--

They left at dawn. The air was cool and crisp, and Kurt held his cloak tightly around his shoulders as they walked through the morning chill. It was the exact same journey they'd taken before--only this time, Kurt wasn't a prisoner. It was an odd feeling, to retread the same ground in entirely different circumstances. Kurt wasn't marching toward some unknown doom, carrying the weight of dread in his heart-- Instead, all he had there was vengeance, and a desire to finish something that had started long ago, when Kurt had first found Blaine alone and starving in the cemetery. Kurt felt as if he were linked to Sebastian the same way he was to Blaine, and he wouldn't be able to feel rest--nor at peace with the birth of his baby--until the vampyr leader was dealt with.

Blaine was oddly doting during the journey. Kurt wasn't a fool; he knew the other man was attempting to make up for his previous cruelty, and though endearing, it would never be enough to heal the scars Blaine had left on Kurt's body and heart. Nothing would.

Indeed, the undercurrent of their relationship was one of turmoil, like a rushing stream buried beneath layers of dirt and rock, ever-present. Kurt wanted to stay above ground, though, so badly--for the sake of their child, and for his own sake as well, and thus far things had been progressing relatively well.

It wasn't until the eve of the first day of their journey when things began to stir underground once again. Kurt found a place to sleep well away from the other vampyrs, with Blaine close by as his guard. While he trusted Blaine not to attack him again, he still found himself restless--and realized with an unpleasant stir in his belly that his unease probably came from their proximity to the lair of the Unholy Trinity. Kurt wished the company would just keep moving; he wanted to be as far away from those witches as he could manage, and yet there was nothing he could do but try and sleep through the night.

Blaine was crouched beside him, alert and focused, looking around raptly as if certain an attacker would approach at any moment. It made Kurt nervous, and he tried not to pay attention to it. He rolled onto his side, gently resting a hand on his belly.

It'll be all right, little one, he thought. Soon this will all be over, and we'll go back home. I'll find a way we can live happily. I promise.

He fell asleep like that, cradled in grass and leaves with his hand placed protectively over his womb. A few hours passed before he stirred awake, feeling warmth crowding around him, and he squirmed over on to his back to find that Blaine had moved to lie beside him.

Kurt met his eyes, found them staring at him intensely, and blushed. Blaine reached out to touch Kurt's cheek, his cool fingers surprisingly gentle as they stroked the line of his cheekbone and jawline then trailed down his neck. His eyes were red and yellow, pupils blown and wild like they always were at night, and his body was hot and pulsing and so close.

He leaned in to nose at Kurt's neck, his tongue darting out to touch the skin, and Kurt shivered. Blaine lifted his body up off the ground and slid over Kurt, hovering above him on all fours, looking down at him with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Kurt found himself unable to move, lying still and silent as Blaine's hand began to explore, sliding down Kurt's chest to his side to his hip, slipping underneath the fabric of his tunic. His fingers touched bare flesh and Kurt gasped, his heart leaping into his throat to flutter there like a hummingbird.

"Blaine," he said, the word knotting up in his throat. It barely sounded like a word at all. Blaine leaned down to catch it with his mouth, kissing Kurt deeply, a possessive kiss that stole Kurt's breath away.

It felt amazing. Kurt felt surrounded by Blaine, his fierce and indomitable wolf, and felt utterly protected from the evil he could feel stirring in the woods around them. Blaine was nothing like Adam-- Adam was kind and gentle and touched Kurt like he might handle a piece of fine glass, tentative and terrified that he might slip and break something. Adam's love was the weight of a feather on Kurt's shoulder, soft and beautiful but easily blown away. Blaine's was tight and crushing but somehow comforting, like being swaddled, soothing like darkness could be when exhaustion set in. Blaine's love was like rope binding Kurt's wrists so tight they hurt, but absolving him of the need to move his hands at all, stripping him of all control to the point where he had no choice but to let go.

Kurt kissed back, surrendering for the moment, lost in the tangle of emotions he suddenly found himself caught in. Then Blaine was touching him again, his hand flat against the small of his back as he crushed their bodies together, and Kurt felt it--Blaine's hardness, hot and insistent, flush against him.

"Stop," Kurt said immediately.

Blaine did. He released Kurt, albeit slowly, looking down at him with barely restrained heat in his eyes. "Why?" he growled, his voice deep and rumbling in his throat. It made Kurt quake with desire.

"Because," Kurt said firmly, unwavering. "You granted yourself access to my body without my consent, just like before. You are not entitled to it and you never will be." He sat up, pushing against Blaine. "Get off of me."

There was a part of Kurt that still feared that Blaine wouldn't listen, that he would continue his attempted conquest, but it didn't happen. Blaine pulled himself off of Kurt and got to his feet, pacing, his nerves raw and wild with animal energy. Kurt watched him warily, wondering how much he could reason with Blaine when he was in his feral state.

"I told you," Blaine growled suddenly, startling Kurt. "That time in the barn-- I did not know who you were! If I had, I wouldn't have--"

"Does that really matter?" Kurt interjected angrily. "What if I hadn't been the child who saved you long ago? If I had been just another innocent villager, would you have continued to ravage me over and over again? Would you have torn me asunder and devoured me, like you did to my friend Rory?"

Kurt's words seemed to hit Blaine hard. He stared over at him, his expression unreadable--and then he rolled his neck muscles, his eyes flashing wild and red, and he turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Kurt called out at him, worried.

"To find something to kill," Blaine replied. "Go back to sleep."

Kurt considered arguing, but exhaustion won out and he obeyed, turning to lie on his side on the ground once again. He was asleep moments later.

--

Blaine still hadn't returned when Kurt woke up. He pulled himself to his feet and headed back to the vampyr's camp, and was surprised to see Blaine wasn't around there, either. He didn't ask any questions, and instead found a tree to sit under while he searched through his bag for food to have for breakfast.

He was halfway through an apple when he heard footsteps nearby, and saw Blaine walking toward him from a distance, carrying a pair of dead rabbits in one hand and what looked like a bunch of plants in the other. He approached Kurt and handed over the plants, which Kurt accepted, puzzled.

"Ingredients," Blaine mumbled. "For your spells."

Indeed, the bundle of plants contained specimens that Kurt hadn't seen growing anywhere in the seemingly barren woods around them, and he was both surprised and delighted. His eyes lit up as he looked over at Blaine, who seemed both embarrassed and distinctly proud of himself.

"Some of these are very rare," Kurt breathed. "Wherever did you find them?"

Blaine just shrugged. "Around," he replied. "Do you want me to cook these for you?" he added, gesturing to the rabbits.

"I'll take care of it," Kurt assured him. Blaine handed them over before going to join the other vampyrs, and Kurt accepted them, carefully hiding his smile.


They continued their journey to the city, and every time they stopped to rest Kurt focused on practicing his magic. He could feel it flowing within him more strongly than ever before, and he wondered if it was a result of his practice or another factor altogether. Regardless, he was able to complete spells he'd never mastered before, both offensive and defensive, and he began to feel more and more confident about their upcoming confrontation with Sebastian.

He had just managed to complete an invisibility spell--something he'd been working on for ages, since he first started practicing magic after his mother died--when he felt his stomach begin to stir with nausea. The scent of the herbs was starting to get to him, and he quicky stashed them away, grimacing as he clutched his belly.

"Calm down little one," he murmured, rubbing his swollen belly, which was growing a little more each day. He knew he was putting off telling Blaine about his pregnancy--for fear of distracting him more than anything else--but soon it would be impossible to hide.


The next day, they headed into the city.

It was just as vast and bustling as Kurt remembered, but this time, they didn't stop for any reason. They headed straight for cathedral, through the many winding roads that led them there, deep into the dark and grimy underbelly of the city.

They stopped just shy of the churchyard, and Kurt turned to the vampyrs, holding his satchel of herbs and spellbooks. He was anxious and uncertain, not yet entirely confident in his abilities, but nothing if not determined.

"I don't know how long the invisibility spell will hold," he explained. "I've only just perfected it. But it should help us sneak inside long enough to find Jake and Kitty and free them...if you'll all trust me."

"There's far more of them than of us," Puck warned, his voice dangerous. "If your little spell doesn't work, witch, then you'll kill us all--"

"Mind your tongue," Blaine snapped at him. "You knew what this would entail before we left our village. If you'd like to run off with your tail between your legs, though, then so be it."

Puck frowned but fell silent.

Kurt passed around the satchel, and each vampyr took a sprig from inside and ate it. Blaine was last, eyes intently focused on Kurt as he ate, entirely trusting in a way Kurt wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. It was a fierce, determined trust--more like loyalty than anything, and Kurt was once again reminded of a dog, endlessly steadfast at its master's side.

The magic began to take effect, slow and surreal, and Kurt was startled when the vampyrs around him vanished before his eyes. He looked around rapidly and gasped when he felt Blaine seize him by the hand and drag him toward the cathedral entrance.

It was bizarre. Kurt could feel Blaine, feel his hand and his solid presence beside him, hear his breath--and yet he couldn't see him, couldn't see himself either, and it was utterly jarring. He had to focus, though, especially as they entered the cathedral and found Sebastian near the altar again.

A broad, well-built young man was tied down across the altar, looking terrified. Sebastian circled him slowly, trailing one hand over the man's broad chest lazily as he smirked down at him.

"Please," the man was begging, sobbing. "I don't want to die--"

"Mm, yes," said Sebastian softly. "Beg for your life. It's music to my ears." He leaned down, licking a stripe over the man's taut abs.

"Should we strike now?" Kurt asked Blaine in a harsh whisper.

Blaine replied with a harsh "Shh!"

The young man continued to cry and beg for his life, which seemed to bore Sebastian more and more with each passing moment. Lazily, with the air of someone performing some mundane everyday task, Sebastian took a sword in hand from where it had been lying nearby and thrust it deep into the young man's chest. Blood spurted everywhere, covering Sebastian's face and clothes, and he licked it off absently before darting down to begin eating the young man in earnest.

Kurt was frozen on the spot, staring at the scene with morbid fascination, and he felt his stomach stir violently with nausea. He clutched his belly and let out a whimper, which came out far too loud-- Sebastian's head snapped up, and his eyes darted about for the source of the sound.

Kurt clapped his hand over his mouth, holding his breath, and Sebastian seemed to give up and leaned down to continue feeding on the corpse. Kurt and Blaine slowly advanced then, silent as they could manage, ready to attack the vampyr leader from behind. Kurt knew no one could hear his heartbeat but him, but it seemed to echo across the vaulted ceilings as it pounded relentlessly within his chest, making him dizzy. He wanted Blaine to strike, wanted it all to be over, but the moments dragged on horribly.

In fact, it seemed as though time had been suspended indefinitely. At first Kurt thought he was imagining things, that he only thought that the world had suddenly suspended itself, that time had turned agonizingly slow-- But then he realized that everything had literally frozen around him. He stumbled backward, stunned and confused, and his eyes searched the cathedral wildly before they landed on a familiar figure.

It was Santana. She was dressed in a red and black gown that was adorned with furs, and a string of vicious-looking talons looped around her neck. A small, mysterious smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked Kurt up and down.

"What are you doing here?" said Kurt, staring at her unblinkingly.

"Honestly," Santana drawled, walking towards the altar. "You had to have wondered where Sebastian was getting his black magic from. He couldn't have hurt Blaine like that on his own. Surely you figured that out for yourself?"

"You're friends with him."

Santana shrugged. "More like colleagues," she replied. The long train of her dress dragged upon the ground as she walked around the figures of Blaine and Sebastian, comically frozen in time upon the dais. Blaine was fully visible now, fangs bared as he raised a clawed hand at Sebastian's back. It was deeply surreal.

"So are you here to kill us?" said Kurt in a small voice, his tone guarded, his eyes locked on Santana as she glided around the scene. "To do Sebastian's work for him?"

"Now why would I do that?" Santana replied, raising an eyebrow at Kurt. "I hurt Blaine for Sebastian, certainly, but only because I owed him a favor. If I killed you and Blaine now, what would I get out of it?"

"I don't know," said Kurt hollowly. "I don't claim to understand how your kind thinks."

"My kind?" Santana threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, Kurt, dear. Don't you mean our kind?"

Kurt eyed her warily. "What are you talking about?"

"An invisibility spell is no simple task," Santana replied, walking over to Blaine's frozen figure and ruffling his hair playfully. "I was able to undo it, of course, but it still isn't the work of a novice-- Nor a spell completed by anyone who has good intentions."

"What do you mean?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "You aren't an innocent little white witch, Kurt, despite what you may think. You are capable of so much more, and we only wish for you to tap into that potential instead of squandering your gifts on little healing spells."

"I am not like you," said Kurt, much more loudly than he'd intended, and his voice reverberated off the cathedral walls. "You have a contract with the Devil-- You hurt people, kill people. Pain is the source of your power, debauchery, evil."

"I won't disagree," said Santana, walking toward him, and he took a step back instinctively. "But I don't think I'm mistaken when I say you came here to kill Sebastian-- To sneak up on him and murder him, no less. Hardly anything found in the contract of a white witch, hm?"

"He's evil!" Kurt argued. "He--"

"Shut up," Santana snapped, waving her hand, and all of a sudden Kurt found himself unable to speak. He stared wildly at her in fear as she advanced on him, backing him slowly up against the wall.

"You know," she muttered. "Perhaps I should kill you. Then Sebastian would owe me a favor. A big one too..."

Kurt, unable to speak, could only look upon her in terror as he was cornered like a prey animal, with no place left to run. Instinctively his hand shot down, placing itself on his belly, a protective gesture that came from something deep and primal within him--

--and Santana stopped.

Her eyes flickered downward at his hand, narrowed for a moment, and then widened. A smile spread upon her face.

"Well well," she murmured, then spoke up. "There-- See that? The sword."

It took Kurt a moment to realize he wasn't about to be killed, and his eyes followed her pointed finger to the bloody sword lying beside the half-eaten corpse of the young man on the altar.
Kurt rushed over to it and took it in hand. He looked over at Santana, uncertain.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, though his tone wasn't as firm as he would have liked.

"Nothing," Santana replied lightly. "I just think I'll try playing on the other side this time. Go on-- Take that sword, run him through. That is why you're here, is it not?"

Kurt hesitated, staring at Sebastian's frozen form. His expression was hideous and feral, his pale features covered in blood and flesh. It was easy to loathe him then--and yet Kurt couldn't bring himself to end his life, however wretched it was.

Santana was playing him, after all. He was certain of it.

He hesitated too long. Santana shrugged, and in a flash she disappeared--leaving the spell to crumble around her. Immediately Blaine and Sebastian were moving again, and Blaine's claws connected with Sebastian's flesh, causing the other vampyr to howl in pain and swerve around to face him.

The two vampyrs were locked in combat, focused only on causing one another the most pain as possible. Sebastian pinned Blaine down, fangs darting in to pierce his throat, and Blaine's cry of pain echoed among the rafters above.

For a few seconds, Kurt was frozen. He stood there helplessly, fingers clutched around the hilt of the sword-- And then he was moving, his motions mechanical like the limbs of a puppet controlled by strings, and he raised the blade high in the air above Sebastian's back.

He plunged it into his heart.

The vampyr leader went rigid, eyes bulging with shock as his blood splattered all over Blaine. Kurt, suddenly overcome with a rush of wild energy, yanked the blade from Sebastian's chest then swung it hard across his neck, decapitating him.

Sebastian's head fell to the ground and rolled, toppling off the edge of the dais and landing with a dull thud on the aisle floor. The rest of his body slumped down on top of Blaine, who grimaced in disgust and shoved it away before staring up at Kurt in shock.

Kurt was shaking. His flesh had gone white, splattered red with blood, and his eyes were wide and feral. It was as if Santana had planned this all along--and perhaps she had. Perhaps she'd known that killing Sebastian would trigger something ugly and violent in Kurt, would pump adrenaline through every inch of his body until he felt like an animal, teeth stained red from the hunt, whittled down to his base instincts and nothing more.

"Kurt..."

Blaine was speaking, on his feet and moving slowly toward where Kurt stood, hand outstretched. Kurt responded by dropping the sword to the ground, raising his hands in front of him and staring at them as if he'd never seen them before.

He could feel it. He'd let the darkness in.


"Mama, what's 'dark magic'?"

Elizabeth looked up from where she was writing in her spellbook, surprised. Reaching down, she took Kurt's tiny hand from where it was dragging a stick through the ashes on the firebed in front of them, and he pouted at her; he wanted to keep drawing, but she seemed serious.

"Dark magic is the opposite of what we do, Kurt," Elizabeth told him seriously, looking into his eyes. "It is formidable power, capable of doing the impossible. With dark magic, one can make their wildest dreams come true, to conquer their enemies, to become near invincible."

Kurt's smooth forehead wrinkled in confusion. "But isn't lots of power good?"

There was a long pause. Elizabeth sighed, and slid off her chair to kneel beside Kurt on the floor. She took the stick from his fingers and set it down, then took both of his hands into her own, looking at him earnestly.

"Kurt," she said softly. "Power has many forms. One form of power--the sort that dark witches weild--is used for hurting and subjugating others. It is a cruel power, a thankless power, but a great one. But then--then there is our power, Kurt. The magic we get from the Earth, that is given to us by nature, that we use for healing our loved ones. No one force is greater than the other, do you understand?"

Kurt just watched her with wide, trusting eyes, and he nodded slowly.

"Dark magic will give you power," Elizabeth continued. "But it will also leave you hollow inside. It will drain you of your heart, your humanity-- You must never let it, Kurt. You cannot let the darkness tempt you. Do you understand, my love?"

"Yes Mama," Kurt replied, and Elizabeth smiled. She leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.

"I believe in you," she whispered. "You will be a powerful witch someday, even more so than I. And you will do so by keeping your heart pure and free of sin. I believe this, Kurt... With all my heart and soul."

Kurt just smiled, then pointed at the discarded stick.

"May I draw some more?"


"Little sparrow," said Blaine softly, slowly approaching. "Kurt..."

"Stay away!" Kurt shrieked, backing up until he had nowhere left to go, pressing up against the wall. He held his hands in front of him, a feeble defense as he shook wildly like a frightened animal.

"You can't come near me," he continued in a harsh whisper, staring at Blaine in fear and desperation. "I-- I'll hurt you. I'll kill you. Oh--oh god..." He looked down at his bloodied hands once more. "I killed him. I killed someone. Mother forgive me--"

Blaine said nothing, and just continued to walk slowly toward Kurt. Kurt looked up at him again, crying out and throwing his hands in front of him once more, like a shield.

"Listen to my words!" Kurt cried shrilly when Blaine just wouldn't stop walking. "I-- I'm dangerous, I'm a killer, I let the darkness in-- Don't come closer. Are you not listening? Don't come--"

His pleas were cut short when Blaine's arms came around him, pulling him away from the wall and up against the vampyr's chest. Blaine held him strong, gripping him tightly, surrounding him like a cocoon. Kurt melted against him, his eyes focused on the corpses strewn about the dais, his entire body shaking.

"What am I going to do?" he said finally, his voice a frightened whisper. "I'm a dark witch now, aren't I? I-- I'm wicked, like Sebastian. Like you--"

"No," said Blaine adamantly, holding Kurt even tighter. "You are nothing like us, like me. Never say that. You are good and pure-- Don't look at them." He covered Kurt's eyes with his hand. "It's finished."

The air was suddenly full of the echoing sound of footsteps, and Blaine looked up to see his vampyrs entering the cathedral from the passage beyond. They looked battle-worn and bloody, and Jake and Kitty were among them.

Puck walked in front of the rest, his eyes wide as he took in the sight before him.

"You finished him," he said in awe. "Sebastian's dead-- We've won."

"Let's eat him," Tina snarled, taking a step forward, and a few of the younger vampyrs followed.

"Wait!" barked Blaine, stopping them in their tracks. "Stay where you are." Kurt had made a frightened sound in his arms, and he wasn't about to exacerbate things. He kept his arms around the trembling young man, shielding him from the violence around them as he looked upon his coven.

"This place is ours now," he announced, his voice carrying throughout the cathedral. The vampyrs responded with resounding cries of victory, terrible to hear. Kurt looked up from where he'd been hiding his face in Blaine's shoulder, and saw that Blaine's vampyrs had the corpses of Sebastian's group in tow, baring them like game about to be skinned and boned and devoured.

"Let this be our dining hall," Blaine continued, waving a hand over the cathedral. "Tonight we feast, in celebration of our victory!"

There were more shouts, more monstrous cries, and Kurt suddenly felt sick. He didn't want to be anywhere near this, to witness the vampyrs gorging themselves on their slaughtered prizes. Suddenly, terribly, he felt a pang of homesickness, of warm hearths and kind words and comfort, of a human world he never really belonged to anyway.

He sagged against Blaine, and Blaine responded by hefting him up in strong arms, holding him bridal-style. As the vampyrs began to noisily feast and revel around them, Blaine carried Kurt away and into the passage beyond, heading for Dalton Academy.


Kurt was silent the entire way. He knew he ought to have been wary--he had no idea where Blaine was taking him, after all--but he couldn't muster the energy. Instead he simply held on until their dark and dimly lit surroundings turned into richly painted walls and ornate furniture, the likes of which Kurt had never seen in his life.

"Where are we?" he said at last, his voice raspy and strange to his own ears.

"Dalton Academy," Blaine replied. "I attended this school when I was a young human."

The prospect of learning more about Blaine's human years was a fascinating one, but also one for another time. Blaine took Kurt into the dormitories--all decrepit but nonetheless beautiful, holding on to their timelessness--and lowered him down at last on one of the beds.

"I must go oversee the others," Blaine murmured, brushing his hand over Kurt's forehead and through his hair. "But I will come back at nightfall to protect you. Rest now. You will be safe here, I swear it."

"Blaine," Kurt murmured suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Am I ruined?"

Blaine paused then, and sighed heavily.

"No," he said firmly. "I..." His expression grew guilty. "I once feared I had ruined you, little sparrow. But you did not give me that power, nor do you give it to anyone. You...you are far stronger than I."

With that, he got up to leave--but just like before, when Blaine had lay dying and had reached out to Kurt in childlike desperation, Kurt grabbed him before he could move away.

"Don't go," Kurt mumbled. "I have to tell you something."

"It can wait," said Blaine, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and he moved Kurt's hand away.

"No," Kurt interjected weakly.

Blaine was on his way out, though, heading toward the door to wrangle his pack, and Kurt couldn't let him go. He sat up and called out as soon as Blaine reached the door.

"I'm having your child!"

Blaine's hand froze on the doorknob, and this time no spell was needed to still him.
"What?"

Kurt's hands knotted around thwe tattered sheets, and he repeated himself, his voice much smaller. "I-- I'm having your child. I'm pregnant."

Slowly, hesitantly, he looked up to see Blaine's face. The expression he saw there was strange-- It didn't look like Blaine at all. It looked like someone nearly two hundred years younger, a teenager grappling with life, a leaf in the wind. It looked undeniably, inextricably human.

"Is that why you came back?" Blaine asked after a long period of silence, his tone strangely vulnerable.

"I had to," Kurt replied. "My village doesn't know of my status as a witch, and thus my--my anatomy. I had to leave or I'd likely suffer the same fate as my mother." He swallowed. "I'd be burned at the stake."

Finally Blaine moved away from the door and headed once more to the bed. Slowly he reached out, taking Kurt's hand in his own and holding it firmly. It wasn't a gentle touch, but Blaine wasn't gentle. He was firm and protective and unwavering, and Kurt could see a new resolve forming in his beautiful eyes.

"You will remain here," Blaine said at last. "You'll be safer in the city, and there are doctors here. I trust in your magic, but..." He trailed off and bit his lip for a moment, silent, and Kurt was unsure if he was finished speaking or not. Then he continued, his voice and eyes faraway, oddly vulnerable.

"I heard you that night," he said at last.

Kurt squinted at him, uncertain, waiting for an explanation.

"As I lay dying," Blaine clarified. "Under the spell that wicked witch had cast. You were angry, throwing things about. You called me a bastard."

Kurt blushed; Blaine smirked.

"I remember now," Blaine continued. "I remember you had said you were with child, though my addled mind failed to grasp your words. I also remember one more thing."

Blaine found Kurt's eyes, and gripped his hand more tightly.

"You said I had taken your heart."

Kurt looked away, embarrassed, but Blaine reached out to press two fingers beneath his chin and turn his head back toward him. Blaine leaned in, inquisitive, looking again like a curious little dog.

"I don't know," Kurt said truthfully. "I hate what you've done to me." His voice raised slowly as he gained confidence and anger. "I hate that I cannot be at home with my friends and family. I hate that this child is a product of the worst night of my entire existence, and that I may recall that night every time I look upon its face. I hate that its father is a monstrous creature who becomes a wild animal at nightfall, and that its father would sooner eat the child than raise it--"

Blaine brought his hand away. "Kurt..."

"--and I hate, most of all, that I don't hate you. I should, by all accounts, but I do not." Kurt sighed heavily, rapidly deflating. "Make of that what you will."

Blaine was quiet, and Kurt assumed he had no words to say. Suddenly he was frustrated.

"You may leave now," he said hollowly. "I must rest. It has been a trying day."

Once again Blaine got up to leave, heading for the door-- And once again, he paused, turning back to the boy lying prone now in the bed--the terribly small, terribly vulnerable human that he had forced into his world. The one that was now his complete responsibility.

"I will care for you," Blaine said firmly. "I will protect you and our child with all of my strength. I will do everything I can to make you comfortable here. That...that is the least I can do to atone for what I've done to you."

"Suddenly you've found your humanity?" Kurt murmured, his eyes fixed on the wall across from him.

"No," Blaine replied simply. "It was shown to me."

Then he turned the doorknob at last, and left the room.

--