Chapter Eighty-Five: Live

(The Piggyback, Pt. 5)

***

Alistair gasped awake.

His eyes flew open as he lunged forward, coughing as he tried to inhale air not tainted by the Upside Down's rot into his lungs, but it was failing because his lungs... they weren't working. 

And his heart had stopped beating for the first time in eight months.

Because he... he'd died again. He'd...

Alistair wanted to throw up, but he couldn't, every function of his living body shut off. Instead, he got to his feet, seeing the black void of the limbo he'd been in before. 

At least it was quicker, Alistair thought morbidly as his hand ghosted over his neck—his neck, that had been snapped, so violent and quick he'd barely felt it. It might have been a mercy kill, but Alistair knew Vecna didn't deal in mercy.

No, snapping his neck was a matter of convenience for Vecna. That he couldn't bother going with the full curse because Alistair wouldn't be his fourth kill—instead, Max would be.

Alistair froze, his un-beating heart stilling again. Max. She was in danger, Vecna was after her and he'd go through with the curse, make sure she would be his final kill. And with what he'd seen in the flashes Vecna had shown him, he was close to finding her, and she was not the only one in danger. The image of Rowan, Steve, Nancy, Valerie and Robin choked by vines flashed in his mind, warring with the gun pointed at Cami, the terrified look on her face. And with how he couldn't feel the bond, Hugin hadn't died with him—that what he'd done was keeping him alive and able to protect Cami. But Alistair knew time was running out,  and what if Hugin died when the gun went off, what if his best friend died?

He needed to get back. He had to get back, to resurrect like he had eight months ago.

Should you go back? a voice whispered. You're dead again—you cheated death once, and now you've died twice. Should you cheat death a second time only to die again and again?

Alistair paused. The voice, it was right—he'd died and come back for eight months, and yet he was back here, heart frozen in his chest and not breathing anymore, dead again. It would be a cruel joke if he kept coming back here after he died again and again, maybe he should stay...

No. They need me. I need to get back, Alistair told himself, trying to shake off the thoughts.

Do they? Do they really need a boy who keeps cheating death, keeps being an unnatural monster? Do they need you?

"Shut up," Alistair muttered—even in death, he couldn't stop hearing the same voices he'd been hearing for months. "Just shut up and leave me a—"

"Al?"

Alistair froze as he turned.

There, the golden light of the afterlife shining behind her, was Chrissy.

She looked exactly as he last saw her—limbs unbroken, eyes in her skull, her expression full of shock at seeing him here, dead just like her.

But Alistair couldn't stop a smile from coming to his face as he waved at Chrissy. "Hey, Chrissy."

Chrissy gaped at him, her mouth falling open. "But... how?"

"Vecna got me too. Snapped my neck, a few days after he, uh, tried to kill me with the curse too," Alistair answered, trying to play it off casually, but knowing he was probably failing.

The shock faded, replaced by despair. "Oh, Al..."

Alistair swallowed, the ghost of tears in his eyes before he was running forward, hugging Chrissy tightly.

"God, you don't know how much me and Rowan miss you, Chrissy," he murmured, voice thick. "Rowan, she... she misses you so much. And so do Robin and Valerie. We all just really miss you, Chris."

"I miss you guys too. I really, I really do," Chrissy murmured, voice as thick as she hugged him back just as tightly. "I wish I could hug Rowan and Robin and Valerie again."

Alistair laughed a watery laugh. "Well, I hope I'm a good substitute."

Chrissy chuckled as they remained in a tight hug before pulling away. When they did, Chrissy looked at him as she asked, "Al, who's Vecna? Is... is it that monster?"

Alistair tensed, before nodding jerkily. "Yeah, yeah it is. That's what we called the bastard."

Again, he let out a laugh as he confided, "We're actually trying to kill him. Rowan... she's been on a warpath, trying to avenge you and kill the son of a bitch. If we didn't find a gate thanks to Dustin and his compass, I'm pretty sure she'd rip one open with her bare hands so she could turn Vecna into ashes."

Talking of his sister had him tense up with fear, at seeing the vine coiled around her throat, strangling her. Rowan was in danger, and she might join him and Chrissy, he had to go back—

"What are you talking about?" Chrissy asked, making Alistair look at her and remember she still didn't know—that even in death, she didn't know of the Upside Down or of his and Rowan's secrets.

"Shit. Right. You don't know," he muttered, looking at Chrissy as he said, "Chrissy, you need to know if Rowan could, she would have told you straight away. If we didn't think we wouldn't be in danger or that it would have kept you safe from all this shit, she would have told you in a heartbeat, and it's fucked up Vecna murdered you before she ever got the chance to tell you. Just know that, if she had the chance... she would have told you."

"What is it, Al? What secrets?" Chrissy questioned, still looking confused—and concerned.

Alistair blew out a breath he didn't need, turning away before he looked back and revealed, "There's another dimension, underneath Hawkins—that's where Vecna is, where I... I died and where Rowan, Steve, Robin, Nancy and Valerie currently are in trying to kill him. And we've been fighting against it, us and my friends and the Byers and my friend, El, ever since Will disappeared. And... and when I mean I fight, I mean me and Rowan... we don't fight with normal weapons."

Another unneeded breath before he dropped the bombshell. "We have superpowers. Rowan has lightning and teleportation powers and I control the dead and see ghosts. It's a family trait."

Silence from Chrissy as she stared at him, stunned, before whispering, "So that's what she wanted to tell me."

"Yeah. And trust me, she would have—I didn't know she was, but I bet she would have told you. Maybe about the Upside Down and screw those contracts we signed, too," Alistair said, wondering if his still stood after the first time he died, but that didn't matter as he looked at Chrissy. "She would have told you, Chrissy, and sooner if she felt like she could."

"I... I can't believe it. My best friend has superpowers," Chrissy breathed.

"Yup. We both do. Just... mine are more spooky and hers are more sparky," Alistair reminded, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

"I didn't forget that. I'm just... processing," Chrissy admitted. "I mean, your mom said you and Rowan had secrets, and she seemed confident you'd tell me, but I didn't know it'd be so soon—"

"You talked to my mom?" Alistair interrupted, his voice breathy.

"Yes, she did. And I must say, I'm glad your sister had such a good friend in her—and I know this Vecna will not receive any mercy from my daughter for murdering you and her."

Alistair turned, and saw his mom.

Just like the first time he saw her again, she was dressed in a white dress, a smile on her face as she stared at him.

Alistair didn't hesitate to hug her, holding her tightly.

"Hey, sweetie," his mom murmured.

"Hey, Mom," he mumbled back, holding her even more tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," his mom replied, stroking his hair. She stepped back, smiling as she held his face. "My boy."

Alistair smiled. God, he missed his mom. He didn't know how much he'd missed his mom after seeing her eight months ago, reunited in death briefly before he resurrected again, until now. Knowing it would be another brief reunion, a brief reunion between him and Chrissy, until he resurrected.

Or you couldn't. Stay here, where you belong. Remain dead.

His mom looked at him, before she frowned. "Don't."

"What?" Alistair asked, looking at his mom.

"Don't listen to that voice. No matter what it tells you, you are not ready to stay here. You need to go back," his mom told him. "You can feel it already happening, can't you?"

And Alistair did—a faint tug, the distant sound of his heart starting to beat again, someone screaming from underwater—but he didn't...

"I don't know if I should. What if... what if I'm back here again?" he whispered.

His mom smiled. "Then I will hug you again and say goodbye."

"But I... I die. I always die," he whispered. "I'm meant for death."

At hearing that, a frown grew on his mom's face as she held his face.

"Alistair Nathanial Graveswood, listen to me," she said sternly. "Your gifts are of death, yes, of speaking to and controlling the dead, of death not lasting long for you. But you are not meant for death."

Staring at him, his mom finished, "You are meant to live. So listen to that tug, and live."

She pressed her forehead against his, murmuring, "Live, Al, my darling boy, my son. Live, and use your gifts to keep fighting. Live."

Then she kissed his forehead, a ghost of affection, and stepped away, fading into the light.

Something burned in Alistair's eyes as he turned to Chrissy, knowing she must have been confused, that he would soon disappear.

"Chrissy, I wish I could tell you everything, but I—" Alistair started, but Chrissy interrupted, "It's okay. I... I'll see you again if you ever come back."

Something pained and soft shined in Chrissy's eyes as she said, "But, tell Rowan I... I don't blame her, for keeping this secret, that I understand. And that I love her so much. That she... she was the best friend I could ever have, the sister I wished I had. Her, and Robin and Valerie and Nancy. Tell her and tell them that, please. How much I love them. And... and tell Eddie I'm glad we actually, properly met again. That I know he tried to help me and save me, that I don't blame him for running. That I... I wish we could have become actual friends."

Alistair nodded. "I will, Chrissy."

Chrissy smiled, a bittersweet smile. "Goodbye, Al."

"Goodbye, Chrissy," Alistair farewelled, watching as Chrissy faded, into her afterlife—happy and at peace, the most Alistair had seen Chrissy look in months.

Then she was gone, and he was alone, the tug pulling him to his body growing stronger as he heard the beating of his heart grow louder, steadier. His resurrection coming.

But as he followed the tug, another tug pulled at him—a tug to the afterlife, of death and remaining dead.

Stay, it whispered. Not right going back twice. Remain here, and be dead.

Alistair froze. 

Everything in him was tense as the voice's words rang in his head, a lingering echo as the tug to the afterlife grew stronger, warring with the tug of life. Resurrection and death, fighting for his soul and he was the battleground. His mom's words telling him to go and live, a part of him desperate to go back because his friends, his sister, were in danger, but...

But what if he ended up back here again? How many times did Alistair have to die before he just... couldn't come back?

And how many more times did he have to die and come back before he returned as something he wasn't, that he'd become the abomination he feared he was?

What if he did become a monster?

Exactly, the voice whispered. How many times can you cheat death and be Alistair before that isn't true? How many times before pieces of yourself are left behind? You can't come back from the dead as yourself—once was a fluke, a second chance. Twice... twice is unnatural. Twice makes you an abomination. Twice makes you a monster.

They need me, another voice argued. I need to go back. I need to help them. I need to live.

Do you? Do they need a living dead boy? No. Stay dead—it's better this way. It's the right thing. You can still be Alistair if you stay dead. You won't become a monster.

Alistair gritted his teeth, his head pounding with the choice—to come back or remain. Which pull should he listen to? Death... death was so tempting, and Alistair was tired of fighting, he was tired of how frustrated and scared and hateful he'd been of himself, of what he was after the Mind Flayer, he was tired of being scared of dying.

He was just so tired.

Screw what his mom said. He was not meant for life—he was meant for death, had been since he first started seeing ghosts, since he first started raising the dead, since he first died. He was born with one foot in the grave, to return back here no matter how many times he resurrected.

Maybe he should stay, and maybe that would be for the better—

The minute Alistair thought it, his sister's voice rang in his mind, right after he survived the curse, the anger and shock on her face, like she couldn't believe he'd say or think that—that those he loved would think that.

Do you honestly think we would be better off if you remained dead?

As Rowan's list of reasons rang in his head, Alistair could see the others—Dustin, Mike and Lucas, his Party, that despite the fights and trauma and distance they'd still stuck by him, that Alistair knew deep in his bones he could always count on them. El, his friend he saw as a sister, the girl he thought he'd lost but had come back, who he'd given up his life to save and would do so again without hesitation, that they'd always protect each other. Max, his other sister in all but blood, snarky and fiery and just as eager to bottle up her grief, her guilt, just like he did, who he'd tried to volunteer in her place before Vecna killed him, who he'd give his life to save. Robin, Nancy, Valerie, Steve, Jonathan, even Leo, people he knew but he had become close with, who he cared about and would protect no matter what. Eddie, his older brother in everything but blood, who Alistair admired so much. Rowan, his sister, angry and vengeful and loyal and protective and caring and sarcastic, and Aco, his aunt, the woman who'd become a second mother to him and Rowan. Cami, his best friend, his platonic soulmate, who'd drag him out of death to kill him herself or hug him fiercely, the sunshine to his gloom, opposites and yet they worked so well, his person now and always. Hugin, his raven, the half-dead bird he'd been bonded to for three years, the bird he loved so much and who loved him. Even Ricky and Allie, who had become his friends, who understood what he was going through as much as they could, who stuck by him no matter how hard he tried to push them away, that he could count on them as much as he could count on his Party.

And Will.

Will, his best friend, his boyfriend, the one he'd fallen so utterly and hopelessly in love with. The boy he loved so much and would try desperately to make sure the Upside Down never got its claws into him again, to pull him back into the light when he was drowning in darkness—that in these past eight months, Will had been the one doing the pulling, dragging him into the light when Alistair felt like he was suffocating in so much darkness, in the cold, in death. That they stood against the world with the love and happiness they had, that it felt like it was them against the world. Zombie Boy and Ghost Boy, now and always ever since stolen crayons and kindergarten friendships turning into something so much more.

And like that, memories filled him of his friends, his family, his Party—happy memories, bad memories, memories in-between. Memories of pain and joy, memories of anger and sadness and happiness. Just memories of all the people he loved and who loved him, no matter what.

His friends, his sister, who were killing Vecna. Max, who was in Vecna's line of sight, who Vecna could be killing right now. The Demobats and Dustin and Eddie...

El and Mike, who Alistair needed to hug and never let go. Aunt Aco, who Alistair so desperately wanted to see again. And Will...

He wanted to tell Will he loved him. He wanted the chance to tell him he loved him, to have time with him, with his sister and aunt, with his sisters and brother in all but blood, with his person, with his childhood best friends. With every person he loved and cared about and who loved and cared about him.

He may be marked for death, have powers over the dead and one foot always in the grave, but he wanted to do what his mom told him, to follow that tug in the opposite direction, to crush the voices and spite Vecna and turn to the other light, the light that promised all of that when they'd won and this was over.

Alistair wanted to live.

So he ignored the tug to death and chose to follow the tug of resurrection, to come back and have that life when this was over, feeling it grow stronger, the familiar beat of his heart growing louder, steadier.

The dark voices, the darkest parts of his thoughts, noticed.

You can't! You're dead, you're going to always die! You can't always come back! You can't always be Alistair! You won't be Alistair! You're a freak, an abomination! A monster!

Alistair threw a mental middle finger as he said, Fuck you.

So what if this might have him become a monster? Alistair didn't care—he'd been so scared of what he could do before he died the first time, of being a monster because he could see ghosts and raise the dead. What was dying and coming back? 

He was not a monster, and he would never be.

The pull grew stronger, and he heard someone yelling, crying out, hear the boom of the thunder in the Upside Down over the steady beating of his heart. That while his Walkman wasn't turned on and this wasn't a Vecna-hallucination, Alistair could hear his song, encouraging him to go on, to keep going, to keep standing.

The tug was stronger, overwhelmingly strong, and the darkness of limbo was fading and the tug of death was nonexistent, and the dark thoughts, while not gone and never would be gone, were faded as Alistair turned to the light shining above him, the beating now a roar in his ears, and—

He woke up in his body, gasping for air.

Alistair hacked, the toxic air of the Upside Down slicing his lungs, but Alistair didn't care as he lurched up, feeling the steady beat of his heart in his chest, his lungs working to try and have him breathe, that he could breathe, that he could feel his heartbeat. That he was alive.

He was alive. He was really alive and always had been.

Alistair was alive.

Alistair wanted to sob in relief, that he'd come back even after Vecna killed him, that he died twice and resurrected twice. But a sharp pain attracted his attention and Alistair hissed as he clutched his neck—only to realise it felt wrong and his skin crawled when he felt the bone nearly jutting out through the skin, as grinding, cracking pain drummed through him, that the world was tilted.

His neck... it was still broken, and healing too slowly.

Pushing down his horror and revulsion, Alistair raised his hands to his head, bracing himself before he jerked his head.

His neck followed, sharply twisted back into place before Vecna had snapped it, and Alistair gasped as pain needled through him, the bones of his snapped neck healing much more rapidly until it was like his neck hadn't been broken at all—like Vecna hadn't killed him by snapping it and Alistair had to twist his neck back into place so it could actually heal.

Alistair swallowed down vomit as he staggered to his feet, now registering his surroundings.

And what he saw chilled him.

The sheet rope was cut, the ends lying on both sides of the gate. The mattress on the Upside Down side was gone, shoved to the side, and Alistair could see the mattress in the real world was gone too, a chair in its place. A spear and two nail shields remained in the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer.

And Eddie and Dustin were gone. And so were the Demobats.

Icy fear prickled at Alistair and he stumbled to the door, flinging it open. Outside, he heard the crash of thunder as crimson lightning sheared the sky, saw the decrepit and vine-constricted trailers and gloomy sky of the Upside Down.

And he heard Dustin, screaming.

"Eddie!"

Alistair turned, seeing his friend just a couple metres away, leaning heavily on a spear as he shouted again, "Eddie!"

Alistair didn't hesitate, bolting down the trailer and toward Dustin despite the ache of his recently-healed neck, despite having just returned from the dead. He didn't care as he ran to Dustin, because where was Eddie, why was Dustin screaming his name, where was Eddie?!

Alistair skidded to a stop behind Dustin, yelling, "Dustin!"

Dustin turned, and his eyes widened. "Holy shit! Al, you're alive!"

"Yeah—just resurrected," Alistair said.

Dustin stared at him, as if still in shock at seeing him newly resurrected, before his eyes squinted. "Wait, Al, what happened to your—" 

"Dustin, what happened? Where's Eddie?" Alistair demanded, interrupting Dustin, panic choking him, ignoring whatever Dustin was going to ask him in favour of needing to know what had happened in the time when he was dead and before he resurrected. Of where Eddie was, that his fear had to be wrong.

At that, fear drained Dustin's face. "Eddie, he cut the rope, and he... he drew the Demobats away."

Fear froze Alistair. No.

Eddie couldn't... he couldn't die, not when Max could be dying from Vecna, not when he'd just died and come back. Alistair couldn't lose Eddie.

"Where.... where is he?" he managed to choke out.

Dustin turned, pointing to the distance. "I... I-I think he's there. He... I think he's trying..."

Dustin didn't need to finish, because Alistair saw it too—a swarm of whirling death, too far away to discern distinct shapes and yet Alistair knew that was Demobats. And in the centre was a lone figure, trying to fight them off.

Eddie.

Alistair snapped out of his frozen state, making to run before he saw that Dustin was hobbling, favouring one leg over the other. The chair and absence of mattresses, the agonised scream Alistair had heard, rushed back into his mind as he doubled back and put his arm around Dustin, his friend nearly stumbling in surprise, but he wrapped an arm around Alistair's shoulders as they hobbled as fast as they could to the death-swarm, Dustin yelling, "Eddie!"

"Eddie! We're coming! Eddie!" Alistair screamed—but as he screamed, he saw as Eddie was knocked down, as amid the Demobats' roars, agonised screams ran out.

Alistair and Dustin gave each other wide-eyed, panicked looks, before they hobbled faster, screaming, "EDDIE!"

But those screams met them back, and Alistair stifled his own scream as pain ripped through, teeth tearing into his flesh along his sides, his face, more and more painful with every second—the bats tearing into Eddie, eating him alive, killing him, and Alistair was feeling every second of it, but he ignored it because it couldn't be too late, he and Dustin could get there and they could save Eddie, no one else on their side was dying tonight, he wasn't going to lose Eddie.

But as Dustin and Alistair were now only metres away, something happened.

The Demobats, instead of roaring, gave out cries of pain and confusion before, one by one, they fell to the ground, until no more remained in the sky.

Alistair stared at the sight in shock, before a thought whispered, Did they do it? Is Vecna...

It had to be. There was no other explanation. Somehow, Rowan, Steve, Nancy, Robin and Valerie had gotten free of the vines, and they killed Vecna—and via the hive-mind, it killed or at least severely stunned the Demobats. They'd done it. Vecna was dead and Max, she...

She was safe. They were both safe.

But Alistair couldn't celebrate—not when he could still feel the pain tearing through him from multiple, fatal bites and the familiar feeling of blood draining out too fast and too much, could see Eddie lying on the ground, unmoving. Dying before his and Dustin's eyes.

The pair didn't hesitate before they half-ran half-hobbled to the fallen, heroic metalhead, shouting, "Eddie!"

And hoping they weren't too late.

***

Uh, about that, Alistair...

Yeah, Alistair came back! He was never going to remain dead, but it was a struggle in choosing not to. But, he reunited with his mom again who told him he had to live—and his reunion with Chrissy and what she told him to tell Rowan, Robin, Valerie, Nancy and Eddie 😭🥺

But yeah, Alistair is back after an internal battle with his darkest thoughts and fears, before the memory of his friends, his family, his Party, had him see he wants to live, to live and be with his Party and with Will, to just live, and know he's alive and not a monster. That while he may never get rid of his fears of himself and his powers, of those dark thoughts, he still chooses to live, to keep standing (and I can just imagine this epic, orchestral cover of I'm Still Standing playing as Alistair is resurrected and the memories flash in his head, and it would be so epic and heart-tugging to see) He's back, and he's alive—and yeah, he had to snap his neck back in place so it could heal properly 😖

But after, Alistair noticed something isn't right, and caught up with Dustin—and saw the Demobats attack Eddie and feel Eddie being eaten alive before they dropped thanks to Murray and Aco in Russia (and Alistair thinking Max is okay and safe and they won 😭)

But next chapter... next chapter will be painful. Get the tissues ready—you might need it, and I'm sorry in advance for the pain

Please read, comment and vote!

GhostWriterGirl out!