Author's Note: First off, I just want to thank all who reviewed. I really didn't expect that many, especially for the prologue, but it made me happy. Every single review made me smile and aww. -feels loved- You all know who you are.

Now, this chapter might not make sense at first but I'm still setting things up and yeah. Woohoo for randomness! Don't expect this chapter to be as creative as the last, it's in a totally new direction than the prologue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing...except for Lazarus! Haha hooray for Laz.

Title: Bitter Compound

Chapter One: Alkaloid

It was the jumpstart of the day, the one thing that never failed to get him out of bed and dressed. It was his best friend, and at times his only friend, and it would never let him down. It would never hurt him or cause him pain, just as long as he had more coffee beans when the coffee ran out.

His bedroom door creaked open, allowing unwanted light to pour in through the widening crack and causing his eyes to clamp together tightly. The figure of his mother appeared in the doorway, blocking some of the light. "Tweek, honey," she cooed. "It's time to get up. Your father's got a mug of Pumpkin Spice poured for you."

The boy groaned before rolling lazily out of the oh-so-comfortable bed, shuffling towards the doorway and down the steps behind his mother. They entered the kitchen where his father set a mug at Tweek's usual seat. Neither of his parents dared to look at him, and he knew it must have happened again.

He sat in the seat, staring at the table in a zombie-like fashion. Huge bags hung heavily from underneath his cool gray eyes, his face pale and weak. He yawned, finishing it off with an impromptu 'yah!' and put his shaky hands around the hot mug, sipping gratefully at it. He glanced at his parents who moved nervously about the kitchen, avoiding every chance to glance at him. He sighed almost sadly and stared into the mug of coffee at the vibrating boy staring back at him. His left eye twitched as he stared at his reflection, the memory of the night before suddenly coming back to him.

It was a reoccurring nightmare; one that never ceased to terrify him in his sleep and send him into fits of sleep-screams and thrashing. They were so violent and loud they woke his parents up, who then would cower in fear in their own beds, too afraid of their own son to wake him up and tell him it was all a dream, and that monsters weren't real. Instead they'd huddle together, heads resting on each other, and shut their ears out to their troubled son. No one ever woke Tweek up during his fits of terror, they were too afraid of what he would do in that frenzied state of mind. However, Tweek was hardly aware of his screams, and in the morning he sometimes forgot the dreams. Sometimes the only clues regarding his violent shakes were the bruises he had earned from banging the headboard. He had these dreams almost every other night, and they were the skeletons in the Tweaks' closet.

After a short while, Mrs. Tweak spoke. "Hurry up, dear. Go get dressed and brush your teeth, and for God's sake, do something with that hair! I'll drive you to school." She knew two things; nothing I could /I be done with his hair, and there was no way her son would be riding the bus or driving to school. The latter would result in a car crash and the former would result in someone beating him up. As far as his hair was concerned, the damned thing had a mind of it's own. A brush couldn't go through it. Scissors couldn't trim it, and gel or hairspray would only make his hair tougher. Once they shaved it off, giving him a buzz cut, but it didn't last long. His hair grew back in such a rapid state that it grew back even thicker. They just had to learn how to live with it.

He nodded shakily and hopped from his seat, bouncing up the stairs with his new caffeine high. Throwing on a raggedy red hoody and some old jeans, he slipped his shoes on and came down the stairs with his bag over his shoulder.

"Tweek, honey, grab an apple or something. I don't want you going to school with just a cup of coffee in your stomach. You could get sick."

"Oh God!" he chirped, dashing into the kitchen and grabbing a granny smith.

"No, Tweek," his mother snapped, smacking his hand and causing him to drop the apple. "Granny Smith apples are too sour for you. You're bouncy enough as it is, you won't be able to handle it." She offered him a motherly smile and handed him a red delicious. "There, nice and sweet for my little sweetheart," she added, pinching Tweek's cheek lovingly.

"Stop it, Ma! What if the guys were over here!"

"Oh," she chuckled, "They wouldn't care. Craig and his little band of rogues are nothing but sweethearts."

"You don't know them, Ma, they'd make fun of me. Jesus, they'd probably bash my head in a locker or something."

"Oh, sweetie, they wouldn't do that. Now, go get in the car so we won't be late," she ordered. Tweek obeyed, sitting in the front seat beside his mother. They drove in silence, neither of them talking for quite some time.

"It happened again, didn't it?" Tweek asked randomly, staring out his window. His mother sighed heavily before answering.

"Yes."

He didn't acknowledge her response, but continued to stare out at the black and yellow rolling underneath the car. It had happened everyday that week, making the latest occurrence the fifth one in a row. He sighed through clenched teeth and rested his cheek in the palm of his hand. The outline of the high school suddenly became apparent to him, but he otherwise ignored it.

"Did you remember your lunch money?" His mother asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Yes," he replied apathetically, blinking.

"Are you still going to that movie with Craig after school?"

Tweek nodded.

"Who else is going?"

He thought for a moment, afraid to forget someone and leave them out. "Clyde, uh, Token, uh, oh God, who else? Butters might be going. And Kevin."

His mother scowled. "I don't like that Kevin boy. And that Butters is trouble."

"Jesus mom, so what? You have to let me go!"

She sighed. "I wasn't going to tell you that you couldn't go. I was just saying I'm not too fond of that Leopold Stotch." The car pulled up in front of the school and slowed. "Alright, honey. Call me if you're going to be out later, alright?"

"Okay, okay," Tweek said quickly, not wanting to be seen with his mother. "Bye." Mrs. Tweak frowned and drove off.

"Hey, Mama's Boy," came the familiar nasal-sounding laugh. Tweek didn't have to turn around to know that it was Craig standing behind him with that joking smirk of his. He felt an arm around his shoulder and saw the familiar blue arm snaking over his arm.

"Hi Craig," he responded bleakly.

"Hey chump," Craig said, shoving Tweek away with a playful grin. "We all decided to see that Emily Rose movie."

"You mean the one about the possessed chick!"

"Yeah, that one," Craig nodded.

"Dammit, Craig, you know I don't like possessed things!"

Chuckling, Craig responded, "Dude, calm down. It's not like the girl is actually possessed."

"But it's based on a true story!"

Craig sighed, trying his hardest not to give up on his friend. "Yeah, it's based on the people who are fucktards and are way over-Christian and think that if someone got a cold it's because they didn't sacrifice their soulless dog to God."

Tweek mimicked Craig's sigh. "Alright, I'll go, but I'm not promising I'll like it. I'm only going so the other guys won't make fun of me."

"Best reason to go," Craig smiled, throwing his arm around Tweek's shoulders and leading him into the school.

"I don't know why I put up with you, Craig," Tweek sighed, allowing Craig to usher him inside the school. "You're always forcing me to do these creepy things with you. I don't want to see scary movies, I don't want to graffiti buildings, and I don't want to sneak into the girls bathroom with you and Kenny."

Laughing, Craig shoved him again. "What? Would you prefer to see March of the Penguins?"

"Actually, yeah," he replied annoyedly, twitching. "What's wrong with that?"

"God you're such a pussy," Craig responded, shaking his head. "Some things never change."

"Oh God," Tweek muttered, clamping his trembling fingers around his hair. I just know I failed this test. Oh God, oh Jesus, Dad's gonna kill me. God dammit."

He was made aware of a packet of papers turned facedown on his desk. He glanced at the teacher who had moved onto Bertha, shaking his head with three clicks of his tongue and setting a similar packet in the same position. Tweek took a deep breath, reaching for the papers. Clamping his eyes shut, he fumbled around until the paper was face up. "I don't want to look. It's a number that will determine my grade for this class which will then determine my future which in turn will determine how I die!"

"Calm down Tweek," came the familiar nasally whisper in his ear, as if it were his sanity speaking to him. In reality it was just Craig leaning over Tweek's shoulder from behind, but to Tweek it was all the same. Craig saw the red 93 percent circled on the top of Tweek'' page, but having his eyes close, Tweek was unable to decipher said grade. "I don't think it'll hurt you too much to look at it, Tweeky."

Comforted by the soothing tone of Craig's annoyed voice, Tweek slowly opened an eye. Seeing the 93, he sighed with relief and relaxed, opening both eyes. He held the paper high where he could examine it better, he couldn't help the small, proud smile that was hardly visible on his lips. Craig, however, noticed it and slapped Tweek's back proudly.

"Congrats, bud. You made me study all night with you, and you get an 'A.' All I got was a measly 69 percent," they both heard a chuckle from their left and knew instantly it was Kenny. Ignoring his immaturity, Craig continued. "See, Tweek? I told you that you wouldn't have problems with this geometry test. I, on the other hand, am a complete retard when it comes to numbers and formulas and squares. Squares are bitches, man, and I don't see why the fuck we have to take a class about god-damnsquares." He sighed, slouching back in his seat. "Thank God school is almost over, we can finally go to the movie. I need some relaxation after this strenuous day."

Tweek simply sat there quietly, shaking softly in his seat. True, he wasn't looking forward to watching a movie with a girl screaming out in a demonic voice, but he was excited to spend some quality time with Craig and the 'gang.' They had asked around to see who was going to the movie, and it was confirmed that Clyde, Butters, Kevin, and Token were all joining Tweek and Craig at the movie, so the poor caffeinated boy would have to sit and grit his teeth or pull on his hair until the demonic girl shut her trap.

The town seemed to lack a certain necessary intelligence that towns usually thrived on. No, this town was filled with blasphemous, seemingly retarded people who loved congregating in over-sized crowds, shouting inaudible 'rabbles.'

Damien never understood why this town was as popular as it was. It was filled with hicks and morons, and lacked adult intelligence. It always bothered him (but sometimes he had to admit their antics were knee-slappers) that the true intelligence resided in the children and the teenagers that weren't completely hormone-ridden; but these kids weren't his type. They were superficial and valued the lower things in life. They only worried about who could get laid the most or whose iPOD was the best.

However, there were some people Damien could stand. Despite the annoyances supplied with him, Kenny proved to be a decent person who was just a bit misguided. He also held an interest in Pip, the shy, fast-speaking Brit. who never stood up for himself. At first this annoyed Damien, but he found out he actually pitied the poor lad, and hoped that he somehow found a way to make himself even slightly respected.

Lazarus trotted close by Damien's side as they walked through the streets, unseen and unfelt by anyone. This was because of Damien's ability to make themselves invisible to those that he wanted to be ignored by, and that was everyone. He turned his nose up in disgust at the sights of the actions of these South Park civilians. Some stole, some attacked others, and some were just plain snogging in public. However this seemed to go unnoticed to anyone. It was a shame, really, how these rude and vile acts had grown to become acceptable.

A familiar squeaky voice caught his attention, and he scanned the streets to find Pip pressed against a wall, barely able to protest against his attackers. Two punks, who seemed to be about Pip's age, held him against the wall and sought out valuables. Finding nothing, they growled with anger and threw a sharp punch across the poor boy's face. Perhaps it was the way they hit him constantly, or the way Pip never made a sound, but something about it broke Damien's unbeating heart.

As if he could sense the deed about to be done, Lazarus yowled softly and stepped away from Damien. Remaining invisible, the anti-Christ seemed to fly towards them, knocking straight into Pip's offenders and causing them to tumble to the ground. Pip squeaked with fright and jumped, watching with wide, bewildered eyes as an invisible force savagely beat his offenders. They cried out with a mixture of pain and fright.

Pip whimpered, obviously more frightened by the scene before him than being mugged. What was going on? How was it that the two were being beaten up by literally no one?

Finally, at long last, the attacks stopped and the boys were left strewn on the ground, bleeding and savagely bruised. They took deep breaths, daring to get to their knees and eventually to a weary stand. They looked at each other in bewilderment and then at Pip. One wove a menacing finger at Pip. "I don't know what the fuck it was you just did, but don't think you're going to go unpunished." He flinched, instantly regretting his threat for the fear of being hit again. He relaxed after a brief second before receiving a sharp slap across the face. The boys yelped and wobbled off.

Pip simply watched them, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He slid down the wall, curling up into a meager fetal position. He found himself unable to stand when he heard the voice.

"Get up."

Pip squeaked, flinched and buried his face in his arms. The voice was demanding and stern, and even a bit edgy.

"I said get up," it repeated, a bit stronger.

"N-no," Pip stuttered, refusing to believe he was hearing voices.

"Dammit, Pip," the voice growled. Suddenly Pip felt himself grow cold, so cold that he surely would freeze. This was quickly followed by a slowly rising heat. A chill went up and down his spine, causing him to shiver. It was obvious that there was a presence, something there that wasn't supposed to be there.

He continued to grow warmer by the second, sweat pouring down his face. It seemed as though he were going to melt and stick to the warm pavement beneath him. A loud ringing filled his head, causing his head to ache and throb.

The last thing Pip heard was the spine-tingling yowl of a cat.

Author's Note: There ya go. Churrah for Tweek. Hope I didn't bore anyone.