Author's Note: I didn't want to write another chapter with Bud and Nelly, I don't think I could do it. I might explore it later but I feel this is enough for now. Anyway, for all intents and purposes they do go to lunch and everything is "fine" except Kenny throws around comments directed to Bud which causes their lunch to be short. Butters doesn't mind. That's what I see in my mind, at least. I just... after this I don't have it in me to write Bud.

This is very personal. Please heed caution with this chapter. There is a trigger warning for the beginning, it's graphic. And... just fucked up. This was the most difficult chapter I have ever written. I'm actually shaking, so please take this warning seriously.

Thank you for your views, favorites, and reviews.

Chapter Title from "Howard's Tale" by The Sick Puppies

Chapter Forty: Now It's Over, I Need Closure

"You know I love you very much." Butters nodded as he heard the gentle voice. "And I'm showing you just how much I love you. You're a good boy, Butters. You're a very good boy."

"I-I am?" He asked, he heard a soft laugh and felt a hand caress down his back, to his bottom. The other hand, strong and huge on his little body, separated his legs and he squirmed uneasily.

"The best," Butters beamed at that, and laughed as he felt those warm fingers tickle him. "It's why I don't have any children. They couldn't replace you, because I don't love anyone as much as you." Butters whimpered as he felt one of those large fingers glide down his back, in between his rump, and settled at his hole.

"W-w-what about Aunt Nelly?" His uncle laughed sadly and kissed his forehead. Butters yelped as he felt the finger poke into his body. "U-uncle Bud, w-what are you...?"

"Your Aunt Nelly doesn't understand me like you do, buddy," Butters bit his arm as tears fell from his eyes. His heart swelled at the words, though, and he looked to his uncle as he waited for the next sentence, "it's why you're so special. You're my Butters. And I love you so much; this will only hurt for a minute. And remember I love you."

Kenny gasped as he heard a cry that tore him from sleep. He startled and jumped into a sitting position, shaking from his dream, and turned as he felt Butters thrashing in his sleep.

"No, n-no..." He put a hesitant arm on Butters' shoulder and felt him jerk away from him. A low whine was heard, and Kenny bit his lip as he watched Butters shake with sobs. He let out an unintelligible scream, and he swore under his breath as Karen ran into the room.

The brunette girl looked to Kenny and tilted her head slightly.

"I thought..." she trailed off, Kenny shook his head.

"Kar, I'm okay, but I need to wake Butters. Go to your room, okay?"

"But-" she protested and crossed her arms. Kenny sighed and stiffened as he heard another pained moan and felt Butters jerk.

"Karen, please?" he begged. The fifteen year old sighed heavily and nodded before she closed the door. He heard her footsteps pad to her room, and once she heard her door shut, he turned on the lamp next to him.

"Lee," Kenny coaxed gently, unsure of how to approach this. He didn't want to scare him, and touching him seemed out of the question.

What bothered him the most was he knew what was going through his mind; he knew what he was dreaming. It boiled his blood and made him want to drive to Denver and make Bud suffer for what he did.

But this was something he couldn't fix, no matter how hard he tried. They were both irreparable, damaged and tattered with their own scars to bare. But he could try his hardest to make him feel better, to ease that pain. And Butters wasn't ruined; he still had his innocence, he still had his light.

He just never had a chance to have closure. And now more than ever he needed it.

"I don't know what to do..." Kenny whispered with a tight voice, "I don't know how to fix you..." his eyes stung and his raw hand trembled as he pressed his fingertips on Butters' temple. A noise rumbled in his throat and Kenny closed his eyes as he rested his head on Butters'. "Wake up, Lee... wake up."

Butters screamed and his eyes burned as he felt his uncle's movements. Slow and deliberate, staining his naivety with the worst intentions. His body burned and his blood trickled down his baby soft skin, onto the blue sheets; forever stained.

"You're a good boy, you're so good..."

"N-no, s-s-stop..."

"Open your eyes," he shook his head and squeezed them tighter; he couldn't see this. It hurt it hurt it hurt oh God it hurts... every touch a sharp hand to the skin. "You're okay, you're okay..." Butters shook his head and whimpered softly as he felt a hand in his hair.

"Stop," he begged, tears flowing freely as he gave up on his struggle. He was too little, there was nothing he could do. His body wasn't his anymore, he was just going with the motions, waiting for this to end.

"Lee, please?" Butters let out a pained moan; his uncle should never say that name. No one should say that name. It wasn't theirs to say, except Kenny. Kenny.

"Oh God," he cried out, fighting against the touches and the thrusts and the pain. This couldn't happen. But he was just a little boy. He was scared and how could he fight back. He was little, too little to do any damage. He just wanted the pain to stop. Stop.

"Lee, come on, please wake up? Open your eyes, you're okay, you're okay..."

"Stop touching me," he forced through gritted teeth as he swung a punch. The movements stopped. He kicked a leg, thrashed about.

He wasn't a little boy anymore. He was seventeen years old. He couldn't live under that fear, that terror that gripped him for years in the middle of the night. It wasn't his fault, he had been just a little boy. So why did he feel so wrong? Why did he feel he was to blame?

"Lee," he heard that voice, only Kenny called him that. No one else thought to. No one else ever said that name. He whimpered as the pain stopped, his body numb and sore and spent. A warm hand rested on his temple, fingers raking through his hair. Kenny. "Lee, wake up, open your eyes, you're okay. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you, I won't let them. I'll help you, you're okay. Just stop... wake up."

Butters let out a whine and curled his body into the warmth, the inviting arms. The body with no face. There was yellow. Yellow everywhere. Warm, radiating. The arms pulsed with warmth as he was surrounded by their protection. And the smell... Kenny. It was Kenny.

"Everything will be okay, maybe not today or tomorrow, but it will be. I'm here for you, Buttercup. I've got you and I'm not letting go until you know you're safe and sound. I won't let you go, okay? You're okay, I've got you. Shh... just wake up, open your eyes. Wake up."

Butters whimpered as he opened his eyes. The soreness left his body as his lashes fluttered and he took in a deep breath. Kenny.

"Lee?" Kenny murmured, caressing a hand through his hair. The bright blonde made a noise and looked up slowly. He whimpered as he locked eyes with Kenny, who was clutching his nose as it oozed with blood. Butters scrambled away from him at that, and quickly sat up.

"Y-you're bleeding!" Kenny shrugged and wiped his nose on his arm.

"That's the least of my concerns, hon. Are you okay?" Butters lowered his eyes and felt a shiver trail down his spine. He wrapped his arms around himself and sniffled as tears came to his eyes. His throat burned and he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

"No," He whispered finally. Kenny instantly wrapped his arms around him and Butters let out a choked sob as the tears finally fell from his eyes. He clutched tightly to Kenny's shirt and burrowed his head in his chest. With every shake in his shoulders and strangled gasps, Kenny rubbed his back and kissed his head. His tears left watermarks on his shirt, and Butters just wished to hide against Kenny.

He couldn't do this.

His father beat him. His mother thought he was a monster. His uncle raped him. His aunt was oblivious.

They were supposed to love him. They were supposed to make sure these things never happened to him and show him love. But how was he capable of love when all he had ever been shown was violence and cruelty? How was he so good? Was he good? Or was he just like them? How long would it take for him to finally snap like his mother, and who would be left in the mess?

"I'm a monster," he screamed into Kenny's skin. He heard a sniffle from the younger boy, and his arms tightened around him. "I'm so fucked up, I deserve this, Ken." The ash blonde boy shook his head and cupped Butters' cheeks in his hands. He forced him to look up, into his eyes, and gave a gentle shake.

"Leopold, you don't deserve anything but love," Butters shook his head.

"But they do love me-" Kenny sighed heavily.

"They may love you, but they have never shown you an ounce of the love you truly deserve. You're such a good person, you're so good-"

"Don't say that," Butters gasped, wriggling in Kenny's arms. "Don't tell me I'm good. Don't call me a good boy."

"But you are-"

"My uncle would say that... you're so good... you're such a good boy..." Butters shuddered and Kenny bit his lip. His cheeks were red, and the bright blonde shook his head as he buried his face in his hands. "I'm just used, Kenny. Passed on from one person to the other to be their replacement doormat until someone better comes along to hurt. But in the end I'm the one who's hurt the most because no one truly wants-"

"I want you," Kenny whispered, "no, I don't want you. I need you, in my life, always." Butters let out a woeful wail in Kenny's arms and clutched him tighter. "You're not my doormat, you never have been. You're my door."

"How am I a door?" Kenny smiled sadly.

"Before you were my boyfriend I didn't see a good life for me. But you're the reason I'm smiling today; as my best friend, as my boyfriend. Whatever. You showed me there is more to life than what I saw, because all I saw was death. You're my door, because you led me to better things. A better me."

"Why don't I feel like that?" Butters asked finally, "why do I feel stuck? Am I my own doormat?"

"Because you never had closure," Kenny replied as he caressed his back. "And now your life has been turned upside down and you're forced to pick up the pieces and keep up appearances while your family is just... a mess. And your aunt and uncle are here and now... now you have to deal with that."

"I don't want to deal with it!" Butters cried, "I don't want to think about it! I don't! It's been years and years and... he still scares me. One look and I'm back in my bedroom and..." Kenny lowered his eyes and reached a shaking hand to Butters. The smaller boy squeezed his hand and let out a shuddered gasp. "And I'm just... I've never owned my body. I've never been in control, y'know? My body isn't mine. And I wonder... I can't help but wonder if that's the reason I'm so fucked up. I wet the bed for years, I had to wear a goddamn diaper until the fifth grade in case I had an accident. One look from my uncle caused me to freeze because I knew, I knew what was on his mind. Is he the reason I'm so messed up? Is he the reason I'm gay? Is he the reason I can't see myself as any gender? Will he be the reason I lose my goddamn mind?!" Butters was screaming now, screaming for the world to hear. All were deaf but one, and Kenny's eyes burned as he listened to him. From outside his room, Kenny heard footsteps on the stairs, and he finally inhaled. He didn't know how long he had been holding his breath.

From his time with the school counselor he knew there were all kinds of effects from rape. He knew from his own research that wetting the bed and the lack of control in the bowels could be induced by trauma and rape. He knew that, and he knew Butters did too. But he wasn't there to diagnose him. He wasn't there to make him feel as if he was a victim in his own skin. Because he didn't take it. Kenny didn't agree with being diagnosed with anything. Any psychiatrist, doctor, or therapist could tell him yeah, he had post-traumatic stress disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder. They could shout it to him, but he knew it was just a ticket for medications that would make him numb to everything. He didn't want to be numb, he didn't want to be void of anything. He hurt, and he was scared, but at least he was alive and could feel. It was just a ticket to get pity and a diagnosis and to be filed as something besides "fucked up" like he knew he was. He had always been.

Kenny and Butters were so different, but in some sense they were exactly the same. For his entire life, Butters had been shown love in all of the wrong ways. His family had warped his mind into thinking rape and sexual abuse was the best way to express love. Beatings and being told he was worthless were signs of affection. If he did as he was told and kept his mouth shut about anything and everything he was a good boy. One step out of line, one disagreement, one little thing and he was nothing more than a disgrace. He was brainwashed into thinking everything was his fault and he had to fix everything and everyone. Being a pushover and letting people walk all over him was his way of knowing people cared; if people were happy, he did a good job. Even if it hurt him. But the sick part about it was Butters was good. In every sense of the word; so why did that have to be taken away from him? Why did some monster have to completely twist the meaning and the feelings in the most innocent person Kenny knew into thinking being good was a bad thing? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair and there was no way Kenny could change it; no matter how hard he tried. Butters was so good, the best person Kenny knew, and he would never be able to let him know that.

Kenny, on the other hand, knew what sex was and had been obsessed with it. In a sense it had warped him as well, only he understood what sex was and what it meant. Or at least what he thought it meant. He was a whore, and no one expected anything more of him. So being raped was nothing more than a shock to him; or that's what everyone thought. He knew people joked about it. Everything he thought he knew about sex was... wrong. After giving himself to Butters he realized that. And after being raped he knew he was never to be allowed of such innocence and naivety. Perhaps it was part of his curse, knowing and being wrong... in every sense of the word. Everything about Kenny was wrong. And he knew it. So why did Butters take the time to make him feel otherwise? Kenny wasn't good. He wondered if a part of him deserved what he got, karma for his lack of care. He had to grow up fast, and he did. Too fast... so now he wondered if he had never been a child all along. Now was he just the same as those who wronged Butters? Had he done him wrong? He had to have... everything about him was wrong. He was wrong.

In their own eyes they were wrong, yet to each other they were right. They weren't comfortable in their own skin but here they were, holding one another tight and feeling the most comfortable they had ever felt. Good and bad, right and wrong... did it apply to them? Without one, where would the other be? Kenny shook his head and felt tears fall from his eyes as he cradled Butters to him.

He wanted to fix them, make them right; but would that make Butters wrong in his arms? Would letting Butters be good make him bad? Would Kenny being innocent make him wrong? It was a vicious cycle, repeating itself and perhaps this is the way they were meant to be. Permanently fucked up in this even more fucked up world they were meant to live in. He wanted to take away the hurt. He wanted to make them better; but perhaps they were already fixed. He sure didn't feel like it, and Butters didn't either. He knew that from the way he had broken down in his arms.

They were nothing except stripped to their very core. Raw.

Was that meant to be?

"You're not fucked up," Kenny choked, his lip trembled as he heard Butters' teary scoff, "it doesn't matter if you wet the bed or shit your pants, that doesn't make you you. You are Leopold Stotch, your pain, your rape, the fact that you might be a little messed up doesn't define you. Your love does. Your happiness does. Your uncle doesn't have control of you, you are in control of your body. Fuck gender, fuck girls and fuck boys and fuck being gay. That has nothing to do with the amazing person you are. It's all just pieces to chip away to find the soul beneath. And I love you, Lee. I love you for exactly who you are, your pieces, messed up or perfect condition, as they are. I'm fucked up too. Maybe we're both crazy and belong in an insane asylum, but we can be crazy together."

Butters laughed hollowly at that and rested his head on Kenny's heart. He listened to the quiet beats and furrowed his eyebrows.

"You have a weird heart pattern," Kenny raised an eyebrow. That wasn't what he had expected Butters to say. He smiled a little, however, and ruffled Butters' hair.

"That's just 'cause I'm weird," Butters snorted and actually laughed through his tears. Kenny grinned and squeezed him tight.

"Do... do you really think that about me? That all of that stuff doesn't define me?" Kenny nodded. "But it makes me... me."

"What makes you you is the kindness and goodness in your heart, your innocence, happiness. You're beautiful. The little things and traits in a person have nothing to do with their soul. You're so bright, you're so good."

"You're warm," Butters murmured, "I think your soul is yellow." Kenny tilted his head but said nothing as he caressed Butters' shoulder. "Like the sun, warm and bright and good. Kind of like orange too. But yellow."

"Yours is white then," Kenny mumbled back, "God... I love you. I love you so much, Leopold." Butters sniffled and wrapped his legs around Kenny, wishing he could just disappear in his arms. "Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. No one will touch you, no one will hurt you. I will die to make sure you're alive and well. I'll take a bullet for you, go through fire, swim to the bottom of the ocean... make sure Bud is never around you, alone, again. Whatever... I will protect you, and I won't fail you. I promise." Butters whimpered at that, and held tighter to Kenny. He didn't want to think about Kenny dying for him, or at all. But he knew he meant each and every single word. And he could feel his protectiveness all around him, in his grasp, his breath, his body, and the air around them. "But before I can protect you... you need closure."

"Closure?" Butters whispered, Kenny nodded. Butters stiffened at that, and felt Kenny's thumbs kneading the back of his neck. "What... what do you mean?"

"With what happened to you, Lee, you just... you have to say it. It's going to eat at you until you finally just say it. I was raped. I was raped by three guys and a broken bottle..." Butters whimpered and felt tears burn his eyes. "I want to help you."

"I was raped."

The air was stifling and Butters couldn't breathe. It was like he was in his room, with Bud's hand around his neck as he screamed for someone to help. Or tried to. He had to stay quiet or he wasn't a good boy.

"I was raped by my uncle."

The slaps to the skin and the burning and the blood and smell. Butters would never get over that. His stomach felt queasy and he was choking.

"For years."

He was sure the only reason why it still didn't happen was because he chose to stay at someone else's house when his aunt and uncle were in town. He couldn't imagine going through that now. He would be wrecked.

"I was just five years old..."

He was wrecked.

"And I thought I was a good boy, doing what I was told."

Tears fell from his eyes and he choked on a sob as Kenny squeezed him tight. The air was heavy with his admission, but he could breathe. He said it. Years and years of fear lingered in the air, all around them. But it seemed a weight had been lifted from his body, and for the first time since he was just a child, he could finally breathe. And it felt good.