Fate Brought Me Back

Rated: M for smut, language, and crude shit

Two-Part One-Shot

Pairing: KylexStan (Style)

Warning: Yes, the above means it is a gay/slash/homosexual/yaoi story. If you do not like that sort of thing I suggest you turn around and go about your business. If any flaming in the reviews show up your comment will swiftly be removed and ignored.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the characters in this story. I am not making any profit what-so-ever from this work of fiction, simply using the characters for my own joy and amusement.

Description: After being kicked out of his now ex-girlfriend Wendy's house Stan is left with no where to go. After trying to make his way back to South Park for three days he finds himself at a bar in a city in Colorado that he doesn't know the name of. What happens when fate sends an old friend his way and a bit of luck?

Part One

Eighteen was not a good age to move far away from your parents. Eighteen was not a age for anyone to move into their girlfriends house. Eighteen was not a good age to break off life-long friendships that could have lasted a lifetime longer. Eighteen was the age that Stan Marsh made all of these mistakes. At the time they all seemed like good choices. At the time he would have done anything to make his life easier, and these decisions were the ones he made thinking that they would affect his life for the better.

At the age of fifteen Wendy Testaburger came to Stan in the halls of their high school. She told him she wanted to put all their childhood relations in the past and wanted to start again fresh as a serious couple. In the past this statement would have made the black haired teen throw up. Instead he confidently smiled and nodded his head, taking her hand as if he sold his soul to Satan himself. He remained close with his childhood friends: Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick, and yes even Eric Cartman (who did not calm down with any of his pranks or racism over the years), but the day after their graduation night changed all of that.

Wendy begged Stan to take her away to another town, another state- just anywhere that wasn't South Park Colorado. At the time he had been saving his money from his part-time job at the City Wok, and agreed turning in his two-week notice and packing his things away. He spent the two weeks he had left in South Park hunting down an apartment that he and Wendy could rent, and ended up finding a place in Nevada that had a decent rate. The day he packed up his beat up 1969 Camero was the day he said goodbye to everyone. His friends, especially Kyle who was still considered his best friend, told him to call them as soon as he got settled in. He never did.

He got a job at a food market as a bagger and worked his way up to a produce handler. The pay wasn't amazing, but it kept food on the table and the bills paid. Wendy had a tougher time adapting to the new place. She would stay out till late at night and would never have any other excuse other than job hunting for her reason being out so late. Stan was oblivious to any and all hints that she was just out having fun without him, and was being left with all the bills.

Stan walked lazily up the stairs of their apartment complex, making his way to the third and top floor. He was now twenty, not fully regretting his choice to move away, but fully regretting not keeping in touch with his friends. He regrettably lost their numbers years ago, and the constant working was keeping him on his toes. He wanted friends again, like Wendy had. She didn't work, she hadn't found a job since they moved there, and had plenty of time to make new friends as she searched the city for a job that suited her tastes.

He trudge down the greasy smelling hall fishing out his keys and unlocking the door. Another tiring day at work fending off kids with sticky fingers who prodded his merchandise, and dropped the vegetables on the floor as if they were their play things. He just wanted to go into his room and collapse. What he didn't expect as the door swung open was a set of boxes piled up in the doorway.

"Uh, Wendy?" he called out, squeezing through the small opening she left between the cardboard pillars.

"Oh good, you are back. I packed all your things, I assume you got my voice mail?" Wendy walked into the hall, her face plastered with makeup, her hand on her hips as she looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What're you talking about? Why did you pack my shit?"

"Oh, I guess I called the wrong Stan," she lamented, Stan's brows raising in both confusion and shock of the statement, "Well, I'm kicking you out. I found a new man, a real man. He has a real job, he wants to get married to me. I figured you wouldn't mind just going back home to South Park so I took the liberty of sending in your letter of resignation, and called your parents. They are expecting you home in a few days."

What was she talking about? Stan stumbled back, using one of the pillars to keep his balance. Why was all this happening? He was providing for her. He found this place. He did all that she wanted.

"Why?" he finally squeaked out, standing upright, looking at her in the eyes, "Why? What did I do wrong?"

The black-haired woman sighed and flicked her hair behind her shoulders shrugging, "You just aren't for me. Now please leave, I don't want to make this any harder than it already is."

Stan regrettably did as he was told, and took his boxes down to his car. He shoved three of them, and one small one into his trunk, then four in the back seats and a backpack with another small box in the passenger seat. He stared up at their window as he heard a noise, and reached out catching a rolled up ball of fabric that Wendy tossed down. He nearly grinned at his knitted blue and red cap that Kyle had made for him when his other one got too small. He hadn't seen this one in two years, and nearly had forgotten that he even had it. He shoved it on his head, got into the car, then started the engine, driving off in the direction he knew Colorado was in.

He was tired, depressed, and now homeless for the time being. Why was God doing this to him? He worked hard every day since they left South Park Colorado. He showered Wendy with all she wanted. Was all this depression really deserved? He wasn't sure exactly. All he knew right then was that he was now recalling what it felt like being a Goth back in elementary school. He remembered dressing in all black, wearing eyeliner and writing depressing poetry with the other Goth-kids. As he pulled into a rest-stop after an hour of driving he mused at his wardrobe. He was wearing all black since it was his work uniform, but the irony of the whole situation baffled him. He turned off the car, locked the doors, then curled up in a ball humming a song he didn't know the words to to help himself lull to sleep.

Sunlight broke at nearly six in the morning. Stand had nearly forgotten where he was, or why he was asleep in his car, but frowned when he saw the boxes in the backseats. It wasn't a dream, and this was all reality. He hated it, but there was nothing else he could do. He opened his backpack, pulled out a toothbrush, tooth paste and a bar of soap that was put in a plastic bag, then rummaged through a few boxes till he found a red shirt, some jeans and a fresh pair of socks and underwear. He walked to the bathrooms, changed his clothes, washed his face and brushed his teeth before heading back to the car feeling a tiny bit refreshed now that he was all cleaned up.

He checked his phone, half hoping that there was going to be a missed call or two from Wendy, but had no new messages, just a big date on the screen that made him groan. It was October 19th, a date that he had almost forgotten it had existed. She broke up with him and kicked him out on the eve of his birthday. Had she forgotten, or was she just that low as to deliver a blow like that? He wasn't exactly sure of the answer, but quickly turned off his phone so he could preserve the battery and started the car once again, heading off in the direction of Colorado.

Stan did not stop for much other than the occasional fill-up of gas and water. He rarely ate at all, he had no appetite to even open his mouth for any sort of solid food, but by the third day of traveling his stomach lurched angrily ignoring his feeling and depression shrieking for attention and nourishment. He stopped at another rest stop, buying a few bags of trail mix from the vending machines and another bottle of water before returning to his car to munch on his makeshift meal.

Where was he? He didn't have the slightest clue. Did he make a wrong turn? As he finished up the third bag of trail mix, he let out a yawn. It was getting dark, and the food had made him feel more tired than he really should. He looked at the clock on his dashboard, and roared the engine to life once more. It was only nearing seven at night. He could make a few more miles before he had to turn in for some sleep. Hopefully he was making both good time and heading in the right direction...

He hit civilization at nearly ten. It was a big city, but he didn't pay enough attention to the signs around him to figure out which. He stopped in a parking lot of a bar, and stared at the sign for what seemed like ages before he got out of the car and wandered inside. He still had some cash left, why not head in for his first legal beer?

The bar was quaint and cozy as if they were in a small town instead of a city. He sat on a stool at the front, the bartender tending a man off to the side before walking over to him and giving him a smile, "What'll it be kid? And I need to check yer I.D. if it's got booze in it," he stated more as an after-fact than anything else. Stan nodded his head, pulling out his wallet and sliding his I.D. to him, watching him check it and look up at him, "You just turned legal, eh? Well happy birthday kid, have a glass on me," the bartender grabbed a glass from behind him and filled it to the brim, "Real German Ale for ya," he winked, stepping back and watching as he tried it.

It was nothing close to the beers he use to sneak with Kenny back in South Park. It was richer, and had more of a hearty taste that made his taste buds yell for more. "Thanks, man," he thanked, as if they knew each other for years. He knew his voice was raspy, after all he hadn't spoken a word since he drove away from his old home, but didn't particularly care.

"You look miserable, what's eatin' ya?"

Stan mused for a moment. How to start it? The beginning? The end? What all should he leave out and what all should he mention? He figured to keep it short and simple, "My ex tossed me out right after work. No signs of it or anything till she kicked me to the curb. I did everything for her." He paused a moment before figuring it wouldn't hurt to continue on, "Moved her out of our hometown because she wanted to leave. Found a home in Nevada, worked every day only taking a sick day here and there only to be kicked to the side after being told that she found a real man... Pah..." he shook his head looking down at his glass and taking another swig of the amber-colored drink.

"Tha's rough," the bartender stated, then paused looking to the door as the bell attached the door jingled softly, "S'cuse me for a moment," he said, walking from behind the bar and over to the door. "Yer early."

"Yeah, boss had me work late and sent me on deliveries the day before to late night businesses."

Stan's ears perked up. He knew that voice. But from where? His head turned to look at the door. There was a blonde boy who looked just out of his teens, wearing a gray company t-shirt with it's logo on the right breast of the shirt, and the back. He wore torn up old jeans, and beat up black steel-toe boots. Who was this kid? It was probably just a ghost out to haunt him. He was sure of it, till the boys blue eyes looked over in his direction and his mouth gaped.

"Stan? Stan Marsh?"

The bartender looked to Stan, then to the boy once again, obviously recalling the name that he read on his I.D.. "Ya know this guy, Kenny?" the man asked, Kenny nodding his head and scrambling over to him, and snatching his shoulders spinning him to face him.

"You asshole, where have you been?"

An insult. He hadn't been insulted in years, especially by someone who seemed so close to him by the way he gazed at him. "Shut up you twit," was that really the best he could come up with?

"He's had a bit of a rough time, Kenny. Don't be too rough on him for whatever he did to you in the past," the bartender stated, in case Kenny's insult was because of a past feud.

"Rough time? Hey... Why are you here in Denver? I thought you and Wendy headed out to Nevada?"

That hit a nerve. This was really Kenny McCormick. He wasn't a ghost haunting him. The fact that he knew the general area of where he went, and his ex-girlfriend was enough to prove that. His face twisted as he tried hard not to cry. All the emotions he was ignoring as he was driving hit him like a speeding truck down a highway. He turned his head down, his friend jetting forward and pulling him up.

"I should take him home," he stated to the bartender, who nodded in understanding as the blonde walked to the door, holding on to the black-haired man's shoulders. He led him past his own car that he didn't bother even mentioning and walked him to a delivery truck. "That was my last delivery for the night so we only have to make a quick detour to the plant so I can drop this old piece of junk off and get my own car... Speaking of which, how did you make it here?"

"I drove. Wendy kicked me out the other day... She said she called my parents to let them know I was coming home, sent in my letter of resignation..." as he was climbing in the truck a few sobs escaped his mouth, making him cover his face in haste, attempting to stop the tears.

"Dude it's okay," Kenny cooed, reaching out and patting his shoulder, "Just let it out. That's gotta hurt. Just cry, scream, do whatever you need to. The bright side is you came back right? A lot has happened since you left... And we've really missed you. Even fatass comments every so often that he wished you were back."

Kenny took the parking break off of the truck and quickly turned it out of parking lot and made his way down the dark and very dimly lit city. Why didn't Stan offer to drive himself to Kenny's place? As he hunched over, his question was answered. He hugged himself as he started to let loose, his tears freely flowing out as incoherent sobs escaped his lips. Why did this hurt so much now? Why did his heart ache?

The blonde man helped Stan out of the truck and into a small, but clean pickup truck, which he climbed into once he returned the delivery truck keys to the office. He started the engine which roared to life with little to no sound. The beanie wearing man hiccuped making himself look over to Kenny who smiled, "Here's one of the things that has changed. I have money, and fatass is the poor one. Though, I'm not sure if anyone would make fun of him at this point..."

Stand didn't know what he meant by that, but didn't bother asking as he curled up into a ball, pressing his cheek to the cool window. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, "Where's Kyle?" he asked, not bothering to even open his eyes as he started to question himself why Kyle was the first one to be asked about.

"Well he was living with us, but now he lives in some apartment by the hospital. He's doing pretty well off by himself, though he doesn't get out much..." Stan felt that Kenny wasn't telling him something, but didn't press the matter.

"So that means you are living with Cartman?"

"Other way around actually. His mom died last month so he moved up here and took over my couch. I told him to just take Kyle's old room but he keeps saying 'I am not sleeping in a bed that, that dirty Jew once slept in' as if he has a right to be picky about where he sleeps," he half scoffed.

Kenny pulled up on the side of a street, parking on the curb that was labeled "H-11" whatever that meant, and got out Stan following suit. He felt like his eyes were balloons, but ignored it after rubbing them twice and following Kenny into a towering apartment building. He walked to the elevator, pressed the third floor, and they waited as the old sounding machine cranked to life and slowly pulled them up. It was quite possibly the longest elevator ride that the black-haired man had ever taken. They exited the elevator, the smell of everyone in the halls cooking meshed together to make it smell like old and dirty socks that had not been cleaned in years. He pinched his nose, Kenny laughing and nodding indicating that he understood the stench and walked to a door, unlocking it and holding it open for him.

The inside of the apartment, thankfully, didn't smell bad. He noticed a few air fresheners scattered across the place, but didn't comment or blame them in the slightest for having them. The sound of something loud and snoring was coming from the couch, which when he looked was an even bigger Cartman. As if he needed the name Fatass to describe how he looked... His stomach hung out of his T-shirt that seemed to be two times too small for him. He wore a beanie on his head but no pants. His leg hung over the back of the couch making his legs spread eagle-style as he snored away.

"Oh come on Lardo, wear some pants you douche bag!" Kenny threw a balled up piece of paper at the snoring man making him simply grunt and roll over towards the back of the couch. "Nasty..." He turned to look at Stan again, "It's crazy. I just can't get over that you are here... Oh, do you want to sleep? You can take Kyle's old room," he took his arm so he couldn't protest and lead him to the barely touched room. There were just two or three extra boxes laying around, but aside from that was bare with a bed in the corner with the sheets all made.

Stan nodded his head in thanks, and walked over to the bed, flopping forward and groaning as his muscles instantly relaxed at the feeling of something so soft. It hadn't been very long since he had been in a bed, but the way his muscles had ached from sleeping curled up in the car made it feel like months.

Kenny smiled, and closed the door behind his friend, glaring at Eric as he let out another snort, then reaching down and yanking the TV remote from his piggy fingers and turning off the muted Television. He walked to his room, closed the door and pulled out his cellphone. It was nearly one in the morning by now, and he knew that Kyle would be asleep, but would he mind waking up to the news of their best friend showing up?

He finally decided to, pressing the call button and holding the phone to his ear, listening to it ring twice before a groggy voice greeted his ears. "Yeah Ken? What is it?"

"Stan's here."

"What?" his voice turned up ten volumes, instantly waking up as Kenny was sure the other sat up abruptly.

"I found him at a bar when I was delivering stock. Seems like that bitch Wendy gave him the boot. He's really choked up. I just put him in your old room."

"I'll come over in the morning, is that okay?"

"Yeah sure dude."

They hung up their phones without any real goodbye, Kenny yawning and stretching as he plugged in the device and flopped back on his own bed. He really hoped that Stan was here to stay for good. Maybe the old gang would finally be together again...

Kyle was back at his old apartments at nearly eight in the morning. He debated on coming in a bit later, and had called into work sick only to stand in front of the apartment and stare at the door. He took in a deep breath, then unlocked the door only to be greeted with the sound of shooting coming from the TV. He closed the door behind him and entered the apartment, watching the view of Call of Duty being played on the screen as Cartman's chubby fingers hit the bottoms of the XBOX at the speed of light.

"What do you want Faggot?" Cartman snapped looking back and glaring at Kyle, who just narrowed his eyes in return.

"Where's Kenny you fat piece of shit?" he asked, the large man staggering to his feet and yanking at his T-shirt in an attempt to pull it over his shame.

"I'm not fat you stupid Jew!"

The door to Kenny's room opened as the man in question exited the room, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he gestured for Kyle to follow him, and led him into the Master bedroom's small bathroom. He spit out the white paste and gargled before spitting out the contents, and patted his mouth dry. "Cartman doesn't have a clue that Stan's here. He was passed out last night when we got here. I guess I should mention it, but I don't know if Stan's awake or not."

Kyle mulled over his thoughts and shrugged, "Just tell him, I'll play sumo with his royal fatness if he tries to go in."

They both heard a thud, and looked towards the door to the living room, both blinking then rushing to see what happened. As soon as they entered they were greeted with Cartman's yelling as he scrambled to his feet and waddled over to Stan and gave him an uncharacteristically large hug.

"When the fuck did you get here?!" the large, brown haired man asked, pulling away from the contact as soon as he noticed what he was doing.

"Last night, I ran into Kenny last night and he let me stay the night," Stan rubbed the back of his head, and looked up to see Kyle, standing there in a green cap, grinning at him. His orange hair stuck out from under the cap, but seemed more neat from what he could see. He hadn't seemed to age a day since they left. In fact, that only one that really had changed was Cartman. "I suppose it's too late to apologize for leaving?" he asked, looking down then receiving a punch on his arm from the closer man.

"Yeah you stupid bitch, you left us for that stupid cunt!" Eric yelled, his brows furrowing in annoyance.

"Well she's gone, alright? You don't have to worry about her. She's probably married now and in the process of getting knocked up," Stan glared at the ground, not noticing as Kyle walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Will you stay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah man, I mean I was originally heading back to South Park but... If you guys are here then fuck that," Stan smiled. Being able to freely cuss was somewhat a relief, though he knew he was really out of practice after having to break the habit when they moved. "Where is here anyway?"

Kyle blinked and looked to Kenny who shrugged, then looked back at Stan once again, "Denver."

"Oh." He distantly remembered Kenny asking him why he was in Denver last night, but shook his head and forced a grin on his lips as he looked between his friends. It was amazing to see them, even Cartman. They weren't too mad at him, and seemed just as happy to see him as he was to see them.

"Hey man, I do have to tell you something though..." Kyle left his hand drop to his side, Cartman shifting to the side to sit back on the couch as if ignoring whatever it was that Kyle was going to say. Kenny stayed where he was, though he crossed his arms and looked uncomfortably to the ground. Stan looked at him questioningly, but judging by the reactions of the other two, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what he had to say.

"I'm gay."

A/n: The next part will be up either later on today or tomorrow, depends on when I get to finishing the last few things and I want to get down. Please review and let me know what you think. First South Park fic even though I've been a Style fan for a few years now.