Chapter Index

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

That asshole was just going to walk away from everything.

I was stunned into silence at the revelation—long enough so that Butters had gotten a head start, disappearing around the corner before any of us could stop him. Cartman snapped me out of it by shoving me roughly, sending the scroll clattering to ground as I caught myself with my hands. I winced at the sharp pain from the scraping of the skin on my palms against the wet cement.

"What the fuck was that?" Cartman loomed over me, the fire reflected in his dark eyes making him appear almost threatening. "You said it's not us summoning Cthulhu that brought you back from...from—"

"Hell?"

"I was going to say from the dead, you fucking fag."

"Cartman, I really don't have time for this—unless you want to see Butters killed again. For good."

"I... don't think that's going to be a problem." Henrietta chimed in. She wasn't looking at either of us; instead she was attempting to fan the pages of her book that had been soaked with water. "Not with Cthulhu, at least. I've been researching the role of the Chosen One in more detail than that book I gave you. The power I told you that Butters possesses? It's not going to let Cthulhu touch him."

"Thank God," The tense atmosphere between Cartman and I dropped immediately. I grabbed the scroll from where it lay beside me and shoved it into my pocket.

"Cthulhu is going to use your power, Mysterion, to reach into Butters' heart and destroy him." Her Gothic attitude was shining through as she described it.

"I would never—"

"I know; I see the way you look at that fucking kid. I know you think your selfless and school-boy attitude towards love will save the day in the end. But it won't work. Cthulhu has been in control of your destiny since you were born."

Ike, who had been listening to the exchange intently until this point, stepped up to Cartman. "Go. You have to stop Cthulhu. I'll keep track of Kenny." I looked up at Cartman. He was stone-faced, staring back at Ike as if they were communicating telepathically.

Cartman had never been the hero—he wouldn't know how to begin. The Coon had been his only crappy attempt at anything heroic in his life, and even then he'd only been in it for the fame.

I stood up, shoving Cartman away from me. "You wouldn't know where to begin protecting Butters. Let me go."

"Fuck you, Kenny! You think just because you suddenly walked into Butters' life and stole him away that you suddenly know him any better than us? Were you there when his parents flipped their shit when he came out? Were you there at two in the morning, climbing through his goddamn window to make sure that his dad didn't beat him too badly this time? To hold him as he fucking cried his heart out? Don't act like you know shit about him."

He was right.

I didn't know anything about Butters. I hadn't spared him a glance past middle school—hell, I hadn't even known he was out until a few weeks ago. But that wasn't going to stop me from caring about him now.

"Cartman, please. At least take me with you. I know I haven't been there for him like you have, but... I really care about him."

He almost looked like he was going to agree, for the briefest of seconds, until Ike put a surprisingly strong hand on my shoulder and effectively rooted me in place. That was all the incentive Cartman needed to spin on his heel and take off after Butters with hardly a glance back at us.

"Henrietta." She looked beautiful under the backdrop of the flames, the light dancing off her dark hair and illuminating her pale skin. I'd almost forgotten she was here, she had been quiet throughout the previous exchange. "Why?" I knew she would understand; and she did, glancing away from me in obvious regret.

"I don't know how they found me. But he threatened to take all of our work—to destroy everything we've been working for all these years! I couldn't let it happen. At first he was just looking for information, but when he found a couple of the summoning books I'd forgotten about—summoning Cthulhu for help was the only way to get the bastard to stop."

She didn't have prior experience in dealing with Cartman like the rest of us—it was only natural that she'd caved and done as he asked.

"You don't deserve someone like him," I heard Ike murmur. "Butters has been through so much shit in his life that you can't even begin to comprehend the severity of it all. He was on the verge of fucking suicide when I started hanging around him in high school. But wouldn't you know it, the resilient little bastard managed to pull himself back up and make something out of himself." Though Ike's words were almost soft when he spoke about Butters, his expression was anything but. "And now you're trying to ruin him all over again. I won't let you."

I couldn't even bring myself to respond. He was right; they were all right. Cartman would take care of Butters better than I ever could hope to. Any way I turned it, I would always get the same answer.

"Mysterion." Henrietta spoke again. "Cthulhu might be in control of your destiny, but... I don't think that we should live our lives waiting for destiny to take hold. You need to take control of your destiny and—fuck it in the ass, before it gets its claws in you." Her metaphor might have been a little... off, but the meaning was there nevertheless.

Ike's grip loosened slightly.

Ike's voice was quiet, and at first I didn't realize he'd spoken over the dull roar of the flames. "You might be an annoying prick, but I don't think I've seen Butters so happy in a long time." Henrietta nodded at him, and Ike dropped his hand completely.

"Are... are you sure?" Now that the two of them were letting me go I wasn't sure that they were making the right decision. What if it was already too late to stop? What if them letting me going was effectively setting Butters' death in stone?

"Hurry up and get the fuck out of here, before I change my mind." Ike snarled, giving me a push in the direction that Butters and Cartman had taken off in.

I heard Henrietta call out, "Good luck, Mysterion!" as I rounded the corner.

It wasn't hard to find Butters; the howling of Cthulhu was enough for me to track both of them down in no time. Butters stood before Cthulhu, ready to accept his fate and die for this shitty world. The god was unmoving as I approached. The only part of the Old One that never seemed to stop twitching was its tail, which swung around and destroyed a nearby building. I could see Butters flinch from three blocks away.

Even from this far away, I could feel the tug from the ring on Butters' finger trying to lure me closer. I took a few tentative steps closer, testing the effects of the power coursing through me.

Cthulhu roared when it finally took notice of my presence, and Butters spun around, following Cthulhu's gaze to me. He looked surprised that I would have followed him; his blue eyes bright with emotion and his mouth hanging open as if he'd had something to say but the words were caught in his throat.

"Get away from here, fucker!" Cartman shouted as he finally noticed me. "Damn it, Ike." I thought I heard him growl.

The ground beneath our feet rocked nearly to the point of an earthquake as Cthulhu let out a piercing screech and stepped closer. Regardless of his intentions, Butters couldn't help but take a step back at the approach of the Old One.

Cartman raced forward—going for Butters rather than trying to stop me. Which was probably the better choice, considering what happened next.

One moment I was myself—but the next Cthulhu was in my mind, and I was in his. For a split second I could see it all; Cthulhu's birth and rise to power, all of the struggles and successes the God had faced in the aeons he existed. I could see the lust for Butters' death in his head, and in that moment, it made sense.

That was the scariest part of it all to me—the feeling of wanting to kill Butters; of understanding the power that he contained in that tiny little frame of his, and realizing all of the potential that Cthulhu would put to good use by killing the boy and keeping the power for himself.

And then I was alone in my own mind again, staggering backwards from Butters and Cartman and—when had I gotten so close to them? Cartman pulled a gun on me, one hand wrapped around Butters' waist as I fell to the ground at his feet again. There were dark red marks along Butters' neck, already beginning to form bruises where Cthulhu—I had tried to choke him.

Butters was breathing heavily, clutching Cartman as he aimed the pistol at my chest. I knew it wouldn't stop Cthulhu if he killed me, though. The Old One was already trying to worm his way back into my mind, and I clutched at my head in agony as I tried to fight him off.

"Kenny!" I could hear Butters cry through the curtain of pain.

"He's already gone." Cartman snapped. I wanted to yell at him for being so rough with Butters—with my Butters, as he'd become in my mind, somewhere along the way. Butters dropped to his knees beside me, grabbing me by the shoulders.

"Kenny; please. This is what I was brought back to South Park for. You have to kill me!" Even as he spoke the words, I could see the tears in his eyes. "Don't worry; I'll be okay with Damien. H-he didn't seem like such a bad guy—" I surged forward, wrapping my arms around him in a hug that knocked the wind out of him. "Eric will make sure that Karen gets to go to community college, l-like we talked about." He told me, frantically clutching at the back of my jacket.

Cthulhu was screaming now, trying to get into my mind more fervently than before.

"E-Eric, you'll make sure Karen's okay, right? When I'm gone—tell him you will!" Butters was as frantic as Cthulhu, his hands roaming over my back and arms, settling on the sides of my face. I was trying so hard to keep the Old One from invading my head that I couldn't enjoy the feeling of his hands on my skin. The one time I could fucking touch him without worrying about that damn ring and one of us was about to die—one of us had to die.

"Fuck no! I-I won't do it! Not if he kills you!" Eric cried. The gun was still pointed at us—at me, but his hand was shaking too much to get a clear shot. Or maybe it was me that was shaking too much to get a clear view of the gun; it was hard to tell through the effort of keeping Cthulhu at bay. "Come with me, Butters. I-I can protect you. Let Cthulhu have Kenny and come back with me and Ike." His voice wavered with emotion.

"He won't give up," I snarled at Eric. "He's trying to take over my body—to kill Butters," I looked up at Cartman as I crushed Butters against me one last time. I could feel his tears soaking into my neck as he buried his face there. In that brief moment of clarity a thought struck. If Cartman shot me when Cthulhu was in my body, it might just take him with me. If not—at least Cthulhu wouldn't be able to lay a hand on Butters with me gone. It might be the only chance we had at stopping him—and I didn't have time to consider the options any further before Cthulhu managed to break my will.

"You have to shoot me!" Cartman's eyes were wide as he stood paralyzed with fear over the two of us. "Now!"

It was all up to Cartman now.

The last thing I can remember was the burning need to kill the boy who I'd fallen so in love with, and the pain of the bullet tearing through my chest.

Cthulhu must have tried to cast some kind of spell over South Park as he fell that night, for the last time. Cartman had done just like I'd hoped he would, and Cthulhu was gone—with only a single bullet. I think it had something to do with the Old One being in my body at the time Cartman fired that bullet—because like Damien said, only an immortal can kill an immortal. It was only thanks to the strange scroll that Butters had picked up in his dreams that I had been brought back at all. Just like it had done for Butters before me, the scroll had granted me the temporary ability to be reborn—my powers had disappeared along with Cthulhu, it seemed.

I wasn't going to test this theory, but when I was reborn that final time, there was a subtle difference in my being; as if a weight on my very soul was gone. And it felt amazing.

The scroll hadn't only protected me, though. Cthulhu had tried to destroy all of South Park along with us, casting a terrible spell in our intertwined dying breath to carry out his whims. If it hadn't been for the mystical abilities infused with the scroll he would have succeeded, I had no doubt.

It was heart wrenching to return to South Park to find things the way they had been, though. The way they were before Butters had ever stumbled into my life, I mean.

In an effort to protect us all the scroll had sent us as far back as it could before this all began—to the point that Butters never did find that ring at Clyde's party. To the point that we'd never met that afternoon at Kyle and Stan's house, and we'd never gotten the chance to become friends again.

I tried not to notice him when we passed one another on the street. Or when Karen started hanging out with Ike and, in turn, Butters. It was almost as if the universe was taunting me, telling me to take what was mine, even though clearly he wasn't. Butters had told me so himself on multiple occasions, although now I supposed that those conversations had never taken place.

Not in this dimension at least.

Henrietta was waiting for me the following night, just like she was every Thursday night, and she opened the door eagerly as I approached through the lawn. I still hadn't come up with the best way to explain the situation to her—to explain that Cthulhu was no more, and that we had succeeded without her being aware that she'd even participated in the slaying of an Old One to begin with.

"Mysterion! I found something inte—" I cut her off with a fierce hug, unable to contain the visions dancing behind my eyes of that night. She hesitantly patted me on the back, her Goth mindset unable to wrap itself around the idea of a friendly touch.

"Henri," I clutched her tightly in my arms, the feel of a warm body against my own more comforting than I'd originally thought it would be. "I need to tell you something." Before she had a chance to reply I pulled out of her arms, flipping my hood down and slipping my mask off in one fluid motion.

Henrietta stood motionless before me, her eyes roaming across my face at lightning speed before returning to meet my eyes. "Kenny McCormick." She was calmer this time than last, though a hint of betrayal was still evident in her tone.

"Yeah. I figured you should probably know. It's been me. It's always been me," I felt awkward standing in front of her without my mask on, her dark eyes so judgmental. I thought about what she told me last time, that I looked like an idiot without the mask. I gave her a grin and slipped the mask back on. "And my curse—it's gone."

That she could seem to find a voice for. "Gone how? Just like that? How do you know for certain?" The revelation seemed to make her forget that she was supposed to be mad at me for deceiving her this entire time, and she didn't protest when I spun her around with a hand on her shoulder and led her back into the house. It was way too fucking cold out to be standing on the porch, even if it was a beautifully clear night with all the stars out, illuminating the night better than the streetlamps themselves.

"This is going to sound, well, fucked up. Because it is." We settled into her room as usual, and I launched into my story as soon as she was sitting. "You were there the night it happened. The night that Cartman summoned Cthulhu—you remember Eric Cartman, yeah?" She nodded skeptically, "It's pretty complicated, but basically, Cartman summoned Cthulhu because he thought with his help they could bring Butters back to life." I had to pause at the mention of Butters and the things Ike and Cartman had told me about him, giving Henrietta enough time to speak.

"Butters Stotch? The faggy kid who works at the coffee shop? He died?"

"Yeah," I tried to keep my face neutral as I nodded. "Not in this dimension; thank God. But I always wondered why Cthulhu didn't kill me as a kid—I mean, I was right there the entire time—and you helped us—Butters and I, figure out why." I was surprised she was listening as intently as she was, but then again, Henrietta was always the type to enjoy a good story. "He was waiting for the right time to use me. To use me to kill Butters—I think he's been trying to manipulate me my entire life, actually."

The ninja star incident stuck out in particular in my mind. Butters had been right when he'd told me that I was old enough to know better at that age. I had known better. It was almost as if—as if I'd been possessed by some otherworldly power, and forced to try and kill him that afternoon. Although, it could have all been my imagination. I was a pretty fucked up kid. We all were, I think, coming from a town like South Park.

"Damn," Was all Henrietta managed to mutter as she chewed a nail absentmindedly. I could see her mind running circles at the overload of information, and waited for her questions, which were sure to come. "So, why do you remember all of this happening but nobody else does? Are you absolutely certain you haven't been slipped, like, LSD or some shit?"

"I'm sure." There was no way this pain in my chest was fake. "I think it has something to do with this," I still had the scroll, and I pulled it out now for her to see. She reacted now the same way she'd done before, snatching the cylinder from my open hand and turning it this way and that as she watched the iridescent metal with interest.

"I know what this is!" She exclaimed, opening the the cap and slipping the actual scroll from the container. "This scroll—where did you get this?"

"Butters picked it up. I'm still not sure where," I watched as she unraveled the membrane-like scroll and marveled over the hieroglyphs revealed. "I want you to keep it. It's done it's job for me; you'd get more out of it now than I ever will."

Her eyes flew to mine. "Are you sure? This is a priceless artifact."

"Think of it as payment for all you've done for me all these years."

Henrietta wasn't the type to wear her heart on her sleeve like I was, so when she pulled me into a delicate hug I knew I'd done at least one thing right that evening.

It really shouldn't have surprised me that Stan and Kyle would hook up in this dimension as well. I mean, sure, the circumstances this time around were a little different, but those two were fucking destined to be together—destined in a different way than Butters and I were, hopefully. I made sure to smile brightly at the two of them when they came into the Photo Dojo with their hands clasped together, even though the sight of them looking so fucking happy was tearing me up inside.

"Kenny," Kyle smiled at me as they approached the register where I was sitting, slouched over on the tiny stool behind the counter.

"Hey, guys." I pretended not to notice the way that Stan's hands lingered on Kyle's side as they joined me at the counter, or the way that Kyle's normally sharp eyes softened when he glanced over at Stan at the touch. "So what can I do for you on this fine afternoon? You aren't here about this thing with Ike and Karen, are you? I swear, I'm going to strangle that kid if he doesn't quit trying to get her to smoke pot with him."

"Kenny," Kyle repeated. "We have something to tell you. You're the first—to know." He shifted his weight awkwardly, and I grinned. This was too good not to milk for all it was worth.

"What is it? Oh god—don't tell me he's got her pregnant already."

"They've only been hanging out for a couple weeks, calm down." Stan looked at me skeptically, as if he knew exactly what I was up to.

"No! I must protect my sister's innocence! Your brother is a-a player!" Okay, so maybe I was reading too many of Karen's romance novels lately, judging from Kyle's near-horrified expression.

"Will you stop for ten seconds? We're trying to have a serious conversation with you." Stan frowned, crossing his arms.

"About what? The fact that you're gay? I've known for years. But it's great that the two of you have finally realized it for yourselves." I put my head in my hands and looked up at them with a little smile. The shock on their faces was too perfect.

"You knew? But—we—how?"

"I have a keenly developed gaydar. It helps me spot like-minded individuals," I tapped my head and gave them a wink. "Call me up if you're ever interested in hooking up, will you?"

"That's gross, Kenny! God, I don't know why we thought you would be the best person to come to." Kyle sounded genuinely upset, and I instantly felt bad.

"Really, I'm happy for you," I smiled as sincerely as I could muster at the time being. Both of them seemed to accept this without much trouble, and I made sure to tease the two of them when Stan leaned in to kiss Kyle gently.

The pair didn't hang around the shop long; I guess I was the first in a long line of people they were coming out to. Although I was sure they were going to hear a similar variation on what I'd already told them no matter where they went. Everyone in South Park was positive that the two of them were going to hook up sooner or later; there had been rumors going on about them since middle school—hell, there could have been rumors going on in elementary school—I can't remember that far back.

Either way, the sight of the two of them so clearly infatuated with one another only served to make me feel worse about my situation with Butters.

I figured the boss man wouldn't mind me closing up early to take a quick smoke break. Once Stan and Kyle were gone I was too full of anxiety to sit in the shop and wait all day for customers that weren't going to show up.

Grabbing my keys and jacket, my cigarettes tucked safely into the pocket, I headed out. Maybe you could call it fate, or destiny, or whatever, but I decided to go somewhere I hadn't gone in years.

You could see nearly all of South Park from the view over Phil Collin's Hill. The rebuilt city—I guess it hadn't ever been destroyed in this reality—was peaceful as another quiet afternoon began to give way to another quiet evening. The hill sits almost directly above Stark's Pond, and I remembered Butters mentioning once when we were kids that he liked to go up there when he was feeling sad.

It was a stupid reason to want to go up there; to have some connection to Butters even though he didn't remember anything about that night, or the weeks leading up to it.

Looking down at the city, in my current mood, was enough to throw me into a fit of nostalgia. Stark's Pond was frozen over as it usually was around this time of year, and the waning sunlight was reflecting off the ice and glittering brightly.

"Kenny McCormick?" I spun at the sound of my name being blurted out so insecurely. Butters was there, wringing his hands together and hardly meeting my gaze. I didn't know he still visited this place.

"Butters," I wasn't sure if he would recognize the longing I couldn't keep from slipping into my tone. If he heard it at all he didn't mention it; instead moving slowly to stand beside me on the top of the hill. "How are you?" I asked, since this was technically the first time I'd met him since he got back from school in LA.

He shifted his weight away from me, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to turn back. "I, uh, good, I suppose," I grinned wider at the red that dusted his cheeks. A silence descended over us; and I knew Butters was going to flee soon unless I took a chance.

"I hope Karen turns out as fucking amazing as you." I blurted out. I could feel Butters eyes burning into me, but I remained turned away, looking off into the rolling valleys of snow below. The tips of my ears had to be red, whether Butters would attribute it to the cold or embarrassment I wasn't sure.

"Like me? But...why?" The awe was noticeable in his tone. "I'm not really good at anythin', and the things I am good at usually end up gettin' people killed. You don't want her to end up like me, honest." This time my gaze turned to his. The anger in my eyes made Butters take a step back, but I was there to grab his arm before he could get too far. I wasn't angry at him; I was angry at everyone in his fucking like, telling him that he wasn't good enough. "I-I'm not very smart, and most people don't like me—"

"Jesus Christ. Are you fucking blind?" I said through gritted teeth. I stumbled over my words at first as I tried to explain myself to this kid who didn't remember anything we'd been through together. "You're—you're so fucking perfect, Butters! Even with all the shit we put you through as a kid—all the shit your parents put you through—I can't fucking believe how—how, good you turned out." Butters was speechless as he looked at me with wide eyes. It probably seemed to come out of nowhere; but damn it, I wasn't going to let him slip away. "And who gives a fuck what anybody else thinks." I added as an afterthought.

"Well, I give a fuck," Butters mumbled anxiously.

"You shouldn't," I loomed closer into his personal space. "I want Karen to be as kind, and caring, and able to find the good in people like you can. I want her to see that the world isn't full of douche bags like our parents, and see that there are people who aren't out to hurt you. I only wish I'd seen it before you left in the first place."

The wind nipped at our jackets and tossed our hair in every direction. Butters dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh.

"You're... you're impossible, Kenny—" I cut him off, sealing my lips over his. This was probably the end for us—for me—Butters was frozen beneath my touch. I don't know what I was expecting, honestly. I pulled away, releasing his arms and taking a half step back to give him some space.

"W-what makes you think I'm wantin' to hear all this stuff now?" Butters was flushed, his breathing heavy as he grabbed at his hair. "First you tell me you don't want anythin' to do with me, and then you go and—" Butters cut himself off, biting his lip in embarrassment.

"You can say it; go ahead," I urged. In the cold mountain air our breath mingled, the short white puffs from Butters lips intertwining with the breathy sign from my own.

"I'd rather not."

"I kissed you." Kenny supplied, grinning cheekily when Butters gave a tiny nod. "And you liked it?"

He didn't respond at first, and for one frighteningly long moment I was sure he was going to push me away.

Then the thin pursed line of Butters' lips quirked up in a small smile.

 

THE END

 

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