[billy, 18]

Everything outside of Billy was too bright, too loud, and too fast. Everything inside of him felt...like nothing he could remember. Living with the Mind Flayer latched to his brain and imprinted onto his soul made it so hard to be himself. Every movement that was his, everything thought that belonged to Billy alone, had to be dragged through to the surface akin to trying to walk through sludge with your feet getting caught each step of the way.

So when it was suddenly gone the pain took over tenfold. There's a rush to saying things that are his, sharing what he feels, apologies and regret pouring out with relieved abandon.

It's all overwhelming.

Later in the hospital, when he's patched up and had about six hours of bone weary sleep, Billy wakes up and discovers the dark side of surviving. Memories. He can remember every single atrocity he committed. Mind flayer or not, Billy's hands were stained with blood. He could see it, he could smell it, even, and within minutes of true consciousness the constricting weighed of guilt had him panicked enough that he just couldn't breathe, he couldn't catch his breath, and not long after he had to be held down and sedated.

When he woke up in the morning, there was Neil standing at the foot of his bed, hands on his hips. He looked as if he expected Billy to have greeted him with a welcome party as soon as he got here. Billy shut his eyes again, was greeted by a mirage of the terrified expressions of his victims, and wished the Mind Flayer had just taken him as well.

"They said you woke up last night thinking you were still in the fire," he said, all judgment, "You still seeing things?"

Billy couldn't think, didn't know the right answer to that, and only shook his head when he thought he was taking too long to answer.

How pathetic was this? Billy guessed it made sense though, for a piece of shit like him to end up surviving the possession of some otherworldly hell monster only to be finished off by his arguable bigger piece of shit Dad.

He knew he needed to keep his eyes open to pretend he was paying attention, but it was easy to slip into a disinterested trance. Neil rambled, getting closer and voice dropping the longer he talked. Billy wondered how long it would take for Neil to feign an interest in checking that the dressing on his side was in good shape, only to press at the covered wound bard enough to be satisfied once it was obvious he was causing some pain. Neil would let one corner of his mouth turn up, like he could have his how pleased he was about it but wanted Billy to know that he liked being in control of how much pain he was in.

Billy hated that smile. It was why – whether he was being a dick or not – he either smiled widely, or not at all.

" - because if you think I'll be forking out the money for you to enjoy another night here in the deluxe suite, you've - "

Neil took another step closer, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes now. Billy wished he knew it would help if he said that he'd pay, except his Dad thought he'd been blowing the money he'd been making at the pool. Hoping to be able to move out as soon as possible, the truth was that Billy had been quietly saving every penny he could manage. But now?

Two short raps on his hospital room door was the only short warning they got before it swung open. Neil stopped short in the middle of whatever thing he'd been bitching about, and Billy, hoping it was the nurse with more pain medication, forced his heavy eyelids open again.

It wasn't the nurse.

In full Hawkins Police uniform with his hat clutched in one hand, was the weird, aged version of Harrington he had hallucinated at the mall the night before. Squeezing his eyes shut to reset his brain, Billy opened them to the disappointment that it had done nothing to shake the vision. The deputy was looking at him oddly before his gaze shifted to Neil, and Billy merely shut his eyes again.

This couldn't mean anything good.

"Can I help you, Officer..." Neil trailed off.

"Summers," the deputy's voice even sounded something like Harrington's, and it felt purposeful when he didn't offer Neil a hand to shake, "I'm just here to see how Billy's doing. Are you well enough for a visitor?"

Summers wasn't even looking at Neil anymore, instead eyeing Billy in a way that felt like he was asking more than what he'd said. Shifting in the bed, Billy tried to find a way to say that he didn't want to have to talk to someone while he was hallucinating their face, but Neil had an answer ready before he could figure out how.

"My boy's never had any friends on the force," Neil said, and Summers' jaw clenched. Interesting.

"I'm not here because I'm his friend," Summers stated plainly as he reached over to push the door to the room open again, "I'm escorting the girl Billy saved last night. She wanted to thank him in person."

The words hit him like kick to the stomach, and it took a moment to remember how to breathe in again.

"Yeah, that's - " Billy cleared his throat, staring hard at the doorway as a girl hobbled in with a crutch tucked under a shoulder.

"Billy," she stated her greeting, sparing barely a glance for his Dad.

"Hi," Billy managed, wide-eyed and head pounding, "You're...upright."

She didn't laugh, but it looked like it was a close thing. Unsure what to expect and hardly able to think straight, Billy kept his expression guarded even as he maintained eye contact with her. This girl was as much a stranger to him as she was intimately familiar with his dearest memories.

"Can I sit?" Curly asked, eyes on him before shifting to Deputy Summers.

The policeman nodded and moved to pick up the chair Neil had ignored, placing it at Billy's bedside. The girl thanked him and then shuffled forward to perch on the edge of the chair. Billy watched as she leaned her crutch against his bed.

"Why don't we give the kids a minute to talk?" Summers asked. The way he stood pointedly holding the door open meant that he had just found a nicer way of telling Neil to get out of the room. It took his Dad another moment to catch on, and all he did when he finally understood was mutter something under his breath and storm out of the room. Summers offered one more tip that was obviously meant for Billy before he stepped out of the room;

"Be nice, okay?"

A memory hit him the moment the door closed behind Summers. He was holding her down while she cried, terrified. She struggled to move, struggled to breathe as he gripped her throat, the soft flesh giving easily. The Mind Flayer might have had control of him in that moment, but the monster's taste for it had spilled over, there was nauseating power in the dominating of human fragility, addictive in a way that only something that you know will ruin you can be.

Any curiosity he had about her cowered to guilt. His expression darkened with sudden anger, anyone who felt they could trust him enough to be alone with after all he did was out of their mind.

"What do you want?"

Curly didn't say much, barely even shrugged. Billy squeezed one hand around the call bell, trying to avoid crossing his arms, and taking solace in knowing that he could get a nurse in here quickly if he couldn't take it any more. Once glance showed him exactly where the bruise marks around her neck were waiting to mock him. His hands burned and his stomach flipped.

"I'm not going to apologize again," he told her. Even if he was sorry, he didn't think he could spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it.

Curly's head shook. "Not here for apology." And then, "You remember last night?"

"It's...bubbly. From the pain, but – I think so," he rumbled, voice scratchy.

"I could feel what you felt, on the beach," she told him, and Billy heaved a sigh, head falling back to his pillow, "And after, when you came back. When you stopped it."

His eyes burned when he finally met her gaze. She didn't appear to be judging him, afraid of him, or feeling sorry for him, she was just...looking at him.

"I already know. You don't owe me anything. Maybe just try to be nicer to my friend, okay? Before, Max said you're really big - " she paused for a moment, as if she had to prepare herself to continue, " - asshole?"

He didn't understand. His heart raced, his eyes watered as he stared, but no amount of repeating her words in his head helped him to understand any better. The girl frowned, leaned forward, and raised her voice a little.

"Be a smaller asshole, Billy," she ordered sternly, and finally he gave a short, wet laugh.

"You're crazy," he replied, his way of warning her that it was wrong to be letting him off the hook.

"Yes," she nodded, too serious, "Less, now. My name is Jane."

Billy had always been the sort to laugh at the most inappropriate times. This time the urge was lost to how important this moment felt. He nodded once.

"I won't make any promises, Jane," he croaked shakily, "But, I'll try."

"Good," Jame nodded, quiet for a minute before she had something else to add, "Don't have to be someone you think you have to."

Suddenly it was too much, and Billy couldn't look her in the eye anymore. The moment dragged on, and he raced to find something to say before she could him any more of his soft spots. His entire chest throbbed, but he ignore it for now.

"Was Summers really there last night?" he blurted, curiosity winning out in his desperate search for a topic. Jane's eyes widened.

"Steve? Yes."

"No," Billy shook his head, "Not Harrington. This guy, Deputy Summers."

Jane's sudden grim expression weighed like a rock in his stomach.

"Steve Harrington came through the gate from the future. He pulled that Mind Flayer baby out of your chest. He goes by Steve Summers now. He says Hopper isn't dead, just lost," Jane stated plainly, but understanding it was another story. Billy almost instinctively accused her of fucking with him before it hit him that she said something about Hopper being dead.

"That's fucked," is what came out in the end. Jane looked vaguely disapproving but didn't comment. How could she when she looked that damn sad? He felt like shit and he had no idea what to say, so he kept quiet and let his gaze drift toward the window.

"You know who made the first tear into the Upside Down?" Jane's question made no sense, and she elaborated without any prompting, "Made it possible for them to think they could control a gate? Me. My fault. All of those deaths. My fault."

Billy didn't know what to say to that, either. All he could manage to do was look at her without pity, and that seemed enough for Jane.

"So, yeah," Jane sighed, "Fucked."

When Summers - or future Steve or whoever the hell he was - popped his head back into the room, they might have been smiling at each other. Just a little.

That afternoon after he's had lunch and they've changed the bandage at his side and made sure there still weren't any signs of infection, they handed him prescriptions for a small grocery list of medications and told him to go home and take it easy. Billy had refused when they'd offered to call his Dad, told them he'd made other arrangements to get home. He hadn't, but there was a Hawkins police cruiser sitting out front of the hospital anyway.

"Need a ride, Hargrove?" Summers asked, looking like he knew the answer already, "Free of charge."

Billy hadn't taken more than maybe thirty steps on his own and his side was already killing him, his breathing heavy and forehead damp from the effort. Still.

"Nothing's free in this world," he replied suspiciously.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to a little conversation," Summers drawled, eyebrows drawn together pointedly. He knew exactly what sort of conversation he wanted to have with Billy.

Two could play at that game. Billy reached a hand out to the top of the cruiser by Summers' open window and leaned.

"We're going to stop somewhere you can buy me two packs of cigarettes," he said, final offer, and the dark smile on his lips never reached his eyes.

"Get in before I change my mind," Summers grumbled.

Although it was such a small thing, Billy felt like it gave some of his power back. By the time he had slid into the passenger's seat and shut the door closed, his smile had twisted into a smirk.

"So, Deputy Su - "

"Chief, actually," Summers corrected, and Billy's eyebrows narrowed in his direction. How the hell had he pulled that off? The man continued before he could ask about it, "Temporarily. Until Hopper gets back."

"Where you from?" Billy finally finished his intended question rather cheerily. He figured his best bet was to deal with this guy the way he dealt with most adults who weren't his meathead father – charm their socks off.

"El told me she briefed you about me," Summers frowned, glancing over as he turned the key over in the ignition and the engine sputtered to life.

"El?"

"Yeah, El," Summers lifted an eyebrow, "Jane?"

"Oh. That's a weird nickname for Jane," Billy observed.

"Did she or did she not tell you my origin story?" Summers prompted, having none of the small talk. He was making it really hard to keep up the charm.

"Considering the circumstances, it's pretty shitty of you to convince the kids you're from the future," Billy stated, forcing a chuckle, "Funny as hell, but kinda cruel."

He should know, he thought to himself, since he was basically a staple preteen's villain at this point. Summers merely sighed, frustrated.

"You didn't believe her," Summers recognized, "Shit. You're going to make it difficult every step of the way, aren't you?"

After pulling out of the parking spot, Summers spared him a look of disgust before he punched at the gas pedal. Fuck, but trying to stay upright when his ribs were ripped to shit and there was a maniac in the driver's seat was a nightmare.

"Is there anywhere else I can bring you rather than to your parents'?" Summers asked, after mumbling under his breath.

"What?" Billy frowned, itching to ask why he'd even ask that question, "Just bring me home, Officer."

"Does your Dad hold back while you're healing?" Summers asked plainly, the question settling heavily into the air around them.

"What the fuck?" He breathed, all attempts to pull anything charming forgotten.

"I know he's a dirtbag and I know he hits you, okay? Just...try to get over it, because we need to make arrangements to get you out of there so that - "

Panicked and half convinced he had somehow started hallucinating again along the way, Billy laughed darkly, "I don't know what the hell you think you heard, but - "

"Give it up, Billy. I know, okay?" Summers wouldn't budge, knuckles white where they clutched the steering wheel. "The first time around, Neil blamed Max for your death and it took all of us way too long to notice that he'd started on her. I still don't get why either of you would put up with that and let him get away with being an absolute shithole."

"He's never put his grubby hands on Max, I've made sure of it," Billy growled, one hand bracing his side, the other squeezing hard at his thigh. The guy was just unbelievable.

"Yeah, well, apparently when you died he made up for lost time," Summers just wasn't letting up.

"Why do you keep goddamn saying 'when you die'," Billy pressed, barely able to catch his breath.

"God, did they check you for brain damage while you were in there?" Summers drawled, and then his tone sharpened, "That thing you just survived killed you, originally. I was sent back to this time in order to make sure you stayed alive."

"Oh, I get it," Billy sucked in a breath, ears ringing in confused anger, "You think I'm in your debt or some shit, now."

"It's not that," Summers said, even though his expression suggested he thought that was part of it even if he wasn't admitting it now, "But there's gotta be – I mean, you've got to do something to make it all worth it. Why the hell else would you living be the only big change to bring about a world that might defeat those monsters?"

Billy could feel himself shake. This Summers guy was certifiably insane. And Billy? Billy didn't do well with expectations, he knew most of them were made expecting that he'd fail. An excuse to show how much of a useless piece of shit he was. It hurt to breathe, but it would hurt more to buckle to the show of power.

"Should have just listened to your gut and let that thing skewer me," he grovelled, upper lip curling, "I didn't ask you to distract that thing, and just because you did doesn't make me your pet."

"That's not what - "

"Just bring me home."

"Will you just listen - "

"Forget the smokes and drive me home, Summers," Billy told him, hoping to God he would listen because he thought he might actually spontaneously combust if he didn't. He could feel himself shaking all the way down to his bones, and couldn't even tell at that point if it was because of the pain or because of all the shit Summers was so insistent about. Staring unblinkingly ahead was the only way he managed the rest of the quiet ride to his house, his eyes stung enough to distract himself until the car slowed and he could finally climb out.

Three hours later there was a knock at his bedroom door.

"It's me," he could recognize Max's muffled voice through the thin wooden door, "Can I come in?"

Billy grunted without moving. He had managed to turn some music on when he'd first gotten home, but hadn't even shifted from where he'd flopped onto his back on the bed. He tracked Max's movement without lifting his head, glad that she came close enough so that he could see her face without straining his neck.

"These were in the mailbox with your name on them," Max held up two packs of cigarettes, "Who do you think - "

"Don't want 'em," he told her, gaze shifting back to the ceiling. It was a shitty lie since he wanted them badly, but if Summers had left them there as some sort of peace offering he didn't want to accept them in case the Chief would think it meant he was easing into the idea of whatever self-improvement shit he was trying to force on him.

"Dad called an hour ago and asked if you were home yet," Max continued, not meeting his eyes, "he wanted you to have dinner ready when he came home."

Billy closed his eyes, jaw clenching.

"I've got a pasta casserole in the oven. I'll set the table in a minute. Do you think you can make it out there in a half an hour to eat with us?" Max asked.

"I'm not a charity case," Billy replied, unable to reconcile this side of Max when he'd spent so long being a bastard to her and her friends.

"You also probably shouldn't even be home from the hospital yet," Max rolled her eyes, set the cigarettes on his dresser, and turned away, "Stop being an ass hole when I'm just being a decent person."

Shit, Billy hated this. Not only was it pathetic to feel this indebted to so many fucking preteens, but he was far too useless to even start trying to make up for any of his jackassery. But he was stuck here, immobile on his bed and scowling at the ceiling, and that was worse than any of it, wasn't it? Max was a tough kid, and he'd just promised Jane that -

"Hey," he called, eyes shut tight. Figuring that Max was still there since he hadn't heard the telltale click of his door shutting, Billy continued on in an attempt to ease the suffocating feeling of owing someone, "You're a good kid."

Silence. And then;

"Not a kid anymore," Max replied, the statement holding more sorrow than indigence, "Your prescriptions were filled and left in the mailbox, too. I'll bring you a pill and some water."

Billy grunted in acknowledgement, heart hammering. He was unable to pinpoint how he felt any more, and had even less of an idea how he was supposed to be feeling. The only thing he did know was that it was necessary to keep repeating to himself until he believed it that it was okay to be grateful, because he was grateful. Maybe not to be alive, not yet. But for Max not giving up on him, that was pretty coolof her.