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American Hudmel Story


After Burt and Carole's recent wedding, the Hudson-Hummel family decide that they want a fresh new start. Unfortunately, they are unaware that their new home is haunted by its past inhabitants.

Horror / Thriller
Megan Walsh
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:


Present day

"Is it just me, or is the sun brighter out here?" Finn asked innocently, beaming out the window.

His step-brother looked up from his copy of Vogue, raising a well-plucked eyebrow. "First of all, Finn, it's Los Angeles, so of course it's a lot brighter than Lima. Second, it's not sun. It's smog."

"Ah, come on," Burt muttered, grinning at the two teenagers in the backseat. "Whatever it is, it's nice. Just be glad we're not in Ohio, Kurt."

Kurt silently agreed, and closed his magazine. "I need the bathroom."

"We're on the freeway," Carole reminded him, not looking up from her book. "We can't. Anyway, it's only a few miles away."

Finn blinked innocently before mumbling, "Mom, I need the bathroom too. Can we pull over?"

The older teenager rolled his eyes. "Let me guess; the bumbling baby wants to pee so now we can pull over."

"Kurt," Burt warned, not taking his eyes off the road. "You know what, I'm glad me and your Mom named you Kurt instead of her other choice sometimes..."

"Which was?" Kurt asked, not quite sure if he wanted to hear it.

"Well, there was Gabriel," Burt started, and he was grinning again. "And then she suggested Felix because it meant 'happy'."

Finn chuckled and Carole tried to hide her smile. Kurt glared at the older man. "Ha Ha. Very funny dad."


"Holy shit."

"Finn, don't swear."

"But Mom...Holy Grilled Cheesus. Look at the house!"

The house in question was...big. It loomed before the Hudmel family, and the eldest teenager – Kurt – guessed that it was Victorian. "How old do you think it is?" He asked, looking at his father and step-mother for confirmation.

"I dunno," Burt answered, shrugging slightly. He didn't sound all too impressed by the house, which confused Kurt because it was amazing. "But it's old. Real old."

The four family members got out of the car and surveyed the neighbourhood; it seemed nice, although it was obvious that the house kind of stood out against the other houses on the street.

"Hello," A chirpy voice said from behind them, and they turned to look at the speaker. "I'm Marcy, your realtor." She shook hands with each of them, still smiling brightly. "Shall we take a look around?"


"Oh my God!" Kurt exclaimed, not able to contain himself. "Those are real Tiffany fixtures! And the stained glass...it's so pretty!" He smiled sadly, and his eyes drifted upwards to meet his father's gaze.

They match Mom's eyes, huh?

"...You can see the previous homeowners covered the mural over there up." She eyed Kurt up slightly before adding, "As you can tell, they were gay as the Fourth of July."

The teen raised an eyebrow just as Carole started talking. "I see...so would we be able to peel the wallpaper off then?" She paused. "If we buy the house, that is."

"Please do," Marcy nodded, still smiling insanely. "Now, I'm afraid that before you even consider buying the house, you need to know what happened to the previous owners. Full disclosure requirements and such."

Burt and Carole shared a look. "They didn't die in here, did they?" Burt asked, joking around.

There was a long pause, and all four family members turned to stare at Marcy with wide eyes.

"I'm afraid so," She sighed after a moment. "Murder-Suicide." Her smile instantly reappeared. "Would you like to take a look upstairs?"

Kurt felt something – someone – tug on his jumper, and looked up to see Finn, who was biting his lip. "What, Finn?"

"I saw the basement door earlier," Finn started, talking a mile a minute. "But I don't wanna go down there on my own...especially because of what happened to the last owners."

The shorter boy rolled his eyes. "What do you think is going to happen to you? It was a Murder-Suicide." He paused. "Finn...you do know what that is, right?"

The taller teen blinked dumbly.

"It means one of the owners killed his partner," Kurt told him impatiently. "And then he committed suicide to be with him. Now, you can stop worrying about a gun-wielding psychopath in the house, and you can stop holding on to my cardigan sleeve."

"Please come to the basement with me!"

"No. Finn, I want to look upstairs...after all, if we buy this house, I want the best room."


"So, the reason the house is so cheap is because of...well, what happened to the last owners, right?" Carole guessed. Marcy nodded. "I see."

"It's honestly a lovely house," Marcy said, looking hopeful. "The last two owners were lovely gentlemen, and they will be missed dearly." She smiled brightly once again. "The house has a lot of character, don't you think?"

Burt and Carole looked at each other, not so sure. "I dunno..." Burt muttered. "I'm not all that comfortable with the hist-"

"We'll take it."

All three adults turned to look at the person who had spoken – Kurt, who had mysteriously managed to enter the room unnoticed.

"What?" He defended, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "It's a nice house, and it has so much potential."

From behind him, Finn appeared. Having caught on what the conversation was about, he nodded in agreement. "I like it too. Like...it's kinda cool, in a weird Goth way...and I can play the drums without the neighbours complaining, 'cause the house is so big."

Marcy turned to look at Burt and Carole, waiting for their final decision. "Ah, what the Hell?" Burt grumbled, knowing he was beaten. "We'll take it."


Kurt hummed to himself as he folded a sweater, looking around for his set of drawers. He wasn't quite used to his new room yet, but he liked it; it had a chalkboard, so he could write down fashion ideas and notes, maybe even draw out a few basic designs. And, okay, maybe the room did need a little paint job, but that could be easily done.

"That's a pretty tune you're humming."

Kurt jumped, spinning around to look at who'd just spoken. "Huh?"

The person stepped forwards; a teenage boy around Kurt's age. He had gelled hair and was wearing a rather interesting outfit consisting of tight red pants, a grey jumper over a white button-up and a red and yellow bowtie. Not to mention he was rather handsome too.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, snapping out of the daze he'd been in so. He glared at the mysterious boy. "Get out! DAD-"

"No!" The boy stepped forwards quickly, hands raised defensively. "I'm meant to be here!" He bit his lip. "I'm...I'm going to start working for your dad soon. He's a mechanic, right?"

Kurt's eyes still wide from fright as he spoke, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yeah...I don't know how he's going to work though...I mean, we only just moved here..." He paused for a moment. "How did you get into my room? I mean, the door was shut..."

"That's weird," The boy flopped onto Kurt's bed, not bothering to ask for permission, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers. "I'm Blaine by the way."

"I'm...I'm Kurt."

Blaine grinned again. "Kurt...that's a pretty name."

"My mother liked The Sound of Music," Kurt said, somewhat defensively. "My dad just agreed because it rhymes with his name, and he thought it would be cool to have a son with a rhyming name to his."

"Better than mine," The shorter boy's eyes crinkled as he chuckled. "I was named after that rich kid from Pretty in Pink – it's just spelt differently."

"I love that movie," Kurt admitted, blushing a little. He was still kind of creeped out by the fact that some teenage boy had probably broken into his room...but his Dad and Carole were just down the hall unpacking, so if Blaine tried anything he could just yell to him. "It's one of my favourites, after Moulin Rouge and Chicago."

Blaine's eyes widened slightly. "You've seen Moulin Rouge? It's one of the best musicals ever made!"

"Yeah," Kurt agreed slowly. "It's just...perfect. I mean it's funny, it's sad, it's romantic...it's everything that a love story should be."

Blaine nodded and gave a small, sly smile. "Do you have a boyfriend, Kurt?" Kurt shook his head. "That's not right. You're an attractive guy – I'd certainly date you."

Huh…maybe this Blaine guy was alright.


This truly is awful wallpaper, Carole mused, not sure whether or not she should make a start on peeling to off the wall yet. Maybe I should wait for Kurt or someone who actually knows what to do...

"You're going to die in here."

Carole would willingly admit it; she let out a scream and jumped, spinning around to face the person who'd spoken. She found herself face to face with a presumably teenage girl; she was blonde, wore glasses, and clearly had Down's syndrome. She stared straight at the older woman, a very dark expression on her face.


A tall woman walked through the door, scowling at the young teenager; the woman also had short blonde hair – shorter than the girl's – and looked to be in her fifties. "Becky, I thought I told you to watch Dora the Explorer."

Becky rolled her eyes. "I don't wanna watch that! It's boring and babyish!"

"Uhm," Carole interrupted, feeling very much like she was losing it. "What are you doing in my house?"

The woman turned to look at her, a grim expression still on her face. "We're your new neighbours." She looked at Becky and put her arm around her. "This is Becky, my daughter." She paused. "Adopted, that is."

Carole blinked. "I...I see..."

"Becky, go and check on Robin," The woman ordered. Becky frowned but stomped off to do as she was told. The woman watched her go to make sure, and turned to face Carole. "I'm Sue, by the way. Sue Sylvester."


Sue sat herself on one of the chairs, making herself at home immediately. "You just moved in?" Carole nodded slowly. "I see."

"How did you get into my house?" Carole asked, feeling slightly off about everything.

Sue tilted her head to the side. "You left the door open...All I have to say is that it's a rather careless thing to do, even with the presence of burly helper men."


"And about Becky," Sue carried on, not aware of the reaction she was getting. "She says things like that to everyone - she has something about this house, always has." The older woman sat up straighter. "No matter what, she always finds a way in here. So if you see a little figure waddling around, then that's her."

Carole had to admit, this woman was rather outspoken – and terrifying, if she was honest. "Well...my husband and I have no problem with her coming here – at the right time and place, of course." She paused. "Maybe she'd like to...I dunno, hang out with my boys."

Sue blinked, alert like a hawk. "You have children?"

Carole smiled, nodding. "I have a son and a step-son...I recently got remarried."

A brief smile graced Sue's tired face. "That's nice, I guess. I'm not married – not anymore. No man is good enough for Sue Sylvester."

No man is crazy enough, Carole thought to herself.

"...And then I had my ovaries removed, thinking I'd never want kids. So when I did want one, I adopted instead." She shrugged. "Better this way; no diapers to clean and no screaming babies." She stopped, realising she was talking too much. "Anyway, I came to give you a house-warming gift," She started, standing up and eying the other woman's clothes distastefully. "I should have just gotten you an outfit that doesn't include denim."

That's rich, Carole thought to herself, she’s saying that while standing in a tracksuit.

Sue reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box; she tossed it at Carole. "Don't burn it all at once."

"Wait," Carole started as she left the room. "What do you-"

"It's a candle, Sally Field," Sue bit out, not turning back. Her voice echoed around the hall. "Meant to keep the bad spirits away...some crap like that."


Kurt hated the new school.

He hated how he was forced to wear a uniform every day of the week, blending in with all the other boys.

He hated that this meant he couldn't express himself through his clothing.

He hated being the new kid and openly gay in an all-boys school (hey, he was only human).

Thankfully Dalton Academy had a zero-tolerance for bullying policy, so at least no one would beat him up for being out. Actually, up until the end of the day, nothing abnormal had happened, and he was even considering auditioning for the school's glee club.

Then it changed.

"Is that a hippo broach you're wearing?" Someone asked incredulously. Kurt turned to look at him; a boy around his own height with CW hair and a face that strongly resembled a meerkat was smirking at him.

"Yes," Kurt said, straightening up and gripping his bag tighter. "It is."

The boy barked out a laugh. "Good grief," He muttered in a half-chuckle.

Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly. "What's wrong with it?" He snapped angrily, and the other teenager stopped laughing immediately. "Is it that you can't afford things like this, or the fact that you clearly have no idea what's in fashion?"

Meerkat-face took a step closer. "Oh, really?" He asked, his voice turning low. "What's your name, huh?"

"Kurt Hummel."

The boy laughed again. "Wow, someone's parents hated them." He eyed Kurt up for a moment. "Yup. You're gay."

"Nice deduction skills," Kurt retorted sarcastically. "What gave it away; my voice or my face?"

"My gaydar," Meerkat-face answered, raising his eyebrows higher. "Now, I was actually asking about the brooch because it's against school rules to wear items that aren't school uniform."

Kurt blinked, not sure if this boy was for real. "It's a brooch. It's not hurting anybody-"

The boy stepped even closer. "Take it off, or I'll make you wish you had."

Kurt eyed him up and down; since he didn't believe in violence, his chances of winning a fight weren't all too great anyway. "Go on then. Dalton has a zero tolerance for bullying and violence, so you'd just get expelled."

"Not if it's off-campus, princess," The boy stepped past Kurt, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Make sure the brooch is gone by tomorrow, or I'll report you to the headmaster."


This kid really needs to tone down the hair gel, Burt thought, eying the young man in front of him. "Look, kid," Burt muttered. "I'm not kidding around here – I need a job."

"I can help," The teenager offered, looking annoyed at the fact he had to mention it again. "I'm Blaine Anderson by the way." He cleared his throat. "Mister O'Reilly from downtown owns a motor shop. He's...gravely ill." Blaine gave a small – but cocky – smile. "When he dies, someone will need to take over the shop."

Burt raised an eyebrow. "What illness?"

"Terminal brain cancer, apparently." Blaine clasped his hands together expectantly. "I'm friendly with his wife, so I know."

Burt sighed to himself, not sure what to make of this. "How do you know who I am? Or where I live? We only just got here-"

"Oh, I have a friend that lives in Ohio," Blaine said without hesitating. "He used to get his car done at your old shop all the time, and was really pissed when you moved away." Blaine took a step closer. "And, let's face it, everyone knows about this house and it's...history. So it's nothing short of easy to find out who's moved in."

The older man nodded to himself. "I guess so, what with the last guys and stuff..."

Blaine gave another cocky smile. "I'll leave now; I'm sure you and your family are very busy with moving in." He stood up, looking around the kitchen. The look on his face, admittedly, creeped Burt out a little. "Nice house."

And with that, he left.


"I cannot believe you tried to wash the blazers," Kurt face-palmed himself, shaking his head for effect. "Carole, you have to dry-clean these things, not just stick them in a washing machine!"

"I'm so sorry," Carole bit out somewhat sarcastically. "I don't usually have to dry-clean clothes when they can easily be washed."

"But it will ruin the colouring!"

"Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at the person who'd spoken; a little old Latina lady who was wearing a very stereotypical maid's outfit.

"Can we help?" Carole asked, going back to hanging the washing.

The lady smiled. "You can just dry them inside. There's a purifier too, so it smells nice."

Kurt snorted. "Please! Carole prefers it this way." His voice went up an octave mockingly. "It's more natural this way."

As Carole sent a good natured swat at his head, the lady smiled. "I see. I'm Santana Lopez, the housekeeper of the house." Kurt and Carole looked at each other. "I work Monday through to Saturday, and I take Christmas off."

Carole hesitated before speaking, clearly feeling bad. "I'm not really looking for a housekeeper..."

Santana just smiled. "What are you using to clean the floorboards?"

Carole blushed, the answer evident on her face.

"White vinegar," Santana said, smiling even more. "It doesn't leave marks." She chuckled to herself. "You've never owned a house this old before, have you?"


Santana sighed, becoming more serious. "This house has a personality and feelings; if you don't look after it properly, you'll regret it." She paused. "May I come in? My cab left, and I'll have to call for another one."


"Do you want a coffee?" Carole asked, trying to be polite.

"Yes," Kurt said without looking up from his copy of Vogue. "You know how I like it, Carole..."

She rolled her eyes. "You can get your own, Mister."

"I'd prefer a tea," Santana answered politely. "No sugars and a little milk."

While Carole set to make it, Kurt looked up from his magazine. "So, you're used to working here then?"

Santana nodded, smiling at the memories. "Yes. I've worked here for many years. Owners come and go, and I just...stay here. The ones before you were nice men...their daughter was nice too, if a little bossy." Carole put the tea in front of her, and she smiled in thanks. "In fact, I'm the one who found the bodies."

Carole and Kurt shared a look, daring each other to ask the question on both of their minds. "How..." Carole started nervously, not wanting to stir any bad memories up. "I mean, what happened? Not that we're looking for a gossip..."

"No, it's alright," Santana assured her, stirring her tea around with the spoon given to her. "They fought a lot..." She looked down. "Money, I think. The daughter was into all that theatrical business, and the move here drained most of their money. The daughter wasn't too happy with not being able to continue her singing and dancing." She shrugged, giving a little sigh. "Who knows? Who can say?" She finished stirring her tea and went to take a sip. "Sometimes people just go...mad."

Kurt coughed, looking rather pale. Carole looked down at the table, not sure what to say to anything the maid was saying.

"I cleaned the mess up," Santana continued, and it surprised Carole that she was still smiling. "Don't worry. You'd never know."

"Do you get tired of cleaning up other people's messes?" Kurt asked suddenly, and Carole turned to glare slightly at him. "I mean...surely it's a pain."

Santana's smile disappeared. "I'm a woman – it's what we do." Her lips turned upwards again. "I just get paid for it, so it's a win-win I guess."

Carole grinned at this, and even Kurt managed a smile. After a few seconds, the teenager leaned closer to his step-mother, making sure Santana was busy sipping her tea. "Hire her," He pleaded in a low whisper, adding a look for effect.

Carole bit her lip, and sighed in defeat. "Santana...when can you start working?"

Santana grinned gratefully. "Wednesday would be better, but I can make it work tomorrow."

"Sorry I'm late, damn traffic-"

Burt, who'd just walked into the kitchen, halted as his eyes fell on the other person in the kitchen.

Some Latina girl – no older than Kurt or Finn – was sat in one of the kitchen chairs, short black miniskirt hitched around her thighs and slim legs crossed; her shirt was unbuttoned to display just enough cleavage to appear sexy, and Burt suddenly had the rather uncomfortable feeling that the flirtatious smirk on her face was directed at him.

"You must be Mrs Hudson-Hummel's husband," The maid purred, batting long eyelashes in his direction.

He shifted uncomfortably and turned to his wife. "W-Who's she?"

Carole shot him a confused look, not seeing what was the matter. "This is Santana Lopez-"

"She's working for us," Kurt cut in, looking back down at his copy of Vogue.

Santana stood up, and Burt could see that she was wearing stockings, not so discretely highlighted by her short skirt. "Pleased to meet you," She murmured seductively.

Ah crap. I'm screwed.

"Yeah," Burt muttered, looking down so that he could avoid her eyes. "Pleased to meet you too."

In the distance, a car horn honked. Santana smiled. "That's my cab. I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Mister Hummel."

"Wait," Carole cut in before she could leave. "Santana, you don't have to wear that outfit when you work here...I don't mind what you wear-"

"I don't like cleaning other people's houses in my own clothes," Santana interrupted, looking straight at Burt for a few seconds. "I'd better go. I'll show myself out."

Burt couldn't help but breathe out in relief once he heard the front door shut behind her, and he slumped against the kitchen countertop.

"Isn't she great?" Kurt asked, looking like Christmas had come early. "I was wondering how the hell we were going to clean the whole house...I mean, I don't see Carole doing it..."

Carole went slightly red. "No...I guess that's true..."

"Well..." Burt said stiffly, still feeling weak. "I mean, do we really need the help?"

Kurt shot him a filthy look. "Dad, she seems trustworthy, knows the house well and…honestly? We could use the help." When his father didn't say anything, Kurt jumped down from his seat. "I'm going to my room," He decided. "I have homework to do, and GaGa knows how long that will take..."

"Advanced, huh?" Carole asked, looking interested.

Kurt nodded. "Very. I'm not sure how Finn's coping, especially since I'm having trouble." He stopped. "Where is Finn anyway?"


"You're a really good singer."

Rachel laughed, high and clear. "Thank You! I've been training since I was about two."

"That is so cool," Finn said, mouth hanging open. "I wish I could sing, but I only really do it in the showers and stuff."

"I'm sure you're good," Rachel assured him. "Really. Any practice is good, as long as you don't stress your vocal chords too much. That is key."

Rachel was so pretty...well, apart from her lack of boobs, but she was pretty nonetheless. Even if she wasn't though, he did go to an academy full of boys, so any girls were a welcomed change. And, anyway, she was kind of clever, especially when it came to singing.

"So, do you want to be a singer when you're older?"

Rachel's smile faltered slightly; it was only for a second, but Finn caught it easily. "Yeah. Well, I did...but plans change." She gave him another million-watt smile. "Your garden is pretty. Really. I like the roses over there-"

"Oh, no," Finn interrupted clumsily, flushing slightly when he realised he was being rude. "Sorry. But the old owners must have planted them here, like...the ones before us. It definitely wasn't us."

Rachel smiled silkily sweet. "I guessed. They're gorgeous, and they must have had good taste." Then she smirked to herself, in an almost secretive way. "They had a daughter, you know? I heard she was amazing."

Finn thought Rachel was amazing.


Carole hummed a tune to herself, shifting the weight of emptied boxes in her arms as she looked up at the ceiling for a way into the attic. Most of their things had been unpacked, so she'd decided to keep the boxes in the attic – just in case they happened to move again.

She put the boxes down as she caught sight of the little rectangular door in the ceiling, and reached up on her tiptoes to pull the little chord hanging down. Luckily, she could just about reach it, and smiled to herself in success when the door opened, some steps dropping down. Carole heaved the boxes into her arms again, and made her way up to the attic so that she could get rid of them.

That was when she heard it; a rustle. She stopped smiling and humming, to look around the space she was in; the attic was large - large enough to be a bedroom, with a little bed and window tucked away in the corner. Carole turned around, feeling slightly off about the whole thing...

And then she came face to face with it – a rubber suit of some kind, suspended from the wall by chains or hooks or something...

She dropped the boxes out of shock, a little scream of surprise escaping her. She heard heavy footsteps from behind her, and large hands on her shoulders. "What?" She heard her husband ask. She didn't answer – she didn't need to. "Holy crap!"


Burt let out a snort. "I see...the last guys were into kinky stuff..."

More footsteps sounded from behind them. "Holy shit," They heard Finn mutter, and the sound of Kurt swatting at his step-brother.

"What is that?" Kurt asked in disdain.

Burt laughed. "It's a rubber suit."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, but why is it here?"

"It must have belonged to the last owners," Carole guessed, still somewhat shocked by it.

"It's a bondage suit," Finn said quickly, excited that he finally knew something that the rest of his family didn't. "Like, someone puts it on, and then...uh, yeah. You get the point." He went red, avoiding everyone's eyes.

Kurt shuddered. "Please, throw it away." He looked at the two adults sternly. "Although I certainly don't intend on using it, I do not want you two using it either."

Finn went even redder at this. "I...uh...homework," He muttered, tripping over his feet as he tried to leave the attic quickly.

Burt coughed. "No. Kurt, I just had a heart attack. Do you really think-"


"-that putting on a rubber suit-"


"-and having sex-"

"Oh my God!" Kurt snapped, voice much higher than usual; he stuck his fingers in his ears, chanting "lalalala I can't hear you!" to himself and walked away quickly.

Carole glared at her husband. "I agree with the boys; just get rid of it without scarring anyone for life."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you sure?"

"Just do it!"


"Take it off!"

"Get off of me now!"

"Not until you take off the fucking brooch!"

"Bite me, Meerkat!"

The shoved Kurt onto the floor, teeth bared and eyes glinting like a wild animal. "Don't tempt me, Betty White!"

This was, of course, afterschool and off Dalton grounds; Kurt had gone to get a coffee, and found on his way back that he'd been followed. Kurt had found out that the Meerkat was called Sebastian through one of his classmates, and at that moment had trouble biting back a witty line comparing him to the crab from The Little Mermaid.

"Take the damn thing off!" Sebastian yelled, now trying to yank it forcefully from Kurt's uniform.

Kurt knew he should have just taken it off – he was getting kind of bored of wearing the same brooch every day, and he was desperate to wear the one that Blaine had given him (an utterly gorgeous violin brooch, coloured blue and with fake strings). But on the other hand Kurt didn't want Sebastian to win, and it was for a good cause.

"I'm not going to hit you, if that's what you want!" Kurt hissed through his teeth, even though he wanted to do so badly. However, the other teenager's hands wouldn't stop pulling at his clothes, so he had no choice.

He shoved Sebastian away from him, causing him to trip backwards and land on the ground. Kurt took the opportunity to reach backwards and open the driver's door of his car, stumbling slightly to get in quickly. Sebastian, seemingly shocked, got to his feet just as Kurt shut the car door and revved up the engine. The car pulled away, the taller teenager banging on the window and yelling loudly to try and stop him.

Kurt only breathed out of relief when he was a mile away from the shop.


"Kurt, are you bleeding?"

Kurt's hand quickly reached up, touching his eyebrow and smearing red across his face. "Oh. Yeah. It's only a small cut, Carole. Don't worry."

Carole sighed and beckoned him over. "Come and sit down. I'll clean you up." Kurt didn't even bother protesting, and sat down in the offered kitchen chair. "I thought you didn't get into fights."

"I don't," Kurt mumbled as his step-mother went through the cupboards for a first aid kit. "He got me."

Carole paused, her fingers resting on top of the kit. "I see." She pulled the object out and shut the cupboard door before pulling another chair out from under the table. She sat opposite the teenager, biting her lip at the blood. "I thought Dalton had a zero-tolerance for bullying policy..."

"It was after school," Kurt muttered, wincing when she started to dab at the cut. "It didn't actually happen at school either – it was in the parking lot of a crappy coffee shop."

There was a moment of silence between them. "Well, I still think that's bullying," Carole said quietly. "And I'm sure the school would do something if you tell them."

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Kurt admitted, giving a small sigh. "I just want to transfer there and blend in. Be normal for once."

She smiled at him. "Don't be normal, sweetie. You're so unique, and it would be a shame if you hid that from the world."

Kurt blinked at her advice, not quite sure what to say. "I...I see."

"I may not be your Mom," Carole continued, stopping her treatment on him. "But I do love you like my own." She laughed slightly to herself. "Anyway, if you were 'normal', then think about how boring and dull my wedding would have been."

Kurt brightened up considerably. "You're right. Still...Dalton is a new start, and I want friends at this school besides my own step-brother."

"Understandable," Carole agreed, pulling a plaster out of the first aid kit. "Keep this on for tonight so that your cut doesn't get infected, and then take it off before school tomorrow."

"Thanks," Kurt muttered, looking up with a soft expression. "Thank You."


Burt was just about to leave, honestly, when he heard it; a sigh from upstairs.

He furrowed his eyebrows in frustration – both of the boys were at school, and Carole had gone into town for some groceries. This meant that someone else, who he probably didn't know, was in the house.

Heart beating faster, he slowly made his way towards the stairs, reaching out for the banister to grip on to. As he climbed up the stairs at a torturously slow pace, the noise only got louder and louder; it was definitely a woman, he decided, making little panting noises of some sort. He stopped at the top of the stairs and went to look in the first room on that floor. The door was slightly open, and he squinted to see what was going on...the door creaked a little as he pushed it further open and-

It was the maid, Santana. She was lying on the bed, her hair spread out on the pillows – it was only then that he realised she was touching herself, panties around her ankles and legs spread wide open.

She looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes, panting harshly as she smiled cockily at him. "Come join me," She purred, hips raising off of the bed. "Please."

Burt flushed deep red. "I...sorry." He stumbled out of the doorway, unable to escape the images in his head.


"I hate him!" Kurt seethed, pacing back and forth. Blaine was sat on his bed, legs crossed casually. "I just...want to get back at him, you know? But I don't like violence-"

"You can still get back at him," Blaine's smooth tenor interrupted, silencing Kurt immediately. "You and I, we can scare him...together." He smiled at the thought.

Kurt stopped pacing, pouting slightly in thought. "But how? I'm not exactly scary."

"I know how," Blaine started. "But you have to do and say what I tell you to."

Kurt bit his lip in thought. "Okay then. Let's do it."


There was the sound of a bucket being set down on the floor. "I have to clean," a gravelly female voice said from behind him. "If I don't, I'll be behind my work schedule."

"Do whatever," Burt muttered, avoiding her eyes.

Santana watched him as he sat down; he knew because he could practically feel her gaze. "You look stressed, Mister Hummel." Her hand trailed up her body, resting on the top of her right breast. "I saw you watching me the other day," She said softly. She squeezed her boob hard and reached to unbutton her top. "It was hot."

Burt went even redder.

Santana stepped closer to him, her manicured hand resting on his shoulder. "It's okay," She half-whispered, voice getting huskier. "Did you touch yourself afterwards?"

"Stop it," Burt muttered half-heartedly.

"You did," Santana smirked, squeezing her breast even more. "Maybe not immediately after, but I can guarantee you came on the memory of me fucking myself on my fingers." She leaned in closer, her voice low in his ear. "Maybe it was while you were fucking your wife?"

Burt lurched away, choking slightly. "Stop it, Santana."

He froze, however, when Santana's hand reached down to rest on his crotch. There was a gasp and both of them turned to face the person who had interrupted.

To Burt's horror, it was Kurt; his son was staring at him, shocked at seeing his version - an elderly version - of Santana sitting in his father's lap. "Kurt..."

Kurt backed away, shaking his head with disbelief. Coming to his senses, the older man shoved Santana off of him and tried to catch up with Kurt.

“Kurt! Buddy!”

But he had already gone.


"Smythe!" Sebastian turned around, caught unaware by Kurt. "I did what you asked." Kurt smiled, trying to appear as flirtatious as possible. "I'm sorry I took so long, by the way, but you look so sexy when you're angry."

Sebastian smirked. "Well, you're quite hot yourself, Hummel. I wouldn't mind tapping that ass of yours."

Kurt tried not to wince at his choice of words. "Well, come over afterschool today, and you'll get the chance. My place, say...three fourty-five?" Sebastian nodded confidently, obviously not suspecting a thing.

The trap was set.


"Hey, babe."

Kurt put on a fake smile as he shut the door after the taller teen. "Hey, Smythe."

"So, where are we doing the deed?"

Kurt bit his lip, hoping this worked. "The basement. My step-brother's upstairs, and-"

Sebastian huffed, folding his arms. "Let's just get on with it."

At that moment, Kurt sincerely hoped that whatever it was that Blaine had planned was horrible.

After they'd made their way down to the basement, Sebastian looked around with disdain. "Right, well-"

"No," Kurt interrupted, remembering Blaine's orders. "There's a little room to the right, over there. We'll do it in there, as it's cleaner and more private."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, annoyed at the wait. "Whatever." He did as Kurt said, the pale boy close behind. "So...wait. Who's this?"

Blaine was sat in a chair in the middle of the room, a rather unpleasant smirk on his face. "So you're Sebastian Smythe."

"Who's this?" Sebastian repeated, sneering at Kurt. "Trying to trick me into a little threesome?"

Blaine simply smiled and blinked. "Kurt, get the lights and step back."

Kurt did as he asked.

And then it was pure horror.

Evil cackling started to echo around the room, and Kurt's eyes remained fixed on Blaine, watching with gross fascination – was Blaine making that noise?

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Sebastian yelled, obviously terrified.

Suddenly, a creature appeared in the chair where Blaine had been as the lights started flicking on and off over and over again quickly. The creature's face was disgusting, with no hair and its mouth smeared with blood. Somewhere in the darkness, Sebastian cried out, and Kurt heard him hit the floor.

"HELP!" Sebastian screeched, and he sounded like he was crying.

Kurt couldn't help but cry out too, terrified. He'd never been so scared in his life, not even when he'd watched his terminally ill mother barf up blood when he was seven.

This...this was pure hell.

Kurt quickly snapped the light on permanently, and the creature he'd been seeing vanished. Sebastian was lying on the floor, shaking violently, with a wet patch on his Dalton slacks. There were a few slashes in his left cheek that were bleeding heavily; his eyes snapped open and he scrambled to stand up.

"Sebastian, wait!" Kurt shouted, only to get shoved out of the way. "Please!"

"Well, we showed him."

Kurt spun around quickly, eyes wide as he stared at Blaine. "What the Hell?"

"What?" Blaine shrugged, his black polo shirt clinging to his biceps nicely. "He was an ass, so I sorted him out."

"That wasn't a prank!" Kurt accused, tears flowing down his cheeks. "That...that...thing! It's dangerous! What the Hell was it?!"

The shorter teen gave him a confused look. "What thing? Kurt, you're really not making much sense right now..."

Kurt backed away, arms crossed against his chest as he tried to get away. "Stay away from me! Stay away from me and my family...and just everyone!" He ran up the basement steps, crying hard.

Blaine breathed hard, angry tears in his eyes as he watched Kurt disappear. "I only did it to make you happy!"


"You like the maid."

Finn looked up at Rachel. "Who? Santana?"

Rachel nodded knowingly. "Yes. You look like you want to screw her." She paused, hesitating slightly. "I know your step-father does too."

Finn blinked. "But...he just married my Mom..."

"It's okay," Rachel assured him. "Most men who meet her like her."

Finn was so relieved that he didn't bother asking how she knew any of this information. "Oh. Cool. Yeah, she's hot and stuff..." He grinned shyly at his companion. "But you're more...real. I feel like I can talk to you properly without worry. You just seem...nicer, and less fake."

Rachel put her flower down, staring at Finn. "Oh. Thank You, Finn."

The taller teen moved closer, feeling awkward and nervous. "Rachel?"


Finn stared at her lips, wanting badly to kiss her there and then. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Her only reply was to kiss him on the lips passionately.


"Oh my God," Kurt sighed, rolling onto his stomach and putting a pillow over his ears. Finn went red, hiding his head in his legs.

"That's, like, the second time this hour," Finn mumbled embarrassedly.

Kurt sighed again, lifting the pillow off of his head. "Well, they are newlyweds...old newlyweds, at that."

"Yeah, but in an hour?"

Kurt nodded. "Let's put on the radio or something. I don't really want to hear your Mom moaning like a porn star."

"I don't really wanna hear your Dad doing that to her," Finn retorted, getting up to turn on the radio and find some music. "You know, I totally thought that because he has a heart problem, he wouldn't be so eager-"

"You should have seen before my Mom died," Kurt snorted. "I remember that they sent me to my Aunt Mildred's for an entire week after they found out she was terminal." Kurt shuddered slightly. "At the time I thought 'Mommy and Daddy time' meant being all silly and hugging without kids. Safe to say, I was wrong."


"God, you scared me."

The figure didn't speak.

"I thought I told you to throw it away."

Silence again.

"Oh, I see. You really think you should be going for Round Two after your heart attack?"

The figure stepped closer, and she sighed.

"Okay. Fine. But just make sure that you don't strain yourself."


"No," Sue scolded. "Baboon heart, this isn't your time. Go up to bed now."

Burt yawned, nodding sleepily and walking away from the fire he'd created on the stove. Sue watched after him like a hawk, turning down all the knobs without looking.

"God save your family," She muttered, and then turned to leave.

"Love you," He murmured sleepily.

She blinked, unable to stop thinking about what had just happened. "I...I love you too."


To: Quinn From: Finn

I'm sorry. It's not working. Hope we can still be friends.

Finn took a deep breath, unable to look at the text he'd typed out. Closing his eyes, he quickly pressed the SEND button and dropped his phone on the couch next to him.

He ignored the phone when it started to light up with a series of replies, and decided to go outside, feeling desperately guilty about what he'd done.


"I'm sorry."

Kurt didn't look up from his homework.

"It was...awful what I did to that guy. I'm sorry."

Kurt looked up at the other teenager, biting his lip in thought. "It was awful. In fact, it was scary. I'm scared of you, Blaine." The shorter boy's eyes slowly filled with tears. "I mean, it's worse than what he was doing to me."

Blaine sniffed, fat tears rolling down his face. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt him...only to scare him." He took a deep shuddering breath. "It was a lame prank gone wrong. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Kurt gave a small nod. "Yes."

"Well, please let us continue being friends," Blaine begged. "You're the only friend I've had who I can really trust. Really."

Kurt bit his lip again, this time harder. "I...I don't know. I care about you a lot, Blaine; I know what it's like to be an outcast, but I...I just can't get over what you did to Sebastian."

Blaine's face scrunched up sadly. "Alright, I said I was sorry."

"I know. But...maybe you should just go away for a couple of days," Kurt started, looking down at the duvet of his bed. "And then maybe we can start to hang out again."

He looked up, only to discover that Blaine had vanished.


"How about Chinese tonight?"

Burt nodded, not looking up from his paper. Finn, however, got the hint, mouthing as he thought hard.

"Mom...you said that...when you were...with me...you..." His eyes widened as he got what she was saying. "Oh my God."

Burt looked up, finally getting it. "Wait a minute, what?"

Carole grinned, nodding. "I went to the doctor today for a routine check-up, and he told me."

"So..." Finn said slowly. "I'm going to be a big brother?" Carole nodded, and Finn smiled a huge smile. "Yeah...that's gonna be so cool!"

"You're having a baby?" Burt asked, unable to believe it quite yet. "Like...our baby?"

Carole rolled her eyes. "Well, yes. Who else's?"

Burt grinned too now, ducking to kiss her.

None of them realised that Kurt had been eavesdropping on the conversation; the pale teenage boy quickly went back to his room, deciding not to interrupt the family moment.

None of them realised that someone else, dressed in an eerily familiar rubber suit, was watching them celebrate through the kitchen window.

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