Cooper awoke to the smell of bacon. Sleepily, he opened his eyes, a sudden shock making his eyes fly wide open instead.  The unfamiliar setting caught his off guard, his eyes adjusting to the brown homely living room as he remembered the events of last night. Head throbbing, he pushed himself up from the soft couch, observing the entire room in broad daylight.

To his left, a rocking armchair was tucked away silently in a corner under a tall window through which the sunlight was coming inside in sheets. On his other side, he spotted endless shelves of shelves, coating the walls, filled with books. It was a pleasant looking living room, a proverbial memory of his family's house appeared in his head and a sudden grasp of guilt shot through his heart.

He peered out behind the couch, a dining table laid out with food – delicious smelling bacon and eggs on plates. His stomach growled loudly. Burt emerged from a door, holding a stack of pancakes, grinning when he saw Cooper's face from behind the couch.

“Mornin'.” Burt greeted, nodding at Cooper, who managed out a half smile. “Breakfast's almost ready.”

Also, as if reading his mind, Burt placed the pancakes on the table and motioned to Cooper to one of the doors in the living room. “The toilet's over there.”

Cooper thanked him gratefully and shot for the door leading to the bathroom.

When he washed himself him and tidied his messy hair, he exited the bathroom only to hear Kurt quarrelling with Burt in the dining room about something. Curious, he stood still, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Dad, bacon isn't good for your system – it's greasy and disgusting.” Cooper heard Kurt's high pitched voice sharp and angry, “Maple syrup with pancakes? Are you trying to get yourself into another heart attack?”

He heard Burt voice reply teasingly, “You keep feeding me rabbit food, Kurt. Plus if we want energy for tonight's hunt, this would do perfectly.”

Cooper took notice of Kurt's loud snort and could imagine the younger boy rolling his eyes at Burt.

 There was a slight pause.

“You are not coming with us, Dad.” Kurt's voice was stern. There was a clang of glass on the table, as if Burt almost dropped his plate. Cooper's face turned pale – wait Burt wasn't following them? A wave of uneasiness choked him, just him and Kurt?

“Kurt.” Burt's voice was solemn. “It's not safe.”

“That's exactly why you cannot join us!” Kurt sounded exasperated; Cooper could imagine the boy's cold piercing blue eyes glaring at his own father.

“Come on, Dad.” Kurt's voice went soft and sad, “I have to protect you.”

There were sounds of plates shifting on the table before Burt spoke, “I'm a hunter too Kurt.” Said the older man, sounding weary, “Your mother would –

“Don't bring her up in this conversation.” Kurt snapped coldly.

There was a long pregnant pause between the two.

“Dad, just listen. If anything bad happens, at least you are safe.” There was tenderness in Kurt's voice. There was a long pause and Cooper imagined Burt nodding his head.

“Speaking of which,” Kurt announced coldly, “If the fly on the wall could so nicely come out for breakfast.”

Cooper's heart sunk at the realization that Kurt was talking to him. Shyly, he stepped out from behind the wall looking embarrassedly at Burt. “I didn't hear everything.” He muttered, glancing at Kurt quickly before looking apologetically at Burt.

In the morning light, Burt looked older than Cooper remembered yesterday night. His balding head and twinkling greyish-green eyes, dressed up in a simple blue checked shirt and jeans. Seated on a chair nearest to the kitchen door, he motioned at Cooper to sit beside him and passed the hazel eyed man a plate.

“How was your sleep?” Burt questioned, smiling at Cooper as he sat on his seat.

“Good.” Cooper mumbled, taking the plate gratefully and eyeing the scrumptious looking pancakes.

Kurt cleared his throat loudly and Cooper looked up to the boy who was sitting down on the opposite side of the dinner table. Cooper stared fixatedly at Kurt Hummel, a clear view of how the boy actually looked like.

His perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair matched with a pair of ice blue sharp eyes, filled with a curious glow under the sunlight from the window. His sharp features and pale skin made him look inquisitively like an elf. There was an aura of superiority as Kurt looked down from his spot, glaring bitterly at Cooper.

He didn't have the looks of a hunter, Cooper thought, unable to tear his eyes away from the elfish figure in front of him. He looked too clean – too pure and untouched. Kurt's blue eyes were striking and almost looked inhuman as they stared back curtly at Cooper.

“You done mentally raping my face?” Kurt hissed, folding his arms.

Cooper narrowed his eyes and turned to the pancakes, taking a few – feeling the burning gaze of Kurt on him. “I'm just wondering how a little boy like yourself can hunt.” He spoke carefully, pouring syrup on his brown crispy pancakes. To his right, he heard Burt laugh loudly.

Cooper grinned as he turned back to Kurt, who gazed nonchalantly at him.

“Who says I can hunt?” Kurt shot back coolly.

To that, Burt laughed even more. Cooper looked worriedly at Kurt, a brow raised in confusion. “You can't hunt?”

“Who says I can't hunt?” Kurt retorted, puzzling Cooper even more. Anxiously, he turned to Burt for at least some explanation.

Burt clapped Cooper on the back heartily, chuckling. “Ignore my boy, he's always like that.” The older man flashed a bright smile, and to Kurt he announced teasingly, “If you can't hunt, I'll have to come along!”

At that Kurt kept mum, rolling his eyes.

Cooper couldn't help but smile at that. A happy scene at the dining table, he missed his own family – especially Blaine. Guilt washed through him once again and he stopped eating, sighing miserably. Burt seemed to notice and tapped Cooper lightly on the shoulder, catching his attention. Glancing at Burt, he saw the older man smiling calmly.

“We'll find him.” Burt declared. “It's not going to happen straight away, but we'll find him. Or rather –“He grinned at Kurt, who huffed and looked away, “Kurt will find him.”

Cooper smiled uneasily and chomped on his pancakes.

Breakfast was quiet after that. Cooper helped Burt clean up the dishes and chatted with the older man about the Hummel's business – apparently it used to be an automobile in the day, a monster hunting business at night. Used to.

Burt said he was happier without the hunting – it was more peaceful and relaxed in the household without being on edge all the time, having to make protection charms for themselves and the house. It was a simple life, Cooper saw Burt smile happily to himself as he told Cooper how it could've been better if they had stopped when they had Kurt.

They - meaning his wife and himself, Cooper noted to his self quietly, wondering about Kurt's mysterious mother.

Kurt, Burt was saying, was a natural at hunting. His instincts were sharp and he seemed more intelligent for his age. Cooper listened intently, hoping that Burt's praises to Kurt's seemly inexistent skills would still his worries, but his edginess didn't subside. Burt looked as if he wanted to say something else but he stopped, suddenly remembering about his customer's car down at the garage.

“Make yourself at home;” The last thing Burt was telling him as he went downstairs, “Kurt's in study if you need him.”

Hence Cooper found himself standing at the closed door to the room which contained more weaponry than books. He could imagine Kurt's aloof voice telling him to go away, those intense blue orbs glaring at him. Cooper wondered why Kurt seemed so displeased to see him all the time, the younger boy always looking either nonchalant or distantly cold.

Kurt seemed like a petty spoiled brat rather than an experienced humble hunter – sure Kurt knew his stuff about the Wendigo but was he even good at shooting or running? Sure, they hunted at night, but Cooper was certain that they at least trained in the day; Kurt barely looked as if he stepped out into the sun with that pale unblemished skin.

Cooper folded his arms, he had been searching for years for hunters – there weren't many known ones in the small town of Lima, especially ones that specifically hunted Wendigoes. Most of the hunters he approached shut their doors at him when he requested them to help him find Blaine – they were either terrified of the Wendigo or unwilling to take on such a task.

After saving Santana from a Wendigo, he remembered her thanking him gratefully, saying even a black witch such as herself couldn't escape from such a monster and it was purely luck that day, as they made a mad scurry out of the woods together.

He did make her return her steal to the jewellery owner which she reluctantly did, but he pressed no more charges to her with a favour to tell him more about this Wendigo creature. Santana was hesitant and unwilling but she told him of a place that he could find a hunter willing to hunt for the beast. Hummel's tire and lube, he remembered her saying, they might just be your saving grace.

Not sure about that now, Cooper thought to himself, glancing up at the closed door. He trusted Burt more than he trusted Kurt.

A sudden noise made Cooper jump, and he saw the door creak open slightly. He reached out an arm to push it open but before he could even do so, he saw the door swing open, with Kurt standing in the middle, blue eyes cold and staring.

There was an exchange of glares.

Cooper broke the silence, “If I'm going with you, I'm not going empty handed.” He spoke quickly.

To his surprise, Kurt nodded curtly and stepped back to let Cooper in.

The room was cleaned up, Cooper noted as he walked in, seeing the wooden empty room as it was – with neat paper stacked up at a shelf and a large silver bow hanging on the wall nearest to the door, with long katanas and a couple of guns on the cupboard, ready to grab anytime.

Cooper huffed to himself, Kurt was planning and preparing afterall.

“You were contemplating to trust my skills at the door.” Kurt stated bluntly, observing Cooper.

The brown haired man chose to remain silent as he glanced around the room for maybe a decent weapon he could handle – maybe those swords, they seemed fitting and sharp. He turned to the right, or maybe those axes. He could feel Kurt's gaze burning onto his back.

“Can I get a sword?” Cooper asked, turning to Kurt, “I do actually know about hunting.” He saw Kurt's eyes narrow coldly.

“I'm a cop; I've handled with people worse than monsters.” Cooper announced proudly and he smirked at the sight of Kurt's annoyed glare.

“Your arrogance is sickening.” Kurt growled out, rolling his eyes, “I bet you'll run the moment you see any beast.”

Cooper's face went red. “I bet you'll be the one running.” He grumbled out angrily, walking around the room, observing the weapons hung on the walls.

To his amazement, he heard Kurt laughing out loud. “You want to make a bet with me, pretty boy?” He teased. “Deal.” Kurt's voice lowered darkly.

Cooper whipped around to glance at the younger boy. Did he just call me a pretty boy? Cooper narrowed his eyes. “What's the prize?” was the question. “If I win,” Cooper looked at Kurt, pausing for a moment, millions of things running through his mind, and it stopped onto what Kurt had been doing the other day.

“I get to see what you are painting.” Cooper stated. He grinned when he saw Kurt's eyes widen slightly – seemingly shocked by the answer.

“Very well and if I win,” Kurt smirked coldly, “I decide whether or not to murder your little brother, Wendigo or not.”

There was a long pause as Cooper's heart stopped for a moment.

“Why the hell would you want to murder my brother? Are you nuts?” Cooper hissed, feeling anger like bile rising up his throat.

“It's just a game, Cooper.” Kurt seemed too delighted, “Or are you afraid to lose?”

Cooper was trembling with fury now, wanting nothing more than strangle this little arrogant little kid in front of him. He took a deep breath in, calming himself down and ignoring the irritating looking smirk on Kurt's face.

“Wipe that grin off your face.” Cooper choked out, trying to calm himself down, “I'm not afraid. It's a deal.” He rose out a hand for a shake.

To his disbelief, Kurt reached in his denim jean pocket and fished out a knife. Without any warning of any sort, Kurt swiftly sliced Cooper's thumb, bright red blood oozing out from his skin as Cooper yelped in pain.

He grabbed his right hand, mouth agape, glaring at Kurt who was walking away to grab a piece of paper. “Blood deal.” Kurt announced, turning back to Cooper, holding onto an empty white sheet. “Press your thumb on the bottom right hand corner.”

Cooper stared at Kurt in anger but did as he was told. As he pressed his bloodied thumb on the paper, small words began to form on the once empty sheet. Magic? Cooper's eyes widened. So his worries were right, Kurt wasn't exactly human.

He glanced at the boy, who was rolling up the paper and putting it on the table.

“Don't you need to put your own blood on that paper?” Cooper spat out coldly.

Kurt ignored him and walked over to a shelf, rummaging to find something. Cooper couldn't take it anymore – this mysterious little kid and his annoying arrogant voice. He didn't trust this boy whether or not he could help find Blaine.

“You're a witch.” Cooper proclaimed, bitterly looking at Kurt's small figure still digging through the shelf.

“That paper is magic; it doesn't mean I'm magic.” Kurt replied dully, back against Cooper.

Cooper was silenced for a moment.

“Your eyes are unnatural. You are not human.” He declared loudly. Kurt seemed to have stopped his shuffling. Cooper froze for a moment, feeling the atmosphere tensing up.

Finally Kurt spoke, his voice dark and grim.

“Frankly, Mr. Anderson, if you have hunted as many beasts as I have – whether I was forced to kill or not – you start becoming inhuman yourself.”

There was a long pause and Cooper looked away, slightly ashamed with his accusation. Kurt probably had faced a lot of difficulty too, but he was being difficult himself – being all sarcastic and mean. Still it didn't stop Cooper from muttering a quiet “sorry,” to Kurt.

Kurt pulled out two guns from the shelf and Cooper froze, is he going to shoot me? Kurt seemed to notice the tension in Cooper's eyes and he lowered the guns down towards to floor as he faced him grimly.

“You will be using silver bullet guns.” Kurt announced, walking to Cooper and passing the light weighted guns to him.

Cooper nodded; slightly disappointed he wouldn't be getting to use any of the weaponry other than guns.

“I will pass you a few charm salt bracelets – you are to keep them on at all times,” Kurt commanded, walking to the desk and back against Cooper once again. “Be prepared. Shoot to kill,” he ordered softly. “Except Blaine.” Cooper added, looking at the intricately carved out guns made out of silver and had carvings of vines and leaves on.

Kurt snorted but nodded nonetheless.

Cooper turned on his heel and stalked out, hearing Kurt's voice, “We leave in 3 hours, Mr. Anderson.” He nodded inwardly, still slightly disturbed by the cold voice of Kurt in his mind.

Frankly, Mr. Anderson, if you have hunted as many beasts as I have – whether I was forced to kill or not – you start becoming inhuman yourself.”

What did Kurt mean?