A/N: Hey guys! It's been forever, I know!

I've just been having trouble writing this chapter-- okay, that's a lie, I've been procrastinating it. I'm so sorry about all of this fuss though. In all honesty, I'm NOT happy with this chapter at all, but ehh, whatever. I might go back and fix it later; who knows?

OH.

WARNING: Scary stuff in this chapter. Don't read it if you have a weak stomach, please.

Other than that, I have no beta, so um... Sorry for any mistakes.

Reviews are looooove~!

By the time Kenny had arrived, there were three blondes on the couch, limbs askew, all asleep. Damien was sitting on the floor beside a hand that rested on his shoulder- Kenny figured it was Pip's, but he couldn't really tell. Crimson eyes lifted to meet sky-blue, and the Dark One gave a sigh, getting up by rocking forward onto the balls of his feet with practiced ease. Kenny's eyes were where Damien knew they'd be; on Tweek. After a few moments of prolonged silence, Kenny shifted in his orange sleeveless sweatshirt, hands in his pockets.

"You really think so?"

Damien gave a nod. "There's no doubt my mind. Come here; look." Kenny moved over as Damien carefully lifted up Tweek's shirt. The pants already hung low, giving Kenny a good view of the damage. His eyes were wide, lips slightly parted in shock.

"Dude... there's no way someone else did that." When Damien furrowed his brows, Kenny squatted beside the couch, close to Tweek's stomach to examine the damage. "There's no fuckin' way it's from someone else; look at the way the hand bruises are; they're the wrong way fer someone else."

"Not if they were holding him from behind," Damien pulled Tweek's shirt down and stood back as Kenny straightened to his full height of a whopping six-two. He was thin, but packed tanned muscle from working out. Damien only made it to five-eleven, but was equally as thin, and paper-white. Butters was next, not as thin as the other two, but petite, reaching five-nine, Pip barely five-eight and feminine, and Tweek a mere five-six, scrawny and nearly malnourished. Craig was Damien's height, and built from his years on the football team with Clyde and Stan.

Kenny cast a sideways glance at Damien, hands shoving into his pockets. "Alright, so let's say that Tweek was raped. What now?" Blue eyes challenged crimson as Damien tried to form an answer. It was a good question. What now?What were they supposed to do? Damien sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing for the blond to follow him with a jerk of his elbow.

They made it into the kitchen, and the Anti-Christ folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the counter. Kenny straddled a kitchen chair, arms folded atop the back, chin resting on them. "Dude, yer jumpin' to conclusions-"

"He said that 'he wouldn't stop', Kenny!" Temper boiling, Damien's fists clenched against his sleeves, restraining himself as he averted his gaze from the teen across from him. "Fine. You don't have to fucking believe me, but I know what I saw, and I know what I heard. And mark me, by all that is Unholy, I will find out who did this." His voice had dropped dangerously low, and Kenny feared for his life- not that it made a difference either way, because of his constant habit of dying. But still, it didn't hurt to fear for it anyways. It would be painful.

Before Damien could set him ablaze, Kenny ducked out of the kitchen, scooped Butters out of the pile of limbs on the couch, and took off up the stairs. That left Pip and Tweek, curled up, holding each other in their sleep. Damien sighed and walked to the back of the couch, leaning his arms on it as he watched them. They looked peaceful, content. Reaching out, he brushed a lock of hair from Pip's face, who stirred, and pressed his head into Tweek's shoulder, who in turn nuzzled into the Brit's chest. A chuckle from the Dark One, and Damien felt himself relax. For now, he'd push what he'd seen into the back of his mind, until he could figure out what to do.

It wouldn't be pretty, no matter how he went about it, he decided as he took a seat in the armchair adjacent to the couch. He stared at the two on the couch, lost in thought.

I should call Craig, but if he doesn't know, he might falsely accuse someone else. Not that I care if he kills someone innocent, but I want to make sure that he gets the right guy… Sure, I care about Tweek. Not in that way, but still…

Damien brought his fist to his chin, biting into his knuckle, brows knitting in concentration at his inner monologue.

Rape… It isn't like I get joy out of that. Any type of suffering, sure. But not… Not with Tweek. The poor kid is already fucked up, he doesn't need shit like this. But he had it. And Craig doesn't know. I know they've slept together, so it couldn't be Craig. Nah, Tweek would have ditched him, had it been. Who the hell would do that to him?

It grew late, and Damien's thoughts had run in a circle so many times that he could swear that the room was spinning. He covered his eyes with the heels of his hands and relaxed back into the chair with a long exhale.

"Damien?"

Shit.

Damien's hands dropped, and he blinked once to clear away the blur. "What's up, Pip?" He asked, shifting so his arms folded across his chest. The young Brit sat up, carefully untangling himself from Tweek before making his way toward his boyfriend. He cocked his head, biting his lower lip as he studied him. "…What?"

"Are you feeling ill, Damien? You look exhausted. Perhaps you should try to get some sleep." Ah, count on Pip to be so ever-observant. Damien shook his head, tugging the blonde into his lap and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Pip's fingers began to comb through Damien's hair, who titled his head willingly into the caress, eyes closed once more. "Mm, don't worry about me. My mind's just threatening to explode from over-thinking." At least it got Pip to giggle. Damien returned the sound with a low chuckle, head turning once more to press kisses to the palm of Pip's hand. He'd already told Kenny, even after promising he wouldn't tell. Now what was he supposed to do? He definitely couldn't tell Pip, no matter what. The only problem would be a confrontation. If Pip asked Damien, Damien knew he wouldn't be able to lie. Sure, he was the Anti-Christ, and lied and sinned and was lustful, and all of that, but he couldn't seem to be any of it around the Brit. It confounded him, and he'd even gone as far as to ask his father about it (Damien and Satan had somewhat of a damaged relationship, after Damien refused to come back to Hell in order to stay with Pip. It was a pointless fight, but left both father and son bitter). "We should get going. Wake Tweek up, yeah?"

Waking Tweek was never a simple task. It was more of a chore, than anything else. You couldn't be too loud, or shake him too hard, or sound anything but gentle, or else he might kick the bucket. Once, Butters had shaken him a little too quickly, and Tweek wound up in an ambulance after having a panic attack. It was just one of those things. So far, Craig and Pip were the only ones ever successful with waking him.

"Tweek?" Pip crouched by the side of the couch, hand gently cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking beneath his eye. "Tweek, chap… Wake up…" There was somewhat of a groan of protest as mocha eyes fluttered open, to meet oceanic blue. "Ah, there you are. Welcome back to the waking world." The Brit smiled at him, and the gesture was returned as Tweek grinned and pushed himself into a sitting position, hand fisting through his hair. "Damien and I are going to take our leave. Would you like us to walk you home?"

"Ngh- n-no, it's okay. I can go home by myself. Besides, you two live th-the other way. Craig should be getting off of work in the game store anyways; s-so I can walk with him." The twitchy blonde got to his feet, pulled his pants up a little more, then tugged his shirt down self-consciously before getting his shoes, along with Damien's and Pip's. The three put them on in silence, before exiting the house. They didn't bother announcing their leave- Kenny and Butters probably wouldn't be able to hear them, anyways. They had both gone upstairs.

Pip hugged Tweek when they parted, and Damien ruffled his hair, before draping his arm around his boyfriend and walking off in the other direction. Tweek watched them go, before turning in his own direction, making his way down the sidewalk.

It was getting cold out. Tweek tugged his coat tight around his frame, hand stuffed into his pockets and clenched into fists. Looking up, he came to the conclusion that it would probably snow before he got home, and the sun would probably set. Tweek decided to jog toward the video game store where Craig worked, honestly not wanting to make the trip home alone. He never liked to, and Craig almost always walked with him.

When he got to the store, he found Craig leaning against the brick building, hands in his pocket, cigarette between his lips. He smirked as Tweek bounded up to him and attached himself to his arm. "Hey Tweekie," he said, cig dangling from the corner of his lips. Tweek furrowed his brows, about to comment on how Craig needed to flick the ash, lest it blow in his face and burn him, when he was tugged a little roughly to walk beside his boyfriend. "I've been waiting out here for you for a while now."

"Y-You have? How'd you know I'd walk by here?"

"Damien called me."

"Oh."

It was silent, Tweek still being dragged behind Craig as the male began to pick up his pace. "C-Craig, slow down, I c-can't-"

"Shut up."

"Gah! I'm sorry!" Tweek whimpered and began to jog a little, his steps fumbling next to Craig's long strides. Had he done something wrong? Craig seemed a little angry. Okay, he seemed reallyangry. Tweek decided it best to not speak, instead keeping his head bowed and concentrated on where he was placing his feet to keep himself from tripping so much.

Only when Tweek realized that they'd been walking for a long time, did he look up. He pressed closer to Craig. He didn't recognize where they were! This definitely wasn't his house, or anywhere relatively close to it! They were standing before a shack of some sort, in the more run-down part of South Park. It was probably only a mile or so away from where Kenny lived, Tweek assumed. "Wh-where are we?" There was no answer, and Tweek looked up. "Craig…?"

A jolt of pain, and then nothing. Tweek crumpled to the ground, and Craig tossed aside the rock he'd had in his hand, watching as blood flowed down the back of Tweek's neck. Bending down, he scooped him him, hauling him over his shoulder and kicking open the shack door. It nearly swung right off the hinge as it slammed closed again from the force of Craig's kick.

The interior was dingy. Discolored rags were strewn over broken furniture, a soiled bed in the corner. The windows were boarded up with deteriorating planks of wood, leaving the only source of light to the hanging, dim light bulb in the center of the room.

Craig tossed Tweek down onto the bed and rolled him onto his back, pulling his sweatshirt up and off, before working at the rest of his clothes. When Tweek was stripped down, he undid his own jeans and shoved them past his hips, along with his boxers. Tweek stirred, but only managed a tiny pained sigh, before turning his head the other way. He was trying to come back to consciousness through the pain coursing through his head, yet currently unsuccessful. His mind was hazed, and he felt like he was being suffocated.

Tweek wasn't that far off the mark. Craig tied a dirtied strip of sheet over his mouth, keeping him silenced for the most part as he pushed his thighs open.

When something hot trailed up his leg, Tweek's eyes snapped open wide. They rolled about before beginning to focus to the poor lighting, first noticing all of the broken, ratty furniture, before realizing that Craig was between his legs, and that he was naked. "Mmf-!" Tweek tried again to cry out Craig's name. Again, it was muffled, before he realized that there was something covering his mouth. There was another heat against his leg, and his eyes rolled back in pain. Craig was pressing his cig to his inner thighs, burning him. Tweek couldn't bring himself to move.

Not again… Please not again…

It all seemed so familiar. Tweek felt panic rise inside his chest as Craig climbed up his body and tugged Tweek roughly down against him until the backs of his thighs were against Craig's hips. It was uncomfortable, it was wrong. And Tweek knew what was going to happen.

A scream went unheard as Craig shoved himself into the blonde. Tweek now began to resist with renewed vigor, thrashing and sobbing into the gag. He felt as if he was being ripped in two. New bruises would begin to form over the barely-fading ones. His vision was blurred by tears as he thrashed his head against the firm, lumpy pillow, trying to hit against Craig. "Mm-! Nghff-!!"

"Shit-" Craig laughed, tossing his head back as he rocked forward, harder and deeper into Tweek, who was now beginning to numb, head dropped to the side, staring off. "That's right, slut. Take it."

Tweek shuddered, closing his eyes tightly and swallowing. What was Craig doing? Why was he doing this again? Hadn't once been enough? They slept together regularly, why did he need to do this?

I must have done something wrong.

It must have been my own fault. I'm not good enough for him. I love him, I should let him do this, he likes it.

The few minutes that passed seemed like an eternity as Tweek clenched the sheets and let Craig have his way, before Craig pulled out and came all over his thighs. Craig pulled off and zipped up, leaving Tweek alone on the bed, naked, bleeding, and used.

It was a good hour before Tweek worked up enough energy to pull his clothes on. It was about a half an hour after that when Tweek left the place, and began his limp home, taking it slow. The seat of his pants was stained with blood, and he was glad that his shirt covered it, not like it mattered. When he got home, his parents barely acknowledged him, as usual. He was able to climb the stairs and make it to the bathroom.

Only when the door closed did he come apart. Tweek threw himself toward the toilet, slamming the lid up as he emptied the contents of his stomach, choking and coughing. It was a while before he could get a full breath between heaves and gagging. He flushed, and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, before peeling it off. It was tossed in the corner, while his pants were shoved into the bottom of the trash bin with his boxers. Pain throbbed in his rear, and he whimpered, clutching onto the sink and he tried to stand up straight, wincing and twitching the entire time. When he'd gotten as upright as possible, he turned to the shower and let it run steaming hot before getting it.

A yelp and he covered his mouth, waiting for his body to get used to the heat. His skin burned, but he felt a little better. The hot water felt like it was washing away what had happened to him. Tweek was careful as he began to wash himself, taking care to scrub himself down thoroughly. He washed until the water ran cold, and stood naked in the middle of the shower after turning the tap off.

O-oh Jesus… What am I gonna do? I know he loves me. He tells me that every day. This is just what he likes to do. If I tell him not to do this, then he might think I don't love him. I just wanna make him happy. Shit, this is a lot of fucking pressure. Damien's gonna find out. Craig will leave me if he finds out. I have to tell Damien I like this. I have to tell him that I like to be treated like this. It's the only way.

Tweek hugged himself and leaned against the tile wall. His hands came up to cover his face as he sobbed, sliding down to sit, knees drawn up to his chest. He tried to keep himself quiet, tiny sniffled and whimpers escaping him. His quiet didn't last, and soon he was outright bawling, hugging himself tighter. It wasn't fair. What had he ever done to deserve it?

About an hour later, Tweek found the motivation to get himself off the tub floor, fully dry. His hair was damp, but no longer dripped down his shoulders. Naked, he shuffled down the hallway to his room, collapsing on his bed without getting dressed. He couldn't bring himself to bend over. Of course, as soon as he hit his mattress, his cell phone started buzzing on his bedside table. He stared at it a few moments, before reaching out. Fingers curled around it, he flipped it open and glanced down.

Where the fuck r u? –Craig

Tweek's brows furrowed.

Home.He texted back, fingers trembling.

A few seconds later…

I've been waitin outside 4 u 4 3 hrs.

Tweek didn't get it. He bit his lip, and dialed his boyfriend's number. Moments later, the nasally, comforting voice of Craig Tucker flowed into his ear. "Tweekers, what the fuck?"

"Y-You walked me home!"

"What? No I didn't? What the hell are you talking about, man?"

"Craig… I… I think there's something wrong with my head."

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