i don't own teen wolf and have no affiliation with mtv or jeff davis. additionally, the title comes from the song brother by NEEDTOBREATHE feat. gavin degraw.

full disclosure! i posted another version of this on a different account and have since deleted it. all the faves/follows and comments meant the world to me- unfortunately, the one and only chapter i ended up publishing got plagiarized, which kind of killed my desire to work on subsequent chapters or write in general despite it getting taken down. this fic will not leave me alone, though, and so i've finally come back to it. i have a pretty vague outline and am planning for sciles to happen; i hope you enjoy the ride!

chapter one
"you're here."

It's cold when he comes to, and he's shivering pretty uncontrollably. He isn't wearing a shirt, so the still-healing injuries he was given during the last torture session are on full display. Each movement, no matter how small, aggravates at least a few of the cuts and gashes and bruises. It hurts.

It hurts.

A low groan escapes from Scott as his stomach lurches and he's forced to lean over in order to avoid throwing up all over himself. The werewolf tenses at the pain while he shakes, muscles tight and aching. It hurts. God, it hurts. The coughing that comes afterwards as he dry heaves somehow manages to be even more agonizing.

The edges of his vision go black as he comes comes close to passing out again. He shuts his eyes tightly and tries to lean into the darkness, wanting relief, but a hand is placed on his back then and that manages to quickly pull him back to consciousness. Fuck. He had no idea anybody was even in the room with him; his enhanced supernatural senses aren't exactly up to par right then.

Instinctively flinching away from the touch is also painful and nearly results in Scott vomiting again. The hand is quickly removed, so he does his best to curl up as tightly as possible. He's exhausted and scared and hurting and fairly certain he's bleeding heavily from a dozen different places and it's been like this for… for a long time. Months, at least. Keeping track of the passing days had been impossible.

"Scotty."

The voice is achingly familiar, and the werewolf recognizes it immediately. It's Stiles, and Scott slowly opens his eyes again. He starts twisting around to look for his best friend; before he can move too much, though, Stiles places a hand on his shoulder to stop him. The touch is hesitant, but Scott's more prepared for it this time. A second later, the other teen appears in his field of vision. He's chewing worriedly on his bottom lip and the gentleness of his gaze ignites a warmth in Scott that he hadn't realized how much he'd missed until that exact moment. It almost makes him want to cry.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

He swallows thickly and nods, stopping quickly when his head starts swimming too much, as Stiles gets to work untying one of the ropes keeping him restrained. He keeps talking and his nervous rambling manages to be a huge comfort- Scott never thought he'd hear it again. "I called the rest of the pack. They're on their way, and everything's gonna be alright. Can you take a breath for me, bud?"

His chest is aching. He draws in a shaky one, and Stiles nods in approval. Scott can tell how anxious and concerned his friend is, despite the fact that he's trying so hard to hide it. It's written in the way he's set his jaw and his intense focus on the task at hand. Scott immediately tries figuring out how to reassure him, but everything's fuzzy and he's tired. It's hard to think.

"You're here," he settles on, because it's still hard to believe. He doesn't know how long it's been since the hunters took him captive and can't even begin to guess; the never-ending cycle of torture was just something he got used to. He hadn't been sure he'd ever escape it. Stiles pauses for just a second to glace at Scott and an incredibly heartfelt expression softens his features.

"Of course I am."

Yeah. Scott had never doubted that his friends, his pack, were looking for him. It was just… well, maybe the hunters had hidden him so well that nobody would ever find him. They're really good at what they do, after all. He'd gotten to know that excruciatingly well.

He shuts his eyes then, staying quiet to let the other teen work. The knots are complicated, tight, and coated in the werewolf's blood- both old and new. The pocket knife Stiles always carries with him is coming in handy. Cutting through the heavy-duty ropes takes time, though, and they probably don't have a lot of that. He's not sure where the hunters are or when they'll be back; he just knows that they need to be far away when they do return because he doesn't want them anywhere near Stiles. That can't happen, no matter what.

Scott focuses on just continuing to breathe through the waves of pain as the world spins around him. It's not an easy feat; he can't help being extremely out of it. He tries his hardest to stay aware of what's going on, although that doesn't stop Stiles from having to get his attention by very gently shaking one of his shoulders once he's free. His numerous injuries have healed somewhat by then, but he's still got a long way to go... which doesn't matter, because he's finally escaping. All of his attempts to do so by himself had obviously failed and he's afraid this one will, too- more afraid than ever, because the stakes are suddenly a lot higher now that he has his very human best friend by his side. There's just no other option than for it to succeed. They're leaving, and soon he'll be home.

Home.

The warmth in him grows as he slides an arm across his best friend's shoulders for support and they head towards the staircase in the corner of the room.