As far as lazy days go, this is by far the laziest Lucy Hummel-Anderson has ever experienced in her short eight years of existence. She usually enjoys spending time at her grandfathers' nursing home, but because of the ghastly rainstorm spreading havoc through the city, there isn't much to do; they can't go for a walk, they can't go to the theater, and they can't go to the pool. There is absolutely nothing to do!

Lucy sighs, and walks up to her grandfather, who rocks back and forth in his rocking chair. She can't tell if he's asleep or not, because even though his eyes are closed, his lips still move ever so slightly. This is a habit of his, this storytelling while sleeping, but Lucy has never had the heart to ask whether or not he's actually asleep.

“Grandpa B?” she whines, and watches as her grandfather's hazel eyes open and his mouth turns into a smile.

“What is it princess?” he asks in response.

“Grandpa, I think I'm dying,” Lucy announces. Her grandfather raises one bushy grey eyebrow, and she continues explaining. “I'm dying of boredom, Grandpa!”

Somewhere in the sitting area, someone stirs. An old man with wrinkled pale skin and a receding gray hairline sits up on the couch. Blaine quickly stands to his feet, eager to help his ailing husband, but he's just brushed off with a grumble.

Kurt stands up and shakily hobbles over to the window. Rain crashes to the ground in angry waves, blurring anything two feet in front of the window. While most people would be discouraged about the storm, Kurt instead smiles and mumbles, “The last time I saw a storm like this something miraculous happened.” He turns to the strange man with curly hair that always seems to be there to help him, and though he knows that Kurt doesn't remember him, Blaine smiles.

“I remember that day,” Blaine murmurs, lost in his thoughts.

Soon the old couple are slipping into their memories, remembering the good times.

“Lucy,” Kurt says with a twinkle in his eye so bright, you could probably light up the entire world, “would you like me to tell you a story?”

Lucy perks up and nods her head quickly. “Yes, please! I love your stories, Grandpa.”

Kurt sits in his armchair and stares at his granddaughter, who leaps into Blaine's lap. They both wait patiently for him to begin this story, one that Lucy has never heard before, and one that Blaine knows all too well. As she waits quietly, Blaine rocks back and forth in the rocking chair. They both watch Kurt look out the window, smiling as if being transported into a new world.

“Lucy,” Kurt begins quietly, “I'm going to tell you the story about how we saved the world.”

“Kurt, please wait! I can explain!”

Blaine stumbled after his husband, struggling to keep pace with him. Kurt was storming ahead, nearly running forward. Blaine had to dodge tree branches, he tripped over rocks and twigs. Meanwhile, Kurt was barrelling through the forest as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint.

“Please talk to me,” Blaine shouted. “I'm sorry!”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Sorry doesn't cut it, Blaine!” he called over his shoulder. He took a sudden sharp turn left; he didn't know where it would take him, or where he was even going. All he was aware of was the bubbling anger towards Blaine.

“Kurt, come on,” Blaine pleaded. “You're overreacting!” Just then, he felt a cold drop of water fall on his nose. He looked up at the sky. Judging by the dark clouds swirling angrily overhead, a storm was coming. Kurt was too busy fuming to notice.

“It's going to rain, Kurt!” Blaine panted, nearly out of breath. “Let's go back, then we can talk, okay?”

Kurt scoffed. This trip was supposed to celebrate their anniversary. They had rented a little cottage somewhere upstate. The idea had been romantic at first--two nights in a chalet secluded deep in the woods, where they they could bask in each other's company, doing whatever they wanted whenever they pleased. All had been going well, until Blaine revealed that he had been asked to help Doctors Without Borders in Africa for a month. Kurt would have been happy and excited for Blaine to go and help people, if it weren't for the detail that Blaine was leaving in a week, and that he hadn't told Kurt for about three weeks since the deal had been finalized.

Perhaps he was overreacting just a tad. But how else could he respond to his husband's sudden news of departure, and on their anniversary, too!

Suddenly Kurt felt a raindrop land on his head, and his eyes cut up to the clouds. The sky was now an ugly mixture of purple and gray. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering when the weather took such a turn for the worst. He yelped suddenly when his foot got snagged on something, sending him tumbling to the ground.

“Kurt!” Blaine yelled, running to help his fallen husband. He crouched down beside him, his eyebrows knit together as he examined Kurt. His hand hovered over Kurt's arm, and Kurt propped himself up, wincing. His fingers reached for his forehead, leaving them stained crimson. The sight of his own blood made him queasy.

“You're bleeding,” Blaine mused, as if it weren't obvious. “We need to get you back to the cottage so I can look at it.”

He helped Kurt back up on his feet. Kurt grimaced at him and muttered, “Lucky me, I'm married to a doctor.”

“Yes, lucky you. Now,” Blaine slipped his cardigan off his shoulders and handed it to Kurt, “wrap this around your head until we get back.”

Kurt reluctantly took the cardigan and tied it around his forehead. Blaine led him back to the cottage, his eyes observing the sky and praying that the rain would let up until they got back. They both jumped at the sudden crack of thunder booming through the forest. The wind began to howl through the branches, whipping the leaves on the tree against each other. Kurt help on to the cardigan around his forehead and Blaine rested his hand on the small of his back tentatively.

From the corner of his eye, Blaine saw something whip forwards. He turned his head to look, but there was nothing. As they kept walking, Blaine reassured himself that they were almost at the cottage, and that it was in the middle of nowhere. There wouldn't be any sane person out in the woods before a storm. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed.

Kurt felt it, too. He thought he heard a third pair of footsteps  behind them,and he whipped his head over his shoulder.

That's when he screamed.

Blaine turned to see what was wrong. He felt the blood drain from his face as he laid his eyes on what had made Kurt scream.

“What is that?” he wondered out loud.

There was a statue of an old and worn out angel five feet away from them, its face buried in its hands. Behind it was another, its arms raised as if to reach out to them. Their piercing stone eyes bore into Kurt and Blaine like daggers, pinning them in their place so they were unable to move. Blaine blinked once, hoping that it was a strange dream, and after the millisecond which his eyes opened again, the statues had moved closer.

Kurt gripped onto Blaine's arm. “Blaine, they're moving closer,” he whimpered, his whole body trembling.

“I-Uh, just stay calm.” Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat. “I'm sure that this is just a prank or something.”

Blaine blinked again and yelped, nearly sending himself and Kurt to the pine-covered ground. The angel statutes had come closer yet again, this time bearing fangs. Kurt could feel his heart slamming against his chest. This couldn't be happening. These statutes obviously weren't a prank, and if they were some person's idea of a sick joke, Kurt would probably murder them.

Both of them wanted to move, but they were frozen in place with fear. They were going to die, they could feel it. These weird angel statue things seemed to be from a different planet, like monsters, and they would sink their teeth into Kurt and Blaine's necks. They were sure the park ranger would find them the next morning in the middle of the forest, the blood in their veins drained out like an empty juice box.

Kurt felt like crying. His anniversary weekend was not supposed to end up like this. He wanted to shut his eyes and sob, but a voice stopped him.

“Don't blink. Whatever you do, do. Not. Blink.”