A/N: Hello folks. I've decided to make the second genre Romance, because while it isn't romantic at the moment, this isn't particularly an extreme adventure. It is a story to do with the coming of the Antichrist and there will be action, but it's much more to do with the struggles in his mind about love and humanity as well. If I could label it modern-day Gothic Romance then I would.

Gregory and Christophe were having what Gregory officially claimed a 'lunch-date'. Christophe had called him a faggot and hit him on the head with a spatula but the name stuck. It amused Gregory, who sometimes referred to Christophe as his boyfriend to strangers just for his own entertainment. And then strangers would go up to Christophe and ask him questions such as: 'Your boyfriend told us you could give directions to the nearest bank?' Christophe would sigh and roll his eyes with a smile and Gregory would laugh.

Gregory was walking to the restaurant and finding a sense of relief that it had become a lot easier, the wound in his leg now only stiffening his movements slightly.

He walked past some more graffiti and had to pause briefly to consider it. 'Beware warm-blooded killers.' Had they meant to put 'cold-blooded' and simply misunderstand the meaning of the phrase? Or had they really meant that one should be wary of people who killed in a spout of anger or intense burst of emotion? He looked closer. The colour of choice was red... And he wanted to say that it looked too thin to be paint. He hesitantly leant forward and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose at the result. Someone had written it in blood.

He frowned and walked on. The whole town was crazy.

When he arrived at City Wok, vaguely excited because he couldn't remember the last time he'd had Chinese, he noticed two people from his past that he wasn't expecting to see, primarily because he assumed they'd have escaped South Park years earlier.

Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski sat facing each other, finishing their meals, talking between mouthfuls and smiling. Gregory walked up to the counter, managing not to be seen. He wasn't purposefully avoiding them but he didn't particularly want to go over either. He'd act as if he hadn't seen them. He placed his order as he listened in to their conversation out of curiosity and just plain nosiness.

Stan's voice talked first: "Did you hear there's talk that the volcano very near us is going to erupt again?"

"It's just idiot talk," replied Kyle in an annoyed tone. "People are blowing a few small signs which could mean other things way out of proportion. What does your dad think?"

"He doesn't think it's possible, so everyone's blaming the lava Gods or something..."

Kyle sighed. "This fucking town. It can't be true. They make a big deal out of anything. That's why I moved."

"It's a shame this is your last day. I've enjoyed having decent company again." Stan sighed.

Gregory handed his money over the counter and watched Kyle raise his eyebrow. "Oh now that's not completely true. Let's not forget the girl you've been seeing." He looked to Stan's face for a reaction and saw he was violently blushing.

"How did you know?" mumbled Stan. "I haven't told anyone."

"I can just tell when you're loved up." Kyle grinned. "Even if I've only ever seen it with Wendy."

"Mmmm." Stan nodded. "Yeah."

"So who is she?"

Stan sighed. "I can't say right now. I promised I wouldn't."

It looked like Kyle was going to push for further information, not let Stan get away from him so easily, until he caught Gregory's eyes. His eyes went wide with shock and then he smiled. Gregory smiled back and then decided it would only be polite to go over and say hi. He placed one hand on their table when he got there and smiled again at Kyle.

"Hello."

"Hey, Gregory!" replied Kyle. "It's a nice surprise to see you again."

Gregory nodded his head. "You too." He turned his head to Stan, who was glaring down at the table. He jolted as Kyle must have kicked him and glared up at Gregory instead. "Hello, Stanley."

"Gregory," Stan grunted reluctantly.

"Always a pleasure." Gregory smirked. "Always." Stan's glare turned into a scowl.

"I'd say the same but I'd just be lying, like you."

Gregory laughed callously. "It's cute how you're hanging onto old grudges, Stanley. It really shows what a mature person you are..." He raised his eyebrow and turned his attention back to Kyle.

Kyle glared at Stan and smiled at Gregory. "So, are you just visiting or what?"

"Tophe and I are taking a break here for a while. I don't know how long really."

"Great," grumbled Stan.

"It sure will be," said Gregory, putting a hand on Stan's shoulder. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up."

"We need to go," Stan snapped, getting up and shrugging Gregory's hand off his shoulder. "It was... seeing you again, Greg." He pulled his coat on and walked towards the door. Kyle smiled apologetically and patted Gregory on the back.

"I'm so sorry about him. I'd have loved to catch up more but I've got to go with him."

Gregory waved his hand dismissively. "He has reason to act like that."

Kyle nodded and rushed to follow Stan. Gregory chuckled and walked to sit down at a table.

Christophe arrived very soon after, storming in the usual manner through the door, checking the area around himself for possible threats, and as always, any possible way an unwelcome visitor could make their arrival. Pulling off his coat, he thrust his arm out to hand it to Gregory. Gregory took it and put it on the back of his own chair; it was always the way. Before that, Christophe had been notorious for throwing his coat on the dirty floor, much to Gregory's dismay.

'Eef you care so much, beetch, zen put eet on ze back of your chair.'

So that is what Gregory, on principle, had done ever since.

"'Av you ordered?" Christophe asked, grabbing the menu and all but ripping it as he violently scanned it, as if daring the food he wanted to leap out at him.

Gregory took the menu out of his fingers and placed it back on the table. "I have ordered you the sweet and sour."

"Chicken?"

"Of course."

Christophe stretched and yawned in a more relaxed way. "I love you."

"Naturally," replied Gregory. He felt he'd got the timing right, as their order arrived only a minute after Christophe had arrived. He smelt the inviting aromas of his shrimp chow mein with glee. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had the opportunity to dine out properly with Christophe, even if it was only in a cheap Chinese, and his friend was covered in dirt from work.

He caught the eye of the Frenchman, greedily shovelling the chicken in his mouth like it was still alive and planning on running away. As Gregory gathered a fork of food, he made a dramatic scene of making Christophe pay attention to what he was about to say - not that it was very interesting. He just liked drama. "I just saw Stan and Kyle."

"'Oo?" grunted Christophe with a mouthful of rice.

"Kyle Broflovski- went to our high school, red hair, know-it-all. Stan Marsh... his best friend."

"Marsh?" Christophe paused, thinking and chewing. A look of realisation came to his face. "Ze boy you fucked, non?" He grinned. "Oh, I remember now."

Gregory banged his hand on the table, a momentary blush crawling to his cheeks. "Once! That happened once. I hate Stan Marsh. We were drunk."

"Oh, Stanley, I 'ate you but my deek loves you. Please get your ass een ze air," impersonated Christophe, in an unnecessary high-pitched voice and an even bigger grin on his face. He lowered his voice. "Oh, Gregory, I am drunk, please take advantage of my fragile state." He ended up in a fit of laughter, even having to set his cutlery down momentarily to rest his face in his hands.

Gregory was not impressed. He distinctly remembered it not happening like that, if you could call it anything at all. It was the result of a crashing a party, one too many vodka shots, a very comfortable looking bed to sleep in for the night, and the black-haired boy it belonged to. "He wasn't fragile."

Christophe spiked a chunk of chicken to his fork. "You took 'is virginity."

Gregory concentrated on his meal, impatient for the subject to change. "Yes." Stan would never admit it. It was one of the reasons he hated Gregory so much.

"He took yours?"

"No."

"Oh?"

"You know this."

"Because..."

"You did, Tophe."

"Zat's right, beetch. I rock." Christophe shoved the chicken into his mouth in triumph, chewing through his grin.

"Don't forget who took yours, arsehole," Gregory grumbled. He threw his fork onto his plate with considerable force. He leant forward, resting his head on his hands. He stayed like that for a few minutes as Christophe silently ate in front of him. The conversation ran through his mind. His day ran through his mind. It was all so unfulfilling. Gregory's mind felt like already it was a once fat and juicy worm, shrivelling and shrinking in the hot desert sun where it didn't belong. What was there to keep his mind occupied? Nothing. Could he survive like 'normal' people exercised their brains - through crosswords, puzzles, perhaps chess? No. He was not that type. He needed to plan. He needed to observe. He needed that adrenaline.

God, how did people live this way? His brain was already dying.

"Tophe, I'm bored. You have your job, I have nothing." Gregory tapped his hand impatiently on the table. "I can't cope with having nothing to do. I can already feel myself going insane."

"So get a job."

"And have someone telling me what to do? Not a fucking chance."

"Why don't I murder someone, 'ide ze body and zen you 'av to find eet?" Gregory pursed his lips and stared into space for a few moments contemplating the idea. His only worry was if someone else found the body first. Christophe sighed and cut his thoughts off. "Mon ami, I was joking. I 'ope you're not seriously considering cold-blooded murder as a boredom reducer?"

"When have I ever murdered in anything else?"

Christophe grunted and slouched back on his chair, crushing a prawn cracker into small pieces. "What about Wendy? She's still in ze town right?"

Gregory flicked his eyes to Christophe. "You want me to murder Wendy?"

The Frenchman chuckled. "Non, mon leetle extrovert, I meant pay 'er a visit."

Wendy was still in the town the last Gregory had heard. She was in something to do with the medical profession working at Hell's Pass. He gave in. "I suppose that's not the worst idea you've ever had."

Later that day when Christophe went back to the apartment and told him to go be social with someone else, Gregory found himself walking to Wendy's house - the new one he'd found she'd moved into last time he visited. He knocked on the door and it swung open to a squeal of delight. The girl on the other side threw her arms around him, wide grin on her face.

"Gregory!" She squeezed tightly and he took in her scent, which was almost sensual and never failed to remind him of his teenage years. "What a surprise!"

Gregory grinned and hugged her back with one arm. "Hello, Wendy."

She drew away, still beaming, but hit him with a sharp punch on the arm. "Not one phone call for so long! You could have been dead in a ditch for all I knew!"

"Go easy on me... it's my birthday."

"Gregory, your birthday is the sixth of June, don't bother trying to lie."

"Oh... I'm a rotten friend." He smirked and pulled a bunch of flowers from behind his back. It was a beautiful bouquet of pink roses, lilies and hot pink gerberas, among seed eucalyptus, picked out with a sharp eye and arranged expertly. He held them in front of her. "Can I be forgiven, darling?"

She rolled her eyes. "You think it's that easy to charm me?" But she took them from him and sniffed them, nodding in approval. "It's a good thing you're so gay. These are lovely."

Gregory held up his hands in honesty. "I really wish I could take credit, but it's Christophe who has the passion and sorted them for me." He'd always been in awe of that skill. Christophe often hid his creative mind, but Gregory knew that when he combined it with his love of gardening, flower arranging came naturally.

She laughed and stepped aside for him to enter. "Well you tell Christophe they're lovely." Gregory nodded and stepped inside, wiping his feet.

Wendy's house was just as spotless as he remembered. Everything had its place and stayed there. Even little thing such as the television remotes were placed at a precise angles next to it. After a quick scan of the house, Gregory knew more than he could find out in an hour's conversation with her, and he was blunt so he came straight out with what he wanted to say, after Wendy had made them tea and they sat down.

"So... you're pregnant."

Wendy gasped and looked up from her drink. "Who told you?" she asked in alarm. She frowned. "I- I haven't told anyone, not even the father!"

Gregory grinned. "It's so obvious to me. You look pale like you've just thrown up, I can smell bleach coming from the downstairs bathroom and looking around this house, you're obviously living with a man." He leant in. "And if you're keeping it a secret then I'd recommend hiding that a bit better." He pointed to a small pamphlet from the doctor's, sticking out of a women's magazine.

Wendy nodded slowly. "I forget how good you were at doing that..."

Gregory frowned - not nearly good enough when trying to work out secrets revolving around himself. "So... boyfriend?"

Wendy stared ahead of her. "Yeah... Jack." She spoke slowly. "He moved here about four years ago. I instantly fell for him." She shook her head.

"And the baby's his?"

"Who else's would it be?" she snapped, almost too quickly.

Gregory raised his eyebrow. "I don't know. You tell me."

Wendy glared. "It's his. It's his." She clenched her fists. "Shut up, Gregory. It's his."

"Fine. Kid yourself and lie to me if you want to. I'm here when you want to admit the truth. Here for now anyway."

Wendy sighed in exasperation. "How long are you staying for?"

"I don't know. As long as Christophe continues to insist that we need a break or whatever the hell he's calling it." Gregory was still going to blame their change of location on Christophe, and make out that he wasn't happy about it, because leaving South Park and forgetting Damien in the hope of not being followed was probably the wisest decision. Though Christophe's logic seemed to be that as long as they knew where Damien was, they were safer.

"A break from each other?" Wendy rubbed Gregory's shoulder sympathetically. "You're not having relationship problems are you."

Gregory laughed callously. "How many times did I have to tell you when we were younger that him and I are just friends? Granted we have certain benefits but we're still only friends."

"But the way you always looked at each other..."

"Friends."

"Well I know you had a crush on someone when we were younger, because that was definitely the reason we broke up. There was someone else."

Gregory's face gave no knowing away, but he knew she was right. The person was Stan and the reason he'd ever got with her was to spite him. Gregory shook his head - she could never know. He valued her friendship even if it was tainted by his poisonous personality, like everything else in his life. He couldn't think of one thing or person - save Christophe - that he hadn't messed around in some way to suit his own needs. And he was convinced that the only reason he hadn't messed Christophe around was because the Frenchman was too lethal himself.

"Someone... yeah

maybe. But it wasn't Tophe. Besides, we broke up because you're not male."

"Okay. So what is it a break from? What do you even do?"

Gregory used his usual lie for situations like this. "I draw up plans for demolitions of buildings, making sure it's all safe, calculating the quantities of explosions needed and such. Christophe changes, but he has a job digging graves at the moment - he considers digging a relaxing break from his other job."

Wendy looked at Gregory expectantly.

"A night-guardsman. Terrible hours, rough area. Not nice."

Wendy nodded. "Right, so that's your cover for mercenary work. Glad to know in case anyone ever asks me."

Gregory raised an eyebrow at her, quite surprised by her knowledge, but not overly shocked. "You really are a very smart girl."

Wendy sighed and touched her stomach. "Sure, very smart."

Gregory smiled and wrapped his arm around her. "It will work out, Wendy. Just have faith."

It was a little while later when Gregory and Wendy had talked about Wendy's job and Gregory had filled her in on as many details from what he'd been doing as he thought suitable, that the door opened and a very male voice called out:

"I'm home!"

Wendy smiled. "That'll be Jack." Gregory looked up as he entered the room. Jack looked across and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, you got company." His eyes flicked over Gregory.

Gregory stood up, out of courtesy, to shake the man's hand. Though, if first impressions were anything to go by, he really didn't like Jack. His broad shoulders and strong muscles were crammed into a tight-fitting flannel shirt. The way he stood drew attention to his crotch, which clearly he wanted Gregory to look at just so he could get an accusatory glare in his eye. He chewed on gum with a sleazy leer on his face. Gregory could see that beneath the persona he was very sharp-minded but didn't use it in the most intellectual ways. He was not the type of man anyone expected Wendy Testaburger to be with.

That was his initial impression anyway. He usually wasn't wrong... Usually.

He stopped himself from thinking about how wrong he'd got Damien.

"Nice to make your acquaintance," said Gregory, making sure his grip was just as firm as Jack's.

Jack smiled smugly. "Hello."

Wendy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend, kissing him a little too eagerly and he, in turn, squeezed her ass, mumbling some highly offensive words which need not be repeated. Gregory did not want to be subjected to hearing such sexist words of what he supposed was affection. It shocked him that Wendy allowed them since he and her always used to fight sexism. If Jack wasn't around, and she wasn't pregnant, he'd tell Wendy to leave him straight away. He guessed she had some problems there; it was already clear she was cheating on him.

"Well, I need to go now. It was so lovely to see you again, Wendy."

"Please do visit any time, Gregory."

"Gregory... you mean your ex-boyfriend Gregory?" Gregory could feel Jack's eyes probing over him, taking in his hair and outfit, reading his face. Gregory knew exactly what was about to be said. "But, he's a fag." Yep, there it came. How predictable.

"Don't be rude," scalded Wendy.

"But look at him!" Jack pointed to Gregory as if he wasn't even there. He was playing the alpha male, trying to intimidate the others, like Gregory even cared. "I bet he can't even walk straight."

What had Gregory done to bother this guy so much apart from breathe?

He shook his head and announced, "As engrossed as I am in this conversation I really must be going."

He quickly walked out the door, listening as Wendy scalded her arrogant prick of a boyfriend. And though Gregory knew he himself could be an arrogant prick, he at least did it in a classy way and usually gave himself a very good reason for behaving as such. That guy was just a dick. Visiting Wendy again was out. Planning Jack's death may have been on the table...

...No. Not worth it.

It was already falling dark when Gregory left Wendy's house, which baffled him slightly; it wasn't that late in the evening. He didn't think too much about it though as the Earth knew what it was doing and there was no way anyone could interfere with it. He laughed to himself, thinking how he always jumped to the conclusion that it was somebody's fault and not just simply the way the world worked.

"Something funny?"

Gregory was shocked almost enough to scream. His body flinched into defensive mode and he wheeled around, ready to punch whomever was there. He gasped when he saw the shockingly black hair and pale almost glowing face of Damien, smirking down at him.

"You!" exclaimed Gregory, reaching for the rapier from his belt that he knew wasn't there. Instead he clutched empty air. He didn't know what he would have been planning to do with it anyway.

"I was funny?" Damien grinned. "I wasn't aware I'd told a joke."

"Shut up!" Gregory shouted in anger. "How can you be acting so care-free?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"No, considering the fact you tried to kill me, and then talked to me like nothing had happened. What did you think? That I'd go home with you and never know? That you could use me some more and then kill me?"

Damien held his hands up defensively, black flickering into his eyes - it must have been the darkness? "I told you. You were the wrong person."

Gregory gritted his teeth and stepped closer, keeping his eyes fixed with Damien's. "I don't believe you. In fact, I know you're lying."

"Oh, of course, you're Christophe's partner." Damien scoffed. "He's probably told you more about me. He's probably poisoning your mind."

"Tophe always tells me the truth." Though Gregory knew these words weren't strictly true, he didn't need to admit this to Damien.

"Sure he does." He shook his head and trailed his eyes over Gregory. "I'm sure he enjoys having you to play with." He stared into Gregory's eyes with a cold snarl on his lips. He didn't have any of the warmth he'd had in the bar, or even the slight warmth of the previous minutes. It was as the other man didn't exist, or was buried deep down, so deep that all traces of his charm had suffocated. "Fine. You were the right person, but I'm no longer interested in killing you."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?"

Damien shrugged. "I don't care if you believe it or not." He mirrored the blond's actions and stepped closer to Gregory. "Unless of course you start digging around, because I've heard you like doing that."

"You tried to kill me, maybe I am going to dig around."

"It's a bad idea. It's an idea that could make me change my mind about killing you."

Gregory scoffed this time. "You don't scare me."

"I should."

Gregory leant in and whispered in what to anyone else would be a truly terrifying voice, "You don't."

Damien playfully snapped his teeth at Gregory then and laughed. "Can I buy you another drink, Blondie?"

"What?!" snapped Gregory, completely caught off guard.

"Well, if you get me drunk enough I may just spill all my secrets to you." Damien smirked. "I can be a lot of fun when I'm drunk." He traced his eyes down Gregory's body and back up slowly. "Maybe you can to."

"Stay away from me. And stay away from Tophe too."

Damien held a hand to his heart. "I was only asking, beautiful." It was a game. It was all a game to him. Something in the proud way he held himself, his confidence, his arrogance, gave him the power. Gregory had to remember this and not let the fluttering in his stomach get anywhere near his head. Damien was trying to mess with his mind.

"Fuck off." He shoved past Damien and began the cold walk back to his apartment, feeling heated and angry and in need of a sharp drink.

"So... I'll be waiting for you at ten in the bar!"

"You'll have a very long wait!"

Next time:

"I remember elementary school and I remember you were the only one that was nice to me, not that I really care about that." Damien frowned. "Out of sentimental value I'd always have liked to keep you as a pet but you insist on loving Jesus, which is a stupid move because you're still not going to get into Heaven when the time comes..."

"Damien, what did you come here for?"

"To remind you that if you tell anyone who I truly am I'll tear your flesh and lock you in my basement where you'll never be found." He shrugged. "Your choice."