On Monday Kurt brought the news to the rest of New Directions that Blaine was scheduled for surgery that morning. Santana recounted her visit to Dalton on Friday, grinding her teeth as she had to admit to being the latest of Sebastian's slushie victims following their duel.
"Where is he getting them from – they don't even have a slushie machine at Dalton!" moaned Kurt. "I heard that his dad is paying for Blaine's surgery though so at least that's something…"
"No it bloody isn't!" snarled Santana. "That's the little creep getting his rich daddy to buy his way out of trouble! He should have been arrested for what he did to Blaine – instead he's still out there without a fucking care in the world!"
"Hell yeah!" It was Mercedes who spoke, but all of the New Directions were getting riled up now. "We should have called the damn cops on his sorry ass ourselves – cos no-one else has and now his dad's probably covered everything over. It's just not fair – if it had been any of us can you imagine what our parents and Figgins would have done?"
Puck stood up. "Dalton finishes after us. I'm gonna skip out tomorrow afternoon and head over there. Teach that skinny, entitled little shit a lesson he won't be able to buy his way out of. No-one does this to one of ours and gets off scot free!"
Sam instantly stood up as well. "I'm with you, bro. What about you?" looking at Finn. "It was Kurt the little creep was trying to go for…"
Finn was less enthusiastic but he responded to the others' high-five. "Yeah, I'll come. Looks like the only justice Kurt and Blaine are likely to get. But no full-on vigilante stuff – if only because we'll get in big trouble at Dalton if we go too far..."
"Don't worry, we'll go easy on his scrawny little ass, right Sam? I doubt it'll take much to send him off crying – bullies like him are always fucking cowards," smirked Puck.
Santana flashed back to their duel, and the…. hostility?… power which had radiated from Sebastian. "I'm coming. You guys are gonna need to be careful. No offence to Blaine or you, Kurt, but he's not like you guys. He's hard as nails. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a knife on him."
In the end they took two cars to Dalton. Santana, joined by Quinn and Mercedes, was perturbed to see Karofsky of all people tagging along with Puck, Finn and Sam. Kurt, fairly predictably, had bailed, with the very valid excuse of visiting Blaine (who was recovering well from his surgery) but had demanded updates, ideally with video evidence, as soon as the deed was done. Rachel loudly refused to be a part of such vigilantism, while making no attempt to stop it, noted Santana wryly, and Britney, and other gentler souls, had followed her lead with relief.
They strolled into Dalton unopposed – despite its air of opulence and privilege it somehow seemed a considerably more laid-back establishment than McKinley. Quinn, declaring herself the person most likely to be responded to in a positive way, took the lead when they recognised some Warblers and asked them if they knew where Sebastian was.
The pushy one, Hunter, Santana remembered, shrugged like it was nothing to do with him. "He only came back today. Missed most of his classes. Or all..." He looked around at his fellow Warblers, most of whom shrugged, or looked blank. "He's out of the Warblers now anyway. I'm not gonna tolerate that kinda behaviour."
"I hope your friend's ok?" It was the chubby, younger boy, Trent, supplied Santana's brain who had spoken up.
"He will be, no thanks to your friend," snapped Quinn, but she nodded to him in acknowledgement of his courtesy.
"He's no friend of ours," put in Hunter. "Like I said – zero tolerance for crap like that."
Santana was losing patience. "Do you know where he is or not?"
Hunter raised his eyebrows and looked her up and down. "Depends what you want him for. If you ladies are looking for a good time, stick with us. Sebastian's a little slut, but he'd probably be happier servicing your jock buddies here. If on the other hand they're looking to beat the crap out of him, my guess is that he's out by the playing fields having a smoke – no doubt eyeing up the other lacrosse guys, seeing as he's probably ducked practice again."
"Hunt!" gasped Trent. The older boy shrugged. "What? What the hell do I care? He bloody deserves it, bringing the Warblers name into disrepute – they'll be saving us a job. And if his fucking dad comes roaring in here, don't worry, McKinleys, we never saw you, did we guys?" The rest of the Warblers nodded, some, like Trent, more reluctantly than others.
McKinley turned on their heels in the direction Hunter indicated, although Santana thought she heard "go easy on him" follow her in Trent's voice as they left. Well they were only too happy to throw him to the wolves she mused, as they headed out to Dalton's endless, pastoral, playing fields.
It was Sam's sharp eyes which finally spotted the solitary figure of what turned out to be Sebastian reclining gracefully against a tree at the far end of one of the meadows which bordered the playing fields before transforming into the full woodlands beyond. Smoking what Puck and Santana immediately mutually identified as a joint, he barely moved as the group approached, merely turning his head lazily in their direction, slowly blinking (slightly bloodshot) eyes against the sunshine as he blew out an elegant plume of smoke.
"A deputation!" he drawled. "To what do I owe the honour?" His voice was slightly hoarse.
Puck, now on more comfortable ground, took control and hauled Sebastian to his feet. "Listen you fucking little shit, you nearly blinded Blaine and we're gonna give you what you've got coming."
"Yeah, meerkat." added Santana. "and Daddy dearest won't get you out of this one!"
Sebastian seemed to find this hilarious. "What I've got coming!" He laughed, then shook his head. "And it's gonna take…" he squinted against the sun – "… four of you gorillas to give it to me! Unless the ladies (and I use that term loosely…) are joining in as well?"
He shoved Puck away from him. "Look, gang, I'm sorry your little hobbit friend got hurt – the stuff wasn't even meant to hit Gay Face in his…. gay face… it was only supposed to wreck his precious princess clothes, like I told Satan here last week..." handing his spliff with a flourish to Santana.
Puck had had enough and shoved him back, hard against the tree. Sebastian swiftly put his hands up, placating "-but I can see you gentlemen will have satisfaction-" and suddenly the mocking tone in his voice was gone "- so COME AT ME, BOYS – FUCKING DO IT!" he finished with a howl of rage and flying fists and suddenly Puck was on the ground, and the rest of the McKinley boys were upon the Dalton boy as Puck scrambled to his feet to launch himself after them…
… But Santana heard an agonised wail – the kind which she should not have heard, not yet anyway, and saw a flash of red, black and blue from the ground as Sebastian's shirt was pulled free and "STOP!" she screamed, looking back desperately at her girls for support while launching straight into the melee grabbing at the nearest shirt to pull its owner off – "He's hurt – he's already fucking hurt – can't you see?!" And Mercedes was hauling Sam to one side and shrieking too – "You heard her! Get off him!" And Quinn was there too, but it took Finn's help to finally pull Karofsky off, and they gazed in horror at the slight boy huddled on the ground, shirt half over his head along with his arms , every exposed bit of his skinny torso covered in huge, dark bruises, scrapes, cuts.. "were those fucking marks from a belt?" because Santana had seen those before and… Sebastian had somehow scrambled to his feet, hastily yanking his shirt back down to cover himself, picking up the forgotten blazer he had been sitting on and backing away from them, eyes feral.
"Sorry about that," he spat out. "Should have mentioned, daddy dearest got there first – but… it's ok. I heal quick. Take a number, come back next week and I'll be happy to oblige you good people then." And, moving way faster than he should have been able to in the state he was in, he was gone, running from them across the field.