The sun had risen once again over the little town of South Park, nestled away in the mountains of Colorado. It was a quiet Sunday morning in the middle of May, when the snow was just beginning to melt and the grass was just beginning to grow back. Stan Marsh sat in the driver's seat of his rental car, confidently driving down a mountain road that Wendy insisted was incorrect.

"I have the map right in front of me," she said, "and I'm telling you, we're going the wrong way."

"And I'm telling you, I know where to go," Stan retorted. "I lived here for the first fourteen and a half years of my life."

"Yeah? Did you? Well it's also been nearly fourteen years since you were last here. Not to mention, your sense of direction is completely -"

"Accurate?" Stan interrupted, pointing out the little wooden sign signifying the beginning of the boundaries of South Park. It was wet from the melting snow and new letters were freshly painted over the old and faded ones, but it still looked just as it always had. Wendy harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest.

The road twisted and curved just the way Stan remembered it to until it finally spat them out between a few trees into the quiet mountain town of South Park. The car slowly rolled to a stop at the entrance while Stan read a second sign. It was updated - what used to be a dinky board nailed to a post was now a proper welcome sign, painted red and brown. Wendy nudged Stan to keep driving and he snapped out of it, gently easing the car into motion again.

The road brought them into South Park from the east; Stark's Pond rolled up on their left, the ice on the top cracked and melted. They drove past the new South Park Elementary and Intermediate, the old police station, and City Hall. Stan decided on taking the long way, looping through downtown to see all the old businesses. Wendy didn't say anything, letting him take in the town they'd up and left so many years ago. To Stan, South Park looked just the way he'd left it - even most of the storefronts were intact, though some were closed for renovations. The only things that seemed to change were the people.

Stan and Wendy's extended drive eventually took them around the loop through residential South Park, where Stan let his memory guide him to the driveway of the house he grew up in. He pulled in confidently, remembering from the first time his dad let him park the car that the edge of the garage was closer than it looked. Wendy sighed and unbuckled, groaning as she pulled herself out of the car.

"God, I'm glad to be out of there," she remarked, leaning forward to stretch her lower back before padding over to the hatchback and waiting for Stan to open it. "We couldn't have gotten anything a little bigger?"

"We could have, actually," Stan answered, and hit the trunk button inside of the front door, "but someone didn't want to spend the money. In fact, I remember you being particularly unhappy about the money we spent renting a hatchback in the first place."

Wendy grumbled instead of answering, proved wrong for the second time in a short span, and pulled her bags for the week out of the back of the car and up to the front of the house. She knocked on the door without waiting for Stan, and after a few minutes and some scuffling, Sharon opened up with a warm smile. She hadn't aged well - her divorce coupled with the distance of her children made her appear beyond her years - but her eyes were still kind, and her voice was soft when she spoke to invite Wendy in. Stan followed a few minutes after, plopping his bags down inside the door to give his mother a hug. Between his growing and her shrinking, he was nearly a foot taller than her, but her hugs were still soft and inviting. A soft meow broke them apart and Stan looked down to where Wendy was kneeling, petting a tabby cat.

"Really, ma? A cat?" Stan asked, pulling away from his mother and smiling. She batted his shoulder.

"Yes, Stanley, a cat. Her name is Whiskers. Are you really judging me for having a little company around after my whole family uproots without me?" The comment wasn't meant to sting, but it kind of did, and Stan winced. Sharon's face softened when she realized her mistake, and she reached a hand out to touch her son's arm.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get unpacked," she suggested. "Settle in and then we can talk."

Stan nodded and gave his mother one more hug. Then, with the help of his girlfriend and his memory, he hauled his bags upstairs and to his childhood bedroom. Even the door looked no different than the day he'd left it, and as he walked inside he realized that the room was untouched. He dumped his things just inside the entrance and stepped into what felt like a portal to another time. Wendy watched him look around, making her way to sit down on his bed. It was strange for her too, and she contemplated as Stan took his time moving around the room and digging into old keepsakes - pictures, toys, and even bits and pieces of the heavy costumes he wore during his roleplaying days. Suddenly, he turned to her with a little wooden sword in hand, a half-smile kind of hanging on his face.

"Holy shit, remember this?" he asked, holding up the poorly-made construct. It was just two pieces of plywood cut into the vague shape of a sword and tied together with string. Wendy saw it and laughed.

"No, I don't," she replied. "I never played that silly stick game with you guys. I was too busy painting my nails and playing an online trivia game that promised to give rice to hungry children if you guessed the answers right." Stan snickered, a genuine sound, and opened his mouth to say something in reply, then slowly closed it. His face softened as he studied the relic of his childhood.

"It was the most fun I think I've ever had," he said suddenly, and the way he said it made Wendy frown.

"Stan," she began, "if this makes you uncomfortable, we can stay in a hotel -"

"No, no, it's fine," Stan interrupted, gently placing the toy back into the box he'd found it in. "I had to come back and face the music sometime. Besides, how much could our quiet little mountain town have really changed?" Wendy clicked her tongue.

"A lot. You know you can't pretend that everything is going to be the same as it was when we were fourteen." Stan furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know," he said curtly, and Wendy was about to start an argument with him when Sharon called for the two from downstairs.

"We're finishing this," Wendy sighed, hauling herself up from the bed and pushing past Stan out the door. He sighed as he followed her, wishing they could just go one week without some stupid argument over nothing. Sharon greeted them downstairs.

"All settled in?" she asked from the couch, her cat purring as it slalomed between her ankles. Stan nodded. He was about to ask her what she needed when she spoke again.

"Now," she began, "I know my son, and I know he was just up there rifling through his closet so he could look at his old mementos." Stan paled just a little, wondering when he became so predictable. Sharon smiled. "I just thought that he might want to go see some of his real friends instead of moping around remembering them."

"My old friends are still in South Park?" Stan asked in reply, face changing to one of genuine surprise. Even Wendy looked a little shocked.

"It is a reunion after all," Sharon answered, "but some just plain stayed, too. The youngest McCormick boy works at the new mechanic on the edge of town. I just had my car repaired there a few weeks ago. That's as good a place as any to start reconciling, don't you think?"

"What about Kyle?"

The question came out of Stan's mouth before he could stop it, and he immediately felt a little flush. It had been fourteen years, and Kyle had been his best friend of all time, so the question was totally justified and everything, but Stan still felt a little embarrassed that Kyle was the instant option in his mind. Sharon shook her head.

"His whole family up and left town in different directions after he graduated," she recounted, much to Stan's chagrin. "But, I think some of your old friends still keep in touch."

Stan was, truthfully, halfway done with putting his shoes on before the name "McCormick" was even out of his mother's mouth, but now he was almost itching to get out the door. The chance of seeing Kyle again made him incredibly nervous, but he had to come back sometime. There hadn't been a night in fourteen years that he hadn't sat at the kitchen table in his New York apartment, planning out his apology. He didn't expect to take so long to come home, but on the bright side, he had one hell of a speech concocted in his head. He looked at Wendy, his eyes begging her to get ready to leave or let him go without her. She gave him a look between knowing and warning.

"Go ahead," she finally said, turning away from him with a bored frown draped lazily on her mouth. "I'm going to see if I can find Bebe Stevens in your mom's phonebook." Stan quickly kissed the side of her head and muttered a "thank you" before practically bursting out the door and running to the car. He wasn't sure why he was so gung-ho - he knew better than to expect his old friends to want to talk to him, or even to remember him. He knew better than to expect that they hadn't changed or matured at all. Yet, as he turned the key in the ignition and felt the uncomfortable hatchback roar to life underneath him, something told him that of all people to come back to, Kenny McCormick wouldn't turn him down.