AN- So, this is my try at some Demon!Klaine. This is totally AU and basically characters I use will be mainly Klaine, Warblers (as a secret band of monster-fighting teens), Puck and Finn (as bullies who hate poor Kurt Hummel's guts), and little cameos from the students at McKinley. Yeahhhh… I really don't know what happened here. Just a little plot bunny jumpin' around in my head. Enjoy!

*P.S- I don't own Glee. If I did, it would be mostly Klaine-centric! Virtual cookie to those who get this line (*hem hem* fans of Everything?)

I walked up to the rusted front gate, much to the disappointment of my tormentors. They were hoping that I would chicken out so they could pummel me. But this dare went past the usual norm. Past shoving tots into Coach Sylvester's tailpipe. Past secretly helping them lock poor Artie Abrahms in a port-a-potty. As much as I hated it, completing these dares kept me from getting beaten to a pulp by the football team, because that's just who Finn Hudson and Noah "Puck" Puckerman were. They liked playing their sick, twisted game with me. Because half the time I couldn't do the dares. And the deal was, if I didn't do it, they got to pound the living crap out of me.

"C'mon Hummel, you aren't actually gonna do it, are you?" Finn called out from behind me. "Yeah- this house is like, totally haunted. I heard a kid, like, died in there once!" Puck said, reaching for my arm. I jerked away from his grasp and turned to face them. "I don't care how many people died in there, and all the ghosts in the world can't stop me, because being scared to death is better than being beaten up by bitches like you!" I spat at them, spinning quickly back and pushing the gate open to the Hillhouse Mansion.

Puckerman just stared at me as I stalked up to the huge oak double doors, and knocked twice using the huge brass knocker shaped like a serpent with its fangs bared at the visitor. Charming. I glanced behind me to see Puck turning to Finn and running down the street as the heavy booming of metal-on-wood echoed through the "ghost house". I didn't get why people were so hyped up about this place. Well, there was that murder, but that was, what, 50 years ago? I didn't believe in a higher power or whatnot, and I've never seen solid evidence to make me believe anything paranormal existed, so I honestly didn't think I was in danger.

If I only knew then what I know now…

I sneezed as I walked through the huge mansion. God, there was so much dust covering everything. I had to find somewhere that had suitable living conditions. Rules to the dare were that I stayed the night and recorded anything spooky I found. Whatever. I would just write that I heard a few bumps and groan coming from the basement or something. They would totally buy that. I cringed as I walked up the stairs. They sounded like they could collapse under me at any moment. I jogged up the last couple steps, thankful that none of them gave way.

I continued on down the upper corridor, noticing that every door was chipped and broken except for the one on the end. I cautiously approached it, expecting more grime and decay, but instead finding a rather well furnished, and dare I say it, tastefully, decorated bedroom. The floors were swept, the bed was made, and not a speck of dust on any surface. This would most certainly do. I set my sketchpad on the nightstand and sat on the bed. There was a maroon comforter over navy blankets and a black bedspread.

There was no clock anywhere in the room, so I whipped out my phone and checked the time. 6:34. My dad was probably worried. I sighed as I dialed his number, and groaned when I realized that I had no phone signal. Great. I was stuck in a house that was supposedly haunted (I had no intention of going back down those stairs) with no way to contact the outside world unless I wanted to scream out the window, which wasn't going to happen. It was bolted shut. I grabbed my sketchpad and pencil and started sketching the room.

I was halfway done when I heard someone coming up the stairs. What the hell was someone doing in this dump? Then I remembered that I was currently staying in this dump. Crap. I rolled off the bed, quicker than I thought was physically possible, and scooted under as the door swung open. I saw nice shoes walk across the room to my hiding place and heard the springs creak as Mr. Mystery sat on the edge of the bed. Huh. He had no socks. Then I remembered that I left my sketchbook up on the bed. I bit my lip as I finally heard the stranger speak. "What the-?"

Nothing happened for a few moments, and then, faster than I could blink, a mop of curly hair blocked my view of the bedroom's floor. I screamed as I was grabbed by the tops of my arms and pulled out from under the bed. I had my eyes shut tight and my hands over my ears as I was tugged into a standing position. Then the hands left my arms and they didn't touch me again. I only realized that the mystery guy was trying to speak when I cracked one of my eyes open and saw his lips moving. And then I saw his eyes. They were for lack of a better word, beautiful. I was entranced as I finally removed my hands from my ears and caught a part of what he said.

"My name's Blaine Andreson,"