Epilogue 2

Author's note at end of chapter.

Chapter 22

They found Kurt later on that day. They didn't understand what had happened but they were all still there for their little Cherub. They helped him locate some wild flowers to place on Blaine's grave and helped tidy up the unkempt site. Connie promised that they would often visit and keep it in order even after Kurt would leave at the end of the summer. He could only nod, words were beyond him at the moment.

He spent hours there every single day after that.

He was a vigil in visiting that grave as he was with his mother's grave. He knew that he wouldn't be able to visit until the next summer…so he tried to get as much time in as possible. Sometimes he would talk to him, not knowing if Blaine could even hear him…but somehow he knew that he did and that thought was comforting. It meant that he would always have Blaine there with him, if he continued to believe in him.

Eventually Kurt stopped visiting for so long. On those days he spent the time cataloging the books. He would never finish in the short amount of time that he had but it didn't matter. He and Eleanor had a silent agreement that the Cherub would be returning the next summer and most likely every summer after that.

Kurt had taught her something that summer. He showed her that hanging onto the past was not worth it…if you ever want to have a future. She never bought another book and for once actually started reading some of the books that she had. After Kurt had left at the end of the summer, she drove her old truck out to the nearest town. She got it fixed up in the garage and joined a book club. She would drive down there every week, from then on and mingle with her new 'very alive' friends. She couldn't have thanked Kurt more for what he had done and how he had helped her. She gave him a gift before he left. It was a simple gift but it was the thought that really counted. It was a little blank notebook, the covers made from rich fabric that sparkled in the light.

"It's for your story, Kurt." She had said. "You continue to write your story here then come back next summer and we can bury this one with your old one."

It had been Connie's idea to bury his old [Now full] journal. It was inside a thick leather cover [To protect it] and buried a distance away from the Gnome pond.

Kurt had smiled and thanked her. He did write, every single day. Every bad memory and every good were recorded inside those pages. The good memories had gotten more and more often. Expectably after he had met him, a dapper young man who wears way too much hair gel and sings lead for Dalton's show choir group.

He never forgot Blaine of course. How could he? How often is it that you fall in love with a ghost? Blaine would always be there and was always just a blink of an eye away…he never stopped loving him even when he had started loving someone else.

It took a while but eventually Ellie had gotten the entire story out of the others. They had kept saying that she was to young to know a secret so big and so horrific. But she was not getting any older so when would she be old enough? Can you ever be old enough to experience pain?

She couldn't think of an answer, she was still just a child. Some things did just go over her head even though she strained to understand them. When she finally did understand everything she visited Blaine's grave.

"I know what I have to do." She said. "But I am a bit scared. I've never been to London before."

The whisper on the wind that day sounded a lot like Blaine's voice. It encouraged her to venture out and find her way to London. It took her months but she did manage to find her. She was Gavin's only known descendant and she lived in uptown London. Her mother had married well and that money had been passed down to her when she had died. Her father had died soon after, living the young girl alone and confused about what she wanted in life.

She had never thought about it before and now her future had the nerve to show up and expect her to do something. She had no idea what she could possibly do. When Ellie showed up, she was glad for the distraction. She had been seeing spirits for years but this was the first time one of them acknowledged that they could also see her.

Ellie sat down with her and told her the entire story. From that day when Gavin and Blaine had met, to the day when he finally crossed over- his sprit finally at peace. She had listened with eager ears waiting for the next plot twist.

When Ellie had finished, she was crying.

"Oh, thank-you dearest. I promise their story won't go untold any longer. I don't care how long it takes me but I will write that story…to the best of my abilities."

And she did. It took her six years and a couple very disastrous manuscripts before she had something that she was happy with.

When the book was published…it wasn't very popular. But those few fans now knew that forgotten story…it was no longer forgotten and for that she was glad. She had accomplished something worthwhile in her life at least.

Kurt finally did look up the word 'Cherub.' A Cherub is a pudgy faced baby with wings used to represent innocence in early biblical stories. He read over the definition a few times before laughing aloud.

He was anything but a Cherub and that was the irony of it all.

The end

Author's note-

Greetings, I hope you have enjoyed this story despite its slightly less than happy ending. If you enjoyed it feel free to leave a review, I love hearing from people and I promise I do not bite.

Now onto my thanks. Thank-you to my Beta reader and best friend who wished to remain nameless. This really would not have gotten anywhere without you. Thank-you to the people who came back to this story to read and the ones who put me on story and author alert. I'll admit this story does not seem all that popular but I am glad that it has had some sort of readership since I am very proud of it.

Thank-you to Nanowrimo camp which was where I wrote this story and it probably wouldn't have gotten out any other way.

And thanks to my mom because it couldn't have happened without her.

Love,

Thomlina