Nancy
I peer inside Barb's car, which is still parked in the same place from last night. There's no sign of her, and I call her name once and then again.

My next resort is to check around Steve's backyard, around the pool. I call her name again and hear rustling in the brush. I check it out, hoping it might be Barb. Still nothing.

Something whips by behind me and I jump to face it, but I see nothing. I trip in attempt to run away and pick myself up, not wanting to know what it was. Whatever it was, it wasn't Barb.

Joyce
I lean against the wall, cigarette in mouth. The dog barks and I see the lights blinking in a trail, as if leading me someplace. I follow the lights and they lead me to a small cupboard. I grab a ball of Christmas lights out of a box and climb into the cupboard.

"Will . . . are you here?" I ask in a whisper. The lights shine brightly. "Okay, good, good, good, good." They dim down again.

"Okay . . . blink once for yes, twice for no. Can you do that for me, sweetie?" They blink once. Yes. "Oh, good boy. Good boy. Baby, I need to know . . . are you alive?" The blink once. Yes. I breathe a sigh of relief. "Are you safe?" They blink twice. No. "I need to know where to find you, honey. Where . . . Where are you? Can you . . . Can you tell me where you are? Can . . . Please, baby. I need to find you. Tell me what to do. Please, just . . ." I look around, hoping for something. "Will . . ."

I climb out of the cupboard and open a can of paint. Underneath each lightbulb on the wall, I draw a letter, until I have the entire alphabet. {Iconic scene.}

Nancy
"Hey, you're home early," Mom says as I walk through the door. "How was the game?" I walk toward her and she notices the tears in my eyes. "Nancy? What's wrong?"

"It's Barb . . . ," I snivel. "I think . . . something happened. Something terrible."

Hopper
"I don't know, Chief," Powell says.

"What don't you know?" I ask.

"This lady, Terry Ives, sounds like a real nut to me," he says. "Her kid was taken for LSD mind control experiments? She's been discredited. Claim was thrown out—"

"Okay, forget about her," I interrupt, shuffling the papers away from him. "Take a look at this." I hand him a paper, headed MKULTRA EXPOSED. "Dr. Martin Brenner."

"Who?"

"Brenner. He runs Hawkins lab."

"Okay."

I lean back in my seat. "You don't find that interesting?"

"Not really. He was involved in some hippie crap back in the day. So what?"

"No, this isn't 'hippie crap'. This is CIA-sanctioned research."

"Doesn't mean he had anything to do with our kid."

"Come on; look at the hospital gowns. All of them." I place my finger on the children standing next to Brenner in the picture. "Now, that piece of fabric that the teacher found by the pipe. That sure looked like a hospital gown to me, huh? Am I wrong?"

"I don't know, Chief."

"Come on, man. Work with me here. I'm not saying that there's some grand conspiracy. I'm just . . ." I sigh. "I'm saying maybe something happened. Maybe Will was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he saw something he shouldn't have."

"It's a reach."

"It's a start."

"Hey, Powell, is the chief with you?" Callahan rings through on Powell's radio. I grab the radio from Powell.

"Hopper here. What do you got?"

He gives me an answer that piques my interest. Powell and I rush out of the library and into the car, driving off with the siren blaring.

(Y/N)
We drag our bikes through the woods, following El, wherever she may be leading us.

"Here," she says eventually. I look around and we're at Will's house.

"Yeah, this is where Will lives," Mike says.

"Hiding," she says.

"No, no, this is where he lives. He's missing from here," I say, choking on the words. "Understand?"

Lucas and Dustin reach us and drop their bikes to the ground. "What are we doing here?" Lucas asks.

"She said he's hiding here," Mike says.

"Um . . . no!" Lucas says.

"I swear, if we walked all the way around here for nothing—," Dustin starts.

"That's exactly what we did!" Lucas says exasperatedly. "I told you she didn't know what the hell she was talking about!"

"Why did you bring us here?" Mike asks El gently.

She opens her mouth to say something, but Lucas yet again lashes out. "Mike, don't waste your time."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" I counter.

"Call the cops like we should've done yesterday," he says.

"We are not calling the cops," Mike says.

"Hey, wait—," Dustin starts, but is—yet again—cut off by Lucas.

"What other choice do we have?" Lucas says.

"Hey!" Dustin says again, louder, gaining everyone's attention. Just pass the trees, two cop cars and one ambulance rush by, sirens all blaring.

"Will . . ." His name escapes my mouth as tears threaten to fall, the worst possible scenarios swarming my mind.

We hop on our bikes and pedal as fast as possible into the direction of the sirens.

Joyce
I stand back, and I would admire my handiwork, but there's no time at all. Not when my baby's not safe.

"Okay, baby. Talk to me. Where are you?"

R . . . I . . . G . . . H . . . T . . . H . . . E . . . R . . . E.

"Right here. 'Right here'? I don't know what that means. I need you to tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?"

The lights hurriedly blink, and I barely catch it all. Tell (Y/N) I love her, is what I get from it. Aw, my baby boy's in love!

Focus, Joyce. Your baby boy is also in who-the-hell-knows-where and he's in trouble.

"What should I do? How do I get to you? What should I do?"

R . . .

U . . .

N.

The lights all blink rapidly and some . . . thing crawls through the wall. It's slimy and it bears sharp claws. It rips through the wallpaper and snarls, and I take the chance I can to heed Will's advice.

I run, run, run, and eventually run into a car coming to a halt in the driveway. Out of the driver's seat comes Jonathan.

"Mom, what happened?" he asks, and I take him into my arms.

(Y/N)
We pull up our bikes behind a firetruck to stay hidden and I tremble with fear of what we're going to find here.

"It's not Will . . . ," Mike says, peering over the side of the truck. "It can't be."

"It's Will," Lucas says. "It's really Will."

"No, no, no, it can't be," I mutter, even though the figure they pulled from the lake at the quarry is all-too-familiarly Will. "It's not him . . . It . . . It can't be. It isn't . . . No . . ." Will can't be dead. Because if he is . . . I want to be.

Mike looks away and Eleven puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Mike . . ."

He swats her hand away. "'Mike'? 'Mike', what? You were supposed to help us find him alive! You said he was alive! Why did you lie to us? What's wrong with you? What is wrong with you?" {Mike repeats himself so much he could be a Chapter 11 spokesperson (no pun intended derp).}

"Mike . . . ," Eleven mumbles.

"What?" he snaps. With that, he starts toward his bike.

"Mike, come on," Lucas says. "Don't do this, man. Mike . . ."

"Mike, where are you going?" Dustin says. "Mike!"

"Mike . . . ," I say softly, a tear—the first tear I've shed since I was six and my father died—rolling down my cheek. He looks to me like he's changed his mind, but then looks to Eleven and remembers his reason of departure in the first place and continues to ride off on his bike, leaving me in the dust, just when I need him most.

El realizes my pain and wraps her arms around me. Just having a friend with me—even if they aren't my first choice—when I'm hurting means the world to me, especially if they're aching just as much as I.

It's always been said that if you love someone, you should let them go.

But how can you let them go when they're the only thing keeping you together?

Mike
I go in the house, slamming the door behind me.

"Michael?" Mom says from the living room. I stop and face her, not wanting to cry in front of her, no matter how much my eyes want to. "What's wrong?" My attempts at holding in my tears fail and Mom takes me into her arms.

I'm just imagining pictures of the three pairs hugging flashing back and forth and I'm just
Also ONLY A WEEK AND TWO DAYS UNTIL ST2!!!
Also, anyone else excited for Haters Back Off season two?