--

It began just like any other day. The vampyrs had scattered to rest, exhausted from the night's activities, only to be woken up abruptly by the sound of yelling. Some of them groaned, rolled over and tried to fall back asleep, but the other had no such luck. They could only retreat to somewhere quieter, trying to block out the shouting that reverberated throughout the hollow walls of Dalton.

"I said I wanted duck, Blaine! This is chicken!"

"Duck is much harder to come by, the butcher didn't sell--"

"Then go out and kill one for me! You're a vampyr, are you not?"

"There aren't any ducks about this time of year! They'll have flown south!"

"Don't raise your voice at me--"

"You raised yours first!"

The fight ended as they usually did-- With Kurt wailing and sobbing about his swollen feet and aching back, and Blaine storming out of the room and snarling at whatever unlucky soul managed to stray into his path.

"What are you looking at?" This time, it was Tina.

"Nothing!" she said quickly. "I was just--"

"Go out and hunt me a duck!" he roared at her. "Take Sam with you! Do not return until you have one dead, do you understand me?"

As usual, she obeyed without comment. Blaine's temper was at an all-time high, and his coven didn't dare provoke him, especially when they were all trapped indoors as the winter raged outside. It was thanks to Blaine that they had a warm place to live, after all--but each and every one would be lying if they'd said they weren't frustrated with his recent behavior.

"All because of that damn human," Puck was heard muttering one particularly frigid night as he devored a dead rat, huddled in blankets for warmth with his brother, who jabbed him in the ribs in reply.

"Don't let him hear you say that!" he hissed. "He'll take out your throat."

The winter months slowly gave way to spring, and the vampyrs were finally able to roam the streets freely, to be outdoors instead of cooped up inside Dalton. The cabin fever seemed to have gotten to Kurt as well, who emerged from his room one dewy morning, cradling his large round belly.

"I'm going out," he announced.

"Not without me you're not," Blaine growled in reply, rushing to his side.

"Honestly," Kurt snapped. "It's just for a bit of shopping. I'll be fine. I don't need you nipping at my heels like a hound every second of every day--"

Kitty rolled her eyes. "Here we go again," she muttered.

However, surprisingly, Blaine did not retort angrily this time. He seemed to bite back on his rage quite firmly, looking intently at Kurt's face as he searched for the right words to say.

"I have something to show you," he said at last. "Will you allow it?"

Kurt seemed just as surprised as the other vampyrs. He nodded slowly, his look skeptical.

"All right," he agreed slowly. "And I insist you buy me a loaf of cinnamon bread from the baker for breakfast. I'm famished..."

Blaine offered him his hand and he took it, and they left-- and all at the same time the vampyrs breathed an audible sigh of relief.


Once outside, Kurt didn't hesitate to breathe in the fresh spring air. It had killed him to be stuck indoors, surrounded by stone walls far removed from nature, and he felt life rush back into him instantly. It lifted his spirits significantly, and he found himself walking with a bounce in his step, humming joyfully as he explored the marketplace.

Blaine stood by, hands in his pockets as he looked around constantly for danger, the very picture of an alert guard dog. Kurt didn't seem to mind at all anymore, his mood having taken a definite upturn. There was no telling when it would fall again, though, so Blaine decided to usher him along.

"It's just this way," he said, guilding Kurt with a hand on his back to a building south of the marketplace.

Kurt squinted through the sunlight to see a vast theater rise into view, comparable in size to the abandoned cathedral where they now resided. His heartbeat quickened as they approached and the distant sound of singing reached his ears, high and melodic and beautiful.

"It couldn't be," he whispered, enthralled, and hurried inside the theater to catch a glimpse of the singer.

A small, thin woman with blonde hair and an angelic voice stood on the stage, practicing her lines. Kurt gasped at the sight of her, his eyes wide as he studied her every move.

"It's April Rhodes," he whispered as he and Blaine hid in the shadows, careful to spy from a distance. "Her songs are known all over the world, even in Shady Hollow. I've always dreamed of singing like her, ever since I was a child..."

Blaine shushed him gently, and they both fell silent as they continued to watch the woman sing. Kurt mouthed the lyrics along with her, drumming his fingers on the railing of the balcony that he and Blaine stood upon, clearly enraptured. Blaine's eyes were on Kurt and Kurt alone, watching with some fascination as the human boy was swept up by the music, looking more beautiful than Blaine had ever seen him before.

After one more song April finished, grousing about her voice being tired and how badly she wanted a drink. The spell broken, Kurt finally turned to look at Blaine.

"How did you know she'd be here?" he asked.

"I didn't," Blaine confessed. "But you'd expressed interest in visiting the opera house before, I recall."

"Yes," said Kurt softly, eyes darting away. "I've dreamed of singing here my whole life, but... Well, I never thought I'd ever leave Shady Hollow, and now..."

He trailed off. Blaine was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on his forlorn expression-- and then, abruptly, he took Kurt roughly by the hand and tugged him away from the balcony to the main floor. Kurt was startled, but followed along, curious to see what Blaine had in store for him next.

"Blaine!" he hissed as he was pulled up onto the stage. "We'll be caught!"

"Do you honestly think anyone would reprimand a vampyr?" Blaine snorted, then frowned when he saw Kurt's look. "It'll be quick."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well all right, what is your plan then?"

Blaine was moving away, though, circling the piano to have a seat behind it. Kurt watched, taken aback, as beautiful music began to encircle them, spiralling out through the theater walls--a song Kurt knew. It was like a dream; Kurt's feet were moving of their own accord, taking him to the very center of the stage, and words were leaving his lips before he even realized he'd started singing.

It was an old hymn, one that Kurt had sang in church many times. The song left his lips effortlessly as it always did, but it sounded so different. The theater made his voice tower and soar, and Kurt felt as though he'd sprouted wings--and if he closed his eyes he could see a crowd before him, packing every seat in the house, each and every audience member hanging on to his every breath.

And then the song ended, and Kurt spiralled back down to earth.

"Stunning," he heard Blaine say, and Kurt finally opened his eyes and turned to look at him.

"I didn't realize," Kurt commented softly, "that you were so musically inclined."

"You live for more than two hundred years, you learn many things," said Blaine, stepping out from behind the piano. "And I too had a passion for music. I once sang in this very theater as well."

Kurt just nodded, unable to think of a reply. He always felt strange when Blaine discussed his life before he was turned. It was as if he was looking at a frail glass sculpture that would shatter if he breathed too hard on it.

Instead, Kurt looked back out at the theater around them, taking in the beautifully painting ceiling. "I simply can't wait to tell Adam about this when I go home," he sighed.

Immediately Blaine's look soured. "We should leave," he said brusquely, and moved past Kurt to start heading down the aisle toward the doors. His demeanor had changed so quickly that Kurt almost wondered if his mood swings were becoming contagious.

Nonetheless he followed, his footsteps lighter than air and his heart so heavy he feared he'd plunge straight through the ground anyway. Part of him was elated, and part was confused--but most of him simply ached for home.


Once they returned to Dalton Kurt went straight to his bedchamber, exhausted. He napped for a few hours, then headed for the fireplace once he woke to mix himself an anti-nausea agent. The amount of medicinal salves and teas he'd been making lately had reached uncharted heights, and he was running out of herbs and spell components more quickly than ever. Still, it was worth it to ease the symptoms of his pregnancy, which just kept worsening as the months dragged on.

"You are taking quite the toll on me, little one," Kurt muttered, rubbing his belly as he sipped his tea.

He sat there for a long time, just enjoying the peace and quiet before he became restless and decided to go for a walk through the halls of the academy. It never ceased to amaze him just how beautiful Dalton was, and he discovered something new every time he decided to explore it.

There was one particular feature that he'd grown the most fond of, however, and he headed there now, walking slowly until he reached what was once the senior common room. There on the far wall were mounted paintings of past students, and Kurt drew close to examine one subject in particular.

It had taken him a moment the first time he saw the picture, but it was unmistakably Blaine. His face was youthful and glowing, and he was wearing the Dalton uniform and a proud smile--the sort of smile that spoke of promise, of hope, of dreams that had long since crumbled and died.

Kurt thought about earlier that day, about his own dream that had been fulfilled so quickly and so easily that it hardly seemed a memory. It had been thanks to Blaine, he thought. Blaine had taken him there, had swept him up on the stage, had played beautiful music for him. Blaine, the vampyr, the killer, the ruiner.

The monster.

It had been many months since the terrible night in the barn, and every day it grew more distant. It was easy to think of it as a nightmare, even while the proof of its reality grew in his body--and Kurt wondered whether his mind was still straining to try to protect him, or if he really was that much closer to healing.

Forgive him suddenly appeared in his mind, placed there by the sight of the sweet boy in the painting, and Kurt tore his eyes away.

He didn't think he could forgive Blaine, but maybe they could find something in the middle of the crazed passion and furious tension between them, something that would prove beneficial to them and their baby. The strange on-and-off nature of their relationship needed to change, and for the first time Kurt believed that it could. Earlier that day Blaine had proved something to him, had opened up a door Kurt had thought locked and buried, and hope for the future was shining through.

Kurt left the common room then, determined to find Blaine and talk to him.
The sun was setting as he walked down the halls of Dalton toward the cathedral, and with every step Kurt found himself feeling more and more hopeful. Maybe Blaine had changed for good, and that his humanity was finally unearthed. Maybe the monster was finally gone.

He made the trip through the catacombs and reached the entrance to the cathedral, and all at once his hope came crashing down, shattering at his feet.

Blaine and the other vampyrs were gathered near the altar, feasting on a dead human. Blaine had torn out his throat and was devouring it, blood and gore dripping and falling off his face in grisly chunks, his eyes bright and wild like a rabid animal.

Kurt felt his stomach turn and he shook his head, his entire body trembling.

"How could you?" he said softly.

It was the faintest whisper, hardly audible over the sound of ripping flesh around them, but Blaine's keen senses picked it up. The vampyr leader looked up from his meal, and upon noticing Kurt he dropped what he was eating and rose to his feet.

"You killed a human," Kurt was saying, slowly backing away from the scene. "How could you?"

"Kurt--" Blaine said, reaching toward him. "Little sparrow, you must understand, he was a criminal, a murderer--"

"And so are you!" Kurt cried. "I thought you had changed, but--but you're still a monster!"

With that he turned away and ran through the passageway back to Dalton. He could hear Blaine calling after him, then heard his footsteps gaining ground behind him. Kurt quickened his pace, desperate to put distance between them, but his human legs were no match for Blaine's.

In just a few moments he was caught, pulled back toward Blaine, and he screamed and struggled.

"Let me go!" he cried. "Let me-- Oooh--"

He felt a cramp in his belly and clutched it, doubling over. Blaine moved to his side instantly, alarmed.

"Let me take you the rest of the way," he insisted, and Kurt couldn't argue.

Blaine scooped him up and carried him the through the catacombs, then laid him down on one of the ornate couches in Dalton's meeting room.

Kurt slowly calmed down, but he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He felt so ashamed of himself--ashamed that he'd thought Blaine had somehow miraculously turned human, and that the discovery that he hadn't was taking such an emotional toll on him.

"Kurt," Blaine was saying, lowering himself onto his knees beside the couch. For someone with such a commanding and authoritative presence, he seemed small and terrified right then.

"It's nothing," Kurt mumbled. "Go back to your kinsmen. Leave me alone."

"No," said Blaine suddenly, raising his voice. "No, we must speak of this--"

"Don't shout at me," Kurt snapped, sitting up and supporting himself on one hand so he could glare at Blaine. "You are the one at fault, for behaving like a barbarian after I thought you'd changed--"

"Changed?" Blaine repeated, incredulous. "What the hell are you talking about? I am a vampyr, Kurt, and so I shall be until the end of time. I cannot change. You know this!"

"Yes you can! You can stop killing humans, you can eat animals like you did before!"

"I've told you, we have a contract with the people of the city--"

"Then let's leave the city!"

"You already are, aren't you?"

Kurt stopped then. He was on his feet now, holding his belly as he argued with Blaine. His eyes narrowed at Blaine's last statement, confused.

"What?"

"When our child is born," said Blaine, his tone unsteady. "You are returning to your village, are you not? As you said before, in the opera house."

Kurt just stared at him, stunned. "You can't have thought I would stay," he said in a low voice.

"My kinsmen and I are not welcome in the Hollow," Blaine continued. "You know this. Now more than ever before. I will never see my child, or--or you, not ever again."

The admittance was so startling, so unexpected, that Kurt felt as if he'd been knocked backward. He had no idea how to reply. He was quiet for a while, watching Blaine pace about angrily in front of him, and then felt his own anger start to grow.

"You thought I'd stay," he said, his voice slowly rising. "With you. So you may devour human flesh before my child--"

"I can stop, we can eat animals instead, I'll tell the others--"

"--and behave like a wild beast after nightfall--"

"You know I cannot help that--"

"--and when my child is grown, will you tell her how she was conceived, Blaine? Will you tell her?"

It was the word 'her' more than ever that caused them both to fall silent then. Blaine looked stricken, and even covered in blood as he was, he was suddenly far less fearsome.

And then he said it.

"I'm sorry."

It was Kurt's turn to be stunned then, but his expression was carefully neutral. More than anything, he just felt exhausted.

"Say it again," Kurt demanded.

"I'm sorry," Blaine continued, taking a step forward. "You are beautiful and brilliant and incredible, and not a day goes by I don't regret what I took from you, and my god, I am so sorry--"

"Prove it," said Kurt. "Prove to me you can change. That you can come close to being a father. Do everything you can to show me you can be human, Blaine, and that you are worth any ounce of forgiveness that I might show you. Prove to me that you are worthy of my heart."

Tears filled his eyes and he shook his head, so overcome with emotion he was certain his legs would soon cease to carry him.

"Prove it to me," he repeated, his voice a low whisper.

He turned away then and headed back to his bedchamber, reeling, and he felt Blaine's eyes on him until he was within its confines. Once he was laid in bed he allowed himself to weep, and cried until sleep finally stole over him once again, carrying him blissfully away.

--

The next morning, Kurt went to see Elliot.

The witch doctor was at first surprised when he walked through the door, not expecting him for another few weeks. He then quickly sense Kurt's distress and welcomed him inside for a cup of tea.

Kurt stared into the hot liquid, at the pallid face reflected there that looked nothing like his own.

"Well," said Elliot at last. "I do not need magic to know something is troubling you. What has brought you to me this morning, lovely Kurt?"

As usual, Elliot's playful demeanor was soothing. Kurt sighed and finally took a sip of his tea--which tasted wonderful, spices exploding on his tongue--and then began to speak.

"Blaine is a vampyr," he said bluntly. "You knew that, right?"

"Yes," said Elliot solemnly. "And I know he has done something terrible to you, though I'd never go so far as to try and learn what."

"I appreciate your restraint," Kurt remarked. "But it's all right. I... He put this baby within me, and I did not want nor ask for it."

Elliot simply nodded, listening.

"And now," Kurt continued, "now I must contend with it. I must contend with the fact that I cannot return home, lest the people of the village learn I'm a witch. I must contend with the fact that the child within me was conceived in an act of violence I can never forget. And I must contend with--"

He cut himself off, his lips tightening.

"With what?" Elliot pressed him gently.

The root of Kurt's distress, the thing that had been haunting him for months, was finally rising to the surface. He clutched his mug with both hands, his palms burning from the heat, grounding him.

"I killed someone," he said finally, his words quivering in the chilly air.

If Elliot was experiencing any reaction to that statement, he kept it well hidden. He merely sat across from Kurt and regarded him, listening silently and intently.

"He was evil," Kurt went on. "He killed and tortured people. He was the reason Blaine became a vampyr, the reason he lost his humanity. Sebastian--"

"Wait," said Elliot at last. "You killed Sebastian? The leader of the vampyrs? That was you?"

Kurt was surprised by his tone and turned to look at him, only to see that Elliot looked nothing short of awestruck. He nodded slowly, uncertain.

"Kurt, that is incredible," Elliot assured him. "People have been trying to kill him for years-- Warriors, armies even."

"That doesn't matter," said Kurt, uncomfortable. "I did a terrible thing, and now I fear my magic might be tainted. I'm no better than the witches who give themselves over to black magic, to the Devil. I let the darkness in, and now-- What does that mean for me? For my child?"

He was in considerable distress, so Elliot shelved whatever questions he had and leaned forward to gently take the mug of tea from Kurt's hands and place it on the table beside them. Then he took Kurt's hands in both of his, holding them firmly and reassuringly.

"Kurt," he said carefully. "How do you feel about killing Sebastian?"

Kurt frowned, confused. "Terrible," he replied. "Wrought with remorse."

"Then you are not a dark witch," said Elliot simply. "A dark witch would never feel guilt for something like that. You have a kind heart, Kurt Hummel. I sensed it the moment I first saw you. Frankly, Blaine is lucky he is allowed to be within several miles of you. And your child is lucky as well, blessed to have someone so pure and just as its parent."

Kurt just stared at him, speechless.

"As for Blaine," Elliot continued. "Do you wish to forgive him?"

"I don't know," said Kurt. "He has changed so much, just for my sake. He has made so many sacrifices for my safety and comfort, and he brought me to you."

"No," said Elliot firmly. "That isn't how it works, lovely."

Kurt was silent, watching Elliot and hanging onto every word he said. He felt like he were gripping the edge of a steep cliff, and that Elliot was tugging him upward to safetly but one slip would send him plummeting downward.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"If you forgive him," said Elliot, "it must be for you. You owe him nothing. If you choose to forgive, it must only be to cleanse your own heart, to free yourself. Do you understand, lovely?"

"I think so," Kurt replied.

Elliot released his hands slowly and smiled.


Later that evening Kurt was struck with a craving, so he insisted upon going out into the markets. As usual Blaine accompanied him, ever the watchdog, though there was still palpable tension between them.

Kurt didn't speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary, trapped in his thoughts about his conflicted feelings and Elliot's words--colliding and mixing with his own in his brain, repeating over and over.

'If you forgive him, it must be for you.'

'Prove to me that you are worthy of my heart.'

'Cleanse your own heart, free yourself'--

"Thank you," he told the vendor as he bought the food he wanted, and then the shops around them began to close up for the night. He hadn't realized it was so late.

It occurred to him suddenly-- Blaine would be turning feral soon.

"Let's go back," he told Blaine quickly, and they left the marketplace quickly. To return to the cathedral, however, they needed to take the back roads of the city, through some truly unsavory areas.

Indeed, it was much more frightening at night. Kurt walked quickly, his heart pounding in his throat. He knew Blaine would protect him if anything happened, but he wasn't ready to trust him with that. Anger still boiled in his heart, poisoning him, making him foolish.

That was, perhaps, why it was so easy for the man to grab him.

Kurt found himself pulled suddenly against the body of a stranger, who held a sharp blade to his throat. He trembled, not daring to struggle, and grimaced as he smelled the mugger's putrid breath.

"Give me all you've got," the man growled at Blaine. "Or I'll cut the bitch's throat and kill the baby, too."

Kurt scrambled to find something, some kind of magic he could use to defend himself, but he was terrified. The threat made against his baby chilled his blood, and he froze up against the man holding him, completely helpless.

It seemed, however, that he didn't have to fear for long. Blaine approached slowly, stepping out from the shadows, revealing a feral vampyr standing before the feeble human who held Kurt in his grasp.

Immediately, the man let him go and ran.

It took Kurt a moment to get his bearings, his hands falling immediately to the bump of his belly as if worried it had disappeared. He realized after a moment that he was standing alone, and that Blaine had rushed past him and was chasing after the man.

Kurt immediately broke into a run, dread spreading through every inch of his body. Blaine was going to kill that man, he realized. He was going to rip him apart and eat him, even after Kurt had told him to stop, to quiet the monster, to reach for his humanity as far as he could--

His feet slapped on the cold pavement as he ran, clutching his belly, his lungs burning from the exertion. Finally he reached a dead end--and sure enough, he found Blaine crouched over the fallen man.

"Please," the man was sobbing. "I just needed money, I-- I'm starving-- I'm sorry, please don't kill me, please--"

For a long moment it seemed as though the words were falling on deaf ears. Blaine stared down at the man with murderous intent, his eyes red and wild, his fangs bared. He lifted one clawed hand, his chest heaving with fury and bloodlust, preparing to slash it across the man's throat--

"Blaine!"

Kurt cried out to him from where he stood just a few yards away.

"Blaine, please," he begged. "Don't."

Something in Kurt's voice told Blaine where words could not: If you kill that man, it's over. His earlier demands were taut in the air, hanging above Blaine's head, struggling to permeate his feral mind.

Prove it to me. Prove to me that you are worthy of my heart.

Kurt watched him silently, his eyes suddenly piercing and resolute. Blaine took one look at him--at his eyes, his frail form, the child inside him--and slowly lowered his claws.

He grabbed the terrified man by the collar and shook him.

"Go," he growled, and shoved him away.

The man didn't need telling twice. He ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, his body tearing past Kurt, whose eyes were fixed on Blaine.

Blaine had gotten to his feet, his spine rigid in his feral state, his limbs shaking. Kurt, however, felt no fear. He walked slowly toward Blaine, cradling his round belly, feeling a rush of gratitude and what felt alarmingly like hope.

"Let's go home," he said.

--