Hi there! First, thanks to those of you who read and reviewed the first installment. I am excited to continue this story and hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. This chapter's a bit more somber than the first, but hang in there—I'm going to try to fold in some more comedic stuff as I go.

Happy readings!

TEPR

"Fucking nice, dude!" I felt a hand on my back and turned, startled. It was Kenny. "I've never seen anyone finish their first objective so quickly. Satan might have to put you up on the wall!"

After a moment, the shock of my friend's sudden appearance at my side began to wane, mixing with my newfound excitement at apparently having completed Objective 1.

"Let's see it," he said, fishing my karmambulator out of my jacket pocket. He took a drag on the cigarette he seemed to have magicked from nowhere as he read the display. He stared seriously for a moment and then broke into a grin. "There we go!"

He handed it back to me after the display updated from 0% to 3%. To my surprise, my immediate response was fury.

"Seriously?! I was sent on that wild goose chase, and I'm only 3% of the way to Heaven? What the fuck?!"

My friend stared at me for a moment before beginning to cackle. "Oh my god, Kyle, you're too much." He continued to laugh before picking up on the fact that I was not amused. "Oh, you're serious?"

"Well… yeah! Do you have any idea how long of a night I've had?!"

"Of course, I do," he replied, now sipping from a flask. "I've been watching you since your Afterlife Orientation. By the way, I can't believe you didn't sneak a peek at Craig under the sheets earlier. I did, and I must say—I was not impressed."

"Gah!" I tackled him to the ground. "Kenny McCormick, tell me what the hell is going on, right now!" I realized what I had done and jumped back, extending my hand to help him up. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, dude. I don't what came over me. That was… weird."

Kenny took another drag and looked me in the eyes. "Death does strange things to a man, Kyle. But you're going to get used to it. In fact, that's why I'm here."

He grabbed my shoulders and continued. "The newly arrived in Hell are assigned a Watcher to keep track of them and guide them if they wander astray. Obviously, when I saw you, I immediately volunteered myself to be your Watcher. I know you're going to do great in the afterlife, buddy. There are some things you have to understand, though: we don't all move at the same pace. Now, I don't know why you only got 3% for saving Tweek's life, but I can tell you—"

"Wait, what?!" I jumped back, interrupting him. "What do you mean I saved Tweek's life?"

He grinned. "You did."

"But how do you know that? There's no way that guy would have killed him."

Kenny waved dismissively. "I saw it in my mind's eye. Here." He grabbed my hand, and closed my eyelids with his fingers. "Don't open them."

I heard him take a deep breath, and suddenly—we are there again. I see Tweek, just like he was when I walked into the warehouse and found him. He is crying, his shoulders trembling, his head buried in his knees as he sobs.

"Here we are," Kenny says. "If this were what happened, in 30 seconds you would walk through that door, and… well, you were there. You know how it ends. But it's not going to happen that way this time. Now we're going to see what would have happened if you hadn't arrived."

We continue to watch Tweek, shaking as he sits there on the ground of his father's stock room and makeshift office. Suddenly, I feel an electric chill roll down my spine, and I know that that is the moment I had entered \ the room previously. But this time that does not happen. Instead, I see Tweek take a deep breath and stand, retrieving the letter—Ah, yes! The letter!—and turning it over in his hand before looking at it and kissing it gently, slipping it back into his pocket after. He walks over to the desk in the corner, wipes a tear from his eye, and looks into the mirror on the wall one last time. He retrieves a key from his pocket and unlocks the top drawer of the desk, from which he retrieves a small pistol. He fumbles looking for the bullets, which I somehow know are in the second drawer on the right. He finally finds them and, with precision and grace, places the barrel into his mouth and ends himself.

Suddenly I am back outside, where Kenny had initially spooked me. I take a deep breath, jarred back to reality and the cold. Kenny is gone.

"Dude, are you still here?" I don't hear anything and take a couple of steps, looking around. "Come on, don't hide! I know you're still spying on me." I can detect no sign of my Watcher. I sigh, knowing that he is gone, or at least invisible to me once again.

I close my eyes and will myself into Tweek's bedroom. I appear there with him, and I know that I am an unknown presence to the other boy, who surfs the internet on his laptop leisurely. He is still a bit roughed up and probably sore, but I can tell that he feels better, confident that he has made the right decision. I don't stay long enough to watch him turn in, but I can see it in my mind, and I know that he will have the best night's sleep since the day he received the awful news.

Perhaps the most frustrating about death so far is that I seem to have no control over who can see me and who cannot. Granted, the only living person who has seen me so far has been Tweek, so maybe I am only seen by those who fit into my current objective. But then what's the deal with Craig? I still don't know why I appeared in his bedroom and why he couldn't see me, and I don't think Kenny is going to be of much help as I try to figure all of this out.

On top of that, I am annoyed that I cannot make myself known to Ike, that I cannot reason with him, that I cannot scold him for making bad decisions. Seeing my little brother hanging out with the goth kids the other day was bad enough, but I couldn't bear to watch him try his first cigarette. He's eleven years old, for fuck's sake. He can't smoke! It's just not right. I want to help my brother. He needs me, and I can't be there for him. That's the worst part so far.

I want to get my last 97% helping Ike, but I know it's not going to work like that. I'm not sure why I know that, nor do I know how or if he will be helped out of his funk, but I know that I will not be his savior. I hate it, but that's how it will be. I can't put my finger on who's next, but I can feel that my next objective will come soon.

As I float through the empty streets in the midnight hour, I can't help but think of Tweek. I want to hold onto the memory. I don't want to lose it like I did the vision of Craig's death. I close my eyes and focus intently. I take myself back to the moment.

I had been compelled to bust down the door of the storage room of Tweek Bros. Coffee, but I found I did not have to, as the door opened for me without a problem, despite the fact that it was locked from the inside. Naturally, Tweek was confused and frightened upon seeing his dead classmate appear to him in the room, looking no different than I had the last time he had seen me, more than a week prior, at Token's house party—alive and wasted.

"What the fuck, man?! Is this some kind of joke?" the blonde had stammered, backing away in terror.

I remembered closing my eyes and filling the room with a calming spirit that I hadn't previously realized I possessed. As I did, Tweek had immediately calmed down, suddenly understanding, inexplicably, how it was that I was there with him in that moment.

"You have to be strong right now." Those clichéd words left my mouth without my even considering them. I could explain them no more easily than I could the great hug in which I had then wrapped Tweek up, shielding him from the darkness that was descending.

It was in the next moment that the meth head had busted through the locked door through which I had so effortlessly passed.

"Where the fuck's my fix, asshole?" he had growled, clearly fucked up. Though I wanted to intervene, I could not. I could only watch as he gave Tweek two hard blows to the stomach and scratched the boy's face with a gnarled fingernail before spitting on him and leaving.

Upon brushing himself off after the scuffle, Tweek had explained to me the long version of the story, which included the fact that his best friend Craig, who possessed the preternatural business savvy that Tweek so obviously lacked, had helped him to partner with the Underpants Gnomes to manufacture meth, which they had sold to local hobos and degenerates. When Craig's cancer bubbled to the surface, Tweek's anxiety had overwhelmed him to the point that he was too stressed to continue working with the Gnomes—who admittedly frightened him more than they should have—or manufacturing the drug that was in great demand in South Park. In turn, most of his and Craig's former customers had turned elsewhere for their fixes, but this one had continued to linger. I wasn't sure how I knew it, but as I saw the meth head flee the stock room that night, I knew that he wouldn't be back to bother Tweek.

When the man was gone, I had looked into Tweek's eyes and silently assured him that things would be better now. After a moment, he had walked away without saying anything. He had pulled a letter from his pocket, gently kissed it, and walked out of the warehouse, locking the door behind him. He had left me there alone, after which I slowly found myself disappearing from the room and reappearing on the street outside, alone. It had been in the next moment that Kenny had appeared, scaring the shit out of me.

I have to know what the hell is in that letter, I decide, though I know now it will never be used for its intended purpose. I will myself back into Tweek's bedroom one more time. He is asleep now, and I retrieve the envelope from the front pocket of his discarded jeans, tucked away and neatly folded. I pull out the letter and read it.

Craig,

I am sorry it has to be this way, but everything is too much now. I have wanted to tell you this for some time, but I've been afraid, and now I've missed my chance: I love you, in a romantic way. I realize that it's too late now and that I've waited too long to tell you this, but you're the only thing that is important to me, and it looks like you will be gone soon yourself. I'm sorry again.

I wipe a tear from my eye as I reread it. The weight of everything hits me, and it is too much. I need to rest.

Today I feel refreshed. Rest for the dead, I have found, is not much different than it is for the living. We don't sleep, of course; we recharge. I would explain it to you, but you wouldn't really understand. I'm beginning to get the hang of it, though. The first time I recharged, I saw the faces of Kenny, Tweek, and Craig. When I recharged this time, it was three new faces. One of them was hurting, one of them was helping, and the other was my mother.

When I am recharged, I decide to visit my mother since I do not yet know my second objective. She is alone at home and, as I predicted, she cannot see me. I know she feels the brokenness surrounding her, pulling her down. My father, paralytic, remains useless, while Ike slips further away. She imagines me in the sweet hereafter, but her hopes are not enough to quiet the storms she struggles to keep at bay. And when I look at her I can see something else. An aura surrounds her; it is vivid, yet I cannot describe what it is that I see. It means something, and I think it is bad. If nothing else, I can feel it is ominous, and something tells me that once I figure out what it means, it will prove revelatory.

It is later, as I shuffle aimlessly through the streets, that I feel the vibration of my karmambulator. Objective 2: Give Love, it reads. I think back to the other two people I saw when I recharged this time. As I close my eyes to process everything, I see Kenny. He tells me, "Follow your gut on this one."

I shiver at my gut instinct here, as the thought of one of the other two people from my recharge period comes clearly into focus—the one who was hurting, my best friend in the world. I convulse and feel heavy, just like before, and I know I must go to Stan.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this second installment, and I welcome all feedback—complimentary and constructive—in a review. What were your thoughts on this chapter? Did it need more of the comedic touches that I put in chapter one, or did it hit the right notes for you?

I am aiming to update this story about once a week, so be on the lookout for the next chapter!

Cheers,

TEPR