Beacon Hills 1983

Chapter 44: Castle Byers

(Teen wolf + Stranger Things)

Billy shrugs.
"That's it. I've told you everything."
He begins to walk away.

"Not everything." I stop him.
"What about Timothée?"

Billy is staggered,
"How do you even kn-"
"It doesn't matter." I cut him off,
"You both have the same problem, don't you?"
He stares, hesitant to answer, "I... I can't tell you that."
"Why not?" I persist.
"Because, I just can't." Billy regains his self-assurance and speaks louder, "Tim and I had a deal."
"A deal?" I laugh sarcastically, then switch back to seriousness.
"Billy, you don't understand how important it is that you tell me-"
"No." He shakes his head, not letting me finish, "I really don't have to tell you anything, Nes. And, I don't know what it is that's suddenly made you feel comfortable with me,"

He's kidding, right?

Billy's the one who got comfortable with ME in New Orleans...

"but at first, all you wanted to know about was your sister- which made sense. Now you already know too much, and yet still ask questions. Just quit pestering me, and run along with your little girl friend's to do whatever it is you three do. But leave me alone."

And with that, he turns and goes.
I see him light another cigarette on his way out of the woods.

I'm sick of him.

"What a dumbass."

And I thought we were finally making peace with each other.

Its disappointing to know he thinks nothing of that moment in New Orleans, but honestly, not that surprising.
I knew well enough he'd ruin it like this, and am glad we didn't actually kiss.

I sigh and start walking, thinking of ways to get Billy to express himself in his kanima form.

Or Timothée.

I cringe at the thought of either one of them growing scales and a tail.

My curiosity drives me to wonder what 'deal' Timothée has with Billy, and if it has anything to do with their... supernatural side.
I growl in frustration.
If Billy just weren't so stubborn-

A familiar scent tickles my nose.

It's him.

His scent leads me deeper into the woods.

Now, a few steps ahead of me, lies a small structure, made out of branches, twigs and logs- much like a tree house, but on the ground.
The boy's unmistakable scent; old books, vanilla and a dash of peach is definitely coming from inside the branch structure.
Right at the top, smeered in bold yellow paint are the words 'Castle Byer's'.
I shudder, recalling the surname of the missing boy from the posters.

It belongs to Will Byers.

I slightly pull back the old curtain blocking the entrance and say,
"What are you doing in here?"
I don't so much as startle the boy.
He's lying down in the small, but surprisingly voluminous space, Walkman on, journal in hand, too lost in sketching to acknowledge my presence.
I clear my throat, and open the curtain wider,
"Timothée!"

The boy jumps in fright, dropping his journal in the process.
He takes off his headphones, and puts a hand on his chest in relief, when seeing me.
"Jesus! You didn't have to scare me like that!"
I shake my head at his oblivion.

How can one become so engrossed in something, they actually zone out what's going on around them?

Taylan does it all the time.

I'll never understand it.

"What are you doing in a missing boy's castle?"
"Castle...?"
He seems confused for second.
"Ohh, you mean this thing?"
Then his light bulb flickers.
"I was strolling through the woods and it seemed like a quiet place to draw."
"But, your hotel room is a quiet place to draw." I point out.

He seems to like strolling in the woods...

Timothée grabs his journal, and picks up where he left off on his sketch.
"I like being outside."
"Interesting," I enter the castle and sit in front of him, "although, I'd see you as more of an indoor person."
He looks up with vibrant green eyes, like giant fields of fresh summer grass, and smiles.
"Are you stereotyping me, Nes?"

Billy really put me in a dull mood, but Timothée's pleasant aura makes me smile, "Maybe I am."
He turns back to the sketch.
I try to peep at what he's so focused on drawing, but he holds the journal at an angle that prevents me from seeing.
"So. What are you drawing?" I try to sound casual.
He shrugs, "It's nothing- really. Just something I'm... trying to remember."
My ears snap to attention.

I've gotta see what he's drawing.

"Remember?" I coax.
"Yeah. From... a dream or something."
"Oh." I say, expecting him to continue.
"Yeah." He replies, clearly showing his disinterest in talking about the subject.

I sigh, and skim the walls of the castle.
They're full of beautifully illustrated drawings of wizards and all kinds of fantasy.
I trace my fingers over the one that says, 'Will the Wise', and feel a pang of sadness in my chest.

I really do hope this boy is okay.

"He seems quite talented." Timothée says, acknowledging my admiration
of the missing boy's art.
I turn back to him, "I'm sure you were this talented at his age too."
He blushes slightly,
"Nah. I don't think so."

I have an idea.

"Well, you're definitely talented now."
"I disagree with that, Nes." He laughs.
"Oh c'mon! Show me what you're drawing, let me judge."
Timothée seems dubious on whether to show me or not, but eventually hands me the journal.

My eyes grow wide at the image before them.
Time slows down, my heart skips several beats.

One half of his handsome, familiar face exposed. The other, colonized by proliferating reptilian scales. His canines grown to fangs, and eyes narrowed to slits.

The kanima in transition.

And it's not Timothée or Billy.