Kurt opened his eyes hours later to find himself alone, naked in Blaine's bed. He propped himself up on his elbow, ran a hand through his hair, and blinked in the darkness, searching for Blaine.

"Blaine?" he called. Kurt scanned the room, but saw no sign of his boyfriend. Still somewhat sleepy, he reached for Blaine's pillow and pulled it to him. He held it close and breathed in deep, chasing Blaine's smell. That's when he saw the note.

Kurt –

Went to take care of some business.

See you in a few.

Love,

Blaine

Kurt's heart slammed in his chest, his entire body from the bottoms of his feet to the roots of his hair suddenly tingling with cold. Business. Kurt looked at the clock on Blaine's desk. It read a little after midnight. What kind of business could Blaine have at midnight? Kurt's foggy brain knew of only one thing Blaine might be doing right now, and it made Kurt's breathing stop. He searched the bed for his phone. He found it stuffed underneath his pillow, and dialed Blaine.

"Pickupickupickup..." Kurt chanted as the phone rang, but the ringing eventually stopped, and the call went to voicemail. Kurt called again several times, but each call went to voicemail. Kurt tried to stay calm, but his whole body went into panic mode. His heart raced, his mouth went dry, he couldn't stay still. He knew there'd be no way in hell he'd be able to sit around in Blaine's room and wait for him to come back, so he pulled on some clothes (he had no idea whose), throwing himself haphazardly together, and ran downstairs. He was headed for the front door when the sound of moaning stopped him in his tracks. Kurt peered into the pitch black living room, afraid that he might have caught the elusive Mrs. Anderson (Blaine's mother, whom Kurt had yet to meet) in flagrante delicto, and with God knows who. Blaine never did say where his mother was or when she would be back. This would be a horrible way to break the ice.

"Unicorn!" a bubbly voice called out of the dark. Brittany, in stocking feet with her skirt hanging off her hips and her shirt askew, ran up to Kurt and threw her arms around him.

"Brittany?" Kurt couldn't have been more surprised than if he had caught Mrs. Anderson having sex. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Blaine called us to babysit you," Brittany explained. She looked Kurt up and down, her smile turning into a disappointed frown. "He told us you were naked."

"What?" Kurt asked. What was the purpose of mentioning that? "I…I don't understand."

"It's simple, Lady Face." Santana followed out of the shadows, zipping up her shirt and adjusting her bra. "One of the Dalton crew tipped Blaine off that Monster's back in Westerville, and Blaine went to sort him out."

"What!?" Kurt gasped. "Dave? I thought..." A hundred horrific images ran through Kurt's brain of Dave hunting him down, seeking revenge, trying to finish the business he had left undone in the alley, or even more prevalent now, Dave beating the living shit out of Blaine.

Fear crept up Kurt's throat from his churning stomach and dawned on his face.

"I have to get to him!" Kurt patted himself up and down, searching his pockets for his keys, cursing as he flattened his clothes and found nothing. "Fuck fuck fuck! He has my keys!"

"Yeah," Santana agreed blandly. "I think he took your car."

Kurt looked at the two girls in wide-eyed despair. Why did they not look as terrified as he felt?

"Can you guys drive me to my house, please?"

He didn't understand Santana's nonchalance, and he barely ever understood Brittany, so he didn't wait for an answer. He opened the door and walked out. Brittany smiled gleefully at Santana and bounced out after him.

"Yeah. Sure," Santana deadpanned to an empty house. "Why not? Not like any of us were busy enjoying ourselves or anything."

Santana drove her Camaro the way Blaine drove his Mustang - with reckless abandon. Except when Blaine did it, it made Kurt hot.

When Santana did it, Kurt feared for his life.

Her car cornered like it was on rails, and like Blaine, she felt speed limits were only suggestions. After a few close calls on the main road with some badly timed cross-traffic and one skid-out near the high school, they made it to Kurt's house in minutes, and alive, which thrilled him to no end.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his Eclipse parked in his driveway, but his heart sank again when he realized Blaine's Mustang was gone. Kurt leapt out of Santana's car, nearly beheading poor Brittany with his foot in his mad scramble over the seat. He ran up to his Eclipse and looked in the window, cursing when he saw his keys waiting for him in the driver's seat. He felt the hood of his car, hoping for warmth. If the engine was still warm, then Blaine couldn't have gotten here too long ago, and maybe Kurt could still catch him, convince him to go back home with him, and forget about whatever 'business' he thought he had with Monster.

But the metal hood was ice cold.

Kurt opened the door, grabbed his keys, and headed for his house.

"I guess we'll wait here!" Santana yelled past her giggling girlfriend as Kurt ran off and left them.

Kurt searched the lower level before venturing upstairs. He didn't know why he thought Blaine would be there, inside the house, and without his car out front, but Kurt hoped against hope that he was.

When he was certain that the bottom level was empty, he raced upstairs and into his dad's room. Totally ignoring the fact that his dad was lying in bed beside (a thankfully dressed) Carole, Kurt shook his dad until his tired eyelids fluttered.

"What the...?" Burt grumbled. He opened his eyes and saw his son's angst-filled face staring back at him. From beside Burt, a light switched on. Carole pulled the covers up to her neck and looked at Kurt.

"Kurt?" she said, startled by his intrusion. "Honey? What's wrong?"

"Dad? Did Blaine talk to you guys when he came by to pick up his car?" Kurt asked, tapping his foot feverishly as he tried to stay calm.

Please say yes, he thought. Please tell me he talked with you about his whole stupid plan and you talked him out of it, and now he's at the Lima Bean getting coffee before he returns to me.

Please...

"No, kiddo," Burt muttered, sitting up. "What's going on? You look scared out of your wits."

Kurt couldn't answer right away, too choked by fear and frustration to say a thing. How could Blaine be so stupid? Going off alone to Westerville? Not waking Kurt up to give him an opportunity to talk him out of it? Kurt loved Blaine, frighteningly so, but he could still recognize what a dumbass a move that was, putting his life in danger to solve nothing.

"Could you come with me to the shop?" Kurt asked. Logically, they should head straight to Dalton. But Kurt felt like he would find some answers there. "I think something bad is happening."

"Sure, buddy. Right away," his dad snuffled, gruff with sleep. "Why don't you start over? I'll see you in a few minutes."

Kurt ran to his room to put on something other than Blaine's pajamas. He threw on jeans and a shirt, thinking the evening through from Blaine's point of view. Blaine had wanted to protect Kurt; that was admirable. But he had run head long into trouble, and hadn't woken Kurt up to say good bye, hadn't given him the option of talking him out of it. Blaine should be with him in bed. Whatever horrendous thing would have happened with the return of Dave, they could have faced it together.

Damn fucking Blaine!

Grabbing the pillow off his bed, Kurt shoved his face in it and screamed. He screamed until his throat burned, until he knew he had done some damage to his vocal cords. Then he threw the pillow across the room. Tears in his eyes, he raced out his bedroom door and down the steps, two at a time.

Outside, Santana had Brittany pushed up against her car, hands up her shirt, lips on her neck.

"Santana? Brittany? Could you go back to Blaine's? You know, in case he shows up back there?" He didn't glance their way as he got into his car and peeled out of the driveway, heart pounding in his ears, teeth clenched against fresh screams. He had the sinking suspicion that whatever was supposed to go down that night, he was too late to stop it.

"Sheesh," Santana complained, opening the door for Brittany. "Everybody and their fucking awful timing."

Brittany sat in the passenger seat, grabbing her girlfriend's hand before Santana could close the door. Santana saw Brittany's worried face, her knitted brow, and did her best to smile.

"It'll be okay, baby," Santana said, petting Brittany's hair, smoothing down the fly-aways. "Blaine's a serious badass, and he can give as good as he gets, even better. You've seen him. He'll be alright."

"Do you really believe that?" Brittany asked.

"Of course, I do," Santana said, leaning forward to kiss Brittany on the forehead. "Come on. Let's get going."

"It wasn't your fault, you know," Brittany said, pulling the door shut. Santana's breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes.

Brittany knew – was probably the only person who did know – that Santana's constant sarcastic remarks were a defense mechanism. Santana didn't feel any of it. Deep inside, Santana didn't want to admit that she was scared for Blaine, too. She should have tried to keep him from leaving, or at least got him to wait for someone to go with him. Fuck, she should have left Britt at his place with Kurt and gone with him herself. But for whatever she could have done, she didn't, and she'd never forgive herself if something happened to Blaine. She tried not to think about it as she got into her car and drove Brittany back to Blaine's.

Kurt drove by some of Blaine's haunts before heading to the shop, praying he would stumble upon Blaine's Mustang, maybe with Blaine asleep inside, but he had no luck.

The lights were on at Hummel Tires and Lube by the time Kurt got there. He saw his dad's truck parked out front, and a petite figure waving at him as he pulled in. Kurt parked next to his dad's truck, got out of his car, and hurried over.

"Kurt," Carole said, "are you ok? We thought you'd get here before us."

"I went looking in a few places, but…" Kurt shook his head.

"Kurt, it'll be alright," she said, trying to soothe him the way nurses do in emergency situations. But Blaine was one of the boys, a friend of her son's. It wasn't easy for her to set her own fears aside on this one.

"I keep calling him," Kurt said with an anxious growl, "and it just goes to voicemail. I know something bad happened to him. I just know it."

"Kurt, I need you to tell me what's going on," Burt said, walking toward his son. "Why would Blaine be in trouble?"

Kurt sighed. He had to come clean. He told his father and Carole everything, starting with the day Wes and his crew first came into the shop. He told his father about Sebastian's constant advances, Dave's unnerving behavior, and Blaine - how Blaine had been an ass to him at first, how he'd pursued him, and treated him like a gentleman. He told his father about the race when Blaine won him from Dalton, told him about the attack, how Dave had shoved him up against the wall and kissed him. He told his father that, after their trip to the police station, Dave had been arrested, and they thought they could start putting this behind them.

"Oh, Kurt," Burt said, taking hold of his son's arm. "Why didn't you tell me all this sooner?"

"Because I was angry with you at first," Kurt admitted. "And then it all seemed fine...until it wasn't. I...I didn't want to disappoint you. I mean, after the problems with your heart, I didn't want to add..." Kurt stuttered to a halt, choking back tears. "But that doesn't matter right now. If I know Blaine, he went to Westerville to confront Dave. Something had to have happened to him, Dad. He won't answer his phone, he won't return my calls. He's been gone for hours."

"Westerville's over an hour away," Burt said, "so we'd better get going."

"Right," Kurt said, feeling lighter. They'd go get Blaine together. They'd work this out. Kurt headed to his car, and Burt to his truck.

"Stay here in case he comes back," Burt called over his shoulder to Carole.

"Will do," Carole said, wrapping her arms around her chest and shivering, but not from the morning chill.

A harrowing sound swallowed her reply; the loud, almost overwhelming roar of multiple engines heading their way. Kurt jumped back just in time as a line of cars rushed by at nearly top speed - Wes's Supra, Hunter's Silvia, David's Integra, Thad's Lancer, and pulling up the rear, Sebastian's GT-R.

Burt held Carole as the cars raced by, kicking up dust and gravel, making it impossible to see. Kurt felt something heavy hit his legs. He shielded his face, his eyes watering, but he couldn't see past the HIDs and the storm of debris.

Then, just like that, the cars sped off, disappearing around the corner.

"Are you alright?" Burt called to his son, covering his eyes with a hand, blinking away the dust.

"Yeah," Kurt yelled, coughing inside the settling cloud, "I'm alright. But I think…"

Kurt was vaguely aware of the presence of something large and heavy at his feet, but he couldn't make out what it was. If he had to guess, he'd say it felt like a body.

Was there a chance that it was…

Carole's strangled gasp confirmed Kurt's fears.

"Blaine!" she cried. "Oh my God! Blaine!"

Kurt still couldn't see clearly, but he knelt, running a hand over what lay hunched there. He felt the rough leather of Blaine's jacket. Running down the length of what should be his arm, Kurt found his hand. Kurt's eyes began to clear. He heard his dad and Carole making their way over at a jog.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt said, tears falling onto Blaine's jacket. Blaine moaned, trying to roll onto his back and look into Kurt's face. When he did, Kurt cried out. Both of Blaine's eyes had swollen shut. His lips were split in several places. A sizeable gash had opened up over his eye, and other multiple cuts littered his skin. Kurt knew those were only the bruises they could see. He couldn't imagine what might be blossoming beneath his clothes.

Kurt saw Blaine's mouth struggling to move.

"Blaine?" Kurt said, his voice weak.

"Hello...beautiful..." Blaine's voice sounded raspy - a raw, scratchy whisper.

Carole bent over Blaine, examining him, gently feeling his stomach and his ribs, watching his reaction. Burt pulled out his phone and called 9-1-1.

"It doesn't feel like he has any broken ribs," Carole announced, trying to get a good look into Blaine's eyes, "but he might have internal bleeding. We need to get him to the hospital."

"No!" Blaine balked, fighting to sit up, but Kurt held his body firm against him. "I can't...no...they'll want to call my mom..."

"That's ok," Kurt soothed. "I'll call her if you want. I'll let her know what happened, and..."

"No," Blaine whimpered. "You don't understand. She's gone."

"What?" Kurt looked into Carole's eyes, questioningly, but Carole looked equally confused.

"What do you mean she's gone, honey?" Carole asked, taking Blaine's other hand.

"She left me," Blaine explained, panicked. "After I got home...after my dad...she said that was the last straw, and she left."

"You mean, you've been alone this whole time?" Kurt felt something sharp wrap around his heart and squeeze. Blaine - his strong, beautiful Blaine - alone in that huge house. Sure, he was almost an adult, and obviously had no problem taking care of himself, but he was still very much a teenager. He shouldn't have to take care of himself. Not yet.

"Look," Carole said, "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I'm not going to let you possibly bleed to death. Do you understand?"

Blaine nodded, accepting defeat. Kurt turned toward the sound of crunching gravel as his dad walked over.

"The ambulance is on its way." Burt looked down at the boy, lying like a ragdoll in his son's arms. "How you feelin', buddy?"

Blaine groaned in reply.

"Yup," Burt said. "You look like crap."

Blaine sputtered a sickly laugh. Kurt glared at his father, mortified.

"Dad!" Kurt cried, swatting his dad's boot.

"Well, he does."

Blaine smirked, squeezing lightly at Kurt's hand. Kurt turned back to his boyfriend, unable to stop the tears that escaped his eyes.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine mouthed, reaching up to catch those tears, but Kurt caught his hand, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"You know, I am so so so mad at you, you ass," Kurt said in a trembling voice. "You left me alone. I should have been with you."

Blaine shook his head - a subtle, painful looking movement from side to side.

"No. You would have gotten hurt, too."

"Maybe," Kurt answered, "but you didn't give me that choice, did you? Why is everyone living my life for me?"

"I didn't want you to talk me out of going," Blaine admitted.

"You're fucking right I would have talked you out of going." Kurt cursed the tears that fell from his eyes and on to Blaine's cheeks. "I would have done anything to make you stay."

"Anything?" Blaine managed to smile cheekily at Kurt. Kurt scoffed.

"Right, Anderson" - Kurt grimaced in disbelief - "get your mind out of my pants. At this rate, you're going to be an old man before you suck my dick again."

Blaine's face went white underneath its sheen of dust, and from behind him, Kurt heard his dad clear his throat.

"Uh..." Kurt's face burned. Whispering or not, his voice cut sharply through the early morning quiet. Blaine's laughter warmed Kurt, even though Kurt silently wondered where that hole was, the one that was supposed to swallow him into the earth to save him from embarrassment. This is the second time it had failed in its duty.

The ambulance showed up within minutes. The EMTs worked quickly, carefully moving Blaine onto a gurney. They tried to take his vitals, but he wouldn't let go of Kurt's hand.

"Don't leave me, Kurt," Blaine murmured. "Please, don't leave me."

"Can't I ride with him?" Kurt begged. "I'm his boyfriend."

"I'm sorry, young man," one of the EMTs said, his voice kind but firm. "Immediate family only."

Burt put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, then one on Blaine's arm, squeezing reassuringly.

"We'll be right behind you, Blaine," Burt said. "I promise. Five, ten minutes tops."

Blaine met Burt's gaze and nodded, then he closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and silently, Kurt shuddered.

"We'll meet him at the hospital," Burt said, tugging gently at Kurt's shoulder, pulling him away. Kurt reluctantly let go of Blaine's hand, and watched as the two men in uniform loaded the gurney with Blaine on it into the ambulance.

Hospital. Another person Kurt loved going to a hospital.

When would the nightmare ever end?