Chapter 90: The Possession - Part 2
Billy
The knock came at 11 PM on July 4th. I almost didn't answer—late, unexpected, probably Neil being an asshole.
But I looked through the peephole. Heather Holloway stood there, smiling.
Wrong smile. Too wide. Eyes too dark.
Steve's warning echoed: "When you feel something wrong, call me."
"Heather?" I called through the door. "You okay?"
"I'm perfect, Billy. Come with me. There's somewhere I want to show you."
Her voice was right. But everything else was wrong. Posture too stiff, head tilted wrong angle, eyes reflecting wrong in the porch light.
"It's late. Maybe tomorrow?"
"No. Tonight. Please, Billy. Come with me." She reached for the doorknob. "You'll love it. Everyone does."
Possession. This is what Steve warned about.
I backed away from the door. "Sorry, Heather. Not tonight."
She left after five minutes of knocking, pleading, promising. I watched through the window as she walked toward her car with wrong-jointed movements.
Then I called Steve.
Steve
Billy's call came at 11:47 PM, right after I'd returned from the steel works confrontation.
"Harrington. Something's wrong with Heather. She tried to visit me tonight, wanted me to come with her somewhere. But her eyes were... wrong. Black. Like you described." His voice held fear and relief simultaneously. "I remembered what you said. Didn't go."
Relief flooded through me so intensely I had to sit down. "You did exactly right. She's possessed. Would have taken you to the steel works, tried to add you to the biomass."
"So it was real. Everything you warned about."
"Yeah. And you're still you because you listened. You trusted me enough to recognize the threat." My voice cracked. "Thank you, Billy. For believing me. For being smart enough to survive."
"Don't get emotional on me, Harrington."
"Too late. Already emotional." I collected myself. "You need protection. Mind Flayer might try again—send other hosts, or come for you directly as leverage against me."
"I can handle myself—"
"Against possessed humans with superhuman strength and coordination? No you can't. None of us can without backup." I called Hopper on three-way. "Chief, Billy needs protective watch. Mind Flayer tried recruiting him tonight."
Hopper
"Protective watch for Billy Hargrove. Never thought I'd hear those words."
"Times change. He's potential host and my friend. Mind Flayer knows both things, might target him." Steve's exhaustion was audible. "Can you coordinate with the Mayfields? Get them somewhere safe?"
"Already working on it. Joyce and Bob are setting up safe house at the Byers'. We can fit Billy and Max there." I checked my notes. "What about you? If this thing is specifically hunting you—"
"I stay visible. Draw its attention away from everyone else. That's the plan."
"That's a suicide plan."
"It's a tactical sacrifice plan. Difference." He hung up before I could argue.
Max
Billy woke me at midnight. "Pack a bag. We're staying at the Byers' place for a few days."
"Why?"
"Because something tried to possess me tonight and Steve Harrington saved my life by warning me weeks ago." He shoved clothes into a duffel bag. "I know it sounds insane. But it's true. And we need to stay somewhere safe while Steve and his crazy friends fight monsters."
I stared at him. "You believe Steve now."
"I saw proof. Heather Holloway with black eyes, moving wrong, trying to lure me somewhere. Everything Steve warned about." Billy's hands shook. "I'm scared, Max. Actually scared. Not angry-scared. Just scared."
I hugged him. He stiffened, then relaxed into it.
"Steve will protect us," I said. "He always does."
"Yeah. He does." Billy grabbed his keys. "Let's go."
Steve
Dawn broke over Hawkins July 5th. I sat in my car outside the steel works, watching the biomass pulse through broken windows.
Heather was fully integrated now. The anchor for the Spider Monster's formation. In canonical timeline, she'd been one of many hosts. But I'd saved Billy, changed the targeting pattern.
Butterfly effect. Changed one thing, created new variables. Better in some ways—Billy's alive and free. Worse in others—Mind Flayer knows I'm anomaly, hunting me specifically.
My phone buzzed. Robin: "Billy and Max secured at Byers' house. Everyone else on alert. Russian infiltration in two days. You need sleep."
"Can't sleep. Mind Flayer building physical form. Russians warming up gate key. Two apocalypses."
"You're one person, Steve."
"I'm the only person with meta-knowledge and abilities. That makes me responsible."
"That makes you vulnerable to messianic complex."
I smiled despite exhaustion. Robin always called my bullshit.
"Two days. We infiltrate Russian base, destroy the gate key, cut off Mind Flayer's reinforcement route. Then we deal with the biomass."
"And if you die in the process?"
"Then Protocol Omega activates and you all continue without me. I've prepared for that."
"Steve—"
"I know. But it's the truth. I might not survive this. Hell, probably won't survive this. But everyone else will. That's the deal."
Chrissy
Found Steve in his car outside the steel works at 7 AM. He looked like hell—exhausted, corruption scars bright red, Phase 3 tension in every muscle.
"You didn't come home," I said, climbing into the passenger seat.
"Couldn't. Had to monitor the biomass, coordinate protective measures, plan the Russian infiltration." He touched his scars. "And the Mind Flayer knows something's wrong with me. Wants to dissect me, understand what I am. I'm primary target now."
"Then we protect you—"
"No. I draw fire away from everyone else. That's always been the plan." He looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm the anomaly. The transmigrator. The one with foreknowledge. That makes me weapon and target simultaneously. The Mind Flayer wants me because I'm dangerous to it."
"And if it catches you?"
"It won't. Because I've been preparing for four years to prevent exactly that." He started the car. "Come on. We have Russian base to infiltrate in forty-eight hours. Need to finalize plans."
I watched him drive, this boy-not-boy who'd sacrificed his humanity to save everyone repeatedly. The corruption scars glowed faint red in morning light, permanent marks of his choices.
Please survive this, I prayed. Please let all this preparation be enough.
But deep down, I knew the truth: Steve had prepared for victory or death. He was ready for both.
And that terrified me more than any monster.
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