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"Where the fuck are you?" came Corey's voice through the Byers' phone.
Sam sighed to herself, feeling guilty for how worried her cousin sounded. "I'm fine, Core. I'm at the Byers' house. It's a long story, and it's really hard to explain, but I'm... I'm fine."
"That sounded like a lie."
"Because it was," Sam deadpanned. "Did anything important happen while I was gone?"
"Well, you're at Will's, so I assumed you're filled in on him."
Sam eyed her drawings of the vines with an unpleasant look. "You have no idea," Sam snorted humorlessly. "But I'm talking about homework. Did I miss any important lessons?"
The line was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"Are you serious right now? Will's having episodes of a shadow monster in another realm, and you're worried about your homework still?"
"I don't want to fall behind on my grades!" snapped Sam, and then she saw Joyce send Sam a worried look, so Sam exhaled and calmed herself. "Also, they're not episodes. There's something more going on."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Sam looked around anxiously, before she opted on saying, "Like I said, it's a long story. I'll explain when I get home."
"And when is that gonna be? My mom left for a work trip this morning, so she won't notice, but my dad's still here being an ass. You're dead if he finds out you're missing."
"Corey, please," Sam began growing frustrated with the questioning. "I really don't know. Just cover for me, okay? I'm way more worried about Will right now than your stupid dad."
"Then something really must be wrong."
"Yeah," scoffed Sam, more-so to herself than anything. "It is."
The line went quiet again, and for some reason, Sam couldn't help herself from asking—
"How's Max?"
She could hear Corey suck in a sharp breath from the other line.
"Um, mad," Corey said, sounding disturbed. "Really mad. Not at you, though, somehow. You're like an innocent, little puffball, apparently."
Sam, for the first time in a few days, found herself smiling slightly at the information, despite being told Max was thoroughly mad with her other friends.
Then, for no reason, Corey added, "Justin was asking around why the chief took you out of school early."
Sam's eyebrows raised to their own accord, feeling a great deal of shock at the information. She didn't think Justin wanted to, like, publicly associate with Sam; let alone ask her cousin with the horrible, scary reputation about her.
"Really?" she wondered, not really believing it, to be honest.
"Yeah," snorted Corey. Then, sounding very amused, he said, "Lucas told him to shut up and mind his business."
I'm gonna kill Sinclair when I see him next, Sam thought immediately, then remembered they were dealing with much bigger things right now. She sighed, deciding not to press the topic further.
"Well, that's just great," Sam commented sarcastically. "I have to go."
"Bye, Sammy. You owe me for covering for you."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bye, Core."
Sam hung the phone up after that, trying to bite down a fond smile at what she and Corey's relationship had transformed into. Just a year ago, they didn't even talk to one another, and when they did, it was just Corey bullying her. Now, the bullying was lighthearted.
"Everything okay with your cousin?" Joyce asked from the kitchen.
Sam turned around to face her, a little surprised because she forgot Joyce was there. "Oh, yeah, he's fine. I just wanted to let him know I wasn't arrested. That's more of his thing and not mine."
"Oh," Joyce blinked, unsure of how to respond at that.
"Yeah," Sam smiled back innocently. "Is it alright if I head into Will's room?"
Joyce's taken aback face softened, and she grinned back at Sam. "Of course, honey. The boys should still be in there."
"The boys," plural, because the house was no longer only occupied with Sam, Joyce, and Will. After school, Mike had stopped by, and was quickly filled in on everything that had happened in just a few hours. Sam was honestly afraid to talk with him, because she didn't want to hear anything about these vines that she accidentally drew.
Since night had fallen, Will had since put a cotton grew sweatshirt on his skinny frame. But he wasn't joking about wanting everything cold; just that loose sweatshirt was enough to get a pool of sweat formed at the nape of his neck.
When Sam entered, Will was conceding to the questions plaguing Mike's mind.
"It's like — It's like I feel what the shadow monster's feeling," Will was saying as Mike ambled around and bizarrely examining Sam's murky drawings littering the walls, twisting and twining like the intricate roots of a grand tree. Sam, not wanting to be looked at by Mike, sat on one side of Will, but not too close, so that he wouldn't feel suffocated. "See what He's seeing."
"Like in the Upside Down?"
"Some of Him is there," Will explained, disturbed eyes looking out at nothing as Mike rounded around the bed to where Sam and Will were facing. "But some of Him is here, too."
"Here, like... like in this house—?"
"Like everywhere," Sam interjected, glancing away from her strange etchings on the ceiling when an uncomfortable feeling began to twist in her stomach. Her eyes rested on Will, and she found that the boy was already looking at her. "You can feel it, too, can't you? The cold?"
Will gave no response and turned his head forwards again. The sweat had lathered across his entire torso at this point and there wasn't an inch of his sweatshirt collar that wasn't soaked through. "It's like — It's like He's reaching into Hawkins more and more, and the more he spreads, the more... connected to him I feel."
"And the more you see these now-memories," Mike put together, taking a spot next to the other side of Will so he was in between them.
"At first I just felt it in the back of my head. I didn't even really know it was there," Will rasped, placing his hand at the nape of his neck as he continued, voice strained with emotion. "It's like — when you have a dream, and you can't remember it unless you think really hard — it was like that. But, now it's like — now I remember. I remember all the time."
Sam recognized that quiver in his voice, the shaking of his leg, and they were blinding signs of an incoming panic attack of Will's. She frowned, feeling awful that her poor best friend was continuously being dragged through the mud, time and time again.
"Maybe... maybe that's good," Mike said softly and carefully. He ignored the judgmental, bewildered glare Sam was sending him, and the derisive snort Will let out.
"'Good'?"
Mike softened even more as he faced the boy sitting in between them, continuing with, "Just think about it, Will. You're like a spy now — a superspy, spying on the shadow monster. If you know what He's seeing and feeling... maybe that's how we stop Him. Maybe all this is happening for a reason."
It was quiet for a moment, and Sam almost went to reprimand Mike, but then Will spoke in that timid voice he had always used when he was younger every time his father entered a room. "You really think so?"
"Yeah," Mike nodded, using that soft tone he adopted while trying to calm Holly down from a bo-bo or a nightmare. "Yeah, I really do."
Sam stayed quiet and allowed Mike to take over. She had forgotten at some point that just because Will was damaged — just because he was sick, it didn't change the fact he was still a kid. Sam and Mike had grown up too quickly for various and differing reasons, but the entire Party had always been more fragile with Will, and she should have known that it wouldn't change just because Will had picked up a scar or two.
She didn't really know why they were always so gentle with him, even before the events of last year, but Sam supposed Will was just the kind of person you wanted to take care of.
Will's eyes, laced with fear, wandered over to his dark drawing of the shadow monster, made in only blacks and sharp edges. Sam and Mike followed his gaze when Will inquired, "What if He figures out we're spying on Him? What if He spies back?"
"He won't," Mike assured, jaw set in that familiar determination that meant he was about to say something outrageously stubborn or absolutely illogical.
Will met Mike's stare. "How do you know—?"
"He won't," reiterated Mike firmly. "We won't let him."
And it would've sounded convincing, if it weren't for that feeling in Sam's stomach that said the opposite.
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Sam shifted once again, desperately trying to fall asleep in Jonathan Byers' bed later that night, but having no such luck.
Usually when Sam stayed over here, Sam slept on the couch, which was not invasive of anyone's personal space or private rooms. But, right now, the Byers' couch was covered up by Sam's accidental drawings of the vines.
Now, Sam felt awkward as ever sleeping over in a seventeen-year-old boy's room, who wasn't even here to consent to the matter. Not only that, but she was too nervous to even blink. The knowledge of her drawings kept her awake, and now, Sam feared that if she fell asleep, she would accidentally draw anything else like she had done that night at Will's.
It was horrible to think, but Sam was scared because she now believed Will's house was cursed. It seemed as if only bad things happened here, and how was Sam supposed to sleep with that paranoia?
Sam groaned, figuring there was no way she could get to sleep tonight. Jonathan's digital clock already read 2:00 AM, so she was basically a lost cause. She sat up in the bed, setting her back against the headboard.
The door to Jonathan's room creaked open slowly, putting Sam on high alert. She flinched back at the sight of dark, blob-by figure was standing in the doorway.
"Who is it?" Sam squinted, not having contacts or glasses in her aid right now. It was also dark, so she was basically a mole rat right now.
"You don't kn...?" Mike's voice rasped judgmentally, before realizing Sam was, essentially, blind. "Oh, right, the contacts. Um, it's Mike."
"No, I thought you were Joyce," Sam said sarcastically, because she knew the sound of Mike's voice. "What are you doing in here, Mike? It's 2 in the morning."
She was gonna assume Mike shrugged, for no reason in particular except that she was accustomed to his mannerisms after so many years. He said, "Couldn't sleep. Figured you couldn't, either."
"Well, you were right," Sam sighed. She shifted over to one side of the bed, asked, "Do you want to sit for a little?"
"Sure," he whispered, and the blob figure grew bigger as Mike walked closer. He got close enough that Sam could actually see him, and he climbed under the blanket sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Sam.
For a little bit, that's all it was. Sitting. Both of them were silent as they stared out into the darkness, contemplating everything that's been going on.
Mike's eyes were trained onto Sam's drawings that not even Jonathan's room was safe from.
"You really drew... all of this?" he asked, breaking the silence.
Sam couldn't see her drawings right now, but she didn't even need to. Quietly, she said, "I did."
She was stiff beside Mike, already able to tell where this conversation was going. Sam was content with silence, hoping Mike wouldn't press further, but it was futile because Mike was speaking up again.
"You know what I'm going to say—"
"I do," Sam cut him off in a strained, quiet voice. "So don't. Okay? I don't want to hear it. You're wrong."
"Sam—"
"You're wrong, Mike," said Sam, leaving no room for argument, not even caring about how childish and stubborn she was being. "There's nothing... different... about me, okay?"
Frustrated, Mike snapped, "Do you even see this, Sam?" gesturing to the drawings lining the room.
"No, actually," she answered, just to be a little shit. "I don't have my contacts in."
"Sam."
"I don't have any superior abilities, Mike," Sam said, growing frustrated herself. "That's it. End of discussion. This is all just..."
"What?" Mike asked, challenging Sam to ramble further. "What is it, Samantha?"
Sam glared at Mike in the dark. "It's a dumb coincidence, Michael."
"Will said your nose was bleeding."
"I don't want to hear it."
And maybe she was being childish. Maybe she was being stubborn and rigid and close-minded, but she was not going to entertain the idea that Sam — Samantha Hughes — had fucking superpowers. There was absolutely nothing special about her in the slightest, and she was nothing like Eleven. Sam didn't had powers. End of debate.
Mike exhaled tiredly, shaking his head at his friend. "I just... I don't get you."
Huffing out a laugh that was everything but humorous, Sam said, "Yeah, well, that makes both of us."
And then, well, now that Sam was looking at him... Mike was different, too. He looked different. Like the past events of the year were really weighing down on him. It was something Sam had been noticing about him, but there was never that good of a time to comment on it. So, Sam figured, what better time than 2:00 AM in Jonathan Byers' room?
"What about you?" questioned Sam, really seeing Mike, now.
Mike blinked, taken aback. "Me? What do you mean?"
Sam sighed, shrugging herself because she didn't know what to specify, not just yet. "I mean, like... Are you okay?"
And Mike clearly wasn't expecting that. Mike clearly hadn't been asked that in a while. A part of Sam wondered if anyone had apart from Sam on Christmas Eve last year. That was a thought that made her frown.
"'Am I o...?'" Mike muttered, trying to form tangible words. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?"
Sam didn't really know how to go about this question, worried that if she said the wrong thing, Mike would retreat back into his head and put his guard back up. He didn't usually put his guard up around Sam, but as they've been getting older, it's been different.
"I just," Sam's hands flexed, head turning to him, "you've been different, lately. Or, we've been different, lately. And I don't want you to feel like you have to... hide... anything from me. I'm here for you, okay?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Mike snapped, much more defensive than he should have been. He was stiffening up again, and Sam internally cursed herself for getting Mike like this.
Sam sighed. "If there's anything you are hiding from... I can help you, Mike."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mike said stubbornly, and Sam accepted the fact he wouldn't be speaking to her about this tonight, if ever. "And, look, it's late. I should get to bed."
"Mike—"
"Goodnight, Sam."
Sam deflated down into Jonathan's bed, sending Mike a sad look. Defeatedly, she said, "'Night, Mike."
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"Sam," Will came bursting into Jonathan's room when night passed, startling the girl that hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. She sat up, squinting at Will's frail figure. He said, "Something's wrong."
And, shit.
So if you were wondering why Sam was jumping out of Jonathan's bed, hastily putting her contacts back in (because thankfully Sam brought her contact case filled with contact solution in her school bag that was at Will's), and heading into the Byers' living room with an alert Will and Mike, that was why.
They found Joyce sitting crisscross in the middle of the empty living room, their house phone moved to right next to her. It almost seemed like Joyce was waiting for something, or maybe even someone, with the faraway look in her eyes.
"Mom?" Will tried, but Joyce didn't seem to be listening to him. "Mom?" he attempted again, but still, Joyce was not attentive right now. So Will walked forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, and repeated, "Mom?"
Joyce gasped out of it, flinching around to meet Will's disturbed gaze. "Yeah?" she questioned worriedly.
"I saw Him," Will said, with an unstable edge in his voice.
Eyebrows creasing, Joyce asked, "You saw who, baby?"
"Hopper," said Will, and Sam felt her heart drop, because she not Joyce had seen Hopper since he ominously let the house after figuring out the vines. "I think he's in trouble. I think he's going to die."
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Will ransacked his room, looking for any more possible drawings that Sam might have made that night she stayed over at his house. Unfortunately, there weren't any; none that fit what Will was looking for, at least.
Sam, Mike, and Joyce watched as Will sat at his desk, grabbing the crayons Sam had used preciously. He taped a few thin, sheets of paper together, and began drawing on them as a collective.
When he was done, it looked like he'd made a large, intersection of sorts, where all the vines met in one, big hub. He dropped the navy crayon, eyeing his creation finally.
Joyce picked up the drawing that scarily matched Sam's exact art style. She wondered, "Is this where you saw him? I-Is this where you saw Hopper?"
"I think so," Will nodded. "Yeah."
Joyce began looking for where Will's drawing fit with all of Sam's drawings, and Sam and Mike tried helping her find it, too. The three of them split up, searching every inch of the house for where it could fit. Joyce was in the living room, and Mike was in the kitchen, so Sam thought it best to look through the smaller rooms. Sam had deducted it wasn't in the bathroom, Joyce's room, or Jonathan's room when she heard—
"Here!" Mike called out.
Sam sped into the kitchen, watching as Mike pointed right at the fridge eagerly. Joyce came jogging in as well, putting the combined pieces of paper right where Mike had told her to.
It was a perfect fit. A perfect combination of Sam and Will that fit together exactly, correlating in an eerie way.
"Okay, so... so Hopper is here?" Joyce wondered aloud, trying to make sense of it all.
"Yeah," Sam breathed, nodding once. "Now we just need to find out where 'here' is, right?"
"Right."
"Did Hopper say anything?" asked Mike. He clarified, "I mean, before he left?"
Joyce shrugged cluelessly, said, "Uh, some — something about vines?"
"And Will said the vines are spreading and destroying," Sam recalled, not knowing if that would help or not.
Then, right as Sam spoke, the trio heard a car approach in the Byers' front yard, gaining all of their attention.
"Hopper," Joyce muttered hopefully, running to the front window to get a better look. Sam and Mike followed, and while they didn't think it was Hopper, they were curious as to who it could be.
In the paved, dirt path, Sam noted a familiar car that was always parked out of the local Radio Shack.
"Bob?" Joyce wondered at the same time Sam questioned, "Mr. Bob?"
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Bob stared at the state of disarray the Byers household was in. Sam hadn't expected for Joyce to actually let him in the house, but here they were. Sam watched the man nervously, wondering what he was going say about all of... this.
Will had joined them since, baggy sweatshirt no longer drenched in sweat. Now, he, Sam, and Mike stood tentatively behind Joyce and Bob as the latter tried to wrack his thoughts together.
Sam was not expecting Bob to give an interested, "Huh." Then, "Hmm." He glanced behind him to where Sam was. He asked, "You drew all these yourself, kiddo?"
"Uh... Will drew one of the papers, but... yeah," Sam trailed awkwardly.
She didn't really want Bob to know Sam drew any of this. She liked Bob. She didn't want Bob to think she was a psychotic freak, like everyone else did. He was like... an important figure in Sam's life, and now she feared he was gonna hit the gas and drive away.
Bob nodded, and Sam hated that she couldn't read his expression. He turned back to survey the crayon-drawn vines. Curiously, he questioned, "Why, exactly—?"
"Uh, uh," interjected Joyce, right as Sam stiffened up anxiously. Why? was the pressing question at hand. "I told you the rules. No questions. Okay?"
Bob nodded back, although it seemed like he wanted to ask questions. Sam figured that was fair, since he was viewing a very confusing sight.
Joyce started out of the living room as she continued, "We — We just need you to help us figure out what..." She stopped when she realized Bob had yet to follow her, eyes still glued on Sam's abstract drawings. "Bob? Bob?" The man turned around to face his girlfriend, still very puzzled. "Over here!"
So Bob handed his stack of board games, puzzles, and a monochrome, blue Rubik's Cube to Mike before going after Joyce. Everyone joined her in the kitchen to find she had picked up a red crayon, squatted in front of the pages Will had drawn, and was writing a large X onto the intersection.
"We need you to help us figure out where this is," Joyce informed vaguely. Sam hoped poor Bob wasn't too confused.
For some reason, as if it was relevant now, Sam pointed at the particular paper Joyce had just drawn on, and said, "That was the one Will made, Mr. Bob. Not me. So..."
Sam gulped nervously at Mike's incredulous glare directed towards her.
"So it's not important right now," Sam finished awkwardly. "Sorry."
Mike exhaled passive aggressively, but brushed past Sam's additions with, "The objective is find the X."
"Yeah? What's the X? Pirate treasure?" Bob chuckled in amusement, and the only person who joined him was Sam. At the dead silence they both received, the pair stopped laughing, Sam covering her laugh with a poor cough.
"Bob," Joyce started sternly, not finding the joke funny like Sam, "no questions."
"Okay..." muttered Bob, looking back up at all of the obscurely drawn vines. He cleared his throat awkwardly, before reaching for Joyce. "Let me talk to you for a second. Hang on, guys. And girl."
And so Bob brought Joyce into a vacant room, leaving Sam, Mike, and Will in the kitchen. Sam had begun biting her fingernails nervously, wondering what Bob was saying to Joyce.
"What if he thinks I'm crazy?" Sam couldn't help herself from asking. In unison, Mike and Will looked at Sam, knowing looks appearing on their faces. Before either could speak, Sam continued, "What if... he tells someone what I did?"
"Sam—"
"W-What if my uncle finds out—?"
"Sam—"
"Guys, my uncle can't find out, he'll—"
"Sam," Mike said, finally getting her to shut up. Her quivering lip snapped closed, and her hands were shaking faster than before. "Your uncle won't find out. We won't let him."
Will nodded, in agreement with Mike's words. Then, "And so what if you are crazy? Me and Mike know a bit about that."
The two boys shared smiles, and Sam knew there was something about it that Sam didn't understand, or wasn't in on.
"If we're all going crazy," Will continued, "then we'll go crazy together."
"'Crazy together,'" Sam echoed out in a huff. She nodded small, said, "Sure. Yeah. Crazy together."
And then, they heard Bob coming out into the hall.
"Okay, I get it! That's Lake Jordan," Bob exclaimed. Sam peered out from the kitchen to see him pointing towards a circle between blue vines. "And if that's Lake Jordan, then you can probably find..." he snapped his fingers, "yeah, that's Sattler's quarry!"
Sam, Mike, and Will all shared tense looks at the mention of the quarry. Sam stopped peering into the hall and entered back into the kitchen to sit down with Mike and Will. She was aware both of her friends had a bad history with the quarry, and didn't want them to be alone with their thoughts.
"And then if you just follow it naturally," Bob continued, coming into view as he walked into the living room, "it moves to... the Eno River. And there it is! That's the Eno, do you see it?"
Joyce tilted her head and squinted, not quite seeing it.
"Okay, so, the lines aren't roads. But they act like roads," rambled Bob, stumbling into the kitchen where a bewildered Sam, Mike, and Will were. "And they act like roads 'cause when you follow 'em, you'll see they don't go over water. And that's the giveaway. That's the giveaway. Ha!"
Everyone stared at Bob, who had figured it out, but hadn't shared the conclusion with the rest of the group. The kids still sat, waiting patiently, while Joyce stood, rather impatiently.
"Don't you get it? It's not a puzzle, it's a map! It's a map of Hawkins!"
Mike and Will stared at Sam, who's mouth was slightly agape in shock. That's what she'd drawn? A map of Hawkins? Why?
Bob huffed out a laugh, looking from the vines, and to the unstable blonde girl at the round, kitchen table. He asked, "Right, Sam?"
But Sam was too freaked out to give him an answer.
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"All right. I'm three point six inches, what do you got?!" Bob yelled across the house as they tried to find the X — the original objective to this whole ordeal.
"I'm not sure!" Mike shouted back. "What about you, Sam?!"
"Hold on!" she called, running through the hall with the measuring tape in hand. Everyone continued yelling at each other — back and forth throughout the house — trying to measure from distance to distance.
Sam ran to the living room, leaning over the couch to Lake Tippecanoe. "Twenty-one feet, four inches!"
"What about Tippecanoe to Danford Creek?" Joyce asked, tapping on the lake from the map.
"W-Where's Danford?" Sam stammered, shaking her head in confusion.
"The dining room!" Will called, the girl running over towards him and standing on her tippy toes to measure it.
"Sixten feet ten inches."
"How about Danford to Jordan?" Bob asked.
Sam groaned, throwing her hands down. "Mr. Bob, my arms are getting tired."
"Yeah," Joyce agreed, looking down at the map before her, "it's gotta be enough."
"It's not. It's really not."
Sam sighed, rolling back up the tape, then walking over to where everyone else was. The three kids leaned on the table while Bob and Joyce argued like a married couple.
"Can't you just figure it out?" Joyce wondered impatiently.
Bob shrugged, said, "Well, it's hard. The ratio isn't exactly one-to-one. I mean, if you're twisting my arm — and you are twisting my arm — I would say that the X is... maybe... a half mile southeast of Danford?"
Joyce breathed out in relief, thanking him multiple times and kissing his cheek. She grabbed the map and started out the kitchen.
Sam, Mike, and Will looked at each other, before going after Joyce, leaving a confused Bob behind.
"What? Are we... we really going?"
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All of them were riding in Joyce's car, Bob in the passenger seat with the map and Joyce driving. Sam sat in the back with Will to her right and Mike on the left.
The moon had risen now, and daylight was lost. The sky painted itself with dark purples and blues, splattered with constellations from the stars, and the moon stood in the sky, welcoming everyone who stood under it with its light.
They had ended up driving around farms near the outskirts of Hawkins. Only grass and decayed pumpkin patches were in sight.
"There's nothing," said Mike, after a long while of aimless driving. "There's nothing here."
Joyce sighed, frustrated with the fact Mike was right. To Bob, she asked, "Are... Are we close?"
"We're in the vicinity," Bob answered.
"What's that mean," questioned Joyce exasperatedly tired, "'the vicinity'—?"
"It means we're close. I don't know. It's not precise," Bob continued he and Joyce's back-and-forth.
Joyce exhaled sharply, said, "But we did all that work!"
"I told you," started Bob, "the scale ratio is not exactly one-to-one. We needed to take—"
"Turn right!" Will gasped, making Sam jump.
Joyce glanced at Will from her rearview mirror, before looking back at the road. Confused, she asked, "What?"
"I saw Him," Will said, voice filled with alarm.
His mother's eyebrows creased, face screwing up in fear. "What, wher—?"
"Not here, in my now-memories!"
Bob turned to face Will now from the passenger seat. "In your what?"
"Turn right!" Will yelled imperatively.
Before they knew it, Joyce was swerving the car, sending them all jolting left while the car flew right. Will was laying on Sam laying on Mike gripping the seat and headrest for stability.
They all screamed as Joyce sped straight into the farm's sign driven into a large hay bale. Broken wood and stray straw went flying as they all feared they would crash.
Joyce slammed on the gas, stopping her car in front of a police truck. She quickly looked back in the kids, checking to see if they were okay.
"Are you guys okay?" she panted, breathing heavily like the three kids in the back seat.
Sam's eyes were screwed shut, though she nodded, and it was evident she was lying. Mike breathed out a shaky confirmation. In sync, Sam and Mike looked at Will. Then, they looked at each other, and ghosts of smiles formed on their mouths.
"Superspy," muttered Mike, sounding in awe of his best friend.
Staring at the police truck, Bob asked, "What's Jim doing here? Joyce?"
"Kids," Joyce refused to answer, opening up the car door on her side, "I need you to stay here—"
"No, Mom," Will pleaded, leaning above the console. "Mom, Mom, it's not safe."
Getting out of the car, Joyce pointed back at her son. "That's why I need you to stay here! Stay here!"
She slammed the door shut and walked deeper into the pumpkin path. Bob was following her closely, and the kids could hear them shouting for the chief.
Will started to get out of the car.
"Will," Sam called as he got out of the car, shutting the door. She and Mike shared a look before they got out as well, Sam then hopping out with him.
Mike closed the door behind her. The two walked up to Will, who stood before a large hole. It was closed in with what Sam had drawn exactly — the vines. She felt a little nauseated at what she'd done.
"Do you see anything?" Mike asked Will. "I mean, in your now-memories?"
Will shook his head no.
Seconds later, the three kids heard several engines coming closer. They turned around, and the vans' headlights almost blinded them. It took only minutes until a bunch of men started to rush out of the vehicles in hazmat suits and blowtorches. They ran down the hole Joyce and Bob previously went in.
And then, everything got really scary.
Sam watched in wide eyes as Will suddenly clutched onto his stomach, dropping on the ground in pain.
"Will!" she gasped, sinking to her knees. She cried, "Will!"
When she touched him, trying to shake him out of his trance, all she felt was pain. Upon making contact with Will, Sam felt like she was burning. It hurt. She yelled out in pain.
"Something's wrong," Sam heaved, taking her hands off Will. The second she did, nothing burned anymore.
"Fucking clearly!" snapped Mike, freaking out.
Will had begun shaking on the ground as if he was having a seizure, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as he did.
Then, he was screaming and shrieking, making Sam and Mike only increasingly more terrified.
Sam jumped back in surprise, landing on the wet grass. Her eyes were wide, and she felt paralyzed as she and Mike watched their best friend go crazy.
◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦
bye will looks so goofy in that last scene
i'm imagining jaeden martell instead though because n*ah schn*pp is a fucking loser who is not getting the chance to shine in this story! fuck him and fuck zionists!
anywho
BOB NO BOB STAY AWAY WHY DID YOU PULL UP BOBBBB
sam and mike's relationship is something that is so dear and complex to me. they have so much history and sam understands mike in a way he could never understand himself and mike understands all of sam, the good and the bad, in a way most people don't. they are THE best friends and i love writing them almost as much as i love writing hughclair. their relationship becomes really important next season so just be on the lookout for that
(btw their song is totally "chemtrails over the country club" by lana del ray)
now that i've given my thoughts: who's y'all's favorite sam friendship? or even non-lucas sam romantic ship? not even gonna lie mine is samax. second place is curlyspecks. but i am a samax shipper at my core.
what'd you think?