A/N: Hi, I'm Becca L., one half of the duo that runs this account. This is my first Glee fanfiction (eep.) There will be triggers (ie; cutting, abuse), so proceed with caution or stop and go back if you feel uncomfortable.

Oh, the story might be a wee bit hard to understand, so at the end I've attached a mini summary in case you didn't understand what was going on.

The story is set pre-everything. This is the dark!au version of how the warblers were brought together and formed.

I don't own anything except my OCs.

Enjoy.

Nick Duval stared blankly at his reflection in the mirror. He guessed he liked the uniform. The blazer was quite fitting, the tie was spunky and well tied by him, and it was spotless, after being carefully taken care of by his mother. Most importantly, the sleeves of the blazer were long. Just long enough.

He took one last final look at his now nearly emty room, ran his fingers through his neatly styled hair, and quietly carried his luggage out of the room. His mother was standing at the foot of the stairs and saw him immediately, motioning with a trembling finger for him to keep quiet. He frowned, then realized what was going on. His jaw set, he walked quietly down the stairs, carefully carrying his luggage and barely made it down the stairs without making a sound, before he heard a chirpy voice from the kitchen.

"Where are you going Nicky?" the bright eyed little girl of seven asked, running over to him and hugging his legs. He leaned down and twirled her pigtails.

"We've talked about this, Dana, I'm going to school," he said, still trying to keep his voice down, eyes darting to the study room door.

"Does that mean you will be home for dinner? Could you play tea party with me? Please?"

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm going to stay there for a while. I promise I'll be home on weekends. And then we'll play tea party okay?"

He gave her a quick hug despite her silent protest and carried his luggage towards the door where his mother was already waiting for him. She was to drive him to Dalton Academy, some posh private school she had suggested for him to go to after all his... complications. He had barely made it a foot out the door when he heard a voice behind him. The voice coming from the person who hated him the most.

"Bye bye faggy pants. That's right, run off to your little gay school and go lead some bullshit life full of rainbows and butterflies," Mr Duval slurred, bottle in hand, as he stood leaning against the doorway of the study. Nick winced, choosing to ignore him. This nightmare was going to end soon.

"Go get another queer to kiss and love yeah? Love, haha," Mr Duval continued, laughing to himself as he shot glares at his son, who stood rooted to the spot, but made no retort what so ever. Somehow his son's indifference made him even angrier. "Know what, don't even think about coming home. Don't sprinkle your magic fairy dust all over my house. We don't want it," he said with a sneer, making his way clumsily back to the study again.

Nick felt those familiar tears again, welling in his throat. He swallowed the lump in his throat, straightened his blazer let out a sigh, and dragged his feet to the family car, eyes downcast., getting into the passenger seat. As the car drove out of the driveway, he looked back at the house quickly, the one with nightmares, screaming and forgotten tears, and turned his head back to stare into his lap.

"Yeah, I love you too, Dad."

Connor Walken was a household name. Or at least, the last name Walken was. His parents were famous movie stars, and he was the product of what the paparazzi liked to call an "A-list couple". So he was the golden boy of the golden couple, and he sure inherited his looks from them as well, his blond hair sandy and dreamy, his eyes the lightest blue, and full of spark. He was literally the guy that all the girls wanted, and he was glad to share some of him with them.

Stepping into the compound after being a whole hour late, and surveying the surroundings, he lifted his sunglasses and played with it, clipping them onto his pants pocket. He quirked an eyebrow at the fellow students at Dalton Academy. They all looked plain, normal, uninteresting and too nerdy. Not his type. But whatever, he thought as he rubbed his bandaged fist absentmindedly, he just needed to stay here for a term to please his parents and then he could go.

Not like they cared too much for his grades though. Or anything else for that matter. To Connor, the only good use his parents were for was to pay the hefty credit card bill that came every end of the month. They sure didn't care too much when he started using his fake IDs (21? He looked barely 21. It was a surprise how anyone actually believed he was that old.) to get into the exclusive Hollywood clubs. They didn't seem to mind it too much when he would come home drunk many nights, throwing fits and knocking down vases and glasses. Then when stress from the paparazzi constantly surrounding his house, schoolwork and his frustrating dating life began to take a toll on him, something in him broke. It wasn't his fault, he was just so freaking angryall the freaking time. At least then his parents noticed. The last straw came when he had hit his neighbour the week before and knocked him completely unconscious. Connor couldn't remember what triggered the fight in the first place, but he remembered feeling avenged. Sure, later a little bit of guilt crept in, but his control over his own fist was starting to scare the people around him. And they decided to send him here, because "Walken goes to private school!" sounded a lot better than "Walken goes to rehab!"

Once he had taken his sunglasses off his face, the other boys started noticing him and realizing who he was. He merely smirked and soaked it all in. He didn't give a damn whether they were criticizing him or gushing about his parents, he liked attention. And being a pair of celebrities' son gave him all the attention he wanted. Just not the attention he really needed.

He wandered to his room, wheeling his luggage bag to his assigned dorm room. "Here's hoping the roommate's not a jerk," he said, chuckling to himself. One diva was enough for the school, and that one diva was himself.

Thomas Fields looked up as he heard a noise coming from the door. He put down the letter he was just reading and stared at the door, silently wishing the person had made a mistake and arrived at the wrong door. He had specifically requested for a single room, yet apparently it had gotten denied, because there on the bed next to his, was a letter in a plain envelope, with the name Connorwritten on it in golden, cursive handwriting, just like his own, except that his had his own name on it.

The door clicked open and his cornflower blue eyes met the light blue ones of this new stranger. He titled his head to the side, curious, as he took in the appearance of the boy standing at the door, who was doing the same thing to him as well. He watched the other boy quirk an eyebrow and settle his gaze over at the other bed.

"C-Connor, I presume?" he asked, trying to start some conversation and break the uneasy silence. If he were to stay with this boy for the whole school year, the least they could do was be on speaking terms right?

The other boy nodded immediately, remaining an air of cool and extended his hand out to the shorter boy, as a rare sign of respect. "The one and only Connor Walken, and you are?" he asked, winking quickly at the now startled Thomas.

Thomas bit his lip and his eyes landed on Connor's outstretched hand. Slowly, he also reached out his hand and barely grabbed Connor's hand, shaking it quickly before jerking his hand back. His roommate was now staring at him at the most curious way. He shrugged it off, not wanting to scare his new roommate with his eccentricity. He didn't need to know that much about him yet. "I'm Thomas. Thomas Fields."

"So I get to call you Tommy?" the blond asked, with a small smile on his face, as he began to open the envelope and read the letter inside.

"No. Just Thomas." the brunette replied, almost too quickly. He bit his lip again, hoping he wasn't coming off as rude.

"Well, I'd love to stay here and chat all day," Connor said in a half serious tone, "but I've got to attend some strange meeting. Screw this, I really wanted to finish unpacking. Just my freaking luck to have to go when I was feeling particularly productive."

Connor started to get up, but was interrupted by Thomas. "Wait, I got the invitation to the meeting too. Why don't we, uh, walk together?" he asked, fiddling with a button on his blazer nervously.

Connor merely nodded in response, not bothering to bring his own blazer with him as they exited the room and headed to the choir room in the west wing. Thomas almost wanted to stop Connor and remind him, but Connor had already walked too far ahead. Shrugging, he followed closely behind Connor, keeping in step. Whatever this meeting was, he hoped it would be quick. He had forgotten to unpack his Harry Potter collection.

"... you do realize bringing all of them together on the first day, especially with characters like Walken and Tellings, could cause a lot of discomfort to them?" Wesley Hughes' best friend, David Sullivan, whispered hurriedly, shooting looks to the 7 confused-looking freshmen seated on the leather couches of the choir room.

"It's precisely why I called for the first meeting to be today actually. They'll thank me, I mean us, when they realize how useful it is to automatically have so many friends on the first day of school," Wes replied as he smiled at the tall, lanky blond guy who had just entered the room, motioning for him to take a seat and make himself more comfortable. Yeah, this was a good idea. He didn't really see how badly this could turn out. Surely these freshmen would have first-day-anxieties? Anyway, him, David and Thad were all a year older then him, and would therefore automatically command their respect right? Speaking of Thad...

"Where is our quiet brunette friend? Thad did receive the memo right?"

"I think the bajillion emails you sent us were enough of a reminder. Knowing Thad, he's probably dusting his collection of snow globes or something. I'll just go text him," David replied, opening up a blank text message screen and typing quickly with his fingers.

Wes nodded and grinned in agreement. He pulled on the sleeves of his blazer, staring at his hands as though he just remembered something. Today is bringing back too many memories he thought, shaking his head, composing himself as he turned to face the freshmen, who were all awkwardly just sitting next to each other. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a very flustered Thad Eaving who burst open the wooden doors of the choir room. He muttered something that sounded like a lot of "sorry"s and took his seat at the table on the rightmost side of the long table at the side, clearly left for the three sophomores to sit at. David chuckled and took the leftmost seat, turning towards Wes, waiting for instruction. Wes made a mental head count of the people in the room. They were still short of 2 freshmen-

And right at that moment as Wes turned towards the door questioningly, the two said freshmen strode into the choir room, pushing open the merely held ajar doors of the choir room. Wes nodded at them, gesturing for them to take a seat. He recognized one of them, Connor Walken. He was already a much discussed name amongst the other sophomores. The other boy, whom Wes did not recognize at all, seemed to have been running to catch up with Walken... Wes smirked. This group's dynamic could be very interesting.

"Right, seeing as everyone is here, I'll begin. Welcome to the choir hall. We'll be meeting here quite frequently over the next few months, maybe more, so familiarize yourself with how to get here," he said, seating in the middle seat, folding his fingers on top of the table.

"I should probably explain why we are gathered here today," he continued, surveying the reactions from the freshmen in the room while he pulled up his sleeve to reveal the skin underneath.

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone in the room, and two freshmen in particular turned extremely pale, turning their heads away from Wes.

Wes nodded, pulling on a brave face as he continued, "I used to cut myself. I was so pressurized by what my parents demanded from me, and the kind of life they were dictating for me, that I turned to the one thing I could actually control: the blood running through my veins."

He took a deep breath. It had been over two years, since he had turned to the razor lace for some sort of release. The scars still stayed, the scars that would forever remain as a reminder of what he had done.

"That was why my parents decided to send me to Dalton. The academics here are stimulating and challenging, but there's a really supportive environment here, and I would be able to be monitored by the boarding school staff," he said, scanning the room, not looking at anyone in particular.

"And that's what everyone in this room has in common. We need support. We were all sent here to escape from people that abused us, or to get help," he said, now looking at Connor pointedly. "Basically the three of us, Thad, David, and I, Wes, set up this group to help all of you. We're not saying you all have problems, but we're just here trying to help and fix you."

There was some murmuring as the freshmen looked at each other in confusion. So what, this was like a counseling group?

"I call bull. I don't need your help or anything," a good looking brunette freshman in the room piped up, standing up and making his way towards the door. He was stopped by David, who dragged him back to his seat.

"I must ask you to address yourself, freshman," Thad said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Sebastian Tellings. And get your freaking hands off me!" he yelled, shaking free from David. "Whatever you got on me, it's hereditary okay? I don't want it either!" he growled, seating back on the couch with a huff.

Wes held his hand up, interrupting whatever Thad was going to retort back at Sebastian. "And your performance just now is exactly why we need to keep your condition under control, Tellings. Does anyone have any other things to say?"

"I'm with that dude on this, I don't need some rubbish therapy. I'm completely okay!" Connor said, standing up as well.

Wes turned towards Connor and gave him a look as well. "Judging by that little tabloid piece that the gossip mag did on you, I would say otherwise. Now sit down. And next time, Walken, remember to bring your blazer along with you. You are violating the uniform code of Dalton," he said calmly, raising an eyebrow at Connor's loose tie over his white collared shirt.

David spoke up from beside Wes. "Look guys, we have got your files, and all of you need help, whether it's from us or from each other. And we are willing to help. You don't have to admit what problem you have or had, but that's the first step to recovery. To kick things off, would anyone like to say anything about why they were sent to this no-bullying policy school?"

Blaine Anderson looked at his fellow freshmen, watching them avoid each others gaze. He tried giving reassuring smiles to them but everytime he caught someone's eye, they would look away and pretend nothing ever happened. He listened intently when the council members began to speak, noticing how the freshman on his right, whom he would get to know later as Sebastian, was fidgeting, playing with his fingers. He frowned at the brunette's nervous antics, wanting to maybe calm him down or comfort him in some way. Blaine was always like this, playing the big brother role amongst all his friends. He had gotten the instinct to protect and care for others from his own experience. For years, he had been worried about how his parents would take it if he were to come out to them. His younger sister, Trisha, was accepting of his sexuality, and would help him hide from the parents and cover for him everytime he snuck out to visit his boyfriend.

Then one day he decided he was tired of sneaking around and telling lies, and though a very awkward and intense dinner, he slowly came out to his parents. He remembered the expression on his mother's face- one of shock then turning into worry as she noticed how her husband's face was starting to redden, his fist clenched tighter over his fork. There had been a lot of screaming that night, even involving the strong-willed Trisha, who refused to take their father's side. Blaine then had to go through the worst summer of his life, avoiding his father even when they were living in the same house, and flinching everytime his father came near. Some punches were harder to avoid, but he took them, he took them all. The bruises and cuts never required him going to the hospital, so he could never find help. He relied a lot on himself those few months. But he made it through, and now he was enrolled into the school he had eyed ever since he had heard of its existence. Dalton Academy... Full boarding... No bullying policy. It was the perfect school for him. No more would he have to face his father on an everyday basis.

5 minutes passed without anyone answering David's question. Blaine notice how the lean blond sitting opposite him was staring most particularly at the carpet under the coffee table that separated the couches. Blaine bit his lip. He knew how these things would work- someone needed to speak up or else no one would, because everyone didn't want to be the first to admit that they had a problem or was escaping from a problem.

Blaine cleared his throat loudly, startling the freshmen around him (the late coming brunette nearly fell off his chair in shock), and stood up slowly. He fixated his gaze on the kindly looking sophomore (his name was David?) and gave him a smile that barely reached the corners of his eyes.

"I'm Blaine Anderson. I come from pretty nearby. Anyway, I thought I would kick things off yeah? I came to Dalton because my father was abusing me pretty badly. I'm g-g-gay, you see," he said, brushing his fingers over his well gelled hair. "And er, being a rather conservative man, he uh, didn't take it too well when I told him. David was right. I do need support. I wasn't entirely expecting this, but I uh, think its a pretty good initiative." He gave the three sophomores another small smile. "And I'm willing to help any of you if you need it, I mean, my case might be trivial to some of yours, and I honestly like helping people in general." He shrugged, turning to face the freshmen around him now. He took a deep breath, and after receiving a nod from Wes, he sat down, staring at his hands, clasped neatly in his lap.

He was surprised to receive a pat on the back from the boy on his left, who had startling dark eye circles and eye bags. Blaine nodded at this boy, and gave him a smile as well.

He looked up, and noticed how many of the rest were giving him sympathetic looks and smiles, even though some seemed like they refused to even believe they were sitting in this very room. He turned his head to the side to face the three sophomores again as the leader, Wes, began to speak again.

"Thank you Blaine, for stepping up and being so supportive of this gathering," the Asian said, smiling genuinely at Blaine. Whatever nervousness Blaine had felt as he was contemplating whether or not to stand up had completely vanished by then. In fact, he felt... free. He had barely known these other boys for two hours, yet he felt like he could really trust them. Because he knew that either they went through the same circumstances, or they had other problems too. Everyone in the room was a disaster, just like him. They all needed each others help to fully "recover", just like him. A small smile etched across his face as he thought about this. He looked around the room, hoping for someone else to speak up as well. They all seemed to be more willing to speak up after he had set up the first example, but they were rudely interrupted by a bell.

"And that's the dinner bell, boys. Which marks the end of our first meeting. We'll meet here again at the same time same day next week. I hope no one is late, and that we all come in proper decorum," Wes said, looking pointedly at Connor. He waved his hands and dismissed them.

"Dude you need to chill, they're just freshmen," Blaine overheard David tell Wes as he walked behind them, following them to the dining hall. Wes simply gave David a look and made no other response. David chuckled and put his arm over Wes' shoulders. "I think you're just grumpy because you're hungry. Come on let's catch up with Thad. He's so far ahead already, geez!" David said, half-dragging Wes ahead.

Blaine smiled at their antics, walking awkwardly alone. He blended into the crowd of students heading towards the dining hall, humming a Katy Perry song to himself under his breath.

Jeff was one of the last few to leave the room. He had been awfully distracted by a painting that hung at one end of the room. After taking a close look at the painting, he turned to head out the door stopped in his tracks when realised he wasn't the last person in the room. There was a pale looking brunette, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his eyes staring at nothing, the blank space in front of him.

Jeff frowned, looking around to see if anyone else was there. None, they were the only two left in the choir room. Jeff took a cautious step towards the brunette, but got no reaction from him. It was as if the brunette was completely in his own world and didn't even realize that there was someone else in the room with him. Jeff hardly felt hungry nowadays, but this boy should, unless he was the same as him... Jeff approached the boy, seating himself quietly next to the brunette. He patted his shoulder once.

The brunette jumped in surprise, staring with wide chocolate eyes at the blond. Jeff grinned. "Hey... Aren't you going to go for dinner?" he asked frowning, his hand still resting on the other boy's shoulder.

The brunette didn't respond, but instead continued to give him a wide eyed deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. Jeff couldn't help but grin at the boy, but also couldn't help but notice how pale and sickly looking he was and how his hands seemed to be shaking. "I noticed that you seemed quite out of it during the whole um, meeting," Jeff confessed. Jeff had been sitting opposite this brunette and caught the other boy flinching and turning ghastly pale right after Wes revealed his scars on his arms.

"You don't have to tell me why..." Jeff continued. Well, not yet at least."But I think you should go get dinner?" he suggested, trying to get an answer out of him.

The brunette shook his head. "Sorry, the meeting just brought back, um, bad memories. I uh, used to, do what W-Wes did," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing as he made that confession. He looked up at Jeff with panic-filled eyes. "So sorry for unloading all of that on you. You just seem... trusty, even though I dont even know your name!" the brunette said, chuckling nervously, looking back down at his hands.

Jeff grinned, nodding. "It's okay, didn't you hear what Wes said? We all have problems. And I'm quite honored you find me trustworthy, even though we just met. And I bet you feel better telling me all that didn't you? Your hands have stopped shaking," he replied bluntly.

"I'm Jeff, by the way," he added, stretching out his hand.

"Nick," the brunette replied, giving Jeff a firm handshake.

"Righto, Nick, let me escort you to the dining hall?" Jeff asked, grinning.

Nick ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "I'm not that hungry. No appetite," he said, a small frown on his face.

"Oh?" Jeff replied, tilting his head to the side. "Well today is your lucky day, for I am not hungry either," he said, shrugging. He suddenly had a brilliant idea and turned to Nick excitedly. "Would you like to join me for a game of Guitar Hero? Please please please?" he asked, eyes sparkling. He was pretty sure that they were going against te school rules by skipping dinner, but Jeff never liked rules, or dinner.

Jeff took Nick's grin as an agreement and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room. "To my room! You might need to help me set it up first though, but Nick, I think we're going to be great friends."

A/N: Okay, so if nobody caught what was going on, basically this is before the formation of the Dalton Academy Warblers. All of the freshmen and sophomores mentioned have problems such as anger management, cutting, depression, abuse trauma etc. These were the reasons why they were brought into Dalton in the first place. Wes, David and Thad brought them all together to act as their mentors and help these freshmen get through their year. And yes, Thad, David and Wes all have "problems" too. Wes' one is cutting due to stress and David and Thad's will be revealed later. I think hints have been dropped on what could possibly be Jeff, Connor, Sebastian and Thomas' "problems", so I'll leave you guys to speculate, and I'll reveal them in due time.

Future chapters will consist of the group going on bonding sessions or hanging out together. There might be some fights, disagreements, comfort, and maybe… a little kissing? :D All in due time.

Of course, if you think that this material is too heavy for , I'd be okay with taking this fic down, so leave a pm or review.

R & R!

-Becca L.