Disclaimers: I don't own the South Park characters. I do own Adam, Vivian, Arrow, Marcus, Square Jaw, Snakebites and the drug Valexium.
Notes: Yay, we've passed the one year mark for CoM! Ahhh, I can't believe it's been so long and I'm still updating. This chapter took me a long, long time to write. I had months of exams, which sucked ass, and then I graduated from high school, which was great! So now I'm posting up a new chapter of CoM. I still haven't given up on this, and never will. I just love writing this too much, and I don't want to let down the people following this story. Anyway, have fun reading and please review!
Chapter Twelve
Confrontation
His room was not in the same state that he'd left it in. At first he didn't notice, throwing his jacket and keys onto his desk, only to stare in disbelief as said objects flopped onto the floor where the desk was now residing.
"What…" he blinked, not really sure how to react.
He then noticed a billiard ball buried into the ground only a few feet away from him. The shiny wooden planks were splintered and cracked, indicating that the ball had been thrown into the ground with a considerable amount of force. Looking around he noticed there were more that had been smashed into the floor and even one had managed to dent his wall next to the television. Or where the television used to be. Jaw slack with disbelief, his eyes traveled down to the hideous mess that had once been his television. Now it was a piteous heap of wires and plastic and metal that was beyond any form of repair, smashed into two pieces and hanging limply off the stand.
He switched on the lights, absorbing with complete incredulity the horrific chaos that had once been his room. Aside from the television and the floor, his bookshelf had toppled over and books had been scattered everywhere. His game consoles had been ripped to pieces and his computer had been beaten viciously.
Finally his eyes rested on the painting that had previously rested on his wall. Now it was in a sorry state, canvas shredded and frame splintered. The object that had damaged it was no mystery. He took note of the baseball bat that had been dropped carelessly next to the painting.
Panic overwhelmed him as the sudden realization that someone had broken in hit him. He whirled around, terrified at the prospect that Kenny had been in the room at the time and maybe even been hurt. Fuck, what if he was unarmed and couldn't defend himself? What if they had guns? What if-
"Kenny? Ke-"
THWACK!
He barely had time to protect his face from the massive object that came flying towards him. He stumbled backwards, cursing as it smacked into his arm and grazed the side of his head. It slammed against the wall behind him, falling to the ground. A quick glance revealed it to be a book. Before he could identify it he felt a presence in front of him and he turned, raising his fists to defend himself.
"Damien."
He found himself face to face with his boyfriend, whose fringe was covering his eyes enough so Damien could only see the bottom half of his face. He hesitated, unsure as to why Kenny had hurled this projectile at him. He could see tear tracks down his cheeks and felt his chest clench with fear.
He reached up, lifting Kenny's chin so he could get a clear look at his face. The blond boy's eyes were puffy and red from crying, rivers of tears dried on his skin. His gaze was empty, deadened and his bottom lip was slightly swollen from his having chewed on it so much. Damien reached up and gripped Kenny's shoulder, a cold wave of horror washing over his body as he realized that last time he'd seen him like this was when he'd died.
He pressed his lips to Kenny's, then drew back worriedly when there was no response. He lifted his hand, brushing his thumb against his cheek. "Kenny? Kenny, what's wrong? What happened? Did someone hurt you?" This sparked a response in the shorter boy, who blinked. His gaze lifted to meet Damien's and for a second a chill went down his spine. He wanted to grab Kenny and shake him, beg him to show some form of emotion but managed to contain himself.
"Yeah…yeah, someone hurt me," he said, his voice hoarse. Damien's skin crawled with fury.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
Kenny shook his head, shoulders trembling. He keened softly and almost pitched forward as his legs threatened to collapse under him. Damien caught him quickly, enfolding his smaller frame in his arms and gently sat him down on the edge of the bed. He kneeled in front of his boyfriend and clasped his hands firmly.
"I…I…oh God, oh God," Kenny sobbed. He struggled with his words, clenching his eyes shut. "I can't believe…I can't…"
"Shhh, shhh, calm down," he soothed. He stroked the side of the blond's face, watching as his breathing slowed and his head dropped, avoiding his lover's comforting look. "Don't be scared, I'm here for you." The change was so sudden he barely had time to process it. Kenny's head snapped up and his eyes, once lifeless, became alive with wrath. He held Damien's hand in a vise-like grip until he could almost hear his knuckles cracking under the pressure.
"You? You?"he snarled, his voice soft and deadly. He shoved the other back roughly onto the floor, displaying a surprising amount of strength. Damien fell onto the floor amidst a pile of splintered wood and glass. He winced as the edges dug into his skin painfully. "How dare you comfort me! You're the reason I'm in Hell!"
His statement was followed by a swift but effective punch to the face. Damien heard the impact more than felt it, and grunted as he went skidding back on the floor. His vision was momentarily swallowed in darkness and pain flared in his head. Dazedly he wondered if his cheekbone was broken but the dizziness faded almost immediately as he became aware of what had just happened. He watched, stunned, as Kenny stood up and approached him. Glass crunched under his feet as he neared, the look on his face completely murderous.
Damien struggled to sit up, then felt his hand brush against something. He cast it an insignificant glance, noticing that it was the book that had been thrown at him. This time he managed to recognize it for what it was. The thick, ancient cover and the worn out pages were all too familiar.
Oh shit, shit, shit, he thought, the chilling sensation of terror creeping from his center to the surface of his skin. His mind went into overdrive, thoughts swirling around his head until he felt he was going to explode from the sheer anxiety of what was happening.
Suddenly he was pushed back brusquely, hands gripping his collar until he could barely breathe. He felt soft lips brush against his ear, but unlike before this wasn't teasing or tempting. Instead of pleasure he felt nothing but sick anticipation at the hot breath against his skin and the hair tickling his jaw.
When Kenny spoke, it was a harsh whisper containing nothing but loathing. "Did you enjoy it, you bastard? Did you enjoy manipulating me, lying to me, pretending to love me? Did it make you feel good inside when you watched me falling in love with someone who doesn't fucking exist?" Every word was like a knife stabbing into his heart, sharp and deep and targeting where it hurts the most. He gritted his teeth together, trying to maintain some form of control.
"That's not what happened."
"SHUT UP!" Kenny howled, slamming him into the ground. Damien groaned, arching his back from the pain. "You son of a bitch, you killed me! You fucking killed me! Why? Why? And worse, you forced me into being your friend by acting…acting fucking friendly and being nice and caring. You told me you loved me and I believed you…fuck, I believed you…" He leaned forward, palms pressing into Damien's shoulders.
Damien sat up, forcing Kenny to slide onto his lap. His heart was beating so violently he was scared it would slam through his chest and his fingers trembled as he clutched onto his lover, as if his life depended on it. Urgently he kissed Kenny's neck, nipping at his skin and nuzzling into him. "Please, please…I wasn't lying - I love you, I love you so much." He was urged on by Kenny's moan as he nibbled on his earlobe gently.
"Stop it…stop it!" Kenny snapped, moving back until he was standing and glowering down at his boyfriend with the utmost revulsion. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me again you sick bastard!"
He backed away, as if disgusted by their contact. The look on his face was enough to make Damien's gut twist agonizingly and with difficulty he managed to stand. He stayed where he was, as if Kenny were a skittish animal ready to bolt at any second.
"Kenny, please hear me out. Let me explain."
"Explain? How could you possibly explain why you murdered me?" Damien winced. "There's nothing, absolutely nothing you could say that would make me accept this. Believe me, I have sat and thought about every possible explanation that applies to this fucked up mess of a situation. But maybe you can come up with something original, so why don't you enlighten me?" His grin was sarcastic, mocking as he turned to the son of the Devil with an expectant look. Damien was like a deer caught in headlights, unable to move or speak or do anything except stand paralyzed in the face of oncoming danger.
He willed his body to move and as he spoke he could almost hear his jaw creaking in protest. "I did it…because I was in love with you and I wanted you here with me…"
The statement fell flat, sounding so painfully weak amidst the hurricane of rage and tension. There was no way for Damien to convey the mindless hours spent distancing himself from his own world in order to be closer to Kenny's world, the nights he'd been dreaming and obsessing over the hopelessness that had been his situation or the years he'd passed watching Kenny and slowly but surely falling into the unbreakable grasp of his love. He had never been particularly good with words, but not even the most poetic phrases could be pulled together to make Kenny understand the reasoning behind his actions.
He had not seen Kenny's passage into Hell as a death, but simply as a transition into another world – his own world. For someone who could so easily travel between the borders of Hell, Earth and Heaven, he didn't really have much of an understanding of the concept of death. Damien could see someone on Earth, and then still meet them after their demise. For him there was really no difference being alive or dead. All he saw was people closing their eyes before appearing in Hell, ready to enter another world. A world that was a shit hole, but still an existence.
It had been difficult for him to reason that maybe for someone like Kenny or the rest of humanity, there was a vast difference between being alive and being dead.
Kenny's laughter was harsh and strained, as if he hadn't laughed for years and was unused to the sensation. Tears trickled out the corner of his eyes and he wiped them away quickly. "You son of a bitch. You fucking asswipe. God, I don't think you can comprehend just how fucking angry I am right now," he said. His laughter faded and he stared at Damien, clenching his fists so tightly that blood dripped down his knuckles. His whole body was quivering violently and Damien could tell that the thread of control was being pulled tight, at the very point of snapping. "How…dare you? HOW DARE YOU?"
Damien found himself pressed against the wall, under assault from wild punches and vigorous shaking as Kenny tried to hurt him as much as he possibly could in his enraged state. "You murdered me! You took me away from my friends and family because of your own fucking selfish needs!" Kenny howled. "All you cared about was for yourself! You lied to me and manipulated me into falling in love with you! YOU USED ME YOU BASTARD YOU USED ME!" His attack was powered by a sickened devastation experienced by one who had lost everything. The words were passionate yet devoid of human feeling. The hatred was beastly, animal-like and wrathful.
A particularly painful blow caught Damien on the side of his head, accompanied by a knee to his gut that forced him to curl up instinctively. The onslaught ended, leaving a bitter silence as he slowly slid to the ground. They were both breathing irregularly, one from exhaustion and the other from pain.
Kenny mumbled something indistinct under his breath, "…hate…" that made Damien's eyes widen.
"What?" He said, his breath coming out in quick gasps. "What did you say?"
"I said, I hate you. I hate you so much it hurts," Kenny said flatly. "I wish I'd never even met you." His eyes were filled with an intensity that seemed to carve a hole right through Damien's soul. The words were packed with so much loathing that Damien struggled to breathe, feeling as if his lungs were being crushed under some hideous weight. He lurched forward, arms outstretched to catch Kenny in his embrace. The other boy didn't struggle, but he didn't respond either, simply standing there stiffly.
He buried his nose in Kenny's hair, inhaling his scent and not really sure why but suddenly he felt the devastating possibility that he wouldn't have much chance to do that in the future. He gripped onto Kenny's shirt a lot tighter than was necessary, not allowing a single ray of light between them and ran a shaky hand through the blond hair that he'd played with so many times before.
He managed to choke out a few words, requiring a large amount of effort to form a coherent sentence. "Don't…don't ever say things like th-that. You don't mean it, you don't know what you're saying." There was no response. "Take it back." The command was pleading and came out as a pathetic whimper. He cringed at his own weakness but somehow the strength had just drained out of him and all he could do was hold onto the one thing he cared about. "Please take it back…"
"Never."
There was so much grief and hurt crammed into a single word that it was like a physical kick to his chest. He staggered backwards slightly, bowing his head to hide his eyes from Kenny. He heard him move to the side before walking towards the door. His steps were evenly paced and soft.
He heard the door open and this urged him to speak. "What are you going to do? You have nowhere to go, no one else to turn to." He heard a soft, hollow chuckle and became rigid, uncertain.
"I'm sure your father would be very interested in what you've been up to."
He slammed the door behind him and Damien was left trapped in a cage he had built with his very own hands.
00000
When Satan was angry, everyone knew about it. The ground didn't shake, the fires didn't flare to twice their size, the sea didn't hurl massive waves against the shores of Hell. There were no glaringly obvious signs to demonstrate that the Prince of Darkness was experiencing any sort of outstanding emotion. Everyone knew though, when Satan was angered. There was a strange undercurrent, a dull throb of something in the atmosphere that was subtle, but noticeable enough for every single being in Hell to twitch and look up questioningly.
At the moment, the anger in the room was so strong and so stifling that Kenny felt his heart pounding and his breath hitching, suffocated from the thick tension. He felt trapped in the sea of emotion that was his own and the Devil's and he found it difficult to distinguish which belonged to him.
The moment he had finished his story he had begun to regret it. Satan's expression had gone from mildly irritated – Kenny had interrupted his work – to enraged beyond all human emotion. Now he had stood and was staring out the window. He remained there for about ten minutes before finally saying something.
He spoke so softly that Kenny almost didn't hear him.
"So you're saying that my son…my son went behind my back, stole a rare book from an Ancient, performed Black Magic in order to hide himself, killed you and then lied about it all this time." It wasn't a question, simply a statement. Kenny could hear the current of fury in his voice. He nodded, before realizing that Satan couldn't see him.
"Yes…sir," he said. He wasn't sure how to address Satan.
"He dared to go against my will once, and then to defy me again by erasing the Tucker boy's name from the List. I have never had so much trouble from the boy." He reached up and rubbed his jaw, scowling in front of him. "It seems that even removing him from the throne does not deter him from causing problems. I don't have time for this."
The Prince of Darkness was considerably more formidable now than in the past. He was no longer the whiny pushover who allowed Saddam to walk all over him. There was no trace of the friendly demon who had welcomed Kenny into his home and encouraged him and his son to play together. Now he was a darkened, tainted shadow, a stain of evil that thrived on suffering and turmoil. He ruled Hell with an iron fist and a merciless state of mind that had been long buried and now resurfaced, more volatile and malicious than ever before.
Despite the numbness he was feeling, the strange lack of caring he was experiencing, he felt a shudder of fear run through every cell of his being and began to feel remorse for having exposed his now ex-lover. This new Satan would surely spare no sympathy, even for a blood relative as close as his son. That was, if he even had any sympathy to spare. Standing in front of him was a beast in the extreme, an intelligent savage.
"Who informed you of this?"
"My brother, Kevin. I don't know who told him. I…didn't ask." He refrained from mentioning that the reason he didn't ask was because he was too busy dealing with his heart breaking into what felt like a million shards, each one slicing him apart from the inside. Currently he could only feel a deep throb of pain – an aftershock that would last for eternity. "After I found out I confronted him. He admitted to it, said he did it because he loved me." He stopped himself, quickly wishing he had omitted that last part as Satan glanced at him curiously.
"He was never this rebellious before you came along." Kenny's eyes widened. The tone of Satan's voice was not accusing, but there was something he couldn't identify. "He's always been…a good kid. Until now." His mood seemed to darken visibly and Kenny fought the urge to step back. "Damn, he's more trouble than he's worth. This won't go unpunished."
The blond felt completely miserable by what he'd done. He refused to feel any concern for Damien, but deep inside he felt a small twinge of terror. He wanted revenge for what had happened, but he didn't want him to be tortured. That was a punishment he would wish upon no one. Especially not Damien.
"Sir…our deal?" he reminded, sounding about as confident as he felt. Satan's eyebrow quirked, surprised by Kenny's bravery. There were not many people who would demand something from the Prince of Darkness, no matter how small.
"Ah yes. As promised, for the identity of your murderer…" he trailed off, reaching into his drawer for a cell phone, flipping it open and searching for a contact. He watched in anticipation as Satan held the phone to his ear and began to speak:
"Marcus, get your ass over here. I have a task for you." With that he shut the phone and with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying into the mirror, which shattered into hundreds of pieces. The broken glass toppled to the floor, some of the pieces landing at Kenny's scuffed shoes. He stared at them, mesmerized by his broken reflection on the floor. He felt disconnected, apart, like the shards scattered on the floor.
A lump formed in his throat but he quickly forced it down, drawing in a shaky breath.
He was saved from his thoughts by an electric sizzling sound followed by the appearance of a skinny, twitchy young man with glasses. Kenny guessed he was in his late teens, but his face was drawn and pale making him seem older. As he watched, the man, quivering, looked around with a panicked expression.
"Bleeding…blood…red blood," he whispered, licking his lips and adjusting his glasses. He was holding a laptop limply at his side. The moment he caught sight of Satan he shrieked and jerked. The laptop clattered at Kenny's feet. He bent over to pick it up. "DON'T! Don't touch the laptop. I'll make you bleed!"
"Marcus!" Satan snarled. Marcus jumped to attention immediately.
"Yes, your Royal Darkness! Cut!"
"I want you to take Mr. McCormick and execute The Procedure within the next four hours."
"The Procedure, sir?"
"You know how it works," he said. Marcus nodded and bowed while Kenny watched all this, feeling strangely different. "I'm warning you, that if you do what you did with Anderson, I will rip your spine out of your body and hang you with it." The threat was made casually, but Kenny had no doubt that he would do so if Marcus dared disobey him. The man twitched violently and shook his head, paling until he had no color left in his cheeks.
"Yes, your D-darkness," he stammered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He turned to leave, motioning for Kenny to follow. The blond felt unsure about leaving with this strange man, then decided that it was the lesser of two evils and turned to leave.
"Oh, and Marcus?"
"Yessir? Ngh – bang, stab!"
"Make sure you give him 'extra'. Compensation for everything's he's been through," Satan said. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face Kenny and the blond felt strangely left out of the conversation. The air of mystery around the current discussion was unpleasant. Compensation? And what does he mean by extra? He pushed the thought down, not prepared to ask. Hopefully he'd be able to find out what Satan was talking about in the future. And hopefully it would be something good. "Now leave. And tell no one of this."
They left the room, walking down the hall in silence. Now away from the stifling anger Kenny was free to dwell on his own thoughts, his mind, which he had managed to clear by focusing on the deal he had struck with Satan. But now that he had done it, he felt a twinge of remorse and guilt for what he had done.
Telling Satan the truth behind his death had crossed his mind a few times after his encounter with Kevin, but there had been no point in doing so without gaining something from it. Then somehow, in a fit of twisted bravery, he decided to change his own fate. He'd struck a deal with the Prince of Darkness, dangling the identity of his murder in exchange for something that he wanted. And somehow he hadn't been struck down in madness.
But now having revealed Damien's crime, he felt like a complete traitor. There was no doubt that Satan would not torture his child; he showed no outward love for his son but Kenny was absolutely certain that he cared about his wellbeing. But he was sure that he would be able to come up with a fitting, if harsh punishment.
Kenny didn't want to face Damien knowing that he had betrayed him, hurt him in a way that was beyond physical means. He was still furious at what had happened, but after months of living with the son of Satan he understood that Damien's perspective on death was a lot less tragic and permanent than those who weren't immortal.
But that didn't mean he was forgiven. At the moment the rage wasn't all consuming, but it was burrowed deep inside for the moment, crushed under the guilt of what he'd just done.
He stopped Marcus, who had been about to round the corner. He shot him a questioning look and Kenny pointed to the hall down the right.
"I want to go get my parka. I left it in…his room," he said dully. Without hesitation they walked towards Damien's room, the ominous silence weighing heavy on both of them. Once they reached the door he steeled himself, standing there for about three minutes before summoning up the courage to make a move.
He told Marcus to stay outside and turned the doorknob, entering the room. The moment he closed the door behind him he breathed in, preparing himself for what was about to take place.
"Kenny…" He turned to face his boyfriend, a tight feeling in his chest. "You came back…"
Damien's eyes were shadowed with guilt and hurt, his hair messed up from having tugged on it in his panic. His cheeks glistened from the rivers of tears on his skin. The room was still in a messed up state, objects strewn everywhere and even more chaos than when he'd left a few hours ago. His expression was desperate and before Kenny could move, he had jumped forward, grabbing Kenny by the shoulders and kissing him firmly on the lips.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love," he whimpered, sliding an arm around Kenny's waist and burying his face into the crook of his shoulder. Kenny's lack of resistance seemed to prompt him to continue. "I love you. I love you and I'm so goddamn sorry for what I did. Please don't hate me, please don't. I can't stand the thought of you hating me. I'll do anything to make up for what I did. Anything…" He sobbed into Kenny's shoulder, clutching his shirt tightly.
Kenny groaned, feeling his willpower crumble under Damien's pleading. All of his anger seemed to dissolve as Damien brushed his lips against his ear, licking it gently. He trailed down to Kenny's mouth, nibbling his lower lip, spurred by his moans.
"Ngh…stop. Don't…don't…" he mumbled half-heartedly.
"Please…I love you so much, Kenny. Don't leave me, don't leave me," Damien muttered. Kenny reached up and grasped his thick, black hair, allowing his emotions to completely take over his senses. He felt heat pooling in his groin and shuddered from pleasure, gasping. Damien took advantage of this to slip his tongue into Kenny's mouth, exploring roughly and pressing their bodies together. His lips were burning, his whole body was burning with need. He was consumed with desire as he let Damien's tongue probe his mouth, let his hands explore his skin.
He stopped reluctantly, but wrapped his arms tightly around his love, wishing that he could erase everything that happened. "I love you too," he admitted, feeling tears escape the corners of his eyes. Damien took a shuddering breath, pulling back and stroking the side of Kenny's face. He smiled tentatively, unsurely. "But I can't stay here."
The smile dropped immediately.
"I can't stay in this house, I can't be near you. I have to go," he choked, forcing the words out between kiss-bruised lips.
"No."
"Yes. I'm leaving right now and I never want to see you again. I just came…to get my parka." He pushed Damien back, his arms feeling like water. There was no strength behind his action but the other boy stepped back anyway. The look of hurt shock on his face was enough for Kenny to feel like his heart had been ripped out. He tried to ignore the gut-wrenching pain in his stomach as he strode over to where his parka was and picked it up, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Leave it." The voice was harsh, pained. "Leave the parka…" Kenny bit his lip, clenching his eyes shut as Damien's voice broke and he gasped harshly, obviously trying to hold in his sobs. He dropped the piece of clothing back onto the floor, groaning and putting his head in his hands.
"Fuck, this is so hard. But I can't…I can't be with you anymore. You murdered me and lied to me and I can't stand it." He faced Damien, reaching up and touching his lips, trying to revel in the last moments he would have with this man who'd helped him discover true love for the first time. He didn't want to let go, didn't want to leave but he could no longer stay here. He couldn't forgive him for what he'd done. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't want to be with you anymore. I can't forgive you. So I guess that this is goodbye then."
"Kenny, please-"
"No. It's over." The words were like a physical punch as Damien hunched over, breathing hoarse and hands clutching his shirt. He shook his head in disbelief as reality seemed to hit him with an unspeakable force. He willed his legs to move and passed Damien, continuing towards the door.
He heard a soft cough and the creak of the door opening. Marcus had obviously gotten tired of waiting. He cleared his throat and Kenny winced at the rough sound, feeling strangely sensitive to noise. Maybe it's because my head is pounding and my ears are ringing so badly, he thought numbly. Damien made a noise of terror.
"Marcus…no…he's not here because…" he glanced desperately from Kenny to Marcus. The older boy nodded jerkily in confirmation. "No, Kenny. You can't…"
"Goodbye, Damien." He was no longer facing the son of the Devil, his eyes fixed upon a spot in the floor. He couldn't bring himself to look up and instead concentrated on walking out the door. Marcus closed it and caught up to him, allowing the silence to remain for a few minutes. He did not mention the tears running down Kenny's face, or his trembling form. Instead he simply directed him, stating that he needed to set up his computer before they began.
Kenny nodded, barely hearing anything through his haze of misery. His ears were still ringing and his skin felt cold. It reminded him of his former source of warmth and he felt his body jolt in reaction to his thoughts, but then a wave of wretchedness embraced him and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt so painfully, so despairingly lonely.
00000
He could only go see his son about an hour after being told the truth. He had had to call his men off the search for the culprit – without mentioning who it had been, of course. It would be expected that the person who had committed the crime of prematurely killing someone, whether demon or human, would be skinned, roasted over a slow fire and thrown into a pit of broken glass all the while experiencing a heightened sensitivity bestowed magically by the Torturers. Or something to that effect. It wasn't a fate that he wished upon Damien, but didn't want to appear weak in front of his subordinates.
He decided that he would pin the blame on some poor, unsuspecting soul and sentence that person to torture. They would also have to be blamed for stealing the magical book belonging to a very powerful Ancient. He had then spent some time informing the Ancient that his book would be restored to him and ensuring him that the criminal would not go unpunished and that once he was finished with his own punishment, he would hand the soul over to the Ancient.
That was also not a fate he wished for his son, angry as he was at his current lack of respect.
He strode down the hall, reaching the pitch-black door within seconds. Unlike the years before, when he had timidly knocked on the door, he slammed it open. The impact nearly caused the door to swing off its hinges and then vibrate, the sound echoing against the walls.
The reaction this caused was immediate. The curled form on the bed whirled around, eyes wide with hope and words formed on the boy's lips, "Kenny-", until he caught sight of his guest and visibly wilted, hunching back and flopping back down onto the bed. The sheets had been kicked away messily and he was clutching what looked like an orange jacket to his chest. He was twisting the drawstring of the hood anxiously between his fingers. "What do you want?" He mumbled this, voice muffled by the jacket. Satan ignored the rude tone and sat on the bed. It sank under his tremendous weight but held fast.
"I don't think I need to tell you how disappointed and furious I am with you," he began, keeping his voice neutral. Damien clenched his eyes shut, burying his face into the jacket and remaining silent. There was nothing he could say. "You've defied me. Not once, but twice. You stole from an Ancient, reaped a soul prematurely, lied about it and then continued to defy me by removing the name of another on The List. And why? For some…boy." His voice turned harsh, the tone he used for his subordinates when they angered him.
A flinch at the venom in his tone. "He's not just some boy." He could see the spark of defiance in his voice and the burst of annoyance that followed his comment. It was short-lived and Damien went back to his lifeless demeanor.
"Nevertheless, you deliberately disobeyed my orders and the Laws of the Underworld. My ruling has always dealt with…criminals using torture methods. I believe you remember what happened with the Stoffel Brothers." This produced a noticeable reaction. Damien jerked out of his stupor and stared at him, eyes wide with naked fear at the mention of the two men that Satan had branded traitors after an attempt to overthrow him. Their humiliation had been very sickening and very public. And Damien had had a front row seat as an informal lesson on how to deal with lawbreakers.
Needless to say, it was not obviously something he desired to experience. Satan put up a hand to calm his fears. "As my son, I cannot allow this to happen. Instead you will be stripped of all privileges given to you. All the men under your command now answer to only me. You no longer have power over anyone. Your account will be frozen and for the next six months you will have no money to spend. You will not be allowed to leave the borders of Hell without my permission. You will remain in this house for three months with no contact with anyone outside these walls. You will not use your powers without my say so. Is that clear?"
Damien's eyes flickered towards him and he nodded. Some life seemed to have sparked inside of him at these words and he shifted so he was facing Satan, dull eyes locking onto savage ones.
"Consider yourself lucky you aren't suffering worse punishment for what you have done. I have told no one of your crimes, and it would be wise that you say nothing too. I'm the Ruler of Hell, but if my men were to hear of how little you have paid for what you have done there would be bitterness in the ranks and I am not able to watch over you all the time."
He stood up, finished with what he had to say. He surveyed the room without comment, taking note of all the broken furniture and damaged walls. He wasn't sure whether it was Damien or Kenny who had caused this damage, but it was certainly the product of fury and if he had to hazard a guess, he would say that it was the blond-haired boy who had caused this chaos. He'd caused nothing but chaos since his arrival.
He wondered what kind of person the McCormick boy was, to have his son so tangled up in a web of deception and agony and love. He'd never seen someone have such an effect on his son and he felt vaguely curious as to how he had managed to get Damien so hooked.
I'm not sure if this is healthy, he thought with a hint of amusement. After all, it wasn't as if Damien could die. And after years of being exposed to so many sickening personalities, the boy had developed a strange resilience to all things that could hurt him. Except for love, apparently. Nothing can prepare a person for that.
Feeling a strange sort of fondness he lifted a massive, red hand and placed it affectionately on Damien's head. His son raised shadowed eyes to him, showing a hint of surprise at this action. After a few seconds of silence, his hand traveled down to Damien's shirt and he clutched it tightly. Not enough to restrict his breathing but enough to emphasize the point he was going to make next.
"I swear to all that is unholy, boy, that if you dare cross me again I won't be so lenient with my punishment. I'll string you up by your intestines in front of everybody, if that's what it takes to make you stop defying me," he snarled. The threat was real enough, but there was no real venom behind his voice. He didn't truly believe that Damien would continue to go behind his back after all that had happened.
He turned to leave when Damien's voice stopped him.
"Have you ever…felt like this…sir?" His voice was scratchy and hoarse, indicating that he had been crying for quite a while before Satan arrived. The way he addressed his father was the way he had always done after the Devil's transformation. He hadn't suggested it but he'd never said anything to discourage him from using it. Now though, it sounded strangely inappropriate and out-of-place.
He paused, uncertain of how to answer such a question. Any other time he would have slapped his son for asking such a personal question. If there was one thing that Satan could not stand, it was a question about his love life. Damien knew not to ask, considering he was aware of what had triggered Satan's change into a ruthless tyrant. But at the moment he couldn't bring himself to muster up any anger and instead just nodded.
"Yes," he confessed. "But it was a long time ago." He continued towards the door, stepping over the clothes strewn on the ground. "I'll send the maids in to clean this mess up tomorrow." And with that he was gone, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. For the third time, Damien was left alone in his room.
He made no noise once the door had been shut, just curled up even more around the parka that was the only real thing he had left. Every once in a while he inhaled the lovely scent that reminded him so much of…Kenny. Fuck, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Once again he felt that hideous ache that had been plaguing him since the hours that Kenny had left. It bubbled up inside him with an unimaginable speed and he could almost feel his head exploding from the sheer agony.
His thoughts were consciously being pushed down to the back of his mind as he tried to focus completely on the darkness and the smell of Kenny's parka. It was a lovely, unique scent – strangely clean and smelling of soap. The blond had always taken care of his orange parka – he'd treasured it above all other material possessions. Even when he had been poor, he'd told Damien, he had made sure to wash it regularly.
Now Damien held it like it was the most precious thing in the world, intent on keeping it as close to him as possible. Feeling the tears slowly build in the corners of his eyes, he breathed in the scent of the parka once more and stayed still until he finally fell asleep. He was so deeply trapped in his dreams that he didn't feel the electric jolt that went through everybody indicating that 'The Procedure' had taken place.
A few minutes after Damien had fallen asleep, Marcus shut down his computer, satisfied that he had done his job correctly. He motioned to Vivian to pick up her shovel and she did so, signaling that she was ready to go.
At that very moment on Earth, in South Park Cemetery that was located on the outskirts of the small town, Kenny McCormick awoke in his coffin.
He took one look around, noting that he was in complete darkness. It took less than a second to realize that he was trapped in his own grave.
"Oh…shit."
