◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Needless to say, Sam was scared out of her mind after what happened with Max.

When Nancy and Robin arrived, Max told the group that she had heard a clock chiming in her head. She didn't think it was in her head, though; to Max, it all seemed real. Then, upon further inspection, Max claimed she followed the chiming and found a tall, grandfather clock shoved into the wall of a stunted hallway.

But as the group shined their flashlights onto where Max did see the clock, the wall was just blank. There was nothing there.

"It was here," Max told them, distressed. "Right here."

Unconvinced, Nancy asked, "A grandfather clock?"

Max shook her head unstably, face morphed into terror. A lone tear slipped down her cheek as she said, "It was so real... And then, when I got closer, suddenly I just," she breathed in shakily, "I woke up."

Max...

"It was like she was in a trance or something," Dustin told the girls. "Exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy."

"And what happened to Fred," added Sam.

"Nearly made me go psycho," Auggie told Max. "You freaked me out."

Max turned around to the group, distraught face deepening. Her teary face was illuminated by their feeble flashlights.

"That's not even the bad part," she told them.

Sam wondered how it could get worse.

Max proceeded to bring the whole group back into Ms. Kelley's office. It was more crowded now with the addition of Nancy and Robin, but Sam didn't mind; she wasn't claustrophobic like Corey.

Max stood behind Ms. Kelley's desk, facing everyone as they peered at Chrissy's and Fred's files.

"Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Ms. Kelley for help," Max started. She finally let the group get a clear view of their symptoms now that Max wasn't in a trance over them. "Uh, they were both having headaches — bad headaches that wouldn't go away. And then... then the nightmares."

Max's voice cracked as she gripped the desk with her hands. Sam, who was nearly shoulder to shoulder with Max, put her hand on top of Max's for comfort; she was just as, if not more distressed as Max. Sam's mind fell back to the nightmares of her own.

Max continued, "Trouble sleeping. They'd wake up in a cold sweat. And then they started seeing things... Bad things, from their pasts. These visions, they just... they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually," tears covered her cheeks as she cried the information out, "everything ended."

Robin peered up at Max from the chair she was sitting in. "Vecna's curse."

Max nodded, solemnly.

She wasn't insinuating...?

"Chrissy's headache started a week ago. Fred's, six days ago." Max looked up at them, "I've been having them for five days."

Max...

That had been the same voice Sam heard with Fred.

Fred... I want you to join me.

No.

"I don't know how long I have," Max tried not to cry as the tears started falling faster. "All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than twenty-four hours after their first vision." Max gripped Sam's hand with her right and gestured wildly with her left. "And I just saw that goddamn clock, so..."

She sniffled.

"Looks like I'm gonna die tomorrow."

Everyone stared at each other, tense silence suffocating them and swallowing them all whole. Sam began fidgeting with one of her rings nervously. She did not want to think, did not want to even imagine a world where Max died to Vecna; a world without Max Mayfield at all. It would be unbearable.

"No," she decided, voice broken in soft.

Max's grip on her hand twitched, and she faced the blonde.

"What?"

"No, all right?" Sam repeated, hands moving off the desk to talk with them wildly. "You're not dying. I'm not letting that happen."

Max frowned, tried, "Sam—"

"Max."

Max shut up.

"You're not dying," Sam said again, but this time it was a whisper. "If you go, I go. Both of us or neither of us."

Sam and Max stared at each other, and the world fell around them. Blue eyes met green, and Sam couldn't help but think that the universe had no mercy for her. She sounded childish, trying to decide Max's fate as if she had any say in it at all. But she was stubborn, and would go to the ends of the Earth searching for some semblance of an answer if it meant she could save Max.

Both of us or neither of us.

There was a distant CLANG that scared the whole group, jolting Sam's eyes away from Max. They all whipped their heads around in fear for where the noise sounded from.

Sam whispered, "Stay here," before she pushed past everyone in the room to leave the room. Electric blue energy zapped at her fingertips as she did so.

Auggie's head darted around at the remaining group, surprised they actually listened. He looked at them like they were crazy.

"She's not being serious, is she?" Auggie asked.

No one responded, though, and the silence spoke volumes. Auggie rolled his eyes at Sam's savior complex.

"Yeah, all right," he agreed sarcastically, just moments before he was picking up a standing lamp and following after Sam.

After Auggie followed Sam, the rest of the group decided to do the same. All seven of them trailed out in the hallway, everyone a few steps back from Sam. Sam, in question, tentatively creeped closer toward the sound, electricity rushing through her veins and materializing around her fingers. If they had been in front of her, they would've seen her eyes glowing blue.

They could hear the incoming footsteps pounding closer — or was that the rapid beating of Sam's heart? With bated breath, they waited for the intruder to—

Lucas Sinclair appeared from the corner, running as fast as he could.

Everyone began yelled and startling backwards. Auggie went to swing the lamp down at Lucas with the lamp, but stopped himself before he actually did. Sam screamed, making all the lights go off around her. Lucas was screaming as well — that squeaky, girlish scream of his — putting his hands in front of him to try and show his innocence.

"AHH!" Lucas screamed, out of breath. "IT'S ME!"

"Lucas?!" Nancy questioned wildly, calming down.

Out of breath, Lucas panted, "It's me!"

"JESUS! Jesus! What's wrong with you, Sinclair?!" snapped Steve, heart racing.

Still out of breath, Lucas gasped for air with hands on his hips. "I'm sorry."

"I could've taken you out with my powers!" Sam berated Lucas incredulously, letting the lightning in question dissipate around her.

"Sorry, guys," Lucas heaved, breath still short. "Sorry."

Sam finally put her hands down with a sharp exhale; they all tried to catch their breaths after Lucas's jump scare. She clutched at her chest, slowly sucking in and out. It was just Lucas, her mind told herself. Just Luke.

But he'd scared the crap out of her, and it felt like her heart would beat out of its throat.

Lucas, however, was out of breath for different reasons.

"I was... I was biking for eight miles," he choked out desperately. Lucas pushed the bottom of his jacket back to hold his hips, and held up one finger to tell them 'one second' so he would catch his breath. Warily, Sam watched him grunt and pant. "Give me one second."

Sam felt bad for him, although not terribly awful, because she literally almost just shocked the shit out of him. Then, he wouldn't be very conscious to even tell them what he'd been doing.

"Shit..." Lucas breathed. He straightened up, eyeing the group of seven. "We've got a code red."

Steve shrugged incredulously. "What?"

Lucas swallowed, trying to clear out the dryness of his throat. He marched past Sam and instead towards Dustin frantically. "Dustin," he panted, "I've been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy — all day, and they've gone, like, totally off the rails. They're trying to — capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is." Lucas heaved, gasping for air and covered in sweat. "You're — in terrible danger!"

Dustin nodded slowly, surprised but not too peeved. "All right, yeah, that definitely sucks, but... we've got bigger problems than Jason right now."

Lucas's head immediately whipped towards Sam, expecting the worse when it came to her. Sam met his stare, gazing intensely. It wasn't the time to do so, but she couldn't break away from the dark pools that were his eyes.

The new feeling returned, but it wasn't so new anymore.

Sam willed herself to shake her head slightly, letting Lucas know she was okay. She broke away from the eye contact; her eyes shifted off of Lucas, and instead to Max in the distance at the back of the group.

Lucas followed her vision, head turning. He looked at Max while panting, and then he faltered at the realization that something was wrong. Lucas stared a Max in a mix of care and concern.

Max was in danger.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Auggie had waited months to meet Lucas Sinclair, in the flesh.

Because, you see, Auggie wasn't a genius like Sam, but he did have a theory.

Auggie knew a lot about Sam and her (old? current?) friend group. He and Sam spent a good amount of time together doing nothing in that AV room, so they filled a lot of the space by talking. Auggie didn't really... have prior friends to talk about other than Sam. He'd always been a reclusive kid, and he honestly didn't have a reason for it. Not some underlying trauma or some dramatic sob story — the truth was that he couldn't socialize and that was that.

Sam was the opposite of Auggie.

She never talked about herself; she always had so much to say about others. She always had so much to say about her friends. Sam talked about Justin, though she never seemed to notice how little good things there were to say about him. Will, the artist who moved to California. Jane, the doe-eyed girl who was sweet up until anyone crossed her friends. Dustin, the curly-haired boy who was the dork to Sam's nerd. Mike, the tall lanky boy she understood better than any person. Max, the girl who shone like the moon and called Sam sunshine.

Sam also talked about Lucas.

A lot.

She never realized how much she talked about Lucas.

Lucas liked basketball and D&D and weaponry, but Sam also knew a lot more than that. His birthday, his favorite things, his least favorite things, how to make him laugh, how to piss him off. She told stories of when they were younger, and stories of when they were a little older than that. She had picture frames off all her friends in the AV room, but while everyone was in one, Lucas was in two.

Sam was dating Justin Zimmerman — for much longer than she should've been, may Auggie add — but she never talked about Justin as much as she talked about Lucas.

And she didn't even realize it.

She was totally oblivious.

That's why Auggie had a theory.

As Auggie, Steve, Lucas, Max, and Dustin hung tight in Mike's disgusting basement (Sam, Nancy, and Robin were off doing who knows what), Auggie stared down Lucas. He examined him thoroughly. Lucas was shifting uncomfortably on the couch, not really knowing what to do about the whole thing.

"So... Lucas, right?" Auggie asked.

Dustin's eyes darted between the two boys, looking nervous for his friend.

Lucas stammered, "Y-Yeah."

"Yeah," nodded Auggie, "I know."

The boy's eyebrows folded. "Then why did you—?"

"It's nice to meet you, Lucas. I'm Auggie," he introduced, and this was the first test.

"Yeah..." Lucas trailed, still confused. "I know. You do AV with Sam."

He was the only one out of her friends who knew that.

Auggie grinned back at him, trying to contain his excitement.

Lucas cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the awkward air. He started, "Although, um, can I ask how you got roped into this specifically?"

Auggie inhaled through his nose, contemplating the answer to that exact question. He really shouldn't have been nosy about Sam's stupid drawing. Technically, Auggie roped himself into this.

If he would've known he'd seen... that... by the end of the day, he wouldn't have gone knocking on Sam's door.

"Your little freaky blonde friend is predicting Veckie's deaths with drawings," Auggie summarized a longer story short.

Lucas's entire face screwed up completely, and he shook his head as if trying to wake up himself up. He looked to Steve and Dustin (Max was elsewhere at Mike's desk), waiting for them to call out Auggie's bullshit, but no one did.

Lucas looked back at Auggie.

"What?"

"I thought you would've known by now," Auggie shrugged, walking over to the D&D table and picking up four pieces of paper. He handed them to Lucas for him to examine.

Auggie was prepared for the face Lucas made, the longer he stared at the drawings. He made the same, disturbed expression everyone did when they examined something Sam had done.

What happened to the nice, sunshine freshman I met on the first day of school? Auggie had asked her.

But she wasn't gone, not completely, she was just...

Different.

Sad.

"Sam did this?" Lucas asked in a tone Auggie couldn't decipher.

When Lucas handed the drawings back to Auggie, unable to look at them any longer, Auggie took them back in his grasp and set them down. He said, "She doesn't remember doing it, but... yeah."

Lucas shared a look with Dustin. He asked, "And what does that mean?"

"We don't know," Dustin answered tentatively. "She doesn't know."

Lucas blinked.

"Well, that's not good."

Auggie scoffed. "No shit," he said, but then, when he realized how negative the air had become, that Sam herself would curse them down for letting it happen. He added, "But, hey, at least she finally broke up with that Zimbabwe kid. Things are looking up for her."

Dustin began choking — yes, actually choking — while Steve paused completely.

"What?!" the two boys chorused.

When Lucas didn't look surprised, Dustin's head whipped over towards Lucas incredulously.

"YOU KNEW?!" he asked.

Lucas tried to curl in on himself a little on the couch, but his head ducked down to hide a pleased grin. He said, "Perhaps."

Dustin stared, looking utterly betrayed.

"What?" Lucas defended himself. "We talked before my game yesterday!"

"I can't believe you knew and you didn't tell me!"

"Well I didn't have the chance to because you didn't go to my game!"

That got Dustin to shut up.

Auggie hissed. "Yikes," he breathed in through his teeth, "tension..."

Lucas and Dustin stared at him, incredulously. Steve nudged his arm, muttered, "Dude."

Auggie winced, trying to read the room. "Sorry," he apologized.

Steve scoffed, shoving a printed-out newspaper clipping in Auggie's chest. "Yeah, you should be sorry." Then he sent all three boys a stern glare. "All of you should be sorry. Quit making me read this stupid article by myself."

Dustin picked up the paper that Nancy and Robin had handed him. He whined, "I've already read it, like, a hundred times, though. I want to talk about Sam's recently open relationship status."

He winked at Lucas non-discreetly.

Lucas huffed, kicking his shin.

Dustin winced.

"I don't care," Steve snapped like a mother, bringing them back on track. "Read it again so we can figure this out."

The newspaper article, in question, wasn't one that was easy to discern. Or, maybe it was, and Auggie was just stupid, but that wasn't the point.

See, last night they didn't have time to actually ask Nancy and Robin what they meant when they said "Vecna's first victims date back all the way to 1959" over the Walkie.

Victor Creel was a normal man with a normal family — two kids and a wife — who had decided to be an equally-as-normal house.

Until that house got possessed with a demon, killed all of Victor's family, and Victor got charged with murder and insanity due to the crazy story he told the cops. No one believed that a demon had done all that damage, and Auggie didn't really blame them. The story sounded crazy.

But Auggie was getting used to crazy.

He stared hard at the tile that read VICTOR CREEL CLAIMS: ANCIENT DEMON KILLED FAMILY (The Murder That Shocked A Small Community), trying to make sense of it all.

"Okay, sorry Harrington," Auggie broke the silence Steve created, "but I don't understand any of this."

Steve groaned, stopping his pacing. "No, I agree, Sm — Auggie."

He was going to call him Smiths again.

Stupid Sam having to ruin everything.

(He didn't mean that.)

"I don't understand, either," Lucas shook his head desperately.

Dustin shrugged. "It's pretty straightforward," he claimed.

Steve tilted his head at Dustin with an annoying look. He sassed, "Oh, straightforward, really?"

"Well, what's confusing you?" asked Dustin, like the task was deciphering 2 + 2. "So far, everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He's the only known survivor. If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it's him."

Auggie raised a brow. "That's assuming he was cursed, which we don't even know." He sighed heavily, staring down at the newspaper article. Auggie commented, "This shit's like The Amityville Horror."

"Do you have a movie reference for everything?" Steve asked.

"Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh-nyeh-nyeh," Auggie mocked childishly.

When Auggie had leaned into the side of Steve's arm, Steve rolled his eyes half-heartedly and nudged the boy away.

He rubbed his temple with his hand, asked, "How can Vecna have existed in the '50s? It doesn't make sense."

"As far as we know," Dustin said, "Eleven didn't create the Upside Down. She opened a Gate to it. The Upside Down has probably been around for thousands of years. Millions, even. I wouldn't be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs!"

"Dinosaurs?" Steve questioned, sharing a look with Auggie. "What are we—"

"Okay, okay," Lucas signified he understood what Dustin was trying to get at. Although, "But if a Gate didn't exist in the '50s, how did Vecna get through?"

"Oh! And how's he getting through now?" Auggie asked.

"And why now?" added Steve.

"And why then?"

"Yeah," Steve scoffed, "he just pops out in the '50s, kills one family, and he's like 'pfft, I'm good!' And poof, he just disappeared. Just... gone? Only to return thirty years later and start killing random teens? No, I don't buy it." He exhaled, trying to make sense of the newspaper again. "'Straightforward,' my ass. You know, honestly, Henderson, a little humility now and then? It wouldn't hurt you."

Dustin muttered, "Sorry," before he glanced down and then back up at Auggie. "You're my new favorite dad—"

"We're not your dads!" Auggie and Steve chorused in unison.

Lucas blinked.

"I'm confused."

Dustin snorted, trying to hide a smug look.

Steve pointed at him with a stern finger, another on his hip. "Quit it with the smug attitude, okay? We are not your dads," he hissed, before plopping down in a rocking chair and dramatically crossing one leg over another. He sent Dustin a challenging look before he folded out the newspaper to read it more thoroughly. Auggie tsked, still standing with crossed arms as he shook his head.

Lucas leaned closer to Dustin, whispered, "I totally see it now."

"Right?" Dustin whispered right back. "Sam pointed it out. Once you see it, you can't unsee it."

Lucas nodded, retracting away from Dustin. Slowly, Dustin's head moved an inch past Steve's massive head of hair, and a blue jacket caught his vision. Over at Mike's desk, Max was hunched over the furniture. It looked like she was writing furiously.

Dustin and Lucas shared looks before they placed their eyes back on Max.

Max, who was supposed to die today.

"Any ideas what she's writing?" Dustin asked.

Lucas shrugged, and Dustin's question caught the attention of the dads. They, too, glanced behind them to analyze Max's figure.

"Did she sleep?" Dustin questioned again.

"I mean," Lucas glanced from Dustin to Max, "would you?"

Auggie definitely would not.

But before anyone could answer verbally, the door leading into the basement abruptly opened from above. The four boys heard descending footsteps that sounded louder the closer they got.

Sam, Nancy, and Robin came down in a rush, yet seemingly proud. Robin waved around three, brown files with an eager grin on her face. Nancy raised her chin as she reached the final step.

"Okay so," she started, and she shared a look with Sam and Robin before smiling and continued, "we have a plan."

The three girls handed the four boys the files for them to look through what their plan really ways. Auggie peered over Steve's shoulder to observe the one he was holding.

"Thanks to Goldie working together with Nancy's newspaper minions we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame," Robin explained, moving with Sam and Nancy so they could sit down on stools and recliners.

Auggie raised an unamused eyebrow, nodding toward Sam. "Even Carrie over here?"

Sam sent him a proud look. "I'm a seventeen-year-old genius prodigy."

"You don't even pass for sixteen."

"Hush, Santos."

Nancy informed, "I'm now Ruth."

"I'm now Rose," said Robin.

"And I'm Anne," Sam finished.

Steve sent Nancy a humored look. "Ruth?" he asked.

Nancy shrugged at him with a mischievous smile.

Dustin, examining Anne's file, look over it to send Sam a wide-eyed glance. "Nice GPA," he complimented.

"Thanks," muttered Sam quietly.

Nancy explained, "So we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we'd like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we're co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics—"

"To which they said no," Robin frowned.

"But," added Nancy, "we landed a three o'clock with the director."

"Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor," Robin said.

"If not, we've got Sam's powers."

Sam continued confidently, "And then we're going to figure out how to rid Max of this curse." Her eyes glanced to the side, softening up when she caught sight of Max, who was still writing at Mike's desk and had been all night.

"About that," Steve started, closing up Ruth's file as he uncrossed his leg. "We've been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh..." he sighed, "we got some questions."

"Lots of questions," Lucas nodded at Sam. She noticed how his eyes darted to her drawings. Sam looked away.

"So do we," said Nancy. "Hopefully Victor has the answers."

Steve's face fell, hearing the way her voice had begun signing off. He hoped to everything above this was not what Nancy was insinuating.

"Wait — Wait — Wait a second. Uh..." he laughed a little nervously. "Where's mine?"

Sam stared back at him, apologetically.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Samantha Hughes was not a person quick to anger.

It wasn't hard to annoy her, countless arguments over nothing with Corey lining up to prove it. But she was rarely angry at them.

The only person she was ever really angry at was herself.

It was easy to be angry at Sam, she'd realized at a very young age.

She'd seen it in Uncle Dan at all times, she'd seen it in Corey when he used to hate Sam. She saw it, quite a bit, throughout her freshman year from the very people she was surrounding herself with right now.

"Sam, I kind of hate the idea of you just — going off with them right now," Dustin muttered, eyes darting to Sam and from Max anxiously. Nancy, Auggie, Robin, and Steve were all in Nancy's room, presumably bickering for the exact same reason the trio down here was.

Sam, he called her. Sam, he said now, when he once told Sam You'll always be Specks to me.

She closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

"Well, that's unfortunate to know," Sam told him. Then she glanced at Lucas. "Lucas, I need you to promise me something before I leave, okay?"

Lucas tilted his head warily. "I don't know, Sam. I sort-of agree with Dustin right now."

Was anyone on her side anymore?

Sam brushed past it, shaking her head. "I don't c — Lucas, just — Please, all right?"

Lucas's expression crumbled at the pleading note to Sam's voice. He frowned, and she hadn't sounded so serious like this in so long. Not even when they talked in the bleachers.

"What is it?" he asked, because he couldn't help himself.

Sam grabbed Lucas's forearm, and she pulled them closer together so she could speak lowly. She sent a glance Max's way, up and down, before she looked back at him.

"Keep her safe okay?" Sam begged. She didn't know what else to do anymore. "I wouldn't — I wouldn't be going with Nancy and Robin if I didn't feel like I had to. I just... Keep her alive for when I get back, all right? Please?"

I need her to stay alive. That would be enough.

Lucas blinked rapidly, still trying to process the fact that Sam was so close. He stammered, and Dustin was staring at him incredulously, but neither of them were focused on him right now.

"I —" his brows drew sadly. "Sam..."

Sam shook her head stubbornly. "Don't look at me like that," she said, leaning away from him. "Don't — I can handle myself. I know I can."

Starcourt flashed in their minds. They knew Sam could handle herself, but they also knew she never would if it meant that her friends would be okay. She'd locked herself out with Billy; she'd put herself in front of the Mind Flayer — she'd tried to die just to save El, and none of them ever spoke about that.

From upstairs, they heard Robin call, "Come on, Barbie, time for dress-up!"

Sam sighed upon being addressed. She realized she'd been looking at Lucas for too long, so she gazed at both him and Dustin to convey her message. She mumbled, "Protect Max. Just until I'm back."

Then she turned on her heel and started up the wooden, basement stairs.

Sam told both Karen and Holly a good morning as she passed through the first floor, while she just merely grunted at Ted. She quickly took the second flight of stairs to go upstairs where Nancy's room resided.

Sam had only been in Nancy's room once, but Nancy wasn't even aware that happened — she was with El, stealing Nancy's makeup so they could smuggle her into the middle school.

Now they were trying to smuggle themselves into an insane asylum.

When Sam passed up the hallway that led to Mike's room, she waltzed over to Nancy's and found that the door was already open. Although they'd asked for her presence, although they were insinuating Sam just waltz in, it felt rude not to knock.

She stood in the doorway and knocked on the doorframe in a knock, knock, knock, knock, knock — knock, knock!

Auggie, Robin, Steve, and Nancy turned, staring at Sam incredulously.

"Sam, just walk in," Auggie sighed.

Sam looked at him, absolutely scandalized. "Unlike all of you people I don't invade privacy without knocking." She only leaned her head in a little to look at Nancy near her closet. Passive aggressively, she asked, "May I come in?"

Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose, hiding an amusedly fond face. She exhaled, "Yeah, Sam, you may come in."

Sam brightened up, taking her shoes off before she stepped into Nancy's carpeted bedroom with a pep in her step. Everyone was giving her that look she was accustomed to that told Sam she was some sort of odditiy.

Steve gestured towards her incredulously, "You're seriously letting her go and not me? She's, like, ten!"

"I am fifteen and three months!" Sam protested.

Nancy let out a tired breath, because Sam was not dodging the "too young" allegations right now. To Steve, she explained, "I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association, and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay? This is a lifelong student of the world, and if we want to win him over, we're gonna have to convince him we are, too."

Nancy proceeded to gesture at Sam, as if her presence would help win him over.

Auggie also gestured at Sam. But he said, "Look at her. Look at what she's wearing. Does this give 'distinguished fellow' to you?"

Sam gaped obliviously, staring down at her new outfit. It was an old, black t-shirt of The Clash. Over the top, she wore a green, cloth, loose button up with the sleeves rolled up halfway. The pants were a grayish-green and they were baggy, the cuffs falling over her Dr. Martens. Sam was aware she dressed a little differently now, but she didn't think it was bad.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Robin frowned at Sam, also oblivious. "I like her outfit."

"Of course you do," Steve muttered.

Nancy smiled sympathetically at both of them. She dissuaded, "There's nothing wrong with your outfit, Sam... Actually, I wanted you to come because I know you're the closest we've got to relating to Dr. Hatch — we're trying to convince him that we, like him, are true academic scholars." Nancy stuffed her head in her closet, searching through her clothes.

"'Academic scholars?'" Steve questioned. He nodded towards Robin, playing with Nancy's old ballerina box in awe with Auggie. "She's giving you an academic scholar vibe?"

Robin shot him a glare, closing the ballerina box.

"No," Nancy admitted, pulling a frilly, pink shirt out of her closet with one hand, and a tweed jacket in the other. "But she will."

She shoved the tweed jacket into Sam's grasp while Robin (thank god) was given the pink shirt.

"They both will."

Robin held up the flamboyant shirt, examining it. Auggie snorted, trying to cover it up with a cough. She groaned, "Oh, please tell me you're joking."

Nancy wasn't. She really wasn't.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Underneath Sam's brown, tweed jacket was a fancy, beige, button-up dress shirt. It had a pristinely ironed collar, and over it, Nancy tied a deep purple scarf into the shape of a bow over her collarbone. The two buttons of the tweed jacket were buttoned over her stomach to make the whole top look neater. Nancy had a tweed skirt that paired up with the jacket, which Sam wore as her bottoms — it was the shortest skirt out of the trio, but it still went all the way down to the top of her knees. Her heels and purse (unfortunately, she had to ditch her dingy, messenger bag) matched the deep purple of the bow scarf around her neck. Half of Sam's hair was pulled back, while the rest of it remained down, falling past the underneath of her arms. Nancy advised Sam to keep her glasses on, not even bothering to wear the spare contacts she kept at Mike's house.

Sam, out of all three of them, had to look absolutely academic. Nothing about her outfit or demeanor could be out of place. She was a fifteen-year-old bargaining for seventeen, and even sixteen would be a stretch (she'll admit Auggie was right about that).

Pulling up to Pennhurst immediately made a chill run down Sam's spine. She peered out the window from the backseat — it was all gut-constrictingly eerie. The place was huge, with an old Victorian feel to it.

"Woah," Sam muttered. "It's like a prison and a castle had a baby."

The entire lot was huge, bigger than Sam had ever seen, and she didn't even know a building could be this big. She wondered, heart breaking a little, how many people they'd locked up here?

Nancy drove slowly down the long, dwindling road until she found a nice curb to park against (not before running into it and having to reverse out of it first). The three girls filed out of the car, realizing this was it. They didn't get a test run at this. They had to convince Dr. Hatch they were eligible to see Victor Creel.

Or else Max could die.

They all walked towards the front of the facility, heels clicking against the black pavement. Sam, surprisingly, had no issue walking in her heels. She strutted with her shoulders back, trying her best to play the part of young scholar. She couldn't afford risking something that could jeopardize Max's fate.

Robin, however, couldn't say the same.

She was grunting and stumbling in the heels as they started toward the asylum. Sam and Nancy were trying to put on an easygoing front, but Robin did not care about niceties.

"I can't breathe in this thing," Robin strained, tugging at her pink collar, "and I'm itchy, I'm itching all over."

"It's not all about comfort," Nancy hissed at her, trying not to bring attention to Robin's disgruntled state. "We're academics."

Robin snapped, "Who are evidently coming straight from Easter brunch, while the child prodigy over there's about to teach a college lecture on feminist literature!"

Sam snorted, but Nancy was not as humored.

"Also," Robin continued, "this bra that you gave me is really pinching my boobs."

"This bra makes it look like I have boobs," Sam cheered happily. "Thanks, Nancy."

Nancy groaned. "Okay, could you two just... let me do the talking? If that's even possible?"

"It's not only possible, it's inevitable," Robin threw her arms up. "Because shortly, I'll be dead from strangulation."

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

The trio of girls sat nervously in the chairs of Dr. Hatch's office, though they tried to hide it. Luckily, right now Dr. Hatch couldn't see if they were freaking out, because he was too busy examining their totally real files.

"3.9 GPAs," the balding man read, before he nodded towards Sam with an impressed face. "And a 4.8?"

Sam nodded with a forced smile. "Yes, sir."

"I must admit," he examined, "I've never seen a child prodigy look so young. Seventeen, did you say you were?"

She forced herself not to stiffen as she lied, "Yes, sir."

"Impressive," Dr. Hatch commented, before he closed the files and set them down on his desk.

Nancy nodded gratefully, before she held up a separate sheet. "And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantly," she handed him the forged paper.

Dr. Hatch grabbed the recommendation with a smile, inspecting it. "Ah, yeah, I know Larry. Quite well, actually."

Uh oh.

"Eh, you know what they say," Dr. Hatch handed the sheet back, luckily not suspicious of them. "'Those who can't do, teach.'"

As he took off his glasses, he chuckled at his own joke, so the girls began forcing themselves to laugh with him. Like oh, let's laugh about this inside joke we're definitely in on because we're definitely not pretending to be Harvard attendees!

"Uh..." Nancy started, being struck with something to say, "yes! Yes, that's actually why we're here!"

She sent Sam and Robin pointed stares, causing the girls to agree immediately and start nodding.

"I mean, we can only learn so much in a classroom," Nancy continued.

Dr. Hatch hummed, nodding, but there was an unreadable expression on his features.

Come on, Mr. Egg, take the bait. Please. Just take the bait.

"And I'm sympathetic to your struggle, truly," said Dr. Hatch. "But there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor. You have to put it in a request" — they didn't know that — "and then undergo a screening process" — or that — "at which point the board will make a decision" — or that.

Dr. Hatch slid their files back to them, privy to their incredulous expressions.

Sam wanted to scream — she wanted to burn this stupid asylum to the ground. She wanted to be with Max. She shouldn't have come to this stupid place with no hope, and she should've spent Max's last moments with her.

"I can see you're disappointed."

Sam scoffed, and Nancy tried shooting her a glare to tell her to shut up.

Dr. Hatch inhaled a solemn breath. "But I'm more than happy to give you a tour of our facility. Perhaps you can even speak to some patients in our low-security wing."

"And we..." Nancy glanced to Sam and Robin nervously before facing Dr. Hatch again, "we would love that. It's just that, um... our thesis is due next month—"

"Then you're out of time," Dr. Hatch stated, no longer providing them sympathy. Sam and Robin glared at him while Nancy swallowed. "Whose fault is that?"

Nancy scrambled to say, "Ours. Absolutely. And I do apologize—"

"Don't apologize, Ruth. Screw that," Sam cut in and Nancy sent her a What the hell are you doing? look. She narrowed her eyes on Dr. Hatch, said, "The fact of the matter is, we did put in a request months ago and were denied. And then we reapplied and were denied again. And coming here was our last-ditch effort to save our thesis, so we will not apologize for wanting to save the thesis! I am tired of being overlooked because of my young age when I'm just as capable as the rest of you! Even if I'm a woman, even if I'm seventeen!"

"I agree completely, Anne," Robin strained out, and now they both were ignoring Nancy's frantic glares. She slammed her hands on the chair and rose to stand up. "I'm starting to think this whole thing is a colossal mistake. I can't breathe in this thing, and I'm breaking out in a rash—"

"Uh, well, Rose, maybe you and Anne would like to go outside and get some air," Nancy snapped through gritted teeth.

Robin exclaimed, "Maybe we should, Ruth! Because my boobs hurt, and I'll tell you the truth, Anthony — May I call you Anthony? — These aren't actually my clothes. I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously, because nobody takes girls seriously in this field. They just don't. We don't look the part, or whatever," ranted Robin, gesturing between herself and Sam (who wore the most awe-struck look on her face, contradicting Nancy's incredulous glare). She asked, "But can I tell you a story? 1978, I was at summer camp. My counselor Drew told me and everyone in Cabin C the true story of the Victor Creel Massacre. And little Petey McHew — You know Petey, right, Ruth?"

"Uh," Nancy startled, trying to play along, "O-Of course!"

"Yeah," nodded Robin before turning back to Dr. Hatch. "Little Petey McHew started sobbing right there on the spot — full on hyperventilating — and all the other campers, they couldn't sleep for weeks. And I couldn't sleep either, but not 'cause I was scared, because I was obsessed with the question: 'What would drive a human being to commit such unimaginable acts?' Other kids wanted to be astronauts, basketball players, rock stars — but I wanted to be you! I wanted to be you! So forgive me if I'll now try anything in my power, including wearing this ridiculous outfit, if I might get the chance to speak to the man that ignited my passion and learn a little more about how his twisted, but — let's face it — totally fascinating mind works! So, yes, we don't have the official paperwork, but don't tell me that cry-baby Petey McHew wouldn't have gotten an audience with Victor in a matter of moments if he's asked politely, because you and I both know that he would."

Sam looked to Robin, impressed; Nancy looked to Robin, shocked; Dr. Hatch looked to Robin, an unreadable expression.

"So," Robin took a breath, "ten minutes with Victor. That's all I ask."

Dr. Hatch stared at her, longer.

Then he asked them to get up and follow him.

The three girls followed Dr. Hatch out of his office, telling his secretary that he would be taking a thirty-minute absence.

Unbeknownst to him, Sam and Nancy held out their hands, low. Robin, in the middle of them, gave the two discreet high-fives.

They were going to see Victor.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

On top of also allowing the trio to meet with Victor, Dr. Hatch elected on giving them a tour as they took the route to the closed ward. Now, the girls wore VISITOR nametags with their fake names sprawled on the line underneath. Sam's, of course, read Anne in her own handwriting.

They were out of the main office now, walking down the long pavement outside. There was grass for miles and instituted patients in blankly-colored garments.

"These are our gardens," Dr. Hatch previewed, the three girls trailing behind. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

A zany-looking man sent Sam a creepy stare that had her gulping.

"Very," she choked out.

Dr. Hatch smiled, impressed with himself. "We allow them two hours of outside time a day."

"Can't they just escape?" Robin asked, voicing what Sam had been thinking. Sam, personally, would try and escape if she was stuck here.

"They could," Dr. Hatch noted. "But the vast majority choose to be here. They like it here."

Sam side-eyed Robin, but none of the three elected on saying anything.

Dr. Hatch took them through the gardens, which Sam had been eager to pass when a woman asked Sam if she would like to join her religion — the belief that flowers were their God. Sam, Robin, Nancy, and Dr. Hatch tried minding their business as their footsteps clicked down the concrete.

They reached the next building that, presumably, led to the closed ward. Sam walked through the lobby and into a room with pale, teal walls. It looked as if it used to be a classroom — there was even a chalkboard at the head of the room.

"This is one of our more popular areas," Dr. Hatch introduced, whispering. "The listening room."

The listening room? Sam's eyebrows pulled together. She looked around the room, finding record players and headphones scattered all around. There was light, classical music playing.

"We found that music has a particularly calming effect on the broken mind," said Dr. Hatch as they walked through the room. Nancy and Robin followed him without much care, but Sam lingered; she took a look around, soaking in his words and her surroundings.

The instrumental music she heard was from a patient playing the piano. There were patients sitting in chairs and standing around, all of them listening to vinyls through their headphones or even aloud. Some patients were even just listening to the man play the piano.

Dr. Hatch explained, "The right song — particularly one which holds some personal meaning — can prove a salient stimulus." They continued through the room, eyeing those listening to stereos as doctors examined them above. "But there are those who are... without a cure."

He started heading towards the exit of the room, leading Sam, Robin, and Nancy to share wary eyes.

The door Dr. Hatch led them through brought the group to a stairwell. The door slam echoed around the walls as they began down it. Sam gripped the banister of the stairs, trying not to trip down it due to her heels. There was a sign, on one of the stairwell walls, that caught Sam's attention.

CRIMINAL WARD
PRIOR AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED
NO SHARP OBJECTS ALLOWED

"Dr. Hatch?" Nancy's voice spoke up for the first time in a bit. "Do you think it might be possible for us to speak to Victor alone?"

They all reached the bottom floor of the stairwell, where a large guard was about to unlock a large, metal door to let them in. Both the guard and Dr. Hatch paused, turning around to eye the trio with certain looks.

"Alone?"

Sam forced herself to come up with, "I think that we would just love the challenge of speaking with Victor without the safety net of an expert such as yourself."

Robin nodded, a little franticly. "E-Exactly. Then we could really rub it in Professor Bradley's face when we get back to ca—"

"Professor Bradley?" Dr. Hatch questioned. "I don't believe I know a Professor Bradley."

Shit, Robin.

"Brantly!" Nancy corrected hastily. "She... She meant to say Brantley."

Robin forced a startled laugh, like she'd just made a goofy mistake. "Didn't I say Brantley? What did I say?" she grinned, chuckling falsely with Sam and Nancy. "Sorry, silly me. Words, letters... heh. Guess I'm just nervous — I mean, excited! So excited to speak with Victor. Preferably, as they said, alone?"

Dr. Hatch was staring them down now, and it was a different kind of analyzing look they hadn't seen before. Sam forced herself not to show any signs of falter. He was on to them, she knew. He was on to them now, so Sam had to put on her best act. Robin and Nancy were doing the same, standing straight with polite smiles sent Dr. Hatch's way in an attempt to seem innocent.

He was on to them, He was on to them, He was on to them—

"Yes," Dr. Hatch spoke evenly, grinning a little. "Why not? You've caught me in a rebellious mood."

Sam, Robin, and Nancy laughed with him, but all of it felt so, uncomfortably forced. Even Dr. Hatch's joke.

"And there's something rather urgent I need to check on anyway, so..." Dr. Hatch eyed his watch, then craned his head back up to the girls. "Sure."

There was no way he wasn't on to them.

Dr. Hatch side-eyed the guard outside the door. He ordered, "Keep a close eye on them."

Then, he kept his stern eye on the girls as he walked around them and started back up the stairs.

Sam blurted, "Thank you so much, Dr. Hatch." Robin and Nancy broke out into thanks of their own as Sam did so, but Dr. Hatch said nothing as he hastily treaded up the stairs.

The trio shared looks of unease, but they didn't have time to dwell on what just happened as the guard finally unlocked and opened the door. The metal door ground open, revealing a second door made purely of iron bars. The guard fumbled to another key on his key ring and slid open the gate, too.

Patients — criminals — clamored in the distant, dim hallway that stretched before them. The walls were of blank cobblestone, and there was nothing but cells down in the ward. Cells, locked in with the same iron bars that locked the girls out. It was cold, and it was dark, and — at the very least — there were chairs on the outside of the cells for potential visitors wanting to meet with the people inside.

"Do not startle him," said the guard.

They started walking down the hallway, the large man leading them down the hallway.

"Do not touch him."

Sam looked to her left, catching the eye of a particular convict muttering to himself and pacing.

"Do not pass him anything."

Robin crossed her arms around herself, whether it be from unease or the cold.

"Stand five feet away from the bars at all times."

A patient glared in fear at the girls as they passed his cell, telling them to get away out of paranoia.

"Is that clear?"

The guard pulled out his baton from his back pocket, slowing his pace when they reached the cell at the very end of the hall.

"Yes, sir," Sam, Robin, and Nancy muttered, not able to hide the fact they were thoroughly put off right now.

He took his baton and started sliding it across the iron bars of a particular cell. It made a clanging cell reverberate down the entire ward. "Victor!" the guard crooned in a condescending manner.

The trio of girls finally made it in front of the cell Victor resided in, staying five feet away like the guard advised. Sam felt her heart beating faster when she registered his back facing them. There he was. Just a mere five feet away.

"Today's your lucky day!" the guard jeered, leaning against his cell with one leg crossed over the other. "You got visitors." He eyed the girls up and down. "Real pretty ones."

Robin and Nancy, who were on either side of Sam, nudged Sam a little bit behind them out of discomfort.

Then, startling Sam, they heard a strained type of scratching from the cell. Sam looked back over at Victor to see he was scratching at the metal table before him with his bare fingernails. It made Sam cringe at the sound, shuddering uncomfortably.

"Must be in one of his moods," the guard shrugged, not caring about Victor or any type of trouble he may seem to feel.

It made Sam feel horrible, but she had to remind herself he was under the impression that Victor murdered his entire family. So.

"Have fun," he finished, right before he was walking back down the hallway and leaving the ward entirely.

As the guard's footsteps grew lighter, Sam could hear as Victor continued scratching at the table. He still sat before it with his back turned to them. From over at the back of his cell, Victor let out quiet, guttural growls and snarls.

"Victor?" Nancy started tentatively, and Victor scratched hard on the table. "My name is Nancy. Nancy Wheeler." She glanced at the girls to the right of her, said, "And this is..."

"Sam Hughes."

"And Robin Buckley," she squeaked. "Um, we have some questions—"

"I don't talk to reporters," Victor growled, head facing the back wall. "Hatch knows that."

Sam shook her head, stepping closer to Victor's cell and instantly disregarding the five feet rule. "We're not reporters," she said in a kind tone, and the other girls stepped up so that Sam was in the middle of the trio again; although, this time, Sam was a little closer to Victor than the other two, making a triangle if you squinted. "We're here because... we believe you."

Victor continued scratching, and Sam swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"And because," she continued, "we need your help."

Robin started, "Whatever killed your family..."

"We think it's back," Nancy finished.

Victor scraped sharply on his table, but he did so for the final time. From the metal chair that matched his metal table, he began to turn away from it.

The single, dull light illuminated Victor's face as he showed himself to the girls. Everything about him was completely normal; he wore a cardigan and everything.

Everything, except for the fact his eyes were missing. Missing and replaced by deep, scratch-like scars.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

first part of episode 4 D:

OK LOOK I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING...

i'm sorry sam isn't with max and them right now and i PROMISEE that sam HAS to be with nancy and robin right now. i can't explain it but just know that everything happens for a reason and sam needed to be put here. it broke my heart a little to separate her from max but (again) i had to

sam telling max she's refusing to let her die?? okay i am very normal about this...

lucas immediately looking at sam when dustin said something worse was going on LMAO they're all just expecting the worst to come to her

auggie's perspective on lucas because it came purely from what sam has been saying about him... maybe sam's not just oblivious about lucas's feelings to her... he has a theory...

sam going from her custody with her dads (steve and auggie) to custody with her mothers (nancy and robin). love to see it.

and sam's going to pennhurst!!

time to chat w mr. creel >:D

also - this is sam's fit that auggie was trashing before nancy dressed her in the feminist literature clothes LOL

i don't have a picture for the pennhurst outfit cus i made it up from my mind. so. just know robin was very correct in her descriptions

more tweets to end the chapter!

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what'd you think?