The Source of Our Power: Chapter 3

By the time he and Kurt made their way into Hummel Tires & Lube that afternoon, Blaine was feeling thoroughly humbled.

Kurt knew his stuff. Blaine didn't know how Kurt knew so much about...well...everything related to slaying, but it was clear that he did. Kurt could fight, Kurt could do basic spellwork, Kurt could read Latin, Sanskrit and ancient Sumerian, and Kurt had even begun to teach Blaine a very effective meditation technique to help improve his focus.

Also, Kurt filled out his snug-fitting training apparel quite nicely. Especially after a few hours of sparring when he was all sweaty with exertion, the fabric of his sleeveless t-shirt downright clinging to his well-defined chest.

Not that Blaine had noticed.

They had both showered and changed before lunch, and just when Blaine was beginning to get fidgety with all the reading and lecturing in the afternoon (and Kurt had him actually taking notes, and told him to expect a quiz by the end of the week), Kurt had looked at the clock and announced that it was time to head to the tire shop.

Blaine really, really liked Burt Hummel.

It was fairly obvious to Blaine that Kurt was gay, though neither of them had specifically disclosed that information to one another yet, and Burt seemed nothing but unabashedly fond and proud of his son.

Their closeness made Blaine slightly jealous. He hadn't even told his parents that he was back in Ohio.

But it wasn't just his relationship with Kurt. Burt also made Blaine feel welcome instantly. What could have been a very awkward period of adjustment was made exponentially more comfortable by Burt's easy manner. When he had met Blaine the night before he had clapped him on the shoulder and said "It's nice to finally have another Slayer in the house. It's been too long. I've missed it," before giving Blaine a brief, friendly squeeze and walking into the kitchen to get himself a beer.

He had offered one to Blaine too, but Kurt had glared at him, reminding his father that Blaine had training in the morning.

Burt had shrugged. "My Slayers never seemed any worse for wear for kicking back a cold one every now and then, but hey – what do I know, right?" He had responded, sending Blaine a wink and a smile.

Today, seeing Burt was once again a nice break from Kurt's serious intensity, and he walked over to greet them as the entered the shop, wiping his hands off on a rag.

"So, Blaine, I hear we're going to be putting you to work soon?" Burt asked after giving each boy a swift, firm hug with plenty of back-slapping.

"Uh, yeah. But like I told Kurt, I don't really know anything about..."

Burt waved the sentiment away with his hand. "You'll be fine. Sylvester said you were bright. Trust me, we'll have you rebuilding carburetors and pressurizing solar cells within the month. Right, Kurt?"

Kurt looked a bit skeptical, but forced his face into a tight smile when his father fixed him with a pointed look.

"Right, Dad."

But Blaine was only half paying attention. Ms. Sylvester had said he was bright?

Well, that was definitely something.

"So, Kurt. You bring Blaine to show him his new toy?"

Kurt's face brightened considerably at this. "Yeah. Is it ready?"

"Just gave it a final tune-up myself this morning. Purring like a kitten."

Blaine's eyes widened. "You...you're giving me a car? I can't accept-"

"Not exactly," Kurt assured him. "Come on."

Blaine followed Kurt and Blaine through the shop, waving to Finn and Carole along the way, both of whom also seemed to work there.

They ducked under cars on lifts and wound their way toward the back of the shop, where an object was draped in oilcloth.

Kurt ran over to it and swept the cloth away with a dramatic flourish, revealing a motorcycle.

A shiny, red beautiful motorcycle.

Blaine stared at it.

"Well?" Burt asked, clapping Blaine on the shoulder. "What do you think?"

What Blaine thought was that neither he nor the bike was likely to survive him riding it, but he figured that probably wasn't the best way to express his gratitude.

"It's...it's amazing. But I can't...I mean, you can't...it's just so..."

Kurt laughed, and Blaine couldn't help but smile at the sight. He looked so lovely with his eyes warmed up like that.

"It's all right Blaine. I'll teach you how to ride it. I think you'll find it easier than you may expect."

Blaine eyed the machine, and then gave Kurt a dubious look.

"Really. Slayers and motorbikes...it's really the perfect vehicle for you. A lot of Watchers are gifting their Slayers with them these days. They're fast, they run forever on a few well-placed solar cells and a backup tank, you can fit into tight spaces that cars can't if you're ever being pursued, and this one is even designed for superior off-roading."

Kurt leaned back against the bike, running his fingers across the handlebars with something akin to reverence.

"Besides," he added, looking up at Blaine, "with your reflexes, Blaine, your body was born to ride this."

Blaine couldn't suppress a smirk at that, and Kurt suddenly went beet-red, swiftly moving away from the bike and clearing his throat.

"It's beautiful," Blaine murmured, realizing he was still looking at Kurt. He quickly directed his gaze back to the bike.

"Yeah, Kurt helped restore it," Burt informed him proudly. "You should have seen the thing when we hauled it in here. Rusted bucket of bolts that hardly ran."

Blaine looked at Kurt with unmasked awe. "Is there anything you're not good at?" he asked.

Kurt's face, which had started to recover from its earlier blush, reddened once again.

"He got it from his mom," Burt said, ruffling Kurt's hair. Blaine forced himself not to laugh at the look of sheer indignation on Kurt's face as he hastily smacked his father's hand away and attempted to smooth his hair back into submission.

By the time Kurt and Blaine headed back to the house for dinner, Blaine was sore, dirty, and his jeans were ripped.

But at least he had finally gotten the hang of the bike.

Kurt wasn't the least bit surprised by Blaine's progress, though Blaine definitely was. But Kurt was right. Apparently his body was made to ride.

And once he'd really gotten the hang of it, he couldn't pretend that he hadn't felt a jolt of something nearly electric running through him as Kurt slipped behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist tightly.

And Blaine had gunned it, all the way home.

He couldn't get over the exhilaration of whipping forward almost full-throttle, a feeling so much like flying, so wild and unrestrained and yet so controlled, that Blaine had lost himself in intensity.

It was so similar to the way he had felt on the few occasions when he had really lost himself in the slaying during field exercises at school. He simply let go, and let that indefinable current of something have free reign inside his body. That current that he had never felt before the dreams began, but could no longer remember living without. It was almost as if the rest of the world slowed down and everything he did, every move he made, was perfect.

So by the time he and Kurt arrived at the house for dinner, Blaine was sore, dirty and his jeans were ripped, this was true.

He also felt fantastic.

As strange as it was simply moving in with another family like this, Blaine was fairly certain that he could get used to living in the Hummel-Hudson home.

He already knew that he liked Burt, and Kurt was definitely growing on him. But seeing them with Finn and Carole just made sense of everything.

Separately, all four were lovely people. But together, they were beautiful.

The way that Kurt and Finn sniped at each other good-naturedly, the comfort that the boys had in challenging their parents while obviously respecting them immensely, the way that, in the truest sense possible, Carole and Burt were partners.

Blaine turned his head away in embarrassment lest his slightly damp eyes draw attention. It was just so much. It was family.

It was something Blaine had never really had. Not like this.

"Dude, you're a guy Slayer? That's awesome," Finn enthused, trying valiantly to keep his semi-chewed food contained in his mouth while he spoke.

Kurt looked at him in horror. "Finn, how many times? Swallow, then speak. Eating and speaking should never exist in tandem."

Finn rolled his eyes but swallowed his food and took a large gulp of milk, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Blaine could practically feel Kurt's disgust radiating off of him.

"So are you, like, stronger than girl Slayers? Because you know, guys are usually stronger than girls, so..."

Kurt groaned. "Please tell me you did not actually ask that."

Blaine laughed lightly. "Uh, no. I mean, there are some that I am stronger than, but there were plenty of girls at the Sylvester School that were stronger than me. But it isn't just about strength," Blaine added, his eyes darting to Kurt with a slightly self-deprecating smile. "There's a lot more to being a good Slayer than that."

"You bet your ass there is," Burt asserted. "My first Slayer was a little slip of a thing, practically scared of her own shadow. She wasn't the strongest I've seen by far, but she was one of the best. Quick, smart, brave." Burt looked at Blaine. "She made it all the way to retirement. Best thing a Watcher can hope for."

Carole rolled her eyes. "Yes, Burt, we all know how much you like to brag about Emma."

Blaine looked up from his meal. "Emma? Not...I mean...you don't mean Emma Pillsbury?"

Burt, Carole and Kurt all froze, forks clattering. Finn continued eating, utterly oblivious.

Carole shot Burt an apologetic look. He seemed to ponder something for a moment before looking at Blaine. "Yeah," Burt answered slowly. "You know Emma?"

"Um, yes," Blaine answered, fidgeting slightly. "She's the one that found me after I was called. But she's...she's Matriarch of Western Ohio. She was your Slayer?"

Burt and Kurt shared a moment of intense, nonverbal communication before Kurt turned to Blaine.

"She was, Blaine. But...well, it's complicated, but we really need to keep that between us, okay? Just- it can't leave this table."

Blaine stared back at Kurt in confusion. "Um, all right...I...I guess..."

Kurt glanced back at Burt again. "I will explain it to you, Blaine, just...not right now, okay?"

Blaine noticed that Kurt was glancing at Finn out of the corner of his eye.

"You too, Finn," Carole said firmly.

"Yeah, all right, but- I mean, why? We all know Burt and Ms. Pillsbury are friends. We all knew your first Slayer's name was Emma. It's not rocket science. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that if that information got out to the wrong people it could get us all killed, Finn," Kurt snapped. "Do I need to go get the silver bullets?"

Finn paled. "Hey, dude, no need to get personal-"

"Boys." The voice was soft and calm, but carried an unmistakable weight of authority. They both immediately fell silent and looked at Carole.

"This is a very serious and important conversation that we will all have as a family when the time is right. And that includes you too, Blaine, you are a part of this family now. But please trust me when I tell you that you two are safer not knowing the details of this right now." She looked pointedly at Blaine and Finn. "But please believe me when I tell you that this is serious, and that it is very important that you not repeat what you know. All right?"

Blaine and Finn both nodded.

"Now," Carole added, her face brightening, "anyone want dessert? I've got all the fixings for make-your-own-sundaes in honor of Blaine's first official day as a Slayer."

"Yes!" Finn cried out joyfully, punching his fist into the air.

Blaine awoke just before sunrise, lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. Kurt had told him to go ahead and sleep in today – tonight he would start patrolling, and they would both be up very late.

Blaine stared around the room. It was simply furnished and had blank walls. Blaine wondered if the Hummel-Hudsons would mind if he put some posters up or something.

Finding himself too restless to sleep, Blaine got up and headed for the staircase. Maybe he could get in a bit of practice. The basement was sound-proofed, after all, and a bit of physical exertion might wear him out enough to get in another few hours of shut-eye.

He paused at the top of the stairs, hearing the murmuring of voices below. Remembering Kurt's admonishment about his loud descent into the training room the previous day, Blaine practiced his stealth. He crept down the smooth wooden staircase noiselessly, pleased that the owners of the voices didn't seem to hear him.

As he got closer, it became clear that the voices belonged to Burt and Kurt. They were in the kitchen. Blaine was just about to join them, when he realized that the tone of their conversation seemed tense. Not exactly meaning to eavesdrop, he moved closer to the door. It was halfway open, but Blaine was definitely shielded from view.

When he heard Burt say what was unmistakably Blaine's name, he stopped pretending not to listen, and instead leaned in as close as he dared.

"I know Dad," Kurt was saying, sounding agitated. "It's just...what if it's safer for him somewhere else? The last thing I want to do is put him in even more danger than he's in already."

"Kurt, I don't think there is anyplace safer. He needs to be with people who know what's going on. People who know who he is."

"But Emma-"

"He can't stay with Emma! For God's sake, Kurt, the boy needs a Watcher. And frankly, it makes me feel a little better knowing there's a Slayer in the house. He isn't the only one who's in danger."

Kurt sighed. "Dad, we've been 'in danger' for the past thirteen years. Do you really think they still-"

"Yes. Yes I do, Kurt. Thirteen years is nothing for a vampire grudge. Now, it's like I said. I want you sticking to that boy like glue. You need each other. You need to keep each other safe."

"But what about you? You're the one that actually laid the curse, Dad. If anyone needs protection, it's you. You're still credentialed. You could-"

"No, Kurt. If it comes down to it, I've had a good run. You're young. Your safety is more important."

"That's ridiculous!"

Burt lowered his voice significantly. Blaine leaned closer to the door to make out the words.

"It's what your mother would have wanted," Burt said softly. "Please, Kurt. If we're lucky, then we'll all get out of this alive. But you and Blaine...you and Blaine are the most important. The prophecy..."

"We don't even have a complete translation for the prophecy, Dad. We're doing all this on a hunch and a few educated guesses."

"You have something better to go on?"

Kurt sighed. "No. I just wish we had more resources. If we could just tell the Council..."

"You know we can't do that."

"I know. I just wish I knew who we could trust."

"We can trust each other. And Will and Emma. I'm not quite sold on Lauren and her boys yet, but it's a start."

Kurt sighed. "Yeah, it is."

There was a moment of silence. Blaine forced himself to start moving back toward the staircase to avoid being discovered. He stopped in his tracks when he heard Kurt's voice again.

"I think we can trust Blaine too."

There was a heavy pause before Burt replied.

"You feel it too, huh?"

"I do," Kurt answered, almost too quietly for Blaine to hear.

Blaine smiled to himself and crept back up the stairs.

He climbed back into bed, stared at the ceiling once again, and thought about what he had heard.

Tina pulled back the blackout curtains ever-so-slightly, hissing at the weak vestiges of sunlight that poured through.

"At least another hour until it's safe. Why are we staying in this fleabag atrocity again?"

Quinn opened a single eye from where she lay on one of the double beds in the room. "Because, Tina darling, I wanted to sleep in a real bed for a change. Those dreary mausoleums and condemned mansions you're always finding us are charming and all, but I for one haven't been dead too long to appreciate indoor plumbing and electricity."

"We're vampires, Quinn," Tina huffed out, pacing. "We have a certain image to maintain, and this certainly doesn't-"

"No. It doesn't. The image I'd like to maintain includes 2,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and French bellboys for breakfast. This is a compromise. Now stop whining and lie down."

Tina glared at her. "I can't sleep."

"Well then at least shut up," Quinn sighed. "Some of us would like to get some rest before we're back on the road again, and we can't all sleep through irritating monologues."

Both women glanced to the second bed, where Dave was splayed, sleeping like he was more dead than he actually was.

"I swear, I don't know why we even bother with him," Tina muttered.

"He's useful," Quinn sighed. "For now, anyway."

As if on cue, Dave twisted onto his other side, and mumbled something in his sleep. Quinn was on her feet inside of two seconds.

"Wait, what did he say?"

Tina shrugged. "He always talks in his sleep."

"Yes, but it sounded almost like he said-"

"Hummel," Dave muttered. "Fuck, Hummel, you look so..." he fell back into mumbles.

The two women didn't even have time to exchange glances before they were shaking him awake.

"Fuck's sake!" Dave bellowed, shoving them away from him.

"Dave," Tina said seriously, folding her arms across her chest. "Who is Hummel?"

Dave's eyes went wide. "What? I...I don't know what you're..."

"Cut the crap, Dave," Tina snapped. "You were talking in your sleep. This is important. This could help us. Who were you talking about?"

Dave avoided her eyes. "Just some kid I went to high school with."

"Friend of yours?" Quinn asked.

"Uh, not exactly."

"What was his first name?"

Dave seemed to come as close to blushing as was physically possible for him.

"Kurt."

Tina almost jumped up and down in excitement. "It was in Ohio, wasn't it?"

Dave looked suspicious. "Yeah. How the hell did you know that?"

"Dave," Quinn said softly, sliding beside him on the bed. "How would you feel about a little reunion between you and Kurt?"

Dave stared at her, uncomprehending. "You'd take me to see Hummel? Why?"

Tina smiled, perching on the edge of the bed. "Dave, you've been with us for a while now. I think it's time we filled you in on a few things. The first being that we've been looking for your friend Kurt for a very long time."

Dave stared at her. "Can I have him?" He blurted. "Uh, I mean...can I turn him?"

Tina and Quinn exchanged wicked smiles.

"Dave," Quinn said, her voice nearly a purr. "Of course you can. But we want to have some fun with him first too. Now I want you to tell us all about him."

Dave's face broke into a slow, wide grin.

He couldn't wait to get back to Lima.