Do you start the fight or take the flight?
SHRAPNEL BOULEVARD: Chapter Nine
Steve Harrington x Hargrove OC / Wordcount: 9.3k ➞ (series) Masterlist
Summary: Plans are made. Hearts are broken. Steve Harrington gets into a fistfight with Billy Hargrove because apparently that's on this week's to-do list. Max finally stops being afraid, Darcy accidentally becomes everyone's babysitter, and nobody has a single good idea, but they're going with one anyway. Mike is a little shit. Max is awesome. Dustin needs to stop talking. Poor lucas.
Note: right.. okay. If anyone didn't know, I changed the name of this fic from 'let the good times roll' to 'shrapnel Blvd.' because the old name was kind of poopoo caca. sorry for any confusion. Also, idk if making her drink is a weird choice (lmk!) but I wanted max to still be the one to drive the car because that scene rocks.
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The house felt different by the time everyone found themselves back in the same room.
The relief that had accompanied Eleven's return had burned itself out almost as quickly as it had arrived. It lingered only in brief glances and trembling breaths before reality reclaimed the space with ruthless efficiency. There wasn't time to celebrate miracles. Not when another impossible decision was already waiting for them.
Maps lay scattered across the living room floor, weighed down with mugs, flashlights and anything heavy enough to stop the curling corners from folding back over themselves. Hopper crouched over them, one broad hand braced against the floorboards while the other traced routes through Hawkins with growing frustration.
"..And that's even if we get in there," he muttered. "That lab is crawling with those dogs–"
"Demodogs," Dustin corrected automatically.
Hopper paused.
"...What?"
"Demodogs." Dustin gestured as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Demogorgon dogs. Demodogs."
Hopper stared at him for a long second.
"...How is that important right now?"
Dustin opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then, with visible reluctance, gave a tiny nod.
"...It's not."
"No," Hopper agreed flatly. "It's really not."
The conversation collapsed back into silence.
Not the comfortable kind. The air itself seemed exhausted. Every person in the room looked as though they were running on whatever came after empty.
Darcy folded her arms tighter across herself. She could still remember how it had felt only minutes earlier, watching Mike throw himself at Eleven as though she might disappear if he didn't hold on tightly enough.
Now they were discussing military laboratories, monsters, and the logistics of surviving long enough to reach an interdimensional gate.
It was almost frightening how quickly hope had become another item on the checklist.
"I can do it."
Every head turned. Eleven hadn't raised her voice. She didn't need to.
She stood quietly beside the fireplace, her expression unreadable, dark eyes fixed on Hopper.
"I can close the Gate."
Hopper's response came almost instantly.
"You're not hearing me–"
"I'm hearing you." Her voice carried none of the uncertainty Darcy had expected.
Not the quiet, hesitant girl who'd walked through the front door with blood beneath her nose. Not someone asking permission. Someone who had already made up her mind.
"I can do it."
The room fell still. Darcy found herself studying her properly for the first time.
Everyone else looked at Eleven with familiarity, with relief, with love, with memories stretching back long before Darcy had ever arrived in Hawkins.
Darcy saw something different.
She saw a girl who was no older than her sister carrying the weight of the entire town across her shoulders.
Nobody had asked her if she wanted that responsibility.
She had simply accepted it. Before Hopper could answer, Mike stepped forward.
"Even if El can..." He stopped.
Darcy didn't need him to finish. Something in his face warned them all before the words ever left his mouth.
"There's another problem." His gaze drifted toward the floor. "If the brain dies..."
Nobody interrupted.
"The body dies."
Max frowned. "I thought that was the whole point."
"It is." Mike swallowed hard. "But... if we're right..."
He looked around the room, almost as though he hoped someone else would say it instead.
"If closing the Gate kills the Mind Flayer's army..."
Lucas's expression shifted. Darcy watched understanding settle across his face with painful slowness.
"...Will."
Mike nodded once. "Will's part of that army."
The words seemed to catch in his throat. "If El closes the Gate..."
He drew a slow breath.
"It'll kill him."
Nobody moved.
The silence that followed felt almost physical, pressing against Darcy's chest until it became difficult to breathe.
She looked around the room.
Mike. Lucas. Max. Dustin. Children. Every single one of them.
Yet somehow they were being asked to decide whether one twelve-year-old boy should die so that everyone else might live.
The thought made her stomach twist. This wasn't supposed to happen. Kids weren't supposed to have conversations like this.
They were supposed to argue over homework and curfews and who got the last slice of pizza.
Instead they were discussing whether saving the world meant sacrificing their friend.
Across the room, Steve shifted beside her. His shoulder brushed hers so lightly she almost wondered if she'd imagined it.
When she glanced sideways, she found him already looking at the floor.
His jaw was tight. Neither of them spoke. There wasn't anything either of them could possibly say.
Joyce hadn't moved.
While everyone else wrestled with impossible choices, she simply stood beside Will's bed, staring at him.
Not through him. At him. Darcy watched something change behind her eyes.
Slowly, Joyce crossed the room. She walked past Will. Past the chair. Past the bedside table. Until she reached the open window.
Cold November air drifted lazily through the curtains, lifting the thin fabric just enough to make it sway.
"He likes it cold."
Nobody answered.
Hopper frowned. "...What?"
Joyce didn't look away from the window.
"He likes it cold."
Her voice was quiet.
"Will told me that."
She reached forward. The window slammed shut with a sharp crack. The curtains fell still.
"And we just keep giving it what it wants."
Darcy felt the room lean toward her. Nancy was the first to understand.
"If this is like... a virus..." She stepped closer. "And Will's the host..."
"We make the host uninhabitable," Jonathan finished.
Joyce finally turned back toward them. She looked exhausted. Like she'd cried until there were no tears left. But beneath the grief sat something harder.
"We burn it out of him."
The words settled heavily over the room. Nobody liked them. Darcy certainly didn't.
Because suddenly Will wasn't just possessed anymore. He was going to have to suffer for them to save him. Maybe there had never been another choice.
It didn't make hearing it any easier.
"We'd have to do it somewhere it doesn't know about," Mike murmured.
"Somewhere far away," Dustin added.
Darcy watched Hopper's expression change.
Recognition. A memory surfacing. Everyone else saw it too.
Within seconds the room dissolved back into motion.
Hopper lifted Will carefully into his arms.
Joyce followed. Jonathan close behind. The plan had found them. Now all they could do was hope it worked.
The Blazer idled at the edge of the driveway, its headlights spilling pale yellow light across the damp grass.
Darcy drifted out onto the back porch before she really knew why.
Maybe she wanted air. Maybe she wanted a cigarette. Maybe she simply needed five minutes away from the suffocating weight of the house.
She leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, fishing the crumpled packet from her jacket pocket before pausing.
Steve and Nancy stood beside the shed, half-hidden amongst piles of forgotten junk. Rusted garden tools. Paint tins. Broken flowerpots. They were pulling things apart with quiet urgency, searching for anything that might help.
Darcy should have looked away.
She didn't.
Steve disappeared behind an old shelving unit before reappearing with two battered space heaters buried beneath years of dust. He brushed cobwebs from one of them absently, staring down at it for a long moment as though gathering the courage to say something.
When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet Darcy almost missed it.
"You should go with him."
Nancy stopped searching. "What?"
"Jonathan."
He didn't look at her straight away. His eyes stayed fixed on the heater in his hands.
"You should go."
For a second, Nancy simply stared. Then she shook her head.
"No."
She bent back down, pretending to search through another box.
"I'm not leaving Mike."
"No one's leaving anyone." Steve answered so quickly it was obvious he'd already rehearsed the sentence in his head. "I'll stay."
Nancy looked back at him.
"I may have been a shitty boyfriend..."
A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. It didn't quite reach his eyes.
"But it turns out I'm a pretty damn good babysitter."
He held one of the heaters out towards her. Nancy reached for it. Their fingers brushed. Neither of them let go. Not immediately. Darcy looked away before she realised she was staring.
The moment didn't feel private because they were hiding anything. It felt private because it wasn't really about the heater.
It was about everything they weren't saying.
She'd only known Steve for a matter of weeks. Weeks weren't long enough to know someone.
Not really. But they'd been enough. Enough to see him stumble home drunk after Tina's party. Enough to hear the cracks in his voice whenever Nancy's name found its way into conversation.
Enough to notice the way he still looked for her before he looked for anyone else whenever something happened.
She'd never asked him about it. She'd never needed to. Some things announced themselves without words.
Steve finally loosened his grip. Nancy took the heater from him, hugging its weight against her chest.
He smiled again. This one was softer. Sadder.
"It's okay, Nance."
Nancy blinked.
Steve gave the smallest shrug. "It's okay."
Darcy felt something twist quietly beneath her ribs. Because he didn't mean it was okay. Nothing about this was okay.
The monsters weren't okay. The Gate wasn't okay. Standing in a freezing garden deciding who might die tonight wasn't okay.
He was giving her permission to leave anyway. Not because he'd stopped loving her. Because he loved her enough to put what she needed before what he wanted.
Darcy wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything lonelier.
Steve cleared his throat, hefted the second heater beneath one arm, then turned before Nancy had the chance to answer.
As he walked back towards the house, he caught sight of Darcy standing in the doorway.
For half a heartbeat, embarrassment flickered across his face. Like he'd only just realised someone else had witnessed the conversation.
"You hear all that?" he asked quietly.
Darcy lowered the unopened cigarette she'd forgotten she was holding. "...Only enough."
Steve let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
"Great."
She stepped aside to let him pass.
As he drew level with her, she reached out without thinking and brushed a fleck of cobweb from the shoulder of his jacket.
He looked down at it. Then back at her. "...Thanks."
"It suits you," she said lightly. "Very breakup chic."
That earned the faintest smile. Barely there. But real.
"I'm starting trends."
"Yeah yeah, alright, King Steve."
He snorted softly before disappearing back inside. Darcy watched him go. She wasn't sure whether the exchange had made him feel any better.
It had made her feel worse.
Because for the first time, she'd realised Steve Harrington wasn't pretending everything was fine. He simply kept choosing everyone else before himself.
Across the driveway, Mike and Eleven still hadn't moved. They stood close enough that neither of them seemed capable of letting the other go.
"Just..." Mike's voice cracked. "Be careful."
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her again. Not quickly. Desperately.
"I just..." His grip tightened. "I can't lose you."
Darcy looked away instinctively.
"Not again." Silence settled between them. One tear escaped before Mike could stop it. Eleven lifted a hand and brushed it away with her thumb so gently it almost didn't look real.
"You won't." Her voice barely carried across the garden. "You won't lose me."
Mike searched her face with the helpless expression of someone trying to memorise every detail. "...Promise?"
She nodded. "I promise."
A tiny smile appeared. "Friends don't lie."
For one impossibly fragile moment, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. No monsters. No tunnels. No impossible choices. Just two kids clinging to each other in the cold November air, trying to pretend promises still meant something.
"El."
Hopper's voice carried from the driveway.
The spell broke. Eleven stepped back. She looked at Mike one final time before turning towards the waiting Blazer.
Neither of them said goodbye. Darcy thought maybe they couldn't bear to.
…
Everyone's attention followed Dustin's gaze. Down. To the kitchen floor.
The dead creature lay wrapped in a blood-stained blanket, one grey claw protruding from the folds of fabric like something that refused to stay hidden.
For a long moment, nobody spoke. Steve blinked at it, then slowly looked back at Dustin.
"...Is this really necessary?"
Darcy leaned against the kitchen counter, fingers curled around her third beer of the night. The bottle was cold enough to sting her palm, condensation soaking into her sleeve.
She wasn't usually much of a drinker.
But after surviving monsters, watching children volunteer to save the world, and saying goodbye to people who might never come back, she figured she'd earned it.
Dustin looked thoroughly offended. "This is a significant scientific discovery."
He grabbed the creature by its back legs with all the confidence of someone who had absolutely no business handling an interdimensional corpse.
"You can't just bury it like some common mammal."
Steve sighed through his nose. "Okay."
He stepped over without another complaint, crouching to grab the other end of the blanket. "But you're explaining this to Mrs. Byers."
Together, they heaved. The thing barely moved. Steve's face immediately twisted in disgust. "Oh my God."
"Lift with your legs," Dustin grunted.
"I'm trying not to throw up."
Despite everything, Darcy felt the corner of her mouth twitch. It was ridiculous. The world was ending, and Steve Harrington was arguing with a thirteen-year-old over the proper storage of a dead monster.
They eventually managed to wrestle the creature toward the open refrigerator, Steve muttering complaints the entire way while Dustin ignored every single one of them.
Darcy took another sip, letting the familiar burn settle in her chest.
The fluorescent light spilling from the open fridge painted everyone in a sickly blue-white glow, washing the colour from their faces and making the whole kitchen feel strangely clinical.
Like they were already inside the lab.
Her smile faded. Her eyes wandered into the living room.
Mike was pacing. Back and forth. Like stopping would mean thinking. Like thinking would mean imagining what Eleven was walking into.
"Mike..." Lucas glanced up from where he was sweeping shattered glass into a dustpan. "Would you please stop?"
Mike didn't even acknowledge him.
"You’re making me nervous."
Mike spun around so fast it almost looked painful. "You weren't there, okay, Lucas?"
His voice cracked around the edges. His eyes were bloodshot, frantic. "That lab is crawling with hundreds of those dogs–"
"Demodogs!" Dustin shouted automatically from the kitchen.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Darcy scoffed into her beer. The room looked at Dustin.
Dustin looked back. "...Sorry."
Lucas exhaled slowly. "The Chief will take care of her."
"Like she needs protecting," Max muttered from the couch.
The words hung in the air. Steve closed the refrigerator a little harder than necessary. The heavy slam echoed through the house, silencing everyone.
He wiped his hands against his jeans before walking back into the living room.
"Dude, listen."
Mike looked at him, already defensive.
"If a coach calls a play during a game..." Steve gestured toward the maps spread across the floor. "...bottom line, you execute it."
Mike frowned immediately. "First of all, this isn't some stupid sports game."
He motioned around the house. "And second, we're not even in the game."
His laugh was hollow. "We're benched."
Steve opened his mouth. Stopped. His shoulders sagged. "...Right."
For just a second, Darcy caught it. The exhaustion. The way he'd almost argued before realising Mike was right. They were benched. And Steve hated it just as much as everyone else.
"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...yeah."
His voice was quieter now. "There's nothing we can do."
Darcy watched him for a moment. A few weeks ago, she'd thought Steve Harrington was exactly what everyone at school said he was. The popular idiot with perfect hair and too much confidence.
She'd never been more wrong. He kept stepping in front of danger without anyone asking him to. Kept trying to hold terrified kids together while barely holding himself together.
He didn't have a plan. He was just trying.
"Well..." Dustin appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Everyone looked over.
"That's not entirely true."
Darcy watched Steve close his eyes for half a second. Just half a second. As if he already knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next.
Dustin dropped into a crouch beside the maps. "The Demodogs have a hive mind."
He pointed at the tunnels. "They left the bus because they were called away."
Tap.
"They weren't hunting."
Another tap.
"They were being summoned."
Lucas leaned forward. "So... if we got their attention..."
"Maybe we could draw them away from the lab," Max finished.
Mike was already kneeling beside the maps. "And clear a path to the Gate!"
"Exactly!"
Steve stared at the four of them. Then looked at Darcy. She lifted her beer a fraction, giving him an apologetic little shrug that said, Don't look at me. I'm with you.
His mouth almost twitched. Then he looked back at the kids.
"So..." A long sigh escaped him. " thats how we all die."
Dustin shrugged. "Well... that's one way to look at it."
"No." Steve stepped forward immediately.
"That isn't one way to look at it." He pointed straight at Dustin. "That's a fact."
Mike ignored him completely.
"This is where the Chief dug his hole." His finger traced a route across the map. "This gets us into the tunnels."
Everyone crowded closer. Darcy drifted over too, beer still in hand.
Mike tapped another point.
"And here." His finger circled the centre of the map. "This is like... a hub."
He glanced around.
"Every tunnel connects here."
His eyes lit with the dangerous excitement that always came just before one of the boys did something spectacularly reckless.
"So if we set this on fire–"
"Okay!" Steve threw a hand into the air before Mike could finish. "No."
"No. He looked around at every single one of them. “Absolutely not."
"--the Mind Flayer would call away his army," Dustin continued.
"They'd all come to stop us," Lucas said, leaning over the map.
"And we'd circle back to the exit here." Mike's finger darted across the paper. "By the time they realise what happened–"
"El will already be at the Gate," Max finished.
The four of them looked between each other, the plan taking shape faster with every sentence. Steve looked like he was watching a train wreck happen in slow motion.
"Guys..."
Nobody heard him. Mike was already pointing out routes. Dustin was adding details. Lucas was nodding along.
"Guys."
Still nothing. Steve shoved his way into the middle of the circle.
"HEY!"
The room finally fell silent. Everyone looked up. Steve stood over the map, one hand still raised, breathing harder than he should have been.
Darcy watched him carefully.
A month ago, she'd have laughed if someone told her Steve Harrington would end up playing babysitter to half the town.
Now she couldn't imagine anyone else doing it.
The expensive clothes were gone. The cocky grin barely existed anymore. His hair wasn't even perfect tonight, flattened from sweat and constantly running his hands through it.
He just looked tired. The kind that settled behind your eyes after too many impossible decisions. The kind that came from carrying responsibilities nobody had asked you to carry.
"This..." Steve pointed emphatically at the map. "This is not happening."
"But—"
"No."
Mike stopped immediately. Steve took another step forward.
"No buts." His voice wasn't angry. It was scared.
"I promised to keep you little shitheads safe." His eyes swept across each of them before settling on Max, then Lucas, then Dustin. "And that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
For just a second, his gaze flickered to Darcy. A silent check.
You with me?
She gave the smallest nod. Of course she was.
"We're staying here." Steve tapped the wooden floor with his shoe. "We're on the bench."
He forced a smile that never quite reached his eyes. "And we're letting the starting team do their job."
Nobody answered. Mike looked unconvinced. Lucas looked frustrated. Dustin looked like he was already calculating three alternative plans. Even Max's jaw had tightened. Darcy almost smiled despite herself. Steve looked strangely...
Maternal.
The tea towel still hanging over one shoulder certainly wasn't helping.
"This isn't a sports game," Mike muttered.
Steve pretended not to hear him. His voice rose another notch. "Does everyone understand?"
Still silence.
"I need an actual yes."
Before anyone could answer, a sound rolled across the house. Low. Deep. The unmistakable growl of a powerful engine.
Every conversation died instantly. Darcy's stomach dropped before her brain caught up. She knew that sound. The dark blue Camaro.
Max was already moving. She reached the front window in three hurried steps, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peek through.
Then she froze. "...It's my brother."
The words barely escaped her mouth. Lucas looked over.
"What?"
Then he saw Max's face. Every trace of colour had vanished.
"He can't know I'm here." She stumbled backwards from the window as though Billy could somehow see through the glass.
"He can't."
Her breathing became sharp. Uneven.
"He'll kill me."
Nobody spoke. Max wrapped her arms around herself.
"He'll kill all of us."
Darcy didn't think. She simply moved. Her beer hit the counter with a dull clunk as she crossed the room. She caught Max by both shoulders before panic could pull her completely under.
"Max."
The girl's eyes weren't really seeing her. "They're here–"
"Max." Darcy's grip tightened just enough to ground her.
"Look at me."
Nothing. Max kept staring somewhere over her shoulder, breathing faster with every passing second. Darcy softened immediately.
"Hey." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Come on."
Painfully slowly, Max's eyes found hers. There you are.
"That's it." Darcy kept her hands steady. "You're here."
She held Max's gaze.
"You're with us." She could feel the tremble running through the younger girl's shoulders.
Darcy knew that look. Not because she'd lived Max's life. Because she'd seen Billy.
She'd watched entire rooms tense the second he walked through a door. Watched people instinctively make space for him. Watched rage arrive five seconds before he did.
Neil Hargrove had spent years teaching his son that fear was power. Billy had learned the lesson too well.
"Listen to me," Darcy said gently.
"He's probably looking for us." She hesitated. "...Or for you. I told him I was at Tessa's."
Darcy's heart squeezed. That wasn't the reassurance she hoped to provide. She rubbed slow circles over Max's shoulders.
"We're going to figure this out." She tried to sound calmer than she felt. Because her own pulse had started hammering the moment she'd heard that engine.
Even though the alcohol in her system made everything feel slightly unreal. Like she was watching the scene happen from somewhere outside herself.
But the fear in Max’s eyes didn’t disappear. Not completely. Because some things couldn’t be reassured away. Some fears lived too deep.
Steve stepped closer. His expression had changed. He stared through the window at the headlights cutting through the darkness outside.
“I’m gonna go out.” His voice was quiet. That protective tone. The one that meant he had already made the decision before anyone else could argue.
He glanced toward the kids. Then his eyes landed on Darcy.
“Stay away from the windows, okay?”
Darcy shook her head. “I can go talk to him, it's fine.”
A beat.
“He doesn’t have to know you’re here if we can help it.”
Darcy nodded. Her throat tightened. “Okay.”
Steve looked toward the door. Then back at her. A silent understanding passed between them.
Keep them safe.
Darcy turned immediately. “Get in the back.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. But there was no room for argument. She gently pushed Max, Lucas, and Dustin toward the dark hallway.
“Go.” Another glance toward the window. “Move.”
The kids hesitated. Only for a second. Because they could see it too. Something had changed. Darcy wasn’t just the girl who had shown up halfway through the nightmare.
She wasn’t watching anymore. She was in it. She stayed planted where she was. Between them and the front of the house.“I’ll stay right here.”
And for the first time that night, Darcy realised something.
She wasn’t waiting for someone else to protect her. She wasn’t standing behind the people who knew this world better than she did.
In the driveway, Californian brake lights dazzle. Of course, because they were children, they refused to listen.
The second Steve stepped off the porch, all five of them drifted back toward the front windows like moths to a flame.
"Seriously?" Darcy hissed.
Nobody even looked at her. She sighed, following them despite herself.
Through the mud-smeared glass, Steve crossed the front yard with slow, deliberate steps. His shoulders were pulled back, his spine impossibly straight. He looked taller somehow. Broader.
Like he was trying to make himself into something Billy Hargrove might think twice about.
The Camaro's driver's door swung open. Billy climbed out, cigarette already hanging from the corner of his mouth. He didn't hurry.
He never hurried.
He took one long drag before flicking the door shut with his hip, his eyes never leaving Steve. The two of them met halfway up the driveway. Neither willing to give the other another inch.
Darcy let out a quiet groan. "Oh my God..."
Five sets of eyes stayed glued to the window.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Guys."
Nothing.
"Guys, get the hell away from the windows."
Still nothing. "What did Steve literally just say?"
Mike rolled his eyes with all the exaggerated annoyance only a thirteen-year-old could manage. "You guys aren't our parents."
Darcy stared at him. For one brief, alcohol-fuelled moment, she seriously considered smacking him upside the head.
Instead she took a long, slow breath.
"Mike..." Her smile was painfully sweet. "If Billy doesn't kill you tonight, I might."
Lucas snorted. Mike looked entirely unbothered.
Outside, Steve folded his arms across his chest. Billy laughed. Even through the walls, Darcy could hear the sound. Low. Mocking. Every instinct in her body tightened.
This wasn't going to end with talking. She could hear Steve saying something. Billy answered around another drag of his cigarette, his voice too muffled to make out.
Darcy found herself holding her breath. Come on, Steve… Just walk away.
Dustin sucked in a sharp breath.
"Oh, crap."
Every head snapped toward him.
"I think he saw us."
"Shit." Darcy didn't waste another second. "Okay. Everybody, move."
Nobody argued this time. She ushered them away from the windows with quick, urgent gestures, one hand pressed against Dustin's shoulder as she steered him toward the kitchen.
"Come on. Come on."
The voices outside rose suddenly. Louder. Sharper. A heavy thud. Something – Someone– Hit the ground. Darcy's stomach dropped so fast it made her feel sick.
Please don't be Steve.
She already knew it was. The front door exploded inward. Everyone jumped.
Billy strode into the house like he owned it, bringing the cold night air in with him.
The door slammed behind him hard enough to rattle the picture frames. Silence swallowed the room. Billy's gaze drifted lazily across the kitchen. One face. Then another. Until it settled on Max.
Then Lucas.
"Well..." His voice was almost conversational. "Well, well, well."
Each footstep echoed through the house. Heavy. Unhurried. Predatory.
"Lucas Sinclair." A grin spread slowly across his face. "What a surprise."
His eyes slid to Max. "I thought I told you to stay away from him."
Max's chin lifted despite the way her hands trembled at her sides.
"Billy." Her voice was barely steady. "Go away."
His smile disappeared.
"You disobeyed me." Another step. "And you know what happens when you disobey me."
Something cold flashed behind his eyes. Not anger. Enjoyment.
"I break things."
Before anyone could move, Billy lunged. He caught Lucas by the front of his jacket and slammed him backwards into the cabinets. The impact shook the entire kitchen. Ceramic bowls crashed to the floor. Glass exploded across the tiles.
The room erupted.
"Billy!"
"Stop!"
"Get off him!"
The voices tangled together until Darcy couldn't tell who was shouting what. The younger kids surged forward on instinct despite everything she'd just done to keep them back.
"No!"
She threw an arm out, catching Dustin before he could barrel straight into Billy.Mike and Max were already yelling over each other. Lucas gasped for air as Billy shoved him harder against the cupboards.
Billy leaned in close enough that only Lucas could hear whatever he whispered. Darcy couldn't make out the words. She wasn't sure she wanted to. For one frozen second, Billy hadn't noticed her.
She simply stood there, watching him.
Watching years of whispered rumours become something horrifyingly real. She'd heard stories. Heard slammed doors. Raised voices. The dull thud of fists through bedroom walls.
But stories had never prepared her for this.For the hatred radiating off him. For the way violence seemed to come as naturally as breathing. For the awful realization that Billy wasn't losing control. He was completely in it.
And somehow, That was even more frightening. Her voice cut cleanly through the shouting.
"William, what the fuck?"
Billy's head snapped toward her. For the first time since he'd barged into the house, his attention shifted away from Lucas.
His brows shot up.
"...Darce?" Confusion flickered across his face. "The fuck are you doing here?"
Lucas didn't waste the opportunity. His knee drove upward as hard as he could. Billy folded instantly with a strangled grunt, his grip disappearing from Lucas's jacket as both hands instinctively dropped to protect himself.
Lucas stumbled backwards, coughing.
Billy straightened slowly. Too slowly. His chest rose and fell in sharp, furious breaths. His nostrils flared. Every muscle in his body tightened. When he looked back at Lucas, there was nothing left behind his eyes except violence.
"You are so dead, Sinclair."
Darcy's pulse hammered. She'd seen Billy angry before. She'd heard him screaming through paper-thin walls. She'd seen bruises nobody talked about. But she'd never seen him like this.
This wasn't anger anymore. This was someone who had stopped thinking.
Before she could move, Someone shoved through the crowd. Hard enough to knock Dustin sideways.
Steve.
He planted himself between Billy and Lucas without hesitation. His chest rose heavily. Blood still trickled through his jeans from the scrape on his knees.
"No." His voice was low. "You are."
Billy barely had time to turn. Steve's fist crashed into his jaw. The crack echoed through the kitchen. Steve hissed through clenched teeth the second it landed.
God, that had to hurt.
Billy staggered backwards, genuinely stunned. For half a second, Nobody moved.
Dustin's face lit up. "YES!"
Max simply stared. Darcy didn't. She was already dragging Lucas behind her, pushing him back toward the others.
"Stay behind me." Lucas didn't argue.
Billy wiped blood from beneath his nose with the back of his hand. He looked down at the smear of red. Then back at Steve.
Slowly, the fucker smiled. Darcy's stomach dropped. Not because he looked hurt. Because he looked entertained.
"You've got some fire in you after all." Billy laughed quietly. "I've been waiting to meet this 'King Steve' everyone keeps telling me so much about."
Steve pushed sweaty hair back from his forehead with his bleeding hand. His breathing was already uneven.
"Get." He shoved Billy backwards. "Out."
Billy laughed again. Louder this time. Then he swung. Fast. Violent. Steve ducked beneath it by inches. His own punch landed square across Billy's cheek.
Dustin was practically bouncing. "Kick his ass, Steve!"
For one impossible moment, It actually looked like Steve might win. He kept forcing Billy backwards, driving him across the kitchen toward the sink with punch after punch.
Darcy couldn't believe it. Neither could Billy.
Then Billy's hand found a ceramic plate. Her heart skipped a beat or two. "No–"
Too late. The plate exploded across the side of Steve's head. The crack was sickening. Porcelain shattered across the kitchen in a spray of white fragments.
Steve stumbled. His hand flew to his temple. When he pulled it away, tt came back red.
"Steve!" Dustin's excitement vanished instantly.
Max screamed. "BILLY, STOP!"
Billy didn't. He kept coming. Driving Steve backwards through the doorway into the living room.
Furniture scraped. Picture frames crashed. Everyone scattered out of their path.
Billy grabbed Steve by the front of his jacket.
"No one..." He slammed Steve backwards. "...tells me what to do."
His forehead smashed into Steve's. Steve collapsed. Billy followed him down. His fists came next.
Each punch landed with a dull, horrible sound Darcy knew she'd hear in nightmares. Blood spread across Steve's face frighteningly fast.
"Billy!" She took a step before instinct screamed at her to stop. "Stop! You're going to kill him!"
Billy didn't even look at her. He just kept hitting him. Calculated movement scurried behind the group.
Max.
She appeared behind Billy clutching one of the long IV sedatives Joyce had prepared for Will. Before anyone realised what she was doing, she drove it straight into Billy's neck.
Billy jerked violently. His hand flew to the syringe. He yanked it free.
"...The hell..." His words caught. His brow furrowed. "What did you—"
His knees buckled. He looked at Max with growing confusion. "Wha... y-you..."
The words dissolved into slurred nonsense. Then he hit the floor. Hard.
Silence swallowed the room. Nobody breathed.
Max wasn't finished.
She crossed the room in three determined strides and picked up Steve's nail-studded bat. Darcy had never seen her look like this. Gone was the frightened little girl who'd been shaking at the sound of an engine. In her place stood someone furious.
Someone who'd spent months swallowing fear until there was no room left for anything except rage. She stood over Billy. Bat raised.
"From now on..." Her voice shook. "...you're leaving me and my friends alone."
Billy blinked sluggishly. "...Screw..yo–."
The bat came down. The nails buried themselves into the wooden floor inches from Billy's leg. The entire room jumped. Even Darcy.
"SAY YOU UNDERSTAND!"
Billy flinched. Max lifted the bat again. Darcy realized with absolute certainty that she wasn't bluffing. Billy realized it too.
"O...okay..."
"I couldn't hear you."
"I..." He swallowed. "...understand."
Max kept staring at him for another long second.
Only when his eyes finally drifted shut did she lower the bat. Her shoulders sagged. The anger disappeared almost as quickly as it'd come.
She looked thirteen again. She tossed the bat aside.
Nobody spoke. Dustin's mouth hung open. Lucas looked at her like he'd never seen her before. Even Mike seemed lost for words. Max crouched beside Billy, pulled the Camaro keys from his jacket, and stood.
The skull keychain jingled softly in the silence. She looked at everyone. "Let's go."
Everyone started moving.
Darcy blinked herself back to reality. "Whoa—no."
Max frowned. "We have a car."
"No." Darcy pointed toward Steve. "No fucking way."
Everyone followed her finger. Steve lay crumpled against the coffee table, barely conscious. Blood streaked down the side of his face.
Mike immediately stepped toward him. "We'll take him with us."
"No." Darcy's answer came so quickly it surprised even her.
Max tossed the keys. Darcy caught them on instinct.
"You coming or not?"
Darcy stared at the keys in her hand. "I'm not driving."
Dustin looked genuinely confused. "...Why?"
Lucas frowned. "I thought you could drive."
Darcy stared at the keys in her hand.
She could drive. Technically.
But she'd had three beers, Steve was bleeding on the floor, Billy was unconscious in the next room, and they were apparently planning to set an interdimensional monster's tunnel system on fire.
This wasn't exactly the night to test the limits of "technically."
"Because I've had three beers and I'm not risking killing us before the monsters get the chance."
"You're not drunk."
"I didn't say I was. I said I'm not driving."
"...Fine." She snatched the keys back. "I'll drive."
Darcy was still staring at the lack of keys in her hand when the reality of the situation finally caught up with her. She could either sit back and be utterly useless, the way she's been this entire time. Or, she could actually help. Do something that felt worth it.
They had a car. They had weapons. They had a plan. Lucky for the kids, Darcy didn't really know what she was doing, and she was irresponsible anyways.
And Steve Harrington was currently unconscious on the Byers’ living room floor because he had decided, for reasons Darcy genuinely could not understand, that fighting Billy Hargrove with his bare hands was a good idea.
“Okay,” Mike said, already moving toward him. “We need to get him up.”
Darcy blinked. “No.”
Everyone stopped.
“No?” Dustin repeated.
“No.” She pointed at Steve’s body. “Absolutely not. We are not just casually moving him around like he’s a piece of furniture.”
Lucas frowned. “Darcy, he’s unconscious.”
“I’m aware.”
“He needs to be in the car.”
“I know.”
Dustin tilted his head. “Then what exactly is your argument?”
Darcy opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Because, annoyingly, Dustin had a point.
She hated when Dustin had a point.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But if you drop him, I’m throwing all of you into the Upside Down myself.”
“That’s not how that works,” Mike said.
“Mike, I literally don't care. Just make he’s okay.”
He scoffed. “Get a load of mom and dad over here”
The boys moved carefully. Which was impressive, considering none of them looked like they had any actual idea what they were doing.
Mike took one arm. Lucas grabbed the other. Dustin hovered uselessly nearby, offering instructions nobody asked for.
“Maybe we should count.”
“Why?”
“So we move at the same time.”
“We are not lifting a piano, Dustin.”
“I’m just saying coordination is important.”
Darcy rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her mouth. Because somehow, impossibly, they were still them.
Still arguing. Still being annoying. Even while the world was ending. They managed to get Steve onto the couch, and Darcy immediately disappeared into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Max asked.
“Ice.”
“For what?”
Darcy looked at her. Max glanced toward Steve.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
She grabbed a towel, wrapped ice inside it, and pressed it carefully against the side of Steve’s head.
He didn’t wake up. That bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Steve wasnt loud. Steve wasnt dramatic. But Steve was the kind of person who could make an entrance without actually entering a room.
Seeing him quiet felt wrong. Steve Harrington was always taking hits for people. And somehow, everyone just let him.
She looked down at him. Even beaten up and covered in blood, he still somehow looked like Steve Harrington. The stupid hair. The stupid face. The stupid confidence that somehow survived everything.
Except right now there was no confidence. Just a guy who had gotten hurt protecting people. A guy who had stepped in front of a monster wearing a human face.
“Darcy?”
She looked up. Max was watching her.
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
Darcy immediately looked away. “I’m checking if he’s alive.”
Dustin appeared beside her. “You’ve been checking for like three minutes.”
“I hate all of you.”
“No, you don’t.”
…
Getting Steve into the car was another disaster. Mostly because everyone had opinions. Darcy was already bracing herself for the ride.
She hadn’t actually ever seen max drive.
“I’m sitting in the front,” Dustin announced.
“No,” Max said immediately.
“Why?”
“Because you’re annoying.”
“That’s not a valid reason.”
“It is. I have to concentrate.”
Mike looked toward the backseat. “Steve needs to lie down.”
Darcy nodded. “Exactly. So I’ll sit with him.”
The room went suspiciously quiet.
She looked up. “What?”
Dustin’s face slowly transformed into the most irritating expression she had ever seen.
“Oh.” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
“I was thinking Steve is going to be very comfortable.”
“Dustin.”
“Very comfortable.”
“Dustin.”
He held up his hands. “Okay. Okay.”
Max rolled her eyes. “Just put him in the back. We need to grab some more supplies and then we’ll be back.”
And somehow, ten minutes later, Darcy found herself sitting in the backseat of Billy’s Camaro with Steve’s unconscious head resting against her lap.
She had no idea how that happened.
Actually, she did. The kids had decided. Apparently, because she was “the most responsible.”
Which was insulting. Because she was absolutely not.
“Make sure his head doesn’t hit the window,” Lucas had said.
Like she needed the reminder. “I know.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Lucas.”
“Okay.”
Dustin shut the door. “Good luck”
Darcy stared at him through the glass. And then she was alone with Steve.
Well. Not alone. The entire backseat was full of weapons, supplies, and teenagers.
But still.
She looked down. Steve’s breathing was steady. His face was bruised. There was blood dried along his temple.
And for some reason, her first thought was that his hair was still annoyingly perfect. Even after getting beaten with a plate. Ridiculous.
She carefully adjusted the ice pack. And then immediately stopped herself when her fingers brushed his hair.
Because for one terrifying second, she wanted to move it away from his forehead. Wanted to run her fingers through it. Wanted to make sure he was okay.
She pulled her hand back. Nope. Absolutely not. That was not happening. That was stupid. Completely stupid.
Even if he had looked at her earlier and trusted her to keep everyone safe.
Even if he had stepped outside to face Billy alone.
Even if he had gotten himself nearly killed because he cared too much.
Nope.
Still stupid.
…
The drive was horrific. There was no other word for it. Max drove like someone who had learned from watching action movies.
“Slow down!” Mike shouted.
“I am slowing down!”
“You’re going eighty!”
“That is slower than ninety!”
Darcy gripped the side of the seat. “Max.”
“What?”
“Please do not kill us before the monsters get a chance.”
Dustin leaned forward from the passenger seat. “I actually think statistically we have a higher chance of dying from the Mind Flayer.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Behind them, Steve shifted slightly. Everyone froze.
Darcy immediately looked down. “Steve?”
Nothing. Just a small movement. A tiny sound.
Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”
Max glanced in the mirror. “How is he?”
Darcy looked down at him. “Still unconscious.”
“Good.”
Darcy looked up. “What?”
“Uh, I mean, good that he’s resting.”
“You almost sounded happy.”
“I’m not.”
“You definitely did.”
“No i didnt.”
Darcy sighed. “Just focus on the road, maxie.”
Max rolled her eyes, but Darcy caught the tiny smile in the rearview.
(series) Masterlist
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