A/N: For those of you reading the Last Scion verse, here is another chapter. Several of you asked for a little background into how Kurt and Sebastian met, how Kurt became the Scion, what the Scion is, etc. I hope this answers some of those questions :) Sort of a kid!fic, supernatural, loosely based off of religious themes. Warning for the death of a major character (not Kurt or Sebastian).

"Daddy! "Daddy!" Kurt called, racing down the staircase, proudly holding the large diamond-shaped kite in front of him. He'd been working on it alone in his room all day; painstakingly measuring the dowels for the frame and searching for the thinnest fishing wire he could find to bind them together. He spent hours tracing and cutting colored tissue paper, gluing it down and trimming the edges until the whole kite was seamless. When he finished, it looked more like a giant stained glass window than a child's homemade kite.

Kurt bounded down the stairs two at a time in his excitement, which made the silk tail of the kite bounce behind him as if they were flying together. Kurt felt like he was flying, free as a bird in the sky, touching the clouds, soaring as high as the stars, maybe even finding a way to talk to his mother again.

Kurt and his father didn't even have time to mourn her properly after the car accident. They didn't go to her funeral or visit her grave. Kurt remembered so clearly the look in his father's eyes when they received the call that she was dead. It wasn't just anger, wasn't just sadness. It was fear. Fear so powerful that his dad packed anything they could fit into their Navigator and left Lima then and there.

Kurt swore that someday he'd go back to Lima and say good-bye to his mom, with an armful of her favorite white roses and baby's breath, and maybe this kite so she'd know how hard he had tried to find her.

Kurt could hear his father muttering when he dropped down off the last pair of steps and headed for the kitchen. His father did that sometimes – talked to his mom as if she were there, telling her about their day and how much he missed her. But his father wasn't alone. Another voice answered his father back, and when Kurt heard it, he froze solid where he stood outside the kitchen door.

Kurt heard a strange man's voice; a voice he didn't recognize, a voice he was certain he had never heard before. It wasn't a mean or sinister voice, but something about it frightened Kurt, like as if this stranger had the power to change Kurt's life forever. The man and his father talked together in the strained, hushed way adults do when they want to be sure that children won't hear.

"This is a matter of life and death," the voice whispered. "Not just for you and Kurt. Burt, the time has come. Even without the danger to his life, he'd have to come to the temple. We need to protect him. Elizabeth knew it. She had premonitions. That's why she called us before…"

"I can protect him," he heard his father hiss. His father's voice sounded dark and dangerous in a way Kurt had never heard before. Even though his dad wasn't talking expressly to him with that voice, Kurt took a defensive step back away from the door. "If he's not safe here, we'll leave. I'll take him out of the state, out of the country, wherever he can be safe."

"And where is that, Burt?" the voice retorted, volume raising slightly. "Maybe, maybe you can hide him from the sects and the cults and the other orders, but what about the demons, Burt? There's no way to hide him from the shadows. They will find him. What on heaven and earth do you think you, an acolyte, can do that hundreds of trained clerics can't? He's not safe out here, and you're being foolish to think…"

Kurt clenched his teeth, feeling his ire rising at the sound of someone insulting his father. His father wasn't a foolish man. In fact, Burt Hummel was the most practical adult that Kurt had known in all his eight years on the planet, and he wouldn't let anyone come into their house and tell him different. He left his kite on the sofa and pushed through the door, stomping into the kitchen loudly to make his presence and his anger known.

Two heads popped up and snapped in his direction, eying the boy that stormed into their private meeting with a scowl on his adorable, pale face. Burt reached out to his son, but the other man stood, and Kurt was surprised to see that he wore some kind of bright colored robes; the same kind of robe he had once seen his father and mother wearing in an old photograph that used to hang on their living room wall. The man was close to his father's age, and had the same world-weary expression on his tired face.

"Daddy?" Kurt eyeballed the stranger suspiciously as he spoke; his blue eyes never leaving the man's face. "Who is this?"

"Kurt, this is Tellemband," his father said, clearing his throat to rid it of their previous conversation. "He was a friend of your mother's and mine from a long time ago."

The man smiled down at Kurt with an expression of wonder that Kurt didn't quite understand. The man reached out a hand and Kurt took it politely, but the man jerked back as if electrocuted, his smile growing wider from the shock.

"He's a powerful boy already," Tellemband said, wringing his hands together. "Now, I must insist, Burt…"

"Say good-bye to daddy's friend," Burt interrupted, pulling Kurt behind the shield of his body. "We have a lot to do before nightfall."

Tellemband sighed, shaking his head.

"Actually, I do have to go to Westerville to pick up another boy."

Burt's green eyes went wide, his entire face perking up with a hopeful expression.

"You mean you found another…"

"No," Tellemband said softly. "A priest. One of the many."

Tellemband stepped closer to Burt, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Burt," Tellemband said, "Company's coming. They're coming for your son."

Kurt saw his father's resolve slipping at those ominous words, and Kurt clung to his dad's hand, praying that whatever he decided to do it wouldn't mean turning him over to this man. Kurt didn't know how he could possibly survive without his father, especially with his mother gone. Burt squeezed his son's hand tight.

"We'll be fine," Burt said, and at that moment Kurt believed his father to the end of the world and back. They would be fine. His dad would protect him like he always did. There was nothing that could touch them. Kurt nodded on his father's behalf when the man in the robes looked down at him.

Tellemband knelt in front of Kurt. A small glimmer of gold caught his eye, and Tellemband looked around Kurt's neck where a thick gold chain rested with a simple cross dangling below his collar bone. Tellemband reached out to it, his fingertips hovering above it without touching it.

"Your mother gave you this," Tellemband said, recognizing the blessed charm.

Kurt nodded once in reply.

"Hold onto it," Tellemband said with a hint of urgency. "Whatever you do, don't take it off…don't let it go."

It sounded like an innocent enough piece of advice to Kurt; unnecessary though since he never took the cross off, but it seemed to anger his father.

"Go…now." Burt said the words clipped and tight. He pulled Kurt farther behind him until the boy was almost back up against the wall. "And forget that you saw us."

Tellemband took Kurt's hand quickly and muttered a few, quick words that Kurt thought he recognized, though they weren't in English. They sounded like Latin…more specifically a prayer in Latin that his mother used to recite. Kurt's mother taught him a bunch of different prayers, and Kurt learned them diligently, but only because he loved his mother. He wasn't sure that he believed in a God, especially now when this supposedly benevolent, loving, grandfatherly person his mother always talked about saw fit to take her away from him.

Tellemband rose to his feet before Burt could object to the prayer. With a single long glance back at Kurt where he hid behind his father's legs, Tellemband showed himself to the door. Kurt waited until the stranger's car started and pulled off down the road before he looked up at his father. Burt sighed and leaned against the wall. He pulled his baseball cap off his head and scrubbed a hand over his face and into his hair.

"Are we going to have to leave again, daddy?" Kurt asked, staring up at his father with sad eyes. He didn't like leaving their home in Lima, and he had grown fond of the cozy family farmhouse where they had taken refuge over the last few weeks. He wasn't quite ready to say good-bye again.

"I'm afraid so, kiddo," Burt said. He looked down at his young son, his tiny body hunched over with his eyes fixed on the hardwood floor. Maybe Burt should have gone along with Tellemband's plan. This wasn't any kind of life for an eight-year-old, running from people who would try to kidnap him and use him…or worse. Burt bordered on the edge of a decision, but for now he needed to cheer up his son. "But, if I remember correctly, weren't you making a kite?"

Kurt's head perked up immediately, his cherubic face lighting up with the thought of running through the field outside with his dad, trying to get his kite in the air, hopefully succeeding in sending a message to his mom as well.

Kurt retrieved his kite where he left it on the couch and dragged his father outside, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door. Burt and Kurt ran all around the dry field for hours trying to get his kite aloft, but not a single breeze blew. No matter how hard they tried the kite stayed grounded. The late afternoon didn't feel hot, but it was still and quiet, as if the whole world were holding its breath and waiting for something to happen.

After a while, Burt felt it, too, and he knew Tellemband was right. He had to get Kurt away.

Kurt fell asleep on the sofa while his father loaded up the car. Burt had become a pro at tetris-ing their belongings in the vehicle. He could have probably drawn out a map of exactly where everything fit if such a thing had been called for.

Night came early, unnaturally early, and even though Kurt fell to sleep hard and fast, he had a hard time warding off the nightmares. Several times he tried to pull himself from the oblivion he found himself trapped in, but it pressed in on him; wrapped around him like a thick, heavy blanket. No matter where he ran in his dream, he couldn't escape it.

He felt like he was being stalked.

Kurt's father tried to shake him awake, but for all of his struggling Kurt couldn't force himself to open his eyes. His father's voice wavered slightly as he tried to rouse his son, but then he finally gave up and picked Kurt's body up off the couch.

They barely made it out the farmhouse door before the demons arrived. They grew out of the shadows, seeped in from the darkness of the moonless night outside, formed their shapeless bodies out of the dust and filth covering the floor and hanging in the air. Their evil hissing and foul stench finally woke Kurt from his sleep, but this nightmare was worse than any he had before. He could feel the vile mist wrap itself around his wrists and ankles and try to pull him from his father's arms.

Burt muttered prayers between curses, flailing to find the right blessing, the right spell that would drive the demon forces back, or at least part a path that would lead to the car and to freedom. Quickly Burt became covered by the malicious force and he dropped Kurt to the ground, shoving him with the strength he had left out the door, but Kurt refused to leave his father, even as the malevolent presence attempted to consume him whole.

Kurt could feel the prayers his father uttered move through him. He felt his lips recite them even though these particular prayers he had no conscious memory of. He felt his body become hot; white hot. Burning from the inside out with a light brighter than any he'd ever felt or seen. It filled every inch of his body and shot out in all directions – from his eyes, from his mouth, from the follicles of his hair, from the pores on his skin. The light flowed out of him, filling the dark spaces, every corner reflecting the radiant glow. It singed the shadows, eradicated everything evil in its path, and when it was gone, it disappeared entirely; not a trace of it left behind.

The only thing Kurt could see in the doorway of the quaint little farmhouse he had hoped to call home was his father, his twisted body unmoving, unbreathing. That crushed him so completely he fell immediately unconscious, unaware of the muffled footsteps racing toward him.

The next time Kurt opened his eyelids, he saw inquisitive green eyes staring back at him.

Kurt remembered saying 'hello' to the owner of those eyes. That word should have been there, but the conversation wove in and out of his thoughts, as if it were coming at him in between two radio stations, with verbal static cutting through, overwhelming the words. Kurt heard a distant muttering, something he didn't quite recall in this memory, but he knew it. Even without having to hear it clearly, he knew the words being spoken. He had recited the prayer himself, but along with it, floating beneath it, was something he heard not with this head, but with his heart.

"Kurt?"

A soft, unsure voice pierced the void.

"Kurt…wake up."

Kurt recognized it. It reminded him of love and hope and home. He wanted so much to follow it, but he had trouble pinpointing its direction.

"Kurt, please wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Kurt felt something cool touch his feet, his hands, his forehead. A sweet, warm scent filled his nostrils when he breathed. Frankincense. It filled him with a tremendous calm and peace, drawing him away from his anxiety; leading him away from memories of suffering and pain.

He blinked once and saw those same eyes, green and clouded with worry, but these eyes were older and remarkably wiser. He blinked again, and Sebastian's entire face came into view, his cheeks pink, his hair beautifully bedraggled. Sebastian hovered above Kurt, shirtless, dressed only in his boxer shorts, straddling Kurt's legs, praying over him in much the same way Tellemband prayed over Kurt in his memory.

"That's the fifth nightmare this week," Sebastian pointed out when Kurt's eyes became focused and clear.

Kurt nodded, reaching a trembling hand to touch the cross hanging from the chain around his neck.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Kurt said with a sad shake of his head. "Not really. I…I saw my father die again. And I met you. Do you remember that?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"I might have a vague recollection of that night."

Kurt smiled weakly. Sebastian felt his heart jump at that tremulous little twist of Kurt's lips, that in Kurt's pain Sebastian could still make him smile.

"Do you know what the dream means?" Sebastian asked, holding Kurt's quivering hands in his own.

Kurt felt like that frightened boy again when he looked into Sebastian's eyes. He stuttered over the first consonant, trying to get the sound past his parched throat.

"C-company's coming."

Sebastian's eyes swept across the darkened hotel room, at the front door and the broomstick standing straight and stolid beside it, at the pendulum on the bedside table that hung in place and didn't sway; all of these indicating the exact opposite of what Kurt said, but Sebastian trusted Kurt more than all the totems and symbols in the world.

"Alright," Sebastian said firmly. "We'll leave. Tonight."

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Kurt and held him, trying to calm the tremors that shook his body. Sebastian shut his eyes, murmuring the first prayers of calming he ever learned in the hopes they would help soothe Kurt's troubled soul. Sebastian closed his eyes and concentrated on the words of the simple prayer, but with the scent of Frankincense in the air and Kurt's body in his arms, his mind started to drift.

Sebastian paced the floor of the priest's tiny quarters, like a large cat prowling behind the bars of a too small cage. He had managed to escape the dormitory twice in the first twelve minutes since the older priest dropped him off and left. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what the priest had done for him. After all, his dad would have done some permanent damage for sure if he had managed to hit him across the face one more time with that wine bottle. As it was, Sebastian's nose throbbed from what the priest had diagnosed as a 'wicked break'. But Sebastian had been making moves to start his own money laundering scheme, and he couldn't do that from behind these walls.

Sebastian had underestimated the priests and their ability to keep him on lock-down. He thought for sure he could slip right by them unseen, since they all seemed completely preoccupied with the arrival of some new, important visitor; someone they had been waiting for forever by the sounds of things. After his second attempt to break free, an annoyed, squat looking man locked him in the priest's cell till his return. The term 'cell' was apparently what they called their bedrooms, but it was a perfect word for it. The room had enough space for a bed and a dresser. There were no posters or pictures on the walls except for a single cross, but most distressing was the lack of windows.

Sebastian decided he would wait for someone to open the door and make a break for it. It wasn't the most elegant plan, but it was the only one he had.

The muted buzz of conversation outside morphed into a distinct pair of voices coming his way, and Sebastian poised himself for a breakout.

"So that's really him?" a flat, unimpressed voice asked. "I thought he might be more, I don't know…more…"

Sebastian recognized that voice as belonging to the man that locked him in here. He would have to consider how much ground he might lose if he stopped long enough to kick him hard in the shin.

"Bite your tongue, Grumbald," another voice said. "He may be unconscious, but you are still speaking in the presence of the chosen. Whatever your perceptions of what he should be are flaws of yours, not his."

Sebastian knew this priest, too. He remembered that voice arguing with his father a few short hours ago.

"My apologies," Grumbald offered in an extremely unconvincing way. "I didn't mean any offense. But while we're on the subject of flawed boys, about this new acolyte you found today. You know, not every broken stray you bring in here can become a priest, Tellemband, and I won't have him. I have my own acolyte. Alistair. He comes from an affluent family. I have high hopes for him, and besides, his parents will be generous to the order."

"Money doesn't equal devotion, Grumbald," Tellemband scolded. "More than likely they're trying to buy their way to heaven. How come you never see this?"

Grumbald grunted, but it didn't seem to phase Tellemband in the slightest.

"I will be the boy's mentor," Tellemband said, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument.

That didn't mean Grumbald wouldn't try.

"You…you can't be a mentor and take on the responsibility of caring for the chosen!" he groused indignantly.

The door to the cell swung open, and Sebastian took a step, preparing to bolt, but all thoughts of running left Sebastian at once when he saw the frail boy draped like a ragdoll in the priest's arms.

"Try and stop me," Tellemband challenged.

Grumbald swallowed, too apprehensive to continue arguing. His eyes fell past Tellemband and saw Sebastian smirking back at him. He sneered at the boy, but Tellemband pushed into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"So, I heard you tried to run away again," Tellemband said, addressing Sebastian without looking at him.

"You can't keep me here. You said so yourself."

Sebastian watched the man lie the unconscious boy out on his bed.

"That's right. Until you take your vows, you are free to leave whenever you wish and never return, but I don't think that's wise."

Sebastian looked over the boy's sleeping face. He had a few marks and scratches; nothing close to what Sebastian had with his now crooked nose and purple eye, but otherwise the sleeping boy's face was perfect; his skin flawless, and for some reason it angered Sebastian that someone would dare lay a hand on him.

"What happened to him?" Sebastian asked, curbing his temper. "Did his father beat him up?"

"No." Tellemband leaned over the boy and brushed a few stray hairs from his closed eyes. "His father died trying to save him. He was a good man. When he wakes up, I'll have to tell him that his father's gone, and he'll be very upset. He doesn't have any other family left in the world."

Sebastian sighed, sitting carefully on the bed beside the boy so as not to wake him.

"Who is he?"

Tellemband examined Sebastian critically, raising an eyebrow at his curiosity.

"You've been wandering around unattended. You've probably heard rumors of a special boy with peculiar powers."

Tellemband waited for an answer, and Sebastian nodded.

"Well, this is him. His name is Kurt. We call him the Scion."

Sebastian scrunched his nose, and then winced at the sharp stab of pain.

"What is that?" Sebastian asked. "The Scion?"

"Well, he's the last of a very important blood line." Sebastian looked confused at the priest's explanation. "He is a weapon, of sorts," Tellemband clarified, "for an epic battle between good and evil."

Sebastian scoffed and tilted his head, not sure whether to be annoyed that the old man was so blatantly lying to him or impressed by the creative story.

"You're shitting me," Sebastian drawled.

"Language," Tellemband scolded, and Sebastian rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not. Actually, he's the last Scion."

"So, why is he here?" Sebastian asked, deciding to humor the obviously insane man.

"The priests of this order are sworn to protect him."

Sebastian's eyes trailed back to the boy on the bed.

"So, if I stay, I have to protect him?"

Tellemband untied Kurt's shoes and slipped them off his feet while he watched Sebastian stare down at Kurt, biting his lip between his teeth.

"That's part of the job description, yes." Tellemband covered Kurt in a blanket. "But it's not a job we take lightly."

Tellemband saw the boy's mind working as he continued to pinch his lip between his teeth, eyes glued to Kurt's sleeping face. He lingered right outside the boy's view. Sebastian turned back toward Tellemband with a determined but repentant expression.

"I'm sorry I ran away," Sebastian said. "I promise I won't do it again. I want to stay. I want to become a priest and protect Kurt."

Tellemband crossed his arms over his chest and considered the boy's sudden apology.

"So, are you staying because you want to devote your life to the priesthood, or because you want to protect Kurt?" Tellemband asked.

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest in a similar gesture.

"Does it matter?" he bit out.

Tellemband considered the boy's question.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't." Tellemband gathered up a few books from his dresser. "I must go confer with the other priests. Would you mind staying with Kurt? In case he wakes up?"

"I'll stay," Sebastian said eagerly.

"You won't leave?" Tellemband asked sternly.

Sebastian threw his hands up in frustration at what he felt was an asinine question.

"Look, do you want me to say those stupid frickin' vows now?"

Tellemband fought not to smile at the young boy's impetuousness.

"That won't be necessary if you give me your word that you won't leave."

Sebastian took a deep, cleansing breath, and fixed the priest with the most sincere look he could conjure.

"I won't leave. I promise I won't leave."

Tellemband nodded, feeling confident that Sebastian would stay true to his word, and left the cell, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

The loud click of the door shutting startled Kurt. He blinked and his eyes fluttered open, darting around the dimly lit room, looking for danger, but instead finding another boy about his own age sitting beside him on a hard, narrow bed.

"Hello," Kurt choked out cautiously, licking dry lips.

"Hello," Sebastian said quietly.

Kurt coughed a few times and struggled to prop himself up on his elbows to get a better look around.

"Where am I?"

"You're at a temple," Sebastian said, trying to sound knowledgeable, "with priests."

Kurt furrowed his brow as he appraised the boy with the blackened eye and the bruised nose.

"Why are you here?" Kurt cocked his head.

Sebastian pulled himself up to his full height.

"I'm here to protect you," he said with all the authority he could muster.

Kurt pulled a face and almost laughed. Sebastian held his breath, hoping for the sound of Kurt's laughter.

"Are you a priest?"

"Sort of. I will be soon."

Kurt nodded, sitting further upright and crossing his legs beneath the blanket.

"What happened to your nose?" Kurt asked, pointing a finger at Sebastian's face.

"Oh…" Sebastian scooted back a bit, ashamed to admit to Kurt that his father had beaten him, especially in the face of the great sacrifice Kurt's father made. "I…broke it."

Kurt waved Sebastian over with his hand, and Sebastian crawled over the bed to join him, realizing there was nothing Kurt could ask of him that he wouldn't do. For a boy who had been dead set on starting his own criminal empire and being his own boss, it was an unusual feeling bowing to someone else.

"Here. It doesn't always work, but I'll try to fix it."

"Wh-what?" Sebastian asked, but before he could move away, Kurt placed his hand gently on the bridge of Sebastian's nose. He closed his eyes and whispered a few words. Sebastian felt a pinch in the bridge of his nose. He heard Kurt whimper and a purple bruise formed on Kurt's face, right around his eye. His nose swelled as if he had been punched but then the swelling disappeared, the black and blue bruise dissolving into the skin around it along with the few scratches and scrapes Kurt had to begin with. When Kurt opened his eyes, his alabaster skin was clear. Sebastian put a hand up to his own nose and tweaked it, amazed when it didn't send a spray of sharp pain throughout his face.

"How did you do that?" Sebastian muttered in awe, still twisting his healed nose.

"I don't know for sure. I think I absorb other people's hurt, and then it goes away," Kurt explained. "That's not all I can do, but the other stuff attracts too much attention."

"So you take the pain, and then your body heals you?" Sebastian reworded, trying to make sense of what happened to his broken nose.

"Yeah." Kurt shrugged. "I guess that's how it works."

"Well, don't ever do that again!" Sebastian said, trying to rid himself of the memory of Kurt sporting his black eye and broken nose. "Alright? Promise me?"

Kurt nodded, blushing red with a small smile on his face.

"I promise."

Kurt ducked his head and looked around again, his smile fading.

"My dad's dead…isn't he," Kurt whispered, toying with the edge of the blanket, not really asking but hoping it wasn't true.

"I…I don't think I…"

"What's your name?" Kurt asked abruptly.

Sebastian looked at Kurt with wide eyes. He felt an odd compulsion to answer Kurt's question.

"Sebastian," he said.

"Sebastian," Kurt repeated, and the sound of Kurt saying his name sent a thrill down Sebastian's spine. "Sebastian, protecting me doesn't mean keeping me from the truth. So, please…"

Sebastian sat up straight again.

"Yes," he said plainly. "Yes, your dad is dead. He died protecting you."

Kurt's face went pale and he gasped. He wanted to know. He needed to know, but he wasn't quite prepared to hear it so matter-of-factly.

Kurt stared at Sebastian for a second longer before his whole body crumbled. Sebastian rushed forward and caught him in his arms, holding his thin body as Kurt cried into the blanket.

"It's okay, Kurt," Sebastian murmured into Kurt's hair. "It'll be okay. I'm here, and I'm not going to leave you, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt sniffled, but he cried again, and Sebastian held him tighter.

Outside the cell door, Tellemband held his books to his chest, finally walking away to the great hall, knowing that the Scion, for the moment, was in good hands.

Sebastian held Kurt as tight now as he did then, hushing him gently, running oil soaked fingers through his hair to keep him cool and calm. They held on to each other, tucked into their own sphere of sanctity and silence…until that silence broke with the crack of the broom falling to the floor.

Sebastian dropped his head to Kurt's shoulder and breathed out, his entire body shuddering.

"Yup," Sebastian said. "It's time for us to go."