Chapter Text
When Sal came charging at Larry like a bullet, Ashley was forced to snap out of her crying spell. After she proceeded to watch Sal Fisher kick Larry Johnson in the stomach then tackle him to the ground. Ashley went wide-eyed, she had never seen Sal so angry before. Besides the only time the two of them ever argued she had never seen Sal rustled by anything. Nevertheless, the man in the orange prison jacket proceeded to slap Larry in the face who was just as surprised by his outburst.
“Three years! Three years Larry, and I was stuck here doing. . .nothing! I had nothing! Do you know what they served every Wednesday for lunch! Bologna sandwiches! Until I was given special meal privileges I had to pay inmates to take it off my hands since we could not waste food!” Larry tried to get away but Sal was mad and not moving for anyone. He liked his spot sitting across Larry, who was at that point struggling like a child underneath him. All that time in Prison definitely put a good amount of muscle on Sal, which surprised both Ashley and Larry. He wasn’t exactly buff but wasn’t a twig either. The fight between the two brothers only escalated as Sal was giving Larry no time to provide an escalation. The girl in the room just kept quiet while also keeping an eye peered for any incoming staff members.
“Ow! You’re crazy, get off me!” Larry was then kicking desperately at Sal who was struggling to hold him by the shirt. After a second Sal took a momentary break to slip off his mask before pelting Larry with it. “You’re hitting me with your prosthetic?! Ow--Ashley! He’s hitting me with his mask! Make him stop!” Upon the mention of Ashley, Sal changed his expression to one of surprise, as if his anger at Larry had kept him from fully seeing her. When he came to, he slipped his mask back on while keeping steady eye contact with her. He got up and stepped over Larry as if he wasn’t even there.
“Ashley. . .” He began. Big blue eyes stared up at her like they were seeing her for the very first time. She had played such a pivotal role in his life, especially in the trial. To him, Ashley wasn’t someone who was against him, despite her testimony. What she said was that she wanted him alive, and she was the only one in his trial who held that opinion. Larry threw his hands up in frustration at Sal’s sudden switch in mood while Sal himself just kept his eyes on the cute and lovely Ashley. A lump of guilt caught her throat while she struggled to express her sniffling. He was really back. He was really there. “. . .Hi,” he whispered. Ashley cleared her throat.
“Ahem. Sal, I-I am so s. . .sorry I didn’t believe you, and I know--”
“Stop,” he ordered, throwing his hands in front of him in protest. Sal shook his head in disapproval. “You believed I did it because I did. I didn’t tell you my story until the day you testified, and even so, you still held the opinion that I shouldn’t die because of my choice. The picture of Larry’s ghost was the last idea it had but it wasn’t the only one. I did see you on the news for the last three years. . .I knew you were trying. You even repealed my case--more than once at that.” He paused and put his hand on his heart to intensify his gratitude. “Thank you, Ash.” His lack of disappointment was more than unexpected and left Ashley ultimately bewildered and speechless. Within her own heart she knew that even if Sal were to ever be upset at her it would never have been for too long. Maybe it was because he had no mother, or just because he was gentle, but Sal Fisher always treated women like queens. Larry got up and wiped his bloody nose.
“I have something for you Sal,” He said when bringing out a purple stone from his pocket. Sal’s nose scrunched under his mask bringing it up a slight bit.
“What’s that?”
“It’s called the deadstone. Rosenberg’s ghost gave it to me the day of the red eyes infestation. If you squeeze it you can temporarily use its power to leave your place of death.” Sal gave a skeptical look before rubbing his fingers across the stone with interest.
“Are you sure?”
“Well, no. She did something different to me."
“. . .How long does it last?”
“It varies.”
“Why do you want me to leave?” Sal persisted. Being spiritually asleep for so long it made sense that he was on edge. Tense. Distrusting. He chewed the side of his mouth as he reluctantly watched Ashley attempt to explain.
“Sal. . .things aren’t what they’re supposed to be. We think--”
“I’m assuming Larry told you that the Dr.Enon that declared me a liar was an imposter.”
“What?” Ashley asked, turning around. Larry shrugged.
“How was I supposed to know? Did he come back? Ashley, he died at the foot of the treehouse. He fell out after seeing me as a ghost. Didn’t you know that?” Ashley was frozen, then she was yelling, causing Sal to jolt. His crossed arms just tightened as she flailed about.
“Know that--OF COURSE! OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T! That’s why the imposter said he didn’t see you!” She then turned to Sal with a tinge of pity in her stance. Of course Sal Fisher had told the truth. That’s the sort of man he was and the sort of man he had always been. Instead of getting all riled up however, he just stared at the ground in contempt.
“Well, we can’t do anything about it now.”
“Yes, we can actually. You might not be coming back but there’s something you can help us with,” Larry said stepping forward. He fixed his posture and Ash backed away so he could stand in front of Sal. “We have reason to believe that Chug and Soda weren’t infected by the Red-Eyes curse. There also might be a way for you to come back. The Devourers of God have a goal to provide a wandering spirit with a body, and they’ve succeeded. It’s not so much of a stretch to believe that they can also bring back the dead, and and Todd has been in communion with their subject for the last three years. You’re probably the only person who can reach him. If you do--”
“Then we can find out how to bring back Chug and Soda, maybe even--”
“Fine,” Sal said. He unwillingly crammed the stone as hard as he could between his two hands while holding his breath. After a few moments there was a purple aura emanating from the stone, and he held it up to the light. “The heck is going on with this thing, is it broken?” He asked rhetorically, before flicking the stone with a free hand.
“That means it’s working,” Larry nodded. After the aura faded, Sal tossed the stone back to Larry and turned to the girl.
“Should I try leaving the room?”
“Yeah, my bike is outside.” Larry and Sal followed Ashley out the door and to Sal’s surprise, the stone had worked. He was so glad to finally be out of that room The three walked quietly through the halls before Larry and Sal floated past the receptionist. Officer Nellie stopped breathing, and the trio stopped dead in their tracks. Sal and Larry had forgotten to become invisible after leaving the execution room and then all throughout the hallway.The whole lobby was silent for a good thirty seconds. Nobody dared to move. Officer Nellie wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to call.
"Achoo!"
Larry had just sneezed, causing Officer Nellie to faint in her chair at the realization that there were two ghosts in front of her. Sal just put his hands on his hips while Ashley covered her mouth. There was another, much shorter silence before Sal found himself growing tired at the scenery.
“Well, we should get out of here before she wakes up.”
“Sal!” Ashley snapped. When she turned around Sal was already opening the door while Larry was following him. The brunette brother turned around to the exasperated female.
“I’m with Sal on this one. It’ll get worse if you wake her.” Even while arguing the two thought alike. Nothing could fully separate them it seemed. Ashley scoffed and rolled her eyes before walking towards the door, eyes locked on her bike. Sal watched her walk dangerously close to him with a sense of wonder. He hadn’t seen her as close as she did while walking past him in a very long time. When Sal closed the door, he found Larry standing next to the bike with his hands in his pockets--like usual. “Well Sal,” he sighed, “I can walk there. Only one of us can sit on the bike and Ashley has a lot to talk with you about.”
“Where are we going?”
“My apartment,” Ashley answered, putting on her helmet. She sat on her bike before patting the back seat with her right hand. “Turn yourself invisible and hop on. My brother leaves his clothes at my place. You can get a new change and a place to sleep. I think we still have a GameBoy too.” Absolutely heartwarming. Sal Fisher nodded and immediately turned fully ghost on Ashley, fading like a simple cloud. She felt him hop on and his arms wrap around her torso like they did three years prior. That’s when it hit both of them that they really haven’t seen each other in three years. They haven’t ridden Ashley’s bike since 2003. Hearts became heavy very quickly, and Larry patted Sal’s back in an effort to encourage him in his unusually intimate friendship with Ashley.
“Don’t worry, you’re still a smooth criminal, Sally Face. In fact, you don’t look a day over 22,” Larry whispered.
“I’m 25,” Sal snapped through gritted teeth. Although Larry was right, he did look a bit young. If prison would do one thing for him, Sal would want it to have been to make him look a little more mature. Larry put up his hands and frowned at his companion's deadly tone. Ashley wasn’t even a year older than Sal, but Sal’s complex about his height made his physical maturity a very touchy subject for him. The only thing he had to compensate for being two inches shorter was his voice. Larry backed away and watched Ashley hit the gas. Then the two were off. The ride was short, but it gave the two a long time to think. Well, there wasn’t so much thinking as there was reminiscing. The bright blue cloudless sky made the air all the more fresher, and then they passed Wendigo Lake which made them both smile softly.
Then, Sal remembered something about the trial. When asked about their trip to Wendigo Lake as a date, Ashley didn’t deny that it was a date. Sal was surprised and a little confused at this revelation, but he had no time to consider what that meant before he was in the garage of Ashley’s apartment building. She stopped the bike and took off her helmet, shaking her helmet hair like a messy dog would shake after a bath.
“What room are we in?” Sal asked. Ashley slipped him a sly grin.
“Room 402.”
“Of course,” he chuckled. Walking behind Ashley without her noticing made Sal feel a little creepy, even more so than the fact that the receptionist had no idea he was there. When walking up the stairs Sal noticed that Ashley had scrapes on her leg.
“Whoa, were you biking in the forest?” He unthinkingly joked.
“SHH!” She spat. Of course. Someone might hear him. In actuality she had received those scratch-like marks from sitting down on the floor of the tree-house for so long. Of course, she would never tell Sal that. When on Ashley’s floor, Sal finally realized how normal her home looked when compared to Addison Apartments. She opened the door to a clean and tidy apartment that had Ashley Campbell written all over it. It was almost comical.
The biker boots that Ashley never wore were sitting by the door flopped over. The carpet was worn but a very nice shade of purple. When Ashley locked the door behind her, Sal took a moment and walked to the kitchen. There was tape on her counter that was supposed to keep her from biting her nails. Of course it looked like she hadn’t touched the roll of tape in a few days. In fact, it looked to Sal like she hadn’t been in her apartment at all since. . .around his execution. Despair choked his throat dry so that he didn’t comment on his observations. Ashley head directly to the fridge and chucked cold cuts onto the table before viciously opening a plastic container of sliced ham with her teeth. Sal watched on with his hands behind his back, feeling a bit out of place.
“MMM. . .Food ish sho goof saw!(a/n: *Food is so good sal, for those who can’t speak gibberish)” Ashley cried. The man’s eyes darted back and forth before leaning in closer.
“Have you. . .have you not been eating for the last three days?” Ashley paused before harboring a defensive tone at Sal, then swallowing while moving the cheese and meats farther out of Sal’s reach.
“. . .I’ve been drinking.” Sal sighed and crossed his arms, letting his eyes explore the apartment for the very first time. Soon enough his eyes caught themselves in the reflection of the toaster. He had grown a little, measuring up to maybe 5’5 at the most, being that he was a very late bloomer in when he actually hit puberty. Even so, three inches in height felt like it wasn’t nearly enough growth to cover all of the time that passed in prison. To Sal, it felt like so much longer than three years, to the point that he felt he didn’t belong in the real world. The real world just felt so surreal to him that he felt he didn’t belong there anymore. It posed the question of where would he belong? His mood dulled at the disheartening thought. Before becoming too lost in the idea, Ashley turned around, and subsequently shocking him out of his melancholy daze.
“--Sal! Earth to Fisher!”
“Wuh?”
“There you are.I was asking if you wanted to take a shower? Ben left some of his clothes here last time he visited.”
“Oh sure.” As Sal spun around to search for the shower, Ashley stopped him.
“Wait,” she ordered. He halted. “Do ghosts even need to shower?” Sal paused for a moment before responding in a questioning voice.
“Uh, why would being a ghost keep me from getting dirty?” Ashley cocked her head to the side momentarily before nodding in acknowledgement.
“You’re right. I’ll leave the clothes outside the shower. There should be some towels in there.” Sal walked off and with each step her voice subsequently became more distant. It was also softened by the excruciating buzzing in his head. The ringing. The blaring white noise. It was coming from the other side and while he could step further to the other side by slipping out of visibility, he vouched not to. The horrific tension from the ghost realm only made it less appealing to him. He wanted to be with Ashley. His thoughts were interrupted by the bathroom door which stuck out to him from the corner of his eye. He flicked on the light switch and could feel himself smirk against the plastic of his mask. There was purple everywhere. Purple and black.
Above the towels hung a painting so beautifully articulate that even Ashley’s greatest admirer assumed it had been done by a professional. Well, he would have except for the fact that the contents of the painting consisted of Wendigo Lake as well as two small friends sitting in the distance, staring on. One brunette, one with blue hair. His eyes darted to Ashley’s signature in the Top right hand corner--small, but noticeable against the pale blue sky. Sometime within the period of time that Sal Fisher had spent in confinement, Ashley Campbell had taken upon herself to create something beautiful. . .that had a criminal in the picture. Sal looked away, for he felt remorse shoot him in the liver despite having nothing to do with the creation of the painting.
Once he stepped into the shower Sal let out a heavy sigh of relief. The water droplets dragging across his sin seemed to massage the inside of his soul. It was absolutely rejuvenating. Sadly it felt to him that no shower could make him clean as long as he took it in prison. While in prison he would often scrub the same spots until he was asked to leave the showers, or until an inmate noticed him bleeding. He just always felt dirty. It probably had something to do with him murdering several of his close friends. Sal put his face in his hands and took a shaky breath. All this time he still hoped deep down that this was all a nightmare. The last four years were just a nightmare, right? It was a stupidly unrealistic thought but it was the only thought he had that could give him some sort of peace.
After washing his hair and face he turned off the water and opened the shower curtain to find that Ashley had thrown in his attire and collected his laundry while he was wallowing in his own shame. She always took care of him that way, and the alien feeling of being taken care of stung his chest and eyes. He blinked away the tears of gratitude and pulled up red boxer shorts. They were a bit long but they fit fine. Under was a black band tee that was just as large in the shorts but again, he could fit into it. Sal made a note to find out where Ash’s brother found such stylish outfits because he was certainly loving what he saw in the mirror. That was mostly because he hadn’t looked up to grimace at his own face. Ever since his crime he hadn’t looked at his own face without immediately shielding his eyes with his hand and turning to the side.
Sal walked out after strapping his mask on to wander around the apartment quietly. He found Ashley’s room ajar and leaned to peak in. That’s when he kicked the door to the side and began to walk in with a surprising amount of thrill coursing through his body. Ashley had kept Sal’s guitar. He didn’t know why--he was the musician, she was the artist. Nonetheless, he saw she had kept his amp as well, and it looked as if she had been cleaning both items on a regular basis. One of the most devastating parts of prison was that he had not played his precious stratocaster for the past three years. Not a single chord, not a single note. It was probably way out of tune, but he didn’t care. Filled with wonder and excitement he took the guitar and bounced onto Ashley’s bed, taking the time to just look at it. It was his everything in that moment.
“I kept your guitar,” Ashley commented looking a bit sheepish in front of her own door which looked to have been closed for a while. Sal jolted to the direction of her voice before relaxing his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He just looked to the side, unsure of what to say. The calm gave them both enough to think, and once they had done so they realized how incredibly damper the mood was for so long. Trying to relax became more stressful than remaining tense and distressed as they’ve done so for three years. Ashley walked over stiffly and sat on the bed on Sal’s side, noticeably distant from him. “I. . .I know you don’t like coffee so I’m making tea if you want some.”
“Thank you,” he spoke, nearly whispering. She nodded and crossed her legs, shifting to his direction. Sal didn’t move. Ashley looked him up and down, noticing tattoos that wrapped around his arms. There were some on his hands and knuckles as well. There was a blue jay on his arm surrounded by clouds and some dates in roman numerals across his knuckles. It was the date Larry died. They were decent looking for prison tattoos despite being obviously unprofessional. She knew that Sal would one day act on his dream of getting tattooed, but she wished that it had been done outside prison walls. Ashley opened her mouth to speak.
“I--”
“Ashley why would you paint that?” Of course she knew what he was referring to. He didn’t even need to look at her, as the way her breath hitched was an indicator that she had panicked a bit.
“Well, I. . .wanted to paint it.”
“Yeah but why was I in it?” He pushed. Ashley pulled her shirt over her mouth and leaned her elbow on her knee, visibly embarrassed of her reasoning. If Sal wasn’t wearing his mask she would see a look of both confusion and intrigue.
“You know, I’ve tried going back to the lake. It seems that. . .that day is when it was most beautiful to me.” Even without knowing the obvious implications Sal was incredibly moved by her soft and shaky words. There was literally nothing special about that day except the fact that he had been sitting next to her. The weather was usual. The lake was usual. It was an incredibly ordinary outing but they made it fun and. . .beautiful. Ashley’s face heated up the longer the silence was drawn out, and Sal began to strum the guitar. It made barely any sound as it wasn’t plugged in, but it was loud enough to snap Ashley out of her humiliation.
“So,” He began. “Why do you think we can bring back Chug and Soda?” Ashley immediately regained her composure and she sat back up while Sal began to tune his guitar by ear. He was still incredibly skilled at it, and would brag to Larry how it was like riding a bike after the first time he got it right.
“Larry is the one who suggested the idea. The say of the Red-Eyes Infestation he saw everyone from the otherside while you two were running around the apartments uplifting the curse, right?” Sal blinked at her with interest.
“Yeah?”
“Well, when Larry saw them, they looked different from the other souls. Everyone who was infected had had these glowing eyes and was flooded with this black webbing. Chug and Soda just looked normal, almost like ghosts--” She was interrupted by Sal who had let his guitar hang, bringing his hands to cover his false mouth. He was hunched over, shaking with disbelief and horror because he had realized the full implications. If Ashley was right, there was no need for him to have murdered Chug and Soda. He did have a choice. Ashley quickly picked up, not wanting to let Sal have enough time to let the facts ruin him more than they already have.
“. . .Anyways, I know there must be a way to bring them here from the other side if that’s really what The Devourers of God have been doing. I think it’s somewhere in the tomes but I can’t get into the apartments anymore. Addison Apartments completely shut down after what happened. We need your help.” There was a long silence. Sal was shaking so much that Ashley didn’t know how much he had registered. She slowly removed the guitar from him and as she leaned in she could hear a faint wheezing. After removing his mask, Ashley put her arm around him. “Are you gonna throw up?” She whispered. He nodded in response so she jumped up, dragging her trashcan over to him.
Sal nearly ripped it from her hands, and immediately began puking his lungs out while crying. Seeing him like that tore Ashley’s heart to shreds. He was doubled over in the pain of truth and loss. Barely anything came out of his mouth as ghosts don’t have to eat, but there was some old ghost prison food that came out. After that it was just gagging, retching, and hysterical sobbing. Seeing someone you love cry so desperately in pain is like a knot in your stomach being crushed by an anvil. It sends shivers down your spine with mortification and such a terrifying amount of sheer sadness. That feeling owned Ashley Campbell completely, and she couldn’t do anything.
After a few minutes Sal had begun to calm down. He was still shaking and visibly traumatized but he had stopped gagging. His tears fell slower as he let the depression take over him. They just sat like that, with Ashley’s hand now tightly interlocked with Sal’s, her other hand covering both of theirs. Once Sal had caught his breath he put his hand on hers, which surprised Ashley. He still dare not make eye contact with her, although he had begun to face her.
“We’ll get there through the Phelps Ministry,” he grumbled. Ashley smiled faintly and brought Sal into a tight embrace. He let his arms hang loosely, still overshadowed by his own depression regarding what he had just heard.
“Yes Sal, we’ll do it. Tomorrow we can talk to Travis, it’ll be okay. We’ll get through this Sal, we’ll get through this.” Sal had no response except for closing his eyes and letting a single tear slip under his mask. He just wanted to melt into Ashley and not think about anything else. If he stayed like that he wouldn’t have to think about anything except the reassurance and faith she gave him. There was nothing else like that in the whole world and he thought he could drown in it. The noise seemed so much softer when he could hear her breathing, and know she was alive. He knew she was near. Suddenly he ripped apart from her, the noise of the tea now becoming the loudest.
“You left the stove on!” He exclaimed. Ashley slapped her forehead.
“Oh right, the tea! I’ll go get it!” She bounced up and threw the door open, trying not to trip as she ran down the stairs for the tea. Sal could have smiled to himself at how funny her clumsiness was at any other time. At that moment all he felt was sadness that increased with her distance. Even though she had observed him and interacted with him multiple times while he was unmasked, he felt safer with it on. He couldn’t take it off in prison, so it did feel like he was taking off his own face. After putting it back on, he fell onto the bed, squishing his face into the pillow. There was a lot to be done. He was the only one who knew about the reason for Todd’s mental instability. Sal knitted his brows together in concentration and contemplation.
By learning how the cult had brought the Red-Eyed Demon to the physical realm, there was a possibility that they could use that information to reverse it, banishing the Red-Eyed Demon from Todd’s body. When he realized that, Ashley walked into the room in a timely manner with two steaming mugs in her hands.
“It’s very hot so you’ll have to wait.”
“Todd is possessed by the Red-Eyed Demon,” Sal blurted. Ashley just stared back at him and he continued on. Rambling around Ashley was the closest thing he could get to the way he was a few years prior. “That’s why he’s unstable and why he ran away, Ash. He spoke to me before the police showed up and he described a ritual the cult did to him. They kidnapped him. His eyes are even red now. I know that if we really can learn how they brought him back, maybe we can figure out how to get rid of the Red-Eyes.” There was no movement after that. The woman was too frightened and shocked by the news to even spout a comment or suggestion. Instead Ashley just set down the tea tray before resting her hands on the table in defeat.
“It makes sense,” she admitted. Sal nodded. Ashley turned to him, eyes wet with frustration and emotional exhaustion. “Do you think we can still bring him back after he’s been possessed for so long? That’s why the infestation happened, right? That was over three years ago.” Sal got up and walked over to her, putting a hand around one of the mugs and another on the tray. Ashley was beginning to break. The way she had held it together for most of the day was enough to take a toll on the strongest person in the world, and Sal only admired that. He also felt the urge to put her in his pocket so she could be safe, but it would feel sort of silly to ever tell her that out loud.
“We won’t know until we try now, will we?” Ashley sniffed. It wasn’t that having a mentally insane friend wasn’t traumatizing, but knowing that he shared the body and mind of a demonic creature. . .that was the final blow. She began to hiccup and Sal put his mug down, lightly touching her back and staring with concern in his eyes. At Wendigo Lake she boasted about how she never cried, but ever since she saw Sal executed she was tearing up at nearly everything, and Sal felt entirely responsible. Ashley was of average height but she never looked so small and fragile as when she held herself and stifled her cries in front of Sal. He leaned in and whispered to her. “We’ll get him back.” Being deeply saddened as well, his words didn’t sound very enthusiastic. She just cried harder, and Sal felt himself tearing up all over again. They were on an emotional roller coaster that never ended and it was nauseating.
“Ashley,” he croaked. “Can I sleep here, instead of the couch?” She nodded and brought her hands to his, intertwining their fingers again.
‘Y-yes, just. . .don’t leave me.” She was sobbing again, this time louder, and Sal grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, holding her firmly. If he had held her any tighter it would probably have hurt her. They began to walk to the bed still holding one another, for they feared that if one were to let go the other would truly leave. Ashley clung to Sal like a monkey as he kicked her comforter out of the way before lying down comfortably on the bed, all while wrapped in Ashley. He pulled the blanket over them both and nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing her in above her crying frame. Just as overwhelmed with emotional exhaustion, Sal began to sob into her once more.