Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1983 - Hawkins Indiana (Upside Down Dimension)

It had been four days since the monster got him.

Memories of that night paced in his mind; the boys had spent the entire day in Mike's basement, huddled around the table, playing through the newest campaign. It was nice, exciting. The sounds of dice clattering and laughter filling the air echoed through Will's mind. Finally, it was time to make the final roll. The crucial die fell from the table and rolled to the floor, sending the boys into an excited search. Will found it first, seeing the low 7 staring up at him. This failure of a roll would mean that the monster, the Demogorgon, had gotten Will the Wise.

The boys said their goodbyes, bikes rattling down the street as they departed towards their homes. As Will headed home, the game became real. Every nerve in his body screamed as Will stared down a terrifying monster from an unknown world. Its skin was pasty and stretched to an unnatural degree. Its non-human face opened up in four as it screeched and attacked. He fought. He ran. He was cornered.

It got him.

These memories faded from his mind as his eyes slowly opened. His head throbbed as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as he scanned his surroundings. The cold, dry air clung to him, seeping through his clothing and into his soul. The world around him felt dead, decaying, like it was rotting from the inside out.

Flesh-like veins coated every surface, stretched across the walls and ceiling, pulsing and brimming with unnatural life.

Will tried to push himself forward but found himself unable to move. He was pinned upright against the wall. A slick, living sheet pressed tightly over his chest and arms, holding him firmly in place. He felt as the wall behind him shifted, rising and falling, as if it were breathing.

A thick, tube-like vein had suctioned itself to his mouth, forcing air and gunk down his throat. He gagged as it filled his lungs, the taste of rotten slimy decay enveloping his senses. He couldn't scream. He couldn't call for help. He couldn't so much as close his own jaw.

Will struggled and thrashed, and the wall answered by tightening and flexing around him. Tears stung his eyes as desperation and panic set in. His breathing quickened as he frantically looked around for any way to get himself out.

Finally, he was able to force one hand forward. He felt as the slimy, flexible wall gave way beneath his hand. He tore through the mailable surface, ripping enough space to pull his arm free. Wearily, he lifted his arm up to the vein affixed to his face. He clawed and pulled until, finally, it tore away.

Will breathed in a ragged breath. Black smoke poured from his mouth as he tore himself free from the wall. He collapsed forward, coughing and gasping on the cold, moist floor.

His heart pounded in his ears as he shakily scrambled to his feet. Eyes darting around the abyss, he started to run. And he ran, and ran, and ran.

His feet pounded on the ground when suddenly he found himself on a familiar path. Finally, something familiar. Will sprinted through the woods, as a feeling of hope filtered its way through the panic. He was getting there, he was gonna be safe, it was finally within reach.

Castle Byers.

The pain in his chest and legs screamed at him to rest, but he couldn't risk stopping. He pushed himself further, calves aching with each step. Suddenly, a loud screech echoed through the air from somewhere up ahead.

Will skidded to a stop as the monster moved on the path ahead. It was in the way, standing between him and safety.

The Demogorgon took a slow step forward, dragging itself out of the shadows. The ground buckled beneath its weight as it locked sight on Will. He gulped and slowly turned to flee, just barely catching as the monster's head split open with a slow stretch. Pedal-like sections folded back to reveal countless rows of sharp, deadly teeth.

The hope of reaching Castle Byers diminished in an instant. Will turned and broke into a sprint, desperate to get away from the monster. He couldn't let it take him back there. He just got out, he refused to go back there again.

The creature lunged, claws ripping through the space where Will had just been, ripping chunks of dirt and grass from the ground. It screeched and ran after him, closing the distance quickly. All Will could do was run, panic drowning out every other sensation. Castle Byers quickly faded from view behind him as the Demo got closer and closer.

His chest burned and his legs grew numb. He risked a glance over his shoulder, causing his stomach to drop as he realized just how much danger he was in in that instance. He stood no chance. No matter how fast he pushed himself, it was faster.

He couldn't run. He had to hide.

The thought of Castle Byers flashed through his mind, too far, wrong direction. Everything around was forest, just trees. Panic creeped its way up his throat as his mind raced. Maybe he could duck and turn around? Too risky. That would never work. It's close. It's right there. It's here. It's-

The impact knocked the air from his lungs as the creature slammed into his back. Will hit the ground hard, ash and slime smearing into his clothes as pain pierced through his entire body. He rolled to his side, barely managing to look up as the Demogorgon towered over him. It raised one overextended arm in the air, claws unfurling slowly, purposefully.

Then it struck.

In a singular, swooping motion, the sharp claw raked across Will's face, tearing skin and nerve. Searing pain tore through his senses, like lightning exploding beneath the surface of his face. His vision shattered. One side of the world vanished in an instant of pain and darkness, his eye burned as if it were being cooked from the inside out.

Will grasped at his face, choking on his own breath as an empty darkness swallowed the edge of his vision. He curled in on himself as his unsteady sobs echoed through the air.

一☐一

A heavy silence surrounded Will as he slowly came to. The silence was uneasy, thick, pressing, like the world around him was waiting and watching. His body ached everywhere, intense but dull, and for a short moment he couldn't remember why. Will moved to sit up and the violent reminder of last night's events shot through his limbs like wildfire. He winced as the pain flared through his shoulders and spine, but his face had the worse of it. It ached and stung with an intense fury.

He lifted a shaky hand to inspect the area. He gently touched his cheek; the area felt wet, almost sticky. He pulled his fingers back and swallowed hard, panic set in as he saw the crimson coating his fingers. That's when he noticed it, the world was blurred and dim. He blinked, trying to focus his vision, but something was wrong. The darkness on his right side didn't fade. His vision didn't sharpen, that area was just- gone. As if something had torn in half the picture that was his vision.

Will squeezed his eyes shut to try and reset the issue. When he opened them again, nothing had changed. His breath hitched. He wearily pressed his palm over the aching side of his face, he was afraid to put too much pressure, afraid of what he'd feel, afraid of what would be missing.

He scanned his surroundings to see that he was left all alone. For some unknown reason, the Demogorgon left him where he was. No breathing walls tensing around him. No pulsing veins strapped to his mouth. Just the low uncomfortable hum of this strange world. Will curled in on himself, a small, broken shape against the dead, rotting ground.

After a long moment, Will pushed himself to his feet. He opened his eyes and steadied himself on the uneven ground. Breathing in, he slowly began on the path back towards Castle Byers. Each step felt off. The world tilted in a way that he couldn't fix. He focused on the only thing keeping him moving, the faint outline of Castle Byers barely visible through the haze.

As Will followed the path he had taken so many times, his steps were slow and uneven. He was halted suddenly as his foot caught on something solid. He toppled forward, barely catching himself on the slick patch of soil. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the mount that tripped him.

Lying in front of him was a body.

"Oh- Oh my god-" Will's voice came out strained and scratchy as he stared forward.

She was half covered in thick, vein-like growths. Her skin was too pale, too stiff. Her midsection was torn open in a way that made Will's stomach churn. His hand shot to cover his mouth, gagging, forcing himself not to look. He didn't know her, he had never seen her before. But the curly red hair, the soft shape of her face, the way she looked unmistakably human made his chest ache. If he didn't look too closely, if he ignored the damage, she almost looked peaceful, as if she were sleeping.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered softly, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Sorry that she suffered. Sorry he found her like this. Sorry for surviving when she couldn't. Sorry that he had to leave her there.

Will knelt slowly, reaching out a shaky hand to carefully remove her glasses from her face. He wiped them of blood and grime, even as he realized how pointless it was. She wouldn't need them anymore. Then a thought crossed his mind. She doesn't need them, but someone will.

He tucked the glasses into his pocket, clinging to the unlikely, basically impossible, idea that there's a world where he can make it home. A world where he could bring these glasses to the people who loved her.

Will backed away, tears blurring the only half of the world that was still visible. He walked, every step heavier than the last as the weight of what he just saw sat on his shoulders. The weight that he wasn't the only one. He wasn't the only person trapped here. And somehow, with everything that's happened to him, he was the lucky one.

一☐一

1983 - Hawkins Indiana

It had been five days since Will disappeared. And it had been two days since his body was pulled from the quarry.

Jonathan sat in front of the bathroom mirror, an untied necktie slung uselessly around his shoulders. He stared into his reflection, not really looking at the guy staring back. His jaw clenched tight as he fought back the burning tears behind his eyes. His hands trembled as he tried again, unsteady fingers fumbling with fabric that he was never taught to use.

Today was the day.

Giving up on the tie, he folded his collar down and turned away from the mirror. The silence of the small house pressed in on him like an uninvited weight. Moving through the hallway, he made his way towards Joyce's room. The door was half-closed, and he could faintly hear his mother's voice on the inside. He hesitated, then knocked softly on the wood.

"Mom? Are you ready?"

The door drifted open at the gentle knock of his knuckle.

Joyce sat cross-legged on the floor, a tangled mess of Christmas lights pooled in her lap, wires covering the floor and slipping through her fingers as though she had been sorting them for hours. Her black dress lay untouched on the bed, haphazardly strewn over the blanks like it was discarded mid-thought.

Jonathan froze, staring at the sight in front of him.

"Wh- Mom?" His voice cracked as he spoke. "We have to go. Will's funeral starts soon. Why aren't you dressed?"

Joyce looked up at him in surprise, not expecting to see him there.

"Jonathan! Oh-" She blinked, clinging the lights closer to her chest. "Is it time already?"

His throat tightened. This was wrong. This was all wrong. It was the day of Will's funeral, and his mother was sitting on the floor talking to Christmas lights.

"Listen," Joyce said quickly, stumbling to her feet, "I know you don't believe me, but I promise Will was talking through the lights. He was. He's- he's not doing it right now, but he was. He was here, I know he was."

"Mom..." Jonathan stepped forward, helplessly.

"I know, I know." She said, shaking her head and looking around the room. "You think I've lost my mind."

"We have to go, Mom." He said softly, the last word coming out desperate.

Joyce hesitated, eyes flicking to the lights, to the dress, then back to him. "You go on ahead," She said at last. "I'll- I'll meet you there, okay?"

Jonathan swallowed hard and nodded. There was nothing left he could do to persuade her. He turned slowly and pulled the door shut behind him. Once he made it outside, he took a long, shaking breath before heading to his car.

一☐一

The ground was eerily dry when they lowered the coffin containing Will's lifeless body.

Jonathan stood at the front of the crowd with his hands buried deep in his coat pockets, fingers curled into a tight fist clinging to the funeral pamphlet as if he would crumple without it. The air was cold and sharp, the sun too bright in his eyes, but all he could focus on was one thought:

That casket was way too small. Will shouldn't have been able to fit inside something like that. Will didn't deserve to go so young, he was a good kid. He was a great kid.

Jonathan didn't dare look anyone in the eyes. He didn't want to see their pity, or relief, or the way some of them seemed ready to be somewhere, anywhere else. His eyes stayed trained on the empty spot beside him. Joyce should've been there. Why wasn't she there? Does she not realize what is happening? Does she not know her son is dead? Does she not know how it looks when the outcast kid's own mother doesn't show up to his funeral?

When it came time for people to step forward and say some words about Will, Jonathan didn't move. His legs felt nailed in place, and he couldn't trust himself to open his mouth without falling apart. He glanced around and noticed the boys standing near the back. Mike was there with Lucas and Dustin. They seemed distracted, whispering among themselves, and struggling not to laugh about whatever they were saying.

They're young, he thought, they're too young to fully understand what's happening.

Jonathan swallowed hard and looked away. Joyce hadn't come. Each minute that passed pressed harder against his chest. Maybe she was running late. She could appear any second. But that moment never came.

The first fistfuls of dirt were tossed onto the casket. The sounds of pebbles hitting the wood hammered into him like a fist to his gut. This was it. The finale. Will was really gone. He stood frozen in his spot while waves of people started to leave. Hands touched Jonathan's shoulder. Voices murmured condolences that he couldn't bring himself to answer. He stood till the crowd thinned and the air went silent again.

Joyce never showed.

Jonathan stood near the edge of the grave, numb hands still pressing into his sides. The air felt hollow now, all the voices and people emptied from the space. Just him, the dirt, and the casket that his brother wasn't supposed to fit into.

"Jonathan."

The voice caused Jon's shoulders to tense.

Anger rose in his stomach as he turned to see the man. Lonnie Byers was standing a few feet away, hands awkwardly fidgeting with the pamphlet, like he didn't belong there. His tie was crooked, hair combed too neat. He looked around the cemetery out of mild curiosity and boredom.

"You're late. It's over." Jonathan said flatly

Lonnie shrugged it off, "Traffic, you get it." He walked towards the plot where his son was buried with a frustrating amount of composure. "Where's your mom, boy?"

Jonathan stared at him and swallowed hard.

"She didn't come." He said, voice coming out meeker than he would have preferred.

Lonnie frowned, "What do you mean 'didn't come'? It's her kid."

Jonathan felt himself snap. "Yeah," he said. "I'm aware."

Lonnie glanced to the grave, the one that holds his kid, his son, the boy he was supposed to raise, without a care in the world. He turned back to Jonathan. "Alright well, I should probably go check on her. Make sure she's okay."

Jonathan stared at him, scanning his face. "No."

Lonnie blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You don't get to just show up and act like you care," Jonathan said, voice low and shaking with frustration. "You weren't here. You didn't raise him. You didn't look for him. You didn't sit in the house for hours waiting for him to come home! You didn't stand here and watch them put him in the ground!"

Lonnie's jaw tensed, "Watch your tone, boy."

"You definitely do not get to insert yourself now." Jonathan continued.

For a moment, Lonnie looked like he was ready to argue, to fight back. Then he sighed, out of annoyance more than anything. "Fine," he said. "I suppose I'll just have to figure it out myself." He turned and walked away, leaving Jonathan alone at the grave.

Jonathan watched him go, and the graveyard fell silent again. He turned back to the casket in the ground, chest aching with everything he wished he could've done for Will. Aching with everything that night proved.

Joyce hadn't come to Will's funeral, but Lonnie had. And that made it all worse.

Chapter Text

1983 - Hawkins Indiana

Jonathan pulled into the dirt driveway just as the front door swung open and Lonnie Byers came storming down the porch steps. Killing the engine, Jonathan stepped from the car in time to hear Lonnie’s rigid voice cutting through the air.

“Is that so?!” Lonnie shouted, turning back towards Joyce, who stood in the doorway staring down her ex-husband.. “You’ve gone fucking crazy, Joyce! You hear me? Crazy!”

“I’m not crazy, Lonnie!” Joyce shot back. Her arms tensed and swinging in the air in pure annoyance. “Will is out there! I know he is!”

“Where?!” He snapped back “In the fucking lights?!”

Feeling rage build up in his chest again, Jonathan crossed the yard and grabbed Lonnie by the collar. He yanked him back before he could take another step. Up close, Lonnie didn’t look like the man that Jonathan had once wished would be a father to him. He looked distant, like a stranger he barely knew, a stranger he despised seeing near his family.

“Get out.” Jonathan said dryly.

Lonnie’s eyes flicked down to the hands on his collar before shoving Jonathan hard in the chest, causing him to stagger back a couple steps.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving,” Lonnie grunted, glancing at his car. “I don’t much appreciate this new attitude, boy.”

“Just go.”

Lonnie huffed and turned, parading back towards his car and slamming the door behind him. As the too-clean car pulled from the driveway, Jonathan prayed that he would never have to see that man’s face again.

When he turned back to the house, Joyce had disappeared from the doorway back inside. Once Jon had walked over, he saw that it was in a worse state than when he had left that morning. Christmas lights were draped across the ceiling, walls, and furniture, casting an array of colors over every surface. Joyce paced the living room, hands running through her hair as she mumbled to herself. Her face had a mix of annoyance and something of embarrassment as she looked up to her eldest son. She was wearing the same outfit from the day prior. Not only did Joyce not go to her son's funeral, but she hadn’t even given the black dress another look after he had gone.

Jonathan stood in the doorway, exhaustion pulling him low as the weight of the day began to catch up to him.

“Mom, you missed it.” he sighed, tears forming behind his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Will’s funeral is over, and you- Mom, why weren’t you there?”

Joyce looked at him like she was seeing through a thick cloud of fog. Her fingers tightened around the strand of lights still placed in her hands.

“Jonathan…” Joyce muttered, a look of sadness and misunderstanding crossing over her face. “It’s the lights, Jon. He’s talking through the lights. The other day- I know it sounds weird, Jon, but I know it. Will’s still ali-”

“He’s dead!” Jonathan shouted, cutting her off.

The words hung in the air for a long moment. Neither of them had dared to use that word out loud before, they were too afraid of what it would mean.

He looked away, taking in a deep breath, trying to steady himself

“Look Mom, I know you don’t want to think about Will being gone.” Jon said, struggling to hold eye contact. “But he is. And it sucks, and it’s hard, but he’s not coming back.”

Joyce stared at him, eyes flicking from one side of his face to the other, as if she were piecing him together again. This was her son, her boy who had learned to be an adult too early. He learned to care for Will in a way that his father should’ve, and this funeral was breaking him.

At that moment, as Joyce watched Jonathan speak, she realized she was already mourning two children. The one who was missing or dead, and the one who was forced to grow up too soon.

One of them was standing right in front of her.

“Please Mom,” Jonathan continued, his voice breaking as tears finally spilled over, flowing freely down his cheeks.  “please come back to real life. I just- I need you right now.”

Joyce’s resolve shattered in an instant. She stepped forward, dropping the lights, and reaching for her son.

“I’m sorry Jon,” She replied, pulling him into a gentle, trembling hug. “I’m here now.”

Jonathan clutched the back of her shirt in his firsts as he allowed himself to finally let go of all the emotions piling in his chest.

一☐一

1983 - Hawkins Indiana (Wheeler Household)

After Will’s funeral, the boys headed directly to the Wheeler house. Darting down the basement stairs, they crowded around the make-shift tent that sat against the back wall. Inside it, Eleven sat cross-legged on a pile of blankets. Mike’s walkie-talkie was resting in her lap. A blindfold was wrapped over her eyes, with a thin trail of blood dripping from her nose.

It had been two days since the body was pulled from the quarry. Two days since El had used her abilities to prove that it wasn’t Will

“Is he there?” Dustin questioned, his voice too loud in the quiet room as he loosened his necktie and tossed it onto the couch.

“Shhh,” Mike whispered sharply. “Let El concentrate.”

Dustin shut his mouth, watching anxiously as El tried to focus.

“Are we sure this is even gonna work?” Lucas muttered, eyes flicking to Eleven, then to Mike.

“Dude. Quiet!” Mike scolded, slapping Lucas firmly on the chest with the back of his hand.

El let out a low, irritated breath and pulled the blindfold from her face. Wiping the blood from under her nose, she shot a stern and unimpressed look towards Mike.

Mike gulped. “Should we… go to another room?”

“Yes,” El replied softly. “please.”

Mike nodded, patting Lucas on the shoulder and heading to the stairs. The others followed, their footsteps echoing throughout the room as they ascended up through the door.

As the room fell silent once again, El lifted the blindfold back over her eyes. She steadied her breathing, fingers tightening on the walkie as she entered into her mind.

The black void of her mind morphed, reshaping into the warped, eerie landscape of the Upside Down.

Eleven darted quickly through the dead woods, ash and spores drifting in the air around her as she searched for the wooden structure that was Castle Byers. Once she made her way to its entrance, El pushed aside the draping fabric to see Will curled up on the murky floor.

“Will?” El whispered, kneeling down beside him.

He stirred.

As if he could sense her presence across the different dimensions, Will turned towards her voice. El’s breath hitched as she looked him over. The deep gash carved across his face and the dark red space where his right eye should have been caught her entirely off guard. He looked thin. Small. Scared. As if he had been broken down by this strange world in a thousand different ways.

“I’m here, Will.” she said, resting her hand over his across worlds. “We are going to find you.”

Will scanned the empty air where she knelt, his gaze unfocused, searching helplessly for something he couldn’t see. When he couldn’t find her, his face crumpled. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. His sobs broke through the quiet in small, exhausted bursts that echoed around the structure.

El’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth to speak, when she was abruptly cut off.

“This isn’t your place, Eleven.”

The deep, familiar voice cut through her mind like a sharp blade. The world around her lurched, El was forced out of the space, leaving Will alone once again.

El yanked the blindfold from her eyes with a sharp gasp. Her heart slammed aggressively against her chest, hands shaking while clinging to the walkie in her lap. She panted, the Wheeler’s basement snapping back into place around her.

He was there.

She knew that voice anywhere, 001 was there, forcing her out.

He was stronger than before, and he didn’t want her anywhere near Will.

一☐一

1985 - Hawkins Indiana

It had been two years since Will disappeared. It took a long while, but eventually Mike was able to accept his best friend’s death.

El had shown Mike that Will was still alive the night that his body was pulled from the quarry, but after the funeral she was unable to prove it to the others. Part of Mike questioned if El had faked it the first night, the other part of him believed her. Either way, it had been two years since, and there was next to no chance that Will would have survived in the Upside Down all alone. All odds pointed towards Will’s death.

Over the years the party had grown. El had officially joined the party a year after she destroyed the first Demogorgon. Max joined, against Mike’s wishes, during the year where El was missing. Lucas and Max grew close and officially started dating soon after. Dustin got close with Steve “The Hair” Harrington, which connected the party to Nancy, Jonathan, and, most recently, Robin.

After fighting a Demogorgon face-to-face, Jonathan could no longer dismiss his mother’s claims that Will was still alive in the beginning. The realization settled in slowly, and with it came the weight of his own failure. He had been the one to convince her to stop searching. A few months after Will’s death, Nancy and Jonathan grew close and eventually started dating. It took him a while to readjust to normal life without his younger brother, and even longer to subdue the blame and guilt resonating within him, but Nancy stayed by his side the entire time.

Everyone in the party and directly connected to it knew about the Upside Down, and most, if not all, of them had directly faced the demonic creatures head-on.

Lucas was the one to key Max in to the Upside Down and the rest of the craziness that the party faced. However, the boys could never bring themselves to tell her many details about Will. She knew he existed, she knew he was their friend, and she knew that he had passed away due to some events connected to the Upside Down.

Everything was different now, but it became their new normal.

一☐一

1985 - Hawkins Indiana (Upside Down Dimension)

Castle Byers had changed over the years, it had shifted from a small make-shift hut made of sticks to a fortified structure that became Will’s base of operations. The walls were layered with scrap metal, wooden boards, old road signs, and anything else he could take and repurpose. The old sign at the door had long been broken and discarded, now nailed to the inside wall with the other scraps. Will had made a weird but consistent life for himself in this altered, lonely dimension.

On the upper platform of Castle Byers, he had created a lookout tower with a sniper rifle mounted and pointed towards the forest below. Will laid on the platform, his cheek pressed into his shoulder, breath slow and measured. The forest ahead of him stretched out for what seemed like miles, crooked dead trees and floating ash filled the horizon.

He cocked the rifle with practiced ease.

A movement ruffled the viny bushes roughly 100 yards out. Too heavy for a rat, and too cautious for anything mindless.

Eye peering through the scope, Will waited for a clear shot.

His finger rested lightly against the trigger when the shape emerged. It resembled the figure of a dog, but was clearly something unnatural, with long twitching limbs and a face that split open in four. It’s head tilted as if it could feel Will watching from a distance.

The world tunneled ahead of him, a low hum pressed against Will’s skull as the demo turned to face him. He could feel the connection, a connection that Will always seemed unable to fully break.

No. I don’t need it, he told himself.

Pulling the trigger, the rifle shot cracked through the silence. The creature dropped in an instant, body laying still against the swaying trees. Will stayed for a moment, allowing the echo to fade as he scanned the surrounding area.

After confirming that the creature was alone, Will rose to his feet. He descended the ladder to the base floor of Castle Byers and exited into the murky woods. Moving through the landscape efficiently, he harvested what was needed from the thing’s body. His hands were steady, trained. After years of this work, Will could barely remember the times when his hands would shake at the thought of killing these things.

As he worked, he heard footsteps approach behind him.

“Will?” A strangely familiar voice echoed out.

His body went stiff, heart pounding against his ribs. He raised his gun quickly as he turned towards the voice.

Empty space for miles. There was nothing there.

Still, the voice lingered in his mind. It was gentle and wrong, like it never existed in the real world to begin with. Will huffed and turned his attention back to his harvest. His hallucinations had been getting more vivid, more real, as time went on. But he refused to give them his attention.

Will gathered his supplies and made his way back to the safety of Castle Byers as nighttime began to take over the horizon. Night in this weird world wasn’t darker. It was heavier, thicker with danger.

The light thinned first, blue haze fading until everything looked washed and blurred, like an old photograph overtaken by time. Shadows stretched and warped, clinging to trees and arching over the walls of Castle Byers.

The air grew thicker, denser, making it harder and harder to suck in a breath with every moment that passed. The spores shifted next. By day, they drifted lazily through the air. By night, they began to pulse, slow and uneven as if they came to life. When Will made his way through the night, they would cling to his clothes and skin, refusing to let go until morning came.

The forest creaked and sighed, distant groans and aches growing louder and closer. The vines breathed, every vibration pressing into the soles of his boots, seeping into his bones. The hums of the hive mind pressed harder; a low, constant vibration in the base of his mind.

Will checked his weapons, locked the doors, and waited as the world finished changing. Morning would come eventually, it always did. He sat near the center of Castle Byers, sorting his supplies by lantern light to pass the time. Sleeping at night was dangerous; the world stilled as if waiting for him to put his guard down so it could lunge, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Will paused, tilting his head as he looked about the space around him. A low vibration rippled through his mind, causing his vision to tunnel once again. It was familiar, tempting. The hive mind brushed against him, inviting him to lean into it again.

For a quiet moment, Will contemplated letting go and leaning into the hive. It would be so easy, to just reach out and know where the creatures were. To take control and hunt them from their own minds. The power slipped into place like muscle memory.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms until they started to bleed.

“No.” He whispered, forcing the connection from his mind.

Using those abilities made things blur. Names would slip from memory; faces would fade around the edges. Once, after he’d leaned too far into it, he had stared into his own reflection in a cracked mirror. That moment dragged out, the thoughts struggling to make their way to the surface. As he looked into his own eye he realized something terrible: He couldn’t remember his own name.

Will rubbed his face with his palms, grounding himself as he pushed the hive away. He didn’t want to let it get that bad again. It took him too long to recall his name, and he refused to forget it again.

As he sleepless hours dwindled away, Will kept himself busy. He organized his tools, cleaned his weapons, and sketched faces on the walls with charcoal; wiping them away when the lines refused to look like anyone he could recall.

Night turned back to day, and Will found himself wandering towards the back corner of Castle Byers; the corner dedicated to the graveyard.

It had started as a small wooden shelf in the corner of the room, somewhere to put the girl’s glasses, somewhere he could keep them safe for when it was finally time to reach freedom. It grew overtime, carefully arranged with items from other people that he had come across over the years; a torn sleeve, a cracked watch, a hat. Some of the items given to Will before the people inevitably passed, others carefully pulled from the bodies found too late. All from people he was unable to save.

Will knelt and adjusted one of the tokens, brushing the ash away with his thumb. He whispered apologies under his breath, and promised once again that he would bring their items back to their families in the real world. As he placed it carefully back on the shelf, something caught the corner of his eye.

A small red and yellow vest lay crumpled and ashened on the floor nearby, small spots of dirt and blood littered on its surface. It looked like a child’s vest, something too small to be found in this area of the woods.

“Oh,” he murmured, chest tightening as he stepped closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you before.”

He picked it up gently, wiping the ash away with his palm, careful as to not damage the fabric. The material felt familiar in his hands. He frowned, trying to place the memory. He didn’t remember coming across any kids, but clearly he had. Some poor kid didn’t make it out of this dangerous world, and Will couldn’t even remember their face.

“I’m sorry,” Will muttered, tears springing behind his eyes. “I’ll keep trying, I promise.”

He folded the vest carefully, placing it among the others. As he did so, something felt wrong. Like it didn’t belong in the graveyard, but he couldn’t figure out why. It was like an itch in the back of his head, a tug of wrongness that he couldn’t scratch.

A faint memory of a small bowl-cut boy slipped into his mind, but it left just as fast. Will stood for a moment, an uneasy feeling seeping into his gut, then he turned from the graveyard and made his way back towards the main area. He didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

1986 - Hawkins Indiana (Upside Down Dimension)

He looked over the horizon as the gates tore through the earth, veins of light ripping open the ground a few miles ahead.

Natural sunshine bled through the tears, spilling into the unnatural dimension in broken, blinding streaks. The air leaking through the holes seemed clean, warm; warm in a way this world was never supposed to be. For a second he felt as if he could see into the other side. Trees free of ash. Sky full of pillowing clouds and rays of sunshine. A world he could almost remember, a world belonging to a younger version of himself.

The boy groaned, teeth grinding together as he turned away from the scene. He squeezed his good eye shut, as if the act alone could make it disappear.

“It’s not real,” he told himself, “It’s never real”

The thought of this world opening up to reveal his old home lingered in his mind, a cruel echo of an idea he knew would never come true

He forced his mind to focus as he slung his shotgun back over his shoulder, the familiar weight grounding him in reality. The only reality he could trust. The hallucinations had been getting worse lately; they were longer, sharper, more convincing. They showed him a world he once knew, people he could no longer trust himself to remember. But he knew it was all fake. In any moment the crushing reality would fall back into place and the visions would disappear, leaving him alone once again. It was better to ignore them, not let them get his hopes up.

He weaved through the murky woods as he made his way towards the base, boots sinking into the viny soil with every step. Trees groaned above him; twisted branches seemed to move with his potion, as if watching him. In the distance he could make out the familiar clicks of the demogogorns hunting. This is the world he knew, the world he could trust. It had become his home over the past three years. He didn’t look back towards the hallucination. He couldn’t.

On bad days like these, the best way to survive the hallucinations was to bunker up at the base and wait them out.

一☐一

He couldn’t wait forever. Eventually hunger was able to pry him away from the safety of the base. It was unclear how long he sat, waiting for the hallucination to fade. Hours blended with days, time was unreliable in this place.

The boy made his way through the woods with practiced ease, lacing between the trees along paths carved into his memory. The shining tear in the earth refused to vanish, persistent and stubborn. But he was equally as stubborn, refusing to give the hallucination another second of thought.

His fingers tightened around the revolver in his hand, knuckles whitening as he scanned the warped landscape for any signs of movement. Slowly, a distinct shape formed between the trees. Not a monster, not a shadow, but a person. He tensed, lifting the revolver quickly to take aim. Then he paused, staring as the person stepped into the dim blue light.

Cautious, the figure stepped closer, hands raised slightly, eyes wide with something a mix of fear and hope. Thin brown hair encircled his face, with messy bangs grazing just over his eyebrows. He looked almost familiar. Familiar clothes. Familiar build and stance. Familiar face, just familiar enough to cause an ache to pull at the boy's chest.

“Hey.” the figure said softly, keeping his hands raised in the air.

The sound of the person’s voice made his head throb with memories he couldn’t place. He swallowed, lowering the gun slightly.

“You’re.. You’re not real.” he mumbled.

The figure flinched, lowering his hands and staring into the boy's eyes. He looked sad, like the words hurt.

“I am,” he insisted. “I am real, I’ve been looking for you.”

The boy studied him carefully. He searched for any signs of rot, of distortion, any hint of wrongness that was usually paired with the hallucinations. But the figure stayed. He was solid, breathing, blinking, real. 

The figure seemed to know him. He was looking at him with a flury of kindness, guilt, desperation, and love. He had been searching for him, trying to find him in this rotten world. And yet, no name surfaced. No memories of this man came to mind. Only a dull sting behind his eyes.

“Do you remember me?” the figure asked quietly.

That question scared him more than any monster had for years. He scanned his face again, searching every inch of his memory for a name. Any name. But he found nothing.

“I’m not,” he answered, trailing off as he stared at the man. “No. I don’t.”

The figure’s expression broke.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, though it was clearly not. “I’m your brother. My names-”

“Don’t.” the boy shook his head sharply. “Just- please don’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” the figure stepped closer, hands now lowered to his side. “You don’t have to remember everything right now. Just- please remember me. Please.”

The boy’s hands trembled, still holding tightly to the revolver by his side.

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t remember you.” he said, voice cracking. He felt as the tears streamed down his cheek. Every nerve in his body was screaming to remember the man standing in front of him.

The figure reached out, face scrunched with pity and worry.

The air warped where the figure stood, starting at his hand that was outstretched and reaching towards the boy. Blue haze filtered into the space as the figure flickered like a shattered reflection and vanished.

The boy staggered back, breathing in desperate ragged breaths, staring into the empty space where the figure had stood. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. But he wanted it to be real. He wanted it so bad.

He stared for a moment longer, eye readjusting to the real world around him. Then he turned. He wiped his eye as anger and frustration took over the hurt that was buried in his chest.

Hallucinations were cruel like that.

Lately they had begun to feel so real.

But they never were.

He forced the image of the figure from his mind and turned his attention forward. All he could do was keep moving.

He moved through the trees with quiet precision. They began to thin as the ground transitioned from dirt and vines to stoney pavement. Buildings stood against the hazy sky, void of energy and light. The world was quieter in these areas, less alive than the forest, if that was even possible.

The gaping casm in the earth lingered steady in his peripheral vision, bleeding through the horizon of buildings like a wound refusing to heal. Still, he didn’t look at it. He wouldn’t let another hallucination trick him. Not again.

His focus narrowed on the buildings ahead. He adjusted his grip on his revolver, shoulders tight as he moved between collapsed walls and scattered debris. He ducked under a fallen lamp pole, turned a corner, then he saw it.

The body lay flat against the pavement. Dried red blood staining the clothes and skin, sitting in contrast against the grey-blue haze.

No matter how many times the boy was met with this sight, it never got easier.

Holstering his gun, he walked over and knelt by the body. He looked over the damages and scanned the stranger's face; the expression frozen in a mix of fear and stubborn defiance. He was young, early twenties probably. Long, curly dark hair soaked in with blood. A spear and shield laid by his side. It was clear he went out fighting for his life.

It wasn’t the first time the boy had come across someone who seemed prepared, as if they knew what awaited them on this side of the gates. But it always ended the same; another dead body left behind in this unforgiving dimesion.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, carefully removing the stranger's bandana from his forehead.

It had become his own little ritual. Whenever he found the people less lucky than he was, he would whisper apologies; apologies to the people lying before him who didn’t make it out, apologies to the families in the other dimension who would never see their loved ones again. Then he would take something; an item, a token. Something to take with him when he got out. Something to prove that these people were here.

Carefully, he folded the bandana and placed it gently in his pocket.

“I won’t forget you,” he promised softly. “I’ll try my best anyway.”

He stood and turned away, chest aching as the familiar feeling of guilt rose from deep inside him. Another person trapped in this world, another one he couldn’t save.

一☐一

1986 - Hawkins Indiana

The military moved in quickly, basically overnight. They began sealing the gates to the Upside Down, as if they could cover everything up with metal sheets. Years worth of chaos, loss, struggles, and unanswered questions; everything reduced to barricades, warning signs, and armed forces. The party was pushed to the side like their efforts were nothing.

Mike laid on top of his tangled sheets, staring up at the blue ceiling of his bedroom. It was 6pm on a Thursday, he hadn’t gotten out of bed yet.

The curtains were half drawn, letting in small streaks of evening light. Mike turned on his side, eyes scanning over the desk sitting against the wall. Dust settled over the area, he couldn’t remember when he’d last cleaned it. His backpack lay slumped against the wall, where he had discarded it a week ago. It hadn’t moved since.

Neither had he, not really.

He’d skipped school all week, opting to rot in his bedroom away from prying eyes. He wouldn’t have been able to handle all the people going about their lives as if nothing was wrong. His chest felt heavy all week; like a constant weight sitting on it, bearing down whenever he’d dared to breathe too deeply. The same weight that seemed to show up at this time every year.

Mike shifted again, turning away from the reminder that the real world moved on. It moved on without him. His eyes fell on something else; his old dnd books. Old campaign maps and notes sat at the bottom of the pile, messily stored away years ago and left untouched ever since. A small figure peaked out near the base of the pile; a cleric minifig. Will’s minifig.

Mike swallowed hard and forced himself up, looking anywhere else. His eyes burned, partially from staring at the same ceiling all week, partially from fighting back tears.

It had been Will’s birthday; his sixteenth birthday. He should have been around to celebrate it. Will used to be the oldest in the party, but now he was frozen in Mike’s memory; frozen as the kindhearted twelve year old boy that Mike used to know.

Three years since Will had died. It never seemed to get easier. There was no cake. No candles. No stupid birthday song. Just Mike sitting alone in his bedroom, whispering birthday wishes to the empty air.

Mike finally rose to his feet, vision spacing for a second as his body adjusted to the change in altitude. He felt stiff, like he had been asleep for years on end. Hunger panged in his stomach as he forced his feet towards the bedroom door.

The hallway light spilled into the room as Mike pulled the door open, warm and yellow and painfully normal. The house was quiet aside from the soft droning of the tv downstairs. Mike made his way to the kitchen slowly, careful not to make much noise as he crept down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom, he saw his mom sitting on the couch. Her legs were pulled up under her and a blanket was draped over her lap. She was watching the tv alone, holding a glass of red wine to her lips. Her gaze lifted immediately when she noticed him.

“Hey honey.” Karen smiled softly.

Mike froze at the edge of the room, unsure of what to say or do. He had barely come out of his bedroom all week. Mike balled the ends of his sleeves in his fists, staring into his mom’s knowing eyes. Karen watched him carefully, the way that she had been watching him for days; like any sudden movement might send him darting back to his room.

“Hey,” she said again, more delicate this time. “Come here.”

Setting the glass down, Karen patted the spot next to her. The gentle look in her eyes made Mike crumple. He crossed the room and sank down on the couch beside her, shoulders slumping forward. He sat still for a moment, staring down at his hands, still unable to think of what to say.

“I don’t-” Mike started, voice breaking on the first words.

“It’s okay, honey.” Karen rubbed slow, steady circles on his back. She didn’t pry, she didn’t ask him to explain, she simply sat with him.

Mike sniffled, digging his nails into his palms. “I just- I miss him, Mom. I miss Will so much.”

Karen nodded sadly. She guided him gently closer till his head was lying on her lap, face half buried in the blanket. She combed her fingers through his dark curls as the sobs began to escape his throat.

“I know, hun. I know you do.” She whispered.

Mike layed in his mother's lap for a quiet moment, letting all the grief spill over after weeks of keeping it locked away. He gripped the blanket tight, pulling it up to cover the tears that escaped down his face; leaving dark splots on the fabric. Karen held him, letting him break apart without trying to fix it.

The two sat in the quiet room, the soft hum of the tv drowning out the sound of Mike’s sobs.

“He lives!” Holly’s voice called out. “I haven’t seen you all week, Michael.”

The small girl shuffled towards the couch. Her voice was teasing, but not unkind.

“Hey baby,” Karen glanced up, “Mike’s not feeling so great right now.”

Holly frowned, brows furrowed in confusion. Mike lifted his head slightly to look at his younger sister, eyes red and glassy.

“What’s wrong?” Holly questioned, climbing onto the edge of the couch and watching Mike with a serious expression.

“He just misses his friend.”

“Which friend? Someone from school?”

Mike stifled out a laugh through his tears, repositioning himself to sit up in between his mother and sister.

“You could’ve seen them if you actually went to school this week.” Holly smiled, taking Mike’s laugh as a sign that it wasn’t actually all that bad.

Mike laughed again, wiping his eyes as the bittersweet feeling overtook the panging grief.

“No.” He sighed, “It’s not someone from school.”

“Then who?”

“Will.”

Holly paused, quietly thinking for a moment.

“Who?” She asked hesitantly.

“Wha-” Mike froze. “Will Byers..? He- He’s my best friend, Holly. You remember Will, don’t you?”

“I thought Lucas was your best friend.” She looked at him puzzled. “Who’s Will?”

The words hit Mike like a punch to the gut. His eyes blurred as the tears began to stream down his face again. He leaned into his mother’s gentle touch, hiding his face in her shoulder.

Seeing her brother’s tears, Holly tensed up, quickly trying to apologize to fix the situation.

“Oh! I’m-! I didn’t- Mike- I’m sorry- I didn’t-”

“No, no, baby it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.” Karen soothed.

Mike’s breath hitched, turning back to look at Holly.

“You really don’t remember him..?” He asked through sobs. “You- you used to love him, Holly.”

“...I did?”

“You did.” He nodded sadly. “You always used to follow him around whenever he would come over. You- you always wanted to see his drawings. He would let you color with him whenever you asked. You adored him, Holly.”

Mike broke down more the longer he spoke, messily wiping away tears as they came.

“I’m sorry...” Holly’s voice came out small. “I don’t remember that.”

Mike shook his head, “No it’s- it’s okay.”

“It’s alright, Holly. How about you go up to your room, okay?” Karen said, ushering Holly out of the room. She coaxed Mike into a gentle hug, letting him break down crying into her shoulder.

Mike clung to his mother, sobbing quietly into her cardigan as the grief spilled over. Three years since his best friend was taken by the Upside Down. Three years without Will. It never got easier.

一☐一

“Mike? Are you there right now?” Dustin’s voice came through the walkie talkie.

Mike sat on the dirt floor of Castle Byers, staring at nothing in particular. Moonlight filtered through the wooden roof, illuminating the space just enough for Mike to make out the etches in the walls. The boys and Jonathan kept the structure well cared for over the years. They made sure to not allow it to fall into disarray.

“I’m on my way.” Lucas’ voice called out. “Max is coming too.”

Mike stared at the small carvings in the wood. Little etchings that Will and Jonathan had made to keep themselves entertained all those years ago. This fort had originally served as a safe space for the Byers brothers away from Lonnie and all the drama back at their home. Now, it became a spot for the party to reminisce and keep Will’s memory alive.

Every year around the time that Will disappeared, and his birthday, Mike and the others would meet up at Castle Byers to hang out and tell stories about Will. During these times, it was a space for just the three of them. A space for them to remember their lost friend. This year was no different. Lucas, Dustin, and Mike met up at Castle Byers to celebrate Will’s life. However, Mike seemed to find himself going back to that spot every day since.

“Wait, you’re bringing Max?” Dustin’s voice called through again.

“Yeah? She’s worried about Mike too.” Lucas responded, “And it’s not like today is Will’s birthday. She’s allowed to come.”

“Of course she’s allowed. I’m just surprised she’s still at your place. It’s like 1 in the morning, dude.”

The voices drowned out as Mike examined his surroundings. He had this place memorized like the back of his hand. Every stone and scrap of wood was embedded with memories, both happy and sad. But he never got bored taking it all in.

Eventually the others showed up, Max and El trailing behind Lucas and Dustin.

“Hi Mike.” El smiled, waving slightly.

Mike nodded in response, not able to bring himself to words.

“Where have you been all week?” Dustin asked, placing himself next to Mike.

“Home. Mostly…” He responded, hands fidgeting in his lap. “I’ve been coming here at night.”

“I thought so… you know we’re here for you right?”

“I know.” Mike shrugged, “It’s easier being alone.”

Lucas sat down on the other side of Mike, leaning against him heavily. “This year is harder. High School really made it all real, huh?”

“Definitely,” He choked out. “It just sucks. He was so small. I mean- obviously we all were, but he didn’t get to grow up with us…”

The conversation drifted, slow and uneven, stitched together with half-smiles and bittersweet laughter. The boys told stories of Will, of dnd, of the old days and nights spent in Mike’s basement. El and Max sat near the doorway, adding small comments here and there. The girls didn’t know Will personally, but they listened, taking in the stories as if they had lived through them themselves.

Moonlight filtered through the cracks as the hours slowly passed by. Mike sat with his friends, laughter and sobs filtering through the air as the stories filled the space. They were all missing their friend, but they refused to let his memory fade.

Chapter Text

1987 - Hawkins Indiana

“Monsters aren’t real, Holly.” 

Mike sat on the school bench next to his sister, back pressed against the cold white hallway tile. The main office door was closed a few feet away, muttering voices slipped through the cracks as Karen spoke quietly with Holly’s teacher.

“I don’t believe you.” Holly responded quietly.

Karen had asked Mike to come with her in picking Holly up. Saying it might help if he sat with her while Karen talked with her teachers. Apparently Holly had been distracted after recess, claiming there was a man talking to her, an imaginary friend. She said his name was Mr Whatsit or something like that.

“I know you’re scared because of everything that’s happened.” Mike said, “With the crazy stories people tell, I mean, I get scared sometimes too.”

Holly chuckled softly, “No you don’t.”

“Are you kidding?” He responded quickly, “Everyone in Hawkins is scared shitless. Anyone who says they aren’t are full of it.”

The sounds of the voices from the office drowned out as the two spoke.

Deep down, Mike thought about the monsters, the real monsters. The things from the other world who had taken his best friend and the majority of his childhood. Holly was just a kid, she didn’t need to know about all the shit the party had lived through. They would protect her, he would protect her. And part of protecting her meant keeping her in the dark, protecting her mind from the truth.

Mike swore that those creatures would never take anything from him again. And they would definitely not take his little sister.

“Know who I turn to when I get scared?” Mike smiled, removing his bag from behind him and rummaging around in it.

Holly shook her head, watching him intently.

“Mike the Brave.” He said as he pulled the knight minifig from his backpack, holding it up for Holly to see. “Mike the Brave is never scared. So, whenever I’m feeling frightened or nervous, I just imagine that he’s at my side, and I feel better.”

Holly smiled, listening and taking in every word.

“So maybe the next time you get scared,” He continued, “you don’t need this Mr. Whatsit. Maybe you just need- Holly the Heroic.”

“Holly the Heroic?”

“I was gonna wait a few more years, but…” Mike reached into his bag again, pulling out a small figure of a girl in a blue dress and yellow cape, standing proud and unafraid. “She’s a cleric, which means she has divine powers. She can cast spells of protection to ward against evil spirits.”

Holly gently took the figure from her brother, turning it over in her hand.

“I mean come on. Can this lame-o Mr. Whatsit do any of this?”

She laughed, sniffling in the tears that threatened to escape. “No.”

“She’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

一☐一

Holly really did grow to resemble Will.

She was gentle in the same way Will was; quiet, observant. She liked to draw, that artistic spark that couldn’t be traced anywhere else in the Wheeler family. She was sensitive and kind, she shared every quality that Will used to exhibit.

Maybe that’s why Mike made ‘Holly the Heroic’ a cleric in the first place; the same class Will had been.

Maybe that’s why the demo targeted her that night. The same way it did Will.

The Squawk was alive with noise. Too many voices filled the air at once; ideas and half-baked plans overlapping and breaking down before they even got a chance to be fleshed out. Too many bodies filled the space; everyone was there. Every corner of the room was crowded. The party, the older kids, the adults, everyone found themselves huddled together in the too-small radio shack.

The kids crowded around a coffee table, arguments and strategies bouncing off each other as fast as they formed. No one could sit still for long. Steve paced the hallway, his footsteps rhythmically hitting the floor as he talked through contingencies with Robin; who was leaning against the wall, hands fidgeting with her sleeves as she watched him with narrow eyes. Jonathan stayed close with Nancy and Joyce, voices low and urgent. He kept a watchful eye on El, as if afraid to let her out of his reach. Hopper and Murray occupied the doorway, laying out materials and equipment with grim precision.

Mike rubbed his hands over his face, groaning as yet another dumb idea was thrown out.

“I’m just saying!” Dustin shouted over the noise, “We need to act fast!”

“Obviously,” Mike hissed, “She’s my sister. You think I don’t want to do this as fast as possible?”

“Remind me again why El doesn’t just use her powers to find her?” Lucas questioned.

Max responded with a swift slap to his chest. “Dude!” She whispered sharply, “She had a massive migraine and passed out last time, remember? It didn’t work.”

A couple hours prior, El had attempted to search for Holly through her mind. Something, or someone, broke her connection and shoved her out. El wouldn’t say what it was, or more specifically, she couldn’t. She was left with an ear splitting pain in her head that caused her to black out for a couple of minutes. Luckily, she came too with no serious injuries, but she was unable to find any hints towards Holly’s whereabouts.

“We could split up.” Dustin suggested, hands waving wildly in the air. “Everyone goes into the upside down, we cover more ground and-”

“That’s how people get killed.” Steve cut in immediately.

Nancy leaned forward. “We can’t risk anyone’s lives. We need a smarter plan.”

“We can’t keep waiting like this Nance!” Mike called out, frustration building in his voice.

“I know, Mike.” She responded, “But we can’t be dumb about it.”

“We were too slow last time!”

The words hung in the air, like a heavy blanket settling over everyone, leaving the room silent for the first time that night.

Mike swallowed, jaw clenching as he forced himself to continue. “With Will,” he added quieter. “We didn’t know what was happening last time, and when we finally figured it out, it was too late…”

Joyce stared down at the floor, hand firmly holding onto Jonathan’s sleeve.

“I’m just saying,” Mike continued, more timid than before. “We can’t let that happen again. Not to Holly. Not to anyone.”

El had been silent since she woke up, watching as everyone else discussed the plans. She sat on the couch close to Jonathan, leaning on him ever so slightly. Ever since Hopper and Joyce had officially gotten together, El had been taken into the Hopper-Byers family with open arms. Jonathan, especially, had taken the role of older brother very seriously; hovering close, watching carefully, determined to not lose another sibling to that place.

“I could try again.” She spoke up finally.

Jonathan’s head snapped toward her, “Jane-”

“She’s scared.” El interrupted, meeting his eyes with a resolve that made him go silent. “I need to help.”

Jonathan clenched his jaw, a dozen arguments and disputes rising to the surface before sinking back down. He wanted to disagree, to come up with any reason for her not to put her health at risk, but deep down he knew it was the only option they had.

Hopper let out a long breath, dragging his hand down his face as he contemplated the options. The room stilled, waiting for him to announce the next steps.

“Alright kid,” He said finally. “You can go in. But the moment anything goes wrong, the moment you are in any danger, I’m pulling you out of there.”

El nodded once.

“Alright!” Murray called out, “Let’s do this!” Instantly, he began ushering people around, muttering about equipment and timing. Everyone scattered, going about their tasks to get the tank prepared. 

Soon the tank was ready, and people began to filter out of the space. Footsteps retreated into the other rooms to give El the quiet required to focus. Joyce, Hopper, and Jonathan stayed behind, sitting by her side as she lowered into the water.

Joyce gathered El’s hair into a clean bun, fingers moving through the curls the same way they had a hundred times before. When she finished, she leaned down and cupped El’s face in her palms, thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.

“Alright,” she whispered, “Be safe in there, Jane.”

El smiled and placed her hand over top of Joyce’s. “I will, Mom.”

Joyce turned away before her expression could break, crossing to stand beside Jonathan as El pulled the bandana down over her eyes. Hopper eased her the rest of the way into the water, giving her hand a final, steady squeeze before lowering the lid into place. Jonathan’s foot bounced against the floor, restless and uneasy. His gaze was fixed on the tank, El now completely obscured from view.

El sat still for a moment, tank dissolving around her and filtering into the pitch darkness of her mindscape. She reached out within her mind, searching.

“Holly?” She called out, the sound anchoring her in space. Slowly, the darkness shifted, morphing into the familiar warped landscape of the Upside Down. Shapes bled into existence; crooked trees, broken earth, the familiar rot of the place seeped into her senses as she examined the horizon.

A crooked tree loomed in the distance with a small figure standing beneath it. El crept closer. She focused her vision to make out the sad details of the boy in front of her.

He was pale, thin, and hauntingly familiar. His head was bowed with long brown hair dancing in front of his face. He stood still. His shoulders drawn in close to the center of his body while his fingers clung to the tether in his hands. The boy took in a long, deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment as if contemplating the options in front of him.

A deep, unrelenting sadness bloomed in El’s chest. Her breath hitched as she looked at the boy, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.

He stepped forward, sinking down slightly as he stepped off the log. His breath stuttered, catching in his throat.

“No-” El gasped. She lunged forward, attempting to reach the boy. She realized, afterwards, that she had no way to make physical contact with him.

A screech slammed into El like a physical blow, sending her falling back from her feet. The ground convulsed beneath her as the creature bound through the air toward them.

It was fast; furious; its anger was directed not at El, but at the boy.

Its lanky, sharp fingers tore through the air in an instant. The boy wrenched back violently as the rope gave way with a sharp snapping sound.

He dropped, slamming into the cold, dirt floor.

He coughed violently, clawing at his throat as the ashened air flooded back to his lungs. He crumpled in on himself, his entire body was shaking. Sobs echoed out from him quietly as he buried his face in his arms. He laid still for a moment, as if he were ashamed to still be breathing.

The Demogorgon snarled, looming over the boy. It hadn’t saved him. It claimed him, keeping him trapped in this unforgiving world.

El stumbled back, breath uneven as the demo’s head slowly turned to face her. It snarled and stood over the boy. It couldn’t see her, but it sensed her. It knew that she was there, and it was angry.

As if noticing the monster’s movement, the boy looked up slowly. He scanned the space where El stood. For a moment, just a short instance, he looked at her, not through her, at her, as if she were there with him.

Recognition fluttered in her mind for a faint moment. She knew him. How did she know him? Before she could place the memory, a deep sound echoed through her mind.

“Get out.” Henry’s voice pressed on her skull. It wasn’t a suggestion.

The ground fractured, light splintered as El was ripped from the space. Her head pounded as the tank slowly filtered back into her vision.

She gasped, banging on the lid of the tank as the world came back into focus. It’s too loud. Too bright. Her head burned red as if it were splitting down the center. In a moment, the lid was suddenly gone and she found herself pulled from the water by strong hands.

“Hey- El! Jane!” Hopper called, water spilling over the rim of the tank as he pulled her into his arms.

Joyce and Jonathan were at her side instantly. Joyce rubbed steady, soothing circles on her back, helping her to slowly calm down.

“Easy.” she said softly, “You’re okay. You’re here.”

Jonathan wrapped a towel gently around El’s shoulders. They sat like that for a quiet moment while her breathing slowly steadied. Afterwards, El gently pushed herself back to look Hopper in the eyes.

“I- I didn’t find Holly.” She started, “But, there was someone else…”

“What?” Jonathan’s stomach dropped. “Someone else? Someone else in the Upside Down?”

El nodded hesitantly. “A boy.”

“Another kid?” Joyce asked.

“No. Well- maybe. He was older than Holly, but still a kid.” She answered. “He seemed like he’s been there for a while.”

The room stilled, no one quite knew what to say.

“He was hurt,” El continued, words forming cautiously as if she was afraid to say the wrong thing. “He was alone. And he was sad… very sad. He- He didn’t want to be there, anywhere, anymore.”

Jonathan’s jaw tightened as he took in the words, imagining the poor boy in the other dimension. In the back of his mind a small, horrifying thought forced itself in.

Could it be him..? Is it W- No. It’s not him. He’s gone. You can’t let yourself think like that.

“But,” El started again, “the Demogorgon stopped him; saved him. It didn’t want him gone. Henry didn’t want him gone. And Henry… he didn’t want me to see, he forced me out.”

The words lingered in the air for a long moment.

“Alright.” Hopper cleared his throat, getting the attention back on himself. “That’s enough for today.”

Joyce nodded, offering a gentle smile to El. “You did everything you could, sweetheart. You should rest.”

They helped El to her feet, guiding her to the door. They couldn’t get more information on Holly, but they got something else instead. Someone else was there, someone else that needed saving.

一☐一

The Squak was brimming with life yet again. Steve and Robin were at the back wall packing supplies into duffel bags, metal weapons and tool clinking softly as they were organized and reorganized. Hopper and Murray were back at their post at the door, their voices were low as they went over plans with Jonathan, combing out the finer details. Everyone moved in sync, darting and arching over each other as they prepared.

El sat curled on the corner of the couch, watching it all happen around her. She had changed into warm clothes; thick sleeves pulled down over her hands and fuzzy socks pulled up to her calves. Her hair was tied up in a towel that was already beginning to slip loose. She watched as Jonathan and Hopper made their final preparations.

“I’m going!” Mike shouted across the noise. “She’s my sister too!”

Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose, watching as Mike rattled off every reason he should be joining the crawl. When he finally ran out of breath, she looked at him sternly

“No.” She said finally. “You’re staying here Mike.”

“Wha-” He looked at her, stunned. He honestly hadn’t expected to be denied; not by her, not about this. “It’s Holly.”

“Yes. And we are going to get her back.” Nancy said, motioning to Hopper and the others. “But I need you to stay here. Stay on the walkies. Until we know for certain where Holly is, you’re not going in there.”

Mike’s mouth hung agape, mind scrambling to come up with a retort. Every thought bounced off the others, every argument coming up useless in his mind. He swallowed and glanced around the room. He was looking to the party, searching for anyone to back him up. Lucas wasn’t there; he was with Max in another room. Dustin hadn’t heard Mike and Nancy talking because he was too busy arguing with Steve and Robin about basically the same exact thing. Then his eyes fell on El.

“I- I could help.” She spoke up after catching Mike’s nonverbal plea.

“No.” Jonathan responded instantly, shutting down the small glimmer of hope in Mike’s mind.

“Until we have more information,” Hopper cut in, voice firm, “all of you kids are staying here.” He looked around the room when he said it, forcing eye contact with every member of the party arguing to go.

El nodded slowly, reclining back in her seat. A mix of disappointment and relief crossed her face, like she already knew how this would go and had accepted the outcome. Dustin sank down into the spot beside her with a heavy sigh. He shot a betrayed look towards Steve, who only continued packing the supplies in front of him.

“This is so not fair!” Mike snapped, refusing to let the issue settle. “‘Stay on the walkies’? What bullshit! I can help. I can help.”

That now-familiar thought pressed into him: If he didn’t help, if he didn’t do everything he could, what would happen to Holly? Would it end the same way? Would she be stuck to the same fate as him?

“This isn’t up for debate Mike!” Nancy shot back. “You’re staying here.”

He swallowed hard, staring down at the floor by Nancy’s feet. There was no more pushing this, Nancy wouldn’t budge.

一☐一

1987 - Hawkins Indiana (Upside Down Dimension)

The boy laid on the viney floor for what felt like a lifetime, though it could have been only a couple of minutes. He could never tell anymore; time was weird like that here, or was it him?

The demogorgon had disappeared. It kept him alive, kept him from the only solace he could find in this place, then it just left. The ground beneath him felt cold and damp, seeping through his clothes and into his bones in that oh-so familiar sensation. He didn’t bother getting up.

His fingers moved towards his throat without him really thinking about it. The skin there was red and bruised, angry beneath his touch. He pressed his thumb there for a second. The area screamed at him as white-hot pain flashed in his vision. His hand dropped back to the dirt in an instant.

Hopefully this memory will disappear with all the others.

His eyes drifted about the space around him, scanning the area. He could’ve sworn someone had been there. It wasn’t the same as the usual hallucinations, he couldn’t see anyone, but he felt them. It was close, familiar, like someone standing just on the other side of a door he couldn’t see through.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

No. It wasn’t real. It’s never real. It was just another trick his mind came up with to make him feel better for still being here- still being alive.

Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, then up to his knees, brushing the dirt from his palms and clothes. Whatever might’ve been there before, it was gone now. It was best not to think about whatever it could’ve been.

The boy steadied himself and began heading back towards his base when a piercing sound shot through the air. The usually eerie-calm forest vibrated to life as the sound of a child’s voice called out for help.

He froze.

Hallucination, his mind offered quickly. Just another voice layered over the others to overload his mind and cause his focus to shift.

His body didn’t listen. His feet were moving towards the sound before his brain could process. If it were fake, then he would figure that out soon. If it were real, then he had to get there. Even if there was just the slightest chance at it being a real person, he had to try.

He couldn’t just ignore it.

The sound came again, closer this time, ripping through the trees. He broke into a run, boots slamming against the dirt path ahead of him as he sprinted towards the sound. The screams dissolved into breathless cries as he got closer, making the boy's chest ache.

As he darted through the trees, he eventually made his way to a clearing. That’s where he saw it: A demogorgon was hunched up ahead, spindly hand clinging to the ankle of a young girl. It was dragging her through the space as she thrashed and screamed in protest. Blonde pigtails whipped wildly through the air, hands clawing desperately at the debris and rocks below her.

She was alive.

She was actually alive.

Not a body. Not someone he was too late to save. Not another item on the graveyard shelf. A person.

Someone he could still reach.

He raised his weapon on instinct, breath catching as his vision began to tunnel. The world narrowed in, making it so that all he could see was the girl and the monster attacking her.

For the first time in a long, long time, his thought wasn’t about surviving the night.

It was about saving someone.

And this time, he was not going to miss his chance.