𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 5.4k

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𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 Owen's protective stance, immediately wrapping Eleven up in a teary-eyed embrace. Seeing the two of them reunited felt like something out of a dream, or maybe even a movie.

The moment of warmth and endearment didn't last long for Owen before it was being broken up by a whisper from her left. "Who's that?" Steve asked her in a volume only she could hear. Her face morphed into a frown as she turned to face him, hoping and praying that he was just joking around. "Are you serious right now?" she hissed. But the wide-eyed look of confusion on his otherwise pretty face told her everything she needed to know.

Owen sighed. "Her name's Eleven. Hawkins Lab experimented on her and she has superpowers. We thought she died last year killing the demogorgon," she rattled off, quietly. She turned back around to face the gelled-up super-kid, eyeing her in amazement. "But apparently, she didn't actually die at all," she finished, watching as Hopper tucked Eleven against his side in a fatherly hug.

"You've been hiding her," Mike said in realization, intensely staring at the chief's back. "You've been hiding her this whole time!" he snapped, roughly shoving Hopper from behind. Owen's brows dipped confusedly, having missed what led to this revelation while she was explaining who Eleven was to Steve.

"Hey!" Hopper huffed, grabbing Mike by the collar of his shirt. "Let's talk. Alone," he insisted, before using the leverage of his grip on the boy's shirt to drag him into one of the back bedrooms. Mike stomped along with him frustratedly, looking like a kid who was getting in trouble. Muffled yelling could be heard through the house, even once the bedroom door was shut. All everyone could do was peer around nervously, not having expected a reaction like this out of the boy.

Dustin and Lucas were the first to put a crack in the room's awkward tension. They both stepped forward, engulfing Eleven in her third welcome-back hug of the night. Owen listened as they murmured sweet greetings to one another, clearly just happy to be back together again.

The sound of footsteps rounded Owen's periphery with Max coming from behind her back at last. A rare, shy smile had even graced Max's lips as she approached Eleven and the boys; Owen could hardly believe the sight. "Hey. Um, I'm Max," she paused, stretching out a hand for Eleven to shake. "I've heard a lot about you."

But instead of extending her own hand to meet the new girl's, Eleven acted as if she hadn't even heard her. Wordlessly, she pushed past Max, effectively brushing off her act of kindness. Although, Owen didn't understand the strange reaction, she certainly didn't expect to be the person Eleven approached instead.

The two girls stared at one another for a second, studying the differences in each other's appearances after a year apart. "Your hair," the younger girl breathed, examining the now-auburn strands.

Owen couldn't help but chuckle. "Your hair," she quipped, still growing accustomed to the longer style. This even made Eleven's lips turn upward in a soft smile, one that had Owen reaching out to tug her into a tight hug. "It's good to have you back," she mumbled with her cheek pressed against the hardened gel covering Eleven's hair.

The two girls had barely even pulled away from one another, their arms still wrapped loosely around each other's frames when Eleven's gaze drifted to Steve over Owen's shoulder. She took a moment to really analyze him, trying to really feel out this unnamed, new addition to the group. Steve just stood there awkwardly, allowing her glare to rake over him before she eventually gave up and moved on to hug Joyce.

"What was that about?" Steve mumbled, still not sure how he felt about being sized up by this little girl.

Owen turned to him with feigned concern all over her face. "I just realized I never told you what her superpower was," she said, seriously. Steve's expression instantly mirrored her own, alarmed at the thought of falling prey to Eleven's powers. "She can detect an airhead from a mile away, Steve. The levels of air in your head must've been off the charts!" Owen gasped in pretend astonishment.

Steve's eyes rolled, the worry dropping from his face once he realized she was messing with him. "Very funny," he muttered, sarcastically. He was noticeably not laughing while Owen giggled at her own joke beside him. But every time she would near the end of her laughter, one glance over at his unamused expression was enough to send her back into hysterics. "Okay, okay. Jesus, not that funny," Steve griped, waving her off dismissively.

Much to Steve's delight, her laughter did ultimately wear off. With sore cheeks, Owen stepped closer to the younger kids, noticing the dismay written all over Max's face. Owen could recognize a kid with walls built up from her own years of experience doing so. Therefore, she knew how awful it felt to lower your walls, only to immediately wish you had never done so. Like it or not, Owen understood what it felt like to be a kid like Max — always living in a 'you versus the world' mindset.

Forcing through her own typical boundaries, Owen pursed her lips and patted Max comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it too much, okay? She'll come around," she assured her, quietly. Max's eyes lifted, looking timidly hopeful. "Sometimes, the best people don't come into your life as fast friends. Hell, they may even make you work for it."

Owen's eyes fleetingly drifted to Steve, who stood just a few feet away, still haphazardly swinging that damn bat around. Her eyes rolled back to Max as she pulled in a deep breath. "And I mean, they really make you work for it," she reiterated. "But it's worth it in the end. Trust me."

With a ghost of a smile on her lips, Max's head bobbed in a quick nod of understanding. "You're probably right. She must've just been through a lot lately," she acknowledged, looking over her shoulder in the direction Eleven and Joyce had wandered off.

"Yeah, probably so," Owen breathed, turning to look the same way.

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Eleven's arrival had put a much-needed wrench in their plans. She added a weapon to their arsenal that they definitely didn't have before, granting the group the upper hand against all of those demodogs. She gave them the opportunity to actually revise their brilliant plan of just sitting around and waiting for military back-up. With her help, they could potentially do something about that gate that Will had mentioned.

"It's not like it was before. It's grown. A lot," Hopper informed everyone, having seen the gate during their stint at Hawkins Lab. "And I mean, that's considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs."

"Demodogs."

"I'm sorry, what?" Hopper asked, turning to face Dustin.

"I said, uh, demodogs. Like demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass–"

"How is this important right now?" Hopper demanded, seriously.

Dustin averted his eyes. "It's not. I'm sorry."

"I can do it," Eleven spoke up, drawing every eye that surrounded the Byers' dining table.

Hopper shook his head disapprovingly. "You're not hearing me."

"I'm hearing you," she assured him with a no-nonsense look, "I can do it."

"Even if El can, there's still another problem," Mike mentioned. "If the brain dies, the body dies," he explained. Owen's eyebrows dipped in confusion.

"And the problem is?" she pressed, in need of further clarification.

Mike released a sigh, eyes drifting over her shoulder towards the hallway. "If we're really right about this... I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the Mind Flayer's army..."

"Will's a part of that army," Lucas said in realization.

"Closing the gate will kill him," Mike confirmed. The air in the room ran cold upon hearing those words out loud. Like everyone else, Owen's eyes subconsciously flew to gauge Joyce's reaction. As one could guess, her face displayed a mixture of fear, dazed confusion, and deep thought. After everything she had been through to bring her boy back to life, there had to be something they could do to avoid killing him. She just had to figure out a way.

"He likes it cold," she said, suddenly. Her head turned first, her glare gracing the hallway that led back to their bedrooms. "What?" Hopper asked, not sure if he had heard her correctly. But then Joyce was standing, following her line of sight down the hall. "He likes it cold," she repeated, leading everyone into Will's room.

The frail younger boy was still completely knocked out on the bed, but he hardly looked relaxed. His body was stiff as a board on top of the sheets — eerily looking as if rigor mortis had set in. Owen cringed at the thought, turning away from him before she could notice any more grim details.

"It's what Will kept saying to me," Joyce told the group. "He likes it cold." She marched over to the room's open window, slamming it closed. The night air had certainly brought the room's temperature down; Owen could feel the chill upon her fingers. "We keep giving it what it wants!" Joyce exclaimed in exasperation.

"If this is a virus and Will's the host, then..." Nancy began to theorize, gaze trailing down towards the boy. "Then we need to make the host uninhabitable," Jonathan finished, kneeling beside the bed.

"So, if he likes it cold..." Nancy murmured, looking up at Joyce before she finished her thought. But Joyce's eyes had hardened into something determined, angry.

"We need to burn it out of him," Joyce decided.

"But if you're going to wake him up again, he'll recognize the shed now," Owen pointed out, tucking her arms in front of her. "We have to do it somewhere he doesn't know this time," Mike agreed. Dustin nodded along, "Yeah, somewhere far away."

"I have a place we can take him," Hopper said, solemnly.

Before Owen could even get a real grasp on the plan, Will was being wrapped up in a blanket again and carried through the front door. Every step of the way, Hopper was relaying directions to Jonathan about each turn he had to take to make it to this secret hideout in the woods. Steve and Nancy were in the backyard scavenging through the piles Owen and Hopper had stacked while cleaning out the shed, in search of anything that could produce heat.

Meanwhile, Owen merely found herself pacing the floors of the Byers' house with the chattering children as her background music. All she could do was wait for instructions regarding her next move and honestly, she was willing to do just about anything at that point. Hell, she would march right into the lab with Eleven to close that gate if she had to.

"Owen, you and I are on babysitting duty again," Steve announced upon re-entry into the house. Her head snapped toward him, stopping mid-pace. "What?" That had to be the least exciting option of all. Her lips sloped into a frown unbeknownst to her.

"Hey, try not to get too excited," he quipped, sarcastically. "Hopper's taking Eleven to the lab now and Nancy's going with the Byers to that cabin. That leaves me and you to take care of these little shits."

Owen peered around the living room — sure enough, Eleven and Mike had managed to sneak off while she was lost in thought. She blew out a huff of air, shoulders slumping. So, their instructions for the evening turned out to be no instruction at all. All they had to do was just make sure the kids didn't kill themselves or each other. It was easy enough — too easy, if you asked Owen.

"C'mon, let's go see them off." Steve waved her and the remaining kids out through the front door. Owen watched from the rickety porch as everyone else descended upon their missions, heading out to save the world.

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Dustin had made it his own personal mission to preserve the demodog carcass that was left in the living room. He had even begun stripping everything out of the Byers' refrigerator to make room for a little in-house morgue for the thing. A pile of various bottles and leftovers had collected on the floor of the kitchen before Dustin deemed the fridge as an acceptable burial ground for the monster.

"All right. It should fit now," Dustin reported, turning to face Steve expectantly. The older boy was cradling the monster, its dead body swaddled in a quilt — Owen's idea. She stood next to him with her hands placed firmly on her hips, closely examining the size of the refrigerator to make sure the monster would actually fit.

"Is this really necessary?" Steve sighed.

"Yes, it is, okay? This is a groundbreaking scientific discovery. We can't just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It's not a dog," Dustin ranted. Steve openly rolled his eyes, lacking the willpower to fight with Dustin on this. "All right, all right, all right."

He stepped closer to the fridge before looking down at Dustin with a scowl. "But you're explaining this to Mrs. Byers, all right?" Then, Steve was slamming the uncooperative body of the demodog into the cramped fridge space. Owen and Dustin watched as he attempted to wrestle the thing into place and failed as he did so. "Help me out," he gritted.

Owen was the first to step up, despite not being sure what he wanted her to do. "Do you want me to just–" she started, awkwardly reaching around him as she tried to shove the monster further into the refrigerator. "No, no. Get the door! Just get the door," Steve insisted, not enjoying the feeling of being sandwiched between the girl behind him and the monster in front of him.

"Oh!" Owen blurted. "Alright, yeah. I can get the door."

She backed off, just waiting for Steve to give her the signal to shut that thing in there. "Ew, Jesus..." he grumbled, before finally just giving it one hard shove and jumping back to let Owen shut the door. All three of them pressed their body weight against the outside of the machine, officially locking the demodog away.

"Teamwork," Steve grinned, turning to Owen and raising a hand for a high five.

Owen's eyes darted between his face and the disgusting way his hand was glistening. "If you think I'm touching the hand with the demodog juice all over it, you have seriously lost your mind," she muttered, turning and walking back to the living room. Once he noticed what she was talking about, she heard a quietly muttered, 'Ew, gross' as she wandered away.

Mike was pacing in almost the exact same spot Owen was earlier, concern written all over his face. She slipped past him, flopping onto the couch and sprawling out as the kids cleaned up the mess Eleven had left. "Mike, would you just stop already?" Lucas scolded.

"You weren't in there, okay, Lucas?" His pacing finally stopped, but this just gave him the opportunity to glare indignantly at his friend. "That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs."

"Demodogs!" Dustin called out from the kitchen.

"The chief will take care of her," Lucas assured him. "Like she needs protection," Max mumbled. Owen nodded in agreement; if anyone should be worried, it's those damn demodogs.

"Listen, dude. A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?" Steve chimed in, strolling in with a towel after washing his hands.

"Not sure this is the right crowd to be making sports analogies to," Owen muttered, sliding an arm behind her to prop her head up.

"Yeah, Steve. First of all, this isn't some stupid sports game. And second, we're not even in the game. We're on the bench," Mike rattled off, irritatedly. God, Owen didn't need the reminder. They could be doing something to actually help everyone out. But instead, they were doing chores at someone else's house.

"Okay. So, my point is..." Steve trailed off. Owen's eyes narrowed, trying to take a guess of where he was going with this. But he gave it about two seconds of thought before giving up. "Right, yeah. We're on the bench, so, uh, there's nothing we can do," he sighed, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

"Y'know, that's not entirely true," Dustin spoke up. "I mean, these demodogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away."

"So, if we get their attention–" Lucas started, catching on to what Dustin was insinuating.

"Maybe we can draw them away from the lab," Max said.

"And then we can clear a path to the gate," Mike finished. Owen sat up on the couch, clearly not opposed to the idea. If it meant doing something actually useful, she was into it.

"Yeah, and then we all die!" Steve exclaimed, looking at everyone like they had each grown a third eye.

"Love the optimism," Owen grumbled, using his own words against him. Steve shot her an annoyed look that spoke volumes about her not backing him up on this. But she didn't really care — she just couldn't help but notice how much he resembled a scolding mother with that look in his eye and a towel resting atop his shoulder.

"Yeah, Steve. That's just one point of view," Dustin shrugged.

Steve glared over at him in disbelief. "No, that's not a point of view, man. That's a fact."

"I've got it!" Mike raced through the house, giving the others no choice but to follow along. "This is where Owen and the chief dug their hole. This is our way into the tunnels. So..." He stood from the crouched position, following the blueish drawings like a map. "Here, right here. This is like a hub. So, you've got all the tunnels feeding in here."

On the floor of the kitchen, various lines of scribbles met, forming a noticeable blob. Owen's eyes glanced up from the drawing. "I know this place. Hopper and I have been here. I could get us back there," she acknowledged.

"Maybe if we set this on fire..." Mike speculated with a minutely crazed look in his eye.

"Oh yeah? That's a no," Steve objected from the back of the group.

"The mind flayer would call away his army," Dustin said, ignoring Steve.

"They'd all come to stop us!" Lucas exclaimed.

Mike nodded quickly. "Then we'd circle back to the exit. Owen could lead us," he went on. "By the time they realize we're gone–"

"El would be at the gate," Max hypothesized, looking amazed by the prospect of the plan working.

However, Steve was having none of it. "Hey. Hey! Hey!" he shouted, loudly clapping to garner everyone's attention. "This is not happening."

"But–"

"No, no, no. No buts. I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe and that's exactly what I plan on doing. We're staying here, on the bench. And we're waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand that?"

"This isn't a stupid sports game!" Mike argued.

"I said, does everybody understand that?" He used the hand towel to emphasize his point, swinging the cloth around dramatically. Steve made stern eye contact with each member of the party — including Owen. She couldn't resist scowling at him, arms crossing. "I need a yes."

But before Owen and the kids could grit out the single word of understanding, a tingle ran up her spine. It raised goosebumps all over her arms and burst outwards once it reached the base of her neck, causing her ears to ring. "Someone's here," Owen announced, followed by the sound of a car engine revving.

The kids rushed towards the front window, peering out into the shadowy front yard. Faintly, Owen could hear the sound of rock music as a pair of headlights rounded the driveway. "It's my brother. He... he can't know I'm here. He'll kill me," Max nervously stammered, turning to face Lucas beside her. "He'll kill us," she rephrased.

The room was quiet, trying to decide the best way to go about this. "I'll handle it," Steve spoke up, a look of conviction on his face. "Just stay inside, okay?" Once again, he made stern, intentional eye contact with Owen.

"Harrington, you can't be–" she started, halfway through a scoff.

"Owen, I'm serious. Stay here," he instructed. The use of her first name caught her off guard. He never called her that. If he was going to address her by name at all, it had always been Webb.

Cleverly, Steve used this distraction to slip out onto the front porch to talk to Max's older brother. Owen stared at the front door, her stomach doing somersaults inside of her as she waited for him to return. Not to mention, her whole skeletal system felt like it was exposed to a live wire, all tingly and awful.

"Shit! Did he see us?" Dustin shouted, all four of the kids sliding their backs down the couch. Owen had been so distracted that she totally missed the kids spying out the window. "Are you serious, guys? Get away from the window!" she barked, grabbing the ones she could reach and dragging them further into the living room.

Suddenly, the front door was swinging open, the door knob slamming a dent into the wall beside it. To Owen's surprise, it was that dickhead who cut her and Law off in front of the school parking lot standing in the doorframe.

Billy something-or-other.

She had heard talk of him around school, but had never put together that he and Max were siblings until that moment. "You." The single word came out as a snarl from Owen's lips, her face twisting into a glare. Billy gave her that same nasty smirk that he had given her that day in the parking lot. She would never admit it, but the sight made her skin crawl.

"Well, well, well... what a surprise," he greeted, slamming the door shut behind him. Owen's mind began to race, wondering what had happened to Steve to allow for Billy to get inside the house. "Owen Webb and..." he trailed off, looking over her shoulder to the kids cowering behind her. "Lucas Sinclair." The younger boy's name left his lips in a dark, evil tone.

With every step Billy took towards the group, the kids backed away, receding into the kitchen. But Owen stood her ground, refusing to let a man with a stringy mullet scare her. "I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max," Billy recounted, threateningly.

"Get the hell out of here, Billy," Owen ordered, eyes narrowing at him. But with the way his dark gaze was fixated on the kids, it was as if he didn't even hear her.

"You disobeyed me," he growled, cold stare boring into his younger sister. "And you know what happens when you disobey me... I break things."

He reached out, grabbing Owen by the shoulders and throwing her out of his way. She roughly hit the wall beside them with a grunt. But once the kids were left unguarded, Billy made sure to grab Lucas first, harshly gripping him by the jacket as he shoved the boy further into the kitchen.

"Billy, stop! Stop it! Billy!" All of the kids were yelling, terrified for their friend's life. Owen heard the clatter of dishes as Billy slammed Lucas against a cabinet. Owen shoved herself off of the wall, hurrying into the room where all the commotion was coming from.

"Since Maxine won't listen to me, maybe you will," Billy fumed. "You stay away from her. Stay away from her! You hear me?"

Heart racing in her chest, Owen stomped closer to the two boys. Her hand shot out, grabbing Billy by the mass of blonde curls at the base of his neck, yanking him back as hard as she could. She heard him hiss in pain as he was whipped away, but Lucas made sure he felt it everywhere.

"Get off of me, you douchebag!" he shouted, his knee coming up to connect with Billy's denim-encased crotch. The older boy groaned in pain, doubling over and clutching himself in hopes of easing the ache.

"You two are so dead! You're dead," Billy warned, icy glare piercing into Owen and Lucas. But she wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes had traveled over his shoulder, watching as Steve approached, seeming to have appeared out of thin air. He pulled Billy by the shoulder, spinning him around abruptly.

"No. You are," Steve retorted, before pulling back and punching Billy right in the nose. He slumped over for only a moment, but then he was throwing his head back in deranged laughter. Owen watched him warily, reaching out and pulling Lucas back toward his friends.

"Looks like you've got some fire in you after all, huh?" Billy bellowed, his voice echoing through the house. Blood leaked from his nose, the color matching the red flush that had spread over his exposed chest. "I've been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody's been telling me so much about!"

Steve's lips flattened into a firm line, his hand coming up to daringly prod the other boy in the chest. "Get out," he commanded. As Billy considered his next move, all that could be heard in the kitchen was the heavy breathing of everyone involved. A pang of pain behind Owen's eyes told her that this wasn't over yet — Billy wouldn't give up so easily.

Seconds later, his heavy fist came flying through the air. Steve ducked easily before landing another punch across Billy's face that sent him falling backwards onto the dining table. The shouts of encouragement from the kids sounded like they were coming from worlds away, all distant and echoey in Owen's mind as she watched Steve and Billy fight. Blood was pouring from Billy's nose and mouth now, staining his teeth and dribbling down his chin. But he wouldn't stop fucking laughing.

Unexpectedly, Billy reached for one of the dishes in the sink, shattering it across Steve's head. This sent him stumbling back, a hand pressing against the new gash across his forehead. Even with Steve dazed, Billy marched toward him, rearing back for another hit.

Hoping to give Steve some time to recoup, Owen leapt in between the boys. But Billy was bloodthirsty, swinging blindly towards whatever was in his way. This now included Owen, who received an ear-ringing punch across her face. She vaguely registered the ache in her cheekbone, but the adrenaline pumping through her body was enough to mask it. She pulled back, then sent her clenched fist into a collision with Billy's face.

His head flew backwards with the force of her hit before he snapped it back into place, eyebrows furrowing at her. "You bitch," he snarled. Before Owen could really register what was happening, his boot-clad foot was shoved against her stomach with more strength than she was anticipating. She stumbled backwards into the living room, tripping along the way. She roughly fell onto the wooden floors, the breath knocked out of her lungs.

Owen's eyes fluttered, hearing more punches land and indistinct shouting. She unsuccessfully gasped for air, making ugly squeaky noises. Then, she sensed Steve go sliding past her on the floor, his back knocking into the couch. Her head lolled to the side, seeing Billy on top of him, landing one punch after another across Steve's face.

Even with the burning in her lungs and throat, Owen pressed herself up and off of the floor. She wobbled and swayed as she stood to her feet. She stood over the boys, watching as Billy assaulted Steve's unconscious body. She raised her foot, slamming it against the side of Billy's head and knocking him off of Steve.

"You know, Owen... you've been getting on my last goddamn nerve," Billy growled, officially distracted and bored with the concept of fighting King Steve. "Seems like you need to be taught a fucking lesson." He pushed himself onto his feet, blood smeared all across his face as he stepped over Steve to stomp toward Owen.

But Owen felt like she was on fire. The typical tingle in her spine had spread across her entire body, pulsing all the way through to the tips of her fingers. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, explode through the bone and muscle and go flying out into the night sky. In an attempt to stop the electric quivering of her hands, Owen tightened her fingers into fists at her side, fingernails digging into her palm.

Then, the weirdest thing started to happen.

The ground beneath them began to quiver and shake, too. Owen wasn't sure if it was real at first — perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. But when she looked over at the kids, they were clearly feeling the tremors too, a different kind of fear written on their faces as they clutched the walls in attempts at stabilizing themselves.

However, the earthquake just kept growing stronger. Before long, the photos on the walls were rattling and books were falling out of the shelves in the living room. The lights flickered overhead, continuously switching between shrouding the room in darkness and light. When Owen's eyes drifted back towards Billy, she could only watch through the flashing lights as he stumbled about the room, fighting against the rumbling earth beneath them.

It was a fight he soon lost, falling backwards into a table near the entryway and slamming his head on the corner of the furniture. The way he limply rolled off of the table and dropped to the floor caused Owen's hands to unclench. Almost instantly, the earthquake ceased and the lighting overhead blinked back to normal. Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Owen dropped to her knees, staring blankly at Billy's body on the floor beside Steve's. She didn't even notice, but blood dripped from her nose, seeping into the seam of her lips.

Brave little Max was the first to make a move, seeing this as an opportunity. She grabbed Steve's bat that had been propped against the wall, priming it in what Owen now recognized as nearly perfect posture. "From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?"

"Screw you." Billy's words were slurred in reply.

Max slammed the bat of nails right between his legs, showing him just how much damage she could really do to him. She yanked the bat back up, the embedded nails tearing the wooden floors as she did. "Say you understand! Say it! Say it!" Max screamed.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke. "I understand."

"What?"

"I understand."

Then, Billy's eyes finally fluttered shut — out of humiliation, exhaustion, or maybe a mixture of both. Owen couldn't tell. The bat clattered to the floor as the room grew silent once again. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas stared in amazement at everything they had just witnessed, while Max circled her brother's body and grabbed the car keys from his belt loop.

"Let's get out of here," Max stated, glancing over at Owen. "Can you drive?"

Owen tiredly nodded, clutching her stomach as she stood. Max tossed the keys to her and she caught them perfectly despite her fatigue and the way she ached everywhere.

"Just get Steve out to the car. I'll get all our shit," Owen sighed.

She gathered everything they would need to descend into the tunnels again, stuffing it into Steve's backpack. Owen threw it over her shoulder, making sure to grab her and Steve's bats. She stepped over Billy's body to head out the door, not expecting for him to wrap a hand around her ankle and bring her to a stop.

Owen's head whipped around to face him, giving him a sneer even as he looked at her with hazy eyes. He mumbled something incoherent, but she didn't even bother asking for clarification. She easily shook his hand off of her before kneeling over his face, her jaw clenched.

"Go to hell, Billy," Owen spat.

She didn't even bother to look back as she exited the house, teeth gritted as she stepped from the heat of the house into the November air. Max already had the car running; it was that same blue Chevy he had used to cut her and Law off that day at school. Owen couldn't help but smirk to herself as she slid into the driver's seat.

"What are you so smiley about?" Max pondered, eyeing Owen's bloody side profile.

"Just having a real full-circle moment," she replied, shifting the car into reverse. "Now, let's get the fuck out of here."