Because this place is dead lately...

[health_hazzard]

Title: Rage Against the Dying of the Light. (1/?)

Author: Health-hazzard

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Warnings: AU, (Sort-of).

Word Count: ~5300

Pairings/Characters: Will/Terry, Will/Finn (eventually), Various other minor pairings, and the usual gang.

Notes: In the middle of writing this big big Winn/His Dark Materials AU story that I've been working on for so long, this equally detailed plot bunny surfaced that was too interesting to ignore. And, since I first watched the episode where Finn sings to the sonogram I have also wanted to write a fic that was influenced by Thrice songs and lyrics (there is a Thrice poster on Finn's bedroom wall in case you have no idea what I'm talking about) so I let their music inspire me. Along the way I was also inspired by other songs. (I was also slightly influenced by tv shows and books. So no copyright infringement/offense meant just in case something seems vaguely familiar. And really, sometimes it was me coming up with something only to later find out it's kind of been done/seen elsewhere) Also, since I've been wary of what turns the show has taken I haven't kept up with it and the setting show-wise is somewhere along the period of time where Kurt leaves Mckinley.
P.S. The title is from the poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas.



Prologue

It seemed inevitable, as crazy as Sue Sylvester was, that she would eventually stumble upon nefarious otherworldly means to finally get one William Schuester and his rag-tag group of good-for-nothing pimple factories. And when it happened it was less ‘stumble upon’ than it was ‘hunt down fiercely with the molten rage of Olympus Mons’, in classic Sue fashion. She paid off and bullied one name out of every pathetic, patchouli-smelling, robe-wearing psychic, witch, warlock and weirdo in the entire state of Ohio and select parts of Indiana and Michigan. The one name, was Ted.

Ted the linguistics professor, who had inherited the underground occult library of a distant great uncle, who had happened to be the last living member of an obscure cult following some obscure religion from an obscure society that had never formally existed outside of the Dark Ages. This cult had never really caught on. Whether that was because what they had practiced had actually led them upon some modicum of truth, or because that truth caused them to vanish from society, is neither here nor there. What is of importance is that whispered knowledge of that truth happened to reach one Sue Sylvester. And as most things must do when they travel word of mouth, what was once a complicated story full of intricate explanations and precautions, was dangerously simplified down to ‘there is a book with a spell that will weaken your enemies’. Sue pounced at the idea, as ridiculous as it may have seemed. Eventually Sue’s knack for getting what she wanted prevailed again and she was soon in the possession of a tome so old that many of the pages were tattered scraps and their ink had long faded.

Perhaps because he was a professor of linguistics his distant uncle had bequeathed the ancient tomes to Ted, and Sue ever the pragmatist, had been clever enough to convince the poor professor to translate the instructions into the margins of the book. Along with the translation, Sue had left that dungeon library with a recording of Ted's voice reading out loud the mumbo-jumbo hocus-pocus incantation and a wooden box of the items he had procured for her, at her insistence. The box itself contained a silver tipped raven’s quill, a jar containing a tincture of ink and blood, a thick white candle, an ebony silk ribbon, and a bone needle.

Ted had instructed that she also needed a map and a visage of her enemy, so she had pilfered Will’s wallet and procured a hidden and most likely forgotten picture of Will and his now ex-wife Terry. She wasn’t her target, but Sue couldn’t be bothered to cut Terry out of the picture so he just folder half the picture back. At first Sue had intended to go after Will alone, but history had shown that the pest that was the glee club could live on without its head. So to be thorough, she had raided the locker of one Mercedes Jones where she found a photograph of every member of the glee club, and incidentally some other dark haired teen with an arm wrapped affectionately around dear Kurt. Mysteriously, a map of Ohio had gone missing from the school’s library the previous day as well.

With a sweep of her red tracksuit clothed arm Sue cleared the items off her desk, not even blinking at the loud clatter of cracking plastic and shattered glass. She was too focused to care, she had intended to have the detention kids clean her office later that day anyway.

The first step called for darkness. With the flick of a switch the blinds on all windows, unfurled fully and flicked shut. With another switch the lights went out. The instructions advised against any light brighter than the embers of a fire. What little light shined through the cracks of the blinds glittered off the impressive number of trophies and was just enough to see by. This pleased Sue - even though she had been looking forward to building a bonfire - because she wouldn’t have to wait for a fire to die down, or have to deal with the sprinkler system for that matter.

Sue flicked the recording on and smirked at the quivering voice mumbling gibberish as she began the spell. She flung one last errant piece of paper off of her desk and settled the book and the map of Ohio down. As per the instructions she dipped the quill in the bloody ink and began to copy the foreign lines and symbols in her loopy scrawl around the state. The moment the quill touched the map a chill began to gather and condensed in the room. Unbeknownst to Sue, the AC had broken the previous day and was not currently pumping in cold air as had been her assumption.

After joining the last two broad black lines to finish the circle, she lit the dove white candle with a confiscated lighter and dripped a jagged but surprisingly accurate circle of wax around the symbols' outer perimeter. She pulled a wad of photographs from her pocket and flipped through them. Sue haphazardly stacked them together, the top one displaying the beaming face of Finn Hudson, until it was hidden under the black ribbon she used to affix the photos around the still burning candle. She tied the ribbon as tightly as she could. With the candle in one hand, she picked the bone needle up with the other and jammed it impossibly deep through the dot that was Lima and into the solid wood desk below. With the chanting nearing its end she drove the candle upright onto the rest of the needle that was still exposed so it stood affixed, almost as if hovering over Lima. As Sue waited for her next queue she noticed out of the corner of her eye the dots of light on her trophies, which had stood frozen before now, suddenly began to flicker like failing candlelight. The twinkling matched the waver of Ted’s voice, surging slightly to match a sliver of confidence and dimming when he had trouble speaking. Sue easily ignored the wavering lights but the puff of steaming breath that condensed in the now frigid room was harder to dismiss. Quickly Sue picked up the still full jar with her frigid fingers and in sync with the last lingering syllable of the chanting, poured the rest of the tincture over the candle.

As the ink and blood flowed down, it slowed, struggling against the light to follow the law of gravity. The air itself vibrated and roared with the struggle of the ichor to douse the flickering candle, for a moment it hovered unmoved and then finally the ink snuffed the pale flame. The second the tincture met the fire it flowed down and out in a blooming black shadow that swept Sue up into the darkness and continued on in all directions taking everyone in its wake.

Unfortunately for Sue Sylvester - and all of Ohio and minor parts of the surrounding states that had managed to be contained in the circle of sigils and wax - Ted was not one of the better professors at his university. When he came upon the passage that asked for the spell to be directed in the enemy’s home, he had thought it meant that it needed directions to their home. He had suggested using a local map, which would have mistakenly taken all of Lima. However, Sue’s enemy was in fact a group. And since part of the directions were for her to force the one needle into her enemy’s home, she had stolen the map of Ohio from the library, figuring the whole of Lima was their collective home. So when she called upon dark forces to defeat her enemies and fling them out of existence, she had sent the whole state and herself into the abyss along with them.

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Chapter 1

Finn shivered at the chill of the pale morning and leaned further into the warm flank of the horse he was leading into the stable. The creature gave a rough snuffle and leaned back full force into him, pulling a chuckle from the teen. He caught himself before he stumbled and his lean became a little more affectionate against her. The horse followed Finn past the other horses, acknowledging them with a neigh along the way to an unclaimed stall. Finn guided her in and then turned her around to face him. She puffed a hot steaming breath into his hair as he grasped the bridle strapped behind her head.

“Hold on girl, it’s almost off,” Finn whispered to her as the straps slipped free, “there you go Rosie, all done.”

Finn gave her head a light pat and chuckled again at the look in her eyes before he tuned back. He carefully closed the whitewashed stall door and walked to Rosie’s usual stall, lightly listening to the hard sound his leather boots made on the nearly frozen ground. He sighed deeply at the state of Rosie’s stall but immediately regretted it as his condensed breath made it that much harder to try to ignore the frigid air.

Despite the cold, ten minutes of fighting with the frozen hay bed with a pitchfork had Finn flinging his coat over the open stall door. He had worn his warmest fur lined knee length coat but the heavy heat from the struggle had become too much for the teen to withstand. He contemplated taking off his knit pullover, but it was thin enough to abate the chill and soothe his flushed skin simultaneously. He flicked the neck of the sweater for a little airflow before picking up the pitchfork again.

Another hour of working at the hay and Finn was just about done. By now he had also taken off the ash colored sweater, only a simple white v-necked shirt clung to his damp skin. After a fresh bed of hay, his morning duties were officially over. Finn had cleaned Rosie’s stall and also distributed feed to the horses since the farmhand was away. He was due any day now and when he came back, Finn would go back to only being responsible for Rosie. Finn much preferred it that way, Rosie deserved his undivided attention. He walked back to the occupied stall and returned with her following closely behind.

“There you go girl, all nice and clean.” Finn explained as Rosie entered her stall. The neigh of approval made Finn grin, “Well I’m glad you like it. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Finn pulled out a sweet red apple from his long coat, polishing it on the thigh of his heavy pants. He held it up for her to take, stroking the white patch on her face for a moment.

“I’ll come back for a ride later okay? We’ll make all of the other horses jealous.”

The horse nodded as if responding.

“Atta’ girl.”

He left the horse with a final pat and a smile. Finn gathered his discarded outerwear, holding it over his arm to let some of the residual heat dissipate from his skin. The sun had risen white and pale over the dark forest of leafless trees, doing nothing to warm the earth. The sky had been virtually overcast for months, leaving the world in a demure palette of grays, dull browns and beiges. Any other color looked unnaturally dark and dull in the sun’s poor white light.

Finn juggled the sweater and jacket when he was cold again. The teen loosely hung the jacket on his shoulders and continued down the fenced footpath to the house. As he walked he let himself worry, it had been a long winter and now it was time for spring, but the frost had not abated and the nights had lingered just as long. If the cool weather did not lift soon then there would not be enough at the harvest and the local towns would suffer. The worry did not last however; his mother was a daughter of the earth after all, the weather would most probably soon turn in their favor.

Finn walked into his home, thankful for the lingering warmth of last night’s fire. He took off his heavy work boots and slipped into soft shoes that were waiting there for him just inside of the door. For once he took care to leave his boots in the exact spot his mother had designated rather than scattered on his way to the kitchen where he would forget and trip over them like so many times before.

With his coat and sweater in his hand he walked into the kitchen expecting to see his mother at the stove and the delicious sight of potatoes, eggs, bacon and buttered toast; their smell wafting invitingly from the table. Instead he was met by an empty room and utter silence. He fetched and drank a much needed glassful of orange juice from a pitcher in the fridge before he really wondered why his mom was not up. Finn wasn’t one to deny his mother a day in bed, but there had never been a day in Finn's life when his mother had not risen by dawn.

With a growing sense of dread, that left the juice ice cold in his stomach, he climbed the stairs. His steps seemed to resound too loudly in the large house. Even the birds that usually chirped cheerily from the tree line right outside were strangely mute. He stopped at the landing, looking down the hall at his mother’s door standing wide open. Down at the floor he caught a glimpse of a pale hand loosely draped, palm down, across the carpet.

“Mom!”

Finn rushed to her door, gasping at seeing her limp on the floor.

“No, no, no! Mom!” He lifter her hand and let himself breathe at the strum of a pulse.

“Mom. Please wake up!”

Finn lifted her and carried her to the plush bed, laying her down carefully. He felt her pulse one more time to make sure, and thanked the heavens when it pulsed strong under his fingertips. Finn shook her shoulders lightly, why wouldn’t she wake up? He checked her head carefully but there were no injuries that he could see. She looked pale and tired, but more than anything she looked like she was asleep.

But why isn’t she waking up?

Finn sat still and closed his eyes, he took a deep breath just like his mother had taught him to do in dire situations. A couple of breaths later he had cleared his head of the panic long enough to make the decision to fetch a physician. The closest doctors were probably at McKinley castle. It would be a tricky, the Queen wasn’t known for her mercy, but he had to try. The nearest hospital was just too far, and Finn had no idea what would happen if he waited too long. With a plan in place he could not hold the panic back any longer. He was down the stairs and out the door before he could pick up the jacket or sweater he had left over a chair or even his boots by the door. He ran through the stable to the far end, spooking the horses along the way. At the end, Rosie waited impatiently at the sound of him. Perhaps sensing his urgency she looked jittery. She neighed and snuffled, stamping her feet in agitation.

“Rosie, mom’s in trouble. I have to make it to the castle as fast as possible. Can you do that for me girl?”

He guided her out of the stall quickly and the second he had flung himself over her bare back, she shot out of the stable like an arrow from a newly strung bow.

Up the path that lead away from his home, merging onto one of the local main roads, crossing half frozen streams in the woods and through small villages; not once did Finn let himself think too much about his mom's condition lest he loose control.

Not until he had reached the outermost gates of the castle over two hours later did Finn notice that his hands were numb around the tuft of Rosie’s mane and that his tears had left frost across his high cheekbones. He licked his dry frigid lips and held himself tight to suppress the shivers that he would no doubt be unable to stop if he let them overcome him.

Finn broke through the wooden gates expecting guards to surge up immediately. The guard posts were mysteriously empty, he didn’t stop to question it but the answer came to him immediately. This was the ferocity that this new Queen was known for, she welcomed the challenge of invading factions. She would not be his best bet for help but he had no choice, his mother was everything to him. It had only ever been his mother and him since his father died in some war when he was a baby, leaving the farm in her care. At 17 he was legally an adult in this land, but if his mother passed as well, Finn was sure that he would be as lost and helpless as a child.

Rosie raced through the castle’s inner village, past market stands and homes and angry villagers shouting obscenities at their fast receding backs. The bigger village gave way to a slightly nicer area with fewer pedestrians to knock over on the way to the castle center. They ran through several towering walls and up wide stairs to finally reach the inner castle. The sudden stop after running full force for hours jarred Finn deeply. He took a moment to breathe before he slipped off of Rosie’s back. He shook out his strained legs and stroked Rosie’s heaving side. Finn was thankful for the bucket of cold but clean looking water that someone had left forgotten by the well just outside. He had never exerted her this much, but he was so grateful that Rosie had never once looked like she was going to slow down.

“I’ll be right back girl. If anyone tries to take you, kick them, or bite them like you usually do.”

He pushed through a solid wood door that looked like the formal entrance. Like the outer gate, this door’s guard posts were also vacant. There beyond the door, brutes and vixens of young men and women congregated in the courtyards planted before the castle’s main entrance. Some practiced skills of agility and combat, others took a meal or walked around taking in the morning. As focused as they all seemed in their respective activities, everyone stood at attention and stared at the young man. More than a thousand pairs of eyes followed Finn as he rushed past them, almost reaching the castle doors before two of those brutes stepped forward. One, wide shouldered and dark skinned, the other, burly and masking sad eyes behind false bravado.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” The one with the sad eyes grabbed him by the neck of his thin shirt.

“I’m going to see the Queen to ask her for aide because my mother is sick.” Finn explained, trying to push past them.

“Don’t even think about it pretty boy, no one gets to see her majesty just because they want to, not even poor little boys worried about their mommy.”

Finn’s arm reared back to slug the smug teen when the doors flung open of their own accord, startling the three of them. The congregation of young men and women that had witnessed the near altercation picked back up where they had left off. Without a word both guys dropped Finn, only to grab him by the arms and nearly drag him inside. Not once did they answer his questions but he didn’t push it, they were taking him deeper into the castle and thus closer to the Queen. They dragged him down endless stone corridors and passages, through increasingly bigger doors until they reached one that seemed the most monumental with its wood surface carved intricately and inlayed with gold. The rough teens had to let go of Finn to force the doors open wide enough to push him inside. Finn found himself sprawled on the rug covered stone floor, aware that the teens had already sealed the door behind him. He went to follow them but he was distracted by a single clap coming from behind him. He turned and took in the large chamber lined with tapestries, sashes, and thick carpets. At the end of the room there was a row of several thrones, the biggest of which was occupied.

“Well hello there loyal subject. What can I do for you today?” The Queen asked with a keen look in her eyes. She was not what Finn had expected. Her smile was wide but she somehow reminded him of a harpy he had once seen in a drawing in one of his mother’s books. Her eyes were sharp like an eagle’s, her robe the same shade as that ruby he’d once seen from afar, and her hair flaxen curls hidden mostly under an enormous ornate crown of gold, silver and jewels.

For a moment Finn just stared at her rather welcoming and almost cheerful demeanor. Finn bowed as low as he could with the respect that was demanded in the presence of royalty.

“Your highness. I do not want to take up your time, but my mother is sick. I came upon her on the floor unconscious and I could not rouse her. She needs a doctor and the closest physicians work here in the castle. I was hoping that you would be merciful and lend me their service for a day. I’ll forever be in your debt milady.”

“Let me get this straight young man.” She paused for a moment. “You wish me to give you one of my doctors just because your mother likes to take naps?”

Before Finn could snap back an answer the Queen spoke again.

“What if I were to break a nail or twist my ankle? Would you deny me all of the medical attention at my disposal?”

Finn didn't know whether she was joking or not so he chose not to respond.

“No of coarse not silly boy. What is it that you do anyways?”

“I’m a farmer your majesty, but…”

Before he could continue Queen Sylvester let out a cackle of a laugh that echoed hollowly around the throne room.

“A farmer? You must be joking,” The queen professed, eyes sharp. “You expect me to lend one of my doctors to a farm boy? That is so ridiculous it’s almost funny, and insulting.”

The cruelty in her words left Finn stunned.

“Request denied, now out of my sight before I feed you to my lions.” She dismissed him flippantly, but never dropped her piercing gaze from him.

Without being prompted a force took hold of him and worked his numb legs backwards until he was suddenly flung through the door without it ever having to open. The gilded doors higher than he could fathom were once again solid when he stood up and pushed against them. The silence in the dark empty hall was disturbed by the rush of blood in Finn's ears. For a moment he stood there, hands flat on the inlayed wall not really breathing, until a whisper caught his attention.

“Hey you, come here. Quickly before anyone sees you.”

Finn's gaze roved across the hall behind him from one side to the other, wondering who the man though was going to catch sight of him. Without giving it much thought Finn stepped towards the voice, hiding behind a much smaller door several meters from the throne room. He paused before slipping inside. There stood the owner of the voice, a graying and tired looking man probably in his sixties. He stood a couple of feet from Finn in front of a large hanging tapestry.

“I overheard your conversation with the Queen. I am sorry I’m not a doctor but I think I might be able to help.”

“What? Really?” Finn’s eyes widened and his frozen expression broke away into a wide hopeful smile.

“Well I can’t make any promises, but the nearest hospital is a hard days ride. I am pretty sure I've read about a remedy to combat any kind of sleep.” The sincerity in the man's voice was more than enough for Finn.

“Thank you so much! I don’t know what I could have done without you.” Finn couldn’t help but send a quick thanks upward to whoever needed to be thanked. When he glanced back down he noticed that the man was standing up against a tapestry of birds. Finn found it appropriate the way the man looked like an angel standing in front of a heron in flight. This man had made him hopeful after he was left dumbfounded by the Queen’s callousness. Finn couldn’t help but move forward to hug the man.

“Whoa there, not so fast buddy,” the man hastened to say, hands up, with an apologetic grin. “Not that I have anything against hugging but you are as tall as a tree and look like you could take on a plow horse. These bones aren’t what they used to be and I’d be no help to you if I’m also in need of a doctor.” The man let out a disarming chuckle, that Finn echoed in relief.

“Sorry about that. You just don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“I’m happy to help and I'm sure you would have done the same. Wait right here I’ll be right back.”

Finn waited impatiently, almost stomping the ground like a jittery horse. With that thought he wondered how they were going to get to the farm. Finn had ridden Rosie all his life and he did not fear riding bareback, but the kindly older gentleman probably would have reservations. He contemplated going after the man but he hadn’t really seen which door or turn he had had taken down the corridor. Finn took a step in the direction the man had gone but he mysteriously came through the door to his left.

“This is the book, let us not waste more time,” the man pulled forward a knapsack stuffed with a large but thin book flung over his shoulder. “Follow me so we don’t have to go through Sue’s army.”

“Who's army?” Finn asked the retreating man, not bothering to lighten his steps as the plush carpet dampened any noise.

The man looked back with a smile and replied, “The Queen, that’s her name, Sue Sylvester. I only know because I was here when the King was in power and she was just his war general. He was the only one who would call her by her first name, you know, before he disappeared.”

“Oh. Speaking of names, mine is Finn Hudson.” Finn walked briskly behind the man taking his lead down the corridor lined with doors, paintings, and the occasional window.

“It’s nice to meet you Finn, I’m…”

A couple of boisterous laughs carried fast around the corner of a merging corridor a few meters ahead of them.

“Here, they can’t see us walking around the castle or they’ll string us up by our ankles.” The man turned to the nearest door, quickly unlatching it with some kind of pin.

Finn stood quietly beside the man in what seemed to be an abandoned classroom and waited as the jeers and boisterous laughs of immature young men and women passed. They quickly fled the dark room and headed down the hall again, taking a turn into a corridor lined with windows on both sides until they reached the arched doors at it’s end that lead out of the castle.

“From which direction did you come in?” The old man led Finn across a small courtyard to an open arch in the surrounding wall. Once out of the castle they walked through a small market, dodging members of Sue’s army and merchants trying to sell them their wares.

“Through the big wooden gates, the front I guess?” Finn spoke loudly through the squawks of caged birds at a stall they had just passed.

“Through the front? Where Sue’s army congregates?” The older man turned his head back, his eyebrow raised, clearly impressed.

“Yeah. I’ve only visited the castle for the big summer market and that’s the only way I know inside.” Finn replied honestly, “Where are we going by the way? I left my horse near the gate.”

“I’m heading to the castle’s stables.” Immediately afterwards they turned a corner in to a small alley that emerged behind the castle’s stone stables. “You can reach the front gate if you go down that alley.” He pointed in the right direction, “at the end take a right and the first two lefts. Find your horse while I saddle one and meet me back here.”

Finn followed the man’s directions and true to his word he was soon back at his horse.

“Hey Rosie, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.” Finn settled himself on her back and stroked her neck. “I’ve found somebody who can help mom. He’s a nice guy so don’t bite him, okay? I know you bite everybody but not him, he’s off limits.”

Finn led Rosie in a trot back the direction he came. Finally he could fully come back to himself by concentrating on the clatter of Rosie’s hooves on the cobbled floor and their echo off the stone walls. He could focus once again, his mind no longer gripped in panic and thoughts of his mother. The worry was still there, but the urge to bawl like a child was gone. Halfway to the first turn back the old man rounded the corner riding a powerful white stallion. The image looked rather odd to Finn, an old man riding a prime stallion, but he dismissed the thought.

“The way out is actually in this direction so I figured that waiting for you back at the stable would just be wasted time.”

Finn let out a laugh that was more of a sigh, “I can’t thank you enough sir. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there to help. I’m so lucky.”

“Finn, I’m sorry. Like I said, I can’t guarantee anything, but I promise I’ll try. I spend a lot of the time in the library reading, I don’t think Sue or her people have ever even step foot in there. It’s enormous and I’ve read a lot of the medical books. I don’t understand a fourth of what they say but I did remember this one,” he nudged the book at his back, “had a few chapters on sleeping ailments and how to combat them.”

“Well thanks again, just for trying.” Finn replied to the man as they passed the front gates that were still wide open after he had crashed through in his haste. He looked back at the aging man. Now that his mind was a bit clearer he caught himself noticing the greying curls and strong jaw framing his weathered face.

“I never did catch your name sir.”

By then they were off riding to the west, following the sun's path across the sky on their way to Finn’s home. They raced against the wind, loud in their ears, but Finn managed to hear the old man’s reply anyway.

“It’s Will. Will Schuester.”