The Andersons of Westerville
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The Andersons of Westerville: The Darkness Beckons


M - Words: 1,103 - Last Updated: May 14, 2014
Story: Closed - Chapters: 6/? - Created: May 13, 2014 - Updated: May 13, 2014
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Author's Notes:

GASP! What in the world would happen next? Im sorry! I know this is pathetically short, but Im trying to restructure a lot of my stories and this one was included, so any of my previously pre-written chapters are officially scrapped. I still want to know how you feel about this chapter. I promise that the next one will be longer by a mile. Up next: Chapter 7: The Return –We get to see what will become of Rachel. Kurt and the other occupants of the loft encounter another dilemma and a little private moment between Kurt and Blaine –Dont miss it! In the mean time, feel free to send a review/ comment my way. I love them. Like seriously LOVE them. See you in the following social media platforms as well:


FACEBOOK: C.M. Oliver is Eastwoodgirl (#cmoliverfanfiction)


FFNet: C.M. Oliver is Eastwoodgirl


Twitter: C.M. Oliver (a.t.)heyitschesca (#cmoliverfanfiction)


Tumblr: klaineloveandsnarrydreams (#cmoliverfanfiction)


Until then –C.

Chapter 6: The Darkness Beckons


The succeeding month after Finns death became a comfortable blur to Kurt. He had thrown himself headfirst to training when he wasnt spending time with Carole or Rachel back in Ohio. He had been a reliable sounding-board to both, sometimes, even at the expense of keeping in his own grief regarding the death of his brother in all but blood.


But throughout the whole ordeal, no matter how strong the front that Kurt presented to the world, at night, when all was quiet and still, he spilled his innermost thoughts to the one person he could trust to always be there for him and not judge any of his shortcomings.


Blaine was hurting too, for the loss of s good friend, but he knew his pain was of no comparison to what his fiancé was feeling –and to think that Kurt was always putting others first –of course, the countertenor had to have the strongest support he could get on his own. For a whole month straight, nobody but Blaine had been witness to Kurts breakdowns. In the stillness of each night, Kurt would rush through his moisturizing routine and slip on his favorite navy silk pajamas and curl up on his side of the bed. Blaine would slip behind him wordlessly then wrap his arms around the taller young man and hold him tight like there was no tomorrow. In the security of Blaines embrace, Kurt would then finally allow himself the release he had been denying himself in the day. Blaine would occasionally lose his own control and join in Kurts cries of loss. In that somber tableau was how they couple would spend the wee hours of the day.


The 30th day in, however, ushered in a marked change in one Kurt Hummel.


It was an overcast day in June. New York had yet to fully rouse from the past night, but Kurt was already up, dressed in his immaculate outfit of a pale blue button-down, white jeans and a navy waistcoat. He was humming softly under his breath as he flipped pancakes on the non-stick skillet he had insisted on getting for their apartment. Behind him, the breakfast table was set. This was the scene that Charlie had walked on. Next to Kurt, she was the earliest to rise, followed by Blaine, then Prue and Tempy (when they were there) and lastly, Cooper. The diminutive brunette rubbed her eyes as if in disbelief.


"Kurt? What are you doing? Its only 6 –isnt it my turn to make breakfast?" After the tragedy that had befallen, the rest of the occupants of the Manhattan Suite decided to take turns preparing food so as not to overwhelm Kurt. Charlie usually managed something that was up to the countertenors standards, and so did Blaine, when he was being enthusiastic. Coopers turn meant Fruit Loops and Honey-Nut Cheerios. Kurt turned to the youngest Anderson and smiled.


"I just felt like cooking today. No reason. Come sit. Im almost done with this anyway. I was thinking we could go shopping today. After all, we wont be able to sneak out once Prue and Tempy throw us back into the rigors of training." Charlie took a seat but eyed Kurt warily.


"Kurt –"


"Good morning," Blaines voice came as he entered the kitchen. He yawned as he stretched his sore muscles. He groggily went up to Kurt and gave him a chaste peck on the lips before sitting next to Charlie. When he had finally rouse though, he noticed the peculiar scene. "Kurt? Why are you making breakfast? And why are you dressed up?"


"Well, youre taking me shopping," Kurt smiled softly as he handed Blaine a plate of pancakes. "I think we could all do with a little trip outside before Prue and Tempy come back and put us under Martial Law again –"


"Kurt, no one is making you go back to training," Blaine pointed out. "We understand if you need more time –"


"THERE IS NO MORE TIME!" Kurt spat out suddenly, his pale blue eyes darkening to a steely gray. "How –How can I just sit down and mope all day and pretend that nothing happened? Finn was killed by –THEM, Blaine. My brother was murdered by those horrible witches –and Im tired of crying every night wishing that he werent dead when there is something that I could do!"


"Kurt –"


"I am tired of just waiting for those stupid Illustrati to make a move!" Kurts eyes brimmed with tears, the sweet saline making twin rivers on his cheeks. "Im tired of just reacting! Its Finn now, whos next? Carole? My Dad? You?" Kurt sobbed. "I cannot lose anymore of you! I –I wont be able to take it…"


"Oh, Kurt…" Blaine crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around a sobbing Kurt. "Shh… Sweetie, I promise you wont lose anymore of us. Especially me, okay?"


"I want to make them pay, Blaine –I want to make them hurt so bad." Kurt cried into Blaines shirt. "They took my mom, and now, my brother –I –I need to make them pay!"


"Its alright Babe," cooed Blaine. "Well get them for this, I promise." The two Andersons exchanged looks. Charlie nodded and left to make a phone call to Ohio.


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In a small apartment in London, a small, shivering form tried to back away from an advancing, cloaked figure.


"Who –who are you?" The soft soprano voice of a young woman shook as he pressed herself against the wall behind her, trying to make herself as small as she possibly could. "What –what do you need from me?"


The cloaked figure kept coming closer, until they were but a few inches apart. The young woman thought she could see a pair of pale, evilly curved lips from beyond the hood. A dark shadow covered the eyes belonging to the mysterious face.


"I killed your beloved you know?"


"What?" The young woman clutched her heart. This monster killed her soulmate. "You –HOW COULD YOU?"


The cloaked figure chuckled.


"We can bring him back, if you want."


"What –you –how?" The young woman was mow listening, whatever loathing she had felt for the figure, quickly dissipating. "There is a way? You would bring him back?"


"Yes," the figure nodded sincerely. "I can give him back to you and more –I can give you everything you could ever want: fame, stardom –name it, its yours."


"What do you need from me?" Her voice shook less now, her eyes clouding with unmistakable desire… finally, a chance for all of her dreams to come true. The figure reached out, and with a cold, bony hand, caressed the young womans trembling lips.


"Join us, Rachel Berry. The Great Selene beckons thee."


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