Disclaimer - I don't own anything Glee

Hello!

I know a lot of people have probably given up on this fic, but I also know a lot of you are still waiting for the ending to this train wreck.
I wont lie, I struggle writing this, which is why its taken me this long. I just didn't have the words. But I've been working at it little by little over all this time and below is what I have for now so I wanted to share it.
This fic is NOT abandoned! I know it may seem that way but I really do want to finish it! That being said, anyone posting my story on other sites I would appreciate if you could take it down, please and thank you.
I came across someone who had copied my story with the intention of writing their own ending and while I am flattered they like it that much and linked my original, I don't consent for my work being on other sites.

I don't know when the next part will be up, I cant make any promises, but know I will be working on it.
Love to you all, thank you for all the kind messages you sent in encouragement while you waited so patiently, I hope this is even half worth the time you put into it

"The wards are down," Hunter said in the after effects of the rumble as they rushed through the corridors, checking doors methodically and dealing with any captives or threats they ran across.

Luckily the resistance inside was next to nothing. Blaine had effectively drawn their attention, but Sebastian still had his father's gun, and the single dart left in it, tucked at the small of his back ready for an emergency regardless. He'd even picked up a short sword from a rogue, it matched quite well with the hand axe Hunter had lifted from that lunatic in the prison.

They'd found a lot of the rooms they were keeping the blood slaves in and let them know they were to lay low, the only ones unreceptive to that idea being Kessa Verlain- who pretty much nearly took his head off rushing past him- and Burt Hummel who they couldn't convince to stay put for anything. They'd armed him with a weapon before he took off- Hunter visibly conflicted as he watched him disappear.

"You know you don't have to act all pissy," he found himself commenting as they came up empty on yet another room, pausing only to double check there weren't any secret rooms or passages.

Hunter hefted a bookcase out of the way to check behind, but said nothing in response.

"You seriously wanted me to fall on my sword and be thrown in that cell with you?" Sebastian asked incredulously as he watched Hunter casing the room. "I told you before, I don't step in front of bullets for other people."

"Why did you even bother coming back then?" Hunter asked, finally facing him and raising an eyebrow.

Because I wanted to prove you wrong. I didn't want you to think that about me. I fucking hate you but I don't at the same time and it's driving me insane.

Sebastian's mouth suddenly felt dry and he licked his lips. "I've come to the conclusion that I don't want any part of this freak show any more than I want a part of yours. So right now, I need you guys to get me out of here so I can disappear somewhere you crazy assholes aren't."

Hunter snorted in a way that clearly said he didn't believe him and led the way out of the door, headed for the next which was around the corner.

"Yeah, well, fuck you too!" he said to his back, face becoming flushed. "You and that stick up your ass ca-"

"Shhh!" Hunter hushed sharply.

Sebastian was tempted to speak louder just to be contrary but he wasn't stupid. He halted in his tracks, coming up beside the blonde who had his gaze fixed around the corner. Sebastian peeked out himself.

Bingo.

"This has been the only door that's been guarded other than the prison," Sebastian murmured, echoing Hunter's silent conclusion. He pulled his head back and looked at the side of Hunter's face. "I think we've hit the jackpot. We'll take care of these guards and then release the heavy hitters."

"Not so fast. They're packing," Hunter said and gestured with his chin.

Sebastian's eyes finally drew on the guns at their hips. One's that looked remarkably similar to the one sitting at the small of his back. "Shit."

He looked harder at the guards and realisation struck. Of course it had to be Gerald the mountain vampire and Asshole who hated me from earlier, just my luck, he thought dispassionately.

"I do not think I would appreciate being hit twice in one day by that substance," Hunter said dryly and Sebastian actually huffed a laugh. "We'll use your gun."

That stopped the laughter and Sebastian frowned at him, grabbing the back of his jumper and hauling him back around. "I've got one dart left. There's two of them. The math doesn't add up, chief."

"If you get close enough you can grab one of theirs," Hunter said simply, looking him square in the eyes, heedless of their close proximity.

"And just when did this become a suicide mission for me?" he hissed.

Hunter reached around him and grasped the gun's handle and Sebastian hitched a breath as the back of his fingers met bare skin, making it tingle. "Since you can approach them under the guise of being an ally and I can't," he said lowly, bringing his arm back around with the gun in his hand. He pressed it to his chest in the scant space between them. "Ready?"

"Why are you trusting me with this?" he asked incredulously.

"You 'need us' to get out of here… right?" Hunter repeated, arching a brow, those green eyes discerning things that Sebastian felt he didn't even know himself. He didn't have a ready retort or witty comeback on the tip of his tongue and his silence only served to make Hunter even more confident in his silent assertions. "So… ready?"

Sebastian didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him that he nodded like a mindless moron. The idea of seeing that disappointed, resigned look in Hunter's eyes again turned his stomach… but no, no, he didn't care, he was doing this to get himself out, he reminded himself. But as he stepped around the corner and two heads swivelled to face him, hands reaching for their side-arms, Sebastian knew he was a mindless moron about to do something he'd just said he wouldn't.

Step in front of a bullet for someone else.

"Hey!" Sebastian called chidingly, hands raised up with the gun still held in one. "Friendly fire."

"What the hell are you doing here, Smythe?" Asshole growled, hand twitching on his weapon and thin face tightening in suspicion.

He knew better than to lie and say Marcus had sent him when the vampire himself may be still around here. "My father sent me to check on how things were going. He even gave me his gun so I wouldn't feel left out," he added for credence to his story, giving the thing a shake.

"You're better off outside," the rogue growled, grinding his back teeth. "Or better yet, find out what the hell just made the house shake."

"Well if I could just peek my head inside and ch-"

"They're being moved. No one is supposed to go in there until Marcus gets back," Gerald said placidly, hulking form rippling with muscle from the tiniest shift of weight from him.

Sebastian swallowed and watched his arm nervously even though Asshole was the one more likely to have the trigger finger. "I could cover-"

"What part of no don't you get, Smythe?" the lanky vampire growled, eyeing him up and down. "Why do you need to get inside so badly? Want to help our precious Council?"

Sebastian gave a fake laugh and took a step closer. "If that was my intention then I would have tried that when my father first turned up at the tower."

Asshole drew his weapon and levelled it at his chest. "Back off."

He froze: having no idea what he could do from this point when a loud, "Hey!" was called from behind him.

Sebastian used the split second of inattention to fire his last dart at Gerald and drop the gun to free his hand up to grab Asshole's outstretched one. The gun came free and he turned it quickly and shot. Gerald fell to the floor with a heavy thud next to his companion.

The whole thing was over in a matter of seconds.

"Well… that was easier than expected," Sebastian commented in surprise, eyeing the new gun in his hand.

Fights, historically, didn't go well for him. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Let's go," Hunter asserted, stooping low to pick up the other gun before reaching for the door handle.

It dropped.

What they walked into was like something out of a sick nightmare. The room was large, dark and had been stripped bare of any furnishings it had once held and replaced by a mockery of what looked like a hospital and lab mashed together. One wall was lined with complicated looking medical and science equipment: computers on and running programmes Sebastian had no idea how to interpret, while beakers and tubes filled with unknown liquids lined most of the counter space.

That all paled in comparison to the main attraction of the room, however.

There on various beds lined up in parallel lines were the recognisable figures of the unconscious Council and right next to each of them was what had to be the rare Shifters the Rogues had found. And they were what was really hard to look at. Each emaciated Shifter was strapped down with tubes and wires protruding from their almost skeletal frames speaking of prolonged abuse. Some of the tubes went directly to the Council member next to them and others led towards the equipment by the beds and walls. It looked like they were being sucked empty.

Sebastian had to look away.

"Oh… shit…" he breathed, eyes lighting on the crumpled figure that had been heaped in a pile in the corner of the room like an afterthought.

Hunter followed his gaze and inhaled sharply. "Marisol."

He sped over and turned her twisted body towards him searching for signs of life. Deep in the pit of his stomach Sebastian knew that he wouldn't find any and he hated that it made sense to him. That her pale, ashen face could be explained away under the simple reason that she just wasn't important enough to waste resources on. That her continued existence could be boiled down to a series of facts: she wasn't important enough to know information the way the Council and even Cooper did. The people she could be used against to blackmail were either already in their grasp or, in the case of Blaine, they had found a better bargaining chip in Kurt. It didn't make sense to keep her under and waste what was obviously a dying resource by the look of the Shifters in this room on someone who gained them nothing. She couldn't even be used as a source of food.

He dragged his hands through his hair and swallowed heavily as he watched Hunter lay her out with the gentlest of care in a more dignified pose, feeling something uncomfortable crawling under his skin. He wanted to demand that she wake up so it could go away.

"I think she may still have been unconscious when it happened," Hunter said softly, crossing her hands over her chest.

"Is that supposed to make you feel better," Sebastian sneered, feeling rage bubble up under the surface and not knowing why. Growling he turned on his heel and put his back to the sight, heading for the tables that had the Shifters on. He had seen death, he didn't know why this was so disquieting. Yes, she was innocent, but she was nothing to him, he shouldn't be bothered.

"No! Don't!"

Sebastian froze with his hand on a wire and looked over his shoulder at Hunter who had come to his feet, a deep crease between his brows. "We don't know which ones of these are keeping them alive. If we start pulling wires and tubes out… they might die."

"You're saying we should leave them like this, Mr High and Mighty? Leave in the things that are sucking them dry?" he snapped incredulously, the twisted tableau around them making his tongue loose.

"They're being sustained somehow and we need a doctor to tell us how," Hunter said firmly, moving towards the Council. "We should be fine to remove these, however."

"You sure about that? I thought we needed a doctor," he drawled sarcastically.

"Take the tubes out," Hunter ordered, not rising to the bait, already moving over Ophelia and systematically unplugging everything. "If they have to keep the supply of poison consistently entering their bloodstream then I think it's safe to say that the effects don't last that long on powerful bloodlines."

Sebastian clenched his jaw but got to work, setting aside his gun so he had two hands to work, passively noticing Hunter doing the same.

He just got finished with Cooper in the corner closest to the door when he felt the weight of the sword at his hip being lifted. He span quickly and barely had time to register just where that blade was now pointing and move in front of Hunter before that sword was being drove straight into his chest by the man that had sired him.

"Sebastian!" Hunter cried out, but the voice was muffled like he was shouting at him through water.

Sebastian looked down at the sword that had cut through him like butter, hands coming up to surround the wound. He dazedly looked back up, stumbling on his feet. Walter was covered head to toe in blood, face sluggishly healing bruises and gashes, his fang still chipped from Nick's feral attack, but the bastard was smiling with his hand on the hilt of that sword. "I was planning a grander death for you but since you insist," he purred, pushing the blade deeper as he leaned closer to his ear. "You tried to betray me, son of mine?"

Sebastian dropped to his knees, the white hot sensation in his chest impeding his ability to breath and Walter let him fall as he defended himself against Hunter's vicious attack.

The vampire flew at his father, with no sense of planning and none of the strictness he had come to expect from him. He was working on blind rage and he swung his axe wildly, going for maximum impact.

Walter suffered under the blows simply because they were unpredictable and he couldn't completely get out of the way in time, but Sebastian could see, even with his darkening vision, that the elder was losing his patience. Hunter came in close, fangs bared and Walter struck, planting a foot in the middle of his chest and sending him careening into a gurney, axe flying out of his hands. Wires came loose and an alarm sounded so loud from one of the corresponding machines that Sebastian expected the room to flood with Rogues in seconds.

Hunter regained some semblance of sanity back through the hit and reached for the dart gun that had fallen to the floor next to him, but was swiftly blocked, Walter's foot coming down so forcefully on his hand that the gun snapped under the breaking of his bones. Hunter cried out and Sebastian with him, helpless to do anything as he tried to find his feet and failed over and over, listing to the side with blood pouring from him creating a pool around where he was sitting.

Even with Walter already injured it wasn't a fair fight. Hunter was older than Nick in years was but his bloodline wasn't as old so his attacks didn't have the extra power behind them to throw his father off balance. Walter was totally prepared this time to fight and though he lacked any of the finesse Hunter had, his father was able to use brute, superior strength to bear to pummel him into submission.

Hunter tried to flex his broken hand to get a hold of some of the darts inside the chamber of the broken weapon only for Walter to kick him out of the way. He skidded across the floor, knocking another gurney askew.

"Ah, ah, ah. None of that now," Walter tsked.

Hunter grit his teeth, his eyes connecting momentarily with Sebastian's. Something weighted passed between them, weightier than the sword rammed into his chest, and he watched Hunter's eyes darken further like he'd seen Nick's do. It must have been a trick or the light… or his failing vision.

Hunter pulled himself upwards and rushed Walter, staying low. They crashed into a gurney and Ophelia's limp body thumped to the floor. Walter shoved him away and swung the axe he had picked up, blunt side first, into his temple. Blood sprayed and arced with the hit and Hunter was left disoriented and stumbling, finally falling to hands and knees and retching.

The sight of that hurt worse than the sword in his chest that was filling his lungs and mouth with blood.

"L-leave him alone," he coughed over the metallic sting, hand grasping weakly at the hilt of the weapon. "He had… n-nothing to… do with it."

Walter gave him a disgusted sneer over his shoulder. "Oh I doubt that very much. What… you think I didn't know? As if that little noble display right then wasn't clue enough. Like I didn't spot the minute you stepped off that elevator what he meant to you. As ever, it will take more than your mediocrity to slip something past me. Now hush while I take care of the mess you made, hm?"

He turned his back to him and stood over Hunter who was still on his hands and knees swaying dizzily from the blow to the head. His father raised the axe over his head and Sebastian couldn't stand it.

He's taken everything from me. Drove away anyone I might have cared for, who might have cared for me. He can't have this… this is mine!

The next thing Sebastian knew he'd grabbed the sword in his chest by the hilt and drawn it out on a silent scream and ran it though his father's stomach with the rest of his waning strength.

The axe dropped to the ground next to Hunter and his father's shocked gasp filled the silent room.

Leaning on it for support Sebastian twisted the handle and whispered, "I don't need you cleaning up my messes, father."

He leaned more weight on it before drawing it out with all his strength and swinging it with every ounce he had left in him; using every drop of hatred and frustration and determination that had built up over these long years as fuel.

His father's rolling head was the last thing he saw before he dropped to the ground utterly spent, locked into his fate, but no longer tied down.

.

Blaine battled his way through the carnage just inside the main door of the building, relieved in the back of his mind to see his friends alive even when they were fighting for their lives, bodies littering the ground at their feet.

Marcus was waiting for him in the middle of it all.

There was an invisible circle surrounding him that none of those present dared to breach; not to engage or defend.

The urgent tugging in his chest was gone now and Blaine was losing his mind with what it could mean, refusing to accept the possibility that it was something to do with Kurt. Just concentrate, he coached himself meeting Marcus' amused gaze that was laser focused on him.

"Looking a little rough there, Blaine," he taunted, eyes tracking over his body and the various wounds that hadn't healed yet: the most noticeable the gouge in his arm that was still dripping blood onto the floor.

"This is between me and you," Blaine said, not rising to the bait. "Call them off."

Marcus barked out a laugh. "Oh you amusing little thing. Whatever gave you the idea that this was about you? You've served your purpose quite well I must say, but you're hardly a prominent player in this game."

Blaine studied the dissembling words and for some reason didn't quite believe him even though he didn't understand what he was referring to.

"Then it shouldn't bother you to deal with me by yourself then. Quick and easy. Put the littlest Anderson in his place," he challenged loudly and every Rogue in the room perked up and took notice. "Or are you too scared?" he added on, to seal the deal. It was challenge 101, but he knew it would work.

Marcus knew it too and smirked wryly. "Well played." He clicked his fingers. "Take it outside."

The Rogues knew better, or were simply too scared of their leader to argue the point and quickly disengaged and shuffled their way outside stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades carelessly.

"You too," Blaine said to his friends.

"Blaine-" Wes started, wiping an errant streak of blood –his or an enemy's he couldn't tell- but he gave him a harsh glance that locked the words in his throat. "There's something you need to know-"

"Wes, no," Jeff cut in rapidly, emerging from the corner behind a feral looking Nick, face drawn and pale. "He needs to concentrate right now."

"How touching," Marcus drawled, focusing in on the blonde who flinched away. "How did you escape from Walter's clutches, little one? Not to his taste?"

Nick snarled and Luna and Wes grabbed him by the arms before he could attack while Jeff hushed him from in front, hands cupping his cheeks and making him focus on him.

"Get him outside," Blaine said.

They need help out there, he sent to Wes.

What about you? You can't beat him

I know. I can stall long enough to give you guys a chance to get away though-

Screw that! Wes interrupted the thought forcefully. We have people inside searching out the Council. Hold on until we can get someone else to you. Adam is behind the north east door

Blaine sent him a silent look to tell him he understood.

"Where is Walter Smythe?" Luna surprised them by asking Marcus directly, her dark eyes calculating.

He lifted an eyebrow in answer.

"I would have his head this night," she said blandly. "He dared to take from me."

"Well I'm sure he's very sorry," Marcus told her, the laughter in his tone barely contained. "Now are you staying or not? I could always call back my friends if this is to be a party…"

"Luna," Wes snapped. "Let's go."

She snarled but backed off and helped haul Nick out of the front door.

Look out for an ambush, Blaine sent after them as he waited until they were clear. He turned back to Marcus who was regarding him curiously but seemed in no hurry to speak or act. Even inside the house they could still hear the sounds of battle drifting in from outside and he prayed to the god's to look over his friends out there.

He did a quick scan of the room, noting the Rogue bodies on the floor and various exits, roaming his gaze over the door Adam was hidden behind just to mark in his mind where it was.

"Is the place not what you were expecting?" Marcus asked, his voice a shock when it came, so much so that Blaine tensed up.

"I wasn't expecting an evil castle if that's what you're asking," he stated. "I didn't expect you to be in New York right under my brother's nose, however. Though no one could properly account for your whereabouts anywhere," he admitted.

Marcus smiled. "I had a sudden desire to cultivate my elusive personality when the war ended."

"Right," he said flatly, trying not to react when he saw the door ease open behind Marcus's right shoulder.

"So, not using your secret weapon? Or have you run out already? I imagine equipping a whole army with it must have your resources stretched pretty thin," Blaine taunted, keeping his eyes on Marcus and trying to keep his on him while Adam snuck up from behind.

"There are only so many appropriate Shifter's in the world," Marcus conceded, hands moving to rest on his hips casually. "Unless we were ready to breed them, getting the necessary production out of them is a slow process. Synthetic reproductions haven't been promising thus far."

"Shame."

Marcus shrugged, truly looking nonplussed. "Walter put much more stock into the discovery than I. I imagine that he enjoyed the sense of security or power he believed it gave him."

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "And you don't agree?"

"It is a valuable commodity no doubt and anyone would be a fool to waste it, but it's limited and not sustainable. I have used it for what it was intended for." Blaine knew he meant the Council. "After all, I have no problems beating you to a bloody pulp with my bare hands," he finished casually, giving Blaine's knife an amused glance like he thought it a toy. He tightened his grip.

"Your army of younglings aren't doing as well even with their advantage."

"Yes, well, our timetable got significantly advanced and plans had to be adjusted. They are paying for the mistakes of their own making. Many of them will fall, but you underestimate just how many I have to lose," he said with a confident smile. "Imagine a droplet in an ocean if you would, spread across all of the territories just waiting for the flood gates to open."

Adam chose this moment to spring and for a blinding, brief, elation filled moment Blaine thought that the Brit had him- the sword in his hands ready to slice through flesh, muscle and tendon. Marcus shifted in a blink of an eye and in the next bat of eyelids he was wrist deep inside Adam's chest.

Blaine cried out in vain and Marcus paid him no mind as he gave Adam's gaping face a cursory look before ripping his hand out with one vital organ in hand and throwing his body to the floor. "Messy," he tutted, looking down at his once pristine shirt.

Blaine roared and leapt at him.

Marcus met him in the middle and they crashed together, the sound a clap in the now empty room. Blaine was fuelled by rage, hatred and grief: the force of it almost enough to black out his vision before he got a hold of himself.

"Even while fighting you're still so restricted," Marcus spat out in disgust as he batted his knife swipe away and followed it with a punch to his mouth that sent Blaine stumbling. "You hide behind weapons and fight for control. Restriction breeds complacency and weakness and our whole race is suffering under it."

"Restrictions are necessary because of monsters like you!" he growled, spitting blood onto the floor.

"I really thought you would have understood, Blaine," Marcus said sadly.

He reset his feet, taking a wider stance. "Understand that you're certifiable? Yeah, I'm up to date on that."

Marcus didn't seem too interested in pressing the advantage and he gave him the time to resettle as he talked, "You've experienced what it is to be your true self. I showed you that. And didn't it feel better to be free? Free of weakness and restraints. You showed everyone, Blaine, don't you see?! Showed them that this Chosen business was nothing more than a distraction, a parasite leeching the strength from you. But, you… you, my boy, came out the other side without a Chosen and you kept going!" He laughed triumphantly. "And the whole vampire race watched you and questioned."

"What are you talking about?" Blaine snarled.

"You really were just meant to kill yourself after that whole nasty business you know," he said casually, but his eyes were bright. "But you gave me so much more, Blaine. The way you stiff upper lipped it through, stubborn thing that you are. It was entertaining at first I must admit, but then every day you kept going, got out of bed, fed… you gave me the greatest gift of all. You gifted me with the means to convince a whole new generation to join me. A generation that would be free from the constraints of Chosen's and free of a Council that tried to hide away their true natures. They saw you and they had evidence of what I was telling them. That you didn't need a Chosen to survive, that you didn't need to be bound or chained to someone else." He laughed again, gazing at him in delight, like a proud parent would their child. "Thank you."

Blaine felt revulsion crawl all over his skin and he took an involuntary step back. While he was wallowing away in grief was this happening right under their noses? Did he help with this mad vampires plan? "You're insane."

"Hardly. Don't try to shy away from what you've accomplished. You should be proud," Marcus complimented him, twisting his own metaphorical knife deeper and knowing it.

"What happens when this new generation meets their Chosen?" he demanded. "You can't prevent it."

Marcus shrugged. "Then they will be made an example of until such a time where Chosen's are no longer an issue."

"You can't simply get rid of it just like that!" Blaine burst out. "You keep talking about our true nature and Chosen's are an integral part of that, they always have been!"

"Hardly integral. You proved that."

Blaine felt sick. "I've never been weaker than when he was gone."

"Weak!" Marcus scoffed. "Blaine, my boy, the amount of my Rogues you chewed through on your search for my nephew alone… we still haven't found all the pieces of them a hundred years later. The best thing I ever did for you was order that waif to be killed."

Before he could check himself he was bridging the gap between them again and going for the vampire's throat with his fangs; the old wound pricked and irritated and an answering wave of bloodlust drowning out his common sense.

He was caught just as easily as Adam was, Marcus getting a steady grip around his open mouth and applying pressure to the hinges of his jaw. He leant in close. "No matter how well-tamed a beast is, its nature remains the same. So if I am ruthless then it is because you are." The punch that followed that sent him sprawling across the marble. "If I am selfish and malicious and blood hungry then it because you are that as well." Three kicks in succession that had him gasping for breath as his ribs caved inwards, curling in on himself before he was dragged back up. "If I am evil then it is because you are. We are one and the same, Blaine. Vampires. I am your true nature."

"We are nothing alike!" he hissed, spitting up more blood, managing to get enough purchase to push himself away from those grasping hands and roll back to his unsteady feet.

Marcus indulged him enough to let him get a few steps backwards and began to circle him like a shark scenting blood. "If I spilled your Prince's precious lifeblood would you not hunger for it deep down? The smell of copper oh so sweet in the air. Would you not rage and bare your fangs and wish to tear me limb from limb. Would you not want to draw out my death, to make sure I really felt it, that I'd learnt my lesson?"

"I'm going to do that anyway," he promised, like a gauntlet thrown down on the floor between them.

He didn't realise that Marcus had been speaking in the present tense.

"That's the spirit!" Marcus purred in a sibilant tone and held his arms wide. "There are things that can change in this world. But us? We are eternal. We are what we were always meant to be. There is no changing for us no matter if you hide your fangs behind smiles. And I can see the real you, Blaine, right there in your eyes. You've been there so many times it must feel like home. Give in to what you really are. Take off the mask and show me," he growled, lunging inwards once more.

Blaine barely had time to get out the way before he was flattened, aiming a strike at his back as he rushed past him. He still wasn't a match for Marcus' speed though even when he had overcommitted and Marcus caught him by the wrist that was still dripping blood. He swung him around by it and sent him careening into a wall, cracks spider webbing behind him and dust raining down.

By a miracle he had been able to hold onto his blade and in a moment of desperation he threw the thing at the approaching Marcus whose eyes widened momentarily before he moved. The dagger nicked him on the shoulder and a patch of red began to seep into the ripped material of his shirt.

Using the distraction to his advantage Blaine got himself to his feet and dove at Marcus's legs. It was a clumsy move and Marcus flipped over him easily. Like he said to Wes, he knew he had no chance of winning this fight, but still, he wouldn't give up and dragging this out might just be the way to save his friends.

He looked around for anything that could help him and spotted his dagger on the floor a few feet away.

Noticing Blaine reaching for his blade Marcus shook his head with a cluck of his tongue, moving quickly enough to get there first and kicking it away nonchalantly. The backhand that followed to Blaine's face was powerful enough that had he been mortal, he would have died instantly. Instead he saw stars, head snapping back hard and his body following the momentum until he was sprawled on his back. Blood roared in his ears as Blaine blinked, trying to clear his vision.

"It's strange how these things go is it not? The cause and effect of the universe," the Rogue leader mused out loud. "Think where you might have been now if you hadn't met your dear prince. I wonder whose side you'd be on if you hadn't been tainted from so young with this bond of yours."

So you decided to taint all these younglings with the opposite, was what he wanted to say but didn't, because a bigger epiphany was crashing over his weakened body as his dazed mind contemplated an idea. It couldn't be as simple… He felt like laughing all of a sudden.

"You're scared of it," he mumbled.

Marcus's brows actually drew together as he drew up short. "What?"

"All this time… how did we not see?" he asked himself. "You're so obsessed with it. With destroying vampire bonds and it's because you're scared of it."

"Scared of something as weak as a Chosen bond," he scoffed.

"It's not weak… you said yourself. You think it makes you weak and you're terrified of it happening to you. The great Marcus Polland tied to another vampire, or shifter, or werewolf, or even a human-"

He received a kick to the face that sent stars flying around his head.

"Do not speak such filth!"

Blaine did begin to laugh then, through the pain wracking his body making it throb and his broken ribs grinding together and the blood filling up his mouth he laughed. "I almost didn't see it but it's so obvious."

A kick to the stomach made him gag and wheeze as his internal organs were scrambled. "Silence!"

Blaine coughed up another mouthful of blood. "What will you do when you meet them, Marcus? When that connection snaps into place and all you want to do is please them, to follow them around and make sure they're happy, to give into their every wish and desire so strongly that anything you want is secondary. They'll have the means to control you. They could ask you to do anything and you'd want to. You'd die to."

"You think you're so smart, so holier than thou. The righteous and tortured Blaine Anderson. But I know what you really are… and I can bring you out whenever I want," Marcus growled into his face before he smiled knowingly, gaining back some composure. "After all, I hold your heart in my hands."

"My coven has already located my family by now. You have nothing!" Blaine said smugly, even if he was to die here he wouldn't go to the After with anything of Marcus' to taint him with.

But Marcus continued to grin from ear to ear and Blaine felt suddenly uneasy under the weight of it. "Ah yes, your family. I would taunt you with what I did to your mother but that hardly seems appropriate, it was rather bland after all and you were estranged for such a long time…" he trailed off and Blaine let out a harsh pant trying not to react.

He failed.

Marcus gauged his reaction and impossibly his smile widened. "Just like I thought. Lucky for me I have something far more precious hidden in my back pocket. You did such a poor job of protecting him the first time around, dear Blaine. I wonder that you never learnt your lesson."

Blaine stopped breathing and felt the tumblers lock into place slowly; the uneasy feeling he'd had since the safe house that felt so uncomfortably familiar that had manifested into a screaming urge inside his head- click- the silence at the other end of the communication stone -click- the magical plant ladder that had seemed beyond anything Blaine had ever seen Jeff do, but exactly the type of thing his Chosen had done in the Training Room all those months ago -click-

"Kurt," he breathed out in disbelief, filter lost.

No, no, no… he was in Geldian! There was no way Marcus had figured out how to breach those wards!

"You're lying." But the accusation crumbled into dust under the weight of the evidence.

"I do wonder how you managed it. Back without a freckle out of place and his magic intact too!" Marcus mused vindictively, pushing down on his wrecked chest. "I haven't managed to get that information out of him yet but I'll enjoy the effort I assure you. Such a sweet fae. I haven't tasted a drop of him what with all the commotion, but I'll be sure to rectify that. Did you know that I was going to have my nephew save me some of his blood the first time around? The logistics didn't work out, bottled blood is never the same as from the vein."

Not again, not again, NOT AGAIN!

Blaine roared, the sound vibrating his ruined chest and filling the room. His vision faded to black as a rage the likes he had never felt before set him alight, kindling with the fuel from a hundred year old pyre. "I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU! IF YOU DARE TOUCH HIM! KURT! KURT!"

"There he is," Marcus crowed as he held him down, happy he had taunted the beast from its cage finally.

There was a dark, bloodthirsty surge inside him and he shoved Marcus and sent him reeling backwards, his face set in an expression of shock as he flew. Blaine rose to his feet a foaming, bloody shadow of himself, exactly what Marcus had been asking for this whole time.

He charged and somehow found himself fang deep, tearing a chunk of flesh from Marcus's neck.

Strength he didn't know he could possess filled every muscle pushing him to hit harder and claw deeper, striking every vulnerable spot he could to gain the upper hand over this being who had orchestrated his biggest anguish.

"Where is he?!" he demanded, flecks of blood and flesh flying.

Marcus roared back: his guise of civility and poise completely shattered as he shoved him off and got to his feet.

In a blink of an eye twenty ethereal bodies were filling up the space behind Marcus's head and they all turned to face them. King Darius Gelding recognised him immediately and his face changed from anxiousness to fury as he raised his hand.

Marcus went careening through the air once more… but not from Fae magic.

Ophelia came streaking past in a blur of white and black and pounced on the vampire. With ancient blood running through her veins it was almost no contest. Marcus was impossibly fast, but Ophelia was even faster and every twitch of movement he made she was one step ahead of. The wall shattered and cracked on impact where she gave the vampire a taste of his own medicine by slamming him into it, the force of it rattling the chandeliers.

Seeing him stunned from the impact in a heap on the floor Ophelia followed at a sedate pace, using a bare foot to press on his outstretched arm when she got there. It cracked and she tilted her head in curiosity when he muffled a yell of pain.

She dragged him up and back to the middle of the room by the roots of his hair and placed him on his knees in front of her, humbling him in front of everyone and putting him in the epicentre of the carnage he had created.

Marcus listed to the side, cradling his broken arm in front of him as he looked up. "Ophelia, darling, you're awake. I thought you were going to sleep all night."

She didn't blink, only said in a smooth, dead tone, "Your death will not be quick. I will show no mercy. You will beg before we reach the end and then I will start over."

"Is that any way to treat an old friend, 'Phelia?"

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Ophelia intoned, voice devoid of any anger at the prospect. She bent elegantly at the waist, her dark fall of tangled hair masking her face from anyone but Marcus. "You won't be granted the same reprieve."

When she pulled back Marcus's smug smile had finally disappeared.

Blaine didn't notice Darius approaching and didn't hear his questions. Instead he made his way back over to Marcus, battling with the dark rage that had filled his mind which demanded retribution paid in blood and suffering.

"Where. Is. Kurt?" he managed to grit between his teeth.

"I imagine my nephew decided to use this time to his advantage," Marcus shrugged.

Before Blaine could attack Darius grasped his arm and a sensation of calm washed into him, breaking his mind free from the dark. He sagged in exhaustion as rational thought seeped in and instinct was pushed back.

"Kurt needs you. Now. Do not waste time with this," he told him.

I can't feel him calling anymore.

Blaine shoved away from him, headed for the door with a limping gait, arm wrapped around the mess of his chest.

.

Blaine headed upstairs to start looking without knowing why. He couldn't feel a tug in any direction in his chest any longer but something was pushing him and he listened. In the end it wasn't hard to locate exactly where Marcus was keeping Kurt as a familiar piece of magic stood out at the end of the main hallway; tangled and gnarled roots ten times their natural size were curled over one another spilling out and had replaced the doorway to the room, smashing out some of the wall and floor around it.

"KURT!" he called desperately, sprinting that way.

He struggled over the oversized roots, feet catching and slipping as he realised they were wet, every movement a painful agony until he was dropping down the other side into a puddle of water in a ruined bedroom.

A once ornate four poster bed was laid bare, its expensive coverings lying in tatters from posts and on the floor. There were pieces of expensive pottery that had been smashed and tables that were held up on two legs with glass shards strewn around the watery floor.

And in the midst of all of this chaos was a body.

"Kurt?" Blaine croaked, the rage being doused under the freezing stab of fear that took hold of his chest as he spotted what was unmistakably his Chosen lying unmoving on the floor amidst the destruction surrounding him.

He almost didn't notice Burt who was crouched next to Kurt in the inch of water.

The feeling of de ja vu was like a punch to the gut: stealing all his breath and leaving him staggering on his feet.

After all of this… he had still failed.

"Blaine… Blaine!"

He didn't know who was calling him, his gaze never wavered as he stumbled towards his Chosen, collapsing at his side in a pile of bloody, spent limbs.

"Stay with him, you hear. I'm going to find a phone and I'm going to get him help," a gruff voice ordered. He heard splashes of footsteps then the cocking of a gun. "Who the hell are you two?!"

Blaine observed the damage on Kurt's face and body and felt his throat get tight. "You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't…"

The tears burst forth and with them the pain, breaking through that numb fugue state and letting him feel every inch of internal agony as he gathered his Chosen into his arms… just like the last time.

"Kurt, please. Not again… I can't," he wept, cupping his cheeks and placing trembling kisses to his slack mouth. "You can't come back and then leave again. Kurt!" He shook his shoulders but there was no response.

"Blaine-" Someone… Darius, it was Darius… tried to touch his shoulder and he snapped at their fingers.

"NO!" He pulled his limp body closer and pressed his mouth to his temple. "He's not gone. He's not."

"Help him," Burt demanded, striding over and grabbing the King by the front of his robes threateningly. "SAVE HIM!" he shouted. "You all dragged him into this. He was just a kid, my little boy and you dragged him into this shitstorm he had no business being a part of. Now save my boy!"

"I… cannot…" Darius choked, unable to take his eyes off the scene.

Burt shoved him. "Vampires and magic and you can't do anything! What the fuck good are you then?!"

"Blaine," Elana said thickly, coming into his sightline looking defeated and gaunt. "He is fading quickly… if there is something you wish to say… he may well still hear you."

Last words. She was asking him to give Kurt his last words. After everything they had been through and this… this is where it finally ended?

He couldn't accept it.

He couldn't let him go again.

"Blaine," Darius said softly.

"NO!" he yelled over his shoulder, recognising the tone. It was same one everyone had used when his Kurt had first died. Kurt wasn't dead. And he wasn't going to be. He felt a stormy resolve build up inside him; thunder rumbling its intentions and lightning striking every part of him he needed to make this work.

"Blaine, you are too weak," Elana protested, sensing his intentions.

Yes, he was weak. He'd never felt worse. But. Magic came from life, right? Vampires may not have any inherent magic themselves but he had everything to give to Kurt: life, love, it was all wrapped up in the same place and so he grasped that part of himself firmly inside and tightened his grip on his soulmate.

"You will not be able to get through to him… you have no natural mag-"

"Help me."

"Nothing like this has ever been attempte-"

"Please," he begged.

"I do not know how," she despaired, falling to her knees in the water, eyes filling up and twin tears streaking down her cheeks.

"This is how she did it," Darius said faintly, meeting his daughter's eyes before looking back down at his son. "Clarisse… she… " He swallowed, then moved forwards and knelt down next to Blaine. "I did not understand before, I assumed it was my Queen's ability to heal that brought Kurt back and drained her magic past what she was able to sustain, but now I see that was only a small part of it. I cannot guarantee this will indeed work, or that either of us will survive the attempt."

"I'd do anything for him," he declared to him, the people in the room, the universe itself.

Darius nodded and grasped his nape in one hand and Kurt's wrist in another. There was a surge of what felt like a current tapping directly into the essence of who he was and then something pulled, yanking that life-force right out of his body.

He didn't fight it. He was at peace with the idea that even if this didn't work, he'd meet his Chosen in the After finally.

.

Kurt floated for a time, how long he couldn't accurately measure and the sense of calm that came with the realisation that time was no longer an issue left him loose limbed in the warm space he drifted through.

There was no hurt here, none of the franticness he had been living his life in for the past few months, only peace in the darkness and quiet. He felt a tugging sensation from somewhere far away, so faint it was easy to ignore, to float further away and embrace this feeling of tranquillity.

It was as he drifted weightlessly that his mind began to unfurl, free from the stress and pressures of life, free from the pain of his body and there it was. His memories. All accounted for, every detail faithfully catalogued and painted into his mind like the loveliest of pictures uncovered from under a tarp for too long.

He sifted through them with joyous, loving fingers, turning them over in his mind and delighting in each one regained. Some dulling as they should and others standing out stark and bright against the background of the others.

"Kurt," a familiar voice whispered.

He blinked his eyes open, hadn't been aware they were closed and Clarisse was standing there: the only bright spot in a sea of black in her favourite white gown, her bright blue eyes soft as they rested upon him, bringing comfort without touch.

"Mother," he breathed, the displaced feelings within him now slotted neatly into place next to each corresponding memory. The puzzle of his life now coming together in a way that made sense. "Mother," he repeated as a wave of love and sadness overcame him.

He came to a stop and his form touched some form of ground, leaving him sitting. She knelt before him and rested her hand on his cheek. It felt cold, an absence of feeling and he reached up to grasp onto her only to pass right through like she wasn't there at all. Simply an echo.

She smiled benevolently at him. "Do not look so heartbroken my little prince. This is a good thing. I would not wish you here with me until much later in your life."

The reminder cut him deeply. "I'm sorry. You gave up your life for mine-"

"Hush," she soothed. "None of that. It's a mother's prerogative to do everything she can do to protect her children. It was not your time and my decision should not weigh so heavily on your shoulders. For that I am the one who is sorry."

The words, straight from her, bound a wound inside of him that had been there since he had found out about her sacrifice and he wished desperately that he could embrace her, thank her in some way. But he couldn't. She was there, but she wasn't.

He looked around the blackness surrounding them, still not scared, but not understanding. "Is this the After?"

"The Inbetween," Clarisse corrected with a wry smile and a twinkle in her eye as she winked. "You're not ready to leave yet, you have far too many people who love you pulling you back."

Kurt could feel that faint tug inside, stronger now, yet still barely there.

"Can you come?" he asked hopefully.

Her smile turned sad and she used her other hand to pass through his hair which did not move. He felt comforted by the gesture regardless and was able to use the memory of her touch to substitute the feeling. "No, my little prince. My place is here now, waiting for you all."

"Surely there's a way… you brought me back-"

"At great cost. You cannot bring back one without sacrificing the other. It was a gamble of magic and nature that was a violation for me to do. I do not regret my choice, Kurt. I could never regret that… I do regret the pain I caused as a result of it though. To you… to your father and sister especially. I do not know if she has forgiven me."

"She loves you," he said with certainty.

She smiled widely. "Tell her I am proud of her. That I love her."

Kurt swallowed, feeling his eyes sting but no tears falling. "I will. But if you cannot bring back people without sacrificing someone else… does that mean-"

"This is the Inbetween. You are not fully gone, not like the first time. There is still time," she reassured him. "It is only a matter of patience. A strong virtue of yours as I recall," she teased, her countenance iridescent like she was lit up from the inside.

"I miss you," he said earnestly. "I didn't remember until now."

"We will see each other again," she promised faithfully. "For now, your soulmate calls you."

"Blaine," he breathed, mind and heart lighting up at the reminder of him, the tug now morphing into an insistent pull.

Clarisse placed her hand against his chest and closed her eyes for a moment. The slow, joyous smile that began to grace her lips was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "Your father and sister are helping him… I feel them all calling out for you. Oh, you are so loved Kurt."

"I don't want to leave you," he confessed, but he could already feel his body urging him back.

"I am always with you."

"I love you. Thank you." It was the only thing out of so many rushing around in his head that he could think to say.

"As I love you, my darling. Remember to tell your sister and father I love them," she said, form beginning to fade in front of him.

"Mother, wait-"

She vanished and he was left alone in the darkness that instead of comforting him, began to push him back. He drifted into the welcoming brightness, following the thread of Blaine's energy like a single ribbon, snaking through the air. He reached out and grasped it at the end, yanking himself upwards until-

-he gasped for breath, the sensation of fresh oxygen saturating his body.

See you in the next one
Xx