Rainsville, Florida was the most boring town in the history of the world according to fifteen-year-old Justin Delaney.

Seriously.

There was nothing to do here other than go to the movies (which he'd already done) or get high. And he was broke. Justin kicked a crushed beer can and moodily shuffled his way down the dark and empty streets. He scowled when he thought about going home.

It was almost ten and his parents would still be awake, though probably drunk enough to scream at each other by now. Justin hated it.

Why could he have a normal family with a mom and a dad that loved him? Instead, he got a permanently wasted mother and a father that never failed to explain to his son in great detail how much of a disappointment he was.

When Justin graduated high school in three years, he was going out West and was never coming back.

A figure in the shadows up ahead caught his eye. Justin put his hand in his pocket, where he had a small pocketknife tucked away. The streetlights were dim and most of the lights in the buildings around him were off, leaving the street draped with darkness. Justin nervously ran his fingers through his long, dirty-blonde hair. He was afraid, he realized. His mind screamed at him to turn around and run away from the rapidly approaching figure, but Justin couldn't convince his legs to move. Instead, he stood under a streetlamp, listening to the footfalls of the stranger and the faint whistle of music. The type sounded familiar. Kind of like the music from the monkey jack-in-the-box that used to give him nightmares when he was a baby.

The man slid up to Justin—and he did slide, there really was no other verb for the eerie was he slunk into the light, becoming taller and leaner at the same time. He was dressed strangely.

Justin tried to remember where he'd seen a similar outfit. Then he recalled a day trip with his mom before vodka became her best friend. They'd gone to the traveling circus that day and Justin spent the afternoon is a state of wonder and shock and had a constant flow of cotton candy to his mouth. When they entered the big tent (the bigtop, his mother called it) and sat down, a man came out and all the lights went out except for one spotlight aiming on him. His mother whispered that he was the ringmaster, that he ran the whole show.

The man was dressed like him. Like the ringmaster from that ancient circus. Only his coattails were longer and more frayed and Justin could see the costume was worn and faded and covered in strange stains. The man's long, oily black hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had a beaten black top hat on his head. The curled moustache and sharp goatee completed the image. If he was going for the "slightly unhinged circus guy" look, Justin was pretty sure the man had it down pat.

"You look like a distinctive boy," the man said, his words slipping and sliding around Justin's ear. The uneasy and nervous feeling crept up to the surface and Justin fought the urge to run. "Why not come to the circus for a night of fun?" The man pressed a sheet of paper into Justin's hands, smiling.

COME TO THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, it said. The advertisement spoke about fortune tellers, trained animals, clowns and in one corner in small print, a freak show with a warning that only those eighteen and older could attend. It didn't seem like the kind of circus he'd gone to with his mother. Justin wanted to go. No, he needed to go. But…

"No thank you." Justin tried to hand the paper back. "I don't have the money."

But the ringmaster simply grinned another spine-chilling grin and produced a slip of paper. "You are in luck then, child." He chuckled lightly. "We are giving away a few tickets to drum up sales. Why don't you take one," Justin found himself holding the ticket, "and come join us tomorrow night out past the Kenda's plantation? We open at dusk."

Justin stared at the man for a while. It was too good to be true. It had to be too good to be true. The man was still smiling, his moustache curling up menacingly. Justin wouldn't go. Something was off about this whole thing. But best to be polite.

"Thank you. I'll think about it." He finally said, taking a step backwards. Suddenly, he just really wanted to be home.

The man tipped his hat. "That you shall," he said, winking. He turned away, walking back into the shadows and whistling that same strange calliope tune. Justin watched him leave, then glanced back at the papers in his hands.

He wasn't going. He didn't trust that man. But the idea stuck in his head and Justin felt strangely compelled to…no. No, he would stay in tomorrow and play a marathon of Call of Duty on his refurbished Xbox. And he would not, under any circumstances, go to a creepy carnival after dark.

-Just outside Rainesville, Florida-

"Seriously, Blaine? We're stopping for pie?"

"Damn straight, we're stopping for pie!"

Kurt arched an eyebrow at Blaine's grin. The boy was secretly a five-year-old in a grown-up's body, Kurt just knew it. He was practically bouncing in his seat in anticipation of the calorie-loaded treat. All because of one billboard ad about ten miles back.

"You're five." Kurt nodded to himself sadly.

Blaine laughed. "No, I just know how to enjoy myself. Pie is amazing. If you ever ate something heavier than a salad, maybe you'd realize that."

"No, I just know how to take care of myself. And pie does not help."

"You love pie. I remember Thanksgiving. Ow!" Blaine shot a hurt look at Kurt, who ignored it. "No abusing the driver. Besides, you should thank pie."

Kurt glanced at Blaine. "What?"

"I'm serious!" Blaine grinned again, but then his expression grew serious. "It's why I stopped in Lima. I may not have met you if I hadn't wanted one of Ms. Pillsbury's pies." His voice softened.

Well, that was interesting. "Really?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. I saw one her signs on the highway, and thought pie sounded great, so I took the next exit. And then my car broke and…you know." He shrugged.

Kurt watched Blaine from the corner of his eye. His whole life changed because Blaine decided he wanted a pie? The universe was insane. All these different coincidences conspiring to bring them together. "Well, then. When we have a pie in front of us, I will thank it for breaking your car down." Kurt deadpanned, laughing when Blaine playfully hit his shoulder.

But Kurt knew he would. Silently, of course. Because Blaine was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Pie. Blaine had no idea why he loved pie so much. Maybe it was because he very rarely got a real home-cooked meal while growing up. Everything was from a can or frozen. And a pie had to be handmade even if it was bought in a store. Well, the fresh ones at least.

That must be it. Blaine happily shoved another spoonful of apple and pie crust in his mouth, watching Kurt do the same. He wanted a piece of real home life. And pies embodied that for him.

"You know," Kurt said around a mouthful of dessert. "If you ever splurge for a room with a kitchen, I will make you a real pie. Not this half-cooked crap." He smirked from across the table.

"Oh my God, really?" Blaine wanted that. He so wanted that. Maybe one day.

The diner they were in was small, along with the town. A few older customers huddled around one of the booths playing cards, and there were some couples scattered around. The owner stood behind the counter and lethargically wiped down glasses, smacking her gum. People talked and laughed to eat other. But there was a tension in the room Blaine couldn't identify. The scene was normal enough, but just underneath…

"Blaine?" Kurt looked at him with concern. "You alright?"

Did Kurt feel it? Blaine decided to ask. "Yeah. But um…do you…do you think this place is a little strange?"

"Well, there is a stuffed crocodile on the wall above the door." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "What's up? Are your 'hunter senses' tingling?" Kurt took a sip of coffee, but Blaine could see him hiding a smile.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just me." Blaine finished his slice and sighed.

Years of being on the road and running into every evil creature under the sun made Blaine paranoid. Blaine scraped up the last of the pie crumbs and pushed the cleared plate away.

While he waited for Kurt to eat the rest of his pie, a girl with an armful of papers walked up to them.

She was pretty, maybe in her early twenties with a long red plait tossed over her shoulder and dark circles under her blue eyes. Blaine thought she looked like she got less sleep than Kurt, which was a feat in itself.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, forcing a smile. "My name is Nicole Jordan. Um, I know you aren't from around here 'cause we know everyone in this town," She glanced around, and the few locals that had been staring looked back at whatever they were doing. "But I was wondering if you could help." She took a sheet from her pile and handed it to Blaine.

A teenage boy with sad eyes and a mop of light-colored hair gazed up at him with the word MISSING printed in bold letters above his head.

"His name is Justin Delaney. He's a friend of my little brother's." Nicole sighed. "He didn't come home last night and no one knows where he could be. Adam—my brother—said he was going to the carnival outside of town, but they didn't see him either. So could you guys just…be on the lookout? He doesn't have a great home life, but he's a sweet kid. We're all really worried."

Something was off. Blaine knew something she said sounded familiar, but it wouldn't come to him. Unless…

"You said he went to a carnival? What's the name of it?" Blaine ignored Kurt's questioning glances. It just all sounded so familiar; like d�j� vu, if only Blaine could remember everything.

Nicole thought a moment. "Something weird. Malevo or Malfico or—"

"'Malvagio's Travelling Circus'?"

She grinned. "Yeah, that was it! Did you see a sign or something?" But Blaine wasn't listening.

Fuck. This was so bad. Why here? Why now? Blaine breathed shallowly but tried not to show how panicked he really was. But nothing got past Kurt.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked cautiously, putting his hand on Blaine's. "You alright?"

He needed to talk to Kurt. Kurt would know what to do. But Nicole couldn't be dragged into this. They needed to go, right now, and figure out a plan.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He said hurriedly, throwing a few bills on the table. "We gotta go though. To that thing. You know?" Oh dear God let Kurt get the hint.

Still looking at Blaine like he suddenly grew an extra eye, Kurt nevertheless nodded. "Right. Of course." With considerable more calmness than Blaine, who itched to get out of the diner, Kurt slid out of the booth and stood.

Blaine turned to Nicole. "I'm sorry about your friend. We'll keep an eye for him though. Can I keep this?" Blaine waved the flyer. Nicole nodded slowly, obviously confused. Blaine wished he had more time to explain but if this was what he thought, he and Kurt only had a few hours until another vanishing.

Kurt was taking forever to put on his jacket and seriously? They were in fucking Florida; the temperature was about 60 and the car was right outside the door. Once Kurt was finally, finally ready, Blaine tugged him across the diner and pushed him outside.

Oh. One more thing though. "Nicole?" Blaine ran back inside to the stunned girl, leaving Kurt alone in the parking lot. "Listen—don't go to the carnival. Alright? Just…stay away from it. We'll look for the kid." He smiled awkwardly at her before running outside.

Blaine really hoped she'd listen.

It was official, Kurt decided while standing outside in the night. Blaine had gone crazy.

He had never seen Blaine so worked up about a potential job. Kurt crossed him arms in the cool breeze as he waited for Blaine to get back. When Nicole mentioned the carnival and the name—Malvagio or something?—Blaine had gone so white. Blaine was scared.

And when something scared Blaine? Kurt knew he should be terrified.

The parking lot was kind of creepy, actually. Kurt stood underneath one of the two streetlights, next to an ancient deep green Dodge van. He was musing on Blaine's weirdness when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

A man was standing in front of him and hey, what? Kurt knew he hadn't been out of it enough to miss the man walking up to him. It was like he just appeared there; no leading footsteps or breaths to give him away. The man grinned, showing yellowed teeth. Kurt's instincts were going haywire.

And the man had awful taste in clothes. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the sight of stains, frayed threads, and missing sequins. The coattails could be fashionable if they were actually the same length and the top hat might be fancy if it didn't have a giant grey patch on the side and a bit of the brim missing.

"Come see the carnival," the man breathed in a silky voice. He held out a worn flyer to Kurt, who took it gingerly.

The flyer had "Malvagio's Travelling Circus" written on the top in a carnival-themed font with times and illustrations underneath. It looked innocent enough. But the paper felt heavy in Kurt's hands, like it was carrying something. Something evil. Kurt fought the desire to tear the paper up into tiny shreds and run away, instead forcing a polite smile on his face.

He jerked back when the man reached out a long finger and ran it over Kurt's cheek. "Maybe one day you'll join us," the man whispered. Kurt's stomach rolled at the confident tone in his voice. He didn't like it. He didn't like the man either, or his clothes, or his fingers, or his eyes, which were roving all over Kurt's body and where the fuck was Blaine?

"Kurt!"

Hearing Blaine's voice, Kurt whipped his head around and caught sight of his friend. Oh thank God. Blaine waved at him and walked over, zipping up his coat on the way.

"Hey! You ok? You look pale." Blaine frowned at Kurt's white face.

"N-nothing, nothing, I'm fine it's just Kurt pointed at the man behind him, but when he turned around, the parking lot was empty. He stood, dumbfounded at the empty place where the man should have been.

"Kurt?" Blaine looked at him strangely.

"There was a man here." Kurt stated, still trying to comprehend the fact that a solid, tangible being was right next to him not two minutes ago and now was gone.

Surprisingly, Blaine just sighed. "Well, come on. We've got a few hours to get ready; the library doesn't close until eight." He walked to the Mustang.

Kurt frowned, but followed. "You're still explaining what the hell went on in the diner. And the man was real. He gave me this." He thrust the flyer into Blaine's hands, not liking how pale Blaine went at the sight of the name. "Seriously, Blaine. You know what's going on. Spit it out." Folding his arms, Kurt stood in front of his door and glared.

"I will, I promise. Please get in the car?" Blaine bounced on his feet anxiously. "A few hours, Kurt."

"Are we hunting tonight then?"

"We're hunting tonight."

Well. This will be interesting.

-Eastview, Colorado, 2003-

"We're going to be gone for a week. Stay in the room. Do not leave this room." The tall man glared at his curly-haired teenage son as he checked his shotgun one last time. His wife was already in the Mustang out the gritty motel room.

"Okay."

"I mean it, Blaine." The man hiked a huge bag over his shoulder and stomped to the door. He turned to give his son a once over. "Stay in here and read your books. Or play that guitar thing."

The boy returned his gaze. "I've read all my books a hundred times each and my guitar needs new strings. As I told you, Dad, every time we passed a music store." Blaine crossed his arms and stood his ground. "I am fifteen years old. I think I can handle going to the library in town without dying." At his father's narrowed eyes, a shiver of fear crept up Blaine's back. He was pushing it, but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth. "You can't keep me locked up in here forever. Let me come. What's the point of teaching me all these things if I never get to practice? I can help. I can be back-up."

But as soon as Blaine spoke, he knew it was a lost cause. His father just clenched his jaw tightly. "You are not old enough, Blaine," Or man enough, the unspoken words hung in the air. Blaine snapped.

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm useless!" he shouted. "And it won't go away by avoiding me!"

It was always the same. Ever since he'd come out two months ago, his father kept making up excuses for him and his wife to hunt alone while Blaine waited behind in yet another dingy motel. Every time, Blaine would ask to go, and his father would say it's too dangerous. But Blaine knew it was because the man couldn't stand to be around a fag for long periods of time. It was only his mother's insistence that Blaine stay with them rather than at New Directions with Mr. Schue.

Blaine's father just stared at his son. "Stay here." He repeated, and then walked out.

Left alone in the room, Blaine didn't move. He was rooted to the spot, glaring at the door when he heard the all too familiar sound of a lock clicking into place.

-Present-

Kurt finished cleaning his gun and glanced at Blaine. The boy had been quiet as they got ready for that night, barely speaking except to tell Kurt what supplies he should pack. Kurt glanced at his duffle bag. It held a shotgun, a large container of salt, lighter fluid, extra matches, a blanket for some reason, rope, and three daggers; on made of silver, one bronze and one iron. Christ, were they hunting or waging war?

"Which knife should I carry?" Kurt called over to Blaine, who was rooting through his own bag.

"The silver," Blaine replied instantly. He didn't even look up.

Kurt frowned, but slipped the knife into his back pocket. The gun went into a pocket on the inside of his brown leather jacket along with a cigarette lighter. Thinking for a moment, Kurt slid a metal file into his boots. Who knew, maybe it would come in handy.

Blaine was still packing, so Kurt wandered over to the window and looked outside. Night had fallen and darkness blanketed the area, except for a patch of light in the distance. The circus. Kurt watched the pulsating light through the trees. He had a feeling they would end up there tonight and he didn't like it. Circuses always gave Kurt the creeps. They were too dirty and seedy. And had clowns. Kurt shivered. He hated clowns. This circus, though, made Kurt instinctively want to run away and never look back. He wasn't looking forward to seeing the man from the parking lot again.

He felt his cheek where the man had stroked. His fingers had felt weird. The skin was dry and felt thin. Like it wasn't real. Kurt shook his head. Don't go there yet, he told himself. Blaine hasn't even explained what we're hunting.

"You ready?" Kurt turned to see Blaine standing at the door with his coat on and bag at his feet. Blaine raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah." Kurt grabbed his stuff, waiting by the car while Blaine locked the room. Kurt watched him toss the bags in the back and get behind the wheel. He still wasn't talking. Up close, the hazel eyes looked cloudy and distracted instead of the usual mix of worry and amusement. "Blaine, you alright?" Kurt asked quietly as Blaine started the car.

Blaine didn't answer. He pulled out of the lot and glanced at the flyer for the carnival again.

"Blaine?"

"I'm fine, it's just…" Blaine sighed, but kept his eyes on the road. "Memories." He said finally.

"So you've run into this thing before then?"

"About seven years ago. In Colorado. I was fifteen." Blaine finally glanced over at Kurt.

So Blaine knew what this was. But…

"I don't understand. If you've run into this before, why is it still breathing? Is this a different one or something?" But that didn't make sense because Blaine remembered the name of the circus and it was the same as the one today.

He saw Blaine shift uncomfortably. "I'm pretty sure it's the same one." Blaine shut his mouth tightly.

Good Lord, getting this boy to talk about his past was like pulling teeth. "Want to elaborate?" Kurt gritted out, trying to resist the urge to smack Blaine upside the head.

Blaine just looked at him with a tortured expression.

"Blaine."

-2003-

He tried to be good and stay in the room. He really did. But teenage boys could only occupy themselves for long inside four walls. Several hours after his parents left, Blaine figured now was as good a time as ever to hunt down new guitar strings. As he was not a complete idiot, he slipped a flashlight and a knife into his jacket pocket besides the wad of cash he'd lifted from his mother earlier that day. If his parents were going to lock him in a room for weeks on end, they could hardly be surprised if he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Right?

Besides, he was a teenager. These periods of rebellion were perfectly normal. Blaine snorted to himself, staring at the doorknob. His life was nowhere near normal.

Come on Blaine. It's just a doorknob. Who gives a shit what your dad says? He can't keep you hidden away forever. Just reach out and turn it. Blaine wrestled with himself as the simple brass circular knob stared back innocently. Fuck, why was it so hard to disobey his father's orders?

Blaine suddenly reached out and twisted the knob before he could think. The door swung open and Blaine stepped through. He locked the door on the inside and shut it, checked that the door wouldn't budge. His father hadn't left the keys, probably hoping to dissuade Blaine from sneaking out without a means of unlocking the door. Blaine fingered the lock picks in his pocket. Sometimes he wondered if his father knew him at all.

The night air was crisp and Blaine felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. Freed from the small room, the teenager inhaled the scent of the woods and the outdoors.

An hour later found Blaine sitting outside an ice cream parlor working on a mint chocolate chip cone with chocolate syrup and gummy bears on top. In his pocket he had his new guitar strings stashed away carefully. He watched as a young couple inside fed their laughing toddler scoops of their enormous sundae. Occasionally the woman would pause and wipe the excess ice cream from the little boy's face, gazing at him with so much love and adoration that Blaine had a hard time breathing.

His own mother hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

Scowling, Blaine stabbed his spoon into his green scoops. He was just about to bring the spoon to his mouth when a shadow fell over him.

Instinctively, Blaine jumped up and fingered the blade in his pocket, glaring distrustfully at the strangely dressed man in front of him. A beaten hat, worn coattails, and stray strings. And were those sequins? The man grinned and fingered his slick moustache, holding out a piece of paper to Blaine.

Against his instincts, Blaine blinked and took it.

"I think it might be a warlock." Blaine said. "That's what my dad thought he was last time. Malvagio, I mean." After seven years, he was still embarrassed about this? Get a grip, Blaine. Kurt was looking at him like he expected more. Well, he does deserve the whole story, right? "Look, Kurt, my parents…" Blaine trailed off, watching the road intently.

He felt Kurt put a hand on his shoulder and unconsciously relaxed at the slight pressure. "Take your time, Blaine."

"My parents aren't thrilled I'm gay." Blaine suddenly said. It sounded bitter to his ears, but hey, he was a bitter old soul by now. The hand on his shoulder tensed up. "When I came out, they didn't throw me out or anything, but my dad started to avoid me, which meant leaving me in motels while he and Mom went hunting. And one time, I just got so bored and so angry I left. Without his permission." Blaine swallowed hard. "Um. I was out by myself and this man came up to me and gave me a flyer for this circus that started after dark, and it looked so cool and I was fifteen and bored and so damn cocky, that I went."

Kurt stayed quiet during his explanation, which made Blaine nervous. But he decided to press on.

"Yeah, so anyway," Blaine rubbed his face with his hand. Long ignored guilt bubbled up into his stomach. "The man gave me this ticket that said to come to this one tent for a special treat. And like an idiot, I followed. In the tent, these clowns attacked me and knocked me out. When I woke up, it was close to midnight and I was tied to a pole. There was another kid tied up a few feet away. A girl. Her name was Lizzy."

Lizzy. With wide blue eyes and long blond hair and a pretty dress with flowers on them. She'd smiled at Blaine when he had woken up. That's what Blaine remembered most. That even when the sweet teenage girl was terrified out of her mind and tears trickled down her cheeks, she still smiled at him and told him everything was going to be alright.

Blaine's stomach twisted again at the memory of that smile. "Anyway. Long story short. The warlock was planning to use us in a spell for immortality. He needed our hearts. We were both tied up and Malvagio was just laughing at us while his henchmen readied the site for the spell. My parents showed up, and fought with him, but in the end, Lizzy ended up dead and Malvagio vanished. We haven't been able to track him down but I guess the spell is wearing off…"

He cautiously looked at Kurt. The boy had his eyes lowered, as if thinking.

"So…clowns?" Kurt's eyes flickered up.

Blaine blinked. "Out of that whole story, you latch onto the clowns? Seriously, Kurt?" A little giggle slipped out.

He felt Kurt poke his side. "Shut up. Clowns are scary. I hate clowns." Kurt settled back against his seat, eyes glinting mischievously. "I'm totally being serious. Stop making fun of me! Fine, we'll see how well you handle it when I scream like a girl and hide behind you at the sight of those painted horrors."

"They're just clowns, Kurt." Blaine tried to keep his face straight.

"Murderous clowns, Blaine. I'm totally justified." Kurt cocked an eyebrow, his expression softening. "We're finishing this tonight. Ok?"

Blaine nodded. "Definitely." He was going to redeem himself.

As much as Kurt loved the Mustang, the seats were damn uncomfortable after spending more than nineteen of the last twenty-four hours in them. He stretched as best he could, trying not to hit Blaine in the face while the boy slept. He was slumped over the steering wheel, head buried in his arms. Kurt envied the ability to sleep anywhere. Ever since the dreams started getting worse, Kurt tried to avoid sleep when he could. He fought back a yawn as he looked outside.

The circus was finally winding down. The scattered tents were beginning to close their entrances and the few stragglers left walked past Kurt to their cars. A few clowns wandered the sparse crowd and Kurt immediately crouched down. He really wasn't kidding earlier. Kurt hated clowns. It was the smile. The permanent smile creeped him out. Kurt unfolded just enough for his eyes to clear the window as he watched the clowns congregate under one of the lamp posts and mutter to each other.

Huh. Weird. They kept glancing around and fidgeting.

And those outfits.

Granted, clown outfits were never fashionable, but even from twenty-feet away, Kurt could see the stains and patches on the jumpsuits. The patterns looked washed out and faded under the harsh light.

What were they saying? Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was still out. Oh good Lord, the boy is useless. Debating for a second, Kurt decided there was no harm in trying. As quietly as possible, he rolled his window down a few inches. Instead of the clowns, though…

"Are we sure this is a good idea? Is this even legal?"

Oh my god. Shit. Nicole. Kurt groaned to himself, cursing her idiocy. Did no one ever listen to Blaine? One her friends answered her and Kurt willed his eyes to pierce the gloom better. He couldn't see them, but the clowns definitely could. The five or so turned to face the fortune teller's tent. Kurt's eyes widened when he saw of the clowns, the one with fluffy blue hair and a polka-dotted costume, pull out an enormous knife.

Ok. Time for Blaine.

Blaine had his head twisted to the side, so Kurt slipped a hand over his mouth to muffle him and gently shook Blaine awake. Blaine jolted, but stayed quiet when Kurt lifted his finger to his mouth. Blaine's brows furrowed, but nodded.

"What's going on?" he whispered when Kurt lowered his hand.

"Nicole and some friends are here. Something about a dare to spend the night in the funhouse. The clowns are going after them." Kurt shrugged into his leather jacket. "What weapons are we taking?"

"Silver works best. But they can be wounded with almost anything. Warlocks are basically people that have sold their souls to demons in exchange for magic." Blaine handed Kurt an extra knife and bullets. "As for the clowns, I don't really know what they are yet." He checked his shotgun before flashing Kurt with a grin.

Oh hell no. "You don't know what the clowns are? So what, we're just going to wing it?" He was going to kill Blaine. He really was. God, he hated clowns.

"Yep." Blaine said cheerfully. Kurt opened his mouth to protest some more, but sudden shrieks interrupted his pending rant. "Showtime!" Blaine shot out of the car.

Fuck. Kurt steeled himself for a moment, trying not to freak out about the clowns. It wasn't working. He reluctantly followed Blaine.

Nicole could not figure what the hell she was doing here. She pressed closer to her boyfriend, gripping his muscular arms tightly. "Jordan, do we have to do this? Can't we just watch a scary movie and get this whole experience from the safety and warmth of your basement?" The mostly darkened tents loomed eerily in the gloom and she suppressed a small whimper.

Her friend rolled her eyes. "God, Nick, stop being such a baby. This'll be fun. We'll get to live a scary movie! Right, Jon?" Sarah winked at her boyfriend and slipped her hand in his. "Besides, we have two huge guys to protect us. We'll be fine."

What a bitch. Nicole glared at the back of her blond hair. Why was she friends with her again? Jordan, sensing how tense she was, pressed a kiss to the top of her hair and gently tugged on her hand and followed their friends. She stayed silent as the group walked through the circus, looking for the funhouse.

"Listen—don't go to the carnival. Alright? Just…stay away from it." The voice echoed in her head. The curly-haired man was weird earlier. He looked so scared when she mentioned the circus. Involuntarily she shuddered. She didn't like this place. Not even during the day. It just felt…off.

Nicole glanced in the shadows between two tents as they passed and shrieked, clutching Jordan's hands in a death grip.

"Shit! Nick, what the hell?" He winced, trying to move his fingers.

"There's something in the shadows! It winked at me!" She began hyperventilating. What the fuck was she thinking, coming here? She couldn't even watch scary movies without a pillow over her face during most of it. She buried her face in Jordan's chest. Nicole decided she wanted to go home.

Her friends were staring at her. "Nicole, there isn't anything there." Jon said gently. "We're the only ones here. Trust me."

"No you aren't." A new voice drawled, causing the group to jump.

A tall, thin man wearing skintight jeans, a black leather jacket, and an annoyed scowl stood in front of them. Next to him was a shorter man, dressed similarly though more relaxed. He had a matching expression and a head of curls as well as a shotgun that dangled in one hand. Nicole gasped as she recognized him.

"Wait, you're from the diner she started.

"Yeah. Blaine. That's Kurt." The shorter man interrupted. "Do you never listen? I thought I told you to stay away." He glared, and Nicole dropped her eyes, embarrassed.

Kurt scoffed. "Ok, party's over. Get out of here. Go." He made a shooing motion with his hands, and Nicole noticed he had a huge knife in one, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. Not needing another excuse, Nicole turned to go, but Jordan's hand fell on her should and pulled her back. Looking at her friends, Nicole groaned inwardly. Oh, fantastic, now she was going to have to deal with male egos.

"And who the fuck are you?" Jon set his jaw angrily. He was taller than both strangers and didn't take well to the disgusted look Kurt was giving them. "What gives you the right to tell us what to do? We're going to stay in the funhouse until dawn. And you can't stop us."

Kurt looked at him like he was single dumbest human being on the face of the earth. "Wait—what? Why? What's the point? And wasn't that the plot of some god-awful horror movie?"

Nicole felt her boyfriend stiffen. "We're doing it cause we'll bond over it and cause its fun." He said. A pause. "It was in the movie Funhouse."

"Yeah, I seem to recall that everyone in that movie died you idiotic Neanderthals, are people really this stupid, Blaine?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

Blaine just shrugged. "Look, seriously, guys. This isn't a normal circus; you could get really hurt here. Please just go, Kurt and I can handle this—"

Snorting with laughing, Jon smirked at the men. "Oh please. There's nothing to handle. We'll be perfectly fine; you two just run along and leave us alone."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue but something over Jon's shoulder caught his eye. Instead of verbally abusing the blond, Kurt's eyes widened and he cursed under his breath. He grabbed Nicoles's arm and pushed her behind him, raising the knife. "Fuck—Blaine! Clowns!"

Nicole turned and yeah, Kurt was right. At least four clowns, each more tattered and terrifying than the last were a dozen yards away and closing fast, their teeth glinting in the faint light. She squeaked and hid behind Kurt, suddenly really happy that Blaine was toting a shotgun. She peeked over Kurt's shoulder and—what the hell?

"Blaine, warlocks get their power from demons, right?" Kurt asked quietly, ignoring the group behind them. Why was Kurt asking about demons? Nicole refused to move when Jordan tried to coax her off Kurt. She trusted the lanky, pale thing much more than her own boyfriend at the moment.

"Yeah, why?" Blaine glanced over in confusion.

Kurt inclined his head towards the advancing figures. "We got a problem, Blaine." He said nervously.

Nicole squinted at them. It took a second but—

"Their eyes are black!" Sarah shrieked.

Groaning in frustration, Kurt glanced at the other hunter. "We don't have anything that can fight demons, do we?"

Blaine sighed but lifted his shotgun, aiming down the barrels at the demons. "There's a bottle of holy water in your pocket. But other than that, no."

"Right." Kurt whirled around, glaring at the group of friends. "Alright. You and you," Kurt pointed at Jordan and Nicole, "You're with me. Blondie and He-Man are going with Blaine. We're going to run, try to lose them and get back to the car without dying."

"Dying?" Jordan repeated, pale.

"NOW!" Blaine suddenly shouted. He fired a shot into the closest clown, blowing a hole in its side. Kurt grabbed Nicole's arm and shoved Jordan forward, leaving Blaine with the other two. When Nicole looked over her shoulder, she saw Blaine booking it out of there, Sarah and Jon stumbling along in front of him.

She ran in front of Kurt, who turned to fling a splash of holy water at the clowns on their heels. The demons screamed, rubbing at their eyes as their skin smoked. Nicole didn't stop to observe further; instead she concentrated on her boyfriend's back and ignored her screaming legs. They dodged in and out of tents, with little idea as to where they were going.

Nicole's chest began to hurt from running but she didn't slow down. Because there were demons after her. Demons. She pumped her legs harder, seeing Jordan pulling away from her and Kurt. With a cry, Nicole accidentally brought her foot down on a lone stuffed animal and tripped, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Her ankle twisted funny and when she tried to move it stars exploded behind her eyes and pain ripped through her leg. She saw Jordan glance back and expecting him to stop and help her but—no, he turned away and kept running.

"Cowardly bastard!" A voice yelled from behind her. Nicole whimpered when she felt Kurt crouch down next to her. He looked pissed and glared at Jordan's retreating back. "Shit," he muttered when Nicole cried out as he touched her ankle. A few tents away, the clowns let out triumphant shouts at the sight of their prey vulnerable in the open space. "You can't move can you?" Nicole shook her head, tears leaking out of her eyes. Oh God, she was going to die.

Kurt swore under his breath again, and Nicole did not like that panicked look in his eyes. He whipped out his phone and dialed a number but held Nicole's hand tightly. "Come on, come on, pick up!" he muttered.

The demon clowns were almost upon them and Nicole squeezed Kurt's hand. She could see where their makeup was starting to crack and run and the half-smiles added to the overall terrifying picture. God, she hated clowns. Nicole hid her face in Kurt's shirt, her other arm winding across his waist.

"Blaine! Blaine, we He was cut-off by the arrival of the demons. The smaller one kicked Kurt's phone out of his hand while the other stomped on it, shattering the glass screen. Kurt glared and drew himself up, trying to look intimidating even as he crouched on the ground over a small, skinny redhead with a twisted ankle.

Nicole chanced a quick glance and saw three clowns surrounding them, each scarier and bigger than the next. All of their eyes were black.

The large one with curly blue hair snorted at Kurt's posturing. He pulled Nicole off Kurt easily even though she kicked and screamed and Kurt fought back just as hard. Unfortunately, the remaining two clowns gripped each of his two arms and restrained him with little effort. Not that it stopped Kurt from verbally ripping the demons a new asshole. Nicole felt her ears pink at some of the things falling out of Kurt's mouth.

The clouds covering the moon suddenly parted and they were bathed in silver light. The demon holding her froze, gaping at Kurt.

"He was yelling about some guy named 'Blaine' earlier right?" the demon demanded, his hands digging into Nicole's arms. The clown's face was inches from her own. She whimpered at the smell of his rancid breath and tried to turn away, but he just shook her. "Is that Kurt? Kurt Hummel?"

Nicole kept her mouth shut and shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed. Oh god she was a bad liar at the best of times; this was not fair.

"Hey, he does look like Hummel, doesn't he?" the demon with the yellow jumpsuit and an obnoxiously large rubber flower on the front said. He leaned close to Kurt. "It is him!"

Kurt took a deep breath. "Exorcizamus te, omis—mmgh!"

A thick, meaty hand clamped over Kurt's mouth, effectively blocking his attempt at an exorcism. "None of that now, Mr. Hummel." A deep voice whispered in his ear. The strongman chuckled at Kurt's white face. "We've been looking for you for a long time. Wouldn't want this party over too quickly, right?"

His grin chilled Kurt's soul, and he tried again to twist out of the demon's grip, but the hands that held him were like iron. Kurt stopped and just stood there, glaring at the two demons and trying to convey exactly how much he hated these creatures with just his eyes.

The demon tilted his head like a curious child. "Are you going to cooperate?" He sighed when Kurt simply lifted an eyebrow in a universal the-fuck-do-you-think? gesture. "Alecto, take care of him."

Kurt swallowed, but opened his mouth like he was about to speak. Before he could, though, a large fist collided with the side of his face.

Nicole screamed.

Blaine stood guard outside of an unfamiliar car. Sarah and Jon were inside the old Dodge station wagon. They'd lost the clown demons somewhere between the bumper cars and balloon darts, and were waiting for their friends. Silently, Blaine was starting to freak out. Where the hell were Kurt and the other couple? He double checked the salt-loaded shotgun out of nervous energy more than anything else.

Sarah rolled down the window. "Shouldn't they be here by now?" she whispered, glancing at the forest nervously. Through the trees, Blaine could just make out the shadows of the tents.

"Yeah," Blaine said grimly. He felt his phone vibrate for a second before stopping. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Kurt, but he only got the answering machine when he called back. Cold fear trickled up his spine. What if Malvagio had found them? Blaine wasn't sure he could handle someone else dying because of him. Especially if that someone was Kurt. He frowned, narrowing his eyes. Was that movement between the trees?

Blaine readied the gun and shot a look at Sarah, who immediately rolled up the window. Seconds later, Jon switched the car's engine on, though he remained in park. Seconds later, a huge figure burst out of the trees, stumbling and nearly tripping over its feet as it ran towards the car. Blaine raised the shotgun to shoot, but as he caught sight of the figure's face in the moonlight, he lowered it and swore.

"Fuck, Jordan, I almost shot you!" he snarled.

"Sorry," Jordan gasped out, stopping in front of Blaine and doubling over with his hands on his knees. He took deep, gulping breaths, as if he'd been running for a while.

Blaine rolled his eyes, but focused on the trees again, expecting Kurt to materialize any moment. But the trees remained still. He was about to demand answers when Sarah beat him to it. She'd climbed out of the car and crouched down next to Jordan, hand on his back.

"Hey, wait. Where's Nicole?" she asked.

Blaine turned around, eager to hear this answer. He was getting an idea of what happened, because Kurt would never run off without a good reason.

Jordan suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Um, we were running," he began, but stopped. Blaine crossed him arms and glared, Jordan winced but continued. "The clown things kept following us. And Nicole tripped and your friend stopped but the clowns were like almost there, so…"

"You left them." Blaine stared at him with a face of disgust. "Your girlfriend fell, and you left her there. And my best friend stayed with her and they're both caught."

Sarah punched his arm. "Asshole!" She continued hitting him. "You! Are! The! Worst! Boyfriend! Ever!"

Jordan's hands flew up to defend himself. "Ow! Stop! It wasn't my fault! They were dead anyway!"

Blaine reached down and yanked the boy up, dragging his face close. "They aren't dead." Blaine shoved him at the car. "Go home. I'm gonna go find them." He cocked his gun, took one last look at the ancient car, at Jordan's shamed face, at a worried Sarah, and an impassive Jon. Then he stalked into the forest back to the circus.

The pain was the first thing Kurt noticed. As he groaned and slowly came back into consciousness, Kurt felt his head pounding incessantly and a thick coppery taste in his mouth. He spat out the blood and tried to stand up, but Kurt realized his arms had been tied behind his back around a pole.

"Fuck…" Kurt muttered, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden, sharp pain in his head the movement brought. His face must be a brilliant shade of purple if it felt this bad already. The demon had one hell of a right hook.

Kurt opened his eyes again. One of Blaine's many lessons rose up in his mind. Always be aware of your surroundings, Kurt. Use them to your advantage. Let nothing take you by surprise. That hadn't worked out too well for him so far, and Kurt felt like kicking himself. This was entirely his own damn fault, and Kurt knew it. He also knew that he couldn't just rely on Blaine to save his ass; Kurt would have to pull his own weight here. He determinedly looked around, taking in his surroundings.

He was outside, tied to a pole. A large fire burned in front of him, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding tents. Near the fire, a weird altar stood. It had half melted black candles, a large silver chalice, a wicked-looking knife, and the corpse of a tabby cat. Kurt shivered.

"Hey," a small voice on his right said. Kurt twisted around. A small boy was bound the same way as he was, and Kurt could just see Nicole on his other side. The boy smiled nervously. Kurt recognized that blond hair though.

"You're Justin. Justin Delaney." Kurt blinked. The boy nodded, obviously confused as to how Kurt knew his name. "Nicole was handing out flyers. She alright?"

Justin glanced over at her. "She's still out. She was handing out flyers?"

"Mmmhmm." Kurt's legs were luckily unbound, and he twisted one under himself so his hands could reach his ankle.

"What are you doing?" Justin asked, staring at him.

"Looking…for…" Kurt grunted with effort as he stretched his fingers into his boot. He silently thanked his need to be healthy and all those damn yoga classes for the flexibility they blessed him with and he felt around for the—found it. Kurt relaxed his legs, feeling the metal file gratefully in his hand. "This." He grinned at Justin's confused expression. Kurt had no idea how long he had before someone came to check on him, so he immediately went to work at fraying the ropes. It was an awkward angle and Kurt felt his wrist begin cramping after a few minutes but he kept at it. Judging by Mr. Fluffy on the altar, he really did not want to be here when the demons came back.

"Brilliant," Justin gaped, hope in his eyes.

Though Kurt kept his movements precise and confident, cold beads of sweat popped out on his skin as the minutes ticked by. Without warning, a tall man in a beaten top hat strode into view with a flourish. Kurt immediately palmed the file and held his chin up proudly, hoping the man couldn't hear his heart pounding. He heard Justin whimper faintly. Thankfully, Nicole was still unconscious.

"You are a difficult man to find, Mr. Hummel." The man ignored Justin and Nicole and inspected Kurt unabashedly. He spoke with a slight Italian accent and looked to be in his late forties. He wore an old fashioned ringmaster outfit. Kurt had the feeling he was usually more polished, but now the man had dark circles under his eyes and his moustache was starting to escape the gel he'd put in.

"My apologies." Kurt managed to get out. "I was unaware my presence was being sought by so many." He shifted under the man's gaze. "Malvalgio, I presume?" The man carried himself with the air of someone important, so Kurt just took a wild guess. It appeared to be right.

"You're a smart man, Mr. Hummel." Malvagio stroked his goatee and studied him. "And before you attempt another exorcism, please note: I am not a demon so your words are useless." He smirked as Kurt's face clouded with rage.

He was human and worked with demons? "Traitor!" Kurt hissed, pulling at the unyielding ropes. "You're a human! How can you do that? Work for demons? They're liars and murderers!"

Malvagio shrugged. "They honestly aren't too different from most humans." He said absently, striding up to Kurt and crouching down so he was eye level. Kurt set his mouth in a thin, angry line. "I don't know why they want you, though." Malvagio mused, reaching out a hand and running it through Kurt's hair. Kurt shivered violently beneath it and jerked away. The man paused, but began stroking Kurt's cheek, which was almost worse. Kurt's stomach twisted and he concentrated on keeping the food down instead of the cool fingers on his face. "They promise me power. I do some things for them, the demons give me magic. It's a deal that's been going on for centuries."

"You don't look that old." Kurt bit out. He couldn't stop himself from trembling. Just as he was considering turning his head and biting Malvagio's fingers, consequences be damned, the hand grabbed his hair and bent his head back. Kurt let out a cry of pain and whimpered a little, his throat exposed to the world.

"They give me power, Kurt," the ringmaster whispered in Kurt's ear, yanking his hair so Kurt stopped struggling. "They make me a warlock. I just have to give them a few things here and there. Sacrifices…vessels…" Kurt slid his eyes to Justin, and wondered how many other kids had vanished over the years. "And now they want you. Imagine my delight when I saw you walking through my humble little attraction!" Malvagio chuckled to himself. "He's had demons tearing apart the US looking for Kurt Hummel and there he was, strolling through my tents with some no-name hunter." Blaine.

"Who's 'he'?" Kurt cut in. He took a shallow breath. "And what did you do to Blaine?"

Malvagio put a long, thin finger against Kurt's lips. "Shhh. You'll find out who He is soon enough. As for your curly haired friend," Kurt felt the blood drain from his face at Malvagio's unconcerned shrug. "We fed him to the lions." Something flickered in Malvagio's eyes.

Silence.

"You're lying." Kurt snapped. "You don't have any fucking idea where Blaine is, do you? And that scares you. And your stupid, demonic minions." Kurt felt the metal file bite into his hand and he forced his fist to unclench a little. He gasped in pain when his head was yanked back again.

"Keep talking little mouse," Malvalgio hissed. "The heartbreak will be all the more bitter when your knight in shining armor doesn't arrive in time for you two to ride off into the sunset." He released Kurt's hair and stood up, looking down with an expression of contempt. "You're going to die tonight. Just like them." He jerked his thumb at the other two prisoners. Nicole was just starting to stir and Kurt hoped she'd stay quiet. "Although their death will be quick and yours…" Malvagio drew in a deep breath. "Yours will be torture." Kurt said nothing.

A clown walked up and cleared its throat. The paint on its face was fading slightly and the costume was undeniably ancient. And its eyes were completely black.

"We're waiting for you," it said.

Kurt kept still while Malvagio sighed and stood up. The file felt huge in his hand and he prayed to everything there was that the warlock would not notice his clenched fists.

"Duty calls," Malvagio sighed heavily. "Don't go anywhere," he winked at Kurt.

Fuck you, Kurt thought silently. He settled for eyeing daggers at the man and that scary clown-demon. As soon as they turned their backs and left the tent, Kurt began sawing at his bonds again. He knew he had to be gone by the time they came back.

He wished Blaine was there.

Hiding behind yet another tent, Blaine listened for any sounds. Like a million times before, the night remained mostly silent. He peeked around the edge of the tents, glanced around, and crouch-ran to the next.

As soon as he found Kurt, Blaine was going to murder Jordan.

What kind of jackass abandons his own girlfriend? And lets guy he barely knew stay behind to help while he saves his own skin?

Blaine gritted his teeth. Ass. Hole.

He glanced around again and took a few steps out into the open.

Two clowns suddenly walked in front of him and Blaine scrambled into the shadows behind the popcorn stall before they saw him. Heart pounding in his ears, Blaine slowly calmed his breathing enough so he could hear their hurried and whispered conversation.

"…no idea what he's doing!"

"…be here soon…just have to…tied up, he won't escape…"

"Why does he want…just another human right?"

"Can't question…not our place…come on…"

What the hell? Blaine leaned as far out as he dared, straining for every word. Are they talking about Kurt? He took another step, then felt his heart leap into his throat as his foot landed on an empty popcorn bag. The crinkling paper sounded like a gunshot in the relative quiet behind the tents. The clowns stopped talking and looked around, but Blaine was already behind the stall, praying that they hadn't seen him. Please don't have seen me…

The clowns were silent, but Blaine resisted the urge to look around the corner of the stall. After a few tense minutes where Blaine was fairly certain aliens on Jupiter could have heart his heart beat, one of the clowns muttered something to the other. Blaine heard footsteps as the two began walking away.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Blaine waited until the footsteps were almost gone before he chanced a look around the corner of the stall. The clowns were nowhere to be seen. Calliope music began playing from the tent next to him and Blaine winced. There went his sense of hearing. He carefully crept out into the open, cocking his shotgun. His nerves were standing on end.

Swallowing his sudden fear, Blaine took another step forward but stopped at the sudden sharp pressure on his back.

"Drop the gun," a deep voice growled in his ear. It sounded like one of the clowns.

Fuck.

"Drop it," the voice repeated as the knife moved from the middle of his back to the pulse point on his neck. Blaine swallowed, mentally cursing himself for allowing himself to be snuck up on. The knife felt cool on his skin. Blaine briefly thought about whipping around, grabbing the knife, and shooting the clown in the face. The knife pressed harder, breaking the skin enough so that a bead of blood ran down his neck and into his shirt.

Blaine was in deep shit and he knew it.

The voice growled in his ear again. "You are expendable. We only have orders to keep the little pixie alive. So I suggest you start cooperating."

Kurt. Blaine couldn't help Kurt if he was dead, so Blaine let go of the gun and raised his hands in surrender. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to escape this situation. But he still didn't know what he was up against. Blaine took a quickly glance over his shoulder, and was immediately hit with the knife's hilt on his temple. Water watering in pain, Blain stumbled forward until a hand clamped on his shoulder and roughly steadied him.

"Eyes forward."

Blaine obeyed, feeling the knife press into his spine. What was he going to do now?

Shit.

Kurt had just finished sawing through the rope when a tall teenage boy with messy black hair and blue eyes burst into the clearing, shoving a smaller figure in front of him. His face looked familiar, though Kurt couldn't figure out why. A flash of dark curly hair made Kurt's stomach twist up. Sure enough, when the man was dragged up, hazel eyes met his own.

The teen smirked, eyes blackened. "The clowns brought us some vermin they found skulking around."

"Blaine!"

"Um, I came to rescue you?" Blaine smiled sheepishly, a cut on his neck bleeding lightly and his temple rapidly darkening. Blaine looked around, eyes widening at the sight of Justin and Nicole. The teen forced Blaine forward and to the ground again, tying him to Kurt's pole so he was back to back with Kurt. Kurt held his hands still and hoped the ropes wouldn't slip and give away that he was free. Dear universe, when I said I wanted Blaine here I did not mean like this…

Fuck. He needed a plan. How were they going to get out of this?

"You're an awful knight in shining armor," Kurt commented as the demon clown stood up.

He felt Blaine shrug. "I left my sword in the car. Sorry."

The demon laughed. "Enjoy it while you can. The boss'll be here soon and I wouldn't want to be you when he arrives." He winked at Kurt. "Those nightmares are just a taste of what's in store for you."

Kurt felt the blood drain from his face at those words.

Nicole was waking up. "Ugh…where am I?" she murmured.

Malvalgio strode into view. Blaine stiffened behind Kurt. The warlock caught sight of Blaine and frowned, but then recognition lit up his face. "Oh, this is Blaine? It has been a while hasn't it?" He patted Blaine's cheek and Kurt could feel the tension rolling off Blaine. He squeezed Blaine's hand, trying to calm him down. The very last thing wither of them needed was to give away that Kurt wasn't actually tied up anymore.

Blaine just glared.

"This is like poetic justice. Maybe I'll use you instead of the boy." Malvagio tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No, I think I'll make you watch as I use them in my spell. You set me back several weeks last time, you know? Think of this as punishment." He snickered.

"I'm going to kill you." Blaine's voice was deadly. Kurt had never heard Blaine so serious. He didn't doubt that Blaine was telling the truth.

Malvagio faltered at Blaine's tone but shook it off, snapping his fingers. "Sael!"

"Yes boss?" The teen stood at attention, jaw clenched tight. He glared at the warlock.

"Watch the prisoners while I go call our master."

The young teen-Sael-saluted sarcastically as the warlock walked off.

He turned and sighed, rolling his eyes at the warlock's back. Blaine stayed tense, squeezing Kurt's fingers. Sael paced the clearing, muttering to himself. Kurt kept his eyes on the demon, but carefully maneuvered his hidden file and began working on Blaine's bonds. Thankfully, Blaine got the idea and kept quiet. "Two hundred years stuck with these fools. Can you imagine?" Sael stopped pacing and looked at Kurt.

"Can't say I can." Kurt didn't stop sawing, but his movements were smaller.

"He's been having us look for you for ages, you know," Sael continued, wandering over to the altar and poking at various objects. "Won't tell us why, just showed us your picture and told us to find you."

"'Us'?" Blaine asked. Sael wandered out of Kurt's vision and Kurt stopped sawing. He saw Nicole was awake, and tried to hint with his eyes for her to keep quiet. She glanced at Justin, who nodded, and she mouthed okay. Sael began talking and Kurt froze, listening intently.

"Demons. All of them." A manic glint entered Sael's eyes. "Now is a very interesting time to be a creature of the night, Anderson."

"You know my name?"

Sael squatted next to Blaine. "Sweetie," he began, smiling, "Everybody knows your name. Or at least they know your father's. The great Michael Anderson." Malice tainted every word. Sael reached out a hand and patted Blaine's cheek condescendingly. "Many of us have lost family and friends to your father. There's a bidding war for who gets first crack at you after our master."

Sael smirked and stood up, walking around to Kurt. Kurt resumed sawing at Blaine's bonds. The ropes were almost cut through. As to what they were going to do when they were free…well. He's come back to that.

"So, little Kurty, have any good dreams lately?" Sael giggled.

"Shut the fuck up." Kurt's response was instantaneous. Even Nicole and Justin stared at him.

"Kurt, what's he talking about?"

Blaine, shut up! "Nothing." Kurt said aloud. Now was so not the time for a heart to heart, what the hell was Blaine doing? Kurt felt the last of the rope give way, but he didn't dare move yet.

Sael, meanwhile, looked like Christmas had come early. "You mean you haven't told him?" He laughed cruelly.

Kurt gritted his teeth as he sawed through the last rope. "Because it's no one's business but mine. They're just nightmares; everyone gets them sometimes."

"Ohhh, but not like these." Sael was suddenly next to Kurt, his blue eyes inches away and sparking with glee. "Your dreams are special, Kurty. They tell everything. The past, the future, Hell…" Justin got a faraway look in his eyes. "They have a purpose."

"They aren't real!" Kurt snapped. They couldn't be real. Couldn't.

"Oh, but they are. What do you dream of? Death? Decay? Or something else? Fire? Blood? Screams? Maybe you dream of Blaine here, all stretched out and vulnerable and dying from a thousand cuts—"

"SHUT UP!" Kurt roared, stabbing the file deep into Sael's arm. He didn't hesitate for a second, leaping up and tackling the demon and punching every inch of his body he could reach. The demon snarled and tried to throw Kurt off, but Kurt straddled his chest and held on tight.

"Kurt! Stop it!" Kurt could hear Blaine yelling, but fuck that. This little piece of shit was going down. He knew demons were strong and that it was only a matter of time before Sael would recover from being attacked by a supposedly bound hunter, but dammit, he was going to get in a few good licks before then.

With a deep growl, Sael's eyes turned black. Kurt felt something tug around his midsection and the next second he had been flung into the altar. His back hit the table with a loud crack, and he fell on his knees, panting heavily. He heard Nicole screaming and Justin crying, but Kurt shook it off. Shakily he stood, ignoring the pain in favor of glaring at Sael. He saw Blaine drop to the floor behind Sael and begin drawing something in the ground with...something. Blaine glanced up and met Kurt's eyes for a second and thank God they understood each other so well.

Blaine wanted Kurt to keep Sael distracted. Piece of cake.

"Nice shiner you got there," Kurt smirked. The entire lift side of Sael's face was already swelling and turning a deep purple. Sael glowered at Kurt.

"Fucking little pixie." He growled, clenching his fists. "If the boss didn't want you alive, I'd have killed you the second I saw you."

Blaine was still carving the ground up. Kurt kept his eyes on Sael. "I'd like to see you try."

Sael laughed out loud. "I like you! So…spunky. You know I could take you with one arm behind my back right? Or no arms. I don't even need to lay a finger on you." He lifted a hand. "I am a demon, after all." The hand clenched, and Kurt gasped in pain as he felt an enormous pressure surround his torso. His ribs groaned in protest and Kurt tried to suck in air but his lungs had no space to inflate. He fell to his knees, taking short, harsh breaths and squeezing his eyes against the unbelievable pain.

"B—Blaine!" Kurt gasped out, crying out as his chest contracted even tighter. Dark spots began dancing at the edge of his vision and he heard Sael laughing. Just before he thought he was going to pass out, the pressure lifted, and Kurt fell forward, greedily sucking in oxygen and coughing violently. A hand massaged his back, then helped him to his feet.

"You alright?" Blaine asked worriedly.

"Fine," Kurt coughed again, but straightened up. Sael had his arms crossed, glowering at Blaine with absolute hatred. "What…?"

Blaine grinned. "Devil's trap!" He said proudly. Kurt looked back at Sael. He was standing on top of a crudely drawn circle with a pentagram a few other weird symbols etched around the sides. Sael looked ready to rip Blaine apart. "Demons can't escape. It'll also bind most of their powers."

Kurt nodded, rubbing at his chest. Devil's trap. He had to remember that.

"Who's looking for Kurt?" Blaine suddenly barked out. Justin flinched but stayed silent. "Why him? What are the dreams?" But Sael simply smirked. "Listen to me, you bastard—"

"Blaine!" Kurt put a hand on Blaine's arm. "Look, we don't have time to interrogate him. We don't have holy water; we have nothing to bargain with." Blaine still glared at the demon, but stopped yelling. Kurt sighed, but looked over at Sael. Beneath the cold eyes, Kurt thought he saw a hint of something else. And he remembered where he'd seen his face "Hey, Blaine? Sael's possessed. He's still a kid." Kurt looked at Blaine. "There are people looking for him." People who bothered to put up missing persons flyers in ever gas station on the drive to this town.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, he is."

"We should free him." Kurt met Blaine's look evenly. "At least one good thing can come out of all this." Blaine glanced back at Sael, eyes widening when he recognized the teen.

Sighing, Blaine took out a small notebook and flipped to an exorcism. "He's going to be in a lot of pain, you know." Blaine said. "I think you broke his nose."

Kurt blushed. "Yeah, I wasn't really thinking at that moment."

From inside the Trap, the demon suddenly snapped to attention. "What's that in your hand?" he asked suspiciously.

"Guess you're going to find out," Blaine grinned maliciously. "Be ready to run," he muttered to Kurt, flipped open the small book, and began reading the Latin words. Kurt ran to Justin, hands making quick work of the knots. They moved on to Nicole.

Sael screamed and twisted, tendrils of black smoke trailing out of his nose and mouth. He roared wordless cries and the wind whipped around the clearing, nearly tearing the notebook from Blaine's hands. Sael panted heavily, glaring at Kurt and Blaine. "I will crawl out of hell and destroy both of you with my bare hands." Sael's voice was deep and dark. A few screams, later, black smoke erupted from Sael's body's mouth before bursting into flames and fading. Sael collapsed on the ground, crying softly.

Kurt rushed forward, cradling the boy and coaxing him to his feet. "Kid? Hey, can you hear me?" The boy nodded, his eyes wide and terrified. He cried out in pain when Kurt felt his face. "Shit. I'm sorry I hit you so hard, I didn't think…" Kurt looked at Blaine helplessly, already tearing a strip off the boy's shirt and binding his bleeding arm.

"We can worry about his face and arm later. Right now, we need to move." Blaine supported Nicole, arm around her waist. "The demons had to have heard that. Go!" Blaine half-ran, half-dragged Nicole with him until Justin held up her other side.

Kurt hauled the teen to his feet and pulled him after Blaine. The boy followed with little resistance.

A few minutes later, they heard a roar of anger. Blaine just swallowed hard and led the other two to where he hid the Mustang in the nearby woods.

Malvagio bit his lip as he paced in the clearing. The extremely empty clearing, as his prisoners were gone. Vanished. Even one of his minions were gone—a teen he'd used purely for eye candy as he was not perfect enough to be used in the immortality spell. He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

He was dead. He knew it the second he walked inside the tent and saw the smashed altar. The boss did not suffer failures well. And now that Malvagio had called him all the way to Florida for nothing? Nothing could save him now. He turned to the demon next to him—Alecto, one of the clowns.

"How long until he arrives?"

"A few minutes."

Malvagio felt tears prick at his eyes. Odd. He had no idea he could still cry.

He wondered if his death would be quick or drawn out and painful. He hoped quick.

His head snapped up at the voices outside. He could feel his face paling. Could he run? His eyes darted to the trees.

"I wouldn't think about it." Alecto said sternly. "You'll only make it worse."

"Like you aren't dead too." Malvagio snapped, pacing again. "He won't let any of us leave here alive and you know it."

"This is your fault. I am merely your follower." Alecto smirked. "I'm going to get another chance."

"Like hell." Malvagio muttered.

The bushes shook and a tall, young man walked in. He had auburn brown hair teased up in a slight spike in the front and piercing green eyes. He was skinny, yet had an air of intense power. Malvagio shivered.

"What's this, Malvagio?" The man's voice was light and musical, as if about to laugh. "I thought you had a present for me? A certain Mr. Hummel with a side of Anderson?"

"Sir," Malvagio swallowed hard. "Um, Hummel escaped, sir." He squeezed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable blow up. Instead, the man giggled before dissolving into full-blown laughter.

Malvagio chanced a look at Alecto, who appeared to be just as confused as he was.

"I can see that." The man smiled. "You know what this means, right?"

Mouth suddenly dry, Malvagio swallowed hard. "We try again?" he asked hoarsely.

The man sighed. "Once again, Malvagio, you prove yourself to as smart as a particularly dim slug." His tone suddenly turned hard. "You fucked up and set my plans back. I do not enjoy my plans being set back." Malvagio let out a small whimper.

"P-p-please, Sebastian, please give me another chance, I-I-I can do better His voice faded at the look on his master's face.

"You don't deserve another chance." Sebastian said coldly. He raised his arm and Malvagio felt terror wash over him as his master's eyes turned pure white.

"Good bye, Malvagio."

The teenager's name was Owen Kenney and he was seventeen years old and from Clearwater, Florida. After he told them that basic information, he shut up and refused to leave Kurt's side. Once in the Mustang, Blaine drove with Nicole sitting shotgun and the rest of the boys in the backseat. Seeing as Blaine was technically a wanted man, they decided it would be easiest to just go back to Nicole's house and leave them there while Kurt and Blaine went back to the carnival to finish business.

It was a lousy plan, but Blaine couldn't think of anything better.

"I'm so sorry I punched you like that. And stabbed you." Kurt said, breaking the silence.

Owen shrugged. "It's alright. I said some awful things to you."

Kurt still looked sick, but didn't say anything.

"I was awake for some of it, you know," Owen suddenly said. "I could see everything going on, could hear everything. But I couldn't control my own body. It's the worst feeling in the world, being helpless in your own body." A tear slipped from his eyes. "I wanted to die."

Blaine inhaled sharply. "It's over now," he said. "You'll make it past this." Nicole glanced in the rearview mirror, but kept quiet. She was still adjusting to the fact that demons were real and that her boyfriend (ex now, probably) was a selfish ass. She murmured directions to her house and Blaine followed them without a word.

Owen shrugged at sat up as they neared the house. Everyone got out of the car, Nicole with her arm around Justin and Kurt still awkwardly holding Owen's hand with Blaine at his side. They paused, looking at each other.

"Thank you," Nicole said. She released Justin and threw her arms around Blaine, then Kurt. "Thanks for not leaving me and saving Justin." She cried as Kurt patted her back. "I can't imagine having to deal with this every day, but thank you."

"it's our job," Blaine put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "It's what we do."

Nicole pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Still…thank you." She grabbed Justin into another hug. Owen turned to Kurt, a worried expression on his face.

"The demons talked about you a lot. They had orders to find you and keep you alive, but none of them knew why. Only that it had something to do with your mom." He hesitated. "They were really afraid of this one demon. He's name's Sebastian. He sounds like an awful creature. Just…be careful, alright?"

Kurt nodded somberly, feeling cold inside. Sebastian. It wasn't a new name to him, but Blaine frowned. He jumped in surprised when Owen suddenly leaned forward and hugged him. He returned it after an awkward minute.

"He has plans for you, Kurt. Don't get involved." Owen muttered into Kurt's jacket. He pulled away and eyed Blaine. Holding out his hand, Owen smiled when Blaine briefly shook it. "You're a part of this too. Help him. And thank you. Thank you both." With a nod, Owen turned away and walked to the door, waiting for the others.

Kurt watched him go, raising a hand at Nicole and Justin before climbing back in the car. Blaine followed soon after, and they backed out of the driveway. As they left the neighborhood, Kurt watched the sky slowly lighten. He'd have to talk about his dreams. Blaine wouldn't let him off the hook this time.

Kurt wasn't sure it was a bad thing though.

They saw the flashing lights and sirens before they reached circus and make an unspoken agreement to keep driving. Three towns over, Blaine stopped at a motel and paid for a room. They were barely inside before Blaine had the news on. Kurt had an idea of what happened at went into the bathrrom, deciding to brush his teeth before dealing with it.

When he came out, Blaine was sitting on the bed, the news still on. A pretty, blond reporter looked into the camera and talk about a gas explosion and arson. Kurt sat next to Blaine, but didn't look over.

"Everyone is dead." Blaine said as the scene changed to a row of body bags. Kurt felt sick. "I think their boss was upset when they found out you were gone." Kurt didn't reply, but kept watching the screen. The camera switched to an aerial shot and Kurt scrambled back on the bed so that his back was against the pillows by the headboard and drew his knees up to his chest, hands covering his mouth and eyes wide.

Next to the decimated circus, the fire had spread into the fields. But the pattern wasn't random.

YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER

SEE YOU IN YOUR DREAMS

The threat made Kurt's blood run cold. He could never escape, could he?

"Kurt, we need to talk about your nightmares."

"No, we don't." Kurt whispered, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes.

"Kurt…" Blaine moved to sit in front of him.

"No!" The word flew out of Kurt's mouth instantly and Blaine flinched under his glare. "I don't want to talk about them. They're just nightmares, they're stupid and they'll go away." His voice broke on the last sentence and he buried his head in his knees.

Blaine sighed, and the sound hurt Kurt. He felt Blaine pry his hands from his legs, holding them tightly. "They aren't going to go away. We—you—can't ignore them. I want to help you and keep you safe and I think your dreams might help me do that. That thing is trying to hunt you down. It's powerful, strong, and ruthless. It also has a network of demons to do recon for it. We have a fifty-year-old Mustang, a twenty-year-old hacker, and maybe five other hunters we can trust. Look, Kurt," Blaine paused and bit his lip, trying to figure out how to word the next part. Kurt lifted his head and watched Blaine with a careful expression. "I want to help you. I want these nightmares to stop too. You haven't slept in like two weeks and I've noticed but you said you'd tell me about when you were ready. And I wish I didn't have to push, trust me. But we have literally nothing and I just want to help you. You know what this thing is. And I think you know at least part of the reason why. Please, Kurt? I just want to help."

Why couldn't Blaine leave him alone?

Why did the damn boy have to push at everything?

Flashes of his last nightmare flashed across Kurt's vision, but he caught Blaine's worried hazel eyes. Huge and sad and guilty. Why would he feel guilty? The dreams weren't his fault. And then Kurt felt like smacking himself when he realized what an idiot he was.

He had to tell Blaine. If only to stop him from thinking the dreams were from hunting. From him.

"They started before I met you." Kurt finally said. He took a deep breath before raising his eyes to Blaine's shocked ones. "So it wasn't your fault; don't think that. I…" Kurt closed his eyes and fought back a sob.

This shit was just so unfair.

Blaine moved as if to sit next to him, but Kurt stopped him. "Wait. I just…need a moment."

You can do this. Hell, maybe Blaine actually can help.

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hands, grounding himself. "His name is Sebastian." Kurt shivered at the name. "I didn't think he was real until now, but he must be, right?" He continued before Blaine could comment. "He's a demon. He's, um, different from other ones. His eyes go white when he's pissed or feeling really happy and powerful. He's usually in my dreams."

He fell silent for a long moment, looking away from Blaine. Talking about Sebastian felt like he was making him real. Like if he didn't think about Sebastian, the demon wouldn't exist. But the TV disproved that theory. The fiery letters danced on the screen.

Blaine caught on to his hesitance. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and let Kurt take his time. He wasn't disappointed.

"I'm afraid of him." Kurt admitted in a whisper. "The dreams are from him, I think. He's just…searching for any way to break me and I don't know why, just that he is, and Blaine he's winning." Kurt looked helplessly at Blaine. "I dreamed about my dad dying for weeks before it happened." He confessed; eyes downcast.

Blaine couldn't stay quiet at that. "What?"

Kurt nodded miserably, tears sliding down his cheeks. "It wasn't like, prophetic or anything. Just dreams. Most aren't even that clear. It's just…pain…"

The knife plunged into Kurt's stomach, and ripped up through his chest, tearing his organs into shreds as he sobbed and struggle to free himself from the heavy chains hooked through his hands and feet

"Nothing but me and pain and blood." Kurt wrapped his arms around his chest and curled in on himself. "Sometimes Sebastian is there." He whispered the demon's name, hating how it felt in his mouth.

"What does he do?" Blaine's voice was wrecked. Kurt looked up at Blaine sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes a mix of horrified, scared, pity.

Kurt looked away. "He hurts me." He didn't elaborate.

"Kurt…"

"He has plans for me." Kurt suddenly said.

"Plans?" Kurt saw Blaine tense.

"I don't know. That's what he says. Right before I wake up." Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. Tears were pricking at his eyes, but he felt a million times lighter than before. Carrying secrets was hard work, and Kurt wasn't used to having anyone to share the burden. It was nice.

That was all it took for Blaine to wrap his arms around Kurt and let him sob into his shoulder. "I can't believe you've been holding this in for so long."

Kurt let out a half sob-half laugh at the comment. "What was I supposed to do?" he mumbled into Blaine's shoulder.'Hey Blaine, I haven't slept in weeks and keep dreaming about the really hot guy that tortures me every night'? You'd have dumped my crazy ass." When Blaine pushed Kurt off enough to stare into his eyes, Kurt realized that Blaine had been serious.

"I wouldn't have left you. We're going to figure this out, alright? We're going to stop these dreams first." The intense hazel gaze had Kurt mesmerized. He barely remembered to nod. "Sam can help," Blaine suddenly stood up, phone already to his ear. "We can look in some books too…" Blaine trailed off as he begun muttering to himself about different books they could research in and hunters they could call. Kurt watched in amazement. How had he gotten so lucky?

"I don't deserve you," Kurt shook his head.

"You deserve everything." Blaine smiled softly.

'I have plans for you, Kurt. You're my favorite, did you know? We are going to be…fantastic.'