Chapter Text
In Hawkins, good little god-fearing children didn’t try to resurrect the dead. Sure, the occasional teenage shenanigans took a dip into the occult—ouija boards, voodoo dolls, summoning rituals. It was laughably harmless, but Steve’s ritual took limbs, eyes, teeth, leaving lone fingers or empty husks. Children just looking for cheap thrills fled to safer options like drugs or alcohol. The first time Steve stared into the petal shaped maw of the Demogorgon marked his last day as a child. He wasn’t afraid.
Steve could admit he was never the sharpest tool in the shed. Life had dealt him a fair share of blows—Jonathan, Billy, the Russians, not even mentioning the beatings courtesy of daddy dearest; Steve’s, likely extensive, brain damage made it hard for him to recognize real danger. A mistake he’d end up paying for with his life.
“What’s a nice boy like you doing with a devilish book like this?” Steve was trying to check something out of the Hawkins Public Library, a place he never thought he’d step foot in again. It wasn’t the expected activities for an almost 20 year old man, and definitely not something his father would approve of. Fortunately, esteemed businessman, Richard Harrington, was too busy fucking his secretary to be worried about what his son was doing.
“It’s for an article a friend of mine is writing for the newspaper,” Steve leaned onto the checkout desk with a sly grin. “She’s talking about the recent rise of cults and Satanism. I thought a book like this would help her out y’know?” He saw the irony in his story. He was the big, scary, Satanist Hawkins was afraid of—he was trying to raise the dead for God’s sake! But, whatever kept the alarms from sounding and Steve from being locked up in the basement of the Hawkins Catholic Church.
He watched the librarian chew on his lie before accepting it and handing the book back to him. The cover was a deep purple hue with symbols Steve couldn’t begin to decipher. He knew better than to mess with it. He had seen firsthand the monsters that lurked in the shadows, looked the devil in the eyes and saw the depths of evil that lived in mens’ souls. But none of that could expel the ghost of Eddie Munson that lived deep inside of Steve Harrington. The sight of Eddie’s dead body was imprinted on Steve’s eyelids and he’d do anything to get rid of it—including trying his hand at necromancy apparently. It was reckless, even by his standards.
The sun fell down beneath the hills as night settled in on the desolate town of Hawkins. Steve set off for the forest behind his house with a duffel and bucket in tow, the book nestled beneath his arm. The forest swallowed him in darkness, and without a flashlight, Steve resorted to the lighter in his back pocket. The cold air pierced his lungs as he trekked deeper into the forest; the sloshing of the bucket and snapping of twigs echoing behind him. Placing the bucket on the ground, Steve unzipped the bag. His nose wrinkled at the putrid stench, disgusting yet familiar. Rot and death permeated the air as he dumped the carcasses onto the forest floor. A grotesque heap of bloody fur and lifeless eyes judgingly stared up at him. The wind howled violently as if protesting Steve’s senseless slaughter.
He placed the book on the ground, flipped open to the page with all the warnings. He’d read them before, “…never perform at all costs”—he was ignoring that one, “do not let the creature that emerges from the circle taste human flesh”—keep a healthy distance then, “never use names with the creature”—stick with calling Eddie ‘dude’ for the time being, and “under no circumstances make any kind of deal”—just, avoid doing this. Steve was raising the dead, but he was trying not to be a total moron about it okay?
He dipped his hands into the bucket, cringing as the blood coated his palms and seeped underneath his fingernails. He traced the symbol inside the book into the dirt around the dead animals. Steve knew deep down he was wasting his time, but stubbornly began to pronounce the words on the page. “Cnila d comselha odo ananael…” The wind grew louder with each passing moment, causing the flame from the lighter to flicker where Steve set it down. The feeling of eyes on him made Steve shiver with fear. “Ipamis noncp fafen niis!” Steve's voice crescendoed over the howling wind. “Avavago tlios vran!” Suddenly, darkness. The lighter extinguished, leaving Steve on his hands and knees, immersed in a pool of blood and shadows. The forest fell into an eerie silence.
Steve sucked his teeth in annoyance. He knew this was a waste of time! Searching for the lighter, he decided to head home, leaving the mess for another time. Disappointment sat like a rock in Steve’s stomach, the stubborn confidence from before cracking to reveal the deep sadness underneath.
“Oh Eddie, I’d give anything to have you back.”
As he continued back towards his house, the crunch of twigs beneath his feet brought some solace. He stopped and kicked at the grass, releasing his pent-up frustration. The crunching of twigs persisted. It was probably just an animal lurking nearby, Steve reasoned. He kept walking, eager to wash off the sticky residue of animal blood. The memory of the rabbit's mangled neck and its accusing gaze gave him a chill. Its mouth agape in furry horror. As he walked, his steps sounded…off? Like they weren’t in time with his feet, like—like there was someone behind him. He quickened his pace, keeping his breathing shallow, straining his ears for the sound that seemingly disappeared. Paranoia, a remnant of his first encounter with the Upside Down, clouded his thoughts. Steve shook his head, ready to declare himself an idiot for the umpteenth time tonight until he heard it—the sound of breathing. Haggard and rough breathing, as if through a straw. Steve froze in his tracks. The, previously inaudible, steps resumed their relentless approach. The breath of an unseen entity caressed his neck. And then, a voice, low and guttural, whispered into his ear.
“-eve.” It barely registered, hardly audible. “Stev…ie”
The sound of Eddie’s voice held Steve rigidly in place. “STEVE! STEVE! STEVE!” The voice thundered into Steve's ear, jolting him into action. He ran, propelled by primal instinct, the scream triggering his fight or flight. He had no idea where he was headed. Somewhere in the frenzy, he dropped the lighter, a branch scraping his face.
Finally, Steve saw the silhouette of his house and heaved a sigh of relief, but didn’t stop running until he reached the safety of locked doors. His heart thundered in his chest. What the fuck was that? It didn’t act like something from the Upside Down, none of those monsters could talk. Steve shakily washed the blood off his hands and the cut on his cheek. He stayed up all night clutching his nail bat, waiting for a rematch from the thing in the woods. But it never came.
Steve jolted out of his bed to the sound of screams, desperate calls of his name from the kids and Robin and Nancy and—! He bolted to get downstairs when he heard the crackle of his walkie-talkie.
“Don’t.” A staticky voice cut through the screaming. Steve needed to get downstairs. He reached for the doorknob when the voice spoke again. “ Don’t. They’re not there.”
“I can hear them.” Steve said, frustrated. “They’re calling for me!” He didn’t know what possessed him to stop and chat when his friends were downstairs screaming bloody murder, but even Steve could admit there was something suspicious going on. He stopped to think, what were all of them doing in his house in the first place?
“There we go, knew there was a brain in that beautiful head of yours. Not a huge one considering how you got yourself into this mess, but at least it’s not empty in there.”
“I don’t wanna hear anything from the disembodied children’s toy.” Steve snarked. “How are you so sure my friends aren’t down there getting torn apart by some monster?” He asked, not entirely convinced.
“Well for one,” The screams abruptly stopped. “…They aren’t screaming anymore.” Steve leaned up against the door, listening for a noise that’d reassure him all his friends were still alive. A deafening silence caused Steve’s hands to tremble against the wood. “Get away from the door!” The voice chastised him. Nails, or more like talons , scratched at the wood, desperately trying to claw their way inside. Chanting. The thing outside was chanting his name like a prayer, getting more distorted with every ‘Steve!’ it tore out of its throat. Steve scrambled away from the door.
“What the hell is that thing!”
“It’s what happens when dumb little jocks don’t read the fine print. You broke nearly every rule in the book of yours, dumbass!” Steve frowned.
“Oh yeah?” Steve challenged. “And how did I manage that? As soon as it crawled its ass out of the forest it’s been trying to kill me!” He grabbed the walkie-talkie, turned the volume up to drown out the monster’s screams.
“Do you want it as a list? Don’t summon—broke. Human flesh? You bled all over that tree. Make a deal?” The voice pitched up to be high and whiny, mocking Steve no doubt. “Oh Eddie! I’d give anything to have you back, oh!” Steve wished he just smashed the damn thing.
“I don’t sound like that!”
“Names is the only thing you didn’t mess up entirely, you gave it a name, which you weren’t supposed to do. But! You didn’t tell it your name, so hey! Silver lining.” If all the voice was gonna do is make fun of him, Steve could at least get it to be helpful.
“Hey genius, if I didn’t give it my name how come it keeps screaming it?” Steve asked, hoping to get a straight answer rather than another quip.
“Because genius , just because it knows your name doesn’t mean you gave it freely. Those are two different things.” Steve didn’t understand, but it seemed like that was the only explanation he was going to get.
“What happens if I give it my name?” He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Then you’re fucked.” The voice said flatly. “It will come in here and kill you and I’ll get the pleasure of laughing while you die of your own stupidity.” Ignoring the last part, Steve focused on the first half.
“Why can’t it kill me now?” The voice sounded annoyed now.
“You’re going to waste all your questions at this rate,” Hold on, he had a limit? “You already broke the other rules so use that to your advantage, use it to stay alive. Talk to me tomorrow, if you live that long.” The voice cackled and the walkie-talkie turned off. Shit. Well, Steve had survived worse than being stuck in his room. But, how long was he going to be trapped in here? And how long was the monster going to be kept out. Screams, the splintering of wood, and Steve’s own frantic breaths lulled him into a dreamless sleep.