Chapter Text
Tonight, he saw it again. Well, he felt it first, pressing at the corners of his mind, thickening the air in his small bedroom. And now he sees it, a shadow in the corner, darker than the ambient darkness of nighttime that surrounds it. In the center, two piercing golden lights glow in the way a cat’s eyes would, when they reflect a bit of light in the darkness.
The first night Dick saw it, he panicked, stumbling out of bed to grab clumsily at his gun and aim it at the figure. Those same chilling dots of yellow he had seen in the sewers, boring into him. Stripping him bare, prying into his psyche.
It had found him, and it was here to kill him. But something stayed his finger as it trembled against the trigger. For one, the monster wasn't attacking. Just… Watching. Silent. It was almost worse. Almost.
For another, as it stood there it emanated something. Some kind of nonverbal message of dominance, threat, and intimidation. Like a wolf baring its teeth at a younger pup, begging confrontation if it was disrespected. It effectively scared off the dead, and for the first time since it had ripped open the box he had carefully sealed away in his mind, he knew peace.
“Why are you here?” he asked it, still holding the gun, though he knew it would be useless if the thing decided to attack him.
It stayed perfectly still for a moment, then its head slowly tilted to the side in a way that could have been cute if it was some kind of small, furry animal, but as it was only served to send a chill down his spine. The bells on its costume jingled faintly as it moved.
“That little light inside your head,” it said at last, voice low and devoid of the farcical mirth it usually holds when addressing children, “So interesting… So special.”
Dick swallowed thickly, feeling beads of sweat form on his forehead the longer they stood in this stalemate.
It stepped forward suddenly, so that the moonlight filtering through Dick’s bedroom window illuminated half its face, its red lips pulled into a smile as it gazed coolly at him from beneath its brow. Dick’s heart raced.
“I can smell your fear from here,” it said, saliva slowly dripping down its lips. “So, so, sweet.”
It said the last word with a sharp punctuation, and Dick shot the gun.
His roommates barged in a moment later, but the clown was gone, and just as quickly the cacophony of the dead erupted back into his consciousness and he shoved past them, into the kitchen to grab himself a drink.
It happened again, after the Black Spot. He was in a new home now, small and dingy, but his. This time when it came it was the first to break the silence.
“Poor little Dickie, day in and day out, burdened with the murmurs of the damned,” it cackled. “But not while Pennywise is here! Lucky for you.”
It moved quickly, and before Dick could do anything it was in his space, face inches from his own, its weight pressing him down into the bed. Dick raised an arm to push it back but it grabbed his wrist and held it so tight he could hardly move it.
“You're the one that opened the box and caused this bullshit in the first place!” he snapped, anger momentarily winning out over the fear of this creature that could rip his guts out without breaking a sweat.
“Oh yes,” it laughed hideously again, “I can feel your power, Dickie. So much stronger than you know. It pulses out of you like a beacon, and you shut it away. Sad to waste such a gift, when most humans are weak, useless, fragile little things.” It spat the end of the sentence out with a disdain that frightened Dick even more.
“You don’t know me,” he gritted out. Its grip on his wrist was beginning to numb his hand.
“Not yet,” it said, golden eyes locked onto Dick’s own.
Finally it let him go and receded back into the darkness. Dick’s wrist throbbed, and when he looked at it the next day, a blotchy purple bruise had bloomed along it and swelled the flesh until it was almost as thick as his hand.
The next day he saw it, he thought it was finally the end. He had gotten in its head, and this small victory over it, even if only momentarily, brought him a sense of satisfaction.
It went to sleep. That was the end of it, at least for a good chunk of his lifetime.
But as life continued on, he felt it. Or, at least, his shine did. Its inescapable presence, itching at the edges of his mind, hidden but most definitely awake. It was watching him, lingering, waiting.
Ever since Rose gave him that root or whatever it was, the voices stopped again. The clown’s presence wouldn't make a difference. But he still turned those interactions over in his mind, wondering why it had done that. Why it came to him twice and just… watched him. He couldn't decide if it was genuinely interested in him because of his shine, or if it was just toying with him.
What could it possibly gain from this?
And now it’s here again, its shape in the corner of his room, its eyes like headlights cutting through the night.
He sits up abruptly, the sheets sliding off his body.
“Miss me, Dickie?” its lilting voice coos, red lips forming the taunting nickname. A quiet breeze floats the sheer curtains behind it like a ghost.
“I thought you went to sleep,” he says.
It hums, starting to walk towards him. “You kept me up!” Then it begins to frown and mime an exaggerated human sadness, wailing, “Poor Pennywise couldn't sleep! This… this light! Like a flashlight in my face, taunting me. No…I can't sleep now.”
The bed sinks as it climbs onto it, then begins to crawl its way up towards Dick, who feels frozen in its gaze like helpless prey, until its body hovers over him.
It’s face right in front of his again, big eyes staring into his soul, its blown pupils swallowing the gold so much that Dick could see his own reflection in the pools of black.
“What are you hiding from me?” It hisses, voice no longer exaggerated and toying, but low. Like a soft growl. He feels it in his chest.
“What?” he asks weakly, trying to control his fear as best he can.
“You got into my head. Trapped me.” it definitely comes out as a growl this time, and Dick’s heart stutters.
“I…” he clears his throat when his first word comes out a little breathless, “It’s not… What does it matter?” He feels stupid for trying to stand up to this creature, that he could even consider being brave in the face of it, but he also feels like he shouldn't have to give anything else to it. It killed and ate people, wreaked havoc over Derry, traumatizing its denizens and creating nightmares in the minds of innocent people.
Not that Dick necessarily considers himself to be the most morally righteous person, but this being is pure–
“Evil?” It asks, finishing his thought and laughing to itself.
Dick’s blood runs cold.
It inches forward and Dick holds his breath as it inhales his scent then licks its sharp teeth with its tongue, as if it’s restraining itself from biting him.
“Your people were the ones that cooked you all like worms in the sun. I’m drawn to the horror you commit, and I feed off the cruelty you propagate. Your evils and horrors are your own, the thrill of the hunt just wouldn't be so thrilling without it,” it muses, thoughtful and aware in a way Dick would never have expected of it.
“Those were not my people the other night,” he retorts quickly, automatically. It’s talking about the Black Spot, and It’s right in one thing. It didn't start that fire.
It sneers.
“You’re all the same to me.”
Then it pauses, thinking.
“Well, most of you,” it grins, lips shining with saliva.
Dick can't take it anymore. He can't fathom that this creature has fixated on him, can't even start to puzzle together why or how it's on top of him, touching him, and he’s not dead or being eaten alive.
He closes his eyes and focuses his shine, feeling for the other in his psyche. The creature’s psychic presence is almost so large it’s hard to pin down, but Dick remains focused. He begins to press into the mind of the other like a needle to a giant balloon, until it actually falters, inching back. Its eyes narrow to slits.
“Get… Out!” he yells, and he spears his shine into that balloon, shoving It back as he tries to get it to pop. He’s not sure what that would have done to a human, if he could have even done it to a human without breaking them, but as it is, the clown jerks back, its gaze frenzied.
Suddenly it grabs him by the throat, lifting his upper body and slamming him into the wall behind him. The bed creaks loudly and the light of his bedside lamp stutters from the impact. Its mouth peels open impossibly wide to reveal rows and rows of teeth and it growls, saliva dripping in globs from its jaw.
This is it.
But then it pulls its mouth closed, keeping its hand on his throat but lessening the pressure.
“Tricky, tricky, Dickie,” it growls, “Play nice.”
And then it’s gone, retreating into the shadows again.
Dick collapses back into his bed in a pool of sweat, heart pounding. He’s going to have to get so fucking fucked up tomorrow.