SLEEP DIDN'T COME EASY THAT NIGHT. 

After getting Max back in the car, Steve drove them straight back to the Wheeler household. The car was effortlessly silent, but talking felt horribly wrong. The sunset was turning the sky a light pink color, and by the time they got back home, it was night. Carla was glad the day was coming to an end—she was sick of it. 

Robin and Nancy had been there, anxious after Dustin bombarded them during Max's almost death. At Pennhurst, they had discovered that music was the key to getting rid of Vecna—by listening to your favorite song, one could could be connected to the real world. It's why Max had only returned after hearing Kate Bush's voice instead of the panicked calls of her friends. 

Carla doesn't know if she has a favorite song. Perfect. 

From there, the group spread out around the basement and found somewhere to try and fall into slumber. The only fault of the Wheeler basement is that there's only a single couch and rocking chair to rest in, so majority end up hunched and curled in uncomfortable positions. Max gets the couch, even if she's the one who's doing the least amount of sleeping. 

Steve argued over it, but Carla ended up on the floor, head against the rocking chair which she let him sleep in. It's rather uncomfortable, but the Wheeler doesn't plan on sleeping anyways—she knew her boyfriend would, which is why she ends up letting him sit in it. 

Little does she know, Steve was up longer than her. 

His eyes are closed for a good hour, but he finds himself unable to sleep. His mind is plagued with the idea that maybe Carla was next—Vecna had struck on the Mayfield, who'd only been cursed for a few days. Truly, Carla's been cursed for years. Tortured by the Upside Down every year in some shape and form, especially the previous summer. When was Vecna going to end it all for her?

Steve keeps his eyes closed until he hears his girlfriends breath even out below him and when finally opens them, he looks down to see her sleeping—for the first time in forever, it felt like. The Harrington thinks she looks more innocent in slumber. Younger. The pain in her eyes is hidden away. He can still see the bags underneath them though, weighing them down.  The weariness etched into her features. Adding a maturity she doesn't deserve.

He shifts in the rocking chair, still staring down at her. She'd insisted on the floor, leaning her head against the chair he now sat in, and though he'd tried to argue, Carla had won. Typical. She was always selfless, putting him first even when she was the one who needed rest. It's because of this selflessness that he can't sleep.

Steve knows she'll do anything to protect Max. It scares him. 

There's a slight shift from below and the Harrington glances forward to see Nancy sitting upwards, lips pursed nervously, as they always are.

Just like her ex, Nancy finds herself unable to sleep, too. She'd been laying down in front of her sister, but ultimately, she ends up sitting upright and looking ahead at the girl and her boyfriend. Worried, just like Steve. 

In the short time that she'd been with the Harrington, Nancy had gotten to see a side of him Hawkins didn't. His cocky facade sometimes broke around her, and she saw the dorky and attentive boy underneath. The caring one. 

She knows Carla sees more of it than she ever did. Just by the way he's looking at her now, with so much worry in his doe eyes. He cares. 

Nancy makes eye contact with the boy and quietly murmurs, "You know, just because we're exes doesn't mean we can't talk." 

Steve glances over at her, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. He nods, shifting slightly so they won't wake the others. "She... she hasn't been okay, Nance. I can see it."

Nancy's noticed the change in Carla over the past few months, but she hasn't brought it up. She hasn't been with her sister enough to ask her, really. She'd been busying herself with the Hawkins paper and Carla practically lived at the Harrington house now. Nevertheless, she saw. Twin instinct, maybe. 

"As cheesy as it sounds, we don't lie to each other. We've both almost died enough times to be over that kind of shit. But she lied to me about the fact that she's been hurting for the past month—she stopped telling me about the headaches, she acted like she wasn't have nightmares..." Steve quietly sighs, "I don't know."

Nancy nods curtly, "I'm worried too. I know her."

She put herself up for death last year for the sake of protecting her friends. Nancy knows that Carla won't hesitate to put herself up for Vecna for the same reason. 

"Carla's always been good at hiding things. She doesn't want anyone to worry about her. I think she thinks... that if she acts okay, maybe the pain will eventually go away. Like if she pretends it isn't there, it won't be." the Wheeler girl quietly continues, thinking about her sister. 

When she was dating Steve, it was clear Carla still liked him. Yet, she hid her feelings for the sake of Steve and herself. She acted okay thinking that maybe the pain of watching her sister kiss her ex would go away. 

She does it every year. Nancy wishes she didn't. 

 "Yeah, but it's eating her alive. I've never seen her like this, Nancy. And it scares the hell out of me." Steve reasons, glancing back down at the sleeping girl below. "She told me she thought she'd be better off dead. Told me that if it came down to it, I had to save Max over her...."

Steve pauses for a minute, scoffing briefly.

"You know, it's kinda stupid but like....I keep having this dream where I have this giant family. I'm talking like five or six kids." the Harrington boy starts, clips of his reoccurring dream flashing to the front of his mind. Children laughing, a warm breeze in the air, Carla happy. 

Nancy tilts her head, lightly questioning, "Six?" 

"Yeah, six." Steve replies, a sad smile toying on his lips. He could see it all so well. "Every summer we'd all just pack up in an RV and drive. Hit national parks, beaches, wherever else we want to go. See the country." 

Nancy smiles—it was a nice dream. Not to her, by any means. But it was a nice dream nonetheless.

"And she's there." Steve admits about the Wheeler below. "I mean, Carla's it for me. She's my future. I can see us having this whole life together, you know? But with everything going on, it's like that dream is slipping further and further away. I can't help but feel like I'm going to lose her."

The sincerity in his voice is so raw that Nancy feels a pang of sadness—and admiration—for how much Steve loves her sister. She tries to push back the jealousy gnawing her mind over their relationship compared to her own to state,  "She needs to know that. You might think she does, but Carla really doesn't believe people should care for her. Not during these times. She needs to know you want that all with her." 

"Yeah," Steve murmurs, staring at his girlfriend with tenderness. 

He doubts his silly dream will be enough to keep Carla here, but he had to try. 

Carla doesn't even realize she slept until she's rudely awakened by annoying crackling.

Her eyelids flutter open, face slightly scrunching as she adjusts to the sunlight pouring in through the window. 

"Hey, Dustin, this is Eddie the Banished. You there?" 

The Wheeler sits upright, neck rather stiff from the angle in which she'd slept. Her eye narrow in on Dustin's walkie talkie, which sat lying on a nearby table. It's static crackling reverb's off of the hardwood, breaking the silence of the basement. 

 "Dustin, can you hear me?"

She glances at the Henderson boy, who was leaned against the television stand, eyes closed. He clutched his sweatshirt to his chest, which rose and fell in even breaths. Asleep. Carla does a once over of the basement and notices that everyone is still asleep—Steve is curled up above her in the rocking chair, Nancy is laying in front of her, Lucas is somehow leaning over the television, and Robin is hunched over the small table in front of the couch—

"Dustin." Eddie Munson's voice rings through the basement, the Henderson's name dragged through his lips. "Earth to Dustin?"

Knowing that the Munson wouldn't stop bugging them until he's answered, Carla gets onto her feet to answer the walkie, given she was the only one awake. Cautiously, she steps over her sister's sleeping figure and crouches down in front of the table, grabbing the walkie.

"It's Carla." the Wheeler answers, slightly groggily. "Dustin's asleep." 

"Wheeler! Hey! " Eddie exclaims, words slightly muffled due to something occupying the Munson's mouth—food, Carla assumes. "Top of the morning." 

"Yeah, hi." Carla sighs, "Now why are you calling? Did something happen?"

"Um, I'm gonna need a food delivery, like, really soon. Unless you want me going out into the world..."

Carla doesn't think they really have time to stop at the store and get Eddie food, given Max almost died yesterday. But, Eddie couldn't go out. "I'll spread the message to the group. Just stay at Rick's and we'll be there by the end of tomorrow with food. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Eddie rushes, "Listen, um....can you pick me up a six-pack?"

Carla doesn't think buying Eddie a six-pack is the highest thing on a necessity list. "Seriously?"

 "I know, it's stupid as shit, drinking right now, but a cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves." 

"Uh—" the Wheeler is halted from answering his request when she feels her shin gets kicked. Carla looks forward to see her sister sitting upright, eyes slightly widened. She mouths the name 'Max'. 

Carla looks to where the Mayfield had been sitting. A pillow sits on the couch, but the Mayfield doesn't occupy it. 

"Shit." the Wheeler murmurs, glancing around the basement to realize Max is nowhere to be found.

"Is everything okay, Wheeler?" 

"Uh, yeah." Carla lies, hanging up on the Munson. "I have to go though." 

"Wait, am I getting my six-pack or not—"

"We'll call you back." 

Carla hangs up on Eddie without another thought, shutting off the connection of the walkie so Eddie's voice could no longer cut through. As she does so, Nancy scurries off of the floor and over to the snoozing Henderson.

"Dustin!" The small girl chastises, shaking him roughly. "Wake up."

"What?" Dustin's eyes barely open. His head slams against the television, a groan surpassing his lips.

"Aren't you supposed to be on Max watch?"

The Henderson starts wiping his eyes, as if he'd merely been blinking. "Yep. Yep, yep, yep, yep."

"Then where is she?"

"She's right there." Dustin points to the empty couch, brows furrowing when he's met with no sign of the Mayfield. "A second ago. I swear, I just dozed off for...." He looks down at his watch, eyes widening when he sees the time. ".....an hour?" 

Carla wants to smack herself for sleeping. She could have been watching Max. She should have been. 

Nancy guffaws, eyes widening incredulously. Immediately, the smaller girl is on her feet darting for the stairs. Carla is quick to follow, though she tries to think of how they were in a house. The Mayfield wouldn't have left, right? Not when she knew how worried her friends were. And if something had happened, surely they would have heard Karen screaming or Holly crying? Right?

Dustin is on the heels of the Wheeler twins as the three clip up the stairs. They turn the corner, entering the kitchen. Carla smells the sweet aroma of her mother's cooking, and glances to the side to see the curly haired woman whisking something up, tight curls pushed back with a headband. Her dad sits at the island reading the paper.

Sitting at the table is Holly, playing with her Lite Brite. And Max. 

Carla feels her shoulders sink in relief as she see's the redhead coloring, headphones over her ears. Okay.

"Morning, guys!" Karen Wheeler chimes lightly, smiling as she see's her two daughters and the Henderson enter the room. Carla looks back and offers her mom a weak smile, but the woman seems to see through that. She sees the way Carla looks like she could frown, the way Nancy's hands are clenched in anxiety. "Everything okay?" 

Nancy answers, "Yeah. Yeah, everything's okay."

Max looks back at the three teens, offering a tight smile. It's better than nothing.

Karen brushes past the three standing in the hallway and sets two pancakes down onto a plate that is already stacked to the brim with them. Making breakfast like the kids in her house were just there for an easy sleepover instead of grouping together for safety reasons. Because of monsters. 

"I think it's so sweet that you guys are sticking together like this." the Wheeler muses. She doesn't remember the last time she had so many kids in her house—now that Will's moved, the Party seemed to not hang out at her house anymore. There were no D&D games in her basement. Carla practically lived with Steve. Nancy didn't have a boyfriend to bring home.

From under his breath, Ted counters, "Could try sticking together at a different house for a change."

Karen sends her husband a pointed look. Carla ignores her father and heads over for the table where Max and her sister sit. Nancy and Dustin stay near the mother to hear her say, "You know you're welcome here anytime."

"Totally. You're like family." Dustin smiles. He comes up to the counter and points at the pancakes, "May I?"

Karen rings in a sing-song voice, "Absolutely." 

Ted sips his coffee. "Yeah, why not? Take us for all we're worth."

Dustin stays cheeky. "Okay." 

Carla pushes out the conversation behind her and sits down beside Max, eyes scanning over her features. 

Max glances at her before moving her hand to turn off her Walkman, pushing the headphones off of her ears. "Hey," 

"How are you feeling?" the Wheeler leans on the table, propping her head into one of her hands. "Sleep at all?"

"Couldn't." Max shakes her head before— for the first time in what feels like forever—a snarky smile appears on the Mayfield's face as she adds, "People kept blasting music in my ears, for some reason." 

The Wheeler studies the curve of Max's smile. She can almost see the old Max, waiting to come back. The snarky, sarcastic, fiery pain in the ass of a girl who Carla feels like she hasn't seen in years. Who she misses.

"That's odd," the Wheeler offers up a smile of her own.

"I know, right?" the Mayfield continues to play, before glancing over to the blonde kid sitting across from her. "But, Holly let me borrow some of her crayons. We've been having a fun morning, right, Holly?"

"Mhm." Holly hums, without looking away from the Lite Brite. "Hi, Carla."

"Hi, Holls." Carla greets her little sister, before scanning over the sheets of paper that Max has in front of her. Scribbled out in red and black crayons are ruins and structures, trapped in a red world of sorts. 

A red world. 

"What about you?" Max returns. She feels like everyone's protecting her, but no one seems to be asking Carla how she is. If she's having visions, headaches. 

"I don't want to talk about me." the Wheeler replies curtly, eyes stuck on the Mayfield's drawings. She's seen the red world before, in her head. "Is this...is this what you saw when he...."

"I mean, it's supposed to be." Max shrugs, voice lowering. "I thought it'd be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but.....not so much." 

"I've seen this." Carla's fingers trail over the paper, eyes catching on one drawing that held bodies hanging off of giant red vines. Eyes gaunt, mouth dropped hollowly. She's seen Chrissy like this. "In my nightmares or visions. Whatever you want to call them." 

Max nods. "There was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream.....

Carla cuts her off. "A nightmare." 

Nancy sits down in one of the other chairs, having been listening to the conversation. She glances at both her sister and the Mayfield. "Do you think Vecna's just trying to scare you?"

"That's the point of these visions. He's trying to get us scared, at his mercy, almost." Carla answers, voice tight. She doesn't want to admit that she's had real visions. She hopes Holly isn't fully listening, too.

Max nods along, "When Vecna had me, I saw Billy. That was his attempt at scaring me. But when I made it here...." the redhead gestures to the drawings of the red world. "I don't know, something was different. He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn't want me there."

Dustin—who'd sat down to listen in as well—leans forward, "Maybe you infiltrated his mind. He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?" Nancy seems weary, but Carla doesn't argue. It's not too far, really. "Like Freddie Krueger's boiler room."                                                              

Holly looks up from her Lite Brite. "Freddie Krueger?" 

"He's a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers. And he kills you in his dreams—"

"Seriously?" Carla can see Nancy's eyes widening and Holly's looks of fear and decides to intervene before the Henderson gave her sister nightmares. She sends the curly haired boy a pointed expression before turning to her little sister with a weak smile. "Holly, go back to your Lite Brite. It's just a movie." 

"It's not real." Dustin reassures weakly to the younger girl, who slowly continues to play with her Lite Brite. He turns back to his friends and continues, "Just....think about it. What if you somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna's world. Like, maybe the answer we're looking for is—" he files through the artwork and picks up one of them, "—somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing. God, we need Will."

Carla is reminded of when she watched Will draw out his visions of the Mind Flayer, when she helped Hopper and Joyce tape them all together throughout the Byers home. Dustin's right—it would be easier if they had Will. If they had Joyce, Eleven, Mike, and Jonathan, too. 

"Yeah, no shit." Max scoffs before admitting, "But, I tried them again this morning and it's the same busy signal."

The Wheeler offers, "It was Will's birthday the other day. They might be out."

Nancy interrupts the conversation about the Byers family, snatching the paper that Dustin was holding. Her doe eyes widened in a sudden realization. "Is this a widow?"

The Mayfield nods. "Yeah."

"Stained glass with roses."

"Yeah," Max curtly nods again, before snapping at the Henderson, "Maybe I'm not so terrible after all."

Dustin chews on a pancake, scowling at her with an 'Are you really?' look.

Nancy's clearly not talking about how good Max's art skills are. Her eyes scan through the entirety of the drawings, mind working a thousand miles a minute. "Yeah, well, it helps that I've seen it before." 

"Nancy, what do you mean?" Carla knows she's seen it because of her nightmares, but why did her sister know? 

The Wheeler girl doesn't answer, instead frantically folding each sheet of paper. Her pink nails pierce each drawing, putting them together determinedly. Each red sheet gets pieced together until they create some giant image—the same way all of Will's drawings created a map of Hawkins, leading the group to the hive mind. 

Nancy grabs a sharpie and connects all the edges. Carla's eyes narrow even further.

"It's pieces of a house." Max states, looking at what the Wheeler was tracing out. She drew out windows and connected scaffolding and walls. 

Maybe it's because she's the elder compared to Max and Dustin, but Carla is quick to realize what house Nancy is tracing out. She's heard all the tales, driven past it on multiple accounts. She saw it in the library. She knows that house.

"That's the Creel house." Carla breathes as Nancy sets down the stained glass rose door to the front of the house, finishing it off. Max and Dustin look confused and the Wheeler evaluates, "That's Victor Creel's house. The guy that Nancy and Robin went to Pennhurst for yesterday. He's the only 'survivor' of Vecna." She gets out of her seat, looking at her sister. "Vecna is leading us to his survivor's house."

Dustin furrows his brows as he sees the sisters getting up, "Where are you going?"

Carla runs for the basement. "Waking the others." 

They had another lead.

Not even an hour later did the group find themselves at the Creel residence.

Cramped into the Wheeler's car for more room—Steve's BMW had done them good the past few days, but it was already a squeeze with five people—Nancy drove them all to the Creel residence. Robin called passenger, which left Carla and Lucas in the middle row with Max, the redhead sitting with her headphones in for the entirety of the ride. Steve begged his ass off to sit with his girlfriend but Dustin dragged him to sit hunched over and cramped in the back. A tight squeeze, but it worked.

Nancy halts the car in front of the Creel residence, the group unpacking themselves. Doors slam and feet slap against pavement. Carla steps forward, eyes trailing up to see the full extent of the eerie home. A home that had a horrible reputation—and for good reason. 

Ever since she was little, the Wheeler girl had been told tales of the Creel house, despite the home being abandoned years prior to her birth. It was the horror house—every child was warned of the terror it's past held. Warned how the walls were painted with the blood of three. How the screams of the children and wife who were slaughtered echoed in each room. How it was haunted, abandoned and left for no one but the ghosts of the perfect family that once inhabited it.

Everyone walked past it with a little more speed. Skipped it entirely on Halloween. No investor has dared tried to sell it—how could you make such a house sound appealing? The stories were too far invested in Hawkins' mind for anyone to want to purchase it. 

So for the last fifty years, it's sat on the same street. All houses around it have been rebuilt, repainted, retouched, but the Creel house still stood with the same 1940's navy blue paint. Rotting.

Even now, knowing that Victor Creel might not have killed his family, Carla still feels an uncanny vibe running through her. She's breaking a superstition it feels, doing so. No one should be this close to the Creel home. 

It's a two story house, and Carla's sure that when the Creel family lived there, it was beautiful. All of the windows have been boarded up with rotting wood, nails rusty and some fallen out. Navy blue paint clings to the dulled exterior, chipped in multiple different places. All the white shingles and siding has been browned with age and decay. The grass is mattered and unkept—no one wanted to take care of it. Vines and different overgrown plants fill the cracked concrete stairs, all dead and dry. Everything is cracked and worn with age. Unkempt and rotten. 

Just the place they all want to be. 

"Yeah, that's not creepy." Steve draws sarcastically, eyes staring hard at the house. 

In silence, the seven teens tread up the cracked stairs and towards the front deck. Nancy hands Steve a hammer and the two start to rip the nails out wood that boarded the front door closed. Nails clink against the floor and the wood groans and creaks as the steel items are yanked out.

Carla leans against one of the pillars, arms crossed as she watches her boyfriend and her sister work. The house still gave her an unsure feeling, as much as the stories were nothing more than superstition.

"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shit hole?" Steve asks, glancing across from him to his ex.

"We're not sure." Nancy shrugs, readjusting the position of the hammer in her hands. She spares the Harrington a look back as she adds, "We just know this house is important to Vecna."

"Because Max saw it in Vecna's red soup mind world?" 

"Basically."

"Great." 

"I mean Victor Creel lived here and to some degree he supposedly survived Vecna. Or he was like Eddie. Either way, he is the sole survivor that we know of." Carla pipes up. "Best case scenario, we find something else we didn't already know. Something about Vecna." 

"Maybe a clue to where he is; why he's back; why he killed the Creels." Dustin nods along, agreeing that this house more than likely held some sort of clue. "And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or comes for Carla." 

The Mind Flayer used an abandoned steel mill for his layer. Who said Vecna wasn't using this very house, or something casual like it? 

Lucas seems to realize that thought that the group is having, because quickly he denies the idea with, "We don't think he's in here.....do we?" 

Max watches as Steve and Nancy get the last nails off the door, "Guess we'll find out."

Steve positions his fingers in the door and nods to the Wheeler, "Ready?"

Nancy's pink nails flare against the dull wood. "Mhm."

"Baby, step back." the Harrington spares a glance at his girlfriend.

Carla does as she's asked, stepping away from the pillar that could be hit by the door. She moves up to stand next to her boyfriend. Nancy and Steve both let go of the giant wood panel, stepping back as it goes falling to the floor, the slam reverbing through the air. The Wheeler flinches at the thud, as expected as the loud sound was.

Behind the wood paneling lies the door that Nancy had pieced together with Max's drawings. The glass is heavily faded and dusty with age, but the rose still stands out. 

Steve steps forward, putting his hand on the doorknob. He rattles it a few times before concluding, "It's locked."

Carla's not surprised, given the house has been abandoned for decades. But she can't help but frown anyways. 

 The Harrington manages a light joke, "Should I knock, see if anybody's home?"

"No need." Robin's voice cuts through. Having paid no mind to her, no one in the group notices how she's walked off until they look back, watching as she holds up a brick. Everyone blinks at it. The Buckley shrugs. "I found a key."

Carla furrows her brows, "Can you throw?" 

"Not really." Robin steps past the three younger teens to meet the two Wheeler's and the Harrington on the small deck. With a grunt, she throws the brick directly for the stained glass window. Glass shatters at the impact. There's a thud from inside, signaling the brick's collapse. A circular hole is left over.

Steve glances at his best friend before stepping forward, cautiously looking through the hole Robin had created. He slides his hand inside, feeling around for a few moments before he manages to find the door handle. With a click, the door unlocks.

It creaks obnoxiously as the brunette boy opens it. A whistle leaves his lips as he steps through the threshold to examine.

Carla follows after him, eyes scanning the interior of the rotting home. The light from the doorway is the only thing lighting the dimly lit house. Dust floats around every crevice. The Wheeler can barely make anything out with the naked eye.

Everyone files in one by one, eyes engulfing the house. The Henderson passes a flashlight to Carla, who takes it without question—eight flashlights had to be the most normal thing the Henderson kept in his bag on a daily basis. 

Lucas tries the lamp that sits near the doorway as Steve closes the door, dimming the house once more. "Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill."

Carla clicked on her flashlight to provide light. One at a time, the rest of the group follows suit, click echoing through the small room as everyone turned on their flashlights. Everyone except Steve. 

Steve's eyes flicker from flashlight to flashlight, brows furrowed. "Where'd everyone get those?"

"Do you need to be told everything?" Dustin counters, eyes narrowed into slits and voice filtered with annoyance. "You're not a child."

Scratch the idea of Steve having kids because he does not want a teenager like Dustin Henderson. He blinks, fed up with the curly haired boys attitude. "Thank you."

Suppressing an eye roll, Dustin shrugs off his backpack and shoves it into Steve's chest, "Back pocket."

The Henderson boy is being a pain in the ass, but Carla can't help but slightly smile. Steve makes eye contact with her, shaking his head in disbelief at the boy's words. She smiles further and he loses his annoyance.

Steve drops the bag on the floor and grabs a hold of his girlfriend's free hand, non-verbally instructing that she stay with him. Nancy and Robin depart to a nearby room, shining their flashlights into it. The Harrington heads for the stairs, Carla right behind him.

However, the Wheeler doesn't get too far until her eyes get caught on a grandfather clock standing diagonal to her. Ominous. 

Her knuckles tighten around the railing and she closes her eyes briefly, refocusing. Her lips stay sealed. 

Max is the one who speaks up. 

"Hey, guys?" Nerves are evident in the younger girl's voice, and the group all looks down to see her standing in front of the clock, flashlight aimed at it. "You all see that right?"

"Yeah." Dustin immediately replies.

Steve starts walking back towards the group, light pointed at the clock. "Yeah."

Carla feels a little better knowing that the clock wasn't something of a vision. Then again, she wasn't going to bring up seeing it at all. Max is better than her for that. 

"Is this what you saw?" Nancy asks, cautious. "In your visions?"

The Wheeler decides to speak up quietly, "It's what we saw in the school. Yeah." 

"I mean, it's.....just a clock. Right?" Robin tries to lower the concern and suspicion lingering in her friends, stepping forward to wipe dust away from the clock's aged face and creating a translucent patch. "Like a normal old clock."

"Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?" Steve inquires, brows furrowed together as his mind wracked for an answer to his own question. "Maybe he's, like, a clock-maker or something?" 

Dustin turns to the older boy with disbelief, jaw ticking with sarcasm. "I think you cracked the case, Steve."

Steve sends Dustin an unimpressed look. Nancy returns the focus. "All I know is....the answers are here. Somewhere." The smaller Wheeler starts backing up, a determined expression on her face. "Okay, everyone stay in groups. Two of two, one of three." She wiggles a finger to urge two of the teens over. "Robin, Carla, upstairs."

Robin salutes the Wheeler with two fingers. Carla lets go of her boyfriends hand to follow after her sister and friend. She can hear Steve scoff, clearly displeased with not getting to work with Carla. 

The three disperse upstairs. Max grabs onto Lucas' jacket and tugs him down the hall. Dustin looks up to Steve with a shit-eating grin. 

"Do you want me to hold your hand and act like Carla?"

"Shut the hell up, Henderson."

Already halfway up the stairs, Carla moves her flashlight back and forth, scanning over the designs in the railing and the walls. Nancy leads the way, sending Robin and her sister into other rooms, instructing they investigate.

The Wheeler isn't exactly what room she ends up in, but furniture still lays within. Even after decades, no one wanted to clear out the place. Every thing the Creel family once owned laid untouched, just as it was. Bedspreads unmade, shoes kicked off. It makes the house more creepy, in Carla's opinion. She'd rather see an eerily clean house than one that was left as it had been.

Carla wanders through the room, her steps cautious as if expecting something to leap out from the shadows. The air is thick with dust, the faded smell of old wood and stale air creeping into her senses. She looks around, taking in the abandoned and aged furniture and decor. There's something deeply unsettling about it all—like she's trespassing in a moment frozen in time.

Her flashlight shines over the exterior, and her eyes drift to an old wooden box shoved under a low table. Curiosity gets the better of her, and she moves over, crouching down to pull it out and brush off a thick layer of dust from the lid. 

Flipping open the lid reveals a stack of black and white photographs. As wrong as it feels, the Wheeler files through them, propping her flashlight up so she can see what each image shows.

A mother and a baby. A toddler and a baby. A little boy playing. A young woman with a perfect smile. A young girl playing in the yard Carla had just been standing in. And, at the bottom, a photo of four. Of the family. 

Victor Creel holds a hat in front of his shirt, smiling proudly in front of the rose stained glass door. Next to him, his wife, Virginia; her hair is permed and she clutches a small white bag—Carla's almost reminded of her own mother. Next to Victor is a younger girl, twelve at the oldest. A sweet little thing— Alice. 

On the right side of the photograph is a boy—Henry. Unlike the rest of his family, he's not smiling. In fact, he's merely looking dead the camera with a stare that pierces. There's something hauntingly familiar in his stare, something that resonates in the pit of her stomach. Despite never having met this child, Carla's seen his stare before. In the man at the library. In Billy.

In Vecna.

She's unable to do anything further with the photo before the shattering of glass takes her attention away.

It's abrupt, too abrupt. Curious and concerned, Carla is quickly on her feet to check on what the sound was, discarding the photo back onto the floor. She pads out of the room, flinching backwards as she almost rams into her boyfriend's scrambling figure.

Feet working overtime, Steve is flying backwards out of the next room, clearly panicking. His arms fly all over like he were crazy. 

"Shit." Carla is quick to fret, brows furrowing at his behavior. He could have seen something. Her hands outstretch to try and ground him, or at least stop his erratic movements. "Babe, babe—Steve, hey!" He whips around, eyes wide as his girlfriend's voice registers in his mind. "Relax. It's me."

His chest still rises and falls as if he'd run a marathon, but staring at Carla, Steve seems to relax slightly. Tension radiates off of his figure, but his shoulders slump slightly as he tries to catch his breath. Still, he brings a hand up to erratically wipe off something from his jacket, though by doing a once over the Wheeler doesn't see anything. 

"What happened?" Carla asks, brows still furrowed.

"There was a spider. It's a black widow." Steve pants, continuing to pat himself down as if making sure the creature wasn't still crawling up his figure. He quickly moves to grab ahold of the door handle, closing away the room he'd occupied before shaking his head at Carla. "Don't go in there."

"Yeah, okay." Carla nods, deciding it was best not to comment on anything. Steve turns his head to the side and the Wheeler has to stifle a smile as she notices the spider webs tangled up in his hair. "Hold on, you have—"

"Have what?" the Harrington does not indeed 'hold on', instead treading towards the mirror hanging on the wall with urgency. His hands card through his hair, eyes searching for whatever his girlfriend had meant. "Carla, what is it?"

Carla rolls her eyes at his urgency and comes up behind him, fingers gently combing through his hair—as they always did. However, instead of in show of affection, the Wheeler nimbly picks out the thin strands of spider web caught on his locks.

Flicking a strand to the ground, a smile rests on her face as she murmurs, "You have a little souvenir."

"If there's a spider nesting in there, you're never gonna find it till it lays eggs and all the babies spill out." Robin appears from around the corner, amused grin on her face. Nancy can't even hide the light smile at her teasing as she follows after. 

 "What's wrong with you?" Steve's face immediately falls, having not found anything Robin said funny in the slightest. The Buckley chuckles, grin growing more shit-eating as she passes by. Steve's eyes narrow sternly. "Robin, seriously." 

Carla rolls her eyes at her friend as she discards another spider web, though she can't hide the amusement that threatens to grow on her face. 

"She's got problems." Steve mutters once the Buckley leaves earshot, feeling even worse now that she's put the idea of baby spiders weaving through his hair into his head. "Now I'm going to be feeling things crawling on me regardless."

"Well, just in case she's right..." Carla drags on, voice gentle as her fingers continue to work. "I'm not sleeping with you for the next week." 

"Carla, seriously?" the Harrington's scowls, unamused with the fact that his girlfriend was playing into Robin's words. The Wheeler replies with an amused sound, and he continues, "Robin is rubbing off on you in the wrong ways." 

Carla hums, "You said that last summer."

"Well I mean it now." 

The Wheeler drops her hands, discarding the last of webs onto the floor and wiping her hands onto her pants to remove anymore from her skin. She steps back, "All done."

"Great. Thanks." Steve moves back to the mirror, checking himself over briefly. He runs a hand through his hair, almost double checking that she'd gotten all the web off. A rueful sigh escapes his lips as he does, "God, this place is messing with me."

"Tell me about it." Carla replies, glancing back toward the room she'd left. Henry Creel's eyes still stay in the front of her mind. "There was a picture in the other room. Of the family who used to live here."

Steve nods, "The Creels, yeah." 

"I don't know. They looked like a happy family before it all happened." 

At the mention of a family, the Harrington thinks about what Nancy told him. That he should say something to Carla about what he wants with her, to give her the motivation she so desperately needs to keep fighting. For a moment, the words form in his mind and dance just on the edge of his tongue. 

But, all he manages to spit out is, "Yeah. They did." 

He can't even try to regain himself when they're ushered down by Max and Lucas.

Nancy and Robin pop out from where they'd been searching a few rooms over and descend down the stairs, Dustin doing the same. Carla follows them without another word, and Steve has no choice but to do so too.

It's grown darker, little light provided in the front area of the house. However, it wasn't much of an issue, because the moment Carla makes it downstairs, she's met with the chandelier above flickering on and off. On and off. 

There was no power in this house. And flickering lights only meant one thing. 

Carla feels herself tense slightly. The seven teens all group around the dust covered chandelier, similar thoughts in mind. For a moment, all they can do is stare, realization pooling in their stomachs. Their flashlights all point downwards. An electric hum vibrates through the room, light-bulbs working overtime. 

"It's like the Christmas lights." Nancy whispers, eyes locked on the light above, which continued to dim and brighten profusely. 

Being the newest addition to the Upside Down related things, Robin hasn't heard the story of Joyce's Christmas lights. Brows furrowed, she leans in towards Nancy, "The Christmas lights?" 

"When Will was in the Upside Down, Joyce hung up Christmas lights. Whenever he was there, the lights would come to life." Subconsciously, Carla brings a hand up to rub the scars over her wrists. In the back of her mind, she can still see the flickering lights overhead as the Demogorgan pinned her to the wall. "It's the same for when an Upside Down creature is near." 

Lucas connects the obvious dots. "Vecna's here, in this house. Just on the other side."

As the Sinclair finishes his sentence, a final buzz comes from the chandelier before the lights dim fully. Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the flickering to continue but it doesn't start back up again.

Robin blinks. "I think he just left the room."

Max's eyes dart around, nerves slightly growing. "Did he hear us?"

"Can he see us?" Steve adds, slightly tensing at the thought of Vecna seeing them in his home base. Seeing Max. Seeing Carla. 

Lucas locks eyes on his ex, "Headphones."

Max is quick to throw her headphones on over her ears, thumb jabbing the 'play' button on her Walkman. 

"Wait, wait." Nancy protects, turning her flashlight off. "Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out."

Carla tries to see where her sister is going as she listens, flicking off the light. The rest of the group all do the same, clicks coming from each flashlight to signal it's off status. Dimness engulfs the room, leaving everyone covered in shadow. It's hard to see anything.

"Well, we're not gonna be able to see if we turn off our flash...." Steve starts to argue, but his point is made to deaf ears as everyone but Carla starts to exit the room, following Nancy's words and spreading out. ".....lights."

The Wheeler takes her boyfriends hand in her free one, tugging him along. "You know Nance. She has a reason."

"Jesus Christ."  

The couple cautiously pads up the stairs again, doing their best to see without flashlights. Neither was sure exactly of what they were searching for, other than a blinking light of some kind, but Carla trusted that her sister sure did, so she didn't hesitate in her steps. She just led Steve in and out of different rooms, waiting for something. 

"I got him!" Robin's voice breaks through the tense silence of searching, "Got him!"

Her voice is from downstairs, near and loud. Carla and Steve run back down the stairs, falling into line with Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Nancy. All eyes are locked on Robin's flashlight, which shines brightly upwards towards the sky—it's status is off, showing that it was Vecna's doing rather than a batteries. 

"I got him!"

However, right as the three teens manage to catch sight of the glowing light, it flickers off. As if Vecna was messing with them for a second before leaving them dry.

Robin pulls her light down, "I....I had him." 

Steve's flashlight suddenly glows brightly, the Harrington lightly flinching at the sudden action. 
"Oh—whoa." His hand hovers over the light, as if it's going to jump out.

The light dims out again and Carla's flashlight jolts alive next, an electric hum stirring against her clenched hand. The Wheeler holds up her light, the group all looking at her—Steve looks ready to take her flashlight and hold it himself. 

The light flickers, almost telling them to move forward. Cautiously, Carla does so and the light flickers again. Another step. Another flicker. 

"I think he's moving." Steve concludes, walking right behind his girlfriend. Carla continues to give in to the wants of the flashlight and the Harrington urges the other to follow after her. "He's moving! He's moving!"

Carla leads the group forward, following Vecna with her flashlight. Lips sealed, she clenches the light source and steps after the pulsing light, which grows stronger or dimmer depending on where it wanted her to go. 

Passing the clock, the group ended up running right back upstairs. The light pulses stronger than ever as Carla makes it to the first landing, but it dies out just as fast. Her brows furrow—did Vecna not want them to follow him? Want her to follow?

"Shit," Steve murmurs, "We lost him."

"No, we didn't." Max cuts in, brushing past everyone to come to the front of the group. Headphones still covering her ears, she opens a door to the side of them. Instead of being met with a dark room like the rest of the house, the room glows with a flickering yellow light. Vecna. 

The Mayfield climbs into the room without another word. Carla feels an urge to follow right behind her. The rest of the group filters in after one another, the flickering illuminating their faces as they pass inside. 

"It's an attic." Robin comments, weary. "Of course it's an attic."

Dustin strays at the back of the line, hesitant. "Hold up, guys. What if he's leading us into a trap?" No one answers. "Guys? Guys—shit! Shit, shit, shit shit—"

Carla doesn't listen to anything that leaves the Henderson's lips, trudging up stair after stair. It gets steeper the higher they go, but after a decent flight, the Wheeler enters the real attic. There's boxes set up everywhere, but the girl keeps her eyes locked on the singular light bulb that glows from the ceiling.

"Vecna," the Wheeler murmurs under her breath, crossing over to the bulb. When she steps towards it, its glow grows stronger. Her flashlight beams to light with a blinding glow. 

Steve is next; then Max, Robin, Nancy, and Lucas. Eventually Dustin. As each member of the group crowds around the light bulb, it shines more violently and triggers their flashlights to glow too. While light fills the entire attic as the group forms a circle. The electric humming is more of a firm vibration echoing through the room. Carla's flashlight burns in her hand, working overtime to grow more bright than it can.

There's a faint pounding on the side of the Wheeler's skull, growing harder with each thrum of the light bulb. 

Crack. 

Carla feels shards of glass hit her figure before she can even react. Flinching back, the Wheeler's eyes squeeze shut as her flashlight explodes right in her hands

Crack. 

Steve's flinching next, glass shards flying towards him and the Wheeler and Buckley who stand at his sides.

One by one, the flashlights all explode, yelps and sounds of surprise leaving the lips of the group.

 However, Carla doesn't see flashlights exploding with each sound. Her head pounds hard. Images flash through her mind at each crack. Patrick McKinney—basketball team member—hangs in the air, floating. Just like Chrissy. 

Crack. Robin yelps. Patrick's leg goes sideways. 

Crack. Nancy flinches. His other leg goes. 

Crack. Lucas throws an arm up. An elbow snaps backwards. 

Crack. Max screams. The other arm bends wrongly in the other direction. 

Crack. Dustin's head goes flying away from the flying glass. Patrick's jaw shifts all the way to the side. 

Carla's breath catches as each brutal image rips through her mind. It's as if she's there with him, forced to witness every sickening twist and break of Patrick's body. Shaking hands fly to her temples, pressing hard as if she could block out the horrifying visions. Her broken flashlight clatters to the ground.

The light bulb in the center that had lured them in shatters—Crack.  Patrick's eyes disappear right from his skull, sucked away. His body flies straight down.

Another one is dead. Vecna killed someone else. Dead. 

 Carla is returned to the sight in front of her, a sharp gasp falling from her lips. Her knees give out, and she catches herself just in time, breathing shallow and ragged. There's a pool of red spilling from her nose. 

What the fuck.

The attic is pitch black without flashlights, but the group manages to all look at Carla at her sudden reaction and stumble. Steve scans over her face, immediately stepping forward as he realizes how petrified she seems. Her hands are shaking, her eyes seem empty yet full of fear at the same time, a trail of blood runs from her nostril to her lips.

"Hey, hey, hey—what happened?" the Harrington doesn't have to ask to know that this has something to do with Vecna. 

She blinks, desperate to ground herself, and the attic slowly sharpens into focus again—the shattered bulb, the startled faces of her friends, Steve standing right in front of her.

Max steps forward, a look of knowing on her face. "What did you see, Carla?"

Carla is unable to find the words. She's not sure how Eddie found the heart to tell them what he witnessed because God was it horrible. The cracking of bone and tendon. The squish of muscle's being torn and veins being popped. The bent joints, twisted in unnatural manners. The way the eyes just disappeared, flushed away. It was horrifying. 

She just stares at Max. 

The Mayfield understands immediately. "Someone else is dead." 

mara's misc! 

happy stranger things day!

originally, i was gonna update this on halloween/november 1st for a little spooky treat but then i remembered that it's literally stranger things day soon so here you go! 

no words can express what this show means to me. as cringey as it's become to be a stranger things fan, and as much as the fandom has died down waiting for st5, this show will always mean something to me. i'm not an og fan by any means (i joined a good year or so before st4 dropped) but that doesn't mean this show is any less meaningful. the little girl who was excitedly watching the first three seasons will be the same girl crying over the st5 finale. forever and always one of my favorite shows.

without st i probably wouldn't even be on wattpad like i am. missing was my first real book and i'm forever thankful for all the wonderful people i've met via it (GhostWriterGirl-1 we would have probably never met if not for carla & steve and that is bonkers to me)

so so happy we got an official 2025 release date today. thank GOD.

i'm not going to comment on the election. as someone who isn't old enough to vote, it truly isn't my place to speak. i have my opinions and i'm sure they align with majority of everyone else's on this app. i want rights for everyone but at the end of the day, it isn't my decision. i'm not going to dig myself down a hole when i wasn't even able to vote.

but obx4pt2 tomorrow??? i'm actually so excited it's not fucking funny. i have not written for my obx book in a hot second so i'm hoping that the end of s4 brings some inspo to me. if so, i have pre-written about 3ish chapters for this book. don't worry ya'll will NOT be forgotten about for the 38473829 time :)

hope you enjoyed <3 see you back with chapter 12!!