A/N: Content Warnings: Fear, Language, Disturbing Content, Death.

He really needed to stop falling asleep outside. It might be relaxing to lay among the grass, to feel the breeze on his skin, but it was also very dangerous. Any number of things could happen to his body while he was unconscious.

"You were here for the money!"

He turned and witnessed Joyce Byers slam a small blue paper into Will and Jonathan's father's chest.

"The money! Admit it!" Joyce threw her arms around wildly as she continued to yell, "You aren't here 'cause of Will! You never cared about him! You never did!"

The man's face contorted with disgust at the accusation. He didn't know the man's name. He didn't even really know the man, he had only seen him once. That very day actually.

"Jesus, Joyce, it was his funeral today! Do we have to do this right now?" The man yelled back.

"I can't believe I fell for this," Joyce scoffed. The rivers of her anger and disappointment ran deep.

"I'm here to help, Joyce."

"To help?"

He had a suspicion that the man was not, in fact, there to help. He was a fairly good judge of character, and just being in proximity to the man was enough to tell him all he needed to know. This man was a habitual liar, and an opportunist. The kind of man who's insular view of the world destroyed every relationship he had.

And of course, there was that small part about being there for the money, whatever that meant.

"We could use that money for good," the man said.

"Oh - oh like maybe to pay off your debts?" Joyce asked, clearly having long since grown accustomed to the man's tricks.

The man's voice took a tone of false indignation. "To pay for Jonathan to go to school!"

Joyce pointed a shaking finger at him. "Oh, don't do that," she replied.

"Do what?"

"Lie to me!" Joyce screamed, face turning slightly red. He had never seen her angry like this. To be honest, he found her even more fascinating now. The longer he lived, the more he discovered how truly complex people were.

"I'm not lying to you!" Well… some people more than others.

Joyce called the man's bluff, asking, "Yeah, well, where does he wanna go? Huh?"

"What?" The man was clearly caught off guard by the question.

She began to raise her voice again and clarified. "Where does Jonathan want to go to college?"

College? He hadn't ever really thought about higher education. He knew what it was, of course, but that was the extent of that. Was college something everyone aspired to?

"We get that money, anywhere he damn well pleases!" The man obviously didn't know, if his attempt at answering was any indication.

"NYU, Lonnie!" Joyce jumped and screamed in the man's face. He could feel the disdain radiating off of her. Whoever this Lonnie may be, her hatred for him was all-encompassing. "He's wanted to go to NYU since he was six years old!"

He wasn't sure what NYU was. He might have to look into it, considering he and Jonathan had similar interests. In the event that he decided to pursue further academia, perhaps NYU would be a good option. Something to dwell on at a later time.

"So then he goes to NYU!" Lonnie, which he had just discovered was the man's name, bellowed back at the woman.

Joyce blinked at him, face twisting and lip curling. "Get out," she replied, voice jumping octaves again. "Get out!

Lonnie stepped toward her and smirked. "You need me here, Joyce," he said with a low voice.

"Oh, brother," Joyce laughed bitterly. "I have not needed you for a long time!"

He frowned as she spoke, a bit lost. Lonnie was her brother? That was rather strange. He had been under the impression that the man was Jonathan and Will's father. Was it normal to have children with one's siblings? He would have to look into that as well.

"Oh no? Look what happened," Lonnie replied. The type of comment only a cruel and callous person would make, all things considered.

"Oh, don't you dare." Joyce's face darkened and she shoved both her hands at the man. "At least I was here!"

"Oh, come on, Joyce! Just look around at this place." Lonnie gestured roughly at the space around them. "All your Christmas lights. What the hell am I supposed to think? You're such a great mom? You're a mess!"

He didn't have a mother to compare the woman to. But for all intents and purposes, everything he had seen would indicate that she was a great mother. In his short time observing Joyce, he had seen her commit every ounce of her being to her finding missing child. Even when nobody believed her, she had kept hope that Will was okay. And he was fairly certain not many others would have done the same.

"Maybe I am a mess. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm out of my mind! But, God help me, I will keep these lights up until the day I die if I think there's a chance that Will's still out there!" Joyce pointed wildy around her, presumably at hanging lights. He watched as she snatched Lonnie's bag from the chair and threw it at him. "Now get out! Get out of my house!"

He had to admit he was kind of enjoying the spectacle of it all. But his enjoyment didn't last very long as an incessant barking sound drew him back to the waking world.

The sun was high in the sky when a loud cracking sound rang out through the air. Jonathan held Lonnie's gun out in front of him and fired another shot while aiming carefully at a beer can sitting atop a tree stump. Every shot he took missed its target and soon he ran through the entire clip. He sighed, lowering the gun and glaring at the targets.

How was he supposed to kill a monster when he couldn't even kill an aluminum can?

"You're supposed to hit the cans, right?" Nancy asked. He turned to see her walking towards him, a bag slung over her shoulder.

Jonathan blinked at her a few times before smirking. "No, actually, you see the spaces in between the cans? I'm aiming for those." And if that had been true, he would have been a sharpshooter.

"Ah," Nancy nodded with a smile. She set her bag and bat on the ground as he held up the gun for her to see.

"You ever shot a gun before?" Jonathan asked.

She didn't really seem like the type and her scoff confirmed his suspicions. "Have you met my parents?"

He chuckled and began to refill the clip. "Yeah, I haven't shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit."

"A rabbit?"

"Yeah," Jonathan replied wistfully. "I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something. I cried for a week."

He had started hating his father around that time. After the hunting trip gone wrong, Lonnie had been a lot more mean and standoffish, like he was ashamed he wasn't good enough. He could remember aiming the gun at a small rabbit, crying and begging his father to let him spare the animal.

"Jesus," Nancy muttered, brows dipping. She probably thought he was a wimp for crying.

"What? I'm a fan of Thumper," Jonathan said humorously .

Nancy let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. "I meant your dad."

"Yeah. I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but…I wasn't around for that part." He prepared the gun to shoot again, but Nancy quickly held out her hand. He passed it to her before pointing at the cans. "Um, yeah. Just, uh, point and shoot."

Nancy looked out at the three targets sitting on the logs, but it was almost like she didn't notice them. "I don't think my parents have ever loved each other."

"They must've married for some reason," Jonathan replied, confused as to how she was standing there if that was the case. He was pretty sure she hadn't been adopted.

"My mom was young." Nancy took aim at the gun, voice distant. "My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac...and started their nuclear family."

Jonathan looked away from her and back at the targets. Despite the quietness of her voice, he could sense the lurking anger behind her words. Like a hidden fire. A fire he knew all too well. He supposed that was why she was trying to get with Harrington. Not like he could imagine any other reason to date the guy.

"Screw that," he mutter quietly. He had always despised the way everyone put themselves into specific boxes. Nobody was true, nobody had identity. They were all so cliché.

"Yeah." Nancy gripped the gun firmly, bending her head slightly and closing one eye as she took aim at the middle can. "Screw that." She fired the gun and he watched as the bullet blasted the can off its stump. Nancy gazed over at him in surprise, but he merely grinned back at her.

It was the outcome he expected that outcome all along.

Later in the day found Mike and Eleven walking along the train tracks in the woods, Dustin and Lucas several paces ahead. They had been walking for hours, and yet it felt like they had made no progress. Mike wasn't the most athletic, but he was pretty thin, so usually walking wasn't a big deal for him. But his feet were really starting to hurt.

"How much further?" Lucas asked.

Dustin stared down at the compass in his hands. "I don't know. These only tell direction, not distance." He gave his friend a look of disapproval. "You really need to learn more about compasses."

"I'm just saying. How do we know when we get to the gate?"

"Uh, I think a portal to another dimension is gonna be pretty obvious," Dustin pointed out sarcastically.

Lucas sighed again and glanced back at Eleven, watching the girl wipe at her nose. "Do you think she's acting weird?"

Dustin cast a look over his shoulder at her too before turning back to the bushy-browed boy. "You're asking if the weirdo is acting weird?"

"I mean, weirder than normal?" Lucas corrected himself, rolling his eyes.

He glanced back at her again as Dustin responded, "I don't know. Who cares?"

Behind them Eleven stalked silently beside Mike, breathing hard. Suddenly, she seized his arm, whispering, "Mike."

"Yeah?" He turned and looked at her, brows raising.

"Turn back," she said.

"What?" Mike' brows moved the opposite direction, furrowing deeply. Turning back would be pointless. They hadn't even found anything yet. He didn't understand the sudden change. "Why?"

"I'm tired," Eleven replied.

"Look, I'm sure we're almost there. Just hold on a little longer, okay?" He turned back to his compass. Sure, he was tired too, and his feet still hurt, but they needed to find Will.

Eleven stopped walking for a moment and peered back down at the track they had just travelled. Mike continued onward after his friends, oblivious to the fear and worry consuming her.

Jonathan trekked through the forest in between his and Steve's house, Nancy falling in step with him on his right. He hoped their practice had been enough for what they might find. Or who, to be more accurate. Their feet crunched over dead leaves and sticks as they searched. He had given her the gun after her earlier display of marksmanship, taking the bat for himself. The weapon lay resting on his right shoulder, handle gripped tightly in his hand.

"You never said what I was saying," Nancy said.

"What?" Jonathan asked, confused by the sudden outburst.

"Yesterday," she replied. "You said I was saying something and that's why you took my picture. It clicked in his head. She was talking about back in the red room. His face suddenly flushed with heat again and he struggled to give her an answer.

"Oh,uh...I don't know. My guess…" Jonathan muttered, pausing to think. His mind went back to what his strange classmate had said about the photos. Maybe that was a sign that he shouldn't express something observed from a situation without consent. But she had just asked, so... He hesitated, trying to remember everything he had seen that night through the lens of his camera. "I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But for that moment...it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself."

A brief moment of silence passed between them, before Nancy's eyes narrowed and her voice turned spiteful. "That is such bullshit."

"Wh-what?" Jonathan replied, the bitterness catching him off guard. He knew he should have kept his big mouth shut. This was exactly why he didn't talk to people. He clearly couldn't be honest with them.

"I am not trying to be someone else." Nancy whirled around from her new spot in front of him, glaring angrily. "Just because I'm dating Steve and you don't like him-"

Jonathan felt the heat flash through his veins, and his temple began to throb. He moved forward and pushed past her. "You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture." She clearly didn't get it.

"He's actually a good guy," Nancy continued.

"Okay." Last time he had checked, good guys didn't bully other people and try to break their property. Good guys didn't poke fun at missing kids.

"Yesterday, with the camera...He's not like that at all. He was just being protective," Nancy weakly tried to justify.

Jonathan scoffed. 'Protective', sure. By being a massive prick. "Yeah, that's one word for it," he replied.

"Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?"

"No I...I never said that."

"He had every right to be pissed!"

Jonathan turned around and snapped, "Okay, alright! Does that mean I have to like him?" Because he definitely didn't. He never had.

"No," Nancy replied.

"Listen, don't take it so personally, okay?" It wasn't like Steve was some special case. Something Jonathan tried to explain. "I don't like most people. He's in the vast majority." He didn't even like the one person who was most similar to him. He really didn't like anyone except his mom and his little brother. And maybe Nancy.

He tried to continue his trek into the woods, but Nancy stopped him. "You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay."

"Yeah?" Jonathan asked, eyes full of suspicion.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was thinking, 'Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is'," Nancy deadpanned.

Fine, if she wanted to play that game he would just have to entertain her. "Well, I was just starting to think you were okay."

"Oh?"

He paced over to where she stood and turned a venomous glare on her. "I was thinking, 'Nancy Wheeler, she's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does...until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac. Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it'!"

Jonathan took a deep breath, refilling the air he had just pushed out in that long winded rant.

It was a low blow, picking on her insecurities. But that's what people like him were best at. When you stayed quiet, faded into the background, you had nothing but time to get to know the darkest parts of a person. The parts they didn't want to face.

He pushed past her once again, fuming. He didn't wait for her to respond, or even follow. No... he had a monster to kill.

Joyce was in the middle of unraveling her Christmas lights when someone hammered on her door. She paused, looking up from the couch quickly before scoffing and rolling her eyes. "Go away, Lonnie," she called out in exasperation. The knocking continued and she roughly threw the lights down, snatching the hammer from the table and storming over to the door. "Seriously! I am gonna mur-!"

She opened the door to find Hopper standing there with his index finger over his lips and a paper held up with the words 'Don't say anything' written across it.

"What? What?" Joyce whispered under her breath as the man entered her house and closed the door. Hopper turned and his eyes went wide.

He slowly looked around the room at the large amounts of Christmas lights hanging everywhere. "Oh, Jesus," he muttered quietly.

Mike and the others were wandering through the Hawkins junkyard when Dustin came to an abrupt stop. "Oh no," the curly-haired boy lamented. Mike stared at him and then turned to look at Lucas , seeing that his friend was just as clueless as he was.

"'Oh no'. What's 'oh no'?" Lucas asked.

"We're headed back home," Dustin replied, turning around to reveal a grave face.

"What?" Mike frowned, because what the hell did that even mean? Why were they headed back home? That was completely redundant.

Lucas must have known something was up too, doublechecking, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Setting sun, right there," Dustin gestured at the sun in the sky, "We looped right back around."

"And you're just realizing this now?" Lucas was clearly frustrated. Mike had to agree that he felt the same. Dustin was supposed to be the compass expert of the Party. That meant not getting them lost or leading them on a wild goose chase.

"Why is this all on me?" Dustin asked.

"Because you're the compass genius!" Lucas replied, again mimicking Mike's thought from seconds prior.

Dustin gestured at them usng the hand holding his faulty compass. "What do yours say?"

Mike and Lucas both glanced at their own compasses and simultaneously answered, "North."

"Makes no damn sense."

Lucas sighed as Mike looked around before offering his only theory. "Maybe the Gate moved." He was grasping at straws, but what else could it be.

"No, I don't think it's the Gate. I-I think it's something else screwing with the compasses," Dustin admitted.

Mike and his friends cast a glance at the surrounding area. There were tons of electronic devices littering the ground. One of them might be causing it. "Maybe it's something here." He gestured at the junk before noticing Lucas turn to stare at the silent girl standing behind them. He furrowed his eyebrows at his friend.

"No, it has to be like a super magnet," Dustin shook his head.

"It's not a magnet," Lucas muttered. Dustin joined Mike in watching their friend as he pointed accusingly at Eleven. "She's been acting weirder than normal. If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass."

"Why would she do that?" Mike asked, brows pinching together. He refused to believe Eleven would try to purposely mess them up.

"Because she's trying to sabotage our mission," Lucas yelled, pointing each time he mentioned her. "Because she's a traitor!"

"Lucas, what are you doing?" Mike watched hesitantly as his friend slowly stalked over to Eleven.

"You did it, didn't you?" Lucas accused the girl, voice low and suspicious. "You don't want us to reach the Gate. You don't want us to find Will."

"Lucas, come on, seriously, just leave her alone!" That couldn't be true!

"Admit it," Lucas repeated.

"No-" she began.

"Admit it!" Lucas yelled this time, making Eleven flinch. He roughly snatched her arm and pulled up, revealing the sleeve of her jacket. Mike and Dustin looked down and noticed wet, dark, red stains on the blue fabric. "Fresh blood." Lucas shoved her arm away. "I knew it."

No, it couldn't be fresh. He knew she wouldn't do that to them. "Lucas, come on!" Mike yelled, trying to calm his angry friend.

"I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks! She was using her powers!"

So that's what Mike had seen Lucas whispering to Dustin about. But it wasn't true! "Bull! That's old blood! Right, El?" He looked at her expectantly but she didn't respond. Instead her face only screwed up with fear and she started to cry. "Right, El?"

"It's...not...it's not safe," Eleven replied tearfully. Mike let out a breath of betrayal as Lucas shook his head in anger.

The multi-colored bulbs from the Christmas lights that Joyce had hung all over the inside of her house now lay scattered on various table surfaces and the floor. Hopper unscrewed one last bulb, sighing in relief when he found nothing. He sat himself in a chair, breathing heavily, exhausted.

"Okay," Hopper panted out, "Should be okay. I mean...I can't guarantee it, but it should be okay."

"What the hell is going on Hopper?" Joyce asked.

"They bugged my place," Hopper replied, a disturbed expression on his face.

"What?"

"They bugged my place," he repeated more clearly. "They put a microphone in the light." Hopper took a deep breath, finally starting to relax. "It's 'cause I'm on to them and they know it. I don't know…"

Joyce held her hands at her side, palms up, at stared at the man with furrowed brows. "Who?"

"I thought they might be watching you, too," Hopper shook his head. "I don't know, the CIA, the NSA, Department of Energy...I don't know."

Joyce tried to understand what she had just heard but still struggled to follow. "You gotta explain this to me, 'cause I am not-"

"I went to the morgue last night, Joyce," Hopper interrupting, looking straight into her eyes.

"What?"

"It wasn't him."

Like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her, Joyce stared at him in astonishment. She slowly leaned forward and whispered, "What?"

"Will's body, it was a fake." Hopper kept his focus on her as she knelt on the ground in front of him. He carefully moved closer to her, trying to convey how sorry he was through his eyes. "You were right. This whole time, you were right."

Joyce's lips trembled and her eyes closed. They began to water when she opened them again to smile at the man.

Mike couldn't believe this was happening. That Lucas had been right. That Eleven had sabotaged them. Everything he had relied on as truth over the past few days had just been turned on it's head.

"What did I tell you?" Lucas yelled at him. "She's been playing us from the beginning!"

"That's not true," Mike yelled back. He refused to accept it. Eleven had to have been trying to help, she had to! "She helped us find Will!"

"Find Will? Find Will? Where is he, then? Huh? I don't see him." Lucas circled around, pretending to search for a boy they all knew wasn't there.

Mike was not amused. "Yeah, you know what I mean."

"No, I actually don't. Just think about it, Mike. She could've just told us where the Upside Down was right away," Lucas gestured wildly at the noticeably fearful Eleven. "But she didn't. She just made us run around like headless chickens."

Dustin hurried forward to push the two apart, attempting to prevent the storm that was brewing between Mike and his friend. "Alright, calm down!"

"No!" Lucas slapped Dustin's arm away, beside himself. "She used us, all of us! She helped just enough so she could get what she wants. Food and a bed! She's like a stray dog." Mike always forgot how cruel Lucas could be when he was angry.

But he could be just as mean. He stepped into his friend's personal space, rage building in his chest. "Screw you, Lucas!"

"No! Screw you, Mike," Lucas screamed, pointing his finger repeatedly at Mike's face. "You're blind...blind because you like that a girl's not grossed out by you. But wake up, man! Wake the hell up! She knows where Will is, and now she's just letting him die in the Upside Down."

"Shut up!" Mike was at reaching boiling point. He wasn't going to take this crap. Not from anyone. And certainly not from Lucas.

"For all we know, it's her fault!" Lucas shot another disgusted look at Eleven.

"Shut up!" Mike repeated vehemently.

"We're looking for some stupid monster…" Lucas continued, giving gave him a small push. "But did you ever stop to think that maybe she's the monster?"

And like Mount St. Helens two years prior, Mike erupted in a violent display. "I said shut up!" He lunged at his friend, wrapping his arm around Lucas' shoulders and forcing him to the ground to grapple with him on the dirt.

Eleven's eyes went wide with horror. "Stop!"

"Knock it off, you idiots!" Dustin shouted, but Mike ignored him, grabbing relentlessly at his friend on top of him.

"Stop it!" Eleven screamed this time. Lucas gained the upper hand, grunting as Mike tried to shove him away from him.

"Mike, get off!" Dustin tried again, seeing that the situation was getting dangerous.

"Stop it!"

Lucas was finally able to draw back his arm and Mike flinched as he prepared for the impact of the fist. But the impact never came. Eleven let out a bloodcurdling scream which echoed throughout the junkyard and he watched with a slack jaw as Lucas was lifted into the air before being thrown back as if he weighed nothing. Lucas slammed into the ground and slid across the dirt, smashing into the side of a broken down vehicle. He did not get back up.

"Jesus!" Dustin cried out in alarm. Scrambling to his feet, Mike chased after the curly-haired boy to check their friend.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas, are you all right? Lucas!" Mike shook him, trying to get him to wake up.

"Lucas, come on!" Dustin gripped Lucas's shoulder and gave a rough shove of his own.

"Lucas, wake up! Lucas," Mike tried again. He couldn't believe it. Eleven had just thrown Lucas almost twenty feet. Like he was a child's toy.

Dustin continued to try to revive the unconscious boy with no luck. "Come on, Lucas!" The anxiety in Mike's brain continued to spike as more and more time passed without Lucas waking up. Was he dead? Did she just kill him?

"Why would you do that?" Mike spun around, glaring accusingly at Eleven. "What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?" They had just been having a little quarrel, she didn't have to seriously hurt him! They were supposed to be friends! Maybe Lucas was right about everything, maybe she was the monster…

Eleven only stood there sobbing as he yelled at her, nose bleeding from the use of her powers. Mike turned back and kept attempting to revive Lucas, ignoring the girl's tears.

"Come on, wake up," Dustin began to grow more desperate, shaking Lucas like a rag doll. "Come on!"

"Lucas...Lucas, come on!" Finally the boy's eyes started to open. Dustin actually chuckled in giddy relief, Mike exhaling the breath he had been holding. "Lucas. Lucas, you okay?" He asked his bushy-browned friend.

"Lucas…Lucas, how many fingers am I holding up?" Dustin held up three fingers, but the injured boy didn't answer, instead cradling the back of his head with his hand. "Lucas, how many fingers?"

Mike reached out to his friend, trying to check him for injuries. "Let me see your head," he sad gently.

"Get off of me!" Lucas slapped his hand away. His knees wobbled as he unsteadily pulled himself up off the ground.

"Jus...Lucas." Mike tried to reach for him again. "Lucas, let me see."

Lucas slapped him arm away once more, voice breaking this time as he again snapped, "Get off of me!" The boy pushed past his two friends and started to march away from them. Mike struggled to his feet to follow after Lucas, but Dustin held him back.

"Lucas, come on," Mike called out. Lucas ignored them, continuing to stomp out of the junkyard.

"Let him go," Dustin replied, putting his arm around him. "Man, let him go."

Mike watched his friend disappear into the trees, wondering how had they gotten here. How had things gone so wrong? He turned to look back at Eleven but found that she was nowhere to be seen. Her absence left him with a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Where's El?" He asked Dustin, beginning to panic. He didn't wait for an answer before he started to yell, "El? El!"

Dustin too began to freak out, running toward a group of abandoned vehicles as he searched for her. "Eleven!"

"El! Eleven!"

"El!"

"Eleven!" Mike screams echoed into the evening air as the sun setting in the distance.

There were very few things that brought him comfort in this world. Fairy tales were one of them, as was art. But above all things ranked baths. He liked baths very much. Enjoyed the feeling of water around his body. The weightlessness that the water brought. It was the closest he believed he would ever get to flying.

That was where he had been when he felt it.

One second he was watching the water, the surface as still as glass, and then that surface rippled and he felt it. Distress and kinetic energy. It had to be her. Eleven. He knew she was in Hawkins, but something was clearly wrong with her. This wasn't the danger kind of distress though, it was more like… he sniffed, trying to place it. The smell of rain and dark chocolate filled his nostrils.

Despair.

He had become familiar with that emotion over the last few days. He decided to ignore it. Eleven needed to figure out for herself how to acclimate to the world. Figure out what she wanted to do. Like he was trying to do. For now, he would just lay in the bathtub and let the water keep him afloat. And if he closed his eyes as the sky turned dark, well, he wouldn't notice that until it was too late.

Night had fallen when Jonathan and Nancy finally neared their destination. Luckily, he had insisted they bring along flashlights, so they each had beams of light to illuminate the darkness. They walked in silence until he noticed Nancy suddenly pause and he turned to see what the hold up was.

"What, are you tired?" Jonathan asked sharply.

"Shut up." She was still mad at him, obviously.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "What?" It had been quite a bit of time, how could she seriously still be angry?

Nancy's voice was very quiet when she added, "I heard something."

Now alert, Jonathan listened closely, suddenly hearing a strange sound coming from nearby. Almost like a soft whimpering. Following the noise, they moved deeper into the woods. A few yards away he and Nancy came across a blood covered dear, lying on it's side and emitting noises of misery.

"Oh, God," Nancy whispered as she knelt beside the creature, staring at it with pitiful eyes. Jonathan sighed and joined her as she reached to touch the animal. "It's been hit by a car. We can't just leave it."

A car? In the middle of the woods? That didn't seem likely. They locked eyes when she turned to look at him and he motioned to the gun in her hand. He didn't want to admit it but, car or no car, the only way for the deer's pain to cease was for its life to end. He watched with bated breath as Nancy struggled to raise the gun and aim it at the dear. Her hand shook wildly, clearly a sign that she wasn't able to stomach the task of ending it's suffering.

"I'll do it," Jonathan said, holding his hand out for the gun.

"I thought you said-?" Nancy began, but he cut her off.

"I'm not ten anymore" He took the gun from her and they both stood, staring down at the deer.

Nancy held the flashlight steady so he could see what he was doing. He aimed at the deer's head and cocked the gun. As his finger hovered over the trigger, he couldn't help listening to the creature's whimpers. Thoughts of that rabbit his father had made him kill came to mind and he felt slightly ashamed at the burn in his eyes. Just as his finger had started to twitch, the deer was suddenly dragged from view. He and Nancy leapt back, gasping loudly.

He knew a car hadn't hit the deer. The monster must have attacked it!

"What was that?" Nancy whispered, voice trembling.

They both took a moment to gather themselves before investigating the scene. Shining his light across the leaves, Jonathan followed after her as she tracked the trail of blood left in the deer's wake. They closely examined the ground for any sign of… well, anything. But any trace of the body's location soon came to an abrupt end.

Nancy scanned the surroundings, brows furrowing. "Where'd it go?"

"I don't know. Do you see anymore blood?" The hairs on the back of Jonathan's neck were standing on end. It was like the deer had just vanished into thin air. Something was not right.

"No," Nancy replied.

They circled around each other, Jonathan looking through the trees for signs of movements while Nancy continued to scour the ground for hints of blood or even pieces of the deer itself. The adrenaline must have been the reason that he didn't notice as Nancy moved away from him. Instead, he continued forward slowly, shining his light at every branch with the gun still clutched tightly in his hand.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He didn't remember much from his hunting trip as a kid, but one specific moment stayed burned into his brain.

"When it suddenly gets quiet like this, that's your sign to get the hell out of dodge. Because…" He remembered the cocking of the gun and Lonnie staring grimly into his eyes. "That means there's danger nearby."

When Jonathan had told the story to Nancy earlier, he had omitted the part where a starving coyote had attacked him and his father. Lonnie theorized that the animal must have been rejected by its pack, because the thing was emaciated and mangy, clearly not having eaten for a while. If it weren't for the fact he had handed the gun back to his father minutes earlier, then the thing might have eaten him. Instead Lonnie planted a bullet right between its eyes.

The whole thing had been pretty traumatic, actually.

Jonathn was ripped from his thoughts as a distant scream echoed through the woods. "Nancy!" He yelled out, running back toward where he had last seen her. But there was nothing nothing to find but her bag and the bat.

"Nancy? Nancy? Nancy, where are you?" He picked up the bag and turned, shining his light around at the nearby trees. He ran off into the night, abandoning the items on the ground. "Nancy! Nancy!"

Unnoticed by Jonathan was a strange hollow opening in the tree next to where he had found her belongings. And as he ran way, it slowly began to close.

A/N: Do you writers out there every go back and forth about how you feel about your own writing style? Probably because this is my first work. Neil Gaiman (my idol) said that it took him multiple books to really get a good grasp on the way he communicates via writing.

Anyway, another part down! I'm sad we didn't get any Steve in this chapter but it isn't all about him. Not yet anyway (wink wink nudge nudge). But we did learn something new about our mystery character. He likes Joyce and he likes baths!

Until our stars next align.