— CHAPTER 19 —
BAIT AND TRAP

SUNDAY 4th NOVEMBER,
1984

THE sun rose the next day and glared through the windscreen of Steve's car — Daphne had anticipated waking up in her own bed at home, but instead found herself squinting into bright sunlight, with cramp in her limbs and Dustin snoring happily in the back seat. Now she remembered... the trio had cooped up in the Harrington boy's BMW for the night to protect themselves from Dart.

     After that, the three of them had put together a plan. If they could simply lure Dart as deep into the woods as possible, far from where he could endanger the average Hawkins citizen, then they could hopefully just kill him there and then; nip things in the bud, so to speak. It had warranted a trip to a few locations at the cusp of opening hour, including the hunting store Daphne had visited with Nancy and Jonathan almost a year ago. Meanwhile Steve had grappled with the strange paradox of the usually peaceful, socially awkward girl paying for supplies at the counter with a sheepish excuse:

     "Hunting season?" she'd replied.

     And she wasn't wrong. Two years in a row, she is hunting monsters again — and both times, Daphne wonders if they are way out of their league.

     So a few hours later Daphne is here, inhaling the pungent stench of raw fleshy lumps, which she's tossing ceremoniously on the ground from magenta rubber gloves. A long trail of the stuff is being left along the train tracks strewn with yellow autumn leaves, like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs, working as bait to lure Dart... wherever he is. She walks a little way behind Steve and Dustin, who jump between topics to banter over like long-lost brothers. Daphne finds it so bizarrely endearing to see how they've connected, although they would probably hate to admit it. The King of Hawkins High, and a D&D-loving Middle Schooler — who would have thought it? Right now, she eavesdrops as Steve tries to wrap his head around Dustin's love life... as does Daphne.

     "So let me get this straight," Steve is trying to clarify. "You kept something you knew was probably dangerous, in order to impress a girl who... who you just met?"

     Dustin rolls his eyes, scoffing. "Alright, that's grossly oversimplifying things."

     "Why would a girl like some nasty slug anyways?"

     "An inter-dimensional slug? Because it's awesome."

     Whatever happened to flowers? Or a love letter? Daphne thinks to herself, perplexed. She still can't believe Dustin kept something from the Upside Down, and all to impress a girl. Kids these days. But she doesn't voice her thoughts just yet, enjoying the way neither of them have noticed her quietly eavesdropping — Steve and Dustin's banter is far too entertaining to interrupt.

     "Well even if she thought it was cool, which she didn't, I– I just... I don't know... I just feel like you're trying way too hard."

     "Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?" Dustin murmurs, sounding downtrodden.

     "It's not about the hair, man," Steve insists. "The key with girls is just... just acting like you don't care."

     Daphne's eyebrows knit tightly together mid-throw, the thwack of flesh on the earth imitating how his words stun her. She's more confused than anything, so she continues to listen...

     "Even if you do?"

     "Yeah, exactly. It drives them crazy."

     What? she mouths to herself. She is almost certain that it's the most insane thing she has ever heard.

     "Then what?" asks Dustin innocently.

     "Then you just wait until you, uh... until you feel it," Steve replies, rolling his shoulders back and punching the younger boy's arm.

     "Feel what?"

     The older teen bites his lip in thought, pitching a hunk of meat across the train tracks like a baseball. "It's like before it's gonna storm, you know? You can't see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?"

     Okay... Daphne finds herself bounding a couple of steps closer to Steve, curious to hear what he means.

     Dustin prematurely assumes his expertise in this area, as he starts rambling: "Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere—"

     "No, no, no, like a... like a sexual electricity."

     "Okay, I'm sorry, I can't listen to this anymore..." Daphne confesses in an incredulous half-laugh. Circling around to face them, she stares at Steve in disbelief. "Sexual electricity? Really? The boy's thirteen!"

     "Hey, the kid asked for advice, so I'm giving it," Steve shrugs, as if he is well-versed in this area.

     "Sure. Don't let me stop you. Enlighten us," her voice drips with sarcasm.

     Falling into step with them now, she tosses a square of meat over her shoulder and listens to Steve's girl-wisdom that he lathers onto a clueless Dustin. "... Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, right, so– so when you feel that electricity, that's when you make your move."

     "So that's when you kiss her?" Dustin smiles hopefully.

     "No!" Steve and Daphne exclaim in unison, suddenly agreeing for once.

     But it's Steve who continues giving advice, before she can get a word in edgeways. "Sure, okay, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive."

     "Oh, is that so?" Daphne counters, facing him and walking steadily backwards now.

     "Yeah," he replies, almost slightly thrown that she's challenging the Steve Harrington doctrine for getting girls. "You know, strong, hot and heavy like... I don't know, like a lion. But others, you gotta be steady, you gotta be slow, like a... like a ninja."

     "A ninja?" Dustin echoes.

     "Exactly."

     Daphne shakes her head slowly, chuckling in disbelief. Her toes are practically curling at everything she is hearing — even with less 'experience' than people like Steve might have, she has always thought herself something of an expert in love... or at least a true romantic at heart. Daphne likes to think she knows what really matters in a relationship, for whenever the right one may come along for her. For once, the world of demogorgons and other dimensions is far from her mind, as this much more pressing matter rises to her attention...

     "Alright, as an actual member of the female species, can I just butt in?" she asks rhetorically, and Steve sighs and stops in his tracks. "I don't know what idea of girls you've got in your head, but that is not what we want. Lions and ninjas..." Daphne scoffs and throws her arms up in the air. "Of course girls want you to care! You're putting such weird ideas into Dustin's head."

     "Oh, so you think you're more of an expert?"

     "Yes, Steve, I do! I mean, everything you just said is all about lust and nothing really to do with feelings, or caring about someone. That's way more important. You get to know that person, their likes and dislikes, maybe even their deepest fears when you get there, and then who knows?"

     "Oh, God..." Steve rolls his eyes, almost sickened by her idealism.

     Daphne turns to the younger boy and asks, "Dustin, do you like this girl? I mean, really like her, personality and everything?"

     "I guess so," he sighs dreamily. "I don't know, she's really special. There's just something about her—"

     "Whoa, hey, stop right there..." Steve interjects, his stare suddenly hardened like steel with an alert cautiousness. It even throws Daphne off guard for a moment. "You're not falling in love with this girl, are you?"

     "... Uh, no. No," Dustin replies. It isn't like he would have said anything else, not with the look he was getting.

     Once Steve is convinced, he finally tears his eyes away from the boy and chucks more meat onto the tracks, like small fragments of a bigger broken piece. "Okay, good," he grumbles bitterly. "Because she's only gonna break your heart, and you're way too young for that shit."

     His words throw a dampener over the conversation, leaving them only cold and charred with thought. Daphne can see how torn up he still is about Nancy — again, who she hadn't realised just how much she was loved by Steve, until it was all over. Even she can testify to what he said, though. When she thinks of the dizzying heights of getting her hopes up with first love, and then the back-breaking fall when the rug was pulled from underneath her... kids like Dustin have plenty of time to experience that pain, the real kind. Puppy love couldn't hurt for now.

     So, Daphne reflects with a curious glance, it would seem Steve isn't the only one who has had a broken heart; who is still treading carefully to pick up the pieces and cradle them back to health.

     When the conversation between them finally kickstarts again, it's Steve who starts it — but not in the way Daphne had expected at all.

     "Fabergé."

     "What?"

     Sighing, as if he can't believe he is sharing this, Steve points at his hair and elaborates for Dustin: "It's Fabergé Organics. Use the shampoo and the conditioner, and when your hair's damp — it's not wet, okay? When it's damp..."

      "Damp," Dustin murmurs, as if taking a mental note.

     "... You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray."

     "Farrah Fawcett spray?" Dustin echoes, while Daphne snorts at the new information.

     "Yeah, Farrah Fawcett," Steve whirls around sharply and points a handful of meat at him. "You tell anyone I just told you that... and your ass is grass. You're dead, Henderson. Do you understand?"

     "Yup," he gulps.

     "And that goes for you too, Delaney. I don't wanna hear you gossiping to any of your... I– I don't know, hippie Film Club friends about anything you just heard, alright?"

     Raising her hands in surrender, Daphne simply answers: "Who's Farrah Fawcett?"

     After narrowing her eyes at her sceptically, Steve finally nods slowly, as if he trusts her with this top secret information. With that, the three of them carry on trotting by the train tracks, damp yellow leaves sticking to their shoes as they leave trails of bait for Dart. The Farrah Fawcett secret brews silently between them, Daphne unable to take her eyes off the escalating altitudes of Steve's hair with an amused smirk.

     Dustin manages to change the subject at first. "So, Farrah Fawcett, electricity, act like you don't care. Is that it?"

     "In a nutshell, yeah," Steve nods.

     "Seriously?" Daphne protests, "You're gonna listen to him over your actual demographic over here?"

     "Yeah. I mean, I don't know..." Dustin stammers, "He– he knows this stuff. And the hair!"

     "Alright... your funeral, bud," she shrugs in acceptance.

     Another few beats pass. They hurtle chunks of meat on the tracks, walk a little further, pondering quietly.

     Then Dustin laughs with a shake of his head. "Farrah Fawcett..."

     "What? She's hot," Steve justifies.

     "Who knew you were the fourth Charlie's Angel?" Daphne adds with brave mischief.

     "Oh, shut up," the Harrington boy fires back, chucking a bit of bait at her, which she just manages to dodge...

But he is smiling.

━━━━━━

AFTER a lot more walking, talking and bait-dropping, the trio finally arrive at their destination — the junkyard. Dustin says he knows this place, having wandered to this spot last year with his friends while looking for Will. Standing here now, Daphne squints at it all and tries to imagine her sister here; her little Mary Janes treading between sharp scraps of rusted metal, hiding in the giant bus wreck amid the grass from the Bad Men. Daphne can't believe she has never seen this place before. It's almost... apocalyptic. A spark inside her re-kindles her writer's inspiration, her periphery narrowing to the dimensions of a film screen as she imagines some lone travellers trekking past here for survival at the world's end. Should she be writing this down?

     Steve squints through the shades now donned on his head, his yellow rubber-gloved hands resting on his hips. "Oh yeah... yeah, this will do. This will do just fine." Slapping Dustin on the back, he adds, "Good call, dude."

Sighing with relief, Daphne lugs her rucksack off her back and onto the ground, taking a swig of water from her flask to get refreshed again. "Alright, so now we're here, what's our next call? Set up some kind of barracks before Dart gets here?"

Before any of them can respond, the tick-ticking of bicycle wheels draws their attention to two new arrivals — Lucas Sinclair on his bike, along with a red-headed girl around his age perched on the back. It takes Daphne a moment to recognise her without her signature skateboard, but she soon connects the dots to realise it must be Billy Hargrove's sister... does she know her name yet? She can't remember. The last few days have been a blur.

Already she seems to be stirring trouble, for Dustin and Lucas instantly get wrapped up in a tense negotiation about who went wrong and where. Something over confidentiality and secrets, as well as the obvious elephant in the room of Dart being on the loose. The duo take their conversation behind one of the rusting cars, leaving Steve and Daphne alone with the girl. The thirteen year-old digs her sneakers into the dirt, arms folded defensively across her chest as strands of red hair whip her cheeks in the wind.

"Hey, I'm Daphne... and, uh, this is Steve," she introduces themselves awkwardly, the other teen waving a gloved hand at her and squinting into the setting sun behind her.

"Oh, uh, hi," she nods back. "I'm Max... I'm new here."

"Yeah, I know," says Daphne. "I recognised you. How're you finding all of this, Max?"

Max nods, but then shrugs decisively; as if she has already decided to just roll with the crazy punches ahead of her. "So, what exactly are we doing here? Stalker over there told me the whole story, but it's not like those details... helped. You know?"

"How about, uh, we start grabbing those metal sheets?" Steve suggests, pointing to the sheets of rusting corrugated iron scattered around the junkyard. "We could put them up against the bus."

     The trio actually left to work jump straight onto the task — Steve notices the rusted, sharp edges of the sheets and advises Max not to handle them with her bare hands, instead leaving that work to him and Daphne. The younger girl has the responsibility of holding the sheets in place with flat palms as the other two hammer them down. At one point Steve leaves to find more sheets, leaving the two girls alone for a moment.

     "Hey, um, Daphne?" she asks.

     "Yeah?"

     "You wouldn't happen to be Cath's sister by any chance, would you?"

     Daphne smiles. "That's me."

"Oh, cool. I was wondering, 'cause I was waiting for the bus after school and I saw her get into a car with you, so..."

"So, you two know each other then?"

     "I guess so. We sat together for lunch the other day," Max explains, with a small shrug. "She's... nice. But I just don't know a lot about her yet. Cath isn't the type of kid I'd usually hang out with, or... or who'd wanna hang out with me. And I guess she seems kind of quiet or shy, 'cause she just let me talk about myself most of the time."

     "That seems to run in our family," Daphne chuckles sheepishly, thinking of her own tendency to often keep to herself. "But yeah, Cath's always been on the shyer side. Although it's funny, 'cause I'd say she's better socially than I was at her age. It just takes time for her to figure out who to trust, that's all. I'm sure she would love to be friends with you."

     "Oh... cool," the redhead hums, as if the fact gives her a sense of calm.

     "So, Billy, he's your brother?" Daphne asks carefully.

     A muscle in Max's jaw flares as she clenches her jaw. "Step-brother. But, yeah, I guess he is."

     "I see..." She pauses, for the way the girl reacted seems to say everything about the relationship Max has with Billy — and nothing good in the slightest. Daphne shifts uncomfortably at the tension that just tightened the air. She barely knows this girl, but she also has the feeling they might be having a few more run-ins yet, and with that arrives the instinct to try and find out more. Seeing Billy's recklessness at school herself, none of it bodes well. "Where'd you guys move from?" Daphne eventually asks, tip-toeing carefully around a stranger's personal life.

     "California. My stepdad wanted us to move here. A fresh start, or something, I don't know..."

     Daphne scoffs sympathetically. "Your stepdad sure has an interesting choice in towns."

     "Right? It's like... he threw a dart at a map blindfolded."

     The two girls chuckle among themselves, just as Steve walks along before they can continue their conversation. He cups his gloved hand over his eyes and squints over at the rusting car in the distance. Then he kicks the ground with a huff, grumbling in irritation, "Seriously? Those airheads are still talking over there?"

     "They're probably conspiring or something," Max deadpans.

     "I swear to God, man..."

     With a metal sheet in hand, Steve stomps over to the car and clangs it against the bonnet, visibly making Dustin and Lucas lurch out of their skin. "Hey! Dickheads!" he greets them ceremoniously. "How come the only ones helping me out are Delaney and this random girl? We lose light in forty minutes. Let's go... let's go, I said!"

     "Alright, asshole! God!" Dustin snaps, as Lucas also curses something as if being scolded by a big brother.

     With the whole team assembled, they combine forces for better this time. They hammer sheets together, wheel large barrels over to the rusting bus and stock it inside with plenty of weapons and reinforcements. There is complete harmony in the way they work together, seamless like clockwork (in spite of the frequent bickering between them all). With the amount they manage to get done before sundown, Daphne is reminded of exactly why she, Nancy and Jonathan thought themselves capable of finding Will themselves last year... because sleepy old Hawkins wasn't going to do anything.

     Daphne is trotting back and forth inside the bus and fitting it with corrugated iron sheets as Lucas comes in, supplying her with another. But instead of leaving to get more, he hovers by her, looking back and forth sheepishly. She finally reacts with a large sigh, standing to her full height in the last shards of sunlight that penetrate the bus wreck. "... Everything good?" she asks him.

     "Yeah. It's just, uh, I... I saw you talking to Max earlier."

     "Oh yeah. She's pretty cool, isn't she?" Daphne says amidst a clang of corrugated iron.

     Lucas shifts on the spot, hands on his hips. "Um, yeah... so, did she, uh... you– you know, did she say anything?"

     "About what?"

     "About... me?"

     Oh, thinks Daphne, a grin tugging her lips to the skies. Taking in Lucas right now, she knows that look perfectly. She can see it in his eyes, his hands, his stance, everything. The Sinclair boy is practically an open book to her. "Let me guess," she places her hands atop a pitchfork handle. "You're looking for advice on how to talk to Max because you like her. Is that right?"

     His breath hitching in his throat, Lucas sheepishly asks, "Is it that obvious?"

     Oh, you poor thing. Painfully obvious.

     "No. Just a little instinct I have. Now come here..." Daphne gestures for him to come closer, so the two crouch underneath the window with lower voices. "Okay, so rule number one is, don't listen to anything Steve Harrington tells you about girls."

     Lucas furrows his eyebrows. "Why?"

     "Just trust me on this one."

     "Alright, what are the other rules?"

     She thinks for a moment, delving deeper into her thoughts and rummaging around. "... 'Rules' maybe isn't the right word. If you genuinely want to get to know a girl, then really the key is to pay attention — listen to what she has to say, remember the big things and the little things. Especially the little things. And be a gentleman, too. There's something to be said for chivalry. Girls want to be cared for, even the ones who won't admit it. But don't smother her, that's just annoying."

     Taking in her stream of consciousness, Lucas nods slowly as though he is studying for a test. "Okay, so pay attention, remember things about her — little things — be a gentleman, and care but don't smother... I think I've got it..."

     "But, hey, Lucas?" Daphne interjects before he can rush off, tilting her head gently at him. "I know this stuff feels kind of big and scary at your age, but it's not rocket science. Just... don't overthink it. We don't bite, I promise."

     Lucas considers this quietly. "My Dad says that even if you think a girl's wrong, she isn't. They're always right."

"Damn straight. Now, remember what I told you... and good luck."

"Thanks," he laughs, rubbing the nape of his neck bashfully. She hears the stomping of his boots as he trots out of the bus wreck, striking up casual conversation with Max as they pick up a large ladder together.

Take that, Harrington. Now we'll see who's the expert, Daphne thinks playfully, demogorgons being the furthest thing from her mind for once.

━━━━━━

WITH the sun sunken well beneath the horizon a while later, a veil of mist settles over the junkyard along with a chill; it creeps through the rusting hinges of the bus and seeps through the metal, making Daphne shudder. She blows into her cupped hands and massages the warmth from her breath into her fingers. All of them are gathered inside the bus now — Steve, sat opposite just like her on the ground, flicks a lighter on and off in his hand, the intermittent flame teasing the promise of warmth. Above, Lucas is on spying duty with his binoculars, lending his skills to look out for Dart from every direction. That leaves Max and Dustin in the lower level of the bus with Steve and Daphne.

Max, hands anxiously moving up and down her jeans, is hypnotised by the lighter clicking on and off. "So, you really fought one of these things before?"

Steve tosses his head her way, nods coolly, and flicks off his lighter again, as if trying to achieve some rugged charm. With a small roll of her eyes, Daphne elaborates: "I mean, we beat its ass, sure. But we'll just have to say what the hell the score is with Dart... whatever he is."

"Are you, like, totally one hundred percent sure it wasn't a bear?"

"Shit. Don't be an idiot, okay?" Dustin suddenly snaps aggressively, sizing up to Max — both of the girls seem equally as shocked at his outburst, the boy usually much sweeter and open-minded. "It wasn't a bear. Why are you even here if you don't believe us? Just go home."

Clicking her tongue bitterly, Max's knuckles whiten around the rungs of the ladder. "Geez, someone's cranky. Past your bedtime?"

The trio left down in the bus watch her climb the ladder; Steve is the only one smirking slightly, an almost proud glint in his eyes. "That's good," he nods towards Dustin, "just show her you don't care."

Ah. So Dustin likes Max too... the plot thickens.

"I don't," he tries to assert firmly.

"Dustin, come on," Daphne groans, "There's being mysterious and brooding, and then there's just being mean."

     The boy shifts uncomfortably, as if he realises this too, but then he becomes distracted by Steve's expression — did he just... wink at him? "Why are you winking, Steve?" Dustin asks distastefully. "Stop it." Upon his request, the older teen just shrugs it off, as if he can't understand what the problem is. Annoyed, Dustin storms off to the other end of the bus, grumbling something about testing out his Supercom; he sits with his back to them as he starts fiddling with the antenna.

     Trickles of conversation arrive to Daphne from the bus roof, like music to her ears. Quiet, fond words exchanged between Max and Lucas — she feels dimples carve themselves into her cheeks with the smile that paints her face. Opposite her, Steve seems to notice, leaving his lighter alone for once and frowning at her. "What're you smiling about?" he asks. 

     "They're talking," she whispers, gazing up at the roof as she hears Max laugh.

     "And that's important... why?"

     "It means it's working," Daphne looks at him triumphantly. "My advice, I mean."

     Steve soon connects the dots and groans, one hand dangling leisurely over his knee. "Come on, really? I mean, what do you want me to do, give you a gold star? Admit you're kind of right?"

     "Yes. Because I am right."

Both of them can't help but chuckle then. Daphne blows some more breath into her cupped palms then, shoulders hunched as she rubs the warmth over her skin again.

"You cold?" Steve frowns.

"Kinda," she says, by which she means very. It's not necessarily too cold outside, but Daphne can feel it seeping through the metal and into her bones with every passing minute...

     Without a second thought, Steve weighs the lighter in his hands and chucks it over to her. Daphne reaches to catch it, but it clatters into her lap. She picks it up and clumsily attempts to flick it on — it might be from the cold and from the growing anticipation of Dart's arrival, but she just can't seem to get it right. Eventually, Steve has enough: "Alright, here," he says, shuffling forwards so he is crouched in front of her. He takes the lighter from her hands and switches it on himself. When the small flame ignites, he cradles it carefully and holds it between them. Daphne cups her hands around it and feels small prickles of warmth caress her skin.

     "Can you feel anything?" he asks.

     "Yeah, a little bit," Daphne looks up at him. "Thanks."

     The flame flickers like candlelight against glass in Steve's eyes. He exhales softly, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. The two of them sit for a moment like this, as if huddled around the smallest of campfires.

     "Do you think the bait is gonna work?" she thinks out loud, her voice small.

     Steve shrugs. "I sure hope so. We've given that lizard a whole damn buffet, so he'd better take it—"

     Almost right on cue, a shriek echoes from the forested depths surrounding them. Steve almost drops the lighter but manages to catch it, the small little world between them suddenly bloating back out to the unavoidable reality. Dustin rushes back to meet them at the window.

     "Lucas, you see anything up there?" Daphne hollers up the ladder.

     "I'm trying, hold on!" he calls back, adjusting his binoculars as a worried Max perched beside him.

     Daphne walks back to the window, rubbing shoulders with Steve and Dustin as they squint through the mist for any sign of creatures. "I've got eyes! Ten o'clock, ten o'clock!" Lucas suddenly cries, the exact moment Daphne lays eyes on it through the mist — the vague shape of a gnarled creature on all fours, familiar but also unnervingly new. But the cackling, guttural growl that comes from it is one she knows incredibly well. It yanks her back to 1983, to being dragged through tree trunks and beating every ounce of life out of that thing. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickle at the memory.

     "What's he doing?" Dustin asks, after a few moments.

     "I have no idea,"

     "He's not taking the bait, why's he not taking the bait?" Steve ponders in frustration.

     "Maybe he's not hungry?" Dustin suggests.

     "... Or maybe he's sick of cow."

     The penny drops. Slowly, Daphne turns to look at Steve, fearing the worst; but she sees his features hardening with determination already. "Steve, no—" she finds herself saying, but he is already getting up and walking towards the door, wielding the nail bat from last year. "What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?"

     "He wants bait, so I'm giving him bait. Just stay here and keep an eye on the others," he says firmly, with a blind bravery that sets Daphne aflame — she doesn't know whether it's admiration or rage.

     "No way. I'm coming with you."

     She can't quite believe those words came out of her mouth, not even thinking about them at all beforehand; but she finds that she stands by them. Steve instantly objects, shaking his head fiercely. "Daphne, no—"

     "Yes. I'm not gonna watch that thing shred you to pieces. At least it'll be two against one... that worked last time."

     "But you don't have anything to fight it with."

     Looking around, Daphne searches for the nearest object. In the corner gleams a pitchfork she propped there earlier — an old friend from her last run-in with a demogorgon. She weighs it in her hand, albeit slightly uneasily, but swallows her fear through the newly pumping adrenaline and glares at him. It's not the best weapon, but it's better than nothing. And it worked last time.

     "You happy now?" she asks.

     Steve sighs, as if he knows he can't compete with that. He nods towards the door, but still insists that he goes in front for safety. It swings open into the mist and the duo tread carefully onto the damp grass, Dustin shutting the door behind them — it fills Daphne with a dreaded sense of finality. Still, she finds herself not as scared as she might have been on her own in that bus. With Steve ready for a fight, she dares to think she could be just as brave too.

     Whistling after the creature as if it were a dog, Steve calls out, "Come on buddy..." — Daphne's palms sweat around the pitchfork handle and she swallows thickly. Unintentionally while looking out for Dart, her back touches Steve's, which ends up proving an additional comfort. Fused together this way, they have eyes in the back of their head. And she'll know that he isn't gone.

     "Come on... dinner time..." Steve digs his heel into the dirt and coos to Dart, hidden in the mist, cautiously. "Human tastes better than cat, I promise."

     "Guys, watch out!" Lucas's voice comes out strangled from above.

     "A little busy here!"

     But Daphne's heart lurches in her chest as she sees it too. "No, he's right," she nudges his arm with a free hand. "Look... over there..." Steve follows her gaze to another corner of the junkyard — where another creature has emerged. Then two, then three. Before long they are surrounded by the prowling demodogs, like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey. The duo teeter on the edge of fight or flight, Daphne frantically trying to choose a demodog to focus on.

     "Steve, we're outnumbered, we can't take this many!" she whisper-yells.

     "STEVE! DAPHNE!" Dustin screams from the bus doorway. "ABORT, ABORT!"

     The demodogs pounce. In a whirlwind of moves, Daphne finds herself head-to-head with a demodog on her left. She manages to thrust her pitchfork into it, but is left with the dilemma of it getting stuck while another charges for her. "Steve!" she exclaims, but he's already there, his nail bat whacking hard into her attacker. Daphne retrieves the pitchfork out of one wounded demodog, turning her attention to Steve as he rolls over the bonnet of a rusted car to dodge another attack. Two more demodogs suddenly come flying their way, one of them coming for Steve, which she manages to take out with a thud of the pitchfork handle into its body.

     "Run, run!" Steve yells at her, his hand pushing the small of Daphne's back. The two of them tear towards the bus door held open by Dustin, pushing their body weight against the door once inside. A swarm of demodogs pound against the metal, Daphne and Steve trying their best to block the door as the whole bus rocks back and forth. How many would it take to get inside here? Out of sheer determination to stay alive and protect the youngsters, she severely hopes the answer is not enough.

     "Are they rabid or something?" asks Max frantically.

     "They can't get in, they can't!" Lucas says in a panic, as if trying to convince himself.

     Dustin is desperately fiddling with his Supercom, screaming incoherently into it: "Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God! Anyone! We're at the old junkyard, and we are going to die!"

     The bus jerks more violently this time, emitting screams from the younger kids. Daphne squeezes her eyes shut, dreading the worst as she feels her body roll away from holding back the door. They are not dying here. They are not dying here. They are not dying here. Then, suddenly, everything goes still.

     Thump. Thump. Thump.

     Imprints of claws through the metal roof. Like footsteps in the snow, they draw nearer to the open latch where the ladder goes down. Shit. They left the latch open. Below it stands Max, her gaze slowly drawn upwards. Above her is a gaping mouth; her subsequent scream drowned out by the intensity of its saliva-lined roar. But before anything can attack anyone, Daphne is barely on her feet as Steve pushes past all the kids fiercely.

     "Out of the way! Out of the way!" he barks, then shakes his bat threateningly at the demodog. "You want some? Come get this!"

Steve seems prepared to wage war on the demodog, but he doesn't get the chance — a chorus of screeches suddenly tempt the creature away from the bus. In fact, the whole pack soon dissipates, scurrying off into the woods. When they are sure it is safe, Daphne and Steve step out, followed by the shell-shocked trail of Middle Schoolers. They all watch the demodogs vanish into the night, equally as stunned.

"Is everyone okay?" Daphne asks breathlessly, and they all nod.

"What happened there?" Max asks, perplexed.

Dustin shrugs. "Steve scared 'em off?"

"No," replies Steve, the nail bat slung over his shoulder. "No way. They're going somewhere..."

━━━━━━

TODAY has been one of the longest days of Cath's life. These four walls have become too familiar to her, trapped inside the Hawkins Lab for God only knows how long. The only true constants getting her through have been two things — Mike, a friend and mutual shoulder to lean on, and of course her father. Cath didn't know how much she wanted her dad at her side until now.

Earlier on, while doctors had been debating the situation after they tested Will, the boy had been fast asleep in his hospital bed; until a flurry of fast-paced blips on the monitor lurched him back into consciousness. His wide eyes had searched for Cath and Mike at his bedside, as he hoarsely choked out: "I saw something... the Shadow Monster... I think I know how to stop it." A revelation for sure, it had led to doctors and loved ones of his gathering over a table of Polaroids taken in the tunnels. Will pointed out an area which the Shadow Monster's hive mind hid from him, as if he didn't want to see it.

Nothing about this sits right with Cath, but she just can't pinpoint why. First of all, she isn't an idiot — she knows the conversations the doctors have been having. In their eyes, it seems, Will's life (which seems short-lived in his condition anyway) is expendable, if it means they can exterminate the threat of the Shadow Monster. They keep talking about 'the burn'. Dr. Owens, at least, seems to be fighting for Will's case, bending over backwards to protect the boy from the cold pragmatism of science. Cath knows all about it. She also knows that her father is aware, too — he keeps trying to sugarcoat it for her, but even he seems to know that is futile.

But if Will is right, now all they have to do is wait.

In the dark hospital room, Cath frowns. It can't be that easy. Surely.

Slumping in her chair, while Joyce, Bob and Thomas stand around Will's bed, she sighs in contemplation. Mike seems to notice this next to her, leaning forward in his seat. "Do you think they'll be much longer?" he asks restlessly, leg bouncing.

"Who knows?" Cath shrugs. Then, narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head. "The Shadow Monster sure works in strange ways. I mean, it's this big, powerful thing, but it lets Will see its secret hiding spot? I don't know... seems like a weird flaw in the whole spying-on-us plan it has."

Mike sits with this thought for a moment, glazing over like he does sometimes. Before either of them can think further, a sound distracts them — a choked sob. It's Will. Wide awake in his bed, the boy's face contorts with horror and guilt, the first completely clear glimpse of Will Byers as Cath knows him in hours.

"I'm sorry," his voice wobbles.

Joyce stands over him, holding his hand dotingly, but her eyes are rife with confused worry. "What? What do you mean, sweetie?"

"He made me do it..."

Cath freezes. Her blood runs cold, like half-melted ice, turning all her body rigid.

"Who? Who made you do what?"

     "I told you... they upset him..." Will's voice trembles, almost teetering on deep-rooted anger he doesn't understand. "... They shouldn't have done that. They shouldn't have upset him."

     "Cath," a tight voice murmurs next to her, grabbing her attention. She whirls her head around to see Mike staring at her, face suddenly struck pale with dread. A thousand thoughts seem to be racing through his mind that he can't keep up with — until finally, they solidify into one big, horrible epiphany.

     "You were right," Mike says quietly.

     She blinks at him. "I... I was?"

     The boy grabs her forearm, shaking it slightly for emphasis. "The spy... the spy!"

     Cath connects the dots with enough repetition from Mike — she swears her heart shatters and crumbles to the ground. Will, the spy.... of course he knew everything. But then if it wasn't Will who led them here... the Shadow Monster hadn't just let the secret location slip. It had control the whole time, pulling the strings on its limp-limbed puppet boy. And every single person had fallen hook, line and sinker for it.

     Out in the hallway, Mike has hurtled towards the armed guards who now hold him like a vice. The boy writhes and kicks in their iron grip, screaming like bloody murder, "IT'S A TRAP! I HAVE TO WARN THEM, IT'S A TRAP!"

     Thomas's eyes have turned to ice, cold with worry as he stares at his daughter. "What's happening? What– what's he saying?"

"The Shadow Monster knew... it knew..." Cath trails off, even if her father doesn't fully understand yet. But right as it sinks in for Thomas, the room erupts into chaos. Ear-shattering alarms blare and heighten the panic in the air, red warning lights flashing hurriedly everywhere.

They are spiders caught in a web, so clueless to have seen the warnings signs earlier. And now they are all doomed.

━━━━━━

A/N;

AHHH!! what a cliffhanger! usually i'd try and follow up a chapter like this with a double update, just to break the tension, but i don't think that will be possible this time. i'm in a new place right now and still adjusting to whatever my new writing routine (and space) is, so updates might be a little more spaced out. also i might need to mentally prepare myself for *certain* events next chapter...

but anyhoo, LOTS of staphne babysitting content for you guys this chapter! again, i'm not sure if this chapter is a little off-kilter at times because of the disruptions in my real life, but hopefully it was alright. i did love that small scene with the lighter in the bus though 🥺 that was a last minute idea which was originally a totally different scene, and honestly it's much more concise and sweeter, so i loved it.

thank you for reading as always, and hope you have a lovely day/evening!

— Imogen

[ Published: November 8th, 2022 ]