Chapter Text
Jonathan can feel tears drying on his cheeks, skin pulled tight. He’s gripping Mike by the sides of his neck, and he can’t hear him. Mike is screaming himself hoarse, he knows that, he’s seeing that and he wants to calm him down, but his brain is static. Will is gone.
He felt himself shut down the moment his little brother’s body just- vanished. He had been possessed by fear since he noticed Will just standing in the middle of the diner they stopped at, unmoving. He had been taken over by panic once he had seen his eyes rolled back. He had felt terror walk with spidery long legs all over him once Will’s body had started to float and he couldn’t help, couldn’t make sense of what was happening. But once he disappeared into thin air above their heads, leaving them to stare at cheap buzzing neon lights, he blanked. He had grabbed Mike on auto-pilot; he was pulling at his long hair, walking in a circle under the spot Will had been moments ago. Jonathan could register not wanting Mike to hurt himself under the heavy cloud of nothingness filling his head.
Argyle touches his shoulder. He grips him harder once he notices no reaction. “Jonathan,” he whispers right in his ear, voice watery. Argyle starts shaking him, and the cloud filling his head starts to dissipate. He feels a tug on shirt and he turns to see Eleven full on crying, blood under her nose. He wills himself to come back to this moment, a moment he had been dreading ever since they got Will back years ago and the unease of losing him again had lodged in his heart, so that he can move and do something.
“-gone! Where is he- what-wh-what happened, I can’t-” Mike’s voice is starting to give out, but he goes on shouting, seemingly unaware of the scratch in his throat.
“Mike.” Jonathan grips him tighter, reality solidifying again along with his grip. “Mike!”
Mike closes his mouth on a grimace, a sob making his chest heave. He’s terrified and he clutches Jonathan’s shoulders in turn. “I don’t know what’s happening.” He whispers, throat spasming with the effort to talk. “Where is he? Jonathan, what do we do?” his eyes keep flickering from Jonathan’s face to the space above them, as if expecting Will to reappear any second.
Jonathan doesn’t know what they should do. He doesn’t know what happened, he doesn’t know where Will could be. He just wants his brother by his side. Safe. He looks to Eleven; she’s dabbing at the blood under her nose with the back of her hand. Sorrow marks her face and she doesn’t stop crying. Jonathan lets go of Mike to turn to her, but she lets go of his shirt first. Eleven takes a deep breath and straightens, gaze lost beyond their reach.
“We go home,” she says.
*
Will gasps himself awake, his rib cage burning. He feels weightless; it’s hard to breathe and the chills that desperately want to escape his body because of the oppressive dome of cold surrounding him have no room to melt out of him. He shakes his head, mind burning, and tries to take in what’s happening.
The first thing that comes into focus is the dust flowing down. A small wave of panic climbs in his throat and he wiggles his legs as if testing the ground to get ready to bolt. But there’s no ground; he’s suspended in the air. His rib cage is burning because he’s being held up by countless vines in a tight grip, curling around him like possessive snakes. He swallows the small moment of panic, closing his eyes to see his sister’s tear-streaked face. Right.
He’s in the Upside Down again, and he has to be there. William, you’ve come back to us.
His neck prickles, and he tries to chase the sound, turning his head as best as he can. It doesn’t sound like a single voice speaking to him, but a hundred tiny voices speaking into the same microphone, amplified and echoing all at once. He remembers hearing something like this in his head when he was here the first time, but in his delirious state he could never figure out if the voices were saying something to him; it just sounded like white noise born out of a shush whispered to comfort him.
Scarlet lightning thunders above him; the grip of the vines gets tighter. An old house looms in front of him, looking seconds away from falling apart. A tall figure stands before it, vines around its feet. One.
As soon as Will thinks of the name, the monster turns around. It pauses and then raises its arms, starting to walk towards him, footsteps slow and heavy. The nearer the creature gets, the lower the vines bring Will until One is right in front of him and at eye-level. Will’s mind keeps burning, fire pushing at the edges ready to burst free. He feels his hands tighten into fists. “I found you,” the monster says.
“Years ago, I found you first. Your pain, the untapped potential flowing in your veins. You’re so similar to me, you have always been. I had to have you, William.” One lowers his arms, and Will’s feet touch the ground. “Before everything else.”
No, the voices echo in his head again, and this time he squeezes his eyes shut, grunting in pain. We need you. Us. Fight It.
Will pants, head lolling to the side. He forces his eyes open. “I’m nothing like you,” he spits.
The monster laughs. A horrifying sound, deep and grotesque. Its face twists, and a long finger moves in a cutting motion in front of Will. The vines let him go, and he stumbles. He falls with one knee on the ground, hands keeping him steady on either side. He looks up, not wanting to lose sight of One. He always had the urge to look at monsters head on, keep them in his vision. Better to look at what was coming for you than have it sneak up behind you. The monster puts one of his claws on Will’s head.
“Forgotten. Unloved. A mistake. Different. Sensitive.” It’s taking everything Will has not to tremble full on. His nails dig into the ground, and the dirt under his fingers seems to send tiny sparks up his hands, his arms. Fight it.
“You’ve shown me what you’re capable of, William. Don’t make me take it from you. Give it willingly, and you’ll be part of me. All the pain,” the claw tightens, and Will sees the face of his father. Kids at school sneering at him. Three figures on bikes ahead of him, leaving him behind. “All the suffering. All the sorrow,” he sees Mike’s face marked with disgust. He sees Eleven on the ground, crying. He sees Jonathan looking at him with pity. His mother sigh and turn away from him. “Will stop. It will all be avenged. Ichor for power, power for vengeance.”
The images in his mind blur, the pain weighing him down. He frantically shakes his head to clear it, but it seems to only make it worse, spots of light on his arms. They seem to be coming from his skin, buzzing down and up. He can feel the fire in his head pushing to break free and Will feels his whole body go numb. Free it. Think of the good. The light.
For a second he imagines one of the hundred voices whispering to him is Eleven’s voice, ringing above the rest like she had done earlier, a lighthouse in the crashing fire waves of his mind. Think of the good.
Nights spent watching movies with El; rides all over town with Jonathan and Argyle; old Dungeons and Dragons campaigns; his mother making up stories on the spot for him whenever he couldn’t sleep. A hand holding his, reassuring him he would have someone to go crazy with. The good had happened, the good had been there, bathed in light.
And light was whispering to him, cascading like butterflies on his arms. He squeezes the ground one more time before slowly getting up, the hand on his head falling away. He keeps his gaze on the electricity coming out of him, brain catching up with what was happening just as the fire finally, finally bursts through and Will’s body spasms. He can hear the blood flowing in his own veins, rushing like an unstoppable force. He aches all over, a dull sensation locking his limbs up until a distant sound like something breaking grabs his whole attention and everything stops.
He stares at the blown-up street lamp a few feet from where he’s standing. He takes a breath, clearer than every breath he’s ever taken. Power is laced through him, and his hands are glowing. He turns back to the monster and plants his feet on the ground, anchoring himself. It’s like the glow of his hands guides them to move up, not to shield himself, but to lash out.
“I’m nothing like you, Henry.” Will screams, and light explodes.
*
The Wheeler’s basement had seen its fair share of people over the years, and yet Mike had never felt so stuffed being there than right now. Everyone was there. Even Eddie, who was apparently in hiding because Vecna’s murders were being blamed on him. They had spotted Dusting and Steve driving around as soon as they made it back in town; turns out, they had Eddie in the trunk, trying to move him to a secret location. They wasted no time getting everyone to meet at the Wheeler house, Dustin taking over the communication once the sheer state of dejected desperation everyone else was in became clear. Thankfully, Mike’s parents and Holly were out, something to do with the police, giving them time to talk and try to make sense of the situation.
Vecna. That was how everyone in Hawkins was calling One, the monster who took Will. Max had been a victim as well, recounting what happened to her. Everything matched until she came down from the air, while Will disappeared.
Eleven sat in the middle of the basement, going over who was One and how he became what he is. I sent him to the Upside Down, she said, eyes downcast, guilt clear in her voice.
Mike can’t stop staring at an old drawing of the party Will had made; he’d been so happy when Will had shily handed it over so that Mike could hang it on the wall, so quietly pleased at his praise. Everyone is arguing, voices loud, scared but determined to defeat yet another monster thrown into their lives. But Mike can’t stop staring at that drawing, and he can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen and he can’t do anything about it. He feels a nudge on his left, and he turns to see Jonathan, looking at him with so much understanding and just- knowingly, that he nods and immediately turns to Nancy on his other side, grabbing her hand. She looks surprised but doesn’t say anything, just squeezes his hand back.
“-but why Will. Maybe because he’s already been to the Upside Down?” Dustin asks, pacing.
“It has to be that. Maybe Vecna already saw Will when he was taken the first time?” Robin bounces back, biting her nail. There’s murmurs of agreement around the room. Mike feels like he’s choking.
“No.” Everything stops as Eleven speaks again, voice firm. “The Upside Down. It needs Will.”
“What?” Jonathan asks, elbows on his knees and edging closer to the edge of his seat. Lucas grabs Max’s hand, sitting down beside her. Their eyes are wide, mirroring everyone else. “What does that mean?”
Eleven stands up suddenly, arms crossing protectively around herself. “I don’t know. The Upside Down told me it needs Will.”
Lucas lets out a noise of confusion. “The Upside Down told you?”
Eleven nods. “Yes. It is- alive. It is sick. It doesn’t want monsters anymore. It needs Will.”
Dustin closes his mouth with a click. “Dude, am I high right now? Eddie, did I get high from passive smoke?”
“Nobody even smoked, Henderson,” Eddie says, not taking his confused expression away from Eleven.
“Somebody sure wants to smoke, though.” Argyle chimes; he’s getting jittery again.
Jonathan stands up, coming to stand face to face with Eleven. He takes her hands in his, uncoiling them from their protective cross over herself. “El, I- I don’t understand. Can you find Will?” She shakes her head yes, and she’s crying again. She’s so exhausted that she doesn’t even seem to register the tears anymore, just lets them flow.
“I can try and see him, but- I don’t understand either. I don’t know more. I know Will can stop everything and that it has to be him there. It’s like I’ve always known Will and my mind has always found his in su-such an easy way,” she hiccups, taking in a big breath. “When I saw my memories, I also saw Will in the Upside Down when he was little. He was in Castle Byers and it was like- like the monsters couldn’t get in there for a while. And then I heard the Upside Down say it needed him. To stay.” She falls forward to hug Jonathan as the last sentence tumbles from her mouth, hiding her face in his neck as everyone starts shouting again.
“He’s not staying there! We’re getting him back! We have to get him back. We need a gate.” Mike still feels like choking, but the fear Eleven’s words knocked into him is stronger than the sensation of having no air to breathe. Dustin puts a hand on his chest to calm him down, keep him still. “I don’t care, I’m going myself- I’m not leaving him there!”
“Calm down, Wheeler,” Steve soothes, patting his head.
“Mike, Will could- he could stop everything. You heard Eleven, all of this could be starting to stop right now. Let her find him first and see what’s going on.” Dustin doesn’t let go of Mike as he speaks, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. Steve goes to grab Mike’s nape while Lucas nods behind Dustin. “Mike, this could end for good,” he adds.
Mike looks at three of them, feeling his sister’s gaze behind him. She stayed seated while he leapt up, something like pity on her face. His gaze goes back to Lucas, the last to speak.
“I don’t care. I’m not trading Will for the- for the world. I’m not. I don’t care for a world without him.” Mike keeps his head straight, making sure to look from Lucas to everyone else in the room. He’s dead serious and he’s not stopping.
The basement seems to be holding its breath, no one daring to utter a word or look away from Mike, a paladin with his heart in his palms. The tension breaks when El breaks her hug with Jonathan, turning to face Mike as well.
“Let me see him first. Find him. And then we go.” Eleven speaks directly to Mike, but the sentiment echoes for Jonathan as well.
Mike looks at her, one of his best friends. Ex- girlfriend as of a day ago. They didn’t even need to discuss it; once they had a few moments alone in the diner, they smiled sadly at each other and acknowledged that things didn’t feel the same. He would always trust her with his life, though. And Will’s as well.
A long moment passes before Mike nods; Dustin lets him go and everyone goes to crowd Eleven. “We need something to cover her eyes,” Lucas says, looking around the basement.
Eddie jumps up, taking a bandana out of his jacket with a flourish. “Will this do?”
*
Twin vines snake towards him at full speed, colliding with his chest. The impact of their bite is not a simple sting, but a full howling-pain whipping, dragging flesh away with them. Will spits out a mouthful of blood, looking down at the wounds. He’s delirious with pain and exhaustion, his powers draining him. He touches a hand to one of the marks; he hears himself think that they look like deer antlers painted on his chest. Henry is coming at him again. After Will had screamed and let out blinding light to make way for the force of power breaking the dam, he heard it. The monster grunting. When the sun from his hands subsided and he could see again, Henry was missing an arm. The same arm Will had broken before. This time it couldn’t be unbent, having become a mess of burned vines, a lump hanging by the monster’s side. It had remained still, Will taking advantage of those few seconds and trying to tap back into the electricity filling him, but he wasn’t fast enough. The monster launched two vines at him, striking him.
Will looks past his hand covered in blood, on the ground where the dark red liquid he spit had landed. It didn't look dead, the soil. It looked green. Alive. The hissing sound of vines recoiling to spring at him again made his head snap up, just in time to feel searing pain along his legs where they left cuts on his calves, his thighs.
“It’s a pity, William.” Henry keeps moving towards him, slow and steady as he’s always been so far. “Such a pity that I’ll have to take your blood from you when you could have freely given it to me.”
Will presses both hands on the wounds on his chest, rivulets of blood steadily coming out of them. We need it. We need it. The voices seem to be starting to chant in his head, growing louder and louder.
Will is tired. He’s confused, he’s hurt, he’s bleeding out. He’s sad, he’s jaded, he just broke in his powers- powers he knows nothing about- crawling through pain. He’s in terrible pain now, and he’s angry. He’s so fucking angry.
He grits his teeth. “It’s not yours!” he shouts, chest on fire with the effort. “It’s not yours. You’re not taking anything. I’m the one who’s going to take everything from you.”
A vine comes flying at him again, aimed at his face, but he turns to dodge it and grabs it instead. It goes wild in his grip, trying to break free, but Will doesn’t let go. He grabs it harder and harder. “I want it to stop,” he says, sparks coming out of his hand.
“I want it to stop!” The vine catches fire under the sparks he covered it in, every single burned thread surrounding him and connecting back to Henry almost shrieking in pain, a shrill sound filling the air. The vines slime back towards the monster, the one in his grip turning to ash. Will steps on one of the ones trying to retreat, bending down to grab it instead. Thunder claps in the sky, making it turn red for a moment. Will tugs, dragging the monster with it. The vine seems to connect to its side; Will closes his eyes and imagines tugging it again, taking away the part of the monster it’s connected to. Light surges behind his eyes and when he opens them again he’s faced with what he just imagined: a lump of burned flesh taken away from Henry, discarded on the ground, the vine unmoving in his hand. “No," it’s the first time he hears clear inflection in the monster’s voice. Will thinks it sounds a lot like agitation.
He feels filled to the brim with the power to stop Henry, stop everything, go back and see everyone, just a little longer, just a little more. He bends down to grab a handful of vines, hands on fire. His chest feels torn apart, but he can’t stop now. He doesn’t drag the vines this time; he advances as he leaves a trail of fire on them. He wants to face Henry.
End it. End it and stay with us.
Will doesn’t notice the green burgeoning under the drops of blood he leaves behind; he doesn’t notice the ghost of his sister shadowing him, moving her mouth, hands pressed to her own chest as if feeling his wounds. He notices the monster in front of him, and the minute panic in its empty gaze. The time of monsters is coming to an end.
He lets go of the vines and moves to grab Henry’s neck; his breath leaves him as its remaining claw impales itself in his side. The pain is dull. His upper body is torn apart. Will’s arms stumble for a moment, blinking the pain away from him, banishing it to another dimension entirely. He grabs the monster’s neck and rests his forehead against Henry’s.
He sees him as a kid; alone in that big house behind them. He sees him cradle spiders and stare at the bodies of his mother and sister, unflinching, while the voice of an angel fills the room. He sees him as the almost-smiling blond boy doting on Eleven, and he sees him as he falls down in the Upside Down, lightning claiming his flesh and new body branching into burned vines. And Will sees himself call for that same lighting to make it all end.
“No! William, let me go!” the voice doesn’t sound deep anymore, it doesn’t impose itself with a boom; it sounds youthful, impatient. Will doesn’t open his eyes.
He feels the lighting come down and it hits Will; the void behind his eyes goes red, and he feels it find its way out through him, a waterfall smoothly surging down, coming out at the points of contact between Will and Henry. Screaming fills his ears, but the cacophony of the tiny voices never falters. His hands are cold while his forehead is burning up.
Thunder follows the lighting, and everything ends.
Will heaves, hands clutching nothing. He tips forwards now that he isn’t resting against anything, and he falls face down on the ground. His hands break his fall, and he collapses on his injured side first. He opens his eyes then, the pain going from dull to unbearable, nothing else to grab his attention but the agony spreading everywhere in his body. He maneuvers on his back, black ash sticking to him. No other traces of the monster or the vines remain.
Will tries to breathe but he feels blood bubbling up in his throat again. He turns his head and it comes out, trickling down his cheek. He’s bleeding out.
As blood seeps into the rotten soil beneath him, he starts to understand. Thousands of dust particles swim around his cloudy vision. They seem to twinkle back to life into tiny dancing lights, floating down to meet him. He tries to lift a hand to touch one of them, but he can’t. His arm feels too heavy. His eyelids blink slowly, drenched in molasses. Blood pours from the gash on his side, the cuts on his legs, the scratches on his palms, the wounds on his chest - feels like the ground is sucking every drop out of him. William, it calls. It’s you.
You’re the-
“Cure,” he whispers up at the sky. The voices come from up there, from the ground, from the dust turning back into light. It’s the voice of the Upside Down.
Yes. We waited. Kept everything as it was when you left.
Will feels an hysterical laugh come up, killed by the intensity of the pain. He coughs instead, and turns his head again. There’s- flowers near his face. They’re vibrant even in the dark of the perpetual night of the Upside Down - well. Maybe not so perpetual anymore, now.
He thinks of the people he’s leaving. The people he loves. He can help them, he’s pretty sure. This will help. They will lead happy lives, quiet lives free of terror.
“This will help?” he rasps, speaking to the sky still. “The blood. My- life.”
Yes. Cure. Your heart is pure. Your power is pious. The cure for us.
Cure; makes him think of Eleven asking him to sing- oh. She knew. That’s why she told him it had to be him. He smiles and hums in affirmation.
“Take it,” he whispers. He starts humming Boys Don’t Cry.
It seems his permission makes his blood flow faster; Will feels lightheaded, but it’s alright. There’s peace in his reach. Everyone will be okay. He had been useful, and he could rest.
Thank you, William.
Will closes his eyes as a desperate scream makes its way from a jagged circle of light, framing the people he loves and that love him watching him as life drains from him.
*
There’s grass under his feet. Will wiggles his toes and turns his face up to the sun, a sunflower thriving in its warmth. He swings his arms around and follows the motion, turning in a circle. These are the woods behind his old house. He laughs, contentment pouring out of him. Is this the- after? What comes after life? He sets off towards Castle Byers to find out.
He feels phantom touches on his chest. Right, he had wounds there, and on his side as well. His arms, his hands, his legs. He stops to check himself over, but smooth skin is the only thing his hands find. He keeps feeling hands touching him and he resists the urge to shake as his soul registers a shaking motion. He’s okay. He keeps walking, and Castle Byers comes into view. He smiles again, brushing the hair out of his eyes.
No, God, no, please! NO!
The sensation of being touched gets stronger, and there’s a voice coming from- Castle Byers?
Will! Will!
The voice sounds- distraught. The contentment filling Will dims. This person sounds hurt.
His footsteps turn cautious as he comes closer to Castle Byers. He eyes the fort, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Just as he remembers it.
Come back! COME BACK! WILL!
Oh, that’s- that was Mike. Mike is in there? He should check. Maybe he beat him there, even if Will was always the fastest runner out of the party.
He feels something wet drip down his face. He pats his cheeks, but there’s nothing there. Something is tugging him to open the blinds of his fort. Go on. Go back.
That wasn’t Mike’s voice; it sounded like a hundred people speaking at once. Will bites his lip, trepidation making his heart thump in his chest. It hurts. It really hurts, actually. The sun isn’t shining anymore.
WILL!
Will huffs and opens the blinds, ducking inside Castle Byers-
-he lifts off the ground as he opens his eyes, alight with a white glow. He takes a painful breath, slamming back down. Hands are on him everywhere, putting pressure on his wounds. He’s home.