Beverly, Ben, and Eddie did not quite know or care how they were still alive. Following Beverly's demands to let the two of them go in exchange for her life, they'd been fully expecting Pennywise to fucking slit their throats and feast on their flesh, but he hadn't.

Something…the tiniest flicker of…humanity, seemed to spark in the creature's gray eyes, and he'd given them thirty minutes to make their peace they'd never see each other again. When Bev gave a tiny moan in his arms, he stared, hardly daring to believe it. Ben stared, hardly daring to believe it. He was shell-shocked at the turn of events that had taken. Pennywise the fucking Dancing Clown was gone. For now. But he would be back soon.

His gaze landed on the Bev, whose strength had since faded, limp and unresponsive, and would have fallen had Ben not rushed to catch her in his strong arms. "Here," Eddie said suddenly, albeit rather shakily, his arms outstretched. "Relax, everyone just...relax. Woosa," he said worriedly, putting emphasis on the words. When Bev and Ben stared, wide-eyed and confused, Eddie felt his cheeks redden. "I-it's what Myra tells me to do. My...exercises. You know what, forget it," he grumbled darkly, irritably brushing away his comment with a wave of his hand. "I think I know how to fix her."

"Eds, please tell me you have something in that damned black fanny pack of yours."

Eddie gave a nervous little laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were nervously darting back and forth.

Eddie fumbled in his fanny pack, grumbling a few choice curses under his breath as he hastily pulled out a tiny bottle of disinfectant and bandages. "R—remember the pharmacy?"

Ben found himself smiling in spite the worry he felt for their predicament. "How could I forget?" He lifted his plaid shirt, at the pink scar with the jagged edges, the initial B carved in his gut. "Henry fucking Bowers, man. I—if it weren't for you guys…I probably would have died. You patched me up, Dr. K."

"You're goddamn right I did. I—I can do it again, I think," he mumbled, gingerly lifting Bev's pale hand in his own. "I don't think I can do much where he…where she got stabbed, b—but I can at least bandage her hand. Damn," he muttered through gritted teeth. "The son of a bitch that did that to her, I hope they rot," he growled, gesturing towards her side, where crimson blood had already stained her dress. I'm going to have to…do this quick," he explained weakly, cringing at the growing look of outrage and fear in Ben's eyes. "Given the fucking clown might come back at any moment," here the fear crept back into Eddie's voice, "I—I'm gonna have to hurry, Ben. This is going to hurt her, so hold her down."

"We—we gotta take her to a hospital, Eds," Ben moaned, trying not to panic.

"No time. You're just going to have to trust me on this. Here, set her down."

Ben gently laid Beverly down, his gaze darting back and forth between Marsh's unconscious form and Eddie, who had pulled out some kind of rubbing alcohol from his fanny pack. He sighed, running his hands through his thick hair. "Hold her down," he warned, shooting both Ben a dark look. "I don't know if she'll be able to feel this, but I don't want to take any chances."

Ben nodded, though his facial muscles had gone tense and the color in his face was slowly draining. He gave a curt nod of his head to Eddie, who held Beverly down as he uncorked the bottle and poured it over her arm.

In Beverly's intense silence thanks to her pains her ability to speak to almost nothing, she somehow screamed with her whole body as the alcohol in the solution burned out of her arm. Her blue eyes wide with horror, still white and blind, her mouth rigid and open, her chalky white face gaunt and immobile, her fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of her hand, hard enough to pierce her skin and bleed.

"Hurry the fuck up, Eddie! You're killing her!" Ben screamed, feeling his panic swell to the surface as she thrashed in his arms. "Get it out!"

"Almost—got it—just one more! There!" panted Eddie, hurriedly wrapping Beverly's hand with thick gauze. "Sh—she can't move around too much. She's lost a lot of blood."

Bev gave one final twitch and went limp, her head resting against Ben's chest. Ben, though he desperately wanted to stay with Beverly, knew her place was not here, far away from the Neibolt House, safe from what he was about to do.

"Eddie, get Beverly out of here. Take her back to your place. I don't care what you have to tell your mom but make up some story. T—tell her we got mugged, a—and your arm is broken too, and she'll take you both to the hospital. I'm gonna go kill this fucking clown.

Eddie nodded, taking Beverly in his arms, but not before Ben reached down and gave Bev a gentle kiss. "I'm going to save you, Beverly, I promise. Trust me?" he whispered, though he knew she could not hear him. Ben thought it was his imagination, but he could have sworn Beverly answered him back.

"Until the world ends, Hanscom, remember?" Bev smiled weakly, her eyelids fluttering open, and she opened her mouth to say something else, but at that moment, the sound of dripping water intensified, along with It's soft susurrations, his footsteps. "No…" she whispered, tears welling up.

"Oh, yes," grinned Pennywise, sounding utterly delighted. "Time's up, Bevvy. Deal's a deal. You promised." He stuck out his bottom lip in a slight pout, folding his arms across his chest. He was, Ben thought, surprisingly normal, having gotten rid of the stupid clown makeup and jumpsuit. He didn't know who he was pretending to be with this human facade, but he could tell just by one look into Beverly's blue eyes that she wasn't falling for it at all.

Before she could open her mouth to protest however, Pennywise grabbed her by her arm and yanked her forward violently, leaving Ben alone to deal with the guy from earlier. "Ben!" she screamed hoarsely.

Ben let out a guttural growl and bolted towards their retreating form, but a shadow loomed in front. Ben swallowed nervously and lifted his chin to gaze up at the man Eddie had been fighting when they'd found him trapped down here.

Tom's ghost was tormenting Ben. It had not left him alone since it had first dared to reveal itself to Eddie, and for just a split second, Ben wondered if this was how he died, and if, if this really was Tom, if he had shown himself to Beverly yet, wherever she was in this house. Ben was lost, wandering the upstairs hallways, just when he thought he would find the staircase, another hallway would seem to appear, never ending and a labyrinth.

Almost as if the house is moving, his mind offered.

"No, no, no, that's dumb!" he growled to no one, as he dragged his hand along the ripped wallpaper, searching for a way out, back to Beverly. "I'm going to find Bev and then we're going to get the hell out of here and go somewhere else, like we planned, and we might just stay there, I don't think we'll come back after all this!"

Ben, after what felt like an hour, though it was only a few minutes at best, finally found his way out of the sewer hallway and back up towards the basement. The basement was pitch black; he was as blind as if his eyes had been gouged out. His body washed cold. He brought his fingers up to his eye sockets; they were still there, thank fuck. His arms and legs became once again under his control and he ran about the room searching for an exit.

There was a trap door he hadn't seen before. The bolt slid back as if it were only installed the day before, and he ran downwards, almost falling in his hurry to escape that he didn't see the figure in front of him as he barreled over them, topping the person off the last step and to the ground with a loud thump, louder than either one of them would have liked. "What the hell?" he moaned, groaning as he blearily opened his eyes to see whom he had knocked over. "Oh, no, oh crap," he groaned.

In his haste to get away from Tom Rogan, he had knocked over Eddie in the process. "Eds, you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Y-yeah, I'm good," grumbled Eddie, though he did not look it. His eyes nervously darted back and forth, searching for a way out.

"What's wrong with this goddamn house?" Ben asked after a long silence, just to keep conversation flowing. After several hours alone and separated from everyone, he was starting to wonder if he would ever talk to a live human again. "How long have you been down here, Eds?"

"Few hours," he whispered, still not wanting to meet Ben's gaze as Eddie led him down the dark hallway, towards where Pennywise had taken Beverly. "There's something wrong with this house, you know, case you hadn't figured it out already, Hanscom," Eddie stated, almost matter-of-factually as he looked towards Ben. "Haunted. It's doing it, I think."

Ben opened his mouth and then shut it again. He was aware he must look like a fish in doing this, but he could not help it. He had never even once entertained the idea that the house might be haunted, such a concept was only for the scary stories and the Hollywood movies. Nevertheless, even he had to admit, along with Beverly, there were certain events of the night that he could not explain. Such as It waking up from its slumber twenty years early

He opened his mouth to speak, but Eddie stopped him, raising his finger to his lips and pointing to a door, where a light could be seen coming from the other side.

Someone else was down here. "Over there," Kaspbrak mouthed. Go.

Ben snuck forward stealthily, careful to mind his steps, praying to God with all his might that none of the floorboards creaked and gave away his position. Once he was close enough to the door, he fell silent and listened. A man's voice, Pennywise's, was speaking to Beverly's voice in almost quiet, serious tones.

"I hide here, in this place. I lurk...under the veil...of black. Mist... lingers… it conceals my dark desire...while I wait. I wait for years, pet. And now...here, you here, Bevvy. At last, my hunger lessens...but my desire… grows. I crave...for more. As I depart...I leave a reckless soul...to find...yet...another."

Beverly said something inaudible. She was talking to him, saying something in low voices he could not quite make out. However, it was clear by the distress in her voice that she was in trouble. "Hang on, Bev," he whispered. "Just let me think for a second. Plan, plan, I need a plan to get you out."

Once again, Eddie came to his rescue, finding an old baseball bat in the corner, and tossing it to him. "Found this in one of the hallways. Think it used to belong to...one of the kids," he whispered hoarsely, the color draining from his face. "I—if you believe it kills monsters, it will. Swing," he said, Eddie's voice cracking a little. Ben stared at the bat he held in his hands, turning it over slightly, and looked back up at Eddie, feeling a newfound respect for their friend. He was braver than the other Loser's had given him credit for. He made a mental note never to doubt Eddie Kaspbrak ever again.

Ben knew what he had to do, and his fingers curled into a protective fist over the baseball bat.

"Hang on, Beverly," he whispered. "I'm coming." Right as he had been about to plan his attack, he heard the scream tear through Beverly Marsh like a shard of glass. He could hear Eddie shouting something at him, something about it being a trap, but he could not ignore that sound. Beverly was in trouble, he was her friend, and he had to save her. Ben felt his eyes widen and pulse quicken, his heart thudding like a rock rattling in its box. The scream came again, desperate, terrified, human

The blood drained from his face, before he was even aware of making a conscious decision, his legs were pounding furiously on the uneven cement of the floor, his ears straining for more sounds, more clues as to which door it had come from, there were too many. Ben had no clue as to what he would do when he got there; just that he had to get there, fast. "Save Beverly, save all of us, get the fuck out of this town and never come back," he muttered to himself, mostly to give himself encouragement. He wrenched open the door the light was coming from and stumbled his way in, the bat in his hands ready to strike. Beverly was there all right, but she was not alone. That dark-haired asshole that Eddie had been fighting with was with her, that bastard.

"Oh, God," he moaned, realizing this was another one of the house's damn visions as the basement melted away to reveal someone's backyard, the grass damp with dew beads beneath his sneakers. He turned to leave, not wanting to witness anymore of this nightmare, but found himself face-to-face with the man himself, his mouth dripping blood and a fuming expression in his dark eyes. "Fuck me."

Tom Rogan held Ben's head in his hands and swiveled him back around. "Watch," he commanded furiously. "You'll miss my favorite part, Ben," he taunted, falling silent as he watched Ben's reaction. "We're coming up on it now, just watch."

Ben squirmed in the ghoul's grasp, actively shutting his eyes and trying to block it out, but he couldn't. He was forced to watch one of his greatest fears come to life again. Beverly Marsh, the one crush he would never quite get over, in love with another man. Beverly's painted toes dig into the earth—the grass around them on the blanket in Tom's backyard was damp rather than wet and the fall leaves still had a crunch to them. As Tom thrust inward, all she could see was his face, the leaves above and the sky an inky blackness, the moon a milky crescent. Their breaths rose in visible puffs and though there was a soft chilly wind, they were warm with one another. They knew they were too old for outdoor sex in their late twenties; it really should be all silk sheets and petals, but she didn't care and neither did Tom.

Tomorrow, this memory would be what got them through their days, and in her old age, the reason behind her grin. Ben was grateful the blanket covered most of Bev, preserving her dignity, but it did nothing to quell the hatred he felt for Tom. His rage and hatred intensified when he heard Beverly whisper into Tom's ear as they switched positions, her on top now, tossing her red hair over her shoulders. "Tom, I will always love you."

"You hear that?" taunted the ghoul-Tom, still maintaining his firm grip on Ben's head. "She'll always love me, Ben. Me, not you. You lost. This is your greatest fear, isn't it? Her choosing me over you. It's time you faced the music, she wants me, not you. You'll never be good enough for her, certainly can't satisfy her the way I can."

Unable to stomach witnessing anymore, Ben felt the scream from deep within forcing its way from his mouth, as if his terrified soul had unleashed a demon. All he felt was anger, all he felt is that he didn't want to be friends with anyone at all, because then, he didn't have to trust anyone, it would be safer, easier to choose not to stay. Ben knew he was hiding a truth from himself, of how much this really had to do with his scars that just would not heal. His fists clenched and his teeth locked up once the sound was out, his gaze drifting downwards to the bat in his hands.

Swing, Eddie's voice seemed to tell him. Swing!

So, he did. Gripping the bat tightly in both hands, he swung at the ghoul version of Tom, not bothering to keep his satisfied smile to himself as he heard the sickening crunch of bones as the ghoul's nose started gushing blood. With a primal scream, he continued this battering until he was reduced to a mere pile on the floor, a bloody mess that had been his adversary. He was grotesque.

Already, Tom's eyes were swollen over, and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. Tom Rogan, dead or not, ghoul or not, was now as revolting as he should be, finally the outside reflected the man within. He lay foul in his own fluids.

Even if the monster made it, those scars would be with it forever. With a wrinkled nose, Ben took a step backwards. It was tempting to whisper something into the demon's ear that he was broken, and Ben had won, but what was the point. He would be lucky to remember his own name now. Even if it lived, its walking disfigured face would be a living reminder to everyone of what happened, like it happened to Tom, and like it was going to happen to Pennywise the Dancing Fucking Clown, anyone else who to those who messed with Beverly Marsh.

"Hang on, Bev," he whispered, clutching the bloodied baseball bat in his hands, moving back into the hallway, where Jenna stood waiting, horrified and speechless at the bat in his hands. "I'm coming… January Ember flames. Your hair is winter fire," he whispered, as a mantra to himself. "My heart burns there too. Your hair is winter fire. My heart burns there too." Over and over, he recited his poem as he ran, each step giving him courage to hopefully finish this thing once and for all.

Hurry, Ben, she was saying to him. Hurry, please...