Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Note: So here's the much-anticipated sequel to "Playing With Fire"! Kurt Hummel is on his way to an adolescent psych ward, no thanks to Puck's actions. Santana is on her way there, too. Will they be able to heal? Or will they fall apart? Only time will tell…expect quite a few Original Characters. Also, I just may do Puck/Kurt. I'm still toying with it, to be quite honest.

Note 2: I'm not sure when this will be posted…I'm not sure if you've noticed, but FanFiction has had login issues last night and today. I'm trying, though!

Phoenix [fee-niks] (noun): a mythical bird of great beauty fabled to live 500 or 600 years in the Arabian wilderness, to burn itself on a funeral pyre, and to rise from its ashes in the freshness of youth and live through another cycle of years: often an emblem of immortality or of reborn idealism or hope. A person or thing that has become renewed or restored after suffering calamity or apparent annihilation.

A phoenix is exactly what Kurt Hummel was. Or, rather, it was what he would become, with some luck. Like a phoenix, Kurt would be reborn from the ashes of his destruction. Like a phoenix, he would be renewed, restored, he would be human again, and the beast that lay within him would be vanquished once and for all. With any luck, Santana Lopez would be his twin phoenix, also being reborn from the ashes of what she had (literally) driven herself to be. But enough of that, now.

Where we last left them, Santana was in the hospital, where she had arrived after having been in a horrendous car accident that left her with several broken bones and a concussion. Kurt had tried to commit suicide upon the news of Santana's accident, having assumed her dead. And Puck, unsure how to handle the situation, had notified Kurt's family as to what happened, having saved Kurt from his self-slaughter.

Carole and Burt and Finn came bursting into the emergency room where Puck was standing, waiting for them.

"Puck, where's Kurt?" Carole asked, voice quavering. "Where is he?"

"He's upstairs, with Santana."

Carole sank into a nearby chair. "Thank God…thank God…" Burt took off for the elevators without a second thought. Finn collapsed into a chair next to his mother.

"I feel so responsible," he moaned, putting his head into his hands. "What kind of stepbrother am I?"

"A lousy one," Puck remarked.

"Never mind that right now," Carole said weakly. "Puck, tell me what happened, please, from the start."

Puck took a deep breath and began to spin his tale. "It all started a few days ago…"

Burt stormed into Santana Lopez's room. He found his son in a chair next to her bed, holding her hand and crying softly. "Kurt Hummel," he thundered. Kurt stood up with a start.

"Dad," he said quickly. "I can explain…"

"Can explain how you just tried to KILL YOURSELF?" Burt roared. Santana's eyes fluttered open. "Mr. Hummel?" She asked sleepily.

Burt stormed over to Kurt and took him sharply by the wrist. "Say goodbye to Santana, Kurt, because you're not seeing her for a long, long time."

Kurt turned his head to his friend, tears blinding him. "No…Dad, no…"

"Now, Kurt."

"Goodbye, Santana," Kurt whispered. She raised her good hand in farewell. Kurt was dragged from the room by his father.

Burt pinned his son against the wall. "Kurt, I'm only going to ask you this one more time: what the HELL were you thinking?"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Kurt sobbed.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Kurt. No son of mine, gay or straight, is going to try to kill himself and get away with it." Kurt continued to sob. "Stop that crying. Be a man, Kurt. Oh, wait. I guess you can't be a man. Real men don't try to burn themselves to death." Kurt only sobbed even more, dropping to his knees. "Get up!" Burt yelled, hauling Kurt to his feet. "Look me in the eye!" Kurt couldn't, he just couldn't. "LOOK ME IN THE EYE," Burt said in a loud, stern voice. Kurt didn't. Burt slapped him across the face. "Damn you, Kurt. Damn you." Kurt felt the sharp sting from the slap. "Damn you," Burt said again.

"I can't believe Kurt would…I should've seen the signs!" Carole scolded herself.

"We all should have, Carole," Puck said quietly, trying to calm her.

"I'm his stepmother! I should've seen this!" She dabbed a tissue to her eye.

"Even his best friend didn't see this," Finn murmured. "Even I didn't. And I'm his stepbrother."

"Watch it, Hudson," Puck growled. "The last time you mentioned Kurt to us, you called him a faggot."

"What?" Carole whirled around to face Finn. "You called your brother a WHAT?"

Finn hung his head in shame. "I was angry with him," he admitted.

"That gives you no right to call your brother derogatory names. You're grounded for a month, Finn."

Finn hung his head again. "Yes, Mom."

She turned back to Puck. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Well, this place has a…a juvenile psych ward, I think. So maybe he can go there or something. And he can get help from, you know, those…psych people."

Carole blew her nose. "Yes….I think that will help. At least, I hope it will."

Puck put a hand on her shoulder. "For Kurt's sake," he said. "We all hope it will."

Burt dragged Kurt to the elevator. "You're going straight to a psychologist," he muttered. "Straight to a shrink. If we need to lock you up, God help us, we will." Kurt trembled. He didn't want to be sent to the loony bin. He didn't want to be sent to anyone. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to go home. He ran from the elevator right into Carole's waiting arms. She hugged him tightly. "Kurt, Kurt," she murmured into his hair.

"M-M-M-Mom," he stuttered, using that name for the first time in deference to Carole. It only made her cry even harder than she already was. Finn clung back awkwardly.

"Kurt," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Kurt glared at him over Carole's shoulder. "Apology not accepted," he said coldly.

Carole let go and looked at him. "I understand, honey. Finn had no right to call you those names."

"I'm not talking about that," he said, breaking free from her grip. "I'm talking about something else entirely. And Finn very well knows what that is."

Finn shuffled his large feet. "Yes, I do," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry for that, too."

"Apology still not accepted," Kurt said in that same cold voice. It was then that he noticed Puck standing there for the first time. "Puck," his voice softened. "You stayed."

"Um, yeah, I did," Puck nervously stated. "Are…are you mad that I called your folks?"

"You stayed," Kurt said again, voice breaking. "You stayed." He ran over to Puck and threw himself into the boy's arms.

"Um, yeah, little dude, I stayed," Puck said, feeling very awkward that Kurt was suddenly snuggled up in his arms. He patted Kurt's back gently.

For once, Kurt didn't mind that Puck had called him 'little dude'.

He'd stayed.

He'd stayed to make sure that he was okay.

And he had saved him.

So how could Kurt be mad, really?