A/N: Finally! If you care about why this is so late, read on! If not, skip ahead and enjoy! :)

Why this is so late: I hate making excuses, but this week was so incredibly stressful for me. School was insane, track took off out of nowhere (my coach decided I'm varsity material - I disagree), and soccer had multiple practices on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I hope a longer chapter makes up for that at least a little bit! Needless to say, I'm pretty much drained. The good news: I'm on spring break! That means that I'll have more time to write this week. Thank goodness. To those of you that are still here, and still reading, thank you so, so, so much for not giving up on this story. I love you guys like crazy!

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine

Enjoy! :)

...

Blaine finds out quickly enough that Jeff can shake the ground and more; he can bring up chunks of it and create dips and riddle it with holes like Swiss cheese. Nick's jumps are more like flying leaps, and Blaine swears that his legs stretch out in front if him as he does so. All of it is surreal, because Blaine wants to shout out at the Warblers get out of here, go, turn back! Can't you see that Sam's already hurt?

But he wouldn't dare.

"New Directions," booms Thad, second in command to Sebastian and owner of a wicked control over liquid of any kind. He could freeze the blood in everyone's veins right now if he wanted to. It's pretty much the only reason he has so much power; that, and his admittedly eloquent way with words. "You have two choices: surrender; or stay and fight outnumbered against some of the most powerful, thoroughly trained opponents you'll ever have to face. Choose wisely," he tacks on mildly, self-satisfied smile firmly in place. He won't be shaken. He's never been defeated, after all; the confidence has to come from somewhere.

Blaine falls back into rank, eager to take the attention off of himself, if only for a moment. The prying eyes of the warblers continue to burn his back, though, and it's not like he expected Finn to just say sure, we give up, we quit.

Several people try to speak up at the same time, and Rachel shouts over all of them with a quick, "Give us just one minute to get back to you!" that leaves everyone surprised but Blaine. Thad is agape. Blaine would have to stifle a grin if the situation were different, but as it stands he just feels exhausted. He's so tired of having to not care about the only people that really love him while caring so much it hurts. It's draining. He feels like he can barely move anymore.

While ND is grouped together in some pathetic parody of a team huddle, the Warblers seem relatively nonplussed by it all. Aside from the astonishment at the way they'd been initially written off, their arrogance seems entirely intact.

Blaine watches the way the skin on the nape of Kurt's skin meets golden brown hair in a kiss. He watches the taut stress of the tendons in his back, and the way his voice rises above the rest, quick and anxious and tense. He watches because he can, and he feels like a terrible, awful person for doing so (because what right does he have?) but he can't bear to look away.

Soon enough, Rachel steps up. Sam is on his feet by this point in time, wincing and leaning heavily on his right leg, an arm wrapped around his scorched torso. "Warblers!" shouts Rachel, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "We have made a decision! We will give this raid up if you give us Blaine Anderson, the former member you stole from us! Blaine is family to us, no matter what kind of mind tricks you've pulled on him!" Every sentence is a shout, and her eyes are bright and almost manic, in a way. This is the Rachel Berry Blaine remembers. A few scattered people nod after her speech, most notably Mike and Artie.

Blaine forgets to breathe for a minute. He meets eyes with Rachel and her smile is small and shaky but it's there. They're still trying to help him. They still think he's actually worth something and he can't believe this.

Please, he thinks, please let me go.

Yeah, right. That'll fly with Sebastian.

Thad speaks up again, "That was not an option! Are you prepared to battle?"

And all of a sudden the hope that had filled Blaine seconds before is crushed to the ground. This isn't some cute little fairytale fantasy. He isn't some hero. He's quite the opposite in this situation, actually, and just because Rachel and Mike and Artie think he isn't totally evil yet doesn't mean he isn't. He'll get there, he knows it, he just doesn't know when or how. It's a terrifying thing, but it's real. This is real life. He needs to figure that out, and now, or he'll never find an escape from this hell.

"Why do you want him, anyways? I know he didn't ask for this, so don't try to pull that on us. You could have taken any of us; why him? Why?" It's so wildly unexpected that Blaine flinches at the voice. Kurt's eyes are wide and blue and a little bit terrified. He's clearly sleep deprived if the dark, hollowed circles are any indication, and he's still tense.

It's what Blaine has noticed every time he's stolen a glance. Kurt is tense and stressed and determined to keep his composure.

Kurt, he wants to shout suddenly, Stop it! You'll get yourself killed saying things like that!

But it's not like has any power here. He's just a pawn in the ultimate game, to be honest. It's a good question, though. Why Blaine? He was the new kid. Most of the group didn't even know him all that well when everything was blown to bits.

"This wasn't his choice," continues the other boy, and Blaine's fists are turning white from how hard he's clenching them. "Just let him go and we won't come back. Ever. Okay? Are you happy? Do you count this as some sick sort of win?"

No one expects what happens next, least of all Blaine. Sebastian's voice in his head has been notably absent in the past few minutes, but apparently that isn't some coincidence. The air is moving, moving, moving, practically lifting people from the ground, and the blades are whirling through the air, and the sound is deafening, and Blaine doesn't know why he's surprised because Sebastian always did enjoy a dramatic entrance. Twenty-five heads swivel as one, and Sebastian's smile is wider than the sun as he steps off of the helicopter.

"Well, I couldn't miss this fight, could I?" he asks grandly, and Blaine is already shaking his head and backing up. This can't be happening right now, none of this can be happening. Every once in a while he gets these feelings, like everything is crashing over him in an overwhelming wave, and he can't breathe.

This is one of those moments, because he hears in his head you're not the only one I can talk to, and all hell breaks loose as Rachel gasps, and grabs Finn, and whispers in his ear just as Puck turns a bright bright red and Kurt's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"You're lying!" he shouts, eyes still blindingly blue, "You're lying!"

"But I'm not," smirks Sebastian, clearly happy with this reaction. Blaine wants to hit something. "He could've left a long time ago, but he chose not to. Why do you think he stuck around so long? And why else would he help take down your operations time and time again? Maybe it's because he's actually moved on in-"

"Stop!" shouts Blaine, heart pounding erratically. They must be able to hear it.

Everybody stops.

All eyes are on him, and he can feel his neck burning until it's as red as a signal light. This is the moment where he fixes things. This is the moment where things go back to normal, where everyone knows that this wasn't his choice, where he's set free.

"I didn't ask for this," he starts shakily, "You guys have to know that. I'm trying my best to do what I think is right, and it's not like it's easy, okay?" He coughs a little as the words get caught in his throat. The silence is deadly. The breath he draws is murky. Situations crash through his mind and he tears them all down with a confession: "I don't know what to do."

He'd say more, wants to say more, needs to say more, but the remote is sitting right in Sebastian's pocket and one false move could compromise everything.

One. False. Move. Could. Compromise. Everything.

Like he hasn't heard that enough lately.

"Just come back," tries Rachel, a sad hopeful smile stretched across her lips, and for one reckless second he wants to shout yes until the entire world hears him. He wants to break free and forget the Warblers and live happily and fly across the ground the way he used to; lately he's been contained, monitored, but all he wants is a stretch of nothing before him and a chance to really run.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Sebastian cuts off the conversation smoothly. "Are we going to fight or not? My sidekick has said enough, I think. Let's get moving before I get bored and blow you all up."

Blaine feels some crushing sense of disappointment in his gut, and realizes bitterly that some small part of him had clung onto hope. It's too dangerous to do that, but he never claimed to care about his own safety. He never claimed to care at all. Rachel's face falls at the silence, he notices distantly.

Finn is about to step up when Quinn stands. "No," she decides firmly, and some gape. "Sam is hurt, we're low on…everything, to be honest, and we're hopelessly outnumbered. Not today, Warblers." She helps Sam up from where he'd taken a seat on the grass, allowing him to lean heavily on her, throws up a weak force field, and begins to lead him away. The rest of the group follows.

"Well, they're nothing if not spontaneous," remarks Thad boredly. Blaine knows; the New Directions are unexpected. It's the only way they're still a force to be reckoned with. They aren't the best trained, or the most dedicated, or the most refined, but they are nearly impossible to predict. It's saved Blaine's life once before.

Maybe they can do it again, he thinks wistfully, looking back at the battlefield, now pockmarked with little indentations. You'd miss them if you didn't know what'd happened.

They aren't much to look at that, but they exist. They show the horrors of the day. They show the disputes, the indecision, the pain and the sorrow. They show Blaine's story, really.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, then looks ahead of them. The Warblers are moving with deadly precision toward a fleet of cars. He never asked for this, but he has to play along, so maybe he will.

He doesn't look back once.

...

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