TITLE: Who You Were (may be changed later) [chp. 3/?]
AUTHOR: impulsivememories
PAIRING: Blaine/Kurt
RAITING: PG-13 ~ some violence and mild language in the rest of the chapters
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2,358 words
SUMMARY: As the night emerges, two forces appear, bringing forth dreams, and nightmares yet completely invisible to the human eye. The force that brings dreams, brings hope and strength, while the ones who bring forth nightmares only brings desperation, taunting us and tricking us. These two fight for our souls and suddenly Blaine and Kurt are pulled into this world when Blaine suddenly falls into a coma. It's been a year since Blaine and Kurt broke up, and they've completely broken off contact with each other because of extensive arguments and complete disagreeing. Kurt's been hard at work with his current play, already reaching the top of success while Blaine continues to sort out his priorities, but trying to enjoy life all the same. Yet, when Blaine is suddenly induced in this coma, his subconscious is dragged by a drifter through this invisible world towards the incubus. Ash, the drifter, hides under a massive cloak, trying to conceal his horrid appearance. While in the real world Kurt continues on his great amount of success, blatantly trying to ignore the mere existence of Blaine. Soon, he is being followed by an incubus in mere daylight, something that the storytellers are puzzled by. Soon, both forces, as well as the conscious and subconscious, are pulled into a whirlwind of events, all leading to trying to save Blaine from an eternal nightmare.

Author's Notes: Hello again! Wow, I was quick with this chapter, wasn't I? It's also the longest chapter also, which is odd. But anyway, this is where you get a glimpse into Blaine's life, but also you get to see a bit of the storyteller side of things. In the last chapter, you got to see, well rather hear, the Incubi that is following Kurt. This chapter is basically the chapter where Blaine gets stolen by Ash and the fight between him and the storytellers (which they lose obviously even though there's like six of them, sheesh). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review. I want to know if you actually like my story or not. I still don't know how long this is going to be.

WARNINGS: This fic might be a bit out of character, so please bear with me.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee


CHAPTER THREE

"Honey, you need to eat."

"I'm not hungry mom."

"You haven't been hungry ever since you quit. I'm still wondering why you quit, since you were making a sufficient amount of money and -"

"I wasn't happy there. I've been working overtime for the past month just so I can have a little extra money after I pay tuition for college, but it still wasn't enough. I need to sort out my priorites."

"So why aren't you eating? If you aren't happy there, or here, then where will you be happy? Honestly Blaine -"

"I'm not a child anymore. I've been slaving my butt off ever since I started working there just so I could rack up enough money just for one semester. You told me you wouldn't pay for me, since you wanted me to grow up. Well, that's what I'm trying to do."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Blaine's mother truly has a look of sadness cross her face as she peered down at the floor. Blaine sighed, and being the gentleman he is, he walked over to where is mother was and gave a short sweet hug. "I shouldn't have snapped. I'm sorry mom." His mother looked up at her son that moment, a shy smile creeping across her features. He always loved when his mother smiled, it brightened up every day. "Just promise to eat sometime Blaine." Blaine laughed at that, and nodded, picking up his plate and carrying it to his room upstairs. He set the plate down on his desk as he turned on his desk lamp, brightening up the room just at tinge. There were papers littered everywhere, filled with faces of people and sketches that he never bothered to finish. One of the walls was filled to the edge with more drawings, some hidden behind others. The papers fluttered a bit as a light breeze wafted through the room from the open window. He could hear cars driving in the distance, at what seemed like an ungodly speed. He could here a few police sirens mixed in with the traffic. It was the typical night life in the area he lived, which was sadly still with his parents. He planned to go to school this year, but since his parents weren't offering any money, not even enough to get him a semester, he had to pull back and save up enough before he could head out. At least he still held onto his dreams of becoming an artist. He'll never let that go.

Sitting down, he pulled out a small can of pencils and a blank sheet of paper, trying to form a face inside his head. The hair was brown, dark brown, and the eyes were a vast blue with a tint of gold to them. The face almost looked elven like, like some beautiful creature without any imperfection. It was a face that Blaine wished had never resurfaced in his memory. Of course he still thought about him, how could he not? It was impossible to completely erase a person from your memory, even though the boy has tried countless times. Blaine keeps on telling himself that it's been a year, a full year and that he should move on from all those painful memories. He wished that he never picked a fight all the time, he wished that they never had those arguments. He wishes that, in the back of his mind, every day. He knows that he can never turn back though. Kurt's moved on, and so should Blaine. He needs to focus on the bigger picture, the one where he goes off to college and becomes a successful artist, showing people his ideas and imagination. That's his new focus, not Kurt. That's his past, he needs to focus on the present.

A new face was formed onto the paper, actually two new people. He remembered a mother holding her baby in the park, a loving smile on her face as the baby giggled as they played with the mother's lock of blonde hair. He remembered that so clearly in his mind, because it was so simple and serene. It was a moment filled with happiness and a mother's love for her newborn child. Any person could see in her eyes that she cherished that child. Her hands held the infant so delicately, as if she let go she would lose the child forever. It was a secure hold that just drew Blaine's attention. So now, with the memory freshly stamped into his memory, he started to sketch it out and as he added the last detail to mother's eyes he heard a knock on the door. "Blaine, you should get some rest. Your father is taking you out tomorrow, remember?" Blaine sighed, and said a quick 'alright' to his mother as he put the pencil next to the paper and walked over to the dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt and pair of sweats. He still felt like a child in the household, something he liked, but hated at the same time. He liked knowing that his parents still cared about his well being but he's realized that it's limiting him to their rules. He needs to get out of their hold soon, but that requires money, which he never seems to have enough of anymore. He has his locked account, which he has set up for college savings, but he's learned that he needs a lot more than he thought. Real life was tough.

He clicked off his light, and since he knew his mother was still outside his door, he said a goodnight before he went under the covers. It was a while before he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.


Every night, two forces emerge, one bringing forth dreams of hope and another bringing nightmares filled with regret and wanting. They come from other worlds, the worlds that are invisible to the human eye. The dreams always come before the nightmares and when they were finished, they left to go back to their world filled with sunlight and hope. There are different parts to the force that brings dreams. The main group are the storytellers and then two others branch off from that. Pathfinders and Warriors. Of course, everyone in the world is a warrior for they have to fight with the opposite force every night. Pathfinders try and bring back the people who are stolen away by the drifters at night. The people who are stolen are used as sacrifices when a drifter wants to become an Incubus, the force that brings forth nightmares. They persuade the drifter that they will have beauty and bliss, because they only want perfection. Anything less than perfection is unheard off and strictly prohibited. Every night these two forces fight, but no one in the human world knows of it. Until tonight, when something very uncommon happens.

Santana, a storyteller, was currently sitting in Blaine's room, watching impatiently as she watched him draw. She rather liked Blaine, with his wide imagination and clever thoughts. She was assigned to his family when he was born, and she's been giving him dreams ever since, never not once letting him be touched by an Incubus' shadow. She would never let anything happen to him, he was too pure for that.

When she saw him finally lay out on the bed, she walked over and sat down, but not even giving any weight to the covers, since in the human mind, she's not real. She was real once, alive and healthy, until she died, hit by a drunk driver while she was coming from her current boyfriends house. It was a choice, she had, as the hospital tried to keep her alive. It was in her mind that choice. Either choose to become a storyteller, and Incubus, or a drifter. They gave her the option of heaven, but she refused. She was so young, and she didn't want to leave. Her subconscious told her to become a storyteller, save a person since she herself couldn't be saved. So, when they pulled the plug, she landed in their world, without feeling an inch of pain from the scars that were still there, but slowly disappearing. She still had her fiery temper, but she was a brand new person, one who could save the life of another in case that ever happened. She was always the one saving Blaine, trying to give him some hope.

At the moment, she was softly stroking his hair until he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. She touched his forehead slightly, pulling forth all his happy memories, memories that will help him and give him even the slightest hope. After a bit, she stood up, and with the rest of the storytellers that were in the neighborhood that night went back to the forest they resided in.


It was one in the morning, possibly a bit earlier, when the streets were empty and neither force was there anymore. A street lamp flickered and soon there was a clanking noise, as if steal boots were being dragged across the pavement. There was a hooded figure walking on the street, his cloak made of rags and chains, tinged with dirt and rust. The figure surveyed the houses, turning ever so slightly, not even showing an inch of his face. He turned again, and walked towards a small house, opening the front door and walking up the stairs, not even taking notice of the television that was softly playing in the background, a man lying on the couch unconscious. The figure walked up the flight of stairs, and down the second floor hallway, towards a bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and he walked in casually, as if it was his room. His stance was in a limping motion though as he walked, and peered down down at the curly mop of hair on a boy's head. He looked peaceful, his night being gifted with dreams. The figure stood at the edge of the bed, peering down at him with no emotion, since he knew this was the person. The person the Incubus called for. He stretched out his index and middle finger, lightly tapping the boy on the forhead.


Blaine sat up, his eyes looking around paranoid. Nothing was there, and he fell back slowly onto his bed. He shut his eyes, forgetting what woke him from his sleep. Soon, though, he heard a noise and his eyes flew open but he didn't dare move. There was a girl in his room at the moment, fighting with some other person, throwing punches and trying to hit it in the head with her small staff. The figure blocked every strike that was made, except a few punches made contact. The figure pushed the girl, and twisted her arm behind her back. He banged her head against the desk a few times, papers flying everywhere, but when she regained control, and hit the figure, the papers went back to their rightful place, as if they were never touched. The girl was thrown onto the ground then, and it seemed as if she couldn't get up.

The figure then ran over to Blaine's bed, and pulled him by the back of his shirt off the bed, and was now dragging him out of the room. Blaine struggled until he broke free and ran down the hall towards his parents room. It was always locked during the night, and he knocked with all his might. "Mom! Mom! Please open up." It was no use though, and it seemed as if the woman couldn't even hear the pounding on the door. He was soon grabbed by the neck again and dragged through the house, and even with his constant struggles he couldn't break free from the strong grip that was holding him. That is, until, more figures appeared by a flashing light, and Blaine was pulled free and pushed out of the way. He knelt there, cowering behind the wall not able to move. He watched the scene play out before him, six people against that one figure. Somehow, though, the figure was dominating over them, striking them to the ground as he produced two strangely shaped blades. Blood was spilling, but when one person struck the figure, Blaine could see them damage one of the small drums that the figure had strapped to his cloak. There were at least five drums there, each small but a different size at the same time. The person that was battling with the figure, that Blaine had concluded to be male, was rolled over and forced to the ground. The figure looked around frantically until it rushed towards Blaine and started dragging him again, even though Blaine shouted constant protests.

He was basically screaming by now, and in his bedroom, Santana was being helped up by another storyteller named Finn. She kept on muttering 'get the boy' over and over until her voice came back and she basically screamed, "Get the boy!" Finn ran out after that, and all the people on the ground got up and ran after him.

Blaine was outside now, and the figure was strangely strong enough that he was basically thrown over his shoulder, screaming and yelling 'no!' He could see a group of people running behind them, trying to keep up, but soon he could here the tapping of drums and the figure basically walked up invisible steps and into a portal, and they were no longer on Blaine's quiet street.

Santana came running and caught up with the group as they came to a stop and stared at the portal where the man escaped. Santana fell to the ground, a streak of blood sliding down her face as she stared in horror at the portal that was no longer there. She felt a sense of dread, and defeat, for Blaine was now lost, only a very small chance of hope that they could get him back.


End Author's Notes: I just wanted to put this here, so you get a better understanding. So, Blaine is in a coma because that part of him that was stolen was his subconscious. That's how this whole thing works, just so we aren't confused. The contact that Ash made was bringing Blaine's subconscious to the surface while his actual body was left behind. Just wanted to make things a bit more clear.