Title: Counting bodies like sheep (to the rhythm of the war drums)
Rating: R (just to be on the safe side)
Characters/Pairing: Puck/Kurt established, Quinn, Gleeks, Burt, Carole
Genre: Angst, crossover, supernatural, horror
Warning: Crossover alert. Violence and swearing
Spoilers: Probably everything up to end of season 1 for Glee, general season 5 for Supernatural
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the universe. I wish I did though.
Summary: Kurt is back in school and healing fast, summer break is almost there and for a first time in a while everything seems to be alright. But then flashbacks start and Kurt finally remembers what he had done.
Word Count: 7.540
#1: To general viewers, if you're not familiar with the series this fic will make much more sense after you read "Sins of our fathers" and "We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood".
#2: The title is a name of song by Perfect Circle. TikiTyler9 made an awesome "Supernatural" video (called "Supernatural .") based on it, so look her up on YouTube if you haven't ever seen the show and want to know the whole thing looks like. Warning! Somewhat gory/violent (which the show is NOT, at least 90% of the time) and spoilerish for major plot points.
#3: Since we don't exactly know what the housing arrangements were between Hummels and Hudsons and since there is no "faggy lamp" disaster in this universe, I assumed that they still live together. That, plus this fic started way before that Burt/Finn showdown OR before we learned how Hummel household looks like, so don't sue me for taking some liberties here. Also, I do not know how schools in US operate, if they actually have school guards or something, but for the sake of the plot, I assumed that there was a guard watching school property after school closes.
#4: Bonus points to those that get two references to "Buffy" - one is quite obvious, but the other will be clear only to Buffy maniacs, I suppose ;)
Kurt fidgeted in his seat, desperately trying to pay attention to principal Figgins. The usually semi-comfortable chairs in the choir room now seemed like they were designed for torture and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a satisfying position.
Kurt pulled a little at the hem of his fingerless gloves. He tried to distract himself from the lecture the principal was giving to whole Glee club. The gloves were Gucci, from the latest collection and even though his dad made that face when he told him their price, he still allowed Kurt to buy them. They were soft and comfortable, thin black leather covered with layer of delicate lace. They fit perfectly over his hands and the pricy accessory didn't clash with his current outfit. They also covered his wrists well, hiding the ugly cuts and stitches from the outside world.
It was only his second day back at school after Berith had his merry way with him. Kurt had made his grand reappearance the day before. He walked into the main hall proudly – albeit a little stiffly, since he wasn't completely healed – and held his head high, not paying much attention to stares he received from other students. He had coordinated his clothes to go well with the array of fading black and purple bruises on his face. Kurt wasn't above using a touch of makeup to hide minor imperfections of his usually unblemished skin, but even he knew that his bruises were too extensive to be hidden with satisfying result.
Besides, it wasn't as if anyone in the school didn't already know what happened to him.
It took him some time to be first released from hospital and then go back to school. He was a little disappointed that he missed the Gaga assignment, but thankfully Artie had taped the whole thing and promised to burn him a CD later. The girls from Glee promised him an encore once he was up to dancing with them, which was pretty awesome. The soprano quickly caught up with the latest school gossip and Glee problems, including Tina's vampire debut, which made him laugh so hard he almost pulled stitches in his belly. His still aching ribs certainly didn't appreciate his good humor.
"That is my final word!"
Figgins' voice caused Kurt to snap back to reality, realizing that the principal was now arguing with Mr. Schuester and some members of the club.
"I cannot allow this to continue!" Figgins gestured widely at the Gleeks, clearly keeping his gaze away from Tina, as if still afraid of her vampire wrath. "Not only are your students carrying these satanic symbols for days now, but you as well? This is unacceptable, William!"
Mr. Schuester only shook his head, trying to stay calm.
"Like I have said many times, the symbols are protective in nature, not evil," Will's voice sounded tired, like he had enough of repeating the argument over and over.
"Plus," Rachel piped in "They are also a substantial part of Wicca religion. You can't forbid us from wearing religious emblems. It's against the law."
"You're not even a Wiccan, Ms. Berry!" Figgins threw his hands in the air in protest. "You're Jewish!"
"Hey! What do you have against Jews?" Puck sat up straighter in his seat, glaring at the older man.
There was a cacophony of voices as they all tried to shout over each other and be heard. Even the usually calm Tina argued with Figgins, without doubt trying to use some of that vampire phobia she installed in him few days ago.
"Enough!" The principal finally shouted, cutting off their arguments. "That is enough! The majority of students and their parents see these symbols for signs of evil! Unless you get rid of them, I will be forced to suspend all of you!"
There was a moment of tense silence, enough to hear pin drop at the other side of the room.
"Even if they help?"
They all turned towards the quiet voice, looking at Kurt who sat stiffly in his chair and wrapped his arms around his torso, as if to keep warm from chilly air.
"Even if they are symbols of an obscure religion, I fail to see how in the world they could be helpful, Mr. Hummel." Figgins shrugged, obviously thinking the conversation was over.
"They help me."
He could swear he heard few others hold their breath.
"This might be an obscure symbol to you, but the fact that they are protective in their nature... it helps me a lot. It was my idea to bring them to Glee club," Puck flinched slightly, turning his eyes away to glare at Figgins once again. "I thought... I thought after this vicious attack on school grounds where there were supposed to be guards..."
Kurt's eyes glazed with tears and a little sob caught in the back of his throat. Puck could hear Mercedes shifting in her seat, ready to approach the soprano any second now. He turned to her and shook his head lightly. When she gave him a confused look, he just mouthed "watch" to her and turned his attention back to the conversation.
"When... when this maniac got to me... it hurt so much, Mr. Figgins. The pain itself almost killed me. I screamed for help and held on, knowing that someone would hear me, that guards would be there any moment, but no one came," A tear rolled down Kurt's cheek and Puck could see Figgins flinching at the sight. Oh yeah. No one could resist the power of Kurt's baby blues filling with tears. "So if I turn to any kind of protection now, can you really hold it over me? Or the fact my friends want to support me in this long, painful, and expensive road to recovery? How am I supposed to tell my dad I've been suspended because I held on to one thing that makes me feel safe in the same room I was tortured in?"
Kurt burst out in a powerful sobs, curling in his seat and hiding his face in his hands. Mercedes was next to him in a flash, holding him and shielding him from Figgins' view. 'She quickly caught up', Puck thought.
Kurt couldn't have made himself more clear even if he had a "leave it alone or my father will sue your ass" sign over his head.
It was all true, though. They still had no idea about what happened to the guard that was supposed to be watching the school grounds in the evenings and also during the night shift. The only thing that matter to Gleeks though was the fact that the guard was not there to help them that night.
"I..." Figgins stammered, blocked by the sound of Kurt's sobbing. "I didn't know..."
"I think that's enough," Will whispered as he put his hand lightly on Figgins' shoulder, steering him towards the door of choir room. "He's very upset now; let's give him time to calm down."
They ended up in corridor just few feet from the choir room and Figgins dabbed a handkerchief to his sweating brow.
"I had no idea," he started, his mouth set in a thin line. "I think... I think that in these circumstances it wouldn't be wise to tell Mr. Hummel to loose that pendant. It would obviously be very traumatic to him right now."
'That, and you can't afford to be sued by one pissed off Burt Hummel', Will thought.
"I totally agree with you," Mr. Schuester smiled gently, his hand still resting at Figgins' bony shoulder. "What about rest of the club? We're only trying to show our support for Kurt, since he puts so much faith in the protectiveness of these symbols..."
"Yes," Figgins composed himself, straightening his shoulders from their defeated slump. "I suppose you can keep wearing them, at least for some time until Mr. Hummel feels better. I will talk to the parents that expressed their concerns about these pendants."
Will watched him go down the corridor. Turning back and heading to the choir room, he couldn't help to smirk a little.
"Well, that was quite impressive," He clapped his hands lightly as he entered the room, the rest of the Glee club sitting in something resembling a circle near Kurt. The boy shot him a winning smile, even if his eyes were still a little red.
"Yes, I believe it was," He laughed a little. "If there's one thing I know for sure, it's how to put up a good performance."
Kurt had to give Finn some credit; the taller boy looked only slightly queasy.
The hospital room was a little chilly despite the warm weather of near-summer. There was a tiny trail of goosebumps spreading up Kurt's arms as he sat shirtless on the examination bed and tried his best not to move. Doctor Morales, a tiny Spanish doctor that had taken care of him since his surgery, was busy removing stitches from the irritated post-op scar on his abdomen.
Finn had been in similar setting not so long ago when he was assisting Rachel when she thought she had lost her voice. The quarterback had to admit, the thought of their lead singer loosing her voice so close to next competition was unsettling at the time... but back then none of them could imagine anything scarier then regionals. But now, Finn had to stop a shudder as he looked at his near foster-brother. There was a wide array of bruises marring up Kurt's torso and back, a lot of them had already faded to almost nothing, but for someone who had seen them on daily basis they were still visible. He had a lot of bloody scratches on his skin that thankfully had healed completely. But the worst were the angry red scars on his belly and ragged slashes on both of his wrist. First from the surgery and the other from scalpel cutting deep into his flesh.
Finn watched as the dark sutures slipped out of Kurt's skin, the soprano wincing only a little when some of them tugged on his skin too hard. Finn had became familiar with these scars, as more then once he had helped Kurt change the bandages on his arms and stomach, whenever Burt was not available. Finn had to admit, most of the time Kurt kept his game face on and didn't show to anyone that his injuries were causing him pain. He brushed his discomfort away, as if it was not even worth mentioning. Except for the times when he woke up in the middle of the night, raised from sleep by nightmares and pulling on his healing incisions by accident. It was only then that Finn heard the other boy cry out in pain, often enough to wake others in their home as well.
"Alright, that should be it," Dr. Morales straightened up, giving a wince when his back popped loudly. "Do you still have the antibiotic cream I gave you on your last check-up?"
"Yes, there's plenty left." Kurt glanced at his irritated wrists and shrugged, reaching out for his shirt, folded neatly on the nearby chair.
"Good. I'll see you in a week; we'll give those scars one last look and then that probably will be your last visit here. Let's hope we don't get to see you again in really long time."
"Thanks." Kurt smiled at the older man and Finn nodded this thanks.
"Finish dressing up and go sign the forms at front desk," Even though Kurt knew all of this Dr. Morales had tendency to remind his patients of procedures. "See you in a week."
"Will do," Kurt gave a little wave when Morales left the room and after finishing buttoning up his shirt he jumped down from his spot on the examination table.
"You ready to go?" Finn stretched after getting up from his seat, making himself seem even taller then it was humanly possible.
"Sure, let me just sign the papers and-"
- there was blood on his hands, rich and dark. He could smell its coppery odor, could almost feel its taste settling on his tongue. His hands clenched around the scalpel, thick blood slick on his fingers. The ceiling light was flickering off and on, reacting to his presence. He looked at his victim still writhing on the ground, unable to scream in terror as his vocal cords were slashed and the precious red spilled on the floor. He tilted his head, as if looking at something particularly interesting. He could see the man's lips moving in silent scream, blood gurgling in his throat and leaking through his fingers as they closed around the cut.
"Hush now," He whispered, his grip on the scalpel tightening. He bent down, steadying the older man with one hand, a steel grip on his jaw and struck again, and again, and -
Kurt's legs gave out for a second and he would have slumped onto the hospital floor if it wasn't for Finn's fast reflexes.
"Dude, you okay?"
"Don't call me dude," Kurt answered on autopilot, shaking his head and reaching out to steady himself on the examination bed. "Just a weird dizzy spell. I'm ok now."
Finn didn't look convinced, but Kurt just smiled gently hoping it would calm the taller boy down.
"Sure, if you say so," Finn shrugged but he still looked wary. He stuck his hands into his pocket while he waited for Kurt to finish signing his papers.
"By the way," he finally spoke up again as they left the hospital and climbed into Kurt's car. "Do you think Burt would be okay with me learning some things?"
"Things? Kurt frowned, pulling out from the parking lot and back into the main street. "What kind of things?"
"Well," Finn fidgeted slightly. "Since me and mom are kinda on demons hit list now – and I don't know how could she just get over that fact so easily – I thought it might be good if I learned something from you guys. Like, hunter things?"
While they waited for the red light to change Kurt looked at the other boy and the calculating stare was almost enough for Finn to wish he hadn't asked.
"You can't just take a two-week crash course and become a hunter. You can't learn just some of the exciting 'hunter stuff' that you want – like hand-to-hand combat and exorcisms - and pass the boring or just plain nasty parts. Either you're committed, or you're not a hunter, just a guy with bag full of tricks."
"You're actually a hunter, aren't you?"
Kurt could almost hear the 'if you can do it, why can't I?' whine in that question.
"A hunter in training, Finn. Both me and Noah. It makes a whole world of difference," Kurt's voice raised a little. "We didn't actually choose it, you know. Our families were doomed by default. I don't think it would be something I would consider doing if things were different."
Finn actually had the tendency to blush as the he turned to look out the window. The mood in the car was so tense that the silence between them felt more then uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," Finn sagged in his seat.
"I know," Kurt shrugged. "I'm sure dad won't say anything if I teach you just some basics. Most common types of hunts, signs of a haunting and malovent spirits, where to look when you want to research something more thoroughly... Those kinds of things."
"Some of that hand-to-hand combat?"
Kurt glanced at the other boy, ready to scold him again but the grin Finn had plastered on was enough to get him to smile as well.
"You would have to ask Noah for that. He's better at physical combat. Have you ever seen him loose a fight? I don't think so."
"Me? What about me?" Kurt pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine.
"What's your specialty?" Finn actually looked interested and Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"Knife throwing. It requires patience, aim, balance, and perfect control of your body. Something that I excel at, I might add."
Finn laughed, but it wasn't a mean laughter, just a good-natured one.
"Plus it's convenient when you don't want to get your clothes dirty. Getting blood stains out is a bitch."
Kurt sipped at his tea and grimaced at its chemical taste. Getting a drink from hospital cafeteria was a bad idea, but he was craving for a tea for some time now. He glanced at Puck, who was sitting on the hospital chair next to him. He wrapped his arms around his knees as he folded himself into the uncomfortable seat. Kurt didn't think that Puck was limber enough to make himself look so small, but the jock surprised him once again.
"You have to tell her," The soprano rested his hand lightly on Puck's slumped shoulder, trying to offer some support. "The longer you wait the worse it will get. For both of you."
"I know," came a muffled reply, as Puck had rested his forehead on his knees and the view of his face was obscured. "Fuck. I hate hospitals."
It was an intense heart-wrenching day; the exhaustion from getting ready for regionals, Quinn going into labor, and the utter defeat by Vocal Adrenaline. Kurt didn't want to think about what was going to happen when they returned to school on Monday.
"It's going to be alright," Kurt touched the back of Puck's neck lightly, not sure how the other boy would react as he was so tense already.
But Puck only raised his head slightly, enough for his eyes to peer over the barrier of his arms and looked at him.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I'm not," Kurt smiled gently. "But it's your life. Only you can make decisions that shape your life. I know you're going to do the best you can. I know you will."
After a moment of hesitation one of Puck's hands reached out to his and squeezed lightly. Then, without a word, he raised himself from his seat and entered the room opposite of their current seating.
Quinn looked pale and tired, but Puck wasn't surprised by it. Hell, if he had to go through what she had just done, he would probably sleep for the next week. But she wasn't sleeping, just talking quietly with her mother. The older woman turned around to look at the intruder and raised her eyebrows in surprise. After few more exchanged words, she quietly got up and left the room. Puck was grateful. He wasn't sure he was up to having this conversation with Quinn's mom present.
"I'm keeping her," He blurted out immediately, before Quinn could even open her mouth.
"I'm keeping Beth," Puck fidgeted with the golden tie now hanging very loosely around his neck.
"You've got to be kidding me! We talked about this, Puck!"
"No," he shook his head. "You talked about this. I just never said anything, because I figured this was your right to decide."
Puck avoided her angry gaze and focused on the peeling of the slightly cracked paint of the hospital bed.
"But I could hold her today. I could see her staring at me and grabbing my fingers. I could count all of her little fingers and toes and she's just perfect. She's a part of me. I couldn't stand not knowing what was happening to her, not to know if she was happy. I'm pretty sure you feel the same."
Quinn squeezed her eyes and her lower lip trembled. It all happened for a second, and then her steel resolve was up again.
"How are you going to care for her? Provide for her? We're both in high school and your mom is taking two shifts at times. I seriously doubt your pool cleaning will get you enough money, even if you actually did clean pools."
"I thought I could. But then I realized it wouldn't work."
"Huh?" Quinn was a little lost in that conversation. So he wanted to keep the baby, knowing he wouldn't be able to be there for her?
"I'm not giving her up to strangers. If you decide to give up your parental rights I already have someone waiting for her."
"So you are giving her up," Quinn frowned. "I don't know if it's the meds they gave me, but you're not making any sense. Even less than usual."
Puck sighed and took a seat that Quinn's mother had vacated just moments before.
"My aunt had a baby about six months ago. My mom and she are really close, at least as close as you can get living in different cities," Puck leaned in his seat slightly, reaching for the wallet he had in his back pocket. He took out a picture he had put there some time ago, when he first decided to confront Quinn about their daughter. "Recently she learned she can't have any more kids, because of complications with her labor. They would really like for Lisa to have a sibling, but now it's impossible."
A light just went on in Quinn's head.
"That's just an open adoption. You will have to give up your rights to her anyways."
"I know," Puck looked out of the window, staring in the darkness outside. "But that way I... we won't be cut off from her. They live in Columbus and its less than two hours away. I know they won't turn their backs on me and even if by some weird twist of fate they did, then at least I will know she'll be happy. Plus, they know about hunting," He turned back to look at Quinn. "Do you realize that Berith knows you were pregnant with my kid? That if he somehow tracks Beth down, whoever would adopt her would be in danger. Unless they would know how to defend themselves."
She looked surprised for a second, and then she looked away ashamed.
"I haven't thought of that."
"During the time he was possessing Kurt, he had access to his memories. He knows everything. I don't want Beth to be his target."
The room was filled with a moment of tense silence.
"We would be able to see her anytime we want," Puck shifted closer and gently took her hand in his. "My aunt promised they would tell her about us, so she will know the truth. We won't be just strangers to her. And maybe, just maybe, when she will be older, she will actually want to get to know us better."
"I'm not sure I can," Quinn's eyes dropped to their joined hands and she frowned, as if trying hard to figure something out. "I don't know if I can see her and not want her back with me."
"You'll do whatever you have to do," Puck looked at her, trying hard to support her whatever she might do. "I can't make that decision for you."
Quinn looked at the picture he had laid on her comforter and ran a finger over the glossy surface. It showed a couple in their thirties holding up an infant. The woman had short black hair, framing her slightly oval face. The man standing next to her was build somewhat like a professional wrestler, but he had kind eyes and a happy smile as he beamed at the camera, clearly proud of his daughter, who was gleefully blowing spit bubbles.
"They look happy," Quinn said quietly, almost to herself, as she tried to imagine little Beth on the picture with them, surprised that she did not find that task too hard.
"They are great. I've known them my whole life and Lisa couldn't have better parents," Puck smiled at some fond memory of his own childhood. "They will love Beth as if she was their own. They are not hunters themselves, but they know how to protect their house, how to read signs of danger. She will be safer with them then with anyone else, including us."
"I don't want her to be hurt," Quinn shook her head lightly. "You know, our lives were so much simpler before any of this demon creepiness. I never thought that 'must know how to create salt circles' would be a requirement for future adoptive parents."
"All part of the package," Puck smiled, squeezing her hand gently and she squeezed back.
"What about Kurt?"
"What about him?"
"Is he ok with all of this? I mean, I got the feeling there's actually something between you two and is he okay with the fact you actually want to keep in touch with Beth?" She frowned, trying to find word to express herself better. "That you want us to do that?"
Puck got really silent for a moment but didn't let go of her. Looking at their joined hands he nodded to himself.
"We got some things cleared between us and he knows how I feel about everything. You will always be the mother of my child, Quinn, and I will always love you. But I am not in love with you, not anymore," he scowled. "Does that even make any sense?"
She blinked in surprise and just gaped at him for a moment, but eventually a careful smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"I think it does. It's kind of complicated, I guess."
"No shit," He let out a short laugh.
"You better find my mother before she drinks another gallon of coffee. She insisted on anonymous adoption before and now I think both of us have some explaining to do."
"The coffee in this place sucks," Puck got up from his seat. "I will be right back."
Puck never thought it would be that easy. When he first decided to confront Quinn about Beth, he figured it would end with shouting, insults, and probably a lot of things thrown at him that would be within her arm's reach. The fact that she seemed to agree with him, even if it took a little convincing, took off a huge weight from his chest. He breathed in deeply, feeling a little light-headed with happiness. It wasn't perfect - it would never be, not when they had to give Beth up - but it was as close as it would ever get.
Kurt was hunched back in the same seat where Puck had left him, absentmindedly turning the empty Styrofoam cup in his hands. He seemed troubled; more than a little tired and despite the dark rings under his eyes he still looked pretty damn sexy. The golden tie was sitting on the chair next to him and he had undone a couple of top buttons of his black shirt. A bit of pale skin showed, along with a fragment of the black leather strap resting against his collarbone. During Regional's, the boys had worn their pendants on their necks, hidden by collars and ties, while the girls had them incorporated in the dress belts. None of the Gleeks felt very comfortable taking the symbols off even for such important event, not so shortly after Berith's attack. There was still some bruising visible on Kurt's shoulder and neck, spreading down to his chest, but it was mostly faded by now.
Kurt finally noticed him, shaking off his thoughts. Puck guessed that by the lack of shouting coming from the room the soprano probably knew that everything went well, but the other boy's eyes still looked at him with questioning gaze. Puck gave him a shy smile and reached out towards the smaller teen. Kurt didn't hesitate to fall into his arms with a little sigh of content.
When Burt got home in the evening he wasn't surprised to find Carole in the kitchen, sitting by the table and sipping her tea. It was something of a daily ritual, the warm drink, a book, and the warm yellow kitchen light made her look like something out of a beautiful painting. Burt was the first man to admit he was sometimes clueless about those 'mushy feelings' like any other guy, but he knew love, he knew it very well.
"Hi honey," Carole noticed him finally, her hand automatically slipping between the open pages of the book to mark the place where she stopped reading. She noticed his small smile and raised one eyebrow in query. "You're in a good mood."
"I had pretty good day," Indeed he had. It was Friday evening, the shop had plenty of customers, which meant extra income and bonuses for his employees and he had booked a table for the next day in the little restaurant Carole liked so much. Burt leaned in to give her a kiss. "Where are our boys?"
"Finn's downstairs, I think he's on computer chat with Rachel. Kurt and Noah were watching some movie in the living room. I didn't want to bother them."
"Puckerman is here?"
"Kurt invited him for over and he'll be staying for the night. And before you ask, yes, he called Lilah and told her," She frowned and then gave a little startled gasp. "Speaking of dinner, did you eat? I didn't have time to make anything, but I can warm up some of yesterday's chicken if you want."
"Nah, I'm good. I had a sandwich not so long ago. I think I might go liberate our TV. Leno's going to start soon."
Burt made his way across the short hall towards the living room, barely hearing the TV, the sound obviously turned down. Lights were off and the room was illuminated only by flickering images in the TV. Burt stopped just short of entrance to living room, clearing his throat loudly, hoping that the short time would be enough for the boys to get themselves back in order. God knew that he didn't want to walk onto them again.
Burt wasn't stupid. No matter how much he wanted to think of Kurt as his little boy, who went through his mother's closet like a tornado in hope of finding a perfect pair of shoes, he knew better. It took him a little while to get used to the concept and one heated argument with his son when he first admitted to dating Puckerman certainly helped. When he finally cooled down enough to stop threatening the little punk with a shotgun he could actually see how much his actions bothered Kurt. He refused to be perceived as a delicate wilting flower or a shy virgin that needed someone to protect his virtue. Burt, eventually, had to agree. He didn't exactly get the whole gay thing, but he did understand being sixteen and so horny that even a sight of linoleum could make you want to have sex. Burt had his share of experiences by the time he was sixteen and in all honesty, he wouldn't give a second thought to the whole situation if Kurt was dating a girl - a hypocritical fact that Kurt had pointed out to him. Loudly.
The TV showed some old musical flick, the black and white kind that Kurt loved. Noah was sprawled on his back on the couch and his son was cuddled half next to him and half on him, nestled into warm groove between jock's body and back of the couch. One of Noah's arms was curled around Kurt's waits, the other resting at the arm of the sofa, the remote still clasped loosely in his hand. They must have fallen asleep while watching TV, since both of their heads were turned towards the screen.
Burt stood still for a minute, watching them. Someone had thrown a worn afghan over them, making sure they didn't get too chilly. Burt suspected it was Finn, since Carole hadn't checked on them for a while. Kurt still looked permanently tired, but he was slowly getting better and his sleep was undisturbed if the other teen was there. Burt had gotten over the fact that they usually slept in one bed, as long as they were not doing anything while he was in the house. Noah held Kurt like he was something precious, something worth protecting and caring for. Burt added a mental point in Puckerman's favor and nodded to himself before he left the room.
"How about we skip Leno," Burt leaned in the kitchen doorway and watched as Carole got ready for the night, turning off the lights. "I feel kind of tired and maybe a hot shower and early night would be better."
"Maybe you're right," Carole gave him a little smile as she put away her book neatly on the dining table. "You need your rest. You're not as young as you would like to think."
Burt looked at her for few seconds as if she had offended him in worst way possible, and then moved quickly across the kitchen to grab her. She dodged, giving out a giggle and then a squeal as he caught her and she struggled to free herself out of his hold.
She didn't try very hard.
The eyes stared at him accusingly. He had been staring back for a while, watching with mild interest as life escaped from the body, leaving only empty husk behind. The concept of eternal death was still abstractive to him, even after thousands of years.
The boy was trying to fight him, screaming inside his own mind in horror, as he used his body. There were threats, fury, begging and bargaining pleas. When he twisted the scalpel in the unmoving flesh of the guard for the last time, the voice in his head finally went silent, the boy retreating to deeper levels of consciousness, where he could hide and safely become numb. Where he wouldn't have to watch anymore.
Berith wouldn't have any of it.
"If you hadn't been so weak," he taunted, feeling the boy's mind twitching in nervous response. "This never would have happened. I wouldn't be able to get a hold of you. But it was so effortless and your body welcomed me so eagerly, like a well-trained whore that welcomes his master. It was almost as if you had spread your legs and begged me to take you."
"They will never let you go," The boy responded sluggishly, trying to burrow himself deeper into layers of his mind. "You will never win."
"But I already have. I will get your friends and then I will watch with pleasure as a family drama unfolds. Either you will kill your father, or he will kill you."
There was no response this time. Berith decided to let it got for the moment. He stood up from his spot on the floor, wiping his bloodied hands on his own shirt and quickly deciding that a change of clothes would be good. It was fortunate that the boy kept extra clothes in his locker, in case the bullying got messy.
"Clean that up," Berith barked towards another teenager who was standing next to him. They boy's consciousness didn't supply him with a name for the meat suit his mercenary was using, not that it mattered. Berith could see his real face, his real image hidden behind teen's blackened eyes – the demonic features twisted and contorted, fire burning behind his eyes. "I have Glee club to attend."
Kurt woke up with a scream, the panicked sound turning into startled gasp when he felt a pair of strong arms circling him from behind. The confusion cleared after a moment and he could hear Puck saying something to him. He couldn't make out the words, as if his ears were blocking the sound and the only thing that his hearing could pick was a slow, raspy whisper.
- "If only you hadn't been so weak..." -
With the corner of his eye he could see Burt barreling down the stairs to his room and Finn sitting on the floor next to his bed with a startled look on his face. He could feel Noah's hand resting between his shoulder blades in silent support. Someone was whimpering, a small, pathetic sound that sounded too much like a hurt animal. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that it was coming from him.
"Son?" Burt's hands clasped heavily on his shoulders, shaking him lightly as if to wake him from a bad dream. "Kurt, are you alright?"
"I killed him," He gasped out, shaking his head like he was trying to deny his own words. "Dad, I killed him."
A surprise flashed over the mechanic's face and then settling into a look of confusion.
"Kurt, calm down. I don't understand what you're saying."
"The school guard," Kurt looked down at his hands he had folded in his lap. He was shaking violently, as if he was freezing. "I- I slashed him up with a scalpel before I went after others in Glee. That's wh- why no one came into the auditorium, why there was no one patrolling school, why no one was there to stop me," He was talking faster with every second, hoping to spill it all out as quickly as possible. "I could feel him fighting me, but I slashed his throat and carved him up and here was someone else there, helping me, disposing the body and-"
Kurt stopped in the middle of the sentence, blanched and then lurched out of bed towards his small bathroom. The door banged close behind him, but the sound of retching was impossible to mute. Burt slowly approached the bathroom opening the door gently with a look of worry on his face.
"It's okay, son," He knelt slowly next to miserable figure hunched over the toilet seat, putting a tentative hand on his son's back.
"It's not!" Kurt protested between gasping breaths that sounded too much like a concealed sobs to Burt. "I killed someone! Watched an innocent man as he bled to death! How is that okay?"
A glass filled with water appeared in corner of Burt's vision and he turned his head towards it. Carole stood by him in the slightly ajar door, holding out the glass towards him. He nodded to her in thanks and watched as she retreated. Kurt was done with dry heaves, wiping his mouth with wads of toilet paper, apparently unable to move and reach towards his own bath towel, or just not giving a fuck. Burt handed him the glass, watching in silence as he washed his mouth and spit the water out.
"You're right, it would never be okay, but son, you didn't kill him. Berith had complete control over your body and it was his fault," Burt paused as the teen gave a pitiful hiccup and wiped his eyes, looking ready to go into full-blown hysterics. "Come on Kurt, you know this as well as I do, possessed people cannot be hold accountable for their actions, they are not themselves. It was the first thing I taught you."
"I know," Kurt's legs curled to his body and he rested his forehead against his bony knees. "But that doesn't make it alright. It doesn't change the fact I remember killing him and-"
Burt moved the short space between them sitting next to his son on the tiled, cold floor. Kurt was shaking, so he didn't hesitate to put an arm around his son's shoulders, holding him close. He said nothing until the sobs grew quiet, until the hitching breaths slowed down and the shaking was gone.
"You said that he had, had help. I'm assuming it would be one of his soldiers, doing his dirty work."
"Probably," Kurt's voice was slightly muted, since he still kept his face hidden. "He was possessing some guy from school. I don't know his name and I don't think I have seen him in school since I came back."
There was a hesitant knock on the door and they both looked up from their spot on the floor. Puck was standing in the doorway, leaning lightly against the frame.
"I think you both better come out before Finn completely freaks out. He looks like he's ready to call an exorcist, or something."
Kurt gave a short bark of laughter, wiping at his reddened eyes.
"We wouldn't want that, would we?"
"Nah," Puck gave the other teen a hand while Burt gathered himself up from the floor. 'We're more then capable of doing the work ourselves."
Kurt was feeling somewhat giddy – Mr. Schuester had just dropped a bomb on them telling the Gleeks that they had another year to try going for Nationals and every single one of them was grinning like a fool. They were happy, carefree – at least for the moment – as they listened to the song Mr. Schue was singing with Puck. Kurt locked his hands with Mercedes and Quinn and looked upon his fellow club members, taking it all in. Rachel had laid her head on Finn's shoulder and she looked peaceful, hopefully putting the whole Vocal Adrenaline incident behind her. The soprano knew that Jesse's betrayal hurt their diva more then she let them know. Tina was holding Artie's hand and Santana and Brittany were cuddled together. All seemed right in the world.
Summer was almost there and everything seemed perfect. Sun was up in the sky, heating the air to the point of being uncomfortable, birds were singing and flowers were in full bloom. Even their classes became somewhat more casual, teachers cutting them some slack in the final days, with the exception of Sue Sylvester, who gave Kurt three months to get back in shape so he could lead Cheerios to another victory. But that was pretty much normal.
There was no sign of apparently impending Apocalypse.
"So," Mike plopped down the chair next to them in the cafeteria, screwing his face up at the sight of the salad Kurt was nibbling on and stealing one of Finn's fries. The taller boy swatted at him, but the dancer had better reflexes and ducked easily. "What are your plans for the summer?"
"I'm going to use this time to get back in touch with my mom," Quinn said absent-mindedly while she was texting someone, her fingers flying over the tiny keyboard.
"My parents and I are going to Italy. I've been waiting for this trip for months," Artie bit into the chocolate muffin with a gusto.
"Asian arts camp for kids," Tina shrugged. "But then again, you know, since we're in this together."
"Gonna spend some time with my brother, since he's on a summer break," Mercedes said between bites of her sandwich.
"Well," Rachel straightened her back, puffing up a little. "My dads got me this really amazing trip to New York. I fully plan on taking the opportunity to scout out Broadway for more musical numbers for Glee club, as well as improving my already flawless voice," Seeing the raised eyebrows and pitiful looks from other Gleeks she frowned in confuse. "What? Self improvement is always good, right?"
"Huh," Mike blinked owlishly a couple of times and then turned towards others, deciding that over-analyzing Rachel Berry is never a good thing. "What about you guys?"
"No plans set in stone, I'm afraid," Kurt took a bit of his salad and munched on it without any real enthusiasm. "Finish healing, get back in shape, and teach Finn how to hunt."
There was a moment of stunned silence when all Gleeks just looked at him. Even Quinn looked up from her text. Artie choked on a piece of muffin, yelping when Mercedes thumped him on his back.
"Hey! No hitting the cripple!"
Finn just grinned.
"Seriously?" Artie gasped out when he regained him composure. "You're going to teach him how to hunt? Finn? The same guy who last week put his shirt on backwards and didn't notice until we pointed it out? THAT Finn?"
"Hey!" Hudson protested while the entire table burst into laughter.
"No, really, "Puck finished his own fries, flicking the empty paper plate at Mike. "With everything that's been going on it's not that bad idea, not since Mrs. H was involved in our personal mess."
"Besides," Kurt frowned at Puck's behavior but said nothing about it. "It's not like we're going off to hunt demons. Just some basic stuff, maybe occasional haunting in the area, if it's close and safe enough."
"I don't think you realize how weird that sounded just now." Rachel shook her head.
"Oh, I do. I really do."
There was a moment of silence.
"Hey, I know!" Matt perked up as an idea came to him. "We need a name! Something cool that will show our united front against the evil stuff."
"I swear," Kurt gave him a stink eye. "If you start calling us 'Scoobies' I will cut you."
"Don't worry, Princess," Puck grinned like a loon. "We all know that fighting off vampires in high heels and miniskirt isn't really your style."
Kurt grabbed a fistful of his salad and tossed it in Puck's face.
Then someone in the background yelled.
Even Apocalypse couldn't compare to hell that Kurt would raise later once he got ketchup on his brand new white jeans.