Powerless — Scott


A random thought I've developed after re-watching Season 3A. Character death. Made with a healthy dose Sciles bromance and some Scallison on the sidelines. Character death, I guess. Oh, and I do not own Teen Wolf.


Scott stood in front of the narrow, metal tub filled to the brim with ice water. His heart was hammering with Allison's guilt-ridden face still fresh in his memories. A spot near his lungs ached at the thought when suddenly, a voice spoke up behind him. It was his boss, Deaton, the veterinarian who also happened to serve as his pack's emissary and druid. Scott's heart had jumped, surprised that his boss suddenly spoke up behind him just when he was about to jump into a tub to serve as a surrogate sacrifice for his Mom.

The look on Deaton's face was clear: have patience. Scott drummed his fingers against his legs, anxious to get into the tub to save his Mom. "Now," Deaton spoke up while he inspected the tubs. "I want you all to take a good look at your anchors," hearing the words made Scott's heart ache. He wanted to look at Allison because he still believe that she's still his anchor to humanity even after they had broken up. Eventually, Scott forced himself to look at the watch inside his palm.

Scott looked at his palm and what was inside his hand—it was a vintage watch, bronze casing and fitted with leather straps on both ends. Scott honestly didn't know why he had chosen the watch as his anchor. Like he had said earlier, it was a reminder of his parents' failed marriage. While Scott considered himself as a somewhat successful product of the marriage, beside himself, the watch was the only thing that worked in the relationship and now that the watch stopped working after the battery had run out (Along with his constant screw-up's that often endangered him and the people he care about.), he's afraid that there's nothing that can redeem whatever his parents had.

Scott's chest grew heavy. What if his existence was a mistake along with his parents' marriage?

While Scott was busy with self-pity, he picked up this depressing chemo-signal right beside him. It was from Stiles, concentrated at staring at the dented and damaged piece of folded metal in his hand. It was his father's badge, crushed by Kali. Immediately, Scott felt guilty. He felt like he had all the problems in the world when there was Stiles who had seemed to have inherited all the misfortune the Universe could bestow upon someone—his best friend lost his mother at such a young age (Scott honestly wouldn't know what to do should anything happen to his mother.), and for a moment just after losing her, he almost lost his Dad to grief.

Scott's eyes darted towards the badge in Stiles' hand. To him, the badge meant many things. For starters, it meant that whatever he had been doing with Stiles has got to stop because they would end up in deep shit and they'd be grounded for weeks on end before they'd be allowed to hang out around each other. But besides the premonition of trouble the badge brought to him, the folded piece of metal happened to give Scott a sense of safety and security. Police and law enforcement became a touchy subject for Scott after his father suddenly took off without a word or a single goodbye, but with Stiles' Dad, Scott felt comfort and he felt so safe around him. Lastly, Scott felt like he had a father when the badge came off.

He remembered all the late nights his Mom had to pull off, the need of covering for other nurses' shifts because the hospital had a shortage of employees and staff back then when he was young. It was the Sheriff, back then still a deputy, who agreed to watch over him even if Stiles happened to be too much of a handful. It was the Sheriff who agreed to go and fetch him from school when his Mom received a call from the nurse's office that he was down with the flu.

Mr. Stilinski was more than a family friend or Beacon Hill's Sheriff. No, to Scott, he's his father. And Stiles, his brother.

Scott gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder and earned a tight smile. The movement in front of him jarred him back to reality. "These anchors may not look much in the moment," Scott stared at Deaton when he had opened a jar and took a handful of this black powder and generously poured it into the metal tubs. "In fact, they may look worn down and broken to some. To people with no emotional connection, your anchors may look like trash, even," Scott's mind wandered to Isaac.

Did he have an anchor that could have connected him to his father besides his anger and his wish to bring him back alive only so he could kill the man himself?

Dipping his hand into the ice water of each tub, Deaton spoke up, obviously left unshaken by the freezing temperature. "These items you've chosen, these material objects may not seem much but after crossing the boundary of life and death, after transferring your subconscious into the spiritual realm, once you've tapped into other side of the supernatural world, your anchors' form will have changed into something more defined. Perhaps it will take its form before to suit your memory much better and to serve as better anchors," Scott could see the confusion written all over Stiles' face.

Stiles coughed up, his eyes still drawn to the badge in his hand. "But didn't you say that appearances didn't matter?" Scott could see that Allison's face held confusion, her fingers in a tight fist in an attempt to envelope her father's bullet. Her knuckles were already white with the force she had been exerting to keep herself in check. "That it's the sentimental value that matters?"

Scott only saw it once, the silver bullet her father had made after completing his training to become a werewolf hunter. He remembered the cloudy metal, how it had lost its glimmer and shine. It was covered in dust and dirt, dents and scratches scattered all over the small bullet.

Scott felt like the bullet represented Argent himself. The bullet was worn and damaged, just like Argent after everything he's went through and after everyone he's lost in the way.

Deaton spoke up. "That may be true," Stiles kept watching the veterinarian as Scott felt the watch grow heavier by the minute. He didn't bother controlling his heart beat for Isaac. He's too tired now. "But these items you've chosen, they aren't just just objects that can weigh all of you down to your lives and to your respective humanities," a jar was opened and Scott inhaled the scent of mint leaves before the green sprigs were thrown into the tubs. "They're also triggers—you chose the these material possessions because they hold sentimental value, a memory that could give you the will to fight when you will have lost your ability to believe in a cause much like any other memory or any other anchor." Deaton held his hand out.

Scott suddenly felt all that all eyes were on him. "Scott, would you mind lending me that watch?" reluctantly, Scott gave his boss the watch before he had tossed it to Isaac. Scott almost cringed at the sight, momentarily forgetting about the fact that Isaac himself was a werewolf who could catch the watch at a moment's notice. "Tell me, what do you see in this watch?"

Isaac held it with two fingers at one of the strap's end. Scott was so afraid that he'd drop it as easily as he had watched his parents' marriage crumble before his eyes, like how easy it was to wake up in the middle of the night only to hear his parents shouting at each other or hearing his mother cry until she lost her voice. He remembered the tears. Scott gulped. His mother was crying and he did nothing.

"Besides being old? The glass is broken and the battery's dead," Deaton nodded and gestured for him to bring it back to Scott, who gripped it inside his hands for as tight as he could without breaking the old watch.

"Now, Scott, I want you to smell the watch and tell me of what you've observed," as much as Scott wanted to ditch the whole humanities lesson, he followed and lifted the watch closer to his face and sniffed it. At first, he only smelled himself and the clammy hand he had when he took the watch from the jewelry box from his Mom's room. But then, he smelled something different, something familiar. Scott caught his mother's scent, but more importantly, he caught a chemo-signal and she seems so happy and along with that old chemo-signal was an equally old scent of his father.

"She's happy. With my Dad, she was happy." Scott felt like he could breathe again with the weight lifted off of his chest. His lungs no longer felt like they were being squeezed by this weight that seemed to suffocate him all along.

Maybe he wasn't a mistake, after all.

"And that's how you'll need your anchors. Scott, just earlier you were thinking of a possibility where maybe, your existence was a mistake. Just like that, with darkness inside your heart, you could have easily given up." Deaton stepped forward and gave Scott an embrace before adding a pinch of brown powder to the ice water. "You will all be shrouded in darkness while you're in the spiritual realm, a lot of negativity and evil spirits trying to trap you down there—or worse, try and possess you to gain access to our world—you will be at your weakest and lowest point," Deaton gave a small smile. "But, when you reach that certain point, you are all open to your greatest change."

"Don't doubt ourselves. Don't be brooding teenagers, got it," Stiles muttered to himself, readying himself by folding his pants. "Yup, no problem, no biggie."

"Oh, and another thing, should you doubt yourselves, your anchors will help bring you back—just like with Scott. But your anchors can only hold so much and there's nothing I can do to protect your anchor." Deaton placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Do not lose your anchors, and protect it as much as you can—do not break it, do not allow any spirit to break it—because if you lose your tether to this realm, there's so little a druid can do to bring any of you back, not to mention the dangers of using a broken anchor to bring you back." Scott gave Stiles a look. There was a silent goodbye and an unspoken exchange of thanks for everything they've done to each other.

Finally, Scott stepped forward and got inside the tub. The moment his skin met the water, he closed his eyes and shivered. His breathing slowed down and his head ached. The water was just too damn cold for him. "Hey Scott?" Scott's attention was called out, his head turned to a side only to see his best friend shivering as much as he was. "If I don't make it out of this and you do," Scott wanted to tell him not to think that way. That he wasn't going to die from this, but it was like Scott lost the ability to speak. "I want you to know that your Dad's back in town," Scott shook his head.

The last thing he needed was another person to explain the whole supernatural situation to. And the last responsibility he needed was another life to protect.

"Thanks," Scott muttered before he saw Allison, shivering. He was about to call out when he saw Isaac behind her, whispering small words of encouragement. Shaking off the hurt, Scott gave Deaton a look and a nod. "I'm ready if you are," Deaton gave everyone a signal and soon, Scott felt dizzy with his water being covered with ice water. After blacking out, Scott felt like he was floating, like his spirit was being separated from his body before he shot up from the tub, gasping for air.

"Godspeed, you'll need it—the longer you're there, the harder it is for all of you to get back." Deaton's voice faded away and soon there was nothing.

The first thing Scot had noticed was the bright florescent lights that covered the room he was in. Scott remembered Deaton's words just earlier, how they would be shrouded in darkness. It was kind of inaccurate seeing that he was being blinded by the annoyingly bright, white light the room had. He could have closed his eyes and slumped back into the tub for a few more minutes if it weren't for Stiles fishing him out of the tub, asking if he was alright.

"Yeah," Scott answered absentmindedly, his eyes trying to avoid the sight of Allison. Scott saw in the corner of his eyes was a tree stump and he knew what it was. The tug in his heart and in his stomach told him what the stump exactly was and he knew that he had to get to it. He wanted to run but there was something in the back of his mind that yelled at him, begged him not to forget. Scott drummed his fingers against his leg until he realized he had both free hands and that the watch was left inside the tub.

He walked back to the metal tub, water laying all around it, only to find the bronze and leather watch sitting at the bottom, with a sound coming from it. Fishing it out, Scott stared at the repaired watch. It looked like it was brand new, like it was made just yesterday. "I know, it's cool, right?" Stiles showed his father's badge, free of dents, unbent, and the colors didn't fade away. "Or is the magical object healing not impressive enough for your little, furry, werewolf ass?" Scott laughed before pushing himself to his feet.

"Definitely impressed." Scott smiled as he saw Allison, looking at her father's bullet. It was like it was just forged. "You okay?" Scott asked her, taking her hand to lead her to the Nemeton.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he could tell from her heart beat that she was lying but he could also tell that she didn't want to talk about it just yet. Scott knew that he didn't have any right to invade or to pry on the subject. Instead, he just enveloped her into his tight hug he used to give her when they weren't awkwardly trying to avoid each other, trying to look away when they caught each other staring.

"We'll find your Dad," Scott faced Stiles and started leading them towards the Nemeton, which seemed like an eternity away. "We will get our parents back, you know that," Scott promised when he stopped in his tracks, his feet frozen as he stood in front of the Nemeton. He felt its power surge through its aura. There was this significant amount of energy that repelled Scott, but the thought of his mother hurt weighed more. His priority was to find their parents.

The rings of the trunk oddly made Scott think of his tattoo. His finger slowly grazed his skin, staring at the black bands in wonder.

Reaching out, Scott placed a hand on the Nemeton's stump.

He closed in eyes, anticipating something bad to happen to him. He braced himself for pain or for this deafening loud ringing to sound but there was nothing. Scott sighed, ready to open his eyes and face defeat when he's heart something like a branch or a twig cracking under the pressure of a person's weight. Immediately, Scott's eyes flew open and he was no longer inside the bright room and was suddenly transported into Beacon Hills Preserve, his mouth hanging open as he watched his younger self tumble down a slope.

Scott inched forward, wanting to warn his younger self when suddenly, there was this sound of rustling. His younger self was paying no attention to the sound probably because he couldn't hear it. It made sense to him because this was the night he got bitten by Peter, and his younger self didn't have the super-werewolf hearing abilities. Yet. Finally, his younger self screamed in pain and Scott remembered how it felt having his skin tore apart when Peter bit him and made him a werewolf.

Scott didn't want to watch. It was like seeing a train crash in slow motion and he was trapped with no way to escape. He didn't want to see how his life was ruined by a single night's mistake. So, Scott took a step back, not bothering to turn around, when he suddenly felt the back of his foot hit something that radiated power. Slowly turning his head, Scott finally saw the Nemeton, smacked right in the middle of the preserve and seemingly invisible to his younger self.

Finally, Scott's eyes flew open, seeing the panting forms of his friends and wide-eyed. "I saw it. I know where it is," Stiles muttered under his breath, knowing too well that Scott could hear him no matter how low it was. "The night you got bitten, when we were searching for the body, in the preserve!" Scott nodded, staring in awe at the stump that seemed to reveal so much, just feeling the power the Nemeton radiated as he stood by its side. Stiles kept staring at the stump, too. "We just passed it. This huge stump, this huge tree—well, it's not huge anymore, it's cut down, but it's still big. Very, very big." Stiles had this look of disbelief.

Allison nodded, placing her hand on one of her hips. "Yeah, I saw it, too." Allison seemed to recount the events in her mind. "I was there, too, in the Preserve," there was this deep expression etched on Allison's face and Scott had to fight this urge to take her into his arms. He loved and hated that look. He loved that look on her face and yet he hated the power it had over him. "I was in the car with my mother. We almost hit someone, and I tried to help but it was too dark," Scott stared at Allison with wide eyes.

Scott placed a hand on his chest as they started making their way towards the metal tub. "It was me. You almost hit me." Allison had gasped, realizing all along how connected their lives are. "And now, we can find it. We can find our parents," Scott paused for a moment and stared at the watch inside his hand. Maybe after finding his Mom, he'd try and find the relationship he thought he'd lost with his father. Maybe, he can reconnect after this.

"Scotty, come on!" Scott's head turned towards Stiles, who was already way ahead of him and about to hop inside the tub. Inside Stiles' hand was his father's badge and his face held so much hope. "Come on, we have to find our parents," despite the hope that was shone so bright on his best friend's face, he saw the doubt. Stiles was scared, terrified even of the possibility that he could lose his father. Scott inched forward, ready to comfort him when he saw it.

Scott didn't know what 'it' exactly was because it was nothing more of a menacing shadow that lurked in the dark that seemed to lunge for Stiles. But Scott didn't care, it was still going after Stiles and he would readily give his life for his brother. "Stiles, what's that by your—" Scott didn't finish what he started, he cut himself off by yelling Stile's name, tackling his best friend to the side and feeling some thing pass through him. Something like a cold wind that seemed to suck the oxygen out of his lungs.

"Scott!" Allison—her voice made his heart ache knowing well that he lost her to Isaac—shouted as Scott battled the shadow that took a form of a man. The form was faceless, but Scott could make out from the dark figure that his face was covered in bandages, like a mummy with tattered clothes and a blood-stained shirt. Scott felt something beneath him crack and he hoped that maybe it was the tiles. "Look out!" managed to claw the figure, and despite his hand passing through the spirit, Scott drew blood and soon, the shadow retreated into the darkness that eventually faded back into the bright corner it once was.

Scott used his hand to stand up but he hissed when his hand was bleeding with a piece of white glass stuck and piercing his skin. "Shit!" he fished the shard out of his palm, taking a moment to look at the clear glass stained by red with his blood. Scott's blood dripped to the white floor, the white tiles suddenly marked by his blood when he realized something—the floor was unscathed by the fight and the tiles weren't anything like mirror. Scott threw a look over his shoulder and saw Stiles kneeling.

Scott didn't need to go near his best friend to know what was broken. "What's going on?" Allison asked, her voice filled with uncertainty and with fear, asking a question she knew well what the answer was. Suddenly, Allison rushed forward and took the watch from Stiles' hands despite being covered in little sharp shards of glass.

Allison was near hysterical, Scott could tell that much when he took her into his arms. "I'm sorry, I—I tried my best," Scott murmured against her hair, pressing small kisses on her forehead to calm her down because that always seemed to do the trick when she was upset. "You just. . .you have to go back now, Allison," Scott shot a look of urgency at Stiles. "Both of you, you need to go back now. It's not safe here." Allison squirmed away from his embrace, leaving Scott feeling the cold.

Scott wasn't going to make it out of this mess. At least, he had died saving their parents. Maybe he'd watch over them, guide them finish the problem with the Alpha Pack once and for all.

Allison looked like in denial, like she wasn't going to accept any of this. "No," she took the watch and slammed it inside of his hand. "Listen, you have got to try, Scott, because you're not just anyone—you're a true alpha, so I need you to try and fight," Scott sighed. Allison would be the hardest part of his life to let go but he needs to because there's no way. Scott opened his mouth to protest, to try and reason with her but Stiles had managed to beat him to it.

Allison tried to push him towards the tub but she stopped when Stiles finally yelled. "Don't you remember? It's dangerous to use a broken anchor, in fact it's dangerous to use a broken anything!" Stiles slumped back and there was a moment of silence between the three and all Scott could hear was the heavy pounding of his best friend's heart. "It's dangerous enough to use something broken back in our normal lives, I won't risk Scott using a broken anchor that could wipe him from existence!" Stiles threw his arms in the air before he finally cracked.

Stiles and Allison seemed to have entered a yelling match-off and all Scott could do was watch. "Well I am not leaving Scott behind!" Allison retorted, pointing an accusing finger at Stiles. "Because unlike you, I won't leave him when he needs someone most!" Scott cringed at the accusation. It was too much to say of Stiles, especially because it wasn't true. Stiles would never abandon him, not willingly.

"And what are you, the Buddha of sticking with people until the end?" Stiles spat, waving his arms frantically in the air to make some point and get it across. "You weren't the one who picked up the pieces when you shattered his heart into a gazillion pieces! I wasn't the one who shoved Isaac right into an open wound! I was not the one who turned on the people who counted on me the moment everything went sour!" Scott finally stepped forwards to try and break the fight off.

"My Mom died, that's a bit more than just everything going sour!" Allison defended.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one who blamed Scott for almost dying when your Mom decided to suffocate him with freakin' wolfsbane!" Scott stood in between the two, but there was no use, the two kept fighting.

"Well, I wasn't the one who dragged out my best friend to the middle of the woods only to ruin his life just because I couldn't handle being alone!" her tone was cruel but it was met with silence. Scott had enough of the fighting, but it was too late. The damage was done and Stiles was left silent. Allison realized her mistake when she stepped forward, her voice caught in her throat. She tried to reach for Stiles, but he stepped back, still in shock. "Stiles, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. . .I said that in the heat of the moment, but they—those words don't mean anything, you know that."

Stiles' head was hung low. "But that doesn't make it any less true," Scott decided, in that moment, to envelope Stiles in a tight embrace. "I don't want to leave you, Scott," he felt himself shed tears and slowly the truth began to make itself more noticeable. The truth hung heavy and the weight was starting to take its toll after Stiles tried to regain his composure. "Allison's right. We can't leave you behind, not until we're sure that you can come back," Allison came closer and nodded.

"We're a pack, Scott, and we can't lose our alpha, not you," Scott tried to convince himself that Allison was saying that as a member of his pack and not as a person who used to mean so much to her.

But it didn't make any difference because it was still as hard. Hearing her beg him, seeing her tears as she tried to convince him to try. It's a hopeless case, Scott could feel it in his bones that he would stay behind. "Someone has to hold you both under," Stiles' voice broke as he repeatedly shook his head and pursed his lips. "Listen, our parents need our help and time here, it's different back in our world so we have got to stop this, okay?" Scott walked towards the tubs.

Never in Scott's life did he ever thought that he'd die inside one.

Taking Stiles' hand, Scott grabbed the badge that sat on the floor and pressed it against his best friend's chest. "Save your father," Scott tried hiding his breaking voice but he couldn't, not when he saw his life flash by his eyes, the memories he has with Stiles knowing that he couldn't make more. This was the end for him and Stiles, so it seems, as Scott helped his best friend into the tub, seemingly filled to the brim with ice cold water. "Tell my Mom that I'm sorry," Stiles nodded before grabbing him into a tight embrace.

"I'll try and come back for you. I'll save you, Scott," Scott smiled at the thought of being brought back, but it was a possibility so remote that he couldn't bring himself to hope.

"I'm really glade you broke my sand castle," Stiles gave a teary laugh before burying his face into the crook of his neck. Tears and sobs were heard as Allison kept wiping her tears. Scott made a mental note to thank Allison for giving him a moment with Stiles, knowing well that this was the last time he'd see his best friend in this life.

But at the same time, Scott also dreads the moment he'd have alone with Allison. He wouldn't know how to handle his last time being alone with the woman he loves—his first and only love—knowing that once she goes back, she'll be happy with someone else. "Someone had to," Stiles said through tears and his sniffling. "Couldn't let some doofus without a degree in either engineering or architecture go around and design buildings. . .besides, it was a really crappy sand castle," Stiles muttered against Scott's shoulder.

Scott ignored his best friend's insults. He knew that it was some sort of defense mechanism. He was never one to say those feelings out loud. "Well," he played along, his fingers balling up into a knuckle to stop him from becoming a sobbing mess, "I'm glad I had a fellow fraud to help me create a new one," there was a teary chuckle and Stiles finally let go. Scott took a good look at his best friend, for one last time as he stood inside the metal tub.

Stiles sighed, his body relaxed and his tone resigned in defeat. "I hate being so powerless in saving you. Makes me feel like some sort of burden—" Scott cut Stiles off.

Scott shook his head. "Stop it, okay? You're not a burden and you're not powerless!" there was authority in Scott's voice that he never really knew held. "Listen, if the tables were turned and you were the one who I have to leave behind. . .I wouldn't be able to do that but you can because you're so powerful, Stiles, you're so strong that you can make this sacrifice!" Scott dusted Stiles' wet clothes and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "So stop feeling sorry for yourself because you shouldn't. You may have been Robin, but he's just as important as Batman." Scott took his best friend's hand into his and gave it a tight squeeze.

"So, what? Now I'm Batman?" Scott nodded.

"Someone needs to be Batman when I'm gone," Scott's jaw tightened. "Someone needs to be there for Isaac, for Deaton, for my Mom. . ." Scott took a moment to think of his Mom. How long will he be in this place before his heart comes to an abrupt stop? He hopes it won't be too long then, because if there's one thing Scott is utterly terrified of, it's the possibility of forgetting what his Mom looked like, or what her scent was, or how her voice rises when she sees the messy when he's still sleeping. "I need to be sure that everybody will be alright." Scott felt his voice break.

"I'll make sure they're alright," Stiles choked through his sobs as he lowered himself into the tub, Scott seeing the water soak his clothes again. "That's my job, right? The pack's very own overgrown puppy-sitter."

Scott took a moment to calm himself and steady his breathing. He needs to be someone who can bring Stiles back into their world, to their dimension, and he's no good if he couldn't stop his feelings from controlling him. Scott wouldn't risk his best friend's life. "Then I need you to promise me, Stiles, that everyone, including you, will be alright," Scott noticed the change in Stiles' heartbeat and in seconds' time, his best friend began shaking his head.

"Why'd you have to be so selfless, Scott?" Stiles asked as he slowly lowered himself, water reaching his face.

Scott sighed. "Stiles," his voice had this edge. He needed to make sure that the people he loves will be alright after he dies.

Stiles tossed his arms in the air, sending droplets of water to go flying everywhere. "You can't ask me to keep everyone safe knowing that the person I want to keep safe the most is stuck in this place, dying, and you're just gone then!" Stiles broke, wiping his tears every now and then even though more would streak his face. "You can't just leave me when you're the one person I count on being around, Scott! You're my brother, and you can't leave and you can't ask that of me!" Stiles yelled and Scott could hear both of their hearts break into a million, tiny pieces.

Scott's known Stiles for so long that he couldn't really imagine much of his life before him. All he could honestly remember was the proud look on his face, finishing a sand castle without his father's help when a boy with uncoordinated locomotive suddenly smashed into his sandcastle, sighing in relief because Scott only found out later that Stiles had turning the whole beach upside down for a restroom and the closest alternative he could think of was crashing into a sand castle and pissing himself.

Stiles was there for him when his father took off, not a single word, not even a goodbye. Scott remembered crying so hard, asking if he was someone even worth loving—because dads walking out on kids works wonders for someone's self-esteem!—but Stiles was there, always with a bucket of Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream.

In turn, Scott was there when Stiles' Mom died. He was there when the Sheriff arrived, he was with Stiles when machines started beeping off like crazy. He was with his best friend when they were being ushered out of the room, no one answering Stiles' questions about his Mom. They were both told lies, that Aunt Claudia was going to be fine, but Scott knew. The both of them did and the only thing he could do was buy him a cup of frozen yogurt from the hospital canteen when he knew that Stiles' sanity was hanging on a piece of thread much like how his head was barely cupped inside his hands.

Scott calmed himself down slowly took deep breaths. "You know that I won't forgive your little werewolf ass for this, right?" Scott nodded as he took his place behind Stiles, placing his hands on his best friend's shoulder, hearing his heart beat and the little warmth he could offer knowing that this was their last moment. Scott and Stiles against the world would be no more as the dynamic duo will be a spectacular solo.

Scott gulped, feeling the guilt of having to leave his best friend in the world both with the responsibility of keeping the pack together—at least as safe as they could be—while leaving him to deal with the fact that almost everyone he loves is leaving behind.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Stiles, for doing this but I will never be too far. I will always with you, by your side." Stiles' gave a shaky breath of air as a type of acknowledgement.

Scott sighed he saw the back of Stiles' head move, hearing the steady heartbeat to let him know that it's time. "I know, Scott," before the three words can continuously break Scott's resolve, he pushed Stiles down into the water and focused on his heartbeat for one last time. It still rang clear in his ears, despite the violently loud thrashing Stiles is doing while inside the tub, but it inevitably faded out into silence.

Scott felt pain in his palm. He hissed when he saw the wound, realizing that his nails had been digging into his hand for so long. But it's okay, Scott reassured himself, because just when he stopped hearing Stiles' heart beating, he heard it go steady before going on to do a gymnast's routine. Lydia Martin, the thought popped into Scott's mind because he knew that there was only one person who could make Stiles' heart beat like his overactive and spastic self.

It was Lydia Martin who Stiles first saw. He's back, and now Scott will never see his best friend again.

Once Scott was sure Stiles' no longer needed his tether to the other side, Scott broke down to the floor and cried as hard as he can. His lungs were filled with this unusual pain that made his heart ache with every breath he took. Stiles may have lost his best friend today, but Scott lost his whole life in an effort to save the people he loves.

Suddenly, Allison's heartbeat resurfaced after all those noise. He could hear the shifting of her feet, how she would ball her fingers into a fist and press it against her lips to prevent a sob from escaping them. Scott could hear it from a mile, actually. He could hear her silent whimpers that she so desperately tried to hide; the sniffling noise her nose gave off that would have been cute if it had been caused by her allergies and not by losing a friend; and lastly, the sound that her clothes would make whenever she wiped a tears from her eyes.

Scott wanted to thank her. His mouth hung ajar but his words were stuck in his throat, feeling incapable of saying anything to her.

Scott turned to face her. "We have to get you back now, Allison," there was nothing from her. Not a single sound, not a change in her pulse, nothing that would have told Scott that she wanted something and not the other. It pained Scott, how they drifted apart, how the distance between them grew, how they became so estranged with one another that they're no better than strangers with an awkward past like a one-night stand.

But she shook her head. "No, I'm not leaving you," Scott's heart ached. How could he let go when she refused to. "Deaton can find a way now that Stiles is out there and you might need someone else to help you," Allison listed off, her tone flat and unchanging despite the obvious tell-tale signs in her voice that told Scott that she had been crying while he was trying to get Stiles back into their world.

"This isn't up for discussion, Allison, you have to leave," Deaton's name brought memories to Scott. While his boss is a remarkable man, the one thought that stood out the most was that the longer they stay in this realm, the harder it was to get them out and Scott couldn't risk Argent having to bury both wife and daughter in such a short time. "We have to get you back and I need you to get in this tub."

Scott remembered one of their dates once. How he's comment that the whole 'Romeo & Juliet: Star-crossed lovers' romance thing was getting tiring and it wasn't easy for Scott because there was always the threat of death. He remembered that she just laughed at his complaint, that she leaned in to him before he held her tight in his arms. Scott remembered looking at the stars of the dark sky of Beacon Hills with her—Allison is the most radiant star to be found, if anyone asked Scott—before she gave him this look.

Scott hated that look, and yet he loved it. He hated the effect it had on him and loved it on her face.

She wriggled away from his arms, much to his discontent. But soon, she maneuvered her arms and placed her hands on his neck. Scott could feel her breathing against his face and her heartbeat was pretty much on top of his. "I am never, ever going to make it easy for you. Get used to it." He remembered the kiss afterwards. Scott could also remember his brain turning into mush and that he would have stayed in that moment forever if it weren't for the gasping sound Stiles made when Allison's parents were almost home (He had Danny make a small tracking device and placed it on Argent's SUV).

Allison Argent never made things easy for him. In fact, she made things a hell of a lot more complicated than it should have been and while he would have been better off if he never did bother her, he wouldn't change a thing. Scott would make the same choices over and over again if it lead him to her, if it gave him a moment's time of a day because she's worth it to him. Allison is worth so much more, she deserves so much more, but he's selfish enough to feel her in his arms.

Scott crossed his arms, challenging Allison, ready to reason with her. "One good reason," at first she was confused, but she caught on fast. Soon, her hands moved from her waist and crossed her torso with a defiant look on her face. "Three tries to give me one good reason on why you should stay and I'll let you stay without question but I need you to give me a reason first." There was tension in the atmosphere and the silence seemed to hard to break.

Allison's expression never did change. "I've told you, Deaton might find some way and you might need someone to—" Scott shook his head.

"Not good enough."

Allison's expression hardened and her resolve got even stronger. Scott could hear her pulse racing. "The Bestiary, it mentioned some kind of trigger from the inside and not from the other and it requires two—" Scott spoke up again, his jaws grinding as he grew tired of the tirade, of the lie she tried to come up with.

"Not good enough."

Scott could tell that Allison was damn near her breaking point. "My. . .the bullet got scratched and—" Scott finally lost his cool when Allison's pulse jumped for the second time.

She resorted to lying again.

Scott felt so much pain and hurt when Allison lied right to his face again. He knew that she needed space, that she needed to get that image of betrayal and of darkness out of her head. Scott knew that they weren't working out in the end but Allison meant so much to him and he's never lie to her. He'd expect the same from her but all he got was a stupid lie.

A random thought crossed Scott's mind. Were they too estranged now? That they're no better than strangers with an awkward past? Is the distance between them far too great that they can't even be friends who wouldn't lie to each other's face?

Apparently not.

"Bullshit, Allison!" Scott yelled, his mind blinded by rage that she could manage to both break his heart and lie to him as if their past was nothing. "I've given you three tries and I've held up my end of the bargain, Allison, now it's time to hold up yours." There was a tiny voice inside Scott's head that said she did hold up her end of the bargain. Allison promised that she'd never make it easy for him, Scott finally experienced the rock and hard place.

Scott pointed to the tub before he closed the distance between them, grabbing her arm to drag her into the tub himself. Scott needed to send her off before he would break, and he's not so sure if he can make it for so long. "Stop it! I'm not leaving!" Allison protested, but he kept pulling hard enough to manage to bring the both of them in front of a tub that would send her back to their world, a tub that would ultimately leave Scott alone to himself before he dies.

"The hell you're not!" Scott looked Allison in the eye before flashing her his eyes. "You're going back there, you're going to save our parents and you're going to live your life like every other teenager there is. You're going to college, you're going to marry some guy your father will probably threaten repeatedly on dinners, you're going to have a white picket fence and everything! You, Stiles, and Lydia, you're going to stop with all this supernatural shit and you're going to live like pretentious Californian residents and you're going to live it for those who can't." Scott finally stopped, the tears finally making a reappearance.

Allison had this effect on people, on him especially. His best laid out plans would come tumbling down to her.

"You have so much potential, Allison, and I will not drag you down," Scott always realized that, even if he weren't a werewolf, the Argents would never truly welcome him. He's too squeamish to pull a trigger and take a life. He never would have been her family's first choice and without the bite, Allison would have never even noticed him. "So unless you can come up with a good reason, then get the fuck inside that tub and—" he was cut off with a yell, a sob almost.

"Fine! You want to hear me say it? It's because I love you!" Scott fell frozen in his tracks, the words lost in his throat as he stared at his ex-girlfriend in front of him. "I like Isaac, but I will always love you and I will always come back to you and I refuse to go back to some world where I won't have you in it." A part of Scott wanted to take her into his arms and just stop caring for the world because the woman he loves still loves him back.

But this wasn't the case. There were far too many to consider, far too much lives to save.

"You already lost me, Allison," Scott remembered a show, how a line struct with his mind for so long that it refused to let go. He shouldn't hold it against Allison for needing space. "We needed time and space to heal and maybe we needed that because we knew to ourselves that we aren't going to work out in the end." Scott felt his heart hammer against his chest, painfully reopening some old wounds he thought has long healed.

"And we took a break! I went away and I started seeing other people because I needed to get that image—what I suddenly realized what I was capable of—out of my mind before I could even consider being with you!" Allison grabbed Scott's arm and gave this look that almost broke his heart. The pleading look that reminded him of the rave when they fought. He remembered how badly she wanted to make up for the mistake she's made and he just ignored her. Maybe that was his mistake.

"And that's what I call a smart move, Allison, because we needed to see things a whole lot more clearly than we did before." Allison had this incredulous look on her face that made Scott's resolve grow weaker by the minute. It really was so hard not to kiss her.

"Is this your way of saying you need more time and space? More than the 3 months and some 7 thousand kilometers that we had last summer? Do you need that much space that you'd have to kill yourself and have your mother bury the body of her only son?" Allison played the guilt card and the thought of his mother floated in Scott's mind before he reminded himself that this is for her. What he's doing is for his Mom and for the people around me.

"I thought you were over this," Scott muttered to Allison, pointing out to their relationship, that they were focusing on becoming friends despite being involved together once. Scott was tempted to point out that she was going to move on with Isaac when she suddenly had this outburst.

"Hell, I'm not!" Allison yelled before taking a fist full of Scott's shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. Scott remembered the last time he's kissed her. They broke up then. He remembered how hard it was for him to stop thinking of her in that way only to find out that he's never stopped thinking of her that way. Scott felt his heartbeat steady itself as Allison broke away from the kiss. "I am not over us," she whispered, her breathing ragged, before weaving her fingers into Scott's hair.

A part of Scott had snapped and he finally stopped. "I'm not over us, too," he felt compelled to say it and he just stopped fighting the urge. Scott needed to say it out loud, too, now that he's heard it from Allison but there's a tiny voice inside him that made him stop. So, when Scott broke from the embrace, Allison gave him a weird look as his heart pumped against his chest, giving him this heavy feeling as he tried to block out the noise of a resting heart beat of a happy woman to a heart beat of someone so lost and confused.

Soon, it's about to become the heart beat of a woman so heartbroken.

"Scott?" she held on to him, as if every touch would give him something to reconsider, and while it did, Scott gave her a sad smile and gently pushed her towards the tub.

Scott dug one of his nails into his palm, relishing the pain it felt compared to the more soul-breaking pain he'll feel. "You have to go, Allison," there was, unsurprisingly, a look of disbelief that showed itself on Allison's face. The happy and relieved expression morphed into one of pain killed Scott knowing that he brought her the hurt she should have never felt. "Time's running out and you need to go now," Allison stepped away, two fingers pressed against her lips to stop this angry outburst Scott knew he deserved.

"Why are you doing this?" she hissed as he felt her heart breaking inside his palm.

"Because it's the right thing, you know it, I know it. You have to go back." Scott answered sadly, taking a moment to take her into his arms. Allison fought her way out but he held her tightly in his arms and refused to let her go. "I love you, you need to know that," a broken sob escaped her lips and Scott flinched at the sound. "I'm sorry that I have to do this, I have to let you go because you have no future with me," Allison tried to protest but he cut her off, whispering hushed words of encouragement and of apologies. "I can't let you throw your life away, especially when it means you have to die, too," Scott closed his eyes and remembered for a minute what it's like if he would let her stay.

He would be so happy, having the person he loves with him. But he couldn't rob the world of Allison Argent. He won't be selfish again.

"Why does this have to end like this?!" she yelled in her arms, still writhing in pain. "You know how I felt about you jumping into things like these! You know that I would have wanted you out of these things!" she finally stopped, dropped to the floor as her knees gave. "I told you once, that I didn't like you being in the cross hairs because you would be the victim, and that because you would end up dying. . ." she trailed off as he could hear her sobs coming to an abrupt stop as if to think or remember something.

"Allison—" Scott didn't even get to defend himself when she looked up to him with broken, bloodshot eyes.

Scott could feel the throbbing of her sore throat. He knew how hard it was for her to speak, how hard it was for her to cope. "I've lost my mother, Scott, because of some stupid code that's apparently a whole lot more important than her daughter." Allison gave out a humorless laugh that sounded so wrong to Scott. He cringed at the look of hurt written on her face came to surface as if she was reminiscing the moments when she found out about her mother.

Scott knelt down and took Allison in his arms.

"I have been asking myself, Scott, every single night, why I'm suddenly not enough!" Scott cringed at her words, knowing well where the conversation is heading. "Christ, Scott! Do you know how much it hurts? Having been told that your love isn't enough? That you're not enough?" Scott nodded and pressed a kiss on her temple, rubbing soothing circular patterns on her arm.

"I know," Allison fell silent and remembered the night they broke up. There was a skip in her heart beat that told Scott she knew a lot more than that. His Mom probably told her, probably something about his abandonment issues about his father. "I know what it's like to feel like you're not enough but trust me when I say that you're enough, Allison. You are enough."

Allison breathed in, knowing well to herself that she wasn't going to get anything she wanted to happen. There was silence and tension in the room that gave Scott this eerie feeling in his chest. "You do know that I'm going to hate you, for the rest of my life, for this?" Scott nodded before lifting her up to her feet and helping her into the tub. He tried to get behind her, to hold her down from the shoulder when her grip on his arm remained steady.

Allison Argent hates me. The thought replayed itself in his mind over and over again.

Scott felt like he was punched in the gut, square in the stomach when she said that. He could handle her breaking up with him, he could handle her changing sides, he could even handle her crossing lines, but of all things he couldn't see himself coping with was the thought of Allison hating her and regretting what they had. "I know, and I'm sorry." She flinched, the change in her heartbeat didn't go unnoticed. Scott's smarts finally caught on—she didn't want an apology to be the last thing he'd say to her, she wouldn't want that to be the last memory she has of him.

Scott's facial expression had softened and his voice was soft and gentle. "Allison?" the least he could do was give her a memory of him that wasn't all depressed and gloomy. Not all brooding and hurt.

"Hold me. I want to remember what it feels like to be in your arms." It was a defeated tone that Scott never wanted to hear from her. But he did, so he stood by the tub's side. Scott stepped into the tub and laid down with Allison still in his arms, the water framing her face.

There was a silence between them. Scott didn't like it for one bit.

Scott still rubbed circular patterns on her arm. "Allison, I need to know if you love me more than you'll hate what I'm going to do," there was no reply from Allison. Only a silent sob and her heart beat told Scott that she was still awake and listening.

Allison refused to answer so Scott felt like it was really wrong to hold her down.

"Move on, okay?" there was no answer from Allison, only a strangled sob that was followed by rushed breathing.

Defeated, Scott placed one final kiss on Allison's hand before submerging it back into the water. There was a small amount of time and a deafening silence that said everything that was meant to be said. Before long, Allison took a deep breath of air and Scott finally held her down, feeling her thrashing up close and hearing her heart beat slowly fade away into the other side, leaving him alone in whatever the place was.

Scott didn't move from his spot. He continued to stay in Allison's tub for what seemed like days and months when it all was just a total of 2 hours, trying to remember his best friend and—ex?—girlfriend's scent before it finally faded away. Deaton's voice suddenly rang in his mind, telling him that it was hard for him to be brought back after spending so much time.

Scott gave up hope and began to close his eyes when the once bright room's lights one by one began to turn itself off. Scott gulped at the sign, seeing the darkness slowly closing in on him. Scott felt the temperature drop so suddenly when he realized that he's not alone in the room anymore.

The shadows that lurked around the room began closing in on him at a record speed. He could feel their aura—all the hate and the negativity, the evil that hung in the air. Scott gulped, realized that he's dying and now he won't be around for anyone to get.