Author's Note: You may not realize it but this is important. Very important. On a completely unrelated note (if you don't read that with sarcasm then good for you) I have the end fogured out and am two chapters and an epilogue away from the end... where I'm currently at. There are like 15 chapters left for you :). And then there will be the missing scenes and stuff. Thank you so much for reading and your reviews! Hello to the Phillipines and Denmark!

Chapter Forty-Six: Like a Phoenix from the Fire

Wings and yellow. Everything was yellow. He didn't hurt. He was floating.

Everything flashed through his mind like a black and white film with a grain effect. Except it was all yellow. He watched as he saw a little blonde boy, wearing nothing but clothes in dirty tatters, was forced to wait on the doorstep of a nice house. The door opened, and he saw what looked like his father grab the small boy and slam the door.

Inside he was introduced as the new servant. He was told not to have any interaction with the servant but he was just his age. He didn't have any siblings and maybe they could be like brothers. Or best friends.

They grew up together and secretly spent time together by the single flame of a candle in the middle of the night. When he went to school, he taught their servant to read and later found out he could draw exceptionally well. Just like he hoped they became friends, the best of friends, and as a young child he couldn't wait for their late night meetings.

Except as they grew older his servant, no, his friend, spent more and more time away from him in the middle of the night. He always came to him sweating and shaking and looked uncomfortable when sitting. He never asked why, he never told, and perhaps he didn't want to know.

Then one night his servant told him he was from a royal family in Ireland. He couldn't help but laugh; Ireland! Of all places? It explained his strange accent, at least. But the look on his face told him he was serious. His family had had a problem and his parents had been killed, leaving his brother the ruler of their clan. However, to make ends meet he was sold to the highest bidder, to return when he was twenty-one. He said he didn't know if he could go back after all of this. He asked what he meant, but he said nothing more of it.

He never went back. He never had the chance.

Butters felt tears in his eyes as he watched the two young teenagers, so familiar, talking as they walked through the village market; the only time they could appear in public together. They were laughing and genuinely happy, comfortable in each other's presence, the taller one seemed to struggle to walk at times, and he felt sick as he watched a carriage speed through the road. The smaller boy froze in fear and was pushed out of the way by his servant, who took the impact head on. After regaining his footing, he turned to thank his servant, but saw him laying on the cobblestone, blood flowing from his body; dead.

He felt sicker, however, when he watched the smaller boy pick him up so no one else would take him. He carried him, on his own, away from the village, down the dirt path, to the greenest scene he had ever seen, with a bright blue sky shining on them as if it were a pool's reflection. He watched as he made his way to a bridge. Felt himself screaming as he saw the boy stare down in the water. He couldn't keep from watching as the boy threw them both off, into the unforgiving river. The teen died upon impact with a boulder, and the two were carried down the stream; hand in hand.

The scene faded to something slightly more familiar, yet definitely in the past. Butters watched as a band of wagons traveled down the way; like the Oregon trail, or the gold rush. He wasn't quite sure, as they all looked the same in text books. Yet a lanky boy with straw blonde hair caught his eye as he watched from a hill. The boy, about twelve or thirteen, walked away from his post at the oxen, which earned yelling from his mother and his older brother was forced to take his place. The straw blonde boy ran passed the other caravans, waving and greeting everyone as he did so. He stopped when seeing a blonde boy, about his age, also leading the oxen; like he was supposed to be doing. Butters watched them talk a little bit, then the straw blonde boy ran down the way.

He did that every day. Except after awhile he only ran to the other boy's. Then he stayed there. Every morning the smaller blonde boy would be greeted with a cheery, grinning Cheshire cat of a boy who really liked to talk. But somewhere down the line they became best friends and he knew he'd miss the early morning greets and constant chatter.

Eventually their families settled, in the same town, yet he was still greeted every morning by that boy's presence at his window, or in his room. They would then walk to school together, or help each other with their chores, or homework. They spent their time together from sun up to sun down. When they grew old enough to start their own lives and move out of their homes they each purchased property as neighbors. Their bond was constantly the talk of the small town. Eventually they started their own families; but every morning he was woken up by a gentle knocking on his door; just like that poky boy from years ago.

Eventually he got sick and the now lanky man would be at his side every morning and every night. He couldn't break the fever, and Butters felt his heart sink when he finally died, leaving the lanky straw blonde boy, now man, to bury him. He had a proper funeral; and their families stayed close. The straw blonde man had one more child, and he named the baby boy after his best friend. Every morning until he could walk no more, that lanky man would make his way to that little cross up on the hill and sat in silence, until the day he died; he was found laying at the grave.

Butters stared at the face of the man walking from the accountant office with briefcase in hand. Rain poured heavily down on him, and he opened his umbrella to walk home after a long day's work. His mirror image walked down the sidewalk, to an alley, which he used as a short cut to his home every night.

Except tonight he was grabbed in the shadows and thrown on a wall. His briefcase and coat were taken, umbrella forgotten on the ground as his pockets were searched. His wallet was gone in a moment, and he heard the click of a gun. He closed his eyes and waited for the bright pain and the brighter white light to take him to heaven.

Except when he heard a gun shot he didn't feel anything. He opened his eyes to find a tall man with slicked back hair and a suit standing close to him. His attacker was on the ground, dead. He opened his mouth to thank the man, although he was probably a gangster himself, but he was jerked by his hand and quickly pulled out of the darkness. The man in the suit opened his mouth to speak, but was silence as a gun shot rang through the air. His blood splattered the scene and grey tissue he recognized with nausea as brain fell from his head upon collapsing on the ground.

As if no time had passed he was walking down an alley again. This time in red jeans and an overly large sweater with a scarf. The sound of a scuffle was heard and Butters watched as his reflection ran down the alley, and with the dim light of an old brick apartment, found a man pinning another to the brick wall, with his hand over the younger boy's mouth as he fought against the apparent ministrations. He pulled him away and watched as the boy, not much younger than he was, fall to the ground, naked and sobbing. He took him home, dressed him proper, and found out the boy was a rent-boy as well as a drug dealer. He was diagnosed with AIDs and soon wouldn't be able to continue earning money that barely paid his rent. He was HIV positive too.

They moved in together and soon fell in love. The skinny, tall blonde slowly grew weaker and more and more tired. He was constantly sick, fighting off various illnesses that just wouldn't leave, and soon he was covered in sores. After awhile he couldn't manage to walk on his own, and he was there for every step, every cough, every tear. And they loved each other until his last breath. And he loved him still after, until he died of the same illnesses in a crummy apartment in an even crummier city.

He watched as a little boy walked into his first day of pre-school. He clung to his mom's leg and cried when she tore him away; he didn't want to go and meet anyone else. He wanted to stay home forever. As he looked around all the children had someone to talk to, someone to play with before the day started. Four boys were playing blocks close to him, a redheaded boy gave one to a black-haired boy, who chucked it at the chubby one in front of them. The tiny boy in the orange parka and a red scarf watched them without saying a word or laughing. He approached them and the boy in the parka looked at him.

"H-hi." He said nervously.

"Hi, I'm Kenny! What's your name?" The boy asked, his voice heavily muffled by the layers of clothing.

"Leopold Stotch."

"Stotch? That's like scotch. Go away, Butterscotch." The chubby boy grunted.

"Y-y-you can call me Butters."

"No!" Butters cried, looking around for the person who was making him see this. These were his past lives, things that happened long ago that he wasn't aware of. But the last one, that was his life. He wasn't going to die. He didn't want to see how their life played out because it wasn't over. He wouldn't let it be; they still had so much to do. "I'm not ready!" He screamed as he watched little Kenny offer him a block. "STOP!" he bellowed, hoping whoever was in control of this would finally get the hint. He watched the memory slowly dissolve away and he was left feeling numb. Raw. "I don't want to die!" He said to whoever was listening, hoping they would get the hint to wake him up.

Butters felt pain consume his body and for a moment he regretted his outburst. He felt as if his he were slowly being skinned, layer by layer. He tried not screaming as everything began to fade in that comforting darkness that became flooded with a burning sensation throughout his entire body, his soul. But if he was alive, the pain would be worth it. At least he sincerely hoped it would.

"Please..." he heard an unfamiliar female voice as he began fading into reality, into consciousness, "please take care of my baby?" He felt as if he had been slapped in the face when he realized exactly who that voice belonged to, "I love you both, so much."

That simple admission was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

The sound of a steady beep was heard, as well as the ticking on a clock and the quiet hum of a television. He moaned quietly and felt oddly calm and not at all in pain as he came to. Slowly his eyes opened and he looked at his surroundings. He was in the hospital, that was certain, and his parents were sitting on his right.

"Butters!" his father yelled, causing his head the throb painfully. He winced and closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep. "You are in huge trouble, mister! Explain yourself, now!"

"Mr. Stotch," his eyes opened when hearing the familiar voice. He turned to the left corner and saw Kyle looking at him with a grim expression. Stan was standing next to him, silent, and Cartman was sitting in the only remaining chair. "With all due respect Butters is-"

"My son is fully capable of answering my questions and he will do so, or he is more grounded than he already is!" Butters strained to speak yet all that game out was a hoarse gurgle of phlegm and what tasted like iron. He grimaced and coughed lightly, wincing once more in pain. "Speak!"

"W-what happened?" He asked, looking to his three friends; he completely ignored his father, who appeared as if he had been slapped. His mother turned her head and pulled back her chair.

"You were in a car accident, dude. You like flipped your car and the guy who was in the truck you almost hit called an ambulance. It wasn't good, you're lucky to be alive." Stan explained quietly, calmly. Cartman sat with his hand over his mouth, head resting on his hand as he looked at Butters with a look of slight anger but mostly boredom.

"Am I h-h-hurt?" he whispered, trying to look down at himself yet fell a painful tug of his muscles. He laid back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

"How dare you disregard me!" His father yelled. Butters moaned in pain, then pressed the call button on his remote. He then turned his head to Kyle, with his eyes still closed, and waited for him to respond.

"Uh... you have a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Other than that and a few bruises and a fat lip you're in pretty good shape." He sighed with relief. No physical therapy. No stress.

A nurse quietly walked into the room and brightened when she saw he was awake. She was at his side quickly and hurried to take his vitals and jotted them down.

"I'm so glad you're awake, Mr. Stotch, your doctor will be in to speak with you. You're extremely lucky," she said with a smile. He struggled to read her name tag, but could finally make out the name "Liz". He tried to curl his lips upward then turned his head in the direction of his parents.

"I-I just... can you pl-please get them out of my room?"

"What?!" His mother shrieked. His father's face turned red and Butters flinched when he curled his fist. Stan braced himself to protect Butters, yet the nurse nodded at the bright blonde and looked at Linda and Stephen Stotch. "Butter's, we're your parents! You can't-"

"Please, go." He struggled to say, yet his voice came out in a quiet croak. His father turned livid eyes on him and he swore he was going to get punched, but all he did was stand up.

"We need to discuss some things anyway, please follow me," Liz the nurse said, smiling at Butters as she led them out of his room. His mother looked back and he felt a cold dread course through him as he saw the mania in here eyes. He shivered, then looked down at the bed, unsure of what to say or do.

Instantly Kyle and Stan took their place and Cartman scooted slightly closer. He remained silent as his eyes stared up at the television.

He tried to focus on them all at one time but it hurt his head to much. So he looked at Kyle for awhile, then Stan, and then Cartman.

"The truck driver wasn't injured," Stan said a little chipperly, "but he doesn't know if he'll press charges." Butters felt his stomach squirm uneasily and he looked at Stan with worried eyes.

"Press charges?" Kyle sighed heavily and nodded.

"Yeah, dude, you're... in a little trouble. You ran a stop sign and the accident is... kinda your fault. If he presses charges then it's not gonna turn out too good for you." He said simply yet with a sympathetic look as he bent his knees so his legs could be on the seat of the chair as well. He wrapped his arms around his legs and looked at Butters with a dazed expression.

"W-will I go to prison? I-I can't go to prison, I can't... oh my God, what have I done?" He asked; his hands trembled as he covered his mouth. His eyes prickled with salty heat and he squeezed his eyes shut, "what about Kenny? He's legally an adult, he won't be held responsible will he? How is he?" He asked, now gripping the sheets as his nerves got the best of him. He could feel his heart beginning to race, his mind was swimming, and his stomach was in tatters. The three boys looked at each other then back at Butters, who looked at them curiously. "What?"

"No, he won't be held responsible," Stan said then took the remote, "Your eye looks gnarly." Butters could feel it throb, although it wasn't painful yet. He then realized he wasn't able to see out of that eye, and grimaced when he touched the swollen skin.

But he knew the tactic Stan was trying to get away with. He knew it all too well; Kenny was the inventor of it. And he knew Kenny more than himself.

"T-that's great," he said, not really caring about his wellbeing now that he was alive and talking, "how's Kenny?" Stan looked to Kyle, and at that moment he knew. Kenny hadn't made it. He killed Kenny. "Oh my God..." he trailed off, his lips trembled and tears burned his eyes as he stared at his hands. Just like a year ago; he had his blood on his hands. But this time it was all his fault. All because he was upset. All because he wasn't paying attention to his driving, or the road, because he was wallowing in self pity. He didn't deserve to live.

Butters shook and bowed his head as tears slipped from his eyes. Kenny burned alive because of him. He actually saved his life and died for him.

But Kenny would be back... he had to come back.

He closed his eyes and felt more tears trickle down his cheeks. His body was perpetually spinning, as if they were flipping over and over again, and he saw it. Everything; as if he had been awake the whole time.

Butters was held in the air, stuck, caged by his seatbelt, and his body screamed in pain. He heard someone's voice, a blood curdling shriek, and as the ringing in his ears died he realized it was his own. It felt like being skinned alive and ripped apart. He wanted it to stop, the pain, the burning, everything. He reached for something, tried to pull himself free from his confines but his arms seemed to be paralyzed. White-hot pain seared his shoulder and he froze as his nerves went haywire.

"Lee!" He heard Kenny scream to him, "LEE!"

And the sound of glass shattering was heard. Shards covered his skin, his hair, and he felt the sharp edges stab him. Hands were on him, moving furiously over his body, over the belt, and the tiny click was heard. He expected to fall, and his lungs were filling with the stench of smoke and fire and gasoline, as if one more drip would cause his entire car to become an inferno. But hands clutched him tight and lifted him from his seat, and threw him as far and as furiously as he could.

Butters had landed with a thud, his head smacking hard against the ground and his vision went blurry as he saw spots in his eyes. He turned his head, watched as Kenny dove back in the car for something, for what?- and struggled to pull himself free. He was stuck. He was caught on something.

"KENNY!" he cried, voice breaking as he watched the hood of his car smoke and be consumed in flames. He could see his straw blonde hair and his terrified eyes as he looked to Butters, as if he were saying, "close your eyes, look away." But he couldn't.

But everything was fading fast, and everything was in slow motion, and he felt someone pick him up, and he heard yelling.

"Just wait one second, son!" He heard a man with a deep, slight southern twang yell. "I got you, you're gonna be okay." That was to Butters. He moaned in pain, that was all he could do, and slumped against something soft.

A quiet hissing filled the silent air and he swore he could hear seconds ticking away from a clock, somewhere, perhaps it was invisible, he didn't know. He heard Kenny yelling, shouting; he was unsure of what he was saying, but knew his voice sounded like a warning.

"Shit!" He heard the man yell, and a booming sound of an explosion shattered the earth, seemed to break the sound barrier, and shards of metal and glass tinkled almost angelically against the roaring flames.

He heard a woeful scream amidst the flames, and Butters felt himself grow dizzy when he recognized that desperate cry of agony, hopelessness, and pain... and then he saw yellow. Yellow in the flames everywhere. And the black amoke hung in the air, like tentacles, dragging Kenny into the darkness.

It was all his fault. Damn him. He didn't deserve to be the one talking to Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. He deserved to be the one in the morgue.

"I killed Kenny..." he whimpered, tears soaking his blanket. Kyle looked at him curiously, then shook his head.

"No... he's not dead."

"Not yet at least," Cartman grumbled, eyes locking on Butters' for a moment. Stan slugged him on the shoulder roughly and Cartman simply scoffed as he rubbed his arm.

"He's not gonna die, Cartman!" Stan cried with a broken voice. The brunette just rolled his eyes yet all Butters could think was how grateful he was that Kenny was alive. He hadn't killed him after all.

"How is he?! I want to... can I see him?" Kyle and Stan looked at each other, and the redhead sighed heavily.

"I don't know if you... want to..." Kyle trailed off, "but your doctor will be in and then you could ask him."

"Of course I want to!" Butters snapped, throat aching at the volume he tried to speak with. But as he looked between the three of them he realized they weren't telling him something. Something important. "What... what's wrong with him?" he whispered, that aching feeling of dread gripped his heart once more.

"He... well, he's burned really bad... and he hasn't woken up yet, they aren't sure if he will." Kyle explained. Butters felt his stomach twist with nausea and his throat tighten as he came to terms with what he had just been told. So this was ultimately worse than him being dead. "Kevin and Karen are with him right now and I told her you were awake so they'll probably-"

"No!" Butters said, sniffling as he wiped the tears from his eyes with a slightly numb hand. He couldn't bear to see them, to face them after what he did to Kenny. He was supposed to love him and make sure he was safe and he did the exact opposite. If he hadn't been so absorbed in his thoughts then none of this would have happened. "I can't... I-I can't see them..." Stan just gave him a look, then smiled sadly as he patted his good arm gently.

"If it helps they're worried sick about you." He said with a happy smile. Butters tried to mirror his expression but felt his lips painfully tug on his face and he grimaced. There was a quiet knock on the door and a middle-aged man appeared with a clipboard and a white coat on. Butters instantly flinched as he remembered the countless times his parents forced him to stay in the hospital. Their cold stethoscopes, their cold hands, their weird tests... he shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Hi Leopold, I'm doctor Stevenson and I'll be taking care of you the next couple of days. I'm glad to see you're awake; we gave you a mild sedative to help with the pain and you've been out for a few hours."

"So that happened today?" Butters asked quietly; Dr. Stevenson nodded and smiled a little.

"Yes, you came in about five hours ago. We reset your shoulder and have treated most of the burns and cuts. Your concussion is minor but we'll keep watch on you for tonight and you'll feel dizzy and woozy for the next couple of weeks. But you're just under observation tonight and if you have no problems you'll be able to go home tomorrow." Butters sat up in his bed and grimaced as he felt his head swim with dizziness. He blinked a couple of times then looked back up at his doctor.

"C-c-can I go see Kenny?" He asked quietly, timidly. His doctor grimaced then flipped through the charts.

"Kenneth McCormick?" He asked, earning a nod from the four boys in the room, "he's in ICU right now, being treated under a different doctor. There haven't been any restrictions except visitation is private. Unless his brother permits it, I'm sorry, I cannot let you see him."

"But I'm his-!" Butters trailed off, then bit his final word back, in case that could somehow be used against him. He fell back, in silence, and looked to Kyle, who wore a disgruntled face. "If we can talk to Kevin then can I find you and then go see him?" Doctor Stevenson sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand through his balding hair.

"Yes, and then Mr. McCormick's doctor. I'm sorry I can't be of more help." Butters shook his head and mustered a tiny smile.

"No, thank y-you for... the information, and te-telling me I can go h-home tomorrow." His doctor nodded, said a temporary goodbye, then walked out of the room.

Kyle groaned in annoyance and began typing away in his phone, probably to Karen. Stan held his arm around his shoulder and stared at the tiles on the floor. Cartman was absentmindedly tearing the wrapper off of his apple juice bottle, then chucked it at the wall.

"Fuck this shit," he declared, standing up and kicking the chair. Butters jumped at the loud bang against the wall and watched as Cartman headed to the door, "I'm not waiting for that fucking asshole to let me see him."

"Cartman, don't!" Kyle cried, but Cartman was already out of the door. Stan shook his head and closed his eyes; now they probably wouldn't be able to see him at all. Butters felt his stomach tighten with anxiety as he looked at the door; open, beckoning him to follow Cartman to the ICU, to Kenny's room, and to sneak in and bawl until he couldn't shed another tear. Yet as he blinked a shadow crossed his vision and he jumped when seeing a looming figure outside of the door. A couple of knocks tapped on the glass and he gave a quiet acknowledgment.

Kevin McCormick walked in with a blank expression and an ashen face as he held a protective arm over Karen, who trembled at his side, hiccuped, and sniffled as she stared with tears in her eyes. She was trying to stay strong for her older brothers, but was failing miserably. But Kevin held her close, in his silent way of letting her know he understood, and his large hand rubbed tiny circles on her shoulder.

"Butters," the twenty-year old brunette spoke with a ghost of a smile on his face. He felt his blood run cold at the hollowness of his voice, "how you feelin'?"

"G-" his voice caught, and Karen let out a quiet sob as she finally tore from her brother's arms and lunged at him. Her arms carefully wrapped around him and she laid on his bed, crying woefully in his shoulder as the tears he wouldn't allow himself to shed stained his blanket. Her skinny fingers clutched at the cloth, and he instinctively ran a hand through her hair. He looked apologetically up at Kevin, who just looked at his sister with weary eyes. For the first time Butters realized he looked much too old for his age. "G-good," he finally spoke, voice tight in his throat as he fought off tears, as well as the thousands of apologies he wished he could speak.

"Glad to hear it, bud. You looked like shit when they brought ya in," Kevin said with a bark of a laugh as he tried so hard to break the tension. Butters looked up at him with bleary eyes and smiled faintly, unsure of what else to say or do. He felt the young man's hand pat his shoulder carefully, then ruffle his fluffy blonde hair. Like a brother. He tried so hard to not let the tears fall.

"I'm s-s-so glad you're ok-k-kay..." Karen finally whimpered, voice muffled in his shirt as she wept freely. He tightened his loose hold and ran a finger through her hair. "Just the th-thought of l-l-losing you, I couldn't... I love you, Butters." She said, trying to compose her self as she wiped her eyes and took a shaky, deep breath. He smiled and took her hand in his, squeezing softly.

"I love you too, Karen, Kevin..." he trailed off, looking at both of them. Kyle and Stan glanced at each other, as if they were intruding on an intimate moment, "I-I'm so sorry. It's all-"

"Don't you fuckin' say it's your fault."

"But it is!" Kevin shook his head and sat at the foot of the bed with a fierce look on his already hardened face.

"Bull fuckin' shit, son. You know how many times me an' my dumbass friends drove 95 on these fuckin' gravel roads? Too many fuckin' times to count. An' we never crashed once. What happened today was not in your control. I know that, Karen knows that, you two know it," he said, addressing Kyle and Stan, who looked too scared to not nod, "the doctors know it, the truck driver knows it, and Kenny knows it. So I don't want you to apologize for nothin', ya hear me?" Butters closed his eyes and nodded slowly, doubting each movement. Kevin knew that, as he lightly tapped the back of his head, "little shitheads," he grumbled with a growing smirk on his face.

Butters didn't know what to say. He was surprised Karen was so eager to see him, and Kevin was so protective of him. He figured the 6'8" man would want to beat him to a pulp, and then some. But here they were trying to make him feel better. Here they were with open arms.

"Kevin," Kyle piped up, thankfully breaking the moment of silence. The brunette turned to him and nodded, "can we... go see Kenny?"

"Can Butters get outta bed?" Butters was on his feet in a matter of a few seconds, although he wobbled on his feet and grabbed Stan's shoulder as wooziness consumed him. He suddenly felt as if he were going to throw up, or pass out, yet he held it back as he looked to Kevin. "I mean, if you really wanna see him I'm okay with it. We just said private so the fuckin' reporters would stop takin' pictures an' shit."

"What?!" Stan cried, unable to hold back his disgust. Kevin and Karen nodded.

"They've been outside of the room the whole time, trying to get a picture of the local hero, as they're calling him," Karen mumbled; Butters looked at Stan and Kyle, who all recognized the irony of her statement, yet said nothing.

"They got a nice one o' me flippin' 'em the bird, though..." Kevin mumbled with a proud smile on his face.

Butters felt a kick to the gut as he looked at the siblings. He felt wrong, so wrong, when he realized most of their concern had been on him; not Kenny. It wasn't fair at all. Just because if Kenny died he'd come back didn't make what he was going through any less traumatic. Although they had seen this scene countless times before, and maybe it was now just annoying.

"So, if you want to go, I just gotta warn you, he ain't pretty." Karen wore that same first look she had on her face as Kevin brought up Kenny. Considering she was one of the least squeamish girls he knew, he didn't doubt what Kevin said was an understatement.

"How bad is it?" Kyle asked; Butters both cursed him and considered kissing him as he asked that question.

"He... well, you know in Batman Begins, where Two-Face is first seen being... Two-Face?" Stan cringed and Kyle drained of all color. "Think of that, but redder and he's missing an eye and an arm." Butters felt his stomach flip and he fought against the impulse to gag and puke. He felt Karen squeeze his hand, and he leaned against her as they walked through the hospital.

A doctor approached Kevin as they walked into the ICU.

The first thing out of Kevin's mouth was, "did he die?"

His words appeared to be a slap to the face to Stan and Kyle, but to Butters and Karen it probably would have been a relief if the doctor had said yes. However, he shook his head and gave a sad smile to the giant of a man.

"No, your brother woke up."

"You're shittin' me." Kevin blurted, then quickly apologized, "like awake awake?" The doctor nodded and he shook his head in disbelief.

"Is he... alert?" Karen whispered quietly, holding tight to Butters and Kevin, as if she were trying to hide. Kenny's doctor gave a sigh, then looked to the fifteen year old.

"He's under heavy sedation to numb the pain so he might not be able to comprehend what he's saying or your presence. I'm... I'm sorry, I honestly don't know how much time he has, or if he'll make it through the night. It's all we can do to pray." Stan couldn't help but scoff, and the doctor looked at him curiously.

"Can I take his friends in with me?" His doctor nodded and smiled gently at each of them.

"Not long, he needs a lot of rest to heal and we'll begin the conversations of surgery and treatment tomorrow." Kevin nodded, thanked the doctor, and looked to them as he walked away.

"I'm gonna be straight with ya," he said, his eye twitched, and Butters looked at him curiously, "but when you go in there I'd say your goodbyes." At that point he knew Kevin had something planned, something to end Kenny's suffering, but his words seemed to anger Stan and Kyle. Karen remained silent, her eyes focused on the floor, and Butters felt her squeeze his hand.

"How can you say that?!" Kyle exclaimed as they turned down the hall. He didn't receive an answer as the reporters ran up to them, asking questions and snapping photos. They tried to get close to Butters, yet Stan and Kevin blocked them off.

Kevin raised a fist and most of them moved, yet snapped a few photos of his apparent aggression, and he pushed through to the door.

"Go the fuck home," he said, then opened the door a crack. Karen fit through the crack, and he quickly ushered for the three boys to follow. They did, and Butters was met with the sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily and a ventilator. "And Kyle, I can say that 'cause he's my brother." he mumbled, then took a couple of steps into the room.

"K-" a quiet, raspy voice was cut off by violent coughs and a tiny moan that seemed to cause the boy in the bed even more pain. Kevin walked ahead of them and sat down.

"I'm here, bud. How you feelin'?" Kevin asked gently, as if Kenny were thin ice. Butters heard a nearly unrecognizable voice and he suddenly felt the urge to run. He couldn't see Kenny like this. Burned, unrecognizable, on his deathbed. And it was his fault. "You look like shit too," Kevin replied, "listen, I brought your friends in, and Butters." A moment of silence, then that same voice, "yeah, he's here. Doing good too. Guys...?" he trailed off, Karen gave them a warning look, as if to say, "don't freak out" and led them to the bed.

Kyle wiped his eyes as he saw the boy in the bed. Stan went grey, and Butters halted as he saw Kenny, wearing the same gown as he, covered head to toe in burns that mangled his beautiful sun-kissed skin, exposing his tissue and muscle; he was completely raw. His right arm was missing, which took a moment to notice, and his head was turned at an awkward angle as he looked away from Kevin. The right side of his face was completely wrapped in gauze, probably with some medication to soothe the pain. The left side of his face was burned, and the redness crept up his nose, to his forehead, where his brows had been completely burned off, and his hair was singed and bloody.

"Oh, Kenny..." Butters whimpered, limping to his side. He moved passed Karen, on his left side so Kevin could stay where he was, and he saw his bleary blue eye look at him, slightly out of focus.

"L-L..." was all he could say, but Butters knew exactly what he was trying to say; Lee. Butters slowly sat down on the chair, not wanting to sit on the bed and cause Kenny any pain, and wished so much to take his hand.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, tears falling down his face. Kenny looked at him, blinked, and his lip twitched slightly. His arm reached up, slow and shaky, to Butters face. His burned, charred fingers wiped the tears away, and even through the pain, he fumbled for Butters' hand.

"Y-y-you're..." Kenny whispered, voice garbled by liquid in his throat and what sounded like gritted teeth, "o-o-o-ok...ay..." Butters nodded and pressed the tiniest of kisses to Kenny's fingers. "I... sor..." he trailed off, voice messed up to where the words wouldn't come out right, but Butters knew exactly what he said. He was sorry. He felt responsible.

"No," Butters murmured, shaking his head, "don't be sorry. This was my fault, I should have listened to you. I should have been watching the road. I should have let you drive." Kenny gave a slight turn to the head, as if to shake it.

"N-no... st..." he trailed off; no, stop. "n-n-n-not y-y..." It's not your fault. "'s... k-k-kay." It's okay. "Yo-you... u-up-ups..." You were upset. "I-I'm s-so-sor-ry f-for... l-look..." I'm sorry for how I look. "D-don'... l-l-like t-th..." I don't want you to see me like this.

Butters couldn't help but sob as he felt Kenny take his hand again, even against the pain. Butters shook his head and smiled big enough so Kenny could see it. He saw Kenny's shame disappear, and something else flickered in his crystalline pool.

"Kenny, you're so beautiful." Butters whispered, truthfully. He looked into Kenny's eye and saw a tear, one that he couldn't wipe away, and it would hurt his burned skin as it fell. But he let it fall, nonetheless, and Butters wished nothing more to wipe it away and kiss his cheek. "You're so beautiful."

Kyle and Stan tried talking to Kenny for awhile, but seeing him in such a way left them both begging to leave. Stan was never fond of hospitals, and seeing one of his best friends in conditions such as this made it nearly unbearable. But he did it for Kenny, because this nagging feeling told him he had to be there.

It wasn't easy to understand him. It was similar to how he spoke with his parka; voice muffled and only catching certain things he said, but the words and letters were jumbled up and quiet, mixed with the sound of gurgling liquid in his throat.

Cartman showed up nearly a half hour after they talked to him. Kyle and Stan were just preparing to say goodbye, and Kenny had closed his eye by this time. But Butters knew he was still awake, still listening. They all did.

Kevin let the chubby boy in, and he actually threw up upon seeing Kenny. Instead of being offended by his retching, his body shook at what appeared to be laughter. This caused Cartman to laugh as well, and a hoarse intake of breath was heard; it was a dying attempt at hysterical giggles. Bittersweet, but mostly bitter.

Kyle kissed Kenny's hand, and Stan squeezed it tightly as they said goodbye, then told Butters to feel better and they'd visit him tomorrow. Butters saw it in Kenny's eye when they didn't mention the same to him, and a look of agony shined in his eye. But he said nothing as he tried his hardest to say goodbye, to beg them to stay.

But they left.

Butters squeezed his hand and another tear fell down his cheek.

"E-Er..." Eric. Cartman looked up at Kenny immediately, as if he were waiting to be acknowledged. "N-ne... h-he..." I need your help.

"Sure, dude." This was the first time Butters had seen him so sympathetic, so real. Kenny turned his head to look at Butters more, and Kevin ran a hand through his hair as he held Karen close to his side. She was crying again, and Butters could tell it was breaking Kenny's heart.

"W-w... k-ki..." will you kill me?

"Dude... weak."

"P-p-ple... please?" he finally got out, looking straight at Cartman who sighed heavily. "K-Kev... no." Kevin said no to doing it himself.

"Fuck, really?!" Cartman exclaimed, looking at Kenny's older brother, who wore an ashen expression. "I have to be the one to kill you, not these... these burns?"

"Please?!" Kenny's voice broke through the jumbled garble, as he cried out, pleading with Cartman. He moaned in pain and closed his eyes as his body tensed. Butters felt his hold on his hand loosen.

"Fine, fine, Jesus..." he looked to Kevin and Karen, "you're okay with this?" he asked them.

"I want it to stop," Kevin admitted, "I just can't... I wouldn't..." he took a moment, then looked back at Cartman, "I'm not asking you to, fuck I don't even want ya to. But if ya do I won't hold it against ya, fact I'd probably thank you." Karen nodded.

"I don't want him hurting anymore," a sob tore through Kenny as she whimpered, and Butters held his hand, wishing he could hold all of him. "Please, just make it stop?!" She cried to no one in particular. Cartman then turned to Butters.

"Or... do you want to do it?" Cartman asked. Kenny's eye opened wide and he gave a slight twitch, to signal his being totally against that idea. Butters shook his head, what Kenny couldn't do, and closed his eyes.

"I don't like this." Butters admitted, "feeling like you're the executioner. You don't have to do this, you shouldn't... but... at the same time... this is sick. This is wrong." Karen nodded. Cartman sighed.

"It's not like I haven't killed him before. Any last words?" Cartman said. Kevin shrugged, then wrapped an arm extremely loosely around Kenny.

"Don't worry about Karen. I'm staying with her until you come back, okay? Then we're gonna get fucking wasted and just chill the fuck out, kay? You just come back soon, shithead."

"K-k-kay. L-l..." Okay. I love you.

"I love you too, bud. Get some sleep." A sound that was similar to a scoff was heard, and Butters couldn't help but let out a tearful laugh. Karen kissed the whitest part of his forehead, where she figured it wouldn't hurt so much, and he looked at her, wishing to hug her.

"I'm so sorry, Kenny. You don't deserve this. But you'll be back, you died last week so... it's not like you're gonna be gone like ten months again." he jerked his head, as if to nod, "maybe they'll let you off easy. But... don't be long, okay? I love you, so much." He outstretched his hand shakily to her, and she took it, kissing the tips of his fingers.

"L-love y... K-K-Kar...b-b..." I love you too, Kar-bear.

"I hate you, you poor asshole," Cartman grumbled, which Butters knew by the tears in his eyes he didn't mean at all. Kenny gave a gentle nod, and reached for Cartman. Butters was surprised to see the chubby boy hug him, without hurting him. "If you don't come back in a week I am kicking your ass."

"K-kay... fa..." Okay, fatass. Kenny's eye flickered to Butters and he took his hand. "L-L-Lee..."

"Oh, Ken..." Butters trailed off, kissing the same spot Karen had kissed. He was too afraid of hurting him, "I love you and I'll be waiting for you. Don't be long, and... I'm so sorry, Kenny."

"D-d-d-don... s-so... I p-p-pr-prom... s-s-soon... -l-love." Don't be sorry. I promise I'll be back soon, love.

Kenny kept his hand in Butters' as Cartman pulled a syringe from his pocket. Kenny let another tear fall as Cartman injected the clear liquid in his arm, and this time Butters' wiped it away. He watched as Kenny's eyes began to lose their focus, then rolled to the back of his head. Kevin closed them at that point. His heart began beating slower, and Kevin pressed the button to call the nurses, knowing they'd be too late. The alarm started beeping as his heart beat slower and slower, and Butters squeezed his eyes shut as his hold on his hand grew limp and empty.

He had Kenny's blood on his hands, again. And this time it was all his fault. Nothing could convince him otherwise. Seeing the doctors push them out of the room and try to bring him back was proof of that. Knowing he'd be back soon was a sick reassurance that everything would be okay.

But he didn't shed another tear. He wouldn't, in hopes of that reassurance.