They were back at the junkyard the very next morning. Stan had arrived first, shaking Kenny awake in his bed to get the day started. After a long stint in the shower, which included a much needed stress relief session, Kenny summoned the Anti-Christ. An hour later, Craig arrived, textbooks and coffee in hand.

"You could have brought some for all of us," Kenny commented with a grin, leaning against a broken off car door. He had a guitar slung over a shoulder. A gift from Karen she had earned through babysitting money.

Craig ignored him, instead taking a long sip of the coffee and grimacing at the bitter aftertaste it presented. He looked above where two were currently floating in midair. Damien and Stan had been afloat for awhile and Craig found the whole thing a waste of time. Stan didn't need to learn how to fly. He had mastered that. He had seen Stan soar through the skies plenty of times, especially after one of their fights.

"Hey! Tucker! You listening?" Kenny's voice shouted.

Craig glanced over and rolled his eyes at the blonde. "You don't even drink this shit," he replied, taking another sip and regretting it instantly.

It was Kenny's turn to roll his eyes. "I wasn't talking about that. I was asking if you heard back from that school."

Craig's shoulders slumped. He had sent in an application to Cal Arts for the filmmaking program. He knew his chances were slim when his current portfolio wasn't up to par. It still stung when the rejection letter had come in.

"Don't worry man," Kenny said. "Their loss. You'll get something better. Maybe somewhere around Denver."

Kenny reached behind and twisted his guitar in front of him. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a blue pick and began to strum.

"Are you gonna play that thing?" Craig asked, eyeing the guitar wearily. Kenny responded with a few notes and a playful smile. Craig groaned, opening one of the textbooks he had brought. He could try and drown out Kenny with some trigonometry problems.

"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don't ask why," Kenny began to sing. Craig pinched the bridge of nose, a habit he picked up from Stan. "It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time It's something unpredictable, but—"

"NO!" a voice from above boomed and suddenly Kenny's guitar was ripped from his hands. "We are not playing that fucking song."

"God damn it, Damien," Kenny yelled, jumping up and down and shaking his fist at the Anti-Christ. "Give me back my guitar."

Damien turned to a perplexed Stan. "This is something you'll find useful."

"Telekinesis?" Stan asked, interested.

Damien nodded, moving his hand only a bit causing the guitar to spin in the air. Kenny continued to shout obscenities from below.

"People think it's just as simple as the ability to move something, but it's actually a lot more," he explained. "You'll be able to levitate, bind, maneuver, destroy, maybe even see where a bullet is heading before it even leaves the gun."

Stan's eyes widen. "I mean I've certainly caused stuff to levitate before but it was always an accident. Will you teach me how to control it better?"

"Yes," Damien said softy, barely audible over the shouts from Kenny. He traced a clawed finger across his lips as he observed the boy in front of him. "You'll have some limitations, considering you're an abomination, but the basic skill of intentionally controlling objects rather than the sporadic way you're use to, we'll focus on that."

Damien began to descend down and Stan followed, both landing softly back on the ground. For a moment, Damien stood there, motionless with only a devious grin playing on his pale face. Stan furrowed his brow confused as the Anti-Christ kept still.

"What—," Stan began but a sudden scream from Craig caused him to spin around in fright.

Craig was soaring through the air, textbook with him, and looking completely taken back. Damien's eyes never left Stan's face as Craig came to a halt a few inches above them.

"It's harder to control living beings," he said casually, ruby eyes snapping away to Stan and causing Craig to fall to the ground.

"Mother fucker!" Craig snarled, scrambling up and swearing some more. Damien rolled his eyes, snapping two clawed fingers together and the swears became muted.

"What did you do to him?" Stan asked worriedly as Craig started to tug on his throat as if his vocal cords had caught a snag and could be unhinged.

"We are going to start with something slightly bigger for a beginner," he said and then unexpectedly grabbed Craig by the face, pulling him closer. Stan gasped in horror, moving swiftly towards the other demon, but an invisible force blocked his path.

"Tell McCormick he'll be getting his guitar back so he can quit the fit he's having, and tell him if he plays another song from that mix CD he made me, I'll have Stan here blast his guitar to dust," he whispered menacingly before snapping his fingers once more.

Without saying anything, Craig snatched his textbook from off the ground, and stormed back over to Kenny.

"Now," Damien announced turning back to Stan who looked visibly shaken. "What normally happens before you've caused something to move?"

"I'm usually angry or um," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Damien rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"The most important thing you need to learn now is to master your emotions," he said.

"But how can I when everyti—"

"You don't need to prevent them, Allow your anger, your rage, your," he smirked. "but learn to use them to your advantage."

Stan frowned still not understanding entirely what Damien needed him to do.

"We'll start with something simple," he said. "Focus on a time when you were angry,"

Stan nodded. Closing his eyes the first thing that came to mind was when Craig had taken Tweek to see the new Star Wars movie instead of him. That had resulted in one of their biggest fights to date.

"Feel it, accept it, and embrace it. Don't let your emotions master you. Master them," Stan could hear Damien whispering. A part of him really wanted to open his eyes, as the idea of leaving himself vulnerable in front of the Anti-Christ was unsettling, but he didn't want to break whatever connection might be forming. "Your emotions are like a corridor with many doors ready to have you lose control. You need to get to the end."

Stan sighed, still not getting what the hell was going on.

"Now," Damien spoke. "Focus on Kenny's guitar."

Stan's brow furrowed heavily as he wordlessly moved his lips. "I still see the junkyard and you and Kenny and Craig," he said defeatedly.

"Focus on the guitar," he repeated. "The more accurate, the better. What color is it?"

"Um, yellow?" he guessed.

"You need to be sure," Damien snapped.

"Yeah, it's yellow," he grumbled but sounding more confident. "It also has a NASCAR sticker on it."

"Now, holding onto the image of the guitar in your mind, open your eyes and create a path in your head from the guitar to you," Damien explained.

"Okay," Stan said slowly as he carefully opened his eyes. Without needing anymore instructions, he held out his hand, arm extended and for a moment nothing happened.

"Fuck," he seethed, frustrated at his inability to master what was probably the easiest skill for a demon. But remembering Damien's words, he held onto that frustration.

The guitar still spinning at its fixed location gave a feeble twitch towards their direction.

"Did you see that?" he asked the demon excitedly.

"That's nothing," Damien responded condescendingly. "Keep trying."

Stan bit his lip, enough for the bitter taste of blood to form. The cold air now biting into as his whole body shook but he directed all energy, emotions, and strength towards the god forsaken guitar.

"Why does Stanny boy look like he's gonna shit himself?" Kenny wondered out loud from below. Craig turned from his homework to Stan. Kenny was right. Stan's face was red, shaking yet rigid like a horrible bout of constipation had hit him.

"Do you have any beer?" Kenny asked, sounding bored.

"It's noon. No, I didn't bring any booze for you," he snapped back, still watching his boyfriend.

Kenny scoffed, jumping up from the seated position he was in, and reached into the locker of his oversized sweater. "Fine. I'll just call Kyle. He always gets the good shit."

"Yeah and he always expects all of us to chip in," Craig mumbled turning to the blonde. "Tell him to bring whatever is cheapest. You don't know the difference anyways. Why do you need to drink? We've got a test tomorrow." Maybe McCormick had plans to remain a South Park resident but he didn't.

Kenny pointed above with a smile. "You think this is gonna be a short thing? Nah man, we're gonna be for a long time. Might as well enjoy it."

Craig mumbled something incoherent under his breath. He hated to admit but Kenny had a point. He was almost finished with next week's assignments and it looked like the two above were nowhere near done.

"Tell Kyle to bring some whiskey," he added, snapping the book shut.

"'Atta boy," Kenny said cheerfully. "Woah, look at that!"

Craig whipped his head around and up to see Kenny's guitar slowly making its way towards Stan.

"Fuck yeah Stanny!" Kenny cheered and Craig couldn't help himself from smiling. "Now use it to shove it up Damien's ass!"

Above the two, Stan let out a long and heavy breath. He was sweating, out of breath and still shaking but a smile was creeping on his face. "Is—is—is that good enough?" he panted.

Damien shrugged and Stan had the urge to kick the demon. "It's a good start, but there's room for improvement"

Stan groaned but nodded. He knew the importance of this skill. Not because he could bring things to himself but if he could master this, it would stop the random instances were he accidentally sent things flying around. Even once accidentally knocking out Tweek.

"Fine," Stan agreed. "Lets keep going."

Hours passed, when Kyle arrived with Bebe and most importantly, the booze.

"How long have you guys been here?" he asked, handing the case off to Kenny and taking a seat.

"Stan woke my ass up at 6 am," Kenny said. "Craig got here around 9."

"Shit," Bebe said, laughing a bit. "Long day I take it?"

"Nah."

"Yes."

"How's he doing?" Kyle asked concerned.

"Damien's been pretty good at managing his desire to turn Stan into some animal. I mean it took a lot of convincing from me last night," he winked and Bebe gave him a playful punch.

"He was asking about Stan," she said.

Craig shrugged. "I think he's doing well. He managed to get Kenny's guitar to come to him."

"No shit," Bebe said impressed.

Kyle yelped as the guitar suddenly appeared in front of their group. They turned to see Stan looking thrilled and Damien a look of dread as Kenny snatched the guitar back.

"He always gives in," Kenny said smugly, once more strumming the instrument. "What song do you guys want to hear?"

"You know you're the town's douchebag, right?" Craig informed the blonde.

Night had arrived and the group was relaxing on the dirty ground, enjoying the new spectacle above. Stan was getting the hang of bringing objects to him, and was now locked in a junkyard furniture battle with the antichrist. Each had summoned large furniture, Damien a table and Stan a sitting chair, and were smashing the others while the observers below cheered.

With the taste of cheep beer, Stan's chair now dismantled and Damien's table still in tact, and Kenny's third song playing, Craig couldn't help but smile. Perhaps this little mountain town wasn't so bad.