Authors Note: Hey, this is not the story I was writing, it belongs to someone else who I asked for a request. So I thought I could share,….by the way the story is not finished because the person who wrote it, maybe won't write it anymore. So if any of you see any beavis/daria fic or thought about writing it, please let me know.

...and yes, it is a Beavis/Daria fic

Disclaimer: I don't own Beavis and Butthead and Daria.

Voices. All he could hear were voices. People talking around him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. As he began to regain consciousness, Beavis lifted his head off his desk and looked straight ahead. His vision was still a bit blurry from having rested his face on his arm as he slept on his desk, but he could make out the teacher, a substitute, judging by the fact that he didn't recognize her. How long had he been asleep?

Noticing his partially-awake state, the student to his left took the opportunity to shoot a particularly wet spitwad right into his ear. Fuzzy as he was, no fartknocker was going to shoot spitwads at him and get away with it without at least a nice insult. He'd show that kid.

But as he turned to the boy and opened his mouth to lay into him, a taunting look that said bring it on, sleepy smurf staring back at him, he realized he didn't care enough to bother. The things the other kids said - that he used to be the one to say - didn't seem to be as important as they once were. Nothing really mattered now that Butthead was dead.

Fartknocker, Beavis thought. Doesn't he remember? Dying sucks. But in the days since his friend's passing, Beavis had learned another truth: being alone sucked far more.

The bell rang. Everyone ran toward the door, intent on getting away from Ms. Whateverhernamewas. He didn't know why, she seemed friendlier than most teachers. At least he thought so, as she had at least let him sleep through class without yelling at him to wake the fuck up as most of his other teachers did. Still, she was a teacher, so he knew she couldn't be trusted. But for an enemy, she seemed nice.

He stood up from his desk and walked out the door into the hallway in a daze, not really noticing a short-for-her-age girl with wavy brown hair coming around the corner until it was too late and he had run right into her, crashing with her to the floor along with the contents of her bag. In retrospect, he remembered seeing her out of the corner of his eye, but it hadn't stopped him from bowling her over.

"Watch where you're going" she exclaimed. It was more of a frustrated sigh than the angry yell he had been expecting.

"Heh, hmm... Sorry 'bout that ma'am." he mumbled to her as he gently picked up her things that were out of her reach and placed them in her bag that had somehow landed in his lap. "I was thinking about other stuff."

"Well, ok, but be more careful next time."

The odd look on her face did not go unnoticed by Beavis as he stood first and then helped her up. He didn't know what look he had expected, but he thought it would have been more upset. And the girl herself... She looked somehow familiar. He gave up trying to place her as they went their separate ways, her walking toward the gymnasium and Beavis in the direction of the cafeteria. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he should know who she was.

Dani, Delphina, Daphne... Something that started with a D. He completely forgot about her when he saw the line of kids in the cafeteria, all waiting to get food. His slow pace leaving Spanish class and his little incident in the hall had delayed him just enough that his usual position near the front was currently packed with cheerleaders wearing tight skimpy outfits, apparently fresh from practice. He started to get a stiffy before he noticed the football jocks headed right toward the cheerleaders, cutting the whole team in line just behind the scantily-clad girls, obscuring his view. He knew he would never get to touch one of them, but he at least liked to look at them with their tight bodies and revealing outfits.

Cock blockers, he thought at them as he sighed. If Butthead was here, we'd complain about you and insult your stupid jock faces and your stupid football game and... But that line of thinking just felt like it too wasn't worth the effort. He just couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with anything.

His stomach, however, had other ideas. He was hungry, and the length of the line was too long to actually serve him before he'd have to run to his next class. So he walked back into the hallway and out the main door into the late morning sun, its rays bathing him in a comforting blanket of warmth he hadn't realized he needed. It was decided, he was taking the rest of the day off. Wasn't he entitled to some sort of grieving period or something? That stupid fat ho of a school nurse had said something along those lines when the administration had learned of Butthead's death due to a brain hemorrhage that had started during class. He had been taken to the hospital, but it was already too late. He had been pronounced dead in the ambulance.

Across the large lawn on the other side of the hedges the school district seemed to love funding more than they loved paying for more important things, the same brown-haired girl was jogging on the track with her best friend Jane, a taller, "hotter" asian girl who was almost always by her side. It was she who first noticed Beavis walking on the sidewalk away from the school.

"Any idea why our valedictorian is cutting class?" she asked the shorter girl sarcastically.

"No idea. I ran into him in the hallway earlier, and he didn't seem to recognize me. I think he's taking the death of his only friend harder than anyone thought possible." Daria replied as she jogged off the oval track and onto the wet grass to see Beavis better.

"What, did you think he couldn't feel grief just because he's a total loser with the vocabulary of a 3rd-grader and the IQ of the chemically-poisoned hot dog I'm going to enjoy eating at lunch and then immediately vomiting up in the bathroom before 5th period? He's human, if only just barely. I kinda feel sorry for him." Jane added, putting a hand on Daria's shoulder. "Let's get back to running before coach starts yelling at us."

With a nod of agreement Daria turned back to the track and the two finished jogging, their minds quickly forgetting the blond boy with the broken heart.

***** Two weeks later *****

Beavis heard the clang of the mailbox flap outside and wondered why he hadn't heard the sound in a while. He had received a large volume of mail at first, mostly companies wanting to know where to forward Butthead's medical bills. The bastards wanted to charge someone for the ambulance ride that didn't even save him. But almost nothing came anymore. He had stopped receiving new mail about the same time he had stopped going to school.

I wonder which one it is this time, he wondered. Do they think I'm going to pay those monkey spankers for not keeping Butthead alive?

He opened the door and reached into the mailbox without actually leaving the house, grabbing the sole item inside and closed the door again when he was fully back inside.

It isn't a bill? It was a hand-written letter addressed to "Beavis, you jizz blanket". Probably one of those pussies at school trying to prank me. Only Butthead ever called me a 'jizz blanket'. The curiosity got the better of him though, and he opened the letter to find a note written in far better handwriting than Butthead could have ever dreamed of using. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember Butthead ever writing anything that wasn't in spray paint or permanent marker. He shook the stray thought from his mind as he began to read the note.

Hey loser. I've been watching you ever since I died, and all you've done is mope around like a douchebaguette.. Huh huh huh, I said douche, and then baguette! Huh huh huh. Anyway, stop being a turd burgler and get back to school so that at least one of us can eventually learn how to score with women and stop spanking our monkeys.. I think you have to be nice to them for a long time, or something. Maybe that was why I could never get any of the bitches at school to suck my wiener.

It sucks here even more than it did when I was alive, because there's no one to talk to except other dead people. And they're all, like, ummm...dead, or something. So they're stupid. You should score with a chick so I can at least live viscerally through you, or whatever. You monkey-spanking fartknocker.

Butthead

Even though he was sure the letter had been written by someone trying to prank him - someone with really nice handwriting and an incomplete grasp of Butthead's more recent verbal clichés - it really did sound like Butthead. A tear rolling down his cheek, he imagined the braces-wearing teen floating on a tiny cloud, or perhaps just levitating there, just above him, telling him to go meet chicks and score.

A long sigh escaped before he wandered back to bed. Maybe there was something to the idea of being nice to girls. But who could he approach who wouldn't just yell at him and call him a freak? As he lay there letting his mind flip through all the girls he could remember, he thought of the one he had run into in the hallway weeks ago. She hadn't yelled at him, and he had knocked her down, spilling all her stuff on the floor. He'd start with her.

He rolled over in bed, fluffing his pillow a bit and shoveling all the empty drink boxes off the bed in one sweeping motion as he closed his eyes and pulled the sheet snugly around his thin frame, trying to get warm again.

Tomorrow. He'd start with her tomorrow.