The Source of Our Power: Chapter 16

It was over two hours of Kurt's directions shouted into his ear before Blaine pulled the bike over at a long-untended rest stop and cut the engine, the absolute silence around them almost oppressive.

"I've just got to..." Blaine muttered, climbing off the bike and stretching his stiffened limbs.

"You're not going in there,are you?" Kurt asked, horrified, eying the ramshackle restroom that may or may not have still had running water.

Blaine gave a short laugh and shook his head. "No, I'll just – over there is fine."

Kurt decided that he may as well relieve himself too, and after both men found discreet corners to do their business, they met back up at the bike. Blaine smirked fondly when Kurt handed him an antibacterial wipe.

"So," Blaine said, leaning against the bike and cleaning his hands off with the wipe, "Where exactly are we going?"

"I can't tell you until we get there," Kurt answered. He reached into his satchel and pulled out two apples and two granola bars, handing one of each to Blaine. "No, I mean I physically can't," he added at Blaine's raised eyebrow. "It's one of the magical protections around the...c...place. But it's the safest place I know by far."

Blaine nodded thoughtfully as he chewed a bite of apple.. "What about the other magical protections? Are you sure we'll be able to..."

"We'll be able to get in," Kurt cut in quickly. "It's attuned to my bloodline, and as long as you're, um, touching me you'll be able to get through as well." Kurt's cheeks went slightly pink as he spoke.

Blaine stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Kurt, what did Jesse say?"

Kurt coughed, almost choking on his granola bar. He had notbeen expecting that. "Um, what?"

"I want to know what Jesse said to you to make you run off like you did. It's been driving me crazy, actually."

Kurt's eyes shifted everywhere but Blaine's face. "Blaine, I don't really think that nowis the time to discuss this."

Blaine gave a sharp laugh and looked around pointedly. "Are you waiting for a better time? We've been banished from battle, we've got nothing buttime."

Kurt fiddled with the wrapper of his now-finished granola bar. "Why are you asking this now?" He asked softly.

Blaine sighed. "When you said – I just – all right, fine. Things have been weird since we kissed. And then you told me to go ahead and date, but then you seemed really upset when I did, and...please just tell me. What Jesse said – was it about me and Jeremiah?"

Kurt sighed and bit into his apple. Blaine threw his own apple core into the trees and started on his granola bar.

"Look, Blaine, I don't want – it's okay if you like him," Kurt said, not meeting Blaine's eyes. "It's probably for the best, actually."

Blaine stared at him. "Do you mean that?" He asked quietly. Kurt nodded. "I'm not – my feelings about this are complicated, but I'm not possessive, Blaine. If you two are happy together, I want that for you both."

After a few moments of silence, Kurt glanced up to see Blaine looking absolutely crestfallen.

"You look upset."

Blaine shrugged. "I guess I am."

Kurt sighed. "I'm trying to...I don't know what you want,here, Blaine."

You. All I want is you.

Blaine jammed his granola bar wrapper into his pocket. "I want something I can't have," he replied.

Kurt furrowed his brows. "I'm sure he'll survive,Blaine. He's...well, he isn't exactly the most powerful warlock around, but he isn't bad, and Lauren and my father will make sure-"

"Not Jeremiah."

Kurt swallowed. "I...what?"

"I don't want Jeremiah," Blaine answered softly, locking eyes with Kurt. Kurt inhaled sharply, looking away after a moment because Blaine's gaze was far too intense to bear.

"Neither do I," Kurt whispered after a heavy silence. Blaine felt his eyes go wide, but before he could respond, Kurt's tone changed entirely. "We should go," he said briskly, "before Sue realizes you're gone."

"Kurt–"

"I'm your Watcher,Blaine," Kurt said, putting far too much emphasis on the word. "It is my job to keep you safe and it is your job to follow orders."

Blaine stared at him for a moment. "Yes, sir," he finally said coolly, and reached for his helmet.

~000~

Burt had done his best to clear the neighborhood; most neighbors seemed to more or less believe that Burt was in the mafia or something equally intimidating, and no one liked being the one to foot the bill for a call to Lima's private police force. It worked well as a cover story – organized crime had absolutely flourished since the privatization of law enforcement – so Burt did nothing to discourage the rumors. When he began spreading the word that there might be some visitorsat his house that evening, and it might be safest if those living nearby found somewhere else to spend the night, most of them did. And those that stayed...well. It was their choice and there was nothing Burt could do about it.

No one was sure quite what to expect. The house was as secured as possible – both physically and magically – and everyone was gathered in the living room.

Waiting.

"Maybe...maybe no one's coming," Jeremiah ventured. Rachel sighed.

"I can't believe Kurt ever dated such an ignoramus," she muttered.

"An ignor-what?"

"Nothing, Finn. Never mind."

"They're definitely coming," Angel said. "And I'd be willing to bet they know we're waiting for them."

"Then what's taking them so long?" Puck growled.

"They're savoring their advantage.," Mercedes answered, pacing.

The group fell into speculation, the din of overlapping conversations filling the room. Puck and Finn were in favor of "taking the fight to them," while Mike argued in favor of maintaining "home court advantage." Lauren reassured Burt and Angel for the five hundredth time that the scrambler spell she had laid on Kurt and Blaine before they left should keep anyone from finding them before they reached their destination, and Spike shook his head solemnly when Shannon quietly asked if anyone had seen Brittany and Santana since they had disappeared earlier in the evening. Carole wove through the room, making sure that everyone knew where they were supposed to be if and when Tammy and company did show up as expected, and Burt once again tried in vain to convince her to wait in the reinforced safety of the attic until the battle was over.

"Wait," Spike said loudly all of a sudden, just as Angel bellowed for quiet. The room fell silent almost instantly.

The sound was minute, something that could almost be explained away as the wind, but the closer they listened, the louder it became, as if their attention itself magnified the volume of the words.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in," came the voice, a disturbingly childlike singsong that sent chills down the spines of everyone with a pulse.

"Little pig, little pig..." came the voice again.

"Dude, that is seriously fucking creepy," Finn whispered. Rachel clutched his hand.

"Now might be a good time to get into position," Burt said, his voice low.

There was a protracted silence during which everyone shuffled nervously, spreading themselves through the house in pairs while a core group remained in the living room to face whomever was attached to the voice. Burt, Lauren, Angel, Puck, Rachel and Mercedes moved into a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the room, facing outward on all sides.

The silence finally ended with laughter. Laughter that was so childlike and pure, and edged with such malice, that it was nothing short of terrifying.

"Very well, then," the voice said, growing deeper and louder this time, seeming to fill the entire room. "I suppose I'll have to huff and puff..."

Despite the fact that nearly everyone in the house was a trained fighter, many with supernatural abilities, there were very few who did not scream when every single window in the house exploded into shards all at once, the front door flying clear off its hinges and smashing into splinters against the staircase.

"...and blow your house in," Tammy finished with a broad smile, walking through the doorway and brushing debris off the sleeve of her pale pink blazer.

~000~

Two hours after leaving the rest stop, Blaine was getting antsy. He was just about to suggest that they stop again when he felt the first raindrop land on his hand.

"How much longer?" he yelled to Kurt, wondering if they should pull over and seek shelter or just push through.

"Less than an hour," Kurt yelled back.

Blaine pondered their options as the rain began to fall in earnest. The road was uneven and winding, and the bike's headlight was the only point of light in the darkness around them. Adding reduced visibility and slick roads to the mix was not the safest of options.

But...your body was born to ride this,Kurt's voice echoed in Blaine's mind. And it was true. Even though Blaine knew intellectually that the conditions had made driving more difficult, his body seemed to know exactly what to do, and he truly didn't feel even the tiniest inkling of fear. If anything, the prospect of riding in a rainstorm struck him as an exciting challenge.

But Kurt, on the other hand, may find the idea less than thrilling.

"You want to pull over and wait out the storm, or push through?" he yelled, leaning back into the warmth of Kurt's body behind him.

"You OK to drive in this?" Kurt yelled back, and Blaine couldn't help but smile. "Hell, yeah!" he responded, and gunned it, smiling even broader at the way the increased speed made Kurt's grip tighten around him.

~000~

"Where is he?" Tammy asked, studying her nails. Behind her, on the front porch and in the yard, were several dozen vampires and demons, including Quinn and Tina. Sue was pacing with agitation and yelling at Jesse to stop being so incompetent and just smashthe damn magical barrier that none but Tammy were able to cross.

No one in the living room moved a muscle.

Puck looked around him incredulously. "What the hell are we doing? She's right there!"

Rachel's eyes went wide. "Puck, no!" She hissed, but it was far too late.

As he lunged toward Tammy, she made a flicking motion, as if disposing of a piece of lint, and Puck promptly fell to the floor, gasping and clawing at his throat.

Rachel ran to him, staring up at Tammy in horror as Puck's face started to turn blue.

"You just made a very big mistake," Rachel said, her voice wavering as she walked closer.

"Did I?" Tammy sounded amused. "I prefer to think of it as God's work. Werewolves are an aberration, you know." She made a face. "I can smell canine blood in every corner of this house, and it's disgusting."

"And demons aren't aberrations?" Came a voice to Rachel's right. Lauren broke off from the circle and strode around to face Tammy, looking utterly unconcerned by the woman's display. Lauren looked at Puck for no more than two seconds, her eyes flickering yellow, and he took a sudden, sharp inhalation of breath, coughing violently. His hands fell limply to the floor beside him as he gasped for air.

"Demons serve their purpose," Tammy replied, advancing on Lauren. Rachel knelt to help Puck, knowing that she was not needed in this confrontation. This was between Lauren and Tammy now.

"Earthly demons may be human hybrids, but they are not animal hybrids," Tammy clarified. "That sort of blasphemy is the work of the pagan gods of old." Both women continued walking toward each other until their noses were almost touching. "Demons deign to wander into this little world to purge it of such ancient evils, and all the ways in which evil has infected the world of the living. That includes the creation of werewolves." Her smile grew unpleasantly wide. "And, of course, Vampire Slayers."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Lauren asked, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness. "I couldn't hear you over all the bullshit that seems to have built up in my ears." She gave a smile to match Tammy's. No one made a sound.. The living room and foyer had become a vacuum of tension.

"So here's how this is going to work," Lauren continued, her voice both soft and needle-sharp. "He isn't here. He's somewhere safe and you're not going to find him. It's over. So let's just avoid some big scuffle that we both know is going to result in nothing more than an unpleasantly dusty yard, and settle this witch to witch."

"How quaint that you think this is over,"Tammy said sweetly. "But don't worry about me – I'll find the boy. There are excellent ways to track someone down without the use of spellwork, you know. And the rest of you – well. I honestly can't even tell you how much I want to kill every single one of you. I can smell the sin crawling all over you."

"That's actually lotus oil with just a touch of citrus and cinnamon. It's sort of my signature scent. But I can understand the mistake – it does smell sinful, doesn't it?" Lauren asked with a lascivious grin.

Tammy made a noise that could only be properly described as a hiss, and raised her arms, bright green threads of energy crackling between her palms. Lauren's own gaze went steely, and her hands began glowing with silver light.

"And once again," Tammy said, her voice lowering and her eyes growing dark with rage. "I am not a witch."

~000~

"Blaine, what – what are those?"

"Um...birds? Large...oddly shaped birds? Large, oddly shaped, incredibly fastbirds?"

"Those are not birds."

Blaine sighed. "Maybe if we just pretend they're birds, they will be?"

"So that's your plan? Denial?"

"My plan is to try not to crash the motorcycle while my brilliant and insightful Watcher tells me what our plan actually is. God, they're really fast. If I didn't know better, I would say those were flying monkeys."

Kurt sighed. "And if you did know better, if you had, for instance, actually paid attention when we covered this in our study session, you would know that that is precisely what they are. Well, simevolan demons to be precise, but close enough."

"So they're flying monkey demons? Why didn't I learn about them in school?"

"They're rare in this dimension. They have to be summoned. They're excellent trackers, though – their ability to scent prey is about forty times greater than that of a beagle. And their talons are so sharp they can slice through bone like it's made of soft butter."

"Fuck."

"I...would recommend going as fast as possible, Blaine."

Blaine swallowed, evaluating the pelting rain that was soaking them through, the glistening wet and uneven pavement that unraveled before them, and the rapidly advancing figures in the sky.

"Hold on tight," he advised, and revvd the engine hard, the bike shooting like a bullet through the night.

"We're nearly there," Kurt breathed in his ear. "If you...if you can keep us from crashing or getting caught, we'll make it. Take that right just up ahead. It's easy to miss; see that yellow sign?"

Blaine made the turn, his heart surging with a spike of panic when the bike skidded a bit, but before he could properly worry, they were solid again, barreling down an incredibly dark and narrow road through a thickly wooded area.

A strange, repetitive sound came into focus, and for a moment Blaine thought it was the sound of heavy rain on leaves. And then it grew louder, and then louder still. It was definitely not the sound of rain on leaves.

It was the sound of rain on leathery, fiercely beating wings.

Kurt gripped Blaine so tightly he almost gasped as one of the creatures grew uncomfortably close, letting out a goosebumps-inducing shriek into the night.

Blaine leaned forward, squinted in concentration as if it could somehow make them go faster. The sound of wings grew louder and louder, and when Blaine glanced over his shoulder, he immediately wished that he hadn't. There was a veritable cloud of simevolan demons in their wake, the closest among them already starting to reach for the bike. Blaine was suddenly hit with the ice-cold realization that they would reach Kurt first, and there would be nothing Blaine could do about it. Blaine suddenly wished Kurt could be seated in front of him instead, cradled safely in his arms while Blaine drove them to safety.

"Left up here," came Kurt's voice again, breathless and tightly controlled. Blaine veered off the road at the indicated turn, and they found themselves on a bumpy dirt road. Blaine swore under his breath, trying desperately to make up for the speed they had lost in making the turn and navigating the rough rock-strewn path.

Blaine started when he felt movement at his stomach, and realized Kurt was working his shirt out of his belt, and burrowing his hands underneath.

"K-Kurt?"

"We're nearly there. I have to be touching you. Not your shirt, you. Skin to skin. Otherwise you won't get through."

"O-oh," Blaine choked out, surprised to find he could still feel such acute embarrassment, even in a situation like this one.

Kurt clutched him tightly, cold palms trailing up Blaine's warm skin until they came to rest firmly against his ribcage.

The wet flap of wings grew so close Blaine was afraid the demons were truly upon them, but Kurt's hands were still there. As long as Kurt's hands -

Kurt gasped suddenly, his hands going tight against Blaine's torso as if he were being pulled backward.

"Blaine, drive!" He screamed, more than a hint of hysteria in his voice as his hands scrambled for purchase, and fuck. Kurt definitely was being pulled backward.

Blaine chanced taking his left hand off the handle, and glanced over his shoulder, his body thankfully moving before his shock could set in. Because there was one of the demons. It wasn't slicing into Kurt – the talons Kurt had spoken of didn't even appear to be bared. Instead the creature had its small, shriveled hands wrapped around Kurt's sides and was pulling him backward, some hideous parody of a smile spread across its distorted face. The creature did look a lot like a monkey, except for its white-gray-twisted-pustule-covered-red-eyed-long-fanged face. It was the sort of face that inspired one to wake up screaming in the night. Blaine kept his bicep rigid and let his forearm snap back, his fist landing a solid blow to the creature's forehead. He tried not to shudder at the way the slimy, cold flesh felt against his knuckles.

The creature shrieked and seemed to lose its hold on Kurt, and Kurt took the opportunity to clutch Blaine as hard as he could. His fingernails were digging in almost hard enough to draw blood, but Blaine honestly didn't care. Not as long as Kurt was still there.

Blaine crouched a bit, his muscles screaming-stiff, his breath caught in his throat. There was an odd shimmer to the air in front of him, and Blaine knew, without asking, that this was their destination. Only a few hundred feet to go-

Kurt screamed, and his hands almost slid free of Blaine completely. Panicked, Blaine let go of both handlebars and pulled Kurt's arms back, aware of nothing but his need to protect Kurt, to keep him safe. The demon seemed to have an even better grip on Kurt this time, and just as Blaine thought they were finally there, finally about to cross into where they would be safe, the demon gave Kurt a sniff and then let go, lunging for Blaine instead.

Blaine was wrenched upward, all physical contact lost for one terrifying moment. Kurt let out a shriek and wrapped his arms as tightly as possible around Blaine's waist as the surprisingly strong little demon attempted to pull him off the bike and into the air. Blaine was mostly airborne, only anchored by Kurt's arms, and he couldn't seem to twist into a position that would let him pry the demon's hands loose. The bike was slowing down and wildly out of control, but the power lever was on the handlebar, and if Kurt loosened his grip on Blaine even slightly, Blaine would be gone. They did still have a fair bit of momentum going, however, and just as Blaine felt sure that he was going to slip completely out of Kurt's grasp, a ripple of tingling warmth washed through his body. The bike hit a patch of mud and skidded out of control entirely, throwing both Kurt and Blaine several feet through the air.

Blaine landed with a loud grunt, the wind knocked out of him, and he cried out in pain when the bike fell half on top of him. The engine was still running, the bike vibrating on its side and spraying mud everywhere, and a deafening screech pierced the night, loud and piercing enough to make Blaine wince and momentarily forget all physical discomfort outside of his ears.

He looked up, dazed, to see the road just twenty feet behind them littered with writhing balls of flame. A simevolan demon came hurtling toward them, scarlet eyes blazing and dark brown fangs dripping with thick saliva, and Blaine barely had time to tense before it too suddenly burst into flame, screaming as the invisible wall it had run into shimmered slightly before settling back into invisibility.

They lay there, watching demon after demon burst into flame, casting light across the forest and the dim shape of a cabin off to their left. The fire seemed untouched by the driving rain. The last conscious thought Blaine had was that it was strange that the fire was dimming so rapidly while still seeming to burn so bright.

And then he didn't think anything at all.

~000~

Lauren's magic twisted against Tammy's, the two women sweating with the exertion of keeping up the stalemate, of refusing to be the one to step down. While they remained occupied, the others in the living room and some of the others throughout the house took to the yard, armed with stakes and battle axes, cross-bows and wood-tipped daggers. If they didn't leave the safety of the house it would only be destroyed when the barrier protecting it inevitably faltered - that much was clear - and that simply couldn't happen.

Not because of what the house meant to everyone who stood ready to defend it, though that certainly mattered too, but because they had found something. In the attic, hidden by an even thicker layer of magic than the rest of the house, Artie and Jeremiah slowly translated the text Lauren had found. It was a very difficult process, but if they could translate it properly, without misinterpreting a single step or ingredient, they had a shot.

A shot to tip the balance. To ensure that the Slayer line could never truly be threatened again. The process would have been much easier with Lauren – or even Burt – present, but Lauren and Burt had other roles to fill. They were warriors, and Artie and Jeremiah were not. Lauren and Burt's jobs were to keep as many of the good guys alive as possible. Artie and Jeremiah's job was to translate. From a demon language. A dead demon language. A dead demon language that hadn't been spoken on any know world in thousands upon thousands of years.

"I don't care what anyone else says," Artie told Jeremiah beneath the lamplight. "The smart guys always save the day in the end."

Jeremiah just smiled at him.

In the yard below, Finn, Puck and Mike fell to their knees, transforming into wolf form with practiced ease, and focusing on their prey (and no, the warm ones with the tender hearts were notprey, no matter how good the wolves knew their virtue would taste on their tongues).

Slayers staked and beheaded anything they could find without a pulse, demons writhed under Burt's magic, and Carole aimed a hose connected to a tank of holy water at those vampires stupid enough to think her weak. Angel and Spike moved through the crowd like cats, helping when necessary, killing when possible.

The battle hadn't even been raging for thirty minutes, and already the yard was covered in dust and blood.

~000~

[A/N: Please read the author's note when you finish the chapter! There is a video to watch that creates important context and background for the following scene.]

As awareness seeped into the crevices of Blaine's mind, it started with the most basic things: warmth. Comfort. Dry feet and damp curls. The sounds of crackling and the smell of woodsmoke. The sound of whisper-soft sobbing beside him.

Blaine opened his eyes slowly, taking a moment to remember where he was and what was going on. Nothing seemed to match up and make sense, but he could tell that he had been hurt and that his body had already healed quite a bit. Being a Slayer could come in extremely handy sometimes.

He was lying on what appeared to be a fold-out futon with a pleasingly thick mattress. He smelled cedar in the blanket that covered him and he closed his eyes again and breathed deep, wondering why it reminded him so much of Kurt.

Kurt.

Kurt.

Blaine sat up quickly and looked around, remembering his last sight of Kurt, landing in a heap several feet away from him while the monkey demons burned. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that Kurt was beside him, but frowned when he made the connection between Kurt's presence and the soft sobs he had woken up to.

Kurt was still in his wet clothes, his hair dripping and sticking up in every direction, covered in mud. He had his knees drawn to his chest and he was crying quietly while he shivered.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked tentatively.

Kurt lifted his head and stared at him. "Blaine." His voice was hoarse and barely a whisper.

"You're shaking like a leaf," Blaine said, rubbing Kurt's arms. They felt like ice.

"I'm...um...cold," Kurt managed weakly.

"Why aren't you – wait, you put me in dry clothes, but-"

"I didn't look," Kurt said quickly. "Or, well, as little as possible. But I had to..." he trailed off, looking miserable.

Blaine touched his arm again. "Kurt, it's fine. I don't...I don't care about that, I just don't want you catching pneumonia or something. Let me get you something. Do you...are there more clothes and blankets, and...?"

Kurt looked almost confused for a moment. "Yeah. Yes. There's a cedar closet, let me just..."

"Kurt," Blaine said gently. "Just point me in the right direction. While I go do that why don't you warm up in front of the fire?"

"No – you're hurt, Blaine, I'm fine, I-"

"I'm actually kind of OK, Kurt. I think I'm doing better than you at the moment, so...just...let me?" Blaine tilted his head hopefully.

Kurt gave him a weak smile and gestured to a door in the corner of the room. "Over there. It's the closet in that bedroom that doesn't have a sliding door. It – I should probably-

"Sit,"Blaine said firmly. Kurt gave him what was far too weak to truly be a haughty look, but it warmed Blaine's heart nonetheless.

The main room of the cabin (and it was clearly a cabin) was simple and pleasant, most of the furnishings of sanded but unvarnished wood, the general color scheme burgundy and navy blue and hunter green. Blaine surmised from the photographs on the walls that this was some sort of vacation home that Kurt and Burt had been visiting since Kurt was very small. There were even photographs of Kurt with a woman who had to be his mother. Blaine smiled when he saw them, and would have stopped to look closer if Kurt hadn't been shivering and crying by the fire.

There were things Blaine was sure Burt insisted on keeping much to Kurt's chagrin – like the mallard-shaped lamp and the brightly painted piece of driftwood with "Gone Fishin"!" Written prominently in violent orange across it. For the most part, though, the cabin was simple and rustic and clean and smelled amazing. Blaine went into the bedroom Kurt had specified, refusing to let himself pause to drink it in even though this was clearly Kurt's room – yellowed clippings of vintage fashions were neatly pinned to the wall near the bed, and a few scarves were strategically draped over otherwise bland pieces of furniture.

In the cedar closet (which smelled so heavenly Blaine kind of wanted to live there), he found blankets and towels and thick socks and sweat pants and a flannel shirt – much like the one he himself was wearing – for Kurt. He did the best he could to pick things that sort of matched, and then quickly made his way back to the main room.

Kurt hadn't moved.

"Here," Blaine said. As you know, it's not exactly couture, but it is warm and dry."

"Thank you," Kurt said softly. Blaine furrowed his brow. He stared at Kurt for a moment, trying to figure out how to read his behavior, when he realized Kurt was picking at the clothes nervously.

"Oh. Um...just...sorry. I'll just...turn around. Yeah." Blaine turned his back to Kurt, trying not to think about how close and near and naked Kurt was. Trying not to think about how much he wanted to hold him and never let him go.

At a sharp hiss behind him, Blaine nearly turned around, but stopped himself at the last minute.

"What is it?" He asked instead.

"It's nothing," Kurt murmured. "Just a...a cut or something..."

"Can I...let me see?"

Kurt didn't answer for a long moment, and just when Blaine was about to ask again, he heard a whisper:

"OK."

Kurt had put the sweatpants on, but he was naked from the waist up, clutching the plaid shirt to his chest to create a semblance of modesty. On his shoulder was a long red gash.

Blaine sat down beside Kurt and touched the tips of his fingers to the unblemished skin surrounding the cut.

"I think it's all right," Blaine said carefully, examining the wound as gently as he could. "Just a surface scratch. Do you...want me to get something to put on it?"

Kurt shook his head and closed his eyes, and to Blaine's surprise, leaned back into him, nestling his damp head into Blaine's warm neck. Blaine shivered – not at all unpleasantly – from the contact. Without thinking of anything other than making Kurt warm, he wrapped his arms around him. And when he realized what he'd done a split second later, he didn't pull away. Because Kurt hadn't gone stiff in his arms as Blaine might have expected. Instead he seemed to all but meltinto him.

"You...you almost went away tonight," Kurt said, his voice small and raw. Blaine's heart surged in a way that nearly choked him, and he pulled Kurt closer.

"We both did," Blaine whispered in response, his chest tightening at the memory of Kurt getting pulled away from him, his wet hands losing their grip no matter how hard he tried to hold on.

"Blaine, I feel like if I lost you..." Kurt's breath hitched on a sob. "I know I haven't...I should have...I just...I'm so scared..."

Kurt trailed off with a hard, shaking breath.

Blaine felt the knot in his chest pressing at his rib cage, screaming for release. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't manage it. Kurt looked up at him, eyes so huge and blue and tender and tough. The knot clawed its way to the surface.

"I..." Blaine started, and then stopped because he couldn't face Kurt's rejection again. Not now.

Kurt turned to face him properly, pinning Blaine in place with those eyes.

"You what?" Kurt asked, staring right down to Blaine's core.

"I love you," Blaine said. He allowed himself to float on the simple, unadorned truth of it, the blissful freedom in finally saying the one true thing that he knew.

Kurt's eyes grew impossibly wide, and his gasp was audible. He looked like he had been told that the world had finally and completely been purged of evil, and it was so pure and beautiful and terrifying to behold that Blaine couldn't stop his own tears. By the time he was able to speak again, he was already crying in earnest.

"I know...I know I'm not supposed to," he admitted softly, "but I can't stop."

Kurt brought a now-warm hand to Blaine's face, rested it so gently against his cheek that it almost broke Blaine's heart. "Me...me too," Kurt whispered. "I can't stop either. I just didn't think you..."

"I do."

Kurt barely had to move at all to kiss Blaine. Their faces were so close already, their warmth a shared commodity. He pressed his hand gently against Blaine's cheek, and Blaine allowed Kurt to tilt his head, their lips touching so softly they could barely feel it, while simultaneously feeling it more vividly than anything either of them could remember. Kurt moved his head back slightly, his eyes searching Blaine's face before moving in again, and Blaine's hand moved to cup Kurt's cheek, mirroring Kurt's hand on his. The fingers of their free hands laced together as if it were the most natural thing to do in the world.

Because it was.

Their kisses were soft and small, too full of feeling to truly be chaste, too natural to be tentative. Their lips were dry and warm and soft against one another, and though neither man was a virgin, neither man had ever felt this close to another person before.

Kurt's hand slid to the back of Blaine's head, working its way into his still-damp curls as he deepened their kisses, and Blaine followed Kurt's lead. Followed him because there was still one tiny part of himself that was unsure about this, that was waiting for Kurt to tell him it was a mistake.

Blaine pulled back far enough to look Kurt in the eye, searching for signs of hesitation. " Kurt," he said quietly, "are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"Don't." Kurt's voice was almost shocking in its ferocity, a ferocity that was only punctuated when he whispered, desperate and sure, "just kiss me."

And who was Blaine to disobey his Watcher? He was far too disciplined for that.

They sank down onto the mattress, their kisses growing bolder and spilling over with yearning. As Blaine ran his hand down Kurt's side, he realized that Kurt had dropped the shirt he'd been holding against his chest somewhere along the way, and his bare skin was even smoother and softer than Blaine had imagined.

"Is this...okay?" Blaine whispered, slowly sliding his hand to Kurt's chest.

"Yes," Kurt gasped. "God, Blaine, I want you, I want you so much..."

Kurt couldn't hide his shiver as Blaine pulled back enough to look at him properly, the cool air raising goosebumps on his perfect skin. Blaine smiled and wrapped a blanket around Kurt's shoulders.

"Hold on just a minute, okay?" Blaine asked, kissing Kurt softly and then getting up from the futon. He gathered the other blankets he had brought from the cedar chest, laying them in front of the fire, as close to it as reasonably possible. He knelt on the blankets and reached for Kurt. Kurt took his hand and gracefully climbed down beside him.

It was so warm this close to the fire, and the heat seemed to make everything more precious and intimate.

Kurt lay back on the nest of blankets, the firelight playing across his flawless skin. His eyes were dark and hazy, and his smile nearly made Blaine's heart stop.

"Kurt, can I...can I see you?" Blaine asked nervously. "It's fine if you don't want to, and I might be going too fast here, and I won't be comfortable unless you're comfortable, so I really don't want you feeling pressured at all to-"

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

Kurt smirked. "Shut up."

Blaine bit his lip and smiled.

Kurt sat up just enough to kiss Blaine before settling back onto his back. "I want to see you too," he said, his fingers trailing under the hem of Blaine's shirt and ghosting along the soft, lightly furred skin of his stomach. Blaine felt his muscles twitch in response to the touch.

They undressed one another slowly, savoring each newly revealed expanse of skin, each nearly speechless at the beauty of the other.

Kurt's body was far more incredible naked than it was in even his tightest spandex training clothes. He was long, lean, and perfectly sculpted. So perfectly sculpted, in fact, that it looked as if he were carved from marble, and with every touch Blaine was freshly amazed that Kurt was actually warm and alive and real. His cock was thick and rose-colored, and Blaine couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he'd never realized a penis could be so pretty before.

He couldn't help but worry that his body couldn't possibly measure up. But Kurt's eyes as more and more of Blaine's skin came into view told such an intensely different story that he found himself believing it. Believing that Kurt found him beautiful. Believing that Kurt might just want him every bit as much as Blaine wanted Kurt. Believing Kurt when he stared at Blaine and said, "You take my breath away."

They lay on their sides, noses nuzzled together, smiles absurd but neither of them terribly concerned. They lay like that, close and warm, hands lazily exploring one another while they kissed, interspersed with small gasps and moans. They were both hard, but beyond lightly rubbing together and caressing the shape of one another with their fingers, they didn't seek release. Not yet. Not when they finally had this.They didn't want even their own lust to destroy the delicate intimacy they were creating.

"Blaine," Kurt finally whispered, "I want everything. With you."

"Yes," Blaine whispered back, pressing his lips gently against Kurt's for one sweet moment.

"I...I haven't...it's been a long time."

"It's been a long time for me too."

"I'm nervous."

"I'm terrified."

Kurt laughed softly, rubbing his nose against Blaine's and stroking his hip. "We can just do this if you like. This is nice."

"This is perfect," Blaine agreed. "But I've always thought the best way to deal with fear was to confront it head-on."

Kurt laughed, louder this time. "Spoken like a true Vampire Slayer." He kissed Blaine, and then shifted, rolling Blaine onto his back and hovering above him.

Blaine smiled up at him, gasping softly when Kurt's mouth latched onto his throat. "W-what are you doing?" He asked, as Kurt began kissing his way down Blaine's body.

The smile he got in response was nothing short of sinful. "Confronting our fears head-on, Blaine, what did you think?" he asked, and continued on his path.

~000~

"I can't believe you convinced me to go back there," Santana grumbled.

"They need us," Brittany said, pulling a still reluctant Santana behind her.

"They need you, maybe. They made their thoughts on my presence perfectly clear."

Brittany sighed. "They're not going to see how much they need you unless you're there,San. Just-"

Brittany stopped cold, and before Santana could open her mouth to say what was wrong, she found herself grasping at thin air, as Brittany's hand was wrenched from hers. Brittany fell to the ground hard like a stone, her eyes going wide, her entire body twitching. Santana was worried before the string of gibberish began – or the stream of some language Santana couldn't possibly decipher anyway – but the worry grew into actual fear when the words began spilling out. It didn't look like a possession, but that didn't give Santana any real comfort, especially when she began hearing one word that she did recognize peppered through Brittany's mutterings.

"Angelus. Angelus. Angelus."

Santana picked up the still-writhing girl and ran toward those who had so recently rejected everything she had to offer. Because they were also the only people she knew that could help her.

~000~

Blaine gasped and writhed beneath Kurt, and it was delicious. Blainewas delicious.

Kurt couldn't believe he had denied himself this pleasure for so long, had denied himself this trust, this love. Some part of him had known from the moment he met Blaine that this was the natural state of things between them, but he had fought against it so hard.

Surrender had never, ever tasted quite this sweet.

Blaine was beautiful, all golden skin and dark hair, molten eyes and sweet red lips. His cock was gorgeous; flushed a deep reddish pink and jutting from a nest of neat dark curls, just waiting to be tasted. It was also perfectly-sized in Kurt's opinion, and he had very discerning taste.

Kurt gave the head a firm lick, causing to Blaine emit a sharp cry, and Blaine tasted briny and sweet and familiar but unique. He tasted like sex. He tasted like Blaine.

Kurt groaned, his nipples and cock hardening even more, before he sunk his mouth down and drowned in the pretty sounds Blaine made.

Kurt used one hand to extend his reach – he was far too out of practice for deep-throating to a be a viable option – and lay the other firmly across Blaine's hips.

He began moving his lips and fist up and down Blaine's length slowly, grip loose, while he drew lazy patterns lightly with his tongue.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine whimpered through gritted teeth. Kurt smiled around Blaine's cock and then tightened his grip on Blaine, clamping his lips and sucking hard as he dragged up, still just as slow.

"Oh, god!" Blaine screamed, bucking his hips up hard.

Kurt nearly choked on Blaine's cock before he was flung backward, landing sprawled on his back and gasping for air, his throat screaming with pain. He was too dazed to properly register what had happened at first, until it became so obvious he couldn't believe his own idiocy.

He had laid a single arm across the hips of a Vampire Slayer, thinking it would be enough to hold him in place.

In all fairness, this particular scenario had never been addressed in his Watcher training, but still. Blaine wasn't just a beautiful soul in a gorgeous body. Blaine was quite possibly the strongest mortal man on earth. And in the heat of passion, Kurt seemed to have forgotten that fact entirely.

As Kurt's coughs began to subside, he became aware of Blaine kneeling beside him, babbling apologies. He must have gone to get Kurt a glass of water at some point, because he was holding the glass out to Kurt and asking if the tap water was okay, and holy shit, Kurt, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I did that, I swear I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.

Kurt held his hand out, nodding his head and waving his hand and finding himself entirely unsuccessful in his attempt to convey his meaning to Blaine without words. Kurt took a deep breath and a long drink of water, and then gently placed a hand on Blaine's knee.

"Blaine."

Blaine winced at the hoarseness in Kurt's voice, but closed his mouth and gave Kurt his full attention.

"It's okay. I should have thought of that. It isn't anyone's fault, and I'm all right. Really."

"I didn't mean to," Blaine blurted. "It's just been so long and it felt so good, and I know that's no excuse, god, I-"

"Blaine."

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

Kurt drew himself up onto his knees and leaned in swiftly to kiss Blaine's lips. Blaine's eyes opened in surprise.

"Blaine, you didn't ruin anything. In fact," Kurt mused, smile widening and eyes growing dark, "you just gave me a fantastic idea."

~000~

Sweat was rolling down the two womens' faces, the apparent stalemate in their powers beginning to falter.

Lauren was losing. That much was obvious.

Tammy's smile reappeared, vicious and sadistic, and yes – it absolutely did reach her eyes.

"This has been fun, but now I'm bored," she said, failing to suppress the strain in her voice as she drew her hands back.

Lauren attempted a defense, but the green energy that shot forth from Tammy's palms cut through Lauren's own magical defense like a knife. Lauren's eyes went wide and her scream ran through the house as she fell, collapsing into a heap on the ground, completely still.

The magical barrier that had surrounded the house shattered like glass, those demons that were able to enter roaring in triumph as they began streaming inside.

~000~

Kurt and Jeremiah had tried this a handful of times and could never keep it going for more than a few minutes, but this position was actually the most glorious position in the world, Kurt decided, if the man fucking you happened to be a Vampire Slayer.

Blaine held him up like he weighed absolutely nothing at all, and Kurt was not even going to pretend that wasn't hot. He held the backs of Kurt's thighs spread wide while he fucked into him fast, his cock pressing into Kurt's prostate over and over and over again with each hard slide into his body, and Kurt could only writhe and scream, hands clawing desperately against the smooth stone wall behind him. Blaine kissed him deep while he fucked him, his body in complete control, and Kurt felt like he was in a pleasure-induced trance.

Blaine was warm against him, groaning into Kurt's mouth that Kurt was so hot and so tight and so gorgeous and "Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." It was primal and intimate and when the pleasure grew too thick for even kissing, they panted into one another's mouths and groaned.
Blaine lifted Kurt's thighs a bit higher, tilting his ass up a bit more, and spread Kurt's legs even wider. As he plunged deep into Kurt's body, Blaine managed a breathless chuckle into his mouth, and a single word: "Flexible."

Kurt went cross-eyed at the intense shock of pleasure that this new angle sent thumping through his body. Blaine's arms were steady and firm."Strong," he managed to reply shakily, and then groaned as he allowed Blaine to spread his thighs just a little bit more.

It was insanely fucking good, better than the best sex Kurt had ever imagined, and Kurt was stunned that he hadn't come already, with or without the assistance of his hand.

"Blaine," he moaned, his hands flying from the wall to Blaine's shoulders, sliding to his back and wrapping around Blaine's shoulder blades, squeezing tight and holding on, his eyes locked on Blaine's as if by some physical force. He wanted to say more, to whisper sweet and filthy things and tell Blaine how much he loved him, but all that came out was moan after moan after moan.

There had been a little metal box containing condoms and lube hidden under a floorboard in Kurt's bedroom at the cabin. He hadn't brought Jeremiah here – bringing an outsider to this ancestral retreat was an enormously significant act, and they hadn't quite gotten there yet – but he had decided to prepare, so that he wouldn't have to think about practicalities when the time finally came.

That time never did come. Not with Jeremiah, anyway.

Blaine had been overwhelmed when Kurt told him what he wanted. Awe and arousal and fear and doubt played over his face when Kurt had asked for it, and he had had to run his own hands over the smooth polished stones of the wall surrounding the fireplace before he was satisfied that Kurt wouldn't get hurt.

They had started out gentle, of course, and slow – Blaine had stretched him like it was a sacred ritual, like he had never been trusted with something so important before in his life. It made Kurt feel treasured in a way he had never imagined possible.

And now, as Blaine gasped into his mouth and quickened his hips, Kurt knew. He just knew. It was Blaine. It had always been Blaine. He had just been waiting to find him.

Blaine made a strangled sound that was probably an attempt at Kurt's name, and Kurt could tell he was close, so close, and holding back for Kurt. Kurt groaned and leaned his head back, baring his throat and gasping with pleasure when Blaine took the unspoken invitation and pressed his hot, wet mouth to the tender skin, sucking desperately.

Kurt cried out as Blaine gave a particularly hard suck to his sensitive throat and a particularly hard thrust into Kurt's prostate at the exact same time. It was too much. His thighs burned and his skin buzzed and his cock strained and it was too fucking much, and all Kurt could do was gasp out the very beginning of Blaine's name before he was coming so hard he nearly blacked out, screaming as Blaine fucked him through it, hard and perfect.

It was seconds before Blaine came as well, thrusting into Kurt so hard he he probably would have hit the ceiling if Blaine's hands hadn't been holding him firmly in place, and Kurt jolted at the surprisingly pleasurable oversensitivity as Blaine plunged impossibly deeper into his body again and again until he was utterly spent.

They stayed there for what could have been moments or hours, Blaine still inside him, the crackling of the fire coming back into focus as they kissed softly.

"That was-" Blaine began, but Kurt had begun to speak as well.

"I love you," he sighed, eyelids heavy, smiling at Blaine when he pulled his face back far enough to look Kurt properly in the eye.

"You...you do," Blaine responded. It wasn't a question, but it was spoken with incredulity.

"Of course I do," Kurt murmured. "I already told you-"

"You didn't."

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows, trying to make sense of that through a thick blanket of satiety and afterglow.

"Well, you – you told me you felt the same way, but you didn't say it, and I..."

Blaine suddenly looked shy, and Kurt managed not to laugh at how absurd the expression was, given the fact that Blaine was still inside of him.

"I like hearing it," Blaine admitted quietly. Kurt smiled.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing Blaine's cheek. "I love you," he said again, kissing Blaine's nose.

"I love you," Blaine chimed in when Kurt said it a third time, before their lips met once again.

~000~

Artie looked up in shock from the scroll in front of him as a heavy object slammed against the attic door.

"How are you guys doing in there?" he heard Rachel call breathlessly, followed by some more banging and the distinctive sounds of breaking glass.

"I think we've got something, actually – can you get Lauren?"

There was a long silence. Too long. Artie didn't want to think about what it might mean.

"Or – Angel?" he added.

"I – I can try," came Rachel's reply, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.

"So...we've actually got something?" Jeremiah ventured.

"We can't get our hopes up, but this could be it. The only problem is that Blaine isn't here, so – Jerry?"

Artie paused at the look in Jeremiah's eyes. It wasn't the expression, because there was no actual expression to speak of. It was the fact that something was undeniably off in them. They seemed clouded and unnaturally bright. A sense of unease began to unfurl in Artie's stomach.

"Finish what you were saying," Jeremiah said, his voice cold and flat as he stood up.

Artie swallowed and carefully rolled up the scroll he had been working on, clutching it tightly as he watched Jeremiah circle the attic like a trapped cat.

"Jerry, I think-" but Jeremiah had located the golf clubs being stored with other sports equipment near where they sat. He lifted the driver from the set, examining it.

"What I think, Artie, is that you should give me that scroll," Jeremiah said evenly, striding toward Artie with the club raised to strike.

~000~

The fire had been reduced to glowing embers, but they were perfectly warm bundled in both the blankets and one another. Kurt and Blaine had chosen not to sleep in Kurt's cold and unmade bedroom, instead eating hot soup and sweet brown bread from cans in front of the fire and then crawling onto the futon together, too exhausted and satisfied to do anything but sleep.

When Blaine awoke, he was lying on his back, Kurt's head nestled against his chest, his arm wrapped firmly around Blaine's waist. Blaine's arms were around Kurt, the one underneath Kurt's body mostly asleep.

If things had been right, Blaine would have stared at Kurt's beautiful face, softened by sleep, until he once again drifted off. If things had been right, Blaine might have stroked Kurt's bare shoulder and maybe even shed a tear or two because this brave, strong, brilliant, gorgeous man was finally his.

But things weren't right. Things weren't right at all.

It felt like something was fighting to claw its way out from beneath Blaine's skin, like each breath was liquid fire bursting forth from his chest. As delicately as possible, Blaine disentangled himself from Kurt, too overwhelmed with the need to move, to get away from the feeling that he couldn't possibly keep still.

Kurt didn't stir.

~000~

Santana spotted Angel just as he hit the ground, a triumphant-looking grappler demon descending upon him. Tightening her grip on a still-thrashing Brittany, Santana ran toward him, almost stopping short when he saw that he was curled in a tight ball, as if defending against some sort of overwhelming pain.

Before the demon could get to Angel, Spike appeared behind it, driving a sword into its heart so hard the end of the blade emerged from the creature's chest.

"Oh, thank fuck," Santana muttered, reaching Spike on the edge of the yard as the slain demon slumped to the ground, barely taking notice of the battle raging around them.

"Spike," she gasped. "It's Britt. There's something wrong with-"

Angel let out a blood-curdling scream, and then began whimpering "no, no, no, please no..."

Brittany dislodged herself from Santana's arms, suddenly perfectly in control of her movements.

Her eyes were huge and black.

She knelt beside Angel and touched him, causing a shudder to course through his body before he rolled onto his back, gasping, and stared up at her. He clutched her arm tightly.

"Please don't let it happen," he whispered, and Santana went completely still at the unnerving look of fear and vulnerability on his face.

When Brittany answered him, it was in a strange, deep voice that wasn't her own.

"It is done," she said.

~000~

The air in the cabin was far too hot, and Blaine could only manage to pull his sweatpants on before he couldn't stand to be there another second. He stumbled toward the door, gasping for breath, wondering if this was it, if he was dying.

The cold air and colder rain against his bare chest only seemed to make the burning hotter, the itching and ripping beneath his skin more unbearable. He stumbled down the front steps to the cabin and fell to his knees in the mud. He was barely even aware of his own moans of pain, and all he knew, suddenly and completely, was that something was happening to him. Something was changing in him. And god, what if he turned into something – something that might hurt Kurt?

He leaned back, knees pressed into the mud and face contorted against the cold night sky.

"Kurt," he gasped, and then louder, as loud as he could, hoping – not even understanding what he could possibly be hoping, only that he didn't know what was happening and only one thing mattered in the entire world.

"KURT!" he screamed into the night.

Kurt didn't stir.