-Amherst, Colorado-

"Dude, great night! We'll see you Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah," Eric Mason closed his guitar case and slung it over his over with his bag. "As soon as I get out of my other job, I'll come over," he said, wrapping a thick scarf around his neck. Winters in Colorado sucked, and he still had a fifteen minute walk home from the bar. "Later!" He waved at his friends and stepped out in the cold.

A cold blast of air swept right through his coat and Eric shivered. "God, it's cold," he muttered. He breathed into his hands for a few seconds before setting off from The Water Hole, a small bar his band played at every other night. The street was dark with the moon hidden behind a layer of clouds, but Eric jammed his hands deep in his coat pockets walked purposefully anyway, his muffled footsteps echoing down the deserted street.

Amherst was a small enough town that he hardly worried about crime. Sure there were the few gas station holdups on the highway and that shooting in Dover ten miles south, but otherwise Amherst was safe.

So why were the hairs on the back of his neck standing up?

Eric paused for a second and looked around, trying to see through the shadows in the alleys. He only heard his own breathing, loud and heavy through his knit hat fitted snug over his ears.

Nothing moved, so Eric kept walking, though a great deal more uneasy than before. His steps quickened almost imperceptibly, his breath ghosting out into the cold air slightly faster.

The sudden clatter of a trashcan falling over caused Eric to jump and glance around in sudden fright. When his darting eyes caught a flash of movement in one of alleys, Eric bolted, feet pounding the pavement and guitar bouncing painfully across his back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted to himself. No way was he stopping for anything. He ran to his apartment complex and fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them into the snow before he could force the key into the lock and twist it open. He bypassed the elevator for the stairs and ran up the five flights to his apartment. Eric didn't slow down until his was inside his warm apartment and had the door shut behind him and locked. He stared at the bolted door, waiting for something—a knock, and noise, anything.

Long minutes passed before he could finally convince his body to relax. When the feeling of terror slowly left, shame and embarrassment took its place.

"Nice going, Eric," he muttered as he set the guitar and his bag down. He flicked on the lights and sighed. "You looked like an idiot out there, scared of your own fucking shadow. Good thing Azumi didn't see you."

He slipped his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack by the door. A blast of cool air washed over him and he shuddered, turning quickly. Eric frowned. He definitely did not remember opening that window above the couch. In a few seconds, he had the glass shut and after debating for a second, locked. Before moving from his kneeling position on the couch, though, Eric looked through the window at his darkened town. The night remained still, five floors below him.

Eric rubbed at his eyes. "Jesus, Eric, relax! Nothing's going on. Get some sleep."

With a deep sigh, he stood and turned around. And promptly felt his heart plummet.

Eric opened his mouth to scream, but was beaten by the sound of an ear-splitting shriek. He clamped his hands over his ears and stumbled back. What the fuck what the fuck

The scream rang in his ears until his neck exploded with pain.

-I-25, Wyoming-

"OHHHHHH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE Kurt sang at the top of his lungs, bouncing in his seat and dancing as best he could while belted to the car. He elbowed Blaine until he finally joined in. That smile was irresistible

"Ohh! Livin' on a prayer!
Take my hand,
We'll make it I swear,
Ohhh! Livin' on a prayer!"

They finished out the song, complete with air guitar and corny moves. Kurt collapsed against the seat, laughing, while Blaine reached out and turned the volume down before smiling at his boyfriend.

His boyfriend.

Blaine was definitely not used to that word rolling around his head. But one look at the brown-haired, blue-eyed angel giggling next to him, cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness, and Blaine was happy.

It was an unusual feeling. Blaine wasn't accustomed to it. He reached out and grabbed one of Kurt's hands, keeping one of his firmly on the wheel. The bright smile Kurt rewarded him with convinced him. Blaine could totally get used to this.

"You ok, Blaine? You look thoughtful."

Blaine smiled. "You're in a good mood," he chose to say.

Kurt's eyes glinted happily. "Well, why shouldn't I be?" He waved his hands dramatically. "We're on the road heading for a job, the weather is beautiful, I slept great last night—"

Images of tangled limbs and gasps and moans rose in Blaine's head. "Yeah, you did," Blaine smirked to himself.

"Pervert." Kurt laughed and smacked his shoulder. His expression turned serious. "I haven't had any nightmares since Britt and Artie. And I have you here. Life doesn't get much better."

Blaine tore his gaze from the road to glance over at Kurt. He nodded, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze. "I love you."

"Love you too," Kurt returned.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, basking in the sweet atmosphere. Blaine finally cleared his throat and turned back to the road. "So." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will his blush down. When Kurt stared at him like that, like he was the greatest thing in the world…it did things to Blaine. The honeymoon phase was really nice, Blaine decided. "Where're we headed again?"

Kurt frowned disapprovingly. "Blaine, you're driving."

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't really listening when you told me why…" Kurt had been putting on his tightest pair of jeans at the time, and Blaine thought he was pretty justified in being distracted.

"You're lucky I love you," Kurt said as he rolled his eyes. He leaned forward and dug out a thick file from the glove compartment. They'd gotten it from Mercedes, who had faxed it to them. The face of the motel desk assistant when he saw the crime scene photos and the strange drawings was absolutely priceless.

Blaine snickered at the memory. Kurt had just smiled serenely until the assistant thrust the file at them and ran into the back room.

He realized Kurt was talking and quickly focused on him.

"In Amherst, Colorado, Eric Mason was found drained of blood in his locked apartment yesterday." Kurt read out. "He was twenty-nine. Mercedes thinks it could be a vampire nest, but she's not sure. The bite marks are wrong." The photo showed a large bite on the side of the man's neck. It was much larger than a typical vampire bite and looked slightly mangled, as if the victim had struggled violently before dying.

"The blood draining is pretty typical of vampires, though," Blaine mused. "Did you talk to Tina?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I called her while you were in the shower this morning. She hasn't heard of any vampires heading towards Colorado." He paused. "I believe her," Kurt admitted.

While trusting vampires wasn't Blaine's first instinct, Blaine mostly trusted Tina. She had helped to save Kurt after all. Blaine sighed.

"Alright, we'll go with vampires at the moment. Start reading through my parents' journal though; they might have mentioned something else with a penchant for human blood." Blaine glanced at Kurt just in time for his boyfriend to make a face.

"Your dad has awful handwriting. Just so you know." Kurt leaned into the back and fished out the journal, treating Blaine to a glimpse of pale stomach. God, Kurt was too pretty for his own good. "I call radio control for the next hundred miles."

Blaine grinned. Like Kurt wasn't already wrapped around his finger. He just raised an eyebrow at Kurt when he turned the volume up and settled back against the seat, opening the book and poking Blaine's leg with his foot.

"Yeah?"

Kurt didn't answer right away, letting Elton John sing a few verses. "Thanks for sticking with me."

Blaine risked taking his eyes off the road to smile at Kurt. He fell back to old means of showing affection and grabbed Kurt's hand. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

So goodbye yellow brick road,
Where the dogs of society howl,
You can't plant me in your penthouse,
I'm going back to my plow

Eric Mason lived on the fifth floor of the apartment complex. The building was fairly old, but clean, something Kurt was infinitely grateful for. While he had somewhat gotten used to the dirtier aspect of the job, he still preferred to not walk around borderline condemned buildings most likely filled with asbestos. He shifted from foot to foot as the old landlady fumbled with the lock to the apartment, Blaine had offered to help, but she glared at the hunter when he moved closer.

"I may be old, but I'm far from helpless!" she had snapped.

Blaine had backed away, hands up in surrender and a shocked look on his face.

With a grunt, the door finally popped open, and they ducked under the crime scene tape and walked inside.

"Well, here you are, Agents." The woman shuffled inside.

Kurt had to bite back a gag at the sight. Blood covered a huge portion of the carpet, with splashes on the couch and the walls. Thankfully, the smell was minimal. The rest of the apartment was small and a typical bachelor's pad, all minimal furniture and cramped rooms. Kurt pulled the file out from inside his coat and stepped carefully to get a closer look at the stain. By unspoken agreement, Blaine would question the landlady while Kurt started to check out the apartment.

"Mrs. Byerly, I would like to ask you a few questions if that's alright." Blaine took out a notebook and flashed his friendliest smile. Kurt smiled to himself. He had no idea how Blaine could make himself seem so trustworthy with just a glance. But this landlady looked pretty suspicious already. Hopefully Blaine wouldn't fuck this up.

Sure enough, the old lady scoffed and crossed her arms. "The police already asked me questions. Go talk to them."

"Ma'am," Blaine began patiently. "My partner and I are from the FBI. We have to do our own investigation and I understand how annoying and time-consuming this is, but sometimes the more you repeat the story, the more you'll remember. Or you might remember things differently. By telling the story over and over, we can get a better understanding of what actually happened that night." He waited until Mrs. Byerly nodded to continue. "How long had you known the victim?"

Kurt surreptitiously slipped out the old EMF reader while he listened to her responses. It remained stubbornly silent as he waved it over the bloodstain and the rest of the room. So probably not a ghost.

"I told the police before; Eric was a good tenant." The landlady shrugged. "Paid his rent on time; never had any wild parties. He worked as an accountant for a law firm over on Bristol during the day. At night, he'd go to a bar and play in some band. He usually got in late."

Blaine wrote the information down. "Do you know what bar he played at?"

The woman frowned. "Some hipster place. The Water Hole, I think it's called." She shivered. "I found him when one of his coworkers called me. He hadn't gone in to work that morning and they were worried. He didn't answer the door when I knocked and it smelled funny so I let myself in. And there he was." She waved her arm at the bloodstain, looking faintly queasy. "I'd, um…" She looked hesitant, but Mrs. Byerly continued. "The night he died, I thought I heard a scream. Only one and it was high pitched. I thought I must have been hearing things, but…" She shivered "It's going to haunt me forever."

By the couch, Kurt paused, thinking. Something was off about the room. He couldn't figure it out. His gaze fell upon the window. The curtains were open and the glass shut tight. Kurt worried his lip between his teeth and took out a photo from the file. It was taken from the doorway, facing the window with the body lying prone in front of the couch. Oh.

He turned to Blaine and Mrs. Byerly. "Did you open the window?"

"What?" Even Blaine looked confused.

Kurt pointed to the glass. "When you found Mr. Mason. Did you open the window before you called the police?"

She shook her head. "No, it was open when I found him. I remember thinking it was odd, you know?" Mrs. Byerly glanced between Kurt and Blaine. "Winters in Colorado are cold. It got down into the teens the night Eric passed away. No one leaves their windows open. After the police left, I shut it to save on heating this place."

Kurt nodded to himself as he walked closer. The window looked pretty ordinary and the view was gorgeous. The whole city was stretched before him. He imagined it at night: all lit up with hundreds of Christmas lights. Silly as it was, Kurt did love Christmastime.

Sighing, Kurt started to back away when he noticed it. A long strand of black hair twisted around the window lock. "Did Eric have a girlfriend?" he asked aloud as he transferred the hair into a small plastic baggie. He felt like was on CSI. If CSI investigated ghosts.

"Not that I know of," the landlady shrugged. "Look, you two are going to have to talk to his friends. I just collect his checks." She crossed her arms. "Now, are you two done yet? I have three possible renters coming in a few hours and I need to get the carpet replaced."

Knowing a dismissal when he saw one, Kurt caught Blaine's eye and nodded. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Byerly."

"If you think of anything else that might be important, please give us a call." Blaine handed her a business card and shook her hand. "Thanks for your time."

As she let the FBI agents out of the apartment, the old landlady wondered if the bright scarf the tall one wore was standard issue.

"I hate research." Kurt glared at the pile of newspapers in front of him and slouched back in his chair. Blaine sat across from him with his nose buried in a book. Kurt huffed when Blaine only "hmm"-ed in response. "Seriously, Blaine, I'm dying. This is boring as hell, and fucking useless!" His voice rose a little too loud for the small library.

"Shh!" A severe-looking woman behind the checkout desk shot Kurt a death glare.

Kurt smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he whispered, before turning back to a snickering Blaine. "Bitch," Kurt muttered under his breath.

A foot nudged his leg under the table. "Don't be so grumpy," Blaine said. "Research isn't useless. It's important to know what we're up against because—"

—Knowing is half the battle. Kurt finished with him. He cracked a smiled at Blaine's annoyance. "I know, you always say that. But it doesn't change the fact that reading about Little Mary Chandler running away with outlaw Bob "One-Eye" Bandit is mind-numbingly boring." Kurt tossed the paper down with a sigh. "I'm telling you Blaine, I think we can rule out ghosts. That building is only twenty years old and no one has died there. Ever. And vampires are a stretch because the bite is the wrong shape. The EMF reader didn't go off. The door was locked. All we have is hair." This was the part of the job Kurt hated. The part when they had no idea what the fuck was happening. It sucked, because the only way they'd get more clues would be if someone else died.

And Kurt hated people dying on his watch.

Blaine did too. He just showed it less.

Instead of reading, Kurt decided to study Blaine. He was much more interesting. The thick-framed glasses, the tiny scrunching around his eyes when he thought too hard, his curly hair. The way his t-shirt hugged his biceps. Blaine caught Kurt's eye and blushed.

"Stop watching me and read!"

With a loud groan, Kurt dragged a paper over to him. "You're no fun." Kurt muttered. "What time are we going to the bar?" he asked.

Blaine checked his watch. "Um, it's six now, but we can wait a little bit if you want."

Kurt leaped to his feet. "Hell no. I need a drink after all this." He barely let Blaine close the book before pushing the man out the door. "Come on, Belle , you can read later."

"'Belle'?"

Kurt kissed his cheek. "My little bookworm." Kurt teased

The instant they walked into the bar, Blaine wanted to leave.

"Zeppelin, Kurt! They're trying to cover Zeppelin!" Blaine moaned into Kurt's ear. "I want to cry. I just want to cry." He shot a dirty look at the band on the dirty stage where a skinny, ragged man with a long blonde ponytail crooned All My Love. Badly.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, he's pretty terrible. But come on, a few drinks and you won't even remember."

The guitar player hit a wrong note and Blaine winced. "It's gonna take more than a few drinks," he muttered under his breath as he followed Kurt to the bar, already taking out his ID.

The Water Hole was indeed a hipster bar, if such things could exist. The air felt heavy with the scent of burning weed and alcohol and Blaine saw more thick framed glasses and beanies in one place than ever before. The crowd was young, all around Blaine's age, and they stood talking quietly to each other or swaying to the music.

Which honestly could barely be called music. As the guitarist missed yet another dozen notes and seemed to be completely out of time with the drummer, Blaine fought back the urge to wrestle the instrument away and play the damn song himself. But Kurt would probably be pissed. Actually, Blaine wasn't entirely certain if Kurt would be more pissed about Blaine creasing his suit or punching the guy out.

He shook his head as they stood at the bar. Blaine flagged down one of the bartenders, a small, pretty Asian girl with long black hair pulled back into a braid and a green knitted scarf around her neck.

"Can I help you?"

Strangely enough, she kept her eyes trained on the countertop and her voice came out soft and hesitant. Aren't bartenders supposed to be friendly and stuff? Blaine shrugged. Maybe it was her first day or something.

"Uh yeah, can me and him have a beer? Whatever you have on tap." Blaine said. He flashed her his friendliest grin.

"Of course," the girl whispered, barely audible, though with a slight accent. As she walked away, she still didn't look up. Blaine raised his eye brow at Kurt.

"Someone's nervous," Kurt commented before leaning back against the bar. "I have no idea how she's wearing that scarf, though, it's really hot in here," He fanned himself dramatically. "Although that can only be said for the temperature." Blaine could see him judging the girl next to him. She had a long brown skirt and some kind of ugly furry vest on, topped with a straw hat. "There's a reason most of this went out of fashion," he muttered to Blaine.

Blaine stifled a laugh. The singer said something about losing of their own this week and how they all needed to pull together, but Blaine tuned him out. They'd be talking to him later. Instead, he focused on the girl, who was getting their drinks. Or trying to, at least.

The other bartender, taller man with a pretentious goatee and a permanent smirk was crowded close to the girl, whispering something in her ear. Blaine narrowed his eyes when he saw how nervous she became as he got closer. She finished the drinks and shook her head, dodging his arm when she turned back to Blaine. When the man lightly smacked her ass, the girl jumped with a muffled shriek but managed to hold on to the drinks with minimal spillage. He felt Kurt touch his arm. Kurt had seen the whole exchange too. The girl put their drinks in front of them, her hands shaking slightly.

"Here you go," she whispered timidly.

Blaine took his. "Is he giving you any trouble?" he asked lightly.

The girl glanced at the other end of the bar where the man was chatting with a couple. Her eyes suddenly flashed and Blaine though he saw something akin to hate and rage but in the next second they had turned watery and sad. It must have been the light.

"No. Nathan makes it a habit to hit on me once a night," she finally said. "So does Eddie." She glanced at the band and fell silent. Blaine looked over his shoulder just in time to see the sleazy guitar player wink at the girl. He turned back in disgust.

Pigs.

"What's your name?" Kurt sipped his drink, never taking an eye off of the girl.

She shifted under his unwavering gaze. "Um. A-Azumi. Azumi Tanako"

"That's pretty," Blaine smiled. Anything to put her at ease before he got around to their real reason for being here. "I'm Agent Kirke; this is Agent Ralphs." Blaine held up an FBI badge.

Her face became smooth. "You want to know about Eric, right?" she said with a resigned air.

"Right." Kurt said kindly. "Can you tell us about the night he died?"

Azumi shook her head. "I wasn't working that night. Nathan was, though." She hesitated. "Do the police have any leads?"

"No," Blaine said. "We're still looking in to it. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" She still looked apprehensive, but nodded. Perfect. If they were lucky, they'd have some idea of what they were dealing with before the night ended.

Kurt pulled out a notepad and smiled reassuringly.

When their set was finally over, Eddie Brand sighed deeply and began unplugging his guitar. It was almost three in the morning, and the only patrons left were the creepy old man at the bar and a passed out college kid on one of the pool tables. Azumi had left early, soon after those FBI guys.

They were a little unsettling, actually. Eddie still didn't know exactly how his friend had died—massive blood loss due to neck trauma, the police had said. It hadn't sounded like an accident. But the questions these guys asked were just bizarre. No one hated Ethan. Everything was normal. Nothing weird had happened in the past few days.

Bill Harad had gotten a bit quiet at that question, but Ethan figured that was because he and Ethan had been pretty close.

Eddie shrugged off the sudden chill that crept up his back. Yeah, Ethan was dead. But what better way to celebrate his bandmate's life than by banging his crush? Pity Azumi was gone already. He was hoping to move in on that. She was such a pretty little thing and so skittish. It was adorable. Eddie caught a glare from Nathan and waved cheekily. Nathan just scoffed and went back to wiping the glasses.

"You and Nathan really gotta drop this feud you got going on." Bill slapped a hand down on Eddie's shoulder. He wound the microphone cord up as he kept talking. "She's not into either of you. Just like she wasn't into Ethan."

Eddie snorted. "Ethan was a scumbag. And Nathan's got a huge beak. Least I'm good looking."

Their drummer, Alan, laughed uproariously, waking the college student.

"Nobody asked you, Alan!"

As they finished packing, Eddie continued to sulk. His life kind of sucked at the moment. And being picked on by his friends was not his idea of fun.

He needed to sleep.

The walk back to his apartment was cold and dark, and Eddie could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. He considered calling Bill just so he'd have some human contact, but quickly dismissed that thought.

He was being stupid. It was just a walk. He'd be fine. Eddie pulled his jacket tighter.

The apartment was only slightly warmer than outside and Eddie cursed as he kicked the door shut. He glanced around before spying the culprit: an open window in the living room. Frowning, Eddie shut the window, but stared at the glass for a few moments. He was pretty sure it had been shut that morning. He couldn't afford the heating as it was.

Eddie shook his head. It was way too late for this crap. Walking over the fridge, he pried a beer bottle from the meager components and opened it, allowing his thoughts to wander to that pretty Asian bartender. God, he just wanted her under him and screaming and begging and kissing hotly up his neck—

"Oh yeah," Eddie pressed his hand over his growing bulge and moaned. Azumi's face flooded his mind and Eddie closed his eyes and whimpered in pleasure. Tomorrow. He'd really put the moves on her. Nathan wouldn't take this one, no way. He rubbed harder, sighing at the friction. It had been way too long.

Time to move this to the bedroom. Eddie opened his eyes and jolted back. Azumi's face gazed at him. Eddie stared in shock.

"Well, aren't you a naughty boy?" Azumi smirked, her eyes glinting maliciously. She sauntered up to Eddie, displaying a confidence she'd never shown before. Her hips swiveled as she grabbed his face and kissed him, deep and dirty and hungrily. Eddie pulled away with a gasp.

"Shit!" He tried to catch his heaving breath. "That was fucking hot." Azumi teasingly brought a finger up to her mouth and licked slowly. Eddie stared in awe before a though occurred to him. "Wait. How the fuck did you get in here anyway?"

Azumi didn't answer though, just smiled seductively and began unwinding her trademark green scarf. Eddie stood stockstill as the material uncovered more skin, silently thanking every diety known to man for Azumi Tanako about to get naked in his kitchen. She let the scarf fall to the floor.

"Are those tattoos?" Eddie squinted at the small red characters winding around her neck. "That's cool, what do they mean?"

The smile hadn't moved and her silence was beginning to creep Eddie out. Then she closed her eyes and appeared to be counting while Eddie watched her.

He blinked. Surely that hadn't just…?

Eddie's mind froze. This could not be happening. Did Nathan spike his drink or something? Azumi was in his apartment and her head was lifting away from her body and just hovering there and she was smirking in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and oh god, her mouth. He gulped at the sight of all those sharp white teeth glistening with saliva as her mouth dropped open far wider than a normal human's could. Her face twisted and warped so it was a terrifying mask of what it used to be and her eyes glowed red.

Eddie screamed as the head sudden rushed forward and latched itself to his neck, the teeth tearing through the tender flesh. Blood poured down his chest and Eddie grabbed the thick, dark hair and tried to yank the thing off, but Azumi's head just growled and bit down harder. Stumbling backwards, Eddie collided with the counter and began fumbling for a weapon. His hand finally knocked into a cast iron pan and he grabbed it by the handle. Still almost blind with the pain from his neck, Eddie slammed the pan into the head, nearly crying with relief when the teeth released him and the thing fell to the floor.

His legs were weak from the blood loss, and Eddie pressed one hand to his neck, the other still brandishing the pan. Blood was pumping out of his neck with every breath and Eddie knew he needed to get help or he would die in his kitchen while staring at Azumi's disembodied head. He glanced quickly at the headless body still standing in the entryway, motionless.

His night was seriously fucked up.

The head was still on the floor, long black hair spread around it like a halo. Azumi's face was frozen mid-snarl, though the teeth had retreated. Eddie took a shaky step back, dropping the pan and taking out his phone with trembling fingers. His shirt was soaked by now and he squinted at the screen. Dark spots were appearing at the edge of his vision and suddenly, holding up the phone seemed like such an effort. It was so heavy.

It slipped through his hands and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Eddie barely heard it. His breath was too loud in his ears and he was rapidly losing his sight. The pain in his neck dulled to a steady throbbing. Dimly, Eddie saw Azumi's head rise off the floor. It turned and smiled at him.

Just before his vision went black, Eddie saw her bloodied teeth drop back down. He couldn't muster up the energy to scream.

The day dawned beautifully, and Kurt sat outside the police station with a cup of coffee and a thick scarf. It was really fucking cold. Hopefully Blaine could finish up inside quickly.

He sipped carefully as he replayed the frantic call he'd gotten early that morning.

'Agent Ralphs! You said to call if anything happened and I just got a call from the police—Eddie Brand's been found dead."

Bill Harad had been hysterical. He calmed down once Kurt promised to check it out. They were supposed to talk to him later today.

Blaine was still inside the station looking at the body. After Kurt's last experience, he opted to wait outside. He could handle the cold; but touching a liver or intestines? Ha. Blaine could deal with that on his own.

There were benefits when you had your boyfriend wrapped around your finger. Kurt smirked to himself.

Finally, Blaine came out and once he caught sight of Kurt on the bench, joined him. He sat down with a great sigh.

"Well, it was weird." Blaine dug out a digital camera and handed it to Kurt. He waited while Kurt flipped through the photos, trying to ignore how cute that intense look of concentration was on him. Kurt was too perfect. But he was getting distracted. "As you can see, the victim had two bite wounds to the neck, the first one ripped up and the second almost on top of the first. But they're too large for vampires. And the one is more mangled than a typical vampire bite would be. But it does match the first vic's." Blaine took out a photo of the first attack victim and handed it to Kurt.

Side by side, the marks were very similar. They were about an inch wider than a human or vampire's mouth. They were torn and ripped as if the victim struggled. And all of them were in the same position on the neck. Actually…

"It looks like it was right over the jugular vein." Kurt said aloud, squinting at the picture. He was pretty sure that was where it was. That Anatomy class was actually useful. Who knew.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Almost perfectly aligned too. Both vics had less than a few pints of blood left in their bodies but not nearly enough was found at the crime scene." Blaine hesitated. "The um…the police think something licked up some of the blood. They're a bit spooked."

Kurt shuddered. "Don't blame them," he muttered, suddenly not very thirsty.

Blaine sighed again and took the camera back. "That's not all." He pulled out a small plastic baggie and dropped it in Kurt's hand.

Blinking, Kurt lifted it up. "Is that…?"

"Yep." Blaine tapped the bag. "I found it in Eddie's neck. It's not a vampire's. Way too long and thick." The sharp tooth sat innocently at the bottom of the baggie as Kurt inspected it.

"Well, now we know it's a creature. Not a ghost." Kurt handed it back. Now they just needed to figure out what kind of creature it was. But at least they could avoid hunting the library for old newspapers again. That much dust could not be good for his skin, Kurt was positive.

"Thank God for small favors." Blaine dropped his head on Kurt's shoulder and yawned. "So tired. Let's just sleep forever."

"You're the one that kept us up all night." Kurt hid his smile by taking a sip of coffee.

Blaine hummed in agreement and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist. "So worth it," he mumbled into Kurt's neck.

Kurt dropped a quick kiss to the top of Blaine's head. When he looked up, a passing police officer shot them a disgusted look. Kurt fought down the quick spike of anger and settled for a fierce glare.

The amount of intolerance in the United States was seriously starting to piss him off.

But at least Blaine hadn't seen. With all the neglect from his parents, Blaine didn't need a random stranger's hate as well.

Kurt elbowed Blaine gently. "Come on, let's get the interviewing done. It's cold out here."

Blaine pouted but stood up. He pulled Kurt to his feet. "Let's just hope this case is nice and straightforward."

"Famous last words, Blaine."

Bill Harad was jumpy from the second he saw Kurt and Blaine. He keep shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his light stubble. Dark circles shone under his red-rimmed eyes and he clutched the cold beer bottle like a lifeline. Kurt sat on the other side of the table next to Blaine, exchanging glances. He was a completely different man than the slightly sad yet content vocalist they'd talked to just yesterday. Kurt watched the man constantly glance around, as if nervous something was going to pop out and eat him. Although with what happened to his buddies, Kurt really couldn't blame him.

He decided to cut to the chase.

"Mr. Harad?"

The singer started violently before rubbing his face with a groan. "I'm sorry, Agents, it's just…it's just been really hard you know?" Kurt was caught off-guard by the sudden tears in Bill's eyes, but Blaine had a better handle on the situation.

He laid a comforting hand on Bill's shoulder. "I know; it's tough to lose a buddy. Especially two so close together." Bill nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Kurt quickly masked his revulsion. Honestly, people had invented handkerchiefs for a reason.

Kurt kept an eye on the bar. He certainly wasn't missing the fleeting touches and whispers into Azumi's ears that Nathan kept up the whole time. Some men were such pigs. He scowled at his drink, briefly considering saying something. But Blaine seemed to be getting somewhere with Bill and stopping a murderous monster was a little more pressing than putting the fear of God into a scrawny bartender. There'd be time enough for that after this shit was over.

Blaine slowly managed to get Bill to calm down to the point that the band member began talking about anything and everything. Privately, Kurt thought the continuous shots of whiskey Blaine kept ordering helped. Bill started rattling off the bands innermost secrets. And for being young, they had a ton of secrets. Like how Ethan, Eddie and even that creepy bartender Nathan all had a thing for Azumi and none were subtle about it.

Then Bill mentioned one secret in particular.

"'Member—'member how you as'ed 'bout weird shit happening?" Bill slurred, well on his way to being drunk.

"Yeah." Blaine slurred slightly too. He'd explained it to Kurt once: if someone thinks you're drunk too, they'll be more likely to give truthful answers. At the time, Kurt had asked why Blaine didn't join the FBI and get paid for doing the same job that actual agents do. Blaine had rolled his eyes and muttered something about "bureaucracy bullshit."

Kurt took a deep draught of his own shot of whiskey. He didn't swallow, though Bill was too far gone to notice if Kurt was drinking or not.

This did help improve his acting skills, however.

"What kinda weird shit?" Kurt asked.

Bill finished his drink and stared into the ice cubes, swirling them around gently.'Fore—before Eric died, he tol' me somethin'." His eyes grew shiny with tears. "I din believe him—sounded too damn freaky, you know?" Bill leaned over the table and motioned for them to move closer. He lowered his voice. "Eric was seein' a floating head before he died."

Kurt blinked. A floating head? It didn't sound like anything he knew. But Blaine stiffened next to him.

"What did it look like?" Blaine looked at Bill with a frown.

"Eric said it was scary. Long black hair that moved on its own and huge sharp teeth and red eyes. Said it didn't look human either. Like a demon or some shit." Bill's face paled. Kurt wondered if he ought to get a bin or something because that color could not be healthy.

But Bill sudden looked at Kurt with a tortured face. "I should done somethin'. He was my friend and I ignored it. What if that thing got 'im? An' Ethan? What if I'm next?" he finished in a hoarse whisper. Truthfully, that was Kurt's worry too. But judging by Blaine's face, he knew what was going on. Kurt reached out and patted Bill's arm.

"Everything's going to be fine."

How could Blaine be so stupid? He cursed himself as he dragged Kurt back to the motel room. This one had a yellow and green color scheme and Kurt had almost refused to step foot in that "vomit-covered cesspool" but kisses tended to be persuasive.

He left Kurt on the bed and began rooting around their book bag for that red-covered anthology on monsters. Bill's description was familiar. He'd read about it before. Where the hell was that book?

"Blaine, honey? Mind telling me what's going on?" Kurt asked from the bed. He had his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"The monster. I know what it is." Blaine said shortly, still distracted. He took out a blue book, a tiny black one, and a green one with the cover held together by tape before he saw it. "Got it!" Blaine crowed.

The book was old and worn from the countless hours Blaine had read it. He took it carefully over to Kurt, sitting next to his boyfriend and opening the cover. He began flipping through it. Kurt had his chin over Blaine's shoulder and was waiting patiently for once.

"When I was little and I couldn't go on hunting trips, Dad would leave me here with all those books. So I read them. A lot." Blaine explained. Kurt nodded in understanding, and Blaine continued. "What Bill was describing was…" He found the right page. "A nukekubi."

Kurt studied the page. The top half was covered with a drawing of a floating head with a demonic face that was snarling at a terrified person that cowered on the ground. A headless human body stood at the edge of the picture. The bottom had a description that Blaine summarized.

"Nukekubi are demons from Japan. They need blood to live and enjoy terror. Some will shriek when they attack. They're rarely seen outside of Asia, so I don't know why there's one here. Anyway, these demons can detach their heads, and the heads are invincible. It's their bodies that are the weak point. Blaine pointed at the picture. "See, the Nukekubi can only be apart from the body when the sun is down. If sunrise comes and they aren't together, it'll die."

Kurt nodded slowly. "And I assume that they hide their body before going out to prey?"

Blaine grinned. "Very good, my little hunter." He laughed when Kurt shoved his shoulder lightly. "But yes. We need to figure out who the Nukekubi is. They can pass as human, so it could be anyone, but—"

But Kurt was already miles ahead of him.—But, two victims so close to each other imply that the Nukekubi knew them."

"Exactly."

Something on the page jumped out at Kurt. "Nukekubi have a line of red kanji that go around their neck?" he asked.

Blaine glanced at the book. "Yeah, guess so."

Kurt bit his lip. "So who do we know that wears scarves at inappropriate times and wouldn't mind killing the victims?"

Kurt met Blaine's eyes.

"Azumi."

It was almost one, and Nathan's shift was done. Sure he could have stayed longer, maybe even cop a feel with Azumi when it was only them two in the bar, but she seemed pretty jumpy all day. Plus those looks he kept catching from her when he touched her? Nathan shivered. He was a little scared for his balls.

No, the best thing to do was to give up for the night. They worked together again on Friday, and she wouldn't be able to resist his charm for long. Especially since his main completion was out of the picture.

Yeah, Eddie dying was sad, but he didn't deserve that perfect ass. That belonged to Nathan. Azumi just didn't know it yet.

Nathan smirked to himself as he bundled up for the cold. He could feel Azumi watching him, so he turned and winked at her.

"See you Friday, babe!" He called out and left, humming confidently to himself. Azumi was so his.

Azumi smiled tightly at his retreating back, eyes briefly glowing red.

Nathan locked his door and dropped his stuff next to the door. He blinked in the gloom, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkened apartment. The electricity bill was pretty high last month, so he opted to leave the lights off. Nathan was shrugging out of his coat when he heard a tapping at the window. Confused, he turned around, but the window was empty. Just a view of the building across the street from his.

A chill crept up his neck, but Nathan shook it off. He just drank too much at work and was a little freaked from the murders. Yeah, that was it.

He rubbed his eyes and shuffled to the kitchen sink, splashing some water on his face to wash away the grim from the bar.

He didn't hear the window latch opening or see the tendril of hair sneak back under the window frame.

Nathan dried his face off and sighed deeply. He was actually a little nervous to be alone. "Get a grip on yourself," he muttered to himself. He suddenly shivered. Shit, the heater must be out again.Not something he need. Nathan turned around with a groan and promptly dropped his towel. Then screamed.

The apartment door crashed open and Blaine dashed into the room, gun already drawn. Within seconds, he saw the bartender screaming his head off. And a floating head with long black hair.

"GET DOWN!" Blaine roared, leveling the gun. He fired as soon as the guy dropped to the floor. The bullet hit the back of Azumi's head and it fell to the tiles with a heavy klunk. Blaine kept the gun trained on the creature as he ran to the bartender's side. He roughly dragged the stunned man to a standing position.

Once across the room and sure that Nathan wasn't hurt, Blaine eyed the head. A pool of blood had formed around it and it remained motionless. "Guess the legends were wrong," Blaine mused aloud.

"What legends? What the fuck, man? The hell is that thing? Why does it look like Azumi?" Nathan's voice edged into hysterics and Blaine rolled his eyes.

"She's a nukekubi. A Japanese demon that is after your blood." Blaine glared. "Probably because you can't keep your dick in your pants." Nathan looked offended but Blaine ignored him. He glanced back at the head.

Wait.

Where was she?

"Shit." Blaine quietly cursed, pushing Nathan behind him and trying to see in the darkened apartment. Why hadn't he turned the lights on when he came in?

Nathan gripped Blaine's arm tightly, a steady stream of curses coming out of his mouth. Blaine tensed. There wasn't much to do but wait for the attack. Please let Kurt find the body…

A sudden ear-splitting shriek erupted on his right and Blaine fired instinctively. Azumi dodged the bullet, but growled deeply as her face morphed into the demon form. Nathan tugged Blaine's arm before turning and fleeing into the bedroom, Blaine right on his heels.

They slammed the door behind them and Nathan locked it. "There," he breathed, grinning at Blaine. A loud thunk hit the door.

Nathan paled. The door rattled again, but this time the frame groaned and they both fell against the door to hold it shut against the barrage of hits. Between the crashes, Blaine could hear growls of anger and rage.

"What the fuck!" Nathan was nearly sobbing at this point. Blaine ignored him but took out his phone. He nearly dropped it when a particularly hard hit startled him, but he kept a grip on it long enough to dial.

Pick up, Kurt, come on!

"Nathan, shut up for a goddamn second!" Blaine snapped at the crying mess next to him.

"Blaine?"

He let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. "Kurt? Kurt! I've got a bit of a problem here— ow!" The door shook violently and Blaine knocked his head against it. "Shit! Azumi's here, but she's pretty pissed off, any luck with the body yet?"

He could almost see Kurt biting his lip. "No, not yet. But she's definitely the monster. Her house is creepy, Blaine. There are jars of blood in the fridge."

"Look, just hurry ok? Find the body and burn it and call me. I don't think she's going to leave without getting a piece of Casanova over here," Blaine glared at Nathan, who just looked sheepish.

Kurt scoffed. "I'm trying, Blaine! I'm hanging up; it's hard to hold a phone, a flashlight and a gun at the same time. Just don't die, alright?"

Blaine laughed quietly. "I'll be fine. Love you."

"Love you too."

He hung up still basking in the glow of those words. Blaine doubted he'd ever get over hearing those words from Kurt's lips.

Blaine blinked. Something wasn't right.

The house was silent. Silent.

"The banging stopped," he whispered. Nathan stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Why would the banging stop? It took Blaine all of two seconds before it hit him.

Kurt.

Azumi Tanako's townhouse was across town and deep into the ghetto, wedged between an empty lot and an abandoned office building. Kurt had to double check the address from the bar, because surely no one actually lived there. Then again, "no one" did. It was a monster's lair.

Inside was even more run-down than the outside. Dust coated everything and the heavy scent of mothballs and rot hung in the air.

"Gross," Kurt muttered to himself.

He'd searched the upstairs and half of the first floor by the time Blaine called. When he hung up, Kurt forced himself to calm down. He'd be completely useless if he panicked every time Blaine was in danger, but hell. It was harder now that he had actually admitted what Blaine meant to him. But Blaine was counting on him, so Kurt pushed the terror back and kept searching for Azumi's body.

About ten minutes later, his phone began buzzing again, and Kurt raised an eyebrow at the caller ID. He'd just hung up, what could Blaine possibly—

He answered quickly.

"Oh my god, thank god! Kurt! Listen—"

Blaine rambled on, tripping over his words until Kurt finally got the gist of it.

"Wait, so Azumi's—"

The front door suddenly crashed open with a loud bang and Kurt jumped and dropped the phone. Shit shit shit. He decided the gun was slightly more important so he left the phone and leveled the weapon just in time for a mass of hair and eyes and teeth to rush at him, shrieking. Kurt screamed and fired. He kept his finger on the trigger until the barrel was empty. The head lay in a mass of blood and flesh on the floor and Kurt almost gagged, but then it started twitching and healing and Kurt bolted. The shrill screams rattled around his ears, making his skin erupt into goosebumps. God, that was creepy.

He ran to the kitchen and locked the door, thankful at the strange layout of the house. Kurt eyed the room for a weapon as the door started rattling. The counters were empty and the fridge only had a few glass jars full of blood, so the table would have to do. Kurt swiftly flipped it over and kicked one of the legs harshly. It snapped off fairly easily. Thank God for dry rot and aerobics classes.

The door was almost broken through, so Kurt opened the oven and then stood off to the side against the wall next to the door. He readied the bat like a baseball player and tried to calm his pounding heart. Blaine will be here soon, I just have to hold on…

The door burst through and the head rushed in with a scream. Kurt couldn't recognize Azumi under the twisted features. She stopped screaming and hovered, turning slightly in the air as she looked for Kurt.

Kurt didn't wait and slammed the table leg into the head, sending it hurtling into the open oven. He ran over and shut the door, ignoring the snarls and screams inside and turned the dial to 500 degrees. Somehow, the gas was still running and Kurt held the door shut while the thick stench of cooking flesh filled the room. After a few half-hearted thumps, the head fell to the oven floor.

The sound of yelling from the other room reached him. Blaine. Kurt stood shakily, eying the oven. But she remained silent, so Kurt left the kitchen. Maybe it was over.

Driving across the town late at night meant that Blaine was able to bend a few speed limits. Christ, he was stupid. How could he actually tell the monster exactly where his boyfriend was? Especially when said boyfriend was alone and looking for the one thing that could kill the bitch.

He'd flown out that apartment the instant he realized where Azumi had gone, leaving a confused and probably traumatized bartender. Then he'd called Kurt from the car.

That scream that came through the speakers sent Blaine's blood running cold. The phone was tossed to the side seat and Blaine tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He hoped he wasn't too late.

The Mustang skidded to a stop in front of the dilapidated house and Blaine barely remembered to lock it before he had his gun in hand and was flying up the steps before he stopped. The front door had been broken in. Blaine ignored the cold fear that settled in his stomach.

"Kurt?" he called out, hating how scared his voice sounded. "Kurt! Where are you?" He gingerly stepped over the shattered remains of the door, keeping his finger on the trigger. There were some noises coming from a room in the back and Blaine tensed up.

"Oh thank God!" A tall mass rushed at him and wound its arms around his waist. Blaine sighed in relief as he hugged Kurt back. Kurt pulled back and smacked Blaine's arm. "Jesus, Blaine! Took you long enough!"

Blaine winced and rubbed his arm. "Sorry. What happened?" Azumi wasn't anywhere to be seen. He suddenly caught a whiff of a strong stench and winced. "Ugh, and what's that smell?"

Kurt shrugged. "I trapped the head in the oven and turned it on."

Well then. Blaine stared at Kurt who frowned. "It worked! I think it's dead." Kurt said defensively.

"Where is it now?" Please don't say alone, please don't say alone…

Kurt pointed back in the direction he'd come from. "Back in the kitchen. In the oven. Blaine, wait! It's dead, it's He tried to grab Blaine's arm but Blaine dodged it and ran into the kitchen.

The oven was empty.

"Fuck!" Blaine felt like kicking something. Kurt was right behind him, but didn't say anything when he saw the open oven door. Instead, he quietly walked around Blaine shut the oven off.

They stood in the dirty kitchen. "The only place I haven't searched is the basement." Kurt watched Blaine nervously. "Blaine, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

Blaine shook his head. "Not your fault. I did the same thing, actually." He smiled weakly. "Come on, let's go find her." They picked their way across the debris-laden floor to the basement door. A rush of rancid air rushed out and Kurt coughed, face grimacing in disgust. A thin chain hung in front of them, so Blaine tugged on it experimentally. It clicked, but nothing else happened.

"No bulb, I guess," Blaine explained quietly. Kurt nodded and turned on the flashlight. He took the lead, with Blaine hovering behind. The stair creaked and groaned as the hunters inched downward.

Stepping off the stairs and onto the hard, damp ground, Blaine shivered. Kurt's breath was loud, and Blaine saw it condensing in the flashlight's thin beam. Slowly, Kurt trailed the light around the basement.

The basement was fairly open, though boxes were piles high next to the walls. Shelves lined another, with a few rusted tools remaining. Dust coated everything.

Blaine fumbled out his own flashlight. "Ok, we probably don't have a lot of time before Azumi realizes what's going on," Blaine said. Kurt nodded in agreement. "So, new plan: find her body, torch it, run like hell."

"That's not really a plan, Blaine, it's more of a 'guideline, Kurt glanced around.

"It's good enough!" Blaine snapped back. Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked ready to launch into an angry tirade but a low growling stop him. He paled in the weak light.

Cursing quietly under his breath, Blaine shined his flashlight around the basement quickly. A rustling sounded, but he couldn't tell where it came from. "Kurt," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" Kurt whispered.

"She knows where we are." He ignored Kurt's sharp intake of breath. "When she attacks, I'll distract her, but you have to find the body. Okay?"

He met Kurt's wide eyes.

"Kurt—"

He winced at the sudden glare Kurt shot at him. "Don't you dare die." Kurt reloaded his gun. "I can do it."

A scream echoed throughout the house, long and haunting.

"Well that's going to be in my dreams for a few weeks," Kurt remarked dryly.

"Yeah," Blaine bit his lip as he waited for Azumi to make a move. The tension was thick, and Kurt pressed closer, breathing nervously.

Blaine cried out when something slammed into his stomach, knocking him into the walls and crushing a couple boxes. Several of them shifted as he rolled on the ground and groaned. A coppery taste filled his mouth and Blaine spit out blood.

"Blaine!" Kurt yelled. A shot went off. Blaine stumbled to his feet and rubbed his aching head, taking in the scene in front of him.

Kurt stood glaring at Azumi, who was in her demon, bodiless form. She faced away from Blaine, looking at Kurt and hovering. Kurt pointed the gun at her, and blood dripped slowly from a wound in her temple.

"You." The voice was deep and furious. Kurt kept his gaze steely, but Blaine saw the slight tremor in his hand. "You shot me. And tried to cook me." Azumi laughed, deep and hateful.

"You tried to eat me. Fair's fair." Kurt shot back. He caught Blaine's eyes and shook his head slightly.

His message was clear. Seeing as Azumi was fixated on Kurt, Blaine would have to find her body. Hopefully before she either killed Kurt or himself. All in a day's work.

Blaine fell to his feet and felt around for the flashlight he'd dropped. Goddamn, it was really fucking dark. Kurt kept taunting Azumi, trying to buy Blaine some time.

"You know, I almost felt bad for you. I was going to have a word with that bartender before we left town."

"They deserved to die. Disgusting pigs." Azumi growled out.

Where the fuck was the damn body? Azumi was growling deeply now and the sound sent Blaine's nerves on end.

"Why are you even here?" Kurt snapped. "Aren't you a couple oceans away from where you're supposed to be?"

Blaine's foot kicked something and he grabbed for the plastic. "Finally," he muttered, turning the flashlight on.

Azumi attacked, but Kurt fired off another round and dodged her. "I came here for…opportunities." Large teeth gleamed in the dim light. Then Blaine saw it.

A heel.

A spikey black heel attached to a pale foot.

Behind one of the boxes he hit.

Azumi ranted at Kurt, saying something about how America was about to become a warzone, while Blaine moved the boxes out of the wave and uncovered the body. It was laid out on the floor, arms and legs straight. It still wore the bartending uniform, and Blaine fought back a gag at the sight of the smooth neck stump. Blaine dug out a small bottle of lighter fluid his dad made him carry at all times. He drizzled the liquid over the body, soaking the bartender uniform. He found a matchbook hidden deep in his pockets and tried to light it, nearly dropping the whole pack at the bloodcurdling screech from Azumi.

Blaine glanced up to see a fuming demonic head flying at him, and he redoubled his efforts to get that damn match lit. It refused to catch and Blaine kept swiping the head, muttering curses under his breath.

"Shit, shit, shit, come on!"

"BLAINE!" Blaine looked up to see Kurt tackle the head, slamming it into the floor. Azumi recovered quickly and tried to snap at Kurt, but he pinned her to the floor with his body, though she struggled mightily. Blaine could only watch the fight unfolding before his eyes. "Blaine! What the fuck are you waiting for?" Kurt screamed at him. "A fucking invitation? Torch that mother!"

Shit. Right. Blaine snapped out of it and finally got the match lit, dropping it onto the body. It went up cheerily, flames leaping high. Azumi wailed long and painfully as she fought Kurt's hold. She somehow managed to twist under Kurt's arms and bit his side through his coat, eliciting a scream.

Kurt struggled and clawed at Azumi's face. Blaine saw his face twisted in pain and he ran over. Barely thinking, he kicked the head in the face, forcing Azumi off with a surprised yelp. She rolled a few feet, but before she could launch a counterattack, Blaine grabbed one of the cardboard boxes and trapped her underneath it. He sat on it, praying the cardboard would hold her long enough. He jerked forward a few inches when she hit the side, but managed to stay upright.

A few feet away, Kurt dragged himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Blaine could see his beautiful coat was in tatters on the right side. Blood dripped down from his waist, and Kurt winced with every step. He powered through it and sat back-to-back with Blaine.

Muffled curses and violent promises came through the box, but the material held.

After a few minutes of battling with the monster, they heard a loud and pain-filled wail, then silence. The box stopped moving.

"Should we look?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine thought. Looking up, he realized he could see faint light from the basement windows. "Hey Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"It's dawn."

"So?"

"So," Blaine laughed a little. "She didn't reunite with the body. She's dead." He stood up and motioned Kurt to move. Kurt did so, though warily. Blaine peaked under the box, then lifted the whole thing. A pile of gray ashes remained.

Kurt laughed breathlessly. "Oh my God. Finally." He winced and clutched a hand to his side. "God, this hurts. And you're paying for a new coat." The sentence was directed with a glare. A deep stab of guilt struck Blaine.

Blaine just wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and tugged him close in the growing light.

"You're clingy today."

"I'm sorry." Blaine mumbled into Kurt's shoulder. "I let you get hurt. And ruined your coat." Blaine felt sick as he felt the sticky fabric. He was supposed to protect the ones he loved, but he still managed to fuck that up as well.

Kurt was having none of it.

"Blaine, stop it. Blaine!" He held Blaine out at arms' length and looked into his eyes. "Blaine. I chose this. We've been over this before; I know what I've gotten myself into. We just have to accept the fact that we're both going to screw up sometimes and move on. I'm fine. And it's just a coat."

Blaine cracked a small smile. "Never thought I'd hear you say that about a coat."

"There's a first time for everything." Kurt let his hands fall into Blaine. "Now can we please go back to the room and warm up before we freak out about the fact that America is going to be a battleground soon?"

"So cheery," Blaine laughed. He supported Kurt through the trip upstairs to the car, trying not to feel guilty at every wimper Kurt let out.

The sun was just fully over the horizon when Blaine pulled into the motel parking lot. Kurt dozed in the passenger seat and Blaine watched him sleep as he turned the engine off.

Kurt looked like an angel when he slept. The past several nights were good for him. He'd been able to sleep all the way through the night without any out of the ordinary dreams and Blaine could see the difference. Kurt didn't walk around with a dead expression on his face and he was back to teasing Blaine about pretty much anything. The sex probably helped too.

Smiling softly, Blaine brushed a lock of hair back from Kurt's forehead. He leaned over and, with a light kiss to the forehead, whispered into Kurt's ear. "Time to wake up, angel."

The way Kurt smiled at the nickname made Blaine's heart flutter. He stretched, groaning softly and sending a decent amount blood rushing southward. Blaine shifted discreetly, but couldn't resist grabbing Kurt's hand and stroking it with his thumb.

"'Angel,' huh?" Kurt tried to look annoyed, but Blaine could see the amusement in his eyes.

"To be honest, I've been calling you that since we met." Kurt blushed deeply. "Come on." Blaine leaned over and pecked Kurt's lips. "Let's go inside and get you fixed up."

He was about to pull away when Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's curls, pulling him back for a deeper kiss. Blaine responded eagerly. Just when Blaine began to wonder if they were going to forgo the beds after all, Kurt sat back, winked, and left the car.

Blaine groaned at the empty air. He had been kneeling on his seat to get better leverage, but now had to maneuver awkwardly in the cramped space to get his door open. Kurt waiting by the motel door with a coy smile and Blaine grinned to himself. Thank God they were barely out of their teens. As Blaine slipped the key into the lock and twisted it, Kurt attached his lips to Blaine's jaw and he moaned appreciatively. Kurt giggled as Blaine got the door open they stumbled into the room, trading kisses and touches. Until Kurt pulled back with a gasp.

"What? No, come back, why'd you stop?" Blaine whined, until he saw his boyfriend eyes were focused over his shoulder, looking mortified. Blaine turned. His stomach dropped.

"Dad?"