A/N: I was SO surprised not to see any of these. At all. I was, like, SUPER startled.

Listen to: "Hold on" by Good Charlotte, "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace, and if you're a Vocaloid fan, "The Disapearance of Miku Hatsune". They all inspired this fic, as well as the episode 'Marjorine', when I thought, 'Damn, sucks to be you, kid.'

Warnings: Rated T for language, self-mutilation, abuse, and suicidal themes.

Pairings: None, really. One mention of Creek, for a friend. There's some serious love between Ken and Buttercup. It's kind of a "friends doesn't even begin to describe it" thing. Platonic, though. Also, when Kyle's there with Stan, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, you've got to wonder what they were doing.

(at the bottom: These bold italics are what Butters is thinking. This is what Mr. Stotch is saying.)

He was sixteen.

He was just a kid.

He was picked on relentlessly at school.

He was beaten up at home by his drunken father.

He was hurt.

He was confused.

He was alone.

He was depressed.

He was willing to give up. More than willing. Longing.

He was hiding.

He was happy…

Or so it looked.

0.0.0

Life was hard from the time Butters was born. His parents blamed him for everything. He tried so hard to please them, but no matter what he did, they would never just leave him alone. They never did.

It got worse after his mother died. After that, his father started drinking. Almost every night, he would come home out of his senses and beat poor Butters half to death.

His so-called friends didn't care about him, either. All they ever did was rag on him, calling him names and putting him down. The only reason they would ever invite Butters to do anything with them was so that they could use him, or get him to do something that no one else was willing to. No one else would, but Butters didn't mind.

He never complained, so it must have been okay.

The truth was, Butters minded. Everything he was forced to do caused more and more emotional trauma. He hated going along with everything. It stung not to tell them what was on his mind. So most of the time, Butters just pretended not to know what was going on. It was easier that way.

Butters Stotch was just like any other kid in their town. He wasn't even half as innocent as he led on to be. Sure, he was a sweet boy. He was polite, caring, and had the softness of an angel. Even his appearance—enormous blue eyes, childish face, and tiny stature—added to the gentle aura that radiated from the boy.

But he was intelligent. He knew a lot more than he let people know. In reality, he could have just been himself and fit in a lot easier than he did.

But Butters Stotch was afraid of one thing:

He was terrified of what people thought of him. He already knew his parents hated him. He knew he wasn't too fond of himself, either. So he would be damned if he was going to let anyone else think that way about him.

He knew from experience that the best way not to be hated was not to be noticed. Those who never spoke up, never got hurt.

But still, no one cared. Butters was trying his hardest, but just like his parents, his 'friends' didn't like him. He was alone. Why?

It was getting too much to handle.

0.0.0

"You guys," whispered Kenny. He and the other three in their inner circle were sitting at lunch, like they always had. Craig, Tweek, Token, Jimmy, Clyde, and Clyde's new girlfriend were there as well, but they were all too busy talking to hear Kenny anyway. That was actually a good thing. Kenny didn't want them to hear.

"Yeah, Kenny?" asked Stan.

"I think…" Kenny looked over to where a small boy with blonde hair was sitting all by himself in the far corner of the lunchroom. "I think there's something seriously wrong with Butters."

Cartman snorted. "Of course there is! He's Butters!"

"Shut up, dildo!" snapped Kenny. "It's not funny!"

"Yeah…" said Kyle, his attention (along with Stan's) turning to where Butters was sitting. "Why didn't he want to sit with us at lunch today?"

"Now that you mention it, he has been acting weird today," said Stan. "Is he sick?"

"I dunno."

"Dude, I hope he's okay." Kyle turned to Kenny. "Maybe you should talk to him, Kenny. He'll probably tell you."

Kenny nodded and left for Butters's table.

"Hey there," said Kenny softly.

Butters jumped slightly. "Oh… H-hey, Kenny…"

"'sere somethin' wrong, buddy?" the taller asked, taking a seat next to his friend. "We're all pretty worried about you."

"No," answered Butters. "No. It's… Nothing's wrong." He hugged his knees, looking at the floor.

"You sure?" A nod. "Okay. If you need to talk, though, I'll listen, okay?" A nod. Then Kenny left, sensing that the boy would rather be alone at the moment.

"Did he tell you what was wrong with him?" asked Stan.

"No." Kenny looked down. "But now I know… It's really serious."

0.0.0

At the moment, Butters had started to reconsider his plans. Just having Kenny care that much about him really did help. However, when he got home, he forgot all about that.

His father was drunk again, and he decided to give Butters the beating of a lifetime.

And as if the physical pain wasn't bad enough, his father was using verbal blows as well.

It's all your fault! Linda's dead, and it's all because of you!

No…

You pushed her too far! She had to kill herself to get away from you!

That's not true… It's not!

You killed her!

It can't be…

YOU KILLED HER!

It's not true… Kenny says it's not true!

YOU did this!

It… I didn't…

Why don't you just die? I hate you! The WORLD hates you!

…

…You lied, Kenny.

0.0.0

He ran to his room and got the kitchen knife he had so carefully hidden for the past month, in case things got to be too much. As they were now.

Whatever part of him wanted to keep going, any small voice in his head that wanted to keep living, if only for Kenny, vanished at that moment.

He left the room by sneaking out the window, something he was almost too used to doing. He decided that he didn't want to die there, where he would most likely just lie there, unnoticed, for an indefinite amount of time.

So, he decided to go to Starks' Pond. A little clichéd, maybe, but it was his best bet.

Butters vaguely remembered a time in his past when he'd been forced to fake his own suicide. Half the town had come out to try to stop him.

I wonder if that many people will care this time?

Less than likely. He reminded himself that one girl in his class didn't even remember him afterwards.

Someone that unmemorable won't be missed, he thought.

With that, he pressed the knife into his skin.

He felt the pain, he saw the blood, and yet somehow, didn't care. He just kept going, as if in a trance. He wouldn't have stopped. Not if he hadn't heard…

"BUTTERS!"

He looked up. "Ke… Kenny?"

Kenny stood there, shaking with some great emotion. The look on his face was a mixture of shock, grief, guilt, and rage. He just kept staring, without saying a word, until he finally appeared to be able to form sentences again. "Butters, what the FUCK are you doing?"

"Kenny, I-"

"ANSWER ME!" Kenny's breath came out in deep bursts, and his clenched fists continued to shake. Then his features softened. Kenny's hands loosened up, and his shoulders sunk. He looked as though he were about to start crying. "Why? Oh, God… Why would you…?" Kenny ran to Butters, taking the knife away and nearly crushing him in a hug. "Oh, Butters… Oh my god…"

After a few minutes of silence, Kenny finally released him. "Can… Will you let me take a look at your wrist?"

Butters reluctantly nodded, surrendering his arm to Kenny.

"This is pretty deep," said Kenny softly. "You probably need to go to the hospital."

"Why should I?"

Kenny tensed, with a look on his face like he'd been slapped. "You… You can't be serious… A-are you?"

Butters looked down. "I… I don't know."

"Then why were you willing to try it?" No answer. "You don't want to die, do you?"

"I…" The smaller boy fell to his knees. "I just want it to go away."

Kenny sat down next to his friend, putting a hand on his back. "There's a better way to deal with it, you know?"

"N-no there's n-not!"

Kenny sighed. "Let me see your arm, okay? I promise I won't take you to the doctor yet."

Out from inside the pocket of his hoodie, Kenny produced a small first-aid kit. "Don't ask," said Kenny, sighing. "Kyle gave it to me. You know how he is." He took out some alcohol, cotton balls, and bandages. "This might hurt a little, so just bear with it."

After Butters's wound was tended to, Kenny wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, sighing. "Now. We're gonna talk about why you got the bright idea to try to kill yourself. We're gonna talk, and you're gonna tell me what's wrong, no matter how long it takes."

Butters looked away.

"I got all night."

The tiny blonde sighed. "Why do you even care? Nobody likes me, anyway."

"I like you," said Kenny bluntly.

"No you don't."

Kenny sighed. "Okay. So I don't like you."

Butters cringed. He knew it all along, but had been fearing the truth.

"I don't like you," Kenny continued. "I'm not trying to help you. I didn't just clean up your cut, and said cut didn't just get blood all over me. And above all, I'm not holding you in my arms right now, because you're not my friend."

Butters cried, staring in disbelief at him. "K…Kenny…"

"And guess what?" asked Kenny. "Everyone else hates you too. Because this phone—this one right here—" He held up his cell phone—"Yeah, it's not been getting texts asking about you ALL NIGHT. Because Tweek did NOT hijack his boyfriend, Craig's, phone right in the middle of our conversation—which was NOT about you, by the way—JUST to spaz over where you are, because they hate you too."

"You're lying, Kenny." Butters shook his head. "Nobody cares about me! You all just feel sorry for me!"

"What did I just say?" asked Kenny. "See, I agree with you."

"Kenny!"

Kenny sighed. "Okay, if you're so hated, then tell me. Where did all this come from?"

"You… you guys hate me…" he answered meekly.

"Yeah. We do," said Kenny sarcastically. "Go on. Tell me more."

"Ever since we were little, you guys've always used me!" Butters cried. "You never liked me! You just kept me around to do take the blame for stuff, and do stuff that no one else wanted to do!"

"Dude." Kenny frowned. "That makes no sense. We don't do that because we hate you. We do that because… we're guys. That's what guys do."

"But… why me?"

"Because you never complain." Kenny shrugged. "Anyone else would throw a fit if we tried to mess with 'em. We figured you just didn't mind."

"I DO mind!"

"I can see that…" Kenny sighed. "Okay. If that's all, I'll help you change it. Why don't you just tell the guys to fuck off. They'll leave you alone if they see you really don't like it."

"But…" Butters started pressing his fingers together shyly.

"Butters, you're doing that finger thing again." Kenny smiled. "I'll even help you."

Butters sniffled, nodding.

"See? You don't have to solve a temporary problem with a permanent solution." Kenny hugged the smaller boy closer. "C'mere."

Butters yelped, squirming around in Kenny's arms.

"What's wrong?" asked Kenny, letting go.

"N-nothing!"

"…Look at me."

"N…"

"Look. At. Me."

Butters flinched, slowly looking up.

"…God…!" Kenny gently cupped a hand on his friend's cheek. "What the hell happened to you?"

Butters's once-perfect, doll-like skin was badly bruised, with a long cut under one eye. He had grown his bangs out the past summer. Now Kenny knew why.

It was to hide…

"I… I fell…" whimpered Butters.

"Bullcrap!" yelled Kenny. "Who did this to you?"

"No one!"

Kenny sighed. "You can tell me, okay? Don't be scared, Butters. I won't let them hurt you again. Just tell me." He patted the boy on the back softly. "It's okay. I'll protect you."

Butters looked around nervously. "It… It was my d-dad."

"What? I'll fucking kill him!"

"Kenny, please-"

"No! No please!" Kenny started getting up. "Your old man is DEAD!"

As poor as the McCormicks were, Kenny couldn't imagine his parents beating him. His parents may have fought each other most of the time, but what love they kept from each other, they gave to their children. And Kenny was, guiltily, his parents' favorite, due to his mature personality, and his many deaths.

And to have poor Butters treated this way by his own father… It burned Kenny's ears just to hear it.

"No, Kenny! He… He can't h-help it!" Butters sobbed. "H-he drinks a lot now…"

Kenny snorted. "Yeah, so does MY dad, but you don't see HIM wailing on ME!"

"I… It's because my mom died… He-he…" the boy sniffled. "He can't d-deal with it, so he…" Butters rubbed his eyes. "And besides… It's my fault anyway…"

"Is that what he told you when he was beating you?" asked Kenny, sitting back down.

The other boy nodded pitifully. "B-bec-cause m-mom died 'cause sh-she h-hated meee…"

"No, she didn't."

"Yes she d-did! I-I-" Butters doubled over in pain. "O-ow…!"

"What's wrong?" asked Kenny. "Are you feeling okay?" He propped Butters up, placing a hand on his back. "Where does it hurt?"

"He-ow…!"

He wasn't breathing the way he should have been. Kenny knew Butters was hurt far worse than he originally thought.

Kenny lifted his friend's shirt up. "Don't worry. I'm not molesting you or anything." A tiny grin. "I saw that." Kenny smirked. "Good. Don't be scared. I'm taking care of you here."

"N-now, I'm sc-ared…"

"There we go," smiled Kenny. "See? You're okay. You're feeling well enough to make smartass comments like that, right?" His smile soon faded, when he noticed Butters slipping from consciousness. "Hey, stay with me, okay? You have to stay awake."

There was definitely some internal damage, probably a few broken ribs. It probably didn't help that he ran there, or the fact that he was under a lot of stress.

"Hang on, okay?" Kenny took out his cell phone and randomly pressed a number on speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Stan!"

"Kenny? Dude, what's wrong?"

"Call for help. It's Butters."

"Why? What happened?"

"His asshole father beat him half to death. He needs medical attention, now."

"Right. Where are you?"

"Stark's Pond."

Butters let out a pitiful moan. "Kenny…!"

"And hurry!"

"I will!" Kenny heard Stan yell something to someone else before hanging up.

"It's okay, Butters. Help's coming for you. Just stay with me."

"I-it h-hurts, Kenny…!"

Kenny stroked the boy's forehead. "I know… You have to fight it. I know it hurts…"

"P-p-pl-hease d-don't let me d-die …!"

He took Butters's hand. "Just keep pushing. You're gonna make it okay. I promise."

Then he…

really does want to live after all.

0.0.0

Butters was sitting in the back of the church alone. All of his tears had run out long ago, so now he just sat there, staring at the floor.

His mother had been found dead a few days ago of an accidental overdose of non-prescription pain medication. She apparently had a headache that refused to go away, but…

Suicide was also a debated cause, for which there was no clear reason. Linda Stotch was, at least seemingly, a very happy woman. She had a loving husband, a nice house, a well-paying job, and best of all, a well-behaved, selfless son, who unlike other teenagers, never did anything to purposefully upset her.

Still, Butters couldn't help but blame himself. In his self-shamed eyes, he had done many things wrong the day of his mother's death. Even though her death was an accident, Butters was stricken with crushing guilt.

"Why… Why can't I just… be better?"

"Hey."

Butters looked up. "Oh… Kenny…"

The taller teen was now sitting next to his friend, wearing all black instead of his almost-uniform orange. Even his blonde hair was combed a little, so that didn't (like usual) resemble a bird's nest.

"I'm really sorry, dude," said Kenny.

Butters looked down. "No… You didn't do anything, Ken. If anybody's to blame… it's me."

Kenny's eyebrows raised. "How so?"

"I… I wasn't… being a good son that day…" he admitted, with the face of an ashamed child.

Kenny shook his head. "I don't believe that. I know you, Butters. You couldn't be a bad anything if you practiced every day and took lessons from Hitler."

"B-but I… I did lots of… I didn't make my bed, I… And…"

Kenny chuckled, scruffing Butters's hair. "That's cute. No, if you want to see a bad son, go to Cartman's house. You seen how he treats his ma?" Butters nodded. "Yeah, poor lady's got it rough with that dude. But is she bitter with him?" Butters shook his head. "No. Know why? They're family. She loves that jackass, and as much as it would embarrass him to admit it, he loves her right back.

"Your mom loved you. There's no way she would've done something like that because'a you. I doubt it was on purpose, but if it was, she probably had lots of other issues in her life going on." Kenny wrapped his arms around him. "So don't worry about it. And if she did, then she didn't deserve you. You're a great kid, Butters."

"R… Really?"

Kenny nodded. "Yup. You're one of the only people I can really talk to in this town. You've been there for me when times got hard, you've never missed one of my funerals. And unlike most'a these assholes, you never have a bad word to say about anybody."

Butters sniffed, struggling hard to hold back tears. "Th-thanks, Ken."

0.0.0

Stan had arrived with Kyle a few minutes before the ambulance to find Butters asleep in Kenny's arms, wrapped in that classic orange jacket.

Kyle sighed. "Kenny!"

Kenny looked down at the now orange-clad little Butters. "He got cold," he answered innocently.

"No. He's asleep. You never let someone in that condition sleep!"

"I tried to keep him awake."

"Wake him up."

Kenny made a sad face. "But… But… He's so cute…"

Kyle growled. "NOW."

Kenny huffed. "FINE, Kyle. Angry midget tsundere Jew…"

"STAN!" called Kyle.

"Kenny, don't call Kyle a… Whatever you just said."

"This is a serious moment!" Kyle frowned.

Kenny looked down. "I know. I was just trying to forget." He held Butters a little closer. "I… I don't think there's anything we can do for him right now."

"…"

0.0.0

Butters woke up to see Kenny sitting next to him, holding his hand.

"Ke… Kenny?"

Kenny jumped a bit when he heard his name, but smiled. "Hey, there. Feeling any better?"

"A little."

"That's good. You really scared us there."

"Us?"

Kenny grinned and looked over at the door. "Okay, guys. You can come in."

Stan and Kyle both walked in together.

"You okay, dude?" asked Stan. Butters nodded.

"That's good," said Kyle. "We all thought you wouldn't make it."

"All?"

Stan looked over at Kenny. "You think it'd be okay if we brought the others in?"

"It's cool. Right, Butters?"

He nodded. "Sure, I guess…"

"Awesome. We'll go get them." With that, they both left.

"Hey."

Butters looked up.

"I didn't tell anyone about… that," said Kenny quietly. "Is that okay? I just thought you might not want anybody to know."

Butters nodded. "Thanks, Kenny."

Suddenly, he noticed how worn out Kenny looked. He must have stayed up all night with Butters… It made him miserable to think about.

Kenny must have noticed this, because he reached out and hugged Butters with one arm. "I'm just happy you're okay." He let go, smirking like a madman. "And you might wanna toughen up a bit. The big C's coming in here, and I don't want you getting picked on."

"The big… Eric?"

Kenny chuckled. "Weeee'll see…"

To Butters's amazement, most of his classmates flooded into his room. There was, of course, Stan and Kyle, along with Craig, Tweek, Clyde, Token, Jimmy, Timmy, Bebe, Wendy, and the expected Eric Cartman.

Kenny made a shocked face. "Damn, you guys! I thought it was just you guys, Cartman, Craig, and Tweek! The HELL?"

"Sorry!" said Stan. "They keep multiplying! Every time we turn away, there's two more!"

"And there's already a crowd of fan girls from the upper grades outside shouting 'We wanna see our little Butters! Let us see our Butters!'" Kyle waved his arms spastically to imitate the girls outside.

Tweek shoved his way to the front of the crowd, already in tears. "I-I got you th-this…" he said holding out some candy. "But I-I… I d-didn't know if you w-would l-like it, so… And th-then I ended up s-standing there holding up the l-line, and it w-was SO MUCH P-PRESSURE! I c-called Kenny b-but… I… GAH!" He literally threw a pile of candy on Butters, then ran and hid behind Craig.

Clyde shoved a little taco plushie in Butters's face. "You can hold my taco!"

Token sighed. "Put it away."

"Why? He needs it!"

"Just… Just do. You're starting to freak people out."

Clyde pouted. "Fine, Token. You taco-haterer." He returned his attention to Butters. "Blame Token if you never get better. It's all his fault for denying you the magical taco of restorative goodness."

"STOP IT WITH THE TACO!"

Cartman nodded once in Butters's direction, to acknowledge him. "Hey."

Butters nodded back, smiling. He'd honestly never felt happier. To have Eric Cartman take time to visit him… He really was loved. All the people there with him really did care. Clyde had even offered to share his taco plushie, when usually no one was even allowed to touch it.

Wendy and Bebe were both sitting on either side of his bed, playing with his hands. Then Bebe noticed the bandages over Butters's wrist.

"Oh, no!" she cried. "Did your dad do this to you too?"

Butters looked at Kenny, as if to ask permission. After he nodded, Butters answered, "Yeah."

Wendy gasped. "That's terrible!"

Kyle frowned. "It's good they arrested him. That jerk. I should go kick his ass!"

"I'm with ya!" agreed Cartman, raising a fist. There was a long, awkward pause. "Uh… You… asshole Jew!"

The entire room started laughing, with the exception of Kyle and Cartman.

"Hey, dude," said Stan. "My parents say you can come live with us for awhile."

Kenny shrugged. "I volunteered, but… We're too poor to accommodate cute blondes. Well… Other than me."

Kyle smirked. "Not to mention that you'd probably molest him."

Kenny let out an overly-dramatic, valley girl gasp. "Would not!"

Stan laughed. "Besides, I'm sick of being alone with Shelley." He rolled his eyes. "It gets boring. And I never had a brother, so… It might be fun."

Butters smiled "Th-thanks, Stan."

Things were looking up.

END

A/N: A picture I saw on dA inspired the taco plushie thing. It had Clyde with his taco, saying "You may have gotten laid last night, but I have a taco plushie! So STFU!" LOL, he's so cute and… Clyde. xD

I am now starting a cosplay web show starring myself as Clyde. It will be called… "The Clydicles." LOL.

And see? I CAN write happy endings after all. So neener neener neener, friend of mine who bet I couldn't. Now you owe me tree fitty, foo'!