Title: Infallible
Author: Daisy
Fandom: South Park
Setting: High school ages, more around 18, getting ready to graduate high school
Pairing: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Damien/Phillip 'Pip' Pirrup, Token Black/Clyde Donnovan, Kenny McKormick/Leopald 'Butters' Stotch, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Christophe (The Mole)/Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman/Bebe Stevens
Genre: Romance/Horror/Hurt/Comfort/Adventure
Rating: M
Chapters: 1/12
Word Count: 1696
Type of Work: Chapter Story
Status: Incomplete
Warnings: Major Character Death, Gay/Yaoi/Slash, Straight/Het, Mentions of Lesbianism, Possible OOC, Satan-worship, Sex, Kink, Drug Use, Tobacco Use, Alcohol Use, Underaged Alcohol Consumption, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mental Trauma, Mental Illness, Jealousy, Deceit, Lying, Time Skips, Time Warps, Anal Sex, Straight Jackets - Sexual, Caffiene Abuse, Mentions of Rape and Child Molestation, Mentions of Incest
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any characters involved. I do, however, own this story and what happens through it.
Summary: No matter what happens, Craig will see to it that Tweek is completely infallible, always found to be innocent. Even if he has to enlist Damien's help in such a venture.
AN: So... This story is kind of a vent work for me. A lot of things happened to make me feel a bit like Tweek recently, so I'm kind of abusing the poor thing for my own enjoyment. I hope this story takes off. Most chapter titles will probably come from my go-to band OK Go.
Chapter One: 1,000 Miles An Hour ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"What have I d-done..?" Quivering, standing among the broken mess that had once been his spotless home, Tweak Tweek broke down into a pool of tears and oversized clothing. Blonde hair sticking in every direction, blood splattered here and there and sticking in the strands, he wiped his coated hands through his hair to slick it down while he tried to think. He couldn't look down, wouldn't look down, stumbling in the dark confines of his parents' home, tripping over limbs and I'm not looking, they aren't there finally managed to make his way to the home phone.
The number nearly flowed from his fingers, the one he'd called a million, nay, a billion jillion times before, and he had the earpiece up beside his ear in a moment's notice. When the dial tone didn't even come up, he whined and dropped the phone where he held it, the thing collapsing from the table and taking it's tethered base with it. The plastic crack as it hit the floor seemed to dissipate any other noises the house might make, and he was suddenly surrounded by darkness and silence.
Only bad things come from darkness and silence. His mind promised, urging him to quickly run for his bedroom before 'they' could get him.
Lanky, awkward body stumbling up the steps, pushed to keep going even with a skinned knee, he ran from invisible forces that threatened his life, all until he got to his bedroom. His sanctuary from just about everything… And there, in the middle of this sanctuary, lit by the light of the moon outside the window, lay his cell phone, nice and charged and ready for use.
This time, the number '1' was selected, then 'talk', and he could hear Craig's ringback tone playing almost immediately. It pulsed a sort of calm, soothing message through him, despite it's gruff lyrics, and he seemed able to settle himself onto the bottom bunk of his double-layered bed, nervously bunching the blankets around his knee to try and keep his hand busy.
A cranky grunt was the first thing to be heard from Craig Tucker that morning, his middle fingers firing out of habit, bleary eyes blinking awake at the sound of 'Everything is Alright' by Motion City Soundtrack playing somewhere in his bedsheets. Glancing to the glaring red numbers on his dresser, he gave a mighty groan of annoyance at the time; 3:48 am, exactly. Rubbing a hand through his dark hair, then the other over his numb face, he sat up slowly and languidly stretched his strong, long limbs before starting the search for his phone. It took two sets of rings for him to finally answer, his voice gruff from sleep, but nevertheless calming to the blonde on the phone.
"Mmh... 'lo?" He yawned wide afterward, the sound booming in the silence of his dark bedroom, eyelids falling shut as he forced himself to stay sitting up. If Tweek was calling, it had to be important.
"Cr-Craaaaaaaaaig…" The whimper sounded awfully frightened, quiet, as though he feared being heard. Currently, every little noise made him jump and shriek, his body alight with fear the likes of which he'd never felt before. "Cr-Craig- Help… H-helllp me… Th-they're… They're dead… I… Craig… Please.. I d-don't… I don't… Craig… Help…" He sounded so desperate as he pleaded with the other, "Please…"
That certainly had his attention, the eighteen year old already out of bed and searching the dirty floor for his pants, phone jammed in the crook of his shoulder and pressed tight there by his ear.
"What? Tweek, who's dead? You're not making any sense..." Still, this was a situation he'd have to handle, he knew that. Tweek was likely in a very bad place at the moment, he wouldn't call if he could self-medicate this episode away. "Don't move, babe, I'll be over in a bit. I want you to stay safe, I'll take care of this."
Nodding slightly, before panicking, realizing Craig couldn't see him, he sobbed and responded, "O-okay." Body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, his eyes slid to his open closet door and he gave a final shriek as the call was ended.
Craig will help... Craig is good, remember? A voice started in his head as he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of limbs and fear.
"I know Cr-Craig is good..." He whispered softly, as if to himself.
"Is he?" Came a sinister voice from the closet, and those coffee-colored eyes widened in fear. A demon was watching him, it had to be a demon, with red eyes, wearing his skin. It pointed a gnarled, bony finger at him and grinned, "Will he save you from this? He doesn't know what you're capable of."
"Craaaaaig!" Was the simple response, a loud sob as tears made tracks down his cheeks, dripping pink onto his nightshirt, as he smeared the red thinner over his cheeks.
Meanwhile, Craig shoved on his coat as he made his way out the door, shoes only half on as he jogged from his home to his lover's parents' house. Shit, Tweek, what happened? I hope you're just seeing things...
As he finally stopped before the Tweak household, he panted a little, slipping his wallet from his pocket and pulling out the key hidden in his billfold. Unlocking the door proved to be one of the easiest things he'd ever regretted in his life.
A rich, coppery scent was the first to crawl up his nose, and his stomach flipped, turned and fell into his feet when he recognized it. Blood. Immediately he was on the defensive, which, to Craig Tucker, meant offense. Grabbing Mr. Tweak's walking stick from beside the door, careful to send his middle finger around the house just in case, he closed the door carefully. Stalking the dark house, he managed to find the breaker box and flipped everything back on. With light shining brightly, dumbly as though nothing bad had happened, he saw the true mess just before the stairs.
Mr. and Mrs. Tweak's bodies lay in a heap of dismembered limbs and their faces were frozen with horrified expressions. Blinking a little in surprise, he noted blood smeared up the stairs and decided to follow it, holding the thick stick in his hand as though he were going to kill someone with it. Once he hit the top of the stairs, however, his worst fear was realized; the blood trailed right into Tweek's room. Nearing the door proved an interesting feat, however, as he could hear a voice inside.
"N-no... Don't... He's got n-no-nothing to do with it! H-he's so good to me... Craig is the b-best." That was Tweek, for sure...
"But what if he's like the others? Only wants you for what you do for him?" Came a slyer voice, though it was still recognizable; Tweek was talking to himself. The only thing he could think of as Tweek began to answer himself was to knock on the door, so he did.
Upon entering, he caught those large mocha eyes full of tears and stood there silently, a forboding and protective wall for the blonde. Clamboring across the floor and into his lover's arms, the smaller male gave a soft sigh of contentment, breathing deeply the rich aroma of smoke, cologne, and a distinct bitter odor that rang in his head only as 'Craig'. Almost immediately he seemed to relax, but Craig was still a little unnerved.
"What happened here, Tweekers?" He whispered softly into red and yellow hair, gently petting it and placing a kiss on top of the weaker's head.
"U-uh..." Glancing down, then up, and twitching bodily, Tweek finally sighed, "I... H-he killed them." Pointing to his mirror, to the other side of him that only he could see, it was obvious this wasn't going to go for Craig like he'd like.
"Alright... C'mon, let's go get you taken care of." As he hefted the slighter male into his arms like it was nothing, his mind raced as to how they were going to take care of this particular problem. Tweek had never been so bold before, and the happy blonde in his arms could hardly be the real killer that had done all of that... Right? After all, he was usually so against violence... So why now? Something pretty serious must have happened to make him have such a huge break...
Concern written in his brow, the taller male carried his cargo down the stairs, stepping over the massacre and cradling the other away from it, heading for the kitchen. Gently coaxing the blonde into the dining chair, he started up the coffee machine and decided to make some decaf, slipping two pills into the bottom of the glass that would make the blonde sleep for a while. He'd get him cleaned up and taken care of soon, it wouldn't be hard. What would be the most challenging would be trying to figure out how to take care of this house, and the dead bodies, the missing people... What could he do?
When the drink was finally ready, he made a quick cup for the smaller and set about delivery; it was gone in a flash, and another cup requested.
"I lo-lo-love you, Cra-Craig." The sweet voice was more than enough to have the cold male's heart warmed, and he gently kissed the shaking male's forehead before continuing on his routine.
"Love you, too, Tweekers." It was surprising how much emotion was in his voice as he spoke, and he blushed slightly as he walked the kitchen, searching for snacks.
It was four and a half cups later that the blonde yawned and stretched, blinking slowly and giving a few more yawns he couldn't seem to help. It was obvious he was tired, so he was escorted to the couch. As soon as his head hit the throw pillow, the warm blanket thrown over him, he was out like a light. That gave Craig all the time he needed to take care of everything and transport Tweek home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: