"I swear, if I'm dying tonight because of you, I'm gonna haunt your ass so hard, Harrington!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah! I'm gonna go full Poltergeist and shit!"
"Then bring it, Graveswood."
"Challenge accepted."
***
In which after years of suppressing their...
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Chapter Sixty-Seven: On Catching A Demogorgan And Dating Advice
(The Spy, Pt. 2)
***
Fuck.
That was the only coherent thought in Rowan's mind after they left the storm cellar and bunkered down in Dustin's room—none of them wanted to sleep in their own bedrooms right now. Rowan was pressed against Alistair as her brother slept, Hugin nestled in his hair—the bird had appeared an hour ago and immediately tackled her brother before roosting in his curls for the night—while Dustin slept in his bed and Steve was also on the floor with her and Alistair, a healthy gap between them, with her mind just screaming, Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!
This was great—this was just perfect! Absolutely fucking wonderful! Of course they needed a Demogorgon who may or may not be almost fully grown on the prowl in Hawkins and ready to eat more than trash, nougat and innocent cats! It was just what Rowan needed to help her sleep!
It was fucking great!
Alistair whimpered beside her and Rowan turned to her brother, focused on him as she rubbed her hand up and down his back, hoping to soothe him as much as she could while Alistair endured whatever nightmare he was having. Her brother's face was contorted with fear, but it slowly eased, as if he could feel his big sister's gentle, soothing touch.
Rowan turned and saw Steve looking at her, face illuminated in the faint moonlight seeping in through Dustin's window. Looking in worry at Alistair.
"Nightmares," Rowan whispered. "He gets bad ones. Of the ghosts. As if they don't already give him any peace during the day..."
Sparks flashed over Rowan's clenched fist. She relaxed her hand, and the sparks faded as she finished, "I can't get rid of them, but I... I try to help him, comfort him and let him know I'm here. And, if I can, I'll dream-walk into them and bring him into a happier dream."
Steve was quiet, before he murmured, "You're a good sister, Graveswood. I don't think I could be a good brother."
Steve gave a bitter laugh. "No, I'm not. I'd probably screw up being a brother like I've screwed up everything else."
"Well, Harrington, I've got news to tell you—screwing up is part of it. Al and I... we fight, and we screw things up, but we're always there for each other and still love each other," Rowan said firmly. "And, I think you would be a good brother."
Steve looked at her, eyes nearly black in the darkness of the night.
Shifting so she was fully facing him, Rowan asked, "You okay?"
