Waiting for His Return
Austin had gotten no answers. Nobody knew what had happened to the school, nobody knew when or if it would come back, nothing. So the grim reaper had done the only thing he could think of. He had set up camp right outside the area the school used to be and was waiting for it to show up again. Yeah he was worried. A tiny little voice in the back of his head kept whispering evil things, picturing his son--the only person in this entire jackin’ world that he still loved--dead. No, not dissipated. He could handle him getting dissipated a few times with no problem, but sometimes dissipating led to other things...
He’d never been a boogey. He’d never seen the logic in it. They put their lives at risk daily and made pittance in seeds. But he knew a couple of them. One of his old pals from high school had been one, and one time when he dissipated he hadn’t come back as a reaper, he’d come back as a ghost. He didn’t remember who he was, didn’t remember Austin, or any of the old gang... he was living somewhere up north now, trying to figure out why he felt so empty whenever he heard certain songs.
He could lose his son in that same way. Austin knew it, and ever since he’d seen that whip mark across his boil’s back, it had been gnawing at him. There was nothing he could do about it, though. He could only sit here on this jackin’ log, roasting a marshmallow over a tiny fire and watching the spot where the school had once been, waiting for it to come back. For Roch to come back.
There was a bag of things next to the tent. Presents for Christmastival. Stupid s**t, stuff he would have never thought of getting the kid before taking him out on vacation. Glow in the dark stickers, T-shirts with stupid sayings, a couple of bottles of hair dye, some bracelets, a ring. Truth, he had no clue why his kid liked this sort of stuff, but... hell, as long as he wasn’t smoking or doing drugs, or something, he wasn’t going to complain.
“Still not back, huh?” The voice wasn’t the most welcome one, but he wasn’t surprised. Austin turned, looking at his father with a scowl.
“Yeah, still not back.”
“Christmastival is coming up...”
“I know.”
“Monica... ah... wanted to invite you and the kid over. Said she wanted to try out a real family dinner,” Vegas said a bit hesitantly, fingering the cigar he was holding. “She’s kind of a ditz, but...”
“She’s my age, or younger, you know,” Austin drawled. “So you gonna adopt her?”
“She’s older than that. Undead, they don’t age that much, y’know?” Vegas said.
“Gonna marry her, then?”
Vegas crossed over, sitting down on another fallen log and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Tell me something,” he said to his son. “WHY does the kid like a ghoul like that?”
“Who knows how long it will last,” Austin said. “I doubt he still does, to be honest.”
“But she still shows his tastes. Wimpy, pushover, lacking the guts to deal with a real man, she didn’t love him, she barely knew what to do with him as a friend,” Vegas said callously.
“Roch ain’t a real man yet,” Austin said, turning his stick to brown his marshmallow.
“So he’s just gonna keep bringing us mealy mouthed little ghouls to try and deal with? I ain’t never been good with kid gloves.” Vegas snorted, taking a long drag off of his cigar. “I blame this on you, you know.”
“What, I should have forced him to deal with that witch you were married to last? Personally I like his taste better than your old one. How the hell did you wind up with a ghoul like Monica, anyway? She doesn’t look like she could flay you to death with a look.”
Vegas shrugged. “She chased me, and I was too old to run.”
“There’s no point in bitchin’ about his taste in women,” Austin said, looking over at the empty lot. “Not when all I really care about is him comin’ home at all.”
“Nah, he’ll be back,” Vegas said. “Then we’ll have to talk to him about women.”
“Let him like who he wants to like, there’s no sin in liking sweet ghouls,” Austin said, blowing on his marshmallow and pulling it off the stick. “Hell, he’s only sixteen. Ain’t like he’s going to marry them.”
“And a DEMON,” Vegas went on. “Why the hell would anyone want a demon ghoulfriend?”
“Eh, like you said, she didn’t like him back. He’ll find a nice little reaper or monster or undead or something--“
“Monster? You’d let him date a monster? How the hell would that work--“
Austin grinned, evilly. “I’m definitely dating a monster sometime,” he drawled evilly.
“I don’t give a s**t about who YOU’RE dating,” Vegas said. “I already got my grandkid--weird a** taste in clothes, strange taste in women, but still good looking.”
“He is good looking, isn’t he?” Austin bragged, smirking.
“When the school comes back, tell him about the dinner,” Vegas said, looking at the bag of presents. “You aren’t goin’ anywhere, are you?”
Austin looked at the empty lot again. The answer was clear.
“Monica will be by, I’m sure,” Vegas added, staring at the empty lot as well.
“This is the part where you leave,” Austin told him after a long, silent moment.
“Nah, I have some free time.”
Austin gave him a dirty look. They were silent, until Vegas snapped off a stick from the tree he was laying on and summoned his dagger to sharpen the end. “Pass me the marshmallows,” he said.
“Go buy your own,” Austin drawled, poking another one onto his own stick. Vegas speared the bag of marshmallows with his stick, dragging it to his side of the fire to grab one of them.
“I got an offer,” the old man said, starting to roast his marshmallow, “from an old friend of mine. He runs Grimm’s School for Misguided Reapers--“
“Jack no,” Austin said, looking shocked at the very thought. “Hell if I’m stickin’ my kid in one of those places!”
“Hear me out,” Vegas said. “Sure it sounds like hell, but I ain’t ever heard of THEIR school goin’ missing out of the middle of nowhere. Or coverin’ up somethin that might or might not involve Hunters. The chances of our kid--“
“MY kid.”
“ROCH comin’ home with whip wounds across his back are a hell of a lot slimmer. Sure they might shave his head, making him wake up at jackawful hours, stuff like that, but...” Vegas motioned to the empty lot. “That wouldn’t happen.”
Austin went silent, staring at the place where the school he had gone to should have been.
“I’ll think about it.”
He’d never been a boogey. He’d never seen the logic in it. They put their lives at risk daily and made pittance in seeds. But he knew a couple of them. One of his old pals from high school had been one, and one time when he dissipated he hadn’t come back as a reaper, he’d come back as a ghost. He didn’t remember who he was, didn’t remember Austin, or any of the old gang... he was living somewhere up north now, trying to figure out why he felt so empty whenever he heard certain songs.
He could lose his son in that same way. Austin knew it, and ever since he’d seen that whip mark across his boil’s back, it had been gnawing at him. There was nothing he could do about it, though. He could only sit here on this jackin’ log, roasting a marshmallow over a tiny fire and watching the spot where the school had once been, waiting for it to come back. For Roch to come back.
There was a bag of things next to the tent. Presents for Christmastival. Stupid s**t, stuff he would have never thought of getting the kid before taking him out on vacation. Glow in the dark stickers, T-shirts with stupid sayings, a couple of bottles of hair dye, some bracelets, a ring. Truth, he had no clue why his kid liked this sort of stuff, but... hell, as long as he wasn’t smoking or doing drugs, or something, he wasn’t going to complain.
“Still not back, huh?” The voice wasn’t the most welcome one, but he wasn’t surprised. Austin turned, looking at his father with a scowl.
“Yeah, still not back.”
“Christmastival is coming up...”
“I know.”
“Monica... ah... wanted to invite you and the kid over. Said she wanted to try out a real family dinner,” Vegas said a bit hesitantly, fingering the cigar he was holding. “She’s kind of a ditz, but...”
“She’s my age, or younger, you know,” Austin drawled. “So you gonna adopt her?”
“She’s older than that. Undead, they don’t age that much, y’know?” Vegas said.
“Gonna marry her, then?”
Vegas crossed over, sitting down on another fallen log and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Tell me something,” he said to his son. “WHY does the kid like a ghoul like that?”
“Who knows how long it will last,” Austin said. “I doubt he still does, to be honest.”
“But she still shows his tastes. Wimpy, pushover, lacking the guts to deal with a real man, she didn’t love him, she barely knew what to do with him as a friend,” Vegas said callously.
“Roch ain’t a real man yet,” Austin said, turning his stick to brown his marshmallow.
“So he’s just gonna keep bringing us mealy mouthed little ghouls to try and deal with? I ain’t never been good with kid gloves.” Vegas snorted, taking a long drag off of his cigar. “I blame this on you, you know.”
“What, I should have forced him to deal with that witch you were married to last? Personally I like his taste better than your old one. How the hell did you wind up with a ghoul like Monica, anyway? She doesn’t look like she could flay you to death with a look.”
Vegas shrugged. “She chased me, and I was too old to run.”
“There’s no point in bitchin’ about his taste in women,” Austin said, looking over at the empty lot. “Not when all I really care about is him comin’ home at all.”
“Nah, he’ll be back,” Vegas said. “Then we’ll have to talk to him about women.”
“Let him like who he wants to like, there’s no sin in liking sweet ghouls,” Austin said, blowing on his marshmallow and pulling it off the stick. “Hell, he’s only sixteen. Ain’t like he’s going to marry them.”
“And a DEMON,” Vegas went on. “Why the hell would anyone want a demon ghoulfriend?”
“Eh, like you said, she didn’t like him back. He’ll find a nice little reaper or monster or undead or something--“
“Monster? You’d let him date a monster? How the hell would that work--“
Austin grinned, evilly. “I’m definitely dating a monster sometime,” he drawled evilly.
“I don’t give a s**t about who YOU’RE dating,” Vegas said. “I already got my grandkid--weird a** taste in clothes, strange taste in women, but still good looking.”
“He is good looking, isn’t he?” Austin bragged, smirking.
“When the school comes back, tell him about the dinner,” Vegas said, looking at the bag of presents. “You aren’t goin’ anywhere, are you?”
Austin looked at the empty lot again. The answer was clear.
“Monica will be by, I’m sure,” Vegas added, staring at the empty lot as well.
“This is the part where you leave,” Austin told him after a long, silent moment.
“Nah, I have some free time.”
Austin gave him a dirty look. They were silent, until Vegas snapped off a stick from the tree he was laying on and summoned his dagger to sharpen the end. “Pass me the marshmallows,” he said.
“Go buy your own,” Austin drawled, poking another one onto his own stick. Vegas speared the bag of marshmallows with his stick, dragging it to his side of the fire to grab one of them.
“I got an offer,” the old man said, starting to roast his marshmallow, “from an old friend of mine. He runs Grimm’s School for Misguided Reapers--“
“Jack no,” Austin said, looking shocked at the very thought. “Hell if I’m stickin’ my kid in one of those places!”
“Hear me out,” Vegas said. “Sure it sounds like hell, but I ain’t ever heard of THEIR school goin’ missing out of the middle of nowhere. Or coverin’ up somethin that might or might not involve Hunters. The chances of our kid--“
“MY kid.”
“ROCH comin’ home with whip wounds across his back are a hell of a lot slimmer. Sure they might shave his head, making him wake up at jackawful hours, stuff like that, but...” Vegas motioned to the empty lot. “That wouldn’t happen.”
Austin went silent, staring at the place where the school he had gone to should have been.
“I’ll think about it.”
Not for points, but plot!
