Chapter 21: Christmas Healing
POV: Adam
December arrives with snow that transforms Hawkins into something almost peaceful, white silence muffling the echoes of November's horrors until the town looks like a postcard someone might send to relatives who've never heard of interdimensional monsters or government conspiracies. The Byers house still hums with trauma—Will's nightmares, Joyce's hypervigilance, Jonathan's protective hovering—but underneath the careful watchfulness, something warmer stirs.
Hope, maybe. Or just the stubborn human need to find light in darkness.
Adam sits at the kitchen table, watching Joyce attack a box of Christmas decorations with the determined enthusiasm of someone who's decided that normalcy is a choice rather than a circumstance. She pulls out strings of lights that have been tangled into what appears to be a Gordian knot of seasonal frustration, muttering under her breath about whoever packed them away last year.
That would have been her. Last Christmas, when Will was just another twelve-year-old boy who worried about bullies instead of feeding tentacles.
"I need reinforcements," Joyce announces, holding up the light-string like evidence of a crime against holiday spirit. "Boys! Emergency decorating situation!"
Will emerges from his room wrapped in blankets that make him look even smaller than usual, his recovery progressing in increments measured by how many hours he can stay upright before exhaustion claims him. Jonathan follows with coffee that's probably his fourth cup of the morning, camera hanging around his neck because he's taken to documenting every moment of Will's return like proof that miracles can be permanent.
"Mom, you know those lights haven't worked since 1979," Jonathan says with fond exasperation. "We should probably just buy new ones."
"These lights have sentimental value," Joyce replies with the kind of maternal authority that doesn't brook argument. "They've been with this family for years. We're not giving up on them now."
Everything in this house has sentimental value. Every chipped mug and faded photograph represents survival against odds that should have been impossible.
Adam volunteers for light-untangling duty because it gives his hands something to do while his mind processes the domestic rituals he's never experienced. In his previous life, Michael Thompson's Christmases had been sterile affairs—expensive gifts exchanged with minimal emotional investment, traditions performed out of obligation rather than joy. And Subject 017's brief existence had known only laboratory fluorescents and the kind of winter that exists independent of seasons.
"You're doing it wrong," Will observes from his position on the couch, wrapped in Joyce's old robe and looking like a medieval monk who's survived plague through sheer stubbornness. "You have to follow the pattern. See? This section goes under, then over, then through the loop Jonathan made with his elbow."
"I didn't make a loop with my elbow," Jonathan protests. "That's just how my arm is shaped."
"Your arm is shaped weird," Will says with the casual cruelty of siblings who love each other enough to speak truth without consequences.
Adam laughs despite himself, the sound surprising in its genuineness. These people—his family, his mind corrects with still-startling ease—make humor out of exhaustion and hope out of tangled Christmas lights. There's something miraculous in their ability to find normal in the aftermath of impossible.
That's when he makes his mistake.
"I've never done this before," Adam says without thinking. "The whole Christmas decoration thing, I mean."
The room goes quiet in the way that only happens when someone accidentally reveals a wound they didn't mean to show. Joyce looks up from the box of ornaments she's been sorting, her expression shifting from holiday enthusiasm to maternal concern in the space between one breath and the next.
"Never?" she asks gently. "Not even in foster care?"
Careful. Don't make them feel worse about your fictional tragic backstory.
"The places I was... they weren't really the Christmas type," Adam says carefully. "More like 'here's a candy cane, don't expect miracles' operations."
Joyce's eyes fill with tears that she doesn't quite let fall, but Adam can see the maternal rage building behind her carefully controlled expression. The idea that any child—her child, now—might have spent Christmases without magic or wonder or the simple joy of belonging somewhere safe hits her like a personal attack.
"Well," she says with the kind of determination that has historically moved mountains and retrieved sons from nightmare dimensions, "we're going to fix that. Right now. This is going to be the best Christmas you've ever had, because it's your first real Christmas."
She means it. She actually means it.
Jonathan catches Adam's eye and grins with shared understanding. They've both learned to recognize this particular brand of Joyce Byers determination—the kind that transforms obstacles into opportunities and makes the impossible feel inevitable.
"Should we warn him about Mom's Christmas cookie experiments?" Jonathan asks Will in a stage whisper. "The great gingerbread disaster of '79?"
"Those cookies were perfectly edible," Joyce protests. "They were just... structurally challenged."
"They were hockey pucks, Mom," Will says with gentle affection. "Adam, never let her near cookie dough without supervision."
This is what family sounds like. This gentle teasing that carries love in every word.
The afternoon passes in a blur of domestic chaos that feels like the best kind of therapy. They hang stockings that have seen better decades, arrange ornaments with the careful reverence of people handling family heirlooms, and engage in heated debates about proper tree-topping technique that result in Joyce standing on a chair while three males provide conflicting advice about angel placement.
When Will quietly asks Adam what he wants for Christmas, the question catches him completely off guard.
"Nothing, really," Adam says automatically, the response of someone who's learned not to want things that might disappear.
"Everyone wants something," Will persists with the gentle stubbornness that apparently runs in the Byers genetic code. "Even if it's small. Even if it's stupid."
What do I want? What could I possibly want that I don't already have?
"I just want to stay here," Adam admits finally. "With you guys. That's all I've ever wanted."
Will's smile could power the Christmas lights currently draped around the living room. "Well, that's free, so I'm still getting you something." He leans closer, voice dropping to conspiratorial whisper. "What does Mom like? I need ideas because Jonathan's useless at gifts and I'm still too weak to go shopping by myself."
He's including me. He's asking for my help with family traditions like I belong here.
They spend the next hour planning gifts with the serious concentration of military strategists, Will sharing stories about past Christmases and family traditions while Adam soaks up information about how normal families create memories. It's an education in belonging that no foster placement manual could provide.
That evening, Hopper arrives with an armful of presents and the kind of awkward enthusiasm that suggests someone who's recently discovered the joy of having people to buy gifts for. He plays Santa with gruff dedication, distributing packages while maintaining the facade that he's only here for official business.
"Joyce is doing the paperwork to make you official," he tells Adam quietly while the others debate whether eggnog is a legitimate beverage or a holiday conspiracy. "Adoption, not just foster. You good with that?"
Official. Legal. Permanent.
Adam's throat closes around words that feel too large for his borrowed voice. "Yeah. I'm good with that."
"Good," Hopper says, nodding with satisfaction. "Because she needs you as much as you need her. And Will—that kid's been through hell, but having you around has made him stronger. More like himself again."
I helped. Somehow, just by existing here, I helped Will heal.
"But," Hopper continues, his voice carrying the weight of warning wrapped in acceptance, "don't make me regret not investigating you deeper. This family's been through enough. They deserve peace."
He knows there are secrets. He's choosing to let them lie.
"I won't hurt them," Adam promises, meaning it with every fiber of his transmigrated soul. "They're everything to me."
Hopper nods once, satisfied with whatever he sees in Adam's expression. "Then we understand each other."
[JOYCE BYERS RELATIONSHIP: ADOPTIVE MOTHER (95%)]
[HOPPER RELATIONSHIP: PROTECTIVE FATHER FIGURE (60%)]
[WILL BYERS RELATIONSHIP: TRUE BROTHER (90%)]
[HOLIDAY QUEST COMPLETED: EXPERIENCE FAMILY (+1000 XP)]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: UNSHAKEABLE LOYALTY]
[CANNOT BETRAY FAMILY MEMBERS UNDER ANY INFLUENCE]
Christmas morning arrives with the kind of excited chaos that only exists in houses where children believe in magic and adults remember what it felt like to be surprised by joy. Adam wakes to Will shaking him with barely contained enthusiasm, bouncing on the edge of the bed like a kid half his age who's forgotten that grown-ups prefer sleep to presents.
"It's Christmas! It's Christmas and Mom made pancakes and there are presents and Jonathan's being weird about his camera but good weird, not scary weird!"
He's happy. Will Byers is genuinely, completely happy.
For the first time in two lifetimes, Adam experiences the beautiful chaos of family gift-giving—wrapping paper flying, exclamations of delight, the particular joy that comes from watching someone open something you picked out specifically for them. Joyce cries when she opens the photo album Jonathan and Adam conspired to create, filled with pictures of Will's homecoming and first family moments that prove healing is possible.
Will's gift to Adam is a hand-drawn comic book titled "The Adventures of the Monster Whisperer," featuring a twelve-year-old hero who commands creatures from another dimension in defense of his family and friends. The artwork is detailed and loving, showing Adam's creatures as noble guardians rather than nightmares, Scout depicted with almost photographic accuracy despite Will having never seen him clearly.
He knows. Somehow, he knows exactly what my creatures mean to me.
"How did you..." Adam starts, then trails off as Will grins with satisfaction.
"I pay attention," Will says simply. "And I'm really good at drawing things I've only seen in dreams."
He remembers. Despite everything, he remembers my creatures guiding his rescue.
That night, as they clean up wrapping paper and put away presents that will become treasured family memories, Adam realizes something has fundamentally shifted. The Byers house no longer feels like a safe haven he's borrowed—it feels like home in a way that transcends legal documents or official adoption papers.
This is what belonging feels like. This is what it means to be chosen.
Through the window, Scout sends waves of contentment from his position in the woods, the creature's simple joy reflecting Adam's own emotional state. They're pack now, all of them—human and Upside Down native alike, bound together by loyalty that transcends species and love that makes impossible things feel inevitable.
I'm home. Finally, permanently, unshakeably home.
And for the first time since waking up in Subject 017's body, Adam falls asleep on Christmas night without worrying about tomorrow, secure in the knowledge that some gifts are too precious to ever be taken away.
+1 CHAPTER AFTER EVERY 3 REVIEWS
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ] with exclusive access to 25+ chapters on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!