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Ash cast a glance over his shoulder as he entered River Walk Cemetery. There was no reason for anyone to be here, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching him.
Coming at night was a mistake, but it had been a toss-up between jumping at shadows and risking someone from town seeing him.
A breeze rose up, bringing the sharp chill of winter with it, and Ash drew his arms around himself, careful not to crush the flowers in his hand. He'd been lucky that his jacket had still been in the Delta--and he'd be forever thankful to the Wise Man for whatever that spell was he'd pulled outta his ass to keep the car and everything in it from deteriorating during his six-hundred-year 'nap'--but he could already knew that it wasn't going to be enough for the coming months.
He walked through the rows of headstones. He vaguely remembered getting dragged here once or twice as a kid to see his grandmother's grave. That was his best bet... if he could remember where it was.
It took more headstone checking and backtracking than he'd anticipated before he finally saw what he'd come for.
"Hey, there you are." He couched down and ran his fingers over the engraving:
Cheryl Williams
1962-1982
You will always be my sunshine.
"Always knew you were his favorite, Cher." If he'd died at the cabin, he could only guess what Dad would've put on his headstone, but 'fucking disappointment' was bound to be in there somewhere. Ash laid the flowers on her grave. "Sorry they're not nicer. I wanted to get ya roses or something but, ah, you ever look at flower prices? They're ridiculous, and I'm... I'm between jobs right now." He sat down in the grass, hugging his legs to his chest and trying to keep in as much warmth as he could. "Mr. Smart fired me. Can you believe that? Been there since I was sixteen and I get the kick for destruction of merchandise while tryin' to save everybody there. Least I got witnesses the lady went 'nuts' or I'd have a real murder charge hanging over my head instead of just... accusations..."
He stared at the grave. It was impossible to tell if the ground had been dug up or if Dad only paid to have the headstone placed there. If it was him, he didn't think Dad would bother shelling out the money to bury an empty casket.
God, he wished he could've brought back something to be buried. He made the mistake of closing his eyes, he could see her against his eyelids. The fireplace poker in her hand. The flesh pealing from her face above him, the first sign as she started to fucking melt. The twang and thud of the poker entering the floor inches from his face.
Fuck. Of all the times for her aim to be off... He dug his palm against his eyelids until he saw spots instead.
"I never should've brought you there, never should've brought Linda. Should've told Scott to fuck off when he told me about the cabin. Should've stuck to the original plan and just rented a place. You never would've agreed if I'd told you we were breaking in." What would've happened if they'd never gone there? If he'd never gone to the cabin? Because it was all him, wasn't it? Annie told him her dad had found the Necronomicon in the ruins of Castle Kandar but he'd brought it there for it to be found but if it hadn't been there to be found, he never would've been in the position that caused him to get sucked into the time/space rift to go to Kandar and get the book and bring it there and fuck. It was a circle. And it was all him. Because it was always him and had always been him and it would always be him and--and--
Had he been drunk when he'd agreed to go to that damn cabin? High? He wished he was high or drunk now. Anything to get him out of his own head for a little while.
He'd be lying if said there wasn't a small part of him that was worried about that.
But, God, that sounded better than this.
Would it be worth sneaking into town to try to get to one of his stashes? Wasn't like he could afford to buy anything new. Or knew anybody who'd still be willing to sell to him, even if he had the money. Chet might bring him something if he asked but Chet had taken Cheryl's death as hard as he had and the wheels might've finally fallen off there but he was too much of a coward to actually talk to him to find out. But there should still be a few joints at the high school and the janitor forgot to lock the door by the stairs nine out of ten nights. He first found that out when Linda B. forgot something in her locker. Hell if he remembered what it had been, but she'd let him get to second base for that. He smiled against his knees, letting himself get lost in that memory for a minute. It helped warm him up.
Until the breeze turned into a gusty wind that sent shivers through him, and he huddled down more. It didn't do much to stop the cold from leaching further into his clothes but his only other option was going to sit in his car, which would also be fucking cold at this point. He could run the heater while he drove back out of town, but he'd been trying to be sparing with that and it would just get cold again once he stopped.
And maybe it'd be easier to stay sitting here by his sister's headstone and wait to stop feeling cold.
"Ashley?"
Ash raised his head slightly, only to have a flashlight blind him and knock him off his train of thought. "Hey! Watch it!" The beam moved out of his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Me?" He moved to get up. "What are--" He was halfway up one second and faceplanting the next. He was vaguely aware he was being cursed out before a hand grabbed his arm to help him up. As soon as he was standing up, the hand vanished from his arm. Pins and needles were running up and down his legs.
He hadn't thought he'd been sitting there that long.
It was silent. Maybe he'd imagined--
"Ashley."
Fuck. He was not turning around. "Whatcha want, Dad?"
"I want to know what yer doing to your sister's grave. It's bad enough I had to bury an empty casket, don't need you desecrating--"
"Desecrating?!" Ash swung around. "I was bringing her flowers!" His real hand curled into a fist when the flashlight actually shone towards the grave to check. Did Dad really think he would--? What point would there be in that? Even if he had actually killed her, what would be the fucking point?
"And you think that makes it all better or something?"
No. Nothing could make it better. Nothing would ever make it better. "...I just wanted to bring her flowers."
"Okay, you did that, now get away from her."
He swallowed, glancing back at the headstone. It wasn't her. She wasn't here. "Bye, Cheryl." He could feel his dad's eyes on him. Judging, heavy. He didn't look at him as he walked past, wrapping his arms around himself as the wind picked up again.
There was a rustling behind him. He ignored it.
He hadn't gone far when he sensed something at his back. Before panic could fully kick in, something--soft, warm--settled over his back and shoulders. What? He glanced down at the heavy coat and at Dad's back as he stalked by with one less layer. His good hand grasped at the front of it, proving to himself it was there.
"Dad?"
"Don't." He paused. "Don't come back again, Ashley."