◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

"Will, please!" begged Sam, cupping his face now and trying to force him to look at her. But Will didn't budge, and instead, Sam heard the slamming of the exit doors behind her. Sam's head whipped around to see Lucas, Mike, Corey, Dustin, Max, and even Joyce running towards Will and Sam. She explained, "I just found him like this! I think he's having another episode!"

When the rest of the group finally reached Sam and Will, Joyce was immediately reaching for her son. Sam moved out of the way so Joyce could try and help him, because clearly Sam was useless. She joined everyone else in crowding around Will in a worried circle.

"Will!" Joyce planted her arms at the sides of Will's arms, trying to reach him. "Will! Will! Sweetie, wake up! Will, it's Mom! WILL!"

But Will wasn't budging, to any avail. Like Sam had been doing, Joyce's hands slid up to cup Will's face desperately.

"Will, wake up! Can you hear me?! Will, please, just wake up! Please, WAKE UP—!"

And with a gasp, Will woke up.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Everyone exited the school from the proper, main entrance, Joyce leading the group with Will around her arm. The remaining kids stood by the front stairs, watching from afar as Joyce got into her car with Will.

"Okay," said Max, the second Will and Joyce were out of earshot, "that totally freaked me out. Did that not freak you guys out?"

No one answered her.

"It felt cold again," Sam spoke up anxiously, gripping her broken Walke tightly. She had accidentally shattered it when she threw it to the ground for Will.

Though, a confused Mike argued, "He was burning up when I touched him, though?"

"No, no," Sam shook her head surely. "He was cold."

"That's two episodes in two days," said Lucas, all emotion devoid from his tone.

"It's getting worse," Mike muttered, watching the Byers' car grow smaller and smaller into the distance.

Lucas looked at Sam. He asked, "You really think it's True Sight?"

"What's True Sight?" Max questioned, entirely out of the loop.

To not make them seem totally suspicious, Corey nudged her lightly. He explained, "Some nerd thing from their nerd game. I don't understand it, either."

"Shut up, Corey," Sam mumbled, eyes glued onto the green car Will was inside. "Not the time."

There was something bad happening inside of Will, and they needed to fix it before whatever cold evil that had come to Hawkins took Will for a second time.

But Sam didn't know how — how to fix it, how to stop all this suffering.

Sam didn't think she had ever felt this fucking useless and pathetic in her life. Because who the fuck was she, if she couldn't protect her friends? Who was she? Nobody, was the answer. In many ways, they were all she had — and sometimes that included being the soul factor of her very identity. She had nothing if she didn't have them.

And the worst part was that Sam wasn't exaggerating.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

"Lucas, how's it going?"

"Bad! What do you think?"

A warm, autumn sun shone brightly this morning, its rays hitting the four Hawkins Middle students who surrounded themselves by the school's local garbage bin. Why? Because an unlucky Lucas drew the short straw and had to dig through the trash for the party's current problem — Dart the demon.

Impatiently, Corey asked, "Well, have you found anything yet?"

"You think I'd still be in here if I had?" Lucas snapped back.

Feeling bad with how miserable Lucas was, Sam frowned at the garbage bin. She was too short to see over or in the dumpster, so just staring at the object would have to do.

"Lucas," Sam started sympathetically, "we can switch out if you want. I feel bad—"

"No, Sam, it's okay," she heard Lucas deny immediately. "I don't want you in this shit. Literally."

Sam's shoulders fell, feeling useless again. She wanted to ask Lucas if he was sure, but knew Lucas was much too stubborn for his own good.

"Oh, so, we love the trash when Sam offers to jump in for you," Corey muttered under his breath sarcastically, although Lucas couldn't hear him. Sam definitely could, so she kicked Corey weakly in retaliation.

"Guys, this is way too gross!" Lucas complained amidst a groan.

Throwing her hands up, Sam said, "I just offered—"

"Stop being a baby and do it already!" Mike cut Sam off, speaking to Lucas who was stalling in the dumpster.

Max's nose scrunched up in distaste. "This is so disgusting. Is this really necessary?"

Taking the group's attention away from the activity at hand was the arrival of Dustin. He appeared at the scene, looking confused as ever as to why his friends were surrounding the school's trash bin.

"What the hell's going on?" Dustin asked, hands turned up in bewilderment.

"What do you think?" Mike asked, leaning on the one of the long, wooden poles they'd acquired to search from afar. "We're looking for Dart."

Just as he said it, a black trash bag flew out of the dumpster clumsily. Some old food and other kinds of trash shot out, and everyone scrambled back in disgust at the sight and smell of it.

"Jesus!"

"Oh!"

"Ugh!"

"Gross!"

"It could be worse," Sam murmured with a shrug, earning disapproving looks from her friends. "Or not. Sorry. Nevermind."

Lucas pulled himself out of the dumpster and landed on the black concrete with a grunt. His eyes narrowed on Dustin, forming into a glare.

"Well, well, well," Lucas started, straightening up and brushing his clothes off. "Look who finally decided to show up! After I drew the short straw. Real convenient."

"You stink!" Max groaned, leaving Lucas's side and walking over to where Dustin was. Corey joined her, being left next to Lucas in Max's wake.

Mike and Sam were left alone on Lucas's side. The two of them shared a look, shrugged cluelessly, then turned their attention back to everyone else.

"Where's Will?" Dustin asked Sam and Mike.

Before Sam could speak, Mike was confidently saying, "He'll be here," although Sam thought otherwise.

Lucas grabbed another long, wooden pole, saying to Dustin, "Are you just gonna stand there?" He tossed the pole to Dustin, who caught it with one hand. "Or are you gonna help?"

And so the group began poking at the trash before the bag tore open. Since Lucas had to scrounge around in the trash, no one made him help out for this part. It was just Sam, Mike, Corey, and Max who continued to beat the trash for the interdimensional creature.

But Dart was nowhere to be found.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Sam's initial gut instinct was right — Will hadn't show up at school for the morning. Sam had been worried since the first period when she saw no sight of a bowl-cut head in front of her in Mr. Clarke's class. Now, it was noon, and still no sight of Will.

Sam had met up with the others in the recess yard, all of them questioning Will's whereabouts. It was Mike who shot up first, so concerned he was opting to call Will's house and see if he was there. Sam was standing up with him, digging a quarter out of her pocket so they could use the rotary.

"Here," Sam said to Mike, handing him the quarter so he could call the Byers household first.

Mike took it gratefully, looking down at Sam before he inserted the quarter. "What do we do if no one picks up?"

"Kill ourselves," Sam said jokingly, but Mike was not interested in any jokes right now. "Kidding. Obviously. I don't know. We can go there after school."

Mike sighed, turning away from Sam and putting the quarter into the public phone. He dialed the Byers' house phone number, letting the line ring.

Sam watched as Mike impatiently waited for an answer to his call. As the phone continued ringing, the more peeved Mike seemed to get. It just kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing until—

"Hey, you've reached..."

Mike exhaled out sharply in annoyance, slamming the phone back on its stand as the answering machine began talking to him. Sam frowned slightly at the scene, because it meant that no one picked up.

"I guess we've gotta kill ourselves now," said Sam, trying to defuse the tension.

"It wasn't funny the first time, and it wasn't funny this time," Mike deadpanned into the rotary. He began turning around as he said, "We're gonna call a meet..."

He fell silent of his own accord, confusing Sam. Suddenly, Mike's eyes were on something behind Sam, making her eyebrows furrow in cluelessness.

"What is it—?"

"Samantha Hughes," came a familiar voice from right behind Sam.

Sam whipped around in fear to see Principal Coleman and fucking Chief Jim Hopper staring at Sam expectantly. Although she tried to fight against it, her eyes were widening in bewilderment. Why was the chief here for her?

"Um... hi," Sam said, very awkwardly. She heard Mike exhale tiredly from behind her.

"You're being dismissed with school," Principal Coleman told her, which only make Sam's anxiety skyrocket.

Hopper nodded from next to Principal Coleman, said, "I'm gonna need you to come with me, kid."

I'm gonna need you to come with me, kid. Something happened. It's your parents.

Sam's breathing sped up increasingly, so she tried squeezing her fists to calm it down. It wasn't really working, because all she heard was, It's your parents. I'm gonna take you to the hospital.

"O-Okay," Sam nodded shakily, voice very disheartened. She looked back at Mike for a little bit of comfort, but his expression wasn't very comforting. When he realized Sam was looking at him, he tried nodding encouragingly at her, which made Sam gulp and face Hopper again.

Sam tried taking in a deep breath, before taking a step forward. Next thing she knew, Hopper was leading her out of school.

They traveled through the halls together, where lingering kids all burned holes into Sam's panicked figure. She was gripping at her backpack's straps for dear life, trying to avoid eye contact. Sam was doing a good job, too, until she accidentally met Justin's stare.

His blue eyes were boring into Sam's green ones, and it made Sam feel more seen than ever before. Not in a good way, in a terrible uncomfortable way that made Sam want to gouge Justin's eyes out so that he could never look at her again.

Okay, no. That was a little much.

She didn't know where those thoughts came from.

Anyways.

The second Sam and Hopper were out the front doors, Sam immediately began—

"I-Is it my sister?" Sam's voice cracked. "Is my sister okay? Where is she? Where is Steph?"

"Steph's fine," said Hopper, sounding a little guilty that he didn't think about where Sam's mind would wander to in this situation.

Sam instantly felt a little relieved, but not too much so, because she was still hopping into the passenger seat of the chief's cop car.

"Oh. Well," Sam's faced was etched with confusion. She tilted her head at Hopper. "Where are going?"

"To Will's house."

That instilled fear returned into Sam tenfold as a chill racked through her body. The mention of Will may be even scarier than anxious thoughts about Stephanie, because the thing wrong with Will was a lot more dangerous than what could've been wrong with someone else. Again, Sam was... cold.

"What's wrong with Will, then?" Sam continued her nervous pestering. "Is he okay?"

Sam watched as Hopper sighed, putting his keys into the ignition and starting his car once Sam hastily clicked in her seatbelt.

"I'll let you see that for yourself, Hughes."

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

What Sam was looking at... wasn't normal.

The moment she stepped into the Byers' household, the first thing she noticed was that it was cold. Yes, the evil kind of cold Sam had been feeling, but also general chilliness; like, the thermostat was on 30 degrees, or something.

Then, after she realized that, arms wrapping around herself to find some warmth, she was ushered towards the back of the house. Hopper brought Sam into Will's room, where she was met with a concerned Joyce and a shirtless Will. How the fuck was his shirtless right now? It was freezing.

"Hey, Will. You want me to get you a sweatshirt?" Sam had asked immediately.

But in unison, all of Will, Joyce, and Hopper protested, "No."

And, well, now...

Now Sam was looking at this.

"This" being stacks and stacks and stacks of obscure crayon sketches and multi-colored papers that Sam couldn't make any sense of. They were all black and blue and purple and orange and red and the drawings were made of sharp lines, not smooth, beautiful figures.

Sam was sitting down on Will's bed, surrounded by the multitude of papers. She set the few papers she'd held for closer inspection into her lap, looking up at the three, expectant pairs of eyes staring down at her.

"I don't understand," Sam's eyebrows creased, confounded. Her head turned just to Will, and she wondered, "Why — Why'd you draw all of this, Will?"

But the other three stiffened up, as if that was not the answer they had wanted. Joyce and Hopper shared a particular look, but Will's newly-cold eyes burned into Sam emotionlessly.

"You did," said Will.

Sam leaned back a little, surprised. She looked to Joyce and Hopper, waiting for them to tell Will he had no clue what he was talking about, but they didn't. They stared at Sam, too.

"What?" Sam asked, as if they were all crazy, because they sounded crazy.

"You drew all of that, Sam," Will told her again, not faltering once.

And Sam loved Will. Really, she did. So much. But this little shit was getting on her nerves right now. Maybe it was his usually-soft eyes, not soulless, or his usually-bright smile, now vanished, or his warm self, now a painful cold. Either way, there was something about Will that was off, and now he's telling Sam that she drew this abstract art on maybe hundreds of pieces of paper, which didn't make any sense at all.

"Yeah, okay, I get that part," said Sam, trying not to lose her patience. "Except, I didn't. You did."

Will shook his head, argued, "No, you did."

Before Sam snapped at Will, she breathed in and out deeply. She looked away from Will, and instead to the logical adults. Gesturing towards the frail-looking boy, she asked, "What is he talking about?"

And it was Joyce who stepped forward, the kind mother she was. She crouched in front of Sam on the bed, reaching her eye level.

"He's not lying, honey," said Joyce, much more gentler than Will had been. "These aren't Will's drawings."

Growing frustrated, Sam desperately asked, "How do you know that?" She looked between them all incredulously, who were doing shit to actually explain things to Sam, and she was getting really tired with all the wonderings. "If you found all of this in your house, and Will is an artist who loves coloring, and not me, then how did you come to the conclusion that I drew these?"

Hopper stepped forward, now. Not gently, he picked up one of the drawings, and forced it into Sam's possession. Only this time, he gave Sam a view of the back of the paper sheet.

It was white, not colored on with a series of black, blue, red, orange, and purple like the other side. The lack of color isn't what caught Sam's attention, though.

There, sprawled on in the right corner, was Sam H.

Sam felt her heart drop. That was her signature. That was...

"That's my handwriting," Sam said, barely audible with how strained her voice was. Desperate for this to just be a mistake, that Will just copied her signature perfectly, Sam picked up another paper and flipped the backside up.

Sam H, was scrawled onto the right corner.

She grabbed another paper and flipped it.

Sam H.

Another paper.

Sam H.

Another.

Sam H.

Another.

Sam H.

Another.

Sam H.

Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H. Another. Sam H—

"Sam. Sam, Sam, honey," Joyce tried getting Sam to stop, because she was basically hyperventilating and going through the papers rapidly with shaky hands.

It was like she wasn't even in the same place as them as she did so. Her eyes were glossing over with the more Sam H's she saw.

"Sam, Sam. Sweetie. Sam," Joyce attempted grabbing Sam, but Sam refused to stop searching through the papers. She was trying to thrash herself out of Joyce's grip, and the three watching as Sam's face slowly began screwing up. When the first tear fell, Joyce's grip on Sam went strong, forcing Sam to still. She snapped, "Sam!"

Sam whipped her head up to Joyce through hyperventilating breaths, grip on the papers going limp. She didn't understand what was going on. She didn't, she didn't, she didn't. Very unstable, Sam tried asking, "What is — How — How is this happening? Where'd you get this? I don't — I don't understand—"

"Breathe, sweetie," Joyce cooed, smoothing her hands down the sides of Sam's arms trying to calm her. Sam tried sucking in a shaky breath, and Joyce continued, "Breathe."

They waited until Sam genuinely breathed fully in and fully out before anyone talked again.

"Sam," Will said, devoid of any emotion. Sam's head focused on Will with a confused face. She watched as he walked past the adults and sat himself down right next to Sam after moving some of the papers to the floor. "Do you remember last Friday? You were staying at my house one night because your uncle..." and he side-eyed Hopper cautiously, in a way that Sam immediately got the memo.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," Sam answered, tentatively. "I still don't understand—"

"I woke up in the middle of the night to pee," Will cut her off, and Sam did not need to know that. "But I woke up to find that you were in my room, drawing on my desk. You were drawing... you were drawing all of this."

Sam inhaled sharply, shaking her head subconsciously with a disturbed look. "What? I don't... I don't remember that."

"Well, you did," said Will. "It was scary. You were... You were doing it so fast, like you were in a trance. And all the lights were off, but somehow I could see a blue light shining onto the papers. I tried getting your attention, but you couldn't hear me, so I... walked close, and... Sam, your nose was bleeding."

No.

No, he couldn't have seen that. This couldn't be real, okay? It just couldn't. Sam didn't draw any of this, her nose wasn't bleeding (for a second time as of recently), and Will was just rambling. Maybe he was trying to cope with his episodes, but this was not real.

"Bull," Sam shook her head, refusing to believe it.

"I know how it sounds, Sam," frowned Will, "but I swear it happened."

With a slightly annoyed look, Hopper asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone, kid?"

"Because I couldn't," whimpered Will. He back at Sam, said, "Because I thought... I don't know, I thought you were trying to distract yourself from what had happened earlier in the night. You wouldn't have wanted to talk about it if you were. So I didn't say anything, and I just hid the drawings away in my closet."

Okay, and... well, Sam gets it. Will didn't tell anyone, because he thought he was helping Sam feel better. It wasn't his fault. He didn't know any better. When Lonnie was still living with the Byers, Will never wanted to talk about him. Sam was the only one who would let him stay quiet, and in return, he never badgered Sam about her living conditions.

But this would've been good to know a long time before now.

"I still don't..." Sam shook her head, fists clenching and hitting her lap, "I still don't understand any of this. What's going on?"

And again, Joyce and Hopper were sharing a look, with Joyce's head turning back and up at the chief. In scary unison, they looked back at Sam together,

Tentatively, Joyce started, "We don't think Will's episodes are actually episodes, anymore..."

"Something attached itself to me yesterday," said Will.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

So Will was possessed, essentially, and wasn't that so fun?

Joyce and Hopper had left for the living room while Will explained that Will had been seeing a sort of shadow monster from the Upside Down in his "episodes." Will showed Sam a drawing he had created, depicting exactly what Will had been seeing. Apparently it was a massive, spider-like creature made from a shadow that attached itself to Will, and now he could feel it everywhere. Now, Will could see these sorts of things called "now-memories" from this monster, a little glimpse into what he wants and what he's doing. There was something (yes, it's all frustratingly vague) growing and spreading and that was the most information Sam could get out of Will.

"Your drawings," Will had said. "That's him, Sam. The growing and spreading. This is exactly what I mean."

Raising an incredulous eyebrow, Sam questioned, "I drew what you're seeing in your 'now-memories'?"

"I know it sounds crazy—" Will started sadly.

"No," Sam interjected immediately, not wanting her friend to feel bad. "No, no. You're not crazy, okay? I can... I'll figure this out. I mean, I created this shit, after-all, so it's only fair..."

Since Will had filled Sam in, Sam had gotten off of the bed just because she needed to pace. She couldn't sit still with the knowledge of everything going on. She needed to do something before she felt even more useless than she already was.

Sam picked up a stack of her terrible obscure drawings, examining them as she walked back and forth. She groaned, rubbing her face with one hand, said "It — It's just all the same. I don't get it."

Will was looking at a few pages himself. "All alone they look like just scribbles," he commented in confusion.

Then Sam paused.

All alone they look like just scribbles.

All alone they look like just scribbles.

So what if they were all together?

Now struck with an idea, Sam held the stack of papers in one hand. She took the paper on top with other hand, holding it above the stack underneath it.

And the lines matched up perfectly.

"Wait, wait," said Sam, mind working faster than she could even comprehend. She did the same thing, matching up papers either by their sides or their tops or their bottoms. It didn't matter. One way or another, they matched up regardless. "Wait."

"What?" Will questioned desperately, because he knew that look on Sam. He had a name for it, actually. When he realized what it was, he muttered, "Scheming Face..."

Sam held her arm out in front of Will on his bed, in a way of trying to still him even though he wasn't even moving. "Stay here, all right? I have to talk to your mom and Hopper."

And, honestly, Sam looked like a madwoman right now. She always did when she made some, new discovery. After knowing Sam for so long, Will figured it best to just let her do her thing right now, and she would explain later.

Sam came speeding into the Byers' living room, just assuming that Joyce and Hopper were on the couch, because she wasn't actually looking where she was going. Her eyes were glued onto her drawings, thinking of her most recent discovery.

"I figured it — Ow!" Sam cut herself off, because she ran into the corner of the couch. She finally looked up to see Joyce and Hopper eyeing Sam in concern. Sam shifted her direction so she actually made it to the adults this time. Again, she tried, "I figured it out!"

"How? These drawings mean nothing," Hopper commented, which, ouch, Sam drew these, thank you very much.

Sam sat down next to Joyce on the couch, splitting the stack of papers into three, and giving both Joyce and Hopper a stack of their own.

"Look at this," Sam said, taking one of her papers and holding it over Joyce's. She positioned Hopper's arm so his paper was to the side of Sam's. "These black lines, see?" She positioned the drawing so that the purple tubes aligned, outlined by the black crayon; outside of the black barrier were the reds, blues, and oranges, but Sam wasn't worried about that. Sam pointed out, "Look, they connect."

Both Joyce and Hopper's expressions warped into those of incredulous realization. Sam was right. They do connect.

They looked up from the aligned drawings and back to Sam, as if they'd never seen anything quite like her.

Excited that she'd finally helped out, Sam reiterated, "They connect."

And so the three decided to connect them.

Hopper pushed the Byers' furniture to the side of the room so they could get started. They needed an empty space of they were going to tape these hundreds of drawings around the house. Sam felt bad while doing it, because all she could think of is how much the Byers house went through when the Upside Down shit was involved. Like, Joyce had just managed enough money to afforded getting the alphabet paint wall covered up. Now, the walls were being covered up with Sam's abstract drawings, instead.

It definitely took a long while, but soon enough, every single wall, ceiling, and floor in the Byers household was thoroughly covered in Sam's drawings. Her theory was right, the lines connected; every single one, in fact. Some of the lines branched off and ended it tentacle looking things, but for the most part, her tube-like drawings aligned completely.

When Sam, Joyce, and Hopper finished, the three of them stood to the side of the living room, eyeing the scene before them.

"Holy shi — shoot," Sam commented in bewilderment, because she drew all of this; whatever it was. "Holy shoot."

"Does this mean anything to either of you?" Hopper asked Sam and Joyce.

Sam shook her head.

Joyce said "No," before she sighed in bewilderment. She began walking around the floors, examining the work. "I mean, is it some sort of maze or a road? I-I mean, it's sort of forking and branching like... like lightning."

"You think it's that storm?" Hopper questioned, because Will had mentioned the shadow monster appearing in an Upside Down-like storm.

"No, the storm he drew was completely different. He used red," informed Joyce. "And these are all blue, and this... this weird dirt color. No offense, Sam."

"None taken," Sam shrugged. Aloud, she thought, "They kind of look like tentacles — Or maybe it's roots? Didn't Will say it was, you know, spreading, and — and—"

"Killing," Hopper finished for her with a certain edge to his tone. Hit with a realization, he explained, "He said they were killing."

Or, at least, it sounded like he was trying to explain something. Although Sam had no clue what that was. She looked to Joyce, hoping she understood what was so imperative about the comprehension. Unfortunately, the mother looked just as clueless as him.

Hopper elaborated with, "Vines," before hastily grabbing his coat and hat. "Sam drew vines."

And then, Hopper was out the door before either Sam or Joyce could get a word in.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

well this is a little awkward...

a little plot divergence i see??

hm... i wonder what that could be about...

theories?

anyways. sam still not being over her parents' death kills me. and when she makes a connection to their death and what's going on the light in me dies a little every time. goodnight.

what'd you think?