CHAPTER FIVE.
1x05: The Flea and the Acrobat

"What was Will saying?"

They were now out of the school, retreated to Mike's basement to recuperate. Eleven was drained from using her powers earlier, so she was lying stomach down on Mike's couch, head to the side as she stared at nothing in particular. The rest of the kids (Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin) were racking their brains, trying to piece together what the hell just happened.

"Like home..." Mike repeated. "Like home... but dark?"

Lucas exhaled shakily. "And empty," he added.

Sam's nod was unstable. "And cold."

Dustin, who was sat on the basement's stairs, furrowed his eyebrows. "Are we sure he said empty and cold? What does that even mean?"

"I don't know." Lucas shrugged sharply. "The stupid radio kept doing in and out."

"It's like riddles in the dark," Dustin muttered underneath his breath. "Doesn't help that none of us could reach him."

Then—being reminded of something very important—Lucas, Mike, and Dustin straightened up. Knowing where this was going, Sam stiffened. Slowly (and creepily) they turned in unison to face Sam.

"Sam could," Lucas corrected, an unreadable look on his face.

Sam's face fell, her heart steadily being filled with dread.

"Don't look at me like that," she protested feebly.

"You talked to him, Sam," Mike insisted, with an underlying message that told Sam his point was irrefutable.

Stubbornly, Sam shook her head. "N-no I didn't, alright?" she said. "I don't know why he would... Maybe the radio cut out? We had to have missed part of what he said. He couldn't have said my name."

Somehow, they all made identical faces: raising their eyebrows, unamused.

"I didn't do anything," Sam said slowly. She felt herself slowly getting upset. It didn't make any sense for her to have communicated with Will, who not even Eleven was able to speak to.

"You spoke to him!" Mike insisted desperately, as if begging Sam to get it through her head. "How are you misinterpreting this?"

Sam's hands were slowly starting to shake, so she crossed her arms to hide them. She simply shrugged. "He was speaking to his mom," she countered. "That's the important part. Did you hear what he was saying?"

Mike scoffed incredulously. "Yeah, we heard what he was saying! 'Like home.' Like his house?"

"Or maybe like Hawkins!" Lucas said.

From the couch, Eleven spoke up in a quiet, tired voice. "Upside down."

Lucas's face screwed up judgmentally. "What's she say?"

Sam's heart was dropping further in her stomach by the second. She had to swallow.

"Upside down."

Eleven turned the board upside down. Why?

"Upside down," Sam repeated more firmly this time, clearing her throat to rid her voice of the shakiness it held. She walked back over to the table they played D&D on. She sat down, grabbing the playing board and turning it right-side up, re-enacting Eleven's actions. "When Eleven showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember? And I... I said—"

"Upside down," Mike recalled. His eyes were now wide as Sam slammed the board face-down again. That was two times now Sam had accidentally tied herself to all this mess.

Sam nodded. "Dark," she referred to Will's words. "Empty."

"Do you understand what they're talking about?" Lucas asked Dustin, eyeing Sam and Mike judgmentally.

"No."

"Guys, come on," Mike urged. "Just think about it—when El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?"

Lucas raised a deadpan eyebrow. "Yeah. And he wasn't there."

"But what if he was there?" Sam interjected quietly. She wasn't making eye contact, biting the nail of her thumb anxiously. She only managed to meet Lucas's stare. "What if we just couldn't see him? What if... he was on the other side?"

Mike nodded, on perfect track with Sam's train of thought. He picked up the board, flipping it over and pointing at the right side. "What if this is Hawkins and"—he turned the bottom back facing up—"this is where Will is?"

"The Upside Down," Sam finished.

Dustin's eyes went wide, and Sam knew exactly how to tell when he was struck with a realization. Now would be one of those times.

"Like the Vale of Shadows," he recalled within a gasp.

Sam's eyes enlarged too.

"Exactly like the Vale of Shadows."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Dustin grabbed Mike's personalized D&D playbook, slapping it down on their playing table. He began flipping through it with a destination in mind. Sam watched as he finally reached the pages of the binder he was looking for; she squinted to see a monochrome picture of a dark, eerie woods.

"'The Vale of Shadows,'" Dustin read verbatim, "'is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters. It is right next to you, and you don't even see it.'"

Sam felt a shiver run through her spine. That was almost too accurate for the place they were looking for—too accurate to Will's description on the Heathkit earlier.

"An alternate dimension," Mike realized.

Now finally unable to deny anything, Lucas stammered, "But... h-how do... we get there?"

"You cast Shadow Walk," Dustin answered, following the D&D rulebook from his memory. Lucas and Mike shot him looks.

"I think he meant in real life, Dustin," Sam said kindly.

"Yeah, dummy," Lucas said.

Sam sent him an unpleasant stare, wordlessly telling him to be nice to Dustin. After all, he was the person who'd just figured out what Eleven and Will had been talking about this whole time. They now knew where Will was hiding.

"We can't shadow walk," Dustin started, nodding toward Sam and Eleven, "but... maybe they can."

Lucas, Mike, and Dustin turned the girls' way.

"Stop looking at me like that," Sam protested weakly, squeezing her fists so hard they began shaking. She moved them off the table and into her lap, staring back at the boys.

Dustin tilted his head in disagreement. "You could talk to Will. And you're our Druid, Sam—there's a group called the Shadow Druids in the Shadow Realm."

"Creative," Lucas snarked under his breath.

Sam's face twisted. "I'm not actually a Druid," she said in exasperation.

"You're something," Mike insisted, being totally unhelpful—seriously, Sam thought they were on the same side here, what the hell?

Sam shook her head, rolling her eyes stubbornly. "You guys are ridiculous," she commented. When her head faced right, she didn't look away this time. Sam let her attention fall onto Eleven, lying on the couch. She asked, "Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?"

Eleven stared back, looking painstakingly exhausted.

She faintly shook her head.

"Oh my God," Lucas groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance.

Sam exhaled, deflating a little at Eleven's answer. While it wasn't Eleven's fault, it was still disappointing they were about as near finding Will as they were before.

Nowhere fucking near, in other words.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam had gone through a lot in these past five days (yeah, because it had only been five days, even though it felt like five months). The entire trajectory of her life had been changed about twenty times so far, and each piece of information has been more unusual and unsettling than the last.

Yet somehow, for some reason, the weirdest thing she'd done so far was get ready for William Byers's funeral.

Correction: fake funeral.

They'd already confirmed Will wasn't dead, and Sam knew that, and her friends knew that, but they couldn't tell anyone they knew that. Because of this, they had to attend a funeral for a fake body meant to act in place as Will.

So, yeah. It was really fucking weird.

Actually, it was so weird, that when Aunt Kat woke Sam up to get ready for the funeral, Sam accidentally snorted in laughter. Aunt Kat looked at Sam as if she were crazy, but it was nothing Sam wasn't used to.

Sam's family knew she was acting weird, but she was really milking the whole "mourning my dead best friend" thing to get out of any discussions that she could.

Corey hadn't ratted out Sam for being seen at school yesterday—not yet, at least (she didn't even want to imagine how much of a nerd she seemed like for sneaking out just to go to school). They hadn't even talked since Sam flipped out about two days ago. Every time they crossed paths now, they just made odd eye contact for a few seconds. Then Sam would scurry away just before Corey gained the courage to speak.

The battle of avoiding any and all confrontation with your family who had never given you a second glance until now (conventionally the worst time, but Sam's luck was always foul) was proving to be quite hard.

But the war of getting your hair done by your sister was much, much harder.

"You burned me!"

"I did not burn you!" Stephanie snapped right back. "Sam, will you stop moving?!"

Sam squirmed away from the flat iron, hand whipping up to rub at her ear dramatically. "You fucking burned me, Steph! Get that torture device away from me!"

"It is called a straightening iron, and I can't stop when I'm almost done!" Stephanie argued. She gripped Sam's head and harshly forced her sister back in the chair to reach her. "And stop moving!"

Stephanie made the unilateral decision that they would be straightening Sam's hair—they were going to a funeral, and Sam had to look nice. Sam protested that her hair was straight enough, but apparently that wouldn't fly. She couldn't even blame Stephanie for caring so much, Stephanie didn't know any better. She had given Sam a lot of leeway the past couple of days, but it seemed that even the subject of death wasn't monumental enough to stop the bickering between siblings.

"I look like an idiot!" Sam complained, staring at herself in the mirror. "I look weird! I look like you!"

Stephanie yanked a piece of Sam's hair, ignoring Sam's yelp and anger. "Calm down for five seconds and let me finish. I have one section left!"

"Die," Sam grumbled. She glared at Stephanie through the mirror, slouching in the chair with crossed arms. That was, until Stephanie shoved Sam in the back and forced her to sit up straight again.

Sam saw in Stephanie's expression that she wanted to retaliate further, at her patience's end with Sam.

But then Sam also watched Stephanie really look at her sister—the cut on her cheek, her broken glasses, the circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin—and deflated a little.

When she finished straightening the last section of Sam's hair, she set the straightener down and turned it off. She played with Sam's hair with her hands, still just watching her through the mirror. Then, Stephanie's hands came to a stop on Sam's shoulders.

"Look, I know you don't want to do this," Stephanie started, and—oh, yeah, Sam was supposed to be upset about Will's death, "but it's just something you've gotta get through. Only for a few hours, alright? You've gone through a lot more for a lot longer than this. And I'll be with you the whole time if you want."

Sam couldn't help her mouth from quirking up at her sister's support, even when knowing Stephanie didn't have a clue what was going on. In return, Stephanie brightened up as well; she always felt better when seeing Sam smile. Sam knew it had a lot to do with Stephanie feeling responsible for her little sister's well-being after their parents' death.

Which was exact why she said, "Thanks, Steph." It didn't matter if she didn't need the motivational speech—she felt better when seeing Stephanie smile too.

"Yeah," Stephanie muttered, pleased. "Whatever." She stepped away from being so close to Sam, giving her space to stand and look closer in the mirror. "Now—"

"If you think for a second I'm going, Kathryn, you're delusional!" yelled a voice from the living room.

Uncle Dan.

Sam instinctively tensed, a reflex response to her uncle at this point. She shared taut eye contact with Stephanie through the mirror. She turned around to actually face her sister, and she found that Stephanie was stiff too.

"It is a funeral!" Aunt Kat shouted back. "For one of Sam's friends! We're going!"

"Samantha is fucked up and only hands around boys like a slut! I'm not surprised it's one of her little friends who were dumb enough to fuck around in the Quarry! Especially that Byers kid!"

Sam's fists clenched. Now, she couldn't find it in herself to look at Stephanie. She couldn't look at anything. It felt like she was dissociating from everything around her, but she could still hear the shouting match going on downstairs.

"Those are horrible things to say, Daniel! Has it ever occured to you that a kid is dead? He was only twelve years old!"

"He was a fag is what he was! I don't attend funerals for queers!"

"Fucking—Sam!" snapped a voice, bringing Sam out of her stupor.

Her head whipped up to meet Stephanie's concerned-yet-furious, wide eyes. She moved to force Sam's hands out of fists. Sam looked down to find she'd clenched her fists so hard that she had broken skin. Splotchy blood was now wet in her palms, coming out of the crescent shapes her fingernails indented.

"Oh," Sam said stupidly.

Eyes still on her hands, she heard Stephanie's sigh, full of emotion.

"Don't listen to what he says, alright?" she attempted. "You know he's full of shit."

Wanting to seem unfazed by it all, even if it was a little too late, Sam straightened up and wiped her hands on her black dress.

"Yeah, I—" Her voice got caught in her throat for a second. "I know that. Of course I know that." She laughed, and it was so clearly forced. "It's just the whole funeral thing getting to me. But I'll be fine, Steph."

"Sam—"

"I should finish getting ready," Sam continued. She turned her back on Stephanie and pretended to pick things up around her room. "Make sure Corey's ready. I'll kill him if we're late, then we'll be attending a funeral for him too."

Sam knew Stephanie had that very sad, very miserable look on her face. It was even in her tone with another, "Sam."

But Sam did not budge, and Stephanie knew she wouldn't. She left Sam's room in concession, closing the door so as to prevent Sam from hearing much more of the argument happening. The last Sam heard sounded a lot like:

"Well, of-fucking-course she hands around with them! If she wants to cry like a little baby at her flamer friend's funeral, she can do that on her own time!"

"DANIEL!"

Sam sighed. 

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Only Sam, Stephanie, Corey, and Aunt Kat were in attendance at Will's funeral—on the Gray-Hughes side, that was. If anyone were to ask where Daniel Gray was, they were to cover it up with him "being ill." Sam was used to excusing him like this, so she didn't have any difficulties finding what words to say (especially considering she did think he was a sick individual).

For the most part, no one really was asking Sam about Uncle Dan. If they came up to her, which most people did not, they just began expressing to Sam how sorry they were that she lost her best friend.

I'm sorry for your loss, Samantha. Your mother and father were wonderful people...

Sam knew how to act. She knew exactly how people wanted her to respond. She'd been through this before. She'd lived out this scenario.

"'Fear not, for I am with you,'" the priest read a scripture from the Bible. "'Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous hand—'"

Sam couldn't really listen to the priest's mumbled scriptures and Bible quotes. She was retreating farther and farther inside of her head, ever since the fight she'd overheard this morning. All she could do was fiddle with her dress that all of a sudden felt too uncomfortable on her body as she stood in front of Will Byers's casket.

The party members stood in the order of Mike, Dustin, Lucas, then Sam, with all of their respective family members behind them. Sam was the closest to the casket, and unfortunately her eyesight wasn't that bad, because she could actually see it.

We are gathered here today to mourn the losses of two, beautiful souls from right here in Hawkins. Diane and Anthony Hughes were lights to the lives of anyone they touched...

Lucas nudged her slightly, and Sam blinked rapidly out of her thoughts. She looked at the boy in question, to which he whispered, "Look."

We are so tragically despaired that they were taken from us so soon. It is a shame what the effects of reckless driving can be. I hope this can be a reminder to us all to be mindful of our surroundings, because we never know whose lives we can be affecting...

The kids turned to look in the direction Lucas was pointing in, redirecting their attention to another blonde girl on the other side of the grave with tears running down her pale cheeks.

Diane and Anthony were more than citizens of Hawkins. They were a mother and a father, a son and daughter, an aunt and an uncle, a brother and a sister, incredible friends to us all...

"Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral," Dustin giggled quietly, the two boys on either side of him snickering in agreement.

We pray to Saint Christopher, the patron saint of safe driving. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...

A few minutes after the priest finished his mindless gospel-quoting and Lonnie Byers gave a "heartfelt" eulogy that didn't fool any of the party for a second, Sam stood in front of the open grave with a yellow lily clutched tightly in her hand, tight enough to bend the stem.

Samantha Hughes was spending her tenth birthday at her parents' funeral.

"Why yellow and pink?" a ten-year-old Will asked, leading Sam through a pass of trees.

Will had sort of and somewhat kidnapped Sam. He'd taken one look at Sam when the burial ceremony for her parents started, then decided he wouldn't let her stay any longer.

Sam didn't really feel like she was presently there in the moment, so she didn't really process what she was doing when she responded, "It's okay," to whatever Will had said to her. She'd been assuming it was, 'I'm so sorry for your loss,' but then he was grabbing Sam's wrist, so that must not have been it. Now they were on the trek to Will's house—or, Sam inferred, the back of Will's house.

Castle Byers.

"Mom hated red," Sam replied in a weak voice, "so Dad never bought her any red flowers. He said roses were cliche and they didn't fit who she was, anyway. One time for her birthday, he got her this huge bouquet of yellow lilies and pink tulips that my mom preserved and framed up in the house."

Somehow, that answer came easy to her. For the past few days, Sam hadn't been able to speak to anyone about anything—not even Stephanie or anyone else in the party. But this was Will, and talking to him was a reflex easy as breathing. He didn't even care that her eyes were bloodshot, or that her face was puffy from crying, or her that voice was so raw and broken she couldn't speak louder than a whisper.

Or maybe it was that he did care, and it was the way he showed it that meant everything to her.

When they reached Castle Byers, Will lifted up the blanketed entrance for Sam to enter through while he trailed in after her. Sam looked around in awe. Castle Byers would never fail to amaze her on how awesome it was. She'd always wished she could have something like this for herself. She even remembered begging her dad to one day—

Oh, yeah. Her dad.

"I really liked the yellow flowers," Will said, as if able to tell Sam was spiraling further and further by the second. "I think they might be my favorite."

Sam turned to face him, because she'd previously been staring at a picture of Sam, Lucas, Mike, Will, and Dustin where the four boys were lifting Sam up in the middle as they all laughed hysterically.

"Really?" she asked, because she was always interested in hearing new things about her friends, whether she was mourning her parents or not. Every new piece of information she received was filed in the cabinet of her brain labeled 'STUFF ABOUT THE PEOPLE I LOVE.'

"Yeah." Will nodded, seemingly pleased Sam was conversing with him. "If someone got a bouquet of yellow lilies for me, I'd be so happy!"

She tilted her head contemplatively. "Lilies are nice, but irises are my favorite."

"Those are the purple ones, right?"

Sam nodded.

Will nudged her, sending Sam a smile she was supposed to mirror back at him. "Then I'll get you a bouquet of irises to cheer you up. How about that?"

For the first time in a matter of long days, Samantha Hughes almost smiled. If this was anyone else from the party, she would remind them that nothing could cheer her up—her parents were quite literally dead. But it was Will, and Will was special, so she didn't.

"One day, I'll give you all the yellow lilies in the world, Will."

Someone nudged Sam from behind, and she turned around to see Stephanie staring at Sam knowingly. There was guilt and understanding and pity in her eyes. Sam could simply tell Stephanie was in the same place as her right now.

"You're holding up the line," she whispered gently, trying to move Sam along.

Sam swallowed harshly and looked back at the closed casket for a long moment before relaxing her grip on the stem of the lily.

If you're really gone—if the past few days were all a fever dream—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Will.

She took a shaky breath before letting the flower fall from her hands and land on the smooth wood of the casket where her friend's body lay. She couldn't give him all the yellow lilies in the world. This was all she had.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

After the funeral ceremony, many of the attenders were helping themselves to refreshments inside as they discussed their forced grief over Will. Aunt Kat was with all the annoying moms Sam couldn't stand, Stephanie was with Gina (who was the only one out of their friend group besides Stephanie who could make it to the funeral), and Corey was brooding in a corner like he usually did.

Mike was right back at Will's ceremony in school: they were all fakers. No one in this town had given Will a second glance before this—if they did, it was not a kind one.

Sam was feeling much more emotional about this whole funeral ordeal than she thought she would be, than she should be. Of course, she knew why this was, but she had been forcing herself not to come to terms with it. They were here for Will. They needed to find Will. Sam was not going to hinder Operation Mirkwood because she broke down like a little baby again.

Trying to put her emotions behind her, Sam joined the boys in their next phase of the plan. Now that they'd discovered Will was hiding in the Upside Down, they needed to discover how he even would've been able to get there. People didn't just randomly get zapped to an alternate dimension on a casual Sunday.

So they figured maybe their beloved science teacher would know something about the subject.

"Mr. Clarke?" Mike asked, leading the group of four as they found him near a table of food.

He turned around, startled for a moment before he realized it was just his students. "Oh! Hey, there. How you kids holding up?"

There was Dustin, who had already started carelessly munching on food; Lucas, who was glaring at Dustin; Mike, who was looking as blank as ever; and Sam, who was always just there.

Lucas turned his head back to Mr. Clarke. "We're—in—mourning," he said in a robotic tone.Mike nodded rapidly.

"Sam, I know another funeral must be really hard for you," Mr. Clarke said sympathetically, frowning down at the blonde girl. Her heart dropped at being addressed on the topic. "I hope you're doing as well as you can be."

"Oh, I-I'm great!" Sam lied, because her instinct to cover up all negative emotions was practically a reflex at this point. Then, with a sinking realization (under the pointed stares of Lucas and Mike), Sam remembered she wasn't supposed to be doing great. "I mean—obviously, I'm not great! I'm the opposite of great! Really sad stuff. Mourning my dead best friend. I just—you know—I meant—I'm totally not sad about my parents being dead. I'm not thinking about them at all, Mr. Clarke, don't you worry!"

Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Mr. Clarke kind of just stared at each other awkwardly.

"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers," Dustin commented in distaste, not even paying attention to the conversation before him.

Mike sighed, shaking his head at Dustin and turning back to Mr. Clarke. "We were wondering if you had time to talk?"

"We have some questions," Lucas elaborated.

Sam nodded. "A lot of questions."

She hit Dustin's shoulder and jerked her head in Mr. Clarke's direction.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tons of questions, really need answering," Dustin rushed out as they led Mr. Clarke to a vacant table in the corner of the room.

"So, you know how in Cosmos, Carl Sagan talks about other dimensions? Like, beyond our world?" Mike asked quickly, his grieving act long gone.

Mr. Clarke shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Theoretically."

"Right. Theoretically."

"So theoretically," Sam added, unsure how they were going to get through this conversation without being totally obvious, "how do we travel there?"

"You guys have been thinking about Hugh Everett's Many-Worlds Interpretation, haven't you?" Mr. Clarke questioned knowingly, his confidence faltering when the dour friends looked at each other with confused frowns. "Well, basically, there are parallel universes—just like our world, but just infinite variations of it. Which means there's a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened."

"Yeah," Lucas cut in, "that's not what we're talking about..."

"Oh."

"We were thinking of more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of Shadows." Dustin pointed at Mr. Clarke after a quick beat of silence. "You know the Vale of Shadows?"

"An echo of the Material Plan, where necrotic and shadow magic—"

"Yeah, exactly," Mike interrupted impatiently, contrary to how Dustin was nodding back at him in excitement. "If that did exist—a place like the Vale of Shadows—how would we travel there?"

"Theoretically," Lucas added.

"Well..." Mr. Clarke pulled a paper plate from the stack in front of them and took a pen from his blazer pocket, drawing a diagram as he spoke. "Picture... an acrobat... standing on a tightrope. Now, the tightrope is o'ur dimension, and our dimension has rules. You can move forwards or backwards... But what if right next to our acrobat, there is a flea? Now, the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Right?"

"Right."

"Here's where things get really interesting," Mr. Clarke continued. "The flea can also travel this way—along the side of the rope. He can even go... underneath the rope."

The party's eyes went side. "Upside down."

"Exactly," Mr. Clarke confirmed, oblivious to the meaning behind their statement.

"But," Sam started, as she quickly found an issue, "we're not the flea, we're the acrobat."

Mr. Clarke nodded. "In this metaphor, yes, we're the acrobat."

"So... we can't go upside down?" Mike asked, sort of devastated at the thought.

"No."

"Is there any way for the acrobat to get to the Upside Down?" Dustin asked.

"Well." Mr. Clarke paused as he thought about it. "You'd have to create a massive amount of energy—more than humans are currently capable of creating, mind you—to open up some kind of tear in time and space. And then," he picked up the paper plate again, this time folding it in half along the line where he drew the tightrope, before stabbing the tip of the pen right into the paper plate, tearing the stationary through both folded halves, "you create a doorway."

"Like a gate?" Lucas asked.

"Sure. Like a gate," Mr. Clarke agreed. "But again, this is all—"

"Theoretical," Lucas said, nodding.

Mike sighed, a contemplative look on his face. "But... but what if this gate already existed?"

"Well, if it did, I... I think we'd know," Mr. Clarke answered. "It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole."

All the kids shared wary looks.

Mr. Clarke surveyed them, finishing up with, "Science is neat... but I'm afraid it's not very forgiving."

"Thanks, Mr. Clarke," Sam said. "You're the best."

But, really, all she could think was: Where the hell are you, Will?

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Now that the funeral had ended, Sam was able to pull her hair back into a high ponytail, because she hated the look of it being down while it was straight. Strands and baby hairs were starting to fall out of their own accord, but it was what Sam had to work with right now. She had gone straight to Mike's to discuss this interdimensional space portal anyway. Speaking of—

Mike punched a hole through the folded piece of paper with the thin pencil he used to plan their D&D campaigns, causing Eleven to startle slightly. He was recounting everything Mr. Clarke had told them to her, in hopes she could somehow lead them out of their cluelessness.

"It would take a lot of energy to build a gate like this," he explained, "but that's gotta be what happened. Otherwise how'd Will get there, right?"

Eleven gulped, nodding with frightened and slightly intimidated eyes. "R-Right," she rasped.

"What we wanna know is—do you know where the Gate is?" Lucas asked, eyes boring into the girl's soul as if he were trying to carve the answer from the back of her mind.

Eleven shook her head, too rushed and instinctive for even Sam—who was always the most trusting of the group—to believe she was telling the truth.

"Then how do you know about the Upside Down?" Lucas demanded, the fabric of his dress shirt bunched around his elbows as his hands dropped to his sides in exasperation.

Of course, Eleven gave him no response. She looked down into her lap, still wearing the blonde wig and pink dress from the day prior.

Sam was getting tired of Lucas and Eleven's issues with each other, so she zoned out of their conversation. Her attention was quickly brought to Dustin near the fort. He was pacing back and forth like a madman, waving something around wildly in his hands.

Eyebrows furrowing, Sam asked, "Hey, Dustin, what are you doing?"

Sam's question caught the attention of Lucas, Mike, and Eleven, who all looked to see Dustin's odd(er than usual) behavior as well.

"Yeah, Dustin, what?" Mike questioned, sounding exasperated.

Dustin acted almost as if he couldn't hear the two. He kept his eyes trained on whatever object was in his hands, still pacing.

"Dustin!" Lucas shouted.

Dustin whipped around to face them, looking disoriented. They all stared back at him with expectant faces, all believing there was something seriously wrong with their friend.

"I—I need to see your compasses," Dustin said in a rush.

"What?"

"Your compasses," he answered hastily. "All of your compasses, right now!"

"Dustin, no one just carries around compasses with th..." Sam trailed off as Lucas and Mike reached into their pockets, the two of them staring at Sam for a long moment before slowly pulling compasses from their pants. "Jesus Christ."

Sam searched around the basement for more compasses. Eleven followed her when she brought the metal instruments over to the table where the boys were now stood at.

"What is this?" Sam judged again, upon seeing seven (yes, seven) compasses laid out on their D&D table in addition to the three she'd found. "Is it Bring Your Compass To Funeral Day? Why do you all own and carry multiple compasses?"

They ignored her.

Mike eyed the compasses that Dustin flipped all face-up for them to look at. "What's exciting about this?" he deadpanned.

"Well, they're all facing north, right?" Dustin began.

Lucas nodded slowly but shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

"Well, that's not True North."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I just said—that's not True North," Dustin repeated, as if that would make them understand.

Lucas and Mike turned to Sam.

"What?" Sam asked.

"You're Professor Hughes." Lucas motioned to her, clearly expecting something. "Explain what he means."

Sam just shrugged back at him cluelessly. She didn't know whether to be offended that he tried ordering her around, or complimented that he believed she knew the most about science between them. It had been so many years being their friend that Sam felt it best not to say anything at all.

Dustin blew out an agitated breath through his nose. "Are you all seriously this dense? The sun rises in the east and it sets in the west, right?"

"Well, yeah, Dustin, that's basic meteorology," Sam dismissed.

So then Dustin pointed towards the staircase of the basement, saying, "Which means that's True North."

"So what you're saying is the compasses are broken?" Mike asked.

Sam might have been lost in Dustin's little spiel right now, but she knew enough to shoot Mike a look of judgment at his question. Before she could comment on his cluelessness, Dustin beat Sam to it.

"Do you even understand how a compass works?" Dustin condescended. He picked up one of the compasses and twirled it around. "Do you see a battery pack on this?"

Mike gritted his teeth, not pleased with the way Dustin was speaking to him. "No," he grumbled.

"No, you don't. Because it doesn't need one. The Earth has an iron core that's part liquid and part solid crystal, due to gravitational pressure. The movement in that liquid, outer core is what produces Earth's magnetic field. Compasses are made to detect the Earth's natural magnetic fields and respond to them."

Lucas and Mike blinked.

Lucas and Mike looked to Sam.

Sam met their gazes, then sighed exasperatedly.

"He's saying the needles of all compasses are naturally drawn to the Earth's magnetic North Pole," Sam explained in simpler terms.

"Thank you, Sam," Mike said, pointedly shooting Dustin a glare.

But Lucas looked confused again. "So what's wrong with them?"

"Well, that's what I couldn't figure out, but then I remembered—you can change the direction of a compass with a magnet," Dustin rambled. "If there's a presence of a more powerful, magnetic field, the needle deflects that power."

"Oh my God!" Sam exclaimed. She'd finally figured out what Dustin was trying to say. "What Mr. Clarke said! The Gate would have so much power that it would disrupt the magnetic field!"

"Exactly, Specks!" Dustin nodded, clapping his hands together. "I'm glad someone else here has a brain."

Lucas slowly caught on with, "Meaning, if we follow the compasses north..."

"They should lead us to the Gate," Mike finished. He wore the most optimistic look Sam had seen of him in days. She was glad they were all on the same page.

They were going to find Will.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

The party all rushed back to their respective homes, changing into better fit clothes and grabbing all the equipment they thought they'd need. Sam kept her hair in its messy ponytail but was grateful to take the black dress off. She hurriedly packed her backpack, unsure if she needed anything but not wanting to take the chance of being unprepared, before swinging it over her shoulder.

When Sam was one step away from climbing out her window, a voice caught her in the act.

"Where the hell do you keep going?"

Sam immediately stiffened, feet planted on her desk, one leg already halfway out the open window. She turned her head to see Corey standing in her doorway.

"Somewhere," she answered quickly. "Nowhere."

Corey crossed his arms, raising a judgmental eyebrow. "Somewhere or nowhere?"

"Nowhere," Sam insisted. She shifted her bag that kept falling in front of her with the way she was positioned, trying to fling it behind her back again. "I just—Can you lower your voice? My friends and I—"

"You mean you, the nerdy boys who are weird as fuck, and that new random blonde girl who I've never seen before is also weird as fuck?"

Sam wanted to clock him.

But she just exhaled through her nose, said, "Yes. Them." Stealing a page from Lucas's book, Sam looked down sadly. "We're... mourning."

Corey scoffed, because he either didn't believe Sam or didn't care too much about it.

"I know you're doing someth—"

"What was that, Corey? I didn't hear you!" Sam interrupted. She had since turned around and continued climbing out her window.

Corey stopped in his tracks, offended.

"If you keep this up, I'm—"

"Okay, perfect!" Sam was clearly not listening to a word he was saying, judging by the way she was now fully out of her window. As she closed the window again, she cheered, "Byeeee!"

So that was how Sam "snuck" out of her house. Again.

Now she was walking along the train tracks with Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Eleven. Each of them were given one of the million compasses the party had on hand, following the needle pointing north so they could find the Gate.

Honestly, Sam was beginning to prefer talking to Corey. So far, the whole walk had consisted of Mike and Eleven being suspicious in the back while Lucas nagged to Sam and Dustin in the front.

"How much further?" Lucas basically whined.

"Sorry, let me just—" Sam started sarcastically, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, acting as a psychic about the tell the future. "Oh, look! I'm getting a vision!" But when Sam opened her eyes, her arms dropped to her sides with a certain face directed at Lucas. "It says compasses only tell direction, not distance."

Lucas glared. "A simple 'I don't know' would have sufficed."

Sam smiled back at him unapologetically.

Dustin sighed, although he was watching the two of them fondly. "We don't know," he said for Lucas. "You really need to learn more about compasses."

"I'm just saying," Lucas groaned, feeling very attacked, "how do we know when we get to the Gate?"

"Uh, I think a portal to another dimension is gonna be pretty obvious."

But Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know if an interdimensional portal will stick out like a sore thumb?" Dustin asked, speaking to Sam as if she were dumb.

"Yeah, I don't know!" Sam defended. "If it was so huge and obvious, then someone would have definitely found it already. Or—actually. Someone probably already has, but if they found it and didn't tell anyone, then that means they're hiding something, so we're probably heading towards even more danger than we originally thought—"

"Do you think she's acting weird?" Lucas questioned, cutting Sam off.

Dustin scoffed in a humored manner, nodding towards Sam.

"Definitely."

While Sam gaped at both boys in offense, Lucas rolled his eyes and corrected his statement.

"Not Sam. Eleven," he clarified. "Do you think she's acting weird?"

In a very-inconspicuous-and-not-suspicious-at-all approach, Sam, Lucas, and Dustin's heads turned in perfect synchronization behind them to scrutinize Eleven many feet away. Sam could barely make out her figure, but she could tell Mike was conversing with her closely.

"You're asking if the weirdo is acting weird?" Dustin said, turning his head back towards Sam and Lucas's direction.

"I mean, weirder than normal," Lucas elaborated.

Sam exhaled. "She's not that weird, guys. She's actually pretty cool. She just has weird powers."

"Whatever you say, Specks," Dustin dismissed, addressing Lucas again. "And—I don't know. Who cares?"

"I care!" Lucas said. "Especially if she's going to hinder us finding Will!"

Sam pinned him with an unamused stare. "I think she's helping, not hindering."

Again, Lucas rolled his eyes, shaking his head up to the sky as if Sam was some lost cause. He did this often, and most of the time, Sam didn't even understand what weird thing she said to cause this kind of reaction.

"You're just saying all this because you want another girl in the party."

Sam threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly and dramatically before they fell back to her sides. "Well, why wouldn't I? I'm totally outnumbered here! And you guys are gross."

"Yeah, well you like to play dress up instead of finding weapons for a significantly dangerous operation we need weapons for!"

"That was one time!"

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam didn't understand why, but when they arrived at an abandoned junkyard littered with scrapped cars, vehicles, and rusted mechanic's tools, she began to feel slightly on edge.

Dustin's feeble, "Oh no," certainly didn't help the situation.

"Oh no?" Sam repeated, slightly fearful because of the anxiety creeping up her skin. Something was wrong, and Dustin was being too ominous. "What's oh no?"

"We're headed back home," Dustin finally realized, after literal miles of walking.

"What?" Mike said incredulously.

"Are you sure?" came Lucas's annoyed voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Dustin answered, pointing up at the sky. "Setting sun, right there. We looped right back around."

Sam threw her head back, wondered, "Can one thing go right for us?"

"Dustin, how are you just realizing this now?!" Lucas asked, sounding as if he were on his last straw.

"Why is this all on me?" Dustin snapped.

"Because you're the compass genius!" Lucas gestured to him wildly. "And Sam c—"

"Don't you drag me into this," Sam cut him off before he could even start.

Dustin exhaled, really fucking tired with everything, but especially the arguing the party had been doing. He nodded at his friends. "What do your compasses say?"

Sam, Lucas, and Mike checked their compasses again. When they looked back up at Dustin, in unison, they distastefully chimed, "North."

"Makes no damn sense," Dustin muttered, shaking his head in annoyance.

They looked around the junkyard, wondering what hell could be going on. Sam really saw nothing out here except for—well—junk. But maybe that was the shitty eyesight.

"Maybe the Gate moved?" Mike theorized, even if it wasn't very plausible.

"No," Sam said, biting the nail of her thumb, "I don't think it's the Gate. I... I think it's something else screwing with the compasses."

Still turning in circles, Mike said, "Maybe it's something here?"

"Nah," Dustin agreed with Sam, "it would have to be like a super magnet."

Lucas was peering around the junkyard too. Instead of focusing on rusted metal, his eyes fell upon Eleven, who was secluding herself from the conversation.

"It's not a magnet." Lucas pointed at her venomously. "She's been acting weirder than normal! If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass!"

"Why would she do that?" Mike asked defensively.

"Because she's trying to sabotage our mission! Because she's a traitor!" Lucas accused.

He began walking toward Eleven, as she had been trying to keep herself a few feet away from them.

"Lucas, what are you doing?" Sam asked, because she didn't have a good feeling about this. She, Mike, and Dustin followed him, staying close to the chaos in fear of what was going down.

Lucas was glaring at Eleven when he realized, "You did it, didn't you? You don't want us to reach the Gate. You don't want us to find Will!"

"Lucas, come on, seriously," Mike tried interjecting. "Just leave her alo—"

"Admit it," Lucas ignored Mike, angry eyes focused on Eleven.

Eleven shook her head. "No—"

"Admit it!" Lucas yelled, causing Eleven to flinch back. He shot his arm out, taking a hold of Eleven's and forcing the girl to show her jacket sleeve.

Sam was a lot surprised and a little nauseated to find there was blood stained there.

Lucas threw Eleven's arm down harshly. "Fresh blood! I knew it."

"Lucas, come on!" Mike tried.

"I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks!" Lucas argued. "She was using her powers!"

"Bull! That's old blood. Right, El?" Mike defended, addressing Eleven now.

But Eleven just stared back at him.

"Right, El?" Mike reiterated, more so begging than anything.

Eleven shook her head, seeming as if she were about to cry. "It's... not... It's not safe."

"What do you mean it's not safe?" Sam asked, holding in her anger. She despised raising her voice (in her head her mother said, People shout when they don't have the vocabulary to whisper), and she knew yelling would make everything worse. But she was annoyed. If Eleven knew it wasn't safe or knew something, she should've told them—not let them walk around for hours in the wrong direction. Will's life depended on them.

"I... I—"

"What did I tell you?!" Lucas interjected as he turned to face Mike. "She's been playing us from the beginning!"

Mike shook his head. "That's not true. She helped us find Will!"

"Find Will?" Lucas huffed, but there was no humor in the sound. "Find Will?" He pretended to look around the junkyard. "Where is he, then? Huh?! I don't see him!"

"You know what I mean!" Mike said, because Lucas was being purposefully difficult.

Lucas marched up to Mike. "No, I actually don't! Just think about it, Mike! She could've just told us where the Upside Down was right away, but she didn't! She just made us run around like headless chickens!"

"Alright!" Dustin said, attempting to stop the argument as he approached Lucas and Mike. "Calm down—"

"No!" Lucas shouted, his anger boiling. "She used us, all of us!"

"We're all upset," Sam said as she approached the boys, pushing Lucas and Mike away from each other and hitting them both with a diplomatic stare. "But this is getting us nowhere, and I'm sure Eleven has an explanation."

"If she did, we wouldn't be here!" Lucas yelled. "She helped just enough so she could get what she wants—food and a bed. She's like a stray dog."

"Screw you, Lucas!" Mike exclaimed.

Lucas pointed aggressively, getting all up in Mike's face. "No! Screw you, Mike! You're blind—blind because a girl other than Sam isn't grossed out by you! But wake up, man! Wake the hell up!" He inched back slightly to gesture at Eleven again. "She knows where Will is, and now she's just letting him die in the Upside Down."

"Shut up!"

"For all we know, it's her fault."

"Shut up!"

"We're looking for some stupid monster," Lucas continued, shoving Mike with his index finger, "but did you ever stop to think that maybe she's the monster?"

They all turned to look at Eleven, who was watching the argument with that same terrified and doe-eyed face. Sam was staring at Eleven, but for too long, because she missed the next sound that came from behind her.

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Sam whipped her head around, and next thing she saw, Mike was launching himself at Lucas. Lucas made a grunting yell as he was thrown to the ground harshly.

"Stop!" Eleven yelled.

"Guys, break it up, already!" Sam pleaded, worried about the boys' safety.

"Knock it off, you idiots!" Dustin cried.

Neither Lucas nor Mike listened. Instead, they kept shoving each other on the ground. They were groaning and growling as they fought one another.

"Quit being stupid before you get hurt!" Sam shouted.

"Mike, get off!" Dustin tried.

"Stop it!" Eleven yelled again.

But the two boys were too invested in their brawl. Lucas flipped their bodies over so he was over Mike, able to shove him deeper into the grass.

Eleven let out an ear-piecing shriek that echoed through the area. Sam winced at it and covered her ears, but her hands dropped the minute she saw Lucas flying off of Mike.

Lucas was flung through the air. He landed harshly to the ground against one of the scrapped pieces of metal.

"LUCAS!" Sam exclaimed, worry consuming her as she, Mike, and Dustin ran toward him.

"Jesus!" Dustin yelled

Sam was faster than all of them in reaching Lucas, followed by Dustin and Mike. She crouched down beside him, but he'd knocked his head on the metal too hard. He was unconscious.

"Lucas! Lucas!" Mike called his name as he and Dustin crouched on either side of Sam. The trio began shaking Lucas, hoping it would wake him up. "Lucas, are you alright?! Lucas!"

"Come on, Luke, wake up," Sam begged, shaking Lucas's arm. Her eyes stung. She hated crying in front of people, but she was too worried about Lucas to care.

"Lucas, say something!"

"Lucas, wake up! Lucas!"

"Come on, Lucas!"

While Sam and Dustin continued trying to get Lucas up, Mike turned and stood. His rage-filled gaze was now on Eleven.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" he berated. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Sam ignored the yelling behind her and the burning of her eyes. "This isn't funny, Lucas, please," but her voice came out all wrong and choked up. "Please, Lucas! Get up!"

"Come on, wake up, man!" Dustin was crying, trying to hit Lucas awake. "Come on!"

Mike whipped away from Eleven, all his focus now on getting his best friend up. He grabbed Lucas's shoulders, shaking him back and forth. "Lucas—Lucas, come on!"

We already lost Will, Sam. I'm not... I can't lose anyone else.

Sam couldn't lose anyone else either.

"LUCAS!" Sam begged—

This time, Lucas shot up with a gasp, as if being shocked awake. It looked like he was shivering, or even seizing.

A wave of relief washed over Sam. She heard Mike and Dustin let out grateful chuckles.

"You're not dead!" Sam felt like she could finally breathe again as Lucas sat up against the pile of metal scraps.

"Lucas... Lucas, you okay?" Mike hesitantly asked.

"Lucas..." Dustin held up three fingers. "Lucas, how many fingers am I holding up? Lucas, how many fingers?!"

Lucas looked terribly disoriented, hand slowly rising to rub the top of his head. They all noticed this, but Mike was the first to act upon it.

He reached for the back of Lucas's head. "Let me see your head—"

"Get off of me!" Lucas snapped out of it, slapping Mike's arm away with a newfound anger. He began rising off the ground, looking at and addressing no one.

"Just..." Mike trailed off guiltily, trying to find the words to say. "Lucas, just let me see."

He brought up his arm again, outstretched to try and check on his best friend. The three party members were trying to stand along with Lucas, but he was faster than them. He hit Mike away, pushing through them.

"Get off of me!" he tried yelling in anger, but Sam heard how choked up he was—there were tears threatening to fall at any second.

They watched Lucas walk away. Sam knew he was mad, but she didn't want him by himself while possibly still injured. She didn't want him by himself at all.

"Lucas, you can't go home like this," Sam insisted, empathetically feeling her eyes get wet again. For a second, it looked as if Lucas stopped in his tracks, but that wasn't the case. He continued walking.

Mike tried following him, pleading, "Lucas, come on—"

Dustin grabbed Mike's arm, yanking him to stay back.

"Let him go," Dustin advised. Lucas continued marching without turning his back. "Man, let him go..."

A beat of silence.

Mike looked around the area.

"Where's El?"

Dustin gazed around the junkyard while Sam still couldn't pull her eyes away from where Lucas left. There were scraps and piles of metal, but no Eleven.

"She's gone."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Published: January 14, 2024
Re-published: October 30, 2025

BAILEY YAPS...

I think it should be noted in the og version of the story, this chapter was the author notes where I said I was wondering what Sam's godly parent would be

By now I stand by the idea that she's lowkey the Apollo kid of all time. But I will take other arguments. And I do think she would also be a legacy of Zeus.

(Don't even get me started on her Hogwarts House because that is an ongoing debate of which I still can't decide between Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw) 

Corey is absolutely 100% a son of Ares without a doubt. With the additional daddy issues and all.

Also I think about the tragedy of the Hughes family every day like wdym the literal whole town loved Diane and Anthony and wdym they died four days before Sam's birthday going out to buy her birthday present and wdym "Stephanie always felt better when seeing Sam smile. Sam knew it had a lot to do with Stephanie feeling responsible for her little sister's well-being after their parents' death" and wdym "Sam felt better when seeing Stephanie smile too."