Hey so this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction of any sort. I love reading how others think the story may go and decided that I'd try it out. Let me know if I should continue or just stick to reading. I really love the show, but I don't own it.
Pain. That's the only thing that he registered while sprinting through the damp woods. If someone were to confront him at this very moment and demand to know his name, he wouldn't be able to tell them. The distraction of the broken ribs and dislocated shoulder, in addition to the deep cuts that covered his body, prevented him from having any semblance of a coherent thought. The burning sensation seemed to consume him. His legs. His abdomen. His arm. Everywhere.
Not since being shot in the Hale house had Scott experienced anything quite so excruciating. Until tonight, Scott had never felt anything close to the sensation he felt as the bullet shot by the late Kate Argent pierced through his abdomen. In all honesty, even that night in the Hale house didn't quite match the feeling Scott currently had. Had someone asked him then if anything could feel quite as painful as a bullet laced with wolfsbane, he would have laughed at the absurdity. Looking back, he realizes how stupid he was to think that he had already met the worst of it. The fear and pain that Scott had faced in the months since being bitten by Peter Hale was nothing in comparison to the agony that rippled through his body while navigating through the Beacon Hills preserve.
The gloomy fog that surrounded Beacon Hills was doing little to aid Scott in maneuvering his way through the dense forest. Stumbling through the abandoned woods, Scott did his best to put distance between himself and the place he just was. The thick roots of the monstrous California trees seemed to be working against Scott. The tangled limbs of the forest's branches were everywhere, seemingly more inescapable than those who were already pursuing him. If Stiles were here with him, he would undoubtedly reference Scott's unintentional personification of the surrounding trees. Like always, he would pick the worst timing to spout off the random facts that he had acquired during his many Adderall-induced Wikipedia searches. The awkward rambling of his best friend, although generally tolerated by Scott, would have only slowed the young werewolf down in this particular situation.
Scott's signature baggy jeans were barely recognizable as he flew through the wooded area. Torn from the ankle to his knee, the jeans had become more like a pair of shorts. Scott was surprised to see that his shredded white shirt was coated in what appeared to be a layer of mud. Gasping for breath, Scott collapsed against a tree. The jagged, shallow breaths reminded Scott of his life as a severe asthmatic prior to being transformed into a werewolf. The tiny clearing that Scott had stumbled across provided him with enough moonlight to see that his shirt was not stained with mud like he initially thought, it was a deep crimson.
Peering beneath the tattered t-shirt, Scott was met with a gruesome view of the white bone of his ribcage. The gash on his abdomen, which was far worse than he expected, explained his sudden difficulty with breathing. The broken ribs had undoubtedly punctured his lung, thus inflicting damage that would take a substantial amount of time to heal. Even for a werewolf. Desperate to escape the vastness of the encroaching forest, as well as the tireless individuals who were trailing him, Scott struggled to drag himself off of the forest floor and continue his trek through the wooded terrain. The muffled shouting that he heard in the distance motivated Scott enough to increase his pace.
It was almost comical, he thought, that he once again found himself in this situation. He was a kid, his mother reminded him of it on a daily basis, yet here he was. Literally running for his life. Clutching at his abdomen in an attempt to slow the bleeding of just one of his many serious injuries. The term, "déjà vu," seemed to be the only appropriate description of the predicament that Scott was once again placed in. Doing anything to distract himself from the unbearable ache that had permeated throughout his body, Scott reflected on his last experience with déjà vu. The formal. The buses. Allison. The mere thought of her name gave Scott a much-needed burst of adrenaline.
Flashback
Since the Argent family's discovery of Scott's werewolf nature, the obstacles placed in front of the young lovers escalated to an entirely new level. A deal had been made between Chris Argent and a reluctant Scott McCall. The experienced hunter would leave Scott alone so long as the latter would distance himself from Allison. The patriarch of the Argent family was easily one of the most threatening people that Scott had encountered and aside from Derek, there was only one person who was more intimidating than Chris Argent. His daughter.
Allison's discovery of the deal made between Scott and her father resulted in the most frightening encounter Scott had ever had with the usually sweet and approachable girl.
In the days immediately following his conversation with Chris Argent, Scott did his best to evade Allison's phone calls. The traumatic events that had occurred at the Hale house had resulted in a perfect combination of uneasiness and agitation for Scott, which did not go unnoticed by his mother. Chalking her son's odd behavior up to the annual sicknesses that frequented high schools during the winter months, Melissa McCall deemed it necessary for Scott to miss a few days of school in order to prevent the spread of whatever virus he had contracted.
By the third day of no school, Scott found that the separation between himself and his peers was more difficult than he had been anticipating. The frequent chatter of Stiles at school was replaced with television and video games, while the brief kisses and smiles of Allison were replaced with longing glances to the missed call log on his cell phone. Grabbing his headphones and iPod, Scott flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. In an attempt to drown out the constant chatter in his mind, Scott blared the music to the point where even his wolf-hearing could no longer make out anything other than the steady beat of the drum set in the song. Tuning out all of his surroundings, Scott was unaware that his furious girlfriend had climbed through his window and was standing above him.
Picking up a discarded pillow from the floor, Allison Argent used all of her power, most of which stemmed from pent-up of frustration with the men in her life, and smacked her unsuspecting boyfriend in the head. Leaping off the bed in a state of shock, Scott McCall turned his piercing yellow eyes on his irate girlfriend. Quickly realizing who had attacked him in his room, Scott took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm him-self and remove any trace of his wolf-form. While Scott was doing this, Allison reared back and smacked him for the second time with the pillow. Stumbling back, Scott peered at Allison with a look of astonishment.
"Don't. Don't you dare look at me like that. I've called you two dozen times in the last week, left half a dozen messages, and have stuttered like an idiot when people have asked me if you're okay. I mean, I can't blame them can I, I'm your girlfriend so naturally they would assume that I have some idea as to what's happened to you." Now pacing across Scott's bedroom floor, Allison is becoming more exasperated. "Seriously Scott, after everything that's happened in the past few weeks, I expected the lying to be done with," Allison said with a look of utter disgust. "If I had known that you'd be keeping even more secrets from me, I wouldn't have…"
"Wouldn't have what?" Scott's question was rhetorical. He knew full well what she wouldn't have done. The reciprocated "I love you" seemed far too good to be true. During the last full moon he had imagined a lot of crazy things, however, the one thing that seemed logical to him was the question that he thought was presented to him on his economics test. Why would a girl that pretty ever go out with a loser like you? He had pondered the question multiple times throughout the course of his relationship with Allison, more so since her discovery of him being a werewolf. The insecurities that had plagued Scott since childhood had come out in full force since meeting the stunning Allison Argent. Smart. Pretty. Funny. Perfect. Even during the happiest times of their relationship, Scott was waiting. Waiting for the moment when she would suddenly realize that Scott McCall wasn't even close to being in the same league as herself.
"I wouldn't have freaked out at my dad after finding out about the little deal the two of you made behind my back. I basically told him that I'd rather be dating werewolves than hurting them. I even left home for a few days and stayed with Lydia. I don't think he's ever been that pissed at me, and I wouldn't have done it if I knew that you were going to avoid me." The look on her face was one of complete betrayal but Scott didn't see it, nor did he fully process what his girlfriend just told him.
"Look Allison it's okay really. I get it. You don't love me and you regret telling me you did. Seriously. Totally understandable. It was crazy to think that you liked me let alone lov…oof!" Mid-sentence Scott was once again hit upside the head with what used to be his favorite pillow.
"Seriously Scott? Will you just listen for once! Get it through your head, I loved you before I knew you were a wolf and I still do. I just can't believe you would do something so stupid, like make a deal with my father regarding our relationship, and not talk to me about it." Allison's anger came out in full force as she began to quicken her well-rehearsed speech. "Not only did you not talk to me, you completely ignored me. Did you even listen to the voicemails I left you?" Allison's exasperation with her boyfriend was evident.
"Uh… I wanted to, but I told your dad that I would stay away from you and I was afraid that if I heard your voice I wouldn't be able to stop myself from talking to you." The confession came out in a jumbled rush.
The eye-roll that followed from Allison couldn't be matched by anyone, including the King of Sarcasm Stiles Stilinsky. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath Allison prepared to reprimand her boyfriend once again. Opening her eyes and looking at Scott, she was struck by his appearance. He looked… pitiful. Not in a way that made him seem weak or like a loser. No, he looked pitiful in a way that made her realize the extent of his feelings for her. He looked like… a heartbroken puppy. The comparison of Scott to a puppy was too much for Allison and caused an enormous grin to break out across her face. Suddenly she collapsed on the bed laughing.
Scott, who had been staring at his feet in an ashamed way, looked up at his girlfriend's sudden display of happiness. Looking quizzically towards Allison, Scott was met with an image that he wouldn't have expected to see for quite some time after the fury that was just unleashed on him. While attempting to compose herself, still letting out the occasional giggle, Allison once again peered at Scott. Behind the look of utter bewilderment, Allison saw something in Scott that quickly sobered her and wiped the childish grin off of her face. Studying Scott, Allison realized for the first time how absolutely exhausted he must be. The look of anguish that was found on Scott's face was accentuated by dark circles located beneath each of his eyes.
"What happened to you? Are you hurt?" Forgetting her frustration with her boyfriend, Allison knelt at the edge of the bed and closely examined Scott's face. Using her thumb to trace the bags under Scott's eyes, Allison quickly morphed into a protective girlfriend. "Have you not been sleeping?"
The question was innocent enough, however, based on Scott's reaction, you would have thought Allison had just asked him about the most intimate of subjects. The abashed look that appeared on Scott's face was paired with his eyes quickly finding solace in the appearance of the ceiling.
"Uh, I've kinda been keeping an eye on you. Not in a creepy stalker way or anything! It's just I was worried about you, after everything that happened with Peter and your aunt I mean, but I told your dad I'd stay away so… I've just been watching you sleep. And saying it out loud I hear how creepy it is, but honestly I just wanted to make sure that you were safe and I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfort…" For the second time that day Scott was cut off mid-sentence, this time not by a smack to the head, but by a searing kiss from the girl he was in love with.
Breaking apart the two teenagers locked eyes with one another. A coy smile blossomed across Allison's face as she gazed at the amazed look on Scott's face. "Why did you do that?" He asked the question with a mischievous grin, which was quickly mirrored by Allison. "Because I love you."
End Flashback
Rain. Perfect. The uphill journey to the highway at the edge of the forest was difficult enough for the quickly weakening Scott. The downpour that came out of nowhere was transforming the already damp forest floor into a muddy gauntlet. For every foot of progress came a two-foot decrease in improvement. Slipping his way to the top of the muddy hill, Scott was greeted with the last barrier that separated him from some semblance of safety. Standing at the edge of town, Scott was hit with a wave of dizziness that alerted him of how badly he needed help. Needing to divert his attention from the numbness caused by the rain, the pain caused by the wounds, and the fear caused by those who were chasing him, Scott thought of anything and everything he could to propel himself towards help.
The night was already the worst of Scott's life. And it seemed that it wouldn't be getting better anytime soon. The mile walk back into town gave him plenty of time to decide his best course of action. Going home was out of the question, it's the first place they'd expect him to go. Stiles' house was an option but he didn't really feel like facing the onslaught of questions that his friend would ask him. He needed to go to a place where someone, who already knew about him, could help him with his injuries. He knew that he didn't have long. He was growing weaker by the second and didn't think that he'd be able to stay conscious much longer. The amount of blood that he'd lost was definitely problematic and he needed someone he could trust. Or maybe… he needed someone that he shouldn't trust, yet for some reason did.
Redoubling his pace Scott staggered his way to a house that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. A place that he'd been forbidden from visiting again. Collapsing against the door, Scott simultaneously rang the doorbell and pounded his fist against the door. Hearing footsteps he took a step back from the door, fully aware of how awful he must look. Bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, standing on one leg in an attempt to keep all of the weight off of his other aching one, mud and blood staining every inch of his clothing. He was a mess, standing dejectedly with the rain beating down on him. The door opened and Scott made his plea. "Please. You're the only one I could come to. I need your help." And with that everything when black as Scott collapsed across the doorstep.