Diana Corbett glanced in the mirror one last time. A pretty girl with long blonde hair and green eyes peered back innocently. She touched up her lipstick, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"You can do this," she told her reflection. "It's just one date. And you know Josh already likes you. He asked you out." She smoothed down her hair, willing it to look perfect. This was the first date she's had in, like, forever. And as a twenty-one year old college girl, that was just unacceptable. The doorbell rang.

Oh God, he was here. Diana looked at the mirror and smiled, trying to portray confidence. It kind of worked. She blew a kiss to her reflection. "Wish me luck!" she giggled, bouncing out the bathroom.

Her reflection didn't follow right away. It watched her leave with an expression of jealously.

The date was going so well, Diana couldn't believe it. He'd taken her to an expensive restaurant and even pulled out the chair for her. Josh was sweet, funny, and gorgeous, plus he seemed to really like her. At least, he hadn't laughed when she let slip over dinner that she had a guilty pleasure for watching Pretty Little Liars, just agreed and excitedly began outlining why he thought Jason killed Allison.

He and his beautiful brown hair and amazing dark eyes were perfect.

Diana was pretty certain she was in love by the time the food came. She excused herself to the bathroom just before dessert to collect herself. She didn't want to look like an idiot, right?

The bathroom was huge and empty. Over the gold-rimmed sinks (it was a really expensive restaurant), a mirror took up the entire wall. Diana flounced over, grinning at herself.

"This could work." She pushed back a stray hair. "I think he's the one!" Then, deciding she really needed to use the toilet before going back out to face her dream man, she turned on her heel and went into one of the stalls.

Diana's reflection watched the door close calmly. It took a quick look around to check that the room was still deserted, then smiled satisfactorily. With perfect, tanned hands, it gripped the top of the counter and hoisted itself up, sitting of the counter. Carefully, making sure the silver dress did not get snagged on the faucets, it climbed through the mirror and into the bathroom. It patted its hair back and smoothed the dressed. "My turn," it said in Diana's voice. It took one last look at Diana's stall, where she was happily humming, unaware of her reflection's escapades.

The reflection smirked and walked out of the room and back into Josh's warm arms.

Life sucked. Diana sighed, shoving her key into her apartment's keyhole roughly, fighting back the tears that had been threatening ever since she walked out of the bathroom at the restaurant and finding their table empty. It wasn't fair. Josh had seemed like such a nice guy, you know? But he left her stranded alone with no car. She had to asked the ma�tre d' to call a cab for her while she stood outside, burning with shame.

What an asshole. Stringing her along like that and then dumping her. Weirdly enough, though, he'd paid the bill, so there was that. Sighing at the eccentricities of men, she fumbled with the lock, but the door finally fell open.

A weird smell greeted her. It was kind of coppery and was really familiar. "Hello?" she called out into the darkened hallway. Faint whimpers came from her living room. The hell? She closed her door, threw the keys on the little table in the hallway and flicked the light switch.

There was a blood smear on her wooden floor that led around the corner to the room where someone was crying. She gaped at the bright red and shiny stain. Diana was confused, shocked, and a little frightened at this point. There was a crash from the living room and the voice cried out in pain, but it sounded muffled. In any case, the distraction spurred her to action and she ran up the hallway, avoiding the blood. She didn't consciously notice that the mirror above the hallway table did not reflect her.

"Oh my God!" Diana stopped in shock, hands pressed tight against her mouth and eyes wide.

Josh, poor, sweet, innocent Josh, was tied and gagged on the floor between the coffee table and the TV. He had shallow cuts all over his body and blood had soaked through his expensive suit. At the sight of her, Josh screamed against his gag and shied away, tears leaking from his pain-filled eyes. Diana dropped to his head, untying the strip of cloth wrapped around his mouth.

"Josh, what—who did this to you?" Diana felt like crying at the fear in his eyes. He backed away from her touch, scooting as best he with his arms and legs tied.

"Please let me go," he whispered, spitting out blood. "Please. I swear I won't tell, just let me go, I'm sorry for whatever I did!" Josh cringed when she tried to come nearer.

What the hell? Diana was having trouble processing. Her date had left her at the restaurant, came to her apartment and been beaten to within an inch of his life. Oh, and he thought she had been the one slicing him.

She wondered if that margarita she had earlier was stronger than she thought.

"Just—just wait here, I'm going to call for some help," Diana stammered out, staggering to her feet. Her hands and dress were bloodsoaked. In the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her dress and picked up the phone. Before she could dial, though, Josh screamed from the other room. It was a short scream and quickly cut off into gurgles. Diana thought she was going to throw up.

Sobbing with fear and confusion, Diana forced her fingers to dial 911. After a few tries, the line began ringing. "Come on, pick up," she whispered. She tried to peer around the doorway to see if Josh was alright.

The silence worried her. With the line still ringing in her ears, Diana crept out of the kitchen, but not before grabbing a knife from her knife rack. She faintly noticed her largest one was missing. After a deep breath, Diana turned the corner and stood face to face with the attacker.

She looked into her own eyes.

This is impossible, she thought before everything went black.

-I-40, just past Knoxville, Tennessee, present-

The Mustang was Kurt's favorite car ever. It was gorgeous, ran smoothly after almost half a century on the road, and the sound system was amazing.

The Mustang was also Blaine's, but who cared?

Boys and things that come by the dozen,

They ain't nothin' but drugstore lovin'

Hey little thing, let me light your candle 'cause

Mama, I'm so hard to handle now, gets around

"I think this song describes you well," Blaine interrupted Kurt's singing. In reply Kurt punched Blaine's shoulder.

"Jealousy is not a good look for anyone." Kurt grinned. It felt amazing to be free of New Jersey. That whole case was just weird. "Why do we have go to Bellevue anyway? What'd your dad say?"

Blaine pulled out the piece of paper with the names his dad gave them. "I really don't know. In the past couple months, there have been a few domestic disturbances where one partner killed the other and he wants us to look into it. But there's no pattern or anything. Just seems like people being people." Blaine leaned back on the seat and closed his eyes. "Also, your 'two hundred miles' was up four hundred miles ago. My turn." Kurt snorted, but didn't protest when Blaine fiddled with the radio dial. Soon, Collective Soul's Shine filled the car. Blaine absently began miming the chords, looking out the window at the passing cars.

It was just weird how Blaine jumped to his father's every demand even though Kurt got the feeling he hated the man. "You know," Kurt said gently, not wanting to upset Blaine. "We don't have to go to Oklahoma. We can leave this case alone. If there's even a case at all." But Blaine was shaking his head.

"No. My dad's an asshole, but he wouldn't send us on a wild goose chase. If he says we have to go somewhere, we should." Blaine looked Kurt up and down. "Actually, I'm not even sure if he knows about you." He mused. "Dad hung up before I could ask."

How to distract Blaine… "What are the names he gave you again?" Kurt asked.

"Diana Corbett, Bobby Reynolds, Ryan Smith. They all killed their significant others. All were found at the scene of the crime, but none have confessed. The victims were two men and a woman. They don't know each other, though they were around the same age." Blaine recited the information dully.

Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who was staring out the window again. He was trying to hide it, but Kurt knew Blaine was upset about his father. On impulse, he took the next exit, hoping that some real food might cheer him up. Blaine loved food.

An hour later found them in yet another nameless motel room.

"SHIT, Kurt, watch it!"

"If you held still, it wouldn't hurt so bad!" Kurt snapped, stabbing Blaine's shoulder with the needle and pulling the thread through.

The deep gash ran about six inches from Blaine's left shoulder diagonally to the middle of his chest. Blaine clutched his bloodied shirt in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He took a large gulp of the latter when Kurt pushed the needle into his flesh again.

"I don't why I'm doing this anyway," Kurt muttered. "I don't know what I'm doing. What if I sew this up wrong? Maybe we didn't disinfect everything properly, I could be sewing up your shoulder and you could get an infection and lose your arm and it'll be all my fault…" Kurt kept rambling and honestly, really? Blaine was the one with the huge cut and being stitched together and Kurt was the one freaking out. "Oh my god, what if you scar?" Kurt looked truly horrified at that thought.

Blaine let out a short bark of laughter. "Kurt, I can honestly tell you that I'd rather scar than bleed to death." Kurt wasn't convinced. "Look, don't worry. You're doing fine. Your stitches are a hell of a lot neater than mine, that's for sure…" Blaine twisted his head to look at Kurt's handiwork. He slipped his hand into Kurt's free one. "Just relax. It's almost over."

Kurt nodded frantically and finished the last few stitches, tying it off like he would an ordinary sewing job. "You are so lucky I majored in fashion and have been able to sew since sixth grade." He taped a thick pad of gauze over the stitches. "And don't pull those out." He warned, collecting the bloody rags and tossing them into the trash. He washed his hands in the bathroom as Blaine collapsed back on the bed. "I can't believe you didn't kill yourself." He called from the bathroom with a disapproving voice. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Walking out of the bathroom, Kurt found Blaine with a pillow over his face. He rolled his eyes and yanked the pillow away. "And what have we learned, Mr. Anderson?" He asked sweetly. Blaine sulked in reply.

"Not to try and show off my knife tossing skills." He mumbled. Blaine grabbed the pillow back and hid his face. He'd only wanted to show how he could throw a knife up, have it spin around three times, and land perfectly in his hand. And he could. He just…missed this time. And basically stabbed himself in front of Kurt and the waiter. It wasn't his best moment. And how was he to know that the place had really sharp knives anyway?

"Good boy." Kurt patted Blaine's arm. "Alright, here are our choices: we can spend the night and get to Oklahoma tomorrow or leave now and you can sleep in the car. Either way, you're not allowed to drive."

Blaine sat up quickly, wincing when the stitches pulled. "No, I wanna drive this time!"

Kurt looked at him skeptically. "Can you even raise your arm above your head?"

He tried. "Not really."

"So I'm driving." Kurt threw a bottle of pills at Blaine. "Pain meds. Don't take them yet though, wait for the booze to wear off."

Ordinarily, Blaine would have said something about Kurt being so bossy. However, Blaine knew Kurt was just worried and trying to hide how freaked out he'd been earlier when the knife slipped. Blaine didn't think anyone could possibly get that white and not pass out. So he just pocketed the bottle and thought about it. "We might as well just there tonight." Blaine sighed. His shoulder was starting to ache again. "You can drive."

Kurt looked relieved Blaine wasn't going to fight him. "Perfect. You can wait in the car while I check us out. Oh god." Blaine saw Kurt's sudden change of expression and laughed. The clerk would have a field day. Two men renting a room for together a few hours and then leaving? And Kurt was fairly well dressed. If that didn't scream 'prostitute'…

"We all make sacrifices." Blaine said solemnly, dodging Kurt's pillow. "Hey! I'm injured!"

"Not on this side," Kurt punched his healthy shoulder.

The Bellevue County Police Department had a relatively large jail for the size of the town. And it was clean and didn't smell like urine or smoke like Kurt assumed it would. Kurt was actually still in shock Blaine let him go to this interview alone. Well, Kurt called it an interview. Blaine called it "interrogating the subject to find out if anything supernatural was going on." But anyway. Kurt convinced Blaine that splitting up meant they'd finish the job sooner and that meant eating sooner. Honestly, the way the boy downed food, Kurt was surprised Blaine wasn't three hundred pounds by now.

Inside, the officers manning the jail looked at his FBI badge suspiciously, but Kurt was pretty sure that was because it said "Bob Seger" and Blaine was definitely getting a stern talking to later.

Stupid Blaine. Scaring the shit out of him with that knife trick. Kurt's heart had absolutely stopped when the accident happened and all the blood…

No. He wasn't going to think about that. Blaine was fine. He was checking out the victims and the crime scenes for clues while Kurt interviewed the killers.

The interview room Kurt currently waited in was small, with two chairs, a table, and a one-way window. He fixed his hair in the reflection while he waited for a Miss Diana Corbett to be brought in. She'd been the latest attacker in the murders. The police file Blaine stole off the law enforcement database said that she'd gone on a date four days ago with a Mr. Joshua Blandon, took him back to her apartment, then cut him into pieces on her living room floor. They found her after a 911 call was placed from the house and three officers arrived to her screaming about her reflection. She was currently waiting for the judge to determine whether or not she would stay in the jail or be moved to the mental institution just outside of town.

This would be a fun interview.

The door unlocked and a small blonde woman in an orange jumpsuit was let in by a police officer. Her hair was lifeless and straggly and her eyes darted around the room wildly, finally catching sight of her reflection in the window and freezing.

"Have fun," the other officer shoved Diana to the chair, handcuffed her, and left the room, door locking on the way out.

Kurt studied the girl in front of him. She was like a caged animal, shuddering and jerking in her chair, but she resolutely watched herself in the window-mirror. He wondered if she'd slept since the attack.

"Ms. Corbett, my name is Agent…er…Seger." Kurt cleared his throat. "Um, how are you?" Crap. Maybe Blaine was right, Kurt wasn't ready to do interviews on his own. Diana seemed unfazed though.

"Charmed." She bit out tightly, still not looking at him.

Well, this was going well. "So…why don't you tell me what happened that night?" Oh God, he sounded like one of those detectives in every cop movie ever.

Diana tore her gaze from her reflection and looked Kurt up and down. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms defiantly. "Why should I tell you? You have the transcripts from the other times." Kurt actually didn't, but she didn't need to know that. "And anyway, you won't believe me. No one does." She said the last sentence softly, eyes downcast.

"You'd be surprised." Kurt said dryly, thinking about his life for the past month and a half. "I want to hear your story. Everything. I promise I will listen."

She seemed to be searching for doubt in his face, but finding none, Diana sighed. With a quick glance at her reflection again, she leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped. "You swear you won't think I'm crazy?" She looked at Kurt intensely.

"I swear." Honestly, nothing she said could be weirder than killing the Jersey Devil only a few days ago.

Nodding to herself, Diana took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ok. I can do this," she muttered. Kurt waited as patiently as he could.

"Well, we were at the restaurant. And I went to the bathroom, right? But when I came back, Josh was gone. So I had to wait and get a cab to get back home to my place. And I went upstairs and opened the door and it smelled like, really weird you know? But anyway—"

"Was your door unlocked?" Kurt interrupted.

Diana shook her head, almost in tears. "I don't know! I was really upset, being abandoned and all, and I did have trouble opening my door so I could have accidently locked it first and then unlocked it—it could have been unlocked when I got there, I just don't know."

It was worth thinking about. "Alright, just wondering. Keep going."

She did.

"Your double killed your date."

Diana nodded frantically. "Yeah!" She eyed the mirror apprehensively and leaned in. "Right before I found Josh, I saw something weird."

Kurt resisted the urge to be snarky and ask if she meant something weirder than what she'd already told him.

"I didn't have a reflection." She whispered.

That was unexpected. "Excuse me?"

"I've been replaying that night in my head every since I was arrested. And I'm so sure that when I walked down my hallway and passed the mirror, I wasn't there. And that's not all." Oh God, Kurt could feel a headache coming on. Demons and ghosts and creatures were one thing but murderous reflections? "For days before that night, I kept feeling like my reflection was watching me."

He tried to keep a straight face. He did. "Well generally, when you look in a mirror, you know, your reflection kind of looks back…"

"Not like that!" Diana waved her hand impatiently. "No, like, I'd look away, but my reflection would still be watching me. All the time. It was creepy. I just thought it was me being stressed and imagining things but now…"

Yeah, but now. Kurt really hoped Blaine knew what this was, because he was getting some seriously unsettling vibes from this case.

"Do you believe me?" Diana grabbed his hands with her handcuffed ones. "I didn't kill Josh. I swear I didn't." Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Yeah." Kurt squeezed her hands. "I believe you." He felt guilty at her immediate relief. Even if he believed her (and he did), it wouldn't clear her. How the hell were he and Blaine going to keep her from going to jail for murder? She was quite literally found with blood on her hands.

Maybe Blaine had an idea, Kurt thought as he comforted Diana.

When Kurt finally got back to home base (Homeless Brett's Motel and seriously, motel namers? Seriously?), he found Blaine staring at himself in the mirror next to the TV.

"You ok?"

Blaine jumped at Kurt's question. "What? Oh. Yeah." Blaine glanced back at the mirror guiltily before plastering a grin and noticing Kurt's gifts. "Yes, burgers!" He eagerly grabbed a bag and dug one out. "You're the best, Kurt!" he said happily, taking a huge bite of a cheeseburger with ketchup and mayonnaise.

"Welcome." Kurt said absently, dropping his phone on his bed and pulling out a salad. She narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "Why're you looking at yourself in the mirror?" he asked.

"Thought I missed a spot shaving." Blaine lied quickly. Kurt didn't need to know Blaine thought his reflection had moved by itself. He got enough weird looks as it was.

Thankfully, Kurt didn't push it. Though he watched Blaine carefully.

"Well, anyway," Kurt took a bite of lettuce and swallowed. "Listen to this. Diana thinks her reflection killed her date." Blaine choked on his burger.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely after Kurt pounded his back to free the chunk of meat.

"Uh huh." Kurt was definitely suspicious now. "That wouldn't sound familiar to you, Blaine, now would it?"

Blaine wiped his mouth to buy time. Also it did sound familiar. He was pretty sure his father mentioned something about 'evil doubles' at one point. He shrugged, but didn't say anything.

Kurt just narrowed his eyes and took a long drink of his Diet Coke. "So. She was saying how she thought her mirrors were acting strange a few days before the attack. Like, not showing her at times, moving when she turned away and stuff."

"'Ounds kazee," Blaine said through a mouthful of meat, bread and cheese. He swallowed at Kurt's revolted look. "Sorry. I said, 'sounds crazy.'"

"Blaine, we hunt ghosts daily." Kurt stated flatly.

Blaine snorted. "True." He smiled.

"What was in the apartment?" Kurt changed the subject.

The apartment. Well once he'd got the super to let him in, it was a normal college student's place, tastefully decorated and a decent size. One bedroom, one bath, a living room, and a kitchen.

Only, this one had a giant pool of blood in front of the TV from the murder of a man.

"Like a normal apartment," Blaine finished the burger, crumpling the paper and tossing it at the trash can. He made a face when he missed. "It was completely clean. Well, clean-ish. No EMF readings, no sulfur, no ectoplasm, nothing supernatural. Wait, you said she thought her reflection was moving?"

Kurt hesitated. "Ok, look, I know you said not to talk to the rest of the suspects on the list Blaine groaned.—But, I did anyway. I'm sorry!"

"Jesus, Kurt, I try to keep you safe, and you just go off and do whatever the fuck you want, is that right?" He hadn't wanted to let Kurt go alone in the first place, but the man had begged and begged and Blaine had a really hard time saying 'no' to those blue eyes. But Kurt had sworn to only talk to the latest attacker and leave the others for Blaine. And evidently lied.

Blaine cringed when Kurt stood up angrily. "As I keep telling you, Blaine," Kurt spat out. "I am not a china doll! I can hold my own and I'm stronger than you think! You need to understand that you don't have any right to control me."

"No, you need to understand that when I tell you to do or to do not something, you listen!" Blaine yelled right back. "You have been a hunter for five weeks, Kurt. Five weeks! That's it!" Kurt's jaw was tightened but he let Blaine continue. "I have been doing this for fifteen fucking years, and I have seen what happens to rookies when they rush into situations half-cocked!"

Kurt had the grace to flush.

"It was reckless to go in there by yourself and interview potential murderers before knowing the whole situation."

"It was a police station, Blaine. They were handcuffed to the table, and the table was bolted down. I was perfectly safe." Kurt held his head proudly and looked Blaine straight in the eye. Holy hell, Blaine could not believe the streak of stubbornness in his best friend.

"It was not." Blaine retorted. "What if it had been a ghost? What if it was some kind of weird virus that selectively infects potential victims? Look at me, Kurt!" Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm where the boy was trying to turn away. "I mean it! Things like that happen, and you wouldn't know how to handle that kind of situation." Not that Blaine always would, but the point still stood.

Kurt ripped his arm out of Blaine grip and shot him a look of pure fury. "I know you've got some kind of 'hero complex,' but I will not leave or hide away in motel rooms or libraries like a princess while you go out and face danger. I did what I thought I should based on the information I got from Diana, and I'd like it if you'd trust me every now and then." All of this was delivered in a very calm and icy tone, and Blaine half wished Kurt was yelling instead. "I'm not a fucking idiot and I'm not fragile. Fuck you for thinking I need protection."

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. He was suddenly getting the feeling that he'd really screwed this up.

Kurt grabbed his coat and stalked to the door. Just before he walked out, Kurt turned back. "When I talked to Bobby Reynolds and Ryan Smith, both of them had been seeing things in the mirrors too. There's something in the mirrors." Kurt turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

Dropping his head in his hands, Blaine swore. "Fuck." He muttered.

Cole Baldwin felt like he was going insane.

"I think I'm going insane." He told his friend, Rebacca Morgan, who was sitting on his couch and lazily drinking a beer. He kept glancing over her shoulder into the mirror next to the doorway into the kitchen. The urge to cover every reflective surface in his house was crazy, absolutely mad, but by god he wanted to do it.

It all started three days ago. He'd been shaving, carefully watching himself in the mirror so he didn't cut himself, and his reflection…winked at him. Actually winked. He'd thought he was seeing things, so he just washed off the shaving cream and went on with his day.

But then it happened again. And again. Always little things. Cole's reflection would sneeze when he coughed, yawned when he talked, and generally did not behave like a reflection. Cole was getting scared. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen outside of The X-Files.

Rebecca didn't believe him. Cole could tell. She listened patiently to his story, but kept sighing at all the wrong parts. She came over, though, which is more than he could say for his ex. She stood up and got out a bottle of wine from his fridge and two glasses. "I think," the pretty brunette said, pouring a glass for each of them. "You should drink this and take a shower. Relax, you know? Then come out, and we'll order Chinese and watch cheesy movies all night."

Honestly, that all sounded pretty nice. And maybe they'd drink a little more and she'd let him hold her and then…he shook his head. One step at a time, Cole… "Alright. Let's do that. It's gotta be the stress or something." He gulped down the wine ungracefully. "I couldn't have seen what I did, right?"

"Right." Rebecca smiled. "Go, you big baby." She pushed him off the couch with her feet, giggling.

"I'll be right back!" He grinned, backing into the bedroom and nearly tripping over himself. He could hear Rebecca laughing at him and then the TV turning on. Cole shook his head, walking past the bed to the bathroom. It was a lot harder to believe in sentient reflections when his semi-girlfriend was in the next room.

The bathroom was white and small: a toilet, a sink, a mirror, and the best part: a two-person shower. He'd splurged for the last when he bought the apartment. Before stepping into the shower, though, he checked the mirror. A muscular, light-brown haired man with blue eyes and of average light looked back. Nothing unusual. He closed the shower door and hit the faucet.

Rebecca was flipping through the channels. She couldn't find anything, and finally tossed the remote on the other end of the couch, leaving the channel on a rerun of Law and Order: SVU. She watched the large scary man yell at a criminal and sipped the wine. Cole was being strange tonight. She thought about his story. His impossible story. Obviously, reflections didn't move and she was crazy even half believing him.

No, she didn't believe him. He must be trying to scare her so she would cuddle with him. Because cuddling might lead to certain other things…and those other things she might not be opposed to…

She jumped when a hand came down on her shoulder. "God, Cole!" Rebecca smacked her on-again-off-again boyfriend's arm with her free hand as he sat down on the couch. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry," his voice was low and he was staring at her intensely. Cole wasn't wearing a shirt, only sweatpants. And judging by how low those sweatpants were, he probably wasn't wearing underwear either. And oh God that should not be as hot as it was. Cole inched up to her and Rebecca put the wine on the floor so she could thread her fingers through his hair.

"That was a really fast shower," she managed before he was kissing her deeply and harder than he'd ever done before. She moaned into it, pulling him on top of her.

But a voice inside her head was whispering that something was wrong. Cole never, ever kissed like this. Even when they were dating. He was too nervous to take the initiative.

When she could breathe again, Rebecca gently pushed him back. He leaned back on his legs, but kept straddling her. "What's going on?" She asked, concern lacing her voice.

"Nothing." Cole leaned into her, obviously trying for her mouth again but she held him back.

"No, I mean it, what's wrong? This isn't like you."

Cole's expression darkened and Rebecca began to feel nervous. Cole had never been violent with her. Or anything else, actually. The buy cried when he had to kill spiders. His hands moved to her shoulders. He was leaning in for another kiss when Rebecca realized what she was hearing.

From the sound of the bedroom, she could hear the shower running. Horrified, she turned her eyes to the man on top of her. He looked like Cole. He was Cole. And yet…he wasn't. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped a hand over her mouth hard enough for her lips to bleed from her teeth.

"I just want to be loved," not-Cole told her sadly. Rebecca felt tears pooling in her eyes. She struggled, but its strength kept her pinned to the couch. She whimpered when he pulled out a huge knife, probably from the kitchen. "You've failed me too," he whispered into her ear.

Rebecca screamed beneath his hand.

Fifteen minutes later and a hell of a lot cleaner and calmer, Cole stepped out of the water. "Hey, Becca!" he called, toweling off. She didn't answer though. Must have fallen asleep. Cole shrugged and pulled on boxers and sweatpants. He thought about a t-shirt, but decided against it. "Becca?" Cole walked out the bathroom . The living room felt…different. For some reason, goosebumps erupted on his arms and he shivered involuntarily. Rebecca still hadn't answered. He cautiously walked around the couch. And then almost threw up.

Rebecca had been mutilated. Cuts. Just…all over her body. Her beautiful, kind, teasing brown eyes stared emptily through him and oh wow, that wine was threatening to come back up. He shakily stepped backwards, breathing harshly.

Did people really have that much blood in them? The couch was soaked. Cole watched a drop of blood dripped off the tip of her finger and fall into the growing pool on the floor. Something tapped his shoulder, and Cole whipped around, hands flying up to protect his face.

Holy. Fuck.

He was staring at himself. The other Cole was naked and bloody, but it was definitely himself. "What the…" he breathed, head reeling.

The bloodied man grinned evilly down at Cole. Faintly, sirens screamed outside. Cole's hands were grabbed roughly, getting smeared with blood.

"Sorry about this, but I can't get caught. Not now. You understand right?" the other Cole said sympathetically, patting Cole's arm. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

Cole had no idea what it was talking about, just stood rooted to the spot. Footsteps were banging outside his door. A knife was pressed into his hand and in his daze, Cole closed his hands around the hilt. The bloodied Cole walked over the living room's mirror. With a quick wave, it climbed into the mirror. It. Climbed. Into. The. Mirror.

Cole felt his mind breaking in that moment.

When the police burst into his apartment a few minutes later, they found Cole in the same spot, covered in blood and clutching a huge knife.

Kurt came back to the room after three in the morning. He'd planned it specifically to avoid talking to Blaine, which royally failed because Blaine was still awake. He was sitting at the room's small table, reading three books at once and wearing glasses and sweatpants. And looking really adorable. Asshole. Kurt decided the silent treatment would be appropriate. Without looking at the hunter, Kurt took off his jacket, grabbed a t-shirt, boxers, and his toothbrush from his duffel bag and stalked into the bathroom. Then slammed the door because Kurt Hummel was nothing if not dramatic.

He thought he heard Blaine sigh through the closed door, but fuck that. Kurt was pissed and Blaine was sure as fuck going to know about it. His whole life, Kurt had been compared to a girl. People just tossed adjectives around him, always ignoring him. 'Fairy,'princess,'girl,' Kurt was sick of it. He was done with always being seen as the damsel in distress or the weakling that needed protection. If Blaine Anderson couldn't see that, well…

Kurt would deal with that when he had to.

When Kurt finally came out of the bathroom, he kept up his game of ignoring Blaine, walking past him and stuffing his things into a bag. Maybe Blaine'd get the hint and fuck off for the night. But this was Blaine.

"Kurt?" Kurt heard the uncertainty in Blaine's voice and hated himself for losing a little bit of his anger. That just wasn't fair. He stood up, faced Blaine, and crossed his arms.

Blaine had stood up and now looked guilty. And uncomfortable. Kurt felt his irritation slipping away. He tried not to let it show on his face. Blaine licked his lips before speaking.

"Y-you have a point. I can't keep treating you like a fragile piece of glass." He swallowed at Kurt's slight nod. "I know you're going to have to go out there alone. One day." Blaine was obviously choosing his words carefully and stumbled a little on the delivery. "But. I really think it's not unfair of me to at least be there."

Because Kurt was not an idiot, he fully understood that Blaine was right before. It had been incredibly reckless to talk to the other murder suspects alone on his first foray into interrogation alone. And he knew Blaine was being reasonable when he asked Kurt to let him help learn how to do things because most of hunting was still new to him. But the fucking point still stood.

"You can't protect me forever." Kurt said, watching Blaine's miserable expression carefully. "It's not fair to me. Or you."

Blaine was desperate, Kurt suddenly realized. Desperate and scared. Not just about Kurt disobeying him, but something else.

"Dammit, Kurt. I know. I know how you feel, but you don't understand how dangerous this job is, even in normal times." Blaine paled, realizing what he just said.

Well, there was a hint.'Normal times? Kurt repeated. Blaine clamped his mouth shut and sat back down on the chair. Oh hell, no. Kurt was not going to let him off that easy. "Talk to me, Blaine. What do you mean by 'normal times'? Is now not normal or something? Does this have something to do with what Mr. Schue said at the Roadhouse?"

A muscle twitched in Blaine's jaw, but he remained silent. Kurt's anger came boiling back.

"Blaine! We're supposed to be partners! How the hell can you ask me to trust you with everything when you won't trust me with anything?" Kurt seethed. He was about to launch in a tirade when Blaine fixed him with those sad, tortured eyes and Kurt's words died in his throat.

"Please, please believe me when I say I will tell you. Soon. Just…just not now." Blaine rubbed his face with his hand tiredly. "I don't wanna fight anymore. C-can we just agree to compromise? I'll try to let you do some things on your own, but when I ask you to do something I feel is really important, you'll do it with minimal protest? Please?" Blaine's expression was so exhausted and sad that Kurt found himself nodding.

Closing the books on the tables, Blaine stood up. "We'll pick this up in the morning." he muttered, stepping past Kurt to the bed. Kurt groaned to himself. Nothing had really been fixed.

But Blaine was already under the covers and facing away from him. Wonderful.

Kurt shuffled back to the bed, noticing his phone on top of the covers. He'd wondered where he'd left it, but he'd been too angry earlier to really think about it. He picked it up, noticing the flashing light at the top at indicated unread texts. Turning off the bedside light, Kurt slipped under the blankets and, taking a page out of Blaine's book, turned away from the other bed. He unlocked his phone to read the texts.

Wow. There were more than twenty messages, every single one from Blaine and increasing in panic and worry. The first few were apologies and requests to come back so they could talk about it, but when Kurt hadn't answered, Blaine kept asking where he was and if he was alright and 'dammit Kurt, answer, I'm freaking out and would like to know that you aren't dead please call me.' He'd apparently finally called and realized that the phone was still in the room. The last text message, though, hit Kurt in the gut.

"I'm sorry that I'm so overprotective. I can't say this out loud, so a text will have to do. Everyone's left me too, Kurt, and I just don't want anything awful to happen to you. If I know you at all, you're still angry, and I don't blame you. But you could have died in the police station or right now, and I don't want that to happen. You're my best friend Kurt, and I just want you to be safe. Just please try to understand why I'm the way I am."

Kurt turned his phone off and laid in bed for a while, thinking.

He refused to be smothered by Blaine and kept away from the action. But he could let Blaine teach him. And listen to him more often. Without really knowing why, Kurt flung off his covers and stood over Blaine's bed. Plucking up courage from somewhere really deep down, Kurt shook Blaine awake and, ignoring his sleepy protests, told Blaine to scoot over. He slid underneath the covers, bumping legs with Blaine until they could shift around and make room.

With as much dignity as he could muster being in someone else's bed and personal space, Kurt spoke quietly. "I understand what you mean. We can compromise." Kurt whispered. It was too dark to see Blaine's reaction, but he didn't protest when Kurt held him. They fell asleep together for the second time, and Kurt tried to ignore how much he liked it.

When Kurt woke up, Blaine was walking in loaded with coffee and doughnuts. The difference between now and last night was amazing. Blaine was smiling and bouncing around, dragging Kurt out of bed with so much enthusiasm, Kurt couldn't bring himself to yell at Blaine for messing up his hair or not letting him change.

They ate breakfast together silently, but it was comfortable. They would have to talk about last night eventually, but for now, they'd leave it alone. At some point Blaine put on the TV, tuned to a news channel.

"Last night, in yet another case of domestic violence turned fatal, Rebecca Morgan was killed by her part-time boyfriend, Cole Baldwin."

Kurt's head jerked up as the female newscaster rambled on about Baldwin being found with the knife after an anonymous tip to the police, who had arrived just before Rebecca was murdered. A picture of both the victim and the murderer flashed up on the screen, probably from a party somewhere. They looked so happy. The screen changed to Baldwin being led out of the apartment complex, looked dazed and shocked.

"It's not going to stop." Blaine finally said. "I was trying to figure out what it was last night, but nothing fits. Not really." He turned off the TV, taking another gulp of his coffee. "I'm going to call my friend Sam Evans. He's like an encyclopedia about supernatural stuff. Maybe he's heard of this happening before. In the meantime," Blaine tossed a thick book at Kurt, who scowled. "I didn't look in this yet. Have at it." He took out his phone and dialed Sam, putting it on speaker so Kurt could listen.

"Greetings, young Padawan."

Blaine rolled his eyes while Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Sam, quit the Yoda act. I got company."

"Hey," Kurt said, looking back at the book.

"Wait, Blaine's finally getting some?" Sam switched back to his regular voice.

"Oh god," Blaine dropped his head into his hands and prayed Kurt wasn't angry.

"Nope, just friends," Kurt didn't even look up. "I'm Kurt. Nice to meet you."

"Cool. I'm Sam! Hey!"

"Sam, focus. I got a question for you." Blaine waited to see if Sam would make a movie reference.

"'So you have questions. Sam quoted as Antonio Banderas. Bingo.

"Really? Interveiw With A Vampire? Really Sam?"

"I thought it was a good impression." Kurt shrugged.

Blaine could feel Sam beam. "I like him! Keep him, Blaine!"

"It's a little unnerving how many of my friends like you more than me," commented Blaine. Kurt just smiled innocently. "Anyway. Sam, we're in Bellavue, Oklahoma. There've been a few murders and the last attacker had a strange story. What do you know about, um," Blaine looked at Kurt. "I don't know the whole story, actually."

Kurt took over easily. "The girl being accused swears up and down that it was her reflection that killed her date, not her. She said a few days before the attack, she'd been feeling watched and she thought her reflection wasn't following her. And on the night of the murder, while the boy was being killed, she didn't have a reflection at all. The two previous accused have the same story."

There was silence on the other end. Kurt glanced at Blaine, who didn't seem all that worried. Soon, there was the sound of shuffling books and flipping pages and mutterings.

"Aha!" Sam cried out triumphantly. "It sounds like maybe a doppelganger." Blaine opened his laptop and opened a new search. He motioned for Kurt to get a paper and pencil. "You guys ready?"

Kurt dug a pen out of Blaine's bag. "Yeah."

Sam cleared his throat and began talking as James Earl Jones. "'Doppelgangers are creatures that exist in mirrors…When they enter the physical world, they are vulnerable to silver, though can only exist here for so long. They have no true form, simply existing as reflections of the real world. Doppelgangers can travel through mirrors… Sam continued in his regular voice. "That's all they have. Doppelgangers are incredibly rare; no one's seen them for a few decades...maybe centuries. Usually it's shapeshifters in crimes like these."

Pausing his pen, Kurt looked up. "Shapeshifters?"

Blaine ignored him. "So, silver?"

"Yeah. Let me know what happens if you don't die!"

"Comforting, Sam." Blaine snorted.

" be careful, Blaine. May the Force be with you!"

"And also with you." Blaine blushed, hanging up the phone and not looking at Kurt.

Kurt smirked. "I want to meet him one day."

That would be an interesting situation. Blaine shrugged and yawned, stretching. He winced when the action pulled on his stitches. Kurt noticed, and made Blaine take off his shirt so the bandage could be changed.

It was kind of nice to be taken care of every once in a while.

Blaine sat outside the police station, bored as hell and waiting for Kurt to come back. Since Kurt already had a cover story in place, they figured it would be easier if he went in by himself to talk to the newest killer while Blaine hung around the parking lot. Blaine fiddled with his silver knife, sitting on top of his car's hood. Kurt had a twin blade hidden in his boot because Blaine insisted.

Kurt will be fine. Blaine repeated to himself. After last night and spending hours terrified that Kurt was dead in some alley because Blaine upset him too much to remember his phone, Blaine promised himself he'd never push Kurt away like that again. He stared at the ground, ignoring the passersby. Christ, but Kurt was one of the most self-centered and stubborn bitches he'd ever met.

But also the bravest and kindest. It was a frustrating combination.

He knew he'd have to tell Kurt about how supernatural creatures were…mobilizing, might be the word. For some reason, Blaine suspected his father knew already and that this doppelganger might be a part of it. It was like he had half of the puzzle pieces and was missing the box. Who knew what the big picture was. But it scared Blaine.

"Damn it, fuck!"

Blaine looked up to see a young woman with long red hair and huge heels glaring at a pile of folders and papers on the ground. They must have fallen moments before. She shifted the huge bag on her shoulder and attempted to bend down, but the tight pantsuit skirt was severely limiting that course of action. She let loose a flow of curses that brought a faint tinge of pink to Blaine's ears. And hunters were notorious for their mouths.

No one else was stopping to help her and Kurt was still inside, so Blaine stood up. "Need some help?" He shifted on his feet and smiled uncertainly. The woman looked furious and scary, but she softened when she looked up at Blaine.

"Yes, thanks," the woman blushed, pushing her hair back over her ear while Blaine gathered up the papers. They looked like interviews and police reports actually. And all of the sudden the nice outfit made sense.

"You're a lawyer?" asked Blaine. He held out the stack of paper for her.

She grimaced, took the papers and shoved them in her bag. "Yeah," she sighed. She hesitated for a second, but Blaine had on his innocent/trustworthy face that annoyed Kurt so much. It was irresistible. "My brother," she gestured behind them at the police station. "They think he killed his girlfriend. But I know he didn't. Cole cries over every smear of roadkill on the side of the road. And he faints at the sight of blood." She snorted.

Cole. That was the one from last night. Kurt was probably talking to him right now. Talking to the sister might help. "I'm sorry," Blaine said sympathetically. "Hope the case goes well for you."

"You and me both," the woman muttered darkly.

"I'm Blaine," Blaine stuck his hand out, beaming a radiant smile. He might be gay, but he knew of the effect he had on women. For some strange reason.

Sure enough, it worked. "Susan. Susan Baldwin." She shook his hand purposefully.

"Nice to meet you," Blaine put on another winning smile.

"So, Blaine," Susan's voice edged into flirting territory, and if there was a god Kurt would not walk out right now. He'd kill Blaine. "Why are you skulking around the police station?" she continued.

"'Skulking'? I do not 'skulk,' thank you," Blaine pretended to be affronted, all the while frantically thinking of logical excuses for hanging around there. He decided the truth might work best here. Or a severely edited version of the truth. "I'm waiting for my partner." Flashed an FBI badge. "We're looking into the murders. We think it might be one person," Blaine cut in hurriedly when her face clouded over. "We think the significant others were framed."

Susan considered his words for a minute. "Good. Glad someone around here is using their brain." She said flatly. "Here. In case you find anything." She took out a business card, jotted something on the back, and handed it to Blaine. "Hope to see you again, sweetie! Prove my brother innocent!" She walked away from him, bouncing a little. When Blaine glanced down at the card, he saw she lived in town. She'd written her cell number on the back. He always felt guilty when he flirted with women but it was useful.

But Kurt was walking out of the brick building. He raised a hand in greeting, waiting by the car for Kurt to walk over.

"We were right; it's another one," Kurt said, loosening his tie with a sigh. "He looks awful. Blaine, even if we kill this thing, we can't let those people in there suffer. They're innocent." His eyes were full of guilt and anguish and Blaine hated that he couldn't clear them.

"We'll think of something." Blaine said. They drove back to the motel, stopping by the town library for books on the way.

As Blaine predicted, Kurt was not happy about Susan. He didn't actually say anything and he didn't yell at Blaine (which was a relief), but he did shoot him very judgmental looks and turned to the window when Blaine tried to apologize. God, he was frustrating.

"All I'm saying," Kurt was saying when they got back to the room. "Is that there are other ways to get information that coming on to a straight girl."

Blaine would never hear the end of this and Kurt hadn't even been there for the incident in question. Wonderful. "Key's are in my back pocket." With his arms filled with the books, Blaine turned around so Kurt could get the keys and unlock the door. He pretended not to see the faint pink tinge on Kurt's cheeks even though it was adorable.

Blaine dumped the books on his bed once Kurt got the door open. He picked the green book for no other reason than the fact that he liked green. Kurt took an enormous red one and they both sat at the small wooden table in the room.

A few hours later, Blaine sighed and let his head hit the table with a loud thunk.

"This is fucking useless." He mumbled into the wood.

Kurt made a noise of agreement. He was looking at a map of Bellevue and trying to figure out how to track the doppelganger. So far, nothing. The attacks and the people were random. None of them knew each other. The only kind of pattern Kurt could see was that the incidents were vaguely in the same area. If the area included half the town. He shoved the map away with a groan.

"Blaine, how're we going to find this thing?"

"No idea." Blaine lifted his head up enough so that only his chin was on the table. "They move through mirrors. And they're attached to the person they're impersonating. So basically, the only requirement is that when they change impersonations, the two people have to be in the same mirror at the same time. Oh. And it's not limited to mirrors either." Blaine scowled at the book in front of him. "Anything with a reflection works. So basically, they can go anywhere; it just might take a little time."

Blaine stood up, throwing on his coat. "I want coffee. Want me to bring some back for you?"

"Yeah, please. If you don't go to a coffee shop, black is fine. Just grab some sugar."

"Sure. Be right back." Blaine waved as he stepped outside. It was getting dark; the sun had just slipped behind the buildings in town. He knew Kurt was likely still angry about the day before, so he figured getting him a non-fat mocha would help Kurt's mood. Luckily, there was a caf� about a block down the street.

Holding his coat closed against the sudden gust of cold wind, Blaine started walking. The caf� was quaint, with little tables scattered around the floor and a nautical theme. He put the order in, and ducked into the bathroom. There were two stalls and a sink with a mirror. Out of habit, he glanced in the mirror, checking the bags under his eyes. He needed more sleep, he really did. Sighing impatiently, Blaine picked a stall and did his business. When he opened the stall door to leave, he stopped.

He was looking at himself. Blaine didn't have time to do more than open his mouth before a fist smacked into his temple and everything went back.

When Blaine finally came back with the coffee, Kurt was almost done taking notes. "One sec," he said, barely glancing up. He finished the line about doppelgangers in Europe before smiling at Blaine. "Thanks," he said, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and sighing happily.

"No prob," Blaine sipped from his own. Kurt felt his eyes on him. It was weird. Sure, he's caught Blaine staring once or twice, but he'd never been so...obvious.

"Is there something on my face?" Kurt's hands flew up. But Blaine just laughed.

"Nope. Your face looks perfect."

And ok. This was officially getting strange. "You ok, Blaine?" Kurt eyed him warily. Blaine looked too happy and too content. For some reason, Kurt felt nervous, something he'd never felt around Blaine before. He stood up, suddenly feeling like a chair was too vulnerable a position when Blaine was staring at him like that.

Blaine took a step forward. "I'm fine," he breathed and then he was in front of Kurt and really close, like too close. Kurt swallowed and tried to step back but his back hit the wall and Blaine was right there.

He could see that Blaine's eyes a little dilated and there were emotions in there that Kurt did not want to think about. Then Blaine was leaning in and Kurt's brain kind of short-circuited for a second and then Blaine was kissing him and he kissed back and it felt really good but also really wrong and Kurt couldn't figure out why and then a voice was screaming in his head this is so wrong Blaine wouldn't do this stop it stop it stopstopstop—

Kurt broke the kiss and pushed Blaine back. They were both breathing heavily, and Blaine kept glancing down at Kurt's lips. No. This was not right. "Why did you do that?" Kurt said breathily, suspicion still twisting his guts. He was torn in half—he wanted to kick himself for being scared instead of aroused when Blaine, the guy he was pretty sure he was in love with, finally kissed him, but he also wanted to keep Blaine the hell away because he was acting weird and Kurt was terrified.

Blaine finally looked into Kurt's eyes. "Because I wanted to," he said and stepped forward for another kiss, but Kurt held him at arm's length. For a second, Blaine's eyes because angry and furious, but then they changed into innocent confusion. "Kurt, what's wrong? Isn't this ok?"

With Blaine it would be ok, but Kurt was starting to think the boy in front of him was something else entirely.

"Kurt, I love you. That's all. I just want love." Blaine smiled tentatively.

Something clicked in Kurt's mind. The thought was still unformed but the parts of it that were…well, Kurt reached behind him where he'd stowed the silver knife in his back pocket. When he was in the police station, he'd moved it so he'd have easy access to it. The metal was cool in his hands when he pulled it out, but he kept it hidden. "Take off your shirt." Kurt's voice sounded strangled to himself.

Blaine smiled again and winked. But he pulled off the t-shirt in one smooth moment and stood before Kurt, all muscle and light hair and bandaged on his right shoulder.

Kurt gasped and held the knife in front of him defensively. "Get away from me." He said dangerously. His blood was thudding in his ears and Kurt was suddenly more terrified than he'd even been in his life.

"What? Kurt, it's just me Blaine held up his hands when Kurt jabbed the knife forward. "What the hell, Kurt?"

"Blaine—the real Blaine—cut himself on his left shoulder. Yours is on the right. You aren't Blaine, so what the hell have you done with him you bastard?" Kurt yelled, the knife shaking in his hand. His heart was pounding and he tried not to think of Blaine lying in a bathroom somewhere dying. That was too horrible to contemplate.

The thing's face twisted into real anger and it growled, much lower than any normal human would be able to. It jumped at Kurt, who screamed and slashed with the silver knife. Kurt felt the knife bite into skin and the stench of burning flesh hit his nose. A fist hit Kurt's cheekbone hard and Kurt's hissed at the pain, but fought back. He kicked out powerfully, and the doppelganger yelped and broke out of the fight. It backed away across the room, watching Kurt carefully and cradling its arm. There was a long cut on it, the edges burned and faintly smoking. Kurt readied himself for another attack, but then the motel door burst open and a disheveled and frantic-looking Blaine with a huge purple bruise on his temple was standing there.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, all of them tense.

The doppelganger growled in frustration, then turned around jumped through the large window next to the door. The glass shattered and Kurt heard its footsteps thudding against the pavements as it ran.

Blaine's mouth was open as he stared first at the window, then Kurt, then the knife. He came over slowly, and Kurt realized he was still holding the knife like he was about to attack with it. Kurt forced his arms to relax and he stuffed the knife in his back pocket. He winced when Blaine carefully touched his bruised face.

"God…" Blaine breathed. Kurt saw how Blaine was horrified and upset with himself for not protecting Kurt—Kurt would be angry and annoyed at this, but he had much bigger problems at the moment.

He tried to calm his breathing. "Blaine, he said something about love. Wanting love, I mean. He's going to attack someone else." Kurt grabbed his coat and put it on, dodging Blaine's efforts to stop him. "Come on, Blaine! We have to go!"

Blaine sighed, but gave up trying to restrain him. "Kurt, we don't know where he'd go."

True. Kurt thought a minute. "Wait. He wants love. He wants someone to love him. And I don't think the gender matters." Blaine got a sick look on his face, like he realized maybe what his double had tried to do with Kurt. For the sake of time, though, Kurt ignored it. "That lawyer earlier. It might have been attached to one or both of you. Maybe it's going after her? From what you said, she was attracted to you and she wouldn't know you well enough to realize something's wrong."

He almost sighed in relief when Blaine nodded. "Makes sense. He dug out her business card. "I got her address, which means he does too. Let's go." Kurt didn't need any more encouragement than that, practically running at the car. He hoped they weren't too late.

Susan sat of her couch with a glass of wine and a million papers to look through. Somewhere in this mess was a way to save her brother, and she was going to find it, dammit. At least she hoped she did. Susan groaned and tried to resist the urge to throw everything on the floor and go to bed.

She needed a break. That was it. She needed a few minutes to simply relax and relive all her tension before tackling this case. If only that Blaine guy was here. She definitely wouldn't mind relaxing with him.

The doorbell rang, startling her. It was almost nine pm, who would be ringing a doorbell now? Susan frowned, glanced down at her sweat pants and tank top, and decided who ever it was would just have to deal with her in all her glasses-and-pajamas glory. When she opened the door, however, she rethought her priorities.

"Blaine! What the hell are you doing here?" She gaped, taking in his bare torso, wounded shoulder and cut arm. He was breathing heavily, like he'd run a long distance. But still. Only a few minutes ago he'd wished he was here and now Blaine was standing on her doorstep. Maybe there is a God, she thought absently and she stepped aside to let him in.

Before closing the door, she glanced around, but the night was empty. Susan wondered where Blaine got attacked and was a bit flattered he came here. "Blaine what—oh!" Susan felt herself shoved against the now-closed door. Blaine kissed her deeply and hungrily and Susan briefly thought about why before deciding that she really didn't care.

"Do you love me?" Blaine whispered against her lips, grinding their bodies together.

Well, hey, that was interesting. She'd never had a guy ask her that unless they were already dating. And it was really hard to think with his hips doing the things they were doing, but she did her best.

"Yeah—sure—whatever—oh God," she gasped out. Susan was so caught up in her haze of lust that it was a few seconds before she realized Blaine had stopped. "Blaine?"

He shook his head. "You're just like the others," he said sadly. Blaine backed away from her, heading deeper into her house. "I thought maybe you'd be different—maybe you'd love me but you don't." His voice was full of regret and Susan felt a tendril of fear creep up her spine.

"What are you talking about, Blaine?" Susan tried to sound brave, but her voice trembled. She followed Blaine into the kitchen. "I've only known you for a few hours, how can I love you already?" The tendril of fear became bigger when she saw him pick up a large knife from the rack. He slowly twirled it in his hand, examining every inch of it. "Your reflection." Susan felt sick when she saw it. Or didn't see it. "It's gone." Blaine smiled and held up the knife so it showed her pale and scared face. He waved his hand in front of it, but the picture never changed.

"I'm just going to try again. I'll find someone one day." Blaine swung the knife at her and Susan screamed, ducking and running away. She tore down chairs and tables behind her, hoping to slow the madman down.

God, she was an idiot. Susan had seen all those slasher flicks. The pretty girl always dies when she has sex. Or is about to have sex. And clearly, Blaine is a madman. She darted past the couch, through the hallway and into her bedroom, where she closed the door, locked it and struggled to drag the heavy dresser in front of the door while Blaine pounded on it impatiently.

"Leave me alone!" Susan shrieked, sobbing. She finally got the dresser in front of the door, but Blaine was still hitting it hard enough that the hinges were groaning. The ceaseless thumping terrified Susan even though she knew Blaine would have a hard time bust through the mahogany dresser. As much as he scared her, the fact still remained that Blaine was no Michael Myers. He was short and not nearly as huge. Another loud thump hit the door and the dresser slid forward a few inches. Susan whimpered.

She nearly tripped as she ran to the bedside table, but managed to stay upright long enough to reach it. Susan fumbled the phone before dialing the police. The door bucked again and she backed into the window. An idea occurred to her, and she pulled aside the curtains. Maybe there would be people out there that could help her faster than the police. A car drove up outside her place and two dark figures scrambled out. She banged on the window, screaming. The taller one saw her, grabbed the other and pointed. They ran towards her door, out of sight.

There was a voice in her ear. Susan took a deep, gulping breath so she could speak clearly. She began telling the 911 dispatcher about Blaine.

The townhouses Susan lived in were actually really nice. Not that Blaine was really paying attention. He was a little distracted after seeing Susan screaming for help at her window. The door was locked, so he moved aside and let Kurt pick the lock. For some reason, that was another random skill Kurt picked up almost instantly. He was much better than Blaine, at least, and the door was open in less than a minute. Barely waiting for Kurt to stuff his tools back in his pocket, Blaine pushed past Kurt.

It was quiet. Blaine put a finger to his lips to warn Kurt to be silent, who just nodded, knife back in hand. Blaine slowly trained the flashlight beam around the room. It was destroyed, chairs and tables toppled everywhere. Blaine motioned for Kurt to go to the right, where Susan should be. With Kurt gone, Blaine crept up the hallway, holding his own knife ready for an attack. It was fairly short: only eight inches, but he wasn't certain that silver bullets would work so he'd just have to get close.

As Blaine moved from room to room, he found himself getting angry. That doppelganger took his appearance and attacked Kurt, and now was trying to kill an innocent woman. It was insulting and quite frankly, Blaine felt violated. He wanted to kill the thing himself.

A scream behind him made Blaine jump about a foot and almost drop the knife. He turned around to find Susan fighting with Kurt and shouting. Kurt struggled to hold her hands down and yelled right back.

"You're working with him? With HIM? You bastard, let me go!"

"Oh for the love of God, stop it! The guy that hurt you wasn't Blaine!" Blaine winced when one of her fists collided with Kurt's nose.

This had gone far enough. He was smaller than a lot of guys, but he still had muscles from lugging around sixty pounds of ammo and guns daily. Blaine wrapped his arms around Susan and pulling the struggling figure off Kurt. She was sobbing and trying to kick him, but Blaine held on.

"I promise, I won't hurt you. I just got here; the man hurting you earlier wasn't me. I'm Blaine. The real Blaine. And that's Kurt. We're only here to help so can you please calm down?" he spoke directly into her ear. Blaine's voice was in soothing-mode, and he felt Susan slowly relaxing. "I know this doesn't make sense yet, but I promise we'll explain everything when this is over. Now, where did it go?"

Susan stopped struggling. Blaine cautiously let her go, hoping she wouldn't attack again. Her wide eyes slid from Blaine to Kurt. "He didn't have a reflection. Am I dreaming?" she asked Kurt.

"Unfortunately not." Kurt touched his nose and hissed. "Damn, that hurt."

"He stopped hitting my door when you guys came in. I don't know where he went." Susan rubbed her eyes. "I'm going insane. Trusting you two." She spat, glaring. "Especially you. You tried to seduce me!"

Kurt looked up and glared at that. "I didn't!" Blaine protested. "That wasn't me!" Kurt gave him a look that promised there would be a conversation about this later.

Blaine sighed and kept searching the townhouse. He walked into the dining room. Before he could hit the lights, though, something grabbed his ankles and yanked. With a yelp, Blaine toppled to the floor, kicking out wildly at the dark under the table. Kurt yelled something and Susan screamed, but Blaine suddenly felt himself tackled by a figure about his size.

The doppelganger grappled with Blaine, the two of them rolling around the floor and colliding with the chairs and the table. Its knife missed Blaine's face by about a millimeter and Blaine tried to free his wrist long enough to stab it. He was on his back with the doppelganger straddling his chest. Blaine couldn't get enough leverage to force it off, though.

"I—just—wanted—love!" the doppelganger forced out between grunts. "Living your whole life behind a mirror? Being trapped?" It swung the knife and Blaine twisted his face away just in time. "I had to get out! Was that too much to ask?"

"No. But killing people for it was." Kurt's voice was sad.

The doppelganger stopped struggling. Its eyes widened slightly in shock and it turned its head slightly. A knife was jammed into its back near its heart, buried up the hilt. Behind him, Kurt looked miserable. He released the knife. It fell over, breathing shallowly. The wound smoked and sparked, and Blaine eased himself out from under the doppelganger.

Blaine watched himself die. It gave a violent shudder and then collapsed in on itself, turning into dust. The silver knife clattered to the floor, strangely loud in the silent apartment. Numbly, Blaine reached out and picked it up. He saw his reflection was back. Kurt was staring at the pile of dust, only looking up when Blaine put his hand on his shoulder.

They might have stayed like that for a few more minutes, except that Susan was there. And was not dealing well. "What. The hell. Was that." She began hyperventilating. "Oh my god. Oh god. What the fuck."

Blaine winced. "It was a doppelganger. A creature that takes over reflections and can live outside of mirrors for a little while. It's what's been killing people here." Susan didn't look like she completely believed him, but she wasn't screaming. "Um, Kurt and I hunt creatures like that."

The scream of sirens suddenly split the air. Susan paled. "Oh my god. I called the police earlier." Blaine didn't immediately get what the problem was but Kurt did.

"You described Blaine, didn't you. Oh shit." Kurt rubbed his face. "The police are so goddamn slow! If they'd been here a few minutes earlier…"

Well, that would be a problem. It could work out though. But they only had a few minutes. "Susan. Listen. Here's what you're gonna do. Say you fought me off and that I confessed to the other murders. I'm going to stay here long enough for one of the officers to see me—so they know you aren't lying—and then I'm gonna run out the back where Kurt will have the car." Kurt looked furious and ready to protest but Blaine cut him off. "It's the only way to make sure the others in jail aren't blamed for the attacked. It'll be tricky, but it'll work. Just…when you describe me, don't do it too well, ok?" He smiled sheepishly at Susan.

She stared, then threw her arms around him and hugged tightly. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

Kurt groaned and pulled him out of her grip. "That's enough, Romeo." He glared. "Where's the back door?"

The two officers stood outside the Baldwin residence and eyed each other nervously. Riley Cooper was still a rookie and Ben Washburn was only a few years older. Bellavue was a small enough town that the police didn't get much action, so this call was highly unusual and therefore terrifying. A slight man with tall hair that was walking past gave them a weird look. Riley hand a hand up in greeting as the man got into the blue and white Mustang he'd been admiring earlier. Once the man drove away; Riley decided it was now or never. With a deep breath, he prepared himself.

"Police! Open up!" Riley shouted, banging on the door with one hand and holding his gun in the other. When there was no answer, Riley twisted the handle and pushed the door in. He went in first, Ben covering him from behind. It was dark, so both men switched their flashlights on. They balanced their gun-holding hand on the hand holding the flashlight. A scream erupted from the kitchen and, abandoning all training, the two officers ran towards the noise, the light beams swinging wildly.

An average-sized man with dark curly hair stood over a terrified woman. She had a few shallow cuts but otherwise looked alright. She screamed again and before either officer could fire, the man ran out the back door.

"Stop!" Ben shouted. He stayed long enough for Riley to calm the woman, then followed the attacker. The backyard was incased by a high fence, though, and he cursed. The man could be anywhere. He turned and ran through the house, back to the patrol car.

An hour later, Blaine's description was on every news broadcast in Oklahoma.

-US-40, somewhere in Texas-

Kurt was driving and he was angry. Blaine could tell by the way Kurt kept his eyes on the road and wouldn't let Blaine turn the radio on. The past few hours had been torture. And by the looks of it, Kurt wasn't going to be the one to break the silence and Blaine knew from experience that Kurt was a fucking master at holding grudges.

He'd have the bigger man and he hated it.

"Kurt—"

"Shut up, Blaine, I don't want to talk to you right now." Kurt snapped.

Blaine complied instantly. Well ok then.

They drove for another half an hour before Kurt pulled into an empty rest station. He parked the car at the end of the lot. Blaine stayed silent, letting Kurt take his time. Kurt gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if trying to calm down. For some reason Blaine was suspecting there'd be a huge blowup really soon.

"You know, it's really rich of you to go on and on about how awful you'd feel if I died when you just go and throw yourself into dangerous situations without a second thought!" Kurt's voice rose until he was shouting by the end.

Bingo.

Kurt ignored Blaine's silence and kept right on ranting. "You're unbelievable. 'Kurt, I want to keep you safe. Kurt, I want to protect you. No, don't ask questions, I won't answer them anyway. You don't need to know anything. I'm just going to throw around knives and—and leap in front of policemen with guns and give them a reason to hunt my ass down and shoot me, but I care about you Kurt." The sarcasm was literally dripping off of every word.

Blaine figured he might try to get a word in when Kurt stopped to take a breath. "You're angry." Shit, that wasn't what he meant to say.

He guiltily looked down when Kurt glared at him. "No shit, Blaine! You're wanted in Oklahoma, and, if I know anything about the United States justice system, the FBI is going to get involved since we crossed state lines and then we'll be tracked down. Both of us. And you know what, Blaine?" Kurt dropped his voice into a dangerous hiss. "I look awful in orange and can't rock that jumpsuit."

He stopped talking. And then giggled. What the? Confused, Blaine just watched Kurt collapse into laughter.

"Um, Kurt?" he said hesitantly. Blaine did not enjoy being yelled at and wasn't eager to set Kurt off again.

"Nothing—it's nothing," Kurt laughed, wiping away a tear and smiling at Blaine. "You realize this time I saved your ass instead of the other way around?"

Blaine smiled. Kurt was right, actually. "Yeah how about that?" Kurt seemed pleased with himself. Another thought occurred to Blaine. "Hey—before, when I was knocked out in the coffee shop,"

"Oh is that where you were?"

"Yeah. But anyway. How'd you know he wasn't me?"

To Blaine's surprise, Kurt colored a little. "Um," and yeah, Kurt clearly did not want to discuss this, "Your shoulder."

Descriptive. "What about my shoulder?"

Kurt shifted uneasily. "Well, your stitches are on your left shoulder. His was on the right. Since he's a mirror image and all. So it couldn't be you." His cheeks were slowly getting redder. It was adorable.

"Kurt, why are you blushing?"

"No reason." Kurt threw the car into reverse and drove back to the highway, this time turning on the radio.

I'm lost at sea

The radio is jammin' but they won't find me

I swear it's for the best and then your frequency

Is pulling me in closer till I'm home

"I wish you'd tell me why you've been so moody and worried lately," Kurt finally said.

Blaine didn't answer right away. Kurt was right, though. He was an adult. He chose this path knowing most of the dangers. And Kurt wasn't the helpless princess he appeared to be. It wasn't fair of Blaine to shield him like he had. The world was dangerous, but Kurt was willing to risk it, so why shouldn't Blaine let him in?

"The last few months—maybe years, actually—creatures have been showing up much more often than usual. Everything is up. Ghost sightings, vampire attacks, demonic possessions—everything. And a few hunters have been muttering to each other of a 'storm approaching.' Kurt," Blaine turned to look at Kurt, more serious than he'd even been before. "No one knows what that means, but it's not good. It's always dangerous to be a hunter, but now…" Blaine trailed off. He sighed before continuing. "Now, it's insanity. Things are going to get bad Kurt. I don't know how bad, but…bad. And I'm scared." Blaine whispered the last part, half-hoping Kurt didn't hear.

But he forgot that Kurt has supersonic hearing. "It's a good thing then that you're travelling with back-up then." Kurt winked. Blaine smiled in spite of himself. Kurt's voice dropped a little. "Thank you for telling me. Don't worry, though. We'll get through this."

"How do you know?" But Kurt only smiled and looked back at the road, humming the song and bobbing his head to the beat.

You live the life you're given with the storms outside

Some days all I do is watch the sky

Today was a good day.

Blaine snuck his hand over to where Kurt's right was drumming on his thigh. He grabbed Kurt's hand, pretending not to see Kurt's sudden grin and breathy laugh.

He'd enjoy this moment while it lasted and deal with the rest tomorrow.

Today was a good day.