--

Kurt walked up the stairs toward the front door, carrying his basket of flowers. He used to gather them for mother when he was a child, he thought fondly, and thought of her smile when he handed her extra ones as a present, just because they were pretty.

When he got inside. though, mother and father weren't there. Instead there stood the wolf, looking much bigger than before, its eyes wild and hungry.

"What big eyes you have," said Kurt, shrinking away and trembling.

"The better to see you with, my dear," the wolf growled, the sound echoing through the small cottage.

"What big ears you have..."

The wolf's shadow seemed to grow, and suddenly Kurt could see something in the far corner of the room-- It looked like a body, fallen and shrunken, with long wavy brown hair caked with blood. The arm was outstretched, holding a half-eaten apple that rolled onto the dusty floor.

"The better to hear you with, my dear."

The kettle on the stove started whistling, the shrill sound filling the room as Kurt continued to back away. There was blood on the wolf's muzzle, mixing with saliva and dripping down in thick, ropey droplets around Kurt's feet.

"What big teeth you have!" Kurt cried.

Suddenly the wolf was on top of him, pinning him to the ground--but it wasn't a wolf anymore. It was Blaine, looking down at him with insane yellow eyes, surrounded by red, the eyes of a madman.

"The better to eat you with, my dear" he growled, tearing at Kurt's clothes. Kurt could only lie there and scream as Blaine pushed open his legs and violated him, tearing him from the inside. When Kurt looked up again he saw those eyes, those insane yellow eyes that burned red, the eyes of a madman-- And the teeth, the vicious fangs that grew and grew as the kettle continued whistling--

--descending upon him, tearing into his flesh, ripping his head off--


Kurt woke up with a scream that tore his throat in two. He sprang up from the bed so violently it twisted something in his shoulder, and he gasped and clutched at it as it flared with pain. His body was trembling, soaked in sweat, and he struggled to get his breathing under control.

"Bad dream?"

The voice from the other side of the room startled him so badly he nearly screamed again. Instead his head jerked up and he looked over to see none other than Blaine, seated in the chair next to the fireplace.

In an instant memories tore across Kurt's mind-- Of the ashes, the smoke, the way his lungs had burned as he ran, the way it had felt when he finally escaped this hell... Of Adam's kind eyes, of the way he'd been so convinced he was about to see home again-- And then of Blaine, tossing Adam about like a doll, breaking him like a child might break a toy it no longer loved, giving Kurt an ultimatum without speaking a word...

A kettle was over the fire, whistling. Blaine removed it gingerly and poured Kurt a cup of tea, and Kurt could only watch the surreal scene from his bed, struggling to reconcile the image with that of the ruthless monster that had nearly killed his friend.

Blaine walked across the room and handed Kurt the tea. It didn't smell like tea at all, really--more like a jumble of different herbs, strange-smelling and undefinable. He stared down at it, at the reflection of a tired and broken boy looking back at him, and barely recognized it. Something boiled up within him, something much hotter than the warm cup in his hands, burning his insides on the way up-- And suddenly he was throwing the teacup against the wall, splattering the hot liquid everywhere.

Startled but amused, Blaine crossed his arms and watched Kurt with mild interest. "Are you more of a coffee person?" he remarked dryly.

"Shut up," said Kurt in a low voice. "Shut your horrible mouth." He got to his feet, unwilling to lie on the bed any longer, turning his back on Blaine.

"Ooh, we are mad," said Blaine, unfolding his arms and walking closer. "Do you love him, little sparrow?"

"I have a name," Kurt snapped. He was so angry it seemed to twist up every part of him, wringing him into something thin and pointed. "It's Kurt."

"Well then Kurt," said Blaine in a silky voice, sliding closer until he was inches away from where Kurt was standing. "Tell me. Do you love him? Does he make your heart race, your blood boil..."

Suddenly Kurt could feel Blaine behind him, feel his breath against the back of his neck, hot and hungry. The better to eat you with, my dear. Something was stroking up his hip and across to his front, tickling him, and he realized it was Blaine's fingers. With one hand Blaine reached around to apply pressure to Kurt's chest, dragging him close, and the other hand quite suddenly slid down between Kurt's legs, slipping underneath the flimsy tunic he wore.

"Does he make you wet?" Blaine growled deep in Kurt's ear.

His fingers prodded, searched, and Kurt felt his entire body tense up. Terrible memories of their first encounter locked him in place, filled him with terror, kept him immobile as Blaine's fingers explored his bare skin. For a moment it seemed as though Blaine were quite ready to violate Kurt again, to slide his fingers where he'd thrust and ripped and torn before, to claim him for the second time--

Then Kurt spun around in his arms, reached back, and punched Blaine hard in the face.

The vampyr reeled and stumbled backward, caught by surprise. His hands left Kurt's body and instead reached up to brush blood from where his lower lip had split from the blow. He examined it, disbelieving, and a wolfish grin spread slowly over his face.

"You have some fight in you," he murmured. "Not what I expected."

"You aren't what I expected either," said Kurt throatily, his chest heaving with rage. "You told me vampyrs become monsters at nightfall. But you--you're always a monster."

Without another word Kurt turned and left the room, vibrating with anger. He didn't care where he was going or what he was leaving behind-- He just needed to be as far away from Blaine as possible.


Outside the inn the sunlight had returned, and the village was quiet. Most of the vampyrs slept during the day, Kurt had learned, which left the village desolate and quiet but for the clusters of vampyrs keeping watch along the perimeter.

Kurt made his way to the large well near the town square and sat on the edge of it, staring down at the dirty water within. After a while he felt someone approaching, and was surprised to see Marley shuffling toward him in her beautiful dress, her hands twisting nervously like always. She sat down next to him and was completely silent, offering some kind of solidarity Kurt couldn't understand right then, but he appreciated it all the same.

They sat together in silence for a long time. Then Marley reached over, grabbing Kurt's hand abruptly, like a child might when dragging their parents to see the picture they'd drawn. Kurt allowed himself to be tugged up, and Marley kept her hold on his hand as she led him across the village to one of the old, decaying houses near the woods.

The house was so decrepit that its roof was sloped in, threatening to collapse. Kurt followed Marley inside with some trepidation, and stepped around fallen beams and rubble as they made their way to what Kurt assumed to be a bedroom.

Inside a young man with shaggy brown hair and a square jaw sat propped up in the bed, being nursed by Kitty. Puck's younger brother Jake was there as well--and Kurt could see that his wounds from the fight were already substantially healed, though still very painful-looking. Marley led Kurt over to the bedside, and he gasped when he saw bloodstained bandages covering the bedridden young man's eyes.

The spell. The enchanted ash must have gotten into his eyes...

"What's he doing here?" Jake said gruffly, looking from Marley to Kurt.

Marley just pointed from Kurt to the boy on the bed, and Kurt realized something for the first time. She can't speak.

"You can heal him?" Kitty asked Kurt, looking hesitant. "It's your smoke that did this to him in the first place." She glanced at Jake. "We vampyrs normally heal very quickly, but his recovery has been delayed. Did you intend to blind him?"

"No," said Kurt quickly, moving close to the boy's bedside. "Trust me. If I'd intended to hurt any of you, the spell would have rebounded upon me threefold. It is the law of my kind. Though I have to admit I've considered breaking them more than once since you all brought me here."

"We didn't bring you here," Jake interjected vehemently. "That's all Blaine's doing. You're his human, after all."

Kurt glared. "I am not his anything. Nor will I ever be."

"Who's there?" the boy in the bed said suddenly, looking anxious. "A human?"

"A witch," Kitty replied, touching the boy's arm. "He's here to heal you, Ryder, with his magic. And he will not harm you, or we'll tear him to pieces. Isn't that right, Jake?"

Jake didn't reply, but he crossed his arms over his broad chest, looking surly. Marley walked behind him and put her arms around his waist, pressing against his back, her expression vacant.

"All right," said Kurt, rubbing his hands together. "I'm going to need a fire stoked. Marley, I want you to gather me some nightshade. I saw some near the edge of the forest. And I'll need a kettle boiling."

"Go," Jake told Marley softly, squeezing her briefly with one arm and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. She nodded and left immediately, her skirts swirling about her. Jake watched her leave then fixed his eyes upon Kurt, who was busily getting a fire going.

"Why are you helping us?" he demanded, eying Kurt suspiciously. "You despise us, do you not?"

"I despise Blaine," Kurt replied crisply. "And your ways. But I hardly think any of you chose your circumstances, just as I have not chosen mine."

Marley returned with the herbs and Kurt snatched them up, placing them within the kettle. He'd managed to get a small fire going, and he gathered up the old ash around the bottom of the fireplace, tracing in it with his fingers.

"What is he doing?" he heard Ryder ask, and Kitty shushed him.

Kurt felt anxious being watched, but managed to fall into the trance with some intense concentration. The vampyrs around him stared in awed silence as he performed the spell, drawing pictures in the ash as he enchanted the herbs. As always memories of his mother expanded to all corners of his mind, surrounding it like warm arms, drawing him into a world of magic.

And as always, leaving that world was as painful as a wound.

The trance broken, Kurt got to his feet and removed the kettle from the fire. Marley handed him a cup and he poured a generous amount of the herbal tea within before handing it to Kitty.

"Here," she told Ryder, and her voice sounded much softer than usual. Kurt hadn't been able to tell at first, but it was clear now that her prickly disposition was mostly surface-level.
Ryder took the tea reluctantly, and Kurt noticed that there was blood all over his fingers. Kitty caught his look of surprised and pursed her lips as Ryder drank.

"He tried to scratch his eyes out," she informed Kurt under her breath.

Standing there in that broken house surrounded by damaged people, Kurt finally began to feel the complicated weight of the vampyrs' world press down on him. He waited until Ryder had emptied the cup then took it back, suddenly anxious.

"Did it work?" Jake demanded.

"His sight should return sometime tonight," Kurt explained. "I've healed broken bones in less time, but eyes are-- I mean, it was a powerful spell. That I used on him."

Guilt spilled over him, ugly and hot, and suddenly he needed to leave. He set down the cup and turned around, exiting before the others could say another word to him. Why do I feel guilty? he demanded of himself as he walked across the village square. I was trying to escape these horrible people. And they are horrible, all of them--

Having nowhere else to go, he headed back to the inn. When he reached his room he saw the pile of red cloaks lying there on the ground, right where Marley had left them. On the floor nearby were the sewing supplies he'd dropped, and he bent over to pick them up before moving to sit on the bed.

A few moments were spent wrestling with himself, and then Kurt reached over to drag one of the cloaks over the bed and onto his lap.

Might as well pass the time.

--

Later that evening his door opened, and in walked Blaine.

Kurt had finished repairing all but two of the cloaks by then, and was still diligently working when Blaine walked in. As usual Kurt tensed up at the sight of him, unable to let go of the fear and dread that the vampyr had left in his skin.

Blaine seemed subdued, and Kurt found himself curious despite the revulsion he still felt for the other man. The vampyr crossed the room and approached Kurt almost tentatively, reaching out to present a small parcel.

"What is that?" Kurt asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

"Poison," said Blaine dryly. "As if I couldn't rip you apart if I wanted to."

Kurt snatched the parcel from his hand, rolling his eyes. He unfolded it slowly and saw that it contained a bundle of leaves-- He lifted them to his nose and gingerly sniffed them, taking in a familiar scent.

"You brought me tea," he stated.

"You didn't like the kind I made you before," said Blaine defensively. "As I assumed, since you threw it against the wall."

"I threw it because was angry that you nearly killed my friend," Kurt corrected him sternly. "But it was rather horrible, you aren't wrong about that."

"That's why I brought you those tea leaves," Blaine snapped, crossing his arms petulantly. "Or is that not good enough for you?"

Kurt stared. For someone so strong and fearsome, Blaine seemed incredibly childish right then. "It's fine," he replied softly. "Thank you."

Blaine just made a gruff sound, then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Kurt called out suddenly. Blaine stopped and turned his head, curious.

"Why are you doing this?" Kurt demanded. "Not just the tea, but--but the room, the food, the clothes... You could have just left me in the barn naked with moldy bread to eat. Why are you so concerned for my comfort, especially after what you did?"

"Would you prefer the barn?" said Blaine dryly, lifting an eyebrow.

"Obviously not," Kurt snapped.

"Then just be grateful," Blaine replied. Kurt opened his mouth to let out a frustrated reply, but before he could say another word Blaine turned and left the room, shutting the door tightly behind him.

Kurt was left alone and confused once more--but also as though the horrible, sinking weight that had been pressing down on his heart had finally started to lift.

--