When they returned to Hawkins from California, the town barely resembled the place any of them remembered. Long, jagged cracks still split the streets apart, buildings stood half-abandoned, and there was a constant, uneasy quiet in the air—as if Hawkins itself was holding its breath. The danger had receded, but it hadn’t vanished. Not really. Everything felt fragile, temporary, like it could collapse again at any moment.
The Byers family had nowhere permanent to stay. Their old house wasn’t an option, and even calling Hawkins “home” felt strange after everything that had happened. They needed somewhere safe to sleep, even if it was just for a few days, somewhere they could regroup and feel human again.
That was when the Wheelers offered their house. All of them agreed without hesitation—everyone except Ted, who seemed almost comically detached from the reality that the town had been torn apart. But the offer wasn’t made out of politeness alone. Hawkins was split in two, people were scared, and after all the loss they had endured, sticking together felt necessary. No one wanted to be alone anymore.
You and your sister Jane technically already had a place to live: the cabin. It was damaged, visibly scarred by what had happened, but it was still standing. Still yours. Even so, Hopper was firm with you. He told you not to stay there that night. He planned to start training Jane early the next morning—hard, nonstop, pushing her limits—and he didn’t want any distractions. He needed her focused, and whether you liked it or not, your presence could interfere.
You hesitated. The cabin felt like home in a way nothing else did, even in its ruined state. Leaving it, even for one night, felt wrong. But in the end, you agreed. Not because it was easy, but because you trusted Hopper. One night, you told yourself. Just one.
So you ended up at the Wheelers’ house.
You slept in the basement with Jonathan and Will. You didn’t complain. Jonathan had been your best friend since childhood; you’d had sleepovers before, spent countless nights talking about music, dreams, and escaping Hawkins someday. Sleeping next to him on the same couch didn’t bother you. If anything, it felt familiar—comforting. Still, there was something different in the air now, a quiet tension neither of you acknowledged.
The night passed without incident. Exhaustion pulled you all into a deep, heavy sleep.
Morning came slowly. Pale sunlight filtered through the small basement windows as the alarm clock on the coffee table began to buzz softly. Jonathan stirred first, groaning quietly before sitting up. He rubbed his face, hair messy, eyes still half-closed, and then smiled—an easy, almost carefree smile that felt rare these days.
“Wow, what an amazing dream,” he said, stretching as he straightened up.
Then he looked at you. You were already awake, standing, calmly fixing your shirt as if you’d been up for a while.
“Nancy and I were making out, giggling and kissing,” he continued casually, clearly comfortable telling you this. “Like a couple of high school kids at lovers’ lane—”
He stopped suddenly, frowning. His eyes shifted around the room.
“But I can’t remember how it ended…”
You looked at him before pulling your collar down. You revealed that there were hickeys and bite marks.
“. . . Did you have that before?!” Jonathan asked quickly, blushing hard.
“Nope,” you replied flatly.
“—why didn’t you wake me?!” Jonathan exclaimed immediately.