PRE A/N FROM THE FUTURE: Hello, all. This is 2017 Courtanie. Now 25 as opposed to lil unmedicated teen me that wrote this. I need to make this explicitly clear: I am ashamed of the mess this story is. Literally I am keeping it up for personal nostalgic reasons and that alone because it was my baby back in the day. I don't remember half of this, I just know that it got way too OOC, way too violent, there is WAY too much noncon for literally no reason, apparently I didn't think LUBE was important, and it's just a disaster. (Also there's sex in a tree somewhere I remember that better than literally anything else why did I do that.) I do know that I got super whiny in Author's Notes along the way because, as I said, teenager and unmedicated and taking literally all my life frustrations and slamming them into blurbs. Please I am begging you not to subject yourself to this. I have vastly improved since this monstrosity and eventually I'd like to do a full redo of this story once inspiration comes back for it. I loved the premise but I just missed the mark hardcore. That's what happens when you get your first taste of fandom and your first taste of fans amirite. Please. Let lil Court die the slow, painful, readerless death that she earned with this. There's a reason the majority of the reviews are negative, kiddos. They're a warning, and they should be heeded. Should you proceed, do not say you were not warned. I'm just sayin'.

A/N: I'm starting another one! Yays =)

This is actually gonna be Kenny and Kyle slash, I don't know why. I had this idea randomly as I lied awake for four fucking hours while spending the night at a friends house. I should've brought my damn laptop. I could have actually accomplished something.

Anyways, enough of my rant. This is going to be filled with smexiness just like "JAY" , but whether or not it'll contain torture...well that's up to my mood to decide XD

Enjoy =D

"MOTHER FUCK!" he screamed into the darkness. He took his right hand and ran his fingers through his coarse blonde hair in frustration.

"What's up your ass?" came a voice from behind him.

He whipped around and came face to face with a pale boy with dark ebon hair and glowing ruby eyes. "Hey, Damien," he muttered.

Damien walked up to him and slapped him on the back playfully. "Another few hours to hang out, huh?"

He sighed deeply. "Yeah. Because you know," he stated sarcastically, "it's not like I have anything better to do." Damien laughed at this.

"Like what," he chuckled. "drinking and fucking everything in sight?"

"Well, while that sounds tempting, no," he replied. "I actually had a social engagement today."

"Oh," Damien grins. "a social engagement. Sounds really prissy."

He turns and glares at the raven boy. "Actually, it's one of my best friend's birthday. I was supposed to go over and hang out with him and the other guys," he sighed. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

"Why don't you come tell me about it over some beer?" Damien suggested. He stared into the emptiness and suddenly, a table with two chairs and a cooler full of beer burst into existence. He wasn't awed though, he'd seen it plenty of times before. Damien took his arm and guided him over to the table and sat him down.

"Now then," Damien begins, staring at him as he took a few sips of his beverage. "What's on your mind, Kenny?"

Kenny slammed his beer down on the table and looked into his piercing red eyes. "I'm just so fucking sick of this day in and day out. I'm sick of transporting between this world and the next without even knowing how the fuck I'm doing it," he paused and looked at Damien, who hadn't touched his beer yet. "I just...I just don't know what to fucking do anymore. I can't do anything because I'm always fucking getting killed," he finished.

Damien leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his bottle. Once he finished, he set it down and stared intently at Kenny. "What's so bad about it?" He finally asks. "You have some unknown power that no other human possesses!"

"I don't want the stupid power if it's the reason I die constantly! Why do I die on a day-to-day basis?"

"You spilled a hell of a lot of salt?" Damien suggests with a shrug.

"My family can't fucking afford salt. Just ask Cartman," Kenny muttered, rolling his eyes.

"The fatass? You still hang around with him?"

"Well, it's a piss-poor town, Dam. There aren't a lot of people to get acquainted with. You take what you can fucking get."

"True I guess. There's a lot of people to hang with down here though. We're the most heavily populated area in the universe."

"Yes, but a lot of them are either total jackasses or they're decades older than me!"

"Well, it is Hell, Kenny. You can't expect everyone to be Mother Theresa."

"And even she's a total bitch down here!" Kenny whined, sipping down another mouthful of beer. "I don't know. I just want the damn dying to stop. I'd love a normal life, ya know?"

"How'd you die this time?" Damien inquired.

"There was this hobo who stopped me on the street and asked for some money. When I told him to fuck off, he smacked me over the head with his fucking cart."

"Humans are so cruel," Damien stated.

"Oh, and you're just perfect, aren't you Mr. Son of Satan?"

"Hey, I'm better behaved than most people down here. I just hang around and drink. I haven't killed anyone in a long-ass time."

"And we're all so very proud of you," Kenny replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh fuck off, McCormick."

"Love to, but burns like crazy trying to fuck down here."

"There's a reason for that. You're being punished."

"For what? I was a freaking kid when this started happening!"

"Even then you were a twisted little sex-freak."

Kenny leaned back and smiled. "True. I've always loved me some action."

Damien rolled his eyes. "So, who's birthday was it you were trying to celebrate?"


"The ginger boy?"


"What the fuck ever. Shouldn't he be know...around intelligent people?"

Kenny laughed at this. "Ya know, I've been saying the same damn thing for years. But nope, he presses on with us three."

"Marsh still around, too?"

"Geez, Damien, I talk about them constantly when I'm down here. Do you ever listen to me?"

Damien smiled sheepishly. "Honestly, no. I hear you start gushing about what wonderful friends you have and it makes me nauseous. I tend to just tune you out...or try to imagine how to kill you twice over to shut you up."

"Lot of good it'd do you. I'd be right back."

"True. I still don't know why you have that ability."

"Do you think your dad knows?" Kenny asked.

"Probably. But he's up to his horns in paperwork lately."

"The devil does paperwork? He filing for an audit or something?" Kenny asked, trying his best to suppress his laughter.

"Ha ha, very funny," Damien stated dryly. "No, the number of deaths have skyrocketed since that Cyrus bitch died from her little OD-spree."

"I personally almost wet my pants with joy that day," Kenny responded.

"Yes, but you have good taste. All of her little pre-teen minions and their mothers who started her fucking career have been offing themselves in 'grief'."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Ya know, I've died 365 days a year for seventeen years, and not one of those deaths have been suicide. People like that are so fucking weak."

"Agreed. Total wastes of the air that you could be breathing."

"Don't rub it in, demon boy."

"Sorry. Anyways, my father. We can ask him later. Well, try at least."

"Do you think he'll be able to do something about it?"

"Depends on his mood. He'll probably say yes since he knows you so damn well."

"I doubt that's something I'd be able to brag about later in life," Kenny stroked his chin.

"Hm, could be useful if your being threatened."

"Oh yea, that'd be great," Kenny replied. "'FEAR ME, FOR MYSELF AND SATAN HAVE HAD TEA TIME TOGETHER!'" He joked, holding his arms above his head in exclamation.

Damien laughed softly. "Okay, maybe not. But, why is it such a problem? I mean, why does it bug you to die so much, especially since you know that you'll be back in a few hours."

"That's not the point, Damien," he glanced at his watch. "The point is, right now I could be celebrating my buddy's special day and I fucking can't. It's just upsetting."

"He's had other birthdays."

"And I've missed them all!"

"Well then he should be used to it!"

"Once again, my demonic pal you've missed the point."

"I get it, Dude. You want to be there. Nothing you can do about it right now," Damien commented.

Kenny slammed his hand down on the tabletop and glared at Damien. "Look," he started. "I'm going to fucking figure this out. I'm going to see Kyle and get him his present before the day is over. Got it?"

Damien sighed and stood from the table. "Why don't you look, Kenny? Let's say you do figure this out and you get rid of this ability. Then you get in a car accident or something. Then what? You die for real. Think that your friends would appreciate that?"

Kenny stared at him for a moment, considering this situation. "Well...I think they'd be happy that I'm not in a constant motion and I finally can rest."

Damien cocked an eyebrow at him. "Bullshit."

"Okay, well, I'm sure that someone would be okay with it. Cartman probably wouldn't give two shits. And Stan's too busy with sports for really dealing with his feelings..."

"And the Daywalker?"

"Kyle would...well. He'd Well considering...uhhhh..."

"He'd be heartbroken?"

"How the fuck should I know? Kyle's fucking impossible to read. Cartman's constant bitching always has him keeping quiet so he doesn't start the Fatass's rampage."

"I thought he was the opinionated one."

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," Kenny grinned. "But lately he's been...I dunno. He's seemed a bit distant. Especially towards Stan and me. It's a little weird. But it's just family problems, I'm sure. His mom's fucking insane."

"Poor kid."

"Eh, he's all right, I'm sure. That kid has a will strong enough to withstand just about anything."

"You tend to gush when you talk about him, ya know," Damien grinned.

Kenny grinned back. "Yea, but what can I do? Me and him have been pretty much inseparable since elementary school. He's the only other person I trust."

"Hm. Well, then we better go get you to your party then, huh?"

"Thought your dad was busy."

"He always is," Damien shrugs. "But I'm sure he'd be okay with a momentary distraction."

"Sweet," Kenny replied, pushing himself off of the table.

"Alright, hold on," Damien stated as he focused towards his dad's location. Kenny bit his lip. He knew that this was perfectly safe...but he still found it just a bit weird and quite a bit on the impossible side. In mere seconds, they found themselves in the office of Satan himself.

"Hey Pops," Damien greeted.

"What is it, Son? I'm pretty busy," the dark figure asked.

"Kenny here has something he'd like to ask you," Damien responded as he gave Kenny a gentle shove forward.

"Ah, yes. Hello, Kenny," Satan waved.

"Hey, Dude. How ya been?"

"Busiest season of my life. Now, what seems to be the problem?" He asked with his back turned, shuffling papers.

"Um...well, I was come I can keep coming back to life?" Satan stopped his shuffling and put his papers down. He turned towards Kenny and stared at him for a moment before breaking into a malicious smile.

"I've waited for seventeen years for you to finally ask that question, Kenny McCormick."

Kenny looked at him confusedly, glancing towards Damien and seeing that he too was staring at his father.

"Y-you have?" Kenny stuttered.

Satan motioned towards two chairs and the boys took the seats. He himself sat behind his desk, pushing his stacks of papers to the ground and folding his hands in front of him.

"Yes, Kenny. There is a special meaning to you and"

"With all due respect, Sir. I hardly consider it a gift."

"That's understandable. I would think the same. Every day you've found some new way to die. It's stressful I'm sure."

"You should hear him bitching about it, Pops," Damien said. "He hates it."

"Why'd it take you so long to finally ask me, Kenny?"

"Well, I just wasn't sure what to say. I mean, I'm sure you know what's going on and everything...but still. I dunno. Maybe I'm just too fucking lazy."

"I bet," Damien sneered and Satan shot him a warning glance.

"Not necessarily lazy. Probably just confused."

"So, you know what's wrong with me?"

Satan smiled gently. "My boy, there's nothing wrong with you, per se. You have, as I said, a gift. One that can be cured."

Kenny sat up on the edge of his seat. "Really?" He squeaked. "How? I'll do anything! Anything!"

Satan leaned back in his chair. "You do realize that you just said that to the devil," he chuckled.

"I don't care! Satan, Dude, I need to live a normal life! This whole thing is driving me completely insane!"

"Now, I never said that your life would be normal if you do this," Satan warned. "I merely said that the death-life cycle you live now would cease. You'd die once more and only once."

"Kenny," Damien put a hand in front of him and pushed him back into his seat. "You need to hear him out first, otherwise who knows what you might end up in?"

"Damien, you wouldn't make a very good Prince of Darkness if you keep that up. Let the gullible fools go down. It makes the job so much easier."

"Not if they're my friend, Pops," Damien mutters. Kenny grinned at this. Though it was heavily implied, neither of them had actually claimed that they held a friendly relationship, even though they saw each other on a daily basis.

"Please, Sir," Kenny pled. "I just want to go back for my friend's birthday. Tell me what I have to do."

"Ah, Kyle Broflovski's big day is today, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Kenny stared at him. "How'd you know?"

"Ha ha, in all honesty, I await all of your friend's birthdays because I knew that they'd be the most likely day that you'd ask me this question so you could get back to Earth."

"Why, Dad?" Damien questioned.

Satan grinned. "Kenny," he leaned forward. "In exchange for your normal life, I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" he asked.

"Well, actually, it's less a favor and more a job. That with a few conditions."


"You see, Kenny. I'm a very busy man. Death doesn't stop, no matter how you try to control it. And since all but the Mormons end up here, we work nonstop while God is up there playing with his friends and their magic underwear," he commented, waving his hand up towards the ceiling.

"Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Kenny, what would you say if I told you that you were to become me, in a sense?"

"Um, I'd say...oh my god what the fuck are you talking about?"

Damien stared at his father with awe. "Father," he began frantically. "This can't be him, right? He can't be the...the vessel, right?"

"Vessel?" Kenny asked.

Satan nodded at them both. "Yes, son. He's what we've been waiting for for thousands of years."

"What?" Kenny asked, more confused than before.

Damien turned towards Kenny and took a deep breath. "You're the passage between the living and the dead. It's you who can find spirits, once Father awakens your powers that is," he pauses and gestures towards Satan.

"Why would I want to find spirits?"

Satan sighed. "As I said, I'm a busy man, and not all souls are actually able to pass on. They get lost or confused or they have unfinished business that they need resolved. I need you to go find those spirits and help them pass so they can finally take their place here."

"Wouldn't that like, dramatically increase your workload?"

"Quite the contrary," Damien stated. "It's the souls that can't pass that back up the system and cause things to fall out of order."

"Why me? Why can't Damien do it? He's got powers." Kenny points out.

"But I don't have a pure, human soul as you do," Damien answered.

"Kenny, the reason you keep dying is because you needed to learn of the passage between Earth and Hell. You needed to realize that you have a unique ability."

"Why couldn't you just tell me the first time?" Kenny asked, his anger beginning to slightly spike.

"As I said, you needed to realize it on your own," Satan replied. "Otherwise, you may not have been up for your task."

"So, I just have to get people to like, fully die?"

"That's putting it rather blatantly, but yes," Satan said.

"Doesn't that make me, like, you know...a murderer?"

Damien laughed, "Not since they're already dead, you moron."

"Oh," he responded quietly. "How many souls are there?"

"Billions," Satan replied dryly. "But your job is to get as many as you can situated for the afterlife. You can't get them all, but you need to get as many as possible. I know this seems like a lot of responsibility, but I think you'd do just fine," he smiled gently.

"You said there'd be conditions," Kenny breathed. "What would they be?"

"First," Damien started. "You'd be obligated to live a full life. No suicide or any shit like that to shirk off of your duties."

"I already said that people that off themselves are fucking pussies, Damien."

"If you died," he continued, "from like, a hobo, you'd be brought back to life as always. But you would not die everyday. You'd experience death as often as the average person."

"I like that condition," Kenny thought as he nodded.

"The second condition," Satan began, "is the knowledge of your abilities. You MUST keep them under wraps."

"What if I don't?"

"Then that person would gain your abilities as well, but it'd take a major toll on both of your life spans."

"And third," Damien continued as he leaned towards him, "is what happens should you refuse your responsibilities."


"You would lose the most precious possession in your life," Satan finished.

Kenny gasped. "Not my Playboys! I beg you, take me instead!"

Damien laughed and hit his arm. "You're such a douchebag, McCormick."

"You should talk," Kenny smirked.

"So, Kenny. Do we have a deal?" Satan asked, grinning and outstretching his hand.

Kenny weighed his options. On one hand, he'd have to constantly work and listen to spirits bitching about their problems and then having to fix them...on the other hand, he may be constantly caught up in work...but he'd be able to live everyday and see his friends.

"Today, Kenny," Damien growled impatiently.

Kenny looked towards him then towards Satan himself. He grinned and slapped his hand into Satan's and shook.

He saw a golden light and heard the angelic sounds of nature briefly surrounding him, engulfing him in a sense of inner peace. It ended far too soon, however as the light dimmed down into blackness.

A/N: A REALLY slow start, but I'm kinda pumped about this story. I may even start the second chapter after I post this =D

I think this will be a pretty long story, full of hardships, heartbreak...and smexiness, haha.

And I JUST now realized that once again, I've started the story on Kyle's birthday XD

This time, he's 17, haha. But I don't think the poor lad will be as tortured as I made him in "Just Another Year"...not physically at least. But as I said in the first A/ all depends on my mood.

I hope you enjoy this! And yes, there will be lots of dialogue in this story, it's just gonna happen. Deal with it. Please?

Thanks for R&R-ing!