Chapter One

"We missed you today- you know that project in History was due? Danny was so pissed you skipped out on us. I talked to Mr. Flatt though, told him you did most of the research."

The lump in the bed doesn't stir, but Scott knows his best friend is listening. He drops his backpack with a thud at the foot of Stiles' bed and nudges his friend with his elbow until he scoots over, pressing himself closer to the wall and allowing Scott room to stretch out on the bed.

"Did you read the chapter Lydia's mom assigned?" He asks, not really expecting any response. When none is given, he plows on, lifting the text book from where Stiles had discarded it beside the bed. "I still don't get some of it. I thought lymphocytes were like the garbage disposals for cells."

That gets out a sort of snort from Stiles. He rolls over in the bed, poking his head out from the covers to face Scott's elbow.

"Lysosomes. Lysosomes do that. Lymphocytes kill the bad bacteria."

Scott's eyebrows knit together as he silently repeats Stile's words. He glances down the book propped open against his knees, catching sight of Stiles' face as he does so.

Scott pretends not to notice the puffy red skin around his best friend's eyes, or the stale, unbrush-ed teeth smell faintly pooling around the sheets. He turns back to the book, flipping a few thin pages and groaning at the complex diagrams outlining the functions of cells.

"I picked up some extra worksheets for you. Wanna study?"

But Stiles has already pulled the covers back over his head, like a turtle returning to its shell.

Scott frowns, staring out the window. Not that it offers much consolation; the sky outside is as smooth and gray as a rock, even the clouds seeming to be devoid of texture. Scott casts his eyes around the bedroom, trying to pick something out. There are the clothes Stiles wore yesterday, piled in a heap by the closet. Tangled GameCube controllers loll on the floor next to them, exactly where Scott had left them after whupping Stiles' butt at Smash Bros. last weekend. It's not like Stiles to skip school- scratch that, it is totally like Stiles- but not to spend the whole day in bed. Scott's known him for forever, and he's never been silent, let alone lain still for longer than he had to to fall asleep.

Two stale pieces of toast and cold bacon stare dejectedly back at him from the dresser, and then his eyes light on the pale card propped against a mug. He squints at it, trying to decipher the cursive lavender writing, and then it hits him like a ton of bricks- like Peter Hale just slammed his cold fist into his stomach.

"With Sympathy"

"Stiles…" It all clicks into place. The unanswered texts, the uneaten food, Stiles' silent lethargy- even the gray sky outside seems to be mocking Scott, because it is that wintry gray sky, the very same that stares as coldly at him now as it did years and years ago- and Scott hates himself as the movie begins to play in his head, a movie he can remember so clearly now that he never should have forgotten it.

"Scott, how about we skip school today?"

"Yes! Ah mom yes! Can we go see The Incredibles?!" Scott immediately shot up from his bowl of Frosted Flakes. His excitement faded instantly as he noticed the soft, wavery smile on his mother's lips, not quite the impish one he saw every now and then.

"I don't think so today, honey" His mother said softly. "You remember how Stiles' mom has been feeling sick Scott?"

Scott nods- "Did she get better?" He hopes so. He hasn't been able to play with Stiles for a while, because he's always at the hospital with his mom. He's even visited Stiles' mom a few times, but she's really sick. Her hair sticks up like she just woke up, and she talks funny, calling him Stiles and forgetting his mom's name all the time. Stile's isn't as fun now either and he misses a lot of school. And Scott doesn't like spending recess with Danny and Boyd as much.

Melissa shakes her head and reaches across the counter where Scott is seated.

"Scott, last night- Stiles' mom-"her voice catches for a moment, but she pushes on, "Stiles' mom passed away."

Scott screws up his eyes. "Passed away? Like she left? That was mean of her doesn't she know that Stiles-"

"No, honey" Melissa interrupts softly. "She went to heaven."

"So she did leave them? Doesn't she know Stiles is gonna miss her?"

"I'm sure she did know, but, sweetie, sometimes we don't get to decide that."

Scott screwed up his dark eyebrows, the soggy cereal as completely forgotten as the movies.

"And Stiles and his dad are going to be very sad, so maybe we should go take them some dinner, alright?"

Scott nodded immediately. Anything to help his best buddy.

Scott finished up his cereal and loaded into the car with his mother. They went straight to the grocery store, picking out vegetables and frozen lasagna and French bread. His mom even let him pick out a new batman action figure for Stiles while she browsed the card aisle.

"Mom, I don't think Stiles and his dad want flowers," Scott said, eyeing the bouquet of daffodils suspiciously. "Flowers are for girls"

Melissa ruffled her son's hair.

"You're probably right Scotty, but sometimes when you're feeling down yellow flowers can really help." She frowned slightly "Even if you are a boy."

Scott shrugged- his mom did know everything, after all.

He made sure that the cashier put an extra bag around the batman, because it was raining after all, and he didn't want to drop it in the mud and mess it up for Stiles.

Scott's phone buzzed angrily, jerking him out of his reverie. He slipped it from his hoodie pocket and swiped his thumb across the screen. Allison's text popped up, asking him if everything was alright. Scott knew that Allison didn't quite like Stiles as much as he did- admittedly, she was right when she said he could 'be a little grating' at times, but she was worried about him all the same, and that was comforting. He quickly thumbed back a reply, telling her it was all okay- that he would call her later. Thick raindrops began to slap against the window, streaming down it in gray streaks.

When they finally got to Stiles' house and stood sheltered from the cold rain in the little overhang above the porch, Melissa knelt down so that she was at eye level with her son's warm brown eyes.

"Alright Scott, Stiles and his dad are really going through a rough time, so make sure that you're really good, okay? Stiles might be really shaken up, and you'll just need to be a good friend, okay?"

Scott nodded his eyes full of concern as the door swung open.

A tall woman with long, thick hair exactly like Claudia's stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thick, fleecy cardigan.

"Hello, we're friends of Stiles and John. We just thought we'd bring over some dinner. May we step in?" Melissa asked.

The tall woman shook his mom's hand and stepped aside, introducing herself as Sophie, Claudia's sister. She ushered Scott and his mother into the silent house.

"Stiles is upstairs" She said to Scott stiffly, pointing up the hallway. Scott waited for a moment for his mother's approval, and then stepped quietly up towards Stiles' room. He had never been in a house this silent before. It was like there was nobody there, and when he knocked softly against his friend's bedroom door, it seemed to echo like an avalanche.

Scott poked his head into the dark room. Stiles had drawn the curtains, or maybe left them drawn this morning, and he hadn't bothered to turn on any lights. It was only afternoon, but the clouds outside muted the sun as effectively as the sounds in the house. Scott squinted around the room, and finally, caught sight of his best friend. His bed was pushed against the wall, flush against the corner, and Stiles was curled up in a ball, wedged into the corner like he was trying to crush himself into the wall. His pale feet stuck out from his pajama bottoms, starkly white against the olive green bedspread.

"Hi Stiles…" Scott said uncertainly.

"Hey Scott" His voice was croaky and shaky, like he was about to lose it.

Scott crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Scott opened and shut his mouth a few times, and then finally,

"I got you a batman" He said lamely. The sodden bag seemed to be even smaller in the gloom. Stiles turned his swollen, red eyes to Scott.

"Thanks" he croaked, his bottom lip trembling.

And then Stiles broke down. Huge, racking sobs ripping out from his chest, clawing at his throat. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, burying his face deep into his arms.

For a split second Scott sat, stunned, holding the little plastic batman case, and then he leapt across the bed, throwing his arms around Stiles, scratching his fingernails against the wall. He had never seen anyone cry like this, gasping, drowning breaths that seemed to shake the entire boy's small frame. Scott's sleeve was soaked with snot and tears in a second, but he held onto his friend even closer, feeling his racking cries echo through him. Stiles took a huge shuddering breath, incoherent words trying to slip between the tears as he leaned back, pulling his face away from his knees.

Scott squeezed Stiles tighter, pulling his head onto his shoulder, whispering the kinds of things his mother told him when he had a nightmare, or that one time he got his tonsils taken out. And that was when Scott decided, no matter how long he had to stay there and be with Stiles, he would do it. The racking, shuddering sobs scared Scott, and he was never, in a million years, gonna let Stiles hurt as much as he was now. His mom had said Stiles would need a good friend, and Scott was going to be the best friend there ever was.

So Scott laid a hand on what was probably Stiles' shoulder and asked,

"Hey man. Are you okay?" Even as the words were leaving his mouth, he knew they were weak. He gently set the thick Biology textbook back on the floor and scooted closer to Stiles.

"Stiles?"

There was no response. Scott could hear him breathing, feel and hear the subtle vibrations of his heartbeat against the mattress, slow and steady. He must have dosed off while Scott had been thinking. He had no idea what to do to help his friend. He had never felt anything like what Stiles must be feeling, such sadness that glued you to a bed and sucked all the life out of you. Scott frowned. It had been years since Claudia's death, and every time November rolled around it always took a toll on the Stilinski household, but never this bad. Stiles had never collapsed into himself like this.

"Stiles?" He murmured again. He gently pulled the thick comforter down, revealing his friend's face. His eyelids were deeply shadowed, thick purple against his pale skin, and they twitched restlessly. His lips muttered soundlessly. Whatever he was dreaming about, it did not seem restful. Scott would've given almost anything to help his friend- and then the answer came to him like a thunderbolt.

He impatiently ripped the sleeve of his blue hoodie up to his elbow, baring his right arm, and set his hand against the other boy's head. Stiles' black hair stuck slightly to Scott's hand. Scott had never tried this with a person before, but it had to be the same thing- it was one of the truly good things the werewolf bite had given him. He closed his eyes, feeling the blood pulsing just beneath the skin, feeling Stiles' breathing, feeling, and then-

Pain. Pain like he had never felt before, sucking him up, blotting out Stiles' dim room and sucking all the light from his eyes. His heart had surely been hacked into pieces, replaced by a stone, dragging him down. Scott gasped as wave after wave of it slammed into him, drowning him, sucking him down and down and crashing within him, threatening to pulverize his lungs, weighing his limbs down.

"Scott?' he heard his name faintly, like it was echoing down a tunnel to him. And then louder,

"Scott!" and there was a sharp tug on his arm, the arm that was sucking in the cold, black ice, and the pain was gone.

Scott leaned heavily against the headboard, his head pounding.

"I thought- I thought I could help you." He said softly.

Stiles laughed sardonically and sat all the way up in the bed, leaning beside Scott.

"You just thought you could come in, use your werewolf magic on me, and everything would be better?"

Scott shrugged defensively. He could still feel the pain- but it wasn't really pain, more like numbness- aching in his muscles, trying to pull him beneath the blankets Stiles had only partly vacated.

"Well it worked didn't it?"

Stiles sighed beside him, running his long fingers through his hair.

"No… No it didn't really work Scotty"

"No way! But I felt it- I felt- I felt like…" Scott trailed off, lost for words to describe what exactly he had just felt like.

"I don't think you can fix this Scott. It's not like- like a broken arm or something. It's all in my head. And I still-"He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I still just miss her, Scott." His voice cracked.

Scott busied himself with the ties of his hoodie while Stiles wiped his hands across his face.

"Does it feel like that all the time?" Scott murmured.

Stiles nodded.

"Some days it's worse than others. Sometimes it feels like it's almost gone, but then," He shrugged. "It's just one more thing to get used to. ADHD, panic attacks, depression." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Pretty soon there won't be any new medicines for me to try."

Scott shook his head. "Let me help you dude, let me do something- that was so… bad'

Stiles shrugged. "Unless you've found some new werewolf power that won't kill me, we're kinda SOL man."

Scott's phone buzzed in his pocket again, flicking on the light bulb above his head.

"Get in the shower, Stiles. I'm going to use my werewolf powers."