Chapter Text
Will can't hold on anymore.
His lungs are on fire, and it's spreading, it's burning through him, flowing through his veins. His whole body is consumed, from his chest to his fingertips, his palms clenched into fists.
Will can't keep control anymore.
Get out. Get. Out.
Henry's voice – Vecna's voice – is roaring in his head.
He is too powerful. He is the power. The only thing Will can do is steal it, syphon it, sync into it.
The realization hits too late.
Will feels his body going numb. Giving up. Paralyzing under the overcoming power of his torturer. Will feels the grip on his mind strengthen as his body hits the ground, and struggles to keep his eyes open.
The only thing he can still do is hope Max and Holly got enough time to escape.
William.
Will's vision flickers. The outside of the SQUAWK, where he's lying on the ground, shaking – why is he shaking? He can't even feel he's shaking. Then, in a red flash before his eyes, Will sees Wheeler's house's kitchen in Vecna's mindscape, – Max no longer in sight, – and Will's head buzzes with what Vecna is feeling. He's furious. He didn't expect this to happen. He's... vengeful.
I've had enough of your resistance.
Another red flash.
Will sees the radio tower rising up. The same place he was at just half an hour ago.
He sees through the demogorgon they've just revived for their plan. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Did you truly believe you're in control?
Will's mind grows ice cold with dread. Or maybe it's Vecna, or the Mindflayer, overtaking him again, possessing his body, forcing him to be a helpless witness to the horrors he's doing through Will's body.
You belong with me.
Will tries to call to his memories, to seek the salvation in hope and confidence they give him.
His mom. He can almost feel her hand on shoulder, see her face, stricken with anxiety, tearing up, hear her voice calling for him. "Will, snap out of it, honey, come back to me, come back!"
His brother. No. Wrong choice. He doesn't even know where Jonathan is right now. Whether he's even alive.
You're weak.
Will clenches his teeth so hard it hurts. He can taste the blood, metallic and sharp, in his mouth. There's hot blood on his face, too, dripping from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks.
Will tries to think of his friends. Lucas. He shouts something; Will can't comprehend the words. Not anymore. Robin. She must be there, she must turn the power up, she must severe his connection to the hivemind, end this torture and-
You can't fight me, William. You can't save your friends.
In a crimson flare of Will's vision, the demogorgon bursts forward, tearing itself from the iron rods. Will feels the rods rip through its flesh – his flesh. He screams in agony, and not a single sound leaves his mouth.
Will cries out to his strongest memory. His purest emotion. His deepest feeling.
Mike.
In between the flicker of Will's vision there's Mike face, worried, then scared, then terrified.
You can't protect him. You'll watch him die. Then, you will join me. My vessel, like you were always meant to be. It is time to take your place.
No. No, no, no no no-
It’s better for him to die before he learns the truth. You don’t want him to find out how filthy you are, do you, William?
Will's vision is blurred with his own tears of blood, and he can't regain control – over his body, over his stolen powers, over his sight, even over his own voice.
Will sees the demogorgon lunging forward from the rooftop. He is the demogorgon, rushing to kill his own family.
Mom! Mike! Run!
He's helpless. Defenseless. He can't stop the inevitable.
Will's – demogorgon's – arm raises for the deadly strike. Will feels Vecna's dark satisfaction filling his mind. One second, and-
It all goes away, swept in a stir of the wind followed by an unsettling moment of utter silence.
A soft gleam of purplish light that transforms into a gentle yellow glow.
A sudden smell of May wildflowers caught in his nostrils.
A heat wave passing above his body.
A glimpse of metal; a swing; a strike.
And then, the sounds crush upon Will. The demogorgon's shriek. His mom's holler of an emotion he can't place. Loud "Holy fuck!" of Robin's voice. Lucas, exclaiming Mike's name.
Will tries his hardest to blink the bloody tears away. He tries to lift his arm to wipe his eyes, and, miraculously, his body responds to the impulse. He can move. He doesn't feel so feeble anymore, so dreadful, so frozen. Vecna's hold on his mind is gone.
Will tries to prop himself up, but there are someone's strong hands helping him already. Will recognizes the touch without looking.
Mike. It's Mike. He's okay. Somehow, he has survived the attack.
Gentle fingers wipe the mix of blood and tears from Will's cheeks.
"You're safe, my beloved, you're safe."
"Beloved"?
It's Mike's voice. But why would Mike call him something like that? Mike's never called him something like that. Mike doesn't even know how much Will needs him to.
This time, Will's eyes manage to regain focus. He sees Mike before him, a mere inch away, his dark curls falling on his forehead, his soft brown eyes shining, his face a little red, flustered.
"Fret not. I'll take care of you."
Mike cups Will's face in his palm, and for a fleeting moment, presses his forehead to Will's.
"You can rest now. You've been so strong."
Will leans into the feeling of Mike's arms around him. He hasn't felt strong at all, and yet, there's something calming about Mike's presence, about the way he holds Will's body, about the sheer determination of his words. Will is sound and secure, and, before he knows it, his head drops onto Mike's shoulder.
Mike's shoulder is sturdy and cold, covered in a metal plate.
Will doesn't have the time nor the strength to question why would it be. His consciousness slips from him, wrapped in the safety of Mike's embrace, as he falls into a peaceful slumber.