Years had passed since Pip's encounter with the Antichrist. He had grown up to be a relatively normal man, despite his obsessive fears of Hell and desperateness to avoid it. He had grown up as an anti-social, avoiding anyone that might taint his soul or corrupt him. He spent his time either at school, studying hard, or at the church, praying that god would protect him from the one place he feared most. Hell.
He became somewhat of an outsider, he didn't bother with anyone else if he didn't have too and he barely spoke to anyone. Since he ignored everyone, they backed off him completely and treated him like an outcast. He had done that to himself, he knew, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. It was all the better that he ignored the sinful people of South Park, he thought it would save his own soul from the eternal inferno of Hell.
It was clear to Pip, and everyone that knew him well enough, that the whole incident with Damien had scarred him for life. Not just mentally, but physically as well. He had a few scars and burns on random parts of his body, but there was one right above his hip that really worried Pip. It was a circle of three sixes, all hooked together in the middle. He shuttered every time his fingers brushed across it. Somehow, after all these years, it still burned to the touch. But other then the painful memory it carried, Pip paid it no mind.
Little does he know that that little mark means so much more.
Deep in the fiery abyss of Hell, in the great lair of the dark one himself, Damien sat behind his desk in his private study. He had his intertwined fingers held up under his nose and his elbows resting on the hard wood desk as he watched his marked beloved from his crystal ball. He watched as Pip changed into his sleeping clothes and got into bed. The lights in Pip's room were switched off, making it harder for Damien to see him cuddled up in the blankets.
Damien moaned and sat back in his large leather chair, his eyes never once leaving the crystal ball. He had been watching Pip on and off for a while now. When he wasn't busy torturing the damned or up on earth to cause trouble for the mortals, he liked to sit back and watch his beloved Pip. From the moment Damien had lit him up in that enchanted fire, Pip was marked as his, though he made it seem as though he was just trying to gain acceptance.
As he had told Pip, he didn't need acceptance, nor did he want it. It was all part of his elaborate scheme to make the blond his. He knew since he had first laid eyes on Pip that he was meant to be his, and he would be damned if he let him go. When he had set him on fire that time, he had meant to kill him. He was now glad that Pip had survived that, for if he had died then, his soul would never age past eight. Damien would have found it weird to be fucking an eight year old for all eternity. He'd feel like a pedophile.
Instead, Damien let Pip grow up. He was glad he did to, Pip had grown up to be a very cute young man. Most people would have thought him to be a girl or at least a transvestite when they saw how feminine he was. People have often judged or ridiculed him for his appearance, Damien seemed to be the only one to see past his girly looks to see him as a person. He saw how pure and innocent was, which only motivated him more to take Pip and make him his.
Now that Pip had reached his twentieth year, Damien felt that he was ready and that it was time to take him. Damien grinned into his hands, his sharp canines catching the light of the glowing crystal ball and sparkled. Through his grin, his slowly whispered to himself, "Show time!" He could see through the ball that his words had reached Pip's ears up on earth, startling him awake. Damien only laughed as he watched Pip frantically look around the room for the source of the voice.