CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.
2x09: The Gate

Sam sat in the passenger seat of Billy's car, trying to externally hide her internal panic as much as possible.

Max was the one tasked with driving them, as she was the only one with any driving experience—though all it may be was a lap around a parking lot. Next to her, Sam was tasked with being the navigator. In the backseat, Lucas, Corey, Mike, and Dustin were all squished against each other. There was an unconscious, bloodied, and beaten Steve Harrington laying across their laps; they were treating (or at least trying to) Steve's severe wounds from Billy, and Sam made sure that Steve's head was in Lucas's lap, because she trusted him most to know the correct medical skills.

The group was riding in a tense silence, and it was tense for a number of reasons. Sam's was the fact that Max was a horrible driver, which didn't combat well with sam's already pre-existing car trauma, but she was trying not to let it show for Max. She didn't want Max to freak out and drive even worse.

"That was really awesome what you did back there," Max broke the silence quietly, head glancing to Sam for a moment, until Mike hissed at her to keep her eyes on the road when she almost swerved. "With the gun and protecting us and Billy and everything. I can't believe when we met you thought I was the cool one."

Since Sam wasn't driving, she could peel her eyes from the road and focus her gaze on Max. Worried, her eyebrows furrowed. "You're not mad at me? For pointing a gun at him?"

"No, I," Max sighed, deflating for a minute before stretching up so she could see over the dashboard, "I knew what you were doing. I knew you weren't actually going to shoot him. You promised you wouldn't."

Sam felt a little mad at herself, and her lips pressed together in embarrassment. "Yeah, well... he knew I wasn't gonna shoot him too. He almost tried killing me."

"But he didn't," Max countered.

"Because of you," Sam added. Her defeated mood was gone quick, and a small smile was planted on her face. "You saved us back there, Max. I told you that you were cool."

Max laughed fondly, ignoring Mike's panicking that Max should be more focused on the road.

"Okay, fine," Max conceded. "We're both cool or whatever."

"Or whatever," Sam echoed in a light-hearted mocking tone. Max could hear the grin in her voice, although she couldn't turn to see it.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Nancy?"

Sam turned around in the passenger seat to look at the back, listening to Steve's slurring voice. From what she could see, Steve was slowly waking up, eyes trained on Mike in disorientation. Before Sam turned around to continue reading the map, she watched Mike's face screw up, appalled that Steve referred to him as his sister.

"Oh," Steve mumbled, his vision focusing to see it was Mike and not Nancy. He groaned, moving a hand to touch one of the cuts on his face, which happened to be by his eyes.

"No, don't let him touch it," Dustin stressed, all the way at the end with Steve's feet in his lap. Corey grabbed Steve's hands and shoved them away from his face, very annoyed with the position he was stuck in. "Hey buddy," Dustin cooed. "Shh, it's okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass and the girls had to step in to save the day, but you put up a good fight. You're okay."

"What... wha's going on?"

"Okay, you're gonna keep straight for half a mile, then take a left on Mount Sinai," Sam told Max, looking up from the large map in her lap.

Steve's eyes went from the girl in the passenger seat to the girl in the driver's seat. It was like a slap in the face, and then reality hit him. There was a thirteen-year-old driving a car and those stupid fucking kids were going to the stupid fucking tunnels.

"Oh my God!" Steve yelled, clearly panicking.

Corey groaned. "I told you guys he would freak!"

"Steve, relax, she's driven before!" Dustin said calmly.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, in a parking lot!"

"That counts!" Lucas defended Max.

"Oh my God!" Steve was definitely freaking out.

Dustin wanted to convince Steve that this situation was ideal. "They were gonna leave you behind—"

"Oh my God!" Steve exclaimed as Max started to go faster.

"I promised that you'd be cool, okay?" Dustin said hastily.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah! What's going on?!" Steve panicked in a muffled, slurring voice. Max pressed her foot on the gas—or, her foot pressed the boxes they'd taped to the gas pedal so she could reach—and Steve was yelling, "WOAHHHH!"

Corey was growing increasingly more uncomfortable with how much Steve was squirming, especially since there were four people in the back that kept being knocked against each other. His arms and legs were pressed up close to Lucas and Mike, touching at every point. Corey was way too claustrophobic for this.

Mike noticed Corey's discontent, and snapped at Dustin with, "I knew we shouldn't have let him come!"

"Oh my God. No! Woah! Stop the car! Slow down!" Steve went to grab anything that was near him, and he ended up patting his hands all over Corey and Mike's faces. Mike hit Steve's hands off of the uncomfortable Corey, who was contemplating throwing Steve out the window. "STOP THE CAR!"

"Steve, I'm gonna kill you!" Corey threatened, and he wasn't joking.

"Do not kill him!" Dustin hissed, knowing Corey's threat was real.

Trying to calm Corey down, Mike placed a hand at the back of Corey's neck, thumb rubbing up and down the bone there. Mike watched Corey's shoulders fall limp, no longer tense, despite everyone screaming and yelling around them.

"God, his stupid hair is getting into my mouth!" Lucas complained.

"STOP THE CAR—!"

"Everybody, SHUT UP!" Max screamed. "I'm trying to focus!"

Sam's eyes widened when she looked back down at the map, then back outside, then back at the map. "Oh, wait!" she realized, tapping at Max's shoulder and pointing at the dark earth outside the windshield. "That's Mount Sinai! Make a left!"

"What?"

"Make a left!" Sam exclaimed.

Max swore before she quickly spun the wheel. Lucas let out a girlish shriek, Steve released a bellowing cry, and Sam had accepted their fate. They transformed into rag dolls, each passenger thrashing in their seats. Shoulders clashed against shoulders, butts slid from off the leather. Then, Max stomped on the brakes—the tires screeched, and they jolted forward.

"Hello!" Steve screamed.

He exhaled, his chest falling flat. They had come to a complete halt.

Mike blinked in awe. "Incredible."

"Told you." Max pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Zoomer."

She got out of the car first, and everyone began to follow. Sam shut the passenger door behind her, watching the boys file out. Corey practically threw himself out of the car gratefully, and a part of Sam wondered if he was about to kiss the ground. She let him do his thing while she walked to the trunk with everyone else.

In the mess of it all, they had collected supplies—masks, bandanas, hockey sticks, gasoline, lighters, full body gear, Sam's gun, Corey's axe, etc. Why the Byers had all this, it was a mystery. But after all working together to manage an unconscious Steve into the car, they'd stuffed the trunk. Now it was going to be put to use.

Then, Mike—who had gotten out from the opposite side—jogged around the entire car just so he could make it to Corey. Mike's fingers wrapped around his wrist, and Corey jolted out of the hands-on-his-knees-breathing-in-and-out-in-relief position he'd been in before.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked, eyes furrowed unconsciously as he stared at the boy before him.

Why the fuck is he holding my wrist again? Why the fuck is he holding my wrist again?

Corey stared dumbly back at Mike, barely even hearing what Mike was saying to him. All he could really think was Mike, Mike, Mike, but then there was an echo in the back of his head—the voice of his conscious that just sounded exactly like Sam—that whispered Eleven. Then, Corey remembered.

"I'm fine," Corey responded shortly. He wrenched himself out of Mike's grip and headed for the trunk.

There, Sam and Dustin had just chaotically heaved a tank of gasoline from the trunk to the grass. They beamed at each other in excitement of their accomplishment, sharing a high-five. By that point, when the kids had loaded a good amount of their supplies from the trunk, they heard Steve tumble out of their car, landing in the hard grass with a groan.

"Guys," he grumbled, but was ignored.

Sam tied an old, yellow bandana around her head so that the triangle flap covered her mouth. Then she reached into the trunk for one pair of the goggles they'd brought, and fumbled to rest them over her forehead, not quite protecting her eyes yet. The party members around her were doing the same, as they'd brought enough of both bandanas and goggles and gloves for everyone—even Steve.

Sam proceeded to carefully snatch her shotgun from the trunk with the intention to reload it with spare shells that had been in the pile of junk thrown out of the shed. Once the magazine tube was full again, she held in the action release button and pumped the slide backwards before pumping it forwards to load the chamber.

"Oh, no," Steve groaned, resting against the car to help him stand. "Guys."

Once Mike finished tying a plaid Christmas scarf around the lower half of his face, had the goggles situated over his eyes, and snapped on a yellow pair of rubber kitchen gloves, he grabbed two tanks of the gasoline and started walking towards the hole they'd found Hopper at.

"Hey." Steve's head snapped to Mike, a blur of black hair passing him by. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

From the trunk, Sam also pulled out a Maglite flashlight and a roll of duct tape. She wouldn't be able to hold both a flashlight and aim her shotgun at once, so she was going to tape the flashlight onto the barrel of the shotgun for brighter vision. Sam positioned the Maglite underneath the shotgun's barrel so that she could still peer over the barrel without anything interrupting her line of sight. Her teeth held the tape in her mouth, and she used her free hand to grab the end of the roll. She began wrapping the tape around and around and around the end of the shotgun, attaching the Maglite to the bottom of the shotgun. After testing the secureness of her addition, Sam nodded, satisfied, and turned the flashlight on. Then, because Billy had made Sam bleed again, she wrapped the rest of the duct tape around the roll of gauze securing her torso.

What? She didn't want to pass out from blood loss in the middle of interdimensional tunnels taking over the town of Hawkins.

"What are you, deaf? Hello?" Steve called, upon being ignored.

Corey swung the axe out of the trunk, making sure not to slice off anyone's head in the process. In his other hand, he took multiple cords of thick rope and brought them to the front of Billy's car. Crouching in front of the Camaro, he made sure to tie the rope in strong, unyielding knots underneath it, where there was a metal rod. The party was going to throw it down the hole and use it as their way of getting up and down.

"We are not going down there right now," Steve ordered. "I made myself clear."

Sam threw on a brown jacket that belonged to Joyce over her sweater for better external protection. She then packed her bag, loading it with anything they might need down in the tunnels. For precaution, she was only allowing herself to hold one thing—the shotgun; so, everything else she had to use was being stuffed in her bag. A canister of gasoline, a map of directions she'd drawn out navigating the path they needed to take, extra boxes of bullets, a bigger flashlight. It was all in there, along with whatever had been in there before (her Walkman, mixtapes, broken walkie, etc). After finally zipping up her backpack, Sam threw both straps over her shoulders, officially ready.

"Hey, there is no chance we are going to that hole, alright?"

The Byers had a limited number of bags in their household, so Lucas would have to do without one. Somehow, instead of a normal bag supply, they had a container tank which could be worn on your back with a hose attachment that sprayed whatever was inside. He filled the entire thing to the brim with gasoline, letting Dustin have Joyce's tote bag. Dustin was the last one to strap up. And as he filled Joyce's tote bag with extra cloth material—

"This ends right now!" Steve bellowed, snatching Joyce's tote from Dustin in agitation.

"Steve!" Dustin steadied Steve, staring back at the beaten teen with huge goggles that covered his nose and one of Joyce's scarves over his face. "You're upset, I get it. But the bottom line is: a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance. Now I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe," Dustin reached inside of the trunk and pulled out a pre-packed bag that had the nail bat sticking out of it, then shoved it into Steve's chest, "so keep us safe."

Steve sighed in defeat. Accepting that they'd actually be going into the hole, he grabbed the bag.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam took whatever expectations she'd been having for the tunnels and threw them straight out the window, because this was insane. When Steve dropped down from the hole last, he commented, "Holy shit."

Holy shit was right. All that hung in her vision were particles, like dust threatening to push past the goggles and bandana protecting her face; everywhere was gray, disgustingly gray; the sticky, slimy walls felt like they were going to close in; and the smell was rotten, thick, and nauseating.

Everything was just horrible down here, and it made Sam's chest constrict in that painful, biting cold.

"We have to go this way," Mike announced, flashlight shining to the right of where they'd hopped down the hole.

Sam sent him disbelieving look, which he could read even with all the facial protection. "Are you sure?" she asked, because how the hell would he know? Sam was with Mike the last time they visited the decayed pumpkin patch, and she knew for a fact they didn't go into these tunnels—Will was too busy having a seizure like a lunatic.

"Okay, fine, let me see your map," Mike said, rolling his eyes behind the swimming goggles.

Sam exhaled in annoyance at Mike's bossiness. She turned around, facing her back to him so he had a plain view of her bag. "It's in my bag," she said. "I'm holding the gun, so grab it yourself."

And for a little, it was just Mike rummaging in Sam's bag. She swayed a little at the force of Mike's nosy hand, pushing past mixtapes and bullets and every other random thing Sam kept in there until he found the map. It was a crumpled white piece of paper with black lines drawn on it in marker. Where Sam believed the hub to be, there was a bright, red X.

"Okay, if we're here," Mike analyzed the map, "then we'd have to go there to make it to the X." But he wasn't even sure if he believed himself. "Right?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. It's so dark in here, I can't even see the map."

Mike sighed. He clicked on his flashlight, shining it so both of them could better analyze the paper in his hands. Everyone else had yet to move; they were still looking around the tunnels, processing just how weird it was down here.

"Yeah," Mike started, more confidently this time, "I'm pretty sure it's this way!"

Sam still didn't understand what his certainty was for, because the map gave no indication going to the right was the right direction. Dustin took his attention from the squishy ground, looking up at Mike with his flashlight.

"You're pretty sure, or you're certain?" he asked.

"I'm 100% sure!" Mike turned around to face his disbelieving friends. "Just follow me and you'll know!"

Mike pivoted back around. He took a confident step forward, ready to lead everyone to where the hub was.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Steve shouted, and Mike immediately jumped back in fear that something was wrong. "Hey, hey, hey, hey. I don't think so!"

"What?" Mike questioned as Steve walked up to him.

Steve shined the flashlight in Mike's face. "Any of you little shits die down here, I'm getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?" He promptly snatched Sam's poorly-drawn map from Mike's hands. He turned his head and amplified his voice so everyone could hear him when he exclaimed, "From here on out, I'm leading the way! Come on, let's go!"

"And I thought no one could get bossier than Mike," Lucas muttered under his breath as everyone began running off after Steve.

Corey broke into laughter, having heard Lucas's mumble.

"Come on!" Steve snapped again, when Corey and Lucas were taking too long for his liking. They shared looks, and finally joined the group with jogs.

As Sam ran through the tunnels, she held the shotgun firmly, end wedged into her shoulder pocket, ready to aim anywhere. Her shotgun-flashlight was holding up nicely, and she internally patted herself on the back until Steve snapped at them again.

"Hey, a little hustle!"

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

For the most part, they walked down the tunnels in silence—save for Sam trying to either make conversation or tell a joke, because she couldn't stay quiet for more than three seconds.

Something dripped above. Lucas sniffled. Max's jacket brushed against her arm. A flashlight shone in her eyes. Corey stepped on the back of her no-longer-white sneakers—she stumbled forward.

"Do that again," Sam side-eyed him with a glare, "and I'm gonna shove your face into this Demogorgon goo."

"Maybe you should walk faster!"

"Maybe you should control where your giant feet are stepping!"

"Maybe—"

Corey's retort was cut off by the sound of an ear-splitting cry. Sam's face fell. Her green eyes shot down the tunnel, gun pointing in the exact direction she'd heard it. She rushed past the others, sneakers crushing against the slime-covered floor.

Dustin was rolling around, the palms of his hands pressed to the ground and his face drawn together in panic and disgust. "HELP! HELP!" he cried, coughing.

"What is it?" Sam panicked, shotgun searching around for any potential threats to shoot, though she didn't see anything.

"What happened?! What happened?!" Steve pushed through the kids that were bending in front of Dustin on the ground.

"It's in my mouth!" Dustin whined. "Some got in my mouth! SHIT!"

Sam paused, and immediately stopped looking around for something to shoot. She sent Dustin a confused face instead, because she'd thought something was attacking him.

Dustin was on his hands and knees, everyone shining their flashlights on him as they watched him cough and hack like mad. Finally, he spit before he kneeled up to look at everyone.

"I'm okay," he said innocently, as if he hadn't given everyone five hundred panic attacks just now.

For a few moments, everyone stared back at him incredulously. Then, they all deflated in agitated sighs and passive aggressive exhales. Sam tried to catch her breath as she lowered the aim of her gun to the ground.

"You serious?" Max scoffed.

Steve glared, shining the flashlight in Dustin's face. "Very funny, man. Nice. Very nice."

Everyone turned back around as they walked away from Dustin. The drama queen got up from the ground, trailing after his annoyed friends and situating his bandana back over her mouth sadly.

"Jesus, what an idiot," Max said.

Sam nudged her in the side with her bicep. "Be nice," she chided, in her disappointed tone.

"He just scared the living crap out of us because he was dumb enough to take the scarf off!" Max cried.

"He can hear you!" Dustin returned, having finally caught up with the group.

Max tossed her head back to glare at him. "Yeah, I don't care. Idiot."

"Max."

"Fine," Max groaned. "Sorry," she said, "that you're an idiot."

"Max!"

"It's funny, Sam!"

"Shut up, Corey!"

Sam whipped around to face her cousin, the tip of the gun pointing right at his face. Finally, Corey listened to Sam and shut up.

They continued walking in that tense silence. Sam heard the squelching beneath her feet, her own breathing, and the cans of gasoline sloshing behind her. It was hard to breathe—her lungs were tight and her face was hot. A fleeting moment passed, and Steve broke the silence.

"Alright, Goldie," he sighed, fumbling with the map. "I think we found your hub."

Sam looked up, stopping next to Steve finally. She visually analyzed where they were standing. This wasn't like the claustrophobic tunnels they'd been walking in—no, this area was open. It was like, bigger than the Byers' kitchen and living room combined. It was a large spanse of area surrounded by the wretched, living vines. It was a place where all the tunnels connected in one, huge juncture.

It was the hub.

"Let's drench it," Sam said firmly.

She wanted to burn this bitch to the ground.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam felt gasoline splash at her feet. The hazy liquid covered her ruined sneakers and flooded over the worm-like vines. Her gasoline container was nearly empty—with each tip downwards, the tank grew lighter. The smell of gas burned her nostrils, making her eyes water.

She felt unarmed and defenseless without the shotgun in her hands, so she wanted this done quickly. A pit of nausea mixed deep in her gut, partially from the pungent smell of the gasoline and partially from the nerves. Her vision felt foggy.

Sam tightened her fingers around the gasoline container, flipped it over, and watched as the remaining bits dropped to the ground. She quickly pulled out the shotgun she wedged between her bag and back with one hand. She clutched it firmly again, making sure she was ready to shoot at all times—yes, her hands were cramped and shaking tiredly, but she didn't care right now.

Sam looked around, making sure all of her friends were doing fine. It seemed they were all finishing up their tanks of gasoline around the same time. When each of them finished, they walked over to the tunnel opposite of the one they came in from, so they could circle back to the entrance; everything was connected, so the path should work out.

Steve stood in front of the six, reaching into the left pocket of his gray jacket and taking out a lighter. He rolled the pad of his thumb over the spark wheel, watching the flame ignite, and let his chest fall.

"Alright, everyone start heading back to the exit! I don't want a chance of you shitbirds getting burned!"

"No!" Corey called back.

"Excuse me?"

Sam shifted her gun, as the tiredness of her arms was really starting to get to her. "We're not leaving you behind, Steve!"

"Oh my God, you kids are insufferable, you know that?" Steve glared, sending them all upset looks at the realization they'd be staying for the burning.

Dustin huffed. "You're the one who's babysitting us, so what does that say about you?"

"That he's a loser whose only friends now are children—?" Max answered.

"I can set one of you guys on fire," Steve snapped over Corey and Mike's laughter. "How about that?"

"Or," Sam tilted her head, "you can set this hub on fire with all of us here, making sure you don't get burned either."

And, damn. Steve's heartstrings really twinged at that. They actually cared about him, which was... nice. That was really nice. He wasn't really used to that anymore, so. Well.

Maybe he should've been a babysitter this whole time.

"Fine," Steve forced an annoyed conviction to his tone, rolling his eyes as he tried not to show the fact was entirely heart-warmed by this random blonde girl behind him. "But stay back, or we're all getting burned."

Lucas saluted with a nod. "Copy that, Steven."

Steve growled, now actually annoyed, but he was learning to pick his battles. That was the next life lesson he needed, because clearly he was shit at that too. So he elected not to snap back at Lucas for the nickname and faced the hub again. He lit the lighter again, a small, orange flame dancing from the tip of it.

Steve reeled his arm back and chucked the lighter from his fingers. Sam watched as it fell to the bottom of the hub, and shiny metal sparkled in contrast to the tangled vines.

Then the fire exploded.

Hot, orange flames shone in her eyes, the heat waves flushing over her cheeks. Sweat-beads glistened on her forehead. The air in her throat thickened.

"GO!" Steve shouted. His hand flew to the small of Sam's back. He nudged her and urged the group to move forward.

Sam's knees shook. She hated running, yet she'd been doing a lot of it the past couple of days. Her legs pushed as far as they could take her in as quickly as possible, feet pressing to the mass of vines. She felt heat behind her—the fire beat against her clothed back. She could hear the flames, a faint crackling, a roaring blaze.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Steve had run all the way so that he was ahead again. He frantically looked at the map, looked to see all the kids were behind him, and looked to see where he was going without even stumbling once.

They took twists and turns, following in Steve's rapid footsteps, desperately running for the hole they came in through. The Demodogs would be making it to the hub soon, and those creatures were much faster, so they needed to get far away.

But a voice tracked through the flames.

"HELP! HELP!" Mike cried. He clawed at the floor, his broken voice lost in his throat. "HELP!"

Sam's face fell. Her heart dropped. The anxious knot in her stomach tightened. Mike wasn't one to cry for help—not like Dustin, the boy who cried wolf. Sam knew, this time, something was actually wrong. Very wrong.

She ran faster, impossibly faster, towards the sound of her best friend's voice. When she found him, one of the living vines had wrapped around his ankle, holding him firm. Lucas and Dustin were already there, trying to pull Mike out of its grip. Not even thinking through her panic, Sam threw the shotgun to the floor and joined them as she tried to help Mike.

"MIKE?!" came Corey's rarely-desperate voice.

Sam, Lucas, and Dustin tried heaving Mike out with all of their strength, but he wouldn't budge. Mike continued screaming and crying for help, the tentacle around his ankle squeezing tighter.

In the next second, Corey, Max, and Steve found where everyone else was. It was easy to spot the four frenzied kids before them, three of them surrounding Mike, tugging fiercely.

"Holy shit, Mike!" Corey cried.

Corey pushed through Max and Steve, running straight for Mike.

"Move back, move back!" he shouted.

Reaching behind him, Corey's hand wrapped around the axe tucked away in his backpack. His sweaty palms pressed to the wooden handle. Corey lifted the weapon above his head, and he struck the axe against the vine withholding Mike's limb as hard as he could.

In just one hit, Corey had swung so hard that the vine was cut clean, dead and inert.

Mike pushed with his hands and feet backwards the moment he realized Corey freed him. His back ran into Sam, Lucas, and Dustin, who were grabbing him quickly and helping Mike scramble up.

"You good?"

"You okay?"

"Are you hurt?"

But it was Corey who Mike was hugging in the next breath. His arms were diagonal, one over Corey's shoulder and the other under his arm, hands planted on his back and squeezing warmly.

Mike had never done this before.

"Jesus," Mike panted, and it was so low, so close to Corey's ear he thought he was going to combust. "Thank you. I thought I was gonna die."

Corey laughed nervously, unsure of what his arms should do. One of them remained still, holding the axe, while his other arm wrapped around Mike's neck.

"You don't have to thank me, Mike," Corey murmured, desperately wishing he could just drop the sharp axe in his hands to feel what it was like to really hug Mike Wheeler.

"I like when you call me Mike," he confessed, so quiet only Corey could hear. "Please stop calling me Wheeler."

Corey leaned back a little, so that he could make incredulous eye contact with Mike. "You're making requests when I just saved your life—?"

A gut-wrenching chittering overpowered the sound of everything else around them. Sam stumbled and quickly ran to pick up her shotgun again. Standing in front of all of her friends, even forcing herself in front of Steve, she aimed the top of her gun right at a Demodog that had just appeared. It pressed its claws to the ground of the tunnel, its flower-shaped mouth fluctuating.

Sam's fingers tightened around the gun, and suddenly it felt like she couldn't breathe.

Sam cried out as a big gray something barreled through the hospital doors and into her, slamming her back into the ground hard. There was a second where everything seemed to freeze. There was Bob and Joyce simultaneously yelling out in horror, and there was the Demogorgon dog, claws pressing her into the ground, gaping flower-shaped maw hovering right above her. This only lasted a second though, before everything came rushing back to real speed.

Dustin pushed a frozen Sam's grip on the gun down to the floor. "Dart."

Hot white pain shot through her side, and Sam screamed as the Demogorgon dog's teeth dug into her, clamping down and tearing the flesh with a sickening ripping sound that brought bile to Sam's throat. The gun clattered out of her hands, and Sam couldn't do anything about it. Her shout was different this time. It was a sob, heavy and emotional, a beg for help.

The Demodog stared back at Dustin, unmoving. Dustin began walking closer to Dart, causing everyone—save for Sam—to yell for him to get away. He just waved a hand back at them dismissively, eyes glued on Dart.

"PLEASE! PLEASE STOP, I'M SORRY! I-I'M SORRY—" but she was cut off by a blood-curdling shriek that pushed past her lips and came straight from her gut. The sound was laced with pain and horror. The torture had become raw and consuming.

"Hey," Dustin started, pulling down his bandana and pushing up his goggles to show his face. "It's me. It's me. It's just your friend, it's Dustin. It's Dustin, alright?"

The next part happened in a blur. Suddenly, somehow, someone was tackling the monster in Sam's wake, forcing the creature off of her.

Dustin crouched a foot away from Dart, speaking gently and showing his harmlessness. Internally, he was hoping Dart would behave the same.

"NO!" Sam reached for him. "BOB!"

"You remember me?" Dustin asked, because Dart had grown so big since the last time they saw each other. "Will you let us pass?"

When Sam snapped out of her glassy-eyed daze, there was a fucking Demodog roaring in Dustin's face. Dustin, who had willingly gotten inches away from the monster. Sam stiffened, and she realized when her mind wandered, her grip had gone slack on the gun. She readjusted the gun, now tense, and aimed straight at the Demodog.

"What the fuck is he doing?" Sam whispered in a strained voice.

"He says it's Dart," Corey whispered back, watching Dustin and the beast with wide eyes.

Dustin was sticking out tentative hands, saying, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchey thing to do."

"I'm shooting it," Sam decided in a mutter, finger moving over the trigger. She had a clear shot of the Demodog—up until someone grabbed the barrel and forced Sam to face them with the gun instead.

"Sam, no," Lucas pleaded quietly, stupidly putting himself in front of the gun.

Sam stared back at him, her face screwing up in almost a betrayed manner. "Those things killed—"

"I know, Sam," Lucas cut her off softly, yet urgently. He nodded to the side, where Dustin and Dart were. "But look. I think whatever he's doing is actually working."

Dustin was reaching into his back pocket. "You hungry? Yeah?"

Sam got distracted with the gentle way Dustin was interacting with the creature. Her hands softened a little as the gun fell a few inches low.

"I've got our favorite," Dustin offered, now holding a 3 Musketeers in his hand. "See? Nougat."

Next thing Sam knew, Dustin was opening up the 3 Musketeers candy bar, breaking it into pieces and placing them on the ground with a delicateness.

The shotgun dropped completely to Sam's side, in only one of her hands now as panic flooded her chest. She stared at the Demodog—its line of teeth, its slime-covered scales, it's blood-covered claws, the flaps of its mouth—and all she could think was that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair Dart was being so gentle, when the Demodogs in the lab hadn't been. It wasn't fair Dart was calm and timid, when Sam had to be mauled by one. It wasn't fair Dustin could kneel before Dart without getting attacked, when Bob had to be brutally murdered by one. A golden B burned in between her collarbones, and none of it was fair. Dustin was feeding the goddamn creature. He was waving a hand in front of him, signaling for everyone to pass through.

"Oh my God," Sam rasped. Now it was Corey's turn to grab her hand, his fingers interlocking hers for support. He pulled her, physically, and straight from her trance.

They started running again. Sam was pretty sure her legs were shaking in either fear or exhaustion or both. She breathed heavily, inhaling the fumes of the fire, and her own recycled carbon dioxide. Charred particles hung in the air and floated across her goggles.

Steve continued leading them in the path the map advised him to go. It was harder, since they weren't retracting their steps and instead going in a circle, but he was doing a good job.

"Come on, let's go! Let's go!" he yelled, hopping over a thicker vine with ease. When his feet hit the ground again, the floor beneath them began to shake.

There was a rumbling sound all around, and everything rattled so much that Sam tripped all the way to the ground with the shotgun in her hand. She groaned in pain, landing on her right side, but she made sure not to make the same mistake twice and drop her gun.

Dustin helped her stand up, having to get off his ass too, because he also fell. Sam sent him a nod that thanked him.

"What was that?" Max asked worriedly.

And then came the multiple loud roarings from behind.

The group whipped around, flashlights following to find something that might answer Max's question. Sam heard the familiar screeching and chittering. She shared a scared look with Mike.

"They're coming," Mike answered, and they all knew who they were.

"Run," Sam urged, turning back around so she could continue their journey. "RUN!"

They wasted no time in listening to Sam's instruction, resuming their sprinting at a faster pace than ever before. Sam jumped over a vine so she wouldn't trip again. Her legs burned. Her side burned. Her throat burned. She was tired, but she ran. With each sickeningly wet crunch, she was a step closer to the exit.

Everyone was running in a jumble together, throwing themselves against each other at every abrupt turn. Lucas ended up in the front, and he was first to see a light at the end of the tunnel—literally. In the distance, a thick cord of rope hung down from the ceiling.

"There, there!" Lucas pointed, shouting desperately.

"Come on! Let's go!" Steve screamed. "Let's go!"

Sam made sure she was behind her line of friends. She squinted to watch Steve heave Max up first, and she began climbing up the rope with everything in her. As she made it to the top, Steve sent up Lucas, and Max threw out a hand for him to grab.

Then Mike was grabbed and desperately climbing the rope. Lucas and Max both took a hand, mustering all their strength and yanking Mike out of the hole. Corey was strong enough to climb up the rope on his own, but Steve still assisted him anyway. The second Corey was in reach, Mike grabbed him into his arms and they fell backwards together into the dirt.

Steve let out a strangled shriek as he helped Dustin, who was second to last. All of his friends lifted him so that he could join him, and then he was out of the tunnels too.

As Steve wrapped an arm around Sam's left side—not both sides so he didn't hurt her—monsters shrieked louder in the distance. Sam whipped around to see impending shadows shrinking, getting closer.

"Shit!" Steve hissed, moving away from Sam and grabbing his nail bat again. He pushed Sam behind him protectively. "Here, stay back."

"I'm holding a gun, Steve!" Sam exclaimed, holding the barrel readily over Steve's arm that was trying to push her back.

The shadows took on the shape of Demodogs—so many Demodogs—and Sam's entire heart dropped. She could hear their roars. She could tell how fast they were running towards them.

"I don't care, Sam," Steve muttered, and—wow, the this is important so I'm using your actual name thing again. "Stay back!"

Sam ignored him, pulling her grip up on the gun, holding it firmer.

"Sam! Come on!" Mike was screaming from outside of the hold, holding a desperate hand that he needed her to take.

The Demodogs turned the corner to where Sam and Steve were, and... nothing happened.

Literally nothing happened.

The Demodogs ran right towards them, making Sam think they were definitely doing to attack, but that wasn't the case. The Demodogs just moved right around them as if they didn't exist.

Sam felt their slimy bodies graze against her leg, their sharp claws narrowly missing her feet. Steve snapped out a hand, wrapping it around Sam's front and pulling her into his chest protectively. Tucked into Steve, the gun dropped from Sam's hands in surprise, and one of them held Steve's forearm for comfort. They watched the Demodogs run from behind them to in front of them, not giving a single damn about Sam or Steve.

"Eleven," Mike muttered.

Once they were all sure it was over, Lucas, Corey, Max, Mike, and Dustin pulled Sam and Steve up and out of the tunnels. Everyone took a breath of relief.

The headlights of Billy's car began to shine clearer than before. They kept getting bright, and it was almost blinding. The group had to shield their eyes from it.

The lights went back to their normal state, and that's when they knew—

Eleven had closed the Gate.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

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

BAILEY YAPS...

The Steve in the car scene makes me die of laughter EVERY time I watch it, and Lucas's scream is so fucking funny. Goodnight. They're just silly little kids your honor

Writing Sam is like "oh, she's doing all this badass stuff" and then I actually envision her and she's just this tiny little unassuming blonde girl. I love her

And I love how Sam is :D :) with everyone but actually murderous with Corey. And Corey is murderous with everyone but :D :) with Mike