Burt called the police from the house before they headed to the shop. When they arrived, investigators were already there talking to Brittany, and looking over the damage.

Kurt recognized Officer Gregory as he picked his way through the debris. The officer rolled his eyes when he saw Kurt and Blaine walking hand in hand toward the shop.

"How did I know I would see the two of you sooner than later?" Officer Gregory said as he approached them.

Kurt sighed, holding Blaine's hand tighter.

"Hello, officer." Kurt said. "I don't think you've properly met my boyfriend. This is Blaine Anderson."

"Good to see you up and about," Officer Gregory said, extending a hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Uh...thanks?" Blaine looked to Kurt for help.

"Officer Gregory came by your room when you were in the hospital," Kurt explained. "He wanted to ask you about what happened at Dalton the other night, but you were unconscious."

"To say the least," the officer said with a laugh.

"Oh." Blaine and Kurt nodded awkwardly.

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" the officer asked. Kurt looked at Blaine. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand.

"We have an idea," Kurt said. "But unfortunately we can't prove it."

"Let me guess," Officer Gregory said. "Your pals in Westerville?'

Kurt nodded. Blaine blew out a long, frustrated breath. Kurt thought the officer would turn and walk away to confer with the other investigators, but Officer Gregory eyed Blaine with a calculating look.

"Hey," the officer said, looking at Blaine directly. "Have you gotten any word from your mom yet? Know when she's coming back?"

Kurt's eyes went wide, looking at Blaine, who appeared surprisingly unfazed.

"Not yet, sir," Blaine replied smoothly. "Unfortunately, I don't expect to hear from her anytime soon."

The officer nodded.

"A-ha," the officer said. "And where did she go again?"

Kurt's hand trembled like a leaf in Blaine's grasp, but Blaine squeezed it reassuringly.

"To my aunt's in Chicago," Blaine said. "For a family funeral."

"And you didn't go?" The officer sounded a little suspicious. "Was it a family member you didn't like?"

Blaine looked up at the officer, fixing the full fire of his gold eyes his way.

"My family in Chicago doesn't speak to me because I'm gay."

The officer seemed startled by Blaine's answer. He nodded.

"I see," he replied. "I'm sorry. Well, it's nice to see you up and about."

"Thank you, sir." Blaine pulled a shell-shocked Kurt toward the shop. Kurt glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot, then leaned in to Blaine's ear.

"What was that?" Kurt whispered, still shaken by the officer's questions.

"Carole told me about the police investigating the fight in Westerville and warned me that they might contact me. She told me what you guys said to the officer at the hospital."

"But, what about that stuff about your mom?" Kurt said. "Did you plan for that, or did you make it up in the spot?"

Blaine looked down at his shoes.

"It wasn't all a lie," Blaine said. "I do have an aunt in Chicago. My mom could have gone there. And my family in Chicago doesn't talk to me because I'm gay."

Kurt sighed.

"I am so sorry, Blaine."

Blaine smiled and put his arms around Kurt.

"It's alright," Blaine said. "You're my family now."

Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes and smiled.

"I am?" Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest.

"As long as you'll have me," Blaine said. "I can't imagine any place feeling more like home than right here in your arms."

Blaine kissed Kurt carefully, capturing his lower lip between his. Kurt sighed, just a soft breath of air tickling Blaine's skin.

"Kurt?" Kurt heard his father quietly interrupt. "Come see this."

Blaine led Kurt slowly into the shop, leading him around the broken glass. Kurt looked around, and choked on his next breath.

Glass littered the ground. All of the tools had been emptied from the cabinets. The few cars that had stayed overnight were demolished. Every window was shattered. The filing cabinets had been turned over and all of the files shredded. It looked as though someone had tried to start a fire in the office, but luckily the sprinkler system had kicked in and put it out. The lifts looked like they had been sabotaged.

"Oh, God," Kurt breathed, raising a hand to his mouth.

"Yeah," Burt agreed, rolling back and forth on his heels. "I'm waiting for the adjuster to get here, but I'm not sure if the insurance will cover all the damage. I mean, especially with the cars getting wrecked..."

Burt sighed and shook his head.

"Kurt," Burt looked down at his feet. "I'm not sure I know what we're going to do."

Kurt looked around the shop, the blue fire of his eyes blazing. Enough was enough. Kurt steeled himself as he looked at his dad.

"I do." Kurt's voice was full of determination. "We'll see what the insurance will cover, and then I'll pay for the rest. We'll get the shop fixed, and be back in business."

Burt looked up at his son. Blaine turned to his boyfriend. Both men looked at Kurt with mouths hung open.

"I appreciate the sentiment," Burt said. "You have no idea. But that could be thousands of dollars. Maybe even ten thousand dollars."

"I have twenty-two thousand dollars I earned working for the Dalton Crew," Kurt announced. Blaine nearly choked.

"Twenty-two thou..." Blaine whistled low. "No wonder you were so pissed at me."

Kurt smiled apologetically.

"You got all that for fixing cars?" Burt asked.

"Most of it," Kurt said. "Flipped a couple, too. Bought some old bodies at auction and turned them into racers."

Kurt went from proud to ashamed when he saw the look on his dad's face.

"Dad, I am so sorry. I should have listened..."

"No," Burt said. "I should have listened. I shouldn't have been so stubborn. If I had let you fix that car the first day here in the shop, you wouldn't have gone behind my back. But, look..." Burt took his son's hands in his. "I may not agree with how you got the money, but it's yours. It's for college. New York. NYADA. It's all you've talked about. It's important to you."

"Dad," Kurt said, his eyes glistening, "if I had remembered what was important to me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

*                                                             *                                                                    *                                                     *

The adjuster came to the shop and talked to Burt in the ruined office for over an hour. Kurt and Blaine started cleaning up the shop, and later in the afternoon when school let out, members of the McKinley crew stopped by to lend a hand. The damage to the shop looked worse than it actually was on paper. The tools could be salvaged, and the the sabotage to the lifts turned out to be minor. It was a good thing that whoever Wes sent to do this didn't know much about the equipment at the shop, so they didn't really know how to do any real damage.

The insurance covered the damage to the customers' vehicles, all of which were sent to another shop a few miles away for repairs, covered completely by Hummel Tires and Lube. The money Kurt had saved went toward replacing an air compressor, getting a computer system to replace the old pen and paper filing system, replacing some other odds and ends, and fixing up the cosmetic damage to the shop. Because Kurt, Blaine, and the crew volunteered their time to do the work, Kurt ended up keeping some of his money.

Everything came together quicker than Kurt had imagined it would when they first saw the devestation to the shop. Hummel Tires and Lube was back in business in no time, and Kurt got to the harrowing business of fixing up Blaine's Mustang.

The McKinley kids were really cool about driving Kurt and Blaine around, and Blaine's Mustang was close to fixed, but Burt could see just how much Kurt missed having his Eclipse. It wasn't the car, he knew, as much as the freedom.

Burt knew his son better than Kurt gave him credit for.

One afternoon, when Finn dropped Blaine and Kurt at the house, Burt ushered them to the garage.

Burt took a moment to position the boys elaborately in front of a large wall of boxes. Then he stood in front of them, clearing his throat several times before speaking.

"Kurt," Burt said, looking between the boys, hands still linked. "I want you to know just how proud I am of you. I...I didn't tell you before because...well, I think I took you for granted." Kurt looked at Blaine, and then over at his father again. "But you stepped up. Even met a nice boy..." Burt nodded toward Blaine, who looked down at his feet and smiled. "...you took responsibility, and made a lot of big sacrifices."

Burt sighed when he saw his son look down at his shoes.

"I know you miss your car, Kurt," Burt said, "and I wish I could afford to buy you a new one."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand. He knew what his boyfriend was thinking.

"I'd do it again, Blaine," Kurt said, lifting Blaine's hand to his lips and kissing it lightly. Blaine looked over at his boyfriend with a shy grin at the gesture. "Every day, I'd do it again."

"Yeah," Burt interrupted, a little uncomfortable with their display of affection. "Well, I think I have something that might help." Burt motioned for them to turn around. The boys looked, confused, at the large pile of boxes.

"Uh..." Kurt looked at Blaine, who shrugged. Burt sighed.

"Behind the boxes, boys."

Kurt stood on his tip toes and noticed for the first time a large shape covered in a greying car cover.

"What?" Kurt turned to his dad. Burt started to pull the boxes away, but Blaine put a hand on his arm, carefully leading the older man to a nearby chair. Kurt and Blaine moved the boxes to the other end of the garage.

"I've had this in storage since your mom died," Burt said, watching the boys work. "I've never shown it to you before, and, well, you never asked."

Blaine moved the last of the boxes aside and Kurt pulled the drop cloth off the car. Kurt's eyes lit up.

"It's a Mustang!" he exclaimed.  "A '67, right?" His dad nodded. The car was pretty much in mint condition. It was a beautiful blue color, much like Kurt's Eclipse had been only softer, more muter. Blaine thought this shade of blue was much closer to the color of Kurt's eyes.

"It belonged to your mother, before we got married." Burt rubbed a hand over his eyes as he recalled the memory. "I met her when she brought this car into my father's shop." Burt sighed. "It was going to be yours, but then you built that street racer thing, and, well, I didn't think you'd be interested. I didn't have the heart to sell it, so I stored it. I had it delivered when we moved out here."

Kurt stood stunned, his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Oh my God," Kurt said, looking it over, his eyes dancing like a child's on Christmas. "This belonged to mom?" Kurt turned to look at his dad, eyes misted over. "This is beautiful. Thank you."

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders. Kurt felt a nudge at his elbow, and turned around to see his dad handing him the keys.

"Mark drove her over here, so I know she starts up. She just needs a little tlc. Maybe you can tune her up and stuff, you know, after you're done with Blaine's car."

Kurt took the keys carefully, like they would break it he dropped them. Burt shrugged, shifting from one foot to the other as his son looked at him.

"Dad," Kurt choked around a sob. "I...I'm so sorry."

Burt's head snapped up.

"What for?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't give you the chance to share this with me until now."

Burt took his son into his arms and held him. He reached passed his son's embrace and put a hand on Blaine's arm. Blaine smiled, walking forward to join in the hug.

Burt held the two boys, biting back a sniffle.

"Well," he said, patting the boys on the shoulder, "why don't you guys take her out for a spin? You know, rotate the tires a bit."

Kurt giggled as he hopped into the car, Blaine walking over and getting in on the passenger side. Burt raised the garage door and Kurt turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life, then purred as Kurt let the engine idle for a moment.

"So, do you like this Mustang more than mine?" Blaine asked, pretending to pout.

"Well, this was my mom's," Kurt said, running his hands over the steering wheel and admiring the vintage dash. "And it has something your Mustang doesn't."

"What's that, beautiful?" Blaine looked from the dash, to the gauges, and then back to Kurt. Kurt raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly.

"Back seats."