Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Losing My Religion.

Note: To that anon reviewer, this is not a copy of another story (at least, none that I know of). It is of my own creation. To the rest of you, well...this is the last chapter! Heh. Thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites/alerts! So glad you all enjoyed it! Go check out my latest story, The Hunger Glee Games!

That was just a dream
Just a dream
Just a dream

Sam woke up in an unfamiliar room. He felt as if an elephant was sitting on his chest; ugh, so nauseous and dizzy and God why was the light so bright? He tried to sit up but couldn't find the physical strength to do so, that elephant was on his chest and the wind was definitely knocked out of him and where the hell was he? He looked to his left and saw Rory there, breathing heavily and looking terrified.

Rory! He was supposed to be back in the future, in 2040, and Sam was supposed to be in 2012. Why was Rory here? Where was here, anyway? "Rory?"

"Shit," Rory swore. "Shit, shit, shit…oh, God, no…no, no, no…"

Sam could hear other voices, could feel footsteps running towards them. "Rory? Oh, honey, you're back!" Wait, that voice sounded familiar. Way too familiar, as if Sam had heard it nearly every school day for the past two years. A man about in his forties came into the room. He looked like an older version of Kurt.

Wait, he was an older version of Kurt. "Pa, I can explain," Rory was saying.

"Explain what, honey?" Kurt—older Kurt—looked down at the floor where Rory was kneeling. "Oh my God…Rory, you didn't…please tell me you didn't."

"I'm so sorry," Rory started to sob openly. "I didn't mean to, it just happened!"

Sam tried to sit up again; no use, the elephant just wouldn't get off his chest.

"What's going on?" Another head poked into the room. "Is my boy home?"

Blaine! Future Blaine! Sam's head was spinning; this was almost too much to handle.

His head was starting to pound less and less. He was slowly realizing that this was Rory's kitchen, his kitchen back at home, and that he was in the future, Rory's future. He had gone forward in time somehow and God he felt awful. Physically awful, that is; he had no qualms about going with Rory and being with him again.

"…have to get him back," he heard Kurt saying.

"What? N…no, I'm f…fine," he managed to say.

"Holy mother of God," Blaine said aloud. "How did he survive this?"

"I don't know," Kurt's voice was uncharacteristically shaky. "Rory, how did this happen?"

"I was going back, I really was," Rory said through his tears. "And I was almost gone, almost gone and he reached for my hand at the last second."

"Typical Evans," Kurt muttered. "Do you know what you've done?" He demanded of Sam. Sam shook his head, still trying to regain his breathing. "Because of you, Joe Evans—your son—does not exist."

Sam closed his eyes and groaned. "Wh…?"

"By coming here as your seventeen-year-old self, you never married Mercedes Jones," Blaine explained gently. "And because you never married Mercedes, you never had Joe."

"Oh my God," Rory collapsed into a fit of sobs once again. "I told him…I told him about Joe…about all of us…and…and…"

"Shh, you did what you were supposed to," Kurt soothed his son. "Sam, you knew what you were doing and you still did it?"

"Didn't think I'd come back," Sam moaned. He felt weaker than ever.

"I don't know how in the world we're going to get him back," Kurt fretted. "Rory could get in so much trouble over this…how…Rory, do you think you could…?"

"Out of the question," Blaine immediately replied on behalf of his son. "You know it takes Rory a good two or three days to recover from a trip, especially one this long."

"Can't I stay?"

All three Anderson family members looked down at the blonde.

"You'll die if you stay here much longer," Kurt said softly, and Rory again burst into tears. "And even if you lived, you'd have to live knowing that you caused Joe to disappear from existence—again I remind you that he is your son—and with the fact that you can never see your family again, as they'd be grown up by now."

"Wait, so my future self…it doesn't exist?"

"Because you're here, no," Blaine explained. "The laws of time-travel are very complicated, but very firm. You have to go back soon. The sooner you do, the higher a chance you have of living."

"Sir…Blaine…I'd rather die here with Rory than live the rest of my life without him."

"No," Rory said in a strained voice. "Sam, I will not allow that. Go, go back to 2012. Find Mercedes, tell her you want her back. Live the rest of your life with her, enjoy the time you have with Joseph, your child. I promise, we will see each other again. We will not be able to be together, but you can be like an uncle to me and always be there for me." He clutched Sam's hand. "I love you, and it's because I love you that I'm letting you go."

"But, Rory…"

"No." Rory was positive of this. "No, Sam. Go back, please. It's all I ask of you."

"Rachel and Harmony are on their way over; Harmony can take him back. They'll be here in ten minutes." Kurt was as organized and practical as always.

"R…Rachel lives in…in Ireland?"

"Temporarily," Kurt explained. "It's a long story, and you'll see it as you get older. Or, I should say, as we all get older."

Rory refused to let go of Sam's hand until Rachel and her daughter showed up, despite Blaine insisting that he go upstairs to rest. "Is breá liom tú, I love you," Rory leaned down to kiss Sam.

"I love you too," Sam said with his last ounce of strength. Rory begrudgingly let go and stood up, burying his face in Kurt's chest, clutching to his father with all he had. Kurt rubbed his son's back, rocking him back and forth as Rachel's raven-haired girl took Sam by the hand and closed her eyes, saying the words to send them back. She reappeared a few minutes later, alone this time. "He's gone," Rory cried. "He's really gone."

Sam woke up hours later; God, his head hurt. Why did movies and TV shows make time-travelling look so easy? It was a right bitch, Sam thought, as he staggered to the bathroom to puke.


Rory was officially gone from his life. He'd never see him again, or at least, not for another twenty-eight years. Well, make that twelve years; Sam vowed to be there the day Rory was born. He wanted to be there to look into those ocean-blue eyes again.

It all seemed like a dream to him.

He looked down at his finger; how had Rory's promise ring ended up there?

Had it all been just a dream?

The End