--

The scent of straw flooded Kurt's nostrils, making him sneeze. He jerked upward, legs sliding through dirt and dust as he looked around frantically. His head ached, and there was dried blood caked around his lip and nose. His eyes stung with tears.

What had happened? He struggled to fill in the blanks in his mind, and it was like a sickness rising up from his stomach, sticking in his throat-- Them. They'd found them outside the village, They'd killed Rory, They'd eaten--

Kurt stifled a sob, sniffing as he took in his surroundings. He was in what looked like the inside of a barn, stuffy from thick wooden walls and clumps of straw and a single lamp that filled the space with ugly yellow-brown light. It smelled terrible, like death-- Kurt's eyes fell on a dark corner of the room as his sight adjusted, and he sucked in a gasp and nearly gagged as a carcass came into view. It had to be a cow or something, all clumps of meat and leathery skin-- He had no fear of dead flesh from his own spells, but this was different. It was so close. His eyes kept frantically searching, and he could see bones around it, and they couldn't have all been the bones of livestock, some looked all too close to human--

Panicking, he scrambled to his feet and tried the door, only to find it firmly locked. He struggled with it until he caught the sound of voices in the distance-- It's Them, he realized, and he knew he ought to be silent, to try and think of something, a spell perhaps, but the smell-- He had to get away from it. The room was small, dark, closing around him.

Then he heard footsteps.

Fear dropped solid and icy in the pit of his stomach. As the footsteps drew closer he could hear muffled voices as well--the voices of men, low and rumbling, and he caught the word 'virgin' several times before a voice that was startling close by said, "This one is mine."

The door opened suddenly and Kurt all but sprung away. His feet slipped in the straw on the ground as he backed away as far as he could, and he threw out a hand to steady himself on a nearby table as he stumbled. His hand brushed cold metal and he looked down-- Tools. A saw was there, and a hammer, and several wicked-looking instruments that were stained brown with old blood-- He let out a terrified sob, jerking his hand back as if he'd been burned.

His eyes moved to the doorway, and fell on the man that stood framed in it.

Something about him was vaguely familiar, but Kurt couldn't place it, nor could his frantic mind dwell upon it for more than a second. All he saw was a stranger-- A man with olive skin and ropey muscles, compact and boyish and rigid in a way that made Kurt think of a young coyote, with wild black hair and eyes that had been clearly smudged around the edges with charcoal. He wore no shirt, and Kurt could see vicious-looking scars and crudely drawn tattoos all over chest. Everything about him hearkened to something utterly removed from civilization, something primal, something lawless.

Kurt had backed away until he was pressed against the wall. The man--the vampyr--took a step toward him and Kurt's hand darted down, seizing one of the metal instruments and brandishing it in front of him.

"Don't come any closer!" he cried, his voice cracking. He thought of Rory, of what those vile creatures did to him, and anger swooped in to tangle up with the horror and grief.

The vampyr's mouth curled into a smile. He seemed to find genuine amusement in Kurt's defiance, but his body seemed to pulse with wild energy beneath the marred skin. The anger that had risen in Kurt was cowering under the sheer terror that was fast consuming him.

"Are you going to cut me, virgin?" the vampyr said, and Kurt couldn't help but notice how young he sounded.

"I will if you come near me," Kurt countered, and hated how his voice cracked with fear. Even with his witchcraft, he was powerless; his magic was for healing, not for harm. He didn't even think he could use the vile sharp thing in his hands, even if he really had to.

The vampyr took a step forward, and Kurt shrieked, brandishing the weapon. "Get back! Get back, you horrid beast--"

As quickly as Kurt could take a breath the vampyr moved, and was suddenly very solidly in front of him. He had no time to process how that could have happened-- The instrument was plucked from his hand and thrown across the room, and Kurt could feel the monster's hot breath against his neck. He registered moments later that his hands were empty--that they were all he had left.

So he fought. He threw out his hands, trying to hit the vampyr, scratch him, anything, and with every strike it sank in more and more that he was fighting for his life. As easily as he had disarmed Kurt, however, the vampyr seized both of the boy's wrists in a grip that seemed to saw them down to the bone, holding him fast.

Up close, Kurt could see the vampyr's eyes. They were yellow, bright and unnatural, surrounded by a ring of red. And they were looking at him with unmistakable hunger.

I'm going to die. The knowledge spread through him like that dropping, strangely cold feeling that came right before passing out, and for a moment he thought he might. A second later he wished he would.

"Please don't kill me," he whispered, dizzy with fear.

Wickedly, horribly, the vampyr grinned. "Oh no, you sweet thing," he all but purred. "I'm not going to kill you." And with that unimaginable strength he pushed Kurt up against the table, pressing his hips against him. Kurt felt a hardness there, and nearly swooned with the sick wave of horror that washed over him anew as the vampyr shoved him onto his back.

It was a nightmare. It had to be. For a moment Kurt was absolutely convinced that it was, that he'd wake to his father gently shaking him, to the soft sunlight pouring through their window and the smell of brewing tea-- But then the vampyr was prying at the clingy set of trousers he wore, tugging crudely at the edge of his soaked tunic, and Kurt let out a ragged scream and kicked as hard as he could. He jerked away from the vampire's hand, throwing back his own to seize the first tool he could reach-- He stabbed it forward, burying the blade deep into the vampyr's left cheek.

Blood spurted crudely all over Kurt's hand and he recoiled, disgusted. The vampyr let out a howl of pain, and backhanded Kurt so hard across the face that it sent him rolling off the table to the ground below. Groaning, Kurt flopped onto his belly and feebly started to crawl toward the door, even as his vision blurred and swam before him. He could barely make it a few inches before his ankle was seized in the flesh-cutting grip that had bruised his wrists before, and he shrieked as he was dragged back across the room and back into the vampyr's clutches.

"No," Kurt groaned, reeling as he was pushed onto his back. Blood from the vampyr's wound splashed over his face and he sobbed pitifully, trying to squirm away as the vampyr began cutting at his clothes with same blade Kurt had stabbed him with. "No... Please--"

Strangely, the vampyr stopped. It took Kurt a moment to realize it wasn't because of his pleas; the vampyr had cut his clothes and was now pushing apart his legs, and undoubtedly puzzling over what he found there.

"Huh," he heard the vampyr say in such a cavalier fashion that Kurt almost let out a hysterical laugh.

Instead, he used the momentary distraction to kick out as hard as he could and twist away from the vampyr's grasp. He managed to crawl an inch away, and reached out feebly to try and grab one of the fallen tools. A saw lay just out of reach; if he could just stretch his arm a little farther...

"No!" he screamed as he was seized and dragged back again. The vampyr grabbed his legs and wrenched them apart, and Kurt retaliated, scratching and hitting with all his might. Before then he'd been terrified of death-- Now, he felt like he'd rather be dead than be raped by this animal.

"Let me go--" He clawed at the vampyr's face, aiming for his eyes. His fingernail managed to scrape underneath one of them, and heard the vampyr growl before his hair was suddenly seized in a vise-like grip and his head was slammed brutally against the ground.

The blow made Kurt's entire world spin. For a moment, everything was like black sand dotting his vision, opening and closing as he went in and out of consciousness. Sticky blood caked in his hair, slick on his forehead and clumped down the side of his face, and he let out a ragged, pitiful moan. His fingers opened and closed on the floor beside him, and he stared at them, curiously numb.

The vampyr maneuvered his now-limp body, turning him so he was flat on his back, and Kurt stared at the swimming spots on the ceiling as his captor moved between his legs. There was a terrible moment of silence, a mockery of peace, and then it happened.

There was no preparation, no warning. The vampyr pushed inside him with brutal force, and Kurt was dragged forcibly from where he'd settled into listless acceptance, forced to acutely endure the sudden violation of his body. It was pain like he'd never imagined, like a red hot fire-iron jostling up his insides, and he let out a howl of agony as the vampyr pinned down his wrists and started to move.

For a moment Kurt tried to struggle, tried to twist away away away, but any effort to escape just made everything hurt more. The vampyr thrust inside him over and over, pushing his too-thick length where Kurt had never even touched himself before, even as the tight opening seemed to try to force him back out. The vampyr just thrust in harder, faster, and then something happened--something tore. Kurt could feel it, stretching and breaking and oh God it hurt, it hurt so badly, he was going to break he was going to split open--

"G-god, stop," Kurt sobbed. "Please stop--"

A filthy hand released Kurt's wrist and instead darted down to clap over his mouth, muffling his cries. Kurt could only stare up in horrified silence at the vampyr's face, which had become nothing short of demonic. The scent of Kurt's virgin blood seemed to drive the creature on top of him into a frenzy; his eyes darkened until they were almost entirely black, and his teeth--already pointed, already vicious-looking--grew longer and sharper. Kurt was allowed only a split second of dread before the vampyr's head darted down and those teeth were suddenly buried in the flesh of his neck.

The vampire's fingers had slipped a little from around Kurt's mouth, so his agonized wail could pierce the stagnant air around them. The pain of the bite was so severe that Kurt suddenly longed for the vampyr's teeth to sink in just a little bit more, tear through his jugular, end it.

But it didn't end. Kurt was still stubbornly alive, even as the vampyr finished inside him, teeth still firmly fastened to the side of his neck. When the vampyr finally drew away Kurt could still feel the weight of him, pushing him down somewhere from which he could never climb back up. In just a few short moments, he had gone from something pure and alive, breathing and hopeful, to a twisted bloody miserable thing with no will to live.

Things were still, quiet. Kurt parted his lips, felt them crack. Tears streaked his face. There was blood everywhere. His blood.

"K-kill." The word was the tail end of a breath, agonizing. He tried again. "Kill me. Kill...me."

The vampyr was standing, pulling on his trousers, licking the remains of Kurt's blood from his lips. The air about him was suddenly considerably less feral, but Kurt couldn't sense the change. He was rapidly losing consciousness--limp, half-naked and utterly at the vampyr's disposal.

"No," he heard the vampyr say. "Not yet."

Kurt's eyes closed. "Please," he whispered. "Please..." He had no idea what he was begging for anymore. Maybe he was begging for his father's forgiveness. I'm sorry, Father. You were only trying to protect me. I'll never leave again. Now let's go inside, and I'll make dinner...

He heard footsteps and felt a heavy blanket draped over his prone form, and then he faded away.

--

There was a terrible moment right after Kurt woke up when he was certain he'd find himself in his own bed--up with the sunrise, as usual, ready to begin the day and greet whatever adventures awaited. Then the pain returned, slowly spreading through every inch of his body, and he let out a pitiful sob as the memories came rushing back. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, as if doing so would keep reality from sinking in, but it was like a poison slithering through his veins. He could feel the vampyr on top of him, thrusting inside, could feel his breath, could see his horrible red eyes wide and unblinking and wild with animalistic pleasure--

Kurt forced his eyes open and could see sunlight slipping through the cracks in the barn walls, the tiny window near the ceiling. Slowly he sat up and stifled a cry--pain burned ruthlessly his body, between his thighs, which were sticky with blood. He was at once confused and terrified; what had that creature done to him? Had he hurt him irreparably? Kurt had scarcely any idea what things were supposed to be like down there, but he knew they weren't supposed to feel so broken.

He had no time to think about it, nor time to nurse the wound that still burned on the side of his neck (the vampyr's teeth had tore into it, feasting, like a ravenous dog)-- There was a loud banging noise as the door to the barn swung open, and Kurt shrank, determined to become as small as possible. Terror gripped and pulled him in every direction, and he could only stare with eyes like a frightened animal's as a figure approached from the distance.

It wasn't the man from the night before. A young girl stood before him with long, tangled dark hair and wild blue eyes, carrying a basket and a bucket of water. Her dress swished around her legs as she walked toward him and flopped down to her knees, and Kurt couldn't help but notice how lovely the fabric was. It was the sort of dress a wealthy woman might have once worn, but tattered and torn and covered in filth.

The girl didn't speak. She reached into the bucket and pulled out a ragged cloth, thrusting it in Kurt's direction. He recoiled automatically, but realized quickly that she simply wanted to wash him. Too sore to protest, he parted the blanket he wore and let her drag the wet cloth over his aching, ruined body.

He had to admit it felt good to be cleansed of all the blood and grime, but the pain was unbearable when she got to the wound on his throat. Crying out, he shoved her away and shrank as close to the wall as he could, crying softly as he clutched at the torn flesh of his neck. The girl just knelt there and stared at him, her eyes piercing, eerily silent.

Then she left, and Kurt was alone again.

He drifted. Hours passed, or maybe days; he couldn't be sure. At one point he searched through the basket the girl had brought and found food--an apple, and a piece of bread so rotted and crusted with mold that he dropped it immediately after picking it up. He didn't have much of an appetite after that, but he forced the apple down anyway; it was bitter and slightly mushy, but it went down to sit like a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach.

Some time later the door opened again. Once more Kurt shrank against the wall, heart heavy with dread, and he let out a strangled gasp as he saw two men approaching. One was tall and broad, wild-looking with his hair crudely shaven into a mohawk--and the other was exactly who he'd dreaded it would be.

Though he looked different in the light, it was unmistakably the vampyr from the night before. Gone, though, was his stripped-down, wild appearance; he wore a loose-fitting shirt that hid all the scars and markings, and his hair had been tamed somehow, swept over sleekly to the side of his head. His more civilized demeanor, however, did nothing to quell Kurt's terror.

"Stay away!" Kurt shrieked, clutching his throat and scrambling back as far back as he could.

The man with the mohawk looked over at the other vampyr as if waiting for cues. His companion sighed and moved closer, looking mildly irritated.

"I won't hurt you," he said tersely, and reached out a hand. "Just come here--"

"To hell with you!" Kurt cried, and flung the empty basket in the vampyr's direction. He dodged it easily, and it flew across the barn to land with a clatter near the door. The man with the mohawk watched its descent, looking mildly impressed.

The curly-haired vampyr was quiet for a moment, then gestured to the lump of bread on the ground. "We brought you human food," he said almost defensively. "Why didn't you eat it?"

That just got the bread thrown at him as well. "To hell with your rotten food!" Kurt screamed, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls of the barn.

The vampyr with the mohawk sighed. "I will take him. He'll sooner claw your eyes out than let you touch him, Blaine."

With a sigh of his own the curly-haired vampyr--Blaine--shrugged before tossing a wad of fabric in Kurt's direction. Confused, Kurt caught it and unfolded it. It was a simple tunic, not unlike the one Kurt had worn before, but there weren't any trousers with it. He frowned.

Blaine turned and left, leaving Kurt alone with the other vampyr, who immediately advanced upon him. Instantly Kurt shrank away in revulsion, still sick from the memories that Blaine's presence had stirred up within him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," he said vehemently. The man merely shrugged.

"You'd rather stay here in the barn then?" he said nonchalantly. "So be it."

That made Kurt fall silent for the moment, eyes wet with frustrated tears. He looked down at the tunic in his arms and made a scoffing sound.

"There isn't anything for me to wear underneath," he said sharply, turning pink.

"That's how Blaine wanted it," said the man with a smirk. "I'm Puck, by the way."

"I don't care who you are," Kurt snapped, his cheeks burning. "Turn around so I can get dressed."

Puck rolled his eyes but complied. Kurt fought not to cry out as he moved his aching body, unwilling to let on how hurt he still was, though the others undoubtedly already knew. They didn't care, though, did they? They were incapable of feeling, as the vampyr Blaine had proven so brutally the night before. Kurt felt hollow as he tugged the flimsy tunic over his head, and kept the hood up to maintain some illusion of modesty as the fabric fell just past the middle of his thighs.

Once Kurt was dressed Puck wasted no time in hefting him up off the floor into his arms, cradling him like a child. Kurt let out an indignant squeak and tried to keep himself as covered as possible, eyes burning with humilated tears. He had no choice but to let the vampyr carry him out of the barn--but despite his reluctance, he was eager to leave that hellish place behind.

The smell of fresh air was like the first breath of life, and Kurt inhaled deeply as they stepped outside, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light. What greeted them had once been a town, and was now broken down into crumbled pieces like a cemetary--splintered wooden monoliths that had once been houses, lovingly built and maintained, now scavenged like carcasses. People--vampyrs--were all around, quiet as they stared at the human in Puck's arms. Kurt could see the dark-haired girl from before crouching near the well, staring at him with her wild blue eyes as she devoured a dead bird like a hungry cat. Her mouth was smeared with blood and feathers, and Kurt looked away in disgust, fixing his eyes determinedly forward at their destination.

The building had once been an inn, and looked to be in considerably better shape than the houses around it. Puck carried Kurt through the double doors and up a rickety staircase, and Kurt's nostrils were suddenly filled with the scent of burning wood and ash. They entered a dimly lit room with a fireplace, which was alight with dancing flames that seemed curiously merry despite the bleak atmosphere that permeated the place. Kurt was utterly bewildered as he found himself lowered into a bed with considerable care, laid upon moth-eaten sheets and a dilapidated mattress.

His sore muscles were screaming, but he found the bed to be surprisingly soft. It was certainly a far cry from the filthy floor of the barn, and Kurt couldn't imagine what he could have done to warrant such a drastic change. Puck turned and walked away before he had a chance to ask, and he was left alone again.

He'd been certain he'd be left to his own devices, but then the door opened again and in walked Blaine. Immediately Kurt cringed away from him, fearing the worst, but Blaine made no attempt to attack him or touch him at all. Instead, he moved to sit on the chair near the fire, several feet away from the bed. There was silence, and Kurt suddenly couldn't take it anymore.

"What do you want?" he blurted out. "Why did you bring me here?"

"To the inn?" Blaine replied lightly. "I assumed it would be more comfortable for you than the barn. Perhaps I was wrong?"

"Of course not," Kurt snapped, venemous. "You'll have to pardon my confusion on the matter. You didn't seem to care much for my comfort last night, after all."

Something flashed in Blaine's eyes that looked remarkably like guilt, and Kurt felt his confusion grow. The vampyr stood and began pacing the room, looking as though he was choosing his words very carefully. Kurt watched him impatiently, fingers curling around the sheets so tightly it hurt.

"I assume you know why we took you?" said Blaine finally, stopping in front of the fire with his hands crossed behind his back. Kurt's lips tightened, and then he nodded.

"Tell me."

"I violated the covenant," Kurt said tensely. "I was out after hours on the night of the feeding."

"Right," said Blaine, nodding, and he started pacing again. Kurt felt tendrils of fear curl around his heart, cold and unforgiving.

"Are you going to kill me?" he said in a hushed voice.

Blaine paused and looked at him. "No."

"Why not?"

Kurt flinched as Blaine turned and walked toward him, stopping just short of the bed and looking down at him curiously.

"You begged for death last night," said Blaine lightly. "Do you still wish for it?"

"What you did to me was unspeakable," said Kurt coldly, eyes narrowing.

"That isn't an answer."

Kurt found himself filled with the desire to hit Blaine as hard as he could, but he didn't dare act on it. Instead, he fixed the vampyr with a murderous look. "No," he said finally, his voice faltering. "I don't want to die. I want to go home."

"That isn't an option," said Blaine, turning away from him at last. Kurt made a frustrated sound.

"What, then?" he cried. "You wish to keep me here as your entertainment, then? Something to--to use whenever you will, then cast aside when you grow bored with me?"

Blaine seemed to think for a moment, and his calm demeanor was driving Kurt to insanity. Kurt wanted to scream, to rip something apart, destroy something-- He wanted all the world to know the pain he felt, wanted everyone else to feel it too, just so he could rid himself of some of it.

Instead, he just stared at Blaine as the other man moved to sit in the chair again. His hands folded in his lap, his expression pensive, and he was unrecognizable as the monster who had attacked Kurt so brutally the night before.

He looked human.

"What do you know of vampyrs, Kurt?" he asked finally.

Kurt frowned, puzzled. "You are monsters," he said frankly. "You feast upon the living, and you have no remorse. You feel nothing. Everything I've read about you is true."

"It is," said Blaine. "To an extent. Do I perhaps seem different to you?"

"That remains to be seen," said Kurt coldly.

Blaine sighed. "This is because nightfall brings a change in us," he explained carefully. "We become feral, and every inch the monsters you've read about in your legends. We surrender to our base urges, you see, and--"

"Is that supposed to be some sort of excuse?" Kurt cried, indignant. "Do you have any idea what you took from me?"

"I took your virginity," said Blaine plainly. "Virgin blood is like ambrosia to us. It would have driven any of us into a frenzy."

"I don't forgive you," said Kurt abruptly, and the disgust he felt at Blaine's words was written all over his face. "I will never forgive you."

For a moment, Blaine almost looked offended. Then he stood, shrugging, his expression aloof. "Very well," he sighed. "It is a good thing, then, that I do not desire your forgiveness."

"You're a pig," Kurt snapped.

"And you are at my mercy," said Blaine, and he was suddenly very close. Kurt gasped and positively shrank, trembling as memories from the night before rushed back to him. Blaine seemed to notice this, smirking slightly as he observed Kurt's shivering form.

"That shirt looks lovely on you," he remarked. "I knew it would."

"What do you want?" Kurt whispered. "Please just tell me what you want from me."

Blaine moved away then, walking back toward the fireplace. There were photographs on the mantle, and he reached out to straighten them idly. "I will take you into the city," he answered at last. "I have business there, and you are to accompany me."

"Why?" Kurt demanded, ignoring the way his heart lifted at the mention of the city.

A dark look took over Blaine's face. "Myself and my fellow villagers-- You think we're savage, yes? Animals?"

Kurt's eyes flashed. "Yes."

"Than you know nothing of the vampyrs in the city," said Blaine, dragging a hand through his hair.
"Their leader will not even consider granting us an audience unless we present him with an offering."

What little excitement Kurt had about going to the city was instantly crushed. His blood ran cold. "And that's me," he said in a flat voice. "I'm the offering."

"That's right," said Blaine, and turned with a devilish smirk. Kurt wanted to tear it off his face.

His business concluded, the leader of the vampyrs crossed the room, heading for the door. Before he left, though, he turned to give Kurt one last pointed look.

"Whatever you do," he warned, "do not go outdoors after dark. You saw what we become when night falls. What I become."

"Since when do you have any concern for me?" Kurt said bitterly.

"I don't," Blaine insisted. "As our offering, it would do us well for you to be in one piece. I doubt you'd rather be in several, so heed my warning if you know what's good for you."

With that he went through the door, leaving Kurt alone and in tears, more desperately confused than ever before.

--