The events that followed the Sadie Hawkins dance and how they changed the course of Blaine Anderson's life. Oneshot. Rated for violence.
Angels Watching Over Us
"Blaine, do you want to get going?" John Hemming held out his hand, "I've had a really great time. I'm glad you decided to ask me," he added shyly. John was the only other out kid in Blaine's school. He was tall, with blonde hair and green eyes.
Blaine took the outstretched hand as he looked back towards the dance. He couldn't believe what a night he had. When he realized he was gay at thirteen, he never thought he would get to have nights like this, nights where he could just be happy and believe that everything would work out alright.
He thought he would have to wait until he left Ohio to ever find someone to hold his hand. Even though John didn't really make him feel a whole lot – he was there, and he was real. When John had agreed to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with Blaine, that was the icing on the cake. Blaine had felt more hope in that instant than he had felt since he came out at thirteen.
They walked hand in hand towards the back of the school where Blaine's mom was picking them up. They plotted to meet back there so they could avoid traffic. The faculty members were huddled in a group by the entrance, and they just stared when the pair walked by.
John and Blaine walked across the front of the school, not talking, just enjoying the silence and the camaraderie they found in each other. When they turned the corner, they saw a group of boys standing there – including Nate, a boy who set out every day with one mission, to humiliate John, and to a lesser extent, Blaine.
"Hey fags!" the group of boys jeered. ""Did you have a FABULOUS time?" the biggest one, Nate, asked doing his stereotypical impersonation, complete with a wrist movement.
Blaine felt John's hand tighten around his own, "Please. Just keep walking. They aren't worth it."
"Hemming, is that your girlfriend? She's really pretty." Blaine wasn't as well known as John, so he wasn't as used to the bullying. But he also knew that they knew his name. Just last week they'd called him "Blaine Up the Asserson."
John just kept pulling Blaine towards the parking lot, "Seriously. Don't even look back."
"Hey Anderson, we're talking to you too. Or is your throat too scratched up from sucking so many dicks?"
Blaine felt the anger well up inside his chest, "Shut up, okay?" He turned around and pulled John with him, "We're just trying to have a good night."
Nate stepped forward, poking a finger into Blaine's chest, "What did you just tell me to do?"
"Shut up." Blaine voice shook, but he didn't break eye contact with the boy.
"See, I would, but I don't take requests from girls," Nate pulled on Blaine's shirt, breaking his hold on John.
"Leave him alone, Nate." John warned, stepping forward to stand next to Blaine.
"Do you want to take the fall for your princess?" Nate let go of Blaine's shirt, and moved towards John, pushing him, "because that can be arranged."
"We just want to go home."
Nate gave a shallow laugh, "Wrong answer." Blaine barely had time to react when Nate's fist connected with John's cheek. John fell to the ground quickly, but scrambled to get back up. Before he was even standing, Nate kicked him hard in the ribs.
"Stop it!" Blaine yelled, hoping to get attention from the faculty members that weren't too face away. He moved towards Nate, knowing that he couldn't hold him off.
One of the other boys walked forward and punched Blaine, and he felt his nose crush under the force of the blow. Tears sprang unto Blaine's yes as he fell to his knees. Blood was all over his hands and the front of his shirt. He had to adjust to breathing out of his mouth, and when he did, he could taste the blood falling into his mouth.
He opened his eyes when he heard John cry out, and saw Nate kick him in the head. John finally stopped fighting back so Nate turned his attention back to Blaine.
"He put up a fight, but I don't think a hobbit like you will," He pushed Blaine to the side, slamming his head into the concrete. "You're a fucking disgrace, Anderson. Even your family thinks so." Blaine felt several people kicking him in the legs, ribs, and shoulders. He tried to scream, but nothing came out, so he laid there and tried to protect his head.
John was groaning on the ground, and it gave Blaine hope that maybe they could both be okay.
Nate gave a particularly hard kick to Blaine's stomach, causing Blaine to throw up all over the sidewalk. "Please," Blaine gasped, feeling himself lose consciousness. He was no longer sure if the blood was from his nose, his arm, his head, or his stomach.
"Aw. So polite." Nate chided before kicking him again.
Blaine drifted in and out of consciousness. He heard his mother scream when she came looking for them, felt her arms wrapped around him and she tried to stop the bleeding. He recognized the flashing red and blue lights when the ambulance and police arrived. When he saw a man standing over him and putting a mask carefully over his mouth, he let his eyes fall closed. He stopped fighting.
The EMTs worked on both John and Blaine. John somehow managed to be sitting up and breathing on his own, though he almost collapsed when he saw Blaine laying on the ground, not moving.
When Blaine opened his eyes again, he saw himself with the doctors around him. His clothes had been cut off and his entire body was bloody. He was covered in bruises that were dark purple. His nose looked broken, as did one of his arms.
They were pumping blood into his body and murmuring about internal injuries and swelling.
"Hello?" He asked, expecting someone to explain exactly what was going on.
No one answered.
"HELLO?"
"They can't hear you, dear," a calm voice said.
Blaine turned a saw a woman sitting on the window seat. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and a slight smile played on her lips. She was wearing a long white dress, her chestnut hair fell to her shoulders in curls. What Blaine noticed the most though, was her vibrant blue eyes.
"Then how can you?" he questioned.
Her smile turned sad, "That doesn't matter."
Blaine understood, "I'm sorry." The woman in front of him looked so young. "Does that mean…" He understood what that could mean for him, when he looked at his body, he wasn't moving. The heart rate monitor showed that his heart was still beating, though it was weak.
The woman stood and seemed to glide over to him, "I believe it to be your decision. You could come with me. But I think you should decide to go back." He eyes pleaded with him.
Blaine became angry, "Why? So someone else can come and hurt me more? So people can tear me down? I got out of here, isn't that enough? I'm here because people tried to kill me for who I loved, that's never going to change, so I'll only get hit again."
The line on the monitor went flat.
"See, it's over." Blaine pulled his hand from the woman's, "Do I get to go to Hell now?"
The woman winced at the word Hell, "It's not over yet," her voice came out in a whisper.
Blaine hadn't been paying attention to his body, and he felt a pull as paddles connected with his chest. They were trying to revive him. He moved closer to his body, but reached out and took her hand again. He didn't want to go back.
The women limply held his hand, "Please go," her voice was broken.
"Why?" the woman seemed happy enough when she first got here.
"I don't have completely unselfish reasons, Blaine," he didn't remember telling her his name, "There are so many people that love you. People who need you. There is a person who hasn't even met you yet that needs you so much."
The paddles connected again, but he held firmly to her hands, "Explain."
"I cannot. But please, Blaine, someone needs you. You will save his life and make him happy again. You will give him strength and he will give you the will to love again. I'm saving your life so you can save his." She paused as the doctors prepared to try a final time, "Please."
Blaine nodded and let go of her hand. The doctors gave his chest another shock and he disappeared from view.
The woman cried happy tears. She walked over to his now alive body and touched his arm, head, nose, and stomach. She gave his body the strength to heal itself.
She didn't heal his broken heart though, that was her son's job.
----------------------------------------------
Blaine was running very late for Warbler's practice. He just gotten off the phone with John Hemming, who was studying abroad in London for the last two years of high scool. He rushed down the steps, pushing through the crowd.
"Excuse me?" someone called, saying something else but Blaine couldn't pay attention.
When he turned he saw bright blue eyes that he recognized.
This was the boy he had to save.
This was the boy who was going to save him.
Kurt.