Puck didn't protest when Sam asked to be let off at the high school. He didn't even wait for Sam to reach the entrance before peeling out. Sam watched him leave and then checked the lot for Kurt's Range Rover. He spotted it over off to the side, next to the teachers' stalls. He felt some tension leave his shoulders. He was probably just overreacting, he told himself.

The halls were quiet. Most of the students had gone home. He passed an occasion classroom with the lights still on, but even most of the teachers had abandoned the building for the night. His shoes squeaked against the linoleum as he took the last right before the choir room.

The choir room, like so many other classrooms, was dark. He tried the doors, but they were locked. Feeling silly, he spared a glance through the windows just to double-check that the room was empty. Nothing.

Maybe he had just missed them. He called Kurt's cell. No answer. He tried Finn's. It went to voicemail, but he could hear a sharp trill coming from down the hallway. "Finn?" he called.

He called Finn's cell again, trying to get a fix on where the sound was coming from. He took a left, wandering deeper into the darkened school hallways. "Finn?" He called the cell again and followed the ringing several more yards until he reached a janitor's closet. "Finn?"

No answer. He tried the doorknob and was knocked off of his feet by a falling body. His vision exploded when he hit the floor, his arm screaming in protest. He tried to shift the weight off of him, but the body wouldn't move. He moaned in trapped panic, his mind flashing back to zombie movies and murder mysteries and dead bodies falling and blood covering the floor. Oh god, Finn was dead and his dead weight was going to suffocate Sam. "Help!" came out as a whisper, but the sound of his own voice had a galvanizing effect. The next came out as a full-bodied scream. "Help!" And then he couldn't stop.

"Sam?"

"Help me. Please help me," he called back.

"Sam?" The voice echoed back from the direction Sam had originally taken. He craned his neck trying to see who was answering. The voice was still too far away, but he could tell when the man saw them because the footsteps picked up speed.

"Oh my…Sam?" A body slid into them. "Finn?"

"Mr. Schue? I can't move him. Please, let me up. Please."

Schue's hand found Sam's and squeezed. "Just relax. I need to check Finn before I move him."

"Why? Finn's dead. Please, just let me up."

"What?" Mr. Schue dug two fingers into Finn's neck, feeling for a pulse. "Oh, thank you, Cheesus." His hand gripped Sam's. "He's alive, Sam. It's okay." Schue laughed. "He's okay."

"Could you move him? Please. I can't breathe." Sam started to shove at Finn again, no longer able to fight back his rising claustrophobia.

"It's okay. It'll be okay." Sam didn't really care. He just wished Schue would hurry up. Finally, the weight above him shifted. Sam could breathe again. Sam scuttled back away from Finn and Schue until he hit the far wall. He could feel the air whistling in and out, but he didn't care. He could breathe again. Sam let his head fall back, trying to get even more air into his lungs.

"Finn. Finn, can you hear me? Sam, what happened?"

Sam didn't answer right away. He was still savoring the sweet taste of air.

"Sam?"

"He," Sam blinked in an attempt to focus. "He fell on me. I couldn't move him."

"I got that, Sam. Why did he fall on you?"

"I opened the door and he fell out."

"How's your arm?"

Sam looked down at his arm in confusion. He realized it should hurt, but too much was going on to pay it any attention. "Fine."

He watched as Schue shook Finn again. "I can't get him to wake up. I'm calling 911." Schue patted down his jeans looking for something. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"Yeah," Sam dug into his own pocket for it and handed it over. "I was trying to check on Kurt when I found Finn." Damnit, he banged his head back against the wall. The explosion of stars in his field of vision was a gentle reminder that his poor skull had been knocked around enough recently, thank you. He waited for it to pass before trying to stand.

"Just sit down, Sam. I want the paramedics to look you over too."

"Mr. Schue, I've got to find Kurt." He explained about the bizarre message and Puck's sister. "If Finn's here, Kurt's all alone."

Schue glanced around in obvious frustration at the situation. "Hand me Finn's phone."

Sam reached into the closet and tossed the phone to Schue. He also noticed a familiar blue bottle nearby. "This would knock me out like a light," he held up the bottle. "You think they dosed him?"

"Let's hope that's all it is." Schue caught the bottle as well. "Keep your phone on you and call when you find him. If I don't hear from either of you before the EMTs get here, I'm calling the cops."

"That might be a good idea anyway."

Schue smiled tightly and held up Finn's phone. "Keep it on."

Sam nodded, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

Once out of earshot of Schue, Sam's nerves returned. He could also feel the deep, penetrating ache in his shoulder that meant he was due for another pain pill. He shrugged it off. The body was temporary, he reminded himself, and stumbled into a jog. The end of the hallway split, with the left leading towards more classrooms, the right leading towards the gym and locker rooms. He hated to guess why, but his gut was telling him to turn right first. "Kurt?"

He wasn't surprised at the lack of answer. He tried the girls' room first, but it was empty. So was the gym. He found Kurt's cell phone in pieces outside of the boys' locker room. He ignored them and the brown leather satchel nearby. "Kurt?" He picked up speed as he hit the door to the locker room. "Kurt?"

"Sam?"

"Kurt?"

"Over here." The voice had come from the small mesh enclosure that Coach used to lock up the equipment. Sam broke into a run that made his head swim. He ignored it.

"Kurt," Sam's lungs finally relaxed at the sight of the other boy. Kurt stood to meet him, tangling fingers together through the wire mesh.

"Sam, oh thank Gaga. I've had to pee for the last half hour." Sam laughed weakly, more out of relief than anything. "Is Finn okay?"

Sam nodded, but concentrated on their interlocked hands for a moment. "What happened to you guys?"

"I don't know," Kurt told him. "Finn's had that head cold, you know, so I gave him some of my emergency Nyquil. He started bobbing and weaving after that." Kurt swallowed and looked down at his feet. Sam followed his gaze, noticing for the first time that Kurt didn't have shoes on. "Too loud," Kurt answered. "I heard noises, and people shouting my name. Making threats. I didn't want Finn to get caught up in my mess, so I stuffed him in the closet and told him to stay quiet, then I ran to lead them away. I guess it worked?"

Sam nodded. "Finn's fine," he reminded the other boy.

"They chased me down here. I guess I wasn't thinking very well because I ended up in here. I thought the cage would be perfect. They just laughed and broke a pen off in the lock."

"Who?

"They were wearing masks. I don't know."

Sam pressed a kiss to Kurt's forehead through the bars. "You're okay?"

"Yes. You?"

"Finn fell on me," Sam admitted. Kurt, being the kind and loving boyfriend that he was, tried to hold back his laughter at that image, but it didn't last long.

"Don't worry. He'll still respect you in the morning," Kurt kissed his hand in apology for the laughter.

Sam pulled away after a moment. "I should call Schuester. Let him know where we are." Thankfully, the conversation that followed was brief. He related the bare bones of Kurt's story, before ending with, "We'll be waiting for you."

"I'm ready for another nap," Sam told Kurt. Kurt sighed, tugging his hand free first. "Soon," he promised. Sam smiled back at the other man, already updating the countdown until Spring Break. "Soon."

Finn, it turned out, was lucky to still be breathing. The deadly combination of codeine and Nyquil and tranquilizers had only been partly negated by Finn's enormous stature. The rest had been negated by a weak-willed poisoner, uncertain of the dosages. He or she had only put in one of each pill. As a result, Finn never developed the respiratory complications that came from OD-ing on sedatives. He did, however, sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

Sam and Kurt spent the hours telling and retelling the story of how Sam ended up on the floor, positive that his boyfriend's brother was dead. First, they had to tell the nurse with the ponytail that was falling down. Then there was the police officer that tried to make them wait for their parents to get there. Then they had to play it all back for Kurt's dad, Sam's mom, and Finn's mom. When the rest of the glee club got there, they would have to tell it yet one more time. Kurt, tired and leaning on Sam's shoulder, suggested they type up a press release.

"It would save us time," he giggled.

"I was just going to suggest not calling them," Sam laughed back.

"Schue has probably already alerted them."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. He shifted his sling out of its groove in his shoulder, trying to find a less bruised position. The doctor had recast it after they discovered the crack in the original. She had also given him a prescription for pain medication, the bottle was currently digging into his thigh, but he was trying to wait to take one. He didn't want to leave Kurt alone to face the incoming horde. He pressed a little closer to Kurt, trying to find a curve that let him touch his boyfriend and eased the ache of too many new bruises.

Kurt shifted away. "Come on." He stood up and then dragged Sam to his feet as well. With an arm wrapped around his waist, Kurt guided them over to a low couch on the far wall. Together they managed to arrange themselves so that Kurt could sit at one end and Sam could lie down on his back, his head in Kurt's lap and his knees hooked over the far armrest. "Better?"

"Much."

They fell asleep in that position, "For, like, hours," Artie assured them. "Snoozeville City," Mike agreed. The club even had evidence of it, because "you two are just too freakin' adorable all drugged up and passed out." She took great delight in passing the picture around to anyone who would look at her phone. At the time, Sam was simply glad to be safe and warm and to feel Kurt carding his fingers through his hair.