Author Notes: Thank you to each and everyone of my reviewers:). I also appreciated all of the favorites and story alerts. Here's the next part.

Sorry for the wait, guys!

The ugly slur painted on a visitor's vehicle caused quite a stir at McKinley. Students milling about the courtyard heard Cristina Lopez hollering angry swears in Spanish at the top of her lungs, hurrying out to the parking lot so they could see what had set the Latina off. Blaine cringed, suddenly realizing what it meant to be standing there with her. The slur could only be aimed at him. It made him a target.

Breathing became harder. Blaine sank down onto the cold asphalt, not caring he'd stain his pants or that people were starting to stare at him. Cristina swore loudly in Spanish and crouched down to help him up. "Come on, Blaine. I will take you home. I am going to make sure that your father, Principal Figgins, and the school board hear about this."

A small sob escaped from his quivering lips. Blaine couldn't go through this again, he just couldn't. "I want to go back to Dalton."
"You can't." Cristina ran a hand through his hair, gently guiding him into the SUV. "I'm sorry, but you have to stay here."
"Don't worry, Blaine." Nick appeared in the back seat, concerned. "It's alright."
Cristina hugged him tightly, soothingly rubbing his shaking back. "I will take you home."
"I'm sorry." Blaine whispered to her softly. "For being late. I'll try to be better about it."

Cristina's perfect brown eyebrow arched. "Late for what? Never mind, it's not important."
Blaine leaned against the window, curling into Nick's embrace. They arrived at the house less than fifteen minutes later. The engine shut off with a loud whine, announcing their presence. Grayson came out of the house. Selena smiled at them, faltering when she saw Blaine's tear stained cheeks and her mother's thin frown.

"What's wrong?" Selena hugged Cristina warmly. "What happened?"
"There was an incident." Cristina informed them. "We went by the school to pick up Blaine's schedule."

Grayson and Selena listened to the older woman's tale, staring at Blaine still sitting in the backseat. "I think I could use a nap."
The three adults didn't stop him as he frantically opened the door, nearly falling onto the icy sidewalk in his haste. They watched with sad and worried eyes, willingly letting him have his space because they could never to relate to his pain. He ran to his room and instantly pulled the blanket over his head.

"I can't do this again." He sobbed to the ghosts milling about his room. "I can't."
"It's okay." David sat beside him. "You'll be fine. We'll be there on Monday."
"Where's Wes?" Blaine really only felt protected and safe when the Asian ghost was around, though he'd never admit it to the others. "Why isn't he here?"
"He's busy." David's dark eyes shifted slightly, avoiding his gaze. "He'll be back later."

Blaine knew something was wrong, something the other ghosts weren't telling him. "Tell me why you want me to go to my grandmother's house. Please."
David hesitated. "Blaine, I think you ought to lay down. Maybe take a nap."
"Tell me!" He yanked the blanket off his head, staring at the black ghost. "Tell me!"
"Calm down." Nick walked into the room, joining David on the bed. "You'll be fine, I promise."
"Leave me alone!" He hissed at them, frustrated and upset. "Just go!"

Standing, David patted his knee. "We'll be there to protect you."
Blaine glared. "You couldn't protect me today, could you?"

None of the Warblers responded to his anger, choosing instead to vanish from his eyes. They always ran away whenever he lashed out at them. The radio suddenly flared to life, classical music filling the room. It was David's doing. Blaine knew it was his way of reassuring him.

Flopping down onto the bed, he shook with tears. Loneliness and fear plagued him as he hid under the covers. Sleep started pulling him down into its clutches, his body unable to fight it any longer. The bedroom walls blurred and spun until he found himself standing in a locker room. Chapped lips crushed his lips. Startled, Blaine shrank against the lockers.

A door swung open. Someone gasped. "What the hell?"
Frantically spinning around, Karofsky lunged for the tall blond boy gaping by the door.
The cheap red metal rattled as their bodies collided. "Evans!"

"Stop!" Blaine leaped into the fray, trying to pry Dave away from Sam Evans. "Stop, let him go!"
Dave instinctively flung his arm back, accidentally hitting Blaine in the eye. Pain exploded behind his cheekbone. Sinking to the floor, he teared up and clutched at his face. "You hit me."
"Get off, Karofsky!" Sam angrily shoved him away. "Oh Jesus. You're bleeding."
"I think my nose is broken." Blaine whimpered, reeling in pain as Sam tried to assess his injury. "It hurts."
Dave glowered, towering over the pair. "Get out of here, Evans."

Sam returned the glare. "No way. I'm not leaving him."
"You hit me." Blaine's shock prevented him from seeing the other three boys step into the locker room. "You kissed me."
"What?" A heavy set black teen stared at the three boys in disbelief. "What's going on?"

Panic flared in Dave's dark eyes. "Evans kissed Hummel. They were going at it, in public!"
"Gross." A brunette boy sporting a mullet grimaced. "Fags."
Sam crowded Blaine, trying to shield him from the approaching bullies. "Back off. Come on, he didn't do anything."

The fact that Sam wasn't even attempting to defend his sexuality touched Blaine. No one should have to suffer because of him. "Leave us alone."
"Oh, hell no!" The black boy moved forward, violently pulling Sam away from Blaine. "We've got a sneaky gay on our team."
"Evans caught the gay." Karofsky crunched his knuckles. "I say it's time to take out the trash. What do you say, Azimio?"
"Sounds like a plan." Azimio grinned darkly. "There's trash everywhere."

Lockers abruptly changed, spinning into white hospital walls. A freakishly tall brunette teenager lay in a narrow bed. The thick cast wrapped around his left leg had a plethora of signatures. Blaine stood at the end of the bed, tears flowing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Finn. This is all my fault. I won't let any of you suffer for me any longer. I'm going to do it. I'll do what he says. Maybe it won't be so bad."
"What does he want you to do?" Sam demanded from the doorway. "Tell me."

Blaine didn't even bother turning around to face his friend. "How did you know I was here?"
Sam shuffled into the room, holding out a coffee cup. "I know you wouldn't be anywhere else. What does Dave want you to do?"
Accepting the paper cup, Blaine downed half of it before answering. "Sam, you know better than anyone what he's capable of. Those rumors ended up turning half the school against you, and when Jacob published those photographs of you at your hotel, any chances of you maintaining your popularity were gone."

Sam smiled thinly, appreciating the irony of the situation. "I don't really care about being popular anymore. Losing your house will really help you sort out your priorities, you know? All I care about is graduating high school so I can get a full time job. My parents are broke, my mother is sick, and my dad is barely keeping it together. Don't do anything stupid because you feel obligated."
Not for the first time, he wished that Sam really was gay. "You're being bullied because of me. The whole club is suffering. Karofsky threatened Artie, Sam."
"And all they did was throw multiple slushies at him." Sam placed his broad hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I know you think he's responsible for what happened to Finn. He spent the whole game on the bench. It was an accident."

A part of him wanted to scream at his friend and spill everything about the illegal gambling ring. Blaine could tell him that their rival team's coach had rigged the game and paid Karofsky and Azimio to throw their latest playoff game so they would face them in the state championship. Sam probably wouldn't believe him. The guy had enough problems to worry about.
"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you." Karofsky's menacing words haunted him.
"I'm probably just overreacting." Blaine admitted, hating each lie tumbling from his mouth. "Karofsky did agree to Coach Beiste's idea of joining Glee Club."

The hospital disappeared and an empty classroom took its place. A pretty, petite blond girl loomed over him. "You did this to yourself, you know."
Blaine clutched his sheet music and shook his head. "I'm quitting, Quinn."
"You can't quit." Quinn's cold blue eyes sparkled. "You can't, don't you get it? For some unfathomable reason, he wants you. Dave is staying in the club, protecting you-and Sam-because we started the Bully Whips, and is planning on winning the championship game. You can't quit. If you do, you'll mess everything up for everyone!"

Blaine pushed her away, desperate to escape from her. "I hope you're happy, Quinn. I hope being crowned Prom Queen is worth all of this!"
"I saved you!" Quinn screeched, trailing after him. "I saved you from them! All of them! And this is how you want to repay me!"
"Blaine!" Grayson's persistent pestering violently yanked him out of the dream. "Blaine!"

Shooting upright, Blaine stared numbly at his older brother. "Yeah?"
"It's game time." Grayson frowned, feeling his forehead. "You're sweating. Must have been some dream."
"It's nothing." He dismissed. "Can I have a few minutes?"
"Sure." Smiling, Grayson backed out of the room. "We're leaving in twenty."
"Okay."

When the door closed, Blaine released a shaky breath. Kurt had invaded his dreams again. "Wes?"
The Asian ghost strode out of the closet. "Right here."
"Where did you go?" He knew it sounded whiny and more than a little needy. "I was looking for you."
"I know." Wes followed him into the bathroom. "Blaine, you aren't safe here in Lima."
"Because of Elizabeth?" He asked, shoving a toothbrush against his teeth. "Is that why?"
"It's a part of it." Wes narrowed his eyes, clearly troubled. "Elizabeth needs to taste your blood again, Blaine. Two more times. If she successfully does that, then there's no stopping her."

"I'm trying to help her son." Blaine complained, spitting out toothpaste. "What more does she want?"
"Kurt Hummel is only part of the problem." Wes watched as he slipped on some shoes and a clean sweater. "There are other things we need to talk about."
"I asked you before." Blaine didn't want to hear about it at the moment. "And you didn't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it now. Wes, I've had a hard day. Right now, I have to go out and face the world, even though all I really want to do is sleep. Please, I can't handle this right now!"
Wes nodded, understanding shining in his dark eyes. "Fine. It can wait. But we're all going with you to the game."

The ghost remained silent as Blaine finished getting ready for the football game. Everyone was downstairs waiting for him, bundled up in heavy winter coats and carrying blankets. Mr. Lopez offer him a graceful smile. "Glad to see you join us, Blaine."
"Should be a great time!" Grayson happily slapped him on the back. "You love football!"
"Yeah." He agreed with false cheer. "It'll be awesome."

Friendly banter and amicable conversation surrounded Blaine as he huddled in the backseat, wishing he could stay home. The football stadium was already packed with cars when they arrived. Everyone in Lima seemed to be in attendance, eagerly forming a line and steadily filing inside. Selena laughed merrily and gracefully leaned into Grayson's broad arm wrapped around her slender shoulders. Juan held Cristina's hand.
"Hope the Titans win." Elizabeth's cold drawl distracted Blaine. "Go Titans!"

The ghost stood in line behind them, eying him ruefully. "I see you brought your friends. How long do you think you can protect him, Mr. Montgomery?"
Placing his hands on Blaine's shoulders, Wes guided him into the stadium. "Long enough for you to lose some of your power. I'm not letting you get another taste."
"I'm stronger now." Elizabeth followed the other Warblers, ignoring their hateful stares. "Even more powerful than before. I can easily separate you."
"We're in public." Nick insisted. "In the middle of a crowd."
"I'll be waiting." Elizabeth climbed up the bleachers and sat down across from Blaine. "You can't save him."

Trembling, Blaine pulled his scarf tight and stared at the floor. The bleachers quickly filled to capacity. Red and white dominated the clothing choices. He barely noticed when the game started. The cheerleaders moved fluidly in front of the audience, loudly shouting their slogans and getting the crowd excited. Blaine stayed glued to his seat throughout the game. Food and drink were offered, but he refused them, too afraid he'd have to go to the bathroom if he had any. Leaving the crowd would make him more vulnerable.

It wasn't until the stadium erupted into ear splitting cheers that he realized the Titans had won the game. Blaine hadn't even seen the halftime show since he'd been so preoccupied with Elizabeth's mocking comments. Once some of the excitement died down, the crowd started to file out of the stands. Santana appeared when they finally managed to reach the football field. Juan and Cristina began to gush over their daughter's perfect cheerleading performance.
"You were amazing, sweetheart." Cristina hugged Santana. "Are you coming home with us?"
"I enjoyed the game." Juan smiled. "You were beautiful."

Santana's smile seemed genuine. "Thanks, Dad. I think I'm going to Brittany's house tonight, if that's all right."
"Of course." Juan readily agreed. "You've worked so hard. You can have fun."
"As long as you take Blaine with you." Cristina interjected, giving her guest a hard look. "I'm sure he'd like to meet some new friends."

Blaine stared at Elizabeth, shivering as she casually paced around the goal posts. The Warblers formed a tight circle around him. They looked nervous, something he'd never really seen before. He probably needed to have that serious conversation with Wes once he was alone. Something was wrong. Really wrong.
"Fine." Santana huffed impatiently, irritated she would have to babysit him all night. "Let's go, Anderson."

A beefy hand slipped into his, startling him out of his obsessive staring. "What are you doing?"
"It'll be good for you to go have some fun for a change." Grayson grinned and shoved another wad of cash into his hands. "I hear Santana is quite popular."
"Come on, stop stalling." Santana dragged him forward, pulling him towards the other cheerleaders. "I've come up with the perfect solution to our situation."
Once everyone was out of sight, Santana quickly confiscated the money in Blaine's hands. "There has to be at least a thousand dollars here!"
"Probably." He shrugged. "Grayson likes to show off."
"Look, I have plans with my best friend tonight." Santana handed him two hundred dollars, wistfully staring at a tall blond girl. "We really don't need a third wheel."

"I'll go to the movies." Blaine had no intentions of tagging along, especially when he wasn't wanted. "Can I borrow your car?"
"Sure." Santana pressed the keys into his hand. "Go wild. Just make sure it's back by morning."
"Don't you have a curfew?" He eyed the keys skeptically. "They didn't say what time I should be back."
"No." Santana grinned. "I don't have one. All they care about is my status. Popular girls stay out late."
"Oh." Blaine watched as she hurried away, content to leave him standing there. "Right."

The field had nearly emptied out, so he headed towards the parking lot. Most of the cars were gone already. A Lincoln Navigator sat near the back. Blaine instantly recognized the slender, well dressed figure frowning at four flat tires. "Kurt?"
Kurt Hummel whirled around. "I only have one spare tire."

"Did you call someone? A tow truck?" Blaine noticed the way his body trembled in the winter air, his black slacks and blue pea coat not enough to keep him warm. "You look cold."
"I'm going to be late." Kurt babbled insistently, absently chewing on one of his fingernails. "I'm not supposed to be late."
"For your date?" Blaine jingled the keys in his hands. "I could give you a ride somewhere, if you like."

Something was off about Kurt, but he couldn't say what exactly since they barely knew each other. He looked hopefully at Blaine. "I can't call my dad. I can't. Could you give me a ride?"
"Sure." Blaine guided him to Santana's Mustang. "Santana was nice enough to lend me her car."
"Thanks." Kurt smiled, though it seemed forced. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened earlier. To the car."

Blaine froze, trying not react to the casual comment. "It's not the first time it's happened."
"I don't think it will happen again." Kurt reassured him, eagerly climbing into the passenger seat. "The Bully Whips helped save me, you know."
"Right." He felt slightly unsettled, recalling the dream he'd had earlier. "Where would you like to go?"
"Bracken Park." Kurt pointed to his watch. "I'm really late now. I don't think we'll make the movie."

"Kurt." Blaine fumbled with the heater, looking in the rearview mirror so he could stare at Wes and David. "You didn't sound very excited about your date earlier today. Why did you agree to go on it?"
"I have to." The words were forced and carried the same strain they had before. "I'm late."

"Something is wrong." Sticking his hand over Kurt's head, David ran his fingers along the ceiling. "Not right here."
"What's wrong?" Blaine blurted, temporarily forgetting that Kurt could hear him.

"What?" Kurt snapped his head towards him, blue eyes finally focusing. "What did you say?"
"I asked you what's wrong." Maybe he could get something tangible out of his new friend. "I can't understand why you're going on a date with Dave Karofsky, when it's abundantly clear that you would rather be anywhere else in the world."

A long, tense silence filled the car. "No one says no to Dave, Blaine. Please turn left here."
Blaine flipped the blinker on and took a sharp turn. "That's not really answer. You can, you can tell me, you know. Trust me when I say that I can keep a secret or two."

Kurt smiled, obviously grateful for the offer. "I don't want to go anywhere with him."
"Then why are letting me drive you there?" He wished the other boy would just tell him what was going on. Things would be so much easier that way. "We don't have to go there."

Kurt looked tempted, but he shook his head. "The park is on the right, just ahead. Blaine, as much as I want to take you up on your offer-you seem nice-I can't. Dave might not be an ideal choice, and I might not want to be with him, but it's like I said. No one says no to Dave. If they do, they suffer the consequences."
"You mean like Sam Evans did?" Blaine had to get more answers. "I saw an article in the paper. It mentioned that he came out and had to quit."
"Sam's not gay, despite what the school thinks." Kurt bit his lip. "It's my fault he's been harassed. All he did was try to help me."

The park came into sight, revealing a hunched over figure sitting in a beat up pick up truck. "There he is. My Knight. Thanks for the ride, Blaine."
Blaine placed his hand over Kurt's, welcoming the instant warmth coursing through his body. "Don't go, Kurt. Stay here."
"I can't." Kurt began to unbuckle his seatbelt, then stopped. His hands shook. "I can't do this."

Without a word, Blaine pressed his foot down on the gas pedal and passed the park. "We'll go do something else."
"Oh God." Placing a hand over his mouth, Kurt rolled down the window. "Please pull over."

He pulled over on the shoulder of the road and winced as Kurt flung the door open. "I'm going to be sick."
Kurt retched, throwing up his dinner and heaving into the bitter night air. Several cars passed by. None of them stopped. David leaned out of the back window.

"You see? I knew something was wrong."
Wes met his questioning, confused look with an enigmatic smile. "All David did was help him vocalize his feelings."

"Blaine, I don't feel so well." Kurt was pale and shaking. "I'm sick."
"I'll take you home." Blaine didn't know what was wrong, and he couldn't exactly grill his dead friends at the moment. "Where do you live?"
"I don't understand." Kurt miserably leaned his head against the window. "I felt fine earlier. Could you please take a right at the next light?"
"Sure." He reached for Kurt's hand again. "Sorry you're not feeling well."
"Thanks for giving me a ride home." Kurt looked down at his hand, smiling slightly. "You're hand is so much softer than Dave's. I think I'm going to break up with him."

"Maybe you should." Blaine peered curiously at him, wondering what had brought on the sudden and strange change of heart. "Which house is yours?"
"That one." Kurt pointed to a one story, light green house in the middle of a cul-de-sac. "My dad is home."

Parking Santana's car on the street, Blaine hurried to the passenger side door and hooked an arm around Kurt's slim waist. "Let's get you inside."
Elizabeth watched them from afar, though she remained silent and subdued. It was an odd change. Kurt fumbled with the key, struggling to get the door open.

"Dad?"
"Here, why don't you sit down?" Blaine guided Kurt towards the sofa. "Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"
"Yes." Kurt's face was flushed and he collapsed bonelessly against the fluffy couch cushions. "My dad might be sleeping."
"I'm right here, son." A burly bald-headed man wearing pajamas appeared in the hallway. "What's wrong? I thought you were going to spend the night with Mercedes. And who's your friend?"

Blaine stiffly offered his hand, noting the older man's gaunt features and thin frame. "I'm Blaine Anderson. I'm a friend of Kurt's."
"He gave me a ride home." Kurt didn't even bother to look at his father. "I feel sick."
A firm, strong hand gripped his. "I'm Burt. Thanks for bringing him home."
"No problem. I was going to get him some water." Blaine went into the kitchen, eyeing the fridge. "He started feeling sick at the game."

Burt nodded, sitting down on the sofa beside his son. "I'm not surprised, with how hard he's been pushing himself lately. Taking care of me, helping out at the garage, helping Carol with Finn. Feels like he's running a fever."
"I feel terrible." Kurt muttered, rolling onto his stomach. "Sleepy."

Wes motioned towards Kurt, waving his hands at the pair. "Blaine, get a cold wash rag. I think there's some freshly squeezed juice in the fridge, some raw honey in the cabinets. It will help with his fever."

The listed ingredients were easy to find in the sizable kitchen. Blaine rummaged through the drawers. Burt covered his son with a blanket and tenderly stroked his forehead. "I know you're stretched too thin, Kurt. I'm sorry."
"Here." Blaine followed Wes' instructions and set down everything he needed on the coffee table. "This should help."
Kurt drank the juice greedily, ate several spoonfuls of honey, and didn't even taste the basil leaves Blaine had hidden in his drink. After several minutes he passed out on the couch.

"Thank you." Burt sagged, obviously exhausted. "I'm not very useful these days. Weak as a baby. Could you-would you mind staying here tonight?"
"Sure." Blaine could probably get permission from Grayson. "No problem. That's a wicked scar on your neck."

Pink, ridged skin stuck out under Burt's exposed neck line despite the dim lighting. The older man grunted. "Yeah. Doctors had to repair my Aorta Artery. Had to put endovascular stent grafts in me. I've been out of commission for months."
"I'm sorry." Blaine smiled at him, wishing his own father was more like Burt. "It must be difficult."
"Yeah." Burt stood, swaying slightly on his feet. "It has been. Thanks for staying the night. Help yourself to anything you want, Blaine. Feel free to watch TV if you like. I'll get up in a few hours to check on you guys. I can at least do that."

"It's really not a problem." Blaine reassured him. "Honestly I don't mind. Kurt's a friend."
"He hasn't mentioned you." Burt shrugged, pausing as he headed down the hallway. "But he doesn't tell me much anymore these days. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."

The house groaned around him. David came up the stairs from the basement, holding out a small dropper bottle. "I think I know what's making Kurt so sick."
Wes paled. "Cowslip. He's being overdosed with it-practically poisoned."
Blaine whispered, afraid of waking Kurt. "What?"
"It's used in magic, Blaine." David thoughtfully stared at the bottle. "Usually in love spells."
"This is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier." Wes informed him, shaking his head. "Kurt isn't dating Dave Karofsky."

"He's bound to him." David frowned darkly. "A witch has him under her spell."
"A witch." Blaine had heard about magic and other supernatural things for the last two years, but he had never encountered an actual witch before. "Who is it?"
"Now that's what we have to figure out." Wes said gravely. "Before Elizabeth comes after you again."

"I don't get it." Blaine took the bottle from David. "Why would she still be after me? We stopped Kurt from going on his date!"
"Yes. That's not the problem." Wes sighed. "Elizabeth is bound to you now, Blaine. Whoever this witch is-she's a strong one. She sent Elizabeth after you, just like she bound Kurt to Dave."

"Why?" Blaine had a feeling he really didn't want to know the answer. "Why would she do that?"
"That's the six million dollar question." Wes reached for Blaine's hand. "We have no idea why."