No, not sex. Mind out of the gutter!

Blaine found out that Kurt does not function well until he has had his coffee, Kurt takes years in the bathroom with his skin routine, and Kurt hates Journey. Well, specifically one song by Journey.

He found out that last one the hard way.

"Blaine Anderson, if you do not turn off that god-awful shrieking, I will shave your head while you sleep!" Kurt yelled over Steve Perry belting out "Don't Stop Believing."

Blaine sulked but switched stations. "Why you gotta hate on Journey?" he moped. "It's…Journey! Everybody loves them!" He got only a glare in return. It was a common occurrence.

"In my high school glee club, we sang that song all the time. It was kind of our anthem." Kurt looked out the window at the passing Nebraska countryside. "I'm sick of it now."

When Blaine finally spoke, it was softly. "Sorry Kurt."

Kurt, on the other hand, found out Blaine was a cuddlewhore when he got sleepy or drunk, Blaine could be ridiculously cheerful at annoying times, and Blaine loved cookies.

Not store-bought cookies. Homemade cookies. Kurt resolved to make some if they ever stay in a place with an oven.

Actually, Kurt was finding out a lot of things about hunter life. Blaine was determined to squash 15 years of knowledge and training into as little time as possible, which meant the long car rides were spent with Kurt reading the "Sacred Holy Textbook of Evil," as Kurt had named Blaine's parents' handbook/journal. Apparently it was common for hunters to keep one to track of all the creatures they encountered. Blaine had looked disapprovingly at Kurt the first time the other boy used that name, but secretly thought it clever and all too accurate. Kurt was actually scarily good at recalling information, and memorized three different exorcisms in less than a day (it had taken Blaine months to remember the shortest one and he gave up on the rest). In addition to studying up on supernatural mythology, Kurt was also learning hand-to-hand combat, knife fighting, and shooting. That last one was interesting.

BAM

"Jesus fucking Christ, Kurt, AIM."

"I AM." Kurt glared at Blaine, who had turned pale and looked faintly sick.

"Obviously you are NOT, seeing as you almost SHOT me." He retorted. Blaine hoped his heart would go back to a normal speed. Kurt's bullet, though it had missed, thank God, had taken ten years off his life.

"You stepped into my line of fire."

"TWICE, Kurt."

"You stepped into my line of fire." Kurt repeated stubbornly. The edges of his mouth twitched. "Ok. Look, I'm sorry I almost shot you twice. It was an accident, and won't happen again." He raised the small revolver again and aimed at the can on the wood stump 50 feet away.

Standing well behind Kurt this time, Blaine just grunted. "I'm still not letting you carry firearms until I can be certain you won't blow off your foot. Or my foot."

Kurt rolled his eyes, and squeezed the trigger. BAM. The can jumped in the air. Blaine decided to ignore Kurt's crow of excitement and cracked open yet another beer.

Currently, the boys were somewhere on US-70. All Blaine knew was they had entered Utah an hour ago but beyond that, nothing. They didn't have a job yet, so a destination was pointless.

In the seat next to him, Kurt's shoes were off and he was curled up with the journal. He had fallen asleep, however, and Blaine kept sneaking glances when he wasn't watching the road. The late afternoon sun fell across his face, lighting up his skin. Never would he ever stop comparing Kurt to an angel. Even though angels, as far he knew, didn't exist. Nope, in Blaine's mind, Kurt had the looks of an angel and a tongue like a knife. He had hoped that spending so much time with Kurt would shake him of his foolish crush, but no. If anything, finding out all of Kurt's faults made the guy even more perfect. Blaine sighed. Love obviously made no sense.

He was shaken out of a content daydream involving him and Kurt holding hands while walking in New York City at Christmas by his phone cheerfully playing "I'm On A Boat."

Kurt groaned next to him and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Blaine fumbled for his phone, silently swearing to rip Wes a new one for waking up Kurt. He scowled at the phone as it kept ringing before finally figuring out how to answer. Kurt watched in sleepy amusement.

"What?" He snarled into the phone. Blaine saw Kurt's eyebrow rise but ignored it.

"BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINE!"

"MY DEAR HOBBIT!"

Blaine groaned aloud and held the phone against his chest to address Kurt. "Two of my friends from high school. Wesley McAllister and David Kingsley."

"And the ringtone?" Kurt asked.

"Wes's idea." Blaine reluctantly hit speakerphone and handed the hated contraption to Kurt so he could keep both hands on the wheel. "You guys do realize I have grown since high school right?"

"False." Blaine could hear Wes smirking.

"You are and always will be our little hobbit person!" Blaine heard a high five. He glared at Kurt who was snickering.

"It's true, you are kind of short for a guy." Kurt smiled apologetically.

"Oh my GOD, was that a guy? Blaine Warbler, do you have a man in your car?" David demanded.

"Are you screwing him yet?" Wes cut in eagerly.

"Is he hot?"

"'Course he's hot, why would Blaine shack up with a moose?"

"Good point. Is he a moose Blaine?"

"I'm NOT a moose." Kurt was blushing furiously at this point. "And no, Blaine and I are not fucking. Just friends."

"Bull—"

"—Shit."

"GUYS." Blaine's cheeks were hot, but fuck if those idiots were ever going to know. "Leave Kurt alone. He's telling the truth." He heard mumbling on the other end, but was reasonably certain they would behave for the rest of the conversation. "Was there a reason you two called?" The steering wheel was in a death grip, and Blaine tried to force himself to relax. Breaking his baby would not help his blood pressure.

Wes scoffed. "Maybe we just wanted to hear your beautiful voice, dear hobbit."

"Yeah ever think of that? We are hurt by your implying we needed a reason to call."

"Speaking of, you still singing and playing that old guitar?"

"No," Blaine avoided Kurt's questioning eyes.

"Huh. Shame. You were our best soloist." David sighed dramatically.

"Whatever. Guys. Calling me. Why."

"Still bossy." Wes remarked to David. "Anyway, things are weird here."

"Like really weird." David clarified.

"Your kind of weird." Wes paused. "Kurt knows about you right?"

Blaine clenched the steering wheel tighter. "Well if he didn't, he sure knows now…" he muttered under his breath.

Kurt shifted against the seat to get a more comfortable position. "Yes, I know."

Someone sighed—Blaine thought it was Wes. "Awesome. Codes would have been confusing."

"And tedious."

"Anyway," there was a noise as someone shifted the phone. Wes continued. "We think our dorm might be haunted."

There was a full minute of silence after that admission.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, David." Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why, may I ask, do you think your dorm is haunted?"

"I'm detecting disbelief."

"Last time you called me, you made me drive cross-country in the middle of the night because you were convinced some girl was a vampire." Blaine deadpanned. Kurt held a hand to his mouth to stifle the giggles.

"She looked the part!"

"SHE WAS A STRIPPER AT THE LOCAL TWILIGHT BAR."

"Well yeah, but David was laughing.

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO COVERED IN GLITTER IN MY LIFE!"

Kurt was openly laughing at this point. "Oh my god, I need this story."

"You'll never get it." Blaine informed his passenger darkly. "Why is your dorm haunted? You have 3 minutes to some up with a logical case otherwise I'm hanging up."

"Fine! Sheesh, someone's in a bad mood." Wes said sulkily.

"Well it sounds clich�, but…" David explained everything.

By the end, Blaine had to agree. The whole situation did seem suspicious. "Well Kurt," he grinned at the boy. "You up for Stanford?" Kurt's bright smile answered for him.

-Stanford, California-

Kevin O'Donnell stumbled back into his dorm at a quarter past 3 in the morning. His head ached from the amount of booze and shots he had downed earlier. But even with the alcohol, the pain of losing his best friend only days before was still fresh. Joey…

He flicked on the light, moaning as the rays attacked his bloodshot eyes. He really drank too much, Kevin decided, feeling his stomach lurch unpleasantly with every step. His roommate was still out, so he was on his own.

But…he wasn't. Even in his alcohol-induced haze, Kevin felt eyes following him around the room. His dorm was small; there were only a few places large enough for someone to hide in. Kevin hesitated, weighing options. He was a fairly large man at 6'1", maybe 225 lbs. He took boxing classes twice a week at the gym off campus and could hold his own in a fight. Kevin was afraid of no man.

For some reason, his thoughts kept returning to Joey. His friend, who had been found dead in his room two days before. Cold fear crept up Kevin's spine. Was this what happened to Joey?

Fuck it. Kevin balled up his fists and whirled around. The door looked back at him innocently. He quickly checked both closets, the beds, even under the desks. Nothing. So why was he still feeling watched? Shaking his now pounding head, he stripped to his boxers, tossing the dirty clothes over his desk chair.

A giggle.

What. The fuck. The fear came back, worse than ever. "W-who's there?" Kevin managed to choke out. Silence. His eyes darted around the room frantically, but there was nothing there. His heart was beating loudly, so loudly that it was hard to hear. No one emerged. He could hear the drunken laughter of some freshman outside but it was still inside his room. He was alone. But that giggle…Kevin really did not think of himself of imagining things, but who knows. He drank a lot more than usual tonight. That was it. Only his nerves. He nodded to himself, proud of coming up with a logical solution.

And yet…a tiny part of him begged to sleep with the lights on. But this was stupid. He was a grown man, dammit, he was not a sobbing little girl and he sure as fuck was not afraid of the dark. Kevin flicked the light switch off just as he felt a cold hand clamp down on his shoulder.

"What are we again? FBI agents?" Kurt whispered, tugging on his suit sleeve as he and Blaine approached Satanford's Crothers Hall. The dorm building was modern and clean, and looked a hell of a lot more roomy than Kurt's apartment housing back in New York. Kurt huffed to himself as he tried to sort through the set of ID cards and badges Blaine had made the day before.

Blaine fidgeted in his own suit and nodded. "Just let me do the talking. Smile and look pretty."

Kurt glared, but let Blaine take the lead. They met the residence hall coordinator, Amy Bradley, outside the doors. She was a small blond woman who was constantly smiling, though Kurt noticed it was strained. Not surprising, considering the ambulance parked outside and the two EMTs rolling a bagged body on a stretcher out the entrance. A few students were gathered outside, herded off to the side by police caution tape.

"We had an accident last night," the woman began nervously.

Flashing a badge, Blaine interrupted. "FBI, ma'am, Agents Bloom and Roeser," Blaine waved at Kurt, who fumbled his badge but eventually got it open. He smiled sheepishly at the woman who raised an eyebrow. "He's new." Blaine sighed. "Anyway, we are assigned to the murder investigation of a Mr. Joey Greco, but it appears we have another incident here?" Kurt marveled at how easily the lies rolled off Blaine's tongue. Years of practice had honed his impersonation skills well.

Ms. Bradley nodded and teared up. "They've labeled Joey's death murder then? I mean, I'd hoped it was just an accident, I can't imagine any of our students wanting to hurt each other like that…and oh! Yes, Kevin O'Donnell was just found by his roommate a few hours ago. You don't think the same person could have…?" Her eyes widened. "Oh my God we have a serial killer on campus? In Stanford?" Her voice was rapidly becoming more and more hysterical, but she appeared to calm down a little after Blaine comfortingly put his arm around her should and steered her away from the ambulance, motioning for Kurt to follow.

Inside the building in the common area, Blaine soothed the woman. Kurt was distracted by a flyer on the NEWS bulletin board. "What's this?" he interrupted.

The woman looked at the flyer he pointed at. "Oh. Mary Solomon. She's a student here." Pause. "Well she was. She's been missing for two weeks. Her roommate put up those fliers."

Kurt ignored Blaine's questioning eyes, focused on the HAVE YOU SEEN ME? picture. Mary was not beautiful. Mousy curly brown hair, mud-colored eyes, freckles, glasses and braces looked back at him. Her eyes were sad, though her thin mouth was curved up into a smile. It had the look of a posed school picture. He studied her photograph, wondering where she'd gone and why no one seemed that concerned. The woman was almost in tears over two deaths but a missing girl who in all probability was also dead got nothing more than a cursory glance. Yet another mystery here.

Somehow, Blaine managed to talk his way into seeing Greco's room, with the promise of looking at O'Donnell's the next day after the police had left. Once the coordinator left, mollified with Blaine swearing to return the key to her office when they were finished, the two fake agents began searching. Greco's roommate had been relocated after he found the body and refused to stay in the room. The chalk outline of where Greco had laid was still visible on the thin carpet.

The double room was split down the middle, with a bed, desk, closet and bureau on each side. The roommate's side was mostly bare, but Joseph Greco's was still furnished. There was a Playboy calendar and a Megan Fox poster hanging above the bed, and several photos attached to the corkboard wall near the desk. The desk held a few picture frames, mostly of Joseph and a pretty brunette or Joseph and the brunette and two other boys.

Kurt took out the police file that Blaine had somehow managed to procure from inside his jacket. He suspected hacking, but Blaine insisted it was "creative computing." Either way, they had the crime scene photos and a detailed field report from the officers on scene, plus information Kurt was positive was not for public consumption. He picked out the autopsy report and the photo of the body on the floor, handing the last to Blaine. It showed a fully clothed boy collapsed on the floor, face blue and swollen. The hands were drawn up to the chest, but the fingertips were red and had streaks of blood. The face would have been handsome, once upon a time. Had the owner been alive.

"'Joseph Aaron Greco, age nineteen, deceased October 21st, 2010. Kurt read as Blaine studied the photograph, then the floor. "The cause of death was asphyxiation, but the coroner couldn't find anything to indicate what was used. No fibers from pillows or sheets, no marks on the neck to indicate a rope or a cord, no water in the lungs so he didn't drown…" Kurt skimmed the report quickly. "There's no other damage to the body to suggest a struggle of any kind other than the fingers. His nails are torn off and the pads are all scratched up." He took out the close-up autopsy photograph of Greco's nails, which Blaine examined. Kurt continued. "The coroner says it looks like he was clawing at something, but the police couldn't find anything in the room. The door and windows were clean and locked. Plus his girlfriend said his hands were fine when she left him three hours before he was found. Basically, the guy died of suffocation with destroyed fingers in a clean locked room. They have no idea who did it." He threw up his hands in exasperation. Blaine wasn't really listening though. He had taken out some weird contraption that resembled a gutted Walkman (vaguely) fused with a few computer chips that had a row of light bulbs on one edge. There was even a short antenna. "Blaine, what the hell is that thing?" Kurt asked, watching Blaine wave it slowly around the room.

"It's an EMF meter." Kurt just stared. "It reads the strength of the electromagnetic field. Some supernatural beings, like ghosts, give off a lot of activity and this'll pick it up. Anything that uses electricity gives off some, but with ghosts, you'll know when..." Blaine grinned as the device suddenly lit up completely and squealed. "Bingo!" He peeled the photograph of Greco, his girlfriend, and two other boys standing in front of the Stanford sign off the wall. He waved it at Kurt. "What do you say we talk to the girlfriend? Maybe she can tell us who these other two are…" Blaine continued spinning theories and ideas while Kurt repacked the police file (not before taking out the interview with the girlfriend though) and locked the door.

Blaine seemed so happy to be on a case that he didn't stop talking as they made their way to Marissa Clarke's dorm room. He was like a puppy, fairly giddy with excitement. Kurt wondered if it was because he finally had a job to do or because he had someone to do the job with. By the way Blaine kept bumping Kurt's shoulders and asking his opinions, though, Kurt had a good idea. Blaine had been lonely before Lima, but now he had Kurt. And Kurt was perfectly happy with this observation.

Marissa Clarke was the brunette in the photo. She was probably normally beautiful, but now her wide blue eyes were bloodshot and her small, round face was blotchy from crying. Regardless, her long brown hair had been straightened and she wore a fitted tank top and skinny leg jeans paired with stylish heels. Kurt's inner fashionista approved. Thankfully, her roommate was out, and she let them in after she inspected their badges. "Pre-Law," she said by way of explanation when Blaine had raised his eyebrows after she took at least two minutes to verify their FBI status. Kurt was privately very proud of the fact he hadn't outwardly freaked out during that time, instead plastering on his best bored face.

Her room was the epitome of 'girly.' Huge pink flower wall stickers were plastered on the dorms walls, both beds had patterned pink comforters, and a giant furry pink beanbag chair rested on the floor. Where the flowers left space, Marissa had decorated the walls with photos of her friends and family. Kevin was prominently featured, as were the other two still-nameless boys. Her roommate was apparently some kind of science major, judging by the huge thick textbooks on her desk and chair. Marissa gestured vaguely at the seating, indicating that they should sit down as she sank on her unmade bed.

Exchanging glances, Kurt saw a twinkle in Blaine's eye. Uh oh. Bad. Before Kurt could react, Blaine was in Marissa's desk chair. Kurt shot him an evil glare as he attempted to sit on the beanbag and retain some dignity. Judging by Blaine's snickers, he wasn't succeeding. Stupid Blaine.

"I already told the police everything I knew about Kevin," Marissa sniffled. A box of tissues appeared in Blaine's hand, and she shyly smiled at him as she took one. "Why is the FBI getting involved now?"

If Kurt was an eviler person, he would have laughed at Blaine's suddenly nervous expression. Pre-Law majors must not usually be interviewed. He decided to be nice. "We were requested to help after they found the second body this morning. Since the FBI has jurisdiction in serial killings." Kurt tried not to look too smug at Blaine's shocked face. Watching Bones and Law and Order for days while stuck in the hospital that one dark time finally paid off. But Marissa was nodding.

"That makes sense. So they think Kev's death is connected to Joey's?" Tears welled up in her eyes. Blaine held out the box of tissues again. "Thanks," she dabbed at her eyes. "It's just hard, you know? Two friends dying on you like this."

Blaine perked up at this. "You knew Mr. O'Donnell well, then?"

She nodded and pointed at a picture on the wall behind her. It was the same as the one Kurt currently had hidden in his jacket. "That's him," Marissa pointed at the blond boy in the polo next to her, leaving just the red-head left to identify.

"Who is the last guy?"

"Nick Holden. We're all friends." Her voice trembled. "We're all Pre-Law, and we met in freshman year. We hang out all the time, we're in the same classes, and Joey and I started dating last summer." More tears. "I can't believe two of us are just gone!" She sobbed and blew her nose, sounding remarkably like a tugboat. Kurt shifted on the beanbag chair at this unceremonious thought. He really should work on being nicer. Blaine was amazing at comfort. Though Kurt had learned that first-hand. Watching him work with Marissa, though, Kurt had to wonder how many people Blaine had sobbing into his shoulder on a daily basis, and woah was that jealousy? Hummel was clearly bored.

"Marissa, may we ask you some questions?" She nodded at Blaine's warm smile. Kurt tried not to gag. "Did Joey or Kevin have any enemies? Anyone who would be upset with them for some reason?"

She was already shaking her head. "No! Everyone loved them! They were so kind and sweet to everyone." Marissa blew her nose again. "Junior year sucks," she mumbled into the tissue. "I have so many classes; two of my friends are dead…"

"One of your classmates is missing…" Kurt added, surprised when she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That's not a bad thing?" He frowned.

She snorted. "Well yeah, I mean anyone missing is a bad thing. But Mary was just super annoying. She was such a dork and thought she had what it took to be a successful lawyer when clearly she was destined to be a lackey forever."

Kurt inexplicably felt the tingles of rage float around his chest. "What do you mean?" he said tightly. Blaine was quiet, letting the scene play out.

Marissa needed little prodding. "Well just look at her." She rolled her eyes. "No jury would have ever take anything she said seriously. I mean the girl wore peasant dresses our first year. Like dresses out of 'Little House on the Prairie' cause she was from Nebraska and home-schooled or something. I don't know. And she was super religious; always talking about God and Jesus."

"Did she preach at you?" Kurt asked, still bristling.

Shifting uncomfortably under Kurt's stare, Marissa pouted. "Not…really. But she thought it. You could see it when we talked about going to parties and stuff. No one liked her. She didn't have any friends." She glared defiantly at Kurt. "I think you two should leave now." Marissa shut the door behind him a tad forcefully.

Their conversation with Nick Holden was similar minus the constant crying. He was upset about his two best friends dying, but he seemed a bit too nervous. Kurt couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was off. The red-head's eyes kept darting around the room and he jumped about a foot once when Blaine patted his shoulder. And Blaine was about as terrifying as a puppy.

Nick repeated that no, his friends didn't have any enemies, yes, everyone liked them, and no, he had no idea who would want them dead. Then, to Kurt's surprise, Blaine mentioned Mary Solomon. Nick's demeanor changed almost instantly. If he had been nervous before, he was downright terrified now. He guiltily admitted that yeah, no one liked Mary, Marissa seemed to have it in for girl, and no, he didn't know where she was either. That last statement was delivered with quite a bit more nervously than the other. Finally though, Blaine said they'd be in touch and Nick let them out with visible relief.

Outside, Blaine sighed. "This is such a mess. But we need to talk about what happened with Marissa." He met Kurt's glare easily. "You can't let your feelings rule questionings like that. No one will tell you anything if you put them on the defensive." Kurt had spun on his heel and stalked towards the stairs at the mention of Marissa. "I mean it, Kurt," Blaine spoke to Kurt's back.

"She judged Mary on little more than clothing and her hometown. She hated her for no reason at all." Kurt snapped. He wasn't sure why Mary affected him so much. She was just a missing junior at a college in California, a girl he'd never seen before. Yet he felt like he knew her and her suffering. Apparently college could be as bad as high school, and he was thankful he'd made the decision to go to New York after graduation. Blaine was still following, but Kurt wasn't particularly interested in what he had to say.

Once Blaine finally caught up with him at the car, Kurt allowed himself to be addressed. "Something about Mary is bothering you." Blaine stated. He waited.

"I just don't like that she's been missing for two weeks and no one cares."

"No. It's more than that. But I do think you're on to something." Blaine unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. Kurt followed a few seconds later.

"You do?"

Blaine nodded. "It is suspicious. Mary goes missing. Then two people die. And those two people are part of the same group, a group that includes a girl that irrationally hates the missing girl. Nick practically had a heart attack when I mentioned her name. Also," Blaine turned to look at Kurt. "Marissa referred to Mary in the past tense."

Kurt could only nod in agreement. Even if Blaine could be a complete goofball, one thing was certain. He was damn good at his job. They drove off to a nearby motel to wait for Wes and David.

Meeting Wes and David wasn't nearly as terrifying as Kurt was expecting after the phone call. After initially threatening Kurt with various forms of bodily form if he broke Blaine's heart (neither believed Kurt nor Blaine's assertions that they were strictly friends and not dating) David declared Kurt to be "adorable" and "a hot piece of ass" and they bought Kurt his drinks for the night. Regardless of being certifiably insane, Kurt found the black guy (David, Blaine said) and Asian (Wes) hilarious and the four had a good hour of fun before Blaine made them discuss business.

Neither David nor Wes personally knew Mary, the victims or Marissa and Nick. "Not that we should," David explained. "If they were in Pre-Law like you said. We're performance majors. Acting. We really don't know anyone outside our major or floor. Plus we're seniors." Kurt nodded, knowing the feeling.

Wes hesitated before speaking. "Mary was kind of infamous though," he admitted. "People weren't very nice to her. Like earlier this year someone Photoshopped her head on a Playboy body and put it all over the hall with her room and cell number."

David nodded somberly. "Wes and I took them down on our floor but apparently some guys were already leaving explicit voicemails for her. The faculty yelled at us but there's not much you can do with college guys." He took a large swig of beer. "Honestly I just felt bad for her."

So why didn't you do something? Kurt felt like screaming. But he held his tongue. Interfering with bullying was hard. He knew. But he had little love for bystanders. He drank deeply to avoid having to comment.

He did not, however, miss the fact that Blaine was watching him. That boy was too observant for his own good. Kurt scowled into his beer. He didn't even like beer all that much. But he had felt guilty about ordering something else when Wes had shouted for the waitress to bring over a pitcher for the four of them. He felt Blaine's knee nudge his leg under the table. But when he looked up, Blaine was saying something to Wes.

"Have you heard any rumors about why she might have run away?"

Wes shook his head. "No. Not really. Some girl was talking about how Mary had probably gone back home to her parents, but I don't know. Mary studied a lot. We saw her in the commons area. Up past midnight with a huge book in front of her."

"You should talk to her roommate." David suggested. "Laura was the one that raised hell after the Playboy pictures and she put up the 'missing' fliers. I think she's the one that reported Mary's disappearance too." He shrugged.

"Worth a thought," Blaine mused. He drained the last of his cup. "You wanna stay and finish that?" Blaine waved at Kurt's quarter-filled beer.

"No, we can go," Kurt set down his cup hurriedly and shrugged into his coat. "It was nice meeting you guys. Though you both are crazy." He held out his hand.

"It's a common observation," David grinned, shaking his hand.

"Don't keep Blaine up all night!" Wes said with a knowing smile. He hugged Kurt and ran out before the other could correct his assumption. David shot them a thumbs up before chasing after Wes.

Blushing a deep red, Kurt informed Blaine that he had weird friends. Blaine just laughed at him.

Kurt Hummel was really fucking bored. Two hours of reading about how to kill a ghost in a handwritten notebook with really curvy font was getting to him. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and sighed. Loudly. From his position on one of the beds, he glanced at Blaine, who was sitting in the lone chair reading through the police report on Joey Greco and pointedly ignoring Kurt. Bitch, Kurt thought sourly, glaring at the passage he was supposed to be reading.

"I swear this book gets more words the longer I read," he complained. "It's growing. There are definitely more pages than there were an hour ago." Kurt tossed it at the foot of the bed and leaned back against the pillows. He shut his eyes.

"You could go to sleep," Blaine said absently.

Snorting, Kurt looked around the room. It was a generic motel room. Two queen beds (the woman at the front desk raised an eye brow at this), a table, a chair, a dresser with a TV, paintings of a barn, a bathroom, and a closet. The color scheme was green, and Kurt wanted to find the designer of this room and beat his head in with a color wheel. Because the green wallpaper, bright purple comforters, and tan carpet didn't match in any dimension. When Blaine said crappy motel rooms were a given, he'd been underselling it.

Kurt watched Blaine flip another page. Those glasses were kind of cute on him actually. They were a plain black with ticker frames, but were not in the pretentious hipster-range of thickness. Blaine's hair, freed from the gel he had used that day so he'd "look more professional and less like a hobo" curled lazily. And sexily. It looked soft. He wondered what those curls would feel like under his fingers…Kurt shook his head. Bad train of thought. Blaine was ridiculously good-looking, and yes, Kurt knew he was gay after the sewers in Lima, but it was too soon after Jesse and way too soon after his father for Kurt to be in a relationship. Plus he liked Blaine and didn't want to damage this friendship. Living together on the road was amazing. Kurt had never connected with someone so quickly or so deeply and non-platonic feelings would only complicate things. But Blaine needed to stop wear t-shirts that were so tight because Kurt could see that Blaine was absolutely ripped under that thin fabric and his hands ached to just touch and oh god Blaine saw him staring. Awesome.

"See something you like?" Blaine grinned at Kurt's flushed face.

Bastard. Kurt ignored him and picked his book back up, trying to will his blush away. He was concentrating on the book so hard he didn't notice Blaine get up and walk over to the bed until the book was yanked out of his hands.

"It's late. Go to sleep." Blaine put the book on the table and sat down on his own bed. He took off his glasses and reached to turn off the lamp.

"Why aren't you pushing me about Mary?" Kurt burst out. Whoops. His mouth was irritating sometimes. He definitely did not mean to say that.

Blaine, meanwhile, just shrugged. "Well, I know something about her bothers you. But if you are really serious about staying with me and being a hunter—"

"I am."

"—Then you'll tell me eventually." Blaine crossed his legs. "It's hard to keep secrets when you live with someone every hour of every day. You'll get sick of me yet," he grinned again.

"No I won't." Kurt said quickly. Blaine raised an eyebrow at this, but smiled faintly. "I mean, you aren't that annoying." Dammit, he was blushing again. "Anyway—stop laughing! Anyway, I'll tell you why I think Mary is sticking with me." Blaine stopped giggling and waited patiently. Kurt fiddled with the edge of the comforter before continuing.

"When I was in high school back in Ohio, I was the only out kid in my school." Blaine's eyes had turned concerned. Kurt pushed on. "A lot of the jocks had a problem with that. I was bullied pretty much from freshman year on." He brushed away a tear. It'd been years, why was he suddenly getting weepy about long ago torments? But the memories kept coming back. "It was more physical than Mary's seemed to be. Getting pushed into the lockers, thrown in the dumpster, things like that." And getting called "fag" or "lady" or "fairy" daily. Those had hurt too. "And getting slushied. Those weren't fun. Our school had a slushie machine and the jocks liked to toss the slushies in losers' faces." He explained when Blaine looked confused. "I just know what it must have felt like for Mary. All those people around her, and no one really tried to stop the harassment. Because no one really cared enough to. Not even your friends." He stiffened when he felt Blaine sit down next to him. But he let his hand be pried off the comforter before the poor fabric tore under his fingers and held.

"People suck." Blaine said simply. He didn't say he was sorry or anything Kurt had heard a million times before. He just sat there with Kurt, holding his hands and understanding.

Kurt thought that was when he knew he loved Blaine Anderson.

Mary's roommate was not what Blaine was expecting. Not having much experience with colleges beyond the odd TV show, Blaine thought she'd be another clone of Marissa—perfectly put together and somewhat bitchy. Laura Hamilton had dark brown hair tied back in a messy bun, glasses, and comfort clothes. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed (which she might have, seeing as it was almost 10 and Kurt didn't know the meaning of sleeping in). Dark circles were visible under her exhausted eyes, but they lit up when Kurt and Blaine introduced themselves as FBI agents.

"Someone's finally looking for Mary? Thank God," she opened the door fully to let them in. The room was actually pretty clean, though her desk was covered in books and paper. Like other dorms, there were candid photos of Laura and her family and friends on the walls. In contrast, Mary's side was bare. She had two photos: One of her and her family in front of an ancient farmhouse, and one of her and Laura on Laura's bed. Mary's books were neatly organized and the desk was bare of any stray papers. Blaine thought it resembled a much older person's room than a college girl's. Just about the only thing out of place was an asthma inhaler that was just tossed on the desk as if it had been forgotten. "Everything's exactly as she left it." Laura spoke from behind Blaine. "She was always neat and tidy."

He nodded. Kurt was studying the pictures, so Blaine figured he might as well get some information from the roommate. He slipped into "Friendly FBI Agent" mode and had Laura sit down to put her at ease. He brought her desk chair around for himself.

"You seem happy that we were called in for Mary's case," Blaine started.

Laura nodded quickly. "Yeah. No one here was worried at all. They all just said she probably went to a party, passed out, and she'd be back the next day. Nevermind that I told them that Mary doesn't drink or go to parties. Something happened to her." She stubbornly held her chin high. "Do you have any theories yet?"

"Um…we have some ideas," Kurt gestured at the desk. "Can I look through her drawers?" Laura shrugged, so he went back to ignoring the conversation and began rifling through Mary's things.

"Do you have any idea where she might have gone the night of October 6?" Laura was already shaking her head. Blaine tried again. "Do you know why she might have left the dorm then?"

Blaine watched her play with her blankets. He could tell she was reluctant to answer, but she got over her fear and looked him straight in the eye. "Look," Laura began, biting her lip. "I'm not going to pretend that Mary and I were best friends. We've only known each other since August. But she was a nice girl, if people ever bothered to learn." The last sentence had so much venom in it Blaine flinched. "I was out that night with some friends. I left around 10. Mary said she was going to have an early night and that I should take a key in case she wasn't awake when I got back. I didn't go back that night," she admitted sheepishly.

Oh. Well. Blaine wasn't even fazed. He could bet Kurt was an adorable shade of pink at the moment, but he was a gentleman and would not turn around to check. That would be rude.

"Did Mary have any enemies? Anyone who would want to cause her harm?" Blaine thought he knew what Laura would say. Sure enough, her face darkened and she scowled.

"Everyone made fun of her and how she looked. I thought bullies were only high school problems, you know? But no," She sighed. "Bullies exist everywhere. The worst though, was this girl, Marissa Clarke." Blaine saw Kurt look at him knowingly. "I never understood why that girl had it in for Mary. She and her clique of boytoys. You know how she's telling everyone she was dating Joey before he died? Nope," Laura gave a short bark of laughter. "She was fucking all of them."

Just when his opinion of Miss Marissa Clarke couldn't get lower. It blew Blaine's mind that some people could be so cruel. "What sort of bullying did they do to Mary?"

Laura looked ready to be sick suddenly. "Well, at first it was kind of harmless. Just name-calling on the way to class, hate notes in her bag or on our door. Once someone superglued Mary's text book shut right before an exam. This was going on for years, apparently. Mary told me about it one night. Then this year, I think it got worse. There was the Playboy flyer that went up the first week. Marissa started spreading rumors about Mary having HIV and herpes, which she didn't. Mary was still a virgin." Blaine tried not to react, he really did. But the girl was twenty years old. "She didn't have many takers after Marissa's smear campaign." That would explain a lot. "I think there was a lot Mary didn't tell me though," Laura mused slowly, looking at the faded carpet instead of Blaine. "She was really defensive and quiet. It took me weeks to get her to explain why Marissa always glared at us. Mary just had these crazy walls and barely trusted anyone after what that clique did to her. The bastards." Laura spat out.

"So I take it you aren't too upset with their deaths?"

Laura started. "What? I mean, people dying sucks, but I will be the first to say that those two had it coming. Maybe they didn't deserve to die," she was rapidly getting angry. "But they certainly deserved to be punished. Karma's a bitch."

Holding a stack of paper, Kurt waved to get their attention. "Did Mary say anything about having a secret admirer?" Blaine just stared, wondering what Kurt was getting at. Laura shook her head.

"Um, no? She didn't say anything to me about it," Laura could not keep the confusion out of her voice, and Blaine thought it seemed genuine. "Why?"

Kurt didn't answer her, but shot Blaine a look before heading to the door. Blaine stood up and excused them, saying how Laura had been a great help and that they'd be in touched. Just before they left, though, Laura called out.

"Agents?"

Blaine and Kurt turned around and paused.

"Please find her. She doesn't deserve to be forgotten like this." Laura's eyes welled with tears.

"We will." Blaine heard Kurt say. Laura nodded her thanks and shut the door.

Blaine decided they should eat lunch before stopping by the police station to get the autopsy report on O'Donnell. It was a nice day, and he needed a break to mentally prepare himself for searching the room of yet another victim. He also had a few things he wanted to clear up with Kurt, who was obviously thinking hard about something. Blaine could tell by the way Kurt's eyes had clouded over and were staring at nothing. Which is how they wound up in a small caf� eating salads and sandwiches.

The caf� was cute, and they were sitting outside. Blaine munched happily at his turkey BLT on sourdough while watching college students walk past in various stages of panic and Kurt picked at his salad and read the papers he had taken from Mary's room.

"Whadtcha readin'?" Blaine asked though a mouthful of bread and turkey.

Kurt shot him disapproving look. "Blaine Anderson, don't talk with your mouth full." Kurt scolded. The boy took another polite forkful of lettuce and dressing before returning to his papers.

Swallowing quickly, Blaine smiled apologetically. He forgot his manners a lot. Living on your own for a while will do that to anyone. But he was getting back into the habit now. Especially since Kurt was a big stickler for manners.

"Sorry." Blaine tried again. "What are those? And why were you asking about secret admirers earlier?"

For some reason, Kurt frowned at the sheet he was looking at. "These are love poems." Kurt handed a few to Blaine. Yeah, they were love poems. And they were really sappy. Cotton candy and marshmallows had less fluff than these. "I think someone was sending these to Mary. Her handwriting doesn't match these."

"Well, that's good isn't it? Someone liked her." Blaine was about to take another bite, but stopped at Kurt's miserable expression.

He didn't want to see that expression ever again. It tore at his heart to see Kurt so uncomfortable and upset. "What's wrong?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt fidgeted in his seat before answering. "Well—it's just—this is all speculation, ok?" Blaine couldn't believe Kurt was actually nervous. Confident, sassy, proud Kurt was stuttering and avoiding his eyes. "I think it may have been fake. I think someone was setting her up by sending these notes."

Nodding slowly, Blaine was connecting together Kurt's theory. "So that's how they lured her out of her room. She probably got a text or something from the 'secret admirer' and went to meet him. And she was too embarrassed to tell her roommate?"

"That would be my guess." Kurt admitted quietly, still looking at his salad.

"So she might have left the dorms voluntarily and met someone somewhere. And then something went wrong." Blaine watched as Kurt nodded, still avoiding his face though. "And who do we know that would put so much effort into humiliating Mary?"

A snort. "Marissa."

"Yeah. And her clique. And who is dying now?"

Realization dawned on Kurt's face. He finally met Blaine's eyes with his wide blue ones. "Marissa's clique." He said with fascinated horror.

Blaine nodded grimly. "I think you're probably right. Marissa, Joey, Kev, and Nick got Mary to a secluded location, something happened, and Mary wound up dead. And now her ghost is taking revenge."

The sudden coldness in Kurt scared Blaine. "Great. We should just let this be then. Let her have her revenge." Kurt spat out bitterly. His arms were folded protectively against his chest and Kurt's shoulders were tight and drawn up.

"Kurt…" Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hand but the other boy twisted away. Frustrated, Blaine let his hand drop to the table empty. "I know this is hard for you—"

"—No you don't." Kurt hissed at him. "You don't know what it's like to be powerless against bullies every single day. To be at their mercy. Sure you hold your head high and claim to ignore their petty insults and childish attacks but it's all fake. Every day, you just wish for the power to fight back physically. 'Cause words don't work." So much bitterness and anger dripped from every word that Blaine felt his heart close to breaking. Kurt had suffered through all that? "We should let her have her moment. They had their chance to turn it around."

It killed Blaine to say these words. "Kurt, even as bad as Marissa and the rest of them are," he ignored Kurt's scoff and continued. "They don't deserve to die. It might have been an accident. And even if not, this is what the judicial system is for." Kurt was staring at Blaine with a carefully blank face. "I don't like it either. I do think Mary should have justice because what they did is unforgivable. But I want justice, Kurt. Not revenge. Revenge is never the answer." He hoped he could get through to Kurt because the poor guy was just so angry. Blaine really couldn't blame him for feeling the way he did, but murder was still wrong. Come on Kurt. Do the right thing.

Conflicted feelings battled it out in Kurt's face. Finally he sighed, and held out his hand. Blaine eagerly grabbed it, happily squeezing in what he hoped Kurt recognized as comfort. Blaine really liked to hold hands.

"I don't like this." Kurt announced, glaring at Blaine. "But you have to promise that the survivors get put away for a long time."

"Done." Blaine grinned, and after a few seconds, Kurt cracked a smile too.

"They don't know anything. Stop being such a baby!" Nick Holden winced at Marrisa's shrill voice stabbing his ear. He moved the phone away slightly before speaking again.

"The FBI guys asked me specifically about Mary! They have to know!" He bit his lip. "We should tell." Nick was trying to ignore the guilt that had been churning his stomach for the past two weeks, but it was getting harder. Especially now that he felt cornered.

But Marissa was having none of it. This girl was psychotic. Why hadn't he realized before? A decidedly non-PG image of her barely clothed body rose in his mind. Yep. That was why.

"We are not going to tell. No one can prove anything. All we have to do is lie low and this will blow over unless you can't get a grip on yourself!" Marissa was practically screaming by the end.

Nerves were getting the best of Nick, and he knew it. "Joey and Kevin are dead, Rissy! Dead! Doesn't that seem weird to you? Two of the four people with this secret are gone. You or I could be next! We need protection!" Nick didn't mention how he had been feeling like he was being followed all day. Or how he kept looking over his shoulder. Or how he'd felt light touches brushing his body for the past couple hours. He was terrified.

Nick didn't believe in ghosts. But with what happened to Mary and now the deaths, he was strongly reconsidering his stance. He wished his roommate was back from his family visit. Being alone, even during the day, was scaring Nick more than it should. His nerves were screaming for him to get out.

The lights flickered. Nick heard Marissa's voice faintly, but he wasn't listening. The temperature in the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees. "Marissa?" he whispered, gripping the phone tight.

He felt his heart speed up and began hyperventilating, watching with horror as the flickering lights continued to cast strange shadows in the room. Wait. In the corner.

Oh my God, no.

Nick dropped his phone and backed up against his closet. Marissa's voice floated out of the phone, crackling. "Nick? What's going on? Nick? Nick?"

The shadow in the corner winked out of sight before reappearing even closer. It was a girl, with long stringy brown hair and a dirty white dress. He saw blood drip off her fingertips, vanishing before hitting the carpet. She kept her head down, staring at her feet. He couldn't see her face. Nick had never been so terrified in his life.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'm so, so sorry about what happened." Tears filled his eyes. He was only 20 years old, he wasn't ready to die.

The girl raised her head. Anger burned in her jet black eyes, which were rimmed with red. Her skin was pale and scratched. A low snarl began in the back of her throat as she raised her bloodied hands towards him.

Somehow, through his terror, Nick heard his door bang and a muffled voice shouting. He was numb though, and couldn't move or call out. He just watched as Mary took another step towards him, occasionally flickering like she was a picture from an old projector. I'm going to die, Nick thought vaguely.

Outside Nick's door, Blaine was cursing loudly. Kurt stood to the side with an iron fireplace poker. He hadn't protested when Blaine handed it to him, but did briefly wonder why Blaine kept one in his car. Blaine held the shotgun loaded with rock salt.

"Door's locked." Blaine scowled. "I can't break this down." A scream erupted from inside, causing Kurt to jump. "Fuck. Fuck!" Blaine shoved his shotgun at Kurt, who barley caught it, and hunted through his bag for the other one he brought. "Stand back," he warned Kurt before leveling the new gun (this one loaded with actual buckshot) at the door.

BAM.

A plate-sized hole opened in the wooden door. Through it, Blaine could see Mary's ghost about to grab Nick. She had a triumphant smile on. Blaine quickly switched shotguns again, poked the salt-loaded one through the hole, and fired. With a shocked scream, Mary disappeared. Nick howled as salt dug into his skin, though Blaine honestly couldn't feel too bad about it. He put his hand through the door and felt around before finally unlocking the damn thing. He strode in, glaring. Kurt followed silently.

Nick remained on the floor, moaning in pain. He was coherent enough to realize he was safe though. "What…the fuck…was that?" he huffed out between breaths.

"That was a ghost," Blaine replied shortly, reloading his gun.

"And you…shot it?"

"Rock salt. Ghosts don't like it. Or iron," Blaine gestured vaguely at Kurt's weapon. "Doesn't kill them, but dispels them for a little while. How long depends on the ghost though, so I suggest you come with us. Now." He yanked Nick up, ignoring his cries of pain and protest, and shoved him out the door before him. He wasn't coddling this idiot one bit. Seeing Mary going after him pretty much cemented Blaine's theory of them killing the poor girl in his mind.

People were poking their heads out their dorms in the hallway, faces filled with confusion and fear. It was the middle of the day, but gunshots and screams tended to wake even the heaviest sleepers.

"FBI. Go back to your rooms. Everything's fine." Kurt flashed his badge as he followed Blaine and Nick down the hallway.

Blaine practically threw Nick into the elevator before stabbing at the third floor button. He felt Kurt's hand on his shoulder and his friend's voice in his ear.

"Look, I hate him too, but you've got to calm down. He won't tell us anything if he's on the defensive." Kurt murmured softly.

That wasn't fair. Blaine glared at Kurt, deeply regretting saying those words only yesterday. Screw calming down. This guy killed someone and hid. Like a coward. And now Blaine was expected to save his undeserving ass. He could preach all day about doing the right thing, but the actual act was much harder. He glanced over at Nick, who was sitting on the floor hugging his knees. The junior's shoulders were shaking and his eyes were wide and glassy. Blaine groaned to himself, knowing Kurt was right. When the elevator doors opened, he accepted the duffel bag off Kurt's shoulder and watched Kurt haul up Nick out the door. He noticed Kurt wasn't too careful either.

Once they reached Marissa's room, Blaine banged on the door. They heard faint rustling, but no one answered. Impatiently, Blaine knocked again, this time shouting "FBI! Open up!"

The door opened, revealing Marissa with a hand on her hip. Blaine raised an eyebrow. This chick was actually giving them attitude? He saw Kurt purse his lips and smirk. Well shit, Marissa had better look out because Kurt looked ready to deliver a verbal smackdown of epic proportions. However, Kurt settled for shoving Nick at her and stepping over their tangled forms daintily.

"We have some things to discuss." Kurt sat in the desk chair and crossed his arms. Oh yes, that was his bitchface. In full force. Blaine tried to hide a smile at Marissa's sudden fear-filled face. Kurt watched coolly as Marissa tried to recover.

"Why'd you hang up on me?" she snapped at Nick, ignoring Kurt. "And what'd you do to your hands?" she added, noticing his torn up fingers.

Nick only looked at her miserably, before Kurt rescued him. "He was too busy being murdered by Mary Solomon's ghost." Kurt said calmly. "Though those hands look pretty bad…"

"Ghost?" Marissa shrieked.

Blaine examined Nick's hands. They had the same wounds as Joey's and Kevin's (he and Kurt had stopped by the morgue before rushing to the college). "Yeah, ghost. Some ghosts will cause their victims to suffer the same injuries they did before dying. It seems like Mary was clawing her way out of something before she died." He looked at Nick's wide eyes. "Any ideas what?" Blaine directed this question to both teenagers. Marissa cocked her hip again.

Sighing, Kurt rubbed his face. "Look. Here's the thing. We know you tortured the girl." Marissa scoffed. "We know about the notes." At this, Nick suddenly gulped and avoided Kurt and Blaine's eyes. Marissa continued ignoring the whole situation. Blaine snapped.

"That girl died because of you. No, don't deny it. The truth is written all over Nick's face." Blaine stepped towards her. "She is hunting you down and killing all of you. She murdered Joey, she murdered Kevin, and now she's after you two. Now, Kurt and I need to know what happened, and where, so we can save your sorry asses." His voice rose with every word until he was practically shouting.

"There are no such things as ghosts." Marissa studied her manicured nails.

"Yes there are." Nick finally spoke. Hoarsely, but he stood up and met Blaine's eyes. "I'm going to tell, Marissa."

"No you won't, because there's nothing to tell!" she hissed, blue eyes flashing angrily. They were so unlike Kurt's, Blaine noticed. Where Kurt had regalness and amusement, Marissa only had cold calculation and anger.

Nick took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." His voice broke, eyes darting from Blaine to Kurt. "I'm so, so sorry. She didn't deserve what happened."

Nodding his head, Kurt agreed. "No she didn't."

"It was Marissa's idea."

The girl cut in angrily. "It was not!"

"Shut. Up." Kurt glared at her and stood up. He had a good four inches on Marissa and he used them expertly. She seemed to shrink before his tirade. "I have had it up to here with you! This whole situation, while not entirely your fault, has a great deal to do with you, so I would like for you to man up and accept your punishment! Now, you are lucky Blaine is here, otherwise I would have just let Mary have her way with you because goodness knows you deserve it." By now, Marissa had backed into the bed, mouth agape. Blaine thought it was the first time any one had ever stood up to her. "You WILL sit down, and NOT interrupt again unless it is to give necessary details. And when this is over, you WILL go to the police and confess everything. Otherwise you are on your own."

Marissa settled for angrily glaring at Kurt, but stayed quiet. Kurt nodded for Nick to continue.

"A-anyway," Nick began again. "Rissy thought it'd be fun to send Mary love poems. You know, just to mess with her a bit." Blaine heard Kurt snort. "And then, um, one night, Rissy had Joey text her saying to meet him in the woods just outside town. Kevin stole her phone once, that's why we knew her number. Anyway. At the woods. Well Joey was in the car and the rest of us were hiding in the trees where she couldn't see us. So Joey got her into the woods and then we um," Nick trailed off, looking guilty.

Blaine saw that Kurt was in no mood to be comforting, so he took charge. "Just keep going," he advised.

"Right. So then we jumped out and were saying some stuff and she got really upset and tried to leave, but Marissa stopped her. Then Kevin picked her up and we locked her into this old shed we'd found earlier." Nick said, shifting his weight and avoiding Kurt's glare.

The lights flickered. Fuck, Blaine thought as Nick's face went pale. Kurt and Marissa, not knowing what this meant, glanced around the room apprehensively while the lights wavered again. Blaine tightened his hold on his sawn-off shotgun. Then he saw her. Behind Kurt.

"Kurt!" He fired just as Kurt instinctively ducked, but Mary had vanished before the salt hit her. She flickered back into view next to Marissa.

Her eyes were smoldering with anger and hate, and her bloodied hands were clenched into fists at her side. "They left me in there," she hissed, her voice echoing as if coming from a long distance. "As I pounded and scratched at the door." There was a whimper from Blaine's right, probably Nick. Marissa had hidden behind Kurt, squeezing his shoulders. Blaine tried to ignore a brief flare of jealousy at the sight of her touching Kurt. Mary's ghost winked out of sight before reappearing in front of Kurt and Marissa, snarling. Blaine didn't think Kurt's eyes could possibly get any wider. "They left me to die when I screamed that I couldn't breathe!" Mary's face was inches from Marissa's. Then Blaine remembered the inhaler in Mary's room.

Everything was clicking into place. "So that's what happened?" he said wonderingly. Mary turned her red-rimmed eyes to his, though didn't move. Kurt and Marissa were frozen, while Nick backed against the door and sobbed quietly. Blaine licked his dry lips. The words began pouring out. "It all makes sense now! That's why this is happening!" He ignored Kurt's What-the-hell-are-you-on? look. "They led you out to the shed, and locked you in. You tried to get out, but they wouldn't open the door. You tore up your fingers on the door, but you were trapped. And you have asthma." The lights flickered dangerously again. "Right. Asthma. So you started to have an attack. But they still didn't let you out, and by the time they realized you were in serious trouble, it was too late and you died. Died because you couldn't breathe." Marissa's fingers were digging into Kurt's shoulder hard enough for him to wince. "But that's not all. No," Blaine stepped towards Mary, who remained still. "because you might have forgiven that. What you couldn't forgive is when they walked away and left your body. You didn't want them to live free of consequence. So you took matters into your own hands. Literally. You made them suffer as you had suffered. The hands. Suffocating." Blaine's voice was soft at the end, full of sympathy and understanding.

As Mary gazed at him, something shifted in her eyes. She was gone for a second, back, then gone again. The lights shone steadily. Everyone stayed still, breathing heavily. Finally—

"Is she gone?" Marissa whispered.

"No." Mary's ghost grabbed Marissa's neck with her mauled hands and everything went to hell. The lights resumed flashing, papers swirled around the room and Blaine felt himself shoved out of the room along with Nick. The door slammed shut, but not before Blaine saw Kurt's terrified face.

"Kurt!" He banged on the door, but it remained stubbornly solid. The pounding and yelling drew attention though, as people poked their heads out their dorms. From within, Blaine heard Marissa screaming. He was trying to think, think, about how to save his best friend. "Listen! Listen, Kurt can you hear me? Can you hear me? Kurt!" He kicked the door desperately, but the stainless steel lock wouldn't budge.

"I can hear you!" Kurt's voice was slightly muffled, but thank god. Blaine prayed he could make this work.

"Alright! Listen. Ghosts don't like iron. You still have the poker right?" A faint Yeah came though. "Good. Just swing it at her; she'll leave for a bit. When she does, look in the duffel bag for a big thing of salt. Make a circle and get inside with Marissa." He paused while Kurt snapped Salt? Are you fucking kidding me? She's killing Marissa now! Blaine sighed. When would Kurt ever stop questioning him? "Don't you trust me? The salt ring will protect you. I gotta go. I'll call you." He stood up as Kurt shrieked from him to stay and turned to Nick. "Take me to that shed. Now." Nick rushed to do what he said. Because the look in Blaine's eyes was terrifying.

Kurt was pissed. How dare Blaine just leave him like that? He had better have a plan, Kurt thought grimly, tightening his grip on the iron poker. Marissa was rapidly turning blue from the lack of air and as she clawed at the ghost, her fingers dripped blood. Kurt took a deep breath and swung the poker at the ghost's body. Mary screamed and vanished in a burst of red sparks. Kurt didn't halt his swing though, allowing the iron weapon to hit Marissa's stomach squarely. He didn't particularly feel bad when the idiot college girl bent over wheezing. Instead, he dropped to the duffel bag and rummaged through hurriedly.

"Where the fuck is the salt?" he ground out, mentally cursing Blaine for dragging him into this mess. Which wasn't fair, seeing as Kurt was the one that insisted on coming, but still. Imminent danger meant he could think whatever the fuck he wanted, logic be damned. Kurt felt his fingers close on the cylindrical salt container. Finally. He stood up, glancing around for any sight of Mary. Still gone.

Marissa was huddled on the floor crying. Kurt growled and hauled her to a standing position, pouring a ring of salt around their feet. "Do not step over the salt." Kurt said, glaring threateningly at Marissa, who just clutched his arm and nodded. Nothing to do but wait now. Kurt held the poker like a baseball bat. He hoped the ring would hold. He hoped he was brave enough to do this job. Most of all though, Kurt hoped Blaine knew what the hell he was doing because Kurt seriously doubted his ability to hold Mary off for long.

The lights flickered again.

In the car, Blaine glared at his passenger. "You better hope to God that Kurt survives. 'Cause if he dies for you two, you won't have to be afraid of Mary. You'll have to be afraid of me." he growled out.

Nick gulped. Blaine floored the accelerator, following Nick's nervous directions to the stretch of highway where Mary met her death. He drove one-handed, the other clutching his phone to his ear in a death grip.

"Just hold on a little longer," He said soothingly into the phone. Blaine really hoped Kurt couldn't hear the nervousness in his voice. Apparently not, though, since Kurt was too busy snapping at him.

"You hold on longer! She keeps glaring and making it windy and the salt keeps moving!" There was a startled scream and a growl of pain. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, Marissa! If you squeeze my arm like that I can't swing!" Blaine heard an angry voice yell back. They sounded like they were bonding well, Blaine thought ruefully.

Twenty minutes after leaving the campus, Nick told him to pull off the highway. The forest next to the road was fairly thick and ominous. The late sun shone through the spare leaves left on the grayed trees. Blaine paused to grab another container of rock salt (as a hunter, you can never have too much salt) and a can of gasoline. He ignored Nick's questioning glance when he shoved the materials into the college kid's hands.

"Blaine. Please tell me you have a plan." Kurt's voice wavered over the phone. Blaine felt something cold settle in his stomach.

"I do. It won't be much longer."

"Good, 'cause we're running out of salt to fix the circle."

Blaine swore as he followed Nick through the bare trees, tripping over roots and trash left by passing motorists. Hopefully this worked. He wasn't sure if he could live with himself if something happened to Kurt.

Finally, they reached a dilapidated shed. It sat in the middle of a clearing, probably forgotten for years until discovered by local college kids. Empty beer bottles and plastic cups were strewn across the ground. Blaine followed Nick to the weather-beaten shed door. Pushing it open, Blaine coughed as the stench assaulted his nose.

No matter how many times he smelled it, he would never get used to the reek of a decaying human body. Mary Solomon had not yet been fully reduced to bone, probably because the shed prevented large scavengers to feast and protected her from the elements. Even so, bits of blacked skeleton peeked through the rotten flesh, and fat flies lazily buzzed around the body. Blaine saw she was wearing the same white dress her ghost chose to. He dimly heard Nick puking outside. Heart full of sympathy, Blaine scattered salt across her body before drenching the remains in gasoline.

"Kurt?" He said sadly into the phone.

"Yeah?" He heard Kurt grunt from yet another swing.

"I need to know if this works immediately. Ok?

"Yes, yes, I'll tell you. Just hurry. We're fading here and I'm seriously starting to consider just giving Marissa to her cause this bitch is pissing me off." Angry shrieking was heard. "I don't see you lifting a finger to protect yourself, Miss Hussy!" Kurt snapped back.

Blaine sighed, silently pleading with Mary to forgive him. He pulled out an old lighter. As the flame flicked into existence, Nick stepped up next to him.

"I'm so sorry," Nick breathed.

The flames spread across Mary quickly. They flashed blue for an instant. Blaine thought he heard a distant cry, but it faded before he could be sure.

The salt ring had long since broken. Kurt currently had Marissa backed up into the wall and brandished the iron poker hell of lot more confidently than he felt. Honestly, his arms hurt. The poker was heavy (it was iron) and he'd spent the past ten minutes swinging it liberally. Mary seemed determined to claim Marissa, and was returning faster from every swing. Like she was building up a resistance or something. Also Marissa's continual shrieking in his ear was getting annoying.

Kurt really hoped Blaine would hurry up with his "plan."

He groaned when the lights began the tell-tale flickering that signaled Mary's return. Marissa's fingers dug into his shoulders again, and Kurt was fairly certain he'd have permanent bruises there when this was all over. Bitch. He readied the poker, dropping the phone to the floor so he could use both hands.

Mary stood in front of them. Her black eyes glared while her fingers clenched at her dirty white dress. She took a step forward, a low growl forming in her throat.

But before Kurt could swing the poker, Mary froze, eyes widened in shock. She lifted her head to the ceiling and let out the most hair-raising, tortured scream Kurt had ever heard. Flames engulfed the ghost in seconds. The burning figure flickered once, before collapsing in on itself and fading.

Kurt and Marissa just stared at the spot Mary had been only moments before. Neither moved. Dimly, Kurt heard Blaine calling for him from the phone on the floor. With shaking hands, Kurt bent over and picked up the phone. "Yeah?" he said in a strangled voice.

"Oh my god, never do that again. I thought you died!" Kurt could hear Blaine hyperventilating through the speaker.

"I'm fine. We're fine. Sorry." Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. "Mary's gone. Burned up. Blaine…is it over?"

"I think so. Salting and burning the remains usually works for ghosts." Kurt blinked at that because…what? But Blaine was still talking. "We'll be back in like 20 minutes. And Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Good job." Blaine's voice definitely had a smile.

"Thanks." Kurt hung up, a faint smile on his lips. It faded when he remembered Marissa. He fixed the girl with his scariest glare. "You sit your ass down. We have things to discuss." She let out a whimper as she did what he said. Perfect.

Somehow, Kurt was driving Blaine's precious Mustang. He only offered since Blaine always drove and looked tired, but was shocked when he shrugged and tossed Kurt the keys. This was…well, it was Blaine's baby. It was one thing to let Kurt fix the car up, but quite another to allow him the honor of actually touching the wheel. And the gas pedal.

It was like Kurt giving Blaine free reign over his clothes. Which was not happening in the near future.

But here he was, sitting in the driver's seat while Blaine relaxed next to him and sang along with Liam Gallagher.

"Her sooooooooooooooooul slides away, but don't look back in anger, I heard you say," Blaine's rich voice blended amazingly well with the radio. He grinned when he noticed Kurt looking at him out the corner of his eye.

Kurt snorted. "This is not classic rock," he told his passenger.

Blaine just laughed. "I have other tastes." He said in an affronted voice.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! Like…" Blaine thought for a moment. "Katy Perry."

Kurt just raised an eyebrow.

"Her stuff is catchy. Come on." Blaine said defensively.

Shaking his head, Kurt looked back at the road. They had left California behind about two hours ago and were currently driving through Nevada, which looked like a desert. Wes and David had seen them off. Kurt hoped he'd see them again. For all their sexual innuendos and not-so-subtle hints about Kurt and Blaine's relationship (or lack of one), it was nice to have friends that knew about his new life. He wasn't sure he could ever tell his New York friends about ghosts or demons. Or Blaine. Another tumbleweed blew by.

"You ok, Kurt?" Blaine asked. His voice was quiet, like he knew what Kurt was really thinking about. It was getting kind of creepy how well Blaine could read him. But comforting.

Life was weird.

"It's just Kurt paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "Mary had a real reason to hate Marissa and Nick and all them. And we stopped her. It just doesn't feel like we won."

Blaine nodded as if to himself. No doubt he had been here many times before. "This job is hard, Kurt. I warned you." He spoke over Kurt's angry protests. "No, look. It's not…it's not always about winning. Mary was hurting, and she lashed out in the only way she knew how. As much as she deserved her revenge, she deserved justice more."

"But what if Marissa and Nick don't turn themselves in? I won't let them get away with this." Kurt's eyes flashed. "I won't. It's not right."

"Nick will. He cared. At the end, he cared about what happened. He'll force Marissa to go to the police." Blaine sighed at Kurt's disbelieving glance. "If they don't, we'll come back." he said.

Kurt scoffed and tightened his hands on the wheel. "Good."

They drove in silence for a little while, the only sounds coming from the radio. It was on a commercial now.

It was Kurt that broke the quiet.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you do to her at the shed?" Kurt asked. If he was going to be a hunter, he needed to know these things.

Blaine watched Kurt drive for a few moments before answering. "I salted and burned her remains." He said matter-of-factly. He almost smiled at Kurt's sudden glance. Kurt hadn't really believed him earlier. "It kind of forces ghosts to move on. 'It's like death for ghosts,' my dad always said. I think he was quoting another hunter. It sounds harsh, I know, but…" Blaine hesitated. "I like to think they go to a better place. Somewhere where they can be at peace and not worry about revenge or pain or suffering. Just somewhere better." He trailed off, mumbling the last few words.

Next to him, Kurt smiled. "Blaine Anderson, you are a romantic."

"Ha. Guilty." He couldn't help feeling happy about the fact that Kurt hadn't laughed at his cheesy feelings. Kurt understood him.

Life is like a game of chance

Some find riches and some romance

Blaine turned up the radio. "Don't you dare insult Bad Company. You just can't." His mouth dropped open in shock when Kurt winked at him and joined in with the chorus. Kurt did so like the oldies! All those hours of complaining where total bullshit! And that voice? He totally had been holding out on him. The jerk.

Oh I will face the sun

Leavin' shadows for behind

And together we'll go on

Through time, oh yeah

"Just you know Blaine," Kurt broke off singing for a second. "I pick the next motel. And diner." Blaine didn't even mind.