The next day at school was dead quiet. The air was thick enough to be cut with a knife, teachers standing awkwardly to the side as their students cried. Those that attempted to continue on as normal were met with blank and cold stares.

It was hard to tell who was worse off; Craig or Stan.

Craig wandered the halls looking lost until either Token or Clyde took him by the arm and led him to class. Stan slid through the crowds of people, trying to avoid their accusing gazes. He mumbled constantly under his breath...

"...it's not my fault...it isn't...please...someone...please...believe me."

The bell rang for lunch. People filed out to the cafeteria, pushing and shoving each other in a desperate attempt to be first in line for days old pizza and stale ham and cheese sandwiches. Stan made his way to the pavilion. It was always empty, people preferring to stay in the warm outdoors than the cold snow covered concrete. He sat down and breathed out, watching his breath trickle out of his mouth in white clouds like the ghosts of terrible secrets.

"Hello friend!" Stan looked up. A boy stood in front of him. He was dressed very lightly for this time of year. It couldn't have been more than forty degrees out yet he wore shorts and button-up shirt. Despite the freezing cold and fast winds his skin remained pale white and smooth, neither a red blush or goosebump to be found.

"You're in the wrong campus, kid." Stan said dully. "Elementary is down the street."

The boy giggled, a soft innocent childlike sound that set Stan's hair on edge. He laughed as if a funnier joke-that he was at the wrong school!-had never been told. "Oh no!" He said. "I'm not here for school! I'm here for you!"

"For me?"

The boy sat himself down next to Stan. His skin was ice cold and seemed to feed off the warmth radiating from him. "You seemed so sad. I hate it when people are sad." He played idly with Stan's fingers.

"I just lost a good friend of mine recently." Stan didn't mention how it was his sister's fault that Tween was dead or how odd it felt to call a boy he hadn't spoken more than forty words to in the last six years a friend.

"I've found prayer really helps me in times of need. Have you tried praying really, really hard?" His smile was both sweet and predatory.

"Yes, I've tried praying really, really hard but in this case I don't think it's going to help."

"Then maybe you've been praying to the wrong person?"

Stan must have heard him wrong. It was the only explanation. "What?"

"Stan what would I tell you if there was someone who was looking out for you? Someone who cared about you very much? Someone that cared about you very much. Someone who wasn't God."

"I'd say you're full of shit."

"That's the bad thing about being a good guy." The boy mused, all traces of sweetness gone from his smile. "You have all these rules to follow. Don't interfere in human lives, don't bend the rules. I have been sent here to tell you Stan that someone has been watching you. Someone has seen how you have suffered and someone is telling you that they are willing to bend the rules. Think about it Stan. How many times have people needed a miracle and He hasn't stepped up."

"How many times have you stepped up?" Stan challenged.

"As many times as we've been asked. We can't do anything without a notarized request and a please." He smiled his big-fucking-I'm-at-the-wrong-school-haha joke smile again. "So, tell me Stan, what's it going to be? Fame? Money? Power? Women? Men? How about a normal family? In a nice normal town maybe? Go on, all you have to do is say the word."

He musters a lame joke. "I thought you said I needed it notarized."

The boy smiles. "I thought I said we tend to bend the rules?"

"What's the catch? For anything I want in the world there must be one."

"Nope. All you have to do is say please. No selling of souls, no sacrificing virgins. Just one rule free wish. And make it fast. I have places to be."

"Why me?" Stan asked. "Out of all the people in this world who need a miracle, why me?"

"Why not?" He responded simply.

"Bring him back then. If you're so all powerful that the rules don't apply, bring him back."

"Why do you care so much?" The bright blue eyes of the boy seemed to pierce his very soul. "You don't know Tweek. You haven't spoken to him in years. Why are you wasting your wish on him?"

He paused to think about it before picking out his words slowly, carefully. "When I was little I broke a vase. My mom was really upset. I think her sister gave it to her before she died. My dad took all the pieces and sat me down in front of them. Everyday for two weeks I went straight to my room and tried to put everything back together. "If you break something," my dad said, "then you fix it." I have to fix this. For me, for Tweek, for Craig, for Shelly. For everybody."

"Alright, alright. I get it. You have a hero complex. Who am I to judge?" He stands up. Stan glances at his watch. There's still half an hour to the bell. "You'll get your wish just like I promised. But first...I have a question. What happened to your mother's vase?"

Stan's stony silence was answer enough and he giggled. "That's what I thought."

Tweek opened his eyes and screamed. He shakingly reached out into the darkness and screamed again as his fingers met the soft, curved roof of his coffin. He gasped for air and felt around. "Oh God, oh God, oh God." He panted. His left arm refused to move and his chest felt odd. His right hand fluttered up and down his body like a frightened butterfly. He bit down on his tongue hard to prevent more screaming. His arm was bent at an unnatural angle and if he preserve down hard enough on his chest he could feel his fingers slip through what he assumed was skin into flesh. He held his breath until he realized that he didn't need to breath. He squirmed unhappily in his wooden prison. He was naked save for a scratchy blanket.

He pawed at the ceiling and screamed again, hoping someone would hear him. Nothing. He pounded as hard as he could on the sides. They splintered open and dirt began to pour in. He didn't give himself time to be amazed as he slithered out his coffin. Dirt filled his mouth as he pushed away the dirt. The process took hours. Dig, squirm, spit out any dirt from his mouth, repeat..

When he finally broke through to the surface it was dark outside.

He laid across the soil of his own grave and panted, staring at his headstone dazedly. This could not be happening, he thought, things like this only happened in movies. Very, very scary, very, very unrealistic movies. He stared at his hand, skin looking yellow and sickly under the meager lights of the streetlamps. His right arm was normal looking but the left was burned and misshapen. He moaned in terror as he rolled onto his belly. "God help me!" He begged.

"Tsk tsk." Someone tutted. "Again with this God nonsense." Tweek squinted up at him.

"Who...?"

"Let's just say I'm a friend. Up you get." He hoisted Tweek to his feet with strength far beyond his years.

"Wow!"

"Let's get going. There's someone who misses you very much."

Craig slammed the door to his bedroom closed and locked it tight. The voices of his parents and whatever whore happened to be on the television at the time boomed through the thin wood. Ruby had done the same hours ago and even now he could hear her crappy music blasting down the hall. He flipped her off silently and collapsed onto Tweek's bed. The twitchy blond used to stay over so often that there was a nest of blankets and pillows that had become a permanent fixture in Craig's otherwise perfectly organized life. There was a similar nest for Craig in Tweek's room. He sniffed pensively. The blankets used to reek of coffee and Tweek but the smell had faded over the course of the hellish week.

Craig burrowed deeply into the blankets, staring blankly at the stacks of books that filled the empty space under his bed. Tweek had been terrified of the space for days and refused to stop bitching about it until he shoved a bunch of random crap under there to keep him quiet. It was odd to think about how something that pissed him off so much weeks ago would comfort him right now. He would give a lot to hear Tweek rant about the evils that lurked under his bed.

"Say hello now!"

Craig whirled around and fell back. Tweek stood in the middle of his room with a boy no older than nine holding his hand.

That was good. That was okay. That wasn't what scared him shitless.

It was the gaping hole in his best friend's chest that did it.

"Toodles!" The younger boy said, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

The blond collapsed to his knees without the support. Old instincts won out and Craig rushed forward to catch him. "Jesus, Tweek." He gasped. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Tweek clung to him with dirty fingers, whimpering softly at the back of his throat. He was deathly still and Craig almost believed that faith decided to fuck with him by bringing his best friend back to life only to have him die again in his arms. Tweek shifted slightly. "Craig..." He moaned. "Don't send me back. Please don't. I don't wanna go back. I wanna stay here with you. I don't wanna, I don't wanna go back."

"Go back where?" Craig asked, confused.

"Underground." He whispered, nuzzling himself under Craig's chin. He flinched. Tweek stiffened and pulled away slowly. "Craig?" He blinked. That was one thing that remained unchanged about Tweek. His eyes were the same clear green they'd always been. He focused on them. "You're not scared of me are you, Craig?" He bit his lip hard and the flesh tore quietly.

"No!" And he wasn't. He loved Tweek. Without him, his life was meaningless. The hellish weeks had showed him he'd take Tweek in whatever form he came in. If some higher power somewhere saw fit to return his best friend as a zombie then he would take him and run like a motherfucker.

"I missed you, Craig."

"I missed you too, Tweek."

Had his eyes always been so big? He pushed away the feeling of foreboding that swelled in his heart.

"Best friends forever, right, Craig?" Tweek said in a broken voice. "Forever?"

Craig swallowed hard and took the bloody hand in his. "Forever." He promised.

AND THE PLOT BEGINS, MOTHAFUKAAAS! *cough cough* Sorry but if I didn't say it, I'd be wishing the entire story I had. I apologize that the update is late but the family computer died so I've had nowhere to update. I've resorted to begging my sister for use of her computer. I'm out my phone charger, television privileges, the last box of Twinkies I was planning on saving for my grandchildren, my headphones and I'm her chore-bitch for the next week. Please, if there is anyone who wouldn't mind getting PMs with chapters and posting them to my account I would be ever so grateful. Yes, I'm super naive for assuming you won't just delete everything but I'm desperate.

Also, I would like that every reviewer thank Sadie for the use of her computer. Without her Gods know when this chapter would be up. THANK YOU!

PRAISE BE TO THE ALMIGHTY SADIE!

Seriously somebody help me I cannot do extra laundry for another two weeks.