01

"Scott. Wake up."

The voice, soft but insistent, filtered through Scott's sleep-fogged brain, drawing him back to consciousness. Cracking his eyes open, he smacked his lips together, then rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve a dull ache at the base of his neck. Squinting, he craned his neck and looked around, momentarily unsure of where he was. It took a second for his memories to catch up to reality, but when he spotted a familiar figure standing next to him, he let out a little groan and let his head fall back.

"Ah, crap. I fell asleep again, didn't I?"

"Yep," Malia confirmed, smirking as she shoved his feet off the couch and claimed the spot they'd been occupying. "You made it almost halfway through this time though. That's farther than I thought you'd get."

He just grunted as he sat up and leaned forward, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. It was the third time he'd tried to watch her favourite movie with her, and the third time he hadn't been able to stay awake through the whole thing. In his defense, falling asleep during late night movie marathons with her was something he did fairly often, a trend she was fully aware of. They'd certainly had enough of them over the past weeks, months, little welcome escapes from studying as he tried his best to help her with school and graduation.

"Sorry," he muttered, stretching his arms until he heard and felt a satisfying crack. "I'll finish it next time, I promise."

"Sure, just like you promised this time."

There was no heat in her words, just a teasing edge, and he couldn't help but grin. That was Malia. He'd developed a real appreciation for her as they'd grown closer to each other, partly for the sharp sense of humour and playfulness she tended to bury under her bluntly aggressive exterior.

If he was being honest with himself, it was a little more than an appreciation. When he was by himself, it was easier to admit the truth. That he enjoyed being around her, with her, as often as he could. That he'd been growing closer to her over the summer, and even beyond that, back during the whole situation with the Wild Hunt. That when she wasn't around, his thoughts tended to stray to her, to what she was doing, to when he'd see her next. That when he went to bed, closed his eyes, it was her face he saw, her voice he heard. That when he had nothing to do and reached for his phone, hers was always the first name he scrolled to, before Stiles, before Lydia, before anybody else. That every time she smiled at him, touched him, he felt that tell-tale swooping sensation in his stomach he hadn't felt since he'd ended things with Kira.

He knew what it was, what it meant.

Unfortunately, when he was with her, which was more often than not these days, the words just wouldn't come out. He wasn't really sure why. He must have made up his mind to say something a dozen times already. He knew exactly what he wanted with her, what direction he desperately desired to take their relationship in. But there was always some complication to avoid, some reason why things were better off as they were. Some excuse not to make a move. And so he kept his feelings to himself, they stayed friends, and the same remained the same.

Stretching again, his mouth opened wide in a massive yawn, then twisted into a frown. "Why'd you wake me up?"

"Why?" She smirked. "Were you having a nice dream?" When he just rolled his eyes, she huffed out an amused breath and shook her head. "Your phone was going off." Leaning forward, she snagged it off the coffee table and handed it to him.

"You could have checked it," he said, accepting it from her and unlocking it. "It's probably just my mom. Oh, no, wait, it's Lydia." His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned through the two missed calls and six texts she'd left him in the last ten minutes, all urgent prompts for him to call her back. As he reached the last one, another one came through, this time in all caps. "What the hell?"

"What's up?"

"She wants me to call her. Like, really bad."

"Maybe she's just lonely," Malia offered hopefully, as she lifted up slightly and tucked her legs underneath herself. "It's been a whole week since Stiles left. I went to her house for lunch yesterday, and she would not let me leave. I seriously considered climbing out her window when she was in the bathroom."

He raised an eyebrow and turned his phone around so she could see the screen. "That look like loneliness to you?"

"No," she admitted, whole body slumping as an annoyed frown spread across her face. "It looks like trouble. Damn it. We were doing so well. I haven't had to clean blood out of my clothes in, like, a month."

Shaking his head, he let out an amused snort as he called Lydia, who picked up almost instantly. "Scott!" Just the way she said his name had his heart sinking. There was a certain mix of terror and panic in her voice that she only seemed to get when her Banshee powers were working overtime. "Parrish is in trouble."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know! I woke up and I just knew something was wrong. I called Sheriff Stilinski, but he said Jordan was off-duty and he couldn't get in touch with him and I don't know who else to call and my car is in the shop and—"

"Lydia! Stop!" She fell silent as soon as he barked out her name, and even Malia's eyes widened a little at his sudden outburst. He didn't like taking such a harsh tone with his friend, but he could hear the panic growing in her voice, and if Parrish really was in trouble, her freaking out now wasn't going to do anybody any favours. "Calm down, take a deep breath. I'm sure he's fine. He's a Hellhound," he reasoned, lowering his voice, trying to keep it as soft, as soothing as possible.

"Scott." This time, her voice, while still shot through with an undercurrent of terror that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, was barely above a whisper. "I think he's dying."

There was no way he could take that lightly, not with her power, her history. Hellhound or not, Parrish was a friend, and her record with this kind of thing just couldn't be ignored. "Okay, okay. What do you want to do?"

"Are you at home?"

"No, I'm with Malia. We're at her place."

"Good. That'll save time." There was a hint of relief in her voice for the first time. "Can the two of you come pick me up. I think... I think I can find him. There's something pulling me..." She trailed off, voice losing focus as it softened. "Just—just get here quick. Please."

Malia was already up and heading for the door when he looked up. "You catch all that?" he asked as he stood and slid his phone into his pocket.

"Yeah." She grabbed her keys off the counter as he fell into step behind her. "Let's go."

-l-l-l-l-

Lydia was waiting outside her front door when they pulled into her driveway, pacing back and forth, hands clasped together. As soon as they stopped, she wasted no time in sliding into the backseat, already urging Malia to drive before the door was fully closed. "Head north," she commanded, settling back into the seat as they took off.

Turning in his seat, Scott took a second to look over his friend. What he saw concerned him. She looked ruffled, out of sorts. Out of all his friends, she was the one who knew how to hold it together under the worst circumstances. But not tonight. He knew how much care she put into maintaining her appearance, and though he'd seen her at less than her best more than a few times over the years, it was still a little jarring to see her hair so out of place, her clothing wrinkled and carelessly thrown on. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying, though she wasn't now.

"Turn here." She leaned forward to stare out the windshield, eyes laser-focused on the road ahead. "Faster!"

"Lydia," he said softly, repeating it a second later when her eyes remained glued to the road. "It'll be all right." He extended his hand toward her, palm up, and she grasped onto it tight, squeezing hard, like she was afraid if she let go, something horrible would happen. When her eyes finally centered on his, he smiled reassuringly. "It's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be fine. Okay?" He held her gaze until she nodded, slowly, hesitantly.

"Did you see any specifics?" Malia asked, eyeing her in the rear-view mirror.

"I didn't see anything. I just know something is wrong! I can feel it! I—left! Go left!" She leaned forward so far, she was almost in the front of the car with them as she pointed out where to turn.

As they tore down the narrow side-street, Scott turned back around and looked out his own window. He knew the area pretty well, well enough to know there was no good reason for anyone to be out there. They were almost on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, where all there was were some cheap motels and second-rate fast food joints and dive bars. He had no idea what Parrish would have been doing out here, especially if he wasn't working. There were better places to go for food, and he didn't seem the type to spend much time in nameless motels or bars.

"Stop!"

The sudden shriek from the backseat had him cringing and reaching for his ears, even as Malia pulled off to the shoulder of the road, just before a dimly-lit intersection. They both turned in their seats to look at Lydia, but she ignored them, already reaching for the door handle. Before he could catch her, she opened it and darted out onto the dark street. Cursing under his breath, he went after her, trailing along behind as she headed for the sidewalk, running a lot faster than he would have expected for somebody with legs as short as hers.

"Where's she going?" Malia called, hot on his heels as they pounded after her.

Before he could respond, Lydia abruptly halted, right in the middle of a nearly-empty parking lot. He stopped behind her, watching closely as she turned in a circle, eyes open wide and staring. Malia came up beside him and he motioned for her to stay quiet, both looking on as their friend scanned around the lot, an expression of intense concentration on her face, searching for whatever was calling to her.

"There!" she cried, taking off again in the direction of the motel. This time, she stopped beside a dark SUV parked right outside the building, under a flickering light. "This is his car," she said as she circled the vehicle, shaking her head. "But he's not here. He's not here. He's not here."

Hearing the rising edge of panic in her repeated words, Scott quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulders from behind and pulled her close, hoping a physical connection might keep her grounded. It seemed to work, because she didn't lose it, just shrinking back into him as she stared at the SUV, trembling. Catching Malia's eye, he nodded toward the car, and she immediately went to work, slowly making her way around it, checking for any signs of what may have happened to Parrish.

"I found his phone, but it's locked," she said, once she was finished. Stepping back over to them, she handed it to him and he briefly examined it, before sliding it into his pocket. Looking back at the SUV, she frowned and shook her head. "There's nothing here. But... do you smell that?"

"Yeah," he replied grimly, mirroring her expression as he met her gaze. "Blood."

"Jordan's blood?" Lydia's voice was small, scared, as she clutched at his arm with both hands.

"Maybe," he said softly. "It's really weak, so it's kind of hard to tell."

"No fire or smoke," Malia noted, as she turned to consider the car again, eyes narrowed. "If he was attacked, you'd expect fire, right? I mean, Hellhound, fire. It's sort of his thing."

He shrugged. "Maybe they knocked him out."

"Can you track it?" The soft question drew their attention back to Lydia, who was still staring, unblinking, at the abandoned SUV. "His blood. Can you track it?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said slowly, after considering it for a moment. The scent wasn't very strong, either because there wasn't a lot of blood or because too much time had passed, but it was still there. He wasn't about to hand out any guarantees, but if it stayed at least this strong, he thought there was a pretty decent chance he'd be able to follow it. Meeting Malia's gaze, he gestured for her to take Lydia. "You two wait here while I go. And call the Sheriff. And maybe Liam." More back-up definitely couldn't hurt.

Crossing her arms, she scoffed and levelled a defiant look at him. "Fat chance, Scott. If there's somebody out there who can take out a Hellhound, there's no way I'm letting you go alone." Her tone was hard, her expression set.

"We're all going," Lydia stated before he could argue, the finality in her suddenly stronger voice leaving no room for debate. "Now, let's go!"

At her urging, he moved closer to the SUV and found the spot where the scent was strongest. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath through his nose, making sure he had the best possible handle on the blood, as Malia did the same thing next to him. Once he was sure, he caught her eye, and when she nodded firmly, he turned and began to follow the trail, heading toward the far side of the lot. She stayed at his side as Lydia stuck close behind them, eyes darting around like she was expecting, hoping the missing deputy would appear out of the dark at any second.

The scent remained strong enough to follow as they passed out of the lot and onto the road running along its right side. It was slow going, but the lack of people in the area helped a bit, keeping the competing smells down. They crossed the road into another parking lot, this one outside a twenty-four hour convenience store. The trail led around back behind the building and up to a chain-link fence.

"He was definitely here," Scott said, stopping next to it and running his hand over the cold metal links.

"How can you tell?"

"He left something behind." Reaching out, Malia snagged the torn piece of fabric that was stuck to a sharp edge on the top of the fence and held it up for Lydia to see. "Looks like part of a shirt. And there's definitely blood on it."

"Still no fire though," he muttered, as he led them toward the opening in the fence. "Why didn't he fight? He made the decision to jump over this, so he must have been conscious. Why run? Why not fight?"

It was a good question, but one he didn't expect any answer to. Mostly because there was no good answer. He knew Parrish well enough to know the man wasn't afraid of much. Even before he became a Hellhound, he was disarming bombs for the military. With the supernatural upgrade, he was basically a walking, talking inferno with super strength and near-invulnerability. He'd taken on the Beast repeatedly and never flinched or backed down. Anything that could make a man like that run wasn't something he was sure he wanted to meet.

Behind the fence was a narrow strip of pavement that ended where it met a line of trees. The group didn't hesitate, leaving behind the flickering streetlights and rundown buildings as they stepped into the woods. Scott glowed his eyes immediately, as the moon was obscured by the branches over their heads, blanketing them all in darkness. He felt Lydia tense up behind him, basically blind, and slowed his pace so she could stick as close as possible.

The farther the trio went, the stronger the scent of blood got, to the point he began to worry the Hellhound might actually bleed out before they could find him. Beside him, Malia's head was on a swivel, her posture tense, the blood putting her on edge. Without thought, he reached out and took her hand in his, only realising what he'd done when she squeezed softly. Suddenly, he was thankful for the darkness, because it was a lot easier to not get flustered when he could pretend she couldn't just look over and see him.

Abruptly, she stopped in her tracks, dragging him to a halt. "Do you hear that?"

Tilting his head, he concentrated, trying to hear whatever noise she'd picked up on. A second later, he heard it. Somebody was breathing, slow and shallow, each breath bubbling out with a disturbingly wet sound.

"Through here."

Releasing her hand, he darted forward, relying on his reflexes to keep him on his feet as he dodged through the trees, heading for the source of the breathing. He could hear the two girls behind him, but he was quicker, crashing through branches and leaves, until he suddenly emerged in a moon-lit clearing and found what he was looking for. Across from him, lying face-down in a shallow trench that might have been a creek if it had rained lately, was the missing deputy. And even in the dark, and from a distance, Scott could see how badly he was hurt. He was shirtless, his back a bloody mass of cuts and gashes. But worse than that was the back of his neck and head. It looked like somebody had taken a knife to it, carving him up like a piece of meat.

"Oh, Jesus, man." He could hear the dread in his own voice, even as he raced across the clearing and fell to his knees next to the man. Up close, it was even worse. He grimaced as he looked down at the mess that had been the back of Parrish's head, hands out to his sides as he tried to figure out what to do with them, hesitant to touch him, to make things any worse. "Ah, shit!"

"Scott? Is he there? Did you find him?"

Before he could stop them, his friends burst into the clearing and bee-lined toward him. Malia took one look and immediately stopped short, reaching out to grab Lydia, but she shook her off, continued forward.

"Oh my God," she breathed, expression horrified as she sank down next to him, studying the deputy's fallen form closely. "Is he dead?" Her voice was deceptively calm as she looked down at the horrendous wounds, despite the look on her face and obvious tension in her body.

"No. He's breathing."

"Why isn't he healing?" Malia asked, peering down over Lydia's shoulder. "Shouldn't he be..." She waved her arms around. "Like, on fire or something?"

"I don't know," he said, trying to avoid breathing in too much as the overpowering scent of blood flooded his senses. "Do we—should we try to turn him over?" He looked at Lydia as he asked, but she seemed lost, eyes wide, staring, locked on the brutalised man.

Gritting his teeth, he decided to just go for it, and as gently as he could, he found the least damaged area on the Hellhound's torso and slowly flipped him over onto his back. Immediately, Lydia clapped a hand over her mouth and shrank back. There were two gaping holes in his chest, gunshot wounds, and a thick black liquid, almost like motor oil, was slowly dribbling out of both. Curious, he reached out and got a bit on his finger, then sniffed it gingerly. It didn't have much of a smell, but there was something repulsive about it, something that made a part of him recoil, even though he couldn't place it.

"Shit." Malia's sudden curse had him looking up, finding her frowning, brows knit in concern.

"What?"

"His heartbeat. It's getting slower."

He looked back at Parrish, taking note for the first time of his pulse. Sure enough, he could hear it getting weaker, sluggish. They had to act. "Give me a hand to get him up." Crouching down, Malia mirrored the grip he had on the deputy from the other side, as Lydia rose and stepped out of the way. Working as carefully as they could, the gently hoisted him to his feet, taking his weight on themselves as they tried their best not to jar him too much. "Call Deaton," he said as they started forward, moving as quickly as they could under the circumstances. He was a little surprised at how steady his voice was. "Tell him to meet us at the clinic. Tell him—just tell him we need him."

Pulling out her phone with shaky hands, Lydia did as she was asked, while he concentrated on the path ahead. He could feel the blood on his arm, still dripping from Parrish's wounds, and grimaced. The Hellhound's heartbeat was growing steadily weaker, his breathing more laboured, shallower.

"Come on," he muttered, looking at Malia and seeing the same anxiety, the same fear clouding his mind mirrored in her eyes. "Just hold on, man. Just hold on."

AN: Not a one-shot this time, but probably not a very long story. I'm thinking five, maybe six chapters for this one, though I make no guarantees. I wanted to do something with Parrish, and Hellhounds in general, and I figured I could weave a little Scott/Malia love in there along the way too. I've been going pretty heavy on the romance lately, so the action part of me wanted to get a little bloody again, so that'll come along soon enough. Let me know what you think.

Update (2019/02/10): I'm finally looking at completing this story, and I've done a few edits to move that process along. None of the main plot points have changed, but I've touched up the first two chapters a bit and moved the story slightly farther along than it originally was, so rereading probably isn't the worst idea if it's been awhile for you. The plan is still to do more action than I've done in other stories, but we'll see how it plays out.