Another edit. Whee.
Disclaimer: South Park is the creation of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Beware of hidden Budda-esque messages. This fan fiction may suffer slaughtering. Literally. It should not be read by anyone who does not understand the term "AU". Peace be with you. Meditating is the key to writing. Buddha says to become a better person, you should review.
PS. Buddha says he didn't really say that and that the author should fess up.
…blame this disclaimer on Samuel L. Jackson.
Just because we can.
Let's begin, shall we?
4:03 AM.
The first scream.
Encased by blackness, the team members rose to their feet, cries and wails accompanying blind movement. A second scream sounded, merging into a shrill whistle. The boys fumbled for flashlights, trying to move closer to the fire's light.
"What the hell's going on?" Token started, voice strong but fearful. His flashlight rotated lighting up each player in succession. Turning his body, the spotlight fell on Tweek. He stood away from the group, screaming incessantly. "Tweek? Tweek, dude, chill."
Stan glanced at Kyle before tugging his shoulder. A sickly odor filling his nostrils. Something was wrong.
Upon reaching his back, his horror was warranted.
"Oh my God, they killed Kenny," Stan gasped.
Flashlights turned to the source as the team assembled behind the screaming boy. The visage was horrendous. The boy's orange parka was stained with blood. A gaping hole lay in his side, trails of intestine pulled from his body. Putrid stomach bile stained the ground by crushed legs. His head had been severed.
Token's flashlight moved along the ground following a freshly made trail of blood over the crushed leaves. The trail wound to the broken bus; the mutilated head wedged beneath the front right axel. Eyes had been severed from their sockets; his mouth gaping wide in a scream for help; his blond hair matted with blood.
"You bastards," Kyle whispered.
The resounding retching and lurching noises of vomit followed. Cartman stood to the side, hands gripping on his knees as his insides expelled. He lurched again and again, a continuous rebel until he dry heaved. "K-Kenny," he choked in between heavy breaths. Acidic tears stung the corneas of his eyes as he mourned. Heads hung, fingers weaved together.
"Kenny!" Cartman screamed again. "GOD DAMN IT, KENNY!" He pulled to his feet, staggering as he ran to the severed head. His hands closed in the blond mass as he tugged at it. "KENNY! KENNY, WAKE UP YOU SON OF A BITCH! KENNY! GOD DAMN IT, KENNY!"
"Cartman -" Stan started, voice hitching in the middle.
"KENNY! KENNY!"
"Kenny's… gone…" Kyle murmured. He glanced at Stan before his head turned, eyes softening. Their quad was broken.
Both boys approached their wailing friend. Stan extended his hand, fingers brushing along the back of Cartman's shoulder. "W-We'll all m-m-miss him."
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!" Cartman snapped, arm swinging back as he knocked Stan's leg. Stan stumbled backward, the whites in his eyes expanding as blood absorbed into his jeans.
Kenny's blood.
"Oh Jesus…"
"Cartman-" Kyle started.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING JEW! YOU HAVE NO IDEA! NO IDEA AT ALL! NONE OF YOU! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I FEEL SO DON'T EVEN TRY TO USE THAT BULLSHIT TO CONSOLE ME, YOU FUCKING—FUCKING-" Cartman's wails broke as he rose to his feet, eyes narrowing into vengeful slits. "Tweek…"
Tweek stood, legs quaking as his screams began to die, voice too hoarse to scream anymore.
"TWEEK, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Cartman lunged forth, shoving through the gathered students as wide, bloodied hands encircled the boy's throat. Crimson melted onto the Tweek's throat as his windpipes closed, silenced through a lack of air.
"LET HIM GO!" Craig screamed, the first to bring a fist back and send it into Cartman's side. "Tweek had NOTHING to do with this."
"HE KNEW! THE SON OF A BITCH KNEW THEY WERE COMING TO KILL US! KENNY'S DEAD BECAUSE OF HIM! YOU HEAR THAT, YOU COWARD—KENNY'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"
A second fist connected with Cartman's side before a third. Hands encircled Cartman's torso, yanking him backward. With a strained effort, Cartman was pulled away from Tweek, now collapsing mass. As Cartman's obscenities increased, Kyle wrapped his arms around the his shoulders, refusing to let go despite the slurs of "dirty Jew." Moments passed, the profanities dying into choked sobs.
"Kenny-" he whimpered. "Kenny."
"It's okay to cry," Kyle murmured, fingers indenting the round flesh. "It's okay."
Cartman allowed himself to release, tears freely falling as his sobs ensued. "Kenny… Kenny…"
"We'll miss him," Kyle said, voice as tranquil as he could force it. "We'll miss him so much."
"He was my best friend."
"I know," he said. "He knows."
"DOES ANYONE KNOW CPR?" Token's cry interrupted the serene background as he and Craig knelt by the fallen blond's side.
"Tweek-" Craig breathed as he shook the boy's shoulders. A blue tint covered Tweek's features, eyes wide and staring up at him.
"Oh, well, I know a little about it," Butters stumbled, hand raising as if answering a question. "My mom said that you're su-supposed to pinch someone's nose and breathe in. That's what she said when I walked in on her and my Dad last year and-"
"Oh for Christ's sake," Craig snapped. He lowered his head, pinching the boy's nose as his lips connected to the other's. Three breaths. He pounded upon Tweek's chest. Three breaths. Three pounds. Repeat.
Tweek coughed, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.
"Oh God…" Craig whispered.
"I—It's my fault."
"No! You had no way of knowing. We didn't listen!" Craig said. Tweek coughed twice more.
Transfixed, Stan approached the fallen boy, eyes lifting to glance at Craig. Craig's fingers gently rubbed dried blood from the boy's throat before they guided to the back of his hair.
Perhaps it was that moment that Stan realized how similar Tweek looked to the disbanded, abused carcass of his friend.
A knot formed in his stomach as Craig's lips pressed against Tweek's forehead. "Don't leave me," Craig pleaded, voice a hoarse whisper, "Don't leave me."
Craig kissed rough—everything about him was rough from the way his teeth closed around the other's lower lip and to the way he straddled Stan's waist, to the way his hands found the other's throat, encircling tightly. The air seeped from his lungs as Stan's flailed, hands gripping onto Craig's in an attempt to loosen the other's hold.
His fingers tightened into a fist, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms.
"I told you I'd kill you if you told anyone," he hissed, allowing his hands enough slack for the other to take a short breath.
Tweek lifted a hand, delicate fingers traced Craig's cheekbones.
"Don't you know what you did?"
Stan's hands moved to cover his eyes, phalanges sliding against his scalp before the mass of black hair was bunched in his hands.
"…don't fuck with my friends."
No.
"You know why Craig beat you up, right?"
Don't fuck with my friends.
Don't fuck my friends.
Don't fuck.
My friends.
Friends.
Friend.
"I don't want to do this!"
"What are you doing to do, Clyde?"
"That's enough, Cartman-" Craig interrupted, placing a hand on Clyde's shoulder. "Just get it over with quickly, okay bud?"
No raised middle fingers. No death threats. 'Don't fuck with my friends.' It didn't make sense.
Don't fuck with my friends.
My friends.
My… friend.
The blond lifted his head, lips brushing quickly against Craig's.
"Don't fuck with Tweek."
The noxious scent of decaying carcass filled Stan's nostrils as his eyes rolled back, and then he welcomed the morning.
A/N:
I didn't mean what I said about Samuel L. Jackson in the disclaimer. You are GOD!
