Twenty-one: Unicorn
A/N: Artistic license; I don't think Unicorns actually take the wound into themselves, but it's kind of cool that way.

He just wanted to help. The girl was bleeding, he was just going to make it stop, to heal her. Vacant blue eyes stared at him out of a rapidly paling face. Her blonde hair spread about her head, stained red and Kurt's heart twisted at the thought of leaving her there to die. Another girl, darker than the other, rocked back and forth not five feet away, sobbing and yelling, pleading for Brittany not to go.

No, Kurt couldn't leave them.

He was able to heal her, touching the tip of his horn to the gaping wound in her abdomen and letting the magic flow from him into her. The lesion knitted itself back together and Kurt felt a brief shock of agony rip through him, silver blood spotting the ground before his own abilities stitched the skin together. The girl would be left with nothing but a hazy memory. Kurt would be left with a long jagged scar across his belly. He didn't mind.

But really, he had only been helping.

Despite what people must have thought about his kind, they knew what humans did to them. Select few chose to remain hidden from human eyes, but for most unicorns the instinctive need assist, to take them from harm, was too strong to be ignored. He wasn't stupid enough to think that it might never happen to him either; humans were unstable creatures, after all. Dangerous.

It still surprised him when they swarmed out of the bushes like insects, throwing ropes over his thrashing body and securing him to the ground. To be fair, the darker girl tried to help when she came to her senses, but they threw her away, knocking her out with a quick blow to the temple. And by then it was too late anyway. One man was sawing off his horn with a serrated blade, ignoring his frantic whinnying while the others withdrew their own knives and methodically placed cuts over his body, draining as much blood as possible into stoppered decanters.

Kurt wondered hazily if they would feed his liver to an ailing person like the humans in Noah's stories did. His mate was well travelled and during the season they enjoyed swapping stories of the going-ons in their territories. Unlike Kurt, Puck lived in a heavy traffic area so his tales were far more interesting than Kurt's forest fables.

As they dragged the knife across his neck, he hoped Noah was safe. Then, everything was black.

Thirty-one: Unicorn, Take Two
A/N: Okay, so originally this was the very last drabble, and it was written because the first one was depressing and I keep killing/hurting Kurt (it's only because I love him, honest). I needed to give them a happy ending (in all the ways). Enjoy~

Puck found out about the attack through the grapevine. He knew the area, knew it almost as intimately as he knew his own, but he refused to believe until he saw proof with his own eyes. That proof came three months later, during the mating season when they were supposed to meet half way between their territories before continuing back to Puck's. When Kurt didn't show on time (he was punctual to a fault and chewed Puck out for being late) Puck got worried. When he didn't show after a day, Puck had accepted the rumours as truths. He survived a year, drifting through routine and wandering about in the open, much less discreet than usual, almost hoping to meet the same fate as Kurt.

When he didn't, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He really had no idea where their kind went after death, or it their was a communal heaven or something as some humans believed, or if they even really had souls, but he would take his chances.

The magic only took a day to work.

Puck stumbled into the nearest village, wearing only a pair of baggy trousers he'd found years ago and kept despite Kurt's obvious distaste (actually, in spite; Puck did so love to tease him) and found his way to a mirror to observe the change. He didn't look overly different from the humanoid form that his kind sometimes assumed, lacking the long ears, tail, and horn, but even still, he barely recognized himself. The aura of magic, the heat in his blood, was gone, leaving him shivering. He was human, and he would die quickly, for better or for worse through sickness or old age.

Anything was better than suffering immortality without his mate.

It took another three years of joyless living before the sickness caught him. He laid, body wasting away, victim of a plague as many others were. He last a week, dragging himself into the woods, to die in his true home. The creatures there gave him a wide berth, sensing danger, smelling the illness on him.

Puck died with a smile on his face.

When he woke again, it was to hands stroking his cheek. He was still in the forest, and for a moment he thought it had all been a dream, that he had somehow managed to sink so deep into depression that he had hallucinated everything. But then he saw those pale, shifting eyes and he knew. Kurt's ears flicked up and a wide smile spread over his face. Puck grinned back and grabbed him, pulling Kurt down on top of him and revelling in the overwhelming sense of home that swept through him.

"I've missed you," he whispered, nuzzling Kurt's neck and touching everywhere his hands could reach. Kurt kissed his ear.

"I never left you." He pulled back and smiled teasingly. His horn was a nub, filed smooth from where the hunters had taken it and wow would that ever make things easier for them. "I have to say though Noah, I like you better as yourself."

"What, the human thing doesn't do it for ya? And here I was thinking we could try something new."

"Well, the need for creativity during sex will be lessened considerably," Kurt replied, toying with the nipple ring Puck had gotten one night while drunk, tugging the metal ring and listening to the groan. Puck grabbed Kurt's hips and rolled them.

"Babe, you read my mind every time."