"Remember," Dustin mutters as he shoves the last box into the back of Dad's car, "don't get caught out there after dark. We don't know how many of them are out there."

I nod, helping Dustin close the trunk, both of us forcing the door shut with a slight flinch as the box crunches under the weight. "We've got it handled," I tell him, reaching out to fix the collar of his jacket. Dustin doesn't flinch away, letting me untuck the raincoat with a furrowed brow. "Steve and I will find him. You just have fun with Dad."

Dustin nods, a small smile forming on his face as Dad walks out of the house whistling. "You sure you can't come, Ace?" Dad asks, barely glancing at me as he opens the driver's side door.

"Can't, Dad," I swallow, forcing a smile. "Major math test on Monday." He can't control the face he makes—grades never really mattered to him, as long as I excelled at tennis. "Can't get that scholarship if I'm not passing my classes." I continue, though I know it doesn't change anything—part of me knows he doesn't care.

"Well, let's go, kiddo." Dad says to Dustin, wrapping an arm around me in goodbye. My shoulders stiffen, but I nod encouragingly at Dustin, really wanting him to go. I see the conflict in his face, his eyes darting between me and Dad, as if he's trying to decide if leaving is the right choice.

I step away from Dad, taking a few steps back toward the house, still nodding for Dustin to go. "I'll see you when you get home," I promise, watching them step into the car together, Dustin already chattering about something, while Dad laughs.

I watch the car pull out of the driveway, the sound of gravel crunching under the tires gradually fading into the distance. The cool air nips at my skin as I wrap my arms around myself, part of me wanting to chase after them, to be part of something normal and familiar despite the distance that's grown between us.

Turning back toward the house, I nod at Steve, who's been watching from the porch. It's strange to think that Steve Harrington, once the reigning King of Hawkins, is now my partner in this insane, monster-hunting mission. Life is so fucking weird.

"So, what's this I hear about a bat?" I ask, joining him on the front porch.

Steve smirks slightly, straightening up as I approach. "What? You don't carry around a bat with nails hammered into it?"

I follow him down the path to his car, zipping my raincoat to fight the chill. "We need to get back before it's dark," I continue, glancing up at the sky. The rain clouds seem to be moving away, allowing the low sun to peek through.

Steve shoots me a look over his shoulder, grabbing the bat from his trunk. "If you think I'm dumb enough to be caught out in the woods with one of those things running around, you're not as smart as you look."

I scoff, watching as he twirls the bat before resting it on his shoulder. "It's not just Dart," I admit, trying not to stare too long at the way his muscles ripple with the motion.

"What do you mean?" he asks, following me down the side of the house toward the woods behind our basement. Steve's footsteps fall into rhythm with mine, his gait easy and relaxed.

"I heard another," I say carefully, not wanting to bring up Billy or our date, "near the clearing out by Hess Farm."

"That's quite a ways from home," Steve observes, lifting a brow slightly as we move deeper into the trees. "What were you doing out there?"

"Stargazing," I reply, keeping my voice easy, "it's a good spot for it."

Steve laughs, mindlessly swinging the bat again. "I forgot," he says, glancing at me, "you're a closet nerd."

"What do you mean you forgot?" I ask, carefully stepping over a fallen tree. Steve reaches out his hand to help steady me. I ignore the warmth in his grip, quickly shoving my hands into my pockets as we continue deeper into the woods.

"I was friends with Carol and Tommy too," he reminds me, "you were the brain." He pauses for a moment, listening to some distant rustling to our left.

We freeze, Steve gripping the bat, his arm jutting out to make sure I stay behind him. My eyes scan the woods, but a light breeze ripples through, pushing fallen leaves past us. We relax, smiling awkwardly at each other.

"That's not saying much," I continue, thinking about Carol, Nicole, and Tommy. "I've seen dogs smarter than them."

As we continue our cautious trek through the woods, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the damp earth and fallen leaves, the initial tension eases, replaced by a quieter, mutual understanding between us.

Steve's voice breaks the silence, softer now that we're deep into the woods. "It's crazy, right?" he asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

I furrow my brow, unsure of what he means. "That we're looking for a monster in the woods? Or…?"

"Well, yeah," he laughs, but his tone shifts, becoming more serious. "But also, like… how everything's changed. Last year, all we cared about was I dunno – Tina's Halloween party and if Nancy actually liked me."

He trails off, and I can see he's struggling to put his thoughts into words. It's strange hearing this from Steve, someone who used to be the epitome of everything I thought mattered.

"Well," I sigh, smiling sheepishly, "that's still all I cared about this year."

"That Nancy liked you?" he teases, glancing at me with a grin.

I laugh, shaking my head. "No," I say, unable to hide my smile, "but Carol and Nicole do have an insane way of convincing you that shit like that is the only thing that matters."

"Exactly," he agrees, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I used to think being King Steve was everything – it was all I had."

I nod, understanding exactly what he means. My own image of perfection feels so small and unimportant now, but part of me still feels unsure, like I don't know how to navigate without it. "Does it get easier?" I ask, dragging my feet through the leaves, enjoying the crunch underfoot.

"Yeah," Steve says, nodding slowly, "it does."

The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable. It's the kind that comes when two people realize they're not so different after all. I glance at Steve, really looking at him this time, and it hits me how much we've both changed. We've both been forced to confront some ugly truths about ourselves, and maybe that's why we're here now, together, in these woods.

"So the last time you fought one of these," I ask, changing the subject, "how big was it?"

I imagine the slimy shedded skin we found when moving our dad's boxes from the basement, kicking it under the shelves so our dad couldn't discover it. It was difficult enough to convince him that Dart's escape route had been tunneled out by massive rats. I rub my face, forcing the stress away.

"Six feet?" he says, shrugging his shoulders, "at the least."

"The least?" I ask, my voice coming out as a whisper. I clear my throat, forcing the strength to come back before continuing, "Dart was like the size of a small dog."

"Yeah, well," Steve looks at me, studying my face, "The last one was the size of a large man."

The thought of a creature that size lurking somewhere in the woods sends a shiver down my spine, and I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill. The air between us feels heavy with the weight of what we're about to face. Steve catches my eyes, and for a moment, I see a flicker of understanding.

"So, a baseball bat is what is going to stand between us and – a slow, painful death?" I ask, but my voice sounds funny, a hint of humor blending into the severity of the situation.

"For now," he nods, a hint of a smile, "don't worry. We'll get you geared up for next time."

As we push further into the woods, the conversation fades, replaced by the growing awareness that we're not alone out here. The shadows stretch longer, the air growing colder with each step. My mind sharpens, every sound, every moment around us becoming a potential threat. I feel my hand reach out for Steve's arm, my grip tightening around the sleeve of his jacket. He straightens, pausing to survey the woods around us.

We move slowly, my feet stumbling over something in the leaves. Steve steadies me, kicking the leaves away to reveal a dead, half eaten fox. I flinch, stepping away, picturing Mews, trying to ignore the fresh blood that is seeping into the canvas of my tennis shoes.

"We should go," Steve mutters, glancing up towards the sky. The sun has dipped past the tree line now, dusting us with a beginning night sky. "Right now," he adds, grabbing my arm and pulling me back the way we came.

"No," I say, shaking my head, glancing towards the fresh carcass, "we're close."

"And it's dark," Steve argues, "you said – we can't be stuck out here in the dark and we don't know how many there are. I'm calling it, Lacy. We'll come back in the morning."

I hesitate, torn between the urgency of finding Dart before things get worse and the very real danger Steve's pointing out. The air is thick with the scent of fresh blood, but something in me refuses to back down, not when we're this close.

"I promised Dustin we'd find him," I insist, my voice firmer than I expected.

Steve's eyes narrow, scanning the growing darkness that's quickly swallowing up the last traces of daylight. He's weighing the risk, I can tell, and for a moment, I think he's going to agree with me. But then he sighs, shaking his head.

"Lacy, I get it," he says, his voice soft but resolute. "But we can't help Dustin if we're dead and we don't know what's out there."

His words hit hard, and I feel the weight of responsibility settle heavily on my shoulders. Steve's right – we need to be smart about this. I glance down at the dead fox again, bile rising in my throat, and I know we're not prepared to face whatever did this in the dark.

"Okay," I finally concede, my voice quiet. "But first thing tomorrow, we come back."

Steve nods, relief washing over his face. "First thing," he promises , tightening his grip on the bat as he takes the lead back through the woods.

The walk back to the woods is quieter now, the urgency from earlier giving way to the weight of what we just saw. The half-eaten fox, the tension in the air, the growing darkness – none of it sits right. Steve leads the way, his bat still slung over his shoulder, and I can't help but feel grateful that he's here with me.

As we break through the edge of the trees and step back into my backyard, I breathe a sigh of relief. The house feels like a haven in the drawing dusk, the soft glow of the porch light cutting through the shadows. But even that relief doesn't last long, because as soon as Steve and I turn the corner to the front of the house, I spot the Camaro blocking my driveway.

I swallow, glancing towards the porch where Billy Hargrove leans casually against the railing, cigarette smoke curling lazily around him as he leans against the porch railing, his eyes dark and intent. He doesn't move as Steve and I approach, but the smirk in his face grows. The porch light casts a soft flow around the edges of his face, making the sharp lines of his jaw look more defined.

Steve stiffens beside me, subtly shifting so he stands a little taller, his shoulders squaring off as if bracing for what's coming. Billy takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing on Steven with an amused glint.

"You bring all the boys of Hawkins into the woods?" Billy drawls, exhaling smoke as he eyes Steve up and down, "Or just the ones you find pretty?"

Steve's jaw clenches, but he doesn't take the bait immediately. I can feel the tension radiating from him, the air practically crackling between them. He crosses his arms, standing firm. "We're just working on a project, Hargrove," Steve replies, keeping his tone even, but there's an edge to his voice. "Not that it's any of your business."

Billy chuckles, the sound low and mocking, pushing off the railing and taking a step closer, his eyes never leaving Steve. "A project, huh?" he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm, clearly not believing him. "What's the topic?"

The muscles in Steve's jaw twitch, and I can see him trying to hold back. I know Steve; he's trying to be the bigger person, trying to avoid a fight, but Billy knows exactly which buttons to press. And he's enjoying every second of it.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Steve asks, his voice tight, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "Clearly Lacy's busy."

Billy's smirk falters for a split second, but it's enough. His eyes darken, and he takes a step forward, his posture shifting from casual to threatening in an instant. "Still hanging onto your crown, Harrington?" he sneers, voice low and dangerous. "I don't see her begging for me to go."

Steve doesn't back down. He matches Billy's intensity, stepping forward until there's barely any space between them. "Not yet," Steve says, his voice low, equally cold.

A knot tightens in my stomach as Steve's words hang in the air. The way he says it – like he's challenging Billy – it makes my skin prickle with anticipation and dread. I know if this continues, one of them is going to get hurt.

"I was wondering when you'd drop the act, Harrington." Billy laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Big bad, Steve Harrington, here to save the day."

Steve's eyes harden, his voice dropping. "I'm not going to stand here and argue with you. Lacy and I have things to take care of, so it's time for you to go."

Billy's smirk vanishes, replaced by something far more dangerous, his body taunt like a coiled spring. "You don't get to decide shit when it comes to her," he states, his tongue trailing dangerously over his teeth.

That's when I realize I have to step in.

"Steve, you should go," I say quickly, stepping between them before fists fly. But it's the look Steve gives me that hurts the most – like he expected more. His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he steps back, eyes never leaving Billy. He's holding back, but just barely.

Steve's right there, waiting for me to change my mind, to make things simple. But I don't, because I don't want simple. I can feel the chaos, the thrill that only Billy can give me and even though I know I'll regret this, I can't stop myself from leaning into it.

"I'll see you in the morning, Lacy." He mutters as he walks away, I can't shake the feeling that I'm making the wrong choice. His shoulders are tense, his fists clenched at his sides, and the way he says my name… colder than I've ever heard before. I should stop him, tell him to stay, but my feet stay rooted in place, and all I can think about is Billy's warmth behind me.

"You've got quite the fanclub, Henderson," Billy finally says, his voice low and amused.

I roll my eyes, refusing to turn and look at him, but a shiver travels up my spine. "We're just working on a school project," I repeat, but my words are missing their normal bite and I wonder if he can hear the tremble of the lie. "He's being helpful."

Billy turns me around to face him, a firm, but gentle grip on my wrist. His smirk softens into something more unreadable as he looks at me. He takes another drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke over his shoulder. "How sweet," he teases, but his voice is still low, almost predatory, "and here I thought you'd want my company tonight."

"You never called," I argue, crossing my arms over my chest.

"How would you know, princess?" he asks, flicking the ashes of his cigarette to the side. "Seems to me you and Harrington have been out for quite some time."

"Steve's a friend," I shrug, watching the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.

"Sure he is," Billy shrugs, but his gaze is still intense, "just out of nowhere."

"I don't need to explain anything to you, Billy." I snap, but my voice is weak. "Steve's my friend, that's it."

Billy tilts his head, studying me. His smirk is gone, replaced by something deeper, more serious, "So what? You'd rather be hanging out with Harrington?"

"No," I admit too quickly, pressing my lips into a firm line, "but I don't owe you anything, Billy."

Billy regards for a second, his smirk faltering slightly. "You wanna hangout now or are you going to give me another excuse?"

For a moment, I hesitate, the weight of everything – Dustin, Dart, Steve – hanging heavy in the back of my mind. But right now, at this moment all I can think about is the way Billy's eyes are burning into mine, the way my heart races when he's near.

Right now, all I can think about is the way Billy's eyes are burning into mine, but underneath it all, there's a small voice screaming – this is reckless. "I'm not busy," I whisper, letting go of the railing, permitting myself to lean forward until our faces are just inches from each other. This is reckless, but it feels too good to be wanted like this.

Billy licks his lips, dropping his head a bit, his lips lightly brushing against mine. I feel myself pull back slightly, bothered by the possessiveness, but Billy follows me, refusing to allow me to escape him. I step back into the railing, Billy's warmth, the lingering of his cigarette, the smell of his cologne clouding my judgment. Suddenly I am leaning into him, pressing to deepen the kiss.

Billy doesn't just kiss me. It's more than that. It's like he's claiming me, making sure that I know that I'm his. His hands brush the sides of my neck, it's gentle but there's a tension there – a quiet dangerous force that makes me shiver and I hate how much I like it. His fingers graze against my pulse in my neck, and it's like he knows exactly what he's doing to me. My body betrays me, leaning into the warmth of his touch, even as a small part of me screams that this isn't right. But it's Billy. His very existence makes me want to throw caution to the wind – every rational thought dissolving, replaced by the fire stirring inside me.

He deepens the kiss, and for a moment, everything else falls away – the monster in the woods, Steve, even my own doubts. It's just Billy. But there's something else there too, something dark simmering between us. His hands on my neck, his breath hot against my skin… it should scare me, but instead, it thrills me and I hate how much I want him right now. Just when I am about to invite him inside the house, Billy breaks away, leaving me gasping for the fresh night air.

Billy steps back, I feel a rush of cold where his warmth once was. His hand gestures toward the Camaro, and for a split second, my mind flashes to Dustin – to the promise I made. To Steve, walking away. But the moment passes, and I push it down, deeper, until all I can think about is the way Billy's eyes draw me in, and I follow him, knowing I've crossed a line I can't come back from.