A/N: As Always, thanks for the reviews and favorites:) I think this story will be exactly twelve or thirteen parts, but I'm finally wrapping it up!

Part Nine

Tall, dark windows greeted Blaine Anderson as he walked down the paved driveway. Rain clouds hung overhead and threatened flash floods. A cool breeze swayed the green Mesquite trees and thick underbrush protruding from the dry sand. Green colored the desert landscape. Recent rain had left its vibrant mark in Sedona. The moonless night obscured the towering red rocks lining the steep foothills.

The large adobe styled mansion looked deserted. Blaine clutched the slip of paper in his hands and read the address for the tenth time in an hour. Six Nine One Four. He had scribbled down the numbers less than three hours ago. The only instructions Wes had given him two days ago were simple: meet us in Sedona.

Blaine had debated his options and had considered calling the police, but in the end decided it was too risky. Wes had been on edge two days ago. An entire police department descending upon him might end badly for everyone. For the last forty-eight hours Kurt's angry and scared voice echoed in his mind while guilt chipped away at his soul. If he had told someone about Wes—anyone—then none of this would have happened. Blaine had planned to break things off with the older boy once winter break had ended; even though he could wind up back at Bollman Preparatory if Wes decided to make a fuss about it. He blanched at the mere thought of returning to Chicago, but he knew he had to put a stop to Wes' abuse. His sanity depended on it.

The house remained dark as Blaine rang the doorbell. It echoed through the foyer. He had no idea who actually owned the place. Wes had never mentioned anything about a vacation home in Sedona. The garage door rumbled open.

"I see you managed to make out here all right," Wes greeted coolly. "Why don't you come inside? I don't want the neighbors to see us."

The garage door closed as soon as Blaine walked under it. Wes stepped closer and eyed him for a long, tense moment. Kurt was somewhere inside that house. Blaine needed to get him to safety. Burt Hummel's firm and irritated reprimand stuck to him like glue. You don't deserve someone as good as Kurt, kid-I know you aren't sleeping together, but you still gave my kid some really terrible advice. Let's face it—he wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for you. Mr. Hummel's cold tone had stung, but he had been right.

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine shivered as Wes' hands gripped his shoulders.

"Inside," Wes said dismissively, "where we should be."

Blaine cringed as Wes tightly gripped his hand, but he didn't protest. An uncomfortable knot of fear had settled in his stomach exactly four days ago when Finn Hudson had called and screamed at him from St. Rita's emergency room. You should hear what some of the students at Dalton say about you. Puck told me that he's been cleaning pools up there for a while. He said the Warblers were the most popular kids at your school, and that you were sleeping with that guy that's in charge of your stupid council for solos.

The accusations hurt more than any bullying he had suffered from at Bollman Prep. Blaine had dated Wes because he was affectionate and nice. Popularity or solos didn't matter, not after everything he had been through at his last school. The only things he'd wanted after leaving Bollman were anonymity and safety. Wes had dragged him out of his shell by force and insisted he'd have so much more if he toned down his looks and learned how to make the uniform (and crowd) work for him.

"I'm happy to see you." Wes smiled as they walked into a sparsely decorated kitchen. "I'm not sure how I feel about all those curls, though."

Wes pushed him against the marble counter and kissed his neck. Blaine hated the way his body reacted to the warm, familiar touch even though his mind screamed in a furious rage. The soft hands felt different somehow. He flinched when Wes ripped the collar of his t-shirt and sucked on his collarbone.

"Back to the band shirts?" Wes criticized. "You look better in knit tops. I had no idea you let yourself go this much on break."

Apprehension seized Blaine as Wes' pressed his fingers into one of the bruises on his stomach. It amazed him how fast those soft hands turned hard and mean in seconds. Blaine forgot to change when he left the house. His grandfather had been moved into a nursing home due to the vicious progression of Parkinson's disease and his grandmother spent long hours there. A For Sale sign hung from their large estate. She would move to a smaller apartment closer to the nursing home so she could be with her husband. Blaine hated losing the house he had spent so much time in as a child, but he had known for a long time that his grandfather's condition would worsen.

The only child his grandparents had was locked away in a private hospital and their grandson was too young and lived too far away to help take care of them. Herbert Anderson hated his in-laws. He would never let his oldest son transfer into a public school so he could help his grandparents. Blaine couldn't talk him into it: he didn't even have his father's personal cell phone number. If he wanted to speak to him, he had to call his secretary and leave a message, or fly to Chicago and make an appointment. The last time he'd shown up unannounced and miserable due to the harassment at Bollman, he had waited three days before his dad had finally showed up.

"Say something," Wes demanded, "You're usually more talkative than this."

"I-I want to make sure Kurt's okay." Blaine winced as Wes' grip tightened again. "I promised his Dad that I would, if I happened to hear from him."

The confession seemed to anger Wes. Blaine knew he shouldn't have said it so bluntly, but he was too nervous and scared to create a believable lie. If Wes could shoot his close friend and walk away from it, he could certainly do the same to Kurt. Scott Lee had gone through six hours of surgery and lived, but he faced a long recovery and probable complications according to the doctors. At least, that's what David had told him. The Lee's were well known throughout Western Ohio's Korean community.

"Downstairs," Wes finally said, "I'll take you down there so you can see him."

Blaine's knees wobbled as he followed Wes down the stairs. Some of the tiled stairs were chipped, but expensive southwestern art décor adorned the stucco walls. Plastic covers and sheets covered every piece of electrical equipment and all of the furniture.

"Who's house is this?" Blaine asked once they reached the basement.

"It belongs to Zhang family," Wes informed him, "they used to live out here during the Ohio winters, but they stopped using it when their youngest son drowned in the pool out back."

"I remember hearing about it," Blaine said awkwardly, "when it happened a few years ago."

"It was sad," Wes said morosely, "but they still won't sell it since it's been in their family for four decades."

"I don't think we should be here," Blaine whispered, "it's not right."

"I knew no one would look for us here," Wes frowned, "besides, it's not like I'm planning on squatting here or anything. We're just using it for a few nights until everything's ready. Then we'll be out of here, and no one will know we were even here."

"W—where are you going?" Blaine held his breath as Wes opened a bedroom door.

"You and I, Blaine," Wes corrected, "we're going to Canada."

The last word seemed to bounce off the pink walls. He wants me to go to Canada with him. Blaine paused at the door and fought tears when Wes turned on the light. Blue walls glared under the bright light and a large gecko hung over the large king sized bed. Kurt Hummel slept through their entrance. The younger boy wore black track pants and a plain gray t-shirt. A dark bruise puffed his cheek. Blaine stared at him for a long moment. Kurt's chest rose and fell in a deep, muted rhythm.

"Kurt?"

Blaine waited for a response, but none came.

"He won't be waking up anytime soon," Wes said coldly, "sleeping pills."

"Y—you have to stop this," Blaine pleaded; unable to keep the tears from his eyes, "Wes-please just let Kurt go home."

"No," Wes replied, "Not yet. You know I didn't start this. Scott and Desmond were going to set me up. I think that if I let Kurt go right now, you wouldn't want to go to Canada with me. I know you're a coward. You wouldn't even fly to Chicago and ask your dad to transfer schools until I talked you into it because you were afraid to confront him."

The truth stung, but it wasn't the first time Wes had laid it out for him. Fear and uncertainty always seemed to be with Blaine. He wished he were brave and strong like Kurt. His friend had faced much more than hate speech, cruel practical jokes, and shunning. Kurt had suffered through much worse bullying and survived it with his head held until someone ushered a death threat.

"I-I wouldn't want to go to Canada with you anyways," Blaine announced with false bravado, "I can't run away again, Wes. I did that once—and it didn't solve anything."

Wes crowded him and tugged on his shirt.

"I love you, Blaine," Wes declared, "I know you'll come around and see things my way. You always do."

Blaine let out a cry of pain as slender fingers pulled on his hair. Wet lips trailed down his neck and found his collarbone once again. Teeth nipped at his skin. Blaine sucked in an indignant breath.

"Let's go into the other bedroom down here and see what we can do about your hair," Wes said between rough kisses, "and maybe we can find something a little more classy for you to wear. I swear you have the fashion sense of a lemming."

I hate you. The words never left Blaine's mouth. For a long time, Wes had been the only boy in his orbit. The Korean community was a mixed bag when it came to being gay. Some were more accepting than others, though it was largely a taboo subject. Blaine's grandparents accepted his sexuality, but his grandmother was not religious and his grandfather had lost what little faith he had after the Korean War. Wes' parents were extremely traditional. While his mother was a pretty, blonde haired white woman, she followed Korean customs and obeyed her husband to a fault. Blaine's father was white and pursued a mixture of two cultures when he married his mother.

The Andersons and the Kims had been friends for many years. Wes had still maintained their friendship even after Blaine was forced out of the closet by his old friends at Bollman. The older boy never showed any romantic interest until Blaine transferred to Dalton Academy. Their relationship started during a night out in Westerville and had continued ever since. Blaine wished he wouldn't have let Wes have so much control over everything.

I let him pressure me into giving him a blowjob on our second date. Wes had ignored Blaine's reservations and virginal naiveté, but at least he'd returned the favor and offered him a hand job. That night had set the tone of their relationship. They didn't go all the way, but they did everything else before they spent the weekend together during summer break. Blaine did whatever Wes wanted. Usually, Wes ensured his boyfriend enjoyed their sexual activities. Even their romantic weekend in Cleveland had been Wes' idea. Blaine had not been nervous about having sex at that point, but he regretted it now. Wes had been gentle and considerate in their hotel room. He had lied to his grandparents and told them he was going to Lake Havasu for the weekend with some kids he knew in Tucson, and they had believed him. Wes had claimed he was staying with David in Columbus.

In retrospect, it wasn't exactly an equal relationship, but Blaine had been determined to make it work. I loved him, then. Kurt Hummel had waltzed into his life wearing an incredibly flamboyant outfit and changed everything. When they went to see Rent at the community theatre, Blaine had finally realized what he was missing out on, and their instant connection left him wanting more from a relationship.

"Kurt will sleep like a baby," Wes shrugged as he led him down the hall and into another room. "I think we should enjoy our night together, don't you?"

Blaine bit his lip and followed Wes into a larger bedroom. The walls were a nice shade of purple, and a sun hung on the wall instead of a gecko. Wes disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. Blaine cried silently on the bed and realized he was in no position to fight with the older boy tonight. Kurt couldn't even stand up at this point, let alone run long distance if he got the chance. Blaine couldn't carry him. Kurt might be awake in a few hours. Maybe he could distract Wes long enough so the other boy could escape from the house and seek help from the neighbors.

"Here," Wes said and tossed a bottle of hair gel onto the bed, "I managed to find some gel for you. I'll see what I can find in the closet. The Zhang's left a lot of their stuff here when they left. I bet Mr. Zhang left some high quality clothes behind."

Colorful tile lined the bathroom walls. Blaine's hands shook and he had to use the counter for support, but he managed to slowly apply the gel into his hair. Eventually the unruly curls slicked back into a poised coif. Wes hollered for him before he had the chance to use the toilet. Blaine stumbled out of the bathroom and stared at the blue collared shirt lying on the bed.

"See, no problem," Wes smiled, "I think you should put it on. Then we can watch a movie. There aren't many choices, but there are a ton of old VHS tapes upstairs."

Blaine nodded and dressed without comment. Wes kissed his neck again as they started to leave the room.

"Much better," he beamed, "I don't like it when you look so scruffy. It makes you look like a hobbit."

"I know," Blaine muttered unhappily, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Wes said and led him back up the stairs. "Everyone forgets these things sometimes. I don't mind reminding you every now and then."