Hello!
Just here to drop some quick warnings and a disclaimer. I don't own South Park. This chapter, among many others to come, contains frequent mentions of blood and other gruesome stuff. Also mentions of Satanism (well duh) and abuse. There will also be sexual content in later chapters. If you are triggered by any of this stuff, please proceed carefully!
Otherwise, please enjoy!

Pip suddenly became aware that something was very wrong.

From the moment he stepped into the home of his dear friend Tweek (whom he had grown close through their middle school years;) a large wave of uncertainty crashed over him. He could hardly tell that the anxious teen was related to the rest of his family, the way the boy's parents offered the two coffee so casually; the lack of tension in the air and the feeling of… relief. Relaxing (as much as Tweek could, to say) and enjoying a marathon of the DVDs Craig had lent them earlier that day had gone differently than he was expecting. Not that he knew exactly what to expect, he found.

It was just different.

It was nearing Tweek's bedtime and Pip knew he was becoming a burden. He had stayed for far too long. He politely bid his farewells, insisting that Mrs. Tweak kept the tin that Pip had brought his baked goods in, telling her that he had far too many at home anyways. He left then, kicking ice chunks down the sidewalk as the chilly air rattled him to the core. Even after years and years of living here, it seemed Pip never learned that South Park didn't exactly have the proper weather for shorts. His thin legs buckled all the way as he hurried home. He gave a quick glance to the watch he had tucked away in his pocket—it was just before nine. The blond gave a sigh of relief, fumbling with his keys before pushing the front door open and stepping inside.

He could swear that he was stepping into a show home rather than a place where people actually lived. Pip quietly shut the door behind him and kicked off his shoes soundlessly, tucking them in the closet before he treaded up the stairs. Undoubtedly, his adoptive parents were already sleeping. Both of them were the early-to-bed, early-to-rise type of people. While Pip was more along the lines of late-to-bed, early-to-rise-anyway. He wasn't complaining though; he didn't mind a night without their company. It was more than needed—to be quite frank.

Pip didn't have any homework (he had done it all at Tweek's house) so he started getting ready for bed. He combed his hair, tying it up before washing his face and brushing his teeth. He hummed to himself all the while and crawled into bed within the next ten minutes. Pip didn't even bother to pull his book of the shelf and read, he just pulled his pillow close to him and rolled onto his side. He stared blankly at the wall.

Why was Tweek's home so much different than his own?

Pip wasn't allowed to bring any friends over. Not that he had many, anyways. The only reason he was allowed to go out tonight was because he fibbed and said he was spending his time at the library studying for the upcoming English exam. While quite normally that would be the case, he didn't feel the need to study. He didn't want to toot his own horn; but Pip's English was above average, if not the best in the class. That was only to be expected. He had been reading bible passages at the local Church with his parents since he was young. Before he knew how to add and subtract he was reading words that made all the adults seated in the pews surrounding them give Pip a double-take. He had the best mark in the class, undoubtedly, alongside Kyle Broflovski. Pip himself didn't care too much about rankings but his parents sure did. Heavens knows what would happen to him if he didn't get the highest score on the exam.

"Phillip, we raised you better than this!" His father would say, "We've done nothing but given you the best and this is how you repay us? We provide you with an education; Phillip! To do anything less than excel is not acceptable!"

The Brit sunk deeper under the sheets at the thought. That wouldn't happen. Definitely not. Maybe he'd go over to Tweek's place again and study with him there. But Tweek would give him the usual "Dude, your m-marks are higher than anyone in the class. W-Why do you need to study?" and tell him that Pip was worrying too much before giving him another cup of sweetly brewed coffee. He sighed and closed his eyes without giving it another thought.

Pip awoke the next morning to the obnoxious beeping of his alarm clock. Mouth open and chin coated with dried saliva, the blond groaned as he sluggishly batted his hand around in an attempt to turn off the alarm. He missed pathetically, knocking the entire clock to the floor where it still continued to screech. The darned thing got louder, if Pip could tell. He swerved his body and leaned down to turn it off, suddenly more awake from the occurrence. He was about to close his eyes again when he caught a glance of something on the floor.

What the-

He sat up almost immediately, rubbing his eyes as if he expected it to go away when he looked again but there it stayed. In the middle of his room, on the floor, there was blood. At least that's what it looked to be. Pip scrambled out of bed and hurried over to puddle; where he blinked in disbelief. Not only was it blood that stained the hardwood of his bedroom floor, but it appeared as if someone had put it there deliberately. It was smeared into a large inverted pentagram, much to his horror. Pip stared at it stupidly. How in God's name did something like that get here? The blood was fresh, too. Pip learned enough from Biology to know that blood dried rather quickly; and this was less than an hour old. The poor Brit was certainly disgruntled but rather than checking to make sure his parents were alright, as a normal person should, he hurried off to the bathroom to grab a dirty towel instead. He added a container of soap to the pile and took the basin filled with water. He reached his room and began scrubbing furiously at the stain on the hardwood, feeling rather squeamish as the crimson smeared and diluted with the water. Pip added more soap to the mix and continued to scrub.

But how…

It was then that Pip's mother opened the door to the room, obviously ready to yell him into oblivion about sleeping in again—but she stopped when she saw the boy on the floor, hunched over and cleaning away at the floor. "My word, what on earth happened in here Pip?" She frowned immediately.

Thankfully Pip had most of the mess cleaned up. Enough to tell that it wasn't blood smeared in the shape of a damned pentagram, at least. He looked up at his Mother and gave a shaky chuckle. "Good morning, Ma'. Oh—I just spilled some juice on the floor earlier; it was rather silly of me."

His Mother frowned. "Young man, you know you're not supposed to have food or drinks up in your room. What has your father told you about this?"

"Yes—I'm well aware. I don't know what came over me. I'm terribly sorry," Pip responded quietly. His Mother stared at him for a moment, then left the room without another sound. Apparently she wasn't able to tell how rattled up Pip was by the whole occurrence; whose face was currently contorted into a mixture of fear and confusion. What on earth had he done to have something like that happen to him? It wasn't as if he didn't attend Church anymore. In fact, his parents were pretty rigid about it. Not going wasn't an option, no matter what came up. He was Catholic without a doubt, so what brought this on?

Pip decided it would be best to ignore the whole phenomenon. He discarded the towel and spent the rest of the morning getting ready. Pip showered quickly and pulled on a short-sleeved button up shirt, followed by the burgundy sweater vest his Father had bought for him on his birthday. He slipped into his brown knickerbockers and was out the door in an instant, nearly forgetting to put on his paperboy hat as he left. Pip had his textbooks stacked high in his arms, for he hadn't found the time to actually place them in his empty bag which flapped against his side as he ran to school.

It wasn't that far of a walk, thankfully. He came running into his classroom looking more than a little bit rushed. Mrs. Harrison, his psychology teacher, stopped mid-sentence as the entire class turned to look in Pip's direction. An array of snickers and whispers were shot in his direction and Pip shamefully made his way over to his seat in the back. The teacher didn't say anything but continued on instead. It wasn't as if he was late on a regular basis so he was thankful she let it slide.

"Gosh, Pip. What gives?" The voice of Bebe pipes up as Pip sits down at his seat. She looks over at him with a teasing pout. "I thought I'd have to do the presentation by myself."

"My apologies. I woke up later than I intended. I'm not usually late, you know that," Pip frowned, obviously not detecting the playful tone laced in her words. Bebe rolled her eyes, then passed a few research papers onto his desk. Pip looked them over during the course of the class, hardly listening to the half-assed presentations given throughout the eighty minutes they were stuck there. It was obvious they wouldn't be able to present today. Not that Pip minded, no one seemed to be paying attention to what was going on anyways. Once Clyde finished his presentation on bereavement, Bebe was pulled from her dreamy state and began to pack up.

"You'd better be here on time tomorrow," Bebe said, pulling her bag over his shoulder as she watches Pip gather his stuff together. "You know, I'd be willing to text you to make sure you're up in the morning. You need to get a cellphone, mister!"

Pip gave the thought a weak smile. "My parents would never allow that,"

"I don't see why not," She went on, walking alongside Pip as they entered the hallway. She waved at Kyle as he passed by, then turned her attention back to her British friend. "It'd benefit them too, y'know? It's like, if you're gonna stay out late or something; you could just call and let them know. And they could call you whenever their worried about you or something,"

"I suppose. But they don't like me fannying around as it is." Pip sighed, taking the time to rebutton his collar seeming as he hadn't done it up properly the first time. "S all right though. I'll be here on time tomorrow,"

Bebe smiled, giving Pip a playful push to the shoulder. "You better! Or I'm gonna say I did all the work!" She called, waving to him over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hallway to her next class.

Pip smiled to himself as she left. Bebe was so kind to him.

He didn't need to stop at his locker before he trekked off to English class. They had exam prep today. As mentioned, Pip wasn't worried about the exam at all; but he needed to get his mind off of what had happened earlier. It wasn't as if he could talk to Tweek or Bebe about it. Without a doubt they'd tell him that he must have been sleepwalking. Damnit, no! The blood was real. The smell had been real. The feel of it was so real it still gave him the shivers. As if the warm crimson was oozing between his fingertips at the very moment-

Pip nearly lept a foot in the air, dropping everything he was holding as he scrambled backwards. I-It… It was still there! He stared at his hand, watching blood spurt everywhere as if it was his own wound. He paid the concerned crowd that gathered around him no mind, gaping at his bleeding hand in disbelief as it pooled at his feet. The smell of it. Oh heavens—it was horrific. It smelled as if something was burning. As if something that wasn't meant to be burned was lit a fire right under his nose. He leaned against the lockers, breath labored and thoughts running at a mile a minute. He didn't even notice Kyle push through the crowd and scurry up to him.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Kyle demanded, grabbing Pip by the shoulders. The blond's rattled expression tore from his hand to Kyle, then back to his hand. But there was nothing. Nothing but the sight of his trembling fingertips. Pip's face drained, staring in awe as he flexed his fingertips. There really was nothing there. "What the hell, man?"

"O-Oh dear," Pip mouthed finally, looking around as kids began to dilute, muttering things among themselves. "Did you… not see that, Kyle?"

"I didn't see shit, man. You better go to the nurse's office. You probably got a fever or somethin'. If we do anything important in English, I'll let you know." Kyle spoke sternly, folding his arms across his chest in emphasis. Pip sighed pitifully, glancing down to the floor in shame. But he could have sworn…

"I'll be alright, Kyle," Pip reassured him, lifting his hands in defense. "I'm just feeling rather right knackered,"

Kyle didn't know what that meant but he let out an irritated huff. "Whatever man, just don't go freaking out in the hallway anymore," He frowned. "Let's go,"

Pip blinked in disbelief for a moment. Kyle was inviting him to walk alongside him? That was certainly odd, but he was too riled up to give it a second thought. It was more than likely because Eric wasn't with them though. The rather large boy was the only one that had a problem with him, as far as Pip was concerned. He didn't speak any more as he followed Kyle to their English room, taking his seat soundlessly as Kyle took his. There was a few other people in the room but not many. It wasn't as if Pip could be bothered by it though. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice that someone was sitting beside him. Someone who was staring right at Pip, so blatantly obvious.

"Hey moron,"

That alone was enough to make Pip jump out of his skin. His gaze snaps in the direction he was called, to which his eyes widened. Why couldn't he stop seeing things? What the hell was wrong with him today? Although much to his despair (or relief, Pip wasn't sure quite yet) the boy chuckled, sinking deeper into his desk. Oh, he was very much real.

"Calm down, love. I just wanted to borrow your notes," He said again, voice smooth as butter. His lips curled into a crooked smirk, short-trimmed brows rising in amusement. "Would you mind?"

The Brit turned his head again, meeting that twisted crimson gaze dead on. Pip looked as if he had just seen a ghost; that much was certain. He stared at the lanky, black-haired boy in disbelief. Oh no, oh no. It clicked instantly. Pip couldn't forget a face like that. Sure his features were sharper; his figure was taller and his hair was better kept—but that was a face that he could recognize in a crowd of millions.

"Damien?"

Chapter one fin.
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