Disclaimer: South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.

Warnings: This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.

Chapter 04

Staring up at the old building, Trent frowned and unable to believe just how long it had been since he'd walked through those halls, sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. He'd only been in preschool when the accident had occurred and here he was, going on nineteen, seeing his school for the first time in almost fourteen years. It was sort of sad, in a way.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he turned and leaning back against the gym, frowned, watching with little interest as a few teachers strolled by, quite thankful that none of them could see him inside the force field. Though, it was odd watching them walk right into the shield only to pass through the other side without so much as noticing a difference. Not that it was surprising, the adults in this town had never been known for their skills of perception. Half the time, they didn't even know what was going on around them.

Knowing he had at least a few more hours before school let out, Trent shifted and deciding he had nothing else to do with his time, reached into his back pocket, pulling the card Damien had given him out. No matter how many times he looked at the item, it never felt like anything more than a regular playing card, right down to its hideously designed back. When you have need, simply call the demon forth was what Damien had told him, and yet, he'd conveniently left out any information concerning just how Trent was supposed to 'call the demon forth' in the first place.

Holding the card out at arms length, he tilted his head and guessing anything was worth a shot, tried shaking it, idly wondering if doing so would piss off whatever demon lived inside of it enough for the creature to come out. When nothing happened after a few long minutes of endless shaking, Trent growled and pulling the item closer, glared. Briefly toying with the idea of yelling at the card, he shook his head. No, he was not going to make a fool of himself by screaming at some scrap of paper in hopes that maybe, just maybe, something might pop out.

Just knowing that somewhere, Damien was most likely watching this and getting a right kick out of it, the blonde let out a long breath, trying to relax. It wouldn't do him any good getting frustrated now, no matter how much he wanted to rip the damn thing apart. Turning the card over, Trent snarled and not in the mood to figure it out right now, threw it off, watching as it hit the far wall of the shield, bouncing off before falling to the ground.

"Well, if there is a demon in that thing, it must be pretty weak," he muttered, falling back against the building as he groaned, beginning to wonder just why he had taken Damien's offer. Sure, he wanted revenge, but this was turning out to be a bit more than he bargained for. Sighing, he moved to sit down when a soft rustling sound caught his attention and, looking up, felt his eyes widen, watching as the card began to drift upward, a soft light shining from the blank side.

Finally, was all he could think as he quickly straightened.

Swallowing, Trent took a few tentative steps forward only to falter, the light beginning to flash wildly, causing him to shield his eyes. Starting to grow just a little tired of these sudden bursts of light that seemed to be plaguing him, he snarled and wincing when a loud popping sound filled the area, lowered his hand, going still at the sight that greeted him.

A small, odd looking creature now stood where the card had been only seconds before. He was a strange sight, standing at only three feet, with icy blue skin and a rather spiky, forked tail whipping wildly behind him. Dressed in a tattered, black suit that looked absolutely absurd on his tiny frame, he stared back at Trent smugly, dark purple eyes glinting in the dim light of the force field, lips pulled back into a wide smirk. After a long staring match, the demon lifted a clawed hand and, in a quick motion, swiped the top hat from his head, bowing deeply.

"I am Aradion de Batalla, and I am here to serve you." His voice was rather high-pitched, carrying with it an almost scratchy quality. When no response greeted Aradion, he frowned and placing the hat back upon his head, raised an eyebrow, tail snapping behind him. "Are you mute boy? Or just stupid?" A snarl met his words, causing the demon's smirk to reappear. "Good, I had hoped Damien didn't give me to a fool."

"You're the demon that's supposed to help me? You look more like a leprechaun," Trent muttered, not seeing how such a tiny, ridiculous creature was supposed to help him catch Kyle. "Can you do anything useful? Or are you just supposed to scare people off?" He joked, soft laughter following his words before the sound changed suddenly, turning into a slight cry as the ground beneath his feet shifted, sending him stumbling back.

"I am no leprechaun boyo, I may be small but I assure you," Aradion began, giving his wrist only a slight flick, watching as the earth settled, his smirk widening. "I do possess power. Did you think Damien would give you a worthless demon? He may like to make things interesting, but I can tell that whatever he is after this time, is important enough that even he is willing to be serious."

Glaring at the creature, Trent took a moment to regain his balance before brushing himself off, guessing that looks didn't mean much in the demon world when it came to power. "So, Aradion was it? What can you do exactly?" Even if he wasn't keen on working with the demon, the blonde decided that any extra power could at least prove somewhat useful.

"Various things, really. I, as you just experienced, have some expertise in the use of elemental magic, namely earth-based powers, though I can of course create demon-fire. With that, I also possess the typical abilities found in most demons." Aradion paused then, taking a moment to adjust his hat before he vanished, reappearing just beside Trent, chuckling when the boy jumped. "Teleportation happens to be one of those typical abilities."

"Ha ha, real funny," Trent snarled, taking a few steps away from the demon, beginning to think this might not be the safest partnership, extra powers or no. After all, it wouldn't do him much good to work with something that might just turn around and kill him. How could Trent actually tell if Aradion was loyal enough to Damien and wouldn't turn on him? "How can I trust you? If you really have those kind of powers, then how can I be sure you won't decide to betray both me and Damien somewhere down the line?"

Aradion tilted his head, staring up at the boy with a quirked eyebrow, his gaze darkening. "I am no fool, boy. Just because I possess the powers I do, I've never once deluded myself into thinking I could take on Damien. He's more powerful than you seem to realize and the quicker you learn that, the easier time you'll have serving under him." Watching as the human's expression shifted, he chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know what he might have told you, or what you might have thought, but you're under his command now and until he decides you're no longer of any use to him, he won't be letting you go.

You wield power now, yes? Well what price do you think you had to pay for that power? You belong to Damien now and, I speak from experience when I tell you, that once he claims something as his, it's impossible to escape."

As much as Trent didn't want to accept that, in some small way, it made sense. Of course he'd known from the start that he was only trading one prison for another, and he wasn't stupid enough to have ever believed that once Kyle was caught, Damien would just let him walk away. No, Trent had signed away both his life and his immortal soul to the other boy, and just because Damien got what he wanted didn't mean he would just give those things back.

Still, hearing it said out loud was rather depressing.

"We're both pawns in Damien's little game then, huh? Fine, if that's the case then I guess I have no other choice but to trust you for now." Hearing a bell ring in the building behind him, signaling the changing of classes, Trent smirked and turning to face his old school, chuckled, arms crossing. "Well then demon, school's almost out, so it won't be long before you get to show me some of those powers you seem so keen to brag about."

Watching the boy for a moment, Aradion laughed and thinking that just perhaps, this human was more interesting than he'd originally thought, nodded, moving to stand beside him, eyes drifting toward the school. He would play this game, and he would play with everything he had, because he knew somewhere, Damien was watching this. And maybe, with any luck, he would get some entertainment of his own out of this.

Kyle was beginning to think that, somewhere, whatever deity was on watch right now really had it out for him. Risking a glance toward Cartman, he sighed, wanting nothing more than to just go home, crawl into bed, and forget the last two days had ever happened. Yet, instead, here he was, sitting in chemistry class with the very boy he did not want to associate with right now sitting beside him. Apparently, the teachers in this school had taken it upon themselves to make sure that, whenever there was a joint project, Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman were to be partners.

It had to be some type of conspiracy.

Placing a hand against his forehead, the young Jewish boy sighed and wishing that at least his headache would go away, frowned, allowing his eyes to close. This was just too much for one person to handle in such a short time span, even for someone like him. He'd dealt with a lot in his life, from aliens to evil cults to Barbra Streisand, but Kyle was pretty sure this was one of the most stressful situations he had been thrust into. The fact that it also involved Cartman just added to the strain.

Not that the other boy seemed willing to acknowledge it. After their encounter this morning, Cartman had pretty much decided to pretend that Kyle didn't exist and, while a part of him was happy that he wouldn't have to deal with the arguing, another part of him felt betrayed. Whether Cartman wanted to admit it or not, they were both involved in this, and Kyle didn't think it was very fair that he was the only one who seemed to be worried about it. He also didn't think it was fair that all of the blame was falling on his shoulders; it wasn't as if he had told the other boy to help him, even Trent had given him the option to walk away, but the brunette had stayed and now, because of that decision, he wanted to say it was Kyle's fault.

Not only that, but Kyle knew, the moment they were out of class, Stan would be on his case again. He'd already been jumped by his best friend after their last class and as much as he appreciated the others worry, he also had no intention of telling Stan what had happened. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't even fully sure what was going on himself and he knew that bringing Stan into this would just complicate things, especially if he wanted to get anywhere with Cartman, because he would be damned if he'd just let the other boy sit back while he dealt with this alone.

"Jew, pay attention."

Making a small sound at the voice, Kyle jumped and straightening, moved to grab his fallen pencil, cursing when his hand knocked into the beaker that sat just a few inches away. Before he could catch it, the glass fell over, its liquid contents quickly spilling onto Cartman's hands, causing the boy to hiss as Kyle gasped. He had no idea what had been in the beaker, he'd been so lost in thought ever since sitting down that he hadn't bothered paying any attention to the teacher's instructions, but as he watched the other boy's hands turn a bright shade of red, he knew it couldn't be good.

Without thinking, he reached out and grabbing Cartman's hands, squeezed, watching as the same light from before appeared, the glow stretching out to cover the others wounds. Kyle didn't really know what he was doing, nor could he remember trying to call the power forth, just that he was pretty much working off a combination of instinct and adrenaline. It was his fault the other boy had been hurt, and so, he wanted to fix it, if only because he didn't need that being held over his head along with everything else.

Risking a quick glance, Kyle saw the shocked expression that now covered the others features and not wanting to meet Cartman's gaze, tilted his head back down, just in time to see the light start to die away. Slowly, the Jewish boy released his grip, the light following in suit as it faded away, before finally vanishing. Pulling his own hands back, Kyle swallowed, seeing no hint of the redness that had, just seconds before, marred the others flesh. Unable to believe that had worked, the red-head looked up and not surprised to find Cartman staring at him, shifted. No doubt, the other was trying to figure out why he'd been healed and how, but at the moment, Kyle wasn't sure he could, or even wanted to, answer that.

"What happened here? Were you two paying any attention to the lesson?"

Turning to face the elderly woman, Kyle felt his mouth go dry and finding no words to respond with, merely shook his head, quickly breaking eye contact. She didn't seem at all concerned with the fact he'd just healed Cartman, or that he'd conjured up that power in the middle of class, just that there was a rather large puddle of whatever chemical they'd been given now sitting on their desk. When the teacher simply sighed and ordered Kevin to grab the cleaning supplies, Kyle let out a breath of relief, feeling his shoulders slump. She must not have seen the display, something the red-head was very grateful for; if he was hesitant about telling his best friend, there was no way he would want to share any of this with his chemistry teacher.

Looking back at Cartman, Kyle saw that the boy was once again facing the other way and frowning, guessed it would be best to leave it alone for now, not wishing to draw anymore attention to himself right now. He knew that little accident had just made matters worse, but as he stood to help Kevin tidy up their table, Kyle also knew there was no way he would just sit back and let Cartman ignore this. Like it or not, whatever was going on involved both of them, and if he had to make the brunette see that, well, he'd stood against the other boy before, he would do it again if he had to.

As Kyle continued cleaning, thanking Kevin for his help, he failed to notice the other boy who sat near the back of the class, blue eyes wide as they watched the Jewish boy finish his task. Kyle had no idea that Stan, the very person he didn't want knowing about any of this, had just seen the entire display.

What the hell?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Stan quickly ducked his head and letting out a shaky breath, swallowed, trying to calm his racing mind. There was no way he could have seen what he thought he had, because it didn't make any sense on so many levels that the dark-haired boy was sure it would take him all day just to go through them all. When he heard the old woman resume her lecture, he cracked an eye open and looking up, saw Kyle was once again in his seat, gaze locked on the front of the classroom. A new beaker sat beside him, though at this point in time, it was empty.

Eyes opening fully now, he turned his head and spotting Cartman sitting near the far end of the table, Stan frowned. From his new spot, he couldn't see the other boy's hands, but he didn't really need to; they were unscathed, despite the chemical spill that had taken place only seconds ago. Which was when…no. Shaking his head furiously, Stan tore his gaze away from the brunette and focusing on Kyle once more, glared. There was no way he'd just seen his best friend heal Cartman, because one, Kyle hated Cartman. They were enemies, always against one another and unless something had changed in the universe, there was no way helping your arch nemesis could be considered right.

Secondly, to heal someone, one usually had to possess some type of power (according to all those fantasy movies he'd seen) and, after having known Kyle for most of their lives, Stan was pretty sure the other boy didn't have any magical powers. So either his best friend was very good at keeping his powers hidden or Stan was beginning to see things; neither option seemed very desirable, and at the moment, he wasn't sure which he preferred. Seeing things that weren't there or finding out his super best friend had been lying to him all these years.

Shoving a hand through his hair, wincing when he hit a knot, Stan sighed, still not sure what to make of this situation. He already had enough to worry about concerning Kyle, he certainly did not need something like this added to the stress. Especially not when this stress also included Cartman, who, despite Stan's reluctance to admit it, seemed to be directly connected to the issues surrounding Kyle.

Stan had the distinct feeling he was much too young to be dealing with these kinds of things.

Yet, he knew there was no way he would simply sit back and let it pass by without even trying to do something about it. So, he would do what he'd set out to do that morning; he would find Kyle after school and demand to know just what was going on. A part of him wanted to do it now, to drag the boy out of the class and make him talk, but that wouldn't do any good. Kyle didn't respond well to anger, except to get angry himself, and if they were both trying to hurt one another Stan wouldn't get the answers he wanted.

After school was the only option, the only time he could get the boy alone and not have to worry about others overhearing them. It didn't matter if Kyle wanted to talk about it or not, Stan refused to go home without knowing something.

Sometimes, you wake up in the morning and know, without a shadow of doubt, that the day you're about to face is not going to be a good one. It doesn't really matter what happens, when or even how, because it's simply the knowledge that it will happen that truly makes your day horrible; that makes going on and facing each obstacle just that much harder. Sometimes, nothing happens and yet you're still left with that awful, sinking feeling that refuses to let go. Sometimes, everything that could go wrong, does, and still, that feeling never leaves.

Eric Cartman was, unfortunately, having one of the latter days.

Shoving his way through the crowded hall, Cartman frowned and trying to ignore the voice that kept calling for him to stop, headed past his locker, knowing that the sooner he got out of the building, the better it would be for everyone. He was too close to exploding, and the longer he rode this mood, the more likely he was to just letting go of what little control he had left and hurting somebody, anybody, to see blood.

He knew, somewhere in the small part of his mind that was still thinking logically, that avoiding both Kyle and the whole situation wasn't a good idea. Things like this weren't easily pushed aside and though he might be able to get away for now, he knew eventually it would catch up to him and, more than likely, blow up in his face. Still, as Cartman pushed his way through the school doors, he decided that at the moment, he would take that risk.

"Cartman!"

Wincing at just how loud the sound had become, Cartman snarled and spinning around, took a few steps back, not having expected to find Kyle quite so close. How the hell had he caught up so quickly? Taking a moment to compose himself, the brunette glared and shaking his head, turned, in no mood for the damn daywalker. He paused, however, when he felt a hand wrap itself around his wrist. The touch was unexpected and sent a ripple of electricity through his body, leaving him frozen.

What the hell was that?

"Cartman," Kyle began once more, apparently unaware of the effect his touch had on the bigger boy, "I know you probably don't give a damn about what happened, but like it or not, we're going to talk about this. I'm not about to let you pretend nothing's wrong and leave me to deal with all of it. Not this time."

The voice broke through the haze that was trying to settle in his mind and, with a soft growl, Cartman tore his arm away, giving Kyle a dark glare. "There's nothing to talk about, Jew, because I'm not a part of whatever the fuck is going on," he hissed, just barely aware of the stares they were beginning to attract; it was common knowledge to the other students that if Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski were this close, sparks were going to fly.

Today, however, Cartman had no intention of sticking around to combat his hated rival and, instead, he turned on his heel, continuing his trek away from the school. Anger flooded through him, threatening to send him over whatever unstable edge he was still clinging to and he had a feeling if he didn't find some way to let this rage out very soon, he would end up doing something he'd regret. And it was rare that Eric Cartman did anything he regretted.

He felt, rather than heard, Kyle's movements behind him and he found it unsurprising that the boy was still pursuing him. A part of him screamed to stop, to stand and fight, to use this as a way to get the anger out but, even Cartman knew that would be pointless. Oh, it would help a little, would let him scream and shout and even land a few hits, but he had a feeling when he walked away, the cold rage would still be there under the simmering anger.

Taking a sharp left, he headed for the gym, deciding that he would take the back way home this afternoon. Not necessarily because it took a little less time, but he had a feeling that the less people he ran into, the less likely he was to kill someone. Behind him, Kyle was silent, and though it did little to help the annoyance that he was being followed, the fact the Jew wasn't screaming his name helped just slightly.

"Jew, I won't tell you again, leave me alone." He didn't bother to raise his voice this time as they had long since left the rest of the student body behind. When the footsteps behind him did not falter, he stopped and taking a deep breath, turned to face the red-head, eyes narrowing. "What the hell do you want from me? A thank-you for the little stunt you pulled earlier? Because if I remember correctly, it was your fault and I never asked you to heal me."

"I don't want any sort of gratitude from you, Cartman, because I know that's not really something you're capable of," Kyle responded and Cartman wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the sheer calmness in which the other spoke or the insult to his character. "I just want you to acknowledge what's happened and talk about it, so we can figure out what's going on."

Cursing quietly, Cartman shifted his bag and lifting a free hand, pushed it through his hair, unable to remain still. "You just don't get it do you? I don't want to talk or figure anything out, you idiot, I just want to go home and forget this ever happened. I thought you were supposed to be smart or something, can't you just figure it out yourself?"

Not giving the other time to reply, he pushed himself forward, forcing his body to continue onward, trying to ignore the odd clinching he felt in his stomach. It was then that he heard a cry behind him and before he could look back, he felt something slam into him, realizing only a split second later that Kyle had charged him. Stumbling forward, he went to grab the Jew's arm when he shuddered, having the oddest sensation of falling through what felt like a web.

Hitting the concrete, Cartman gritted his teeth and gripping Kyle's arms, allowed his body to adjust for just a moment before he shoved the boy off, sitting up quickly, needing only another moment to realize the slight difference in their surroundings. The area was the same, and yet everything looked darker, as if a shadow had come along and swallowed everything. He could only remember seeing this before when…

"Oh no, not again," he heard Kyle whisper and that was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. Looking toward the other boy, Cartman frowned, a little taken aback by the fear that gripped his features. The look caused something within him to twist, and he snarled, tearing his eyes away, frowning when it did little to alleviate the sensation. Needing something to do then, he stood and dusting himself off, glanced around, seeing no sign of Trent. He knew the boy was there, somewhere (hell he could practically feel the other), he just couldn't figure out where.

Behind him, he heard Kyle stand and making no move to stop him, allowed the boy to shift closer, guessing at least this way he could make sure the Jew wouldn't do anything to get them both killed. Dropping his bag to the ground, Cartman lifted a hand and taking a short breath, watched as his palm filled with light, a little surprised at how strong it felt. Glancing back, he gave Kyle a quick look, eyes dark. "Stay behind me and don't do anything stupid, Jew."

"Aw, how sweet, you're quite the protector."

Both boys turned, their gaze landing on Trent who stood only a few feet away, a satisfied smirk on his lips. It was the creature that stood beside him, however, that soon caught their attention. Cartman wasn't entirely sure what it was, with his blue skin and odd little tail, but he had a feeling that knowing it's species didn't really matter; it was making sure those long, razor-like claws didn't get too close for comfort.

He watched as Trent pushed away from the wall, a sphere of lightning-like energy filling his hand and feeling his own power flare in response, Cartman glared, taking a step forward. The need to fight was once again flowing through him and though he knew it was Kyle's fault, he found himself unable to ignore the pull. All he could do was assure himself that, by giving into the urge he would be doing so to protect himself and not the damn kike, that this was for his benefit, not Kyle.

"Aradion, make sure Kyle doesn't get in the way, this fight is between Cartman and I," Trent said, his voice breaking through Cartman's thoughts, causing the brunette to frown as he gave the small creature a quick glance. He heard Kyle make an odd sound behind him and fighting down the urge to look back, kept his gaze fixed on Trent, wishing he had some kind of weapon, something he could actually fight with, not just a ball of power, because he had a feeling just sending out some random blast this time wouldn't work.

Before he had time to make a move, he felt something shift then and looking down, he watched with wide eyes as the ball of light began to change, it's shape beginning to look almost like a sword; or at the very least, some type of blade comprised of light. Lifting it higher, he frowned and studying the item, swallowed, wondering how such a thing had occurred. Did that mean he could control the power as he wished? Would he be able to form other items, besides weapons?

More importantly, would he know how to use it? The most Cartman knew about the art of wielding a sword was what he'd seen in those action and martial arts movies, stunts he was sure were hardly as easy as they looked. Gripping the hilt, he frowned and thinking it would at least be easier if he were holding an actual sword, not something formed out of light, sighed, guessing the only thing he could do was swing like hell and hope, when this was over, he was still the one standing.

In front of him, he saw Trent smirk and not at all liking the expression, shifted, moving into what he hoped would be an effective fighting stance. For what felt like an eternity, the blonde made no movement until, finally, he lifted his hand, the orb of lightning flaring at the motion before it too began to change, shifting into the oh-so-familiar sword shape. Somehow, the fact that the other was able to manipulate his power as well didn't surprise Cartman and, watching as the blade sparked with electricity, he found himself instead hoping that Trent knew just as much about swords as he did.

Trent moved into a similar stance and Cartman found himself at a loss, unsure of what to do now. He could charge the other, but he had no idea just how well the blonde would be able to hold himself and, if he was honest, he didn't want to die this early in the fight. Inhaling sharply, Cartman swallowed and shifting, went to move when without warning, Trent charged only to vanish halfway through his run. He reappeared seconds later, inches away from Cartman, the brunette barely having time to raise his own sword before the blades collided in a brilliant explosion.

His mind was thrown immediately into overdrive as he snarled and shoving forward, tried to gain some type of leverage, not liking how easily he was being pushed back. Cartman knew he was physically strong, not only had he spent quite a bit of time trying to turn his fat into muscle, but his short stay on the football team had pretty much assured he now had the means to back up most of his threats. Unfortunately, Trent seemed to be just as strong and if the way his arms were shaking meant anything, Cartman had a feeling that just because he was a bit bigger than the boy, it didn't mean he could easily overpower him.

So focused was he on trying to hold his own ground, he barely had time to notice the little blur that darted past him before he heard Kyle's cry and gritting his teeth, Cartman tore away from Trent, swinging around in time to see the ground beneath the Jew open violently, enclosing around his legs. He had no idea what the hell was going on, he just knew that weird little imp had something to do with it and as he headed for the creature, he let out a strangled sound of shock when Trent once again appeared in front of him, the brunette barely dodging the swing aimed for his neck, his body stumbling back as he glared. "Why the fuck are you doing this?!" He shouted, fixing the blonde with a dark glare, beginning to hate that damn smirk.

"You mean besides the fact you two helped lock me away for pretty much my entire life?" Trent spat, his smirk twisting into what Carman recognized as a disgusted sneer, the expression causing his anger to rise just a few notches higher. "Besides that, seems Kyle over there has something Damien wants and he asked me to help him, so here I am." Before Cartman could respond, Trent lunged for him once more and though he easily met the swing with his own, he frowned, not taking the way his arms burned to be a good sign. If he was already starting to get tired, how much of a chance did he have?

"Cartman!"

Kyle's voice broke through his thoughts and feeling something snap within him, Cartman growled, his power exploding as he charged forward, not bothering to question this sudden flood of strength as he pushed against Trent. He saw a flicker of confusion in the others eyes and thinking that look suited the blonde much better, continued his assault, the pure need to destroy his opponent now raging through his veins.

Kyle watched with wide eyes as rage appeared to wash over Cartman, the larger boy suddenly returning Trent's attack with a fervor that seemed to come out of nowhere. Was that his doing? He hadn't meant to call out for the other, but when he saw the sheer look of desperation on Cartman's face, Kyle knew he had to do something, anything, to help, and yet he was rooted to the spot, unable to move because of that damn demon locking him in place.

Still, as he watched the fight between Cartman and Trent rage on, Kyle found himself wondering just what the blonde had meant before; what on earth could he possibly have that Damien would want? He was willing to bet that whatever it was, it dealt directly with the power he now seemed to possess and yet from the way Trent spoke, he made it sound like there was some sort of object resting inside Kyle.

Which didn't make any sense, as Kyle was sure he would have at least been somewhat aware of the fact he was carrying some powerful item around in his body by now. Then again, for all he knew, he might have always possessed this power and he hadn't found out about it until the other day, so the idea of something residing inside of him probably wasn't that unlikely at the moment.

"You seem to have a good degree of power over your friend there, boyo." The words slammed through Kyle's thoughts and, turning his head, he blinked, studying the little imp that stood only a foot away, his forked tail whipping furiously behind him. "He looked done for, until he heard your voice. Do you have some spell over him?"

Needing a moment for the question to sink in, Kyle sputtered, and shaking his head quickly, glared. "No, I didn't put a spell on him! And I sure as hell don't have any power over Cartman, I don't know why he reacted like that, so would you let me go?!" He cried, once again struggling against the stone bonds that encircled his legs, though like before, it did little good.

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't do that, you see if I did you would no doubt rush to help your friend and it seems that, at least for now, Damien wants you alive and whole." Aradion smiled, the expression only serving to make Kyle angrier as he snarled, going to respond when a large blast caught both their attentions and whipping his head around, the red-head gasped, watching as both Cartman and Trent stumbled away from one another, though he found himself more focused on the blood that was trickling down Cartman's face and the gash visible on the boy's upper arm.

As he saw Cartman struggle to control his breathing, the boy's eyes still dark with anger, Kyle resumed his vain attempts to break free. He had to get loose, had to go and help Cartman, because if he didn't, the other boy wasn't going to last much longer. Maybe if he called his own power forth? That seemed to help last time, didn't it? If he could just relax and concentrate he could…

"Kyle?!"

Head snapping up, the Jewish boy swallowed and twisting his body around as much as he could, felt his eyes widen when he spotted Stan, his best friend standing only a few feet away, shock written over his features. No, he didn't want Stan here, didn't want to see his friend get dragged into this. He didn't care at the moment how the boy had gotten inside the force-field, didn't even care if he had been followed by his friend, he just wanted him out of the area and away from the danger.

"Stan, get out of here!"

He was going crazy, that's all there was to it. There was no other explanation for what he was seeing except he'd gone off the deep end completely. Because there was no way Cartman could be having a sword-fight with Trent (when the hell did he get out of Juvenile Hall?), nor was there anyway for Kyle to be rooted to the concrete and there was definitely no way some blue-skinned, top-hat wearing creature could be standing right beside his friend. Stan was fairly sure as he closed his eyes that, upon opening them, none of this would be there; it didn't matter if he could still hear the sounds of fighting, once he reopened his eyes, all of it would be gone.

Sadly, as he peeled his eyes open, he found that wasn't the case. Which, in turn, meant either one of two things: his hallucinations were incredibly strong or everything he was witnessing was, indeed, happening. Licking his lips, Stan shook his head and tearing his eyes away from the fight, quite sure he didn't want to draw Cartman's attention to him when the other boy had that look on his face, he turned, heading for Kyle. Helping his best friend came first anyway.

Unfortunately, the imp seemed to have different ideas and Stan found his path blocked by the tiny creature, causing him to skid to a stop before he crashed into the thing. Eyes narrowing, he sighed and taking a step back, frowned. "Get out of the way," he ordered, before moving to sidestep the small obstacle only to feel something slam into the back of his leg. Yelping in pain, Stan fell forward, barely managing to break his fall as he twisted around, glaring darkly. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Sorry about that, but I'm afraid I can't let you get involved. You see this is just between Trent, Kyle, and that boy over there," the creature stated as he turned and Stan felt something almost reminiscent of fear build inside of him as he saw the thing raise one of its hands, his eyes soon drawn to the razor-like claws that seemed to glint despite the lack of light. He had just enough time to twist out of the way before the imp lunged, feeling those claws graze the back of his jacket as he rolled to the side, scrambling to stand.

He heard Kyle call for him, telling him to run, but he had little time to reply before once again, he was forced to dodge the creatures attack and trying to regain some form of balance, he swallowed, heart pounding. Darting to the left, he tried to reach Kyle only to have his path blocked by the imp and stumbling back to avoid the devil's hand, hissed, feeling those dagger-like nails brush against his cheek.

Falling away, Stan let out a small cry as he slammed into the concrete and lifting a hand out of reflex, moved to cover the wound on his face, grimacing when he felt blood coat his fingers. Then, spotting movement in the corner of his eye, made a strangled sound, realizing the demon was heading for him and without thinking, began scrambling back. The action did little to slow the creature's advances and he watched, frozen, as fire began to consume the devil's hand.

It was unlike any fire he'd ever seen before. Light blue in color, it seemed to flicker wildly in the demon's hold, and it didn't appear to give the creature any discomfort, though Stan had a feeling he wouldn't be so lucky should he come into contact with those pale flames. Behind the demon, he saw Kyle struggling against his holds and swallowing, felt his mouth go dry, his mind finally slowing down enough to help him realize one very clear fact: he was about to die.

Tearing his eyes away from the blue-skinned devil, Stan found his gaze landing on the fight that was still raging between Cartman and Trent. Did Cartman know he was here? Despite the small part of him that hoped maybe, just maybe, his friend would try to help him, Stan was pretty sure the larger boy was too absorbed in his own fight to even notice his presence. Which meant he was on his own.

A slight shift caused him to fix his gaze back on his attacker and seeing the demon lunge, Stan threw up his hand, the reflex done in some vain attempt to the block what he knew would be a fatal hit, his eyes closing. There was no way he could deflect the fire, and it wasn't as if he even stood much of a chance without a weapon of some kind. He wished there was some way he could move, some way he could defend himself, because he wasn't ready to die, not here, not in front of Kyle. He had to save Kyle, had to help him get out of here and he couldn't do that if he was dead. Couldn't do that if he didn't think of…

"Stan!"

The voice tore through his thoughts and before he knew what was happening, everything seemed to explode around him. Stan didn't have any real time to react before he felt heat ripple through his hand, the sensation followed by a shrill cry, the sound quickly turning into a painful keening. The noise become so loud that his eyes snapped open and he let out a mangled sort of gasp, gaze locked on the flames that were erupting from his palm and knowing now where the heated tingle that was traveling up his arm came from, he yanked his hand back, the fire immediately dieing out.

What the hell was going on?

Breathing heavily, the dark-haired boy swallowed, trying to control his breathing before realizing the howling was growing louder. Allowing his eyes to scan the area, he tried to locate the source, his stomach twisting as his eyes fell upon the badly burned demon. The creature was writhing in pain, that awful noise spilling from his lips and he could see the dark patches that marred the little imp's pale blue skin. Feeling the bile rising to the back of his throat, Stan turned away, unable to stand the sight. Needing something else, to focus on he turned and found his eyes locking with Trent's shocked gaze.

The shock soon gave way to anger and Stan swore violently as Trent charged for him. He was halfway up when he saw something move behind the blonde and, gasping, watched as Cartman lunged forward, his blade plunging through the back of the others abdomen. Taking a stumbling step backward, Stan heard Kyle scream for Cartman to stop, the words coming seconds too late and seeing the blood that was now seeping from the wound, swallowed hard, trying to keep his stomach down. He'd never liked seeing blood, and to see it actually coming from someone else…

"You son of a bitch!"

The curse quickly broke through the odd haze that was threatening to cloud Stan's mind and he forced himself to look back, just in time to see Trent stumble away from Cartman, who looked as if he'd just woken up, his eyes no longer dark with fury, filled instead with confusion. It was as if he'd been under some type of spell, a prospect Stan wasn't quite ready to rule out; after all, he'd just shot fire from his hand, so at the moment, anything seemed possible.

Before either he or the brunette could actually react to Trent's outburst, the blonde vanished, reappearing beside the oddly still form of the demon. The wounded boy wasted no time as his hand shot out, shaking slightly, and as he grabbed the creature's arm, he turned, eyes swinging to rest on Cartman. "You'll pay for this," he snarled and then he was gone, taking with him the little imp.

Almost instantly, light flooded the area and squeezing his eyes shut, Stan groaned, not having realized just how dark it had been as he shook his head. After a long moment, he slowly forced his eyes open and waiting until they were at least somewhat adjusted to the new light, saw Kyle standing, a gasp breaking from his lips as he darted over, a hand reaching out to steady his friend. "Kyle, are you okay? What the hell just happened? Are you hurt?" The questions tumbled out before he could stop him and only a sharp look from the Jewish boy made him pause, allowing Kyle to regain his bearings.

"I'm fine Stan, really," Kyle assured and though Stan very much doubted that, he decided to let it rest for now, thinking they had bigger issues to deal with. Slowly, he took a step back and watching the red-head dust himself off, frowned, his gaze sliding to the figure who stood just a few feet away, watching Kyle intently. The sword was gone, and though he had no idea where the other might have put such a weapon, the dark-haired youth decided right now that wasn't what mattered.

"I want to know what's going on, Kyle." He saw the boy tense and reaching out, let his hand wrap around Kyle's wrist, wanting the boy to know he wasn't leaving without some answers. After a brief pause, he felt Kyle relax and loosening his hold just a little, nodded, gesturing for him to speak. However, before the red-head was able to get even one word out, he was interrupted by a loud scoff, causing both boys to fix their sights on Cartman, who stood glaring at them.

"If all you pussies are going to do is stand there and hold one another, then I'm out of here," he said and turning, he headed toward them and pausing only to retrieve his bag, brushed past the pair, ignoring Stan's glare. "Don't follow me again Jew, I'm tired of getting dragged into your problems." When he received no response, he shrugged and continued, only making it a little further before he came to a sudden stop, seeming to bounce back slightly, a quiet string of curses flowing from him.

Just as Stan went to ask Cartman what his problem was now, a sharp whistle tore through the air and had all three boys turning, their eyes landing on the tall, lanky form of a young man none of them had ever seen before. He certainly didn't look like anyone who lived in South Park, that much Stan knew and as he studied the man, with his short, messy brown hair and dark blue eyes, he frowned, thinking the stranger had quite an odd feel to him. Then again, at the moment, everything seemed odd. "Who are you?" He asked, ending the awkward silence.

"Oh, terribly sorry, my name is Jasper Lloyd and I also apologize to you, young man," Jasper added, his eyes flicking toward Cartman as he smiled, "but I cannot have you leaving just yet. You boys were all quite impressive, the sheer amount of power you're able to control already is astounding! Not to mention, the control you have over their actions, Kyle, is very good."

Feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him and replaced just as quickly, Stan made a strangled sound, staring at the man with wide eyes. "Whoa, wait, what the hell are you talking about? And, how do you know Kyle's name?" Thinking things were just getting weirder by the minute, he briefly wondered if he even wanted to know anymore, beginning to think it might just be better to pretend this never happened.

"Yes, of course you're all quite lost aren't you? Well I suppose that's understandable, what with Damien getting to you before I could," sighing then, Jasper shook his head before smiling once more, heading for the trio. "Explanations are in order, that much is certain, however I do believe such things would be best left for tomorrow, after you've all had some rest hmm? Eric, if you don't mind, since you're an only child, I'll be staying with you."

"No, no fucking way am I letting some random guy I don't even know stay at my house, I learned my lesson before," Cartman protested, arms crossing then before adding, "and don't call me Eric, I don't even know you asshole."

"Oh my, you've a rather colorful mouth don't you? No matter, it's already been arranged and it's simply the only way. Kyle and Stanley both have more people living in their respective homes, so it's safer for me to stay with you," he explained, and not giving the brunette time to argue, nodded. "Now then, I realize today has been a whirlwind of activity for you, so Stanley, if you don't mind escorting Kyle home?"

Not entirely sure what was going on, Stan found himself nodding and guessing this would give him a chance to talk to Kyle without the fatass interrupting, turned, pulling Kyle along with him. He had no idea who this Jasper guy was, or even if he could be trusted, but at this point, the thought of going home and crawling into bed was far too tempting and the man had promised to give them answers, which was a lot more than he'd gotten so far.

"Wonderful! I shall have Eric inform you tomorrow of where we will meet up so we can discuss the current situation. Both of you get some rest, especially you, Kyle," he added, before turning toward Cartman, seemingly unaffected by the dark look said boy was sending his way. "Now then, Eric, shall we head to your home?"

"I already said you're not staying at my house, and stop fucking calling me Eric!" The sound of cheerful laughter was his only response.