Since joining McKinley, Blaine had not been shoved into a single locker. He hadn't been slushied, not one person had called him a homophobic name, and he had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he'd go through this year without incident.

He was wrong.

It was late by the time he exited the school building, having stayed after to work on his performance for Glee Club. He was just crossing the parking lot towards his Hummer when an unfamiliar voice spoke. "Hey fag." The sound came as a surprise; the night had been eerily quiet moments ago, and he had gone through the school without catching sight of a single student. So when Blaine turned and found himself facing a trio of beefy looking guys, the pit of his stomach dropped.

It was obvious to anyone at McKinley that the three were jocks – the problem was, he couldn't pin a name to any of the faces. Were they on the Football team? Hockey? If he remembered correctly, those were the two groups that had bullied the Glee members most.

Swallowing, he tried to force a smile. Be calm, he told himself. Maybe they just got a flat tire or wanted to congratulate him on his victory at sectionals? "Hello," his voice shook a little as he spoke, and he knew the moment the man's face twisted into a sneer that congratulating him was probably the furthest thing from what he wanted to do.

"You've been here for several months now, homo. That's about when your get-out-of-jail-free card expires. The rules here are simple. No queers allowed. So Anderson – that's your name, right? – you've got two options." At this, the large jock paused. He reached an arm out towards the lackey on his left, who obliged by handing him a baseball bat. "One: you can admit that you've seen the errors of your way and go straight, taking this beating with grace. Or two: you can stay a faggot and get beaten twice as hard until your crying like the little bitch you are. So… what's it gonna be, Anderson?"

Blaine stared at them, uncomprehending. He had dealt with bullies before, on several occasions, in fact, but this… this was taking it much further than anything he had experience with. Was this guy seriously going to hit him with a bat? Blaine's eyes flickered from one boy to the next, until they landed back on the guy who had taken charge. From their expressions, he knew trying to talk his way out of this was not going to work.

His hands curled into fists. He had spent years preparing himself against an attacker, but he was pretty sure being outnumbered, against a weapon, with guys twice his size left him little room for victory.

"Fuck you."

The words escaped before he even had time to think about it; he was not about to be cowed into admitting a lie, and regardless he doubted they would be any gentler to him if he did. So he took the third option:

He ran.

Sadly, running didn't get him as far as he had hoped. The three had caught him easily enough within seconds, and he found his thrashing limbs being pinned down. "Oho, you're going to regret that," the largest one hissed into his ear. Before Blaine could reply, pain exploded on his right hip. He cried out in surprise, his eyes shutting tightly as he tried to focus on breathing and not the searing pain that threatened to cause him to black out.

After that, the rest came as a blur. One thing he managed to realize in the midst of the chaos, however, was the bat was only used that once. He heard it clatter somewhere over his head before heavy boots started to dig into his sides, causing the ex-warbler to bite down on his lip in a failed attempt to keep from crying out again.

At some point, one of them must have pulled him to his feet, because he was now shoved against a wall and fists flew at him from several directions. His chest felt like it was on fire and though it couldn't have been very long, it seemed like hours.

He thought he might have managed to hit someone once, but he wasn't sure.

"Hey!" This voice, unlike the others, was very much familiar – it sounded loud compared with the unspoken silence that had developed, and the anger could be felt with a radiating force. Blissfully, the beating stopped. An involuntary gasp slipped through Blaine's mouth, and he was suddenly grateful for the distraction. Blaine's body collapsed, unable to keep his body upright without the forceful hands of his attackers restraining him.

"Well, well. If it isn't Puckerman. You know, I remember a time when we could have counted you in on this action. But that was before you became a singing, dancing pussy." Again, it was the lead assailant who spoke; the other two either weren't sure what to say or simply didn't care enough to.

Blaine could hear footsteps storming over, and a low growl. "Get the hell out of here before I fucking destroy you," Puck spoke with such loathing that Blaine almost thought he was hallucinating. Since when did Puck care so much about him? He probably didn't. It was just the noble thing to do, and they were in Glee together.

Laughter sounded from above him. "You really think you can best all three of us? Even you can't be that stupid."

"I'm not alone, dipshit." Silence met his response.

"You're bluffing."

"Have you ever known me to lie? Mr. Shoe is just a short distance away, along with Finn, Mike, Sam…"

The feet nearest to Blaine shuffled uneasily.

"Dude, let's just go," one of the lesser two whispered.

A momentary silence filled the air, and Blaine wondered if they would stay anyway. But finally the larger one grunted, and soon they were backtracking away. "You fucking rat us out Puck, and your next." Several seconds passed before the sound of screeching tires could be heard peeling out.

Blaine wanted to move… wanted to lift his head and look over at the boy who had probably just saved him from a prolonged agony, but he couldn't. It felt like if Blaine so much as tried, he would break down and start crying uncontrollably, and this was Puck. Mr. Badass. The last thing he wanted to do in front of Noah Puckerman was cry.

"Dude, are you… Let me call 911," Puck's voice sounded afraid, which caught him off guard. Do I look that bad?

"N-no. Don't… please, Puck." He forced his eyes to open (when did I close them?) and met Puck's deep brown ones – had he always had such pretty eyes? Puck's eyebrows were furrowed in concern, and he gave his head a small shake. Blaine hadn't realized he'd gotten so close.

"You're bleeding. We need to get you to a hospital."

"I can't, Puck… if my dad finds out…" He couldn't finish the sentence. His head was throbbing, his throat felt dry, and if Blaine tried to talk again there was a good chance he'd throw up.

Puck's jaw clenched, followed by a string of swear words. "C'mon, then. I have a first aid kit at my place."

When Puck's arms tentatively wrapped around Blaine's waist, Blaine couldn't keep the whimper from rolling forth from his throat. Puck quickly apologized, but Blaine brushed it away with a short shake of his head. It wasn't his fault, after all.

It took about 15 minutes to get to his car, and probably longer as he slid Blaine into the passenger's seat and buckled him in. By the time the car was moving, Blaine's head was spinning. Puck must have sensed his discomfort because he turned the radio on. He even changed the station until Katy Perry was blasting from the speakers. Blaine's lips twitched.

"Mr. Shue and the others weren't there, were they?" Blaine's voice came out a low murmur, and he could tell he was on the verge of passing out. All the same, he peeked over at the driver through his half-lidded eyes.

Puck smiled darkly. "Nope."

(I just updated this chapter to try to fix the point of view so it wasn't as jarring. The last few paragraphs still seem off to me, but it's a little better then before. Also, some of the fight scenario was inspired by a fanfic I read at some point. Sadly I can't recall the name of it, but if I stumble across it again I'll include a link. In that story, Kurt was being attacked by Dave and a group of his buddies.)