"Do you think Dean suspects anything?"

Xander nuzzled his husband's neck. "No. Even if he did, so what?"

Sam whimpered and adjusted his head to give Xander better access. "You don't know him like I do, Xander. If he has even an inkling that things are weird, he won't rest until he uncovers whatever he thinks we're trying to hide."

Xander trailed kisses up Sam's jaw. "And what are we hiding, really?" He nibbled on a delectable ear.

Jesus, Sam always tasted so damn good. He really needed to find a way in which he could keep his tongue on some part of Sam's anatomy at all times.

Whoa. New research project.

Sam gawped and pushed Xander away. "Seriously? How about the fact that you are ... who you are? Or that Connor and Dawn aren't your brother and sister but a child of prophecy and the skeleton key to the entire universe?" He scoffed. "Or what about your faux sister Buffy and what she really is, what that school is really about?"

Xander's gaze was patient and understanding, and it just pissed Sam off.

"What's really going on here, baby?" Xander quietly asked. "Is it that you don't trust your brother or that you don't trust me?"

Sam frowned in confusion. "I trust both of you with my life. Why would you think I didn't?"

Xander stroked Sam's shoulder. "You've always told me that you were the cerebral hunter while Dean was the instinctual one, right?"

Sam nodded.

"Okay," Xander continued, "so do you really think the truth is so far out of the realm of possibility that Dean wouldn't believe it? If anything, I think it would answer a lot of questions he must have." He paused and waded through Sam's answering, knowing silence. "Do you think he'd abandon you?"

"Of course not."

"Do you think I would?"

Sam flinched and looked away. "Dean can be difficult. He can make things difficult. He tries so hard to protect me because that was the last thing Mom asked him to do. He takes that seriously." He reached over and cupped Xander's face in his hands. "What if he decides he needs to protect me from you?"

Xander pushed himself up, leaned over and straddled his husband, their noses touching. "I love you," he whispered. "I've waited my whole life for you. Nothing is going to take you away from me. Nothing could ever turn me away from you. You're my everything, Sam, and while I respect the fact that Dean is your brother, if he tries to interfere with our marriage, lines will be drawn and I will be the one to draw them."

"And what if, one day, you just decide I'm not worth all that trouble?" asked a bitter Sam.

"Hey!" Xander exclaimed, taking Sam's chin in his hand and forcing his husband to look him in the eye. "What part of you're my everything was unclear? Sam, I will always fight for you. Always. I'm never going to leave. If our marriage should ever end, that will be your decision, not mine."

Sam's eyes searched his for several long moments. "You really mean that," he murmured.

"I will love you until the second I die and then beyond. I will fight everyone and everything for you. I will always find you if we lose each other." Xander smiled. "So are we good, or do I need to sing a cheesy eighties power ballad to appease you?"

Sam rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Xander's neck. "It's not so much that I'm afraid of losing you but of losing what we've built. I love our life. I love our house." He dropped his eyes. "I don't want things to change. I mean, I know they're going to, you've always told me they would, but I didn't think it would be this soon. I thought we'd have more time."

Xander stroked Sam's hair. "Time for what, baby?"

"To be together. To be married. To enjoy our family." Sam sighed. "What about the kids? I don't want to lose them. What if Buffy and Angel decide to take them back?"

Xander's eye darkened. "Dawn and Connor are their own people. They're old enough to decide what they want and with whom they want to live. If they wanted to be back with Buffy and Angel, they would be. Until they tell me they want to leave, nothing is going to take them from us." He grinned. "Also, since you're only two years older than them, it's weird to hear you call them kids."

Sam squirmed. "But that's how I think of them."

"How?" Xander asked. He observed Sam closely for a moment. "You think of them as our children?" he whispered.

Sam bit his lip and nodded.

"You...you want to have children? With me?"

Sam nodded again. "I do, and we already have them."

Xander pulled away. "You can't tell her."

"She has the right to know," Sam shot back.

Xander shook his head. "Not now. Not until I explain everything to Buffy."

Sam growled. "Fuck Buffy! This has nothing to do with her!"

Christ, Sam hated her. She had done nothing but interfere in his relationship with Xander from the very beginning, casting doubts in Xander's mind, questioning Sam's powers, obliquely asking if Dawn was safe in Sam's company. The last fight Buffy and Xander had about him had been epic and everyone had chosen sides. Dawn, Willow, and Faith had come down squarely on Xander's side while it was only Spike who stood with Buffy. Angel had refused to take a side, as had Giles.

Xander would no longer speak with Buffy, who blamed Sam entirely. Xander's relationship with Giles had fallen apart but, according to Xander, that had been a long time coming. Xander knew Giles loved him but Giles had never supported him when it truly mattered. In the end, he always deferred to Buffy.

The results were still being felt. Those Slayers who knew Xander - namely Vi, Rona, Kennedy, Chao-Ahn, and Shannon - and had never liked Buffy followed Faith's example and sided with Xander. They refused to work with or report to Buffy, and while Faith was proud of them for sticking to their guns, she wasn't thrilled that it had more than tripled her own workload.

Then there were the Slayers unearthed by Xander during his time in Africa. As far as they were concerned, he was their true Watcher, regardless that they were later assigned to others. They viewed Giles as little more than a figurehead and while they complied with his directives, they did so on their own terms. Buffy had learned the hard way to steer very clear of them.

Finally, there was Nysa Dicoupoulos, the final Slayer Xander had discovered. The child of Greek foreign diplomats, she had been born and raised in Namibia and was regarded by the Council as Xander's sole protege. She was fiercely devoted to him and had refused on numerous occasions to ally herself with the Council. She viewed Buffy and Giles as interlopers and resented their attempts to remove her forcibly from Xander's side. Said attempts had never worked and only made Nysa despise them all the more.

Xander was equally as devoted to her and their connection was something to behold. Sam had studied closely the relationship between Giles and Buffy; based on his observations, he had believed he had understood it. He was wrong.

All of the Awakened Slayers had, by whatever unknown power, been imbued with memories of the Sunnydale Hellmouth and the key points which had occurred in those seven years. They were Awakened knowing who Xander, Buffy, Willow, Giles, Cordelia, Oz, Joyce, Kendra, Angel, Spike, Faith, Dawn, Anya, and Tara were. Xander often rued that he hadn't done more, hadn't been more, while in Sunnydale, but the new Slayers had a very different view.

He had single-handedly stopped the Hellmouth from being blown open by zombies.

He had stopped Willow from ending the world with nothing more than his love for her.

Xander had brought Buffy back to life. Twice. He was her Heart.

He was their Heart.

He was the Heart of the Slayer. He had twinned the Line. He was the reason Kendra had been Called, and then Faith, the last Chosen Slayer. He was now as intertwined with the Line as the Primitive was, and the Slayers reacted to him accordingly.

That time when the Primitive and Xander had come face-to-face had been stultifying. It was at that moment that Sam truly began to appreciate not only who Xander was, but what he was and what would be expected of him.

Nysa viewed Xander as her savior, as the person who had delivered her to her destiny, who drove her to heights she had never dared believed herself capable. He was her big brother, her crazy uncle, and a surrogate father all rolled into one, but the core of their relationship was very much that between Watcher and Slayer. As far she was concerned, Xander was the only to whom she owed any allegiance and she would surrender her life to protect him.

Those feelings had also been transferred to Xander's makeshift family. She loved Sam, Connor, and Dawn with her entire heart and they loved her in return. Connor and Dawn, though presented as twins for the sake of their cover, were close but felt no real fraternal feelings for one another; however, both viewed Nysa as a sister.

As for Xander, Nysa had been elevated into the rarefied upper echelons of his heart, those places where only Willow, Anya, Cordelia, Prue, Dawn, and Sam himself resided.

Xander's heart was something of a marvel to Sam. It was so huge, so vast, and Xander held within it a place for everyone he had ever met, encountered, loved, and lost, as well as the entire world. It never ceased to amaze Sam that a heart could be so strong after the many times it had been broken.

Xander loved so hard and so much and so purely that sometimes Sam wondered if that was what had caused the heart attack. Xander's love for him, Cordelia, Anya, Prue, Nysa, the other Scoobies, Giles ... even the vampires ... was incredible to behold. Despite what Xander thought or said, he loved Dawn as his daughter. He loved Connor as a son, though Sam was aware that Connor's love for Xander wasn't quite so innocent.

And then there was ... but that was just bizarre. He would never understand Xander's loyalty to that creature or why he insisted its presence was a good thing.

Granted, Illyria was strangely fascinated by and affectionate with Xander. Must have been the demon magnet thing.

Sam shook his head to clear it, though his anger was surging. He did his best to tamp it down. There was nothing Xander hated more than fighting with someone he loved. He just couldn't bear it.

"Sure, those stupid monks borrowed some Slayer essence which they imbued within Dawn," he continued, "but they didn't create her out of thin air. And who's to say that essence was taken from Buffy alone? What about Faith? What if it was taken from the entire Line? The fact is that Dawn is made of flesh and blood, Xander. Your blood. She's your daughter!"

"I know that," Xander hissed. "I know, I know, I know! But she's not, Sam. Joyce was her mother. Buffy is her sister. I'm...I'm just a donor, and an unwilling one at that. I never knew what those monks did. I never okayed it. What do I say when Dawn asks me how I feel about the fact that my DNA was stolen and used to create a child? What do I say when she asks me if I think of her as my daughter when I'm not even sure I do? What if she asks when I found out, how long I've known, why I told you and not her? What if she asks me who her mother, her biological mother, was?"

"You tell her the truth," Sam promptly replied. "I've heard the stories about what she was like as a teenager, but Dawn's not that little girl anymore, Xander. She's a grown woman. She's smart, she's accomplished, and she's not anyone's victim. Why do you underestimate her?"

Xander cocked a brow. "Why do you underestimate Dean?"

Sam raised a brow in kind. "Touché," he said, after a moment.

Xander leaned forward and touched his forehead to Sam's own. "That was a nice diversion, but I know you and you're afraid of something more than how our family will react to certain details we've kept from them. Tell me what it is."

"What if you have another heart attack?" Sam whispered.

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

"Don't joke. Not about that. I've never been more terrified in my life." Sam gritted his teeth. "You were dead, Xander. Your heart stopped. You had no pulse. And those people, your friends, the way they tried to push me aside..."

"And you didn't let them," Xander interrupted. "Never have I been so proud of someone. You pushed back, you did what you knew I'd want, and you told them to take their guilt and shove it. You were magnificent."

Against his will, Sam blushed. "I couldn't go through that again," he whispered. "I still have nightmares about it." He sighed. Even the thought of losing Xander was pure agony. "All I want is some peace."

Xander was silent for a long moment. "We're not in this life for peace, Sam," he said roughly. "None of us is. Not Slayer or hunter or witch or mortal." He paused. "I can't guarantee I won't have another heart attack any more than I can guarantee I won't be hit by a car tomorrow morning when I go out to the curb to get the newspaper. Life is risk, Sam. Getting out of bed every morning is a risk but what's the alternative? Living in a bubble?"

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Our love was a risk," Xander countered, "one which almost everyone we know told us wasn't worth taking. They were wrong. You leaving home to go to Stanford was a risk, but we wouldn't be here if you hadn't. For every risk, there's a reward. You just have to look for it. You have to fight for it."

"I'm so tired of fighting," Sam murmured. "Aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm exhausted," Xander cheerfully said. "You don't know how many times I've come close to giving up the ghost entirely." His eye turned distant. "I've lost so much of my family, Sam. I watched Buffy die twice. Jesse. Kendra. Joyce. Tara." He closed his eye, pain marring his face. "Anya," he whispered. His breath hitched. "Cordelia," he rasped.

And that's when Sam knew he had to back off, because nothing ever good happened when Xander remembered Cordelia. The subject of Anya was almost as painful, but not quite. Cordelia occupied a strange place in Xander's heart, one of extremes. They had hated and loved each other their entire lives.

Cordelia lived within him, even now. Especially now.

He and Xander hadn't been dating very long when Cordelia died. The scales over Sam's eyes had fallen at Xander's reaction.

Pain, such horrific and absolute pain.

It was as though part of Xander had died with her. His mourning was acute and graphic and terrifying. His anger, his rage, his guilt and sorrow: they had been raw, visceral things. They still were.

It had all been happenstance. He and Xander had gone to Disneyland on a lark and, after, Xander had decided to pop in on his childhood nemesis cum favorite ex-girlfriend. After visiting a bombed-out hotel, he had finally traced Cordelia to Wolfram & Hart.

He had been stunned as all hell that she would ever have set foot in that place. In fact, he had argued adamantly against it, saying she must have been coerced. In a manner of speaking, that was true.

He had stormed the law firm, ignored the screeching female vampire who had tried to hug him and pull his hair, and kicked down the door to Angel's office, demanding to see Cordelia.

Angel had stood and looked at him and Xander knew.

He had bellowed for Willow, who had appeared almost immediately, with Buffy and Giles in tow. After Sunnydale had fallen and though they had traveled down their separate paths, in a very fundamental way the Core Four was stronger than ever. They might have their fights and silences, hold their grudges, but when push came to shove, it had always been the four of them and always would be.

As Xander roared at Angel for failing to protect Cordelia, as Willow and Buffy screamed at the others for not even having the common decency to pick up a phone to let them know the woman had died, as Spike had rolled his eyes and Fred had sobbed, Sam's world had fallen apart in the space of five seconds.

Xander had suddenly turned white and then gray, before clutching his chest and falling over.

Willow had tried spells, not knowing - and she still didn't - that, after Kingman's Bluff, magic had no effect on Xander.

Buffy had been lost in memories, too afraid to try CPR, terrified she would injure him further, bleating that she couldn't lose him, not now and not ever.

Spike had wanted to make Xander a vampire and it was only after Fred held a stake to his throat that he gave up that idea. Buffy hadn't even registered that Spike was in the room. She didn't realize he was alive until months later.

Angel had merely stood there, silent, stalwart, and hopeless as he watched the only other person who had loved Cordelia as much he had die before him.

And then Sam had pushed them all out of the way and started chest compressions.

Xander had lived.

"It's coming," he whispered. "Whatever's out there. The First. The Devil. Whatever else there is. It's out there and it's coming for us."

Xander nodded. "It always has been, Sam," he said gently, "and do you know why? Because we're the only ones looking."

"So what do we do?"

"Try to live. Keep loving each other and our family. We do the best we can with the information and resources that we have. That's all we can do, Sam. That's all anyone can do."

"Prue..."

"Prue won't always be able to save me. I'm not immortal, Sam, and I don't want to be. There's a purpose to this life of mine and I have every intention of seeing it through to the final pages, but not everything is in my control. Death comes for all of us eventually. Humans, demons, witches, spirits. It can be interrupted, it can be delayed, but it can't be ignored forever."

"She's in love with you, you know," Sam said, somewhat savagely.

"I know. My days of feigned ignorance are long over." Xander shrugged. "And who knows? If I hadn't met you, I'd probably be with Prue now, but I am with you. I'm committed to you. Prue knows that, she accepts that, and she loves you, too, just as I know you love her."

Sam sighed. It was true; Prue was, in fact, his best friend. "I was stupid to think I could run from this."

"Not true," Xander said. "You could still run. If you wanted to, I would go with you."

"You would?"

"I'd do anything for you. I'd give up everything for you."

Sam shook his head. "I would never ask that of you."

Xander smiled. "I know. That's why you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You've never tried to change me, Sam. You've never tried to make me better than what I am. You've never put me down in a pathetic attempt to motivate me.

"You just...love me." He shook his head in awe before a beam overtook his face. "No one has ever loved me so purely, so completely, as you have. No one. And though I'll always hold Cordelia and Anya in my heart, that heart belongs to you."

"I'm glad you had them," Sam said softly. "Loving them is what allowed you to love me."

Xander gently caressed Sam's face. "Loving you is a privilege I probably don't deserve, but I give thanks every day to whatever's out there that might be listening, because life without you wouldn't be worth living.

"Don't worry so much, Sam. Just know that, whatever happens, we'll always be together."

"You really believe that?" Sam asked.

"I do. And I like it so much, I even put a ring on it."

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to throw Xander from him, only to snorfle when Xander instead snuggled down deep.

"But right now," Xander whispered, "there's something I need. Something only you can give me."

Sam's heart started thudding. "What?"

Xander leaned down, lips pressed against Sam's ear and curving into a smile. "You inside me."


Dean frowned and looked down the hall. "That a regular occurrence?" he asked the kids.

Connor stared at him. In fact, all Connor had done since first meeting Dean was stare.

Dawn nodded. "About twice a day."

Dean's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Twice a day?" He shook his head. "Damn."

She shrugged. "When you're as hot as they are, you shouldn't have to go without. So they don't."

Dean frowned. "You think your brother's hot?"

"Are you saying he's not?" she growled.

Dean decided he wanted no part of this. He turned to Connor.

"Dude, stop staring. I'm not an oil painting."

Connor said nothing as he continued not to blink.

Dean heaved a tremendous sigh. "What's with your brother here?" he demanded of Dawn.

"He's assessing you," she said simply.

"Assessing?"

"He's determining what, if any, threat you pose to Xander and, by extension, his marriage."

The duh went unvoiced but was evident in her tone.

"And what if I am a threat?" asked an amused Dean.

"I'll kill you," Connor said, voice steady.

A shocked Dean slowly turned to look at the boy.

He had no doubt Connor meant it.


"What will you do if they say no?" Quinn asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Go anyway. I've had about enough of this. They're my family and I have a right to know them. I'm not three years old anymore. I can take care of myself."

Santana glared. "You do understand that you won't be going alone?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"And what are you going to do about that?" she demanded, nodding her head toward the table across from theirs.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sam's allowed to have his own friends." He paused. "Even if they're just using him." He shrugged. "Besides, do you really think Sam doesn't know that? He's not dumb. He's playing them too."

Santana glowered at Finn and Mercedes, a couple that made no logical sense,but had been going strong for over a year now. They had tried, both individually and together, to infiltrate the Coven's circle for almost ten years.

The Coven had been a unit since that summer before first grade, inseparable and impenetrable. They had never meant to exclude anyone or cause hurt feelings, but the simple truth was that, with few exceptions, they neither required nor longed to add to their company. They had been complete as they were and would remain as such until their Fifth appeared.

But others had tried to approach, to steal a member away, to start an unnecessary rivalry.

Mercedes wanted Kurt. She didn't understand what he saw in Quinn and especially in Santana. She liked Brittany because everyone liked Brittany. She insisted she and Kurt had so much in common that they should be best friends, but everything they shared was superficial. Kurt was perfectly content to call her a friend but Mercedes wanted to be the only girl in his life.

Finn wanted Quinn back. They had been elementary school sweethearts until sixth grade when Finn demanded that Quinn make a choice. She did and he had no one but himself to blame, except he had blamed Kurt and Santana. He'd always been jealous of Kurt, who was admittedly more intelligent, and thought Santana was nothing but a bitch. Santana had happily agreed with both points, which had only angered Finn all the more.

And then there was...

"Hey, Duchess," Puck said, dropping into the open seat next to Kurt and slinging his arm around the other boy's shoulder.

Kurt turned and beamed. "Good afternoon, Noah. You look particularly Neanderthal today."

Puck's chest puffed with pride. A fresh mohawk, some ratty jeans, and a sleeveless tee meant that he was extra styling. He leaned over and kissed Kurt's cheek, smirking at the catcalls and grunting that erupted.

"I still think we should try dating, just to see what everyone would do," he whispered in Kurt's ear.

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed Puck away. "Oh, Noah, your need both to titillate and repel our peers is almost endearing, but I have no interest. I'm quite happy with my boyfriend, thank you."

Puck kept the smile on his face, though his eyes dimmed just a bit. He wasn't gay. He wasn't even bi. But there was a part of him that was in love with Kurt and always would be.

He knew his feelings were mixed up with fraternal love and hero worship, but knowing that didn't make it any easier to separate the threads of his feelings for Kurt.

Santana watched him from the corner of her eye.

Puck was...interesting. His relationship with Kurt even more so, especially since Puck was the only mortal who knew they were witches.


It had started not long after Aunt Suzanne had died. That summer, they had been inseparable. Not only the children, but their parents and guardians. Burt had grown very close to both Robert and Patrick, while Prue had fit in seamlessly with the other women. It was as though it had been predetermined, and perhaps it was. Perhaps it was the universe's way of acknowledging what was to come, allowing the children some measure of a childhood.

Then they had started first grade and their social circle had begun to expand in the form of acquaintances. Puck had already been singled out as the bad seed by their teacher and the majority of the class, but he hadn't cared. Neither had the Coven. They never interacted, but neither did they antagonize each other.

Kurt had become friends with Mike Chang that first day, and, after school, went home and told his father that he had just met the boy he would one day marry. Burt had laughed and patted Kurt on the head, but that laughter abruptly ceased when he realized Kurt wasn't joking. So he had smiled and told Kurt he wanted to meet his new friend, and then went racing to Prue to talk him down off the ledge.

She had reiterated Suzanne's arguments. Yes, Kurt was a boy. Yes, Kurt liked boys. Yes, other boys would like Kurt. Yes, Kurt would one day date a boy. Yes, Kurt would have sex with boys. Yes, Kurt would marry a boy.

Amused as she watched Burt breathe with the aid of a paper bag, she asked him why he was so honestly surprised. Burt had spewed forth logical arguments that Kurt was too young, didn't realize what marriage truly was, etc. Prue had calmed him down and reminded him they knew nothing about Mike Chang. Just because Kurt liked him in that way, didn't mean Mike felt the same. Then Burt grew hysterical at the thought of some little bastard breaking his precious son's heart.

Prue had merely grabbed a phone book, placed a call, and three hours later, the Chang family was sitting in the Hummel dining room enjoying a lovely meal. After, Kurt and Mike went off to play while Mary Chang helped Prue make coffee in the kitchen.

"My son came home from school today and told me he met a boy whom he now loves," Mary had said with no preamble.

Prue had regarded her with assessing eyes. "And what do you think about that?"

Mary had been silent for a long moment. "Michael was a gift," she had finally said. "I had been told I would never be able to conceive a child, let alone carry one to term. There was scar tissue. I had waited too long. George's sperm count was too low. We had given up hope and accepted this, for we had tried everything up to and including five rounds of in-vitro fertilization. Nothing."

She had begun opening cupboards, searching for mugs. "And then a miracle happened. I was pregnant. The pregnancy was an easy one. In fact, I didn't even realize I was pregnant until almost the fifth month. In a way, that was a blessing, because it prevented me from panicking, and endlessly wondering, and anticipating something awful. But everything was fine."

She had turned back to face Prue. "I had a child. More than that, I had a son. There is nothing like a mother's bond with her son." She had looked away. "A mother knows."

Prue had said nothing, had done nothing.

"I want his happiness," Mary had whispered. "That's all I want for him, because that's what he's given me."


And Mike was happy. He was happy with Kurt. Ten years later, he still was.

The fact that they were both witches was just gravy.

"Hey," Mike said quietly, slipping into the seat on Kurt's opposite side. He nodded at Puck, though warily. Puck grunted in reply.

"Hello," Kurt softly said, a gentle blush settling high upon his cheeks, as it always did when he was reunited with Mike, even after only a brief separation. "How was your Spanish class?"

Mike made a face. "Mr. Schuester is getting more and more paranoid about Coach Sylvester. Today's vocabulary lesson was about dictators and oppressive regimes." He shook his head. "How was Calculus?"

Kurt shrugged. "I got an A on the exam, but Brittany beat me and Artie. Again."

Mike smiled as Brittany's delighted giggle traveled down the table. His eyes then widened when he felt Kurt's hand on his knee, slowly rising up his leg.

"Don't tease," he whispered.

Kurt's blush turned fierce as he snatched his hand away. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," Mike rushed to say. "I want you to touch me. I want you touch me all the time!" He exhaled. "It's just that, when you do, I get, um ... "

Kurt dropped his head, a small smile on his face.

" ... and lunch will be over soon and I'll have to stand up," Mike babbled.

"I love you," Kurt interrupted.

Mike shut up as his eyes softened. "I love you, too."

"Fuckin' homos!" shouted Karofsky from across the cafeteria.

Kurt narrowed his eyes and suddenly the tray in Karofsky's hand went flying up toward his face. As everyone laughed at Karofsky, who now had mashed potatoes dripping from his cheeks, an eyeful of mashed carrots, and Sue Sylvester screaming in his ear, Quinn clucked her tongue.

"Personal gain," she hissed.

Kurt turned and regarded her with flat eyes. "It was worth it. Some animals only respond to negative reinforcement."

Her lips twitched and she nodded, smiling when Puck and Santana howled with laughter.

"Good one," Mike whispered, his lips on Kurt's ear. "You're dead sexy when you're being all Witchy Poo."

Kurt turned bright red.

Mike was amused that simple compliments affected Kurt so much, which was why he complimented his boyfriend as often as possible. Besides, it was the truth. Kurt was dead sexy.

Puck suddenly sat up straight and fluffed up his hair.

"The demon approacheth," Santana grunted.

Puck turned and glared. "Knock it off, bitch. Tina's only half-demon and she's awesome. By the way, set any sheds on fire lately?"

She sneered and flipped him off. Part of her really enjoyed the fact that Puck had absolutely no fear of her. He couldn't have cared less that she was one of the most powerful witches in the hemisphere. Then there was the other part of her that really hated him for that.

Regardless, he was right about one thing: Tina was pretty awesome, half-demon or no.


Puck, the boy who once had smelled like puppies, had been brought into their circle one rainy November afternoon. School had just ended for the day and all of the students had raced outside, donning their raincoats and opening their umbrellas, chattering about the upcoming weekend and the holiday break only two weeks away.

Kurt and Brittany had been talking about some book they had read while Quinn and Santana had been engaged in the endless *NSYNC versus the Backstreet Boys discussion. Puck had been just behind them, rolling his eyes and wanting to get home. He had forgotten his coat that morning. He pushed past them.

Little Grace Puckerman, only two, had been delighted when she looked up and laid eyes on her brother, her hero, and her only solace since their daddy had gone away. She looked up at her mother, who was talking with some other lady, and let go of her hand. Then she had toddled out into the street.

"Noah! Noah!"

Puck had looked up and grinned, but then everything turned into slow motion and there was a car and a scream and a squealing of tires...

And Kurt, without thinking, had raised his hand, levitating Grace with it. After the car had skidded and hit the curb, the hysterically sobbing driver had fallen out of her vehicle and been stunned to find the little girl she had almost hit standing in the middle of the road, perfectly fine.

It had all happened so fast, there had been so many people and so much commotion, that, thankfully, no one had seen what Kurt had done.

Except for Puck.

Puck had stared at Kurt in utter fascination. He hadn't known how, he hadn't known why, but he had been positively certain that this little boy, the one who was so much smaller than everyone except maybe Satan, the one that other kids whispered about and teachers fawned over, had saved his sister. His little sister, whom he loved more than life itself.

Santana had watched Puck watching Kurt and she had known even then that Kurt had just inadvertently collected a second shadow.

And that's what Puck became. He wanted to be everywhere Kurt was. If anyone said anything mean about Kurt, Puck clocked them without a second thought. Kurt had always said the gossip didn't bother him, but Puck knew that was a lie, that his friend had been hurt, and if he was in a position to hurt those who had hurt his friend, then he would take it.

Judy Fabray, who had been chatting with Gloria Puckerman that day, had known that damage control was necessary. She had made a great show of fawning over Gloria and Grace, insisting on driving them home. Once there, she had escaped into the bathroom and called for Prue, who had orbed in.

Once told of the situation, Prue had debated how it should be handled. In the end, curiosity won out and she had decided to go with the truth. If it failed, Memory Dust was always an option.

A shaken Gloria had paled even further when two women had emerged from her bathroom. As the children had gathered around Prue, Gloria Puckerman had a sinking feeling that her world was about to turn on its axis.

And it did.

Prue told her everything: who she was, who Kurt was, and who the girls were. A few examples of magic later, and Gloria was deep in thought.

In the end, her daughter was alive, and that was thanks only to the quick-thinking six-year-old boy in front of her. That was all that mattered.

Memory dust hadn't been necessary. Gloria and Puck had accepted everything at face value, too grateful to worry about possible ramifications. Grace had been too young to understand things, so she hadn't been told until much later.

In reality, it had worked out well for everyone. Kurt had made a mortal friend, Grace suddenly had another brother and a bunch of sisters, and Gloria had become part of a coterie of women who supported her, which was what she had needed most after her husband's abandonment.

And life went on.

Puck had accepted Quinn and Brittany easily enough, but had detested Santana, who felt much the same. Still, at the end of the day, they had each other's back when it truly counted. Puck was inoffensive enough when Artie had been added to Kurt's mortal coterie, especially because Artie didn't know Kurt was a witch. It was harder for him to reconcile Mike's role in Kurt's life and what it would one day mean. While they were still children, it wouldn't much matter, but when they got older, Mike would become more important, more essential.

Puck still felt that way sometimes, that he was in competition with Mike for Kurt's attention. He knew he was the only one who thought so; that Mike, in fact, had gone out of his way to make friends with him. Puck knew he was a selfish person. He wanted Kurt all to himself despite knowing he couldn't be everything Kurt needed. So he tried his hardest to be the best friend and heterosexual life partner.

Puck's devotion to Kurt, however, had created unforeseen problems, the primary of which was the unparalleled jealousy of Finn Hudson. Puck had been his best friend, but suddenly that had changed and all Puck wanted to do was hang out with the itty bitty bit of a thing who used big words and looked like a department store mannequin.

Before that, Finn had been a tangential part of Kurt's life in that Finn and Quinn were in the midst of a childhood romance. It had been easy enough to accept that Kurt was part of Quinn's life; Quinn had, after all, made sure he realized that would ever change, that Kurt and Brittany and Santana were everything to her. And that had been fine, because even though he hadn't had the vocabulary to explain it, he knew that Kurt could never feel about Quinn the way he did.

And the truth of the matter was that Finn had thought Kurt was really awesome. He would've liked to have been Kurt's friend, but he had never said so.

Kurt had always been nice to him. He had never talked down to him like a lot of other kids did. Plus, Puck had still looked out for him and they were still boys and stuff, and he had Quinn. So it was okay. But then Puck had become a traitor and suddenly Kurt had everything and it was just so unfair.

He had been so jealous. He had been jealous every time he saw Puck and Kurt holding hands, or Quinn and Kurt hugging, or Kurt running to his daddy when the man picked him up from school, or the really pretty lady who picked him up when the daddy to work. And, for some reason he had never been able to figure out, he was also jealous of Quinn and Puck ... for having Kurt.

It had made his head hurt a lot.


It still did.

Finn glared over at Kurt's table, sneering at Puck, who was whispering in Kurt's ear, who was laughing and resting his head on Mike's shoulder, who was looking at Kurt like he was everything, who was being watched by a creepily happy Santana...

It just went on and on.

Last year, he thought he'd finally been able to start over. He had started going steady with Mercedes Jones, who, while bossy, wasn't nearly as bossy as Rachel Berry, who he had dated in freshman year. Besides, Finn sometimes liked being bossed around. Plus, Mercedes didn't like Santana or Quinn, not after they had her thrown her off the Cheerios.

And, okay, Finn felt they might have been right to do so, because all Mercedes had done while part of the team was bitch about the number of practices and how cruel Coach Sylvester was and everything else. Finn didn't know a lot about cheerleading, but he did know about teamwork. Quinn and Santana often fought but they always united when it counted; Mercedes, for whatever reason, couldn't do that.

Finn thought she'd be a lot happier if she had a girlfriend who she could talk to about girl stuff, because he didn't really understand girl stuff. But Mercedes had always been kind of a guy's girl. She had been a tomboy when they were younger and more interested in playing football with the boys than taking ballet with Brittany and ... Kurt.

That was something else he didn't understand, why Mercedes was so obsessed with having Kurt for a friend. Sure, Kurt was nice to her, he was pretty much nice to everyone who didn't call him names, but he already had a best friend. Several of them. It wasn't that he was rejecting Mercedes; he just didn't have room for her in his life in that way.

Actually, Finn thought Kurt had always been kind to Mercedes about that. When he had parties, he always invited her, but then she would never go because the other girls would be there, the Cheerios would be there, someone she didn't like who didn't like her would be there. But Kurt still kept inviting her.

Mercedes was, for whatever reason, convinced that Kurt would be the only best friend she would ever need and vice versa, that Kurt wouldn't need the other girls if he just had her. He was gay, so he understood girl stuff, but he was still a guy, and she was only really comfortable with guys. Sometimes it made Finn really sad that Mercedes was so lonely, but, then again, she didn't try to do anything about it, and that wasn't Kurt's fault.

At the same time he had started dating Mercedes, a new kid had transferred in and Finn had thought Sam Evans was really cool. He had thought that just maybe he'd get a new best friend.

But no.

On Sam's second day, he and Finn were in the sophomore hall, their lockers relatively close together. They were talking about football and that Sam liked to sing and he might be interested in Glee, and then the doors had flown open and the Bitches of Eastwick had stormed inside.

Kurt was in the middle, as always. That day he was flanked by the Blond Bookends, Quinn and Brittany, while Santana brought up the rear. In fact, she had been noticeably ogling Kurt's rear and hadn't given a shit what anyone thought about it.

That day was also one of those in which they had coordinated outfits. Kurt and Brittany were wearing white Oxfords, Brittany's tied above the navel, and black leather pants. Quinn had a fitted white Oxford and a modest leather skirt with knee-high leather boots. Santana, of course, was wearing a shirt like Brittany's, paired with a leather miniskirt and hooker boots. They were all wearing the same Aviator sunglasses.

They had stalked down the hall like it was a runway, their gaits perfect in sync, their hips set on maximum sway.

Sam had turned around to stare and Finn wondered which of the girls he was considering. Brittany and Santana were together, of course, but they sometimes invited a guy to join them once and a while. Quinn had a steady boyfriend.

Halfway down the hall, a reshuffling occurred. Santana moved up front and walked next to Brittany; Quinn was joined by her boyfriend, Matt Rutherford; Puck inserted himself between Quinn and Kurt while Mike squeezed in between Kurt and Brittany.

Sam had made a disappointed squawk and Finn had been shocked to realize the other boy had been looking at Kurt.

"Forget it," he had snapped at Sam. "Kurt and Mike have been dating since first grade. No joke, either."

But then Brittany had suddenly come to halt. Immediately, so had the others. She had then pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head and smiled at Sam, who beamed back. She waved him over and, just like that, Sam was lost to him.

Kurt had won yet again.

Oh, sure, it had been Brittany who had taken Sam but Kurt had kept him. And it was pretty damn obvious to everyone that Sam was in love with Kurt. The kicker was that he was also in love with Mike. Everyone was taking bets on when the Unambiguously Gay Duo would become the Outrageously Gay Trio.


Finn sighed and looked down at his empty plate. Had he really eaten all the fries?

His feelings for Kurt had changed a lot since their parents started dating. He and Kurt didn't necessarily like each other, but they didn't hate each other. They could get along well enough as long as they weren't exposed to each other for too long a period of time. Both of them wanted their parents to be happy and Finn hadn't seen him mom this happy in years. Plus, Burt was a really cool guy.

Maybe he and Kurt could become friends, but he could never get Kurt alone. One of the girls was usually always with him. If they weren't, then Mike or Puck or Artie or Matt or some combination thereof was surrounding him.

Kurt and Artie had the geekiest bromance in the world because they were both so brainy, even though Kurt often kept his nerdaliciousness on the down-low. It had only intensified when Artie had begun dating Rachel this past year. They were a surprisingly good match, but often fought. When that happened, Kurt was, for whatever reason, drawn in the middle. He would listen to both sides and try to negotiate a peace. Artie was grateful and Rachel adoring. That Kurt couldn't stand Rachel made no difference to her.

Matt was usually around because he was Mike's best friend and Quinn's boyfriend, but Matt and Kurt were actual friends in their own rights. They both read a lot of books and liked talking about them; Brittany often joined them. In fact, Matt used more words with Kurt than with any other person. Of course, Mike and Matt had never really needed words, and Quinn and Matt had other uses for their mouths.

Speaking of Matt, Finn repressed the glare threatening to erupt when Matt slid into the seat next to Quinn and gently kissed her cheek. He still couldn't believe they were dating. He still couldn't believe her mom had allowed it. Although, Mrs. Fabray was actually pretty nice. She had mellowed out a lot and was much happier since the divorce. Quinn had often told him how happy she had been when they had left her father.

It was Quinn's father who was the racist. And the misogynist. And the homophobe.

Damn. Finn really hoped he wasn't the second coming of that asshole.

But he couldn't be racist, right? He was dating a black girl and he really loved Mercedes.

Misogynist? He sure hoped not, but Quinn had called him that more than once. He didn't know if Mercedes also thought it was true, but she usually would tell him flat out when he pissed her off or when he needed to shut up.

Homophobe?

He didn't want to be homophobic. He didn't think he was homophobic, but he wasn't sure. He wondered how he would have reacted if Kurt or Mike or Sam had ever developed a crush on him. He hoped he wouldn't have been a dick about it.

Then he wondered why gay guys didn't crush on him. Wasn't he hot enough? Mercedes thought he was hot. Quinn and Rachel had too. Was he not hot enough for guys? And why the hell was he even thinking about this?

His eyes narrowed at Puck, his ex-best friend. Puck was laughing and having fun with his girlfriend Tina and Kurt and Quinn and everyone else, even Santana.

Finn then realized that Mercedes and Sam were staring at him.

"Hi."

Sam sighed, stood up, and crossed the room to sit at Kurt's table. Finn flushed as he watched Mike slyly stroke Sam's arm.

Why did it bother him? Okay, he was still hurt that Sam hadn't been the new best friend for which he'd been hoping, but...

Mercedes watched him with appraising eyes. "You stare at them an awful lot," she said evenly.

Finn knew he had to play this carefully. "It's different now that Mom's dating Burt. I have to ... think more, especially before I say words. Kurt and his dad are super close and I don't want to piss off Kurt by accident and then Burt hears about it and decides to break up with Mom because he's mad at me." He shook his head. "She's really happy and she deserves to be."

Her eyes softened. "You're a lot smarter than you realize, baby."

He blushed for an entirely different reason.

No, he might not have the close friendships Kurt and Puck and the girls enjoyed, but he was happy. He loved Mercedes, he was the quarterback, he was passing his classes, and his mom had finally found a good man.

He just had to work on not being so jealous all the damn time and focus on remembering all of the good stuff he did have.


"Are you sure?" Tara Maclay whispered, anxiously looking around.

"Don't worry," Anya assured her. "We're safe, at least for the moment."

Tara quietly exhaled. "What about the others?"

Anya nodded. "Ready to offer their help as soon as they're asked."

Tara closed her eyes. "I can't believe this is happening."

Anya snorted. "Really? You understand balance, Tara. That was what always made you a superior witch to Willow, though she has more innate power."

Tara stared at her. "Do you really think we can win?"

Anya shrugged. "We've taken on a god before."

"And Buffy died."

Anya blinked. "True, but the world survived, which wouldn't have happened if Buffy hadn't been willing to sacrifice herself."

Tara cocked her head. "I've never heard you sing Buffy's praises before."

Anya soured. "I'm not. I'm just lauding her one unselfish choice. I always liked Dawn better, anyway. Besides, I'm still unsure just how unselfish that jump was. You know as well as I do that Buffy's always had a death wish."

Tara gave her a reproachful glare but neither did she deny the charge. Anya's words, while brutal, were not necessarily untrue.

"There's more Slayers now," Anya continued. "There are the Charmed Ones, the Pentad, and all the others from Brittany's prophecy."

"Including Xander?" Tara asked gently.

Anya merely blinked again. "You don't have to whisper his name as though we're in a church. I'm perfectly aware of his marriage and I even approve. Besides, we all thought he was just a bit gay."

She shrugged again. "He loved me, Tara. I never doubted that, only his ability to love himself. Because of Sam, he can do that now and that makes me happy. I have no reason to be angry at or jealous of Sam Winchester. Besides, I've been able to witness their frequent and vigorous intercourse, and that makes me happy too. It is well and truly spectacular. I taught him well."

Tara burst into laughter.

"We're going to be okay, Tara," she insisted. "All of us will be okay. When has Xander ever failed? And there is Kurt to consider, after all. He's pretty much Xander: The Sequel."

Tara nodded, though her anxiety was apparent.

Anya looked up. "The Queen doth approacheth," she said, smirking, "and if you think Cordelia Chase is about to put up with shit from anyone, god or otherwise, think again."