The Forsaken

By: Serpentsrose

Disclaimer: everything besides the idea for this story and their actions belong to Tray Parker and Matt Stone. And those oh so good folks at Comedy Central. I make nothing off these besides warm fuzzy feelings and an ego boost. Which I'm sure they can knock down without a law suit. Lets not waste the time and money okay?

A/N: Okay here is another one. Coming to you due to my anthropology class. Damn well if nothing inspires me but a morning in anthropology. Which is funny since I hate that class. Well enjoy and let me know what you think. And let me know of any major errors anywhere even in my authors note. It is appreciated and will be corrected as soon as I long back on. Thanks again. Bai~

Chapter 1: The Nightmare

*Dream*

Stan was running, his breath was coming in broken, painful gasps. He was pushing, shoving, being pushed and shoved. All around him was chaos, shouts and jeers mixed in with cries of horror and disbelief. He didn't know where he was going all he knew was that he had to get to the front of the crowd. Nothing else mattered. He breaks his way through, and falls to his knees gathering a broken figure into his arms. The blood from the ground soaking through the material of his pants, as the last of it soaks into his hands never to be free from its taint. It crashed over him in such a force it knocked his breath away. He had failed. He was to late. He was dead…

*Dream end*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stan shots out of bed, a silent scream ripping out of his throat as he struggled to regain his breath. His heart hammering in the silent's of the South Park winter. He runs a shakily hand through his hair as he glances in the direction of his alarm clock. With a disgusted snort he falls back into his bed, reaching to his bedside table his fingers curl around his phone, all the while hitting the familiar speed-dial number.

Sliding out of bed as the phone rang he walks to his bedroom window watching as the snow gently fell to the ground. The phone clicks and a tired voice comes onto the other line. "Hey, dude."

Stan swallows, "Kyle?" he leans against the window frame his back to the snow falling outside.

"Yeah." Kyle replies quietly, half awake.

"Dude, I can't sleep." Stan runs his hand through his hair again in a frustrated gesture that he could never seem to get rid of.

"Another nightmare." Kyle asks.

Stan doesn't know why he asks. It wasn't like he didn't already know the answer, but that was just Kyle always had to be sure, never assume. "Yeah."

"Dude, that's the third night this week."

" I know." Stan felt tired and it reflected in his voice. He had been over this, last night and the night before. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't have Kyle to talk it over with. The dreams had started about a month ago, and he was sure they would of driven him insane. Stan huffs, they still might.

"Was it the same?" Kyle's voice was clear, was wide wake now and Stan knew their was no going back to sleep for either of them.

"Yeah, I just …I just felt so helpless, yeah know?" Stan didn't even have to see Kyle to know he was nodding, it was just a super best friend thing. You knew that they were doing without even looking.

There was rustling on the other line as Kyle got out of bed and headed to his computer. Stan could hear the hum and clicks from it coming to life beneath the Jewish boy's fingers. "Was there anything different?" Kyle asks this question every night Stan calls about this nightmare and most of the time there was nothing different. Tonight there was.

"I could feel the blood on my hands." Stan chocks up, leaning heavier against the window frame for support, his knees getting weak under him.

"Stan?" Kyle sounded concerned, Stan could tell he had stood up, by the creak of the old office chair. " Do you need me to come over?"

Stan glances around his room, to be honest with himself he wanted nothing more then to have Kyle to come over, but, he knew better Kyle was still grounded from the last time he had sunk out. If Shelia caught him again no matter what the reason, Stan won't be surprised if she put bars on his window. "No…dude, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Kyle asks, Stan closes his eyes hating himself, he was no were close to fine. Fuck, he wasn't in the same zip code. Pinching his nose in frustration he fights with himself. "Do.. Do you think I can come over there?"

Kyle sounds surprised for a second, but recovers quickly. "Yeah, no problem. I'll just go unlock the back door right now. You know which steps are the bad ones right?"

"Yeah, third one from the top, right." Stan says reaching over grabing his jacket and hat sliding them in to place. He would grab his shoes in the living room on the way out. There was no time to grab a change of clothes and it wasn't like Kyle hadn't seen him in worse.

"Glad you remember. See you soon."

Kyle was just about to hang up when Stan interrupted. "Hey dude?"

"Yeah"

"Thanks."

Stan could hear Kyle's smile as he replies. " Hey no problem you'd do it from me. Just be careful okay. The snow is bound to have left some black ice on the side walk. I would hate to have to come and find out if you hurt yourself."

Stan laughs and gives a quick goodbye, before pocketing the phone and headed downstairs to the living room grabbing his shoes. Before he leaves he washes his hands in the kitchen sink, giving up after a while, he heads outside in the direction of Kyle's house. Hopefully his hands would feel clean before he got there. He would hate to touch Kyle with blood on his hands.