Author's Note: Well my faithful readers, after nearly five years (!) this is finally the very end of Glee & Glory. If I'd known it would take me this long to write I probably would have been too intimidated to even begin, but it's going to seem strange not to have the next chapter in my head anymore. I do hope to revise this into a non-fanfiction novel and get it published, even if I have to do it myself, but there's no telling how long that will take. Any developments on that front will be posted on my Tumblr at gleeandglory dot tumblr dot com.

I had planned from early on to do an epilogue that tied Glee & Glory back to the canonical, modern-day version of Glee, although initially I thought this would be just a short scene at the end of the last chapter. But in the time it took me to write this story, canon became a lot more complicated and eventually I felt I needed a whole chapter. The full six-season canon included things that I personally wasn't wild about, but it is what it is.

Thanks again to my beta Elizabeth, who helped me see what wasn't working about an earlier version of this chapter. Oh, the song mentioned in this chapter is 1966 hit "Winchester Cathedral" by The New Vaudeville Band. The Dalton school song is my own invention.

"It's amazing how much Jane Austen and I have in common," Rachel declared.

Kurt knew that his friend hadn't been much of an Austen fan until she'd seen the script for Jane Austen Sings!, but since then she'd become obsessed. She read all the novels, plus several biographies, and their regular movie nights had turned into Austen adaptation nights.

Although he enjoyed the costumes, especially Colin Firth's wet shirt, Rachel's Austenmania was getting to be a bit much for Kurt. "How are you like Jane Austen?" he asked. Rachel had never written anything except a few songs, and one of those had been "My Headband".

"She loved music and theater, just like I do. We both had too much talent for the small towns we came from, and we were both unlucky in love."

"Who's unlucky in love?" Jesse said, leaning over the couch and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"I said we were. Past tense." Rachel smiled up at her husband. "Poor Jane didn't get a second chance with Tom Lefroy the way I did with you."

Jesse kissed her on the cheek. "Butter on your popcorn, my muse?"

"Margarine."

"That's what I meant."

"Then yes," said Rachel. "And salt, but not too much."

Jesse wandered back to the kitchen to prepare the vegan-friendly popcorn. When he and Rachel had first gotten back together Kurt had been sure it wouldn't last, but Jesse had come a long way since his Vocal Adrenaline days. Which was lucky for Kurt, because otherwise he didn't think he'd be able to stand what sickening little lovebirds Jesse and Rachel had become. He sometimes had to remind himself that they were still newlyweds, and that Rachel had put up with him and Blaine when they were first living together in their old apartment in Bushwick.

Over the sound of popcorn popping, Kurt could hear Blaine laughing at something Jesse had said. The two of them had become pretty good friends. This had surprised Kurt perhaps more than it should have. They actually did have a lot in common. Rachel liked to say that she and Kurt had always had similar taste in men and were now both married to talented, gorgeous guys with naturally curly hair. Yet although he knew better than to say this to Rachel, Kurt couldn't help thinking that his husband was the more talented and more gorgeous of the two.

Meanwhile, Rachel was continuing her monologue about Jane Austen. "Now that I understand her better," she said. "I've realized that I can't truly become Jane without going to England."

"Sure you can," Kurt said. "It's called acting."

She ignored this. "I have to see what she saw, and visit all the places that she wrote about. Then there's the accent."

"You could get an accent coach."

"That's not the same thing."

"It's probably cheaper, though."

Jesse and Blaine returned from the kitchen, each carrying a bowl of steaming popcorn. "Did I just hear you tell Rachel to buy something cheap?" asked Blaine. He set the bowl down on the coffee table. "Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?"

Kurt moved over on the couch to make room for Blaine. "We weren't talking about clothes."

"Now I know you're an imposter!"

"I was just telling Kurt about our trip to England," Rachel said to Jesse.

"Ah yes, our working vacation," he replied. "We both need to explore Jane Austen's world if we're going to bring it to life onstage."

"We've got it all planned out," said Rachel. "We're going at the end of May, and we want you guys to come with us."

"Wait, really?" Kurt asked. While he thought Rachel's method acting approach was silly, he had wanted to go to England ever since he was a little boy reading the Harry Potter books. "Are you sure it won't be weird, having us tag along?"

"It's not like it's our honeymoon," she said.

"And we'll have separate bedrooms," Jesse added. "Uh, we will, won't we, honey?"

"Yes! I do not need to relive our Bushwick days," Rachel said with a laugh. "I just want us to do something fun together before I'm huge and pregnant." They were waiting until after Jane Austen Sings! got off the ground to do the insemination. An Empire waist gown could hide a baby bump for several months, but Rachel didn't want to be dealing with morning sickness during rehearsals.

"I don't know," said Blaine, glancing at Kurt. "Shouldn't we be saving our money?"

"We are saving money. I've saved practically everything I've made from QVC." Kurt's line of jewelry had been slow to take off, but he'd finally turned a profit over the Christmas season. More than enough to pay for two round-trip tickets to London, as long as they flew economy. Even after Blaine's Grammy nomination they didn't have a first class income.

"Babies are expensive, though."

"That's why we should take a vacation now," Kurt said. "We won't have the money next year, or the time. Not if we're busy with a baby."

"All right," Blaine said, smiling. "You've convinced me."

Rachel clapped her hands. They talked about the trip for a while before settling down to watch Emma. It was the version with Gwyneth Paltrow, who always reminded Kurt of Holly Holliday.

Later, after Jesse and Blaine left to pick up the Chinese takeout for dinner, Rachel brought up another of Austen's real life romances. "She met a man when she was on vacation with her family. They fell in love and planned to get married, but he died. It means something, don't you think?"

"I don't know." Kurt was not inclined to believe that such coincidences meant anything – it seemed too close to believing that everything was a part of God's plan, and he saw no evidence for either God or the plan – but this wasn't the kind of answer Rachel was looking for. As happy as she was with Jesse, he knew she hadn't forgotten Finn.

"My dad and Carol were really excited when I told them you were going to be back on Broadway," he said. This may have seemed like a non sequitur, but it was at least something Kurt knew to be true. "They want to be there on opening night. Finn would have wanted to be there too."

"I wish he could be," she said softly. "I love Jesse, and I love the life I have now, but…I wish he were still here. I don't know if things would have worked out between us in the long run, but we could still have been friends. At least, I hope we could have. He never liked Jesse."

"Finn wanted you to be happy. Even when you weren't together. I know he and Jesse didn't get along, but Jesse was kind of a jerk back then."

"He wasn't that bad," Rachel protested.

"You're right, he was worse," said Kurt. She lobbed a throw pillow at him, which he tossed back at her. "I was about to say that he's a lot more mature now, unlike some people. Finn would have understood that, and he'd be happy for you and Jesse."

Rachel hugged the pillow. "He'd be happy for you and Blaine, too."

"I know," Kurt said. "But thanks."

Their travel itinerary was inspired by the Austen biographies Rachel had been reading. After two days in London they visited Chawton, touring the house where Jane Austen had lived, and then moved on to Winchester, where she had died. Rachel had knelt down by her grave in Winchester Cathedral and said "Jane, dear Jane, I will try to do you justice." Kurt had rolled his eyes at Blaine, but it had been rather touching. He had known Rachel long enough to know that she was inclined to be overly dramatic even when completely sincere.

After Winchester they were to continue by train to Bath, although Blaine had arranged to make a stop with Kurt along the way. This excursion had nothing to do with Jane Austen. When Jesse heard where Blaine wanted to go, he had asked "That's not a real place, is it? Wasn't it just made up for the show?"

"Highclere Castle is real," said Rachel, looking up from her dog-eared copy of Claire Tomalin's Jane Austen: A Life. "Our train isn't going that way, though. Maybe on the way back to London—"

"Not Downton Abbey," Kurt interjected. "Dalton Abbey."

"It was the sister school to Dalton Academy," Blaine explained. "I thought it would be nice for me and Kurt to see it since...since our Dalton is gone." He looked to Kurt and said "If you want to, I mean."

"Of course I want to."

They got off the train in Salisbury and took a bus to the village of Dalton. After having lunch at the only pub in the village, they walked the half mile to Dalton Abbey. The route proved to be largely uphill, but the day was mild and the scenery was pleasant. They passed a small stone church with stained glass windows and a tower that looked like a chess piece.

"How old do you think that church is?" asked Kurt. He kept being struck by the fact that everywhere they went in England there were buildings older than the United States. Not just museums either, but buildings that regular people were still using.

"From the Middle Ages, I guess."

"It doesn't look as old as Winchester Cathedral."

Blaine responding by singing "Winchester Cathedral, you're bringing me down."

"You promised you'd stop that." During their time in Winchester, Blaine had almost constantly been singing, humming, or whistling this oldie.

"It's too nice a day not to sing."

"You can sing something else," Kurt said. "Anything else."

His husband flashed him a brilliant smile. "The Dalton song?"

"If you must."

"Sing it with me."

Kurt sighed theatrically. "Fine."

"Boldly we go with hearts brave and true," Blaine began. Kurt joined in for the next line. "We are the men of Dalton in our coats of navy blue..." They sang it through three times before the gates of the school came into view. Blaine jogged ahead, and Kurt suddenly found himself singing about "thy stately halls" alone.

Blaine was standing between the open gates, looking at the view beyond. He turned and beckoned to Kurt. "You have to see this!" he called. "It's just like the painting!"

Kurt hadn't thought of the painting in the corridor outside the upperclassmen's lounge for years. He hadn't even known he remembered it until he saw the green park with the lane winding through it to a pale stone building that Kurt could only think of as a stately hall. It looked nothing like the châteauesque red brick school that he and Blaine had attended, but still it was familiar.

When they entered the front doors of the school they were met with another oddly familiar sight: a grand staircase with windows in the ceiling above. It was different from the one at "their" Dalton – the stairs turned at an angle instead of spiraling, and the windows were set in a cupola – but similar enough to remind Kurt of the other school, now gone.

This, he thought, was where he and Blaine would have met, had Blaine been a student at Dalton Abbey and Kurt a show choir spy from another school. He didn't know if they even had show choirs in England, but they must have some type of competitive event. Debate, or fencing, or Quidditch or something. Kurt's understanding of British boarding schools was based largely on Hogwarts, but he was sure there were reasons why two boys from rival schools might meet by chance on the stairs.

They followed the signs to the school's office, where they were greeted by a middle aged woman. "You must be the Americans," she said with a smile when she heard their accents. "I'm Mrs. Reynolds, the visits manager."

"I'm Blaine Anderson, and this is my husband Kurt Hummel."

"Oh, how nice," she said, in the too-bright way people did when they were trying to make it clear that they were accepting. Kurt found this a bit irritating at times, but it was certainly better than dealing with people who weren't accepting.

"I hope we're not too late for the tour," said Blaine.

"You're right on time. The other parents are in the parlor. Is your son with you today?"

"We don't have children," said Kurt. "Not yet."

"I thought you looked a bit young for it. Planning ahead, are you?"

"Well, maybe, but that's not really why we're here. We both went to Dalton Academy," Blaine explained. "In Ohio."

Mrs. Reynolds nodded sympathetically. "We were all so sorry to hear what happened to your school," she said. "Were you there when it happened?"

"Not as a student," Blaine said. "I was working as the coach for the school choir at the time."

The Dalton Academy fire was still a sensitive subject for Blaine. The cause had never been determined, although Kurt suspected Sue Sylvester had been involved somehow. Thinking it best to change the subject, he said "We're on vacation with some friends. Since we were in the area, we thought we'd stop and see the original Dalton."

"Well, we're always happy to see Old Daltonians, no matter where they're from," Mrs. Reynolds said. "Just follow me and we'll begin the tour." She led the way to the room where the other visitors were waiting.

It was the half term holiday, and except for their tour group the school appeared to be deserted. The click of Mrs. Reynolds's sensible heels on the marble floors echoed down the empty halls. As they walked she explained the history of the school and its traditions, although Kurt was more interested in the building itself and its decorations. The room used for formal receptions held a beautiful grand piano. Portraits of the many lords and ladies of the Dalton family looked down at the visitors from the walls.

The seventh Baron Dalton, co-founder of Dalton Abbey School, was not among them. Mrs. Reynolds explained that he was "something of a free spirit" and had never sat for an oil painting. In a less formal room, she pointed out the small pencil portraits ("Believed to be by Ingres") of the school's two founders, framed together. There was also a glass case in which was displayed an old uniform blazer, very similar to the ones Kurt and Blaine had worn at Dalton Academy, "Inspired by the boating blazers of Corpus Christi College at Oxford, where Lord Dalton studied…"

The tour concluded in the garden behind the school, which they were told had once been a hedge maze. There they were joined by the deputy headmaster for a question and answer session. Kurt and Blaine hung back as the parents inquired about the coursework and activities at Dalton.

"It's a shame about the hedge maze," Kurt said. "I would have killed for a hedge maze when I was a kid."

"Really? I always thought they were kind of scary, like in Goblet of Fire. Or The Shining."

"It would have been a great hiding place. I probably wouldn't have been thrown into the Dumpster so often if there had been a hedge maze at McKinley."

"Maybe the boys here don't need to hide," said Blaine. "If it's like our Dalton, there shouldn't be any bullies."

There were, Kurt thought, bullies everywhere. Rich bullies – like Sebastian Smythe and Hunter Clarington – could be the worst of all. Wherever their child went to school, it seemed all too likely that he or she would run into trouble. A kid who was half Rachel, half Kurt, and had two gay dads was practically guaranteed to have great skin, a great voice, and be a prime target for bullies. The world was changing, but not that fast.

The deputy headmaster was talking about exams now. The parents were listening intently while the younger boys fidgeted and yawned. Kurt decided to look around the garden. He wandered around a flower bed towards a gazebo-like structure made of white stone, with columns supporting a rounded roof.

There was a statue of a woman inside. She was presumably one of the Greco-Roman goddesses, although Kurt wasn't sure which one. Her modest tunic seemed to rule out Aphrodite, and she lacked the helmet and shield of Athena. There was a strap across her chest, almost like she was carrying a purse, but Kurt guessed that it was probably a quiver of arrows. That would make her Artemis, although her outstretched hand held no bow.

Her face seemed strangely familiar. She looked a little like Quinn Fabray, but Quinn was a classic beauty. A lot of statues looked a little like her. There was something else, something that Kurt couldn't quite recall.

"Most of the students here would probably prefer a Venus de Milo," said Blaine behind him.

"And the rest would prefer Michelangelo's David," said Kurt. "Hey, was there a painting of this at Dalton?"

"Not that I remember. Why?"

"I feel like I've seen it before."

"It's probably a copy of a famous statue."

"No, I'm pretty sure I saw it just like this." Kurt held up his hands to frame the scene. "Inside a little temple in a garden. Only it was fall instead of spring."

"Maybe you were here in another life."

Blaine, who described himself as "spiritual" rather than religious, occasionally said things like this – things that sounded as ridiculous to Kurt as believing that the world was created in six days or that a grilled cheese sandwich could grant wishes. But he had learned that happy marriages are full of little compromises. He had (mostly) stopped making sarcastic comments while Blaine was reading the horoscopes, and Blaine had stopped telling Kurt that he was being "such a Gemini" when he was angry.

Still, he could not let a reference to his own supposed reincarnation go entirely unchallenged. "Tina told me that people can't remember their past lives. Well, Buddha could, but not like regular people."

"Tina's not even a Buddhist."

"She took a class," Kurt said. "At Brown."

"Buddhists aren't the only ones who believe in reincarnation. Socrates said that we're reborn again and again so we can learn to love wisdom," said Blaine. "I took a class," he added. "At NYU."

Kurt looked up at the statue again, and the sense of déjà vu was even stronger. "You gave me a tour right after I transferred to Dalton," he said. "That must have been when you showed me the painting. I remember we were looking at it and talking about the Greek gods and which ones were our favorites. Yours was Apollo."

"That's right," said Blaine. "The god of music. And yours was..."

"Athena."

"The war goddess?"

"Sure," said Kurt. "She's smart, she can sew, she has an owl."

What Athena did not have, according to tradition, was a boyfriend. Neither did her sister, Artemis. Nor, for that matter, did Kurt himself when he'd transferred to Dalton Academy. He might not be able to remember exactly where the painting had hung, but he recalled with painful clarity how embarrassed he'd felt to be discussing virgin goddesses with Blaine Anderson. The dreamiest boy in all of Ohio, who at that point only liked him as a friend.

"That does sound like you," said Blaine.

"Of course it sounds like me, it was me."

"Or your previous incarnation."

This was said with a slight smirk that told Kurt he was being teased. Yet thinking back now, it did almost seem like a past life. After high school things had, as Dan Savage had promised, gotten better. They also got a lot more complicated. Over the past eight years few things had remained constant in Kurt's life. There was his dad, Carol, Rachel, and Blaine. Even when they'd split up, there had always been Blaine. And in another year, if they were lucky, their strange little family would have a new addition.

Kurt reached over and took his husband's hand. "Tell me, Mr. Liberal Arts, did Socrates say that in our future lives we'd wind up in the same place, with the same person, looking at the very same statue?"

"No, but Nietzsche said that we should live our lives as if we would have to live them over and over again, exactly the same way. That there's no heaven or hell, just life, so we should live it to the fullest."

"Carpe Diem! Seize the day, boys," said Kurt, quoting Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society. "Make your lives extraordinary."

"Basically."

Somewhere nearby a bird began to sing. Kurt wondered if it was a type of bird that also lived in America, or if it was an English bird he was hearing for the first time. Maybe it was a kind of warbler, like on the Dalton family crest.

"Would you do it all over again?" Blaine asked suddenly. "If everything was going to be the same?"

"Well, I'd rather not make all the same mistakes twice," said Kurt. "That's why I don't believe in reincarnation. Everything would be a lot easier if we all actually had thousands of years of experience."

"But if it was either relive this same life, the good parts and the bad parts, or have one where things were totally different, what would you choose?"

"This one, of course," said Kurt. "The one where we wind up here, together, just like this."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand. "So would I," he said. "Over and over again."