◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦
Eleven stepped into the living room, nose dripping red and a stern glare on her face. Her eyes scoped the room, which had gone silent, but still felt so loud, so full.
He had expected to feel his heart break a little when she met eyes with Mike. Eleven's face softened, and so did Mike, and nothing he had assumed to feel could possibly have matched the utter dread that filled his heart as he witnessed this reunion.
Corey knew what love felt like, and he could see it plain as day on Mike Wheeler's face when he stepped out from behind Hopper and let the stupid candle holder fall to the floor, deflating in some kind of heartfelt relief. Eleven stared at him, and he stared at her, and everything fell back into place.
"Eleven?"
And they just looked at each other, and it was so simple.
Corey felt his eyes sting and he had to look away, because he knew that it would never be that simple for him as long as he was the way he was — and it would most definitely never be that simple for him when it came to Mike Wheeler.
Suddenly, someone was forcing their hand into Corey's, interlocking their fingers. Corey's first instinct was to punch the perpetrator, but he quickly turned to see that it was Sam who was holding his hand, and suddenly all the anger was draining out of him like a calming wave. How was she doing that? He stared at Sam, then realized Sam's eyes were more than just gentle; they were knowing.
Oh. Well, shit.
Corey cleared his throat and looked away, pointedly not looking where Mike and Eleven may or may not be making out at this point. He didn't want to know. Sam was squeezing his hand, calming him down, and while he felt better, he still didn't want to know.
"I never gave up on you — I called you every night. Every night for—"
"353 days," El shook her head, wiping her tears away. "I heard."
"Wh-Why didn't you tell me that you were there?" Mike frowned, and Corey could hear hurt confusion laced in his voice. "That you were okay?"
"Because I wouldn't let her."
And Corey had fucking never been more grateful for Jim Hopper in his life. Corey could finally breathe again, could finally look at the interaction happening before him. He was able to let go of Sam's hand and nervously flex his own fingers as if he were her. No one was happy anymore, as Hopper had sucked all the love out of the room, which made Corey happy, thank you very much. If he had to be miserable, then he hoped everyone else was, too.
Thank the heavens for Hopper, right?
"Is that...?" Max trailed off.
Sam nodded. Breathlessly, she finished, "Eleven."
Hopper walked up to Eleven, and Corey was very confused when he asked, "The hell is this? Where you been?" Then, he realized he had been too elated at Mike's drop in mood to put together what Hopper actually said. Because I wouldn't let her. Had he been secretly harboring Eleven?
"Where have you been?" Eleven shot back, glaring at Hopper for a second but allowing herself to be pulled into his firm embrace nonetheless.
"You've been hiding her," Mike said, staring at the man in disgust as Hopper pulled away from Eleven and Mike shoved him pathetically. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"
"Hey!" Hopper ground out, turning around and grasping the boy's collar, pulling him close as Mike struggled and slapped his arm. He nodded towards the hallway, said, "Let's talk. Alone."
Corey kind of wanted Hopper to beat his ass.
He looked to see Sam sending him a disapproving look, already knowing what Corey was thinking by the look on his face. Corey grumbled to himself and mumbled a half-assed apology to his little cousin. Did she have to know everything?
Mike and Hopper stared at each other for a few moments, Mike glaring and Hopper holding firm eyes. Finally, Hopper goaded Mike out of the room and down the hall, where angered yells and defensive cries soon echoed from.
It was Sam who turned from the hallway to Eleven with a brightening look on her face.
"El!" she exclaimed in glee, running forward and practically throwing herself onto Eleven.
"Holy shit, El, I missed you!" Sam continued. Her arms were flung around Eleven, throwing her chin over Eleven's shoulder. He was met with Sam's back, but Corey knew she was beaming for the first time in a while.
How could Corey hate her? How could he hate Eleven? She was an angel, and she made everyone happy, and there was no reason to.
He just wished his heart didn't break every time he thought of her and Mike.
"Missed you, too," Eleven nodded back, smiling weakly as her shoulders relaxed. But then, as she squeezed, Sam let out a hiss, and the smile was fading fast from Eleven's face. She forced Sam to stop hugging her, hands planted on her shoulders, searching her face for any sign of injury. Eleven realized, "You are hurt."
Sam choked out an incredulous laugh.
"I don't give a fuck!" she exclaimed gleefully, ignoring Joyce, Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy's reprimanding shouts at her language. "You're alive!"
"Are you... okay?" Eleven's eyebrows furrowed, still not convinced.
Corey watched Sam shake her head; watched her lie, "I'm fine. And I told you that you would rock the grunge look!"
Lucas and Dustin were chuckling quietly from behind the friends, and Corey knew it was an inside joke he hadn't been present yet to witness. Eleven turned from Sam, clutching onto Lucas and Dustin tight at the sight of them. The three of them stood in a solemn quiet until Eleven pulled away and was heading straight for Corey.
She hugged him, and oh. Corey had not been expecting that.
"You are still here," Eleven mumbled, surprised yet grateful, face buried into his neck.
Corey tried not to flinch too much in the embrace of Eleven, tried to return it so that no one would send a double take his way. His hands came sliding up her back.
"Of course," Corey huffed sarcastically. "I couldn't leave these idiots on their own without you."
Eleven laughed out fondly at that, stepping back with a fragile smile. Corey knew then that she deserved the entire word. It seemed that she only wanted Mike to give it to her, and if that meant having to deal with that stinging pain in his chest when he saw the way they looked at each other — the way Mike would never look at him — then so be it.
He had been ignoring his own feelings for years, one suppressed, childish affection was nothing he wouldn't handle.
It was unfair to fall for someone who belonged to someone else in the first place, he forced the words into his mind a hundred times as Eleven shifted her attention, and then a hundred more times until the pain became an odd sort of bearable.
"We talked about you pretty much every day," grinned Dustin, inadvertently showing off his dazzling new front teeth Eleven frowned at Dustin and prodded a thumb at the glinting incisors.
"Teeth."
"What?"
"You have teeth?"
Sam, Lucas, and Dustin shared short laughs, and Dustin turned back to Eleven with an exaggerated raise of his brows. "Oh, yeah, you like these pearls? Grrr."
Eleven looked startled at the sound that left his mouth, a strange feline purr, while Corey simply blinked in disbelief and mild exasperation, Dustin's idiocy astounding him.
"Eleven?" Max called, stepping forward to join them with a welcoming smile. She extended a polite hand — it was the most civil she had ever acted towards another person that wasn't Sam, and her smile was a tad strained unlike how it formed naturally around the blonde, but she looked excited to finally meet the infamous teen superhero her friends had apparently taken into their custody the year before. "Hey, I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you."
Eleven glanced at her, then looked away and pointedly pushed through the small gap between her and Dustin, allowing herself to be pulled into a tight embrace from Joyce as the yelling down the hall finally began to simmer down.
"Hey sweetheart," Joyce started, and both women were crying into one another in the next breath.
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"It's not like it was before," Hopper sighed as they had all reconvened around the kitchen table. They were discussing the Gate, the same Gate that El was now convinced she was able to close herself. Sam bit at her ring fingernail nervously, not sure if she felt the same yet. "It's grown. A lot. And, I mean, that's considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs."
"Demodogs," Dustin interjected, turning his head nonchalantly as if to make a brief comment and then be forgotten about, but stalling when Hopper's affronted glare fell on him and locked Dustin in place.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I said, uh, Demodogs," he explained, like Hopper the Grouch would be impressed with his invention. "Like Demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass—"
"How is this important right now?" Hopper snapped, glare hardening on the poor boy.
"It's not. I'm sorry," Dustin immediately said, looking down.
"I can do it," El announced again, for the millionth time.
Just like every time before, Hopper met Eleven's stare over the table from where he leaned against the kitchen counters. He shook his head firmly. "You're not hearing me."
"I'm hearing you," El disagreed. "I can do it."
"Even if El can," Mike spoke up from next to Hopper — ever since earlier their discussion Mike had been latching onto the police as if searching for comfort, "there's still another problem. If the brain dies, the body dies."
Max's eyebrows furrowed. Confused, she questioned, "I thought that was the whole point?"
"It is, but if we're really right about this — I mean, if El closes the Gate and kills the Mind Flayer's army..."
"Will's a part of that army," Sam worked together in quiet voice.
Lucas sucked in a sharp breath from next to Sam. He realized, "Closing the Gate will kill him."
Everyone sat silently, trying to figure out something else. Will dying was completely off the table. Even the bare thought of it made Sam clutch at her chest again, the biting pain returning. She felt—
"He likes it cold."
—cold, in her chest...
"What did you say?" Sam whipped her head to Joyce with fearful eyes. For a second, Sam had the terrified idea that Joyce had read Sam thoughts, worried Joyce would send Sam away for being crazy.
But that wasn't the case. It was only that Sam's repetitive action of holding her chest reminded Joyce of what Sam had said about the feeling, and then, what Will said when he took his sick day.
"Cold," stressed Joyce, getting up and walking down the hall. They all hurried to follow her, where they found Joyce in Will's room; she surveyed the open window, the unconscious Will, and the blasting air conditioning. She repeated, "He likes it cold!"
"It doesn't get any less confusing the more you say it, Ms. Byers," Corey said from the doorway.
"It's what Will kept saying to me," Joyce explained, feeling confused stares burning into the back of her head. "'He likes it cold.'"
Joyce sped forward to the other side of Will's room. With a grunt, she forced Will's window closed to prevent the cool breeze from filling the room.
Sam stepped a little further into the room, and suddenly a lot of things were falling into place for her — why she always felt that pain when Will was having his episodes, or how it had been a constant aching, ever since he got possessed on the field. It was a painful cold that Sam couldn't escape, no matter how hard she tried, because it wasn't Sam that the cold was connected to.
It was Will.
"We keep giving it what it wants," Sam put together, working in all the factors she had laid out before her. "The cold."
"If this is a virus," Nancy started, finally in tune with the theory, "and Will's the host, then..."
"Then we need to make the host uninhabitable," Jonathan finished, eyes glued on his unconscious, possessed little brother.
"So if He likes it cold—"
"We need to burn it out of him," Joyce stated, tone grim.
Nancy hummed, sitting on the bed next to Will, careful not to wake him.
From the doorframe, Mike was saying, "We have to do it somewhere he doesn't know this time."
"Somewhere far away," Corey added off of Mike, which made Sam's head turn back quickly to eye the two boys.
It was like a lightbulb lit over Hopper's head. He was leaning off of the wall, with a new determined look on his features.
"I know a place."
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Sam was not happy, to say the least, if anyone was wondering.
Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy were taking Will to Hopper's secret cabin while he and El were going to the Gate. What that meant to Sam was that the rest of them — Sam, Lucas, Corey, Mike, Max, Dustin, and Steve — were forced to stay back at Byers' house, doing nothing to help, whatsoever.
Sam couldn't feel useless again.
"You're not useless, Goldie," Steve told her when Sam had freaked out about being left behind. "We need a shooter in our group. If something comes over here, we're gonna need you to knock it down, all right?"
"No," Sam had grumbled. "Not all right."
Then, Max had chimed in with, "Actually, since we're on the topic, I would like to know how you know how to shoot a gun, Sam..."
"It's cool, right?" Lucas turned towards Max with a gesturing hand, eager to discuss that entire fact at all times.
Max nodded rapidly in agreement. "So cool," she added, and when the two continued discussing how 'cool' they thought Sam was, Sam had to tune them out, because she couldn't bare hearing it right now. Not when she let Bob die. Not when she could possibly be letting someone else die by not helping them out in all the action.
Now, both the cabin group and the Gate group had left long enough ago that the spared group impatiently waited around the house, trying to find anything to tamper their anxious natures. Corey was taking out his anger onto Mike, as both boys had been hissing and bickering at each other for an hour; Dustin forced Steve to help him shove the Demodog El killed into the Byers' freezer after clearing it out, wanting to preserve it for scientific means now that it was harmless; Lucas and Max volunteered to sweep up the shattered glass on that scattered on the floor due to the Demodogs intrust.
And Sam... well, Sam was about to explode.
Somehow, she was feeling everyone's waves of anxiety with such force that Sam had to physically swallow down the sick rising in her throat again. It was all becoming too much, and Sam feared she would break out into another panic attack — the fiftieth one this night, that was. Sam was trying to distract herself with Bob's brain teasers, but it was so use; she was being weighed down by all the tense emotion around her, and memories of Bob were not helping.
"I'm being the little bitch?" Mike gasped, incredulous. "You haven't spoken a word to me since the shed prep in the kitchen!"
Corey seethed, "God, you're such a fucking idiot, Wheeler!"
"Will you two please shut up?!" Max begged, throwing her head back as she crouched on the ground, holding a dustpan still for Lucas.
From the kitchen, Steve was groaning, "Is this really necessary?"
"Yes it is, okay?!" Dustin hissed. "This is a ground-breaking, scientific discovery!"
Sam threw the Rubik's cube she'd been trying to divert her attention with down onto the table. Groaning, Sam attempted slamming her head onto the table, too. Maybe that would get everyone to pipe down; to stop feeling so many things all at once. The only person who wasn't being overwhelming was—
Over in the living room, Lucas hummed in an unbothered manner as he swept the glass into Max's dustpan like a housewife. Sam was shooting out of her chair with loud tone of voice.
"Lucas Sinclair!"
By the way she yelled it, Lucas thought Sam was either mad at him or that something was wrong. Either way, it made him panic. He accidentally dropped the broom onto Max's head, worrying, "What?!"
But Lucas whipped around to see Sam was smiling at him. She pointed towards Lucas with the proudest look he'd ever seen.
"Are you humming Fleetwood Mac?!"
Lucas blinked back at her, wide eyes caught off guard. He said, "Uhhh..." pretty dumbly, kind of feeling like he was captured in the act of something. He shrugged slowly, said, "Maybe?"
"No, no, it definitely was," Sam beamed. She walked into the living room where Lucas and Max were before crouching to pick up the broom that hit Max and handing it back to Lucas. Then, to explain, quickly she sang what Lucas had been humming, "'And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again' — That was 'The Chain.' You were humming 'The Chain.'"
Lucas squinted, not knowing how to respond. "Uh, I guess I was—"
"I am so proud of you," Sam gripping both of his shoulders, and staring close to his face with a look that was a little deranged and scary. Max snorted from the side, amused by Sam's obsession with Fleetwood Mac, thinking back to one of their first ever conversations.
"Okay, Sam," Lucas nodded tiredly, grabbing her wrists and pulling their death-grip off his shoulders. Dismissively, he said, "Thank you."
Sam nodded back at him, proud of herself and him, and it was a little adorable, but it's not like he would ever comment on that. She huffed, placing her hands on her hips and looking around the messy living room floor. "So," she breathed, "how can I help?"
Immediately, Lucas and Max broke out into protests.
"Sam, you just got a chunk of flesh ripped out of you—"
"—You've passed out, like, six times—"
"—You were dying underneath my hands—"
"—You can help by going to a hospital," Max finished.
Sam threw her hands up, offended. "Well, we can't go anywhere, can we? They've stuck us in here to worry about if anyone else is dead or not! I can't stand feeling any more of all of your anxiety, anymore!" She paused, realizing she probably shouldn't have snapped at the only two people in the room who didn't make her feel like she was going insane. Hands out in defense, she restated, "Sorry, I shouldn't... have snapped like that. I just — I'm fine, okay? I need to help."
"Your unhealthy urges to help are what got you into this mess," Mike mumbled, not so quietly under his breath.
While Corey snapped, "Shut up!" Sam pointed a sassy finger and said, "Mike, I do not want to hear it right now."
Sam took another calming breath. Sternly, to Lucas and Max, she stated, "I'm helping," then she traveled back into the kitchen and grabbed the trashcan. She brought the bin back into the living room so Lucas could sweep the glass into the dustpan and Max could drop the contents of the dustpan into the trashcan.
Begrudgingly, they let her help. It was a simple task that didn't take much physical labor. They eventually fell into a rhythm as they worked — Lucas swept, Max collected, Sam held the bin. Lucas swept, Max collected, Sam held the bin, Mike paced...? Lucas swept, Max collected, Sam held the bin, Mike paced. Lucas swept, Max collected, Sam held the bin, Mike paced. Lucas swept, Max collected, Sam held the bin, Mike paced—
"Wheeler, would you just stop already?" Corey fumed, tired of only being able to hear his pounding footsteps over and over again in his ear.
Mike wheeled around to glare at Corey. "You weren't in there, Corey! That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs!"
"Demo-dogs!" Dustin yelled, stepping into view for a moment just to correct Mike.
"The chief will take care of her," Lucas ignored Dustin, knowing how stressed Mike was about El.
Max scoffed, commented, "Like she needs protection."
"Listen, dude," Steve exited the kitchen and came into the living room with Dustin, "a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line you execute it, all right?"
"Okay, first of all," glared Mike, "this isn't some stupid sports game. And second, we're not even in the game. We're on the bench."
"Ri—" Steve stammered, realizing that Mike was right. "So my point is..." he looked for something motivational to say, but had reached his word count. Everyone just stared at him for a minute while they waited for Steve to finish. "Right, yeah, we're on the bench, so, uh... there's nothing we can do."
"I don't like the bench," Sam pointed at Mike. Then, pointing at Steve, she added, "And you're not entirely right. I mean, these Demodogs, they're a part of the hive mind."
"Like in the bus!" Dustin realized. "When they ran away, they were called away."
With a contemplative face, Lucas wondered, "So if we get their attention..."
"Maybe we can draw them away from the lab," theorized Max.
"And clear a path to the gate," Corey caught onto their trains of thought.
With a face of rising hope, Mike added, "El and Hopper would be safe."
"Yeah, and then we all die!" Steve interjected, with an incredulous face, wondering how self-sacrificial these kids really could be.
Sam began staring at nothing, unintentionally putting on her Scheming Face. Her brain began working quickly, trying to put together a plan that wouldn't end with anyone's deaths.
Dustin tilted his head, disagreed, "Well, that's one point of view."
Her gaze shifted to the vines that she drew, eyes soaking in the blue, connecting cylinders pasted all around the house. She thought of Hopper almost dying, finding him with the juncture Will drew, Will using the hub to betray them all...
"No, that's not a point of view, man," Steve narrowed his eyes. "That's a fact—"
"I got it!" Sam exclaimed, finally forming a plan.
All heads turned to Sam, watching as she pushed in between Steve and Dustin to get to the kitchen. Curiously, everyone followed her. She crouched in front of fridge, staring at the juncture she knew physically represented half a mile southeast of Danford.
"This is where Hopper dug his hole," Sam pointed, showing her friends the location via her drawings. "This is our way into the tunnels, and me and Mike know how to get there!" She stood up, slowly because of the pain in her side, walking over to the center of the living room floor. Sam stood on top of the meeting point where all vines connected, and everyone followed her into the room. "Here, right here, this is like a hub! So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire—"
"Oh, yeah?" Steve snarked. "Yeah, that's a no."
"—The Mind Flayer would call away his army," Dustin took a liking to Sam's idea.
"They'd all come to stop us!" agreed Lucas.
"Hey," Steve tried to say, only to get interrupted.
Mike nodded, ignoring Steve with, "Then we circle back to the exit."
"Guys."
Corey began, "By the time they realize we're gone..."
"El would be at the gate!" Max finished.
"Hey! Hey! HEY!" Steve began clapping loudly, finally grabbing the Party's attention. With stern hands on his hips, he said, "This is not happening."
Sam's eyebrows creased and she frowned at him. "But—"
"No, no, no, no, NO!" cut off Steve. "No buts. I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe, and that's exactly what I plan on doing. We're staying here, on the bench, and we're waiting for the starting team to do their job! Does everybody understand?"
"This isn't a stupid sports game!" Mike reiterated with a frustrated scoff.
"I said does everybody understand that?" Now Steve was the one ignoring their inputs. He yanked the dish towel off his shoulder and pointed at them sharply with it. "I need a yes."
But the kids just stared back at them stubbornly. They did not like their genius idea being shot down, especially when it could guarantee El and Hopper wouldn't die. Steve was being a buzz kill, so instead of answering, they all just glared right back.
Then, they heard the revving of an engine.
That sound was all too familiar to Max. She quickly ran to the couch, kneeling on it so she could peer out of the window and confirm her theory. Sam joined her, shoulders touching, squinting to see out of the window as well.
"It's my brother," Max mumbled, voice tensing. She shook her head, staring at Sam with terrified eyes. "H-He can't know I'm here. He'll kill me."
And Max... Max looked so scared. It broke Sam's heart. She thought back to the deep, long conversation they had during their sleepover, Max relaying personal things to Sam about Billy that she didn't want anyone else to know. How he treated her, who he was, what it was like back at home. It was all so awful, and Sam couldn't stand her friend feeling so fear-stricken like this.
"He won't," Sam shook her head, adopting a serious and confident demeanor. "He won't, Max, okay? I won't let him."
Then, she side-eyed the boys standing for a moment.
"Actually, my side kind of hurts, so... Steve won't let him, right, Steve?"
"Seriously?"
"There is chunk of flesh missing!" Sam used everyone else's words to her advantage. "I need to stay here with the gun, remember?"
Steve groaned a little childishly, but not before sending Sam a half-hearted glare. He wasn't actually upset, just dramatic. To the kids, Steve told them, "Okay. Everyone stay here."
He nodded to himself for a few seconds, trying to gain confidence before walking out of the house and up to Billy's car. The second the door closed, the kids ran to watch from the window again, being as careful as they could not to be seen.
Everything was going fine until Max's brother pointed towards them, and the six kids quickly ducked down, sitting properly slouched on the couch with their backs pressed as low as they could go.
"Shit! Do you think he saw us?"
"No, Dustin, I think we were perfectly discreet!" Sam mocked sarcastically. She couldn't help it. She just naturally resulted to sarcasm when she was stressed.
"Get the gun, Sam!" Mike panicked. "You gotta use the gun!"
"No!" Max immediately protested. "Do not shoot him!"
"What if he tries to kill you?!" worried Corey.
The Party was scrambling from the couch, now standing in front of the hall in the house; far from the door, but close enough so that the front room was still in sight.
"He won't actually," said Max. Then, "I think." Then, "Just don't grab the gun, Sam!"
"I kinda wanna grab the gun," Sam muttered nervously, fists clenching.
"Sam! Promise you won't shoot him!"
"Fine! I promise!"
So Sam didn't grab the gun, although it would be very useful if this psychotic nut-job tried attacking them, and this was a very stupid decision, but fine. Whatever. There was a stronger urge not to upset Max than there was to shoot people.
The door burst open. An angry — yet unfortunately good-looking — guy stormed in. His red blouse had about three buttons undone, showing off his chest that was as red as his face with rage. The kids watched as he glared at all of them, eyes trailing from each kid, skipping across Mike, Corey, Dustin, and Sam. His gaze lingered on Max, and then finally on Lucas.
"Well, well, well."
Billy slammed the front door, making all of them jump. Where was Steve? Sam panicked. Where the fuck was Steve?
"Lucas Sinclair, what a surprise," mused Billy scornfully. He started to move closer to Lucas, then snapped his head to Max. "I thought I told you to stay away from him."
"Billy, go away," Max tried to make it sound like an order, but it sounded like a tremble, a beg.
Lowly, Billy growled, "You disobeyed me. And you know what happens when you disobey me."
Sam really wanted to grab the gun.
"Billy," Max's voice was pleading for Billy not to do what she knew he was going to do next.
"I break things," sneered Billy.
Then, with a grunt, Billy was surging forward and grabbing Lucas by both ends of his jacket. Billy shoved Lucas all the way into the kitchen, slamming him all the way into a wall. The house erupted in shouts, worried gasps, and angry cries.
"Lucas!" Sam exclaimed his name, worry filling her eyes.
For once in Sam's life, she wasn't thinking. She didn't know what she was doing when she wrenched out of Mike's grasp. She just knew she wanted Billy to stop, for Lucas to be okay. She ran for him.
"Sam, no—!"
The lights in the house flickered rapidly as Sam began hitting Billy right in the back. "Leave him alone, you asshole!" she was crying, begging Billy to stop. She threw her elbow as hard as it could go into his spine, knowing elbows were one of the stronger bones in her body.
Billy startled at the harsh force, doing a double take behind him, not expecting to find a tiny, little blonde girl hitting him. He also didn't care who it was that just hit him, it didn't stop Billy from keeping one of his arms pressing Lucas into the wall while the other arm threw an elbow back in return. He slammed his elbow right into Sam's right side — the side that got eaten by a Demodog, by the way.
Sam cried out in pain, doubling over as tears formed in her eyes. The lack of skin was squishy and soft and hurt a fucking lot when he crashed into it. Before she could retaliate, Corey's arms were wrapping around Sam and pulling her back with the rest of the screaming kids.
"Let me go!" Sam tried forcing herself out of Corey's grip. "Let me get the gun!"
Lucas saw the furious tears in Sam's eyes as Billy tightened his fists around Lucas's jacket and forced him into the cabinet, metal pots and pans either clambering against his head or down to the floor.
So Lucas kicked Billy in the balls as hard as he could. The older teenager grunted, letting him go and stumbling back in pain.
Billy clenched his jaw. He grunted and lifted his head. "You are so dead, Sinclair! YOU'RE DEAD!"
But then Steve was running back into the house. He forced Billy around by a piercing grip on his shoulder, shaking his head in disgust. "No," Steve spat. "You are."
And he punched Billy square in the face.
Lucas ran back to his friends, who all accepted him back with a grateful group hug. Sam was searching him for any signs of extended pain when Lucas caught her attention with a hand on her shoulder. He was staring down at her with creased eyebrows.
"Are you okay?" Lucas panted.
Sam huffed out humorlessly, incredulously. "Are you joking, Luke?! Are you okay?"
Lucas ignored her. His eyes were peeling on Jonathan's sweater, soaked in blood in a way that it wasn't before. He worried. "You're bleeding again—"
"I don't care," Sam stressed, throwing his arm off her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
He nodded as he panted, "I'm okay, Sam. I'm okay."
When Sam was sure he wasn't lying, she immediately stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Eyes squeezed shut over his shoulder, she muttered into his ear, "Good." Then, "Don't scare me like that again."
"Uh," Lucas started, breaking away from the hug, offended, "I didn't do anything—"
He was cut off by Billy's psychotic laughter, reminding the two kids that Billy was still there and Steve had just rocked his shit. When they turned, Steve and Billy were facing each other in the living room. Sam could feel the tension everywhere, making her stiffen up as if she was a part of the chaos, too.
"Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh?!" Billy yelled, blood dripping down his nose from the previous punch. "I've been waiting to meet this 'King Steve' everybody's been telling me so much about!"
He marched up close to Steve's face, trying to intimidate him. Steve's eyes just watched Billy in utter repulsion. He brought up two mere fingers, pushing Billy away from him.
"Get out," Steve said lowly. Sam wouldn't have heard it if everyone else in the house wasn't dead silent.
Billy gave him an unamused look before he swung to hit Steve, but Steve saw it coming and quickly ducked out of the way. He launched himself forward and socked Billy in the face again, so hard that Billy went stumbling into the kitchen and fell back on the counter.
"YES!"
"Kick his ass, Steve!"
"Get him!"
"Be careful! Oh, god! Please, be careful!"
"Nah, just kill him!"
"MURDER THE SON OF A BITCH!"
The Party started to cheer on for Steve, gawking at the fight before them. As high of a reputation Steve had, the past few days convinced them that Steve was just a loser, so him actually being cool really caught them by surprise. Steve punched him into another counter. He punched Billy again, and his back fell against the kitchen sink.
"GET THE SHITHEAD!"
"NOW! NOW!"
"KARMA'S A BITCH, HUH, BIILLY?!"
"NOT SO TOUGH NOW — Oh."
Billy had laughed, blood dripping out of his nose and mouth, as he picked up a fragile plate and slammed it against Steve's head hard. The kids gasped when it shattered loudly.
"Billy, stop!" Max screamed.
"Holy shit," Mike muttered.
Steve tripped over himself, trying to get away from the kitchen. Sam thought that was very smart of Steve, because there were multiple worse weapons in the kitchen Billy could be using. But, now, he stumbled into the living room, with the guns, axe, and nail bat.
Billy didn't waste any time in marching back up to Steve, landing a hit on him with his fist this time. Then, he did it again. And again. Sam feared that Steve was about to fall.
He was about to fall, so Billy kept a piercing grip on the sides of Steve's jacket, keeping him held up and close to his face.
"No one," Billy seethed, low and dangerous and through his teeth. "No one tells me what to do!"
Billy craned his neck back, and with a shocking amount of force, head-butted Steve. Steve toppled to the floor, body sliding across the ground. Steve's back was pressed to Sam's obscure drawings, the palms of his hands against the floor in an attempt to stand.
Billy hovered over him. He cracked his knuckles against Steve's flesh, blood still pouring from his nose and mouth.
Hit, after hit, after hit.
He was knocked unconscious.
Hit, after hit, after hit.
Steve's lip was busted. His nose was bleeding. His eye was swollen. Sam's throat was raw, and she had screamed every word in the human language, all telling Billy to stop. The lights were going crazy in the house with her. Thick tears brimmed her bloodshot eyes as she stepped for the gun.
"SAM, NO!"
Sam adjusted her grip on the shotgun like how it had been earlier, pointed right at Billy's head. "STOP!" she yelled.
When he just continued beating up Steve, it was like an electric force zapped Billy, forcing him to wheel around and face Sam.
"Hargrove," Sam said low, dangerous. "Stop."
Billy's hands immediately snapped up in the air, wide eyes trained on Sam and her bleeding nose.
"Woah, woah, woah! What the fuck is this little blonde girl doing?!"
"Get off of Steve," Sam started, shotgun aimed at his face, "or I will shoot you."
"SAM, NO!"
"SAM, DO IT!"
Billy had yet to get off of Steve, so Sam lifted the shotgun higher, grip firmer, and aim sharper. She glared at Billy from behind the weapon, not backing down. She knew there was no chance she'd actually shoot him, but she finally wanted to scare the crap out of someone.
"Get off!" shouted Sam, taking one step closer, following Billy with the top of the gun as she did so, "I'm warning you one more time!"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Billy begged. His hands were still up in defense as he slowly stood. "Just..." his eyes flickered between Sam and the gun, "wait."
"Now leave," Sam ordered, not waiting for anything in the slightest.
Sam stared back at Billy, who had finally risen to his tallest height. He stared back at her, hands up in the air. Sam watched his mind work, eyes darting all over the place — to Sam, to the gun, to the kids behind her.
"Hey!" snapped Sam. "What did I say?!"
"And what did I say?" Billy murmured.
Sam's eyebrows furrowed, grip on the gun faltering for just a second. In confusion, she questioned, "What?"
"I said that no one tells me what to do!"
Catching Sam completely off guard, Billy was launching himself forward for Sam. He must have realized that Sam was just bluffing, that she would never shoot anyone, because he gained enough courage to run out the thirteen-year-old holding the gun.
But before he could make it anywhere near Sam, a blur of red hair was running protectively in front of Sam. Max slammed a needle into Billy's neck, forcing her step-brother to pause. Her thumb pressed at the bottom of the syringe, so the liquid was injected into his system — it was the sedative they'd been using on Will.
Billy's hand flew to the side of his neck, and he yanked the needle from his skin.
"What the hell is this?" panted Billy, trying to walk towards Max. Sam kept the gun pointed his way, just in case. "You little shit, what did you do?"
Billy's body wobbled, and he crashed to the ground.
Everyone flinched back at the sound of the large thud, Sam eyeing his body in wide-eyed bafflement as her aim on the gun fell slightly. She was so taken aback at Max's quick-thinking action.
Like a psychopath, Billy began chuckling from the ground, trying to mock Max and make her feel small. It pissed Sam off, so she raised the gun at Billy and aimed at him, just so she could imagine shooting him to make herself feel better.
It turned out that Billy pissed Max off too, because she was stomping a few steps into the hall and grabbing Steve's nail bat that rested against it. Max marched back over to Billy, holding the bat up as if she was going to hit him with it.
"From here on out, you're going to leave me and my friends alone," Max ordered. "Do you understand?"
From his sprawled-out position on the floor, Billy quietly slurred, "Screw you."
Max swung the bat all the way down, and Sam yelped, because it looked like she had just struck Billy in his balls with the nail bat. But, upon further inspection, it was just the space between his legs, very close to his balls.
She pulled the bat back up, holding it threateningly. "Say you understand!" Max screamed. "Say it. SAY IT!"
"I understand..."
"WHAT?!"
"I understand!"
Max dropped the bat on the ground when he passed out. Sam was so shocked that her aim on the gun fell completely, tip pointed at the floor. She looked behind herself, sharing bewildered looks with Lucas, Corey, Mike, and Dustin. Max scoffed at the pathetic sight of Billy, digging in his pockets before pulling out his car keys. Holding the keys up, jiggling them in the air, she said, "Let's get out of here."
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"There was a stronger urge not to upset Max than there was to shoot people" girlfriendism folks
our first official hughclair hug ladies and gents! how are we feeling??
sam and max ending billy w the gun and the bat!! girl power!! hopper and steve wish they were them!!
i love sam's obsession w fleetwoof mac, it's so random because i'm not even that big of a fan (i love them but have no clue why i chose them for her to be obsessed with)
also just rambling: if i gave sam a brother it would just be walker's percy jackson
what'd you think?