Broken Angel

Oh broken angel

Were you sad when he crushed all your dreams?

Oh broken angel

Inside you're dying 'cause you can't believe

He would leave you alone

And leave you so cold

When you were his daughter

But the blood in your veins

As you carry his name

Turns thinner than water

You're just a broken angel

Broken Angel – Boyce Avenue

Harry Carson was growing more and more weary of his job within the Anderson household. He had worked for them for more than thirty years, watched both of their sons' grow up, and witnessed first hand how differently they'd been treated by their parents from day one. Outgoing, loud, sporty Cooper was clearly the favourite, the apple of his parents' eye and he got everything he could possibly ever want or need to boot. By contrast shy, quiet, musical Blaine was very much treated as the outcast of the family. Carson couldn't remember the last time he had actually seen the Anderson's show any affection to the teenager, not even when he was a tiny innocent baby. He sighed as he thought through all that he'd observed since the petrified boy had come out to his parents' at a disastrous family meal, aged just fourteen. The butler was also aware that the abuse was getting worse; he had seen the growing collection of empty Bourbon bottles and noticed Blaine sneaking into the house with more and more bandages and cover up make up. Shaking his head, Carson sighed again, getting back to the job at hand and following the knowledge that his own father had passed down to him, the business of your employer is no business of your own, so stay out of it and focus on your own family.

Hearing the loud crash and thud that seemed to reverberate around the usually silent mansion, Carson's brow creased in confusion. He placed the silverware he had been polishing down and followed the sound to the bottom of the stairs, his heart hammering in his throat and his entire body fighting the urge to throw up.

Rushing to the bundle lying at the bottom of the extravagant double staircase he dropped to his knees, his breath leaving him in a rush when he turned the unconscious teenager over. Blood was trickling down his black and blue face from both his nose and forehead, his right arm sticking out at a weird angle, yellowing faded bruises mixing with bright blues and purples all up and down his startlingly pale arms. Rivers of crimson spread across his wrists from deliberate cuts, scars and healing cuts almost highlighted in the blood.

"Oh Blaine," He murmured, brushing the teenager's unruly curls away from his eyes and reaching to take his cell phone from his pocket, dialling 911 with trembling fingers.

The older gentleman sat with the boy humming softly under his breath and stroking his curls until the paramedics burst through the doors. Watching them instantly take over, giving Blaine the care he so desperately needed. Slipping on his coat, the man silently slipped out of the side door, knowing that he was leaving the disturbed house for the final time as he headed to the police station, ready to report atrocities that he should have reported years earlier.

Carole smiled softly to herself as she straightened her scrubs; nodding to the various colleagues she passed on her way to the nurse's station. "Good evening Jayne," She chuckled as the young nurse jumped and turned to glare at her friend.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," She gasped, one hand placed over her heart. "But good evening. Ready for a slow one?"

"Has it really been that bad?"

The blonde woman sat at the desk nodded and sighed gently. "Yep, Callum's just given me the handover and it's pretty dire. Great day for kids' don't get me wrong, but that means a reaaaaaaaally slow night on the paeds ward for us."

Carole nodded, "Has anyone been admitted today at all?"

Jayne smiled softly, grabbing two files and handing them to Carole, "Just the two, a young girl with a bad case of appendicitis who Sophie's just taken up for surgery with Doctor Davison. Her parents' are waiting in the family room for news." Watching Carole nod whilst looking over the files, Jayne pulled the second one from Carole's grasp, holding it close. "The second's a teenage boy Carole, a John Doe."

"He doesn't have his parents' with him or any I.D.?" Carole frowned, perplexity and anger mingling on her features as she tried to understand why a parent would leave their child alone in a situation that would require hospital treatment.

Jayne winced heavily, "No...erm...it looks like it's an abuse case Carole, as well as attempted suicide." Jayne watched as Carole's face schooled into a look of horror, much as her own had when Callum had led her to the room to check on the boy a half hour earlier. The younger nurse squeezed Carole's hand gently as the older woman attempted to wrap her head around how anyone could possibly harm their own child. "The poor kid has cuts and bruises everywhere and his right arm's broken in two places, with two fractured ribs, which they think are from his fall down the stairs, but there's no guarantee on that. Especially seeing has how there are similar multiple healing fractures which have been strained again from his fall. There are also cigar and cigarette burns all over his legs and finger marks around his neck. Unsurprisingly it's been too much for him and he cut earlier today. Judging by the scars on his arms it's not the first time, just the first time he's gone too deep. The paramedics are assuming it was the butler who was with him when they arrived, but he left before actually giving them a name." The woman shuddered slightly, trying to rid her brain of the image of the black and blue boy lying in the crisp white sheets. "He just...god Carole, he looks so tiny even in that small hospital bed," She whispered, never having seen such a bad abuse case in her short four years as a nurse. "He's still unconscious."

Carole nodded, feeling the extreme urge to drag Finn and Kurt kicking and screaming back from Miami and New York respectively and hold them as close as she could get them for as long as she could get away with. "What room's he in?" She managed to croak out, moving her hand to rub Jayne's back comfortingly.

"206."

Squeezing her young colleagues shoulder once more, Carole moved off in the direction of the room in question, taking a deep breath to steady herself before gently pushing open the door. Fighting the instincts that seemed to be flooding her senses to turn and run, she moved slowly to the hospital bed, taking in the IV drip and the continuous beeping of the machines letting her know her charge was still alive.

Sadly, she reached out and took the boy's hand, careful to avoid the large wads of gauze wrapped around his wrists and the adorning bruises that seemed to be everywhere. "Oh sweetheart," She whispered, lifting her hand to run through the mop of dark curls on his head, her eyes flickering up to his face, her movements instantly stopping, her breath catching in her throat as she emitted a strangled cry. "Oh god no," Her hands started to tremble as she took in the features that she knew so well, the out of control curls usually plastered to the boy's head with gel, the face so peaceful and serene in his passed out state that usually held so much excitement and love for all of those surrounding him, the short stature that he was constantly yet lovingly teased about. "Blaine," She whispered, the first tears making tracks down her face as she continued to brush the curls from his face, bending to place a feather light kiss to his forehead, "I'll be back in five minutes sweetheart, I promise. I promise we'll keep you safe, we won't ever let them get to you again Blaine, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Pressing another kiss to his forehead and letting her lips linger there momentarily, Carole swiped the tears from her cheeks and started back towards the nurse's station.

"Blaine Devon Anderson, Jayne."

The young nurse popped her head up in confusion from where she was typing up notes, "What?"

"The John Doe in 206, his full name's Blaine Devon Anderson, pull up his records please," Carole murmured, avoiding her colleague's eye as she headed straight for the phone at the nurse's station.

Jayne's forehead creased in confusion as she eyed Carole's defeated stature carefully, a flicker of recognition going through her at the name before she felt the light bulb turn on completely. "Wait, your step-son's ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, pretty much the boy that Burt and I considered our third son, at least up until about a month or so ago, when he and Kurt broke up and Blaine cut all contact with us too. I should've known something was wrong. How stupid could I have been? The second Kurt mentioned cheating I should've seen it." Carole laughed humourlessly as Jayne searched for Blaine's records, "God, how could we have not seen something was wrong? Blaine cheating...it never made sense to Burt and I, this is the boy that considered texting to be cheating last year. He's not the type of boy to just throw himself into somebody's bed, no matter how he's feeling or what he's bottling up inside."

Jayne reached over and cut the call Carole was making off, watching her friend with sad eyes. "Before you call Burt Carole, you need to know something else," Jayne whispered, Carole's shocked green eyes searching her worried hazel ones carefully. "According to his records, Blaine was also diagnosed with leukaemia seven weeks ago. It would account for some of the bruising, not much of it, and certainly not the cuts, fractures or the burns, but some of the bruises." Carole let out another strangled cry and picked the phone back up, Jayne standing to wrap an arm around her friend, "I'm so sorry Carole."

The brunette nodded, leaning heavily on her friend. "Come on Burt, pick up, pick up," She muttered into the receiver, biting sharply into her bottom lip, "Pick up the god damn phone."

Burt sat with his head in his hands, trying to block out the screaming match going on above his head. Ever since Santana had arrived on the doorstep demanding to speak with Sam an hour earlier the entire house had been shaking with the intensity of their fight over a certain blonde girl. His eyes glancing upwards as silence flooded the house, Burt wondered momentarily if one of them had killed the other before a loud crash echoed through the house and they were off again, Santana's Spanish overpowering Sam's voice instantly.

Wincing at the crash and the screaming, Burt sighed heavily, pushing away the files that he had been working through and running his hands over his face. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed his eyes to flicker over the photos lining the wall of the dining room, depicting both Kurt and Finn from babyhood to adulthood. He cracked a small smile at the first one of the boys' as proper brother's, from their first family holiday eighteen months ago, Kurt shrieking and looking horrified while a smirking Finn attempted to show him the fish he had just caught.

Jumping when his phone started to screech beside him, his smile widened as Carole's work number flashed up at him from the screen. Swiping the phone unlocked, he expected to hear her ranting about an incompetent colleague doing something stupid, or a patient resisting treatment. What he had not expected however was for Carole to be a sobbing, stuttering mess at the other end of the line.

Eyes widening, the man jumped up from his seat and started to pace the floor. "Carole, Carole calm down. Honey, please try to calm down or hand the phone to someone else who can tell me what's going on." He ran a hand over his head, smiling softly as Carole worked to control her sobs, her breathing hitching slightly. The feeble serenity that surrounded Burt for a matter of seconds gradually fell away as Carole managed to choke out a simple sentence. Burt's face turned ashen, tears welling in his own eyes as his pacing ground to a standstill. "He what? Carole, why would Blaine..." Burt listened to her explain, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as more and more pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit together in his head. "I'm on my way. If he wakes up, just let him know that we love him and that he's safe. That we're never letting anything happen to him ever again."

Hanging up, he ran his hands down his face, his eyes catching on two pairs of terrified ones watching him closely from between the staircase railings. "How much of that did you guys' hear?"

"What's wrong with Blaine?" Santana whispered her hand clasped tightly around Sam's, who in Burt's eyes had never looked younger in the two years in which he'd known the blonde kid.

Burt sighed gently his eyes flickering back to the pictures featuring such innocence as he debated what exactly to tell them. "Blaine, he erm, he tried to take his own life earlier today." Burt's eyes slammed shut at the strangled sob that left Sam's mouth, Santana's arm instantly wrapping around the younger boy as she shushed and rocked him. Crouching in front of the two teenagers sat on his stairs Burt took one of their hands in each of his. "There's more, but I'm really not sure whether or not I should tell you." Burt worried his bottom lip between his teeth, noting the way in which the pair sat up a little taller, their gazes steeling slightly.

"He's my best friend Burt, please."

Nodding, Burt ran a gentle hand over Sam's hair, trying to soothe him slightly as he tenderly pushed the duo apart, situating himself between them and wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders'. "Blaine...it looks like he's been abused, and for quite some time too." The father pulled Santana closer as she let out a little sob. "He also has leukaemia." Just like that, a dam was broken for all three of them, Burt trying to stay strong for the teenagers as he pulled them tighter to him, tears streaming from his eyes. "Do the pair of you want to go to the hospital with me?"

"Just try and keep me away," Santana sassed, pulling back to look at Burt with a determined gaze. "No one will ever touch one hair on his head again or they'll have to go through me."

Carole was sat as close to Blaine as the plastic seat would allow her to get, her knees tucked up to her chest and one hand clasping his lightly, her thumb stroking patterns into the back of his hand. Picking at a thread on her lilac scrubs with her spare hand. She let her eyes wander once more over Blaine's unconscious figure, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. Internally, she could feel her mind at war with itself, berating her for not having kept in contact with Blaine following that dreaded break up six weeks ago. He was one of her boys', he had been for almost as long as Kurt had been, and she had let him down. Badly.

"There was nothing you could've done you know." The voice from the door made Carole jump as she turned to look at Jayne, wiping away the few tears leaking from her eyes.

Shaking her head, she squeezed Blaine's hand a little tighter. "No I should have kept in touch with him. I should have..."

"Carole," Jayne interrupted firmly. "You know as well as I do that children of abuse become experts at covering it up. They think that they're the ones to blame, the ones in the wrong. Blaine's probably been hiding this as long as you've known him, if not longer."

"But I..."

"No. It is not your fault, it is the monsters' he called his parents. The ones who were supposed to protect him against everything." Stopping, the young woman took a deep breath and ran a hand carefully through Blaine's tangled curls. "He'll get through this Carole, but he'll need all the support he can get for that. He will beat the leukaemia and he will get passed all of this, but emotionally, he is going to need you guys' so much."

"Yeah, I'm never leaving him alone again," Carole laughed gently, "I will wrap him in bubble wrap and follow his every move if I have to, if it keeps him safe."

Chuckling softly, Jayne shook her head, turning to leave the room. "Callum said to tell you he's covering the rest of your shift tonight, no arguments, he says a double won't kill him and Morgan says to take all of the time off that you need." Smiling at Carole's stunned expression Jayne shrugged, "Just focus on getting your boy better. I'll send Burt along as soon as he gets here."

Carole just nodded, her mind elsewhere as the boy in the bed started to murmur unconsciously, his face screwing up in pain and fear, yet his eyes never opening. Frowning, she was instantly out of her seat and hovering at the edge of the bed, brushing his curls out of his eyes and muttering soothingly, trying her best to calm the whimpering boy down even as his cries grew louder, a steady stream of tears beginning to course down his face.

Blaine sat bolt upright with a scream, the tears coming faster and harder as he tried to curl himself up into a protective ball.

"Blaine, Blaine honey no, you'll hurt your injuries further if you try to do that." Carole tried not to cry herself as Blaine's wide, petrified amber eyes found hers, his breathing stuttering on the verge of hyperventilation, the whimpers soothing only slightly as he recognised Carole and began to notice where he was. Out of options, Carole pushed him forwards slightly, climbing onto the bed behind him and pulling Blaine back into her chest, placing one arm around his chest and resting the other lightly on his waist in an attempt to get his breathing back to normal. "Breathe Blaine, come on sweet boy. Feel how I'm breathing and try and get your breaths into the same rhythm." Gently, she rubbed her hand across his chest, wincing slightly when his hands made fisted her scrubs, his legs bending and unwinding again with simple task of breathing. "You're safe sweetheart, you are safe and you are loved. I will never let them near you again Blaine, never."

Feeling his sobs continue, Carole felt like she was drowning, running out of options to calm Blaine down before he placed increased stress on his injuries. Reaching up to push his forehead back onto her shoulder, she smiled sadly when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, a feat that Finn had always done after a nightmare when he was younger. One hand still rested across his chest, she lifted the other to run gently through his curls. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away." Finishing with a whisper, Carole simply wrapped her arms tighter around Blaine, feeling his breaths finally even out against her neck, the boy falling back into a deep slumber once more.

"Jayne, where is he?" Burt yelled as he rounded the corner to the nurses' station at full speed, his feet almost sliding from under his even when Santana and Sam crashed into him from behind.

"Room 206," She murmured cautiously, here eyes flickering over the two teenagers as she chewed her bottom lip, "But Burt, I'm not sure I would take them in there, it's...it's not good."

Santana's eyes blazed with fire as she stepped closer to the nurse, "Listen lady, you try and stop me going into that room, where Blaine clearly needs to know that he is loved and safe, I will go all Lima Heights on your ass!"

"Sam, take Santana along to the room." Burt muttered, nudging the wide eyed, blonde teenager forwards slightly so he could grab Santana's wrist and pull her away from the quickly turning volatile situation. "I'm sorry Jayne, it's been kind of a stressful night, and I really don't have the heart to pull them away. I think they just need to see Blaine for themselves and see that he will be alright eventually."

Nodding, the young nurse sighed softly. "Sorry, I just..."

"No, I know, I get it," Burt shrugged, a sad expression filtering over his face.

"I remember when he came in with Kurt once to drop off Carole's lunch when she forgot it. He was such a bouncing, happy ball of energy. The two of them ended up staying for over an hour after Blaine started to sing Disney songs to the kids."

Burt laughed gently, "Yeah, that's Blaine alright."

"I didn't even recognise him Burt. I mean, I just let Carole wander into that room because I didn't have a clue who was in that bed. Even though I spent a whole afternoon with the pair of them in the summer."

Burt squeezed her hand reassuringly, "Jayne, from what Carole's told me she barely recognised him and hell the kid practically lived at our house for the past year and a half." Hugging her carefully, he squeezed her hand once more before following the route Santana and Sam had just disappeared down.

"Oh god Blaine," Santana moaned the second that the duo crashed into the room, taking in the sight of Blaine sleeping fitfully in Carole's arms, cuts, bruises and bandages covering just about every inch of him.

Sam shook his head, one hand clasped over his mouth as he took off across the room to the adjoining bathroom, promptly emptying the contents of his stomach when he reached the toilet, tears streaming from his eyes. Santana and Carole winced at the retching as the young girl crept closer to the bed, carefully taking Blaine's hand, pressing her lips to it.

"Sorry," Sam whispered, stepping back into the room after rinsing his mouth out, vowing himself to be better at controlling his thoughts and feelings once Blaine woke up.

Holding the arm that wasn't currently wrapped around Blaine out, Carole beckoned the boy towards her, taking a firm grasp on his hand when he tiptoed close enough. "Now you two listen to me. Blaine is going to be fine, god knows he's probably one of the strongest people that any of us know, and that's before all of this. He's been through so much from growing up being overshadowed by that imbecile Cooper," The teenagers laughed softly, unable to help themselves as images of Blaine's older brother crossed their minds, "To that god damn Sadie Hawkins dance in his Freshman year. Blaine can get through this, but he's going to need us there."

"Every step of the way," Sam agreed, placing one hand over Blaine's steadily beating heart and leaning his head on top of Carole's, her arm winding around his waist.

"Hmm, we're never leaving him alone again as far as I'm concerned. Not to mention what I'll do to that family of his if I ever so much as see one of them again," Burt growled from the doorway, the three occupants eyeing him closely as his eyes never left Blaine, taking in the black eyes and the bandaged arm with a worried, guarded expression.

"Santana, take over here for me for a second, yeah?" Carole murmured softly, brushing back Blaine's curls and kissing his forehead once more as the latina girl nodded, waiting for Carole to shuffle out from behind the sleeping teenager, promptly taking her place and tugging Sam onto the bed with them too.

Tugging her husband from the room, Carole swiftly fell into his arms, breaking down even as she felt his own tears hit her head. "How did we not notice Burt? Doctor Iley says that some of the healed fractures are literally years old. This has been going on for years. How did we not know?"

Pulling back, Burt gently placed two hands either side of her face, resting his forehead to hers. "Because to us, he was always smiling, bouncing, happy Blaine. Other than a few comments here and there about the likes of his parents not being too accepting or about Cooper being the 'golden child', bloody moron, there's nothing which even suggested it."

Carole hummed slightly in agreement, her face twisting in disgust at the sound of Cooper's name. "I tried calling Cooper, I figured that he might actually want to know what was happening to his baby brother, but all he cared about was that he had an audition tomorrow. Then he started going on how he could maybe use the emotions of what was happening to Blaine to get roles, knowing what it felt like to have a dying brother." Carole was practically shaking with rage, Burt's hands clasping in fists at his sides. "It was disgusting. I told him not to bother that we were taking care of Blaine now and that he could get stuffed. Then I hung up on him."

"That's my girl," Burt chuckled softly, pecking her forehead, "We're Blaine's family now, have been for a long time. I just wish I'd seen that six weeks ago."

"Burt that brings up one more thing..."

"Kurt."

"Dad, hey!"

Burt smiled at the happiness in Kurt's voice, the first bit that he had heard in the last month and a half since Blaine's impromptu trip to New York which had ended in his son calling him hysterical, threatening to pack it all in and come home for good. "Hey kiddo."

"What's wrong? Is it your heart? Is something wrong with Carole?"

"Kurt, Kurt, KURT!" Burt smiled wanly at the other people milling around outside the hospital doors, apologising with his eyes as he tried to calm Kurt's histrionics down, making a split decision of his own in that second. "Nothing's wrong kiddo."

"Then why do you sound sad?" There was a slight shuffle on the end of the phone as Kurt muttered something to someone quickly, "And Rachel says to tell you hi."

Burt shuddered slightly, guilt creeping through his veins even as he knew he was doing the right thing for both Kurt and Blaine. "I just miss you kid, and I know that you aren't coming home for Thanksgiving, but you'll be home for Christmas right?"

"Yeah, of course Dad. I miss you too, so much."

"I know kiddo, I know, just a month a half though and then you'll be home." Burt shut his eyes, running a hand across his forehead. "I just, I really love you Kurt, you know that? You're my whole world kid at the end of the day. You know that you can come to me with anything ever right? I never want you to be in a position where you're hurt or scared and you feel like you have no one to turn to because I will always be here for you at the drop of a hat."

Burt smiled softly at the shuddered breath from the other end of the line, waiting momentarily while Kurt collected himself. "Yeah Dad, I know. I love you too. Are you sure that nothing's wrong?"

Watching Carole smile sadly at him from the end of the hall, he quirked an eyebrow slightly at her, his stomach churning when she mouthed 'he's awake.' "No kiddo, nothing's wrong. Listen, I've got to go, but stay safe Kurt and call me with anything."

"I will Dad, speak to you later."

Crossing to where Carole was standing, her eyes still rimmed with red, Burt wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I couldn't do it Carole," He croaked, burying his face in her hair, "I couldn't tell him."

Nodding gently against him, Carole took a deep breath. "That may be for the best though. Blaine needs time to heal, he's going to need us through this Burt, he looks so broken."

"Let's go see him then, and let him know just how much we love him."

Letting Carole drag him into the room, Burt held back a shudder when Blaine glanced to the open doorway, almost as if he was staring straight through them. His eyes were blank, holding none of the upbeat hyperactive attitude that they were all used to from the short teenager, and despite having Santana wrapped around him on one side and Sam on the other along with a concoction of blankets, Blaine was trembling violently, his bottom lip quivering constantly. In that minute, Burt knew that he'd done the right thing by keeping this from Kurt, it was going to take a long time and a lot of healing to bring back the Blaine they all knew and loved and for now, his attention was solely focused on the petrified boy in the bed.