Hey guys, Chapter Three! Before you read this, read the updated version of Chapter Two, because it's now double the length and double in quality, and the events change completely. Plus, there's some Klaine and I quite like it.

Also, with this chapter I made the canon events kinda skip, because I really don't want to write what we all already know. Yay for dedication! Anyway, I'll try and make it obvious were the canon goes, but soon I'll drift from it and it'll all be AU! Wonderful! And I may not update for a while after this, mainly because I want to try and churn a chapter of And Then There Were Fewer out. Plus the mounds of holiday homework I have and the fact I'm leaving for a few days. Oh, and I have also realized that I made Klaine a couple before their canon, but let's leave it that way. If you still wanna read some Spuck while I'm gone, I suggest In My Head by Wesz, it's a great read and probably one of the only other Spuck stories I've seen in a while.

I also should clarify that Rachel had a party for winning Sectionals, and alcohol was supplied. I kinda made that up on the spot, as it's the only way for Puck to know Blaine in the second chapter, but from here on the canon is coherent with Comeback, S2E13. Whoopsie, I made a booboo.

I don't own Glee. I don't even own the computer I'm using to write this.

Also, please, please review and comment and critique and show some sign that someone is reading this my email is getting lonely and I'm beginning to develop an unhealthy addiction to ice cream.

Monkeysonfire

Why thank you, that is quite a compliment, I'm honoured!

Puck walked up to Sam, who was busily searching through his locker. With a confident stride, Puck playfully prodded his shoulder before leaning against the wall.

"Hey," he said as Sam looked up. Sam glanced at Puck's lazy stance and immediately returned his attention to organizing his Spanish books. He tries not to look at how Puck's black button up shirt makes him look ripped, and how it rides up his abs when he tilts like that, but you only live once.

Easy, Sam, he thinks coaxingly. He only wants you for sex. Don't let him use you like that. Just play it cold, just like we planned.

"Hi."

"So, ummm... about Saturday-"

"What about Saturday? Nothing about Saturday." Sam interrupted, slamming his locker shut. His distant act was working perfectly, considering the look on Puck's face. Turning around to walk away, Sam took a step before he felt his collar being tugged.

"Nothing about Saturday? Nothing my ass." Puck growled, pulling Sam back so they were face to face.

"I-If this is about what I said, then I'm sorry," Sam wished he wasn't so easily intimidated, but he could already feel his legs cowering slightly. "Caught in the moment."

"This isn't about your words," Puck said with a rasping quality hitched on his voice. "This is about me and you and-" He looked around for any possible eavesdropping "-being together."

"Being together? We aren't together." Sam was blunt in his statement, a quirky eyebrow raised. Puck gulped. Shit, that wasn't what he meant to say.

"I meant sex," he said all too quickly. Sam hushed him with his hands, glancing at their surroundings.

"Not so loud!" He whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, who cares. We had sex. With feelings." Fuck, he did it again.

"I don't remember any feelings," Sam stated coldly.

Puck looked at him in awe. "The fuck? Dude-"

"Listen, Puck. What we did was a one night stand. You probably say all that to everyone you sleep with... Just move on." Perfect.

"Huh...?" Puck watched in dismay as Sam turned around slowly and walked away. He'd like to think he heard Sam wistfully sigh as he did so, but Puck wasn't sure if he was imagining things. ...Did he just get... turned down? That wasn't what he was expecting. Sure, he didn't think this would be easy, but still...

Raising an incisive eyebrow at Sam's fading figure, Puck couldn't shake the feeling there was something more behind this hurried dismissal.

"When I first met you I knew, you were the one," he sang softly, rising from his position against the lockers and following Sam's trail. It was true. From the second he laid eyes on Sam, there was something. Not that it was love. It could have been love, but it's hard to distinguish love and lust on first impressions. Rounding a corner Puck was met with a sea of students, scrambling to how they saw fit. In the middle of his vision was Sam. Kurt was walking away from him calculatingly, and as Sam faced away he was met with the sweet embrace of Quinn.

"'Till you took me home and I met her..."

Quinn. Puck felt slightly guilty with how he now thought that name. It had a growl to it, a stinging resentment, but not without reason. After all, she had woven what would be his boyfriend into a web of deceit and bi-curiosity, and Sam was so lacking in self-esteem he was willing to be used. It made him sick.

"She had your boxers on, and she was listening to, your song, and I thought right then you had everything."

Something wasn't right. Puck could sense it. Or see it, really. It wasn't that Quinn was wearing Sam's letterman jacket, it was Sam. Releasing Quinn from his embrace, Puck saw the blank look in Sam's eye. His face was smiling, and his plump lips were stretched from ear to ear, but his eyes were blank and emotionless. There was no sparkle of happiness, no twinkle of content. It was just plain wrong.

"But I knew, she was jealous from the start. Yeah I knew, she was jealous from the start..."

Quinn was jealous, and Puck knew it. Even though Sam was trying to hide his despondent feelings, Quinn could still feel them radiating from him. She held both of his shoulders, forcing him to look at her smile, as if trying to get him to perk up in return. Sam pushed his smile wider, but it just made his eyes look more miserable by comparison. The hopelessness in Quinn's eyes made it apparent the facade was not fooling her. She laced her fingers through his, and they began to walk off together down the corridor. Quinn's fingers were folded tightly against Sam's knuckles, but his digits were limp and loose, only wanting to create the illusion of affection. And yet, Quinn still held on, as tight as ever, even though her level of enthusiasm was not being requited. Why?

"'Cause I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends, I know better than that, I know better...You play the victim and I'll be the bad guy, I know better than that, I know better..."

Sam and Quinn's profiles began to fade into the crowd as they walked down the hallway. Quinn was leaning into Sam, resting her head on his shoulder. This wasn't fair. Puck should know better, but in retrospect Quinn should have a clue or two as well. And Sam should definitely take stand. Quinn really has got him by the balls. But Puck was too persistent to give up, any premonition to be was drained by the look on Sam's face. It just didn't make sense: Sam wasn't happy, but he was still denying the one who would make him happy. And if Puck tried to recruit a new boyfriend, Sam would probably take the road always travelled by and just label Puck as the bad guy. Just like he was with Quinn.

"'Cause I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends, I know better than that, I know better... You play the victim and I'll be the bad guy, I know better than that, I know better..."

Sam painfully walked away from Puck, trying not to look back. It's for the best, he reminded himself, we can't have a repeat of last time. Sam was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't see Kurt slide next to him with a friendly smile.

"... Sam!" Kurt stressed, waving a hand in front of his face in order to establish his presence. "Hey, you look troubled. What's up?"

"Oh, hey Kurt," Sam replied in a monotone. "I'm fine, thanks, you?"

Kurt swiftly walked forward, obstructing Sam's path and making him stop in his tracks. Kurt stared intensely at his eyes, scanning them as Sam looked down and nervously tried to flatten his stomach.

"Liar. You're not okay. Your eyes are a dead giveaway."

"Like how?" Sam snarled defensively. He blinked owlishly at how venomously his words sounded, but Kurt seemed too familiar with self-protective tactics to care.

"Your eyes look sad, Sam." Kurt stated, care woven into his voice. "Your face is smiling but your eyes are crying. And they're dilated."

"So?"

"There's a reason for dilated eyes that doesn't stem from light, Samuel. It's arousal."

"Oh, Kurt, um... look, we're just friends, okay?" Sam stuttered, immediately flushing with embarrassment.

"What? Oh, I know that!" Kurt laughed, "You were aroused before. When you were talking to Puck." Sam's eyes opened owlishly, and he laughed maniacally.

"Me and Puck? That's hilarious!" Sam released another longing sigh, making scratching the nape of his neck in remorse when realized his mistake. "...Shit."

"Look, Sam. I understand how hard it can be sometimes, because I've been through it all-"

"-But there's nothing going on with Puck!" Sam must have subconsciously expressed his dismay at this fact, as Kurt's face softened when he said it.

"Do you really believe that?" Kurt whispered, making sure only Sam could hear.

"Yes!" Sam stated defiantly, "Maybe...?" He reconsidered, shoulders sinking slightly. He stared pointedly at the ground before glancing up and Kurt's sceptical expression. "No," he shyly confessed, toeing the ground with his converse.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, just give me a ring. Anytime, I'll always here for my friends."

"Thanks," Sam replied, exhaling with considerably more ease than before. He felt as a troubling weight had been lifted off his chest, and he was certain a small amount of spark returned to his eye. "But... how did you know?"

"Um, well, I-I...-"

"Hey guys, what's up?"

Kurt was flustered when trying to answer his question, but luckily Quinn appeared, effectively muting their current conversation.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt lied, airily gesturing with his hand, "I'll see you guys later!"

"..What was that about?" Quinn inquired, opening her arms to give her boyfriend a hug.

"It was nothing," Sam explained, the spark in his eye effectively fading again. Quinn clamped Sam's shoulders with her hands, surveying him with interest. The cuffs of his letterman jacket (which Quinn was wearing) felt crusty on his shoulders. He locked eyes with Quinn as she studied his face, trying to look as sincere as possible.

"Okay," she affirmed, placing her hand in his. They began to walk down the corridor, Quinn grasping his hand tightly.

Sam thought it was odd how quickly she accepted his answer. It was bugging him, how his own girlfriend easily passed his distress, whereas a mere friend dug for the truth. Quinn laid her head on his shoulder, making him recoil slightly. How could she see him so depressed, yet still pretend they were the poster couple for "McKinley's most popular"? Sam cared about his social status, but was thisreally worth it?

Leaving her Maths class, Quinn walked bouncily down the hallway. She smiled at the sight of love hearts and pink littering the halls – Valentine was such a romantic occasion. Striding past a door, she entered the Auditorium, running down the steps and up to the stage, where Finn was anxiously waiting for her.

Yep, Valentine was such a romantic occasion for couples. But as her lips forcibly met with her exes, Quinn did not feel an ounce of guilt towards one Sam Evans.

"This morning I woke up and decided to swallow the sun." Sam plastered a goofy grin on his face, trying not to laugh at his credible imitation. At the bemused look he received from Santana, he sunk a little in his chair. "...It's my James Earl Jones expression," he clarified.

"First of all, that is offensive," Santana ranted. She looked close to stapling those guppy lips shut. "He shot Martin Luther King."

"Obe One never told you what happened to your father," he began, lips curling to recreate the sound of Darth Vader.

Massaging her temples, Santana took a fortifying breath. "Okay, you know what? Let's just cut to the chase. Despite the fact your mouth to face ratio is like, way off, you still somehow manage to be cute." Sam moved his lips into an appreciative smile, but that did not hinder any of Santana's words. "Make no mistake," she warned. "Every time you open your mouth to... do an impression, or moisten an enormous stamp for a lazy giant, you take one step closer to everyone seeing that you are actually a dork."

Sam's smile was replaced with an impassive line as he turned his attention down to the desk he was sitting at. He was trying to hide the fact that while the insult hurt, he had for a second suspected Santana to catch him out on his one night stand.

"Which is where I come in. I hereby offer my services as a mistress." Sam had to clench his mouth shut to prevent a laugh from bursting out of his mouth. The slightly seductive voice Santana had used made it all the funnier, but Sam couldn't help but think of his answer if Puck had asked him the same question. "I wants on them Froggy Lips, and I wants on 'em now."

"But I'm dating Quinn," Sam smirked, a hint of taunting in his voice.

"And this just in – she cheated on you."

"No she didn't," he stated defiantly, crossing his head, much to the amusement of Santana.

"Look. I know you're as dumb as a bag of wet hair, but you know in your heart she is lying. That gumball story was insane. You're choosing to believe it so you can still be with her."

Looking victorious, Santana flipped her hand behind her back as Sam stared desolately at the desk. She had got Sam, because everything she said was true, and she knew it. She just didn't discern the reasoning.

Sam also knew Santana was right: he was choosing to believe an obvious lie. All to stay with Quinn. But not for romantic purposes: for identity concealing ones. Quinn was all Sam had to keep him above water surrounding the whole gay conspiracy. Without her, he would sink.

Santana turned sideways, masking herself with her best captivating techniques. "But consider my offer. Not only am I giving you full visitation rights to the set of rambunctious twins that live on my ribcage, you get the chance to show that pastry bag Finn that he can't mess with Sam Evans. And not just because you can unlock your humongous jaw and swallow him whole like a python, but because you have some buzz at this school."

Sam locked eyes with Santana. She had proposed her services at the best time possible. A time where he could simultaneously get over Puck and make him jealous at the same time. Quinn would be jealous too, that could be a plus as well. He gazed shyly into her eyes, uncertain about his motives for creating this new Glee pairing. Santana was most likely expecting some action down the track, and Sam didn't really want to give it. He was surprised she didn't call him out when he cringed at the mention of 'rambunctious twins that live on my ribcage'. Giving him a light hearted shrug, Santana ended the conversation.

"Think about it," She said as she stood up and walked out of the library. Taking a deep breath, Sam was left to dwell on his thoughts and incentive.

The bell sounding the end of the day rang, and Puck instinctively hurried to Sam's locker. Tapping him on the shoulder when he arrived, Puck tried to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"So, you and Santana?" He asked casually, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," Sam swallowed, heaving his bag out of his locker.

"You and Santana?" Puck repeated, dumbfounded.

"Is that a problem? Sam retorted flatly.

"Yes. It is a problem," Puck hissed. "There was something between us. And I'm going to show you."

"Really?" Sam exclaimed hopefully. "Wait." Regaining his composure, Sam began anew. "I have Santana, dude." Lowering his eyebrows to hide his wish for the former statement, Sam turned around and walked away, leaving Puck alone.

...What. The hell. These mixed messages were beginning to get too cryptic for Puck, but his Mohawk senses were telling him that Sam wanted to be shown love. But why? Why couldn't he just accept the fact that Puck, even with an atrocious record, actually likes him? Doesn't he know that behind the badass is an actual human being with (a limited amount of) feelings?

Dialling his phone, Puck sighed. There was only one person who still made him feel like he was maintaining his persona while spilling his guts out.

"Hey, Kurt," Puck answered as he heard him pick up. "You finished school yet? ...Awesome. Meet me at the Lima Bean in two hours... I don't really care what you wear. Just be there."

Seated at a secluded area at the Lima Bean, Puck slurped his Caramel Frappe as he watched a flustered Kurt burst through the glass doors. Signalling to the barista to order his usual ("Thanks, Martha,") he plumped himself on a chair adjacent Puck, regaining his breath.

"Okay," he puffed, checking his pulse, "What's so important?"

"It's Sam," Puck announced dramatically, staring at Kurt vividly. Kurt looked at Puck murderously, his eye twitching slightly.

"You rushed me into staining my Marc Jacobs for gossip?" spluttered Kurt. At the sight of Puck's raised eyebrow, he surrendered his facade. "...Tell me everything."

Amused, Puck began to recall the events of the prior school day. "He wants me. I just know it. It's weird."

"How so?"

"Well, I don't think I've even thought of sex with anyone else since Saturday."

Kurt stared blankly, propping his elbow on the arm rest to support his head. "Oh!" He jumped, blinking owlishly. "That is weird for you."

"Yeah."

"Well, good for you – Thanks Martha-" Kurt took his drink and thanked the barista before allowing her to return to her counter. "-Maybe if you tell Sam this, it might convince him to give you a chance."

"Yeah... Yeah!" Puck explained, gaining enthusiasm. "It all makes sense! I want him and only him, and he won't admit it, but he has the hots for a little Puckerman. This is great!..."

Courtly taking a sip of his Grande Non-fat Mocha, Kurt watched contently as Puck's brain connected the dots. This wasn't a normal Puck, and it was blatantly obvious. The anarchic badass was would never allow his feelings to be so readable - it was almost as if his irises had taken the form of love hearts. Though unusual as it was, Kurt couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was the warm feeling he got when he cupped his Mocha, or maybe it was because he was helping two people find each other.

"This is weird," Sam whispered to Santana. He was trying to suppress the urge to talk during the movie, but he couldn't wrap his head around it. "We're in a movie; shouldn't we be making out or something?" Sam didn't actually want to, which was why he withheld the question for so long. He didn't want – or need – to lock lips with Santana. Even if he could mentally configure her face to look like Puck's, he wouldn't risk the chance of receiving mono.

"Oh, please," Santana said warily, "Don't act like you want to." She didn't even turn her attention to him as she scooped another handful of popcorn. It was weird, where Santana was staring. Namely, her head was looking below the screen. Tracing her gaze, Sam saw Brittany and Artie, faces mashed on one another as though they were glued together.

"You like Artie..." Sam realised, speaking to the floor. "Then why'd you break up me and Quinn?"

"For the love of God, I think your hair dye is killing your brain cells," Santana sighed impatiently. "It's Brittany."

"...That would make more sense." Sam said, nodding in understanding. He would be more shocked about the news, but he had heard some stories about the two.

"I don't even know why she's with Wheels. Stupid paraplegic parking," she mumbled, crossing her arms.

"...Yeah, that sucks," Sam replied empathically. "But if you like her, why are you here with me?"

"Because you have the hots for Puck, so I knew you wouldn't pull any moves."

"Umm... what?" Sam asked, feigning confusion.

"Please, don't play dumb with me, even thought you might not be playing." Santana snapped, flicking her hair. "I've seen you drool over his Mohawk. I swear, he walked into Glee with a Bieber fro and you flooded the whole corridor with your big-mouth brand saliva." Looking at Sam's hurt face made Santana soften her expression, but her arms remained crossed. "We're a beard, that's it. Now shut up and let me snoop."

As Santana returned her attention back to Bartie, Sam sighed and tried to pay attention to the rest of the film.

Closing the door to his room, Sam checked the time on his watch. It was quarter past five. With a groan, Sam wondered why he opted for the early movie session and took out his phone. Scrolling down the contacts, he located the number he needed to call. He pressed his phone to his ear and waited for the dial tone to end.

"Kurt?" he asked the silence. "It's Sam."

"Oh, hi Sam!" There were muffled whispers on Kurt's end, before he began to talk again, "so, what's on your mind?"

"Puck." He said flatly.

"Puck's on your mind?" Kurt repeated, "But I thought you were with Santana?"

"That's a beard, she wants Brittany," Sam explained sulkily. "I just need an opinion."

"Of course, Sam," Kurt soothed, "shoot."

"Is... it weird... for me to like... Puck?" Sam twisted his fingers in his hair, anxiously waiting for Kurts response.

"Of course it isn't weird to like Noa- ow! I mean Puck," Kurt stated, his voice turning begrudgingly after the exclamation of pain. "Judging by your interactions, the sooner you two get together the better. Or else you'll just spontaneously combust with lust and desire."

"...But what if he doesn't like me?" Sam worried, sighing into the phone.

"Trust me. He does." Kurt assured, a small rumble in his voice.

"...Really?" Sam beamed, his eyes twinkling with hope before reverting back to ones of veracity. "...But what if he gets tired of me and just sleeps with some chick?"

Sam heard muffled voices in the background before Kurt actually answered. "I have it on good authority that he wouldn't even think of it," he replied smugly.

"...Kurt," Sam croaked in a scared voice, "...who's in the background?"

"That's just Blaine, why?"

"Oh," Sam exhaled with liberation, "Cool. Anyway, thanks for listening to my dribble."

"Of course Sam, it was my pleasure."

"See you at school."

"Bye."

Hanging up his phone, Kurt turned to face a smirking Puck.

"I knew it," Puck revealed, circling the rim of his empty Frappe cup with his finger. "He wants me."

"There's still work to be done," Kurt reminded, "Sam's self-esteem is incredibly low. I doubt he thinks anyone could ever get past his dorky personality."

"Well, you obviously haven't snuck a peak in the locker room now, have you?"

"And what makes you think I haven't?" Kurt retorted slyly, draining the rest of his drink.

"Get out!" Puck laughed, raising his fist to be bumped by Kurt, not addressing the domineering feeling he received when he imagined someone interested in his soon to be boyfriend. Now all he had to do was make the soon-to-be a now and everything would be where it should be. And Puck knew just how to do it.

Walking hand in hand with Puck, Sam passed the shining banner and entered the carnival. It was his first date with Puck. He silently munched on a toffee apple, thinking about how perfect his hand seemed to fit into Puck's. There was no sweating, and even though they were both relaxing their digits didn't slide or fidget or itch.

Passing the various stalls with great amusement, they walked to a High Striker. The bespectacled vendor snootily handed Puck a mallet.

"Try this one for size, Mr. Muscles," he taunted, rubbing the top of his moustache.

"Bring it," Puck bragged, puffing out his chest. He pointed at Sam, blowing his a kiss. "For you, babe."

Tensing his muscles, Puck brought the mallet down on the lever. The bell suspended at the top of the tower was hit with such force it was knocked to the ground. It omitted a harsh ringing sound, and Puck was handed a large plush monkey.

"Brung," Puck laughed, walking away from the pouting vendor and turning his attention back to Sam. "A prize for my prize." Sam tried not to blush as Puck handed him the toy and pecked him on the cheek, but he failed miserably.

"Now where should we go?" Sam squeaked, still not believing he was on a date with Puck.

"I say... the Hall of Mirrors," Puck simpered, eyes glimmering. With his sentence, a loud bang from a drum was heard, and the sky turned a dark red. Shadows consumed all surroundings, and only the daunting entrance to the Hall of Mirrors was visible.

Bang.

Puck's hazel eyes formed into ones of crimson, irises fading into the venomous colour. His peaceful grip on Sam's hand was now forceful and tense. It was making Sam's hand bruise, and he was whimpering in pain, but Puck remained focused ahead.

Bang.

Sam tried to stop moving forward, to break the hold which Puck held on him, but he couldn't. Despite his mental struggle, Sam's legs kept unconsciously moving forward, as if he had no control over them.

Bang.

"Here we are."

Puck's voice was cold and lacking its usual sultriness.

"Puck..." Sam began, but he paused to stare as Puck's hair began to grow. It enveloped his Mohawk, turning it brown, and it styled itself upwards. His nose and jaw receded backwards, and his muscled stature reduced to a more lanky appearance. Sam gasped in horror as his ex was fleshed out before his eyes. He finally managed to squirm his hand free, only to see it was covered in blood and fingernail markings. "...Sebasti-"

"In. Now." Sebastian commanded, pushing Sam forward. Sam floated into the hall, finding the exit was gone. He was surrounded on all sides by mirrors that seemed to be infinitely high. Sebastian occupied the space of each one, his eyes staring predatorily at Sam.

"Look," he snarled. "Don't you see it?"

"See what?" Sam boomed, trying to stop his legs from shaking.

"Humph," Sebastian made a disparaging grunt. "Take a look for yourself."

The mirrors were replaced with reflections of Sam, all of them growing larger by the second. Sam placed a shaking hand on his cheek, feeling the ample amount of fat and skin beginning to form.

"No..." He gasped brokenly, instantly regretting every Cool Ranch Dorito and hotdog he'd ever eaten. He turned his head, witnessing all of his reflections in unison. His shirt buttons burst from their seams, revealing mounds of flabby skin. His muscles were stretched and replaced with an abundance of flesh. His legs doubled in size, straining the stitching in his jeans. His shoes were painfully tight for feet, and he squished his eyes shut, trying to will away the weight.

He tried everything to try and stem his growth, but nothing worked. He desperately pulled and yanked at the weight, hoping that it would somehow detach itself from his skin, but it only made it grow faster.

"No!" He yelled, choking on wails. He tried to grip his head in his hands, but he realized he didn't have enough strength to lift his arms that high. Sam fell to his knees, cringing at the sound of his spacey flesh hitting the floor. His head fell in defeat and his eyes leaked a stream of tears.

Sebastian walked out of the mirror in front of Sam, looking down in triumph.

"See?" He said with crossed arms. "Not even Puck would want you now."

Sam growled before a screech hitched in his breath. Sebastian laughed maniacally and the surrounding mirrors broke, one by one, until the last one was shattered and all was pitch black.

Waking, Sam took deep, calming breaths. Bolting upright, he was covered in sweat and his dream remained vivid in his mind. His cheeks felt wet: the dream was fake, but his tears were real. Quietly walking to the bathroom, he turned on the light, trying not to wake his family. Taking a second to let his eyes adjust to the rapid change in light, Sam sighed with relief at the sight of his body in its normal state.

Don't celebrate too soon. That dream wasn't fake, it was just imagined, his brain drawled. Dragging an almost lifeless hand across his waist, Sam bit back a sniff.

"Not even Puck would want you now."

The song used is Boys with Girlfriends by Meiko. Finally, something good came out of my job.

I hope you guys can finally see what kind of Sam I'm going for, because frankly I dunno if I'm doing a good job at portraying him. Antagonistic-Subconscious!Sam. That's a new one. I was meant to have another song in here, but I just can't fit them without it seeming forced. Darn. There's also a large hint to Sam's past in there, which will eventually explain his current state. If you get the Season Three character reference, then yay! The dream was the hardest (and most fun) thing to write in this chapter. I bet half of you were thinking I'd lost it, but the dream is meant to be full of symbols and it's a place where Sam's subconscious rules domain. Things may seem weird, but in dreams things always are... that and I did kinda feel as if it was no my best writing. Oh well.

A high striker is one of those generic 'test your strengths' you see on tv whenever someone goes to a carnival. Unfortunately, the little measure that tells you your strength is called a puck, so there were some difficulties there and I just left the word out completely.

Please review, comment, critique, review, and whatever else, I love to hear from people and it's the only motivation I have.