Chapter Text
When Bill saw the door open and Beverly’s father on the ground, blood flowing into the carpet, all he could think was no no not again not Beverly. But the scene in the bathroom left no doubt who had done this. It.
Bill forced himself to look and knew he had to do something. If no one else would, if everyone else just looked away, even the rest of the losers he wouldn’t. There would be no more Georgie’s or Patrick’s or Betty’s. Bill would stop It. Bill would stop it before It hurt Beverly. Even if he had to do it alone.
There was no time to waste, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no telling when It had taken Beverly. If she was still- she had to be. She was fine and this would be over soon. This nightmare that had started with a boat and a drain and a crazy murderous clown.
Bill grabbed a crow bar from Mr. Marsh’s tool box and raced to the house on Neibolt St. It looked unchanged from the last time he had been here. All evidence of their battle with It wiped away as if it had never happened. Bill smashed the crowbar against the rotting chair. Hot angry tears falling down his cheeks.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
He tied the rope that looked like it might hold even if it had lain there for countless years and climbed down into the well that might as well have been a mouth, a maw open wide. Dark and jagged, with the stench of gray water wafting up as Bill went down down down.
He hadn’t even thought to bring a flashlight.
Stupid. How could he have been so stupid. Down here in the dark, the severity of his situation crawled up his spine. No plan. No back up no flashlight.
“S-stupid,” he whispered to himself, forcing himself forward. He had to save Beverley. “S-stupid. S-stupid.”
“Sssstupid St-stuttering B-b-billy boy.”
It.
“I-I’m not s-scared of you,” he called out into the dark, searching for the telltale glowing eyes. But down here, with the echo and shadows, It could be anywhere.
His hands tightened on the crowbar.
The clown laughed and Bill followed. He was sure this was a trap. It was proaobaly leading him right to Its lair. Think of Beverly. Think of Beverly. Its lair was where Beverly would be and the sooner he got there the sooner this would be over and then Mike and Ben and Stan would all be friends again. Even Richie and Eddie would forgive him. They could move on and Bill’s parents would stop sitting in their room, staring at walls, eyes glazed over with tears.
Bill followed the ethos of Its laugh. The mouse chasing the cat. The mouse being led on and felt only a hot burning in his throat, hands gripping the metal so hard they hurt.
It went on for ages, the tunnels seemingly endless. The cold seeped into Bill skin, socks soaked in gray water and he tried to think of what Eddie had said about staph infections.
He finally spotted the clown, eyes a bright jaundiced yellow as grinned at Bill before disappearing into a door.
It wasn’t really open, just ajar as if It was inviting Bill in. Waiting for him. Watching him. It still thought It would win.
Bill thought of all the missing kids, their posters stapled over each others. He thought of the poster Richie had found of himself in the house on Neibolt St. But most of all he thought of Georgie and the day he had never come back. How he had wanted to go out looking for him, but his parents had forced him to stay in bed, certain he was just lost in the neighborhood ignoring Bill when he told them Georgie would never get lost.
Fuck this clown.
Bill went in.
Crow bar raised.
Helpless to get Beverly down. The clown nowhere insight. The bodies floating around a pile of lost things. A testament to all the lives that had been lost to this fucking thing. This thing that had ruined his life.
Bill let out a yell, grabbing whatever he could find and pulling Beverly Marsh, who had kissed him once and helped them steal the supplies for Ben even though they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words in years, down. Carefully and trying as best he could with one hand holding a crowbar, to bring here down.
“B-beverly,” he said shaking her gently, trying to wake her up. “Bev.”
“Oh let the girl sleep Billy boy.”
And then Bill was thrown back, his back falling onto the hard concrete. The impact knocked the wind out of him, crowbar sailing past.
He was barely getting up when It had him by his shirt holding him up, “Where’s the rest of your little gang? I’m feeling like having a whole meal.”
Bill spit at It, kicking and slipping out of its hold. His legs hit the ground hard, but this time he was ready for the pain shooting up his bones, and ran for the crowbar, his hand closing around the cool metal as It grabbed his leg.
He swung, hearing the crunch and knowing he had made contact before swinging again. It let go of him, backing away, one watery eye fixed on him. Its skull was cracked like a porcelain doll’s, but there was no blood. Not really.
Bill carefully made his way to Beverly, never taking his eyes off It. “Beverly, please wake up.”
“Oh she can’t here you Billy boy. You see, she’s a long way from here,” It giggled rocking back and forth as saliva dripped from its teeth. Bill thought of the pictures of sharks in his textbook; mainly their many rows of teeth.
“What did you do to her?” He felt himself shaking. She had to be okay. She was going to be okay.
It only giggled, the raspy sound echoing all around the chamber.
Bill couldn’t help it he looked down at Beverly, stroking her cheek, and thinking of her smile when they had all helped her clean her bathroom. “Bev,” he muttered again, “we can’t be the losers without you.” It was all seven of them or nothing.
Something cold and sticky dripped onto his back.
It.
“Beverly,” he cried voice cracking as It embraced him.
Her eyes shot open, took into the scene and went for the crowbar. Anyone else would have frozen or freaked out but Beverly went in blazing.
“Get wrecked you fucking clown! We’re not scared of you!”
Bill felt It shake with anger. A creature of fear who can’t scare.
“Oh but your friends are and I’ll take them! I’ll take them all,” It wheezed and croaked, bones shifting against Bill who could feel only disgust. “I’ll dine on their flesh and then and only then will I eat you!”
“W-We’ll kill you,” Bill stammered out, tired and aching and so cold he couldn’t remember what it was like to be warm anymore.
It just laughed, “you said it yourself little boy, you’re stronger together but two,” he whispered conspiratorially into his ear, “two is fine dinner.”
“Or dear sweet Beaverly can go back up and grow old and forget and you can be my midnight snack right before a good long rest.”
“Bill,” Bev called out, “Let’s just kill this creep.”
“What do you say stuttering Bill? Just you and me? Or the girl too.” It’s rotting breath dusted Bill’s ear.
He nodded, then screamed,“Beverly run!”
And It dragged him down down down the rabbit hole-
we go Mr. It.