A/N: Just a reminder that this story will evantually contain mature content and dark themes. It has been rated M for a reason.

~d.f.l.


It had become common knowledge in the past year throughout the state of Ohio, that school boards were cutting programs and budgets left, right and center. Anything to do with the arts was being practically eliminated Barely any public school in the state had a board funded arts program anymore, complaints and outrage were far and in-between, yet the board officials, claimed that despite the outcries of the public, a precarious incident; that would remain nameless, prevented them from funding the arts.

Blaine knew it would only be a matter of time before Dalton Academy followed in the footsteps of the public schools, diminishing the few art programs they had, or even cutting all non athletic extracurricular programs. Even though the idea of Dalton shutting down was slim; the amounts of alumni donations were ridiculously high and no resident of Westerville with enough money would ever consider sending their child to "common school". Yet, the Board of Trustees, still desperate to save money, but not cause an uproar of angry parents, had decided to merge Westerville's single sex private schools. Dalton Academy and Crawford Country Day would continue to operate independently, but share the same campus.

Upon this discovery at the final school assembly of the year, the boys of Dalton Academy had celebrated in sheet delight. Hoots, cheers and lewd remarks had been heard throughout campus of the impending arrival of the ladies next fall. But Blaine had not been able to marvel at the idea of female company during his school days. He had been too occupied in reeling about the almost inevitable disbanding of the Warblers.

The Warbler council called their last meeting of the year to order after the assembly and quickly laid down the news to the choir. The three seniors at the head table had explained that after much disappointment of loosing Sectionals yet again in the past competition season, and the graduation of nearly half the group; the Warblers' legacy would be thinning to nothingness. Blaine had felt the ground nearly fall from underneath him as the council bore the news. As much as he loved Dalton, and playing lacrosse; music, performing, the Warblers was what he lived for. The feeling of being on a stage, singing his heart out was glorious, every unwanted feeling bursting and projecting from his veins. He needed it. And there was no way in hell that the Warblers would be over, not if Blaine Anderson had anything to say about it.

Immediately after the meeting, Blaine along with his best friends; Jeff and Nick, who, like Blaine needed the Warblers far more than any sports teams they played for had marched straight into Headmistress Archibald's office. All feelings of pride aside, the three boys had practically grovelled on their hands and knees for the Warblers to be given another year. With a reluctant sigh, Ms. Archibald, told them, yes they could be given another year, but the Warblers had to at the very least place at the regional level, and their set list had to be approved by herself and the Board of Trustees, they would no longer be able to perform inappropriate material. She had said this staring pointedly at Blaine, who blushed at the memory of breaking out into Rod Stewart's Do Ya Think I'm Sexy at Alumni Dinner that past spring.

The entire first month of summer, Blaine, Jeff and Nick had tried desperately to come up with ways to save the Warblers, but most of their "meetings" usually resulted in a jam session in Blaine's backyard or Nick's bedroom. And the days they actually discussed the subject, the new rule of a mandatory duet brought them down. Yet on one particularly sticky afternoon, the three friends had just finished rocking out to Katy Perry's new song in and Jeff had started talking about the prospect of getting a steady girlfriend that went actually went to his school, that the solution hit Blaine square in the nose.

The Warblers needed girls! Girls to sing duets with. Girls that would be going to their school! Blaine had begun grinning like a mad man and gripping the side of his untamed curls and rapidly telling his friends about his idea. Jeff and Nick both agreed immediately, chiming in their own ideas, and together formulating what they thought was their epic plot to revolutionize show choir as it was known! They were going to ditch the bird name and the do oping, get some girlfriends – that girlfriends being mostly Jeff and Nick's idea – and take Nationals by storm.


Blaine could only smile to himself on the drive home from the country club, bright green eyes and a show stopping smile fleeting through his smile. Quinn Fabray. He loved the way her name – which he had learned through careful eavesdropping - so easily rolled off his lips. Quinn, Quinn, Quinn. Yet, it wasn't just her remarkable golden beauty that had Blaine reeling. Her voice. God, her voice. Soft, sweet, delicate. Yes, she lacked the richness of an alto, and the shrill range of a soprano, but that didn't matter, she didn't need it. She had confidence, she had presence, and damn it she could light up an entire room just with the glimpse of a smile in her eye and make Blaine Anderson look twice at a girl. If she could sell the song and sell the arrangement, that's all that matter.

As soon as he arrived home and escaped his mother's pestering, Blaine holed himself up in his room and began to search his trusty friend the internet for information about the mysterious angel girl; Quinn Fabray.

He didn't find out as much as he wanted to, much to his sheer disappointment. Her heavily private facebook profile that he had found through a friend of a friend of a friend only displayed that Quinn Fabray was currently a student Crawford Country Day and that prior to that attended a ballet school somewhere in West Virginia. The only picture Blaine could view of Quinn was clearly a motion shoot during a ballet performance, her arms gracefully placed, and her feet in those crazy toe shoes. Blaine didn't know a whole lot about ballet, but God did he ever appreciate it. He and his mother went out to the theatre whenever she was home, which as he had grown older, had become rarer.


Sunday dinners, a tradition, that much to Blaine's dismay that had not become rarer, but in turn grown more awkward over the years. Unless someone was joining them, the three of them; Kevin, Maria and Blaine sat in silence at the dining room table, the only noises were the scraping of cutlery against ceramic. Tonight, however was different. Kevin Anderson was, for the first time Blaine had seen his father do in years, speaking animatedly to his wife. Blaine listened to his parents as he sat down at the table, not even noticing he was late. They were discussing something to do with his father's company.

The Anderson family, descendants of a unit of the Irish mafia owned a highly successfully pharmaceuticals firm. Blaine's father ran the branch that was situated in the Midwest, constantly traveling back and forth between Ohio, Illinois and Missouri. It wasn't until his father dropped the name Fabray, did Blaine start to pay close attention.

"I should have hired Russell Fabray sooner, he's probably the best thing that's ever happened to the firm,"

"And Judy is simply wonderful, most agreeable woman I've ever met," Maria chimed in. "Their Quinn is quite the crowd pleaser, don't you agree Blaine,"

Blaine nodded, trying not to smile at the memory of beautiful angelic Quinn.

"I hear she's very much accomplished. She was one of the principle dancers at that ballet school she went to in Charleston, and they even cast her in the spring ballet at Crawford. We'll have to catch their next show this year darling,"

"Yes, of course mother," Blaine replied distantly, his thoughts transfixed on the thought of Quinn gracefully twirling about on a stage, looking like an angel.


As soon as dinner had finished, Blaine settled himself into his room and sat down at his keyboard. It wasn't nearly as good as the baby grand in the drawing room, but it had a decent sound at the right settings and Blaine preferred to keep his song writing to himself. It was still fairly new to him, although his notebook was running out of pages and he had three binders full of sheet music, covered in scribbled chords and phrases.

Blaine winced as his blistered fingers – thanks to the guitar Jeff had made him take up that summer – ran over the black and white keys. Despite the sting, Blaine closed his eyes and began to play a simple melody, the few chords he began with drifted delicately into phrases.

Why can't you see

What you're doing to me

He sang the first words that came to mind softly under his breath, emerald eyes dancing through his mind, imagining running his hand through soft blonde hair. A pure golden face.

I'm under her spell

Everything is falling

But I don't know where to land

Everyone knows who she is

But she don't know who I am


Laying in his bed, and sees her in the world of his imagination. The sun beating down on her beautiful face, golden hair fanned out in a green grassy field. Eyes sparkling like emeralds in the light. Blaine hopes that he will dream of the sun tonight, of green fields and Quinn, laughing and smiling under the burning sun, golden hair blowing in the warm August breeze. Blaine whispers her name as he closes his eyes, her face in his mind.

But the sun sets in his mind and the sky darkens. The moon's crepuscular light shines down on a lithe body, smooth creamy white skin rubbing against him, long delicate fingers running through Blaine's untamed curls. Soft breathy moans echo in the poignant silence and haunted, expressive blue eyes, clear as crystals illuminated intently in the moonlight.