Sorry this took so long! I got sucked into millions of Supernatural crossovers. I hope you enjoy this. I took some liberties with how a newborn vampire may act in the TB universe because we really don't know much, and Jessica irritated me with the way she acted in the early episodes she was in.
Also-pairings. I could go with some Klaine, or maybe just go straight to Eric. I can't decide. Any thoughts?
Life or Something Like It
Life is just what happens to you,
While your busy making other plans.
-Beautiful Boy, John Lennon
The first thing Kurt realized when he woke up was that he wasn't in his bed. He wasn't in any bed, for that matter, he was in what appeared to be a shallow grave. He gasped and clawed at the earth surrounding him until he managed to dig his way to the surface.
Once on the surface, he gulped in large mouthfuls of air, but something was off about the entire process because while not breathing had been uncomfortable, it didn't seem to be necessary for him to breath. Experimentally he took in another breath, and as he did, his senses were hit with a hundred different scents at once. He could smell the musty scent of the earth, the flowering petals of countless species of flowers, the moon, the humidity, everything—he could smell everything.
He could also hear everything. If he stood perfectly still, he could hear the faint sound of hundreds of hearts beating, hear the rushing of blood through veins. It was memorizing, intoxicating, torturous because thinking of hearts beating and blood made Kurt notice something else that had been lingering on the edges of his consciousness since he woke up.
He was hungry—no, he was thirty. Thirstier than he had ever been. It gnawed at his throat until he felt as dry as a piece of sandpaper, consumed every part of him until he was nothing but a thing who thirsted. Thirsted for what, he didn't know.
His nostrils flared as he tried to determine just where the blood he could hear and smell—and practically taste—was located. No sooner had he taken one step did he feel someone grasp his arm tightly. Surprised, he jerked his head around to find the man from the previous night standing in front of him. No, not man—vampire.
That was when the memories of the previous night came flooding back. He stumbled under the force of the memories. The pain he had felt while he was drained, the unwanted pleasure he had been forced to endure while drinking the vampire's blood.
He was a vampire.
His eyes widened in horror, and he made a strangled sound as he jerked away from the vampire. "You," he said. "You've ruined my life."
The vampire hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, and for that I am truly sorry."
Kurt ignored him, zeroing on the pack of True Blood in his hands. He couldn't concentrate on anything but how thirsty he was. Maybe if he drank something, he would be able to think properly, to process everything. The vampire, seeing where Kurt's gaze was, handed him a bottle.
"The taste takes a bit of getting used to," he warned as Kurt took a small sip.
He was right. It tasted wrong. Too metallic and too something else that Kurt couldn't put his finger on, but he drank it anyway. One bottle and then another. When he had finished the third, he was feeling…well, not exactly like himself but better than he had. He could at least concentrate now.
"Does the A.V.L. condone kidnapping and then turning humans against their will generally, or was I a special occasion?" Kurt asked, his eyes fixed on the vampire in front of him.
"Not usually," he allowed. "Under…certain circumstances, however, it is unavoidable."
Kurt sank down onto the overturned tree the other vampire was sitting on. "Do you have a name? I would like nothing better than to never see or talk to you again, but seeing as that's unlikely, we should at least know one another's names. I'm Kurt Hummel."
"My name is Bill Compton."
"Bill Compton," Kurt said, bitterness staining his voice. "Well, Bill Compton, I would say that it's nice to meet you, but that would be a lie."
The other vampire sighed. "As your maker, it is my responsibility to care for you. I know that it might not seem like it now, but you can live almost exactly the same life as you did before—only at night. With us being out of the coffin, things are much different than they were in the past. Our quality of life is extremely high."
Kurt scoffed. "Somehow I doubt that I can continue road tripping with my friend before starting college at Julliard this fall, so no I can't live the same life."
"I suppose not," he conceded. "There are a great many things you can do, however. I would like to tell you about them, if you would allow me to."
"Unless you're going to tell me how I can go home to my family and friends, I'm not interested in listening to anything you have to say."
Bill tilted Kurt's chin up until their eyes locked. "I am sorry, Kurt, but that part of your life is over. You can never go home."
Kurt closed his eyes and turned away from him, one red tear after another trickled out from underneath his closed eyes, streaking his pale skin with blood. "Can you at least get my things from the motel I was staying at, or do I have to wear these incredibly dirty clothes for the rest of eternity?"
In addition to being caked with dirt and mud, there was now blood dripping down onto what had once been a white shirt, and while it seemed like such a little thing, suddenly all he could think about was his clothes. They were almost an extension of himself at times.
Bill hesitated. "It would be unwise to return to your motel. I will procure clothing for you, if necessary."
"I don't want just any clothing," Kurt snapped. "Especially not the sort of clothes that could be found in this backwater town. And it's not only my clothes that I want. I want my journals, my iPod, my laptop—my personal belongings—and I think that you owe me that at the very least. You know, considering that you've taken everything else away from me. You can't expect me to have nothing, can you?"
"I—of course not. As your maker, it is my duty to not only teach you our ways, but to provide for you. If you make a list of the items that need replacing, I will do so at my earliest convenience."
The empty True Blood bottle that Kurt had been holding shattered as his grip tightened. "No! I don't want new items, I want my items." He sneered. "I doubt that you even could replace them here in—what's the name of this place again?"
"Bon Temps," Bill filled in, a wary look on his face. "I'm sure that, given time, you will grow to love it as I do. Now, if you are prepared to listen, I will explain to you what it means to be Vampire."
Kurt gave him a withering look. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I know what it means to be Vampire," he spat the words out.
"Do you? Well, then, by all means, enlighten me."
"It means that I can no longer go out in the sun, it means that I must drink blood to survive, it means that I can be injured by silver and killed by a stake. It means that my rights are limited, just as they were limited in life. Should I go on?"
Bill sighed. "I suppose that is sufficient for now. Just know that for as long as you stay with me, you will be mainstreaming as I do."
A grimace flitted across Kurt's face at the thought of drinking another drop of True Blood, but he nodded tersely. "Fine."
Bill stood. "Would you like to see your new home and get cleaned up now?"
"It's not like I have a choice, is it?" Kurt muttered as he followed Bill out of the cemetery.
Bill's house—if it could be called that—was only a short distance from the cemetery. It was a large plantation house which seemed to be falling to pieces. The steps leading up to the porch were derelict, and the paint was chipping. The inside was in even worse condition. Kurt was surprised it even had electricity as the rest of the house—even the furniture—seemed to be the originals.
"The bathroom is upstairs and to the right. You may borrow some of my clothing until I am able to procure some for you. We are the same height, but they may still be a little large on you because you are quite a bit slimmer than I."
The bathroom, at least, didn't seem to be falling apart. He undressed quickly, but when he took off his pants something fell out of one of his pockets.
It was his iPhone.
There were over 100 text messages and about that many missed calls. He opened the first one. It was from Blaine.
Kurt, where are you? I'm seriously freaking out here.
He began to feel very guilty after reading several more texts—each one a variation of the first and each one more and more frantic. How could he have forgotten Blaine—Blaine who was probably worried sick about him? Glancing nervously at the door, Kurt reached over and turned both the faucet on the sink and the shower on. Then, he took a deep breath and dialed Blaine's number on the phone.
The phone hadn't even rung once before Blaine answered it, his voice rough as if he'd been crying. "Kurt—are you okay? Where are you? Do you have any idea how worried I've been? How worried your dad is?"
"I'm somewhere in Bon Temps—near a cemetery, but I'm not sure exactly where. I wasn't conscious when they brought me here."
"What? Who took you?" he demanded. "I knew that you wouldn't have left willingly, and I told that Andy Bellefleur as much, but he didn't seem to think there was anything to worry about!"
"It was vampires, Blaine. I was walking to Merlotte's—" he ignored Blaine's interjection of "What!" and continued, "and they grabbed me off of the street. I don't remember too much of what happened afterward. They drugged me." He shivered thinking about that night and how frightened he had been once he realized what was happening.
He heard Blaine let out a shuddering breath. "I'll be there soon. I'm leaving right away. Don't worry, everything's going to be fine—you're going to be fine."
"No!" Kurt exclaimed, a little louder than he meant to. He paused for a moment, listening for any indication that Bill had heard. When there was none, he continued. "You can't come here, Blaine. Not right now, and maybe not ever." He paused again. "And everything is most certainly not fine. They—one of the vampires—bit me, and…"
"What?" Blaine asked, softly. "What did they do?"
"He changed me."
Silence reigned for a minute. When Blaine spoke again, his voice was strained. "I'm sorry—what? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Kurt sighed. He was about to speak again when he heard someone—no doubt Bill—step onto the creaking staircase. "I have to go," he said in a hushed voice. "I'll call again when I can."
He hung up before Blaine had a chance to respond, turning off the phone immediately. If Bill knew that he had his phone, the likelihood of him being allowed to keep it wasn't very good.
There was a knock on the door. "Everything alright in there?" Bill asked through the door.
"Yes," was Kurt's only reply.
When Bill said nothing further, he climbed into the shower. The hot water felt amazing on his skin. It was then that he realized how cold he had been before. He stayed under the spray of water until it ran cold. Only then did he get out and dress in the outfit that Bill had placed outside of the bathroom door, putting his phone back into his pants pocket.
Bill was pacing the length of the living room when Kurt came down the steps.
"Come along. I have urgent business to which I must attend."
Kurt scowled but one look from Bill was enough to silence the retort on his tongue. "Fine," he spat instead.
He spent the entire drive staring out the window and trying to keep calm. It had taken all the self-control he had not to jump from the car when they passed by the motel he and Blaine had been staying.
The most noticeable thing about being a vampire—after the never-ending thirst, of course—was how intense everything felt. Anger, sadness, all of it felt as if it had been magnified a hundred-fold. He wondered if he would ever get used to it.
When the car pulled to a stop, and he saw where they were, his brow furrowed in confusion. They were at Fangtasia—the vampire bar that Blaine had wanted to go to.
"Do not wander away from me," Bill said as they walked the distance from the parking lot to the back door.
"As your maker, I command you," he added when he saw the calculating look in Kurt's eyes.
He hadn't been planning to make a run for it—well, not exactly—but he still deflated at Bill's command. If it had been just words, he wouldn't have minded because words could be ignored, but the moment that Bill had uttered the last portion, Kurt couldn't have wandered off even if he had wanted to.
Bill led him through a maze of offices and store rooms before finally going into the last door. There was another vampire in there. He had blonde hair and looked vaguely familiar. Had he been there the previous night?
There was a conversation going on behind him, but he stood, transfixed in the doorway of the office where he could spy the bar beyond.
In hindsight, it was probably good that Bill had commanded him not to wander because once they entered the building; the compulsion to obey was the only thing keeping him from draining every human in the building dry.
All he could hear was the beating of a hundred separate hearts.
All he could smell was their blood.
He could almost taste it on his tongue it was so close. His throat burned white hot despite the fact that he had already drunk three bottles of True Blood.
"I want them. I'm so thirsty," he whined low in his throat, his tone petulant and not at all like his normal voice. There was nothing human about him in that moment. His mind was a whirlwind of blood and violence. He could think of a hundred different ways to go about draining each human in the room.
It was only when a sharp voice commanded him to turn around that he did so.
"You see how he is. I do not have the time to teach him control," Bill said, gesturing to where Kurt was standing with his arms folded across his chest glaring at him.
The blonde vampire studied him for a moment. If Kurt was still human, he would have blushed underneath the penetrating gaze. "Very well then. Kurt, how would you like to learn how a real vampire feeds?"
Kurt's eyes widened. "Yes," he breathed.