One
The men came after him while he was walking home from work. The magazine was a lot of work and NYADA was even more of a challenge. Kurt Hummel's life was hectic and he felt constantly pressed for time. Getting accepted into the school of his choice was a dream come true, but he had lost Blaine along the way since he'd cheated on him. Rachel had moved out of the apartment and into her own place, having found her own success in a very short amount of time. His friends were scattered across the country, pursuing their own lives and dreams.
His father spent most of his time in Washington D.C. While he had overcome cancer, they did not talk as often as Kurt would like. He felt a little lonely these days as he finished college and planned to take on Broadway. He walked with purpose, determined to hurry home, but the men still came for him. He was not afraid. He'd dealt with bullies his entire life. There were four of them.
"Fag!" One of them chanted angrily.
"Give us your money," Another said, "or we'll bash your head in!"
A third man pulled out a gun. "Have you ever felt a bullet in your spine?"
"Go to hell!" Kurt shouted, refusing to back down. "I'm not afraid of you!"
They closed in on him in an instant. He fought back, but soon was beneath their feet and fists. Pain radiated up his right arm. He knew it was broken. His head exploded with pain and blood. His side ached with strain. They were about to shoot him when someone decided to intervene.
"Hey!" A man shouted from somewhere above Kurt's head, "Leave him alone!"
"Stay out of this, 'less you want a bullet too! He's just a fag!"
"Stay away from him." The stranger demanded.
There was a scuffle and Kurt thought he saw a flash of light, but blood clouded his vision and he could not say for sure exactly what he saw. All he knew is that one instant the men were attacking him, and the next they were laying on the sidewalk, unconscious from some unseen force. His breaths came in short gasps. Everything hurt. He moaned with pain. The stranger approached him.
"I think you need a hospital," he said, "let me help you up."
A sudden warmth filled his body. He let the man assist him without a word. "I'll call an ambulance."
He pulled out a cellphone and called for help, instructing the dispatcher to their location in an extremely calm manner, as if nothing unusual had happened. The stranger was tall. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and sported a long brown coat. Kurt groaned and leaned against him, grateful someone had stepped in for once. Most of the time, he had to deal with his bruises and pain on his own. He often hid such hurts from those around him, refusing to let his bullies win. They called him horrible names and mistreated him. It happened all the time in Lima, Ohio while he was growing up. While New York was a bit accepting of him, he still encountered hateful people, words, or actions while he studied and worked.
His life had not been easy. He'd lost his mother at a young age and her passing left a whole in his life that had never been healed. He faced torment throughout his younger years. If it were not for his music, his father, and friends, these things might have taken him out in his younger years. He learned to be strong. He relied on himself and his intelligence to get him through life, knowing that if he worked hard he could have a great career. He did not believe in God, heaven, angels, or the supernatural. He felt those things could never be proven nor relied on. He believed in humanity and people who did not feel he sinned merely because he liked men over women or dressed a bit differently.
"Thank you," he said through a gritted smile, "I appreciate your help."
"Of course," the man said, "my name is Castiel. I'll go to the hospital with you. Some friends of mine are waiting for me, but they will understand my tardiness."
The thought of dealing with doctors and needles on his own chilled him. He thought it would make him feel even more alone in this world, so he accepted Castiel's offer. He thought it was a long, strange name. He'd never heard that name before.
"Kurt Hummel," he introduced himself, "they really did a number on me."
"You will feel better soon," Castiel reassured him, "the ambulance is on its way. So, Kurt Hummel, what do you do for a living?"
Kurt had the strangest feeling that the man was asking merely for the sake of conversation. He answered anyway.
"I work at a fashion magazine," he replied, "and I'm getting ready to graduate college."
"Here's your ride," Castiel said as sirens wailed and an ambulance pulled alongside the curb, "I'll ride along with you."
The paramedics greeted him warmly, checking him over to see what they could do for him before they placed him on a stretcher. They wrapped a soft bandage around his head and checked his vital signs. Then they had him climb onto a stretcher and lay down. The soft padding instantly relieved some of his discomfort. Castiel followed him into the ambulance. The paramedics scribbled down notes on their metal pads and hooked up to an iv. Medicine flowed through his pain, easing the tension in his body and spirit. Castiel gave him a warm smile.
There was something strange about the man, though Kurt could not say exactly what it was. Maybe it was the calm, unassuming way he spoke or the way he carried himself with ease and grace. Something was different about him. Kurt had the notion that Castiel walked with a purpose in this life, but that seemed ridiculous and unnatural to him. He was probably just trying to be kind to a hurting stranger and was good at comforting others.
Kurt could not shake the feeling of profound grace. It nagged at him despite his doubts. He had only known one person with such grace, and that had been his mother. He wondered about this stranger, where he came from, and what he did for a living.
"What do you do for work?" He asked, a little more relaxed now.
"You could say that I hunt," Castiel replied, "and live a subsistence lifestyle."
"Oh," Kurt answered, "I've never met anyone that did that—-especially not in this city."
"I'm just visiting the city with some friends of mine. Their names are Sam and Dean. We're searching for something important. It may help us hunt in the future."
It seemed like a strange thing to say. He felt curiosity bubbling within him. What kind of hunting equipment could they possibly find in New York City?
"Wouldn't it be easier to go somewhere else for hunting equipment?" Kurt wondered aloud, trying to ask more questions without being rude. "New York City isn't exactly known for its hunters."
"You would be surprised," Castiel remarked coolly, "but that's not important at the moment. Is there someone you would like me to call for you? Let them know where you're going?"
"I'll give you my father's number." Kurt gave him the digits. "Thanks for helping me."
"Of course," Castiel handed him a cellphone, "I think you're just what we need."
The statement startled him. What in the world could the man mean by that? Kurt dismissed it as an off handed comment and called his father, certain the pain medication was starting to mess with his head. He got his father's voice mail and left him a detailed message about the attack and what hospital he could be found at. He knew his dad would worry about him, but something reassured him that it would be alright. Something always did. He could not really explain it, but even in the darkest of times, he found a great source of inner strength. He had always been that way.
The ambulance took him to the emergency room. Castiel said he would wait until he had a room for the night before he left Kurt's side. Kurt appreciated the man's kindness. The doctors ran tests, treated his injuries, set his broken arm in a soft cast, and gave him a room for the night. Castiel came up to his room, coffee and a fresh meal from the cafeteria in hand. Kurt ate it eagerly, suddenly hungry. As he fell asleep, Castiel leaned over and whispered into his ear.
"I'll bring Sam and Dean with me to visit you in the morning," Castiel "you're truly a diamond in the rough—-the light of Eleanore."
Kurt snapped his eyes open, wondering how Castiel could possibly know his mother's name. When he looked around the room, he found the man had already left him. He was no longer standing besides him. Kurt wondered how he left so fast. The night stretched on, leaving him with more questions than answers.
