#i need eddie munson biblically

[nickynclark]

I'D BE ONE NOCTURNAL SON OF A GUN

Eddie Munson x Female! Reader

Word Count: 2,748

Content warning: SMUT (18+ only below the cut), no use of (Y/N), lowkey toxic parents, harsh language, mentions of drug use (mary jane, bby), mentions of reader being on birth control, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it for the love of god), choking and breeding if you squint.

Summary: Your parents hate Eddie Munson, and you just can't find it in you to leave the crazy haired freak.

Authors Note: Y'all this is porn with plot. And it's my first ever smut so pls be nice to me. I'll be publishing a Spencer Reid fic soon enough ;) Love ya! - nick

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Growing up, you were a perfect child. You did ballet and took piano lessons. You ate all of your vegetables. You got straight A’s. You played nicely with the other children.

So you can imagine your parents’ reaction when their perfect little girl told them about her friendship with Eddie Munson.

“That freak?” Your mom gasped, “my god, you must be joking.”

“Are you doing drugs with him?” Your dad quickly intervened.

You sat in front of them like a kicked puppy, quietly looking at your hands as they lectured you over Eddie.

You and Eddie met your freshman year of high school in chemistry class. He wasn’t good at english or science, and you were. You would help him do his homework (aka give him your answers) and he would let you sit with his odd ball friends at lunch. To you, rumors and all, he was lovely.

You two had been best friends for a long time, despite your parents' distaste. They even decided to set you up on a date with Steve Harrington your senior year: a sad attempt to separate you and Eddie.

It only lasted a week or two, and when you explained the situation to Steve, he understood. He was kind and promised to never let your parents know you even broke up.

“I could tell,” Steve said on your last date, “your head is always somewhere else. No sweat.”

To your parents, you are back to their perfect daughter. But everyday after school, when your parents think you're at a study hall, you're in the little room with a group of ‘freaks’, Eddie wearing the crown.

***

Eddie displayed the table in front of him, with only two characters left standing- yourself and Vecna.

“There is nothing wrong with running, sweetheart." Eddie's tone is cocky, "You can walk away now, everything will be okay.”

You squint up at him, “when have you ever known me to run?”

Eddie just laughs, signature smirk on his lips, “then roll.”

You grab the twenty sided die, fondling it in your hand. You roll the die between your fingers, a focused look on your face.

“C'mon! Just walk away,” Mike whispered, “if you roll then you can lose. Walking away isn’t a loss.”

“Shut up, Freshy,” you smile and elbow him in the side, “you’ve only been with me through one campaign. I never run away.”

You bring the die up to your lips and blow on it, keeping eye contact with Eddie through the process. He keeps his signature smirk on his face, but his eyes are nervous.

With a final smile, the die leaves your hand, rolling across the table, clambering it’s way down.

When it stops, Eddie looks down with a smile on his face, “natural twenty, sweetheart," he looks back up to you, "that's a hit."

The group at the table erupted into cheers, Dustin laughing at Eddie while pointing aggressively.

“Well done, Princess.” Eddie smiles and sits back in his throne.

**

After all the boys clear out, it’s just you and Eddie in the Hellfire room. Eddie let his smile falter as soon as they were gone; you knew he hated to lose a campaign, but it was always a little easier on him when you were the last man standing.

You walk towards him and stand in between his spread knees, “hi,” you look down at his slumped body, “hell of a campaign, you know. I was convinced I wasn’t going to roll right, you know my luck.”

Eddie looks at you shyly, “I know, Sweetheart. But I was really expecting a loss from you guys.”

“You always are, Eds.”

He smiles and sits up a little bit, “you’re right,” then he shifts himself to lean closer to you, “how’s Harrington?”

You step back from him with a small smile, “Done. He couldn’t handle me.”

Eddie sits up all the way, smirking, “no one can, Princess,” his hands lift to rest on your hips, “except me, my Queen of Hellfire.”

You laugh, “it was my call, though. He wasn’t my guy.”

“How so?”

You step back up into him looking down at him, “he’s not tall enough, he doesn’t have enough tattoos,” Eddie begins to stand up to tower over you, “he doesn’t smoke, and, most of all,” you move your hand to his hair, his face inches away from yours, “he doesn’t have good enough curly hair.”

Eddies breath hitches in his throat, clearly nervous and excited, and, when you almost gave in, your parent’s voice came into your head.

You back up from him reluctantly “It was a great campaign, Eds.”

And you walked out of the room listening for Eddie to call for you, but he never did.

**

Two days later, your parents were at church while you stayed home. Around 10 o'clock that morning, you heard a knock on the door. You quickly pulled your hair back and went to the front door. When you opened it, you were shocked to see Eddie standing in front of you, hair disheveled, still in his flannel pajama bottoms and a crinkled white shirt, smelling of weed and a his woody cologne.

He looked down at you as if you were a stranger before speaking, “why did you do that?”

“Eddie, why did I do what?”

“Friday. After Hellfire. Why did you do that?” He reached his hand up to rest on your cheek, “did you not know what you do to me?”

You stutter out an apology, “Eds, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would upset you-“

“Upset me?” Eddie laughed, “Sweetheart, I need to know if it was a play. Did you mean what you said?”

You look into his chocolate eyes before finally giving in, lean into his warm touch, “yes, Eddie, god, yes, I meant every word.”

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, and the entire time you couldn’t stop thinking about how bad you needed to know how he tasted, and now you knew: a beautiful mix of mint and herb.

As you pulled away panting, he rested his forehead against yours.

“My parents will kill me if they see you here,” you tell him quietly through kisses.

He picked you up bridal style, kissing your forehead and whispering “I won’t let them,” while he carries you upstairs to your room.

You planted gentle kisses to his neck until he dropped you onto your bed, leaning over you and kissing you roughly. As he kissed you, his hands found their way to your hips and yours around his neck.

“Fuck, Princess, I’ve waited for this for too damn long,” Eddie whispered into your neck where he was sucking and biting, attacking the soft skin connecting your neck and shoulder.

You started to tug on his hair, “Eds,” and he pulled up and looked at you, “you are my perfect person.”

He smiled softly and kissed your lips, hands finding your pajama shorts and slipping his pinkie underneath the band, touching more of your bare hips. Your back arched up into his grip as his rings chilled your skin, and he smirked into your kiss.

“Eddie, please,” you whine to him.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“Anything, Eddie, please.”

Eddie looks up at you before his hands fully grip your waistband, “are you sure?”

You lift your hips, begging, “yes, Eddie, god yes, please.”

He smirked, pulling down your sleep shorts, “easy, Tiger.”

As soon as your shorts are down your legs, you are pulling off the lace thong that conceals you from him.

When he notices this, he’s sliding down to the foot of your bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you down with him. He makes easy work of spreading your thighs, smiling as he sees your already wet pussy.

“Damn, Sweetheart, is all of this for me?” He mumbles as he moves his hand up to spread your lips, getting a better view.

You whine at the contact, “yes Eddie, all for you.”

Eddie starts to plant open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs while he slowly slides one of his ringed fingers inside of you, watching you wiggle at the sensitive contact. He starts to suck deep purple bruises onto your thighs as he inserts another finger, quickly curling and scissoring them, smiling as you moan loudly at his doing, your hands finding their way to his hair.

“Eddie, god, babe, your mouth, please,” you whine loudly, causing him to bite down on your thigh.

“You want my mouth, darling? Want my tongue?” You whimper in response, “Words, baby.”

You huff loudly, “yes, Eds, I need your mouth on me.”

He licked a thick stripe up your opening to your clit, moaning at the taste. He took your clit it into his mouth and started sucking lightly, causing you to see stars.

He continued to eat you out like his life depends on it, his fingers finding their way back inside of you, working you closer and closer to your orgasm.

He adds one more finger, stretching you out so fully arounds his three large digits, and licking and sucking so feverishly you don’t know how much longer you can last.

“Eddie, baby, fuck-“ you moan, grinding on his tongue, “I’m going to cum. Fuck, can I come? Should I even be asking you?”

Eddie laughs at you rambling, sending a vibration through your pussy up to the knot in your stomach.

He keeps working you until your thighs are shaking and trying to close around his head. He works you into a mewling mess, and only then does he pull away just enough to say, “come on my tongue, princess.”

His lips reconnect with you, working you through your high, your moans loud until you finally come to a stop.

Eddie climbs up your body, kissing you feverishly, and you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Baby, you’re so sweet. Could eat you out forever.”

You smile and kiss him, sitting up, “your turn.”

He stands up, and you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches happily as you work his pants off of him, your eyes growing at the print of him in his boxers. He was long and thick, and had a glorious spot of pre-cum on the fabric. You connect your lips to the wet spot, moaning at the salty flavor.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie placed a hand on your cheek pulling you away from him, “we can stop at any time. You don’t have to do this.”

You smile up at him from your knees, “I want to. Stop worrying.”

He looks down at you lovingly, swiping your cheek with his thumb, “then, as much as I love how it looks on you, that hellfire shirt’s got to go.”

You raise your arms as he pulls it off of you, groaning at the sight of your braless chest.

You quickly pull down his boxers, admiring the beautiful cock in front of you. It’s thick and even longer than it looked when concealed. It has a vein running along the side of it, and his tip is a pretty pink color with a bead of pre-cum leaking out of his slit.

You lean in and place a quick kiss to his tip before taking it into your mouth, sucking softly on his cock, then quickly pulling off.

“Of course your cock would be pretty too,” you smile before licking a stripe underneath him, then taking him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

He moans loudly, his hands gripping your hair as you settle on a tempo, occasionally popping off to breathe or spit onto his dick.

“Sweetheart, holy hell,” Eddie moans as you look up at him as innocently as you can with a mouth stuffed with his cock, “I can’t tell if you came from, fuck, heaven or hell with that mouth. I could have had this this entire time?”

You hum around him in agreement, causing him to moan again.

After a little while of constant sucking, a sore jaw, and hands gripping his thighs, he stills your head and begins fucking your face.

You gag around him at the intrusion, then you settle into the pace, meeting him half way.

“Fuck, darling, I won’t last. Sweetheart, god fuck-“ he pulls away from me before he’s able to finish.

“Why’d you-“

He smiles, “ I want to cum inside you for our first time,” he rushes over to his pants and feels the pocket, “shit. I left my wallet at home, do you have condoms?”

You shake your head quietly.

He sighs, “it’s okay, I’ll just-“

“I'm on the pill.”

He smiles, “you sure?” And you nod.

As he climbs on top of you, with a panicked look, he starts, “you promise this isn’t some weird way of getting child support out of me? ‘Cause selling weed doesn’t exactly pay the-“

You laugh loudly, “Hey, Eddie?”

“Hey, baby?”

You look at him with doe eyes, “wanna fuck me?”

He groans loudly, “God, I thought you’d never ask.”

He climbed on top of you, spreading your legs apart and lining his dick up with your slick hole, “you ready, sweetheart?”

You smile softly, “yes, please.”

As soon as you feel the tip of him slip inside of you, a loud moan leaves your lips, your eyes widening and your hands gripping Eddies back.

He rests his head on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses on your neck, “I know baby, I know. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He slowly pushes in further until he’s all the way inside of you, then he stills to allow you to adjust to his size.

His teeth sink into the skin of your neck as he grunts, "you're so tight, Baby."

You whimper at the praise, “God, Eddie, move, please god, fuck me.”

He didn't need any more convincing. His hips suddenly snap in and out of you with fever. The sound of skin hitting skin and your moans mixing together fills your small room.

Eddie bites and sucks on your chest, moaning at the sensation, “fuck, princess, 's like you were made for me. Can’t wait to ruin this sweet pussy of yours.”

As Eddie keeps talking, fucking you harder and faster, your head is spinning with ecstasy, moans slipping out of your mouth faster than you can stop them, until, quickly, Eddie pushes one of your knees to your chest, pushing himself even deeper inside of you.

“Fuck, Eds. Right there, baby! Shit!”

Eddie moves one of his hands to your throat, pounding into you rapidly, showing no mercy to your body.

“Eds, fuck! I’m gunna cum, can I please fucking cum?” Your moans echo around the small room.

Eddie holds onto you tightly, his thrusts becoming sloppy and irregular, “hang on, sweetheart, I’m almost there,” he thrusts quickly, “where do you want it?”

You drag your nails down his back, “inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

You moan, “yes! Eddie, please! Fill me up with your cum, please!”

He groans and thrusted once or twice more, “cum, baby, cum with me.”

The knot that built in your stomach untied as you felt hot spurts of cum filling you up. You let out loud whimpers of ecstasy while Eddie rocked you through it, whispering sweet praises into your ear.

As you finished, he rolled off of you, laying next to you on your bed.

“Wow.”

You giggle in agreement, “definitely wow.”

Suddenly, the front door slams open, “honey, we’re home!”

Your mom shouts through the house, causing you and Eddie to scramble getting dressed.

Your mom walked in just as you both got clothed, sitting on the bed with a magazine and him messing with his guitar pick necklace.

“Hi,” you say gently, as if Eddies cum wasn’t leaking out of you onto your light pink bed spread beneath you.

“Honey," her tone is sickly sweet, "what is he doing here?” She smiled tightly.

“Oh, him?” You point to Eddie, “we’re just hanging out. He is my boyfriend you know.”

Eddie looks at you shocked before a smirk settles on his kiss swollen lips, and he reaches out to hold your hand.

Your mom looks at you, her smile now a glare.

“You can either leave this man, or never see the light of day again.”

Eddie stood up and grabbed his shoes, preparing to leave. His lips sat in a frown.

He thought this was over.

“Hey babe?” You grab his arm.

“Huh?” He looked at you confused.

You give him a quick kiss and your mom gasps, “I’ll see you at sunset.”

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Taglist: @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @deadbolted

To join taglist just dm me!! i'm new here and would love some new friends!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #i need eddie munson biblically #eddie munson imagine

[haillordvecnaa]

quick warmup doodle inspired by @pinkrelish‘s mechanic!eddie

#i need him biblically #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #i want to eat him #eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #digital art #digital doodle #eddie munson fanart #digital illustration #I actually adore TYP so much it I want to burn it into my eyelids

[msgexymunson]

5k into my monster Eddie fic. 5k!

I can't just write short things anymore. I must be a hopeless romantic, it can never be just about the smut.

Also, I'm fucking obsessed. Monster Eddie has a firm grip on my cunt heart.

#ms gexy writes #monster eddie munson #monster eddie #i need him biblically

[roanniom]

eddie telling you to behave out in public when you keep whispering things into his ear😵‍💫😵‍💫 plz i need him biblically

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, public teasing, sexual themes, Eddie has to bowl with an erection lol

“You look delicious in those jeans. Have I told you that?” you whisper, breath hot on his ear and fingers curling around his bicep as you lean close to make the comment. Eddie rolls his eyes and places a firm hand on your thigh.

“You’re playing with fire here, princess. You know that.”

That crash of a bowling ball knocking into pins should rattle you from your horniness, but you’re too distracted by the cut of Eddie’s jaw to really notice. You lean up and place a coquettish kiss to the angle of said jaw, sliding your hand from his bicep to his chest.

“What if I like fire? What if I want to make you sweat,” you mumble into his skin. Your shared friends are too busy hooting and hollering over Steve’s strike to notice the inappropriate way you’re loving on your boyfriend in such a public space.

“We’ll mission accomplished then, babe,” Eddie says with a chuckle. His hand squeezes your thigh and goes to move, but you slap yours down on top of it, pushing it up, just under the hem of your skirt.

“Fuck me in the bathroom then, if I got you so hot.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie groans. He looks up to see if anyone has noticed the way you’ve gotten him so worked up, but thankfully everyone has moved on to watching Robin prance toward the lane like a baby deer.

Eddie turns back to you, taking in your hazy eyes and the way you bite your lip. Your proposition is no joke. You really do want him to fuck you in the dirty bathroom of the Hawkins bowling. By the way you’re looking like you want to eat him whole, you’d probably even blow him if he asked, knees on the dirty tile floor and his cock so far down your throat he’d see stars.

Eddie has to take a deep breath to stop these thoughts from overwhelming him. Before he could decide what to do with you, Steve calls out to him.

“Munson! Stop eye fucking your girl, it’s your turn.”

Eddie’s head whips around to find all of his friends staring at him, a collection of amused and annoyed faces among them. He swallows hard and stands up, but his eyes shoot to you when he hears you giggle.

“Hope your turn isn’t too hard for you, Eds,” you say, staring pointedly at the erection starting to strain the front of his jeans.

“Oh fucking…” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face in exasperation. He palms himself shamelessly to keep himself tucked in his waistband, still facing you and away from his friends. You bite your lip again and look up at him with a smug expression on your face.

Eddie lightly grips your chin and lifts it up towards him, speaking low so only you can hear him.

“Behave. And maybe I’ll fuck you.”

“Maybe?” you ask with a pout. He leans down and kisses that pout before walking over to grab his bowling ball.

~*~

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson thots #eddie munson Drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #issa’s flying morning

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!eddie

part 2 here | ao3 link here

Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.

Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit. 

… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.

But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.

“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”

Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.

“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”

The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?

He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.

Fucking yay. 

Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.

“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.

Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”

“Right.”

“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.

The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.

“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”

Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.

But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.

Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.

Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”

Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.

The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.

“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.

Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.

“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”

“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back. 

... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.

“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.

‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.” 

Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.

Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”

“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.

Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.

They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur. 

It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.

“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.

Steve nods. “It is.”

“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”

“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”

Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”

“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”

Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”

He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.

While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.

Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.

There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.

The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne. 

Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.

Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.

Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence. 

It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.

Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.

Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…

His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.

The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”

And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.

Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.

God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.

The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.

“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.

Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.

Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”

Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.

Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”

“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”

“Not like that one though.”

“No?”

Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”

They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.

And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.

Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.

It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.

But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.

This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #so there will be two more parts - fairly short like this one #not sure if I should put this on ao3... we shall see #anyways thanks for listening xx

[jo-harrington]

Heaven - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie had written off ever finding his person. Yeah he could fool around and have some fun, but at the end of the day no one would look at him the way he wanted them to. Until you came along and, in the most unexpected way, changed his life forever.

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: Fluff, Love at First Sight, Soulmates(?), Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Implied Sexual Encounters, Implied Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Abandonment, Biblical and Other Literary References

Note: Set before Hell, we have our introduction to Reader/OC for my Van Helsing AU/Kas!Eddie series, As Above, So Below. Once again, this can be read as a stand-alone, but if you're planning on reading the eventual series, you might want to read the prequels.

That being said, this fic and the subsequent fics/chapters in the series will not be for the faint of heart. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find the As Above, So Below masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"Your place in heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it. Made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand."

—The Business of Heaven, Daily Readings from C.S. Lewis (1984)

March 1984

When Eddie met you, he had all but given up on finding love.

He had heard it all before.

He was young. He still had the rest of his life ahead of him. Maybe love wasn't in Hawkins. He just needed to have patience.

But it stung to watch the others receive affection, care, and understanding when he waited. Wanting, deserving, but never receiving.

Until you walked into the Hideout, wet and weary after a long drive to an unfamiliar place in unforgiving conditions.

You weren't some spectacular beauty, or otherworldly siren, or heavenly angel that he would expect in a fantasy novel or a DnD game. You were, quite frankly, a mess. But as you turned and nodded your head along to the music, Eddie swore his heartbeat was louder than Mickey's relentless assault on the drums.

He approached you at the end of the set as you sat at the bar nursing a cherry coke and circling want ads in the classified section of the Hawkins Post.

He asked you if you liked cheese fries before he even said hello.

And the laugh you made was loud and honking, but it was nevertheless perfect.

You were a disaster made, he hoped, just for him.

June 1984

“The trumpet shall sound and the dead shall rise,” Eddie muttered as he traced the words etched into your forearm. “That from the Bible?”

"Yeah."

“That’s pretty badass.”

While all of his classmates were dressed in their best clothes—their caps and gowns—being celebrated by the fanfare that befitted the class of 1984, you and Eddie were spread out in the back of his van in your underwear, studying each others tattoos after a day of swimming and skipping rocks at Lover's Lake.

It was a lazy kind of day.

You had sensed his anxiety in the days prior, when you asked about the end of the school year, about his plans after graduation. He initially wasn't going to tell you that he wouldn’t be graduating. He tried to skirt around it. But somehow you knew.

You always knew. Because you knew him.

You suggested a day out, just the two of you. Something special. As opposed to the many "dates" he had taken you on where his friends ended up tagging along. You promised you didn't mind, but he would have liked to kiss you freely without some doofus making lewd noises in the background.

But your idea had been perfect.

Graduation was played up to be some kind of achievement, something special. But how could it be when you were surrounded by a hundred other kids who all knew the same shit you did. Probably didn’t even know it, actually; they were just good at remembering it for a little while.

How could that feel special?

But this? Learning about you? It was more important than math or science or some other useless bullshit.

Knowing you—loving you—was the most special thing he could ever achieve. And he was proud to say that he was getting straight A’s.

“Listen," you started as Eddie pressed a kiss to your skin. "I know all of the love-thy-neighbor-Jesus shit is pretty lame. But…I don’t know, some things are cool.”

“Care to elaborate?” he asked.

“Some of the Saints…reliquaries, catacombs, the Book of Revelation,” you shrugged. “You can kind of choose what you want to believe in, I guess.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point of organized religion?” He huffed and rolled onto his back, pulling your arm across his torso so you could rest your head on his shoulder and your body could drape across his comfortably.

"Isn’t what the point?" You fished the sharp pendant of your necklace from between your bodies and laid it on his bare chest beside his.

His was simple, a guitar pick he'd caught at the first concert he ever attended.

Yours, intricate, a silver cross with flowers and vines intermingled around the arms. Hyacinths, you told him once. As though he knew what they were. But he made a mental note to try and find them for your birthday, since you seemed to like them enough to have a necklace with them.

“Well, it's organized. That you all believe the same…I dunno. Stories? Lessons?” He rambled on as his hand gestured absentmindedly.

“It's all just…rules made by old men,” you scoffed. “Some stuffy guy in the Vatican says…I don’t know…don’t step on a crack or you’ll break your mother’s back and earn a one way ticket to hell? And I’m supposed to believe it?”

“That’s just a superstition.” He paused for a moment and snorted. “Kind of ironic that I, a supposed devil worshiper, am telling you this, Miss Catholic School.”

You rolled your eyes at him but still smiled.

“Pretty sure if someone knows more about Satan between the two of us,” you giggled. “It’s me.”

“Shhh, you’re gonna ruin my reputation.”

July 1984

The 4th of July fell on the most perfect day.

It might have rained a little earlier that morning, but Eddie had certainly slept through it, and it made way for perfect skies and just the slightest slickness to the grass as he and the boys ran around the open fields surrounding Weathertop.

The van was full of fireworks, and Jack's mom had set them up with sandwiches and a few coolers of iced tea and lemonade. Mickey brought the beers. Eddie had the good sense to invite some of the younger guys too, which meant Gareth's mom had sent him along with a few extra pies she had made.

Apple, Strawberry Rhubarb, and Cherry—Eddie's favorite.

His mouth watered for the tantalizing summer feast, but he craved you more.

You were a little late to the party, having worked the opening shift at Bradley's, but before long your clunky, hand-me-down Marquis pulled up alongside his van.

"The freezers went down at work," you called to the boys. "So I have, like, a hundred boxes of bomb pops. Can I get some help before they melt? I have no A/C, so it’s hot as Hell."

It had just reached the height of the day, and the boys whooped and tripped over each other to get to the sweet, icy treats.

"In the backseat," you reminded them. "Not the trunk."

“Why don’t you let me take a look at your car?” Eddie asked, snaking his arms around your waist.

“To fix the a/c? If you want.” You shrugged but beamed at him. “It was my grandpa’s car. It’s on its last legs anyway.”

"At least let me look at the trunk." Eddie offered and you rolled your eyes at him, pushing him away from you playfully. "What? Then you wouldn't have to shove, like, a hundred boxes of bomb pops in the backseat."

"I swear, the trunk is just rusted shut at this point," you supplied with a laugh. "There's no use."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he pouted. He knew you knew when he was fishing for a kiss, but you gave in to his pouting anyway and immediately chased after his lips to plant one on him.

That night after the feast is consumed and everyone is enjoying the fireworks, Eddie couldn’t ignore the feeling that things were about to take a turn for the worst.

His closest friends would be gone soon, off to college and leaving him behind. His band practically broken apart, dreams shattered, if not for Gareth and Jeff.

Everything was changing.

And the only constant he could count on now was you.

He couldn’t help but worry how long it would be before you'd leave him too.

October 1984

The cicadas chirped and buzzed wildly. A mourning dove that had nested on top of the trailer in the spring and was still there and cooed restlessly, calling for a mate that had left it behind. The cheap window units Wayne had gotten from the hardware store ages ago chugged and clunked away to keep the trailer just on the side of cool enough to wear clothes.

They were sounds of summer, not fall, and most certainly not Halloween. But it was an unseasonably, disgustingly hot week, and it did nothing to help Eddie get into a chilling, haunted mindset as he planned a special one-off campaign for Hellfire on the 31st.

His repeat senior year hadn’t started off too well. The teachers were unforgiving, the students unkind. But he had promised Wayne he would try.

Things like the band and Hellfire certainly made it bearable.

You made it bearable.

You’d been working a lot of nights lately, but still made time for him and promised him special incentives and treats if he did well in school.

If he showed up on time for a week, you could have a sleepover at your apartment. Pass a test with a grade above a C, you’d tell him a secret.

He hadn’t gotten quite so good of a grade on a test yet but he had written a killer essay in English and he had negotiated your participation in Hellfire for Halloween, since the roster was slightly lacking this year. It hadn’t even taken much negotiation, really; you were just as excited to learn everything about him as he was about you.

So you’d spent a lazy Sunday afternoon with him as he explained the mechanics of the game and helped you create a character.

“…I forgot to mention if you do pick a rogue, you have proficiency in de—what’re you looking at now?”

He’d paused his lesson to grab some drinks, and when he returned, you were frozen in place, staring intently at a page in his players guide, brow furrowed. One of your hands clutched the book tightly, and the other touched the words on the page almost reverently.

He set your sodas on the nightstand and then glanced over at the book.

“Ah, we hadn’t gotten there yet,” he laughed and flopped down on the bed. “Tsk, tsk, reading ahead. But don’t worry, paladins are really cool. They pledge an oath to a deity—devote their whole lives—and then get this…divine ability so long as they uphold it. They can heal or even smite—”

You slammed the book shut at that and Eddie jumped in shock. You refused to look at him for a moment, rubbing your hands over the cover of the book in contemplation, before you looked up at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I think I’ll be a rogue,” you nodded. “That sounded really cool.”

“A-are you sure?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat and sank down into his pillows. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, nuzzled him slightly, and shoved the book back into his hands. “So what else do I need to play?”

November 1984

Eddie woke abruptly to frantic banging on the front door of the trailer.

It had been raining when he went to bed, which usually helped him sleep. At first he thought the storm had just gotten stronger. 

Until he heard your voice.

You had abandoned the front door in favor of the side door near his bedroom. You tripped over the bowl he left for the stray cats and swore viciously. He chuckled tiredly until the banging started again and his heart seized in his chest.

You weren’t knocking. Your hands were practically slapping at the door.

“Please, God, please, please.” He could hear you muttering desperately.

He kicked the soft comforter off and pushed himself out of bed to get to you. As soon as the door was open you crashed into his chest, your arms wound around his waist, and you sobbed. Great, broken sobs that made his heart break.

He was about to put his arms around you, to soothe you and ask you what was wrong, when he smelled it.

Smoke. Fire. Acrid and cloying, engulfing you.

He looked down and was shocked. You were filthy; covered in dirt and soot and muck. The edges of your clothes and the ends of your hair were singed. You were visibly shaking.

"W-what happened?" Eddie asked frantically, prying your arms from around him, trying to see if you were hurt. He froze at the sight of blood caked on your hands and wrists. His stomach churned when he noticed the streaky stains it left below your nostrils. "Are you ok? Are you hurt? What happened?"

You simply shook your head and collapsed back against him.

He couldn't help the fear that overtook him, but he stayed strong as he pulled you into the trailer. As he got you into the shower and washed...whatever happened off of you. There were no cuts or burns or bruises. He tried to ask again, once you had calmed down enough that the tears fell silently and the only sounds you made were an occasional hiccup.

The next morning you were fine. You told him there was an accident at Bradley's. But there was no report on the news or in the paper. The building was fully intact. All of the staff were present and happily employed. You had no problem going back to work; in fact, you did so with a smile on your face.

Eddie never asked.

Because he knew you had secrets.

You never told him.

Because he never got a better grade than a C.

A month after that night, though, Hawkins National Laboratory was shut down and abandoned.

January 1985

"...can't I have anything for myself. It's unfair." Your muffled voice pierced through his dreams and pulled him into awareness.

He had been a light sleeper after that night in November, especially when you stayed over. You muttered in your sleep sometimes; it would wake him. You'd shift just far enough away; that would wake him too.

You had never had a full-on conversation before, though.

"Sins of the father, and sins of his father before that. Blah blah."

He blinked the bleariness from his eyes and watched as you paced at the foot of his bed. You wore nothing but your necklace. The cross swung wildly as your arms gestured and when you turned on your heel to continue your endless back and forth. Your voice was hushed.

It was half of an argument with an unseen adversary.

“I need a break…I know I haven’t been at this for long, but I’m sick and tired of it already.”

He vaguely wondered if you were hallucinating. A bad high. You’d always been reluctant to smoke with him but he had insisted tonight. After tangled limbs and quiet declarations in the sanctuary of his bedroom. Words of worship whispered to one another. The buzz beneath his skin had felt foreign and he figured the weed could mellow it out.

Maybe it had the opposite effect on you.

But then Eddie felt it.

As awareness settled over him, he felt an unseen, suffocating presence. It felt like the days where the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, only this time...the weight of the entire universe, every atom and every molecule, every moment--past, present, and future--existed all at once in his small bedroom and crushed him flat on his bed.

You continued on your one-sided rant and he didn’t know how you managed to move so freely when he felt so trapped, pinned in place by the weight of it. He tried to get your attention but he couldn't move, couldn't breath.

In the corner of his eye he swore he could see it. Blazing fire and wings and eyes.

He gasped and looked but saw nothing there. Still, the suffocating weight closed in on him further, pressing and squeezing, crushing him. And fear gripped him tightly. He wrenched his eyes shut and for the first time, probably in his life, he prayed.

He begged for it to go away.

Because if it didn't. He was going to die.

The bed shifted with your weight as you crawled to him and as soon as your hands reached him, he could breathe again.

“Eddie, oh my god please, are you ok?” You asked frantically, cupping his face in your hands. “Please say something.”

He gasped for air and sat up, clutching your hands to his face. You were his lifeline, his savior.

He closed his eyes and a million thoughts raced through his mind.What the fuck was that? Are you ok? Maybe he had a bad high, not you? Was it a nightmare? What the fuck was that?

February 1985

Your goodbye was expected. But that didn't mean it didn't cut him straight to his core.

You had been waiting for him one Friday night after Hellfire; he had driven the guys home only to find you waiting outside the trailer. Your car was packed with your belongings, similar to the way it had been the night you had stumbled into Hawkins.

He felt like vomiting as soon as he saw you.

You fed him some story about a sick, dying grandmother. How your mother had left a message on your answering machine begging you to come back home.

"She needs me," you told him.

"I need you," he replied desperately.

You couldn't do much more than shake your head and break down in tears.

"I'll come back," you promised. "It won't be long. Just wait for me."

In hindsight, he wished he had screamed and cried and begged you to stay. He wished that he had offered to go with you. Chicago wasn't that far. Wayne would have been mad, but then...Eddie would still have you.

Eddie was a good liar, though. He could fool anyone if he tried hard enough. He could even lie to himself.

He smiled and nodded and pretended to understand.

"Sure," he agreed. "I'll wait."

Your eyes started watering and you pulled him into the tightest hug. He wrapped his arms around you numbly, and as he did, he vaguely remembered some bullshit myth--

How humans were created...conjoined together. 4 arms, 4 legs, a head with two faces...but the Gods feared their power, split them in two. Condemned them to spend their lives apart.

--And he wished that he had some sort of secret, divine power to meld himself back together with you. Because surely, you belonged there with him. And if he concentrated on squeezing you just right, you would simply fuse together and you would never be apart again.

Life didn't work that way though.

You reluctantly pulled away from him and pressed a wet kiss to his lips.

Before you got in the car to drive away forever, you took off your necklace and pressed the cross into his hand. It practically burned.

"Don't lose that," you told him. "I'll be back for it."

He closed his fist around it and nodded, unable to trust himself with words.

He watched as you drove away, stayed standing outside until he couldn't see your tail lights anymore.

He let himself in the trailer, glad that Wayne was still at work--

You'd be back. You promised. You loved him. He loved you. You told him almost everything. You brought him hope. And care. And you made him feel complete. You'd be back.

--as he threw your necklace into the furthest corner of the room.

As he screamed in agony.

“Life moves very fast. It can go from Heaven to Hell in a matter of seconds.”

—Eleven Minutes, Paulo Coelho (2003)

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson #As Above So Below

[gerrystamour]

just one more drink, please come inside [one shot]

Explicit★Steddie★1400 Words★Complete

[ PREVIOUS FIC ]

Summary: ‘Man, this DJ really does suck,’ Eddie thought with no small amount of amusement as another poorly timed mix was allowed to play. In the poor guy’s defense, he was a little distracted Part of my series of unrelated pwp fics after I got sad that a bunch of thot job options for Steve lost to bartender in a Tumblr poll. CW: Public sex, Oral sex, Undernegotiated kink, Deepthroating, Throat pie, Eddie Munson is Steve Harrington’s good boy

[ READ ON AO3 ]

‘Man, this DJ really does suck,’ Eddie thought with no small amount of amusement as another poorly timed mix was allowed to play. In the poor guy’s defense, he was a little distracted. 

With that thought, Eddie pulled back to catch his breath around the thick cock in his mouth, sucking and lapping at the head hungrily. Working the head was his favourite part of any blowjob, especially with particularly handsy partners like Steve apparently was. The hand twisting roughly in his hair was almost enough to make up for Eddie not being able to hear him. 

The club was understandably loud, and Steve’s set-up was up a set of stairs so they were well out of sight. Honestly, if there wasn’t someone always up there, Eddie would consider it a great place for hook-ups. It was private and plenty intimate given the cramped space. It was a revelation because he never gave it much thought before. This domain was that of his best friends, Jeff and Gareth, so Eddie never dreamed of invading it. 

But when Eddie looked up at the DJ booth to see who exactly was doing such a piss-poor job (since it obviously wasn’t either of his friends), he nearly choked on his own spit. The man upstairs spinning discs was absolutely gorgeous, and Eddie needed to know him immediately in the Biblical sense. 

“Pretty sure none of the stuff that just came out of your mouth is in the Bible, Eddie,” Chrissy said blandly, but Eddie was already walking away and toward the stairs. 

Eddie wasn’t even sure how he made it to the top because it felt like he just blinked and then he was standing in the booth next to the man. The gorgeous God in human flesh glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, his expression so beautifully bitchy that Eddie was ready to bend right over the turntable and offer up his hole. 

“Hi,” Eddie said with a big grin, carefully placing his hand on the table and leaning heavily, tipping closer to the DJ until he leaned away a bit. “I’m Eddie.” 

For a long moment, the DJ looked like he was going to ignore Eddie completely before he replied, “Steve.”

“Oh, that’s an easy name to remember. Steve,” Eddie said, as if testing the name on his tongue. Humming, Eddie tested it a few more times, his voice pitching up, going breathier on each repeat until he was outright moaning it. 

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, and God, that bitchy expression was back and going straight to Eddie’s dick. 

“Got a request for ya, big boy,” Eddie replied, his voice practically a purr as he leaned in even closer. 

Somehow, Steve’s expression turned even bitchier, as if that would make Eddie any less ready to jump his fucking bones. Then he wordlessly pointed at the sign just over Eddie’s shoulder:

‘NO REQUESTS’

“Oh, no, it wasn’t going to be one of those requests. How silly of me not to specify,” Eddie said, jokingly popping himself on the forehead with the heel of his palm.

“Listen, man, I’m just a bouncer, but the DJ for tonight called in sick and I’m the only one on who knows anything about this shit. So, can you finish whatever game you’re playing?” Steve said with a huge exasperated sigh, and Eddie sort of felt bad for messing with him.

Only sort of.

Grinning, Eddie leaned in really close and murmured against Steve’s ear, “BJ for the DJ?”

Steve was caught so off-guard by the request that he snorted and blinked down at the turntable before looking back at Eddie’s shit-eating grin. “That your best line?”

“Is it working?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly at Steve. 

Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Steve smiled almost grudgingly as he looked at the buttons again. “I’m off in an hour,” he finally replied, and Eddie giggled.

“No need to wait, big boy,” he crooned and before Steve could say anything, Eddie sidled between him and the turntable and slid to his knees underneath it.

‘Fuck, ‘big boy’ indeed,’ Eddie thought, moaning as he bobbed his head on Steve’s thick cock, his hole twitching at the thought of having that girth inside him. Sucking sloppily, Eddie reached up to fondle Steve’s heavy balls, rolling them gently in his hand and squeezing them just to see how he liked that. From the burst of salty precum on his tongue and the hand twisting viciously in his hair, Eddie figured he really liked that.

With a low sound, Eddie reached further back, just to press a fingertip against Steve’s taint, and the reaction was glorious. Yes, Steve’s hips jerked forward and gagged Eddie. Yes, the ensuing noise Eddie made around Steve’s cock and the amount of spit that dribbled from his mouth in thick strands were gross.

But, Jesus H Christ, did Eddie live for that rough treatment.

With a gurgling, desperate moan, Eddie curled his fingers into the belt loops on Steve’s pants and pulled him forward, hoping he got the hint. The beautiful, gorgeous, perfect man above him was quick to react, shifting the hand in his hair to the back of his head before driving his dick deep into Eddie’s mouth.

It got even messier from there, with Eddie gagging when he mistimed a swallow and spit and tears wetting his face, and Christ Steve was a vision above him. Eddie gazed up at him adoringly, watching the muscle in his jaw tense with every thrust, his eyes still resolutely on the turntable in front of him. The music was barely even audible to Eddie at this point, the only noises his ears were able to pick up being the sucking, wet slide of a cock inside his mouth and his own wanton sounds.

Then Steve tapped on Eddie’s head, a warning, and when Eddie just pressed closer the man dragged him forward until his nose was buried in the coarse cloud of hair around the base. Taking a slow breath in through his nose, Eddie closed his eyes and hummed, shivering happily as Steve spilled straight down his throat. 

Eddie was painfully hard in his pants, and he wanted Steve’s hands on him so fucking badly, but when Eddie tried to pull him to the floor, the brute slapped his hands away. Whining around the softening cock in his mouth, Eddie looked pleadingly up at Steve through his tear-soaked lashes.

Steve swallowed thickly as he finally looked down at him. “I’m still on the clock,” he said, loud enough for Eddie to hear as he shifted his hips back, slipping out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m so fucking hard,” Eddie complained, and Steve pouted condescendingly down at him.

“Should’ve thought about that before you sucked my dick while I was at work,” Steve teased, and Eddie whined.

“How was I supposed to know you took your job so seriously?” he asked pitifully, and Steve just stuck his lip out further, mocking him. That wasn’t helping Eddie’s boner one bit.

With a put-upon sigh, Steve shifted his weight and slid a booted foot between Eddie’s legs. “If you can’t wait ‘till the end of my shift and you absolutely need me to get you off, there,” he said pointedly as he reached down and put his cock away before getting back to work on the turntable.

Eddie stared up at Steve, shocked, then down at the boot between his legs. The choice was agonizing—rub one out now on the floor under a turntable, or wait until Steve’s shift was over and then let the man take care of him properly. His dick begged for the former, and Eddie couldn’t help the way he rocked down against Steve’s foot.

But then he stopped himself, dropping his head against Steve’s hip with a whine as he lifted himself up onto his knees. “You’re so fucking mean,” he groused, and he shivered at the laugh that pulled from Steve. One of his big hands was petting his hair, as if trying to soothe him.

“Yeah, but I can tell you like ‘em mean, don’t you?” Steve asked, and this time when Eddie looked up, that bitchy expression was back and—oh, fuck, this guy had Eddie’s number the second he walked in there.

Shivering, Eddie dropped his forehead back against Steve’s hip and grinned down at the floor, settling in to wait until Steve’s shift ended.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Taglist! (from memory because my laptop is dead and with it my note with my taglist) @scarcrossdlvrs @patchworkgargoyle @inairbinad @stobinesque @xenon-demon @hellion-child @spectrum-spectre @sidekick-hero @yournowheregirl @thefreakandthehair @estrellami-1 @mylilplanet @theheadlessphilosopher @spicysix @steddieas-shegoes @spookednsaucy @matchingbatbites @hangsters

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #steddie fic #GoodBoyEddie.

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer - Part 14

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 8k

warnings: fluff, allusions to sex/sexual content, swearing, slight angst (Edward J. Munson continues to be the most dramatic person on the planet) mentions of Barb's death/violence

a.n.: this was a much longer chapter that I had to split up for the sake of my sanity - taglist continues to be broken, sorry chat! if you would like to stay updated you should probably just follow me at this point because we're seriously almost done here

It takes you much longer to make it back to the trailer than it had to leave it behind, simply because Eddie can’t stop himself from pulling you close every couple of steps to kiss you again. Long, sloven presses of lips and swiping tongues begging for passage between your mouths. It’s all teeth and ragged breath and soft touches and the honest-to-God biblical revival of unchecked teenage hormones. 

You have to get back, this he knows very well, but now that he’s got you back, he just can’t stop loving on you. Kissing you has always been too easy - as natural as breathing, and you’re such a receptive lover – always have been, from the very start. 

And it’s not like you’re doing much to stop him, giggling and pushing against his chest without any real intention of separating yourself from him. Breathless insistences of “we really need to get back” that don’t mean anything at all when you’re fisting your hands in his jacket and pulling him right back to you for another round.

Not that Eddie’s complaining. He’s too busy fighting the overwhelming urge to bend you over right here in the underbrush.

The only thing really stopping him from popping the button of your jeans and wrestling you out of them is the nagging threat of his inner voice reminding him what a patently bad idea that is, because “that’s how you get killed in a horror movie”. 

It’s the only reliable basis of logic anymore. As far as Eddie is concerned, over the course of a very short week, his life has inexplicably devolved into the plot of a bad horror movie, which, in this scenario, regrettably makes you the horny couple who gets slaughtered whilst bunnyfucking out in the woods. 

As appealing as that sounds, he’s not about to let that happen.

Because you hate a cliche and you have to get back, for reasons that are extremely hard to rationalize when you’re pressed up against him and making all those pretty little sounds.

Eddie casually catches your southbound hands before they can find their way to his belt buckle and expertly replaces them on his shoulders, tut-tutting the way you whine out your displeasure with the move.   

Bad girl, he thinks, Needy girl. 

It’s the honeymoon phase and then some, a speedrun of that long expanse of ooey—gooey fairytale bliss that sees the both of you unable to keep your hands off of each other. Only this time around it’s not the halls and alcoves of Hawkins High witnessing your very public displays of affection, but the trees and the whirling cosmos and everything beyond that Carl Sagan ever promised – it’s super fucking romantic. 

You spent the duration of the not-so-long walk back making your own, much more tangible promises.

“I love you,” You tell him for what must be the hundredth time, eager to make up for lost time.  

“I know,” Eddie assures you, cradling your face and ducking down for the next in a long line of all the kisses he owes you for every time you say it. “But we gotta go.” he says against your lips, “Harrington’s gonna be pissed.” 

You whine pathetically. It’s a muffled sound that Eddie feels more than he hears. 

Normally that would have been enough to sway him considering you’re usually the one with the functioning brain, and he’s the raging pit of electric hormones,

Still, hearing you all needy like that tends to cause the rational part of Eddie’s brain to shut off. Many occasions of you pawing at him just like that have ended with a thick and wanton utterance of “aw hell” that sees Eddie throwing caution —and very often, your panties— to the wind.

But this is neither the time nor the place (though more the former than the latter, because it would not be the first time you’d gotten your rocks off out in the woods – horny teens don’t tend to make smart decisions about location when the mood strikes them that hard). 

Still, one of you has got to retain some of your faculties, because you really do need to get back, despite the way his lizard brain doth protest. 

Get back? Where? Harrington who? What’s he so goddamn pissed about and who even cares?   

“More,” You plead, and you always get what you want with him.

“Okay,” Eddie says, lips clicking with a lewd, wet smack when he parts with you, “One more for the road.”

He didn’t need to even give you that kind of permission, because you’re already chasing him again the second he parts from you. 

“Okay,” You hum, snaking your arms up around his neck and pressing yourself bodily against him, backing him into the tree he hadn’t realized was behind him until the bark is digging painfully into his spine.

He doesn’t care, not when you’re rubbing up against him like that. 

You’re both so unbearably gross and horror movie logic be damned, Eddie just can’t help himself. 

“Maybe just one more.” He hums, hand snaking unwisely up the back of your shirt to twist at the clasp of your bra. 

“Okay,” You sigh into his mouth.

When you finally make it back to the park, stealing across the grounds hand in hand, all smiles and giggles and clothes pulled out of shape like kids stumbling home well past curfew, Steve is indeed raging.

He’s there to whip the door open and bathe you in the accusing orange glow of incandescent light that has you balking as you come clambering up the steps. His looming, perfectly coiffed figure is almost comedic, backlit in the doorway with his hands on his hips, literally tapping his foot, and he’s quick to lay into you like he thought he was your goddamn father or something – not Eddie’s father, of course, which would have been an arguably terrifying turn of events, and not even much like your father, who Eddie has still never met, and at this point is not entirely sure he ever will. 

He’s not even sure your parents really know he exists outside of general rumor – they certainly don’t know what he does with their daughter out in the woods, considering they barely acknowledge the fact that you exist. 

That’s fine by him, it just means he gets you all to himself. 

Steve grabs you by the elbow and yanks you over the threshold and back into the warm, cozy embrace of home – what good is a house when you’re all the home Eddie needs – already halfway through a lecture about how you’ve been gone “way longer than ten minutes” and demanding to know “what the hell took you so goddamn long” because, in case you haven’t noticed, the fate of the world is oh so casually resting on your collective shoulders. 

Not that any of that currently matters, Eddie isn’t listening. He��s completely blissed out, far too busy watching with wrapt attention as you pull your pretty pink, kiss-bitten lips in past your teeth in a miserable attempt at trying not to smile while Steve goes blue in the face.

It’s so unbearably You, though he thinks perhaps only as a result of him rubbing off on you in the worst way – or in the best way, who can say? – giggling in the middle of a dressing down, really playing into the hand you’ve been dealt. 

Christ, you’re adorable … and you love him. 

You love him you love him you love him – and he loves you, he should tell you - no, he needs to tell you…

It takes every bit of Eddie’s limited capacity for self-control not to seize you and drag you right back to him. He’s not finished loving on you just yet – he quietly hopes that there will never come a time when he’s ever finished. 

He’s never been the type to give a second thought to laying a big sloppy kiss on you in front of whoever the fuck happens to be watching, but he knows how public displays of affection make you uncomfortable and he’s not so love-drunk that he can’t respect your boundaries. 

He cannot, however, stop smiling. He knows he’s got to look a goddamn fool, grinning ear to ear like the fate of the world and all their lives don’t hang in the balance — his face is starting to hurt. 

He hasn’t realized how he’s missed that until now, the cramping of his facial muscles against something he’s powerless to resist. 

There’s an entire conversation going on in front of him without his knowledge – he couldn’t repeat a word anyone has said in the past five minutes if someone put a gun to his head, but he could talk endlessly about all the soft little noises you’d been making only a short while back. 

He could go on about those for days, write tomes of essays and sonnets waxing poetic about them, but the loud shouting voice of Dustin returning to the room from whatever odd corner of the trailer he’d been hiding in cuts the lecture thankfully short. 

“There you are!” He squawks, stomping out from the hall. 

He’s standing there looking suddenly very small dressed in an overlarge grey sweatshirt and the deconstructed pieces of the Gilley suit someone had thought to grab from the War Zone. It is his carefully selected uniform for bat-tle, as he’d put it back in the field – you’d booed and hissed at the audacity of such a terrible pun, much to Henderson’s patent chagrin.   

“Do you have any idea how long you two were gone? We were worried sick!” He squawks.  

“Now, where have I heard that before?” You hum, casting a sly, sidelong glance in Eddie’s direction before squeezing past Dustin to disappear down the hall toward the bathroom so you can wash the woods off of you. 

“You know your shirt’s on inside out,” Dustin calls moodily after you. “And backwards,” 

You ignore him. 

Eddie watches you go and gets a little lost in the familiar swaying of your gait. Suddenly he’s back at school, watching you skip away down the hall toward your next class, the tantalizing promise of later hanging in the air. You glance back at him and smile sweetly, and he’s instantly shot full of holes. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

“Eddie!” Dustin grouses, drawing him back to the close quarters and warm, incandescent glow of his living room — and he realizes, once again, he’s missed every word of the boy’s outraged spiel, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sure am.” Eddie lies.

Dustin narrows his eyes.  

“Then what did I just say?”

He shrugs and shoves past him as he spies the carefully folded pile of items from the jaunt to the army surplus store, though more specifically one decidedly metal bandolier sitting in a burnished brass pile on the dining table. 

It sets Eddie’s magpie brain to fluttering and he’s reaching for it before he’s even realized he’s moved.  

“No idea,” Eddie says good-naturedly, clapping a hand fondly down on the top of Dustin’s head as he passes him by.

He can feel the boy’s eyes on him, turning to follow as he saunters across the room.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dustin demands.

“Not a thing, Henderson,” He assures him, electing to snatch the belt up rather than confess the undying overwhelming vice of puppy love he’s gripped in.

He turns the thing over in his hands, eyeing it with great interest - it’s just about the coolest damn thing he’s ever seen.

"You sure about that?"

"Hundred percent," Eddie says, "Everything's just fine."

After that, it’s twenty-five minutes or so of finishing touches before Eddie slinks off to his bedroom.

Everyone has armed themselves in some kind of battle garb, armor picked up from the War Zone for the impending task, but nobody had thought to grab anything for you. It hadn’t even crossed their mind because back then you didn’t need any sort of protection, not while the most you’d been expected to do was stand watch in the living room for any curious onlookers come to peek in on the murder scene at the Munson residence. 

Now, with such a daunting task ahead of you, Eddie knows you’re going to need all the help you can get. So he upends his dresser drawers, looking for something — anything that might put some kind of a barrier between you and the flurry of teeth and claws that await you.

Steve’s already returned the battle vest, decidedly worse for wear but not bad enough to be decommissioned, and Eddie fully intends to swathe you in it. It’s not much, but it’s better than the same torn jeans and old t-shirt you’ve been wearing for the last three days. It’s something, at least, 

His room is dark compared to the rest of the trailer. It hadn’t seemed like a smart thing to go flipping on any more lights, on the off chance that someone noticed and decided to come snooping. He doesn’t mind much, considering his aversion to flipping on the overhead light in the first place – Eddie much prefers the ambiance of the table lamp, and he is well-practiced in navigating the dimly lit space  

The front room is abuzz with noise and ambivalent movement. Voices filter in and out and saturate the room in the warm glow of company, the aural equivalent of the incandescent bulbs burning overhead. 

It reminds Eddie of something he has only felt very few times in his life: what it feels like to belong, to be a part of something, even if that something is nothing more than camaraderie forged in the face of impending doom. Somehow he can’t find it in him to be worried about it, not while he’s among friends. 

The mere thought of the word brings a bitter scoff rising up from the deepest part of his chest, and he has to work very hard to swallow it back down again. 

It’s what gets him more than anything, more than the danger of the Upsidedown or the armed hicks crawling the streets, hungry for his blood – it’s that after everything he’s been through over the past few days, suddenly he’s back home and (relatively) safe, because of his friends.

Not Gareth or Jeff or Adam or even Wayne, but astoundingly thanks to Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, and Dustin (less baffling but still bizarre) —his strange collection of new friends, who put their lives and reputations on the line to find him and bring him back from the precipice, despite barely knowing him.

It’s more than a little jarring, and Eddie isn’t quite sure how he feels about it. 

Whatever the feeling is, it’s largely a positive thing. He’s glad they’re all here – and it goes without saying that he’s glad you’re here. 

He’d say it anyway. 

He’s glad you’re here when you have every reason not to be, but you’d promised that you loved him even when you hated him, which actually might have hurt his feelings if he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to hear it. 

Without you, he’s not sure he would have such a strange new group of friends rallying around him, embracing him. 

And maybe that’s not a fair assumption. Maybe Dustin had more of a hand in facilitating his rescue than he’s accounting for— credit where credit is due and all that — but Eddie will be the first to admit that he’s totally and completely biased. You’re far and beyond his favorite person here, and he’s not shy about admitting that. 

The thing he really hates to admit, however, is that he’s glad you’re coming with them to the other side – which seems stupid. 

He was being smarter when he was angry that you were crazy enough to go volunteering yourself to play the bait, but hadn’t he spent the duration of the last jaunt to the Upsidedown bombarding you with psychic postcards? Wish you were here doesn’t even begin to cut it. 

He almost forgets to care about how aggressively he’d rejected the idea of you putting your life on the line only a few hours ago because when it came down to it, that’s what it took to win back your love.

Not that he ever really lost it in the first place (and not that he actually knew that) but Boy Howdy hadn’t you done your utmost to tow that line and make him work for it?  

If only Eddie had known it would be that easy – it wasn’t easy, it was the worst suffering he’s ever experienced – he wouldn’t have fought so hard to keep you from running headlong into peril.

More than that, if he had any idea of what the two of you were going to get up to on your walk back through the woods, he would have thrown you to the wolves and jumped right in after you. 

Maybe not, but the sentiment feels dramatic and appropriate for the status quo as it currently stands.

Danger, it seems, has become his new middle name. Or maybe it’s yours, considering you’re the one who keeps getting him into these situations … except that’s only true because Eddie initially dragged you into all this, so maybe the name belongs to the both of you. 

Maybe you married into the name and now you’re Mr. and Mrs. Danger. 

It’s a stupid thought, and it makes him laugh.  

Snickering to himself in the dark, Eddie upends the last of his drawers and makes a mental note to tell you that joke after all this —  if either of you survives this, that is. 

It’s a dismal thought that makes quick work of chasing away any sense of the levity he’d felt moments before. 

Once he’s satisfied with the excavation of everything he owns, Eddie lays out a series of choices across the stark bed: the first-generation Hellfire shirt, the black one with the short sleeves and white collar, a grey Hawkin’s Phys. Ed shirt with “Munson” scrawled across the nameplate in obnoxiously large print (his old gym clothes), and a super faded Misfits tee he’s had for years and years. 

None of them are particularly significant, only that they are some of the only clean articles of clothing he could find, and he wants you to have options. 

He wouldn’t presume to make the decision for you, because somehow this feels important, as silly as that seems. You deserve to choose what kind of armor you’re going to wear to herald the doom they bring to Vecna.

Eddie finds you in the kitchen with Steve, running through a series of stretches, learning tips and tricks on how to breathe so as best to oxygenate your muscles, and having the very basics of general athleticism explained to you. 

It’s a lifetime of athletics boiled down to a five-minute lecture – Eddie only catches the tail end of it, but it’s riveting stuff.

“The worst thing you can do when you’re running hard like that for distance is start to hyperventilate – you know, gasping for air,”  Steve tells you, and Eddie half expects you to roll your eyes and make some snappy remark about being molly-coddled like that, but oddly enough all you do is nod.

For once, you’ve got nothing snide to say – remarkably, Steve has your undivided attention, and even he seems a little unsure of what to do with it as he continues.  

“If you start in with that, you won’t be able to catch your breath and you’re gonna pass out.” He says matter-of-factly, “If you pass out, you’re dead, you got that? That’s worse than a worst-case scenario, that’s a game over.”

“Yikes,” Eddie can’t help himself from saying, summarily drawing your attention. 

In the span of a microsecond, you go from serious as a heart attack and nodding like your life depends on it – which it very likely does – to dopey grinning, staring wistfully up at him with honest-to-god heart eyes. 

Eddie wonders if you and Steve can hear his heart beating against his ribcage. 

Just like that, the lesson is over, because now that Eddie is here, Steve is never going to get your attention back. 

“Sorry to butt in,” He says tentatively, curling his hands around your shoulders, “D’you mind if I borrow Barry Allen here for a second?”

Steve levels him with a blank if not highly irritable look as the reference sails clear over his head. 

Harrington, Steve: Fucking jerk Not so bad, I guess. Worshipped by Henderson. Doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is. Total fucking cheeseball. Has apparently never heard of The Flash. 

You, thankfully, are not so hopelessly ignorant.

“Nerd.” You scoff, shoving Eddie playfully – then you notice the thousand-yard stare gracing Steve’s features, and you’re quick to explain, “Barry Allen is–”

“I don’t care.” He says – it doesn’t feel mean so much as deeply uninterested, “Just try to remember what I told you.”

“Sure. Don’t pass out.” You say with a lopsided shrug.  

“Exactly. And no more sneaking off.” Eddie can’t help but get the sense that the second part is more for him than you, especially with the knowing look Steve gives him. 

He just can’t help but tease him a little.  

“No need,” Eddie says, curling his arms around you and jerking his head back down the hall. “Bedroom’s right back there, Big Boy — care to join us?”

“Oh, gross—”

“For the love of…”  

Steve rolls his eyes and breathes the beginnings of a long-suffering sigh – Eddie is quick to let him off the hook. 

“I’m kidding.” He assures the both of you. 

You shove your way out of his arms and Steve shakes his head, in a clear attempt at trying to mask how visibly relieved he is to hear it.

“Yeah well, who can ever tell with you two,” he says, reaching out to clap Eddie on the shoulder before turning his attention to all the other hundreds of little preparations that still need to be made.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You call indignantly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replies, “Your shirt’s on backwards, by the way.” 

After that, it takes no effort at all for Eddie to coax you down the hall. Back in the relative dark of his bedroom, you choose the Hawkins Phys. Ed shirt graffitied with his name, and he can’t help but puff up a little with the warm glow of satisfaction for the choice as he watches you shrug out of your clothes.

Out of one shirt and into another, both of them his – the forest green gym shorts are yours, though, and it’s only pure happenstance that they’d gone unnoticed when he packed you away last fall. Stuffed into the back of the drawer they remained, since who knows when – from one of the hundreds of times you’ve slept over, he’s sure. 

It feels a little bit like fate, if he believed in such a thing. Like they’d sat waiting for you, knowing you’d need them here and now, the matching pair to Eddie’s old gym shirt.

Once the shorts are tied tight and the shirt is over your head, you pull it taught by the hem to regard the chicken scratch scrawling of Munson with what he hopes is satisfaction. 

Good, he thinks. Let the name do some good for once, let it shield you from anything that means you harm. Everything means you harm down there, even the air you breathe, but he can’t think about that right now, lest he succumb to his wits and try once more in vain to talk you out of this.

At least this way he can wrap himself around you, make a shield of his things. 

“How’s that feel?” Eddie asks tentatively, watching you turn to regard yourself in what bit of the mirror you can see around Sweetheart.

You level him with a dour look.

“Like gym class.” You answer, flapping your arms at your sides matter-of-factly, “Why do you still have these?”

Eddie shrugs, pushing up from where he’s been sitting on the edge of the box spring with one leg tucked neatly beneath him. 

“‘Cause I’m full of school spirit, remember?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Right. How could I forget? You’ve got pep in your step.”

“Go Tigers.” 

Eddie holds his battle vest dutifully in place so you can fit your arms through the holes, then pulls it snugly around you like a worn, patchy, denim hug – you’re swimming in it, and normally it would be incredibly endearing, but his heart is suddenly thumping solidly in his chest, and his insides are churning.

The fear is creeping in again.

“Anyway, have a little respect, will you?” he says, poking at the scrawling of his name across your belly. “This is lucky.”

Your brows marry over your eyes, and it’s almost enough to distract from the gnawing dread settling into his bones.

“How d’you figure?”

“Munsons are resilient.” He explains, “We’re hard to kill,” 

Like some kind of unwanted household pest, skittering around Hawkins and coming back time and time again no matter what this town does to try and eradicate them. 

Like cockroaches, he thinks miserably, but of course, he won’t tell you that. 

“Good for you, I guess,” You say, “But not all of us have the good fortune of being a Munson.”

It’s ever so slightly shocking, hearing you say that. He’s never heard anyone refer to his family name as being one of good fortune, and suddenly he doesn’t know what to do with that endearment.

Nobody wants to be a Munson. He imagines the way his mother must have panicked when she came to realize the terrible mistake she’d made in hitching her wagon to his father, but by then it was too late because he’d already taken root in her – Eddie had always been the ball and chain that stopped his mother from escaping the name, what it did to her…  

No, nobody wants to be a Munson… but maybe it doesn’t have to be like it’s always been. 

Eddie tilts his head left to press his shoulder to his ear as he considers the notion – then raises his hand to make a slow, gentle chopping motion down against your shoulder – one, then the other – summarily knighting you. 

“I dub thee: Honorary Munson.” He teases. 

You bite your tongue against the giggling suddenly bubbling up inside you and roll your eyes. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” You say. 

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the expert?”

“It’s just not very official, is all.”  

He stares at you a moment, letting the words sink in and feeling his heart beat heavily against his ribcage. 

Suddenly he can’t stop thinking about where you’d been this time last year, propped up against one another on the sofa in the next room.  

Eddie had been sick as a dog that whole week, certain he was always just moments from death’s eternal embrace, and yet laying there with his head in your lap, watching some forgettable movie of the week, he was happy. Happier than he would have been stuffed into the van for sixteen hours, at least. 

That’s all he ever wanted, a life of quiet intimacy, where everybody was content to mind their own damn business, leave you to your devices. 

Let all his grand plans and schemes fall through, so long as it means he gets to spend the rest of his life doing nothing with you.

Filthy rich or dirt poor, he doesn’t care so long as it's with you. 

That’s all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, and he’s been certain of that since way too early on in your relationship, and it was a problem. 

You weren’t even friends yet the first time he lost himself in a flight of fancy over how the rest of your lives would play out – the milestones you’d hit together. 

Eddie shrugs against the way his heart is in his throat as he makes quick work of removing the ring with the dark stone from his finger. He reaches for your hand and hopes you can’t see the way he’s trembling as he slides it easily back into place over your middle finger – it’s nothing really, you’d already asked him for that ring a year into your relationship and worn it proudly up until last summer. 

All he’s doing is righting a wrong, putting something back where it belongs, but somehow, this time it feels more important than that. This time it feels like a promise. 

“There,” He says gently, feeling unbearably vulnerable as he watches you closely for your reaction, “How’s that for official?” 

You’re beaming as you bring your hand up to look at the ring, admiring the scuffed, dingy stone like it were some kind of glittering diamond he’d spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on rather than the forgotten heirloom he'd found stashed in a dusty corner of his grandmother’s house a hundred years ago. 

“Cool.” You hum.

“So cool.”  

He reaches up to pull the vest tighter around you again before he’s realized he’s even moved, and then suddenly Eddie’s got his arms around you, hugging you tight against his body — his natural state of being, it seems. 

You respond in turn by burying your face into the crook of his neck and sighing against him as he presses his cheek to your temple. 

For as long a moment as he dares, he just holds you like that while the fear creeps up again. 

Don’t go don’t go please don’t go.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Your response buzzes against his flesh and sends goosebumps crawling across his body.

“Always,” 

Eddie’s hand comes down to trace the length of your arm, a gentle up and down, grazing the pads of his fingers along the soft and tender flesh he knows so well. 

His insides go tight and squirmy, and he feels a potent cocktail of nerves and nostalgic shyness bleed into his bloodstream.

He never actually asked you out the first time around. You sort of just mutually fell into the routine of scrambling to spend every spare second you had with each other, until one day he looked up and your lives were woven together.

It feels stupid to suddenly be shy about it, but he can’t let you cross that gate without putting it out there, even if you say no, even if you laugh in his face.

Eddie clears his throat to try and steady his voice. 

“When all this is over — if we make it out, I mean — can I take you to the movies or something?”

You don’t answer, not right away, but he feels you still against him in a way that makes his nerves scream. After an agonizing moment, your hands snake up to rest on his shoulders and you push against him, though not with enough force to dislodge you from Eddie’s grasp more than a few inches.

He grips you by your elbows and holds you there, reluctant to let you go until it is absolutely necessary as you lean back and stick him to the spot with a wry look — eyes narrowed, lips curled.

He knows you’re about to tease him, considering everything you’ve been through, but those nerves are quickly turning sour in his stomach and Eddie doesn’t think he can stand to hear you say something sarcastic right now, not when he’s teetering so close to the edge. 

Why does it suddenly feel like if he lets you go he’ll lose you all over again? His eyes feel puffy with the notion, and you thankfully pick up on it, like you always do, reaching up to stroke the highest point of his cheek with the backs of your knuckles.

The scratchy fabric of your bandage tickles him and he swallows the ragged breath threatening to burst forth from his lungs. 

Eddie clears his throat again to middling results before he continues.

“I bet that stupid Gremlins ripoff is still playing in the city…” He says thickly, then rolls his eyes and offers a lopsided shrug he hopes appears as casual as he means it to be, “I mean … unless you already saw it or whatever.” 

“Critters.” You posit. 

“Right.”

You shake your head. 

“Haven’t seen it.” 

“Right.” He says again, because it’s all he can do to stop himself from falling to his knees and begging you not to do this. 

He’d do just about anything to make you stay here where it’s safe, even if that means marching himself into town and right into the hands of the Hawkins Police. 

But that’s not gonna stop Vecna, and if they don’t stop him then there’s no point to any of this. 

They need you there on the other side, and it's tearing him to little melancholy pieces.  

Your lips quirk up into a wry if not entirely sympathetic smile.

“Are you asking me out, Munson?” You ask, gently teasing him in a dutiful attempt to try and leaven the mood.

Eddie forces out a thick, wet bark of laughter and tilts his head forward to rest against yours. 

“Nah, no way. ‘Course not.” he sniffs, “What, d’you think I like you or something?”

You hum thoughtfully and twist your head to the side so that his forehead is pressed against your temple and take a long hard look at the ring sitting snugly on your middle finger. It’s the wrong one, but the intention is still there.

Same as before, same as he’d felt way too early on in your relationship, Eddie would marry you tomorrow if you’d have him – make a real Munson out of you and do it better than any of the previous generations before him ever managed to. Break the cycle and finally do things right.  

Neither of you may be around to indulge in that whimsy tomorrow.

You wrinkle your nose. 

“Yeah, you know, I kind of got that impression,”

“Well, that’s stupid.” Eddie rasps, “And gross.”

“So gross.” You hum, pushing up on your toes to slant your lips against his.

It's only a chaste peck, made a little less so by a cheeky swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip – it’s all you have time for before there is a rapping of someone’s knuckles against the door frame, cutting the moment short.   

You drop back down and spin around to face whoever it is come to intrude on your moment – only Nancy, thankfully, lingering in the doorway. You stand in front of Eddie with your back against him, like you mean to shield him from prying eyes until he can collect himself again. 

If she notices the way he quickly brushes the wetness from his eyes, she doesn’t mention it, because Nancy Wheeler is nothing if not entirely classy. 

“It’s time, you guys.” She says softly, and Eddie feels his guts seize in terror. 

As if you anticipated the feeling, you reach back and squeeze his hand, nodding curtly. 

“We’ll be right out,” you promise. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sliding through the gate is probably the worst thing you have ever experienced in your entire life, made all the worse by the way you’d had to ask Eddie for a boost because you’ve always been hopeless at the rope climb and you’re not about to start down the journey of self-improvement now.  

“Cheerleader-style,” you’d explained, showing him what position to get into when he asked how best to do that.

He’d rolled his eyes and taken your foot in his hands.

“That’s not Cheerleader-style,” He snarked, which made Steve choke on a surprised bark of laughter. 

And that’s how you knew the world was well and truly coming to an end. Because Eddie made a stupid sex joke and it was enough to make Steve Harrington laugh. 

You’re so, incredibly fucked.

The reverse suction of gravity pulling you down through at the highest point of the gate and turning your world topsy turvy is the second worst thing you’ve ever experienced, and it sees you landing hard on your ass on the other side.

Your fall was mercifully broken by the bizarro version of Eddie’s mattress — somehow more disgusting than its real-world doppelgänger — which Steve had thankfully thought to pull out from the other room.

You’d only just managed to slide off of the thing before Eddie came crashing down after you, landing gracelessly on his back with a hard thump mere inches from where you’d been only moments before.

Everything moves much too quickly after that.

You follow A Team out into the murky underdark waiting just outside the tin door and have to plant roots in the ground to stop yourself from turning right back around and going for the safety of the gate.

Suddenly, faced with the dark and the debris and the perpetual bloody thunderstorm, sitting watch and babysitting the hole in the ceiling doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. But it’s far too late to start thinking about changing your mind, especially when B Team comes shuffling down the front steps to see you off. 

You distract yourself by playing Mother Hen, turning around to fuss needlessly over your boys. 

Your boys, your precious boys…

You pull Dustin’s hood up and secure it in place with the headband he’d chosen to add to his armor, straighten the Gilley suit, and tweak his nose for good measure, garnering an indignant squawk from the boy before you move over to Eddie.

You’re less frantic with him, and you can feel his eyes on you as you pull the zipper of his army-grade vest tight up to the collar, the demon-faced logo of the Hellfire club winking out of existence as you do. You can’t help but smooth your hands across his chest, attempting in vain to press out the wrinkles there and banish your nerves alongside them. 

It’s not enough, you think, this isn’t gonna stop anything from hurting him.

You have to heave a sharp, steadying breath to quell the sick feeling suddenly stirring in your stomach, and you tell yourself it’s better than nothing. 

It’s certainly better than what you’ve got, which is to say nothing at all – at least he’s got layers to protect against scraping claws and gnashing teeth, he’s got a shield and one of those wicked-looking spears the Sinclairs had prepared back in the field while you’d wasted precious time goofing off. 

You wish you had a suit of armor, but you’ve got to move faster than you ever have, you can’t afford to be weighed down by any more protective layers than a pair of cotton shorts, Eddie’s vest – you’re thankful to have it, it’s the next best thing to carrying him with you (along with the faintest tinge of Steve, regrettably) but somehow you know it’s not going to be enough if something down here decides to try and make a meal out of you. 

You’re cold, at least you think you are, somehow simultaneously shivering under the heavy, dank chill of the Upsidedown and growing sticky with sweat in the cloying humidity. 

This place is a fucking nightmare — this place is where Barb died. 

Suddenly you can’t stop thinking about that night in ‘83, about the party she disappeared from. You don’t know much about it, only that it had been Tommy and Carol at Steve’s place — your old friends who had at the point only recently ejected you from their circle.

Barb was only there because they had a vacancy to fill in the form of Nancy, and she came along by default. Suddenly you can’t help but feel that if Eddie hadn’t waltzed in and turned your world upside down, you would have been at that party, and it probably would have been your face on all the missing person posters and milk cartons.

Barb would still be here, getting ready to take her SATs and live the rest of her life, and you would have been dragged screaming into the abyss, never to be seen again. 

You’re thankfully rescued from the spiral of trying to determine how your karma tallies up against the guilt you feel over it and pulled from the mire of your thoughts by the sound of your name tumbling gently from Eddie’s lips.

When you glance up at him, he’s giving you a deeply concerned look, and you wonder how much of the journey through your thoughts had been reflected across your face. 

You feel the corners of your mouth twitch in your best attempt at offering him a reassuring smile, but you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Eddie says.

“No, yeah of course. It’s gonna be fine.” You mumble, painfully aware of how the tremble in your voice betrays that statement, so you try again, “It’s gonna be fun.” 

It’s not even convincing enough to come across as sarcastic — you’re terrified. 

Then, like he’s only just remembered something vitally important, Dustin perks up and begins patting himself down, frantically fumbling in his pockets as you watch without really seeing. He produces a clunky black Casio, the kind with a calculator built into the face, and immediately goes to work strapping it to your wrist.

“I already set it up to count you down.” He explains, “All you have to do is hit start and go, it’ll keep us in sync.”

You swallow hard as you stare at it — you remember the year he got the watch for his birthday, how excited he was about all its features.

You’d thought it was unbearably sweet that he was so thrilled about a cheap watch from Melvald’s General Store, but you desperately wish you were back there now, timing Dustin to see how fast he could run around the block (the answer was not very fast at all, and he’d been royally pissed when Mike beat his time by nearly half.) 

He nudges you to bring your attention back again, this time he’s holding a walkie-talkie out to you. 

You take it and sling it around your shoulders.

“It’s gonna be fine,” You say again, somehow less convincing than before. 

However, neither Eddie nor Dustin gets the opportunity to say otherwise because Steve is suddenly there, sending you leaping damn near out of your skin with the simple act of resting a tentative hand on your shoulder. 

“You ready?” He asks.

No, you want to tell him, but your throat is closing up and you don’t think you could have squeaked out an answer even if you tried. 

You swallow hard against the tightness there and nod.

“Okay,” He says solemnly, turning his attention to B Team - Team Distraction, “Keep your radios on – stay in contact, stick to the plan—”

“And don’t get killed.” Eddie pipes up, winking at you. 

As you turn on your heel and trail after the others across the park, you curl your hands into fists and silently hope you can manage to do all of those things at once. 

It takes every bit of willpower you possess not to turn around and look back – if you look back you’re going to lose what tiny bit of nerve you’d been able to muster – but you didn't look back the last time you’d walked away from Eddie, left him standing there at the foot of those stairs.

The radio crackles, at your hip, and through it comes Eddie’s voice, calling your name.

“–Copy.”

You snatch the walkie-talkie up so quickly that you nearly crack yourself in the mouth, twisting around and stumbling over your feet, almost crashing into Robin as you do. 

“What’s up, Eds?” You answer.

You can barely see him out in the dark, but he’s still there, watching you go. You can’t make out his features, but somehow you know he’s grinning that stupid grin.

“You’re supposed to say over – over.” He teases, voice lilting in that same old sing-song tone.

You roll your eyes.

“What do you want, Eddie … over.”

“Just to tell you your butt looks great in those shorts –”

You’re instantly blushing as Robin makes a harsh sound of undainty laughter at your side. 

“Eddie–!” you hiss.

“Over and out.”

It’s not a long walk to the Creel House, but it’s made that much shorter by the cloud of doom hanging over your head.  

You’d always done your utmost to avoid the place, what with its reputation for being haunted. It’s eerie enough in the daytime, but here and now, with the darkness crushing in on all sides, you can’t help the chill that creeps down your spine.

When you were thirteen, you’d very nearly had a falling out with Carol Perkins, who was still your best friend at the time, over your refusal to enter the house on a dare.

With high school looming, she was at the start of a sudden and violent transition that would inevitably see her become the mean girl she is today. As such, she was subsequently worried that you were making her look bad in front of her cool new friends, who wanted absolutely nothing to do with you, but were still busy making up their minds about her.

She called you a pussy, and you happily accepted the title, staying safely outside of the house while the older girls all filed in to play with the Ouija board one of them had brought along. 

Carol stayed with you, out of some lingering sense of misplaced loyalty, you imagine, and as a result lost some of the budding clout she so desperately craved from the others — from that day on to the eventual implosion of your so-called friendship three years later, she never let you forget it.

Knowing what you know now, pressed up against Nancy sitting crouched beneath the rotting jungle gym across the street, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief that you’d always had enough foresight to stay out of the house – Vecna’s home. 

Suddenly, you think you can see movement. Figures skulking around in the dark on the third floor, a ghoulish face peering out at you from the attic window. 

You tell yourself the house is empty, that Vecna isn’t up there, despite how patently untrue you know that to be. Part of you wants to take some sort of comfort in knowing that you won’t have to enter the house, but all you feel is the violent buzzing of your anxiety. 

You gasp out loud when the radio crackles, slapping your hands over your mouth and startling yourself as much as your companions. 

“B Team to A Team, do you copy?” Dustin’s voice comes rasping over the static. 

You watch as Steve brings the radio up to his mouth without ever taking his eyes off of the house, you wish you were half as calm as he looked. 

“Copy.” 

“We’re all set back here – go for Phase One?”

“Ready when you are.” 

You feel yourself break into a cold sweat. 

Phase one means you’re one deck. This is all happening very fast – too fast, if anyone were to ask you. Nobody is asking. 

Then, in the distance you hear the first crunch of chords, a rippling echo of a sound that knocks you on your ass, right back to nights and weekends at the Hideout and half a hundred other dingy dives across Roane County. 

Your breath catches in your throat.

If you close your eyes, you imagine you could picture yourself sitting parked behind a slapdash Corroded Coffin merch table set against a far wall, piled high with t-shirts, bumper stickers, and boxes upon boxes of cassettes. 

In your mind’s eye, Eddie leans into the microphone and introduces the band to middling enthusiasm. 

“This one goes out to all the ladies,” he says, like he always does before the first song because of how you’d once expressed vehement disdain for front men who would dare do something so cheesy. 

Your nerves are a swarm of bees in your bloodstream as you suck in a breath through chattering teeth and the sound continues, three descending notes that bleed into a quick, hard riff that shoots adrenaline like lightning down to the tips of your fingers.

It only takes you half a moment to realize you know this song, and the buzzing of your adrenaline surges, thought differently than before – blinding terror has suddenly bled away to be replaced by the kind of heart pounding excitment that comes from standing in the crowd at a rock concert. 

Oh my God, You think, He’s so fucking cool…

It breathes a spark of courage into you, and with a series of short, deep breaths, you fill your lungs and ready yourself to move. Without the necessary prompting you’d all agreed upon, you scramble out from beneath the jungle gym much to Steve’s hushed chagrin. 

You curl your hands into trembling fists as you pad across the grass out into the street, stopping just short of the curb and turning your gaze up at the looming Victorian. In the intermittent flashes of crimson lightning, you can see the bats crawling across its visage, like thousands of teeming maggots, squirming in the belly of a roadkill carcass. 

You suck in a breath and hold it, watching, waiting.

Eddie’s guitar has piqued their interest, just as you’d planned for, now you’ve got to make sure they follow through with that curiosity and clear a path for Nancy and the rest. 

Phase one is in effect – time to go to work.

#eddie munson #cruel summer fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn eddie munson #joseph quinn fic

[steddiealltheway]

Part Ten of Alone Together. Part One. Part Nine. AO3 Link.

All Steve needs to do today is get Eddie’s guitar, wrap it, and then he can worry about delivering it on Christmas. Should be simple, right? 

Wrong. 

A bit before one, there’s a knock on Steve’s door because apparently that’s something that happens on what seems to be a daily basis. He opens the door and finds the whole group in front of his house. “Please don’t tell me you’re Christmas caroling again.” 

They all start pushing past him inside. Eddie pats him on the shoulder as he walks by and says a quick hello. It makes the other’s unexpected drop by worth it. 

Steve turns towards the others as they start putting gifts under the tree. Nancy and Robin run outside and come back with more wrapped presents. Steve stands back as everyone starts gathering around in a circle on the living room floor looking at him expectingly. 

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks. God, he hopes they’re not trying to pull some Hellfire cult prank on him. 

“It’s our Christmas Eve Christmas,” Dustin says as if he should know what that means. Steve just stares at him blankly. 

There’s a sigh from Eddie before he says, “Raise your hand if you told Steve that we were celebrating Christmas today.” No one raises their hand. “Great job guys,” Eddie says, running a hand over his face. 

The teens begin arguing about how they though that Dustin had told him, and he turns it around on them about how he thought someone had already told him. It continues for a few minutes before Steve shuts it down saying, “Alright, alright. You’re lucky that Eddie and I already wrapped your gifts.” He goes to sit down next to Eddie, but the kids start to protest. “What?” 

The kids look around slightly embarrassed and hesitant to say whatever they’re about to when El speaks up, “Dustin said you would be handing out our presents for us to open so we wouldn’t have to decide.” 

Steve sighs and rests his hands on his hips. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas,” Steve says mainly to Dustin. He goes over to the tree and looks around at all the presents and settles on gifts from Nancy and Robin first since they won’t mind being the first couple not to be opening presents. 

He hands them all out and finally grab his and Eddie’s then makes his way back to his spot. No one moves to open their gift yet. “Please, open them all at once, I don’t want to awkwardly stare at one person at a time or have anyone do that to me,” Robin says. 

Everyone starts tearing wrapping paper and flinging it everywhere. Steve even joins in on the chaos, not remembering a time where he could make such a mess during Christmas in his own home. He snorts when he sees what Robin and Nancy got him – a book on communication. He glances towards Eddie whose cheeks are slightly pink. He holds out his present – a couple’s game to get to know your partner better. 

Steve nudges Eddie and says, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, Munson.” 

“Biblically?” Eddie jokes. Steve laughs without care, he’s just happy that him and Eddie seem to be back to normal. 

The rest of the gift giving goes well. All the kids love their presents from Eddie and Steve, and Steve is glad to find that Eddie also doesn’t have his gift ready just yet. 

Jonathan gets out his camera and starts taking pictures midway through almost like he forgot – honestly, Steve is surprised that he hasn’t been taking pictures for the past week because it had seemed like Jonathan was always carrying it around after the whole Vecna crisis. He had said something about wanting to capture more memories from the good times. And Steve couldn’t agree more that this was one of the good times. 

He and Eddie get matching mugs reading, “World’s Best Mom” and “World’s Best Dad.” Eddie argues that Steve has to be the mom with his mother hen instincts, and Steve is only slightly offended when Dustin confirms that Eddie is right.  

At one point, they get one present for the both of them from Jonathan and Argyle. Steve insists that Eddie opens it – just so he has an excuse to watch him. Eddie cracks the box open after dramatically tearing off the paper and immediately closes the lid. His eyes go wide, and he immediately turns red. 

“What?” Steve questions as Eddie stares at the box like it’s somehow scarred him. 

“This is not kid friendly or appropriate,” Eddie says, voice slightly higher than before.  

Steve snatches the box out of his hand saying, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He opens the box. He closes it. 

It’s that bad. He turns slowly to look over at Jonathan and Argyle. Argyle winks at them and says, “Don’t knock it until you try it.” Jonathan nods next to him enthusiastically. 

“Do you think they got their boxes mixed up?” Eddie whispers to Steve. 

“I don’t know if that would be better or worse,” Steve says honestly. He looks back at Eddie who slowly breaks out into a smile. Steve giggles. Eddie bursts out laughing, and Steve joins him. Steve cradles the box to his chest and runs away to the kitchen to keep the kids from getting to it. 

He’s hiding it in a cabinet when he hears footsteps behind him. Steve quickly closes the cabinet and turns to find Eddie in the kitchen entryway. “Hey,” Eddie says.  

“Hey,” Steve says with a soft smile. 

“Listen, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. You see-” 

Shit. Steve catches sight of the clock. It’s already three and he wanted to leave by two since the store is almost an hour or more away. And who knows what the roads will be like during Christmas Eve. “Sorry, Eddie! We’ll talk later. I have to go!” Steve says, patting his shoulder and running past him. 

He finds the others in the living room and shoots them a quick, “Hey, I need to go, I’ve got an appointment. Stay as long as you like and help yourself to the fridge. I’ll be back in about three hours or so give or take, so don’t feel like you need to wait up for me. Merry Christmas!” He’s definitely going to regret allowing them free access to his fridge, but he needs to leave. 

He finds Eddie by the front door holding out his jacket, gloves, and a scarf. God, Steve thinks he might just love him. On his way out the door, he presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek – friends do that, right? 

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve wishes he would’ve brought someone along with him. The trip to the shop was fine. In fact, it was really great. He and the kind lady, Cassidy, had gotten to talking and she lightly kicked some sense into him after finding out that he and the future owner of the guitar weren’t dating. 

“You really love them, don’t you?” Cass had asked him. 

Steve had nodded and sighed ranting about how there’s no way they could love him back. 

“I somehow doubt that,” she had replied then searched around the store for something else. She came back with a guitar strap saying, “Take this as my Christmas present to you, on the house.” 

Steve had looked at it and noticed although it looked plain, under one part of the strap there was a message: I hope to stay here forever and always. It cheesily would rest over Eddie’s heart whenever he wore it. It was perfect. He had thanked her profusely and wished her a very merry Christmas. 

The drive back was the worst part. With an hour plus of alone time, Steve’s mind was going absolutely berserk. Would Eddie hate him for the gift? Was it too much? And what was Eddie going to tell him before? Maybe he had been uncomfortable about the fact that every couple had given them some type of romantic couple gift. 

Maybe he should just keep the guitar strap in the back of one of his drawers. Shove it in there once he gets back home. Yeah, that’s exactly what he’ll do. He can just say the guitar was from him and Dustin. That’ll work. No sappy stuff if Dustin is involved. 

They’re just friends. And maybe he’s in love with Eddie, but he’ll get over it. Eventually. In a long time. A very long time. Christ, what is wrong with him? Maybe he should tell him how he feels. 

He can’t. He can’t ruin what he has with Eddie now no matter what. Not talking for a little over a day had been torture, so he can’t lose him forever. 

So, he won’t. There. It’s final. He will not tell Eddie about his feelings. And then he’ll just drop the guitar off or something noncommittal. He’ll put some space between them until New Year’s Eve when the kids will insist on doing something. But until then, nothing. 

He nods and pulls into his driveway. He parks and gets out of his car then slowly turns around. Eddie’s van is still parked on the street. Shit. 

So much for space. He’ll just... kick him out, play the old “I’m not feeling well” card which isn’t too far from the truth. But it’s more emotionally than physically. 

Steve walks in and resists the urge to call out, “Honey, I’m home!” although it really would be a great joke. The house is strangely quiet, so he does call out, “Eddie?” 

“In the living room!” Eddie yells back. 

Steve shrugs off his jacket and takes off his extra layers along with his shoes. He walks to the living room to find Eddie picking giftwrap off the floor and stuffing it into a trash bag. Steve’s heart races. “Isn’t the mom supposed to clean up?” Steve teases. 

Eddie snorts but continues what he’s doing. Steve joins in on tidying up the place thankful for the help. Once everything is back to what it was before, Eddie collapses on the couch. “Why is cleaning so exhausting?” he asks dramatically. 

Steve sits next to him and says, “Probably because you don’t have enough practice doing it.” 

Eddie gasps, “How dare you? I cleaned up most of this place without an incentive.” 

“Are you sure I’m not the incentive?” Steve flirts easily. 

Instead of the usual flirtatious response, Eddie just clears his throat and sits up. He turns to Steve and looks almost... scared. Maybe he’s just nervous, but Steve doesn’t know why he would be. “Steve, I was going to talk to you earlier...” 

Oh no. This sounds bad. Steve shifts and angles himself more towards Eddie, preparing for the worst. 

“I wanted to tell you that I... I have...” Eddie shakes his head with a laugh and looks down at where he’s fidgeting his rings. “Jesus H. Christ, this is worse than the bats. Anyways, I wanted to tell you that-” he looks at Steve and swallows. “Tell you that I have... an idea,” he finishes lamely as if that’s not what he meant to say at all. 

“An idea?” Steve questions. He nearly claps Eddie on the shoulder to try to encourage him to just get out whatever he’s so stuck on, but he’s pretty sure any sudden movement would send Eddie into fight or flight mode. 

“I thought that you could spend the night at my place and spend Christmas morning with me and my uncle. No one should be alone on Christmas,” Eddie says, thought rushing out, but it still feels like he was supposed to say something more. 

Steve gives Eddie a moment to say anything else on his mind, but Eddie just sits in silence looking at Steve expectantly. Steve thinks about the offer and the space he’s supposed to be putting between him and Eddie. There’s no way he can do that. “I’d love to,” he answers. Fuck.  

Eddie gives him a tight smile instead of sighing in relief like Steve had expected him to. Yeah, there’s definitely something else on his mind, but he’ll pry later... after New Years. 

Steve hurries to pack an overnight bag since the clothes in his car are probably going to be freezing. Speaking of in his car... “Hey, Eddie, your gift is in my car so don’t look. Also, do you mind if it’s not wrapped for tomorrow?” 

Eddie shakes his head with a small smile. “As long as you don’t mind that yours is not wrapped either. Also, there might be a few more things to it that will have to be added later.” 

Steve tries to rack his brain to see what that could mean but he comes up blank. He just nods and says, “I can’t wait.” 

When Eddie walks out to his car, he dramatically shields his eyes from Steve’s car saying something about how he doesn’t want to know what it is as he sprints off to his van. Steve laughs and gets into his car only to find the guitar strap still sitting in the front seat. Well, there goes his plans of stuffing it in a drawer. 

The ride to Eddie’s is quick, quick enough that Steve doesn’t have enough time to change his mind and turn the car around. When he parks outside of the trailer, Eddie is waiting for him by the front door. “Give me a minute to finish up your gift – it’s in my room,” Eddie says as he goes through the door. 

Steve nods and waits on the couch in the living room, but once Eddie is out of sight, he springs up to look at the mug collection then the small amount of pictures Wayne has up that weren’t destroyed after the gate opened. 

A few minutes pass by before Eddie comes out of his room to signal for Steve that it’s safe to go in now. Steve goes in and stifles a yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired when it’s not that late,” Steve says and plops down on Eddie’s bed, running a hand over his face. 

“It’s the kids, they have this ability to drain the life out of you in no time,” Eddie jokes, but maybe he’s onto something. “Don’t worry, I’m tired, too. I’m going to head to the bathroom and get ready to go to bed.” With that, Eddie leaves the room, and Steve wonders if he should already start moving his stuff to the couch. 

After a few minutes of debate, Steve reluctantly gets up and drags his feet towards the door. It swings open. “What are you doing?” Eddie asks, and Steve can smell the mint toothpaste. 

“Going to the couch,” Steve says because it’s the obvious choice. 

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says, dragging Steve back to his bed. “It’s Christmas Eve and no one is sleeping on that uncomfortable thing. Besides, you need to clear the area for Santa,” Eddie says with a smile giving him no room to protest. 

“Of course,” Steve laughs and grabs a few of his things and heads to the bathroom. It all reminds him of when they spent the night at the Wheelers. 

By the time he gets back to Eddie’s room, he’s already curled up under the covers, lamp beside his bed offering the only light in the room. Steve crawls in the other side and keeps a careful distance away from Eddie. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” Eddie whispers. 

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve replies suddenly feeling like there’s no way he can fall asleep like this. He tries and drastically fails. Eddie doesn’t appear to be moving too much, so Steve hopes that maybe he’s asleep. 

“Steve?” Eddie questions quietly. Definitely not asleep. 

“Yes, Eddie?” Steve asks turning towards him. 

Eddie rolls towards him. He wants more than anything to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Eddie bites at his lip a moment then asks almost too quiet for Steve to hear, “Can you come closer?” 

Steve immediately does but still puts a bit of space between them. He continues to stare at Eddie who looks back at him like that wasn’t enough. And in the spirit of Christmas, Steve rolls onto his back and holds his arm out, inviting Eddie into his space. Eddie tucks into his side immediately, and Steve experiences the most wonderful déjà vu. 

He runs a hand up and down Eddie’s back and feels the rise and fall of his chest even out. Steve tries to match the rhythm as well and finds himself easily drifting off. So much for putting space between them, but it makes it a very merry Christmas Eve. 

Part Eleven.

Tag List <333:

@eddiesbabe95 @hagbaby420 @grtwdsmwhr @mightbeasleep @saramelaniemoon @bidisastersworld @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @wrenisflying @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @strangerthings1983fan @haluton @silversnaffles @thosemessyvibes @fandemonium-takes-its-toll

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie christmas

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

with ears to see and eyes to hear // parallels

(Soulmate AU) Eddie Munson x gn!reader

[a/n] I hope it makes sense so far I've been re-writing the first parts so pt.5 should be out sometime next week!

[warnings?] some lowkey biblical references (as always not to be taken seriously), bitterness?

series masterlist available here!

The weekend had come and gone far too quickly for anyones liking, bringing about yet another dreary monday morning filled with endless groans from irritated students and teachers with constant cups full of coffee, as if it made all the difference. You had been debating wether to ask your mom about the vision you experienced but decided against it, worried she would think you were crazy or worse do something drastic, something that would be completley out of your control. For the most part your mom kept her cool around you however, there were moments her mask of sanity seemed to slip uncovering a person-a thing you didn’t know could exist. As if she was plagued by something terrible, barley holding onto the pieces of her soul she tried ever so hard to keep. You never questioned her erratic behaviour, choosing to stay quiet and calm to avoid any suspicion or harm. You couldn’t remember when this had first started, perhaps you were too young to know any better or it had only recently got worse but watching her slowly spiral into madness sent daggers through your heart. After all she was the only family you had left, you needed her and she needed you.

You shuddered at the thought, while you had no idea how to help her, you knew you needed to do something before things went too far although, that was a mission for another day. Focusing your mind on the school work infront of you, hoping your mom could hold on for a little while longer.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

(sort of you mom's pov?)

She knew the day would come where she’d have to confess her sins and repent for them, terrified for what the future held for her child’s saftey and years spent looking for a cure that ceased to exist even after centuries of torment. She loved you with every fibre of her being, constantly stuck in a purgatory within her mind fighting off the demons that begged her to surrender to the higher power and give in to the curse just as all the others before did. 

Sometimes a soulmate wasn’t meant to last, the gift of having one often out weighing the possibilities of losing one. For most that wasn’t the case, living happily with their other half until the day came when they went their seperate ways, for some that was the case instead choosing to remain in their life strictly platonically but still thriving, and for one that meant the destruction of all good and the rise to power and greed. The day later known as The Purge.

Fate and destiny work in mysterious ways and for whatever the reason it chose your bloodline to hold a curse, to feel the pain just as the old woman once felt, a curse disguised as a gift granting you fleeting moments of happiness and a lifetime of neverending bitterness until it finally consumed you whole, a curse that only the strongest and purest could break.

That being said it was inevitable and impossible to break free.

#pbs-thedesecrated #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #joe quinn #joe quinn imagine #with ears to see and eyes to hear series? #joseph quinn stranger things #eddie the freak munson #eddie st4

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Series Masterlist

Van Helsing - Kas!Eddie/Fem!OC - Soulmates

This story is told from 2nd Person POV (you/your)

Minors DNI - This fic is for 18+ readers only.

Summary: In order to undo a centuries-long curse, you travel to Hawkins to defeat a great evil and close the gates to Hell once and for all. Unfortunately, you uncover many unsettling secrets including some about your lost love, Eddie Munson.

Warnings (in no particular order): Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut (Specifics Tagged in Chapters), Major and Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Gore, Body Horror, Blood, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References

This story is going to be EXTREMELY HEAVY to write, so I will not be putting out a posting schedule. Chapters will get posted as they are completed.

OC is of European/Italian-American descent on her father's side and her mother's side can be left up to interpretation. She is loosely Roman Catholic and you will see why I say loosely if you read. I will not be giving her a name, or any major physical descriptors if I can help it but her cultural identity is integral to this story.

Note: You do not need to have seen Van Helsing (2004) to understand the premise of this fic. You should, however, read the prequels.

Prequels: Heaven - Hell - Purgatory

Hymns of Heaven: A series of "additions" to the prequel timeline based on cryptid and monster requests. April 1984 Mothman - April 1984 Immortal Snail - May 1984 Splinter Cat - May 1984 Sully - June 1984 Chupacabra - July 1984 Will-o'-the-Wisp - August 1984 Manticore - August 1984 Frogman - September 1984 Fresno Nightcrawler - September 1984 Thunderbird/Horned Serpent - October 1984 The Kraken - Halloween 1984 Werewolf - December 1984 Freddy Kreuger - December 1984 The Guardians - Christmas Eve 1984 Loch Ness Monster - January 1985 Manananggal - April 1985 Oneiroi - Unknown in the UD Inner Monster - Unknown in the UD Nachzehrer

Related Blurbs: Limbo - Genesis

Gratia. Charitas. Solamen.

Prequel Playlist

Chapters: Prologue - Annunciation 1 - Illumination 2 - Descendió a los Infiernos 3 - Crucible 4 - Malum Malus 5 - Via Domus 6 - Revelation 7 - Exodus 8 - Miserere Mei 9 - Deus in Absentia 10 - Atonement 11 - Ab Aeterno

Series Playlist

Reader's Guide to AASB - A collection of references and Easter eggs that are made in the story.

Series Art All series art is commissioned by me from various fandom artists. Some art depicts the Knight and these depictions do look like me and will be noted as such. If you want to keep the illusion of a faceless Knight, please do not look at the artwork noted with (*).

*Eddie and the Knight on their First Date - by @boltedfruit *

Hell Eddie - V2 feat. Knight's Intervention - by @lilithapril (TW: Blood/Gore)

Purgatory Eddie - by @dance-on-the-bones (TW: Blood)

Kas!Eddie - by @nightonblogmountain

*AASB Sketch Sheet - by @toomanyacorns* (TW: Blood)

Via Domus - Eddie and the Demobats - by @hearsegrrl

*AASB Sketch Sheet 2 - by @toomanyacorns * (TW: Blood)

The Gospel According to Mary Victoria - AASB as told from Mary Victoria’s perspective and a deep dive into her journey.

Book 1 - Book 2 - Book 3

This fic will not be for the faint of heart. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

Tag List: There will be no tag list for As Above, So Below.

#Series masterlist #Kas!Eddie #Eddie Munson fic #vampire eddie munson #vampire!eddie #Eddie Munson stranger things

[jo-harrington]

Gratia. (An As Above, So Below Story)

Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace. Charity. Peace. The oath of the Knights of the Holy Order.

Summary: You and Eddie-- separated by time and endless suffering--don't realize how many strings keep you connected on the web of fate. What players are there trying to cut those strings? And when will you both find out that they are unbreakable?

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (The Knight - Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Soulmates, Kas!Eddie, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Minor Character Deaths, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Supernatural Encounters, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References

Note: So...originally this was going to be one long thing. A tale about the Knight and Eddie and their unbreakable bond. And I wavered about how relevant it would be to the larger story. How relevant are any of these blurbs to the larger story? But if there's anything I've learned writing AASB, it's that I'm really writing the whole thing for myself. And after finding myself in an odd state of grief that kind of just keeps getting worse over the weekend, I know that this little fic...and the two that follow...really are only going to just be for me to help me get through it, so I need to be true to myself and write them anyway. **So if you do read this, please know it can be read in tandem with As Above, So Below. And you should have at least read the Prequels, with maybe some bonus points for Genesis. Iif you've read the Hymns, this is set before Nachzehrer.**

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

“God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh.” ― Voltaire

November 10, 1986

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"She's not suffering anymore. Tranquilla."

"Thank you, I know. She's been sick for a long time. She's at rest now."

"Mom brought mostaccioli. And chicken cutlets. She's setting it up in the other room then she'll be over. You should get some, you need to eat."

"I'll be alright, thank you for coming."

Today was the final day that you would spend with your Nonna.

Well, a more accurate description was that they let you have it.

Let you.

Let you have one day to sit on that stiff funeral home sofa. To stare at her, unrecognizably still in her casket, as friends and neighbors swarmed to offer their condolences. To mourn with you.

But somehow also separately from you.

And tomorrow, after she was behind a cold slab of marble, you'd be off again. Creeping closer to your own death until one day you might be placed in a plot adjacent to her.

Together.

But not really.

If there was anything left of you.

It wouldn't do to think of that today though.

Today, you would sit here. Enjoy your break and bask in the remnants of her soul that still lingered in and around her body.

It brought you some comfort to feel it move the way she did.

It danced like she danced around the kitchen, the boundaries of it crinkling like the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. A phantasmic remnant of her lovingly worried gaze was on you every now and again, creating the urge to say "I'm ok Nonnie." To lie to her, like you always did. And whenever one of her friends knelt their own aging bodies to pray at her side, you could practically see the softness of her cushion their jagged edges, comforting them.

You didn’t dare go up yourself though.

Not yet.

Not unless you wanted the Funeral Director to haul you out of the casket because somewhere deep down you just wanted to crawl into it with her and scream,

“Take me with you. Don’t leave me like I left you.”

Because you were not ok.

You closed your eyes as a phantom hand touched your shoulder, as it attempted to soothe the pain deep inside you but only managed to stir up another kind of pain. Another kind of mourning.

If only he was really there, you could ask him to take you with him too. Take you away from here to wherever he and Nonna would wait for you.

An impossible request.

The weight of the sofa shifted beside you and you opened your eyes. You expected to find Fortunata or Antoinette—two of Nonna’s closest friends who could claim a spot beside you if they truly wanted—but instead you found Gabriel’s stiff inhuman posture and expressionless face staring ahead of him at the casket.

“You could have helped her,” you said instead of a greeting. What good would a greeting do? “Healed her.”

You briefly wondered if you'd imagined the corner of his mouth quirking before he spoke.

“And if I told you I had? If I spared her a worse fate? Lessened her pain? Lessened yours?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

You turned back to watch the casket with an unsatisfied hum.

Time passed and you sat silently together as you fought to keep your emotions in check with Gabriel's presence. You weren't nervous, per se; more annoyed. Angry, even. Questioning why he was here on this day out of all days.

All your life, you explained away his presence as a guardian. Unseen and unknown to everyone but you. He used to protect you or so you could recall, but as you got older that seemed to stop.

And he was more of a harbinger of doom than a deterrent of it.

Well, not doom.

Fate.

Or God's will or some shit like that. You didn't know anymore. Didn't care. You only cared about getting to the finish line. Freeing your soul of this curse. Getting your prize.

Heaven. Home. Peace with the ones you loved.

With Nonna.

With Eddie.

So if Gabriel was here, it meant something was about to happen. Something unsavory. Something...

You blinked and he disappeared from your peripheral vision suddenly, and just beyond the space he had previously occupied, stood a man in a black cassock.

Jinette approached you but you didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention until he said your name and offered his condolences.

"May I sit?" he gestured beside you.

"Seat's taken," you responded coldly.

"Ah, your mother, yes," he nodded in realization, and you watched him pull a chair up from one of the rows behind you.

You wouldn't be the one to tell him that your mother hadn't shown her face since you arrived back in Chicago late last night. She had done her duty, arranged the funeral and called you home. Beyond that her obligation was almost over; she could be free.

There had been a brief moment between the two of you when you let yourself into Nonna's flat and found her at the table surrounded by paperwork and old pictures, and you thought for the briefest second that this might be a turning point. That she might exhume whatever love she used to have for you, buried so deep in her heart, so you wouldn't have to mourn alone.

Instead she said she was sorry, then kissed your cheek and left.

And really you only had yourself to blame at the disappointment that punctuated the interaction. How could you have expected anything more than that when the bar was already set so low?

"California is a long way to come just for funeral rites," you said once Jinette was settled.

"I'm afraid that's not what I'm here for."

"Then to attend a funeral of a very devout woman," you amended.

"I'm not here for that either." You would give it to him, the remorse plastered on his features almost looked sincere. "Unfortunately, there is a very dire situation and the Order is in need of your experti--"

"No," you cut him off swiftly. "Tomorrow. You can ask me to go tomorrow. Not today."

The usual coldness of his gaze returned and he addressed you stiffly.

"You cannot refuse. Must not. This is your duty."

You turned to him, hand shooting from your lap of its own volition to grab his robe and pull him close enough that your noses practically touched.

The funeral goers around you began to murmur--your Nonna's friends whispering in fear and shame, saying a prayer to spare them of whatever wrath would befall you for defying and possibly harming his eminence--but you ignored them.

You knew you might pay for it later, but for now your rage was warranted.

"Don't lecture me about duty," you hissed at Jinette. "My entire life has been about duty. Her life too. If you want me to go? You'll beg me. Not guilt me. But I promise that the answer will still be no."

Something wicked flickered inside of you, and you wondered if you could smite Jinette. Just a little bit. If you could channel the deep-rooted grudge against your plight and let him feel the consequences that waited to befall someone who had nurtured it.

Then you felt a slight disturbance in the room.

The calm of Nonna's soul was shaken from its bliss, and you could practically hear the sharp, punishing clicks of her tongue as you fisted Jinette's robe tighter and tighter. The flame of the candles beside her casket flickered, the leaves on the flower arrangements that filled the room began to wilt, and the whispers around you got louder until they roared in your ears.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as the feeling of Nonna's disappointment surrounded you--filled you--and you fought it for as long as you could.

But if anyone here was going to reprimand you in this room, in this world, it would be her.

You let Jinette go and fell back into the couch with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. He heaved several heavy breaths and patted his chest pathetically.

"Tomorrow," you told him as Nonna's soul and the murmurs of the people around you settled back down into a serene silence.

The tears finally fell after he left, and you closed your eyes as Eddie's ghostly touch softly wiped them away.

"Tomorrow..."

November 6, 1983

Twang.

He enjoyed it.

Twang.

Enjoyed plucking the guitar strings and letting the reverberation travel along his fingertips and into the very core of him.

Twang.

Deep down in that dark pit where you seemed to hide, every note was like a starburst of brightness and good feelings. Things so foreign and forgotten to him now, yet still so integral to Eddie Munson.

He wasn't Eddie anymore though.

So he resented the fact that he enjoyed it so much.

"Play something," you would whisper in those hidden depths, like a devil on his shoulder, and he constantly fought the temptation to follow that urge. "Play me a song, I know you know how."

He never gave in though.

Could never give in.

It was bad enough that he hid you from Henry, that he even listened to you at all. But feeling something--doing something--was better than feeling nothing in the boring, timeless eternal void of the Upside Down. So he would allow himself these brief visits to the trailer, he would tolerate your soft words and the ever-present softness of the ghost that seemed to haunt him here, so he could pluck a few twangs of the guitar strings and bask in the sparks of euphoria they would bring.

And it was enough. It had to be enough.

Then, when he got bored or hungry or irritated by you, away he would go again.

"I would argue that me being annoying is the reason you still keep me around."

He hissed at you and pulled his hands away from the guitar spitefully.

Twang.

He watched as one of the strings seemed to pluck itself and debated whether he could reach out and take a swipe at you, but there was a sudden pain beneath his sternum. Odd, seeing as he barely felt pain in this body now. He clicked his claws together contemplatively, then hesitantly rubbed at it to soothe the ache, and as he did, he felt the echoes of your soft sigh somewhere deep inside him.

He faltered for a moment, unsure if he should feel some sort of satisfaction that he had comforted you, or resentment that he had fallen for it.

He hated you. Hated your presence there. Hated that you were somehow here when you left him to this fate. Hated that you made him weak again when Henry had remade him to be strong. Infallible.

You might very well be his downfall one day.

And still he couldn't fathom being without you again.

He growled deeply and, unexpectedly, the trailer shook around him, walls clattering, remnants of knick knacks falling.

For a moment, he watched it in awe. Believed that he was the cause of it. That the power Henry had helped him unlock had been activated with his spite.

Until everything started to shake.

The Upside Down became unsettled, the very ground beneath him shifting with some seismic agitation. Roiling and churning, changing.

There was a cacophony of restlessness through the collective consciousness as all of the creatures of the Upside Down felt the disturbance. As Henry felt the disturbance and questioned its origin, because it had not been of his design.

Almost immediately, he was singled out amongst the masses, ordered to his Master's side.

Who else could find the cause of this turmoil than Henry's right hand? His loyal servant? The Beast he created to strike on his behalf, to herald in the end?

Eddie didn't hesitate.

He left the trailer and took flight swiftly and dutifully, beating his wings powerfully to get to Henry as quickly as he could.

To get away from you as quickly as he could.

You and your comfortable constant presence in the respite of the trailer.

“Do not be afraid. Our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

#aasb #as above so below #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #Eddie Munson x oc #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fic

[jo-harrington]

Purgatory - Vampire!Eddie Munson

Summary: The stage is set for the Battle for the Fate of Hawkins. And only the dead have seen the end of the war.

Pairings/Relationships: Vampire!Eddie Munson and Vecna, Vampire!Eddie Munson and The Party, Implied Vampire!Eddie/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Graphic Gore and Violence, Major and Minor Character Deaths, Kas!Eddie/Vamp!Eddie, Body Horror, Blood, Transformation, Loss of Soul, Rebirth, Other Biblical and Literary References

Note: Woof, ok this was...a lot. Had to dig in deep for this, as did a lot of our characters. Purgatory is the third prequel to my upcoming series As Above, So Below. This one, once again, could be read as a stand alone. But I would suggest reading Heaven and Hell first. Shit, read all 3 in the same sitting. This one is very heavy, and honestly...just the tip of the ice burg of angst that is coming in this series.

Thank you to @myosotisa @ghost-proofbaby @br0ck-eddie @pastel-pillows @big-ope-vibes for all helping me see to the end of this specific installation. Let alone the countless people who I have edged with snippets of the actual series itself.

That being said, this fic and the subsequent fics/chapters in the series will not be for the faint of heart. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find the As Above, So Below masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"Demons can exist in purgatory[,] just as they exist on Earth, but they are there to test the soul of the sinner." —A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo (2021)

Hawkins, Indiana - September 8th, 1987

The day the Master called Eddie to action was a day like any other.

For months the creatures of the Upside Down had waited, bored and restless, to be put to use.

Eddie waited, bloodthirsty and ready to strike.

Henry's greatest creation, according to the Master himself, even greater than the Mind Flayer; however, he was still weak, still recovering from the attack that nearly killed him. It wasn't enough to just send his minions out for revenge. He wanted them to be the harbingers to his imminent arrival, to his destruction.

So they waited. They flew and fought and fed.

Eddie no longer needed to learn in order to do these things. He simply knew. Being a part of their collective consciousness was invigorating, relieving. He had been stripped away of all things human...almost...so it was a relief to feel a constant presence at the edge of his mind, to know he wasn't alone.

The day the call was given to strike, the anticipation rolled through their collective connection and then crashed into their minds.

Go. Bring about my arrival. Let them know the end is near.

Eddie couldn't contain himself; he was expected to lead, of course, and he would not let his Master down.

His legs pushed him off the ground and his wings beat most powerfully to let him soar through the skies...and the others followed. The bats with him and the demogorgons raced to follow on the ground below. They dove through the Gate, tore through the membrane, and were birthed into Hawkins to begin the devastation.

But he had a mission.

While the others began their exploration of this new world, their new playground, his eyes followed the outline of the glowing fissure straight to Lover's Lake where he could sense, funnily enough, two lovers waiting.

Eddie closed the distance to the lake with a few powerful beats of his wings and descended upon them.

With his arms outstretched, he grappled the man, pinned him to the ground as he sunk his fangs deep into the pale column of his neck. The woman's bloodcurdling screams didn't stop Eddie from relishing in the feast, nor did her fists upon his back, or the dull knife that pierced his side. It was a nuisance more than anything, and with a vague thought, some others were summoned, and within seconds she was subdued.

The human blood was a refreshing change from the countless creatures that sacrificed themselves for his sustenance in the Upside Down. He could taste memories, taste dreams, taste the imminent death as he pulled mouthful after mouthful of life-force from the man's weakening body.

As the woman screamed again and the man groaned her name, as he used the last bit of energy to reach out for her, Eddie felt it. It was stinging and sickening and he yearned for it.

Love.

Having had enough, Eddie savagely ripped away from the man's throat. The force snapped the man's neck, effectively finishing him off. The woman's sobs tore through the air and Eddie stood and turned his sights on her now.

Her eyes widened in recognition and fear as he took those few calculated steps closer.

Eddie basked in it.

"Hey Wheeler," he hissed. Jonathan's blood bubbled and dripped out of his mouth, over his chin. It sprayed onto Nancy's heartbroken, fear-filled face. "Henry has a message."

September 15th, 1987

"You failed me," Henry croaked as Eddie stood before him.

Eddie should have been afraid. But he was overwhelmed more than anything.

For nearly a year, since he had begged for mercy, he had felt nothing but the will of his master, the thoughts of his brethren, and a great, gaping void. Certain things...pain...hunger...power...they were all he needed to sustain him. To satisfy him. The Upside Down itself worked hard to keep him alive, and life was all he needed.

He had been hollow and it was a mercy.

But when he first fed on human blood...

Feeling exploded within him. Woke up the dormant parts of his mind and his body. Every time he fed it got stronger. Not just the emotions of his victims but the parts of him he thought he had sacrificed for his survival.

First it was pain. His own pain from the endless torture he had endured, amplified. The physical pain echoed through his memories, wracking his body. He had been gliding through the air over Hawkins watching the carnage ensue, and when it shot through him like a pulse and caused him to crash in to someone's yard. He had barely gotten to his feet when the emotional anguish took over.

At first, he had let the pain become anger. And he had lashed out. It was the perfect motivation to wreak havoc on the town that hurt and hated him so. To get revenge.

Then today Henry had given him a special task. The gates had been created, but he still was unable to cross. His body still too weak, but the fact of the matter was...the final lamb had yet to be sacrificed. Somehow she was still alive. And Henry trusted Eddie to take care of it.

And Eddie would have. But those kids...those pesky twerps anticipated the attack.

As soon as he had received his orders, he had taken to the skies, crossed the gate, and fought his way through Hawkins.

Eddie had been instrumental in planning the assault; countless hours of strategic DnD planning put to good use. The creatures of the Upside Down couldn't be very far from their master without becoming uncontrollable so the assault was limited to Hawkins until Henry could cross. The town was cut off from the rest of the world; a perimeter was created: no one in, no one out. No phone lines. Some pesky radio signals but the bats quickly became attuned to it.

The thing about a small town was that they rallied in times of crisis.

The citizens of Hawkins defended their homes. They held a daily memorial for those who didn't survive the night. Some used the church as a makeshift hospital, others took shifts during the day to fortify houses and get supplies, when the creatures of the Upside Down took to the shadows and attacked only when necessary.

Eddie, though, could withstand the sun, withstand the burns, so he attacked when they least expected it.

He cut through neighbors--Mike Lewenski and Pastor Charles.

Mrs. Mayfield had apparently died in the "earthquake," leaving poor Max to live with the Byers. So it was a surprise to find Max hunkered down at the Sinclair's home.

He cut through family--Ted Wheeler and Charles Sinclair.

Might have had something to do with Jonathan's death and Joyce in mourning. Might have had something to do with the fact that the Sinclair's just had a bigger house near the Wheelers so there was more of a chance to defend her. More people around.

He cut through friends--Vickie and Rick.

He propelled his body through the door of the house, only to come face to face with...

Lucas and his wrist rocket. Steve and a god damn bat with nails. Dustin and a spear.

...Max's unseeing eyes that pierced straight through him.

Eddie froze.

And all of the anger that propelled him dissipated.

And the voice started, the feelings, the memories started. They overwhelmed him, overtook him.

Henry was using him. These were his friends. Max was his friend. They had fought alongside him. He fought to protect them. He died to protect them. He sacrificed himself for their salvation.

The guilt and the sadness and the hopelessness and the camaraderie.

The memories of their laughter and their tears.

Lucas let the stone in the wrist rocket loose and it plunked off of Eddie's bare torso and onto the floor.

The screech that Eddie let out was unholy and caused everyone to fold in on themselves and cover their ears in pain.

Eddie propelled himself into flight once again, out of the window and into the sky, back to his Master.

He expected to be cut down by Henry immediately when he arrived empty handed.

A pack of demo dogs waited at his feet, mouths snarling and dripping with saliva, ready to devour him.

Eddie knew them. He knew practically all the creatures of the Upside Down at this point. But he had always had a soft spot for the demo dogs; they were young, acting only on instinct. He played games with them in the infinite boredom of their existence.

And now they would be his executioners.

The Upside Down was an unforgiving place and so was his Master.

"I give you one simple task," Henry groaned. "And you failed me. I didn't create you to fail, Beast."

The dogs shuffled, feeling their master's anger course through them. Eddie could feel it too. But for Eddie, it was buried beneath the buzzing of pain and remorse and guilt and relief. He would die soon, he deserved it.

For as vicious as he was, Henry was also poetic. The creatures of the Upside Down had given him life, they could take it away just as easily.

He stared at the dogs. There was one he especially liked. The runt of the pack--who he had called Cerberus--was right in front of Henry and growling a little less than the others. Cerberus hesitated often, wanting to cross the divide and stand beside his friend.

Eddie could feel it. And it hurt.

"No Master," he finally answered. "You didn't."

"Let this be a lesson," Henry began, his hand raised to strike.

Eddie closed his eyes prepared--

He was meant to die anyway.

--only for the wet, squelching sound of flesh hitting the ground to his ears. A searing pain surged through the collective consciousness and brought Eddie to his knees.

He was not made to kneel. But as he opened his eyes and saw his companions dead, slaughtered before him, he knew that Henry only cared for obedience.

"Go," Henry warned him. "This is your only warning."

September 21st, 1987

They refused to meet with him alone.

He could tell by the sheer number of them that showed up.

Mike and Nancy, Harrington and Buckley, Henderson, Gareth and Jeff and his old pal Mickey, Callahan and Hopper, a tall man with white hair and a severe face, and the girl.

Eleven.

The rendezvous point that he had chosen was his old trailer, half-destroyed by the emergence of the gate. He'd used the trailer as a refuge point before, to hide from the sun, just as he was doing now as his Master rested. As he should be resting, gearing up for another night of warfare.

Only...he didn't want to be in this war anymore.

It was tricky, meeting here, right under Vecna's nose. But after the past week, ever since the dogs were killed, he had decided enough was enough.

He had seen more people die in the last week than he had since his return to Hawkins. By his hand, by the creatures, on Vecna's whim. And just as many of the creatures of the Upside Down, creatures he was responsible for as their leader after Vecna, be cut down remorselessly when they were just...running on instinct, just like he was.

If they had a mind, a soul, they would have stopped.

Although, he didn't have a soul anymore, and for some reason he had stopped.

The guilt was eating at him.

It was the blood, it had to be. It sustained him and also changed him.

But sometimes the voice in his head was too overwhelmingly familiar, there was no way it could have been the blood. And in those times, all he could do was to feed again to quiet it down.

Eddie had...altered his appearance to be more palatable. He knew it was overwhelming; the glimpses he had gotten of himself...were horrifying. In car windows, in broken hallway mirrors, in unseeing eyes. He couldn't glamour his way into a trustworthy facade though, so he broke his body yet again.

And it was painful, but it was a drop in the ocean of pain he had caused in Vecna's name.

He'd bitten back the screams as the pain cut through him again. All of the extra parts he had been given broke and condensed and folded and slithered beneath his skin. His extra teeth receded and drilled deep into his jaw; that hurt the most.

He healed miraculously quickly, he had found, despite bullets and knives and even a crossbow shot through his neck. But he was dead, undead, so nothing could kill him except for his Maker.

This was no different.

He found though, as the skin knitted itself shut after his transformation back into Eddie Munson, that there was an interesting contrast between the emptiness where a soul should be, and the fullness of all his extra parts stuffed beneath his skin. He was full, uncomfortably so, but still craved to fill the void.

Hungered for it.

"If this is some kinda trap Munson," Hopper was the first to speak, cocking his hunting rifle. "Just know that I'll put you down so fast--"

"This isn't a trap," Eddie replied boredly. "It's...a truce."

"How are we supposed to trust you?" Callahan grumbled and Eddie turned to him. "You've been a lying little sneak your whole life. How are we supposed to trust you now?"

"You can ask me whatever questions you want," Eddie grinned, flashing his fangs, taking great pleasure in the rude cop cowering in fear. "I'll answer them all."

The questions came rapid fire.

How was he alive? How was he a bat thing now? Actually how was he not a bat at this moment? Why did he work for Vecna?

He answered them to the best of his ability. Some things he knew. Some things he didn't. Some he speculated. But with every question answered, he felt lighter somehow.

As though every bit of help he gave was a sin being forgiven.

Finally, a voice popped up that he had expected all along.

"How did he let you go?" Eleven asked.

"He didn't," Eddie divulged. "I'm still very much his right hand man. But he's taken too much. I'm done. He'll kill me if I leave him, so I'm pulling a Benedict Arnold. We might as well make my betrayal worth it."

The group chattered amongst themselves again, coming up with different ideas.

Could Eddie tell them Vecna's plan if he crossed over into Hawkins? Could he tell them how many creatures were still in the Upside Down waiting?

"Can you kill him?" Dustin speculated. "You're powerful! And you said it yourself, he's still weak. Can't you do what we tried to do? Cut off his head?"

"He made me what I am," Eddie sighed. "Unlike the...the bats and the demogorgons, I have will. But he isn't going to let me walk up to him and kill him."

"But you're here."

"This is different."

"But you can help us fight!"

"And how do we do that? Vecna has an army," Mike argued, full of doubt.

"Then we need to have an army too!" Dustin exclaimed.

"And where do you think we're gonna get one?" Nancy asked cynically, then glared at Eddie. "More and more of us die every day."

The discussion continued.

There was no way they could call for help, no way for anyone to get in without being killed. Despite all of the supernatural activity in and around Hawkins, even though it had been quiet after the "quake", people tended to stay away. Government interference and all that. No one questioned that the sleepy town had gone quiet 2 weeks ago.

The town was damned and would suffer a fate worse than death. No one would care.

And that's when the idea struck Eddie.

Death.

He cleared his throat to get their attention and when they ignored him, he let out a warning screech that caused them to wince.

"I'll take care of it," he told them, voice returning to normal. And he would have laughed at all the raised eyebrows and doubtful looks. "You'll just have to trust me."

September 23rd, 1987

Eddie stared up at the pillars. At his classmates, at the bodies that had been hung as trophies in the wake of Vecna's triumph at opening the gates.

During Eddie's torture, Vecna boasted about his victory over Eleven and the pesky residents of Hawkins. How had made the landscape of his mind a reality, how he had brought the bodies to the Upside Down to have as a match set along with their souls. They would always be a part of him.

Just like Eddie was.

Vecna barely came back to this place though, having set up a new base at the center of Hawkins where the gates converged. Always ready for the moment he would be able to cross through. So Eddie was free to defile the "palace" as he pleased.

He gritted his teeth and worked tirelessly to carve the bodies loose from the pillars that had been molded around them. His claws splintered and ached, only to heal back tougher when he allowed them to.

Patrick and Fred and Chrissy.

He lured in the creatures of the Upside Down with an infernal howl, and the ones who were desperate to feed responded quickly, knowing that his calls usually meant a meal was imminent.

Instead they only found their demise.

He tore them apart, just as they had torn into him. Carved out the most desirable pieces. He had done this countless times with action figures and such for DnD sessions. How much different could it be to add wings and talons and fangs to a body?

Fred and Chrissy and Patrick.

Vecna hadn't just gifted him with new life, he had made Eddie like him. Unlocked abilities buried within. So far he'd only used it to control the creatures of the Upside Down, to prey on the weak minds of the humans back in Hawkins. But now he would use it for good.

Those abilities were how their skin knitted back together and their bodies accepted all of the extra parts.

When it got to their eyes, he had to dig deep. Summon some part within him that he didn't even know was there. He had to heal them, have their bodies regenerate something that was long gone.

He closed his eyes and his hands hovered over them. He thought of the many times he had written and imagined healers in a strange land for a campaign. What did they think of as they cast healing spells or revived a fallen comrade?

They thought about light, about goodness, about love.

He could feel it filling him and spilling out of his being like a cup overflowing.

And he focused that feeling on them. Willed his hard work to take and for them all to become like him.

Chrissy and Patrick and Fred.

Their eyes were restored; Eddie had blinked and there they were. Different. Not perfect. More akin to a bat's eyes than a humans. Cold and dark.

He reached deep within him once again, searching for that light, and when he found it he concentrated once more, envisioned what they would do when they returned to the land of the living.

He imagined what his own resurrection had looked like. Imagined how he felt when he took those first breaths.

Wings began to twitch, then fingers. Breaths were taken, sounds emanating from their once-quiet bodies. Groaning and hissing and shuffling.

As Eddie opened his eyes once more he saw them.

Chrissy. Fred. Patrick.

Eddie recalls all the vampire movies he had watched over the years. At the theater, on Svengoolie. All the creatures and crypts, the heroes and hunters. He had vaguely considered himself a vampire over the span of the past year.

But for some reason, seeing the three of them returning to life...by his hand...for the sake of salvation...

Reborn.

...reminded him of Dracula and his three Brides.

September 29th, 1987

The plan was not simple.

Any time someone said a plan was simple, they were lying.

The plan to kill Vecna relied on them also killing Max. Again. Let Vecna cross through the Gate into Hawkins, have Eleven kill him once and for all, in a world where he didn't have an advantage over her. And then revive Max once more before her soul was lost forever.

So Eddie found himself, once again, at the Sinclair's house. As a guest this time instead of an intruder.

Eleven needed to be at the Gate, waiting for Vecna's arrival with the others, poised to weaken him and attack as soon as he crossed over.

Which meant there was only one other person with the ability to bring Max back in time.

Eddie.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Dustin questioned as Eddie got settled, his body too big for the tiny room they had holed up in.

"I can do it," Eddie promised. "I've already brought...what...10 people back in the past week?"

"As bat people," Dustin reminded him.

"They're alive, aren't they," Eddie deadpanned. "Most of all they have their sight back too...I'm gonna fix Red up, good as new."

"You're not even sure if you can even fix yourself!" Dustin exclaimed.

"God it's been a year, you'd think that you'd be, I don't know...happy to see me alive or something," Eddie grumbled.

"Kind of hard to be happy when you killed a bunch of my friends," Dustin reminded him.

"He's got a point," Max chimed in from her place in the cushy recliner, causing Dustin to hold his hands up in emphasis.

"Fine," Eddie hissed. "Let's get this over with then, please?"

As he held his hand over Max's face, the same way that he had Vecna do in the visions that were projected into his mind, he should have focused on all the bad emotions that plagued Max. Her sorrow, her pain and loneliness. He should have sapped out all the good and let her fall into a state of hopelessness and despair. Then from there, when she was just a speck of light in an ocean of darkness, he would snuff her out.

Instead...

Instead Eddie thought about his own light. How it had started out as just a speck in an ocean of darkness. How Vecna had submerged him in darkness. Removed all of the parts of him that made him Eddie Munson. Called him a Beast. How over the course of the past 21 days, he had earned his redemption.

He was doing a good thing.

He wasn't killing Max. He wasn't damning the citizens of Hawkins to Hell. They would get their salvation.

He would be a hero.

And as she took a final gasping breath as he stole the light from her, and the ground began to quake, Eddie felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Before he became this thing.

Before his body was ravaged in the Upside Down.

Before he had seen Chrissy's body crumble.

Maybe he had never felt it before.

Before he started his senior year for a third time.

Before his only shot at love walked out of his life forever.

Before his mom died.

He felt hope.

The battle had been devastating. The armies of the Upside Down thrived once their Master had joined them. They had permission to do to the residents of Hawkins what they pleased.

But the residents of Hawkins had their own army waiting.

They rallied one last time at the chance to save their town, to save the world, because if Vecna was allowed to win, it would all perish.

Eddie was thankful he hadn't been a part of it. He had seen enough bloodshed. And quite honestly, he had felt enough of the chaos burn through the collective consciousness.

Eddie also felt the triumph in his connection with his own creations. He could feel them subdue their would-be brethren. Could feel the shock from Vecna himself as his Beast had turned around and created more to stifle his efforts.

But Death begets death.

First Mike died; he had always been a lucky little shit, but his luck ran out. The whole Wheeler family, short the littlest Holly, seemed to have a knack for sharpshooting. They were taking pot shots at demobats from the roof of the bakery, when a swarm of them dive-bombed.

His death lit the fuse.

A burst of Eleven's power became uncontrollable as she realized Mike was gone, and it leveled the Hawkins town center. Buildings crumbled, the clock tower came crashing to the ground. The citizens that had taken shelter there had been killed. Both Robin's and Steve's parents had been there.

Vecna had taken advantage of the momentary weakness and doubled down on his assault. More creatures of the Upside Down spilled from the gate like oil and quickly overtook the battlefield.

Mike's death might have lit the fuse.

But Hopper's was the one to cause the explosion as he finally succumbed to the Demogorgons that he had fought time and again.

Vecna didn't stand a chance once Hop's body hit the ground.

Because Eleven, who had already lost so much, had nothing else to lose. The world could burn for all she cared, if only Vecna burned too.

Eleven dug in deep, to the core of the Earth itself, and her wrath tore through Vecna with the force of a thousand supernovae.

He couldn't control it anymore, couldn't fight back.

He simply perished...

And Eddie felt the moment that it all came to an end.

It was a shockwave through the collective consciousness, it blinded him, had his ears ringing. It was a solar flare that disrupted the frequencies of all the creatures bound to the Upside Down.

...and so did Eleven.

September 30th, 1987

The aftermath of the battle was chaos.

They didn't have days or weeks to mourn, it all needed to be cleaned up quickly. What came from the Upside Down needed to be returned.

Max was revived, easily, thanks to Eddie's practice with his own creations. Her sight, however, remained lost.

"I'm sorry Red," he apologized.

"It's fine," she sighed exaggeratedly. "Guess I just have to keep learning braille."

She laughed, but Eddie knew it was just to avoid mourning an even greater loss.

The day for them to mourn would arrive soon. It was just not today.

It had taken an entire day for them to get things in order, get a plan in place.

The town was still destroyed, countless dead. But they had a plan.

There was no government to help them now, no secret agents. No one was coming to help, they had to do it themselves.

The town was still destroyed, countless dead. But they had a plan.

Eddie himself was tasked with wrangling the creatures of the Upside Down back to their realm, and then closing the gates for good as quickly as possible. With the power Vecna had unlocked within him, the responsibility could only fall on his shoulders.

He had asked his three brides--was still funny--to help him keep an eye on the perimeter of Hawkins. They flew overhead scouting as he flexed his ability through the collective consciousness to get control over the creatures running through town.

He led most of them through the gate himself, like a shepherd leading his flock.

It was almost funny now, he was still collecting lost little sheep.

Eddie vaguely wondered how he would fix himself. With this power now, maybe he could undo all that Vecna had inflicted on him.

He could close the gates and fix himself and get back to living a normal life.

Maybe he could get his soul back; the hollowness...the void was almost...itchy now. Like it was waiting for something to fill it, he just had to find the thing that fit.

Maybe he could do the same to Chrissy, and Fred and the others. Get them all their lives back.

Maybe he could resurrect the whole damn town?

He had been known as a devil worshiper for years and now...he very well might be their savior.

Eddie headed back towards the gate, pep in his step despite the ruins of a town, the remnants of lives, that waited on the other side.

He could hear voices as he approached. Dustin and Steve, Patrick and Fred, Murray, and even Nancy, who had lost so much. Chattering about what would happen next.

He noticed something on the ground as he approached. Fallen through the gate at some point, he was sure. There was an ache within him at the sight of it, but he couldn't help but feel it offered him some hope.

A silver necklace, a cross with tiny metal hyacinths wound around the arms.

Eddie crouched and grasped the necklace as well as he could with his claws, intending on reverting to his human form, if only temporarily, to put the necklace on.

He continued his approach to the gate and he could see his friends clearly now.

But he stopped in his tracks.

"Eddie?" Dustin asked him. "You ok?"

He tried to take a step closer to it, willed his wings to propel him forward, but he couldn't.

"I'm stuck," he grunted. "I can't move. I-I'm stuck."

He could feel the buzzing of the collective consciousness echo through his mind. He closed his eyes and prayed for it to disappear but it only got louder.

And the dreadful realization hit him.

There was a price to pay when you entered the Upside Down. When it saved your life.

Vecna had paid it. And now Eddie was paying it too.

The Upside Down could give its gifts, but in return, it needed a Master.

It didn't matter if the gates were still open.

Eddie would never cross through them again.

San Gabriel Valley, California - October 1st, 1987

It was early. The sun had barely risen. But you'd been out here for a good long while.

You didn't make it out to California often, for good reason. The Archbishop always lectured you. You'd always wanted to go to the beach or...to Disneyland and ride the teacups. Something innocent. Something for you.

Something selfish.

But the last time you chose something selfish...someone had died.

A hike in the mountains couldn't be selfish though, could it?

You tried to convince yourself. Time to commune with nature. Commune with God. It could almost be encouraged.

If only the last few days hadn't left a sour taste in your mouth and screams lingering in your ears.

You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, thoughts racing.

Why were you still here? Surely you had exceeded expectations by now? Surely you earned some peace. Couldn't you just go home now?

Your throat tightened and you could feel tears prickle your eyes.

Couldn't you go to him now and find peace together?

When your eyes opened, you saw him on the path up ahead.

You'd gotten used to him popping up now. It was never a good sign.

You remembered him showing up at all times throughout your life: a constant companion as a child, a nagging mentor through adolescence, and now a warden.

It was never a good sign when he showed his face.

"What do you want?" you called blankly, shifting to the side of the path to skirt past him. You were done trying to plead. If he wanted something, he had to plead with you.

"It's coming," he replied calmly, serenely. As you shifted past him, he grabbed your arm and his touch lit every nerve in your body alight. "It's coming and you know what needs to happen now."

"What's coming?" you questioned. He stared at you with a small, patronizing smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You always say some cryptic shit like that. Spit it out or I swear I'll--"

"Fate." He stated simply. Purposefully.

And with a blink he was gone.

You were about to swear, to stomp...

But this was his mountain, and he wasn't about to let you have a temper tantrum on it.

The ground began rumbling beneath your feet. It shook suddenly and violently and sent you to your knees. Rocks on the inclined earth surrounding you started to tumble and roll, bounce even. You ducked and shielded yourself as boulders shattered and the debris scattered around you.

You'd incurred his wrath before. But it had never been like this. If only you listened the first time. If only you accepted what fate had in store like he said. It wouldn't be until later that you realized...

Regretfully realized.

...that the tremor spanned for miles. Buildings shook and crumbled, collapsed. The highways shifted and cracked, faults opened in the ground. People lost their homes, their lives.

And you were bitter.

It wasn't fair. None of it was. To anyone, least of all to you.

But that was the curse that followed you, wasn't it? Your fate was to defy fate.

This time...you really should have listened to him.

"Purgatory surpasses heaven and hell in poetry, because it represents a future and the others do not."

—François-René de Chateaubriand, Mémoires d'Outre-Tombe (1848)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson stranger things #stranger things fic #as above so below #vampire Eddie munson #kas!eddie

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 2: Descendió a los Infiernos

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 - Illumination

Summary: You arrive in Hawkins looking to offer assistance and come across some familiar faces; however, you're quick to realize that danger no longer lies dormant in the place you once called home.

Word Count: 13.7k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Violence, Action Sequences, Gore, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: I was gonna use this note to wax poetic about the Misa Criolla and I VERY MUCH WILL in its own post found here. But I need to take this opportunity to thank @chestylarouxx and @pastel-pillows for helping me clear some cobwebs when it came to the...well the literal webs I've woven with this chapter. Even me with my Pepe Silvia style board can get a little caught up in the details and need to talk it out or get another perspective to make sure things make sense. I appreciate you immensely.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“The path to paradise begins in Hell.” - Dante Alighieri

October 9, 1987

It had taken much longer to reach the center of town than you had anticipated.

Like the earthquake relief efforts in Los Angeles, and what you recalled of the news segment from Hawkins' first earthquake the year prior, you knew your best attempt at offering assistance would need to be done at some community gathering spot. Since Hawkins was a small town that meant the town hall, the church, or the high school.

You knew the lay of the land in Hawkins—even now, 3 years after you had packed up and left—so you were confident about getting there. Actually making it to your destination was another story.

The roads cracked and buckled erratically; there were abandoned vehicles intermittently along the curb with large dents, shattered glass, and blown out tires.

"Looks like something out of Mad Max," Mary Victoria commented as you passed by one that had actually been turned on its side. “I don't think an earthquake could do that."

You realized as you got further into Hawkins that the fog that had suddenly popped up as you approached the city limits wasn't fog at all; it was smoke. It emanated from the fissures in the ground, slow and sluggish as it permeated and mixed with the air, and left a haze that blanketed everything and blotted out the rising sun.

"That's because it didn't," you muttered. "If, uh, if you still have a rosary on you, I think now would be the time to start praying Mare."

It was still early but people were already out and about, walking to some unknown destination. Smart, given how much you struggled to navigate your car between the uneven pavement and your cracked windshield. Some had hand carts and wagons with supplies, others had garbage bags and cleaning supplies. The handful with pitchforks and rakes and other makeshift weapons...they were the most alarming to see.

No matter what tools or tasks they had though, their eyes followed your car with distrust as you rolled by them.

At a certain point you reached a thick fissure that split the main road into town in two. The concrete burst, leaving a fluted edge that you knew your car wouldn't be able to make it over. So, oncoming traffic be damned, you followed along it on the wrong side of the road.

It didn’t help matters that the fissure pulsed ominously and you could sense it as you drove.

The further you went, the worse conditions got, and quickly the Hawkins of your memory—a cherished, happy place—was replaced with something sinister and desolate. And where Los Angeles had been filled with community, camaraderie, and hope in the recovery, you could only feel a weariness in your surroundings that was reminiscent of the aftermath of a great battle.

Especially when you reached the Town Center.

The marquee of the Hawk had fallen, city hall destroyed, the library was a strange half-collapsed shell, and Melvald's and a half dozen other shops along Main Street were simply scorched piles of rubble, including the shop you used to live above.

Even if the street was safe to traverse, downed traffic lights prevented you from driving any further, so you stopped the car and you and Mary Victoria continued onwards by foot.

"I know you said it wasn't an earthquake but this must be the epicenter," Mary Victoria observed as she shrugged her jacket on and took her first few steps. You shouldered your bag and caught up to her.

"Hey," you grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks. "Lesson 1. Take a minute. Even people who haven't unlocked any abilities can sense it sometimes. Focus."

There was a beat and she shivered.

She could feel it. Good.

"It's like a cold draft when you walk through a house where someone died. Or when you step into a graveyard, and you can feel there's something different there."

"Consecrated ground?" she asked.

It was a start.

You, though...you knew what it was. Could feel it penetrate your body and mind and shake you to your core. Whatever this town had seen—the very earth itself—had left a scar. Once. Twice. Many times. And it could tell you more than any recount that a living being could.

You could hear the echo of screams and cries and roars like a ringing in your ear, a jarring tinnitus with no remedy. Feel the phantom rumble of the earth beneath your feet like there was some great primordial worm burrowing below.

There was a thin barrier between this world and another...right here in Hawkins…right in this square...and whatever was on the other side was eagerly testing the strength of it.

"Not consecrated," you finally answered. "Desecrated."

You surveyed the square, ignoring the scathing, suspicious looks sent your way as you did.

You weren't here to make friends, you just needed to find someone in charge. Needed to get to work.

There was a group of people near city hall digging through the rubble; a young woman with curly hair pointed and gave some direction as they moved pieces of all shapes and sizes. You took a few steps, hoping she might be the authority figure you were looking for...and then there was a commotion. The group frantically moved several cinder blocks...and revealed an arm, a face, and cold unseeing eyes.

You expected to feel a wave of sorrow to move through them, but you could only sense their collective fatigue and it numbed you further.

Another one. At least there's an answer. Where are we gonna put this one?

Your steps faltered and your foot knocked into something on the ground that clattered—a broken plastic walkie talkie; the young woman's head immediately snapped towards you. Her eyes got wide as though she was startled, and then her expression morphed into something angry and hateful.

Hostile.

"Hey!" she shouted at you.

Great, that was just what you needed.

You pivoted back so you could warn Mary Victoria to keep calm even if the townspeople got violent, but she stood, frozen, watching another group as they picked through a pile of boxes stacked in the center of the square.

You followed her line of sight until you landed on one of the volunteers. A young man with fluffy brown hair, an easy smile that grew as he chatted with his group, and a stubble-covered square jaw.

You could almost see the gears grinding in Mary Victoria's head as she watched him; you wondered if everything was going in slow motion for her.

His hair ruffled as he threw his head back in a laugh, the shrug of his muscles beneath his polo as he picked up a box to haul it over his shoulder, and the little crinkle of his forehead as he concentrated on balancing his burden.

Then along you came. The moments ticking along as you leaned into her eyeline, face contorted in confusion, hand coming up to snap her out of her reverie.

"What are you doing?" you asked. You looked back and forth between her and the guy in confusion.

"I'm just enjoying the view," she shrugged and continued to look unabashedly.

"We're in the middle of a mission. The middle of a disaster zone," you reminded her.

"And I'm a nun," she retorted and nodded back over at the guy. "But I'm not blind. He's pretty cute. I can multitask."

You rolled your eyes.

Of course you got the horny nun.

"Hey!" the woman shouted again.

"Shit," you groaned. "Act natural."

"What does that mean?"

"Hey! Who are you? FEMA?"

"Uhhhh," Mary Victoria fumbled and looked to you. “I mean…”

"No we—" you started but you were cut off.

"Military? Department of Energy?" she continued. "Because you're a little too late."

"Hang on a second. Do we look like we're Military?" Mary Victoria laughed.

"Mare," you groaned in warning.

"What?"

"No. We're not the military," you turned back to the woman.

“How did you even get here? The roads have been—”

"Nance! What's going on?" The guy Mary Victoria had been ogling jogged over, a curly-haired teenage boy hot on his heels. "Who are they?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Nance replied.

The two of them chattered and a handful of other bystanders also jumped in. Mary Victoria tried to explain as best she could, and you would have put a stop to all of it if your eyes hadn't been glued to the teenage boy's shirt.

A familiar black and white raglan sleeve shirt that had seen better days; the white was faded and dingy, the screeching demonic face had a splatter of blood across it, actual blood, making it look even more nefarious. There was a jagged slash through the words with edges that curled and a bloody bandage beneath it, but you didn't need to guess what it said.

Hellfire Club.

Does that mean he knew—

"Hey," the boy exclaimed and pointed a finger right at your face. "It's you."

What?

"Me?" You put a hand on your chest; the crowd wend silent and focused their attention on you. Your eyes flit across them and then to Mary Victoria who held her hands up innocently.

"You know her?" Nance asked the boy.

"From the tunnels," he elaborated and then turned to his friend. "We were there...Steve you remember with Dart and then she..."

"You!" Steve shouted in recognition. "But you're...how are you alive?"

And then you realized.

The tunnels. That night. With Dart. The tunnels.

November 5, 1984

It was the end of your shift--the end of your "week" after trading shifts left and right so you could have the 30th and 31st to celebrate Halloween with the guys—and relief sunk deep into your bones.

You had no plans for the next two days but your bed and all of the junk food and trash television you could stomach.

"You going to Eddie's after you get outta here?" your coworker asked.

And Eddie, of course...but unlike the stack of Kraft Mac and Cheese that you were stocking up on for your hedonistic sloth-fest, you could never get sick of your boyfriend.

"Not tonight," you shook your head. "I'll probably sleep right up til his set at the Hideout tomorrow night."

"Awww, sweetie," she cooed, knowing how many hours you'd pulled. "He better dedicate a song to you, making time for his shows every week."

You grinned a secret little smile at her and nodded.

He dedicated them all to you. Even if he didn't say it into the microphone, he would prove his devotion after the fact. With his eyes and hands.

And his mouth.

You said farewell to your coworkers and headed out into the parking lot; you cursed as you fumbled with the brown paper bags against your body and the keys in your hand as you approached your car.

"Of course," you angrily muttered to yourself as you felt the keyring slip through your fingers and hit the pavement. "You never get a cart. No matter how much you buy, you never get a cart. ‘It's not that bad. I can carry it.’ Idiot. No you can't."

You groaned a little as you knelt down, and as you tried to find them by touch alone, you saw the movement in your peripherals.

Just a flash, a barely-there blur in the darkness beyond the parking lot.

But you saw it.

Then in a blink, he was there.

Gabriel held your key, inches from your face; your eyes moved up his form to meet his. Eyes you knew so well, better than your own. They had always stared at you, unblinking, with a still coldness that would have made anyone else uneasy.

If only they could see him.

Actually, you hadn't even seen him in a while. Not since you’d run; not since he appeared in your rear view mirror, getting smaller and smaller as you drove further away what felt like a lifetime ago. You always knew he could catch up at any time, but the satisfaction had been so great. You hadn't seen him...but you had felt his presence every so often. It's why you always turned tail and ran again...until Hawkins.

You’d thought it was over. That you were free.

You should have known better.

“Have you come to bring me home?” You asked bitterly, unwilling to trust him.

He flexed his hand and the keys jingled, a sign for you to take them. You reached out, but before you could even touch them they were in your grasp and your arms were empty. Across the lot he stood by your car—you could see the tops of the paper bags through the windows, secured in your backseat with a seatbelt—and he nodded his head in the direction of the trees.

He then began walking.

So...not home. Somewhere else.

The urge to follow him was strong and your body reacted to it. Your feet moved without your permission, an automatic process akin to breathing; it was a survival method, to prevent whatever demise would befall you if you didn’t choose to do so on your own. You stopped yourself for a second, to test the mettle of whatever consequence might await you.

He’d never led you astray before; never lied...but never told the truth either. He always...omitted the truth. When you were young and naive in your faith, he brought you great comfort. But ever since you had begun to ask why, he became less willing to cooperate. This time though...something about him made you feel sick. The swell of his unseen form was overwhelming, and as the human form got further away, the celestial presence encroached on your body...smothered you.

You considered, for the briefest second, turning on your heel to run just like you had done for the past two years. However, a screeching, whistling roar began to fill the stillness of the night, louder and louder. Not in your ears, but in the very depths of your soul itself. And you knew you couldn't escape whatever he was leading you towards even if you wanted to.

So you followed silently. For miles. For hours.

Cars passed by on the road every so often, blinding you, but you couldn't stop. Even when you needed to rest, he kept walking and the tether between you was tested. You'd wince and groan but it fell on deaf ears. Every so often something would snap or creak or groan in the darkness around you and you would startle; he didn't even give you the decency to tell you everything was ok.

Some guardian angel he was.

You were confused when Gabriel finally stopped and you stepped in place beside him.

Merrill's Pumpkin Patch; you and Eddie had tried to make a visit last week ahead of Halloween but had been turned away. The pumpkins had all been dead and in various stages of putrefaction then, and it was even worse now.

A car sat idle in the middle of the field; the doors and the trunk were still open.

"Abandoned?" you asked.

"No," he responded, suddenly appearing within the field itself, staring at the ground. You groaned and followed after him, careful not to step on any of the rotten pumpkins as you did, until you reached the car...and a hole in the ground. There was a rope tied to the front grill of the car that dropped into the depths of the hole.

"What the fuck?" you muttered.

"Keep steady your steps according to His promise," Gabriel recited. "And let no iniquity get dominion over you."

"I'm not..."you shook your head at him and looked down into the dark abyss below you. "I really haven't been keeping up with Bible study since I...yeah."

"This is your first step." His voice surrounded you, and when you looked up to question him, he was gone.

"Gabriel?" you called out. "What...Gabriel come back! You led me to...a hole in the ground! What is this? G-Gabriel!"

When he didn't return or answer you, you shook your head and rolled your eyes. This was the first step? A test of faith? Of trust? To follow him blindly across town and to a field...only to have to walk all the way back? What a load of—

A scream came from the hole, a shriek.

"Help, help, help," someone called distantly from below then shrieked again. A bloodcurdling thing that sent a chill down your spine and had your hair standing on end.

You didn't think twice; you simply jumped.

It was instinct. Second nature. Fate.

It annoyed you.

Because what the hell.

No normal human being in their right mind would jump into a hole like this after hearing a scream like that.

As you landed, you were sure you pulled or twisted something in your hip; the action heroes in the movies made everything look easier than it was and it seemed some...subconscious instinct thought you were a hero without realizing you were just a grocery store clerk a few years out of high school where you really loathed to partake in PE anyway.

And you were cursed.

"It would really be nice if you could show up right now and tell me this isn't the curse, this is my destiny, huh Gabe?" you called out, hoping your guardian would hear you.

No luck.

"Fucker."

Looking around, you realized that the thought of what was waiting at the bottom of the hole hadn't crossed your mind at all. But a tunnel...well what else could you expect? It was dark and dank, filled with roots and vines and muck. The air was stale and filled with floating particles.

Could they be seeds? Like dandelion fluff?

You reached out a hand and as one of the particles landed on your skin, you felt a shock run through you.

You never truly understood what your grandfather or father did during their trips, their missions. All of the stories, the warnings, the preparation could never hold up to the reality and the electricity that coursed through your veins.

There were flashes before your eyes: a desolate waste, a gaping mouth, bloodshot eyes, a thousand teeth, veins black with tar-like blood, a pulsing portal, and monsters. So many monsters.

Your gifts, though dormant from misuse and lack of practice, might have been from Heaven, but they were certainly rooted on Earth. Now that you were introduced to the darkness, the infernal, the atrocity firsthand, you could feel the way it carved into the ground. Infected these tunnels like a cancer. Mingled and stained and tainted what would otherwise be bright and healthy and alive.

There was another shriek down one of the tunnels and you sighed and went into action.

If fate wanted you to be a hero, what else could you do but be one?

"Fucking angel should be the one swooping in to save someone stuck in a hole," you grumbled and started jogging through the tunnel in the direction of the sound. "Not me."

It wasn't as bad as you made it out to be; though out of practice, your body was made for this—you were born for this—and you quickly sensed the direction you needed to go in when the tunnel forked. Instinctually skipping over rocks and roots as they appeared underfoot. The density of the infernal particles became thicker the further you went, and you covered your mouth with the collar of your jacket so you wouldn't breathe it in.

You turned a corner and almost tripped over a group of figures huddled in the opening of what could only be described as the core of the tunnel system. A cavernous hub where several paths converged.

The figure at the front of the group threw something into the Hub and the cavern erupted into flames. You hadn’t smelled the gasoline until it ignited and when the heat of the fireball hit you, errant bits of flame licked at the edges of your clothes and hair.

The group—an older teenage boy and several kids—all recoiled and patted the singed bits of themselves. They startled at the sight of you.

“Jesus Chr—”

“Who is that? Who are you?”

“What the hell?”

“What are you just standing there for?!”

You watched, enthralled, as the infernal growths in the center of the cavern and along the walls writhed and screeched from the flames. You could sense…emotions emanating from it. Anger, pain, danger, wrath. But hands were quickly placed on your shoulders and you were turned back in the direction you came.

“I don't know you the hell you are but we need to get out of here,” the older boy said frantically. “Who sees a hole in the ground and just...jumps in.”

“To be fair, you all are also down here,” you argued.

“She’s got a point,” one of the kids piped up.

There was a shuddering screech that echoed from beyond the cavern, from one of the connecting tunnels, and the guy pushed past you and ran.

“Run! Go, go, go!” He led the way, looking back every so often to make sure everyone followed him, including you.

You were shoulder to shoulder with one of the kids at the back of the group who just kept saying “shit” over and over. You quickly skipped over an exposed root on the ground but the kid tripped and hit the ground. Hard.

The others kept running for a second but you skidded to a stop to help him to his feet, only for a slithering vine-like tentacle to shoot out from its place along the wall and wrap around his ankle. You watched, horrified, as it yanked him back to the ground and began dragging him back in the other direction. He screamed and the others immediately rushed to his aid.

The tentacle was strong but not as fast as they were. The kids grabbed his arms, his shoulders, and tried to yank him away from the infernal limb.

“I’ve got you Mike. I’ve got you,” the older boy was obviously the strongest and wedged himself beneath Mike, arms wrapped around his torso as he dug his feet into the ground for leverage.

“Don’t just stand there,” one of the kids—a girl—screamed at you. “Help! Do something!”

Little did she know, it had been building inside of you since the heat of the fire had touched your skin. You tried to swallow it down, unsure if you'd be able to control it for so long. When you'd been younger, when you didn't know how to channel it, you had hurt people accidentally. Destroyed things.

That same feeling of untethered power was trapped inside of you now, aching to be released. You didn't want to hurt anyone, let alone these kids. But you thought of the flashes you had seen when you touched the particle; you needed to use that power to stop the darkness now.

They would die anyway if you didn't.

You dropped to your knees by Mike’s feet and held a hand over his ankle. You closed your eyes and channeled the churning heat, along all of your nerves, through your limbs to the very heart of you. Then directed it outwards to your fingertips.

“I shall defend against the wickedness and the snares of the devil,” you recited under your breath and placed your hand directly on the slimy, writhing tentacle.

It stilled beneath your touch and loosened on Mike’s ankle as the shrieks from the hub echoed around you. Then from the one tentacle you touched, a burning red glow grew and it quickly moved through all of the connecting parts that had penetrated the rock and earth around you. It burned red hot like lava, illuminating the tunnels, and then rapidly cooled and crumbled into ash.

You let out a huff of disbelieving laughter; you didn’t really expect that to work.

“What did you do?” Mike stared at you with wide eyes. “What was that?”

“Are you good?” You asked him. “Are you hurt?”

“No! But how did you—”

He didn’t get to finish his thought as a cold, chilling breath hit the side of your face and a roar deafened you. The shock knocked you to your rear and you stared deeply into a petal-like mouth lined with razor sharp teeth as it shrieked.

The mouth snapped at you once, twice, and you almost held your hand up to inflict your power at it like you had with the tentacle but one of the kids got to his feet and immediately set himself between you and the creature, arms held out to shield you.

“Dart, Dart!” The creature backed away, and the petals shrunk in on themselves to form a cone-shaped head that tilted back and forth. “You remember me don’t you?”

The kids hissed at their friend and told him to get back.

“Trust me,” he reassured them, and then turned back to the creature. He removed his goggles and bandana, tipped his baseball hat further back on his head. “Dart, you remember me. Don’t you? It’s me, your friend. Dustin. Alright?

“Will you let us pass?” He asked sweetly.

The creature roared again, spittle spraying onto you and Dustin both. Your hand shot out and grabbed the back of Dustin’s shirt as he tried to take a step forward, but he looked back at you and waved you away.

“I’m sorry for the storm cellar,” he laughed at the creature. “That was real douchey of me.” The creature made a chittering sound as though it agreed with him.

You didn’t understand. Was this…his pet? Did he try to keep an infernal creature from another world—from the depths of hell—as a pet? Your thoughts briefly turned to Eddie, who had befriended all manner of creatures around Forest Hills, and then suspended your disbelief.

“You hungry?” Dustin then asked and dug into the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah?”

“What are you—”

“Shhhhh.”

“He’s insane.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’ve got your favorite,” Dustin ignored his friends and held out his hand as a peace offering. Palm flat, the way someone would if they were feeding a horse. “Nougat. You want it?”

Dart sniffed at it with a gurgling grunt and started tapping its feet impatiently as Dustin unwrapped the candy.

“Eat up buddy,” he said softly and waved at everyone to go on. “Delicious. There’s plenty more that that came from. Come on, there you go.” He helped you to your feet and then pushed you ahead.

You ran ahead to the head of the group to trail behind the older boy while the kids followed.

"You know where you're going?" you asked him, pointing to the makeshift map in his hand, drawn in crayon.

"Why? Do you?" he scoffed and shined his flashlight in your face. "Who are you anyway? You just show up and you...burned that thing! Are you another one like Eleven?"

"A thank you would be nice." You narrowed your eyes at him. "What do you mean another one? Who's Eleven?"

The tunnel suddenly shook violently and a collective roar came from behind you. The kids gasped in shock and pain as they fell and scraped elbows and knees on the tunnel walls.

"What was that?" the girl asked.

"They're coming!" Mike exclaimed. "Run! Run!"

"Let's go, let's go!" You were the one to lead the way this time, following your instinct once again. You pointed out the roots and bumps as you went. "Watch your step. Jump. Duck."

"There it is!" The older boy powered past you to get to the rope that they had dropped. He turned around and held his hands out. "Go go go, let's go!"

The girl was the first to step up and the older boy boosted her up and out of the hole. You helped with the next one. You were not as strong as you assumed the older boy was, but you could dig your heels into the ground and borrow a little bit of the earth's elemental fortitude for this.

"Lucas, grab on!" the girl reached out and grabbed the hands of the boy you were helping.

Mike was next. Between the older boy and the two kids above ground, he made it up safely.

But your time was up, and as the first of your pursuers rounded the corner and bounded for you, Dustin and the older boy grabbed a hold of one another to try and find comfort before their demise.

You, on the other hand, moved in front of them, shielded them as Dustin had to you; you had to protect them.

You clasped your hands together as though in prayer, and closed your eyes to focus. Time slowed down, and with every beat of your heart, another set of footsteps were added to the mix signifying another creature prepared to attack. You could imagine it. A wave of rocketing bodies and vicious teeth.

And you stood there, ready to cut through them, or be cut through yourself.

"I shall defend you in the hour of your conflict," you muttered and thought about a sword cutting through a foe, about hands parting the wild waves of the sea, about a wall of flames that could stop a foe dead in its tracks.

The heat built up once again, engulfed you and then exploded out from you. The kids above shouted in shock, followed by several pathetic whimpers. You opened your eyes as you felt a whip of air brush past you, and although you saw several charred bodies of the creatures at your feet, you turned and watched several more that had made it past your defenses continue down the tunnel.

"Where are they going?"

"They're going after El!"

"How did you do that?!"

"Nevermind that," you dismissed. "You need to get out of here. Get to safety."

You grabbed Dustin and helped the older boy boost him out of the tunnels.

"Let's go," the older boy held his hands out for you. "Up."

"No, you," you mirrored him. "I need to stop them."

"What?" he argued. "No, we need to get out of here."

"You!" you pointed up at Mike. "Where are those things going? You said they're going after El. Who's El?"

"She's our friend, she..." he shook his head. "The demodogs are going after her. To stop her. She's trying to close the gate."

"The...gate?" you narrowed your eyes at him.

"To the Upside Down," Lucas piped up. "It's another dimension."

It flashed in your mind's eye, the vision of the pulsing portal. And this time, standing in front of it was a small, lone figure.

Fuck.

"Are we just telling everyone now?" Dustin asked.

The kids all started bickering again and you rolled your eyes. If someone was in danger...regardless of whatever the gate was or whatever these things were or whoever El...Eleven was, you needed to stop it.

You were the only one here who could.

You slapped your hand on the older guy's shoulder and he stopped bickering with the kids to look at you.

"Listen," you started frankly. "I don't know what's going on. I really don't care to know either. Whatever you came down here for? It's dangerous. We all know that. Why you thought you and a gaggle of kids were a good...army? Candidates for heroes? I don't know.

"So let me do it. Let me help your friend, let me be the hero. I can handle it. Whatever all of you came down here for, it's only gonna get you killed if you keep at it."

His eyes darted back and forth between yours before he swallowed hard and nodded. He started climbing the rope to get up to the surface but stopped to look at you.

"We're gonna wait right here until you get back," he said with finality. "And if you need help...just yell."

You reluctantly nodded and waited until he got to the top before you turned and stared down the looming tunnel ahead of you.

You used the first few steps to reground yourself, to sense what was ahead. You could still feel the vibration of the retreating demodogs; they were either not as fast as they seemed or these tunnels were much more vast than you really acknowledged. You thought about the map that the kids had...the way that several tunnels switched back on themselves...

There had been the cavernous hub, sure...but another cavern...a room...

The Gate. A portal to another world. A doorway into hell.

The Order called them Atrocities. A wicked and unpleasant thing only meant to cause chaos and pain and sow destruction on the Earth.

How had you not sensed it this entire time living in Hawkins? When it was so obvious to you now? Maybe you had always known; you just ignored it. Maybe that's why Gabriel had led you here so obviously, so tediously. You hadn't wanted anything to do with the Order or the Atrocities or your fate. And it had snuck up on you, just like it always had.

A bitterness filled you; you didn't want this. You didn't want any of this. You wanted a normal life. You deserved a normal life.

You stopped in your tracks and sighed.

"What if I just turn back now?" you called out to no one. Or maybe to Gabriel or to God Himself. "What if I just choose to let the Darkness win? Huh? What then?

"Why do I need to do this? Why do I need to do this? It could be anyone else. It could be this...Eleven. It could be...I don't know it could be my Father? You could have brought him here. Why does it have to be me?"

There was a pulse through the earth then, another shaking rattling boom that nearly sent you to your knees. An ear splitting screech echoed through the tunnels and the vibration of the demodogs got faster, as though they were being urged into battle by their nefarious master.

And that was more than answer enough for you.

There was no one else. Even Eleven couldn't do it alone. It had to be you.

You conjured the image of the portal in your mind, the small figure that struggled against the immense power of Hell that laid behind the thin glowing barrier. You thought of the vastness of the tunnels and mapped them in the planes of your mind.

They were like veins and the portal was the heart.

One could stop the pulsing of the heart and the veins would stop too, or you could block the veins and starve the heart.

So while the figure—Eleven—struggled to stop the heart, you worked on the veins.

"By the Power of Heaven," you took a breath and steeled yourself in your anger, found strength in the smiting wrath of your lapsed faith. You'd been reciting the oath of the Order all night, and now would be no different. "I will thrust the wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls...back into the depths of Hell itself."

It took a beat to find it, to connect with the slow-moving tectonic plates of the Earth and the molten hot mantle below. You called it forward and it obeyed; burning, melting, molding until you felt your own body sink into the ground ever so slightly. Then you willed it outwards and the tunnel system rattled; the remnants of the organic, otherworldly matter shrieked in agony as they burned before they were crushed under the massive weight and pressure of churning earth.

You started at the hub—an easy target—and worked your way outwards. One by one the vibration of the demo dogs slowed and stopped as they succumbed to the assault. As the tunnels churned and burned and collapsed around them and the earth swallowed them whole.

What was the power of Heaven and Hell when the Earth could provide just as much wrath of its own?

You felt the distant feeling of betrayal as Dustin's Dart was consumed and put down, and then the rest. There was a collective cry to the master beyond the portal that they had failed, and then a shuddering wail as the connection to the other world was severed.

You opened your eyes briefly to celebrate your triumph, only to see the churning earth consume you as well.

It was an onslaught.

The burning soil, the turbulent motion, and then the stillness of it as you found yourself trapped in a peaty prison. You tried to take a breath, tried to scream, tried to see, but every time you moved, the dirt shifted around you.

You were surrounded. You couldn't move. You were buried. You still felt the vestiges of agony at the corners of your mind as your otherworldly adversaries' lives were taken from them and it spurned your own panic.

Before you had been overtaken, you had thrown your hands up to shield yourself; it provided you the tiniest little pocket of air. You shimmied slightly so you could gain access to it, so you could breath, and you took a hungry gulp of stale spare air. You tried to control your breathing; this was all you would have until you could get free.

If you could get free.

If you didn't die.

You felt an unfamiliar emotion try to overtake you; you had asked Father Jinette once what dying felt like. He said it would be peaceful; it was hell that you needed to worry about. But this...this didn't feel peaceful at all. It felt overwhelming.

If you died here, no one would ever find you. Those kids and their friend...would they tell anyone? Who would they tell? They didn't know who you were.

Your car. They would find your car in the parking lot at Bradley's though.

Your car.

"Gabriel!" you cried out in realization. You could barely hear yourself; there was dirt in your ears too. "Gabriel! Ga-gabriel please help me, please, please. I need you, I need you."

There was nothing. No sound, no shifting, you were still stuck in place with even less air than before.

You stifled your sobs, knowing they wouldn't help you.

You tried to call him silently again, in your head. You envisioned his stupid human form appearing in front of you or you appearing outside. Where was outside? Where were you? Even if you did manage to appear out there? Where would you be?

You didn't want this anymore, you didn't want this. You had never wanted this. Ever. But you’d told that boy that you would be a hero so he wouldn't have to be because you would survive and he wouldn't.

How wrong you were.

You were alone there. No one would come to save you. You would die.

You'd be buried here with the other bodies, with the demodogs and when someone noticed your car in the lot of Bradley's, they'd—

Your throat clenched.

Eddie.

They would call Eddie and say you disappeared and he would never know that you...that you loved him, that you were what you were, that you would die for him.

But could you live for him?

If you were gone unexpectedly, what would Eddie do? It would destroy him. It would kill him. And you couldn't do that.

So you had to live.

You had to crawl from this dank, dark pit. You had that little bit of space...you could wiggle and shuffle and get free.

You had power. You could control the earth, you could manipulate it. Draw the strength you needed from it to get free. You still had the shift of the core of the Earth on your side.

It was dark, unbelievably dark. You didn't know which way was up or down. Had the avalanche of soil knocked you backwards or were you still "standing" upright? Did you have to dig up? Or sideways? Was there another pocket of air somewhere you could get to before it was too late?

You considered all of the factors, all the reasons for living.

And the only one that really mattered as you began to dig...was Eddie.

You thought of your silly stupid boyfriend and all of the things that he did for you, all of the ways he made you happy, all the ways you loved him and needed him. The ways that he gave your life meaning.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm here," you could practically hear his voice. Not Gabriel's emotionless tone. The warmest, most loving voice you'd ever heard, full of encouragement and support. " You can't die on me now."

You pushed the dirt down and wedged your body upwards. Further and further and further.

"You're almost there," he encouraged you. "I believe in you. Only a little bit more to go. You can't give up. I need you."

You thought of all the ways he needed you, needed your company and support. Thought of the ways you held him as he was sad, and cheered with him when he was happy. He had Wayne and Rick...he had his friends...but your love...he couldn't survive without your love. He had told you in the throes of passionate worship.

"Just a little bit more, do you feel it?" he asked. "It feels a little bit lighter now. Hold your breath if you need to. Keep going for me."

What was he without you? What were you without him?

You had to live so he could.

Your hand burst through the last layer of dirt and you gasped for air greedily as you hoisted yourself up and out. You collapsed on your side and watched as the ground shifted with instability and filled in the hole you created back up, the remnants of your power still at play.

A light rain washed over you, caking the dirt to your hair and skin and clothes. Your fingertips ached, skin and nails broken from clawing your way out.

You wailed into the night.

You were broken.

And you were alone.

But you were alive.

"You made it out alive!" The boy, Dustin, grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you from your recollection. "We thought you were dead."

You briefly considered it; looking back now, that was the night everything started to change.

So yes, you had died in a way.

"Hop looked for you for days..." he continued. "Even El..."

"We saw the tunnel collapse," Steve added. "We just thought...obviously no one could survive that."

"B-but people come back from the dead...kind of all the time in Hawkins."

That gave you pause.

"What the hell does that mean?" You put your hands on your hips. "Come back from the dead?"

The two of them went back and forth, tripping over each other's words about how people seemed to be dead and then they were not, more times than they could count. Usually they were just hiding in the woods or in another country or...

Alright, that's a relief. No spontaneous resurrections. You could check that off the list.

The boys continued to chatter and Nance was clearly over it.

"Excuse me," Nance piped up. "Excuse me!"

Both boys went silent and she turned to you.

"Who are you again?" she asked suspiciously.

Mary Victoria took it upon herself to introduce you both by name and then when she didn't get an immediate response she added, "we're from the church."

You winced as a few of them laughed out loud Nance included.

"Is it always like this?" Mary Victoria asked you out of the side of her mouth.

"Pretty much," you sighed, and then turned your attention back to the crowd. "We're not from the church but we're not not from the church. It's complicated."

"What does that even mean?" someone shouted. "You're here to say prayers with us? Our own reverend did that and now he's dead."

"What church sends two girls in a beaten down shitbox of a car," another person laughed.

"Yeah, we need an army not a prayer circle!"

"We're just here to help," you explained tiredly, desperate for them to put their trust in you. "Wherever you need us. Supply runs, medical, recovery, anything."

"We don't need help," Nance spat. "And we don't trust strangers, so if you could kindly take your things and go back where you came from."

"Nancy!" Steve exclaimed. "I think they can help."

"She's been here before," Dustin tried to explain and pointed at you. "She helped us. She saved Mike."

"Fat load of good that did him, he's dead now too," Nancy lashed out and then froze and covered her mouth. The group went silent and she fidgeted under the weight of everyone's sympathetic gazes.

You saw it, for a split second as her shield went down and she desperately clawed to pick it back up. Someone young and innocent with all the hope in the world ahead of her…forced to grow up too fast and carry an immeasurable weight on her shoulders just for a little while with the promise of an ultimate prize if she could succeed…only for it to be ripped away against her will.

You saw yourself.

"I'm sorry," She said when she finally regained composure. "I...I'm sorry. That's...and we only have so many hours of daylight..."

"Hey! You're mourning," Mary Victoria piped up. You were glad she did, because you couldn’t. "You're tired. It's been a tough few days, weeks—"

"Years," Nancy sighed miserably.

"—you just need to sit for a second. Take a break. Let's...is there someplace with coffee or something? I'm not good at a lot of things, but I'm good for a shoulder to cry on and a shitty cup of coffee."

Nancy nodded and gestured a makeshift mess tent in the square where people were putting together food for the volunteers. You mouthed a quick 'thank you' to Mary Victoria as she ushered Nancy away.

You didn't miss the way she winked at you.

You didn't even need to give her a Lesson 2. She understood this was the best time to play detective.

"Alright." You looked at all the others and clapped your hands together. "How can I help then?"

They put you to work.

It was no different than anything you had done at the Mission in LA, but it felt much more purposeful. Not only because you got information in return for the help you offered, but because you would always think of Hawkins as your home.

The townspeople didn't trust you, understandably. Many of them don’t know you, and the few who recognized your face questioned why you had returned at all. They cast wary and judgmental gazes at you and when you tried to influence their thoughts of you with gentle waves of comfort, your attempts were thwarted.

They were hardened and suspicious, irreparably damaged by the nightmares they had seen, and no heavenly powers could change that.

You we’re lucky, though, that a few you did get paired with fed you enough information for you to piece together what happened over the last few years since you left, not just the past few weeks.

You packed boxes of clothes for families who had been displaced with Patty Fischer, one of your old coworkers from Bradley's. She vaguely recognized you—she'd been a cashier while you mostly stocked the floor—but she'd been glad for a friend.

Patty told you the widest array of information—loose lips and all—but the vaguest.

The StarCourt mall fire, the satanic massacres...about how a devil really had risen from the depths of the earth to destroy their town.

"All the stories were true," she sighed. "But the nightmare's almost over...we're just left with the aftermath."

You dug through rubble with Mr. Richardson. You left recovered bodies for another team to handle—to burn or bury, you didn't quite know—and took discarded weapons along to a stockpile in the square in an old wheelbarrow. You learned that his brother had been one of the victims of an accident at the Hawkins Laboratory and his niece died avenging him in the battle against Vecna.

"He had his armies, but so did we," he chuckled sadly, wiping tears from his eyes. "My niece...she gave them the fight of her life. And of course we had our hero, Jane Hopper. Shame about her and the chief. Those bats gave us a fight though."

Bats?

Mostly though, you worked with Dustin. He was eager to ask you questions—the real reason he wanted to work with you, you were sure—so you made a game of it: an answer for an answer. He started. With two questions actually:

How had you survived the tunnels and where had you gone?

And you answered him truthfully. You had crawled out...and then laid low for a while before leaving town altogether to help the next people in need.

"Who else needed help? Did you find gates to the upside down anywhere else?" he shot questions at you rapidly.

"Woah woah," you held your hands out. "Rules are rules. My turn."

"Fine," he conceded. You tilted your head and pointed at his shirt.

"Hellfire Club."

"That's...not a question," he curled in on himself defensively. "What about it?"

For both of your sakes, you knew you needed to start with...maybe a gesture of good faith...familiarity. The only thing Dustin knew about you was...well, that you could help, that he could rely on you, even if he couldn't trust you yet.

You needed to prove you were here for a reason, and not just to play some heroic game with the town's very real lives.

"I have one of those shirts." You gave him a soft smile.

"No shit!" He dropped the box in his hand and clapped his hands together. "You went to Hawkins High? You were literally under our nose this whole time?"

"No," you laughed at his enthusiasm. "Well...no. I dropped out of school before I came to Hawkins the first time around, but my boyfriend was the one who introduced me to DnD and I even played a game with them. Which is why I had a shirt."

"Who was your boyfriend? Gareth? You're his type, hero adventure girl."

"Oh my god, no. Robbing the cradle; Gareth was my little buddy. No...uh...don't know how old you are...or how taboo his name might be around here but...Eddie...Eddie Munson was my boyfriend."

It was like a record scratch; Dustin blanched and stared at you wide eyed. Like he had seen a ghost.

You suddenly felt bad.

"E-Eddie?" he repeated the name. "You were..."

"Hey, no, like I said, I'm sorry. I know he's dead...but I didn't know if people still thought..."

"No he was my friend too," he interrupted you. "He...people...I mean after...you don't understand. Nobody does, really. He...he sacrificed himself...saved a lot of people. He saved me. When...Vecna first attacked Hawkins...people blamed Eddie for killing those kids but he did whatever he could to stop Vecna from escaping the Upside Down. And the Gates still opened but...but he helped us stop Vecna."

The two of you went back and forth for a while, continuing questions and answers.

Dustin regaled you with some stories about Eddie but kept it heartfelt and funny instead of sad. You’d been surprised and a little guilty to hear that he had flunked senior year again after you left but you melted at the way Eddie never ragged on the kids for having long distance relationships when his own smoking hot girlfriend was in Chicago.

You heard about the Upside Down and Vecna, about the creatures from another dimension, Eddie's sacrifice, and the Gates that had yet to be closed.

He had the decency to avoid telling you how Eddie died, but considering everything else...you knew it wasn't peaceful. You were still grateful.

In return, you told him stories about your travels. More than you had really told Mary Victoria because he was a kid and could do with something fantastical in the midst of this tragedy. Not everything, but things you felt comfortable exposing him to.

The demon who had possessed a bride in New Orleans, the time someone had trapped a hearth deity in Cádiz and had used them to burn the homes of their enemies...

"And then someone tried to reanimate a bunch of bodies for their own..." You waved your hand to find the right words. "Underground boxing league. I don't know."

"Zombie boxing!" He was in awe, cherubic face alight with joy; it was easy to see why Eddie would have been fond of him. "That would be very cool; I would pay to see that."

"A lot of people did."

"I mean...imagine you knock someone's head off and they just keep fighting."

"In theory, ok...it sounds cool," you agreed. "But it's the means that someone uses to get there."

There was a holler from someone across the square about breaking for lunch. Perfect timing too as the smoky haze from the fissures—the Gate—began to meld together with the rolling cloud coverage of an impending storm.

Everyone around you sighed in relief and took off towards the tent. Lunch would provide a much-needed respite.

"Heard that we've got turkey sandwiches today."

"Ol' Tim's being real generous with the supplies."

"Let's just get our strength up before it's feeding time, you guys," someone piped up as they pushed past the crowd. "You don't gotta run fast...you just have to run faster than the other guy."

That seemed a little concerning though.

Your mind raced to connect the dots as you followed the others to the mess tent.

Feeding time...running...bats...the gates still open...the nightmare almost over...but not over yet...

"Dustin," you turned to your new friend as you were handed your lunch. "What...what are they talking about? Running..."

He avoided your eyes, and instead turned to look for a place to sit amongst the volunteers. You kept talking as you followed him to a small card table at the corner of the tent.

"I hit something with my car on the way into town. It was a demodog, I think. If the gates are still open, are creatures still crossing over and attacking people?"

"It's...complicated," he answered hesitantly and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Explain it to me then. Vecna's gone...do you just...have no way to close the Gates?" you asked. "Because I can—"

"No!" He shouted mid-mouthful, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "It's...it's not that. Vecna might be gone, but that's not the only danger that's in the Upside Down. You could try to close the Gates...but...but Kas would just open them back up again."

"Kas?"

You hadn't heard that name before today, you were certain, but for some reason, it seemed familiar. Scratched something in the depths of your memory that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

Your stomach churned with uneasiness.

It wasn't that you didn't like not knowing something. It was that you knew it and it evaded you. And every second you failed to remember, someone could be in danger.

"Yes," Dustin swallowed and gestured for you to eat as he wove the tale. "He was Vecna's right hand. You see, Vecna couldn't cross the Gate without his spell being complete, so he sent Kas as the general of his armies until he could. To cause as much destruction in Hawkins and try to go after our friend Max. She was the key to finishing the spell.

"Kas came from our world, just like Vecna, but the Upside Down changed him too. Vecna offered him power in exchange for his loyalty, and he let Kas control the army. When Kas crossed back into this world, he started...remembering his human life, feeling remorseful. And he betrayed Vecna."

"So he could get his life back?" you questioned.

"When the battle was over, he tried to get all of the creatures back into the Upside Down and found that...he couldn't cross back to our world himself. He's stuck there."

You really tried to understand; you had heard of transformations like this before...distantly. They mostly occurred after someone had died. If Vecna had been left to the Upside Down to die...and the Upside Down really was some living, breathing dimension, Vecna's anger was what fueled him as a vessel for this power.

But once he was gone, and Kas was left...if Kas had regained some form of his humanity...

Then why was he stuck?

"And that's all he wants?" You needed reassurance. "To get back."

"Yes."

"And he can control these creatures?"

"Yes."

"So why is he still sending them to attack Hawkins?"

Maybe Vecna's influence wasn't gone after all, maybe you were dealing with some kind of vengeful, undead spirit who didn't realize he was actually dead in the first place.

You considered ways to deal with the undead. Burning their bones, some kind of exorcism-adjacent rite, banishing them altogether...

You could do this. You could handle it and close the gates and then Hawkins would be safe again.

"Because he's hungry," Dustin finally answered, his words weighing down upon him so much that his shoulders sagged as he said them.

Your stomach dropped and your body went cold with dread.

"Excuse me?"

You didn't mean to sound as grave as you did but...hungry?

The two of you had just been talking about zombies and reanimated corpses and all manner of creatures. He didn't think to bring this up before?

"Ope, I think Steve's calling me!" He ignored you and started to stand from the table. You were hot on his heels and grabbed his wrist to stop him. Everyone left in the tent still eating stopped their chatter to watch the spectacle.

"Dustin, what do you mean hungry?" Your eyes darted back and forth between his, willing him to tell you the truth. "What is Kas?"

Someone screamed from outside the confines of the tent and you both jumped in surprise.

“Everybody inside! Go! Run!"

The other volunteers who had been resting immediately got to their feet and began to flee; tables and chairs were tipped over, plates and food discarded, abandoned, and squished underfoot.

"We need to go!" Dustin grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the tent into the chaos that had erupted in the square.

It was a cacophony of noise; people running and screaming, hiding.

"Arm yourselves!"

"Hide the children."

"Run, run!"

You dismissed it at first, the looming grey storm cloud in your peripheral vision, as you were dragged and Dustin spoke a mile a minute about finding Steve and Nancy and getting people to safety.

Then the cloud got closer.

And you realized it wasn't a cloud at all, wasn't a storm.

It was a swarm.

You stopped in your tracks and watched, for the briefest of seconds, all while Dustin yelled at you. A hundred bats led by three massive anthropomorphic winged creatures with sallow skin and claws. Even from this distance you could see the way their jaws opened unnaturally wide and revealed mouthfuls of razor-sharp fangs.

"What the hell is she doing just standing there?" Steve's voice reached your ears. You glanced back to see that he held a baseball bat with nails pierced through the wood at the end, while he handed Dustin a makeshift spear.

They weren't planning to run, they were planning to fight.

Alright. You could fight.

"What's going on?" Mary Victoria skidded to a stop by your side, out of breath from wherever she had been. "People started running, no one told me what was going on...and what the fuck is that?"

Mary Victoria, however, could not. And you were not gonna get your new friend killed right off the bat.

"Demobats," Steven and Dustin said in tandem.

"Vampires," you corrected them. "At least the big three are."

"Vampi—are you kidding me?" she huffed a breath of disbelief. "I said! I said vampires when we were in the car. Does this mean I'm psychic then? Is that my power or—"

"Now might not be the time to debate about that, Mare," you argued. You pulled the car keys out of your jacket pocket and slapped them into the palm of her hand. "Go to the car. There's a knife in the glovebox; lock yourself in."

"But I can help," she protested. "I can get the knife and stab some bats. How hard could it be?"

"Trust me, these suckers are hard to kill," Steve told her. "Leave it to the experts."

"Experts? It looks like you made these things in your garage," Mary Victoria scoffed. "Come on! I can help!"

As you watched them bicker back and forth, you failed to sense the imminent arrival of the attackers. Your eyes didn't sweep over the square quick enough to see the first of the bats—the ones most eager to feed—divebomb and begin their assault.

A resonating BOOM sounded off behind you and you swiveled on your toes to find a very ticked-off looking Nancy with a sawed-off shotgun in hand, muzzle smoking; she quickly reloaded and took a few pot shots at bats as they flew past in search of prey.

She turned, aimed directly past you and shot one out of the air as it was about to take a swipe at Steve, who had the good sense to duck before he got his head blown off too.

"What are you doing just standing here?" she yelled and cocked the shotgun. "Run. Hide. Fight. Do something before you get yourselves killed!"

Dustin and Steve ran into action, as well as several other volunteers who decided to take the defensive approach. And as the vampires and the remaining swarm of bats descended on the square, you snapped at Mary Victoria and then pointed at your car in the distance.

"Go!"

"Fine!" she scoffed. "But where are you gonna go? You don't have a weapon!"

"I am a weapon!" you shouted as you bolted down the street.

This wasn't the first time you'd fought an onslaught like this. Maybe not exactly like this but...close enough. You were pretty handy at throwing a punch, and it had been useful once or twice in a pinch, but that didn't help unless something was already on top of you. Your first actual experience in a fight had been an infestation of disgusting infernal spider-like things that had decimated a small town in West Virginia. Like something out of Tolkien's wicked imagination. You had used your abilities to draw fire from the core of the earth to burn their nests.

You had wondered then if Eddie would have been proud of you; you hated spiders, he always had to kill them for you. You couldn’t even stand to listen to him read about them in the Hobbit.

This would be a little trickier. Your adversaries were aerial, and even if they got low enough for you to strike, there were too many innocents in the area for you to do anything useful.

The vampires themselves would be the worst to deal with though; there were only so many ways you could weaken them, let alone try to kill them. Which would be ideal.

How could they conveniently leave out the fact that vampires plagued the town?

Shy of spending the time to dig through your trunk for maybe your grandfather's revolver and maybe a wooden bullet or two, you were left to rely on something a little less conventional here. The wheelbarrow full of discarded weapons was still beside the recovery area and you immediately skidded to a stop beside it to search for something suitable.

There were handguns without bullets, a few makeshift weapons like a machete made of a broken, sharpened street sign, which probably wouldn't help unless you got close enough to decapitate one of the vampires.

Because the bats might be a nuisance, but the real goal here was to take out those vampires.

You snagged a pocket knife from the bottom of the wheelbarrow then—

"Bingo!"

—you came across a dingy old crossbow and a hip quiver full of wooden bolts.

Not a stake, but good enough in a pinch.

"How many times in a girl's life can she be grateful for a small town hunter and their cache of crazy weapons," you asked out loud as you loaded a bolt into place.

Surveying the square, it was easy to tell this was not the townspeople's first rodeo; there were several bats down already, Dustin and Steve were back to back, only separating when something swooped at them, an array of people with slingshots and even an older woman with firecrackers and a wicked throwing arm.

You were grateful to find that Mary Victoria had barricaded herself in your car, especially once you saw small clusters of bats feeding on the bodies of those who were either too slow, too sure of themselves, or simply didn't have luck on their side.

Nancy, however, tried to play savior.

She ran to the aid of one of the downed bodies and used the butt of her shotgun to dislodge a few bats before shooting a few others. She knelt at the person's side and tried to offer some kind of aid—find a pulse or staunch the bleeding—but you knew it was too late.

Her gallantry made her lose focus and awareness of her surroundings. You felt it though, the tremor in the air around you as powerful wings beat several times. Heard the lustful, hungry breaths and the clacking of teeth that begged to sink into flesh for a meal most decadent.

You trusted your instinct; you took a breath to center yourself, pivoted on one leg, and pulled the trigger. The bolt soared true and pierced through the wing of the vampire. The unholy screech that echoed from its mouth as the pointed tip ripped through fragile skin and blood vessels was ear-splitting, as was the resounding crash as it lost velocity and skidded upon impact with the ground, spraying everything in the vicinity with dirt and gravel and chunks of dead grass.

You knew it was beginner's luck, and somehow still not good enough; you also knew you weren't gonna get another chance quite like it again. Especially as the massive creature recovered and turned its sights on you.

There was a moment as your eyes met and the vampire stilled unsettlingly. You willed yourself to break eye contact with their pure-black sclera and roam over their form.

Cascading locks of burnished gold hair, a demonic face with distinctly feminine and otherwise sweet features. Its skin was sickly pale, and unnaturally elongated bones practically protruded from the stretched dermis, with clawed hands and talons for feet. Modesty protected by strange garments made of a leathery hide and...the tattered remains of a cheerleading uniform.

Fear rarely got a hold of you anymore. Not like it used to. You'd stared in the face of danger many times and lived to tell the tale. To say that you were immune to it was incorrect; you simply didn't have time to panic right now. You could break down later, when the realization of how close you came to your own demise hit you; you always did.

Still, a lump formed in your throat as you observed the vampire. As it extended its wings, its injured skin stitched itself back together unnaturally, and it gave a few experimental flaps to ensure it was healed enough to fly.

It licked its lips enticingly and shot you a feral smile with its massive, razor sharp fangs proudly on display, and then rocketed back into the sky.

"Fuck," you hissed.

That was the look of something that viewed you as a threat and accepted the challenge.

That was not good.

“I had it handled,” Nancy scowled at you as she got to her feet.

“That’s a funny way to say thank you,” you quickly recovered and told her matter-of-factly, which earned an even more scathing expression as she reloaded her shotgun. "You need to know when something's a lost cause. If they're already on the ground being fed upon, it's too late."

"It's never too late," Nancy scoffed. "If I took that approach, my friends would have been dead ten times over already. Even if it's futile, I still need to try."

You glanced past her and loaded another bolt into the crossbow as quickly as you could, before aiming past her to fire at an incoming bat. Although you were aiming for its wing, trying to achieve something similar to what you did to the vampire—because at least the bats stayed down when you injured them enough—the bolt pierced through the mouth of the bat and tore through the back of its head, killing it instantly.

God damn, ok you really weren't great at this.

"At least trust someone to watch your back," you told her in the interim.

She reluctantly nodded and the two of you attempted to work in tandem.

You covered each other as you reload your weapons, communicated constantly about what you saw and didn't see. It was a little clumsy, sure, but you still were able to keep yourselves and others safe as they ran for cover.

At first the swarm focused on the sparse group of people who were out in the open—the vampires created distractions so the bats had the opportunity to strike by ripping doors and shutters off their hinges, overturning parked cars with the strong grip of their talons—but the opportunity to feed became too sporadic. They'd already picked off the weaker few and lost a significant number to the defense efforts.

You thought that it would be the opportunity for them to turn their attention to the skeletal buildings and every other nook and cranny that their feast might have hid.

Instead, they seemed to vanish.

The square was suddenly silent, bats and vampires nowhere to be seen. The sky was still hazy and swirling with storm clouds and smoke alike, but not one adversary darting across the ominous grey canvas.

Not even a single screeching cry or flap of wings to alert you to their possible presence.

"Did they leave?" you asked Nancy. It wasn't over...you knew it wasn't over...but wishful thinking and all.

Maybe something nice could happen for once in your life.

"No..." she narrowed her eyes and did a quick strafe to check behind you. "No, they're too hungry. They haven't attacked in an entire day, which was why we thought it would be safe to come and do cleanup."

People started emerging from their hiding spots and Steve yelled at them to get back inside.

"The square is pretty defensible," she continued. "Especially after the battle with Vecna. But they have a hive mind. They can communicate with one another. Even if a swarm is slaughtered, the entire legion of beasts waiting in the Upside Down experiences it through the connection. They know our tactics, which means they get crafty when they're ready to feed again."

"If there's a legion in the Upside Down, maybe they're waiting for backup." It was an easy assumption for you to make.

"No, it would take too long. Their best bet is to regroup, lure us into a false sense of security, then attack again."

"So they're coming up with a plan," you muttered. "And I'm sure Kas is a master strategist."

Nancy's expression immediately morphed into one of confusion.

"Wh-what did you say?" Nancy stuttered. "Did...did you just say Kas?"

You started to answer when a sharp, burning pain tore through your shoulders. You dropped the crossbow at the unexpected jerk of your body as you became airborne.

You watched as the distance between you and the ground rapidly increased and the people in the square below were immediately besieged by bats and vampires alike. You turned your head upwards and saw the vampire you had injured just minutes ago carrying you up and up and up.

She looked down at you and laughed wickedly, tightening her talons painfully as she did so. She spat and hissed at you through her fangs.

"Don't you want to fly angel?" she cackled and flapped her wings harder.

Panic shot through you; there was nothing around, nothing to ground you, and the pain that ripped through you was distracting enough to prevent you from focusing on your power.

Then you remembered the pocket knife that you had stashed away, and you strained your arms to shove your hand into your jacket to grab it.

You cried out as you flipped it open and reached up to rapidly slash at your captors ankles. An otherworldly monster, sure, but an achilles tendon was still a weak point that hurt like a bitch when sliced clean.

One talon released its hold on you, then the other, and then you were in free fall.

You briefly thought that the cushion of air, the weightlessness of it, was nice.

Freeing.

But it wasn't a long fall and the earth caught up with you quickly, and when you did impact the ground, it wasn't the ground at all; it was the hood of your car.

The already-cracked windshield fully shattered and the jagged edges of glass cut through your clothes and into your flesh. Mary Victoria screamed as all the wind was knocked out of you and it took a second for you to get it back.

"Are you fucking with me right now?" She got out of the car and yelled at you. "Wait in the car Mare! It's safe in the car! Bull! Shit! Oh god, oh god, you're bleeding!"

"I'm fine," you groaned.

You were not. You were hurt and you were pissed off.

"Fucking vampires in fucking Hawkins and no one says anything and I let my guard down for two god damn minutes," you grumbled to yourself as you slid off the hood and got back on your feet.

"Do you have a first aid kit in the trunk or something with all of that other shit?" She immediately went to the back of the car to search for something.

You did a quick assessment of yourself as you stood there; something in your leg twinged and you felt...maybe a little sloshy inside. Ok you could deal with that. But you bit your tongue on impact, and that was...probably the most annoying thing.

The icing on the cake.

"Don't worry," you insisted. "As long as everything important is still inside of me, I'll heal."

"Heal?!" She peeked out from behind the propped trunk lid. "Excuse me, what do you mean?"

"Blah blah, heavenly light, blah. Were you not paying attention to anything I said during the drive?"

"Yeah but I thought you meant other people, not yourself. How long will it take because there's still vampires flying around if you didn't notice," she gestured outwards. "They kinda need you at your best here."

"Even my worst is better than nothing." You joined her at the trunk and grabbed one of the knives.

"Not a crucifix?"

"Not gonna work unless they look directly at it for an extended time," you explained. "Which is kinda hard with them flying around. So we either stake them through the heart, or we cut it out of them."

Mary Victoria nodded and held onto her own knife a little tighter with a quick "ok I can do that, I think."

"Stay close to me," you commanded. "I'll keep you safe but...I might need you to help me keep them down while I do the dirty work."

Mary Victoria bit her lip but agreed.

You rushed back to where you had been taken—Nancy was nowhere to be found and you momentarily applauded her for listening to you and recognizing that you were a lost cause. The crossbow, thankfully, wasn't broken, but your impact with the car did break some of the remaining bolts you had in the hip quiver.

That just meant you'd have to make the last few shots count.

If you were able to hit the vampires wings like you did with the first one, you would be able to strike...you just had to get them on the ground and then—

"Ok this is dangerous and all," Mary Victoria muttered beside you, as though speaking in any tone above a whisper would alert the swarm to your presence. As if you weren't standing in a wide open space. "But this is actually really cool."

"What?" You shot her an incredulous look.

"I mean don't get me wrong, I'm...quite possibly shitting myself right now, but—"

"You have the worst timing known to man," you told her earnestly.

"I get that a lot," she nodded. "Is it always like this?"

You noticed movement behind her and pushed her behind you so you could strike; one bolt took out two demo bats.

"Pretty much."

"Do you think that Steve guy thought I was cute?"

You turned to give her the most scathing look, the words shut up Mare right on the tip of your tongue. But when you turned, she was grabbed.

One of the vampires—one with dark curls piled high on its head—did a nosedive and tackled her to the ground. The two of them skidded on the pavement and Mary Victoria squirmed desperately to get out of its grasp.

A serpentine tongue slithered out of the vampire's mouth and swept down Mary Victoria's face and neck, and she let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed over the ruins around Hawkins Town Square.

The vampire, though, countered with a hiss-like laugh, and something deep inside of you burned. It wanted to play with its food, wanted to laugh? You would give it something to laugh about.

You quickly reloaded a bolt into the crossbow and fired—any shot good enough to draw attention away from your friend and onto you—and the arrow embedded itself deep in the flesh beneath the shoulder joint of its wing. The vampire jolted from the force and thick, black blood began oozing from the wound.

It rounded its attention on you then, Mary Victoria still pinned beneath its legs, and roared ferociously. Its fangs were disstended, dripping blood and spraying spittle, as the guttural sound burst from the gaping maw. It's jaw...wasn't even unhinged, the way it hung; it was practically detached, the weight of it pulled at the weak, stretched flesh of its cheeks.

As if it could scare you with sounds and sights alone.

Pathetic.

You should have paid closer attention.

Should have used the divine sense that was natural to you to feel the approaching danger.

Should have just been a little smarter than Kas—who no doubt was gunning for you now that he knew you'd be a thorn in his side—and recognize a trap when you were in one.

Claws grasped your still-wounded shoulders and sharp teeth sunk deep into your neck. One of the hands moved to your jaw and held it with an iron grip. It tilted your head in a way that would give it easy access to its meal as it pulled mouthful after mouthful of your life-force from you.

Your vision blurred—already affected by the previous injuries and blood loss—and you knew you didn't have long before you succumbed to the effects of being drained.

You breathed heavily and fumbled with the knife that had been tucked into the hip quiver along with the half-broken crossbow bolts. You stabbed at the hand gripping your chin; the blade broke through fragile metacarpals and tore through the other side, through its palm, and grazed your chin.

The vampire released its grip on you and its teeth retracted from your neck as it howled in pain. You took advantage of the release to spin and drive one of the splintered bolts deep into its chest, right into its heart.

You watched with sick, victorious fascination, at the way the mottled, paper-like skin gave way with the force of your strike. The muscle and sinew tore and as the wood pierced the most-vital organ, it burst in the most satisfying way. A gush of blood, both pitch black and vibrant red, sticky grey mucus, and sickly green bile.

You'd never heard of a vampire doing that before when it was staked.

As the vampire's body crumpled and folded in on itself and collapsed at your feet, the air began to ripple with cries. Infernal, unholy screeching reverberated around you as the vampires and bats alike felt the death of their brethren. The vampire that had attacked Mary Victoria practically howled.

The overwhelming beat of wings began to sound off and you watched as the swarm regrouped over the square. The residents of Hawkins—both the ones who had been defending against the swarm and the ones who had gone into hiding—began to filter back out into the open and your heart was in your throat.

Because if this was their opportunity for the creatures of the Upside Down to avenge their friend, it would be a massacre.

You mentally prepared yourself for the attack, body weak but still able to channel any available power into some kind of defensive wave that could burn through them all if necessary.

Instead they dove in a funnel formation, straight for the Gate.

You felt the pulse of otherworldly energy that was released into Hawkins as they ripped through the membrane that separated the two worlds, and you were blindsided by a sense of longing that surged through it.

Yearning...desire...hunger.

You were confused; it was so strong. Overwhelming, even.

Was that Kas?

Or the Upside Down itself?

As soon as the last bat crossed over and the membrane sealed, the feeling was gone, and the only thing you felt was a bone-deep weariness and the pain that coursed through you.

You finally succumbed to the effects of your injuries and sank to your knees weakly. You had no choice but to stare deeply into the blank eyes of the vampire.

Mary Victoria called your name and got louder and louder until she was at your side. Her hand grasped the bite on your neck and held it steady to stop the bleeding. Dustin appeared on your other side and asked if you were ok or if the bite would turn you into a vampire...

"You're the only one who's been bitten and lived."

Except...you truly wondered if this even was a vampire.

The body was both...bloated and emaciated all at once, limbs bulging and elongated with skin that pulled and stretched over fragile tissue and bones. Its ribcage practically protruded outwards, like it had been pried open at some point and then the skin knitted itself shut atop it.

The hair was the only vibrant—the most alive—thing about the creature. Short red curls that had been tousled in the wind.

Aside from the strength while it was still...alive, if you could call it that, and the thirst for blood...you didn't know for sure that you could call this thing a vampire. It wasn't like anything you'd read or heard about from the other Knights.

It wasn't quite like the other two vampires though either.

"What is it then?" you asked yourself out loud.

Mary Victoria shushed you and told you to keep your strength, but you could already feel yourself healing.

Other voices began to overlap hers though.

"She killed one!"

"He'll send them in droves now that one of his brides is dead."

"At least we stood a chance before."

"Enough!" Nancy shouted and the group went silent. "That's enough!"

"I don't understand, isn't killing one of them a good thing?" Mary Victoria questioned.

"Uh, you'd think so," Steve piped up. "But...no one's killed one of the Brides before."

"It's not one of the Brides," Nancy yelled at him and crouched in front of you, on the other side of the body. She looked at it with soft, sad, practically heartbroken eyes. "It's Barb."

“If you've been through hell on earth. You would understand that the people you see are more dangerous than the devil you haven't met.” - Ojingiri Hannah

Next Chapter: Crucible

#Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson x oc #aasb #tw: death #tw: injury #tw: violence #tw: grief #tw: gore

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 1: Illumination

Previous Chapter: Prologue - Annunciation

Summary: You embark on a long journey and you face the ghosts of your past.

Word Count: 10k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Mentions of Death and Injury, Mention of Suicide, Established Relationship, Romance, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Difficult Family Relationships, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: As we start getting into the meat of the story, I would like to remind everyone to read the Prequels. Especially Purgatory as we will be stepping in right where Purgatory left off.

The categorization for this story is also no longer xReader, but xOC; however, I will still be writing from the same POV and I will still be vague about our Knight's physical characteristics and name. Please see either the Prologue for the note about her background to set the expectation for yourself before you begin to read the this chapter as we will be getting further details of her origins.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” — Christopher Reeve

October 5th, 1987

Don't be afraid.

You waited restlessly in what could only be described as a receiving line as a black car pulled up and a figure in red emerged from the back.

Don't back down.

With every step he took, another person shook his hand, bowed to kiss his signet ring in respect, and you could feel your resolve begin to crumble.

Don't show weakness.

Finally, he made it to you.

There was no real greeting, no pleasantries. He could put on a show, but it wasn't hard to detect everything rotten beneath the surface.

The newly-appointed Cardinal Jinette had no fondness for you.

"It's good to see you being useful in a time of need," he greeted backhandedly.

Nor did you have any for him.

"I'm only meant to do as I'm told, isn't that right?" you countered trying to hold back the venom in your voice.

He held his hand out and you shook it, but avoided the show of respect. You didn't even look at his ring. He wasn't entitled to it. You gripped his hand tighter as he tried to move on from you.

"We need to talk."

The serene expression that he had schooled himself to give turned hard and impatient, and he reluctantly motioned for you to follow him as he continued down the line.

As he led a prayer for the congregants, you reflected and prepared yourself for the battle ahead.

It had been a few days since the earthquake rocked Los Angeles; countless buildings were damaged and destroyed. The death toll was low, but the number of people injured and missing got higher by the day. The church, of course, became a beacon of hope and refuge as it usually did. People flocked, people prayed and lit candles, they begged God for mercy.

So one would think that you, acting on behalf of the church—on behalf of God—would be put to use in the best of ways. To heal, and fix, for once, instead of strike and destroy.

You had been eager for it, craved it.

But for someone like you there was a line that couldn't be crossed. Rules that couldn't be broken. And when you had shown up at the cathedral amidst chaos after returning to the city from your hike, you had been told to stay out of the way. To let the people who could help in a meaningful way do so.

There would be no healing, no peace, no comfort for those afflicted by tragedy.

"An act of God," Jinette began, because there could be no other explanation. "An act of God requires no miracles; there is nothing to fix."

Miracles?

Was that what he thought they were?

Your nonna always told you that you were destined for miracles. It was in your blood. You'd follow in your father's footsteps and your grandfathers. Save the world from darkness through miracles.

Your father would laugh, though, as he packed his bag to leave on yet another mission for a God that damned him. You'd sit, too young to truly understand her hopeful devotion and his cynicism, and ask what Nonna meant. What miracles he was going to perform.

"Miracles are for Saints. Not for us."

You could have put up a fight. You should have. You should have pushed to make a difference and end someone's suffering but Jinette knew what buttons to press to get you to back down.

Especially since you carried the guilt that the earthquake was your fault in the first place.

Jinette sent you away to a place where he didn't need to look at you, where you could make the least amount of noise.

If only he knew the irony in his choice: the Misión San Gabriel Arcángel.

You swore you heard Gabriel's stiff, judgmental hum as you stepped through the gates. A warning that he could watch you here...watch you anywhere. A reminder that the clock was ticking and fate was waiting.

You helped with disaster relief efforts for days. Walked through the neighborhood passing out food and water, helped set up shelter in the rectory building, and prepared care packages.

Some of the historic buildings on the property had sustained damage in the quake; plaster gave way to show concerning cracks in the adobe below. So you volunteered to go into the chapel to survey the integrity of the building and see if it could be used to safely shelter people who had been displaced from their homes. If an aftershock occurred and the building collapsed, you could get yourself out when others could not.

You had done it before, after all.

However, the most important task you undertook was answering the rectory phone, and it was the reason your eyes burned a hole through the back of Jinette's skull.

He said his final amen, offered some additional handshakes, and then turned on his heel and started towards the cemetery on the grounds. You were quick to follow.

There was an uneasiness that filled you as you stepped past the cemetery gates and onto the grass, an unsettling energy. Not aimed towards you...but at Jinette...

You had always been receptive to the dead, but it had never manifested like this before.

It was a Mission, after all. What else did you expect?

"So," Jinette began and sat on one of the small stone benches. "What have you done now?"

"W-what have I done?" you choked on your words. You shouldn't have been surprised by his dismissal of you. "Why would you assume it's something I've done?"

"Because it's the truth of your soul, child. You sin again and again, you ask for penance, you're sent on another task to find it."

How dare he speak of penance. How dare he set foot on their graves. How dare he disturb their rest. How dare he talk about miracles and healing and peace and sin and forgiveness.

Thoughts bubbled up inside of you like heartburn and fed on your internalized wrath. Thoughts that were not your own.

You pushed them back and tried to focus on the task at hand. You wouldn't get anywhere if you weren't careful.

"I haven't done anything..." you explained. "Yet."

"Ah, you see?" He smirked and clapped his hands, triumphant that his assumption was correct.

"I need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Father Arnold had me on the phones yesterday," you began your explanation. "People calling for supplies, to help arrange funerals...standard calls you might expect in this circumstance. But there was one call that...was interesting...concerning.

"Someone from the Geological Survey. Calling to let us know that someone would be out, to the mission specifically...to survey some kind of fault line that might have contributed to the damage. I'm not entirely sure; my father made sure I knew scriptures not science. What was interesting, though, was that he said this earthquake wasn't the only one that happened on Thursday.

"There was another one. Several, in fact, In Indiana. Hawkins. And that—”

Jinette's laughter cut you off and your stomach turned. You could hear the hissing at the back of your mind as the spirits grew restless once again.

"That's what this is about?" he asked incredulously. "Your...silly fascination with Hawkins?"

"It's not a fascination."

"Obsession. With that boy."

"It isn't about Eddie," you scoffed. "Hawkins was already the sight of an atrocity. The...the monsters...the portal...I told you all about it. What if this is related?"

"You didn't seem to think the last earthquake was an atrocity."

No, you hadn't thought so.

There hadn't been a reason for you to think otherwise.

Your thoughts were only on Eddie, not Hawkins. Who cared about the town when he was gone? When he waited for you? Your focus and determination was to undo the curse so you could be with him. More determined than your predecessors ever had been, surely, to reach the ultimate prize.

Love. Forgiveness. Salvation. Rest.

You toed the line between life and death countless times over the past 18 months, you never declined a mission. You became the mindless sword you were destined to be...and it still wasn't enough.

The weariness you had felt before Eddie's death had only increased tenfold. There seemed to be no end in sight.

Then the Earth below Hawkins shook and cracked and split open once again. For 7 days it had been rumbling with some frequency, unexplained.

But there were no such things as coincidences. For Gabriel to show his face here, after something happened in Hawkins again...

"I've changed my mind," you finally answered. "It must have been related. Something infernal. I have a gut feeling, I have to follow it."

"There's a proclivity to temptation in your blood. You know this."

How dare he speak of temptation. Ask about his temptation. Ask him what he did to earn the scarlet robe. He's hungry for power. Power over you.

"It isn't temptation," you argued. "It's a genuine concern. We should at least investigate."

"Have you tried calling? Any of your friends in Hawkins? Called anybody?"

"I have. The phone lines are down. Everywhere. Even the Pizza Parlor. Hawkins went dark...over a week ago it seems."

"Because of the earthquake. There is nothing nefarious there."

"But what if it is? If you're not going to let me go, ask someone else," you begged. "We can contact the Order. It wouldn't hurt to ask."

The two of you talked over one another to convince each other to see reason. You knew you needed to go, and Jinette was desperate for you to stay.

"You have no connection to Hawkins anymore," Jinette raised his voice and stomped his foot down in finality as he rose from the bench.

The anger bubbled up inside you once again and your throat tightened, the hissing of the spirits just as loud in your ear as Jinette’s.

Tell him. Tell him that a power greater than him demands your presence.

"Your little...boyfriend is dead. You have work to do elsewhere. You're better off doing work here, helping people here."

Tell him his rotten little existence is eclipsed by the majesty that awaits you.

“Instead of playing into your little fantasy where you can make up for being unable to save him.”

Tell him to go to Hell and then let us drag him there.

You let out a screech for them to shut up, all of them. Your voice echoed through the cemetery, bounced off headstones and monuments and columbariums.

Then the ground began to violently shake.

You began to shake.

You trembled with fury at a frequency that easily penetrated the earth and rippled out from you.

Jinette lost his balance and fell back on the bench as he stared at you in shock. Frantic shouts could be heard from beyond the walls that enclosed the graveyard. Cars beeped and crashed on the road as drivers lost control.

Across from the mission was the Civic Theater; it was another historic monument in devotion to your Guardian, with three bell towers situated proudly atop it. As the tremors increased, the bells started to sway. The distressed ringing emulated screams and cries for help as the adobe began to crack and give way around them.

“Please,” they seemed to beg in harmony. “We are innocent.”

But their cries fell on unsympathetic ears, and you watched with a dark, sick glee as one of the bell towers broke and crashed through the roof into the auditorium below.

You knew no one was hurt. You could feel it.

But Jinette did not.

"Stop this, stop! Enough" He shouted, pleaded. You recentered yourself and the tremors stopped.

“What have you done?” He asked in disgust. “What have you done?! You’re meant to save the innocent, protect them. You’re a monster!”

You quickly closed the distance between you and he flinched.

“If I’m a monster, it is because you made me one Father,” you hissed at him.

“Then may God find the mercy to save you,” he whispered.

"God isn’t going to save me. I’m going to save myself.”

October 7th, 1987

It was unfair to say that you didn't have any supporters within the church; there were a few people who could even be considered as having a fondness for you. A handful of nuns, the old priest at the parish back home, maybe maybe the Pope if you were really pushing it; he remembered your name once.

The other members of the Holy Order itself...well that was complicated.

However, as soon as you effectively burned bridges with Jinette, the number dwindled even further. And it was evident as you set foot on the grounds of the cathedral to collect your things.

You had only grabbed the bare minimum to go to the Mission on Jinette's orders and the rest had been stored away in some spare room in the rectory. But no matter who you asked, you never got a straight answer.

"The Cardinal had us put your things in storage."

"Your bags? We were told they were to be donated."

"Are you sure you didn't bring them along with you? Maybe a prayer to St. Anthony if you've misplaced them."

One of the nuns who usually had a sweet smile and prayer for you even made the sign of the cross as you went to ask for her help.

You stared at her in shock as she scurried away from you as quickly as she could. You covered your face and groaned.

You shouldn't have done what you did, you knew it...it was just...enough was enough. And you couldn't undo it now. You just...you knew you needed to get to Hawkins, desperately, and if Jinette wasn't going to loosen your leash enough to let you go, after you destroyed yourself for the church—for him—you knew you needed to break free.

But you also needed more than a dirty change of clothes and the handful of bills you had tucked into the glovebox of your car.

"UGH! For fuck's sak--"

"Sorry, did you need help?" a soft voice interrupted you, and as you peeled your hands away to see who the newcomer was, you found yourself vaguely remembering the woman. "Oh, it's you."

She looked different from the last time—the only time—you saw her. She had a coif and veil covering her hair now, and a maroon apron over her blouse and skirt. Not a nun yet, still a novice.

"Mary...Victoria, right?" you recalled. She smiled and nodded, then glanced to the sides.

"I, uh, don't think you're really welcome here anymore," she whispered conspiratorially. "The Cardinal is...really mad; he might have...banned you from the Cathedral."

"Tell me something I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I just need to get my stuff. I'm making a run for it."

"Oh?" Her eyes brightened. "Where are you going? Official Knight's Business?"

"Less official and more..." You took a breath and tried to find the right words.

She had already been kinder to you than anyone else you'd come across, and could potentially get herself into trouble just for talking to you. It was strange, though, how clearly you remembered the mischief in her when you met.

"...more the exact reason I'm banned from the cathedral in the first place."

Mary Victoria laughed wickedly and nodded.

"Quick getaway, got it. I've been kinda looking for one of those myself."

She was?

She motioned for you to follow her and she led you through the maze of hallways in the rectory to a room that only a select few would see: the sacristy.

It was the room where the priests would prepare for mass, and especially now that Jinette was a Cardinal, it held a larger array of vestments and vessels. Atop a cabinet in the middle of the room was a white cassock and stole...and your duffel bag, the contents of which had been spread out along the cabinet, obviously rifled through.

Mary Victoria quickly tried to make some sort of excuse, that the Cardinal was just taking a tally of your things, maybe to return everything to you...but you both knew she was just doing it to spare your feelings.

Jinette was never intending to return your things.

You wondered, as you scoffed and shoved your clothes and books back into the bag, how many times this had been done before. By how many "well-meaning" priests and bishops and cardinals. They never took anything—they might have been assholes but they never broke a commandment...besides you would have noticed—but it still made you feel...less than.

Could you be surprised though? Over the years it had been made obvious to you that you weren't...a real person in the church's eyes. Especially to those like Jinette. Thus, the things that belonged to you...weren't really yours either. You were not allowed nice things, not allowed a life.

You hoisted your bag over your shoulder and the two of you made a quick getaway out of the rectory.

Mary Victoria hesitantly asked questions as you walked to fill the silence—where you were going, what you were planning to do when you got there—and you wanted to answer her as truthfully as possible, but you didn't really know what would be waiting for you in Hawkins.

"I'm sorry." She sighed and shook her head when you took a little longer to answer. "I know you can't say much."

"No it's not that," you tried to explain, but she continued.

"The first time I heard about the Order, I just thought it sounded so interesting. Fighting against evil, like something in a movie. But then we weren't allowed to ask any questions. We were told to avoid you unless you needed assistance. That's it. Not who you were or what you did or how to become one."

That was another surprise.

"You want to...be a Knight of the Holy Order?"

"I mean I gue—"

"Sister!" a stern voice echoed from behind you and the two of you stopped in your tracks. Mary Victoria suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Mother Superior!" Mary Victoria greeted the older woman in shock. "I was just showing my friend here the way to the exit."

You recognized her. For most of your acquaintance, she had been Sister Kathleen; she was a severe woman and incredibly devout. She'd come to Los Angeles from Chicago, which is where you met her, once upon a time. She had known you for longer than she would probably ever admit, and disliked you for just as long.

She had been your kindergarten teacher.

What had taken her from teaching children to running an abbey...well that was between Kathleen and God, but somewhere deep down, you liked to think it was because of you. She was not the kindest woman, and you weren't like all of the other children under her care.

You were young and not in control of your abilities yet, but you suppose that was just your Mother's excuse for the number of fires that had been started...one for each of the lies that Kathleen had told.

Because of this Kathleen, much like Jinette, had never been your biggest fan, and it was made obvious as she pushed between you and Mary Victoria, as if to form a barrier. She narrowed her eyes at you in distrust, but you just smiled innocently.

You were leaving; what more could she want?

"I think she can find her own way out," Kathleen concluded sharply. "Mass is starting shortly; we shouldn't be late."

"Oh but, we were discussing the Holy Order," Mary Victoria explained. "About her next mission."

"How many times have you been told to leave the Knights alone, Sister," Kathleen hissed at her, then her eyes slid to you. "Especially this one. Now, we must go."

Mary Victoria nodded solemnly, and followed after Kathleen without another word.

It didn't take much effort for you to reach out and feel the despair within her. You didn't know much about Mary Victoria—you didn't know anything—but it felt as though she was a candle that was slowly being snuffed out. Fighting, desperate for life, for light...unable to do anything but suffocate.

How many times had you felt that way over the years?

You made your way out of the cathedral, threw your things in the backseat, and got situated, ready to begin your journey. But the entire time, as you started your car and you dug through your glovebox to find a tape, your thoughts were occupied by Mary Victoria.

She wasn't a friend, she was a stranger. Someone who you met twice, briefly, in this long, unending nightmare that was your life.

She was also someone who helped you, twice, even if she didn't have to.

But that was a part of her vow, part of her becoming a nun...wasn't it? Helping people in need. She chose to be in this situation, chose to do good.

By that same logic, wasn't that part of your deal as well? Part of your vow, part of your curse?

You could have chosen to live the life you wanted. To indulge in freedom and happiness like every other person on the planet and to choose free will. Plenty of your predecessors had done it. But you chose to keep playing this game. Chose to keep fighting evil and helping people, even if the way you helped them...really only did more harm than good sometimes.

You didn't owe her anything.

But what did people owe one another, other than kindness and consideration and respect.

She was being snuffed out, and if you didn't help her...who else would?

"Fuck it!" You yanked your key out of the ignition, jumped out of the car, and then ran back into the cathedral.

You dipped your hand into the holy water and did a vague sign of the cross as you walked into the chapel and beelined straight for the group of nuns at the front. Mary Victoria was sitting beside Mother Kathleen in the middle of the group. You knelt at the end of their pew and whispered to her.

"Psst, Mare? Hey Mare!" She went wide-eyed at the sight of you; all of the nuns did, actually, and Mother Kathleen's face puffed with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded but you ignored her. You were on a mission.

A side quest, Eddie would have called it. Save a damsel in distress before going on your mission. Like Taran saved Eilonwy on his quest to find Hen Wen.

"Do you wanna be a Knight?" You kept your focus on Mary Victoria.

"This is blasphemous!"

"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria hissed fearfully in question. The other nuns and novitiates also cowered at the anger of their leader.

"You said it yourself, everyone's supposed to steer clear of the Knights unless they need help," you explained. "So I'm here asking for help. I think you might be the best fit. You already saved my ass twice."

"Foul language in the church—"

"Seriously?"

"—banned from this cathedral already—"

"I think we need to hit the road before the opening hymn starts, so if you could make a decision quickly so I'm not actually crucified, that would be great?" You held your hands together in a plea and Mary Victoria sighed.

It was the longest two seconds of your life as she got to her feet and pulled the veil off her head. She shoved it in Mother Kathleen's hand then pressed a kiss to her cheek with a quick "forgive me" and then shimmied her way past the other nuns to get to you.

"You're really twisting my arm here.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically and then motioned for you to go.

The two of you made it out of the doors of the Cathedral just as the bell tower began to ring at the top of the hour and the organist hit the first chord for the entrance procession.

When you had first moved into your little apartment in Hawkins, oh so long ago it seemed, a conflict rose inside of you.

It had been empty; barebones made of walls and cabinets and avocado-colored appliances...but not much else. You were expected to fill the barren space and turn it into a home. It was such a daunting task; so much of who you were had been left behind. How could you create comfort when you had nothing to work with? Nothing to go off of?

But you had been on the road for so long, free to do whatever and go wherever you please, that it quickly became a cage. The simple act of defining who you were was something you actively fought. You hid every part of you away from everyone, because surely if no one knew who you were...you didn't need to know either.

Eddie had ultimately been the person who helped you find yourself. He saw the part of you that even you struggled to see. He helped you find comfort in a cage because it was the blank slate you were looking for. You just didn't realize it yet.

Now here you were, back in a cage that was both vast and barren, yet never big enough to provide the freedom it belied.

But it wasn't a cage for you; it was for Eddie.

A cage that he created for himself, whether he realized it or not.

One with bars that he, at first, threw himself against and rattled restlessly as he called for a warden that would never come. As he begged for the parts of himself that he left behind, that he willingly gave away. He could get them back, all he needed was a way out.

You would reach through the bars and whisper sweet words of comfort, promising that you would find the key. You gave him all that you could of himself, reminded him of what it was he left. It was everything you could spare but it wasn't enough to sate him.

Little by little hands began to pull him back, pull him away.

Claw him away.

"Please don't go," you begged. "I'll help you, just stay."

"I'm hungry," he moaned. "So hungry."

More hands flocked to him, ready to provide the sustenance that you barely could. They filtered it back into him, to repay the debt they owed. Because this was not a cage to them, this was their playground.

If you couldn't help make it a home for him, they surely would.

You tried to pry them away but they laughed at you, mocked you; they were stronger than you were, their will to keep him for themselves stronger than yours to save him.

Because as Eddie got weaker, so did you.

To provide for him, you starved yourself.

And one day, it would kill you.

Your world tilted and you woke up as a horn blared in your ears and the car swerved on the highway.

"Fuck you, fucking asshole!" Mary Victoria shouted. "Learn how to drive."

One thing you quickly learned about Mary Victoria was that she was a terrible driver.

The car swerved again and you grabbed the dashboard before you were flung out through the windshield.

Well, maybe not terrible, just...a little reckless.

"Mare? What's going on?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." She gripped the steering wheel tighter and bared her teeth. "It really wasn't my fault; this guy decided to merge last second without putting his signal on. Almost took us out. Fucker."

She also swore like a sailor.

Which was not...mutually exclusive with becoming a nun...but as soon as the two of you warmed up to each other, you learned that the careful and meek personality that she schooled herself into when in a house of God was not the real Mary Victoria underneath.

It honestly sparked your curiosity.

She had, quite literally, nothing but the clothes on her back when she jumped into your car and you left Los Angeles 18 hours ago. You had offered to stop at the abbey to pick up any of her things, and she hesitated.

"I mean...I don't have anything...worth stopping for," she explained vaguely. "Maybe underwear...uh...some extra habits. I didn't have a whole lot when I joined the Sisters, so I don't have a whole lot now."

So you stopped at the first Kmart you passed to pick up some supplies for her.

"It's on me," you insisted when she tried to explain she didn't have cash either. "Since you helped me get my stuff back and you’re potentially going headfirst into danger with me."

She talked a mile a minute as she scanned through the racks of clothes.

Would she need warm weather? Cold weather? These boots looked like they might be good for running in; would you be doing any running?

"Just dress comfortably," you explained, motioning down to your own clothes. A black t-shirt, ripped jeans that had seen better days, scuffed boots, and a canvas jacket that actually belonged to Mickey Caldwell once upon a time. He left it at Eddie's trailer when he went off to college so Eddie insisted it was fair game.

He had ripped off the patches that featured some of Mickey's favorite questionable bands and had found a few that suited your tastes more. You spent an afternoon helping him with his English homework as he stitched them on for you.

"We could be helping with disaster relief, or we could be...jumping out of the way of a creature that's trying to rip our throats out. It's a tossup."

Her eyes got wide but she understood. Her selection was pretty plain, consisting of the essentials. The most exciting article of clothing she insisted on, though, was a brown, imitation suede jacket that hung on her more like a cloak.

"It looks like one I used to have, if that's ok?" she twirled back and forth a bit.

You wouldn’t have said no even if she didn’t explain; her smile was infectious.

Then, at your first stop for gas, she insisted on taking shifts driving so you wouldn’t have to stop for the night...as long as you could grab her a pack of cigarettes.

"Or two, actually. They made me quit cold turkey, and it was brutal," she explained. "But I haven't driven in...a good few years so that would really help me survive this trip."

You got her three packs of Virginia Slims, one of which she chainsmoked during her first 8-hour shift, cigarette perpetually hanging from her lips as she cruised and swerved along I-15.

There was a lot of honking and a lot of singing along with the radio—she even made a joke about stopping in Vegas—but eventually it started getting dark and you both needed to rest.

You insisted that she take the first rest, mostly so you could have some time to think.

"As long as you're fine driving at night," she asked while she got settled.

Of course, you were. You'd spent plenty of nights wandering abandoned roads and ignoring the things that lurked outside of the vehicle, right at the corners of your vision.

You woke her up at an oasis at the crack of dawn to gently wake her up and grab breakfast, before you took your own rest that came to an abrupt stop by—

"GET OVER. STOP STRADDLING THE LANE PAL!"

Mary Victoria laid her hand on the horn again until the box truck in front of you picked a lane. Her hand shot in front of your face to flip the bird at the driver as she accelerated past him.

—By that.

"Good morning to me," you muttered.

"Sorry," she repeated sheepishly.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Iowa." She pointed to the road map that was draped on the dashboard and tapped at a certain mile marker. "We just passed this rest stop...looks like there might be a truck stop coming up...or I can try to turn around if you really need to pee."

What you really needed was to be in the driver's seat.

"I don't mind waiting," you insisted and shifted in the seat now that you weren't in danger from being thrown from the car. "Some nice driving you're doing Mare."

"Listen," she said with a warning tone. "I said I was sorry."

"No, it's funny. The swearing, the honking, the smoking. Not entirely convinced you weren't joking about Vegas either."

"I'll have you know that Sister Prudence talks about the river boat casino that was a half hour from her last convent like it's Disneyland. Nuns just wanna have fun too."

"You're devoted to piety, to God."

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted and shook a finger at you. "Not devoted to God yet."

"See? There's some hesitation in there," you pointed right back at her. She slapped your hand away. "You're looking for a loophole. How did you decide you wanted to be a nun anyway?”

Her smile was a strange one, nostalgic almost...or as though there was an inside joke between her and...God...the Devil...you would never know.

"That's a long story," she insisted.

"We have nothing but time," you countered.

She leaned back and threw an arm over the back of the bench seat to grab the bag full of treat wrappers and supplies for her cigarettes. She lit one up and then started her tale.

“Yeah it’s…I mean." She immediately paused. "Ok so...yeah I guess I can admit I'm kind of on the fence about it. But can you blame me? It's a huge commitment, and I've already been doing it for years. But every step I get closer to the finish line...I dunno...something just doesn't seem right.

"I've done a lot of healing though, they've helped me out so much. So how can I change my mind now? I used to be...such a miserable person. You know when you just...get into trouble—well I guess you wouldn't know...which hey that how did you become a Knight anyway? Remind me to ask you that again later—but you get into enough trouble and people tell you that the only thing left to do is pray? Well I did.

"Los Angeles...Hollywood...I was gonna be a star, and I ran away from home and my mother told me...well she told me that I was..."

Mary Victoria clamped her mouth shut for a second. A split second. But you saw her lip quiver. She immediately sucked on the cigarette, a deep and hungry inhale, like she needed the hot tobacco to burn through the painful thoughts.

"Well anyway...it's actually not easy to become a star, especially when you come from nothing and you end up...racking up a lot of debt. And then I had this awful boyfriend who got me into more debt and he wasn't even that good in bed but he said he had connections, you know? He did have connections. Said he was gonna help me and I believed him.

"The next thing I know, I'm single, I've been evicted, I have nothing but the clothes on my back and maybe $20 in my pocket. I'm sobbing...like mascara running down the face sobbing. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard and it's literally about to rain. So I pray."

She rolled her window down and flicked the butt out. She then put her hands together in prayer.

"Please God, I just need a sign, I need a chance so I don't just step into traffic right now. I made a mistake, please can you help me. AND BOOM!" She clapped her hands together. "There's this light. I open my eyes and the El Capitan Marquee is right in front of me and wouldn't you know, standing in line are this group of nuns getting tickets to Splash. Fucking. Splash."

It could have been the ridiculous situation the two of you had found yourselves in or a general lack of sleep or just the bond that two people made while driving in a car together, but you both broke out in hysterical laughter. Because the image was just too much to really wrap your mind around.

By the time you overcame the levity, you were approaching the truck stop, and as you perused new snacks, used the restrooms, and filled your tank, she finished the rest of her story.

Sister Bernadette got her a ticket for the movie and dinner that night, offered her a place to stay, and then by morning was asking if she ever considered devoting herself to God.

"And the rest was history," she explained. "Listen, I couldn't have said no. I asked God for help and He gave it to me."

"Did He?" you asked.

"Didn't He?" she parroted.

"You literally jumped when I offered for you to come with me." You shrugged. "I don't think that's...I don't know, devotion."

"What are you devoted to then?" she questioned and something shifted inside you at her words.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked back to your car from inside the convenience store, but Mary Victoria kept talking, hands waving to emphasize your point as you stewed in your own self doubt.

"Why are you in the Holy Order if not to serve God? If not to devote yourself to a righteous cause and to stand for the good of the world against the approaching darkness?"

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, recollection of a thousand terrible things that you had done in the name of Goodness. And yes some of them were for the greater good, but...the rest?

What had it all been for?

She suddenly realized you weren't beside her and she turned back to you and balked when she saw what must have been a miserable expression.

"Is that what they say about the Holy Order?" you asked tensely.

"Uh..." She swallowed. "I mean...yeah. They don't say a lot. But...I mean...you're heroes."

You quickly approached her and grabbed the keys from her hand so you could drive.

"No," you said darkly. "We're not."

October 9th, 1987

The last leg of your trip started off tense. You barely said a word. Mary Victoria tried to make a joke now and again but it didn't get much of a reaction from you.

Soon you approached Chicago and the radio stations became familiar, sounds and shock jocks that you'd heard for most of your life. You didn't even second guess yourself before you rocketed your car off the highway and through familiar streets.

Mary Victoria had never been to Chicago before, so before you made your final pitstop, you took her to Gene and Judes. Maybe a chance to have a last little something nice before you potentially walked into the jaws of Hell itself.

"So...no Ketchup?" she cracked as she peeled the paper away from her hot dog. "And why is the relish...like...that color?"

"You're kidding right?" you asked with your own mouth full.

"Yes I'm kidding," she rolled her eyes. "Listen...I didn't...I didn't get to say thank you. I know...I-I gave you some shit...and I've been apologizing pretty much since we left LA, but I never said thank you. For helping me out."

"You've helped me out. You're still helping me out," you reminded her.

"Still, please...let me...." she fumbled with her words, but you stopped her.

"You can thank me if I get you back to LA alive," you insisted.

The two of you finished your dinner and then you headed for your home base. A tiny bungalow house with a half-dead lawn and a line of religious statues in the window of the front room—Saint Anthony, Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, Our Lady of Mount Carmel—to let any curious passersby know that the house was blessed and protected.

You pulled up to an open spot at the curb and told Mary Victoria to wait in the car, you wouldn't be very long.

And you weren't.

The house was still half in disarray from when you moved in after your Nonna passed last Fall. Your mother insisted on selling the old house, but gave you a share of the money and left you with boxes filled with secrets and walls that contained ghosts while she went to enjoy what was left of her own life.

"25 years since I met your father," she said as you begged her not to go. "I just can't do this anymore."

You didn't need much. Everything you were looking for was in your bedroom and the kitchen. You hesitated as you were about to leave and grabbed a small amulet that was hanging by the door: a red horn capped with a golden crown.

You could use all the luck you could get.

And that luck immediately evaded you because when you got back outside, Mary Victoria was at the back of your car with the trunk popped open, and she stared at the contents in confusion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You asked as you jogged down your porch steps to get to her.

You tried to push the trunk closed but she held both hands against it and begged.

"What the fuck is all of this?"

You glanced into the trunk and assessed your possessions. Things you tried to ignore most of the time, but had come to help you out in a pinch.

Jars and boxes and books. A larger tome that was a family bible-turned-diary that belonged to a great-great-grandfather. You vaguely remembered your own grandfather reading to you from it as a young child, but you had read it yourself countless times in the past year.

Two large iron crucifixes, all engraved with hyacinths, were tucked in a bag at the back. A set of knives that matched. A revolver with silver bullets that you honestly debated throwing into a river when you opened the trunk for the first time after you had run away from home. Your destiny followed you whether you liked it or not.

It was your grandfather's car, and all of his tools of the trade. And while you didn't have much memory of him, the contents spoke volumes about who he had been and why he met his demise.

"Supplies," you explained.

"I thought you were running in for supplies."

"Different supplies."

"I don't think jars of peppers are supplies," she countered. She reached into the trunk and opened the drawstring of a burlap sack. "I don't think a bag of bones is a supply."

"Keep your voice down," you hissed and forced her hands away and shoved the trunk closed. "The neighbors are nosy. Why are you snooping anyway?"

You got into the driver's seat and immediately hung the amulet around your rearview mirror alongside the existing black cord and tassel and a guitar pick on a ball chain that already hung there. Mary Victoria was quick to slide into the passenger's side and pin you with an inquisitive stare.

"Another pepper? Is that the supply you went in to get?" she asked.

"No but it doesn't hurt to have," you replied.

"It's a pepper," she deadpanned.

"It's a cornicello, it's for luck," you explained and started the car. "It's...an Italian superstition thing."

"You're supposed to be a Holy Knight, not...superstitious. What's this then?" she flicked at the cord that now tangled with the amulet. "Is it a...uh...ARGH! See I can't even think of one because it's not the same."

"They're one in the same," you insisted. "Ok, rule number one about being a Knight of the Holy Order? It's true. It's all true. Everything you know. Everything you don't. Things you couldn't even fathom? They're true."

"So God is real."

"Sure."

"What does that mean?"

"What is God?" you countered. "There could be one, there could be many. There is a Heaven and a Hell. Or you might find Nirvana. Or you could be sent to Jahannam. Or you're reincarnated. Magic and superstition and miracles and damnation. All of it exists. Or nothing does and we exist in chaos and that is explanation enough for all of the shit we see.

"That's the truth you have to face when you become a Knight, and it sucks."

"I..." She sunk into her seat, slightly shocked. Dejected? You couldn't tell. "Ok."

You had a good hour of silence as you got on the Tri-State and crossed into Indiana. But you couldn't even enjoy it because guilt roiled inside of you.

Shit.

Because she was a nun and she was devoted, even if the devotion was on shaky ground, and it was a hard pill to swallow. It had been a hard pill for you to swallow—well, your whole life was the biggest horse pill that had ever been manufactured—when your father had told you at 9 years old that everything you had been told was a lie and that you wouldn't have a First Communion with the other kids because...

You needed something to fill the silence.

You reached across the car to open the glovebox and you pulled a cassette out. An old mixtape with a label that had faded over time; it was skipping in some places but still brought you some comfort.

You shoved it into the cassette player and Ozzy's echoing voice softly filled the car as Bark at the Moon started.

"You don't have a Black Sabbath patch on your jacket," Mary Victoria said softly after a few beats.

"You like metal?" You looked over with a quirked brow.

"Eh that deadbeat ex boyfriend was all about it," she shrugged. "Had wannabe rock stars in and out of our apartment all the time. What about you?"

"I like it but my boyfriend was probably more like the wannabe rock stars than your boyfriend," you explained fondly, thinking of his stupid grin the first time he successfully swung his guitar over his shoulder at the end of a gig at the Hideout.

"You have a boyfriend?" Mary Victoria scoffed.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No I just...I don't know. I guess I have questions."

"Ok."

"What, like you're gonna tell me everything?"

"Sure," you agreed. She had told you about her life...you probably owed her some answers. You owed yourself some too, if you were honest. "Ask away."

"Is he a Knight too?" she immediately jumped at the opening. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, he's..." You bit your lip for a second. "No he didn't know I was involved with any of this. And...now he's dead so...guess it's too late."

"Oh Christ," she gasped. "I'm...I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No it's ok. I'm...it's ok." You waved her on to the next question.

"How did you become a Knight then?"

"I was born into it."

"What do you mean?"

"My father was one, and his father, and his father."

"But it's..." she hesitated. "You guys have like...you're anointed aren't you? Did they...baptize you with holy oil or—"

"My specific case is...unique, I guess you could say," you began and braced yourself to open this can of worms.

"The other knights...yes...they are anointed. They've done good deeds, so they're offered the chance to do more; God chose them to purge the darkness from the Earth. There's no rhyme or reason; you're chosen and you must go. It's almost impossible to say no. They never do. Knights are the best of the best, the purest of soul. It's fate.

"But...then there's me. There's my family. Who, if you ask anyone who is aware of the curse—"

"Curse?!" Mary Victoria exclaimed. "Ok that's not what I expected."

"Curses are real." You shrug. "Unfortunately. And they're often associated with evil right? An evil witch curses a young princess and all of that. But this...this is different. We are the evil. And the good put a curse on us. To punish us."

"And I was not expecting that either." She whistled low. "How are you evil?"

"Can I finish one thought before we move onto the next one Mare, jeez!"

"Sorry."

"Alright," you took a deep breath. "Let's rewind back to the Crusades."

"The Crusades?!"

"Mary Victoria!" You shouted and she shrank back in her seat.

"Sorry," she repeated. "I'll shut up now. But I reserve the right for follow up questions after the fact."

"Fine. So the Crusades. The quest to conquer the Holy Land, the quest for the Holy Grail, all of that. Well, it all stems back to someone wanting power over someone else. That's what happens, that's what always happens. At that time, there were no Knights of the Holy Order, there were very few who understood the way things worked; one belief rivaled another and it was man versus man instead of good versus evil. For a hundred years...more, even. Blah blah.

"And then along comes...something...a gift. Bestowed upon a select few. The power of Heaven itself. Think of...ok this is much later but think of Joan of Arc. She performed miracles, she healed people, she...she saw visions of angels and fought in battles to protect her people. Well...that...so my great, great, whatever...grandfather...was born with a power beyond understanding.

"He was called to fight in a Crusade...his power was too good of a weapon not to use. And he wasn't the only one, there were people like this on all sides...but he was the only one who refused to go. Thou shalt not kill, it is a law of God Himself. But who speaks for God? The King. The Pope. He was just one man...but he stood for what was good and they damned him.

"His blood would have to pay. Every death that he could have prevented now rested upon his shoulders, and the shoulders of his son, and his son, and none shall ever enter heaven until the debt was paid."

"Fuck," Mary Victoria coughed.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Fuck indeed. I think there's an old ass scroll in the trunk that says all of that in Latin if you want proof."

"I'm good."

"So for years, it becomes...I don't know...this legacy. Every father has a son, and they're mercenaries for whatever man is in Power, essentially. In France, in England, in Italy...and then you have, actually, Vlad the Impaler who makes a deal with the Devil to op—"

"NO! Shut up...Vlad...like Dracula?!" Mary Victoria grabbed your arm. "Don't tell me Dracula's real. That vampires are real."

"Vampires are real...Dracula is not," you explained with a laugh. "Whatever, ok Vlad the Impaler makes a deal with the Devil, or so it would seem, to open up a doorway into hell and release darkness. Well it’s all myth...the door was already open. It always has been. He just took advantage of it."

"Sure." Mary Victoria held her hands out in disbelief. "That's the most...normal thing. How does that lead to you?"

"Leads to the Knights," you corrected her. "Because Europe—I mean...the world, really—is now extra overrun with monsters and infernal creatures and bad things. And the Pope sends his chosen few, these people with the power of Heaven, to stop them.

"Now, we don't actually hate this pope," you explain. "He's...he did a good thing. He created the Holy Order. He gave these people with gifts a purpose, to do good. He called my ancestor to Rome, told him to bring his whole family—his wife and son—gave him a home and helped them set up roots. Then he says that this is the chance for penance. No more mercenary work; think bigger. Fight the darkness. Take the oath. Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace, Charity, Peace.

"And what does my ancestor do? He let the wrath take over," you struck your hands against the steering wheel to emphasize your words. "And he killed the pope. Fucking asshole."

"Are you kidding me?" Mary Victoria screeched. "HE...WHAT?!"

"But his son, ok?" You held your hands up to her. "Stepped up to the plate. Killed his own father, of course, and volunteered the family to the Order. He made a vow, which...we know magic and whatever is real...that every member of the bloodline will devote their lives to the Order, shall fight every bit of evil they come across, until the penance is paid.

"And that...is the key here," you concluded. "There's no escaping it. He said the right words in the right order and somewhere in the Celestial Scheme of things, it means that darkness will follow wherever we go, so we can defeat it, and little by little we pay the penance so one day...we can all go to Heaven.

“There’s no escaping it. Even if you wanted a peaceful life, there’s nowhere to run where that vow and the curse won’t follow. Where fate won’t find you.

“And it killed my grandfather. And it killed my father. And one day...either I get to go to Heaven, or it will kill me too and this will all be over."

Mary Victoria scrunched her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "It'll be over."

"Well it's gonna end with me," you explained. "I'm...I'm not having kids. I don't know how no one realized it before. Every man and his need to have a son and fucked a thousand years of our bloodline right in the ass."

"But why not just...kill yourself and let it be over now?" she speculated. "If you don't mind going to Hell? The other Knights will carry on the oath. Why prolong the inevitable?"

You felt yourself choke up.

"Th-thanks Mare," you laughed to try to avoid the pain. "Glad to know you're trying to get rid of me."

You saw a sign for a familiar exit up ahead and sighed.

"Well...I would happily just end it...you know? I would...I would spare myself of this mindless activity every day, I would finally get myself out from under the thumb of every priest and bishop and king who think they can manipulate me and use my power for their benefit, if it wasn't for Eddie, my boyfriend."

"Oh shit..."

"Yeah...you know...when he died I begged...I begged everyone, anyone, to undo this curse. Man did it, man could undo it. And when no one would…I asked for them to give me just one clue that Eddie was in Heaven. Everyone told me that if he was a good person, he would be waiting but I needed some kind of sign. He wasn't...he was good but was he Heaven good?

"I even wrote the Pope a letter begging for Beatification—I know, that’s a big stretch—and of course he never saw it. Some secretary sent me a Postcard back," you scoffed. "But I can't...think of him in Hell, I can't imagine him suffering a fate worse than Death because...because I love him. Because Eddie's love was the purest love I have ever known in my life. Because when I close my eyes or I fall asleep I still feel him and I will do anything, I would push myself as far as I can until my body breaks and my soul splits in two just for the chance to get back to him.

"I didn't even think that way when my own Father died. When the Vatican sent me his things, back from some mission that killed him. I was shocked; I could imagine him in Hell...in Purgatory...in some void...but I couldn't mourn, Mare. I didn't feel it, because...because that man wasn't my father...that man was the one who turned me into a weapon who had a fighting chance at something better.

"But he didn't love me. He wouldn't do this to me if he loved me." You gripped the steering wheel with a grip made of steel. It was a wonder that it didn't bend under your touch as the wrath started to fill you. "Maybe when I was born? Maybe...but how irresponsible is that? Knowing you're cursed to eternal damnation and letting your father try to fix it for you and bringing a child into the world just to let it suffer too."

"Now hey that's not fair," Mary Victoria interjected. "Hey now, hey...listen even when my mother and I were on the outs I never thought that she--"

You started talking over her.

"That's why it ends with me. It's not fate. No where was it ever written that there had to be a child to carry it on. They all had an out, they were selfish. There's even...there's even a journal of my great grandfather on the boat from Italy to America...surrounded by a thousand other people looking for a better future and a chance at some kind of prosperity. Sacrificing everything they know for absolute uncertainty. A dream that was a lie. But he talked about watching his small son play with another child. And he wondered if this new life would offer them salvation, if the curse would be left behind, so his son could be happy and free. News-fucking-flash Nonetto, if you didn't have a son, you wouldn't have needed to worry."

The road started to get precarious with potholes and fissures but you navigated them expertly. A weird fog had also started to roll in, and you simply turned your headlights off.

As if this trip wasn't already off to a smooth start. You needed to calm down before you drove into a ditch or hit something.

"Listen," you sighed and looked at Mary Victoria with openness and honesty. "Actually...don't listen to me. Of all the Knights you got saddled with you really got the fucked up one. If this is what you really want, I can help you. We can work together and...and maybe little by little I can break this curse and we can work on your abilities."

"But you just said the abilities are something you're born with," she reminded you.

"Eh...everyone has a little bit of it inside of them." You gestured vaguely out of the car. "There are plenty of people who can...read thoughts or commune with the dead or move things with their minds who haven't...fully unlocked their potential. Being a knight only involves goodness...heroic deeds...and in turn that just opens the door to these abilities a little further. I don't know what it is we might find in Hawkins, but...I don't know, maybe if we actually are able to do some good, we'll be able to see if those abilities can manifest in you."

Mary Victoria smiled wickedly.

"Ok...you know what would be cool," she prefaced. "If...if you could make explosions happen...or...or...conjure the power of the sun."

"Yeah I've seen that last one happen before," you agreed. "It's like...pretty useful against vampires actually."

"Seriously?" her jaw dropped. "Have you seriously seen vampires before?"

"I told you they were real!"

"I didn't think you were the one who faced them!" She turned in her seat and squared her shoulder. "Ok so now I'm really hoping that we face something crazy. Maybe it'll be vampires."

"Maybe."

"Or like...a werewolf...or...ok is Frankenstein's monster a thing because I think that—”

All of a sudden a shadowy figure crossed the road into the street and the two of you screamed as you hit it head on. It rolled over your windshield—cracking the glass—and off your car.

You hit the brakes hard and your car skidded to a stop. The two of you caught your breaths.

"What the fuck was that?" Mary Victoria asked weakly.

"I don't know maybe...maybe a fox or a deer," you rationalized and turned to look out the rear windshield, but all you could see was fog, somehow even denser behind you than it was up ahead.

"A fox?!" she shrieked. "That wasn't a fox!"

"A wolf then," you offered instead and turned back around in your seat. Just up ahead was a decaying green sign that said "Welcome to Hawkins" with the words HELL spray painted over the town name in red.

You felt panic start to grip you and you glanced back out the rear window once more.

You knew, more than anyone, the kind of creatures that haunted Hawkins.

Mary Victoria reached for the door handle and you grabbed her. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna see if it's ok!"

"It's...listen if it's a wild animal, we can just get into town and ask if someone can come look with us." You motioned to the sign. "We're almost to town. It'll be ok."

"Hell," she scoffed. "Sure. Fine. Let's go."

Hell.

You repeated in your head.

More like home.

“Bravest hearts[s] will carry on when sleep is death, and hope is gone.” -- Emily Rodda, Rowan of Rin

Next Chapter: Descendió a los Infiernos

#aasb #as above so below #Eddie munson x oc #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #vampire Eddie munson #tw: religious themes #tw: death #tw: family problems #tw: suicide

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 4: Malum Malus

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 - Crucible

Summary: The past haunts you, tempts you, but now you need to come to terms with it before it ruins your chances to save Hawkins from the Darkness.

Word Count: 16.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Yearning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Smut, Sexual Tension, Ambiguous Sexual Identity, Unspoken Confidence in Sexual Identity, Psychological Manipulation, Dub-Con, Non-Verbal Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Grinding/Humping, Groping, Sexual Activity with Multiple Partners, Bloodletting, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Wow what a weird month. Remember when I said I wanted to get 2 chapters out in October? Wild. Gonna stress the importance of reading the warnings in this one. We dive into some…dicey territory especially at the end. Do not give into the temptation. Or do. That's kind of…exactly what this chapter is about. (But seriously read the warnings.)

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also.”  - Robert Louis Stevenson, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

October 11, 1987

You were filled with a horrible sadness.

Worry.

You were alone...together alone.

He'd banished the others so he could focus on this...disgusting undertaking, but he'd put an obvious distance between the two of you purposefully. So he could do as he wished without your pitiful interference.

You knew this would be good for him: a singular focus, a task, a distraction. The end result would bring him to the light...but deep down you were worried he would be tempted further off the path as he forged through the darkness to get there.

"Be careful," you reminded him as the infernal red lightning flashed overhead. "You don't know what this will do."

"This will change things," he hissed excitedly. "It'll be different. It'll be perfect."

"Please." His hunger, his desire...it was palpable and overwhelming, saturating your surroundings. "Just...wait."

"It's just a little grave robbery," he chuckled darkly and closed his eyes. His form grew, large and imposing, and his hands reached for the heavens. "Everything will work out. You'll see."

"It's forbidden. Unholy."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at the challenge.

"You'll be here," he reasoned. "If anything goes wrong...you'll be here to fix it. You'll fix everything. Everything will be better. Soon."

He threw himself at the ground and drove his claws into the dirt, reaching...reaching...until the both of you shouted in pain at the resulting surge that tore through the Upside Down.

That tore through you.

You fell to your knees as you felt it pull at your heartstrings, as it ripped through your limbs, and you prayed...you prayed that everything would work. Because if it didn't...it would kill you.

And Eddie would be lost.

"You'll see," he sounded desperate now as he willed his little experiment to succeed. "Triumph over God. Over fate. We'll be together. Forever. Finally."

October 12, 1987

Deep below the Vatican laid the skeletal remnants of the Sanctuary of the Knights of the Holy Order. It was no longer in use--hadn't been for over a century--but it was there. Waiting. Kept as a reminder that mistakes had been made and lessons learned.

It had been a barracks, a place to train and rest, and mostly, a place to reflect and pray. To know oneself was to know God, because He lived inside them all. Through Him, they could overcome any challenge they faced.

Challenges that, occasionally, lived inside as well. Conflict between what was Good and what was Right.

Because the Sanctuary had also been a dungeon. A prison. A lab.

The Friars had been tasked to maintain the Sanctuary in those early days, to create weapons to aid in the fight when the Heavenly powers fell short. But in order to defeat something, you had to understand it. Creatures of Darkness had been captured, imprisoned, studied.

All of the books about the supernatural that you’d studied in your adolescence only existed because of the Order and the Friars of the Sanctuary.

But it was soul-splitting, hardening labor, and though the intentions were good…they were unethical. Unholy. But wasn’t that the way? Terrible things done in the name of goodness…were considered good no matter how terrible they were.

It wasn't until the Napoleonic Wars--when the Knights had been the worst kept secret in Europe after the conquest of the Papal States, as they did the bidding of the insidious Emperor--that everything changed. When Pope Pius VII returned from his banishment and saw that the Knights had been used for the bidding of one over the good of all, he reformed the Order.

All the dark deeds done in the name of good were buried. All of the research and experiments stopped.

And the Sanctuary closed its doors for good...

...except to you.

Where all the other Knights were anointed under the light of the moon, under the watchful eye of heaven, and were gifted with a blessing...your forefathers...you...were banished to the depths to make your vow.

That had been your first stop after you'd left Hawkins, so you could take the Oath properly.

You'd been led down the dusty winding staircase and made to explore the dank hole that still carried the stench of corruption and failure. You'd shined a light over the centuries-old dusty tomes, touched bones of saints, and viewed the body of your ancestor--the one who had turned down the offer of penance, the one who had killed his Pope--unnaturally preserved and kept on display.

He was a reminder, for your family and your family alone, of what would happen should you fail your life's purpose.

What a jarring experience, to speak the vow and then have your hand cut open to pour blood onto the knife still embedded in his heart.

They'd left you then, the Knights who'd brought you there, once they were sure you had taken the first solid steps on the path fate had in store for you. They clapped you on the shoulder, offered the briefest of congratulatory words, and then left you to, once again, crawl and climb through dark, unfathomable depths.

In hindsight, it was just a load of shit.

But for the briefest moment, you felt right. This had been the right choice, a birthright rather than a curse, and your determination would guide you to your ultimate goal.

It was a transcendent, euphoric experience akin to the moment you had realized you loved Eddie. You felt reborn once again.

Emboldened by this newfound confidence, you took the winding pathway back and you explored. The temptation was too strong. You read the tomes, you slashed through the air with a forgotten old sword inscribed with the Oath of the Order.

And you giggled as you pushed an old door open and found what you thought was an apothecary of some sort. You shined your flashlight over a set of shelves that was stacked with dusty old specimen jars labeled in antiquated script.

Your thoughts had immediately turned to Eddie; how the two of you had spent several hours making old pasta sauce jars look dusty and crusty and filled them with cornstarch, water, and food coloring for his Halloween campaign.

Venenum. Bilis. Sanguis.

You had intended to take a closer look when you kicked a jar that had been on the ground. Old and misshapen, it rolled into the shadows and you followed it. Several yards, until it hit a solid object and stopped.

The light of your flashlight hit the label first, Phlegethos Sanies, and you reached out to grab the jar.

Then you dragged the beam of your flashlight up and up, further and further.

Until you came face to face with a hulking skeleton with a horned skull.

A minotaur.

Chained to a chair, its head tilted back and jaw opened wide in a perpetual silent scream.

It was an unexpected sight and in your shock, your finger brushed the dusty, withered limb, and you saw.

Saw the atrocities committed all those years ago, heard the endless whines and screams that echoed against the stone, felt the pain that surged through every single creature that had been set upon that chair. That had been cursed to live out their final days in this place. In the name of Good. In the name of Heaven.

Your joy suddenly diminished and dread flooded you.

You already knew that the Sanctuary brought anything but sanctity to those who entered its depths, but to see it...to experience it in such a way--

"Go," the spirits warned. They amplified everything that you had felt less-than in the two short decades of your life and made you aware that while you were here as a Knight, you were very much other. Just like them. "You don’t belong here. Go. Before they get you next."

--would last with you forever.

That memory was what flashed before your eyes now as Steve threw Billy's unconscious body into the folding chair in the garage. As he and Robin wound rope around his body, and then latched handcuffs to his wrists. As they argued between each other and then spat accusations at you.

"He was dead!"

"How the fuck is he back?"

"What did you do? How did you do this?"

Mary Victoria stood beside you resolutely, and spat sharp words right back at them.

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” She leaned closer to you and muttered under her breath. “Did…did you do this? It’s fine if you did I just…need to know if I need to kick someone’s ass if they come after you.”

“I didn’t,” you reassured her numbly.

“Ok good. Good. We can work with this,” she nodded.

You tried to feel a little proud of her. She was dealing with all of this madness with more strength and composure than anyone had given her credit for.

Did she get a little—

“Shut the fuck up Harrington, stop pointing fingers.”

—enthusiastic? Yes.

However, you had yet to check on her, and if your state of mind was anything other than WHAT it was at that very minute, you would have dragged her out of this room so she wouldn't have to bear witness to what followed.

Because you could feel that it would not be pretty; feel it in the very marrow of your bones.

Watching a man crawl from a grave...to see him reach out to you before he collapsed...and then to have to haul him back to wherever it was you had come from...had been a draining task.

Especially when you did your best not to touch his skin.

The others didn't seem to have that hang up though, as they manhandled him, seemingly debated one another over what the rest of his life might look like locked up in this garage.

"How are we gonna keep him here forever? He's gonna need food, water, clothes."

"Maybe he'll just wake up and be normal?"

"Hargrove? Normal? Pfft."

"Do we need duct tape? Just in case?" Robin asked warily, her hand going to her mouth so she could chew on her thumb nail in contemplation. "He was pretty strong last time...with the Mind Flayer and everything."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," you finally spoke up, ready to get the show on the road. "Resurrection takes a lot out of you; it'll take a good amount of time for him to wake up, let alone be strong enough to do any harm."

Of course you were immediately proven wrong as he gained consciousness with a strangled gasp and coughing fit. Everyone jumped as they startled.

"What the fuck! What the fuck!" Robin backed as far from him as she could.

"Maybe you're not the expert on this that you think you are," Steve accused harshly.

"Alright he's awake now. What do we do? Douse him in holy water? Just start asking questions?"

"Can you guys shut up," Dustin hissed from the door to the garage. "Before we wake someone up. That someone being Nancy. You know she's gonna be pissed off when she finds out about this."

"Respectfully," Mare spat. "Fuck Nancy. Who put her in charge here? I'll fight her."

"Yeah we have a literal zombie tied to a chair," Steve scoffed. Unexpectedly, your curiosity was piqued and your mind began to race. "There aren't rules for this."

"Funny you say that," you took a step forward, closer to Billy, whose head hung limply as he took calculated breaths. As if he'd never taken a breath before now.

"What, there are rules?"

"Yes and no. More like...guidelines." You waved a hand dismissively. "And I meant...more your use of the word zombie. The origin of...zombie...is--"

"Listen, you gave us a lesson in vampires and resurrection last night too. But does it really matter?" Robin questioned.

You paused and looked around the garage.

Four faces stared at you expectantly, as though they were simply waiting for the next thing to happen. No silly lore, no story, no explanation of what would come next. Dustin and Mare looked curious enough, but it had been a long day and a longer night. They didn't have the patience.

For a moment, you were transported again.

Reminded of another life. Other lives.

One lonelier, so much lonelier. Twenty-some-odd years spent so obviously separate from everyone else, mostly silent as decisions were made for you; thoughts and opinions and words buried deep that would never matter because your fate was already written. And then another, where you were seen and understood. Your silly stories were shared and embraced. Appreciated and loved. Not just by one person, by many...but because of one person.

It had been years since you had walked away from it...but had taken just as long, it took until right this second, to resign yourself that you might never have it again.

You shot a tight, apologetic smile at the others and then crouched down in front of Billy. You gently called his name.

"Can you hear me?" You asked. "Billy?"

He groaned and raised his head weakly, his bloodshot eyes slightly unfocused until they landed on you. He fought against the restraints for a moment, but you held your hands out to try and calm him.

"Don't...we have you tied up, but don't be afraid. It's just a precaution. You're safe here."

His shoulders heaved for a moment but he relaxed.

"Good. Now...we have some questions. Do you know where you are?" You looked at the others and then back at him. "Do you know who you are? Recognize anyone here?"

He stared at you.

"Billy?"

Just kept staring.

"This is going nowhere," Steve sighed.

"No, no, it's disorienting," you explained. "Give it a second. How long has he been dead for? Two years? Almost three?”

“His body doesn’t look like Barb’s.” Robin noted. "Or Heather’s or Chrissy’s or—”

“Ok now you want to hear what I have to say?" you snarked, and you almost apologized when Billy's lip quirked the slightest bit. Then it was gone.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

So there was something inside--someone--with a sense of humor.

You thought back through what you'd seen in Max's memories.

Billy wasn't...he wasn't a joker. Could he be? With friends and people he felt safe with, sure. Would he laugh at the expense of people he saw as lesser than him? As a way to bolster his own confidence? Yes. And could you say that the people in this room were definitely ones he would target for his own sense of security.

But this wasn't that.

Those empty eyes--abyss-like with blown pupils--stared at you still as you shifted, they followed you...and you froze. It was microscopic, barely noticeable if you hadn't been looking right into his eyes.

You'd seen that before.

The demogorgon. How it had followed you. Disinterested in the hunt, in Wayne. Specifically gunning for you.

It had reached for you. Just like Billy did before he collapsed.

"Kas?" you questioned, and without even looking, you could sense everyone else in the room stiffen. The air grew tense; a shift in the mood. "It's you in there right? How are you doing that?"

He blinked.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps.

Not an answer, per se, but enough of one.

"That's a neat trick," you goaded, hoping to maybe get a little more than just a blink. "Can you do that to all of them? Or just this one? The empty ones."

No reaction this time.

You stood to your full height and he watched. Watched as you paced, so purposefully. In a human body once again, instead of a demogorgon, but akin to a predator tracking its prey.

In those dark depths, there was need. Hunger.

But you had a need too. Kas was challenging you, had been, and you needed to win.

You were suddenly determined to get something from this revelation. Could you get him to bend? Get him to break? Reveal his hand unintentionally.

Victory so sweet you could taste it.

"You don't like me, do you? Is that why you're sending your pets after me?" Billy blinked, his eyes widened. "You want me? You have me. It's ok, you don't need to talk. I can still hear you loud and clear."

"Uhhh..." Dustin timidly piped up from the door. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, if...if Kas really can see everything--"

"It's fine," you dismissed.

Mary Victoria huffed beside you.

"Listen, you might as well talk," she said to Billy, to Kas. "Give us something. You're not going anywhere, and it's not like we're gonna break your knees or anything."

It was a joke. Of course it was a joke, it was how she dealt with stressful situations. But...it got you thinking.

"I mean, we could," you whispered.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin all reacted harshly, admonishing you, asking if you'd lost your mind. And maybe you had. For a brief moment, the memory of the minotaur's skull, mouth open in a perpetual scream, flashed before your eyes.

But triumph was too tempting.

So you locked that memory away. Used it as a motivation even. Worse things had been done for lesser causes. This was...

What was it?

What were you fighting for anymore? For Hawkins? For Eddie? For yourself?

...this was war.

"I mean he's tied up," you gestured to him. "Just like Mare said. Might as well."

"I don't know what you are besides...absolutely bonkers," Robin dismissed you, then looked to Mare. "But aren't you a nun? Aren't you supposed to...not...commit sins or something."

"I'm a novice," Mare shrugged. "I'll say a few Hail Mary's, it'll all be ok."

"That's...it's still Billy's body," Dustin tried to reason with you. "We're not here to torture him."

"Why not, maybe he can give us answers?" Mare disagreed.

"No!" Steve immediately tried to step between you and Billy, especially as he saw your hand reach for the knife on your belt. "No torture. That's not gonna give us answers; that's just gonna hurt him."

"What do you care?" you scoffed.

"He's a person. He's innocent."

Anger burned through you at the hypocrisy. Sure Billy was innocent when you wanted to take control of the situation, but they had no problem tying him up because of the potential danger.

"Billy is a vessel," you explained through gritted teeth. "A vessel for Kas. Just a suit. He isn't in there. Do you know that? None of you want to hear my explanations...fine. But just trust me...there isn't enough of Billy left spread across the entire universe for him to be in there. But Kas is. And we need answers. So I'm gonna get them."

"Then you're gonna go through me," Steve challenged you.

"Through us," Robin agreed and stepped beside him.

You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists.

"We don't have time for this."

"What if it's just a big misunderstanding," Dustin interjected again. "What if he's trying to get a message to us."

"What kind of message?" Mare questioned curiously.

"Fat fucking chance," you scoffed. "He's killing people. You said it yourself, he wants out. He's hungry. What's he gonna do if he can get to this side? Boom. Feast."

"No, Henderson's right," Steve agreed but you wouldn't be stopped.

"You were all for hunting him down a few hours ago."

"We were going to hunt the undead. The ones attacking the town."

"One chance at guessing who sends them to attack the town in the first place."

"Maybe he's just trying to get information from us in return? To make a plan?" Robin suggested.

"Yeah," Steve snapped his fingers at Robin in agreement. "Maybe that's all it is. He wants to get a message out. Wants to communicate and get information and make a plan but he chose Billy Hargrove and he's having a rough go of it. So why don't you just...do that thing? Jump into his mind. Talk to him that way. Like you did with Max."

"M-Max?"

The tension in the room broke and everyone looked at Billy.

Something changed.

You watched the transition happen, as one pupil constricted, then the other.

"M-m-Max," he stammered.

As his cheeks flushed. As Kas gave up control...and something else gained it back.

"No," you shook your head, unwilling to accept defeat. You pushed through Steve and Robin, and dove for Billy. You grabbed the sides of his head and looked directly into his eyes.

You clawed your way in. Desperately. Savagely. As though something deep inside of you yearned for it. And you knew you could do it, because he did it.

You became Billy Hargrove, for the briefest of moments.

You had met him once.

Met was a generous term.

A halloween party Eddie had dragged you to, one where Billy had behaved abysmally and then got too drunk to know up from down. You had seen him slip in the kitchen, heard the thunk when he hit the floor, and it had only been your intention to go and see if he needed help.

But when you touched his skin...the hollowness you felt there...it shook you.

A man fully living shouldn't have been hollow in that way.

Eddie had warned you after the encounter to stay as far away from Billy as you could, some irrational fear of the danger he might bring. But your fear of that hollowness had been enough to make you agree. 

He was dangerous...a man...and, you thought, a beast.

After you'd had enough time to process it though--after you'd encountered more people and gained life experience--you had come to an explanation. You likened it to scratches in wood, deep divots that had been carved out of his being, either by sadness or cruelty, his own or others you couldn't know. 

He was not hollow, it was just that someone had taken a little too much of him than his being could withstand giving.

You'd met plenty of people like that in your travels. Untouched by the supernatural, simply...irreparably damaged by the fact that they were too human to keep going.

Pair that with what you'd seen in Max's head, and it was no wonder he'd been an easy target for Vecna's dark ambitions.

It was why you had been wary of touching him when he collapsed on the grave. If he was already empty before he died...what would you find?

Now though...you had touched him. Dove into the depths of his mind, in a different way than you had with Max. You didn't just brush the edge of his mind to search his thoughts, you needed to be amongst his very being.

And lo...nothing again.

In fact, less than nothing...worse than nothing.

You were empty...empty...dying. Your limbs felt heavy and weak.

Then you realized.

You weren't breathing.

You took a deep breath and it felt like your lungs had expanded for the first time in centuries. They were stiff and crackling. Even so, the dank, stale air felt like a relief to breathe.

After several breaths you took stock of yourself. Not dying anymore. Living. Again.

You looked down at yourself; you still had some visage that was your own but when you clenched your hands, you couldn't feel. You watched your fingers move, willed them to do so, but couldn't feel the movement.

You wondered if it was a side effect of the resurrection. What did the dead feel after they died? Their spirits, you knew. Their bodies, a mystery.

Until Billy.

What a curious thing though...

He had already been emptied so thoroughly before he died. What was left to put back so he could return to the land of the living? What had come out of the grave with his body? What had Kas scratched from the bottom of the proverbial barrel to put back into him to get him to rise again?

You observed your surroundings then. You were in a desolate hallway, dark and filled with doors. They were all open, broken, and hanging off their hinges. Abandoned. Empty. Akin to something twisted and surreal that Dali might have imagined.

Suddenly footsteps echoed behind you--in front of you? Direction didn't exist here--and you spun to try and find the source.

There.

An open door with a faint light shining through it. You caught the slightest glimpse of a clawed hand grasping the door jamb before it disappeared within.

Fight or flight activated, you were quick to the chase.

Kas was here. He was still in here.

The ground beneath your feet was uneven, unstable. With no sense of self, you kept faltering, and you knew you couldn't continue to exist in this place for very long.

There were no physical limitations here, however. So you could cross great distances much faster than in the real world, and you reached the door much quicker than you might have in the real world.

You were gonna catch him, confront him, kill him right here and now.

But when you crossed through the threshold, you found...yourself.

Not a reflection; an actual duplicate of you.

All of your sense of urgency and anger dissolved.

And in its place, confusion took over.

She looked worn and disheveled. Clothes ripped. Split lip. Legs shaking as though it took all the effort in the world to stand.

Both of your eyes widened at the recognition of one another but before either of you could say anything, that clawed hand wrapped around her waist and tugged her through a tear in the ether. Her mouth opened in silent protest, her hand reached out, and she was gone.

And so was Kas.

The frustration returned and you let out a roar of expletives, ready to tear the room apart.

Only for a faint sound to capture your attention.

Across from you was another doorway...another room with brighter light this time. Almost blinding. Sun shining through an actual window.

You slowly crossed the distance and found a familiar figure crumpled on the floor, breath shallow, ropes around his wrists. He weakly tried to get to his feet and you did nothing but watch.

Your focus had been so singularly on Kas that you didn't realize that Billy would be in here too. A remnant. A revenant. His spirit torn...just like your own mirrored visage had been.

You rushed to help him, and when you did, you glanced through the window and saw yourself again. Bigger this time. Time frozen. Eyes locked.

Strange.

In your arms, Billy stirred.

"Who..." he spoke weakly, head resting on your shoulder. "Where..."

"It's ok," you reassured him, your conflicting emotions forgotten temporarily. "It'll be ok."

You summoned the strength inside of you, hoping you could access your body out there from...whatever you were in here, and you poured the healing light into him, until he could stand on his own.

Until he could scream.

"Max!"

You wrenched your hands away as you were thrown back into your body. Steve and Robin grabbed you as you backed away and Billy started struggling against the restraints again.

"Max, Max,” his voice got clearer and stronger. “Where is she? Is she safe?”

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes and pulled at the handcuffs. To everyone's surprise, the metal gave just the tiniest bit.

"We really should have used the duct tape," Robin muttered.

"Billy, everything's ok," Mary Victoria stepped around you and attempted to soothe him. She shot him a gentle smile and held her hands out in front of her to show she meant no harm. "Max is alright. She's at home. Safe."

He took a few deep breaths, eyes darting between hers, before he relaxed. He hung his head again.

"I don't...don't..." He made a whining noise. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Mare repeated. "What don't you know?"

"She cried over me. But I don't know her. Who is Max?"

Mare whipped around to look at you and you sighed wearily and shook your head. You didn't even know what to think at this point.

Clearly everything you knew was wrong.

"What do you remember then Billy?" she asked.

"I..." his brow furrowed in concentration.

Contemplation.

"Don't," you spoke up and his gaze shot to you, then to your knife, and back. You shrugged Robin and Steve off of you and held your hands out just like Mare did. "Don't strain yourself. It'll happen when it happens."

He nodded and wet his lips.

"I remember...Max hurt me too," he began. "Before. I scared her and she hurt me. Why did I do that?"

"What else?" Robin asked.

"The...I think he was here." Billy nodded over to Steve. "And I hurt him. I'm...I'm sorry..."

"Shit, never thought I'd hear Billy Hargrove apologize," Steve muttered in disbelief.

"Shut up Dingus."

"The beach. And a woman. A room...a diner. Silly Billy."

You'd heard that before too...an echo of the human parts of Billy that had been present in '84, despite the great gouges inside of him.

"She called me her Silly Billy."

"And you," he nodded towards you, and then his eyes got stormy. "And Eddie."

Mare looked to you again.

"Eddie, that's your..."

"My boyfriend, yeah," you nodded. "Halloween a few years ago. Eddie...roughed him up a little bit. Why would you remember that though?"

"Because it hurt," Billy strained, his voice hoarse. And despite the hoarseness, there was a clarity there. An understanding that you simply couldn't fathom he possessed given his state. But he did. And you know it was because Kas made him aware, and that simple fact burned you.

"What else would he let me remember?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know...a lot of things."

"About Billy?"

"...no."

There was a pause and the mattress glub-glubbed as Mary Victoria shifted on the waterbed.

"About Eddie?" she asked, peeking down at you as you laid on the floor.

"No," you responded truthfully, startled that it was probably the first time he wasn't on your mind. "About Kas."

She sighed.

"Listen, maybe you need to let this Kas thing go," she offered. "Focus on fixing things here first. That was your plan right? To help get Hawkins back on its feet."

"I can only fix things here if I stop him," you replied. "Otherwise he's just gonna make them worse again. And he knows it. That's why he's after me now."

"After you?"

"You heard me before, when he was...possessing Billy. He's sending things after me. To kill me, probably. One of the vampires--"

"I thought you said they weren't vampires."

"--and then a demogorgon when I was out visiting Wayne. And now...now Billy himself."

"Why?"

"I'm a thorn in his side, why else?"

"Could be anything else," Mare offered. She was quiet for a moment, then she continued. "Maybe you think he wants to stop you. What if Dustin is right? What if he needs you? What if he needs your help too?"

"Then he could ask! What are these games, just ask for my help. Simple as that." You watched as she gnawed at her lip. "What is it?"

"I don't...I don't know. I have a theory. Maybe. I just need to think through it for a little bit. Let it bubble like a stew. Could be something; is probably nothing. But maybe this...this is all he can do. He's calling, you're just not listening."

You stared at each other for a moment, and she looked incredibly unsure of herself. You could sense the words that were coming next. Forget it, forget I said anything and you stopped her before she could.

"Maybe you're right," you admitted with a sigh. "I know I was quick to jump on the let's kill Kas train of thought. But can you blame me? There are rules. And he's breaking them."

"He probably doesn't know them."

"You're right, probably not. But neither do you." It was your turn to feel apprehensive now. Guilty. Instead of defensive; you turned into a bitch when you got defensive. "How are you doing? I haven't checked on you really. I'm sorry."

"You've only been a fucking mess yourself," Mare sniffed judgmentally and then winked. "Can't really blame you though. I'm...handling it."

"Not overwhelmed yet?"

"Most certainly overwhelmed," she disagreed. "But not enough to quit."

"Good."

"You can make it up to me next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah...you're not getting rid of me that easily."

"And what if I die here Mare?" The words escaped your mouth instinctually before you realized they had, and you both froze. You especially, your mind going a million miles an hour. "I mean..."

What did you mean?

What did you mean?

"You know, this whole thing...this whole curse is supposed to end in fire for me anyway," you shrugged. "It could happen any time and this...Hawkins is personal. I know I'm not being as careful as I would any other time. I mean, look at me already. What if I die here?

"What if...what if your theory...whatever it is...is wrong? What if everyone is wrong and Kas just needs to be stopped and I'm not strong enough and I die?"

You said it all in one breath and heaved by the time it was all out.

"Are you afraid?" she asked after a beat. "Of death?"

"Not enough to stop doing this dumb shit, apparently."

"You said you wanted...wanted to break this curse...for Eddie."

"I do."

"So are you afraid of dying? Of leaving him? Is that why you're telling me?"

"I'm afraid..." you paused. "I'm afraid I've brought you all this way and I'm gonna leave you to fend for yourself. I'm afraid that I'm gonna leave Hawkins worse off than I found it. I'm afraid...I'm afraid of leaving him alone because losing me will hurt him more."

She reached out a hand and you met her halfway to grasp it. Tightly. Desperately.

And you thought...you thought she'd do what she had been doing. Thought that she would offer some comfort or some words of wisdom to make you feel better.

He's in Heaven and he's waiting. He's waiting for you.

"What if he isn't in Heaven?" she asked, face entirely serious. She gripped your hand tightly. "What if he's in Hell? And all of this...is for nothing? You do all of this...you break your curse...and you're still alone?"

You could hear them then, a thousand years of your bloodline screaming what should have been the answer in your ears. Your grandfather. Your father. Fuck, even your grandmother who had no curse upon her but spent her life and all her goodness to prevent your damnation.

And then you thought of Wayne…his words. The way you tried to deny them.

“Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

Your throat tightened, but the response was easy.

"I guess I'll see him in Hell then."

You'd never seen him cry before.

Well, you had.

But not here. Not in this place.

Seeing the blood drip down his cheeks shook you to the core.

"Was it not enough?" he sniffed pathetically. "Why wasn't it enough?"

What could you say to that?

There would never be enough.

Not until you could save him. If you could ever save him.

How could you fill an empty cup...when the pitcher was empty too?

He roared when he didn't receive an answer, startling you.

"What did you expect to happen?" you asked wearily. Even if you couldn't help him, you could attempt to alleviate his woes. Just like you always had. That was your purpose: a balm to his soul, a buffer. "You couldn't control the others at the beginning."

"And I can't control them now either, can I?"

"They're willful."

"Aren't they."

"But so are you." He scoffed, but you continued. "And you're cunning. You have a plan."

"You have plans. Plans that fail, if you haven't noticed." He slashed at you with his claws, lashing out, but you appeared on the other side of him instead.

"You just need to try again," you offered sagely.

"And what good would that do?"

That was when the tide changed.

You'd been through if before but...there was no before that was quite like this. Something was so minutely different this time that you didn't realize it until it was too late.

His mind raced, his mouth raced faster, as he voiced his thoughts and put them forth into this dastardly dimension. If things were better, it would have reminded you of all the times he voiced his harebrained schemes. All of the silly little plans he had for the two of you.

Instead, they began to take shape, dark tangible things that you simply couldn't keep up with. Couldn't put to sleep as fast as they were brought to life.

Further and further into temptation--desperation--he went, and the more you tried to hold him back, the more he resisted.

You thought it was him, succumbing to the darkness once again. Drifting over the edge but then the realization came.

It was you.

"Why are you still here? Why? You act like you're here to help... but you're a burden. You've...you've ruined it. Ruined everything! I have to fix it. I have to."

He slashed again and you could suddenly feel it. For the first and only time. You felt it carve through you. Not painfully, not really. But the space where he would have run you through...disappeared.

You disappeared.

You'd done it on purpose before. Countless times. Disappeared into the void of him. Back where you belonged. But this time...this time he made you go. He dispelled you.

How long had it been, how long had you tried. How much had you given to him, to sustain him, with no hope of ever getting it back. He took from you. Took and took and took. It could have been a day or an eternity.

Suddenly there's no possible way to cling onto this reality, to hold him back from careening over the edge into darkness. Because you found yourself falling as well.

Lost.

You tried to do it on your own for so long, but now it was truly the end. You'd always known it would come. You'd worked so hard, you hoped you could save him before it came to this.

You needed her now...just as much as he did.

Lost.

You reached out one last time as his shoulders heaved, as the thick red tears ran rivers down his skin. Fingers brushed over his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips.

A farewell.

You melted into him one last time; you'd wait until you were well enough to return, whole once again.

You could rest now. What a relief.

Lost.

October 14, 1987

Having an alliance with others was a strange concept to you.

Although you did most of your work alone, it was not out of the realm of possibility to have a partner from time to time. Partner. Singular. They were few and far between, though. And for all intents and purposes, in Hawkins, that was Mary Victoria.

Your right-hand-man, your conscience when you were led astray, responsible to make sure the other didn't get killed.

Now, suddenly, there was a whole team that had your back. Mare, obviously...but Steve, Dustin, and Robin too.

It felt like an episode of the Brady Bunch.

Was this what it felt like to have siblings?

"Friends," Mare rolled her eyes when you made the comment to her. "They're called friends."

For an entire day, you all lurked around the Harrington's with the acute knowledge that you had a shared secret and that you'd have each other's backs any time someone potentially came close to finding it out.

Steve was the main person to run out to the garage whenever someone needed something. It was his house, after all; no one questioned it if he wanted to roam around at will or if he wanted some areas off limits.

Food was the next hurdle; Claudia did a great job working with limited supplies to feed an entire house of friends and neighbors. But sneaking an entire extra helping was challenging. Dustin was often the person to keep his mother distracted while extra bits of mashed potatoes or casserole were scooped onto a plate. And then you and Mare brought the food out to Billy, taking turns feeding him and keeping watch.

You all had agreed that you needed to keep him tied up and in the garage. It was just too risky, especially with Kas potentially lurking somewhere deep in his mind.

But Billy barely said anything when you went to visit, barely even acknowledged someone else was there short of opening his mouth for a bite of food.

Mare wondered, at first, if that meant Kas was back. It didn't take much for you to realize that no, Billy was the only one in there. He was just...disinterested. Disoriented.

Recollecting the mismatched pieces of a puzzle that he had no idea how to put back together.

He had moments of recollection sometimes, as he began to shuffle those pieces around. He'd make...parts of a picture, but not enough to discern anything truly useful. He'd ask about people sometimes. Mostly about Max. Ask if he could see her, which Steve harshly declined.

"Not a chance," he scoffed. "You think I'm gonna let him near Max? Any of those kids? After everything they've been through? Over my dead body."

"Maybe it'll help," Mare suggested. "With the memories. To see his sister. For them to talk."

"You wanna know the first time I knew Billy was Max's brother? Hmm?" Steve put his hands on his hips and looked at her expectantly. "When he beat the shit out of me, could've killed me. Max had to knock him out with a tranquilizer to get him to stop."

"Holy shit."

"So no, even though he seems innocent...different, he's not getting near those kids."

And then Billy would go nearly catatonic once again, back to shuffling the pieces around until he could make sense of himself again.

Another meal. Another bout of silent chewing and half-present responses. Another opportunity for Mare to try and coax him out of his shell.

"It takes time," you explained.

"How much time?"

"I...I don't know. Enough."

"Well," Mare sighed and loaded up a spoon to feed him. "Guess we're just gonna have to help him get there." From that point, she always tried to get a response out of him.

Mainly, by making airplane noises as she fed him.

"It's funny," she defended.

"It's infantilizing," you chuckled from your place at the door.

"I mean...it's still kinda funny," she shrugged, sending another biplane full of pot roast and veggies onto the next mission in Billy's digestive tract.

"We don't need funny. We need him to see he can trust us." You looked past her at Billy then, realizing that he might have been sick of being spoken about as if he wasn't just sitting there. "You can trust us, you know? When you're ready."

He just blinked at you.

"Maybe...maybe to start feeling alive again, he just needs to hear our life stories too," she sat up straight and cleared her throat. "Hi Billy. My name is Mary Victoria. I was born in a small town in Nebraska--"

And on it went.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two whole days.

You bounced around different topics, trying to get Billy to react to something. Anything. California, sports, the supernatural, politics, action movies, musicals. And he did. Sometimes there were just sighs or a huff that sounded adjacent to a laugh. No rhyme or reason to what it was he reacted to. Just...a reaction.

Better than nothing.

“…and then Mr. Perkins said 'nobody waves anymore' and Steve joked 'it's because we're not near the ocean.' And I thought it was funny," Mare put her hand on her chest. "But Robin just rolled her eyes."

Billy made a long-suffering sigh as he chewed his creamed spinach.

"I know, it wasn't funny," you agreed with him, then you glanced over at her. "It wasn't funny."

"It was! I like corny jokes!"

"Obviously."

"Do you think they're dating?" she asked, suddenly, out of left field. "Robin and Steve?"

"Uhhhh."

You didn't really know how to respond to that. Billy, the most reactive that he had been in the past few days, scoffed. Or sneezed maybe.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, they seem close," she shrugged. You narrowed your eyes at her. "He's cute. I wouldn't put it past him to have a girlfriend or something. End of the world and all...and there's this...I don't know it's gonna sound silly."

"What is it?"

"Ok, disclaimer, I'm not going crazy." She pointed at you in warning. "Remember that. I just...whenever they're around each other, there's this string. It isn't there. I don't see it. But it's...I just know it's there. I notice it with a lot of people, actually. Especially here."

Interesting.

"What kind of answer do you want?" you asked her and leaned back in your chair. "The one you want to hear or the long one?"

Mare groaned and rolled her head back.

"Knight Lesson 102," you offered her. "Or, more fitting, like...Nun Graduation Revelation."

"But moooommmmm." She stomped her feet a little. "Can you do a worse job of reminding me that I'm not supposed to feel any kind of...attraction towards anyone. Married to God and all of that."

"You didn't take your vow yet."

"Whose. Side. Are. You. On!"

She clapped to emphasize every word.

"Long answer first," you began with a laugh. "Everyone here has a connection that spans what the eye can see. Those strings you feel, did you also feel them between Steve and Dustin? Robin and Nancy? Hell, even between us and them now, those bonds are forming.

"The Moche civilization in Peru believed that your life-force flowed through you and into others the more you shared yourself with them. And vice versa. Through conversation, through dance, through love and friendship. You make connections with everyone you meet and become a complex web of the people whose lives you touch. It's what gives us empathy."

"So that means I'm still connected with my douche ex. Great."

"Yes and no. Yes, because he's left his mark on your life and you wouldn't be you without him. But also no because you both severed that tie a long time ago."

She seemed to accept that answer.

"What about Robin and Steve then?"

"Do I think they're dating?" You asked for clarity and she nodded. "I don't know, how could I? But you can sense their bond is stronger than others, right? I thought they were siblings when I felt the connection between them. I think they just...will walk through life on a shared path for a very long time."

"Sounds like fate," she snorted. "Or soulmates or something."

"Soul..." Billy rasped, the unexpected sound causing you both to jump.

He jolted in his chair against the restraints, coughing and spitting and gagging. The convulsions lead to all manner of bodily sounds emanating from him.

"What the..!" Mare exclaimed. "What's happening to him?

"I don't..." You shook your head. "I don't know."

The anticipation was the worst. In fact, you anticipated the worst. You had thought, initially, that it was Kas trying to jump back into his body, and you could be ready at the very least. Ready to confront him, ready to jump back into Billy's mind in order to grasp Kas with your own two hands.

But you didn't anticipate nearly enough.

The food came up first. Days worth of food. It wasn't Exorcist-adjacent pea soup; it was undigested, save for chewing, and mostly whole. It spewed from his mouth violently and you both backed away as chunks landed near your feet.

"What the fuck dude!"

"Can you heal him or something?"

"I can try."

"Yes, please, try. Jesus fucking Christ."

You took a step forward, hand already outstretched so you could take a hold of him, but he spewed the last bits of foot and bile, right in your path and you jumped before it could hit you.

The dirt was next. He choked on it before he erupted.

Dust, then pebbles, then thick clumps of wet earth. It clatters and splats all around you. You dodged a hailstorm of bits and pieces, the likes of which would put the blast of Mount Saint Helens to shame, and then watched in horror as a slow, constant flow rolled and dripped from his mouth. Like magma.

Tears flowed down his cheeks and he spat to clear his airway, only for more gravel to be expelled.

"Are we sure he isn't the Antichrist or something?" Mare grabbed your arm, and pulled you back to her. To protect you or herself, you couldn't be sure.

"That isn't a thing." Although you couldn't be sure of that either.

"Then how do you explain all of this? What the hell is happening?"

You didn't know. It was beyond you.

You tried to race through everything that you'd read and heard of and seen. Dream interpretation and superstitions and cautionary tales. Your mind conjured images, interpretations of God vomiting angels and expelling them from Heaven and into Hell, another of Him spewing dirt to create the Earth itself, and a third of Zeus freeing his siblings from the belly of the dreadful Kronos.

Let alone the symbolism. You didn't have time to analyze all of it.

If you had a hundred years, if you could stop the flow of time, maybe you could come up with some idea of what this was and how to stop it.

"Help me!" He sobbed around mouthfuls of dirt and dust. "Please."

Instead you needed to act, react, as fast as you could.

"Help him!" Mary Victoria screamed.

You took the steps forward again to try and use your healing power to stop this, but you recoiled for the briefest of seconds, as Billy's eyes dilated again and blood began to leak from his dear ducts.

Kas.

But Billy wrenched his eyes shut and screamed, deep and guttural and painful.

"GET OUT!"

You didn't hesitate to take two fingers, slot them into his forehead, jamming his third eye chakra.

"Sleep," you commanded.

And his eyes rolled back in his head as his body stilled.

You left your fingers there, as the last little bits of dirt dripped from Billy's mouth and bounced down his chest and to the ground. You tried to feel him, heal him, but you felt...

Nothing.

His body was still, you couldn't fathom where the dirt and the Earth came from. There was no supernatural cause. The fragmented pieces of him remained as intact as they could be; he, for all intents and purposes, was whole. Even the connection to Kas in his mind had been severed, you felt no pathway leading to the Upside Down or its Master.

Strange.

You wondered if it had anything to do with his resurrection, if somehow the act of crawling from the ground had caused something to settle within Billy that he needed to regurgitate to finally and fully return to life. Maybe if you touched the wet earth that had been expelled from him you could feel some kind of psychometric evidence of its origins. And know what had caused it. The way God could feel Abel's blood scream from the earth after it was spilt.

Was this how Kas had resurrected all of them? Had their rebirths been just as violent?

Frantic footsteps made it to your ears then, voices clamoring over one another at the door. You and Mary Victoria turned as the knob jiggled and Dustin and Steve's voice overlapped with another.

You expected a shitstorm. An argument.

You expected Nancy.

You steeled yourself for her. Expected her. Hardened your heart so that you didn't burn with the sting of her venom.

But as the door was thrown open, all you saw was betrayal in a pair of innocent eyes.

"What on Earth," Claudia stared at the scene before her, horrified, her attention unable to fully land on one thing, "is happening here?"

And you didn't know what was scarier.

Everything you had just witnessed.

Or her disappointment.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Ok so maybe I'm not but you don’t need to leave.”

“I think it’s better if I do.”

“No one asked you to go. You don’t have to do this self-sacrificing thing.” Mary Victoria snorted.

“This isn’t self-sacrifice,” you retorted. Hands on hips, you turned to her. “Or have you not read the Bible. Exile. It’s kind of a thing.”

Claudia was…concerned.

Disappointed, yes, that you all had kept Billy a secret. But concern was the main reaction once you’d all sat down to explain how he came to be in the Harringtons garage.

And alive.

She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t yell. She wasn’t angry.

She wrung her hands and her voice wavered as she formulated questions and responses. Her eyes kept sliding over to Dustin, who would take her hand in his and reassure her.

It’s ok mom. We have a plan. Don’t be afraid.

Claudia looked to everyone for confirmation. To Steve and Robin, even Mare. But when she got to you, her eyes only held betrayal.

You were good at what you did. Probably, no one had really ever told you that you were shit. Cursed? Yes. A snarky bitch, a meddler, a loudmouth, etcetera etcetera. But bad at defeating darkness? Never.

You knew you could protect innocents. But what was the point if you didn't...protect innocence.

And that’s when you decided you needed to go. To give them some space without your bullshit.

“Self imposed.” Mare rolled her eyes. “Like an asshole.”

“It's really not the insult you think it is,” you explained. “I’m just going to stay with Wayne. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to take Billy on a drive and maybe knock a few marbles loose—”

“Careful. He doesn’t have that many marbles to begin with.”

“—then we can continue the work on your Knight lessons ok?”

"And save Hawkins?" she followed up and you shot her a strained smile. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"Stick close with the people we trust," you nodded towards the group of your friends who had congregated at the door to witness your temporary exodus. "Don't let them do anything to Billy, and most importantly, keep yourself safe."

"I thought you'd be back tomorrow."

"A lot can happen in one night."

You threw your bag into the backseat of your car and Mare pulled you into a hug.

"You be careful too, ok? No going out after curfew, even if you see something shiny luring you out into the woods," she cautioned.

"I'll be f--"

"You're incapable of staying out of trouble. And I know if you're not careful you're gonna get yourself killed. It's like you're tempted by danger or something."

"Who's the mom now," you joked.

"Shut up."

And then you were off. Back across Hawkins to Wayne and Lover's Lake.

You forewent the radio this time, opting to drive in silence and listen to the whistling wind and any potential wing flapping. The whole radio feedback misfiring happened twice more since the little mishap with Sympathy for the Devil and you decided that 3 strikes so music was just off the table for you for the foreseeable future. And as much as you'd like to have listened to Fats Waller crooning on that old mixtape Eddie made you, about how dark and stormy it was inside this heart of mine, you listened to the distant thunder as an actual storm moved in instead.

"Great," you muttered and stepped on the gas a little faster so you wouldn't have rain pelting you in the face, thanks to your non-existent windshield.

That was gonna be a bitch to fix.

The windshield, probably part of the frame. On top of the air conditioning was already long gone and the heat on its last leg. Power steering had gone out once as you were driving through the Rockies. That had been fun to find a place to fix.

You were just old enough to remember your grandfather bringing the car home, brand new. Of course at that time you didn't understand. You just liked standing on the bench seat with your hands on the steering wheel going vroom vroom. The whole family took a drive.

It felt like such a normal memory in comparison to...literally the rest of your life.

Then a few weeks later, he was gone. And so was your dad, replaced by your father.

Nonna wore a set of black robes that first year--from which, came the tasseled cord belt that hung from the rearview mirror--to mourn her husband and son, and then to dedicate herself to your salvation. And Mom had been the one who started taking the car out for joyrides to escape from her bleak reality instead. She’d taught you how to drive, taught you how to question your faith--question yourself--in the car.

It was a strange, contradictory symbol of destiny, denial, and devotion.

And then when you skipped town, temporarily dodged your fate, the car became your problem.

Your problem that was now navigating broken streets and taking detours to avoid another fissure that seemed to have opened up overnight.

That wasn't there a few days ago...

In fact several streets seemed to be inaccessible when they'd just been clear just the other night. And the further you got in your detour, the worse it got, until the road seemed to literally shake and split right beneath your tires.

"What the fuck," you muttered as you swerved around a crack that was actively forming beneath you. "Why do I feel like I've jinxed myself? A lot can happen in one night. Fuck me."

Your headlights flickered and thunder cracked overhead.

And as you rounded another bend, your car, quite literally, died.

It was like a wave, a tangible spark, an electrical overload. The headlights flickered, and the radio turned on of its own volition and wavered to an ear-splitting screech that almost, almost sounded like your name, and then it died. Everything died. An audible power down of the electrical system before your engine sputtered out and your car rolled to a stop on the side of the road by some trees.

You turned the key in the ignition. Once, twice, stepped on the pedal. Nothing.

Until your right hand began to tingle. Burn.

You wrenched your hand off the key and used your other hand to press down into the space between your life and head lines, trying to massage out the pain. It felt...beyond your being. It felt heavy. There was something in there. A weight. Could you dig it out? Dig a hole into your hand and dig the hot burning thing out?

You were a fan of horror movies, of action movies. Media was one of the few indulgences that you were allowed to have growing up. Books and movies instead of friends. Breaks in between learning about real life fantasies and terrors to entertain yourself with made up ones.

It made things a little boring sometimes, sure. You always knew when a jumpscare was about to happen. Could tell when the plot was about to reach a climax. You'd ruined a few movies for Eddie and the guys before. Even spoiled one for your own father on the rare occasion he'd been around.

So it almost felt too predictable that the broken ground just a few yards away from you began to split further. As the smoke emanated from it. As the gate began to pulse and glow ominously, in time with the heavy, burdensome pain in your hand.

As a clawed hand slithered over the edge.

"Well shit," you cursed through gritted teeth. You kicked open the door and rounded on the trunk. You fumbled with the latch with one hand, threw it open and then dug. You'd already fucked around with your weapons the other day when you and the others went vampire hunting and then they'd all been thrown back in haphazardly.

You needed a stake, a knife, something.

"Least if I die here in Hawkins, I don't need to get another car."

A crucifix got tucked in the waistband of your jeans. The revolver loaded with silver bullets shoved back there too--what gun safety?--and you'd managed to shove the blade of a knife between your teeth to hold for a second, when you were assaulted by a cacophony of sound.

Wings flapped heavily, a jarring screech that made your blood run cold, and then the laughter.

It was taunting you.

Heavy footsteps dragged on the pavement, one after the other. Closer and closer.

"Are you hiding from me?" the reedy voice cooed patronizingly. "That's cute. You can't hide. Not when I can feel the fresh blood coursing through your veins."

There was a deep inhaling noise; slightly slurred, like a breath taken through clenched teeth. Then a loud flapping and suddenly the voice was on the other side of the car.

"Delicious."

Your eyes scanned over the contents of the trunk, thoughts swirling as you wondered how you could cause the most damage and buy yourself the most time.

If it was cruel irony that your car would die and you'd be attacked in the middle of the forest after you told Mare that a lot could happen in one night, then this was just some kind of karmic intervention.

The jar of peppers.

You knew it was a weird, unfamiliar thing that she'd just latched onto because she wasn't used to it and it seemed funny, but superstition was real. And a jar full of peppers, garlic, vinegar and holy water--maybe some other mystical whispers from 20 years ago thrown in if you were lucky--would surely do some damage.

You were almost sad Mare wouldn't be here to see it in action.

You grabbed it and shuffled closer to the edge of the trunk, as close as you could to peek to the side and witness him stalk closer to you.

A smug, elongated smile and demonic black eyes just like the others had. His skin was grey and stretched over his bones, and the tattered remnants of a sweater vest and chinos, of all things, adorned his body. One clawed hand was pulled back, as if ready for an attack as he got close enough, as were his wings.

And most prominently, a scar stretched across one cheekbone.

"Oh Fred," you taunted around the blade in your mouth. "I'm not a cheap date."

You shuffled to the side swiftly and threw the jar at him. It shattered upon impact with his head and doused him in the spicy, spiritual mixture, sizzling and burning his skin. Watching it filled you with a sense of triumph; finally, the slightest bit of an upper hand on Kas, who you were sure was behind this whole mishap.

He definitely was.

Fred was not as fragile as Barb had been though, and he already started to heal once the shock wore off, so you knew you had to act fast to finish him off.

Bloodthirsty, the revolver was in your hand before you could stop it and you let off one shot after another. They ripped through him, tore chunks from torso and his wings until you heard the click click click of the empty barrel.

You thought--you hoped--the handful of bullets would be enough and maybe you'd get lucky and puncture his heart.

Unfortunately you were not lucky. It wasn't even luck. You were not a good shot to begin with--as demonstrated by the fucking crossbow--and even if you were pretty ambidextrous, you favored your right hand. Which, thanks to the heavy nagging pain that coursed through it, meant you were at a disadvantage.

Still, Fred faltered and roared in agony as his body expelled the bullets. He tried to flee, but you wouldn't let him. His wings flapped uselessly when it came to flight but he still used them he propelled himself through the trees, with you close on his heels.

Thunder boomed overhead as you ran and it soon began to downpour. The dirt became mud and your sneakers slid as you pivoted and turned, struggling to keep up with him.

Despite being wounded, he would have the advantage. You were only human, despite your abilities. And you were a human that hated running. So all he had to do was flap his wings a little harder, or scurry up the trunk of a tree...and you'd lose him.

You slowed your pace and came to a stop, then noticed...your surroundings seemed familiar.

You wiped the rain from your face and looked around. The trees were less dense here; actually, several had been knocked down entirely, trunks covered in deep scratches and splinters. The forest floor covered in dead leaves. And there was one tree that looked...magical in and of itself. With moss and mushrooms and an assortment of sticks and...yarn.

A shelter against the elements, almost.

You jumped as something brushed against your leg and then you laughed to find a tiny little face looking up at you, entirely unamused at your antics. Big green eyes, whiskers twitching, grey fur damp with the rain; her tail flicked back and forth curiously. This was her kingdom, after all; why were you here?

"Hello," you muttered and wracked your brain for a minute. You'd met this cat before, early on in your relationship with Eddie; he'd taken you out here to meet her and her kittens, to feed them like he did with the other resident cats of Forest Hills. You'd made a joke, thanks to all of the downed trees, that she was some elusive cryptid.

"Don't need to knock down any trees when big, scary metalhead Eddie Munson is bringing you Chicken of the Sea, huh?"

"You wanna get married or something?"

"Fuck you Munson."

Your heart ached at the recollection, at the sweet innocent declaration that...that would never come to pass.

"Lucy," you cooed, basking in that memory. "Queen Lou."

You knelt down and offered your left hand in greeting, but she swiftly dodged and pressed her head into your right hand. The heavy pain and throbbing dissipated almost immediately as she nuzzled and purred. But the pain in your heart remained.

"You out here by yourself?" you asked. You looked around in realization; the trailer park must not have been far off. "Or did you come back here to see what the commotion was? Sorry about that."

Lucy lavished in your attention for a few moments, enjoying your scratches behind her soft, damp ears and then she startled. She turned, hackles raised and you were suddenly on alert too. Wings flapped wetly overhead and she bolted to chase after whatever creature fled.

"Shit," you muttered and began to follow. You might have joked that she was a monster but she was most certainly just a tiny little kitty. Definitely not equipped to fight an...undead bat thing.

But damn, she was quick.

The trees got more and more sparse until you were in the condemned remnants of the Forest Hills Trailer Park itself.

Fuck, it was bleak.

Out of all the damage you had seen in Hawkins, the aftermath of two "earthquakes," this was the worst.

Most of the buildings looked intact just...abandoned. Doors left open and swinging, laundry left to rot on the line. The brightly colored remnants of FEMA markers spraypainted on the sides of the trailers were especially vibrant against the grey sky. The ground was uneven and cracked, great plates of earth tilted this way and that to compensate for the thick, cavernous crack that carved through the center of the park. Soil was overturned and cursed smoke bled into the sky, though the rain kept it from rising too far.

You wondered if the veil between this world and the Upside Down was the thinnest here. This was, after all, the place where Vecna first punctured his way through with his Curse.

A hiss gained your attention and you kept going, following Lucy despite the dread getting larger in your chest. Further into the park until it opened a cavernous maw that bore your heart to the world as you found yourself in front of the Munson's half-destroyed trailer.

The frame of the trailer was shorn apart, walls and siding jagged as the origin point of the gate started in what used to be the living room. Wayne had confided in you, about Chrissy; how he'd found her body, mangled in a way that would forever be burned behind his eyelids.

You hadn't realized at the time that Chrissy had been the vampire from the square. The one who had tried to carry you away. Would it have taken some weight off his mind to know she was...alive? If you could call it that? Did he already know? Or would it add insult to injury knowing this was a worse fate for her?

A soft brrr and your eyes zeroed in on Lucy sitting on the counter in the kitchen, the open mouth of the trailer exposing it to the elements. She watched you for a second before she jumped off the counter and disappeared down the hall leading to Eddie's room.

It was then that the ghosts decided to appear.

You crawled up the side of the trailer, on the half-demolished porch steps and into the kitchen. There the two of you stood, huddled next to the stove, arms around each other as you waited for the water to boil for hot cocoa and marshmallows; so stupidly affectionate after making up from one of a dozen dumb fights. The ghosts disappeared as you passed, and suddenly there was no pan on the stove. There wasn't even a stove anymore. The wall of mugs gone. Even the doors on the cabinets were half-broken.

You continued down the hall, where you could hear your own fists pounding on the side door on that fateful night. After you crawled from the Earth after the tunnels collapsed, the only place you knew you'd find comfort was here. Was with Eddie.

Was that why Kas had chosen to resurrect Billy in such a way? To mirror your own ascent, crawling from Hell? Born anew?

The phantom of Eddie ran out of his bedroom and opened the door for you, and you collapsed against him sobbing. You watched as he held you, soothed you, wiped the dirt off your skin and promised it would all be ok. And as he kissed your forehead, they were gone.

There shouldn't have been electricity, it should have been the first thing FEMA cut off...but a light flickered in the bathroom.

On and off and on and off and on.

On. Off. On. Off. On.

On and off and on and off and on.

You stared at it, felt your throat get tight.

You blinked, hard, and the bulb over the sink exploded.

It wouldn't misfire anymore.

If only you'd have investigated that a little further, just to save yourself the heartache that awaited you in the bedroom.

Because as soon as you stepped over the threshold, you became overwhelmed. This was where you spent so much time together, why wouldn't the ghost be active and abundant here?

Sitting on the floor by the stereo listening to mixtapes. Sleeping, talking, writing, laughing. There was one of you pacing at the foot of the bed. One of him running through the door with a bag of McDonalds French fries for you to share. A set of you in the bed, limbs intertwined, whispering words of devotion as your bodies became one.

You stared at them the longest, eyes burning because you refused to blink.

Once you did they would be gone and you would be alone again. Alone with the person you hated the most in the world: yourself.

The you in your mind would always have her Eddie, but the you here would never have him again.

You ached to be back there.

What you wouldn't give to be back there, back there with him. Turn back the clock and say damn Hawkins, damn destiny, damn the world. You would sooner rip out your own heart than follow Gabriel to the tunnels that night in November of 84. The words, the oath, the fire, the dirt. Why did you go there when you could have come back here?

You could hear Gabriel's stupid voice echoing in your head, words that he'd repeated too many times after you'd ask him why, when, how you could come back to Hawkins, back to Eddie.

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret. Worldly sorrow brings death."

"Then I would rather die," you hissed now, aloud, as you watch the ghosts reach the pinnacle of pleasure and melt into each other. A great, glorious being with two heads and four arms, four legs, and one heart.

You held the tears at bay for as long as you could until you shut your eyes. The ghosts began to evaporate around you, whispered words faded into the din of the rain outside, until it was silent.

Until you were alone again.

You didn't want to open your eyes again, didn't want to face reality again, but when you did...you found a pile of cassettes on the ground.

You kicked them, gently, nudged them with your toe. Almost as though you expected them to disappear too.

And when they didn't, you knelt down and looked through them.

You should have been looking for Lucy. And further still, you should have been trying to find Fred before he healed too much and disappeared back through the gate, if he hadn't already. But curiosity got the better of you.

But no one was here to judge you. Wayne wasn't here to catch you snooping, wanting the last little remnants of Eddie that you could latch onto before you walked away and left the trailer to rot. Sure, you had asked Wayne and you could ask him more, but it was the little things that he didn't know, the secret things that were only between the two of you, that you hungered for again.

So you moved around his room and dug through the little piles of abandoned objects, blew off layers of dust, and scraped the tiniest bit of psychometric energy off them and directly into your heart.

Eddie screamed "this is music" when Robin called his tapes shit, that he needed real music. How many times had he said that to you when you'd attempt to put one of your tapes in?

A loaf of bread that, now, was just a moldy, desiccated mess. But a brush of your fingers over the plastic brought an Eddie sitting on the floor quietly tinkering away on an original song and getting hungry for PB&J.

Postcards and posters and random bits ripped out from magazines all scattered across his dresser and then tucked into the side of the mirror...two tickets.

Ozzy Osbourne with Special Guest Metallica Tuesday April 8, 1986 7:30PM Market Square Arena

Tears built up in your eyes as you ran your fingers over the faded ink.

The tickets being handed over to Eddie and Jeff who then started screaming on the sidewalk in front of the box office, how Eddie refused to let Jeff keep his ticket.

"Nah man, I'll keep them safe. With my life."

Talking about it to Wayne once a week, how they'd have to miss a set at the Hideout but it was ok. How often did you get to see Ozzy and Metallica?

Him practicing songs from the new album every night in front of the mirror, every night for 3 weeks since its release all while staring at the tickets and his eyes drifted up to...

You frowned, and concentrated.

Eddie's eyes drifted up from the tickets to...

You moved your hand off the tickets until you touched the glass of the mirror; something had been there.

Eddie walked into his bedroom in a daze, clutching a tiny piece of paper in his hand. No...not paper. It was stiffer...card stock. There were tears in his eyes, but a smile on his lips.

You gasped and pulled your hand from the mirror. You immediately dug into your pocket and pulled the same piece of cardstock, the one you'd fumbled with at Rick's when you didn't want Wayne to know you were snooping. It had come from here.

No.

It had come from you.

You hadn't tried to pick emotions from it before, hadn't tried to lift memories, but now you were primed for it. Images flashed before your eyes.

Of you standing in front of a drugstore Christmas card display debating yourself for the perfect one, agonizing as you sat at the little desk in a motel room wondering just what to write. Could you tell him where you'd been? How much you missed him? Beg him to wait for you, again? To keep waiting?

In the end you knew you couldn't say anything, just a heart.

Of Eddie eagerly opening the card, recognizing your handwriting and the little butt-shaped heart you drew inside. Of his hope that he poured onto the paper that you hadn't abandoned him, hadn't forgotten him. He'd just have to wait. He'd wait forever. And every day he'd kiss his fingers and strum the strings of his beloved guitar and then press those same fingers to the cartoonish little mug of hot cocoa on the front of your card.

Wayne had said he'd taken things that meant the most to Eddie when he left...t-shirts, books, his guitar...and not the concert tickets...but your card.

You thought back to a card of your own. Sent to you from your father at Christmas. The beautiful drawing of the Loch Ness monster and his pathetic "Merry Christmas, From Dad" written inside. How irrationally angry you were that he would send you a card, after he'd said such terrible words to you, after he tried to force you to accept fate when he realized he was on the path to failure. You'd ripped the card up.

Now, in this moment...staring at the card that Eddie cherished, one that you'd cowardly sent without even signing...you felt some kind of understanding with your father. For the first time, truly, in your entire life. How much you would give...for a normal life for your loved ones.

And you knew how much stronger than you Eddie was, how patient he could be...how much more love that he had to give. How much more trust and faith he had.

Tears dripped on the card and you quickly wiped them away with the cuff of your jacket.

You were loath to do it, but you shoved the card back in the corner of the mirror where it belonged. You kissed your fingers and pressed it to the front of the card, and for the briefest moment you could feel the Eddie that lived deep inside you smile.

You cleared your throat and went back to digging and you noticed, there on the bed, a book.

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide

Pages were randomly sticking out of it. Just like the books that had been at Rick's. You helped yourself as you began flipping and your thoughts fondly turned back to your own long sessions ahead of Halloween, when Eddie had convinced you to join Hellfire for one night only. Character creation and the mechanics of the game. He'd told you stories of monsters and villains like Xanathar and Vecna and...

"Wait," you paused. "Vecna."

Sure, Dustin had told you that Vecna was Henry Creel. But you'd never questioned the origin of the name. Villains gave themselves dumb names all the time. Like Batman's Calendar Man or Mad Max's Lord Humungus.

You flipped frantically, page after page after page...eyes scanning over unfamiliar words haphazardly. You didn't care about hit points and spells and experience, you needed to find one thing.

One thing that was on the tip of your tongue, the corner of your mind, you knew you knew it but you didn't know where...until now.

The Sword of Kas

"When Vecna grew in power," you read aloud. "He appointed the most evil and ruthless lieutenant to serve as his bodyguard and righthand. That henchman was the vampire lord Kas. For a long time Kas faithfully served the lich but legend says that the destruction of Vecna was brought on by Kas and the world was made brighter thereby. Son of a BITCH."

You picked up the book and threw it across the bedroom, where it crashed into a lamp and fell to the floor.

You backed out of the bedroom and back down the hall, into the kitchen. The wind whipped heavily outside and you knew you needed to find Lucy and leave...go back to the Harringtons and demand an answer but...how could you face the reality outside of those walls?

You needed a minute...to process all of it.

You stood over the sink, stared at the scummy drain and the basin filled with half-decaying leaves that had blown in.

Your heart was pounding, ears ringing, and your left arm started hurting, hand stiff and tingling where you clutched the edge of the counter; it could have been a heart attack but it could also have been everything that you'd been told since coming to Hawkins had been...what...a lie?

And here you were after a week and you had to start from square one again.

"It's ok, it's ok," you clenched your eyes shut and muttered to yourself. "It's not starting back at square one. You already know some things. So what? So what? So what his name isn't really Kas; you never knew someone named Kas in town anyway, did you really think that it was a real name?

"Of course you did. So why did they lie? The kids...Dustin...he must have come up with the name because...duh vampire. Makes sense. But then why wouldn't they tell you who Kas really was?"

You opened your eyes and stared into the sink again, then off to the side, sliding your eyes along the grout lines to help you calm yourself.

You were like a ticking time bomb of emotion. The...anger and sadness and mourning and need...all churning in your body. You were being selfish; these people, your former neighbors, had seen a lot. And here you'd come into town with your...Knight of the Holy Order spiel, spouting off how you'd be here to help and so far everything had truly...truly not worked in your favor.

"It's because I'm not trustworthy." You clenched a fist and hit the counter. "I know that."

What had you done? But...kill one of their friends and do whatever you wanted, go wherever you wanted...kept secrets. That's why you left the house earlier because you needed some space. And so did they. You being right under their nose, fucking up every step of the way, wasn't gonna do anything to earn their trust.

"And if they just trusted me, then I could help."

"And who's going to help you?" came a soft voice behind you.

You jumped and turned and saw her, hanging upside down from the jagged edge of the roof. Her hair cascaded down in a curtain to the floor, all perfect golden curls with a copper tint.

"Hello angel," she said in a long, breathy, drawn-out taunt, and then in a feat of impressive acrobatics, swung her body off the roof, flipping herself to stand upright.

She was a cheerleader after all.

"Nice to finally meet you too," you greeted calmly. "Chrissy."

She looked different than she had in the square, less bat-like, less creature-like, unless that was just your imagination now being so close to her. A strange mix of unsettling monster and conventional beauty. Her limbs were still long and a little in-human, but her pallor was less...dead. Her wings dragged along the ground behind her as she took one step towards you, then another. Her demon-like eyes, just like Fred's, stuck on you as you backed along the counter.

She grinned, all pretty, pouty lips and sharp, deadly teeth.

You mentally calculated how you could defend yourself if she decided to attack you here. The knife you had...fuck it was somewhere. Had you dropped it when Lucy had shown up? Regardless, all you had left was the crucifix tucked into your jeans and...yourself. Your powers. The thunder and lightning and rain still falling outside would be an easy conductor for a some kind of defensive play if you needed to.

The gate...also was an option. Crack the earth open further and swallowed her whole. But that wasn't a route you truly wished to explore just yet.

"You're thinking naughty things," Chrissy sing-singed. "Mean things. I'm not gonna hurt you. Not like the others want me to. Why do you want to hurt me?"

"You've hurt a lot of people," you explain. "Your master has."

"Master," she closed her eyes and stopped in her tracks for a moment. "He likes that. Master of Puppets, I'm pulling your strings. Yeah he likes that."

"Yeah? Nice to know he's happy."

"See?" she held her hands--claws--out to you. "We both want him to be happy. We can work together."

"Did you lose the ability to understand sarcasm when you died?" you snarked at her. Her smile dropped and her cheeks twitched. "He's a monster. He's a villain. He's killing people."

"He doesn't like what you're saying about him."

"Tough."

"You should be nicer, after all he's done."

"I'm not nice," you spit at her.

You'd shuffled to the edge of the kitchen but when you turned to try and make a getaway down the hall, you were immediately stopped by a solid wall of muscle. Clawed hands grabbed your biceps and pushed you away, then a mouth full of jagged teeth roared in your face, spittle and blood spraying you thoroughly.

If Chrissy felt more human and Fred more monstrous, Patrick was somewhere in the middle. His jaw was still slightly dislocated, from Vecna's curse or his own lack of care while feeding, you weren't sure. He was lithe and long, like a dancer, and he was strong. He turned you back to face Chrissy, and gripped your arms tightly; you could feel his claws puncture your jacket, your skin, deep enough you were sure he drew blood.

"You can't run," he hissed. "Don't run."

"Don't fight it," Chrissy continued, desperately. "Why do you fight it? He just wants you--"

"Wants me dead," you finished for her.

"He wants you," Patrick repeated, grip getting tighter. "He needs you."

Chrissy lunged for you then, one claw coming to your throat, the other gripping your jaw. You closed your eyes and tried to focus; you needed to get them off of you, needed to...expel them. You listened to the rolling thunder outside, trying to ignore the raspy hissing breaths in your ears.

If you could just...time it right...you could strike at least one of them with lightning.

You listened to the rumble and thought about an ocean...and...sea monsters.

You thought about Odysseus crossing the strait of Messina and encountering Scylla and Charybdis. A decision similar to yours right now; an adventure led astray that led to an impossible decision. Which path could he take that would cause the least damage? Which path could you? Strike Patrick and surely Chrissy would snap your neck; strike Chrissy and Patrick would tear out your throat.

Shit, even Odysseus had a fig tree to cling to.

You wracked your brain, tried to stay calm.

Until Chrissy's hands turned gentler, filled with care. Her thumb caressed your chin, then your cheek. The claw around your throat loosened, and she cupped your face in both hands.

"I feel what lurks," she hissed, breath fanning across your skin. "In your lusting heart."

"I hope you have a heart, because I'm gonna drive a stake through it," you spat at her.

Her fingers pressed into your face, punishingly, and then went soft again. She chuckled, deeply; not like the simpering giggle she'd given before. Something raspy from within her chest.

"You're funny." Chrissy continued, but there was a rumble in her voice now. Deep and dark and secret. "Denial...not just a river in Egypt. How's that for a joke? Why did you come here? Why did you come back?"

It wasn't Chrissy anymore.

"It's personal," you told her.

"Isn't it? It's just between us."

It was Kas.

Except Kas wasn't Kas anymore he was...something. And your mind bent trying to make sense of just who was on the other side of Chrissy's mind.

You felt her get closer to you and Patrick's grip on you tighten; the metaphorical rock and hard place that you'd been considering closing in on you. Your decision gone; you'd have to destroy them both.

But Chrissy's fingers kept up their gentle ministrations. Over your cheeks, then your brow, down the slope of your nose, over your lips. And if you ignored the rasp of her claws along your skin, you could almost imagine another set of hands. Doing what they always did. Soothing your thoughts, bringing you joy and comfort and love.

And surrounded by all of the memories, all of the ghosts that lived in the walls of the trailer it was overwhelming. A tear trailed down your cheek as you thought of him.

"Shhhh" she whispered, her own mouth close to yours now. She kissed away the tear as it rolled nearby. "Don't cry. How long?"

"It's personal," you repeated, but your mind flashed to the ghosts in the bed earlier, the memory of the two of you on a rainy October afternoon just like this one.

You hadn't thought of...another person like that since Eddie. You'd only ever thought of him after you were gone, and especially after he was. It was a self-imposed abstinence, but...well shit you were grieving. For yourself, for him. Your goal wasn't...pleasure...it was...Heaven. And heaven only ever was where he was, so if he was dead, so was your pleasure.

You knew that wasn't what Kas meant.

"Three years?"

But maybe it was.

"It's personal."

"I told you, it's just between us. How personal can it be?"

You grit your teeth, and turned your head away as best you could. The hands moved down your face, to your neck, fiddled with the remnant of Barb's bite. There was a growling between Chrissy and Patrick, but Kas continued.

"You want to be here."

"I don't."

"In Hawkins? Yes." The chuckling returned. "Yes you do."

The thumb ran slowly over the bite and you shivered, each ridge tender. There was a soft tsking noise, and then kisses up your cheek.

"I'm sorry." A lick over your skin, tongue flicking at the end. "But you're lying to yourself. You want to be here. You've been thinking about it since you set foot in the city limits; you're practically screaming it. Broadcasting it for all of Hawkins to hear. You're home."

"I..." Where was the lie in that? You had thought it, the minute you'd driven in town. You were home, in Hawkins. It was your home in a broad sense. This trailer was home. Eddie was home.

You hiccuped and scrunched your face up.

"Shhh," came a soothing sound, kisses over each of your eyes, just like Eddie would when you were upset.

"Get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head. I'm here. With you." You could hear the little grin in his voice. "But you're here, with me. You give a little, I give a little. A little back and forth. A partnership; we're both familiar with that aren't we? It's been a while...but it's just like riding a bike."

The hands moved...down...down...to the button of your jeans. Soon they were open and down further still, claws rasped against skin and cotton.

"I can give you everything you want. Everything you left behind."

There was that chuckle again, from Patrick this time, who pulled you closer against him, your back along the length of him. You could feel every limb accommodate the differences in your physiology. Vampire and human, unholy and divine. He began moving against you, length hardening into a prominent ridge against the softness of your rear. And Chrissy along your front, leaving sweet kisses and caresses, her fangs dragged over your skin intermittently as Kas continued his little speech, made his offer.

"But that means I get what I want too."

But which one was Kas? Were they both Kas? Were...

You couldn't think, the hands shifted just enough to play with your folds. You'd already been thinking of pleasure and Eddie, everything you'd lost and everything that could have been waiting for you. You were only human, of course you were going to respond.

It was a physical reaction...only a physical reaction, but...a little pleasure never hurt.

You nodded and fingers dipped, played with your clit, dragged your slickness up from your weeping, wanting hole to make it as sweet for you as they could.

Your head rolled back and rested against Patrick who had started breathing heavily behind you, huffing and heaving, a whispered so good, so sweet, as he used you.

"Ah but you already said it," there was a smirk. "I want you? I have you."

You had said that, hadn't you?

You thought of...god you could hardly think, but you thought of that last lazy morning together before you left. You late to work, Eddie late to school. He was behind you, face buried in your neck, fingers buried in your pussy as you both chased a high. A game of just enough but not quite too much followed by luscious words that helped get you to the edge together. He always told you how sweet you were. He liked to...

Fingers curled within you but bent in an oddly inhuman way that still abused your clit and brought you further along. You inadvertently clenched as the claws scratched and stung, and they both froze and hissed for a moment.

"Mine," they said in tandem, and then the movement became harder.

Rocking bodies, thrusting and bucking, fingers sliding in and out of your tight slit, palm grinding on your clit both delicately and punishingly, until a single tear became a river, and the storm outside emanated from you instead. You clenched your hands as Chrissy chased your high, as she pushed you over the precipice, as she stopped focusing on your channel and only focused on working your pleasure out of you for as long as she could. Legs weak, you arched away from Patrick and he chased you as well, pistoned his hips against yours until his own release followed.

You heard a distant clang of something falling to the floor, and your eyes snapped open.

And it was like a switch was flipped.

Patrick pulled you against him and Kas was gone; only a monster remained. A hungry one. And those fangs that had roared in your face just minutes easier buried themselves deep in your neck, the good side. They ripped into you and pulled, mouthful after mouthful of blood. It was a punishing kind of pain, especially with the remnants of an orgasm still coursing through you.

Chrissy was next, the gentleness in her gone, her hand, still slick, grabbed your chin yo keep you steady and with a feral grin she dove in and tore through the partially healed bite from Barb to take her own fill.

Their arms held you still while your body got weaker.

In your hazy mind you wondered if it had all been a trap. If Kas had wanted to take you out this way, obstacle removed by way of temptation.

You thought you heard your name.

There was a rumble and an unholy screech and before everything went dark, Chrissy and Patrick both ripped themselves away from your neck. Your blood splashed on the floor and dripped from their sharp mouths as they hissed at something.

But you couldn't keep your eyes open.

You were lost.

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”  ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Next Chapter: Via Domus

#aasb #as above so below #eddie munson #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x oc #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fic #kas!Eddie #vampire!Eddie #tw: dubcon #tw: violence