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Things were going too well.
Dustin should have known. They all should have known that Vecna had something else up his sleeve.
But they were too caught up in the euphoria of winning, of kicking that monster’s ass, and they took their collective minds off of his master plan for one second.
One second.
Too long.
Vecna had laughed his sickening, evil laugh, and announced that he would be unveiling his secret Weapon. There had been something horrible in his voice. Something poisonous in the way he’d quipped, almost like an afterthought, that the Weapon was banished no longer.
Now, one by one, the group turns to face the disappearing fog behind them. All at once, they lay eyes on the figure stepping out of the mist.
Robin gasps. Steve almost drops his nail bat.
Dustin’s world crumbles into pieces.
An anguished scream tears its way up from his throat. Every emotion that he’s been burying for months festers in the pit of his stomach, consuming him from the inside out, begging to be released. He swallows them back.
He wants to run. He wants to die. He’s rooted to the spot.
Brushing off its torn vest, the Weapon gives a fanged grin. Its glowing red eyes flicker to each member of the group in turn, finally landing on Dustin. “Henderson,” it snarls, voice like burning coals.
Dustin doubles over and pukes up his lunch on the dead ground.
The Weapon takes a step closer. The ground turns black under its combat boots. “You once told me, promised me, that you would never change. Yet look at you now - a sniveling, terrified shell of your former self. Too scared to face me.”
The smell of Dustin’s vomit burns his nostrils.
Lightning fast, an ice-cold hand shoots out and grabs his chin. “Look at me.” The Weapon yanks Dustin’s head up.
Dustin meets its eyes - its awful, crimson eyes - and his knees give out. The only thing keeping him upright is the Weapon’s vice-like grip.
“Look at me,” it says again. “Look at what you made me, Dustin.”
Dustin gives a hitching sob, eyes aching with tears. “No,” he chokes.
“Yes.” The Weapon laughs. It’s like dead leaves. “Yes.” At once, it lets go, shoving Dustin to the ground hard enough to bruise. “You let me die. You let him turn me into this. And now you must face the consequences of your inaction.”
Steve is helping Dustin up, pulling him to his feet, but nothing matters. Nothing matters except for the thing in Eddie’s body, possessing it like a demon, wearing his skin as a costume. “You’re not Eddie,” says Dustin, wet.
The Weapon’s eyes go dark, something abruptly killing the red glow. It freezes where it stands for several seconds.
“Yeah,” Steve calls, “you’re not Eddie, so stop pretending to be him. He was a hero. You’re a monster.”
The Weapon flinches, as if wounded, as if Steve’s words somehow cut deep. It blinks. Slowly, gradually, it refocuses its gaze on Dustin.
A cold and nauseating tidal wave crashes upon Dustin’s skin. He knows that gaze. That is not the gaze of a Weapon.
“I’m sorry,” whispers the Weapon brokenly, only it’s not a Weapon right now. It’s-
“Eddie?” Dustin slips out of Steve’s grip, inching closer to the figure in front of him.
The Eddie-thing gives a violent jerk, and suddenly its eyes are ablaze again. “Your Eddie isn’t here anymore,” it growls. A jarring change of tactic - had it not just been pretending to be Eddie? Why take a different approach now?
I’m sorry, it had said, in a voice so familiar Dustin hears it in his sleep sometimes. Eddie’s voice. Not burning coals, not dead leaves, but Eddie’s voice. The same voice that said I didn’t run away this time, right? and I love you, man.
“Yes he is.” Dustin straightens up, something burning in him that he hasn’t felt in months. “Yes he is, I saw him. Eddie.”
At the name, the Weapon’s eyes go brown again, blinking scared. They’re so painfully human all of a sudden. “Henderson?”
“I’m here! Eddie, I’m here!” Before anyone can stop him, Dustin surges forward and grabs Eddie’s wrists. “Fight it! Please!”
Eddie’s mouth twists into a grimace. His eyes flicker red, then go back to brown. “I can’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “Dustin. Get away, I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you. Please, I can’t stop him.” He gives Dustin a harsh shove back, and his eyes are red once more.
“Eddie.” Dustin whimpers, shrinking away. He looks to the Weapon’s spiked shield, to its razor sharp fangs, and his heart shrinks down to nothing in his chest. He knows this Weapon - he’s seen it illustrated in all its glory, heard its tale of redemption straight from Eddie’s mouth.
Dustin stands tall. “Kas,” he declares. “Kas the Bloody-Handed.”
It seems a lot less scary, somehow, with a name.
Kas’s eyes darken almost imperceptibly before flashing red again. A pleased sneer curls up on its lips. “You may call me whatever you want,” it says, “but that does not change the fact that you will all die tonight.”
“It’s crazy,” Steve mutters under his breath. “It looks so much like Eddie.”
“It is Eddie.” Dustin gulps. “It’s Eddie’s body, this- Kas is just… possessing it. But Eddie’s still in there. Like- it’s like Smeagol and Gollum.”
Beside him, Lucas adjusts his grip on his spear, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, like-” He turns to Max. “You know how in Lord of the Rings, there’s that little goblin guy? He used to be a Hobbit just like Frodo, but he was corrupted. So now the two halves of his consciousness - the good half, Smeagol, and the bad half, Gollum - have to kind of fight for dominance.”
Dustin looks at Kas, really looks at it. Looks at the skull and crossbones bandana loose on its head, at the raw patches on its face and neck and chest where bats have bitten away the skin, at the three metal rings on its left hand. Those are all Eddie things. With the menacing red eyes and the fangs that poke past its lips, there’s dissonance. A mismatch between the Eddie-ness and the Kas-ness of it all.
Dustin tries to ready his spear, but his muscles won’t work. Won’t see this Weapon, this evil creature, as anything other than Eddie Munson.
Kas swings its sword in a lazy arc.
Dustin’s fingers loosen. His weapon clatters to the ground.
“Dustin,” Steve warns.
I love you, man. It had come from that mouth, those lungs. Dustin had held this body as it choked and died.
It’s his Eddie. His Eddie, and he can’t fight it.
He tells it as much.
“Oh my god,” Steve says flatly. “We don’t have time for this.” He’s trying to sound annoyed, but there’s a sour fear creeping into his voice.
“I won’t fight you,” Dustin repeats. He takes one step forward, then another. “I know Eddie is still in there.”
Kas’s neck twitches, veins popping out. Its scarlet eyes extinguish, leaving Eddie shining through. “Please,” he mouths. It’s clear that it’s taking a great deal of effort for him to speak. “Dustin- please. You have to-”
“No.” Dustin brings his hands up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheeks. “Eddie, I won’t. I won’t. I can’t.”
A bolt of lightning crackles in the sky. The ground rumbles underneath Dustin’s feet, but he stays standing, holding onto Eddie like that’s the only thing that matters.
Eddie fights to stay in control. One tear trickles down his bloody face, wetting Dustin’s thumb. “You have to kill me.”
Thunder claps. It’s muffled through the fog in Dustin’s ears. He’s been sliced open from head to toe, unraveling like a spool of thread. “No.”
“You have to,” Eddie pleads. “Kill me. I can’t hold him-”
And Kas is back, bringing his icy hands to Dustin’s face and wiping away tears.
“Get off of me!” Dustin ducks away, swallowing back a fresh wave of vomit. “You’re not Eddie! He’s in there, but you’re not him!”
Kas towers over Dustin, seeming so much taller than Eddie ever was. “If I’m not him,” it purrs, “then you should have no trouble fighting me.”
Dustin scrabbles on the ground, fingers closing around the handle of his spear. Venom floods his veins. “You let him go!” he cries, brandishing the weapon. The tip touches Kas’s nose.
It laughs. “Finally.” With a flourish, it whips out its own sword. “To the death, Henderson. May the best man win.”
Dustin is a child, and Kas is a Weapon, and neither of them are men, but Dustin fights anyway. He charges, letting out a battle cry.
Kas dodges at the last second. Dustin falls to the ground.
“A pathetic first attempt,” it tuts, nudging at Dustin’s prone form with its blade. “Now get up. Again.” It turns, sweeping its sword towards the group. “And if anyone tries to stop me, I will slay you all before you register the pain.”
Dustin rolls over onto his back, panting, staring up into the face that is so Eddie and so not Eddie at the same time - a gut-churning amalgamation of the kindly person he knew and the malicious creature that stands before him.
Slowly, he climbs to his feet, spear poised. “I don’t want to kill you,” he says, broken. “I just want Eddie back. Please.”
Kas’s eyes lose their fire as Eddie takes over for a brief moment. “I’m gone,” he manages. “You have to kill me. Kill us.” Then Kas is back, looking for all the world like he’s just won a war.
“Eddie isn’t gone.” Dustin swings his spear at Kas, wilting only a bit when Kas effortlessly blocks it. “You tried to kill him, but he’s too strong. He’s still in there - fighting you. I bet that makes you angry.”
Kas growls, lunging at Dustin and missing by a fraction of an inch.
“I bet that just-” Dustin swings his spear again, and this time it connects, smacking Kas on the arm. “I bet that just pisses you off.”
“He is weak,” roars Kas. “He’s too weak to live. His consciousness may still exist, but only to watch you die.” It thrusts its sword and catches the hem of Dustin’s jacket, yanking it off.
Dustin moves out of the way, wincing as Kas stabs at the thing again and again, sending down swirling throughout the air. “He’s stronger than you’ll ever be!”
Kas stiffens. As if strengthened by Dustin’s words, Eddie takes control. “Keep it up,” he hisses desperately. “Kill us.”
Dustin’s courage dwindles at the plea. It hurts more than anything.
Kas comes back with a yell. All of a sudden, it doesn’t look angry. It looks terrified. “No, Dustin,” it says, voice weirdly softer. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“Fuck you!” Dustin lunges, hitting Kas in the chest. It stumbles backward. “You don’t get to use Eddie’s body and Eddie’s face against me. You don’t get to ruin him like this. He’s my best friend.”
The fire flickers out of Kas’s eyes. Eddie comes back. “I’m so proud of you,” he says. “Don’t be scared. It’ll be okay.”
Dustin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He calls upon every memory of Eddie that lives inside him.
Campaigns. Trips to the drive-in. Rides to school when Dustin missed the bus. The most metal concert in the history of the world. Fighting swarms of demo-bats.
When he opens his eyes, Kas is staring back at him.
“I’m stronger than you,” Dustin says, swinging his spear. It collides with Kas’s kneecaps; there’s a sickening crunch, and Kas cries out, stabbing at Dustin’s head but missing. “Eddie is stronger than you.”
“W-Why are you doing this?” Kas whimpers, trembling. It’s trying its hardest to make Dustin feel pity, to make Dustin scared, but it’s never going to succeed again.
Yes, it has Eddie’s face. Yes, it has Eddie’s hair, and Eddie’s clothes, and is trying its hardest to mimic Eddie’s voice.
But it isn’t Eddie.
“I’m doing what Eddie wants,” seethes Dustin, “and you are not him.”
Kas swings its blade, grazing Dustin’s arm. “I trusted you, Dustin,” it says, voice growing impossibly distorted. “Don’t hurt me.”
New rage erupts in Dustin’s heart. The stinging pain in his arm dissipates. With one fell swoop, he knocks the sword out of Kas’s hand. It screams in agony as Dustin kicks it square in the injured knee, sending it falling on its ass.
Maybe the others are cheering him on. He can’t tell over the blood rushing in his ears.
He presses his foot down on Kas’s chest, keeping it pinned. Lucky for him, Kas is confined to the limits of Eddie’s body, and Eddie wasn’t very athletic when he was alive - even less so now that he’s been sedentary for months. Kas isn’t strong enough to budge his foot, no matter how much it tries.
“Please,” Kas cries, red eyes swimming with crocodile tears. “I loved you.”
Dustin presses down harder with his heel, feeling brittle ribs crack under his weight. “I loved him,” he says. “And you took him away from me.”
Kas’s head falls backwards onto the ground. It stops struggling, and instead lets out a bitter, burbling laugh. “You won’t do it,” it leers. “You won’t kill me. You can’t look into the face of your best friend and drive a blade through his heart.”
Dustin gets down on his knees, straddling the Weapon. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches to the side and grabs Kas’s sword. “You’re wrong,” he says, poising the blade over its collarbone.
And abruptly, something rushes his throat.
His hands, numb and shaking, grip the handle so hard that his knuckles turn white. He prepares to push the blade in.
But he can’t do it.
The blazing anger that has been devouring him suddenly dies down to a simmer. And looking into Kas’s face, he feels nothing but grief.
He hears Bad, huh? He hears You’re gonna have to look after the little sheep for me, okay? He hears I think it’s my year, Henderson. I think it’s finally my year.
He hears everything Eddie has ever said to him, and he can’t deal the final blow.
Kas has gone silent, smirking at him with satisfaction alight in its eyes.
Dustin feels everyone’s stares. He feels their disappointment. He hears words being said, called to him, but they can’t break through the shroud that has been draped over his body.
I’m sorry, Eddie, he thinks, wishing more than anything that Kas would swallow him whole. The blade stays pressing into the skin below its neck, drawing dark blood, but Dustin cannot find the strength to push it down.
And then Kas’s eyes extinguish. All of a sudden, it’s Eddie looking up at Dustin.
Dustin has a blade to Eddie’s chest, and Eddie looks up at him, trusting and open.
The world - if there is one anymore - stops turning.
Misty-eyed, Eddie grins.
“You can do it.”
Dustin chokes out a sob. He wants to look at the sky, the ground, Vecna, anywhere but at his brother’s peaceful gaze. But he can’t. He can’t tear himself away.
“I don’t want to.” Tears drip down his cheeks and fall onto Eddie’s torn Hellfire shirt. “Eddie, please. Please. I can’t.”
Eddie fights to lift his hand up to Dustin’s face, cupping it. “You can. You can. It’s what I want, kid. It’s what I need. Vecna - Kas - is in me, and he’s not letting go. I know you can do it, because it’s the right thing, and you always do the right thing.” He draws in a trembling breath.
He’s still smiling.
“I just got you back,” Dustin cries, warm tears a stark contrast against Eddie’s icy hand. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
Eddie’s eyes shine even in the dim light. “You are the bravest and smartest fucking kid I’ve ever known, Dustin Henderson. It was an honor to fight alongside you.” He brings his hand down on top of Dustin’s, gently guiding the sword until the tip ghosts against the space between two of his ribs. “Here. It’ll be easier in this spot. No bone to get through.”
The shattered kneecap and broken ribs are clearly making him suffer, based on the way he’s struggling to breathe through the pain, but he’s trying his best to hide it.
“I don’t want to hurt you any more.” Dustin watches as Eddie’s hand slips from his and falls to his side.
“It’s gonna fucking suck,” Eddie says with a short laugh. “But I trust you to do it quick.”
Dustin says nothing, shoulders hitching in silent sobs. He memorizes how Eddie’s face looks for the last time.
Eddie swallows. “Make him pay?” The smile lingers on his lips.
One of Dustin’s hands uncurls from around the base of the sword and comes up to Eddie’s head, petting his hair. “Make him pay,” he confirms, throat so tight he can barely speak. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” whispers Eddie.
Dustin breathes in.
Make him pay.
Dustin breathes out.
I love you too.
Dustin pushes with all his might.
In his mind, he sees Eddie, coming over to him in the cafeteria on the second day of freshman year. Dustin is wearing a Weird Al T-shirt and Eddie is raising one ringed finger to point square at his chest. Eddie’s curls are bathed like baby Jesus in the sunlight streaming from the windows, like he’s a saint coming to Dustin’s rescue, and he is.
Someone is screaming. Dustin joins them.
In his mind, he sees Eddie, rolling a D20 in slow motion with a devilish smile on his face. It’s the culmination of his first campaign with Hellfire, and Dustin is ready to deal the killing blow to the Big Bad of the week. But he rolls a 7 instead, and dies a forgettable death, and Eddie laughs and laughs. Eddie was always laughing.
Dustin pushes the blade down further and keeps screaming. Somewhere along the line Eddie’s eyes have gone an angry red again.
The blade meets bone.
A terrible, agonized noise escapes from Kas’s throat. Its eyes are the most intense shade Dustin’s ever seen, burning brighter than the fires of Hell. “You,” it seethes, suddenly so weak.
“I’m sorry,” says Dustin. He doesn’t mean it. Not to Kas.
His knees are wet with blood. He pulls the sword out with a wet squelch and tosses it aside.
Kas moans, convulsing, before all too quickly going still. Dustin thinks for a bit that he wishes Kas had suffered more. Then he remembers who else would have been suffering, and hates himself.
The fire in Kas’s eyes fades out until there’s no trace; its fangs melt away to nothingness.
The world has gone quiet. The world has gone dim.
“Eddie?” Dustin’s voice is small. He thinks maybe if he’s too loud it will become real.
Eddie’s eyelids flutter. He looks up at Dustin, blinking away tears. When he finally registers the face hovering over him, he smiles. “You did it.”
Dustin wants to scream until he has no breath left in his lungs, but he can’t, not while Eddie is like this. So he reaches into the depths of his soul and inhales all the peace he can find. It’s crushing. It’s necessary.
He gets an arm under Eddie and takes him into his lap, cradling him just like he did all those months ago. “Yeah,” he says, sniffling. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t.” Eddie gives a minute shake of his head. “No sorries. I’m so, I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, little sheep.” A painful smile twitches onto his lips.
The others, maybe, are gathered around them. Watching Eddie and Dustin like it’s a Greek play. Dustin wishes it were only a play. Wishes that he and Eddie were only actors, that the blood was fake, that they could stand up at the end and take their bows.
But it’s all real. And time, as it does, crawls on.
Dustin doesn’t know how to do anything except cry, and so that’s what he does. He strokes Eddie’s curls with bloody fingers. “I’m sorry,” he says again, unable to stop himself. “Eddie, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I’m-”
With all his strength, Eddie reaches up and touches Dustin’s cheek. His hands are still freezing cold, but not inhumanly so. “Say sorry one more time and I’ll puke blood all over your shirt.”
Despite himself, Dustin manages a laugh, even though it’s not funny. His shirt is already soaked with Eddie’s blood.
He can feel eyes boring into his head. The pity in the air is palpable.
The urge to apologize eats at Dustin again, gnaws at him like a mouse on a cereal box, but he takes one look at Eddie’s plaintive face and knows what he needs to hear instead. “I love you.” Each word is like claws scraping down his throat. It’s worth it with the way it makes Eddie light up.
“I love you too.” Eddie leans his head slightly, pressing it into Dustin’s touch. “You’re-. You’re my brother. To the end.”
“Brothers,” Dustin agrees, choking on the word. He folds over and kisses Eddie lightly on the forehead. The skin is damp with sweat and foggy with blood, but as Dustin sits back up and sees the wondrous smile on Eddie’s face, he knows it was the right thing.
The others are kneeling, and Lucas and Mike are saying their goodbyes, and Steve has one hand on Dustin’s shoulder and the other hand brushing hair behind Eddie’s ear, and it’s all happening a hundred miles away.
Everyone is looking at Eddie. Eddie is still looking at Dustin, eyebrows knitted together like he’s thinking really hard about something.
“If,” he starts, and then coughs jaggedly. “If I was going to die by anyone’s hand, I’m glad it was yours, Henderson.”
Dustin shakes his head. He leans down, kisses Eddie’s hair again, straightens. “Don’t say that.”
Eddie just gives him a look.
Dustin doesn’t know what it means.
“It didn’t even hurt,” says Eddie, but the way his voice is thready and weak says otherwise.
Dustin adjusts his grip, holding Eddie tighter, trying to transfer every ounce of love and warmth he has in his body. “I don’t know what to do.”
Eddie sighs. He sighs, all contented like he’s relaxing on a hammock on a warm summer evening and not dying in the arms of his little brother. “You did so good, Dustin. Just hold me,” he says. “Just hold me, okay?”
And fuck, what can Dustin do but comply?
“Thank you for killing him.” Eddie blinks. His eyelids are drooping. “And thank you for doing it fast. And thank you for being here with me.”
There are so many people surrounding them. Why does Dustin feel like they’re alone?
“I’m so proud of you. Never forget that, okay? So proud. And it’s okay, okay?” Eddie manages a smile. Despite everything, he manages a smile, and it rips Dustin to pieces.
“It’s not-”
“It is,” Eddie cuts him off. “It is okay. Because I’ll always love you, and I’ll always be your brother.” His breath shakes a little bit like some weak attempt at a laugh. “Hey, I’ll try to come back and haunt you, alright? I’ll change all your rolls to Nat 1s and you’ll know it’s me.”
Which is, really, such an Eddie thing to say. It aches.
“Rude,” says Dustin, wiping his nose on his shoulder.
Eddie tries again at a laugh, and succeeds a bit more. “Fine, fine. Nat 20s, then.”
Dustin nods. “That’s fair,” he says, then focuses all his strength on trying not to want to stab himself with the sword.
“Yeah.” Eddie closes his eyes, his big, soulful brown eyes, and Dustin knows they will never open again. “Do me a favor?”
Dustin takes Eddie’s cold hand in his and rubs warmth back into it. “Anything.”
“Tell Wayne I died a hero? Want him to be proud of me.” Eddie’s labored breaths are growing ragged in his chest.
Dustin bows his head. “I promise,” he whispers, two words harder than any other that he’s spoken in his life. “I love you, Eddie.”
He waits for an I love you, too.
He waits.
He waits.
It never comes.