Chapter Text
March, 1986
Mike awakes in a cold sweat, gasping desperately for air. He looked at the clock: 3:45 am. His mind is hazy, like he had a dream he can’t quite remember, then he felt an overwhelming urge to wake up - like he was in danger. He looks frantically around his room. Nothing seems to be wrong. He starts to calm down and gets ahold of his breathing slowly.
He brings his hands up to his face and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. As he wakes up a bit more he realizes how badly his arm hurts. He thinks its just due to bad sleeping posture, but it only hurts in one spot. Like theres a wound there or something.
He suddenly feels an uncontrollable sense of foreboding. He hesitantly drifts his eyes down to the throbbing spot on his arm, and there he sees what looks like two holes.
Mike gasps aloud. Why are there two HOLES in his arm?! He flicks on the lamp and looks closer. He saw right, there resides two deep holes planted on his arm, a little ways apart from each other.
He scours his brain for what the hell this could be, and his mind comes across an insane thought: vampire. He shakes his head frantically, because that would be insane. Vampires? Please, he’s not 8.
Despite that, his mind still thinks about all the stuff he’s gone through that normal day people would think the same way about. And Dustin and his team told the rest of them about the bats…they have fangs. But it doesn’t make any sense…Mike never stepped foot in the upside down.
Just then, he heard a small sound coming from above him. He tenses. That sound…he very slowly looks up to his ceiling, where he sees a small curled up figure hanging down. As soon as he realizes what it might be, the bat uncurls itself and screeches at him.
“HOLY SHIT!” Mike shouts and stumbles out of bed, backing up quickly until his body slams against his door. The bat unlatches from the ceiling and flies out Mike’s window that he realized wasn’t open before.
Mike holds his chest and feels his heart pounding in his ears. That was definitely a bat, and Mike’s bite definitely came from it. A loud knock comes from his door and he jumps back like a skittish cat.
Nancy swings the door open, surveying Mike’s room. When she concludes there’s no danger, she faces Mike with an annoyed glare.
”Jesus, Mike! It’s 3 in the morning, what is the problem?”
“Nancy! I don’t know but there was-“ Mike begins to explain, but a voice pops into his head, like he just remembered someone’s words.
You think they would accept this?
Mike stands stunned for a minute, not knowing who said that, and why he’s remembering it now, but it scared him enough for him to shut his mouth and reconsider his words.
”It…it was nothing” Mike finds himself saying instead.
Nancy looks at him with a confused stare, before sighing and throwing up her hands.
”Stop making so much noise then.” She turns around and shuts his door quietly. Mike backs up and stumbles onto his bed. He feels his mind racing and his chest pounding. He’s so confused and…scared.
He seems to find the means to fall back asleep, but it’s tested rest, not fulfilling or helpful at all.
Mike wakes for the second time today, this time with a more panicked mindset. As soon as he wakes fully he throws his hand up, looking at his arm and hoping that it was all a dream.
Despite his wishes, the mark is still there. It’s more faded than last night but definitely there. His grip on his arms grows tighter, like if he looks at it hard enough it’ll go away.
He allows himself to calm down, his brain smothering the scared fast thoughts racing in his mind with more logical thinking. Even if he did get bit, it could be a regular bat. And even if it was a bat from the Upside Down, who says he’s gonna turn into a vampire?
Those thoughts help calm him down, because he finds himself laughing softly. Yeah, what a silly thought. Vampires - yeah, what nonsense.
He slowly rises out of bed, and shuffles to the bathroom. Getting out his toothbrush, he squeezes toothpaste onto it and opens his mouth to brush his teeth. When he looks up into the mirror, his toothbrush falls out of his hand and the toothpaste splatters onto the linoleum.
Staring back at him are two sharp, long fangs where his normal shaped and sized canine teeth used to reside.
Mike backs into the wall, like he’s trying to run away from his reflection. He gathers the courage to touch his teeth, and he winces when the fang pricks his finger. He looks at his finger, and blood has started to rise from the spot he pricked it.
Looking at the small droplet of blood coming from his finger, he seems drawn to it. Not to his blood specifically, but just blood in general.
He feels his panic begin to rise, and he starts to shake. He grabs his hair and sinks to the floor. Nonononono this CANT be happening. It just can’t! IT
“CAN’T!” Mike screams, jolting forward from lying down. He’s breathing heavily and sweating. He looks around frantically and realizes he’s in bed. He then realizes he was just having a nightmare about that day…again. He just wishes it was a normal nightmare, instead of a memory of the past.
November, 1986
Mike groans, falling back onto his mattress. He rises his hand to look at the mark given to him by that damn bat 8 months ago. It’s practically not even there anymore, just looking like faded small dots on his arm.
Mike runs both hands down his face, rolling his eyes back. He hates when he gets nightmares of that night, like it’s taunting him, reminding him of what a freak he’s become.
He reluctantly rises once more and throws his covers off his body, shuffling over to his closet. In there, behind a bunch of junk lies a jar of blood. Deer blood. When Mike realized all those months ago he would need some type of way to satiate his thirst, he stole Nancy’s gun she keeps under her bed and when out to kill a deer, draining his blood and putting it in jars. The last kill was about 2 weeks ago, but the blood is already down to a half a jar.
He sighs as he unscrews the lid and only takes a few sips. This has to last a while, because he absolutely hates killing deer. It’s not the shooting part, that’s usually easy. It’s the draining that gets him. He has to slit its throat to be able to get the blood out.
He grimaces at that unpleasant memory and shuts his closet door. He walks to his door and presses his ear against it, listening for anyone downstairs.
Ever since he turned he realized it’s best to just avoid everyone instead of trying to hide his fangs all the time while speaking. Especially Will.
The Byers started staying with The Wheelers after the battle against Vecna because of their lack of a home in Hawkins. Mrs. Byers and El were able to stay with Hopper at his cabin, but Will and Jonathan didn’t have any room there, so Mike’s mother kindly offered to let them stay.
Mike didn’t hate that arrangement, until his little incident of turning into a fucking vampire put Will into deep danger.
There wasn’t much trouble with Mike keeping himself off of humans, but when it came to Will…it was insanely hard for some reason. There was one time before he started killing deer where he almost bit Will. Will had noticed Mike was acting differently and asked him about it, and tried getting close to comfort Mike, and Mike caught Wills scent, and couldn’t look away from his neck. That time was a very close call, and Mike has kept his distance from Will ever since.
He hated avoiding Will, but Mike knew it was for his own good. Will’s safety was a top priority for Mike…as well as the rest of his family and friends.
Mike didn’t hear anyone so he opened his door and slowly crept through the hallway and down the stairs. When he got to the kitchen, he saw the very person he didn’t want to see.
”Oh! Morning Mike..” Will said, looking up from his breakfast. His eyes were soft, looking at Mike with a smile but awkward smile on his face.
Mike internally panicked. He noticed the way his hair was slightly messy, the way his eyes were low and soft, like he had just woken up a while ago. The way his shirt was a little wrinkled from sleep, and mostly how soft and alluring his neck looked. Damnit, those sips were clearly not enough.
Mike realized he had been staring at Will and practically checking him out. He felt his face grow hot and looked down, murmuring out a good morning.
He speed walked to the kitchen, grabbing a banana and raced back up the stairs. He can’t hold a conversation with Will right now.
Once he got to his room he leaned against the door, trying to calm down. Will looked…really good just now.
He hated thinking this way about Will, but he can’t control it. It’s like his mind doesn’t bend to Mike’s will anymore. He’s always had these thoughts about Will before, but he’s always been able to smother them. But ever since this…thing happened to him, he seems to never get his mind to shut up whenever he faces Will. Even thinking about him gets his face red and his chest pounding.
He can’t seem to care less about preserving the stupid blood after that interaction, he just wants to stop this hunger.
He throws the banana to his desk, making a mental note to sneak it back to the kitchen later and throws open his closet. He grabs the jar and chugs the rest of the blood. It satiates him for the moment, but it comes back as soon as he thinks of Will for a moment.
What is going on? He doesn’t understand. Drinking blood always helps his cravings, even when they were Will-related. This is a huge problem, and he needs to find the answer to it. Fast.