A lick of light slipped through the open drapes, casting its radiance across Kurt's half-lidded eyes. He opened them, slowly, before lifting his hand to block the light from his vision. He groaned, quietly, as he sat up slightly, his body aching. The bed hadn't exactly been the most comfortable thing he had ever slept on. 

The room was still relatively dark, even in the daylight. He sat there, dazed for a moment, trying to remember where he was, when he heard a small snoring sound beside him. His body went rigid, then, as reality hit him harder than a tonne of red bricks. 

He was on a road trip to New York City, with Blaine Anderson.

Kurt turned his head, very slowly, in the direction in which Blaine lay, still sleeping. He felt a small smile creeping over his face, as he watched the other boy sleeping, mouth hanging open, eyes shut, fingers clinging to the pillows. Kurt watched as his eyes seemed to move about beneath his creamy lids, those long, full lashes fluttering slightly, a sign of dreams dancing about in his mind. He took comfort in the small humming sounds escaping his lips, his even breaths, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He had an insatiable urge to reach across and brush his hair, no longer gelled and neat, but instead falling in small curls, off of his forehead, but he told himself that would be crossing the line. 

Kurt looked away, quickly, when Blaine began to waken, his nose crinkling, eyes squinting, fingers letting go of the pillows. He groaned as he pushed himself upwards, his eyes opening, so very slowly, his long, dark lashes flittering open, those dark eyes coming to surface.

"Oh," Blaine said, groggily. "Hi."

He wasn't looking at Kurt, his eyes still half-closed, but had apparently remembered that he was there. Kurt mumbled something that he hoped sounded like a 'hey', his eyes on the green wall next to the window. Blaine was sitting all the way up now, his eyes opened, a yawn escaping his lips.

"Sleep okay?" Blaine asked Kurt, finally shifting to look right at him.

It was awkward, waking up next to a guy you barely knew, especially when that guy happened to look like Blaine Anderson. The way his hair was wild and untamed, sticking up in small tufts, every which way, made him look even more attractive. 

"Yes," Kurt confirmed, simply. "You?"

He had surprisingly, slept quite well, despite the circumstances. The bed wasn't exactly ideal, but it did just fine for a few hours. 

"Like a log," Blaine said, happily, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Kurt looked away again, resisting the urge to catch a glimpse of what he was wearing, even though he really, really wanted to. However, it was difficult when Blaine stood up and walked across the room. He was adorned in a grey t-shirt, his chest very much defined against the material. His pyjama bottoms were baggy and midnight blue in colour, small cloud-shaped patterns scattered everywhere. Kurt discovered that they were also dangerously low on his waist when Blaine reached up to pull the drapes apart, his shirt sliding up a little, revealing the tanned skin of Blaine's lower back. Kurt swallowed hard and looked away quickly.

"Well," Kurt said, standing up, just as Blaine began to turn around, the slanted curve on his lower stomach showing for a brief moment, before the shirt slid down over it. "I'm going to go take a shower."

A really cold one, he added silently, before racing inside the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

                                                                    ***

"You good to go?" Blaine asked, perched on the edge of the bed, grinning.

Kurt did a last minute sweep, his eyes darting around the room, looking for anything he might have left by mistake.

"Looks like it," he said, finally, satisfied that nothing was left behind. 

Blaine jumped up and grabbed his bag from where it lay on the ground. He straightened up and began walking towards Kurt. He took Kurt's suitcase in his free hand.

"You go check us out and I'll get these into the car."

Kurt nodded and watched as Blaine strolled outside, tugging the bag and the suitcase with ease out the door. He followed and then broke away from Blaine, heading across to the main reception. He stopped by the door and was just about to push it, when he saw the flash of red through the filthy glass. He froze, stuck to the spot. 

He looked closely, through the glass, past the dust and dead insects and watched as the thing began to change form. Its celadon coloured, scaly skin began to ripple and turn, as it faded to a smooth, tan colour. The long, pointed nails on its large hands began to shrink, eventually forming what seemed to be very large human hands. Its razor-like teeth morphed into human teeth, rotten ones, its huge, red lips shrivelled down until they formed human lips. The red, glowing eyes in its head began to change, whites showing, a dark pupil shaping in the middle. 

In one swift movement, the body shrank and twisted, until it resembled that of an overweight middle-aged man. Kurt cringed at the nakedness before him, averting his eyes, then looking back to see what it was doing. It disappeared in through a back door.

Kurt swung around quickly and headed back to the parking lot. Blaine was standing by the car, whistling, his eyes shut.

"Blaine," Kurt hissed and Blaine's eyes shot open. "He's a Cresil."

"What?" Blaine asked, face twisting in confusion.

Kurt breathed, resisting the pressing need to sigh with exasperation, then spoke again, slowly.

"The guy at the reception desk," he told Blaine. "Is a Cresil."

Blaine's eyes widened like saucers now, his lips parting, eyebrows furrowing in the middle.

"As in a Cresil demon?"

"Well, not unless you know any other type of Cresil," Kurt spat out. "Yes, a Cresil demon!"

"Oh," Blaine said looking a little dazed. "Damn."

"You talked to him last night," Kurt semi-squealed. "How did you not notice?"

Blaine attained a brief air of frustration, then said, "I was almost unconscious, give me a break."

Kurt rolled his eyes and said nothing and Blaine stood up straight, hand reaching inside his belt.

"Let's go."

The two headed back to the front door, seraph blades in hand and peered through the dirty window. It sat there now, newspaper laid out in front of it on the desk. It was fully clothed, too, which was a good thing, Kurt supposed, providing there were any good things about having a Cresil in the form of a human right in front of you.

"Play along," Blaine whispered, as he opened the door and walked inside. Kurt followed.

Blaine was grinning brightly now, the creature looking up from the paper, eyes too sinister to pass for human. Kurt stood next to Blaine at the desk.

"We'd like to check out," Blaine beamed, his hand close to his belt. 

The demon eyed both of them for a moment, eyes lingering on the dark swirls peeking out from their collars and sleeves, obviously recognising the Marks and connecting information, realising that they had to be Shadowhunters.

Blaine gave Kurt a meaningful nod and Kurt stood still for a moment, then realised.

"Oh!" he said, reaching inside his pocket and producing the room key. He placed it down on the desk and raised his eyes to meet the demon's.

"Thirty bucks," the creature said, a slight twang to his accent, his voice scratchy. 

"I've only got a hundred," Blaine said, waving a hundred dollar bill in the air. "Do you have change?"

The demon didn't speak, simply snatched the bill from Blaine's hand and turned away, going inside the small room again.

"Sneak in now, while his back is turned," Blaine urged, hand going to Kurt's shoulder and giving him a gentle push in the direction of the small entrance to the back room. 

Kurt walked, Blaine at his heels, hand on his belt. He saw the creature standing there, its back to them, as he dug through an old metal box. 

"Ready?" Blaine mouthed at Kurt, eyes wide, as he lifted the blade from his belt.

Kurt raised his, too and waited for the prompt from Blaine. 

"Orifiel!" Blaine shouted, the blade glistening in his hand, the light filling the entire room.

The demon shot its head around at a rapid speed, its eyes wide and showing more of its demonic side, the red seeping through the white.

Kurt quickly raised his seraph blade and named it.

"Gazardiel!"

He watched as the creature broke out of the human profile, it's layers of flab protruding out of the smooth skin, its face growing, claws extending. Blaine was muttering obscenities under his breath as he lunged at the creature, lodging the blade in its enormous stomach. It let out a deafening screeching sound and made a swipe for Blaine with its huge claw. Kurt stepped forward and launched his shining blade at the creatures head, aiming right between its glassy eyes. 

Instead, it became wedged in its temple. It squealed again, its large body twisting in pain. 

"By the Angel," Kurt uttered, reaching into his belt for something else he could use as a weapon. He'd very tactlessly left his other blades in one of his cases.

He had nothing and when he looked to Blaine for a solution he shrugged.

"I've only got the one," Blaine breathed and Kurt muttered a curse word. 

You can use anything as a weapon, his tutor back in Idris had taught him. He thought hard, mind racing, trying to come up with a means of defence against this thing. Finally, he reached down and unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his jeans. 

Blaine was lashing out at the demon now, his blade slicing its stomach and arms, slime and puss bleeding out in large droves, covering the floor. Kurt moved closer, while the demon was concentrated on Blaine and swung the belt swiftly across the demon, slicing all the way through its stomach. It cried out, the sound penetrating through Kurt's brain. He watched as it fell to its side, arms flailing, claws grasping the air. 

"Nice hit," Blaine said, before diving forward and pushing the blade across the demon's throat, sending a loud wail from its slimy lips, the sound echoing through the air. It began to shrivel to nothing then, sifting away back to the hellish dimension from which it had originated.

Kurt and Blaine stood there, in silence, breathing hard. The place was a mess; Papers every where, pens and pencils strewn across the floor, chairs over turned, picture frames smashed. Kurt looked around, wondering who had worked there before. Unfortunately, he was more than sure that they had been killed at the hands—or claws, rather—of the Cresil.

"Well," Blaine said after a long time. "At least we got a free room out of it."

Kurt watched as he pushed his blade back inside his belt, the light disappearing. He looked down at his belt, the slime drying, leaving a thick, white, flaky layer on it. He grimaced and threw it down. Why was it that every time Blaine was around he lost another piece of his clothing? And not even in the way he would have liked, either. He shook his head, ridding those thoughts from his mind, then began walking towards the door.

"Let's go," he sighed.

                                                                      ***

"You were supposed to take that left," Kurt said in a bewildered tone. He'd told him to turn left, he had simply ignored it. "What are you doing?"

"I'm pretty sure," Blaine began, as he turned right, much to Kurt's dismay. "That there are about sixty million quotes," he went on, turning right again. "About detours in that pretty little head of yours."

Kurt said nothing, just gave Blaine an incredulous look. 

"Don't look at me like that," Blaine chuckled. "It'll be fine."

"But the map—"

"Screw the map," Blaine said, with a grin. "Come on. Tell me a quote about detouring."

Kurt sighed, because he couldn't resist it when someone asked him to provide  quote, no matter how badly he wanted to argue.

"Um," he shook his head, trying to choose a good one. "'It is not down in any map; true places never are.'"

Blaine smiled as he deviated yet another right turn.

"See, I knew there was one in there," he looked thoughtful. "Dickens?"

"Nope."

"Stevenson."

Kurt shook his head.

"I don't know," Blaine murmured. "Einstein?"

Kurt laughed at that. Einstein. Only Blaine.

"Herman Melville," he provided.

Blaine nodded.

"I was going to say him next."

"Of course."

Kurt sighed again and flung the map onto the back seat. Apparently, they didn't need it any more.

"So, what's the plan once we get there? I mean," Kurt said, pointedly. "If we get there."

Blaine snorted, "We'll get there," he assured Kurt. "And the plan is, we go find some place to stay, then we go find my friend."

"And your friend is?"

Kurt realised that Blaine hadn't said much about this friend, or rather this 'source' as he had called it previously. He hoped this friend did not translate as distant boyfriend, because by the Angel, would that be awkward.

"She lives at the New York Institute," he said, simply.

Kurt felt a pang of relief, then scolded himself for being relieved over something so petty and small.

"Does she have a name, this friend?"

"Isabelle," Blaine informed Kurt, this time turning left. "Isabelle Lightwood."

"As in Robert Lightwood?"

Blaine nodded and pulled down his window, his hair now moving slightly in the gentle breeze.

"Her dad."

"So, you've been to New York before," Kurt said, with a nod, but Blaine shook his head. "No?"

"No," Blaine repeated. "I met Izzy in Idris. We dated."

Kurt almost choked on air, when Blaine said that.

"You dated?" he couldn't help spluttering, but his heart had begun to race at the idea of this girl being a possible ex, which could possibly have entailed Blaine still having feelings, despite his claim of being gay.

Blaine was grinning secretively now and Kurt wanted to smack his arm and make him tell him.

"Well, maybe dated is pushing it. It only lasted for about 15 minutes," he told him and Kurt's mind started thinking filthy thoughts, which he pushed all the way in the back. "It was when we were about 14. We made out near Lake Lyn and she pulled away and told me I was gay."

Kurt's look of terror and confusion converted to amusement, as he watched Blaine tell this ridiculous yarn.

"Which wasn't exactly news to me," Blaine went on. "I just sort of brushed it off, what with the Clave and the law and all.."

Blaine trailed off, with a frown and Kurt realised he was frowning, too. The Clave really did suck, big time.

"And you guys remained friends?" Kurt asked in an endeavour to break the awkward silence.

"Yeah," he said, smiling again. "We haven't spoken in a long time, but it should all work out. She knows everyone."

Kurt nodded and the two remained silent for a long time, just listening to the sound of the soft breeze sifting through the car window, feeling it cool against their faces, in their hair. The road was virtually empty, the odd car coming or going every so often. They came to a junction then, two roads, going in separate directions. Blaine slowed the car.

"Choose a road."

Kurt stared at him, but Blaine only gave him an encouraging nod. He looked back to the roads, one seemingly new and which probably lead to a highway, the other dark and narrow, which probably lead to a dark forest. He thought about it for a long time.

"'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less travelled by,'" Kurt uttered, unable to resist.

Blaine grinned and turned onto the darker road, then spoke, finishing where Kurt left off.

"'And that has made all the difference.'"