AN: Ah, "Comeback", an episode without a hint of Kurt, Blaine, or Dave. Which is perfect, because I get to do what I want and cover what I need for this AU! It also means that you have no clue what's about to happen, which is thrilling.

OTOH, I've had a little difficulty with plotting on "Blame it on the Alcohol," so my "promised" schedule-break may occur, well, now, especially considering I have nothing of it written yet, and I have other, actual paying projects to do and actual hard deadlines to meet. Delay shouldn't be too much, but y'all have been spoiled up to now, so you can wait a bit. ;) Hope you enjoy this in the meantime.

Let's get started, shall we?

Dave poked his head into Kurt's room. Its tenant stood immediately, frantically waving him in. "Finally! Quick, I'm dying here!"

"Geez, Kurt, calm down. Do you even know what this URL Santana sent you is?"

"No, but I have a feeling it's big! I don't think she would've sent it otherwise!"

"And you have no idea why she said I should see it too?" Dave pulled up a chair and sat next to Kurt at the desk. The laptop's screen played a soft glow over both their faces.

"No. All I know is that it's from Jacob ben Israel's blog, but I can't seem to find the link on his site. It must be something he hasn't made public yet. That's why I know it's important."

"Jacob who?"

"He's McKinley's resident Matt Drudge wannabe. If he's putting it up, it must bring in eyeballs."

Dave's eyes twinkled in amusement. "And you still haven't looked at the link? I would've watched it as soon as I got it."

Kurt's nose rose into the air. "Well, I keep my promises and consider the feelings of my friends." He turned to his laptop screen with an almost unholy look of glee on his face. "Let's see… There!" After a few moments of loading, moments that passed with Kurt's fingers tapping impatiently on the desk, a video started to play. Jacob ben Israel's face appeared on the screen, practically bursting with excitement.

"JBI reporting, bringing you what is likely to be the top story of the year at McKinley! Joining me now is the newest school power couple, Blaine Anderson and Santana Lopez!"

Dave raised an eyebrow. "So Anderson and Santana really are…?"

"I almost didn't believe it when Mercedes told me, but it must be…" Kurt shook his head. "I actually can't tell which of them's playing the game here."

"Maybe we'll find out." They turned back to the video. Blaine and Santana, nearly cheek-to-cheek, were now in view, their close-up taking up almost the entirety of the screen.

"Thanks for having us, Jacob," Santana said with a cheesy smile.

"You said you had a major announcement for my viewers?"

"That's right," Blaine replied with his own cheesy smile. "For too long, students at McKinley have been living in fear, fear of bullies."

"Bullies like you two."

"Score, Jacob," Kurt muttered under his breath.

To their credit, neither of the interviewees' smiles slipped in the slightest. "We admit we have a… checkered history in that department," Blaine said so smoothly that it must have been scripted. "That is exactly why we are here today, to offer a kind of penance for our past misdeeds."

"And what," Jacob asked, "is this 'penance'?"

"I thought you'd never ask," purred Santana. "Jacob, viewers, students of McKinley, we present a force for good that will make everyone safe from the scourge of bullying. We present…" At this point, both Blaine and Santana donned dark sunglasses. Kurt's breath hitched; he recognized them as major label models he'd only seen in magazines, websites, and on the faces of celebrities, always with triple digit price tags attached.

"… the Bully Whips!" Blaine and Santana shouted simultaneously.

The pair separated, vanishing off each side of the screen, revealing the front doors of McKinley. They burst open, and a sight like something out of a Tarantino movie appeared.

Finn, Puck, Mike, Sam, and Artie emerged from the right hand doors, while Rachel, Tina, Quinn, Brittany, Lauren, and Mercedes strode out of the left. The guys were wearing designer black suits that Kurt could tell were each specifically tailored to its wearer. Their black ties whipped freely in the breeze as light glinted off sunglasses identical to those worn by Blaine and Santana. The women were similarly impeccably dressed in white blouses with black coats, skirts, and shoes, not to mention the sunglasses, still without a single off-the-rack item in sight. The group stopped just outside the doors, some with their hands behind their backs, others with their arms crossed in front of them. Blaine and Santana stepped back into the frame; Kurt and Dave could now see that they too were dressed identically to their fellows. Each, it was now apparent, wore wireless radio earpieces.

Dave drew in a breath. "Holy shit…"

"The Bully Whips," Santana announced with a grin that could only be described as "shit-eating," "are an elite anti-bullying task force."

"Um…" Jacob interrupted, "except for Anderson, it looks like the Glee Club."

"That's right," Santana replied, unfazed. "A glee club, I must remind you, that's made up of first string football players, former and current cheerleaders trained by Sue Sylvester herself, a championship wrestler, a girl who's honed her strength and agility in dance lessons since she was barely old enough to walk… and Tina." The named girl took a glance at Santana, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses. "But I'm sure she's plenty spunky," Santana hastened to add. Tina somehow seemed mollified by this. "This is a group who is undeniably badass. Yet they are shunned by McKinley at large, so they know what it's like to be the victims of bullying. That is why they will be its perfect guardians."

"The Bully Whips are fully supported and sanctioned by the school administration," Blaine continued. "As a group, we will be able to patrol the halls of McKinley every day, finding and intervening in any bullying that occurs. Students may report incidents or serial offenders, or request personal escorts, over the phone or online, through our website or Twitter. Two members are always on call, with carte blanche to deal with bullies by… whatever means required."

"Even him?" Jacob asked as the camera focused on Artie. Only with this angle was it apparent that he had a Macbook Air in his lap.

"Artie here is our Mission Control," Santana explained off-screen as Artie gave the camera a grimly determined expression. "He will be coordinating patrols, passing on incident reports, and, along with some, ah, independent contractors, investigating reports of cyberbullying against McKinley students. As you can see, Jacob, the Bully Whips are fully equipped and willing to deal with the issue of bullying at McKinley."

"But what about zero tolerance policies? Why are the Bully Whips necessary?"

"Ah, but we all know that many students think reporting such incidents to their teachers or staff is futile or dangerous." Santana and Blaine now reappeared, with the latter doing the talking. "Not to mention that many incidents simply fly below the radar. This widespread, peer-based solution allows victims to speak more freely, without fear of judgment or retaliation, and without the danger of… overreaction by the administration."

"So," Jacob said with an edge of eagerness in his voice, "when will the beatings commence?"

"The Bully Whips are not about violence," Blaine said calmly (causing Kurt to snort). "That would make us no better than those we fight. We believe in stopping bullying before it starts. By demonstrating to both bullies and their victims that protection is available, we remove the opportunities that make violence and harassment possible in the first place."

"And if it doesn't work, then the beatings?"

Santana smiled. "Well, we hope that would-be bullies will see that we can defend ourselves and our clients, and not be so stupid. But we will defend ourselves and the helpless… if necessary."

Jacob appeared on the screen, his face lit up with excitement. "There you have it, folks, a JBI exclusive unveiling of the newest force to hit McKinley High School. Will they be able to make a dent in the reign of bullying terror? Only time will tell. This is JBI signing off!" The camera focused once more on the suited, shaded group, then ended.

There was a long minute of silence spent just staring at the "replay" icon on the screen. Finally, slowly, Kurt and Dave turned towards each other.

"That…" Dave began.

"That was…" Kurt began.

"… the fucking hottest thing I have ever seen in my life!"

"Ohmigod, I know! Did you see Sam? The boy was rocking that suit!"

"And that large chick…"

"Lauren?"

"Right. Now, I'm totally gay, but…"

"I know!" Kurt enthused. "She was amazingly sexy! They all were!"

Dave shook his head in wonder. "The Bully Whips… Where the fuck did they get that name?"

Kurt chuckled. "Who knows. Twenty dollars says Santana came up with it."

"You think it'll really work? The Bully Whips, I mean?"

"I… don't know. But I'm glad they're trying. If they can help people feel safer there, it'll be worth it."

"If it did work, would you… go back?" Dave swallowed audibly.

Kurt blinked. "I don't know that either. I want to, but…"

"Yeah," Dave nodded firmly. "Who knows what Anderson really has in mind? I don't know if even Santana can keep him steady."

Kurt laughed. "Then you don't know Santana very well. She's practically Sue Sylvester, minus a few years, hair color, and ancestry. Not quite at her level of shrewdness, either, but give her time."

"I'll take your word for it."

"But think about it, Dave. They could create a place safe for kids like you and me, where they could be out without fear. In small-town Ohio. I think that's something worth striving for. Worth hoping for."

"I guess you're right…" A thoughtful look came over his face. "Hey, speaking of that, did I ever tell you how I came out?"

"No," Kurt replied with a smile, "but I have a feeling it had something to do with Grandpa Murray."

"You got that right. I was about to turn thirteen, so he took me on a weekend fishing trip. On the drive back, he was talking about women, how he met Grandma Pat, and how to treat girls with respect. I guess I knew by that time that I was… different, so the whole thing made me kinda uncomfortable. I was twitching so much in my seat that I'm surprised I didn't send the car into a ditch." He paused; Kurt nodded encouragingly. With a smile, Dave continued. "Finally… I don't know why I spoke up the way I did. By all rights, I should've been so nervous that I should've kept quiet the entire way home. God, I wonder what would've happened then. I probably wouldn't have had the nerve to come out on my own. My life would've turned out so different…

"But I did say something. I looked at Grandpa Murray, and I actually asked, 'but what if I like guys?' For this long, long moment, he was quiet; I wouldn't be surprised if we went fifteen miles the entire time. Finally, he pulls over at this rest stop, and I'm sure I'm in trouble. I know, just know, he's gonna leave me there. But as soon as we're parked, he turns to me, and he says, 'Then you treat the boys you date with respect, same as I've been telling you.'"

"What did you say?" Kurt asked in a whisper.

"Nothing. I couldn't say anything. If you'd hit me on the knee with a hammer, I couldn't have said anything. Then Grandpa Murray says, 'I don't care who you go out with or who you hook up with, Davey. You're my grandkid, and I love you. I know your parents feel the same way, so when we get home, we're gonna tell 'em that you like guys, 'cause I don't want you to feel afraid around them a second longer, all right? And if they act even the tiniest bit hinky, I'm gonna put the fear of God into them, I guarantee you.'"

"Wow," Kurt said, his smile widening. His chin was resting on an upraised fist, leaning towards Dave, as if trying to physically take in the other boy's words.

"I know. And we did, too. He was absolutely right; Mom and Dad didn't care at all. Jack teased me for a while, of course – gave me a shirtless Ricky Martin poster for my birthday – but otherwise, he was real cool too. He denies it, but I still think he had something to do with Steve Barnes getting that black eye…"

"You have an amazing family. Grandpa Murray especially."

"Yeah… Remind me to tell you some of his stories about living on a commune in the late Sixties. Man, I never looked at him the same way again."

Kurt barked a sharp peal of laughter. "I can imagine. But it does explain a lot."

"I guess it does. He's been counterculture his whole life. I learned a helluva lot from him. Especially after I came out; he was the one who taught me how to depend on myself and…"

"Stand strong. I know."

Dave grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. I guess I do say that a little too much, don't I?"

"Oh, I don't mind." Kurt paused thoughtfully. "It's kind of odd, then, how much you seem to like Dalton. Since it's all about conformity and all."

"I suppose. But I dunno how much I actually like it; I tolerate it, 'cause it's a great education and all. Having friends like Wes and David helps. Otherwise… I think I'd go kind of nuts sometimes."

Kurt nodded forcefully. "I know what you mean. There's a lot to like about Dalton, but… if it weren't for Anderson, I don't know that I'd have ever come here. I just… It's just not the place for me. It sort of feels I'm being scrutinized and judged every second by someone. Except you, I mean. I just can't help wondering what they expect from me: my best, or for me to screw up." He looked up; there was no offense on Dave's face – just understanding. "I can't stand strong here, you know?"

"It's not for everyone, I know. Folks like Trent really thrive with all the structure. Me, I…" Dave paused. "Hey, you okay?"

"What?" The faraway look left Kurt's eyes. "Oh, yes. I was just thinking… Maybe Anderson feels the same way about McKinley."

"Huh?"

"Think about it. McKinley demands conformity just as much as Dalton – just in a different way. Anderson's trying so hard to fit in… That's why he's hiding. That's why he's so miserable. I… can understand that. God, can I understand that…"

Dave examined his friend's face; he saw no anger or fear at the mention of Anderson's name – just wonder, comprehension, and concern. His heart pounded. "Uh… Speaking of understanding…" He winced at the rather lame transition. "Gav's been singing your praises to everyone who'll listen." Dave smiled. "He thinks you're adorable."

Kurt reddened. "You had to bring him up, didn't you?"

"What? Isn't he just your type? Don't you like him?"

"I don't know enough about him to know if I 'like' or 'don't like' him yet. You certainly aren't helping with your pushing."

Dave raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll ease up. I just think… you two would be great together."

"If you think so…" The conversation died at that moment. It was only a few more minutes before Dave rose, nodded good night, and left, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts.

A satisfied Santana was a scary Santana. And right now, Santana was nothing if not satisfied as Jacob's video finished rolling. "This… is excellent."

"It should be; I did all the work," Blaine grumbled.

"Oh, poor baby," Santana said with an exaggerated pout. She scooted over from her seat on Blaine's bed and started massaging her boyfriend's shoulders. No one had checked up on the two all evening, nor did anyone blink an eye when they retreated to Blaine's bedroom; no one was around to do so anyway besides a couple of servants for whom indiscretion only went about as far as casual gossip with friends over coffee. "Well, don't worry; we'll all soon have more to do than we can handle. Lucky for us Figgins has his nose up your father's ass; with him on our side, dealing with our classes, or anything else, shouldn't be a problem."

"That's if this whole cockamamie scheme of yours works."

"All this time, and you're still questioning me? It's going to work."

"I don't understand why you decided to involve the Glee Club anyway. Some of them could run against you for prom queen, especially Quinn..."

"I explained that already; if we're going to enact the kind of change that'll get Kurt back here and us popular, we need the bodies. They'll convince Kurt we're sincere. Besides, that's why we're establishing ourselves as founders and spokespeople. When the voters think 'Bully Whips,' they'll think of us, not the grunts." She regarded Blaine for a long moment. "Cheer up, would you? You're seriously dragging down our moment of triumph here."

"Yeah, well, excuse me for feeling like I'm getting the short end of the stick."

"Hey, have you heard the buzz about you in the halls lately? In case you haven't noticed, I've been talking you up like nobody's business. You're a bigger stud than ever. You could probably get out of this whole thing even more popular with everyone than ever before."

Blaine thought about that for a moment; just a few months ago, the prospect would've been thrilling. But right now… "Maybe it wasn't worth it."

Santana's eyes widened. "Pardon?"

"Maybe I've been an idiot all this time, trying to be everything to everyone. I mean, that halftime show… It was amazing, San. Nothing I've ever done has made me feel that way. Nothing." Blaine shook his head. "And even after all that… When Finn asked me to join your stupid club permanently… I just couldn't do it." He laughed bitterly. "So cut me some slack if I can't bring myself to care about a little popularity. I've discovered I'm a fucking coward." He fell silent. "Then again…" he muttered, "maybe the popularity's all I have left."

He looked up at Santana; she was just staring at him. He'd been expecting some kind of smart-ass, cutting remark long before this; this staring was making him nervous. "Get a spine, Anderson," she finally snapped. Okay, Blaine thought, this is more like it. "So you don't know who you are or what you want. Big whoop. There's a support group for that: it's called the fucking human race."

"Like you care," Blaine grumbled.

"All I know is that this whole thing falls apart without you. So you're deep in the closet and you don't think your mommy and daddy love you. Big fucking deal."

Something hot ignited in Blaine's chest. "I do not think that Mom and Dad don't…"

"Okay, okay, fine." Santana stared at Blaine for a long moment, a strange look in her eyes, one that didn't seem particularly contemptuous or hostile. That made it completely foreign to his eyes, and set his heart pounding in an unaccountable way. The silence stretched on. Blaine thought he could hear a clock ticking, even though his were digital. The wind rattled his window.

"Santana…?"

The cheerleader closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I'm doing this for Brittany," she finally whispered.

"Who…? Brittany Pierce? Why? What's she got to do with…?"

"If I get Kurt back," she continued in the same whisper, the pace of her words increasing, as if she feared they'd stop if they didn't, "if I win prom queen… Maybe I can fool her into thinking I can command her to be with me. Or maybe she'll think that I'm good, that I've changed. Maybe she'll leave Artie and come back to me…"

Blaine's eyes widened. His mind went back over the words, trying to find some way he could've misheard, trying to find some alternate interpretation. "Y-you and…?" He swallowed. "You two just make out for the guys," he rasped. "Right?" Then he saw the tears streaking down her cheeks. "Oh, God… Then…"

Santana nodded mutely. "Yeah. That's how I found you. I… knew what to look for." She laughed a bitter laugh. "I guess as a closeted lesbian and a judgmental bitch, I have pretty good gaydar."

"But… why are you telling me? I could just tell everyone and…"

"Then I'd out you in return. We'd both be ruined. Now we can keep our secrets together."

Blaine tentatively reached out and touched his girlfriend's shoulder. It stiffened a little, but did not flinch. "That doesn't answer my question. Why are you telling me? I'm not exactly the mentor type."

She shook her head. "I… It felt like I should. Maybe I was tired of having no one talk to. Maybe us working together these past few weeks made me feel like I could say something. Maybe…" She threw up her hands. "I have no fucking idea. Maybe I'm starting to see that you have the potential to be an actual human being."

Blaine swallowed. She's actually trusting me with this. Me. He groped for words like a man in the dark. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Santana laughed, a gurgling sound that came from her throat. Blaine offered her a tissue, which she took and used to dab her face. "So, there you have it. The big bad bitch cheerleader, crying herself to sleep over a blonde who thinks that knockwurst is awful sex. Must make you feel good seeing me knocked down to your pathetic level, huh?"

"Honestly?" Blaine replied quietly. "No." He put an arm around her; her head sank to his shoulder. He rubbed her arm, letting the tears wring themselves out.