A/N: UPDATED AS OF January 30, 2008

So, I originally wrote this at, like three in the morning, it has actually been an intelligible idea just wafting through my head for the last year or so. I thought to myself how emo and otherworldly, yet somehow still cracky I could make Kenny. Oh and Butters. I wuv Butters. Yet, I don't have a damn Title…

Warning: Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.

Disclaimer: Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.

Summary: Mix a bit of Supernatural, GhostBusters, Danny Phantom, and maybe The Dead Zone and you won't even come close to this cracky story. Which is just an excuse to write some KennyxButters love action. R&R and I may… do stuff.

Remember:

"Blah" – Speech

Blah –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

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PROLOGUE

You know those stories where the main guy introduces himself? He's a super cool guy, all normal and kind and what not? He's got a nice family, awesome friends, maybe even a love interest? You find out in the prologue he's hiding a secret. He's a super hero. Almost like Spider-Man or Bat-Man. He can, like, fly, see into the future, and dodge bullets? Oh yeah—you freaks know what I'm talking about.

That isn't the way my story happens at all.

My name is Kenny McCormick. I suck at school, I'm a nympho, and I'm the poor kid in a small town where the craziest shit happens. Smallville and Supernatural combined kind of shit.

However, I do have a kind of cool super hero power. In fact, my friends and I are a crack team put together by the son of the devil. That's correct, THE devil. Are we evil, you ask? I doubt it… well, Cartman might be… no, no, he is evil. The selfish evil though.

If that helps.

Err—pressing forward.

It all began simply. At the end of fifth grade, all hell broke lose. Satan got back together with an old lover, who then imprisoned him in ice, and tries the damnedest (haha, that could almost be a pun) to take over the world with renegade demons and the like. So Damien, in his infinite girly scream, ordered me and my friends to fix the problems up on Earth.

I know, right?

Suffice to say my ability to regenerate and come back to life led me to infect and bring out my closest friends' hidden qualities, making us the prefect and oh-so cliché "Ghostbusters" and (the like) team. Damn me and my sexiness.

The set up is simple. So please, follow with me…

Cartman is actually a psychic. That fall to the head in fourth grade really did do something to him. He gets the vision of whatever horrid thing is wreaking havoc on our mortal plane. After we find out our target from Cartman we go straight on to Kyle.

The Jew is a fucking genius. He does the research work and goes through the books and internet and finds out about all parties involved and hotspots and all kinds of different stuff I am terrible at. For example, were a vampire-like creature might hang out in the daylight. Without him, we would be lost in fog.

So then there is Stan; the boy is an empath (pussy). He gets sent out to the field. He takes all the energy and finds out who and what exactly I might be dealing with. Let's say we find out something is hiding in a church yard, Stan would be able to detect the slightest malicious intention and could point me at the most likely priest. The guy is also a wonderful lie detector. Comes in handy more often than not.

Finally we go through me. I do reconnaissance. I am the one that goes out and fights off whatever demon or misguided spirit we've been searching for. Normally I die more than once. I've been burned, lost limbs, gone blind, and—my favorite when dealing with those damn succubus bitches—castrated.

I almost hate my life, but it's not boring.

Anyway, that's basically what I do for a living. Or maybe it's a hobby… The thing is I'm not a super hero. Not your average one, in the least. I don't really know if I have to do it, or I'm obligated to, but I figure, why not? No one else is stepping up to the challenge.

Other than that, I go to school—and fail—and I go one dates. I have a family. I got some great friends. I'm a lazy bisexual slut. My name is Kenny.

Oh, and that other blond boy over there? His name is Butters.

I happen to be terribly smitten with him.

It just so happens, too, that Eric Cartman called me on cell 2 and half minutes after I got home from my lovely trip to hell at 3:16 in the morning to tell me that Leopold "Butters" Scotch will approximately die in one week due to a water demon strangling him under Stark's Pond.

Oh fuck me… This is going to be a wonderful assignment.