A/N: This will be the first part of a multi story series that will cover the entire show itself and the moments that happen for the applicable main characters in between each season.

This work covers Season 1, and will be told from multiple perspectives. It is entirely canon compliant, as all changes/additions are made in between scenes or result in added dialogue.

This is my first time writing fan fiction and as such I have little experience with author notes as well.

Fair warning, there is a heavy insertion of an Original Character, if you aren't in to that then I do apologize.

Trigger Warnings: Same things as the season itself. Described death, cursing, horror elements.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things, all characters, settings, and events are the property of the Duffer Brothers. With the added exception of any original characters, of which there should only be one who isn't just minor background people in scenes.

I hope you enjoy the Autumn of '83!

Sunday November 6th ,1983 - Hawkins, Indiana

He found himself here every night.

Every time he closed his eyes for longer than a moment. One second he was in his bed, or in a chair, or wherever he happened to have dozed off. And the next, there was nothing but black.

But this blackness wasn't the typical kind that a person might find when sleeping. This was no dream.

The In-Between.

That's what he called the place. Not in one world, nor in the other, somewhere in the middle that peaked into both. Between wake and sleep, between life and death. The name had seemed appropriate.

There were certain characteristics of the consuming emptiness that stood out, even when he had been a child. There was no sense of spatial awareness here. Everything was both far away and right within reach. Sound seemed to echo, the way it would in a large empty room. There were no walls, there was no ceiling, but there was a floor.

A floor made of water. Water that was too still, as if it had no depth or current.

He looked around, taking in the ever expansive darkness. It was always the same. all consuming emptiness, no sound but the soft splash of water at his feet if he decided to move around.

The first time he had seen someone else in the In-Between, he hadn't realized the cruel joke for what it was. The Others he had named them, because they were not him. No matter how hard he tried, and he had tried countless times, the Others whom appeared in the rift would not respond. Almost as though he wasn't there. They could not see him. They could not hear him. They could not feel him. But he could see them, hear them, feel them.

Eventually he had stopped trying to make contact with the Others.

So while he was not always alone here, not physically, he was always alone here.

Other times he was physically alone. What seemed like miles and miles of black nothingness, and him, standing in the middle of it with nowhere to go.

Maybe that was why he had always had such trouble sleeping. He hated it here. But nothing he ever did could stop him from returning to this hell every time he closed his eyes.

This particular time he seemed to be the only occupant, and so he did the usual and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head on them until he woke up. And like every other time, he wished he had never set foot in that place.

The voice was what caught his attention first.

"Mom? Johnathan?"

He raised his head and looked around for the source. He found nothing. Just as his head began to return to it's position on his arms he heard the same voice call out again.

"Mom?"

In this void, time was a construct of which there was no way to gauge. Hours, minutes, seconds, they all blurred together. So he never knew how long he had to wait to wake up.

It was becoming abundantly clear that this particular time he would not be waking up in the foreseeable future. That left him with two options; continue to sit here or follow the voice.

He decided to follow the voice.

The sound of feet on the water reverberated all around the expanse, but what would normally just be the sound of one pair of feet was replaced by two, and the second came from in front of him. He followed the sound, increasing his stride until he was almost running.

He reached the source of the noise shortly. Whoever the other footsteps belonged to, they were on the other side of the door he now stood in front of.

He didn't recognize the door. But then again, why would he? The door was brown, with three embossed squares spaced vertically along its surface. The top square was made of a frosted glass.

From behind the solitary door he could hear the sound of a dog barking incessantly along with frantic footsteps moving back and forth.

He reached for the doors knob and attempted to open it. Unsurprisingly it was locked. But that wouldn't make a difference to him. Not here.

"Hello?! Hello?!"

The voice was more panicked this time. When he began to shift the locking mechanism the voice stopped, as if waiting for a response. The breath of whomever was there increased in speed. Their dog suddenly began to bark more aggressively, no doubt sensing his presence.

Whoever was on the other side of the door was clearly terrified of what might be coming through, as he heard their footsteps running away from him when he opened the door. There was a yellow phone, the handle swaying back and forth by it's cord. Most likely dropped just now by the voice as they retreated. He continued to move toward the footsteps until he found himself in front of yet another obstacle.

There was a shed. That was where the sound had stopped. He stood there for a moment, knowing that the source of the noises lie just through that second door.

He paused to consider his motivations. He was acting rather out of character.

He always watched, but he never involved himself. He never went go looking for things in the void, not anymore. And on top of that, there were too many variables in play when he involved himself in other peoples lives. But he couldn't stop this sinking feeling in his gut. Fear, he recognized.

He had always struggled to understand human emotion. But fear was a basic animal instinct, and the one byproduct of the mind he never had difficulty with. Fear was one of the most important emotions and if one's subconscious did not recognize danger they would not feel it. And he felt it here.

Danger.

The door creaked as he pushed it open. His eyes locked on a young boy, who couldn't be more than twelve, holding a shotgun aimed right at the door. He could feel the terror eminating off of the child. He scanned the boy up and down, taking in his appearance.

The first thing he noticed was the jacket, the sleeveless red puffer variety with a block of yellow under the collar. He had a light brown bowl cut. He was small for his age, and rather thin. The boy's hands were shaking, his breath haggard, and his face was etched into a look of pure horror. His already large and expressive eyes wide with fear.

He tried to put a name to the face, but he drew a blank. That meant he had never met this child before. He remembered everything, and everyone, that he came across.

Without warning, the hair on back of his neck stood to attention. He felt it before heard it. Before the boy heard it.

Growling.

He watched in fascination as a large humanoid shadow grew behind the boy. As much as he felt the foreign urge to call out for the boy to run, he knew there would be no use. The boy wouldn't hear him anyway. He could only watch as the boy recognized the sound coming from behind him and the light overhead began to burn brighter.

The intensity of the light increased until it was blinding, and he shielded his eyes to protect them. When he lowered his hands, the light had dimmed back to it's normal level and all was quiet.

He looked around slowly. The strange silhouette, and the boy with it, had vanished. He was alone again.

He jumped awake, not bothering to check the time for it did not matter, and quickly began searching for his sketchbook. When he found it he flipped the pages until he settled on a blank one.

He rummaged through his desk drawer and removed other the item he sought. Charcoal in hand, he began to draw what he had seen. As time passed the shed began to take shape, along with the boy and the dark shadow behind him.

It had looked like a man, but not quite. It was too tall, limbs too long. Hands with spiny clawed fingers, feet that were almost lupine in their shape. And where there should have been a head was something almost like a flower. But this flower had teeth, and it's breath smelled of decay.

A creature unlike any he had ever seen in any book he had ever read.

He put the sketchbook down on his bed, staring at what he had drawn. As if he could forget. He never forgot. But normally drawing helped him sort through his thoughts. Not this time. He stood and began to pace around his room, mind still jumbled.

That boy.

He knew the monster had taken him. And he didn't know what he could do about it. More importantly, he didn't know why he cared.

He didn't dislike children, of humanity in general he always felt more kinship with them compared to their adult counterparts. Similar to animals, they just tried to survive in a cruel world surrounded by cruel people.

But he didn't know this child. So he shouldn't care.

He made his way to the bathroom directly across from his bedroom and studied his reflection in the mirror. His eyes shifted around, as if the face standing in front of him would somehow bring clarity. So many years he had been here in Hawkins, and in that time he had kept to himself. He didn't look for trouble, he didn't ask questions, and he didn't make friends. He stayed alone because that was the only way to be safe. It was the only way everyone could be safe. But that boy...

That boy hadn't been safe. So many years he had kept a low profile. But no matter how hard the day tries, still the night comes. And if that monster in his sketchbook was any indication, the night had indeed come.

So where did that leave him? A little girl flashed into his mind, a memory from long ago, but he quickly pushed that down.

His gaze moved over to the bathtub, eyes landing on his favorite book. The protagonist spoke to him. He too, all those year ago, had felt like he had tumbled down a rabbit hole into a strange world that didn't make sense.

He needed to make a choice. How many years of loneliness and isolation, and still the night came? What had been the point? In the morning, was he going to be a different person? Someone unafraid of the night? Someone who did more than just existed? More than just watched?

Someone like the girl from the book who, even in that strange world, kept pushing forward, finding adventure as she made her way home.

Maybe he owed himself. He owed that little girl. And he owed that frightened boy. So he would make a choice.

But for now... he was so tired.

A/N: For sake of atmosphere I split the first episode into two chapters.

Next chapter will cover the rest of the contents of Episode 1.

If you are reading this for the second time or more, you might notice a large difference in overall story content. I wrote the entire story originally with every scene of the show included, but I decided while working on the first sequel that I wasn't a fan of that. The story didn't feel like it cohesively had the same voice. So I will be rewriting the chapters one by one and updating them.

If you happen to noticed a sudden shift in tone that means I haven't made it that far. Otherwise, I have and all is good!

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave feedback if desired.

Until our stars next align!