I don't own Glee.

Playing the Blame Game

Dave groaned as his father lowered him onto one of the couches at the funeral home before joining the long line leading to the coffin. He closed his eyes against the throbbing pain that clutched him before opening them quickly, afraid of what he'd see. Dave tried to adjust the straps on his sling which felt like it was chocking him before letting his hand run over the thick bandage covering his right leg. Someone squeezed his shoulder as they passed behind him and Dave didn't have to look to know it was Blaine's mother, looking at him with sad eyes.

Ever since he had woken up in the hospital after five days, a machine breathing for him and his entire body screaming in agony, both his parents and the Anderson's were quick to assure him that they didn't blame him. They told him an old drunk had fallen asleep behind the wheel and gone left of center. It was a head on collision that no one could have avoided. Blaine was brain dead; his parents had waited long enough for Dave to wake up before pulling the plug. That was the only time Dave had cried, hugging his boyfriends limp hand to his chest as the final breath left his body.

They told him that they didn't blame him but that didn't matter because Dave blamed himself. He had been starving; craving ice cream from that one dairy place over by Indian Lake. It was a good half hour drive from Lima-an hour from Westerville- but Dave had begged Blaine to go with him before going back to Dalton. Finals were coming up and neither boy was going to have time to make the trip to see each other that week. Blaine had agreed, singing softly in the passenger seat of Dave's truck with a big grin on his face.

Dave vaguely remembers the car coming around the curve. He remembered the bright lights temporarily blinding him and he remembered having nowhere to go that wasn't a steep ditch, a tree, or a telephone poll. He had swerved, but in hindsight that one action had made things worse. The passenger side of his truck had taken most of the force. Dave remembered being trapped in the car, his arm pinned against bent metal and blood in his eyes as he watched Blaine bleed out. Dave passed out before the ambulance had gotten there.

The doctor's had barely been able to save his arm. They told him it would never be the same and hockey and football were out of the question. His right leg was broken and so were a few ribs. He had fought tooth and nail with the doctors to allow him to be at the viewing this evening and to attend the funeral the next day. Now that he was here he almost wished he was laying in his hospital bed again as they pumped pain killers into his body.

Blaine had stopped breathing as the EMT's cut him out of the car. They worked hard to get him breathing again, but his body was deprived of oxygen for too long. The doctor's had told the Anderson's that even if Blaine woke up, even if he was able to breathe on his own eventually, he would never be the same. He'd never be the same energetic, independent boy. The doctors were also sure to explain to the grieving parents that the chances of Blaine waking up were slim to none; there was no activity in his brain. Kelsey Anderson had been sure that nothing could make her cry harder than watching as her son was taking of life support. But watching Dave fall apart had sent her over the edge.

Dave chanced a glance at the casket again before taking in a shuddering breath and looking down at his hands again. He couldn't-no wouldn't-join the line full of Dalton blazers and pitying faces. From where he was sitting he could hear the Warbler's exchanging stories that would probably embarrass Blaine, laughing softly at the memories.

"Stop beating yourself up," a playful voice said from Dave's left side and the jock clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to look.

"You're not real" he mumbled, refusing to open his eyes.

"Nope," Blaine said, chuckling slightly. Dave finally turned and looked at the transparent figure next to him. Blaine reached out and laid a hand on Dave's good arm, sighing slightly when it sunk right through. "I won't stay long, I promise. I'm not going to be one of those creeps that follows you around and makes you even more guilty. But I just want you to know: I don't blame you, babe."

"I blame me," Dave said softly, tears filling his eyes. "It's my fault. We shouldn't have even been on that fucking road but my fat ass was hungry. It's my fault you're gone. It should have been me."

"David," Blaine said sternly, his eyes still having the shine that had always made Dave weak at the knees. "This isn't your fault, you hear me? It was just my time. Don't make me feel guilty for leaving you. I love you and I hate you feeling so horrible."

"Don't leave me," Dave whispered, fat tear drops falling down his face. "I need you, please don't leave me."

"You're stronger than you think, David. Trust me. I've watched you come some far the past year and a half and I'm so very proud of you. You'll make it without me, I know it."

"I want to go with you," Dave whimpered.

"Don't talk like that," Blaine whispered, trying unsuccessfully to grab Dave's arm again. "I love you, David Allen Karofsky. Now you be strong for me and stop blaming yourself. I'll always be there with you, even if you can't see me. I love you." Blaine pressed a cheek to Dave's cheek, even though he knew the larger teen couldn't feel it.

"I love you," Dave whispered back, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see Blaine disappear again. He kept his eyes closed until a gentle hand grabbed his good hand.

"Hey buddy, how you feeling? Why don't we get you back to the hospital, you're looking pretty pale." With that, Paul Karofsky helped his sun into a standing position.

"I-I want to see him first," Dave said quietly, shaking from pain in his father's arms. Paul sighed but nodded, leading his son to the front of the line. The Warbler's all looked at him with pitying looks as they let him by and Kurt shot him a small, sad smile as he placed a hand on his former bully's back as the broken boy stood in front of the casket.

Blaine looked just the same but different all at once. The veins that Dave had once been fascinated with now lay flat since there was no blood running through them. His complexion was off, far more pale than it should have been. Even under all the make-up, Dave could still see the cuts and bruises that covered Blaine's body. Paul looped an arm around Dave's waist as Dave stretched his uninjured arm out to trace over Blaine's arm.

"I love you," he whispered, nodding to his dad as he leaned heavily on the man for support. All of the other people at the viewing looked on in sadness as the broken boy was lead out of the funeral home. Dave broke down in sobs in the parking lot.

The next day, Dave sat in between Kurt and his father at the funeral. The gleek had forgiven him shortly after he had started dating Blaine and had soon became one of his best friends. Kurt sat on his left side, squeezing his uninjured hand as the pastor talked about the amazing boy Blaine had been. Dave didn't cry. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd completely cried himself out after returning to the hospital; the doctor had even sedated him before he could make himself sick.

After the pastor had finished talking, Dave sat down heavily in the wheelchair his father insisted he used. He was pushed to the cemetery next door to the church, Kurt's hand resting gently on his shoulder as they did so. He looked up as the pastor gave his last little speech above the grave and saw a rainbow. Dave almost laughed at the irony of a rainbow appearing the day his very gay boyfriend was being buried, but he shook it off as a sign that Blaine was thinking about him. As the Warbler's began quietly singing Hey Jude, Dave thought that maybe, just maybe he would make it through this. He still blamed himself, but maybe that was just something he could deal with.

AN: I have no idea what this was…