Steve falls asleep on the short drive home.

Nancy fumes silently in the passenger seat. Jonathan can tell by the exasperated little breaths she breathes out every minute or so.

"What, Nancy?" he asks softly, after five minutes of this.

"Why is he getting roped in with Hargrove?" she asks. "And why now?"

"I don't know, Nance. And I'm not sure that he does either."

"We need to do something about it," she says resolutely.

Jonathan smiles fondly. He loves how determined she is. "What are we gonna do, Nancy? We're not his parents - we're not exactly qualified to tell him what to do."

"But you agree with me," she says. "That Hargrove is bad news."

"That's what his track record shows, yeah," Jonathan allows. "But look, Steve isn't dumb. I know he gives that impression sometimes…" he grins as Nancy backhands him on the arm. He sighs. "I think Steve trusts his instincts. Maybe that's what he's doing now."

"Any sane person with functioning instincts would run away from Hargrove," Nancy grumps, folding her arms across her chest. "Far away."

"You didn't," Jonathan reminds her.

"I stood my ground with him," she says. "That's different than buddy-ing up with him. I confronted him about what he did to Steve and he didn't show even an ounce of remorse."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. You told him yourself that you didn't buy it."

"I know," Nancy sighs. "That's because I want to believe that people aren't that cruel."

"Look, maybe Steve does know something that we don't." Jonathan swallows hard as he looks in the rearview mirror at his sleeping passenger. "But whatever happens, I think we just need to have his back right now, okay? Whether that involves Billy Hargrove or not."

"Yeah, okay," Nancy gives in reluctantly. "I guess you're right."

xxx

Nancy kisses Jonathan goodbye at the car before driving off.

Jonathan shakes Steve gently awake.

Joyce has pea soup waiting for them when they step inside.

When Steve almost falls asleep in it, Jonathan guides him to bed. He pulls off his shoes and drapes the comforter over him.

xxx

Joyce and Will are waiting for him in the hallway when he emerges.

Will is speaking into his walkie: "Yes, I'm sure he's okay, Dustin. He ate and now he's in bed. Over." Will rolls his eyes and gives the walkie a little shake. "He's relentless," he tells Joyce and Jonathan.

Joyce smiles fondly. "He's just worried about his friend, kiddo."

"I know, I know," Will says, then looks at Jonathan. "I'm gonna start getting ready for bed, too. Are you coming soon?"

Jonathan rubs at his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be in a bit." He gives the kid's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I can take tonight's shift if you want," Joyce offers, once Will has disappeared into his bedroom. "You look exhausted."

Pot calling the kettle black.

"It's okay, Mom," Jonathan assures. "His nightmares are getting better. He only wakes up once or twice now."

Joyce nods and reaches up to cup Jonathan's cheek. "I appreciate everything you're doing. I don't think I tell you that enough." Her voice catches on the last word.

Jonathan reaches up to hold onto her wrist, because her eyes are overflowing with tears and Jonathan is desperate to comfort her. He hates seeing his mom cry, and ever since Bob, it's been an everyday occurrence. "It's okay," he shushes as he pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles into his shoulder. "I almost made it through, today,"

Jonathan squeezes her a little tighter at those words. "You're allowed to be sad, Mom," he says into her hair, and feels wetness in his own eyes. "I'm sad, too."

They stand there, in the dark hallway, for a little while longer - just rocking back and forth, until Joyce pulls away and composes herself. "You should get to Will," she dismisses.

Jonathan squeezes her hand. "You'll be okay?"

Joyce nods. "Of course." She squeezes his hand, too. "Get some sleep."

She lets go and turns, as Jonathan says, "You too."

xxx

"Stop! Stop it. Please, stop!"

Jonathan wakes to screaming. Reflexively, he turns on the nightstand lamp and begins his mantra of, "It's okay, Will, I'm right here. You're safe. You're alright."

"Jonathan, it's not me," Will tells him, nudging him to get out of the bed. "It's Steve." The screams from the room beside them had woken him, too.

"HELP!"

"Shit," Jonathan breathes as the realization hits. He scrambles out of Will's bed and sprints to his bedroom, where Steve is sitting up, tangled up in the sheets, his hands held out defensively.

He keeps yelling stop and get back and don't. Then Jonathan hears it: Hargrove. Steve is begging Billy to get away from him, to stop.

Jonathan stomach is ice as he flips on the overhead light and runs to grab Steve around his torso, holding him close as he bucks beneath him, still caught in the nightmare. His screams start to fade as he wakes.

"It's okay," Jonathan tells him, gently in his ear, repeating his mantra from earlier. "You're safe. You're alright, Steve."

xxx

When Steve has considerably collected himself, they move to the front porch so he can have a smoke to further calm his nerves. He's visibly shaken.

Jonathan takes it upon himself to stay with him. He tells Joyce and Will to go back to bed.

He's careful not to pry. He waits for Steve to speak first.

It takes a few moments, a few drags on the cigarette, before he starts talking.

"Sorry for getting you up, Byers," he says softly.

"It's no trouble," Jonathan assures, and means it.

Steve is frowning hard at his shoe as the cigarette hangs loosely between his fingers. "You probably want to know what that was about, right?"

Jonathan bites down on his lip and picks at a fray on his jeans. "I think I already know. You, uh, you said his name."

Steve breathes deeply. "Oh."

"You want to talk about it?"

Steve shrugs. "I dream about it a lot. The fight."

Jonathan nods vaguely. "It's post-traumatic stress," he says. "That's what Will's doctor calls it. He's says it's pretty common after going through something emotionally or physically damaging."

"It's not like I was possessed by a shadow monster," Steve says, scoffing a little bit at the idea of it all.

"No," Jonathan allows. "But what you went through with Billy wasn't nothing. He could've killed you, Steve."

"Yeah. I know."

"So why did you help him tonight?"

Steve blows out a ring of smoke. "That's a bit of a loaded question, Byers," he says.

Jonathan smiles slightly. "I thought it might be."

"Well, the short answer is: I have no fucking idea."

"Okay, and what's the long answer?"

"The long answer, I think, is that I'm starting to realize that me and Hargrove are a lot alike. Or, at least, we're more alike than different."

Jonathan doesn't see it. "He's a jerk, Steve. You're nothing like him."

"Maybe not anymore," Steve says. "But I used to be a jerk, too. You know that better than anybody." He puts his cigarette out on the step in front of him. "I think I helped him today because he didn't have anybody else. And because Max worries about him. She cares more about him than I thought."

Jonathan senses that Steve wants to elaborate on that, but he doesn't. Like he might have a secret that isn't his to tell.

"These past couple of days, when I've been with him, I've felt… I don't know. I've felt better about all the shit going on in my life. Like maybe he's a distraction, or… fuck. I really just don't know, Byers. I can't explain it."

"That's okay. I get it," Jonathan says. "Just…"

"Be careful?" Steve guesses.

"Really careful," Jonathan emphasizes.

"I will be."