Hopper stirs but doesn't fully wake when he feels a gentle pressure on his shoulder, followed by a warm hand reaching for his own.

A moment later he feels another, heavier pressure on his other shoulder followed by a deep snore.

A smile breaks across his face, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes never opening.

He was safe. He was going home, wherever that was, with Joyce's hand tightly gripping his, and Murray's snores ringing in his ear.

The minute I sent for her, I sentenced her to death.

His eyelids grow heavier, and he thinks of Joyce, all the cigarettes they'd shared throughout their friendship, the way she'd looked at him when she shut down the machine, the way his heart hurt to be away from her.

Then his dreams drift to something closer, something more real: the Demogorgon. He thought about it ripping apart the other prisoners, the way it ran and leapt and threw itself, fervently, into every kill.

It was like nothing he'd ever seen, nothing like they'd ever faced in Hawkins. This one was a different monster altogether. It liked the thrill of the hunt, the fear, the screams.

He sees Joyce, in her dark pink hat, standing in that pit beside him. As the doors swing open, she looks at him, fear in her eyes, that same pleading, helpless fear he'd seen when Bob died.

And then, a shriek, a growl, a chitter, and Joyce is thrown across the pen, screaming, her hat flying off and floating down to a pool of blood on the white snow.

"Hop!" She yells as the monster tears into her, her small stature doing nothing to help her against the towering beast. "Help!"

He looks at her just in time to see the Demogorgon open its petalled mouth, its teeth sinking into her face. It shakes her, twists, like a dog finally catching that pesky backyard squirrel. Her body becomes lifeless, and the monster hurls her across the pen, her body crashing against the metal fencing.

The monster turns, chitters, and looks toward Hopper with its eyeless face. He turns and runs towards the wall, backed into a corner, but as far as he could be from the creature. It opens its mouth, its million teeth staring back at him, the same teeth that had just shredded Joyce.

The Demogorgon lets out a bloodthirsty snarl before pouncing on Hopper.

The minute I sent for her, I sentenced her to death.

He wakes, violently, his jaw clamped shut, only a small scream escaping his lips, rather than the crazed yell he'd borne in his throat.

"Hop." He turns, eyes still wide, at Joyce's voice and the feeling of her fingertips on his chin, guiding his eyes to hers. "You're safe." The sincerity in her eyes takes him by surprise, not because he didn't believe her, but because it'd been so long since he had heard something so genuine.

When she squeezes his hand, he notices how tightly he's gripping hers, his fingernails digging into the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry, I," he sighs, scratches his nose with his thumb, and shoots a glare at Murray who's still snoring away on his shoulder. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You're allowed to have the bad dreams. Just know I'll be right here when you wake up." She offers a small smile, recalling saying the same to Will once, some years ago, the same monster plaguing his dreams.

~oOo~

"It seems like your kids have been busy," Murray comments as they pull up to the Byers' house, multiple sets of tire tracks marking the front yard. "Spring break, am I right?" He asks lightly before elbowing Hop. "Huh? Huh?"

"Yeah, sure." Hopper takes a deep breath and tries not to show how much pain Murray's jab had caused his broken ribs.

"Here," Joyce parks the car and rounds to the back seat. She opens the passenger door and wraps an arm around Hopper's shoulder and helps him out of the car.

He didn't need her help, and she knew that, but she wanted him to know he had it anyway.

"This is a nice place, Joyce." He comments idly, his voice still laced with exhaustion. "This is a real nice place."

"That's what I told her!" Murray adds excitedly as he unlocks the door. Joyce guides Hopper through the doorway, her arms wrapped around his thinned waist. "Ew." Murray pinches his nose and waves his free hand through the air. "Smells like the kids had a rager and tried to clean it up."

"Spring break, right?" Hopper asks dryly.

"This, this has Miss. Wheeler written all over it; bleach and cleaning supplies, but let me tell you, the house will always remember."

"Give it a rest, Murray." Joyce's eyes are dark as she tips her head towards him.

"Right, right, let's let the hero get some well-deserved rest. And I, his trusty sidekick, will crash on the couch." He says before flopping, belly-first, onto the sofa.

"Here," Joyce leads Hopper to her bedroom and opens the door.

"This is a real nice place, Joyce." He echoes his earlier sentiment again.

"Well, thank StarCourt." She returns offhandedly as she guides Hopper to sit on the edge of the bed.

He lets out a heavy sigh and leans back, the comforter beneath him damn near the cosiest thing he'd ever felt in his life.

"Come on, Hop, you should get out of these clothes, take a shower." She tries.

"No." He mumbles, quietly, and shakes his head, the exhaustion finally overtaking him.

Joyce just sighs and kneels on the floor, untying his shoes and tossing them aside. "Jesus." She lets out a breath and covers her mouth with a hand when she sees the wounds on Hop's feet. She hurries to the bathroom and grabs alcohol and bandages before cleaning the wounds, Hopper not waking despite the pain she's sure the alcohol on such deep injuries would cause.

He was that exhausted.

She lets out a deep, laboured breath as she picks up his legs and swings them into the bed, the weight he'd lost in no way making up for the fact that he still dwarfed her. Once he's situated in the bed she lets out another breath, this time one of relief. She reaches for his shirt, fights the garment over his arms, and takes in the bruises that mark his chest, the distinct imprint of boots, of tread a deep purple on his skin.

Joyce sighs, exhaustion overtaking her as well, as she crawls into bed beside him, not even bothering to rid herself of her shoes. She rests her head on his shoulder, traces the curve of his jawline with a shaking finger, outlines the bruises on his body, and splays her fingers out across his chest.

She was afraid that if she slept, she'd wake up and he'd be gone, that they'd never made it home, died in the plane crash, or were being tortured by the Russians. She was afraid that if she slept, she'd wake up and it would all be a dream, Hopper would be gone, Murray as well, and there wouldn't be a smashed porcelain doll in her front yard. If she slept, there was a chance it would all be ripped away from her, and that she feared more than anything else. She feared losing him again, wasn't sure her heart or mind could take it.

Hopper lets out a deep breath, his eyes jetting back and forth beneath their heavy lids, deep in dreams.

"Hopper," a voice calls, an unfamiliar one, and suddenly he's back in that pit, with Joyce, but there's someone new there as well. A child, a medical gown, a buzzed head. Eleven. "You've killed them both." The voice says before two Demogorgons pounce, attacking both El and Joyce, the air filled with their screams, Hopper looking frantically, back and forth between the two monsters, the two women. "Their time is almost up." When he turns towards the voice he's met with a grandfather clock, chiming, and behind it, a Gate. "And so is yours."

He startles awake and sits bolt-upright, eyes wide and chest heaving. When he notices Joyce sleeping beside him, he lets out a breath of relief.

It was just another nightmare.