TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains physical violence, sexually suggestive behavior, and the use of firearms. Please proceed with caution.

"Jesus Christ—help me out!"

"What am I supposed to do?!"

"Get the door, man!"

"Alright, I got the door—"

"—ew, Jesus—"

"God!"

Steve gave the slimy body of the Demodog one final push and then slammed the door shut so hard that the refrigerator rocked back a few inches. He and Dustin watched it apprehensively, ready for it to spring open again. When they were satisfied that the corpse would stay put, Steve sighed and ruffled Dustin's curls.

"Great work," Christine commended, slow-clapping from her perch on the counter. She'd been watching for the last few minutes, though she refused to help. "Nice form. Awesome teamwork."

Steve glared at her as he walked to the sink to wash his hands. He flicked her with a bit of slime first, making her squeal and scramble off the counter. She might've thrown something back if an argument hadn't broken out in the next room.

"You weren't in there, okay, Lucas?!" Mike snapped. "That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs!"

"Demodogs!" Dustin shouted unhelpfully, and Christine followed him into the living room.

"The chief will take care of her," Lucas was insisting as he and Max continued to clean up the broken glass.

"Yeah," Max scoffed, "like she needs protection."

"Listen, dude," said Steve, strolling in with a dish towel as he dried his hands, "Coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?"

"Okay, first of all, this isn't some stupid sports game," Mike said incredulously. "And second, we're not even in the game! We're on the bench!"

"Righ—so my point is…" Steve trailed off as everyone in the room turned to stare at him. "…right, yeah, we're on the bench. So, uh—there's nothing we can do."

He slung the towel over his shoulder in defeat, just as Dustin cocked his head to the side.

"That's not entirely true."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked him.

"I mean, these Demodogs, they have a hive mind," Dustin explained. "When they ran away from the bus, they were called away."

Lucas nodded, following along. "So if we get their attention—"

"Maybe we can draw them away from the lab," Max continued.

"And clear a path to the gate," Mike finished, his eyes widening with realization.

"Yeah," Steve said in annoyance, "and then we all die."

"Well, that's one point of view," said Dustin, drawing Steve's glare.

"No, that's not a 'point of view,' man. It's a fact. Right, Chris?"

Christine bit her lip. "Well—"

"I got it!"

Mike went charging past her, shoving his way into the kitchen. The rest of them followed, bewildered, as he made a beeline for the fridge—but rather than open it, he jabbed his finger at one of the crudely drawn intersections on Will's map.

"This is where the chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel, so—" Mike stood again, darting right back into the hall to show them another part of the map. "Here! Right here, this is like a hub. See how all the tunnels feed into here? Maybe if we set this on fire—"

"No, yeah—that's a no!" Steve shouted, but the kids weren't paying attention.

"—the Mind Flayer would call off his army!"

"They'd all come to stop us!"

"—Hey—"

"We circle back to the exit—"

"—Guys—"

"—and by the time they realize we're gone—"

"—Hey—"

"—El would be at the gate!"

"Hey hey hey!" Steve yelled, clapping his hands loudly. It was enough to get everyone's attention, at which point he shook his head and gestured vaguely to the map on the floor. "This is not happening."

Mike glared in protest. "But—"

"No no no no no! No buts! I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe and that's exactly what I plan on doing. We're staying here, on the bench, and we're waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everyone understand that?"

"This isn't a stupid sports game!" Mike argued.

"I said does everybody understand that?!" Steve repeated, whipping the dish towel off his shoulder and brandishing it fiercely. "I need a yes."

No one said 'yes.' The kids all exchanged grumpy looks, Max rolling her eyes so hard that her head tipped straight back. Mike hopped to his feet and brushed by Steve to stand in front of Christine.

"Chrissy, come on," he pleaded. "Last year, you jumped through a portal just to find Will! We have to do this. It's a good plan, and—"

"It is not a good plan," Steve snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "A good plan is staying here and making sure you don't die, which is our only priority right now. Right, Christine? …I said right, Christine…?"

He turned to her in alarm when he didn't get an answer. Christine was staring at Mike, still chewing on her bottom lip. Steve stomped over and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Christine! Hey! No, right?!"

"Steve—"

"No! No no no! No 'Steve!' No nothing!"

"Steve, if El dies, we all die," Christine argued. "She and Hopper can't take on all the dogs alone."

"Neither can we!" Steve bellowed back at her. "We have one bat, one gun, and four—count 'em, four—unarmed children!"

"Then the kids don't come. I'll do it."

"You're not going alone!" Dustin said at once. "That's suicide!"

"Dust," she sighed, "I'm not getting you guys killed—"

"And I'm not sending you to die!"

"Look, we have to do something," Mike snapped. "If we go together—"

"No one is going anywhere! This is insane! This is—"

The room descended into chaos once more, everyone shouting over each other as they argued best course of action. The fighting only stopped when there was a thunderous roar outside the house—but this time, it wasn't an animal.

Max was the first to the window, Lucas hot on her heels. Her red hair glowed as light poured in the window and, even though she was backlit, the terror was clear in her eyes when she turned around.

"It's my brother. He—he can't know I'm here. He'll kill me! He'll kill us!"

She clutched Lucas's hand, and in an instant, Steve was walking for the door.

"I'll take care of it, okay? Just stay down—"

"No." Christine was faster, beating Steve to the door and pushing him back with a hand on his chest. "I'll do it."

Steve's eyes went dark at once. "Christine—"

"I got it," she assured him. "If I can take down a Demogorgon, I can handle a rowdy teenage boy, remember?"

She pressed on his chest again, moving him a few more steps back; it took more effort than it should have. Steve wasn't pushing his way forward, but it seemed like every muscle in his body had locked, refusing to give her an inch without a fight. The car engine died outside, along with the blaring rock music, and Christine shot a quick look at the kids.

"Stay away from the windows and hide Max if you have to. I'll be back."

"Chrissy…" Max wrung her hands together, her knuckles white. "Just…be careful."

"I know. I've got something he wants, right?"

Christine forced herself to smile; before anyone could argue, she slipped out the front door.

It was unbearably cold, so much worse than it had been earlier. Christine wanted nothing more than to bundle up in her flannel and hide back inside, but she didn't let herself. Instead, she faced the door and snuck a hand down the front of her tank top, pushing her boobs up as high as they'd go. She fluffed her hair, smacked her lips, and gritted her teeth in determination before she turned to face the blue Camaro waiting for her in the driveway. Billy was already stepping out of the car, a glowing cigarette trapped between his teeth, which were bared in a smile.

"Well, I'll be damned…"

"You know," Christine mused, strolling down the path as casually as she could, "the note was cute, but this might be pushing it."

Billy's grin widened. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and blew a long plume of smoke into the night air, folding his arms on top of the car door as Christine walked up on the other side.

"Sandra Dee," he sang, peering down his nose at her. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Babysitting. Although, I'm tempted to say you already knew that."

He raised an eyebrow, eyes roving her face in a way that made her hold her breath. Yesterday, if Billy had looked at her like that, she would have been all different kinds of nervous; now she had bigger concerns. It was easier to flirt with him when she wasn't as worried about what he thought about her. She was being forward, but so long as it kept his attention on her instead of the house behind her, that was just fine.

Billy leaned forward, close enough that his breath washed over her face. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I'm not here for you."

"Oh…" Christine's face fell and she shuffled back a few steps, playing up her bashfulness. "Sorry, I—that makes sense. I just thought—"

"Those kids you're watching," he continued, closing the car door, "middle school guys? Wheeler, Sinclair, and all that?"

Christine tensed. "Yeah, actually. Why?"

"They're friends with my stepsister, Max. I know kids go a little wild on the weekends, but I haven't seen her all day, and my parents are startin' to get worried."

"Oh, God. Um—well, have you checked the arcade? Nine times out of ten, that's where I find the boys when they run off."

"Yeah, I did," he said with a performative sigh. "I've been drivin' all over town trying to find her. I thought maybe the boys could point me in the right direction."

"Wait, you thought she was here?" Christine allowed herself a tiny smirk. "Uh, no. See, Sundays are for Dungeons and Dragons—which means it's impossible to breathe with all the nerdy in there. Trust me, no girl in her right mind would wanna be in that house right now."

"You were," Billy accused with a smirk.

"Who said I was in my right mind?"

Christine smiled and walked around him, close enough to brush up against his side. She inspected the exterior of the Camaro, watching Billy's reflection in the window as he turned around to watch her. He took another drag from his cigarette and propped his elbow on the hood of the car.

"You know, Christine, no one likes a tease."

"A tease?" This time, her laugh was genuine. "Wow—okay, I can honestly say, that's a new one for me."

"What else do you call it?" he asked innocently. "I compliment you, you blow me off. I invite you over, you stand me up—"

"I did not stand you up. I told you I had to work."

"And I told you to come after. Now you're out here, playin' coy with those pretty brown eyes, and it's got me wondering: what are we gonna do about that?"

Christine hated the way it made her heart skip a beat. She hated the heat creeping up the back of her neck and she hated the chill that went down her spine. She had to remind herself that this was the goal; this was what Billy wanted, and Christine wanted Billy focused on her. So, ignoring her pounding heart, she leaned her back against the Camaro, one hand idly playing with the neckline of her tank top while she hid her face under her hair.

"I thought about it."

"Thought about what?" Billy asked in a husky voice.

"Stopping by." She shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I really was busy Friday, but Saturday…I don't know. I figured you weren't sitting around waiting for me. I didn't want to interrupt you and Tina or Nicole or whoever, but…I thought about it."

She kept her eyes on her shoes, even when Billy pushed himself off the car. He shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it on the hood, then he circled around to stand in front of Christine. The gravel crunched as he planted his feet on either side of her, both arms coming up to box her in as he leaned heavily on his car. When Christine finally summoned the courage to look up at him, the tip of his cigarette nearly brushed her face.

"So," he whispered, blue eyes boring into hers, "what else did you think about?"

Christine steeled herself. With one hand, she grazed the fabric of his red shirt, pausing over the necklace that dangled around his neck, exposed where he'd left half the buttons undone, then reached up and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. She flicked it into the dirt between his legs and smothered the embers with the heel of her shoe. She raised her chin in defiance and let her eyes drop shamelessly to his lips, which were already pulling into a wolfish grin. His tongue darted out, running along the sharp edge of his teeth, his bottom lip, and then—

"Hey!"

Billy looked up sharply as the front door slammed shut, and Christine's eyes fluttered closed in defeat. She shivered as Billy stepped out of her personal space with a laugh.

"Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?"

"Yeah, it's me," Steve said flatly, marching across the yard. "Don't cream your pants."

"Steve," Christine said in a clipped, commanding tone, "go back inside."

"No."

"Damn," Billy chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced between them. "Looks like I'm not the only one doing some creamin', huh, King Steve? You finally took my advice! I gotta admit, I didn't think you had it in you. Or, sorry"—he turned apologetically to Christine—"I didn't think you'd have it in you."

Christine could only blink in surprise as Steve took a menacing step forward. "Shut the fuck up, man."

"Ooh, alrighty then!" Billy's tongue snuck out again as he leaned closer to Steve to stage whisper, "How was the lap dog, Harrington? You make her howl?"

Christine leapt into action just in time to catch Steve by the shoulders before he could take a swing. He struggled in her arms as Billy began to cackle.

"Wow! That's nice! You train her to fix all your fights, bud?"

"Stop," Christine snapped, whipping around to glare at Billy, "I don't know what you're talking about, but this—"

"Aw, we're talking about you! I mean, you and Steve playing house, getting' freaky while the kids suck on their juice boxes—that's some porno level kink, sweetheart."

"Hey, watch your damn mouth!" Steve shouted as he tried to sidestep Christine once more.

She threw out an arm to hold him back and fixed Billy with her own even stare. "I think you should leave."

"My pleasure," he said, holding up his hands in surrender, "but…not without my sister."

"Billy, I already told you, she's not here!"

"Really? Then who is that?"

He nodded over her shoulder. Steve and Christine turned back to look at the house, where four silhouettes were watching them from the window. The kids ducked, but not before Christine's heart sank into her ribs. She scrambled to think of an excuse, any excuse that would buy them some time, but Billy struck first.

Steve grunted as Billy caught him in the chest, shoving him so hard that he crumpled to the ground. Christine yelped and stumbled out of the way as Billy advanced on Steve, his playful smirk long gone.

"I told you to plant your feet."

He kicked Steve in the stomach, and just the sound was enough to make Christine gasp in pain. Steve groaned and rolled over onto his side, curling up into a ball. Christine's first impulse was to run forward and help him, but she forced herself to swallow her concern. Instead, she moved toward the house, planting herself between Billy and the front door before he could take another step.

Billy's smile grew back, but there was an edge to it this time Christine hadn't seen before. He approached her casually, feinting left and right to make her jump; though she flinched, she held her ground in front of the door.

"Not bad," Billy complimented. "You got more fire than your boyfriend, anyway."

"You're not getting in this house."

"Oh? And uh…how you gonna stop me?"

Christine clenched her fists. She knew full well that she had no way to stop him. Without her gun or Steve's bat, just be her against Billy…it didn't take a genius to figure those odds. Taking out Tommy has been easy—he was a total pushover, and she'd also had the element of surprise—but Billy was a different story. He was bigger, meaner, and Christine knew that not an ounce of his strength was for show. If she fought him, she would lose. But what other choice did she have?

Billy moved first, breaking right so he could dart around her. Christine jumped at him, trying to force him back, but Billy grabbed her around the waist and used her momentum to throw her past him. She skidded into the dirt, only down for a moment before she was scrambling after him on her hands and knees. She caught up right before he made it to the step, and clutched at his leg to slow him down. It tripped him up, but it wasn't enough to stop him.

Billy yanked his ankle out of her grasp, kicking wildly to shake her off. Pain exploded down her spine as his heel collided, first with her shoulder, then with her hand, and she fell back with a squeak. In two steps, Billy was inside the house with the door closed behind him, all before she'd even caught her breath.

"Chrissy?!"

Christine could only whine in response to Steve's choked voice. It was a few seconds before she could move, a few more before she could push herself up onto her elbows.

"Chris? Are you—"

"I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm gonna get that asshole."

"No, hang on," Steve coughed, still gasping for air. "Chris, wait—"

There wasn't time to wait. A crash echoed inside the house, followed by overlapping shouts from the party. With a rush of adrenaline, Christine clawed her way to her feet and forced herself to limp the last few feet to the door. She fumbled with the handle and had to lean heavily on the wood as it swung inward and collided with the wall.

The kids had fled the living room and piled into the hallway. Christine counted them on instinct, her heart leaping when she only found three: Dustin, Mike, and Max.

"Billy, stop!" Max was shouting, looking further into the kitchen. "Let him go!"

"Chrissy! Lucas—he has—"

Dustin didn't have time to finish: Christine was already sprinting forward. She heard Lucas shout, heard Billy grunt, and then he stumbled back into her line of sight. With an incoherent scream, Christine lunged forward and tackled him into the kitchen table, which promptly splintered and cracked under their weight. Billy grunted and groaned again when Christine landed on top of him, deliberately digging her joints into his ribs.

"Lucas, run," she ordered over her shoulder. "Steve's outside, he—fuck!"

She squealed as Billy grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back at a bad angle. He used her moment of surprise to throw her to the side and, in a few quick moves, had her pinned beneath him on the linoleum floor.

"Damn, Walcott," he panted in her ear, his knees digging into her hips. "If you wanted to tussle, all you had to do was ask."

"Fuck you," Christine spat, squirming to get away from him.

"Aw, not in front of the kids."

Billy pulled back just enough to wink at her. The next second, his head was yanked out of her line of sight.

"GET OFF HER!"

Steve had finally recovered. He seized Billy by the back of the head and slammed him to the ground. Down on his knees, he punched Billy once, twice, still shouting with every blow.

"You don't touch her! You don't touch any of them!"

It looked like he had the upper hand until Billy kneed him in the gut, forcing the air out of him again. Steve folded, and Billy slid back across the floor, pulling himself up on the counter while the kids rescued their babysitters. Lucas and Max rushed to support Steve while Dustin and Mike helped Christine to her feet. She herded all of them back into the hall, giving Steve the space to deal with Billy, but ready to jump in at a moment's notice.

Billy looked like he was having the time of his life. He whooped loudly once he found his footing, wiping the blood from under his nose and brandishing a finger at Steve.

"Ha—looks like you've got some fire in you after all, huh?! I've been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone's been telling me so much about."

He walked forward until he was standing toe to toe with Steve. They stared each other down, each puffing their chests out, practically bleeding testosterone. After several tense seconds of silence, Steve raised a hand and jabbed two fingers against Billy's chest.

"Get out."

Billy took a step back. He considered Steve with the ghost of a smile—then swung.

Steve was faster; he ducked, then slammed his fist into Billy's nose. The boys burst into cheers behind Christine as Billy staggered back.

"Yes! Kick his ass, Steve!"

"Murder the sonofabitch!"

"Get that shithead!"

Steve punched Billy again and again, brutal hits that had Christine flinching despite her desperate desire to watch Billy go down—but the whole time, Billy just laughed. It was unnerving to see him spitting up blood, staggering around the kitchen while he cackled maniacally. He sank back against the sink, groping for purchase, and Steve hung back to let him breathe.

That was a mistake.

In a flash, Billy had snatched one of the clean bowls from the drying board and smashed it over Steve's head. Steve tumbled back, tripping over the remnants of the kitchen table and nearly wiping out on the floor. He struggled to find his footing, but Billy wasn't going to make the same mistake he had.

"Steve!"

Christine shoved him out of the way, just in time for Billy's fist to collide with her cheek. Her head hit the wall with a bang and she immediately dropped to the floor.

For a moment, she couldn't see anything. She couldn't hear anything either. The ringing in her ears was so loud that she could barely make out the bangs and crashes, the screams of the party, the person who was shouting in her face. It was all a blur as she grabbed feebly at the wall, trying to stay upright. Fleetingly, she remembered feeling the same way last year, clutching onto consciousness after the Demogorgon had thrown her across the room. She really needed to stop going to the Byers' house.

"Chrissy?! Christine! Chrissy, answer me!"

Dustin's voice was so full of desperation that he squeaked with every word. Christine tried to blink him into focus, but even then, she could only see one side of his face.

"Oh, shit! Jesus Christ—shit! Christine! Chrissy, he's gonna kill Steve! Help! Billy's—"

"Ge'me up…"

She grabbed Dustin's shoulders and he pulled as hard as he could to get her to her feet while someone else pushed her up from behind. They spun her in the direction of the living room, where blurry shapes were writhing on the floor. Christine couldn't keep them in focus, but she could see clearly enough to make out Billy's blonde hair and red shirt. He was on top, laughing, and that was all she needed to know.

It was the same rush of adrenaline she'd felt outside. She didn't need Dustin to hold her up. She didn't need the kids to explain what was going on. She didn't need the shotgun or the bat or anything else.

Christine screamed and charged again. She sank her fingers into Billy's curls and threw her full weight on his back, ramming his face straight into the carpet, then yanking it back and slamming him down again. Billy threw his shoulders back, knocking her backward, but this time, Christine was prepared.

She wrapped herself around him and held on tight—one hand yanking his hair, the other clawing at his face, her legs winding around his waist and doing the best she could to pound her heels into his crotch. He rolled back and forth in an attempt to shake her off, and in response, Christine tightened her grip and sank her teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Billy howled—half pain, half laughter—and slammed his back into the ground, knocking her head into the floor. The collision sent a new wave of pain through her head, but she held on as tight as she could, her nails sinking into Billy's skin until she drew blood.

"Fuckin' bitch!"

Billy snatched her hand and bent it backward, making her yelp and finally succeeding in breaking free. He whirled around and backhanded her so hard, Christine's teeth sliced the inside of her cheek. She grabbed at the papers on the floor as Billy got ahold of her ankles, dragging her back across the room as he began to laugh again.

"Whoo! Alright, Sandra Dee! You wanna play?! Let's play!"

Christine's fingers closed around something solid just as Billy grabbed her hips.

"It's Psycho Bitch, asshole."

WHAM!

She cracked the video camera over Billy's head, small pieces of plastic flying in every direction. Christine brought the camera down again, gripping the handle and wielding it like a club, and she didn't stop swinging until Billy finally knocked what was left of it out of her hand. She pushed herself upright and prepared to fight back—but Billy had gone still.

He was still kneeling above her, swaying on the spot with his hands hovering around his face. The plastic had cut him in a few places, and there were half-moon dents where Christine had gouged him with her nails. Blood seeped from under his hair, into his eyes, and down over his cheeks. He spat a wad out onto the floor, then snarled at her with teeth painted crimson red.

"You're dead, bitch."

Before he could make another move, there was a sickening squelch as someone stabbed him in the neck.

Christine scrambled back across the floor, gaping at Max as she released her hold on the needle. Billy followed Christine's gaze over his shoulder and staggered to his feet. He was so busy glaring at Max, he didn't even register the syringe until he was fully standing. It took him a few tries to pull it out from his neck.

"The hell is this?"

The needle clattered to floor—the plunger down and the barrel empty. The drugs they'd been using to sedate Will were completely gone.

"You little shit, what did you do?" Billy demanded, slurring his words as he began to sway. "W-what did you…?"

He took two steps toward Max before he collapsed, keeling over backwards and narrowly missing Christine's legs. Christine jumped to her feet, terrified that he'd make another grab for her ankles, but Billy was too disoriented to fight back. His arms flopped around at his sides, his head rolling back as he began laughing again in that chilling, unhinged way. Christine was too dizzy to move—but Max didn't have that problem.

She walked into the dining room and returned with Christine's shotgun. Pressing the stock to her cheek, she aimed the gun between Billy's legs.

"From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone," she said evenly. "Do you understand?"

"Screw you," Billy grumbled. "Like you know how to use that…"

Max held his gaze as she pumped the action and clicked off the safety. Christine half-fell, half-dove for cover as Max fired a shot out the broken window, the bang impossibly loud in the small room. She readied the gun again and reaffixed her aim on Billy's groin.

"Say you understand!" she shouted. "Say it!"

Billy licked his lips, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. "…I understand…"

"What?" Max prompted again.

"I—I understand," Billy repeated.

He tried to glare at her, but his face was already going slack. With a sigh, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

There were several seconds where no one moved. Max kept the shotgun aimed at Billy, as if she expected him to shoot up and grab her by surprise. When she was satisfied that he was well and truly unconscious, she clicked the safety back on the shotgun and dropped it on the table.

"Are you okay?" she asked Christine.

Now that the immediate danger had passed, her voice was timid, her hands shaking at her sides. Christine wanted to comfort her, but at the moment, all she could do was stare.

"…Well, fuck, Max."

An extremely inappropriate breath of laughter slipped out from Christine's mouth, and she quickly raised a hand to hide her grin. Max gave her a sheepish smile, which only grew when Lucas was the next to break the silence.

"That…was awesome," he gasped, clapping both hands to his head.

"I KNOW!" Dustin shouted. "HOLY SHIT! You were just like, 'BANG!' And Christine was like, 'Yeah, take this, asshole!' And Steve—"

"Fuck—Steve!" Christine leapt across Billy's body, tripped, found herself on the floor, and crawled the rest of the way to Steve's side where he laid motionless on the carpet. "Steve, can you—oh, shit…"

Steve looked even worse than Billy. Blood was smeared from his nose all the way down to his chin, and his whole face was starting to swell. Christine could see the bruises already forming, blood pooling under the skin where Billy had beaten and broken the blood vessels. Even on the surface, the skin had started to split, and abrasions were scattered all over Steve's cheeks and forehead, a long cut along his jaw from one of Billy's rings. It was a miracle his nose hadn't broken and gone straight up into his brain.

Christine laid a frantic hand on Steve's chest, ducking down to assure that he was still breathing. When she was certain he was still alive, her whole body shuddered in relief, and she pressed her head into Steve's chest in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.

"Here." Mike dropped down next to her, dropping an armful of medical supplies on the floor. "This was everything I could find in the bathroom."

"Thanks." Christine grabbed the empty ice bag at once and chucked it across the room toward Dustin, her aim woefully off. "Dust, can—"

"Ice! Got it! I got it!"

"I'll get a towel," Lucas offered and they both scurried into the kitchen.

"Is he okay?" asked Max, kneeling down on Christine's other side.

"He's—it's fine," she answered, brushing Steve's hair out of his face as gently as she could. "He just—he lost another fight. He'll be fine. It's okay."

"Are you okay?" Mike asked insistently. "When Billy hit you—"

"I'll live," Christine assured him, even though her head was still pounding so hard that it was difficult to keep her eyes open. "Assuming any of us do…"

It took them a while to clean up Steve. Lucas returned with four wet washcloths, supplying them to Christine one at a time as she tried to wash the blood from Steve's face. He grumbled blearily the entire time, which escalated to whining when she tried to disinfect the cuts. Mike had scavenged three brightly colored band aids from the bottom of a drawer, which didn't do much to cover the damage, but Christine supposed it was better than nothing.

Dustin sat down dutifully next to Steve's head, holding the ice pack in place as if his life depended on it.

"What do we do about Billy?" Max asked at last, shooting a nervous look back at her stepbrother.

"Nothing." Christine wiped her hands off on the last wash cloth and dropped it into the discarded pile. "We're getting out of here."

Mike's head whipped up as Lucas asked, "We are?"

"Yeah. That stuff kept Will knocked out, but Billy's bigger. I have a feeling he's gonna m-metal—metabolize it a lot faster, and we do not want to be here when he does. Besides, Mike's right. If El gets hurt, we're all dead. We need to do something."

"Okay," Mike said slowly, "but how are we getting out of here?"

"We can…take Steve's car."

Christine reached for Steve's pocket for the keys, only for Mike to snatch her wrist. She wobbled on her knees as he forced her hand higher.

"Um, no. You can't drive."

"Of course I can, Mike," she snapped. At least, she tried to snap, but the words weren't coming out as sharp as she'd intended. "I don't have a car, but I have my license."

"You have your permit," he corrected, "and even if you did have your license, Billy just beat the shit out of you. You can't drive like this."

"Seriously, Mike. I'm fine."

"Okay, fine. Grab my hand." Christine thought he was about to help her up, but he dropped her wrist instead. He raised his fist in front of her face and waved it back and forth, which made the room seem very blurry again. "Come on. Catch my hand, Chrissy."

"Mike, stop—you—stop it!" His chest was a big enough target that she could shove him without too much trouble. "I am driving. You are not driving. You don't know how to drive."

"I do," Max offered. "My dad used to let me drive his car around empty parking lots to practice."

"Seriously?" Lucas asked in admiration. "That's awesome."

"So Max can drive us," said Dustin. "We'll follow the map and—"

"No, she—stop saying that. Max is not driving. I am driving." Christine winced as she got to her feet. Every single muscle in her body ached, her own bruises beginning to set in, but she tried to stay as steady as possible as she looked at each skeptical boy in turn. "You three know this house better than I do. If we're gonna do this, we need to be ready. Find rope, find gasoline, goggles, scarves, and something to carry it all in."

"Goggles?" Dustin asked, wrinkling his nose. "Why do we need goggles?"

"You always wear eye protection during an experiment. The Upside Down is a biohazard waiting to happen, and even if it wasn't, we're setting a live fire in an enclosed space that's gonna fill with smoke fast. I don't need you running into a wall when you get ash in your eye and can't find a way out."

"I'm not gonna…no, that's a good point, okay."

"What about me?" asked Max.

"You're gonna help me get Steve in the car."

"Wait, what?" Mike wrinkled his nose. "We're taking him?"

Christine glowered at him, but she didn't get a chance to argue.

"Of course we're taking him!" Dustin said furiously. "Are you insane?!"

"We are not leaving him here," Max agreed at once. "If Billy wakes up, he'll kill him."

"And Steve can help," Lucas added, which made Mike roll his eyes.

"Just because Chrissy likes him—"

"No, seriously, Mike. You didn't see him before at the junkyard. He might suck at fighting humans, but he was awesome with the Demodogs."

"He saved us," Dustin said stubbornly. "That makes him an honorary party member, and we're not leaving him behind. Right, Chrissy?"

All of the kids turned to look at her, and Christine blinked in surprise. She'd been prepared to put her foot down on the subject, but having the kids come to Steve's defense was not something she'd been expecting. She was starting to realize just how long the day had been.

"Um…right." She nodded, pulling herself together. "If one of us goes, all of us go. So you boys grab your shit, and Max and I will start the car. Let's fry this thing."

She headed for the front door, ignoring the dubious looks the children were sharing around her. If she didn't acknowledge them, she could pretend she was still the one in control—at least for a few more minutes.