--

Clouds hung thick and dark in the sky above them as Kurt, Ryder and Marley fled the cathedral as fast as their legs could carry them. They made their way through several winding paths until Marley stopped them, tugging on Ryder's sleeve and pointing back in the direction of the cathedral, groaning.

"Are you mad?" said Ryder breathlessly. "We cannot go back there."

Marley just moaned louder, distress written on her face as she tugged and gesticulated.

"We should keep moving," Kurt advised, though he too were fighting the urge to turn back.

Ryder pried his sleeve free from Marley's grip and took her gently by the shoulders. "Jake would not wish for you to be in harm's way," he told her softly, touching her cheek. "He will be all right. Come, we must keep moving--"

As if on cue, Kurt heard rapid footsteps behind them. Ryder seized Marley by the hand and they took off running once more--and sure enough, when Kurt glanced back he could see several of Sebastian's vampyrs gaining on them.

Kurt's head was spinning, his heart pounding. It was nearly night, which meant that soon Ryder and Marley would be feral and he would be left to his own devices. He couldn't keep running forever-- There had to be a place where he could hide, at least until the sun came up.

He had no time to think. A vampyr managed to catch up with him and swooped upon him, knocking him to the ground. He heard Marley shriek and Ryder let out a vicious snarl, and the last thing he saw was Ryder jumping in front of him to fend off his attacker.

Then his head hit the pavement, and he blacked out.


"Hello? Are you awake? Are you...hurt?"

"No... I am starving. If I do not feed soon, I...I will die a wretched death."

"I do not have any food... I can go and bring some back with me?"

"No, child... I--I require blood. But I cannot request that of you--"

"My mother told me to always help others when I can. I can give you just a little blood, if that is all you'll eat. Here... Drink from my arm."


The world slowly came into focus. Kurt fully expected to be lying upon the cold stone ground--or worse, back in the vampyr's captivity--but instead he found a straw mattress beneath him, and a blanket draped over his prone form. He stirred, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, and he heard someone approach from nearby.

"Oh, thank goodness. That wound on your head had me worried... Are you all right?"

He knew that voice.

Slowly he pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his head where his wound still throbbed painfully. A quick look around told him that he was inside a caravan--the very circus caravan he'd seen earlier that day, which meant...

"Miss Unique?" he mumbled. "Is it you?"

"Yes, child," replied Miss Unique, bringing a bucket of water and a washclosh to his makeshift bedside. "Your companions brought you here and told me everything."

"Where are they?" Kurt asked as Unique dabbed at his brow with the washcloth.

"They agreed to travel alongside us," she replied.

"Alongside..." Kurt's voice trailed off as he realized they were moving. He moved away from Unique's administrations and pushed the curtains above him aside, revealing a window. A quick glance outside showed him that the caravan had long since left the city.

"Where are we?" he asked, a lump growing in his throat. Though he seemed to be out of danger for the time being, he had no idea what was in store for him now.

"Heading toward Spire Woods now," said a new voice. Kurt looked up to see the tall, black-haired man who had pushed him to get his fortune told before. He walked over to Unique and sat beside her.

"Spire Woods?" Kurt inquired.

"West of the city," the man replied. "And, in day's time, Shady Hollow. We were told you live there, yes? Your friends instructed us to take you there, in exchange for a venue for our circus."
Kurt's eyes were wide. He almost couldn't believe it.

He was going home.

Tears must have filled his eyes then, because Unique reached out to pat his arm soothingly. "Poor child," she said softly. "You've been through so much, haven't you? Blast those wicked creatures."

"You know of the vampyrs?" Kurt asked, his voice trembling.

"Everyone knows of the vampyrs," the black-haired man replied, suddenly angry. "They've had an iron hold on the city for years. They've killed many people...including some of our loved ones." His throat seemed to tighten then, and he looked away, deeply troubled.

"Mike has no love for them," Unique finished for him. "But we know your companions mean us no harm. Besides, we've been dealing with all manner of creatures for years throughout our travels. It takes a considerable lot to frighten us."

Kurt looked between the two performers, suddenly nervous. "Why are you helping me?" he asked in a quiet voice. "You know nothing of the sort of person I am. I could rob you blind."

Unique smiled, her eyes sparkling just like they had when she'd told his fortune before. "You seemed dubious before," she explained. "But I assure you, my clairvoyant abilities are entirely genuine. I know many things about you, Kurt Hummel, just from meeting with you. I know that your heart is good and pure, and it troubles us not to return you to your loved ones."

Though he was still full of questions, Kurt found he could no longer speak. His throat felt suddenly tight, and he could only stare at the woman then, conveying his gratitude with a short squeeze of his hand upon hers.

He was finally going home.


Dusk was approaching, and the caravan slowed to a stop near the edge of the woods. The circus performers set up camp to cook their dinner, and Kurt wandered toward where he could see Ryder and Marley walking ahead.

"Wait," he said as he jogged up to them.

Ryder looked at him skeptically. "We need to keep moving," he said. "Once night falls and we turn, you will all be put in danger."

"I know," said Kurt, breathless from running and still dizzy from his concussion. "I just-- I need answers. I will never rest soundly again if I don't know."

Ryder crossed his arms tightly over his chest, turning toward Kurt. "Don't know what?"

Kurt bit his lip for a moment, steeling himself for an answer that could potentially wound him even further. "What all of you did," he said carefully. "Was it all premeditated?"

Marley nodded before Ryder had a chance to speak. If he had considered lying to Kurt, it was useless now.

"Yes," he added. "Blaine had all of us fooling you into thinking you were meant to be an offering. It was the only way we could infiltrate Sebastian's lair. We were all a part of his revenge."

Kurt felt the real weight of everything he'd experience fall heavy on his shoulders. He felt winded.

"So--so I was never meant to be sacrificed at all?" he said helplessly. "Or--or remain his prisoner? It was all just a trick, I-- I just had to think I was going to die for however long it suited you?"

"Blaine couldn't have you revealing our real intentions too soon," said Ryder defensively. "He had to wait for the opportune moment to attack Sebastian. The city vampyrs are stronger than we are, you saw it for yourself--"

"What now?" Kurt interjected. "What will become of you, and--and Blaine?"

Ryder stared at Kurt for a moment, perplexed, and then he shrugged. "Whoever survives will make their way back here, I suppose. I was told to get you to safety. My task here is done."

He turned away, heading into the forest, and Kurt knew his time for asking questions had ran out. He was prepared to let Ryder leave, but then the vampyr turned back, his jaw tight.

"For what it is worth," he said after a long pause. "I am sorry. For attacking you that night."
Kurt was stunned for a moment but recovered quickly. "You saved me," he replied, feeling awkward. "That is repayment enough."

Ryder nodded then turned to leave again, taking Marley by the hand and tugging her lightly.
Marley didn't budge. She looked at Kurt with her wild blue eyes, which were desperately trying to convey something. Ryder frowned and tugged her again.

"Marley, we have to go," he insisted, but she ignored him. Instead she walked close to Kurt and reached up a hand to prod him lightly in the chest.

And then she spoke.

"Home," he said in a tight, croaky voice that had not been used for a long time. "Home."

At first, Kurt was too shocked to reply. He stared at her for a long time, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "I'm sorry?" he said softly, squinting at her.

"Home!" she said more loudly, sounding frustrated. She removed her hand from Kurt's chest and pressed it against her own instead. "Home," she repeated, patting her breast gently.

Slowly something came together in Kurt's mind. A long time ago, long before he moved to Shady Hollow, a young girl had been taken by the vampyrs. A young girl who had once been the intended offering, but who had apparently become a vampyr herself instead.

"Shady Hollow," he whispered. "That was your home once too, wasn't it?"

Marley smiled gently. "Home," she said again, rubbing Kurt's shoulder soothingly, and Ryder sighed impatiently.

"Come, Marley," he insisted. "Our time dwindles."

At last Marley allowed herself to be tugged away. Kurt watched the pair of them as they disappeared into the cold, grey mass of splintered trees, feeling suddenly very alone.


Eventually Kurt returned to the caravan to awkwardly seat himself in the circle the performers had formed around a fire. At first he felt unwelcome, but Unique's sparkling eyes were warm and inviting as she smiled at him from across the fire.

"Please, help yourself," she told him as she passed him a small bowl of soup. It was the first warm meal Kurt had eaten in a long time, and he ate it eagerly.

He spent the night with the circus performers, and learned a bit about each of them. In addition to Unique the fortune teller and Mike the acrobat, there was Artie--the legless boy--a talented juggler, Matt the fire-eater, and Lauren the strong woman. They were all friendly and inviting, and Kurt was finally beginning to feel something close to relaxed.

The surprises hadn't quite ended, though. When it came time to sleep, Kurt was fashioning himself a cot when he saw Unique reach to take her hair in hand and pull it right off. The wig was of fine quality, and Kurt saw her hang it carefully before he saw her reach into her shirt and remove a great deal of padding.

Kurt's eyes widened. "You're...?"

Unique glanced in his direction, and the corners of her mouth were tight. "My parents called me Wade," she informed him. "And as much as I wish to honor their memory, I cannot keep the name they gave me. It is not who I am."

Kurt's chest felt tight. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For your loss."

She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling once more. "Life goes on," she told him before heading to her own cot to sleep.

Kurt followed suit, and her words repeated over and over in his mind. They were simple, but they meant a great deal to him. His life would go on, despite the horrors he'd experienced, and he'd have to learn to heal from the wounds inflicted on his mind and body. It would take time, and the scars would never truly fade--but he'd survived. Despite everything, he was still alive.

That was encouragement enough.


They set off to Shady Hollow at dawn.

It took a little longer than expected since they had to go around the forest, but Kurt was grateful not to have to set foot in that place again. A knot tightened in his stomach as he recalled the blood pact he made with Quinn-- He had almost forgotten it in all the chaos that had happened in the city.

What if she never gave my father the medicine? he thought, feeling sicker by the minute. What if she was lying? What if he's worse, or--or if he's--

Nausea curled in his stomach and he was suddenly in desperate need of fresh air. He stumbled to the doorway of the caravan just in time for him to spill the contents of his stomach overboard. He didn't throw up very often, and it was a miserable experience. Convinced he had some form of motion sickness, he moved back inside once he'd finished vomiting, curling up to rest until their arrival.

It was late afternoon when they finally rolled past the woods near Shady Hollow, and Kurt woke up to the sound of angry voices outside.

Groggily he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the front of the caravan. With a jolt he realized they'd made it to the edge of the village, and that several watchmen were accosting Artie with a barrage of questions, undoubtedly suspicious.

They must have increased security since my disappearance, Kurt realized, and he quickly walked within sight of the watchmen, who were stunned speechless by his sudden appearance.

"It's all right," he told them. "They're friends. I--"

He trailed off as he realized that a crowd of villagers had gathered to investigate the sudden commotion. Among them, in the far back, hobbling with a cane from the distance, was Burt Hummel.

Words failed Kurt then.

Immediately he abandoned the caravan and the watchmen and pushed his way through the small crowd to where he could see his father advancing toward him. Relief, happiness and horrible pain assailed him from all sides, stabbing every part of him until his body ached, but he didn't stop running until he had reached his father and had thrown his arms around him.

"Kurt," came Burt's voice, quiet and choked and nearly drowned by the sound of Kurt's sobs. "Oh god, Kurt--"

Their legs collapsed and they slumped down to their knees, clutching one another desperately. Kurt's tears poured forth unchecked--and he let them, released every ounce of pain he'd been carrying since he'd been stolen away from home, breaking down in his father's arms.
They were real and warm and alive. He was alive, he was well and Kurt was home.

The crowd around the caravan had dispersed and instead gathered itself around the small reunion, registering awe and disbelief and uncertainty. The watchmen gave the circus caravan clearance to enter, and they rolled into the village at last. Kurt just clutched his father until they were both convinced of the reality of one another's presence, and then they pulled away to make doubly sure.

"Are you hurt?" Burt demanded, touching the scrapes on Kurt's face. "Did they hurt you? Please--"

"I'm all right," Kurt insisted, touching his father's hand. His face hurt from smiling. "I'm fine, father, but your heart-- Are you--?"

"Come now," came a soft voice from above. "Let's get you two off the ground, and then you can catch up."

Kurt's heart soared as he looked up and saw Rachel standing above them. She too was in tears. Kurt sprung to his feet and embraced her tightly, nearly lifting her off the ground.

"Oh Rachel," he sobbed. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you..."

"I can't believe you're home," she replied, clutching him. "Oh Kurt... You must tell us everything."

Kurt felt a wrench in his heart then, but didn't quite let it destroy his happiness. He and Rachel helped Burt to his feet, and Rachel guided them both toward their cottage. Kurt looked briefly around the town as he walked, and his eyes fell upon a familar face in the back of the small crowd that was still tightly gathered, conversing among themselves.

It was Adam. Their eyes met for just a moment, and Kurt registered the confusion and disbelief and burgeoning joy there before Rachel tugged on his hand and he was ushered indoors.


Once inside Rachel hurried to put together something for Kurt to eat. Kurt found he wasn't hungry at all, though; he was so consumed by the knotted threads of his own emotion, and he couldn't even begin to try and sort through them all.

He knew the questions were going to come, but he felt ill-prepared for all of them. Rachel kept asking him what the vampyrs were like and what they'd done, and while Burt was mostly quiet Kurt could almost feel his thirst for answers. Kurt gave as little as he could, desperate not to reopen wounds that were only just starting to scab over, but it was becoming difficult to ignore his father's frustration.

When the knock came at the door, he was almost relieved.

"I'll get it," he said quickly, and moved to the door. He was not surprised to see Adam there.

"Am I interrupting?" said Adam hastily. "I couldn't wait--"

"It's all right," said Kurt. "Why don't we go for a walk? I could use the fresh air after being cooped up in that caravan all day."

He sensed both Burt and Rachel were about to protest, but he ignored them and quickly walked out the door, much to Adam's surprise.

It was sunny and pleasantly breezy outside, and Kurt could feel magic swirling around him where he'd only taken it for granted before. It surged within him, filling every bone and every vein, and he breathed in the sweet scents of the gardens and meadows around him.

Adam was quiet, awkward. Kurt knew he was itching to ask Kurt what had happened and how he'd returned, and was holding back only to give Kurt some much-needed time to heal. While obvious, Adam's curiosity didn't bother him as much as Rachel's and Burt's did. After all, Adam had been hurt by Blaine as well. There was an understanding between them that Kurt didn't share with anyone else.

"There is talk of a celebration," Adam finally said, breaking the ice. "To honor your return."

"Oh yes?" said Kurt with only a faint amount of interest. He knotted his fingers together, staring at them while they walked.

"I am sure your friends would like to put on a show," Adam continued. "It's the least our village can do for them for returning you to safety."

Kurt just nodded, and they walked for a while in silence, awkwardness thick in the air. He considered turning back around and heading home again, if only to hide in his room for a while. It had only been a few hours since he'd last slept, but he was already exhausted.

Instead, Adam reached out to grasp his arm gently once they were out of earshot of any villagers. He leaned in close, his brows knitted close together with worry.

"I don't wish to press you," said Adam. "But I must know-- How did you get away? Are you still in danger? Will he come looking for you?"

Kurt's chest tightened. "No," he said quietly. "He won't."

"How can you be certain?" Adam pressed, looking anxious.

"Because I didn't get away," Kurt said quickly, suddenly uncomfortable. "He let me go."

Adam was quiet then, stunned. Kurt took the opportunity to turn them around and start walking back. Adam followed closely, looking as though he were wrestling internally with himself. Kurt was too tired to try and figure out why.

Kurt felt the eyes of the surrouding villagers on him as they walked back, and suddenly wished there wouldn't be a celebration at all. At a party he'd have to smile and converse and pretend that he didn't feel like curling up somewhere and screaming at the top of his lungs, just screaming and crying until his throat cracked and his voice gave out.

"Are you certain you aren't in danger?" Adam finally asked as they walked up the steps to Kurt's front door. "I must know, because--because I won't let Them take you away, Kurt. Not again."

There was pain in his voice that brought Kurt out of the haze of apathy that had started to surround him, and he finally stopped to look into Adam's eyes. They were filled with a deep longing, and pain that Kurt felt he could reach out and touch. He reached up to touch Adam's cheek instead, gently stroking it as night began to fall around them and cloak them in blue.

"Goodnight Adam," he said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."


The nightmares began as soon as Kurt's head hit the pillow. He slept fitfully as he was forced to relive all the terrors he'd seen and the pain he'd felt, as if some cruel unseen force was staunchly forbidding him any moments of real peace. The last thing he saw before waking was Sebastian's cruel smile as he brought the knife down on Blaine's back, and then he was bolting upright in bed, seized by sudden horrible nausea.

He stumbled out of bed and to the front porch in time to vomit into the grass. He remained hunched over the side of the steps until the sickness passed, and was grateful that it was too early in the morning for anyone to have witnessed it. He sat back and sucked in a large gulp of the morning air, raking his hand through his sweaty hair as he tried to get his bearings.
The door opened behind him, and he turned to see his father standing there.

"I suppose I'll make breakfast then," Burt grumbled as he held the door open for Kurt to come back inside.

Breakfast was a near-silent affair. Kurt didn't feel much like eating, and it seemed as though Burt had little desire to eat as well. They each managed a few bites of porridge before setting down their spoons and instead reaching across the table to grasp hands, silently reaffirming their presence to one another, reminding each other that the nightmares were finally over.

Kurt remained indoors until the afternoon, simply enjoying his father's company. He soon grew restless, however, and decided he felt well enough to walk about town. It was a pleasantly sunny day, and Kurt enjoyed himself watching the villagers prepare for the evening's party. He couldn't resist helping a little, too, even as Rachel insisted that the party was his and he had no obligations to do any work that day.

The circus performers were hard at work as well, setting up their show and rehearsing for the event. They had become quite the talking point of the town, which was isolated and unfamilar to the strange wonders of the city. Indeed, Kurt felt himself feeling increasingly alienated even in Rachel's presence, having witnessed things that his fellow villagers would have only ever read about.

By the time night fell, however, the excitement had grown infectious. Kurt found himself smiling and laughing with everyone else as the circus performed--gasping when Mike jumped through a hoop of flames, applauding when Artie juggled five glass bottles and whooping when Lauren bent an iron pipe clean in half. After the performance a small band began to play, and Kurt found a table to sit at and happily watch as villagers danced merrily to the rousing music.

His smile faded somewhat when the time came to toast his return. He felt hot and uncomfortable as nearly every eye in the village stared him down, and was grateful once the attention was away from him and he could hide in the crowd and watch the others dance. It was difficult to avoid the prying eyes, however, and the questions that were getting thrown at him at every turn.

"What were They like, Kurt?"

"Are They truly as monstrous as the legends say?"

"How did you escape Them, Kurt?"

"Stop crowding him at once!" came a voice as Kurt was set upon by a group of curious young children. They immediately dispersed, and Kurt deflated in relief. He looked up to thank whoever had intervened, and found himself face-to-face with Adam.

"Oh Adam," he breathed. "Thank you. I was feeling rather smothered."

Adam smiled and held out a hand, his eyes twinkling. "Care for a dance?"

Kurt looked skeptical, but he took Adam's hand nonetheless and allowed himself to be steered toward the dance floor. The music was upbeat and infectious, and dancers were whirling all around them, and Kurt had no idea what he was doing.

"I'm a terrible dancer," he admitted, speaking loud over the music, cheeks hot with embarrassment. "I'm going to trip over your feet."

"Just let me lead you," replied Adam soothingly. "Just like this-- Come on!"

He pulled Kurt close and began to move, tugging Kurt around to the frenetic beat of the music. It was dizzying, and Kurt laughed as he was twirled and tugged and spun around, sucked into the whirl of color and sound. Whenever he felt as though he might trip and fall, Adam was there to steady him and hold him close. When the beat finally slowed and a softer song began to play, he just looped his arms around Adam's shoulders and surrendered--and for the first time since he'd been taken by the vampyrs, he began to feel truly safe.

After a while Kurt began to feel tired and nauseated again. Adam helped him to sit down at a table, and he took a moment to catch his breath, feeling dizzy.

"Are you ill?" Adam asked, voice filled with concern.

"Just a bit dizzy," Kurt replied. It was a bit of an understatement; the smell of the food nearby was suddenly terribly pungent, and it was making Kurt feel like vomiting again. He searched the crowd for his father, and saw him chatting animatedly with a woman he knew to be a widow named Carole.

"Shall I fetch your father?" came Adam's voice beside him, and Kurt shook his head.

"Oh no, you mustn't disturb him," he replied, and gestured to his father and Carole with a knowing smile. He watched them for a moment then turned back to Adam. "Could you take me home? This party has been lovely, but I'm feeling rather faint."

"Of course," said Adam hastily. He helped Kurt to his feet, and between the two of them they managed to leave the party without being noticed.


The sound of music and revelry slowly became an echo in the distance as Kurt and Adam made their way to the Hummels' cottage. Kurt immediately went to the couch to rest, and he watched as Adam stoked a fire and put a kettle on for tea.

"Thank you," Kurt said softly when Adam handed him a steaming cup. He drank slowly, focusing on the smell of the peppermint Adam had brewed it with, and slowly his nausea began to abate.

"How did you know to use peppermint?" Kurt murmured once he felt well enough to carry on a conversation. Adam came to sit beside him, and Kurt could see the firelight bathe his handsome features in soft, rusty orange.

"My mother used to make it for me when I was ill," Adam replied. "God rest her soul. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, much," Kurt replied with a smile. "And I have your mother to thank."

"I shall tell her then, as I pray tonight," said Adam. "I have been neglecting her of late, I'm afraid, as all my prayers have been for your safe return."

Kurt set down the teacup and tugged a blanket around his shoulders. Adam reached over to straighten it, and Kurt's shiver when his hand brushed against the side of his neck had nothing to do with the cold. Adam seemed to sense it, and he moved closer, stopping only when their legs were touching one another.

"I missed you so, little one," Adam murmured, brushing Kurt's cheek with his thumb.

The distance between them slowly dwindled, and their lips met. This time, Kurt reciprocated fully, parting his lips invitingly for Adam to plunder, his arms encircling Adam's shoulders. Something in Adam seemed to break, and he made a sound much like a barely restrained sob as he crushed Kurt against him, his hands smoothing over the boy's slight body as if convinced he were going to disappear at any moment. He kissed deeply, greedily, taking what he was given, grasping hold of something that he had been trying to reach for far too long.

Kurt's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it rattle his bones. Suddenly the blanket around him felt far too hot, so he let it fall from around his shoulders and slide somewhere on the floor. He tried to meet each of Adam's feverish kisses with one of his own, his fingers tangling in the older man's shirt as they sought purchase to keep from falling. Gravity pulled their bodies down, and Kurt let Adam shift him so he was pressed against the couch, caught between it and the heat of Adam's body on top of him. Adam's lips found Kurt's neck and began to explore, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the pale length of it, tasting and devouring. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed as he tried to lose himself in the heat spreading through his body, tried to enjoy the touch of a person he cared so much for--but it was at war with a chill that had been buried deep in his bones, which crept through his veins and threatened to obliterate everything.

With every press of Adam's mouth against his flesh he felt teeth sinking in, tearing in, drinking. The pressure of the couch below him suddenly felt like the filthy floor of a barn, and the hardness Kurt felt forming against his leg was something far more sinister, something about to penetrate and rip and tear him open and apart--

"No-- No, stop!"

At the sound of the words Adam jerked on top of him, pulling away immediately. At first Kurt was confused as to why he'd stopped--and then he felt tears on his face, and a tremor shaking his body, and the realization that he'd said those words out loud.

Adam was off him immediately, moving to take the blanket off the floor and hesitantly pass it to Kurt. He seemed terrified to touch Kurt in that moment, and Kurt wondered if a fire had been set in his skin, an ever-burning flame there to scorch anyone he wanted to come close.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, tugging the blanket around himself once more. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Adam whispered, reaching out hesitantly to rub his back in slow, soothing circles. "You've done nothing wrong. It's all right. Shh, now..."

There was silence then, and the crackling of the fire, and the sounds of distant revelry that neither of them could partake in.

--

The night was over and the morning came, and Kurt was determined to forget what had happened. He let himself sleep a little later than usual, and when he woke up the house was empty-- His father must have gone to work for the day. He made himself some tea and relaxed for a while, and when the sun reached its apex in the sky he finally decided to get dressed and start the day.

When he went to tug on his trousers, however, he realized they didn't fit quite right. He frowned, looking at himself from all sides in the mirror, wondering if he had gained weight. I did eat a lot at the party last night, he told himself, but he couldn't shake the nervous feeling that was started to form in his stomach.

He spent the afternoon adjusting his clothes so they fit more loosely, trying to keep his mind occupied. Eventually he got tired of being indoors and found something baggy to wear to he could go meet with Rachel. When he got to her house he was surprised to see the widow Carole and her son Finn standing outside with Rachel and her family.

"Kurt!" said Rachel delightedly when she saw him. "I was wondering where you've been."

"Hello," said Finn awkwardly, reaching out a hand to shake Kurt's. Kurt took one look between him and Rachel and could immediately make the connection.

"I'm happy for you two," Kurt said earnestly. Finn blushed, and Rachel beamed.

"Well, we should leave them alone now, shouldn't we?" Carole suggested, and Kurt acquiesced with only a small amount of disappointment. After all, he could never frown upon his best friend's happiness.

He led Carole away from the house and walked with her across town. As usual Shady Hollow was bustling with cheerful activity, and Kurt could see the circus caravan packing up in the distance. He watched Mike and Matt hauling their props into the back compartment, and felt suddenly anxious.

"How is your father, Kurt?" said Carole suddenly, her tone demure.

"Very well," Kurt replied, giving her an encouraging smile.

Just then a fresh wave of nausea rolled over him, and he held his stomach, looking down at the ground as his world spun. He wanted to chalk it up to nerves, but he was slowly running out of excuses. He glanced over at the circus caravan again, wrestling internally with something.

Carole's voice cut into his thoughts. "Are you all right?" she asked, putting a hand on his back.

"Fine," he said hastily. "Just a tad woozy, is all."

Carole nodded knowingly. "Try some ginger," she advised. "I found it always helped me. I had dealt with nausea quite often when I was pregnant with Finn."

It was like the floor opened up beneath Kurt and swallowed him in. Something in his mind had nursed its suspicions, but hearing the words just made it all real.

But it can't be real, he told himself. It can't. This isn't happening.

"Kurt?" said Carole uncertainly. He turned to pat her arm soothingly.

"I have some business I need to take care of," he told her. "Will you be all right walking home?"

Carole nodded and bid him goodbye, and he walked away from her without another word, making haste to where he could see Unique helping the others pack up to leave town. He picked up the pace until he was running, ignoring the looks he got from the surrounding townspeople as he waved his arm to stop Unique.

"Wait!" he called out. "Please don't leave yet--"

He skidded to a halt in front of the caravan, panting to catch his breath. The circus performers looked at him curiously, but he ignored them in favor of taking Unique by the arm and tugging her toward the woods.

"I need to speak with you in private," he informed her as they marched to the edge of the woods, taking shelter beneath a large oak tree.

"Are you all right?" asked Unique, looking concerned.

Kurt wasted no time. "When you told our fortunes," he said breathlessly, "you said there were three of us. What did you mean?"

Unique's lips tightened for a moment, and she looked unsure. "My foresight can sometimes prove false," she admitted. "I sensed three souls in that room. Something might have interfered, like an outside presence--"

"Or there really were three of us," Kurt interjected, distressed.

Unique stared at him, confused. "I don't know what you--"

Immediately Kurt took her hand and placed it on his belly. His eyes were wild, beseeching as he searched her face, desperate for an answer.

"Use your clairvoyance," he begged. "Please. Tell me if I am with child or not."

Unique looked hopelessly confused for a moment, but she didn't ask any questions. Instead she closed her eyes, splaying her fingers on Kurt's belly as she seemed to slip away within herself. Kurt scarcely breathed, terrified in ways he'd never even imagined, watching Unique as if certain she were about to pull out a blade and slice him in two.

It took far too long. Kurt was about to shout, demand an answer when Unique finally pulled her hand away and stared at him in utmost confusion.

"Well?" Kurt cried.

"Yes," said Unique. "You are with child."

She may as well have struck him across the face. Kurt went ghastly pale and stumbled backward, reeling. It had to be some sort of colossal cosmic joke, and if he were at all in the mood for humor he would have reveled in the irony of it.

He had just arrived home, had only just began to surrender to peace, and now this.

"Kurt," said Unique, reaching for him. "Are you...?"

"Thank you," he cut in, his voice shrill. "For your performance. I wish all of you well."

He turned away without another word, making a beeline for his house. His hand clutched at his belly as if he cradled something dangerous there, an explosive about to tear down his entire world. Once again he ignored the busy town around him, focusing only on getting home, getting somewhere he could hide away and scream and scream and scream.


He spent the rest of the day curled up in bed. When he heard the door open, signaling his father's return, he didn't get up to greet him.

"Kurt?" Burt called through the house, his boots thumping on the wooden floor. "Where are you, boy? I've got things to tell you."

Finally Kurt forced himself out of bed. His side ached from where he'd been lying on it too long. He wandered out into the kitchen, and Burt turned to look at him and frowned.

"What ails you?" he muttered. "You look like death, boy."

"I'm just feeling a bit ill," Kurt replied, forcing a smile. "It's nothing serious."

"Make one of those foul concoctions you used to give to me," Burt retorted, inviting Kurt to join him at the table. "Those wicked-tasting things."

"Perhaps I will," Kurt replied tiredly. "What is it you'd like to tell me?"

Burt's eyes glinted with excitement that Kurt hadn't seen in years. "You know Carole, the widow? I've taken a real liking to her. And I think she feels the same way about me."

He smiled, actually looking bashful. There was so much joy in his expression, and Kurt felt something go numb and crumble inside of him.

"We're getting late in years, but..." Burt trailed off for a moment, looking wistful, and shook his head. "To blazes with that. I want to marry her, Kurt. It isn't too late, is it? What do you think?"

Kurt's face felt hot and his ears were ringing. "I...I don't know..."

Burt didn't seem to hear him. "I waited so long," he gushed. "I felt it was an affront to your mother's memory, but I think it's time. She would have wanted that for me, for us. Don't you think?"

Kurt felt dizzy. "I..."

"Kurt, say something, won't you? I--"

"I have to go."

Silence fell so jarring Kurt could hear the wind outside, whistling through the cracks in the walls of the house. Burt stared, the smile having not quite left his face.

"What?"

"I have to leave," Kurt said more loudly, eyes focused on the window on the back wall. "I cannot stay in this village."

Burt wasn't even remotely smiling now. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "This is your home, Kurt. You're--" His expression turned dark. He rose from his chair, looking murderous. "Blast it. I knew it. I knew those monsters did something to you, and They'll pay for it, mark my--"

"I'm pregnant."

It was as if he'd slapped Burt across the face. His father turned white as a corpse, the joy driven from his eyes, and Kurt hated himself for it. He suddenly felt very small, sitting there like a stray cat, alone and forsaken and filthy and completely unwanted.

"Impossible," said Burt at last, his voice choked with disbelief. "How did--"

"There is no time to explain," said Kurt, and his throat felt so tight it was becoming difficult to speak. "I--" His voice died, and he tried again. "Please don't--"

A tiny sob left his lips and he gave up. "Please don't make me explain," he whimpered, and realized he was shaking.

Before he could say another word his father's arms were around him. He felt very much like a tiny child again, having woken from a nightmare, clinging to safety in his father's warm embrace. Burt couldn't make this go away, though. Burt couldn't undo any of the horrors he'd experienced. Nothing could.

Burt held him for a long time, and he let himself howl and cry, breaking down in the circle of his father's arms. When it was done, when his tears were gone and he was left an empty husk, he slowly pulled away.

"I need to tell you something," he said in a hollow voice, dead inside. "It's about who I am, I-- I cannot keep it a secret from you any longer. Father, I..." He took a breath, steeling himself. "I'm a witch."

The shock and horror that Kurt expected weren't there. Instead came only two words.

"I know."

Kurt stared. "What?"

"Do you think I don't remember your mother?" said Burt, reaching out to stroke lingering tears from Kurt's pale cheek. "You've always been just like her, you know. You've inherited her kindness, her good heart, her sensibility... It would seem foolish if you did not inherit her gifts as well."

"Some would call them a curse," Kurt countered, leaning against his father's shoulder.

Burt wrapped an arm around him, tugging him close. "You are not a curse," he said firmly. "Nor is your child. And I intend to go with you, to wherever you're headed."

Startled, Kurt pulled away abruptly. "Absolutely not!" he said vehemently. "This-- Father, you mustn't. You don't have the strength, and where I go there is only death and ruin-- You must stay here. What would Carole think if you left on some dangerous journey, some-- some fool's errand?"

"It is no fool's errand," Burt argued, affronted. "You are my son. And if you think I am about to let you walk back into the lion's den alone, you are sorely mistaken."

There was conviction in his tone that Kurt couldn't reason with. Instead he simply let his shoulders fall in defeat, biting his tongue, and nodded once.

"Very well," he replied softly. "We leave tomorrow before dawn, so we can go unnoticed. Let us talk no more of this tonight. Shall I brew us some tea? We can sleep out on the living room floor together, like we used to when I was young."

Burt visibly relaxed and then nodded. He sat at the table, hands folded and pressed against his temples as Kurt went to the kitchen to brew the tea. Kurt watched him warily for a moment before reaching into his stores and locating a parcel of the strongest sleeping agent he could find. He brewed the tea as he usually did, but added copious amounts of the herb to Burt's cup.
He was very careful not to show any sign of emotion as Burt drank the tea, composing himself carefully until his father's eyelids began to droop and the cup toppled out of his hands and to the floor. Kurt waited until his father was sound asleep before he stole into his room to pack a small amount of clothes to bring with him. Moving quickly, he added a generous amount of spellcasting supplies and the dagger he often used to cut them with. He left whatever he couldn't bring behind, tucking it carefully underneath the floorboard, and then he lingered for just a moment to drape a blanket over his father's shoulders.

"Good bye," he whispered, and he let one more tear fall before he forced himself to walk out of the house and to his last destination before he left for good.


There was still light through the windows of Adam's house. Kurt was careful to stow his bag in the bushes outside the front staircase before he knocked on the door and waited for Adam to answer. He heard footsteps padding toward the door, and he stepped aside so it could be opened.

Adam looked slightly touseled, as if he'd woken up after having fallen unintentionally asleep. He looked surprised, but not displeased, to see Kurt there.

"Kurt-- What on Earth?" He stepped aside to let Kurt in. "It's terribly late. Are you all right?"

Kurt wasted no time. As soon as he was inside and the door was closed he reached out to grab Adam's face and crush their mouths together. Adam made a muffled noise of surprise, his hands falling to grip Kurt's waist uncertainly as Kurt kissed him hard, deeply, desperately.

When they pulled apart for breath Adam stared down at Kurt, utterly confused. His face was flushed, his lips slightly swollen, his eyes dazed.

"Kurt," he panted. "What--?"

"Do you remember when we met?" Kurt replied, his voice equally breathless. He stared up at Adam, his eyes faraway and wistful. "When I first moved here to Shady Hollow, when I was a child. The other little boys teased me because they said I looked like a girl. Do you remember?"

"Yes," Adam replied, his hands still resting lightly on Kurt's waist. "Of course I do."

"You were much older than them," Kurt recalled, grinning. "And bigger. You scared them away, and told them you'd tell their mothers and that they'd swat their little behinds for being such scoundrels."

Adam let out a startled little laugh. "Yes, I do recall that," he said softly. "But what brings this about, especially at this hour?"

Kurt just shook his head, his smile sad. He reached up to trail his hand through Adam's hair, and let it trail down to gently caress his cheek. Adam reached up to take it and hold it tight.

"You've always been here for me," Kurt murmured. "My silent guardian."

"Not quite so silent," Adam joked lightly in response.

Kurt just laughed again, then leaned up for another kiss. This one started out softer, quietly conveying the emotions that were running through Kurt at that moment--the deep affection he felt, the confusion and sadness, the anger and pain that lurked just beneath them. Then Adam pulled him closer and it deepened, and Kurt let all his feelings sweep him up, entangle him, obliterate everything else. Adam was sweeping him up too--lifting him up of his feet, and Kurt wrapped his legs tightly around Adam's waist as they kissed and kissed, stumbling their way to the bedroom.

Adam set Kurt down on the bed and crawled over him, kissing his way up Kurt's abdomen to his neck to his lips. He let them linger there, desperately taking in everything he'd been denied, then pulled away to look down at Kurt with a mixture of concern and reluctance.

"Are you sure about this, darling?" he breathed, locking his eyes on Kurt's.

Kurt wished he hadn't asked. Thinking was not an activity he was eager to engage in right then. Still, he couldn't deny the lingering panic he still felt--and his desire to quell it completely, forever.

"I am sure," he replied, and tugged Adam down for another kiss.

Adam was slow and careful, but Kurt could sense a desperation in him that was just barely restrained. Kurt focused on that, on the raw energy between them, latching onto every moment and cementing it in his memory. When Adam's hand slid down his body and finally found its way between his legs, it was tentative and gentle, and it should have been everything Kurt ever wanted.

All of it should have--and while every touch was pleasurable instead of painful, giving rather than taking, Kurt felt a hollowness in every stroke that he couldn't explain. He chose not to dwell on it, instead catching Adam's lips with his own whenever they moved close, desperate to stay in the present.

Adam's hand worked at Kurt for a long time--and it wasn't until he was rutting his hips against it, wet and aching, that Adam finally draw away to pull away their trousers and line up their bodies. Kurt's back arched off the bed as Adam held him firmly by the hips and pushed in, sliding deep into the wet heat of his pussy. Kurt's fingers knotted around the sheets on either side of his head, holding tight for leverage as Adam began to thrust in and out of him at a frantic pace.

"You're so lovely, Kurt," Adam kept saying. "So lovely. You feel so good--"

Kurt latched onto the words, keeping his eyes opened and trained on Adam's face. Whenever the fear crept into his heart he shoved it down, hanging on to his courage, living in the moment. It was pleasurable, if purely on an emotional level, but he didn't reach climax. Instead he met Adam's kiss when the other man reached his own, moaning softly as he felt his friend release inside him.

"I love you, Kurt."

At first Kurt wasn't sure he heard it-- But then Adam said it again.

"I love you, Kurt," he breathed against Kurt's neck as he lay to rest atop him, sweaty and warm. "I love you so much."

"Shh," was all Kurt said in reply, stroking Adam's damp hair. "Sleep now."

He continued to stroke Adam's hair and neck until the older man fell asleep, nestled against him. For a split second Kurt considered abandoning his plan entirely--to instead stay in the Hollow and face whatever consequences lay in wait for him--but it was over quickly. He wormed his way out from underneath Adam and slipped out of his bed, and went about cleaning himself and dressing as quietly as possible.

Once he was ready to go he lingered just long enough to write a note, and left it on the table for Adam to find. He couldn't resist pressing one last kiss to Adam's temple as he slept--and then he was gone, stealing into the night like a dream, moving across the sleeping village to the woods beyond.


Dearest Adam,

I am leaving Shady Hollow tonight to return to the home of the vampyrs. Please do not look for me. I am certain he will show you no mercy if he sees you again. I will be safe. You have my word that I will return once my errand is done. Until then, I ask only that you care for my father as you did when I was first taken into the woods. Please do not let him go looking for me. Rachel too.

Thank you for everything you have done for me, truly. You are an invaluable friend. I promise I will return, so please do not dwell on sorrow. I wish only happiness for you, until the end of our days.

Love always,
Kurt

--

The night was silent and cold. Kurt tugged his cloak tightly around himself as he slipped into the darkness of the forest, sneaking past the watchmen with the aid of a few well-placed magic spells. He lit a torch when he was far enough away from the watchtowers, and held it carefully as he navigated his way through the twisting, winding trees.

It all looked the same at night, and he wished he had some sort of map to guide him. He just kept walking in a straight line, certain he would reach the clearing shortly. When time continued to drag on and he was certain he was getting lost, he decided to stop and make camp.

Using some of the supplies he'd taken from home he cast a weak protection spell, the best he could conjure. He hoped it would be enough to at least ward off animal predators, and he curled up on the ground beneath a large tree and fell into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up to daylight and the sound of footsteps in the distance. He jerked awake, looking all around for the source of the noise, seizing his dagger and clutching it tightly. The footsteps drew closer, snapping twigs and crunching leaves, clearly not attempting any form of stealth. Kurt stood his ground, fear creeping into his blood, and then his eyes fell upon a familar face.

It was Ryder.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes wide, his expression anxious. Kurt stared at him, both relieved and perplexed by his presence.

"Ryder," he said incredulously. "What's the matter?"

"It's Blaine," said Ryder beseechingly. Kurt's heart dropped.

"Has he returned?" he demanded.

"Yes," said Ryder. "But we need your help. He's dying."

--