Fic: The Ballad of Sam and Dean (2/3) Glee/SPN crossover
Fandom: Glee/Supernatural (cracky crossover)
Rating: PG-13 for language, occasional non-explicit violence, homoerotic incestuous subtext, suspense, and other assorted fucked up shit.
Spoilers: None. Set before Sectionals and sometime during SPN season 1.
Word Count: This part: 2450. Total so far: about 5000.
Summary: Something is attacking the kids of the McKinley Glee Club, and it's up to the Winchesters to save them.
Previously: Part 1
Later that night, after Glee rehearsal had ended, Mercedes and Kurt exited the Glee room together, arm in arm.
“Hold up, Kurt,” Mercedes said as they reached the end of the hallway. “I’ve got to grab something from my locker.”
“You’re going to make us late for the Annie sing-along,” Kurt said impatiently.
“Hush up. I won’t take long.” With that, Mercedes hurried off down the hall, humming “Proud Mary” under her breath almost unconsciously. Kurt was left waiting for her alone by the Glee room door. He sighed, leaning against the lockers casually while checking his watch every few seconds, waiting for her to come back.
Just then, the overhead lights started to flicker; Kurt looked up, slightly unnerved. “The hell’s wrong with the wiring in this school?” he wondered aloud. If only all the school’s money wasn’t going to the cheerleading squad...
A gust of freezing wind tore through the hallway just then, interrupting Kurt’s thought process as his hands flew to his hair in a panic. He tore open his Louis Vuitton bag, pulling out a compact and a fine-toothed comb, meticulously starting to fix it again.
He stared at his reflection with concentration, paying too much attention to his hair to notice the dark figure lurking nearby at first. But as soon as his last hair was back in place, his eyes drifted to where it hovered over his shoulder, a low growl shuddering through the air, and he whirled around sharply to get a better look.
There was no one there.
Kurt’s pulse was racing, his breathing quick and shallow and shaky. “Mercedes?!” he asked, trying not to sound as terrified as he felt.
He was answered by a terrible, bloodcurdling scream, then dead silence. Kurt’s eyes flew wide.
“Mercedes!!” he yelled, sprinting down the hallway toward the sound of her cries, trying not to notice how quickly she had gone silent.
He found her huddled on the floor next to her open locker, knees curled up to her chest, one hand clamped over her mouth, clearly terrified. “Mercedes,” Kurt said, kneeling next to her. “Mercedes, are you hurt? What happened?”
He took her face in his hands, but quickly recoiled with a yelp once he got a good look at her.
Mercedes’s mouth was gone.
---
“Dude, this latest girl doesn’t fit the profile,” Sam told Dean later that night in their motel room. The 11 o’clock news had just shown a segment on Mercedes’s attack. “There has to be some other connection between the victims, other than the football team.”
“Well, you’re the one running background checks on all of them,” said Dean, voice somewhat muffled as his face was pressed into his pillow. “What do you think?”
“Well... this Mercedes girl’s not involved in a whole lot,” Sam said, snuggling under his blankets. “She’s definitely not on the football team; she’s not connected to the team at all. The only thing she does outside of school is Glee club.” He paused. “Come to think of it, those three football players were in the club too!”
“What the hell is a glee club?” Dean asked, turning his head to look over at his brother.
“It’s like show choir,” Sam said.
Dean looked at him blankly.
“You know, singing and dancing?”
Still, Dean shook his head.
“You know,” Sam said insistently. “When we were going to that high school in Oklahoma, I joined one for like three weeks before Dad dragged me out, saying it was killing my hunting instincts?”
Dean snickered. “Oh right, the start of your queer phase.”
Sam sighed as Dean continued to laugh. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Why would a demon go after a glee club?” Sam asked.
“Got me, Sam,” Dean said, sobering. “Maybe they’ve got enemies, maybe the residents of hell are anti-showtunes. Who the hell knows? All I know is, we’ve got to find that evil son of a bitch and kill it.”
Sam sucked in a breath sharply.
Dean looked down. “Sorry, Sammy.”
“Your feet are freezing,” Sam said irritably, looking down between the bedclothes where Dean’s feet were slung over his calves.
“Well, next time, get us a motel room with two beds,” Dean shot back, kicking Sam’s leg with one of his icy feet.
“Ow! I told you, this is cheaper.”
“Whatever, Sammy.” With that, the two of them began a silent tug-of-war over the covers.
---
The next morning, Sam and Dean went to interrogate the members of the Glee club, to see what else they could find out.
“I just don’t get how something like this is possible,” Will said, hand running through his hair.
Sam shrugged. “In my line of work, I see things like this all the time.”
“But you’re a janitor,” Will said, looking at him in surprise.
Sam hesitated a second before hastily covering with, “Well... yeah. You know. A kid mistakes superglue for toothpaste, and the next thing you know...” Will looked skeptical, so he added, “Plus... um... crystal meth has a lot of weird side effects?” Will seemed to accept this, as he nodded in understanding.
Meanwhile, Dean was trying to interrogate Mercedes.
“Did you see who attacked you?” he asked her.
Mercedes’ skin stretched tight over her lower jaw, so she couldn’t speak; but she hesitated a second, eyes nervously darting around the room, before she nodded.
“Who was it?” Dean started to hand her a pad of paper so she could write down a name, but there was no need. Her eyes widened and she nodded in the general direction of Puck, where he was chatting with Rachel and Brittany.
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he watched the young mohawked man flirt with the two girls, leaning over them with one boot propped up by a plastic chair, grinning in a way that suggested he was luring them into some kind of web. Dean knew that look -- he’d made it enough times himself -- and he knew immediately that the kid was no good.
“So,” Sam concluded to Will, “is there anyone who you think might want to hurt the members of your glee club? Someone with a grudge against you, maybe?”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I think I know someone...”
---
Sue Sylvester was busily writing in her journal when Dean Winchester kicked down her door. The crash barely made her look up from her work. “Um... sorry, ma'am. There you go, man,” Dean said gruffly, standing back to let Will through.
Will’s face was red with anger, his chest heaving. “All right, Sue,” he said without preamble, pointing an accusing finger at her. “What did you do to my kids?”
“Oh, hey buddy,” said Sue, shutting her journal and smirking at him. “You finally give up on that Glee pipe dream of yours? Because that cushy job as my personal masseuse is still wide open for ya.”
“Don’t play games with me,” Will snarled, getting down in her face. “The glee club members are losing their mouths one by one, and the new janitors think you have something to do with it.”
Sue looked through the office window at the Winchesters, silently observing the confrontation from the safety of the hallway. “So now you’re taking the advice of two barely-educated, plaid-wearing miscreants?” Sue snorted. “Let me guess. You’ve got a thing for the tall one, don’t you?”
“I... don’t... But maybe they’re right, Sue!” Will practically screamed, pounding her desk with fury. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but it has to be you. You have always been undermining me, every step of the way. And now you’re taking away my kids’ chance to express themselves!” The vein on his neck was beginning to stick out again.
Sue had no idea what Will was talking about, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him get the better of her in an argument.
“Will, Will, Will,” Sue said with disdain, rising to her full height to face him. “How can you think to blame me for your kids’ considerable physical deformities? Next I suppose you’ll be blaming me for crippling Wheels by shoving him down the stairs, or for dropping that Finn Hudson on his head when he was an infant.”
Will straightened up, nostrils flared. “I know it’s you, Sue. I’ll prove it.”
“That so?” Sue smirked, arms folding across her chest in her usual self-satisfied way. “Even if you had any proof, which you clearly don’t and will never have, it’s my word against yours and the janitors’. And if you think Figgins is going to take the word of a fifteen-foot tall ginormatron, a bow-legged redneck, and a man with sulfuric eggs nested in his hair seriously...” She leaned close to him. “Think again.”
Will backed up, scowling heavily, before turning on his heels and marching out of her office. Sue shook her head and went back to her desk. Flipping a page on her journal, she began to furiously scribble a whole new tirade against Will Schuester and his hair.
Back in the hall, Sam said to Dean, “But I thought you said that kid with the mohawk was our guy?”
“He is,” Dean said, arms folded across his chest.
“Then why...?”
“Thought this’d be fun.” Dean flashed Sam a brilliant grin. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”
---
“Dean, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” Sam muttered to his brother as they lurked around the corner from the school’s slushie maker, watching Puck get out a cup and pour himself one.
“Dude, shut it! This plan is foolproof.” Dean beckoned to Puck. “Pssst!” The young man came over to where the two brothers lurked in the corner, a purple slushie in his hand.
“Hey kid,” Dean muttered, reaching into his pocket, “need a little pick-me-up?” He held up a silver flask. “Nothing like a little vodka to help you get through the school day.” Sam tried to hide his Super-Special Puppy Dog Eyes of Disapproval from his brother’s gaze, knowing they needed to sell this latest ruse of theirs if they were to have any chance of saving the Glee kids.
Puck’s eyes glinted greedily, darting back and forth to watch out for teachers, before he held out his slushie for a dose of the flask’s contents. Dean poured in a generous amount before screwing the lid back on.
“You guys are the coolest janitors ever,” Puck enthused. “Almost makes me feel sorry that I stick my used gum under my desk in English class every day.”
“That was YOU?” Sam began, outraged, before Dean laid a hand on his shoulder. Puck chuckled and turned away, raising the cup to his lips as he walked off down the hall.
“All right, you hell bastard,” Dean breathed, putting his flask of holy water back into his jacket pocket, “let’s see you fry.” This was the first phase of their plan: they needed to get some holy water inside Puck to damage the demon wearing him before they could proceed with the exorcism.
But nothing happened when Puck took a sip of the slushie. He took several long gulps of the drink without any ill effects whatsoever, and Dean groaned in disappointment that their only lead had resulted in a dead end.
Puck did, however, make a face in disgust as soon as he realized that there really wasn’t any alcohol in the beverage. But there was no sense in letting a perfectly good slushie go to waste, so he turned around, looking for his next slushying target. Luckily for him (and unluckily for her), Rachel just so happened to standing at her locker nearby, getting her Spanish books out. Barely looking at her, Puck tossed the slushie right in her face as he walked past her.
But the instant that frozen concoction hit her face, Rachel began to scream in agony, steam rising from her skin in tight spirals. She collapsed to the ground, twitching as the holy water took effect; her fellow students walked past her, completely unaware to the supernatural phenomenon taking place.
Sam and Dean, on the other hand, exchanged a look.
“The demon!” Sam gasped, reaching into his waistband for his revolver. Dean nodded gravely, pulling his salt-loaded shotgun from behind a nearby trash can, and the two of them started to pick through the crowd of oblivious teenagers.
The demon inside Rachel glared at the brothers from behind Rachel’s long brown hair, her beetle black eyes glinting sinisterly as the whites of her eyes were swallowed whole by the demonic blackness. With a single wave of her hand, she knocked the Winchesters back against a row of lockers, pinning them there as their guns fell to the ground, useless. Dean was grimacing, trying to break free of her grip, while Sam started to make noises that suggested he was being strangled.
“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Rachel said, her normally sweet tones laced with a tiny hint of menace. “Pleasure to meet you, boys. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Wish we could say likewise,” Dean said, still straining against the psychic bonds.
“Why are you doing this?” Sam choked out, his face beginning to turn red.
Rachel simply smiled. “Please. I’m a demon. You’re humans. Do I really need a reason?” With that, she waved her hand again, banging both boys’ heads against the lockers, and they both dropped to the ground, unconscious.
---
Dean came to when a locker door slammed right near his head, students milling about in the halls and chattering as they got their books for their next class. Groaning, Dean sat up, clutching his head and looking around for Rachel. “Damn, she’s gone,” he muttered. “But at least we know what meatsuit the demon’s wearing now, right Sam?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“Sam?” Dean looked around, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. The only signs left behind were his revolver and a dent in a nearby locker that was shaped exactly like Sam’s head. Dean’s lip trembled, knowing that demon-Rachel must have kidnapped his little brother. ”Sammy?!”
He sank to his knees in the middle of the crowded hall, threw his head back to the sky, and hoarsely bellowed “SAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!” His anguished cry echoed off the lockers and made several nearby students recoil, but other than that there was no response.
Dean remained slumped on the floor in despair for a few minutes before getting to his feet, cocking his shotgun in determination like the action hero he fancied himself to be. Sam was in danger; he could care less about the safety of the Glee kids. But now, it was up to him to save them all.
Next part...
Rating: PG-13 for language, occasional non-explicit violence, homoerotic incestuous subtext, suspense, and other assorted fucked up shit.
Spoilers: None. Set before Sectionals and sometime during SPN season 1.
Word Count: This part: 2450. Total so far: about 5000.
Summary: Something is attacking the kids of the McKinley Glee Club, and it's up to the Winchesters to save them.
Previously: Part 1
Later that night, after Glee rehearsal had ended, Mercedes and Kurt exited the Glee room together, arm in arm.
“Hold up, Kurt,” Mercedes said as they reached the end of the hallway. “I’ve got to grab something from my locker.”
“You’re going to make us late for the Annie sing-along,” Kurt said impatiently.
“Hush up. I won’t take long.” With that, Mercedes hurried off down the hall, humming “Proud Mary” under her breath almost unconsciously. Kurt was left waiting for her alone by the Glee room door. He sighed, leaning against the lockers casually while checking his watch every few seconds, waiting for her to come back.
Just then, the overhead lights started to flicker; Kurt looked up, slightly unnerved. “The hell’s wrong with the wiring in this school?” he wondered aloud. If only all the school’s money wasn’t going to the cheerleading squad...
A gust of freezing wind tore through the hallway just then, interrupting Kurt’s thought process as his hands flew to his hair in a panic. He tore open his Louis Vuitton bag, pulling out a compact and a fine-toothed comb, meticulously starting to fix it again.
He stared at his reflection with concentration, paying too much attention to his hair to notice the dark figure lurking nearby at first. But as soon as his last hair was back in place, his eyes drifted to where it hovered over his shoulder, a low growl shuddering through the air, and he whirled around sharply to get a better look.
There was no one there.
Kurt’s pulse was racing, his breathing quick and shallow and shaky. “Mercedes?!” he asked, trying not to sound as terrified as he felt.
He was answered by a terrible, bloodcurdling scream, then dead silence. Kurt’s eyes flew wide.
“Mercedes!!” he yelled, sprinting down the hallway toward the sound of her cries, trying not to notice how quickly she had gone silent.
He found her huddled on the floor next to her open locker, knees curled up to her chest, one hand clamped over her mouth, clearly terrified. “Mercedes,” Kurt said, kneeling next to her. “Mercedes, are you hurt? What happened?”
He took her face in his hands, but quickly recoiled with a yelp once he got a good look at her.
Mercedes’s mouth was gone.
---
“Dude, this latest girl doesn’t fit the profile,” Sam told Dean later that night in their motel room. The 11 o’clock news had just shown a segment on Mercedes’s attack. “There has to be some other connection between the victims, other than the football team.”
“Well, you’re the one running background checks on all of them,” said Dean, voice somewhat muffled as his face was pressed into his pillow. “What do you think?”
“Well... this Mercedes girl’s not involved in a whole lot,” Sam said, snuggling under his blankets. “She’s definitely not on the football team; she’s not connected to the team at all. The only thing she does outside of school is Glee club.” He paused. “Come to think of it, those three football players were in the club too!”
“What the hell is a glee club?” Dean asked, turning his head to look over at his brother.
“It’s like show choir,” Sam said.
Dean looked at him blankly.
“You know, singing and dancing?”
Still, Dean shook his head.
“You know,” Sam said insistently. “When we were going to that high school in Oklahoma, I joined one for like three weeks before Dad dragged me out, saying it was killing my hunting instincts?”
Dean snickered. “Oh right, the start of your queer phase.”
Sam sighed as Dean continued to laugh. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Why would a demon go after a glee club?” Sam asked.
“Got me, Sam,” Dean said, sobering. “Maybe they’ve got enemies, maybe the residents of hell are anti-showtunes. Who the hell knows? All I know is, we’ve got to find that evil son of a bitch and kill it.”
Sam sucked in a breath sharply.
Dean looked down. “Sorry, Sammy.”
“Your feet are freezing,” Sam said irritably, looking down between the bedclothes where Dean’s feet were slung over his calves.
“Well, next time, get us a motel room with two beds,” Dean shot back, kicking Sam’s leg with one of his icy feet.
“Ow! I told you, this is cheaper.”
“Whatever, Sammy.” With that, the two of them began a silent tug-of-war over the covers.
---
The next morning, Sam and Dean went to interrogate the members of the Glee club, to see what else they could find out.
“I just don’t get how something like this is possible,” Will said, hand running through his hair.
Sam shrugged. “In my line of work, I see things like this all the time.”
“But you’re a janitor,” Will said, looking at him in surprise.
Sam hesitated a second before hastily covering with, “Well... yeah. You know. A kid mistakes superglue for toothpaste, and the next thing you know...” Will looked skeptical, so he added, “Plus... um... crystal meth has a lot of weird side effects?” Will seemed to accept this, as he nodded in understanding.
Meanwhile, Dean was trying to interrogate Mercedes.
“Did you see who attacked you?” he asked her.
Mercedes’ skin stretched tight over her lower jaw, so she couldn’t speak; but she hesitated a second, eyes nervously darting around the room, before she nodded.
“Who was it?” Dean started to hand her a pad of paper so she could write down a name, but there was no need. Her eyes widened and she nodded in the general direction of Puck, where he was chatting with Rachel and Brittany.
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he watched the young mohawked man flirt with the two girls, leaning over them with one boot propped up by a plastic chair, grinning in a way that suggested he was luring them into some kind of web. Dean knew that look -- he’d made it enough times himself -- and he knew immediately that the kid was no good.
“So,” Sam concluded to Will, “is there anyone who you think might want to hurt the members of your glee club? Someone with a grudge against you, maybe?”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I think I know someone...”
---
Sue Sylvester was busily writing in her journal when Dean Winchester kicked down her door. The crash barely made her look up from her work. “Um... sorry, ma'am. There you go, man,” Dean said gruffly, standing back to let Will through.
Will’s face was red with anger, his chest heaving. “All right, Sue,” he said without preamble, pointing an accusing finger at her. “What did you do to my kids?”
“Oh, hey buddy,” said Sue, shutting her journal and smirking at him. “You finally give up on that Glee pipe dream of yours? Because that cushy job as my personal masseuse is still wide open for ya.”
“Don’t play games with me,” Will snarled, getting down in her face. “The glee club members are losing their mouths one by one, and the new janitors think you have something to do with it.”
Sue looked through the office window at the Winchesters, silently observing the confrontation from the safety of the hallway. “So now you’re taking the advice of two barely-educated, plaid-wearing miscreants?” Sue snorted. “Let me guess. You’ve got a thing for the tall one, don’t you?”
“I... don’t... But maybe they’re right, Sue!” Will practically screamed, pounding her desk with fury. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but it has to be you. You have always been undermining me, every step of the way. And now you’re taking away my kids’ chance to express themselves!” The vein on his neck was beginning to stick out again.
Sue had no idea what Will was talking about, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him get the better of her in an argument.
“Will, Will, Will,” Sue said with disdain, rising to her full height to face him. “How can you think to blame me for your kids’ considerable physical deformities? Next I suppose you’ll be blaming me for crippling Wheels by shoving him down the stairs, or for dropping that Finn Hudson on his head when he was an infant.”
Will straightened up, nostrils flared. “I know it’s you, Sue. I’ll prove it.”
“That so?” Sue smirked, arms folding across her chest in her usual self-satisfied way. “Even if you had any proof, which you clearly don’t and will never have, it’s my word against yours and the janitors’. And if you think Figgins is going to take the word of a fifteen-foot tall ginormatron, a bow-legged redneck, and a man with sulfuric eggs nested in his hair seriously...” She leaned close to him. “Think again.”
Will backed up, scowling heavily, before turning on his heels and marching out of her office. Sue shook her head and went back to her desk. Flipping a page on her journal, she began to furiously scribble a whole new tirade against Will Schuester and his hair.
Back in the hall, Sam said to Dean, “But I thought you said that kid with the mohawk was our guy?”
“He is,” Dean said, arms folded across his chest.
“Then why...?”
“Thought this’d be fun.” Dean flashed Sam a brilliant grin. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”
---
“Dean, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” Sam muttered to his brother as they lurked around the corner from the school’s slushie maker, watching Puck get out a cup and pour himself one.
“Dude, shut it! This plan is foolproof.” Dean beckoned to Puck. “Pssst!” The young man came over to where the two brothers lurked in the corner, a purple slushie in his hand.
“Hey kid,” Dean muttered, reaching into his pocket, “need a little pick-me-up?” He held up a silver flask. “Nothing like a little vodka to help you get through the school day.” Sam tried to hide his Super-Special Puppy Dog Eyes of Disapproval from his brother’s gaze, knowing they needed to sell this latest ruse of theirs if they were to have any chance of saving the Glee kids.
Puck’s eyes glinted greedily, darting back and forth to watch out for teachers, before he held out his slushie for a dose of the flask’s contents. Dean poured in a generous amount before screwing the lid back on.
“You guys are the coolest janitors ever,” Puck enthused. “Almost makes me feel sorry that I stick my used gum under my desk in English class every day.”
“That was YOU?” Sam began, outraged, before Dean laid a hand on his shoulder. Puck chuckled and turned away, raising the cup to his lips as he walked off down the hall.
“All right, you hell bastard,” Dean breathed, putting his flask of holy water back into his jacket pocket, “let’s see you fry.” This was the first phase of their plan: they needed to get some holy water inside Puck to damage the demon wearing him before they could proceed with the exorcism.
But nothing happened when Puck took a sip of the slushie. He took several long gulps of the drink without any ill effects whatsoever, and Dean groaned in disappointment that their only lead had resulted in a dead end.
Puck did, however, make a face in disgust as soon as he realized that there really wasn’t any alcohol in the beverage. But there was no sense in letting a perfectly good slushie go to waste, so he turned around, looking for his next slushying target. Luckily for him (and unluckily for her), Rachel just so happened to standing at her locker nearby, getting her Spanish books out. Barely looking at her, Puck tossed the slushie right in her face as he walked past her.
But the instant that frozen concoction hit her face, Rachel began to scream in agony, steam rising from her skin in tight spirals. She collapsed to the ground, twitching as the holy water took effect; her fellow students walked past her, completely unaware to the supernatural phenomenon taking place.
Sam and Dean, on the other hand, exchanged a look.
“The demon!” Sam gasped, reaching into his waistband for his revolver. Dean nodded gravely, pulling his salt-loaded shotgun from behind a nearby trash can, and the two of them started to pick through the crowd of oblivious teenagers.
The demon inside Rachel glared at the brothers from behind Rachel’s long brown hair, her beetle black eyes glinting sinisterly as the whites of her eyes were swallowed whole by the demonic blackness. With a single wave of her hand, she knocked the Winchesters back against a row of lockers, pinning them there as their guns fell to the ground, useless. Dean was grimacing, trying to break free of her grip, while Sam started to make noises that suggested he was being strangled.
“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Rachel said, her normally sweet tones laced with a tiny hint of menace. “Pleasure to meet you, boys. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Wish we could say likewise,” Dean said, still straining against the psychic bonds.
“Why are you doing this?” Sam choked out, his face beginning to turn red.
Rachel simply smiled. “Please. I’m a demon. You’re humans. Do I really need a reason?” With that, she waved her hand again, banging both boys’ heads against the lockers, and they both dropped to the ground, unconscious.
---
Dean came to when a locker door slammed right near his head, students milling about in the halls and chattering as they got their books for their next class. Groaning, Dean sat up, clutching his head and looking around for Rachel. “Damn, she’s gone,” he muttered. “But at least we know what meatsuit the demon’s wearing now, right Sam?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“Sam?” Dean looked around, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. The only signs left behind were his revolver and a dent in a nearby locker that was shaped exactly like Sam’s head. Dean’s lip trembled, knowing that demon-Rachel must have kidnapped his little brother. ”Sammy?!”
He sank to his knees in the middle of the crowded hall, threw his head back to the sky, and hoarsely bellowed “SAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!” His anguished cry echoed off the lockers and made several nearby students recoil, but other than that there was no response.
Dean remained slumped on the floor in despair for a few minutes before getting to his feet, cocking his shotgun in determination like the action hero he fancied himself to be. Sam was in danger; he could care less about the safety of the Glee kids. But now, it was up to him to save them all.
Next part...