The Source of Our Power: Chapter 2

Dear Brittany,

Well, I'm back in Ohio. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

I haven't even unpacked yet. I wish phone and computer access wasn't restricted to the top students - I really want to see your face or even just hear your voice, Britt. I haven't even been gone overnight yet and I already miss you so much!

Oh, well. I suppose hand-written letters have their own sort of old-fashioned charm.

I don't think Kurt likes me. I'm honestly getting the impression that he regrets agreeing to take me on in the first place. If I weren't so desperate for a real slaying gig I would probably have refused his offer as soon as I saw how old he was, but that's probably why he chose me. He knew I was in no position to be picky.

Why the Council has allowed this man to become active is beyond me. Maybe he knows his demons. I doubt he's much use in the field. He looks like he weighs all of two pounds and I bet he might start crying or something if his hair got slightly mussed in a fight.

God, I'm really whining aren't I?

I'm sorry. Maybe I should tell you a bit about my assignment.

Well, we're in Lima, Ohio, which is uncomfortably close to where I grew up. Apparently there's been some pretty intense demonic activity here lately, and there's even speculation that another Hellmouth might be trying to open up somewhere around here. I'm the only Slayer in Lima, but they've stationed others in most of the surrounding towns because they want to keep the area covered. No one's telling me much yet, but the Council is definitely paying attention to northwestern Ohio right now.

I'm living with Kurt, in his family home. His father, stepmother and brother all live here too. I know it's a work-house; the whole family is involved in the Council and they have the means to board allies and host meetings and all, but the fact that we're living with Kurt's parents just seems to emphasize how young he is.

Kurt's father used to be a Watcher too. Now he's a mechanic, and it's not even a front. He really is a mechanic. I think there's a story there, but I get the sense that it isn't something I should bring up.

I don't know, Britt. I know I really shouldn't be complaining - at least I have a job, and you're stuck sanding down Ms. Sylvester's plantar warts. I really hope you get a Watcher soon too. And while I wouldn't wish Ohio on anyone, it definitely wouldn't suck if you ended up somewhere nearby.

I miss you.

I should probably go to bed now, though. Kurt's waking me up at five to start training tomorrow.

Love and kisses,

Blaine

xoxo

Kurt really wasn't sure what to expect from this boy.

He knew, from talking to faculty at the Sylvester School, that Blaine was bright and strong and had the makings of a fantastic Slayer. He also knew that many of them were still a bit uncomfortable with the boy realizing his potential, given that no one knew why he, an no other boy in the world, had been called. It was the sort of thing that smacked of some type of planned interference with the Slayer line, and things of that nature never seemed to end well.

But Kurt felt for the boy. He knew what it was to be judged and to feel different.

He also knew some things about Blaine that very few others in the world knew, and it was important that he keep it that way.

It was also important to make sure that Blaine got really good really fast. And despite the doubt in Blaine's eyes when he looked at Kurt, Kurt knew that he was just the man for the job. And perhaps it was possible that Blaine had hurt his pride a tiny bit.

And perhaps Kurt was going to have to make him eat his words.

Blaine had woken easily, inhaling the tangerine and mug of green tea that Kurt had laid out for him before his morning run. Kurt rode his bicycle alongside Blaine, impressed but not surprised at what excellent shape the boy seemed to be in.

After the run, they settled down to a proper breakfast while Kurt discussed the day's plans with Blaine.

"All right, so we'll do some exercises this morning to test your reflexes and reaction speed. After lunch we can delve into some of the more mental disciplines you'll need to get ahold on, and then maybe we'll go down to the tire shop. Do you know much about cars?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Uh, cars? I wasn't aware there was an automotive component to slaying."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You need a day job, Blaine. Or at least the appearance of one. Unless you'd prefer to just get "slayer" tattooed on your forehead."

"Uh, I think that might appear a little ostentatious. And no, I don't know much about cars. I mean, I know how to drive..."

Kurt sighed impatiently. "It's fine, I'll teach you. You only really need to learn a few basic things anyway. Plus, my dad has something for you at the shop, so we should definitely make time to go there today."

Kurt gave him a small, enigmatic smile. "I think it's something you'll like."

Blaine looked genuinely intrigued. "Really? What?"

Kurt smirked slightly. "Finish eating and change into something a bit more...um...form-fitting. I need to see how your muscles move." Kurt could feel himself blush. He didn't like it. He was a professional, and the fact that Blaine was an extremely attractive boy with slayer strength was certainly not something to blush over.

Kurt stood up, wiping his mouth delicately with a napkin before carrying his plate over to the sink. "Meet me in the training room in ten minutes," he ordered coolly, before heading downstairs to set things up for Blaine.

The training room was in the basement of the Hummel-Hudson house, and had been used for Slayer training since long before Kurt was born.

Kurt opened the weapons chest and began assembling the relevant weapons on a small table in the corner, near the basement door. Nothing fancy today; mostly Kurt just needed to see where Blaine's strengths were and what areas needed the most work. He laid out wooden stakes and nunchucks, and leaned a pair of bo staffs against the table. There was also a hay-stuffed model of a humanoid figure, a large kick bag hanging from very sturdy chains, and a pommel horse without handles already out. Kurt dragged a mat to the center of the room and surveyed the area with satisfaction.

After getting everything ready, Kurt ducked behind the shoji screens set up across the room from the door, and quickly changed into his own training gear. He heard Blaine coming down the stairs and called that he would be right out.

"You might want to avoid that," Kurt said evenly as he walked out from behind the screens and absolutely did not let his eyes linger on Blaine's obscenely tight black leggings and thin, fitted tank top. After all, Kurt was wearing something very similar, and it wasn't as if Blaine was leering at him.

Was he?

"Avoid what?" Blaine asked, a note of defensiveness already creeping into his voice as he quickly looked away from Kurt, his cheeks looking slightly pink.

"I could hear you clomping down the stairs, and my hearing is nowhere as good as a vampire's. Slaying isn't all about brute strength or even endurance, Blaine. There's a subtlety to it as well. You need to stay battle-ready at all times. You need to master the art of stealth."

Blaine actually rolled his eyes. Kurt clenched his fists at his side in frustration.

"I'm serious about this, Blaine. I know what I'm talking about."

Blaine sighed and looked at Kurt."Look, Kurt, I'm sure you've got a brilliant mind, and I know you've been in the fold longer than I have, but I'm a Slayer. And I've been at Slayer school for almost three years. You can probably just..." Blaine swept his hand out to gesture at the training space in front of him. "What I mean is...and I really mean no disrespect, but you can probably just let me practice, and when it comes to research and incantations and all that, I'm sure you'll be very helpful."

Blaine looked away, flinching against Kurt's searing glare.

"I just...I know what to do. My body knows what to do. I was built for this. You can't be more than a few months older than me, and I can't imagine that you've managed to learn more about actual fighting than-"

"You're wrong."

The words were said with such force that Blaine whipped his head around to look back at Kurt, stunned.

"You may have the innate talent to do this, and you may have been training with Sue Sylvester's ladies for the past three years, but you're wrong if you think I don't know more about fighting than you do. And you're wrong if you think I'm not good enough to be a Watcher because I'm too young. I suppose I thought you might have had enough experience with people making assumptions about you that you wouldn't do the same to me. But..." Kurt shrugged.

Blaine's eyes were swimming with guilt. "Kurt, I didn't..."

Kurt didn't answer him. He simply moved to the table and tossed him one of the bo staffs. Blaine caught it easily. Kurt took the other staff and walked over to the mat in the middle of the room. He gestured for Blaine to join him.

Kurt held the staff out in front of himself defensively. "All right," he said. "Come at me."

Blaine looked incredulous.

"Let's spar," Kurt insisted.

"Kurt, I don't-"

"Are you afraid?" Kurt asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

"I just don't want to hurt you."

"Blaine Anderson, I am your Watcher, and I am telling you to attack. If you can't follow my simple instructions, I'll send you back to the Sylvester School so fast you won't even-"

Blaine lunged forward. Kurt slipped out of his path like fast-moving liquid and ducked, kicking across Blaine's ankles and making him lose his footing. Blaine fell onto his back with a grunt, staring up at Kurt in surprise.

"Why, Blaine, thank you for not hurting little old me. You're such a gentleman," Kurt cooed, his voice dripping with venom.

Blaine jumped to his feet and surged forward again. Kurt continued to evade his attempts to disarm him; if Blaine could just manage to make contact, he would have Kurt pinned to the mat in seconds, no question about that. But Kurt was simply too quick for him. He anticipated Blaine's moves easily. When Blaine was finally on the verge of simply throwing his staff to the ground and hurling himself at Kurt bodily, Kurt caught his staff under Blaine's and pulled hard, his biceps straining, wrenching the staff out of Blaine's grip and sending it flying.

Blaine noticed that Kurt's lean arms were actually much more muscular than they had first appeared.

Before Blaine could completely process the fact that Kurt had actually disarmed him, Kurt thrust his own staff forward toward Blaine's neck, Blaine catching the blunt end in his fist a hair-breadth's distance from his throat.

He stared at Kurt. "How..." Blaine finally muttered, letting the inquiry trail off. He was truly at a loss for words.

"Piece of advice, Blaine," Kurt said, his face cool as ice water as he smoothed his hair. "Never make assumptions about what another person is or is not capable of without gathering evidence first."

Blaine dropped his gaze to the floor, looking abashed.

"Now. If you had been facing a vampire with that skill level, I think we both know you would be lunch by now. So. Are you ready to stop wallowing in self-pity over getting stuck with me and maybe actually give me a chance to make you into an incredible Slayer?"

Blaine looked back up, meeting Kurt's eyes. Kurt looked smug and aloof, but also...also almost hopeful.

Like maybe he wanted to work with Blaine. Like maybe Kurt really did want to help Blaine excel, rather than just humiliate him.

Blaine swallowed. "Yes," he whispered.

Quinn sighed.

"Really, Tina? Boy again?"

Tina looked unimpressed. "I thought you liked boys."

"I like boys," Dave supplied hopefully, eyeing the cowering college student that Tina had dragged back to the lair. He was cute. He had pale skin and big, terrified eyes.

Dave liked that in a boy.

"Shut up, Dave. Of course I like boys, but it seems like all we eat anymore. At least when Santana was here-"

"Don't." Tina's expression darkened considerably. "It's been almost thirteen years, Quinn. And if you're so hell-bent on girls all of a sudden, why don't you pick up dinner for a change?"

Quinn sniffed. "I'm doing research," she said loftily, gesturing to the flashing computer membrane on the wall before her.

Tina peered at the screen. "Any developments?"

Quinn smiled slightly. "Yes, actually, but I don't know that I'm up to discussing it on an empty stomach."

"Oh, for – here," Tina huffed, shoving the boy to Quinn. He whimpered and opened his mouth to voice fresh protests before he saw Quinn's vamp face and started to scream instead.

Quinn bit down hard, a bit of blood spurting up and smattering her cheeks lightly as she began to drink.

"Hey, don't drain him. Save some for us too."

Quinn took one last pull on the boy's artery before lifting her head and shoving him toward Tina, who latched onto his wrist.

Quinn licked her lips and wiped off her face, licking her fingers clean.

"We need more than just the one, Tina," she said. "He looks like he's ninety-five pounds soaking wet. In what hell dimension is that enough to share?"

Tina passed the boy to Dave. Dave always went last because he simply didn't have the self-control that the women did. It was probably because it had only been three years since Dave had been turned. It probably also had something to do with the fact that Dave had still been in the closet when he was turned, and hadn't gotten over his newfound ability to actually feast on pretty boys.

Dave wrapped his large hands around the boy's frail shoulders and bit down on the opposite side of his neck from where Quinn had fed, letting out a low growl as he devoured the boy.

"Perils of a small town, Quinn dear," Tina answered. "We can't arouse too much suspicion."

Quinn sighed. "Remind me again why we left Chicago?"

Tina stared at her evenly. "You know why. Now tell me what you found."

"Well. Two things. Our source at the Sylvester School tells me that they're already into phase two. So we should definitely prepare ourselves. And..."

"And?"

Quinn's smile spread across her face slow and cold, alighting her features with a malicious beauty.

"And I think I found the Summers boy."