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˚⋆ ┊  ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING  ┊ ⋆˚
☆⋅⋆ ─ act i. don't you want me, baby?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — the superhero
( episode eight ; the mind flayer )

- warnings: descriptions of
violence/blood/gore/death

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⠀ ⠀ THE WALK TOWARDS THE LAB WAS TEDIOUS AND SLOW. Not to mention downright terrifying. Gravel crunched beneath her boots as she and Jonathan crept toward the looming silhouette of the abandoned laboratory, its outline jagged against the moonlit sky. It seemed like a good idea at first to come to the rescue, rather than sit on her ass and wait for the gates to open. But the longer they walked in silence, the longer Peyton had to dwell on the fact that this may very well be the worst idea she's ever had. That it might be a suicide mission. That their families might already even be dead, and they could be next. Worse, she was afraid she didn't have much fight left in her. Not with the throbbing pain in her leg growing worse with every step.

"What was that about?" Jonathan's silence-breaking question threw her off for a moment, having grown accustomed to the escalating sound of her heart thumping in her ears. She didn't quite know what he meant at first. Which out of sorts moment between her and Steve he'd picked up on to interrogate her about. She could only hope he wasn't referring to Steve.

"What?"

"Dustin..." he trailed off to quote the younger teen, "' I think they're getting along just fine,'" But of course, he was referring to Steve. All Peyton could bring herself to do was roll her eyes, "I thought you hated Steve?"

"I do!" insisted Peyton, in an all too high-pitched voice for someone supposedly telling the truth. Quick to notice her mistake upon seeing Jonathan's disbelieving expression, she cleared her throat and added, "I... did," her voice lower now, a little nervous, a little more truthful.

Because she did hate him.

Once upon a time, when King Steve sat upon his metaphorical throne, sauntering around Hawkins High like his shit didn't stink. Then one day, much to her dismay, he decided to grow a backbone. Stand up to his god-awful friends. Drop the asshole act and become a somewhat tolerable person. She hadn't actually let herself admit how much she didn't hate him anymore. That was, until he decided to make things even more impossibly confusing and kiss her in the middle of the woods. And she could blame it on adrenaline all she wanted, but Steve was right. She could have stopped him. Pushed him away. Punched him in the face. She could have also not kissed him the second time. And she sure as hell didn't need to move his hand any further down than the small of her back. Of course, she was going to continue insisting it meant nothing. They talked it out; they were apparently 'friends' now. Steve even agreed with her (at least she hoped he did). Safe to say, Peyton was ready to put Steve Harrington, and all the ridiculous teen drama he'd bring with him, far behind her. She had no desire to talk about it ever again. Least of all with her would-be step-brother. Clearing her throat, Peyton lowered her voice in a clumsy attempt at nonchalance, "It's complicated..." was what she finally settled on, earning a confused nod from the Byers boy as he buried his hands in his pockets.

But his interrogation was, evidently, far from over.

"Did you kiss him?" he asked suddenly; Peyton's eyes widened with genuine horror. How he could have possibly come to that conclusion by hearing only a few taunting words from a thirteen-year-old was beyond her. Regardless of whether he was entirely right. She froze where she stood, Jonathan only taking one step ahead before realising he'd started to leave her behind.

"What? No!" and there it was again, that high-pitched panic that betrayed her once perfect poker face, "N-No..." she insisted, anger bubbling at the unconvinced expression that sat on her step-brother's face, "No! No I..." her words fell short, a sigh escaping her lips as she gave up her protests. Lips twisting into a grimace, Peyton folded her arms tightly across her chest before tossing the question right back at him, "What about you and Nancy?" Jonathan's smile dropped quickly at her accusation, "Don't pin this all on me, okay? If I'm the other woman, you are too!" in such a state of panic, Peyton recognised her mistake the second it left her lips, and Jonathan's defensiveness turned to amusement, "You know what I mean..." but the Byers boy only tilted his head, agitating his step-sister so much that she continued her way down the path, "Shut up!"

Giving her little time to outwalk him, Jonathan soon began down the path, only a few paces behind. Jonathan nervously scratched behind his ear, "Nancy and I aren't-"

"Oh, don't lie to me, you totally kissed her," Peyton all too confidently interrupted. Jonathan averted his gaze guiltily, though a slight smirk played on his lips. Scanning his features for a short moment, it didn't take long for Peyton to realise what he was so happy about. He'd been pining after Nancy for over a year. Something had happened. And the smug look on his face gave him away, "Oh my god,"

"What?" questioned Jonathan, acting clueless as Peyton once again stopped their cautious walk toward the lab to grab him by the shoulders.

"Oh my god!" she laughed, brows knitted in shock, "You slept together!"

Jonathan shook his head, nervous now. He wasn't the only one that could read the other with practiced precision, "N... no..." he denied.

"Oh my god!" she laughed again, rather ecstatic about what she'd learned, "I don't feel so bad about kissing her boyfriend now,"

"I knew it!"

"Oh, shut up, we both knew it," she smirked, shoving his shoulder lightly. Then, noticing the way he was looking at her, somewhere between amused and thoughtful, she narrowed her eyes, "What?"

"It's... it's just funny, y'know?" pondered Jonathan, burying his hands in his pockets with a shrug, "A girl like her, and a guy like him..."

"With a guy like you and a girl like me?" Peyton finished his thought in a jokingly dreamy tone. It was cheesy and stupid, but ironically true. There was something hilarious about it. Perfect princess Wheeler with some scrawny kid from the shitty side of Hawkins. And the (although now dethroned) 'King' of Hawkins High, Mr. trust fund himself, now seemingly infatuated with the daughter of an infamous, trailer trash slut (an insult many had so graciously gifted Peyton like a family heirloom).

Jonathan knew she wasn't making fun of him, that her mocking tone was anything but malicious, "Yeah..."

"It's like," continued Peyton, "Hey, monsters exist, why not let the nerd get the girl?" Jonathan's brow furrowed at her phrasing. Yes, the safe thing would be to assume that she was talking about him and Nancy, and him and Nancy alone. But there was no denying the underlying 'Steve' of it all.

"You know you just called yourself a nerd, right?" he teased.

Peyton scoffed, face twisted into a grimace, "Oh, I wasn't talking about me," insisted the stubborn blonde, trying her best to seem visibly disgusted with the idea of wanting Steve, "Trust me, Steve 'the hair' Harrington is not a guy I wanna get."

Jonathan seemed less than convinced. But before he had the chance to tease her any further, the two arrived at the main entrance to the lab. Sometime during their walk to the lab, someone, or something, had switched the power back on. This, however, did nothing to settle their fear, the flickering lights casting fragmented shadows across the foyer. Peyton took a deep breath, trying not to let the silence settle in too long, "Well..." she trailed off, voice dry with sarcasm and false confidence, "that's not horrifying,"

But Jonathan was quick to call her bluff.

"It's not too late, you know," he cautioned.

Peyton frowned as she turned to look at him. She knew exactly what he meant. It wasn't too late to turn back. To abandon their rescue mission and wait, hope, pray that their family made it out of the lab alive.

She didn't reply with words. Because, of course, she knew that they could turn back. She also knew there was no way she was about to sit on her ass and wait around while their families could need their help.

So she just kept going.

Palm meeting the cool glass, Peyton slowly pushed the door open, just enough for her to go through. Once Jonathan had passed through, she let it close slowly, making sure not to release her hand until it was fully closed.

Don't make a sound...

Cautiously, the pair crept through the halls. They knew better than to call out for anyone. That making any noise would undoubtedly send something far more sinister than their parents toward them. Peyton moved in front, limping as quietly as she could, knuckles white from her iron grip on the crowbar. Jonathan followed closely behind, cursing himself for not insisting Steve give up his nail-studded bat.

That's when they heard it.

Somewhere behind them, a low, wet, guttural snarl. Even worse, when they turned, all they saw was its silhouette flickering against the tiled walls. In a panic, they made a run for it. Rounding one corner, then another, the lab was a maze of blinking lights and broken glass. Jonathan easily overtook the blonde, what with the advantage of two fully functioning legs. But no sooner had he found himself a few paces ahead than he skidded to an abrupt stop, arms extended to stop Peyton speeding ahead, both teens freezing in place.

She glanced at Jonathan in confusion at first, hoping to get an answer as to why they were no longer running for their lives. But his eyes were trained to something else. Stuck, horrified at the scene before him. When Peyton, slowly, followed his gaze, eyes wide in the stuttering fluorescent light, her stomach dropped.

In the middle of the hallway, two demodogs were hunched over sprawled bodies, scientists in blood-stained lab coats, now torn to shreds. Limbs bent at impossible angles, guts splayed across the crimson-stained tiles. One of the beasts dragged a headless torso across the floor with its talons, gnawing at it with its layers and layers of teeth.

It was like a scene from a horror movie.

The young blonde's mind couldn't comprehend that the sight before her was even real. But she couldn't stay paralysed in fear much longer. Not unless she wanted to be next.

Carefully, Peyton's hand reached out, grasping for Jonathan's wrist. His mouth hung open slightly, horrified. Running would be too clumsy, too loud, too suicidal. So the pair backed away, cautiously, steady precision in each tread.

One step.

Then another.

Neither of them dared to tear their eyes from the beasts.

Neither of them dared to even breathe.

Peyton tried her best to mimic Jonathan's swift movements, heart pounding in her chest, leg throbbing with every step; an unwelcome reminder of the deteriorating state of her tourniquet. The way the denim had fused to her skin, scraping against the deep, painful bite that her ever-weakening adrenaline had unsettled.

One step.

Then another.

She lifted her boot again, holding her breath.

Lowered it slowly to the ground.

One step.

Then-

Crunch.

Silence fell upon the hallway.

The absence of sound, a reality far more sinister than the devouring of human bones that once echoed the hall.

Shaking, tearful, Peyton's head tilted down. Beneath her bloodied combat boot was a thick scatter of broken glass. She had made the noise. She had revealed their presence.

And, in tandem, both creatures lifted their heads.

Rows of glistening teeth unfurling from petal-shaped jaws slick with blood.

No face.

No eyes.

And still, somehow, they looked at the terrified teens. And let out an awful, high-pitched screech that clawed straight down their spines.

Without saying a word, Jonathan grabbed her hand and pulled. The hallway blurred; doors, lights, and tangled wires whipped past. Peyton limped as fast as she could, dragging her wounded leg, her fingers clenched around Jonathan's hand to keep from falling.

One of the beasts hit the hallway wall as it turned the corner behind them, claws skittering on the tiles. The others bounded over the first with little care, desperate to attack their new, live prey.

Up ahead was a steel door with a square window and old, red lettering that was half-scratched off. They could only hope, beg, pray that it was unlocked. That perhaps they could lock it from the inside, discarding the thoughts of doubt at how a flimsy lock could keep two (and counting) demodogs at bay anyway.

"In there!" Jonathan pushed Peyton ahead; she collided with the door with a pained grunt, forcing it open, dragging Jonathan in behind her. Then the pair slammed the thing shut, backs against it as the creatures pounded. If they didn't find something to barricade them in, they were done for. But if one of them moved, releasing the strength they offered to keep the steel door closed, the demodogs would break through.

Even in her panicked state, Peyton scanned the room for options. If barricading wasn't an option, they needed to be out of sight. Because when the creatures broke through, and they were going to break through, they needed to give themselves a chance to.

They needed to fucking hide.

So, if only to buy them a little extra time, Peyton wedged the crowbar she'd once bravely wielded as a weapon between the door and the desk beside it. The desk she wished they had the time and strength to barricade themselves in with. Just as fast, Jonathan flipped off the lights, arm around Peyton to guide her down the rows of steel desks. They ducked down just as the first beast slammed into the door, steel bending under its weight.

Peyton crawled, biting back pain with every inch. Her injured leg dragged behind her, leaving a faint red smear on the tiles. In all her running, the wound had worsened; her brother's flannel shirt that Steve had haphazardly wrapped around it was now soaked through with fresh blood. Surely they'd catch her scent before she could come up with an escape plan of any kind. Hugging their knees, the two sat on the floor, backs against the cabinets, breathless, awaiting the inevitable.

Once.

Twice.

When the thing's slimy body slammed into the steel door a third time, the hinges finally gave, and it flew open with a burst of splinters. The crowbar, once holding it closed, flew across the room, echoing when it clattered to the floor. With no line of sight on their prey (however it was the things could see without eyes) the demodogs' movements slowed. Calculated, sniffing at the air, the demonic things chittered, almost like they were communicating.

Taking a chance, Peyton slowly leaned out, trying her best not to be seen, to capture a glimpse at the silhouettes of the otherworldly predators.

They were prowling closer.

Back against the metal once more, Peyton's brows furrowed in fear, locking eyes with the horrified Byers boy.

"Follow me," she mouthed shakily, inaudible, but just enough for Jonathan to understand. With haste, she and Jonathan crawled along the tiles, crossing from one row of desks to another, turning the corner to circle to the exit. Peyton peered in the gap beneath the desks as they crawled, watching as four sets of claws dug through blood-stained tiles.

In its desperate search for its next meal, the creature's body collided with the cabinet's other side, sending flasks and test tubes cascading to the ground around them. Blessing in disguise, Peyton and Jonathan used the commotion to pick up speed, scrambling to make it to the end of the row. Then, they had no choice but to stop. They could see the exit so clearly now, but if they made a run for it, they'd be dead.

These things had trapped them, and there was no knowing if they'd make it out alive. The last time she'd ended up face to face with a demodog, it took a chunk out of her leg. Her leg, which was growing more and more painful each time she dragged it across the cold, hard floor. And she was trying so hard to be brave. Because it was her idea to come to the damn lab in the first place. To look for their parents. For Will and Mike. And her brother was waiting for them right outside the gates.

God, her brother.

What if she never saw him again?

All because she had the bright idea to lead some kind of shitty rescue mission into a building swamped with creatures from literal Hell, with demonic rows of teeth and an appetite for human flesh.

Jonathan could see it in her face; fear taking over where anger would usually reside. But it wasn't as though he could offer any words of comfort for her, not without alerting the demodogs to their location.

He, too, was trying his best to look brave. Even if Peyton knew he was just as terrified as she was. Then, he gripped her hand tightly. Just for a moment. Just like he had last year. They'd beaten a demogorgon before, even if it was only one last time, he had to believe they could survive again.

With a brief exchange of glances, Jonathan moved first this time, inching forward on his hands and knees, careful to avoid the shards of glass glittering on the tile like scattered ice. His pulse thundered in his ears, each beat louder than his own breath. He hadn't realised, in his urgency to move, that Peyton hadn't followed.

She was still there. Frozen. Curled behind the counter, knees pulled tight to her chest, trembling, her breath shallow and uneven. Then, her shoulder hit the counter behind her. Shaking on the surface for only a moment, Peyton's reflexes weren't quick enough to stop the glass test tube from slipping, shattering on the ground beside her. Wide-eyed and horrified, she stared helplessly at the fragments on the tiles.

The room had fallen completely silent.

No more footsteps.

No more growls.

They were going to find her.

One leapt up onto the desk, its claws scraping on the surface, head cocked, sniffing the air. The other rounded the corner, fangs glinting under the flicker of failing fluorescent lights.

Jonathan pressed himself low, crawling faster, his palms slipping against the cold floor. Behind him, even when she knew she'd been heard, Peyton still hadn't moved. Her limbs were locked in terror. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her body refused to obey.

The creatures crept closer.

Sniffing.

Listening.

They were going to find her.

And Jonathan couldn't just sit there and do nothing.

Eyes darting around until they landed on something glinting from the little light offered by the gap where there was once a door. The goddamn crowbar. Grasping it tightly, desperate to distract the beasts long enough for Peyton to snap out of her terror and make some kind of getaway, he slammed it as hard as he could against the tile, over and over, the sharp clang echoing through the room.

Both Demodogs froze.

Then, as one, their heads snapped toward him.

Jonathan scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over himself as he crawled into a nearby cabinet. If he couldn't fight this thing, he could at least buy himself some time by locking himself inside the steel cabinet. Desperately, he tried to pull the heavy metal drawer shut, metal screeching in protest at his failed attempts. It was jammed halfway, refused to close any further than a few inches, "Shit!" he tugged harder, but the thing wouldn't budge.

The Demodog prowled closer, shadows shifting across the stainless steel cabinets. Peyton watched in horror, utterly helpless, her hand clamped over her mouth to silence her ragged gasps.

The creature snarled as it loomed over Jonathan's hiding spot, ready to strike. Its claws scraped against the stained tiles, a grotesque symphony of primal hunger and aggression.

Then, it pounced.

The sound was deafening, metal screeching as its body collided with the cabinet door, denting it inward.

But it hadn't hit Jonathan.

It had hit his reflection.

His hiding place, mirrored in the desk in front of him, had saved his life. For a split second, Jonathan just stared, wide-eyed, breath laboured. But soon enough, he remembered where the hell he was; remembered how little time he had. Instinct kicked in, and he shoved the drawer back open to crawl out, scrambling across the floor. Before the creature, disoriented by the impact, could recover, he grasped the (now twisted and bent) crowbar, driving it into the beast's body with all his might. Not enough to kill it, but enough to make sure the thing sure as hell wasn't chasing after them any time soon.

Much to Peyton's confusion, she stared when both creatures writhed in pain, roaring in protest at the very feeling. Her gaze darted frantically around the room until it landed on another large metal door, some kind of walk-in freezer, at the far end. If they couldn't kill it, maybe they could trap it. It wasn't a good plan — hell, it was barely a plan at all — but it was something.

Her leg throbbed as she pushed herself up, half limping, half running, dragging her injured limb behind her. Maybe it somehow knew that Peyton would be an easier target, because the second it had line of sight, the demodog shrieked, a wet, high-pitched roar that rattled the walls, and launched itself over the counter in pursuit, ignoring Jonathan entirely.

Peyton threw herself into the closet, using the edge of a shelving unit to swing her body around the corner of the narrow space just as the beast lunged for the kill. It flew past her, slamming into the shelves with a violent crash that sent jars and tools shattering to the floor.

Adrenaline surging through her veins, Peyton darted back toward the open doorway. The demodog turned, snapping its blood-slick jaws. The Newby girl grabbed the handle, slamming the heavy metal door in its face just as it lunged again. The door rattled under the force of its skull, teeth gnashing through the narrow gap, inches from her hand.

But it wouldn't click shut.

"Fuck!" she cried, throwing her weight against it desperately. But no sooner had the word left her mouth than Jonathan's defiant yell flooded her ears. He sprinted toward her, eyes wide and wild, and slammed his shoulder against the door with all his strength. The impact reverberated through the room, but finally the latch caught, locking the beast inside.

At least for now.

For a moment, all Peyton could do was breathe; each gasp tore through her throat, her chest burning from the effort. Jonathan leaned against the door, sweat dripping down his temple, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Dread washing over, Peyton glanced toward the other side of the room where the other demodog once lay, only to see what seemed to be a puddle of red-ish, black-ish blood. In a panic, her eyes darted around the room, suspecting the worst. Knowing they could be hunted again. But then she heard it. Faintly, in the distance of the lab, the sound of sprinklers, of water hitting the ground. Why that was more interesting to the monster than live prey, she had little time to ponder. Not when Victory was far from theirs. Not when more of the creatures could, would, appear at any moment.

They just had to keep going.

To the exit, to find their family, Peyton was no longer sure.

And Peyton's worsening pain hadn't gone unnoticed by her step-brother. Swiftly, he reached for her arm, draping it over his shoulders to take on as much of her weight as he could.

"Come on," he rasped. Peyton nodded, still shaking, and let him pull her forward, beginning their stumble toward the doorframe. Behind them, the trapped demodog roared once more, its muffled screeches echoing through the steel.

They left the room almost as quickly as they'd entered it.

Somehow, the second demododg, the one they hadn't managed to trap, wasn't hot on their tails. Something had distracted it. Divine intervention? However, the very existence of these beasts led Peyton to question the very idea of any kind of divinity. It was much more likely that some other poor soul had garnered the monster's attention, a new target, fresh prey for it to sink its talons into.

The flashing lights turned everything into a series of snapshots. With Jonathan dragging her forward, Peyton could feel herself getting weaker with every urgent stride, grateful she had her brother to guide her through the maze of strobe lights.

Rounding a corner, Peyton would have screamed had she not been so out of breath it hurt. Blinded by a bright beam of light, for a moment, she thought she'd fucking died there and then. That holy shit, there really is a bright light to go into. It was only when she heard a familiar voice saying her name that she realised she, in fact, wasn't being called to the other side.

"Peyton?" Tears pricked her eyes when terror turned to relief upon discovering she hadn't almost collided with a monster of some kind. The torch beam lowered. The face she saw was familiar. Jacob fucking Wheeler.

"Jake?" she questioned shakily, somehow happy and horrified to see him in the dim hallway.

"Oh my god," he sighed, reaching for her shoulders, like he needed the physical proof she was really there. She leaned toward him for a much-needed hug, taking her weight off of Jonathan, "Are you hurt?" Peyton didn't answer. Chin resting on his shoulder, the Newby girl had time now to notice something even better. A glimmer of hope in what had become such a hopeless night.

He wasn't alone.

Jacob, Joyce, Hopper, Mike, Will.

All in the hallway.

All somehow, miraculously, alive.

"Mom?" Jonathan choked out, and suddenly they were crashing into each other, Joyce wrapping her arms around him in a hug so desperate it looked painful.

"Jonathan?" Joyce's expression was an amalgamation of relief and worry as she wrapped her arms tightly around her son. But the eldest Byers didn't have long to sit with the feeling of reassurance. Not when his eyes landed on Hopper, a young Will Byers slung over his shoulder.

"What... what happened?" panted Jonathan, "Is he okay? Is Will okay?" But Joyce didn't seem to know how to answer.

"What are you doing here?" she cupped his cheek, motherly anger festering in her tone at how Jonathan and Peyton could be so reckless as to come into the building in the first place. Jonathan sighed guiltily, glancing between Will and his mom.

"We... we were looking for you," he admitted, knowing how insane it sounded the second the words left his mouth.

"Are you crazy?" questioned Mike, confirming the Byers boy's beliefs. Neither Jonathan nor Peyton had a good answer. No means of defence for what had turned out to be most likely the worst plan in the world. Because, yeah, how on earth had they expected to come swooping into a demodog-infested lab with nothing more than a crowbar and save the day?

"Yeah, we got 'em," Hopper's voice suddenly broke the silence, an answer to a question none of the others had heard.

Peyton looked at him, puzzled, before noticing the earpiece. The walkie in the same hand that was wound around Will. They'd had help from someone else inside the building. Maybe that was how they'd found them in the first place. Maybe help from someone deep inside the lab was what had distracted that demodog, the one they hadn't managed to lock in a storage freezer. Jacob had since taken on the role of holding Peyton upright, still somehow managing to keep an eye on his little brother. As her thoughts gathered, the Newby girl took the chance to count the group of survivors.

Jacob, Joyce, Hopper, Mike, Will.

Five.

When there should have been six.

"Where's my dad?" asked the trembling teen.

Joyce's brow furrowed. Like she'd been hit with yet another impossible question. This time, Hopper stepped in, "Alive he..." he reassured, "he's alive..." but Peyton hated the doubt in his tone. Hated the underlying feeling, festering in the pit of her stomach, that she wasn't being told the whole truth.

"Is he safe?"

Hopper's silence in itself was an answer to her question. Because none of them were truly safe. Not locked in this damn building with those damn monsters. Again, he was listening. To something none of the others could hear.

"We gotta go," emphasised the Chief urgently, "There's more. And they're coming," Jonathan and Peyton glanced at one another then. Jonathan still had his hand on Will's cheek. Still had a look in his eye like he wanted to tear his baby brother from the chief's arms and carry him out of the lab himself.

But before he had the chance, Hopper was once again on the move, gun in one hand, the other securing Will to his shoulder. The others filtered behind in a single-file line. At some point, she barely even noticed when, Jonathan had taken Peyton back from Jacob, her arm once again draped over his shoulders as they hurried down the body-stricken corridors.

It didn't take long for the group to circle back to the entrance of the lab, an unsettling reminder of how little beyond the glass doors Jonathan and Peyton had travelled before being confronted by the man-eating monsters.

Jacob and Mike were first to filter out of the building, alarm blaring the second they opened the emergency doors. Followed closely by Hopper and Will. Jonathan and Peyton almost made it through the door. But the blonde soon came to a sudden halt. The Byers boy was initially confused, fearing the worst. That maybe she was too wounded to walk. But when she saw her take a step back, he realised. It was something far worse than that. Far more sinister, more stubborn than a physical wound. Joyce noticed too, coming to stand beside her eldest son, worry etched on her brow.

With out saying a word, they'd all come to the same conclusion.

There was no way in hell Peyton Newby was going to willingly leave this building without her father.

Joyce knew she couldn't force her to.

She wouldn't. She felt it too. The need to stay, to hope, to pray that Bob was still alive. That he'd come rushing through those doors and into the arms of his daughter at any moment.

Through the open door, Joyce and Hopper locked eyes, a silent exchange between the knowing adults. Of how, even with all the strength Joyce held, she just couldn't bring herself to force Peyton to leave. The chief turned, muttering something urgent, something Peyton couldn't hear, to Jacob. And soon enough, after handing the unconscious body of the youngest Byers to the eldest Wheeler, Hopper stormed back into the building, beelining for the stubborn blonde.

"Okay, Peyton, let's go," while still commanding, his voice came out soft, understanding, laced with authority that Peyton was all too familiar with challenging.

"No," she refused, "Not without my dad,"

"He's coming, okay?" Hopper's hand met her shoulder, a gesture that she would have otherwise shoved away had she not been stripped of all her energy, "Come on, we gotta go,"

But no sooner had the urgent plea left his lips, than the shrill shriek of a close-by demodog came from the hall. Followed by a yell that shook Peyton to her core. A voice she could recognise anywhere.

Her father.

"Dad?" The second Peyton made a move, Jonathan had her. Adrenaline festered within her, not quite enough to wrangle herself free as the screeching got louder, "Dad!" Hopper had his gun trained on the door when it flew open.

But much to everyone's relief, most certainly Peyton's, no monster had made its way in.

Because clambering through at the last second, like a certain archaeologist from Parker's all-time favourite movie, was one Bob Newby.

The wooden doors creaked in protest, shaking every time the monsters on the other side slammed against it. An unsettling noise, a low pounding that echoed the foyer.

And yet still, Peyton had never felt such relief in her life.

He was okay.

Her dad was okay.

And now, everything was going to be okay.

When Jonathan's grip softened, she almost ran over there and then. The incessant throbbing in her leg was the only thing anchoring her in place. Tears pricked the Newby girl's eyes as she watched him panting from his getaway.

Her dad.

Her superhero.

"Dad," she whimpered, at last gaining his attention. Like a little kid who needed a hug. Just one hug that could make all her troubles go away. Make everything feel better, even in a place a dark, as haunted as Hawkins Lab. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he stood straight, puzzled at first. Then came a face of worry, of relief, a bittersweet amalgamation only a parent could bear.

"Peyton?"

But his daughter never got the chance to reply.

The pounding had stopped.

Not because the creatures had given up.

Because they had broken through.

Reality seemed to stretch and warp around her in a dizzying blur. Peyton's once relieved gaze dropped in horror, her heart hammering in her chest as her eyes locked onto the beast she'd thought he had narrowly escaped.

With a sickening thud, it collided with her father's body.

His blood-curdling screams tore through the air as the demodog's claws sank deep into his chest. Peyton's breath caught in her throat as she saw his body slam into the concrete floor. But the sight of his limp form twisted beneath the creature's weight only spurred her into action.

"Dad!" Peyton's attempt to sprint toward her father, in what would certainly have been a suicide mission, was halted abruptly by a sharp tug on her arm.

Jonathan.

His grip was unyielding as he held her back, face contorted in horror when he pulled her away from the nightmare that was unfolding before them, "No!" she screamed in protest, struggling against his hold, pulse pounding in her ears.

Her words were lost, drowned out by monstrous roars and gunshots. She'd barely registered the bullets flying past them, too panicked to focus on anything other than the horrific scene before her. Hopper was somewhere in the madness, gun aimed, positioned in front of Joyce. But Peyton couldn't tear her eyes away from the demodog. Its claws ripped into her father's flesh, the sound of his pained screams piercing her ears.

The creature roared in protest when bullets grazed its skin, protected by otherworldly armour as it screeched hungrily, angrily.

It was no use.

There was nothing she could do.

Nothing Hopper could do.

Nothing anyone could do.

There was no saving Bob Newby.

Vision blurred with tears, she continued to fight against Jonathan, clawing at his arm frantically, "No!" Her voice was raw, pleading, as she tried to break free. But Jonathan held firm, his face fixed with sorrow, his own grief mirrored in the desperation of his grip.

Peyton was by no means weak. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, it should have been easy to fight her way out of Jonathan's grasp, shooting pain in her leg notwithstanding. But it was somehow no longer a fair fight. She hadn't even realised she was outnumbered until sensing the unfamiliar pressure of two sets of hands.

Steve.

Of course.

When he'd even appeared amid the horrific chaos was a mystery. Had the gates opened, or had he decided to climb over and run to the lab like she and Jonathan did? None of that mattered. Not now that he was there, clutching the arm Jonathan had let slip free, pulling her away from certain death.

"Dad!" Peyton screamed again, thrashing against Steve, her entire body wracked with sobs, but his grip didn't falter.

His voice was harsh, but soft, pleading with her, "We gotta go!" Hungry roars echoed down the hall, deafening, overwhelming. Peyton's heart lurched as the doors flew off their hinges, crashing to the floor with a deafening clang; more demodogs flooded into the room to join the attack.

Pale with fear, Steve's face snapped toward Hopper, searching for any sign that the chief had a plan. But Hop's expression was grim. Utterly devoid of all hope. He'd come to accept Bob's fate far sooner than any of the others could bring themselves to. He knew their only option now was to escape. Yet somehow, this made Steve even more determined to drag the screaming Newby girl to some kind of safety.

If such a thing even existed anymore.

"We gotta go!" he insisted, words swallowed by the screeching creatures.

"No!" Peyton sobbed, her voice raw with terror, scratching furiously at Steve's arms, her nails scraping, digging into his jacket, but he wouldn't let go.

Hopper pulled Joyce back with ease, dragging her away from the carnage, even as she fought against him, even as her cries mirrored Peyton's. And he didn't look back, his trust in the boys fueling their efforts to force Peyton into fleeing.

"Steve!" Jonathan's voice cracked with fear, his eyes wide and desperate as he stared at Steve, tears welling up in his eyes. They were running out of time. They had to get out of this place before it claimed them too.

"I know!" Steve grunted, his voice sharp with panic, something snapping within him — a mix of anger, desperation, and sorrow. Because he knew he was stronger than Peyton on a good day. Knew that, with all she'd been through that night, the fight in her was running out. With one final pull, he wrenched her from Jonathan's grasp. Arms wound tightly around her from behind, he lifted her off the floor, her boots dragging along the concrete as she struggled and cried in protest.

But it didn't matter.

They had to move.

They had to run.

Quick to follow after Joyce and Hopper as the creatures' roars echoed through the lab, all Peyton could do was cry out for her dad.

The last glimpse she caught of her father was his twitching, bloodied hand reaching out for her.

There was no answer.

Just the sound of hungry, savage growls.

The doors slammed shut just in time. A shrill scratch of claws against glass echoed through the night. The creatures scrambled and screeched, their monstrous bodies slamming into the thick, reinforced doors with enough force to shake the lab's very foundation.

But the doors held.

Barely.

Jacob, Will, and Mike were nowhere to be seen. Hopper must've told them to make a run for it before he went back into the building. And Peyton remembered passing her car on the way to the lab entrance. A vehicle that the eldest Wheeler had the keys to; she'd given them to him herself just yesterday.

A fleeting moment of relief washed over her, the briefest whisper of hope that, at least for now, the three might be safe. But her stomach still churned with dread as she heard Joyce's begging, heard Hopper utter the words, "He's gone!"

The word struck like a dagger to the heart.

Gone.

It wouldn't stop echoing, like a distant, sickening drumbeat that reverberated in her skull.

Gone.

The sudden sound of someone laying on the horn of Jonathan's car made Peyton flinch. She snapped her head toward the source, her breath hitching as she caught sight of Steve's sister in the passenger seat.

"Come on!" Sidney's voice pierced through the noise, panic rising in her tone as she leaned forward to scream through the driver's-side window. Her wide eyes stared into the gaping jaws of demodogs attempting to break through the doors, their claws screeching as they raked across the glass, "Get in!"

Easier said than done.

Peyton had only momentarily stopped her struggle against Steve's hold. It was only when Jonathan tried to force her into the car that her attempts to run back inside resumed. But the fight was slipping away from her. Every instinct screamed to break free, to tear the doors open and run back to her father. Her mind cried out in protest, but her body had nothing left to give. Words she'd once screamed were growing softer now, fading into desperate, incoherent sobs. They'd dragged her away from the only thing that had ever mattered to her. The only anchor she had ever known.

Her father.

Gone.

Jonathan's breath was ragged, his face red from the effort of holding onto her, "Peyton, we have to go!" His voice was soft now, desperate but gentle, like a plea for forgiveness.

"No, no, please!" Peyton begged, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Please!" Steve had opened the back door without her even noticing. Jonathan's hand was on her head, gently but firmly guiding her down beneath the car's metal frame.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jonathan apologised over and over, ignoring her begging, stopping her scrambles for the handle when Steve closed the door, "I'm so sorry," Peyton's heart pounded in her chest, every breath a ragged gasp. It felt like she was suffocating.

Steve clambered into the driver's seat with a frantic, desperate energy, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

"What happened?" asked a now even more terrified Sidney.

Steve didn't have it in him to answer.

His hands were shaking as they gripped the keys, fumbling in the ignition. He twisted them harshly, willing the engine to turn over, please, but it didn't catch.

"No, no, no, come on!" he turned the key once more, the engine growling, but still it didn't start. Sidney whirled around in her seat. At first, to check on Peyton, the girl trembling in her step-brother's arms. But then, her eyes landed on something far more sinister. Glass shattered, the doors of the lab falling apart to make way for the bloodthirsty beasts to clamber into the road.

"Steve?" she began, a sense of urgency in her tone. Because no shit, they needed to get the hell out of there if they wanted to live to see another day.

"I'm trying!"

"Steve!" Jonathan yelled in chorus with the younger Harrington.

"Yeah, your shitbox won't start, Byers!" he snapped. A comment that, while unnecessary, was all Steve could bring himself to reply because, like hell were they going to end up dead, having escaped by the skin of their teeth, only to be bested by the faulty engine of Jonathan's beat-up sedan. Seconds felt like hours, Steve's knuckles turning white, his face strained with the effort, pleading with the vehicle as though it could hear him,"Come on, come on..."

Sense of urgency only escalated when a demodog landed on the hood with a raucous clang, its bloodied talons scraping against the metal beneath it. But then, like some kind of twisted miracle, the engine roared to life with a growl almost as vicious as the demodog itself.

"Go, go, go!" Jonathan shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as Steve put the car in reverse and slammed his foot down on the gas, sending the demodog flying off the hood.

Tyres screeched against asphalt when he slammed the brakes, pushing the car back into gear. With a tight jaw, Steve put pedal to the metal, little care what damage he could do to the car by accelerating full speed toward the creature. Its final yelp was cut short by the violent collision, the entire vehicle jolting in protest as it crushed the beast beneath its wheels.

With the lab behind them, Steve continued speeding toward the exit. Toward so-called safety.

But nowhere felt safe anymore.

Exhaustion hit like a ton of bricks. Peyton's body went slack as her mind struggled to catch up. Finally, she allowed Jonathan to bring her head toward his shoulder. Staring wide-eyed out the window, hoarse, shaky breaths escaped through her trembling lips as her nails dug into his arm.

Vision blurred, the world outside became a hazy fog of streetlights and shadows.

Her ears rang. The frantic voices around her faded away, drowned out by the constant ringing in her skull. The muffled hum of the car's engine felt distant. Everything became a jumble of noise and motion that crashed through her mind like waves against jagged rocks.

Peyton squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut out the world, trying to shut out the screams still echoing in her mind. Her body trembled against her step-brother, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

She didn't want to move.

Didn't want to think.

Didn't want to exist anymore.

Her father's last moments burned into her eyes. His screams. The way his body crumpled beneath the monster's claws. The sound of him choking on his own blood. The flash of his terrified eyes as he reached out to her, and then...

Gone.

rip bob newby u deserved better :(

things are only gonna get sadder from here i fear...

uhhh i hope the jurassic park inspired scene w the demodogs was fun to read tho bc it was very fun to write! duffer brothers are always putting movie references into stranger things n even if jurassic park is 90s and not 80s i feel like it still fits the vibe !!

my goal was to hopefully get s2/3 done by the end of the year but uhhhh i can't promise bc i know what i'm like i have a tendancy to disappear off the face of the earth.... but w s5 coming out !! i wanna be closer to it in the aibs timeline (tho in a way i'm kinda glad bc i feel like watching s5 is gonna help a lot w me being able to foreshadow stuff while i write s4)

hoping i can stay on schedule tho!

also hopefully there's not too many spelling/grammar mistakes idk why i get such bad anxiety ab it n i fear it's what takes me so long to get chapters out like im reading/rewriting OVER and OVER bc i feel like it's not perfect but then it gets to a point where im like i could literally be here forever, yk?

ANYWAY i've had a lot of the next chapter already written for like the past year so hopefully it won't take me too long to get that finished too!

ty for reading and voting
and commenting it really does make my day!

<3