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

Stirred from his slumber, Jonathan opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar night stand. It took him a moment to realize where he was as he quickly glanced around and inspected his surroundings. After a brief second, the previous night's events came rushing back to him.

Nancy had asked him to stay. He had stayed the night with Nancy.

Jonathan blinked slowly, fully registering the daylight above his head and hearing the sound of what he thought was paper below him. Looking toward the foot of the bed, he saw Nancy leaning over and turning the pages of a book, apparently doing homework or something.

"Oh...hey," he mumbled sleepily and slowly sat up.

Nancy continued to take down notes, muttering back a soft, "Hey."

Jonathan grunted as he felt his body unwind. He let silence linger for a second before he glanced at her face. "Couldn't sleep?" He had noticed the shadows under her eyes. They kind of looked like the ones that strange guy from school seemed to have permanently on his face. Another thing that was off about him.

Nancy shook her head. "Every time I close my eyes, I just...keep seeing that...thing. Wherever I was, that place...I think that it lives there," she said with a detached voice. "It was feeding there. Feeding on that deer. That means that if...if Will and Barbara…"

It as a way of thinking that he refused to fall victim to. Jonathan scooted closer. "Hey. My mom said she talked to Will. If he's alive, there's a chance Barbara is, too."

"But that means that she's trapped...in that place." She was clearly not comforted by his words, turning her head slightly and staring at him with a hopeless expression. "We have to find it again."

He had been thinking the same thing all night. Apart from a long lasting trauma, they hadn't really obtained anything of value from their little excursion into the woods.

"You wanna go back out there?" Jonathan asked, face grim.

"Maybe we don't have to," Nancy added quickly. "When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer. Meaning it's...it's a predator, right?"

He didn't quite see where she was headed but shrugged anyway. "Right."

"And it seems to hunt at night, like a...a lion or a coyote." Nancy pointed at the book she had been reading from and he realized it was book about animals, specifically predators. "But it doesn't hunt in packs like them. It's always alone, like...like a bear. And remember at Steve's, when Barb cut herself?" Jonathan nodded slowly, still half-embarrassed that he could only confirm that due to spying on them. Nancy clearly no longer cared, as she continued, "And then, last night, the deer…"

"Hmm, it was bleeding, too." He finally realized what she was getting at.

Of course, he had pretty much assumed that the creature was responsible when they found the deer in the first place. Despite her theory at the time, it was very obvious that a car had not been the perpetrator.

"One sec." Nancy pulled out another book and opened to a bookmarked page, pointing at one of the images. "Sharks can detect blood in one part per million. That's one drop of blood in a million drops of water, and they can smell it from a quarter mile away."

"So you're saying it can detect blood?" Jonathan asked.

The idea was extremely fascinating, and also completely terrifying. It made sense to him if he thought about it, though. The monster didn't appear to have any eyes in the photo he had taken, meaning it had to have hunted by sound and smell.

"It's just a theory," Nancy replied.

Jonathan was pretty sure the theory was correct, but… "We could test it," he offered. "But if it works…"

"At least we'll know it's coming."

They gazed silently at one another for a long moment. Suddenly the door to the bedroom rattled, and they both gasped. He reflexively grabbed her hand, trying not to be distracted by the soft, smooth skin.

"Honey, are you up?" Mrs. Wheeler called from the hall.

Nancy sighed in relief, and Jonathan thanked the stars in the sky that she had locked the door. "Yeah, I'm...I'm getting dressed," she lied.

"I, uh, made some blueberry pancakes."

"I'll be down in a second." They listened to the sounds of Karen walking away. Jonathan noticed her glance down at where his hand was still holding hers.

He quickly let it go before smirking softly at her. "Your mom doesn't knock?" It was an attempt to alleviate the sudden awkwardness. One that Nancy seemed to appreciate as she chuckled before turning to stare at him.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She asked.

He definitely was.

Jonathan jumped up and flipped on the radio on her dresser as she began to change.

Connie Frazier knocked at the pale blue door of a modest home. After a few seconds with no answer, she promptly knocked once more. A short moment later the door opened and the owner stared at her with inquisitive eyes. Putting on her brightest smile she greeted him pleasantly. "Hi. Scott Clarke?"

"Uh, yes?"

"The same Scott Clarke who teaches science and AV at Hawkins Middle?" Connie double-checked.

"The very same."

"Oh, wonderful." The woman smiled as if having met him made her entire day. Minutes later, she and Scott sat conversing in the sitting room. She held out a pamphlet to the science teacher titled 'The Indiana AV club'. "...and we're making a newsletter, which we'll send out monthly. It'll showcase all the latest equipment, as well as how-to articles, which the kids write themselves."

Scott took the pamphlet and grinned. "Oh, that's neat."

"What we're really trying to do here, Mr. Clarke-"

"Oh, please, call me Scott," he interrupted.

Connie nodded quickly, smiling again at the man. "Scott. What we're trying to do here, Scott, is to connect kids from all over the state and give them the support and encouragement to pursue careers in technology. We feel these are the kinds of kids that are going to make Indiana proud."

"I agree, yes. Completely."

Connie kept her eyes on the man and tilted her head, expression turning playful. "So, you know any kids you think might wanna participate?"

"Oh, I have a few in mind," Scott replied happily, oblivious to the calculated expression that came over the woman's face as she slowly nodded.

Dustin had showed up at Mike's house early that morning, hopefully for some good news regarding Eleven. One look at Mike's expression, however, told the curly-haired boy everything he needed to know.

"I just...I can't believe she didn't come back," Mike sighed as he walked back and forth in his basement. He was still somewhat dumb-founded. He had honestly expected Eleven to show back up the night before, that at the very least. He even tried to tidy up the fort he had destroyed just in case she did show.

But she never came.

"She's gotta be close," Dustin replied.

"She said it wasn't safe." Mike wasn't so sure. Where could she go? She didn't exactly blend in. "She just messed up the compasses because she wanted to protect us. She didn't betray us." He had gone over the previous day's events after his tantrum and realized, too late, that Eleven had merely been trying to keep them safe. They had been the ones who had betrayed her, and he despised himself for it.

"Mike, calm down," Dustin said from his spot by the stairs.

"I shouldn't have yelled at her. I never should've done that!" Another wave of shame washed over him.

"Mike, this isn't your fault."

"Yeah, it's Lucas'," Mike replied. He would never admit it, but he had a tendency to externalize everything. It made him feel a little better to point the finger at someone else, even if he couldn't quite erase that horrible feeling of shame at the way he had yelled at El.

"It wasn't his fault, either," Dustin countered.

Mike stopped and turned to look at his friend incredulously. 'It wasn't his fault?" He echoed with a frown.

"No."

"So you're saying he wasn't way out of line?"

"Totally, but so were you!".

Despite how often he had also told himself internally that he was to blame, Mike couldn't help but feel defensive. "What?"

"And so was Eleven," Dustin added.

So basically they were all to blame except Dustin? Mike snorted. "Oh, give me a break!"

Dustin had clearly had enough and stepped forward to yell, "No, Mike, you give me a break! All three of you were being a bunch of little assholes! I was the only reasonable one. But the bottom line is... you pushed first. And you know the rule. You draw first blood…"

Mike stepped back and crossed his arms with a look of disgust. "No! No way! I'm not shaking his hand!"

"You're shaking his hand!" Dustin repeated threateningly.

"No, I'm not."

"This isn't a discussion. This is the rule of law. Obey or be banished from the party. Do you wanna be banished?"

"No," Mike whined. Damn those party rules he had agreed to.

"Good." Dustin hastily turned to retrieve his jacket.

Mike stared at his friend in confusion before loudly asking, still with an attitude, "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think? We're going to get Lucas." Dustin pulled his arms through his jacket sleeves and tossed Mike's backpack at him, almost hitting him. "And then we're gonna find Eleven."

Mike sighed heavily. He was really starting to feel like he wasn't the leader anymore.

He was sitting in his bedroom, gazing vacantly out the window, when he had felt it again. Distress and kinetic energy. Something was definitely going on with Eleven, and he was starting to consider that she might not be able to handle it on her own.

Luckily, as he was awake, he could investigate with ease.

Closing his eyes and focusing, he found himself transported to the In-Between. He approached the crouched figure of the little girl. Eleven was staring down at the ground, examining something, with a blonde wig in her hand. Her heavy breathing and furrowed brow indicated that she was struggling emotionally. As she slowly raised her hand to touch her face, her focus not leaving the ground, he realized that she must have been looking at her reflection in a body of water.

Carefully examining her face, He attempted to locate any signs of damage. Eleven didn't appear to be injured, so this was likely an identity crisis or sorts. That was something that she could handle on her own, and so he left the In-Between, opening his eyes back in his room.

He stood up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, opening a cabinet near the sink. A sigh escaped his lips as he scanned the empty shelves. With everything going on that week, he had forgotten to make sure he had more food. He closed the wooden doors and walked back to his room before throwing open the closet and pulling out one of the outfits he had already planned.

He had formulated a plan after waking up on how to move forward.

Since his Byers-centric dreamwalking had started, his view of the world and where he fit in it had rapidly changed. The experience with the multidimensional beast the night prior had also galvanized him in his resolve. Starting that day, he would no longer be alone.

It was decided that he would make a friend.

The only thing left for him to do was to decide how to go about executing that plan. And he needed to come up with an answer by that evening. Luckily, he had set aside the morning to reflect on his options and he planned on spending the time he had left after acquiring sustenance doing just that. But first things first.

The book he had recently read on making a great first impression insisted that one should always dress to impress.

He walked out into the hallway and over to the large floor length mirror hanging on the wall at the end. He reflected on his ensemble, an oversized black and white graphic-pattern button down and a pair of tight black sweats. Below them were two mismatched socks, rolled over his pants and slipped inside of a pair of black sneakers. Upon a second once-over, he realized one final detail was missing. On the way out of the hall, he grabbed a black bowler hat with a technicolor scarf wrapped around it from the coat rack in the entryway and placed it on his head, tilting it at a backwards angle on his crown.

And with that the look was complete.

He had recently seen similar apparel in a trendy magazine, and was certain that the image depicted what people of influence and appeal dressed like. He grabbed his empty wallet and headed out the door, ready to tackle the day.

Mike and Dustin rode their bikes up the curved driveway of a neat, blue house, the latter insisting that they get Lucas and set off on their journey, the former dreading having to admit his part in their fight. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Lucas wouldn't forgive him so easily.

He rang the doorbell and waited for Lucas to answer the door, turning to look at Dustin briefly before turning back when the door finally opened. Lucas stood in front of them, face glum as he glared first at Mike, then at Dustin, then back at Mike.

"What do you want?" Lucas spat.

Hostility it was. Mike scowled at the busy-browed boy. If Lucas wanted to act that way, then his apology could go screw itself. He felt a slap on his shoulder and he shot Dustin a scandalized look. His friend stared back expecantaly and he let out a deep, reluctant sigh.

"I drew first blood, so…" He begrudgingly stuck out his hand to Lucas, who merely stared at it, unimpressed, before flashing him the same expression of reluctance.

When the boy spun around and stomped back inside, they had no choice but to follow. In the Sinclair's living room, Mike watched with Dustin as Lucas paced back and forth. He was just about to tell Dustin they were leaving when Lucas suddenly stopped.

"Okay, I'll shake." Lucas said, thumbs in his pockets.

Finally! Mike glanced at Dustin, who grinned joyfully, and he thrust out his hand again.

Lucas crossed his arms and added, "On one condition. We forget the weirdo and go straight to the gate."

"Then the deal's off!" Mike dropped his hand, temple throbbing.

"Fine!" Lucas screamed, throwing his hand in the air.

"Fine!" Mike screamed back.

"No, no, not fine! Guys, seriously?" Dustin huffed in annoyance. Mike glared at Lucas as he walked over to the window, when suddenly Dustin grabbed Mike and spun him around. "Do you even remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?"

Mike traded looks with Lucas but found that his friend seemed just as clueless as he was. He turned back to Dustin and shrugged.

Dustin sighed, clearly appalled, and glared at the two of them. "We couldn't agree on what path to take, so we split up the party and those trolls took us out one by one. And it all went to shit. And we were all disabled! So we stick together, no matter what!"

Mike looked between his two friends before staring blankly into space and considering what Dustin had said. But.. it wasn't his fault that Lucas wanted to split the party up!

"Yeah, I agree," Lucas replied. Mike narrowed his as Lucas pointed repeatedly to the floor. "But this is the party, right here in this room."

"El, is one of us now," Mike retorted. He was also pretty sure they wouldn't be able to find Will without her.

Clearly deciding his ego was more important than Will, Lucas shook his head. "Um, no, she's not. Not even close! Never will be! She's a liar, a traitor-"

Mike had listened as Lucas began counting off Eleven's offenses on his fingers, but he decided to interrupt, desperate to make him understand her the way he had come to. "She was just trying to keep us safe! She didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident!"

"An accident?" Lucas asked, head pushed forward.

Yeah, Mike thought it was pretty obvious that El had been trying to defend him when she accidentally launched Lucas like cannonball. He nodded to indicate as such.

Again, Dustin tried to mediate them. "All right, accident or not…admit it, it was a little awesome."

A cannonball! How did Lucas not think that was cool? Mike would have clapped if it hadn't been his friend that had been the cannonball.

Lucas threw his hands up. "Awesome?"

"Yeah, she threw you in the air with her mind!" A wide-eyed Dustin reminded him.

"I could have been killed!" Lucas cried out, a bit dramatically in Mike's opinion.

Okay, so Lucas had gone flying like a paper weight. It wasn't a big deal. Besides… "Which is exactly why we need her," Mike replied. "She's a weapon! Do you seriously wanna fight the Demogorgan with your wrist rocket? That's like R2-D2 going to fight Darth Vader. We're no use to Will if we're dead."

"If you two wanna waste your time looking for a traitor, go ahead," Lucas spat. "Cause I'm not spending my time on her anymore. No way! I'm going to the gate. I'm gonna find Will."

Lucas was easily the most stubborn one in their Party. Mike had tried to tell Dustin, but he wouldn't listen. He and Dustin were shoved to the side as Lucas stalked between them and exited the room. He scowled, turning to look at the crest-fallen Dustin.

It wasn't like they needed Lucas anyway.

He was standing in one of the frozen food aisles of the local grocery store when he noticed an abrupt shift in the atmosphere. The ambient conversation chatter in the store come to a grinding halt, before being replaced by a new and sudden tension in the air. And it wasn't because of the outfit that he had clearly misjudged when dressing that morning.

He often received stares or nasty comments when out in public, so he paid no mind to the criticism at first. He honestly didn't mind the clothing, and no amount of cries about how garish he looked and how flamboyant his appearance was would change that. He had intended to ignore the strange shift in the store, but his attention was captured by the question he suddenly heard nearby, and the tone of voice at which he had heard it.

"Are you lost?"

Hawkins was a rather boring town, with little excitement in the way of abnormal behavior, outside of his own. Hearing a man's voice filled with both concern and judgement had peaked his interest.

Holding his small shopping basket in his hand, he slowly made his way over to where the current aisle he was in intersected with the produce section, peaking around the corner to investigate. He observed a tall middle-aged man in a blue vest standing next to a festive display of goods with a female employee. The man was presumably the manager, and he was addressing a young girl in a pink dress and blue jacket with a buzz-cut.

"Is your mom here?" The man asked. The girl in the dress turned to the man, and he was afforded a good look at her face.

It was her. Eleven.

They were actually in the same place, physically. He hadn't intended for this to happen. He had been keeping tabs on Eleven from afar, of course, but he had decided days ago it was best if they stayed separate. Best for her and best for him.

"Your dad?" The man tried once more, staring unblinkingly at the girl.

He didn't quite appreciate what he heard in the man's mind, words like 'homeless' and 'dirty' echoing out at him. The man waited for Eleven to speak, and when she did, what she said was not what he or the workers expected.

"Mouth breather," Eleven replied dismissively before turning away from the man. That was a rather strange insult in his opinion. Did not everyone breathe using their mouth?

The manager frowned, flabbergasted. Apparently the sentiment of the insult was not lost on the manager. He noticed the girl walk down the aisle parallel to him, and out of his line of sight. The sound of a door opening and boxes being rummaged through followed shortly.

"What should we do?" One of the employees asked the manager as they watched whatever Eleven was doing.

"Uh…" The manager furrowed his brows. "Call the police."

Appearing out of nowhere, Eleven stalked past him and the two workers with several boxes of waffles clutched to her chest, making a beeline for the exit without paying. He couldn't blame her, he knew there was little chance that she understood the intricacies of capitalism or petty theft. If not for his unique gifts, he likely wouldn't have known about them either.

"Excuse me," the manager called after her. "Young lady! You know you have to pay for those!"

His eyes shifted away from Eleven and over to the two employees. It was clear the manager meant to give chase, but he wasn't going to let that happen.

He had limited avenues at his disposal to take without raising any eyebrows. He didn't want to physically intervene, as that would both draw too much attention and alert Eleven of his presence. And the manager suddenly allowing the girl to leave without purchasing the goods would be too uncharacteristic and draw suspicion of the employees. He could always ensure that everyone had a shift in demeanor, but that seemed like unnecessary effort on his part. He looked to his left and observed a woman shopping for food with her kids on the same aisle as him. After a brief moment of consideration, he decided that she would just have to do.

The woman abruptly walked out of the aisle, pushing her cart directly in front of the manager and blocking the man's path to Eleven. The manager stumbled into the cart, startling the woman pushing it. Just that small moment of distraction was all the girl needed to gain distance on the man.

"I'm so sorry!" The woman said, audibly confused.

He and the woman's children stared at the manager as the man pushed the cart out of the way, rudely disregarding the apology and stammering after Eleven, "You - you have to pay for those! Stop right there! Thief! Thief!"

The manager started to jog towards the girl. But when she exited the store, Eleven used her mind to slam the sliding doors of the entrance with such force that the glass shattered. She had clearly gained more control since they had last met.

His head titled as he watched Eleven march away with her boxes of waffles without so much as a backward glance. It occurred to him at that moment that he had never eaten waffles. He would have to try them sometime. And speaking of some time, it was time for him to go. The police would be coming and he wanted no part in that.

He carried his basket to the open register at the front, ignoring the employees panicking over the glass and the manager running to call the authorities. He waited as the cashier rang up his items, staring out the window and seeing Eleven finally disappear in the distance.

"18.67 is your total. Cash or card?" The attendant asked while she finished up bagging his groceries.

"I already provided you with payment," he replied.

"I'm sorry?" He turned his gaze back to her, locking their eyes together. A glassy expression flashed across her face and she smiled blankly at him, nodding. "Of course, sir, I apologize. You have a wonderful day. Thank you for shopping at Bradley's Big Buy."

She zeroed out the register and started ringing up the next customer as normal. Grabbing his bags, he exited the store, crunching carelessly over the shards of glass and listening to the sound of the sirens approaching in the distance.

Steve woke up to the sound of something from the first floor of his house ringing non-stop. He stumbled into the hallway and carefully dragged himself downstairs to locate the noise. The fog in his head began to clear as he spotted the phone on the wall at the bottom of the steps. Braving what seemed like an insurmountable distance, he finally stopped the ringing and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Stevie!" Tommy shouted happily into the phone, making him flinch away from the speaker. The freckled teen's loud voice carried enough that he could still hear clearly when Tommy said, "Daylight's wasting, man. Get your ass over here and pick us up!"

"What?" Steve asked, trying to get his scrambled brain to go back to normal. "What time is it?" He didn't get an answer right away. Instead he heard the sound of the phone being fumbled and people arguing before Carol's voice suddenly came over the line.

"Who cares?" She replied. "We have the goods, so throw something on and get it moving!"

He didn't get the chance to ask any more questions, the line abruptly going dead and a dial tone replacing Carol's voice. He sighed heavily and dragged his body up the stairs, trying to figure out what his friends were talking about. As he slipped on some light blue jeans, it came back to him.

When he had made it back to the car the night before and told his friends what he had seen through Nancy's window, they had immediately begun to plot. Despite their shortcomings, Tommy and Carol were loyal, and they knew when to fall in line and protect the leader of the pack.

Pack leader being Steve, of course.

Tommy had insisted that he not worry about a thing, instead telling him that he should just take a load off and spend the night drinking some beer and listening to music or something. So that was exactly what he had done. And if his father never noticed the bottle of whiskey missing from his liquor cabinet, well... what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Steve had drank himself rather stupid, ending up passed out on the floor of the living room as the Police softly played in the background on the radio.

He finished getting ready and ran back downstairs, grabbing his keys off the hook and leaving to go grab his friends. As soon as he arrived Tommy showed him the cans of red spray paint and Carol reminded him of the movie currently playing at the Hawk. They piled into his car and, despite his hangover, he felt a rush of vindication.

And as Steve drove to the movie theater to set the plan in motion, he tried not to think about the feeling in the pit of his stomach or the fact that Tommy gleefully offered to do the honors.

A/N: We finally get a glimpse of what exactly our mystery character can do! And fun fact, if you go back and look at his sections in the story you will see hints of it through the language used.

His identity (which should be fairly obvious but I like the fun of keeping it hidden still) will also be clearly revealed in either next chapter or the one after.

Until our stars next align!