Author Notes: Thank you to each and everyone of my reviewers:). I also appreciated all of the favorites and story alerts. Here's the next part.

For those that have asked, there will not be any non-con in this story beyond forced kissing/groping.

As the hours ticked by, Blaine searched the entire house for any traces of magic. The Warblers offered pointers for his haphazard scavenger hunt and scoured every hiding place they could think of. Trent discovered several more bottles of cowslip, basil, and other herbs he identified. David sat thoughtfully on the love seat across from Kurt. Blaine watched as the black ghost studied the sleeping boy on the couch.

"Someone has been giving him these things." Jeff pursed his lips, eyeing the living room warily. "It's got to be someone he knows and trusts."
"From the looks of things, he's friends with a lot of girls." Blaine chuckled, turning over a small pink animal sweater in his hands. "Which one do you think is the witch?"
"Could be anyone, really." Shrugging, Jeff looked over at Wes. "Doesn't necessarily have to be a woman. It's hard to say. I don't have the ability to really feel magic the way I used to."
Dropping the sweater to the floor, Blaine stared at the blond ghost in surprise. "You were a witch?"

Jeff had to be the most evasive and mysterious ghost he'd met. The spirit had been wandering earth for decades, longer than any of the other Warblers, and yet he'd never revealed much about his past or why he stayed away from the other realm. Sometimes Blaine's curiosity got the better of him and he pestered his dead friends for details about the afterlife. None of them would really divulge many secrets.

Their answers were always vague and often confusing. Blaine knew very little about the spirit world once they moved on from Earth. The dead had told him of another realm, where many spirits ventured to when they died. Those that stayed behind needed and still wanted something from the living. Most spirits found what they were looking for and moved on, while others continued to roam Earth.

If Blaine asked them about God, they usually dodged the question. Wes had hinted once that not even the dead really knew the answer. A wise, peaceful spirit that lived in Westerville who was waiting for her husband to pass had once said no one needed a higher power since the other realm was nothing more than a different way of thinking. Blaine had contemplated killing himself to find out, but he could never quite find the courage to go through with suicide like Trent had. The ghosts always begged him not to anyways.

Depression had plagued him since he'd come out of the closet and learned that even good, wealthy families could be intolerant. Money could not erase years of religious prejudices or deeply homophobic, ignorant beliefs. Blaine longed for a family that accepted him. At least his parents had never forced him onto the streets. Sending him to Dalton was a form of kicking him out, but he had handled it just fine. The Lopez's were another way of avoiding his sexuality and the issues that came with it. During the last two years he'd learned he didn't really need his family anymore. The Warblers had replaced them in their own, unique way.

Clearing his non-existent throat, Jeff stiffly nodded. "Technically, I was a Warlock."
It made sense, now that he thought about it. Jeff had always known various details and facts about herbs, trinkets, and spiritual matters. Blaine stared at him. "You were a Warlock. Is that how you died?"
Jeff instantly tensed, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, Blaine. I'm not ready."

The standard answer didn't surprise him. "Never mind, then. If I take away the cowslip and the charms we've found, will that release Kurt from being Dave's boyfriend?"
"It doesn't work like that, Blaine." Jeff hollowly swallowed, his pale fingers tapping repeatedly on his exposed forearm. "A binding this powerful has to be consensual. Kurt had to agree to it."
"So if it's consensual, then why is he so obviously scared and spiteful towards his own boyfriend?" Blaine didn't mean to raise his voice, but Kurt stirred and began to turn over.

David scratched his dark chin. "I'd guess that someone forced him into the binding."
"Can she do that?" He thought about the dreams, and how conflicting Kurt's emotions were throughout the scattered fragments of his waking life. "Why would he agree to something like this?"

"Magic itself isn't bad." Jeff defended, obviously offended at his friend's cold tone. "It's the user that decides where to take it, Blaine. It's clear that Kurt doesn't want Dave Karofsky's advances or affection. However, he may not be aware that he is under the influence-so to speak-of magic. A clever witch-or warlock-could easily hide a binding spell. Even a powerful one. Or maybe whoever did the spell forced Kurt to partake in it against his will. Whatever the case, he needs to stay away from the cowslip."

A loud, bitter chuckle interrupted their intimate exchange. Elizabeth stood and approached them. Leaping onto his feet, Wes halted her advances. Blue-green light filled the room. She hit the barrier and hissed. Jeff smirked at her. "Stay away from him."
"So, little warlock." Elizabeth paced around inside the kitchen, angry to be contained in her former home. "It's been you all this time protecting him. And I was foolish enough to believe it was Montgomery."

Blaine stared in complete shock, suddenly realizing that it had been Jeff guarding him all this time. "Stay away from me."
"Oh, you're all so incredibly stupid." Elizabeth glared, focusing her eyes on Blaine. "Sooner or later, I'll have another taste. I need another taste!"
Four wooden cabinets flew open and banged loudly in the kitchen. Several glass coffee mugs toppled out of them, shattering as they hit the tiled floor. Blaine shrieked and curled his knees to his chest. The chair rocked with his movements. "Leave me alone."

Jeff's muscles strained, but the barrier remained in place. "I've been here a long time, Elizabeth. You can't have him."
"Fools." She raged, flinging a pan across the room. "I need a taste, Blaine."
Shrinking into the chair, he covered his ears and whimpered in fear. "Please."
A cold hand touched his face. "Hey, it's all right."

Blaine frantically sat up and looked directly into the crystal blue eyes of Kurt Hummel. "What?"
The kitchen remained intact, no dishes or glasses laying on the floor. Everything was as Burt had left it. Cold tears trickled down his face. Blaine wiped his eyes with his sleeve, realizing he'd been dreaming again. "Bad dream. Can I get you something?"
Kurt eyed him warily. "I'm sorry, but this is my house. What exactly are you doing here?"

"I gave you a ride home." He wondered if the magic affected Kurt's memory. "And your dad asked me stay over since you weren't feeling well."
The fire seemed to drain from Kurt's eyes. "I thought I dreamed that. Oh, I forgot to make sure my dad took his medications. I should go wake him up."
Blaine reached for his hand, stopping him from leaving the couch. "You're still warm. Your dad is fine. I saw him earlier. Here, you lay down and I'll make you some tea."
"Okay." Kurt smiled warmly at him, obviously not used to receiving much help. "Thank you."
"No problem."

Shuffling away from the living room, Blaine put on black kettle on the burner and raided the fridge. Several variations of salad and other healthy dishes stacked the shelves. He picked a shrimp salad out, placed some fruit on the side, and brought it to Kurt. "Here."
"Thanks." After the food disappeared from the plate and the water had boiled, Kurt wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders. "They're going to be mad I missed our date."

"They?" Blaine tenderly sipped at the green tea, raising his bushy eyebrow. "Who's they?"
A loud bang interrupted their late night cap. The front door flew open and crashed against the wall, rattling photographs and unique art pieces hanging there.
Shrieking, Kurt shakily jumped to his feet. The blankets pooled around his feet. "I'm sorry!"
"Don't be." A slim blond girl wearing a green winter coat appeared in the doorway. Blaine instantly recognized her from his dream. Quinn. "This turned out better than we expected."

An older, graying blond haired woman stood beside Quinn. "Blaine Anderson."
Dread filled his stomach and he backed away from the pair. The kitchen had a back door. Kurt trembled as Blaine grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the other exit. "Run!"
"I can't." Kurt forcefully shoved him away, pointing at the door. "You go!"
The brief distraction cost Blaine dearly. A familiar, hulking figure lurked in the kitchen. Dave Karofsky bounded across the room with determined grace and promptly grabbed Blaine by the waist. Crying out in confusion, he kicked at the large football player. "Let me go!"
"Stop it." Dave violently swung him into the wall. Blaine groaned as his head connected with a hard surface. Pain exploded behind his eyes. "Shit. Didn't mean to hurt him!"

The house grew quiet, heavy breathing and the smell of blood permeating the air. After several painful moments, Blaine realized the red stains on the floor were coming from a cut on his head. Kurt visibly shook and approached him with a plastic first aid kit clutched tightly in his hands.
"Leave it, Hummel." The older woman snarled, glaring at the countertenor. "He's easier to deal with this way. Get him out into the car."
"What about Kurt?" Quinn bit her perfect pink lip. "I can stay with him."

"Please." Kurt dropped the first aid kit. It clattered to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere. "Don't hurt him!"
"Shh." Quinn's mother pressed a gloved hand to Kurt's tear stained cheek. "None of that now. If you're good, we'll let you come see him. Quinn?"
Quinn started and wrung her hands, briefly meeting the woman's eyes. "Yes, Mom?"
"You stay here and keep an eye on Kurt. Understand?"

"Yes." Quinn agreed, sorrow filling her pretty blue eyes. "Kurt, let's go into the living room."
"I hate you." Kurt hissed angrily, glaring at the uninvited guests. "I can understand why you're doing this to me. I can. But Blaine doesn't deserve this."
Dave stepped forward and gently caressed his pale cheek. Kurt shivered at the contact. "See you later, baby."
The gesture struck Blaine right in the stomach. It was familiar in an intimate, all encompassing way that he knew well. "Jesus. Nick."
"Yeah." Nick's dark eyes reflected strongly in Dave's face, focusing on him intently. "I figured some stuff out recently. Things that Wes never bothered to tell me. Or you, for that matter."

It hurt to think. Blaine whimpered as Nick lifted him off the floor, cradling him against his massive chest. "Traitor."
The accusation made Nick flinch slightly. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I really am. But I discovered a way to live again. Suicide does things to spirits. Makes them vulnerable. Just like harassment or bullying does. So many things can make people weaker-more susceptible to spirits. I found Dave by accident."
"Traitor." He panted, groaning when Nick placed him into the back seat of the car. "It hurts."

"I know." Quinn's mother turned around, peering at him owlishly. "It's necessary, Blaine. Dave, hurry along now."
"We're alone now." Nick complained, climbing into the passenger seat. "Why don't you call me by my real name, Judy?"
"Because, my dear, it's easier to stick to the habit." Judy shrugged, casually starting the engine. "I need to call you Dave, even when we're alone. One little slip up could give us away, you know."

"Right." Craning his neck, Nick regarded their prisoner in the back. "Blaine's here now. You promised to tell me when I could have Kurt once he was here!"
"So I did." Judy sighed, steering the SUV towards their lovely upper middle class home in Lima Heights. "Once Blaine becomes a Knave, we can preform the ritual on Kurt. Not before."
Nick ran a hand through Dave's hair in frustration. "And how long will that be?"
Judy clicked her tongue against pearly white teeth. "Ah. I knew you were going to ask that question. Elizabeth will benefit the most from tasting Blaine's blood when there's a full moon."

"We just had one not that long ago." Nick complained, frowning. "Won't it be awhile?"
"Yes." Judy smiled coldly. "Blaine will be our guest until then. We have other uses of his unique abilities while he stays with us."
Fear and panic filled Blaine as he lay on the seat. "People will look for me, you know. My family."
The persistent headache and deep, painful throbbing in his arm made it difficult to think clearly. Judy laughed shrilly. "Oh, honey. You're so naive. Don't you think we've thought that through?"

"Please." Blaine begged, not caring if he sounded weak or pathetic. "I just want to go home. My family will look for me."
His words did nothing to sway Judy Fabray. "Oh, I'm sure they will attempt to look initially. But we both know they won't really bother once they find a note in your room, declaring that you ran away from home."

It hurt to admit it, even to himself, but he knew she was right. His parents would probably be relieved that they didn't have a troubled gay son to deal with anymore. Tears rolled down his cheeks, running into the drying blood on the side of his face. The vehicle stopped after a few minutes and Nick got out. Blaine could barely see, let alone try to escape the strong arms wrapped around his body.

A nice, warm house waited for them. Judy and Nick entered through the back door. The pair didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to the sobbing, twitching boy they hauled into the house. Nick carried him upstairs. A master bedroom and three other rooms were symmetrically spread out through the second level. Entering the second, seldom used guest room, Nick gently deposited Blaine onto a queen sized bed.
"This is where you'll be staying." Judy entered the room, carrying an ancient and thick book in her hands. "Scream all you like. No one will hear you. They don't even know this room exists. To them, all they will see is a closet. You can't leave, though I'm sure you'll try. I'll make sure you're fed and have your needs met."

Nick plopped down into an over stuffed armchair in the corner. "Blaine, look at me."
Refusing to cooperate, Blaine shook his head and closed his eyes. The betrayal hurt more than anything he'd suffered through before. "Go to hell."
"There is no hell, Blaine." Nick sounded frustrated. "I bet Wes never told you that, did he?"

Wes hadn't been able to stop any of this from happening, but at least he had not brought him into the witches' trap. "Where are the Warblers?"
"Outside." Nick answered honestly, gesturing to the street. "They know you're here, but they won't be able to help you."
"How could you do this to me, Nick?" Blaine winced at the pain in his head, placing a hand on the oozing wound. "I thought you loved me!"
"Blaine." Nick got up from the chair and sat beside him on the bed. "Calm down. I'm sorry I hurt you. I really didn't mean to, but this body is much stronger and bigger than mine was. I-I know you hate me now. I'm sorry. I never really loved you. Not like you loved me. Not even when I was alive."
"What?" Misery seeped into Blaine's small voice. "What?"

"I was lonely, Blaine." Nick sighed and patted his shoulder. "I was lonely and the only out gay boy at St. Catherine's. You have to understand. I know you came out because you liked me. I didn't really want to date you, but you came out and were friendly to me when no one else would even speak to me."
"So you pitied me." The truth hurt more than the betrayal, more than his head wound. "Why did you stay with me all of this time, if you never really loved me? Why would you do that?"

"What happened to us wasn't fair." Nick's dark eyes flashed, and Dave's face scrunched into a frown. "I was killed, you were beaten into unconsciousness, and none of our attackers were caught. I may not have loved you, but I did care about you. Please believe that. When I realized that you could see spirits, and the attack had triggered your psychic abilities, I knew you would need me. So I stayed. I didn't want to be dead, Blaine. I was only seventeen. If I couldn't be alive, then I'd find a way to make my killers pay. I wanted revenge. So I did some digging while Angelo harassed you and Wes took you under his wing. I found out their names."

The new information surprised him, but Blaine let him continue uninterrupted. A door opened and closed downstairs. Quinn and Judy argued, though he couldn't hear anything they were saying. Their attackers had never come forward and Blaine wasn't able to even name anyone since they had been wearing masks during their assault.

"It was easy. One of them went to McKinley High." Nick pointed at himself. "Dave Karofsky. He was at the dance because he took his younger cousin. The other boys roped him into it. He felt guilty afterwards. I made sure of it. I haunted his dreams and followed him whenever you were busy and didn't need me. Dave ended up trying to commit suicide over the summer. I was there when he did it. Turns out, when someone is in that kind of shape mentally and emotionally, their body is like a revolving door. I was able to pose as Dave whenever he felt downtrodden or sad. Wes and the others never suspected a thing, since I was doing it well away from you."

Suddenly, Blaine remembered his audition for the Warblers and how Nick had encouraged him to sing. It had been Nick that told him the Warblers disliked him because he was gay, that they would never understand what he had gone through. The other ghosts had always tried to push him towards the living. Blaine had been too afraid to reach out to anyone because he'd had Nick, and his friend had insisted no one at Dalton Academy liked him. "You made them reject me, didn't you?"

The accusation didn't phase Nick. "What?"
"The Warblers." He seethed, realizing that he had never been able to interact at Dalton with anyone because Nick had filled his head full of falsehoods. "You're the one that swayed them not to let me join!"
"Yes." Nick admitted, though he didn't exactly sound remorseful. "It was me. I called them while I was inside Dave's body and told them that you had a drug problem. I offered to give Thad a great deal if he hooked me up with the student body. You're fortunate Thad was kind enough not to turn you in, but then again he had his own issues with liquor."

"Oh God." Blaine had never felt so incredibly stupid in his entire life. "No wonder they hated me. They though I was a drug dealer!"
"I needed you to love me." Nick confessed. "Because your love for me was like a drug. It took me a while to understand how it worked, but I could only control Dave's body and live like a normal person when you depended on me. Your gifts are strongest and most powerful, have the most effect on spirits-when you are happy and in love. I needed you. We were connected while we were both alive, which makes our bond special. It's strong enough to tie me to you even after I died!"

"What about other people?" Blaine questioned, understanding the implications. "Theoretically speaking, if I had befriended or even loved someone else at Dalton, would I have bonded so strongly with them?"
Nick nodded, tears pooling around the corners of his eyes. "Yes."
"You manipulated me." Blaine sobbed into his pillow. "So you could-sort of-live again. I hate you! Get out!"

The jock flinched, but gave into his friend's request. Nick stood and quietly left the room. Blaine cried until he fell asleep. It was silent and frightening without the Warblers around to keep him company. The sky was dark and moonless, signaling a new moon. In a few weeks he would be nothing more than a mere shell, serving his new masters in whatever way they saw fit.

Grayson stood in a familiar kitchen, worry drawn across his chiseled face. "Come on, Dad. He wouldn't run away."
Static and impatience crackled through the speaker. "The evidence seems pretty clear. This is just another attempt to get my attention!"
"Do you blame him?" Grayson hissed, uncharacteristically unhinged and angry. "He's practically been on his own since he came out!"
"I understand that you're upset." James Anderson spoke lowly and rage colored his deep baritone. "But I'm not even going to bother filing a police report. I'm sure Blaine will return to the Lopez's once he realizes I've closed his bank account and credit cards. He wants to be on his own, well then he will be!"
"Dad!" Grayson winced as a dial tone filled the kitchen. "You might not care about him, but I do!"

The Lopez's were nowhere in sight. Grayson climbed the steps and headed towards Blaine's bedroom. The lights remained off as he entered. His brother sat down on the empty bed, tears sliding down his face. "God, Blaine. I'm sorry. I should have been around more. Been more supportive."
"He was afraid of going back to public school." Santana stood in the doorway, her slim silhouette casting a long shadow. "He talks in his sleep."
"I know he was." Grayson let his future sister in law take a seat beside him. "I know he was."
Leaning against Santana's shoulder, Grayson doubled over and began to sob. Santana patted him awkwardly. "I'm sure he'll be back once he runs out of cash."

"What are you doing in here?" Selena's cold voice disturbed their moment of comfort.
Santana jumped, quickly moving away from Grayson. "I was just offering him a shoulder to cry on."
"I'm sure that wasn't all you were offering." Selena spat, jealously evident in her high voice. "Isn't it your bed time?"
Grayson stared at his shoes, stiff and uncomfortable as his fiance sat down. "We weren't doing anything."
"I know." Selena offered him a fake smile. "I trust you. It's Santana I don't trust."

A loud clicking noise abruptly ended the dream, thrusting Blaine back into his prison. "What?"
The wall shimmered, revealing Quinn Fabray, who carried a tray of supplies in her trembling hands. "I came to heal you. I'm good at that."
"Leave me alone." Attempting to roll onto his side so he didn't have to face her, Blaine whimpered as a deep pain lanced through his head.
"I can help." Quinn set the tray down on a nearby nightstand and rummaged through the gauze. "I brought you some water."

"Why are you doing this?" He choked out, hating the way her fingers felt against his throbbing skull. "I never did anything to you."
"I don't have a choice." Quinn gently probed the large gash in his head. "You've ruined my mother's pillow with all of that blood. I can get you a new one."
"I want to go home." He thought about Grayson, sorry he'd let Nick warp and twist his opinions so far off kilter, certain for the longest time that his brother had been just like his father. "My brother will look for me."

"Blaine." Quinn carefully unwrapped some white bandages and fetched ointment. "I wish I could take you home. But I can't. I'm-I belong to the Old Solace Coven. I was born into it."
"You could help if you wanted." He accused, furious that she had helped her mother bring him here. "You just choose not to."
Quinn dropped her head, a soft and melodic chant emerging from her petite mouth. The simple rhythmic words soothed Blaine instantly. It didn't matter that he wanted to scream or kick, because the magic had taken control. The flesh on his head began healing. New skin covered the wound, scabbing over. Quinn took advantage of his trance like state and tenderly wrapped white gauze around his head. The pain eased, but he still had a migraine.

"Feel better?" The blond asked once she had stopped chanting. "I can't really heal you all the way since you're such an unwilling participant, but I left you some pain killers on the tray besides the water and juice. I also brought you some crackers."

When he turned over, pointedly ignoring her, she merely sighed and left the room. The clock radio switched on. Static obscured the oldies station for several brief seconds, until a familiar voice began talking over Richie Valens upbeat song. "Blaine, can you hear me?"
Sitting up, Blaine winced as a sharp pain hit him right in the temple. "Wes?"
"I'm here." Wes sounded relieved, but worried. "We're all here."

"Listen." David ground out through wavering radio waves. "This is the only way we can communicate right now. But I have to work on how long I can control it."
"Blaine." Jeff interjected tersely, sounding extremely upset. "I'm sorry about Nick."
"It's not your fault." He said automatically, laying back down to ease his pain. "None of us knew."
"We can't speak long." Wes morosely informed him. "I just wanted to tell you that we'll find a way to get you out of there. I promise."
"Have courage, Blaine." Trent spoke out. "Courage."

"Hello?" Kurt's surprised greeting startled Blaine. "Who's there?"
"Kurt?" Blaine stared numbly at the radio, wondering if he was dreaming again. "Is that really you?"
"Blaine!" Kurt squealed. "I can hear you! I don't know how-but this old CB Radio started randomly clicking and switching through stations. Are you all right?"
"No." He admitted, grateful that he could talk to someone living for a while. "Kurt, has N-Dave done anything to you beyond kissing? Please, tell me if he has."

"No." Kurt breathed heavily into the old fashioned microphone. "Actually, he's been very respectful about it. I mean, he's a little handsy. And he's making me date him, but he's never gone anywhere I don't want him to."

"The coven made you date him, didn't they?" Blaine could see some of the puzzle pieces falling into place, making perfect sense. "And they're the ones that hurt Finn. I'm willing to bet they're also the ones who had a hand in your father's poor health."
A long pause echoed across the radio. "Yes. Oh, I'm so sorry, Blaine. I didn't know they were planning on kidnapping you!"
"It's okay." Blaine pressed his ear to the pillow. "Kurt, why are they so interested in you?"

"Because." Kurt sniffed miserably. "My mother was head witch of the New Valley Coven. They've been at war with one another for centuries."
Of course Kurt had connections with the coven. "How long have you known about this?"
"A few months." Kurt sighed. "I found out about them when my father was in the hospital."
Exhaustion began to claim his mind, pulling him into an unwanted sleep. "Kurt?"
"Yes, Blaine?"

"I don't think I can stay awake much longer." Blaine tightened his grip on the comforter. "Will you sing to me?"
The opening notes of Across the Universe drifted through the small radio speakers. Blaine hummed along, slipping into a fitful sleep. At least he had one living friend on his side.