AN: *peeks around the corner* *throws chapter online* *runs for her life*


*turns off caps lock*

So anyhoo, I'd like to thank my sweethearts Jessica and Christine for giving this chapter the necessary beta business.

To you my dear readers, each and every one of you, I need to say thank you. Thank you for being so sweet and supportive when I had nothing to offer you but excuses and a horrible case of writer's block. Rest assured that you're the reason this fic will have the label "complete" in the hopefully not so distant future.

Enjoy this much awaited chapter, but be aware of the following warnings: harsh language, violence, blood, character death (not of the Klaine kind!).

I love you all so much. Every single one of you.


So when will this end it goes on and on
Over and over and over again
Keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
Till I step down from this for good

The next morning, Kurt was roused from his sleep by the most heavenly scent.


"Mmmmm…" He mumbled into his pillow, eyes still closed. "That for me?" The mattress dipped as Blaine crawled back under the duvet, settling behind Kurt, who immediately reacted by snuggling back against Blaine, wrapping their naked bodies together.

"Everything's for you, my sweet." Blaine purred into Kurt's ear. "My heart, my soul, my body, oh and last but not least... the coffee."

"So tempting." Kurt chuckled throatily. "But you know... I think I'll save the coffee for later and maybe have your body first."

Blaine hummed in pleasant surprise. "Again? Such an insatiable sex junkie!" He teased.

"Hey!" Kurt shouted, twisting free from Blaine's embrace and attacking him with his pillow. "I wasn't the one who began the third round last night!"

"Yeah, well it's your fault that I can't get enough of you!" Blaine wiggled his eyebrows, punctuating his words with a slap of his own pillow against Kurt's temple.

Kurt shrieked and jumped up onto his knees, with his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed in mock anger. "Are you telling me that I don't satisfy your needs, Anderson?"

Biting his lip to hold back his laughter, Blaine answered with a faint shrug. "Well… I'm not sure. I might need a few more test drives before I can answer that question for sure."

"Oh okay, that's it. You're begging for it." Kurt huffed, as he charged forward.

"SHIT!" Blaine yelped, realizing his fiancé's intent. "NOOOOO! KURT!"

The next couple of minutes, both of them alternated between crying with laughter and begging for mercy, lost in a fierce tickle fight. The battle ultimately ended with Kurt straddling Blaine and pinning his hands over his head.

"Got you!" Kurt panted cheerfully.

Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but then decided against it. Instead, he settled for gazing at his lover with a contented smile and a look of serenity in his eyes; both of which caused Kurt's heart to skip a beat.

Kurt lowered himself onto his elbows, ignoring the jolt of arousal that coursed through his body as their hips slotted together perfectly. "I'm so in love with you… you take my breath away. Yesterday, when I thought I had lost you… it felt like I was dying and I…", he inhaled sharply, "I never… ever want to feel like that again…" He whispered against Blaine's lips, before meeting them in a sensual, slow kiss.

Blaine brought his hand up against Kurt's neck and guided him to lie on top of him, while their mouths kept moving against each other, over and over again, until they both had to come up for air.

"Fuck, Kurt." Blaine groaned, as he ran his hands down Kurt's spine, fanning them out just above the swell of his ass. "I want to marry you."

"I thought we were getting married?" Kurt chuckled, waggling his fingers in front of his fiancé's eyes. "Isn't that the point of these engagement rings?"

"No- I mean yes, I know, but… I was thinking that after the holidays, we could maybe think about setting a date?" Blaine shrugged, with an unsure smile. "I know we weren't going to rush it, but after yesterday…", he shook his head, "I'm so fucking tired of people making you feel like you're anything less than the love of my life; as if you're some kind of nuisance or a threat to my and Lily's happiness. I want you to be my husband, and I want everybody to know that you're my man. But most of all I want them all to know that I am yours… I, Blaine Anderson, belong to Kurt Hummel, and if people don't like that, they can just go screw themselves."

"Wow…" Kurt grinned. "That's quite a speech. How can I say no to that?"

Blaine leaned in and softly kissed Kurt's cheek. "You don't think I'm being silly?"

"No, It's not silly. It's sweet." Kurt hummed into Blaine's ear. "And it's actually a much nobler proposal than the one I have for you right now."

"Which is?"

Wasting no time, Kurt moved down Blaine's body, while marking his trail with the tip of his tongue. As he passed Blaine's bellybutton, Kurt lifted his head and leered at his fiancé. "Blaine Anderson, would you please do me the honor of allowing me to suck your dick?" He asked with mock reverence, followed by a naughty wink. He chuckled when Blaine burst out into laughter.

"Well… how do you expect me to refuse an offer like that?" Blaine replied breathlessly, before throwing his head back with a loud moan as Kurt eagerly took him into his mouth. "You know, your coffee is going to get cold… holy FUCK" He gasped as Kurt let go with an extra hard suck.

"I don't really care about coffee right now." Kurt smirked. "I already have something else in my mouth that's piping hot."

About an hour later, they were sitting around the kitchen table, entirely sated, well showered, and dressed to face what would no doubt be a trying day for both of them.

Kurt had whipped up a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and a new batch of strong, black coffee.

"I called Dave while you were in the shower." Kurt said, in between two bites of his sunny side up. "I told him about our situation."

"And?" Blaine questioned, crumbs falling from his mouth.

"He's coming over around noon, while he's on his lunch break, to explain our options. He told me we shouldn't have too much trouble getting a restraining order against your father. We can even sue him, apparently, but he'll tell me more about that when he's here."

"Great." Blaine nodded. "I'll try my best to be back on time."

Kurt swallowed down his food and looked at his fiancé with sad eyes. "I wish I could come with you. I don't know…. I have a terrible feeling about this."

Sighing deeply, Blaine reached out and patted Kurt's hand. "I know, but it's a bad idea, honey; especially if we want to get a restraining order. Besides, I don't want any more confrontations between you and him, period."

Kurt agreed with a reluctant nod, while clutching Blaine's hand in return. "Just be careful. I love you."

The drive over to his parents' house allowed Blaine some much needed time to calm down. So far, he'd done his best to hide the anger and trepidation that threatened to consume him, as Kurt had been pushed to limits enough already.

He'd seen the exhaustion in his fiancé's eyes last night. He'd noticed the added sharpness of his cheekbones. And even though their lovemaking had been sweet and passionate, he had definitely felt Kurt's lack of physical strength. But what had shocked him the most, as he had kissed his way down Kurt's body, was the way his soft, adorable, slightly rounded belly had disappeared; leaving him with a too flat, almost concave stomach.

As mad as Blaine had been at himself for not picking up on the signs sooner, he'd managed to swallow back a curse; and he had continued to worship his lover's body, which was still as gorgeous and striking as ever, no matter what.

It was all too clear that the stress of the past months had taken a toll on Kurt. Even his light heartedness earlier that morning had been laced with an underlying heaviness.

His beautiful, kind-hearted Kurt. His sweet, lovely boy, who had done absolutely nothing wrong... nothing to deserve this crap.

With an angry huff, Blaine slammed on his brakes, making a sudden stop in front of a red light.

His father was going to pay for this. He was going to pay for everything; the slurs he'd thrown at them; the constant harassment; the bruises on Kurt's body… the attempts to destroy his family.

Suddenly Blaine couldn't wait to face him. But then again; as confident as he'd been when he was with Kurt; he still had no clue how to stop his father from carrying out his threats; or at least not in a way that wouldn't put him into jail for the crime of patricide.

As soon as the light turned to green, Blaine hit the gas and took off again.

Even though she couldn't hear him, he sent a prayer out to his mom, begging her under his breath to not let him down; pleading for help, for support… anything.

As he waited for the door to be answered, Blaine was torn between relief and disappointment when he spotted only his mom's car parked in the driveway. His father obviously couldn't be bothered to stay around the house during the holidays.

"Blaine!" His mom's voice rang out in surprise. "I didn't expect… I didn't think you'd come."

Blaine did a double take. He was used to seeing his mother dressed in fine, expensive outfits and high heels, with meticulously styled hair and flawless makeup. Rebecca Anderson was never anything short of a walking style icon.

Except for now.

She was wearing a sweater dress, black leggings and flats. There was no trace of makeup on her face, which was wildly framed by her long, dark curls.

In Blaine's eyes, she had never looked more beautiful.

"Honey? Won't you come in?" His mom asked. "He's not home right now…" She pointed out needlessly.

"Yeah, I saw." Blaine replied as he stepped inside and followed his mother into the large living room. Frowning at the minimal Christmas decoration, he sat down on the big white design sofa.

"No tree this year?"

His mom simply shrugged and shook her head. "I just wasn't in the mood for one."

Blaine nodded in understanding.

"Why are you here, sweetie?" Rebecca took a seat next to him and reached out to tuck a curl behind his ear. It was a simple gesture that meant more to Blaine than he could rationally explain. His heart flooded with warmth and he couldn't suppress a smile.

"Mom... Kurt and I are getting married. He proposed to me on Christmas Eve." Blaine blurted out giddily, before getting the wind knocked out his lungs by a crushing hug.

"That's wonderful!" His mother pulled him even tighter into her embrace and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'm so happy for both of you! And for Lily! Oh my!"

"Thanks, mom." Blaine chuckled breathlessly, pulling himself free from her death grip.

"I bet Kurt's overexcited to start planning the wedding, isn't he?" Rebecca laughed, as she zoomed in on the shiny engagement ring on her son's finger.

With a slight hesitation, Blaine shook his head. "Well... not really…"

Snapping her eyes up to Blaine's face, his mother looked at him incredulously. "My goodness, why not? Doesn't he like weddings?"

"Yes. Yes, he does. That's not it, mom. It's just… a lot of stuff happened yesterday. Bad things… with dad… and Kurt. I need to talk to you. I really need your help, mom." Blaine's voice cracked as he threw his mother a helpless look.

Rebecca's eyes grew dark and wide, and Blaine could see shock, anger, and finally a solemn determination settle in them.

"Just tell me, honey."

Rebecca's expression didn't change much as Blaine told her everything. Only the tears rolling down her cheeks betrayed her fury and grief.

Blaine had fallen silent, not knowing what else to add. His mom had averted her eyes and seemed miles away in thoughts. A few moments later, she shook her head slowly.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Blaine." She bowed her head in apparent guilt. "I'm sorry I've been such a lousy mother to you. I should have protected you. It's just… I never thought he would-" She pressed her fist against her mouth and choked back a sob.

"God, mom, no." Blaine grabbed her hand and urged her to look at him. "This is not your fault. It's him. He has done this to us, not you." Spotting a box of tissues on the coffee table, he reached out to offer his mother one. "I just need to find a way to stop him from filing for custody." He muttered, as his mother blew her nose loudly.

"No!" Rebecca's voice was hoarse but unwavering. "You don't need to do anything, sweetheart… I'll take care of this." She insisted with a noisy sniff, nodding to herself.

Blaine frowned. "But how?"

"By doing something I probably should've done a long time ago." His mom answered dejectedly. "It's time to turn his own tricks against him."

Before Blaine could push for more details, the sound of the front door falling shut caused them both to jump in their seats.

"Speak of the devil." He hissed under his breath.

Rebecca dried the rest of her tears with a few quick swipes. "Whatever happens, Blaine, just stay calm, okay? Don't let him provoke you, no matter how ugly it gets." She glanced at him nervously.

Meanwhile Bruce Anderson strode into room, whistling cheerfully. Freezing in his steps, he fell silent as he noticed Blaine.

"Well, well, well... what have we here? Has our not-so-long-lost son returned home?" He grinned gleefully. "So nice to see you, Blaine. Tell me, have you finally come to your senses and thrown that little skank out?"

"Shut your mouth about Kurt, you fucking asshole!" Blaine spat.

Rebecca sighed and dropped her head in her hands. So much for staying calm then.

"Well, at least you knew I was talking about him." Bruce shrugged in mock innocence, and walked towards the liquor cabinet, where he poured himself a generous glass of whisky.

Blaine scoffed inwardly. It wasn't even noon yet.

"Want one?" Bruce raised his glass, gazing pointedly at his son. "You look like you could use a drink. What's wrong? Trouble in paradise?"

"Yeah, right, wouldn't you want to know?" Blaine snapped sarcastically. "Stop playing dumb, you bastard, I know what you did to Kurt! I know how you tried to blackmail him!"

Whether it was the biting taste of the alcohol, or a sudden surge of anger that caused it; Blaine couldn't tell, but his father's face contorted into a frightening scowl.

They continued a silent staring match for a few moments, until Bruce spoke up in a treacherously soft voice. "So the little fag couldn't leave well enough alone and just do as he was told, huh?" He shook his head and tutted. "So selfish and stupid of him…"

"I told you to shut up about Kurt!" Blaine jumped up from the sofa, but was immediately held back by his mom, who locked her fingers around his wrist.

"He is an IDIOT, Blaine!" Bruce yelled. "He could have had everything he wanted, and yet he chose to stay with you and ruin your life? Do you even understand what that means?"

"It means he LOVES me!" Blaine shouted at the top of his lungs. "AND GUESS WHAT, WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!" He trembled with rage as his father burst out in hysterical laughter. His mom's hand tightened around his arm, in a desperate effort to calm him.

Bruce ended his laughing fit with a final snort and a shake of his head. "Married… Don't send me an invitation to the wedding, okay; I'm not a huge fan of freak shows."

"You fucking son of a bitch…" Blaine hissed between his teeth. His blood was boiling. For the first time in his life he felt the urge to actually kill somebody. He only needed one more slight push in the wrong direction…

"I hope the little fucker's worth losing your daughter over." His father sneered. "You'll be hearing from my attorneys soon."

"NO!" Rebecca threw her arms around Blaine as he charged forward, almost toppling both of them over. "Don't Blaine! STOP!" She screamed.

"Why?" Blaine shot back. "Why shouldn't I kick his ass?" He pointed angrily at his father. "He's going to take my child!"

"But he won't!" Rebecca tried to shush Blaine, while still holding him in a near death grip.

"He won't?" Blaine repeated.

"I won't?" Bruce spat. "Oh please! What are you saying, woman?"

Rebecca took a deep, steadying breath and let go of her son. "You won't file for custody of Lily." She replied, as she stepped forward, and glared at her husband. "Here's what you will do, so listen very carefully, okay?"

She counted with her fingers. "One, you are going to leave my son and his family the hell alone, from now on. Two, you'll resign from the board of directors of LCH, immediately. I don't want either Blaine or Kurt to run into you at work anymore. In fact, I don't want them to have to see your despicable face ever again. And three, you're going to go upstairs, pack a bag, and get the hell out of here. And for your information, you'll be hearing from my attorneys soon, because I'm filing for divorce."

Both Blaine and Bruce gasped at that last statement.

Bruce looked as if he'd just been hit in the groin, while Blaine was just gazing at her in wonder. He had never seen her like this. No wait, that wasn't true, there was that time when he'd been four years old and a lanky, pimple faced teenager had pushed him from a swing, just to make his friends laugh. His mom had gone ballistic then. One of his first memories of his childhood had been the kid's trembling knees as his mother had given him a five-minute-long verbal lashing. Afterwards she had taken Blaine to the ice cream salon for a banana split to share.

"You can't just-" Bruce stammered.

"I'm not finished yet!" His wife snapped. "I just want to make sure you understand what's going to happen here." She sneered. "If you don't do exactly as I just told you, you'll regret it. I'll do to you exactly what you threatened to do to Blaine; I'll take away everything that matters to you; the house, the company… or have you forgotten that the majority of Anderson Pharmaceutics belongs to my family?"

"I… Becky, you can't be serious!" Bruce held out his hands and moved towards her.

"Stay away from me!" Rebecca commanded, and Bruce immediately backed down. "I am done with you and your hypocrisy, Bruce!" She shook her head and for the first time since she'd started her rant, a hint of something else than pure anger shone through. "You could've had it all, you know? You had it all… a loving wife, a fantastic son, a sweet granddaughter… You are surrounded with people who've always loved you and done everything to make you proud, and you just had to go and throw all of that away, huh?"

"I did no such thing! It was he who betrayed his family!" Bruce shot back, gesturing at Blaine.

"Don't you dare blame him!" She fumed. "Blaine did nothing wrong! He and Kurt and Lily are perfect together. Don't you DARE give lessons on what it takes to be a family, much less on what it means to be a husband!"

Bruce threw Rebecca an incredulous look. "What?"

Raising one eyebrow in contempt, she administered the final blow. "Do you take me for an idiot, Bruce? Did you really believe I don't know about all of the women you slept with? Or about that kid you fathered all those years ago? What's his name again… Connor? Cooper?"

"Oh my God…" Bruce gulped, as the last remainder of blood drained from his face. Then panic settled in. "Look, Becky, please don't do this, I swear I-"

"I don't want to hear it… Just get out. It's over. I hate you! I've spent so many years trying to keep this family together and it did nothing but make me a bad mother to my son! And it's all YOUR fault!" Rebecca snarled. "Get. Out." She averted her eyes and crossed her arms, indicating the end of their discussion.

For a long, awkward moment, Bruce just stood there, lost and defeated; the epitome of a man whose world had just come crashing down upon him. Then, with a slight nod, he silently made his way out of the living room and upstairs, presumably to pack.

The slight twinge of compassion inside Blaine's heart stood no chance against the bitter knowledge that his father had never showed them any mercy in return. And he still wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for his mother.

"Mom?" Blaine carefully brushed his hand over her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"No…" She breathed, finally allowing her tears to run free. "But I will be… don't worry about me, honey." She smiled weakly, while grabbing his hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

Blaine led her back to the sofa and pulled her down in his embrace, in an attempt to comfort her.

"I should've done this a lot sooner." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry… I don't know why I waited so long. But… you know he wasn't always like this, Blaine. You remember, right? He loved me. He loved you. I just… I'll never understand what happened to the man I married so many years ago. I lost him somewhere along the way, and I don't know when, or how, or why… I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm so sorry I let this happen to us, I'm-"

"Mom…" Blaine interrupted her gently. "Don't be sorry. I get it, okay? I didn't get it before but I get it now. You were never a bad mother, so don't call yourself that. I love you, mom. Thank you… thank you so much for standing up for us."

Rebecca answered with a tiny smile and fierce hug. "I love you too, my little honey bee."

A chuckle rumbled through Blaine's chest. "You haven't called me that since I was seven."

"Only because you forbade me to do so." His mother shrugged.

The sound of movement brought their attention back to the doorway, where Bruce was staring at them as if they were some kind of wild life he'd never seen before.

"What?" Blaine's voice was devoid of emotion.

"I'm… I'm leaving." Bruce lifted the small sports bag he was holding for them to see.

"Good." Blaine replied dismissively.

With a deep sigh, Bruce dropped his shoulders. "Becky… I'm sorry. I won't be bothering you anymore, I promise… I love you. I'll always love you." Blaine felt his mother tense in his arms, but she kept quiet as Bruce addressed his son next. "Blaine… your mother is right. You're not to blame for this mess. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. So… right… I'm leaving." He repeated, nodding to himself. "Goodbye." He breathed, then turned around and left, and only seconds later the slam of the closing front door reverberated through the house.

"Thank God." Rebecca exhaled sharply. "He's gone. It's over."

"Yeah." Blaine muttered under his breath, knowing that he wouldn't be relieved until he was able to hold Kurt in his arms again.

Kurt took a sip from his third cup of coffee, as he walked from the kitchen back to the dinner table. He'd been surfing on his laptop for the past two hours, killing time and trying to keep his nerves in check.

Sinking down on the wooden chair, one leg folded under him, he clicked through the tabs on his screen, switching between numerous sites about men's fashion.

So many beautiful tuxes and suits, and gorgeous shirts and shoes and accessories… They would look so nice on Blaine. But nice wasn't good enough. No; Blaine deserved perfection, especially on their wedding day.

Wait… I could do it myself. I could design our outfits.

Kurt's heart skipped a beat. Could he really? Was he truly ready to go down that road again? The idea of him drawing, designing, making patterns, wrestling with fabrics, having a fit while sewing – which had never been his forte - brought back so many bittersweet memories. Besides that, he was also strangely scared of rediscovering his long lost passion. What if he wouldn't be able to let it go anymore? What if it made him realize that he wanted to pursue it further? What if his heart decided that it wanted so much more from life; more than that which his mind had deemed enough?

So what if that happens, Kurt? Isn't it time to set yourself free? Isn't it worth the risk? Sam always wanted you to do this. Blaine would want you to do this. Everybody will have your back, no matter what.

"I'll do it." Kurt told himself out loud; biting his lip as a nervous chuckle bubbled up his throat.

He was really going to do this. It felt like yet another huge turning point in his life; like another step forward. It also felt extremely right.

The next half hour was spent listing the items he'd need – his material and supplies from before had been thrown away long ago, with the exception of his expensive sewing and serger machines, which were stowed away on his parents' attic, far out of sight.

A few quick Google searches later, Kurt found that most of his trusty online suppliers were still in business, so he happily placed some orders. With every confirmation e-mail that arrived, the excitement grew.

He couldn't wait to tell Blaine.

The doorbell rang, followed by an urgent knock. Kurt rose from his seat and glanced at the wall clock as he passed through the hallway.

Dave was a bit early. Or maybe Blaine had forgotten his house keys again. Thinking nothing more of it, Kurt undid the chain lock and opened the door with a welcoming smile, about to utter an automatic "hi"… but the word died on his lips.

It was neither Dave nor Blaine.

It was him.


While Kurt's brain tried to make sense of things, Bruce Anderson shrugged and broke the silence. "Can I come in? We need to talk… Kurt." His expression was indecipherable, but disturbing enough to stir Kurt into action, and with a sharp "NO!", he threw the door shut, only to have it slam back into his chest as Bruce struggled to force his way in.

"NO!" Kurt repeated as he threw his full body weight forward, trapping Bruce in between the wooden pane and the doorframe. Panic was setting in, but his instincts had taken over, and somehow, on a subconscious level, he already knew he was fighting for his life.

He knew.

He'd always known it would end like this.

But he wouldn't go down without a fight. Not this time.

"Fucking let me in right NOW!" Bruce roared, grappling at Kurt's shoulder.

"Go away!" Kurt screamed. To his utter horror, the other man was gradually inching his way inside. With a last, desperate attempt, Kurt gave another violent push against the door. He immediately realized his mistake when his sock clad feet slipped and his knees hit the hardwood floor. "Fuck…" He cried out in defeat, as Bruce barged in and kicked the door shut behind him.

For a minute, nothing happened. Kurt remained on his knees, eyes on the floor, trying to catch his breath. The panting noise above him told him Blaine's father was doing the same. Without making any sudden movements, Kurt let his eyes travel towards the door, calculating the amount of seconds it would take him to get on his feet, grab the handle and-

"Get up."

After a few seconds of hesitation, Kurt shook his head almost imperceptibly. Then there was a sudden rustle and a pair of hands, grabbing at him, bruising him, till he was finally standing up, slouched with his back against the wall.

"You know, Kurt…" Bruce cupped Kurt's chin and ran his thumb over his cheek. "…the reason we're in this mess is because you just CAN'T do what you are told."

Kurt didn't know what freaked him out the most: the way the other man was caressing his face, or the use of his actual name instead of the usual insults.

"Please, just go… I don't-" Kurt was silenced by a rough finger against his lips.

"Shhhhh. You're done talking, sweetheart." Bruce clarified. "You're just going to listen, okay?" Raising his eyebrows, he waited till Kurt nodded weakly, and continued. "You should have listened to me sooner, pretty boy, that way we could've avoided all of this. Now… we'll both end up losing everything."

A panicked whine escaped Kurt's throat as he felt the pressure of a cool, metal object against his temple.

Without even looking, he knew.

It was a gun.

Bruce chuckled and continued. "Becky told me that it was all my fault… she's right in a way, you know?" He sighed, full of regret. "I gave him the disease; or the faulty genes, whatever you want to call it. I made him this way..." Kurt whimpered as Bruce angrily forced the barrel against his jaw. "But you were the one who took advantage of his weakness, Kurt. You were the one who destroyed him, and still you keep claiming that you love him."

"I do love him." Kurt breathed without hesitation. Not even a gun to his head could make him betray his love for Blaine.

"Shut your DAMN FUCKING MOUTH!" Bruce roared. In a flash, his fist collided with Kurt's jaw.

Blinded by the white hot pain, Kurt swayed on his feet, disoriented but fighting to stay upright. Falling down would mean defeat. The end. Game over. He drew in a ragged breath and clutched his cheek. Every gulp of air reassured him that he was still alive. His heart was still beating. Kurt Hummel still existed, and every passing second was a new opportunity to escape this doomed situation.

Meanwhile, Bruce continued his furious rant. "Did you honestly think that I don't know what it's like? I know how hard it is to fight these... urges... every single day of your life. Having to sleep with women you don't even care for, just to prove to yourself that you're a real man. Do you realize the strength of character it takes? People like you are sent by Satan to tempt us, and of course Blaine finds it impossible to resist you when you're all over him all the time and you keep feeding him these... these... lies about love and you keep brainwashing him, making him believe that this is good and normal, when it's just so fucking wrong!"

Kurt was frozen in shock. Did he just confess to being...? No. It couldn't be.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, Kurt." Bruce murmured. "And God knows I've committed more sins than I could ever atone for. If anyone deserves to go to hell, it's me." He sighed, then shrugged. "But at least I'll be taking you with me." He forced his thigh between Kurt's legs and breathed into his neck. "How about it, precious? You and me, spending eternity together, burning for our sins. Sounds fitting, doesn't it?"

Tears had begun to roll over Kurt's cheeks, as he found himself launched back into his own personal hell; right back into that locker room, many years ago, pinned against a wall, with dirty, hotly whispered threats searing his skin; making him feel so small, so tainted, so helpless... He could even hear Dave's voice calling his name, over and over again. Someone was pounding on the door of the locker room. Sam was going to save him.


He didn't want to die.

Hurry up, Sam.

"Kurt? Are you there?"

Still Dave's voice. How odd. Why is he asking if-

"I am so sorry, Kurt. Sorry for everything I have done to you. I wish I could do something to make this right. I'll do anything to help you out."

With a sharp gasp, Kurt was transported back to the present. He snapped his eyes open and noticed Bruce scowling furiously at the front door.

This was it. He wasn't hallucinating. He needed to act quickly.

This was his only shot.

"DAVID! HELP ME!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, before using every ounce of strength in his body to yank his knee upwards and deliver a vicious kick to Bruce's stomach. While the other man doubled over in pain, Kurt finally managed to struggle free from his grip. It took him less than two seconds to weigh his options and decide that dashing for the front door was too risky, as his attacker was still blocking the way.

Kurt took off into the direction of the living room.

If he could get to the bedroom, he'd be safe. He'd lock the door, open the window, and use the fire escape to get out.

He needed to run as fast as he could. But still feeling extremely light headed from the punch to his face, he barely managed to stumble and sway his way into the living room when suddenly, a burst of fiery pain hit the back of his right thigh and sent him crashing to the floor, face first. With a new wave of desperation, he tried to scramble forward, but found he couldn't move his leg.

Realizing that his last chance at escape had been shattered, Kurt broke down. He dropped his forehead against the floor, and howled in frustration as tears blurred his vision.

Only a few more seconds and he'd be dead.

Only a few moments to silently say goodbye to everything and everyone he loved.


Holding onto love and life till his last breath. That was his solemn choice and decision.

They could take his life, but they couldn't destroy his soul.


A kick in his ribs. Looking right into the barrel of the gun.

More hissed insults that he didn't even hear.

A finger moving towards the trigger.

You can't touch me.

A loud crash and a scream.

More shouting.


Warm blood, splattered on his face.

A heavy body dropping to the ground next to him.

Shadows and movement.

A man kneeling down.

A hand on his cheek.

"Are you alright, Kurt?"

Radio static and hastily spoken three-digit codes.

"Stay calm, Kurt. The ambulance is already on its way. You're gonna be fine."

The same voice.

So soothing.

"It's over, Kurt. You're safe."


Blaine knew something was wrong the minute he parked his car in front of their apartment building.

His dad's car was across the street. And a police car - Dave's, he assumed.

He skipped the slow elevator and sprinted up the flights of stairs. With every step, the pounding in his chest became heavier, and his throat grew tighter.

Please let him be okay. How could I've been so stupid to leave him alone? Please, Kurt, be okay. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

"FUCK!" He cried out. Their front door was hanging off its hinges. He sped inside, completely overcome with panic. "Kurt! KURT! Kurt, where are -""

Blaine choked on his words as he took in the scene in the living room. It almost seemed like a surreal painting. Except paintings didn't come with the hot, metallic stench of blood and gun powder. And no painter would have been able to capture the pure horror of Kurt covered in blood, his pale skin littered with bruises, eyes closed and face contorted in misery; his hands moving restlessly around, as if searching for something to hold onto.

With a strangled gasp, Blaine closed the distance towards his fiancé and dropped to his knees. He grabbed Kurt's hands firmly into his own. "Kurt. Oh God, baby... what happened? What did he do to you?" He muttered softly, as he tried to make eye contact with Kurt.

"Dr. Anderson." Dave acknowledged his presence with a tight nod, fully into police mode, recounting whatever useful information he could offer. "Kurt has a shot wound in the back of his upper thigh. There's a lot of damage as far as I can tell. That gun sure was a nasty caliber. I don't know... I've tried to make a tourniquet but it wasn't easy; the entry wound- it's in a tricky spot. I don't think he's hit a major artery though. I mean, the bleeding seems under control." He shrugged. "The ambulance should be here any minute."

"Okay." Blaine breathed, as he tried to inspect Kurt's wounds. He found Dave's assessment to be pretty accurate, so far. His leg was in bad shape, but it wasn't life threatening. "Dave, please hand me my bag over there?" Blaine pointed at his medical bag next to the dresser.

"Sure." Dave immediately complied.

"Gonna take your pressure now, sweetie." Blaine whispered calmly. He grabbed a pair of scissors from his bag and cut open Kurt's shirtsleeve. He then handed the scissors to Dave. "His jeans have to come off too."

Dave took the cue without hesitation and set to work, cutting through the thick, sturdy fabric in a fast yet careful manner.

Kurt whined loudly and blinked at Blaine, trying to break through the haze of half-consciousness. "Blaine?" His voice was faint, but clear. "Blaine... don't let me go."

"I won't, sweetheart." Blaine soothed him. "It's okay, baby. We're going to take you to the hospital and you're going to be okay. I promise."

Kurt whimpered in response. "It hurts. Hurts so much. I'm tired, Blaine. Don't let me go." He repeated with a small sob.

Blaine's heart shattered even more. "I won't. I won't let you go anywhere, Kurt. Never. You're safe with me, babe. Let's just get you comfortable for now, and then we'll try to make the pain go away, okay honey?"

Dave cleared his throat. "Um... Dr. Anderson?"

"Yeah?" Blaine looked up and followed Dave's gaze toward the other crumpled body on the floor.

The man who was lying there in a pool of blood, struggling to breathe, had been his father once.

Now he was nothing more than the monster who had tried to murder Kurt.

"I shot your father." Dave said bluntly. "I shot him twice in the chest, and once in the neck. I had no other choice."

"I know." Blaine nodded. "You saved Kurt's life. I can't-" He would never be able to thank him enough.

Dave shook his head. "Not now." He gestured once more to Bruce Anderson. "Is he... Is there anything we should do for him?"

As if to plead for his life, Bruce chose that exact moment to turn his face towards Blaine. He moved his lips, but no words came out, only horrible, wet sounds. Blaine knew the man was drowning in his own blood. He stared into the cold, blue eyes of the man that he had loved and adored for such a long time. He searched for memories of that love being reflected in those same eyes.

He found none.

Blaine shook his head slowly. "No. I can't do anything for him anymore. It's too late." The last look they shared told Blaine that his father had understood the true meaning of his words. It was truly over. The fight left his body, and the light vanished from his eyes. One last, almost resigned sigh, and then nothing.

Bruce Anderson was dead. His attempts to hurt and destroy had backfired and caused his downfall.

He had lost.

But as Blaine returned his attention to his badly wounded fiancé, he realized that there were no winners at all; only survivors.

AN: My poor boys. But you know, sometimes, when you are at your lowest point, you are open to the greatest positive change. In the next chapter, we'll have a lot of hospital action. Can you imagine Burt finding out about this? Ouch.