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Billy’s staring at this kid, curls and a cap with a tux and a look on his face that says he doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no.’ And then he’s saying Steve Harrington is alive, somehow, even though Billy and about half the people from Hawkins just came to give their goodbyes to the fallen king. Billy wants to call bullshit on Curly’s claims but there’s a searing heat in his stomach that won’t let him and it vaguely feels like hope. So Billy listens and learns of monsters with flower faces and teeth and the knight in broken armor Steve became the same night when Billy hated himself the most because he was the one who broke said knight’s armor. It makes sense and loses sanity at the same time, but Billy’s no stranger to that feeling. So he agrees with Curly and asks what the hell the kid plans to do about it.
Billy quickly regrets asking.
This world hurts his lungs. They tear and tear every time he breathes but he can’t not breathe because he needs to survive but it’s like he’s smoking constantly because this world doesn’t know the meaning of the words ‘air pollution.’ It’s blue and cold and wet and dark and monsters are everywhere. This is almost as bad as his dreams. ‘Almost’ because his dreams never gave him sleep but he can sleep here after he passes out from exhaustion so he doesn’t have to worry about nightmares. But he can’t sleep because then he’ll be eaten or worse and he doesn’t want to end up worse because then he’ll go back to the real world, only to strike out with fear and loathing and harm the people he promised to protect.
Steve’s entire existence in this place is a nightmare and he’s growing weaker by the minute. At least he has his bat by his side, even as his swings grow weaker with each passing moment and his chest grows tight with hopelessness. He wants to survive, it’s instinctual, but his body can’t comply and he’s not sure if he wants to, either. Maybe this is for the best so nobody has to bother with the human disaster that is Steve Harrington. It’s this thought that he passes out with as growls sound out in the distance.
This kid is an idiot. It is a fact. It is also a fact that Billy can’t seem to turn away and let Steve go. So he’s stuck listening to Curly’s rants about his friends and his theories about how to save Steve against monsters and madness and other worlds and the lab in the woods that ties everything together. It’s crazy, but it doesn’t stop Billy from helping Curly get to the lab and checking it out for clues, for a way to get Steve back, because the younger boy was convinced Steve had only been taken to another fucking dimension. Billy hates how he’s doing this because he wants to be with Steve again. After that brief nap he’d allowed himself, when Steve was too tired except to speak another language, Billy had more than dreamed about the brunette. He’d wanted so much more. And this brat was giving him a second chance, giving Steve a second chance if he was right.
Something had died inside when he’d heard of Steve’s death, similar to what had lived in his chest when his mother had still been around. It was a dirty seed of hope and love and had no ground or nutrients to grow on but still worked miracles and fed on the water of the ocean and his tears. It sprouted occasionally before Billy would nip it but then it’d come back again and it was an endless cycle that he wished he’d ended long ago by tearing out that seed and burning it. But he couldn’t. And it was back and stronger than ever, feasting on Steve and alive and love and hope.
“Didn’t you say the police were in on this? Why don’t you ask them?” Billy questioned. Curly rolled his eyes.
“First, it’s just the Chief that knows. And second, he wouldn’t believe me. None of them would.” Curly narrowed his eyes, “So why do you?”
“You tell me. You were the one that came looking for my help.”
“That’s because I- well, I had a feeling.” Curly crossed his arms, “A feeling that you’d help me look for Steve, to confirm the truth. Am I wrong?”
“...No.” Billy admitted, “Mostly ‘cause I owe Harrington and I don’t like having a debt held over my head.”
“What do you owe him?” Curly tried to push open the glass doors to the lab but they didn’t budge. Billy briefly considered using this as a chance to turn back, to let go, to ignore the dark stains inside and call Curly crazy and reign himself in, but he didn’t.
“Here, let me.” Billy pushed the kid back and took off his own tuxedo jacket. He wrapped it around his fist before punching the glass as Curly made a warning noise. Immediately it stung his fist and didn’t budge.
“Bulletproof.”
“Shoulda said something.” Billy hissed.
“You didn’t let me.” said Curly. He pointed to the Camaro, “Why don’t we just use your car to smash through?”
“And ruin the paint job?” And the rest of the car? No thank you!
“Hey, it’s either we find another way in, which I know we won’t find, or you smash us in. And I know this place has to have some way back to Steve. El sealed the Gate here and if it’s opened up again-” Curly shivered. Billy weighed his options. Go along with this kid and smash his car into a building to look for the fallen king or turn his tail on all this and run.
He was beginning to realize his heart was being strangled by that seed in his chest as it fed on his too-big love for the prettiest boy in Hawkins.
“Get in, damn it.” This mess was just getting bigger and bigger and the blond was being bossed around by a teenager because he wanted to see the brunette again and he was sure that this was a sure-fire way to get killed but he didn’t know if he could back out now.
Now your mess is mine too, Billy thought. If they found Steve, Billy was going to rip him a new one while hugging the brunette to death. It would be hard to achieve but he’d do it because he was Billy Hargrove and Billy Hargrove was not someone that liked being told he couldn’t do something.
Steve was very weak from the few days he had been stuck here. He hadn’t eaten or drank much since his arrival because everything was rotten or dirty but he couldn’t go on like this so he ate and drank anyway because he chose survival over condition. Steve ended up becoming sick regardless. He was in worse condition than Will had been and the kid had survived a week out here but at least Will wasn’t tormented by no sleep and monsters out of the corners of his eyes constantly. Steve was too weak to even lift his bat when a Demogorgon found him. His stomach was still turning somersaults from his last attempted meal and so the best he could do was listen and watch its approach, somewhat hoping it would go ahead and end his suffering. It came closer and closer judging by its growling until it was almost on top of him but then it didn’t move. It didn’t do anything. Until Steve felt teeth and flaps of skin clamp down on his right arm.
It gave a sharp jerk of the head and there was a chilling snap before Steve screamed as fire filled his arm. White-hot, blistering pain lit up his brain, brighter than even the time he had fallen out of a tree and broke his ankle because he was an idiot and took Tommy’s bet. Maybe it was because the demogorgon kept wretching his arm around like it was trying to pull the limb out of the socket. When it let go, Steve’s eyes were tightly closed and tears spilled from the sockets. He didn’t need to look to know his arm was now a patchwork of toothy wounds and skin and the unnatural angle would just irritate his stomach further. His eyes fly open, however, when the monster begins to do the same to his other arm. Trying to wretch it away, back to his body, makes the demon growl and the pain all the more worse when it comes. At least the monster gives some mercy by stomping on his legs to break them. Now Steve has no chance of escaping, as if he thought he could in the first place.
Much to his surprise, the monster picked him up and began carrying him bridal-style, leaving Steve with more than an uneasy feeling. Why hadn’t it killed him where he laid? Why had it not just toyed with him before swallowing his broken bones? A darkness began stirring inside, a feeling that said nothing good was going to come of these events but Steve couldn’t run with the condition he was in so what would be his fate? Swallowing, Steve settled in for the ride and just hoped that it wouldn’t be a terribly bad one, his mind running on thoughts of diediedie and nohomenohomenohome.
They had, in fact, found a new entrance to the Upside Down and Curly had wasted no time in grabbing supplies and insisting they go in to look for Steve because the longer it took meant that it was less likely they would find Steve alive. Billy agreed and grabbed himself a fire axe and they entered with goggles and handkerchiefs that still seemed to do nothing against the ashy air but kept them alive and not coughing so Billy counted it as a win. But still, this was not a place Billy wanted to be and it sent the hairs on his neck standing on end.
“That’s his bat!” Curly cries, running over to something as equally dark as the ground in front of a tent of wood and cloth that had seen better days. Upon closer inspection, Billy identified it as the nailed bat in Steve’s trunk and that meant they were on the right track but what was it doing here? Where was Steve? Billy looked into Curly’s worried eyes and raised his stature.
“We’ll find him. He’s gotta be around here somewhere, yeah? Can’t’ve gone far.” Billy takes the kid’s arm to keep him close and raises his axe. He hopes he’s right and feels the image of St. Christopher burning against his skin. Curly’s next suggestion of checking the Library makes the burn stronger. It’s always hurt when Billy’s about to leap into deep shit and he knows this is no different but just hopes Steve will be alive. They have a lot to talk about after this.
Steve had avoided the Library like the plague after what had happened to Will. He may not have seen the boy’s condition but he’d rather avoid all possible showdowns with the Upside Down, thanks. It always gave him feelings of tooquiettooquiet and darkdarkdark when he happened to pass by. So his panic skyrocketed when he realized where he was being taken, as food for this thing’s army, but that still didn’t explain why he hadn’t been killed on the spot. And remembering what had happened to Will after, Steve was beginning to understand why he was being allowed to live. And he didn’t like it.
His eyes raked over the vine-infested building as the Demogorgon carried him inside. It looked the same as the real version, except filled with vines and the ash-like air quality of the Upside Down. And there was also a hole in the ceiling with a distinct shadow creature hovering over it. Steve didn’t need to be told twice about what that thing was. The dark shape then leaned down towards him and Steve flailed but his broken body gave too much pain to allow that to go on for long. He quickly gave up and whimpered, drawing more into the clammy arms of one monster to get away from the bigger one. Except then the demogorgon dropped him and Steve yelped, vision whiting out for a moment from all the pain before finding himself being dragged toward a wall of vines by one of said vines. He was terrified of what would be done. Was he food? Would he become a puppet? What did the Mind Flayer want with him? Would he ever see his kids and Billy and Nancy and Jonathan and Hopper and Joyce again?
One vine crawled up and tried to get in his mouth. Steve bit on it and got a response from many different directions though the most vocal was from the demogorgon. Clearly the hive-connected monster didn’t like that. Steve licked his lips. The black blood tasted like bitter candy, like eating dark chocolate with no sugar. It tasted like the halloween party and punch months ago when the rug was jerked out from under him. It tasted like Billy probably would have if Steve had ever gotten the chance to ravage his lips. It tasted like death and destruction and hopelessness. Then claws were on his face, the sharp points prying his mouth open and preventing a second bite as the vine slid it again. It had no taste of death unlike the blood, just slimy and definitely not something he wanted going down his throat. Steve coughed and struggled as best he could but his lips were useless and vines were wrapping around them too and keeping him poised like a dead starfish.
Stop fearing. You will be made anew, human, says a voice in his head and Steve tries to scream through his choking as a vine slides to cover his eyes. He may have wanted to stop fighting but never this.
GetoutgetoutgetoutSTOPSTOPSTOP- Every second that slips by allows him to feel his control being wretched away and mind growing foggier and foggier. The grips become more and more loose because there’s no need to hold him down if he’s not fighting back and Steve wants to and tries but he can’t. He pleads, Don’t go after my kids, only to get a sharp feeling blasted through him like one of his limbs had been pulled back and it tears another scream out of his throat, or as much of one as he can manage at the moment.
You will give me no orders, whelp. That was when Steve felt himself fade into darkness, even as he tried to hold on, but no amount of gripping onto a rock prevents you from going over a waterfall if the water’s strong enough.
“Shitshitshit-” Curly was hissing as they hid behind a tree with eyes on the Library, a dark shadow leaning inside. Billy could only guess that was the big bad he’d mentioned, the so-called ‘Mind Flayer,’ which now probably had its attention on one Steve Harrington. Curly added, “What do we do?!” and stared fearfully at the shadow.
“Didn’t you say one of your friends fought this thing before?” Billy asked.
“Yeah, but not here, in its own territory!” Curly waved an arm for emphasis and Billy had to make him stop before something noticed the movement.
“Well, what’re these things weak against?”
“Fire, but we don’t have anything to light on fire!”
“Actually…” Billy brought out his lighter, “That hairspray you’ve got, it still has something left?”
Steve wakes with a gasp and a gag and then heaves out everything in his stomach and someone pushes him to his side so he can breathe better. As soon as he’s done heaving he looks and there are Dustin and Billy but no monsters, no Mind Flayer, just a lot of fucking fire. Dustin’s teary and hugs him and Steve lets him because he doesn’t think he can do much else anyway. He wants to cry. There’s Dustin and Billy and he’s safe and away from the Mind Flayer and the Upside Down. He’s in control of himself again. So he hugs Dustin close and knows the boy is crying as hard as he is and that makes him cry even harder.
“C’mon,” Billy got in and tugged them to their feet, “We need to keep moving.”
“I-” As soon as Steve puts pressure on his legs he cries out. He collapses in a heap and Dustin’s right there, panicked eyes on him, and Steve just wants to cry again because he was so sure no one would be able to come for him and now his little brother is here and in danger and there’s nothing he can do.
“What’s wrong?”
“Broken-” Steve hacked harshly for a moment, “Broken limbs. Can’t move.” In seconds he’s in Billy’s arms. He yelps but then Billy is carrying him and they’re running with Dustin right behind because no time can be wasted and Steve can hear howls in the distance that make shivers shoot down his spine. He knows those howls. Demodogs will be on them in minutes, if not sooner. They run and run and the howls get closer and Steve squeezes his eyes shut because he knows that they can’t get out and they won’t survive-
But then he’s being thrown forward, through goop and stickiness and it all tried to hold him back but he keeps being tugged and pushed and on the other side he gasps and it’s a relief because he can finally breathe again. He’s back in the real world and Dustin’s dragging him away from the hole and as he looks back he sees Billy take out his lighter and a can of Farrah Fawcett and he lights up the hole like a match and screams echo inside until the hole is gone. They stay there for a few moments, panting and recovering, but then Billy’s grabbing him again and carrying him through the stupid stupid lab and into the darkness outside. It may be dark but it’s a different dark than the Upside Down and it lowers a blanket around Steve, taking away some of his anxieties. He smiles, laughs, and full on cackles until he can’t anymore because of his ragged lungs. They’re okay now. He’s homehomehome and doesn’t have to worry about anything except nightmares and dreams that can’t hurt him. He lets his head rest against Billy’s chest, listening to the heartbeat, and it pulls on him. Only for it to fade out and Steve opens his eyes but he can’t see anything.
You think this is over? Steve freezes.