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only i must wander, chapter seven

[on ao3] [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four] [part five] [part six]

content warnings: graphic depictions of violence

a/n: this is the penultimate chapter of act one! if you've been putting it off, this is a great time to start reading.

"What a fucking night, am I right?" Eddie's voice was tense, leaning toward hysterical on its way to jovial. The van echoed silence back, the labored breathing of five tired kids the only response.

Steve gave Eddie a small smile through the rearview mirror. He appreciated what Eddie was trying to do-- They'd never had a jokester on their team; Mostly Dustin just kept everyone from freaking out by relentlessly bullying everyone around him. It was a good attempt to keep them all from dwelling on what had just happened, but Steve couldn't bring himself to laugh.

He would probably still be crying if he wasn't so dehydrated.

They had loaded him into the back of the van with the kids while he'd been in the throes of his breakdown. Erica had climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, not a single word spoken as he sobbed into her hair. She slept now, head on Steve's shoulder, and he tried not to flinch when the bad shocks on the van shifted her weight onto his bullet wound.

Dustin hadn't looked at him the entire drive home. Even after Steve had stopped crying and started responding to Eddie's nervous commentary, Dustin hadn't looked up from his own shoes. Steve would honestly be worried about the kid if he couldn't feel the resentment in the air. It was obvious that Dustin was pissed, and probably at Steve, but he was too fucking tired to figure out why.

"Where am I even going, Steve?" Eddie asked, when the silence hung a little too long for comfort.

"Not to my house," Steve said, automatically. "Or any house that might be in their records."

"You think someone might be coming after you?" Eddie asked, eyes darting around the road behind them as if black SUVs were going to spawn into existence.

"I have no idea," Steve admitted. "It didn't look like there were many... survivors, but if we made it out we have to believe that someone else might have, too. Plus, you know, there's no telling who they called while we were in there--"

"They're going to blame us for this." Robin's voice was shaky and vague, disconnected from the conversation. "I can fucking feel it."

"There's no way this gets public enough to need someone to blame it on," Steve said.

"How are they going to cover up that many explosions?" Robin demanded. Steve winced as her voice rose, and decided to count himself lucky that she was still checked in enough to yell at him. "In the middle of nowhere?"

"Fourth of July," Dustin said, dully. He still didn't look up.

"Exactly." Steve nodded. "Besides, the public doesn't even know about the lab-- Framing this as an attack would just invite unnecessary attention."

"So we're..." Eddie frowned, and Steve watched his eyebrows knit together in the mirror. "Waiting to see who comes after us?"

"There's too many reasons for them to want us dead to just assume that everything's going to be okay now," Steve said, voice grave. Sure, the last two years had been light enough on the government secrets that Steve had flown under the radar, but Nancy had never let him forget just how close he had come. He'd felt hunted, watched, for every moment he and Nancy were together, and now he felt the target on his back with a certainty he'd rarely felt about anything else.

"Why would they possibly--" Eddie tried, but Steve couldn't let them ignore this.

"We've seen things that no other Wesen has, and left alive," Steve interrupted. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Erica or scare Robin, but firm. They had to hear this. They had to understand why he had never wanted to involve them in all this, and why they had to watch their backs now that they knew. "Robin wasn't involved in the last two run-ins, but my name was all over their reports. After what we saw in there, I probably know more about the Upside Down and Project Indigo than anyone besides Brenner himself. They'd have to be stupid to not come after us. And probably Nancy and Murray and Joyce, too, considering they were the ones actually paying attention the first two times--"

"So what do you do now? How do you usually get them to leave you alone?"

It wasn't a bad question, if only Steve had actually known the answer. Hopper and Mrs. Byers usually handled the suits, doing their duty as the only adults on their side. If a kid had to get involved, it was usually Nancy or Jonathan. The most Steve had ever done was sign a few papers under Hopper's watchful eye. Now, as far as he knew, the government had never actually come after any of them for what they knew, not since Brenner's death. Dr. Owens had felt too guilty for that.

The only person they'd had to actively hide was El, and she hadn't had a real identity to cover up. This was going to be... difficult.

"Historically?" Steve said, wincing. "Fake your death and go into hiding."

"Should I even be heading towards Hawkins right now?" Eddie asked, "I mean, I'd take you to the trailer, but I don't want to get Wayne involved in all this--"

"Of course not, man." Steve never would have even thought of going to Wayne with this. The man had already done more than could be expected, and Steve already felt guilty over dragging Eddie into this. If something were to happen to them, it would already hurt the old Blutbad enough to lose his nephew. There was no reason to make Wayne Munson another missing person in Hawkins, Indiana.

No, they were on their own here.

"--and there's no way we have enough first aid to make sure Harrington here doesn't die of an infection," Eddie continued, narrowing his eyes at Steve in the mirror.

"I think I hit my death limit for the day," Steve joked weakly. "I'm practically immortal, now."

He tapped Dustin's foot with his own, trying to get the kid to smile. Dustin blinked down at the van floor, the frown on his face immovable. "We should go to the cabin," he said.

"Cabin?" Eddie echoed.

"Hop has a cabin in the woods behind my house," Steve said. "My little sister lives there. It's the safest place I can think of, and I need... I need to see her."

"Not your sister," Dustin mumbled under his breath. Steve ignored him. If the kid wanted to piss him off out of some weird sense of revenge, he would have to try a lot harder than that.

Steve just really needed to be with El right now. She was probably the only person who would understand what he had just gone through-- Robin could, too, maybe, but she hadn't been there. She hadn't seen the things they'd done to him, and she didn't know what it felt like to die. Maybe El didn't either, at least Steve hoped she didn't, but Steve knew that whatever she had gone through in the labs, it was something close to what he had just lived through.

He didn't know if he planned on telling her or not. He wasn't sure if that would help either of them, in the long run. What he was sure of, though, was that just being near her would help. He just wanted to hold her close for a moment, her in one arm and Dustin in the other, if the kids would allow it, and just breathe. Just for a moment. Maybe... half an hour, if the world would stop falling apart around them.

Steve tightened his hold on Erica just a little, all the gentle care he wanted to give El with nowhere else to go.

Hopper's cabin would be the safest place, anyway. It wasn't listed under any recognizable name, if it was listed anywhere, and Hop would know what to do. He would know the right people to call, how to keep Eddie from getting the blowback. More importantly, he would be able to get in touch with Mrs. Byers so Steve could make sure that whatever those zombies were, they didn't have anything to do with Will.

God, he really hoped they didn't have anything to do with Will. He hadn't seen the kid lose his shit last year, but he'd had nightmares over what little Nancy and Mike had told him. He couldn't imagine what Jonathan had gone through, in those few weeks. If that kind of thing had happened to Dustin or El, Steve would have lost his mind.

The idea that now it was happening to multiple people, that it was spreading was-- It was--

Steve's stomach flipped.

The rest of the drive into Hawkins was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could possibly be with Eddie and Robin's compulsive rambling. Steve let them go at it for miles, their high, frightened monologues tripping over each other all the way home. He'd long since learned to half-listen to Robin's scattered theories, and it was easy to tune Eddie out with her, letting their voices merge into one humming melody in the back of Steve's head. He kept his brain focused on the quieter, more important sounds-- Erica's heartbeat next to his own, the rhythm of Dustin's breathing. Eddie's steady tapping on the steering wheel was the unceasing undercurrent for the symphony, accompanied by the soft scratch of Robin's nails against her skin.

Steve passed the miles in a haze, and he was barely awake when they rolled to a stop in front of Hopper's cabin. He had no idea how Eddie had even found the place-- Had he really been so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard Dustin's sulking directions?

Dustin scrambled out of the back of the van with a clatter, throwing the doors open before Eddie had even properly parked. The sound roused Erica, but Steve simply scooped her up against his chest and followed after him. As Robin and Eddie got out of the van, both still mumbling to each other quietly, Steve scanned the woods.

The cabin was always quiet, but today the silence had a strange quality to it that Steve couldn't place. Hopper's beat up truck was nowhere to be found, but that wasn't so unusual; The man did, after all, have to put in some face time at both work and his legal address, if only to keep up appearances. Still, there was a stillness to the trees that Steve didn't like, and the absence of birdsong only made him more paranoid.

Speaking of paranoia, where the hell was El? Hopper had warned her to hide at the first possible sign of other people, an instruction that she hardly ever followed. Half the time Steve pulled up now, she was out of the door before he even crested the last turn, sprinting to throw her arms around Steve or Dustin. If Hopper wasn't home, she'd spend entire hours lounging in the grass next to the cabin and staring up at the clouds. But she didn't call for him, and Steve didn't hear any movement from inside the cabin.

Had El been scared off by the unfamiliar van? Steve doubted it. Eddie's shitty vehicle didn't exactly scream government, but Steve didn't think that El would just sit around and wait to be found if someone suspicious pulled up to their very secret safehouse. Besides, Steve and Dustin were here. Where was she?

Dustin threw open the door with the nonchalance of a child who'd never had to foot the bill at Lowe's.

"Eleven! It's us!" There was no answer from inside the cabin. "Jane?" he tried again, tentatively. Still, there was no answer. Dustin walked further into the shadows of the dark, empty cabin, and with a grimace, Steve followed.

They had both been in the cabin dozens of times in the last month; Steve found himself there most nights Hop had to work, just to give El a change in company. Steve had never been in the cabin alone, though. El had always been there, and more often than not, Hop was, too. He had never seen the cabin in the dark, never seen the warm, brown tones of the living room bathed in grey. Being alone was something Steve had gotten used to, over the years-- Loneliness settled over his life like dust, a film over every inch of the Harrington house. Seeing it here, where before there had only been warmth and light, unsettled him.

Erica struggled in Steve's grip, beginning to mumble under her breath in her sleep. Although every instinct told Steve to clutch her tighter to his chest, Steve forced himself to kneel beside the big over-stuffed couch by the door and settle her onto the cushions.

"El?" Dustin called, from the back of El's room. "El, where are you? Fuck! El!"

"Dustin, calm down," Robin said. She and Eddie had crept to the edges of the doorway, peeking in. Steve got why they might be a little hesitant to come in to the police chief's secret hideout, but he didn't have time to coax them into being normal about it. "Maybe she went out?"

"She's not allowed!" Panic had begun to creep into Dustin's voice.

"Maybe she just snuck out with Max again," Steve said, trying to be as soothing as he possibly could with his hoarse voice. "She probably just got bored while we were, uh, gone."

"Oh, so everyone was just hanging out without me, huh?" Dustin pouted.

"Totally not the time, loser," Erica said, sleepily.

Steve almost reminded her to be nice to her brother, until he remembered that, no, Dustin wasn't Erica's brother-- and Erica's real brother was somewhere out there where Steve couldn't keep him safe. Somewhere that might already be crawling with zombies or evil scientists or who knows what else.

"Should we call... uh, Max?" Eddie asked, taking a small step into the house.

"No, they never hang out there because Max's brother is a fucking creep," Dustin answered. "There's no telling where they are. Maybe we should call Mike and Lucas, and see if they know?"

Steve ignored them, looking around the cabin for any sign of where either of its inhabitants might be. Hopper's jacket wasn't hanging on the hook, which meant he was wearing his uniform, wherever he was. El hadn't left anything on the table, no book or crafts, so she'd at least left of her own voilition-- Steve took a few steps into the kitchen nook, peeking at the dishes left in the kitchen sink, when he saw a note laying on the little free counter space.

It was Hopper's handwriting, scrawled hastily and cramped onto the back of a sloppily torn off ticket. It read:

Got a call. Going in. Be back before dinner with Steve. Love you. Dad.

Dinner with Steve.

Dinner with Steve?

"Fuck," Steve cursed as the realization finally clicked into place. "Fuck fuck fuck."

"What?" Eddie asked, crossing the room to Steve's side with long strides.

"I was supposed to come over for dinner last night," Steve said. The note crumpled in his clenched fist. Hopper had told him to come over for dinner the morning before, and Steve had foolishly thought there would be plenty of time for family dinner after a time meeting. There had been no plans for daring rescues, after all.

Robin's face creased in confused compassion. "I think they'll forgive--"

"No, Rob, I mean that this letter hasn't moved, and the fact that's it's still here means that they haven't been home since yesterday," Steve said. He could hear the agression in his own voice, could feel himself start to shout, but he didn't know how to stop it and keep his hands from shaking. "Where the fuck--"

Eddie's hand landed on Steve's back, a warm, stable presence. He left it there, not rubbing or patting, but just... holding. Supporting. "Maybe they're out looking for you?" he offered.

"And they didn't try the walkie?" Steve asked. "They didn't try and find Dustin?"

Robin and Eddie shared a look. "Alright, enough," Eddie said. He spoke in that deep, fake voice that Steve himself put on when the kids were pissing him off. The kind of voice you used when you desperately wanted to seem like the authority in the group. "I get you're freaked out, Steve, but you need to take care of yourself first."

"No, I-- Something's wrong," Steve said, and the truth of it settled into his ribs like lead. "We have to go look for them."

What if the government knew about the cabin? What if they had known to look for Steve there, and they had found El? Sure, there was no sign of a struggle, but what if they had used Steve somehow, or Hopper-- Fuck, had Hopper actually been looking for him last night? Was it possible that in their own panic, Erica, Dustin, and Eddie hadn't heard him on the walkie?

"I get it, man, I really do," Eddie said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard by the blood rushing in Steve's ears, "but you're not going to be able to help them without a few stitches and a nap, man."

"They're-- No, you don't get it. They're my family, and they need me, I can't--"

"Enough!" Dustin shouted, his angry voice breaking through Steve and Eddie's quiet argument. He stood in the hallway outside of El's room, his teary eyes narrowed in anger. He glared at them both, Steve and Eddie, as if they were the ones who had taken El away, as if they had meant for him to be alone and scared. And maybe he was right. Maybe it was their fault. "You've done enough for one day, Steve," Dustin said, spitting every word out of his mouth like they disgusted him. "Stop making shit harder on everyone and just wait on the fucking bench for a second, okay?"

Silence filled the cabin as Dustin stomped through the living room, straight past them and out the front door.

Dustin certainly got what he wanted-- Steve shut the fuck up. Shut down, really. He could barely feel the tips of his fingers as he watched Dustin disappear through the door. He was so sick of this. So sick of fucking up so often, always in front of the kids. Erica was staring at him now, her big brown eyes locked on him as he struggled not to just let himself drop to the floor and give up.

Eddie was the first to get his wits about him. "Erica," he said, "Why don't you go change into something you haven't been wearing all day? I'm sure Steve's sister has something you can change into." He then turned back to Steve, voice dipping low enough the kids couldn't hear. "Where does Hop keep the first aid kit?"

"In his room," Steve mumbled. Right nightstand, second drawer. It took up nearly the whole thing, and they had extra bandages and antiseptic stuff in the gaps on the sides. They'd restocked after using half Hop's supply on Steve's head last fall.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up. Rob, you should probably--"

"I'm gonna take a shower," Robin interrupted. She looked down at Steve's blood-soaked polo. "You think your sister has a sweatshirt big enough for me to steal?"

"I think..." Steve took a deep breath, trying to remember. "I think she stole a couple of mine for pajamas last fall. They should be in there somewhere."

With Erica and Robin safe in El's room, and Dustin doing God knew what outside, Steve silently led Eddie into Hopper's room. Whatever nervous energy had kept Eddie rambling had apparently run out, because he didn't say a word, either. Not that Steve minded. His brain wasn't exactly busy, but there definitely wasn't room for a conversation in there. He barely had room for his own thoughts; Every single emotion had to be carefully handled, or the whole damn thing would fall apart in his hands.

Metaphorical hands.

Although, Steve thought as he sat on the floor, leaning against Hopper's bed, his real hands weren't doing so hot either. He still hadn't got them to stop shaking, even as he pressed them against stiff, stained denim.

Eddie pulled the first aid kit from the drawer, directed by Steve's exhausted gesturing, leaving it open as he dropped to the floor in front of Steve. He said nothing as he poured some antiseptic onto a clean bandage, only frowned at the sluggishly bleeding wound on Steve's shoulder as if it had somehow wrong him.

And maybe it had. Steve didn't know how this zombie shit worked. He still felt like himself, but maybe it was just like the movies. Maybe Steve had doomed them all by getting bit. Maybe Dustin was right, and he had ruined everything by always trying to save the day. Then again, the zombie hadn't given him much choice, and--

No, Steve thought angrily. Dustin didn't get to start yelling accusations and get the privilege of Steve taking them seriously. The little shit had begged Steve to do this, practically forced him to become this monster, and now he was mad at Steve for, what? Being a monster? Not dying when a human would have long since given up? Dustin didn't get to be mad at him for this, Steve decided, and he definitely didn't get to stop him. Nobody would stop him, not when Steve had finally found the one thing he was good at.

"You know Henderson didn't mean that, right?" Eddie asked. The man didn't look up from where he was cleaning the bite mark on Steve's shoulder, the careful dab and sting of bandage against the wound. Steve wouldn't have even thought he was the one Eddie was talking to if they hadn't been the only two people in the room.

"I've never seen him that angry before," Steve said. "Especially not at me."

"Stop. The kid fucking adores you, man," Eddie said, throwing the soiled bandage to the side and prepping a new one. "He's just... scared."

Steve snorted. "I've been babysitting Dustin for over half a year now, and that kid is never scared. Not even when you beg him to be."

Eddie froze for just a moment, hesitating before shaking his head and continuing. "He fucking freaked when you got taken, Steve," he said. His hands were steady, but he couldn't hide the shake in his voice. "I mean, we all were, but Dustin couldn't stop crying."

Steve couldn't remember if he'd ever seen Dustin cry before. Maybe once, in the tunnels, when he was saying goodbye? The memories from the tunnels were hazy, at best, and Steve had never found the right questions or the right time to ask them. Was that the last time Dustin had cried, or just the last time he had let Steve see it? Steve didn't know what to do with the knowledge that Dustin had cried without him. For him, but without him. Steve forgave Dustin a little; He was starting to hate himself, too.

"You know when you're a kid, and you cry so hard you can't breathe? I thought he was going to pass out, but he just kept going. For fucking hours, man. He was just sobbing and fighting me, trying to go back. He was convinced that we had left you to die, and I couldn't tell him otherwise, because I didn't want to lie to the little dude." Eddie's voice was choked, like Dustin hadn't been the only one crying. Steve knew what it was like, being the one left behind to care for those who weren't strong enough to care for themselves. It was a tough, thankless job, and Eddie deserved a lot better than being forced to clean up Steve's messes-- physical and emotional.

"Dustin always throws himself into these things," Steve said. "He cares a lot about the people around him."

"He cares a lot about you. If he always puts himself on the frontline of this shit, it's only because you taught him how to do it," Eddie said, pressing just a little harder against Steve's shoulder as if to remind him why they were here.

"That's not--"

"I'm serious, Harrington," Eddie said. "If Henderson has a weird savior complex, then it's only because he wants to stick with his big brother, who has one so big he has a government conspiracy against his own parents."

Steve closed his eyes, resisting the urge to groan. Had Dustin told literally everyone in Hawkins about Steve and Hopper's plan? "I can't believe he told you. That's supposed to be, like, top secret Party shit."

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said, chuckling. "You have the life of a DND character, I hope you know that."

"So they keep telling me," Steve sighed. "Well, maybe you can use it in the next campaign. Local dipshit knight pushes away everyone who ever loved him."

"Stop with the pity party," Eddie said, pressing firmly enough that Steve hissed under his breath. "Henderson still loves you, he's just freaked because he realized his real-life hero is even more fragile than the ones he makes up with his friends. He'll come around once he catches his breath."

"... Okay." Steve wasn't sure he agreed, with Eddie or Dustin. He knew he was no hero, even if he turned out to make a pretty good Grimm. Grimms weren't heroes. At least, they shouldn't be. High school had been a slow, stupid journey into figuring out that Steve wasn't the kind of person that anyone should idolize.

Eddie, though, now he would make an excellent hero. Eddie wouldn't pull the kids into violence and mayhem all the time. Eddie would actually share their weird, nerdy interests without griping all the time. Eddie would be able to remember the names of all their favorite characters. Eddie was a good role model. A good person. The fact he was even here with Steve right now was a miracle.

"You're pretty heroic yourself, Munson," Steve said. He tried to keep his voice casual, the way he did when he'd compliment Tommy or one of the other... fixations. "How'd you even track us down?"

"You--" Eddie finally raised his head, confusion written plainly all over his face. He blinked at Steve for a moment before frowning. "Huh, okay. You didn't do it on purpose?"

"Do what?" Steve shifted, his knees pulling to his chest.

"You called us, man." Steve didn't know how to place Eddie's tone. There was an awe to it, like people talked about space, sometimes, or God. But that couldn't be true. Not of anything Steve could do, not from Eddie.

"Wha--"

"I mean, I guess not, if you didn't know," Eddie rushed to clarify. "But we felt you. It was-- Dustin lost it, and I can't blame him, because it made me feel like I was about to break wieder or something. Like-- Like a nightmare."

Steve found himself a little offended by that, somehow, even through all of the confusion. "And you thought it was me?"

"I mean, it was either that or a real monster had shown up." Eddie shrugged, and picked up some guaze. "We were hoping it was you."

"And it led you to me and Robin?"

"We followed it all the way to Lafayette. The closer we got, the thicker it got, until it was almost physical. Or I think maybe it was physical, because this storm started brewing," Eddie continued. He lowered his head again, concentrating on wrapping Steve's shoulder. "Over the power plant the clouds were so thick it was almost pitch black before the sun even set, but it never rained."

"Fuck." There had been nothing about storms or ominous feelings in any of Grandpa Otis's journal entries. If there had been some kind of innate Grimm power meant to call for help, wouldn't World War 2 be the exact time and place you'd want to use it? Or maybe Grandpa Otis hadn't been able to use it, or maybe it was harmful in some way, or maybe--

"We were still trying to figure out how to get to you and Robs when everything went bad," Eddie said.

"If that was me, I guess I can't be too surprised," Steve said. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop on this Grimm busines, and now here it was. Physical and peer-reviewed evidence of Steve's failure. "I have no idea how or why it happened, but it makes sense that the bogey man has better powers than punch real good."

"Yeah."

"Do you--" Steve looked down at the burns on his chest, the tiny biting holes left by the stun gun. "Do you think maybe it was because I died?"

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"Well, I just--" Steve shrugged. "It figures my only useful power is something I'm hopefully never going to use again."

"Stop. Just--" Eddie cut himself off, and Steve watched the woge ripple across his face for just a moment before settling back into calm humanity. Being raised by Wayne Munson must have been a fucking wonder, Steve thought, as Eddie went from the maddest he'd ever seen him to slightly peeved in one long breath. "I didn't spend two days awake and hunting just for you to put yourself down like that, Steve. You're... You're not--"

"Look, I'm-- I know it must be weird to hear it, after all your..." Steve squirmed. "Problems with my parents."

"I don't have--"

"But I don't think they choose to be assholes, really. It's like a fucking curse, man." Here it was, the big secret that Steve couldn't get anyone to believe. "One day I'm going to get angry enough I'm going to end up just like them to get some peace and quiet in my own fucking head. You think I don't see it coming? I know what I'm like when I'm angry, and it's not pretty."

"You forget we went to high school together, Harrington. Hawkins had bigger, angrier guys walking through it's halls on the daily," Eddie said. "I mean, Hargrove was a petty monster, but he was human, and--"

"Oh, Hargrove? You mean the guy I tried to kill?" It was an exaggeration, but Steve was tired of people brushing him off.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "If that was you trying to kill him, you did a pretty shitty job."

"It's not about how good I am at it, Eddie, it's about--" Steve swallowed, trying to figure out how to point his words to finally get them to stick in Eddie's skull. "It's about the fact that if I had just tried to talk to him, maybe I wouldn't have had to try! Maybe he might not have gotten hurt. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Yeah, or maybe he might have gotten away with whatever you were trying to stop him from doing," Eddie pointed out.

Steve had to admit that Eddie kind of had a point with that one. Billy hadn't exactly been thoughtful or tentative in his actions against the kids. If anything, things might have been worse if Steve hadn't stepped in. But would they have? Would they really? Could Steve trust that impulse, or was it just another Grimm instinct that had gotten its teeth into him early? He weakly tried to argue his way out of the corner."That's not... I'm sure it was a misunderstanding, okay? If I had just... explained, about Lucas and Max, then--"

"Lucas and-- He just so happened to be going after Lucas Sinclair? The guy whose little sister we just had to rescue from being kidnapped?" Eddie shook his head. "Steve, you don't reason with guys like that."

"Maybe not! But we'll never know for sure, because I lost my cool and tried to be the fucking hero, and now Max can't bring her boyfriend home, and Tommy Hagan won't even look me in the eyes anymore, and I have these fucking headaches I cannot get rid of--" Steve sucked in a breath, the edge of a sob crushing his throat. "And it's all because I was angry and stressed and heartbroken--"

"Did I ever tell you that my dad is in federal prison for murder?"

Steve stopped, the panic stuck in his throat. He and Eddie held eye contact for a brief, awful moment. It was every reason that Steve hated looking people in the eyes-- He never understood what he found there, but he always felt as though his were giving away all his secrets. It felt like baring himself completely for someone who could never return the favor. For Eddie, though, Steve made himself hold still, so that Eddie could look.

Eddie didn't have many secrets left, anyway. Steve had a feeling he'd just heard the deepest one.

Eventually, Eddie's eyes darted back down to his hands, and Steve felt the grip on his throat loosen enough to say,"Wh-- No. I didn't even-- I didn't even think that was a thing that could happen to wesen."

"It can. Usually if they're too human about it, or if, you know, they turn themselves in," Eddie said, and he shrugged, like the particulars of it didn't matter much. Steve couldn't imagine anything mattering more, but maybe it was less important when it was something you've known all your life.

"Is that why..." Steve didn't know what he was allowed to ask. "Is that why you and Wayne went wieder?"

"Nah. Wayne and my dad went wieder before I was born. Well, technically the exact day I was born," Eddie said, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. "They didn't want me to grow up like they did, the traditional way. They wanted to give me a chance to grow up human."

"So what happened?" Steve asked.

Eddie sighed. "When I was nine, my mom finally caught up to us. She's really traditional." Eddie sat back, leaning against the far wall. It felt easier, with a little distance between them, but Steve was beginning to miss the steady warmth of Eddie's hands. "I don't really blame her for that part. She had about as much choice in it as I do being wieder. But she sent some guys after us, to bring me back to her pack."

"And your dad..." Steve wasn't sure if he wanted to finish the sentence. Sometimes, the way he said facts made other people hear them as accusations-- He couldn't risk losing Eddie to a misunderstanding as stupid as that.

"I don't think he wanted to fight, at first. I don't remember a lot of it, and I was hiding, so--" Eddie waved vaguely, as if he could just bat childhood trauma out of the air like a pesky fly. "My dad was never a big fighter, though. But Wayne was. Wayne was fighting. And then-- And then when the other guys started winning, well--"

"I get it," Steve said, quickly.

"Anyway, the point is: He turned himself in, but not in one time I've seen him since, did I think my dad ever regretted what he did. And that's-- Anytime I get angry, I think about him, in that jail cell. Chipping away at his sentence with good behavior."

Shame settled over Steve faster than it had since Barb (and, God, he could not think about Barb right now, after everything). He had killed someone today, with such ease that it made his stomach turn to think of it. Sure, Robin had helped, but he had been the one to get them into the situation-- The one who had dug his teeth into flesh. The worst part of it was, Steve knew he would have killed more, if given the chance. He had wanted to. He had been so blessedly close to it, a time or two. And there had been no noble reason for it, no righteousness to his actions.

The only motivation that Steve had ever had was anger, plain and simple.

Steve looked down, tears stinging his eyes. "You're a good son," he said, voice thick. "Fuck, Eddie, you're a good person."

"No, I'm not." Eddie leaned in, one of his hands finding Steve's knee. Steve stared down at his clean, strong hands against the bloodied denim and tried not to think too deeply about any of it. "You're missing the point. I'm not a pacifist because that's the right thing to do, Steve. It doesn't make me a better person. Sometimes, it's not even because it's what my dad wants for me. I keep wieder because the alternative fucking terrifies me. If I break it, even once, I don't know what I'll do. I'm not brave enough. I couldn't sit in a chair and stare at Wayne through plastic and smile, and know I did the right thing. I could never--"

"Not being capable of murder is a good thing, Eddie. I get that Wesen society has kind of messed us all up, but--"

"Steve, if someone came through that door right now and tried to kill you, I would let it happen," Eddie said. Steve looked up at him, and saw the truth in Eddie's eyes. "I would let them murder you in front of me, because I'm more scared of what happens if I try to stop it. That's not... That's not good. That's what's legal, that's what's safe, but not for a second do I lie to myself enough to believe that's what's good."

"Eddie," Steve breathed, because he was, he was, Steve would die again just to bask in the light of Eddie's goodness, what part of it wasn't he understanding--

"You're not a monster, Steve," Eddie said, his voice so gentle and kind that it burned Steve from the inside out to hear it. "You're a knight."

"I'm so fucking angry, all the time," Steve sobbed, the only argument he had left.

"Good people get angry when they see evil. Even Jesus threw a few good temper tantrums, I hear."

Steve choked out a laugh, strangled by sobs. It wasn't that funny, not really, especially for a guy who'd never been to church-- But it was the way Eddie said it that made him laugh, the way Eddie's voice curled around the syllables smug and expectant. No, it wasn't funny, but Steve had a very long day, and too much relief and thankfulness in his chest felt, for a moment, like happiness.

"I know we're not exactly best friends, Harrington," Eddie continued, his voice warm, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud to be on your side. I don't know how much of a help I'll be, but I hope I can find even a speck of your courage along the way."

Steve rolled his eyes and let body unravel, muscles slumping with exhaustion. His feet slid across the floor until they came to a stop next to Eddie's own, the rubber tips of Steve's shoes pressing into the fabric of Eddie's. "I don't believe for a second that you're a coward, Munson. A real coward wouldn't have protected Erica and Dustin like that," he said. "And they definitely wouldn't have gone towards the freaky Grimm feeling."

"I barely did anything," Eddie said, looking away. A blush began to creep its way across Eddie's face, subtle in the dim light from Hopper's window. "You wanna talk about bravery, we should be talking about Buckley. The balls on that lady."

Right. Steve had almost let himself forget about the massive crush Eddie had on Robin. It was odd, because if it was someone Steve was into, he'd be with them right now, but here Eddie was. With him. Maybe Eddie was just too shy to invite himself into Robin's shower? Or maybe he was trying to keep a low profile, and make a move after the horror show was over?

Jealousy bloomed in Steve's chest. It figured that he'd go through hell and back to make friends, and then by the end of it all they'd probably be too wrapped up in each other to remember their poor, single dipshit of a friend. Still, the jealousy wasn't enough to overshadow the good that Robin had done in Steve's life. Even in the just the last forty-eight hours, she'd probably become the most loyal friend Steve had ever had. She was definitely the most reliable. There weren't many Robin Buckleys in this world, and Steve wasn't going to let one of his stupid obsessions get in the way of him keeping her around.

"Yeah, she's kind of amazing," Steve admitted.

"I would literally never be able to do that. To stand next to someone and have their back, no matter what happens? Literally staring down the barrel of a gun for love? Maybe we're both wrong, and Robin's the knight in shining armor." Eddie's voice was wistful, so pained that Steve shifted awkwardly under the weight of it.

It was one thing for Eddie to crush on Robin, and another entirely for him to go around talking about how he didn't measure up to her, or how she should be with Steve instead. That kind of thing never went well. There was a year in middle school where Tommy and Steve had awkwardly tried to figure out just which of them was expected to ask Carol out, and even that childish love triangle had nearly torn apart their friendship four years early. He needed to nip this is in the bud now if he wanted to have any hope of keeping this friendship.

"Robbie and I aren't like that. I mean, I love her, but she's a friend," Steve stressed. "We're both single. Completely unattached."

Eddie's eyes found Steve's, solemn and wide. "Well, maybe you should change that."

Yeah, that absolutely wasn't going to happen.

The amount that Steve wanted to be with Robin hovered somewhere around 20%-- and that amount was only because of the strange, possessive parts of Steve's brain that thought if Robin was in love with him, he wouldn't have to share her. Nothing about that was really what Steve would call romantic. No one would ever believe that, though, because he was Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington never wanted to be just friends with a girl, ignoring Carol and Nicole and Tina and all his other female friends. He couldn't even pick up a dropped pencil for a girl without rumors flying around the school by 7th period.

What it came down to, really, was that Steve had spent much more time thinking about kissing Eddie than Robin, and there was no way for him to admit that out loud. At least, not to Eddie. There wasn't much else Steve could do to broadcast 'not a threat' because, unfortunately, most of the guys of Hawkins had never given him another choice.

Then again, did Steve really want to give Eddie the all-clear? If Eddie thought Steve and Robin were dating, wouldn't that be the perfect way to make sure Eddie and Robin never did? Maybe it was completely terrible of him to consider, but he'd killed a man today, and a little social manipulation seemed practically saint-like in comparison. If Steve just made sure that he stayed squarely between them, then they could all three stay together, single and vaguely miserable.

Ugh, why was he even thinking about this? There were zombies in Hawkins, and his family was missing, and he had to get Erica back to her parents, and-- The list was piling higher and higher, and Steve really didn't have time to weigh the moral cost of keeping Eddie's eyes solely on him.

"Eddie, if--"

"Hey, Steve? The shower's open." Robin peeked through the open door, her eyes so wide that Steve could count all the colors in her irises. He wondered if she'd heard Eddie trying to cajole him, and didn't know if he felt worse for Eddie or himself. Eddie, because he'd just tried to push the girl he liked into a relationship with a different guy in front of the girl herself. Or him, because now he had to pull himself out of this stupid little world he'd created where he and Eddie were the only people who mattered.

Maybe dying had fucked something up in his head, because he was pretty sure that it wasn't working the way it was supposed to. There should be other things on his mind right now, right? Jesus Christ, maybe he would have to look into one of those conversion camps for himself, after this was all over. Steve wasn't stupid enough to believe any of that shit worked on actual gay people, but maybe it would on him? He just had a bad habit. Therapy worked on bad habits all the time.

Wait. Had his mom lied about going to therapy to stop smoking? That was kinda fucked--

"Ah," Eddie said, when Steve stayed suspiciously quiet. "Your lady-love calls, Harrington."

Steve flinched out of his train of thought, shooting Eddie a frown and a nasty look. "Seriously, Eddie. It's not like that."

"Whatever you say, Steve," Eddie said, eyes fixed on a muted square of sunlight cast across the floor.

A part of Steve wanted to stay, wanted to make Eddie understand, but that was exactly the kind of thing Steve was supposed to stop doing. He struggled with himself for a moment, jaw working in frustration, before he gave up with a huff and pushed himself off the floor. Stupid, stubborn boys. God knew why Steve's brain always fixated on them when there were clever, pretty girls like Nancy or Robin around. Hell, there was probably a clever, pretty boy who didn't make Steve want to pull his hair out somewhere, right?

"Don't get your bandages wet," Eddie called after him, as Steve stalked out of Hopper's room.

Robin trailed behind him, oblivious to-- or perhaps just too polite to mention --the scene she'd just witnessed.

"Can I--" She paused, hands flapping nervously. "I don't really want to be alone right now."

Steve shrugged, gesturing to his shoulder. "Yeah, sure. I can't take a shower, anyway. I'm just going to try to get the blood off."

It was a blessing he'd worn boxers that morning, Steve thought, as he dropped his pants. He probably should have felt worse about standing around in his underwear in front of a girl, bathroom door open, but-- It was hard to think of Robin that way. It was hard to think about anything that way right now, honestly. Steve might angst about Eddie and relationship woes, but if the guy came in and offered a blow job right now, Steve would still turn him down-- His brain was all for the teenage bullshit, apparently, but his body was still in survival mode.

And what Steve needed right now was to wash his fucking hair before the feeling of dried blood on his forehead forced him to kill himself.

As much as Steve missed his high-pressure shower at home, he wasn't above sticking his head under a shower faucet. It wasn't even the first time he'd done so with company; The guys on the swim team used to tease him about washing the chlorine out of his hair in the bathrooms after meets, but Steve wasn't the one walking around with sickly green highlights. It didn't bother him that Robin perched on the toilet lid as he rinsed his hair-- He couldn't even see her through the curtain of his own hair. It would be fine. Not awkward at all, really.

So, of course, that was when Robin started talking.

"I have something to tell you," she said. "I think."

"Can it-- Can it wait?" Steve asked weakly, trying not to swallow any of the bloody water pouring down his face. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have a lot going on right now."

"No. No, it can't. I'm sorry, too, but I was thinking about this the whole time I was alone in that cell. I thought I was going to die, I thought we were both going to die, and I would have died never saying it out loud, and I hated it. I hated not saying it," Robin said, her voice sounding choked. "And I've thought about it, and after everything we've been through it makes sense to tell you. I think I'm ready. And I want to say it now, before something else happens."

Steve paused, a familiar sense of dread pooling in his stomach. There was no reason for him to think that this was one of those conversations. Those dreaded awkward chats where girls Steve had adored wanted something more from him, the moments when he had to decide to play along or break her heart, but either way he was losing a friend. Robin had never once seemed interested in him. In any way, really, but especially not romantically. He was being too touchy. Eddie had gotten into his head, made him all... weird about Robin. They would talk about whatever it was Robin needed to talk about, and then Steve could move on.

Except.

What did Robin want to talk about? What could possibly have kept her awake in that cell, thinking about Steve? Something important and secret enough that she had to corner Steve in the bathroom about it? Steve honestly couldn't think of a single thing that they had to talk about that Eddie or Dustin wouldn't also be apart of. Unless-- Was it Barb? Did she want to talk about Barb? Steve didn't think he could handle that right now anymore than he could handle Robin having feelings for him.

"Well, don't," Steve said. He kept his eyes down, focused on his hair, because that was easier than engaging with the conversation and the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

There was a stunned silence, and then: "What?"

"Don't tell me!" It burst out of him angrier than he meant it, and Steve stood. Dark pink water cascaded down his neck and shoulders, making rivulets of clean skin through the dirt and blood on Steve's chest. "I don't want to know."

"What the fuck?" Robin asked, her face turning pink. Steve hated it. Robin didn't blush around him. That was-- This was--

"It's going to ruin everything," Steve said, unaware he was even saying it out loud. The moment he heard his own voice, though, Steve only became emboldened to continue. He was right; Why shouldn't he say so? "Why do you have to say it? Can't we just ignore it until it goes away?"

"Wow. After everything you said, I really thought--" Robin looked away, scoffing, but Steve's eyesight had improved too much to ignore the tears welling in her eyes. "But, no, I guess it makes sense that Steve Harrington thinks I'm worse than rampaging monsters and evil scientists and zombies and--"

"Robin, that's not what I--" Frustration overwhelmed Steve's ability to speak. He hated this. It happened every time he tried to let a girl down easy, every time he tried to keep a boundary between friendship and his hectic dating life. Steve didn't know why they always took it the wrong way-- Like there was something inherently wrong with them if Steve didn't like them. As if Steve was supposed to be attracted to every pretty girl that looked his way. As if it was owed to them, as if they could earn it by being pretty enough, popular enough, as if it was an accomplishment that they could show off. And, always, it came down to Steve being the person who took what they were owed. It was Steve denying them a happy ending. "Look, I'm super flattered, okay? You're great. I love you, I really do, but I'm not really ready for a relationship right now, and I-- I don't want to hurt you, but there's kinda someone else, anyway, and--"

Robin looked at him sharply, and he wavered to a stop, voice shaking. Steve braced himself for the usual interrogation, the inevitable part where they tried to figure out what other girl had captured Steve's attention, which of the competition was more worthy-- Briefly, Steve considered telling Robin the truth, just to see what she would do when he said Eddie's name. The suspicious didn't settle into Robin's features like he'd expected it to, however. Instead, it was replaced by a brief moment of surprise, and then melted into something Steve couldn't quite place.

It looked almost pained for a moment, tortured, and Steve was alarmed until Robin started laughing. Big belly laughs, clutching her stomach, the other hand on the wall to steady herself. "Steve," she tried to say. "Steve, I--" And she was overtaken by laughter again.

Steve, still dripping, stared at her for a moment. He had missed something. Somewhere in that conversation had been a cue he missed, a hint he was supposed to pick up on. Steve had tried so hard to learn all the secret rules, always on the lookout for what wasn't being said, but things still slipped through the cracks from time to time. Being laughed at wasn't the worst reaction to a verbal screw-up, he knew that from experience, but it still didn't feel good. He flushed with embarassment, hands curling into fists at his side.

"No, it's--" Robin sighed, looking at fondly for a moment before shaking her head and taking a deep breath. "God. Listen, Steve. I'm a lesbian."

"I..." Steve froze. The word was half-familiar, like he'd heard it once or twice before it was replaced by a dozen crueler, hurtful words. He wasn't even sure he'd gotten the definition right, honestly. It wasn't like he'd gone around speaking to a bunch of gay people. Except, apparently, he had. Something unclenched a little in Steve's stomach, but he still needed to confirm. "Girls?"

Robin giggled, nodding, but there was a stiffness around her eyes that Steve couldn't help but notice. She was afraid. Not of the world outside, which had tried to kill them multiple times already, but of Steve. Which Steve supposed he would be, too, if he was in her shoes, but on his side of it, it seemed a little ridiculous. Anger or disgust were the last things on Steve's mind; Mostly, he was relieved. Relieved and burning with jealousy.

It was cruel response, maybe, or at the very least selfish. Robin had obviously been struggling with this, and if Steve wasn't mistaken, he was the first person Robin had ever told. Still. He had wondered, earlier, if Robin had been like him. Just a little too possessive of her friends, losing herself in a spiral of unwanted thoughts that had no real source until it kept her up at night. Learning that she just liked girls, just liked them in a completely normal and obvious way, the way that Steve was supposed to, was something of a let down.

Steve, not for the first time, wished he could like men that way. It seemed so much simpler.

"Oh, thank god," he said, instead. The jealousy didn't stop the relief that he wouldn't be losing Robin, that she didn't want anything from him other than he'd already given. Robin was still laughing at him, though, and he was starting to question his own taste in friends. "Stop laughing. It's not that funny."

"I thought you were being a homophobic dickhead for a second there, Harrington," Robin said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "I'll laugh all I want."

Steve winced. Yeah, he had really gone all in on the yelling at her thing, hadn't he? "Ugh, I'm sorry. It's just..." He rolled his eyes, remembering what was left of his high school friendships in Hawkins. "You have no idea what it's like, constantly having your friendships ruined by stupid crushes."

"Really? You think the lesbian doesn't know what it's like to be expected to return romantic feelings they never could?" Robin scoffed. "Every single time I talk to a boy for more than fifteen minutes, half the school thinks we're going to end up getting married. Including him. Having male friends is literally impossible."

"Well, we can be each other's friend," Steve said. Echoing Robin's sentiment from the cell felt right; Steve liked when things fit together like that. Everything bundled up into a neat little package. Life should be like that more often, he thought, reaching for a hand towel on the rickety rack he'd helped Hopper build.

"I can't believe you're being so cool about this," Robin said. She looked him at him like he was doing something impressive, not giving himself a sponge bath in his psuedo-father's bathroom. She'd never looked at him like that when he was doing something actually cool, or had managed to do his hair in the last three days. She'd never looked at him like that ever, maybe. Steve found himself warmed by her admiration. It felt earned, but not like he'd had to fight for it-- Steve wasn't sure that he'd ever been liked this much for something easy before. "Like, I was pretty sure you wouldn't be a total asshole about it, but I had no idea it would be this easy."

For a moment, Steve wondered if this was when he was supposed to tell Robin that he'd already suspected... something. He didn't really know what to call it, since he didn't know how to explain his whole situation, either, but that wasn't what stopped him. Honestly, he didn't know how, not without explaining his own obsessions-- And while Steve trusted Robin, he didn't want to make this moment about puzzling out what was going on in his brain. On some level, he was still stuck on Robin thinking about it alone in the dark, Steve unmoving beside her.

She deserved to live it.

"Maybe last year I would have had a little freak out about it first," Steve admitted, because being almost killed by a demogorgon hadn't halted any of the nastiest parts of hate, yet, "but after everything we've been through in the last few days, there's literally nothing you could do that would make me want to stop being your friend."

"I never thought I'd have a friend like you," Robin said. She blushed, and Steve realized that Robin was, like, ridiculously beautiful. Maybe not pretty, not like girls who studied their own beauty like an art form, but almost handsome. Strong jaw, glinting eyes, freckles across her face. He wondered if Carol liked girls, because Robin would absolutely be her type. Was it too soon to start setting her up?

"Like, I-- After Barb, I thought that kind of friendship only happened once," Robin continued, "I definitely didn't expect it with the King of Jocks."

Steve grimaced, rubbing at dried blood dried on his stomach. "Oh, don't get started with that King shit. Eddie's bad enough."

"I know, but. Come on," Robin said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like you expected us to have anything in common, either."

They had a lot more in common than Robin suspected. Right? Steve knew he wasn't gay, probably. He just had bad habits. Would it be wrong to tell her that Steve was the same as her? Was that just another awful scheme that Steve had cooked up for attention. Fuck, he hated thinking about this. It always made him feel hunted, and that was the last thing he needed with the actual US government trying to track him down.

"Well, we can always make up some shit," Steve said, because he'd learned a long time ago that the real secret to friendship was that you could just... decide it was real. "Maybe we can join a cooking class together or something."

"Oh, yeah, we've got the time," Robin said, like she didn't believe it.

Steve frowned. "The rest of our lives, really."

She smirked up at him "Are you proposing to me right now, Steve?"

"You fucking wish."

Robin looked away, smile fading as the silence settled between them. "... So what do we do now?"

Steve rubbed at his face, fighting the exhaustion that had been clinging to him for hours now. He needed to focus. He needed to be in control.

"I should go back out there and start calling around for help," he said, trying to sound like he wasn't dreading it already. Steve had never been particularly great at asking for help, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice at this point. He'd tried to handle things by himself last year, and look how that had turned out. "Nancy and Joyce should definitely be caught up, and it's possible that they know where Hop and El are."

"Can I help?"

"You can hold my hand."

"Ew, boy cooties."

Steve looked down at his body, still sticky and smelly but less covered in filth. It was the best he was going to get until he could get some real medical care, probably. Making Eddie bandage his shoulder after a shower would have to wait until later. "First, though, I'm going to change."

Robin had already raided the best sweatshirt from El's stash; The rest were old, worn workout clothes from Steve's JV career. El had gotten a thrill out of another source of comfy things to sleep in, but they didn't have much use to an adult, broader Steve. He would have to steal something out of Hopper's closet-- Hopper was kinda grumpy when Steve let himself into his room, but he doubted the man would begrudge him clothing when was covered in blood.

Erica and Eddie were in the living room, talking softly, when Robin joined them. Steve peeked into El's room, and saw Dustin sitting on El's bed, looking up at her wall of drawings. Steve's first instinct was to tease him a little, distract him from his grief, but he stopped himself. He was the last person Dustin wanted to talk to right now-- This was his fault. If he had been here, last night, El wouldn't have left. If Dustin lost her-- If Hopper lost her-- Steve would never forgive himself.

Sequestering himself alone in Hopper's bedroom seemed like the best course of action. He changed into a pair of old sweatpants and a flannel, both of them too large but softer than anything Steve had felt in days. He let himself luxuriate in it for a moment, sighing. The moment of relaxation made the exhaustion in his body heavier, weighing his muscles down. It would be so easy for him to just lay down and go to sleep right now. He was in Hopper's house, wearing Hopper's clothes-- He was safe and warm, surrounded by the soft and familiar, and Steve just wanted to... sleep. Wanted to sleep forever and let the world pass him by. He couldn't fuck things up if he was asleep.

"Steve?"

He looked up. Dustin was standing in the doorway, looking at him with wide eyes, dark in his pale face. Whatever words Steve had wanted to say earlier fled his mind, unease forming a lump in his throat. He just stared, trying not to feel as equally scared of a 14 year old as he had been of a rampaging zombie.

"Dustin," he eventually said, voice scratchy, and then Dustin was throwing himself at Steve, arms already around his waist before Steve could speak another word. Steve immediately wrapped his arms around Dustin's shoulders, ignoring the way his body burned in protest. His body could shut the fuck up; He needed this. More importantly, Dustin needed this.

They clung to each other for a moment, Dustin breathing heavy into Steve's chest. He was trying not to cry, Steve realised, and he couldn't help but sink his hand into Dustin's hair, cradling the kid against his chest. He wished Dustin was smaller, easier to carry around and protect. He hated it when the kids cried, but Dustin was a sharper, keener kind of pain-- This wasn't just any kid, this was his kid. His brother.

"Hey, hey, no. It's okay, Dustin," Steve soothed. He smoothed Dustin's hair down, away from his forehead, but the kid just buried his face further into Steve's chest. "It's okay. Everyone's alright. You're safe. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!"

"Dustin, it's fine."

"I'm sorry," Dustin sobbed, his voice cracking the vowels into shards of sorrow. "I'm so sorry, Steve. I was angry, and scared, and I didn't know what was going on. When you came out and kept making jokes, it made me feel like I was going crazy or something."

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong," Steve said. He wasn't entirely sure that he should be encouraging Dustin to keep yelling at people, actually, but if anyone deserved to flip out on some adults, it was his kids. Steve definitely couldn't have handled any of this half as well as they did. "I completely get it, but you have to learn to trust me more, okay? You have to trust that I'm going to be okay, or it's going to keep happening."

"It's not about that. I know you'll win, but you always get hurt," Dustin said. His sobs were slowing, but he still sounded utterly miserable, like he'd already resigned himself to Steve throwing himself back into the fight. And he wasn't wrong. Nothing about today was enough reason for Steve to give up. "It's always you, and nobody else."

Steve frowned. "That's not true. Will and El--"

"Will and El are a special case," Dustin said, unlatching himself just enough to glare up at Steve. "They have, like, magical Upside Down powers. It doesn't count."

"Well, I'm a special case too, now," Steve said, squeezing Dustin's shoulders. "I can take the hits better than most people can. You don't have to worry about me like I'm a human."

"Well, I'm a Wesen, too," Dustin said, his face settling into a mask of determination. And it was a mask, because through the familiar guise of undue confidence, Dustin's eyes were terrified. "I'm not going to let you take all the punishment, anymore. From now on, if you die, I die. That's how it is."

Steve ruffled Dustin's hair, smiling sadly. "You know, a few months ago, when I was just your dipshit older brother, I might have agreed to that."

"You're still my dipshit older brother," Dustin said, tucking his face back into Steve's shoulder.

"I am. But you asked me to be a Grimm, Dustin," Steve said. He didn't want to blame Dustin for this, not for any of it. It wasn't Dustin's fault anymore than it was Robin's or Erica's. But he had to know the reality of what Steve was, now, or they would have this conversation a thousand times. If something ever happened to Steve, Dustin had to accept it. Steve had to make sure of that. "You asked me to step up and protect you and your people. So I did, and now part of the job is making sure I take the hits. You don't get to be on the front lines anymore, Dusty-buns. That's not something a Grimm lets happen."

Dustin whimpered. "I should have kept my mouth shut. I don't want a Grimm. I want you to be safe."

"It's not your fault."

"It is! You just said I'm the one who pulled you into this, and now you won't let anyone help you--"

"I do let people help me. I've got Robin, and now I've got Eddie, too. And I only have those people on my side because you pushed me to let them in, Dustin. I never would have talked to either of them about any of this if you hadn't insisted on it," Steve sighed. "You're the one who helped me figure out what I was, and you're the one who helped me get involved in a world I had no idea existed. That's how you keep me safe. That's how you help me. That's how you help El, too. I know she loves you as much as I do."

"I could do more."

Steve was never going to let that happen.

"Well, this is how you help without making me watch my little brother get hurt, okay?"

Haltingly, Dustin nodded, his curls dampening themselves against Steve's skin. "I'm still really scared," he whispered. "What if they come after you again? What if they already have El?"

"Then we'll solve it the way we solved everything else," Steve promised him. "Have you used the phone lines since we got here?"

"Yeah. No one's been picking up, not even Mrs. Byers. I called my mom, but I hung up once she heard I was okay."

Well, at least they knew the lines still worked. Mrs. Henderson on the hunt for her son was a wrinkle that Steve hadn't accounted for, but letting her freak out alone at home wouldn't have been any better. Honestly, Steve had kinda forgotten that the kids had parents that would be worried when they didn't come home that night. "Did she say anything before you hung up?"

"Not really. I think she calmed down once I told her I was with you, but we're absolutely going to be grounded for the rest of the summer."

Steve shrugged. "That seems fair."

"What?" Dustin yelled, throwing himself out of Steve's grip like he had been personally betrayed.

"What?" Steve couldn't believe the tender moment had fled so quickly, only for Dustin's usual self-righteousness to dominate the dynamic once again. "If you had just done what I told you to, you would have had Hopper's help finding me last night. You deserve to be grounded."

"God, do you have to ruin, like, every tender moment, asshole?" Dustin said, like Steve was the one who had done this. "I was opening up to you!"

"Apparently, the moment's over, Dusty-buns."

"Ugh, you're the worst brother--"

"Fuck!" Erica's voice was harsh, cutting through their squabble through the thick cabin walls.

Steve and Dustin nearly killed each other trying to get to her, but by the time they made it to the kitchen, Eddie and Robin were already flanking Erica, protecting her from an attacker that did not exist. The cause of Erica's frustration, apparently, was Hopper's off-white phone, the receiver of which was still clutched in her hands.

"What?" Dustin demanded. "What happened?"

Erica didn't even bother telling Dustin to fuck off, or whatever much crueler, little girl appropriate, insult Erica could have cooked up. Steve figured that she and Dustin must have gotten a lot closer while Steve and Robin were in that lab. Closer than Erica was with her own brother, apparently. "Lucas never came home last night, either," she said. Her voice didn't shake, because Erica Sinclair was the strongest little girl in the entire world, but she still hadn't put the phone down.

"Your mom must be losing it," Steve said. He would have put a hand on her shoulder if he wasn't afraid it would set her off-- Steve didn't know if they were in a yelling mood or a total panic attack situation. "Are they at home? We shouldn't--" He stopped for a moment, asking, "God, would it even be safe to take her home right now?"

"No way, we should call the Sinclairs back and tell them--"

"Maybe we should go to the station--"

Both Eddie and Robin tried to answer, but Erica's voice was louder than both of them put together. "I'm not going anywhere unless it's to find my brother!"

There was the yelling, thought Steve, with more relief than he thought being bullied by a ten year old deserved. She had finally looked up from the phone, too, leveling Steve with a glare that would have easily killed him a few hours ago. Which was rich, really, because Steve hadn't even said anything yet.

Eddie tried to answer for him. Maybe he had been bonding with Erica too, or something, because he spoke with confidence. "Erica, I don't think that's--"

"I'm not a toddler, dog breath, so don't treat me like one," Erica said, her lips curling with disgust. Steve winced; Eddie obviously hadn't made as good an impression as Dustin. "If my brother is caught up in all this nonsense, I'm not going to just sit around and wait for him. He's never been able to get himself out of trouble without me, and I doubt he's going to start now."

There was absolutely no way that Steve was getting Erica anymore involved than she already was. It was bad enough that the government knew Erica was with Eddie and Dustin right now, they couldn't risk her getting caught with Steve or Robin. They needed to keep her out of sight, or with an adult. Someone they couldn't just make go away when they realized how much Erica knew now. She had gone from an innocent little kid to someone who knew every secret Hawkins had to offer-- And that had put a giant target on her back. Eddie was right, obviously. There was no way Erica could do anything but put herself in danger.

That didn't mean they had to tell her that, though. If Steve had learned anything in the past few years, it was that kids-- especially his kids --were fucking stubborn. They would fight you every inch of the way, no matter how much logic and reason you used against them. So you had to pick your battles, and, sometimes, you had to lie.

Usually, Steve hated lying to the kids. It made him feel like some dipshit parent, too dopey to handle his own kids. Some asshole who thought kids were too stupid to understand what was going on. When possible, he liked to treat the kids the same way he would have a high schooler-- Like an equal.

But they weren't equals anymore. Steve was a Grimm, and they were people he was trying to protect.

Steve couldn't let anything get in the way of that, not even themselves.

"Look, maybe we're just overreacting," he said with a confidence he didn't feel. Sure, it made logical sense, but Steve could feel that the logical didn't apply here. All of the shit that had gotten him through his life, common sense and keeping his head down, didn't apply anymore. "He was with Mike and Will last night, right? Maybe we should call the Wheelers' again and see if he's there."

"We already called the Wheelers' three times," Dustin grumbled.

"So we'll call a fourth, goddamn it. Do you have any better ideas, boy genius?"

No one picked up on their fourth try, either. Or the fifth. They stood around the Hoppers' kitchen in a circle, staring down at the receiver in Erica's hand. The longer it rang, the more Steve was convinced that the ringing had begun to mock them, singing like a kid on a playground. Worst case scenarios crept into Steve's head, whispering that he was too late, that the entire party had been in the hands of the government before Steve had even cleared the property line of Lafayette Power.

"Try Max's dad next," he said, mouth dry. Neil wasn't a nice man, Steve had gathered, but he didn't seem the kind that would open the door for the cops, either.

But there was no one at the Hargrove house. Nor at the Byers', which Steve thought was particularly strange. Jonathan might be out on a date with Nancy, but where the fuck else would Joyce be right now? Looking for Lucas? Or-- Was she out looking for Will again? He couldn't think about it, couldn't imagine the pain of living that a second time. The alternative, though, that the agents had gotten their hands on Joyce-- unstoppable, desperately fragile, Joyce--

Steve forced himself to deal with the problems he could handle, and turned to Robin, whose rapidly paling face belied an unease that she didn't voice. She hadn't spoken in half an hour, actually, which was so unlike her that Steve was beginning to wonder if she had been hiding some kind of injury.

"Do you want to call your parents?" Steve asked, voice low. Dustin and Erica were trying the Hargroves' again. "Your dad must be losing it."

Robin shook her head, pulling her crossed arms tighter against her chest. She didn't meet Steve's eyes. "That's the exact reason I can't call them. If my dad ever gets wind of what happened to us last night, I don't know what he'll do." She snorted, but nothing about her looked amused. "Leave the country, probably."

"At least let them know you're alive--"

"No, Steve."

He didn't press the issue. Robin didn't look like she felt like talking, and Steve could understand the need to keep your parents far away from the Upside Down and everything it represented. He hadn't called his parents when Barb died, and he didn't call them when he thought he might be dying, and he wasn't calling them now. It would only be hypocritical to insist that Robin's parents could make things better for her.

"We're getting nowhere," Eddie said. He had perched himself on the narrow counter-top, watching the chaos below him in stony silence. Steve thought that maybe he was finally starting to freak out in that deep, soul-shaking way that too often looked like calm acceptance.

"We can't just stop," Dustin said. He fixed the glare usually reserved for Steve onto Eddie, who took it a lot better than Steve usually did. "There has to be someone."

"Sure, we can keep calling," Eddie said, nodding. "But I think Steve should take a nap or something."

"Oh, fuck off, Munson." He wasn't dealing with this all day. Steve was not about to play the 'oh, poor pitiful Harrington has a boo-boo' game right now. Sure, he was hurt-- But none of them had slept recently, or eaten anything substansial. It wasn't about taking care of themselves, it was about finding out what the fuck was going on. Steve getting hurt didn't mean he got to throw in the towel-- It meant he had to dig his heels in, try a little harder.

Robin, the traitor, nodded. "It's not a bad idea, Steve."

"What?" Steve said. He couldn't believe this. How was he the only person taking this shit seriously again? Had everyone forgot the last fourty-eight hours? Steve couldn't just sleep through that. He hadn't even been able to sleep through it then. The last three days, Steve had been running on nothing but grief and spite, and they wanted him to take a nap? "No! I need to be awake if something happens!"

"Okay, you can't insist you're the only guy on the frontline and also refuse to sleep or eat. Pick one, asshole," Dustin said, poking Steve in the chest, "because they're not going to work together."Eddie's mouth was a tight, pinched line when Steve's disbelieving gaze finally swung back to the Blutbad. "Seriously, Steve. You just went through hell. I think we can manage a few phone calls on our own."

"I--" Steve huffed, his hands finding. He looked at his friends the way dads usually looked at car crashes, sitting back and looking at the disaster when it was too late to do any goddamn thing about it. "Robin should sleep, then. I've had more than her."

"I slept while you were being tortured, idiot," Robin muttered. Steve blinked at her. He hadn't known that. He hadn't even been aware that he had been in there that long, actually-- He'd assumed that most of the time spent in the lab had been when he slept in the cell, head pillowed by concrete and misery. Had he really lain there dying, over and over again, for more than a couple hours?

"I don't..." Steve's hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails biting into the meat of his hips. Nothing about that realization made him want to sleep. Sleep meant alone. Sleep meant vulnerable and in the dark, unseeing and unfeeling. Sleep was just death in smaller doses, and Steve couldn't-- He couldn't-- "I don't want to be in there alone," he gasped out, unaware he was telling the truth until it had been ripped from his lungs.

"Well," Erica said, "I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep if no one else is." She gave Steve a Look, and though he could feel the capital letters, Steve didn't know if it was supposed to be a hint or a scolding. As Erica marched herself to the bedroom-- Hopper's room, specifically, which meant she was intending to share, and wasn't that a fucking trip-- Steve looked toward the other adults in the room, aghast.

"You're not sending me to nap time with the elementary schooler." It wasn't a question, but Eddie and Robin weren't taking suggestions at the moment.

"Stop acting like one and maybe we'll let you join the big kids' table," Eddie said, and then turned his back on Steve, ending the conversation. Even though it meant that Eddie was facing the wall, standing still, until, presumably, Steve left to take a nap.

He was fucking ridiculous, really.

Steve muttered a quick, "Traitor," in Robin's direction and then relunctantly slumped off to Hopper's room.

Erica was already in bed, tucked under the covers, glaring at the open doorway with bleary eyes. Steve stopped, hesitating. This was weird, right?

"Maybe I should go to El's room," Steve said, swaying in the doorway.

"If you wanna wake yourself up with nightmares in five minutes, be my guest," Erica said, blinking slowly. "Otherwise, get in the bed and shut up."

Fair enough.

Steve gingerly laid on the bed, over the covers. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was supposed to sleep. His entire body ached now that he had laid down, and his mind was still whirring with the possibility of everyone he had ever loved being dead.I The surrealness of the situation-- sharing Hopper's bed for a nap with Erica Sinclair -- wasn't helping. Steve felt vaguely like he might find himself in an entirely different dimension if he blinked too long. No, fuck going to sleep. Absolutely fuck it.

"This is so fucking weird," he mumbled. It might have helped if he had ever slept in a bed other than his own, but he had never been great at it-- He didn't sleep over at Nancy's, or even Tommy's or his other friends. He didn't go visit his grandparents overnight, and he definitely didn't go on trips with his parents. He stayed at home, and slept in his bed, and that was it. Maybe he should just get up and go sleep on the couch. It would be loud, with all the phone calls and damage control, but he had taken naps there before. Maybe he could--

"I almost got kidnapped by federal agents, yesterday," Erica eventually said. "I think you can handle sleeping in your dad's bed."

Oh, Steve thought. Huh.

The thought wasn't enough to help Steve sleep-- El and Hopper were still out there, needing him, after all -- but it relaxed him enough that he faded into a foggy half-doze. He stared into the bleak haze of the room and floated along his own breath, exhausted muscles taking what little rest they could manage. Hopefully it would be enough to get Eddie and Robin off his back.

Steve didn't know how long he'd been lying there when static filled the room. It was muffled, so quiet that at first that Steve's tired mind tried to tune it out, but his sensitive ears could hear something in the background-- Small vocalizations, chopped up syllables and vocalizations between the fuzz, like aural alphabet soup.

Muscles protesting, Steve forced himself to sit up.

Erica was fast asleep beside him, unmoving as the static grew even louder. The piecemeal words grew longer, still nonsensical but clear enough that Steve could finally pinpoint where the noise was coming from-- Erica's backpack had been stashed beside Hopper's dresser, and out of the open pouch stuck the antenna of Lucas's walkie.

Someone was on the Party's line, Steve thought blearily. Who was calling this late? Why didn't they just use the phone, it wasn't like Dustin and Eddie hadn't been on it all fucking night, trying to hunt down-- Reality flooded back into Steve's mind in one cataclysmic wave, and Steve scrambled out of bed and across the floor, falling to his hands and knees in his haste.

There was a break in the static, Steve sending the walkie skidding across the floor with his shaking hands; He'd barely had time to pick it up before a voice, distorted and reedy, came through. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Hello? This is Steve! Do you--" Steve wished he remembered literally anything about the walkie ettiquette Dustin had tried to drill into his head. It seemed for once that the damn things were actually coming in handy. "Do you copy?"

"Steve? It's Will!" There was a brief pause, and then the voice came back, a little louder and obviously upset. "Oh my god, oh my god, thank you for picking up. Where is everyone?"

Steve didn't know how to answer that without making everything else worse. Oddly enough, with a real, solvable problem in front of him, Steve felt his anxiety settle. Suddenly, the world didn't seem so vast and unconquerable-- Will was alive, and Steve could save him. Everything else was background noise.

"Will, calm down and breathe for me," Steve said, not half as soothing as he'd meant to. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the mall?" Will said, but he sounded confused about it, like he wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up there in the first place. "The-- the mind flayer is back, Steve."

Adrenaline surged through Steve's body at that little revelation, waking up every muscle that had lingered within a doze. It was exactly what Steve had feared, when he saw the zombies at the lab, and the confirmation that the Mind Flayer's grip on their reality had grown so much was possibly the worst news Steve had ever heard.

The fact that it was Will confirming it, only made Steve's suspicions grow.

Still, Will was still coherent enough to call for help, and none of the zombies at the lab had even been able to talk. They hadn't even seemed alive, really-- Their chests were still, and their blood hadn't pumped as much as spilled. The harsh breath between every one of Will's frightened words was enough to let Steve cling to a little hope.

"Is he with you right now? Is he--" Steve struggled to remember exactly how Will had described last year to him, wishing not for the first time that he hadn't been on babysitting duty while all of the Flayer bullshit had been going down. "Is he speaking to you again?"

"No! No, that's not--" Will sounded just as terrified at the prospect as Steve felt, but he also sounded relieved. "I can feel him, but I'm still me."

Steve took a deep breath, forcing his stomach to unclench. "Okay, tell me exactly what happened. Is anyone else with you?"

"Y-yeah," Will said. "I was at Mike's with Lucas. Then the girls came over, and Max said Billy was acting really weird, and--"

"Billy?" Steve couldn't help his immediate reaction. Rage filled his brain, and he couldn't even blame it on the Grimm side anymore-- He just fucking hated Hargrove. In the last six months, Billy had kept his side of the deal and had mostly stayed away from Steve and the rest of the kids, but that didn't mean the guy wasn't still a piece of shit. "Fucking Billy is involved in all this?"

"I don't think it's him, anymore, Steve," Will said, quiet in the face of Steve's anger. It was enough to draw Steve short. "He's been... Well, he's been Flayed."

Of course the kids would use their own cute little word to describe it-- Though Steve guessed he and Robin weren't much better, calling them Zombies. Still, comparing it to what Will went through last fall seemed to almost do what had happened to Billy an injustice. If Steve wasn't completely misreading things, then Billy was already dead, and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. Rage died in the face of sympathy-- He didn't feel sad, exactly. Billy had meant less than nothing to Steve, cropping up as an annoyance on his good days and a nightmare on his worst. Still, it didn't seem fair that a random teenage asshole had died before he had a chance to do better.

It didn't seem fair that Max had lost her brother to the Upside Down like Jonathan and Nancy almost had.

Another dead kid, Steve thought wearily.

"Did you guys try the heat thing? That worked on you last year, right?" Steve asked. If it was possible to save Max the grief, they should at least try before tearing the guy's head off.

"We tried that, kinda. But then he got away, so we followed him to the mall." Will took a shuddering breath, and Steve could practically feel the oncoming panic attack like it was his own. "And now the mall-- The mall--"

"Keep breathing, Will, you're doing so well. Is anyone else with you? Is it just you and the rest of the Party."

"Y-yes. Well, Dustin isn't here--"

Steve winced. "You don't have to worry about Dustin, bud. Does Hopper know about this? Or your mom?"

"They were busy," Will said.

"Oh, great, they were busy." Steve grumbled under his breath. If it had been any other kid, Steve might have taken the opportunity to tell them what a fucking idiot they had been, but not Will. Besides, Will sounded like he knew they had been digging their own hole, and he was just asking for help to get out. Besides, the sarcastic older brother schtick was only useful when it came to problems like detention or your first car wreck-- Definitely not something as serious as getting stuck in the middle of the apocalypse for the third time.

"Steve, there's no one else," Will sobbed. "No one else is picking up."

"I'm coming to get you, okay, Will? But you gotta let me know, bud, what's going on?" Steve couldn't just run into the mall like a madman. That had nearly gotten all of them killed at the Sinclair's, and there would be even more witnesses at Starcourt. As much as he wanted to make a break for the car without another word, he needed information. He needed a plan.

"I don't know. We got to the mall and there were so many of them." Will sounded confused, like a man having to decode his own memories. "There's so many of them, and then they started coming after El--"

God, Steve had been afraid of that. He wasn't sure why the Mind Flayer had come after the scientists and their experiments, but it was obviously tied to Brenner's project through more than a tenuous link through the Upside Down. It was a tangled mess of conspiracy and lies, and El was right smack-dab in the middle of it. It was becoming a full-time job just keeping her out of fights some other asshole had started.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, his heart in his throat.

"The last time I talked to her, yeah. We got separated in the lobby, but she locked herself in Scoops with Mike and Max." "Lucas and I are hiding in the tunnels behind the movie theatre. We were going to try to get to them, but--"

"No, don't move. You made the right call. Stay there and don't move until someone comes from you." Steve hadn't exactly been to school for this rescue shit, not like Hopper had, but there wasn't a single person in Hawkins who didn't know how to deal with a missing kid at this point. Well, except Will, apparently.

Which made sense because he had been, you know, the one who was missing.

"I called Nancy and Jonathan and they said they were on their way, but it's been half an hour," Will said. Which was great news, honestly, given that Steve hadn't even known how to get in touch with either of them when no one picked up at either house. Sure, it was worrying that they hadn't made it to Will yet, but at least they had been heard from in the last few hours. It was more than you could say for most of their family. "Steve. Please. I don't even know where Dustin is--"

"Hey, no, it's okay," Steve soothed. "Dustin's with me, okay? Dustin's fine. And you're gonna be fine, too. Just focus on that."

There was a pause. "I'm scared, Steve," Will said, voice small.

"I know. I know, man, but hey. Listen. Keep trying to get in touch with your mom, okay?" Steve struggled to keep the shake out of his own voice. The last thing Will needed was Steve's freakout on his shoulders, but everything about this was reminding Steve of every other night of terrible bullshit, a flashing neon sign telling him that things weren't over yet. "I'm gonna get some friends, and we're gonna come get you, okay? Until then, you and Lucas stay safe and stay together."

"Y-yeah, I can do that."

"Okay. Hey, Will? Can Lucas hear me right now?"

Lucas's voice came over the line, tired and weak, but determined. "I'm here, Steve."

Steve could almost see the determined frown that no doubt was on Lucas's face. He probably had a shaking hand on Will's shoulder, offering whatever small comfort he could, because Lucas had never been shy about lending his friends his strength. Steve's heart swelled, thinking about how much these kids had grown-- and how much he needed them to be okay. "I love you both, alright? Everything is going to be okay. We'll be there soon. That thing is not going to lay its hands on either one of you."

"Thanks, Steve," Lucas said, voice thick.

"Call me if you need us," Steve said, finally forcing himself to stand. His legs still shook under his own weight, but the time for rest was over. He didn't have a plan-- At least, not much of one --but they knew what they were heading into, at least. It would have to be enough. "Dustin might pick up instead of me, but I'm gonna be here, okay?"

"Okay. Just-- Hurry, please."

By the time Steve had made it to the kitchen, Grimm adrenaline was already pushing through his veins, burning with every step. It had never been this strong before, at least not a weapon in his face-- If he had to guess, his body was responding to its own shutdown like an outside threat, pumping him full of enough chemicals to keep himself going. He knew he was going to fucking hate himself tomorrow, if he even lived through the backlash, but he was grateful for the boost.

It meant that he didn't have time to stop, though. Steve had no idea how much longer his body could hold out-- Long enough to get to Will and Lucas, at least, but if they fucked around in the cabin for much longer, how was he supposed to get them back out again? With shaking limbs, Steve propelled himself through the small cabin as quickly as possible, falling against the kitchen wall when his muscles wavered.

Dustin looked up. The kid was exactly where Steve had left him, phone still clutched in his hand. Steve almost thought that he hadn't been in bed for longer than a few minutes, but he could see the setting sun through the window-- They were coming up on the second night of this bullshit already, and Steve had slept through most of the second day. It apparently wasn't long enough, though, because Dustin was glaring at Steve like he'd broken a promise.

"You're not supposed to be up yet."

"We have to go," Steve said, brushing past Dustin and into the living room. Robin and Eddie were splayed on the couch, looking half-asleep, but they both looked up at him with wide eyes once Dustin's belligerent protests were registered.

"Steve!" Eddie said, scrambling upwards. "Steve, where are you going?"

Looking down at them both, cozied up together, Steve finally paused. It would be selfish to demand them both go with him, wouldn't it? He should leave them here, where they could keep each other safe. Where they could keep Dustin safe. Maybe they would never have the future that Steve had imagined for them, but they deserved a better one than dying by his side.

"I have to get to the mall," Steve said, tongue dry. "You guys can stay behind if you want, look after Erica, but I need to go. Right now."

To Steve's surprise, both of them were on their feet before the last words could even leave Steve's mouth. Even Dustin, rushing up behind him, had stopped trying to argue. They were all just looking at him, determined, and-- Fuck, Steve knew it was a bad idea, but he didn't have the strength to make them stay behind. Being selfless took more energy than he had right now.

"So, what's happening?" Eddie asked. They had started to move, their ragtag pack one living entity, but it was only then that Steve realized the rest of them were following him blind. All the facts were starting to get jumbled in his head, a bad effect of the adrenaline-- As they stepped outside, Steve took in a deep breath of the humid summer air and tried to clear his mind.

"The zombies are at the mall," he said, frowning. "So are the rest of the kids. You do the math."

"So we're just leaving Erica here?" Dustin sounded completely unimpressed.

"Dustin, I don't have time for--" Steve stopped, whirling around to face him. He understood why Dustin didn't love the idea of leaving behind the kid they'd almost died to save. If he had any other choice, Steve wouldn't be crazy about leaving her, either. But the fact of the matter was, no matter what decisions Steve made, he needed Dustin to trust him. Arguing would only waste time. "Look, I get why you're being weird about this, but she's fucking ten, and I'm not taking any chances. Either get in the car and shut up, or stay behind with her."

No one protested after that. In fact, Eddie hadn't stopped when Steve had-- He was already in the yard, scrambling for his keys. Steve winced. Eddie was a fine driver, definitely better than Steve had expected considering the way Eddie used to peel out of the high school parking lot everyday. The problem was, Steve didn't need fine-- He needed reckless, fast, and good enough to keep them alive doing it. He didn't know what a Blutbad's instincts were, exactly, but he doubted they lent themselves to driving. Not like Steve's had.

"I'm driving," Steve called down, taking the steps in one, long stride.

Eddie looked up at him, glancing between Steve and his car in clear concern. "Not sure I like the idea of you driving in this state, Stevie," he said. Steve tried not to take it personally. He probably wouldn't let anyone who died drive that day, either. Too bad Steve wasn't giving him a choice.

"I'm a better driver than you, sorry, and I need control right now."

Eddie looked at a loss for a moment, turning to Dustin with a blank, hunted expression. Steve clenched his jaw and got ready to dig his heels in-- He knew Dustin and Robin wouldn't back him up, not on this one, but he wasn't in a position to give in to Eddie's protests. It wasn't fair, but it was what was going to happen.

To Steve's surprise, when Eddie turned back to him after a wordless glance at Dustin, he nodded.

"I'll let you drive under one condition," Eddie said, the words thready as if the concession physically hurt him. "You don't send us away again. If shit gets hairy, you let us back you up."

Fuck.

Steve wanted to punch Eddie for that one. Not because he didn't want to do it, but because he knew why Eddie was asking-- It wasn't because Eddie thought Steve needed to be looked after, or because he didn't think Steve could do it. Steve could handle that. No, Eddie was only doing this because he wanted a chance to be brave. He had taken everything that Steve had said on Hopper's bedroom floor and turned it against him, used it so that Steve would have no choice but to put Eddie in the line of fire.

As if Eddie needed Steve's help to be brave. As if Eddie had to die to prove himself to Steve. As if Steve wasn't already prepared to die so that Eddie could stay just as he was, innocent and protected. As if he wasn't everything Steve wanted to be, everything good and precious and beautiful--

Dustin looked at Steve, expectantly. Waiting for him to take the bait.

"What," Steve muttered, "did you two idiots co-ordinate?"

From Eddie's confused frown, Steve could tell that Eddie hadn't been in on it. Dustin was just taking advantage of the absolutely fucked mental status of their little group to make sure he didn't get left behind. It should have made Steve relieved, that they didn't plan this, but instead it just made him annoyed. Fuck smart little kids and fuck honorable drug dealers double.

"Fine, everyone gets an equal chance to die today," Steve snapped, rolling his eyes. "Just get in the fucking car already, Munson. Jesus."

They piled into the van, Robin and Dustin already clutching onto the sides with wide eyes and pale faces before Steve could even get the thing cranked. Even Eddie buckled his seatbelt for the first time in the entire time Steve had known him, shooting little looks out of the corner of his eye like he wasn't sure if they were even going to make it to the mall.

They didn't know the streets of Hawkins like Steve did, apparently. Steve ripped through town, faster than he'd ever been, but they were lucky to be coming from Hop's cabin. It wasn't a straight shot to the mall, but it was close. Tucked in the edges of the woods, all they had to do was make it through the streets of Loch Nora and past Steve's own house before they made it outside the city limits, where the mall was the only thing worthwhile for miles.

The only traffic was kids on bicycles, Steve weaving in-between them while Eddie, white-knuckled, swore up a storm. Fucking summer vacation, Steve thought as he willed the hunk of junk faster. Fucking holidays. Fucking kids. Fucking Upside Down fuckers, always starting shit when kids were in the way, always waiting until the moment when joy and innocence hung in the air-- Always waiting for Steve to come along and smash it to fucking pieces, evil and good and all.

He dodged another gaggle of kids, sending a pile of unlit fire crackers flying.

"I get we're low on time, Steve," Robin shouted from the back, "but I think the van is going to fall apart if you don't slow down!"

"Hey!" Eddie protested. "Sheila is sturdier than that!"

Robin wasn't wrong. The faster Steve went, the worse Eddie's van sounded. It rattled terribly, vibrating so hard that Steve's head ached. He wasn't sure the thing would be drivable after this, but that was okay-- Eddie could have the fucking Bimmer until Steve could find him some other hunk of junk to deify, for all Steve cared. He just needed the piece of shit to make it to the mall.

The tires screamed as Steve turned into the parking lot, bumper hugging the curve so tightly that sparks flew up the windshield. Steve struggled to straighten them back out again, the van fishtailing so intensely that Steve swore he could feel the axels strain underneath them. They traded paint with the car parked at the corner, but Steve yanked them back into speeding towards the employee entrance instead of careening off into dozens of parked cars.

He almost noticed the figure too late.

Steve swerved on instinct, panic decending as he scraped along the side of Todd's double-parked Mustang, barely missing the figure. He had no idea how he'd missed it; His new Grimm reflexes were supposed to be better than that, and it wasn't even moving. No, not it-- They.

Slamming on the brakes, Steve frowned into Eddie's rearview mirror. They still hadn't moved, not even when they'd almost been run over. They might have been human, whoever they were, but they definitely weren't a person. Not anymore.

Dustin scrambled over Robin's legs to peer out the slim back windows. He gasped, pressing his face against the glass to get a better look. "What is that thing?"

Eddie rolled down the window, wanting to get a better look himself, and Steve--

Well. Steve threw the van in reverse.

He didn't look. Didn't even bother flinching at the thunk of the figure hitting the back of the van, not even when Dustin scrambled away from the door with a squeak. The sickening squelch of the tires cut through all the complaints and yelling, and they all fell silent when Steve stopped again, square on top of where the zombie had once been.

There was a moment of quiet, and then something began to thump against the van's floor.

Eddie swallowed and looked at Steve with wide eyes. "Where did you say the kids were?"

"Will and Lucas are in the access hallways, and the girls and Mike are at Scoops," Steve said. He looked at Robin in the rearview. "Do you have the key?"

"Do I have the--" Robin repeated, then cut herself off with a desperate shake of the head. "No, I didn't bring my work keys to go monster hunting, Steve."

"Fuck, okay," Steve said. Fuck him for asking, he guessed. "Dustin, I told Will that we'd keep our channel open on Lucas's walkie, but can you call El's private channel on yours?"

"Yeah, I--"

Gunshots cut through the night air.

Between one shot and the next, they were off again, Steve dragging the van back off the zombie and down the lot backwards until he could swing them around and send them barreling off sideways through the parking lot. The roads were thinner in this direction, more accessways than true roads, but the crack of gunfire was clear enough that even a human could have figured out where it was coming from-- And it wasn't stopping. One shot after another was being unloaded, and from what Steve could tell, they were only stopping to reload.

Someone was unloading entire clips into a zombie, and was about to learn the hard way that it wouldn't work.

The gunshots led them further from the employee entrance, and Steve let himself have just a moment to regret. The noise was coming from the other side of the store, near the movie theatre entrance-- And while that would be a straight shot to Will and Lucas under normal circumstances, it was also the best bet for dozens of zombified assholes getting in their way. The smart thing to do would have been to cut straight through to Scoops and get to the boys from there, but there was a difference between smart and right. There had to be.

Because while everything human in Steve wanted to say fuck everyone else and go save his kids, a Grimm couldn't just save the people he loved. He couldn't, or he'd only be the kind of monster they told stories about. If Steve wanted to be a Grimm, he had to save everyone. He had to, at the very least, try.

It was with frustrated, petty glee that Steve side-swiped a zombie on the way, sending it flying off to land on a parked car in a spray of coagulated blood.

Next to him, Eddie moaned. "I knew I should have gotten the fucking insurance."

Dustin and Robin had crowded themselves around the front seats, almost fully standing up in the back and holding on for dear life. They were straining forward, eyes wide as they tried to get a bead on what was going on-- It was no use, though. Through the blur of cars around them and the press of zombies that grew ever thicker as they neared the mall, even Steve could barely see what was going on.

An SUV was parked in front of the mall, so far up the curb it was almost in the doorway. The closer they got, the more familiar it was-- The flash of gunfire put the puzzle together for Steve before his brain could even catch up. It was Karen Wheeler's SUV, and in front of it was her daughter, presumably, brandishing a pistol. Even the rapidly lessening distance didn't reveal the identity of the figure next to her, but Steve had to assume it was Jonathan.

He should probably be relieved. A month ago, maybe even last week, he would have been. Steve had never been the one in charge of figuring things out-- He mostly just hung around and provided backup to whoever got left on the bench. It was always a relief when someone smarter rolled up with all the answers. Now, though, Steve was vastly aware of all the context Nancy and Jonathan were missing, how fragile they were as humans-- And, while Nancy tried her best, there was no way Jonathan was going to be any use in a real fight against zombies. He may have been able to hand Steve's human ass to him, but--

"What the fuck is Wheeler doing here?" Robin whispered harshly, as if Nancy might hear her. Both the humans were in clearer view now, Jonathan watching them come with wide eyes. He didn't move, either two afraid or unwilling to leave Nancy behind-- Nancy, who didn't even spare the metallic roar of the van a first glance. She didn't move from her practiced pose, pistol emptying bullet after bullet into a steadily approaching zombie.

The zombie was coated in blood and full of holes, but Steve could still catch glimpses of white cloth and blonde hair underneath--

It connected all at once.

"Billy?" Dustin shrieked in Steve's ear the same time Eddie said, voice full of disgust, "How is Hargrove involved in this shit again?"

Steve should have put on the brakes twenty, no, thirty feet back if he wanted to stop in time. He didn't. He didn't even take his foot off the gas. Nothing in him wanted to stop, nothing in him wanted to show mercy. He was so sick of these fucking zombies. He was so sick of going through the worst days in his life and the having to look at Billy's Hargrove's skeevy little mustache.

"Um, Steve," Robin said, unreasonably calm for someone who had passed the point of no return. "Do you think... maybe the original people are still in there?"

It was a good point. Steve had decided more out of self-preservation than any logic that the zombies were incurable, never able to return to who they once were. There was a chance, however small, that every zombie he tore was an innocent person that died because Steve was too impatient to think of another way. Wasn't that exactly what he had been afraid of, all this time? Wasn't that exactly what he had regretted with Billy, just last year? Wasn't that the one thing he'd wanted to change about himself?

He'd already killed one person today. He didn't have to kill another.

But Steve thought about Eddie's father. And he thought about Billy's hands around Lucas's throat.

"Fuck it," Steve said, and then they hit the curb.

The next split second was a blur of speed and violence, entirely out of Steve's control. The car caught air when they hit the curb, just enough momentum to send it flying past Nancy and her mom's SUV and into Billy-- And further.

The box office was the only thing that stopped them from flying into the mall. They crashed into it full-speed, glass flying in all directions, and the front of the van crumpled like tissue paper against the firm stone column that served as its foundation. Billy wasn't so lucky. He missed the box office entirely, and the momentum from the van sent him flying through the doors, out of sight.

The shouting started before Steve could even catch his breath. Dustin and Robin's voice melded together, Eddie's a low, miserable mumble, but it was Nancy's voice that stood above them all. Confident in her own authority, Nancy Wheeler stood outside the shattered driver's window and pointed her pistol through it.

"Get out of the car! Everyone out, right now!"

Steve didn't so much as step out of the car as let himself fall. The fact he caught himself before he fell to the glass-littered concrete was more of an accident than anything. He heard Robin and Dustin tumble out of the back door, muttering to themselves and each other. Eddie seemed entirely unphased by Nancy or his own brush with death-- He rounded the van and collapsed against her side, next to Steve. He pressed his forehead to the ruined metal and made low, mournful noise.

"God, Sheila," Eddie whispered, low enough the humans couldn't hear it. "What the fuck has he done to you, babygirl?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Harrington?" Nancy asked. Steve pulled his eyes away from Eddie's dramatics to blink tired eyes in Nancy's direction. She still hadn't lowered her gun, Steve noted with no small amount of resignation. It didn't look like she was going to put it down anytime soon, either-- Steve knew that pinched look at the corner of her eyes, the worried face of a girl who wasn't being taken as seriously as she would like. "Who are you two?"

"I wish I could ask you the same question," Robin muttered.

"Nancy, this is--" Dustin began, and maybe it would have been better to let the kid smooth things over. That was how Nancy and Steve had operated, since everything last year-- Everything was about and for the kids, and if Steve got involved in anything, Upside Down related or not, it was because one of the kids brought him in. It was Nancy's world, and Steve was just a visitor.

He couldn't let this fall into the same patterns. Sure, it would be a lot easier, and Nancy would forgive the kids a lot faster than she forgave Steve-- But the Wesen world was Steve's, not Nancy's. She could help, if she wanted, and Steve would welcome it-- But he didn't have to ask permission here. He didn't have to fear her judgement. For once, Steve was the one in control.

"Remember the Wesen I was telling you about?" Steve asked, wincing.

Over Nancy's shoulder, Jonathan's eyes widened. His eyes bounced from Robin to Eddie and back again, before offering a small, unsure wave.

"Hey, Eddie," he said, voice tense. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"No kidding," Eddie said, but his eyes were locked on Nancy's gun.

Which, of course, still hadn't budged. All the fear and anger was gone from Nancy's face, but it had left determination in its place-- An emotion that was often Nancy's most dangerous. Steve had never been able to read Nancy very well, one of the many reasons they hadn't worked out, so he wasn't sure exactly why there was still a gun in his face-- She probably had a good reason, because Nancy always had a reason, but he had to admit he was starting to get a little annoyed.

It was the second time she'd pointed a gun at him. Steve was beginning to wish she'd just shoot and get this all over with, so they could move on to more important things-- Like saving their kids.

"Put the gun down, Nance," Steve said. He was afraid he sounded condescending and exhausted-- He almost always did, when he got this tired, but he was never sure how to stop it.

If Nancy took umbrage to his tone, though, she didn't remark on it. Instead she said, voice brittle, "I've seen a lot of people act really weird today, Steve, and I just watched you kill someone. The gun stays."

"You--" Steve swallowed a sound that might have been a growl, or might have been a sob. Neither would be helpful. "You unloaded how many clips into that guy and you think I killed him?"

"Steve," Robin said, voice low. She grabbed Steve's hand, squeezing gently, and Steve watched a frown flicker across Nancy's face.

He wanted to fucking scream.

"I've already gotten shot once today," Steve said, once he found the ability to speak through all the anger. "If you think another bullet will take me down, you're welcome to try."

Something that looked a lot like realization settled over Nancy. Her eyes roamed his face, his clothes, his bloodstained skin, and Steve tried not to take it personally that she was only now realising that Steve still looked like he had recently crawled through hell. It wasn't enough for her to lower the gun, but her eyes softened. For a moment, he was finally looking at that girl again, the girl who had held this same gun to his face two years ago, her eyes full of fear and anguish. The girl who threatened to kill him just to keep him alive.

"Steve, what happened?" she asked.

Dustin had, apparently, enough of letting Steve take control of things. He bullied himself in between Steve and Robin, breaking their hands apart. "Nancy, I know this looks suspicious, alright, but you have no idea the day we just fucking had," he said, and if Steve sounded condescending, then Dustin sounded imperious. "Erica almost got kidnapped by the government, and then--"

A growl, feral and distinctly familiar, cut through Dustin's words.

Eddie had his back turned to the rest of them, looking into the darkened doorway of the movie theater. He had woged-- Steve could tell without even seeing his face now, from the claws on the tips of his fingers and the animalistic slope of his shoulders. Every muscle in his body was rigid, primed for combat, and Steve could feel his own body adjust into a broader stance, like a sympathetic reaction towards combat.

There was a rustling noise from just inside the doorway, and then a zombie with a matted, blood-streaked blonde mullet shuffled it's way through the ajar door.

Billy Hargrove, dragging his broken body like an old doll, took a step into the light.

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