A/N: Hey guys, guess what? I just finished chapter three yesterday, and I'm already on top of my game, starting chapter four. I'm actually really excited to be doing this, now that the stupid laziness is gone, and now that I have CrescentNinetails guiding me every step of the way. I think it's what I needed. Also, a thanks to ToniTheTerror, for opinions, and roleplaying me through this.

After months of deciding where I wanted to go with this, I've finally chosen, and I'm going to stick with it.

Without further ado, I bring you chapter four.


Damien rolled onto his back, the early morning light filtering onto the bed through the creases in the blinds. Golden hair spilled out over his chest, Pip curled close with the blanket draped over his hip, exposing his bare upper torso. The antichrist had managed to coax his lover into a night of slow, passionate love-making after their little food-fight. Pip hadn't complained, positively melting at his boyfriend's smooth, heartfelt confessions of love, and his tender touches, gentle kisses. It had been a while since they'd done it like that, and the Brit was never one to pass up something so romantic. Now Damien lie awake, a rare smile on his face as his fingers stroked strands of silk from his angel's cheek, to better see his face.

Oceanic eyes gave a flutter, and Pip sighed, shifting his position to better cuddling into the mass of their tangled limbs. "Good morning, love," my murmured, voice thick with sleep, feigning a yawn. The spawn grinned and pressed his lips to Pip's, cutting off his yawn halfway. Pip's look of confusion made him chuckle as he pulled back.

"Morning, Pipsqueak." Voice laced with affection, Damien pressed a kiss to a smooth, cool forehead just as Pip snuggled into the warmth of his lover's body. "Mm, you gotta get up, babe. You have work." Pip groaned and pouted, rolling on top of his boyfriend, gazing down at him, hair curtaining over one shoulder with a 'Do I have to?' face. Damien simply laughed and nodded, hands coming to settle on his lover's bruised hips-- it has been from last night where Damien had maybe kissed a little too passionately, marking and claiming his mate. "Yep. Up, come on." A dramatic eye roll and Pip got off of Damien, strutting to the shower, making sure he swayed his hips in a manner so seductive that Damien could feel his mouth beginning to water. Oh, Pip was so his when he got home.

The Brit showered routinely, taking extreme care in washing his hair and body. He always made sure he was perfectly pristine, and primped for work. It took him an extra hour, so what? He got up early, and barely ever complained. He was quite the morning person. And when he emerged from the shower, dressed from the waist down, he found Damien nowhere in sight. A shrug, and he grabbed his shirt and bowtie, hopping down the stairs and heading to the kitchen. He'd grab some toast, iron his clothes, and be out the door. But as he passed the kitchen, he caught sight of his lover in boxers and a t-shirt, slaving away over the stove. "Damien?"

The antichrist turned and smiled, frying pan in hand, harboring two sunny-side up eggs, "Hmm? I figured I'd make you something to eat today. You barely touched dinner last night, you gotta be starving."

"I am!" Chirped the smaller teen, hanging his shirt and bowtie over the back of his chair as he took a seat, delighted as Damien presented him with a steaming cup of breakfast tea. Pip cast him a coy smile, one brow raised. "All right, what's going on? You never go all out for me, unless you want something." Damien laughed, shaking his head as he slid eggs, toast and bacon onto a plate, setting it in front of Pip with a tender kiss to his cheek.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," lied Damien smoothly, smirking as he turned toward the sink with his back to his lover to wash the pans and dishes he had used. Pip gave him an incredulous stare, but began to eat silently, not pushing it any further. Perhaps Damien was just doing something nice.

Yeah, right.

Pip ironed his shirt, straightened his tie, and was off within the next five minutes, but not after giving Damien quiet the smoky 'thank you' kiss. A giggle and a wink, and he skipped out the door, catching the bus to his job working in the bookstore in the heart of the town.

Damien sighed to himself with a tiny, fond smile as he watched Pip go off to work. Nothing in his entire life had ever made him happier than the blond bundle of sunshine, and Damien was pretty sure, almost one-hundred percent sure, that if Pip ever left his side, he would most likely die. No, he would definitely die. Pip had entered his life so suddenly, had taken his entire world by storm, turned it upside down and thoroughly rocked it to the core. And Damien wouldn't have wanted it any other way. This morning was only the start of his plan, and he was sure that tonight would be the night. Leaning up on his toes, he extracted the tiny velvet box from the top of the highest shelf in the kitchen, smiling fondly at it. They were almost done with their senior year in high-school, and he was planning on asking Phillip Pirrup to marry him. He had it all planned out in his mind; Pip would come home, Damien would greet him at the door and blindfold him, lead him to a candlelit dinner on the balcony, ask him for a dance, then get down on one knee. He'd then give him a bath, a massage, and end with another night of slow, impassioned lovemaking. It was perfect. Pip would be home at five, in seven hours, and Damien's plan would kick into action. For now, he was left to rush about the house, cleaning, and preparing it for his big night.

&*~*&

"You ready, Tweekers?"

Tweek gave a tiny nod, turning his attention away from the brick facility to face his lover, determination etched into the features of his face. Craig smiled, almost sadly and leaned forward, cupping beneath the blond's chin and bringing their lips together tenderly. "It's okay… It's gonna be okay, Tweek," breathed the male, taking a trembling hand in his own. "This will make you better, and if you need me, I'll be here in a heartbeat, no matter what time, no matter if it's a blizzard, or a-" A thin finger to his lips silenced him, and navy met mocha.

"Craig," started the blond, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, looking away a moment, before meeting Craig's eyes once more. "I'll be fine; I'll call you if I have a problem."

The calmness in his boyfriend almost frightened Craig. Tweek wasn't twitching, he wasn't screaming that he'd be killed or kidnapped. His eyes weren't afraid. Craig, on the other hand, felt like a nervous wreck, handing his lover over into the hands of complete strangers, to live there, until he got better. The thought of leaving Tweek to sleep alone, to be alone… Tweek's parents had agreed to this idea the instant Craig suggested it. The sooner Tweek was out of their hair, the better. And Tweek knew it, though he never said a word. The only reasoning behind his unnatural calmness was the fact that he wanted to get better, for his lover's sake, and for his own. If he was going to hallucinate about someone raping him, or about that someone being Craig, than he wasn't going to pass up a chance to get his head fixed.

He took a deep breath and kissed Craig a final time, before swinging the door open. In the trunk was his suitcase with clothes, and other essentials. Without looking back, he walked to the front doors through the iron-bar gate, ignoring the fact that this looked more like a prison, than anything else, and rung the bell. A voice crackled over the intercom, and Tweek gave a tiny yelp of surprise, but quickly regained his composure and pressed the button on the speaker with a shaking finger. "T-Tweek Tweak, I- I'm new." There was a pause, and a loud buzz, much like the half-time buzzer in a game of basketball, and Tweek was allowed inside.

The walls were white. The floors were white. The doors and the chairs in the hall and the clothes on the workers where white. The fluorescent lighting didn't help to calm his nerves now in overdrive. After a tiny mental pep-talk, he demanded his legs to work, and he made his way, following the tiny signs that led him to the receptionist's desk.

She sat calmly behind a chicken-wire grate that covered the space to the top border of the desk, to the surface of it, completely protecting her. The sight reminded Tweek of a caged bird, and he felt slight pity for her. When he approached the desk, she looked up and plastered a super-huge, super-fake smile on her face. Shimmering emerald eyes betrayed her completely as he noted the pity she had for him as he drew nearer. The sympathetic look made Tweek's skin itch, his blood boiling inside. How dare she actually look at him like that! But… As he thought about it, telling her his name with a jerky twitch and a stutter, he felt his anger recede. She had every right to look at him that way- the blonde knew he looked like a nut. The receptionist, Baker, as her nameplate read, tucked her flaming red hair behind her ear.

"Tweek Tweak… Senior in South Park High, average grades, homosexual. Boyfriend of Craig Tucker, friends of Phillip Pirrup, Leopold Stotch, Kenneth McCormick, and- oh! How interesting. Damien Thorn, the antichrist." A more tender smile played across her lips as she noticed Tweek's horrified look. "Oh, don't worry. We're not stalking you, Tweek. Your parents had to fill out an application, as best as they could before sending you here, so we could do background checks and such, to make sure that you're alright." Somehow, this did nothing to soothe over the sudden waves of paranoia. Would it be wrong to just turn and bolt out of there, sprint to the nearest bus station, and catch a ride to Craig's house?

Miss Baker must have caught on to his expression- again- and she laughed, a rich, clear-as-a-bell giggle. "Oh, the doors can't be opened. Not without my consent."

Great.

Tweek answered a few questions, and was soon lead to a singular bedroom where he was to stay during his recovery. At least the room wasn't white. It was rather dismal, but anything was better than the headache-inducing whitewash of the rest of the place. The blue walls were the color of Craig's eyes, Tweek came to realize, as he stretched his back onto the small bed. It reminded him almost of a hospital bed— there were even the buckle straps stuffed underneath the mattress, just in case. The thought made him extremely uncomfortable. Anyone could just waltz in, and-

"Hello?"

"GAH! Shit!" Tweek jumped from his position, hitting the floor with a loud thump and a yelp, eyes watering from pain from cracking his head on the dresser beside him. There was a deep, velvet chuckle as a man with thick curly brown hair stood in the doorway with a relaxed position, hands deep in the pockets of his black slacks. Mocha eyes turned toward the voice, and his cheeks flushed. That guy was a worker here!? He was positively gorgeous! Stormy blue-grey eyes, curly brown hair, a tall, lean physique, and a heart-throb smile. He was wearing what looked like a lab-coat, with a white undershirt and a black-and-white striped tie.

"I'm Doctor Leonard. You can call me David. I'll be your therapist, and starting today, your new best friend. You feeling alright?" His smile had faded into one of concern as Tweek gave a nod, rubbing the back of his head and getting to his feet with the help of the bed. He was only slightly dizzy now. "Right, here…" He moved closer to Tweek slowly, helping him sit down, and pulling a bottle of water from his pocket. He twisted the cap open and handed the bottle to the blond with a calming smile. Tweek felt better at the serene look and nodded his thanks, taking a sip.

The dizziness cleared after a while, and he was able to get a better look at his 'new best friend'. David looked to be in his thirties, or late twenties, and looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders with a smile. It must have come with the job of being a psychotherapist, though.

"I-I'm Tweek," he managed to mumble once he had quenched his thirst, and once the throbbing on his head had receded. The two passed time talking back and forth, and slowly, Tweek began to unwind. David was nice; he was very father-like in a way. As they became more familiar with each other, Tweek began to talk openly without being asked, becoming expressive and excited, then depressed and withdrawn, angry, giddy. David simply nodded, seeming to be enjoying himself, the conversation letting him get a feel of his patient.

When the clock struck for nine pm, David glanced at the digital clock. "Oh, would you look at that… Its late. Oh, here. You have insomnia, so this should help." He pulled a pill from a baggy in his pocket, and handed it to the blond, who dry-swallowed it gratefully. "I'm just going to leave a note. Our first 'official' meeting is tomorrow in my office, here are the directions." As he scribbled them down, Tweek felt drowsy. He curled up with a yawn and a nod, snuggling beneath the blankets. David laughed softly, and gave his head a pet. He figured Tweek would be alright sleeping in the sweats he had worn there, and the t-shirt. "Night, Tweek." He said, leaving the room after clicking the light off, and closing the door.

Tweek smiled to himself and cuddled down into the sheets. David was definitely someone he could trust. His smile wasn't plastic, and he wasn't wearing all white. After a while, he fell asleep to a static dream.

&*~*&

"Thank you, Pip!"

"Oh, it was nothing," replied the blonde merrily, sliding off his work smock, hanging it up in he back locker room. He sighed and fixed his hair, sweeping it up into an elastic, checking his appearance in the tiny mirror he'd hung up on the inside of the door of the locker, just for occasions like this.

"You got a date?"

"Oh hush, you," scolded the Brit softly toward his employer, Lockwood. The man laughed and shook his head, hands sliding into his pockets. Pip smiled and headed out of the back room to the main floor of the bookshop, toward the exit. "Oh, bollocks… It's raining." A pout and he worried his lower lip between his teeth. It was an absolute downpour. Feigning a sigh, the Brit pushed the door open and prepared for his sprint home. It would be useless to wait at the bus-stop; he'd be waiting in the waterfall of rain. Lockwood sidled up to him, leaning against the doorframe.

"Shit, would you look at that…" He ran a hand through his chocolate tresses, heaving a sigh. "Need a lift home?"

"Oh, would it be that much trouble?"

"Not at all!" replied the male with a smile, hand pressing itself between Pip's shoulders on his back, steering him away from the door. "Just go wait in the garage, I'll lock up." A nod, and Pip walked with a bounce in his step toward the locker room again. Some people, he mused, were just genuinely pleasant. Lockwood was one of those people.

As Pip hummed to himself, he didn't hear Lockwood's footsteps, or foresee the book swing at the back of his head. Pain dizzied his vision as the floor rose to meet him. Pip yelped when a hard tug to his hair brought him to his knees, and face-to-face with a crouching Lockwood. "You're comin' home with me."

"I-I'm afraid I can't," Pip tried to reason, whimpering as the hand tightened in his hair, twisting painfully. "You're hurting me!"

"Good," came the dark, flat reply as the brunette shoved Pip down to the floor, grabbing him by the back of his shirt to haul him over his shoulder. Pip cried out and flailed, screaming for help as he was brought out to the garage, toward his employer's green minivan. "Stay still, you stupid bitch!" Lockwood tossed open the trunk and fought with the blond as he struggled vigorously to escape, tears tracking down his face.

"Someone, please, help! Help me! Damien!" Pip's voice was becoming raw from screaming, and he began to cough. Before he could be stuffed into the back, he gave a final thrash to break the grip of his attacker. No such luck, and Pip lost a shoe in the process, before his world flashed white with pain, and then ceased to exist as he fell unconscious, Lockwood looming over him with a bat in hand and a smirk.

&*~*&

Damien sighed, eyes on the clock. It was late, two hours past Pip's usual arrival time home. The candles on the table had burned out, the wax pooling on the silver plates beneath them, the food as cold as the air. The rain was thick, and it was completely silent. Worry began to eat at him. Pip couldn't have gotten lost; he'd taken that route time and time again. Ten more minutes passed, before Damien got to his feet, grabbing his trench coat. He slid it on and held his hand out, palm-down as he whistled. There was a rush of smoke and flame, before a black, three-headed hound appeared with a howl.

"Cerberus, hey boy." He said with a tiny smirk, petting each head affectionately. "Dad been feeding you guys okay?" The happy barks made him laugh slightly. Cerberus had been with him since childhood. But all playfulness aside, Damien's smile faded. "Pip hasn't come home. He might have gotten lost. Here." He pulled a jacket from the rack, Pip's jacket, and let the each dog get a good sniff. "Alright. Lets go find him."

Damien opened the door, and watched his hound dash from the room, following the scent. The good thing was, that they'd be able to pick up the scent, even in the rain. He followed closely at a dash in the rain, watching his dog sniff, then bolt. It led him to his lover's work, and they howled outside the door. "He hasn't left?" The dog sat patiently, as Damien laughed to himself. "What an idiot… He probably fell asleep after closing up. Stand back." Cerberus rounded behind him, as Damien's hand fanned out, the glass shattering with an invisible blast. The dog jumped in, and ran around back.

The garage door was still open, and Damien felt his stomach turn. "Pip? Pipsqueak?" He glanced around, and noticed something shining on the floor. Crouching, he realized it was dried, and a muddy red. His stomach turned, and he followed his hound outside, heart jumping to his chest. "Fuck!" He slid to his knees on the gravel, ignoring the new tears on his jeans and skin as he lifted his boyfriend's shoe. His teeth clenched, head bowing. "…Pip…" He curled his fist around the converse sneaker, trembling in rage, or in sadness. Cerberus nudged one head to his side, and Damien pet him distractedly.

"Oh… Fuck… Whoever did this…" He got to his feet, mind racing. He felt dizzy. What if it was the same guy who got Tweek?

"SHIT!" the spawn gave a murderous scream, and the surrounding cars burst into flame spontaneously, glass flying everywhere. Blood leaked from a slice on Damien's cheek, and we wiped it off with his fingertips, tongue running over the crimson elixir. A smirk played onto his lips, his eyes blazing red, nearing black.

"Oh," his voice was dark, sharp and all-around terrifying. The full power of the antichrist was now being released. "You've fucked with the wrong demon. When I find you, I'm going to kill you. Slowly. I'm going to laugh as you suffer. I promise you that." His vow went deaf to the world under the pouring rain and wail of car alarms around him, as leathery black wings tore from his back, blood splattering the garage walls and floor around him. The plink of blood was heard as he walked slowly toward the exit, wings spanning to their full potential.

"Behold, the power of the Fallen Angel."