I have never had any desire to write for Teen Wolf, but unlike my formerly favorite show Vampire Dairies, Teen Wolf keeps getting more compelling. This was literally in my head as I slept or I dreamt it. It explores Season 3x19 episode "Riddled" which was last night's. If you haven't watched it, you may not want to wait to read this. Spoiler alert!

I don't own Teen Wolf or its characters!

No Other Option

When Scott got Stiles' frantic call in the middle of the night, he wasn't sure at first if it was a prank or not. Having been Stiles' best friend all his life, he had witnessed many a mood and mood swing from his ADHD rattled friend. Stiles could get worked up with the best of them. However, even when Stiles first realized that Scott was a werewolf before Scott did, he'd never heard this level of fear and panic from Stiles. Stiles was terrified, and his fear reached out and grabbed Scott like nothing in his life ever had.

"I think I've been sleepwalking…I don't know where I am," Stiles confessed. Then he hung up. Worried, Scott called him back and kept getting his voicemail. Finally, he got him on the line again.

"Stiles?"

"I don't think I can get out of here," Stiles told him. "I can't move."

"Where are you?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. It's too dark. I can't see much. But something's wrong with my leg. I can't move it."

"How bad is it?" Scott asked worriedly. There was no answer. "Stiles!"

"There's some kind of smell down here. Something smells terrible. It's brutal. My eyes are watering," he said, his voice breaking.

Scott had never heard him so scared before. Stiles hadn't been this terrified when faced with his first werewolf. Not even when Scott lost control and tried to kill him. Derek Hale had scared Stiles, but he hadn't ever shown this level of terror before. His fear was building Scott's own.

"I'm going to call your dad," Scott said. Stiles' dad was the Sheriff, and he was the only adult Scott trusted nearly as much as his own mother. When he'd found out about Scott and all the werewolves in his town, he'd not blinked. Instead, he'd been relieved. It had explained so much that hadn't made sense to Stiles' dad. A good cop, he'd known that something weird had been going on in Beacon Hills for the past two years.

"No! No! No, don't!" Stiles insisted, an edge of panic in his voice. His insistence surprised Scott. Stiles was much closer to his dad than Scott had ever been to his own. The two had a bond most father-sons didn't. One Scott had always been a little envious of.

"But your dad?" Scott didn't feel right keeping this from his dad. The man was too good to both Scott and his mother.

"Please, don't call him! He already worries too much about me," Stiles said.

"But what if I can't find you?" Scott pointed out. "I can't make a promise like that!"

"Please, don't call him. You come find me. He doesn't have to know!" Stiles begged in a way he'd never had before. Tears in his voice, he continued, "You can find me, Scott."

"I don't know if I can," Scott said doubtfully. Scott and Stiles did everything together. Never before had Scott been forced to do something so important or serious without his best friend. Stiles was the brains. It had always been that way. Stiles, though, always believed in Scott even when he didn't believe in himself. Even now when Stiles was incoherent with fear, he had faith in Scott's abilities.

"I'm going to have to call you back," Stiles said, disconnecting before Scott could say anything. He wanted to scream in frustration.

Trying to get dressed while attempting to keep Stiles on the phone, he called out for Isaac, his friend and pack brother. Although Isaac wasn't particularly close to Stiles, he was devoted to his Alpha—to Scott. Isaac hurried into the room.

"It's Stiles. Get dressed!" he called out when Isaac came into his bedroom.

"What's wrong with Stiles?" Isaac asked.

Scott didn't know how to answer that. "I don't know," he admitted.

Without hesitation, Isaac was there for him. That was the thing about the group of friends he'd garnered since becoming a werewolf. They never hesitated to help when one of them was in need. Scott was incredibly grateful. What he didn't seem to realize was that he inspired instant trust and devotion in everyone he met. Even the jaded and cynical Derek Hale had sensed right away that there was something different about Scott. He'd wanted badly for Scott to be a member of his pack. However, Stiles' lack of trust in Derek had made Scott wary. Trusting Stiles' instinct, he had never quite let himself join Derek's pack. Now that Derek was no longer Alpha and Scott was a true Alpha, Derek had readily given Scott his loyalty.

Isaac sent out messages to Derek and Allison to begin searching for Stiles. It was a bitterly cold night for Beacon Hills, California. Scott had deciphered from Stiles' terrified ramblings that Stiles was both cold and injured somehow. Hypothermia was a real concern.

"Stiles, why are you whispering?" Scott asked him when he talked to him again a short time later.

"Because I think there's someone here with me," Stiles whispered.

Terror filled Scott. The urgency to find him, to get to him before someone hurt him grew even stronger. Scott was a protector by nature. All their lives, Stiles got them into trouble, tried to talk them out of it, mostly failed, and Scott kept any would-be bullies from picking on his friend, who never knew when to quit talking. Their roles had been assigned long ago. Scott was the protector. It was his job to watch out for Stiles, to remind him to take his meds, to listen to him ramble when no one else would. It's what a best friend did. Stiles never knew when to quit. Now, when he needed him, Scott wouldn't quit either. Not until he was found.

They went to his house and found Lydia and one of the twins already there.

"How did you know to come here?" Scott asked when he saw Lydia and Aiden in Stiles' room.

"I heard it," Lydia confessed.

"Don't ask!" Aiden warned. "It just gets more confusing." He gave Lydia a fond, bewildered look.

Lydia heard things others didn't. At first, they had thought she was crazy. Then they thought she might be a psychic. They'd finally discovered she was a banshee, but no one—not even her—really knew what that meant. Scott looked at her hopefully. Maybe she could find Stiles.

Looking at Stiles' room, however, he winced. The murder-conspiracy board that took up all the wall space wasn't a good sign of Stiles' mental well-being. There was red string covering the space around his bed, anchored to it by a pair of scissors. He didn't appreciate Aiden's look of judgment at the chaos that was Stiles' room. However, he knew that Stiles hadn't been himself lately. He and Allison had also been haunted by waking dreams and hallucinations since the three of them had died and come back to life in order to save their parents.

With Stiles, though, things had been different this week. Stiles hadn't been sleeping and had been thinking some wild things about himself. Scott's own mother had to sedate him the other day just to force him to sleep. Scott could tell his mother was very worried about Stiles, too. Since Stiles' own mother had died when he was a kid, Scott's mom had taken on the mother role for him. Scott knew that since he loved Stiles like a brother, his mom loved him like another son. His mom was cool that way. She'd open their own to the homeless Isaac without hesitation. It was not unusual for her to keep her eye and hand on seeing to Stiles' well-being.

Lydia berated Scott for not calling Stiles' dad. When Scott confessed that he had promised Stiles he wouldn't call, Lydia reminded him that she had not. She convinced Scott he was being foolish, so he turned to go to the Sheriff's station and report Stiles missing.

"I'll catch up," Lydia said, grabbing Aiden's hand, so he wouldn't follow. "There's something here."

Isaac looked around the room with the red yarn strung out all over the place. "Yeah, evidence of total insanity," he observed.

Scott didn't like to hear anyone talk about his best friend that way. However, he had to admit the room looked crazy even for Stiles. "We can figure out what's wrong with him after we figure out a way to keep him from freezing to death," Scott said firmly. Finding Stiles was the first priority. Everything else would work itself out. He had to believe that.

Their search led him to the hospital where Stiles' jeep was found abandoned, its battery dead. Isaac had went to get Allison, and Derek had joined Scott searching the hospital. They had ended up on the roof.

Derek said to him, "Notice how strong the scent is up here? Ever hear of chemo signals?"

Derek had been born a werewolf and was from a long line of werewolves. Allison's aunt, a deranged werewolf hunter and Derek's ex-girlfriend, had slaughtered his entire family. He knew so much more about being a werewolf than Scott. The past year had shown Scott that Derek was a true friend; one he could trust and depend on. He was very glad Derek was back in town. He had no one else to teach him how to be an alpha.

"Chemical signals that communicate emotion. Just our sweat can give off fear, anger, or disgust. Take a deep breath and tell me what you feel," Derek told him.

Scott did that and was surprised when he did sense something. "Stress," he said.

"Anxiety," Derek added. "There was definitely some kind of struggle."

"With who?" Scott wondered.

Derek gave him a knowing look. "Himself."

Scott was more worried about Stiles than ever.

Lydia led them to the town's mental institution, convinced Stiles was down in their basement. However, she was wrong. The disappointment warred with the fear in both Scott and Sheriff Stilinski.

Fortunately, Scott's parents found Stiles. His annoying-barely-a-father-FBI Agent-trying-to-run-Sheriff Stilinski-out-of-office-father actually did something useful for once. He believed Stiles was sleep walking. He was right. He and Scott's mom found Stiles.

It was all a dream. The terror that had been so real it ignited Scott's own terror had been found to have been nothing more than an extreme case of sleep walking.

They took him to the hospital to be checked out. Stiles didn't remember much. It was like a dream for him, but he was okay.

Scott wasn't so sure about that. Lydia was still hearing things—it didn't matter if she denied it. He knew she was lying.

Scott tried to go to school the next day without Stiles. But nothing felt right. His concern for his best friend made everything else fade away.

After school, Scott rushed to the hospital. They were going to do some tests on Stiles; he wanted to be there for him. He needed to be. He knew what his mom was thinking. Stiles' mom had died too young. Her mental dementia had crippled her until finally she was a shell of who she had been. Then she was gone.

An MRI was set up for Stiles. Scott was there with him. His mom and Stiles' dad listened with him as the doctor explained the procedure. They gave Scott a moment alone with Stiles.

"You know what they're looking for, right?" Stiles asked, more serious than Scott had ever seen him.

Scott did, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Hospitals. Machines. Sickness. That was too real. Too mortal. Scott had lived the past year in a storybook where he fought monsters and demon-like creatures. Battles to the death were normal for him. His best friend being sick didn't fit. The possibility of losing his best friend to something that Scott couldn't fight was incomprehensible to him. Unable to look at Stiles, he gave a slight nod.

"It's called frontal temporal dementia," Stiles said as Scott finally turned his head to look at him. "Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And there's no cure."

Scott turned away slightly as Stiles spoke. His words made it all too real. "Stiles if you have it, we'll do something," he said. He finally looked at his best friend. "I'll do something." He said the words like a promise. There was no way he would let his best friend, his brother die. No way. They both knew what could stop him from dying. The same thing that had cured Erica's epilepsy. It had cured Scott of his asthma.

Stiles didn't say anything. He just looked at Scott, acceptance in his eyes for what Scott was offering. He reached out and pulled Scott close for a tight hug. Scott wrapped his arms around his friend, needing to give and receive comfort. Scott wasn't sure if it was because he was raised by a single mom, but he was always comfortable with showing emotion and letting people know he cared. He and Stiles had been through too much for it to end now. He owed Stiles too much.

Scott would never forget at the beginning of the school year when the track team had stopped at the Bates Motel of Horror. The wolves had all been affected by whatever dark presence lurked in the creepy place Coach had selected for them to stay at. Scott had been driven to the brink of suicide, convinced by some unseen presence that his life had only caused everyone nothing but suffering. That everyone would be better off if he'd died. It had seemed perfectly acceptable for him to douse himself in gasoline.

Stiles had found him just when he was about to light the match and set himself on fire. It had been Stiles who had talked him down. He had stepped into the gasoline puddle, telling Scott that if he was going to die, he would have to take Stiles with him.

Stiles had refused to let Scott die.

Stiles had chosen in that moment to die with Scott rather than to watch him die.

No one besides his mother loved him the way Stiles did.

Scott could do no less for him.

Somehow, someway, Scott would find a way to save Stiles from himself.

There was no other option.

*****The End*****

Thanks for reading! As much as I like Scott, Stiles is the one that I find the most interesting. However, Scott's unwavering loyalty to Stiles and the patient way he deals with Stiles' neurosis is endearing to watch. This episode was not only terrifying at times, but it was so utterly moving that I just had to write something. I hope you liked this. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Before you waste time trying to correct the name of the hotel, I know it was NOT called Bates Motel. Bates Motel is an allusion to the American Horror movie (Psycho, I think) that is set in the Bates Motel. I used that name to imply that place was as bad as a horror movie! One person already sent a review trying to correct me!