Oh h*ck i forgot i was cross posting this

this officially got an upgrade from a oneshot series to a short story, wooo!

Blood Bound part 4. Rated T for actual violence.

Why oh why couldn't he just learn to drive like a normal person?

Steven looked up at the stars winking in the sky as he trudged down the sidewalk, holding his throbbing left arm. Years upon years of blood draws and he still hadn't gotten used to it. He'd made up his mind to call a taxi to drive him home, better than trying to walk in this condition, only to discover that he had neglected to bring his wallet. This clinic was within walking distance, so he hadn't thought he'd need to bring his bus card with him, so he hadn't thought about his wallet, and… now he was walking home in the dark.

At least he didn't feel as sick as he sometimes did, he considered, trying to focus on the positives. He was about halfway there, only two miles to go. The exercise would keep his blood pumping. Probably better this way.

He lifted his chin to the sky, gazing at the stars again. His stomach was starting to complain, and he was looking forward to having some of Herobrine's cooking when he returned. The man himself had left almost a week ago, now, but he had been thoughtful enough to prepare a good number of reheatable meals for once he had gone. He had also tried to harass Steven into signing up for a meal-kit delivery service, which the latter was still considering. He wasn't sure he would have the energy for even that after a draw.

Steven kicked a pebble on the sidewalk, watching dully as it skipped over the concrete and landed in the grass. He… missed having Herobrine around. It was odd having someone in his house, but… nice, too. It filled the quiet in a way that blaring the TV all day never could, and it was nice feeling like someone… actually cared about him.

But, Herobrine had to go. It was safer elsewhere for him, since this was the area he escaped in, and he had people to help. Steven couldn't expect this legendary vigilante to just stay in his home and be his personal chef.

As he walked, Steven realized suddenly how quiet it had become.

A sense of unease came over him. It was after 11 PM, and there was almost no one around. He was nearing a stretch of sidewalk with almost no streetlamps, only the barest light from the moon above illuminating his path. Steven wondered if he should cross the street, try to find another route - but, no, he would just get lost. He just needed to hurry.

Steven broke into a slight jog as he entered the dark part of his route, trying to keep his breaths quiet so he could listen for approaching footsteps. Before long, he ran out of breath and was forced to slow to a walk again, but he continued listening, glancing around himself as he walked. Almost out, almost to the light.

He stepped into the light of a street lamp.

Steven let himself breathe again. He was so paranoid. Just because he was walking in a dim area didn't mean he was going to be jumped. Not that he was going to continue doing it, but still, he was being foolish. He paused, took a deep breath, then continued.

He only heard the other footsteps an instant before he was struck in the back of the head.

Steven pitched forward, barely catching himself with his arms as he hit the sidewalk. He gasped, but immediately struggled back to his feet, feeling his attacker's hand nearly close around his wrist before he bolted down the sidewalk. Shouts followed him, then rapid footfalls. Steven knew he couldn't outrun them, he was weak, they could-

A hand grabbed his shoulder, jerking him back and causing him to stumble harshly. He tried to get his bearings, only for a hand to seize him by the hair and slam his head into the wall of a building.

"Careful!" A voice snapped as Steven crumpled onto his front on the sidewalk. Oh, Notch his skull felt broken… "He's no good to us dead!"

"I didn't hurt him badly." Another voice protested. Steven tried halfheartedly to get an arm underneath him, only to freeze at the click of a gun. "Stay down."

"'have nothing," Steven croaked out. "Le' me go…"

"Shut up." A knee was planted in the center of his back, and his wrists were yanked behind his back, swiftly zip-tied together. Steven's addled mind slowly pieced these things together - no good to them dead, tying his wrists- oh Notch he was being kidnapped.

"n-NO! Get off!" Steven bucked, trying to get free, and he managed to throw his attacker off balance enough to knock him off. Rolling over on his side, Steven moved to try and get upright. He only caught a glimpse of the man closing in on him before the gun slammed into his head, sending colors flashing across his vision.

Steven could do nothing but lay still as the men muttered to each other, pain throbbing through his head. What could… what did they even want with him? He had nothing, except for… except the insanely valuable blood that his body produced. Oh dear Notch no…

"…van around." One of the men was saying. Steven squirmed, jerking at his wrists, but the zip tie that bit into his flesh held fast. No one was looking for him… no one would even know he was missing until his next blood draw. Would they find him? Would there be anything left of him to find?

"RAAAAAGH!" The sudden roar had Steven flinching and cowering, anticipating an attack, but all he got were the screams of his kidnappers. He heard blows landing, and several pained sounds, before hasty footsteps as the men fled. Steven lay on the ground, half curled into a fetal position as he waited tensely for any sort of cue. What… just happened? His head was pounding too much to think straight…

Footsteps approached him, slow, casual, and he stiffened before he heard the voice of their owner.

"You picked a good night to be kidnapped, Stonewall, any sooner and I might not have been in town."

Steven's eyes shot open, and he looked up just in time to see Herobrine step over his prone form and kneel down behind him.

"H'ro-" He choked out. A moment later, the zip tie snapped, his hands freed.

"You're in quite the shape." Herobrine muttered. "Let me guess, on your way back from an appointment? Haven't eaten all day?"

"Ate b'fore I left…" Steven managed in a small voice. Herobrine stepped around him again, crouching down before him to look him in the eyes, but Steven could do nothing but stare. In the dimness, he could see why those would-be kidnappers had screamed as they did - Brine's blank eyes and sharp teeth would scare even the most resolute of villains.

"If I find you're lying to me," Brine threatened. "I swear I'm going to hire a butler for you." Steven snorted, managing a small smile.

"W-with what money…"

"Yours." Brine cocked a brow. Steven just stared. That was believable enough. "What did they do to you?" Herobrine asked, now looking him over.

"Hit in the head… twice. No, three times." Steven lifted his hand, prodding gingerly at the back of his head. It felt intact, fortunately.

"You're bleeding." Brine noted, and Steven winced. "Side of your head." His fingers shifted to investigate, and, sure enough, there was a gash on the side of his head. Likely from being slammed into that wall.

"Alright," Brine straightened. "Let's get you home. You need rest."

"Wha' 'bout hospital…" Steven gasped out, trying to push himself up, but Brine stopped him with a hand pressed to his shoulder.

"For now, you need rest and a full stomach." He told him firmly. "Bright lights and machines hooked up to you will only bring you more stress. If you're feeling awful in the morning, you can call the hospital then. But tonight you sleep in your own bed." Steven didn't argue. He wasn't strong enough to refuse him anyway.

"Don't know if I can walk…"

"I won't make you." In one, swift motion, Herobrine slipped his hands under Steven's limp body and hoisted him up against him. Steven swayed dangerously, a small sound escaping him as his head throbbed, but Brine merely settled his head against his shoulder.

"I swear, you need a private car." He muttered, starting to walk. "Walking home at night practically screams 'I'm kidnappable, come get me'." Steven shut his eyes, sagging in Brine's grip as he was carried home. He doubted he would even see his street before he passed out. Thank you, Notch…