CHAPTER FORTY.
4x04: Dear Billy

Sam, Robin, and Nancy were taking turns, explaining to Victor what was happening right now in Hawkins. They were hoping to convince Victor they really did believe him, and they really did believe the demon (Vecna) was back.

"When he attacks, our friend described it as a trance," Sam explained, trying to stop her voice from wavering at the thought of Max. "Like a waking nightmare. That's why we think he's—coming for her next."

Victor sat on his chair, listening to the girls as they recounted the recent events to him. His elbows were on his thighs, and he rubbed his hands together, processing.

"Does any of this—anything we've told you—sound like what happened to your family?" Sam asked.

Victor breathed shakily, in a manner much like how Sam behaved when she was disturbed. Robin and Nancy looked to Sam impatiently, like they had no hope that the mentally deranged man would talk.

"Victor," Nancy said firmly. "I know this is hard—"

"You don't know anything!" Victor snapped, the frustrated yell sounding deep from his gut. His voice echoed around the halls and rang in Sam's ears. She sucked in a sharp breath, but she eyed him so sadly.

Sam nodded, even if he couldn't see it. "You're right," she agreed. "We don't know. That's why we're here. To learn. To understand."

Victor's head craned towards them again, slowly calming down.

"We need to know how you survived that night," Robin leaned forward to say.

Victor laughed incredulously, turning fully and standing from his chair. "Survived? Is that what you call this?"

A man forever bound to a cell. A man, doomed to grow old and die guilty of a crime he didn't commit. A man without eyes, never to see again because they were carved out of him.

"Did," Victor walked forward slowly, "I... survive?"

He crossed his arms at them, and Robin and Nancy leaned away from the cell. Victor shot closer, but Sam stayed stationary.

"No, I assure you," Victor growled. "I am still very much in hell."

And then the story began:

"I had been back from the war some fourteen years."

A happy family in the '50s. A husband, a wife, a daughter, a son.

"Her great-uncle had died, leaving us a small fortune."

A grand house painted in blue, larger than life itself. A stained-glass window of a rose on the door.

"Enough to by a new home, a new life."

It was unfurnished but lovely. An impressed family soaked in the beauty of it all.

"It was... a magnificent home. Alice said," Victor grinned fondly, "it looked like it was from a fairytale."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, and she stepped even closer. "Alice... Was this your daughter?"

The smile on Victor's face was rare but genuine. "Mmm," he hummed. "Yeah." Victor inhaled, smile faltering. "But Henry... my boy, he... he was a sensitive child.... and I could see he felt something was wrong."

A sensitive twelve-year-old boy coloring. Lights flickering. A film that had been seen before.

"We had one month of peace in that house. And then it began."

A bright blonde girl playing. A smile faltering at the sight of a dead bunny.

"Dead animals—mutilated, tortured—began to appear near our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs."

A husband outside his porch at night, gun in hand to protect the family.

"The police chief blamed the attacks on a wildcat. This," Victor let out a disbelieving laugh, "this was no wildcat... This was an evil. An evil neither animal nor human." He walked slowly towards the girls, talking lowly. "This was a spawn of Satan. A demon. And it was even closer than I realized."

A wife trying to start a bath for herself. A forced vision of black widows crawling out the drain. A terrified shriek.

"My family began to have encounters conjured by this demon. Nightmares. Waking, living nightmares."

A bathtub that had never been crawling with spiders. Instead, it was water all along.

"This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor, innocent Alice."

A fifteen-year-old blonde screaming awake from constant nightmares. A fifteen-year-old blonde stared back at Victor in the present, frowning.

"It wasn't long before I began to have encounters of my own."

A husband hearing a baby crying. A cradle in place of the wood underneath the fireplace, set alight by flames, and the baby wailed louder.

"I suppose all evil must have a home."

A husband discovering an attic in his house.

"And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I... I could sense this demon, always close."

A husband inspecting the attic with a constant cold constricting his chest.

"I became convinced it was hiding, nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home. It had cursed our town. It had cursed our home," Victor faltered. "It had cursed us."

A family of four, eating dinner at the dining table.

A stereo turned on upon its own will.

A series of lights flickering overhead. Electricity being manipulated all around.

A wife shooting up into the air with a terrified scream.

"It took Virginia first." Victor sat down on his bland bed, voice broken.

A cracking of bones. Eyes being sucked out of sockets.

"I tried to get the children out, to save them," he pleaded.

A man, no longer a husband, trying to pry open the front door.

A door being busted open as the father walked into another waking nightmare.

A house on fire. A house mutilated from war.

A fellow soldier over a corpse. A fellow soldier shouting at the father.

"But I was back to France, back in the war," Victor rasped, tapping at his temple with unstable fingers. "It was a memory. I had thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered its shelling."

A father walking through the war scene. Indistinct shouting all around. The sound of a baby wailing again.

"I was wrong," Victor choked, hands flying up to grip the sides of his hair.

A father getting closer to the screaming baby. The same vision of a cradle rocking, set on fire and baby aflame.

Victor's hands closed over his ears, and he rocked back and forth on the bed in his cell. He let out strained murmurs and pants. "This demon, it was taunting me," he mourned. "And I was sure it would take me, just as he'd taken my Virginia."

A girl screaming, but pain going unnoticed.

"But then," Victor breathed hopefully, "I heard... another voice."

A new sound. A saving sound.

"At first, I believed it was an angel." His hands left his ears, and a ghost of a smile played at his mouth. He reached out towards nothing. "And I... I followed her, only to find myself," the hope in his tone dropped, "in a nightmare far worse."

A man, no longer a father, realizing it was all a waking nightmare. Two kids lying unresponsive on the wooden floor while he'd been forced to be distracted.

"While I was away, the demon took my children."

A clock ticking. A man trying to shake his kids awake.

"Alice and Henry slipped into comas shortly after that. A week later, they died."

A man, no longer a man, locked behind the bars of Pennhurst. Razor blades snuck into the cell.

"I tried to join them," he cried, body shaking. "I tried."

A convict stabbing his eyes with razor blades.

Victor's hands curled into fists, and he mimicked the action of stabbing at his eyes as the whimpers turned into unstable cries.

"Hatch stopped the bleeding," Victor sobbed. "He wouldn't let me join them."

He curled up on his bed, wailing.

Sam wiped a lone tear that had fallen down her face, stepping forward. "The angel you followed," she sniffled, "who was she?"

Victor began to hum, a broken melody. He hugged his pillow, rocking back and forth. He cried and he hummed. He cried and he hummed. He cried and he hummed.

"Victor?" Nancy asked, as Sam's mind ran a mile per minute.

He cried and he hummed.

"Victor!"

He cried and he hummed.

The door to the criminal ward shot open, startling the three girls. Sam whipped her head over in fear to find Dr. Hatch and two guards marching past the iron gate and now towards them.

"Is he everything you hoped he would be?" Dr. Hatch snapped, amidst the crying and humming. "I just had a very interesting conversation with Professor Brantley."

The beating of Sam's heart sped up. He knew, he knew, he knew, was all she could think. Victor was humming, and Dr. Hatch knew.

"Perhaps we should discuss in my office," Dr. Hatch stopped his trek before them, talking in a clipped tone, "while we wait for the police."

Victor was humming, and Dr. Hatch knew.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Sam, Nancy, and Robin were being escorted to Dr. Hatch's office by the man himself and two guards. They were going to be arrested, and Max was running out of time.

"You're not listening," Nancy growled. "Our friend is in danger!"

They marched through the listening room with urgency, and Sam's eyes darted all around.

"Do you really expect me to believe anything you have to say at this point?" Dr. Hatch snapped.

"It's the truth!" Robin pleaded.

"You are free to tell your sob story to the police."

Nancy and Robin trailed desperately after Dr. Hatch, trying to get him to believe their illogical sense. Sam faltered though, eyes trained on where a patient had headphones on, listening to a song coming from a record player.

There was:

"We found that music has a particularly calming effect on the broken mind. The right song—particularly one which holds some personal meaning—can prove a salient stimulus."

And there was:

"The angel you followed," she sniffled, "who was she?"

Victor began to hum, a broken melody.

And there alarmingly was:

          Stars shining bright above you...

"Stop the car!" Sam began yelling desperately, tears in her eyes. "Please, Dad! DAD! STOP THE CAR!"

"Aw, Sammy," Anthony cooed. He was eerily calm. "What's the matter, kiddo? Are you feeling sick?"

"DAD, PLEASE! STOP THE CAR!" Sam was crying now, and she didn't know why, and she didn't know where she was.

        Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you..."

"I love this song." Diane grinned at Anthony, as if their daughter wasn't screaming and crying in the background. "Remember when we danced to it back at—?"

"At Michael Zimmerman's party?" Anthony finished, barking out a laugh. "God, I was horrible at dancing."

        Birds singing in the sycamore trees...

"You were," Diane chuckled, very fond.

Sam screamed, cried, begged for someone to listen to her. "STOP! PLEASE STOP THE CAR! DAD!"

        Dream a little dream of me—

Out of nowhere, headlights sped straight for them. In the next second, it slammed right into the car and sent the Hughes family flying off the road. Sam and Stephanie yelled, bodies thrashing around like ragdolls.

And possibly most terrifying there was:

Goosebumps grew on her arms and neck, and a shiver crawled up her spine. The blowing wind got louder, and she could almost make out voices—messy whispers that tumbled over one other.

They didn't make any sense, and they were all saying different things at once.

Sam's stomach dropped as it would on a rollercoaster, and she looked at Will, who was already watching her. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. And then, she could hear the whispers clearly.

        Stars shining bright above you...

Blood rolled down her nose again, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were dazed and disturbed on Will.

        Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you..."

Will sucked in a sharp breath, and then it all stopped at once. There were flashes of a car wreck and two bodies before Sam snapped out of it.

A guard snapped her out of it, grasping her bicep harshly. "Move along," he hissed.

"Don't touch me!" Sam protested, flinching out of his grip but continuing to walk forward.

Dr. Hatch, Nancy, and Robin were already speeding out of the listening room by the time Sam focused in on everything around her. She jogged quickly, trying to catch up with a pissed-off Nancy and a panicked Robin.

Sam nudged herself in between the two girls, body language telling them she needed to confess something, lowly for only them to hear.

"Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house," Sam whispered, "but he made a specific mention of music. He said music was playing."

Dream a little dream of me...

"And then, when we asked him about the angel, he started to hum."

Hmm, hm-hm-hm hmmm hm hmm...

To the tune of Victor's humming, Sam sang, "Say night-night and kiss me, hold me tight and tell me—"

"'Dream a Little Dream of Me'!" Nancy realized with a shocked breath.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "Ella Fitzgerald."

Robin cursed, worked together, "The voice of an angel!"

"Yeah," Sam muttered again. She pointed to the bald man a few feet away. "Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can't. So maybe that's the key. A lifeline."

"A lifeline back to reality," Nancy thought, eyes wide on Sam.

Sam nodded rapidly, hopefully. "It's worth a shot." She inhaled, exhaled. "It's something my dad always used to say. 'Music is the window to the soul.'"

"Isn't it 'the eyes are the windows to the soul'?" Nancy corrected, never able to restrain herself from being smarter than everyone else.

"Go ahead, Nancy," Sam snarked. "Attack the words of a dead mean. You two can have a wonderful, undead debate."

Nancy swallowed. "Right. Sorry."

She started looking behind herself, but Robin's head was craned down on Sam. "Jesus, Goldie, you're incredible," she exhaled.

Sam tried to shrug the praise off. "Well," she smirked discreetly at Robin, "I don't have to be Anne to be a prodigy genius."

"You can say that again," she huffed.

Nancy looked away from the two guards behind her. Leaning closer to whisper, she said, "I think we can beat them."

Sam and Robin shared a look. They glanced behind them, where the guards glared.

"What?"

"To the car," Nancy clarified.

"Okay, I'm warning you right now, I have terrible coordination," Robin panicked. "Like, it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies."

"Yeah, I do AV Club for a reason," Sam added. "I'm a loser."

Nancy side-eyed them. "Just—follow my lead."

And then Nancy was sprinting away before either could protest.

"No, my God!" Robin groaned, being forced to do nothing but run with her.

"SHIT!" Sam cursed, taking off her heels and doing the same.

"Hey!" a guard shouted. "Get back here!"

The three girls ignored him, although they knew both guards were chasing after them right now. It was harder for Sam to run, because the tweed skirt Nancy put her in wasn't loose or stretchy, so she couldn't move her legs as much. She was at least glad she'd elected on taking her shoes off—Nancy's had slipped off, and Robin's went flying, hitting a poor patient in the head.

"Cinderella, you dropped your shoe!" the patient called to Robin, the same one who had stared at Sam a few hours earlier.

"Stop right there!" a guard yelled.

Sam, Robin, and Nancy didn't stop. They continued running, jumping down an entire level raised by a stone wall.

Another inmate cackled madly as the three girls evaded the guards. Sam continued cursing as they ran, ran, ran, her tweed skirt bunching up a little as they did.

Sam could feel it in her chest—they needed to keep running as fast as they could. She urged to contact her friends through her walkie, because there was a crawling feeling that something was wrong.

That they were running out of time.

Sam pushed past an oblivious guard to keep running, socks slipping on brick ground as they made it out the gardens. Robin let out a yell as she almost fell, and Nancy was the only one who was running with ease.

The guards didn't stop chasing them, but they were old with low stamina. Sam, Robin, and Nancy picked up the pace, hearing their shouts for them to stop.

Sam cursed gratefully when she saw Nancy's car come into view.

Nancy reached it first, fumbling her keys out of her purse and unlocking the vehicle as quickly as she could. All three girls threw themselves in, Sam falling into the back in a very ungraceful manner. Nancy slammed the button to lock the car right before one of the guards was pounding on her window.

"Get out of there!" he shouted.

"Go, go, go, go, go!" Sam and Robin yelled.

Nancy shoved her keys into the ignition and started the car. Luckily, there wasn't a flayed Billy to remove her ignition cable anymore, because they needed to get out of here fast.

The tires of Nancy's car SCREECHED while she whipped the car into drive and hit the gas as hard as she could. Her car went speeding out of the parking lot, and the guards were left in the dust.

Sam whipped behind to look out the back window and watch one of the guards topple over. She shared bewildered eyes with Robin.

"Holy shit!" Robin cursed. "Holy shit! Holy SHIT!"

"You really are a weird runner!" Nancy laughed, glancing at Robin.

From next to Sam, her walkie whined, and she snapped her gaze over with startled eyes.

"SAM, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? THIS IS A CODE RED. I REPEAT, A CODE RED!"

Dustin's voice was screaming desperately from the speaker. Sam grabbed her walkie as quickly as she could, extending the antenna and answering his panicked callings.

"Dustin, it's Sam! We copy."

"HOLY SHIT! Finally!" Dustin shouted. "PLEASE, please tell me you guys have this figured out!"

Sam panted from all the running, and she shared worried eye contact with Nancy and Robin. Dustin didn't sound like he wanted to save Max in the future.

He sounded like he needed to save Max now.

"Okay, I'm gonna explain it really fast and really briefly, 'cause it's kind of confusing without context, but we don't have time for that right now," Sam rambled. "We think that Max's favorite song will save her and act as her lifeline to reality in the trances Vecna puts her in. We can't stop them, but we can pull her out of them."

"H-her favorite song?" Dustin panicked. "What's her favorite song?!"

"You don't know her favorite song?" Sam scolded. "We haven't talked in months, and I know her favorite song!"

"OKAY, WELL, YOU MIGHT WANT TO TELL ME INSTEAD OF LECTURING ME IF YOU DON'T WANT HER TO DIE!"

"It's Kate Bush!" Sam blurted, heart speeding up as Dustin gave her the thought of Max dying. "'Running Up That Hill' by Kate Bush! Max and I should have like, a million mixtapes combined over with you guys, it has to be somewhere in there!"

"Okay, okay, thank you! SHIT—thank you! I need to go, I-I need to find the song!"

Sam started tearing up at the desperation in Dustin's voice.

"Just—save her, Dustin, alright? Please just—" Sam got cut off by her own cry, "just save her."

"I'm gonna save her, Specks. We're gonna save her."

Specks.

"Meet us back at Mike's basement!"

And then Dustin shut his Walkie off.

You cannot hide from me, Maxine...

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Max Mayfield's last day on earth was supposed to be Monday, March 24.

It wasn't.

Max Mayfield's last day on earth was supposed to be Monday, March 24, but she didn't die. She didn't die, because Sam Hughes figured out the secret to surviving a trance of Vecna's. She didn't die, because Sam Hughes was the only person to know Max's favorite song.

She didn't die because of Sam.

Sam, who had given Max one of her beloved mixtapes of her own, because she knew Max was struggling with the death of her step-brother back when they were packing up the Byers household. She never told Max that was the reason why, but she didn't have to.

Max knew Sam. She knew.

"Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)" was Max's favorite song of all of them in the mixtape—so much so that she created her own mixtape with that same song on loop for forty-six minutes.

She couldn't ask Sam to make it, because by that point, they weren't on speaking terms anymore. But somehow, someway, Sam still knew Max's favorite song without ever having to ask about it.

Sam knew Max. She knew.

Max almost died without mending her friendship with Sam.

When Nancy's car quickly parked against the curb of her front lawn, Sam threw herself out the car before it even officially stopped. Max brightened up from the porch—she'd been waiting for Sam to come back since they made it from the graveyard.

Upon seeing that Max was here and alive (even if terribly traumatized), Sam burst out into tears all the way from the car. She walked forward.

Max stopped her Walkman from playing Kate Bush, and she didn't walk like Sam. She ran.

Max Mayfield pummeled Sam Hughes in a hug.

"Max," Sam cried breathlessly.

She returned the hug, although her hands patted Max's back in a confused manner.

"What—what's this for?"

"I'm sorry." Max held Sam tighter, shaking her head as she cried for the nth time this day. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, and—and running away, and even then, you never stopped trying, and you're my best friend, and I never should have let myself lose someone like you."

Sam gripped Max tighter, as if she was physically trying to get through to her.

"You didn't lose me. Max, you'll never lose me."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Published: January 20, 2024
Re-published: October 30, 2025

BAILEY YAPS...

I deadass feel so bad for Victor Creel like yeah dude I would try killing myself too if that shit happened to me

And Dustin called Sam Specks again who cheered. Curlyspecks enthusiasts we are so back.

Samax nation we are also so back

Me personally I think Max's favorite memories with Sam would consist of: meeting Sam for the first time and all she could talk about was time zones, Sam playing the guitar for her in their first sleepover, when Max was driving Billy's car and she and Sam had the talk about both of them being cool, getting ready for the Snow Ball together, their sleepovers over the summer, El joining their sleepovers before it all went wrong, Sam giving Max the mixtape that made her discover "Running Up That Hill." But feel free to add any other fan favorites idk

Fun fact. Today I gave a speech in my public speaking class about "The Downfall of Netflix" and one of my talking points was Stranger Things taking 11 years to release the damn show