Wendy woke with a headache from hell. She could never remember feeling like her head was going to explode, and she half wished that it would. At least the pain would end. As she lay in bed, her eyes unwilling to open, she wondered if she were sick, because she could not come up with any other reason for her head to hurt so.

Eyes still closed, she frowned when she heard a groan that echoed how she felt. If Kyle was half as ill as she felt, they must have Legionnaire's disease or something, and that would probably mean that the entire team was sick. Harvard would be forfeiting the debate, something completely unheard of.

"Wendy, I love you, but why the hell are you in my bed?"

She grimaced at the volume of his voice, though he was by no means loud, and then the words caught up to her. Her eyes flew open, though she could not help but curse at the bit of light that came in, piercing her skull.

"I'm not in…" she saw her bed, empty and made; the mint on the pillow still there. "Why am I in your bed?"

Kyle huffed and immediately groaned, and Wendy could only imagine that the expression had worsened whatever headache he had.

Deciding that she needed to figure out what was going on, she forced herself to take inventory of her body through the pain and fog of her head. Her stomach was queasy, enough that she was pretty sure that the simple act of sitting up would cause any food she'd eaten last night to reappear, though she wasn't sure if or what she had eaten.

Not wanting to dwell on the issue of food, as it was not helping the queasy at all, she moved on to the rest of her body. She was sore. Sore the way she was in a morning after a night of sex with Bebe. And naked. And…

"Shit! Fuck! No!" Kyle must have reached the same conclusion at about the same time.

"How? Why? And back to how? How is this is even possible?" Each word made her head ache more, but there was no way to keep silent.

"I don't know. I don't remember. Damnit." Wendy finally moved her head enough to peer at Kyle through half-lidded eyes.

"How… you… I… damnit. You wouldn't rape me, but putting that aside… not to be crude but…" Wendy trailed off. Even under the circumstances she couldn't quite say what she was thinking.

"I shouldn't have been able to get it up for you? No… but you shouldn't have wanted me to, either. And thank you for not assuming I raped you." She couldn't tell from the rasp in his voice if that had been meant as sarcasm or sincere.

"I know you wouldn't… Gods, Bebe and Stan…" she closed her eyes, the pain not of what they had apparently done but of how it would affect the two they cared about the most overwhelming her physical pain completely for a moment.

"Fuck."

Wendy would have nodded in agreement, but she was not sure she could handle that at the moment. "Yeah."

"I didn't drink last night. Not alcohol. So why the hell am I hung over? Forget anything else." Kyle's voice was almost desperate, and she knew her own feelings echoed that.

"Wish I could… but yeah, I didn't either. And I didn't see any drugs much less do any. But there's also this… period after which I don't remember anything." Wendy sighed. In some drug induced haze, she and Kyle had basically thrown a significant portion of their lives away, and she couldn't even remember how it had happened.

"Something must have been laced…" Kyle groaned again, "Would it destroy Stan and Bebe too much if we just killed ourselves now? I cannot get up right now, and I would rather never face them."

The drive back to Boston was miserable. Kyle and Wendy were not the only members of the team who had gotten trashed, though no one could remember doing anything that would have resulted in that. The party that the Dartmouth team had hosted had been quiet, the kind of milling around social event one would expect from nerds.

Their coach had been forced to accept their protestations of innocence when the Yale and Princeton coaches turned up with the same problem and only the Dartmouth team seemed unaffected.

Trying to keep her voice low, the coach was one phone in the front of van, trying to make sure that an investigation was begun. What brain power Wendy could muster caused her to realize that there would be no champion this year, with three teams forfeiting and one sure to be disqualified. That was a solution she could live with, at least, to that problem.

The most immediate problem, however, was sitting beside her staring out of the window. They'd been awkward around each other all morning, once they'd realized that there was no real way to get out of bed without seeing each other naked. Something that had never been an issue before.

They rode in silence; the whole team did. But occasionally, Kyle would look over at Wendy and smile weakly. He'd open his mouth, as if to tell her that everything would be all right, and then shut it with a sigh. Wendy would reach over and lay her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. What had been, before last night, easy affection between the two friends, became difficult and awkward.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Wendy was not one given to histrionics, and she knew that, eventually, she'd be able to live a happy life even if the worst happened and Bebe could never forgive her. It was hard to imagine her life without Bebe, but she'd manage and, one day, be able to be happy again. But none of that knowledge prevented her from feeling as if her world had fallen apart just because some idiots couldn't prepare decent arguments.

A tentative hand tugged at her and she opened her eyes to look into Kyle's as he nodded a bit. Giving in, she allowed him to pull her so that her head rested on his shoulder.

"I'm scared."

He nodded and looked back out the window. "Me too. But at the very least, we need to be able to count on each other right now."

Stan and Bebe had planned on enjoying the debate. They'd even invited Kenny and Cartman over to watch it with them. They'd watch Harvard's finest minds tear apart those pseudo-intellectuals at the lesser Ivy League schools.

Stan grinned as he heard Kenny fiddling around in the kitchen. He was pretty sure that not having a lot to eat had lead the boy to a very healthy appreciation of food. Ken had become the very definition of a "foodsie." While Stan was glad to eat whatever he cooked—especially since it could involve meat, milk, or eggs, and did not have to be kosher—he knew that without the others, he'd probably be quite content to live out of the microwave.

Bebe wasn't back from her yoga class, yet, and Cartman was volunteering with a youth organization. The ways he had changed over the years were quite amazing, and sometimes Stan couldn't believe that he was the same kid who had tried to legally rape Kyle as kids.

Smirking at his own introspection, he moved to set the TV up. The debate was being broadcast on the school's website, and they were able to connect the laptop to the TV.

He frowned when he reached the page. Instead of a video box, there was a brief news story under the banner, "Debate Invitational CANCELED."

Stan's frown only deepened as he read the story. "Hey, Ken? Can you come here, man?"

Kenny came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel, "Yeah, what's up? You know I'm no good with the technical shit."

"No… but this might make more sense to you than it does to me." Stan gestured to the article which simply stated that at this time it was suspected that at least one member of the Dartmouth team had drugged the Harvard, Princeton, and Yale team members. There was a list of confirmed drugs that had Kenny whistling in appreciation.

"Let me put it this way, Stan. If either of your lightweights were hit with certain combos of that crap…" Kenny frowned, "I don't envy the hell they're going through right now."

Stan sighed, "Wouldn't they have called or sent a text, or something?"

"Look, man. Even in my brief phase of experimenting with crap, I wouldn't have touched some of that stuff, and I definitely wouldn't have combined most of it. If they're hung over from an unwilling trip on some of this shit…" Kenny shook his head, "Then you can't expect them to think straight for a bit. Especially since neither of them would have any tolerance at all."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Stan nodded. "So we're probably dealing with two miserable nerds when they get home?"

"I'd say so. Um… should I grab Cartman when he gets here and leave?" Cartman might have sincerely become friends with the two, but he could still be an insensitive jerk at times.

"Nah… I'd rather have support in filling Bebe in. And you can probably whip up something in the kitchen that'll make them both feel at least marginally better." Stan offered his friend a small smile.

"Support in telling me what? And why isn't the debate up? I showered at the gym so I wouldn't miss it." Bebe was frowning as she entered the living room, setting her bag down by the couch.

"Um… the debate's been canceled." Stan grimaced as Bebe pressed her lips together and gave him a look that said she knew there was more information. Quite frankly, he far preferred Bebe to pout and cry at bad news, just as he preferred Wendy to be calm and rational. He hated it when they switched, as it usually meant a deeper, scarier level of dealing.

Kenny rolled his eyes, "Whether they were hit or not, it seems that members of all the teams but Dartmouth were drugged. Rather significantly. If either of them are among the victims…" He shook his head, "I think if there were any hospitalization or worse, that would have been reported. But they're going to be pretty miserable. Possibly for a few days. Some of that stuff might send them into DTs."

Stan blinked. He hadn't even thought of that. "After just one use?"

"'Fraid so, man. I'm not saying it will. Just that it's possible."

Bebe sat down on the couch, heavily, and Stan completely understood how she felt. "She's going to be pissed. She never even drinks enough to get more than mildly tipsy. Wendy hates feeling out of control."

Stan nodded, "Kyle too… you've seen how he beats himself up if he lets his sugar drop and gets all crazy."

Reaching into her bag, Bebe pulled out her cell phone and sent a text to Wendy asking if she was ok.

A few, anxious, minutes later the response came. "Miserable. Death would be relief. Will be all right. Kyle too. On way home now. Love." She read it to the others, who groaned.

"Both of them then… hopefully no DTs though." Stan frowned. "Let them know we'll take care of them."

Bebe nodded, "On it."

Wendy had barely been able to stand being home. Stan and Bebe had shown up, full of love and concern, to pick them up from the van. Stan had grabbed both their bags, while Bebe had made sure they were both ok and gotten them into the car—Kyle in the front since Stan was driving, and Wendy in the back with her. As Wendy let her girlfriend hold her, she found herself envying Kyle.

Now she sat on the couch, staring at the carpet, not able to look up. Kyle was sitting beside her, his hands balled into fists on his lap, and she knew that he felt as dejected as she did. They had told them everything, not being able to deal with keeping it a secret, not able to lie to the ones they loved. They had not even waited for Kenny and Cartman to leave.

Stan had sat down heavily in the recliner, and what Wendy had noticed when she had looked at him was a look of confusion and disbelief. Bebe was harder to read. She had shaken her head, but otherwise frozen where she stood. Kenny had moved to her, gently hugging her and making Wendy hate herself even more for the fact that someone had to comfort Bebe over something she had done, whether it was her fault or not.

It was Cartman who broke the tableau. He had been leaning against the wall, an eyebrow raised. Shoving off the wall he shook his head, "No, damnit. Kyle, Wendy, I want names. Who did this?"

Wendy looked up blinking at him. He was still big, though now it was mostly intimidating muscle rather than fat. The decent guy that she had always believed he hid under his rather cruel exterior had come to the fore years ago, and she actually considered him a friend. Though she still pretended that she had never kissed him.

"We don't know. They're still investigating. Why?" Her voice was soft, and even to herself she sounded broken.

Cartman rolled his eyes, "Because no one does this to you and gets away with it. Only I get to screw with you, Hippie. Or you, Jew. And even then… this is too far."

Wendy blinked some more, confused, but then her head was still rather foggy, so she supposed that was to be expected.

What was not expected was the faint giggle, though slightly hysterical in nature, that came from Bebe. Despite her better judgment Wendy turned her head to look at her, she feared, now ex. Bebe offered her a small smile, causing Wendy to blink again and smile tentatively at the woman she loved.

Kenny lead Bebe to a chair, got her to sit down, and then spoke. "All right, look. This sucks, but I told you, the crap they were on… quite frankly, it's entirely possible they actually thought they were with you instead of each other. Their brains were not functioning fully. Hell, I doubt they are now, or they would've totally sent the two of us home before dropping this bomb." The look he turned on the two of them said that had better been true, and after blinking some more, Wendy blushed and buried her face in her hands.

"I think we get that, Kenny." Wendy heard Stan's voice, "And I don't know about Bebe, but as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to forgive. Doesn't mean that this isn't a shock or painful, or that I don't need time to process."

She looked up at Stan, even as Kyle broke into a restrained grin. "Thank you."

Stan rolled his eyes, "I'm not happy, but… what I'm going to do? Be pissed at you for something that was not your fault? I love you, and I'm going to assume that if you were clear headed, you'd realize that you never should have questioned that."

Wendy blinked some more, "You're not mad?"

A snort came from Bebe, and Wendy turned to see her girlfriend rolling her eyes. "Don't be silly. I believe I speak for both of us when I say that I have never been this pissed before. Hell, I didn't know it was possible to be this pissed. But at you? No. God, you're an idiot when you're hung over."

"Oh…" Well, that would make a lot of sense. Wendy knew full well her brain was slow right now.

Bebe smirked and turned her attention to Cartman for a moment, "Hey, you know, I agree with you. Should the authorities not punish the idiots responsible for this… for essentially raping our lovers, do you know how I could get in touch with the Coon?"

"Yeah, he has the au-thor-i-tae to see that they're taken care of. Not to worry, Beebes."

Wendy frowned. The Coon? Did Cartman still do that?

Kenny laughed a bit, "All right, glad we're able to muster some laughter, and everyone's going to be ok." He picked up the drinks he'd set on the dining room table when, immediately upon entering the house, Kyle had announced that they needed to talk. "You're hung over because you're dehydrated. Probably also still kind of high. So, we're starting with these. Protein shakes. And yes, Wendy, yours is soy and egg substitute. The protein value should still be high enough to help." He handed the two their respective drinks, avoiding making any jokes about getting them backwards.

He then turned to Stan and Bebe. "After they finish these, get them to bed. Keep water by the beds for them. If they're awake, I want them drinking water. Sleep will help their bodies process and break down more of whatever the hell is in their systems." The two nodded and Kenny turned back to the slightly less emotionally miserable pair on the couch, "In a couple of hours, I'll be making dinner. You will eat it. I don't care if you don't think you can hold it down, you will. It will help your bodies metabolize. Why aren't you drinking? Drink!"

Wendy blinked, vaguely registering just how much of that she'd been doing, she obediently raised the glass ther lips and took a drink. It was pretty hideous in taste, though Kenny had somehow made the concoction bearable. The stern look on Kenny's face kept her from doing anything other than draining it.

Nodding in satisfaction, Kenny took her glass and then Kyle's. "Cartman, get Wendy. I don't think Bebe can carry her, and I doubt either of them can make it up the steps on their own." He looked over to Stan, "I'll help you with Kyle."

Wendy found herself about to protest when Bebe said, "Shut it, love. Cartman, please?"

Sighing, Wendy closed her mouth and allowed Cartman to carry her up the stairs, Bebe going ahead of him. "Lay her in the bed. Thanks, hun."

"No problem. Seriously, if they let these assholes off, let me know. I think I still know how to contact the Coon. And quite frankly, Mysterion needs to be focusing on other things right now." Cartman smiled a bit sadly as he left the room, and Wendy felt like she should have been able to understand that joke. "Hippie, I'm sorry. Beebes, you need us for anything, call. I'll go get that water for you."

"Thanks, hun." Bebe nodded to him and then turned her attention back to her girlfriend. "Wendy, listen. I'm really not mad at you, ok? I know your brain is all fuzzy right now, but I'm not. I know this wasn't your fault. So just let me take care of you, ok?"

Wendy nodded, and Bebe smiled a bit, though there was still pain in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bebe. So sorry."

"Shhh… you didn't do anything wrong. I love you."

Bebe came down the stairs, her fists balled at her sides. Now that Wendy was sleeping, she felt all the anger she'd been holding back. She stopped at the bottom of the steps, her jaw clenching as she let out an almost silent cry of frustration.

"You should get out for a bit."

Opening her eyes, she saw Stan sitting on the couch, his head his hands, not even looking up at her.

"Right... because you look so much better than I feel. And we really should leave them alone here." She sighed as she moved over and sat beside him.

Stan still did not look up, but he nodded. "Yeah. I know. I just... this really sucks, you know."

"Yeah, I do. Um... are you really not mad at them... not even a little bit?" Bebe bit her lip. She felt guilty for having any anger at all towards Wendy, but there was some. Somehow, the other woman should have known what was happening, should have made it stopped. Or perhaps she should have not gone to the party at all, just stayed in the hotel room preparing for the debate. Considering that Wendy sometimes complained about going to parties or opted out of them to study, she was kind of pissed that Wendy even went to the gathering in the first place. Yet, she knew that wasn't fair.

"I don't want to be." He sighed again and looked over at her. "It's funny, because I think I'm mad at both of them. I'm mad that the girl who would never put out for me, and then dumped me because she's a lesbian, somehow managed to have sex with my boyfriend. And I'm pissed that my boyfriend, who actually used to dislike Wendy because of the Wendy-Stan rollercoaster, somehow had sex with, not just a girl, but with Wendy. And then I'm pissed at myself for being mad at them, and I'm mad at Kenny for making me be rational, because that's just not fair!"

Bebe snorted, "I feel bad admitting this, but that makes me feel better."

"Yeah... so... we take care of them. Nurse them through any detox. And by the time they're human again, so are we?"

"Sounds like a plan." She gently squeezed his shoulder, "And we take care of each other in the meantime."

Shaking his head, Stan smirked, "Don't tempt me Bebe. I don't think that's how you meant it, but making the playing board a bit even is..."

"Tempting... so perhaps one of us should get out of the house. I'll take first watch. You go blow off some steam."

Stan stood, with a nod, "Yeah. Thanks."