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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 that 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.

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

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, frustrated yell sounding deep from his gut. Victor's 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 out incredulously, turning towards them and standing in 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 and Sam put her arms protectively in front of them.

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

And then the story began:

"I had been back from the war some 14 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 closer again. The name sounded familiar. "Alice... Was this your daughter?"

The smile on Victor's face was rare but genuine. "Mmm," he hummed. "Yeah." Victor breathed in, 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's 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." Victor 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 out, 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. He mourned, "This demon, it was taunting me. 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," sobbed Victor. "He wouldn't let me join them." He curled up on his bed, wailing.

Sam wiped a lone tear that fell 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. Victor 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 over in fear to find Dr. Hatch and two guards were 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.

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ShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShitShit—

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 at Dr. Hatch. "Our friend is in danger."

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

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

"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 belive their unlogical sense. Sam faltered, though, eyes trailed on where a patient had headphones on, listening to a song coming from a record player.

"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."

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

Victor began to hum, a broken melody.

Her parents weren't supposed to be here. This car didn't exist anymore. Why was Sam fourteen? She hadn't seen her parents since...

Wait, when did Sam last see her parents?

What was going on?

Stars shining bright above you...

"STOP THE CAR!" Sam began yelling desperately, tears in her eyes. "PLEASE, DAD, STOP THE CAR!"

"Aw, Sammy," Anthony cooed, as if nothing was wrong. 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 crying in the background. "Remember when we danced to it back at—?"

"At Tim Johnson's party?" Anthony finished for his wife, barking at a laugh. "God, I was horrible at dancing."

Birds singing in the sycamore trees...

"You were," Diane laughed back, but she seemed very fond.

Sam began screaming, crying, begging 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 straight into the car and sent the Hughes family flying off the road. 

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, and her breaths came shallow. 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 horrible visions got placed inside her head.

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

Will's lips itched into a smile, the same views rolling through his mind.

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 very 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...

Sam continued, "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," muttered Sam, 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.

Nodding rapidly, Sam hopefully added, "It's worth a shot." She breathed in and out. "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.

Sarcastically, Sam hissed, "Go ahead, Nancy. 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. She exhaled, "Jesus, Goldie, you're incredible."

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 him. 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.

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

"Yeah, I do AV Club for a reason," added Sam factually. "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.

The guard shouted, "Hey! 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. At least, she was glad she'd elected on taking her shoes off, because Nancy's had slipped off and Robin's went flying — hitting a poor patient in the head.

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

"Stop right there!" yelled a guard.

Sam, Robin, and Nancy did not 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 madly as they ran and ran and 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 walking, 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 quick 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 knocking 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 her to look out the back window and see one of the guards toppling over. She shared bewildered eyes with Robin.

"Holy shit!" the brunette cursed. "Holy shit! Holy shit!"

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

From next to her, Sam's Walkie whined, and her head whipped over to it 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 quick as she could, extending the antenna and answering his panicked callings.

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

"Holy shit. Finally!" shouted Dustin. "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?!"

Sam scolded, "You don't know her favorite song? 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 at Dustin gave her the thought of Sam dying. "Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush! Me and Max should have, like, a million mixtapes with you guys combined, 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. She pleaded, "Just — save her, Dustin, all right? 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...

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

It wasn't, spoiler alert.

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' home. 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 46 minutes.

She couldn't ask Sam to make it, because by that point, they weren't on speaking terms, anymore. 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 ran rather than walked. 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."

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first off sorry for the momentary silence from my part. yesterday i had something to go to after school and i literally didn't get home until 1am. it was absolutely miserable but hey at least i'm back

now to get into the chapter:

sam talked with victor!! what a scene. what a poor guy. sam crying a little cause she felt for him so much. sam making parallels in her mind. just. what a scene (a really important scene)

SAM FIGURING OUT THE MUSIC THING OUT LIKE THE GENIUS SHE IS!! SAM YOU ARE A SAVIOR WE LOVE YOU!

but also why was she hearing "dream a little dream of me" before this interaction with victor??

we don't know. a little concerning isn't it.

dustin calling sam specks again who cheered. curlyspecks enthusiasts are waking up as we speak.

SAMAX HUG WHO CHEERED. A SHORT BUT REALLY SWEET SCENE THAT I LOVED!! MY GIRLS ARE BACK AND MAX ISN'T DEAD AND THEY ARE SO HAPPY SHE'S NOT DEAD!!

sam wasn't even there with their group but she still was the one who saved her. i'm ill.

samax moments that would've been flashing in max's memories as she ran out of the trance:

She caught Max riding in a line idly, with her back facing Sam as she did so. As Max slowed to a stop, Sam said, "It's Max, right?"

Max turned around in surprise, picking up her skateboard as she did so. She eyed Sam with a scrutinizing stare that had Sam nervously rambling again.

"Hi. I'm in your science class," she explained while Max raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if you knew that, already. My name's Sam. Well, it's actually Samantha, but my friends call me Sam."

Sam lightened up at the fact she got Max to laugh, finally easing up a little. She asked, "So you came here from California?"

"Uh, yeah," shrugged Max, and Sam could sense a shift in her mood.

"That's so cool."

Max looked down awkwardly, saying, "I guess so—"

"I mean, what's it like being in Pacific Standard Time?" Sam wondered eagerly, looking at Max with an excited smile. Max completely paused in her tracks, because she was not expecting Sam to be so excited over the Pacific Standard Time. "I've only ever been in Indiana, so EST is all I know. Was it weird when you came here and was basically, like, thrown into the future? Like, technically, three hours of your life are just missing and now I bet your whole perspective of time has to shift—"

Sam is cut off by the sound of Max laughing again. This time, she's laughing really hard; so much so that Sam had to completely stop in her tracks.

"What?" asked Sam, trying to make herself look smaller, now feeling self-conscious.

"Since I've moved here," Max started once her laughter died down, although she sounded terribly amused, "everyone's been asking me about, like, the beaches and surfers and sunshine, but you're asking me about time zones?"

Sam breathed out a heavy breath, relieved she hadn't messed anything up. For a second, she thought Max was making fun of Sam, but this felt light-hearted enough.

"Technically, I am asking you about sunshine," Sam says with an assholish grin. Then, "But, just — like — think about. If you were in California right now it would be — like — 9 A.M. That's so cool."

"You tend to think a lot of things are cool," analyzed Max, still smiling at Sam. "A lot of thing that aren't actually cool."

She's referring to herself, Sam realized very quickly, because she's very good at spotting this kind of stuff. She decided then that she was going to be best friends with Max whether Max wanted to or not.

"Nah, you're gonna find out that I'm basically a certified genius," teased Sam, waving a hand as she pretended to be boastful. "I'm always right about these kids of stuff. Time zones are cool, and so are you."

Max shared Sam's smile, picking up her skateboard. "Oh, I'm very sure, Samantha."

"You should be, Maxine," Sam grinned.

Lucas disagreed, nodding, "No, it's totally impressive. Sam's our little genius."

"Right. Little genius," Dustin rambled, putting the functional trap way at Max's expectant look. He nudged Lucas for getting sidetracked, and continued, "So, we were talking last night, and you're new here, so you probably don't have any friends—"

"Sam's my friend," Max told him, locking her arm with Sam's.

Sam's face brightened up, looking to and from Max excitedly. "I am?"

"Well, duh, Hughes," scoffed Max, as if that had been obvious from the get-go.

"All right, so are you playing me something, Hughes, or am I not special?" Max teased, noticing how Sam was just fidgeting with the instrument, but not really doing anything with is.

Sam's gaze that had previously been locked on the guitar looked up at Max, almost as if caught in the act.

"You want me to play?" asked Sam, as if it didn't look exactly like Sam was going to play the guitar. "I've never... I don't play in front of people." Not since Dad, at least.

"Well, I'd be honored to be the witness to Samantha Hughes's first ever concert," grinned Max, fanning her face as if Sam's presence was enough for her to swoon alone.

Sam huffed, amused. "I am definitely not a music artist."

"Would you ever want to be?" Max wondered curiously.

"If I was good," Sam said, looking over her guitar to Max. "Which I'm not."

Max raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Well, I'll be the judge of that."

Sam met Max's eyes, putting the two girls in some sort of silent battle. But, clearly, Max was not going to back down from this. Sam faltered, exhaling out incredulously.

"You really want to hear me play?" Sam wondered suspiciously.

"No, Sam, I'm just pretending—" Max started sarcastically, before cutting herself off. "Yes! I really want to hear you play!"

Sam sighing, finally giving into Max and looking down at her guitar debatingly.

Then, Sam began to play.

She didn't play the song loud, of course, too afraid Uncle Dan would wake up and storm into Sam's room scarily. But she did, in fact, play. Max was staring, entranced by the strumming of Sam's fingers on the strings. It didn't even look like Sam was meaning to, but she was humming along to the song as she played it. For some reason, Sam felt her eyes stinging with forming tears. Nothing was wrong, it was just... this was her first time playing in front of someone since her dad died. And she certainly hadn't chosen a song to help cheer her up in her grief. She missed him. She just wanted her dad.

Sam sniffled when she was done, and if Max noticed Sam wiping underneath her eyes, she didn't comment on it. She looked back up at Max, a little nervously.

"That was 'Landslide,' right?" Max guessed. "Fleetwood Mac?"

Sam smiled with closed lips, nodding slightly. "Well, yeah, of course it's Fleetwood Mac."

"Hm. I was right."

She eyed Max oddly, wondering, "Right about what?"

"You're really good," Max nodded surely. "And I will be the first person to buy a ticket at Samantha Hughes's second concert."

"I think, um," Sam announced her presence, holding up a bloody jacket in Max's direction. "I think I got some blood on this."

They all blinked at her.

"Fuck, Sam!" Max cursed — why was everyone doing that so much? — before practically jumping out of her chair and launching herself at Sam. She wrapped her arms around Sam's shoulders and squeezed.

Sam wheezed, not even aware that Max was a hugging type of person. Max had grabbed her bloody jacket back and just thrown it to the floor with how grateful she was that Sam was okay. Steve had stepped forward tentatively, trying to pull Max off with a quiet, "Okay, gentle. Gentle. There's still a hole in her side, Red."

Finally, Max released Sam, and Sam could breathe again. She kept two hands on her biceps, though, not really wanting to let Sam out of her sight. She let out a wet laugh, half-heartedly joking, "I can't believe you left me with these idiots for so long."

"Sorry," Sam joked back, but her voice was strained and wobbly.

"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 Max almost swerved off the road. "With the gun and protecting us and Billy and everything. I can't believe when we met you thought I was the cool one."

Sam, since she wasn't driving, could peel her eyes from the road and focus her gaze on Max's face. Worried, her eyebrows furrowed, and she asked, "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."

Mad at herself, Sam's mouth screwed up in embarrassment. She sadly responded, "Yeah, well... he knew I wasn't gonna shoot him, too. He almost tried killing me."

"But he didn't," said Max, focusing on the important part.

"Because of you," Sam added, also focusing on the important part. Her defeated mood was gone quick, and a small smile was planted on her face as she stared at Max. "You saved me back there, Max. I told you you were cool," she finished in a teasing voice.

Max laughed fondly at Sam's addition, ignoring Mike's panicking that Max should be focusing more on the road.

"Okay, fine," Max put on a mock-exasperated tone. "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 Max couldn't turn to see it. 

"We don't know that, Max," stressed Sam, avoiding Max's eyes as she purposely took an absurd amount of time to put on a headband. "If a girl like me lets on she likes a guy like him, then he usually ends up laughing in her face."

Max reached forward and took Sam's headband from her hands. Sam turned to face Max in shock, and looked even more taken aback when Max started putting the headband in Sam's hair for her.

"If he did that, he'd miss out on the best thing that ever happened to him," said Max quietly. Then, she was putting in the headband, so she turned Sam around to face the mirror again. Max smiled at Sam encouragingly through the glass, said, "See? It's not that hard."

Sam smiled back at Max. Although the grin was small, Max could tell it was genuine. Her fingers fidgeted on the bathroom counter, sliding back and forth.

"You know," started Sam, glancing to the side to actually look at Max, and not Max through the mirror, "I've never been one of those girls who... had any long-term friends who were girls. And I do now. And that's... pretty cool."

She shot awake with a gasp, sobbing. Sam tried thrashing backwards but Max was already throwing her arms around Sam and pulling her into a hug. "It's okay, I've got you," Max muttered, holding the back of her head with one hand and wrapping the other around Sam's shoulders. "It was a nightmare, Sam, it's okay."

Sam continued to cry, mind still hazy. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean — I didn't want—"

"Sam," Max held Sam tighter, rubbing a hand up and down her back. "Shh. You were dreaming. It's okay."

Sam gasped in breaths, pulling down the defenses she had unknowingly forced around her mind. She shook her head solemnly and returned Max's embrace, curling up into her best friend.

"Sorry. Sorry, Max, I didn't mean to..."

She didn't know how to finish it. I didn't mean to wake you up. I didn't mean to freak out. I didn't mean to be like this, anymore. They were all plausible options that sounded like something Sam would say, but right now, she couldn't manage to say anything.

"I think I'm getting blood on your shirt," Sam cried into Max's chest, feeling guilty.

"You can do it, Sam. Trust me," Max pressed, and she tried letting go of Sam's other hand, but Sam was squeezing it too tight.

"I trust you," started Sam. "I just don't trust myself not to die."

"Sam."

"Okay, fine, fine! I'm going," Sam grumbled.

Sam finally, finally, let Max's other hand go. For a minute, she just stood there, trying to balance without Max's help. For a minute, Max wondered if Sam was actually going to do anything. Just when Max was about to ask Sam her internal question, Sam stuck out her arms in attempt for balance. Shakily, her back foot started moving off the board.

"So — you — just like — ?"

Sam's foot finally came down on the road. Very slowly, just like Max had advised, Sam pushed gently and moved a good seven inches.

"Yeah!" Max exclaimed in surprise at how Sam had gotten it in her first try. "You're... you're getting it?"

"Am I really?" Sam asked in excitement. Her head whipped up to Max enthusiastically, but just as she did so, it caused Sam to lose balance. The board slid out from under her, and Sam was falling off the board quicker than she could comprehend. "Shit!"

"Wait!" Max ran forward and stabilized Sam before she could actually fall. In unison, both girls let out breaths of relief, as they had successfully prevented Sam from eating shit on the concrete. "Okay. Shit, Hughes."

"Sorry. I get distracted easily," Sam huffed. 

"Angel" by Madonna played on El's radio as the girls were in her room. Sam and Max decided to treat El to her first ever sleepover. The sun had officially gone done, signifying the night, and now Sam was using El's hairbrush as a microphone. She and Max were dancing around El's room, jamming out to Madonna.

"You must be an angel," Sam and Max sang along, Max twirling Sam into her. They swayed together, both singing into the hairbrush, "I can see it in your eyes! Full of wonder and surprise..."

"Yup," Sam's hands stayed firm over her eyes, "I'm not taking any chances."

Max and El turned around in confusion to see that Sam was shielding her vision. The former rolled her eyes, forcing herself not to show her own amusement. Max stepped up to Sam and pulled Sam's hands off her eyes; Sam was met with Max's face close to hers, and smiled innocently at the sight.

"Hi."

"Come on, Hughes," Max rolled her eyes playfully. She grabbed Sam's hand and dragged her further into Billy's room.

"Oh, my god, Sam, we've gotta introduce her to DC," Max commented, picking up Sam's comics that were on the floor from the last time she and Sam went through them.

Sam wasn't listening to Max. She was biting at her thumb nail that had finally just grown back to an acceptable length. Yet, here Sam was, gnawing it down again.

"—am? Sam."

Sam's eyes refocused, and she blinked rapidly to see Max was waving her hand in front of Sam's face. She was staring at Sam expectantly, and Sam realized just then Max had been asking her a question.

"Uh — sorry," Sam forced her thumb out of her mouth. "What is it?"

Max rolled her eyes playfully, like Sam had just been daydreaming; like Sam wasn't thinking about Billy or Heather or the house with the red door or the Upside Down or anything. Like this was just the usual, silly Sam.

"I said — which comic should we start El off with?" reiterated Max, nodding down.

And, oh, there was a pile of comics shared between Sam's and Max's laps. Sam hadn't noticed those there until just now. It looked to be Sam's entire collection of DC comics that Max wanted her to choose from.

"Jeez," Sam huffed, overwhelmed. "I don't know."

But then she started looking through them with Max. The girls chatted idly, discussing the best of the best comics to show El while Sam's cassette player played idly in the background. To no one's surprise, "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac was the current song they listened to.

Sam's head jerked back to Max, and she ran towards her. In a frenzy, Mike yelled, "Max, get away from the door!"

"What—?" Max was about to say. Sam had wrapped her arms around Max's waist and threw her away from the door, right as Billy used a tile shard to break through the window. Shards of glass flew at the two.

"Let me out, you bitch! LET ME OUT! I'll fucking gut you!" Billy threatened, swinging his hand in the air, aiming at Sam and/or Max. He threw the metal pole to the side, no longer underneath the door handle, as he continued to roar in anger. Sam held Max, trying to protect and comfort a crying Max through it all. "LET ME OUT!"

"And..." she started, but quickly caught sight of the flashing red alarm that was Sam's whole demeanor. "And what's wrong with you?"

Sam immediately jumped out of Lucas's grip, trying to stand firmly by herself without showing any pain. She shook her head, "Nothing — I'm fine—"

"She's been in pain ever since El has," Lucas cut her off, forcing Sam to let him help her stand again. It passed Sam off to no end that she stumbled into the grasp. "She couldn't get up, and she's been limping on her left leg."

"Why?" Will questioned. "She looks fine."

Corey snorted in disagreement.

"Okay, well, her leg looks fine," Will corrected himself with an eye roll.

Lucas and Max shared eye contact, they seemed to be having a wordless conversation. Sam hated that she was taking away attention from El.

"Guys, really," Sam tried pulling herself away from Lucas again, but failed to do so. "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't," Max disagreed, looking to Lucas. "But we think we know why."

Like the two had discussed this topic before, Lucas shot Sam a wry look. He asked her, "Remember when I called you an Empath?"

"No," Sam immediately protested. "No way."

"Wait, what?" Mike questioned what they were insinuating, accidentally forcing more pressure onto El's ankle. Sam winced at the action, and now the attention really was on her. Shit.

Max sighed, standing up so they could really discuss this. "Come on, Sam. Remember when we had our first ever sleepover Halloween night? You dropped your guitar on me, but—"

"But I hissed in pain," Sam mumbled, finally putting it all together in detestation. "Shit."

"It would explain why you're in pain with El right now," Lucas said.

"And why you were in pain in the void," El added.

Will blurted, "And why you're so good at reading people."

"Reading their emotions, too," Corey included himself, though he did not seem a fan that Sam could do that.

Sam huffed, thoroughly feeling like she was being ganged up on right now. "Guys, this is craz—" she was cut off by herself and El grunting in pain at the same time. There was a deadpan expression on Sam's features. "Okay, maybe you're right."

"Samantha Renee Hughes admitting our theories about her powers are right," Lucas mused sarcastically. "What kind of world are we living in?"

Sam let out a quiet whimper, the fear and pain becoming all too much. Max slapped her hand over Sam's, squeezing it tightly — whether it was to comfort Sam or herself, Sam didn't know. Sam looked to the side to see that Max's eyes were screwed shut just as tight as her grip on Sam's hand was.

Max didn't want to die.

Then, much too smoothly for a girl in so much pain, Sam stepped out of the room, yanked out the Makarov she'd stolen, and shut the door on the trio. Using her elbow, Sam swung her arm down and broke the handle off so that Max, Mike, and El were locked in.

More importantly, Billy was locked out.

Sam was sacrificing herself.

"Oh, my god," Sam laughed as she picked up a small, square cassette tape that was scribbled on in her handwriting.

"What is it?" Lucas asked, trying to peer into Sam's side and read what she was looking at.

Sam shouldered him away with a mock-annoyed look before she explained, "One of my mixtapes. I must've left it here the last time we hung out at Will's."

"Let me guess," mocked Max. "Fleetwood Mac, Fleetwood Mac, Fleetwood Mac, The Beatles, ABBA, Fleetwood Mac..."

Sam peered over a box to glare half-heartedly at Max.

"Since you love my music taste so much, Fleetwood Max, you can keep the mix-tape," Sam said, and despite the awful pun for a nickname, she genuinely meant it.

Max pulled a disgusted face at the nickname while Lucas and Dustin cackled.

"Fleetwood Max," Dustin barked out a laugh. "I'm stealing that, Specks."

"If you do, Henderson, I will pluck out all of your curls individually."

"You didn't threaten Sam!"

"That's 'cause I'm her favorite," Sam grinned. Then, "Here."

She threw Max the mix-tape, accidentally hitting Max in the shoulder rather than aiming it to her awaiting hands. Max fumbled to grasp it a little, but when she did, Max examined the songs Sam had written down onto the plastic.

"Huh," Max hummed. "Kate Bush. I'm impressed, Hughes."

Sam smiled at her with a smart-ass look. "And it's not all Fleetwood Mac. So hah."

"You sure you don't want this?" she checked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam shrugged, going back to packing more items back into boxes. "Nah, I have enough of my own, anyways. You'll probably make better use of it than I did."

Sam, Lucas, and Max shared amused eye contact.

Then—

"Turn around!" Sam, Lucas, and Max sang, changing the duet into a trio. "Look at what you seeee...!"

Dustin shot all of them the middle finger as Sam began adding claps, Lucas shimmied dramatically, and Max swayed annoyingly into Dustin's side.

"In her face, the mirror of your dreeeeams...!"

Sam looked to Max as she the car jolted. She blurted, "You good?"

Max met her gaze and relaxed when looking at Sam. Her shoulders fell, and the anxiety was leaving her in waved. "Are you?" she asked.

Sam sighed. They both knew the answer to both of their questions.

"We'll figure all of this out soon, okay?" Sam promised, because she couldn't say anything else with as much certainty.

Max faltered. It was the most of the real Max Sam had seen in a while. "You believe that?"

"I can't believe anything else. I just... want things to go back to the way they were," Sam confessed, and they weren't talking about the Vecna situation anymore. "Before last summer."

Max watched Sam like she was the safe haven.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "I miss it."

'I miss you,' she means.

Max tried to muster up a smile. She admitted, "I miss you, too."

Sam softened up completely, all those rough edges she'd acquired over the months dulling out. Max missed her, too. Their friendship wasn't all for nothing.

not including all of the moments that happened outside of the story!!

are you getting emotional? cause i'm getting emotional

what'd you think?