At this point, Kurt Hummel was rather glad he kept close tabs on his boyfriend. He knew exactly where Blaine would be, at least within a mile radius.
This helped if you get mysterious calls, consisting only of screaming, that gets cut off mysteriously.
Which Kurt had received. He was still shaking; he clenched his fingers together to prevent them from trembling. It took all his will to fill his lungs with deep breaths, and his heart pounded a rhythm onto the inside of his ribs Kurt was sure would bruise.
The only thought in his mind was, I have to find him, mixed intermittently with reverberations of Blaine's wrenching screams. They'd been made tinny, and all the more horrible for it, through his phone's speakers. And no matter what Kurt did, they would not leave his mind.
Kurt had wanted to go to the show, if only to share something with his boyfriend. But it was a shady part of town, and a school night. He'd have to sneak out and sneak in, it just wasn't worth it. Despites Kurt's warnings, Blaine had gone to the show anyway.
You didn't listen to me, and look where that got you Blaine. Lying in an alley somewhere, screaming, injured.. or worse.
He had to go. He had to find him. No one else knew; he wasn't sure if anyone else cared. Kurt snuck downstairs, in stocking feet, silently grabbing his coat and keys. He heard a buzz from the living room. His dad was up watching some late night sports program again. That could complicate the sneaking out bit. Kurt almost made it to the door before someone coughed.
"Kurt? Where're you going?"
Shit.
"It's ten thirty. On a Tuesday. Tell me where you're going."
He mind whirred, trying to think of some lie to throw off his dad. He hated to lie, but he also needed to get downtown as soon as possible. No witty comment or snarky comeback came to mind. Where was his brain tonight? Echoes of the scream came back in answer. Kurt blinked twice, trying to suppress tears.
"Blaine," he whispered. The tears came and pricked at the corner of his eyes.
"What did he do to you?" Burt Hummel was suddenly furious. "If he hurt you…"
The threat hung in the air between them; then it floated softly to the ground. Kurt tried to swipe it away, furiously digging his foot into the floor.
"No.. No, nothing like that," Kurt managed to stutter out, shocked that his father would think that, and scared of the venom in his voice. "H-he's hurt. He, he c-called me. I could on-only hear… screams." Thinking of it, willingly, brought silent sobs to his chest. They broke his sentences in awkward places as he tried to stifle them.
He felt a strong arm around his shoulder. It gently rubbed his arm. Kurt managed to compose himself, relying on deep breaths.
"Kurt, I can't let you do this. I can't let you go out there. It's late, you're worked up. You can't focus. I don't want you getting into an accident. I don't want you hurt because of this."
"I can't leave him. No one knows where he is. He could…"
Seeing the pain, the desperation on his son's face, Burt Hummel cut him off. "This boy means a lot to you. I know that," He paused. "Get in the car. And where is he?"
That was probably the most awkward car ride of Kurt's life. After telling his dad Blaine's general whereabouts, and sure fire directions courtesy of Google Maps, he was lost. He stared at the glove box, hand rubbing his forehead. The phone call replayed through his mind again and again. Courage, he thought. Courage. He repeated it over in his head; it had become a mantra long ago. It repeated through his brain, chasing away the screams. It repeated until he wasn't sure if he was hoping for personal courage or courage for Blaine. But it helped, all the same.
The headlights of the truck shone down a dark alley. Unlike the three before it, this one had a dark lump lying in the middle. Blaine. It could only be him, or a homeless man.
Kurt was already out of the car and running to the body. He knelt down, trying to get a better look. At this point, he didn't care that his jeans were new, and it'd be near impossible to get the stains out.
"Blaine," he whispered. "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine."
It was Blaine, though a sad caricature of him. He was passed out, skin a ghostly purple and lips even deeper so. Blood stained his jacket at odd intervals, but so did sickly green pus. His eye was bruised, and his lip was cut. A faint line ran from behind his left ear and traveled below his jaw line, stopping at his windpipe. It gently oozed blood and bodily fluids. Though it was thin and shallow enough that it wouldn't kill him, Kurt still worried. His eyes continued to examine Blaine; they stopped when they reached his arm.
The right sleeve of his jacket was completely torn off, shredded to pieces. There were three parallel scratches down his bicep, and a corresponding one on the inside of his arm. They matched the line on his neck. Blaine's forearm was even worse. In the exact center was a deep puncture wound. It wasn't bleeding, but the edges were turning a deep purple-green, so dark it was almost black. The dark color followed trails outward, radiating around the hole. As it got further from the wound, they got lighter until they turned nearly yellow at his wrist and elbow. The trails split at random intervals, forming an intricate web of mottled skin. Kurt thought he saw shapes in it. Wait… was it… moving? Blinking, he realized no, it was not moving. It must have been a trick in the light.
Oh, Blaine. What have you gotten yourself into?
Kurt closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His boyfriend was relatively safe, if not sound. He opened them, only to notice a drop of wetness on Blaine's face. Then another, and another. He leaned in to kiss his own tears away. As his chest came over Blaine's he felt it rise up to meet his own. He pressed down gently, trying to avoid any bruises there may be, and felt Blaine's heart. It was weaker and slower than he'd like, but it was there. He was alive.
Something stirred behind Blaine's eyelids. Kurt sighed in relief and remained huddled over Blaine until he heard sirens.
They peeked from behind alley corners, congregating to see the birth of their brethren.
Suddenly, they all were frozen. Someone came by, someone stopped, someone stayed.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
They hissed at each other, wondering about the newcomer. He leaned in, lips barely touching the body's face.
Then it breathed.
They slunk away, whispering. They slunk away to warn their king.
An angel was among them.