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feralsteddie · 6 days

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only i must wander, pt. 5

[on ao3] [pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3] [pt 4]

content warning: gun violence, government conspiracies, implied racialized violence against black children, child endangerment, and references to impact play

Sleep did not come for Steve that night, too outweighed by guilt and failure to find him. He rattled around his empty house, waiting for it to come, and instead found only the spiral of his own thoughts. It was stupid to dwell on it, he tried to tell himself, the way it had been stupid to dwell on Barb. There was nothing to be done to change it, no way to go back in time and stop it, so why was he agonizing over it like it was a problem he could actually solve? It was just causing himself unnecessary heartache. He knew that. It didn't make it any easier to stop.

It was worse doing it alone. Having Nancy around had been a little easier, although Steve didn't know if it was because seeing her tearing herself apart made his own mind a little clearer, or because he simply let her take over all the thinking. Neither was a very flattering reason, he was afraid. Now, he felt even more useless than he had then, when all Steve could do to comfort anyone was make stupid jokes at the dinner table. That, at least, had been well-meaning. What the fuck had he been doing the past few days?

Really, it had been his own fault for believing he could change things. Realizing he wasn't human had given Steve too much confidence-- He had never been a good person, Steve knew that, but there was almost some hope in him that maybe he could be a good Wesen. Which was ridiculous, of course. He should have left those kids alone. He should have never let Dustin and Robin convince him that he was needed. He should have known that he wasn't meant to be the hero.

Maybe that was why he had always bucked against the idea. What had he been thinking, letting himself pretend that it was because he didn't want to hurt someone? Everyone knew Steve Harrington didn't have any real morals; He would do anything for a smile or a warm touch. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, Steve had just already known he would fuck being a Grimm up like he had everything else.

It was hard to think about anything else.

By the time the sun came up the next morning, Steve had moved past panic and into the quiet acceptance of someone who had realized they had nowhere to run. He made himself a pot of coffee, ignoring how it made his empty stomach twist, and forced himself to stare into a sunrise that stung his tired eyes. Despite the exhaustion that clung to his limbs and heart, Steve didn't have problems finding energy to move. If anything, he felt like his body was pushing him to move faster, always finding a small reserve of energy to burn.

Not for the first time, his body was at odds with his mind-- Every inch of him wanted to go out there and fix things, while Steve himself knew it would all be useless. He just had to wait for everyone else to show up. Maybe they would have some better ideas. Eddie seemed particularly keen to save the world from Steve.

So the morning lingered, every hour seeming longer and longer until Steve was certain it might drive him insane. They had agreed to meet up just before lunch, in order not to keep Robin past curfew again should they need more time to regroup. Steve was beginning to regret being so responsible, letting everyone go home and be normal for a little while, and he honestly wasn't sure his soul could take another regret.

Even as Steve craved the comfort of his friends, though, he knew he didn't deserve it-- So he sat, quietly, and drank another cup of coffee, ignoring the phone next to him.

Eventually, when the sun had finally completely risen over the treeline and the sleepy suburb around Steve had cleared itself out, all the fathers at work and the mothers at the club and the children at their camps and practices and programs... Steve heard the sound of a car coming up the street. The fact that he heard it at all was something of a warning; Those who lived in Loch Nora did not, as a general rule, allow themselves to be so gauche-- or practical --as to have their engines introduce their vehicle before the logo could.

Steve leaned over the counter to peek through his blinds, sighing when he saw a familiar blue and white van in his driveway. He had never expected Eddie Munson, chronic truant, to be so punctual. It would figure that the one time no one wanted Eddie around was when he would actually show up for once, Steve thought, and then immediately scolded himself for being an ass.

This was Steve's fault; Not Eddie's.

Besides, if Steve could forget that he was barely keeping it together, at the moment, it might be nice to spend some time with Eddie alone. He could look his fill, at least, without having to worry about Robin or Dustin noticing. Maybe they could talk about something that wasn't death or kidnapping for once. Maybe he could even get Eddie to like him.

And all for what, a nasty little part of Steve whispered. Which was a good point, really. There was no sense in Steve getting his hopes up just to have Eddie hate him again when he'd realized what Steve had done. Although, maybe it would be nice to have something to remember besides snarky comments and hateful little looks, when Steve was alone again. Because Eddie would be so upset, if Steve told him. Kids like that were probably the only reason Eddie was even still in this town, he had made that extremely clear, so why would he even both pretending to get along with Steve after he'd lost them like that?

Watching Eddie hop out of the van, Steve sighed, and put the last cup of coffee down on the counter. Whatever happened, it would have to wait until everyone got here. Steve wasn't going to have this conversation twice.

By the time Eddie knocked, Steve was already in his foyer, hand on the doorknob. Eddie's hand was still raised as Steve opened the door, and he turned the gesture into an odd little wave, smiling crookedly.

"Hey, Harrington," he said, tongue pressing into the gaps of his teeth when he grinned, smug. "Nice digs."

Steve blinked. Eddie didn't sound mocking, exactly, but he could tell the compliment wasn't sincere. Maybe he was just trying to teach Steve how to give a real compliment, since he had failed so completely on Friday. Whatever Eddie was trying to imply, Steve's head hurt way too much to figure it out. If he wanted to say something, he could just say it. Until then, Steve was ignoring it.

"Yeah, uh... Thanks," Steve said, shaking his head. The fog didn't want to budge, but he forced himself to step back and motion Eddie in as he struggled with it. "Come on in. Coffee?"

"No, thanks." Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets as he shuffled past Steve, peering around the house like he was at a zoo. Which was odd, Steve thought, because Eddie had definitely been here before. Hadn't he? Steve couldn't imagine a Hawkins rager without a Munson peddling his wares, and Eddie was the only one Steve had ever known.

"Not a big coffee drinker?" Steve asked, politely continuing the conversation as he led Eddie into the living room. He couldn't go back for his coffee if Eddie wasn't going to have any; It would only draw attention to how desperately he needed it, and how his hands still shook around the porcelain.

"Nah. Wayne loves the stuff, though," Eddie said. "Says it's his only vice."

The Munson trailer's walls had been tinged yellow with nicotine, and there had been a mountain of Camels on Wayne's sidetable, so Steve wasn't sure how true that was.

"So all the cigarettes must be yours, then?" Steve shrugged. "Can't say they taste much better."

"Well, they definitely look cooler than coffee," Eddie said. He plopped onto Steve's mom's favorite love seat, all black and denim against the pale beige upholstery. Eddie grinned up at Steve, who hesitated for a moment, thinking how truly odd it was to see Eddie here, amongst the frippery and chintz of his day to day life. Sure, Eddie looked gorgeous in opulence, like some kind of king who thought his comfortable thrown was far beneath him, but that didn't make it less surreal.

"That's why I have both," Steve said, eventually, as he sat in the chair furthest from Eddie. He couldn't stand the idea of being touched right now, and he wasn't even sure if he meant from anyone or Eddie specifically. The entire world felt too big, too loud, and someone's skin against Steve's own might be the last straw.

"From what I've heard, Steve Harrington isn't someone who denies himself any vices." Steve would have thought it was a come on from anyone else. It certainly sounded like one, dripping with innuendo. But Eddie wasn't looking at Steve anymore-- His eyes darted from the open doorway into the kitchen, to the front door, to the stairs, over and over again.

Steve liked to think if Eddie Munson was making a move on him, he might actually be more interested in Steve than monitoring all points of escape. Call him a romantic.

Alright, so Eddie was scared of his house. That wasn't actually that big of a shock; Most people were a little uncomfortable or intimidated by the Harrington house. It wasn't even that big, really; Three bedrooms and two and a half baths wasn't exactly a mansion. It was the decor, usually, that threw people off, or the sheer ugliness of the outside. It was the kind of tacky you only got away with by being very, very rich, and Steve's mom ate that shit up with a spoon. Now it was Steve who was stuck with it, a flashing sign pointing to a world he'd been cut off from, and a bunch of friends who were constantly alienated by the very house he lived in.

So, yeah, Steve was used to it. Still, this felt different. He felt it had to be personal, on some level, because Steve had seen Eddie deal in plenty of big houses before and seem totally fine. Plus, it wasn't like Eddie had said anything besides some weird compliment about the yard-- Most people usually did, when they were freaking out about the weird gold statues in the bathrooms, or the over-large chandelier in the foyer that made Steve claustrophobic. No, Eddie hadn't seemed put off by the house itself. Just Steve.

Which wasn't a good sign, really, because Steve hadn't even told him about the new missing kids, yet. It was a little early for Eddie to already mark him off as a murderer.

"Is everything okay, Eddie?"

"What?" Eddie's gaze snapped back to Steve's, then skittered away again like a frightened cat.

"You keep looking at our china cupboard like it's going to bite you," Steve said, trying to make a joke of it. When Eddie didn't laugh or smile or even so much as a grimace, Steve dropped his own awkward smile. "I'm sorry, if I did anything to..."

"Oh, God, no," Eddie said. He shook his hand, but Steve could see him wiping his sweaty palms off on his pants legs. "Sorry, Steve. It's not you, it's... I just can't get used to the fact that I'm in the Harrington house. I keep expecting your parents to pop out of a door and grill me on why I'm in their lair."

"I used to feel like that, too, sometimes," Steve said with a shrug. "You get used to it." His parents haunted every inch of this place. There touch was everywhere, in everything, even in places like Steve's bedroom, where he was pretty sure neither of his parents had deigned to be since they'd moved in. They were inescapable.

"Oh." Eddie looked thrown, and he frowned up at the picture of Steve's parents that hung above the mantle. Steve had meant to take that down-- He did, most nights. Jesus, no wonder he couldn't sleep last night.

"I'm a little curious, though," Steve said, leaning forward. Now was his chance; A perfect opportunity for someone to finally spill what Steve was desperate to know. "About what you've heard about them. Wayne seemed to think they were pretty okay, but you..."

"I..." Eddie sighed. "Did your parents ever tell you about the Bogey Man when you were a kid?"

"No. Is that some kind of Wesen?" Steve asked, tilting his head.

"Ha, no. It's a fake monster, one the humans made up," Eddie explained. "I guess it makes sense your parents wouldn't need a fake one. But, uh, basically human parents use it to make their kids behave, I guess. You know, parent shit. A 'if you don't clean your room, the Bogey Man will get you!' deal."

"Weird," Steve said. It seemed bizarre to even think about, really. Steve had seen his classmates with their parents before, of course. Tommy and his father fought constantly, even though Mr. Hagan had been one of the most even-tempered men that Steve had ever known, and Carol's parents were a lesson in politics and manipulation.

He'd seen them both rail against their parents in ways both subtle and direct, but that had been so... them. Of course Tommy and Carol fought back, they fought back against Steve all the time, and teachers, and basically every other person on Planet Earth. But Steve couldn't imagine their parents threatening them with some made up monster to frighten them into behaving. He couldn't imagine his own parents even bothering-- Not when Steve was perfectly capable of being afraid of them already.

Steve had to wonder which was kinder-- Frightening your children with a lie, or being the monster yourself?

"Yeah. Yeah, well, when I was kid," Eddie continued, "your parents were the Bogey Man."

Steve laughed, hollowly. Yeah, he supposed he and Eddie had that in common. "So I guess you're not as big a fan of my parents as Wayne is, huh?"

"No, not really. Sorry," Eddie said, flatly.

"Don't apologize. I definitely wasn't expecting him to be so accepting," Steve said, because he had honestly expected every Wesen to hate him on sight for the rest of his life. "I know what Grimms do to Blutbads. You know, historically."

"No, it's not about that," Eddie said, as if thousands of years of blood feuds and murder didn't bother him at all. "I run into a Grimm on the street, or something, I don't think I'd have a problem with them. We live in modern times; Someone isn't just going to kill me in broad daylight for minding my business. I'm wieder, I've never killed so much as a squirrel-- It's... Sorry, man, I could explain it but I don't think it's going to make much sense."

"Try me," Steve said, because he needed to know. He needed to understand what the hell was going on in this town, on at least some level. Eddie's thoughts seemed like the one thing Steve could figure out without dragging the entire town into a disaster, at the very least.

Eddie huffed, like Steve was being purposefully contrary. "I mean, this deal they've got going on with us, all of us in Hawkins. Would you be okay living like that?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know much about the details, really."

"What, your parents' iron grip on the people around you not interesting enough for you, Your Majesty?" The venom had dripped back into Eddie's voice, and Steve wanted to bite back, but-- Well, it was his own fault that Eddie assume that he was in on things. He'd basically lied to them about his own relationship with his parents, just to look a little more competent. Eddie was allowed to be a bitch about Steve's ignorance.

"Nah, my parents just aren't big sharers," Steve said, because he really didn't want this to devolve into another stupid fight. Today was going to be hard enough. "They haven't really... been around, since my powers started acting up. Most of what I've learned has been from my grandpa's diaries. No mention of any deal in there."

Eddie hesitated for a moment, something curling his face into a grimace. Steve wasn't sure how to take the way Eddie was looking at him right now-- He'd never been good at figuring out why someone was mad at him, and Steve was feeling a little of that same cluelessness. Sure, it might have been because Eddie had just put together that Steve had lied to Wayne's face about his parents, but that seemed a little tame for a guy like Eddie.

And, really, if Eddie had a problem with Steve lying, it was the least of Steve's worries. He would tell Wayne himself the next time he saw him, if it was that big a deal to him, but Steve didn't think it was anybody's business. No one had begged the Harringtons to come home when Steve needed them. Now it was Steve picking up his parents' mess, and trying to cover the fact that this had been happening right under their noses for who knows how long. Steve was the one suffering here.

He tried really hard not to think about all the missing kids, and raised an eyebrow at Eddie, waiting for the judgement to fade.

"Well," Eddie said, eventually. His voice slipped into a role with just one syllable, a habit Steve had noticed more and more in Eddie. His posture even adjusted to fit, as if Eddie was pulling the same party trick as Steve, but with concepts more than real people. A teacher's voice came from his mouth, "It's simple really. Your basic, everyday example of laws being nothing but threats the ruling class put in place to keep themselves at the top."

Steve snorted at the exaggeration. "That's a little--"

"No, Harrington, you wanted to know, so I'm telling you," Eddie said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. There was a pissy little line between his eyebrows, and Steve could already picture the wrinkles Eddie would have there, one day. "There are all these stupid fucking laws, right, like who can marry who, and who's allowed to be a person. There are laws that are made to keep poor people poor, and laws to keep stupid people stupid, and then they made laws to keep those people from voting, because god forbid anyone change those laws."

Resisting the urge to sigh, Steve wondered what Eddie would do if Steve just came out and told him that he didn't have to dance around the subject of gay people with Steve. Mostly because Steve had very explicit fantasies of sucking him off in this very living room sporadically since freshman year. It didn't seem worth it, though, considering Eddie was looking for a fight. With Steve's luck, Eddie would probably decide to be homophobic on the spot. Besides, Steve didn't know if he could call himself gay outloud without puking.

"I don't know what that has to do with my parents," Steve said, instead, because they were getting pretty off track.

"Yeah, I'm being really unfair about the whole thing. I know that," Eddie said, throwing his hands up in the air like the dramatic asshole he is. "It's just, you know, it's a little funny. America is, like, so fucking focused on keeping the lower classes surpressed they just let people die in front of them everyday, and yet-- And yet they're still fairer than the fucking Harringtons."

"Eddie--" Steve cut himself off, no longer trying not to sigh. He got the point, he really did, but Eddie was preaching to the choir on this one. He had never been convinced that his parents were great people to be around, and if you had told him as a child that his father was in charge of actual human lives, he probably would have had nightmares for weeks. That didn't mean that he would just stand here and agree with Eddie calling them dictators, either. They were his parents. And if anyone got to be mad at them, it was Steve. Not some gorgeous dickhead who'd never even met them.

"Because you know, if someone breaks into my house and tries to kill me and I defend myself, the cops will eventually let me go," Eddie said, and he hadn't looked Steve in the eye since this whole thing started, but he seemed even further away now. Like he was mostly talking to himself, working through his thoughts, and Steve was merely an audience to his genius. It reminded Steve a lot of Eddie standing on lunch tables and yelling about how the basketball team was stealing kids' self-expression, and Steve wondered if it was too late to put a table cloth down on the coffee table.

Eddie continued, "Self defense, right? But Wesen don't get self defense. If I'm wieder, I'm just a dog. Or-- or-- fuck, I could get put away for years for selling drugs, but I'll be safe! Better tell Wayne goodbye, though, if the Harringtons find me with springroot in the backyard."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry," Steve said. He felt suddenly like he had to beg Eddie to forgive him for his parents, just so they could move on from this. A little unfair, sure, and Steve was sure that when he'd finally had some sleep and his pride had the opportunity to rebuild itself he would regret it, but Steve just wanted this to be over. He just wanted Eddie to look at him and see Steve, not the product of two people who hadn't bothered to even stick around to raise him. He just didn't know what to say. There was no blueprint to make Eddie like him, no person he could imitate good enough to capture Eddie's goodwill. "I had-- I was afraid that it would be that bad, but I guess after talking to Wayne, I got my hopes up. I didn't mean to make you-- I know it's hard--"

"Hold on, Harrington," Eddie said, a hesitant hand raised between them. He looked blindsided, shock on his face as he blinked through the furrowing of his brow. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, okay? I'm not, like, having a breakdown or anything. I was just... talking. You know me, I can't shut up when something pisses me off." And that was true, at least-- Steve had listened to enough of Eddie's lunchroom rants to know that Eddie couldn't really mean half the shit he said, and might very well change his mind on the other half by the next one.

This seemed a little more important than high school politics, though. Bigger than what Steve thought even real-life politics, with it's scrubbed-up movie stars and glittering galas, could effect anymore, like the kind of shit people who invented politics used to think about. The kind of shit no one really wanted to think about, much less talk about, anymore. The kind of shit that made people turn the channel to something stupid and thoughtless, pretending the uncomfortability of reality had never revealed itself.

"But they're my parents," Steve said, helplessly. He was a little lost in the swamp of the matter; He wished he had paid more attention in history class to have the words for the conversation, the way Nancy or Jonathan would.

"Yeah," Eddie said, in that increasingly familiar tone of voice that said Steve was being slow. "And my mom is still out there somewhere, hunting down Bauerschwein like Blutbader society can't survive with one more pig in the world. What's that got to do with me?" he continued, with all the confidence of a man who didn't lay awake at night sure that it did have something to do with him.

"That's different," Steve said, though he wasn't sure how it was-- Eddie would know better than him, obviously, but Steve wasn't sure how he had been able to assure himself of anything of that. Steve didn't think he'd ever be able to stop blaming himself, if it had been him. Which was probably Eddie's point. Still, there were a few key differences, the biggest of which-- "Have you even met her?"

"I mean, I have to believe I was present at my own birth," Eddie said with a shrug, "but other than that, nah. That's not the point, Harrington. What I'm saying is, you've got nothing to be sorry for. You aren't your parents."

And that was where Eddie was the most wrong, Steve thought. Because while he hadn't seen them for months, Steve had more than enough time with his parents to know just how like them he really was. Every time he looked in the mirror or watched his own hands move as he spoke, he saw Bradley and Sophia Harrington. His parents felt inextricably a part of him, like he could feel their very DNA inside him. It was a curse before he had even known what they were, and an even greater one afterward-- Because there had never been a single moment where Steve had been able to believe that they were ignorant of this dangerous world Steve had found himself in. If anything, it was easier to believe they had created it wholecloth, just as they had created him.

"You should be afraid of me," Steve said, like reminding someone to bring an umbrella along on a cloudy day.

"Afraid of you?" Eddie repeated. "Why?"

Steve shrugged, thinking about the split-second moment of fear on El and Robin's faces. How he couldn't meet his own gaze in the mirror. Of Eddie woging in the dark, eyes flashing. "Everyone else is."

"Steve, you got your ass kicked by a jumped up racist in the shittiest car in the world," Eddie said with a snort, as if he'd ever won a fight in his five years at Hawkins High. "I think I'll be okay."

"I-- I wasn't even really a Grimm then!" Steve protested. Lucky for Billy, honestly. While Steve wondered from time to time if his vision and hearing hadn't been just a bit too keen in the junkyard last fall, everything else had still been completely human. Steve hated to think what he might have done to a human, if it had happened all at once. If all that adrenaline and instinct had seen Billy-- and maybe even the kids, honestly --as a threat. If his strength, growing more unnatural every day, would have broken bone as easy as plaster.

Would Billy have still been alive when they stuffed him in his own trunk?

"Yes, but you were an asshole," Eddie said, wry tone jerking Steve out of his worst case scenario. "Balances itself out, you see."

The absurdity made Steve chuckle, the knot in his chest loosening a little bit. Eddie was right-- For all he was a monster now, he had been even worse when he was a human. A reminder of that was as freeing as it would have been upsetting mere months ago. From the pleased grin on Eddie's face, Steve assumed he knew that, too. It must have been written all over his face.

Steve hated to think what else Eddie could see in his eyes, and tilted his face away, hiding the smile on his lips.

A welcome distraction came in the form of the familiar growl of Claudia Henderson's car in the driveway. If Steve strained, he could hear Dustin's voice through the closed window, followed by his mother's-- And, Steve realised with a start, Robin's. At least, he hoped that was Robin-- He'd been working on his hearing, lately. Even his improved vision couldn't process things as quickly as his ears could. It was mere seconds, but it was more than enough to keep them alive.

Although, Steve thought as a familiar tingling began between his eyes, maybe he didn't have to work that hard. His head seemed determined to ache the moment a Wesen got in the vicinity anyway. Althought it usually faded within moments, there was nothing Steve processed faster than pain.

"Kids are here," Steve said, standing. Dustin's heavy boots were loud on the front porch, and he knew the little shit had stolen a key weeks ago.

"They are?"

Dustin answered for him, throwing the door open and yelling, "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve!"

"I am right fucking here, Dustin, holy shit," Steve said, flinching.

Robin muscled her way past Dustin and into the front hall, waving at Claudia over her shoulder. "Holy shit, Henderson," she hissed through a plastic smile, "don't wake up the whole neighborhood."

"You got a ride with Mrs. Henderson?" Steve asked. He didn't know if it was more surprising that Robin actually got in the car, or that Claudia had let a Fuchsbau in her backseat. The two most paranoid people he knew, in one car ride? Fuck, throw Hopper in there, too, and they'd be convinced the world was ending in a matter of minutes.

"We saw her walking and stopped to pick her up," Dustin said, throwing his backpack under a rickety sofa table. "It's a bad week for bike tires."

Rolling her eyes, Robin dropped into Steve's vacated seat, kicking his legs out of the way of her sprawl. "I wish I didn't live in the opposite direction of you, Eddie," she groused, "because that was the worst car ride of my life."

Steve wasn't sure that Eddie's clunky van would have been much smoother, considering what he'd heard coming up his own driveway, but he kept his mouth shut for once.

Dustin had much more specific protests. "Hey, my mom is great!" Another statement Steve was smart enough not to address.

"Your mom has eaten people!" Robin flung her arms up, feet and knees jittering with nervous energy. "How am I supposed to act normal about meeting her when literally the first information you ever told me about her was that she ate people for fun!"

Eddie's gaze slid sideways to Steve. "What's going on right now?" he asked.

"Oh, uh." Steve leaned against the back of Robin's seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dustin's mom took human heart in college, apparently."

"You seem remarkably chill about that," Eddie said. The creases in his face, too deep and practiced for a man his age, jerked into a shaky frown.

Steve shrugged, unsure of what Eddie had expected him to say. Eddie was the one who sold drugs out of the back of his van, supplying most of Steve's best parties, and Eddie had been the one to say that Steve was too good to be a real threat. It was something of a relief to have found where a boundary might lay, finally, but Steve wasn't sure why this, of all things, was enough to take the shine off.

"I've seen worse," Steve said, although that was stretching the truth a bit. He'd never actually seen the inside of the Hawkins Lab, just the tunnels underneath, but he'd heard enough from El and Hopper to have a pretty good idea. The shit they were doing in there was worse than any college girl could ever do, even if she was a bit munchy.

Sure, if you wanted to get in the philosophical weeds about everything, consuming human flesh might be a tad more wrong, morally speaking, than human experimentation. It seemed, at first, a much deeper sin. His Sunday school teacher would have said as much, probably. But then again, it always seemed that the sins that didn't make you money were the ones people most cared about. Everything else could be justified, but the idea of doing something out of sheer enjoyment was the real sin.

"You are such a hypocrite!" Dustin said, ignoring Steve and Eddie's sidebar.

"It's not a moral judgement," Robin soothed, ruining all effect by rolling her eyes dramatically the whole time. "I just don't know how--"

Steve watched Dustin puff up in righteous indignation. "No, come on, you've literally been talking about how creepy she is the whole time--"

"You accused my dad of murder!" Robin said.

"Why--" Eddie began, before Steve shook his head. He had learned that it was best just to let them tire each other out before he got involved. Until then, they could just sit back and watch the show.

"He made his whole business out of dead people; What was I supposed to--"

"He sells them! He sells dead humans. He's not the one getting high by snorting it, or whatever."

"Oh, yeah, right," Dustin drawled, with a level of sarcasm Steve was almost sure had come from him.

"I don't know, Henderson," Eddie said, leaning forward. He was having entirely too much fun already, his grin sharp and smug in the same way Max often got when she started a fight amongst the boys. "Robin is making a lot of sense. No good drug dealer gets high off his own supply."

"See! I--" Robin's triumphant shout was interrupted by her own sudden realization. "Oh, fuck, my dad is a drug dealer."

"You already knew that," Steve said, rubbing his hand against his forehead. His headache was beginning to make a reappearance.

"Yeah, but I was thinking about it in a moral way, not like..." Robin shrugged. "Him being a fucking loser."

"Wow, Buckley," Eddie drawled, mock offense all over his face. "That's really nice."

Despite Eddie's gleeful problem-causing, it opened up an opportunity for Steve to finally step in. Now that Robin's ire was split in two, he might be able to get out of this without getting his head bitten off. "Alright, all of you, stop it. There's some coffee in the kitchen if you want some, Robin."

"Thank--" Robin began, but Dustin interrupted her, yelling over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Oh, Steve, do you have anymore Smurfberry Crunch?"

"Uh, yeah?" Steve said. "I think there's a whole box left over in the--"

"Great, thanks, Steve!" Dustin's voice echoed out of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make sure the kid doesn't eat you out of house and home," Robin said, which Steve was pretty sure just meant that she was going to try and eat all the snacks before Dustin could get to them. Still, he watched her boost herself out of his seat and skip into the kitchen without saying a word.

He still wasn't sure that he was used to having people in his house like this. Steve didn't think of himself as a lonely person, really; He had no problem going out to find the company he needed. Someone was always willing to have Steve Harrington hang out on their couch for a couple hours, or to joy ride in some neighbor's old pickup, or to drive to Lafayette and get dinner that wasn't made by someone you'd known your entire life. There was always someone by his side, until recently. Tommy, Carol, and strings of dates and teammates had made sure of that.

It was the house that was lonely, not Steve. Even Tommy and Carol didn't like staying in it for too long-- They never said much about it, but Steve didn't think it was coincidence that they always hung out by the pool, even on nights when the air was on the wrong side of freezing. When they did spend time outdoors, they overcompensated, inviting everyone whose name they knew. There was no popularity gate for a Harrington party, just because the adoring, unworthy masses were so handy in making the house feel alive for once.

Even when he'd given all that up, Nancy hadn't stuck around Steve's for very long-- They spent most of their time at her place, which Steve hadn't really minded. He'd wondered if Nancy also felt trapped in the vast expanse of his parents' house, or if she just preferred to not be the one to sneak out at the end of the night, but he'd never asked. Now, he just wondered if that was another reason that Byers had outdone him-- If the cramped but cozy home of a real family was a necessary ingredient in a real future.

It had certainly been part of what drew Steve to Nancy, but then, he'd never really thought of family being all that important to her. Maybe that was just another thing he'd missed, along with everything else between them.

With the Wheelers' house no longer a comfortable escape for him, Hopper and El's cabin had been a surpring replacement. And Steve loved it there, he really did-- Loved how small and worn and soft everything was, how clean didn't mean empty and echoing. He loved the fireplace with ash in the hearth, and their smelly, patchy couch, and the way the refridgerator door hung loose. It was a small place, though, and although Steve knew that Hopper and El would never think it, he knew that he didn't always fit. Especially the nights Joyce or Mike came over-- That was a level of family that he just didn't fit into, and Steve didn't know if it was in his head or if everyone was just too kind to say it, but he felt too over-large and clumsy to be welcome, those nights.

The kids helped, though. All of them. Even Mike was tolerable when he and El weren't trying to climb into each other's pockets, and the kid's attitude had taken a noticeable upturn once Steve and Nancy's break up had proven to be as boring as possible. He was over here the most often, after Dustin, the both of them dragging Will and Lucas along with them-- Max came too, sometimes, usually alone.

Steve hadn't expected Robin to make herself part of the conquering forces staking her claim on the Harrington house, however. Although he thought they were something approaching friends-- he wasn't sure what other choice they had in the matter, at this point --the last thing he had ever expected to see was Robin Buckley walking into his kitchen like she owned the place.

He watched her through the archway for a moment, smiling when she went right to her favorite mug, before turning back to Eddie. He stalled when he found Eddie's large, brown eyes on him already.

"You sure there's nothing I can get for you?" Steve prompted.

While he hated the idea of watching Eddie make a move on Robin in his own kitchen, he supposed it was at least polite to give him the chance. It's what Steve would have done, if the object of his current obsession had been some nice neighborhood girl, instead of Eddie Munson himself. Sure, he probably would have been a little more subtle about things, but if it had been him and Nancy in some random dude's house, he wouldn't have left her side.

Maybe Eddie was shy, Steve thought. Maybe he just needed a little nudge towards the kitchen, or confirmation that Steve and Robin weren't ever going to be a thing. Steve's stomach churned with jealousy, but it was the least he could do to give that to them. If that's what would make them happy. It wasn't like Steve would ever deserve Eddie's attention, anyway.

Eddie did stand at Steve's prompting, though to his surprise, he didn't make a move for the kitchen. In fact, Steve wasn't sure if Eddie had even glanced in Robin's direction as she left. Instead, he just stepped closer to Steve, hands in his pockets in a show of faux nonchalance. Like everything else Eddie had ever done, Steve couldn't be sure if he was supposed to buy into Eddie's dramatics, or if the obvious theatrics were part of the performance.

"You know," Eddie said, ignoring Steve's polite offer. "I've always wondered what happens when a Grimm takes Wesen drugs. You ever try one?"

"No." Steve's nose scrunched in disgust. "Why? You don't sell any of that shit, do you?"

"Nah." Luckily, Eddie didn't seem offended by the question. If anything, his smile only got wider. " Couldn't exactly call myself wieder if I was carrying around human remains in my lunch box, could I?"

A fair point, Steve had to admit. Wayne, at the very least, would probably have knocked some sense into him by this point. It made Steve feel a little better about letting Dustin (and probably the other boys) walk into Eddie's psuedo-cult. And, if he was being honest, his own taste in men. Then again--

"But selling cocaine and Special K is super humanitarian, right?" Steve said, rolling his eyes. Selling coke to high school kids wasn't as bad as trafficking human organs, but Steve was still determined to have some standards for himself. A pair of big, brown eyes couldn't dismiss everything.

"You sound mad, Stevie," Eddie said, his voice curling around the syllables like smoke. "You used to be one of my best customers. What happened?"

They both knew what had happened-- Steve had never been buying for himself, only reaching out to Eddie because he was the one with the cash, the one who never had parents breathing down his neck, the one whose house the drugs would be the safest in. He wasn't surprised Eddie had noticed, either; The man hadn't been joking when he'd said that Steve was his best customer.

In the beginning, Steve had spent most of his allowance on supplying the older kids, ones who couldn't be seen dead with twitchy sophomore Eddie Munson, who hadn't yet grown into his hair or nose yet. It was this role that had let him rocket to popularity as a freshman, a rare feat even in small towns. Although Steve had slowed it down, once his position solidified, it was well known that Steve was generous with his friends in all their vices. When the party invitations dried up, though, so had his wallet-- And Eddie's profits, presumably.

Steve didn't feel much like dragging out dirty laundry, or defending himself. He knew what he looked like, knew what people thought of him. If Eddie wanted to give him shit for ancient history, Steve could play along. It was becoming something of a theme in his every friendship.

"Believe it or not, Munson, I've never thought that fighting monsters on a coke high was a super good idea."

"'s probably for the best. New word on the vine is that it can split your pretty little head wide open if you take too much, and you've already had one bonk too many." And then Eddie leaned close, reaching out. Steve tensed, watching Eddie's hand like a poorly socialized dog, resisting the urge to snarl. He forced himself to stand still, afraid that running would only give away how badly Steve wanted Eddie's hands on him. He could feel his adrenaline flood his veins, the bullet-time of flight or fight kicking through his system, and he watched Eddie's fingers curl into a fist.

Eddie's knuckles rapped gently against Steve's forehead, and that, Steve understood. That was the only way he and Tommy were allowed to touch each other-- Teasing words followed by the gentle fascimile of violence, pulling back before it could become anything greater. Steve had always assumed that was his fault, that the breadth of his obsession had colored every touch between them, but maybe that was normal? Maybe that was how men were, with each other, when they were normal. When they didn't crave to be touched gently like a drug, maybe a shove was just a shove. Maybe--

Everything in Steve had been prepared for Eddie to pull away, for that familiar disappointment to hit low in his gut once an appropriate distance was between them once more. His own hand rose to bat Eddie's away; It was easier to be alone in his skin when he was the first to pull away, the first to scoff and pretend the touch of another man was nothing more than an unavoidable inconvenience.

To Steve's surprise, though, Eddie didn't let the tease linger long enough for Steve to push him away-- Instead, Eddie's hand unfurled, the loose fist turning into a gentle caress, as he pushed an lock of hair off of Steve's forehead.

It was a familiar move, one Steve himself had pulled out more than a time or two. He knew it worked, and he knew why. Girls loved it because they thought it meant that they were being taken care of, and because it was a declaration of intent. It they actually liked the guy pulling the move, it made them feel safe but sought after-- And, unfortunately, making a girl feel safe was usually the best way to get what you wanted from them. Steve liked to think himself a little better than that, but he had to admit it was a useful move when a date was just a as little too shy or too oblivious to catch the hint of a kiss.

As familiar as Steve was with the move, he had never been on this side of it. Had never really thought about how it felt, not the emotions after the dust settled, but the actual brush of skin against skin in the moment-- He had never really cared about the actual touch of it, before, except for the split-second calculation of how long to let the fingers curled against her skin linger. None of that prepared Steve for this, not for the edge of Eddie's callouses tracing a line of heat across Steve's skin, or the way he felt himself quiver down to the very molecules.

"Must be pretty serious if you're letting your loyal subjects see you so unkempt, Your Majesty," Eddie said, the smile on his face holding such a warmth that Steve was certain he must have imagined it.

Steve was suddenly aware of the fact that he couldn't feel his fingers anymore.

"Oh," he said. Somewhere inside him was King Steve, hidden away where Steve could reach for him if he needed a little extra confidence. His own words lost in the thrum of his pulse, Steve tried to pull the old persona back on like a worn cape, but his grasping came up empty. There was nothing in Steve's brain besides the echo of his own absent thoughts and the exact color of Eddie Munson's eyes. "Um..."

"Okay, so are we doing this in here?" Robin's voice said from the doorway.

Eddie had stepped back and away before Steve even registered Robin's presence just over Eddie's shoulder. In a single breath, it was like they had never touched-- Eddie had never been subtle, and now his movements were even more obvious, almost leaping back to his side of the couch.

Robin stared at him for a moment, paused halfway through a sip of Steve's coffee. Eddie stared back, eyes wide, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Her gaze slid over to Steve.

Swallowing his disappointment, Steve shook the static from his hands. "Doing what?" he said.

Robin looked at him like she was as worried about the condition of his brain as Eddie had pretended to be mere moments ago. "... The meeting? You were supposed to tell us what your source dug up, right?"

Eddie brightened, the awkwardness falling away from his face. He threw himself back onto the couch, chains jangling as he bounced on the cushions. "Yeah, Harrington," he said, eagerly. "Tell us what your government boys found out."

The dread that Steve had carried around with him all morning came flooding back into the pit of his stomach. The guilt was even keener now that he had let Eddie and the others distract him; He didn't deserve to have a soft morning, filled with laughter and flirtation, when he had let such bad things happen. Steve knew that. But he also couldn't pretend that a lot of the nausea didn't come from knowing he was about to lose this. After today, he was going to lose them both, and that... stung in a way Steve didn't really know how to process.

It wasn't that Steve considered them his best friends, or assumed he was as important to them. Eddie, especially, would never fit into Steve's life the way Steve hoped-- But that was okay. Steve had become used to that, over the years. But there was a potential there, with Eddie and Robin both. If Steve let himself, he knew that he could fall ass over tits in love with the both of them, in very different ways. And, when he let himself hope, he thought that they might love him a little one day, too. Not after this, though. Not after what he'd done.

Eddie would drop him first, of course. Steve wasn't even sure if the dude liked him at all, or if they were still in the era of begrudging allies. It was obvious that the guy was only in it for the kids, and Steve didn't blame him for that-- But when it was so obvious that Steve was somehow even worse at protecting the Wesen kids of Indiana than his own parents, there wasn't much reason for the guy to stick around.

Robin might hold out for a day or two, just because they had started to make progress on their friendship already. Maybe a week, if he were lucky. But then it would be missed calls, and switched shifts at work... It had been about the fun for her, the thrill of solving a mystery. When the fun went away, so would she. Steve just hoped she could work out this thing with her dad on her own. Maybe Dustin could help.

Speaking of Dustin, just him being there helped Steve breathe easier. While the kid would probably be upset, might even ignore Steve for a little while, he knew that what they had been through was too much for the kid to drop him over one fuck up. Steve might have to grovel, and he'd be paying for arcade trips and McDonald's dinners for the rest of his natural life, but he'd always have the kid by his side. That knowledge alone kept Steve from chickening out. Or throwing up. Or moving to Chicago and changing his name to Bryan.

Which was good, because somewhere beneath all the panic, Steve knew this was his only real choice. It would be hard, but it would make things less complicated and, distressingly, it was the right thing to do. They deserved to know the truth. The kids deserved to have their story told, even if it should come from worthier lips than Steve's.

"Hey Dustin!" Steve called, a man assembling his own firing squad. "Get in here, man."

Dustin ambled out of the kitchen, with a large salad bowl overfull of cereal and milk in his hands. "Yeah?" he mumbled through a full mouth, milk dribbling down his chin.

"Fucking seriously, Henderson?" Eddie snorted.

"What? Its yummy!"

Steve pinched his nose. All three of them seemed to be determined to be as Looney Tunes as possible today. "Just... put the cereal down, okay?"

Grumbling under his breath, Dustin complied, sitting his bowl on the coffee table and sitting on the couch next to Eddie. Robin retook her stolen seat, and they all looked up at Steve.

Struggling not to squirm under their attention, Steve struggled to break the news. "I have... I have something I need to tell you all before we start talking about next options." He hesitated, hand rising to his face once again to rub at his nose. He knew it was an awful tell, the kind of thing he'd been trying to train himself out of forever, but the lack of sleep and overabundance of nerves proved to be too much for Steve's thinning willpower.

Robin's eyes narrowed, obviously clocking the gesture. "What happened?"

"So..." Steve began, wincing. "So, over the weekend, while we were working-- It was just two days, really, I don't... Look, I don't know all the details yet so it might have nothing to do with the case, but--"

All the amusement was gone from Eddie's eyes, leaving him with the same flat, angry expression that he'd had upon finding Steve and the others rooting around in his backyard. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"Five more kids went missing this weekend."

The words fell out of his mouth like a curse.

Before he even had time to regret his own lack of tact, Eddie was on his feet again. The woge had torn across him before his feet had even hit the floor, creasing Eddie's brow and elongating his face. His eyes were still the same, though, big and brown and warped with betrayal. Steve had expected it-- even a wieder's iron control couldn't withstand this kind of news --so he didn't flinch away from the sudden movement.

It took more experience than he had, though, to stop Steve's answering woge. He wasn't sure how he knew his eyes had gone glassy and black once more, but Steve could feel that even though he didn't deserve it, his body was still trying to protect him from Eddie's anger. He looked away, not because of Eddie's woge, but because he couldn't stand the thought of Eddie seeing the worst of himself right now.

Steve's gaze naturally fell to Dustin, next, though the sight wasn't any less heartbreaking. The kid was pale, his silence so obvious that he wore it like a physical object. Steve had never seen Dustin react to bad news with anything less than pure indignation, and the proof of how much he had failed to protect this kid was almost too much to bear. The only thing he'd succeeded in was giving Dustin another screaming nightmare.

Desperate for another steadying presence, Steve turned to Robin. She was uncharacteristically quiet as well, but luckily unlike Dustin, or really anyone else in the room, she seemed to be holding it together. Even sorrow hadn't seemed to touch her yet, as if she refused to be sad about something she didn't understand entirely yet. It was the kind of strength that Steve had missed in his life since distancing himself from Nancy, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for Robin's presence.

With a frown, Robin shook her head, asking, "How could we possibly have missed something that big?"

"They were all spread out," Steve said. After promising Nancy last night, she had given him all the information she'd been able to dig up. Even in her own grief, Nancy had been remarkably thorough. Though the news out of Indianapolis hadn't quiet picked up the thread, yet, she'd reached out to every contact she had and a few of Jonathan's and Murray's, too. She knew more about these kids than probably any detective in the state, and now Steve did, too.

"They were from five different counties, coming straight up from Kentucky," he continued, "I don't know much about what's going on with the media coverage outside of the information I was given. I think they're trying to keep it pretty quiet on the mainstream channels. As far as I know, the cops aren't talking about it like they're connected or anything, but, uh, one of the conspiracy groups that Nancy is plugged into is all over it. I don't know if they've made the connection to the kids from before, but it's only a matter of time." And once the cops figured it out, there would be no way for them to get involved without painting a target on their backs.

Claws flexing by his side, Eddie choked on a growl "I can't believe you would fucking let this happen," he said, the words gurgling in the back of his throat. It sounded painful, like his anger was squeezing at his windpipe. Steve frowned down at a stain on his mother's rug.

"That's not fair--" Dustin began, voice weak, but Eddie cut him off.

"No, fuck that!" Eddie turned on Steve, his lips pulled back into a snarl. "You ride around Hawkins acting like a fucking hero, and five kids die on our watch? And you just fucking missed it? God damn it, Harrington, do you even know their names? Do you even care?"

Steve wished he didn't. He wished that he had any hope that he could ever forget them. He wished he didn't know their parent's names, or the names of their schools. He wished he didn't hear their addresses and know the roads they lived on, wished that he had any chance of driving them again without thinking of his own mistakes. More than anything, he wished he could be strong enough to remember them without regrets, because that was what they deserved. He wished he could swallow his own guilt and be strong enough to live through his punishments.

It wouldn't help to tell Eddie any of that, though. It wouldn't make him any less angry and, besides, Steve deserved it. No apology would absolve him of his guilt, and whatever punishment Eddie thought was fit wouldn't even begin to wipe the blood from Steve's hands. There was nothing he could do but wait for the punishment to come and for the yelling to stop.

If there was one thing Steve was sure of, it was that the yelling always stopped, eventually, if you just kept your mouth shut and made it to the other side. For a few moments, Eddie held his glare, frown deepening as if he was trying to force the expression into permanence. When Steve made no move to give him the fight he was looking for, however, Eddie deflated, expression falling along with his stance. As he faded back into his human force, claws shrinking back into his skin, the flat planes on his face only made Eddie's eyes seem bigger and shinier. It made the tears beginning to well in the corners all too obvious, and Steve had to look away. Maybe he was a coward for it, but he couldn't watch Eddie cry.

"Sorry," Eddie choked out. "I'm sorry. Just-- Jesus fucking Christ."

"I know," Steve said, still staring hard at the floor. "It's okay."

Robin began to make an awful noise, painful jerks of sound caused by desperately trying not to sob. Steve crouched down to rub her back, wordless. There was nothing he could say to make this better-- Not for Robin, and not for Eddie or Dustin, either. Steve was honestly surprised this was the first time one of them had burst into tears; The amount of stress they'd put themselves under wasn't something the human brain dealt with easily. Even Dustin and Steve, who had shouldered traumas unacknowledged by science, were only used to small, short-term disasters. This thing with the kids had stretched into weeks, now. The only thing that kept Steve from joining them in their tears was the guilt.

The fact that Dustin wasn't crying was honestly starting to worry Steve, at this point. He knew how hard this was for Dustin, after everything with Will. El being presumed dead for so long probably hadn't helped, either. This should be effecting him more than anyone. But Dustin's eyes were dry, which could only mean that, at some point, Dustin had gotten used to living in a world where kids just... went missing. They just disappeared one day, or they died, and there was no use in crying because there was nothing he could do to stop it.

There was nothing that Steve regretted more than not being the person Dustin needed him to be at the beginning of all this. He knew that it was a silly regret, considering he hadn't even really known the kid until a full year after he and Nancy had started dating, but-- A part of him was convinced that if he had just gotten his shit together sooner, he might have been able to protect Dustin from all this.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" Eddie said, voice hollow

"We can't give up," Robin said between sniffles. "We just can't do that to those kids."

"Yeah, of course. Obviously, we're going to find them," Dustin said. "We still have, like, time, right?"

Even as he asked the question, Dustin didn't look convinced. Steve couldn't blame him.

They were all so young, too young for this kind of heartbreak. Were they just going to set themselves up to be crushed again? They had no leads. There was a ticking clock on the cops figuring out at least some of these cases were connected, and at that point things would only get more difficult. Maybe it would be better to let someone else take responsibility. Hell, maybe Steve's parents would hear the news and come home. He wasn't exactly ecstatic at the thought of trusting an adult with this, especially not his parents-- They were historically abysmal at finding justice for dead or missing kids --but he was running out of options. Even if he found the guy, then what? He was just going to drag these kids and who knows how many others into a fight with a serial killer?

"This is only going to get harder from here on out," Steve said. He struggled to keep his voice level, every syllable wanting to crack with sorrow. "Obviously, they've started going faster. More kids might-- More kids might go missing, and it might be even closer to home. If anyone wants to step away from this now, no one will blame you."

For a long moment, no one said anything. Dustin's gaze never lifted from the ground. Steve felt Robin shift against him, elbow digging into his ribs from how close she was pressed against him. Eddie was the only one who would look at him, and when Steve met his gaze, Eddie kept them locked. Steve had never been a fan of eye contact, and in the months since he'd discovered his woge, he'd gotten used to the people around him avoiding his gaze. Even Eddie and Wayne, who never seemed to take Steve seriously as a threat, avoided eye contact whenever possible. Now, though, Eddie was looking into Steve's eyes like he would find answers there that Steve's voice wouldn't give him.

Despite the first jolt of shock, Steve didn't feel the urge to squirm away from the intimacy of it. It filled him with relief, because if Eddie was looking at him, then it meant this wasn't over. Eddie wasn't going to leave; Even if he was angry, that still meant he cared. Steve knew what indifference looked like, and it was nothing like the depth of the emotion swimming in Eddie's eyes.

But the longer Steve looked back, the longer he allowed it, Steve realised that he couldn't read Eddie. He knew annoyance, he knew indifference, he knew pity, and lust, and mocking, but whatever Eddie was trying to show him felt ancient and sacred in a way that Steve hadn't known emotions could be. Like Eddie had taken whatever primal thing existed inside of Steve, the link he had to the people who had once invented love and fear and hatred, and was trying to cradle it in his palms.

Steve looked away.

"Okay. Okay, well, I've been thinking about it," he said, trying to gather the plans that had been scattered by exhaustion, "and there are next steps. First off, we gotta find out what exactly the cops know before the evidence is too old to be any use. Nancy's working on looking into it, but it might have to be slow to not raise eyebrows, so we should--"

"Sorry, Nancy? Nancy Wheeler?" The shock in Eddie's voice wasn't exactly a surprise, but the disdain was. Steve could feel himself prickling at the tone already, even as he tried to tell himself that Eddie was still just looking for a fight.

The problem was, Steve had never been good at not fighting over, for, or about Nancy Wheeler. Besides, if he was being honest, Steve wanted a fight almost as badly as Eddie seemed to. Schoolyard fights had never been something that Steve was allowed to indulge in with the other kids, because a Harrington didn't indulge in such vulgarity, but he had craved it. Sought after it. The summer between middle school and high school had been a summer spent hiding busted knuckles and bruised lips. It was the freest Steve had ever felt.

Billy had been the last real fight that Steve had allowed himself to have, and it would be so much better with Eddie. Because Eddie was gorgeous, and kind, and Steve wouldn't hate himself when he looked at himself and saw Eddie's bruises on his skin--

"What about her, Munson?" Steve grit out, teeth clenched tight around the thought of knowing the shape of Eddie's fist.

"That's your inside source?" Eddie said, a sarcastic laugh warbling the last few syllables. "Your fucking Mathletes ex-girlfriend?"

Steve huffed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, Eddie, but Nance has done this before. And she's tougher than she looks. You don't have to worry about her."

Eddie woged once again, and Steve struggled not to smirk in the victory of provoking Eddie into losing control twice in one day. "I don't care if she's a fucking Siegbarste, Harrington, she's a high school girl who weighs 90 pounds soaking wet. What happened to those government guys you kept bragging about, huh?" he continued, taking a threatening step towards Steve. "They in fucking middle school?"

"These aren't men I can just call up and have it go away," Steve said, glaring up at Eddie. He refused to give him the satisfaction of moving him. "If they come help they are going to be in our shit until they're satisfied. They're not loyal to anyone in Hawkins and, frankly, I can't trust them."

"So this is about you thinking you're more important than some dead kids, is that it?"

"What? No--"

"Steve is right," Dustin said, finally looking up at them. His small, sad voice cut through the argument like a knife. All three older teens turned to him, falling silent until he continued. "It's not us. There are Wesen here that Owens and his men can't know about. If we call them here without being careful, it's not just us and the kids that are in danger. It's all of Hawkins. Maybe everyone clear to Lafayette. Who knows how big they'll make the gas leak next time."

He had considered this before, Steve realized. Of course, Steve had, too-- Nancy and El had never let him forget how much danger the government was to all of them, now that they knew so much. But he had thought that maybe the kids had been spared that knowledge, that maybe childhood innocence and good ol' fashioned American propoganda had spared them from that fear. The way Dustin spoke, though, made it abundantly clear that he was absolutely aware that one day, the wrong person might decide that Dustin Henderson and everyone he loved needed to die.

Steve was suddenly on Eddie's side, when it came to the future of America. Or maybe even a little more radical-- Steve could see the logic in wanting to burn the entire thing down, never stopping until everyone who had ever failed his kid was groveling at his feet.

"Wait, wait, wait. Why does the infant know about these government guys?" Eddie asked, voice filled with the same horror Steve had become all too familiar with in '83. "What the fuck have you been doing, Harrington?"

"Steve didn't do anything, Eddie, please--"

Robin pulled away from Steve, and when he looked back to her she had turned to face him. Her eyes were colder than he had ever seen them, even when she had hated him, and though she still didn't make eye contact, he could feel the intensity of her glare burning through his skin. Somehow, things were going even worse than Steve had imagined.

"I'd actually like to know the answer to that question, too, Steve," she said. Her voice belied a little of her usual nervousness, but her gaze didn't flinch.

"Rob..."

"No, Steve. I've tried to stay out of it, because you obviously don't want to talk about it--"

"I can't!" he said. Of course he wanted to tell her. Of course he did. He had never been the kind for big secrets. They drove him absolutely crazy, and that was why he had to ignore it. He had to, because it wasn't safe. It was bad enough that they had pulled Max into everything, last year. Steve couldn't handle another person with a target on their back because of the Upside Down.

Robin continued, as if he had never spoken. "--but you both keep bringing it up, and I can't just let it go anymore. I want to know what happened."

"Robin, I signed papers," he sighed.

"There are kids dying, Steve."

"That's not... It's not even connected!"

"How do you know that?" Eddie cut in. "Are you sure? Or are you just praying that it isn't?"

Steve looked to Dustin, praying for back up, but the kid only shrugged. He knew that Dustin would probably be willing to tell them, because they wanted to know-- Dustin was even worse at secrets than Steve, not out of obsession but out of sheer joy for imparting knowledge. It probably had ocurred to him that Eddie and Robin would be in danger if anyone ever found out what they knew, but Dustin was the kind of person to think it was worth it.

Steve wasn't that person. He couldn't be. He couldn't let Dustin paint a bigger, more legal target on his back, and he definitely couldn't drag Robin and Eddie into this. They could leave if they wanted to, but he wasn't going to hurt them like that.

"You have no idea what you're asking me to do to you," Steve said. He stood, stepping back to put distance between him and Robin.

"What the fuck, Harrington." All the anger was gone from Eddie's voice, leaving only vacant betrayal. Steve wanted to leave, wanted to sit in his bedroom floor and scream for half an hour. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his chest and dug his fingers into his sides until he felt his ribs ache.

"What's the fucking point then, man?" Eddie continued. "I'd have better luck finding this guy if I walked out the door right now and did it myself."

Something inside Steve broke. He was so tired of being left behind. He was so tired of watching people walk away. He was so tired of being told, without a trace of doubt, that life was better without Steve Harrington in it. He was so fucking tired of the fight, every fight, even the ones he asked for, being bigger than the love he had to give. He was so fucking tired, and when he was tired and cornered, Steve was known to bite.

"And what are you gonna do when you find the guy, Eddie?" Steve asked, baring his teeth. "Huh? You gonna wieder him to death? You gonna give him a big, long speech about how life is so unfair and he should feel bad about himself?"

Eddie pulled back, hurt flashing through his eyes as his woge fell away. "Man, fuck you--"

Steve wasn't done with him yet. "It doesn't fucking matter, does it? Because if by some miracle you get the balls to actually take the guy out, my parents are going to fucking kill you. In fact, I'm the only person in this room, maybe the only person in this entire fucking state, who has a fucking chance of not having my parents put me down afterwards, so maybe everyone should just shut the fuck up and listen to me!"

It was only after the words echoed through the room that Steve realised how much he was beginning to sound like Hopper. So much so, in fact, that Steve thought maybe he should have just invited the man along. Maybe this was what they needed, in the end, because Steve knew he was right. He was right, and he needed them to listen, and he needed them to stay.

Just this fucking once.

"Are we--" Robin's small, quiet voice tentatively broke the silence. "Are we going to talk about you saying that you only had a chance at your parents not--"

Steve buried his face in his hands and felt a scream rising in his throat. So fucking much for the 'listening' part, apparently.

"I told you, Robin," he heard Dustin whisper. "Terminal fucking parental issues."

"That is not the fucking point, guys," Eddie said, sounding awkward and a little scandalized about the whole thing.

"No, the point is their legion of secrets that they won't tell anyone," Robin said.

"Lots of people know; Just not you."

"Dustin..."

"Look, I don't have a problem with either of you knowing," Dustin said, "but if Steve thinks it's a bad idea, then I trust his judgement."

That was enough to get Steve to emerge from his tantrum, a little mollified by the loyalty."Thank you, Dustin."

"But if it effects the case, then we deserve to--" Robin began, but Steve was done. He wasn't just going to stand there and hear it all relitigated. Not when he'd already made his decision, and definitely not when people's lives were on the line. The lack of sleep was beginning to get to him, his head woozy and aching. Steve needed water and a Tylenol, and then probably more water-- He'd spent most of the night anxiety puking, and he was starting to feel like a dead bug.

Tuning out Robin's protests, Steve walked into the kitchen-- But not before Eddie caught him by the arm, fingers tight at Steve's elbow. Steve leaned away, his body moving on instinct to push Eddie away or yank his arm out of Eddie's grip, but before he could start the fight Eddie had been asking for, the Blutbad threw him for a loop.

"Are you okay, Steve?"

It was hard not the scoff at the audacity, honestly.

Steve tugged his arm out of Eddie's grip, more gently than he had planned, and kept walking. Maybe he was being a little hypocritical about the whole thing, but Steve thought he was allowed. His brain already felt like it was in a pressure cooker, and Eddie's inability to decide whether or not he liked Steve was rapidly becoming least favorite thing. Being angry was one thing; Steve had expected that, had almost expected Eddie to never speak to him again, but there was really no reason to be so wishy-washy about it. Even before the bad news, Eddie had blown hot and cold, all the way until the end. Eddie couldn't even keep his name consistent-- He was a disdainful Harrington in one breath, and Steve again in the next.

It was like dating Nancy again, only worse, because now Steve didn't even know what he was supposed to be doing. There was no rules for if a dude was playing hard to get about being your fucking friend, of all things. Of all the things that had happened in the last few months, that was definitely the strangest.

Did adulthood always make friendship so complicated, Steve thought as he pulled a glass out of the cabinet, or was it the monster shit that had it all screwed up?

Turning on the faucet, Steve didn't hear the walkie-talkie that he had abandoned, months ago, on its charger on the kitchen counter crackle to life. It was only when the voice repeated itself, annoyance clear in its voice, that Steve could even make it out over the rush of water.

"Hello? Are any of you losers there?"

It was a girl's voice, faintly familiar but obviously not Max or El's. It was far too young to be anyone else on their frequency, younger than even the Party, maybe. They also weren't using any of the codes or ettiquette Dustin and Lucas had written out for them, so it couldn't have been one of their school friends-- At least, not one with any real fear of being lectured for hours about it. Sitting his glass down, Steve reached over and grabbed the walkie off the stand.

"Who is this?" he asked, slowly. He wasn't sure how this could be a trap, but it certainly felt like one.

"Who am I?" the voice said. "Who is this? Are the nerd herd with you?"

Ah, that made more sense-- Steve finally recognized the voice, and why he knew it. Erica Sinclair, Lucas's little sister, had been a frequent guest at Scoops Ahoy all summer, although she had an obvious disdain for her brother and all his friends. And that, of course, included Steve. Maybe even especially Steve, since he was the one old enough to know better. Most of her visits were uninterrupted roast sessions, but Steve enjoyed them; She was honestly really funny, and it was nice to spend time with a kid unaffected by the Upside Down. It was the same reason while he still looked after Holly months after he broke up with Nancy.

"Oh, hello, Erica. It's Steve. Are you looking for your brother?"

"What other loser would I be talking about?"

"Um, he's not here," Steve said, glancing over his shoulder at the group waiting for him in the living room. "Maybe he'll pick up on his walkie if you keep trying?"

Erica huffed. Steve wasn't sure why she needed to broadcast her huff to him, but he was sure it was a carefully calculated attack. "Idiot, I'm on his walkie!"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Steve said. A beat passed, then, "Wait, he left his walkie at home?"

That didn't make any sense. Steve frowned. Lucas was always the most responsible of the group, and the only one Steve trusted to make good decisions in an emergency situation. The idea that he would just leave their only dependable lifeline at home? Nonsensical. It hadn't even been a full year since the last Upside Down incident. The kids were smarter than that. And if they weren't, then Steve was going to kick their ass... After he pulled Lucas out of whatever situation he'd gotten himself into.

"Eyes on the prize, Harrington, because that is so not the point." Erica's voice lost some of it's brovado, although she was still giving a valiant effort. "Lucas said this walkie was for emergencies, and I'm calling one in. Do you know where Lucas is?"

Dread started building in Steve's stomach. "Uh, no, but I-- Dustin is here, I'll ask him."

Steve jogged to the living room, adrenaline starting to fizz through his veins. Things were starting to pile up in a way that Steve didn't trust-- Lucas was missing and Erica was calling for him, frightened, while a known serial kidnapper was loose in the area? He knew the chances that the Blutbad would go after his kids were low, but the chances of having a MKUltra victim with super powers as a little sister were also pretty low. He had a feeling that he couldn't shake, one so strong that it was beginning to make him dizzy.

Luckily, the argument in the living room had mostly died down in Steve's short absence, although Dustin was looking at him like someone had kicked his dog.

"Dustin, do you know where Lucas is today?"

Dustin's face creased with thought, a frown appearing on his face. Steve pressed the talk button so Erica could hear his answer, too. "At Mike's, I think? They were all meeting up for a big oneshot to cheer Will up--"

"Of course he's playing that stupid nerd game when I need him!" Erica interrupted. "I already called the Wheelers, and no one picked up, because they're all in that smelly, stupid basement--"

Despite all of Erica's bluster, Steve could hear the genuine fear in her voice. And, sure, maybe they were both being paranoid-- There had been a lot of times when Steve had been home alone, scared out of his wits, when there had been nothing wrong but an overactive imagination. If she just kept calling Mike, someone would pick up, eventually. Mike was never more than two steps from his walkie, even though he wasn't as strict with things as Dustin was-- But then, Steve would have said the same about Lucas until today. Besides, who knew how long that would take?

Steve prayed he was wrong, but he was pretty sure they didn't have time.

"Erica, what's wrong?" Steve asked, trying to override the panic in her brain with his voice. "Where are your parents?"

"They went to a church thing?" Erica said, like even in a life or death situation, she really didn't care what her parents did with their time. "They were supposed to be back by now, I don't know where they are."

Charles and Sue Sinclair were wonderful parents; Steve knew that for a fact. There was no reason to think that they would leave Erica alone if there was a chance she was in danger. The neighbors were probably watching the house, just to give Erica the illusion of the freedom that she so often demanded. They probably just got sidetracked with something on their way home-- Erica and Lucas took care of themselves all the time, always floating from one friends' house to the next with the happy knowledge that their parents would come get them, no matter what. Steve knew that.

But even if Erica didn't recognize the fear and confusion in her own voice, Steve did. He still heard it come out of his mouth when he ran into his middle school English teacher at the grocery store, or when his Little League coach stopped him at the park. He hated being asked where his parents were, how they were getting on, what they were doing. He hated being reminded of his own blind spot, the giant, bleeding weakness plain as day on his back.

"Okay, well, keep calm--" Steve tried.

"What I do know is that mouthbreather brother of mine better show up fast," Erica said, voice jumping in her throat, "because there are people trying to get in my house, and I am not playing with these white people's nonsense today!"

"What?" Dustin said, although Steve could barely hear him over the sudden roaring in his ears. "Next time start with that!"

And suddenly it was real. The trickle of adrenaline that had been slowly increasing his heartrate suddenly became a flood, and Steve could feel when it crossed from human into something else. Every cell in his body came alive, and the chill from his veins suddenly consumed the entire world. Everything was cold and clear, like the silence after the first snow of the winter-- Every harried thought, every extraneous emotion, fell away suddenly, and Steve knew exactly what to do.

There wasn't enough time to consult the rest of the room, and Steve wouldn't have listened if they tried to stop him, anyway. They were smart Wesen, clever friends and allies, and as Steve turned and headed for the front door, he trusted them to follow. He tossed the walkie to Robin as he passed, not bothering to stop long enough to see how her surprised, fumbling catch turned out

"Stay on the line with her," Steve said as he pulled on his boots. They were new, a paranoid purchase he'd made from a catalogue one night after a nightmare about the tunnels. They pulled at his feet as he shoved them on, too new to offer any comfort or real support, but the extra weight behind his foot would be worth the blisters it would give him.

"Hey, Erica! It's Robin!"

Eddie scrambled to put his Reeboks on and take his jacket off at the same time, hopping along on one foot. He nearly bowled Dustin over as the kid bent over to put his own shoes on.

"Is everybody in this house except my brother?"

"Uh. Yeah, basically."

"Typical."

Robin was talking to Erica like nothing was happening, and it was just another day of making fun of Steve at Scoops, but she was never less than a full step behind Steve's heels. Some distant part of Steve's brain that still cared about things like loyalty and free will was so grateful for her-- For her willingness to take this on, and her ability to keep Erica calm. And although Eddie was far clumsier, there was no denying that he was just as eager to have Steve's back. The Blutbad left his leather jacket thrown over the back of Steve's couch, and as Steve and Robin flew down the stairs, Steve could hear the delicate sounds of Eddie's jewlerey landing in the Harrington key bowl.

Eddie was a weider, preparing to go to war for a little girl he'd never met. Robin was a fuchsbau, a psuedo-predator who worked in the shadows, with her teeth already bared in challenge. These people were so fucking good.

Dustin lagged behind, panting as he sprinted after them, his shoes still untied.

"Hey! Hey, will you athletic predator assholes please slow down for the rest of us?"

Steve's Grimm brain hated that idea. He needed Dustin to stay home, needed to make sure that at least one of his family was safe at home. Even past the fear, there was the cold hard logic of what Steve needed to do. How was he supposed to get Erica out of there alive if half his brain was focused instead on keeping Dustin out of trouble? Being a babysitter was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but it didn't mesh with Grimming. Dustin could boss him around about it all he wanted, but he would do it over the walkie, where he would be safe.

"You're staying here," Steve said, yanking open the Bimmer door. "Hold the fort down, okay, Henderson?"

"You're insane if you think I'm going to let you go without me," Dustin said, cheeks puffing as he huffed. "If this is the guy--"

"If it's the guy then you're in just as much danger as Erica is with him. Stay home!"

"If something goes wrong, someone needs to be around to call for back up."

"That's what Eddie and Robin--" Steve began, but Robin's harried voice cut him off.

"Guys!" She leveled Steve with a wide-eyed look over the car door. "I get it, but we're running out of time."

Fuck, but she wasn't wrong. Steve gave her a short, tense nod, and then turned back to Dustin.

"Fine," he said, because there was no telling what Dustin would do once he was left to his own devices. "But you stay behind me, and you keep your mouth shut. Understood?"

For the first time in his life, Dustin didn't look interested in arguing. He nodded furiously, pushing past Steve to crawl into the Bimmer's backseat with Eddie, who immediately began bitching about Dustin climbing all over him. Steve gave himself one moment of humanity to sigh and briefly close his eyes, preying for a little patience and a lot of luck. When he finally heard the door slam behind Dustin, Steve pulled the Grimm back over him like a cloak, and started the ignition.

The drive to the Sinclair house was both the fastest and the longest it's ever felt. Steve had been driving Hawkins' streets daily for years now, long before it was legal-- The past few months, especially, had him driving between his house and the Sinclairs' most days of the week, with stops at the Hendersons', the Byers', and the Wheelers' in between. There were no stops today, and Steve used every trick and shortcut he'd ever learned on these roads. He ran every red light, cut every corner possible, and still every inch felt like it was taking a millenium.

Part of Steve hoped that Hop or one of his lackeys was lying in wait somewhere, ready to stop any joyriding teens or overworked house wife from running rampant. His car wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and they probably knew they wouldn't have to chase him down to ticket him, but ever since he'd been dropping by the station to say hi to Hop, they'd taken great glee in pulling him over. Usually, Steve was a huge bitch about it, but he would welcome it today-- He had no idea what he was about to drive into, and having armed back up was always welcome.

Unfortunately, the cops seemed to only like Steve when he didn't want them around, because no one even blinked at Steve's driving. Not even his passengers-- Eddie's eyes were glued to the road like he was the one driving, and Robin, who usually slapped Steve on the arm when he took a turn a little too fast, was rambling about something inconsequential to Erica. Dustin's eyes were closed, and he hadn't moved since they'd gotten on the road. Claudia had never mentioned religion to Steve, collapsed or otherwise, and Dustin was a science man through and through, but for a moment Steve had to wonder if Dustin was praying.

Steve slid into the Sinclair's road sideways, a move he hadn't pulled since he was stupid and picking up girls in the Melvad's parking lot at night. The smell of burnt rubber filled the car, and he could hear the distinct crunch of the neighbor's garden gnomes falling sacrifice to the abused tires. Dustin was the first to throw open the door, sending a trashcan bouncing into the neighbor's yard.

In front of them, parked on the street, was an unmarked white van. As Steve got out of the car, he motioned towards it with his head-- It was a bit cliched, sure, but it was also an unfamiliar vehicle at the scene of a kidnapping. Robin frowned as she came up next to him, and Eddie, who was trying to shove Dustin back in the car, paused for a moment.

"No plates?" he said, frowning as he pinned Dustin against the seat with his forearm. "Not exactly a great sign."

"What the fuck does Hop even have the officers doing?" Steve muttered under his breath.

Robin was already heading towards the Sinclair's driveway. "We're here, okay, Erica? We're here. Everything's going to be--" Steve yanked the walkie from her grip. He appreciated how well she held it together on the way here, but she wasn't exactly his first choice for a negotiator in a life or death situation.

"Erica, this is Steve. Listen to me. Whatever you do, keep away from the windows," Steve said, scanning the front of the Sinclair house. He'd like to send her to the second floor, out of the way of any crossfire, but if she needed a fast exit from the back door, it would only make things more difficult. "Put as many walls between you and the front of the house as you possibly can. Okay?"

"Excuse me--" Erica's voice said, but he tossed the walkie back to Robin. There wasn't any more time left for negotiations.

Steve began to slowly approach the van, trying to keep his gait casual, but he doubted anyone would think a roving band of teens was up to anything but mischief. Especially with as hot of an entrance as Steve had made. Eddie finally let Dustin up, hissing at him to stay close, and the kid only threw him a dirty look before rushing to Steve's side.

The van was clean and well-maintained, just unassuming enough to be obviously from out of town. There wasn't a single Hawkins handyman who put that much thought into their vehicle, and the mechanics advertised their skills through their own rides-- No one else in town would drive a van like this at all; Even the soccer moms had better taste. Hell, the only person who actually lived in Hawkins who drove a van every day was Eddie.

"There's still a driver inside," Steve muttered. He couldn't make out a face, or any real features, but it was obviously a man. Short, brown hair, white skin, as unassuming as his vehicle. It wasn't possible to tell if he was Wesen or not from here, obviously, but it was stranger than the image Steve had in his head of his culprit-- It was much easier to think of some hulking Blutbad as a villian, some twisted version of Eddie or Wayne snatching kids up in the middle of the night. This was just... some guy.

"There's another one in the bushes next to the window," Eddie said under his breath. Steve followed his gaze back to the front of the Sinclairs' house.

The man had already turned to face them, and without the shadow of the car, Steve's new vision let him see the man's face. He was handsome, in a bland 1940s sort of way, the kind of man that wouldn't be too out of place in his mother's yearbooks. He, too, was brunette, with his hair closely cropped and slicked back. Everything else about him was equally unremarkable, from the white button down to the pressed but unaffected blue jeans.

The only thing Steve could focus on was his smile. He had never been really good at reading people's faces, but it wasn't hard to get what the man was trying to say, with the easy grin on his face. There was nothing wrong with him being here, nothing to catch him out on-- This was totally normal, and he was so trustworthy, and didn't you just want to move along?

Steve knew that move. Steve had practically invented that move. This smarmy asshole using it like this, to hurt kids and get away with it, was fucking infuriating. Was this really what had been going on? Had he really gotten away with this fifty fucking times? Steve had known people were stupid, but this was a new low. He could feel the familiar, inhuman anger growing in him, so sharp by now that it felt like his ribs were growing fangs. His chest panged, but for once Steve was grateful that his powers had given him a way to make his anger useful, for once.

"Eddie, I need you to watch my back and keep eyes on the driver. Sound good?"

Eddie nodded. He stayed close, at Steve's right shoulder, but as they turned down the Sinclair's driveway, he kept his upper body angled down the street. Dustin climbed into the front seat of the Bimmer, and waved his walkie at Steve through the open window.

Good, the little shit was listening to him for once.

The closer they got, the faker the asshole in front of them seemed. He obviously didn't belong here-- Although he had obviously tried to emulate the relaxed fatherly look of the men in the neighborhood, he was too clean and intentional to fit. His shirt was spotless and his blue jeans were immaculately creased, like he had gone out of his way to iron them this morning. He was dressed like someone Steve's dad used to work with, wearing the costume of a "normal person" on the weekends to seem like something besides a jumped-up office jockey.

What business man would be hanging outside someone else's house, harassing a little girl, though? As they drew closer, Steve woged, and looked the man directly in the eyes. The hollow, smiling face remained entirely human, and Steve answered it with a grim smile of his own.

Government, then. Motherfucker.

The man waved, not a trace of fear or shame in him. "Hey! Hell of an entrance, friend."

"You're not supposed to be here," Steve said, flashing bared teeth around the edges of his consonants.

"Son," the man said. The fakey small town charm had fallen out of his voice, leaving the kind of bored, assumed authority Steve only heard from onscreen cops or his own father. "This is an adult's situation, so why don't you and your friends--"

"No. You're not supposed to be here. Leave or I'm going to call the cops," Steve said, and hoped Hop was close enough to get here before Steve started swinging.

Despite the threat, the man only smiled, a hint of smugness on his face. He reached into his pocket and Steve tensed, hand nearest to Robin darting out to pull her by the belt loop more firmly behind him. He thought it might be a knife, or a gun or something, but instead the man only pulled out a badge-- From what Steve could tell, it was real, but there was nothing about it that gave away any information. Not that it would have mattered. Steve had met assholes like this last fall, when they had been trying to convince Joyce to let them do more tests on Will, and he, Nancy, and Jonathan had to cajole Mike and El into staying hidden in the other room instead of starting a fight.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Special Agent Ritter, and I'm with the American Government. I'm really going to have to ask you all to--"

Steve felt Robin and Eddie stiffen behind him. He knows they're thinking about the argument and his 'guys'-- He would be, too, if he didn't know any better. Steve knows that he hasn't exactly been the most anti-government member of their little 'Party'. Most days, it doesn't feel like it effects him very much, outside of keeping El safe. Sure, he doesn't trust them any more than the others do, and he's never been the President's biggest fan, but they all share a common enemy in the Mindflayer and the Upside Down. They're a necessary evil.

But added to everything else he knows, Steve can't stop thinking about those kids. Fifty of them, and who knows how many before Dustin had started looking. And now the government, outside of Erica's house? Erica, of all people? If the government was trying to fuck with Erica and maybe Lucas, then what would stop them from messing with the other kids? He knows they're not above it. He knows they took El and her siblings already. What were the chances of this not being a crazed Blutbad, barely tied to Wesen culture at all, and was just another government plot to turn them into a weapon?

Steve hoped he was wrong, but if he wasn't-- Well. He's never won a fight before, but he's never tried to kill anyone, either. It'll be interesting to see how that goes for him.

There is one bright, shining light if it is the government, though: A way to get Ritter away from his fucking kids.

"Great! That makes this all so much easier," Steve said brightly, clapping his hands together.

"Steve..." Eddie mumbled, but Steve steamrolled on.

"The house you're standing in front of belongs to the family of Lucas Sinclair. Do you know that name? I bet your boss does," Steve said, his grin widening. "You can go ask him, if you don't believe me. These kids are protected, sir, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave that little girl alone."

Ritter blinked, and for a moment, Steve was sure he had him. It was only a moment, though. Just a crack in that perfect mask. The smile was still on his face when he nodded, and then paused.

"You--"

The Sinclairs' front door was thrown open, the clatter cutting Ritter off. He and Steve looked up in sync, to the top of the short stairs, where Erica Sinclair stood, glaring down at them.

"Are y'all done yet?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "Tell him to get his weird ass out of my yard!"

"Erica!" Dustin threw himself out of the car, yelling the entire time he was picking himself up off the ground. "Erica, go back inside!"

"What? I'm not afraid of a nerdy ass cop! I know my rights!"

Dustin and Robin both sprinted towards Erica, who watched them come with a glare. Robin got there first, with a gentle hand on Erica's shoulder, but it was obvious she didn't want to push, and Erica wasn't going without a fight. Dustin was right behind her, huffing and puffing from his sprint across the yard, but Erica wiggled away from him, and pressed into Robin's side.

"If one more person touches me, I am going to scream."

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea," Robin muttered under her breathe, but she had never been a great whisperer.

"Oh, I don't think we need to get the neighbors involved in all this," Ritter said, that same eerie smile still plastered on his face. "There's no telling what would happen to such a little girl in the middle of a big ol' mess."

That was a threat, plain as day. One that set alarm bells off in Steve's head. As much as Ritter had wanted Erica, enough to risk being seen snatching her up in pure daylight, he didn't care if she made it out of this alive or dead. Steve didn't want to think about what that meant for the other missing kids-- Couldn't spare the brainpower it would take to process the grief. All he knew was that it meant it wasn't enough to just get Erica away from them; She had seen their faces. They all had. They were all in danger, which meant Steve wasn't going to turn his back on these men for a moment.

His gaze flickered to the van driver for just a moment, before going back to Ritter.

Eddie leaned into Steve's side, voice low in his ear. "He hasn't moved. He's just watching us."

Steve took a deep breath, letting himself settle with the knowledge that Eddie had his back, and Robin was still in-between Ritter and the kids. He wasn't expected to do this alone, for once, or chase after answers on his own.

The warmth of Eddie against him gave Steve the confidence to raise his chin, giving Ritter his smugest, most King-ly glare. "I'm serious, man. You don't know who you're messing with."

The smile dropped off Ritter's face for the first time. "If that's a threat--"

"No. I'm just trying to help. You keep messing with Lucas Sinclair's little sister, maybe she disappears in the middle of the night--" Steve shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him either way. "--things are going to be very bad at the office tomorrow. Really, call your boss. Ask him about Dr. Owens. We'll wait."

Ritter's eyes narrowed, but whatever he found in Steve's face had him sighing, and dropping his gaze. "Alright," he said. "Alright, I suppose it can't hurt to check. I'll be right back." Ritter walked, slowly, keeping his hands in Steve's view, out of the bushes. Steve kept his gaze glued to Ritter's back as he made his way across the bus, not moving a muscle even as the others milled around behind him.

Steve didn't buy that easy capitulation for a minute. It honestly had less to do with the man being a serial kidnapper and plain just because he was an adult-- Since when did adults ever believe what kids said without a reason? Besides, there was no way in hell that whoever sent him didn't know that Lucas lived here. There was no way that they had just been snatching random children from their home with no one knowing. Not when it was the fucking government. Steve's intention had only been to make it very clear that he knew what was going on, but he hadn't expected Ritter to fold. Or to pretend to, either.

As Ritter approached the van, Steve strained his hearing, hoping that whatever Reagan's boys knew about Hawkins and Wesen didn't go far enough to make them lower their voices.

"We have a problem?" The driver's voice was rougher than Ritter's, a low accented growl that Steve would have told you was the stuff of fiction, at least in Indiana.

Ritter looked back over his shoulder at Steve and the rest, shaking his head. "They're kids from the lab incident last year, apparently."

The driver hissed through his teeth. "Bad lack."

"No kidding. "Daddy's boy, there, told me to talk to Dr. Owens."

"Worse luck for them," the driver said with a laugh. "You think the Doc really would have gone to bat for them?"

"Probably. You know he always had a soft spot for the kid," Ritter said. Steve saw him shrug. "That's why they had to cut him loose."

The driver grunted in acknowledgement, and then after a beat of silence, continued. "We still taking the girl?"

"Yeah," Ritter said, like it had never been in question. "There's another little one, probably one of the freaks. We could take him, too, real easy."

"And the others?"

Ritter hummed, considering, and then said, "Too many of 'em, and they're old enough to put up a fight. I don't want a repeat of that bear asshole. It's quieter just to get rid of them now."

"Five kids is going to be pretty noticeable."

"Eh, it'll be alright. We've always got the city."

"That's true. We could keep going on runaways for the rest of the decade, if this winter is as cold as last year."

"And by next summer, no one will remember these kids," Ritter said, relishing every syllable.

There was another long moment of silence, and the driver asked, "It ever freak you out how fast they forget, in these towns?"

"Nah," Ritter said, "I get paid too much to think."

Then there was a sound, a sound that Steve only recognized from the months he had spent with Nancy. It was a sound he couldn't have even told you he was familiar with, a sound he had been fairly hopeful he might never hear again: It was the gentle, metallic click of a gun's safety being slid off. The thought barely even processed before his body reacted, sending him into the same spiral of violence a woged Wesen did-- The racing thoughts, the pulsing muscles, the doubled pulse.

For once, Steve did not want to hold back. For once, Steve wanted to hurt these men. He wanted to hurt them very badly.

He watched Ritter turn back to them with a smile, and knew what he had to do.

"I need you both to take the kids and run," Steve said.

All four voices raised in protest, but before they could even get a syllable out, Steve hissed a warning. Literally. Without even thinking about it, Steve hissed through his teeth, a sound more guttural than anything he could have intentionally made. All arguments fell into awkward, unfinished sounds in the air around him. Clumsily, without taking his eyes off Ritter slowly making his way back, Steve pressed the keys to the Bimmer into Eddie's palm.

For just a moment, Steve let himself indulge in the warm, dry slide of Eddie's fingers against his. It was all he could do. Might be all he ever had the chance to, now. He just wanted to know what it might be like, if Eddie held his hand.

Steve swallowed his own future and squared his shoulders, letting his hand fall away from Eddie's.

The driver got out of the van and fell into step with Ritter, trailing a little behind. They were both smiling in a way that left Steve unsettled, like baring their teeth at prey.

"No arguments," Steve said, keeping his voice low and even. His hands folded into fists at his sides. "There's not a lot of time left, and things are about to go very badly. I need you all to follow my lead."

There wasn't a peep from the others as Ritter got within hearing distance. Steve knew they wanted to fight back, knew they wanted to tell him where he could shove his plan, but none of them flinched for a second. Pride filled Steve as silence overtook the little yard-- Even Erica, the sole human among them, was silent and unmoving in the face of danger. He only hoped he would make it out of this alive so he could tell her how good she was doing.

"Steve Harrington, right?" Ritter said. Steve tried not to flinch at the sudden confrontation with his last name. Honestly, it didn't matter one way or another; Steve was either going to die here or he wouldn't, and no amount of anonymity was going to get him out of it. But it unsettled him to know that his name was important enough to someone for this man to remember it. Somewhere, in all those big files about El and Will and who knew what else, was Steve's name. Not just 'Nancy's boyfriend', or 'Dustin's babysitter', but him.

And that meant that someone had decided he wasn't worth keeping alive.

"... Right."

Before the confirmation could even leave Steve's mouth properly, his eyes flicked down to the driver's hand, hidden in his jacket. There was a twitch, a movement, something-- Steve would haved liked to say it was like something out of an action movie, time and space shifting liquid around him, but it wasn't anything that controlled. For all his strengths, Steve hadn't become a fighter overnight. Instead, Steve found himself out of control for the second time, his body reacting entirely on its own.

With Eddie, Steve had held himself back. He hadn't been there to hurt Eddie, and wasn't looking forward to a fight, so he'd locked the instincts down as quickly as he did with El or Robin. This time, though, there was nothing to stop-- For once, Steve and his instincts were in total agreement.

Before the gun even cleared the jacket's lapel, Steve threw himself at the man. The guy had a few inches and probably a few dozen pounds on him, but he wasn't trying for a full tackle. Steve's only goal at the moment was to put as much of himself in between the gun and the kids.

The man grunted as Steve's weight hit him, stumbling back from the momentum, but his feet dug into the dirt and held firm. Steve's lungs wheezed as he crumpled against the man's chest, like a car running into a brick wall. He could feel the barrel of the gun digging into his side as the driver struggled to push him off-- Steve grabbed at the man's wrist, already feeling the man's tendons beginning to tense under his fingers.

It was only the fear that gave Steve the strength to push the gunman's hand down before the bullet fired.

Steve gasped, the sound overwhelming him more than the pain. He felt it hit, sure, like being frogged in the thigh by a particularly enthusiastic upperclassmen, but nothing like he would have thought it would be. Of all the beatings Steve had taken in the last few years, this didn't even clear the top two. Hell, he would rather get shot again then chance a bite with a demodog.

If only his fucking leg would listen to him.

He kept trying to push forward, tried to dig his heels in and make this son of a bitch move, get him one step further from his kids, but his leg refused to listen. It just went cold, sluggishly bleeding, mocking him with little thumps of pain that meant absolutely nothing to his frenzied brain.

It was then that Steve realised he was falling.

Well, he thought, as his good leg started to collapse-- Might as well make the most of it.

Holding tight to the man, Steve flung himself onto the Sinclair's driveway. The man came tumbling down after him, dragged down by Steve's sudden dead weight-- And Steve was already rolling before they hit the ground, trying to pin the driver underneath him. It wouldn't last very long, if he could even manage it, but it would be enough to give the kids time to run.

The driver's neck strained as he glared at Steve, trying desperately to get some leverage by keeping himself off the ground. "Jumped up little shit," the driver muttered.

The only answer Steve could give was a feral growl in the back of his throat, then reaching up to slam the man's head back into the gravel. Blow after blow was landing on Steve's ribs, enough force behind each punch to give Billy Hargrove a run for his money. His fingernails were beginning to tear and bleed from how hard Steve was hanging on. Neither of them were winning, and neither of them were willing to give up.

Sometime in the last year, Steve thought as he struggled, he really should have learned how to fight. A real fight, not tips and tricks from his ancestors in a dusty notebook, or the regulated self-defense classes at the YMCA. A real fight, with someone who wanted to kill you. Hopper could have taught him, probably-- If Steve made it out of this, he was absolutely going to dedicate the rest of his life to learning.

Out of options, Steve latched onto the driver's shoulder. "Ow, you fucking Wesen freaks--"

From behind him, Ritter said, "Fuck, James, hold on."

Robin was faster. Steve could make it out from the corner of his vision, although he couldn't afford to watch too closely-- She was woged, all teeth and fangs and glowing eyes. She was clumsier than Steve, but not by much, and she launched herself at Ritter with a rage that even Nancy would have balked at.

Blood spattered next to Steve on the grass, the smell filling the air.

Distantly, Steve could hear Eddie and the children. Erica and Dustin were yelling at the top of their lungs, Eddie was cursing under his breath, and the Bimmer doors were slamming open and shut. When he heard the familiar rumble of his ignition, Steve felt himself go lax with relief.

He couldn't do this forever. He was cold. So fucking cold, all over his body, and though his leg still didn't hurt, Steve knew enough to know that it wasn't exactly a good sign. Now that the kids and Eddie were safe, the adrenaline wasn't enough to keep him moving. He was tired, and fading fast. Steve wished Robin had gone with Eddie and the kids, wished that she wasn't resigned to the same uncertain future that he was, but he had to stop fighting.

The driver pushed him off, and Steve fell into the grass limply, his ribs protesting as he rolled. He tried to get to his feet, tried to at least be enough of a distraction to let Robin make a run for it-- The pressure on his left leg was enough to make the pain known, the burn of the wound through his leg sending bile up his throat. He collapsed, vomiting into the Sinclairs' manicured lawn.

When Steve looked back up, vision blurry with tears, the driver had his gun to Robin's head.

"Stay down, or I will put her down."

Steve raised his hands, palms open, in supplication.

Grabbing Robin by her hair, the driver pulled her away from Ritter, her claw pulling out of his shoulder with a sickening spurt of blood. "You gonna behave now?" he asked her.

Eyes wide, Robin nodded.

"Good," the driver said. "Then--"

Ritter backhanded Robin across the face hard, sending her stumbling into the driver's chest. Steve whimpered, trying to peel himself off the grass, but there was no use. The burning in his leg had started to spread, and he could feel his own blood warming the ground beneath him.

"Lionel!" the driver snapped.

"The fucking bitch took off half of my shoulder!" Ritter hissed, all former pretense of respectability gone from his voice. Even his accent had changed, from the broad, transatlantic relatability of a government stooge to the rough vocal fry of the West. "Fuck, that hurts."

Robin tried to sneer, but her animal eyes were blown and shifty, like a hunted rabbit. She wasn't meant for this; Steve had known for years now that this would probably be how he died, even before being a Grimm had all but confirmed it for him, but he hadn't ever meant for anyone to come with him.

"Just let her go, man," Steve gasped, trying to sound reasonable through clenched teeth.

Ritter squatted, baring his teeth at Steve in a mockery of a Wesen's posturing. "You're not really in a position to start making demands, Harrington." He wasn't wrong, but Steve wasn't about to let that stop him. If anyone knew how to find leverage in a desperate situation, it was Steve.

"And you're not really in a position to be wasting any time." Steve forced himself to stop trembling, pushing the shock and his sluggish heartbeat to the back of his mind. He met Ritter's eyes, pushing his woge until he was sure Ritter could the smoky, echoing haze of his eyes as clearly as the Wesen could. It might not scare him without a woge of his own to trigger, but Steve was willing to bet it would unsettle Ritter enough to make him listen. "Gunshots in a town like Hawkins, middle of the day? Our friends are already gone, and it won't be long until they find help. How long do you think it will take the cops to show up?"

"Not long enough to hide the bodies, that's for sure," Robin jumped in.

Ritter looked up at the driver, a moment passing as their eyes met in silent conversation. After a beat, the driver nodded.

"Get him in the van," the driver said, shoving Robin towards the road.

Steve stared up at Ritter, watching him pull what looked like a large, archaic flashlight out of his back pocket. It took a moment, but Steve had spent enough time dicking around in Hop's office this spring to recognize it for what it was: One of those fancy stun guns, like the cops they used in the big cities. Hopper hated them, said that there was no one in Hawkins who deserved to get electrocuted that didn't also deserve to get shot, but Steve had thought they were pretty nifty.

He guessed he was about to find out.

Letting his head fall back into the dirt, Steve sighed. "Make it quick, asshole."

There was a snap, then a light tug in his side, and the world was on fire until it kindly faded into black.

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