A/N: Long story short I moved from Indiana to Washington back to Indiana and in there got two jobs and engaged and stuff and life hasn't let me write. So yeah.

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.

Here's yer last chapter, ya'll. Enjoy :)

Never in his life had Kenny McCormick been so angry at Cartman before, or anyone for that matter. Never had he wished for somebody's death, wished for them nothing but pain and torment. Regardless of his being raised without his parents, he was still brought up in the ways of right and wrong. Ill willed wishes weren't something that just came naturally for him, he believed that there was some aspect of good within anybody.

But as he felt the bangles overtop the rope that kept him bound to one of the pillars in his tower, he felt nothing but hate. Nothing but pure anger seething from his trapped state. He let out a furious scream, trying for God-knows what number of times to break himself free. The guards had left him long ago and he knew just why: They wanted to see Kyle's execution for themselves. Kenny had learned well enough that Kyle was a thorn in the sides of the entire fleet, there's no doubt that all of them would be less than ecstatic to watch him finally get his punishment.

Kenny's head fell forward and he sniveled miserably. This was all going so wrong. He shouldn't have let Kyle leave the tower. He should have gone down first. He should have went with him. Maybe he would have stood a chance then. Maybe they could be in the mess together. Kenny knew that both of them would rather have somebody die by their side than to die on their own. Though Kenny knew better. Kyle's entire life had been spent evading death. He was terrified of it, he knew that it wouldn't be easy on himself so he ran.

Just not fast enough anymore. Cartman learned how to take the long strides until he caught up with the gypsy and managed to step in front of him to catch him in his gluttony arms. Kenny could just see that glint in Cartman's eyes after he caught him. That gleam that just screamed that he was satisfied, a look that Kenny had never seen in those brown iris' before. It horrified him. He knew what that glance meant: he was going to do what he promised and take Kyle for his own. Kenny knew well enough that Kyle wasn't going to let that happen easily, that he would rather face certain death than remain in the fatass' grubby hands.

Nothing about this was going to end well.

He let out another howling scream, his closed eyes giving him visions of Cartman rubbing his paws all over the gypsy, murmuring horrible words to him, demanding that he repent. He could just see Kyle screaming, begging, crying. He knew Kyle's pride was strong but it could only last so long. Kenny knew. Kyle was scared of the larger man. Scared in the sense of stature and power, not so much pride and intimidation. Kyle would backtalk that slime any day, but when it came to brute strength, there was no doubt that the small gypsy was outmatched.

It was this that sent Kenny's terror over the edge. It was already past the dawn. Kyle was to be dealt with on this day. The blonde could just sense the world turning over, throwing nearly everything he'd come to know out of balance.

"Kenny," a voice hissed. He turned his head quickly and came across Craig sneaking up towards him.

"Craig," he croaked. "What...what are...why aren't you with Car-"

"Because I don't believe that he's doing what he should," he said firmly. He kneeled down beside him and started to unravel his binds. "I've never thought that he's been doing anything beneficial for the church. He was raised to promote the word of God, not to make up some blasphemous horse shit about gypsies preventing him from spreading the tales."

"R-really?" Kenny blinked at him, pulling his now freed arms around and rubbing the raw skin.

"I may not be a gypsy lover but I'd prefer Kyle being a voice of this town rather than that fat bastard," he shook his head.

Kenny hopped to his feet. "Kyle. Where is Kyle," he asked grabbing a hold of Craig's shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "Craig, Cartman's going to kill him!"

"He's going to do more than that," he said gravely. He looked out the balcony of the tower and pointed eastward. "If you follow the main road, it'll take you to a dirt path that'll lead you to an old barn. It's only a few minutes away if you run. That's where they're planning to burn Kyle."

"W-what," Kenny shook, reality hitting him even harder as he heard it coming from the apprentice himself.

"Kenny, go!" Craig demanded, shoving him towards the opening in the floor. "If you want to get the gypsy out of there, you're going to lose your chance!"

Kenny stumbled a bit before his feet kicked up and he rushed, shouting a "Thanks, Craig!" before hopping down the open door.

Craig watched after him before sighing and turning to look out towards the rising day. "Be careful out there, Kenny. You don't know what that fatass is capable of." He closed his eyes and clasped his hands in prayer as he had done so many times in the midst of his training. Though now, instead of praying for salvation and seeing the view of God entering his vision, all he could see was the helpless face of the poor redhead the night that he'd been captured. Craig let out a heavy sigh, everything seeming to fall onto him at once. "You've got an angel coming for you now, Kyle," he murmured. "Hang on long enough for him to get there. He's your only chance."

Cartman had long been taught that emotional joy in his victory was a sin. Pride was heavily looked down upon by the Lord and was greeted with a special sect in Hell for that type. But as he watched the gypsy writhing on the pole he was tied to, he couldn't help but feel his face splitting into a beaming grin. Everything had gone perfectly.

He could smell the torch meant to seal the boy's fate burning away into the early morning behind him. He always waited before setting the sinner aflame. He would wait for them to suffer. He would wait for them to watch that torch smoldering, knowing that each lick of the flame only brought them closer to death before they themselves were finally caught in the swirling torrent of Hell.

As far as Cartman was concerned, it was a more so delectable pastry that no baker could ever match. It was tart and sweet along the palate. Oh so satisfying, oh so delicious.

"Gypsy!" he bellowed. He waited for Kyle's eyes to rise into his own, nearly losing all control again as he saw the complete defeat overshadowing the boy's face. His green eyes, however, remained steady and firm. He wasn't going to die a coward. He was going to go down believing what he did. Or so he thought. Cartman had seen that look among the faces of many a dying gypsy before it was stripped away at the first touch of fire upon their bare flesh. It wasn't a pleasant death, it wasn't the most happily of ways to go. But it was beautiful. Cartman smiled sickly to himself as he could envision the little gypsy's red hair caught in the gathering ember current. It would be gorgeous.

"Gypsy, I am asking you as a servant of God Himself," he began. "Give yourself, your life to me. Become my understudy."

"You mean your fucktoy?" Kyle hissed, venom spitting out of his furious mouth. "I am nobody's pet, Preacher and I am not about to become one through the means of you as my master!"

Cartman firmly set his lips, glancing around as people began talking amongst one another with Kyle's outburst.

"Vile gypsy I would not touch you other than to wring your neck in the name of God!" he angrily retorted. He could not have word of what he did getting out amongst the town. It could mean terrible things for the church, but worst of all, horrible things for him.

"You liar!" he screamed back. "You rape me and you have the nerve to yell that you would do otherwise?"

"What...no...," Stan blinked, looking over at the preacher, his shocked gaze slowly melting into rage. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled at the fat man.

"Hold your tongue, Marsh," Cartman spat, looking back towards the gypsy carefully. "Do you truly believe that false accusations will save you from your cleansing?" he seethed. "Do you think that you're going to be freed from Satan's wrath for such a charge?"

"I may be going to Hell for being who I am by my birth," Kyle snarled. "I may be put through torture merely for being alive and keeping myself as such as long as I could manage. However, YOU, Preacher, are going to burn yourself for lying as you are! You're no man of God! You're nothing more than a deceitful rapist! There's a special place in Hell for those like you. God doesn't look kindly upon false prophets!"

The audience stood in shock, unsure of what to believe. Stan, however, knew exactly what to think, starting to furiously wriggle in his place, only partially being held by Token and Clyde, who were staring at Cartman in confusion.

"You don't think he..." Clyde narrowed his eyes at the preacher slightly.

"No. No he wouldn't have. The gypsy is tainted. And he's a preacher he couldn't..." Token faltered, cocking his brow slightly.

"Oh please," Stan rolled his eyes. "You know just how obsessed Cartman is with Kyle. You truly believe that he wouldn't do something so vile?"

Token opened his mouth to tell him to shut up before sealing his lips once again as his mind wrapped around such a thought. As against his code as it was to doubt the word of a member of the church, he couldn't help that lingering doubt crawling around the back of his mind.

Cartman's eyes darted around in minor worry, hearing the echo of doubt rip through the crowd at an alarming pace. He knew that it was now or never to make them forget what the rat had proclaimed.

"One more chance!" he shouted at the barn.

"Up yours, you sorry sack of shit!" Kyle spat, fury and hatred replacing any hint of fear once held in his gaze. He knew that anything he could do would result in slavery in one way or another; whether by Satan's hand or Cartman's. At least he was going down leaving that heavy shadow hanging over the bulbous preacher's head; at least he went down fighting, just as he had his entire life.

"Fine, you wretched heretic!" Cartman bellowed, grabbing the torch from a soldier's hand and holding it high above his head. "With this flame, let your soul be repented, let this be a lesson to you and all those who follow your vile ways that you are an object of blasphemy; the very picture of sin itself!" Screams erupted and gasps waved through the crowd as he flung the torch onto the hay inside the barn not ten feet away from Kyle. The gypsy's eyes widened as he watched it easily creeping, leaving a small trail of smoke as it began to catch wind.

Stan screamed Kyle's name helplessly, fighting against the hold on him in panic and despair. Gypsies stepped forward, wanting to run in to save the boy they'd raised, only to back down at the points of swords and heavy glares, resorting to yelling angrily, crying out bible verses speaking against the killing of an innocent.

Cartman ignored all else, his eyes locked on Kyle and watching the slow, dripping form of his face. Watching him as he filled with realization, with anger, and that oh-so glorious fear. His chubby face slowly spread into a maniacal grin, tonguing over his lips slowly before muttering to himself, "See you in Hell, Kahl."

Kenny's feet blistered from the unfamiliar territory that was the rocky road laid before him. Weeds stuck to the bottom of his pants leg, tangling around his ankle and pricking at his sensitive, pale skin. But he didn't feel anything but adrenaline, nothing but the sheerest panic as he thought of the scene that could very easily be laid out before him: Kyle, dead in the arms of Cartman, a complete slave to his whim in death when once so ferocious in his life.

He shook his head, blonde hair flinging into his eyes and blurring his vision with his worrisome tears. No. No Kyle was a fighter, Kyle was stronger than the fatass preacher gave him credit for. He was a survivor, after all. There was no way that he could be brought down so easily.

These thoughts did nothing to calm his racing heart as his tender feet beat along the dirt path.

"If I truly were an angel I could just fly there!" he thought spitefully, a torrent of hatred for Cartman starting anew in the pit of his belly. A breach in the blue sky of dawn caught his eye and his heart fell: Smoke. Murky, billowing smoke plundering the graces of the heavens.

"Kyle," he whispered before his body threw itself into overdrive, his legs moving faster than his mind could keep up with as he raced uphill. His skin was on fire, sweat drenching his clothes and hair as his muscles became nearly uncontrollable from the exertion.

He reached the top of the hill and looked down for a brief moment, coming across a horrifying sight: a barn in the midst of flames, a crowd of people thrashing each other in ways he'd never seen before. His eyes quickly assed the mob for familiar faces, or more precisely, hair. When no bright red tendrils caught his attention, it fell to an obvious, large form in the crowd. The only one of them staying still, staring in awe at the burning building.

His teeth gritted, lips curling in fury as his eyes lost all sight of anything else, honing in on that one figure. His body kicked up again and sent him flying down the hill, running faster than he'd ever thought possible. Red circled around Cartman's form as he drew nearer, everything else merely a distraction from what he wanted: revenge.

He heard screams of his appearance, seeing nothing but Cartman turning in shock as he leaped at him, grabbing his neck and taking him down onto the ground with a sickening thud. Cartman's hands reached up, grasping at Kenny's hair and furiously trying to push the raging blonde away from him.

"GUARDS!" Cartman screamed. Kenny turned only for a second to see two guards heading his way, a lump of anger in his throat, no thoughts of consequences, only revenge.

Stan watched in awe for a moment at Kenny's timely appearance before feeling Token and Clyde's grip loosening on him. He pulled his arm out and grabbed Token's sword from it's sheath, a sharp hissing sound ensuing.

Token and Clyde backed up as Stan held it at them threateningly, "Touch me and I'll decapitate the both of you traitors, you understand?" he snapped. He looked at the crowd angrily, "Don't just stand there, take back your rights! They have no right to hold you prisoner or kill you! Don't let another innocent fall at the feet of their ideals of God!" He shouted, holding the sword in the air.

A moment of thought passed through the crowd before a simultaneous snap threw them forward towards the enclave of guards at the threshold. Swords were grabbed, ripped away from the men only for them to find themselves on the ground of angry citizens, beating and screaming as never heard before.

Stan tore his attention back towards Kenny and Cartman, who were still fighting on the ground, the guards whom were coming to the rescue being pummeled by the people. He let out a vicious battle cry, leaping towards the two of them and grabbing Cartman up under his arms, kicking Kenny away and rolling the fatass onto his stomach and holding him down.

"Kenny, the barn!" he shouted. "Kyle's right in the front!"

Kenny snapped his head towards the inferno behind him, without a second's doubt leaping through the wall of flames that barricaded the door. The heavy, arid smoke invaded his nose, clouding up his throat and making tears roll down his cheeks. His vision crossed as he fumbled around, his feet trailing over hot flames through the hay. Every step sent a wave of embers into his face, scorching his cheeks and searing his hair. He growled, making his way through towards the center of the barn, his clouded vision catching glimpse of something else in the flames.

"Kyle?" he rasped out, hurrying towards it with no regard to the pain hissing throughout his body. He made his way towards it, his eyes failing to make out any features. His fingers trailed over hurriedly, feeling the soft feeling of flesh underneath his tips. He found a face, feeling a spiral of hair over the forehead. "Kyle!" he shouted. "Kyle, can you hear me?"

It was silent sans the roar of the crackling flames. He growled, feeling down the boy's arms to his back where his wrists were still bound. His fingers fumbled around the rope, feeling a scorched edge and tearing at it hurriedly. A soft snap was heard and the form fell forward into him. He grabbed him, hoisting him up on his back. "Don't worry, Kyle," he said, trying to gather himself to find his way back from whence he came. "I've got you now, and I won't let you go," he promised.

"Off of me, Soldier!" Cartman screamed. Stan growled and tightened his grip around the menace.

"You can't give me orders anymore, you fuck," he seared. "Not me, not Kyle, not Kenny, not anyone."

"I am the word of God!" Cartman raved, thrashing around like a child. "I give people hopes and dreams. You do nothing but create your own fantasy worlds where you and the gypsy go riding off in the sunset together in your godless ways!"

Stan hit the side of his head sharply, eyes boring into the hair of the man. "I have a god," he hissed, kicking off a guard that'd fallen at his feet. "He's a fair God. One who lets all of His children live their lives, so long as they're happy and good in His realm. And he's a God who doesn't like being spoken for," he jerked him roughly.

"You will burn with the gypsy and that little blonde traitor!" he howled.

"According to you, he's an angel," Stan said lowly. "And if I'm correct, angels are here to spread the word of God. And that angel told you not to do anything to Kyle." Stan paused as he felt Cartman tensing in anger, leaning in towards his ear to whisper quietly, "'Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word.'"

A crashing sound erupted between the two of them and they looked up, watching as a figure came leaping through the barn onto the ground in front of them. Cartman's face turned horrifically sour, his eyes set on the arms of the figure which held a boy, curled up with his face against the chest of his savior. Kenny's eyes, bloodshot and tear-filled looked up into Cartman's; smoke emitting off of his body like spirits themselves; untamed and free.

Stan looked between the two of them before shoving Cartman towards the barn with a heavy grunt, both of them watching as the preacher stumbled and fell onto a pile of flames, screaming in agony and trying to scramble up. His hands brushed off burning pieces of hay as he fought his way towards the door. Stan quickly leapt forward towards the billowing heat, grabbing the handle of the door still standing wide open and pushing it closed. He and Kenny grabbed the wooden bar to lock it and shoved it into place, hearing the angry screams of Cartman escaping beyond the pieces of smoldering wood. They backed up from it, holding Kyle with one another as the crowd behind them slowly became quiet as they listened to the blood-curdling screams from the other side of the door.

Stan looked up as he heard a creak and his heart jumped. "Everyone back!" He screamed, waving the mob away. "It's gonna fall!"

The citizens with Kenny and Stan ran up towards a field a good distance from the barn, hearing it giving under its weight and crashing to the ground, sending an array of flames up towards the sky in a dance of light and power.

Kenny gulped as they stared in awe, holding Kyle closely to himself. "Is...is that what Hell's like?" he asked blankly.

Stan took a shuddery breath, watching the bodies of his fellow guards hit by burning debris and burning to death. "For Cartman and his God, it must be," he responded.

They both looked down at Kyle as Kenny knelt on the ground, holding him up in his arms. The crowd gathered around them, Nate coming up and kneeling down beside him.

He sighed, running his fingers through the red hair, singed and unruly. "I always knew he'd be the one to kill that man," he shook his head. "He always said he would...I just didn't know it'd happen like this," he laughed humorlessly.

"Is...is he alive?" Stan asked solemnly.

"...Barely," Kenny breathed, tears welling in his eyes. He tilted Kyle's head up towards his own, looking at the burn marks seared into his body. His breath was light and shallow, nothing but a husk of life.

"What...what can we do?" Nate asked as Stan fell to his knees beside him.

"I-I don't know," Kenny shook his head, brushing curls back lightly. "I don't think a doctor can help him at this point."

"Dammit!" Stan shouted, beating his fist into the ground. "Why the fuck did Cartman do this?"

Kenny looked up at him gravely. "You're only mad because it was Kyle involved. If it was any other gypsy you wouldn't have blinked an eye."

Stan looked at him and paled. "I-I...That's not true!" he argued.

"He's right, you know," Nate said quietly. He looked at Stan with gentle eyes. "You went to war against heretics. We all know that you killed gypsies in the name of the church. We're only just so lucky that Kyle showed you just how human we are."

Stan opened his mouth to retort, falling silent in the midst of staring eyes. He gulped, looking at Kyle with glassy eyes. "I'm like him, you know," he said softly. "I was only doing what I was raise and trained to do. If I'd known better...if the church hadn't of told me that they were all-"

"No one's blaming you, Stan," Kenny interrupted, sighing. "No one can. All of us have something to do with this," he looked at Nate and the gypsies behind him, the rest of the townspeople following. Then down at his own hands. "We all did this to him," he whispered, a tear rolling off his nose and down onto Kyle's face.

"Kenny..." Stan said, motioning towards Kyle, who's nose scrunched lightly, eyes opening slightly.

"Kyle!" Kenny exclaimed excitedly.

Green eyes locked into his tiredly, a small smile creeping along a scarred face. "Kenny..." he whispered, slumping exhaustedly in his grip.

"What, what?" he exclaimed. "I'm here, Kyle, stay with me!"

"Angel...mine...," he smiled before his eyes closed again, falling limp in Kenny's grasp.

"K-Kyle?" Kenny said, panicking at the feeling in his heart. "Kyle wake up!"

"Oh no..." Stan fell back, watching as Kenny shook the boy in his arms, tears falling down both their faces.

"Kyle don't leave me now!" Kenny shouted. "Please!"

A hand fell on his shoulder, ceasing his shaking. He looked up to see Nate looking at him with welling eyes. "Don't," he shook his head. "Kyle gave you his final word. You should...rejoice in that," he forced a smile in his grieving. "He was a special boy, everything he said had meaning...He apparently found you to be his angel. That's something precious, Kenny."

"No it's not!" Kenny shouted angrily. "I've always been this stupid so-called angel, and now my only real friend reinforces that idea and I'm supposed to be happy about it?"

"You are his angel, though," Nate insisted, having Kenny lie Kyle's body on the ground. He grasped his arm gently. "These bangles," he pointed to the burned gold around his wrists. "Kyle wouldn't let anybody touch these, let alone wear them..." he reached down, grabbing Kyle's arm, hesitating for only a moment before sliding off the remaining two bracelets and handing them to Kenny.

"What are you-"

"Take these. Take these to remember Kyle. And that horrid priest. Remember that were it not for his trusting in you, he never would have made this kind of impact on the people of this city," he smiled. "You watched over Kyle in his time of need. Now you can rest assured that he'll do the same for you over your lifetime," he got onto his feet, looking back at the band of gypsies behind him. "I think these boys need a private session with Kyle, yes? We'll come back for him soon." He began leading the gypsies, followed blankly by the remaining people back towards town.

Kenny and Stan looked at each other before staring down at the boy lying beneath them and heaving heavy sighs. Kenny slid the bangles onto his arm, watching the gold glisten dully in the dawn's light. He looked to watch the smoldering barn for a few moments, feeling a breeze of cool air pass over his face as he looked beyond that, out towards the horizon in the distance.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never seen this little before," Kenny whispered. "From my tower, I could see everything...now...now I feel like I'm..."

"Trapped?"

"Alone," he corrected quietly.

Stan was silent for a moment before getting to his feet, holding his hand out to him. "You're not."

Kenny looked up at him in astonishment for a moment before taking his help and getting to his feet. "Why would you-"

"Because Kyle was right. You're worth more than what I thought. And...you did for him what I couldn't. You helped both of us get somewhere where we needed to be. Him in salvation at last, and myself finally at mercy's feet," he smirked crookedly. "Kyle wouldn't want us grieving. He'd want us to keep on spreading his word. He's going to be watching over us, ya know. He'd want to see that we're doing the right thing."

Kenny slowly broke into a smile, both of them looking down at Kyle's content form and taking deep breaths. They looked back at each other and a twinkle passed through Kenny's eyes. "All for us, an angel in our shadows."

A/N: So originally I was going to have Kenny bring Kyle back to life and make it all sappy-Disney stuff but then I was like NAH LET'S KILL SOMEONE ELSE BECAUSE IT'S FUN.

And because I wanted the personification of the angel to pass from Ken to Kyle. Because the title. Get it? Angels. Plural. Cuz I can idek I'm rambling.

Thanks for R&Ring guys and sorry it took so long for such a short story!