The sheriff was sobbing as he made the phone call. "Scott." The word had so much pain entrapped in a single syllable. "You have to...You have to get to the school library. It's Stiles."
After dealing with Lucas and the masked men, all Scott wanted to do was shower and head to bed. Heâd completely the shower part of the plan, but even before he finished he knew the sleep part wouldnât come easy. Too much was on his mind. He needed to see Stiles and talk to him, hear what he thought about everything, from what looked to appear as the new bad guys to what had went down involving Kira. He was worried and that increased when he saw his phone. He finished changing into some clothes as he thumbed through it, frowning at the dozens of texts and missed calls from his pack. Something about a book and Dread Doctors.Â
Heâd tried calling Lydia and so did the others, but she hadnât picked up and no one could find her. Before he could leave to search for her, the sheriffâs face popped up on his screen and he answered the call immediately.
The werewolf froze at his name, the way it came out like a sob. He couldnât remember the last time heâd heard the man sound like that. Didnât want to think about it. Because if he sounded like that, it could only mean one thing. Stiles. Scott was already heading down the stairs when it was confirmed. âI- What happened?â There was an urgency in his voice and hope that maybe Stiles was okay. But if he was, John wouldâve sent him to the hospital, right? Or at least thatâs what he thought. His fears worsened when the sheriff told him to just hurry before hanging up.
The ride there was a blur, if youâd have asked Scott about it, he wouldnât have been able to tell you much about it. It was the same route he took to school every morning, but this time was different. This time Scott could feel it in his bones, like a severed limb. He parked by Stilesâ jeep, heart in his hand as he smelled the blood. Thereâd been a fight, he read the air like Derek had once on the roof of the hospital. He channeled everything else out. He followed his best friendâs scent, ignoring the officers and their looks. Ignored  the tightening of his gut when he started to hear the sheriffâs sobs and smell all of the blood that did belong to Stilesâ.
He stopped just outside the door, steadying himself, but all the sure ground in the world couldnât hold him up when he saw his best friendâs body.
Scott remembered everything after that very clearly. It was seared into his brain and etched into his soul. There was no hiding from what came after. It weighed on his heart, deepening the darkness surrounding it. Sometimes he wondered if Malia could see it when she looked at him with her bright blue eyes, power radiating from her like it did him now.
The alpha wondered if he could even call himself a true alpha anymore after the blood heâd spilt.
Heâd taken Stilesâ body, cold, broken, and covered in blood into his arms, not letting go until the others had forced him to. Malia had been the one to point out the scent, familiar to her, but not being able to place it. Scott knew it though, having tracked it before. Josh. He remembered the boy threatening the sheriff and kept it to himself, telling the otherâs to go home. It was something he had to do alone. He hadnât even changed, his clothes already bloody before they became even bloodier. Josh had taken a part of him and heâd taken away everything in return, including a name.
It wasnât hard to find Theo after. Scott had gone home in the between, made sure every trace of blood was gone. He didnât want the other to know what was coming. He hadnât been able to see it and the other didnât deserve to either. Stiles had been right about him and heâs still not sure if that had anything to do with the way he justified his actions. He knew it caused the guilt he felt to be heavier though, pushing down on him some nights that he couldnât breathe. He had to check his hands to make sure Stilesâ blood wasnât on them.
It was always Stilesâ, never Joshâs or Theoâs. Once he cleaned himself up and changed, heâd called Theo crying over his best friend. Theyâd been real tears and he had to mull over the fact if thatâs what made him so convincing to meet with or if the chimera had just thought it was all going according to his plan. He wanted to believe the second, wanted to believe that the look of betrayal in Theoâs eyes when he stuck his claws so deep in his chest that heâd shredded his heart was due to the failure of the plan, not that he actually cared for Scott as a friend.
EIther way, he didnât necessarily lose much sleep over it.
It hardened him more, each death did. They were a part of him now, much like the new pack members heâd bitten after. Like the tears he hadnât let himself cry after that day.
Like the tears he had cried when he was alone after his best friend crawled his way out of his grave.
