From Last Chapter: Kurt finds out that the reason Blaine's wings are changing color is because the more he's around Kurt, the darker they get.

It was the third night that Kurt had Blaine stay. His father was coming home in the morning. Having his father back gave Kurt a reason to send Blaine off; he wouldn't be alone anymore, and Blaine could be safe.

But as he stared at Blaine, whose eyes were shut despite the fact that he told Kurt he never slept, Kurt knew he didn't want his angel to go. Not that he'd be gone, but knowing that Blaine was still there, invisible, would literally drive him insane. So, basically, this situation was a fight between Kurt's sanity and Blaine's safety. It was a lose-lose situation, and the "right" choice was obvious. Yet, Kurt couldn't bring himself to decide upon it.

"What is it?" Blaine whispered. He opened his eyes, which made Kurt jump back. Smiling, Blaine reached forward to soothe the other boy, his hand on Kurt's stomach.

"Nothing. What – go to sleep," Kurt whispered, rolling from his back to face away from Blaine.

"Don't need to sleep. Don't need to eat. Not really sure I need to breath all the time, either," Blaine assured. "What's up? Why so restless?"

Kurt knew the basic answer for Blaine's question: he was worried about his angel. That answer, however, would lead Blaine to a simple, comforting, slightly condescending speech about how he was fine. That wasn't what Kurt wanted, so he decided to dig deeper, get to the real root of the situation.

"Tell me about Santana," Kurt said, rolling back over.

Blaine's brow furrowed, searching Kurt's face, then nodded slightly. If Brittany and Santana were a more advanced version of himself and Blaine, Kurt wanted to know the ins-and-outs of these Angel/Human relationships.

"How did you meet her?" Kurt continued.

Blaine thought for a second, tucking his bent arm under his head. "When you were kissing Brittany S. Pierce in your basement."

Kurt nearly choked on the air he inhaled. "Wait, what?"

Blaine laughed. "I've seen Santana a few times in Glee Club, but she mostly stayed invisible to other angels. Not everyone agreed with how she watched over Brittany."

"What do you mean? What has she done to Britt?"

"What we're doing; we let the people we guard see us. Not everyone's accepting of that."

"And you too? People disapprove of us now?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't care. I only let Santana see me most days anymore. I get the occasional snippy comment from Rachel's angel, but it's nothing I can't handle. They're just scared, which is understandable. I used to be so scared of this." Blaine motioned between them.

"And you're not anymore?" Kurt whispered, holding his breath with a flutter in his chest. Please say no, was all Kurt could think.

"Nope," Blaine affirmed cheerfully. "Anyway, back to the story, the four of us were in your basement bedroom for a while, if you can remember."

Kurt felt a blush creep up his neck. "Yeah."

"Santana didn't interact with the other angels, so it started off really awkward. She kept muttering rude comments about you, and-"

"Like what?" Kurt interrupted.

Blaine pursed his lips then said, "I think her exact words were, 'This kid is gayer than Christmas time in the North Pole,' which I'm still not sure if the statement was meant for me or Brittany."

"You defended me, right?"

Blaine brushed his hand against Kurt's arm. "Yes, Kurt. I told her you were confused, which she replied, 'You're confused when deciding if you use shampoo or conditioner first. No, my friend, he is hiding his flaming colors under all that flannel.'"

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "Not really seeing why you're friends with her, Blaine. Not really seeing how she's an angel either."

"A fight I have with myself every time we're together," Blaine joked. "But we talked. I asked her about the first time she showed herself to Brittany, and then told her our story. Apparently, Brittany's cat Lady Tubbington – no relation – died, drug overdose. Shame. And Brittany cried for weeks, stopped being her happy, carefree self."

"When did this happen? I don't remember this."

"They were six," Blaine answered, really thinking about the age. "You didn't meet Brittany until first grade."

"So, they've been doing this for over ten years."

"Longer than us."

"And nothing's happened?"

Blaine shook his head. "Just her wings changing colors. I think that marks an angel, so other angels see and fear what's happening to them, but no harm is actually done."

"Because you know what you're doing?"

"Most of the time. Our wings changing colors is a myth that has been proven true. There are plenty more that haven't though," Blaine added. "Our death flashes. Angels disappearing. Breaking the bonds to our humans. Getting our wings."

Kurt stared wide-eyed at Blaine, looking and feeling absolutely stupid. "All of those things: I need you to elaborate."

"Do you think you can handle all of this in one night?"

"Yes, absolutely," Kurt said, springing up.

Blaine followed suit. "Well, you know about our wings changing colors when we make ourselves known, so I don't need to brief you on that. But you don't know about getting our wings."

"No, though I don't see the point when they're not constantly there."

"It's mostly a tool to identify other angels. It's also a sort of initiation. An angel gets their wings when they connect to the human they guard. Santana got her wings when she was thirteen. When Santana was a human, she died when she was thirteen."

"When Santana was human? Does that mean...were you a human once before?" Kurt asked, mouth hanging open.

"Sure. And you were probably an angel in another life – no, stop, Kurt. I'm not trying to scare you. It's the truth though. As angels, we get flashes of our deaths. It's only for a few seconds, but Santana said it's vivid. She remembers fire engulfing herself and her family. They were yelling back and forth in Spanish, so Santana thinks it was in Latin America – years and years ago."

"I wonder how her and Britt knew each other," Kurt said softly. "If they did in that past life."

Blaine shrugged. "So, she was getting this flash of her death, basically experiencing it again. According to what Brittany said, she was going in and out of focus. Brittany reached for her, grasping air, grasping her, until Santana was a crying mess in Brittany's arms. Brittany kept whispering, 'It's okay. You're okay,' and Santana cried, 'The fire. The smoke. My family. My home,' and she stared silently praying in Spanish."

"Have you...your death..."

"Not yet," Blaine said, shuddering. "Santana never expected it, so it's just going to happen, whether I'm prepared or not."

"And Santana got her wings like that?"

"Yeah, she realized her purpose is, in her words, 'to help Brittany get from her own magical world back to ours.' They really love each other, you know."

"Wait, you told me angels don't love, can't love," Kurt said.

Blaine laughed, "Not what I meant. They aren't in love."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled, nodding. "What about the other stuff: the disappearances and bonds?"

"Those aren't too elaborate. Sometimes angels just disappear. But we don't know to where and they never come back. And it's not even to do with their humans dying – it just happens. Which is strange because angels can't break the bond they have with their humans – it's like literally impossible. There's this pull that drags you to us, and it's painful to deny it. That's why I'm always around."

Kurt jumped against the springs of the bed. "That's why you can't go see the world!" he exclaims.

Blaine nods, smiling shyly. "And that's everything about Santana. Does that clear up all of your concerns?"

"Yes," Kurt said, taking Blaine by the arm and pulling the pair down, side-by-side onto the pillows. "Thank you."

"Will you be able to sleep now?" Blaine asked.

"I can try," Kurt said, pulling at the covers. "Did you want to get under?"

"I can't," Blaine chuckled, and when Kurt picked up the blankets further and they passed through Blaine's body, he continued, "See?"

"That is so weird," Kurt muttered. "You're not really here, but I know you are because you're solid. At least to me."

"Yeah, you I can feel, everything else I cannot," Blaine said, grasping Kurt's hand.

Kurt rubbed his thumb across Blaine's fingers, feeling the softness of his skin, the warmth of his hand. Kurt felt the light breath of Blaine across his face. Solid.

"You can't touch anything else?" Kurt questioned, gripping Blaine's hand tighter.

"I don't really have the need to, but with you, I don't have to think about it – it just happens."

"And you can feel this?" Kurt said, brushing down Blaine's arm, feeling how his fingers catch the soft little hairs scattered across his arm.

"I can," he murmured, letting Kurt continue making patterns into the skin of his forearm. "And as interesting as this is for you, it's even crazier for me. You're the only thing I've ever touched."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? You're warm and soft. It's nice."

Kurt bit down on his lip, staring into Blaine's eyes, catching a glance at a very unreadable expression.

"We-we should sleep," Kurt said, not letting go of Blaine's fingers.

"Y-yeah."

"Goodnight, Blaine."

"Night, Kurt."

Teaser for Next Chapter:

"Where are you taking me?" Blaine asked apprehensively, staring out his window at the line of browning trees.

"Almost there," Kurt deflected coyly, drawing out each letter, so that as the phrase ended, Kurt only had to turn once, passed the curtain of trees, and the outline of a tall, contorted structure stood in the distance.

"Please tell me we are not at an amusement park," Blaine groaned.