A/N: Goodness me, hello, hello, hello! It's been WAY too long since the last update, I'm sorry you guys. Life got busy and the like, but I love this story (and Steve), so even if I take forever to post, please know that I don't plan on abandoning it. Hope this turned out okay, I had to re-read my previous chapters to get back into focus. Anyway, I'm currently working on chapter 7, so hopefully I'll have that one up by next week some time. Okay, I'm done blabbering. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things or any of its related characters. That property belongs to the Duffer brothers and Netflix.

Recommended chapter song: Stand Or Fall by the Fixx

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday Part 2

The distant howls brought on a new, deep chill even in the already frigid night air. Everywhere was nowhere. Dread was the feeling. It was curled tight in the chest, on the verge of leaping out in a strike, like some sort of viper. There was the shadow. Immense. Hideous. Silent malice emanating from it like radio waves. It was on the hunt, seemingly having caught a scent. So angry, yet so eager-

"Dustin!"

Dustin sat bolt upright with a wild, hoarse cry. He gripped at his chest, gasping for a breath. He could feel himself drenched in sweat.

"Dusty! Dusty, Sweetie, it's okay! It's me! Momma! I'm here."

Dustin blinked a few times. He found himself focusing better on the figure sat before him on the bed, a flood of relief washing through him as her gentle hands cupped his face.

Miss Henderson had wide, worried eyes. "Dusty, was that... another nightmare?"

Dustin tried to wet his lips, but his mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert.

"Yes, but I'm okay. It was a normal type of nightmare, so no worries, Mom." he said, his voice broken and scratchy.

"Oh, Honey, this is the fifth time in the last couple of weeks. Don't you think it's time to maybe see a doctor or-"

"No, Mom!" Dustin cut across her sharply, taking her hands and bringing them down to rest between the both of them. "They're just stupid dreams. I'm absolutely fine."

"Dustin, please, you're shaken by these dreams. I can tell," said Miss Henderson softly, stroking her thumb over his hand. "Honey, there's no shame in seeking help. You don't have to keep living like this."

"It's just a bout, Mom. It'll go away soon, just like last time." said Dustin.

"And what if you get another bout in a month or two? What if it's worse? It's not normal, Sweetie pie." countered Miss Henderson, her eyes shining with a hint of wetness.

"Mom."

"Dusty."

Dustin could barely look into his mother's kind, tearful eyes for fear his mask may fall and he would start crying also. He wished he could sometimes, but Dustin knew his mother didn't need that. He took a steadying breath, forcing himself to get a grip.

"Mom, I swear to God and on my life that I am completely okay. They're dumb nightmares, probably caused from puberty or something. You know, I am fourteen, and all of the hormones and stuff..." said Dustin, waving his hands around.

"Yes, of course, I know this is a big time for change in your body. I get that. It's just, I've never heard of nightmares or-" Miss Henderson was saying before Dustin interrupted her yet again.

"Mom, you need to stop worrying about this! I. Am. FINE. Okay?"

Miss Henderson bit her lip, turning her gaze down to the wrinkled bed coverings.

"Why were you in my room anyway?" wondered Dustin just then.

"Well, I was going to feed Tews her breakfast, but the food bin was empty. You told me you and Steve were going to pick up some food from the market on the way home last night, so I came to ask if you had." said Miss Henderson.

"Shit!" Dustin slapped his hand to his forehead. "We did, Mom, but I totally forgot about it by the time we got home. It's still in the back of Steve's car."

"Oh, well, he'll be over later, right? I can just give Tews some tuna until then." said Miss Henderson, rising from the bed.

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, okay. Sorry, Mom."

"Dusty, don't you dare say sorry. I love you so much, Sweetheart," said Miss Henderson, bending over to kiss the top of his curly head. "If you're able to, why don't you go back to sleep for a bit? First week of high school is always tiring."

Dustin glanced at his clock on the bedside table, seeing it was almost nine.

"Nah, I'm getting up I think." he said.

Miss Henderson gave him a long look. "Okay, Honey. I made some toast and scrambled eggs. They should still be pretty warm."

"Sounds delicious!" exclaimed Dustin with a big smile.

"They are! Okay, well, I'll let you get dressed. See you in a second."

When Miss Henderson had left, Dustin threw his covers off and rolled out of bed. Running straight for the walkie that lay beside his pet tortoise Yertle's tank, Dustin snatched it up and made sure he was on the correct station before yelling into the mouthpiece,

"Happy Birthday, Harrington! Ready to party it up tonight?!"

Dustin awaited the inevitable dry reply from Steve.

But when a few silent seconds turned into a full minute, Dustin figured he'd give it another go.

"Hello?! Are you really still sleeping? Stop being a slug, Steve!"

Still there was silence. Dustin frowned down at the walkie.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll try you in a bit when you've woken up. Dusty out." Dustin spoke once more into the walkie, deflated.

Walking into the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in classic Dustin-style attire, Dustin took a seat at the dining table where a plate of reheated eggs and toast sat with a cold glass of orange juice alongside. His mother was on the telephone as she went about cleaning after her cooking mess, Tews mewing at her feet. Dustin dug into the breakfast with less vigor than he should have, his thoughts centered on the plans of the day and willing himself to forget that stupid nightmare. It was pretty hard though this time for some reason.

Thinking about it made him so uneasy that he momentarily regretted not mentioning anything to his friends. Dustin shook his head at his plate, finishing the last bit of toast. He was letting it get to him and it had to stop. He gulped down the juice, gathered the empty dishes and carried them over to the sink to clean them.

"Oh, Dusty, you don't have to do that!" said Miss Henderson, hanging the phone up.

"Mom, relax, please!" ordered Dustin exasperatedly, rinsing his plate. "I'm totally capable of cleaning up my shit."

"I know, I know." said Miss Henderson, bending and scooping Tews into her arms.

Once the dishes were done, Dustin picked up the telephone and dialed Steve's number in a motion so natural it had to have occurred countless times beforehand. While Miss Henderson strolled away with Tews, cooing to and rocking the cat, Dustin paced the kitchen as the ringing stretched on for Steve's side of the line.

"Son of a bitch, Harrington! Answer. Your. Phone!" the boy hollered into the receiver when it was time to leave a message.

Dustin hung the phone up again, flying past his mother and down the hallway to his bedroom. He could hear her calling after him with concern, but Dustin was too focused on the fact that his friend may have been in trouble to care much about it. He grabbed his walkie and backpack, then raced back down the hall, across the living room and to the front door.

"Dustin?! What-where are you going?!" Miss Henderson inquired with alarm.

"Steve's! I'll be back in a bit!" said Dustin breathlessly, hurrying out the door.

"All done? Took you long enough, Chief."

With thoughts abuzz in his mind worse than hours before, Hopper barely heard Officer Callahan as he emerged from his office. The brooding police chief rubbed at his left eyebrow, walking over to retrieve his jacket from the coatrack.

"Hey, so Chief, if we get any more word on magical Russian girls, is the protocol to contact you first?" said Powell, jokingly.

Callahan snickered into his coffee.

"Yes." said Hopper.

Both deputies blinked in surprise at their superior.

"Weird shit is my expertise. Anything else-" Hopper shrugged on the jacket and zipped it up. "You two can handle it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a house to paint."

"Have fun." said Flo flatly, scribbling down some sort of to-do list.

"Absolutely." replied Hopper.

He snatched the last bagel from the box on her desk as he passed her on the way out the door.

Outside the day was overcast, but held no Autumn crispness in the air just yet. Hopper got into his blazer, revved it up and departed within seconds from the station. Driving along and munching on the bagel, Hopper wondered if it would hurt to take Jane over to the Byers with him today. He quickly reprimanded himself on the thought, though. Jane was nearly there. Just a teensy but longer, and she would be able to go to school, hang at the mall, go bowling-all under his heavy supervision, of course. No use in jeopardizing it for her now.

On the way back to the cabin to make a check on Jane, Hopper drove through downtown Hawkins, and everything was pretty normal from what he could see. Hopefully it stayed this way.

There went that creeping feeling again... Hopper shook his head, cursing at himself.

Stopped at a red light, Hopper adjusted his radio station and happened to look out of his window just in time to see Steve Harrington making his way down the sidewalk with shopping bags in each hand. Hopper rolled down his window and shouted at him. Steve jumped around, dropping his bags and looking frightened for his life. Hopper chuckled, then turned his car about when the light changed to green. He parked next to the sidewalk and beckoned Steve. The young man approached in a strange fashion, like he was very uncertain about something.

"Hey, early Christmas shopping?" said Hopper, pointing at the bags.

"Sure." said Steve, smiling weirdly.

"Yeah... So, what time should I expect you to be at the Byers'?" queried Hopper.

Steve gave Hopper a dumbfounded look, but swiftly recovered with a startling hard face, speaking in a serious tone- "It's my birthday. The kids are having a party planned."

Hopper's brow rose. "Your birthday? Shit, sorry, Kid, I didn't realize. The rugrats are throwing you a party, huh?"

"Yes. I, well, I have to go. Bye." said Steve, and immediately started walking again.

"Hey!" Hopper called at his back.

Steve halted and looked around, frowning.

"You okay, Kid?" wondered Hopper, worry lines appearing on his forehead.

Steve looked at him for a few moments before nodding and turning away. Hopper watched the boy shuffle down the sidewalk in a hurry, nibbling his lip. There was something off about him and Hopper didn't like it at all. He was about to get out of the blazer and go after the teen, when a familiar beeping transmitted through his radio.

'Where. Are. You?'

"Jane." Hopper sighed to himself.

Making a mental note to talk to Steve later, Hopper checked his mirror before pulling away from the sidewalk and back into traffic.

Dirt was flying behind Dustin as he sped on his bike down the desolate road that led to Hopper's trailer where Steve presently lived, swearing under his heavy breaths all the while. When he eventually reached his destination, Dustin hopped off his bike, leaving it to fall in the gravel driveway, and pounded up the rickety steps to the front door.

"Hey, Asshole?!" bellowed Dustin, bursting through the door. "Why the hell-Steve?"

Dustin took in the sight of his friend sprawled out on the sofa, head lolling, unmoving.

His heart dropped.

"STEVE!"

He flung off his backpack and rushed over to Steve's side, trying to calm himself as he instantly went to search for a pulse, fearing the worst.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." breathed Dustin.

With shaking hands, the boy adjusted Steve's head and felt for the spot that Hopper had taught him to in moments like these. It was pertinent in regards to Steve's condition.

Dustin's heart-racing panic dissolved into tearful relief within seconds as his fingers felt the wonderful, rhythmic thump beneath them.

"Son of a bitch, Harrington..." said Dustin.

Sliding down to sit on the floor beside the sofa, Dustin leaned his head back and groaned at the ceiling. It only then occurred to Dustin that Steve was sleeping. Sleeping the whole time. Dustin suddenly felt bad for assuming something so much darker. He knew the minute Steve found out he'd shake his head and chide the younger boy for being a paranoid freak.

Dustin turned to look at the deeply slumbering Steve again, his brow furrowing.

"Hey! I think it's time you woke up, Farah Fawcett!" said Dustin, giving Steve a shove. "Come on, Man, you're drooling-"

The sound of the front door clicking and creaking open made Dustin whip around. For the briefest of moments he half-expected to see Hopper stepping in, but that expectation was swiftly squashed when his eyes met the chocolate brown ones of Steve Harrington.

Steve stood stock still with shopping bags in hand, his hair a mess and clothes mismatched. Dustin gaped and his eyes widened, looking between the two Steves with utter bemusement. The Steve at the door slowly lowered the bags to the floor, keeping his eyes locked on Dustin. After he'd done so, he cautiously took a step towards the younger boy.

"Hi, you must be very confused right now-" began the disheveled Steve.

"What the fuck?!" Dustin hollered over him, scrambling to his feet.

Dustin had not even the slightest clue of what the hell was happening right now. He'd seen vans thrown in the air by telepathic girls, one of his close friends possessed by an inter-dimensional demon and even owned a faceless monster for a time, but none of that caused the magnitude of chills that ran up his spine at the peculiarity of this scene.

The second Steve was moving closer, trying to placate Dustin, though the boy wouldn't have it. "Please, just-"

"Doppelgänger!" screamed Dustin.

The boy sprung to his feet, made a grab for the glass ash tray on the coffee table and held it threateningly above his head. The second Steve halted, his eyes drawn to the potential weapon.

"GET OUT!" roared Dustin with all of his might.

The second Steve did not move, but he did look a bit irritated.

"I'm not going to hurt you, or him." he said.

Dustin was about to retort, when there came a low moan from behind him.

"What's going on?"

Dustin turned and was delighted to see Steve coming around.

"Hey, Buddy! Great timing!" said Dustin, unable to hide his anxiety. "We've got a visitor I might need help with."

Steve sat up a bit, blinking slowly at the boy. "Dustin? What are you-"

"Steve, tell this boy I mean no harm."

Both Steve and Dustin looked to the owner of the voice. Where second-Steve had been standing mere seconds ago, now stood a petite woman with a wild mane of dark curly hair. Dustin was beyond bewildered. Steve took a moment before the events of the morning came speeding back to mind, his face becoming white as a sheet.

"Steve, who-what-h-how?!" Dustin could not find the words, he was starting to freak even more than before.

"My name is Lena. I'm... I'm a friend. I swear, I will not lay a finger on either of you, so please, calm yourself!"

Dustin, still unable to absorb the bizarre situation at hand, blinked twice at her, jaw slack. Suddenly he felt a hand seize his shirt roughly. Dustin turned back to Steve, who was gripping at Dustin, an odd look of fright glinting in his wild eyes. Steve gave a strange gurgled utterance before his frightful eyes rolled back in his head.

"STEVE!" cried Dustin.

Dustin hurried to shove the coffee table away and dragged Steve down off the sofa and onto the floor. As the convulsions started, Dustin just managed to get the older boy propped on his side and began timing the event on his wristwatch, just as Hopper had instructed. From across the room, Lena observed the scene with a horrified expression, unsure of what to say or do. It was awful, the noises Steve made while his body jerked involuntarily. Dustin was splitting his attention between his watch and Steve, chewing his lip in blatant concern. Eventually, after what seemed like a good hour (really only a minute), Steve became limp. Dustin checked him, seen he was breathing relatively normal, wiped away the little bit of foamy spit that had formed at the corner of Steve's mouth, and then heaved a shaky sigh.

"Son of a bitch..."

Lena finally dared to breathe again, her wide eyes finding Dustin's. They studied one another without a word for a few seconds, then Lena spoke.

"What's wrong with him?" her voice was hushed.

Dustin's brow furrowed. "You've never seen a seizure before?"

"Does this happen often to him?" questioned Lena, crossing her arms.

"No. This was..." Dustin trailed off, shook his head a bit and put on a hard tone."Shit, why are we even having this conversation?! You say your name's Lena and that you're a friend of Steve's? He's never mentioned you. And-and what the hell was that doppelgänger stuff? What-who are you exactly?!"

Lena was wary, but this boy clearly was close to Steve. Perhaps even one of the 'kids' he mentioned?

"I never got your name." she said pointedly.

"Dustin. Now either tell me who you are or I call Hopper!" answered Dustin.

Lena wasn't sure what or who Hopper was, but it must've been important to him. Gesturing towards the far end of the sofa, Lena wondered if she could take a seat. Dustin nodded. The girl sat and laid her hands in her lap, sighing wearily.

"Well, I hope you don't mind long stories, Dustin."