Author Note: OMG, I can't believe it – the last chapter got the most reviews for any single chapter of any SP story I've ever posted! Huge thanks to mah awesome reviewers: Mizuni-no-neko, Bexi, hikaru h, Akatsuki Feathers, Mrs. Pirrup, Hayze-Chan, KittyBePraised, Bethany C. MacKenzie, and Kaz Hiroku! I love you guys so much!
I'm so happy that everyone liked the last chapter so much, in spite of the cliffhanger – but I got a feeling that this chapter won't go down quite as well. So, please remember the warnings that were given at the start of the story and an added one; don't eat while you read. Ickiness ahead.
The next chapter will be the last one. I've already written it – several times. I keep changing my mind about what happens. I'm afraid of commitment, lol. Please review!
~:~
Tear me open, make you gone, no more will you hurt anyone. But the fear still shakes me, so hold me...
~:~
Damien knew enough to keep his eyes closed. He had Asmodeus trapped, although it was in himself, and he wasn't about to let it go. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have any experience in being possessed and although he was managing to fight off Asmodeus for the moment, the demon was struggling for control.
It couldn't be allowed to gain control, even for a moment.
Asmodeus could do plenty of harm, even in the constraints of the human form. If he had the powers of the Antichrist, there would be no stopping it. If it were able to gain control, it would know all the things Damien knew, including plenty about Hell. It would have the knowledge to challenge Satan for dominance, or more likely, to use the information in support of a stronger demon who might pose a real threat. A war in Hell would cause real trouble not only in that realm, but also on Earth as each side looked to strengthen its numbers.
But before all that, it would turn on Damien's mortal accomplices. Kenny and Christophe would die immediately. But if Asmodeus knew everything about Damien, then it would know about his conflicting emotions about Pip and that would promise the boy a long, drawn-out, painful death, one brought about by Damien's hands, if not by his intent.
So Damien fought.
He was stronger than it was, it was just a lesser demon and he was the Antichrist – but Asmodeus was desperate and had absolutely nothing to lose. It was fighting for its freedom, its very survival, and there was no struggle more critical than that.
And there was the not-so-small matter of what he was going to do with the demon once it was under control.
~:~:~:~
"Damien."
Its voice is mocking, cold, hiding well its fear. It jumped with no thought of the consequences, knowing only that its host was dying and it had to leave before being entangled with the soul. But now it is engaged in battle with a far stronger being, a battle it is afraid it will lose.
It does not want to go back to Hell. It has to use the only weapons it has – its experience compared to Damien's lack thereof, its persuasiveness, its limited knowledge of how the Antichrist thinks, what he wants.
"Damien. Think of the havoc I can unleash on the mortal world. The chaos, the confusion, the glorious destruction. Do you not want that?"
"Forget it demon." Damien sounds distinctly unimpressed. "Satan wants you home again. I'm gonna bring you back."
Panicking, it tries to bury into Damien's subconscious, but is prevented. Damien knows its tricks, can fend him off more easily than a mortal can. It barely scrapes the surface of his thoughts – but then, there is one person at the forefront of Damien's mind. And maybe that will be all it needs.
"Back to Hell. Away from the mortals for both of us. Away from...Pip."
Damien's voice is low and dangerous. "Don't go there."
It relaxes slightly. This is more familiar territory, using its wiles to urge the host into seeing things its way. "I've been in his mind Damien. Into his memories, his subconscious. I know things about Pip that you never will. Set me free and I can share what I found there with you. Set me free and you'll be able to discover everything about him, know what he wants, what he needs, why he is the way he is. Isn't that what you want?"
It senses Damien wavering and allows a thrill of triumph to overcome itself. "Without me, you'll always wonder. You'll never know more than what he chooses to show you – which will be exactly nothing, because you'll be in Hell and he'll be running from this time for the rest of his life. Only I can grant you this."
It feels Damien's resolve set and for a moment it believes it has won the Antichrist over.
But only for a moment.
"Without you, Pip wouldn't be running. Without you, Pip wouldn't be hurt. And do you know what I do to those who hurt Pip?"
Terror overtakes it and it tries to take Damien's mind by force, only to find no purchase there.
"...I send them to Hell."
It screams, knowing it has no power, no choice. That its only chance now is to jump...
And then it realises that something has happened and Damien has been distracted. Now, it is able to see through the eyes of the Antichrist and the view is of dark pupils, irises as calm and blue as the sky.
It jumps.
~:~:~:~
Pip turned and ran for the car the moment he realised Asmodeus had jumped to Damien, his absence barely noticed by Kenny and Christophe. The Mole had nothing that could truly harm Damien, whatever battle tactics he had at his disposal would be all but useless against a being of Damien's power. If Asmodeus overtook Damien, it would tear the world apart, starting with the three of them. And if the demon was able to do to Damien what it had done to him – read his mind, his thoughts, his innermost desires – then it would twist those things and use them against him.
It wasn't going to happen, Pip vowed. No one was going to harm Damien in that way, no one. What happened to the world was the least of his concerns. As long as there was breath in his body, he was going to do all he could to protect Damien.
The trouble was, he feared he wouldn't be able to do what he had to.
Pulling open the passenger side door, Pip yanked open the glove compartment and found the dagger of Megiddo right away. He grabbed it, examining it. It was ornate and old, older than Damien himself, forged when his birth had been prophesied. The damn thing had been playing on his mind ever since the conversation in the car the previous day.
"What the hell else is in there, or shouldn't I ask?"
"Probably not. Just the usual stuff anyway – mints, sunglasses, dagger of Megiddo, maps, underpants and change."
"Underpants?"
"It's just a precaution."
"And the dagger?"
"All seven together could kill me, so I keep them scattered where humans can't find them."
"Can I..."
"No."
The only things that with which a mortal could kill the Antichrist, should such a precaution be needed, according to Damien. But he had mentioned seven, this was only one.
The bottles of holy water still remained in the car, also stashed in the glove compartment, and Pip took one, willing his hands to stop shaking. He poured the entire contents over the dagger, the water gushing out to soak the blade and most of his left arm, dribbling to coat his right hand. He paused to wipe his palms on his jeans and adjusted his grip, racing over to where Damien was stood, head bowed, obscured by his arms. There was some terrible inner battle going on with the Antichrist; the air crackled with static and the sudden change in air pressure was sending dull pains through the heads of the observers.
Please God, prayed Pip silently. I know I don't deserve help, I know you don't have a reason to help him, but please, PLEASE let me do this right, please let this work, please don't let me mess this one up, please...
Kenny realised Pip's intention and started running toward him, yelling in spite of the pain spiking in his head. "Pip, no!"
Too late. Pip gripped the dagger and with a sweeping upward motion, drove it deep into Damien's ribcage.
The atmospheric pressure suddenly became unbearable. Kenny collapsed to the floor, raising his hands to cover his face, blood erupting from his nose and soaking into his parka. Christophe staggered backward and fell to his knees, covering his ears, eyes closed for fear they would just burst out of his head. But Pip gritted his teeth and ignored it, never releasing his hold on the dagger.
Damien's arm fell and showed his face, his typical pallor becoming impossibly more pronounced, shock carved into his features. He swayed, his red eyes meeting Pip's with dazed incomprehension.
"Pip...?"
"Damien." Pip's voice was sad but sure. "I'm sorry."
There was a spark of something in Damien's eyes, a malignant force that seemed to leap from the red orbs and was gone.
And then those eyes clouded over and Damien collapsed at Pip's feet.
I killed him,thought Pip numbly. I killed him and I loved him and this HAS to work, it HAS to, please God, this can't be for nothing, oh please LET THIS WORK –
Behind his eyes, he felt the familiar, unwelcome presence of Asmodeus and clenched his fists, tears starting in his eyes, awaiting the possession...
...And then his hands, drenched in holy water, burst into flame.
For a second, Pip had the image of Damien, the way he could control the fire without it injuring him, the way he stood confident and intimidating with his palms ablaze. But then the pain started, searing agony as the fire ate into his flesh.
Pip screamed and in his head, Asmodeus screamed along with him, beating around in his subconscious like a panicked bird. The pain and the divinity of the cause was holding it off for the moment, but that would change as soon as it recovered from the shock and took control.
Dimly, Pip could hear a voice screaming his name – Kenny probably, it sounded like Kenny – but he didn't look. If he looked, he would lose his nerve. Instead, he glanced down at the silent, cold form of Damien, the dagger protruding from his chest.
And he smiled.
Please God please, oh it HURTS, please oh Damien I'm sorry, God, let me have ONE MORE SECOND –
Before his sense of self-preservation could kick in, Pip opened his eyes wide, tears of pain and sadness flowing freely, and hooked his burning fingers into them.
The flames that danced up his arms burned at his face, melting his flesh. His hair caught fire, highlighting the tableau in a hellish halo, until there was nothing left but his blistering, bald scalp.
And that pain, that agony, was nothing compared to what was happening to his eyes.
The fire seared his eyeballs, turning the blue orbs milky white before they simply burned, melting into gelatinous puddles within empty sockets, leaving Pip blind.
And leaving Asmodeus with nowhere to go.
In spite of the pain, Pip could feel the demon seize control as soon as it realised what his actions meant, taking over his body and taking several jerky steps, unable to see where it was going. And then it abandoned Pip to deal with the agony alone, taking refuge within his subconscious, knowing it was all over.
Pip fell to his knees, screaming uncontrollably through lips that were blistered and burnt, but in the extremities of his anguish he wondered if the pain had driven him out of his mind, because to his own ears, his screams sounded like insane laughter.
~:~
Christophe heard Kenny yelling for Pip and opened his eyes to a vision of Hell.
The boy was burning, although Christophe could see no source of the flames. The fire was illuminating every injury in flickering clarity. And he was screaming; broadcasting his agony.
Struggling to his feet, Christophe reached for the gun in his belt. If he was right, then not only was Pip possessed, but he was in horrific pain. There was only one thing the mercenary could do, display some mercy.
His fingers brushed the gun and he wrapped his fingers around it, not taking his eyes from the sight in front of him.
Pip plunged his hands into his eyes.
Nauseated, fighting back bile, Christophe froze. The blondes screams redoubled, the flames setting alight his hair, scorching his face. For a moment, he tried to walk, then sank to his knees beside Damien's unmoving body.
Aiming his weapon, the Mole pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit Pip between the empty holes that had once housed his eyes. The force knocked his body backward, toppling into the snow, which seemed to affect the flames and douse them almost totally. The Mole tightened his lips and started forward to confirm the kill, running on autopilot, letting the mercenary take over and not considering the implications of what he had just done.
"No!"
Kenny scrambled to his feet, racing toward Pip's still-smouldering body. With a curse, Christophe hurried after him, thinking he ought to stop Kenny before he saw the worst of what had happened – although it was probably pointless, Kenny had seen much worse during his life and his many deaths.
Kneeling beside Pip's body, Kenny gathered the snow and used it to extinguish the last of the flames, which went out with an ease belied by their previous ferocity. He reached a hand out to touch Pip's lifeless body, some idea that he ought to do something flitting in his mind, then he pulled it back, helpless in the face of such total devastation. Pip's previously unmarked face was a charred mess, eyes empty, hair burned away. His arms were in equally bad condition, the trails where the fire had taken hold obvious. The boy was unrecognisable.
Sprawled in the snow beside the human ruin that had been Pip Pirrup, Damien looked truly peaceful for the first time in all Kenny's long association with him. His red eyes were closed, his face relaxed, no sign of his usual sulky frown or arrogant smirk. The dagger protruded from his chest, a surprisingly small amount of blood trickling from the wound. He might have finally been asleep, but Kenny knew better.
Kenny bowed his head, wishing he could think of something to say or do, but his mind was blank, his ears still ringing with Pip's final screams and the gunshot that had ended it all. Then a hand fell onto his shoulder and he looked up through a prism caused by his tears to see Christophe. The Mole knelt beside him, looking solemn, then reached out to take Damien's pulse. Satisfied there was no sign of a heartbeat, he turned his attention to Pip, giving him the same treatment. Kenny almost laughed. He couldn't think the boy could have survived all that, surely.
When the Mole took his fingers away from the pulse point on Pip's neck, a blackened section of skin slid off the corpse and Kenny had to fight back the urge to throw up. He pressed his lips together, tasting the blood that had burst from his nose, sickened by the coppery, thick taste. After the activity that had gone on before, the mountain seemed surprisingly silent.
"Notre Pere, qui etes aux cieux," began Christophe and it took Kenny a moment to realise that the words were the beginning of a prayer. "Priez pour nous, pauv pecheurs maint'ant et a l'heure de notre mort. Ainsi soit-il."
"Amen," said Kenny quietly.
They knelt there for several seconds more in silence, unmindful of the snow, then Christophe stood, extending a hand to pull Kenny up too. "We must leave. We may 'ave attracted attention."
Kenny hesitated, pulling down his hood to wipe tears and blood from his face with the back of his hand. "What about them?"
"We bury zem," replied Christophe. "But not 'ere. Can you 'elp me put zem in the car?"
Nodding, Kenny steeled himself to deal with the unpleasant remains of Pip, but Christophe apparently read his thoughts and after backing the car closer to the bodies, dealt with the burned corspe himself, letting Kenny struggle with Damien's deceptively heavy form. Putting them in the trunk of the car didn't feel right, but having them in the main body of the car was an even less appealing thought. And there was less chance of anyone noticing a problem if they were out of sight.
Once that was over with, Kenny looked back at the third corpse, the man they had chased here while he was possessed by the demon. "What about that guy?"
Walking over to the body, Christophe spent a few moments looking at it. "We leave it 'ere. Damien broke 'is neck, it will look like an accident. And zis way, 'e will be found."
"Found too late."
"It's ze best we can do. Let's get out of 'ere. I doubt we 'ave demonic immunity anymore."
Christophe drove, Kenny dealing with the worst of his nosebleed by using one of the remaining bottles of holy water, wondering if it was sacrilegious to do so and then deciding he didn't really care. There was blood soaked into the hood of his parka and he kept it down, watching the landmarks pass by as Christophe drove without speaking. It was quite possibly the longest day of his life and it was far from over.
The mountains surrounding South Park boasted many wooded areas and without asking, Christophe chose to head to one of these. The car made the treacherous roads easily, headlights displaying no more life than a few birds. By the time the Mole stopped the car, they were almost back in South Park but far from sight of the town. The perfect spot for a little digging.
Christophe dug the grave rapidly, Kenny leaning against the car and watching, offers to help refused. There were no other words passed between them until the hole was ready.
"Do I need to dig another?" asked Christophe.
Kenny shook his head. "Better this way."
They buried the bodies, Damien and Pip laying in the same spot. Christophe didn't suggest any way to mark the grave and Kenny decided that might be for the best; allowing their remains to be undisturbed.
This time, there were no prayers.
Kenny imagined the future, six months from now, a year, five, ten. The softly falling snow would cover the freshly dug area, melting as the weather warmed, the grass covering it until there was no sign that it had ever been disturbed. The media would publish Pip's picture in the news for a few days then forget all about him, save for the occasional squib about wanted criminals. No one in South Park would even know he was dead, save for Kenny and Christophe. None of them would realise what had happened to him, assuming he had escaped justice and gone into hiding.
What would happen to Damien, Kenny didn't know. The rules were different for Damien, just as they were different for him.
Christophe took out his cigarettes, lit two and handed one of them to Kenny. The packet was getting severely depleted. Kenny took the cancer stick gratefully and inhaled as if he would never pause for breath.
"I wish it could have been different," said Kenny eventually. "I told Damien he was going to screw Pip up, but in the end – I don't know. Damien seemed really confused about his own behaviour and Pip was really serene about it. I can't believe he did that. I just can't."
"Killed himself for ze good of others?" Christophe exhaled a cloud of smoke, made more substantial by his breath fogging the air. "I would 'ave thought you were no stranger to such behaviour."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"Because I come back! It doesn't matter if I die, or when, or how. But Pip's gone for good."
Christophe thought about this for a moment. "Oui, 'e is gone. But 'ow do you know ze next time you die, you won't be gone too?"
Kenny glanced at him and Christophe shrugged. "God is a beetch, 'e treats us like dicks and jerks us around for 'is amusement. Zat is ze only thing we can count on in life. You might think you can always come back, zen find out one day that you 'ave used up all your chances. God likes to fuck around like zat."
"I dunno. I can't imagine not coming back."
"Most people can't imagine dying at all. It is ze same thing. And maybe you 'ave ze advantage over ze rest of ze world because you know what 'appens after death. Or maybe zey 'ave the advantage over you, because you 'ave forgotten 'ow to appreciate 'aving a life. It might be better for Pip that 'e does not come back. Zere is not much for 'im 'ere. Maybe it is better where 'e is now."
"I wish he hadn't died like that," said Kenny shakily. "Burning to death hurts like a bitch."
"Sometimes, ze best we can 'ope for is a few moments of 'appiness and someone who 'as a good aim when ze time comes. At least 'e got zat." Christophe flicked the cigarette away. "Get in, I will take you 'ome."
Kenny dropped the cigarette and got into the car, wondering if he would even be able to remember where this place was once they were gone and if he would return if he did. "When did you become a philosopher anyway?"
Christophe started the engine. "I live a dangerous life. It is better to be at peace with zese things. Pass me ze 'oly water."
Kenny stared. "You're going to drink the holy water."
"Zere is nothing else and I just dug a big fucking 'ole. I'm thirsty."
Kenny opened the glove compartment and frowned as he noticed the envelope beneath the bottles. "This wasn't here before."
Glancing over and seeing the envelope, Christophe hit the brakes. "Don't open zat. It could be dangerous."
"If demonic forces wanted rid of us, I don't think they'd bother with a letter bomb." Kenny tore the envelope open and his eyes widened. "Holy shit!"
"What?"
Kenny pulled out a handful of crisp twenty-dollar bills. "Looks like you're getting paid after all."
The thought of the money he had been promised hadn't even occurred to the Mole until then. "Damn. Zis must mean zat Damien is still around, somewhere."
"A wire transfer from Hell. Most people would have sent a card."
Christophe accepted the envelope as Kenny handed it to him and looked at the contents, considering. "Uh, 'alf of zis is yours."
Kenny shook his head emphatically. "I never got paid for the shit I did for Heaven and Hell before. I wouldn't feel right about taking it. I'd probably just spend it all on my 'bad habits' anyway."
With a shrug, Christophe dropped the envelope on the dash and drove off toward South Park.
~:~
"We're 'ere," said Christophe as they pulled up outside Kenny's house. Kenny, lost in thought, hadn't even seemed to notice.
"Yeah. Thanks for the ride." Kenny opened the car door and paused. "Oh, Damien said the car tends to fade out after a few hours, so don't freak if it's not there in the morning."
"You could 'ave told me zis before."
"Sorry," said Kenny, but the look in his eyes suggested that he was more amused than sorry. "See you around then. Thanks for everything."
"Your parents won't be pissed zat you 'ave been missing for two days?"
"Nah. They'll just think I was dead or something." Kenny stepped out of the car and trudged toward the house, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Christophe watched him go, wondering what it was like to be on the fringes of existence like that. There but not-there, famous and anonymous. He tried to hide it, but Kenny wore his solitude and confusion like an aura.
Dammit.
Christophe wound down the window. "Hey, Kenny?"
Kenny stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
Waving the envelope of money, Christophe grinned. "You want to take another day off dead, 'ire some movies and smoke all my cigarettes again?"
After considering the offer for about half a second, Kenny jogged back over to the car and jumped in. "Real movies though, no subtitles."
"Huh, if we must. But zere must be explosions, none of zis pussy emo shit."
"You drive a hard bargain. Anything else?"
"Oui. Take off zat fucking 'ood. It's been annoying me for days."
Kenny rolled his eyes but complied with the request as the car rolled away. Briefly, his mind wandered back to the money, the sign that Damien's spirit was still around, even though his body on Earth had been killed.
He wondered what had become of Pip's soul.
He knew better than most that death was not the end, but it was the first time he had faced the uncertainty of not knowing the ultimate fate of another person. Maybe he would find out from Damien, the next time he died.
Hopefully, that wouldn't be for a while.