Will's first thought when he wakes up is, shit, he's still in love with Mike. His second thought is, shit, it didn't work—he's still here.

His third thought is, where is he, and how did he get here? The last thing he remembers is sitting on top of the guardrail overlooking the water, and then—and then—

He opens his eyes. He's in a house that he doesn't recognize—a living room—lying on a sleek-looking white couch facing away from the cushions. The room has got taupe walls intercepted by wide windows; there's a grand piano off in a corner that looks like it's worth more than Will's whole house. Where is this place, anyway? No way are there any houses in Sullivan that look like this one.

There are low, unfamiliar voices conversing behind him, on the other side of the couch, but Will doesn't dare sit up and ask them where he is, not yet. The last thing he can remember is wishing he were dead—he's not exactly in the mood to chat about that with a bunch of strangers.

"It's so lucky that I got there when I did," a man is saying. "If I had been even a few seconds later, I don't even want to think about what might have…"

Another voice, a female voice, adds, "But Alice could see Jasper saving him as soon as he made the decision to go, couldn't she? Once he was on the right path—"

"Yes, but the part that's really lucky is that Alice saw it in time to do something about it," adds the man. "I was almost—he was already sitting on the guardrail by the time I got there. He could so easily have slipped and fallen into the river when I calmed him to sleep."

"I just want to know why I saw it," says another female—Alice, Will presumes. "Everything in his future is too murky to make out. Obviously, he hasn't decided on any course of action moving forward yet."

A fourth voice, another man's, cuts in, "He's awake. He's still a little out of it, but I can hear him."

"Yeah, I can feel him, too," says the first man—Jasper. "He's in a lot of distress. Let me just…"

And Will can't explain, exactly, what happens next. It's like a soothing wave of peace entrenches itself in him—like, suddenly, Mike and mental illness and what Will was doing on that highway are no longer of any concern to him. It's everything he wanted and nothing he's gotten since that first nightmare in the Upside-Down so many years ago. No: it's better than anything he's ever felt, even before that.

It has to be drugs, he thinks. These people—god knows how they knew what they apparently knew about what he was planning to do—but they knew, and they doped him up on drugs to knock him out and bring him back here and give him this blissed-out feeling. What other explanation could there be? What did they slip him, and where can he get more of it?

Someone, he thinks it's one of the men, snorts.

Figuring there's no point avoiding it any longer, Will sits up and twists around to look at the gaggle of people on the other side of the room—and, shit, Will doesn't think he's ever seen anyone so beautiful before, not even Mike. Sorry, Mike.

The second Will thinks this, the man snorts again. Will narrows his eyes.

"What happened?" he asks the group. "Who are you people?"

One of the women crosses over to the couch and drapes her arms over the back of it to look at Will, not unlike the way he draped his own arms over the guardrail on the bridge before he sat on it. The thought of it makes him shiver. On this side of whatever is shutting Will's brain up, the thought of how easily Will might not have been alive to see these things or think these thoughts feels a lot more chilling. "I'm Esme," she says kindly. "This is my husband, Carlisle, and our adoptive children—Edward—Jasper—Alice—Emmett—Rosalie. We're new in town. You're in our home about twenty minutes outside Sullivan."

"And you saw that I was—that I was thinking of jumping?"

Following Esme to the couch, Jasper adds, "I was driving up to the bridge when I saw you sitting there, and I got worried. You collapsed—I don't know why—but I was able to catch you before you… fell."

And Will knows this is a lie. He doesn't understand how it went down, but he heard them talking when he first awoke, and it definitely sounded like they somehow already knew what was happening before it happened—that Jasper got in his car and drove out there to catch Will before Will even knew what he was going to do. But that doesn't make any sense, and Will feels so drugged up right now that, for all he knows, maybe he imagined that conversation. Maybe he dreamed up that these strangers were coming specifically to save him just because he wanted to believe that somebody was.

But, no—that doesn't make sense, either. Will has no desire to be around these strangers; he just wants to go home.

He looks into Jasper's face properly for the first time, and he has to hold his breath when he does because—even if the rest of these people are beautiful, and they are beautiful, they can't hold a candle to Jasper. He's as pale-skinned and baggy-eyed as the others with the same amber irises; his hair is honey-blonde and falls to his shoulders, and his eyes are crinkled kindly. He's tall and lean and looks to be around the same age as Will, maybe a year or two older at most. In the light, Will can make out scar patterns all along his exposed arms, and he can't help but wonder what happened to him—whether he might possibly understand what it's like to feel like his body is broken.

"How are you feeling now?" asks Jasper quietly.

"I'm fine. Thanks for, uh… just thanks." Alice and Edward exchange a dark look that irritates Will more than anything. The serene feeling from before is starting to fade, but he still feels a lot calmer, more stable, than he had. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but I just want to go home. Can one of you give me a ride back? I was just supposed to be going out for a walk, and my mom's probably worried sick about me by now."

"Alice?" asks Emmett as all of them turn to look at her. This irritates Will, too—like he needs permission from a bunch of strangers for them to leave him well alone.

Alice closes her eyes and thinks for a moment. "Yes, but… but it won't be easy."

Before Will can speculate much about what she means, Jasper says, "I'll take you back. What was your name, by the way?"

"Uh, it's Will. Will Byers."

"Okay, Will Byers. You don't mind if we take the scenic route, do you? Or if I drive on the slow side, for a change? I just don't want to thrust you right back into a situation that… led to… what almost happened."

Feeling highly self-conscious, Will says, "I'll be fine. It was stupid, and I'm not going to do it again."

"Carlisle," says Esme quietly, "are you sure you don't want to take him to the hospital?"

Carlisle shakes his head minutely. "I couldn't hold him in emergency for long, and I don't trust the psychiatric unit. I'm afraid that an inpatient stay would only do further damage."

Jasper doesn't give Will much of a chance to process this exchange. "Come on. I'll show you to my car."

Jasper's car turns out to be a bright blue two-seat Ferrari. Will doesn't know much about Ferraris, but he knows enough to know that this one has got to be crazy expensive. "This is yours? My mom would never spend her money to buy us cars—my brother, Jonathan, had to save up for his, and I don't even own one."

Jasper just laughs. "Go on, get in."

True to his word, Jasper doesn't get straight back on the highway. His house seems to be buried pretty deep in the woods, but even so, Will gets the impression after fifteen minutes that Jasper wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to take the long way. "I'm really fine. Before was just… but I'm fine now."

Jasper casts Will a worried glance before looking back at the road. "Will, people don't walk up to bridges and sit on the wrong side of the guardrails because they're fine."

Will doesn't answer for a moment. "I don't know you," he says finally. "I don't owe you an explanation."

Jasper hesitates. "No, you don't, but I don't… you'd be doing me a kindness if you let me help you."

I don't need any help, Will tries to say. Instead, what comes out is, "You can't help me. No one can."

"Why not?"

And Will doesn't know why he tells the truth. Maybe it's because he's been holding it in for so many weeks with no outlet, or maybe it's because, now that he's not feeling so overwhelmed by being surrounded by strangers, it feels a little safer to talk to Jasper when it's just them in the car without any secrets that need keeping. Whatever the reason, he shrugs and says, "I'm sick. I have borderline personality disorder, and I'm in love with somebody I can't be with, and I'm tired of letting it eat me away. I'm tired, Jasper."

Jasper pulls his eyes off the road to look at Will again. "No girl is worth your life, Will."

"First of all, he's a he," says Will, rolling his eyes. Jasper doesn't comment on this. "And second, yeah, tell me about it. You're not telling me anything I haven't already beaten myself up about for years."

"I'm sorry," Jasper murmurs. "The last thing I'm trying to do is shame you."

He's hit a stop sign, and the car stands still as they just—stare at each other for a moment. A chill goes down Will's spine. He thinks this might be the first time that anyone but Mike has ever sent that kind of chill down his spine.

"Why do you all look like this?" Will asks.

Jasper blinks. "Who all?"

"You and your family."

"Why do we look like—what, exactly?"

"You know—pale skin, baggy hazel eyes. Beautiful. Esme and Carlisle are married, and she said they adopted all of you, so you're not all biologically related for any of that to be hereditary."

Jasper takes the opportunity to put his foot back on the accelerator. The Ferrari takes off again, faster than before, Will thinks. "I don't know. Maybe it's because we all follow the same strict diet." He chuckles to himself.

"If this is your way of trying to convert me to veganism or something—"

"No converting, I promise."

Will settles back in his seat. Jasper laughs again. "You're funny, Byers. Anybody ever tell you that you're funny?"

"I wasn't joking."

Jasper's eyes are still on the road, but he smiles. "So, uh, tell me about this boy. What's his name?"

"Mike," says Will.

"And why can't you and Mike be together? Is he seeing someone else already?"

"Well, he was dating my sister for a long time, but that's over now. It's stupid. I love him, and he loves me, but I'm sick. I was a mess for years because I was—addicted to him, basically. We'd probably be dating right now if I hadn't gone and screwed it all up."

It feels bizarre, surreal, to be having this conversation with an utter stranger—but Jasper doesn't seem to be judging him. He just keeps driving, keeps watching the road; he's finally, finally made it onto the highway. "It's very self-aware of you to realize that he's bad for you. I'm sorry you've suffered so much."

"It's okay," says Will, even though it's not okay. He still feels strangely calm—like, even if it's not okay, it could be someday, maybe even someday soon. He's okay at the moment, anyway, even though he doesn't trust that to last. "My family's really supportive, and so is my therapist. It's not like I don't have anybody but him."

"But it feels like you don't sometimes?" Jasper presses gently.

"Yeah. Yeah, it feels like I don't a lot of times."

They sit in silence until Jasper crosses the town border north into Sullivan. "Can you just drop me off at Jackson and Hamilton?" It's not where he lives, but it's close, and he doesn't want anybody asking questions if they see Will getting out of an unfamiliar Ferrari with a stranger.

"Sure. Just—can you promise me something, Will?"

"What?" Will asks warily.

"Promise me that, if there is a next time, you'll call somebody before hurting yourself. It doesn't have to be me, but I'll give you my number, and you're welcome to use it if for any reason you feel like… like you said, like you can't let anyone else in."

"It's not like I was planning on it today," he mutters. "I just… I was walking to clear my head, and I found myself on the water, and I… I couldn't have called anybody from there."

"Well, then, promise me you'll walk to someplace with a pay phone and use it."

And Will doesn't want to make that promise. Even here in Jasper's car where his whole life feels strange and safe, he knows that this freak calm will wear off sooner rather than later, and he's going to go straight back to not wanting to talk about it. But instead of telling the truth, he says, "Sure."

How much can it really hurt? Worst-case scenario, he calls Carlotta. She quite strictly can't share anything he tells her with Mom or Jonathan or anybody else, and he probably should at least tell her what happened today, before it happens again.

God, he can't believe he did that. He can't believe he did that.

He doesn't want it, but he takes Jasper's number. Will flashes him a glimmer of a smile as he scrambles out of the car, but he's only been on the sidewalk for maybe ten or fifteen seconds before that smile is gone and Mike is back in his mind and everything goes back to shit.

He wishes it had worked. He wishes Jasper had stayed in his damn house and left Will to save himself the only way he knew how.