The group trudged into the Henderson house, each of them visibly shaken, the events at the Creel house casting a heavy silence over them. They settled into the living room, unfurling blankets and tossing pillows onto the floor as they tried to shake off the lingering unease. Dustin flipped on the TV for background noise, but no one seemed to be paying it any attention.
Dove slipped away to her room, her mind racing with thoughts she could barely keep straight. She entered and spotted Steve's clothes on her bed, neatly folded, waiting for him. She'd barely picked them up when he appeared in her doorway.
He took the pile from her hands, his fingers brushing hers, and mumbled a thanks. His gaze lingered on her face, a flicker of concern crossing his eyes. But he only nodded, giving her a soft smile before retreating to the bathroom to change.
Once the door closed, Dove quickly dressed, pulling on an oversized sweater, then left her room and made her way to the kitchen. She reached for the phone, her hands trembling slightly as she dialed Danny's number, praying he would pick up. She expected Danny's familiar voice but, after a few rings, was greeted instead by an unfamiliar, slightly groggy female voice.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hi," Dove said, caught off guard. "Is Danny there?"
"No, he's.. not here right now," the girl replied, a bit hesitantly.
"Do you know when he'll be back?" Dove's concern edged into her voice.
The girl paused, then answered, "He was supposed to be back two days ago."
"Oh," She swallowed, her mind racing. "Well, if you could.. when he gets in, could you tell him that Dove called?"
"Of course, Dove. I'll let him know," she replied, though her tone sounded a bit unsure.
"Thanks," Dove murmured, the worry thickening in her chest as she slowly hung up, her mind now full of questions.
She released a slow breath, leaning back against the counter, her fingers still nervously brushing over the phone's stepped quietly down the hallway but paused when he saw Dove's tense expression.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
Dove looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah, it's just.. Danny's not answering the phone."
Steve's brow furrowed, and he moved closer, resting a hand on the counter beside her. "He's probably just busy. I'm sure it's no big deal."
Dove bit her lip, searching his face. "What if it's Vecna? What if he's.." She cut herself off, unwilling to say it out loud.
Steve's hand shifted to her shoulder, steady and warm. "There's no way Vecna can reach California. Danny's fine, Dove. I bet you'll hear from him soon."
Dove hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded, feeling a bit of her worry ease. "You're probably right," she murmured, though the unease in her chest lingered.
Steve offered a small, reassuring smile. "Come on, the others are waiting."
They turned and made their way down the hall, feeling the hum of conversation before they even entered the room.
As Dove and Steve stepped into the living room, the scene felt almost surreal in its normalcy, making her chest tighten with unease. Max was sprawled out in the armchair, her eyes closed and headphones on, fingers tapping along to the Kate Bush song she had on repeat. Across from her, Robin was deep in a rant, her eyes fixed mostly on Nancy, as if trying to convince her more than anyone else.
"Look, I'm telling you," she insisted, "Harrison Ford is miles better than Tom Cruise. Raiders of the Lost Ark? Empire Strikes Back?Bladerunner? I mean, come on! The dude's got crazy range."
Lucas and Dustin barely looked up, too engrossed in a shared bag of chips they were demolishing with loud crunches, but Lucas nodded in agreement just to humor her.
Dove followed Steve to the couch and sat beside him, filling in the only two empty spots. The soft glow of a couple of lamps illuminated the room, casting a warm light over everyone, and for a moment, they almost seemed like just a group of friends hanging out on any normal night.
But Dove couldn't shake the uneasy twist in her stomach. This felt too easy—too safe. She glanced around, taking in Max's headphones, Nancy listening intently to Robin's enthusiastic monologue, Dustin and Lucas laughing with crumbs on their shirts—it was almost like they'd forgotten, like none of them realized just how close danger really was.
As Steve settled beside her, he gave her a small nudge, drawing her back to the present. "Hey," he whispered, sensing her tension, "we'll get through this."
Dove nodded, letting out a soft breath, but the weight in her chest remained, pressing heavier against the normalcy surrounding her. For the others, this moment was a reprieve. For her, it felt like a reminder of what she stood to lose.
The nightmare began as it always did—just a chill creeping over her skin. Dove found herself alone in a field drenched in an unnatural red haze. The landscape was barren, stretching endlessly beneath a swirling sky, as though the world itself had been drained of color, life, and hope. She tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy, as if bound by invisible chains.
A low, ominous ticking began, faint at first but gradually growing louder, rhythmic and unrelenting. The sound echoed through the silence, filling her head until it was all she could hear. She scanned the field around her, heart pounding, and then she saw him—Vecna, standing in the shadows, his decayed form framed by the twisting clouds above.
Her instinct was to turn away, to run, but she was paralyzed, her feet rooted to the ground as his figure loomed closer, emerging from the darkness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. His presence alone seemed to drain the warmth from the air, his gaze piercing, cold, and calculating.
"Dove," he whispered, his voice curling into her mind like smoke. "Why do you resist?You are the key to your friend's salvation. They suffer, with no protection from the darkness that creeps closer. But you can change that."
Dove's voice shook. "What do you want from me?"
He tilted his head, considering her with a dark amusement, his rotted mouth twisting into a smile. "A vessel, Dove," he murmured. "A means for us to walk freely between worlds, to wield the power that lies dormant within you. Together, we will bring peace to those you care for. Their suffering will finally end."
Her throat tightened, bile rising as his words sank in. A vessel? A horrifying image flashed in her mind, her body overtaken, controlled, her every thought bent to his will.
Vecna tilted his head, watching her reaction with a faint, mocking smile. "You'll come to see reason, in time," he continued, voice smooth and venomous. "I am offering you the chance to protect those you love. When you agree, there is no force in this world or the next that could harm them. All you need to do is yield."
Dove swallowed hard, anger bubbling up, cutting through her fear. "I will never let you use me. Never let you turn me into.. into some kind of puppet," she spat, defiance sparking in her eyes.
Vecna's smile twisted, cruel and patient. "You speak with such conviction now. But every moment you defy me, you risk more. Those around you—they are vulnerable. Fragile. So easy to break. And when they suffer, when they fall, know that it is by your hand, Dove. You alone hold the choice to spare them."
The ticking grew louder, hammering against her skull, as if his words were burrowing into her mind. The cold weight of his ultimatum sank deeper. Her voice cracked with fury as she answered, "You don't control me, and you never will. Leave me alone."
He chuckled darkly, stepping back, his gaze still locked on hers as his figure began to fade into the shadows. "So be it. But remember, Dove—every tear, every loss, all of the pain they feel from this moment forward is because of you. When you are ready to embrace reality, to see reason, I will be waiting."
Dove's eyes flew open, her body jolting back to consciousness with a sharp intake of breath. She was disoriented, her pulse still hammering, heart tangled in the lingering tendrils of dread. The room was dark, the only illumination a faint strip of dawn slipping through a crack in the blinds, casting a warm glow over the living room.
It was then she felt the warm, steady weight beside her. Steve's arm was draped over her, his hand resting near her shoulder, his body leaning into hers as he slept. For a moment, she lay still, absorbing the warmth radiating from him, grounding herself in the comfort of his presence, despite the terror that had just clawed at her subconscious.
But Vecna's words still echoed in her mind, reverberating with a cruel certainty. She could almost feel his presence lingering, as if watching her even now.
Swallowing, Dove brushed Steve's arm lightly, hoping to slip away without waking him. But her slight movement caused him to stir. His eyes opened halfway, blinking in confusion before he focused on her.
"Hey," he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep, but his gaze sharpened as he noticed her expression. "You okay?" Dove took a deep breath, unable to answer his question. Steve's concern deepened as he sat up fully, sleep fading from his eyes. "Vecna again?" His tone was gentle but edged with a firm understanding. Dove hesitated, then gave a slight nod. Without another word, Steve quietly led her into the kitchen, flipping on the dim light above the sink. He poured her a glass of water, sliding it over before taking a seat beside her at the table.
Dove took a shaky sip, her fingers trembling around the glass. Steve watched her closely, the silence between them filled with unspoken worry. "Tell me about it?" he asked softly, his voice barely a murmur, respectful of the weight she seemed to be carrying.
For a moment, Dove stared into her glass, her mind racing back to the twisted, shadowed vision. "He finally told me what he wants.." Steve didn't say anything, as if waiting for her to continue. "He wants me to be his vessel," she finally whispered, the words sounding foreign as they left her mouth. "He thinks.. I don't know. He thinks I'm.. strong enough. Or weak enough. Or—whatever he needs to make it work."
Steve's jaw tightened, his brow furrowing as he shook his head. "A vessel? Like.. he wants to take over your body?"
Dove ran a hand through her hair, still feeling the chill of the vision. "He said he needs a body to step out of his world and into ours. He thinks I'm somehow.. suited for it. Like I can handle it." She shuddered, her fingers gripping the glass.
Steve looked at her, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. "And what, he expects you to just agree to this?"
Dove let out a frustrated laugh. "He thinks if he threatens all of you, I'll give in." She paused, her face paling as she remembered his final words. "He told me.. that anything that happens to any of you from now on is my fault. Because I won't give him what he wants."
Steve reached across the table, placing a firm hand over hers. "Listen to me, Dove. This is not your fault, and whatever Vecna's planning, we're gonna stop him, all of us—together."
Dove took a steady breath, looking down at her hands before meeting Steve's eyes. "When we go see Eddie, once we're all together, I'm going to tell them. About the visions. About everything. They need to know what we're up against—what he wants."
Steve nodded, his grip tightening on her hand. "Okay."His voice was steady, low, and unwavering. For a moment, neither of them said anything, but the quiet between them felt solid, like an unspoken promise.
As they bounced along the winding path to Lover's Lake, Dove stared out the window, letting the low hum of the tires and the chatter of her friends wash over her. Dustin and Steve were bickering about Pringles, Steve lamenting the lack of flavor. Robin sighed dramatically, turning from the front seat to look back at the others.
"Not to be a wimp, but can I maybe sit in the car for this visit?" she groaned, crossing her arms. "Because this is gonna totally and royally suck."
Nancy, glancing over from the driver's seat, shook her head. "It'll be fine."
Robin rolled her eyes. "I just can't stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie's break again. I really, really can't."
Steve popped another Pringle into his mouth, then reached down to grab the case of beer sitting by his feet. "At least he can drink himself into feeling better,"
Max shrugged. "That's what my mom does."
Dove's eyes flicked over to Max, caught off guard by the bluntness of her statement.
"Why don't we just give it a trial run?" Robin continued, putting on a sarcastic smile. She held her hands up as if delivering news to Eddie. "Hey, Eddie. Uh, good news first this time. We got you some Dustin-approved junk food and that six-pack that you requested. Oh, yeah, and we found Vecna. Only the bad news is that he's in that other, darker, much scarier dimension that we told you about, and the gates are closed, so we have no way of getting to him. Like, he's entirely shut off to us, so basically, you're screwed. And, no, I know you were already screwed, but now you're doubly, triply screwed."
Dove's hands clenched in her lap, the sense of guilt she'd been carrying rising back to the surface. She had so much to tell everyone, so much she had to own up to about her visions, her encounters with Vecna, and this terrible feeling she couldn't shake—that somehow, they were all tangled in this mess because of her.
"Maybe we don't put it like that," Lucas suggested, his voice strained.
Nancy nodded, her gaze fixed ahead as she drove. "We're one step closer to finding Vecna. That's what we say. That's what's important."
"See, Robin?" Steve said, holding up a chip and inspecting it. "A positive spin can make all the difference." He popped the chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Nancy's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Oh shit." She eased up on the gas, the car slowing to a crawl.
Dove looked up from her hands and followed Nancy's gaze. Reefer Rick's house loomed ahead, now surrounded by a sea of police tape and the flashing lights of multiple patrol cars. A crowd had gathered in front, an unsettling mix of onlookers, reporters, and a handful of officers keeping them back. The sight hit Dove like a punch to the gut, the weight of it sinking deep as the dread she'd felt all morning sharpened into a chilling realization: they were too late.
Before Nancy could even stop the car fully, Dove had unlatched the back and hopped out. Her heart hammered as she hurried toward the police barrier, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene. Eddie's safe hideout was now stripped of its secrecy, every corner under scrutiny by law enforcement and the hungry eyes of the crowd. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she took in the scene, noting how the normally faded, overgrown yard was now glaringly exposed by the stark flashes of red and blue.
The chief's voice echoed across the crowd and Dove strained to listen, a twisting fear wrapping around her as she noticed other officers moving in and out of the house.
"As many of you know," Chief Powell began, his voice heavy, almost apologetic, "the Roane County line received a call a little after midnight reporting a homicide here on the lake." Dove's heart clenched, a silent, fearful question lingering as she stared at the house. The others finally caught up to her, gathering around with a shared feeling of dread.
Powell continued, "Officer Callahan here and myself were the first to arrive on the scene. We made our way to the shore of Lover's Lake, about ten yards from the house you see behind me. It was there that we found the victim, an 18-year-old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney."
Dove sucked in a breath, not realizing she had stopped breathing until her lungs began to burn. She felt the relief wash over her like a wave. It wasn't Eddie.
"His limbs.. his body," Powell said, his tone dropping, "was disfigured in a manner similar to two previous victims. There was an eyewitness on the scene, another Hawkins High senior."
Dove's hope was short-lived as Powell's tone shifted to one of intent. "We have also identified a person of interest." He lifted up a large picture of Eddie, holding it in full view of the press. "Eddie Munson."
Dove's heart sank. "Oh no," she mumbled, her voice catching.
"We encourage anyone with information to please come forward." Powell's voice grew more authoritative, his eyes scanning the crowd.
"This is not good. Really not good," Steve muttered.
Powell raised his hands, his tone measured but firm as he tried to quiet the crowd. "I know you've got a lot of questions, and I'll answer as many as I can. Two o'clock at town hall, where anyone from the Hawkins community is welcome. But right now, I've got some work to do, and I appreciate your understanding."
As Powell turned to leave, his eyes drifted across the crowd and found Dove, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. Dove held his gaze, her heart pounding as she tried to convey her unspoken message: You're making a a moment, she thought he might come over, might give her a chance to explain. But just as quickly, he looked away, turning back toward the officers clustered near the house, leaving Dove with a hollow, sinking feeling in her chest.
Dove blinked rapidly, fighting back tears as an ache settled deep in her throat. "We need to find Eddie, right now," she whispered, the urgency heavy in her voice.
As if answering her plea, Eddie's voice crackled suddenly through Dustin's walkie, shaky and tense. "Dustin, can you hear me? Dove? Wheeler?"
Dustin tore off his bag and ripped the walkie from the side pocket, his hands trembling with relief. They stepped back from the barrier, their huddled backs to the crowd, trying to muffle their conversation. "Eddie, holy shit," Dustin whispered, barely containing his worry. "Are you okay?"
"Nah, man. Pretty.." Eddie laughed, a strained, hollow sound, devoid of its usual warmth. "Pretty goddamn far from okay."
Robin leaned in, her voice tight with urgency. "Where is he?"
Dustin pressed the button, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where are you?"
There was a beat of tense silence before Eddie responded, "Skull Rock. Do you know it?"
Dove and Steve exchanged a knowing look.
"Yeah, I know where that is," Steve said, his voice firm, already turning on his heel and heading back to the car. The others fell into step behind him, their determination palpable as they prepared to find Eddie and, somehow, figure out a way to protect him.