"Oh god, Kurt," Blaine moaned against his collarbone, snapping his hips forward. Kurt just held on tightly to his shoulders, panting--

Kurt buried his head beneath his blankets as he startled awake, heart racing. He curled up beneath the covers and waited for his body to calm down while doing his best not to fall asleep again.

The dreams were getting more intense and vivid. And while he was glad for the reprieve from wide haunting eyes, long dark matted hair, and a crooked smile, he found that sleeping in til one and waking with his body aching and wanting was counterproductive.

He pulled off his blanket and shakily walked to the shower, intent on getting rid of his little problem.

***

At seven, he was panicking. 

He'd never been on a date before and he had no idea what he was supposed to wear. He dug through his entire--admittedly small--wardrobe to find the perfect combination and he was failing miserably.

He'd narrowed it down to red pants. That was all he could definitively decide on. 

With a sigh he headed to the master bedroom to dig through some of his grandfather's stuff. The search proved fruitless until he stumbled across a box in the back corner and he took it out, blowing dust off of it to make out the thin silver lettering.

Charlotte Suzanne Waldorf

His great-grandmother.

He gently lifted the lid and blinked at the glittering items displayed before him. It was her jewelry box. He ran his fingers gently over the earrings and bracelets and necklaces before lifting the tray to look in the area beneath. An assortment of brooches glittered back at him and he glanced back at the door nervously before selecting one and shoving the box back into the closet, hurrying back to his room.

***

At a quarter til eight, he finally settled on an outfit. Red pants, elbow-length white dress shirt, snug black vest and his great-grandmother's ruby lobster brooch pinned over his breast pocket. He selected a dark green pea coat and went downstairs, fingers and legs jittery with nerves.

As the clock began to chime at eight, there was a knock at the door. Kurt took a deep breath and opened it, making sure his hair was in place. 

Blaine stood on the porch with a pleasant smile, sporting smart oxford shoes, rolled khaki slacks, a gray-blue dress shirt and an adorable cardigan with lobsters all over it. Kurt felt his lips curling at the sight of it.

"Good evening," Blaine said with a slight smile. "I trust you've been well since we last parted?"

Kurt opened his mouth right when his mind decided to flashback to the dream he had last night. "I--um," he blushed. "Yes. Very well. And you?"

"Very well, thank you," Blaine replied cordially, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

Kurt smiled politely and took his hand, closing the door firmly shut behind him.

***

"Here's your lobster, sir."

"Thank you," Blaine nodded to the waitress as the large red crustacean was set in front of Kurt.

"Wow," Kurt muttered, staring at his dinner. "You weren't kidding about this place pulling out all the stops." 

The restaurant was in a small little cozy nook on the bay--upscale yet relaxed. The nearest parking spot was four blocks away--it was a Saturday night after all--and they'd had to rush through the oncoming snow to get inside relatively un-drenched. 

"It's one of the most underrated restaurants in the city," Blaine smiled as Kurt started cracking open the lobster tail, fingers clumsy at the newness of the task. 

"Are you sure you don't want some?" Kurt questioned, tearing off a chunk of moist white flesh and dipping it into the small bowl of melted butter. "I'm not entirely sure I can eat all of this by myself..." His stomach said otherwise as he took a bite of the lobster and his eyes rolled back into his head at the taste. 

"Yeah, I'm sure," Blaine said, eyes glued to Kurt's fingers moving back and forth to his mouth. "I have a restrictive diet so I'm not afforded such luxuries."

"Then why would you take me here?" Kurt questioned, feeling slightly guilty as he took another obscenely large bite of lobster. "If you can't even eat?"

"Just to see that look on your face when you took your first bite," Blaine smiled, cupping his neck as he leant on the table and watched Kurt eat. "And let me assure you: It was well worth it."

Kurt smiled shyly back with his cheeks full before swallowing. "So...you said you'd answer some of my questions?"

Blaine nodded silently.

Kurt wiped the greasy butter off of his fingers and settled back into his chair. Then he changed his mind and kept eating because really, the lobster was way too delicious for its own good. "How did you arrange to escort me last night?"

Blaine's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Really? That's your first question."

"Well, I'm trying to start small," Kurt insisted, chomping away happily. 

Blaine nodded. "Well, I came last night to dance at least a dance with you, as I'd stated, and I was pondering on how exactly I could get you to accept said proposal when I overheard the young Mr. Harrington bribing the announcer to add his name to the roster in lieu of yours. So I merely did some bribing of my own and I ended up as your escort."

"Okay," Kurt mumbled as he sucked the last of the meat out of the lobster, wiping his messy face on the white linnen napkin. "How did you know my name when we met in the...meadow? I hadn't introduced myself."

Blaine's eyes flickered in the low light. "We'd met a long time ago."

Kurt frowned. "When--"

"Your dessert, sir."

Kurt stared as a large slice of chocolate...something was placed in front of him by the waitress. "Oh my god, what?"

"Chocolate Godiva cheesecake," Blaine smiled, folding his hands. "I though maybe you'd enjoy it."

Kurt took a bite and groaned, quickly taking another. "But it's so good..."

"That's generally the idea," Blaine laughed as he licked his lips.

"But all this food is so rich," Kurt half-protested as he took another bite. "I swear you're trying to fatten me up for something."

Blaine laughed, the sound resonating through the restaurant. "No, I just wanted to see you looking healthy again. You were looking like you were on your deathbed for a while there..."

Kurt snorted. "What, all two times you saw me?"

"You left an impression," Blaine shrugged.

Kurt smiled and took another bite. He ate half of it before sitting back in his chair. "Okay, that was a good distraction, but I still have questions."

"I'm at your disposal," Blaine said, leaning forward.

Kurt fiddled with his fingers. "Tell me about the well."

Blaine's jaw clenched slightly and he looked off to the side. "That's...a long story."

"Does it have to do with the lighthouse?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Yes."

"And you?"

"Yes."

"And...me?"

Blaine looked back at him. "More than you know."

"Tell me."

Blaine sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "I could tell you," he said slowly. "But...it wouldn't all make sense, especially here and now. Could I maybe...show you instead?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt frowned, leaning forward.

"Come back to my house," Blaine said urgently. "There are...props and other things that will help with the explanation. There's a lot of my family history that goes into this story." He stared into Kurt's eyes intently, in that odd non-blinking way that he often did. "Will you come with me?"

Kurt found himself nodding.

Blaine gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you for trusting me." He slid a credit card on the table. "Finish your cheesecake while I get the car. I don't want you catch a cold walking through that storm."

Kurt nodded happily as he dug back into his cheesecake and watched Blaine get up smoothly and leave. He frowned slightly as he caught sight of Blaine's ankles--he wasn't wearing any socks. In fact, he never really wore any socks. Kurt took another bite of cheesecake and worried. He didn't want Blaine to get snow in his shoes and for his feet to be cold.

He took a sip of water before his eyes widened and he dropped the glass. It fell to the floor and smashed, drenching his calves.

That odd feeling he'd had in the back of his neck since that day the field hockey team had chased him across town came back as memories flashed before his mind.

Walking out to wear the stranger--Blaine, it had been Blaine--had been standing below the lighthouse, at the Anderson mansion, out in the meadow by the well with Blaine when they'd had their conversation, walking back to his house, even Blaine dropping him off last night, and now walking to the restaurant from his car, there had been one thing that he hadn't noticed consciously but had been bugging him in the back of his mind for the past week. There was one thing that was incredibly and terribly wrong.

Blaine had never left footprints in the snow.

Despite the warm rich meal that he'd just consumed, Kurt felt suddenly and horrifically cold. He glanced around, panicked, before grabbing his coat and running out of the restaurant, heading for the bus stop which was gratefully in the opposite direction of where Blaine had parked his car. Kurt buttoned up his coat as he ran, holding an arm up against the thick snow that was falling, a rumble off in the distance. It was going to be a thunder snowstorm. 

Part of him wanted to turn back and find Blaine and demand answers but the much larger part of him was running on full-blown terror and honestly didn't want to know what Blaine had to say, he just wanted to get the hell out of here, maybe he'd head out of town and go to Boston for the weekend or--

Something hit him hard on the back of his head and he went crashing down into the sidewalk.

"Look what we have here, boys!" A familiar voice laughed and as if his night couldn't get any worse, Scott Harrington and the rest of the field hockey team crowded around him, all of them leaning slightly and stumbling against each other. "Itty bitty Hummel, strutting around Provincetown late at night! You know, Hummel. We never did get that practice, did we?"

"And we just had our first loss of the season," another one--Humphrey?--said, swinging his stick around. "If only you'd helped us out with that practice, we might have gotten a perfect record this season."

"Instead you ran off, shirking your duties," Williams muttered darkly as Kurt tried to get to his feet. 

He received a swift kick to the ribs for his effort.

"And then," Scott sighed. "I swoop in as Kitty's savior, rescuing her from the horrors of the town freak and hoping that she'll be thankful and pay me back in kind--" There was lecherous laughter all about. "--but no. She was too furious that she was upstaged by you who managed to get escorted by a fucking duke."

Scott swung hard and smacked Kurt in the side of his head with his stick and the others quickly followed suit. Kurt threw his arms over his head which left his stomach exposed for sharp kicks. Someone hit the middle of his spine hard and he screamed out which only seemed to spur them on more. 

There was a brief reprieve as Kurt coughed up blood into the snow before Scott grabbed him by his hair and hauled his head up. He punched him across the face. Then again. And again. And again. And--

"ARGH!"

It happened fast and Kurt missed it because he blinked. But he saw Scott's hand hanging in front of him. It was still gripping his hair, but it was also detached from Scott's body.

Kurt tore the hand from his hair, backing away in the freezing snow as he looked up.

The field hockey players were panicking because one by one they were being torn apart. it was too fast and everything was a blur, but in a matter of seconds, Kurt was sitting in blood-drenched snow, halves and thirds of bodies littering the sidewalk all around him, flesh completely ripped apart. 

There was a choked-off gurgling noise and Kurt looked up to see Scott, handless and eyes wide, quickly losing their light, twitching violently with some...thing burrowed in his throat, slurping noisily. 

Kurt's breath was coming in quick bursts, unable to get a full deep breath as his heart hammered in his chest as he saw Scott's eyes go dim.

Finally, the dark curly-haired...thing lifted its head from Scott's neck.

Blaine's face was smeared with blood, his eyes completely black as he smiled at Kurt, revealing fangs.

"Oops."