A gentle nudge stirred Dove from her sleep. She blinked, disoriented for a moment, before realizing she was still in the Wheelers' basement. Max was crouched beside her, her expression soft but with a hint of urgency.
"Hey," Max whispered. "Come upstairs with me?"
Dove glanced around, noting the others sprawled out asleep around them. Steve was still leaning against the wall beside her, his arm draped protectively over her shoulders as he snored quietly. She shifted carefully, sliding out from under his arm to avoid waking him. After a last glance at his sleeping face, she turned her attention to Max and nodded.
"Yeah, sure," she murmured, pushing herself up.
The two crept upstairs, the house bathed in the soft, pale light of early morning. The kitchen was already alive with the sound of sizzling batter as Mrs. Wheeler flipped pancakes over the stove. Mr. Wheeler sat at the kitchen counter, engrossed in his newspaper, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.
Mrs. Wheeler turned at the sound of their footsteps and smiled warmly. "Good morning, girls. Just in time," she said, motioning toward the stack of pancakes she'd prepared.
"Well, well," Mr. Wheeler lowered his newspaper just enough to give them a pointed look over the rim of his glasses. "seems like you're all becoming regulars around here. If I'd known we'd be feeding a small army, I'd have started budgeting differently."
Dove managed a polite smile, though she felt Max tense beside her. Mrs. Wheeler shot her husband a look as she set down a fresh stack of pancakes on the table.
"Honey, an extra carton of milk is hardly a national emergency," she chided, flashing a smile at Dove and Max. "Eat up, girls. You need your energy."
Max exchanged a knowing look with Dove, rolling her eyes just enough to make her point. They both sat, grateful for the familiar comfort of a warm breakfast and Mrs. Wheeler's generosity. Dove served herself a small stack of pancakes and leaned in to Max, speaking just above a whisper.
"We should probably get Mr. Wheeler a 'Thank you for feeding the army' mug next time we're here," she joked.
Max stifled a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Better make it a large one. He'll need extra coffee."
Mr. Wheeler peered at Dove and Max over the edge of his paper, his expression stern but with a flicker of amusement lingering in his eyes, as if he'd caught their whispered banter and didn't mind it as much as he pretended.
Max glanced up at Holly across the table, who was scribbling on a piece of paper. "Can I draw with you?" She asked.
Holly looked up at her, as if surprised she acknowledged her existence and nodded, sliding over a few pieces of paper and some crayons.
Max selected a black crayon and immediately began to draw, her hand moving in steady, focused strokes. Dove chewed slowly, distracted from her breakfast as she watched Max's drawing take shape on the page.
It didn't take long for recognition to strike her. The outline, the jagged edges, the twisted sense of brokenness—Dove's stomach dropped as she realized she'd seen that image before. It was the same fractured house from her vision, the splintered structure she'd seen hovering in the Upside Down.
Her pulse quickened, and she set her fork down, swallowing hard. "Max.." Dove's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the image. "Where did you see this?"
Max hesitated, her hand pausing mid-stroke, before she looked up and admitted quietly, "When Vecna had me.. in the cemetery.. this is where I was." She studied Dove's face, the slightest hint of fear creeping in. "You recognize it, don't you?"
Dove's heart dropped, and the alarm must have shown on her face because Max's gaze turned sharp and questioning.
Dove nodded, unsure if she trusted her voice not to betray her. "This.. this is where I went during my last vision. It's the same place." She looked back down at the fractured house Max had sketched, the familiar cracks and darkened lines making her stomach twist. "I saw it just like this."
Max's face paled, and she gripped the crayon tightly, her fingers pressing down hard enough to crack it. "Then it's real?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's not just in my head?"
Dove nodded, a chill settling over her. "No, Max. Whatever this place is.. it's real."
The two girls locked eyes, each understanding the terror the other felt, both now bound by the dark, looming threat that seemed to always be watching them.
A sudden burst of footsteps pulled them from the heavy silence, and both Dove and Max looked up as Nancy and Dustin rushed into the kitchen. As Nancy spotted Dove and Max, a flicker of relief softened her tense expression, and her shoulders seemed to ease slightly.
Mrs. Wheeler glanced over, sensing something was off, her brow creased with concern. "Morning, guys. Everything okay?" she asked, her voice warm yet probing, her gaze softening with motherly worry as it moved over Nancy's face.
Nancy shot a quick look at Max before responding, clearly trying to keep her tone casual. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's okay," she replied, though her voice held a hint of nerves she couldn't quite hide.
"I think it's so sweet that you guys are sticking together like this." Mrs. Wheeler continued, her tone light as she returned to her cooking, perhaps trying to ease the unspoken tension.
"Could try sticking together at a different house for a change," Mr. Wheeler muttered from behind his newspaper, barely looking up.
Mrs. Wheeler let out a soft sigh, shooting her husband a mild look before turning back to Dustin as Nancy moved toward the table. "You know you're welcome here anytime," she said kindly.
"Totally," Dustin agreed, giving her a grateful grin. "You're like family." He pointed at the plate of pancakes. "May I?"
"Absolutely," Mrs. Wheeler replied, handing him a plate.
"Yeah, why not?" Mr. Wheeler set down his cup just long enough to give them all a sidelong glance. "Take us for all we're worth," he mumbled, half amused, before taking another sip of coffee.
Dustin smiled at him. "Okay."
Nancy took a seat next to Max, her gaze softening as she looked down at the scattered drawings.
Max looked up with a faint smile, meeting Nancy's eyes. "Hey," she said, her voice carrying a touch of weariness.
"Hey." Nancy returned the greeting gently, her voice lined with concern. "You okay?" Her eyes flickered to Dove briefly, as though silently checking if she knew more.
Dove's gaze shifted to Max, wondering how much she would share, but Max shrugged. "Just couldn't sleep. People kept blasting music in my ears, for some reason." She rolled her eyes a bit but smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
Nancy smiled at this, a small laugh slipping out despite the tension in the air.
Max continued, "But Holly let me borrow some of her crayons. We've been having a fun morning, right, Holly?"
Holly, engrossed in her own drawing, didn't even glance up as she mumbled, "Mmhmm." The simple, absentminded response made Max smile, and Nancy chuckled, the small moment of levity settling some of the tension in the air.
Nancy's fingers traced over Max's drawings, her brow furrowing as she took in the details. "Is this what you saw last night?" she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper.
Max nodded, looking down at the paper with a distant expression. "It's supposed to be. I thought it would be easier to draw it out than to explain, but.." She trailed off, her frustration evident as she shrugged.
Nancy pulled one of the drawings closer, and Dove leaned in to look as well. The sight twisted something deep within her chest—a haunting image of two bodies, Chrissy and Fred, their limbs tangled and trapped in strange, twisted red vines.
Max's voice broke through the silence, laced with quiet horror. "It was like they were on display or something," she murmured. "And there was this red fog everywhere." She paused, the tremor in her voice making it clear she was still haunted by the memory. "It was like a dream. A nightmare."
Dove's hand instinctively reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper as she swallowed hard. She exchanged a glance with Nancy, both of them feeling the weight of what Max had witnessed.
Nancy leaned forward, her gaze sharp as she tried to piece everything together. "Do you think Vecna's just trying to scare you?" she asked, her tone hushed.
Max's fingers tightened on the edge of her drawing. "With Billy? Yeah," she replied, looking down. "But when I made it here.. I dunno, something was different. He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn't want me there."
Dove's eyes flicked up at that. She recalled her own vision—how Vecna seemed to call her into that fractured house, almost as though he wanted her to see it. But Max.. Max hadn't been summoned. She had stumbled into his domain uninvited.
Dustin, now sitting at the table with a mountain of pancakes, leaned in with interest. "Maybe you infiltrated his mind," he suggested between bites, his fork gesturing animatedly. "I mean, he invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?" Dustin asked. "Like Freddy Krueger's boiler room," he added with a grin, clearly fascinated by the idea.
"Freddy Krueger?" Holly piped up from the end of the table. The group fell silent, as if collectively realizing she was still there, observing their strange conversation.
Dustin leaned over, eager to explain. "He's a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers, and he kills you in your dreams." He said it with enthusiasm, oblivious to the way Holly's eyes grew wide.
"Dustin, seriously?" Nancy shot him a look, horrified.
Dustin crammed another forkful of pancakes into his mouth to avoid further commentary. Dove quickly placed a hand on Holly's shoulder, offering a reassuring smile. "Holly, it's just a story. Freddy Krueger's not real, and everything we're talking about is just from a movie. Isn't that right, guys?" Her gaze moved pointedly to the others, who all nodded in agreement.
Holly looked at the group skeptically before grabbing her crayons and wandering off to the living room, muttering, "Nancy, your friends are weird."
Dove let out a breath and turned back to the group, only to find Dustin staring at her in disbelief. She raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"You just comforted Holly over a horror movie," he said, bewildered.
Dove shrugged. "Uh, yeah, and?"
Dustin threw his hands up. "You made me watch Alien when I was eight! You held my hands down so I couldn't cover my eyes!"
Dove rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. "And now look at you. Three-time world savior. Can you imagine where we would be if I hadn't acclimated you to otherworldly invaders?"
Dustin settled back in his chair, clearly exasperated.
Nancy cleared her throat, anxious to get back to the topic at hand. "Dustin, what is it you were saying about Vecna?"
Dustin sighed and gestured to Max's scattered drawings on the table. "I was saying maybe Max found a backdoor into Vecna's world. Maybe the answers we need are somewhere in here." He picked up one of the drawings, holding it up for emphasis. "In one of these incredibly vague sketches. God, we need Will."
"Yeah, no shit," Max muttered, rolling her eyes. "I tried them again this morning, and it's the same busy signal."
Nancy grabbed the drawing from Dustin's hand, her brow furrowing as she studied it. "Is this a window?" she asked.
Max leaned in, her face softening as she tilted her head to match Nancy's perspective. "Yeah."
"Stained glass with roses," Nancy murmured, her finger tracing over the detail.
"Yeah." Max's gaze hardened as she shared a glance with Dustin. "See? I'm not so terrible after all."
Dustin huffed, but Nancy shook her head, clearly focused as she murmured, "Well, it helps that I've seen it before."
Dove pushed her empty plate to the side, her eyes never leaving the drawings. She felt a quiet unease bubbling up in her chest as Nancy methodically began arranging the pieces, each slip of paper connecting to the next, like the slow revelation of a puzzle hiding something sinister.
As Nancy pieced together the fragments, she grabbed a Sharpie, her hands moving with steady purpose. She carefully outlined the edges, forming a cohesive image as she connected each folded page until it took on the unmistakable shape of a house. With each stroke of the marker, the structure grew more defined, the edges sharper, the sense of looming dread intensifying.
Dove's breath caught as she studied the completed drawing. She recognized the house, not just from her visions. Her mind spun back to memories of bike rides and late-night walks, of the old, abandoned house across town that everyone in Hawkins avoided. The Murder House.
Dove's fingers trembled slightly as they traced the edges of the drawing, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nancy.. this house.. it's real." Her words lingered in the air, heavy with realization and dread. "I've seen it before. Across town, on Morehead Street."
Nancy's nodded, her eyes sharp with recognition. "It's Victor Creel's house," she said, her voice steady but filled with purpose. Without another word, she stood up, her movements brisk and purposeful as she started toward the basement stairs.
Dustin, mid-chew, looked up, blinking in surprise. "Where are you going?" he mumbled around his mouthful.
"To wake the others," Nancy replied firmly, her gaze focused, already two steps ahead in her mind.
Dove's heart pounded in her chest, her legs feeling both heavy and restless. She exchanged a knowing look with Max and Dustin before they quickly fell in line behind Nancy, the urgency of the moment driving them forward.
They hurried down the stairs to the basement, where the others were still asleep, sprawled out on sleeping bags and blankets. Dove crouched down beside Steve, gently nudging his shoulder. He stirred, mumbling something unintelligible, before blinking groggily up at her. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but they softened with concern the moment they focused on her.
"Dove..?" he muttered, voice raspy. "You okay?"
She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Steve sat up a bit straighter, his eyes flicking around the room, scanning for familiar faces. "Is Max okay?"
"Everyone's fine," Dove assured him. "But we found something. We need to go."
Steve nodded, still a little dazed, and started to stretch when Dove smirked, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Oh, and by the way.. you drool in your sleep."
"What?" Steve's eyes widened as he hastily swiped his hand across his mouth, wiping away at nothing. "Are you serious?"
Dove laughed, standing up as Steve scrambled to his feet, looking mildly horrified. He muttered something under his breath about "not drooling" and shot her a half-hearted glare as he followed her toward the others, his embarrassment quickly overshadowed by the growing urgency in the room. They had a destination now, and everyone could feel the tension thickening as they prepared to set off for Victor Creel's house.