David's book bag knocked against the side of his knee and calf as he walked down the halls afterschool, holding his book bag by the strap along the top. It had been a long day: a long week. His depressed mood was exaggerating his exhaustion, but he felt as though he didn't have the energy to lift his bag onto his back. The previous day, he'd left school at the final bell to find all of the windows smashed out of his truck. His insurance was going to cover all of the damage, but it was the intent behind the vandalism that got to him. And the hassle of it all.

He'd left his truck sitting in the Hummel-Hudson driveway that morning so that the glass guy could come and fix it sometime during the day. Finn had driven him to school that morning and they were set to meet up at the front of the school to go home. But when he got out to the parking lot, Finn was nowhere to be seen.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?" Kurt had his SUV idling in front of the school. David felt nervous about Kurt being here, especially once he noticed Alex standing in his car seat in the back, his front paws balanced on the window sill, barking through the glass at his other daddy. David's only comfort was the fact that Kurt had left the vehicle running, so he could make a quick getaway if anyone with nefarious motives approached them.

Kurt didn't look at all like he was worried about the people that had been harassing David (i.e., just about everyone) since school had gotten back from Christmas break. He had his "driving sunglasses" on and smiled largely at David through the rolled down window. "I thought the three of us could go out and have a special afternoon, together."

Pulling open the passenger side door and climbing into the seat beside Kurt, David didn't take his eyes off his boyfriend, his look of suspicion and confusion obvious. "What did you have in mind?"

xoxoxo

It had been a long drive, made longer by the whole "not-knowing" aspect of it. Any boredom David may have suffered from on the drive had been alleviated by his boyfriend and son. The three of them (Alex to a much lesser degree) had sung along with the radio as they travelled down the long stretches of highway. David had never been very "current" when it came to music, often learning the names of popular songs or artists two years after they had fallen out of vogue, but joining glee had changed all of that. David now not only recognized all of the songs that came on the radio, but knew enough of the lyrics to sing along and duet with Kurt while his son howled or barked along rhythmically in the back seat.

Alex's favorite song seemed to be "Firework;" he positively freaked out when he heard the opening strains. David listened along, chuckling, while Kurt sang and Alex yipped. Alex seemed to actually have some understanding of the song as he barked along in perfect sync every time Katy Perry (and Kurt) sang "boom, boom, boom" or "moon, moon, moon." David continued chuckling even after the song had ended. "I can't believe you let him listen to that."

"What's wrong with Katy Perry?"

"You know what that song is about, don't you?" David leaned his elbow against the window, balancing his cheek on his fist. Kurt pulled his eyes off the road long enough to shoot David a bewildered look. "It's about s-e-x."

"No, it's not. It's about recognizing your inner strength and being as strong as you can."

"Think about it; what, other than fireworks, 'streaks' across the sky? While you're saying "ung, ung, ung?"

"Stop being perverted!" Kurt reached across the stick shift to smack David on the thigh. "It's not "ung, ung, ung" it's "oh, oh, oh."

"Tell that to Katy Perry, because that sure as hell isn't what she's saying. It's about o-r-g-a-s-m-s"

"Smartass." Kurt started pulling the vehicle over towards the exit and David finally realized where they were headed as he saw the sign just before the off ramp. Westerville. They were headed to Dalton Academy.

xoxoxo

It looked more like some millionaire's estate than an all-boys' boarding school. It had a long, winding driveway leading through a brick arch that brought you to the front of the grand, brick façade; it looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel. Teenage boys and middle-aged and older professors wandered about the perfectly manicured lawns, all dressed to the nines is heavily starched suits and uniforms. There was a three tiered water fountain on the front lawn, with the plumbing shut off for the winter months; two boys sat on the side of the lower fountain, one holding up index cards, while the other scrunched up his face and tried to fish through his memories for the proper response.

Kurt continued following the car path as it curved around the left side of the building and off through a heavy grove of bare trees. Once they had passed through the thick, brown, brush the trees parted to reveal a large, gravel parking lot, filled with shiny vehicles that screamed wealth, privilege, opulence. He wasn't an expert on cars – not like Kurt and his father – but he was more than certain that he saw an Aston Martin.

Kurt parked alongside a vehicle that made Kurt's $35,000 SUV look like a secondhand Tonka truck.

They exited and collected Alex from the back seat. Kurt didn't put a leash on Alex and instead trusted Alex to stick with them. Alex, still slightly nervous about being outside on his own after getting lost a month ago, stayed tight against his daddy's side, nearly tripping Kurt several times as he got underfoot while they walked to the front entrance of the school – which Kurt insisted on calling the foyer (Kurt pronounced it "foy-ay").

Once they were inside the warm and sheltered building, Alex got a bit more adventurous, straying from his daddies' sides to sniff at the floor, the walls, paintings, banisters and anything else close enough to the ground for him to reach. David looked around and was slightly disturbed to see a moderate lack of adults. "Isn't this supposed to be, like, a super-safe place? Where's security?"

"Oh, don't worry. They're around. Just because you don't see them, doesn't mean they don't see you." Kurt nodded towards a corner where the wall met the ceiling. After a minute of straining his eyes, David saw the slight reflection of something no larger than a marble – a hidden camera recessed into the wall. Kurt continued leading David through the building: up a staircase, down a hall, up another staircase, down another hall, down a staircase. The building was deceptively large on the inside. Dr. Who must be the headmaster, David mused to himself. At long last, Kurt led David into the library, through the stacks of books, and into a small chamber off of the library, filled with chairs and still more books. Perhaps two-dozen teenage boys of various ages, appearances, and nationalities sat chatting with each other in the chairs. When Kurt and David entered, Alex in tow, the chatting died down. No one seemed shocked by their former classmate's sudden appearance. They had been expecting them.

Alex pushed between David's legs and charged at Blaine, nearly winding him as he jumped into Blaine's lap, his front paws landing squarely against Blaine's solar plexus. "Oooph! Nice to see you too, buddy. Kurt, David, it's nice to see you two. I'm so glad you decided to bring him." Blaine glanced towards David as he spoke to Kurt; David couldn't fathom why Blaine would ever be happy to see him.

"Take a seat, Dave." Dave straddled a plastic school chair backwards, as he saw some of the other boys doing. Kurt sat down beside David, his back straight and his legs crossed delicately at the ankles, with his hands folded in his lap.

"So…why am I here?" David looked throughout the room, searching each boy's face for some kind of answer. One of the boys, though, drew David's attention. He was the most unfortunately ugly looking person David had ever seen. His forehead was large and sloped with his hairline recessed; his ears were huge and set back far on the sides of his head. His skin had a sickening grey tinge to it and he had disgustingly porous skin with harsh wrinkles across his forehead, along the sides of his eyes, and beside his pushed up, pug-nose. David's first instinct was that the boy had some kind of birth defect, or genetic disorder. But it occurred to him that he'd seen similar characteristics on people before: but only ever in movies or online.

The boy was a gargoyle: an unhuman of incredible strength, endurance, and, surprisingly, pacifistic ways. They were better off than most unhumans; there had never really been any great purge against them. They had quickly sided with the church sometime during the early centuries of Christianity and had soon after been adopted as protectors and guardians by churches, monasteries, and cathedrals. The church had called them demons and used them as living examples of how it was never too late to seek god's love, guidance and forgiveness. They were among the only unhumans the church had ever considered accepting. Mostly because the church, in its early days, had needed the illusion of protection that the gargoyles had offered against Vikings, Visigoths, Huns, and other hoards of roaming barbarians.

This boy was a gargoyle. Blaine was a vampire. The boys no doubt knew David and Alex were werewolves. And yet, no one cast weary glances, or surreptitiously scooted chairs away to safer distances. David felt something heavy grow in his chest. He wasn't sure if it were fear, anxiety, or a desire of some kind. He had no words for this kind of feeling, but he knew it came from a sense of realization. "Are you all unhumans?"

A few of the boys chuckled; Kurt smiled; a few others looked about the room. "Trent isn't."

"I thought you could use a bit of a support group…people who know what you're going through. People who have been there, before." Kurt reached his hand over to David and gripped David's hand with his own, giving it a warm, affectionate squeeze.

"A private school for unhumans." David said it with a sense of awe (and tinge of fear, if truth be told). "How is such a thing possible? How are police not storming down the halls every week?"

Kurt and Blaine shared a smile between themselves, remembering how Kurt had initially confused Dalton as a school for homosexuals.

Trent was the one to respond, however. "Dalton isn't a school for unhumans. It simply accepts them. Dalton was founded in 1942. Given that it was an expensive preparatory school for boys and focused on the skills you would need to be economic and political leaders in the country, it had a de facto segregation policy. A de jure segregation policy wasn't necessary; minorities generally couldn't afford to send their children here and usually had no reason to try. Because of that, it gradually became a place of moderate acceptance.

"In 1957, when Little Rock integrated Central High School, out of solidarity, a few board members and alumni sponsored several local black boys to attend the school – though they weren't allowed to board here. Over the next few years, wealthy minority families from across the country began sending boys here in such increasing numbers that the school re-designated one of the dorms as being for minority students.

"You can imagine that, when a policy of toleration quickly morphs into a policy of welcome, tensions will build. There was a vocal group of students and staff that wanted the minority students to leave the school. They would harass them. Out of those dark times, Dalton Academy's zero-tolerance bullying policy was formed. It was one of the first such policies at a school in the country. Unfortunately for them, but lucky for us, the policy was so broad that it was all encompassing. It protected all students.

"In 1971, it was discovered that one of the students was an unhuman. This created a whole new set of problems in the school. The board of directors was divided on the situation and almost half of the board ended up resigning in protestation. Parents began ripping their students out of the school by the dozens. Those students were quickly replaced though by the parents of unhumans who, until then, had no safe place to send their children. Eventually, the school settled down again, and since the late seventies, Dalton has been completely accepting of all students, no matter their nationality, race, religion, sexual orientation, or subspecies."

"So long as they're a dude." Opined one of the other boys, prompting a smattering of soft laughs.

"What…are all of you?" David scanned the room, he had never seen so many unhumans in his life, let alone all at once.

Different boys began piping up, some speaking over each other, than politely backing down with "You first." "No you first." All told, there was a gargoyle, several vampires (including Blaine), a fairy, a nymph, twin selkies, a few different types of wizards and warlocks, a few elves, a djinn and a tennin. Trent wasn't an unhuman, but was the school's unofficial historian, so he'd been asked to attend this little meeting. A boy who was practically fighting with Alex to sit in Blaine's lap was the last to speak. "I'm Sebastian. I'm an incubus."

David knew that name…not so much the subspecies – though he had heard of it before, but he definitely knew the name. "You're Blaine's boyfriend? The one that likes to get bit?" David tried to mask the malice in his voice. He couldn't understand how anyone could abide an unhuman feeding off of them and frankly, the thought disgusted him. Everyone else in the room seemed rather amused by the idea, though.

"Blaine, dear, have you been kissing and telling?" Sebastian was practically purring in Blaine's ear, as he ran his fingers through Blaine's overly gelled hair.

Blaine blushed a crimson red, something David hadn't known vampires could do. To alleviate Blaine's discomfort, David altered the subject. "What's an incubus?"

"It's the ultimate sexual predator. Everything about us is completely indistinguishable from humans, except for one teensy-tiny, little thing: we feed off people's life forces, which we can only get through sex." Blaine blushed even redder, if that was possible.

"Isn't that…I dunno, lethal?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Generally speaking, if you keep screwing the same person. Most incubi and succubae are hardcore whores, as a result. After sexing up Blaine, though…we discovered he had none of the usual side-affects of having sex with one of my kind. After doing some research, we discovered the reason; vampires have no life force. Not really; that's part of what makes them vampires. I can still feed from Blaine though. The blood that Blaine consumes has it's own life force – from whoever it initially came from. Blaine doesn't need that life force; he just needs the blood, itself, since his body can't produce blood. He feeds; he gets the blood he needs; we have sex; I get the life force I need. It all works out rather beautifully."

"That's pretty fucked up."

Blaine pursed his lips indignantly. "Would you rather he sleep around and drain a small amount of life force from lots of people?"

David set his jaw. He wasn't pleased with their arrangement, but it was none of his business. "How the hell does the community put up with this? They have to know that one of the largest concentrations of different species unhumans in the country is living right under their nose?"

One of the boys, a nymph named Jeff, cocked his head to his shoulder and then righted it: a quick, one-sided shrug. "We've been here for decades. Those that are pissed about it have long since moved away. Those that mind won't move near here to begin with. We keep to ourselves and they usually forget we're even here."

"But vampires, and an incubus, and a djinn…you guys could do so much damage with so little effort. That doesn't bother anyone?"

"I'm sure it does, but we take responsibility for our actions. We aren't defined by what we are; we are defined by what we do." If David recalled names correctly, it was the fairy, Jesse, which was speaking. "Rashid, if someone got a hand on his ring, could easily destroy half the country with one well thought out wish by the person who had the ring. He knows that; we all know that; the whole community knows that. So he keeps his ring safe, where no one can get a hand on it.

"Blaine, Justin, and Desmond are predators who could easily hurt or kill people…hell, it's part of what they are. But they know that and they take responsibility for what they do; they don't feed off of humans and they consume only blood that had been willingly donated. That's the only way we can get the community to accept us; we take responsibility for who and what we are and more importantly, what we do."

xoxoxo

Kurt, David, and Alex spent a good deal of the afternoon with the Dalton Academy unhumans. They all talked about their own experiences as unhumans, how they had dealt with conflict, where they had found support over the years: including a great deal of websites designed for unhumans, and some fictional literature written by, for, or about unhumans.

David even made some tentative friendships. A few even asked to Facebook him before the end of the night, but David had to inform them that he had been forced to shut down his Facebook page due to the harassment at school.

The drive home was calm and quiet. Alex was passed out in his car seat, being completely drained from all the excitement. David was quiet as well, though he wasn't tired. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to organize everything he had learned that day.

One thing kept playing in repeat in his mind. We aren't defined by what we are; we are defined by what we do.

xoxoxo

When they arrived home the previous night, David was pleasantly surprised to find not only his truck windows completely replaced, but the vehicle vacuumed out as well. That was a nice bonus from the glass company, seeing as he needed to chauffeur himself in the morning.

It now was the morning and he was out of the house and on his way for the day. He wasn't headed to school, though. No, he had other plans. He pulled up to a large, low concrete building, proudly displaying the words Lima Police Department recessed into the edifice. As he entered through the glass front door, it occurred to him that he'd never been in the police department, before. Even when they had been investigating his mother's murder, the police had always come to him to talk. He'd never been brought here. The actual offices were completely cut-off from the front entrance by a concrete counter that was an actual part of the building and what had to be bulletproof glass extending from the top of the counter to the ceiling. There was a glass door at the other end of the counter that had a keypad entry system.

At this hour of the morning, there wasn't a whole lot of activity. David was the only civilian he could see in the building. David approached the front counter and the only officer stationed there: a young Hispanic male, typing away on a computer that David could barely behind the partition. "Can I help you?"

David swallowed heavily, blinking rapidly in his nervousness. "Yeah. I'd like to report a crime?" The officer peeled his eyes away from his typing and looked up at David. "I killed a man."