This is my first Teen Wolf fic so PLEASE go easy on me...


Allison banged on the door as loudly as she could, wildly screaming Melissa's name. She can hear Scott's labored breathing from behind her, where Lydia and Stiles are holding him up. It didn't surprised Allison that Lydia was the one carrying most of his weight, though Stiles attempted to appear strong. He was failing.

"Melissa, please!" Allison sobbed, her hand hitting the door just as it swung open. She fell forward from the momentum, falling into the doorway. And there was Melissa McCall, standing there in pajamas, her hair and eyes wild, her face horrified as she took in her son's unconscious body in the arms of his friends.

"Get him in here!" she said in a voice steadier than Allison would have expected. Stiles and Lydia hauled Scott inside, dragging him sluggishly to the kitchen table, which would serve as a makeshift operating table. "What happened?" Melissa asked calmly as she shuffled through cabinets, presumably, Allison assumed, in search of a first-aid kit.

"We were studying at my house. Scott went to grab a textbook from Stiles's car and he didn't come back. We found him in the street like this," Lydia explained, her voice shaking. Stiles clasped a hand protectively on her shoulder. She smiled ever so slightly.

"Do you know who it was?"

"No idea," Allison whispered, taking a towel from Melissa's hand and pressing it to one of Scott's many gushing wounds.

"And Deaton?" Melissa wondered. In the case of werewolf-related-injury, Scott usually turned to Deaton for help.

"He's out of town for the weekend," Stiles answered, his voice barely a whisper. Looking at him made Allison shudder - he looked so tortured, so horrified. Allison felt her stomach drop. "And he's not answering his phone . . . We didn't know what to do."

"Here," Melissa said, handing Stiles and Lydia towels as well, than instructing them on what to do. "Why isn't he healing? He shouldn't still be bleeding . . . at least not this much."

"We don't know . . . It's like his whole system is down. He didn't shift, either. Usually when he's fighting someone, and always when he's injured, he shifts," Allison mumbles, her voice now starting to show her nerves. "It's like someone de-wolfed him."

"That's not possible," Lydia stated.

"Well, it has to be because it's happening!" Stiles countered. Melissa shushed them both.

"We need to focus. He has three serious wounds - the one's you're putting pressure on - and a few minor ones. If we can get those to stop bleeding, he should be fine. But judging by the amount of blood he's already lost we don't have a lot of time . . . and his breathing isn't good. His heart rate isn't right, either. We need to do this fast, alright?" Melissa declared in her nurse-voice. If you weren't looking at her face, you'd assume she was just another nurse dealing with some random patient. But when Allison glanced at her face, she saw the terror flaming in her eyes, the sweat dripping down her face, the nervous tension in her lips. Allison wanted to whimper, but she held it in. She had to be strong. She had to focus.

After ten minutes of following Melissa's detailed instructions, the bleeding had mostly stopped. The wounds were wrapped and Scott's breathing had steadied. Stiles even called Isaac, who picked up some materials from the hospital for Melissa, including a pint of blood that was currently being fed into Scott's veins. The kitchen table really did look like an operating table with its bloody towels, assortment of tools, and even a few syringes that Isaac had brought. When Stiles had asked why Melissa had so much equipment at her house, Melissa had shrugged her shoulders and said, "When you have a werewolf for a son, you tend to get a little overcautious." Allison couldn't blame her.

"His heart rate's better, and his breathing sounds okay," Melissa said now, leaning over him and pressing her ear to his chest. "I'm not sure about the wounds, though. They're still not healing. Stiles, could you try Deaton again?"

"Yeah, sure," he nodded, stepping into the other room. Lydia followed him, nervously playing with her hair.

Melissa leaned her hands on the table and bent her head down, taking a long breath. Allison felt the urge to place a hand on her back, but didn't. She also felt an urge to climb atop the table and lay down beside Scott, but she didn't do that either. Melissa composed herself and placed a gentle kiss on Scott's forehead. He didn't even twitch. She took a deep breath and then headed towards the sink to wash her hands, which were stained scarlet. Allison took the moment to gently wrap her hand around Scotts, give it a squeeze, and then step away.

Even though they'd been broken up for a while now, she knew she still loved him. She had never stopped. But seeing him so close to death tonight reminded her of that love, of that need, for Scott. And she prayed to God that she wouldn't lose it as soon as she had found it again.

"Allison," Melissa whispered, but she didn't really hear her. She was too lost in her mind, staring at Scott's lifeless body. "Allison, Allison, look!" Melissa called again, now shaking her shoulders.

Allison's head popped up and she followed Melissa's gaze to one of the small cuts on his chest, which was now closing up, healing instantly. Her eyes darted to the other scrapes and scars, which were all doing the same. Melissa's eyes locked with hers and they both pealed back the bandages covering the huge tears in his skin. They were healing.

"What . . . why now?" Allison whispered, trying to figure out what started the delayed process. For some reason, her eyes snapped to the clock, which read 12:00 am, exactly. Her mind buzzed as she tried to understand this all - that something about the change in day had triggered Scott's immune system.

"It's as if he was just human for the day," Melissa whispered, covering the wounds back up. "Did he shift at all today? Did any of them?" By them, it was obvious she meant the other wolves.

Allison thought about the day, how it had been pretty quiet and calm until an hour ago. "No . . . What do you think it means?"

"I have no idea," Melissa shook her head. "But I think you sh-"

She didn't get to finish, as Scott's convulsing body swallowed her words. His body shook and his back arched, rising high above the table. Allison saw his claws extend, his arms stretching out to the sides in a desperate sort of way. His eyes popped open; two brilliant circles of red that pierced through the darkness. And his mouth opened up, fangs sharp and ready, and he let out a growl. The bandages popped off almost magically, revealing perfectly healed skin. Melissa and Allison locked eyes in confusion and relief.

And then it was over. He fell back against the table, unconscious once again, and the split second of his transformation was just a memory. Neither of them knew what had happened, but neither of them seemed to care. They both let out sighs of relief and Allison fought back tears. Whatever went on today - yesterday? - as weird as it was, was over. Scott would be fine, Deaton would probably shed some light on the situation, and everything would be okay.

She smiled to herself as Stiles poked his head into the room, his face full of panic. Allison couldn't help but laugh, her eyes settling back on the unconscious figure lying on the table. As weird as the day was, it helped her realize one thing: she still loved Scott. And she was determined to make things right again.


Okay so I have no idea what that just was...It was supposed to be a Scallison fic but then it turned into a mother/son kind of thing and then I tried to create some weird werewolf mystery thing but I didn't know how to write that so this fic was kind of just a mess...Sorry? I posted it anyway though cause I might as well...Maybe I'd be better off writing if I had a specific prompt. So if you have any ideas, PM me and I'd be happy to do them! This was I guess a test-fic to see how I could write for Teen Wolf...