Music envelopes every square inch of the building, blaring and with a beat so intense Nancy swears it’s palpable. There are lights of every color dancing on the ceiling, glitter spattered on the floor, and sweaty bodies packed so tightly together it’s difficult to cross to the bar. Still, when she finally manages, it’s with a smile so wide it makes her giggle while she orders.
❝ Can I have an Alabama Slammer and a Sex on the Beach – oh, and that one with pineapple juice, please! ❞
Okay, so maybe she’s already two drinks in; still, this is fun, and it’s something both Henry and herself need after working so much – even in a place as strange as this.
“Hey baby – can I buy you a drink?”
There’s a hand on her waist which doesn’t belong; really, the stranger’s boldness is almost impressive.
( Annoying. )
❝ No, I'm fine. Thank you. ❞ Polite, but firm – she doesn’t have time for this.
He speaks again, but Nancy isn’t hearing him, too busy grabbing the drinks she’d ordered with a thankful grin to the bartender. The hand on her waist is too slow to fall away on its own, but it’s removed as she shifts to the side. Drinks in hand, her gaze falls to the crowd of bodies, now searching for the one face she's thrilled to get back to.
( — and if Nancy giggles again while she looks, she’ll definitely be blaming the alcohol. )
She’d kicked and screamed as anyone captured would do, but in truth, Lucy Westenra was safer in this lab than out in the real world. Out there, vampire hunters lurked in the shadows in an effort to wipe them out, regardless if they were monstrous or not. But that had been well over a decade ago. In this lab, she’d been able to be like a mother to some of the children, a sister to others.
With the first, she wasn’t so certain how he felt about her. He’d been the first child she’d spoken with so long ago. Today, he was so far away from that young creature.
“Sometimes I forgot how old you’ve become. You’re a proper young man now.”
@creelcreep asked: Don’t think I won’t make you go to bed. Try me.” [ he's about to use his powers to yeet max into bed isn't he.... ] || meme
she is tired. but she’s also frustrated, and grumpy, and it takes everything she has not to pick up her homework book, and yeet over in his direction. instead, she settles with turning in her seat, the grumpiness shining through as the chair unpleasantly squeaks on her floor. “ look, if i don’t finish this, my math teacher is going to have a fit. and the last thing i need right now is my mom and step dad finding out. ten minutes, maybe twenty, that’s all it’s gonna take me. providing you can stay quiet for that long. ” she pauses, and frowns, motioning to him. “ what happened to that comic book i gave you ?? ”
It'd been a year or two since she'd had to break routine. Work as the school nurse during the week, groceries and necessities on Saturday, relax to the best of her ability on Sunday.
Damned kitchen wall clock, holding her Sunday hostage. She wasn't supposed to have anything to do.
Creel's Clocks. The shop was recommended by a few of the administrators in the high school; they’d all said his repair work was fantastic. However, a surprising lack of other cars in the parking lot makes her hesitant to go inside. Squinting at the sign on the door would prove the shop's open, though, so she takes a deep breath, leaves her car, and steps through the door.
Quietly, she wanders around, pace slow so she could look for any further proof of the shop in fact being open — an employee, maybe another customer.
Brown eyes fixate on the blonde hair of the man turned away from her, fiddling with a grandfather clock. There's a moment of shock, to take in the information physically right in front of her.
❛ before you do anything, try this and tell me what you think. ❜ [ 001 learning how to cook post-escape let's gooo ]
&. 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.
Who would have believed that the same man who she had come across by pure, one in a million, chance would now be stood in a kitchen that he had put together himself -with a little help from her of course- and be offering up a spoon of something steaming hot and absolutely yummy looking.
“You been making use of those cook books I found for you?” A smile was on her face, clearly pleased that the things she had found for him to read was serving a purpose. Honestly, the cook books were something of a wild card, she never thought he’d actually read them and put them to use, but here they were and here she was, parting her lips for him and making a soft ‘aah’ sound.
With his help she was able to take the mixture of meat and vegetables into her mouth and as suspected, it was hot enough to have her flapping her hand in front of her face as her tongue worked around it to help cool the food so she could enjoy the flavour.
“Oh my god.” It was sort of muffled as she, in a very un-ladylike manner, spoke with her mouth full, but she wanted him to know her thoughts before she finally swallowed it down.
“You made this yourself? It’s... it’s amazing! What is it? Is it almost ready? You wanna eat together?” Her questions came out in a rapid fire fashion but she was genuinely impressed and excited at the prospect of being able to sit with him and enjoy the meal he had prepared.
A short (nearly two and a half thousand word) fic written to satisfy the absolute brainrot I have over @creelcreep and I's boys.
It starts like any other day really.
And isn’t that funny to think, that the two of them have fallen into their own little routine here now? So different from life at the lab; now their time is their own, and they’ve figured out their own way of using it, without being dictated to. They get up at whatever time they wake naturally (still early for One, who’s gone back to calling himself Henry, at least for Ten, and mid-morning usually for the newly named Daniel) and they have breakfast together, which more often than not involves the confiscation of the syrup bottle. Daniel, they have learned, has quite a sweet tooth, and will take just about any opportunity to feed it.
Of course, today is a little bit different, because they’re running a little low on some of their basic food supplies, which means it’s once again time for Henry to go into town and pick up what they need, while Daniel stays tucked away in their little cabin. It’s safer this way, less chance of being spotted by someone who might recognise them, although Daniel is quite delighted at how his hair is growing out, how different it makes him look from the boy who had escaped that lab. It’s not uncommon for him to sit and fiddle with the strands of pale blond hair, a certain delight in his eyes. They’ll have to give it at least a trim at some point to tidy it up a little, but Henry hasn’t had the heart to suggest that just yet, not when the kid is clearly so fond of his hair. Murderer he might be, but there’s something about Daniel that softens him, even just a little.
So off Henry goes, and Daniel is content to potter around their cabin. He won’t be gone too long, Daniel knows that, but he has some time to wash up the dishes and put them away (he maybe has to climb onto the counter top to put away some, but it’s fine, he won’t fall) and then he finds himself tugging out another one of their little projects. Another bird box, to go with the four that already sit in various trees around their home. The birds and the squirrels and other animals fascinate him, and he can frequently sit for hours at a time just watching them. Sometimes he draws them too, little doodles here and there on scraps of paper, or more serious drawings, painstakingly coloured in with the pencils Henry had brought back from town last time he’d went. Today, he thinks, he’ll start painting this one, and then maybe they can put it out tomorrow. This one should be green, maybe with a blue roof. Yes, a blue roof, and he can add stars on the top too. The birds will like that. So out come the paints, and the brushes, and the cup for water that had been specifically labelled as such after the last time one of them had nearly ended up drinking paint water while not paying attention.
He's halfway through the second wall when he hears it. A heavy footfall, a twig snapping. A crackle, that sounds a little like the old radio they have in the corner. Henry wouldn’t be back yet, it’s too early still, and Daniel is instantly on high alert. There shouldn’t be anyone out here, there’s never anyone out here except for the two of them, no one even knows about this cabin except for them.
Another footstep.
Pushing himself slowly to his feet, Daniel reaches out, lifting a small wood carving knife from the table. Henry had left it there last night before they’d went to sleep, and he slips it up his sleeve, just in case. He’s had a sheltered life, yes, but even he knows that if he hits someone with the pointy end it’s going to hurt. Blue eyes flicker towards the front door, towards the front of the cabin, and the direction of the footsteps, and he takes a deep breath, thinking of everything Henry has taught him. He needs to focus.
With a slam, the door flies open.
*******************************************
Going into town is not particularly one of Henry’s favourite things in the world. Of course, he always keeps it as brief as possible, only the shops he needs, for the items he’s mentally listed out already. On occasion he might be side-tracked, usually if something catches his eye that he thinks Daniel might like- a stuffed bear (he sleeps with it every night), a small set of children’s paints (used nearly every day), a book for the two of them to pore over before bed.
It's not what he’d ever imagined for himself upon getting out of that place.
But there’s something about Daniel that’s different, that made him choose to bring the boy with him, to spare him where he hadn’t spared anyone else. The kid is incredibly positive, bounding around their makeshift home with a vibrant energy that he can’t quite help but smile at, like a personal little ball of sunshine capable of melting even his murderous heart. Perhaps this is what some people mean when they talk about caring unconditionally for family. They might not actually be related, but he supposes that’s what they are now: a family.
Now when all is said and done, Henry’s abilities have never extended as far as seeing the future. But it’s as he’s shifting the bags of groceries in his hands and wondering if he should check the bookstore that he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He can’t explain how he knows, but as he stands there, he just knows.
Daniel is in danger.
******************************************
The door flies open and the first man that steps through it without warning gets slammed through the air and into the far well. The second gets two steps in before Daniel jerks his head, and he crumples like a puppet with its strings cut. A third, a fourth, a fifth. One gets slammed by the kitchen table, another wiped out by the heavy saucepan that was drying on the rack. There’s a thin trickle of blood running from Daniel’s nose now, and he can taste iron in his mouth. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up for.
And then he steps inside, and Daniel stumbles back in horror.
“Hello Ten.”
Daniel shakes his head. That’s not his name anymore. It’s not his name, the same way this man is no longer his Papa. He’s just the man who kept them captive, who forced them into a repetitive routine in a place that was essentially a prison. Once upon a time, he would’ve done anything to please this man, would have said yes to any lesson in desperation for the slightest modicum of affection or praise. But now when Daniel looks upon Martin Brenner, all he feels is anger and fear.
“You’ve not been a very good boy, Ten.”
“That’s not my name,” he stammers out, hand twitching, but Brenner manages to duck the book that goes flying towards his head and takes another step forward. Daniel’s hand closes around the hilt of the carving knife, “Leave us alone.”
Brenner takes another step forward, and Daniel another step back. He’s almost at the back door, maybe he can turn and run.
“I’m afraid we can’t do that Ten. I know you’re frightened, but we’re here to bring you back home where you’ll be safe. It’s all going to be okay.”
“Liar,” he spits, and he swears his heart is going to pound right out of his chest. He doesn’t hear the tiny creak of the back door sliding open, too focused on what’s in front of him, “I’m not going back.”
“Oh, Ten,” Brenner sighs with a shake of his head, and the butt of a gun to the back of the head has the young boy swaying before crumpling to his knees, the collar all too easily slipped around his throat, “You will. But first you’re going to tell us where One is.”
*****************************************
He’s being ridiculous, that’s what Henry tells himself, even as he finds himself hurrying back along the route home, bookstore be damned. It’s merely paranoia, they’ve been looking over their shoulders ever since the moment they got out of the lab, and this is just merely a continuation of that. Daniel is perfectly safe in their little cabin. No one knows about it, no one goes there, and worst-case scenario is that maybe Daniel has climbed one of the trees and fallen, or something equally small like that. There’s nothing to worry about.
And then he turns the corner, and further along the road, he sees them, parked alongside the near invisible route through the trees that leads to their home. Easily at least five or six vans, nondescript, with ‘Hawkins Energy and Light’ emblazoned on the side.
The lab.
He takes off at a run. With any luck, they’re still lost in the trees, and he’ll take the chance to put an end to them before they can get anywhere near Daniel. And if they’re not...well, there’ll never be any chance of finding the bodies because there won’t be enough of them left to find. If they’ve touched a hair on his head...
He’s continuing through the trees, and there’s still no sign of them, and dread is building high in his heart. He quickens his pace even more, not much distance now between him and the cabin, and that’s when he hears the sound that makes his entire world stop, and a red mist descend.
It’s Daniel and he’s screaming.
********************************************
Daniel knows what the collar is for.
He remembers all too well seeing Papa use it on Two in front of them all. Remembers how Two had screamed and how the rest of them had cowered, terrified that if they did something wrong, it might be them next. And now it’s on him, and his lips are stained with his own blood and his head hurts and the birdhouse on the table is in bits on the floor now.
Brenner takes a few more steps forward and then he’s crouching down beside where Daniel is on his knees, his expression blank in a way that is truly chilling. A hand behind his head wrenches him a little more upright by the hair, a thin cry escaping his lips.
“You’re going to tell us when One is, Ten. I don’t want to hurt you.”
In a moment of bravery, or perhaps foolishness, Ten spits in his face. The collar is turned on, and Daniel shrieks, hands flying to his throat even as he jerks, trying to rip the contraption off.
“Tell us where he is.”
“NO!”
Turned up again, its only the hand now holding him by the collar of his shirt that is keeping him upright now. Pain lances through him, and it’s worse than anything he’s ever felt, but he’ll never tell. Never ever. Turned up once more, and the pain is so intense that there are dark spots floating across his vision, and he thinks he might pass out. Idly, he realises that he’s still screaming, that the noise is him, the sound ripping from his throat beyond his control. And then suddenly...
It all stops.
Papa is thrown backwards. The hand holding him upright disappears in a flash of red, and he slumps to the floor, body still twitching. Half closed eyes flicker upwards and he sees him, standing in the doorway, groceries forgotten on the ground, face like a murderous angel.
Upon hearing Daniel’s scream, he covers the remaining distance to the cabin in little more than a few minutes. That’s when he sees it, the cabin door lying open. There are bodies scattered around, a rather impressive number if he does say so himself, but past that he can see the man who he hates more than almost anything else. He’s crouching, crouching in front of Daniel. The boy he’s grown to care for is being held up by the shirt, one of those collars around his throat, and there’s blood under his nose, across his lips. Anger bubbles...
And explodes.
The remaining few men seem to explode with it, and Brenner himself is thrown back from the boy, colliding with the cabinet. He doesn’t even get a second to orient himself before Henry is on him, pinning him to the ground both physically and mentally, and his fist is slamming into his face. Over and over, and there’s blood coating his knuckles now, fuelling his fury even more. Over and over and over until...
A quiet cough. It’s enough to momentarily distract Henry from his ire and he turns his head towards the noise. It’s Daniel. He’s still lying where he’d fallen, limbs still spasming weakly, and he’s only half conscious, but he’s reaching out across the floor to him.
It’s the nail in Brenner’s coffin.
In the same instant, two things happen. One, Brenner suddenly just twists, bones snapping, eyes popping, and he’s dead before he fully hits the floor. Two, the collar around Daniel’s throat wrenches open, flying across the room and embedding itself in the wall. The room is silent, save for Henry’s heavy breathing, and the tiniest of whimpers from the crumpled boy.
In a few brief movements, Henry is on his feet again, crossing the floor and dropping to his knees beside the boy. He reaches out, scooping the boy up and pulling him against his chest, cradling him close and burying a reassuring hand in blond hair. A smaller, weaker hand comes up to clutch at his shirt, and he holds him a little tighter.
“It’s okay...it’s okay...it’s over now. It’s all over.”
And in that moment, Henry makes a promise to himself.
It's a quiet Saturday; rare in its appearance and whole-heartedly welcomed by Nancy Wheeler. There are no clubs to attend to, no classes to drift from, no editing to be done — and hell, the stories being chased could be dealt with only once the sun went down.
The coffee in her hands provides a warmth which soothes a wounded soul – Jonathon bailing on their plans, Jonathon pulling away, both of them drifting apart – as awful as it feels, Nancy’s nightmares demand attention on matters far more important. And yes, perhaps it’s foolish of her to have wandered so far into the woods on her own, but really — what more was there to be afraid of?
Barb.
An invisible frost calls Hawkins home since the loss of her best friend.
(her fault.)
The expression on Nancy's face is pained — even while she sips ( the cinnamon near tasteless —) her shaking fingers are trying to squeeze the cup just hard enough so the contents won’t spill over.
(always living on the edge now, right, Wheeler?)
On the outside, there isn’t anything very special about Hawkins Lab; sure, it’s guarded, the high fences and cameras off-putting — but there’s nothing to warn people about the level of bullshit they’ve subjected everyone to.
(that Nancy has vowed to burn this lab at its very foundation need not be said.)
Blue eyes are molten while she appraises the building from afar, the approach of someone else almost going unnoticed.
(almost.)
The brush of moisture away from eyes is second-nature.
❝ — sorry, shit. I didn’t think anyone else would be here. ❞
The day had started off like any other; deadlines in need of work, students engaged in vapid chatter, stories explored and abandoned because no, the paper did not need another editorial about some losing sports game.
It was supposed to be just another ‘x’ on her calendar – until Nancy noted the date.
(she should know better by now – happiness is fleeting, normalcy a façade.)
— she's noticed Henry’s mannerisms shift – confidence exchanged for a skittishness unbefitting of his once-calm exterior; this, more than anything, is what dips her blood in dread.
( but he’s not alone anymore. he has you. )
So?
Her footsteps are soft when she enters the other’s home; the smallest of sounds, she fears, will shatter whatever reality has been conjured.
Clung to.
❝ Henry? ❞
The bedroom is dark, but Nancy can still see the shivering form of the other beneath the covers. Paranoia, she thinks, is one hell of a drug.
❝ —I’m coming in. ❞
It’s taken no time at all to cross over to him, warm fingers offering the gentlest of touches to Henry’s covered shoulder. This has to be done carefully, or god, this will get worse.
❝ It’s me, it’s Nancy – I’m here, and you – you're alright. You’re safe. ❞
