This is an idea that I've toyed with (no pun intended) for quite a few years, and I finally decided to place Ash in this position, out of everyone else. I can't promise that I know where this is headed, but hopefully you'll enjoy it all the same.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Evil Dead franchise whatsoever. I also do not own the character Ash Williams, nor do I own the show that's briefly mentioned (Jack of all Trades, for those who are curious). I don't even own the dog that's in this story, because she is not mine. I only own Heather.

Wind whipped around the woods with undeniably harsh force. Roots rose and fell, struggled to free themselves from the earth and made it look as if the ground itself were breathing in the gusts of air. Trees practically bent like tall blades of grass as their leaves caught the wind, many of them ripping off at the stem. There was no storm though, no rain pelted the ground to soften it and there was no thunder trying to roar over the howls of the air. Lightening didn't threaten the trees to catch them on fire, or even any unfortunate souls that were in the woods at the time…not that anyone was out there. No, a hurricane would've been easy to handle, let alone to explain in regards to what was going on. Nothing within the past two days of Ashley Williams' life was easy to explain. All he'd wanted to do, was spend time with his girlfriend, Linda, at an abandoned cabin. And sadly in those two days, the dead began to walk the earth because of some damned book and a few translated words on a tape recorder they'd found. Apparently this book summoned demons that possessed the bodies of the living…and now a whirling vortex that not only sucked away the evil, but was trying to tug him along? His luck was just horrible anymore.

The man gritted his teeth, grasping onto the counter of the cabin that had been his living hell since the moment he and his now dead girlfriend, Linda had set foot there. From killing a woman he loved, to losing his right hand to the deadite menace…it had just not been good for him. The wind tugged his dark hair back from his face, and he could swear it was like there were fingers yanking his head back. The feeling of the counter top ripping had his eyes widening. Holding himself in place with only one hand wasn't fair, and he couldn't help but wince when his fingers slipped as the counter top grew stuck in the doorway of the cabin. No one would believe this. Not one little bit. The chainsaw he'd attached to his right stump was against the countertop, the arm instinctively trying to hold on with a hand that wasn't there. Dark eyes wide and wild, they watched as the cabin itself even start to fall apart.

"How the hell do you turn this thing off!?" Sadly he was yelling to no one, his eyes turning to the body lying on the floor, and even she was scooting as if gravity was now centered around the swirling pool that had formed in the woods. He didn't even remember her name..but apparently her father was the reason for all of this, and she was the cause for this damn vortex. It had apparently destroyed the evil, but now she was dead and he couldn't translate that damn book even if it was around.

He didn't even know where it was.

It was no use in the end, the brunette felt his fingers slip, and soon enough he found himself sucked into a dimensional portal, with no knowledge of where he would end up.

-Elsewhere in the World-

"Luckily I don't have a Cherry Tree"

Were it not for the food in her mouth, she would've burst out laughing. Instead though, air sucked a noodle back into her throat and she began coughing to keep the threat of the food hitting her windpipe at bay. Forcing the swallow, she couldn't help but giggle around the minor choking sputters. A hand over her mouth as she watched her laptop screen. "Yeah, that's exactly what you say so you can bang the President's niece, Bruce." She spoke to no one in particular, green eyes turning their attention to the chat screen on the laptop.

This fuckin' guy. Heather cracked a grin at the comment, letting her fingers click out a reply on the keyboard.

He's killin' me!

It was nice to find someone who could share a love for something, even if she didn't know them completely. It was always a pleasure, for the brunette, to find someone she didn't know, and not only relate to them on their fandoms, but then learn about one another in other aspects. Roleplay and story writing did that for her usually, and this friend on the other side of the screen was not only a lover of all things horror, but a fellow roleplayer who was fond of playing the brave 'Ash Williams' From 'Evil Dead.'

They were taking a day off, both of them mostly relaxing for now, while Heather was waiting to go to work later in the evening while watching the episodes of a show that Bruce Campbell, the original 'Ash Williams', played in. Not only that, but her newest 'Pop Vinyl' figure of Ash settled on the coffee table around all of the DVDs, the bobblehead state with cute eyes almost too much for her and yet she couldn't quite set him with her Tenth Doctor statue just yet.

Her eyes were lidded as she went back to the little television screen, continuing to watch the curious show she'd sadly missed out on while it was airing and giggling to her hearts content.

"What are you, some kind of Mad scientist?"

"No, Only mildly irritated."

God it was so cheesy but hilarious all the same. The woman snickered, only to pause when her phone vibrated. She had a text, but the elusive devise was of course gone. Typical. She sighed, typing a quick brb while turning to the couch and began her search. Sliding her hands under cushions, frowned and jerked back when the skin of her right middle finger caught something sharp. "Ow- what the-?" She lifted the arm rest of the couch, spotting a staple from the upholstery sticking out and making her grimace. The back of her middle finger had a nice line, a bit jagged even as it turned red with blood rising to the surface of her finger. Well that could probably scar. Getting up from between the couch and the coffee table, her knees bumped what she'd used for her desk of sorts and sure enough, her Ash figure wobbled and toppled over, falling to the floor.

A sigh escaped her as she moved around the table, blood steadily winding down her fingertip and brushing the figure when she picked it up. Of course, it'd scratch her dominant hand enough to need a band aid on a day she had to work. With a squint, heather spotted the blood on the vinyl figure's chainsaw, even smearing on his face. "Damn it." She quickly grasped the figurine with her other hand, middle finger to her mouth to lick at the cut and grimacing at the sting to follow. She paused, looking at the cut on his face and the blood that had hit him there. "…Least it looks real." She mumbled, slipping to the bathroom and setting the toy on the bathroom counter, Bruce Campbell's voice played on in the living room from the livestream. "If only you were just as real," she sighed, but grinned and shook her head. Impossible. Nothing fantastical like that would happen even when she turned ninety, if she lived that long.

Well maybe in her mind it would, after all there was dementia to look forward to.

-And Falling again -

This was almost too much for him. In fact, he wasn't sure what was going on anymore. Ash felt sick from being spun and flipped about within the portal, but there was nothing in his stomach to really expel. When did he even eat last? Everything anymore was starting to blur…his throat was sore from screaming, he was tired and frustrated. So damn tired, he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up from hell once they were opened. He wanted to wake up from this damned nightmare, look over and maybe see Linda again. Maybe she'd call and he'd forget about the damn cabin visit and they could go somewhere else. It just was dark and…was he even falling anymore!?

He let his eyes close, as the spinning was giving him a headache now. He could feel the steady pounding into his skull right at his forehead. Wind whipped his hair, his clothes. The weight of his chainsaw felt heavy and he was surprised he still had his gun. Which way was up? Which way was down? He didn't even know anymore….

Until he felt something cold and solid hit his chest and his face. It was such a relief to feel something solid that he let his eyes roll back and allowed darkness to take him.

-And back once more-

It was barely noticed at first, Heather thought she'd felt a rumble off in her sisters room, hitting the wall of the bathroom. Surely the dog was kicking the wall…maybe rolling on the bed? Not the first time that happened. Her back was to that wall, opening the cabinet to get a band aid only to hear a small squishing noise.

…What? Looking over her shoulder, she blinked and stared towards the wall, only catching the Ash figure staring at her. She hadn't set him that way…had she? Didn't she set him facing the mirror and the sink? She squinted, looking and leaning forward only to watch as blood—her blood—start to disappear around the cut on his face, almost as if the vinyl itself were absorbing it.

"..The fuck?" She took a step and practically stumbled with the jolt beneath her feet. A yelp escaped her, hissing out as her head hit the wood of the cabinet. Her hands stretched out on either side of her and she held to the wall, catching a yip from the dog in the next room. Since when did Ohio have earthquakes!? She squeezed her eyes shut as she nearly fell towards the bathroom closet, standing in the doorframe once she managed to yank open the door. She could hear the sound of objects on the sink clattering to the floor as they rolled and fell off, the toy included. White knuckle grips on the doorframe, she felt her heart echoing in her ears as her chest grew tight…

And then it all stopped. Her eyes opened slowly as she looked into the closet, the blankets and towels surprisingly in place still. Closing the closet door she looked off to her right. The cabinet was okay, the picture hanging beside it never fell. She turned and looked to see nothing really out of the ordinary. Everything was…fine.

Until she looked down to see a chainsaw at her feet.

"JESUS CHRIST!" She fell back into the corner of the bathroom, eyes wide as she followed the blood covered weapon, spying it's attachment to an arm…and then the body of a man that was face down on her bathroom floor who looked all too familiar. Left hand flying to her mouth, she stared wide eyed and whined out against her palm, still bleeding from her right hand. This was bizarre. Who? Was this? She looked over the dark head of hair resting next to her toilet's base. She inched, stepping carefully over the chainsaw, then around the body altogether to get out of the bathroom with a little squeal.

Ash had jolted a little at the very sound of someone's voice. A woman's no less. He didn't want to open his eyes though. They felt as if they were burning. Hell, every bit of him felt as if it were burning, and the ground he was on felt cool. He registered an odd texture of flooring, and part of his skin was on soft, fluffy carpet. A rug? His conscious made a groan rumble out of his throat, and his eyes rolled back while his lids stubbornly remained shut, only earning his brows to lift. That was only until he felt something moving beside him. That brought those eyes to snap open, narrow even as the weight and shift of the floor moving caught his attention. No deadite was getting the drop on him, the bastards. Paranoia had his hand launch out and grab at what felt like a soft denim, his ears catching a squeal, rather than laughter.

Unfortunately, Heather didn't have the best balance, so she was moving to the ground before her other foot could come out to catch her weight. The drop of her body rattled the few pictures on the nearby walls as the boom shook the floor. Sure enough jingling from a dog collar came to peek out of the room of her little sister and the black lab mix, Abby stared at her on the floor. "Shit—let go!" Heather squirmed and kicked the leg until she heard a grunt and the hand released her.

She scooted back to watch the back of the man shift. His dirty arm, both dirt and dried blood on olive skin, moved so his hand could press to the floor and lift him up. Little by little, he groaned and forced his way up to a sitting position after dragging his legs beneath him to catch the weight. He sat back on his heels with a tired sigh, head limp and the dark tousled hair askew in its thick waves as the angular face turned so Ash could send a narrowed gaze back to the panicked woman.

"…Where the hell am I?"

Well here's the first chapter. This will more than likely be a bit more of a ridiculous sort of story, and I hope you enjoy as the story continues. I will hopefully be updating once a week, schedule permitting.