Present: September 21st, 2013

He was lying curled up on his side on the bed, his back turned to the door and the window. The soft wheezing and whistling of the wind outside was the only music fitting his current emotional state; meek for now, but brittle with a sense of foreboding.

He knew he should at least try to hate him. He knew he wasnt the person he fell in love with anymore. He knew he had to go back out there and find him, go against his very nature, and save the world once again. He was sure he would get there, too, but right now he felt he had the right to wallow in the emptiness inside of him until he started to actually feel the pain. Only then could he convert it into the anger he needed to win this battle. Because knowing and actually understanding, having comprehension seep through him, are two separate things.

Unfortunately, this was a sentiment not shared by the miniature Wyndam-Pryce currently knocking on his door, like he had every 10 minutes in an attempt to get him to start making plans.

"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, NICK!"

"Kurt, I would love to, and I understand what youre goi-"

The brunette yanked the door open, a dangerous glint the only thing giving his now-dull glasz eyes, currently an alarming shade of stormy dark gray, a splash of their usual vibrancy.

"You. Understand. Nothing. NOTHING!" His voice broke on the last word, and he was anticipating the sob he so desperately wanted to come bubbling up his throat. But it didnt. He didnt bother taking a deep breath before speaking again, because the last thing he wanted to be was calm. He needed to be riled up; needed that fire only rage can instill in him.

"Your honey is currently sitting on the couch downstairs, probably convincing my Dad to try some English fucking Breakfast tea with sugar and milk, while mine is out there causing all kinds of mayhem. Excuse me if I need a moment or two to myself in order to get myself together so I can kill the man I love." Were those tears pricking behind his eyelids? God, he hoped so.

"Im sorry, Kurt, I am. None of us knew this would happen." There was sadness in his eyes, only a little, as most of Nicks expression was schooled into that steely professionalism he had been taught by his father. Watchers handbook, rule number one: never let your emotions guide your decisions. Or something like that.

"Save your sorries, give me two uninterrupted hours and Ill go out there and... do what I have to do. I just... Before I can do that, I need to die a little, too."

"No! Absolutely not. I will do anything I can, but I beg of you, dont lose yourself to this," the dark-haired young man started pleading with Kurt.

"Can you bring my boyfriend back?", the boy asked in a soft voice, barely more than a whisper. "Can you return my soulmate the very thing that made him just that? Can you give me a reason why I shouldnt lose myself aside from my sacred duty, which, to be quite frank with you, I have become sick and tired of?"

Nick just soundlessly mouthed words. Bless him, Kurt loved him dearly, but if you looked up "emotional cripple" on Google, there would be page after page filled with Nicks pictures, and probably an urbandictionary entry as well.

"I thought so. Now, get out of here, get out of my sight and dont return until exactly two hours have passed or you will wish I would have let Blaine bash you in and rip your head off." His voice was devoid of emotion as he uttered the threat, like his insides. Kurt was well-aware of the fact that he was being tactless, that his newly-titled "ex" was very close friends with Nick, but he just couldnt give a fuck at the moment.

He needed to break down before he could build himself back up and bury Blaine under the rubble. The numbness had to fade, so some of the fight he was usually so full of could be restored. Digging out his journal, he thought remembering might be a good start. He read the first entry as memories started flooding his mind.

2 years prior: August 14th, 2011

It was just another night, which meant Kurt Hummel would be found at Limas hottest place-to-be for teenagers, the Loch Ness. With his perfectly coiffed chestnut hair, his milky-white complexion, eyes that changed color from blue to green to yellow to gray depending on his mood, and being someone of excellent fashion taste and unwilling to compromise that part of himself, he had worked hard to perfect the art of blending in, just so nobody bothered talking to him. This was necessary, as it left the inconspicuous brunette free to do what he always came to do: observe. Also, Nick was with him and most people thought the older man with the dark-brown straight hair and brown eyes always seen around "the queer" was his boyfriend, which effectively disgusted the community of the small town in Ohio too much to attempt a conversation, or even want to be spotted in their general vicinity. If it didnt fit his cause perfectly, Kurt would probably be upset. But picking vampires out of the vast mass of moving bodies around him demanded concentration; concentration he didnt have when he had to talk to people and awkwardly try to let girls down easy or snap at homophobic assholes who had to maintain their tainted honor and assert their straightness, now that they had been seen with him, by putting him down in public.

"Look at those two," Nick whispered to him and nodded in the direction of a short guy with curly dark hair and a blonde girl. The guy was wearing a gray button-up shirt with a bottle green bowtie and a matching cardigan, paired with gray skinny jeans, which were rolled up so his ankles were showing, and green loafers without socks. The girl was dressed in a very cute black petticoat dress with red polka dots and her feet were covered by heeled black Mary Janes with red bows on the strap. They were dancing and twirling in total disregard of the song currently blasting through the P.A., "Low" by Flo Rida.

"Which one? They both kinda look like they escaped a 50s movie. Seriously, open a fashion magazine every once in a while," Kurt sighed as he observed the pair. "Or do you think theyre a couple on the prowl?"

Nick slurped his drink, contemplating. "Im not sure, Im thinking its more likely the girl is pure. He keeps whispering to her when he pulls her in and hes leading the dance. Look at their interaction, not just their clothing," the Watcher advised his charge. The latter simply rolled his eyes; the way he acted, people would assume Nick was 47 instead of 23. However, he was aware that this kind of behavior came with the responsibility the job held. Being a Slayer should put him right up there with his young Watcher, and Nick often marveled at how Kurt managed to maintain the attitude and, sometimes, immaturity of the 17-year-old he was.

"Stop trying to look at your brain, and stop thinking about how Im way too serious for my age, and just do it. Shut out everything and focus all your senses on them. Then tell me what you see," Nick instructed him. And so Kurt did just that.

What he saw was... interesting. Yes, the clothes suggested they were both vampires. The way the man... well, boy... was openly flirting with the girl should have been suspicious, too, like Nick already pointed out. Only it wasnt, at least not the way it usually was. He had seen enough vampires seducing humans to follow them into some dark alley to know that either this guy had no game at all or had a different agenda; his beautiful hazel eyes didnt hold any traces of lust, the blood kind or any other. What irked him most, though, was the spark that shot up his spine and the warmth spreading through his entire body when he looked up and met Kurts gaze for a second. That is definitely new, Kurt thought before focusing his attention on the other person dancing.

The girl had her arms around his shoulders now and was giggling, no, throwing her head back in laughter and coyly playing with her hair. For anyone around them, she was probably so obvious it was disgusting but then there were her eyes, too. And there was the malicious glint, the bloodlust he had been looking for, yellowing her irises ever so slightly for split-seconds only.

"Point for the Slayer while the Watcher has yet to score. Shes the bad egg in the mix, not him. I dont know what hes playing at, though, because he doesnt find her alluring at all from what Ive seen so far," Kurt informed the man beside him when suddenly, the guy grabbed the girls hand and led her outside. "Shit," he muttered and jumped up, running outside, grabbing the stake hidden in his sleeve. When he reached the alley around the corner, a popular place vampires frequented with their prey, he heard the loud banging noise of metal on concrete, probably from trash cans being tipped over in a struggle if his experience was anything to go by, and then bone on stone.

Stake at the ready, he made to jump into the fight when he realized what was happening.

The curly-haired boy had the snarling girl in a headlock. Her once-beautiful face was now scrunched up around the nose and forehead and adorned with bumps, yellow eyes and fangs, exposing her true nature. When Kurts gaze darted back to the boy, he saw an expression of calm focus, as opposed to the usual terror humans sported at the sight, as he repeatedly rammed the vampires head into the brick walls enclosing the alleyway while she fought against his hold. He shoved her into the ground and stamped hard on her face; a crunch that would have been sickening to anyone not in the business echoed around them as her nose broke and she let out a feral scream. The guy then pulled a stake from the folds of where his jeans were rolled up and brought it down hard, piercing the girls chest and heart and reducing her to rubble.

Dusting off his hands and clothes, he turned to a gaping Kurt, and smiled, and wow, hello there.

"Hey, you must be Kurt! Thanks for checking up on me; I wasnt sure if I was as good at playing straight as I thought Id be, and if she had caught on and led me into a trap, well, your help would have been greatly appreciated. But I guess Im a good actor after all."

His voice was deep, but not overly so, and cheerful, and smooth like honey, and along with the unexpected turn of events and that god-damn smile, Kurt was rendered speechless. Which was a rare occurrence. As in, it never happened. He prided himself on always having a sarcastic remark or two to spit out.

Nick chose that moment to catch up with Kurt, resting his hands on his knees as he doubled over in an effort to catch his breath.

"Ill never... smoke pipe... ever... again..." When his charge didnt give the usual snappy response, he looked up at the scene before him. Kurt was standing there, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide as he regarded the guy they had been watching earlier.

"Who – what - are you?", Kurt asked in a slightly shaky voice. The guy laughed jovially.

"Who is a good place to start. Sorry, I forgot my non-existent manners. Blaine Anderson, and I believe we are... colleagues." He held out his hand, and after a moment, Kurt hesitantly shook it. There was that tiny spark again, shooting up his spine at the contact, but he ignored it; there were more pressing matters.

"What do you mean? Do you mean you are..."

Blaine nodded. "A Slayer, yes," he clarified. "I was sent here because apparently, there have been signs of some major uprising. My..." He shuffled his feet and looked down, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and vulnerable. "My Watcher couldnt get a clear interpretation of the signs before she was killed. But whatever it is, it is big."

A throat was cleared roughly behind them and both boys turned around to look at Nick, now back to his normal breathing.

"Another male Slayer? Thats not possible. When Andrew Wells cast the spell, it was the original version the Shadowmen crafted, altered to fit a male subject, meaning there was a Chosen One male Slayer," he explained haughtily, looking down on Blaine with the arrogance it had taken Kurt weeks to decipher as an act. He assumed the curly-haired boy would shrink on himself like he had, but was further surprised and very impressed when he turned his nose up in answer and replied just as haughtily, "Yes, it is possible. Buffy Summers and Kendra, and then later, when Kendra was killed by Drusilla, Faith Lehane. Ring a bell? Wow, if I have to work with you, the Earth is doomed."

"Listen here, you brat, you will respect me!", the scorned man hissed. "I am well aware of Miss Summers story, but Kurt never died! I dont know what your scheme is, and Im not interested in finding out either, so you have two op-"

"Nick, hold on." Both men shifted their gaze towards Kurt, who in turn was looking down at the ground, wrapping his arms around his own chest. Nick knew that gesture of insecurity all too well by now.

"Kurt?" Upon hearing his name uttered in Blaines already too familiar voice, the coiffed teenager raised his head, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Well, technically..."

Kurt never intended to tell Nick about this. He knew his Watcher would probably be devastated if he found out, even if things turned out fine, because he technically should have been there to prevent it.

"Kurt? Please, I need to know what happened and if we can trust that boy," Nick implored his charge, who swallowed hard before opening his mouth to speak. Blaine just looked at him with an unreadable expression; it ticked him off because he never had trouble reading anybody.

"Okay, first of all please, dont freak out. Nothing Im about to tell you is your fault in any way." He closed his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts, then proceeded with his tale, including the stuff Nick already knew in order to clue Blaine in. No logical explanation sprang to mind as to why he trusted this guy he met not even 20 minutes ago, but living in the world he was a part of, you kind of learn to forgo logic and trust your instincts.

"Back when I was first Called... well, you both know the drill. There were the nightmares, the sudden burst of strength, increased agility and reflexes, heightened senses... But no one was there to explain what was going on to me, so naturally, I was freaking out." Addressing Blaine, he added, "My original Watcher was murdered before she could get to me and it took a couple of days for the Council to notice something was up and send someone new."

"Im sorry," Blaine muttered, but Kurt just waved him off. He wasnt proud of it, but after two years of fighting and death, he was pretty desensitized.

"Thanks. Its not like I knew her, though – not that that makes it okay."

When the curly-haired teen smiled a little, his stomach did a weird flip. Okay, I need to continue before I do something Ill really regret, like jump his bones right here, in this dirty alley, in front of Nick. "Anyway, the second night, I had a particularly freaky nightmare and when I woke up, I was... thrumming. I had this energy and the fear only made it that much more potent, or maybe it was the other way around, Im not sure. I sneaked out and started walking through the streets of Lima to the cemetery because I always feel the need to talk to my Mom when Im upset. When I got there, I was attacked. There is a pond near the chapel, and someone pushed me into it face-first and held me down. Im not too sure what happened after that, kinda dying makes your perception a little fuzzy around the edges." It was a feeble attempt at a joke; Blaine even chuckled briefly, but Nick was white as a sheet and appeared to be completely aghast by what his Slayer was recounting.

"So... you..." The dark-haired man couldnt seem to even form the words. If it hadnt been a year and a half ago, and Kurt hadnt gotten used to the fact that he was going to die an untimely death, and hadnt started counting himself amongst the lucky ones that he wasnt rotting away somewhere so far, he probably would be a blubbering mess now, so he couldnt really blame him. Plus, he had had his "Im-not-coping-so-I-joined-the-Skanks-and-just-smoke-all-day-so-please-help-me"-phase. He still had the lip ring to prove it, though thankfully, no tattoos of Ryan Seacrest.

"Yeah, I died," Kurt confirmed quietly. "It couldnt have been more than a minute. I still dont know why I didnt stay that way, either, I just remember this weird brownish-green light and a woman saying something, I think it was in a different language. Im sorry I didnt tell you. At first I was too scared to even allow myself to think about it, and then it just seemed kind of redundant to bring it up. I was thinking something like this," he pointed to Blaine, who was silently watching their exchange, "might happen, but I wasnt sure, and I didnt want to burden you. Im sorry," he repeated, cautiously peering up under his lashes to check his Watchers reaction; he anticipated a shit storm of some kind.

But Nick just slumped against the brick wall behind him and buried his face in his hands, wiping it, and then ran his fingers through his hair and held them there. Kurt stepped towards him.

"Hey, its okay. Really, Im fine, right? I couldnt annoy you half as much if I werent," he tried to cheer him up, and his Watcher gave him a weak smile, which disappeared quickly though to be replaced by a pain-stricken expression.

"Kurt, you were dead. How can you be so flippant about this? Your heart stopped beating, your lungs stopped breathing, oh my God..."

The Slayer engulfed the man in a hug, mindful not to squeeze too tightly in order not to crush him, and he returned the embrace. "Im alright, Nick, Im alright. Stop being such a drama queen. You know its serious when I, of all people, say that." This time, he actually got a tiny laugh out of him. The glasz-eyed teen called that a victory. They stayed wrapped in each others arms for a while until there was some awkward shuffling and throat-clearing behind them.

"I hate to break this moment, but uh... Maybe we should get out of the dark alley and go, I dont know, somewhere they have appropriate lighting and coffee? And not anyone could walk in or by and overhear?" Blaine suggested carefully.

Cheeks heating up to reveal his trademark blush, Kurt pulled back and looked the other Slayer in the eyes, giving him a shy smile.

"Sure. We need to talk logistics anyway. We can go to my place, my father and step-mother are on a campaign in D.C., and my step-brother is at his girlfriends house, so its empty," he replied. The other boy nodded in agreement. Nick, however, seemed to be averse to the suggestion, judging from the frown adorning his face.

"Why not go to my house, where we dont run the risk of exposure?"

Kurt laughed out loud at that, and Blaine grinned at the sound. "Like Id go to your place when mine is free! No offense, Nicky, but everything about your house screams old person who doesnt know how to have fun, and my allergies are triggered by all the dust that comes out of those ancient tomes you keep digging out of God-knows-where. Also, I need to change, and I have no viable clothing options at yours. Neither does Blaine, for that matter."

Blaine nodded his consent again. "Yeah, I wasnt sure if theres a dress code at that stinky bar-club-hybrid-thing, which there painfully obviously isnt, but fuck, wouldnt I like to get out of these grandpa clothes, too." Kurt cursed himself for the mental images which popped up when he heard that and the blush which had just disappeared crept back up. "And maybe have a hot shower and stay in a bed where I dont have to occupy my time guessing the original shade of the sheets. Theres so many so much better things to do in beds. Or what do you say, gorgeous?" Did he just wink at Kurt?! Wait, gorgeous?

Nick just spluttered indignantly at the insinuations as Kurt led the way to his car, his usually alabaster skin flaming red, and Blaine followed with a look of innocence that fooled no one.