Christine was absolutely furious with Dustin. There weren't enough words in the English language to accurately describe how furious she was. By the time he finished re-explaining how he'd found D'Artagnan, what the rest of the party had said about him, and the reality of Will's latest episode, Christine was ready to kill him. She might still kill him when this was all over, if there was such a thing. It was starting to feel like there would never be an end to the strange things that happened in Hawkins.

For now, the best she could do was ignore him. She refused to look at Dustin as he trailed after her around the house, rambling about nougat and South American reptiles, Steve's eyes following them like a very confusing tennis match as he stood frozen in the living room. When Christine walked into her room to change, she pointedly closed the door in Dustin's face, but he just kept going. He talked as she slipped into a pair of jeans and boots, talked as she blew past him for the garage, talked as she grabbed her trusty hammer and compass and shoved them into her bag. It wasn't until she sat down at the dining room table to load the shotgun that he finally decided he was finished.

"Anyway," Dustin said in conclusion. "That's what you missed."

Christine ignored him.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Steve demanded on her behalf, finally joining them in the same room. "You're only telling us this now?"

"I don't have to tell you shit, Harrington."

"Fine! Why didn't you tell Christine?"

"She would've made me get rid of him."

"Uh, yeah! He's a baby murder-monster!"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"He ate your cat!"

"I didn't leave him enough food!"

"Oh, so that makes it okay?!"

"No! Obviously not! I'm here, okay?"

"I can't believe this." Steve laughed in disbelief and shook his head. "This is insane. Christine?"

Christine ignored him. She focused on the chamber and shoved in another shell.

Dustin scowled at her. "Wow, Chrissy. Real mature."

"Yeah," said Steve, rolling his eyes. "This coming from the twelve-year-old."

"This coming from the dick who was having a screaming match fifteen minutes ago."

"That—that was private!"

"If it's private, don't scream at the top of your lungs!"

Christine abruptly got up from her chair. She pushed her way between Steve and Dustin, heading for the back door and leaving the boys to follow in her wake.

"Wait wait wait," Steve begged as they crossed the yard, "hold on! Are we actually doing this? We're just gonna walk over and face the murder lizard without backup?"

"Chrissy is backup," Dustin countered. "You can go home if you want."

"What? No. No, I'm not going home."

"Then stop complaining."

"I'm not complaining. I'm just saying we should think about this!"

"I have thought about it. Dart is locked in the cellar. We open the door, and if he tries to attack us, Chrissy shoots. Only in self-defense, though! I mean it, Christine. I already scared him earlier when I hit him with my hockey stick. We don't hurt him if we don't have to."

"Great. So Chris has a shotgun, the kid's got a hockey stick, and I have a flashlight. Just a—oh shit! Hold on!"

Steve made a hard right and tore down the driveway to his car.

"Where the hell is he going?"

Dustin groaned and took off after him, leaving Christine standing there with a gun in her hands and no backup at all. She considered going on without them—fighting D'Artagnan solo had to be more peaceful than listening to Dustin and Steve squabble—but, reluctantly, trudged after them toward the street.

It had gotten dark fast. Still, Christine was careful to hold the shotgun down low, just in case any passersby on the street started asking questions. She hid behind the bulk of Steve's car as he fumbled with the latch to the trunk.

"Harrington!" Dustin actually snapped his fingers in Steve's face. "You realize we're on a time-sensitive mission, right? Every second we leave Dart alone, he's getting bigger, and every second he's getting bigger is one second he's closer to eating—"

"Hold these."

Steve tossed Dustin his car keys and popped the trunk open. He had to move some things around, but a moment later, he emerged with a familiar baseball bat.

"Alright." Steve gave it a few experimental twirls, the sharp nails cutting through the air with a whistle. "Now we can go."

"You kept it?"

Christine wasn't sure where her rage had gone, or why her voice came out so soft. Steve looked at her, almost concerned.

"Well, yeah, I kept it. What else was I gonna do with it?"

"No, I mean…has that seriously been in your car all year?"

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged sheepishly and closed the trunk. "You're not the only one who worries, you know."

She had to tuck her lips in to make sure she didn't grin.

Steve talked a lot about how he didn't understand anything about what had happened last year. He'd been completely blindsided that night, which he often described it as "crazy," but he rarely talked about being scared. Knowing that he'd been prepared, always kept his trusty bat within reach just in case…it was almost a relief. She might've been the one with the gun, but she already felt safer.

Her smile must've slipped out, because Steve sent her a quick wink. Christine's heart skipped a beat before she furiously shut it down. Now was not the time.

"Holy shit…" Dustin was staring at Steve in awe. "That's awesome!"

"What?" Steve blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh…thanks. Technically, it's Nancy's…Jonathan's? I don't even know."

"Can I hold it?"

"No, you can't hold it."

Dustin's joy evaporated. He scowled at Steve and grumpily shoved the car keys back into his hand. "Fine, asshole. Cellar's this way."

He turned on his heel and marched away with his chin held high. It might've looked impressive if it weren't for his dorky headset with the antenna bobbing over his head. Steve glared after him.

"After we kill the lizard, can I take a crack at the kid?"

"No," Christine said firmly. "If anyone kills Dustin, it's gonna be me."

The entrance to the Hendersons' cellar was in front of the house, on the opposite side of the property as Christine's. A patch of trees and Dustin's defunct playhouse gave them some cover from the open road, but it also made everything uncomfortably dark. Christine did her best to keep her hands steady as a cold wind blew through the yard.

Dustin fell to the back of the group as they grew closer to the double doors. Steve took the lead, shining his flashlight down on the rusty orange doors. In addition to the storm clasp, Dustin had wound a length of chain around the door handles, secured with a large padlock. Steve leaned over the doors and cocked his head to the side. He listened for a moment, then shook his head.

"I don't hear shit."

"He's in there," Dustin assured him.

Steve still looked doubtful, but he cautiously raised his bat. He weighed it in his hand and slowly stretched toward the door. Then he tapped the nails against the metal, recoiled as fast as he could, and braced himself.

There was no response.

He stepped forward again, more confident this time, and swung the bat down a little harder. The nails made a loud bang that echoed slightly in the cellar.

Still no response.

Steve turned to shine the flashlight directly into Dustin's face.

"Alright, listen, kid. I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you're dead."

"It's not."

"Alright?"

"It's not a prank!" Dustin insisted, fiercely as he could while his eyes were clenched shut. "Get it out of my face."

Steve didn't show any sign of listening to him. Christine caught his eye, fixing him with a hard look until he folded. Rolling his eyes, he lowered the flashlight's beam down to Dustin's chest.

"You got a key for this thing?"

"Oh, shit, yeah—"

Dustin patted himself down, checking his various pockets until he found the key. He held it up with a victorious smile and hurried to remove the lock. The chains clanked loudly against the metal door, even as Dustin tried to gently ease them through the handles. The moment they were free, he dropped them in the grass and scampered back behind Christine.

"Hey," Steve called, and tossed him the flashlight. "Make yourself useful."

"Yup! Sure, I'm—I will be useful."

Dustin tried to stand as far back as he could manage. He thrust the flashlight high over his head and angled it down so the shaky beam landed on the metal doors. It prompted Steve to shoot Christine a doubtful look, but she merely set her jaw and readied her gun.

"All you."

Reluctantly, Steve nodded and sank into a squat. He looked back at her over his shoulder, silently mouthed a countdown from three, then yanked the doors open.

The hinges creaked loudly, making all three of them flinch. Thankfully, no lizards came jumping out to attack. They crept forward as a group, craning their necks to peer down the empty stairs into a dark pit of nothing. Steve beckoned to Dustin, who was clearly happy to forfeit the flashlight and stay as far back as he could. Light poured down the stairwell to the concrete floor down below, but there was still no sign of life: no lizards, no blood, no slime. It didn't look like anyone had been down there at all.

"Dustin—" Christine sighed, lowering the gun.

"I swear I'm not kidding," he promised before she could finish. "He must be further down there. He doesn't like the light, so—so maybe he's hiding!"

Christine pursed her lips and exchanged another look with Steve in silent debate. She didn't think Dustin was lying; he knew better than to lie about something like this, and "code red" was a sacred term he wouldn't have used without reason. He took things like that way too seriously. At the same time, she'd seen too many horror movies to fight a monster in a dark cellar that only had one exit.

Steve tapped his bat against the grass as he deliberated. "Should we fire a warning shot or something?"

"You're joking, right?" Christine hissed. "I'm not firing a shotgun in the middle of suburbia on the off-chance there's something down there."

"There is something down there," Dustin said again. "Steve can go down first, and Chrissy and I will stay up here in case Dart tries to escape."

"What?" Steve turned around in alarm. "Chrissy's got the gun. Why do I have to go first?"

"Because if Dart's gonna eat someone, I want it to be you instead of her. No offense."

Steve gaped at him, very clearly offended. He shook his head in disbelief and looked back down the stairs. "Thanks for your honesty, I guess."

"You got it, man," Dustin said supportively.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Whatever, I'll go first and—"

"No, no, I got it." Steve got to his feet, shaking his limbs out to rid himself of his nerves. "Just…don't shoot me, okay?"

He stared down the stairs as he prepared himself. His knee bounced up and down a few times, the same way it would've if he'd been getting ready to make a free throw shot during a game. Then he took a deep breath and crept into the cellar. They could only watch as the darkness swallowed him whole.

Christine and Dustin waited with bated breath. A soft click made them both jump, and Christine's finger twitched on the trigger, but it was just the pull-string for the cellar's light. Steve's shadow stretched across the floor, then disappeared as he moved farther into the room.

As the seconds ticked by, Christine grew worried. Steve hadn't screamed, so presumably he wasn't being torn to shreds, but silence wasn't good either. Did it mean that Dart was down there, ready to pounce the moment Steve made a sound? Did it mean Dart wasn't down there? Was Steve even down there anymore? Had he vanished like Will, sucked through some portal that Dart had left behind?

"Steve?" Dustin called nervously. "Steve, what's going on down there?"

When they didn't get an answer, Christine tightened her grip on the shotgun. "That's it. I'm coming down."

Her words didn't get a response, but the pump of the shotgun certainly did.

"Hey hey hey! It's cool! Don't shoot!"

"Damnit, Steve! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Sorry! I—it's safe to come down. You're gonna want to see this."

Christine and Dustin exchanged looks of alarm before racing down the steps into the cellar.

"Seriously, Steve," she huffed as they reached the bottom, "what's wrong with—ew! Watch it!"

She squealed and jumped out of the way as Steve turned to face them, nearly smacking her with the gooey something on the end of his bat. It looked like a wet trash bag—and smelled like a wet trash bag—but even without touching it, Christine recognized the slime that was dripping onto the floor. It was the same thing that had matted her hair together last year, that had stuck under her fingernails, slicked the vines that she couldn't hold onto…

"Oh shit," Dustin groaned, taking a closer look at the substance.

Steve gestured wordlessly to the far corner of the room. Christine's eyes drifted past him, and her heart sank.

"Oh shit…"

Evidently, Dart had gotten bigger and stronger. The stones that lined the far wall of the cellar had been dislodged, broken, and crumbled to expose the dirt behind them. There was a hole about two-feet wide, leading down a dark tunnel into the earth. It looked like Dart had burrowed his way out of captivity.

"No way." Dustin snatched the flashlight from Steve and ran forward, peering into the tunnel. "No way!"

"Yeah way," Steve scoffed. "Whatever was down here is long gone by now."

"I told you, Dart was down here! Do you believe me now?"

"Dustin," Christine said wearily, "you don't get to say 'I told you so' when you only told us fifteen minutes ago."

"Says who?!"

She ignored him, crouching down beside him to take a look inside the hole. "How far do you think it goes?"

"Miles, probably," Dustin replied, sounding far too excited for the situation. "He was in here all afternoon, which means he has like a seven-hour head start. For all we know he dug his way out of Indiana."

"Or straight through to China," Steve suggested.

"No, not China, dumbass. He'd melt in the Earth's core, and that's if the gravitational pressure didn't kill him first."

"Alright, smartass—"

"Wait, hang on," Christine interrupted. She plopped down on the stone floor to collect her thoughts. "I thought you said Dart was a Demogorgon. Why did he need to burrow at all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Demogorgon just moved back and forth between dimensions when it wanted to get somewhere. Once the portal was closed, there wouldn't be any trace of it."

"Well, Dart's still a baby," Dustin offered. "Maybe he's not strong enough to teleport on his own yet."

"Great," Steve huffed, "so that just narrows it down to the entire country. How are we supposed to find it now?"

Christine slumped on the floor, gazing into the tunnel. Steve was right; it wasn't like they had an equation to calculate the average land speed of baby Demogorgon. They didn't know how far Dart had gone, what direction he'd gone, or what he was looking for. The hole went on for at least several meters, far enough that it was beyond visibility. There was no way to know how far it went…unless…

She tilted her head, then looked over to catch Dustin's eye. Before she could even say anything, his jaw dropped in horror.

"Nu-huh! No way!"

"No what?" she asked innocently.

"You can't!"

"Well, it's not like I want to."

"Then don't!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Steve looked between them in mounting alarm. "Wait, what are we talking about? What idea?"

"No." Dustin glowered at her, stubbornly folding his arms over his chest. "If anyone's going, it's me."

"Um, no," Christine said firmly. "Absolutely not."

"Um, yes. I'm the best choice."

"Dustin, you're a kid."

"I'm a dwarf! We're acclimated to subterranean spaces!"

"Oh, that's your argument? Fine! I'm a rogue, which means I have the better skill set."

"Okay, seriously," Steve interrupted, "what are you two talking about?"

"I'm smaller," Dustin challenged.

"I'm older," Christine countered.

"It's my job to take care of him!"

"It's my job to take care of you!"

"I'll be fine. I'll be on comms."

"Dustin, I'm not letting you go in there!"

"Woah, woah, in there?" Steve's eyes blew wide as he pointed to the hole. "No! No one is going in there! No one is going in the creepy tunnel with a monster at the end!"

"Stop calling him that!"

"Again: cat!"

"Dusty?! Chrissy?! Are you two out here?!"

The bickering in the cellar stopped as Claudia Henderson's voice floated down the stairs. The three teens looked at each other with wide eyes, then Dustin leapt to his feet like he was being propelled out of a toaster and made a break for the yard.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—"

Christine scrambled to her feet to run after him, only for Steve to grab her wrist.

"Whoa, wait! Gun!"

"What?" She looked down at her hand, surprised to find that she was still holding the shotgun. "Oh—oh my God! No! Claudia can't see this!"

"Yeah, or this," Steve hissed, waving to the giant hole in the wall. With a grimace, he pulled the shotgun out of her grip. "Just go. I got it."

"Steve—"

"Go!"

Christine whined in frustration and scurried up the stairs.

Thankfully, Claudia hadn't made it to the cellar door. Dustin had stopped her in the driveway, and was currently being smothered in a one-armed hug. It took Christine a moment to realize why his mother was balancing a pizza box in her other arm; she'd completely forgot that she'd ordered food.

"Oh, sweetie, there you are!" Claudia released her son and pulled Christine into a similarly awkward hug. "When I came home and saw the pizza boy outside your house, I got so worried! Poor boy must've been standing there for ages!"

"I'm so sorry, Claudia. Dustin and I just lost track of the time."

"What on earth were you two doing in the cellar?"

Christine pulled out of the hug and shared a surreptitious look with Dustin.

"Looking for Mews," he supplied at once.

Claudia frowned at him. "…in the cellar?"

"Yup! Just in case! You know cats. They get into the darnedest places. They can be liquid when they want to! Ha! They defy the laws of physics!"

"Yeah!" Christine jumped in. "Dustin told me she was still missing when I got home from work. We just figured we'd look around in case she came back."

"But—but she didn't. Mews isn't down there. Nothing defying the laws of physics in the cellar."

Dustin laughed nervously. Christine resisted the urge to smack him, but it was a close call.

Claudia frowned at them, more disappointed than she was suspicious. "Are you sure? Did you try shaking her treats? Or her bell ball? We can check agai—"

"Uh, no"—Christine quickly stepped in Claudia's way—"she's really not down there. We checked the whole thing top to bottom."

There was an ill-timed bang in the cellar. Christine and Dustin both flinched as Claudia gasped and pushed past them.

"Mews?! Mewsy?! Is that you?! Oh, Mommy's coming, baby! I'm right—"

She stopped short. Steve was jogging up the stairs, paying them no mind as he closed the doors and put the lock back in place.

"I checked the top of the shelves," he called over his shoulder as he secured the doors. "Definitely no cats. Oh—hi, you must be Mrs. Henderson."

"I—yes, I am." Claudia stared at him, flabbergasted. "I'm so sorry. You are…?"

"Steve Harrington." He offered her a hand with a charming smile. "I'm friends with Chrissy. She asked for a lift around the block, so I figured I'd lend a hand."

"You—oh, my!" In an instant, Claudia's confusion vanished, replaced by pure adoration. She grabbed Steve's hand with both of hers, practically tearing up. "That is so, so kind of you! Oh, I can't thank you enough!"

"Really, it's no problem. I just wish we coulda been more help."

"No, no! We'll find Mewsy when she wants to be found, I'm sure of it. She is just the smartest little kitten there is. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

She beamed at him and patted him lightly on the chest. Steve took the praise in stride, but Dustin made a gagging sound behind Christine's back; she swatted at him.

"Thanks for grabbing the pizza, Claudia," she interrupted with a pained smile. "Let me just run home and I can pay you back."

"Oh, not at all, dear! You know it's no trouble, especially when your father goes away like this. In fact, why don't you kids eat dinner here? I can heat this up for you and—ooh, I'll make garlic bread!"

"Uh, that's—thank you, really, but—"

"Mom, Chrissy's gotta go because she—you know, she has—"

"Actually," Steve cut in, "garlic bread sounds amazing."

Claudia giggled with joy and clapped her hands together. "Aw, wonderful! Well, please, come on in! Any friend of Christine's is a friend of ours. We've got pop, we've got brownies, and I'll go grab some pictures of Mewsy too! Just in case. Go on!"

She shooed Steve ahead of her toward the house. Christine and Dustin stared, baffled as Steve led the way without any kind of argument. As Claudia passed, she leaned into Christine with a barely audible whisper.
"Chrissy, he is just too cute!"

She winked and ushered Steve into the house, already launching into the tale of how they'd adopted Mews. Christine watched them go, rooted to the spot. She was horrified, flustered, almost impressed. This was going to be a nightmare.

Dustin stepped up to her side, wrinkling his nose. "Why do I feel…dirty?"

"Oh, shut up, Dust." Christine scowled and shoved him toward the door. "Walk."

The Walcott house had always been relatively simple: neutral walls, neutral floors, and very little décor. They'd spent so many years moving around the country that they'd gotten used to living with the minimum. It was only since they'd settled in Hawkins that they'd started amassing posters and knickknacks and stuff.

By comparison, the Henderson house was wild. Everything in it was bold and eclectic, just like them. The walls were all covered in patterned wallpaper, exposed stone, or painted bright colors like teal and orange. There were throw pillows, ornamental mirrors, clocks made out of seashells, and enough cat figurines to stock a small antique store, not to mention about a hundred photos that tracked Dustin and Mews over the course of their entire lives.

Steve was standing in the middle of the living room, taking it all in with mild interest. Claudia had disappeared, but the moment Christine closed the door, her voice called in from the dining room.

"Dusty?! Will you set the table, please?!"

Dustin groaned loudly in response, but walked into the kitchen to grab plates. Before he walked out, he stopped in front of Steve. He pointed to his own eyes, then Steve's, and glowered with all the power his little body could muster. Steve raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"DUSTY!"

"DAMNIT, I'M COMING!"

"LANGUAGE!"

Dustin glared at Steve once more before marching out of the room.

"Jeez," Steve chuckled. "Kid's got some nerve."

Christine folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "What the hell was that about?"

"That?" He frowned at her, confused until she gestured toward the door. "Oh, that. Come on, give me some credit. I might not know anything about monsters or alternate dimensions, but I'm awesome at lying to people's parents. Takes some serious practice."

He grinned proudly, and Christine fixed him with a disparaging look.

"God, you're such a douchebag."

"Wha—hey! I helped!"

"Yup. Thanks so much, King Steve."

She rolled her eyes and, just like Dustin, marched out of the room to heat up the pizza, leaving a crestfallen Steve in the living room.

Christine was still upset with him about their fight, but more than anything, she was unbelievably nervous. It wasn't like she hadn't had dinner with Steve before. She'd third-wheeled for him and Nancy at the diner plenty of times. He'd even stayed for dinner with her dad a few nights, when they had a ton of homework or a big project to work on. Her dad was still unsure around Steve; he knew about all the drama that he'd caused between Christine and Nancy, and how long Christine had liked him. Steve was just as uncertain around her dad. Like he'd said, he had plenty of practice lying to parents, and plenty of experience with neglectful ones. Christine's tight-knit relationship with her dad was a little baffling to him, but after a few months of awkward dinners and tentative jokes, Steve loosened up. He really liked Christine's dad, and seemed to think he was just as cool as Nancy did—and that was saying something.

If the early dinners with Steve and her dad had been awkward, dinner with the Hendersons was excruciating.

"So, what were you kids up to tonight?" Claudia asked, eyeing Steve and Christine with thinly veiled interest. "I hope Dusty didn't interrupt you to look for Mews."

"Oh, I interrupted them, all right," Dustin said dryly.

Steve immediately broke into a coughing fit and Christine kicked Dustin under the table.

"We were arguing about what movie to watch," she said before Claudia could jump to the wrong conclusion. Luckily, it was the easiest lie in the book.

"Oh, you and your movies," Claudia chuckled, shaking her head. She leaned in toward Steve. "You'd think working at The Hawk, she'd have her fill, but no! This girl loves movies more than anyone I've ever met. And those horror movies you watch—" She paused to shudder. "—well, bless her, because they don't frighten her at all. Whenever Dusty wants to see one I have to send him with Christine. I'm just not brave enough."

"I know what you mean," Steve said benevolently. "She showed me Halloween the other day, and—man, I just about cried I was so scared."

"It wasn't that bad," said Christine, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, you said you liked it."

"Well, yeah, obviously I said I liked it. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I was humoring you."

He gave a performative scoff, and Christine smacked him in the shoulder. She knew he was just teasing her—which was rich, considering the thin ice he was on—but Dustin wasn't so quick to forgive.

"Hey, speaking of Halloween, how's Nancy? You're still—OW!"

Christine rammed her heel into his knee under the table. Dustin gaped at her and kicked her right back. They broke into a foot fight, vicious enough to shake the silverware on the table, but Claudia disregarded the disturbance entirely. Her face had lit up in recognition as she looked at Steve in a new light.

"Oh, Nancy! Of course! I knew I'd heard your name somewhere before! Karen Wheeler always has the nicest things to say about you."

"Uh—really?" Steve was visibly confused. "That's—um—that's so sweet of her."

"She's always raving about how well you treat Nancy, with the dates, and gifts, and driving her to school—oh! And driving Christine to school last year when her leg was broken!" Claudia gasped and laid a solemn hand on her chest. "I swear—when Dusty called me from the hospital that night to tell me that Chrissy had gotten hurt—well, I just burst into tears. I don't know that I've ever been so scared in my life."

"Trust me," said Christine, "it was a scary night for everyone."

The boys both snorted at the same time. Dustin immediately stopped to glare at Steve.

"Now remind me," Claudia continued, oblivious to the tension, "your mother, she's volunteers on the board for the HOA, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, "and for the PTA, and the community center, the county office, and…well, just about everywhere you can volunteer, I guess."

"You know, I thought that was her! She was just so helpful when Dusty and I moved in. Came right over to introduce herself and tell us about the neighborhood, the school district, the shops. She's just a one-woman welcome committee!"

"Oh, definitely," he agreed with barely restrained sarcasm. "How long have you lived in Hawkins?"

"Now, let me think—"

"Fahv yehrs," Dustin supplied through a mouthful of cheese.

"My goodness, is it really? I can't believe it's been that long."

"Yup," added Christine. "You moved in a year after me and Dad."

"And thank God in heaven for that!" Claudia gave her a loving smile and leaned in towards Steve once more. "You know, these two have been thick as thieves since the day they met."

"Oh yeah?" Steve asked with a smirk.

"Absolutely! The day we moved in—"

"Mooom!"

"Oh hush, Dusty. It's a nice story. The day we moved in, Chrissy and her father came over to introduce themselves and—Christine, you were the tiniest thing back then—just a little string bean!"

Christine gave her a half-hearted smile and focused intently on pouring herself another glass of pop; she had no desire to relive her awkward stage.

"Well," Claudia continued, "tiny as she was, when she walked over, all Dusty saw was a middle school girl—and when I tell you he bolted into the house, I mean he bolted. Just grabbed his comic books and ran. Of course, I was mortified. I was just falling over myself trying to explain to Pete like, 'I am so sorry! He's not normally like this! He hasn't been shy a day in his life!' And little Chrissy just gave me this little smile and said, 'That's okay, Mrs. Henderson. I was scared the first time I moved, too.' And I knew—I knew right then and there that she was just a little angel sent for us."

"Claudia, it's really not that—"

"Don't be modest, Chrissy. Anyway, she and her father offered to help me with some of the boxes, and as we're coming in and out of the house, Dusty eventually creeps out of his room and just watches. He was terrified, just hiding behind doors—"

"I wasn't scared!"

"Oh, sweetie, I know you were just nervous—he kept watching Christine as if he'd never seen a girl before, just so interested. And I don't know how long it was, but eventually she brought in one of the boxes for his room, and Dustin's copy of The Hobbit was sitting on top. So Chrissy started talking to him about it, and how much she loved it. Dusty was trying to make his way through the other books, but he was getting them from the library, so Chrissy offered to lend him her copies."

"Which was a mistake," Christine grumbled.

"I paid you back!"

"Personally, I was just relieved that they were getting along. Dustin was only eight, and I was so worried that the move was upsetting him. It was so nice to see him making friends. Then I turn my back for one minute, and when I come back the two of them are in the middle of a huge argument going on about what order the chapters go in and what monsters show up first. Well, Chrissy and her father left not long after that, and I was fully prepared for Dustin to burst into tears, but the moment they left, he looked up at me with a big smile and said, 'Chrissy's awesome, Mommy! I love her!'"

"I did not!" Dustin objected, slamming his hands on the table.

"Yes, you did," Claudia said confidently. "You said that she knew everything about The Hobbit, and you loved her."

"That's not true! I never said that!"

"Dusty, stop shouting. It's perfectly fine to admit you had a little crush on her."

It was hard to tell who looked more revolted by the thought: Dustin or Christine.

"God, I hope not."

"Mom, that's gross! Christine's gross!"

"Hey! You're gross!"

"Oh, will the two of you relax?" Claudia sighed, shaking her head. "Both of you are adorable. Dustin looks handsome as ever with his new teeth, and Chrissy's grown up into a beautiful young lady."

Christine and Dustin continued to frown at each other, but grumpily swallowed their complaints. Steve was watching the whole exchange with amusement, happily munching away on the last slice of pizza. Christine angrily kicked him under the table, which only made him chuckle. And just when she thought it couldn't get any worse…

"You really have grown up, sweetheart," Claudia offered Christine, as if that might reassure her. "You're so much taller, and you stopped hiding in those big flannels. Of course, it helps that your chest filled out—"

Steve choked and coughed up several crumbs of his pizza crust. Dustin immediately clapped his hands over his ears and began humming as loud as he possibly could, and Christine sank so low in her chair that her spine felt like it was about to snap. Maybe when they found Dart, she'd let him eat her.

If there was such a thing as a silver lining, it was that most of the food was gone; everyone finished the food on their plates with minimal conversation. Dustin, who seemed to think that Christine had been through enough for one day, took it upon himself to come up with their new cover story: Christine had the only copy of Creepshow out from the rental store, so Dustin was going to stay over her house to watch it. It was only after ten minutes of goodbyes and thank yous that they were able to escape Claudia and get back to the real problem: D'Artagnan the Demogorgon.

"Okay, we don't know where Dart is," Dustin recapped as the three of them sat around the coffee table in the living room, "but maybe we don't need to. What if instead of finding Dart, we help Dart find us?"

"Sounds horrifying," said Steve. "How do you plan to do that?"

"The same way I got him into the cellar: with a trail of food."

"What, like more Three Musketeers Bars?"

"Uh, no. I think it's safe to say that Dart's dietary needs go beyond nougat. We'd probably need meat. Like, a lot of meat."

"I don't know about this, Dustin," Christine sighed, leaning forward on her knees. "Dart's clearly past foraging for food. If he needs to eat, he can hunt."

"Okay, but—but that doesn't mean that he'll turn down food," Dustin reasoned. "Animals will always take advantage of a food source, even predators. We know the tunnel was headed for the woods, so I figure we could leave a trail straight through to the junkyard. This way, he's a safe distance from town."

"Okay," said Steve, shaking his head. "Say that works…what then?"

Dustin shrugged. "Then you guys trap him the way you trapped the Demogorgon last year."

"But we didn't trap the Demogorgon," Christine said gently. "We shot it, we beat it, and we set it on fire. We were trying to kill it. We needed to kill it. You get that, right?"

It hurt to watch Dustin's face fall. He had known that, but clearly hadn't had time to think it through. If D'Artagnan was a Demogorgon, they couldn't just trap him and train him to be a pet. It was kill or be killed, and they needed to act before there was collateral damage.

After a few seconds, Dustin nodded solemnly, and Christine gave him a sympathetic smile.

"We're definitely using your idea about the meat though. Wish Nancy and Jonathan had been that smart. One trip to the butcher and I wouldn't have a scar down my back."

"Yeah," Dustin said, managing a tiny smirk, "but it makes you look like a badass."

"Can we focus?" Steve asked, bringing them back to the subject at hand. "We need meat. How much meat are we talking?"

"Probably a lot," said Christine in resignation. "The problem is that we don't know what part of the woods Dart's in, if he's even in there at all. We're just gonna have to leave a bunch of trails through the woods and hope that he finds one of them. We'd probably have to clear out Big Buy."

"Which we can't do tonight," said Dustin. "I mean, unless we—"

"No." Christine gave him a stern look. "We are not breaking into Big Buy."

"Fine," he groaned, rolling his eyes, "but that means we're gonna have to wait until tomorrow. You and I can go over the maps, and Steve can go to the store and buy the bait."

"Wait, what?" Steve sat up, affronted. "Why do I have to do it? It's your pet. You fork over the cash."

"Seriously, Harrington? I'm thirteen and you drive a BMW. Which one of us do you think has more disposable income?"

Christine snickered, drawing Steve's glare. "Hey, you've got a job! You do it!"

"Uh, no," Dustin argued stubbornly. "Christine's the smart one. She needs to figure out the best places the leave the trail. Plus, she's a girl! Shit, man, be a gentleman."

"Fine! I'll buy the stupid meat! Jeez…"

It wasn't the best plan in the world, but it was the best they could do for now. Christine sat on the floor and spread a map of the town over the coffee table, idly sketching lines through the woods as she tried to gauge how far the junkyard was. Dustin offered commentary here and there, but Steve didn't have much to contribute. He just sat on the couch, knee bouncing more quickly by the minute. It was tense now that there was nothing to do but wait.

Dustin was the one who suggested they put on a movie to kill the time; surprisingly, it was Steve who picked Halloween II. Christine had a feeling he was just trying to suck up to her, but she wasn't going to stop him. If he felt like he needed to cater to her interests, that was fine by her.

By the time the opening credits had finished, Dustin was already starting to yawn. It sounded like he'd had an exhausting day, even if it was entirely his fault: tricking his mom out of the house, trapping Dart in the cellar, burying Mews, scrubbing the blood out of the carpet. Thirty minutes into the movie, he was fast asleep in the armchair.

Christine watched him, her stomach twisting into a knot. Dustin was so intelligent that sometimes she forgot how young he was. Now, curled up on his side with his hat askew, he looked painfully small. All she saw was the little boy who ran away from her the day they met. Back then, just seeing a girl had scared the hell out of him. Today, he'd trapped a monster and hid a dead cat before asking anyone for help.

"You okay?"

Christine jumped. Steve was watching her just as carefully as she'd been watching Dustin. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on the map.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "It's been almost an hour and you haven't given me any fun facts about this movie. I was counting on your commentary to explain what the hell's going on."

She smirked, but didn't answer him. Steve slipped off the couch so he could sit next to her on the floor, and gently nudged her knee.

"Come on. What's wrong?"

"Seriously?" She laughed humorously. "Everything's wrong. This is—this is everything I was afraid of. It's the exact same thing as last year."

"Hey, it's not. Seriously. Last year this all started with Jonathan's brother, right? He went missing, there was all that screwy electric shit. None of that's happened yet."

"Yeah, it has. We don't know where Nancy is, or Jonathan, or Hopper. And even if they're not gone gone, it's only a matter of time. I mean, you heard Dustin: this thing isn't full grown yet, but it's growing fast. All we can do is sit here waiting while it's running around out there. And if we can't find it? If we can't stop it? Then it keeps growing and it keeps eating until…"

Christine cut herself off and swallowed hard. Still, Steve nodded knowingly.

"Until it's Barb all over again."

It was worse to hear him say it out loud. Christine raked her hands through her hair, eyes cast down at the floor.

"I know it's not the same, but…I remember waking up that morning, after your party, and…I was alone on the couch, could barely remember how I got there, didn't know where anyone was, but…I knew that something was wrong; I just had this terrible feeling in my gut. And I felt it when Nancy told me Barb was gone, when we found out she was dead, when I found out Eleven was…and I—I feel it now. Sitting here, doing nothing, not knowing where anyone is, and…and I don't think I can do this again."

They sank into silence. The television volume was low, but the screaming wasn't helping. To Christine, it just sounded like Barb—pleading for help, breathing in dust motes, grappling with slick vines as she was dragged back into the darkness…

"I'm sorry," Steve offered quietly.

Christine shrugged. "It's not your fault."

"No, I mean…about what I said. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. I know you are."

She left it at that. It was all she could really think to say. She was still mad, but it felt silly to be upset about a boy when they were waiting for bodies to start dropping. Did it really matter if Billy liked her? She could be dead tomorrow anyway.

"I was just mad," Steve sighed, shaking his head. "Not at you, just—at everything. I didn't know where Nancy was, and I didn't know that people were missing, and then I realized that…I didn't know what was going on with you either. I mean, why didn't you tell me about Billy?"

"Because it's none of your business," she answered frankly. "And I knew what you were gonna say."

"I just…I don't like him."

"Yeah. That's what you said."

"Chris, I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I don't want to get hurt. That's why I didn't go, okay? You might be an asshole for saying it, but I know it wouldn't end well. I didn't need you to tell me that. Either I'd embarrass myself, or he'd get bored of me, or I'd find out it was some kind of prank—"

"Wait, what?" He looked at her sharply. "Why would it be a prank?"

"I mean…look, when a guy like Billy starts flirting with me, I know to be suspicious. I don't know what it is yet, but he must want something from me."

Christine picked at her nails, avoiding Steve's eyes, but it only did so much good. She didn't need to look at him to see the way he deflated in her peripheral vision. She could feel the guilt rolling off of him, and while it was uncomfortable, she couldn't say she was sorry. He'd hurt her with the truth; she had the right to do the same.

Steve twisted on the floor, tucking one leg beneath him so he could face her head-on. Christine wanted to keep staring at her hands, but after a few seconds, it was clear that he wasn't going to give her that option. He propped his elbow up on the couch behind him and waited until she finally looked up to continue.

"Chrissy, I'm sorry," he started. "I know that I was a total dick last year. And probably the few years before that, and definitely today, but…I need you to know that's not true."

Christine raised her eyebrows. "It's not true…that you're a dick?"

"No, that's—that's totally true; we both know that. I meant what you said about guys wanting something from you. You shouldn't have to second guess shit like that, and I'm sorry if you feel like you do. I don't want you to avoid Billy because he's being suspicious. You're just way too good for him."

This time, she physically had to look away. She couldn't hold his gaze when he looked like that, his big brown eyes sad and honest. She knew he was being genuine, but that just made it hurt all the more. This time he wasn't even trying.

Steve mistook her avoidance for disbelief and forged on.

"I'm serious, Chrissy. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, and I know you're smart enough to figure it out on your own. Billy's just a real creep. I mean, I hear the way he talks in the locker room, and the shit he says about the girls at school. Girls like Tina or Carol and—if I ever heard him talk about you like that I'd…"

He shook his head, letting the sentence trail off. His eyes were dark, and the way his jaw clenched…Christine forced a smirk before she could think about it.

"You'd what? Lose another fight?"

Steve snorted and gave her a grudging smile. "Yeah, probably. And I like my face the way it is, so…just be careful, okay?"

"I will be."

They nodded at each other, smiling sheepishly. Christine didn't let herself look away this time. She wanted to remember this Steve: the genuine one who thought she was funny and cool, the friend who was willing to fight to defend her honor, the guy who wanted to protect her from murderous monsters and lecherous creeps. He was a clueless asshole sometimes, but he cared about her. She wanted to hold onto that.

The music on the television spiked as Michael Myers stepped out from the shadows. He stabbed a nurse in the back with a scalpel and lifted her twitching body into the air with the strength of one hand. Steve wrinkled his nose.

"You seriously watch this for fun?"

"Yeah," Christine said, frowning at the screen. "The sequel's not as good as the first one. But it's better than watching you try to play basketball."

She smiled sweetly and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Funny. Guess it's better than you spending the night with Billy."

It was a risky joke for him to make. Christine knew he was monitoring her reaction out of the corner of his eye. She pouted thoughtfully, pretending to think it over.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea. At least I wouldn't die a virgin."

For the second time that night, Steve was so surprised that he choked. The sound was loud enough that Dustin snorted and twitched in his sleep. Steve hunched over and tried to smother the sound of his coughing so he could at least suffocate and die quietly.

Christine grinned. It was nice to watch someone else blush for a change. She patted him on the back and hopped to her feet.

"Goodnight, King Steve."