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Part one
Kurt had only just sat down with his drink when he saw a man moving in his direction. He didn’t look like any of the guys who would usually frequent the Lima Bean. Kurt was surprised hadn’t noticed him while he was waiting in line. He was...maybe close to thirty, Kurt guessed, and his most noticeable feature was the short, obviously bleached hair. Seriously, this was not like Sam, this was the uniform yellowish blonde of somebody who wanted you to know it wasn’t natural. Also, he had totally dark eyebrows. Kurt wasn’t sure he was a fan of the look, it was sort of ironically 90’s, maybe? Anyway, with the hair and the fact that his clothes were several levels tighter than what was generally considered acceptable for men in that part of the world, Kurt couldn’t help but be intrigued. And was that a vintage leather jacket?
“Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?” he asked, placing a hand on the free chair on the other side of Kurt’s table. Kurt opened his eyes wider. That accent was unfamiliar. British, he thought, definitely not from around here.
Kurt didn’t know what gave him the nerve to do it, maybe it was being alone in the Lima Bean at night with nobody from school around, talking to a guy who was obviously from far, far away and probably going back there, because why on earth would he want to stay? Maybe if he was honest, it was a little bit about being pissed that he was alone, and not here with Blaine. So he leaned around the table, pretending to examine the seat of the empty chair. Then he looked back up, straight into the eyes of the - actually quite good looking - stranger.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Or if there is, he’s really, really tiny.”
The man grinned at him. “I’ll take the chance,” he said, placing his cup on the table in front of him. “I suppose it would be rude not to introduce myself? I’m Spike. Nice to meet you.”
Kurt was sure he looked like the surprised small town kid he was, but he tried his best to pull himself together, and took a sip of his coffee before he answered. “Kurt. Um, are you here for the open mic?”
“Oh, no. Though I do sing, occasionally. But, no, just passing through, I was seeing an old acquaintance. I thought I’d get a coffee before I go, it’s a long drive back to Cleveland.”
Kurt stared. “You’re from Cleveland?”
Spike shrugged. “Well, London originally, but that was a long time ago.” He paused, and it felt like he was searching for something in Kurt’s face, or maybe that was just his self consciousness about being looked at by a guy like this. “Actually - you might know my old friend. Sue Sylvester? She works at the high school.”
Okay, that was a little weird. But Lima was a small town, and Sue might be one of the more likely people there to have strange old friends from London-via-Cleveland. “Actually, yes. I, ah, was on her cheerleading team for a while. A very short while.”
“So. What are you?”
Right. Of course he couldn’t actually be interested in Kurt, he’d just been playing a longer game, and now Kurt could hear the mocking in what he’d thought was just the accent. He raised an eyebrow.
“You mean, what species of freak are you looking at?” he asked coldly. “Take your pick. It’s none of your business.” Kurt looked the stranger up and down, and took a deep breath. “Anyway, I don’t know why you’re so entertained by that when you look like Draco Malfoy dressed to go clubbing. In 1998.”
Kurt hadn’t expected him to laugh at that. It was gratifying, in a way, even if the anger still burned in his gut. Perhaps they did have something in common, even if he was making fun of Kurt. If nothing else they were both completely out of place here.
When he was done laughing, though, the guy looked back at him with a look so perfectly haughty and detached that, as much as it pissed him off, Kurt couldn’t help studying it, wondering if he would teach him. “Actually, Draco Malfoy stole that look from me.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Of course.” He pointedly looked back down at his mocha.
Spike sighed and adjusted his two-handed grip on the coffee. “All right. So it’s not that easy,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “The thing is...my friend Sue and I had a little disagreement. So I came looking for you. To settle it.”
Kurt sat back in his chair, giving himself a little bit more distance.“I think you’d better explain exactly what you’re talking about,” he said. “Here, in a public place.”
Spike took a breath. “Do you know a girl called Brittany Pierce? Blonde, really sweet...”
“...amazing dancer, really loves cats? Yes. She’s...a friend.”
“Exactly.” Spike nodded slowly. Another breath. “Do you know what a slayer is?”
“A what?” Kurt tilted his head to his side. “No.”
“A slayer. Like... your friend Brittany might be, soon. I mean, will be.” Kurt looked at him, feeling like his mouth must be falling open. “Things have changed,” Spike continued. “Used to be there was only one. But...not anymore, I suppose. We live in interesting times. And...I’m wondering if they might be about to get even more interesting, around here.”
“Wait, back up,” Kurt said. “Slayer? As in, dragons and swords and...”
“Mostly vampires, actually.” Spike looked almost apologetic.
“Vampires. You think my friend Brittany is a future slayer of vampires.” Kurt glanced around them. The people at the other tables seemed not to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were watching a Lima Bean employee and a guy with a beard apparently were setting up the open mic.
Spike followed his gaze, watched for a second, and turned back to Kurt. “I do,” he said, seriously. “I think she’ll be bloody good at it, actually.”
Kurt laughed. “You’re insane,” he said. “Is that it? I mean, if you know Sue, you probably are, and Brittany believes in unicorns and...you’re just another bizarre Lima crackpot.” He smiled. “At least you’re an entertaining one. You should probably talk to my friend Tina, though, she’s the one who really enjoys playing vampire.”
Spike grinned at him. “Oh, love, I don’t play.” And for an instant - just the blink of an eye, so quick that Kurt would almost have sworn it was an illusion - he changed. With a little hissing sound, his face turned into something completely...other, and terrifying, and then back again, before Kurt was even sure what it had really looked like. He was left sitting very still, trying to catch his breath, staring at the man in front of him.
“What was that?” he whispered.
“That was the face of a vampire,” Spike said. “You see why I don’t normally go around showing people, but you’re quite the skeptic, aren’t you.”
“Okay,” Kurt said. “Okay. This is a dream, and in my dream, you’re a vampire. I can deal with that. But if you’re one of those, and Sue is training Britt to kill them - that’s what your so-called slayers do, right? Then why wouldn’t you stay far, far away from them?”
“I think it’s enough to say it’s not quite so simple,” Spike said. “Lots and lots of things happened, I died a couple times...alliances change. But I wouldn’t say we’re exactly on the same team, no.”
“Sort of like high school,” Kurt commented. He might as well play along, and hallucination or not -- if you ignored Blaine, which he was rather in the mood to do -- this was the best conversation he’d had in months. “Okay, I’ll buy that, but you still haven’t explained why you’re talking to me?”
“Ah, yes. Back to business. It’s a good thing I already told you about the fangs so this won’t seem any creepier than it already is.”
Kurt almost giggled, but he managed to stop himself. Barely. He thought he might like this guy.
Spike smiled at him. “I wanted to get to know you, Kurt. You see, Sue has been talking about you. I believe she tends to...challenge you? Call you names? Have...interesting ideas?”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “You could say that. She’s not worse than the kids, but...I don’t get it, she wants me on her team and then she treats me like trash.”
Spike nodded. “That sounds like the Sue we all know and love. I believe her words to me were, a fierce little ladyboy you wouldn’t want coming at you with a stake.”
Kurt stuck his jaw out. No matter how many times he heard it, it was still offensive, and he resented people telling him he was a girl just because he wouldn’t adhere to their stupid, provincial rules. “I’m a boy,” he said. “Some people seem to find that hard to accept.”
“I see,” Spike said. “Well, if you’re sure about that.”
Kurt glared at him. “If I’m sure about that?” he repeated.
“Look, this place and time isn’t fantastic but, again, it’s not always that simple. Binary. Whatever.” Spike sounded almost like this was an argument he was tired of having, which must mean he came from somewhere very different from Ohio originally. It was still annoying.
Why did people have to make it so hard? Why couldn’t they just listen to him? Yes, he’d had some tiny, nagging doubts in the back of his mind sometimes. He’d googled stuff. And sometimes he’d called himself an honorary girl, but damn it, look at his options.
“I’m gay. I’m a gay man. Boy. Not a girl, not a drag queen, not trans-anything, boy.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought about it. All right, I guess I’ll be going, then.” There was both respect and a bit of disappointment in his voice.
“What, you were hoping I’d tell you I’m really a girl inside?” Kurt couldn’t resist a final glare, and if he was honest, he was a little bit pissed that Spike was leaving like that. Wasn’t he good enough for anyone? “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Well, that’s what Sue kept telling me, that she’d been pushing and poking and she was pretty sure you were just a righteously angry baby gay and not a potential slayer born in the wrong body. But I had to check.” He pushed his chair out from the table, ready to leave. “Too bad, I think you would have been magnificent. Supernatural strength and agility, natural grace...a reason to kill the bad guys?”
“Yes, and now apparently that’s another thing on the list of things I can’t do because I’m a boy?” He snorted. “Tell that to the 200-pound Neanderthal bullies. They don’t usually stop to ask if you personally identify more as a fag or a tranny, you know?”
Spike looked angry for a moment, then he shook his head. “And I thought the demons were the problem with this place. Bloody...people.” He stood up. “All right, I have to go. Sorry, Kurt.”
Kurt downed the rest of his lukewarm coffee as he watched him head for the door. He felt like that was all he was doing, most of the time. Sitting around, watching people leave, watching life happen without him and around him, hoping for something better and being thoroughly disappointed. He could fight, though. Or at least he could be persistent and stubborn enough to sometimes wear people down into giving him what he wanted.
Kurt stood up decisively, straightening his jacket, and walked after Spike out into the dark parking lot. He was almost too late, but then movement and a glimpse of platinum hair caught his eye close to one edge. He waited for exactly two breaths, and then he followed.
He didn’t even have time to really worry about getting in trouble. He was only crossing the parking lot, just stepping onto the curb, and then he was suddenly off it, in the actual dark away from the streetlights, being dragged and held by something very strong.
In horror movies people screamed when that happened. In real life, Kurt knew, he didn’t, and it didn’t seem to make a difference that - now that he caught a badly lit glimpse of his attacker - that it was decidedly not human. Fear was fear, being grabbed by something bigger than you was not a new experience. Kurt did what he always did: he waited to see what it would do.
There was a stab of icy pain, and more fear, it was hard to separate the two anymore. Was this it? It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be dying out here in the dirty bushes outside a strip mall. And nobody would believe...that thing. His dad would find out about Kurt talking to a strange, older guy and following him outside and...people would think he was looking for a hook-up and that Spike had killed him. And really, was this what he was going to spend his last few seconds worrying about? He was being pushed against something...wire fence, and there was more pain, and a lot of noise, and it was dark.
And then he saw...Spike? But why was he changing? He was looking like a monster again and he was getting very close.
“What are you doing?” Kurt managed to choke out.
“Something very, very stupid,” he heard Spike answer, and then he felt the bite.
Part two
Kurt stood on the sidewalk outside his house, staring up at the windows. It was dark and quiet, but he had the feeling of everything being...not louder, maybe, but clearer. There was more texture to the dark and quiet, higher resolution. He noticed things he knew he hadn’t been able to the night before. If it wasn’t several nights. It was dark again, but he wasn’t sure how much time he’d lost.
He heard were rustling leaves and little nocturnal creatures going about their lives, some stalking, others scurrying - predator and prey, that was the way of things, and Kurt was glad to finally be sure of his place on the right side of the divide. He caught a trace of Carole’s new perfume in the air, the one he had bought for her, and he could hear the soft sound of his father’s snoring through the wall.
Kurt was only abstractly was aware that this was was the kind of thing that would have made him sad, before. He should probably have been crying. But instead, he stood there and listened to what must be the ticks of a clock and felt nothing other than intense irritation. He just wanted to go in there and make it stop.
“You don’t want to go in there, love,” he heard behind him. The voice was more familiar than it seemed it should be, after meeting the man once, but then that meeting had been intimate, in a way. Kurt turned and saw Spike standing under a tree, watching him carefully.
“Yes, I do,” Kurt said. “It was the first place I wanted to come, when I...”
“Woke up?” Spike shook his head, walked over and put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Comforting, but also holding him back. “Yeah. That’s the demon, kid. Trying to rid itself of the ones who tie you to your human life.”
Kurt felt something in his chest. An ache, maybe, something unpleasant taking up the space where there wasn’t a heartbeat anymore. Not feelings, though, he didn’t have feelings for the people inside that house anymore, certainly not beyond wanting to rip their throats out and make them go away.
“Besides,” Spike continued in a low voice, sliding an arm around Kurt’s waist, “you can’t go in, you know. Not without an invitation.”
“An invitation?” Kurt tensed and pulled away from the touch. “But I live there. It’s my home.”
Spike shook his head. “Not anymore, it isn’t.” His hand stayed where it was. Kurt relaxed a little bit against it. He hated this. But maybe he could still have something...he looked down, thinking.
“They’d let me in,” he said, speculatively. “If they saw me out here in the middle of the night. My dad would order me in.”
“He would,” Spike agreed. “I’ve seen it happen. Doesn’t seem to matter that they know their kid’s dead.” He drew his jacket closer around him.
“It’s not like I’d regret it, right? I mean...I’m dead. No soul, or whatever?” Kurt asked, looking up at Spike.
Spike’s smile was bitter, and he pulled away a little, taking a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. “You’d think that’d be how it worked, wouldn’t you?”
Kurt considered that for a moment while Spike lit a cigarette and drew a couple of puffs.
“I’d suggest something more fun, less confusing, for tonight,” he said, his tone lighter. “After all, it’s your first night out...how about some of those blokes you said had been pushing you around?”
“Really?” Kurt looked at Spike hopefully. Revenge would be delicious, and he had no doubts about where he’d start. Dave Karofsky. He’d threatened to kill Kurt, made him feel small and helpless and scared, and yes, Kurt very much wanted to turn that around for a change. “Dave Karofsky?”
“Really,” Spike said, smiling at him. “Him, and anyone else who hurt you. Let’s make a night of it.”
“Blaine,” Kurt suggested, a little uncertainly.
“Who’s Blaine?” asked Spike, narrowing his eyes.
“Just a boy.” Kurt looked down. “A boy who’d rather get drunk and make out with girls than see what’s right in front of him,” he added bitterly.
“I see.” Spike’s understanding tone was almost insulting, but Kurt kept talking.
“And he couldn’t even pick a nice girl, no; it had to be the most self centered, arrogant...can we get her too?”
“Let’s go,” Spike agreed. “We’ll take ‘em both.”
“Yeah.” Kurt nodded, a smile slowly forming on his lips as he warmed to the idea, and took off following close at Spike’s side. “Yeah, and – we can turn them, right? I mean – I can? If I do, then – they’ll be drawn to me, right? Not leave me?”
Spike smiled that sad smile. “Yeah, again, you’d think that would work. But, love, no. You think they’re annoying you now, imagine being stuck with them for eternity. Most likely with the uglier parts of their personality. And you’re not ready, and just like with teen moms, granddad here would be taking care of them.” He sighed. “So, no.”
Kurt’s pout didn’t last very long. He moved closer to Spike’s side.
“Just killing them would be fine, I guess,” he said. “But I want to start with Karofsky.”
Spike nodded. “Okay.”
A lot of the feelings Kurt used to have about Dave were gone now. He didn't really have feelings, in general. He had senses, and those other things he’d had about his family. The urge to kill, to bite, to watch them bleed to death. To make it stop.
Thinking of Karofsky, though, it was all about the power. Kurt could kill him. The guy who had pushed him up against a locker, backed up by the hockey team, the guy who had forced his disgusting mouth on Kurt - revenge.
Kurt had a memory of having felt sorry for him, once, but now? Nothing was left but contempt. Now Kurt could hold Dave Karofsky down and bite him, and there was nothing he would be able to do about it. And Kurt remembered what the bite felt like. Dave would like it, and that would hurt him more than most pain.
He'd like it, and it would hurt, and then he would die.
Kurt paused for a moment, thinking of his blood, wondering if it would taste like grease and self-hate and Ohio junk-food.
"Do I have to drink his blood?" he asked.
Spike laughed. "Do you have to? No. But I think you'll want to."
Kurt nodded. "Okay. Let's go."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Yes." Kurt had never walked there, before, but Finn had pointed out the house to him.
Walking, as a vampire, was easier. It made sense, he thought, that superhuman strength would help with walking along the dark sidewalks of Lima, but it seemed a little...beneath his powers. The trees in the gardens loomed over them in the 3am moonlight, and again, Kurt could hear and see and smell things he never could before. It was fascinating and disgusting. All those little people with their small lives, their sweat and their macaroni and cheese and their snoring - Kurt raised his chin, feeling proud. He'd never be part of that. No more. He was above them, now, the weak mass of slowly dying human meat. He was already dead, and he didn’t even have to feel guilty about it.
The Karofsky house looked like all the other houses, two stories but not very big, brick walls and a garage. Kurt had to check the number to make sure this was it. He remembered that, because he'd fantasized repeatedly, as he drove by, about what he'd do to it if he could. If he'd been the one with a hockey team behind him.
Then he’d wondered if he should be above thoughts like that, he remembered abstractly. He didn’t really have that feeling anymore, either. He stopped.
"This is it?" Spike asked. "It's not very impressive."
Kurt shook his head. "It's Lima. Everything is small and dirty and disgusting, that's what's wrong with it."
Since waking up, he'd had a sense of not only clarity, but of being connected to something greater, some kind of purpose, perhaps? Was this what religious people felt, only the other way around? He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Can you feel...evil?" he asked.
"Do I feel evil? Oh, love, of course. Both more and less than I used to. Not as often as I possibly should."
Kurt shook his head, annoyed. "No, I mean, do you feel like...you can feel it, you know, capital E Evil? Something bigger than yourself?"
Spike laughed. "Oh, yeah, that. Trust me, it's not as grand as it seems at first."
Kurt kicked his own heel with the tip of his shoe. "Well, I feel something. Like it’s all connected and it all makes sense now. And it’s a great feeling, I just don't get it. If we’re evil, why are we killing bad guys? Shouldn’t we be going for the sweet little girls who love kittens?"
The look that earned him reminded him of an older brother shaking his head at a stupid kid. "That would make sense, wouldn’t it? But it’s not that simple, and I'm afraid evil is rather prone to killing off its own, anyway. There isn’t really a cohesive organization." He shrugged. "Are we getting started or not?"
"Can I kick in the door?" Kurt brightened.
"Invitation," Spike reminded him, taking some of the sting out of it with a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and his mouth very close to his ear.
"Oh," Kurt said again. "Yeah." He looked up. "Do you think that's his room?"
"Why don't you try to figure it out yourself," asked Spike, and Kurt was half annoyed, but he also wanted to prove he could do it. He stopped and listened. He could hear the breathing of the people inside the house, when he focused. One...no, three. One on this side, two on the other.
“That one,” he said, pointing at the window beside the one he’d originally guessed. He looked down at the driveway, and picked up a few small rocks. He reached back, aiming to throw one at the window, but Spike was behind him, grabbing his wrist and holding it back. “What are you...” Kurt started to ask, but Spike put one hand on his hip and lowered Kurt’s arm slowly, with a strength he knew he couldn’t resist but still resented.
“Yes,” that voice said, in a low voice near his ear. “Exactly. You don’t know your strength yet, and if you’d thrown that thing without thinking, you would have put it through the glass and into the wall on the other side of the room. So, easy.”
Kurt looked down. Before - when he was still alive - he’d be blushing. Another small indignity he was no longer slave to. He grinned and tossed the rock, very lightly, at Karofsky’s window.
No reaction, but with his new sharpened hearing, Kurt could tell he was turning his big clumsy body in his bed. Another rock, another, louder sound from inside. He did it again until he could see that stupid pale potato face at the window, trying to see what was going on outside.
“Come on, open it!” he said, not really loud enough to hear through glass for a normal human, let alone one as thick-headed as this one, but it seemed to work. Dave cracked the window open a few inches. “Karofsky!” Kurt hissed. “Dave!”
The window opened all the way, and a sleepy head appeared. “Kurt?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t, really, if he understood his sire correctly, but he didn’t think it would help his cause to say no, it’s not me, it’s a demon that’s got my body and my memories and still kind of thinks it’s me enough to want to kill you. He looked down, then back up at Karofsky. “It’s me. Listen...” He paused and licked his lips. “I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
Karofsky peered down skeptically. “Talk about what?”
Spike had decided to move around the corner, where he was invisible. Kurt was alone. Alone with David Karofsky. And he wasn’t scared anymore.
“I wanted to... apologize.”
Dave looked at him with wide eyes, then turned and checked behind him, as if he were afraid of being overheard. “Okay,” he half-whispered. “The door’s probably locked. Just wait there, okay?”
“Okay,” Kurt answered, and Dave disappeared. Excitement was building in his chest - his heart would have been beating hard, but of course it didn’t, anymore. He walked over to where he could see Spike, and looked at him questioningly.
Spike nodded. “That should do it.” His mouth widened into a smile, and Kurt found himself grinning back.
He stood by the door for maybe a minute before it opened, while Spike stayed off by the side. “You’ll do fine, kid,” he offered, when Kurt looked a little uncertain. “You’re not quite human anymore, remember? Not much he can do to you now.” Kurt swallowed and smiled. He was excited, but his body must still associate Dave Karofsky with fear, somehow.
Finally he heard the sound of the lock, and the door opened slowly. Karofsky was wearing sweatpant shorts and a T-shirt that read “Community 5K Finisher!” in cheerful purple letters. He looked somehow much smaller than Kurt had expected. Maybe that came with being a vampire.
“Come inside,” Karofsky whispered. “We can talk in my room, just be quiet until we get there.” He seemed almost hopeful, which wasn’t an expression Kurt could remember seeing on him before...but then was anything, other than stupid, hateful rage?
“Okay,” Kurt said, and followed him quietly in through the hallway and up the stairs, and into a bedroom that looked like it could belong to any sports-obsessed teenage boy.
“You can, you know, sit down, if you want.” Karofsky gestured at the bed. Kurt shook his head. “I’m fine.” He didn’t really want to sit on the bed that this guy had just been sleeping in. Not that it mattered, if he was about to bite him...Kurt fought down a shudder. He wanted it, he reminded himself. He could just wring Karofsky’s neck, but it wouldn’t be the same. The problem was, the involuntary intimacy went both ways, and he thought probably vampires must get used to biting people’s necks eventually, but right now, it was his first time. And he’d have to get so close, touch his skin...he shrugged, and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.
Dave sat sideways a bit closer to the foot end, one leg curled up on the blanket. “So...why are you here? It’s the middle of the night.”
Kurt bit his lip and said nothing about the obviousness of that observation. “I’ve been thinking, I guess? About what happened and...I think I changed my mind about it.”
Dave’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes widened in fear. “You’re telling them.”
“If I were, would I come here to warn you?” Kurt touched his own neck absent-mindedly. “I could just do it without walking all the way here, in, like you so cleverly noticed, the middle of the night.”
“Maybe you just wanted to give me a chance to kill myself first,” Dave mumbled. “Maybe you wanted to watch or something.”
Kurt tilted his head and smiled. An amusing guess, under the circumstances. “No. Guess again.”
“It’s what I would have done,” Dave continued. “If I were you. I’d just want to get even.”
“Yes, well, I’m not you. Thank God.”
They were quiet for a second. Dave didn’t even seem offended, he just nodded slowly.
Kurt drew a long breath. “I just,” he began, “I think... I might want to get even in a different way.” He lifted a hand, reaching out for Dave’s shoulder.
There was a long second of eye contact. Dave didn’t move, and Kurt watched him, feeling something rise and rise inside him...and then he changed. It was the strangest feeling, and once it happened, he forgot to be disgusted by the idea of putting his mouth on Dave’s neck. He just wanted blood, and after that, everything happened very quickly.
In just a few minutes, he was standing outside again, slumping against the wall of the house.
“Wow,” he breathed, looking over at Spike, who had been waiting for him under a tree in the yard. He was smoking another cigarette and smiling fondly at Kurt.
“I can’t believe I really did that.”
“You really did,” Spike agreed.
Kurt didn’t respond for a moment, just staring into the air in front of him and nodding slowly. There was a small smile on his face.
Spike walked over and put an arm around him. “I don’t even remember my first anymore, you know?”
“You don’t?” Kurt asked.
Spike leaned in closer, and Kurt thought he felt a very light kiss on his cheek, though he could have imagined it. “No,” he whispered.
Kurt looked up through the dark branches of the trees. The sky was starting to get a little lighter.
“I made him drink my blood,” he whispered. “I don’t...”
He didn’t get to finish telling Spike that he had no real idea why he did it and that he didn’t exactly know what it would do, because Spike was grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him around to face him.
“You did what? You bloody idiot. You did not. Tell me that was a very bad joke.”
Kurt stared helplessly at him.
“Not really?”
Spike sighed. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m going to be a grandsire.” He patted Kurt’s shoulder in a way that felt more like a slap. “Congratulations, teen dad.”
Kurt’s eyes widened even more. “Do you mean I turned him?”
“You sound more pleased and less terrified than I’d say you ought to be,” Spike observed. “You know what, this is your trouble, you get to deal with it. The big dead guy up there will wake up any time from six to sixty hours from now. Probably. Cheers!”
He turned around and started walking.
“No, wait,” Kurt called after him. “You can’t leave me with this.”
He managed to follow Spike for a little while, but he never caught up, and soon he was just trailing what he thought might have been a shadow in one direction or the other.
The sky was even lighter. The sun might be up in another few hours, Kurt guessed, but he hadn’t really ever paid much attention to things like that. He turned around reluctantly and started walking back the way he came, feeling desperately alone and abandoned.
Part Three
Kurt kept walking, terribly conscious of the gradually lighter sky in the east. It was still dark, but soon he’d have to admit to twilight and then sunrise. It was a clear morning and it would be a bright day, which in his old life would have made him happy. Now, it only fed the cold fear that had dug its claws firmly into his chest.
He wasn’t exactly sure what would happen to a new vampire exposed to sunlight, but he was fairly certain it wouldn’t be good. He kept walking, looking for places to hide away, and not finding any. The friendly little residential streets were not for lingering; people here were going from somewhere to somewhere else and a pale young boy stopping and sitting down anywhere would be much too conspicuous. He sighed. Maybe there was a reason you didn’t hear much about small town vampires.
Kurt was startled out of his thoughts by the approach of an early morning runner, a woman in shorts, wearing a baseball cap and headphones. She nodded at him without seeming to pay him much attention, and he nodded back. He didn’t recognize her, so she must not be someone who would know he was supposed to be dead. Another good reason to get out of town, he realized. Maybe he could still get out of here. Go to New York. There would be no college, no Broadway, he supposed, but he could make new plans...a place that big would have to have an underworld of a sorts, where undead boys from Ohio could find a place?
He looked at a street sign and realized he was getting close to his old home. A bit further down that side street, a man with a dog was walking slowly in his direction.
It might be time for desperate measures. He remembered his dad’s little shed at the back of the garage. Burt didn’t come in there very often. If he could sneak in there right now, before most people were awake, and stayed very quiet for a while until everybody was out of the house, he could probably hide out there until dusk.
Kurt was relieved for about five seconds until he realized that, though it was not exactly a house, the shed might still count as home enough to require an invitation. He needed a public place. One where nobody would recognize him, or where he could hide well enough to not be found. Panic rose in his throat again, and he swallowed, refocus, and mentally ran through his list of hiding places. It was a short one.
School, he thought. School is a public place. One where everybody knows me and knows I’m supposed to be dead, and for all I know they’re having some kind of horrible memorial today where the people who made my life hell will have to pretend to be sad that it’s over.
Could he get in early and just lock himself in the bathroom all day? No, too risky. Steal a car and get the hell out of town? It was a tempting thought. He could even steal his own car, he supposed, but that involved the same problem of getting into the garage. Come to think of it, he had no idea if his dad even kept it there anymore.
Kurt sighed. He was probably going to die (again). Or burn, or whatever vampires did when they got caught in sunlight. It made him angry, to think that this second chance at a sort of life would be over so quickly, just because of his irresponsible sire and his temper. So what if he’d made a mistake; he hadn’t exactly known what he was doing. It was Spike’s fault for not telling him, really. Kurt straightened and looked around him. No. I’m not giving up this easily.
He looked down the street. The neighbors two houses down drove an ancient Lincoln Continental that he might be able to hotwire, and, he thought, were the kind of people who might leave their car unlocked, correctly assuming that only the very desperate would want to steal it.
It wasn’t really dark anymore at all, the sun must be very close to rising, and he didn’t have time to waste. He walked quickly over to the neighbor’s drive, found the car outside, glanced at the windows and saw no light or movement. Okay. He could do this. He’d figured out how when he was about thirteen and eager to know all there was to know about cars. His dad had actually approved and taught him some tricks, correctly assuming that Kurt wasn’t really the type to get into the car theft business.
He tried the handle. It stuck a little, and at first he thought it must be locked, but when he lifted it again and pulled a little harder, the door opened. Yes. He got into the driver’s seat, rooted around in the various junk until he found something sufficiently tool-like for his purposes, and quickly went through the steps he’d never actually tried in practice. With a little bit of fumbling, he found the right wires, and gingerly touched them together. The sound of the engine starting was startling, he apparently hadn’t really expected to make it work on the first try. I guess there’s something to be said for being raised in a garage, he thought, triumphantly.
Kurt turned out on the street and followed it down to the main road while trying to guess whether he’d be okay inside a car, or if sunlight filtered through a window would still hurt him, and make a decision about where to go. Not too far; he still felt that odd sense of responsibility for Karofsky, and he wanted to be back in town by nightfall, just in case.
There was a spot outside of town, he realized, that teenagers of the kind that Kurt decidedly wasn’t would drive out to when they had nowhere else to go. There were trees that would provide shade, it would be deserted during the day, and though the police would likely drive by in the evenings hoping to catch someone enjoying whatever drugs or alcohol they’d been able to illegally acquire, but he couldn’t imagine them bothering during daytime. He headed that way, found the area empty as expected, and parked his car under some tall, dense trees.
He sat tensely, his thoughts going around in frantic circles, until he was sure the sun was up and he hadn’t gone up in flame, and stayed there, not exactly sleeping, but resting and letting his thoughts wander and alternately feeling terrified and desperately bored, until the clock on the old radio read 8:45. It wasn’t dark, exactly, but there was no more sunlight, and he thought it might be time to head back into town to keep watch over Dave Karofsky.
What an absurd thought, he reflected, as he drove towards his old home. And where would he be, by now? They surely wouldn’t leave his body lying around his bedroom all day, unless his parents were absent or indifferent enough not to have noticed, but Kurt thought that was unlikely. He should probably just hang around the house, like Spike had done for him, and wait for an angry, newly awake vampire Karofsky to come looking for his parents. It was a rather daunting idea, but Kurt didn’t know what else to do, so he left the car a couple of blocks away and walked over to the house. He felt a lot more self-conscious hiding in somebody’s back yard at 9:30 than he had in the middle of the night, but maybe he had some of those vampire stealth powers without even knowing it? In the end, nobody was around to notice him, and he took the risk of sneaking around the house to the spot where Spike had been waiting for him last night.
Kurt missed Spike, he realized. He felt drawn to him in a way that wasn’t really explainable in any way other than the supernatural pull towards the vampire who turned him, like a little kid missing his dad...except it was not quite like that. It was more like...how he’d felt about Finn, maybe, or Puck, when they were still throwing him into dumpsters. Attraction in spite of better knowledge. He sighed. Spike wasn’t here, anyway, he probably wasn’t coming back, and it was up to Kurt to finish what he’d started. Maybe if he did it well, Spike would somehow find out and be proud of him. Kurt would be a vampire prodigy, the boy who turned someone on his first night out and made it work. He brightened at the thought, and leaned back against the tree with a small smile on his face. Karofsky was just a bully, a scared little boy who didn’t know what he was doing and couldn’t handle how helpless and future-less he actually was. With his one day advantage of vampire experience, Kurt should be able to handle that.
He stood under the tree for what seemed like hours, he wasn’t sure, not having a phone or a watch - he should probably try to find a way to get those, eventually, if he was going to keep doing this. Nothing much moved, but with his heightened senses Kurt was aware of all the little animals near him, mice and squirrels and a cat in the garden across the street, and of people moving inside their houses. The Karofsky house was quiet, but he could tell there were people inside. They were probably in shock, Kurt thought, grieving for their dead son, having no idea that he was not exactly dead and could be expected back any time, eager to rip their throats out.
There was a noise in the bushes behind him, and Kurt turned, but didn’t see anything. He kept an eye on them for a while after that, but it didn’t happen again.
The sky went dark, and the moon came out, and Kurt kept waiting. Then, eventually, he heard steps on a sidewalk. He turned his head expectantly, and, sure enough, the large, clumsy figure of Dave Karofsky was approaching.
Okay, this was it. Kurt moved around a bit, feeling like he should be warming up for this, tough there was probably no need, with his new general lack of circulation and body heat.
Karofsky kept walking with heavy steps, until he was standing in the driveway with a look on his face that was frighteningly familiar. Kurt stayed hidden for a few seconds longer. Then he stepped uncertainly out and walked over to where Karofsky was standing, staring up at his old window.
“Um... hi,” Kurt said, feeling like it was sadly mundane for a vampire greeting his newest convert, but not really knowing what else to say. Nobody had really had time to teach him the etiquette, had they.
Karofsky turned and growled at him. “You,” he said, “you fucking little faggot. You tricked me.” He reached out and placed a heavy hand on Kurt’s arm. “You’re disgusting,” he spat out. “And you thought you’d show up here and -- what, make me just as disgusting as you are? Make me like it?” He pushed Kurt away roughly, making him stumble back a step. “And what are you, anyway?”
This really wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Vampire,” Kurt offered. “So are you, now. Better get used to it.” He shrugged.
“Vampire,” Karofsky nodded. “Sure.” He squinted. “Wait. You...bit me. I remember now. That’s what felt so...” He stared down at Kurt with an unreadable expression. “You really are a fucking vampire. And you bit me and made me one, too.” His gaze drifted back towards the house. “Is that why all I want to do, other than choke your weak little fag throat, is to break down that door and bite my mom and dad to death?”
“Yes,” Kurt confirmed. “Probably.”
He had planned to do what Spike had done for him, explain that it was the demon, that Karofsky didn’t really want to rip his parents’ throats out, but he wasn’t actually completely certain that was true, and secondly, the other alternative Karofsky had mentioned didn’t exactly appeal to him.
Karofsky went quiet, and the angry grimace faded from his face. He stood there for a few seconds with an unfocused look in his eyes, like he was thinking hard, or maybe trying to decide what exactly he was feeling. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. He blinked, locked his eyes on Kurt, and nodded. “Okay, I believe you.”
Kurt stared back, confused by the sudden change in attitude. Karofsky ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
“Fuck,” he said. “All right, so assuming the movies don’t lie, I’m allergic to daylight now and I can’t go in without an invitation.”
Kurt was a little annoyed that Karofsky, who had never exactly been the sharpest mind around, was catching on so much faster than he had himself.
“I thought you’d be angrier,” he muttered.
“I feel okay, you know? Like...I’m still angry, but it’s different. I don’t care so much anymore.” Karofsky shrugged.
Kurt studied him. “After I was turned, I stopped feeling guilty about stuff,” he suggested, as if less than 24 hours of being a vampire made him an expert on the experience.
Karofsky nodded slowly. “I guess.” He looked back at the house where his parents were sleeping. “I still really want to kill them.”
Kurt shifted his weight to the other foot. “So did I, but Spike - the guy who turned me - said you don’t really, it’s just the demon. He said I shouldn’t give in to it.” He didn’t have much hope of convincing Karofsky not to commit acts of violence, but he should probably give it a shot. And he had to admit, Karofsky seemed a bit different. Maybe, if good people made evil vampires, awful people would be milder ones? It would make a sort of twisted sense. “What else do you want?” he asked, trying for redirection.
Karofsky moved a step closer, and looked down at Kurt. He didn’t seem angry anymore. Was this how Kurt had been looking at Spike? And was it for the same reason, or just leftover pieces of his old feelings?
“I want you,” he said, scrunching his eyebrows. “It’s...I actually want you.” He leaned in, and Kurt was reminded horribly of that moment in the locker room.
“No,” he said, pushing Karofsky away. “No, you can’t do that.”
Karofsky grabbed his shoulders. “Why not? Think you can stop me? No guilt, remember?” He put one big hand on the back of Kurt’s head. “I bet I’m still stronger than you,” he whispered.
Then there was a rustling sound like somebody pushing through leaves and branches, and Karofsky was being pulled away from his body.
“Spike!” he cried out happily, recognizing the man who had burst out from the bushes where he must have been hiding the whole time. Spike ignored him, though, focusing on Karofsky, who he was improbably holding still with a hand on his throat, like he wasn’t twice his size. Karofsky gasped for air.
“You may be bigger than me,” Spike told him conversationally, “but a couple hundred years of experience really helps, you know.” He nodded at Kurt. “And this boy here, he’s mine.” He pushed Karofsky aside and put his arms around Kurt, planting a long, lingering kiss on his lips.
Kurt was stunned, but he found he didn’t mind. It was a good kiss, as far as he could tell, certainly much better than anything he’d had before. He looked at Spike with wide eyes. He wasn’t so sure about being his, but he could appreciate being saved from Karofsky.
Spike kept an arm around Kurt, closely tucking him to his side, and turned to Karofsky again. “It’s not the end of the world, kid,” he said, smirking. “Lots of pretty boys of there for you, you know. I might even be convinced to share, but I’d definitely have to be introduced, first.”
“Not your decision,” Kurt muttered, but Spike kept talking.
“I’m Spike, Kurt here’s my most newly sired vampire. I understand you two know each other.”
“He’s a bully,” Kurt continued. “He’s awful.”
“Love, give him a chance. You’re stuck with him, you might as well try to get along.” Spike smiled sardonically. “Anyway, morals don’t matter so much anymore, do they? And dare I say, he seems almost embarrassingly decent, for a soulless demon.” He looked over at Karofsky, curiously. “I’m so sorry, you still didn’t get a chance to tell me your name?”
“Dave,” answered Karofsky, reaching out a hand that Spike took and shook enthusiastically. “Dave Karofsky.”
“Nice to meet you, Dave,” said Spike, and received matching glares. Kurt’s was more pouty while Dave leaned towards grumpy, but Spike beamed back at them. “Did I mention to you I’m not exactly a regular vampire? Oh, never mind, I’ll explain as we go.”
Spike didn’t wait for an answer before he started walking determinedly down the sidewalk. Dave shuffled reluctantly after him, not really looking at either him or Kurt. Kurt stood still for a moment longer, feeling stung and not a little betrayed. But was it worth fighting over?
He didn’t like the idea of depending on Spike. The man was already acting like Kurt was more or less his possession, and Kurt definitely felt tempted to walk off in the opposite direction, just to show him. The trouble was, the last day had made it obvious that while he probably could make his way without Spike, it would be difficult and uncomfortable. And he didn’t want to, he admitted to himself. He felt drawn to Spike, an strange and annoying impulse. Okay, he told himself. I’ll go with him, for now. Indulge that stupid desire to follow. He could learn everything he needed, and then, when he was strong enough, he’d make it clear that he was in charge of himself and on his way to greater things and places. He started walking, but stayed a good distance behind Dave again.
They walked for two blocks in no obvious direction that Kurt recognized. He itched to ask wait, where are we going? or even worse, are we there yet?, but he resisted. For another block, they kept walking like that. Spike in front, not looking back even once - either he was confident that they would follow, or he didn’t care, or possibly his vampire senses made turning around unnecessary. About five steps behind him, Dave. Behind him again there was Kurt, trying and failing to look around him but unwilling to pass.
Another block, still no explanation. Kurt had had enough. He cut across a corner of lawn to catch up with Spike, and kept walking beside him on the grass. “Do you have a destination in mind, or are we just out walking for the exercise?”
“I thought by now you might have realized that this town, while charming, might now be the place you want to stay for the rest of your potentially eternal existence.” Spike put a hand on Kurt’s lower back. Of course, he only accepted it because he knew Dave was behind them, watching.
“I have a car,” Kurt pointed out, “it’s not like I was planning to stick around.”
“Oh, really? Well done.” Spike nodded, like this was the first time he’d considered how Kurt would have made it through that first day on his own. “Anyway, before I unexpectedly acquired this delightful little family, I was planning to head back to Cleveland. I’m resigned to taking you with me, and so we’re going to pick up my car. Which is where I left it, and I suspect unlike yours, not obviously stolen.”
That was a good point, but if they had a theoretically unlimited lifespan, superhuman strength, no real need for physical comforts or food beyond what you could kill yourself, why would you possibly settle for the second largest city in Ohio?
“Just wondering,” he asked, “why did you pick that place? It seems like there would be more interesting places to go.”
Spike glanced over at him. “I promise you, there’s plenty of interesting.”
Kurt raised his eyebrows. “Please enlighten me.”
“Demons? Alternate dimensions? The Great Lakes Theater Festival? Oh, look, here’s my car.” It was a rather ordinary and maybe a little beat-up one, the only remarkable thing about it being the dark tinted windows. They stopped, and Dave, who had been walking silently behind them for this whole conversation, caught up with them.
Spike nodded, satisfied, and gestured at the car. “If you’d care to join me, gentlemen, I’m sure the three of us will have so much fun.”