was this all for nothing?

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

Gabriel Burton was wrapped in a blanket, and he had a cup of hot chocolate in front of him, but he was ignoring both. His heart rattled in his chest like a caged hummingbird, his breath came out in similarly quickened gasps, and his mind echoed with the same two words over and over again. His stomach curdled with nausea, and he could barely hear the hushed conversations from the other three people over the roaring in his ears. His head was between his knees, tears prickled at his eyes, and one hand traced the lines of the welts embedded into his legs. Time had reduced them to mere lines upon his skin, but he was so deep in memories that it was like he could feel the vines that had wrapped around them.

He's back. Those were the two words that Will had said an hour ago, or maybe it was three or twenty-four, or mere seconds. Time didn't seem to matter anymore, because the Mind Flayer, the shadow monster, eater of worlds, was back.

Back. Like El hadn't closed the gate. Like they hadn't purged it out of Will. Like the piece hadn't died in Alina. Like everything they'd done last year was for nothing. He was seriously going to throw up.

Will was beside him, leaning his head on his shoulder. It was a nice feeling that Gabe couldn't appreciate, because he couldn't appreciate anything right now except for the fact that he was still alive.

An hour ago, or whenever it was, Mike and Lucas had crashed through the trees, their hoods of their raincoats pulled up, attempting to splutter apologies to Will, but their voices had gone quiet when they surveyed the destruction, the boy crouching in the mud (that was Gabe—he was searching through the rubble of Castle Byers, trying to salvage as much as he could) and the other one, who'd suddenly stiffed. A hand going to the back of his neck. A gasp shooting loose of his lips.

Lucas had asked what was wrong. Or maybe it was Mike. And then Will had straightened, and he'd turned around, and those same two words that kept going through Gabe's mind again and again had come out of his mouth.

Nobody had to ask who 'he' was, even though they all had a different name for the creature that had haunted them last year. Alina refused to humanize anything from the Upside Down. She called Dart 'it', as she did to all the other Demodogs and the Mind Flayer. 'It', because they were not even creatures. They were monsters. On the other hand, Will called the Mind Flayer 'he', because it was like he could pretend that it was a person who'd done this to him, not an otherworldly creature. And perhaps because his connection with it had bled the two of them together.

Gabe called the Mind Flayer it, too, because he couldn't think of the monster as anything else. He trembled a little more under his blankets, even though he'd changed out of his sopping wet clothes when he'd gotten back to the Byers household, and the sweat on his brow told him he was sweltering.

Finally, unconsciously, Gabe's ears tuned into the conversation. Lucas was talking. "Should we call the girls?" He was obviously talking about Alina, Max, and El.

Mike looked out the window, where the storm continued to rattle. "They're not going to want to come out in the storm."

"We'll have to go back out there to go home," Will pointed out. His voice was raw. Gabe bit his lip, and then realized he'd been doing that since he'd gotten here, because the flesh was already raggedy, and filled his mouth with blood.

"We'll call a meeting in the morning," Lucas decided. "All of us. Dustin, too, if he responds this time." He took a deep breath. He looked as scared as Gabe felt. "And then we'll figure out what to do from there."

"Why do we have to fix everything?" Gabe blurted out, sounding a lot like his old self, who was so scared, who didn't want to shoulder the burden of saving the world. But he was just a kid. They may have been classified as teenagers, but they were still kids. Kids who had been heaped with trauma they didn't deserve, responsibilities they never wanted. "Why can't someone else do it, for once? Why can't adults?"

"Adults didn't do shit last year, Gabe," said Mike softly. He seemed to know that arguing wasn't the best way to go in this scenario. "Except for Joyce and Hopper. It was all us. We were the ones who stopped the Mind Flayer."

"Except, apparently, we didn't!" Gabe stood up. "Because that son of a bitch is back. What if it takes you next, Mike? Or you, Lucas? And..." he let out a dark chuckle at the thought that just came to his mind, a chuckle with no amusement at all, "it's gonna be super pissed. Especially at El, for closing the gate, but also at you and Alina, Will. I don't think it really appreciated losing."

"I know," said Will quietly, removing his head from Gabe's shoulder. His eyes were full of tears. "I know, Gabe. But don't you understand? We have to do something. Not just because we have to, but because we can. Because we're not going to sit back and let anyone else go through what me and Alina have. We're not going to let anyone else die like Bob did. We're going to stop it, and for real this time."

And just like last year, Gabe knew that they were right. They had to fight back, yet again, because they didn't want to drag anyone else into this. They didn't want other kids to grow up with the same trauma, to risk death. No, it had to be them. As much as he hated to admit it.

Sometimes, in dark times when he was thinking about everything that had happened to him, he wished he'd never tried to be friends with the party. But then he would look at Will, and he'd remember all of the good that had come out of the bad, and he'd take a deep breath and tell himself that he was grateful, that he was happy, that he was loved. It was a hard thing, but so were most of the complexities of his life he had to navigate through.

"For real this time," he echoed. "But... how?"

Nobody knew. How did you defeat something so seemingly unbeatable? One that they had barely managed to before? They didn't even have weapons—unless you counted El and Alina. They didn't know where Dustin was, or Joyce (who was, even though she was supposed to be home by now, decidedly not). All they had was eight slightly traumatized teenagers (four here, three with each other, and one MIA), possibly Nancy and Jonathan, and a cat. They couldn't forget the cat. He'd scratched Billy last year.

What on earth were they going to do?

At Max's house, things were supposed to be happier. Max seemed placated, at least, by what had happened at Heather's house. After all, the girl was alive and well, wasn't she? And she seemed perfectly happy. She wasn't being tortured or dragged deep into icy baths, so there was nothing to worry about, was there? Everything was fine.

But Alina didn't think so. Nothing seemed fine about the dinner—the smiles were too perfect, the food too aligned, the laughter too loud. And when she'd gotten on her bike to leave, turning once back towards the house, she'd thought she'd seen Billy's eyes peering right at her, pupils dilated. Of course, they vanished in an instant, but she'd seen it. He was waiting for them to be gone. He was waiting until there were no witnesses.

They were sleeping over at Max's tonight, and, given that there wasn't enough space for three people to sleep in one bed, Alina had been given an inflatable mattress. Max had apologized profusely, but Alina didn't really mind. She just borrowed as many blankets as would be reasonable to not overheat her (which was another thing that made her uncomfortable: heat. After constantly being in a state of burning last year, this made sense) and tucked them all in. To make her feel safe. To make her feel secure. To make her feel at least a little sane.

Right now, she sat cross-legged on Max's bed, pajamas on, teeth brushed, hair loose and slightly tangled. Her face was neutral, but of course, she was still thinking about earlier—and the cookie in her pocket. She'd wrapped it up in saran wrap and then formed a plan, to be tested after Max and El fell asleep.

"Which one?" Max asked, holding up two comic books. Green Lantern and Wonder Woman. According to Max, they were going to drown their sorrows away in fictional superhero adventures, which Alina normally would've found wonderful, but tonight her head was fuzzy. Tonight she was scared.

El climbed into the bed beside Max. "I don't know," she said softly. She didn't look enthusiastic. She looked like how Alina felt.

Max let out a sigh, setting down the comics. "Hey, there's nothing to worry about anymore, okay? Both of you."

"It doesn't make sense," El said.

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Heather. The blood. The ice."

"Heather had a fever," said Max, "so she took a cold bath, but she's better now. That has to be it. I don't know where that blood came from, but... we saw her. The three of us saw her. She's totally fine."

"I didn't think they were friends," Alina blurted out. "Heather and Billy, I mean. Since when is he hanging out with his co-worker?"

"Believe me, it came as a surprise to me, too," said Max. "Billy having friends. But I guess he'd make some eventually." She leaned forward, resting a hand on Alina's shoulder. "Seriously, Al, don't worry about it. Everything's okay."

"What about Billy?" El decided to inject her concerns back into the conversation. She and Alina were sort of treating Max like a Common Sense Machine, to explain away all the things they'd seen, what they'd thought. The ice, the blood, the screams... the feeling that there just was something not quite right.

"What about him?"

"He seemed wrong," El explained. Alina nodded. It had been almost alarming to see him put on that cheery, kind older brother with a voice of butter façade. Because although she didn't know him well, Alina knew Billy Hargrove, and she knew he wasn't that.

Max chuckled. "Wrong is kind of like his default. But it's nice to know he's not a murderer, because that would've totally sucked."

El seemed placated now, but Alina still had her suspicions. Which is why she just had to bide her time. And then she'd enact her plan.

"Who is that?" El's eyes had flickered to the two comic books resting on the bed, and she pointed to Wonder Woman. It was obvious she hadn't been caught up on all of her pop-culture references yet. It was kind of sad. But now, at least, they had plenty of time to teach her.

"See, this is why you can't just hang out with Mike all the time," said Max. She picked up the comic. "This is Wonder Woman, aka Princess Diana. She's from Paradise Island, which is, like, this hidden island where there are only women Amazon warriors."

Max's voice was lulling as she explained Wonder Woman to El, and it was in good time that they got into the actual comic. With a head on Max's shoulder, Alina tried to listen, but soon the words faded in place for Heather's screams as she reached out for her hand. Help me, she'd pleaded. She'd needed help. Max could explain it away all she wanted, but Alina Fairgrieves-Byers was just stubborn enough to know when something was suspicious. And this was definitely one of those situations.

So, when Max and El drifted off an hour later, their soft breaths filling the room, Alina finally slipped out of her inflatable mattress, and, quiet as a mouse, made her way to the bathroom. 

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧