Hello again. Sorry for such a long hiatus. Almost three years is an inexcusable amount of time to update a fanfiction. But after losing my original laptop with all my chapters and notes, getting caught up in college and working to save money for an apartment, I'm ecstatic to say I'm back and plan to finish this story. Sorry again for making anyone who enjoyed this story in the past wait so long. Let's get down to business, shall we?

I, EranthyaeNoire, have in no way, shape, or form ownership of South Park. The likes of which, including setting, characters, and any specific events mentioned in this fanfiction belong to the likes of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I, personally, own only this fanfiction and any OCs, or Original Characters, that may take part in this fanfiction. Once again, I repeat that I do not own South Park.

Series: South Park

Rating: M for Mature. Such reasons include language, dark and/or suggestive themes, violence/gore, character death, and adult-like scenarios/concepts. Reader's discretion is advised.

Pairing: DamienxPip


A wise, well-respected Englishman of the nineteenth century, for whom Pip held a great respect for, known to many as Charles Dickens, once wrote in one of his many stories; "In the little world in which children have their existence whosoever brings them up, there is nothing so finely perceived and so finely felt, as injustice."

And such finer words could not have been spoken about the subject. Particularly in Pip's case. Within the few months short of a decade of his life, Pip had been given a heaping pile of injustice and misfortune thrust upon him. He withheld the physical abuse of his older sister, one Mrs. Joe Gargery, and the verbal abuse of the fair Estella Havisham. He withstood the teasing, stereotypical remarks and eventual loss of interest and abandonment of the children at South Park Elementary. His father Phillip, mother Georgiana, and five elder stillborn brothers (to this day he remembered all their names; Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias and Roger), God rest their souls, had all left him for the afterlife before he had the chance to form memories of them. His accomplishments often went unnoticed and his failures were often ridiculed. Most of his friends had been left behind in England, and his only friend in America was currently not on speaking terms with him for what he had almost agreed to not an hour beforehand.

Yes, life was, in many ways, unfair, to Pip Pirrup. Which, in the modern American way of putting things, sucked.

Usually, when things got unfortunate for him, he would shake it off and try to think more optimistically. After all, if one thinks positively, then surely things will take a turn for the better, right? At least that's what he hoped how it would work out. Most of the times, however, it was seldom anything other than more misfortune. Sometimes he would try to think of what he did to deserve such misfortune. Sometimes he could come up with a reason or two. Sometimes he had no idea whatsoever.

This time, however, he knew exactly what he did to bring this unfortunate punishment of shoutings, things thrown followed by silent treatments and short, hateful glares from one who Pip considered his only friend away from England. Damien Thorn, the Anti-Christ and son of Satan himself, was completely seething in relatively justified anger towards Pip. And Pip couldn't really blame him.

Not an hour and a half- at best two hours- ago, Pip had awoken from a nightmare to a rather intimate touch from an unconscious Damien. Pip, seeking an immediate solace to calm down, sought to go outside, only to be found by one Lilia, Whore of Babylon. The two of them talked, about Pip's nightmare and Pip's possible feelings for Damien. And then Lilia offered him everything he could ever want in exchange for giving up his friendly relationship with Damien.

Pip almost accepted.

And Damien was behind them, watching the whole deal go down. Had he not said something before Pip had a chance to answer; Pip would have taken Lilia up on Lilia's offer. Since then, Damien has been in a sour mood towards Pip. He threw things across the room. He yelled and screamed and cursed and threw a tantrum. And Pip honestly couldn't blame him for doing so. If the roles had been reversed, Pip probably would have reacted the same way Damien did. And now Pip had to face the misfortune of his consequences of his actions.

Bollocks.

Within the hour and a half since the ordeal, Damien had done nothing but glare and not speak to Pip. And if he wasn't doing that, he was staring angrily into nothing to then throw something -sometimes -with his powers, sometimes with his own arms- at the wall just to watch it break. Every time Pip would flinch- sometimes slightly, sometimes quite noticeably- at the sound of the random object breaking as it collided with the wall. The floor was starting to become littered with broken shards and fragments. Pip's heart sunk at the thought of what Damien would use to vent his unfathomable anger once he had run out of things he could throw at the wall.

He needed to get his mind off of the idea. It was not good to start the day thinking of such things. He turned his gaze towards the window. The sky was colored all kinds of pastel hues of pink, light orange and blue as the sun slowly made its way up beyond the horizon. The clouds in the sky were lit shades of pink as the star lit up the morning sky. The various trees-

Crash!

-That particular vase came to close to Pip's head, causing the young Brit to shriek out in panic and lean away from the former vase's trajectory. Now that was a bit uncalled for. Pip was a usually forgiving person, but even he had his limits. Now he couldn't even try to get his mind off of the guilt he was now so plagued with because he nearly compromised his friendship with Damien for selfish reasons he otherwise would never have the opportunity to indulge upon? Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.

Pip turned his gaze towards Damien, who returned it with a growing scowl. Pip's eyebrows furrowed down in the slightest at the sight. This behavior, although not unheard of for Damien, given their past interactions when Damien still attended South Park Elementary, were most unbecoming. Had he not known better, Pip would have called Damien out upon his uncouth tantrum. Yes, he was angry, but that was no reason to-

Boof!

One of the small decorative pillows from the bed was thrown across the room to collide with the back of the chair Pip was sitting on, narrowly missing him again when he ducked. Pip's limits of patience were being pushed farther today than they were the night before, and Pip wasn't quite sure how much longer he could endure. Damien was his friend, quite possibly his only friend since he went across the Atlantic to America. And now he had upset him. Perhaps, Pip thought, If I were to apologize he would forgive me for what I did. After all, that's what friends do in a situation such as this, right? When one upsets the other, the offender apologizes and the two resume being friends. It was worth a shot, at least. Then, if he be fortunate enough, Pip could get it across that he was truly sorry for what he had done not two hours ago. And, should he be even more fortunate, Damien would understand the sincerity of how sorry he was and the two of them could resume being friends and spend the last few hours of this day together on good terms.

And, even better, Damien would stop throwing things at Pip. That at the very least would be a blessing.

Damien was looking around at the room in search of what he could possibly throw at Pip next. He was starting to run out of options, aside from the large furniture such as the bed, chair, dresser drawers and vanity table. All delicate things were now in small shards on the floor, the pillows were thrown every which way, fabric loosened and ripped, and some had goose feathers coming out of the seams. One table side lamp was crooked and the other was beyond repair from its previous collision with the floor.

Well, no time like the present.

"Damien?" Pip called out. Damien's head did not noticeably move, yet, if one were to pay a closely amount of attention to his eyes, one would have noticed that his gaze moved in the slightest towards Pip's direction. Pip, however, was too far away from Damien to notice such a miniscule movement. So, in the knowledge that he was no longer looking for something to throw at him and just standing there, Pip continued with his hopeful apology. "Damien, I just wanted to say how sorry I was. I know you're mad at me for almost accepting Lilia's offer, and in retrospect, you have every right to be. I truly do feel awful about it...and, well, I don't know what else I can do other than give you my utmost and sincerest apology. And I can only hope that you'll be willing to forgive me so we can go back to being friends."

There was a pregnant silence between them, and it made Pip worry. Did he sound sincere enough? Did he get across just how sorry he was about what had happened? Was Damien willing to accept his apology and forgive him? Or were the two of them doomed to part ways on unpleasant terms? Please say something, Damien. An acceptance, a rejection, a grunt, anything. Anything he could say would be better than the endearing silence that filled Pip up with worry.

"I see." murmured the Anti-Christ. I see. What could that mean? Did he accept Pip's apology, or did he just reject it in an unclear way? What on earth could Damien have meant by 'I see'?

"Um, Damien?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you mean by 'I see'?"

"I mean I see. You apologized because you feel bad. And, to be honest, I couldn't give a bigger fuck about whether or not you feel bad." Damien said. Well, that was a bit harsher than needed be. Pip began to wish he hadn't asked in the first place and just been satisfied with the previous silence. "You almost made a deal with Lilia and that's that. And when people feel bad about things they did- in your case, being a two-timing treacherous little piece of shit- they always grovel and beg for mercy."

Those words struck a little too close to home, leaving Pip in a midst of conflicting emotions. He was confused. He was a bit let down, knowing that Damien could see his feeble attempt of what was supposed to be a heartfelt and sincere apology as something pathetic and not worth his time. He felt a bit frustrated and upset; he just apologized for wronging Damien, and yet all Damien can say to him was an insult and pointing out, yet again, his mistake? Oh, it was almost enough to make him visibly upset. Calm down, Pip. Calm down. If he were to lose his composure he would compromise his visage as a gentleman he had worked for so hard to achieve.

"Th-that's a bit harsh, Damien." Pip stammered, trying his best to not let his frustration and whelming hurt get the better of him.

"I don't think you get it, though. 'Harsh' is natural for me, Pip. I am a child of Satan. I don't feel mercy or compassion or forgiveness. It's not in my nature. You're trying to ask for something that isn't there. It's kind of pathetic, really. So just stop now before I start getting annoyed and start thinking of actually hitting you with something. I just want to get you back to South Park now so I won't have to deal with you anymore."

Damien made it abundantly clear that Pip's attempts to mend things between had no more effect than beating a dead horse, if not with worse results. He hung his head in shame and in sorrow. "Sorry for bothering you, then." he muttered. He let out a small sigh and turned his head to the door. He might as well leave the room. He needed his clothes anyway, and it would give Damien time to- hopefully, if Pip were the least bit fortunate- think of maybe perhaps forgiving Pip. So, with a heavy heart and a sullen disposition, Pip took the steps toward the door.

And then a thought struck him.

Jacob. Jacob Heiden. The boy who had beaten Pip to a bloody pulp- with the faint remnants of bruises still on his face- and, more importantly, had a previous encounter with Damien. From what he was told, they were once friends, as Damien and Pip were. But, because of some reason, Jacob and Damien had a falling out, and resulted in the death of Jacob's family. Was he going through the same situation as Jacob now? If Pip left things the way they were, would he meet a same fate as Jacob did, or worse? This sudden realization planted seeds of fear and anxiousness in him, and they began to take root. If this were the case, Pip needed to do something. He couldn't let his foster family die. He didn't want to die. Pip had to do something, quick, to get back on Damien's good side.

"Damien?"

"What?" Damien sounded most curt, as if he didn't want to be spoken to. Too bad, Damien. Pip needed to resolve the conflict between them, no matter how much Damien may not have wanted to.

"I know that you're mad at me for what I had done-"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"-But I want to make it up to you. I don't want the two of us to part ways on negative terms because of this. So what can I do to make it up to you?" Pip asked, facing Damien and trying his best to sound firm and confident in his words. In all honesty, he was a bit nervous, knowing full well Damien didn't really want anything to do with Pip at the moment, or quite possibly, for the rest of their lives. But there was no harm in trying, especially if something could be done about it.

Damien turned to him. His face was stern; lips pursed together, jaw clenched, thick, dark eyebrows furrowed downward, and his eyes were staring dead on at Pip. He seemed to be contemplating, quite possibly thinking of just what Pip could do to make it up to him. The silence in the air between them hung heavy, and every passing second that Damien did not utter something, the harder Pip's heart beat in anticipation. Finally, he took striding steps towards his English friend, stopping within half an arms' reach between them.

"Well, you can start by not assuming that just because I fought with Jacob and unleashed a Hell hound on his house, that it'll mean the same thing for you." Damien said. Pip could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, maybe two. How on earth could you have possibly known that Pip knew about that? "Yes, I know they told you. I'd be surprised if they didn't tell you their sob stories to try to win you over. And even if they didn't, it doesn't take a genius to see that Jacob has a reason to want to have me killed so badly. But, honestly, think about it. Why would I go through all this trouble to get you out of that hotel with those idiots if I were just going to kill you later? You know nothing, if at best very little, of our plans for Father."

"Then why did you go through all that trouble of telling me about them in the first place? I don't mean to offend, Damien, but it kind of painted a big target on my back when you came to visit me on the playground the day Jacob first came to our class." Pip replied.

"I needed an inside eye. They're essentially nomads. Sometimes they come to a town on a mission to hunt us down and kill us and other times it's simply to stop and resupply. My siblings and I need them to stay out of South Park, and if they had caught on to the importance of the town they definitely would have done something."

"Why?" inquired Pip.

"We have plans. Nothing more, nothing less." Damien answered, "And there's nothing more you need to know than that. I plan to hold you to your word, Pip. If there's anything in the future I may need you for, you will help me. No exceptions."

"R-right-O. Gladly, Damien." Pip responded, slightly nervous as to what Damien could possibly mean by 'anything'. This talk of plans for South Park, especially since it was that of Damien and his siblings, rather than just Damien himself, also gave him some worry. But amongst the nervousness was a small bit of relief. He had managed to mend the gap between them, if just a little. And that was a good start. "I'm going to go fetch my clothes."

"Do you even know where Lilia's laundry room is?" Damien asked with just the slightest bit of accusation. Oops. Damien had him there. Lilia's house was so big and with so many rooms. Who knew where it could possibly in this labyrinth she called a house? Pip shook his head slightly, slightly embarrassed.

"Me neither. We might as well both go. If you go by yourself and ran into one of my brothers or sisters, chances are we'd have another event from last night." Really? All of Damien's brothers and sisters would want to make deals with Pip? He couldn't really come up with a reason why; he was nothing particularly special. Perhaps it had something to with the fact they were, essentially, demons. And, according to the Holy Bible, demons wanted to tempt and corrupt humanity to bring their souls to Hell. But Pip wasn't an expert on religion, so he could only assume that this was the reason.

He followed behind Damien as the other led them through hallway after hallway, taking twists and turns ever so often. It was almost like a labyrinth; nigh impossible to make heads or tails and easy for one to lose their self in the complexity of it all. Though now morning, and despite the occasional low-lit lamps, there was a lingering darkness that encompassed them. There was silence. It followed them like a bloodhound and surrounded them like the very air they breathed. It was a bit unsettling. It put Pip on edge. There was just something about this place and the silence and darkness with it that seemed frightening. If Pip hadn't known it to be absolute nonsense, he would almost think that something was following them. But, of course, that was absolu-

Creeek.

Oh dear. What was that? Pip looked over his shoulder for a moment. There's nothing there. There's nothing there. He was imagining things, there was nothing there. Please, dear Lord, let there be nothing there.

Nothing. Not a sign of life to be seen, normal or paranormal. Oh, thank goodness. Pip let out a small, almost unnoticeable, sigh of relief. Nothing was there. Just his mind playing tricks on him, right? Yes, that had to have been the case. He turned back around, ready to follow after Damien yet again. His heart sank, and then flew into a fury of heightened beats.

Damien was gone.

Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear! Where had he gone off to? And in such a short amount of time?! He hurried to the nearest turn in the hallway. Please let him be there. Please, please, oh please, let him be there and not too far ahead of him. With a quickened pace he turned to at the corner, and found himself confronting a figure.

One not at all resembling his friend Damien in any way, shape or form. Male, yes, but taller, with broad shoulders and a disapproving scowl hidden under thick eyebrows and facial hair. He had a large belly protruding from his finely tailored waistcoat and a small hat to hide what looked like receding hair. He was finely dressed, to say the least. He looked down at Pip with an air of superiority, as if silently demanding "How dare you get in my way?!"

"I-I'm sorry, sir. Have you seen my friend Damien?" Pip asked. Perhaps he had seen him and would point him in the direction.

"You're a human." he said. He did not ask it, nor did he say it in a bland manner. The man spoke it in a derogatory manner, as if being a human made him lesser than the large man. "Why on earth would the youngest of my brethren rub elbows with the likes of a human?"

"I was his friend when he came to my elementary school last year. Have you seen him?" Pip asked again.

"Hmph. Helen!" bellowed the large man as he turned to behind him, his voice resonating through the halls and in Pip's ears. The sound of a door opening and quickly closing, following by the sound of women's' heels clacking against the floor, keeping a steady and fast past until at last the serious-looking businesswoman known as Helen Dinero appeared.

"Yes, sir?" she answered curtly. He turned to her with a disgusted look, mouth turned down in a frown and eyebrows corrugated downward. He pointed one of his large pudgy fingers towards Pip, followed by a small wave of his whole hand.

"Get rid of this, if you will. I don't wish to see this thing in my sight." he said, emphasizing 'thing' with a copious amount of mockery and disdain. Okay, Pip understood. The man did not like Pip and especially did not like him being a human. "And make sure my flight to New York in underway. If I'm late for my meeting with the Board of Directors and the lawsuit at the courts afterwards it will be your blood, not mine, to be shed. And for fuck's sake, woman, make yourself presentable! I won't have my secretary dressed in anything less than Armani or Dolce & Gabana! What would it say about me as an employer?!" He was quite prideful. Was Miss Helen Dinero really in the servitude of the embodiment of Avarice? He seemed to be more prideful than greedy.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Helen answered as she then took a firm hold of Pip by the shoulder and pulled him away. She had a remarkable grip for such a thin woman. Her manicured nails kind of hurt as she kept his shoulder in her grasp. Once the two of them were out of sight and sound of Helen's employer, whoever he was, she finally let go of his shoulder. She pushed him against the wall and held him there by his head. How was such a small woman so strong? And, furthermore, why was she pinning him against the wall?

Oh dear. When he said 'get rid of this', he meant 'kill him', didn't he? That did make sense. From what he's witnessed thus far, the only one of the children of Satan interested in keeping Pip alive was Damien, and he was nowhere to be seen right now. Pip grabbed onto her wrists to pry her hands from his head, hoping to make a break for it. Her grip really was ridiculously strong. The back of his head was beginning to hurt against the wall, and the front was beginning to hurt from the firm hand that kept it there.

With her hand firmly on the front of his face, his eyes were shielded from what was going on, having to thereby rely on his other senses to understand what she was going to do. He heard the rustling of fabric. He heard a soft click. That could be one of two things that first came to Pip's mind; switchblade opening, or a small gun with the safety lock now removed.

Why, Helen? She seemed like a reasonable and sane woman last night? Why now was she trying to do in the young Brit? He pushed at the hand, determined with every fiber of his being to get out of this woman's grip and run. He felt her hand starting to budge, and with this new sensation felt his determination to do so increase tenfold. He could do it! He wasn't entirely helpless! Just a little more- come on- just a little more!

Finally! Freedom!

He dashed away as fast as his feet and legs would able him, doing his best to outrun this subtly psychotic woman in a business suit. He could hear muffled shots of what he now knew to be a handgun, and the loud thumps of bullets colliding of the wall only confirmed this. He had to hurry and get away from the armed woman. He turned at corners and sprinted down hallways. He looked over his shoulder, hoping and wishing and praying that there wasn't Helen Dinero behind him with whatever weapon she had planned to do him in with. No Helen. Thank goodness.

He began to slow down, becoming a tad exhausted from his previous sprint. Before coming to a complete stop, however, he collided with something. Scratch that, someone. The 'oof' was proof enough of his collision with a person.

"Where the fuck did you go?" asked an aggravated Damien Thorne, "And why the fuck were you running?"

"She- Helen- oh God," Pip let out, doing his best to catch his breath, "Tried t-to kill me! She tried to kill me! The large man told her to!"

Damien looked at Pip in disbelief, as if confused by his friend's words. What was there to be confused about? Pip made it clear; the large man told Helen to kill him and Pip had to run for his life to avoid getting killed. That was pretty simple to follow, wasn't it? "Pip, everyone else aside from you, me and the Whore is gone. We're the only ones in the house." Pip looked at Damien in confusion as he continued to catch his breath. Gone? Well, that couldn't be right, could it? Pip could still faintly feel the strong grip Helen had on his head. There could be no way he imagined it all; it was all too real.

"Not that I don't believe you, Damien, but could you please explain why I was nearly maimed just now if we're the only ones here?" Pip inquired, "She threw me into a wall, Damien. I hope I don't sound rude or anything, but it's kind of hard to just imagine something like that. And where did you go? I look away for a moment and you vanished!"

"I didn't go anywhere, dipshit. You were the one that went missing," Damien retorted crossly, "I don't know exactly how, Lilia's place is all kinds of fucked up, but somehow you just vanished for a moment. We can ask the damn bitch how when we get downstairs. Now, come on. I'm tired of having to goddamn babysit you." Damien took hold of Pip by his shirt and pulled him along firmly. He could walk. Why did Damien need to hold on so tightly to his shirt as if he couldn't?

The two of them walked down the hallways and, at last, came to the stairs. After going down said flight and passing through yet another labyrinth-esque hallway the two finally came across somewhat familiar territory. The counters, the chairs, the stainless steel fridge, the large windows; at last they had come to the kitchen. And there, still in the robe she was wearing not a few hours earlier, still drinking wine, was a rather sour looking Lilia. She took but one look at them, looking quite irritated as her eyes narrowed and burned with some unknown emotion. "Well, well. If it ain't m'baby brother and his butt buddy. Whadya waant?" she asked, words slurring a bit. How much wine has she consumed since they left her hours before?

"Our siblings have left and yet someone nearly killed Pip. Explain." Damien said as he finally released his hold on Pip's shirt. Pip straightened it, trying to make it look presentable. Lilia groaned as she laid her head on the counter with her hand still wrapped around the wine bottle. After a few seconds of sitting like that, she brought her head back up.

"Fuck if I know." she said, "House is all kinds of fucked up. Shit moves, see things in places, all other kinds of weird ass shit happening. Especially with all you sons of bitches running around making this house more damned than usual." She frowned at her younger brother. "Y'know, I honestly couldn't give a rat's ass about the plan for Father. So why the hell you fuckers came all came here is just beyond me." She took another swig of the wine, straight from the bottle.

The drinking had made her beauty tarnish immensely. Her previously lovely face lost the allure and inviting glow it had before and was replaced with ugly circles under her eyes and creasing scowl marks. Her hair stuck to her forehead in a sticky mess. The bitterness in her voice and words and the arching slouch gave her the impression of some cruel old hag. It was almost strange to see one who was once so lovely the night before now so honestly unappealing. She turned her gaze to Pip.

"Don't you look at me like you're sorry for me, you limey piece of shit!" she shrieked, pointing one finger at him. Pip jumped at the sudden shrillness in her voice. "Get out of here! Go!"

"Tell us where the laundry room is." demanded Damien firmly. Lilia promptly responded with an obscene gesture and another drink from the bottle. "That doesn't tell me anything." Another gesture. "Just answer the goddamn question, bitch."

"Down the hall, third door on the left before you get t'the garage, goddammit," Lilia said exasperatedly, "Now get the hell out!" And they did just that, and left the Whore alone in her kitchen with her alcohol and her sour mood.

Pip and Damien walked to the laundry room in silence, not even casting a glance at each other. At least, Pip was sure they weren't. He definitely wasn't. He was a bit too preoccupied looking at the ground and thinking. Lilia seemed like such a pleasant woman from the night before, and not a few hours ago as well. Was that just a ruse? Was Damien being truthful when he said that it was all to bait one in? Was that atrocious behavior from moments before what Lilia was really like? Or was it all the alcohol that she consumed finally taking its toll on the young woman? It was all a bit much for the young Brit to comprehend and think over. Oh dear.

"Pip, quit thinking and go get your damn clothes." he heard Damien say, pulling him from the occupying thoughts. Oh? They were here already? That was rather quick. Fumbling briefly before regaining his composure, Pip nodded and then opened the door. The laundry room was small and quaint, as most laundry rooms tended to be. The washing machine and dryer stood beside each other in matching off-white on the right side of the doorway. To the left was a small cabinet, and on it, clean, pressed, and folded neatly, was Pip's clothes.

He was beaming. Pip had never been so happy to see clean clothes, his clothes, in all his life. There were wonders done. The bloodstains, the layers of dust and dirt and the sheer filthiness of wearing the same thing for nearly three weeks seemed to have been wiped clean from the fabrics. If Pip hadn't known any better, he could have sworn they were brand new.

"What're you waiting for? Permission? Change, dumbass!" Damien said shortly. Oh, right. He needed to change. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could get back home to South Park. One by one he shed the loaned clothes, making sure to put them in the hamper nearby. Button up shirt, blazer, and bow tie. The knee-length slacks and the socks, and to pull the ensemble together, the brown newsboy cap. It felt good to be back in his own clothes, his own clean clothes, again. All that was left now were his shoes, which resided back in the bedroom. Things were finally starting to get back into the usual state of normality he was accustomed to. It wouldn't be long now.

"All set, Damien. Well, just about. Still need to get my shoes from the room." Pip said, a small grin on his face and giddiness in his voice. Damien looked about as unamused about Pip's clean attire as Pip was joyous about it. "Shall we get going?"

"Where's this sudden damn chippy attitude coming from?" Damien asked as the two of them walked down the hallway, "I swear, you're a damn emotional roller coaster sometimes."

"I'm wearing my own clothes and they're clean for the first time in weeks. I get to go home after being held hostage and terrified out of my mind by both normal and paranormal individuals. And I think I managed to get back on good terms with my only friend. Things seem to be turning up, so I can't see why I shouldn't feel a little happy about it." Pip responded, "Maybe after all the rubbish that went on these last few weeks, the powers that be are finally letting up a little." The grin couldn't go away. That feeling that things are getting better wouldn't go away.

"Only friend?" repeated Damien.

"Well, yes. I've lost contact with Joe and Estella, and Pocket died of Hepatitis B some time ago, and all the children at South Park elementary don't really seem to enjoy being around me all that much, so all that really leaves is you, Damien." Pip explained, "You could even say you're my best friend."

Damien stared for a brief moment, seeming to contemplate as to how he should react to such a statement, before finally turning away and walking on with Pip following not far behind. The two of them walked along in silence, slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable. Pip wondered if what he had said may have bothered Damien and whether or not he should say something. After all, from what Pip had gathered, Damien didn't really have friends, and the only people he associated with on a regular basis were a family of hell spawn half-siblings who could care less for his welfare and a renegade group of individuals intent on killing him for the sake of the world. Perhaps the idea of a friend would be rather foreign to-

"Pip?" Damien asked.

"Yes Damien?" replied Pip.

"That was a bit gay, don't you think?"

Or, then again, maybe the silence wasn't a matter of whether or not Damien was comfortable being called Pip's best friend, but rather a delayed negative response. Oh well. He should have expected as such by now from Damien, Pip mused. He wasn't some lonesome little boy like Pip was. He was a determined and surprisingly calculating son of Satan with unknown ambitions. Pip really needed to keep these kinds of things in mind.

As Pip continued to ponder over the complexity of Damien and his friendship of sorts with him, the two finally reached back to the kitchen. Lilia was nowhere to be seen. The bottle she was tending to earlier rested upon the counter on its side, its contents dripping onto the counter. Where did she go? Pip took a step forward before being stopped by Damien's hand. He turned to the young Anti-Christ and was met with a facial expression he had yet to ever see on Damien: apprehension. Something about the scene made the young boy nervous. Seeing this made Pip feel worried.

He turned his gaze back to the kitchen, and his eyes noted something he previously did not see. On the floor, almost completely hidden behind the counter and counter chairs, laid a bloodstained, manicured hand. Was that Lilia? Was she dead?

The audible dry swallow and slow backwards retreat of Damien proved his suspicions. Fear sunk back into Pip's heart and burrowed its talons, securing itself there. He felt himself jump and almost let out a startled cry when he felt Damien's hand tightly grip his wrist. If he held on any tighter, Damien could very well inflict some injury to his wrist. This was so unlike Damien. There were no cold-hearted facades or unreadable poker faces or cold words and threats to cut to the very core of one's being. There was only something very human that Pip had yet to ever see from him: fear.

The two of them simultaneously walked back slowly, hoping to not to indicate to whatever that killed the former Whore of Babylon that there was still two living beings in the house.

"Boys."

Damn.

Pip looked over his shoulder to see a man in a trench coat. Elijah. He hadn't much time to register much else before being pulled violently by Damien away from the man. The two bolted away as fast as their feet would carry them. Damien would levitate nearby items and throw them in Elijah's direction. When he threw a vase, the sound of gunshots and shattering porcelain filled the air. He was armed. Elijah had at the very least one gun on his person and had the intent of using it. With as much speed as the two could muster with the minor assistance of whatever Damien could find to throw at him, the two made their way down the labyrinth like hallway. Gunshots rang out and Elijah's steps were quick and audible and every sound Pip heard made him wish more and more that he could run all the more faster away.

They ran down the end of one hallway and were met with a door. Damien flung it open and pushed Pip inside. A gunshot rung out, followed by the sharp, painful cry of one Damien Thorne. Pip's heart raced in fear at the sound of it and turned to look at his friend.

"Don't fucking stop! Move!" yelled Damien as he slammed the door shut and locked it. He slammed his hand against a button next to the door, causing the garage door to begin to open. Pip ducked down to make his way underneath to get outside, but a firm hold on the collar of his shirt held him back. He turned to see Damien silently point to the car, and followed after him. Ducking behind the far side of the vehicle behind a wheel, Pip did his best to be quiet and hope they would not be found. He jolted when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned to Damien, who pointed to underneath the car. He watched the other crawl underneath. Surely he would be spotted if-

BANG! BANG!

The fired shots of Elijah's weapon bellowed in the air, and Pip let out a small cry and instinctively ducked, his hands covering his ears to block out any more noise. He quickly shuffled underneath the car next to Damien, looking to the other for guidance. What now? If, no, when, Elijah finally broke down through the doors and made his way inside, what would they do? They were sitting ducks. There was no way-

The door banged open and Elijah ran in. From underneath the vehicle Pip could see the tip of the handgun, and became consumed with fear. This was the end, wasn't it?

He watched Elijah's footsteps make their way around the garage, then quickly head for the door. Please let him leave. Please let him not notice them. Please, please, please don't let them die. Thoughts such as these raced through Pip's mind as he watched, and he nearly let out a startled cry when he felt something on his hand. He turned his head to see Damien's hand on his. He looked to the other. With his free hand the other put a finger to his lips in a hushing manner, then averted his gaze to the armed man feet away. He took the free hand and placed it flatly on the ground. Small cracks began appearing from under the palm, steadily making their way towards Elijah. The floor beneath him began to crack and crumble, and finally cave in underneath him.

Pip watched in awe and terror as the man clung to the edge of the pit. He could see faint glows of fire on his back as he struggled to keep himself above the floor. It brought back memories of what happened at Cartman's birthday party forever ago. The fathomless hole full of fire Damien brought forth was almost identical to the one he used on Pip. How long would it be before those demonic entities that made a spectacle out of him would turn to Elijah? He could feel his fear rising and clenched his hands tightly into fists. His heart was racing, skin forming a coat of sweat and his eyes felt like they were about to spew forth a river of tears. He heard some shuffling to his left and turned to see Damien making his way out from under the car. The boy stood up and slowly made his way to the edge of the pit, casually kicking away the handgun away from Elijah. Pip pressed his face as close to the pavement floor and watched. Damien glanced his way and grinned, then turned his gaze back to Elijah.

"Little harder to shoot me now, isn't it?" Damien said, kneeling down in front of the man. The ground continued to crack underneath Elijah, forcing the man to strengthen his grip on the ledge. "You're not so big and bad without a gun, huh? Can't even get up out of that hellhole and come after me, can you, you son of a bitch?!" His voice was increasing in volume and his tone was dripping in sadistic mockery. A wild, toothy grin was spreading quickly on his lips.

"Hellspawn…" grunted Elijah as he struggled to hold on, "You're as dead as the Whore. As all the others."

"You know, I'd believe that more if I was down there and you were up here." Damien replied as he stood up, slowly pacing along the edge with his hands placidly hanging behind his back, "None of us even really liked Lilia anyway. You practically did us a favor sending her back home for a few years."

The faint sounds of cackling and screeches could be heard now, and were increasing in their volume. They were coming. It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, you hear that?" Damien said, placing a hand to his ear and leaning forward to the pit, "Sounds like someone's gonna get themselves torn about thirty new ones. Hope you like Hell, motherfucker!" And then they came. Dozens of shadowy forms clawing at the man, gripping and pulling and scratching at him to drag him down below. Their screeches and cries pierced the air and rung in Pip's ears. Even with his palms pressed closely to his ears as possible he could hear those pitched shrieks and it frightened him. Elijah was resilient, however, despite the deep claw wounds in his back he continued to keep his hold over the edge.

Damien, it seemed, wasn't having any of that.

Pip could see the other walk away from the edge towards outside the garage. He heard the sound of something picked up and the young Antichrist's steps returning.

BANG!

The shot of the gunfire made Pip jump and cry out.

Elijah's now dead body went limp. It was quickly pulled down below by the demonic apparitions. As quickly as the pit appeared it quickly disappeared, the fallen pieces of concrete returning to the proper places and the cracks vanishing altogether.


Well, that's the end of the chapter. What do you guys think? Do I still got it after all these years? I plan on finishing it either way, but do feel free to tell me what you think. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon!