Chapter Text
“Am I dead?” he asks Nana after she tells him to come closer and make himself useful. He grabs an egg, cracks it and lets its content fall into the bowl while she slowly beats it into the sugar and butter mixture.
“Yes and no,” Nana says, then points at the vanilla extract and lemon juice.
Billy frowns, confused, and adds them to the mixture. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re somewhere in-between.”
Billy looks around. The kitchen looks exactly how he remembers it, down to the sunflower pattern on the curtains above the sink and the ugly salt dough blob encrusted with shells he made for her when he was five or six, sitting proudly on the kitchen counter. Nana looks like she just walked out of one of his memories too and her voice sounds the same.
“Don’t get distracted now,” Nana scolds him gently and Billy blinks at her, then follows her gaze to the bowl containing what he knows is a mix of flour, baking powder and lemon zest. He grabs it and starts slowly adding some while she keeps mixing.
“So, what, do I get to decide or something?”
“Or something,” Nana hums.
“Thanks, that’s really useful,” Billy snaps and puts the bowl down to grab the buttermilk.
“That’s new.”
He pauses and looks up to find her studying him with a frown. “What’s new?”
“The snark.”
Billy’s face grows hot, but he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not a little kid anymore.”
Nana’s face falls, sadness filling her eyes and Billy’s throat grows tight, regret and shame curling in his stomach for making such an expression appear on her face. She stops mixing and shifts a bit to face him properly.
“No,” she says softly and reaches out to cup his cheek with her hand. Her palm is warm, her fingers calloused and a bit rough against his skin. Billy shudders, his breath hitches. “You’re all grown.” She smiles, a sad little thing, and strokes his cheek with her thumb. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Billy’s eyes burn. “What for?”
“For not being here.”
“You died,” he rasps. A stroke, sudden and devastating, one day she was just fine and the next she was gone. “You didn’t choose to leave.”
Not like Mom. Mom chose to leave, she chose to leave without Billy.
“Billy—”
He pulls away from her touch and grabs the buttermilk to add half to the mixture. “Don’t get distracted now,” he echoes her words, his voice wavering.
She begins mixing again. Billy waits until everything is combined properly, then adds the rest of the flour mixture and buttermilk. Once everything is incorporated, he watches Nana pour the batter into the pan she then places inside the oven.
“Ah,” she says and turns around. “Right on time.”
Billy follows her gaze and tenses up at the sight of the weird orb of light floating in the middle of the kitchen. “What the—”
“Now, sweetheart,” Nana interrupts him gently. She grabs his hand in hers like it’s something precious, like he’s still a child and isn’t taller and bigger than her. She smiles, the corner of her eyes crinkling. “It’s time to go.”
Billy eyes the orb, then looks back at her. “Go where?”
“Go back,” she says and squeezes his hand.
To the cold, the dark, the pain? Billy shakes his head. “No.”
Nana’s eyes fill with tears. “You can’t stay here,” she says. Why not? He wants to stay here, where it’s warm and gentle and nothing hurts anymore. He wants to help her bake lemon cakes and listen to her read to him or talk out loud while she does crossword puzzles like she genuinely believes he’ll make great contributions.
Like when he was a kid and came here to escape home, to not be where he could hear his parents fighting and hurl insults at each other. Where he could forget that dad didn’t like him very much and mom loved him unless she was having a bad day and hated the whole world.
“I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here.” He sounds like a fucking kid, Neil would smack him if he could hear him. But Neil isn’t here, Neil can’t hurt him here, no one can.
“Oh, Billy,” Nana sighs. “This isn’t real.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. You want a life, you want freedom. This is neither. This is a lie, and you know it.”
Billy swallows back a sob, but there’s nothing he can’t do against the tears running down his cheeks. “I’m tired, Nana,” he chokes out.
“I know. I know, but this isn’t the end. Besides, can’t you feel it?”
Billy frowns. “Feel what?”
Nana smiles and lets go of his hand to press her palm against his chest. There, he feels it, like a blazing sun beneath his ribcage, scorching yet gentle, like someone stroking his hair and whispering kind words in his ear, like tender arms wrapped around him.
“Wha—what’s that?” he rasps.
“You should go find out,” Nana says and points at the orb of light.
But that means leaving. It means leaving her, it means risking getting hurt again. “I don’t—” Billy starts and looks back at her, but the words die in his throat.
Nana is gone.
“Fuck,” Billy hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, the orb is right there, glowing gently, almost encouragingly.
Billy grits his teeth and looks back at the oven. The kitchen should be filled with the scent of lemon cake slowly baking but Billy can’t smell anything.
This isn’t real. It’s a lie, and he knows it.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, fine.”
He steps towards the orb.
Munson opens the door and steps outside, Billy just stares for a few seconds then follows him; he expects the world to melt and reshape itself the way it kept happening in his dream—what is it going to be, this time? The beach, his mom’s favorite diner, Nana’s kitchen again? But there is no weird light, no distorted noises, he’s just—outside.
Outside smells like dirt and grass and a million other things all mixing together to create something so potent Billy pauses on top of the stairs and immediately decides that not needing to breathe might actually be a good thing. He took a deep breath instinctively, but not because his body still thinks it needs the oxygen: to gauge his surroundings he supposes, and that was clearly a bad idea. The inside of the trailer was already a lot, but this is just unbearable.
His sense of smell isn’t the only one getting assaulted. It’s dark outside but he can still see everything clearly, in so many details he never noticed before, like his life was a 480p YouTube video and has now turned into a 8K movie or something. The noises he was already able to perceive from inside are all so much louder too, scratching and crawling and rustling and whispering, Billy is suddenly aware of how alive everything around him is.
Is Munson hearing all of this too? If he is, it doesn’t seem to disturb him at all, because he just takes another sip of blood and makes a humming sound as he stares ahead. Billy follows his gaze to find three of the brats comfortably seated around a table on the neighbor’s little patio; they each have a plate and a glass in front of them and an old lady is watching them stuff their mouths full of pie with a calm, content smile on her face.
Maxine, Sinclair and the weird girl are nowhere to be seen. Billy frowns, looking around as he trails after Munson, a familiar anger stirring inside him. Where has she run off to now? Does she really have to make everything more difficult than it has to be, even now?
“Good evening, Delilah,” Munson greets the old lady with a dorky little wave.
He’s so fucking weird. He’s not what Billy expected when Heather told him about the owner of the hot black Corvette they saw speeding out of Hawkins one night as he was driving her home. He pictured someone older, radiating confidence and charm, like the vampires he saw hanging out outside of the vamp bar he almost walked into once before he chickened out, back home.
Instead, Munson doesn’t look much older than Billy and he knows it doesn’t mean anything because he could still be hundreds of years old, but he definitely doesn’t act like he is. So far, he’s been kind of a fumbling, stammering mess, but that doesn’t mean Billy is going to let that fool him into lowering his guard down.
“Good evening, Edward,” the old lady replies with an amused smile, like they’re both sharing a joke.
“Are those little rascals bothering you, my lady?” Munson drawls, cocking a hip like he’s in a fucking John Wayne movie or something.
The kids huff while the old woman barks out a laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she questions with a smirk.
Munson’s shoulders slump a bit. “Does the entire neighborhood know?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, but I’m probably not the only one who’s heard enough to put two and two together. Those three filled in the blanks.” Tweedle Dee looks up with a sheepish smile while Tweedle Dum and Toothless keep eating, unbothered. “That bleeding heart of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”
Billy frowns, Munson sputters. “Okay, I don’t have a bleeding heart. In fact, my heart is quite literally dead, has been for thirty-eight years now.” The old lady offers him a very unimpressed look. “Did they tell you about the part where his stepsister threatened to set the trailer on fire if I didn’t do it?”
Huh. Billy can’t say he’s surprised by the threat considering Maxine once stabbed him with a syringe full of tranquilizer and threatened to smash his balls with a baseball bat for roughing up Sinclair; he doesn’t know how to feel about her threatening someone on his behalf though. Billy honestly thought she’d be happy to be rid of him, they might not have been at each other’s throat like they used to be but it doesn’t mean they were getting along either. Billy was just happy to ignore her as much as possible, which became easier to do when he got the job at the pool and Neil stopped making him babysit her all the time; she was clearly happy about that too.
He doesn’t understand why she’d go so far to save his life.
“Speaking of the arsonist stepsister,” Munson drawls. “Did you see where she went?”
“Into the woods,” Tweedle Dee says, his brows furrowed in a sad frown. “Lucas and El went with her, they didn’t go very far.”
“Alright,” Munson sighs. “I suppose it’s pointless to tell you to go home now?”
“I can keep an eye on them,” Delilah says with a little shrug. “You know I’m always restless when the full moon is close, I won’t be going to bed anytime soon.”
Billy blinks and suddenly remembers Neil ranting about the trailer park, how it’s apparently full of beasts and way too close to Cherry Lane and you and your sister need to be careful, don’t go wandering there and be home after dark.
“Oh, shit,” Toothless chokes around a mouthful of pie. “You’re a Were?!”
Delilah looks at him with a little amused smile and a ring of gold flashes in her eyes, making Billy’s hackles rise just as Toothless lets out a gasp.
“Dude, did you not realize when she said she heard what happened?” Tweedle Dum mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Well, we weren’t particularly discreet!” Toothless argues then leans closer to Delilah with big, avid eyes. “Is your hearing better than a vampire’s?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“Dee!” Munson exclaims.
“What? It’s true even now that my hearing isn’t what it used to be,” she says with a smirk.
“Oh, whatever,” Munson grumbles and finishes his bottle of blood. “Let’s go.”
He turns around and throws the empty bottle in the trash, then starts stomping towards the woods; Delilah offers Billy a smile that makes his skin crawl, so he quickly spins on his heels to follow after Munson.
“What did she mean,” Billy starts quietly because Munson changed the subject again, “when she talked about you getting in trouble?”
Munson’s footsteps falter and come to a stop as he glances at Billy warily. He just stares at him silently for what feels like ages and Billy’s about to snap at him because this is getting seriously annoying when he finally opens his mouth: “I turned you without your consent, which is illegal.”
Right. Billy knew that, kind of. There was a case in California a few years ago, of a werewolf getting caught for biting a dozen people without their consent. The guy got the death penalty for that.
“Proving that a progeny didn’t give their consent is usually almost impossible, a maker can just command them to convincingly say they wanted it, but… Well,” Munson rubs the back of his neck and lets out a hoarse, joyless little laugh. “You were in a coma, which kinda makes it impossible for you to agree to being turned, and, well, I did promise I wouldn’t command you again, so. Yeah.”
What the fuck. There’s no way he’s being serious right now. “So, what, you’ll get the death penalty just to keep a promise?” Billy scoffs and the thought makes him feel cold all over, his gut twisting painfully. The reaction is so visceral it leaves him reeling, because what the fuck?
“The death penalty?” Munson chokes out with wide eyes. “Wow, no, calm down. I’m not completely stupid, okay? You would have died if I hadn’t done it, these are… special circumstances. It also helps that your stepsister is the one who busted you out of the hospital, brought you here and—yeah, anyway, no, they’re not gonna stake me for this.”
Seriously, what the fuck. “She—what?”
Munson frowns, looking a bit confused for a second before he lets out a small chuckle. “Right, you don’t know, how would you know? They just showed up last night at like, 3am in a blue truck with your unconscious ass in the passenger seat.” A blue truck. As in, Neil’s truck? Jesus fucking Christ, Maxine. “So I’m pretty sure they snuck inside the hospital to kidnap you in the middle of the night.”
That’s. Insane. Completely bonkers. How did they not get caught? Right, Tweedle Dee and the girl, El, they do magic, Billy remembers. Henry wanted her (Bring me the girl, Billy, bring her now) because of how powerful she is, so he could use her and (We need her, and then it’ll all be over, isn’t that what you want, Bi—shut the fuck up).
“So,” Billy makes himself speak again, ignoring how tight his throat feels. “What will they do to you, then?”
“Depends,” Munson says with a shrug. “I know a good lawyer, and with your sister bringing you to me and me doing this because she begged me to save your life… I guess I can get away with being monitored for a while and paying a pretty big fine or something. Your folks could decide to sue though, and I guess there’d be some kind of allowance for emotional damage or whatever. They’ll probably want to check in on you regularly too, make sure I’m a good maker to you, that I’m teaching you how to be a good, well-behaved vampire and not a menace to society.” Munson makes a face, clearly not liking the idea, and Billy can’t say he likes it much either.
“What’s stopping me from telling them you showed up at the hospital to turn me without ever mentioning Maxine, and making you sound like some kind of freak who should at least be locked up?” Billy asks with a sneer, there’s no way Munson will just let him do that, not when he can just order him not to.
Munson looks startled, there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes before he averts his gaze and presses his lips together in a thin line. “Other than the fact that what I told you about breaking the bond now also applies if I die, which means they’d probably either lock you up forever or put you down too…” he trails off hoarsely. “Well, they’d probably lock me in a cell instead so you don’t go mad, but you’d be without your maker at your side to teach you control, so they’d send you to one of their facilities. They’re—not great. Basically prisons. So, yeah. Other than that, nothing.”
Right, of course. There’s always something, isn’t there? Always a reason Billy can’t be rid of Munson, can’t be free. It’s incredibly convenient and a part of Billy wonders if he’s lying, but something is telling him he’s being honest and he isn’t quite sure what it is exactly, but he doesn’t like it at all. He can’t feel Munson’s emotions or read his thoughts or anything like that, but he definitely feels—something.
Something he’d rather not be feeling at all.
Billy grinds his teeth together. It seems it’s in his best interest to make sure Munson doesn’t get in too much trouble with the Supernatural Division. He doesn’t know much about those facilities Munson mentioned, but he can easily imagine what they’re like, and he doesn’t really like the idea of being monitored regularly either. He doesn’t want some government goon showing up to judge whether or not he’s being good. He doesn’t trust Munson and there’s no way he’ll truly let Billy tell them whatever he wants, not when it could get him locked up behind bars forever, but he’d rather have to deal with one asshole than the whole fucking government.
Besides, he’s pretty sure Neil would sue Munson and there’s no way Billy is going to let him get paid for pretending Billy’s been anything but a burden he’s probably relieved to be rid of.
“So, if we told them one of the magic kids managed to wake me up and I agreed when you offered to turn me, they’d leave all of us alone?” Billy asks.
Munson looks up with big, brown eyes and his mouth open in shock, it makes him look like an idiot. “I, uh,” he stammers then frowns, looking thoughtful. “Well, that’s what I was hoping we could do, but I started thinking it wasn’t gonna be an option. I mean, would you?”
Billy shrugs, his skin prickling under Munson’s hopeful gaze. “It sounds like the best option.”
Munson’s whole face lights up as he smiles so wide the corner of his eyes crinkle a little bit. “Thank you, Billy,” he says so earnestly Billy has to tear his gaze away.
“I’m not doing it for you,” he mumbles.
“Still. It is the best option, but it also means helping me out so thank you.”
“Whatever,” Billy says because he needs this conversation to be over now. He also needs Munson to stop smiling like a moron.
He seems to get the message because he starts walking again and his steps definitely appear a bit lighter now. Billy shoves his hands in his pockets and follows him.
Seriously, what’s his deal? Why did Munson turn him if it meant getting in trouble with the law? Sure, he probably thought Billy would just be grateful and agree to say anything, or that he’d just have to order him and be done with it, but still. Why do it in the first place? There has to be something he’s after, Maxine’s threats can’t have scared him that badly and there’s no way he’s just a bleeding heart.
Billy hates this, he hates not knowing what Munson wants. Unknown expectations mean Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act, what the limits are, it means he can get fucked at any moment and it makes his skin crawl.
Not as much as Munson’s lies do, though. He can make Billy do anything he wants just by ordering him to and he won’t use that power over him ever again? Yeah, right. That’s bullshit, Billy doesn’t believe for one second that Munson wouldn’t command him to lie to the cops about how he was turned if it meant saving his ass, because who wouldn’t? He’s saying he won’t do it ever again now, but what about when Billy does something he doesn’t like? When he refuses to do something Munson really wants him to?
Empty promises are nothing but lies and Billy fucking hate liars. He doesn’t think he can even trust Munson to break the bond in a year, not when he doesn’t know why he turned him in the first place.
“Well, that’s depressing,” Munson mumbles, startling him out of his thoughts.
Billy stops right before he walks into him and looks ahead, where he finds Maxine sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. Sinclair and El are sitting on each side of her, shoulders touching, a small yellow ball of light floating next to the little witch so they’re not completely plunged in the dark. There’s a patch of upturned earth in front of them and Billy can’t see anything and he’s trapped and he’s so, so hungry and he needs to get out, he needs to get out of here now—
Billy jerks back when he feels something touch his arm and finds Munson looking at him with a worried frown on his face. Shit. “Is that—”
“Yeah,” Munson confirms quietly.
The brats have noticed them and the sight of Maxine’s red-rimmed eyes is pretty good at distracting him from the fact that he was buried here and Billy decides to focus on that instead. She looks like a mess, Billy really, really doesn’t understand her sometimes because seriously, what is she crying so much about now?
“Billy,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, her chin wobbling.
It pisses him off and he barely resists the urge to snap at her, but then he has no idea what to tell her. One thing is sure though, he’s not doing any of this in front of her friends and Munson. “Leave us,” he says.
The girl gives Max’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and stands up, but Sinclair doesn’t move and Munson brushes his fingers against Billy’s arm to get his attention again.
“I can’t leave you alone with her,” he says and he sounds sorry, but that doesn’t stop the wave of anger that surges inside Billy.
“I can shield her,” El pipes up before Billy can tell him to go fuck himself. She looks at Munson when she adds: “This way, you don’t have to worry.”
Munson frowns. “Aren’t you pretty much out of magic juice right now?”
“You will help me,” she says confidently. “There is magic in you.”
She offers him her hand and the look on Munson’s face is so comical Billy has to bite back a snort, his previous anger subsiding a little bit. Munson is looking at the girl’s hand like touching her is going to give him cooties, he glances at Billy who simply arches a brow at him because he’s the one who’s worried about Maxine, he can offer his inner magic to help protect her.
Billy isn’t going to attack her. Yeah, the thought of blood still makes him salivate, but he doesn’t feel like there’s a bottomless pit in his stomach anymore, not since he drank Munson’s blood, which is also something he doesn’t really want to think about right now. Or ever, really.
Munson huffs, but he reaches out and grabs El’s hand. She closes her eyes and Billy’s skin prickles in a way that feels way too familiar. He has felt this before and it immediately reminds him of Henry, but it also reminds him of being lost in the dark and finally seeing the light. A soft, blue glow wraps itself around Max, making her gasp quietly, and El opens her eyes with a satisfied look on her face.
Munson slips his hand out of hers and shakes it like he’s trying to get rid of pins and needles, his face all scrunched up.
“You can talk now,” El says, then looks at Sinclair: “Max is safe.”
Sinclair looks at Max who offers him a tiny smile and a nod, then he looks up at Billy. His gaze is full of defiance, like he’s daring Billy to do anything to hurt Max, like he isn’t the one who dragged her into this whole mess and put her in danger in the first place. Billy’s hands itch with the urge to grab the kid and shake him, but Sinclair finally stands up before it can overcome him.
He joins El and Munson and the three of them stand there awkwardly until El grabs Sinclair’s hand and tugs on Munson’s shirt to steer them away. Billy watches them walk until there’s enough distance between them he feels himself relax a tiny bit, but then he looks down at Max, still sitting on the ground with a miserable look on her face, and he quickly tears his gaze away.
What now? Billy said he’d talk to her, but he has no idea what to say.
He thought he knew her. Figuring out how Maxine works and being able to predict how she’d react to things became vital the moment Billy realized Neil was going to use her to keep an even tighter leash on him. He’d thought he could just pretend she didn’t exist at first, mostly ignore her, he’d been naive. Of course Neil wanted them to play family, of course Maxine was to become Billy’s responsibility.
She’s a stubborn mule, a little brat who thinks she can do everything she wants with little to no consequences because her spineless mother lets her get away with it. In retrospect, it’s not really Maxine’s fault if she’s this way, she’s just like those kids who throw a tantrum at the store because they were told they couldn’t have a toy or a treat; Billy hates how fucking loud they are, but it wouldn’t happen if their parents disciplined them properly.
“Does it hurt?”
Billy blinks and looks back down at Max. What? “Does what hurt?”
She averts her gaze and chews on her bottom lip, Billy hates when she does that, it makes her look like she's about to cry and it makes him want to shake her.
“Being a vampire,” she whispers hoarsely.
Billy frowns. Does it hurt? It did, yeah, when he was so hungry it was like someone was digging a hole in his stomach, Billy felt like he was going to die, like he was going to be hungry forever and it would drive him mad. It hurt when Munson ordered him around too, forced him to do things he didn’t want to do; it hurt because he tried to fight it and it felt like his head was being split open, like someone was pulling his insides out of his body.
Billy flexes his fingers, shifts on his feet, rolls his shoulders. He’s not in pain, he’s fine. Physically, he’s fine, more than fine if he’s being completely honest. He feels—strong. Usually, Billy needs to be punching someone in the face or lifting weights to feel that way, to look at himself in the mirror and trace the muscles he’s worked hard to develop with his gaze to reassure himself: you’re not a weak, pathetic little boy; but he doesn’t need to do any of this right now, he just feels it. There is no doubt about it, there is a certainty he doesn’t quite know how to explain, just like he knows he can see and hear things better, probably smell them too but he hasn’t tried taking a breath again since he walked out of the trailer, doesn’t think he wants to.
He could punch that tree over there and probably take it down, just like that. He could probably squeeze Max’s head between his hands and make it pop. That easy, pop, like a watermelon.
Billy shudders and takes a step back. “No,” he says.
“Munson—Munson said you’d be hungry all the time at first,” Max whispers, her voice small. “But he also said that if you fed regularly, it wouldn’t hurt.”
There’s no question, but Billy hears it nonetheless: did he lie? Billy runs a hand through his hair and crouches down so he can meet her gaze without her having to look up. “I’m not hungry.”
It’s… not a lie, not really. He doesn’t feel full and he can hear Max’s heart beat, how well it works to pump blood in her veins; he can see her neck, exposed by the ponytail she tied her hair into, and he thinks he could very easily break the skin with his fangs, he wonders how long it would take to drain her completely.
There is no pit in his stomach, though. His gums ache, but it’s nowhere near how badly he wanted to keep drinking Munson’s blood earlier. It’s easier to ignore, to push back in a corner of his mind; it’s closer to badly craving a snack than feeling desperately starved.
Max tightens her hold around her legs and presses her face between her knees. “I didn’t know,” she mumbles. “I didn’t know about—the hunger, and the bond, and—”
“Maxine,” Billy interrupts her, his tone clipped.
“I just wanted you to live.”
And that—“Why?” The word is out before Billy can help it.
Max looks up with a frown, like she doesn’t understand the question. Billy won’t repeat it, in fact, this conversation is over, he decides and stands up. “You need to—”
“You’re my brother,” she cuts him off before he says go home.
(Please, believe me Max, it’s not my fault, he begs and Henry laughs. Why would she believe you? She hates you, you made sure of it.)
Billy closes his eyes. Stepbrother, he wants to correct her, but the word remains stuck in his throat.
“I couldn’t just let you die,” Max insists. Why not? “You were possessed. You were possessed, and I didn’t even—El saw it, El knew, and I—”
Ah. It’s guilt then, maybe pity too. Okay, it makes sense now. Honestly, Billy should have known, of course she would do something like this because she felt bad for him.
“Okay,” he says and opens his eyes again.
“I’ll kill him,” she blurts out suddenly.
Billy looks down at her: her somber, determined face, the anger in her red-rimmed eyes, and. “What.”
“If he makes you do things you don’t want to do,” she says, holding his gaze. “I’ll kill him.”
“Maxine.”
“I mean it.”
How dare you, he thinks, how dare you threaten him, I’ll rip your head off your shoulders, I’ll eviscerate you if you hurt him. And then: what the fuck.
Billy’s gonna be sick. “Max, stop,” he chokes out.
He turns around because he can’t stand to look at her for a minute, pure anger curling in his gut and making his hands shake. The emotion feels like it comes from deep within him but also like it’s being injected into him, like it’s his but not really; it feels like Munson lurking in a corner of his mind.
He doesn’t care about Munson. He barely even knows the guy, there is no reason for him to feel this way, no natural reason, this is just that stupid bond.
“You’re twelve, what are you gonna do, scream at him?” he sneers and that settles something inside him. She’s just a kid, she’s not gonna kill anyone.
“I’m fourteen.”
Billy rolls his eyes and turns back around to look at her stupid pouty face. “Whatever, stop talking about murder and setting people’s houses on fire. Fucking psycho.”
“Worked, didn’t it,” she mumbles with a glare.
Unbelievable. “You done crying like a baby then?” he asks because he really doesn’t feel like staying here any longer, the patch of upturned earth by her feet makes him feel queasy. “Get up, you’re going home.”
And because he really doesn’t want her to argue, Billy offers her his hand. She stares at it with a frown and he’s about to haul her to her feet whether she wants it or not when she finally wraps her fingers around his own. Her hand glows a bit, it’s warm, buzzing, like it’s charged with electricity and she gasps when he tugs to pull her up in one swift motion.
She doesn’t let go of his hand.
“Maxine,” he growls.
“You’re cold,” she whispers, her thumb stroking his hand.
“Yeah, corpses usually are,” he says and snatches his hand back, then spins on his heels so he doesn’t have to look at her face.
The others are talking quietly when they join them, El is nodding with a thoughtful look on her face and Billy realizes Munson is telling them about what the plan is when the cops or the SD show up and ask them questions.
“I think we’ll do it tomorrow before or after our trip to Indianapolis, the sooner the better but—”
“Do what?” Billy interrupts.
Munson doesn’t seem startled, of course he probably heard them approaching. He simply turns around and offers Billy a small smile.
“Make your new condition known. Perhaps retrieve some of your things too? I’m in no hurry to leave Hawkins so you don’t have to pack everything just yet, but I figure you’d like to wear your own clothes for example.”
Right. He’s in no hurry to leave Hawkins, but he will, and when he does, Billy will have to go with him, because that’s his life now, at least for the next year. Isn’t that what he already had to tell himself when they moved to this shithole? That it would only be for a year, and then he’d be free?
There is always something.
He’s been dreaming of this since they got here, but Billy was supposed to go back to California, he was supposed to finally be independent, where the fuck is Munson even going to take him?
“Whatever,” Billy mutters and walks past them.
He can’t do this right now. The walk back to the trailer park is awkwardly silent, but Billy honestly doesn’t give a shit. The three other brats are where they left them and they perk up when they see them approaching.
“You have to try this pie, guys,” Toothless says.
“You have to go home,” Billy hisses. “All of you, now.”
The kids frown and they all look at Maxine like her word is law or something, un-fucking-believable. She chews on her bottom lip and gives a tiny nod.
“Okay but how are we sure he’s not gonna go on a rampage?” Tweedle Dum asks with a sneer, it makes him look even more like his prissy sister. “He almost ran us over with his car before he became a bloodthirsty vampire.”
“And he attacked Lucas, too,” Toothless adds.
He is right here. He also probably should have run those shitheads over, then he wouldn’t have to deal with them right now. Billy’s gums ache and he takes a step forward towards them, but then there’s a hand against his chest and not quite a voice in his head urging him to calm down.
“How about you don’t antagonize the bloodthirsty vampire, yes?” Munson asks sweetly. He drums his fingers against Billy’s chest like that’s just something he can do, and Billy doesn’t know why he isn’t pushing him away. “He’s not gonna go on a rampage because he’s not stupid and he doesn’t want to be put down like a rabid animal by the SD. Besides, you little shits asked me to turn him, don’t you think it’s a little bit late to have second thoughts?”
“I did say it was a bad idea,” Toothless points out with a shrug.
“Shut up, Dustin,” Maxine mumbles. “Just—let’s go.”
“How about I give you all a ride home?” Delilah intervenes before the brats can add anything else. “It’s late, I would feel better knowing you were all delivered home safely.”
“We uh, we biked here,” Tweedle Dee says shyly, Delilah offers him a smile and pats his shoulder as she stands up.
“They’ll fit in the back of my truck, why don’t you go fetch your bikes?” she offers, pointing at the old pickup truck parked near her trailer, then quickly goes inside to retrieve her keys. “Go on now.”
Miraculously, the boys and Max go get the bikes they left next to Munson’s trailer without protesting.
“Thank you, Dee,” Munson says.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it,” she says as she starts cutting three even slices into the pie. She places one on a napkin and offers it to El with a wink, then carefully wraps the other two—for Max and Sinclair, Billy guesses.
She covers the rest of the pie and walks over to the kids, she offers them the slices before helping them load the bikes in the back of her truck with an ease no lady her age should still be capable of.
“Henry was wrong,” El says suddenly, drawing his attention to her. She’s looking at him with a gentle smile, her hands carefully holding the slice of pie.
Hearing that name is enough to make him tense up and clench his teeth. “About what?” Billy rasps.
Henry said a lot of things. About how dark and twisted Billy is, how alone and pathetic he is, how even his own mother didn’t want him and what does that say about him? Henry was relentless, telling him to let go because no one would miss him anyway, wouldn’t it be better if he just stopped fighting?
“Everything,” El says firmly.
Billy’s throat feels tight, he has to look away from her too earnest face. “Right.”
Was he, though? Henry chose him after learning from his mistakes with the Byers kid: a witch was a stronger vessel, one that didn’t deteriorate the way Billy’s body did because of his magic protecting him, but it had made him harder to control while Billy could just be shoved into a corner of his own mind. More importantly, Billy didn’t have anyone who would immediately notice something was wrong with him and do everything in their power to free him from Henry’s influence.
And he was right, wasn’t he? Some fucking psycho ghost walked around wearing his body for almost two weeks and no one noticed. Not Neil, not Susan, not Maxine. She admitted it herself, she didn’t realize Billy wasn’t behind the wheel, El did. El noticed because she fought Henry before, because she’s a witch and felt him inside Billy, not because she knows Billy enough to recognize when he isn’t acting like himself.
Because apparently, no one does. Or no one cares enough to worry about it.
So, really, was Henry wrong about him?
Stop staring, go away, he wants to tell her. You should have let me die. I was dreaming, why did you have to wake me up?
“You will be happy again,” she says and climbs into the truck before Billy can ask her if that was a prediction or an order.
Delilah’s truck spits out thick, black smoke as she turns on the engine and Billy scrunches up his nose. He watches it drive towards the exit of the trailer park and disappear.
“Those kids are way too intense,” Munson sighs and Billy snorts before he can help it.
He scowls. “What now?” he asks because it’s just them now, the kids are gone, which is what Munson wanted and Billy has to wonder if his tune is gonna change. If he’ll stop playing nice vampire now that the kids have been told what to tell the cops, if this is when Billy finds out this was all a lie and the brats were manipulated too.
Munson makes a thoughtful, humming noise. “Well, the night is still young,” he says, looking up at the sky. “How do you feel?”
Billy gives him a blank look.
“Right,” Munson laughs awkwardly. “Okay, uh. How do you feel about finding out just how much of an ‘apex predator’ you are now?”
He makes quotation marks with his fingers like a dork and Billy should probably feel relieved he’s still acting this way, but it only unnerves him more.
“I thought you were gonna make sure I don’t go on a rampage or something.”
Munson grins, revealing his fangs, Billy stomach clenches, the back of his neck prickles. “By learning control. You can’t learn control if you don’t know just how far you can go, right?”
There’s a rush of—something. Excitement? Billy’s whole body tingles with it, making him feel like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. His gums ache and he can feel his own fangs growing to match Munson’s.
He hates it. His own body feels foreign again, like it doesn’t really belong to him anymore, like it’s being controlled by something, someone else.
Control. Can Munson really teach him that? Does he really want to? Billy clenches his fists and tears his gaze away from that stupid smile. “Sure,” he mutters. “Let’s do that.”
“Awesome,” Munson chirps. “Let’s go where we won’t be disturbing the neighbors.”
Billy watches him head towards the woods and thinks about running in the other direction. He thinks about not stopping until he’s lost Munson, wonders if he can even manage it or if the bond means he can feel him no matter how far Billy goes.
Would Munson still be a presence in his mind if there was an ocean between them?
One year. Just one more year, if Munson keeps his word. If he isn’t a fucking liar with some hidden agenda. And if he is, then Billy supposes Munson is right.
He should find out just how strong he is now.