Chapter Text
Eddie
It’s a disgustingly average day when his car limps into the parking lot. He drives slowly through the thin Sunday morning crowd, moving around gawking mothers and suspicious fathers. The radio stutters as the tape changes, and the sharp cords of Metallica are replaced with the soft tones of Anita Baker. He closes his eyes. “Seriously, Harrington,” he groans. “Pick something and stick with it.”
“It’s not my fault you have a shitty selection,” Steve mutters. The music stops again before Steve injects another tape. “You need like, a mixtape.”
“Not all of us have infinite time, my liege,” Eddie huffs. He’s been busy rebuilding some sort of life after his days on the run and subsequent weeks in the hospital. Not to mention the increasingly difficult house-hunting effort. Not many people want to rent to a ‘maybe innocent’ serial killer. Hopefully, Wayne can make some headway now that the NDA settlement has cleared.
“It would at least offer you some variety,” Steve argues. “It can’t all be Rock music.”
“It’s Metal,” He sighs. “Dustin’s right. You are uncultured.”
“I’m uncultured?!”
He nods and slides into a free spot near the front. “Sure, you might know what fork goes with the salad, but what about the finer things in life? I mean, have you even started on your homework?”
Steve hunches against the seat. “Who writes a book with a thousand pages?”
He can’t help it. Eddie leans back and laughs. He laughs so loud that a few people’s nervous looks transform into mildly concerned stares. Steve’s smiling in the mirror, and Eddie’s calmer about this trip than he was a few minutes ago. He grabs the handle and faces the hardware store. It’s nothing fancy. A small mom and pop that’s been in the Davidson family for decades. They don’t see much business on Sunday, too many people stuffing themselves into churches, but there are still a few heathens pointing and whispering at his car.
“Hey,” Steve says. “You sure you want to do this?”
No. “How else are they supposed to get used to the Freak walking free?” He grins and pops the door open. “Take me shopping, Harrington.”
There’s a hush when his boots hit the pavement, and he resists the urge to stick out his tongue and set his fingers in his hair. Hopper has hammered in the importance of not antagonizing the locals. At least not until the story Nancy painstakingly curated replaces the demon fever Jason ignited. Eddie doesn’t mind; at least Wheeler's article was closer to the truth, and he’ll take being labeled a coward than rotting in a jail cell for crimes he didn’t commit.
A door slams before Steve circles beside him. He tugs out a small list. “I think we can get most of this in the same aisle.”
Eddie peers over Steve's shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Who writes a list for five items?”
“I do,” Steve snaps.
Eddie lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, my King.” He makes a sweeping bow, his right arm stretched toward the door. “After you.”
Steve scoffs and pushes past him. “Remember, I shop for the knives. Don’t even look at that side of the store.”
Now it's Eddie's turn to roll his eyes. He doesn’t need to be told twice about that particular rule. He only pokes the bear, not stabs it. He follows Steve into the building and keeps his head up. He never dipped his chin before, and he’s not going to start now, even under the weight of slightly murderous glares.
Steve grabs a basket. “Let’s do this.”
It’s a surprisingly easy shopping trip. Steve’s right, most of what they need is stuck between two aisles. Steve veers down aisle seven while he meanders around aisle six. He considers the row of metal pipes, grabs a steel one, and rolls it between his hands. It’s not too heavy, and the height seems doable enough, its edge barely reaching his chin. Eddie checks the top and frowns. It’s a little narrow for a knife handle, but he’s sure they can modify it back at the station.
He gives it an experimental spin and almost puts it back on the shelf. It’s still all surreal. A few months ago, he was fighting monsters with words, and now he’s contemplating the risks of a spear that’s too long for his reach. “Fuck my life, man.”
He wonders further down the aisle, weighing the pros and cons of switching to screws for his makeshift shield when a shoulder digs roughly into his, damn near lifting him off his feet. Eddie stumbles, crashing hard into the row of screws and hammers.
The man glares down at him, all burly and hairy and hateful. He leans close, and Eddie’s grip tightens around the pipe. “Got something to say, pussy?”
“Alright, Munson,” Steve calls. He rounds the corner with a box of nails bouncing between his hands. “I think these will do-” He stops, looking between Eddie and the unknown man, and straightens. He almost grows in the aisle, and he’s every bit the monster killer in this small town hardware store. “We got a problem?”
The man glares at Steve, but something in Harrington’s gaze causes him to shrink. He spits at Eddie’s feet and leaves without a word.
“Asshole,” Steve mutters. He holds out a hand. “You, ok?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, and ignores the offer. “He wasn’t going to do anything.” They never do. They just shove and bitch and growl. Like they’re mad he didn’t kill all those people. He grabs a random pack of screws. They’re long and thick enough to punch through weak lids, and it’s good enough for today. “We all set?”
“Hey, man-”
“I know, I know,” Eddie sighs, and passes the pipe and screws to Steve. “Let’s just buy this shit and get out of here.”
They shuffle towards the register, but Eddie doesn’t stop. He pushes through the doors and sinks against the side of the building. He fishes out a cigarette, lights it with a quick flick of the wrist, and takes a deep pull. The nicotine does the trick immediately, tension bleeding out with each puff of smoke. He didn’t survive bats from literal hell to let some small-town bully rile him up. He checks his watch and breathes out another cloud. They’ve got an hour until the Monster Meeting, and he plans to use every minute before he’s shoved back into the nightmare.
Monster Meeting. The name’s almost familiar in his mouth. He thought, after everything, after Nancy published such a scathing paper on the investigation and his manhunt that the police were apologizing to him in the hospital, that things would go back to normal. That he’d say goodbye to the Upside Down and finally walk across the stupid stage for Wayne.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, they dropped his diploma beside his hospital bed and told him the military quarantine starts Monday. Dustin found him an hour later, grim-faced and determined, saying how it wasn’t over, not by a long shot, and gave him a walkie-talkie like it was an entry pass into this monster-hunting group.
Maybe it was.
The door opens, and his eyes slide to Steve. “Ok,” Steve huffs. He stuffs the receipt into his pocket and sets his hands on his waist. “You ready to go?”
He takes one last pull and stares at this normal parking lot, filled with people who have no fucking clue how freaky this town really is. “Sure thing,” he grins. He crushes the cigarette beneath his heel. “Let’s go dog catching.”
Despite leaving the store on time, they’re still the last ones to arrive. Eddie slips quietly into the room and settles next to Dustin. The kid beams immediately, and Eddie shoves him with a grin. A few others wave, the Byers only nodding, and Robin offers a lazy salute while Steve crashes next to her on the couch.
The radio station is filled to the brim, and he’s still getting used to how many people are involved in this Upside Down bullshit. Some he gets, but the biggest surprise was Chief Hopper. Eddie nearly had a heart attack when the man made an appearance, thin but alive, at the first meeting.
The Chief stands at the front of the room today, his superhero daughter hovering off to the side, and claps once everyone’s settled. He’s decked out in black today, with a severe expression and a gun on his hip. “Alright, everyone, we’re out of time. Murray intel says there’s going to be a burn in about a month, so we have to deal with these creatures-”
“Demowolves,” Dustin interjects, and the entire room groans.
“Really?” Lucas says.
“What? That’s what Hop said they looked like!”
Hopper takes a breath, “These creatures. We’ve already received reports of missing animals and half-eaten deer. Now, by all accounts, they aren’t overtly violent, but I believe that’s due to the curfew and not something innate to their nature. They certainly didn’t hold back when they came after me.”
Eddie remembers that night. The chaos and gunshots over the radios. The fear that the military will finally know that someone else was crossing the gate with them.
“You’re lucky they flipped, Hop,” Joyce says.
Hopper nods, “Which is the crux of the plan. They flipped after I returned fire, and I think with a little pressure we can do it again.”
“And that’s what we want them to do,” Nancy adds. “If we can get them to flip, then we think they’ll stay over there.”
“And why do we think that?” Robin says.
“Because this is our first time seeing them,” Nancy answers. “It’s been four months since the government converged on the gate, and there hasn't been any crossover. No Demogorgon, no dogs, no bats, and definitely no wolves. It’s safe to assume they’re staying on the other side for some reason.”
“Right,” Hopper says. “As crazy as it sounds, I think I scared them into creating a gate. If we can do it again before this,” he glances at Dustin, “this pack escalates to people, then I’ll call it a win. We can’t have any bodies drop, not with Eddie’s innocence still up for debate in public opinion.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “One serial killer allegation was enough for me.”
Hopper doesn’t laugh, doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but Dustin does, and he takes it as a personal victory.
“Let’s stay focused,” Hopper says, and Eddie sits up under the attention. “We find this pack tonight and either kill them or force them back into the Upside Down.” He shifts, placing a familiar map of Hawkins on the projector. “We’ve spent the last few nights covering the left side of town, so tonight we hit the right. If they move, we'll see them.”
Eddie zones out a bit as Hopper speaks. He’s heard a variation of the same speech since these creatures ripped a gate open on Monday. He plucks absently at his pants, going through the Master of Puppets riffs in his mind. He’s working his way up the crescendo when a hand bangs against the screen.
“Am I boring you, Munson?” Hopper frowns.
“No,” Eddie coughs. “Of course not.” He rolls his wrist in a sweeping motion. “Please continue.”
Hopper's jaw works before turning. “Like I was saying. Robin, Steve, Dustin, and Eddie, you’re on junkyard duty.”
Dustin groans, but Eddie’s secretly grateful. They swept close to that area the night before, and there were no signs of giant demon creatures. He’s not ready to jump headfirst into monster hunting even after his epic moment of bravery. Not like these guys. They’re old hats at it by now, easing into their defined roles and weapons while Eddie’s still wet behind the ears. He rolls the newly made spear between his hands and prays for an easy night.
“Will and Max,” Joyce says. “You’ll be manning-”
“The radio,” Max spits. She sinks deep into the opposite couch, her good leg bouncing against the concrete. “We know.”
Will shifts against his mother's hold. “How many of them are there again?”
“Three,” Hopper says. “Two small ones, and one big one.”
“We’ll all be in proximity in case anything happens, but remember,” Hopper says. “Don’t get close if you can help it. This is recon only. We find the demo-creatures and regroup. Don’t do anything reckless. We’re not looking for any heroes tonight.” He checks his watch. “We’ll meet back here an hour before sunset. Don’t be late.”
He dismisses them with a nod, and everyone disperses. Eddie sits awkwardly while everyone groups up. He looks around before stopping on Max. She’s putting out major ‘don’t talk to me’ and all Eddie sees is a green light for conversation. He moves and practically jumps on the opposite couch. The springs screech at the treatment, but he offers no apology.
Max glares as he settles, and he grins. “You ok, Red?”
“Never better,” she spits, and Eddie hums. He doesn’t say anything. He knows Max well enough that prodding too much will get him nowhere.
It’s another minute before her shoulders drop. “You all get to do something,” Max mumbles. “I’m stuck on radio duty. Again.”
“No offense,” Eddie starts and nudges her cane. “You’re not exactly up for running laps.”
“But this is recon!” She snaps. “I can do that in my sleep, and Nancy’s been teaching me how to shoot! I could watch from above and make sure everyone’s back is covered. Not twiddle my thumbs with Will!”
The room ramps in volume in an obvious display to prove they’re not listening. Eddie wishes someone would jump in. He’s not the best at pep talks. “Just,” he fumbles. “You just have to crawl before you walk, Red. You’ll be killing monsters with your boyfriend in no time!”
“This isn’t about Lucas!”
“What about me?”
“Ugh!” Max groans. She pushes to her feet and waves off helping hands. “Someone, take me home! Now!”
Lucas looks around the room before stepping forward. They shuffle out together, and Robin shoots him a look. “What!”
“I thought you were supposed to be good with words, Dungeon Master,” She mocks.
“Watch it, Buckley,” Eddie and, his voice deepens. He stands, arms lifting toward the ceiling. “Your mind couldn’t comprehend the spells cast at my table. The ghouls haunting the halls of my campaigns.” His voice falls to a hush, and Robin rolls her eyes. He doesn’t mind; he sees Wheeler and Dustin lean in, and it’s all he needs. “The vivid scenes of battle and triumph I paint with a mere whisper.”
Byers is looking now as Eddie holds the tension in his hands. His eyes slip closed; he misses this. “But alas,” he sighs, and pulls back. “Red needs something more concrete than the worlds I build at my table.”
He twists. “King Steve!” Harrington rocks back on his heels. “Let us retreat! Our chariot awaits!”
Steve blinks. “S-sure, man.” He pats Robin on the shoulder. “How did I get roped into driving with this guy again?”
“You lost the coin toss,” Nancy adds, but she’s smiling.
Eddie pivots for the secret stairs. “I’ll see my fellow hunters tonight.”
He’s halfway up the stairs when Dustin practically shouts, “He’s so cool!”
“I don't see the appeal,” Steve mutters.
He leans toward Steve. “As I said,” he grins. “Uncultured.”
Eddie shifts against the ground with a loud yawn. The night has progressed gloriously slow just like he hoped. They’re tucked high on a small hill overlooking the junkyard, one he didn’t know existed until Dustin led them off the tracks and through a thick patch of wood. It's a tight fit with all three of them up here, but they haven't pushed each other off the hill just yet.
They’re about a football field away from the junkyard, and there hasn’t been anything but raccoons and rats for the last two hours. Eddie takes a sip of water and dips a hand in the communal chip bag. He kicks his feet up on a nearby rock and tries not to relax too much. His gaze drifts to the moon. It’s full tonight, illuminating and haunting in a way that makes this feel more like a camping trip than a stakeout.
He rolls his wrist. They’ve got less than half an hour before Hopper labels this mission a bust. "Almost done," he sighs.
“I bet Nancy’s going to find them,” Dustin groans. He’s leaning against the same boulder Eddie is, with his own makeshift spear abandoned at his feet. “She always gets to do the fun stuff.”
“I wouldn’t qualify this as fun,” Steve snorts. He stares lazily through a pair of binoculars. “Plus, we do fun stuff.”
“Name one!”
“Uh, the Russians,” Robin huffs. She’s on her back and using her ‘snack’ backpack as a pillow, not even pretending to look for this pack of demon wolves.
“Don’t forget the bats,” Eddie sings. He scratches at a long line of scars on his ribs. “I sure don’t.”
“But that was a distraction,” Dustin whines. “And we were stuck in that elevator for hours! Everybody else was chasing down the Mind Flayer!”
“You’re focusing on the boring parts, Dipshit,” Steve yawns. “Though I wouldn’t categorize the rest of that night as ‘fun’.”
“The drugs were,” Robin muses.
Eddie gives them a look. They’re pretty tight-lipped about this whole ‘Russian’ thing, but he’s seen enough trembling fingers and far-off looks to know that’s probably going to stay between the two of them. He checks his watch. “What time are we calling time of death-”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve sits up. “Far left. I’ve got movement.”
“Where!?”
“I said far left, Henderson!”
Robin rolls over, “You sure it’s not a-” her breath hitches. “Holy shit, is that a dead deer? Let me see.”
"How are you even seeing that!?"
Suddenly, they’re all fighting over the binoculars, whisper-shouting, and tugging until Dustin somehow comes out on top.
Eddie can just make out the shape. They’re large, hulking things about his size. He squints, “What did Hop say these things look like again?” Eddie whispers.
“Wolves,” Dustin hisses. “Holy fuck.”
The pack of creatures rip into the deer, sending chunks of flesh and fur sporadically into the air. Eddie’s fingers twitch around the spear, wondering if they’re truly a safe distance away, but the demowolves never look or twitch in their direction, just sink deeper into the carcass.
“They look like demogorgons,” Steve says. He shifts into a low crouch, “But bent over.”
“And the mouths are different,” Dustin says. “They have actual snouts instead of flower petals.”
"And what big jaws they have," Eddie can tell from here as one’s mouth opens wide, its jaw hinging near the clavicle.
Robbin snatches the bonoculers. “But where are their eyes?” she hisses, and Eddie’s happy to hear a wobble in her voice. At least he’s not the only one scared shitless.
“I guess they don’t have any,” Dustin muses. “It’s like the others. None of them had eyes, not even the Mind Flayer. They must be using some other sense to see.”
“Alright,” Steve says. “Enough rubbernecking and call it in.”
“Agreed,” Eddie hisses. “And make sure the volume is low. They might have super hearing or some shit.”
“Demowolves,” Dustin grins. “You’ve gotta admit that’s pretty cool.”
No one shares his enthusiasm, and Dustin rolls his eyes. He lifts the walkie, makes an exaggerated show of turning down the dial, then presses the button. “This is Dustin. We’ve-”
The Demowolves look up in unison, their eyeless faces zeroing in on their hiding spot.
Eddie holds his breath, and no one moves. Maybe it was a coincidence? They can’t possibly be looking at them.
The walkie crackles to life. “Dustin? Repeat, over.”
The biggest one steps forward, all skin and serrated teeth, with a dull red stripe running down its snout. Its lip curls back, and Eddie knows in his heart it's staring right at their location.
“Run!”
Eddie’s on his feet before Robin can finish. He’s sprinting alongside Steve, weaving between trees and jumping over logs for the train tracks. They have distance on their side, but it’s a small comfort. The demowolves are quadrupedal, and Eddie’s DM'd enough campaigns to know you can’t outrun something with more legs than you.
He can almost hear them now, panting and snarling as they race to catch up.
“The van!” Steve shouts. “We’ll have a better chance in the van!”
They’re halfway down the tracks when Eddie hears the first howl and shake of timber. He wills his legs to run faster and scans the darkness for the stupid turn off.
“Code Red, Code Red!” Dustin pants. “We found the pack! I repeat, we’ve found the pack! They’re north of the junk yard and currently trying to eat us! Over!”
Eddie doesn’t catch Wheeler's response, too busy following Steve’s lead as the road and that beautifully ugly car finally becomes visible. There’s a thunderous crash behind them, and he curses. He can hear them all now, their labored breathing and deafening footsteps.
A howl rings through the air before a terrified yelp echoes in its wake. Eddie dares to peek back. A Demowolf stands hunched over Robin, its massive snout tearing into her backpack. Chips and candy bars go flying as it shakes her. Robin screams, throwing her arms up to protect her neck. Eddie’s heart stutters, ready to pivot and do something, when Steve pumps past him.
Eddie barely catches the keys as Steve shouts, “Get Dustin in the car! Now!”
Steve skids to a stop before Robin and pulls the bat out in a smooth economy of motion. He twists hard into the swing and catches the Demowolf right in the temple. It stumbles off Robin with a whimper, but Steve doesn’t stop. He goes for another swing, and jagged teeth go flying when it connects.
Eddie shoves Dustin into the van as the kid continues to shout for backup. He pivots, sprinting back toward Robin even as Steve has the beast on the ground. It’s sluggish, whimpering as Steve rears up to deliver a final blow to the creature's skull.
We’re going to make it, Eddie thinks. He stabs at a smaller making a pounce for Robin. He twists the spear before yanking it out. It backs up, its impossible jaw dripping blood as Robin stumbles to her feet. They huddle close and backpeddle for the van. We’re going to make it! “Steve! Let’s go!”
He believes it until the big one knocks Steve off his feet.
“Steve!”
Harrington and Demowolf roll down the tracks, a ball of snapping teeth and a sturdy baseball bat. The Demowolf comes out on top, and Steve hits the ground with an audible thump. His bat is jammed in its dripping mouth, but the Demowolf’s claws sink deep into the ground for purchase. Its jaw snaps, wrenching the bat from Steve’s grip. Eddie runs, spear at the ready, but everything moves in slow motion. It takes a thousand years for his arm to lift, for the demowolf to open its impossibly wide maw, and for it to sink serrated teeth into Steve’s shoulder.
Steve screams.
Eddie rams the spear into the creature's side a second later, and it roars. Its jaw releases, and Steve gasps. He pulls the spear out and goes for another stab, but the creature jerks back. It circles them, and it’s even bigger up close. He’s almost looking it in the face. Eddie swallows and pulls off his shield when a second one joins the leader. Be brave, he thinks, and tightens his grip.
A shot rings through the air.
The smaller Demowolf yelps before a second shot hits the big one right in the shoulder. Nancy Wheeler walks out of the woods, shell casings flying as she lines up another shot. The big one pivots and stumbles under something more automatic. Eddie jumps as the muzzle flashes and lets a wild whoop into the air. “Fuck yeah, Chief!”
The combined gunfire forces the two back toward the stumbling third. The Demowolves dig into the dirt, ripping through space itself, and disappear across the gate.
“Fuck, yeah!” Eddie screams. He pumps the spear into the air. “Fuck, yeah, Wheeler!!”
“Steve!” Robin shouts, and Eddie curses. How could he forget? Robin plows past him for Steve’s prone form. She yanks her jacket off, pressing into his bloodied shoulder and chest. Steve hisses.
“Jesus, Buckley,” He pants. “Go easy on me.”
Suddenly, the track is filled with people. Dustin hugs Eddie first, a breathless ‘thank you’ on his lips before kneeling next to Steve.
“What did I say about being a hero?” Hopper says. He ties an extra layer of fabric over the wounds.
“Can’t seem to help it,” Steve grins, and his teeth are bloodied.
Hopper tilts Steve’s head carefully, and his shoulders drop. “Doesn’t look like anything hit your neck, but we still need to get you to the hospital. You’re in for a few dozen stitches.”
“More like a hundred,” Mike mumbles.
“We can take the van,” Eddie says, and waves the keys. “He can lie down flat until we get to the hospital.”
“No,” Jonathan says. “We’ll take him. You can’t be anywhere near this.”
“Oh, come on!” Eddie argues. “What, they’ll think I’ve turned to mauling for my next santic ritual and brought Steve to a doctor when it failed!?!”
“He’s right,” Dustin frowns. “You can’t take him. You can’t afford to be associated with so much as a papercut!”
He gasps at Dustin and looks around, but no one is on his side. “This is ridiculous!”
“And not up for debate,” Hopper snaps. He eases Steve to his feet. “Wheeler and Jonathan will take him, and I’ll follow. That’s it.”
“What!”
“That’s complete bullshit!”
“Quiet!” Hopper shouts, and a hush befalls the group. “This is not a democracy! The fewer people involved, the better. Now, the Demowolves are gone, which, despite the hiccup, was the goal. Everyone, go home and stop holding us up.” He glares at Dustin and Robin. “Unless you want him to bleed out?”
“I’ll be fine,” Steve hisses. “Promise. I’ll see you guys at the station.”
Jonathan tucks himself on Steve’s opposite side. “We’ll keep you guys updated,” he says. “I promise.”
Eddie swallows as they limp toward Nancy’s Station Wagon. Dustin kicks at the dirt, and Robin runs a shaky hand down her face. Eddie faces the rest of their small party and puts on his most responsible voice. “So, who needs a ride home?”
Steve doesn’t show his face for two days. He moves slowly through the filling radio station when he does, swatting away hands that try to help him settle against the couch. Max wastes no time and claims the seat next to him, glaring Dustin into submission before he can complain. Eddie snorts, the big softie. He spies the edge of a bandage at Steve’s collar, but the arm isn’t in a sling, so it can’t be too bad. “So,” he says. “What’s the damage?”
“Well, I’m not going to lose it if that’s what you’re asking,” Steve sighs. “It was a lot of stitching, though. Apparently, a Demowhater’s tooth is a bit longer than a large dog’s but has the same basic shape. Which really helped sell the story of an animal attack.” His eyes slip to Robin. “And yes, they gave me a rabies shot. Which was NOT fun.”
“I’m glad we didn't lose you, dingus,” Robin smiles. “We’ve got some complaints about our recent sound effects while you were away.”
“They just don’t get it,” Eddie sighs. “I’m going for dramatic irony, not literally matching sound effects with your words.”
Robin’s points, a ‘see what I mean’ tilt to her eyebrows, and Eddie throws his hands up. “Fine! No one appreciates art anymore.”
Steve grins and settles deeper into the couch. “I’ll be out of commission for the next few weeks, so you'll have to deal with Eddie for a little longer. I think I'll be back in swinging shape by the crawl,” he kicks Max’s good leg. “Guess you and I will be radio buddies for a bit.”
“Great,” Max mumbles. She stares ahead before shifting closer. “I’m glad you’re ok.”
“Is that concern I hear?” Steve gasps. “From Mad Max!?”
“Forget I said anything!” Max snaps, but her lip twitches. “I could drive, you know,” she offers suddenly. “If you’re not up for it. It’s my left leg that’s still healing.”
“Oh, I know,” Steve snorts, and he drops his head against the couch. “I’ll talk to Hop.”
She sits up. “Really?”
Steve nods and leans close. “Between you and me,” he murmurs. “We’re not exactly risking our lives on these things, and I’ve done the same amount of damage sitting in a car as swinging a bat. I don’t see the problem as long as I ride with you. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll speak to him.”
She surges forward, and Steve yelps. “Easy, easy!”
Her hug loosens. “Thanks, Steve.”
“No problem,” Steve says. “Besides, I’d rather you’d be the relief driver. You’ve got more nerve than everyone combined.”
She lifts with a smirk. “Of course, I do. Look at these nerds.”
“Why does she keep calling us that?” Eddie whispers, and Dustin shrugs.
“Alright, people,” Hopper starts. He’s casual today, decked out in loose-fitted pants and a brown jacket. He sits before them instead of looming, and the entire atmosphere relaxes. “Let’s make this quick.”
There's not much they can do between crawls, so meetings like this are more of a social gathering than anything productive. They hang out, trade theories, catch up, and a few couples disappear into hidden offices or private rooftops to do things they clearly could do at home. Well, except for Eleven. From what he can tell, these are her only real moments of socialization, but it’s not like he can talk. He’s had no one to confide in after the Hellfire club got out of dodge before hell literally broke loose.
He talks to them over the phone, but it’s not the same. At least here, in these in-between moments, laughing with Robin and hosting small campaigns with two new members, everything feels normal.
Four more meetings pass before the crawl rears its tortoise head. His fingers tap as he pulls into the station ten minutes late. The crawls still scare him shitless, even if they’re rolling into their fifteenth one without any progress. He knows the others are getting frustrated, sees it in the way Eleven holds her jaw and Max taps her cane, but he hopes they never find Vecna, or at least if they do, it's his fucking corpse. Rotting and charred and demobat food.
He’s closing the car door when Max storms out. “Hey,” He waves. “What’s going-woah.”
She shoves by him without a word, her face splotchy and furious in the lowering sun, and he holds his tongue. Lucas runs out a second later, almost knocking him over in his rush. “Max! Wait!”
Eddie curses and contemplates jumping back in the van. They don’t really need him for this. He typically holds down the fort with Robin, Will, Max, and Joyce. A bit overcrowded, but a position he’d raise his hand for without complaint. Besides, someone has to be here with a weapon on the off chance everything goes to shit.
“Fuck it,” Eddie sighs and steps into the station. He makes his way quickly to the hidden stairs and tenses as raised voices echo up the stairwell.
There are fewer people than he expected. Hopper and Eleven are nowhere to be seen, and he can’t see a hint of Steve’s hair. Eddie checks his watch and frowns. They only have about two hours of sunlight left to get into position. They’ll be pushing their luck if they leave any later.
No one reacts when he steps in, and another warning bell goes off. He settles slowly next to Dustin, leaning against the wall instead of sinking into the couch. “What’s going on?”
“The crawl’s canceled,” Will says, and he jumps. He didn’t hear the kid approach. “We got confirmation thirty minutes ago.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. He’s not exactly seeing the problem. “That...sucks?”
“Of course it does,” Robin groans. She’s taking up the entire second couch, lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling. “I could be out with a certain someone right now!”
Right, Robin’s super secret lover.
“How do we know they canceled?” Eddie asks. “I thought Murray didn’t get in for another few days.”
“He made a call,” Joyce says. She’s biting her nails, even though her relief is palpable that no one has to enter the gate. “And provided a surprisingly complex code.”
“Which I cracked by the way,” Robin adds. "Which said, and I quote, 'abort, abort. Crawl canceled until further notice. Don't get arrested.'"
“They could’ve found something,” Nancy’s insisting. She’s pacing the front of the room, illuminated by the projector light. “Why else cancel so close on the same day!”
“We don’t know that, Nance,” Jonathan reasons. “Anything could’ve happened. Technical difficulties, engine problems, hell, they could’ve just delayed it.”
She frowns, and Mike steps in. “She’s right. They’ve never done this before. They’ve delayed, sure, but only by a few hours. It’s never been this ambiguous.”
“Sorry, I’m still catching up,” Eddie interrupts. “Why did Red book it like the building was coming down?”
They look at each other. “Steve cancelled too.”
“For what?!” Pretty boy never cancels. He’s all for the crawls even if he thinks they’re pointless.
“He says he's sick,” Dustin says.
“He is sick, dingus.”
“He sounded drunk!” Dustin shouts. “And how are you so sure? You haven’t even seen him today!”
Robin rolls her eyes. “It’s because we’re connected. We’re Russian soul-bonded, remember?”
“What the hell does that have to do with Max?” Eddie says.
“She wanted to drive,” Will sighs, and it clicks into place.
“Oh,” he nods. “Well, good thing it doesn’t matter. No one’s driving tonight.”
“I am,” Nancy snaps and grabs her jacket. “I’m going to the church. Maybe I can see what’s going on in MAC-Z.”
“Nance,” Jonathan sighs.
“No!” She spits. “Something is going on. It’s not just the burn, but the patrolmen have been acting weird all day. Tense. It has to mean something.” She stalks toward the stairs. “You can either come with me or sit here, your choice.” She disappears up the stairs without another word.
Jonathan looks around helplessly before shrugging. He runs after her, snagging his coat before taking the stairs two at a time.
“I’m going after Eleven,” Mike announces. “That fight just now with Hop? She’ll want someone to talk to.”
“She was here?!” How much happened in the ten fucking minutes he missed?! “And where did she,” He trails off as Mike heads for the trap door. “Right, the tunnels. Because there are fucking tunnels under fucking Hawkins. God, there’s so much going on here that it’s hard to keep track.”
“Tell me about it,” Robin laughs. “The tunnels tripped me up, too!”
“Stop, Mike,” Joyce calls. She gathers her own jacket and places a hand on Will’s arms. “I can drive you there. It’ll be faster.” Mike pauses, and Joyce applies the pressure. “Come on, this way you’ll beat her home, and I can distract Hopper. Give you a bit more time, plus, how were you planning to get home?”
Mike folds under the final point. He nods and bounds up the stairs, the rude little shit not waiting for anyone to follow.
Joyce shakes her head and grabs her keys. She looks at the room before pausing. Will still stands in the corner, a far-off look on his face. “Honey? You ok?”
“Sorry,” Will jumps. He rubs his neck and gathers his things. “Just a little tired, I guess.” He stands in the middle for a moment, looking around as if something’s on the edge of his attention before shaking his head. “I’m ready.”
Joyce’s lips thin before nodding. She places a hand on Will’s back and waves at the room. “Bye, guys. Sorry, today turned out to be a bust.”
“Not your fault,” Eddie shrugs. “They can’t all be boring.”
Her smile wanes. “Dangerous,” she corrects.
Eddie holds up his hands in silent surrender. He knows how she feels about the crawls; she hasn’t exactly been subtle. “Night, Ms. Byers.”
“Night,” she smiles. “Get home safe, you guys.”
“And then there were three,” Robin mutters. She swings her legs, letting the momentum pull her into a sitting position. “Well, this place cleared out fast,” Robin snorts. She stands up with a stretch. “You guys wanna help me a bit before bailing? I’ve got some things to set up for tomorrow's broadcast before I try and salvage this night.”
Eddie looks around; any lingering anxiety about tonight's crawl has drained completely. “Why not?” Eddie shrugs.
“Steve was supposed to be my ride home,” Dustin huffs. “Can you drop me off, Eddie?”
“Why, I’d be delighted,” he grins and drags Dustin close. “Come on, let us rifle through their shitty record collection.”
It’s quiet while they pitter through the station. Robin wasn’t kidding when she said there was a lot to set up. He can’t imagine Steve doing half this cataloging and referencing every morning. He's already drained, and it's only been forty minutes. He doesn't let it prevent him from ribbing their music taste. It’s chock-full of Pop hits and disco of all things. He tries to sneak in Led Zeppelin, possibly wake the town up with some hidden Slayer tracks, but Robin runs a tight ship.
“Hell, no,” She snaps and snatches the record out of his hands. “You’ll get us arrested with this!”
“Over music?!” he scoffs. “They have literal bigger fish to fry than a few songs of Black Sabbath.”
She snaps her fingers. “Out of my booth. Come on.”
He slumps, low and exaggerated, and stumbles against the wall. “You wound me, Buckley,” he announces. "How can I help in these conditions!”
Robin raises a middle finger at his antics, and he laughs. It’s here, under the warm fluorescent lights, that he sees the headlights swerve dangerously down the road. Eddie frowns and bends the blinds. He squints through the setting sun. “Is that Harrington's car?”
Two heads lift in his direction. Dust races for the window and shoves him out of the way. He yanks the blinds open just as the car parks. “Unbelievable,” Dustin scoffs. “Why even show up?”
A moment later, the doorknob twists, and Dustin starts in before Steve’s foot hits the concrete. “Where have you been!” he demands. Eddie smirks and tries to sneak back into the booth. Dustin can be a real bitch when he’s in the mood for it. “You’re like an hour late! We can’t do a crawl even if we wanted to without our driver-” Dustin stops. Glass shatters against concrete, stale coffee staining the floor brown as Robin's hands lift to her mouth. Eddie follows her line of sight.
Steve stands in the mouth of the front door, leaning heavily against it as if it’s the only thing keeping him up. There are heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes, drooping things that change the entire color of his skin to a sickly grey. His hair hangs flat and lifeless against his face.
He looks like death warmed over.
Steve stumbles in, and suddenly they’re all moving. Dustin gets a shoulder under Steve’s left arm while Robin settles under his right. “Are you ok?” She plants a hand on his cheek and looks frantically around the room. “Holy shit, dude. You’re burning up!”
“You shouldn’t have come if you’re this sick!” Dustin shouts. His free hand moves around Steve in a flurry. From his face to his neck to his chest. Like he could will the sickness away with his touch alone.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. He hovers in the corner, not sure how he can help. “If Red couldn't drive, then I'd do it. I don’t mind driving that much.”
“I’m not,” Steve pants, and his skin pales further. He looks at all of them, but his eyes are drooping and unfocused. The lights flicker. “I’m not feeling so good.” He lurches forward, stomach visibly rolling, and Eddie jumps away from the inevitable spew of vomit.
Except it’s not bile or pieces of whatever fancy food qualifies as a meal for Steve Harrington. It’s red. Overwhelming red. It shoots out of him like he’s auditioning for the fucking Exorcist.
Blood spatters to the floor, and it doesn’t stop. It waterfalls out of him. Thick and heavy and so fucking much. Eddie blinks as droplets splatter against his cheek, and suddenly, he’s back at home, screaming as Chrissy’s body breaks.
“STEVE!”
Eddie blinks, and Steve’s on all fours. Robin’s kneeling next to him, her jeans soak up the blood, and Eddie's stomach flips. The lights are flickering, and suddenly she’s staring at him, mouth moving frantically, but there’s no sound. Why is there no sound?
“Eddie!” He jumps, and she’s right in front of him, dripping with maroon. “Eddie! We don’t have time for you to freak out! Get. On. The fucking. RADIO!”
She pushes him, and it’s like she shoves a battery in his back. He scrambles for the table, knocking over papers and wayward mics as he dives for the headphones. “Mayday, Mayday!” he stammers. He glances up, and Steve is still going. Leaking blood with a low groan under Dustin and Robin’s screams. “Shit, man, Code Red, whatever! If anyone is listening! Get the fuck back here!”
Static rings through the headphones, and he swears. Eddie pushes every button, tries to remember every lesson Dustin has hammered into him over the last few months, but it’s all blank. “Code Red, Code Red! Fuck is anyone there?!” He smashes the mic against the radio, and the lights flicker harder. “Goddamn’t, it’s not working!!”
A cough breaks through the noise. They turn with bated breaths, and Eddie believes for a moment that it’s over. That Steve will lean back with a smile and wipe the blood off his face like he did the demobats.
Steve looks up, and his eyes are rolled white.
Panic spreads immediately.
“No, no, no, no, NO!” Dustin turns to him, tears and terror leaking down his face. “Eddie! Please!”
“What’s his favorite song!” Robin shrieks. “What’s his favorite song!!”
“I’m trying!” Eddie shouts. He twists every nob, flips every switch, but all he’s met with are blinking lights and harsh static. “V-vecna! He must be messing with the electricity somehow!”
Dustin scrambles to his feet. He slips in the growing puddle and only just manages to right himself. “W-We have to turn it off,” He cries. He slams into the breaker box and rips it open. “If we can restart the system, then we can call for help-”
CRACK!
Steve collapses, boneless and glassy-eyed in Robin’s lap, his neck set at an unnatural angle. Everything stops for a heartstopping second before a wail fills the studio.
“STEVE!!” Dustin falls over himself. Tremors run through his entire frame as he reaches for Steve’s body. “Steve, please!” He sobs. “W-we have to get him to a hospital. W-we can-They can-”
“Dustin,” Robin says, and her breath hitches. Her hands hover over Steve’s head. She’s crying so hard that every word sounds like a gasp for air. “He’s gone. H-he’s not breathing.”
“Then we need to start CPR!” Dustin cries.
“His neck,” Eddie adds, and they both turn. He runs a hand down his face, and it comes back wet with tears and blood. “His neck is…Chrissy’s,” He swallows, and his vision blurs further. “I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes so tight that it hurts. This can't be happening again. Vecna's supposed to be dead. He's supposed to be so hurt that the crawls are boring and danger-free. He's supposed to be done opening gates.
The body jerks.
Dustin and Robin yelp. They freeze, staring each other down in disbelief. “D-did you,” she whispers. “Was that-”
Blood spurts from Steve’s back, and everyone screams. Dustin and Robin scramble away as the body jerks again, and something tears through Steve's shirt.
“What the fuck!!” Eddie shrieks.
It’s something out of fucking Alien. It’s small, no bigger than a cat, but somehow getting larger with each second. A high-pitched yowl echoes from the creature as it continues to grow and rip through Steve’s body.
“What the hell is happening!” Robin wails.
“What the FUCK!”
“Code Red, Code Red!” Dustin’s screaming, somehow back at the microphone, but it’s no use. The entire station is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. “I repeat, we have a CODE FUCKING RED!”
Once, when Eddie was still living with his father, he had a pet tarantula. It was his dad's pet more than his, but he didn’t mind taking care of it. They’re a lot more docile than people give them credit for. Only rearing back when actively threatened. The shedding, though, has always stuck with him. How they heave and shift from their old bodies into a new one. It was unsettling.
This is horrifying.
Something pulls itself out of Steve’s back. Rolling and shifting in a way that makes him sick. The creature falls into the puddle with a nauseating splat. Robin’s breath hitches, and Eddie swallows hard around a throatful of bile. It takes two tries to pick up his spear, and he takes a shaky step in front of Robin and Dustin. He's not going to make it. This creature is bigger than the others, almost bigger than him, and they don’t have a wild man ready to bite the heads off monsters and jump in nail-bat swinging.
It doesn’t matter, though, because he can buy Dustin and Robin some time, and it’s what Steve would’ve done. Stepped in front of everyone when the odds were down. Eddie steadies his heart and widens his grip. He can’t look at Steve’s body, can’t look at the man who inspired him to be brave, broken beyond repair. But he can embody his spirit.
The Demowolf wobbles behind Steve’s corpse. Its leathery skin is covered in a light dusting of fur, with dull blue stripes running down its limbs. Its head turns, the massive jaw falling open.
Its eyeless skull fixates on them and roars.