A/N: The next chapter will, in fact, be the last. I have warned you all! –tears-

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: It's going down in the chapter, so ya better pay attention! We got mysticism, religious references via music, allusions and parodies of JRR Tolkien's LOTR triliogy, one complete TOS occurrence, and a bit of scariness from SAI's own mind. This chapter is going to be more dramatic the newest ABC series, Once Upon A Time—and that's saying somethin'.

Remember:

"Blah" – Speech

Blah –Thoughts

Blah – Self Explanatory

…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN—An Epic Battle Journey Of Which Tolkien Would Be Jealous

Did you know you could get a sexual disease from camels?

Yeah. I'm not fucking kidding. My pops told me when I was, like, fourteen. We were watching one of the new MUMMY movies by that one bastard who likes special effects almost as much as Michael Bay. What's his name? Oh, Stephens Sommers! Except he likes fake animals and people and shit instead of EXPLOSIONS. Digressing—I was informed you could somehow get something like hepatitis. Ever since, I have avoided camels and petting zoos. And Angelina Joe Lee with her huge, fugly-ass camel lips. Gah! I shiver just thinking about it!

Soooooooooooooooooooooo, who the FUCK can explain why I am riding a clomping camel in the middle of hot as hell Bum-Phuck, Egypt?

Alright, not Egypt really. Or Bum-Phuck. We're somewhere. Kyle knows exactly where.

"Where are we?" I called out, gingerly holding the reigns on my—disease-infested—camel. The redhead a few feet ahead of me didn't even turn around as he sat with his numerous scrolls and maps and papers wafting about him.

"About fifty meters—" Cartman began to sigh somewhere behind me. He would complain about the heat pretty soon. Stan and I had timed it to about every five minutes and seven seconds. Kyle kept blabbing; I ended up just shrugging off the sweat building up around my face. I probably should have ditched the parka, but it's kinda my thing.

"Too damn hot to caaaaare!" Eric whined. Stan and I traded smirks while Kyle scoffed. "When do we stoooooop?"

"Now ask when the sun goes down!" I requested. Cartman practically screeched in impatience, startling his camel pretty badly. He went flailing, tumbling head first over the carrier animal. I erupted into laughter, but was cut off when I realized my camel was shifting nervously and making frightened braying noises as well. Actually, glancing around, all the camels seemed unwilling to move further. "Wuh-WHOA!"

I soon joined Cartman on the sandy and rather unforgiving floor. Rolling over, I scrambled to get a hold of the mangy animal, but it fled too fast into the desert. The tinkering of our weapons could be heard, shaken free from the camels. "Ah! Ahhh… damn…" I shook my head, pulling down the parka top in frustration. Stan and Kyle were gathering up what the camels left behind.

"Thanks a lot, fat ass! You scared off the camels!" the genius of our group accused, tossing a pack of daggers. Cartman ducked, cussing aloud. I sighed, dusting myself off. Stan was busy staring past me. Curiously, I turned my head to follow him.

"Hey, guys… I don't think that it was Cartman…" Stan said. I looked back at the sweating raven. "I think we're getting close to the entrance of a half-way world."

"So we're close to the tower of Babel?" I question. Kyle shakes his head; he pulls out an old roadmap and a couple of notebooks.

"No, what we're close to is a gateway between two planes of existence," Kyle clarified. I step closer to see the scribbles of his papers. "I've been formulating a theory here. Now, bare with me, Kenny, but between the four of us, the only person here who is going to see this gateway if gonna be you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he answered, "You are going to have to open this gateway too."

"Okay, now you're just fucking with me," I roll my eyes and begin to walk away but the Jew yanks me back.

"Ken, I… trust me, I know you have no idea what's going on with you… but I also know you're really worried about Butters. The only way to get him back is to open this portal in front of us." Kyle always talked softer than any other person I knew. He has this heartfelt way about him. The redhead seemed to know when to use it. Apparently it was now.

"I don't see a gateway," I responded, but let his grip hold me. It was comforting to be touched by someone who cares for you, not because they wanted sex, but because they felt for you.

"You will. Between the hours of midnight and three am… You'll see…" he amended. I took in a breath and held it. I nodded once. Kyle let go and it seemed to strengthen me. My feet took me a few paces in front of my friends as they readied for the doubtless battle that would begin.

We waited for the nightfall. The cool of the night embraced me and I unzipped my parka, letting the air hit me square in the chest. Stars were winking down on me. An odd thought dawned upon me… One of the things Butters told me about was Venus… What was it he said?

…

I was so content; I hadn't grasped the fact I was humming again. Not until Butters had to comment. "You were singing that before I got to you too. What song is it? It's very beautiful. I l-like your voice."

I had snicker quietly to myself. I sped up our circling pace a bit. I had to think of an answer.

"Uh," I began stupidly, "I ain't sure. Sometimes I just kinda… sing."

"Why?" he questioned. I felt him grow closer to me.

"It… helps…" I said, my brows wrinkling.

"Helps what?"

"Dunno. Just helps me. Sometimes I just hum. Other times it's words. I'll beat out a tune. It calms me down. I don't really do it in public. I'm not too great at it," I humbly tried. Butters spun around in my arms suddenly. My feet glided to a sudden halt. My reaction was to glance down at the boy who I knew was in my arms.

"I read for my Brit Lit class during the summer that JRR Tolkien had a thing for music," he said. I remained silent, very confuzzled by this topic. Butters sighed and relaxed his hands. "He has a cosmological myth known as the Music of the Ainur."

"Cosmo-who-does-me… wha?"

"I-It's a myth of c-creation basically…" Butters explain self-consciously, "In Tolkien's world Eru is the name of God and with a host of angels, called Ainur, they sung the worlds into being. I-In fact, did you know that his famous star of Earendil is known as both the evening and morning star? The star is a-actually Venus. In my summer class, my teacher found it funny because in Christian theology, the morning star is the nickname God gave to his favorite angel… which… was… Satan… err, did I-I lose you somewhere K-Kenny?"

"Yeah, but that's okay," I mumbled, massaging my forehead.

"Really sorry… Y-You just reminded m-m-me of t-that," he tripped over his words. It caused me to grin as I let my fingers trail down his tiny hands.

"Why is that?" I inquired.

"Tolkien said the Ainur should be recognized as gods themselves for they were beings of the same order. Beauty, power, and majesty…I-I also like the think that they represented l-love as well," his voice drifted off as my face became enflamed.

…

I was staring out at the desert landscape, feeling the heat of the day rise up against my sneakers between the holes. I breathed deep, letting my clothes be tugged by an invisible cold wind. It was getting darker than we were use to. Far from the light pollution of the cities, the sky began to amaze me. The vast surrounding of nighttime crawled about our small campsite. It was unnerving at best. Even Kyle, the smartest and most levelheaded, was feeling the effects of being surrounded by shadows. Atheists stand tall, walking about in business suits, believing in nothing. No Gods, Devils, or otherwise. I can understand why… humans, as soon as we were able, found ways to clear the dark and unknown away. Fires, lamps, and eventually, electrical light. There is a primal fear of the dark. All things feral and much more powerful than ourselves lurk in these places.

I almost envy people who do not believe. They feel secure at night. But then again, they know no better, blanketed by their certainty in nothingness.

I sigh, feeling an unknown change in the air around me. My friends looked up, nodding. "Are you all ready?" I question. Stan flips on an amp. The easiest way to open any doorway is always the secret passwords…

Apparently, music works best.

"Forgive me my sins!"

A pulse in the ground erupted under me. I shifted in the sands, kneeling down to keep my balance. The dunes were rising. A steady power cord of guitars rained down upon the landscape. "Here is the darker side of me!"

"Pray for me because I have lost my faith in holy wars…"

The words rang out, sending shivers over my body nonstop. I grasped my hands together, as if in prayer. I could hear Kyle barking orders at Cartman through my headset mic. They were increasing volume. The speakers were close to blowing out. The ground kept sprouting higher, rippling under our feet, sand flew all around me…

I didn't have that much longer, and from a small, flickering part inside of me, I felt a heat rising. Strong and proud. It was unlike anything I had felt before. Dormant, lingering… Always waiting to be used, but until this morning, I couldn't muster the reasons to use it. There are so many unanswered questioned about myself.

I wonder if it mattered in this moment?

My eyes, bluer than most, opened and saw the splendid ancient pillars of the infamous Tower of Babel. I steeled my nerve. There was web working, a cracking in the thin veil between worlds; I saw it clearly traveling around us. If need be… I could shatter it to a million pieces.

"Oh my… S-Stan, do you see—"

"Yeah, we see…"

And so I shall. I breathed in deep, "How can blood be our salvation…?"

There was a pulsing, bright crimson that split the surroundings. There was a ripping sound, and the speakers around us sparked. Electric blue bolts caught into the air. There was a shift suddenly, and before we lost all power, I belted as loud as I could into the microphone—forgive me my sins.

Finally, like glittering glass shards, I breached the veil, throwing us into the halfway world. It grew dark, and a flood aof soft cherry colored light blurred our visions. By the time I shook my head clear we stood before black gates and a high tower.

All was quiet, barren and rocky, with no moon and no stars. Everything was awash in slate gray, ash, and pitch, and tar. The world was curved around this place, and a pitiless wind cut through us. I could hear laughter, mocking and shrill, echo faintly about us. There could only be one person who would laugh in such a hopeless place. I glared at the dank nothingness, almost as if I could glare directly at her. Maybe, in a weird way, I was.

"Is this the place…?" Cartman asked, for once understanding the gravity of the situation. He was not the bravest of my friends, nor the smartest, yet he was still there, behind me. Even for his selfishness, he came. I would like to count that for something.

"Yeah, I guess it is," I said. Kyle came up beside me, Stan hovering behind him protectively.

"Hey fatass," the redhead started, staring straight ahead as if mesmerized. Cartman hummed, drawing out his daggers and inspecting the sharpness. "I know it doesn't work like this, but since we're literally in the supernatural… can you tell us what future you forsee? We win, right?"

Cartman glanced up, his muddy eyes tracing up the impossible heights of the ink-stone tower. For a second, there was a flash of wavering emotion on his normal impish expression. He squeezed his eyes tight and dropped his head with a sigh. With a few shakes, he said, "It's too much like a Magic-8 Ball. Ask Again Later."

"Psh! Of course…" Kyle muttered. There's a metal bat that he twirls in his palm (it had been blessed by a priest before we set off on this quest), readying for the unknown ahead of us. "Nobody wants us to know the outcome. Lilith must be hoping to scare us off."

"I don't think so," I gulp, and turn back to see my friends lugging huge, unused weapons. It gives me pause. It startles me. I've known these boys my whole life. Despite the trouble we get into… we—well, they—are supposed to be good kids. It was my fault, somehow, that whatever end-time-gifts I have infected my friends. Since I understood that about myself, they've been doing their best to help me stop the horrors of this shadowed human realm. It wasn't fair to ask them to risk their life and limb for something that was my task, and mine alone.

Stan, who could feel the pain and emotions of others. He would physically know of all the hardships each one of us will face in the Tower.

Kyle, who is the smartest, the most technical of us all. Never having to fight, knowledge can't keep him out of harm's way, not without trail and error.

Eric Cartman, the one who could tell me what was coming next. He was going into this battle blinder than a bat outta hell.

"Guys… I…" I said, feeling my heart catch, "I'm sorry. You can't come with me." I wanted to say more, but my tongue dried out, and it was almost hard to breath. "The future of this fight is too uncertain."

Kyle glanced over to Stan, who nodded in response, turning to Cartman. That large body swayed forward, so he could clasp a beefy hand on my shoulder. "Some things are certain," he replied.

There was a look in his eyes that made mine widen. Cartman… did he… lie before? Briefly, had he caught sight of an outcome that held something unpleasant? Unbearable? What would cause him to lie…? Perhaps, in such a dismal place, one of us will not return? If so, would my friends still go willingly into doom?

I look to each of them, and the words cannot be found to ask them such a question. But, with veiled eyes of navy blue, emerald green, and dark brown, I see their unspoken answers. They've made peace with this possible fate before I could figure it out.

"There is no hope here," Stan sadly parodied my mind aloud. Kyle's grip on his bat grew tighter, and I heard the skin on his fingers squeak against cool metal. Cartman let go of me, closing his eyes, like he was trying to escape saying anything in addition. For a clear and conscious space of time, Cartman was like anyone else, and I felt for him. How silly it was for me to think Cartman wasn't so brave. I suppose, he was just fearless in different ways than I.

I face the Tower, standing taller than I have ever had to in my whole life. "No… There is no hope." Stunned silence was behind me. The hard, dark soil under my feet rumbled. That mirth of that demon bitch's voice grew even louder. "But we shall met her in battle nonetheless!"

There was a cock of a shotgun and the whistle of the blistering wind. Death surrounded us, the smell of it seeping up from the ground. It is hard to imagine, but death is a sickly sweet smell. It's a cruel trick of nature, the sweetest, most tempting smell, comes from death. I asked the figure of it once, why it smelled so sweet. A laugh, like bones rattling, responded coyly, "To put you at ease. Everyone fears death… but death is a path we all must take."

Well, it is a path I have traveled often. Hell and Back Again. That's the story of my life and afterlife. The marking on my hand burns and throbs as if scorched into me. With this accursed thing… I am unable to return to the land of the living. To the human realm. This could be the end of my strange and marvelous time. A real, true, honest death. Still, I have known the personification of Death.

"I do not fear death…" I growl. All I am armed with is a specially made demon-slaying samurai sword strapped to my back.

With steady steps, I march, possibly for the last time, into the land of sorrow. Into a confusing tornado of outraged shrieks, I push open the black gates to the courtyard set before the Tower. My lengthy, choppy hair snapped against the violent wind; the crunch of pebbles and bones reverberate from our uneven tempo of footsteps. Poisonous green flames leapt from the sconces as we pass by them, undeterred. Shadows undulate, breathing a sordid and filthy life to the dead landscape encompassing us.

We reach the entrance, and I sneak a peak over my shoulder. I shut my eyes, taking a deep lungful of smoky air. "I will understand if any of you want to wait for me here…"

"Just shut up and lead the way," Kyle quipped. Stan chuckled behind him. Cartman had a pensive look on, like he was debating my offer. In the end, he shrugged, waving his hand uncaringly forward.

"Go on. Get going, Macbeth," he blurted out, bored, "Let us save the fair lady Eowyn from the Tower and be done with it."

"Eowyn?" Stan parroted, confused.

"Yeah, from the Shakespeare play. Oh Macbeth! Oh Macbeth! Wherefore art thou? It was in that one Peter Jackson movie… No?"

"There was so much wrong with that analogy, I-I don't even know where to begin," the Jew gave a ragged sigh. I smiled at my hapless friends. They might not be much to most people, but to me, they count. I do not think I could do this without them.

…

We had climbed endlessly, for what seemed like hours. Although we were gun-ho when we entered the Tower, we had to slow our pace. My legs were aching, and my breath kept coming in short. Cartman was almost a puddle of sweat and profanity. Stan was leaning against a banister, huffing and puffing. Kyle had his hand on his chest, counting his heart rate. Every torch we shambled by alighted the dark recesses of the impeding Tower. At every shadow and cackle and rustle, we all jumped, fumbling at our belts and backs.

Yet nothing.

"What do we know about the Tower of Babel?" I questioned Kyle, who was perched beside an arched opening for a window. The stormy world outside this dark thing was shuddering, blowing at us a hailstorm of embers and pale cinders.

"Aside from the quick blurb in the Old Testament, we have no clue what it's like," he said, wheezing. Cartman was nearly crying, hobbling up behind us. Stan was wiping his brow, glancing up. He seemed to train his eyes on something.

"Wait, look! If we climb a few more cases, I think we reach a landing!" the raven pointed. We all followed his finger. Excitedly, we raced, bumping into each other, and tripping over our own feet. The prospect of a rest, or an end, was a delight to us all.

"H-How many stories do you think w-we climbed?" Eric sobbed in near joy. He was obviously rooting for the finale. Flames burst around us as we trekked, renewed at the idea of progress. True to his incredible eyesight, Stan was correct. As we rounded a corner, there was a doorway looming in front of us. I skidded across the smooth surfaced of the floor, smacking into the doorjamb in my haste.

Stan was right behind me, pausing to find more air to breath. Then Kyle was quickly attached to his back, colliding into him by accident. Cartman slowed considerably behind the three of us, taking a knee on a lower step, face purpling. I swiveled to see the curious and tired faces of my companions.

"Hey wait," I said, lightly puffing, "The Tower of Babel was a feat of ancient humans daring to reach the height of God in heaven. Do you really think this is even close to the top? We must have just reached a point of rest for travelers. There must still be a ways to go…" Cartman groaned, rolling on to his back.

"Dammit, Kenny's probably right," Kyle swore, pushing back loose curling strands of scarlet hair. Stan's brow crinkled in thought.

"Then this resting area could be dangerous," Stan mumbled to himself. He pulled out his gun silently, checking the cartridge. "Stick close to me, okay?" he whispered to Kyle. The redhead looked up, determined eyes admiring his best friend.

Deciding not to focus on the mushy-love aura between those two, I walked down a few steps, calling out to Cartman. "Get up, Lardbutt! We need you, just in case—"

"Yeah, yeah!" he shouted. His overly loud attitude was something we were all use to. However, as his irate words bounced off the stony walls, it severed some sort of unknown tension hanging in the air. Hair was rising on the back of our necks. I noted Kyle rubbing his furiously from the corner of my eye. We all turned our heads this way and that, searching blindly in the gray and black Tower for something.

There came a reaction to Cartman's voice. In some unknown distance there came a tumultuous roar. Uneasy, I clasp on to the banister. The sound was shaking the very foundation of the Tower. Dust fell from the flooring and stairs above our heads, and swirled ominously in the mysterious wind. The obtrusive and ugly flames flickered wildly.

Kyle's spiteful tone rang out, "What the hell did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything!" Cartman yelled back.

The rumbling and the shaking was coming closer. That was when I realized whatever it was making this racket was probably on a crash course to our destination. It reminded me of something out of a nightmare. Cautiously, gripping the railing hard in my hands, I peered over the banister. Shadows were lurching and twisting around the several flights of stairs we just ascended. A boorish, blood colored light was swelling from the depths of the Tower.

"Fuck me with a spatula—" I breathed out. I spun back to my friends. "Run! Now!" With a burst of adrenaline, I sprinted up the steps, motioning for Cartman. "We have company coming!"

Cartman struggled to his feet, much like a blob of jello, and jumped up the steps two at a time. Stan grasped Kyle's arm, pushing him in front and through the doorway. We entered into a flat surface of a long corridor. Columns of black, icy statues of bricks and bodies and human arrogances decorated the way. As the thunderous rumbling made its way ever nearer, we panicked, looking around for the next flight of stairs.

"This place is impossible! How big is this bloody Tower?" I demanded, rushing past scattered building blocks.

"There, Ken!" Stan pointed. Through the decrepit scenery we hurried, casting fearful looks behind us. I followed the two lovers, past cobwebs, and low burning bonfires that lit the way unhelpfully. "See! A doorway!"

"Catch up, Cartman!" I hollered behind me. Amazing, Cartman kept to our pace (looking worse for the wear, of course).

"Screw you guys! I wanna go hooooome!" he answers.

"The only home you'll see is Heaven if you don't—" Kyle is cut off violently as he has a collision with Stan's backside for the second time in five minutes. He's halting, sneakers screeching at the effort, and as the torches in the doorway flare to life, I see why he's stopping.

A yawning chasm of several feet is between the stairway and us.

"Shit!" Stan curses. He scans quickly for some way across. There's a molding scaffolding scrap a yard or two from us. "Hurry! We'll build a bridge!" He and Kyle scramble, pulling it toward the stairs. I do my best to help lift it over the huge gap. Cartman's was still trying to find his second wind, leaning against a crumbling pillar.

By the time we have it secure enough, the brunet wondered over to us, nodding at our handiwork. Stan boldly tries it first, walking out to the middle, hugging the miraculously sturdy roping. "C'mon, Kyle!" he waves first. Tentatively, the Jew inches out, and the ancient wood creaks under the pressure. Stan has to ease closer to the stairs, but one hand is outstretched, ready to grab Kyle's once he is close enough.

Their hands entwine, almost sweetly, and while there is a moment where everyone breathes in relief, it is soon interrupted by an earth quaking bellow. Kyle starts, bumping into Stan's chest in fright. Precariously, the makeshift bridge is shifting, moving across the floor ever so slightly. Stan instantly surges forth, propelling Kyle into the secure landing of the staircase. His hand flies out to me next, "Hurry, Kenny!" he orders.

I'm starting forward, when that bloody light floods the back of the entire landing area. I pivot around, eyes widening at the sight of a giant being; fire without smoke. Blacker than sin and devilish looking. It's seething, powerful, and searching for us.

"Lord have mercy," Kyle gasps. I can only nod. It's evil head turns toward us, and a serpentine tongue flickers out. It's hoofed feet stomp, cracking the already rotting ground, moving in on the kill. It's knocking down columns, snorting, and snarling. The ground is unstable and I can't quite keep steady.

That was when the board snapped. A splintering crack! makes me jump in surprise. My head whipped back to Stan. There's a second of realization, then slow motion. He lunges toward the stairs, kicking off the scaffolding and reaching for purchase in the entrance to the doorway. Kyle falls to his knees, catching him, and falls backwards. I try to calm my heart, as Stan and Kyle, safe on the steps shakily raise to their feet a split second later. Shaking my head, I look back to Cartman. "We're going to have to—"

His cold, sure eyes meet mine. It makes me loose the will to speak. "Go on without me."

"What?"

"You heard me," he declares. I look from him to the hulking demonic thing bee lining to us.

I shake my head, "No, Cartman, we're all—"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry, you have others to save," he said, nodding stiffly behind me.

"Listen, I don't have time to argue!" I got in his face, doing my damnedest to intimidate him.

"Neither do I!" Cartman scoffed, and grabbed the back of my parka, hefting me up. He tossed me across the chasm, and I yelped, arms and legs flailing. Stan and Kyle caught me effortlessly. I wriggled to a standing position, stretching my arms behind me for the sword I brought. Evilly, Cartman saluted me with the gleaming blade. "You don't need this do you?" he rhetorically inquired.

"Cartman! You fool!" I screamed, throat hoarse. That monster was closing in on him.

"Kenny," Kyle begged next to my ear. He and Stan were holding me back. I ignore it. "Kenny, he's giving us time to outrun this thing."

"B-But he'll die!"

"He knows…" Stan said. Cartman was smirking in the darkness. He turned his overly broad back to us. He was a sight to be seen next to this monster from the darkest pits of the abyss. "He knows."

It was vain to wrestle with the super best friend pair. They dragged me up the steps, until eventually, I ran on my own. Angry and pathetic tears clouded my vision.

If you would have told that one day Cartman would sacrifice himself for the good of the world, for the betterment of Stan, Kyle, and my survival, I would have thought you were on crack. Then, if you told me that I would have felt this horrid, this guiltily, this unable to help save him, I would have told you check yourself into a padded white room… because you've lost it.

Or I've lost it.

It's probably the second one.

…

It had to be several thousand feet to the ground, I calculated, staring straight out from my resting spot. I was panting, rubbing at my stinging eyes by some crumbling opening meant to be a window. Outside this Tower was the curving, volcanic looking landscape. The sky was awash in melting grays and soft, tempting reds. Barren, rocky, and unforgiving—that's what it was. A lonesome sort of hell, I thought. The wind was simply mean; cutting through me, chilling me to my rattling bones. Long fingers gripped my shoulder when I sniffled none too quietly.

I kept telling myself it was the thinning air and cold atmosphere we drew closer to with every rickety stone step. I shouldered the comforting hand off, turning away from the morbid scenery.

"How far from the top do you think we are?" I asked. Kyle's green eyes wavered in the poisonous mood lighting around us. He reached out again, and I dodged effortlessly.

"Kenny, it's not—" he tried but I shook my head.

"I'm fine," I declared, and even to me it sounded sketchy. Stan lingered a few steps below us, looking back and forth. I avoided his eyes as well. "Cartman made his choice, and I shall not waste my breath sobbing for his stupidity."

"Even so," the raven said, galloping over scattered remains of buttresses, "He left you weaponless."

"I don't need one, I can heal," I said. Kyle and Stan shared a furtive dubious look. I waited a space of a heartbeat, but neither one made the move to correct my logic. Perhaps if I ignored my forced mortality, it would not be so much of a curse, as a blessing. Slowly, I understood what it meant to be powerless. Strangely, this is something I am not use to. Ever since I was a child… I could always fix myself, save the day… Save the people I care most about.

I don't even like Cartman, but I was starting to truly come to terms with the situation.

"We need to keep moving. Butters is in more danger the longer we chat," I spat. I was climbing, breathing out through my mouth heavily. I heard the sighs of exhaustion behind me following.

"Hasn't it been a lot longer since the last time?" Stan whined.

"Well, when we reached the last rest stop, we weren't tired. Plus, I wouldn't trust time that exists outside of time and space…" Kyle replied. I was marching forward, barely listening to the conversation.

Not that I had to worry much, the last word uttered was, "True…"

The continuing trek was an eerie, penetrating silence that seemed to want to smother us all to oblivion. It was like the air around us grew thicker, visible. Drifting and wafting…

Sadly, it took me a few flights to realize the air in front of my face was shivering. There was a smoky haze, wafting down from an open archway this time. In my dreaded, descriptive musings, I didn't anticipate a doorway to the resting-area before it was almost upon us. My hole-filled-Converses squeaked to a stop, and soon, I was flanked by the Super Best Friends.

The three of us stood on a single step, gazing into the dark, smoky interior with a pervasive yearning, yet ever present wariness. I gulped, watching the dusty opal haze eek out, enticing us to enter the impressive second level. There wasn't much movement for a moment, and in fact, I felt almost too lazy to speak. The thought of opening my mouth was hard enough to let float in my brain; suffice to say it took more the all of my willpower to actually move my tongue into the correct positions to develop English words.

"What now?" I asked, sounding sluggish.

Kyle barely shrugged.

Stan was just blinking into the unknown.

"… Keep moving," I demanded, and my lips twitched at the force of the words. I pushed through the haze, which hit less like airy tendrils and more like steel bars—rusted, but nonetheless, thick and solid when you hit them.

The redhead grasped the back of my jacket, tailgating me, and perhaps using me like a shield or sled dog. Stan profoundly closed his eyes, and broke forward, easily slicing through the misty door before I could reach it. I followed his silhouette unquestioningly, and gratefully.

It wasn't dark, simply, hard to see past the opium ambiance. How Stan weaved past structural pillars, and stepped over cascades of debris was beyond me. He never seemed to open his eyes. Truth be told, it was pretty cool. Awesomely cool, even.

"How can you be doing this…?" I asked, moving my mouth precisely, almost coughing out the words so that they would come out.

"I can feel a presence in this room," he responded. If I had the strength, I would have frowned.

"Where?" I managed to inquire. My head would not allow me the ability to move it around and look, and a few minutes later, I was finally aware that I would not be able to see anyone in such an oppressive cloud anyway. The odd shimmering air would not even allow me build fear at the prospect of my slowly failing mental capabilities.

"Just be quiet," he said. It wasn't hard. My mouth sealed itself, almost in relief.

I felt like I was wading through mud. Lifting my legs, bending my knees… all of it was troublesome, cumbersome… just so unbelievably difficult. My steps became smaller and smaller. Eventually, I became conscious to the fact I was merely standing in, what seemed to me, a shifting and dragging puddle of vapor.

Soon, the core of my body was feeling tired. My right knee shook with the effort of staying straight. Then my left was quaking. I felt my spine slacken. Have you ever seen a bag of flour suddenly give way to the power of gravity? It sort of slumps to the side, then, in tiny movements, folds under itself and just crashes down, and then the kitchen floor is then just covered (every tiny nook and cranny) in soft white powder… Yeah, that's what was happening to me.

I forgot I was me for a second. I just kept thinking, Man, I'm about to spill over any second now! Well, however many seconds later happened, and I collapsed in on myself. I thought I was going to burst my seams, and blood and guts would come out of me like I was a sack of flour (as I mentioned before).

Lucky for me, there was a cautious, watchful arm that literally appeared from the haziness, wounding over my shoulders. I blinked, and blinked, and blinked. How my eyes were still open, I'm not very positive about the reason. I was so out of it; I honestly think I couldn't find the strength to flutter my lids. My baby blues were staring straight out into the white haze of oblivion, like the blind or the dead. It was an experience very outside one's own idea of mind and body. My head barely tilted up, and I recognized dark strands of hair arranged around bold blue eyes that matched a bold blue hat. My lips parted to make a name that I couldn't quite remember.

I saw a slight body tossed over one of his shoulders, and the bright fire colored head caught my attention. "Kenny," his voice was sure of itself. It sounded odd to the uncanny nothingness about me. This noise that was my name seemed an entirely alien thing to me.

"Stan…" I responded, more out of muscle memory than anything. His mouth quirked up—smile, he is smiling—and he gave a sharp nod.

"I'm leading you to the way out," he said. Those words made no sense, none at all. I was struggling to comprehend them. First, there were concepts of self and removed self (I'm and you). Then something about being in one state and then another (out versus in… but what the hell was in, exactly?). Last, I couldn't figure out what the other was doing (leading? Why?).

For some reason, I nodded anyway. Really, I was just copying an action he made, then forgot I nodded at all. He slung his arm under mine and heaved me up. We tottered our way across a vast expanse of numbing and odorless opaque smog. It felt like I should have been absorbed into it.

As we moved onward though, I was able to feel my pinky toe again, and then, my big toe, and my foot, and it shocked me all the way up to my shin and knee. I nearly hung off of Stan—my good childhood friend!—and without compliant, he heaved my ass through the murky second level. We were nearing a door when the ground under our legs—I have legs! These fuckers are amazing! Look! Look! I'm fucking walking!—quivered. I lurched up to a standing position, feeling more sober than I could remember in the last few minutes. "What the hell…?" I questioned. My fingers were gripping the collar on Stan's sweaty t-shirt. Stan glanced over. I vaguely wondered when he opened his eyes. The last I had seen, he was gallivanting about like a blind man.

"Back to your senses, yet?" he asked. I scrunched my brows, unwilling to inhale the air around us. It seemed to dance, grabbing and pulling at all of my sore limbs. Did I fall back there?

"I guess…" I said, uncertain. Stan pulled me, and I wrenched myself free of the vaporous hold my body, albeit much more ungracefully than he. "What is with this smoke?"

"It's not smoke," he answered shrewdly, "But an entity. It's as alive as you or me, and hopefully, Kyle."

"Kyle?" I inquired. I caught a glimpse of my other friend—Oh! Kyle!—draped on his back. There was a gash running across his brow and down to his cheek, creating a slice in his eyebrow. He was out cold.

"His physical pain was enough to snap the hold it had on me. With skin-to-skin contact, I'm able to distinguish myself from it, and you from it—and navigate the dead space around its essence…" he explained.

I tried to wrap my head around the idea, and all I could come up with was, "Like how a bat can 'see' with sonar?"

"Basically," he grunted.

"But, being in the middle of this creature—"

"Entity."

"Fine, entity… shouldn't you be the most susceptible to it's allure?"

"I am; that's how I know what it wants," he said. I turned to him as the looming door made its way steadily closer. He knew I didn't want to ask… but I had to know. "It wants to ensnare people… feeding off people's life force. In a way, this thing is vampire entirely."

"Cloud-Vampire? Seriously? Like the Star Trek: TOS Episode?" I said. Stan shrugged.

"I don't make the empathy-vampire rules," he said, "I just explain them."

"And you did a crap job!" I accused. I felt a headache coming on. If this smoke was an actual being of some kind and wanted to feed off of people… then how could we get it to leave us alone? Aside from Butters at the peak, we three were the only living creatures it could drain energy from.

Of course, as I was debating our options, (internally mind you) Stan laughed at me in an almost self-deprecating way. I glanced up, somewhat confused, before I recalled he could probably sense, or hear, or feel my turbulent emotions and whatnot.

"Listen, Ken," he said and I felt the need to snap back with No, you listen, bitch! I didn't get to snap back, but I saw my response flashing across his face like he had been stung by some kind of frightful insect. "Kyle's seriously hurt, we can't leave him defenseless in this dense cloud of hate."

"Obviously," I commented. My foot scraped across a stone, and I looked down, panicked for a pure second, thinking I was about to tumble into a gorge. However, our threesome had just reached the doorway to another set of spiraling staircases. It surprised me, because I hadn't noticed our creeping closeness to the door. Stan, aside from experiencing my own reactions, seemed more knowledgeable. It should have been unsettling, but I had a far worse suspicion cropping up.

"Lilith is after you," he said, shifting Kyle's dead weight into my chest. Instinctively, I cradled his body. He was not as light as you would expect, but then again, I was still dealing with another man here.

"I know that, but I don't know—"

"You can't fight this thing," he said loudly, certain. I growled, lifting the unconscious Jew bridal style. My arms wanted to protest, but I would have none of it.

"Why does no one let me get to finish my thoughts?" I hissed. Stan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his revolver, checking the safety. My brows rose up, and I scanned the area around us. "How are you gonna fight this entity if its nothing more than haze?"

"I'm not fighting… well, not in the conventional sense," he admitted. I wanted to say more but Stan leaned down, running his hands through tangled red curls. He wiped the trickling, sticky rivets of blood away from closed green eyes. There was a second where he paused. I'm not an empath, so I cannot imagine what he was feeling, what he desired, in that exact moment, but when he looked back up to me, he was prepared. "Get him as far away as you can in the next minute. Take him with you. Don't leave him… okay?"

"I…" my mouth was dry. I felt oddly humbled.

"You have to promise me, Kenny!" Stan demanded. I backed up, onto a step and nodded fiercely. This time, my mouth didn't want to work, simply because I couldn't find any words in it. His expression softened, and he took a shuddering breath. "Okay… Okay. Keep running. Don't stop, no matter what you hear."

"Okay…" I slipped out in a dumb whimper. I wish I could say that in the last few seconds I had with Stan, I had said something of consequence, something unfathomably epic and heroic. I wish I had been braver. That guy was my eyes for a while, remember? He was the one who had this unquestioned leadership, and I admired that quality about him. Stan… he knew sacrifice, and it was scary, right then.

I won't lie, I won't hide behind some lame excuse like, "I had a promise to keep" because I didn't. I couldn't make his stupid promises. The failing truth was, I had no intention of arguing with him… I knew he had to stay behind. I knew he would have to keep that vampiric entity distracted. I hated it—I loathed it. It was such a depressingly beautiful trap she laid out before me.

Systematically, she was going to pluck every good, commendable thing from my world.

I couldn't do anything… except run away.

The thing that I despised more than Lilith, more than my ineptitude, more than finding myself alone, more than the gunshot echoing to me as I ran with hiccupping intakes of painful air up the staircase, was the fact that Stan had to wallow in my emotions along with me. It wasn't fair to him…

Then, in all honesty, he would argue, that it wasn't my fault.

Which everyone knows that the above statement is a blatant lie.

…

I can't say how long I ascended those God-awful limestone steps that were dirtier than sin. I can just say that eventually, my adrenaline was teetering out like a cut fuel line… my stamina had taken a serious shot, and I was trudging on before I tripped on a loose shoelace that snapped under my cruddy soles. My knee banged the flooring, and I felt the stone crack, giving in due to age. I maneuvered around it, and perched closer to a wall, under a sconce of putrid flames.

I was huffing, rocking Kyle in my arms lightly, and filling my lungs with ages-old oxygen reluctantly. Incredibly, I was unaware that in my slightly shocked state, I was softly muttering something. It wasn't until I stumbled over my words, searching for the right thing to hum, that I noticed it.

I bit my lip, looking down to the dozing Kyle. Somehow, I propped him up onto the wall, just a step above me. I yanked at the bottom of my shirt, ripping it to tatters. From there I bundled it up carefully, and used that to mop up congealed blood, and if I was lucky, sweat and not tears. This time, I would acknowledge I was crying and sniffling like a baby.

"C'mon, Ky…" I said, "C'mon… wake up."

The action of sweeping the ragged remnants of my shirt over his face was soothing more for me than the unconscious Kyle. I felt myself becoming calm as he looked less damaged. He was merely resting, I tried to tell my brain that screamed evil things like, "Coma! Trauma! Brain Impairment!"

"How can I get your lazy ass up?" I asked with a wavering tone. I folded the disgusting and stained bundle in my hands to a clean portion, and repeated the sweeping process. Thinking to myself, I tried to visualize the nasty gash healing, sewing itself up, and disappearing into flawless, unblemished skin.

As this image replayed in my mind like a broken record, I started to sing pieces of something I vaguely remembered. Something so pretty… but so lonely.

"Your silence makes me hurt…"

Kyle's brow twitched under the cloth. My hand was trembling, and I knew my face was streaked with heartache. It was unbearable. I didn't want this friend injured so violently. He was clasping onto me while we wandered aimlessly in that hellish smog… I have no idea when he fell…

I wasn't going to let him fall into a shadowy sleep now. I had to wake him up. I kept thinking that, focusing on erasing that terrible cut. Every time my hand pulled back, I could see less and less of that horrid disfigurement.

"I know it destined to go wrong… you were looking for the great escape to chase your demons away…"

It was such a sweet melody, a delectably sweet melancholy…

Kyle made a noise, his face turning away, out of my reach. I simply reached in the extra length and went about cleaning his wound. As I sang out, making sure I was projecting my sorrow and relentless remorse, he relaxed against the cool marble walls. He sighed…

A few more swipes and I pulled back… "Here I am… left alone…Siiiiiiilee…ence…"

Kyle's lids fluttered open; those bright green eyes as intelligent and determined as ever. Astounded I sat back on my hunches, staring at the blank, unworn flesh on his forehead and cheekbone. I would have reached out to touch it to be sure, but I was unwilling to jinx it.

"I-I'm so sorry…" I said, voice cracking. Kyle's eyes swiveled, taking in our surroundings. Or aloneness. The bloody mess of my shirt. The fatigue in my heart. Wordlessly, I saw the realization reach his entire body. He seemed to stiffen for a fraction of a second. All too fast, he went lax again.

"All is forgiven…" he said.

He never batted an eyelash. Didn't cry. He took a minute, sitting there, leaning on the wall. Then, he stood up, unshaken, offering me a hand like the good friend he was. I was speechless, just staring at him from my lowly position on the floor. Kyle looked as healthy as could be, a bit dusty, but otherwise, full of vitality like the spry teenager he is. I tried to hold back my watering gaze from his.

"Not all tears are in vain," he whispered. I grabbed his hands, and the resounding clap of our palms meeting startled the otherwise quiet and grim world about us. He tugged me onto my feet. I stood for a moment, weeping without words.

How Kyle could understand baffled me, but at the same time, I found it grounded me. The reality of my unreality was very much settling into my flesh, burning me down to the soul. I…

I had to continue on.

So, this time, although in a deliberate pace, we made our way up the staircase. One foot in front of the other. I was not rushing to my doom. Kyle was beside me, lost in his mind, or in grief, or with simply nothing on his mind to talk about. I pray it was the last one. We both knew there was no longer a time to feel guilty. We had to get to the top. That was our priority. Yet… the silence.

The human condition fears silence—I fear silence. I can't deny this. When there is silence, between two people, or in nature; it makes us uneasy. That's why when in horror movies, we become on edge when there is no longer background noise. There should always be noise. Not only in life, but also in our minds. We're never quiet, never silent, at least, not really, ya know?

But, this unspoken journey between Kyle and me, to whatever waited over our very heads… this was not silent either. That wind that would not leave us be, that followed too closely, too coyly, was still whistling away, and I'm convinced laughter was in the air… but I could not find it as horrifying as before. Not when I had the means to change it.

"I'm tired," I mentioned. Tired was an understatement. I was weary to my marrow.

"I know," Kyle said. We were still walking up and up and up and up and up…

"I don't think I can do this," I confessed. I spared a glance to my friend. He was staring at his feet, taking care not to falter on the staircase. Kyle was always careful like that.

"I know… I know," he said. He raised his head, glancing at the daunting stairs above us this time. "But… it's like those great stories you hear, Kenny."

"Stories?" I parroted, unable to do much else beside cast my eyes to the bursts of flames, to open windows that showcased the black and diabolic looking spires of mountains, to the holes of fallen bricks and clumsily shaped windows…

"The stories you heard when you were a child… The ones that stayed with you, even though you were too young to understand why. You see, Ken, those were the stories where the heroes had lots of chances to go back, only… they didn't. No matter the danger, they kept going. You always wondered how, how could they, after they had seen so much bad? Then, you realized they knew something you didn't…"

From the whistling wind, and with tired eyes, I looked back to him. "And what do they know, Kyle?"

"There's still some good in this world," he said, squeezing my cursed hand, "And its worth fighting for."

I felt myself smile, and flashes rushed to my mind of Cartman, battling the hulk of a demon somewhere in the pits of this despicable place, of Stan undeterred as he dared that entity feed off of his pained body, and of Butters, locked in a cage, and defiantly clutching the bars, hoping for rescue with all of his naïve little heart.

I gave Kyle a nod in response.

It seemed like I should have known that all on my own.

…

"What do you think waits before us now?" Kyle questioned, glowering into the darkened doorway of the third resting area. We stood at the step before it, studying the curling scratches up the marble columns. The redhead reached out to touch it in curiosity, but my arm flew out, blocking him.

"The danger has increased every time we reach another resting-area…" I warn, eyes sweeping the languid shapes and shadowy distance in front of us, "We can't touch anything, and we have to be hyperaware of what's around us, understood?" I glance to the side, and Kyle quickly meets my eyes. He gulps, but gives me a nod. The bat he carried before is unhooked from his belt loop easily, and he clutches it. I drop my arm, finding it hard to not crouch as I enter the third flat level of the Tower of Babel.

The instant we were inside the area, I felt a coldness sink in through the pores of my skin. It was like being dipped in an ice bath. I gasped, finding that the very air seemed to burn like an artic breeze all the way to my lungs. Shivering, I folded my arms over my chest trying to sooth the goosebumps cropping up all over my body.

"Feels like we stepped into a freezer!" the genius at my back exclaimed through chattering teeth.

"Y-Yeah…" I said. We hadn't made it very far inside, and I waited for the explosion of sickly green flames with every inching step I took. Of course, it took several alarming feet into the wintry darkness before I noticed that the lights behind us were fading, and no new light was going to be given to us. I halted to a stop, spinning around, and bumping into Kyle. "We have to go back."

"What? We can't go back," he declared, pushing me off of him.

"No, Kyle, I mean we have to grab a torch or something," I explained, barely seeing the puffs of my breath hovering before my face. In the dim light, the glint of his steel bat was pale… proof of how far we had already made it inside the rest area.

"You're right," he agreed, and his footsteps sounded louder than they should have been. Either the echo was spectacular in this room, or, more presumably, my other senses had immediately heightened due to lack of eyesight. "Let's hurry though. I got a bad feeling about th—"

He was cut off by the sound of stone scraping stone. Both of us jumped, and one of us (probably me) might have yelped in surprise. My eyes shot to the last flickering light of flame from the staircase we had just climbed. A thud resounded, menacing, as the light was swiftly snuffed out.

In the pitch black dark, I felt a sweat break out despite the freezing wind that swept over us.

"What was that…?" Kyle stupidly asked. His voice was so quiet, like he was drifting away of a sea of darkness. For a moment, fright of being left completely alone in the swimming blackness shot through me, gluing my feet to the floor. I had to shake it off though. My hand darted out to where I had heard that tiny question, and approximately where I had last seen Kyle to be. My clammy palm made immediate contact with a slim chest. "Ow! Kenny!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" I apologized. I fumbled in the dark, clasping onto his arm. "Just don't let go of me. We have to make it out of here together."

"Agreed," the Jew declared, and he clutched on tight. "Do you think it's just this level that's without light, or will the rest of the way be in total dark?"

My stomach lurched at the idea of trying to navigate the rest of the perilous way to the very top of this ghastly tower. Just the thought of not knowing, stumbling up steps and into more levels…! If the steps were even where they were supposed to be. What if I tumbled off an edge? Fell through a hole? I could be followed, surrounded, or ambushed by something vile and never know it was coming. In fact, all I would ever know would be this dark and this cold that permeated around me.

It was a fucking scary thought.

I had to breathe, had to shut up all those pesky little thoughts. And let me tell you, it sounds so much easier than it was. I was on the verge of mass hysterics. In the kind of sinister shadows I was surrounded by—smack dab in the wilderness, midnight black kind of darkness—it was hard to control the urge to start running wildly, screeching like some sort of deranged psycho. You just didn't want to be in it. I was claustrophobic in that black place. It was awful, and fucked up, and I knew that my enemy was simply waiting for me to lose it.

So, I had no choice but to reign in my instincts, and confidently tell Kyle, "I don't know. But we have to keep moving forward." Meanwhile I thought, Wherever the hell forward is.

Using his bat like a cane, Kyle swept the ground, and we shuffled onward with the grace of a one legged bear on a unicycle. Several times I expected to plummet to my doom, or smash my head on a support pillar, or become separated from Kyle and a monster lurking somewhere would swallow one or both of us whole. I shuddered, thankful for the tiny amount of body heat generated between the two of us. Freezing to death in this place was also a constant concern.

Lost in my worries, I hadn't noticed the continued clacking of metal on stone, until Kyle spoke up. "I think we ran into a wall."

"A wall?" I repeated, hopeful. I wall might mean a doorway nearby.

"I think…"

We both moved closer and touched the obstacle in front of us. With fluttering hands as far we could reach while still attached, we searched, fingertips numbing from the cold. I pulled back, tapping my fingers together. The wall felt… strange. That's the only word that kept popping up.

"My fingers feel weird," I said, tapping my digits together. They stuck, and then they released lazily, "What about yours?"

"Can't feel them no more…" Kyle mumbled. I stepped back slightly, narrowing my eyes. I couldn't see anything. Not a damn thing. I might as well have been walking about with my eyes stapled closed. Still… I hoped I might have been able to notice something. A sigh rumbled beside me. "Well, it's definitely a wall."

"Okay… But which wall? A back wall? A side wall?" I inquired. The warm arm wrapped around mine trembled.

"That's the problem. We won't know unless we split up…"

"Whoa! What?" I exclaimed, and tugged Kyle closer, "What are you talking about? We're not letting go of each other!"

"If we don't, we'll be stuck bumbling about this insipidly large room looking for a door we might miss!" my companion barked. He yanked away, but I stubbornly clung on.

"Kyle, I'm serious!" I pleaded like a child, "I can't wander in the dark, alone." A snort of amusement floated past me, but I ignored it. "Please?" I was trying, pushing with all my luck.

"C'mon you big baby," he said, "It's only the dark."

"But it might not be…" I whispered, desperately.

"You'll be fine," he said, too boisterous for my taste. Finally, he slipped from my grip. I tried to reach for him, but I heard him skittering away into the suffocating dark. I slapped my hands on the walls, feeling a chill rush through me like an electrical shock. "Now search the opposite way! Call me if you find the door!"

He voice had disappeared from me. If I wasn't digging my nails into the wall, I could have sworn I might have been dissolving into the shadows as well. The only way to relocate Kyle was to find a door; otherwise, I'd probably chase him all around the blasted room.

Knowing my luck, the door was probably right beside me.

Of course, as I skirted the wall carefully for a few feet, I was disheartened to find out the door was not right beside me. Still, I was dumbly sliding along, fumbling up and down, and feeling a hiccup of panic welling into my throat.

I do not know if it dread, or loss of the sense of time, or what… but I was getting tired, and every move sideways was only succeeding in making me more distressed. I just kept thinking, What if we're locked in here? In the dark… Forever?

So yes… I was not very put together. Somehow, I stopped paying attention to what I was doing (which is not helpful because it was suppose to keep me calm). I hadn't realized that my hand slipped off the wall. I careened into darkness. My feet tripped all over themselves, and I went tumbling headfirst. I smacked into an inclined, irregular plane. Leaping to my feet, I raced up the plane, before tumbling again in my blind hurry.

However, when I went down this second time, a flash of irritating emerald bout of light blinded me. Warmth flared up around me, stunning my previously frosted body. It took more minutes than I am comfortable admitting, but I laid on the dingy, stone steps of the staircase that lead upwards to the peak of the tower. My mind blanked for a second while my heart skipped a few beats, before I realized where I was. Not in the enclosing, stifling, velvet dark of that awful third resting area… but on the next set of stairs.

See?

I told you it was my luck that I'd find the damn door.

I just had to go back to get Kyle now.

Hopping down the steps, two to several at a time, I grinned raucously. Out of breath, but still bouncing, I rested heavily on the doorjamb, screaming, "I found it! I found it!"

"Really?" Kyle's excited voice reverberated back. "Excellent! I'm coming!"

"Well, hurry up!" I called, actually stepping into the third level. Just the tips of my shoes poked in. However, when that small action occurred, it set off some sort of chain reaction. Next thing I knew, hundred of torches lit up, flames leaping energetically. I lifted my hand up to my eyes… and was startled by a chorus of hissing.

Now, this next scene is not for the faint of heart.

Do you recall when I felt that oddness on the wall? Yeah… in that very instant I found out what, exactly, I was touching oh-so casually. It was hundreds, thousands, of web-like stretched pieces of human skin, blood, and muscle. Startled, I had jumped back at a waft of decay. It hit me bad; choking me and clogging up my nostrils. I looked down to my hands, seeing spongy stuff and brown clots littered across my palms.

I tried scrubbing my hands on my jacket, swallowing back my vomit. I made a move forward, but shrieked when something bounded down from the ceiling like a yo-yo. It was a cadaver. Twisted and mangled, bloated, face awash, and hissing with rheumy eyes. It reminded me of a human spider—arms and legs bent, and mouth open. What gave me the courage to punch it square in its flared nostrils was more adrenaline than anything else. Fight or flight instinct. In that moment, I fought it off. The skin squished under my knuckles, and the bridge of the nose cracked, and it made a painful snarl when it reared back. This time I kicked it, snapping it's neck, and it broke off from a netting of tendons and other corpses, rolling along the floor brokenly.

"Kyle!" I screamed, about to rush in.

"Kenny!" he called back. I spotted him off to the side swinging away at other descending, gruesome things. He bashed what looked like a Dr. Frankenstein example of Siamese twins straight down the middle. It split the pocketed seam of flesh stitched together haphazardly. "I'm fine! Go on without me! I'll catch up!"

"What? I can't!" I protested. These things were swarming around the redhead. Like a madman, he wielded that bat, striking without mercy at the nearest zombie-like thing advancing on him.

"Listen!" he huffed, without sparing me a single glance, he was too focused surviving. I saw a dark thing crop up over his shoulder, spittle flying.

"Behind you!" I pointed, and gasping, he spun with all his body weight. He cracked that monstrous thing right at the junction where neck meets shoulder. The head popped off cleanly, spewing brackish blood in its wake. In that mist, he took the chance to dart away. "That's right! Keep moving!"

"Mother fucker!" he was panting, finally looking over to me sadly. I found it hard to keep his overtly intelligent gaze. "You have go, Kenny… The next stop has to be the tower's summit. You have to face her alone."

"No…" I breathed. I wanted to argue, but suddenly, a thing sliding on the floor grabbed Kyle's ankle. He kicked it off with his other foot, and then slammed his bat down on the apex of its skull. He sent me one last glance, before racing down into the expanse, and a flood of eerie spidery human corpses followed him.

"Good luck!" were the last words he spoke to me.

…

My friends were all gone.

Each and every one of them… I lost them because—

Actually, I can't really say how or why I lost them. In one moment we all stood together, grinning, pressing forward… and in the other…?

First, Cartman fell behind.

Then, Stan joined him, sacrificing himself.

And, Kyle… Kyle knew he would suffer their same fate.

All three of them, somewhere in the depths below the decimated limestone and onyx and marble, they were fighting… right under my feet… my weary, weary feet.

They fought—no, they are fighting… at this very second, not yet dead, please not yet dead—for me. Me. How could I have let them face such horrors alone? How can I still call myself their friend? How can I keep moving when I feel like I'm about to crumble like this god-forsaken tower?

I'm cradling my face in my hands, barely raising my legs as I walk up and up and up… and up for what has to be my unholy eternity. In this wretched place, I have sent my friends to what could only be their doom. The crazy she-demon who wallows in ecstasy at my shattering mind has captured the innocent youth I dared to fall for. I have killed violently. I have been mutilated.

I have been cursed to die… to never see the soft sunshine, feel the cool rain, hear a pleased lover's sigh, smell the scent of the fresh mountain air… or even to touch my lips against the ripe raspberry ones I dream about on the nights when I can remember my slumber-fantasies.

"And for what, Lilith?" I inquire caustically. That wild wind snaps against me through the lightening-burned ruins of stones. It still smolders as I emerge into the toppling, unfinished precipices. The stairs still twine dizzyingly into the bloody skyline that curves ominously around this stunted limbo. Her cackle that I am becoming familiar with is echoing, dancing about me.

My eyes trace up the stairway. Walls no longer enclose me, but the stones still bunch together, leading up to the summit, mysteriously without support. There are crashing waves, butting against the cliff the tower sits upon. My eyes widen when I realize, the Tower of Babel is an island, floating upon a treacherous gray sea that means to strike the volcanic landscape into nothingness.

"I see… So God not only created the many tongues of the world…" I hummed in a sort of grim bemusement, "But He sent the Tower to a plane where it would be remain untouched, withering away slowly, but surely."

"Yes…" a sultry voice answered. My head turned… I saw her in her magnificent glory.

She was seducing me, but perhaps that was her natural way of interacting. Through that gossamer gown, she was the epitome of female beauty… with soft curves, tall, and wanton. Her sharp face was framed by those waving locks that were too much like fire, like blood. With such a pale hand, she reached out to me, offering to help me up the last few feet. I did not move from my spot, my right leg paused on the step above me. The only thing that moved was our rustling clothes in the precarious torrents of wind at the height of the Tower.

"Why?" I demanded, hands clenched into fists.

"I believe that Yahweh has a soft spot for His creations," she purred smoothly, glancing down at the tower's vast expanse, "And by proxy, their creations."

"No," I said loudly. Her eyes—the eyes of a predator—flew back to me. I lifted my chin, arrogant. "Why me? What made you choose me?"

"That is what all ask in these times…" she murmured, and her enigmatic smile faded. She stepped down, closer to me. "Why me?" From her wafting skirt, the flash of scarred, yellow talons clacked against the stone pathway. Paralyzed, I held my breath. "Is that really all you have to ask?" that lovely smoky voice was gone, and only steel and hatred were left.

"Where's Butters?" I yelled, fierce, even though I knew quite well I was weaponless.

"Hmm? The young boy?" she questioned, smirking too widely, her teeth glinting.

"Kenny!"

His sweet voice drifted down to me, and I bolted past the wicked creature, disregarding her chuckle. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as I rounded the last corner, shouting, "I'm coming! I'm here—"

When I burst past the tar colored arch of the Tower's summit, my feet skidded over the uneven stone flooring. With flailing arms, I caught myself across iron bars of what looked like a rusting birdcage. Shackled, Butters was gripping the bolted doors. I shook at his imprisonment. When my flesh met the frozen iron, my palms sizzled, burning—and the mark on my hand flared bright. I hissed, pulling away.

"Kenny! You shouldn't have—"

"Shut up," I said between the painful gasps playfully, "Of course I'd come to get you."

"N-No, you don't understand!" he said, tears welling in his pretty blue eyes.

"You saved me once, remember? Don't I owe you one?" I teased. Butters shook his cornsilk head, obviously frustrated.

"No! Kenny, you're—" those same pretty eyes instantly turned into the size of saucers, and I suddenly felt pointed nails scratch my throat as a graceful hand encircled the front of my neck.

"Right where I want you…" Lilith whispered hotly into the shell of my ear. Butters whimpered for me. I felt stunned, all sensation flushing out of my body when I realized that this entire journey was a grave mistake. The greatest epic fail of my life.

"This was all a trap…!"

TBC…

A/N: Feel free to skip this part, I'm just blowing off some steam.

I wasn't gonna upload this until chapter 15 would be finished. But I just couldn't help it. You've guys have waited too long, ya know? Speaking of…

Oh em gee! How many years has it been since I updated this fic? Three? Yeah, I'm sorry it's been so long. Would you believe SAI actually had computer troubles each year? My computers—for some reason—like to f***ing die all the time. I almost lost a lot of fics, not to mention stories I had planned to publish.

Also, let it be noted the year of 2011 was the most stressful of my life. Family members going in and out of hospitals numerous times, two deaths, three engagements, a wedding, babies, divorces, graduations, car accidents, two moves across country… plus restraining orders and criminals (thefts and drugs—none by me… just around me, sadly). I won't even mention jobs and schools…

Ya know, my mother actually asked me the other day, "You still do fanfiction?"

"Yeah… Why?"

"Oh, just wondering when you're gonna sell out [in reference to writing cheap romance novels] and make some money so you can pay rent."

… Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah. It's been tough.

Wonder if that was reflected in my recent chapter?

Eh, probably. The chapter is roughly 25 pages long. That's the longest for any fic or oneshot I have ever written (however, for my own personal stories and for manuscripts, I have some material that would be closer to 200-300 pages).

WELL! That being said… drop me a review about the random epicness, and soon, the last chappie will be updated before you know it! It really helps right now. So! Until next time…

Please, never lose hope and Stand Your Ground [Within Temptation is the band to listen to during this Tolkien-inspired chapter].

—SteelAgainstIvory