-Stonebrook, Virginia-

This was not Brad Chan's night.

He chanced a quick look over his shoulder as his feet pounded the pavement, breathing heavily. The alley was too dark to see, but Brad didn't slow down. No way.

An empty can almost tripped him, and Brad's heart lurched at the sudden clang, but he managed to stay upright. Blood thudded in his ears and his chest hurt with every sharp breath. A sudden howl behind him froze him in place.

"Oh, dear God, please, no," Brad whispered. With wild eyes, he looked behind once, then took off. He dodged trashcans and garbage bags, blind to his path. He just had to keep moving.

Then the growls started. And the pants. Brad whimpered. It was right behind him, oh God. Brad found a reserve of energy and pushed harder, ignoring the screaming muscles in his calves and another howl as he turned another corner.

He faced a wall.

"Oh, fuck," Brad stared at the wall in disbelief. No, no, no…

The bricks were solid and offered no handholds. Brad helplessly pounded on the wall, as if it would shatter with sheer will. Both neighboring doors were locked. Brad screamed and cried, but no one came.

"HELP ME!" Brad tried not to cry, but tears leaked out anyway. Christ, he was too fucking young to die. He turned to face the alley when it padded into view.

Brad shook his head and mouthed no, but only growls and a bark of triumph answered him. Brad screamed as his throat was torn out, the blood coating the ground. The alley fell quiet, with only the sound of ripping flesh and growls permeating the night air.

After leaving New York, Kurt and Blaine fell back into their usual routine. Travelling across the country and hunting monsters.

Neither mentioned Kurt's magic. Or angels. Or Sebastian.

Kurt began having nightmares again. Regular, non-demonic ones. Not that it made a difference when he woke up screaming and crying into Blaine's chest and then avoiding it in the morning. After a few weeks with no mention of a war or demons, though, they faded. They saw Puck occasionally. Just for a quick check up. Puck had started to drop hints that Kurt should start practicing with his powers, but Kurt ignored him. Blaine usually had to convince Puck to leave soon after.

By the time February rolled around, Kurt was a master at avoiding certain topics. Blaine knew it was going to bite them in the ass soon, but the second he mentioned talking to Santana or even the damn Roadhouse, Kurt clammed up and refused to talk until Blaine apologized.

They needed allies. Whether Kurt liked it or not, they could not avoid angels and demons by themselves. They needed back up. Like Santana. Or even Sue Sylvester. But Kurt was so damn stubborn that Blaine, more than once, considered just tying Kurt down and calling everyone against his wishes.

But this was Kurt's battle, not Blaine's, so he remained patient. Mostly.

"Santana texted me this morning."

Kurt hummed noncommittally from the passenger seat. He was reading the hunting journal.

Blaine sighed. "She's working a job in Virginia. This guy was found mutilated in the middle of a city last night. Looks like an animal attack." No answer. "I might have told her we'd head over to give her some back up."

"No."

"Kurt—"

"No!" Kurt snapped the journal shut and glared. "We can't get anyone else involved with this."

Blaine gripped the steering wheel. Always the same arguments, over and over. "You're being—God, Kurt. We can't do this by ourselves!"

But Kurt just shook his head. "No. I can't put anyone else in danger! It's bad enough that you're here, why the fuck would I let more people near me when I could kill them inside of a minute?" His eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut.

Clearly, that wasn't meant to slip out. And the phrasing was…worrisome. But that was for another time. Right now, he needed Kurt to let down a few walls. Blaine laughed quietly. "Christ, Kurt, you can be so stupid sometimes."

Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line and ignored Blaine for the passing Pennsylvania countryside.

He had to approach this right. "Kurt…they're our friends. They should be allowed to help us." No response. Blaine took in the tensed shoulders and set expression. "Look, can we tell Santana? She's my best friend; I don't like lying to her." Kurt sighed. It was a reaction, though. "She'll kill us if she finds out later, anyway." Blaine smiled when Kurt chuckled. "I promise you. We want Santana on our side."

Kurt glared again, but rolled his eyes. "Fine. We can talk to her. But we give her a chance to walk away."

"Deal." Blaine grinned at Kurt until he was forced to pay attention to the road. He flipped on thw radio and smiled slightly at the weird coincidence.

I see the bad moon arisin'
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today

"Why is Santana looking into this if it's just an animal attack?" Kurt asked.

"Glove compartment. There's a file." Blaine waited for Kurt to get it out before continuing. "It's the third attack in two months. The police think it's an animal, but there's no reason for a wolf or a bear to be in the middle of a city without anyone seeing. Also, we checked the lunar calendar."

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath when he saw their conclusions. "The attacks happened on full moons?" He glanced up.

"Yeah." Blaine nodded. "There's two more nights left in this cycle, so we have to work fast. And three sets of eyes are better than one." Blaine watched Kurt's brows furrow as he read. "I'd brush up on your werewolf lore."

Groaning softly, Kurt pulled out the journal. "I still cannot believe this is my life," he mumbled. "Werewolves."

Well, don't go around tonight
Well, it's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise

-Stonebrook, Virginia-

"Who did yous say you were again?" Deputy Alex Chapman narrowed his eyes at the strange men in his crime scene. The alley gave him the creeps. Twenty years on the force; and he'd never seen such a brutal attack. Or had the feds jump on a case this fast.

The shorter one stood over his partner, all solemn-like. "Park rangers, sir," he said with a short nod. "I'm Ranger Royal, this is Ranger Walker." The one with the really tight pants and tall hair raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the wide pool of blood. He had nice boots on, Alex noticed. Too nice for the woods outside town. Christ, they let anyone into the government these days. No wonder bin Laden was kicking their asses.

"Uh huh." Alex eyed them suspiciously. But the badges the rangers had flashed earlier looked legitimate. And honestly, he wanted no part of this case. It looked dangerous. Maybe mobsters had come down his little Virginia town to scare someone. Hell no, he wasn't messing with mobsters. He had grandkids.

The rangers combed the crime scene thoroughly, taking notes and conversing quietly. Alex watched them in silence, musing about the poor kid. Some jogger had called it in that morning. He was hysterical, kept talking about how much blood there was. Alex shivered in the afternoon breeze. The other two attacks hadn't been nearly this messy. He hoped these clowns could catch whatever the hell was loose soon. Maybe it was a dog.

"Deputy? Sir?" The curly one flagged him over. "I just had a few questions about—"

"Officer!"

Alex and Royal looked up to see a smoking hot woman wave at them from her car. Christ Almighty, but some Latinas were gorgeous. Alex open stared at her deep black hair and mile-long legs. And those heels. The woman sent him a sultry smile as she slinked up to him. The ranger cursed under his breath, but Alex ignored him. Sure he had a wife and two kids, but there was no harm in looking. And the dress was tight and short with a low neckline, so she clearly had no issues with gawkers.

"Hi, I'm Maria Estanza." The woman batted her eye lashes and Alex just blinked before remembering to shake her offered hand. "I'm a reporter with Weird World News Weekly, and I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the body found here earlier?"

Alex drew himself up and puffed out his chest.'Course, miss, I'd be glad to. Freedom of the press and all." Curly Hair rolled his eyes and Tight Pants snickered, but Alex ignored them. Maria just laughed and guided him a few feet away. "What 'cha wanna know?"

Maria turned into all business, though her voice stayed flirty. "Who was the victim?"

"Brad Chan. Twenty-nine years old. He worked as an accountant over on Locust with the Durham firm." Alex silently preened. He hadn't even needed his notebook.

The woman nodded as she scribbled something down on her pad. "What was the cause of death?"

Alex nodded towards the bloodstain where the two rangers still stood. "Massive blood loss. No idea what do it though; coroner thinks some kind of animal. But I've never heard of a wolf this far into the city, so it's probably a rabid dog or something."

Little noises of agreement slipped out as Maria wrote. When she looked up, she smiled. "Thank you, sir, you been so helpful," she purred. "But…" Maria bit her deep red lips and pouted slightly. "I really need an extra detail to really give my story the wow! Factor, you know? Something to…make me stand out." She ran a finger up his chest until she tapped his badge. Alex swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as a bone. "And I bet you are just the man to help out a poor, struggling little Puerto Rican girl, right?" Her wide brown eyes blinked innocently.

Oh, he was going to get in so much trouble. Alex licked his lips nervously. "W-well, there is one thing we've been keeping out of the papers."

Maria gave a gasp of delight and pressed closer.

"I'm not really supposed to tell, but you'll keep my name out of the papers, right?" Alex couldn't believe what he was doing. But there was cleavage right in his face oh God. How could he resist?

"Of course."

"None of the bodies had hearts." Alex breathed. Maria stiffened and looked at him with a shocked face before her expression morphed back into a flirty temptress. It was so fast, Alex hardly saw. But then she pulled away and snapped her notebook shut.

"Thanks for the help, Watson." She said abruptly before walking back to her car. It was a sleek machine, as red as her dress and looked fast to boot. Must be some reporter. "Bye, Tweedledees!"

She twiddled her fingers at the rangers and slipped into her car, laughing as the shorter one yelled back "RANGERS!" Alex walked up just as he muttered some vague threats. "Swear to God, she's gonna regret that…"

"Still in public, partner," the other said breezily before smiling at Alex. "I think we're done here. Thank you for all the help, and please call us if you learn anything new about this case." He handed Alex a crisp business card. "We'll be touch."

As the strange men walked away, Alex glanced down at the card. Ranger Fred Walker. He lifted an eyebrow. Weird folk; men from the woods.

And was that Mustang standard issue?

"Jeez, Santana, what part of 'subtle' was hard for you to understand?" Blaine snapped the second she opened the motel door. He brushed by her, rolling his eyes and dumping his bag on one of the beds.

Santana smirked and stepped aside for Kurt. "He always this crabby?"

"Only when dealing with you." Kurt smiled and dropped his bag next to the door before wrapping Santana in a hug. "Good to see you again," he said into her shoulder.

She blinked, but patted his back awkwardly. "You getting soft on me, Hummel?"

Kurt laughed and pushed her away. Blaine had collapsed face down on one of the beds. He groaned happily when Kurt sat next to him and rubbed his back.

"Okay, there were developments here, and you didn't call me," Santana interrupted, eyebrow raised. She jumped on Blaine's bed and poked his side viciously. "Talk to me, hobbit!"

Blaine blindly grabbed for a pillow and swatted her. Santana dodged the pillow and grabbed her own, whacking Blaine's back. "Bring it, dwarf."

"Abuse! Kurt, help!" Blaine yelled, swinging his pillow. She laughed and dodged the hit. Memories of pillow fights over the years crossed his mind, and Blaine chased her with a huge grin. God knew there was precious little to smile about lately.

Ignoring them, Kurt got the laptop set up on the room's lone table. "I am Switzerland," he called to them, but Blaine saw that fond look.

Blaine pouted, but Santana slapped him in the face with her pillow and a grin. Oh, it was on. She saw his face and bolted, but he followed, readying his attack. She shrieked when he caught her around her waist and threw her on the bed, but she was up and laughing at him a few seconds later.

Santana suddenly turned around and tackled Blaine, crashing to the floor. Blaine let out a surprised yelp as he found himself with an armful of Latina. She pinned both arms next to his head and straddled his waist with a triumphant grin. Blaine tried to throw her off, but her sharp nails dug into his wrists painfully and he fell back with a groan.

"Wow, Blaine, that was pathetic," Kurt raised an eyebrow as he looked at them on the floor. "Took her what, five minutes?" He snickered.

"Three and a half," Santana laughed, but made no move to get up.

Blaine glared from the floor. "Worst boyfriend ever," he sulked. Kurt just smiled, turning back to the laptop.

Santana rolled off of him, stretching out next to Blaine. "So…boyfriends?" she asked with a knowing smirk. Blaine groaned and covered his face, but couldn't hide his growing grin.

Boyfriends. Sweet hell, he still felt like giggling into his pillow anytime someone mentioned that fact that he, Blaine Anderson, was dating Kurt Hummel. Unconventionally, yes, but they still kissed and fucked and made love. A few less official dates than in normal relationships, but hunting ghosts tended to bring people together more than dinner and a movie anyway.

"Hummel! How long?" Santana yelled.

"Two months, one week, and three days." Kurt answered automatically. Then blushed. "I-I mean, about two months? Oh god," he dropped his head onto the table, blushing furiously.

Blaine pulled himself up and walked over to Kurt, sliding his arms around Kurt and giving him an obnoxiously big kiss on the cheek. He ignored Santana's gag. "Glad I'm not the only one keeping track," he whispered. Kurt was still red, but smiled back.

"Ugh, lovebirds. Gross." Santana wrinkled her face. She stood up and threw the scattered pillows back to the beds. "Anyway, come on. You guys owe me some explanations before we tackled this case. Why haven't I seen you in forever?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who paled. "I'm going to, um," Kurt suddenly stood up and closed the laptop, tucking it under his arm. "I'm going to go out for a few hours. To that coffee shop we saw earlier. The one on Briar?" Blaine just nodded, and Kurt smiled weakly. "I'll text you when I'm on my way back." He gave Blaine a quick peck and left, shutting the door behind him.

Santana cocked an eyebrow expectantly at Blaine. "Blaine? What's going on?"

How to explain this? Blaine sighed in the suddenly quiet room. He sat in the chair Kurt just vacated and rubbed his face, trying to figure out the best place to start. Thankfully, Santana seemed to sense his tension and stopped pushing. Instead, she pulled around the second chair and positioned it in front of Blaine, straddling the seat and resting her chin on her hands on the top of the chair's back. After a few minutes, Blaine spoke.

"Kurt's…special." Blaine said slowly.

"Well you're shagging him regularly; I'd expect he would be—"

"Shut up! Not what I meant!" Blaine cut in, blushing. "Well, I mean, yeah, he's special like that too, but—"

Santana kicked his chair leg. "Get to the point, Romeo." Santana smirked, but Blaine heard the nerves in her voice. She knew this was serious.

"Stop interrupting me, then!" Blaine glared. He ran his fingers through his hair. Kurt was trying to get him to stop, something about frizz, but it was a nervous habit. "He…he's magic."

Santana's eyebrows could have disappeared into her hair. "Magic?"

"Like…" Blaine waved his hands. "magic. I don't completely understand it; trying to get him to talk about it like pulling teeth, and Puck is fucking useless and won't talk to me at all." Blaine chanced a look at Santana. She stared at him like he was crazy, but she hadn't run away so Blaine counted that as a plus. "A lot of people are after him." Blaine looked at his feet and dropped his voice. "A demon named Sebastian, who's a real piece of work, by the way. All demons, actually. Vampires. Angels."

"Angels?" Santana repeated looking shaken. "Blaine, angels aren't real."

Blaine laughed hollowly. "They haven't been seen in a couple thousand years, but that doesn't mean they aren't real. Plus, try saying that when Puck appears on top of you at three am…" Blaine added darkly. God, that had been a memorable night. He hadn't been clothed and Puck still couldn't look Blaine in the face without laughing. He paused. "There's a war coming. And Kurt's caught in the middle of it."

Santana shook her head. "Blaine, this is insane. There's no way. What the hell have you been smoking these past couple months?"

Blaine looked her in the eye and Santana trailed off. "I think I should start from the beginning. It's a long story." He said. Santana swallowed nervously.

The coffee shop was small, but Kurt found an empty table near the back once he got his drink. The d�cor was calming, and Kurt breathed in the smell of coffee as he set up the laptop. He sighed into his hands as the computer started up.

He liked Santana; he did, he just couldn't sit there and tell her about the last few months. Kurt wasn't sure what he was more afraid of: the fear or the pity. No, letting Blaine handle the matter was the best course of action.

Kurt opened a browser and paused in the search bar. Blaine had said Santana thought the attacks might be by a werewolf, so he might as well get started on learning about them. However, typing "werewolves" into Google returned over two million hits. Kurt groaned softly. Fuck.

Fifteen minutes later, he had found a semi-reputable site and was reading about the effects of the lunar cycle when he looked up to see Puck across the table. Kurt jumped back with a yelp.

"Jesus fuck, Noah, what the hell?" Kurt snapped, trying to calm his pounding heart. Puck raised an eyebrow.

"It's Puck."

"It's 'asshole-who-sneaks-up-on-people,' that's what it is," Kurt glared. He took a sip of his cooling coffee to mask his shock. After a month and a half, he thought he'd gotten used to Puck randomly showing up. No such luck. "What are you doing here anyway?" Kurt snapped. Like he didn't already know.

Puck shrugged nonchalantly, but leaned forward and lowered his voice. No one was paying attention to them, but Kurt saw Puck's leg bouncing nervously under the table. "Look, Hummel—"

"I'm not practicing." Kurt interrupted. When was Puck going to get it; he didn't want these powers, he just wanted to be normal. Ignoring that fact he could Hulk out at any moment was his choice, not Puck's.

"Fuck, Hummel!" Puck swore angrily. "I—we—need you to. I can't guard you all the time and you need to be able to protect yourself."

Kurt watched Puck's face. Anger was there, yes, but so was fear. Like Puck was scared for him. Then he remembered what Puck was.

"You mean you need me ready. The great weapon, right? What use is it if it doesn't even know its own powers?" Kurt said bitterly. That's all he'd ever be to angels. Just another weapon in the war against hell.

Puck rubbed at his mohawk. "Christ, Kurt. You make things so difficult." He huffed when Kurt ignored him. Without warning, Puck slammed the laptop closed, brushing off Kurt's angry protests. "Why can't you believe that I have your best interests at heart?"

"Because no one but Blaine ever does." Kurt snapped. He stood up and began grabbing his things. "I'm not using my powers. Ever." Kurt wrapped the scarf around his neck and stuffed the laptop in his bag. Just as he began walking away, Puck grabbed his arm.

"Please just try. Just little things." Puck's voice was calm, shocking Kurt into silence. It was usually angry or desperate. "Now that your body knows what you can do, it'll be easier to access the magic. And easier to overdose." Kurt's blood ran cold. Puck smiled sadly. "I'm sorry this happened to you. Also, what you're hunting?" Puck gestured at Kurt's laptop bag. "Not a werewolf. But you're close."

Kurt blinked and Puck was gone. "Fucking angels," he muttered. He grabbed another cup of coffee and ordered two more for Blaine and Santana. Not werewolves? Blaine had seemed pretty certain earlier, though. Once the order was made, Kurt put the cups in a tray and carefully carried the coffee to the door. He had a feeling it'd be a long night.

Several minutes later, Kurt opened the motel door to a somber scene. Santana leaned against the bed's headboard, chewing a fingernail and reading an old book, while Blaine used her laptop. Neither spoke when Kurt walked in, though Blaine stood up and wrapped him in a hug.

"I brought coffee." Kurt held out a tray with three cups in it. He didn't look at Santana. Spilling secrets never came easily to him and asking for help was definitely difficult. He trusted Blaine, though. If Blaine thought telling people he was a freak was the best course of action…well. Kurt had been called worse before.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine shoot a look at Santana. Kurt frowned, but handed Blaine his medium drip.

"Hey, Harry Potter," Santana called out, smirking when Kurt jumped. "Bring me my coffee, wizard boy!"

Despite himself, Kurt laughed. Stupid. Why should he be so nervous around Santana? She knew plenty about being a freak herself. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but handed over the other mocha. She'd mentioned it once, and besides, everyone liked chocolate.

"What, you're just handing it to me? I expected some flying, maybe even fireworks," Santana smirked as she sipped the drink. "Shit, this is delicious,"

"Not quite that advanced, Satan." Kurt sat next to her. "Blaine filled you in?" He asked quietly.

"As best I could." Blaine watched Kurt twist his hands in his lap.

Santana gently shoved his shoulder. "Yep. Don't look so terrified, Hummel. I gots your back." The Lopez attitude was in full force. "I'm ready to go all Brooklyn on their asses."

"On whose asses?"

"Everyone's." She laughed. "Seriously, Kurt." Her voice softened. "It's a little much to wrap my head around, but you're cool and you make my boy happy. Also I've always had a problem with authority, so a little rebellion is right up my alley." Santana winked.

"Thanks, Santana," Kurt felt his throat choke up, but Santana hated affection, so he cleared it quickly. "Um, why don't we talk about Brad Chan and the other attacks? There's only about three hours until nightfall." Kurt looked at both of them. "What did you guys come up with?"

Blaine looked at Santana, who just waved her hand, gesturing for him to take the lead. "Well," Blaine started, "The MO looks like a werewolf, especially with the murders matching up to the lunar cycle." Kurt's eyes flickered over to Santana. Isn't a werewolf what almost killed Brittany? But Santana's expression was neutral. "Also, the deputy told Santana that the bodies were all missing their heart, which is very typical of werewolves."

"The only problem," Santana cut in, "is we have almost no way to track who the wolf is when it's in human form. And we don't know how many there could be because it only takes one bite to turn people." She flopped back on the bed with a sigh.

"Umm…" Kurt bit his lip. Blaine was going to be pissed. He knew how his boyfriend felt about Puck. But this was important. "Puck showed up at the coffee place." Kurt finally said. "He said it's not a werewolf. But it's similar to one."

Blaine exchanged glances with Santana. "I got nothing. You?"

Santana frowned. "It could be a Shifter. They're pretty similar; the only difference is Shifters aren't bound by the moon, and they tend to turn into regular dogs rather than full-blown wolves." She leaned back and sighed. "It could be a lycan too. Those are similar to Shifters, but turn into wolves. They gain control over shifting with practice. Lycans are extremely rare, though, no one's seen one in a couple hundred years."

"How do you know so much about werewolves?" Kurt asked wonderingly.

When Santana dropped her gaze, he wished he'd kept quiet. "I did a lot of research after Britt." She said softly.

They fell into silence.

"Wait." Kurt perked up. "I have an idea on how to track down these creatures."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and glanced at Santana.

She shrugged. "Spit it out, China. We don't got all day."

It was an hour before sundown when Blaine parked outside of a simple house in a quiet neighborhood. The sun had turned the sky a deep red.

"God, it all looks so ordinary," Kurt muttered from his side. A few cars were parked in the driveways and some houses had toys strewn across the lawn. "Do think we could be wrong?" Kurt looked at Blaine anxiously.

Blaine shrugged. "It's a solid theory." Actually, Kurt's idea was pretty brilliant. Shifters, lycans, and werewolves, especially newly made ones, almost always change during the full moon. Kurt figured that if they could check out everyone who's been bitten by an unidentified animal or dog, there was a good chance at least one of them would have been bitten by the monster. If they could figure out who was turned, they might be able to back trace to the original creature as well as learn exactly what type of werewolf they were dealing with.

As it so happened, there were only three reported bites to the hospital and Animal Control in the last month. With some help from Sam, Santana was able to hack into the records and get addresses. She would take Ren�e Esmond on the other side of town, while Blaine and Kurt checked out Paul Brinn and Joe Hart.

Paul, it turned out, was actually bitten by his friend's dog, but didn't want to report it because the dog already had a record. Another attack; and it would be put down. So now they sat outside Joe's house.

"What if we're right, though?" Kurt sounded sad. Blaine twisted to look at him. "We walk in there and tell him he's a monster. His whole life is going to end and it's not even his fault." He twisted his hands in his lap. "There's no cure, is there?"

Blaine shook his head. "No," he admitted. In all likelihood, they'd probably have to kill Joe Hart if he was no longer human. Werewolves could not be trusted with so many instincts pointing to killing innocent people. He hoped Kurt would understand.

There were times he hated being a hunter.

"Come on," Blaine said gruffly. "Let's check him out first before jumping to conclusions."

Kurt nodded silently, but was still nervous as he followed Blaine to the door. "We still Animal Control?"

"Yeah, here to check out a string of bites and to figure out if it's the same animal or not." Blaine glanced at Kurt. "I can take lead if you want." Kurt nodded gratefully, and Blaine knocked on the door.

A muffled curse and a bang came through the closed door. Kurt raised his eyebrow at Blaine. A few seconds later, a tall young man with impressive dreads opened the door.

"Hi!" He grinned brightly, slightly out of breath. He wore a tank top and baggy jeans, showing off many tattoos and a large white bandage on his left forearm. Blaine caught sight of the gold cross around his neck and swallowed. Kurt stiffened next to him. "I'm sorry, I was just cooking and meditating and you guys startled me. What's up?"

Blaine blinked. "I think whatever you're cooking is burning," he said, nose twitching from the scent of smoke.

Joe's eyes widened. "Oh shit! I'll be right back! Don't move!" he smiled apologetically and ran back into the house, leaving the door open. Kurt snorted.

"Oh my god, he's a hippie."

"What?" Blaine nudged him. "He is not. Don't be mean."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sniff. Under the smoke? He's burning incense somewhere. Not to mention his house looks like something out of the 70s. Wall hangings, Blaine. And lava lamps."

Now that Kurt mentioned it, he could see where Kurt was getting his conclusions from. The house was stuffed with knickknacks, wall hangings, and even a few hand stitched Bible verses. They looked like the friendly ones though. And if he poked his head in to see the living room, there were indeed two lava lamps as well as a shaggy carpet he recognized from his parent's old photo albums.

"You guys can come in! Shut the door behind you!" Joe called from the kitchen. With a look, Kurt stepped forward, grimacing at the overpowering incense smell. Thank god it wasn't patchouli, though, because Blaine hated that one. Blaine closed the door, before getting a better look at the house.

Even though it was a mess, Blaine liked it. It was like an organized chaos. Kurt was probably crying on the inside, though. Blaine grinned at him and walked through the living room towards Joe's voice, stopping in the doorway of a small kitchen. Joe was scraping out a pan that used to hold what was probably chili, but had turned black and solidified. Kurt whimpered behind him at the state of the kitchen. But Joe seemed to give up.

"Ah, I'll get it later. Let's sit in the living room." Joe shrugged and gestured towards the room behind them. Once everyone was seated on the couch and the armchair, Joe studied them. "So who are you guys, and what can I help you with? I wasn't expecting company today, but if God was kind enough to send you, I won't complain." He smiled, and Blaine noticed the small nose ring glint in the light. Joe absently scratched his bandage while he waited for Blaine and Kurt to answer.

"Right." Blaine cleared his throat. "Um, we're with Animal Control. I'm Josh, and this is Ben. We wanted to ask you a few questions about the complaint you lodged with us a few days ago?"

Joe nodded. "About this?" He held up his arm. "Yeah, sure, ask away. I was worried you guys wouldn't do anything; I hate the thought of some little kid getting attacked like I did."

"Well, that's why we're here." Kurt smiled as Blaine got out a notebook. "We just have a few questions about your attack on Wednesday night, if you don't mind, and then we'll be out of your hair."

"Okay." Joe shrugged. He sat in the armchair, still scratching at the bandage. "What did you want to know?"

"Can you tell us about the attack?"

Joe shrugged. "Well, it was dark. I was walking home from a friend's, and we were kind of having a good time, you know? I wasn't completely sober." He grinned sheepishly.

Blaine smiled encouragingly. "That's fine; just tell us what you remember."

"I don't really remember much." Joe scratched at his arm. "This big…dog thing knocked me down. It was weird, though. It bit my arm and then ran. I was bleeding a lot, so I dragged myself to the hospital, then called you guys." Joe grimaced and pressed on the bite. "Hurts, still."

Kurt nudged Blaine's leg. "Yeah," Blaine muttered. Something was definitely off. "The dog bit you once and then ran off?" That couldn't be normal dog behavior.

"Yeah," Joe nodded and then winced. The area around the bandage was red from the constant scratches.

"What did the dog look like?" Kurt cut in.

Joe frowned and looked up. "Well, it was dark, like I said. I couldn't see much. It was huge though. A lot bigger than most dogs I've ever seen."

Probably not a Shifter then. "Would you say it was closer in size to a wolf or coyote?" Blaine asked.

"Definitely." Joe said confidently. "I didn't think wolves usually come into cities, though."

"They don't." Blaine sighed. Blaine watched Joe rub at the bandage again. "Can we see the wound, sir?" Blaine kept his face clear when Kurt frowned at him, but Joe was already nodding.

"Sure, why not. Itches like hell." Joe peeled back the gauze, revealing a large semi-circle of pierces. He twisted his arm so Blaine could see how it wrapped completely around Joe's forearm. "It wasn't this red earlier," Joe said nervously. His breath quickened, and Blaine felt for his gun. Still in his pocket, thank God. He'd switched all the bullets for silver ones earlier as well.

"Just a few more questions, sir, then you can take all the Tylenol you want and pass out." Blaine said soothingly. Kurt looked apprehensive, but went with it. "How have you been feeling the last few days?"

"Um, alright, I guess." Joe's eyes moved from Blaine to Kurt nervously. "I feel fine during the day, but at night I get a fever and the chills and stuff." He chuckled. "I must get delirious too. This morning, I woke up in my bathtub stark naked with the shower running. Weird, huh?"

Blaine nodded faintly. "Yeah, weird," he agreed. Blaine stood up. "Do you have a bathroom I could use?" He could practically see Kurt's What the fuck, don't leave me alone here! expression, but ignored it. He had an idea.

"Oh, sure, it's around the corner, first door on the left." Joe pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." With an easy smile, Blaine left the room. Instead of heading towards the bathroom, he ducked up the stairs. The stairwell opened into a hallway, Blaine checked the first few doors, finding a linen closet, a guest bedroom, and another bathroom. He could hear the faint murmur of voices from the living room, so Blaine quickly moved to the master bedroom.

It was a mess. Clothes were strewn all over the floor and the bed was torn apart. Blaine picked up one of the pillows by his feet. The case hung in tatters. "Fuck," he muttered. On the dresser was a bag of weed and a half-smoked joint. "Medicating yourself, Joe?" Blaine picked up the joint and inspected it before putting it back. The drugs made sense. That wound looked huge and must hurt, so why not take the edge off? Spying the closet, Blaine strode over and opened the door, revealing more clothes piles. There was a hamper, so he checked inside, nose wrinkling at a familiar smell. Spying the source, Blaine sighed. In the hamper was a shirt with dried blood smeared on the front. Blaine swore softly under his breath and replaced the garment. Too much time had gone by. He snuck back downstairs and into the bathroom. Hurriedly, he ran the faucet and flushed the toilet, opening the door to find Kurt standing outside and looking annoyed.

"What the hell took you so long?" Kurt hissed. "I was running out of things to say. I think he's suspicious."

Blaine looked over to see Joe watching them from his chair. The bandage was still undone.

"He's definitely a werewolf. Or a lycan. I found bloodstained clothes in his room." Blaine muttered, keeping his voice low. "We have to stick with him tonight."

"How? We can't just tell him 'Oh, we think you're going to turn into a wolf tonight, so can we pretty please hang out? Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. "He'll never go for that. He'll call us demons and cast us out with the power of God!"

"No," Blaine groaned inwardly. Shit, this was not how he needed this to go. Then he frowned. Joe moaned in pain from the living room. "What the…?" Blaine brushed past Kurt to see Joe cradling his arm to his chest. "Joe? What's happening?"

Joe just groaned in reply. "H-hurts," he gritted out. Blaine crouched next to him, pulling out his arm so he could see. Kurt waited behind Blaine, hand on his stashed gun and a grim look on his face.

"Let me see," Blaine said firmly, finally forcing Joe's arm outstretched. He heard Kurt gasp behind him.

The wound flared an angry red, but that wasn't all. Dark, black veins stretched from the bite and twisted into the skin, and the muscle twitched and spasmed under Blaine's grip. "Kurt, how long until sunset?" Blaine asked slowly.

"Um…" Kurt swallowed. "About five minutes."

Joe's eyes were wild. "What the fuck is happening to me?" he cried, wrenching his arm back from Blaine's grasp.

Blaine tried to think. The truth might work here. Hopefully he was open-minded enough to listen to them before trying to throw him and Kurt out for blasphemy. The Bible didn't talk kindly on magic or monsters.

"We think you might be infected." Blaine finally said. At Joe's blank look, he continued. "What bit you wasn't a dog. It was either a lycan or a werewolf; we're not completely sure which."

"Either way, you're going to change tonight when the sun goes down," Kurt said. "We need to get you somewhere safe."

Joe stared at them. "Werewolves aren't real." He said numbly. Joe looked like he was in shock.

Blaine shot Kurt a look and rose to his feet, Kurt following. "Sir, I'm very sorry but—"

Joe suddenly let out a cry of pain and collapsed, shaking. "Shit," Blaine muttered. "Kurt, help me, we have to get him locked up before he hurts anyone," Blaine grabbed Joe under the elbows and dragged him towards the laundry room through the kitchen.

"Like us?" Kurt said sarcastically, but he helped Blaine with Joe. He murmured consolations to Joe as the man shook and cried. Kurt nudged Blaine. "His arm…"

Under his hand, the wound had grown hairy. Joe's eyes nearly bugged out and his muscles twitched violently, making it hard for Blaine to drag him. He swore when Joe's hand swung out and hit his face, causing him to let go. The man twisted out of Kurt's grip and scrambled away, breathing heavily.

Joe whimpered and clutched his head with his rapidly changing hands. There were cracks and pops as bones lengthened and contorted, and his clothes tore as he changed into a large black wolf. Blaine stared in awe, not liking the hungry glint in the wolf's green eyes. Joe wasn't in control.

"Oh, fuck," Blaine breathed, pulling out his gun. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurt do the same.

The wolf huddled close to himself, panting. It looked up with hungry eyes, nostrils flaring as the wolf took in the new scents. A low growl rumbled from its throat. It took a step forward, muscles tense. Blaine swallowed hard and aimed the gun. Silver bullets through the heart killed werewolves, but Puck's warning to Kurt flashed through his head. Clearly, Joe wasn't a Shifter as he turned into a wolf and not a regular dog, so that left lycans. But he had no idea if lycans could be killed the same way as werewolves.

"Our first priority is to make sure he doesn't leave the house," Blaine muttered to Kurt. Surprisingly, Kurt seemed fairly calm, though he was paler than usual and his eyes were wide and glassy. "If it looks like he's going to escape, the silver bullets should slow him down. Try for the heart." Kurt nodded jerkily.

Joe's ear twitched. Can he understand us? The wolf suddenly roared and launched itself at Blaine, knocking the gun out of his hands. They collapsed onto a table, which fell apart with a crack. Blaine cried out as his back erupted in pain. He was pinned by the wolf and fought it, using his arms to keep the huge snapping jaws away from his face. Claws tore at his shirt and sliced through his skin, and he pushed against the wolf's neck. The damn thing weighed a ton.

"Kurt!"

"HEY!"

The wolf stopped fighting Blaine and looked up at Kurt. Its nostrils flared and it stepped off of Blaine, watching Kurt carefully, growling low in its throat. Blaine scramble backwards, but he couldn't see his gun in the mess of wood and broken glass. The wolf crouched in front of Kurt, tail low and ears flat as Kurt glared.

"Don't move, Blaine." Kurt said, not taking his eyes off the wolf. He backed slowly into the kitchen, the wolf creeping forward as well. When Kurt stopped in front of the fridge, the wolf's ears perked up.

"Kurt?" Blaine slowly rolled over to stand up. He held a hand over the scratches in his shoulder.

"Shut up!" Kurt said sharply. He opened the fridge with one hand and glanced inside, relaxing slightly as he reached inside. The wolf stood up when it saw the hunk of bloody steak in Kurt's hand, tail wagging. Kurt continued moving backward, the wolf following hopefully. Kurt felt behind him and opened the door to the laundry room. "Is this going to work, Blaine?"

The room was small, with only a washer, dryer and an industrial sink inside. There wasn't another door. "Yeah," Blaine answered.

With a nod, Kurt tossed the steak inside the room and stepped to the side as the wolf bounded forward, slamming the door behind the trapped wolf. He flipped the lock and backed away, breathing heavily.

There were a few growls and thumps, but the door held, and soon the wolf gave up and went back to the steak. "Nice thinking, Kurt," Blaine grinned, smiling at Kurt's blush. As the adrenaline faded, Blaine let out a winced. The wolf left a few scratches on his shoulder that bled freely. He fell back into one of the kitchen chairs, pulling off his shirt. Kurt felt the wounds with pursed lips.

"I'll get the medical kit from the car. You sure that door will hold?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," Blaine replied. The door thumped. "Well, pretty sure." Kurt looked unconvinced. "I'll be fine, just give me your gun just in case. I'm not sure where mine is." With a sigh, Kurt handed it over.

"Call Santana. She'll wanted to know we found one." Kurt ordered. He ran out of the kitchen.

Blaine groaned at another throb of pain. God, hunting was painful. He got out his cell phone, dialing Santana and watching the door for any signs that Joe was on his way to breaking down the door.

"You find one too?" Santana greeted him with no preamble.

"Where are you, San?" Blaine winced at a particularly loud bang came from the laundry room.

"On my way. I have some news for you." There was a muffled groan. "Shit."

"San?"

"I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Just make sure he doesn't go anywhere." She abruptly hung up. Blaine stared at his phone before pocketing it with a sigh. Kurt came in, carrying the extra gauze and disinfectant.

"She's coming. We're just going to have to wait." Blaine told Kurt. He fidgeted as they waited for Santana, with Kurt working quickly to patch Blaine up. Blaine hissed at the antiseptic, but couldn't resist a smile at Kurt's hands on his chest. Kurt caught his eye and blushed.

Santana arrived about ten minutes later, crashing through the house. "Yo, Hummel." She marched into the kitchen. Her braid was coming apart and she was covered in sweat. Blaine noticed her jeans turning dark on one leg and her harsh breathing.

"Shit, San, what happened?" Blaine gaped at her. A thump at the laundry room door made them all jump.

Santana ignored Blaine. "He in there?" She gestured at the locked door.

"Yeah." Kurt pushed her into a seat and rolled up the bloodied pants leg, revealing four large gashes on her calf. Kurt whistled softly as he grabbed the rest of the bandages.

"After I figured out Ren�e was still human, I decided to just go cruising for a while." Santana winced as Kurt cleaned out the wounds. "Shit, Hummel! Anyway, I saw these two guys by a playground, so I went to go check them out. They were arguing about something." She paused when Joe began pawing at the door and whining. "God, I wish he'd shut up. One of the guys saw me or smelled me or something and then they both turned into wolves." She snapped her fingers. "Like that. I don't think they expected me to have a gun, let alone silver bullets, so when I started firing, they got pretty nervous and ran off, but not before leaving me a present." Santana scowled at her newly wrapped leg. "Assholes. Hurts like bitch. I got one in the leg and the other in the shoulder, so hopefully they won't be hunting tonight."

Blaine frowned at her story. "Do you have the feeling we're dealing with something more than just a simple werewolf case?"

With a snort, Santana rolled her eyes. "Well, at least now we know we're looking at lycans. What are we doing with Fido, anyway?"

Joe began howling. Blaine saw Kurt turn away from the door and hug himself. This was the difficult part.

"We'll talk to him in the morning." Blaine sighed.

By four, Kurt was wide awake. He and Blaine had curled up on the sofa with Blaine against the back and holding Kurt. Santana took the bed upstairs. The wolf hadn't stopping making noises, and Kurt stared at the door. He had a clear view of it through the kitchen from the sofa.

He hated that door.

He hadn't slept. Every time he shut his eyes he saw Joe's terrified eyes when the man saw his arms turning into paws.

The first transformation must have been a shock, but Blaine mentioned something about weed in the bedroom. Joe probably hadn't realized he wasn't dreaming. So changing last night, completely sober…

Kurt winced at another forlorn howl. Still unconscious, Blaine tugged Kurt closer to his chest and buried his face in the back of Kurt's neck.

The poor man.

He was just about to actually fall asleep when Santana marched into the room.

"Get up, gaylords," she said, swinging a pillow into Blaine's face.

With a groan, Blaine hid behind Kurt. "Make her go away." He said, voice muffled.

"She's your friend," Kurt replied darkly. He sat up and rubbed his face. "God, Santana, the sun isn't even up yet, what the fuck."

She rolled her eyes. "You two are so fucking slow. No shit, the sun isn't up. But we need to have a little chat about Kessler in there."

"His name's Joe, Santana."

"She's referring to An American Werewolf in London." Blaine said. He'd turned over and hid his face in a pillow. "Movie."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Come on, Blainesters. We need to talk." She smacked his ass. Blaine shot her a glare, but sat up. He leaned on Kurt, winding an arm around his boyfriend's waist and leaning on his shoulder. Blaine was damn clingy in the morning. "Starting with why Joe wasn't just shot last night when he turned." The hunter turned demanding eyes on Blaine, then Kurt. Kurt met her gaze evenly.

Shifting uncomfortably, Blaine shrugged. "He took us by surprise." Blaine admitted. "And then I don't know. Kurt lured him into the laundry room and got it locked. There didn't seem to be a point. And then you called and we both needed medical attention. Right?" Blaine glanced at Kurt, who shakily nodded.

Santana narrowed her eyes. "So there won't be a problem when I shoot it after we question it later, right?"

"What?" Kurt stood up angrily. "Who said anything about shooting him? He's still himself; he's still Joe. What are you suggesting?"

Glaring, Santana stood up as well, swaying slightly on her bandaged leg. "I'm suggesting that we do our job. Which is to eliminate all supernatural threats."

"He might not be one." Kurt gritted out. He could not believe how cruel she was being. Blaine rested a hand on his arm but Kurt ignored him. "He's still a human being."

"He's a monster." Santana said flatly. "He's a werewolf. Or a lycan; who the fuck knows. But either way, that man will turn into a wolf and kill as many people as he can. He can't control it; it's in his blood now."

"You can't just—Blaine!" Kurt whirled on his boyfriend. "You can't be thinking about going along with this."

Blaine looked miserable. "Kurt," he said, rubbing Kurt's arm until Kurt yanked it away and crossed his arms. Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "Santana is right. Werewolves—and lycans—have a hard time keeping control. There's no cure, and containment methods can fail. The safest thing to do is eliminate the threat."

"So kill them." Kurt said bluntly. He fought down the rage boiling in his blood.

"In short, yes," Blaine stood up and took a step forward. "It's not ideal. But it's the kindest thing to do."

Kurt couldn't help the surge of disappointment as he looked at Blaine. "I thought we'd gotten over this kind of blanket prejudice when we dealt with Mike and Tina." Kurt snapped icily. "But clearly you have issues with everything."

Blaine colored. "Kurt, that's not fair. Vampires can choose to not hunt humans. Werewolves can't."

"But lycans can!" Kurt exploded. "You can't just write him off like this! How can we sit here and decide whether a person lives or dies!"

"They're all the same." Santana cut in. Kurt noticed she was gripping a gun, and he could bet it was loaded with silver. Her voice turned hard. "Werewolves kill people. And if they don't kill them, they try to change them. They're evil."

He stared at her. Santana actually seemed to hate Joe. A lone whine came from the laundry room, but none of them moved. Then it dawned on Kurt. "This is because of Britt." He scoffed. "Oh my god. You hate werewolves because they took Brittany away from you."

"Kurt." Blaine said warningly. Kurt couldn't stop himself though, even as Santana's face turned furious.

"You're something else." Kurt glared at her. "Werewolves aren't to blame. You took her along and put her in danger. If it wasn't a werewolf, it would have been something else. Not all werewolves are bloodthirsty monsters. Brittany getting hurt was ultimately your fault."

"Shut your mouth, Hummel."

Kurt laughed, short and disbelieving. "You left her. Not the other way around. You left Brittany to fend for herself. Didn't even talk to her or give her a choice. Kurt shook his head. "We talked, her and I. When Blaine was out." Santana turned red, but Kurt kept talking. "She misses you. She looks in on you sometimes. And she sees how lonely and lost and angry you are. She forgave you years ago."

"Hummel."

"Kurt, that's enough." Blaine cut in. "You made your point. But we still have to stop him."

Kurt shook his head. "No. I won't let you shoot him. Like he's an animal."

Blaine's expression turned frustrated. "Kurt, he can't help it! Hunting is in his nature; he can't fight that all the time. He will kill people. As many as he can."

"I've heard that before, you know." Kurt said; voice deadly. Rage coiled tight within his chest, but Kurt fought it. "Do you want to guess where?"

Blaine paled. "Kurt."

"It's something Sebastian told me every night." Kurt kept his voice calm. Both Santana and Blaine look guilty under Kurt's gaze. "I'm going to talk to Joe."

Neither of the hunters stopped him.

Joe was awake and terrified when Kurt got him. He was fully human, though his clothes lay in tatters around himself, and the washing machine had several large dents in it. Kurt took him upstairs to dress and clean up, leaving Santana and Blaine in the kitchen.

Santana had barely said a word since Kurt and Joe left the room. Instead she made herself coffee and slowly sipped it, ignoring Blaine. Fixing this mess was not going to be easy. Blaine sat down in the other kitchen chair, leaning on the table.

"I didn't think about Kurt like that." Santana admitted quietly. She drank her coffee and avoided Blaine's eyes.

Blaine nodded silently. "It's my fault too. I should have realized." He rubbed his face. "God, I'm the worst boyfriend ever." He should have seen Kurt's point sooner. How many times had his own mother screamed at Kurt that he should leave her son because he was dangerous? How often had he heard Sebastian tell Kurt that he couldn't fight his true nature?

"I don't know what to do." Santana ran her fingers through her hair. "God. I liked it when hunting was simple. If it killed people, you shot it. Easy."

"Same." Blaine agreed. "Did you want to take point on questioning him?" Blaine asked. Santana nodded silently. "Alright, we let's discuss this. I have a few theories." Blaine watched her until he got a nod. "Good. Now, last night, Joe told us the night before he had a fever and chills. I found pot upstairs, so I'm pretty sure he smoked some before changing. He didn't remember anything about that night other than waking up in the shower with the water running." Santana frowned, but waved her hand for him to continue. "I also found bloody clothes hidden in his hamper."

She whistled lowly. "So he did change before last night and probably killed. Brad Chan?"

"I think so."

"Do you think he's lying about not remembering it?"

Blaine hesitated. "No," he said finally. "I really think last night was the first time he realized what was happening."

Santana sipped more coffee. "But if he woke up bloody, that would be a clear sign that something was wrong. But he didn't." She glanced at Blaine.

"Someone had to be taking care of him the first night." Blaine stole her cup and took a drink. Bitter. He glared at the mug. "Maybe his maker. His alpha. They probably saw me and Kurt here last night and panicked."

"We don't have any way of tracking down his maker now. And we still have a wolf to deal with." Santana glanced at the door. "When's Kurt getting back?"

"Now." Kurt strode into the kitchen, with a newly dressed and cleaned Joe.

Joe's hands shook his coffee mug as he sat on the couch. He didn't make eye contact with anyone. He played with one of his dreads, just twisting it around his finger and pulling lightly.

"So I'm a…a lycan?" He looked up nervously.

"Yep." Santana said. She had a hand on her gun and looked ready to use it at a moment's notice. Blaine sighed.

"And I turn into a wolf." Joe shook his head faintly. "I thought I hallucinated that."

"No," Kurt rubbed his back. "You didn't. I'm sorry."

Joe suddenly looked up, frantic. "I don't want to hurt people. Did I hurt anyone? I remember a man screaming and…and blood…" Joe paled. "I killed someone, didn't I?"

"It wasn't your fault." Blaine said hurriedly. "It was your first transformation and no one was here to help you. We kept you safe last night." Joe began hyperventilating. "Hey, hey, calm down."

"Who are you guys? Really?" Joe looked at all of them suspiciously. "You aren't Animal Control."

"No," Blaine admitted. "My name is Blaine, and this is Kurt and Santana. We're hunters. Of supernatural creatures and things." He smiled softly. "We need to talk about you, though."

Kurt pressed his mouth in a firm line. Thankfully, though, he stayed quiet.

Joe glanced at Santana. "Why does she look ready to skin me?"

"Because werewolves are dangerous." Santana said matter-of-factly. "Even lycans."

"He can learn." Kurt said bitingly.

"How? He doesn't have anyone to teach him!"

"He can try!"

"Guys!" Blaine yelled. Joe shook in front of him and Blaine grabbed his hands to calm him down. "Seriously, stop. We don't need him any more anxious than he already is."

Santana glared at Kurt and crossed her arms.

Kurt suddenly perked up. "What about Mr. Schue?"

Blaine and Santana glanced at each other. "What about him?" Blaine asked, puzzled. What in the hell was Kurt thinking?

Kurt actually bounced in his spot. "We could take Joe there. New Directions is full of hunters, right? They can make sure he's safe at night and they're in the middle of nowhere anyway. And he might be able to learn how to control himself with help from Quinn and Mercedes. Hell, Sam could even have ideas and he's not too far from there." His eyes were bright and hopeful. "We don't have to kill him."

"What? Kill me?" Joe looked at each of them with wild eyes.

"Shut up, Fluffy." Santana snapped. "Go on, Hummel."

"W-well," Kurt glanced at Blaine, silently pleading for support. "He's not inherently evil. We were talking upstairs." Kurt gestured at Joe, who just looked confused and nervous. "He heard us last night. And understood us, sort of. And he meditates, like all the time, which is actually kind of freaky, but he has really good concentration and control over himself; so why can't that control transfer over to his new wolf self?" Kurt stopped to take a breath. "He can do this." Kurt said confidently.

Blaine inhaled sharply and eyed Santana. "I think it's actually a good idea." He said.

"Of course you would; he's your boyfriend." Santana scoffed. "You have to agree with him." She looked away from Blaine's gaze.

Come on, Santana. Do the right thing. Blaine tried to silently convince her.

"Oh, fuck. Fine. Call Schue and see what he thinks." She relented, scowling. "But you're still getting tied up tonight, Sparky." Santana said, pointing a finger at Joe.

"Eep! Thank you!" Kurt squealed and hugged her tightly while Joe looked around helplessly.

"What?"

They still had one more night of the full moon to survive.

The plan was simple. Santana's leg was still messed up and she couldn't exactly sprint, so she would stay with Joe for the night. They would use the laundry room again. Blaine was fairly certain she wouldn't kill him. Fairly.

Meanwhile, he and Kurt would cruise the town in the hopes of either finding Joe's alpha or stopping another attack. It was a weak plan, but it was the best they could come up with. In the morning, they'd start driving to Montana.

Mr. Schue agreed to handle Joe, and Mercedes and Quinn wanted to see Kurt and Blaine anyway. Santana, however, refused to set foot in that "hellhole in the armpit of America." She had a way with words, Blaine had to admit.

Blaine watched the street through the window drapes while Santana got Joe set up for the night. He narrowed his eyes. "Hey, Kurt," he called. "Come here."

Kurt joined him at the window.

"Do you see that car in front of the blue house?" Blaine pointed. "The black one?"

"Yeah."

"It drove by three times and it's been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes."

Kurt hummed in response. "How many?"

Blaine grinned. Kurt was going to be a great hunter. "There's two men in the car. They keep ducking and trying to hide, but they're too big."

"Think they're here for Joe?" Kurt asked. He let the drapes fall back. "His…alpha, you said?"

Blaine nodded. "Definitely." He stepped away from the window and grabbed his coat. "The sun is almost down. Let's go have a little chat."

Sighing, Kurt readied himself. "This isn't going to go well, is it?"

Blaine just shrugged, grinning. The thrill of the hunt rushed through his body. He loved this part. Knowing he's doing the right thing and saving people. It's what made the job worth it.

With Joe locked up and Santana sitting guard, Blaine and Kurt snuck out the back. They cut through the neighbor's yards and circled around to the font, coming up to the car from the back. As Blaine saw earlier, there were two large men in the front seats. One was bald, and the other had thick black hair and a beard. Blaine didn't like the look of him. Kurt stayed close to his side as they walked up to the car, looking like an ordinary couple out on a stroll. Only Kurt's tight grip on his arm betrayed his nerves.

"Steady, Kurt." Blaine muttered. Kurt squeezed his arm in response.

They walked past the car. "Evening, gentlemen." Blaine waved at them with a bright smile. The bald one rolled his eyes in disgust and the bearded one just glared. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

The bald man grunted, but quickly fixed his gaze back on Joe's house. The sun slipped below the horizon, turning the sky deep red and purple.

"Wouldn't you say so Kurt? So…balmy out here." Blaine said, still grinning. It was just above 40, so Kurt just stared at him. "Anyway, we know who you are." Blaine smiled tightly.

The men stared at him. "Is that so?" The bald man opened the car and got out. He towered over Blaine. The man with the beard slid up next to his companion. He stared at Kurt hungrily, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together.

"Merril, quiet." The bald man glared at the giggling man. "Who are you, boy?"

"A hunter." Blaine said proudly. A howl came from the house, and Merril growled. "We know you're lycans."

The bald man laughed. "Then you should have known better then to challenge two of us on a full moon." He blinked and his eyes turned yellow.

Blaine backed up and took out his gun, Kurt doing the same. The bald man laughed and lifted his head to the moon. As Kurt and Blaine watched, the men curled in on themselves. Their shirts tore as their muscles grew and stretched, fur growing over their bodies. Within seconds, two large wolves stood in front of the hunters, one grey and one a shaggy brown.

"Oh. Shit." Kurt breathed. "They're huge, Blaine."

Blaine nodded faintly. Joe was large, yes, but these had at least a foot on him. The gun in his hand suddenly felt very small. Joe howled from the house again and the wolves' ears twitched. The brown wolf locked eyes with Kurt and growled low in his throat, saliva dripping from its huge jaws. It took a step forward and Kurt tensed. He cocked his gun.

The grey wolf snapped at the brown, but the brown wolf swiped back at the other and then lunged at Kurt. Kurt fired in reflex, hitting the wolf in the shoulder. With a yelp of pain, and the smell of sizzling flesh, the wolf fell to the ground, growling.

A man poked his head outside of his door at the shot. "Get back inside; police business!" Blaine yelled. The man's eyes widened, but he slammed the door, just as the brown wolf clambered back to his feet. "Kurt, run. I can take care of them." Blaine raised his gun and took aim at the grey one. It growled at him, barking once.

"Like fuck I'm leaving you." Kurt scoffed. "So, which do you think turned Joe?"

"The grey one." Blaine backed up slowly. The wolves advanced. "He's taking the lead, see? The other one follows him. He's building a pack." Blaine realized. "Holy shit. He's building a pack."

The grey wolf appeared to grin. It howled long and triumphant then lunged at Blaine. Blaine dodged the attack, shoving Kurt out of the way and firing a round at the wolf. He missed, and the wolf snapped angrily. Kurt got to his feet quickly and stood back-to-back with Blaine, facing the brown wolf.

"I know the odds are two against two," Kurt began. "And we have guns, but I really, really don't like this."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. The wolves were huge and powerful, but also smart. They could think like humans, not animals. And the silver barely fazed them. Not to mention the fact that they were in the middle of a suburban neighborhood filled with potential victims. Good god, Blaine hoped the residents had the sense to lock their doors at the howls and gunshots. Actually, he was surprised the police hadn't shown up yet.

The grey wolf barked shortly, and the brown one took that as a cue. It ran at Kurt, howling and covering the fifteen yard difference between them in less than four seconds. Kurt screamed as claws ripped at his chest before Blaine yanked him away. Blaine pistol-whipped the wolf's skull and the brown wolf dropped like a stone. Behind him, the grey wolf howled in anger and growled. Its yellow eyes flashed with rage, and he ran at Blaine, knocking him away from Kurt and to the ground. The wolf clamped its powerful jaws around Blaine's calf and bit hard.

Pain exploded in his leg and Blaine screamed. He kicked at the wolf's face, but it just bit harder, blood pouring out over its snout. He couldn't think beyond pain pain oh god make it stop and Kurt, bless him, kept his head. He grabbed Blaine's dropped gun and shot the wolf's body.

The wolf released Blaine's leg and Blaine scooted away from the growling creature, trying not to hyperventilate. Holy fuck his leg hurt. He wasn't thinking about the fact he had just gotten a lycan bite because there was no place for those thoughts when Kurt was facing down a twelve-foot wolf with a revolver and five shots left.

The blood loss made Blaine's vision cloud, but he fought back. "K-Kurt." He gritted out. "The-the heart. Try for-for the heart."

"Okay," Kurt whispered. Blaine saw tear tracks on his boyfriend's face.

The wolf cocked his head at Kurt and then changed back to his human form. The brown wolf had woken and padded over to the naked man, licking and nuzzling the man's hands.

"Oh, now, this is unfortunate." The man smiled cruelly. "A hunter has become the hunted." He waved at Blaine and laughed.

"Shut the fuck up." Kurt snapped. He was shaking, and Blaine wished he could stand and help him but his leg just hurt. Like fire was shooting through his veins. Blaine groaned softly as he tried to stem the blood flow with his hands.

Kurt glanced over worriedly, but kept the gun trained on the man. "Who are you?" Kurt flecked his eyes between the man and the wolf. "Why are you here?"

The man spread his arms. "We are here because this town is as good as any to start an army." He grinned, showing bloodied teeth. "Oh, and something you should know. Not everyone is cut out to be a lycan. Only somewhere in the neighborhood of, hmmm, twenty percent can tolerate the lycan magic." Kurt paled and glanced at a feverish Blaine. "The rest grow sick within a week and then pass away." He petted the wolf, which still eyed Kurt hungrily.

"What's the army for?"

"Oh, I think you know, Kurt Hummel." The man smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Reuben, a good...hmm…ally of a friend of yours."

"Sebastian." Kurt breathed.

Reuben clapped his hand and the wolf barked. "And a bacon strip to the winner! Yes, Sebastian could use an army like lycans. We have the perfect disguise. We can blend in anywhere and have the ability to become lethal and indestructible killers at will." Reuben cocked an eyebrow. "Not unlike a certain someone, I've heard." Kurt stiffened, but the man ignored it. "The age of lycans is coming, little mouse, and not even Sebastian will be able to t stop it." Reuben suddenly gripped the wolf's neck. "No, Merril, we need him alive. I know he smells good, but leave him. Take the hunter. He's dying anyway." He growled out. Reuben released the wolf, ignoring its whimper. "There's another female hunter in the house. You can have her when we get the pup."

"You won't get either. Or Blaine." Kurt said, furious. Blaine saw his eyes turning blue and Kurt's breathing sped up. "You're going to die right here."

Kurt squeezed the trigger and the bullet ripped through Reuben's heart with no warning. Reuben hadn't had time to react before he collapsed to the ground, a growing red stain around his heart. His eyes were glassy and lifeless.

Merril howled and turned to Kurt, growling deeply. He snapped at Kurt a few times, but kept moving to never present Kurt with a clear target.

"Fuck, Kurt, keep control, keep calm," Blaine whispered as he watched the scene with growing horror. His leg pain had dulled to a steady pulse, and the tourniquet he tied seemed to slow the blood loss. Kurt's movements were jerky and wild as he tried to follow the wolf with his gun. His power was taking over, and it was only a matter of time before they got a repeat of the warehouse and Kurt knocked himself out.

If there was ever a time for Santana…

A new howl split the air, higher in pitch. All eyes turned to Joe's house, where a pale but determined Santana stood on the porch with a black wolf at her side. The brown wolf growled, haunches raised.

Santana looked calmly at the scene, though Blaine saw how tightly she gripped the railing. He had no idea why Joe wasn't locked up, let alone why Santana let him out, but the sight of them together was such a relief than Blaine actually sighed happily. She seemed to come to a conclusion about the scene before her, and Santana raised a finger to point at the brown wolf.

"Sic 'im, boy." She said.

The black wolf howled and ran at the brown. They met in a tangle of limbs and fur and teeth and claws, ripping and tearing at each other. Kurt stood off to the side as he tried to follow the fight with the gun.

"I just need one clear shot; come on, Joe," Kurt muttered.

The brown wolf sank its teeth in Joe's thigh and Joe let out a cry of pain before swiping across the wolf's snout with his sharp claws. Joe lunged at the wolf and closed his maw around the wolf's throat, biting deep. The wolf yelped in pain and tried to twist away, but Joe flipped the wolf on its back to bare its chest to the sky. Blaine sucked in a breath. The wolf couldn't be more vulnerable; Kurt had to shoot it now. Kurt stepped closer until he stood over the wolf, gun pointing at the wolf's heart.

Joe growled in his throat and shook the wolf's body as if to say do it now!

"Sebastian is going to lose." Kurt said. Then he fired.

The bullet met its mark easily and tore through flesh and bone. The brown wolf cried out in pain, and Joe released the wolf's neck. Merril's body jerked as the fur receded and his bones warped back into his human shape, leaving a mangled and bloodied man in the wolf's place. He coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Through his harsh breathing, Merril grinned at Kurt.

"The-the demon t-told us about you," Merril forced out. Kurt looked back stonily. "You c-can't fight who you are. You're going t-to destroy the w-world." He laughed shortly, wet and choked. "Then we'll see who loses."

Kurt shook at his words. When Merril started laughing again, Kurt raised the gun and fired the remaining rounds into the lycan's chest, obliterating it. He kept squeezing the trigger even after the hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

He was crying by that point, and Blaine had to distract him. "Kurt…" Blaine tried to stand, but his leg buckled under his weight and sent him sprawling into the grass. His leg felt like it was on fire. Joe walked over to him and licked Blaine's face, whining softly. He turned and barked at Kurt, getting his attention.

Kurt finally saw Blaine lying on the ground awkwardly and his copiously bleeding leg. "Oh, fuck, no," Kurt whispered. "Shit, shit, Blaine, you can't leave me like this," Kurt gripped Blaine around his waist and hauled him up to a semi-standing position. "Hold on, Blaine." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck and Kurt lifted him up, running for Joe's house with the wolf right behind him. They'd worry about the corpses later.

At the house, Santana launched into a Spanish tirade when she saw Blaine's pale and sweat-drenched face as well as his mangled leg. She and Kurt cleared a space in the living and laid Blaine down, careful not to jostle the leg too much. Blaine fought back tears, but shit. Visions began flashing in front of his eyes, pictures of the woods, of stalking deer, of bringing down prey.

"Blaine, Blaine," Kurt fought back sobs as he wiped Blaine's face with a cool washcloth. "Sweetheart, there has to be a cure, it can't be over so fast." Blaine gripped Kurt's hand as best he could. He could feel Santana cutting away his jeans and she cursed at the sight of the wound. Even Joe whined sadly, nosing at Blaine's other arm.

"There's no cure, Kurt." Blaine fought to get the words out. His mind felt foggy, delirious. "We just-just have to see if I can survive this night and go from there." He caught Santana's eye and looked away. The wolf earlier was right. The hunter was now the hunted, and even if Blaine survived the transition there was no guarantee he'd be able to keep himself under control. He could very well die in the next hour or even week.

Kurt was crying, and Blaine hated himself for that. It wasn't fair. They were supposed to get months, years together. Not like this. Not cut short in some backwater town in Virginia on a hippie-lycan's floor.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm sorry," Blaine babbled. "I'm sorry, I love you." He tried to focus on Kurt's eyes, beautiful blue eyes that were large and watery with pain.

Kurt kissed him roughly, trying not to cry but failing. "No, no, no, I'm not ready, please, Blaine, please don't leave me, I need you!" Kurt suddenly sat up straight. His eyes flashed angrily. "Puck, get your feathery douchebag ass down here!" he yelled. Santana frowned and Joe tilted his head to the side, both confused. Kurt ignored them. "Puck! I fucking mean it, I'm praying you dickwad!"

"Kurt," Santana touched his shoulder but Kurt twisted away. "Kurt, stop, help me with Blaine instead of screeching my ears off."

"PUCK!"

"Christ, man, I heard you!" They all stared at the door, where a man in a mohawk stood cleaning out his ear. "Scream a little louder, I'm sure there are demons in the pits of hell that didn't hear you." He looked around the room. "Damn, it's like a warzone in here, what happened?"

Kurt scrambled to his feet. "Fix him." He pointed at Blaine. "And her, but help Blaine, please, I'm begging you."

Puck gave him a long look, but crouched beside Santana. "Hey, hot stuff, how's it going?" Santana stared at him suspiciously, so Puck sighed. He pressed two fingers to her forehead, and in another breath, Santana gasped. She gaped at him, then ripped away the bandages on her leg, revealing smooth, unbroken skin.

"How…?"

"Aw, you're speechless!" Puck grinned. "I'll be back sweetheart." He stood up and looked at Blaine, taking in his fever and rattling breath. "What happened?"

"Lycan bite." Kurt whispered. Joe padded up next to Kurt and Kurt stroked his head unconsciously. "Not very long ago."

Puck knelt beside Blaine and pressed a hand to Blaine's forehead. Blaine sighed at the cool touch, but nothing changed too much. Wasn't it working?

"I can't do anything." Puck finally said. He looked sadly at Kurt.

"W-what?" Kurt stuttered. "You're a fucking angel; you can do anything! Save Blaine!"

Puck shook his head. "This is very powerful magic and much different than my own. I can't help him."

Blaine let his head fall back. Well, it was close. He'd almost escaped. He wished Kurt would stop freaking out. He just wanted his boyfriend to hug him before he died; to whisper that everything was going to be ok. Leaving Kurt hurt so much. Blaine felt a tear slide down his cheek.

Kurt couldn't give up that easily. "No! No, it's not over, it can't be, can't you do something?" Kurt pleaded. "Please, Puck, please, help us."

With a sigh, Puck eyed Kurt. "Come here, Princess." He tugged Kurt to his knees next to Blaine. Kurt hovered near Blaine's head. "You guys back up." Puck snapped at Santana and Joe, who retreated several steps. "Ok, there's no guarantee this is going to work, ok?"

Kurt nodded quickly. Reaching up, Blaine took Kurt's hand and squeezed. The fever made it hard to comprehend what was going on, but even upside-down Kurt looked scared and that just did things to Blaine.

"You might—might—be able to help your boyfriend." Puck said. "Have you been practicing?"

Kurt flushed guiltily.

"Thought so," Puck sighed. "Alright, fine, we'll just have to go carefully." He took Kurt's hands and placed them on either side of Blaine's head. Kurt stroked lightly, calming Blaine down slightly. "Now I want you to listen to me very carefully. Do everything I say."

"Okay." Kurt whispered.

Puck looked him up and down. "Everything."

"Okay!" Kurt glared almost angrily. "Help me save Blaine."

"Close your eyes." Puck ordered. "Good. Alright, now feel for the magic in the room." He waited until Kurt nodded, face screwed up in concentration.

Joe began to whine and shrank back against Santana. The air grew thick and charged. Blaine squeezed his hands at his sides to fight the urge to touch Kurt. The pain in his leg had dulled, and he felt Kurt's hands on his heads grow warm. Kurt opened his eyes and looked down at Blaine, smiling softly. His eyes were completely blue.

Everything fell away but Kurt, Kurt and his eyes. He thought he heard Puck instructing Kurt on how to direct the magic, and then cool tendrils of something crept from Kurt's hands through Blaine. The tendrils gathered around his leg and pulsed. The fever faded and the pain was pulled out of him slowly with each pulse. Kurt's magic caressed him, stroking the injured leg and his face and squeezing his hand as the lycan magic was extracted from his body. Blaine gasped in sudden pain and he heard Kurt swear above him. It wouldn't leave him, the wolf refused. Oh please let Kurt be strong enough. The lycan wolf dug claws into Blaine's heart and wouldn't let go.

"K-Kurt," Blaine panted out, trying to be strong. Get out, get out, I don't want you! He screamed at the wolf. The wolf just laughed and squeezed harder. Blaine moaned when he felt Kurt pour more magic into his body, trembling. He hurt all over and ached, but he had to keep it together until Kurt could save him. He wouldn't, couldn't leave Kurt, not with the war about to start. He loved Kurt.

Magic filled him, warred inside him, the light blue of Kurt's and the black of the wolf's. Blaine whimpered and Kurt stroked his curls, but didn't break his concentration. After a particularly harsh clash, Blaine suddenly heard Kurt yelling in his head.

Mine, MINE, not yours, leave, get out get out GET OUT! A surge of power rushed through his veins and the wolf was expelled with a shocked expression. Blaine shot up and coughed violently, gasping from breath. Kurt was right there, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Blaine? Blaine, how do you feel?" Kurt felt his forehead worriedly. "Your fever's gone, but everything else?"

"It's gone," Blaine stared at Kurt's worried eyes. "It's gone, you did it, oh my god!" Blaine pulled Kurt into a tight hug. "You are so amazing, you know that?" He whispered. Kurt didn't answer, but buried his face in the crook of Blaine's shoulder, crying quietly. Joe barked happily and even Santana looked impressed, though Puck just eyed Kurt with an unreadable expression.

Blaine hugged Kurt tighter. They would worry about Puck later.

Kurt never knew what exactly changed Santana's mind about Joe exactly, but she'd released him from his prison and he saved him and Blaine. He'd never be able to repay her. When Joe turned back in the morning, they made new plans. He wasn't going to New Directions any longer. He wanted to help people, and he couldn't do that locked up in the middle of nowhere.

And for some reason, Santana agreed. She was lonely after losing Britt, and Joe had lost everything in his old life. They decided to stay together. Privately, Kurt thought having a companion would be good for Santana. She needed someone to keep her sane during these trying times.

Puck cleaned up the bodies of the lycans outside, frowning at Kurt and Blaine's story. An army of lycans would indeed be a powerful weapon for the demons, and none were naive enough to guess that this was their only pack. Puck agreed to keep an eye out on more strange deaths, and to inform the angels so they could hopefully stop a repeat.

Blaine still wanted to go to New Directions.

He wanted more allies. Which meant more people knowing about Kurt. More people seeing him as a freak.

His powers had saved Blaine, yes, but no one, not even Puck, knew how close Kurt had come to losing control. Magic was fickle and powerful, and not something to take lightly.

But Blaine asked. And so they left for Montana in the morning.

-I-94, Maryland-

The air was beautiful, so Blaine had the windows down and the music blasting.

Funny how a brush with death made everything more precious. Blaine grinned over at Kurt, who managed a small smile before turning back to the window. Blaine frowned slightly.

Something was going on with Kurt. And like usual, he wasn't talking. He knew Kurt didn't want to get more people involved, but with the demons making their moves and the angels sure to follow, he and Kurt needed more allies on their side. People that could help them, no questions asked.

Quinn and Mercedes would be invaluable, especially as they work in a popular roadhouse. The kind of information and gossip they'd pick up would be helpful. And Schue had connections all over the country. If he and Kurt could persuade them, they might have a chance.

But something was still bothering Kurt, and Blaine had a feeling it was deeper than just asking New Directions to join them.

Blaine sang along to the radio.

And you walked out when I asked you to stay
As usual you will get your way
You closed the door and stumbled down to the street
Where you wring your hands…

He poked Kurt until his boyfriend turned to him. Blaine kept singing, hoping that Kurt was listening to the words.

I'm ringing all the warning bells
Careful or you'll hurt yourself
Others lie, lie, lie, they adore you
I'll be the one to tell you
Careful or you'll hurt yourself
Gonna try, try, try till the morning

The music seemed to break down some of Kurt's walls. As the last notes trailed off, Blaine lowered the volume.

"Kurt?"

"Mmm?" He met Blaine's eyes hesitantly.

"Can you talk to me about what's scaring you?" Blaine was met with silence. "Please, I just want to help you." Blaine tried to keep his voice calm. Thank God he was fairly decent at reading Kurt, because he had a bad feeling this topic was really important. Getting Kurt to actually talk was like pulling teeth. "Kurt?"

"I'm scared about what I can do," Kurt whispered. He wouldn't even look at Blaine, but instead curled himself up in the seat. "I'm not…I don't know how to control the magic, and that night in the warehouse? And last night? I took too much and barely kept it from exploding and I don't want to risk you, but Puck keeps telling me to try but how can I do that and keep you safe? Or me?" Kurt finally met Blaine's eyes, looking so tortured and scared that Blaine pulled over immediately. Once the car was parked, Kurt began hyperventilating and spilling everything.

"I can't even describe it yet, but I just know if I take too much I'll get overwhelmed and I have no idea what will happen. Best case scenario, I'm the only one affected, and I don't know. I explode or something."

Blaine felt sick at how flippantly Kurt described himself dying. But he refrained from interrupting.

"Worst case? Everything explodes and people around me get hurt. Like you. And I can take so much power that it could be like a nuclear bomb going off. Who knows how many would die? Because Blaine," Kurt shifted, facing Blaine directly. "It's so easy to take too much. It's like a balance; I have to take enough to get the job done, but too much and the scales tip. If they tip too far, I can't do anything to stop it. I can't control myself, and I'm so scared of that." Kurt swallowed. "I don't want to hurt anyone." He whispered before launching himself into Blaine's arms.

He'd been carrying that around for weeks. "Shit, Kurt, you have got to stop this ok?" Blaine clung tight, rubbing soothingly over Kurt's back. "We're in this together; I can't keep watching you bottle this shit up, ok?" Blaine framed Kurt's face with his hands and forced his boyfriend to look at him. "I want to help you. Communication, right?" He smiled and brushed a stray hair out of Kurt's eyes. "I hate watching you hurt like this. I love you."

"Love you too." Kurt reply was automatic. He took a shaky breath. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask," Blaine chuckled slightly. "And I'll be the one to tell you," he sang softly. "Careful or you'll hurt yourself, gonna try, try, try, 'til the morning."

Kurt gave him a watery smile. "Sap."

"You love it, Kurt Hummel." Blaine smirked. He giggled when Kurt smacked his arm. He guided the car back onto the highway and turned up the radio. It was some Lady Gaga song, and if he could see Kurt's face light up like that all the time, he'd never complain about subjecting himself to pop music again. He sang along with Kurt, reveling in the fact that they were still alive and still together. They were going to make it.

Besides, there were only twenty more hours to the Roadhouse, and he decided he wanted to hear Kurt sing the whole way.