Stranger things: The Ghost of Hawkins

(Nancy & Jonathan's POV)

The Wheeler household was eerily quiet by nightfall. After all they'd seen, sleep felt like a luxury they couldn't afford—yet they needed it more than ever.

Nancy had pulled out the old mattress from the closet, laying it gently on the floor beside her bed. Jonathan, fresh from the shower, stepped in wearing one of Mike's oversized T-shirts. His damp hair clung to his forehead, his movements quiet, tired.

Nancy curled up near the edge of her bed, blankets wrapped tight, eyes blinking slowly against exhaustion. Jonathan lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling in silence. It stretched out between them—until he finally spoke.

"Do you think we can trust him?"

Nancy didn't answer right away. Her gaze lingered on the shadows overhead, thoughts racing.

"He could've left me," she said at last. "Used me as bait. But he didn't. He was hurt—and still came back. I don't know for how long, but... yeah. For now, I think we can."

Jonathan nodded slightly. "Hope you're right."

Another pause. Then—

"Do you believe what he said?"

Nancy's voice came quicker this time. "Not everything. I think he's hiding something. Maybe he doesn't trust us yet. Or maybe... it's something he doesn't want to say out loud."

Jonathan let out a breath. "Yeah... Sleep well. Big day tomorrow."

"You too," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the dark.

(Zero's POV)

The room was silent, except for the quiet hum of a streetlight outside. Zero sat upright in bed, shirt off, tending to his wounds. The bruises had darkened, and dried blood lined the edge of his shoulder.

The air was still. For the first time in years, he wasn't entirely alone.

His mind drifted.

Nancy—sharp, brave, empathetic. Stubborn as hell.Jonathan—quiet, grounded, protective in his own way. Observant.

They reminded him of something he hadn't felt in a long time. People. Real people.

A rare smile ghosted across his lips. But it didn't last.

Pain pulsed from the wound at his side, still wrapped in gauze. The creature had nearly torn him in half.

"That beast," he murmured.

Towering. Winged. Something beyond the Upside Down's usual nightmares. Even the Demodogs had backed away from it. He'd barely escaped with his life—only managing to wound it slightly. If it came again, he knew the truth: he wouldn't survive. Not in this state.

He couldn't afford to push his powers again. His body was hanging by a thread. One wrong move, one flare of energy—he'd crash for good.

And the Gate...

Only Eleven had opened it before. Yet here it was—active again. Somewhere, somehow, she'd done it. But what triggered it this time?

That part haunted him.

He had to find her. Fast.

His eyes finally closed, breath evening out.

No beasts. No voices. No movement.

For the first time in years—

Zero slept in peace.

[Mike, Lucas & Dustin's POV]

The basement was quiet. Uneasy quiet.

Eleven was gone.

Lucas stormed back and forth like a lit fuse, his steps sharp, impatient. The tension between them pulsed like a second heartbeat.

"I told you," he snapped, voice low but bitter. "We couldn't trust her. But you—" he jabbed a finger toward Mike—"you let her mess with the compasses and still followed her."

Mike's jaw tightened. "She didn't mess with anything. She was scared. There's a difference."

Lucas scoffed. "She redirected them, Mike. Led us in circles. She knew where the Gate was and she lied. That's not fear. That's betrayal."

Dustin, still catching his breath from the earlier scuffle, tried to mediate. "Maybe she sensed the Demogorgon. Like before. Maybe she didn't want us walking straight into its mouth."

Lucas wasn't convinced. "Or maybe she didn't want us to find what's really out there. Face it—she's not telling us everything. She says Will's alive, then disappears the second we question her? Come on."

Mike stepped forward, eyes burning. "She's risked her life for us . That means something."

"And yet she still lies. Still runs," Lucas said coldly. "You know why? Because you can't see past your crush."

Mike's fists clenched. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Lucas leaned in, voice dropping. "No? Then tell me why you keep defending someone who can throw us across the woods when she gets upset."

Mike's silence said enough.

Lucas nodded slowly. "Exactly."

Without another word, he turned and stormed up the stairs. The door slammed a second later.

"Man… this isn't looking good," Dustin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "We're falling apart."

Mike stared down at the couch—her couch. The one where she'd curled up, scared but trying. Her folded blanket was still there, untouched since this morning. Now it felt like a memorial.

"She's not just a weapon, Dustin," Mike muttered. "She's..."

Dustin's voice softened. "We'll find her tomorrow. Okay? Together."

Mike gave a small nod.

Then Dustin left too, the echo of his footsteps chasing the silence.

Mike stood there, alone. His basement felt colder than usual. The place that had once been their safe zone now felt like a war zone of silence.

He looked at the blanket Eleven had used last time she was here—still folded, untouched.

Anger twisted inside him. He shoved it off the couch, kicked over a nearby stool, and stormed upstairs.

-----

Author's Note

Hey guys! Thanks for reading this far 

Quick question for you—going forward, do you have any suggestions you'd like to see explored?

Also, be honest… would you want to see Barb alive, maybe hidden away like Will was in Season 1? 

I've got some ideas, but I'd love to hear what you think. Drop your thoughts below—I read every comment!