I'm terribly sleepy and this fic was written over night due to a bad case of insomnia. It cured it.
As always, this story is beta-less and unedited. I'll go over it a few times later in case i missed a few errors.
So this little story is very much turning into a PuckxKurt fic. I love the couple, love Mark Salling (in a non-stalkerish way) and admire Kurt Hummel. On unrelated news, I found out Mr. Salling works out near my house *squeal*
We finally find out why Kurt Hummel is back in Lima.
Warning: cursing, violence, offensive slurs
Unable to find a spare key stashed under a rock or window sill, Rachel did what she did best; force Puck to break into the house.
Partially stripped and yellowing, the hard wooden floors inside groaned as the pair swept through the kitchen and into the musty living room.
The stock stillness of the outdated furniture unnerved Puck, a piece of him aching for any movement to occur or sign that showed them that a vampire had taken up residency.
It found them.
"Rather poor sense of stealth for would-be thieves," said a voice nonchalantly. Puck could practically taste the hair product lingering in the air and awkwardness from the previous night's truck drive. The two spun towards the voice.
"Puck," Rachel said flatly," I believe we found your Moby. He's also rather pale ."
Kurt was leaning against the splintered wooden railing of the stairs, wearing a snug pair of black jeans and a grey Henley that revealed a smooth chest. A discreet smile ran across his lips. "Tranny guy? I thought I recognized that scent."
"Tranny? That vampire better be referring to your sub par truck, Puck. "
What the hell is wrong with my ride?
Puck lunged at him, wrapping one hand around Kurt's neck while the other pulled out a silver stake from his back pocket. Kurt's caught his wrist mid-strike, the stake in Puck's grip lingering over the vampire's chest.
"You're strong," Kurt said, the grip around his thin neck tightening.
"Wouldn't be much of a Slayer if I wasn't." Kurt could practically hear a smirk form on the Slayer's face. "And here I thought all the Watcher's were dead and only women could become Slayers," Kurt though out loud.
The comment earned a confused grunt from Puck.
"The council members are dead? But...how?" all the previously held aloofness abandoning Rachel's voice. That name sounds familiar.
"Bombed by the minions of the First Evil if you want specifics."
Kurt's hold on his wrist remained steady as Puck struggled to maintain momentum. The afternoon tea conversation springing up between Rachel and Kurt was not helping. " Your friend seems genuinely shocked Puck," the vampire observed, " Seriously, no one here knew about the Watcher's Council fate?" Puck's hand trembled, the strain beginning to burn his forearm. "How are you even aware that you're a Slayer?"
"Slayers. I found a book on a trip to Columbus with my dads," Rachel spoke up. "The Book of Vampyr." Puck had heard the story before.
Their normal lives ended the day when a town called Sunnydale gave away to a mile deep chasm beneath it, switching from humble town to a mass grave site between breaths . Television interviews with experts resulted in theories like Sunnydale being built above a long series of underground caves. Others claimed it was a gross miscalculation on behalf of the town's engineers, overlooking vital factors like building on the wrong type of soil.
Puck really didn't give a fuck.
That day, for a second, he and other members of the glee club were overwhelmed with an indescribable jolt of grief, memories, and silence. Puck saw a row of women, each somber and surprised as they stared back at him. Like most of the other guys in the club who went through the same experience, most of the memories faded while the emotions and random need for solidarity stayed.
The rest: Quinn, Rachel, Santana, and Mercedes, the first few steps in the journey to fight and make sense of their strange memories were taken.
The following day those affected discovered the strength to bend iron bars, brush off blunt force trauma like a bad case of bed hair, and heal extremely fast.
Quinn and the other girls made the unfortunate discovery of how many nightmares one person could have over the course of one night. Answer: enough to make one crave insomnia.
"So aside from a few basic facts and stories, neither of you know much about your heritage?" Kurt asked before mockingly rolling his eyes. "What is it with Jews always getting shafted?"
"Rachel, can we dust the bastard now? I'm not feeling too comfortable holding onto the anti-Semitic Dairy Queen."
A beat of silence followed Puck's question.
For both of them, Kurt was the first being in their limited time as Slayers who knew what was occurring in the supernatural world outside of Lima. It helped that he was easy to hold and chatty. Kurt sighed. "Try not to get ice cream in your eye then, you brute."
Wide eyed, Puck saw Kurt release his wrist and allow the thick stake to plunge through marble skin and into his chest. There was the familiar crunch of bone being shattered and a gasp from Rachel. "Puck, he's disarming-" For a brief second, Puck saw Kurt's fragile fist rushing toward his face.
Thwack.
His vision burst into blotches of neon purple as the prickly hardwood floor slammed onto his back. Biting his tongue, Puck shoved the urge to scream or cry into the bottomless pit in his stomach. There was no room for weakness in a fight.
He could hear Rachel shout and grunt a few feet away from him, followed by the sounds of metal scraping stone. Before Puck could fully regain his balance, he felt cold hands grab hold of his collar and fling him against Rachel's tiny figure. There was silence as she fell still under his weight.
"Rach?" he let out weakly. She was out cold. Anger shook him up, and Puck carefully rose to his feet. Either the vampire was strong enough to literally knock the sense out of Puck or magic was afoot. Kurt was sitting on an ugly mustard colored recliner at the far end of the living room, busily twining lose threads on his sleeve.
"I staked you," a floored Puck said. "Right now a Roomba should be able to kick you're pasty ass."
The faint outline of the stake's handle jutting out of Kurt's collarbone caught Puck's eye. He had missed the heart completely, was taken out by a single punch, and left empty handed. The vampire had taken a gamble and it had paid off handsomely.
"One doesn't manage to kill a Slayer or two without being a little reckless," Kurt replied. "Or cute. Which I'm both." He sat up and did a quick spin.
Few things in his life had caught Puck off-guard. Barack Obama. Getting Quinn pregnant. The weird boner he got whenever Coach Sylvester screamed at one of the Cheerios. Now he was determined to make sure that a weirdly attractive vampire wouldn't be one of them.
"You might be pretty but-" Puck broke into a charge, attempting to tackle Kurt and make a grab for the stake lodged in his collarbone. The vampire leaped out of the chair, barely skirting by Puck. He hit the recliner hard and clumsily crawled onto his feet again. Not my best day.
"The one behind me taking her nightly Jew sleep was a much better fighter," Kurt mused. Unable to come up with a reply, Puck stared at the now lose wooden floorboards scattered across the living room. He was trying to remember other methods of slaying a vampire without the use of silver or holy water. Sunlight was obviously out of the question.
"Don't worry though," he continued, "she'll wake up soon. Her pulse is beginning to quicken, a good quality in the living." There was no biting edge to his remark, only disarming concern. Glancing at Kurt, Puck saw his brow wrinkle while watching Rachel on the floor.
Turning to Puck, he said, "About the punch. I'm sorry."
Puck was going to remember Kurt. "What?"
"In truth, you were the one who started the stab happy routine with your Yahweh loving associate there-" Kurt pointed to the unconscious Rachel, "-and broke into my home."
"What? Since when do vampires own 'homes'?" Puck said while shamelessly using air quotes.
"We we're all human at one time or another Mr. Hacks-away."
"So you lived in Lima? When?"
For once, Kurt was speechless. "Well?"
"A gentlemen doesn't reveal his age."
Puck's arm felt charged and ready to throw a punch. "Dude, did you also turn into a woman when you became a vampire?" The insult earned Puck a swift kick to the shin.
A noiseless moment later Kurt said, "I was born in Lima...," the following words came out as if he had eaten offal, "in the 50's." Moving imaginary numbers around, Puck calculated that Kurt was somewhere in his early 60's. Maybe. Math was never his best subject.
"And what? Returned to raise a demonic army from the pieces of your shitty 50's furniture?" vampires bestowing Puck a fantastically negative view on life.
Kurt responded with a gentle laugh. It was awkward, cute and so very Quinn. I seriously need to stab this bastard. Again.
Calmly Kurt said, " No but I know a demon who will be trying to become a god."
It was Puck's turn to be struck speechless.
"And this," Kurt smoothly pulled out the lodged stake," is nothing." The wound instantly sealed itself.
Reviews are delicious and good for the soul. Also it's the only way I'll know if I should continue the story. I'm fickle. Sue Me.
Once again I am sleepy. And did a few corrections.
As a heads up, I don't plan on keeping the story any longer than 10 to 15 thousand words.