CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.
4x02: Vecna's Curse

August Santos was sort of a loser.

Okay, correction.

He was a major loser.

August Santos was a major loser, and he was well aware of it—there were many attributes of his life that supported this truth. For two years he was the only person in the AV Club, because after sophomore year the two seniors who did it with him graduated; he was obsessed with movies to an unhealthy degree; but he steered away from renting them at familyVideo because he refused to have a repeat of last summer (it was too embarrassing to even repeat for the readers); he'd lived in the trailer park off Roane County since his dad up and booked it when he was four; his only friend was a freshman with the soul of a fifty-year-old woman who'd lived through ten wars; his favorite t-shirt of his favorite band—The Smiths—was stolen from a dumpster.

Going back to the freshman with the soul of a fifty-year-old woman who'd lived through ten wars:

Auggie had been nervous all night. He'd barely gotten any sleep last night because of her.

You see, the thing was, Sam left a drawing on her desk in the AV room—her own drawing, to be specific.

And it was a picture of Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham going into Eddie's trailer at night.

And last night Auggie saw Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham going into Eddie's trailer.

And this morning there was a multitude of cops interrogating Wayne Munson (Eddie's uncle) outside their trailer.

Had Auggie ever seen Chrissy leave?

"Corazón, entra en la casa," his mom said in her Latin accent. "No quiero que estos cerdos nos causen problemas."

Auggie turned his head down to see his oh-so short mother out of the trailer now too. He was trying to inspect what was really going on, but it was hard, because while his trailer was to the left of Eddie's, it was still a good bit away.

"Un segundo, Mamá, te lo prometo," Auggie assured.

His mom squeezed his hand before she entered back inside.

Right across from Eddie's trailer, Auggie saw that Maxine (Max) Mayfield was outside too, trying to do the same thing as Auggie. Auggie knew enough about Max—he knew Sam and Max used to be best friends, he knew Max's step-brother died in the mall fire, he knew Max and her mother had to move into the trailer park after, and he knew Sam and Max were no longer best friends.

Going against his mother's wishes (Lo siento, Mamá), Auggie took a few steps closer to the Munson trailer. It was all just way too suspicious—Sam's drawing, seeing it come to life last night, and the cops outside the trailer now. Auggie had to know.

His footsteps grew closer and closer. He got just the right angle to be able to see it—

Chrissy Cunningham, dead on the trailer floor.

"Hey!" A hand clamped on Auggie's shoulder, and he wheeled around with a terrified gasp. A cop stared down at him with stern eyes. "You can't be out here. Get back inside."

Auggie couldn't help his head from whipping back towards the trailer though. Chrissy's body was face down, her limbs broken and bent all the way backwards.

"Back inside!" the cop repeated, having no care for Auggie's panic.

Auggie jogged away, an unsettling feeling in his chest. He tried to calm his breathing as he ran towards his neighbor's trailer on the other side.

He didn't get back inside, he didn't listen to the cop.

Auggie stole one of his neighbor's bikes (Sorry, Bell family) before mounting it and pedaling out of the trailer park before anyone could stop him.

Auggie needed to see Sam.

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Samantha Hughes had nightmares every night—a well-known fact amongst those who have either had to sleep in the same vicinity as her or those she had confided in.

Some nights her mind was kind to her; Sam would have a nightmare, only scary enough to make her gasp awake instead of scream awake, and then she could fall back to sleep in peace for the rest of the night. Some nights it was much worse, and Sam would be screaming for thirty minutes before someone could calm her down enough to stop.

Last night Sam had a horrible nightmare, unlike anything she'd ever experienced. There were flashes of blood, broken bones, a red mindscape, screams, and so much suffering that Sam couldn't handle it all. She woke up screaming, but there was no one there to comfort her, so she had to calm herself down. It took her heart about an hour to slow down enough and let her sleep.

No one had bothered waking Sam up in the morning, knowing how much she lacked sleep, and it was spring break anyway. Corey had left for the airport, Stephanie for her shift at the music store, and Aunt Kat for work. Sam for once was dead asleep, snoring lightly in her bed and hugging Stephanie's old teddy bear Sam stole.

Suddenly, there was a pounding at her bed that had Sam stirring. In a groggy voice, she mumbled, "Ngh, leave me alone, Corey..."

But the perpetrator continued vigorously knocking on Sam's door.

Sam winced at the loud noise. "Corey, I said go away!" she shouted in annoyance.

Then, Sam realized the knocking wasn't coming from her room. It was coming from the front door of the house.

She sat up in confusion.

"What the hell?"

Not having time to put on her contacts, Sam grappled at her nightstand for her glasses. She put on the spectacles before getting out of bed and walking to the front door that was constantly being banged on.

"Hold on, I'm getting it!"

The knocking didn't falter.

"I SAID I'M GETTING IT! Goddamn!"

Sam angrily swung the door open, but then stopped and faltered completely at the sight of Auggie Santos.

"Finally!" he exclaimed in exasperation.

Sam's entire face screwed up in bewilderment. "Auggie?"

"I was knocking forever!" Auggie complained. He pushed past Sam and walked into her home. "Hey, you have a nice house!"

Sam shut her front door, and it was way too early for her to comprehend this shit.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah." Auggie stopped, as if he'd just remembered something. He turned around to face Sam with a terrified look. "Did you kill Chrissy Cunningham?"

"What?!" Sam questioned, distressed in confusion.

"It would really suck if you did," Auggie rambled. "The police think it's Eddie Munson, and I'm kind of hoping it's him, because if it's not him, it's you, and I really don't want it to be you."

He walked to her living room, pacing as he freaked out. Sam felt a million years behind. She pushed her glasses back up her nose, expression perpetually etched in disorientation.

"Chrissy Cunningham died?"

"Yeah, in Eddie's trailer last night," Auggie explained offhandedly. Then he paused and turned back to face her. "Wait. You don't know?"

"How would I know that?!" Sam cried incredulously. "You just woke me up!"

From Auggie's back pocket, he pulled out and unfolded an unfamiliar drawing. He handed it to her, entire demeanor now serious. Sam tentatively examined the drawing.

"Yesterday, you left this in the AV room," he explained. "I didn't—I don't know. I just thought it was weird you had a drawing of Eddie Munson's trailer, so I took it back with me to the trailer park, and—and it was a perfect match. You drew everything right, down to the very last detail. The weirdest part—"

Sam's mouth dropped, and she looked like she was going to throw up.

"Eddie and—and Chrissy are in it."

"But you weren't at the trailer park last night," Auggie pointed out. Sam finally looked up from her drawing to stare at Auggie with tears brewing in her eyes. Auggie, noticing how distressed she looked, trailed, "So, I just..."

Sam looked down at the drawing again. She blinked, and a tear dropped onto the paper.

"Oh my God."

"Sam..." Auggie started, gently taking the drawing away from her, "what is this?"

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Sam and Auggie were now in her bedroom. Sam was sitting on her bed, hugging her knees and a pillow in between her stomach and legs; Auggie was sitting in her desk chair.

Sam was trying to explain to him what was going on.

"I don't—I don't remember drawing that... I don't. I—" She bit her fingernail anxiously. "I didn't think it'd get this bad."

"You didn't think what would get this bad?" Auggie asked, tilting his head confusedly.

Sam looked up at Auggie. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils.

"I didn't kill Chrissy."

"Then who did?" he questioned.

"I don't know," she confessed.

Auggie scoffed, wildly confused. "Yet you knew what her last moment alive looked like?"

Sam knew. Right then, right there, in the tense nature of her bedroom, Sam knew what she had to tell Auggie. It was Lucas Sinclair asking Max Mayfield to accept the risk. It was Steve Harrington asking Robin Buckley to translate a Russian code.

"You won't believe me."

Trying to keep things light, Auggie huffed. "I mean, I believed you when you said you didn't kill anyone. How's that for trust?"

But Sam didn't find his half-hearted joke funny.

"I didn't kill Chrissy, and I wasn't at the trailer park last night..." She took a deep breath. "But I did... predict her death."

How was that for trust?

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"And then Stephanie asked if I was okay," Robin rambled as she re-stacked shelves with a broad smile. "And it wasn't a cheap, fake question either. It was like... It was like real, genuine concern."

"Of course she meant it," Steve said half-heartedly, re-stacking movies of his own. "You're a very concerning person."

Steve turned on his heel to move to another aisle, and Robin trailed him desperately.

"My point is that Stephanie was there, and everything was just like... it was perfect."

"But...?" Steve prompted, knowing there was more.

"But I'm having this problem where it's like I should stop talking. I have said everything I need to say, but then I guess I get nervous, and the words, they just—they keep spilling out, and it's like my—my brain is moving faster than my mouth, or—or rather my—my mouth is moving faster than my brain, and it's like I'm digging this hole for myself, and I want to stop digging—I'm trying to stop digging, but I can't, and I'm doing it right now, aren't I?"

Robin pivoted to see Steve had finished shelving all the movies, even hers, and was leaning against an aisle, watching her panic.

"Yeah. You are."

Robin exhaled miserably. She walked backwards until her back ran into an illuminated movie display hung on the wall.

"Oh, I'm hopeless," she whined.

Steve straightened off the aisle. He walked over to Robin and leaned his back against the movie display as well.

"Eh." Steve shrugged. "We both are."

Robin turned her head to look at Steve, examine him. "If only we could just like, combine."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, and he met Robin's scheming gaze.

"Combine?"

"No, think about it," Robin started. "I know exactly what I want, and I've found the girl of my dreams, but I just can't get the courage to ask her out." Steve hummed in agreement, nodding. "Meanwhile, you go on like, a million dates, and you have no idea what you want." Again, Steve hummed in agreement, nodding. "So if we just combined, all our problems would be solved. Because, I mean, alone, let's face it..."

"We totally suck," Steve stated. "I wish I could find the right girl."

Robin nudged him in the shoulder. Only partially joking, she told him, "You know, boys are an option too."

Steve's eyes widened massively. "What?" he croaked.

Robin shrugged. "I'm just saying. Liking both boys and girls. It's called bisexuality."

She pushed off of the wall like what she just said didn't change the trajectory of Steve's life, leaving him behind to let his mind run a million miles an hour.

He felt overwhelmed. He felt like his brain was loose.

Robin gasped, snapping Steve out of his thoughts. "Ooh! I think I found our morning movie."

She ran over to the drama aisle on the other side of the store and pulled a movie off the shelf. "Doctor Zhivago," she pleaded.

Steve groaned, arms crossed as he pushed off of the illuminated display. "Ugh, you know I don't do double VHS."

"But it's about doomed love," Robin cooed.

"Oh, well, that's relatable," Steve snorted.

Robin grinned. "Precisely." She began walking behind the desk, not giving Steve a choice in the movie suggestion. "Also, Julie Christie is b-b-bonkers hot in this. Like seriously the most beautiful creature after Stephanie Renee Hughes that I have seen in my life."

Robin grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, being met with the news.

"We're in the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County. We don't have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning. Police have not released the name—"

"Holy shit," Steve muttered, now standing right next to Robin as they listened to the horrifying news.

"—although we are told they're currently in the process of notifying the family."

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The two of them pedaled fast on their bikes—well, Auggie pedaled fast on his neighbor's stolen bike. He biked after Sam as she sped for a certain destination. The expression on his face couldn't be more distraught.

"I didn't know when you said I won't believe you that I actually wouldn't believe you! I mean, how am I supposed to?!"

Sam grimaced. "I did warn you."

"No!" Auggie protested. "No, because this isn't normal! Do you know that? Huh, Sam? Because you don't seem to know—"

"Shut up, Auggie!" Sam hissed, and her voice cracked. "Yes, I know!"

Auggie huffed as they biked, trying not to totally lose his shit right now. "So... what? You just—have superpowers? You just woke up one day and boom?"

"I wouldn't say they're super," she muttered.

"You supposedly predicted Chrissy Cunningham's death with powers," Auggie cried incredulously. "That's supernatural, Samantha!"

Sam's head whipped back to him with a wide-eyed glare. "Could you be any louder?! God, you're so—"

"I'm what?" he challenged. "Do go on, O' Wise Psychic Friend of Mine."

"I'm not psy—I don't really know what I am, okay?" Sam reworded, taking a deep breath in what looked like an attempt to stop snapping at Auggie. "Shit like this has been happening to me for... a while. Sometimes I'll draw things that are useful, or I'll get these empathic links and feelings, or... well, I don't want to get into it. But—but it's never been like this." Auggie opened his mouth, but "No, I don't know why or how. It's not exactly something I want to dive into about myself."

Auggie sighed, choosing best not to ask about it further. "So where are we even going? Are you secretly bringing me somewhere to murder me?"

"Well, that wasn't the original plan."

"Hey!"

Sam deflated as they turned onto another street. "Look, I don't keep my drawings."

Auggie stared at Sam, trying to figure out the crazy puzzle she was. "What does that even—"

"If you shut up for five seconds, I could tell you!"

Auggie's mouth snapped shut.

"Thank you." Then she inhaled deeply. "I stopped drawing, after—after something happened with my friends a bit ago that just... ended up being the future—well, at least I tried to. But I usually don't even know or remember when I'm drawing. I think I can't even control it."

"Like Chrissy?" Auggie asked gently.

"Like Chrissy." Sam nodded sadly amidst a sigh. "What I can do, what I draw... it all creeped me out. I started having these panic attacks, and as my powers got worse, so did the freak outs. A... friend of mine offered to hold onto them so I wouldn't have to look at them anymore. I wanna—I wanna see if there's anything there that will... explain this."

Auggie took a minute to process all of this information. He was disturbed by it, of course, but it seemed Sam was much more traumatized about her powers than anyone could ever be.

"Alright..." Auggie nodded slowly. "And this friend? Who is it?"

Sam did not seem keen on answering his question.

"Seriously?" he scoffed. "You're not telling me? After everything you've told me, you draw the line at this?!"

"It's just—poor timing for us to be here," she muttered.

"Be where?!"

Wordlessly, Sam parked her bike and hopped off of it. Auggie followed her, and the two teens began walking on a spacious yard leading up to a big house. Even though Auggie lived all the way in the trailer park, the house was recognizable with ease.

"Wait. Wait, oh... Oh, no." Auggie frowned. "Oh my God, Sam, this is—"

"He was the first one to know, okay?" Sam confessed, not looking at Auggie, but instead straight ahead as they walked up to the porch. "He put the pieces together before even I could, and if you so much as comment on the irony of our situation I am going to shove Ted Wheeler's underwear down your throat."

Because they were staring at the house of Mike Wheeler.

It wouldn't have been so ironic if Sam literally didn't feud with him over their friendship just yesterday.

Sam sighed, knocking on the front door as if she didn't ruthlessly threaten Auggie.

"Jesus, woman," Auggie mumbled, eyes wide and trained on the front door.

After a few seconds, the front door opened to reveal a curious Karen Wheeler.

"Who is it—? Oh, Sam!" she cheered. "Hello, sweetie, it's been so long. How are you doing?"

"Just outstanding, Mrs. Wheeler," Sam lied with a forced smile on her face. "And you?"

Karen shrugged. "Well, I'm quite alright. Mike left for California this morning, and I feel a little sick."

"He tends to have that effect on people, doesn't he?" she commented passive aggressively.

Karen's face fell a little.

"I suppose, um... It's always a pleasure to have you here, what do you need? And—uh—who's this?"

"Oh, right!" Sam dramatically hit her forehead with her hand, using terrible acting skills that had Auggie holding back a face. "How could I forget? Sorry, Mrs. Wheeler, this is August Santos."

Sam motioned to him and Auggie waved awkwardly. "Hi."

"He's in the AV Club with me—President, actually," Sam explained, electing not to add the fact they were the only two people in the club.

"You're still doing that, Sam?" Karen cooed. "Oh, that's adorable! It's a pleasure to meet you, August."

"You too, ma'am," Auggie squeaked awkwardly.

Sam was not impressed with his horrible social skills.

"Yes, such a pleasure." She pat his shoulder aggressively, a hint he should just stop trying. "Um, we actually came here because—well..." She searched for a lie, and her face suddenly brightened as she thought of one so quickly. "Do you remember how Mike used to be President of the middle school's AV Club?"

Karen smiled. "Of course, yes."

"Right!" Sam cheered. "So, well, I wanted to see if he still had his Heathkit Ham Shack in the basement. It's this really nice radio Mr. Clarke bought for us. You remember Mr. Clarke, right?"

Sam's ramblings were clearly confusing Karen, and Auggie too, but that seemed to be her plan.

(Karen had no clue the Heathkit Ham Shack was blown up, and Sam would be using this to her advantage.)

"I-I do," Karen stammered.

"Yeah, Mike promised me he'd give it to me once I joined AV again, but you know Mike." Sam laughed uncomfortably. "Forgetting people—" Auggie nudged her, "I mean things. Forgetting things."

She took deep breath, snapping back into it.

"So we just thought we'd stop by and see if it's here at all. After the game yesterday, me and August decided we needed a new radio. Isn't that right, August?"

"Uh." Auggie coughed, hating to lie. "Yes?"

From unseen inside the house, Auggie heard an older male voice chide at Sam. "Are you talking about that explicit commentating you did, Samantha? You better start watching your language."

"Ted!" Karen whipped her head toward the La-Z-Boy scoldingly.

Sam leaned her head into the house. "No one was talking to you, Ted!" She leaned back out to smile faux-enthusiastically at Mrs. Wheeler. "What a ray of sunshine."

"I'm sorry about him, honey. I'm sure your commentating was great," Karen complimented. Surprising Auggie, she stepped back and motioned for the pair to come inside. "You two can come right in! Take all the time you need. We have leftovers from breakfast if either of you are hungry!"

This time, Sam's smile was real and genuinely relieved.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wheeler. Really. It means a lot."

Auggie's eyes darted around, looking for the kitchen. "Wait, what kind of leftovers?"

Sam glared at him discreetly. "He's kidding," she declared, before grabbing his forearm and talking fast. "We'll just be in the basement, sorry, bye! Hi, Holly!"

He heard a little girl call back as Sam yanked Auggie and sped-walked him down into Mike Wheeler's basement.

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Sam and Auggie had been down in Mike's basement for about an hour now. It was so messy, so disgusting, that Sam couldn't help but clean it a little while they thoroughly searched through it—don't blame her, the messiness was making it difficult to find anything.

Rummaging through Mike's desk, Auggie broke the hour-long silence. "Is there anything specific we're looking for, or...?"

Sam turned the old D&D table inside and out, though she doubted Mike would care, because it hadn't been used since October.

"Hopefully more drawings," she commented idly. "If we can't find any... I don't know. Maybe I—I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

Auggie finally looked up from the desk to stare at her.

"What does that mean?"

Visions of tunnels and flashes of Hopper's cabin plagued Sam's memory.

"I don't really want to think about it," she said, shuddering.

Sam moved over to the sofa, lifting up blankets and pillows. Auggie moved over to the armchairs, where he lifted up a half-eaten, stale bag of cheese puffs.

"Were all of your little rager representatives like this?" Auggie gagged, holding up the bag with two fingers. "How did you handle it? I mean, it stinks in here."

"Party members," Sam corrected, a little bit snappy as she snatched the cheese puff bag from Auggie and threw it in the trash.

Auggie raised his hands in half-hearted defense before he continued searching. Sam did the same, praying to God she would find something in reward for their sacrifice of being down her for so long.

Sam's glasses had slid a little down her nose, so she pushed them back up and realized how much she'd taken her contacts for granted. The second her vision got a little clearer, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye.

Sam crouched down and looked under the sofa, excitedly pulling out a thick blue binder.

"Shit!" she cheered.

"What?" Auggie worried. He turned around and spotted what Sam was holding. "Damn, is that really all your drawings?"

"Well, no." Sam shrugged. "I've talked about Will before, right? The one who moved to California? He draws too. And Mike's been keeping our drawings ever since we were kids."

Auggie eyed Sam suspiciously, apparently not believing that Sam had once had good friends.

She sighed and restrained an eye roll. "My friends aren't actually bad people, you know? Mike's not. We've all just... been through stuff. I don't blame us for changing." Then she slammed the binder down on the old D&D table, the solemn look wiped off her face. "Now, can we focus, please?"

Auggie shrugged defensively for himself. He sat down in one of the wooden chairs that were much too small to accommodate him at his big age.

"No, sure, by all means," he commented.

Sam sat in the chair next to him, and it was much easier for her to fit than it was for Auggie.

"Okay, then." Sam took in a big breath. "Let's do this."

Sam opened the binder, and they began looking.

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A part of Sam wished they hadn't decided to go searching through the binder of art. All it brought was an unimaginable pain that she'd been feeling for a while, but looking through the drawings only increased that hurt.

She saw Will's drawing of Sam, Mike, and Will as their D&D roles—Druid, Paladin, and Cleric. She saw Sam's stick-figure drawing she made when she was nine of Sam, Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Will all saving a castle together. She saw Will's drawing of a teddy bear, a stuffed animal that Mike used to sleep with before his father forced him to stop. She saw Sam's drawing she'd made, making fun of Mike as he threw up at their third grade Nativity Play. She saw a drawing Sam and Will had made together—a surprise for Mike's seventh birthday—of the three of them playing in Mike's basement forever, happily growing old.

It was a stupid fucking idea. Now her throat was tight, and she hadn't even found a drawing that would help them with the whole Chrissy situation.

"Damn it," Sam rasped, slamming the binder shut. It grew later outside the longer they lingered.

"Well, that was," Auggie side-eyed her, "completely unhelpful and heart-breakingly sad."

Sam shot him a look.

"Yeah, sorry." He deflated, nodding in self-awareness.

Sam's eyes fell back down to the closed binder, face down from the way Sam had closed it shut. Upon further inspection, her head tilted curiously.

"Wait, do you see that?"

Auggie looked back at the binder too. He admittedly did not see what Sam was looking at.

"Er—no."

"No, look," Sam pointed at the back of the binder. "It's... this isn't actually the back."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look!" she snapped, pointing at the back of the binder. "Underneath the binding cover. That's not the back, that's black construction paper."

Auggie startled, taken aback.

"Holy crap. It is."

Sam and Auggie shared eye contact, a silent conversation passing between them.

Sam immediately took the binder in her hands again, prying her fingers in between the back of the binder and the plastic CVC on top of it. Auggie watched in awe, because as her fingers wriggled, she started shifting out the black construction paper that had been stuffed in between.

But that wasn't all.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sam whispered.

Laid out on the table were four sheets of paper—the first, of course, was the black construction paper Mike had used to cover up the other three.

The other three were drawings.

Very unsettling drawings.

The first one was a nightly scene of a long winding road that both of them recognized, because it was located at the outskirts of Hawkins. It was the street Auggie's bus took every day to get him from the trailer park to school. A little further back on the road, was an unruly car crash engulfed in flames.

The second one was also a nightly scene, but this one wasn't near a road. Instead it was Lover's Lake—a famous lake in Hawkins given its name due to its distinct heart shape. There was an abandoned, cheap boat flipped over in the middle of it.

The third one was... harder to figure out. It looked like it was set in some sort of attic. A very, very old attic. The only source of light was a faint, blue lantern set on the floor. All of the wood seemed aged, and Sam hadn't even known it was possible for her to display this much detail in a simple drawing.

"Pull out... pull out the fourth drawing," she croaked.

She really did think she was going to be sick. The only thing that stopped her was—

You're not. Sam, you're not. You're letting yourself get too far into your head, that's all. But stop that. You don't actually need to throw up, you just want to make yourself.

With shaking hands, Auggie fumbled for his back pocket. He pulled out the drawing of his trailer park, unfolded it before hesitantly putting it down on the table. Four drawings, four scenes.

"What—" Auggie had to clear his throat. "What the fuck does this mean?"

Sam gulped, trying not to cry. "I don't know."

"You drew these?"

Sam didn't want to do it, but something compelled her hand to reach forward. She flipped one of the drawings over.

Sam H.

She flipped a second drawing over.

Sam H.

She flipped the third drawing over.

Sam H.

And the fourth.

Sam H.

"Holy..." Auggie commented, his voice strained.

Sam breathing in sharply through her nose, eyes unable to look away from her drawings. Hers. It felt like the vines, like finding out there were moments of her life missing she could never get back.

"And you really don't remember doing this?" Auggie asked.

Sam forced herself to move, to shake her head, although stiffly. "Not at all," she croaked.

Auggie nodded, trying to be okay with all of this.

"I'm gonna be honest, I didn't believe you," Auggie confessed. "But, well..."

"Well," Sam echoed, because it felt accurate enough.

Together they stared, stared, stared.

"Hey, Sam?" Auggie questioned weakly.

Finally, finally, Sam's eyes peeled off of her scribbled handwriting. She looked at Auggie.

"Yeah?"

"If the trailer drawing was... was Chrissy before she, you know," Auggie started, "then are these—?"

"I don't know." Sam shook her head, face screwing up.

Auggie fell silent again, looking at the papers. He flipped them over with his own hands.

They stared, stared, stared.

Sam stared, stared, stared. She stared until an idea struck her.

"But I might be able to figure out how."

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"Have you done this before?"

Auggie was standing near the couch and armchairs, watching Sam stand behind the D&D table from afar. She was, as she had told him, trying to figure out the meaning behind her drawings. She was trying to figure out where to go next.

"Um." Sam glanced up from where she sprawled out the four drawings as if they were part of a ritual. "Once. I accidentally drew a map of tunnels underneath the entirety of Hawkins which we used to save Hopper who was being strangulated and dying. But—again—that was an accident. And I had help from Will. Who was being possessed by an interdimensional monster... which is a long story we don't have time for."

Auggie nodded, because that was fair, though vaguely disturbing.

"Then after that," Sam continued, "I went into Billy Hargrove's possessed mind, but I had help from El—another girl with superpowers—I called her Jane when I talked about her to you, but that was just a cover-up. Well, technically it's not a cover-up, it is her legal name. But that's not how we know her. I just—"

"Sam."

"Right. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. So technically, I've never done this alone. Or by my own will. But. It's what we have to work with."

"This is giving major Carrie vibes," Auggie couldn't help himself from pointing out.

Sam shrugged. "Not really, but to each their own."

She took a deep breath, and she closed her eyes.

"Do I just... watch, or—?"

"You can be quiet," Sam offered, but it wasn't really a suggestion.

Auggie sat down on the couch, nodding.

"Right. Sorry. I'll shut up. Do your thing, Carrie."

She opened up one eye to glare at him, because that was possible the worst nickname of all time he could've settled on, for Sam of all people, but she ultimately decided on not saying anything.

Sam's eyes closed, and she forced herself to relax. She took a deep breath in and blew a deep breath out. She let vague memories of instruction from El infiltrate her mind, and she placed her hands on the D&D table below.

What are you afraid is going to happen if you let it in?

Sam focused on that feeling in her chest. She inhaled deeply again. The rushing sensation in her body grew.

Vaguely, she heard a sharp gasp, but it was a distant sound that was heard far away.

Sam could feel the electricity whizzing in her veins.

She slapped her hand down on the table.

Her eyes opened with a gasp. When she looked down, her hand was planted on the drawing of the winding road.

"Here," Sam breathed. "We—we need to go here."

Her head tilted up, only to find that Auggie had passed out on the floor in fear.

"Shit," she muttered.

Sam grabbed all four drawings in a hurried manner before she rushed over to Auggie's limp body. She began shaking him rapidly, her art crinkling in the process.

"Auggie. Auggie Santos. August!" Sam hissed. "You gotta get up. August, get up! Get your ass UP!"

Auggie gasped awake, shooting forward so that he was sitting up. His hands grasped around wildly, trying to get a look of his surroundings.

His eyes fell on Sam.

Auggie's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he passed out in fear. Again.

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam was sure she'd never rode her bike faster—not when her and Lucas were trying to reunite with their friends, not when the government was chasing the party, not when she was late to school that one day because she overslept. Not ever.

Something was wrong, wrong, wrong. Sam hadn't felt that cold restriction in her chest in months, and now it was back at full force.

She'd woken up Auggie and forced him to stay awake as quickly as it could be possible. They pedaled, and they pedaled ,and Sam didn't even know where she was going, but she was following her gut, knowing it would lead her to the right place.

Fred...

The deep, guttural voice reverberated in her ears. In her chest.

She biked faster.

Next to her, Sam could hear Auggie heaving desperately as he pedaled the distance with her. Mike's house was miles from the highway they were heading towards. They'd been biking for so long that it was officially night.

I want you to join me...

She biked faster.

And then—

They saw it.

There was a silhouette in the distance, growing nearer the more they pedaled. It appeared to be floating in the air, and it was unlike anything Sam had ever seen before.

Auggie screamed bloody murder. "WHAT THE HELL?"

Sam biked impossibly faster until she opted on just jumping off her bike and running towards the scene, Auggie following in suit. The night breeze blew her hair back.

The floating figure was Fred.

"FRED!" Sam yelled, desperate to prevent him from dying. "FRED, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Fred rose, higher in the sky.

"IS THAT FRED BENSON?" Auggie screamed wildly, trying not to faint a third time.

Sam ignored him. She cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice: "FRED! FRED, COME ON! WAKE UP!"

Fred rose, higher in the sky. His eyes were rolled behind his head.

"FRED, DUDE, THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" Auggie joined in. "WAKE UP, MAN!"

And Sam was aware she hadn't told Auggie about her lightning-like powers, specifically. He knew about the sort-of psychic abilities that only applied to drawings, and he knew about her being an Empath. She left out the electric attributes, because she didn't see how that would ever be relevant—she only needed to use them in situations pertaining to the Upside Down. Sam and Auggie were just running a murder investigation. She didn't want to unleash these abilities.

But.

Sam shot out voltages of electricity, reaching for Fred's figure and trying to pull him away. It wasn't enough to kill or harm him—she just needed a force that would get him down.

But Fred wasn't budging.

"FRED!" Sam called, electric voice buzzing.

Auggie was screeching.

Then Sam saw why Auggie was screeching.

Her electric harbinging was of no use. The icy blue zaps dissipated for Sam to see what was going on with Fred.

His limbs were snapping.

Sam gasped in sharply, taking a terrified step back.

His jaw dislocated.

Tears filled her eyes, and her hand clapped over her mouth.

His entire body was being disjointed, bending in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Sam choked out a sob. It was all so traumatizing, but she couldn't look away.

His eyes peeled back into his head, blood running down the empty sockets.

The tears ran down Sam's face. She thought of a story she once told—of a boy who killed his family by breaking all their bones and cutting out their eyes.

No, Sam, it's not funny though. What if it's all true?

Fred's body fell twenty feet from the air onto the concrete pavement.

Fred was dead.

Sam couldn't save him.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Published: January 18, 2024
Re-published: October 30, 2025

BAILEY YAPS...

This chapter was just Sam and Auggie being a chaotic duo but I'm by no means mad about. It's so funny to me how Sam is only murderously violent to him, a guy who's older than her. And he, a guy who's older than her, is absolutely terrified that her threats are real. The dynamic is dynamicing.

Fun fact! Sam sleeps with Steph's stuffed animal because when she used to have nightmares she would go into's Steph's room and hold her. Now, because of confidentially, Sam can't. So this is the only kind of hug she could give Steph

Shoutout to Mike trying to keep Sam less tormented even from California by hiding her drawings. And he didn't even tell anyone about them. Because he knows how much Sam hates her powers, even if he was the one who insisted most that she utilized them. Mama I miss my Sam and Mike

And glasses Sam has returned!! We haven't seen her since Season 1!! Proud to say she will be with us yay. Go girl