--

Kurt followed Ryder through the woods toward the vampyr's skeleton of a village, his heart pounding in his throat the entire time. For some reason he'd always thought the vampyrs were indestructible, or at least the closest thing to it, and it seemed impossible that someone like Blaine--strong Blaine, fearsome Blaine, carved of jagged stone and untouchable--could be dying. He'd seen the way Sebastian's throat had healed when it had been slashed. What could have happened to Blaine that could have hurt him enough to push him near death?

When they arrived Kurt was stunned to see that the village was nearly desolate. Only a handful of vampyrs had returned, and they were all varying degrees of injured. Ryder led Kurt across town and into the inn, where several injured vampyrs had been laid out to rest and be treated for their wounds.

Kurt walked past Blaine's friend, Tina, who was unconscious and draped in bloody bandages. His chest tightened at the sight of her; she seemed to be healing, but at a much slower rate than the vampyrs normally did. If she looked so bad, what had become of Blaine?

He got his answer right away. Ryder led him into an adjacent room, where a fire had been lit and Blaine was lying on a bed near the back wall. Kurt stepped cautiously close, and he gasped out loud.

Blaine was barely recognizable. His skin seemed to have melted away from his flesh, which had turned almost entirely black on one side. Blood was caked all over him, staining the sheets where he lay, and the smell was terrible--unmistakably the stench of rotted flesh, and it made Kurt's stomach turn. Blaine's head was turned unnaturally to the side, and Kurt would have thought he was dead if it weren't for the ragged, labored breaths he took.

"My god," Kurt whispered, horrified. "What happened to him?"

"We don't know," said Sam, the blonde-haired vampyr who almost never left Blaine's side. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed, looking anxious. "We've never seen wounds like these before."

"You've seen how we heal," Ryder told Kurt. "It's a quick process, but this-- The only thing it reminds me of is your magic." He bit his lip awkwardly. "You know, like when you--"

"When I blinded you," Kurt finished for him. He walked closer to Blaine, reluctantly getting a closer look. It was revolting to look at the flesh rotting away, but he had no choice. He examined the wounds, holding his breath as his nostrils were flooded with the terrible stench.

"What do you think it is?" Sam pressed him. "Did Sebastian use some kind of magic on him?"

"That's the only thing I can think of," Kurt murmured. "But it must be dark magic of some kind. No spell I know could do something like this."

"But can you fix it?" Sam demanded.

Ryder shot him a look. "He won't if you keep crowing in his ear," he admonished, and Sam went red and fell silent.

"I've brought ingredients from home," Kurt informed them. "Along with some of my mother's spellbooks. I can't be certain, but there might be a spell I can cast that can fix him. I just..." He swallowed. "I haven't ever dealt with something like this before."

"We'll leave you to it then," said Ryder, getting to his feet.

Sam frowned at him. "But how can we--?"

"We can trust him," Ryder finished. "Come. Kurt needs to concentrate."

They left, and Kurt was left alone with the half-dead, rotting, incapacitated Blaine.

Instantly Kurt felt a sense of pity and alarm, but he wasn't certain if the feelings came from a sense of human empathy he couldn't shake--always present, even when inappropriate--or from genuine concern for the man who had scarred him so deeply. Indeed, it was as if a small battle began to wage inside him, fully armed on both sides, evenly matched. He wasn't sure if there would ever be an end in sight, or if he'd be hovering in a stalemate for the rest of his life.

So he decided to stop thinking and instead opted to act, throwing open spellbook after spellbook as he researched a possible cure. When his first search failed to produce any results, he decided to cook up something to take away some of the pain that Blaine was undoubtedly experiencing. It would reduce any sign of a fever as well, if such a thing could be experienced by a vampyr, so he set out on creating it.

Once the potion had been brewed he moved slowly to Blaine's bedside, his heartbeat quickening as he approached the fallen man. Instantly he thought of the cathedral, and the way Blaine had shielded Kurt's body from Sebastian's violence, protecting him from torment and death.

He spoke, his throat dry. "Blaine? Can you hear me?"

Blaine was silent, but he was breathing, and his eyes were half-lidded. Kurt worried his lip between his teeth and gently slid a hand under Blaine's head, pushing it upright.

"Drink this," he said softly. "It'll help with the pain, and bring your fever down... Can you swallow?"
It took some maneuvering, but he managed to tip some of the liquid into Blaine's mouth and down his throat. Blaine swallowed it weakly, and Kurt lowered his head back down onto the pillow so he could return to his research.

On his way back toward the fireplace, however, he felt a hand tug at his sleeve, halting his movement. He spun around.

"Blaine?" said Kurt, startled.

Blaine's lips moved, and a sound could just scarcely be heard from them, barely audible beneath the crackling of the fireplace.

"Kurt," he groaned, his voice hoarse and terrible to hear. "Is that you...?"

"Yes," said Kurt, nervous and unsettled. "It is me. But you ought not to talk, Blaine. Save your strength, all right?"

Blaine didn't listen. His fingers closed around Kurt's sleeve, clutching it.

"You came back," he whispered. "You came back..."

Kurt wasn't sure how to respond to that. Thankfully, he didn't have to-- Blaine slipped back into unconsciousness then, and Kurt quickly checked his vitals to be certain he was still alive. His anxiety grew, and he moved quickly back to the table near the fireplace, intent on finding a cure.


Hours passed. Kurt found himself getting more and more stressed, and the stench in the room was really starting to get to him. He felt nausea churn in his stomach again but he tried to fight it, focusing on the task at hand. Every time Blaine's breath stopped being audible he felt panic crawl up his chest and into his throat, choking him, and he'd have to get up and check his pulse to be sure Blaine was still alive.

The fear he was experiencing made no sense to him, but he had to accept it. He had to accept that Blaine meant something to him, as some fixture in his life he couldn't define, the subject of every emotion he was capable of feeling. Every time he stopped hearing Blaine's breath he had to wrestle his fear with relief, to beat down the vengeful monster that crawled around in his heart. Then he had to make peace with what was left when the monster was gone.

He had no idea what that was.

His back hurt from being hunched over his books, his head ached, and his stomach turned. The spellbook he'd inherited from his mother had once seemed a tome of limitless possibilities, a key to unlocking his own potential. Now it was a mess of scrambled words, useless to him, and he felt overcome with a sense of betrayal.

Kurt had never been a religious person. Shady Hollow was rooted in old faith, the sort that kept its people sane when living under constant threat of monsters. Kurt's faith was different, though-- As a witch, his spirit was locked in a symbiotic relationship with nature, with one force never overtaking the other. It was a life of intense self-reliance that his mother had passed down to him, and it had never failed him.

Now, the doubt was insidious, pouring into him like black tar hardening around his heart. He'd always believed his mother's magic was somehow instilled in him, as if he could simply unlock it by studying and practicing and never compromising his beliefs-- But he felt nothing. There was no sudden surge of power, no clarity, nothing except empty words and phrases that felt utterly hollow.

Kurt couldn't do it anymore. He needed to take a break.

With a loud thump he closed the book and got to his feet, walking out of the room without another look at Blaine. He could see Sam on a nearby chair, tending to Tina, and the blond vampyr stood as Kurt passed him and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, but Kurt ignored him.

Outside he could finally breathe in fresh air, and he took it in greedily, trying to fight the nausea that refused to go away. He braced himself on the wall of the inn, trying to hold back vomit, and was interrupted when Sam threw open the door beside him.

"Why have you stopped?" Sam cried. "You have to--"

"I don't have to do anything," Kurt mumbled, still doubled over. "Leave me. I'm going to be ill."

"If you let him die," said Sam, his voice raising. "I'll--"

"What? Hurt me?" Kurt shrieked, suddenly irate. "Rape me? There is nothing you can do that has not been done. And death would be a welcome respite from the hell you've all put me through."

Without another word he tore away from Sam, making a beeline for the edge of the woods. He needed space, he needed time, and he needed to breathe. As he walked he unknowingly placed a hand on his belly, either to stave off nausea or to somehow confirm the presence of the life that resided there.

The baby, he thought. My baby. Mine and Blaine's baby.

The world spun, and Kurt found a fallen log near the edge of the forest and slumped down upon it. He let his head fall into his hands and took several long, deep breaths, trying to keep himself from breaking down.

Eventually the nausea passed, and Kurt just sat alone for a long time, pulling together the seams within himself.

As he did so he noticed a soft sound coming from one of the houses nearby. He listened hard and realized it was someone crying--a girl, to be exact, and Kurt had a feeling he knew who it was.

He finally pulled himself up from the fallen tree and circled around the house to the back yard. There slumped on the ground by a pile of tinder was Marley, sobbing brokenly while she dug her claws over and over into her forearm. Blood spilled over her pale skin, and she continued raking them back and forth, tearing up her flesh.

"Marley!" Kurt gasped, rushing toward her. "Marley, stop!"

He seized her by the arms and tried to hold her fast as she struggled and flailed against him. He couldn't hold her very long--she was a vampyr, and much stronger than he was--but he kept trying to reach for her, desperate to keep her from harming herself further.

Thankfully his intervention was enough to stop her, at least for the time being. She slumped a bit and he reached out to grasp her shoulders again as they shook with sobs.

"Jake," she wailed. "Kitty..."

Kurt's chest tightened. He understood. Not all of the vampyrs had made it back.

"Marley," he said again, more softly. "Won't you come sit with me? I found a nice place to sit and rest, and there are plenty of crickets and butterflies about. Won't you come with me to see them?"

Marley sniffed, her expression so despondent it made Kurt forget all of his woes for the time being. She nodded, and he reached down and took her hand to tug her to her feet.

They walked back around the house and to the log near the forest, and Kurt helped her sit down upon it. She sat with her skirts bunched up in her hands, still trembling, blood oozing out from the cuts on her arm. Kurt noticed they hadn't started healing yet, and attributed it to the fact that she was much younger than the likes of Blaine and Sebastian. Therefore, as a precaution, he tore off a piece of her tattered skirt to wrap tightly around the wounds.

Once his work was done he sat beside her, silent for the time being. White cabbage butterflies fluttered around them, and succeeded in calming Marley down enough that Kurt felt like he could speak and get through to her.

"I understand," he said softly. "What it's like to lose someone you love."

Marley's eyes were still focused on the butterflies, and Kurt doubted she realized he was talking to her. Still, he kept on going, as if he were trying to reassure himself as well as her.

"When I was very young," he said, "I lost my mother. The things I do, the--the witchcraft... It isn't very well-received by humans. Most people think it's the Devil's work, though my mother was nothing but kind and gentle. She taught me everything she knew."

Marley drew up her legs and curled her arms around her knees, her eyes still focused in the distance. She had stopped watching the butterflies, though, and Kurt wondered if she was actually listening now.

"We didn't always live in Shady Hollow," he continued. "The town we lived in before was even more superstitious, if you can believe it. When they found out my mother was a witch, they..." His throat tightened. "They killed her. They burned her at the stake."

At last Marley turned to look at Kurt. Her wild eyes were piercing and terrible to behold, and suddenly it was Kurt's turn to look away. He stared at the butterflies rising and falling like puffs of cotton in the wind, weaving in and out of the tall grasses.

"We left immediately," Kurt continued, his voice low. "We moved to a different town, and we did everything we could to appear as normal as possible. I tried so hard to keep from practicing my craft, but..."

He took a deep breath and exhaled. "My magic is the only connection with my mother that I have left. When I cast my spells I feel her whispering to me, telling me what I should do, guiding me. It's like I wake up her spirit within me. I...I could never give that up, even in the face of death."

The story trailed off into silence. Kurt turned toward Marley at last, catching her eyes, blue meeting blue. He reached out to touch her hand.

"I am sorry," he said softly. "I did not mean to eclipse your grief with my own. I simply wish for you to know that you aren't alone. The desire to harm oneself-- I've experienced it as well. Sometimes it seems as though the only way to withstand the pain of the heart is to somehow cancel it with pain of the body, and I--"

Marley interrupted him by throwing her arms around his shoulders so suddenly it nearly knocked him backward. She clutched at him, her fingers digging hard into his shoulderblades, her breath ragged and trembling with silent sobs.

At first Kurt was awkward and stiff, uncertain in her embrace, but then his arms slowly came around to encircle her as well.

They held one another, their pain entwining and entangling between them, healing one another in the way that only broken people could.


Once Kurt was certain Marley would be fine on her own he went back into the inn, shutting himself in as night began to approach. He went back to Blaine's room and, tired of researching, started experimenting with his spellcasting supplies.

"Mother," he whispered as he put together a haphazard spell using all of the healing herbs he could think of. "Please help me. I'm not powerful enough, I... I need you."

Still he felt nothing. While he was in the midst of his second attempt he heard a groan from the other side of the room-- Blaine was stirring again.

Kurt knew that it was night and that Blaine would be feral, but he wasn't afraid. Blaine wasn't capable of hurting him right then, and even when he wasn't injured he hadn't shown any signs of repeating his previous behavior.

Not since he had tasted Kurt's blood that night in the barn. Not since he'd remembered the connection they shared, their meeting long ago. Just like on that day, Kurt approached Blaine as he was fallen and dying--and just like on that day, he knew what he had to do.

"You're hungry aren't you?" he murmured, walking toward the bed where Blaine lay. Blaine twisted his head on the mattress, groaning, his eyes glassy and far away.

Kurt reached for his dagger, pulling it from his bag and pressing it against the flesh of his arm. He dragged it across his skin just as Marley had been tearing at her own before, tearing the flawless white into rivulets of red.

"Here," he said softly, raising his arm to Blaine's lips. "Drink."

Blaine's yellow-red eyes were glazed over, unfocused as he weakly drank from Kurt's arm. He didn't bite, didn't suck, didn't take more than what was offered. Kurt shivered as the vampyr's tongue slid over his skin, lapping at the droplets of blood around the wound. He didn't understand the heat that pulsed through his body, the desire to just let Blaine continue to drink from him, to crawl over his body and sink his fangs deep into his neck, feast upon his lifeblood. He didn't understand much just then.

When he pulled away he returned immediately to his spellcasting, and a thought occurred to him. He turned the wound in his arm over the herbs he'd placed in the ash around the fireplace, and allowed a few drops of his blood to fall into the mixture. As soon as they did there was a surge of magic all around him, and Kurt gasped, his heart leaping into his throat.

This had to be it, he thought. This had to be the cure.

He knelt and quickly completed the spell, twisting the symbols in the ashes before mixing the components together to create a salve. Once it was complete he rushed back to Blaine's side and immediately applied the salve to his wounds, heart pounding all the while.

This has to be it, he thought over and over. This has to work, it simply has to...

Once the salve was applied Kurt fell down onto the chair beside Blaine's bed, watching the vampyr's body intently. He stared at the wounds, willing them to start closing, for the skin to heal and return to its former healthy state, for the rot and the blood to disappear.

Time drew on, and with every second that passed Kurt's heart sank.

"No," he said out loud. "No, no-- No, it has to work!"

Nothing was happening, and Kurt felt rage and despair climb within him, combining with the stress and exhaustion to set off a fire in his heart. He stood and cried out in anger, seizing the salve he'd made and flinging it to the ground where the container shattered into pieces.

"Damn it!" he shrieked. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

He started pacing the room, dragging his hands through his hair. "I've tried everything," he said loudly to himself. "I've done everything, I just--"

His anger twisted, redirecting itself, and all of a sudden he was shouting at Blaine, at the almost-corpse beside him.

"You bastard," he cried. "You absolute bastard-- You've taken everything, haven't you?"

He moved closer, in tears now, nearly hysterical.

"You took my innocence," he continued. " My innocence, my virginity, my trust. You've taken it all, and now, confound you--you've taken my heart. And I don't understand it-- I hate you, and yet all my thoughts are consumed by you, and now you lie there dying and there is nothing I can do-- And now I am to be saddled with your child, you son of a bitch!"

He found himself wandering toward the fireplace, toward the mantlepiece where the photographs were sitting and collecting dust. With a howl of misery he seized them and threw them to the ground as well, watching them shatter into pieces.

"You bastard," he said over and over as he threw each one to break upon the stone floor. "You bastard, you bastard--"

His anger was spent almost as quickly as it had arrived, and he collapsed upon the chair beside the fireplace--heartbroken, defeated, and utterly alone.

It had started to rain outside. Kurt sat there silently, listening to the pattering of the droplets on the walls and windows, and gradually let the sound soothe him to sleep.


The sheer exhaustion--both emotional and physical--had taken its toll at last, and Kurt had fallen into a deep sleep. At one point he wandered halfway into consciousness and thought he felt arms reach around him, lifting him up off the chair, but quickly dismissed it as a dream and drifted off again.

Hours passed, and eventually he stirred. As he slowly woke he realized he was no longer sitting in the chair, and instead lay upon a mattress--and believed wholeheartedly for a solid moment that he was back at home, that he hadn't returned to the vampyr's village at all, that he was waking up from what had to be a very vivid nightmare.

Then he opened his eyes and saw Blaine.

Immediately he jerked awake, sitting straight up from where he'd been lying on the bed that Blaine had occupied only hours before. He couldn't believe his eyes-- Blaine was alive, healed, and kneeling by his bedside like a lost puppy.

"Blaine?" he said out loud, unable to believe his eyes. "What-- How did you...?"

He realized a moment later that it was still night, and that Blaine was feral. Words were generally useless then, so Kurt saved his breath, looking down at Blaine and trying to make sense of what had happened.

My spell must have worked, he thought, and his heart began to pound as he realized what that meant.

His spell had worked. He had defeated dark magic all on his own--dark magic cast by Sebastian, no less. With nothing but his own power he had managed to heal a cursed body, mend its flesh and essentially bring it back to life.

It was overwhelming, and Kurt couldn't help the stunned laughter that left his lips. How ironic was it that his greatest moment of despair was what conjured up his greatest magical effort to date?

He felt the mattress give beside him and was torn from his thoughts when Blaine climbed from the floor onto the bed. Blaine put both hands on Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt stared at him, confused and uncertain what to expect. He felt his pulse quicken when Blaine pushed at them, easing Kurt down until he was lying flat on the mattress again.

"Sleep," said Blaine. "I will watch over you."

Kurt wasn't certain of the validity of that statement, but he felt tired enough to obey. The thrill of having achieved a new level of magic wasn't enough to combat how exhausted he was--still so much, even after having slept, and he could only chalk that up to his pregnancy--so he let his eyes close again, safe and secure in the knowledge that he was much more powerful than he'd ever thought he was.

And that no one could take that away.


Morning came, and Kurt woke slowly. He could smell the embers from the fire as it died, and hear the rattling of the windowpanes as the wind blew against them from outside. The windows were fogged up from the morning chill, but Kurt felt warm and secure-- He was in a bed, after all, carefully held in a pair of strong arms encircling him from behind.

Kurt moved carefully, twisting in Blaine's arms, which fell to loop loosely around his waist. He blinked, clearing his vision of sleep, and examined the vampyr's still-slumbering face, which was peaceful and beautiful. Kurt had never noticed how long Blaine's eyelashes were, and how black, and he found himself staring for a long moment before Blaine stirred beside him.

Two bright hazel eyes opened, looking up at Kurt. Blaine's fingers wandered from Kurt's waist to his face, touching the smooth skin briefly before trailing down his neck.

Kurt shivered.

"May I...?" Blaine murmured, his voice a low growl deep in his chest.

Kurt didn't have to ask what he needed. He merely nodded, lips pressed together, and rolled onto his back so Blaine could settle above him.

Blaine descended quickly, and Kurt gasped as the telltale sharp pain prickled through his neck and sent shivers throughout his entire body. Blaine drank slowly, carefully, taking only what was needed. Kurt was sure to keep absolutely still, staring up at the ceiling as Blaine fed upon him, trying to make sense of the way his body seemed to throb with heat--with need--more and more with every moment that passed.

Once Blaine was done he pulled away gently, sure to rub at his mouth to scrub away anything that might have lingered on his lips. He grabbed at the sheet then, and pressed it tightly against the puncture wounds at Kurt's throat to stop the bleeding.

"I've got it," Kurt insisted, taking the sheet from Blaine's hand.

Blaine looked over him with concern. "Do you feel ill? Shall I bring you something?"

"Some food please," said Kurt. "As much as you can find. I'm very hungry."

I am eating for two now, he thought, but didn't share that information with Blaine. He wasn't ready to tell him yet, not after everything that had happened. Not while he was still working out his feelings.

With a nod Blaine was off, disappearing outside the inn to forage for food.

Kurt was left there sitting on the bed feeling rather awkward, and he decided to get up and clean the room a little. It was all strangely domestic--Blaine going out to hunt and gather, and Kurt cleaning and organizing--and Kurt had no idea how his life had gotten to this point.

He packed away his spellcasting supplies and picked up the photographs that he'd thrown around the room the night before. They were all pictures of people he didn't recognize, but he still felt ashamed of himself for destroying them. Carefully he placed them back on the mantelpiece, thinking back to his outrage the previous night and how it compared to the strange sense of tranquility he now felt.

It was remarkable how different everything seemed. Now that he knew what kind of power he possessed-- what he was truly capable of--much of his fear had all but evaporated. The vampyrs, as he knew now, were not invincible. Blaine was no longer the terrifying beast who laid claim to him and would never let him go. He was his own now, and he felt liberated in a way he'd never experienced before.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Blaine walked in again, holding a skinned rabbit.

Kurt grimaced. "You know I need to cook that, don't you?"

"Quiet," Blaine muttered in return. "You ought to be grateful I caught it for you in the first place. Wildlife is scarce around these parts, especially with the weather growing cold."

"I ought to be grateful?" Kurt retorted, raising his eyebrows. "I happened to have saved your life last night, and I have yet to hear a single word of thanks. If you ask me, you should expect to bring me game any time I please."

Blaine's lip curled but he didn't argue. Instead he set the rabbit aside and worked on stoking a fresh fire to cook it with.

"Oh-- Might we go outdoors instead?" Kurt insisted. "I'm so tired of being cooped up in this awful place. And since I am no longer your prisoner, I can do as I please, correct?"

He stared pointedly at Blaine as if daring him to argue. Blaine straightened up, looking displeased and at odds with himself, and then he sighed.

"Very well," he grudgingly agreed. "We will cook in the pit outside, but you'll need to most of the work. I haven't cooked an animal in a hundred years."

Satisfied, Kurt beamed and followed him outdoors.


Things were strangely tranquil as they sat outside, slowly roasting the rabbit over the open fire. Kurt saw Sam leading Tina out of the hotel, holding her up as she struggled to walk. She seemed to be faring better than before, and Kurt found himself oddly relieved. Their numbers had thinned so much since the trip to the city--and as hesitant as he was to admit it, Kurt had come to care for the vampyrs in his own way.

He sat silently upon a large rock as he watched the rabbit cook, occasionally looking over at Blaine. The warm orange firelight lit up his features, softening them.

"Blaine?" Kurt said softly, certain to speak so that only the two of them could hear. "I must ask you..." He bit his lip, hesitating, then pressed on. "Does Sebastian still live?"

Blaine stared into the fire, his expression intense, and he said the word Kurt had been dreading to hear. "Yes." His eyes narrowed, filled with contempt. "Though I fought with all my might. We all did, but even with our combined strength, he was too much for us."

Kurt sighed, his heart heavy. "So he cannot be killed," he murmured, arms locked tightly about his knees as he curled up beside Blaine. "He must have learned some kind of black magic, or has joined forces with a witch who practices it. Doing so might have made him near invincible."

Blaine didn't reply. He looked angry, but also defeated, like something deep within him had broken. Kurt examined his face, contemplating his next question, and decided to just press on.

"It was him, wasn't it?" he said quietly. "He changed you into a vampyr. Is that why you wanted revenge?"

"It is," Blaine replied as he turned the stick the rabbit had been skewered upon, cooking it evenly. "But that is not the only reason. The harms he has done to me are great in number."

Kurt was quiet for a moment, just watching Blaine cook--and then he ventured, "Tell me."

At first it didn't seem as though Blaine were going to comply, but then he began to speak once more. His gaze was faraway, as if it were lost in a different time, hundreds of years before.

"I'm sure you have noticed," he began, "that turning someone into a vampyr binds them to you. It is why my own vampyrs are so close to me, and Sebastian's to him. I too had that bond with him, my maker. I stayed by his side for a long time after he turned me. I could not face my family in my new, monstrous state-- I had no choice but to follow him wherever he went."

Kurt listened intently, fascinated by the tale. At last, the mysteries surrounding Blaine were being revealed to him, and he was determined to hear it all.

"Sebastian is starved for power," Blaine continued, still turning the rabbit. "He lives and breathes for it. He, like all of us, is deeply wounded. I suppose he thought he could cover those wounds, fill them somehow, by harming and wounding others. He wanted total dominance of the city. He was indiscriminate in who he attacked. It was I who convinced him to limit those he harmed to criminals and undesirables, and to only make vampyrs out of those who were willing. He listened for a long time--but as you've learned, being a vampyr means losing your humanity over time... Having it corrode away as if poisoned."

"So he betrayed you?" Kurt asked softly, tentatively.

"It was inevitable," Blaine replied. "Over the course of a hundred years, even more, our relationship grew strained. It was close to my hundred and eighty-third year when Sebastian finally snapped, and he drove me out of the city. He abandoned me in the outskirts of a small village, and left me to starve to death in a cemetery."

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. For a moment he couldn't speak, awestruck as the final pieces of his memory clicked into place.

"That was when I found you." He spoke in a taut whisper. "When I was a child. I fed you my blood."

"You saved my life," Blaine murmured. "I recognized you, after I bit you for the first time, and that is why I did not harm you further after the night we took you. You and I formed a bond that day, so long ago-- You saved me, and then I reciprocated the act. Something tied us together then, you and I."

"Yes," Kurt replied breathlessly. "I remember now. As I left for home, I ran into some huntsmen in the woods. They--they tried to hurt me. I remember being so frightened I blocked it out in my memory, but now I know-- You came after me. You saved me from them."

"I did," Blaine affirmed. "And I will continue to lay waste to all who would harm you."

"You protected me from Sebastian," said Kurt, ignoring the food now. He didn't even feel hungry anymore. "And he harmed you so badly..."

"There is little I can do," Blaine interjected as he pulled the rabbit close to inspect it. "To undo the damage I have inflicted upon you, little sparrow. I wanted to release you, so that you may go on about your life and be rid of me. And yet..."

He turned to face Kurt at last, his large eyes searching, confused.

"You came back," he stated. "And I know not why."

Kurt was quiet, uncertain. His eyes fell down to the rabbit in Blaine's hands.

"Is it ready?" he asked, his voice even more high-pitched than usual.

"It should be," said Blaine as he lay the cooked rabbit down on a swath of tattered cloth. Kurt had added some herbs to it for taste, and Blaine leaned down to sniff at it, curious.

"You can have some," said Kurt with a smirk. "I know you normally devour your food while it's still half-alive, but I assure you this will go down just fine."

He took out his knife and portioned it out, then started to eat. Blaine watched him uncertainly as he ate considerably more than he said he would, eyebrows raised in amusement and bewilderment. Kurt didn't eat so much as feed, all but stuffing his face, suddenly ravenous.

The rabbit was almost gone before Kurt realized how much he'd been eating and looked up at Blaine contritely. "I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I suppose I was hungrier than I thought."

"I can fetch another," Blaine offered, but Kurt shook his head.

"This will do," he replied, then paused. "Thank you," he added.

"Kurt," said Blaine carefully, and it was damn near phenomenal to see him looking so uncertain,--shy even. "I must ask you... Why did you come back? You could have gone back to your village, to your family. You could have been rid of me forever."

"You're right," said Kurt simply. "But I had to come back."

"Why?"

Kurt opened his mouth, prepared to answer--when suddenly he heard rustling in the leaves behind him, a parting of the forest, and a man emerged from beyond. He was quite beaten, covered with bloody gashes and painful-looking bruises, and he staggered as he walked.

It was Puck.

Immediately the other vampyrs rushed forward to greet him, except for Blaine. Blaine held out an arm, shielding Kurt, and stood slowly to look over his battered comrade.

"Puck," he said tersely. "You're alive."

"Don't sound so damned pleased to see me," Puck replied, his tone harsh.

"What happened?" demanded Ryder, holding back Marley, who looked distraught. Puck looked over at the girl, his expression conflicted, then he turned to Blaine.

"My brother and Kitty are alive," he told his leader. "Sebastian still has them. I'm certain he means to use them to lure you back."

Marley made a desperate sound, wringing her hands. Ryder tightened his arm around her, looking uncertain. Kurt's eyes were fixed on Blaine, watching him as he wrestled with his decision.

"We should go back," said Kurt at last, surprising everyone. "Even if it is a trap, we can't simply leave them there."

Marley nodded emphatically. Everyone's eyes fell on Blaine, waiting for an answer.

"All right," he said at last. "But Kurt comes with us."

"What?" said Sam incredulously, and Blaine silenced with a look.

"He has more power than any of us," Blaine explained. "And we are clearly dealing with magic. None of us understand it but Kurt. So I need all of you to protect him if we are to save Jake and Kitty."

He turned toward Kurt. "Is this all right?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Kurt was quiet for a moment. Though Blaine didn't know it yet, Kurt had a child within his womb. He had more to lose than ever before--and that, perhaps, was what helped him make his decision. With more to live for, he had more courage than he'd ever had in his young life. He wasn't about to let anyone die on his account.

"I'll go," he said with a nod of his head, and Blaine nodded back.

"Will you tend to Puck's wounds?" Blaine requested. "We leave tomorrow when the sun rises." Kurt nodded, and Blaine turned once more to the group.

"If any one of you so much as sniffs Kurt without my permission," he announced, "I will tear your limbs asunder. Is that understood?"

He looked pointedly at Ryder, who nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"Very well," said Blaine. "We leave tomorrow. And this time?" His eyes darkened.

"This time, Sebastian will die."

--