A.N- Update! Thank you so so much for reviews! They motivate me so much to write, they truly do. I suddenly came up with this new plot and I really couldn't make up my mind whether to use it or not since it kind of… changes everything. But I chose, and now I have a plan! Yay!

Anyway, chapter three. I hope you enjoy!


Chapter Three: Deal or No Deal.

The wind takes the chance of the frozen silence to rush past us and send snow into the small house. It roars angrily, as if to tell us to hurry up. Pip looks troubled by the intimidating wind but stays silent until I open my mouth.

"Damien?" I ask.

"Yes." He says.

"The son of the Devil?" I ask.

"Yes." He says.

I stare at him, disbelievingly. But honestly, the son of the Devil? Why would he ever help anyone? Apparently my confusion shows openly on my face. Pip purses his lips and knots his eyebrows together as if wondering how to explain the Devil's kind heart to me.

"Stan, I know it's hard to believe that the son of the Devil would save anyone's life… But Damien is not a bad person."

"Didn't he blow you up like a firework?"

He narrows his eyes at me for a short second but soon swims his gaze around, puzzled.

"Well, that was a long time ago. And he did save my life, god knows why…" He shakes his head as if to refresh himself. "Look, the point is he has the power to do amazing things, he showed that when he brought me back to life. If you really want to save Kyle's life, then he may be your only chance."

I'm nearly overwhelmed by Pip's sudden change of character. His hand holds onto my shoulder reassuringly, there's strength in his voice that I've never heard before. It only makes me fully realise how utterly lost, powerless and desperate I really am to save Kyle.

Damien, the Devil's son… My only choice…

"How do I meet him?" I whisper.

He smiles and gives my shoulder a tight squeeze before tumbling back into his house. For a second I hear sounds of crashing objects, gasps and books falling from high places, until he tumbles back out with a leather-bound book in his hand.

"Here…" He huffs, handing me the book as if he just won it from a war. "It says how to call him"

The book sinks into my hand, much more heavier than I was expecting it to be. To be honest I don't like the leather. Thick, cold leather, the colour hard to determine if it's meant to be red or black; I don't like my own explanation, but it looks like the colour of dried blood, only much darker. But it's the book of the Devil, what am I supposed to expect? I open up the book quickly, not even looking at the design of the cover or the book title, there was some sort of star-like symbol drawn on it, but I don't even want to know what that's meant to be. I flip through the pages swiftly and feel my jaw begin to loosen. Pip notices my confused expression and pops his head over my shoulder to look inside the pages.

"What's wrong? Can't you read Latin?"

I glare at him, feeling unexplainable humiliation. He ducks his head away from me, panicked, and raises his hands in the air to surrender.

"I'm deeply sorry if I offended you! I didn't know that you couldn't read Latin! Um… Oh my, this is a problem… Um… Oh yes!"

A light suddenly switches on in his brain and he rushes back into his house, crashing and breaking on his way again by the sound of things.

"I forgot I had this…" He squeezes, again coming back from a fight.

I receive the piece of paper tucked in his hand, having no idea of what it might be. When I unfold it, my heart feels like it shrivels up from the sudden chill I get from the symbol drawn on it. It is some sort of star, similar to the one on the book cover, encaged by a number of circles surrounded by weird symbols and random alphabets I guess are meant to be Latin. But what really creeps me out and sends a chill down my spine is the deep red it's drawn with. I hold my fist against my lips, trying to hold in the vile feeling that begins to swim in my stomach.

"Is this-"

"Blood? Yes, it's Damien's blood." He says nonchalantly. "Apparently this is a shortcut to summoning him, but I never use it. I don't summon him that often…" His eyes swim away, but he shakes them back onto me. "Yes… This will summon him. All you need to do is light the middle of the pentacle with a match, remember to have the pentacle reversed, and say 'Damien, I wish for you to appear before me' or something like that…" He explains it like cooking directions, but his voice trails off subtly at the end under the howling wind, unconfident with his own words.

I stare at him worryingly. "Are you sure?"

He shrugs. "Yes, that should be fine... Just remember to call his name, that's the most important part."

I take a look of the paper lying menacingly in my hand. If this is the only choice I have, then there is no need for second thoughts. My fist clenches the paper.

"Thanks Pip."

He smiles. "My pleasure."

I take off his stairs and dig my feet into the snow, remembering that I forgot one thing.

"Pip… Do you have any matches I could borrow?"

x

The snow has turned into a complete blizzard and I know for sure that it would take me the whole night to get back to the hospital. One hour to Christmas. I don't know for sure, but something keeps on telling me that that is the amount of time I have left, or the amount of time Kyle has left.

I give up and let my knees fall onto the snow and dig my hands into the white coldness. If I don't have enough time to go back to the hospital and summon Damien there, then I'll have to do it here. My hands search through the snow, ignoring the numbing coldness until I find what I am looking for. "Ah-ha!" I dig my hands out of the snow, holding two heavy rocks. They should be fine.

I grab the piece of paper Pip gave me out of my pocket and place it on the ground, securing it with my knee until I rest the two rocks on its edges. Okay. But in this blizzard I feel anxious whether I can actually light the paper up with a match. I curl myself up into a ball over the paper, an attempt to block out the wind. My hands fiddle for the matches, shaking from the cold and from nervousness. I break the first match from too much pressure, but with a massive amount of patience and a pile of dead matches, I finally succeed in lighting one up.

"Come on…" Digging my knees closer against my elbows, making sure no wind leaks through and blows the small fire out, I carefully bring the match towards the centre of the reversed star.

The edge of the match barely touches the paper's surface before the whole thing lights up like a firework. The fire traces the red lines drawn with blood as if it was a fuse. I jump up in surprise and in fear that I might catch fire and take a couple steps back, taking a good look at the burning paper. A breath escapes my mouth, amazed at the sight.

In the stormy night, settled on the white snow, the fire burning in the shape of the dark symbol looks like a birthday cake waiting in the dark for a celebration. Even the deathly wind doesn't seem to have any effect on the glowing fire. But no matter how bright it shines the paper doesn't seem to wear out and turn to ash. No… If I look closely I can see that the paper isn't burning at all, but there is a thin layer of nothingness between the fire and the paper. But there's no time for wondering or for investigation. Just remember Pip's instructions and call the fucking antichrist.

I take in a deep breath and close my eyes.

"Damien, I wish for you to appear before me…"

Silence follows. I peak out of my eye and see if anything has appeared. Nope. Nothing. I followed Pip's words just in case but he was pretty uncertain about the summoning. Maybe I should try something else, before I freeze to death in this blizzard.

"Oh mighty devil please show yourself." My tone turns a little sarcastic, but still nothing happens. "Damien, I summon you to this earth. Oh your mighty highness I beg you to come forth." The tension in my body disappears and I dangle my arms by my side in annoyance and disappointment. "Come on Damien will you just come out here, please?" Still nothing, and I'm running out of words to say. My patience and anxiety reaches the limit and I scream at the top of my lungs.

"GODDAMN IT DAMIEN WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!"

"Behind you."

My heart stops at the dark voice and I swing myself around in surprise. There, standing right behind me, is the son of the Devil. His pale skin wrapped in dead black, his emotionless face framed with raven hair. White and black is all I see on him. White and black, and the piercing red irises glowing in the dark.

I look back and forth between him and the paper still burning behind me. "What- how did you… Did it work?"

He raises his menacing eyebrows at me. "Your summoning? No, unfortunately. Pip just called me telling me that he forgot to tell you one last thing…" He walks around me, looking down at the burning paper. He raises his white hand, fingers long and thin with his nails dipped in jet-black. His fingers curl into a ball, and with that, the fire shrinks and disappears as well. "You have to summon me in Latin." His lips curl into an invisible smile.

My cheeks tinge with warmth from embarrassment and I point at him accusingly. "If it didn't work then how did you… wait, Pip called you? Called?"

"Yes." He slips out a mobile phone from under his sleeve. "Called."

I lose my voice trying to say a million things at once, but give up and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers instead. The Devil's son carrying a mobile? Yeah, that makes sense.

"That's enough playing around." The dark voice says pulling me out of my thoughts. I meet his red eyes and feel something get stuck in my throat. The red in his eyes seem like they're blazing darker than it was before. "I know why you called me Stan Marsh."

"Did Pip tell you?"

He smirks. "No. I know why Marsh because I have been waiting for a long time for you to call me. I must say, it took you much longer than I was expecting. Right at the last minute…" He shakes his head to himself.

"What do you mean?" I manage out, completely confused by his words. He looks up, eyes me with those piercing reds again, and comes right up to me in a quick instant.

"That doesn't matter for now." He breathes. "What matters is that I can save Kyle Broflovski. Am I wrong?"

I feel like I'm knocked on the head. "Yeah! You can? Oh thank god!"

"No. Thank me." He mumbles. "But we should go. We don't have much time."

"How are we going to go though?" I suddenly remember why I tried to summon him in the middle of the snow in the first place. "There's no way for transport, it's practically a snow storm and it would take hours to reach the hospital!"

He moves around me as if to ignore my words and holds me by my armpits.

"I have a way." He says. "Close your eyes."

Before I know it, my vision is lost into complete darkness. I feel the ground disappear from under me and it feels as though I'm floating in the air. Before I can let out a voice the wind suddenly attacks me like daggers, sending a numbing pain through my whole body, except for my back where Damien secures me in the cold wind.

A few agonising minutes later, the wind begins to calm into its original strength and I feel my feet touch the ground.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask the Devil letting go of me. "I didn't know you could fly."

"Fly?" He eyes me weirdly, but stays silent and walks past. I follow his steps and notice the large white building standing in front of us, glowing in the night. My eyes naturally swim to the room on the far end of the third floor. The light still seems to be on. "Hurry Stan Marsh!" He brings me out of my daze and I follow him into the hospital.

x

"Why is it so quiet?" I breathe, listening to the sound of my own echoing footsteps.

"Because no one's here." Damien answers tonelessly as if it's the most normal thing. But I find that strange.

"Someone has to be here. It's the friggin' hospital. And besides Kyle's family and Cartman and Kenny are here…" But he doesn't seem to be listening to my words so I shut my mouth up and keep on listening to the echoing footsteps.

In horror movies they often show deserted hospitals in the middle of the night and I normally nearly faint from fear watching them. But actually experiencing a lonely hospital isn't that frightening. Or maybe having the son of the Devil nearby makes me feel like there's nothing to be afraid of.

But this devil, if you only give him a quick glance, looks nothing more than your average teenager. Sure his skin is pale without a single freckle, but people would say nothing more than "He needs to go outside and play under the sun". Yeah, he's wrapped in black, but what's wrong with a plain black turtleneck and matching pants? Not mentioning his black shoes, black scarf, black hair and black nails. People would only say that he's an unadventurous Goth or something. The only features of him that people would rub their eyes for a second glance would be his slightly pointy ears, slightly pointy teeth, and his charcoal eyes that seem to glow in a fiery red on sudden occasions (of cause it has to be the viewer's mind playing tricks though, obviously).

"What?" He calls coldly, making me notice how my eyes have been drilling holes into the back of his head. I shake my head, unable to say a word, and to that he blinks his narrowed eyes and begins to walk again. I let out a sigh.

Our feet finally reach the third floor, this floor as silent as the others. That's strange. I was expecting that I would be able to hear quiet moaning and sniffing of Kyle's room from around here, but all that can be heard is our feet kicking the floor, Damien's black heels a little more louder than my squashed chucks.

The lights that lead towards the end of the corridor to where Kyle's room is are only dimly lit; showing our clear destination of the only room lit on the third floor, light leaking through the gaps of his door. Our footsteps stop echoing when we reach the door, until Damien swings it open, not caring on making a dramatic entrance. I follow him inside, hiding behind his smaller back; waiting for the piercing eyes of Cartman, Kenny and the Broflovski's to shoot this way. But I don't feel anything.

I peek out of Damien's shadows from confusion, wondering why Damien's entrance is left uncommented. But then I find out: no one's in here, except for the unconscious Kyle lying in his white sheets.

"I told you, no one's here." Damien says before I can produce any words through my frozen mouth.

"But why aren't Kyle's family here? And Cartman, and Kenny!" Surely they wouldn't have left dying Kyle's side. But Damien only shrugs my words off as if I was talking complete nonsense.

He ignores my completely confused gaze and walks to the side of Kyle's bed, staring into the sleeping boy. My hear stops. His white hand rises from his side and swims towards Kyle's face, his black eyes suddenly burning with red flame.

"What are you-" I panic at the sudden passion burning in his eyes; his hand seems to me like a deadly dagger aiming for his throat. I kick my heels and head towards the devil, aggressively grabbing onto the sleeve of his shoulder just as his hand shoots for Kyle.

But his pale hand doesn't cut through Kyle's thin neck. No blood dyes the white sheets. Damien's hand rests on Kyle cheek, caressing the soft skin with his thumb and swaying through the red curls of his hair with his fingers. The tension in me releases with relief, but it instantly comes back when I notice what he's doing.

"What are you doing?" I shake, gripping tightly onto his sleeve. But he ignores me, keeping his gaze on Kyle, strong longing hiding in his menacing eyes. An ugly feeling begins to bubble in my stomach and I grab his hand away from Kyle's cheek. "Stop that!"

He looks at me confused, as if he just remembered that I was here. "Why?"

"I don't know… I just don't like it." I mumble. He smirks.

"Jealousy."

"Shut up!"

But he ignores me again, returning his gaze back to Kyle, watching him breathe into his mask over and over again.

"Don't worry…" He murmurs. Then he brings his gaze back to face me. "I can fix him."

He's so random with his statements it's hard for my brain to keep up with him. But all my doubts for him instantly disappear and he suddenly seems like an angel to me.

"That's great! So um, when would you do it?"

His mouth slowly creeps into a smile, and not a soft, caring smile of that. It makes my vision of his angelic existence slightly blur into something darker.

"You do understand that I am not here to grant you any wishes." He states.

"Huh?" My vision of his angelic aura slowly dissolves into something dark and grim. It reminds me that he is no angel at all, but the devil.

"I am here to make a deal with you Stan Marsh." He sneers. "In exchange of Kyle Broflovski's life."

My insides suddenly gain a few pounds and all sink to the bottom of my body. The desperation that I had forgotten for the last half an hour comes back again.

"Anything!" I turn him to face me and put both hands on his shoulders. "I'll do anything! Just please save Kyle!"

His smile drops and everything in him suddenly turns firm, the simmering red darkening into its usual black, serious and challenging.

"In exchange of Kyle Broflovski's life…" He begins; the tension extends to my lungs and it makes it impossible to breathe. "I want him."

My brain crashes for a second. "What?"

His eyes pierce into mine but I only stare at him blankly.

"I said that I want to use his body."

"What, like, possess him? Like in movies?"

He blinks, annoyed. "I don't know what movies you are referring to, but if that means to get inside him like another mind and take complete control of his body then- yes."

I can't believe what he's saying. He can't be serious. "So you are going to save him, only so that you can go into him and use his body freely?" He remains silent and I take that as a 'yes'. "How's that any different from killing him!"

"He won't be dead." He says calmly. "He would be alive inside. It would be like having two minds in one body, only that I would have complete dominance. And I'm not saying that I want to be inside him forever. Only for a while."

The calmer his voice becomes seems to be the more angrier I become. Kyle would be awake inside him? That's even worse! It means that he would know every single thing Damien does with his body, and god knows what that would be.

"What do you mean 'for a while'? How long's that?"

Damien lets out a small sigh and rolls his eyes as if imagining how long he would be inside Kyle for. "A year, or two maybe. Until I have matured and become of age."

Two years… With Damien inside Kyle's body?

Despite the coolness of the temperature I feel sweat forming on the back of my neck.

"… Why? Why Kyle?" I breathe, my confusion and desire to avoid this situation almost brings me into a complete daze. But it doesn't work. I can't seem to escape this reality. So I ask him, desperately, a question that won't change a thing.

"It is not a great reason. Being Jewish, he is one of the only people who hasn't been baptised in South Park. That makes it much easier for me to 'possess' him."

I bite my lip, still thinking of ways to make him reconsider possessing Kyle.

"Can't you choose someone from somewhere else? Like, outside of South Park?"

"That's impossible." He instantly says, almost cutting into my words. "I can't get out of South Park, and even if I could, I can't stay on the earth for more than a couple of hours."

"Why not?"

His eyes narrow in annoyance again. "It is the work of my father, I'm not exactly sure of what it is. A seal, or some sort of spell. Either way, I don't have enough time on earth to even find out what that is."

My mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, but no words come out. I'm stuck. And I can't say anything, knowing that I have reached an unavoidable wall. No more questions, no more reasoning. All I have left to say now is my answer.

Damien turns his gaze on me again, his eyes blazing, the colour of red returning to his eyes.

"So. What is it?"

I give Kyle one last glance; sink in every detail on his frame. Listen to him breathe.

x

He asked me the question half a year ago.

"What do you think your life would be like without me?"

"Huh?"

I looked at him blankly, half a sandwich stuck in my mouth. I met his emerald eyes, but there was no laughter in there, they weren't depressed or heavy either. No, it was as if he was trying to hide all emotion and make it a casual question. But I saw the seriousness in his eyes and I pulled the sandwich out of my mouth.

"What do you mean, like, if you moved far away or something?" I asked, confused.

"No, then there would still be ways of communication. More like, completely out of your life." He expressed with hand gestures, which brought my attention to his movements and off his face.

"What so, like, if you died?" I joked, taking another bite of my lunch. But he nodded, and my chewing slowly went to a halt.

"Yeah, something like that… Just, if I didn't exist in your life."

Now he was avoiding my eyes. He tucked his knees against his chest and wrapped his hands around the sole of his shoes, rocking slightly like a child. Maybe I should have just left it there, but I thought for an answer, but to think of it realistically was a big challenge for me.

"I don't know." I said, useless answer. But I continued. "I guess my life would have changed dramatically. I mean you have influenced my actions so many times that I don't think I would even be me."

His rocking stopped, and he gave me a quick glance, his pink lips slightly tensed. I was pretty satisfied with my answer, mainly because despite it making me feel embarrassed, I said my honest feelings. But there were still things that I kept inside myself, more embarrassing things that I now think that I should have said. He turned back and stayed in his small ball, avoiding my gaze.

"I don't think that'll be the case." He whispered, just loud enough so that I could hear him. Time passed as a soft wind blew through us, but I kept silent. "I don't think your life would change much Stan, even without me. Instead of me you'll have another best friend. Instead of me you would have a girlfriend- or a boyfriend. Instead of me you would have a replacement and you would live your normal life."

My lips stayed parted in disbelief. For the first time in my life, I thought Kyle Broflovski was a complete idiot. And I said to him what was to me, and still is, the simplest thing in the world.

"But Kyle, there isn't anything that could ever replace you."

x

My eyes open, returning to the present reality, where the air is colder, the sound is hollow, the devil is waiting for my reply and Kyle is still lying on his bed, dying.

So Stan, what would it be?

Deal, or no deal.


A.N- Thanks for reading! Finally this story is going somewhere.