A/N: This is a bit different than my usual fare, but it's a story that I've wanted to write for a while. It's somewhat AU in that the version of the afterlife Kenny visits here is different than the one in the show and movie; and it's mostly a tragedy, but a small handful of people get sort of a happy ending. There's also a lot of angst, graphic depictions of violence, and major character deaths (lots of them). So…trigger warnings?

Cover image by Timeless-Knight, used with permission and there's a link to the full size picture on my profile page.

Enjoy…

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

.

One moment the South Park High senior class was enjoying an awesome field trip and having the time of their lives, and then on the long bus ride home, Ms. Crabtree turned around to yell at Craig Tucker to "Sit down and shut up!"

During the few moments she was distracted, she steered the bus into a curve much too quickly and sent it careening off the interstate and through a steel guardrail with a horrendous crash and into the air above a seventy-foot-high embankment.

There was complete silence once the bus was airborne, falling nose first in a graceful arc toward the bottom of the embankment. Time froze, and Kenny looked toward the front of the bus at the ground below silently rushing up to meet the windshield. His own instincts kicked in immediately. Relax. This is going to be a bad one, but it's only going to hurt for a second.

Then he remembered that he wasn't alone this time, and that most of his friends and classmates were on the bus with him.

Someone behind him finally screamed, and that seemed to unleash complete bedlam.

He spared a moment to look across the other side of the bus at Stan and Kyle. They'd had a moment to brace their hands against the back of the seat in front of them and start screaming, but not enough time to even think about reaching out to comfort each other, and in Kenny's last split second of thought and comprehension, he wished that those two could have had another few moments together. Then the bus smashed nose first into the ground seventy feet below the highway. As always during a violent death, Kenny had a second to marvel at how the fucking sounds were always the worst part.

Every seat on the bus ripped loose from the floor and rocketed forward, crushing legs and burying two dozen twelfth graders under hundreds of pounds of wreckage and bodies. Kenny was decapitated as the mass of people and broken seats behind him crushed his body and tore his head from his shoulders and sent it tumbling toward the front of the bus, which miraculously landed upright as its rear tires plummeted to the ground, bouncing once before coming to rest a moment later.

Kenny sat up immediately and looked around, floating a few inches above the wreckage where his body had come to rest. He looked down at his own hands, faintly transparent and glowing from within as they always did right after he died. He could see his own corpse in the wreckage below through his fingers, a pool of blood growing larger where his head used to be.

Stan was dead before the bus came to a stop. Kenny spotted him drifting just beneath the ceiling of the bus, gazing in wonder at (and through) his own hands and the wreckage beneath him. He looked up and their eyes met.

"Kenny?" His voice was a heartbreaking combination of panic and resignation. "Am I…?"

They almost always asked, even when the answer was obvious. Kenny moved closer, nodding his head. "Yeah, Stan." Kenny had hoped he would never have to answer this question for any of his best friends, at least not for a very long time and not under these circumstances. "You're dead."

Stan nodded, still looking around in wonder. He was accepting this very quickly, and Kenny was grateful for that. He knew what Stan's next question would be even before he asked it.

"Kyle?"

Kenny shook his head and looked down. This was going to be hard. "No Stan…not yet."

Stan followed his gaze toward the wreckage below. Kyle was lying half-buried in broken seats beside Stan's corpse, the bottom half of his body crushed beneath the wreckage, shuddering and trying to draw in a breath to scream through a shattered jaw and a mouthful of broken teeth.

"Kyle!" Stan cried, and Kenny moved quickly to intercept him.

"No, Stan…I'll go, okay?" Stan wouldn't begin to know what to do, or what to say. "You stay here and…and just keep processing this, okay?" He winced at that word: Process. It was a term Kenny had taken awhile to settle on to describe what people who think they've never died before go through when facing a sudden and unexpected death.

Stan nodded reluctantly, and Kenny drifted downward until he was crouched next to Kyle, peering into his eyes. Despite his extremis, Kyle's eyes locked onto his for a moment and Kenny thought, not sure whether or not to be relieved: He can see me.

"You're going to be okay Kyle," Kenny said as reassuringly as he could, knowing that Kyle could hear him as well. At times like this, he wished he had more than just words and the sound of his voice to offer someone who was dying a horrible death, a comforting hand on a shoulder perhaps.

Kyle's answer was another attempt at a scream, his eyes leaving Kenny's to rove around desperately, looking for anyone that could help him (that could make it so none of this was happening) and realizing that nothing or no one could. He coughed harshly and spat out another mouthful of crimson clots. His eyes were terrified and horribly aware of what was happening to him. Kenny could only watch as Kyle drowned in agony in his own blood, hoping his presence was at least a little comforting. Sometimes dying alone is better.

"You're going to be okay," Kenny repeated uselessly, watching as shock and blood loss finally took their toll and dragged Kyle down toward unconsciousness and the realization that would come soon afterward. Once Kyle's eyes were half-closed and mostly blank and he had stopped shaking, Kenny drifted back up to be with Stan again. He suspected that Kyle wouldn't take any of this very well at first once he joined them.

"He's going to be okay, Stan," Kenny repeated yet again, and he saw in Stan's eyes that he was already well under way to processing what was happening, and he knew exactly what Kenny meant by 'going to be okay'.

Kenny heard the first sirens coming from outside the bus, and knew what would happen next. Soon, 'help' would arrive, and life for those who came to try to save them would go on. Those rescuers would go through a lot of trouble for nothing, clambering down the steep embankment outside to try to save as many lives as they could, going home hours later trying to forget what they had seen here today as their rescue mission turned into a recovery one.

And Kenny would come back to life tomorrow with everyone he really cared about gone, dozens of lives shattered and futures they once dreamed about ended by a single moment of carelessness.

Something else was happening outside the bus, and Kenny looked away, not wanting to acknowledge it despite its inevitability. An enormous sphere of white light was slowly descending from the sky, shining brighter through the remains of the windshield as it drew closer. Only the newly-dead could see it, and soon they would all go into it and on to the afterlife that lay beyond…all except for Kenny of course.

Some of his classmates were already moving toward it, passing through the broken windshield and the sides and roof of the bus as if they weren't there. Kenny felt his heart break a little as he recognized them; there were so many: Token and Wendy (Kenny remembered they had been sitting together two seats in front of him); Mr. Mackey, Kevin Stoley, Ms. Crabtree, Heidi Turner, Bradley Biggle, Jimmy Valmer (his body now whole and no longer in need of crutches to get around), who looked back to give him a quick wave…

It was too much to bear, and Kenny looked away. He felt Stan looking at him, feeling their roles here starting to reverse, not wanting that, or any of this.

No, Stan…don't you dare feel sorry for me

Kenny heard a moan coming from the back of the bus and turned toward the sound, looking across what seemed like endless wreckage and bodies until he found the source. His eyes narrowed.

"Stan…wait here, okay? I have to check on something."

Stan looked at him sadly. "Kenny…don't leave me here…"

"It's okay, Stan." He nodded toward the back of the bus. "I'll just be a few feet away…and I'll be back, all right? You stay here and…" Kenny saw in Stan's eyes that he knew what he was going to say next. "Wait for Kyle, okay? He's going to need you, dude."

He turned toward the back of the bus, still trying to ignore the growing light behind him.

"Have you seen Craig?" Tweek asked, appearing in front of him as if out of nowhere and blocking his way. He was perfectly calm, and Kenny knew he had processed very quickly. "I haven't seen him since…you know. And I don't want him to think this was his fault!"

Kenny shook his head. "I haven't seen him," he answered honestly. He nodded toward the shining sphere outside the bus. "Maybe he went on ahead…"

Tweek nodded, and moved toward the light without another word, and Kenny drifted toward the rear emergency exit.

Cartman and Butters had been sharing the last seat on the right side of the bus, and had ended up mostly on top of the wreckage rather than being buried by it. It was still bad though; Butters was on his back trying to sit up, staring at his right leg, which was bent at an awkward angle. A sliver of gray bone protruded through a rip in his jeans just above his knee. Blood pulsed from around it in time with his heartbeat. Oh shit.

Kenny knelt, his eyes inches from Butters' pale, shocked face and shouted "Butters!" There was no response, Butters trying to reach toward his thigh, his arms going right through Kenny as his fingers fumbled uselessly where he was bleeding out from. Kenny screamed his name over and over, but there was absolutely no recognition in his eyes at all, and even when Kenny got close enough to feel his hot breath against his face, Butters clearly couldn't see him.

Cartman obviously could though. "Christ, Kinny," he whined, shifting uncomfortably around on the wreckage under him. "Why don't you just kiss him?"

Kenny whirled on him. "Cartman?"

"Poor boy?" Cartman answered immediately, and Kenny knew the rude answer was his way of coping with what was happening to him. Cartman's eyes widened, possibly realizing that he could see right through Kenny.

"You, uh…" You can see me? No, he couldn't say that. He had to be careful what he did say, or he might frighten Cartman into uselessness. He looked around desperately, seeing nothing that could be helpful. His eyes finally settled back on Cartman, specifically his waistline.

Just a few hours ago, he, Kyle and Stan had made fun of the outfit Cartman had worn today, laughing at the business suit, the polished black leather shoes and alligator hide belt; Cartman had claimed he had worn the belt just to piss off Wendy. Kenny's eyes settled on the belt. It would have to do, and he hoped it wasn't too late.

"Eric…" Kenny desperately needed Cartman to focus, something he seemed barely capable of doing. "You need to take off your belt."

Cartman blinked, going deeper into shock and wondering why he could see through Kenny. "Huh? What?"

"For Butters' leg! You need to make a tourniquet to stop the bleeding." He would give anything to be able to reach out and take Cartman's belt off and do this himself. Cartman was clearly badly injured as well and might very well be worthless.

Cartman stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Wha…"

"Eric, please! You have to take off your belt—" he nodded toward Butters' broken leg. "And wrap it around his leg and make a tourniquet or else he's going to bleed to death." He raised his voice to a shout, hating himself for it. "NOW, Cartman!"

Shouting at him seemed to break through at least some of Cartman's stupor. "Okay, Kenny, Jesus." He unbuckled his belt and started pulling it through the loops on his dress slacks. He winced painfully when he leaned forward to pull the belt from behind himself, and it was only then that Kenny saw the long shard of metal that had pierced his back. It had gone in on the left side, probably piercing his liver, and he moaned with pain as a fresh gout of blood poured from the wound.

"Oh geez, Cartman," Kenny said sympathetically, but there was nothing he could do for him. Cartman seemed focused on the mission Kenny had given him, finally getting his belt off and leaning over to wrap it around Butters' thigh a few inches above the protruding bone, feeding the end through the buckle and trying to pull the belt tight.

Butters screamed, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he laid back, his mouth open wide as his scream faded away. Cartman, to his endless credit, pulled the belt even tighter and Butters shrieked again.

"Yeah, sorry Butters." Cartman's own face was a mask of pain and he was obviously failing fast. Kenny was frightened that this might not work. "Like this, Kenny?"

"You gotta pull it even tighter," Kenny replied, hating himself for putting Cartman through this, during what he knew was the last minutes of Cartman's life. "You have to practically strangle his leg." Cartman gave another weak tug on his belt and Butters finally passed out from the pain. His bleeding had mostly stopped, but Cartman was at the end of his rope and wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"What's this?"

Kenny whirled around at the sound of the voice. Clyde Donovan had been sleeping in the back seat of the bus on the driver's side, and he was making his way toward them now. His face was bloody, and his broken left arm hung limply at his side, but he was clearly very much aware, and not seriously injured. Thank you, God.

He obviously didn't see Kenny either as he passed right through him, reaching with his right arm past Cartman's hands to take the end of the belt from him and pull it even tighter. Butters was unconscious by now, but Cartman was still very aware of his surroundings.

"I got this, Cartman," Clyde said, looking down at what he was doing, vague memories of a first aid class he had taken once stirring in his mind as he remembered where the pressure point in a thigh was. Kenny had always thought of Clyde as kind of an r-tard, but he could have kissed him right now.

"How did you do that, Clyde?" Cartman asked, laying back and looking terrified.

Clyde looked puzzled. "Do what?" he asked, obviously confused and frightened as he watched Cartman dying before his eyes, bleeding out right in front of him. "I just took over holding this tourniquet…"

"No—not that!" Cartman cried desperately, his eyes going from Clyde's to Kenny's, seeking an answer that was becoming obvious to him. "Kenny?" His voice was anguished as their eyes locked. "How did he…go through you like that?"

"Kenny?" Clyde asked, looking around. "What are you talking about, Cartman?" He spotted Kenny's headless corpse lying a few feet away and cringed. "Oh, Jesus."

"Kenny?" Cartman was fading fast, his eyes beginning to come unfocused.

"You're going to be okay, Eric," Kenny promised, tired of saying those words and feeling like a hypocrite. He watched Cartman drift into unconsciousness, unable not to feel a stab of jealousy that even someone as hateful and bigoted as he had been still got to go on to what Kenny was certain was a wonderful afterlife.

Outside, the first rescuers had reached the bus and were struggling to get inside. Clyde turned away to watch as someone wrenched hard on a crowbar they had jammed into the rear emergency exit and the door sagged open on its hinges with a scream of tortured metal.

There was nothing more Kenny could do here, so he made his way back toward Stan. Things were not good. Kyle had just joined him seconds ago and was hysterical.

"You mean that old bitch wrecked the bus and we're all dead?" Kyle screamed, looking around desperately. "NO! I have my whole life ahead of me! What about my parents…and Ike? They—they need me, Stan!" He turned toward Kenny and his eyes darkened in anger.

"Kyle—" Kenny began.

"NO!" Kyle shouted again. He was shrieking, out of his mind. "Fuck you, Kenny!" His arms flailed, wishing he could hit Kenny, or choke him, or hurt him somehow. "This is what you meant when you said I'd be okay?" He looked around desperately. "This is never going to be okay! Godfuckingdamnit…how can this be okay?" He moved away, passing through the side of the bus and outdoors, moving toward the still-expanding light.

Stan looked at Kenny desperately, seeking guidance. Kenny shook his head, hoping Kyle wouldn't leave yet, not certain if he even could before he…processed. "Stan…you go this time, okay?"

Stan nodded reluctantly and followed Kyle outside. More rescuers were making their way down the embankment, people shouting orders at others who were carrying far more medical equipment than they would need.

Kenny followed Stan outside into the afternoon sunlight, feeling their time together growing short as he passed easily through the side of the bus. Kyle and Stan were standing together, away from the light, even while others drew nearer to it. Kenny sadly took inventory of who hadn't left yet: Tweek, Token, Rebecca, and Sally Turner were all waiting by the light, looking at each other uncertainly.

"Kenny…" Kyle turned to look at him, and Kenny was relieved to see he was getting it now. "I'm…sorry. I know…you were just trying to help…this will be okay, I know that now. What's happening to you is what's not okay." And then he voiced the thing they all knew, and Kenny felt his heart shatter the rest of the way. "You… you don't get to come with us, do you?" Stan was looking at him as well, the same anguished look in his eye.

Kenny shook his head. "No…you know I don't." He tried to laugh but it came out sounding forced and sad. "You know…I feel like I should be trying to help you guys get through this, not the other way around."

"Aww, Kenny…" Stan said, moving closer to him with Kyle right alongside him. "I wish you could come with us. You don't deserve this. I'm going to miss you dude."

Cartman joined them at that moment; he had obviously processed what had happened very quickly. "Damn…so that's who really killed JFK, huh?" He looked around, his gaze settling on the dwindling group standing beside the sphere of light. "So…we're all dead, huh?"

There was no need for anyone to answer. They watched as more of their classmates went into the light, knowing their time here together was almost over.

"Hey, Kyle," Cartman said. He actually sounded contrite. "I'm sorry about that whole 'ginger Jew' thing…you know, when we were alive? It all seems kind of hella stupid now." He turned to Kenny and reached out to put his hand on Kenny's shoulder, remembering at the last moment that he wouldn't feel it. "And Kenny…"

"No need to say anything, Cartman." He watched several people emerge from the back of the bus, three of them carrying a stretcher with Butters strapped to it while a fourth held an I.V. bottle overhead, the thin plastic tubing running downward from it into Butters' arm glistening in the late afternoon sun. "You know…" Kenny nodded toward the paramedics. "You might have saved his life in there. That's gotta make up for a lot of things."

Cartman nodded. "You guys know I only gave him a hard time because I loved him, right?" He moved closer to Kenny. "I know I had a stupid way of showing it, but…" He shook his head. "His fucking parents are going to be useless to him…if he even survives."

Kenny looked at the stretcher and the men carrying Butters up the embankment. He was almost certain Butters would live, or else he would have seen Kenny inside the bus. Whether he would recover from his injuries was another matter. "I'll look after him, Cartman."

A minute later, everyone else who had died in the crash was gone, and it was time for them to go as well. Kenny felt a lump rising in his throat as he fought back tears, watching as they were inexorably pulled into the light.

"Kenny…" Stan said sadly. "We'll never forget you, dude."

He nodded, appreciating the lie or at least the intention behind it. Now that they've fully processed and were ready to go, they knew essentially everything, from Cartman's observation about the greatest crime of the twentieth century, to the true nature of God and the universe. They would remember him while they were in the afterlife; but in fifty years, or five hundred, when they eventually get recycled back to life again, they'll forget everything about today and the life they had left behind.

And perhaps one night, one of them would have an especially vivid dream about a friend they once knew who used to wear an orange parka with the hood pulled around his face, or have a vague memory of him whenever they smelled cat piss or cigarette smoke.

Stan, Kyle, and Cartman began moving toward the light, being drawn into it. The three of them waved, and Kyle called back over his shoulder, "Good bye, Kenny!" He and Stan were holding each other's hands, merging together.

Kenny sobbed and wiped tears from his cheeks. Just before they disappeared and the light drew back up into the sky and vanished, he shook his head and waved back at them.

"Good bye, you guys."

And then they were gone, and Kenny was alone. And as he felt himself being pulled down into the familiar darkness, he found himself wishing that maybe God would let him forget them, just as they had forgotten all the times they had seen him die.

When he awoke the next morning, swaddled in his own dirty sheets and staring at his bedroom ceiling, he realized his wish had been futile. He remembered everything.

~0~

This was originally going to be a one-shot, but nope. So: To be continued.