Blaine gazed up at the shadowed home before him, a shroud of ethereal gray fog blanketing its maroon color and making its presence seem ghostly. As he moved toward it, his shadow followed him across the lawn, his limbs opaque and elongated before they became one with the dark surface of the unlit porch.

The sound of his footsteps made not a sound as he climbed the steps to Finn Hudson's house.  When he stopped at the door, he reached out and hesitantly grabbed the doorknob, turning it slowly only to stop short upon finding out that it was locked.

He sighed in relief.

Blaine didn't have a key to the Hudson house, and he couldn't possibly break a window without alerting either someone in the house or a neighbour of his presence. So, he figured, that was the end of his mission.

He would give up, go home, and try to sleep a little bit more.

At least, he reasoned with an unapologetic grin, I tried.

In his jubilance, Blaine forgot that Kurt had taken up a permanent residence amongst his thoughts, having wheedled his way into his mind completely.

Kurt's voice stopped him cold, as he went to turn away, and the smile fell from his face.

 Look beside you, idiot.

Blaine looked to his left and then to his right, eyes falling on a flower pot beside the door.

Sighing, he moved over to it, staring down at the yellow flower, standing in the center of the soil-filled clay pot.

There's a key in the dirt to the far left. Kurt's voice whispered in his head, making Blaine feel dizzy with desire. Grab it.

 Instinctively, Blaine dug his gloved hand into the soil, and, after a few seconds, his hand receded with a key hanging off his pinky finger.

Blaine's hands were trembling while he gently slid the key into the lock. His heart was pounding so fast, Blaine feared he would die before he could fulfill his task.

 "Okay." Blaine whispered aloud, gripping the dagger tightly in his left hand while turning the key with the other. "Okay."

A small ‘click' resonated in the thick air, and Blaine turned the doorknob once again. Pushing the door open, Blaine held his breath, until it was softly thudding against the adjacent wall.

The room was illuminated by a TV screen  to the right that was glowing a vibrant blue and sending a small icon tumbling about the monitor and bouncing off the sides, restrained to such a small space and unable to escape.

Blaine could see a staircase to the upstairs directly in front of him while the kitchen and dining room sat towards the back of the house, curtained by the darkness where the blue light couldn't reach.

He walked towards the living room where the bright screen resided and ran his fingers along the fabric of the couch. Blaine caressed the soft material before taking some between his finger and thumb and squeezing gently, rubbing it back and forth amongst the two digits.

 Towards the back of the room there were what appeared to be some family photos. Blaine tip-toed towards them and picked up one of the smaller frames. The light was especially dim in that particular corner; the figures were hard to make out, so the boy stepped closer towards the light, lifting the picture closer to his face slightly and squinted his eyes.

There were four people in the photo: a taller gentleman, who Blaine would have guessed was Finn's dad, a petite woman, who was clutched very close to the man, a grinning teenage boy, who Blaine knew was Finn, and another very slim boy with porcelain skin and entrancing eyes who looked an awful lot like-

BANG!

A noise from above tore Blaine from his thoughts.

He flinched and the portrait fell to the floor, a sheer look of terror frozen on the curly haired boy's face when the picture frame collided with the wood.

SMASH!

Blaine reached down to pick up the frame, the broken glass tinkling as it was shifted, but he froze, by hearing  the demons booming voice.

"Get upstairs Blaine- now."

 The tone was demanding, and anger was practically seeping from Kurt's words. He placed the frame back where he had found it - albeit on its back - and Blaine's feet quickly and carefully took him to the staircase.

 He let out a hiss as he took the first step, the throbbing in his shoulders sending a wave of pain down his back. Blaine sucked in a deep breath and repositioned his sweat-soaked fingers around the knife while gripping the railing with his free hand and he began to climb again.

One foot after the other, Blaine slowly reached the top of the stairs, his knuckles white and tense on either hand.

The hallway was long and narrow and the light was lacking.

Finn's room is the last door on the right.

"Okay," Blaine responded, which earned him a sharp SHHH! in return.

The tan boy kept a steady hand on the right wall as he made his way down the hall, wondering how Kurt knew so much about this house- right down to the exact location of Finn Hudson's room.

Finn's door was open the tiniest bit, which allowed Blaine to poke his head into the space.

Finn's room was small and cluttered. To the left, there was two or three bean bag chairs, situated around a TV screen, playing a rerun of Storage Wars on mute. Next to that was a dresser, though it appeared to not be in use, considering Finn's clothes were scattered about the floor and piled up on chairs. The window was left open, the smell of rain filtering through the room.

 Finally, Blaine took hold of the door and pushed it open.

Finn was sleeping soundlessly in his bed, unafraid and unaware of his not-so-distant fate.

  His chest softly moved with his breaths, pressing the fabric of his shirt tight against his upper body and letting it fall loosely down when the exhale came.

The floor creaked and groaned as Blaine made his way over to his sleeping figure, feeling absolutely terrified.

Blaine was about to kill an innocent person.

He was about to plunge a blade into the chest of his friend.

The word struck a nerve somewhere inside of him, and, at the moment, Blaine knew that he couldn't do this. He absolutely could not harm another person, much less murder them.

Blaine Anderson was not a murderer.

He clutched the hilt of the object tightly one last time, preparing to run from the house and leave Kurt behind. But Blaine knew better than anyone else that you can't outrun Kurt.

Do it.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and ran his free hand through his hair.

"I can't." Blaine whimpered, taking a step towards the door.

Blaine, kill him right now, Kurt demanded.

He took another step.

 "Kurt, I can't do this, I tried but I jus-"

Blaine smacked face first into a wall, but, when the tan boy looked up; he noticed that there was no wall there at all, rather an empty door frame.

Confused, he reached his hand out to touch the air, and it came to an abrupt stop right where a door should've been, almost like an invisible barrier.

Blaine set the knife down on the table beside Finn's bed and stretched out his other hand, touching the barrier, followed but his shoulder and his head.

Blaine started to panic.

He coiled his hands into fists and banged violently on the unseen force holding him back, trying to break whatever he could not see.

"It's no use, sweetie."

The voice was Kurt's- not in his head this time but, rather, behind him.

Blaine spun around to see the demon perched on the window sill, swinging his legs.

"Would you like that scary wall to go away?"

Kurt spoke softly, drawing Blaine near with his words.

Blaine nodded.

The demon raised one finger, motioning Blaine to come closer, and he obliged.

Kurt stood up and ran his hands up the sides of the smaller boy's face, bringing his own face to rest just beside Blaine's ear.

"Kill this horrible bully and it will all go away, I promise."

He nipped at his earlobe, causing Blaine to inhale sharply.

Kurt giggled softly, guiding Blaine towards the knife he had set down.

Blaine crept over towards the bedside table, Kurt encouraging him along the way.

When the nimble object was back in Blaine's palm, the uneasy feeling wafted over him again, and, almost like Kurt could sense it, he hushed the scared boy, promising once again, that all the pain would go away. All he had to do was this, for him- for Kurt.

He shakily raised the knife over Finn's sound asleep body, positioning it above his heart, but his hand refused to come down.

"You can do it, baby." Kurt cooed from the opposite side of the bed, intensely watching the scene of his own making unfold.

Blaine shook his head; he still couldn't do it, and Kurt instantly stopped, as room grew cold.

 Blaine looked up at the boy across from him with shining eyes to find a pair of dead ones staring back at him.

"Fucking kill him, you god damn little-"

The knife in Blaine's hand was suddenly shoved down by a strength that was not his, the sudden movement caused the object to position differently, missing the heart completely and sinking deep into Finn's stomach.

Finn's eyes jolted open, staring directly at Blaine whose hand was still attached to the knife.

He pulled it out, and blood poured out of the wound, staining his shirt and the bed a deep red.

Blaine threw the knife to the ground and covered his mouth with both hands, shuddering and he collapsed to the ground.

Finn let out a horrible groan, and Kurt was instantly standing over him, slamming his porcelain hands against his mouth and cutting him off.

The dying boy's eyes widened when his vision cleared, showing Kurt standing over him, and Finn immediately recognized him.

The sound of Finn saying Kurt's name, though muffled by his hand, was clear as day to Blaine.

His head snapped towards Kurt, dizziness overtaking him, catching sight of the other boy's shoes and four others standing in the doorway.

Blood was seeping through between the demon's fingers while Finn tried to stay alive, the stifled moans could still be heard behind his hand.

One pair of shoes backed up while the other let out an ear-splitting screech. Blaine looked up to see the bodies attached to the feet: a blurry man and a woman. The woman was leaning against the man with her small hands pressed hard against her mouth.

Kurt whipped around, catching sight of the two and letting out a gruesome cackle. The couple was taken aback, frozen in place.

"Kurt?" The man gasped, incredulously.

The corners of Kurt's mouth lifted, as he glowered at the man. His voice bubbled up his throat sickly, as though he was speaking with smoke rather than air. He stepped closer to them and narrowed his eyes, as they left behind the beautiful blue and replaced it with the horrific black. His teeth grew sharp, and his nails elongated.

With a malicious grin spanning his whole face, he looked at the older man directly in the eyes.

"Hello, Father."