Hawkins hadn’t changed much since 1986. The air still smelled like wet pine and cigarette smoke, the trailer park still buzzed with dying porch lights, and the stars still blinked like they knew too much.

The real difference was Eddie Munson, casually stepping out of the woods behind Forest Hills like he hadn’t been brutally torn apart by demobats and left to rot in another dimension.

Only now, he wore sunglasses at night.

And carried a black umbrella.

And, oh yeah—had fangs, a pulse you could barely detect, and two bat-like wings, folded tight to his back like something out of a horror comic. They were still small, like he hadn’t finished growing into them, and his old Hellfire Club shirt barely hid the way they twitched when he got too worked up.

“Eddie?” came the voice, breathless and disbelieving.

Dustin Henderson stood frozen near the edge of the trailer park, frozen soda in one hand, his bike dropped to the gravel. His eyes scanned Eddie’s silhouette—pale skin that never tanned anymore, smudges of sunscreen on his neck, a red band tied around his umbrella handle like a flag of surrender.

Eddie grinned, fangs glinting under the streetlight. “Henderson,” he crooned, voice raspy but unmistakably him. “Miss me?”

“You’re dead.”

“Technically undead,” Eddie corrected, holding up one finger. “Let’s not get dramatic. Well—more dramatic.”

Dustin rushed forward before he could stop himself, and Eddie stepped back with a hiss, clutching the umbrella tighter.

“Whoa whoa—careful, I burn faster than a vampire at a Fourth of July barbecue.” He gestured to the sunscreen slathered unevenly across his arms. “This? Fifty SPF. It’s practically my cologne now.”

Dustin’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“But how—?”

Eddie sighed. “Long story. Involves a portal, a very flirty vampire queen, a lot of blood, and apparently, my soul being ‘too loud’ to stay dead.”

Dustin blinked. “Your soul was too loud?”

“I asked her to define that,” Eddie shrugged. “She said I had the energy of a haunted jukebox and a dying star. I took it as a compliment.”

He twirled the umbrella over his shoulder with flair, his tiny wings twitching under his faded denim vest. They peeked out like stubborn elbows—leathery, dark, almost cute in a horrifying kind of way.

“Why come back now?” Dustin finally asked, voice cracking.

Eddie tilted his head. “I heard the town still thinks I’m a cult leader. Can’t leave a legacy like that hanging, man. Also, I missed hot showers. And you guys.”

Dustin wiped his sleeve across his face. “Steve’s gonna faint.”

“Can I watch?”

“Absolutely.”

Eddie chuckled, but it was quieter now. He glanced toward the town—its cracked sidewalks and flickering neon signs. “It’s weird, you know? Coming back like this. I don’t sleep, I don’t breathe much, and I have urges I’d rather not talk about around toddlers or priests.”

“But you’re still… you?”

Eddie hesitated. Then he knelt, dropping to Dustin’s eye level. His fangs disappeared behind a crooked, tired smile.

“I’m still Eddie. I still love Dio and garbage movies. I still hate math. I still remember every minute of that day in the Upside Down. And I still think you’re the bravest nerd I’ve ever met.”

Dustin’s lip trembled. “You have wings.”

“They’re baby wings,” Eddie scoffed. “Like a vampire duckling.”

“They’re weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“Fair.”

They laughed—awkward, shaky, but real.

Behind them, the wind rustled through the pine trees. The trailer lights flickered.

Eddie stood, umbrella steady overhead. “I should go before I catch fire. But tell the others, okay? Not everything stays buried. Some stories claw their way back for an encore.”

He turned, his silhouette long and strange under the humming streetlight. His wings flared slightly, catching the glow like stained glass.

Dustin watched him disappear into the night, heart hammering.

Eddie Munson was back.

And Hawkins would never be the same.