Megan was downright giddy. This was the best date she'd had in months. Sean was cute, had interesting conversation and was a doctor. Awesome. It was so hard to find interesting men to date in Westerville. The Senator really should consider running for Congress in two years. She would love to move to Washington, D.C.

Megan's phone started beeping. She smiled at Sean apologetically.

"I'm really sorry. Normally, I would turn it off, but it's the start of campaign season and our first major event is Saturday, so I really have to take this call."

"Not at all. I completely understand."

Megan smiled. Yes, she just might get married before turning forty.

"Hello? Yes. What? What? What! When? What? Dammit!"

Megan hung up and started typing furiously on her blackberry.

"Is everything okay?"

"No. I'm sorry. I gotta go. I'll call you."

James sipped his bourbon and watched Elaine clean up the kitchen as she chatted about her visit with her sister.

"Honestly, I don't know how Eleanor does it. Seven kids in one house plus a husband and a dog, and yet the place is spotless."

A wave of jealousy rippled through James. Seven kids. Her ugly sister could have seven ugly kids and yet Elaine, the pretty one, could only have one. One good-looking, fucked up, faggot kid. How the hell was that fair? And then, to really stick it to him, the kid inherits whatever strange, evil, voodoo shit was running through his grandfather's veins. Why didn't he inherit that power, or whatever it was? It was wasted on Blaine. If James had that ability, he would be running for President next year. Hell, he would already be in the White House. It was all so damn unfair.

His cell phone beeped. A text message from Megan.

Big problem. Major story hitting tomorrow. Advance draft leaked to me by a friend. Emailing now. Team on their way to your house.

What the hell?

James opened his laptop. After two minutes, Megan's email appeared. He opened the attachment.

ANDERSON FAMILY VALUES by Mark Madison

There was the official, family press photo, a photo of some kid named Kurt Hummel and a photo of James, in front of a podium giving a speech.

Jame's eyes scrolled through the article.

Claims to be champion of family values.

Gay son. Out since age 14.

Prohibited from having other gay friends. Forced to grow up lonely and alone.

Berated by father daily for being gay.

Publicly and privately exposed to constant barrage of disparaging statements about who he was.

Long-term damage suffered by children of homophobic parents – suicide, self-mutilation

Finally, happiness for son. Has gay boyfriend pictured here.

Anderson claims to embrace family values but abuses child.

Does Anderson's family values match those of his constituents?

Is this who we want representing Central Ohio in the state senate? A child abuser?

"James? James, what's wrong? James?"

James had turned a dark, beet-red color. His hands, clinched into two tight fists.

He started towards the stairs.

Blaine was sound asleep. He was exhausted from a major make out session with Kurt. They couldn't get enough of each other. Now that they were close to going all the way, their making out had taken on a feverish pace. The kisses were hotter, the blow jobs deeper and faster and the orgasms hard and intense. Blaine was barely holding on to control. Kurt was ready for him. So hot and ready and practically begging. That shit turned Blaine on bad. Really bad. It would all go down next weekend. Everything was arranged. Next weekend, Blaine would take full and complete ownership of his Kurt. He would possess him fully. And then, Blaine would be complete.

It is because Blaine was asleep, that his father was able to have the upper hand.

James stormed into Blaine's room, pulled Blaine out of bed by his shirt and threw him across the room. Blaine slammed into the wall, waking up disoriented, confused and in pain. James pulled him to his knees and punched him, sending him falling to the floor. Then he started kicking him.

"You fucking faggot! You no good, worthless son-of-a-bitch! I told you to keep it in your pants! I told you, you little fucker!"

Blaine's head was spinning. Was he dreaming? Was he 14 again? No. This was worse. This was different. The darkness was floating around inside him, mixed in with the pain. The pain was keeping him from latching on to the darkness, but it was churning and growing and he was starting to feel hot. He could hear his mother's voice.

"James! Oh my God! Are you crazy? Stop! Stop! Leave him alone!"

James whirled around, his eyes wild with rage.

"You!" he sneered. "This is all your fault. You and your fucked up body! I should have ten kids! What do you give me? One! And you couldn't even get him right!"

Elaine cowered under her husband's words, backing up against the wall. All color drained from her face.

"You're nothing but a pretty, worthless, bitch! I should have screwed your sister instead!"

Elaine slapped him.

Blaine attacked.

He lunged at his father, knocking him to the floor. They rolled over and over, each one fighting to dominate the other. James managed to throw Blaine off and jump to his feet.

"Why you little fucker! What are you going to do? Kill me?"

Blaine's eyes were coal black. His skin was hot and he wasn't fighting to keep control anymore. He allowed the darkness to overtake him.

"Yes."

His punch landed squarely on his father's jaw, the force causing his entire body to spin around. Blaine hit him again, knocking him to the floor. He then hurled himself on top of him, straddled his body and placed his hands firmly around his father's neck.

James tried to reach up and grab Blaine's hands or push against his face, but his son's skin was hot. Too hot to touch. James couldn't breathe. He was losing consciousness.

Elaine pleaded with her son.

"Blaine! Blaine! Please! Blaine! Let him go! Blaine, let him go! Please! Honey, listen to me! Let go, Blaine! Let go!"

But, Blaine wasn't listening. He could feel his father's life leaving his body.

Phil burst into the room. He kicked Blaine in the head, knocking him out. Phil grabbed him and dragged him across the room, leaving him dumped in the corner. James was wheezing and coughing, trying to get air into his lungs. Elaine sat on the floor crying. Phil lounged against the door. After several minutes, he spoke.

"James, you'd better get cleaned up. Everyone will be here in a few minutes to discuss damage control."

He turned and walked out.

Elaine helped James rise to his feet. Neither of them looked at their son, collapsed in the corner, scarcely breathing.

They turned and walked out, closing the door behind them.

Kurt was browsing through Burberry dot com, searching for something for Blaine. Since Blaine always paid for everything, Kurt had been saving his allowance for months and wanted to use the money to buy Blaine a gift. He fingered the pendant on his necklace and sighed. There was no way he could ever afford anything close to all Blaine had given him. He knew Blaine wasn't expecting anything in return, but Kurt's undying devotion, and he certainly had that. Still, Kurt wanted to give him something. Something to say thank you for making him so happy.

His laptop rang, signaling the arrival of a new email. The sender was mmadison at central ohio news dot com. The subject line said, I'm Sorry. Kurt looked at it for a moment. Who was mmadison? He almost deleted it but thought of Michael. He couldn't remember Michael's last name. Had he ever even known it? He clicked on the email.

Kurt, I'm really, really sorry to get you tangled up in this story, but I had no choice. I think you are a great guy, and if you can ever forgive me, I'd love to be friends with you. Again, I'm really sorry.

Mark aka Michael

Sorry for what?

There was an attachment. Kurt opened it and was shocked to see his school picture staring back at him in-between a photo of the Andersons and Blaine's father.

He started reading.

Then he started crying.

Then he called Blaine

Blaine lay on the floor, in the corner of his room, waiting for the pain in his body to subside and the buzzing in his head to stop. Every rise and fall of his chest hurt. What had happened to set his father off? Had Phil finally told him? He had a fuzzy memory of attacking his father. Shit. Had he killed his father? He opened his eyes and glanced around. No, he hadn't killed him. There would be blood if he had, right? Blood. Blaine could taste blood in his mouth from where his father had punched him. This brought him back to his initial question. What had set his father off?

He slowly rolled to his back and tried to sit up. He gasped at the pain. He lifted his shirt. The skin all along his stomach and his side was a bluish-purple color. It reminded him of the bruise Karofsky had left on Kurt.

Kurt.

He needed to call Kurt. He had to get out of the house before his father decided to attack him again.

At that moment, his cell phone rang. Kurt's ring. He slowly crawled to his desk and reached for the phone.

"Kurt?"

"Blaine! Blaine! Oh, God Blaine!"

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Blaine! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I-I didn't know! I didn't know!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The story…the story in the paper… about y-your dad. I d-didn't know…I didn't know he was a reporter…"

"Kurt, I don't know what you're talking about. What story?"

"I'll email you."

Blaine pulled himself up to his desk and opened his laptop. The buzzing in his head had lessened but, his side was still throbbing. He opened his email and clicked on Kurt's email. He could hear Kurt crying as he read the article.

Shit.

No wonder his father had tried to beat the hell out of him. This article made him sound like a child abuser. Guess he was trying to live up to the title.

Blaine scrolled the article again. The fallout from this was going to be bad on so many levels.

"Kurt…get packed. We're leaving."

"Absolutely not! Are you crazy? What type of idiot do you think I am? You are staying right here!"

Burt was standing in the middle of the living room yelling at Kurt as Carol sat on the couch, ashen faced, while Finn sat at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping.

Kurt had decided to show his father the article. After all, tomorrow morning, everyone would know. His father needed to be prepared. After Burt had gone on a tirade about suing the paper, suing the Andersons and anyone else he could think of, Kurt told him he was leaving. With Blaine.

Kurt tried to make his case. "Dad...I don't want to be here when this hits tomorrow. There will be reporters trying to find me! I need to be away from here and Blaine wants to…"

"Do not tell me what Blaine wants! This is not about Blaine. This is about you, and you are my son and you are staying right here! What the hell makes you think I would let you run off with your boyfriend? Are you crazy? Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Burt, please try to calm down…"

"No, Carol, I will not calm down! That's what led to this mess in the first place! I knew, I just knew something like this was going to happen! I should have stopped this months ago!"

"Dad…"

"No! This conversation is over! You are not leaving! Take your things back upstairs!"

Kurt stood there. He had never, ever defied his father. Ever. He usually managed to talk his father into saying yes or figured out a compromise. But, he knew that wouldn't work this time. Blaine was on his way to get him. And Kurt intended to leave. With his father's permission…or not.

"Dad, I love you and normally…I would never go against your wishes but…I'm sorry. Blaine needs me and I need him. I'm going."

Burt looked at his son in dismay. He sighed heavily and sat down in a chair.

"Kurt, what is it about you and this kid? It's like he's cast some spell over you. This ain't healthy Kurt."

"Dad…I love him, but its not just about that. Blaine said that things are going to be really crazy when this hits newsstands tomorrow. At least let me go for the weekend. I promise, I'll come back on Monday if things are calm."

"No. If you feel the need to get out of town while this mess blows over, fine. You and Carol can go to her sister's in Cleveland but…running away with Blaine? I'm sorry Kurt. I'm not going to agree to that."

Kurt was quiet.

"I'm 18."

"What?"

"I-I'm 18. Technically…I can go without your permission. But…I really want your permission."

"Well, you ain't getting it."

Kurt felt like his heart was being ripped apart. Could he really openly defy his father like this?

The doorbell rang.

Burt jumped up. He couldn't wait to tell the little hobbit off. How dare he try to get Kurt to run away with him.

Blaine was standing, actually half leaning, against the door frame. There was a deep bruise on his cheek and his lip was swollen. He looked exhausted and worn out.

Kurt ran to him. "Oh, Blaine!"

Blaine smiled weakly. "I'm fine Kurt. Are you ready?"

"Kurt..." Burt's tone was warning.

Blaine suddenly realized that Burt and Carol were there. He stepped inside. The look on Burt's face told him exactly what was going on.

"Burt, listen, Kurt needs to get out of here tonight. When this thing hits tomorrow, it's gonna be rough. Trust me. I've been around politics and reporters long enough to know. This isn't going to stay in just Central Ohio."

"You have some got-dammed nerve, walking into my home, trying to convince my son to run off with you to God knows where! He wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you!"

"I realize that and that's why I'm trying to get him out of here. There's a place I know of. It's secluded and..." Blaine stopped as he realized how that sounded. "I just want to get Kurt away from all this."

"Maybe you mean well, but that's not happening. Kurt stays here."

Blaine was silent. He was weak from fighting with his father. He couldn't control anything. Not that he wanted to. This was Kurt's father after all. Kurt loved his father and Blaine respected Burt.

But, he wasn't leaving without Kurt.

Like so many times before, he knew he should feel bad for what he was about to do, but he didn't. He needed Kurt with him. Especially now. Hell had just gotten a whole lot hotter. He needed his heaven more than ever.

It wouldn't take much. His connection with Kurt was strong. He just had to touch him.

He took Kurt's hand.

"Listen Kurt, I'm not going to put you in this situation. If your father doesn't want you to go then, you should stay here. I'll be fine."

"No! No! I'm going with you!"

"Kurt...I'm not going to make you choose between me and your father. Stay here."

Kurt was growing hysterical. He had to go with Blaine. He had to be with him. It wasn't just a want anymore. Now, it was a need. He needed to be with Blaine. It would hurt physically not to be with him. "No! I'm going with you!" He turned to his father, his eyes pleading, begging him to understand.

"Dad, I have to go. I have to, I have to. Please, Dad? Please?"

Burt looked from to Blaine, to Kurt and back to Blaine again. What had just happened? Burt was sure Blaine had just done something. Something to make Kurt more desperate than before but...that made absolutely no sense. Burt stared at Blaine hard. What was it with this kid?

"If you let him come with me, I promise I'll take care of him. I love him. I would never, ever let anything happen to him. I'll protect him."

"Oh, like you protected him from this current nightmare?"

Blaine winced.

"Dad…it's not his fault. I'm the one who talked to that reporter."

Burt collapsed in his chair again. Frustrated. Kurt looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown. The idea of letting Kurt leave made his head and his heart hurt.

"Dad," Kurt came over and knelt in front of his father.

"Don't you trust me to make my own decisions?"

"Kurt…that's not fair. You know I trust you but this…this is major, son. Do you realize what you are asking me to do? Let's say this thing does get really bad, and the two of you are seen together. Things could get ugly Kurt. It's not just politicians who are going to jump on this thing. There are a lot of crazies out there. I can't have you wandering around, unprotected."

"But, I will be protected. Blaine will be with me and...I can protect myself. Dad, please? Please?"

Burt looked into Kurt's eyes. He could already see the truth. He wasn't going to win.

He stood up and stepped to Blaine.

"The weekend only. You keep your cell phones on and call me when you get there plus, every day. He better be back here Sunday night or, there will be hell to pay. And, if something happens to him, I'm gonna punch your fucking face in. Repeatedly."

"I promise. Nothing will happen. I'd die before I let anything happen to Kurt."

Burt looked into Blaine's eyes. Instead of being relieved, it scared him that he knew Blaine was telling the truth.

Burt wrapped his arms around Kurt and held him tightly.

"You be careful. Call me every day and, I mean it, Sunday night you'd better be back here."

Kurt nodded. He gave Carol a hug and walked out the door.

Carol and Burt stood in the doorway and watched them leave.

"Burt...why do I get the feeling that, if things do get rough, he is actually safer with Blaine than he would be here?"

Burt sighed. "Because he is. I don't know what it is about that kid but, I get the feeling he would kill for Kurt. In a heartbeat. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

By 5:00 pm, Friday afternoon, Burt was relieved that he let the boys leave the night before.

The phone at the shop rang non-stop. Reporters called, looking for Kurt. Jerks called to say insulting things about gays. Reporters from nearby towns showed up, wanting to speak with the gay lover of Senator Anderson's son. Burt finally gave up, closed up shop and went home.

Home was a nightmare.

Nationally, it was a slow news cycle so media, that would have normally never paid attention to a story about a fairly unknown state senator, jumped on the story. The fact that it was about gay teens, homophobia and politics made it even juicier.

By 3:00 pm, local reporters and nosy neighbors had gathered in front of the Hummel-Hudson home, hoping to interview Kurt or catch a glimpse of him. There were rumors that anti-gay protesters planned to show up Saturday morning. Pro-gay groups were also reported to be on their way to show support.

Carol peeked out the window and sighed as a CNN van pulled up. "By tomorrow, we are going to be trapped. What are we going to do?"

Burt looked at her. "Nothing. No comment."

"I know this sounds crazy but...should we try to get in touch with Blaine's parents or his father's campaign?"

"No. Let the bastard drown."

James Anderson was drowning. In bourbon.

All the staffers had left the house in order to shift media attention to campaign headquarters however, there were still several news vans and reporters staked outside the Anderson home, hoping for a glimpse of poor, abused, gay Blaine.

James, Elaine and Phil were holed up inside. The official media statement was that the Anderson family was retreating from the public eye to deal with the damaging effects this harmful, hurtful and completely fabricated story had inflicted upon their son. The problem of course, was that Blaine wasn't there and they had no idea where he was.

Elaine asked the obvious question. "What happens if he is spotted somewhere? People will know we lied."

James shrugged and downed another glass of bourbon. He really didn't give a fuck.