Author Notes: Okay, so I have posted this here because I've been away from here for a while. I started out in Hercules/Xena fandom. Glee is sort of my new obsession and this is my first fanfic in quite a while, though I've been writing for a long, long, long time. All reviews are appreciated.
A/N: AU from 2.06 (Never Been Kissed) and onwards. This is a fill for a prompt at the angst meme. Several plotlines from following episodes will absolutely be included here. Every chapter will be quite long, as I hate posting many chapters and keeping up with them all.
Warnings: violence, racism, homophobia, suicide (amongst the dead), suicidal thoughts, drug use (among the spirits), bullying, sexual harassment.
Rating: PG-13/R.
Chapter 1
The dead visited on a regular basis. Sometimes they came at night and asked impossible things in an effort to settle their unfinished business. An aging Italian ghost once requested a trip to Rome, a mobster wanted a grave dug up, a washed out singer wished for fame and decided to give a lonely boy voice lessons. Blaine Anderson had been seeing the dead for the last two years. They whispered their regrets in his ear and revealed their secrets, hoping someone would care enough to listen.
At first, Blaine pretended he couldn't hear them out of a nagging fear they were nothing except hallucinations. Then he had encountered his first angry, violent ghost and received a broken arm when he refused to listen to the man's request to save his son from drugs. An Asian spirit had rescued him from his terrible, frightening wrath. Wesley Montgomery became his closest friend and confidant afterwards, ready to protect Blaine when he needed it.
Eventually, Blaine accepted Wes' presence and friendship once his parents had sent him to Dalton Academy. Other spirits trickled in to see him, begging for a chance to have their final wishes granted. Blaine started listening to them and discovered how great it felt to help others. Wes served as a filter, keeping the violent spirits away from him while sending those with unreasonable requests to other, more available psychics. Blaine helped parents reconnect with their children one last time, recovered lost family heirlooms, revealed family secrets, and assisted grieving lovers as best he could.
The students at Dalton Academy never laid a finger on the only openly gay student within their rank, but they didn't embrace him either. Blaine could not join the Warblers-at least not the living ones-and instead settled for befriending the restless spirits that roamed the school's polished halls. David taught him to dance and watched football games with him on the weekends. Trent taught him how to cook. Jeff and Nick held hands and frequently demonstrated how gay sex worked, though neither boy could orgasm anymore. Blaine blushed whenever their clothes disappeared, but their willingness to accept and love him warmed his heart.
During the day he attended classes. After school he had several extracurricular activities. At night, he sat in his dorm room and listened to the dead tell him their troubles. The Warblers stood guard outside his room so they could screen potential visitors. Wes banged his wooden gavel whenever a new spirit arrived and the council approved their request to speak with Blaine.
The nights passed quickly, spiraling into the early morning hours without much fanfare. On weekends Blaine received a pass and spent his time full filling each ghost's final requests. The spirits never came back once he completed their unfinished business. He didn't know where they went, and none of the Warblers would tell him many details about the afterlife, but he knew they went somewhere else. Blaine often wondered what lay beyond the corporal world. In his darkest and loneliest moments, he considered slashing his wrists like Trent had or over dosing on drugs like Wes did all those years ago.
Being dead seemed easier than living. Blaine could move on without bothering any psychics, because he had no one other than the dead to love him. His parents lived in Chicago. They owned several corporations and traveled constantly. He had one older brother in college that barely acknowledged his existence. A famous quarterback with a perfect girlfriend, perfect grades, friends, and doting parents didn't have time for a gay brother. Their parents favored Grayson and ignored Blaine. Coming out to them at fourteen had been a mistake.
The gavel banged loudly against the door, announcing a new arrival. Blaine set down his guitar and grabbed his diary. Every page had notes on it. He always put the spirits' requests in the locked journal. Names, addresses, social security numbers, bank accounts, safe deposit box keys, and a host of other information had been securely jotted down in the diary.
Jeff's fair hair peeked through the doorway and a smile brightened his face. "You have a visitor, Blaine."
"Name?" He fetched a pen from his desk and poised it on the plain white paper.
"Elizabeth Hummel. Thirty-nine-years-old when she died from Leukemia. She's from Lima."
Blaine scribbled down the information and waved his hand at Jeff. "Go ahead and send her in."
"Okay."
Most students had roommates at Dalton, but the council had managed to get Blaine a single room. No one except the strange gay kid would live in a room where the school's first black student had been lynched by the football team in nineteen fifty one. Dalton had been ahead of its time, promoting tolerance and integration years before Brown v. The Board of Education became precedent. The strict anti-bullying rules had been written into the school's charter and enforced after a hall monitor had found David's body swinging from a rope. The student body had not been so accepting or willing to embrace different races in the early fifties.
Blaine didn't mind staying in infamous room twenty-one, mostly because it meant he had privacy. The students at Dalton tended to be a superstitious and extremely traditional bunch. They believed David's room should remain sacred. The school administration wanted to forget its ugly past and readily agreed to let Blaine live there since he would do so willingly. People often asked him if David haunted the place. Technically he did, but Blaine casually brushed it off and nonchalantly announced he never noticed anything unusual.
A tall, blond haired woman with blue eyes and porcelain skin walked through the closed door. Blaine quickly assessed her clothing choices. Reading endless issues of Vogue taught him everything he needed to know about fashion. History books and vintage magazines helped him figure out what era his visitors came from, which assisted in his ability to actually help them live out their dreams.
Elizabeth Hummel wore a tasteful yellow designer dress that he'd seen in last month's issue of Vogue. Blaine raised his eyebrows at her polished Prada shoes and white scarf. The woman had clearly been wandering the earth for a while. Most spirits didn't have the ability to alter their appearance unless they had taken the time to figure out they could manipulate the world around them. Some spirits didn't have the patience, several just wanted to move onto the other world, and others never really knew how to do things for themselves.
"I'm Blaine." He smiled warmly as Elizabeth gracefully sat down on the floor. "How can I help you?"
"I've heard about you." She sized him up in one haughty look. "For years. The boy that sees the dead. A psychic able to help us, in whatever ways he can. I didn't want to come, but I fear I have no other choice."
Blaine nodded his understanding. "Why not? You've obviously been here for sometime. Most spirits are eager to finish their business and move on. Why have you stayed?"
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. "I stayed for my family. I'm sure you've it heard this before, but they needed me. Especially my son. I wanted to watch out for him. He's such a sensitive boy. Burt-my husband-didn't really know how to handle him. I knew Kurt was gay since he was three. Burt wasn't exactly thrilled or accepting. Then I got sick. They didn't really have a choice anymore."
The story touched several nerves. Blaine kept his thoughts to himself and let the woman continue.
"Kurt needed me. I learned that I could effect things." Elizabeth smiled. "Their emotions when I concentrated enough. I convinced my husband that he loved my son regardless of his sexuality."
He sucked in a breath. Experienced spirits could communicate through dreams and influence other's feelings. Blaine had found this out personally many times. The Warblers often showed him things, little snippets of their past lives, when he slept. Sometimes the more violent and traumatic spirits slipped through his dead friends' barrier. Those dreams haunted him. Blaine had woken up screaming on more than one occasion.
"I had to do it." Elizabeth narrowed her blue eyes. "I had to. For my son. He's-he's so lonely. Not as much as he used to be, but still. Kurt would lay under my dresser and call for me after a terrible day at school. Burt had a bottle of my old perfume in there, so I spilled it. Kurt smelled it and talked to me. He still does whenever things get too hard."
"So you're here for him." Blaine wrote down everything Elizabeth told him.
"Yes." She sighed. "Burt has accepted him on his own. Loves him without me influencing him anymore. But Kurt needs your help. There have always been bullies-he's the only out kid at his school-but this-football player. It's gotten out of hand."
Blaine's hand froze when she mentioned the bully. Dalton had become a silent, somber sanctuary. One he cherished and hated at the same time. The Sadie Hawkins dance had ended violently and tragically, revealing the presence of spirits to him after Nick had been murdered by the football team. Blaine still had nightmares about that terrible night two years ago. Nick had stayed by his side through it, though Blaine had never really accepted his companionship until Wes' convinced him to. The dark haired teen journeyed with him to Dalton and remained a loyal friend, joining the Warblers once they realized he constantly loitered.
"Kurt is so strong and brave, but Karofsky terrifies him." Elizabeth glowered with rage. "I've tried to help as best I could. I even convinced Rachel Berry to say something to the Glee Club! Do you have any idea how disturbing that girl's dreams are? She dreams about her own funeral!"
"Is she a cutter?" Blaine paused his writing. "Sometimes people really do want to die."
"Don't be ridiculous. Rachel dreams about her funeral because she thinks no one really appreciates her. It's narcissism at its finest. I have to give her credit. She did try to help Kurt, and the boys in Glee Club tried to confront Karofsky on my son's behalf. The boy never got in trouble. No one caught him in the act, and his harassment has gotten worse. Kurt is too terrified to tell anyone just how horrifying it's become. This boy-Karofsky-threatened to kill my child!"
The lightbulb in the ceiling exploded. Blaine cried out in surprise and covered his head in fear. Wes ran through the wall, grabbing Elizabeth by her shaking arm.
"No violence!" The Asian teen hissed as Blaine whimpered in fear. "Get out!"
"You have to help him!" Elizabeth screamed. "Kurt Hummel! One three five oh five Pace Street, Lima!"
A lamp crashed to the floor. Blaine curled up on his bed, trying to escape her wrath. David, Trent, and Nick appeared and began to wrestle with the ghost. She fought them and screamed with fury. The windows rattled. Books flew off the desk. A chair broke in half.
"Get out!" Wes hollered. "Get out!"
"Leave!" Nick flung his wrist and Elizabeth screeched. "Don't touch him!"
Elizabeth escaped from their grips and bolted out the window, flying away into the night. Blaine wiped tears away from his eyes. Wes and Nick peered down at their friend, concerned.
"She's gone." Nick laid down beside Blaine, wrapping his nonexistent limbs around him. "She's gone away."
"I don't want to see her again." Blaine trembled, wishing Nick could really hold onto him instead of merely projecting comfort. "Why are all of the older spirits so violent?"
"They're frustrated." Wes gently ruffled his hair. "You know that."
"I'm tired." Blaine yanked the comforter over his shivering body and sobbed.
"Are you going to help him?" Nick softly prodded, turning off the lights with a simple wave of his hand.
"I'll see." Blaine nodded. "Yes. I can't really let this one go, can I?"
"He's just like us." Nick agreed. "Go to sleep. I'll take you on a date. Where would you like to go?"
"Broadway," Blaine smiled, "dinner and the theater. I think I'd like to see RENT again."
"I'll sing you a song," Wes offered, "Teenage Dream."
The Warblers started the opening lines in perfect harmony. Blaine hummed along to their wonderful a cappella, wondering if he'd ever find someone to love him that wasn't dead.
Bright city lights and towering skyscrapers stretched across the skyline. Traffic buzzed beneath the rotating restaurant. Servers hurried through the crowded dining room, expertly jotting down drink orders and bringing out tasty appetizers that cost a small fortune. Nick smiled as he poured a glass of white wine and poked at a dainty tofu dish.
"Isn't the food fabulous?" The brunette rubbed his fingers across Blaine's.
"It's fantastic." Blaine stared at the orchestra approaching their table. "Isn't this a little over the top?"
"Of course not." Nick waved a violinist over and whispered something into his ear.
Blaine blushed when the band started to play Canon in D. The familiar melody bounced off the large glass windows. The patrons quieted down, their attention suddenly focused on the two boys holding hands. Nick gracefully stood, gently tugging Blaine onto his feet and pulling him into his arms.
Nick leaned forward, his hot breath hitting Blaine's neck. "Dance with me."
"I'll never say no to that." Blaine laughed and spun on his heels, grateful for all of the dance lessons.
The music continued and the crowd became mesmerized by the young couple twirling around the perfect white tables. Blaine giggled when Nick spun him and released his hand, expecting him to quickly return to the waiting arms. An attractive piano player caught his eye. Blaine stumbled as he saw porcelain skin and blue eyes staring back at him, confusion dominating the beautiful boy's fair features. The pianist hit a wrong note. The restaurant's white lights abruptly darkened and faded into a long hallway.
Rows of metal lockers filled the edges of Blaine's vision. Students with backpacks pushed through the crowd. The boy with porcelain skin stumbled as a bigger, leering boy in a red and white letterman jacket shoved him into the unforgiving metal. A loud bang replaced the music. No one turned around or even seemed to notice when the jock began to stroke the smaller boy's chest.
"I don't want you anywhere near me." Porcelain's voice cracked with fear.
The command did not deter the other boy. A small wedding cake topper rested atop Porcelain's binders. Blaine watched as the jock leaned forward, snaking his chubby fingers around the figurine.
"Can I have this?" The bigger teen did not wait for an answer, opting to pocket the topper without permission.
Porcelain stood there numbly, lips trembling while the jock lumbered down the hall. The bell rang and students scattered like rats surprised by a spoiled house cat. A curly haired teacher wearing an out dated sweater vest turned down the hallway, frowning as he spotted the trembling boy.
"Kurt?" The man slowly approached the petrified pianist. "Are you all right?"
Kurt jumped at the man's voice, forcefully shaking his head and biting his bottom lip. "No. No, I'm not. Mr. Schuester-I-I need to tell you something."
"Let's go into my office." Schuester offered a thin smile, clearly unsurprised by his student's statement.
Kurt nodded. Blaine followed the pair down the hallway, pausing mid-step as a deep voice bellowed through the twisting corridors.
"You tell anyone, and I'll kill you!"
Spinning on his heels, Kurt turned and ran away from Mr. Schuester. The jock chased after the fair skinned boy. Blaine was breathless by the time he caught up to them in an empty science classroom. The solar system hung above their heads. Blaine found Kurt laying on a desk, crying as his tormentor pulled his undershirt out of his pants.
"Please, stop." The smaller boy struggled, pleading with the jock. "Karofsky, I don't want this."
Karofsky stopped his wandering hands, breaths coming in short gasps. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-I'm sorry. Please don't tell! I'll stop. I won't slushy you anymore!"
Kurt gasped when the older boy ran out of the classroom. Blaine frowned at the pair, not understanding their dynamic. Kurt collapsed back onto the hard wooden table, clearly relieved his assailant had stopped the unwanted advances. Tears leaked from his blue eyes.
"I quit." Kurt looked directly at Blaine, desperate for a sympathetic ear. "I quit. I quit. I couldn't handle it, being in Glee Club with Karofsky!"
The smaller boy launched off the desk and flung himself into Blaine's arms. He didn't expect the move.
"I want to quit." Kurt cried into his shoulder. "But I can't. Karofsky won't let me. Please, Mom, tell me what I should do!"
The classroom began to fade away, morphing back into the spinning restaurant. Blaine screamed as he spotted Elizabeth Hummel standing behind the hostess station.
"Do something." The ghost gripped his face, raking her long nails against Blaine's left arm.
The dream ended with Blaine rocketing out of bed, blood erupting from his sliced forearm. Nick and Wes followed him into the bathroom.
"I couldn't stop her." Nick apologized to Blaine as he frantically yanked out his first aid kit.
"Oh god." Blaine's stomach lurched. Blood oozed onto the tiled floor.
"You're going to need stitches." David motioned to Wes. "Get someone's attention!"
"Bad spirits." Blaine muttered as the blood loss started to effect his thinking. "Bad spirits hurt."
Someone knocked on the bedroom door.
"Blaine?" Thad's muffled voice distracted him from the burgeoning pain. "Blaine, are you in there?"
Blaine tried to respond to the Warbler, but he felt strangely dizzy. The tile was cool and refreshing against his cheek. Thad entered the room with a floor manager hot on his heels.
"Oh my god!" The dark haired teen blanched.
"Look at all of this blood!" Roger Heart stared at the smashed lamp and scattered glass covering the dorm room. "He must have sliced himself on that lamp. Call nine-one-one!"
Other students began to drift into the hallway despite the late hour, whispering about ghosts and cursed rooms.
"I'd never sleep in that room!" Walter Reed announced as paramedics arrived, hauling heavy equipment down the halls.
"David's ghost finally got him!" Freddy Yunker shook his head. "No way am I ever setting foot in that place again!"
Blaine could hear their whispers as he gripped Wes' hand tightly. The stretcher traveled down the hallway with every dead Warbler on its heels. Nick sat on the end of the gurney, determined to shield his friend from the spirit standing near the elevators. Elizabeth Hummel hissed at the other ghosts.
"Say his name!" Lights flickered dangerously, causing several innocent bystanders to shiver in fear.
Some people were extremely sensitive to the presence of spirits. While only a handful of psychics could actually see and interact with the dead, many intuitive individuals often felt them lingering nearby. Blaine closed his eyes and clutched Wes' hands, wanting one of the living students to offer him some genuine comfort. They never did. Thad awkwardly trailed behind the stretcher, unsure how to handle Blaine's longing looks. Maybe the senior finally felt slightly guilty for convincing the real Warblers that they couldn't afford to have a controversial singer within their ranks since competition season had just started. Blaine had not even really wanted a solo. All he needed was to be a part of something real, but Thad and his council had denied him the chance.
"Say my son's name!" Elizabeth's eyes began to turn red, growing furious with anger.
"Kurt." Blaine whispered to her, fright tainting his voice. "Kurt Hummel."
"What?" Thad tilted his dark head towards the injured teen. "What did you say?"
"Kurt Hummel." He repeated and looked into Wes' worried eyes for reassurance. "Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel."
"How do you know him?" Thad peered at him, obviously familiar with the name. "I'm pretty sure he's the reason we lost sectionals. Singing Don't Cry for Me Argentina like a pro. That range! It's too bad we don't have his kind of talent. Would you like me to call him?"
"No!" Blaine shook his head, praying Thad would ignore his incoherent babbling. "No! It hurts, Wes."
"I know." Wes clasped his hand around his bicep, unable to do anything more. "I'd heal it, if I could."
"None of us know how." Nick said mournfully, sorrow etched into every word. "We haven't been here long enough."
The paramedics silenced his throbbing pain with a needle, gently informing their patient that it was nothing more than a light sedative. Blaine couldn't answer the medic's questions about his parent's whereabouts. Paris or perhaps London this week. Grayson would know. The ambulance's engine started and sirens wailed, signaling an emergency to other drivers on the road. Thad climbed in the back with the head night guard, Mr. Scafani.
Hospitals were a beacon to the dead. Spirits searched for their lost loved ones, ran screaming through the halls, haunted morgues (though pathologists seemed oblivious to their presence), offered what comfort they could to dying children, and had epic temper tantrums. Blaine had learned the hard way to avoid hospitals at all costs. The ghosts sensed his psychic connection to them instantly and flocked to him like moths would to a single bright lightbulb on a dark porch. The Warblers kept them at bay, but he could hear their pleas to help and covered his ears with his hands.
"Leave me alone!" Blaine shouted to an empty hospital room, wanting nothing more than to succumb to sleep. "Leave me alone!"
The constant noise kept him awake until the nurse came around again. A brunette nurse named Carol smiled warmly at her sullen patient.
"It's late." She checked his blood pressure, frowning at the high numbers. "Sweetheart, is something wrong? You should have rang me."
"I can't sleep." Blaine confessed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "It's too loud."
"Well, I can certainly make you more comfortable. I'll give you something to help you sleep." Carol fiddled with syringes on a tray, eyeing the deserted room. "Would you like to wait for your parents to come back so you can say goodnight?"
"They're not here." Blaine heard her startled gasp at his bitter, lonely tone. "They're working."
"Oh, sweetheart." Her eyes began to well. "Would you like me to sit with you for a while? I'm going on break soon."
"Okay." Blaine smiled, grateful for a caring gesture, however brief it would be. "I'd like that."
The medicine began to take its effect as Carol sat down in a chair besides his bed, chatting about nothing really important. Nick hovered on the opposite side. Blaine blinked at the unreadable expression on his face. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear the guy was jealous. Blaine silently derided his ridiculous paranoia. Nick loved him; he wouldn't mind someone living comforting Blaine for a little while.
Chapter 2
A spotlight followed Blaine as he ran across the stage in exuberant enthusiasm, eager to please the crowd. Top forty music always won any congregation over. Belting out familiar notes to Train's Hey, Soul Sister had the young girls cheering wildly at the short boy running around on stage. Blaine loved preforming at King's Island. The Warblers backed him up, expertly following the music with their own unique voices.
"I'm so gangsta, I'm so thug!" Hopping on the balls of his feet, Blaine easily moved around the other boys on stage.
The crowd hollered for more, impressed by his agility. Nick smiled as Blaine winked at him. A nervous pair of blue eyes suddenly appeared, throwing him off mid-step. Kurt Hummel stood in the front row besides David. The brunette looked like he wanted to throw up. Blaine continued with the song, trying to ignore Kurt's unexpected presence.
Thunder boomed overhead, startling the audience and spooking the stage crew. Lightning flashed. Several young girls began screaming as zombies started to pick apart the crowd. The monsters began ripping into exposed flesh, eager for an easy meal. Yelling, Blaine turned to grab Nick's hand. The brunette reached for him as Kurt shrieked for help. Nick's hand tightened around his, but he knew he couldn't leave Porcelain there alone.
"I'll save you." Kurt didn't resist the offer as Blaine curled his palm around shaking fingers.
Red and white letterman jackets adorned the zombie's grotesque flesh. Blaine led Kurt down the stairs leading to the stage, running away from the horrible monsters. Nick glared at Kurt. "This is all your fault. It's not supposed to happen like this."
"What?" The blue eyed boy frowned, clearly unable to comprehend the meaning behind Nick's words.
"We're supposed to finish the show, ride the ferris wheel, eat funnel cake until we puke, and then I'll win Blaine one of those huge stuffed animals!" Nick's grip tightened.
"So you've done this before?" Kurt panted, breathless from their run. "Been here before?"
"At least once a week." Blaine knew his answer would sound pathetic. "This-this was the best day of my life."
"You're not supposed to be here." Nick glowered, scaring Kurt into releasing Blaine's hand. "This is the only real date we ever had!"
A loud screech distracted Blaine from Nick's angry words. He froze as red eyes burned into his soul, signaling Elizabeth's arrival. The woman had dressed down, choosing clothing similar to others in the crowd. Reaching for Nick, she pulled him away from Blaine, disappearing under the stampeding feet.
"Nick!" Blaine shouted, fear grounding his feet. "Nick, come back! I need you! Don't leave me here!"
"Blaine!" Nick yelled, his voice muffled by the new distance. "Blaine! She's doing this!"
"It's all right." Blaine mumbled, trying to reassure Kurt. "I know a place where we can hide!"
The muddy earth vanished, changing to plain navy blue carpet and oak walls. Dalton had several study rooms and lounges located throughout the campus. Blaine ran into a nearby study, pulling Kurt behind him as he shut the door. The zombies followed, pounding on the walls outside.
"Help me push some furniture against the door!" Blaine headed for one of the long leather couches. "So they can't get in!"
"Okay." Kurt moved around to the other side of the sofa, using his long arms to push it across the floor. "It's Karofsky. He's everywhere!"
Blaine breathed deeply as the zombies moved onto another room, calling for brains. "He can't find us here."
Kurt stifled an oncoming sob. "I was going to quit, you know. I even complained to Mr. Schuester about him being in New Directions this week!"
"I'm sorry." Walking around the sofa, Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder. The other boy flinched. "What's wrong?"
"It hurts." Kurt's bright red top instantly shredded as tears began to fall from his expressive eyes.
Bruises of every color created a horrific mural on Kurt's pale skin. Blaine forced him to turn around, revealing more lesions on his chest. "What happened?"
"Karofsky." Kurt reached for a simple throw blanket, clutching it to his naked chest. "The football team, the basketball team. The hockey team. They push me into lockers. It hurts."
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I'm sorry. Singing always used to help me feel better when I was bullied. Want to sing a duet?"
"Sure." Kurt's tears began to dry. "What should we sing?"
"Baby it's Cold Outside." Blaine had sung it for a performance at King's Island last summer. "Do you know it?"
"Yes." Kurt waited for Blaine to begin the song.
He easily remembered the notes, opening strongly and smiling when Kurt took over the second verse. They spun and ran around the warm lounge. The light suddenly shifted, sending them into cold night air. Towering white lights surrounded a football field. A scoreboard flashed with digital numbers, indicating the home team was ahead. The crowd in the stands got to their feet as a quarterback bolted towards a goal with a football clutched under his arms.
"Titans!" The bleachers shook beneath stomping feet. "Titans!"
"Shit." Kurt gripped Blaine's hand, pointing at the field. "Finn's in danger!"
"Karofsky." Blaine noticed the lurching zombie purposely let a burly linebacker break through their defensive line.
"Finn!" Kurt shouted, his pleading cry unheard over the excited crowd. "Finn, look out!"
The quarterback went down with a hard, sickening crunch. Everyone gasped when a referee called time out and a tall female coach hurried onto the field. Finn didn't get up. Karofsky lumbered over, shoving the coach away from his next meal. "Brains!"
"This is my fault." Kurt sank back down to the metal seats, crying. "I could have stopped this from happening!"
"What do you mean?" Blaine sat beside the shaking boy. "You're not the one that let a linebacker through on purpose!"
"I should have just done what he wanted." Kurt shook his head, covering his face with gloved hands. "I could have lived with it!"
"Blaine!" Nick's dark eyes found his, clearly relieved that Blaine was unharmed. "Blaine!"
"Nick!" Blaine waved at his friend. "Nick, I'm up here! The zombies are coming!"
"Wait." Kurt tried to reach for him. "Wait, please don't leave me here!"
White blankets tangled around Blaine's flailing legs as he surfaced from the dream. Sunlight warmed his face. "Nick?"
"Right here." Cold, imaginary fingers found Blaine's hand. "I'm right here."
"Morning, slick!" Grayson leaned into his vision, frowning at the photograph resting on the bed. "Isn't that your friend? The one that died?"
Blaine blanched, quickly hiding the old picture under the white sheets. "What are you doing here?"
Grayson sighed. "It's good to see you too, bro. How you feeling?"
His arm throbbed with dull pain, indicating the mind numbing painkillers had worn off. "Not so hot."
"I've got your prescription right here." Grayson patted his black coat pocket, holding up a blue duffle bag. "The doctors are releasing you to my care for the next forty eight hours. I'd say you're in for a long weekend, since it's Thursday. That means you don't have to go back to school until Monday. That's awesome!"
Grayson's sudden willingness to take care of him was unusual. "Where's mom and dad? I don't have my phone with me."
"They're in Tokyo, remember?" Grayson motioned towards the nearby bathroom. "Why don't you freshen up, and then we'll head down to Lima. I'm taking full advantage of this awesome long weekend!"
Blaine glared at his older brother. "Because it's awesome that I hurt my arm, needed eight stitches, and had to spend the night in the hospital."
Rolling his green eyes, Grayson awkwardly patted him on his shoulder. "Come on, you know I didn't mean it like that. Besides, it's not like this is the first time you've managed to hurt yourself in a simple accident. You're such a klutz, Blaine!"
Blaine deflated, hating his brother's condescending tone. "I need to pee."
Grayson offered to help him dress, announcing he knew a fantastic restaurant in Lima they could have an early lunch at. Blaine refused his assistance and finally registered that they were not immediately heading for Columbus or Ohio State's sprawling campus.
"Why are we going to Lima?" He asked, carefully walking towards the restroom. "You live less than forty five minutes from Westerville."
"Selena's family lives in Lima." Grayson grinned at his girlfriend's name. "They offered to put you up for the next few days."
Blaine relieved his bladder and washed his hands in the sink. A toothbrush wrapped in plastic waited for him on the counter, a gift from his nurse. He thought about Carol's warmth, wishing he could stay with her over the weekend. "You're leaving me with complete strangers? Why can't I just stay at Dalton?"
"Blaine." Grayson called over the running water. "You sliced your forearm open, and no one at the school can figure out how you did it. That broken lamp had no blood on it. The administration is concerned about you."
The admission hit him in his stomach, and he doubled over the sink. "They think I did this on purpose?"
"They don't know what to think. Neither do I." Grayson shuffled through the blankets, probably searching for the photograph Blaine had slipped into his sweatpants. "Like I said earlier, this isn't exactly the first time you've hurt yourself on 'accident'."
Blaine thought about telling his brother the truth, but he knew it would just land him in a mental health institution. "I didn't cut myself. I didn't!
"Okay." Grayson sounded skeptical. "I'm not saying you did. Neither is the school. They simply said that they were worried about your health and that you've been caught skipping classes on three separate occasions, you skip meals-a lot, and you have some anti-social tendencies. That's what they said. I called mom and dad, and they asked me to spend the weekend with you."
"So you're ditching me to spend it with Selena instead, right?" Blaine accused, squeezing generic toothpaste onto the brush with unnecessary force.
"Did I say that?" Poking his head into the bathroom, Grayson watched him work the foaming toothbrush around his mouth. "I've contacted all of my professors and told them I had a family emergency. I have to go back to Columbus and take an exam tonight. My evening class gets over late, so I won't be back until morning. The Lopez's said they're happy to have you stay there. I'll come back in the morning with Selena, and we'll hang out. We can do whatever you want. How does that sound?"
Spitting the toothpaste into the porcelain sink, Blaine morosely watched the water run into the drain as he spoke. "I get to spend the night with people I don't know, in an unfamiliar town. It sounds awesome."
Grayson clenched his fists, impatiently tapping his foot. "Maybe if you actually had any friends, you wouldn't have to stay at my girlfriend's parent's house. I'm doing you a favor, you know. You could at least be grateful for it!"
Blaine flinched and resumed brushing his teeth, unable to defend his friendless existence. Sadness formed a large knot in his stomach as he silently dressed. Nick watched him, angry at Grayson for upsetting Blaine.
"You don't need him, Blaine." Nick gently placed his hand against Blaine's neck. "Don't worry, you won't be all alone in Lima."
"We'll go with you." Jeff reassured him, waving at the other Warblers. "We always watch your back."
"I believe this new development may work in our favor." Wes paced around the hospital room, stroking his chin in thought. "Kurt Hummel lives there."
"Your'e right!" Blaine had forgotten his newest case lived in the small town. "Maybe I can make it a productive trip, if nothing else?"
"What are you talking about?" Grayson poked at a single plant sitting on a rolling table next to Blaine's bed. "Who's Carol Hudson?"
The nurse must have purchased the plant at the gift shop downstairs. Blaine emerged from the bathroom refreshed and ready to tackle Kurt Hummel's problems. "She's a nurse. Give that to me."
Grayson shoved the pretty Orchid at his brother, prodding him to get a move on. "It's all yours. Let's go, I've got to sign you out, then we're set to go."
A heavy set orderly forced Blaine into a wheelchair, apparently thinking his legs had been sliced instead of his arm. The nurse's station waved goodbye to them as Grayson pushed him into an open elevator. His brother had signed the papers eagerly, ready to escape the confining and sterile walls. Blaine held the flower in his lap and read the note Carol had left for him: I hope you feel better soon.
The simple words touched his heart. It had been a long time since anyone except his teachers had shown that much affection towards him. Cradling the Orchid to his chest, Blaine ran his fingers along the delicate leaves. Carol had given him an actual gift. "Can we stop by the bookstore on the way there? I want to get a book."
"I don't see why not." Shrugging, Grayson eyed the potted plant. "Do they let you keep plants at Dalton?"
"I'm keeping it." Blaine announced defensively, afraid his brother would try to take it from him. "It was a gift."
"I know that." His brother kept pushing the wheelchair in silence.
David trotted steadily beside the chair. "I know all about Orchids. I can tell you how to take care of it."
"You shouldn't leave it in the car." Trent tilted his head down. "Direct sunlight will kill it."
"Okay." Blaine agreed, keeping his voice low so his brother wouldn't hear. "Thanks for the tips."
Grayson's Lexus came into sight once they passed the second long row of cars in the crowded parking lot. Blaine got out of the wheelchair, climbing up into the passenger seat without assistance. The heater whirred to life once the engine started. Grayson pushed the wheelchair back to the sidewalk, hurrying to get inside the warmer air. "It's freezing outside."
Blaine hadn't noticed the chilly winter temperatures. The weather rarely affected him anymore, since the ghosts constantly surrounded him. They brought slightly colder air with them. He'd grown accustomed to it through the last two years. Opening the driver's side door, Grayson climbed into his seat and floored the gas petal.
The radio clicked on. Coldplay's obnoxious lead singer belted out notes, grating on Blaine's nerves. David caught wind of his discomfort and turned the dial to an upbeat jazz station.
Glaring at the radio, Grayson turned it back to the original setting. "Why did it switch on its own?"
"Don't know." Blaine could barely contain his laughter, smiling as David messed with the knob again. "Maybe it's possessed."
"Stupid radio!" Grayson swore up a storm, fighting with David's invisible hands for control. "Why is it on jazz? I hate jazz!"
After several more minutes of fighting a losing battle, Grayson gave up and settled on jazz. "Stupid thing. At least it's not that far to Lima."
"Driver can't pick the music this time." David hung his long limbs over Grayson's shoulders, playfully fiddling with the automatic locks.
Blaine ended up falling asleep once David moved onto messing with the heater, which sent Grayson into a ballistic rage. His brother promised to send the defective vehicle back to the dealer during the entire trip. They arrived in Lima close to noon.
Selena's family lived in a spacious two story house in an upscale neighborhood named Lima Heights. A petite, thin Latina woman wearing jeans and a sweater waited for them in the driveway. Grayson parked the car in front of the garage, leaping out of the Lexus to hug his fiance's mother.
"Cristina!" His brother let her go, opening Blaine's door in one smooth movement. "This is my baby brother, Blaine."
Blaine shrank against the leather seat, refusing to meet her eyes. "Hello."
"It's good to meet you." Smiling warmly, Cristina motioned towards the house. "You're the only family member I have yet to meet. Your parents threw my daughter quite an engagement party."
"Oh." No one had told him about the party, and his parents certainly had not called or even visited when they had been only two hours away from Westerville. "I'm sure it was lovely."
The plant wiggled in his hands as he got out of the car, slowly trailing after Grayson into the house. Several boxes and two suitcases sat in the living room. Blaine stared at the familiar bags, apprehension crawling through his gut. "Grayson, why is all of my stuff here?"
Cristina paused her gushing over his brother, frowning at her uncertain guest. "He didn't tell you?"
"I didn't know how." Grayson awkwardly shuffled his feet. "Blaine, you can't go back to Dalton."
Blaine's breath hitched, emerging as shallow gasps. "Why not? I get good grades."
Grayson crossed his arms across his broad chest. "Blaine, you trashed your room. Destroying school property carries a harsh punishment. You've been expelled."
"What?" Blaine couldn't believe what he'd just heard, wanting to defend himself but knowing he never could. "I have to transfer?"
"Yes." Grayson sat down on the couch, motioning for Blaine to join him. "Dad-he wants you to stay here with Selena's family. They're willing to take you in-they're glad to have you. They have a daughter your age. Santana goes to McKinley High. You'll start school there on Monday."
"McKinley." Flopping down onto a white love seat, Blaine gripped his Orchid tightly. "That's a public school."
"I know." Grayson didn't attempt to join his younger brother on the other couch. "You don't have to worry, though. Santana's going to look out for you."
"It's a public school." Blaine repeated, panic rising to the surface of his whirling emotions. "They're sending me to a public school! After what happened at my last school?"
"Calm down." Grayson's eyes softened a little. "Blaine, I know St. Catherine's wasn't exactly a tolerant place for you, but that was a private school. McKinley has a no-harassment policy of its own. Dad tried getting you into another school like Dalton, but he's having a hard time finding one that will accept you, considering the circumstances. He's actively searching for a place, but until he finds one, you have to go to McKinley."
"You know what happens to gay kids at public schools in small towns." Blaine didn't even try to stop the tears falling from his eyes. "I don't want to go there."
He didn't mention Kurt or the ugly things he'd seen in his dreams, which only added to his terror. Grayson finally rose from the sofa and sat next to his crying brother.
"Dad's enrolling you in anger management classes. You're also going to see a therapist. Dad's demanding it."
"Grayson, I can't go to McKinley." Blaine pulled away from his brother's hands. "I watched my best friend die-I saw him, laying there on the pavement!"
"I don't know what else to tell you." Biting his bottom lip, Grayson sighed. "If you didn't want to leave Dalton, then maybe you should have thought about that before you trashed your dorm room."
Bolting off the couch, Blaine grabbed the Orchid and ran for the nearest bathroom. Cristina swore as he slammed the door shut, locking it so they couldn't enter.
Blaine's stomach rolled and he threw up into the toilet. Cristina called his name, worry evident in her sultry voice. Wes and Nick barreled through the closed door.
"It's alright." Crouching down, Nick hugged his quivering body. "We'll protect you."
"I won't let anything happen to you, Blaine." Wes placed his hand on Blaine's dark hair. "I swear it. No one will touch you."
Their reassuring words calmed him down. "You promise?"
"I promise." Nick flushed the toilet with a wave of his hand. "Come on, Cristina's calling your name."
"Okay. I'll go out there." Blaine found what little courage he had left, picking himself up off the floor. "How do I look?"
Wes looked at him, his eyes traveling over his friend. "Terrible. I'm sure Mrs. Lopez won't mind."
Grabbing the doorknob, Blaine yanked it open and came face to face with Cristina Lopez. "I spilled some dirt on your floor. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up."
The Latina's lips pursed in disbelief. "It's fine. I'll get it in a minute. Why don't I show you to your room?"
"Sounds good." Blaine followed her out, refusing to look at his older brother. "When do I get to meet your daughter?"
Cristina flashed her white teeth, happy for a change in topic. "Santana will be home this evening. She has Glee Club immediately after school, then she practices with the Cheerios at four."
Santana was a cheerleader, which probably meant she had a fair amount of clout at McKinley. Maybe she could help Blaine avoid Kurt Hummel's bullies. "Did Grayson tell you that I'm gay?"
"Of course. It's not important to me." Cristina squeezed his shoulder, guiding him into a tidy guest room. "My husband is a doctor, after all. Now why don't you put some of your things away? Grayson is bringing up the rest of your stuff."
"Okay." Blaine sat down on the bed, wincing as he sank like a stone. "I'll wait for him."
Light green walls surrounded him, brightened by the afternoon sun. Nick joined him on the bed. "You'll get used to it."
Jeff perched on the windowsill, opening it with his long fingers. "Nice view of the park! Better than looking at other dorm room windows, right?"
Trent eyed the room with critical eyes. "Now that you're living in a house again, I can teach you how to make some fabulous cuisine."
Wes turned on the alarm clock radio. "Maybe we can find some decent music."
An old Duran Duran song started to play. Grayson arrived with Blaine's things a few minutes later, hauling them into the room. "Here you go. I've got to get back to Columbus, like I said, but I'll be back tomorrow. We'll do something together this weekend. Anything you like."
Blaine remained on the bed, staring morosely at his shoes. "Sure."
Shaking his head, Grayson left the guest room and pounded down the stairs. "See you later, bro!"
The music stopped and turned into commercials. David flipped through the stations, grinning when he found some oldies playing. Buddy Holly wailed out a familiar song. "Rave on, it's a crazy feeling, when you say, I love you!"
Blaine sang along, feeling slightly better when the Warblers joined in. Jeff had just began the last verse when he jumped down from the window. A dead bird crashed against the glass, flopping onto the floor.
"I swear, I didn't do it!" Jeff stared down at the dead animal.
Walking over to the bird, Blaine picked it up and looked out the window. Elizabeth Hummel stood at the edge of the park. A smirk graced her thin mouth. "Welcome to Lima, Blaine Anderson!"
Shrieking with fright, he shut the window and quickly drew the curtains across the glass. "Haven't you done enough?"
The soft bed wilted under his weight. Blaine crawled under the blankets, searching for Wes. The ghost understood the meaning behind his look, joining him beneath the covers. "She's outside. We'll keep you safe."
Quiet sobs filled the room. Cristina passed by her new charge, offering food and drink. Blaine feinted sleep, hoping she would just leave him alone. Mrs. Lopez quietly added some water to his Orchid and went back downstairs. Blaine didn't think he could ever sleep again, knowing Elizabeth waited for him outside.
Chapter 3
The house stayed quiet until five thirty. Blaine sulked silently on his bed, unable to face Mrs. Lopez after his meltdown and too scared to venture outside. A door slammed shut as someone arrived at the house. Flicking on the bedroom light, Cristina slowly approached the miserable figure curled under her soft bedspread.
"Blaine." The Latina gently tapped him on the shoulder, imploring him to answer with her dark almond eyes. "I have dinner going in the kitchen. Perhaps you would like to join me? I could use some help setting the table."
Fiddling with the sheets underneath his hands, Blaine opened his eyes. "Okay."
"Excellent." Cristina pulled her hands away from his shoulders, regarding him for a long moment. "I know this must be hard for you, all of these changes, but please know that we consider you a member of our family now. You are welcome here."
"Thanks." Blaine didn't care if the one worded reply fell flat or that Mrs. Lopez probably knew it was nothing more than a false platitude. "I'll be down in a minute."
"Wonderful!" Noticing the closed curtains, Cristina detoured to the window and flung them open again. "It's a full moon tonight. A hunter's moon. I'm sure you'll enjoy the view from here."
He froze, afraid of the specter waiting for him in the park. "I'm sure I will."
Cristina left the room with a warm smile on her pretty face. Blaine could hear voices downstairs, discussing how their day went and laughing at one another's stories. Families were supposed to have dinner together. Listening to their muffled conversation, he tried to remember the last time he had actually enjoyed having dinner with his own family.
Memories flickered through his mind like an old black and white movie reel. Family dinners had been enjoyable when he was younger, long before he'd suspected he was gay. His parents had always doted on Grayson since he'd been their first child. Blaine desperately searched for any memorable dinner that didn't make him feel awkward for not measuring up to his father's high standards.
"You're such a dreamer, Blaine." His father's strained words came flooding back to him. "Always with your head in the clouds, always so caught up in those ridiculous music lessons your grandmother insists on paying for. Dreaming is fine, but you have got to start focusing on your future."
"I want to be a singer." Blaine had confessed to his dad on his thirteenth birthday. "Grandma says I'm good enough."
"Honey." Sighing, his mother had placed her thin hands upon his shoulders. "Your grandmother indulges you. Of course she says you're good-and I've heard you sing-you sing well. But singing professionally isn't really a practical career choice. You have some wonderful opportunities waiting for you in our companies. You need to focus on learning social skills, how to network, how to be confident."
"There are lots of people that want to be singers." His mother had continued, casually shoveling gourmet steak into her mouth. "Singers much better than you, who struggle to make it. You should have seen this boy I saw performing at Rose Warder's seventieth birthday party. Her grandson-I can't remember his name-could sing like a pro. He had twice the range you do! He hit a high F! Do you honestly think you could compete against someone like that, honey?"
Blaine remembered her words hitting him right in the heart, shattering his confidence with each new gentle dig. "No."
"We have no problem letting you continue your music lessons, or participating in choir if you like." His father had smiled, offering support in his own subtle manner. "But we're not supporting it as a career choice. You're becoming a man, Blaine. You're going to run one my companies someday-if not multiple ones. You need to focus on that more."
The dinner had ended in awkward silence. Blaine had finished his thirteenth birthday in tears. The bullying in school had just started to get worse, brought on by his inability to control his stupid body in the locker room. One of the jocks on the football team had noticed Blaine's hard on in the shower, even though he'd tried to hide it. They had teased him, called him names, and hit him with wet towels until his back burned. Blaine hadn't changed in the locker room since, grateful for the bathrooms close to the school's gym. He tried complaining to the P.E. Teacher, but Coach Redman had suggested he find somewhere else to change since he couldn't monitor the room at all times.
His friends had found out about the locker room incident from the school's extremely active rumor mill, realized that he probably liked boys, and quickly abandoned him. St. Catherine's had been a cesspool of snobbery, tradition, and blatant homophobia. Blaine suffered from constant harassment. Nick had it far worse since he'd been on the football team the previous two years. His teammates had found out he was gay on accident, catching him kissing a cute gardener at someone's summer pool party. They had been absolutely brutal towards the handsome athlete.
"Are you coming down to eat, or are you going to stare at the wallpaper all day, Bruce?" A young, slender Latina girl leaned against the doorframe. "My mom asked you to help her set the table almost a half hour ago."
"Right, I'm sorry." Pulling on a clean pair of socks, Blaine followed Santana into the hallway. "By the way, my name is Blaine, not Bruce."
Santana rolled her dark eyes. "Since I'm the one that has to babysit you here, I'm calling you Bruce-since no one likes you when you're angry. I'm just thrilled I get to spend the rest of the year attached to a hobbit with eyebrows triangular enough to make me hate triangles, and I love triangles-well I love prisms."
"I don't exactly want to be here either, you know." Meeting her annoyed glare, Blaine descended the stairs with the slim teen. "I didn't really mind Dalton, you know."
Cristina caught sight of them, eagerly waving at the pair to sit at the table. "Good of you to finally join us, Blaine. I'm sure you'll be on time in the future. You wouldn't want to disappoint your hosts."
Blaine blinked at her sincerity, unsure what to make of her comment. "I'll do my best."
"I hope so." Cristina eyed her daughter with a critical gaze. "Santana, I know you're trying to regain Coach Sylvester's trust, so I made you a light garden salad without dressing and I cut up some apple slices. I suggest you refrain from eating your father's favorite biscuits."
A blank, impassive look crossed Santana's dark features. "Sounds fine with me, Mom."
"I don't think she needs those apple slices." A tall, lean Latino man sporting a thin mustache entered the kitchen. "Especially since you had lunch at Breadstix this week."
Santana sighed, settling in her chair beside Blaine. "Guilty as charged. Brittany and Quinn talked me into it."
Slowly approaching Blaine, Juan Lopez sized up his new house guest and stiffly offered his hand. "Good to finally meet you, Blaine. I hope you'll like it here."
"Thank you." He took the man's hand, suddenly feeling completely inadequate under his scrutiny. "I appreciate your hospitality."
"Which you should." Juan sat at the head of the table, reaching for a plate of noodles. "When my wife asks you for help in the future, I expect you to follow her request. I won't have a rude houseguest staying with in my house."
"Yes, Sir." Blaine poked at the salad on his plate, wishing he could return to Dalton's familiar cafeteria. "I'd like a biscuit."
Cristina turned her dark eyes onto him, studying his figure. "Perhaps you should reconsider that."
Wes appeared at his side, glaring at the older woman. "Blaine, ignore her and take the biscuit. There's absolutely nothing wrong with your figure."
Gathering his courage, Blaine swallowed and met the Latina's eyes. "I'd like a biscuit."
Cristina clicked her tongue in disapproval, but remained silent as Juan passed the biscuits. Dinner continued through the hour and conversation casually switched from acceptable food choices to cheerleading to weekend festivities. Blaine picked at his plate, the joy of a home cooked meal diminished by Cristina's comments. Santana didn't seem bothered by the routine and easily laughed at her parent's wit.
He spoke when someone asked him a question or addressed him, but otherwise remained silent. The Lopez's were nice enough. Once Juan had finished eating, the older man headed into the living room with his wife on one arm and a beer can in his hand. Santana rose to collect the dishes. Blaine stood, helping her clear the table.
"Santana." Holding out his arm, Juan motioned for his daughter to join them in the living room. "Blaine will finish clearing the table."
Santana stopped what she was doing, turning to stare at her father in complete shock. "H-he doesn't even know where any of the plates go."
"I'm sure he can figure it out." Juan shrugged. "Aren't queers supposed to be good in the kitchen?"
A fork clattered onto a plate. Santana's hands shook a little as she picked it up again. "I wouldn't know. I'll help him finish tonight."
Juan let the matter go, choosing to sit on the plush leather sofa and turn on a basketball game. Blaine quickly made his way around the table, gathering up the dishes in a muted hurry. "Thank you. I thought-I thought they didn't care that I was gay."
Santana chuckled lowly, afraid her parents may hear. "What, were you expecting the Brady Bunch here? You clearly have never spent any significant amount of time around my sister, otherwise you'd know that they aren't exactly the most accepting people."
"If they have a problem with me, then why would they agree to put me up like this?" Blaine angrily flung a dish into the open dishwasher. "Grayson told them I was gay!"
"Easy there, Bruce." Santana rinsed off a dirty plate in the sink before she put it in the plastic rack near her long legs. "My father is a plastic surgeon. He started working on my sister when she was fifteen and perfected her when she was about nineteen. Selena's gorgeous now-she's always been gorgeous-but she hated her body, so my dad fixed it. She met your brother and fell in love. He's the perfect man in my parent's eyes. Rich, smart, and successful. They can't wait until they're married. My mother will gain a prominent place in society as an aging socialite, my father will have more patients, and Selena will finally win their approval. It's how it works here."
As the words began to sink in, Blaine stared at the running water. "Oh. So they're just using me."
"Pretty much." Santana shrugged, wiping the dining room table with a handful of paper towels. "Sucks, but it's not like you have much choice here, what with your She-Hulk tendencies."
They finished cleaning up the kitchen in silence. Blaine asked Mr. Lopez to be dismissed, grateful when the older man readily agreed. The Warblers waited for him in his room. He flopped onto his bed as David turned on the radio again, searching for any soothing music. Jeff had found an old board game of Clue in the closet and coaxed him into playing.
"Come on." Jeff prodded, flinging a red piece at Blaine. "I'll let you be Ms. Scarlet!"
"Blaine always gets to be misses Scarlet." Nick folded his legs and scooted closer. "Why can't I be Ms. Scarlet?"
"I want to be Professor Plum!" Wes announced, joining the other ghosts. "I bet he'd get a gavel if he were real."
"I want to be Ms. Scarlet." Blaine decided, rolling the dice to see which one of them got to go first. "Trent, where did you get that chessboard?"
"It was with the other games!" The plump ghost insisted. "David, want to play?"
"Sure." David cracked his ethereal knuckles. "Let's flip a coin to see who goes first."
"We don't have any coins." Trent complained, looking at Blaine for help. "Flip for us?"
Giggling, Blaine fished a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it for his friends. David called heads and won first move. Trent sighed when the black teen set up a King's Gambit, certain he'd lost before he even got the chance to play. Blaine listened to the radio and played several rounds of Clue throughout the night. When exhaustion started to pull him into a light sleep, he jerked awake and pinched his arm.
Twelve pairs of eyes settled on him. The Warblers had scattered around the spacious room and engaged in various games during the night. Blaine sheepishly looked at them, knowing he had to explain his sudden aversion to sleep. "I don't want to sleep tonight if I can help it."
Holding his hand, Nick graciously smiled at the other ghosts. "He's been having nightmares. Elizabeth Hummel won't leave him alone."
Wes' face darkened, anger burning his brown eyes. "Nick-Blaine-I know she's been-harassing you lately, but why didn't you tell me that she's been invading your dreams? They're supposed to be private!"
Blaine nodded, unsure how he should broach this touchy subject. "I-I've been with Nick in my dreams lately."
Wes' jerked violently, tensing as he shot off the bed. "Nick. Let me get this straight. You've been dreaming with Blaine, without the council's permission?"
"Blaine asked me to." Nick defended, backing away from the other ghost. "He wanted me to!"
"How long has this been going on?" Crouching down, Wes stared into Blaine's eyes. "How long, Blaine?"
"I kept having nightmares." Blaine admitted, regretting his stupid confession. "And I asked Nick if he could help. He said he could."
"Blaine." Wes sat across from him, crossing his legs. "There's a reason I told you to come to me about something like this. Nick is inexperienced-he has no idea what he's doing. There are things-bad things-that can get through our barriers we have put around you, to protect you. How long?"
"About a year." Blaine hung his head, ashamed he'd gone against Wes' rules. "Since Angelo."
"Damn." Wes turned his fiery gaze onto Nick. "Damn it! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I never meant to hurt him." Nick kept a firm grip on Blaine's hand, afraid to let go. "I took him wherever he wanted to go!"
"You idiot!" David's fist collided with the radio, sending a bolt of electricity rocketing through the room. "We have rules for a reason!"
"What, what do you mean?" Blaine hadn't really thought too much about the council's formality, content with having someone to share his dreams with. "What's wrong with letting Nick into my dreams?"
"Blaine." Wes' gavel appeared in his hand. "I know you remember those first few weeks you started seeing ghosts, and how they would approach you, ask you for help. Sometimes they demanded it. You did your best to ignore them, until you encountered Angelo for the first time."
A vibrant, terrifying memory jolted his whirling thoughts. Angelo's mutilated face appeared at the top of Dalton's winding staircase. Blaine ignored the ghost as he hurried past, certain the apparition was nothing more than a figment of his mind.
"I want you to dig up a grave, boy." The ghost's thick Italian accent rattled his aching ears. "I need something inside it. Pay attention to me, Anderson!"
Yanking on Blaine's elbow, the ghost dressed in an expensive suit roughly shoved him down the stairs. "I know how to get someone's attention. I'm in other people's business."
Losing his footing on the wooden stairs, Blaine slipped and tumbled into several older students on their way to class. A sickening crack interrupted their easy smiles. "Angelo broke my arm. I don't understand what this has to do with anything now."
Wes clasped his hands around Blaine's biceps. "You know ghosts can influence the world around them, if they concentrate hard enough and learn how to manipulate inanimate objects. Dreams are harder to control, but some spirits can become experts at moving through a human subconscious. Blaine, you've been letting an inexperienced spirit into your mind. That in itself isn't necessarily a bad thing, but certain spirits are more than willing use this as a doorway-especially with such a powerful psychic like yourself."
Blaine's heart stopped beating for a brief second. "A doorway. For what, exactly?"
Wes pressed his lips into a grave frown. "To the living world. It doesn't happen often. It's rare for a spirit to be able to do it, but it has happened several times in the past. It's why other ghosts are flock to psychics."
"It's why we protect you, Blaine." David glared at Nick. "We don't want you to become a Knave."
"Knave?" Blaine hated how small and broken his stuttered response sounded. "What's a Knave, Wes?"
"A servant." Wes moved his hands to Blaine's forearm. "A servant to the ghosts. If a spirit tethers itself to you, gets control of your mind, then you'll lose yourself to it. Forever. When the spirit possessing you leaves your body of its own free will, another will take its place. If the first spirit doesn't leave your body on its own, it can live in your body, for however long it wants to."
The revelation sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through Blaine's body. "How does a spirit tether itself? How?"
David joined Wes on the carpet, grim and serious. "By consuming a psychic's blood."
"I didn't realize that Elizabeth Hummel had invaded your dreams, Blaine." Wes fixed his gaze on Nick once more. "I only felt her once she appeared in your room, intent on invading your mind. I had no idea she had already gotten through."
"Nick's unintentional transgression has put you in danger." Moving closer, David pushed Nick away from Blaine. "He's weakened your mind."
"You can't let him in again, Blaine." Wes informed him solemnly. "You can't, understand? We have to rebuild our defenses. Promise me you won't let Nick into your dreams again."
The severity of the situation brought tears to his eyes. It wasn't fair. He had never asked to be a psychic. Nick had been his only friend at St. Catherine's. He'd watched him die. The dreams were all they really had together. Blaine knew they could never have more, and now they could no longer share their dreams. Nick stared at the floor, nonplussed and regretful.
"I promise." Blaine whispered, clear and meaningfully.
Several Warblers murmured to one another out of earshot, apparently trying to decide what they should do next. David suggested sleep. Blanching, Blaine refused. "No. No way am I sleeping tonight. I'm going downstairs to see what's in the fridge. Alone!"
The command startled the ghosts into a strained silence. Blaine stood and quietly collected the board games strewn around the room. The only one he left out was the chess game, which Trent insisted wasn't finished yet. All of the others went back into the closet and neatly placed onto the top shelf.
No one protested his somber departure downstairs. Padding across the living room, Blaine calmly entered the dark kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Tupperware and various containers of food lined the extremely clean shelves. Each one had a laminated black and white label on it. Blaine selected one with cake in it and quietly grabbed a fork out of the silverware drawer.
"Getting a midnight snack?" Santana's soft drawl startled him. "Shh, they'll hear you!"
Turning around, he found her sitting at the kitchen table eating a small stack of biscuits. "Looks like you're doing the same thing." Blaine smiled tentatively, hoping she wouldn't mind some company. "Can I join you?"
"Sure thing, Bruce." Santana flipped her long hair over her shoulders. "Just don't tell the Queen I'm stealing bread."
"I won't." Blaine sat across from her, digging into a piece of carrot cake. "I don't understand why she criticized you earlier. You're beautiful."
"Ah." She bit into a biscuit, chewing her food with her mouth open. "My mother thinks I'm second best to Selena, since she let dad work on her. I only let him do a boob job."
The casual tone surprised him. "What? You're only seventeen!"
"I know." Sticking her knife into a jar of butter, Santana laughed. "It's the only thing I wanted to change. He seemed satisfied. Dad's a perfectionist to the core."
"I'm sorry." Blaine had thought his own parents were bad. At least they never commented on his appearance or appetite. "Why are you carb-loading this time of night?"
"Why are you?" Santana eyed his disheveled pajamas. "Regretting your little temper tantrum now, Baggins?"
"More than you'll ever know." Blaine ate another piece of cake. "I can't sleep."
He didn't dare mention that he wouldn't sleep until his body demanded it. Santana took a swig of milk. "I've got a big game tomorrow. The championship game. Titans might actually win it, for the first time in like, forever. I'll be forming a beautiful pyramid and performing Thriller at the halftime show."
"Nervous?" Blaine watched in fascination as she spread butter on another biscuit. "Is that why you're defying your mother?"
"No." Santana angrily ripped the bread in half. "Not at all. I'm dealing with my problems right now. Our coach wants to shoot my best friend out of a cannon. A cannon! The jocks made peace with the Glee Club, but I'm pretty sure something isn't quite right there. Karofsky threatens to quit, then he's all sunshine and rainbows. Finn is now best buddies with that meathead. I'm pretty sure Hummel's dating the guy. I just need to figure out to use this information to my advantage."
The name made Blaine pause mid-bite, his fork hovering near his open mouth. "Hummel. Kurt Hummel?"
Santana raised a dark eyebrow. "That's the one. You know him?"
Blaine quickly shook his head, not wanting to draw attention to himself. "No. I know the name though-the choir at Dalton insisted he's the reason they lost."
"Possibly." She waved a hand in the air. "I think Karofsky is gay, but I can't get Hummel to fess up to macking on the guy. I'm pretty sure they're together. I need leverage if I'm going to win Prom Queen this year, and that would be perfect. I'd have the jock block in my court in a New York minute."
The Latina studied him, waiting for a response. Blaine thought back to Elizabeth's burning eyes and Kurt's terrified face. "This game, it's tomorrow, right?"
"That's what I said." She stuffed a third biscuit full of jelly. "I need an ally, but I can't rely on Brit without worrying about Karofsky's dirty little secret being spread around school faster than Lord Tubbington can eat a piece of cheese."
"I'll go with you to the game." Blaine couldn't believe his luck, living with someone that knew Kurt personally. "Introduce me to him. Kurt, I mean. Maybe I can find out if he's dating this Karofsky guy."
Santana's lips curled around her biscuit. "Of course. You're gay. Hummel's much more likely to dish out naughty details of his secret gay love to another gay!"
They finished their late night snacks and headed up to her elaborate room. Blaine eyed some of the strange decorations, confused by the combination of cats and cheerleading paraphernalia hanging on the walls. "What's with the cats?"
"I let Brit put some things up." Santana said fondly, fiddling with a stuffed kitten. "She has a thing for them."
Wes entered the room without warning. Blaine greeted the ghost with a small smile, hoping he could sleep in Santana's room. "Mind if I crash here tonight? That bed in my room sags like an old woman's boobs."
The Latina teen laughed. "Just this once. But if you tell anyone I let you sleep with me, I'll shave off your wedge-brows. Understood?"
Blaine laughed, happy to have a new friend. "Okay."
He fell into a fitful sleep, unable to fully relax. Nightmares plagued his dreams. Sometimes he saw Nick's head getting bashed in. Other times he could smell Elizabeths's perfume and feel her fingers gripping his heart so painfully it hurt to breathe.