A/N: This has been delayed by about a week because I've been confined to my bed due to illness, so I'm sorry for all those I've kept waiting.
As always, dedicated to mothergoddamn who wrote chunks of this chapter in my illness. She's amazing, go read her work, she's my muse, the one I go out walking after midnight searching for

Chapter Three

All the sounds in the world were just a distant hum in Kurt's ear the next day at school. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened last night, his mind was reeling. It was as if someone had handed him a Hogwarts acceptance letter. He stifled a yawn, struggling to keep his eyes vaguely focused on the board. He had stayed up half the night talking to Blaine about the unusual circumstances of his death.

"So they just attacked you? Out of nowhere? How did they even know you were there?" Kurt's voice was incredulous. Blaine shrugged and hugged his knees to his chest.

"I don't know. Maybe they saw his car next to mine; it was a hot spot." Blaine's voice sounded flat.

"That doesn't make any sense. Have you ever told anybody else about this?"

Blaine just shook his head miserably into his knees. "You're the first person who could see me, let alone who could hear me."

"So you've spent all this time alone?"

Blaine rested his chin on his knee and pulled a wry face. "Over 50 years... they kind of all roll into one when you're not paying attention."

"What did you do all this time?"

Blaine frowned and scrunched up his face in thought, "I don't... I can't...I just kind of was? People came and people went, I blinked and it was a new millennium," he sighed heavily and smiled a little at Kurt. "And then you were here."

Why was it only him who could see Blaine? More than half a century spent in one house and no one had ever mentioned it being haunted. Actually, now that he came to think of it, he didn't know that. He scrawled a note in his binder to check out the history of his house.

If he was going to look into that, why should he stop there? Kurt's lips curled into a smile, he had just thought of a brilliant new plan.

"Mr. Hummel? Sorry to pull you out of your daydream but do you think you could turn to the next page with the rest of class?" The class tittered as the teacher pulled his glasses down to the beak of his nose, looking at Kurt. "I mean, I don't to rush you or anything. It would be just nice for us to share this with you."

Kurt's face felt aflame as he avoided Mr. Clarkson's eyes, instead looking down at the offending book in question and... History? How had it got to last period so soon? Burying his head in the pages he pretended to read about World War II and covertly opened his binder again. Chewing his pen thoughtfully he read over his list. Jennifer Love Hewitt, eat your heart out.

Mr. Clarkson's voice drifted away as Kurt's mind returned to the evening before.

"So why were you and Billy in the car together anyway?"

"We were friends." Blaine said tightly, staring at his hand which he was rhythmically clenching and unclenching into a fist.

"On Winter Hill? That's where the low and depraved go to get their kicks."

Blaine's face remained impassive, eyes downcast.

"We went to talk. Our friends didn't exactly mix, as you might have noticed." Blaine shrugged and swept his hand through a pillow. Kurt wished he wouldn't, it creeped him out.

"I don't believe you."

"That seems to be your standpoint in life."

"I think you liked him." Kurt kept his tone light, his eyes searching Blaine's face for a reaction. Blaine looked up at Kurt and blinked.

"Of course I liked him, he was my buddy." His voice wavered a little.

"More than that..."

Blaine's eyes flashed, Kurt could see the muscles in his jaw work as he gritted his teeth.

"It was childish exuberance, nothing more. I was 16; he was an older cat, we were tight. I was excited."

Kurt felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he shivered, it was colder in the room.

"Come on, there has to be more to it than that."

"No." Blaine's voice was tight.

"But it doesn't make any sense, why would the beat you up just for talking? Why all the secrecy, just for a friendship?"

"You won't understand..." Blaine bit out, his eyes blazing.

"Try me! It has to make more sense than this anyway-"

"ALRIGHT, I LOVED HIM! OKAY?" Blaine roared at Kurt, fists clenched by his sides.

Kurt's picture frames flew off his shelves with a –crack-,he heard bottles on his dresser fall and tumble to the ground, his bedside lamp flared into a burst of brilliant white before exploding, showering the side with broken glass and plunging them into dusky darkness. Blaine's chest heaved as he breathed heavily. Slowly he released his fist, looking back down at his hands.

"I loved him," He said quietly, "and there was nothing I could do about it. They thought I was sick... that...that I infected him." Kurt wished he could touch Blaine, to cover the boy's hands with his own, to comfort him.

"It's okay, I understand. Well, kind of. The only boy I've ever been in love with was Finn..."

Blaine shot him a sharp look. "Huh? Only boy...what? He's...your brother?"

"He's not my real brother... it's a complicated and very long story. Just... it's okay, alright? Being 'gay' is nothing to be ashamed of," Kurt quirked a smile at the ghost boy staring at him like he had lost his mind. "I'm not."

Kurt's stomach clenched at the memory of how Blaine's eyes had widened when he had realised what he was trying to say. "Everyone knows? And no one rags on you?" almost no one. Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his seat; he had kind of skated over that with Blaine. He knew he wasn't being entirely truthful with the boy, but he needed to know that things could be better. He had to figure out why Blaine was still trapped on this earth and fix it. Was that crazy? Kurt didn't care, he had to do this! He had to because

"I'm all he has! I have to help him!

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel, that's very kind, but I think General Lee has it covered."
The class laughed uproariously as Kurt slid low into his chair, heat radiating off him in waves, and waited to be saved by the bell.

.o.

"Back again, Mr Hummel? I don't think I've seen you in the library this much since you found out the truth about those Hardy Boys books..."

Kurt blushed. "I'm actually here to have another peek at those yearbooks."

"Oh, someone's got a spot of McKinley pride!"

Kurt shot her a mock offended look. "I'm doing a project. For Glee club. About our school's old stars."

The librarian's face brightened and she leaned in close to Kurt, "Well, you know I used to be the head Majorette! Youngest one in Ohio!" She confided proudly, Kurt gave her a wan smile and giggled humourlessly, mouthing oh really?

"Well, I'll keep you in mind!" He trilled, clutching at his bag strap as he turned to leave. "Oh! Wait a second," He spun back on his heel, one finger in the air. "You may have known who I'm looking for. Tall, blond footballer called William?"

The librarian screwed up her face so tightly in thought that it turned into a mass of wrinkles. Kurt shuddered and made a small promise to himself that he would start on anti-aging products tomorrow.

"No...no. Can't say I do. Sorry, Kurt."

Kurt shrugged a little and wrinkled his nose, "It was a long shot, thank you anyway" and headed off to find the yearbook.

Flipping through the book took him longer than he expected, every 'William' he encountered was either bucktoothed, cross eyed, flat-topped or big nosed. He stared down at the prom page—Floating on Air! WMHS 1959 Prom—with a scowl. Either Blaine had some seriously bad taste, or Kurt was missing something.

"Oh, Billy. Is that who you meant?"

Mrs Elstow leaned over Kurt's shoulder and tapped one yellowing fingernail against a picture of a handful of couples dancing in their prom finest. Kurt saw the black and white, grainy imprint of a head of tousled, light hair. Yep! That had to be the guy Blaine was so dreamy over. Wow. Wow.

"Such a shame, really. He was so talented." Her dreamy expression turned into a scowl. "Don't you shush me, young lady!"

"Did..." Kurt looked down at the smiling couple in the picture. "Did he ever marry? Or, anything?"

"No, strange that. Such a handsome young man. Even now."

"Now?" Kurt asked quickly, his chest tightening in excitement. "He's still in Lima?"

"Indeed. I watched him mowing his lawn this weekend." She touched her lip with a wry grin. "So spry."

Oh ew; this lady had some serious libido issues.

"You're neighbours? I mean, I hope. Otherwise you are taking up some strange hobbies."

"Of course he is! He used to be in my book group! At least until Nora kept banging on about that dirty book with the vampires and shirtless dog children." She trailed off, muttering about the morals of kids today.

Kurt grinned down at the picture. This was almost too easy! Kurt could do this! And then Blaine would cross over, or melt or whatever ghosts did, and Kurt could get a bedroom back rather than a meat locker.

"Mrs. E?" Kurt said. "Where exactly do you live?"

.o.

Kurt decided to kick his plan into action as soon as he got home, which was the reason why Blaine was relaxed now, stretched out on his front, lengthways across Kurt's bed and kicking his heels in the air lazily.

"So, what was Billy like?" Kurt probed gently.

Blaine's face melted into a goofy smile as he cradled his chin in his hands. "A total dreamboat! Oh he was a real A-grade hunk. Dark blond hair, a Hollywood chin, bedroom eyes...and he had these shoulders. Like the shoulders of Adonis or something; out of this world." Blaine closed his eyes, lost in a blissful memory. "He really sent me."

"Sent you? Sent you what?"

"You're such a nosebleed," Blaine chuckled, rolling back onto his elbow to face Kurt.

"Sent me, you know? Like 'Darling, you send me. Honest you do, honest you do'" he half sang, fingers tracing an imaginary score in the air.

"That was a thing?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Oh, like you kids are any better with your flying Gee Sixes, oriental queens and Pee Daddies, whatever they are. Yeah, I listen to your radio when you're gone." Blaine said proudly, sitting up.

"Oh, so you're why the batteries are always run down?" Kurt scoffed, opening his laptop.

"I'm not crazy about it to be honest. There's no..." Blaine clicked his fingers. "Romance!"

"Romance?"

"I can only give you love that lasts forever and a promise to be near each time you call, and the only heart I own, for you and you alone, that's all. That's all." Blaine sung, and tilted his head. "That's surely better than some cat telling you that he digs you more than a fat child loves cake?"

"Please don't say cat. I feel like I'm in a beatnik poem."

"Beatnik?"

"Oh, maybe just after your time," Kurt muttered, looking through his playlist. "Look, could you float off? For a few hours? I have an assignment for New Directions and I need to pick a song."

"New Directions?"

"It's our Glee club name. You know, Glee? Music? Singing? Dancing? Like choir but not as soul-destroying or fashion backwards. Sometimes. When Rachel isn't there." Kurt spun in his chair. "Go on, Shoo. Finn is showering. Go enjoy." He flapped a hand in the direction of the bathroom.

Could ghosts blush? Because this one was doing his best impression.

"Oh my God! You already have!"

"No I haven't!" Blaine denied in a strangled voice. "I mean, I may have been passing through walls a few times when things were going on but I saw nothing. I'm no Peeping Tom." He was trying his hardest to look hurt. Kurt shook his head.

"Whatever, Kevin Bacon. I should just be thankful you're not watching me undress."

"Ha ha, yeah. That would be awkward."

Kurt managed to miss the uncomfortable look on Blaine's face, as he clicked on a song. Did this suit his voice? He might need to slow it down to get near his key or...

"What is that noise?" Blaine's face was scrunched up in a look of disgust. "Is your lap machine broken?"

"It's Ke$ha! She's very in right now." Kurt spun the laptop round to show Blaine the video to the song they were listening to.

"It's a woman? It's music? Did no one ever teach her grammar?" Blaine asked, disgustedly. "Or how to wash?"

"No offence, Daddio, but I'm not taking music advice off a dead sixty year old." Kurt said sourly, pulling the laptop back towards him. Blaine peered at the laptop suspiciously.

"You have music on that lappy tv-box-thing?" He asked.

"Yes, pretty much anything."

"Anything?" Blaine grinned, and started reeling off names, making Kurt pull up picture slides and crackling old videos of bands, songs and singers with stiff curls and powder-soft faces. Kurt's fingers flew as he queued up video after video, clicking through each one whilst Blaine reminisced vocally about summers and Christmases lost to time.

"These are pretty good, I mean... I know a few of them. West Side Story is a favourite of mine."

"Really? We did that in Drama Club one year."

"Was there a club you weren't in? You were obviously Tony; I bet you begged to be Tony."

Blaine looked hurt. "He had the best songs to sing."

"You couldn't have been a patch on Richard Beymer."

"Who?"

"Seriously? You died before the movie came out?"

"There was a movie?"

"That's going on the list of 'Things Blaine Needs to be Educated On' right now."

"Well there's a lot I can teach you too! You barely know anything about doo-wop, nothing about rockabilly or swing, and I've seen the thing you try to pass off as dancing, you're always a step behind; you haven't even heard of Johnnie Ray or The Chordettes—"

"I told you I'd heard some Johnnie Ray."

"Only in some movie about some dirty couple."

"Grease Two!"

"Yeah, that. Whatever it is, it sounds awful—"

"It was."

"—and that still doesn't excuse the fact that you're missing out on real music. You know musical theatre, but you don't know artists. Oh you know what you should listen to next?"

Kurt tuned out as Blaine continued his chattering and scrolled through a list of various 50's playlists. Buddy Holly? He'd be good with Buddy Holly. He clicked on the link and waited for it to stream.

"—not Elvis though. I mean he's got a voice, but he's just pretty boy fodder for the teen magazines." Blaine sneered, and then stopped. His sneer slipped off his face, leaving a shocked O in its wake as the first riff kicked in. Kurt felt a ripple in the air, like a wave of icy cold had broken, radiating throughout the room.

"Turn it off." Blaine's voice sounded hollow and distant, his eyes glazed over in a thousand-yard stare.

"What? Are you okay?"

"Turn it OFF!"

The windows began to rattle, shutters flapping so that the room looked like it was rapidly blinking as the fading light from outside was cut off. Kurt felt that electrical hum travel up his arms and down the back of his neck, making his hairs stand on end and his back teeth ache. Books flew off his shelves with a resounding –THUD- and his radio burst into static-ey song. He panicked and fumbled to click the red x in the corner of the screen.

"Okay, okay, stop!" he yelled at the teenage apparition trembling with rage on his bed. Blaine's chest was heaving and his eyes burned. This was scary, what had set him off this time?

"Blaine? Blaine, what did I do?" Kurt pushed his laptop aside and shifted closer to the boy.

"I don't want to listen to that song." He said, levelly.

"Why?"

Blaine was silent, his face turned away from Kurt, still breathing heavily.

"I can help you, you know. If you'll let me." He tried, softly. Blaine didn't answer at first, his fists flexing. "And you don't even have to trash my room to get me to do it." Kurt pushed a little more. Blaine's head dropped down, the ridged line of his shoulders collapsing.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologise. Just let me know what's going on. I mean, you've obviously been through a lot..."

Blaine snorted, lightly.

"And you're here for a reason."

"What do you mean?" Blaine looked up sharply, brows furrowed.

"I've been looking things up, like researching ghosts and spirits," Kurt picked his laptop back up and started searching through his bookmarks. "And they say that the reason why you're still here is because you have 'unfinished business'." Kurt drew out the final words, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. Blaine looked at him like he was crazy. "There's also this one site," Kurt said excitedly, gesturing for Blaine to sit next to him, "that says the reason why I can see you is because I'm going through a huge emotional change."

"Puberty?" Blaine questioned, squinting down at the page over Kurt's shoulder. Kurt scowled back.

"No." He snapped. "My Dad getting remarried to the guy I used to crush on's Mom. Moving house. Coming out." Karofsky. He thought and swallowed. His throat felt tight, he unbuttoned his collar. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Blaine staring at him curiously. He pointed to a line of text.

"See here? Madam Cassandra says that when a person is dealing with large, emotional stress, that is when they are most sensitive to any spiritual activity."

"You're going to trust that TV-book? It's covered in unicorns and sparkles."

"Listen, I had to trust a midget in Chucks and turn-ups first. I've had to broaden my horizons."

"What's wrong with my threads?" Blaine wiggled his feet.

"Nothing, if you're Richie Cunningham."

"Who?"

"Never mind, that's not going on the list. Though if you hang around my Dad long enough, you'll probably catch a surprisingly on point Fonzie impression."

Blaine shrugged, eyes still following the text on Madam Cassandra's site. "So what do they mean by unfinished business?"

"A lot of things. Things they haven't finished, messages they haven't passed on, goals they haven't accomplished, loved ones they haven't said goodbye to." Kurt turned to face Blaine, chewing on his lip nervously. "Listen, I have a proposition for you and I'm not sure how you're going to react so...just be 'cool', alright?"

Blaine's lips twisted into a half smile- half grimace. "I promise."

"I think... I think that Billy is your unfinished business." Kurt ventured, cautiously.

Blaine's features hardened but he didn't say anything.

"You've never really gotten over him; you're still in love with him... I just think that you need to see him again and let go before you can," Kurt waved a hand, "be let go of."

"No."

"Come on, Blaine. We've got to try—"

"No." Blaine spat. "No Billy, not now, not ever. No."

And he disappeared.

Kurt sighed; this was going to be hard. How was he supposed to help Blaine move on if he didn't want to let go? It didn't matter, once Kurt set his mind on something, he was going to follow through.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they'd find Billy.

.o.

Kurt expected to wake up to warm sunlight on his face and the rousing strains of Oklahoma on his iPod alarm. He expected the smell of Carole's Saturday Pancakes to be wafting up the stairs. What he didn't expect was to find two humungous, triangular eyebrows inches from his face.

"Hello. You have freckles." The eyebrows said.

Kurt yelped and hastily pulled the covers over his head.

"You know, watching someone sleep kind of on the checklist for pervert!" His voice sounded high even to him, he must be hitting a register specifically for dogs and voyeuristic ghosts.

"I wasn't watching you sleep."

"So you just happen to magically appear whenever I open my eyes?" Kurt snapped.

"It could happen." Blaine's voice sounded shifty even through the 100% Egyptian cotton.

"Stop watching me sleep, Blaine."

"I wasn't! I was waiting for you to get up."

Kurt tore the covers away from his face and glared at the teenager. "All night?"

Blaine gave Kurt a flat stare. "Shut your pie-hole. Anyway, get your lazy caboose out of bed; we've got a whole bunch of things to do today." He sat back on the bed and spread his arms wide. "I'm going to help you with your Glee club assignment!"

"Oh gee whizz and wowee."

"See, I knew you'd get into it."

Kurt muttered something inaudible about Patrick Swayze never being this irritating and rolled out of his bed to get showered.

"Are you okay? You're making a real kookie kinda face."

"It's called 'please don't haunt me, dead people!' and I'm making it at you." Kurt snapped.

"Alright, dad, don't blow your top."

Kurt made a strangled noise and tore a selection of clothes out of his closet.

"I'm going to get a shower, and don't you even think about floating on in there." He threatened before slamming the door behind him, ignoring the shocked expression on Blaine's face.

"Kurt, are you talking to yourself again?"

Finn stood outside his bedroom door with a towel around his waist, hair dripping into his face. 6 months ago Kurt would have found this sexy as hell, right now?

"Oh shut up, Colossus." He snarled, and stalked off to the bathroom.

"Not a morning person."

In the steamy heat of the bathroom, post-shower, Kurt wiped the mirror and stared at himself. He did still have a few freckles, slightly faded by age and blurred by the foggy glass, but still there. He had new definition to his jaw and shoulders, his body more angular, a few inches taller. He was different. He was leaving the old Kurt behind, and still...

He stared down at the pale curve of his knuckles as he gripped the edge of the basin. And still, things weren't getting any better. He wasn't a kid anymore, but he hadn't left behind the playground taunts and being an adult brought a whole new set of problems. Problems he wasn't ready to deal with. He sighed and twisted on the faucet, running his toothbrush under the cold water. He had someone else's problems to deal with now, and he was going to set them right.

.o.

"Where are we going?"

"To a little place called Lochaven."

"What's at Lochaven? Is that where we're going to practice for your assignment?"
Blaine drifted alongside Kurt as he walked down the street, the late fall air turning the tips of Kurt's ears pink.

"Perhaps."

"I hope it's got a dance space, I wasn't joking when I said we had to work on your steps. I don't know how you became a cheerleader."

Kurt scowled and turned a corner. "Well, your criticism of my natural rhythm is much appreciated, but we're not going to practice." Kurt kept his voice high and light.

"Where are we going then?"

"To see Billy."

"NO."

A trashcan flung itself across the sidewalk, spilling bits of rubbish and empty wrappers across the road.

"Blaine, stop throwing a bitch fit, we're going."

"No! I don't want to."

"Then go! But I'm still going to see him."

A neatly raked pile of leaves exploded in a flurry around him.

"Blaine, you can't just keep running away from the truth. Otherwise you're going to end up stuck here for the rest of eternity, never knowing what you could have had if you just tried!" Kurt yelled, batting leaves away from his mouth and eyes.

The leaves fell to the ground.

"We're here now anyway."

Blaine stared at the sign that read Lochaven Assisted Living.

"An old people's home?"

"A retirement community. The librarian at school? She lives here, she volunteers at the library to fill her day apparently. She knows you. Knew you."

"Hmm?" Blaine's attention was focused on an old woman in a rocker on her front porch.

Kurt tripped up the front steps and knocked on the door. He shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, anticipation tingling in his body. He cast a look over his shoulder to see Blaine lurking in the front yard, shoulders hunched, hands in pocket, the blue of his jeans bright against the yellowing green of the grass.

"Who are you?" A gruff, horse voice barked in his ear. Kurt's breath caught in his throat, his hands fluttering to his chest as he whipped round to see the spitting image of Robert Redford circa 2008. Mrs Elstow was right, still handsome.

"Hello? William Jenkins? My name is Kurt Hummel and I—"

"Who are you, who sent you?"

"What? I—"

"You think his is funny? Who told you that name? Get off my porch! Damn kids."

Kurt just about managed to pick his jaw up off the ground in time for the door to slam shut in his face. What the hell just happened? He looked around to see the old lady in her rocker staring at him, shaking her head.

"Don't worry about him honey, he's been miserable as sin half his life. Probably why he's still alone."

Kurt turned to face Blaine who shifted uncomfortably and squinted up at him.

"We need to talk."

.o.