The Source of Our Power: Chapter 9

Blaine wasn't sure when he came to his senses enough to begin following Angel outside. He didn't remember Carole offering tea. He didn't remember Kurt putting his own jacket around Blaine's shoulders so that he wouldn't get too cold. All he knew was that they were sitting on the back porch, a warm mug of strong black tea between Blaine's hands, and a mug of...something in Angel's hands. Something Blaine really didn't want to think about.

"So," Angel said awkwardly. Blaine looked up at him expectantly. "You...ah...follow any sports teams?"

"You can't be serious," Blaine said with a sharp laugh that was a little too high.

"Sorry. It's just...it's been awhile since I've done this. And you...well, look at you. You're all grown up."

"Such as it is," Blaine assented. "You know, you really are tall. Are you sure we're related?"

Angel laughed softly. "Yeah, I'm sure. It's amazing what throwing a little Filipino blood into the mix will do."

Blaine winced slightly at the reference to Filipino blood. Angel seemed to catch on, and his gaze dropped to his lap. "Sorry," he murmured.

Blaine bit his lip and looked at Angel, waiting until he met Blaine's gaze to reply. "It's Okay. I know you didn't mean...it's okay."

Angel nodded. When it became clear that he wasn't going to resume speaking anytime soon, Blaine forged ahead.

I...I don't really know where to start. So you must have had kids before you were turned..."

Angel shook his head and stared into his mug. "No. Well, none that I know of, anyway."

"So, how..." Blaine furrowed his brow. "Connor Reilly?" Angel nodded. "But he...he never had any children."

"None that anyone knew of," Angel answered. "I mean, after Jasmine...you know about Jasmine?"

Blaine nodded. "Every Slayer in school knows about Jasmine. We spent almost a semester on you, you know."

Angel's lips quirked into a small smile. "Well, after that there was some...concern. About what might happen if Connor fathered any children." Angel paused and looked around the yard sharply, leaning forward as if listening for something. After a moment he relaxed and continued.

"He didn't want to feel responsible for something like that happening again, and he was convinced that if he had children it might. I wondered about it too."

Angel's tone seemed to grow heavier and heavier as he spoke.

"Connor was never meant to be, and he knew that. I wanted him to have a normal life, a family...but he didn't see it that way. He decided that he was never going to have children and he didn't. Well, as far as he knew he didn't. He had a daughter that he never met. Raven."

"But you met her."

Angel shrugged. "I watched over her. And her daughter. And her daughter's sons." Angel glanced back at Blaine. "I've been keeping an eye on you your whole life, Blaine, and even if you weren't...even if you weren't special like you are, I still would. Connor was my son."

And there was something so painful in those words that Blaine felt an insane urge to hug the man. Vampire. Vampire, Blaine, not a man at all. Except...

Except if Angel wasn't a man, then what did that make Blaine? Because Blaine somehow, impossibly but seemingly irrefutably, had vampire blood flowing through his veins.

"How did you know about her?" Blaine asked softly, as if somehow Angel would break, as if he hadn't borne a thousand lifetimes of pain and still lived on.

"Her...her mother came to me when she realized she was pregnant. She wanted to keep the baby but..."

Blaine watched him through the pause, didn't interrupt. There was such a weight of sadness to him that Blaine could hardly bear it.

"But then there was the prophecy. And when she found out...we knew that giving Raven up would be the only way to keep her safe. To keep the entire line safe. Until...well, until it got to you."

"Me." Blaine's voice was barely a whisper.

"You. The one that the prophecy spoke of." Angel closed his eyes, his voice taking on the tone of recitation. The blood of two vampires, wombs of three Slayers, the power of the first demons to roam the Earth. A man amongst women. Innocent."

Blaine swallowed hard. He felt dizzy, greedy, overcome. "What else does it say?"

"It gets a bit more...esoteric after that. We don't have a complete translation, but...it seems that you are the one with the ability, the destiny to break the curse."

"Your curse?"

Angel looked down at his lap and gave a short, bitter laugh. "I wish it was just mine," he answered softly. He looked up and met Blaine's eyes, and Blaine flinched slightly at the intensity he saw there. "I used to think it was, but the Kalderashes didn't just curse me. They cursed us all. Our entire line. And somehow that ended up affecting...everything else."

"What do you mean?" Blaine whispered. He could barely make his voice work at all.

"I mean that it affected everything. Jasmine. Darla. Connor. All of us – it was all just leading up to this moment. To you, Blaine. I mean that the fate of the world is in your hands," Angel answered. "But no pressure or anything."

Brittany fidgeted near the motel window. "We need to get to Ohio," she said urgently.

Santana sighed and stretched out her legs on the bed where she sat. She looked up from the book in her lap. "I know, Britt, but Willy and I can't drive in the daytime. It's too dangerous."

"Don't call me Willy," Spike muttered from the other bed in the room. His arm was thrown across his eyes against the bedside lamp that Santana had insisted on keeping on.

"We're not even going in the right direction," Brittany protested. "We're getting farther away from them."

"I know. But people are looking for you. We need to throw them off the trail a bit."

"You sure you're not just avoiding your little reunion with Pappa and baby Kalderash?" Spike asked, his lips quirking into a slight smirk.

"Don't you mean Pappa and baby Summers?" Santana snarled. "You'd still be stalking them like something out of a really crappy horror movie right now if Angel hadn't insisted on taking his turn."

"I made a promise," Spike said harshly, sitting up. "I keep my bloody promises, you miserable-"

"All right, all right. Itzamna*, Willy, don't get your panties in a twist over a promise to a dead woman," Santana muttered, going back to her book.

Spike leapt to his feet and strode over to Santana's bed, ripping the book out of her hands and throwing it to the floor.

"Say that again," he hissed, moving his face mere inches from hers.

Santana's eyes narrowed and she shoved Spike back hard, leaping to her feet. "I said, Spike, that you need to move the fuck on. What has it been, fifty years since your precious Buffy-" Her words were cut off with a yelp as Spike delivered a powerful blow to Santana's jaw, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Forty-one years, five months, two weeks and six days," Spike replied, his voice dangerously soft.

Santana sprung to her feet with a snarl, now in full vamp face. "Yeah? Well, you'd think that would be enough time to grow your balls back," she spat before kicking Spike hard in the chest. Spike stumbled backwards before regaining his footing and lunging at Santana again. His human face had been replaced with his vamp face as well, and he was growling quietly.

Santana sidestepped him easily, and Spike roared in frustration, pulling the bedside lamp off the table and ripping the cord out of the wall in the process. Santana laughed at his first wild swing, her evasive movements fluid as a cat. They circled one another pensively.

And then screamed.

Spike and Santana flew to separate ends of the room, shielding their faces with sizzling fingers. Sunlight poured through the large picture window that faced both beds, illuminating Brittany's features in front of the window. She finished opening the curtains and then turned to smile at the two vampires huddled in the shadows on either end of the room.

"You bloody idiot girl, what do you think you're-"

"Don't call me an idiot," Brittany said firmly. "It makes me want to throw you outside and watch you burn to death."

Spike and Santana stared, slack-jawed and speechless.

"I don't want to kill you," Brittany amended softly, "but I don't like it when people call me stupid. And I'm tired of going the wrong way and listening to you fight. I'm not stupid. I'm strong. I'm special. I'm a Unicorn."

"Fuck," Spike groaned. He was wearing his human face once again. "Another fucking Harmony, aren't you?" He looked pointedly at Santana. "Well, I can see how this is going to go. We both know how it is with you and ditzy blondes."

"Ditzy is another word for stupid," Santana said with a smile that was clearly vicious even upon the return of her human features. "You should really throw him outside, Britt."

"I didn't mean it," Spike backpedaled nervously. "I was talking about Harm, anyway, not you. You're lovely. Unicorns all around. In fact, I think Harm may have left a stray figurine in the trunk if you want to-"

"In the trunk? How recently was she with you?" Santana asked sharply.

Spike smirked. "Well. Wouldn't you just love to know."

"You don't even respect her! How can you keep jerking her around like this?"

"She doesn't have a bleeding soul, Santana. And besides, you're hardly one to talk. I'd say you two spent more than enough time jerking one another-"

"It wasn't like that. I respected her. You just used her."

"Right. You respected how much she looked like Elizabeth."

"I'm about ready to respect your face."

"Ah, there we are. That must be the legendary Mayan wit everyone's always talking about."

"Now I kind of want to throw you both outside," said Brittany conversationally.

Santana's eyes widened. "But I thought our destinies were entangled. Or interrelated. Or something. Aren't they?"

Brittany sighed and closed her eyes. "They are. But you're never going to become my vampire lover if you keep fighting with Spike and driving me away from Ohio."

Santana made a strangled sound like she was choking on air. Spike laughed.

"We should probably sleep until it's dark again," Brittany said, firmly closing the heavy curtains. "But then we need to get to Ohio. We don't have a lot of time, and if they get Kurt-"

"They won't get Kurt," Spike interrupted fiercely.

"We won't let them touch Kurt," Santana confirmed with equal force.

Brittany's eyes flickered between them for a moment. "You know, it's a good thing Kurt isn't a girl," she said. "You two would be killing each other over him if he was."

"So would Angel," both vampires muttered. Startled, they glanced at one another and laughed.

Brittany beamed. "See? I knew you guys could be friends!"

Spike raised his eyebrows and Santana rolled her eyes at that, but neither one of them actually responded to the statement.

"Santana, can I borrow some pajamas?" Brittany asked, pulling off her sweater and heading toward the bathroom.

"I...um, I don't really have any pajamas. I have a few extra shirts, but..."

"Oh, that's okay," Brittany answered with a smile. "As long as you don't mind me sleeping beside you in just a shirt and underwear."

Santana swallowed thickly. Her skin seemed to take on an almost-human flush. "Y-yeah. That's great. I mean, that's fine, Britt. Whatever. Cool."

Spike snorted and Santana shot him a glare. She walked over to her suitcase and quickly shoved her long overnight shirts and comfy cotton underwear to the bottom of the bag. She pulled out a tiny purple T-shirt and a black pair of low-rise string bikini briefs. She turned to Brittany and handed her the items with a wide, innocent smile. "Here you are, Britt."

"Thanks," Brittany chirped, and bounced into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Santana stared at the bathroom door for a very long moment before covering her face with her hands and falling back onto the bed with a groan.

"Sweet dreams, love," Spike said, the smirk evident in his voice as he settled back down on top of the covers on the opposite bed.

"Die," Santana muttered, wondering how she was going to get a single moment of sleep before nightfall.

Kurt's eyes sparkled in the morning sun, the full spectrum of their endless colors clearer than Blaine had ever seen them before. Blaine pulled him down flush on top of him, the heat of Kurt's smooth, naked skin making him moan.

"Good morning." Kurt's voice was soft and breathless, his face so close to Blaine's that they were almost touching. Blaine poked his tongue out and lightly traced the contours of Kurt's perfect pink lips.

Kurt sighed as his eyes fell shut, lowering his slightly parted mouth onto Blaine's so that Blaine's tongue slipped inside of his mouth as their lips met.

Blaine reached up to pull Kurt even closer, one hand threading into his soft hair and the other resting gently on his pert, lovely ass. Firm and soft and just plump enough to feel amazing when Blaine allowed himself to gently squeeze. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

They began to move together as they kissed, and it was a bit vague what they were doing exactly, but it felt incredible, Kurt's breath on his face and his strong, slender body bringing Blaine quickly to the brink.

"Kurt," he whispered. "Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. I want you so badly, Kurt."

"I want you too," Kurt whispered back.

Blaine moaned again and buried his face in Kurt's neck, placing soft kisses against the tender sweat-damp skin.

"Blaine." There was something different about Kurt's voice. It sounded less breathless and wanton, more crisp and businesslike.

They kept moving together, faster and faster. Blaine whimpered, feeling himself get close.

"Blaine." And then there was someone knocking at the door.

"No..." Blaine whined. "Please...they can wait. Just let them wait. I'm so close, Kurt, you feel so good..."

"BLAINE!" The knocking at the door grew louder, more persistent, and suddenly Kurt dissolved like a ghost in his arms and he was alone, tangled in the sheets of his bed.

"Blaine, so help me I am going to come in there if you don't answer me right this second!"

Blaine groaned miserably and opened his eyes. "I'm awake," he called.

"It's about time," Kurt called back from the hallway. "It's almost ten-thirty. We have a long day ahead of us, and there are some people I want you to meet."

Blaine groaned again. His dream was so much better than this shit.

"Okay," he called back, sitting up. "Just...um, give me half an hour? I need to take a shower first."

"All right," Kurt replied, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "I'll have breakfast waiting."

Blaine jumped out of bed and smiled while he stretched. He looked down at his raging hard-on and sighed. Silently thanking god for the invention of en-suite bathrooms, he made his way toward the shower to try and clean both his body and his mind.

When Blaine reached the kitchen, post-orgasmic and freshly showered, there was a pot of coffee waiting for him. On the coffee maker there was also a note in Kurt's neat script informing him that half of his breakfast was warming in the oven and the other half was in the refrigerator. Blaine smiled. Since Brittany had gone missing, Kurt had allowed Blaine to forgo his morning tangerine-and-long-jog in favor of comfort food and sleeping in. He was still decidedly relentless when it came to Blaine's training and studies, but the small nurturing gestures didn't escape Blaine's notice.

Kurt had made him whole wheat pancakes with raspberry preserves, turkey bacon, and a fruit and nut plate to go with his coffee. As Blaine ate, he slowly became aware of voices in the next room. And not just the familiar voices of the household members.

Blaine and Angel had talked long into the night. They had missed the official Council meeting, but Kurt had assured him that he would fill him in later. Blaine knew that a few attendees had stayed late and opted to stay over in some of the Hummel-Hudson house's many guest bedrooms. As a work-house largely funded by the Council, it was expected that they house any members that needed lodging. Kurt had told Blaine that it sometimes felt like living in a hotel.

Blaine finished eating and washed his dishes before proceeding to the living room. Kurt, Carole and Artie were there with three others Blaine vaguely remembered having seen before he went to sleep the night before. There was a large, striking woman with shrewd eyes and an almost terrifying air of confidence as well as two good-looking men around his own age with floppy hair.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Kurt said cheerfully, walking over to stand beside Blaine and give his arm a brief, gentle squeeze. Blaine raised his eyebrows at him.

"Kurt was just telling us all about you," the brunette boy said smoothly. "A male Slayer. Fascinating. I'm something of an expert on Slayer lore. Would you consider allowing me to conduct a magical analysis of-"

"Shut it, Jesse," the woman said firmly but without much bite. "Don't mind him, I'm pretty sure he has narcissistic personality disorder and it sometimes affects his social skills. I'm Lauren." She held out her hand and Blaine found himself on the receiving end of one of the firmest handshakes he'd ever experienced.

"This is Jeremiah," she added, indicating the blond man standing next to an affronted-looking Jesse. Jeremiah gave Blaine an almost-shy smile that seemed to be throbbing with warmth. Blaine felt an odd tug in the pit of his stomach as he smiled back.

Jeremiah was a cute guy.

"So. Slayer strength, huh? Hot. What team to you play for, Blaine?"

"Lauren!" Kurt admonished.

Blaine blushed. "No, that's okay. I don't mind. Uh, I'm gay, so..." he shrugged, unsure of what else to say on the subject.

"Hmmm. Shame. I'm sure Hummel and Jerry are happy to hear that, though."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Jeremiah blushed deeply and looked at his feet.

"So, Blaine," Lauren said, her voice taking on a brisk tone. "We need to talk. J1, J2 – go outside and play or something."

"Oh, come on," Jesse protested as Jeremiah headed toward the door.

"Out," Lauren snapped.

"But Artie gets to stay? He can't even-"

"When you've shown me almost four years of loyal service without a consistent attitude problem, we'll talk about you joining us at the big kids' table. Now go."

Lauren's tone grew sharp enough that Blaine felt himself involuntarily flinch. Glaring heavily at Artie, Jesse turned and stormed out of the room.

Lauren motioned toward the couch, and everyone moved to sit. Even those that had lived in the house for years seemed to react to the gesture as a sign of permission. Blaine suppressed a smile. He liked Lauren already.

Once they were settled, Lauren turned toward Blaine, her expression serious. "The Council has asked me to perform a locator spell on Brittany Pierce," she said. Blaine tensed.

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt added quickly. "Artie convinced us that we could trust Lauren. She knows the real story. As much as the rest of us do, anyhow."

"About time too," Lauren said, sounding slightly irritated. "Your sad little operation could have used me months ago."

"Well, we're grateful to have your help now," Carole said warmly. Lauren smiled back, her annoyance seeming to dissipate completely.

"I'm planning to do two spells," Lauren continued. "A false spell to throw them off the trail, and a true one so that we know where she is and can lead them as far away from her as possible. From what Burt has told me it sounds like this girl has some psychic ability. Is that true?"

Blaine nodded. "It's not consistent or predictable, but she has prophetic dreams and sometimes she just knows things. Most people don't take her seriously because she has this kind of...um...dreamy quality about her, but she's almost never wrong."

Lauren nodded. "So she's a true prophet then. Those are rare. And I'm willing to bet my fine ass that she's headed this way."

"Probably," Blaine answered. "At least, I hope so. I'm really her only friend, and I would hope she'd come here if things are getting bad at school."

"That's sweet, Blaine, but that isn't why I think she's coming here. I mean...you can feel it, can't you?"

"Feel what?" Blaine asked nervously.

"Shit's about to get real," Artie supplied. Lauren nodded in agreement.

"This is where it's happening," she added. "The end is coming, unless we can stop it."

Blaine bit his lip. "Apocalypse?" he whispered, his stomach clenching in fear.

Kurt reached over and covered Blaine's hand with his own. The warmth in the touch allowed a tiny rush of calm to wash through him.

Lauren gave a short, harsh laugh.

"Nah," said Artie, "that shit's old."

"Times change and so do strategies," Lauren added with a nod.

"They've almost won already. They've just been so quiet and methodical this time around that we didn't notice early enough," Kurt added softly, squeezing Blaine's hand. It occurred to Blaine that the action might be as much for Kurt's comfort as Blaine's own.

"Unless, of course, you can stop it," Lauren added with a sad smile. "From what we've gathered of the prophecy so far, if you can end the curse to your line, we've got a shot."

Blaine felt his stomach drop. He suddenly wished that he hadn't eaten such a big breakfast.

"But no pressure or anything," Lauren added with a wink.

"I think I might take a walk down to that little corner store I saw on the way in," Jeremiah said. "Want to come?"

"No," Jesse sighed. "I need to make a phone call."

Once Jeremiah had left, Jesse wandered over toward the living room window. He couldn't hear anything through the double-paned glass nor see anything through the blinds. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny blue orb.

"Accendo," he whispered. The orb rose into the air and hovered in front of the window. The blinds fluttered slightly and then went translucent. No one inside the room reacted.

Jesse took in the scene in front of him. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but it wasn't always about the words. When searching for points of weakness, in fact, it rarely was.

He studied the boy Slayer and his Watcher. It didn't take long; anyone could see it. Jesse's face split into a wide grin. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

"Well?" demanded the voice on the end of the line by way of greeting.

Jesse laughed. "Hello to you too."

"Look, I don't have time for-"

"I know. This isn't a social call, I swear."

Jesse paused for effect, enjoying the tension it created. "I have an idea," he continued, studying the boys on the couch, oblivious to his observation.

Soon it would all be worth it. The subservience, the humiliation, the insults. All of it.

Jesse smiled again. "I know how we can get the Summers boy."