Counterfeit

CHAPTER ONE

He stared at the ceiling.
Bill Denbrough was now 15 years old, and the death of his little brother George Denbrough still regularly haunted his mind. It was 3 am on Thursday, May 3rd 2018, when Bill woke up in a cold sweat from another nightmare. Again Georgie screamed for him, begged him to take him back home where Pennywise The Dancing Clown could never hurt him, safe with Bill and mom and dad. Safe at home where the cellar was the only scary thing in his life and he didn't need to worry about arms being bitten off or yellow eyed clowns eating him alive. He screamed and screamed and screamed and Bill could do nothing to save him, just like that day four years ago.
Bill choked on his breath and gasped for air, 'in and out in and out, inhale seven, hold for four, exhale- fuck, come on' he thought. The breathing exercises didn't work, and he felt stuck in an endless loop. Tears stained his cheeks as his eyes began to swell, and his lungs burned with desperation for more oxygen. He was having a panic attack. He was used to it by now, every once in a while he'd wake up early morning after a nightmare, whether it be about Georgie or the sewers, or maybe even his friends dying (but that never really happened), and sit in his bed finding it the most difficult thing in the world to just breathe. It was sickeningly old by now; he thought he should've been over his brothers death and moving on.

The Losers Club were still as close as before, if not more by now, sharing practically every day and night with each other, but on nights like this Bill would reach for his phone and call Stan.
Ring Ring Ring
"P-Please, p-pick uh-up the ph-phone," Bill whispered in desperation.
The dial tone stopped, and '00:00' showed up on the screen.
"Bill," he picked up. "It's 3:24, why're you calling?"
"I j-just.. S-Stan," he sobbed. He cried so hard he could barely get the words out- but it's not like his stutter would let him anyway.
"Oh, shit.. fuck. Uhm.. I'll be there soon, Bill. Hang on." Stan hung up the call, and Bill felt terrible. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his chest. He hated doing this to Stan, making him wake up so early just to listen to him cry, or on nights like tonight, sneak out of his house and then sneak into Bills' through his bedroom window (Bill's parents knew but never stopped anything).
Exactly 7 minutes later, Bill heard a knock at his window and rushed to open it up, then gave Stan a hug. Stan asked him a question.
"Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"
Bill wiped his eyes and sat down on his bed again.
"It was Juh-Juh-Georgie," he croaked, tears escaped from his eyes once again, but then he continued. "He b-begged me to t-take him home, S-Stan. I j-just want t-to take h-him home. I w-wish I could g-go back and c-change everything. I n-need my l-little b-brother back!" He sobbed again. Stan hurried over and sat next to him.
"Bill.." he whispered. "I know. I know you want him back.. he's gone, Bill. It was just a dream. Everything will be okay. I'm here. It's okay," he hugged him. It was out of character for Stan to do things like this, but he had a real soft spot for Bill.
"I-I-I," Bill started wheezing; he couldn't breathe again. He hated making Stan wake up for him, but he hated doing this in front of Stan even more. Stan grasped Bills hand firmly.
"Bill, it's okay. Try to breathe, you'll be okay." So Bill breathed, and it took a few seconds to happen, but he breathed. And Stan was there with him to protect him from the bad dreams about his little brother begging to come back home.
But between Bill and Georgie, Bill was secretly the one begging for Georgie to come back..

Stan and Bill fell asleep on his bed like they did most nights when Bill had a nightmare, and woke up to the sound of knocking on Bills bedroom door.
"Bill! Bill! Billlllll!" It sounded like Georgie, but that was impossible. George died four and a half years ago.
Stan was the first to wake up, arms around Bill in a protective sort of stance. Bill woke up not long after, hearing the sound of his little brothers voice.
"N-No no no, S-Stan, what is t-t-that?" He looked like tears were about to spill from his eyes once more.
"It's nothing, Bill. Stay here.." Stan stood up and made his way to the door. The door was still being knocked on and a child's voice was kept ringing behind it. He looked at Bill and mouthed '1...2...3..!' And opened the door.
Once the door was opened, a now nine year old George Denbrough burst through it and onto Bills bed.
"Bill! Wake up already! We're supposed to go play, remember?" Georgie was trying to pull Bill from his bed, but Bill sat there wide-eyed. He looked at Stan, who seemed to be doing the exact same thing.
"Bill, get up!" Georgie whined. "Bill? Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Bill reached up to touch his cheek. He hadn't realised that he started crying. Stan walked over to kneel beside George.
"Georgie?" He reached out his hand to touch Georgie's shoulder, and was met with a surprise. Georgie jumped onto Stan and gave him a hug. "Stan! Are you here to play too? When did you get here?" Georgie had the largest smile plastered onto his face, and he didn't seem the least bit confused. Bill practically jumped off his bed and pulled Georgie into a gigantic hug before even questioning where he had come from, or if he was really his little brother. He continued to cry and hug George, which baffled the child.
"Why're you huggin' me so tight? You're hurting me, Bill." He calmly stated. Bill let go of Georgie and wiped away his tears, then Stan chimed in.
"Georgie, why don't you go downstairs and wait for us? We wont be long, promise." He smiled.
"Okay!" He made haste when racing out of the room and down the stairs. Bill and Stan stared intently at each other for approximately two whole minutes. Bill was the first to open his mouth.
"W-W-What the f-fuck!?"
Stan quickly closed the bedroom door, "Watch your mouth, idiot! Do you want your parents to hear?"
Bill qucikly rose from the floor and rushed to his bedroom door. He locked it.
"W-What the f-fuck was that? That was not Georgie. It can't be him... right? Stan?" They both took a deep breath.
"You're right, it can't be him. But it looked just like him. It sounded like him, it looked like him, but it can't be him. But... I think it is him. He looks older, Bill. I-I... I don't know what's going on, but we'll figure it out." He slumped his shoulders and stared into Bill's eyes before hugging him.
Bill reluctantly opened the door, and down the stairs they went. What they saw when they made it to the living room was the most chilling of all today's events...
Sitting on Bill's living room couch was Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier, of which whom looked just as confused as they did. As soon as Richie noticed Stan and Bill, he jolted up off where he was sitting. "Bill! Stan! Holy fuck! What the fuck is going on?!" He ran over to the two and grabbed them each by their shoulders.
"Richie!" Stan barked. "Calm your shit, we have no idea what's going on either. Why're you here?" By now Richie had calmed, though only just a bit. Bill circled 'round his living room, paying extra attention to the new family photos on the wall. New as in he hadn't seen them before, but they all included Georgie, who had died four years ago, and the strangest of all... anything dated after July of 2016 had Richie in it. Richie was in the Denbrough family photos. "I have absolutely no idea why I'm here! I woke up half an hour ago to fucking Georgie banging on the door of the room I was in! Bill, tell me you know something!" He practically screamed.