How to Save a Life: Part 1
Title: How to Save a Life: Chapter 1
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Burt, Crowley, various New Directions
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: Up to Grilled Cheesus for Glee, season 5 for Supernatural
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt will do anything to save his father--even if it means selling his soul.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 2000 words for this part.
Written for This prompt over here at the glee_cross_meme
Previous Parts: Prologue
I hadn't planned on this fill being very long, but then I got hit with some inspiration, so I think I can definitely develop it into a larger work that incorporates a lot more of the Supernatural world then I had originally intended. If, of course, people are interested!
Anyway! Happy finale night everyone!
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I know how to save a life
How to save a life
How to save a life
--How to Save a Life, The Fray
Kurt ignored the way his skin crawled the closer he got to the tiny store and continued walking. He had come this far, and there was no way he was turning around-not when he was this close.
Over the last week, Kurt had tried a number of different so-called "occult" stores, but none of them had carried the one item he still needed to summon the demon: bones of a black cat. The graveyard dirt had been reasonably easy to find. It wasn't like he was afraid of going to a cemetery. Why would he be? He went once a week or so to visit his mom's grave, after all.
The bones, on the other hand, hadn't been quite so easy to find. Until now.
That morning Kurt had bypassed McKinley High, deciding instead to drive to Cincinnati and go to another yet another occult store. He normally wasn't one to skip school, but it wasn't like his father was around to notice, anyway, and he was tired of the pitying looks that everyone at school, except for Coach Sylvester, of course, gave him. More than that, he was tired of the well wishes and the prayers from his friends. None of it helped-none of it did anything!-and he was done, absolutely done, with sitting back and doing nothing.
So, he went to Cincinnati in the hopes that this store would be The One-the one that would have the bones of a black cat. Only he hadn't counted on getting lost. It turned out to be a good thing; however, because it was while he was wandering around that he noticed this particular store.
The moment he saw it, he knew that it was different than the others. With the others, he'd never felt anything. But, with this one, he felt so wrong, so dirty, the closer he got to it. That was how he knew there had to be something to it, something more than the New Age garbage he had encountered over and over again.
By the time he made it to the front stoop, however, he was ready to give up and go home. If the air outside the store felt that slimy, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like inside.
He didn't turn back though. Instead, he just took a deep breath and pushed the glass door open.
The air inside the store was stagnant and putrid. Maybe it was the stacks of musty books or the rows of jars filled with unidentifiable objects, but Kurt didn't think so. He thought it smelled like what death would smell like, if it had a scent.
His eyes darted around the shop, taking in the grotesque sights. It was almost like something out of a horror movie, but there was something so genuine about the place, so absolutely terrifying, that he knew that this place would have what he was looking for. Every bone in his body, every survival instinct ingrained in him, told him to turn around and go. The only reason he didn't go straight out the door and back to his car was because he was doing this for his father. He repeated that phrase-for my father-over and over again like a mantra in his head.
"Not too late, you know," said a voice with a thick Southern accent from behind a stack of books, interrupting his mantra.
Kurt's brow furrowed in confusion. What?
"To turn back," the voice continued. "Not too late. In fact, I suggest you do. Innocent little thing like you ain't got no business meddlin' around with demons. Dangerous business, demons."
Kurt stared, wide-eyed, as the tiniest little old woman he had ever seen emerged from behind the books. Both her hair and her skin was stark white. Her eyes, on the other hand, were decidedly odd. They were dark blue but covered with a film and stared, unseeing, at Kurt.
When he still didn't speak, she walked away, weaving through the cluttered store with practiced ease.
"I suppose this is what you're lookin' for?" she asked, picking out a jar seemingly at random and tossing it to Kurt who nearly dropped it. Inside the jar contained bones, of a black cat, he supposed.
"Ah, yes, how much-" he began to ask but she cut him off.
"How much indeed?" she queried, her wrinkled and pinched face going thoughtful. "Quite a bit more than you've bargained for, I'd reckon. Not my place to judge, though. No use in it, anyhow. Not when your mind's already made up, and it had to have been for you to even enter the shop." She fixed her unseeing eyes back on him. "No charge."
"But-"
"No charge," she said, firmly, spinning around on her heels and disappearing through a door he hadn't noticed before.
He waited for her to reappear, but when she didn't come back after several minutes, he pulled a stack of bills out of his wallet and peeled off five of the twenty-dollar bills and left them on the counter. It didn't feel right to leave without paying her something, and a hundred dollars seemed like such a small amount for the life of his father. Clutching the jar in his hands, he didn't hesitate for even a moment before leaving the store after setting the bills on the counter.
Once outside, he kept walking until the crawling feeling was gone, until he could take a deep breath and breathe in clean air instead of slimy, stagnant air. By the time he reached his car, the entire incident felt hazy, as if it had been a dream instead of reality. The only indication that it had not been a dream was the jar in his hand.
Kurt spent the entire drive back to Lima planning. He wanted to do it as soon as he got back home, but he knew that it would be better to wait for the cover of darkness. Instead he stopped by the hospital to see if there had been any change with his father's condition. After ascertaining that there hadn't been, he kissed him on the cheek and left his room, lingering in the doorway for only a second.
"I'm going to make this right," he promised the comatose man before walking briskly back to the Navigator. He could only hope that it worked. If it did, then perhaps, by this time, tomorrow there would be no need to visit the hospital.
For the rest of the afternoon, Kurt got everything in his house back in order. He hadn't meant to let things go, but between school work, glee, and visiting the hospital, he had scarcely had time for sleep let alone time for taking proper care of the house. So while he waited for sunset, he washed the dishes, vacuumed and dusted every room, made up every bed, absolutely everything he could do to not only keep busy but to get things ready for his father to come home to-all the while listening to Robert Johnson's album. It had taken him nearly an entire afternoon of sifting through carton after carton of his father's records before he found it, but once he found it, he couldn't stop listening to it over and over again.
I went to the crossroad
Fell down on my knees
I went to the crossroad
Fell down on my knees
At half-past three, his cell phone began to ring and buzz with text messages. He deleted all of the messages without even reading them and then just turned off his phone. His friends would no doubt be beside themselves, Mercedes especially, but he knew that he couldn't tell them what he was planning because they would try to stop him.
And he definitely couldn't have that. Not when his father's life depended on this.
Finally, when he couldn't stand to wait any longer, he packed the items-the Ziploc baggie filled with graveyard dirt, the jar of bones, and a photograph of him taken over the summer-into a small box, grabbed the small gardening tool he'd purchased for tonight and then drove over to the crossroads. There was a small playground across the church where there were still several children playing.
He sat inside the Navigator and watched the children play. One by one, they left until there was no one at the playground at all. He was beginning to feel a bit antsy, restless. Not able to sit in his truck for another moment, he stuffed the box inside his satchel, and got out. He walked around the playground for a few minutes in an attempt to burn off some of that pent up energy so that when he finally did the ritual, when he finally summoned the demon, he would be calm and collected.
It was on his third go around the playground that it happened. Had it been raining, he might have thought it was lightening; only the sky was clear. One second he was turning the corner at the back of the playground staring at nothing, and the next second, there was a flash of light followed by the appearance of a man in a long trench coat in the parking lot of the church. He closed his eyes against the bright light and when he opened them again, the man was gone.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he spun around once, his eyes darting every which way to make sure that there was no man-strange or otherwise-anywhere to be seen.
There was no one there.
No one there.
No one there.
"Get a grip," he muttered to himself. "You're losing it. Completely losing it."
He lowered himself onto a park bench and sighed. Night was quickly falling, casting shadows across the empty playground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tight. He sat there like that until night had fallen completely, and the only light left was the orangey-glow of the street lights.
Everything was silent, eerily so. Had it always this quiet, or was he imagining things? Like the man in the trench coat. That had to be it because there was no other explanation for it-no rational explanation for it anyway. After taking another look around to make sure he was alone, Kurt stood up, tightening his jacket around him against the chill in the air as he did so.
He walked purposely to the middle of the crossroads. He had never been so thankful for the lack of municipal funds before in his entire life. The roads in this part of Lima were little better than gravel pits which made it a pain to drive on but in a situation like this would save him a lot of time. There was talk every so often of repaving them, but like most things in Lima, it never happened.
Once in the middle of the road, he crouched down and took out the small gardening shovel. He was about to dig a hole large enough to fit the small box in when he heard an odd fluttering noise and saw something out of the corner of his eye.
He stood up and spun around, suddenly, the shovel falling out of his hand and onto the ground in the process.
"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone there?"
There was no answer.
He took a deep breath. He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. There was no one out there, for God's sake; he'd made sure that no one was out there!
Ignoring his racing heart, Kurt pulled the small box out of his satchel. His hands were trembling so much that he nearly dropped it twice before he was able to place it inside the hole. He covered it up before standing once again.
It was done. Now all he had to do was wait.
Also, a little treat for you.
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Burt, Crowley, various New Directions
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: Up to Grilled Cheesus for Glee, season 5 for Supernatural
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt will do anything to save his father--even if it means selling his soul.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 2000 words for this part.
Written for This prompt over here at the glee_cross_meme
Previous Parts: Prologue
I hadn't planned on this fill being very long, but then I got hit with some inspiration, so I think I can definitely develop it into a larger work that incorporates a lot more of the Supernatural world then I had originally intended. If, of course, people are interested!
Anyway! Happy finale night everyone!
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I know how to save a life
How to save a life
How to save a life
--How to Save a Life, The Fray
Kurt ignored the way his skin crawled the closer he got to the tiny store and continued walking. He had come this far, and there was no way he was turning around-not when he was this close.
Over the last week, Kurt had tried a number of different so-called "occult" stores, but none of them had carried the one item he still needed to summon the demon: bones of a black cat. The graveyard dirt had been reasonably easy to find. It wasn't like he was afraid of going to a cemetery. Why would he be? He went once a week or so to visit his mom's grave, after all.
The bones, on the other hand, hadn't been quite so easy to find. Until now.
That morning Kurt had bypassed McKinley High, deciding instead to drive to Cincinnati and go to another yet another occult store. He normally wasn't one to skip school, but it wasn't like his father was around to notice, anyway, and he was tired of the pitying looks that everyone at school, except for Coach Sylvester, of course, gave him. More than that, he was tired of the well wishes and the prayers from his friends. None of it helped-none of it did anything!-and he was done, absolutely done, with sitting back and doing nothing.
So, he went to Cincinnati in the hopes that this store would be The One-the one that would have the bones of a black cat. Only he hadn't counted on getting lost. It turned out to be a good thing; however, because it was while he was wandering around that he noticed this particular store.
The moment he saw it, he knew that it was different than the others. With the others, he'd never felt anything. But, with this one, he felt so wrong, so dirty, the closer he got to it. That was how he knew there had to be something to it, something more than the New Age garbage he had encountered over and over again.
By the time he made it to the front stoop, however, he was ready to give up and go home. If the air outside the store felt that slimy, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like inside.
He didn't turn back though. Instead, he just took a deep breath and pushed the glass door open.
The air inside the store was stagnant and putrid. Maybe it was the stacks of musty books or the rows of jars filled with unidentifiable objects, but Kurt didn't think so. He thought it smelled like what death would smell like, if it had a scent.
His eyes darted around the shop, taking in the grotesque sights. It was almost like something out of a horror movie, but there was something so genuine about the place, so absolutely terrifying, that he knew that this place would have what he was looking for. Every bone in his body, every survival instinct ingrained in him, told him to turn around and go. The only reason he didn't go straight out the door and back to his car was because he was doing this for his father. He repeated that phrase-for my father-over and over again like a mantra in his head.
"Not too late, you know," said a voice with a thick Southern accent from behind a stack of books, interrupting his mantra.
Kurt's brow furrowed in confusion. What?
"To turn back," the voice continued. "Not too late. In fact, I suggest you do. Innocent little thing like you ain't got no business meddlin' around with demons. Dangerous business, demons."
Kurt stared, wide-eyed, as the tiniest little old woman he had ever seen emerged from behind the books. Both her hair and her skin was stark white. Her eyes, on the other hand, were decidedly odd. They were dark blue but covered with a film and stared, unseeing, at Kurt.
When he still didn't speak, she walked away, weaving through the cluttered store with practiced ease.
"I suppose this is what you're lookin' for?" she asked, picking out a jar seemingly at random and tossing it to Kurt who nearly dropped it. Inside the jar contained bones, of a black cat, he supposed.
"Ah, yes, how much-" he began to ask but she cut him off.
"How much indeed?" she queried, her wrinkled and pinched face going thoughtful. "Quite a bit more than you've bargained for, I'd reckon. Not my place to judge, though. No use in it, anyhow. Not when your mind's already made up, and it had to have been for you to even enter the shop." She fixed her unseeing eyes back on him. "No charge."
"But-"
"No charge," she said, firmly, spinning around on her heels and disappearing through a door he hadn't noticed before.
He waited for her to reappear, but when she didn't come back after several minutes, he pulled a stack of bills out of his wallet and peeled off five of the twenty-dollar bills and left them on the counter. It didn't feel right to leave without paying her something, and a hundred dollars seemed like such a small amount for the life of his father. Clutching the jar in his hands, he didn't hesitate for even a moment before leaving the store after setting the bills on the counter.
Once outside, he kept walking until the crawling feeling was gone, until he could take a deep breath and breathe in clean air instead of slimy, stagnant air. By the time he reached his car, the entire incident felt hazy, as if it had been a dream instead of reality. The only indication that it had not been a dream was the jar in his hand.
Kurt spent the entire drive back to Lima planning. He wanted to do it as soon as he got back home, but he knew that it would be better to wait for the cover of darkness. Instead he stopped by the hospital to see if there had been any change with his father's condition. After ascertaining that there hadn't been, he kissed him on the cheek and left his room, lingering in the doorway for only a second.
"I'm going to make this right," he promised the comatose man before walking briskly back to the Navigator. He could only hope that it worked. If it did, then perhaps, by this time, tomorrow there would be no need to visit the hospital.
For the rest of the afternoon, Kurt got everything in his house back in order. He hadn't meant to let things go, but between school work, glee, and visiting the hospital, he had scarcely had time for sleep let alone time for taking proper care of the house. So while he waited for sunset, he washed the dishes, vacuumed and dusted every room, made up every bed, absolutely everything he could do to not only keep busy but to get things ready for his father to come home to-all the while listening to Robert Johnson's album. It had taken him nearly an entire afternoon of sifting through carton after carton of his father's records before he found it, but once he found it, he couldn't stop listening to it over and over again.
I went to the crossroad
Fell down on my knees
I went to the crossroad
Fell down on my knees
At half-past three, his cell phone began to ring and buzz with text messages. He deleted all of the messages without even reading them and then just turned off his phone. His friends would no doubt be beside themselves, Mercedes especially, but he knew that he couldn't tell them what he was planning because they would try to stop him.
And he definitely couldn't have that. Not when his father's life depended on this.
Finally, when he couldn't stand to wait any longer, he packed the items-the Ziploc baggie filled with graveyard dirt, the jar of bones, and a photograph of him taken over the summer-into a small box, grabbed the small gardening tool he'd purchased for tonight and then drove over to the crossroads. There was a small playground across the church where there were still several children playing.
He sat inside the Navigator and watched the children play. One by one, they left until there was no one at the playground at all. He was beginning to feel a bit antsy, restless. Not able to sit in his truck for another moment, he stuffed the box inside his satchel, and got out. He walked around the playground for a few minutes in an attempt to burn off some of that pent up energy so that when he finally did the ritual, when he finally summoned the demon, he would be calm and collected.
It was on his third go around the playground that it happened. Had it been raining, he might have thought it was lightening; only the sky was clear. One second he was turning the corner at the back of the playground staring at nothing, and the next second, there was a flash of light followed by the appearance of a man in a long trench coat in the parking lot of the church. He closed his eyes against the bright light and when he opened them again, the man was gone.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he spun around once, his eyes darting every which way to make sure that there was no man-strange or otherwise-anywhere to be seen.
There was no one there.
No one there.
No one there.
"Get a grip," he muttered to himself. "You're losing it. Completely losing it."
He lowered himself onto a park bench and sighed. Night was quickly falling, casting shadows across the empty playground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tight. He sat there like that until night had fallen completely, and the only light left was the orangey-glow of the street lights.
Everything was silent, eerily so. Had it always this quiet, or was he imagining things? Like the man in the trench coat. That had to be it because there was no other explanation for it-no rational explanation for it anyway. After taking another look around to make sure he was alone, Kurt stood up, tightening his jacket around him against the chill in the air as he did so.
He walked purposely to the middle of the crossroads. He had never been so thankful for the lack of municipal funds before in his entire life. The roads in this part of Lima were little better than gravel pits which made it a pain to drive on but in a situation like this would save him a lot of time. There was talk every so often of repaving them, but like most things in Lima, it never happened.
Once in the middle of the road, he crouched down and took out the small gardening shovel. He was about to dig a hole large enough to fit the small box in when he heard an odd fluttering noise and saw something out of the corner of his eye.
He stood up and spun around, suddenly, the shovel falling out of his hand and onto the ground in the process.
"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone there?"
There was no answer.
He took a deep breath. He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. There was no one out there, for God's sake; he'd made sure that no one was out there!
Ignoring his racing heart, Kurt pulled the small box out of his satchel. His hands were trembling so much that he nearly dropped it twice before he was able to place it inside the hole. He covered it up before standing once again.
It was done. Now all he had to do was wait.
Also, a little treat for you.
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