Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Season of the Witch

"Season of the Witch"

And when I look in my window

So many different people to be

That it's strange, so strange

- Donovan

Halloween morning. Hopper felt guilty for how many late nights there had been—he tried to get home at a regularly scheduled time, he really did, but police work wasn't a regularly scheduled job—so he got up early and made French toast. The kid should have more home-cooked food, fewer TV dinners and meals out of a box, but with only him ... And he didn't really remember how to stick to routines and get the food shopping done on time. For years now he had eaten at the diner, or picked up something on the way home, or skipped food entirely and lived on beer. Getting back into a routine was harder than he had imagined it would be.

Still, the French toast looked pretty good, if he said so himself. He'd been an okay cook, once upon a time, finding whatever he could make that Sara would want to eat, when the chemo had her sick to her stomach. A bite here and there was as good as gold.

He flipped it again, trying to concentrate on the perfect golden brown and not think about Sara, when a sound behind him made him turn around.

A specter stood there, white and floating. He yelled without thinking, before realizing it was Eleven in a sheet with holes cut out of it. "Oh, Jesus."

"Ghost," Eleven corrected, in her precise diction.

"Yeah, I see that."

As he carried the pan to the counter, she turned to follow him. "Halloween."

"Sure is." He portioned the French toast out onto the plates, next to the bacon. "But right now it's breakfast, okay? C'mon, let's eat." He grabbed his cup of coffee and balanced it in one hand while he picked up the plates.

Eleven didn't move, standing there and staring at him through the holes in the sheet. "They wouldn't see me," she pointed out.

"Who wouldn't see you?"

"The bad men."

He put the plates down on the table. "What are you talking about?" he asked as he took his seat.

"Trick. Or. Treat," she said, slowly, as though he was being particularly thick.

Apparently he was, because it had never occurred to him what she meant by all this with the sheet. "You want to go trick-or-treating?"

She nodded.

Panic flooded him. He couldn't let her go. Not now. They were so close to being safe. Just a little longer. He couldn't give her up yet.

Getting to his feet, Hopper said, "You know the rules." He caught her by the shoulders.

"Yes, but—"

"Yeah, so you know the answer."

"No, but, I don't—they wouldn't see me!"

He was propelling her backwards, away from the table, and he broke into her protests uncompromisingly. "Hey. I don't care." He kept going, talking over her. "I don't care, all right? You go out there, ghost or not, it's a risk. We don't take risks. All right? They're stupid. And?" He waited.