Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
Summary: Blaine watches over Kurt Hummel for twelve years before he says hello. SupernaturalAU/Vampire!blaine
Chapter 1: Change
I watched you change
Into a fly
I looked away
You were on fire
The house is not what he expects. It's a shack of a thing, the only decorations are the damaged baby blue shutters closing over a single window and the small garden of weed-choked azaleas underneath it. There's enough light from the half moon to see the paint peeling from the mailbox and the bleached "751" on the box's side – the missing metal letters must have fallen into the weeds that tumble from the yard over the curb. A soft glow escapes from the slits in the shutters and casts a pattern across the pebble walkway as he makes his way toward the front porch.. He takes both steps at once, avoiding the rotten wood that creaks under his feet as he steps to the door. He knocks once, twice and waits in the night air, fiddling with the lint in the pockets of his suit jacket. There's not a shuffle or stir in the house before the door is yanked open by a groomed gentleman in tweed smoking jacket. His eyes alight in recognition, although he is sure that he's never seen him before.
"Blaine Anderson, you're late." The gentleman – boy, really, despite the outfit he can't be much older than how he himself appears – smirks and he sees it: a flash of elongated canines. Just as quickly, they're gone, covered by gums as the man licks his lips. He could be older, then. He opens the door fully, and beckons Blaine inside with a flourish of a bow. "He's asked that you wait in the parlor. He should be along soon. Won't you come in?"
Blaine doesn't miss the sarcasm, the mocking little smile from the man – vampire- as he passes the threshold, and an instant dislike wells up inside him. It's not really unsurprising; his distaste of Jesse's little henchmen isn't an uncommon reaction.
The house is in no better condition on the inside than what he saw in the yard. He's lead down the hallway, passing a couple of dusty family portraits, before he enters the "parlor".
The room is small and cozy; a living room (Blaine smirks at the irony). A chair is pushed into a corner, next to an reading lamp that flickers a bit. There's a small but welcoming fireplace in the center, with an antique couch pushed in front. The fire beckons him further into the room, distantly aware that the welcoming committee has left him alone. He disregards the couch – covered and dust and unused for months – and squats in front of the flames, watching as they dance. He reaches out a hand, relishing the blistering heat. He's always liked fire. The warmth seems to be the only thing that makes him feel human these days.
"Glad you're enjoying my humble abode. Not one of my loveliest villas but I was in a hurry." Blaine turns his head without moving from his hunched position. Jesse St. James is leaning against the back of the couch, dust hanging in the air from where he placed his hands. He has a pleasant enough smirk on his face but Blaine still wants to wipe it off. Jesse continues, "I was expecting you some time ago."
Blaine rises, shrugs, "I had some things to clear up."
Jesse raises an eyebrow at that, righting himself and walking to the front of the couch; taking a seat and crossing his legs.
"Right, right," he says, drawling out the last word, "things." Blaine knows that the accusatory tone is meant to be met with an explanation, but he ignores it. "Why did you ask me here, Jesse?"
The vampire in front of him isn't used to being addressed like this and he's affronted, although he hides it under a a terse smile. Blaine hasn't seen Jesse in decades. He looks no different from before: thick, wavy hair, pristine suit, a superior tilt to his head and his nose in the air.
"I have a favor to ask you," he says after a moments consideration. With any other of his kind, Blaine would have scoffed, laughed. Why would I do anything for you? But Jesse looks smug already because he knows what Blaine's answer will be. He owes Jesse. The word tastes like ash. Blaine isn't accustomed to being in debt.
"What favor?" Blaine asks. Jesse looks pleased and relaxes, leaning back into the couch as he laces his fingers together behind his head.
"I need you to babysit."
This time Blaine really does laugh; a bark of a laugh as he throws his head back. "Really, St. James?" As much as his dislikes admitting it, Blaine owes Jesse a whole hell lot more than that. "What's the catch? Taking care of some werewolf cubs?"
Jesse simply smiles, "Something like that."
Blaine stops laughing at that, curiosity piqued at the look on Jesse's face. Blaine can sense that he's nervous as he fiddles with his cufflinks and shifts his weight forward, twiddling his thumbs as he braces his elbows on his knees.
"It's more of a...long term engagement," he explains. "A few rumors have been swirling around the underground. And you know how I like to be careful. There will be payment. Although I recall you owe me a great deal more than this, I'm willing to give you some extra incentive."
Blaine scoffs, "If you're paying me anyway, why not get one of your goons?"
"It requires a bit of a delicate touch. I hate to admit it, but however much your superiority complex grates on me, I trust you to do a better job than any of the half-wit hobgoblins I have under my employ."
For a moment, Blaine is amused that St. James of all people is accusing him of having an ego. He tosses the idea around in his head, meeting the eyes of a Jesse St. James he realizes he hasn't seen in a while: he's nervous and hoping that Blaine will say yes. Whatever "rumors" he's been hearing seem to have a weight to them that the other vampire isn't keen on sharing.
"You said long term: how long, exactly?" Blaine asks.
"Eighteen years, give or take."
"HA, you're kidding."
"Not at all."
Blaine is at a loss. He's well aware of what he owes Jesse: a lifetime of servitude, if he honored the old "life for a life" system. Jesse could have easily demanded this job of him, without a hint of reluctance. But here he sat, giving Blaine a way out. It was curious enough that Blaine couldn't help but ask:
"And what would I be babysitting?"
Jesse stands lightning fast and is across the room in less than a blink. Blaine had not noticed the ancient chest of drawers pressed against the opposite wall. Jesse opens the top left drawer and takes out a manilla folder, standing in front of Blaine in a flash with the folder extended. Blaine takes it and flips it open. Inside are a few pages of scrawl in many different scripts, as if a number of people were taking down notes on the same page. Blaine flips through until he comes to a picture of a boy. He's maybe six, with soft brown hair and a bow tie. He's set up a tea party in what Blaine assumes is his front yard, the blurred outline of a house in the backdrop. The boy's only guest is a a stuffed elephant.
"A child," Blaine deadpans, hardly believing what he's seeing. "A human child?" he asks, eyes flicking up to meet Jesse's.
"Yes, you'll find he's easy enough to keep up with. He's a homebody really. Prefers movie starlets to wrestlers and-"
"What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing is wrong with him. He's frustratingly average, despite his apparent aversion to masculinity."
Blaine knows there is a catch. But from the way Jesse is looking at him he bites his tongue instead of pushing. He casts his gaze back on the photograph.
"All you have to is keep an eye on him. I mean, don't outright stalk him, that's absurd. Just... check in on him every now and again. Find somewhere in town to stay and keep your senses honed on him. Make sure he stays away from trouble. Do this for me, and I'll consider your debt settled. Once it's over, I'll throw in something else worthwhile. "
There it is. Despite the nagging in his head, he lets out a breathy and frustrated "alright." After all, eighteen years is hardly anything to Blaine. He's been around a lot longer than that. It almost feels like an insult to Jeremiah, if he's honest.
Jesse flashes his pearly whites, clearly pleased. "Perfect."
Blaine feels the first tug of regret when he arrives in front of a house in Lima, Ohio. The town is small and Blaine wonders if his time here will be a worthwhile break or years of relinquishing boredom. He puts his car in park and sits idle, peering into the darkness of the windows. He doesn't expect a household of a working father and mother and six year old son to be awake at this hour so he really doesn't know why he decided to come. Besides curiosity.
He glances at the passenger seat, where the manilla folder sits. For the first time he notices the name "Hummel, Kurt" scrawled on the tab. He reaches over to grab it and flicks on the dash light. He reads over seemingly insignificant information like birth date (it seems he's older than Blaine thought, a few months shy of eight) before he reads more curious tidbits:
favors right ear
significant amount of sleep during spring
fear of dogs
The notes go on for several pages and it makes no sense to him why someone like Jesse St. James is having such a fuss over a kid. There isn't anything in his file that alludes to something significant. His parents are Burt and Elizabeth Hummel, inconsequential for their part. Burt is a mechanic, Elizabeth is a teacher. They're both Ohio natives.
Jesse St. James isn't just some two-bit blood sucker. He's a business man with an image to maintain. He wouldn't throw Blaine into this, essentially wasting a lifetime of favors, if there wasn't something to be gained.
Blaine closes the file and runs a hand through his hair, his fingertips tugging at the curls. His mind is whirling with theories even as he feels a weariness creeping into his bones that reminds him just what time it is. There's a hint of light to the east. He turns the key in the ignition and the car sparks to life.
He was not looking forward to a motel today.
It's been a few weeks since he met with Jesse. Blaine has found a comfortable and forgettable apartment in Lima Heights, a part of town he figures won't question his curious sleeping habits and nighttime rituals. The apartment complex is nondescript and the landlords are assholes enough that the tenants are likely to turn fairly quickly, eliminating any unnecessary observation about Blaine's unchanging looks.
The apartment is a two room. The main reason he decided on this one is because the second bedroom has no windows. He's pleased to have a full-sized bed instead of having to compromise on a bathroom or closet to protect himself from the sun. He isn't domestic so the decorations are simple: a painting that he likes, and a bookshelf half filled with paperbacks. It's spotted with trinkets he's collected over the many years.
His days have been spent there, naturally. His nights have been spent getting to know the town and, of course, Kurt Hummel. Neither are particularly interesting. Lima is practically a backwater town compared to what Blaine's gotten used to over the last few decades- New York, Boston, Chicago. The population is small enough to make feeding tricky, so he's already been to Columbus once to stake out places to feed. For what it's worth, Jesse seems to be the head-honcho around Ohio, and he's already let his people know that Blaine is a special friend. With that kind of calling card, the clubs he'd visited in Columbus are more than happy to oblige him.
Blaine has learned a few things about Kurt Hummel already: He's headstrong and sort of fearless and from what Blaine can tell he doesn't have many friends. The first few days he was in Lima, Blaine spent entire nights watching the boy. He took in his smells and sounds, honing in on the little human, learning to cancel out Burt and Elizabeth. It takes Blaine less time than normal to set up a connection to Kurt; a way to sense him even when Blaine is farther away. By the third night, Blaine wanders through the streets of the neighborhood, reaching out to Kurt and testing the bounds of the connection. He can dimly sense his emotional state (content, for the most part) and he can pick up his scent through the trails of the neighbors. It is dim but solid and certainly enough to keep up with Kurt.
Blaine's waking hours are now shadowed by the tug of the boy, always at the back of his mind. Blaine is pleased that it's taken so little effort to make this link and sets up a schedule to watch him. He only makes it to the Hummel house two or three times a week in an effort to make himself feel like less of a creep. He sits in the shadows of the large, wooded backyard and watches as the Hummel's go about their lives, wondering what - or if - they're hiding something.
A few months have passed when Elizabeth - Liza- takes Kurt out for a dinner with her friends – a ladies' night out that looks like it's been crashed by their children. Martinis are passed around and the children subsequently ignored, sent to sit at a separate table and keep each other company.
Blaine arrives just as the desserts are set out for the kids and second (third, fourth) drinks arrive for their mothers. He takes cover in an alleyway across the street, glad that the party has been seated in front of a few large bay windows so that he at least has something to look at while is waits. The vampire plans only to stick around for a few minutes. The neighborhood is quiet and the only thing he senses his the annoyance swelling in Kurt as he swats at the bread stick that a plump, dark-skinned boy keeps poking him in the face with. Another boy looks up and laughs which only fuels the bigger boy's taunting. The only girl, a pretty Chinese girl with big, brown eyes, seems sympathetic to Kurt's plight but doesn't interfere. She does grip Kurt's hand on the table and gives it a comforting squeeze.
It's less than 15 minutes before the group is leaving. The women are laughing loudly while the kids trail behind them. Kurt is glued to the Chinese girl's side (Tina, he thinks her mother calls her) putting her between him and the boys.
Liza is unsteady from the alcohol as she steps into the street, calling back to Kurt as she digs in her purse for her keys. She isn't paying attention to the car that quickly turns the corner and continues barreling toward her.
Blaine knows what will happen next, and is fully aware he could stop it. He has plenty of speed to push Liza out of the way, even enough strength to stop the car. But instead his eyes flick back to Kurt. He stands close to Tina, oblivious to a moment that is about to change his life, as the girl glances around sheepishly before giving him a peck on the cheek.
That's when it happens.
Blaine can practically feel the flush rise to the boy's cheek. The vampire's breath hitches, pupils blown wide. Blaine is suddenly hyper aware of Kurt; his invades his head, he hears the scratch of his skin as Kurt brings a hand up to his cheek and rubs the spot where Tina's kiss lay. Blaine feels the stab of his fangs as they ascend, staring as Kurt turns to follow his mother. Blaine is too wrapped up in the boy to remember Liza and the car until he sees Kurt's eyes widen, his mouth drop open in a scream,
"Mom! MOM! Watch out!"
Blaine knows he should watch as Liza raises her head and looks into headlights; hits the hood with a crack and flies over the top of the car; slams into the ground, blood everywhere. But he can't tear his eyes away from Kurt, who's still screaming. It's like nothing Blaine has ever heard; a song more than a cry. It's heavenly. He grips the brick of the alleyway, shuddering as Kurt runs to his mother, his cries turning into sobs. His own breathing is uneven as he closes his eyes, imaging himself clutching the boy, bringing his nose to that soft hair to inhale his scent, sinking his teeth into his tiny neck where the pulse is frantic.
He's slammed back into reality as he hears another scream – nothing like Kurt's. This scream is vulgar in comparison and makes him want to gag. It's one of Liza's friends, and she's running toward the wrecked body. Kurt is still crying and Blaine feels the tug again, but as more people take notice the cries distract him – someone call 911, oh god liza are you okay, what happened is she alright, I didn't even see her, she's not breathing – he backs away from the scene, frantic to escape. Kurt is huddled next to his mom, the fabric of her dress bundled in his blood covered hands. Blaine rips himself away from the sight and runs, ignoring the desperate urge to turn around and bite into what he's sure will be the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.
A/N: So there it is. The typos (especially the tense changes, I'm so bad about that!) are probably atrocious because it's like 4 in the morning but I wanted to put it up :)
I've got the next...meh, 2 or so chapters pretty much typed out and this long, epic storyline running around in my head, haha. Let me know what you think! Is it worth continuing? ;)