Fairy Blood
Out of the Coffin
Puck watched the angry red tail-lights of the black navigator that he knew held his friend and that Kurt guy until they disappeared from view. It almost seemed like it had faded from sight, he thought, swallowed by the night shadow. “Oh get a grip Puckerman,” he laughed at himself as he made his way across the nearly abandoned parking lot toward his truck. There were maybe two, or three other vehicles besides his own, and he moved a little faster across the lot in spite of himself, scoffing at himself all the while for acting like such a chick.
It wasn't as if he was actually afraid, he told himself – it was Finn for god sake! His bruises seemed to throb in contradiction to his thoughts, reminding him exactly what his friend was apparently capable of, but was he afraid? Puck really considered that for a minute; he though about all that had happened that night, and compared it to what he knew of his best friend, as well as what he thought he knew and what he remembered the vampire chick on TV saying about their kind. He had no illusions about what they were. Vampires were predators and he knew that. Anything that feed on living blood was a natural predator; even Finn had admitted that he still had issues around people, but did that make Puck afraid?
No... Well, OK, maybe a little, he admitted to himself. Maybe he was afraid on a purely instinctual level, he wasn't stupid. Like it or not, Vampires were higher on the food chain, and Puck did have a survival instinct, but no, he wasn't really afraid, he decided. The trick to dealing with predators, he knew, was to be assertive, dominate. You had to look them in the eye and not back down; you had to be the Alpha – show them that you were the boss, because if a predator sensed fear it would rip you to shreds. So, no, he decided, slowing his pace to a confident stride. He wasn't afraid, he was Bad ass – definitely an Alpha.
Still, Puck was a little shocked. His best friend since elementary school was a vampire, obviously. He didn't quite know how to respond to that; on the one hand, in concept, being a Vampire sounded awesome! At the very least he knew it was a total chick magnet, the Gossip he remembered among the female population of McKinley was enough to tell him that. He'd make a totally kick ass vamp, no question – not that he needed any help in that department, he smirked.
On the other hand, that was like necrophilia and that was just gross. You could justify it how you wanted, but the stone cold fact was that Vampires were very dead, and that thought depressed him more then anything else. Finn, his best friend of nearly fifteen years, was inescapably dead. As he reached his truck, he swallowed back the grief that drudged up, into a tight little ball down his throat. God, that was just gonna kill Mrs. H.
Puck remembered the woman's reaction when her son had first vanished – she had been frantic, which wasn't a surprise. It wasn't anything at first. Finn being sixteen, Mrs. H had just assumed that Finn had snuck out of the house to go see his girlfriend Quinn. Oh he would be grounded when he did come tip-toeing in, but she hadn't been concerned. After all, Finn was a good boy, but he was a boy, and she knew what that age was like. It may seem odd, but she didn't want to be one of those parents – something Puck had always liked about the woman. Realistically, she knew that if they really wanted to do something, a teenage boy would probably do it. All she could do was prepare him, minimizing the backlash when it bit him in the ass.
As the evening came; however, she had begun to worry. At first she had called Quinn, promising not to be angry, but was Finn with her, and the young girl had seemed genuinely confused, not having seen the tall boy all day. Puck had gotten the same call a little while later, around seven-thirty. At first he was going to answer that he had heard from the other boy, covering for his friend, simply assuming that Finn was out somewhere with Quinn trying to get lucky. Finn was his friend, but he had to admit that the other boy wasn't the sharpest; the Irish boy had probably forgotten the time, but he could tell by her tone that she was actually worried.
As soon as they had hung up, Puck had dialed Finn himself, and the phone had just rang and rang before the automated voice mail picked up. He just growled in frustration when it beeped. “Dry it off and call your mom dumb ass,” he'd said before hanging up and calling Quinn.
The Mohawked teen had been surprised when the cheerleader answered on the second ring, answering his question when she picked up, asking Finn's name. He had actually thought the other boy might be with her, but he could tell he'd been wrong. If Finn had been with Quinn like he'd thought he doubted she would have answered either. Puck had shaken his head even though the blond couldn't see him. “Have you seen him,” he had asked. “He's not picking up.”
“I know...” She sounded equal parts annoyed and worried to Puck. It wasn't the first time that Finn hadn't picked up the phone; the idiot had probably left his cellphone in his room when he'd left again. “His mother just called me.” Puck had 'hmm'd' in acknowledgment, the worry made more sense then.
He had thanked her absently, starting to think, before hanging up, telling her to keep an ear open, which she said she would. A little ticked buy that point he started to call the guys on the football team, absent Karofsky and Azimio. They would just laugh and make some half-ass joke. After that he'd called the other gleeks. Maybe Finn was off 'practicing some duet' with Man-hands.
He frowned at that, having no clue what his friend saw in Berry. Well, that wasn't true; she was likely to put out for him a lot faster then the president of the Chastity club. Of course, if all Finn wanted was to get laid he could have gone to Santana. Of course, Finn was a sap, Santana would have ripped him apart. Still, Rachel Barry? He'd rather join a monistary first.
Puck had shaken his head after that and gone back to his calls, trying to track down his wayward friend. Trying to understand Finn's brain made his head hurt, but he'd called Barry first all the same. When that came up a bust, he said his goodbyes quickly, having no desire to speak to her longer then necessary. He was on the phone for nearly an hour, but no one had seen or heard from the boy all day.
Around midnight, when no word had come he started to worry a little. He'd briefly thought about calling Azimio or Karofsky. He knew Finn was capable of taking care of himself, but if the jocks had gotten twitchy and grown more then the two brain cells between them... Well, height only went so far when brute strength was involved, and if they ganged up on him, but he had no proof yet. So he hopped in my truck and made my way to the Hudson house.
It was late yeah, but Puck hadn't been surprised at all when Mrs. H. had opened the door before he'd barely even knocked. “Hey...” was all he'd said to her, in a quiet, awkward voice that didn't suite him at all; absent was that confident, bad ass bravado that the boy always wore like a second skin. He'd never admit it in front of anyone else, but the woman standing with him then, was like a second mother to him, and at this point even he was starting to worry. Finn may be dense, and have the short term memory of a goldfish, but disappearing like he had wasn't like him, even to avoid punishment.
He didn't even bother to ask about Finn. His Surrogate mothers tousled hair and haggard appearance told him all that he needed; she'd greeted him in her bath robe and slippers, a cup of coffee that had no doubt long since gone cold in hand. The dim lamp light that shown from the open door illuminated her face. It was tight and drawn with worry; there were dark circles under her eye's like she'd stayed up long past her tolerance, waiting on Finn he knew, which explained the coffee. “Hello Noah,” she said tiredly, stepping aside to allow him in without prompting.
It had gone way beyond rebellious teenager, Puck decided, taking a seat on the couch as Mrs. H. went into the kitchen to refresh her coffee. He grimaced as he watched the late night news play silently on the muted television. He didn't want to think about the connotations behind such an innocent action. Just then it was some sap-story about the homeless that stayed in their tents down by the riverbank; it was muted, but the footage told him all that he needed to know. It was the implication that put the Pit in his stomach – Mrs H. was watching, waiting for the headline that said they'd found her son's body.
Puck called his own mother on the urgings of Mrs. H. when she came back in with two cups, handing the unasked for cup over without a word. His initial reaction had been to protest. Granted, it wasn't as if his mom was some low-rent welfare junkie who didn't take care of her family; it was only that Puck was used to taking care of himself – he had never been very dependent on others.
He found himself relenting; however, at the look from Mrs. H. He had his phone in hand calling his mom before the protest even gave voice. She was right anyway, no way did he wanna put his own mother though this, he had thought looking over at the TV with a sinking feeling. “Hey Ma,” he said when she picked up after a few rings. She was probably just settling down for bed, he knew. “Listen, I'm gonna stay over at Finn's tonight – I just wanted to let you know,” he told her gentler then he normally would. “I know it's a school night Ma, but the situations a bit complicated,” he retorted a bit irritably despite the circumstances.
He went silent for a minute when his mother inevitably asked about these special circumstances, looking at Mrs. H. as if she could hear the other half of the seemingly one-sided conversation, trying to decide, and silently asking what he should tell her. If he told her they both knew that it would be all over town by the next evening, but they both knew that it really wasn't a choice. “Finn's Missing Ma,” he said. “I'm staying with Mrs. H. tonight.” It wasn't a question, and he missed the sad but appreciative smile she shot him.
His Ma was predictably shocked, Finn wasn't as close to his mother as he was to Mrs. H., but Puck and Finn having grown up together, the older woman was quite familiar with the Irish boy. He rolled his eyes when the Jewish woman said that they should call the police; like they weren't gonna do that, he thought, but then looked guilty and a tad embarrassed as she nagged him, like she'd seen him roll his eyes. “Don't you roll your eyes at me Noah Isiah Puckerman!” She scolded and he winced at the pronouncing of his middle name, how did she do that! “All those demons walking around at night these days, anything could have happened to the poor boy...”
He paled at the mention of Vampires. He didn't hold the same opinions as his mother, mainly because he'd never met one, but he'd never even considered that. “I know Ma,” he relented. “I just wanted to check in.” They spoke a few minutes longer before his mom went up to bed, saying goodnight. He reciprocated before hanging up. “Goodnight Ma.”
There wasn't much conversation after that; they just sorta sat there in a tense silence. He should probably have said something, he knew, but what could he say that wasn't some false hope? Sure, he could tell her that everything would be alright, that it would all work out, and that Finn was gonna be fine; but they both knew it would only be pointless platitudes. He thought briefly about mentioning the possibility of Vampires, but he wasn't sure whether that would make matters better, or worse for the woman.
It was two hours later when Mrs. H finally broke and made the call to report her son as missing, and twenty minutes after that a squad car pulled up in front of the house, lights flashing silently. They were fortunate in that Finn was as old as he was; because, legally a person was forced to wait a minimum of seventy-two hours – three days – before a missing persons report could be filed, but since Finn had been just shy of seventeen he was still a minor, and people took that deathly serious, which Puck never understood. Who suddenly decided that children were more important then adults, and more important, why? Yes, OK they had their whole lives ahead of them, but life wasn't some Tribe episode, children just could not survive without an adult. He wasn't about to complain, though, because it worked in their favor this time.
Another thing, he decided, that was in their favor was that Lima was....Well, it was Lima, a relatively small place. It was no Mayberry, where everybody knew everybody and their mother; but it wasn't New York, or LA where people went missing as often as they changed outfits. Lima was a more tight-nit suburban city, and that was definitely likely to yield more in terms of cooperation, if only because everybody else was worried that the same could happen to them just as easily.
Additionally, the boy couldn't remember the last time he'd heard tale of an actual murder in Lima, which was encouraging at least. Sure there had been a couple of work related deaths, and one freak accident that he knew of; a bargeman had fallen overboard during his shift and been found the next morning, having decapitated himself on the rutter. It was with that thought that Puck got up to answer the door, squeezing Mrs. H's shoulder comfortingly.
As with all things, though, Finn's case inevitably went cold: Weeks went by turning to months, those months into a year; and the people around her became quietly sympathetic, giving her pitying looks. They never talked about it, but the people of Lima Ohio quietly accepted that Finn Hudson was dead, even if there was no proof. Finn became “That poor dead boy” and Mrs. H. was relegated similarly, but she never gave up. Choosing to believe that one day Finn would come home to her.
Puckzilla You'll Never Guess what I just saw...
Puck added that as his new status in a Facebook Post, and he wondered idly as he sat there, alone in the dark if he should worry that he was gossiping like some old yenta at a Temple social. Personally he blamed his mother, damn genetics; but he grinned when a reply came, not two minutes later.
Troutmouth If the next words out of your mouth are “Donkey Show” I am So logging off.
TheFury Dude that is so wrong lol
Puckzilla Rolls Eye's* One show and you're labeled for life!
Lonely Dancer So what'ya see, yo?
Puckzilla ...A Vamp.
Lonely Dancer No way, seriously? Where – what was it like?
Puck actually laughed out loud at the rapid-fire succession of the questions in his friends response to his answer. Actually, the boy's – Puck knew all three of these guys personally – interest in vampires, and by extension his personal interaction with one made since, but it was still funny. He could practically hear the eagerness that the questions conveyed as if he were talking to the boy in person.
He'd known that that boy would be the one with the most Justifiable interest in Vampires, probably in the whole city. Puck didn't like the term Hick town, it reflected badly on him, but he could guess the general attitude toward the Vampires and their rights movement – small religious towns were like that – and he knew that the boy in question wasn't likely to get a lot of reliable info. So, taking a second, he recalled what he could of his brief encounter with the vampire Kurt, including it in his response.
It was obvious to Puck that the Feminine boy, cause he certainly was that, was trying to blend in preferring to observe those around him. He held himself with a sort of snobby superiority that Puck wasn't sure was out of place. After all, he could have torn him and the teacher apart. Remembering that, and the boy's – even though it was obvious to him Kurt was old, at least eighty if Puck read between the lines right. The Dainty boy had been in Germany during World War II, he was probably older then even that. - interaction with Finn he shivered. Kurt was obviously gay, and had turned Finn....
Puckzilla Dude put the Wammy on Mrs. McClellen! ...Not that I like the old bitch much.
Troutmouth You mean he did that glamour thing everybody says they do? Awesome.
Puckzilla Yeah, it was weird. I don't know how to explain it; like all the heat drained from the room, and everything went deathly still. It felt... Well, dead, but thats not all...
Lonely Dancer What is it?
Puckzilla Finn was with him.
TheFury What? Shit man...
Lonely Dancer Dude, that's not Funny, yo...
Puckzilla Does it Look like I'm Fucking joking?
Troutmouth ...Do you think he's been...
Puckzilla I don't Think.
Puckzilla I Know he has. Dude almost ripped my throat out! Said he still had issues with Ppl.
Lonely Dancer Makes sense. I mean Finn's not that old. In terms of Vampire age he'd still be a New Born, considering how old Vamps can get. If he viewed you as any sort of threat to him, or his maker, who for all intent and purpose is like a parent, his instinct would be to defend.
Lonely Dancer Imagine if someone threatened you, or your Mom and Sister.
TheFury How do you know all this crap?
Lonely Dancer Some of our reading comprehension is higher then “See Spot Run.”
TheFury Fuck You Fairy boy!
Lonely Dancer Oo Throwing Stones now? I don't think that pretty bot of yours would appreciate that. What'a ya think Sam? :)
Puckzilla Right Im out...
Lonely Dancer What, don't wanna know how many balls he can put in his mouth now? Lol
TheFury Wait! Dude, what are ya gonna tell Quinn?
Fuck, what was he gonna say to her? He'd forgotten all about her. Should he even bother, he wondered? She would find out soon he knew, but she was just starting to move on. On the other hand, if he didn't tell her, and she found out some other way... He could always just let her run into Finn on her own. She was bound to at some point, but the fallout could be worse, and Finn would probably mention seeing him before hand and then he'd get bitched at for not saying anything...
It would probably be better to prepare her.
Fuck!
**
Finn Hudson sat in the drivers side of Kurt's Navigator, leading them to his Mom's house with a nasty look on his face, as if he'd just swallowed something particularly foul; and wasn't that just a slap in the face? He no longer thought of the house he grew up in as his anymore. Sure, it was true that everyone left home eventually, but something about that realization was particularly jarring. Maybe the fact that you're a blood sucking fiend, he wondered sarcastically as he took a swig of the red, half empty bottle and grimaced.
Ok, so, maybe not blood sucking, he admitted a bit dejected. “You know, when you said '...Bite to eat.' I thought you actually meant that I could get, you know, an actual bite, not this True Blood crap,” the boy complained. True Blood was the name given to the genetically cloned blood introduced by the Japanese in two-thousand-five. Originally it was meant for medical purposes, a source of fresh, untainted blood, as it supposedly had all the necessary qualities of human blood. It was a year later in two-thousand-six with the success of the new medical marvel that the Vampires came out of the coffin, as humans called it. The claims about the cloned blood were true, and as such, could meet the dietary needs of a vampire, but being an adequate dietary substitute did not mean it was palatable – the same could be said of growl. “It tastes like ass.”
Kurt looked at the young vampire questioningly, choosing to ignore Finn's slip of the tongue. It wasn't that such language bothered him, far from it. He had heard far worse in times past, but in the two years since the boy's making Kurt had heard him swear less then a hand full of times; most prominent among those few being when the boy discovered what he'd become. For Finn to swear, he must feel very strongly.
Kurt was well aware of the undesirability of the cloned blood. Yes it had all their dietary requirements, but it was like having balonia after a decade of tee-bone, or more appropriate giving an infant formula after he becomes accustomed to mothers milk – it works, but it's not the same. It was that that egged Kurt on, when if he were softer he might have spoiled the taller boy. “I don't know, I kinda like it,” he said feigning thought. “I was always what they call an Ass man.”
Finn gaped at him, cheeks flushing with recently supplied blood, attempting to stammer a reply. He didn't know for sure if it was more what he said, or the fact that he'd said it at all, which only made Kurt laugh, and the teen blush harder. Kurt decided that he would take pity on Finn, he was so adorably innocent. “I know sweetie, but going though the city draining the people would be.... counterproductive,” he placated the former jock. “Besides, you are a newborn, and blood today is sadly not as pure as it once was. The True Blood is enough.”
Finn scowled at the shorter boy's comment about newborns, but chose to say nothing about it. It didn't help that it was technically true. He had only been a vampire for a couple of years and that was extremely young in comparison, but being nineteen that didn't make it any less condescending. Still, even though he may not be the sharpest, he recognized an opportunity when he saw one, and he seized it. He had also noticed that Kurt had said that the cloned blood was enough, not that it was necessarily what was best for him. “Oh come on, even if that is true then I should definitely have the real stuff,” the boy argued smiling at Kurt. His dorkish charm was in full effect as he shifted in the drivers seat, hindered from getting closer by the divider between them. He tied to use Kurt's logic against him. ”It's like you said, I'm a Newborn, right? So shouldn't I have the healthy stuff.” He eyed Kurt, eyes shining with hope despite the lack of light.
Kurt smirked, openly chuckling at Finn's blatant attempt to manipulate him. It was devious and low, but he had to hand it to the boy – not a bad effort for someone so inexperienced. He had never forced Finn the way most of their kind would, but he had never hidden his intention toward the boy either. As a result, he supposed that in a way, Finn's little play had worked; the performance did deserve a reward of some sort, so he caved. “Oh fine, if you do well at this little reunion, you can have some blood.”
The mention of a reunion distracted Finn and he missed the smirk on Kurt's face as they got out of the Navigator. The color seemed to drain from his already pale features, and he gulped nervously, ignoring the way his stomach clenched the closer he got to the door. “Do we really have to do this Kurt?” He asked sounding strangely hopeful that Kurt would say that they could turn around and leave. How would his mother react, did she like Vampires? They had never really talked about it; really, who expected a Vampire in Lima, and would you listen to him? He sounded like a nervous teenage boy -Granted, he was – who was about to introduce his gay ethnic boyfriend to his possibly homophobic parents!
Plus, Ranting!
He was so nervous, the wood porch seemed to creak exceptionally loud under their feet as they reached the door, damn vampire senses. “No, we do not,” Kurt admitted passively. To be honest, he was questioning this as well. When he had been turned the concept of revealing ones self to their human family was near unheard of; the few he had never ended well. “However, as things are, if she doesn't know already I have no doubt she will by morning. Your attractive friend will make sure of that, I'm sure.”
Finn glared sourly, but he couldn't argue Kurt's point either. With technology today, the internet, email, facebook, people communicated instantly worldwide. He had no doubt that his friends already knew something, if not from Puck himself then probably Quinn. He didn't need to guess that the Jewish boy had probably told her. So, squaring his shoulders he rang the bell twice. He could hear the tones outside; and it was so messed up that he even had to ring the bell anyway.
After a second, and heavy footsteps later, that definitely weren't his mothers, the door opened, and lamp-light spilled out. A burly bear of a man stood on the other side, and Finn narrowed his eyes at the Flannel, trucker hat wearing man that was in what was supposed to be his mom's house. Had she moved while he was gone, Puck would have told him right? “Who are you,” he demanded suspiciously.
Something about the large man made Finn's heckles rise, as the man stood in the door with his arms folded frowning. “It's considered polite to introduce yourself before you go demanding other peoples names.” The man retorted gruffly, eying Finn, not at all happy with the tall boys tone.
Sensing a fast deteriorating situation as the teen stepped forward intimidatingly, stopping just at the doorstep, towering over the older man, Kurt spoke. There was no need for a confrontation; although, he eyed the man critically as well. “I'm Kurt, this is Finn Hudson,” he said cordially. He seemed unaffected by the fast building tension. “Is Mrs. Hudson available?”
There was a spark of recognition on the man's face when he heard Finn's name, looking at him closely, but before he could say anything there was a loud exclamation and hurried footsteps. “Finn,” a woman's voice called excited and a tad desperately as she reached them. “Finn, honey, is that you?!”
He wanted to answer her, but as she stood there in front of him now, all he could do was not mutely, as she stood there looking at him for the first time in two years. His throat clamped shut looking at the tears glistening in her eyes; and Suddenly he found himself with an arm full of crying mom. Not sure exactly what to do, he just held her as she wept. She practically wailed with relief as she held him, trembling as if afraid that he might vanish from her arms like a specter, and all he could do was hold her.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat as he felt something warm and slightly sticky trail down his face. He quickly and harshly wiped it away, seeing red smears on his hand. He hoped his face wasn't too red. He was grad his mom didn't see it. He sorta wanted to cry too, but that would not go well just then.
He was so caught up that he nearly missed his mother talking. “Come in, come in,” she was saying hurriedly as she pulled away, whipping her eyes with a watery smile. “Come in both of you, you must be starving.” Still holding on to Finn she led them over the empty doorway and into the house. Her guest must have gone back in to give them some privacy.
Kurt, never one to forget his manners, answered for them with a smile. “No thank you Ma'am,” he declined politely. “We ate before arriving.” He skillfully omitted that Finn was unable to eat food, not actually lying to her. “I'm Kurt, it's nice to meet you.”
“Carole,” she introduced herself with a kind, and grateful smile, as she shook his hand. “It's wonderful to meet you.” She gestured for him to take a seat, which he did next to Finn. “Thank you so much for bringing my baby home.” Kurt just nodded, not willing to acknowledge her farther. Oh this was going to be bad. “I have the reward of course...”
He cut her off with a gesture. “I want no reward ma'am. He was well aware of the reward she was offering for any information on her son's disappearance. It had been broadcast on national television eight months after Finn had disappeared, they both had seen it. He didn't think the woman would be so kind by the end of this.
“You're very kind,” she conceded easily. After all, the United States was still in a recession; she couldn't really afford the reward, but she would have happily given it. After she'd offered the reward there had been thousands of tips, all bogus dead ends, but then here was this boy who had not a tip, but had brought her son to her. If the situation were any different she would have questioned that, but Finn was here. She didn't care, she'd give the boy everything if he asked it.
Finn broke the awkward silence, asking about the man who had answered the door, and Kurt listened intently. Carole seemed to hesitate a moment, looking at Finn, as if trying to predict how he might react. Kurt's lips twitched, unnoticed by the two. He could already guess who the man was, in the abstract at any rate, and if he were being more observant, so would Finn. The older man was obviously a suitor of Carole's in some fashion, his musk was all over the house.
“Oh, that's Burt Hummel,” she decided to say, and Kurt sat up a bit, intrigued to hear his family name attached to the man. He had kept track of his family for a while after he was turned. Names changed and shifted with Time and marriage, but he recognized it. He had not heard it in a long time, but was it possible? Interesting, he thought. “You know him, runs Hummel Tires in town. He's a friend...”
Kurt nodded to himself, definitely a boyfriend, he knew. It always started as a friend, then later an Uncle, and finally a new stepfather. The titles may change, but it was essentially the same; at least Finn wasn't the Bastard child. It seemed that Finn had come to much the same conclusion; his brow was furrowed, and his jaw tightened. He clearly did not approve of this development, and wanted to say as much, but Kurt rested a hand on the boys thigh, gently squeezing, silently communicating. That was not why they were there. He relaxed slightly at the contact, but Kurt knew that it wasn't over.
Carole appearance noticed the interaction, and was silently watching them with the analytical eye of a mother. “Can I ask how you two met,” she asked cautiously. It was clear to her that the two were very close. She would even hazard a guess and say they had a relationship of some sort. She had a million questions really, the biggest being what happen to her son when he disappeared, and she guessed that this boy knew something. “What happened?”
The loaded question, Kurt sighed and prepared himself for the inevitable fallout. He wasn't particularly concerned no, but that didn't mean that he would enjoy it. He looked at Finn who was watching him, hesitating, and simply nodded. It would happen seen enough, better to control it. He watched as Finn stood up in the center of the room. “Mom, there's something you should know..” he hesitated then took the plunge with a sigh. Suddenly his Fangs extended, exposed to Carole Hudson who gasped in shock, eyes wide. “I'm a Vampire...”
The room was silent for what seemed like ages until the thud of Burt Hummel descended the stairs, in his heavy boots, and the unmistakable cocking of a Rifle. “Get the hell out, you aren't welcome here....”