Chapter Text
Will’s ankle doesn’t let him forget it’s there.
Every step sends a nauseating pulse up his leg, like the bones are knocking together where they shouldn’t be. Mike keeps his arm firm around Will’s waist, adjusting his grip whenever Will stumbles. Never asking, just knowing.
They’re headed towards the squawk hoping to find Hopper, El or even Holly on the way. Though both of them know how unrealistic that is, even if they don't want to say it.
They walk out the driveway of the Turnbow home, the asphalt is covered in thick black vines that undulate and slither in all directions. If Will looks at them too long it looks like they’re reaching out for him personally.
Like they want to wrap around him again, pin him to a wall, slide down his throat and spread their poison. Corrupting him from the inside out.
“Will!” Mike shouts, squeezing his hand on Will’s waist where he holds him upright.
“Are you okay?” Mike’s mouth is in a thin line of concern, “You weren’t talking and you had that far away look you do when you’re having a crisis” He faces Will, eyes flicking back and forth between Will’s, searching.
“I’m fine,” Will reassures, Mike squints his eyes, “Really, Mike you don’t need to worry.”
In an instant Will’s breath is ripped from his lungs, like it was never his to begin with. The world tears sideways.
Cold earth. A forest eaten by shadows.
Long grey arms extending and folding in a rhythm, the ground rushing beneath him.
The movement stops and Will’s eyes dart to the left. He stands still between trees, listening, waiting.
Will feels his stomach drop in an all too familiar pattern as the creature's body shifts, muscles coiling. The world seems to lean with it. As if pulled by the same thread.
He turns.
The ground rushes beneath him in a different direction.
East.
“Will!”
Mike’s voice slams into him, dragging him back into his body.
Will’s legs buckle and he cries out, gasping for air. Mike’s arms immediately find Will, holding onto him as he heaves sobs.
“You’re okay,” Mike whispers, again and again, like if he says it enough times it might stick. His hands shake as they move along Will’s back, holding him closer than necessary. His eyes are wide, breath coming in short uneven gasps.
Will had seen this look before, in the field, the hospital, the shed. Mike afraid for him, not of him.
Everyone else had looked at Will like he was something dangerous. Mike never had.
Tears streak down Will’s face, Mike watches each one almost like he wants to reach out and wipe them off of Will’s face.
“It’s changed direction.” Will manages, voice strained, “it’s going to the barn.”
Mike stills, his hand faltering once on Will’s back, then it firms. “Okay,” He nods once, “then we’re going there.”
The thick upside down air gradually makes its way back into Will’s lungs, making a home inside him once again. Mike stands reaching down to help Will up. Pain shoots through Will’s ankle as his bones grind against each other. Will stifles a gasp, biting his lip.
“Can you stand?” Mike asks, his heart pounding against Will’s side. “I’m going to get a bike from the Turnbow’s”
Will only nods his head in response, Mike detaches himself and Will feels each second tick by, each second escaping him, each second where he should be at the barn helping Robin and his Mom.
Mike returns with the bike, his eyes flicking over Will’s face like he’s checking for something he already knows is there.
“We’ll get to them on time,” he says.
Will wishes Mike would stop reading him so easily. “Yeah,” is all he manages.
Mike swings onto the bike, steadying it with his foot as Will settles onto the back. Will leans forward, his chest pressed to Mike’s back, fingers curling around his shoulders. He keeps his left leg lifted to the side as Mike starts to pedal.
He pedals hard, shoulders hunched, breath coming in fast. The road blurs beneath them, a mix of broken asphalt and vines.
Wind tears at them as they hurry toward the barn, spores streaking past like rain.
Every jostle of the bike sends a sharp ache through Will’s ankle, the splint creaking in protest. Will holds his breath, fingers digging intofd the fabric of Mike’s jacket.
He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, clinging to the rhythm of Mike pedaling. He hates how much he needs Mike, yet at the same time can’t stop reaching for him.
For a moment Will wonders if they will actually run into El and Hopper, he hopes so. But running into them means slowing down and not getting to Robin and Mom in time, he can’t risk that.
The wind stings at his face, cold and wet, carrying the familiar wrongness of the Upside Down with it. The hum settled deep within his bones, like a bee’s nest where only he can hear the loud buzzing.
Will squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on the steady rhythm of Mike’s pedaling, on the way his back rises and falls with each shallow breath.
Will thinks if this is all a part of his plan. If Vecna wanted Will to fall through that gate with the Demogorgon just like he had all those years ago, did Vecna want them to go to the barn? Is he waiting there for them? Is he sending these “now memories” to Will as a way to use him as a spy like last time?
Will leans into Mike, trusting him to keep them upright as the road dips and twists beneath them.
In an instant the air shifts and cracks, like for a second electricity is charging through it and Will knows the Demogorgon has flipped. They’re too late.
The barn’s lights flicker ahead as they arrive. The bike skids, Mike breaks hard, gravel spraying beneath the tires. Will’s ankle crashes against the metal and white-hot pain rips up his leg, stealing the sound from his throat. He gasps, the world tilting as his grip slips.
“Will-”
Mike catches him before he can fall, arms locking around his middle as the bike clatters to the ground beside them. Will clutches at Mike’s jacket, breath coming in sharp, broken pulls.
“Dont make any noise, it can’t know we’re on the other side.” Mike whispers, voice low. Will nods once.
The barn looms in front of them, its lights stuttering, shadows dragging themselves along the walls like something alive. Will can hear faint voices echoing from the other side, his Mom, Erica, Derek-
Will’s breath stutters. His stomach drops.
The edges of the world smear, colour bleeding wrong, red seeping into everything, like light through closed eyelids.
Wood splintering.
A door buckling inward.
Grey fingers digging in, No, not his hands. Too long. Too thin. Tearing-
“Will.”
Mike’s grip tightens, dragging him sideways. Gravel bites into Will’s palms as Mike hauls him down behind the crates, one arm locked tight around his middle, careful of his ankle even now.
The barn surges forward.
The door gives.
A flash- his mother’s face. Her expression fierce, an axe raised in shaking hands. Erica, Robin and Derek clustered behind her, frozen in fear.
Will’s chest tightens until it hurts. He can’t breathe. He can’t look away. He knows in this moment. Knows how it ends.
He can’t let this thing get his Mom, not his mom, not now. Not Robin, not Erica. No Will thinks, the word is tearing through him, desperate. He won't let it happen.
His Mom swings the axe, her shout splitting the air. Will feels the creature’s rage, its hunger. Even so it steps back, she swings again, it takes another step. Re-coiling retreating, although showing no signs of fear.
Until it reaches the threshold stepping outside the now broken barn doors again.
The world detonates.
A bone-deep impact that slams through Will like a gunshot.
The creature is lifted clean off its feet.
Pain erupts everywhere at once. The shock tearing through muscle and spine and straight into Will. He screams, vision fracturing, the barn shattering into shards of motion and sound.
“Will!?” Mike’s voice is quiet under the ringing blaring through Will’s skull. “Will!”
Sobs rack through Will’s body, he twists inward clutching at his stomach, even though the pain reverberates everywhere.
“Will! What's wrong? What hurts?” Mike’s voice is frantic at Will’s side.
Tears stream down Will’s cheeks, his chest heaves. Mike holds him, his hands are warm on Will’s shoulders.
Will feels the gravel under his fingers. Cold. Real. He clings to it, just for a heartbeat.
The air crackles and Mike gasps looking up. He plants his hand over Will’s mouth and ducks behind a crate.
Something massive rushes past their hiding place, so close it rattles the crates and sends dust raining down over them.
Will feels it before he sees it, the echo of hunger tearing away from him all at once.
The Demogorgon doesn’t stop.
It barrels across the yard, claws tearing through dirt. Will watches as its arms extend and close in a rhythm he is painfully familiar with. It’s strange to see the creature from this angle rather than its own, Will thinks for a brief moment.
It continues fleeing until vanishing into the trees in a blur of grey and shadow. The pain in Will’s body dissipates the further away it gets.
Will gasps against Mike’s palm, Mike removes it quickly as Will pushes himself upright, muscles weak and aching.
“The gate.” he chokes, voice raw.
Mike doesn’t hesitate.
“Can you move?”
Will nods even though the world still spins.
Mike’s grip tightens, hauling him up, one arm locked around Will’s waist as they break from cover.
They half-run, half-stumble across the gravel, the barn lights flickering wildly overhead.
Will’s ankle protests, he pushes the pain down, ignoring it. They need to get out of here his ankle isn’t going to be what stops him. Will forces himself to take a steady breath. Mike’s hand is warm on his waist, a tether to something real. They have to keep moving.
With every step, the air grows thicker. The world pulls at Will, like it’s trying to drag him back, like it doesn’t want him to leave.
“Hurry,” Will exhales, gasping for air. “It’s closing. I can feel it.”
The glow is dimming with every second that passes, they don’t have time to think.
Mike takes Will’s hand in his own and charges in first, breaking the first strings of slime that reattached themselves after the demogorgon went through. They stick to Will’s hair and cling to his skin. Coating them in a thick goo.
Will can’t think about the barn, the Demogorgon, the pain. He only thinks, keep moving. One step. Then another.
Mike reaches forward with his free hand and breaks the final, thin layer. Cold, fresh air hitting them instantly.
They step over the threshold onto grass, a car horn blares. They dodge to the side as a blur of a red car rushes past them straight through the gate.
The air snaps shut behind them. A sound like thunder folding in on itself, and then the hum is gone.
Will collapses.
Mike goes down with him, knees slamming into the grass.
They lay there for a long moment, the night air freezing, clean. For the first time since they fell Will lets himself breathe.
He turns his head to look at Mike next to him.
Mike is covered in a layer of slime, Will huffs a laugh at the sight. Mike’s hand is still warm in Will’s, and for a moment everything feels normal again.