Chapter Index

1. Butters 2. Kenny 3. Butters 4. Kenny 5. Butters 6. Kenny 7. Butters 8. Kenny

-SalemNeko-

Dressing Butters up as Professor Chaos was probably the single most adorable thing I'd seen in ages. I was still surprised he had most of his costume left, honestly. We'd had to work around what he did have—and what still fit. But, if I may say so, Professor Chaos was in top form as we made it to Henrietta's.

Butters had the tinfoil helmet on, which had taken much prodding on my part before he'd even put the damn thing on. I figured that even though it wasn't doing much to hide his identity, it had been at least five years since Henrietta had laid eyes on Butters anyway, and there was little chance she would remember him anyway. Though in my opinion, I didn't see how anyone could forget a face like his.

His cape was too short but, I had an extra one he could use for the evening under the assumption that he would do nothing to permanently damage or stain it. I didn't think he would do something like that, but my costume was really the only thing of mine that I could take pride in. Butters had pouted at the fact that it didn't quite match the rest of his outfit, but accepted it when I'd ruffled his hair and murmured into his ear that I'd thought it looked just fine. That kid was so goddamn easy.

Butters had nixed the tinfoil gloves and boots, instead opting to go gloveless and stick with plain black boots. With a form fitting turquoise top and darker pants, the outfit was complete.

"Mysterion," When the door opened to Henrietta's house and that sultry voice greeted us, I could literally feel Chaos stiffen beside me. I couldn't say I blamed him; Henrietta honed in on him immediately after greeting me, and her demeanor had changed completely. I was reminded of when she and I had first started working together, and she was just as weary and snippy to me as she was to the preppy kids in class.

Butters shrunk behind me, using me as a barrier to Henrietta's wrath. She whipped her eyes back to me, narrowing them angrily as she crossed her arms. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, bringing this kid along?" I knew it was all an act on her part—she'd specifically requested I bring him along. But she wouldn't simply hand her trust over without testing Butters first, I guess. That was just like her to be fucking around with his emotions when we had more important things to talk about.

"Henrietta." I demanded. She huffed at my tone, and with the slightly bored expression I'd come to expect from the goth kids, invited us into her home. "Chaos is trustworthy—he's gotten us one step closer to discovering the truth." I looked back at Chaos, watching as he trailed behind me, looking particularly flustered at the attention.

"Right," he looked down at the wooden floor, refusing to meet my gaze. I wondered what was running through his mind at the moment. Hopefully he wasn't thinking about that damn dream of his from the other night. I'd made him recount exactly what happened as we were getting Chaos' things together, so that there would be no surprises when we explained the situation to Henrietta.

Henrietta led us through her plainly decorated living room and into the hallway, where she stopped in front of a rickety wooden door that opened with one of those old skeleton keys. She hesitated, glancing back at Chaos before sighing and pushing the door open with a neatly manicured hand.

I let Chaos enter before me; I wanted to hang back and gauge his reaction to what Henrietta was up to. We never came down here to talk; she was merely testing what Butters would do in retaliation to her worst. Couldn't say I didn't approve, simply for the experience of watching Butters' face. Watching was something I'd always been relatively good at, so when Butters showed up and I suddenly had someone in my life who I couldn't read as easily as a book was an intriguing change for me.

I hung back as Henrietta directed Butters into a particularly rickety looking wooden chair, unable to stop the smile at just the sight of him. But Henrietta was there, looking at me with a strange expression on her face, and I quickly tried to mask my obvious affection for the kid.

"Let me see it," Henrietta pulled a chair up to sit directly in front of Chaos and held out her hand, palm up. Chaos glanced back at me as he did what Henrietta asked.

"Is it... do you know what it is?" Chaos asked. Henrietta was getting that crazed look in her eyes again, and I could almost hear the thoughts flying through her mind. All at once she let out a strangled noise, leaping out of the chair and clutching her singed fingers in pain. "Oh Jesus—I-I'm sorry!"

"No, no." Henrietta muttered, looking around as if she'd momentarily forgotten where we were. "I should have realized that the Old Ones would have a charm cast to protect their goddamn chosen one." She turned away from us, flinging her hair over her shoulder in that way I always seemed to take notice of, and started digging through the mound of boxes shoved in the corner of the room.

The phrase "chosen one" wasn't sitting well with me. Apparently Butters was feeling the same way, because his worried eyes drifted to mine again, this time holding my gaze. "Hey, we're going to get this figured out, okay?" I told him gently. Butters looked down, and the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. I wished I could take his hand without crazy shit going down because of it. I couldn't stand being this close to him; with the ring's strange power trying to suck me into him, but not being able to lay a hand on him. I tried taking my own feelings into account, not that I was sure at this point what I felt, but there was something other than the tug of lust clouding my vision.

"Here it is." Henrietta was lugging a box out of the pile, setting it on the chair in front of Butters. The three of us peered inside, Chaos and I watching as Henrietta dug through the mass of papers inside and pulled out an old book. When I say old, I mean that the thing was hardly holding together at this point; the bindings had been nearly destroyed and the cover was stained and faded, the pages inside yellow with age.

"That ring is explained in detail in this book; take it with you. It should explain things better for you than I ever could." She handed Butters the book, then turned on me with her hands on her hips. "You, sir, need to leave him alone." Henrietta nodded her head in Butters' direction. "He's cursed."

The words hung in the air between the three of us, as if daring us to challenge them.

"No." I was surprised to hear Butters say. He stood up, a fiercely determined look on his face. In that second I caught a glance of the real Professor Chaos, of the real Butters, the one who was hidden away in fear of the world. "I don't care if I am cursed; Mysterion—you can't leave me." It took me a second to realize that he was talking to me; I was so wrapped up in the fire in his eyes.

"I won't." I promised. I couldn't even if I wanted to, even if Henrietta wanted me to.

Henrietta sighed loudly. "You idiots. Fuck, I can't even explain to you the situation you're going to find yourselves in if you don't get away from each other while you have a chance." She was fretting, angry and flustered for our sakes and growing more agitated by the second. "The ring is amplifying the effects of your curse—if you don't do something about it now, I can't guarantee that either of you will make it out of this alive." Henrietta knew of my curse and my inability to die, so if she was threatening me with death it had to be serious. "Have you ever found yourself holding a strange power over people before? Being able to manipulate their hearts or minds?" She leveled Butters a serious stare, and he thought about it.

"Well—not that I can really think of. I mean, there was that thing that happened with Mexico when we were kids." I wasn't sure what he was thinking about; probably his time spent in Mexico as the hero of their country, but the way his bottom lip jutted out like that when he was contemplating something was so fucking adorable. "And maybe that time when the government tried to destroy our imaginations?"

"That—wait—" Henrietta sputtered, "That was you? The Stotch kid?" I really wished people would stop reacting like that, as if it was so unusual for Butters to be involved in anything, ever.

"Right. Thank you, Henrietta. You've been a huge help tonight." I wanted to get us out of there as quickly as I could before she started to flip out on him, but Butters stopped me.

"Hold on a second, Kenny. What about the scroll?" He pulled the small cylindrical container out of his pocket and the multicolored metal instantly caught Henrietta's attention. She reached for it immediately, pausing mid-reach to stare at me.

"Kenny. Kenny... McCormick?" Damn it, I should've known that Butters wouldn't be able to keep up appearances. Henrietta didn't look angry so much as shocked and a little confused, and I planned to keep it that way.

"Does it matter who the fuck we are? What about the scroll?"

"I'm not a puppet, you fucking poser." She snapped, grabbing the scroll from Butters' hand. "I'm not going to do exactly what you want, when you want. You could at least say please." She did have a valid point.

"Alright, look, I'm sorry." I put my hood down and pulled off my mask. "There. Happy? Now we could really use your insight, Henri. I don't want this to change anything between us," I held up my mask. "It's still me you're talking to. Are you really going to let this one little thing ruin everything between us?"

She considered my words honestly, and I could see the decision in her dark brown eyes before she'd spoken. "No, you're right. You've been a good friend to me throughout the years, Mysterion. I'll tell you what I know. Just put your fucking mask back on; you look like an idiot."

According to Henrietta, the scroll was written up thousands of years ago by a tribe that is long since extinct. Its original purpose was to protect the people of the village from the wrath of the Old Ones who, until the point of the scroll's creation, would require the occasional sacrifice to appease the gods.

She told us that something had gone wrong when the scroll was created—that a group of priests feared the Old Ones would bring fury down upon their village if they found out about this supposed scroll. So they created a fake and swapped them out, hiding the original before it could ever be tested against the Old Ones. And somehow we had gotten our hands on the original.

After we'd left Henrietta's, I told Butters to keep it on him at all times. If that scroll did protect against the Old Ones, we should take full advantage of it.

The following couple of weeks passed without much interest; my life was a constant cycle of working and spending time with Butters and Karen. He was over almost constantly, as Karen had quickly grown attached at the hip with him.

It was certainly an odd sight to come home to the sight of the pair of them dancing around the living room, blasting Florence and the Machine's Dog Days are Over; but one I was slowly growing accustomed to.

"Leave all your love and your longing behind, you can't carry it with you if you want to survive!" They sang together as I opened the door. They shrieked in unison at my appearance, then burst out laughing.

"How was work?" Karen asked as Butters turned down the noise.

"The same as always," I told her with a weary smile. Something about the way the pair of them were acting was setting me on edge. Karen was smiling broadly at me, as if she couldn't wait to tell me something. "...What did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Karen laughed, looping her arm through mine and led me to the couch. "We've just been thinking..." I looked between the two of them; Karen's warm brown eyes alight with joy, and Butters' more subdued blue ones. I realized that I didn't want for Butters to have to remain subdued in my presence—I wanted him to be as cheerful with me as he was with Karen when I wasn't around. "You deserve more than this, Kenny." Karen gestured to our living room, but I knew what she meant.

Our house was the same as it had been since we were kids, right down to the meth lab in the backyard. The only thing that had changed, really, was the fact that Kevin had bolted at the first chance he'd gotten. Although he was rarely around to begin with, so even that wasn't much of a change. No matter how hard we worked to get out of this hole, we only seemed to be digging in the opposite direction.

"I know it's not much, but...well," Butters floundered for the right words. He plopped down on the couch beside me, Karen moving to sit on my other side. "I'd like to make you and Karen a real home cooked meal tonight, nice and proper. And we could discuss gettin' Karen into community college." I must have heard that wrong. I was trying so hard to get money saved up for Karen to go to community college in Denver, but almost all of our income was being poured into this shit hole of a house. How would we ever manage both?

"I know you don't like Eric much at all, but he does make pretty smart business decisions. We've been workin' together for years now; I've got enough saved up that we could get Karen enrolled next term, if you wanted."

Butters was offering to help put Karen through college.

"You saved my life more than once, Ken. It's really the least I could do for you." I wouldn't say it was the least; Jesus, I would have been fine with a handjob in an alley somewhere. But he was offering to help pay for Karen's education. It would serve that fatass right that his hard earned money would go to my sister's schooling. After all the shit he'd given us growing up I figured it was only fitting.

If my sister hadn't been sitting in the same room, I might have just kissed him.

"Whaddya say, Kenny?" Karen leaned into me, "We aren't ever going to get outta this place if you're constantly having to save every extra penny to try to send me to school. I bet we could even get our own little place if we wanted to, this way."

She was right; with Butters we might just be able to get out. With Butters, we had a chance.

Fuck—I know we were an odd group—Butters cheerfully roaming the aisles of the grocery store, list in hand as he picked items off shelves, passing them to Karen to put in the cart. Every once in a while he would glance back at me, eyes lighting up in that way that made me want to strangle him and kiss him senseless all at once. I knew people were talking as we passed but I wasn't sure if they were talking because Butters was home, or if it was because he was hanging out with "those McCormick kids." Either way, it was seriously pissing me off.

All the sideways glances and thinly veiled whispers behind hands only increased when Butters fell in step beside me, bumping his shoulder against mine only a little awkwardly—he didn't want the ring acting up again.

The two of us had sat down together and read that book Henrietta had given Butters. It had certainly shed some light on the situation. As long as I didn't come in direct contact with the metal band, we were safe; firmly rooted in our own world.

He was close—close enough for my senses to become overrun with the sent of Butters. "Now what's got you in such a sour mood, Ken?" Karen glanced back at us, a knowing smile on her lips. I wanted to snap at her that she didn't know what was going on—but knowing Karen, she probably had more than an inkling at this point. I wouldn't put it past Butters to have told her, anyway.

"I just don't want to share you with the general public, is all." I grinned down at him. His cheeks turned a bight shade of pink at the compliment. Flirting had become a second nature to me at this point; I couldn't help it. I loved seeing the joy of others at receiving compliments—it was the single most satisfying pastime in my life.

"Jeez, what a flirt." He laughed. In front of us Karen pushed the cart into a checkout line and began putting items on the conveyor belt. Butters looked back at me once more as he went to help her.

I couldn't help but hang back and marvel at how well he fit in our life. Even Karen, who usually had such a hard time making friends, was completely and utterly enamored with him almost at first glance.

Butters insisted on paying for the groceries, much to my dismay. He was already doing so much for us that I felt like a fucking moocher. The least—the absolute fucking least—I could do was take the bags from his hands as we walked to the car and again when we walked up all the stairs in his apartment complex.

"Oh, you can go ahead and set those on the counter, there." Butters told me as he led the three of us into his room. Karen and I watched as he snagged an apron off of a peg on the wall of his small kitchen and immediately set to work.

I thought I was pretty decent in the kitchen, but damn. Butters moved about the tiny space with such ease I was reminded of a dancer working with a familiar partner. Karen and I tried to help him on multiple occasions, but he just gave us a little smile and told us to relax.

"I can make ya some hot chocolate, if you want," He looked over at us from the pot he was stirring on the stove. "I make the best hot chocolate—just ask Ike."

"Butters, seriously. Stop being so awesome? It's making me wish you weren't gay," Karen said, and the pair of them started laughing again, as if this was some long-standing joke between the two of them. I wasn't jealous—I hadn't been aiming to get on Butters' good side during the events prior. But god, I felt like a kid again, vying for my parent's attention against Karen.

"It's making me glad you are," I grinned broadly at Butters as he dropped the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the noodles. He quickly grabbed it off the floor with a muttered curse—I didn't think Karen could hear it over the sound of her own laughter, but I definitely could. He turned back to me once he'd rinsed the spoon and set it on the counter, the look in his eyes entirely too heated to be innocent.

"Are you propositioning me, Kenny McCormick?" His tone was light, joking. But his body language suggested otherwise, and it sent a chill up my spine.

I shrugged. "Who knows?" Butters shook his head, turning back to the noodles cooking on the stove with a grin.

I drove Karen home for the night before returning to Butters' so that we could head out for the evening. I had been bringing Chaos along on my nightly patrol around our small town; mostly so that I could keep an eye on him. But damn, I hadn't realized how much I liked having someone else around—how lonely I really was—until someone was there.

Butters showed off his latest handiwork in the form of Chaos' new cape before we set out. "Isn't it just perfect? Karen and I spent hours trying to find the right shade of fabric." He was already in costume by the time I showed up, this time with a matching dark blue cape rather than my purple one. Mine was folded neatly and sitting on the table, ready for me to pick it up on the way home tonight.

"Looks good," I remarked as he did a little twirl to give me the full view of his outfit. Butters had a slender form as it was; but in the tight-fitting costume of Professor Chaos it worked better than imagined. He wasn't as fierce as a super villain aught to be, because in my mind, Chaos would always be the dark side of Butters, but he definitely had the presence to pull the outfit off. It was as if he was tapping into some unknown power when Professor Chaos was around. He held his head a fraction higher, and his eyes held just a hint more darkness than Butters alone.

"I'm so glad," He sighed happily, and fuck, I couldn't stand to be in such close proximity of him and not touch him. "I picked the color so it'd match yours, see?" He ran his fingertips along my cape that was sitting on the table, glancing back at me when I took his ring-less hand and spun him around. His joyous laughter filled the room as I ushered him to the door.

"It's perfect, Chaos; now let's go, we have a meeting to crash." He dug in his heels at that.

"What meeting?" I could have sworn I'd mentioned it to him beforehand.

"The night those men were in the alley, they set up another drop-off."

"That man you practically beat to death?" Chaos frowned, side stepping out of my hand that had been resting on his back. "You want to go after them again?"

"Well, they were up to something before you showed up—it's not like I wanted to beat him up for the hell of it."

"I didn't say you did, Ken. It's just... I don't think it's such a good idea to get involved."

"What do you think I've been doing the entire time you've been away at school? This is my job—this is my life! I'm not going to sit by and let my city get fucked by some wannabe gangsters who think they can come in here and do whatever they want. If I don't get involved, nobody will."

"I hear you; I just don't want you gettin' into trouble you can't get yourself out of. Karen's really worried about you."

"You talk about me?"

Butters flushed. "Well, on occasion. When we can fit you in between our favorite teen pop idols and our enthralling discussions about the latest nail polish that just hit shelves." I could always tell when Butters had been spending time with Ike. He always came around with that extra bit of sarcasm and cynicism coloring his words. "Mine's Backstreet Boys, if you were wonderin'. Karen prefers NSYNC."

"Damn it, Butters. Can't we have a serious conversation?"

"I don't know, can we?" He was pouting, about what, I wasn't entirely sure. "I'd have to say my favorite polish at the moment is Rich in Spirit. It's a pretty silvery-blue that's the exact shade of your eyes." I know he wasn't serious—I think he wasn't serious—but just the fact that he'd had that name on the tip of his tongue was enough to make me forgive his sassy attitude.

"You pay attention to the color of my eyes?" I asked with a thoughtful smile on my face. Butters glanced over at me briefly.

"Of course." He responded bluntly, making my smile grow. "Do you know where this meeting's takin' place? I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

I echoed the sentiment; and under the cover of darkness that had overtaken the city for the evening, we made it back to the previously arranged meeting point. My adrenaline was pumping as Chaos and I waited above the alley—we were on the corner across the street from Stan and Kyle's apartment, actually.

"You think we could see into their apartment from here?" I asked quietly, nudging Butters with my elbow and directing his attention across the street. He rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Maybe?" With nothing better to do, the two of us leaned as far over the edge of the building as we could without risk of being seen and attempted to count the windows until we found Stan and Kyle's.

"I'm pretty sure it's that one," Butters pointed to a window with the curtains shut. "I remember seein' those curtains in the window."

"Of course you'd remember the curtains," I replied sarcastically. He punched me in the arm, but didn't say anything else. I thought he was right, though—up until the point two silhouettes appeared in the curtain. "That can't be right—Stan and Wendy broke up last week. And Kyle doesn't date, trust me."

"Are you sure he just doesn't date you?" Butters asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's Kyle, all right." I squinted, tilting my head. Maybe the figure on the left did have a distinctly Kyle-esque form, but if that were the case, who the fuck would he be seeing? Kyle didn't waste time on meaningless relationships.

"Kyle isn't my type anyway, dude. That's just weird." I wrinkled my nose at the thought. Butters didn't look too convinced, and I couldn't blame him. Kyle and his mystery-date shifted and the curtain moved—giving Butters and I a clear view of Stan locked against him.

"Was that—"

"I think so—"

"But—"

The sound of shuffling feet stole both of our attention away. Two figures were coming from Butters' direction; he had a better view of them than I had at first.

"O-oh—" He let out a strange noise, somewhere between a moan and a yelp, and clasped his hands together. "I-It's just Eric and Ike."

After a moment they passed into my view. Eric was in top form tonight; hair slicked back and a suit fitted awkwardly on his fat body. Ike, in contrast, was tall and near-lanky, his black hair cut short and his dark eyes sharply observing their surroundings. He glanced up at the rooftop Chaos and I were crouched on, and I tugged Butters down quickly, clasping a hand over his mouth to cover the start of the cry he was about to let out.

-phunthyme-

"Shh. It's Cartman." I can't believe I hadn't realized it before. Like Butters had said, Eric was pretty smart about his business decisions. I pulled my hand away from Butters' mouth with a grimace. "Did you just lick me?" I whispered angrily, wiping my hand on my thigh.

"I couldn't breathe," He whispered back, his tone just as huffy. "You can't just go around suffocatin' people like that!"

I'm sure he didn't mean it that way, but my mind went straight to the gutter. "How about we try it a different way?" I asked, leaning on my palms as I moved closer to him. "I'm sure we could find something entirely more... pleasant to cover your mouth with." His brows furrowed.

"Is that some sort of euphemism for bdsm?" I tried to stifle a bark of laughter at that.

"Only if you want it to be, baby."

I showed him what I meant, covering his mouth with my own. Like I'd fantasized about frequently lately, Butters responded with just as much urgency I did. His kisses were less Butters than they were Professor Chaos; dark, passionate, and entirely more sensual than you would expect at first glance. It only took him a couple of moments and he was scooting closer, our lips separating only long enough for him to pull his helmet off and tug my hood down.

And then he was back in my arms, chest to chest as we kissed frantically. Fuck—I forgot how much I loved the feel of another person in my arms; and Butters seemed to fit so well. If we could only figure out some way to get that damn ring off his finger this would be perfect.

"The ring," Butters groaned into my mouth. I loved how fucking similar our train of thought was at times. He pulled away slightly, and I rested my forehead against his as we looked at one another. "This isn't goin' to work." He said breathlessly. His blonde hair was sticking up in every direction; I hadn't realized at the time that I'd done it. All and all, Butters was looking thoroughly disheveled—and I planned to keep him in such a state permanently.

"Hey; we'll figure it out, okay?" I flattened his hair with a hand, letting my palm travel down and rest along the curve of his cheek. "Let's just... let's just focus on Cartman right now. If we move quickly, I bet we can still catch his fat ass." I stood up, carefully peeking along the edge of the building for any sign of Cartman and Ike.

"Right." Butters answered back, still a little out of it. I flipped my hood back up and grabbed Chaos' helmet, holding out a hand to help him up. "Eric."

We found him only a couple blocks away bickering with Ike about something that was most likely pointless. They were obviously waiting for someone, the way they were hiding out in the shadows like they were. We hid around the corner of a dumpster, out of their sight if Ike happened to look over. Rather than a repeat of earlier, I gave Butters a sharp glance, telling him to keep quiet so that I could try and decipher their words.

"...Don't care what you do. It's that..."

The wind was picking up around us making Cartman's complaining unintelligible. Before Ike had a chance to respond, footsteps from behind us caught their attention—and ours. Fuck, I'd been so focused on the fat ass that I hadn't been keeping track of my surroundings. Some hero I was turning out to be.

"Kenny—" I tugged Butters against me, pulling both of us further into the shadows as the man stepped closer to our general vicinity. I knew from experience that men like him were trained to pick up on the slightest of movements; the tiniest hint of a sigh. It wasn't the first time I'd been cornered like this; but it was the first time I'd willingly put someone else in danger, and my stomach was churning in regret.

"So wonderful to see you, Mr. Cartman, Mr. Broflovski." Ike and Cartman greeted the man with handshakes, coming to meet him almost directly beside the dumpster Butters and I were hiding next to. Butters gripped the edge of my cape, and pressed even closer. "Did you bring it?"

"You know we did." Cartman spat. I hadn't heard him take a tone like that in the twenty something years I'd known him. "This is the last of it. Now tell Smaldone that I don't want to see him or any of you in South Park again." Ike tossed a small briefcase to the man, who caught it in his thick-fisted grip.

"You'll be hearing from him soon, I'm sure." His teeth gleamed in the half-light from the streetlamp on the corner as he turned to leave.

"Wait." Cartman hissed, and the man did as he was told; most likely on reflex more than anything. I sucked in a sharp breath, which probably wasn't the smartest idea—but Butters was burying his head in my shoulder, his breath fluttering against my collarbone distractedly.

The man turned on us immediately. "Who's there?" He shouted as he pulled a pistol out of his jacket. "Come out now, or I'll shoot," Cartman looked between the shadows where we were hiding and the man, as unsure as I'd ever seen him.

Butters' glared sharply at me, shaking his head against my shoulder as I shifted, trying to get out from underneath him. If it was going to keep Butters safe, I would take a bullet from this man.

"Now!" The man snarled, taking a step closer.

I shoved Butters off of me and didn't spare him another glance as I stood up and emerged from the shadows. I only hoped he had enough sense to stay there.

"Oh—it's the poor boy." Cartman relaxed slightly.

"What the fuck is this?" The man asked, turning his gaze to Cartman while keeping his gun leveled on my chest.

I should have known. Butters would have followed me to hell and back if I asked him to, damn it, and he couldn't even stay put for two minutes if I wasn't at his side.

I barely registered the sound of the gunshot until it was too late.

 

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