Blaine woke Kurt with a kiss. 

Kurt leapt back, his mouth tingling as if a host of tiny bees had stung his lips. He sat straight up and brought his fingertips to rest on his chin, poking gently. His mouth felt numb, poison seeping into his tongue. He woke further, inch by inch, noticing a stifling, musty odor hanging in the air. He inhaled sharply. It slipped in through his sinuses, permeating every cell in his body, its stale fingers threatening to strangle him. 

Startled and nervous, hyperaware, Kurt glanced quickly over at the sleeping figure beside him. The thick comforter rose and fell gently with the shallow breaths of his five-year-old son, Tracy. The poor boy suffered from nightmares – horrific night terrors that never seemed to leave him alone. But curled into Kurt's side, he slept peacefully, his face glowing in the still moonlight. The light mingled with vines growing on the trellises outside the window, and tossed creepy shadows across the room, decorating the walls with their eerie silhouettes. A dark figure crossed the floor. Kurt pulled the blankets up to his chest, a hand reflexively moving to his neck to protect his throat.

“B-Blaine,” Kurt called tentatively into the darkness. “Blaine, is that you?”

The figure flew to Kurt's side with extraordinary speed. Blaine kissed him again, toying with him, like a cat with a mouse. The odor became more intense as Blaine kissed him deeper, the scent sending stitches of ice over Kurt's skin. But Blaine's kiss pieced Kurt together from his fragments of fear. Kurt put a hand to Blaine's cheek and began to forget, fingertips tracing the rough textures of Blaine's unshaven skin. It comforted Kurt for the moment to feel Blaine close to him. It felt almost like love again…tenderness. Human tenderness. 

Then Kurt's fingers found something wet and oily – a swath of it coating his jaw.

Kurt slowly pulled his lips from Blaine's. He held his fingers in front of his eyes, struggling to see them in the dim light. Swiftly, Blaine caught Kurt's hand by the wrist and stuck the two fingers in his mouth. He sucked the substance from Kurt's fingers, plying his game of seduction hard, then pulled them past his lips with a devious smile on his face.

“How's my son?” Blaine asked, eyes shifting to the lump in the bed.

“He's frightened,” Kurt said. “Terrified, actually. No matter what I try, his nightmares keep coming back.”

“Which nightmare is that?” Blaine asked.

“You know which one,” Kurt replied defensively. “About the creature that comes in through his window at night.”

“What is he so afraid of?” Blaine asked with a wicked laugh. He brought his face close to Tracy's. “Is he afraid some horrible, inhuman demon is going to suck his blood and murder him in his sleep?”

“No,” Kurt said, giving Blaine a shove, something inside him needing to keep Blaine away from Tracy – to keep Tracy safe. “He's afraid some horrible, inhuman creature is going to kill me.”

Blaine snapped his head to look at Kurt, damp curls falling around his face.

“So he sleeps with you…” 

“He sleeps with me to protect me,” Kurt finished. 

Blaine straightened, gazing at his son with pride.

“Brave boy,” he said.

Tracy's eyes flew open at the sound of his father's sinister voice. He sat upright and stared at the man sitting beside his father on the bed. Blaine and his son regarded one another, and Blaine smiled, the corners of his mouth creeping up toward his eyes, exposing dangerous teeth. The boy's mouth fell open. He leapt to Kurt's side, his thin arms encircling Kurt's stomach. 

“Daddy!” he whispered. “He's here!  He's here! The monster is here!”

“No, Tracy,” Kurt said, putting a protective arm around his son's small, shuddering body, and kissing his forehead. “No, it's okay.” 

Kurt reached clumsily over his son to switch on the lamp. 

“It's not the creature from your dreams. It's not a nightmare.  It's just your father…”

Kurt managed to switch on the lamp, but the light fell on an empty room lay. A second later, father and son heard the faint sound of the bathroom door click shut and the shower water turn on.

“You see, there's no monster,” Kurt said, sounding somewhat skeptical in spite of himself. “There's nothing here to be frightened of. I'm here, and your father's…in the bathroom.” Tracy looked up at Kurt, his drowsy eyes puffy and red from crying. Kurt smiled as casually as he could, and kissed the boy's head of brown curls. 

“See,” Kurt repeated, “there is absolutely nothing to be frightened of.  Daddy's home now, and he'll protect us. Why don't you take monkey and go to bed while you're still sleepy, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” Tracy replied, drying his tears with the cuff of his pajama shirt. He grabbed his stuffed monkey in his little fist and climbed off the bed. With wobbly steps, he walked toward his room, his free hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Through their conjoined door, Kurt heard Tracy's bed springs squeak as he climbed under his comforter. Kurt sat and waited until the squeaking bed springs ceased and the house went still. When he was sure Tracy was fast asleep, he switched off the lamp and huddled under his sheets, clutching his pillow in his arms.

It seemed like hours before Blaine emerged from their bathroom. He slid beneath the covers, his skin and hair damp, his face turned from Kurt. He reached behind him for Kurt's hand and pulled his husband's arm around him.

“Where were you tonight?” Kurt asked.

“Just down the street,” Blaine replied quietly.

“At the piano bar?” Kurt asked, knowing there wasn't much down that way but a bodega and Farmer's Insurance office. “Did you have a gig?”

“Yeah,” Blaine replied. “That's it.”

“Funny,” Kurt said, treading slowly, knowing he was tempting fate, “you didn't smell like cigarettes or alcohol when you came in.”   

“Funny,” Blaine repeated dismissively.

Kurt swallowed hard.

“Were you with her?” Kurt asked. 

Blaine turned his head to look at him.

“Would that bother you?” he asked, smiling almost cruelly.

“No,” Kurt lied. “I said you could, didn't I? I know that's how you…” Kurt stopped, trying not to think about the way his husband ate, the way he lured prey to him, the things he did with them to whet his appetite – things Kurt felt were unnecessary. “Besides, it's really none of my business.”

“Then why did you…”

“I was only curious,” Kurt interrupted gruffly, turning his back to him. “If you don't want to answer me then you don't have to.”

Kurt felt Blaine move and wrap his arms around him. He kissed Kurt's cheek.

“Yes, I was,” he confessed. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Kurt said, tears welling in his eyes. “I knew. I always know.”

“Don't worry, my love,” Blaine said. “I won't be seeing her again.”

Kurt held his breath when Blaine kissed his neck, fangs brushing too close to his jugular. Love. Did Blaine even know how to love anymore? Or did he say it out of habit? He didn't have a soul, didn't feel compassion. Kurt knew that the night Blaine came home after having cheated on him with Eli, after confessing to being turned into a demon, that Kurt should have found a way to slaughter him then and there. But he couldn't, because he believed deep in his heart that somewhere inside Blaine the demon hid the soul of Blaine Devon Anderson-Hummel, his husband.

But as time went on, Kurt didn't know for sure anymore.

Kurt heard Blaine's breathing become slower, more regular. Right before Kurt drifted off to sleep, he finally let himself acknowledge what that musty odor was.

It smelled as if something had died.  

***

“Kurt.” The sound of his name spoken softly jarred Kurt awake. “Kurt, are you awake?”

“Hmm, I am now,” Kurt muttered, instantly on edge. The sound of Blaine's voice – calm and soothing - frightened him. Blaine didn't sound like the demon, but like the man Kurt loved. If this was some kind of trick – if this was the monster playing with him – he wished he would just kill him and be done with it.

“Do you remember the day we met?” Blaine asked.

It was close to sunrise, and a rare occasion that Blaine would actually be awake this early in the morning.

“On the staircase,” Kurt said. “At Dalton.” He leaned his head against Blaine's chin, and could feel him smiling.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Blaine said. “On the staircase at Dalton.”

“I remember.” Kurt felt his throat tighten, memories of a past life and past happiness flooding his brain. He coughed as he tried to push them from his mind. “Our lives were so simple then, Blaine. Don't you…don't you miss it?”

He wanted to ask Blaine for the hundredth time why he'd thrown it all away, but he didn't have the strength for that conversation anymore.

Blaine knew, and he sighed.

“Sometimes.”

“Do you remember that afternoon we spent at Tree Haven? After I graduated?” Kurt turned in Blaine's arms, needing to see him, hoping to see the man, and not the monster. “Remember the sunlight on the water, the sunset” - Kurt pulled his body closer, wrapping his entire being around Blaine's figure - “making love in the soft grass under the glow of a sky not quite day, not quite night?” Kurt saw Blaine's eyes shut. Kurt knew Blaine could see those images as clearly as he could. Kurt tightened his embrace. He could smell the night air in Blaine's hair, the musky stench of blood on his breath.

Kurt put his head on Blaine's bare chest. His skin felt smooth and slightly damp. Kurt could hear no heartbeat – stagnant blood coagulated in placid veins. 

“I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday,” Blaine said. “We made love in that park, outside, under the setting sun.”

“I looked into your eyes,” Kurt remembered aloud. “You were so…handsome. I was speechless.”

Blaine held on to his smile. “And now…”

“Now,” Kurt said with a heavy exhale, “I have more to say.”

“What more do you have to say, sweetheart?” Blaine asked, hoping to hear more about that time in the park, and how much in love they were. Instead, Kurt asked a question he'd been thinking of for a while but was afraid to ask.

“I was just wondering…”

“Yes?”

Kurt stared into Blaine's eyes, let Blaine know that he was not afraid.

“When are you going to kill me, too?”

Blaine didn't gasp. He didn't look surprised. He didn't seem ashamed, or offended. He leaned forward and kissed Kurt's forehead, holding him close.

“Not today, sweetheart,” he said. “Not today.”