Rafael McCall had many things that kept him up at night. Cases that were never solved, the faces of victims that begged him to find their killers, the glaring eyes of his superiors whenever they thought he wasn't living up to their expectations...

It used to drive him to drink — just one glass before bed so he could sleep through the night, then two, then three...until eventually, he just left the bottle by the bed.

He hadn't touched a bottle since the day he almost lost everything.

Then he ran, and he lost what he had left.

He stared at the sobriety coin in his hand. Ten years sober. He wanted to throw it in the trash, and drink till he couldn't even remember his name anymore.

Scott was pissed off with him, and he had every right to be. But even he didn't understand the full story, and no matter how much Rafe had wanted to tell him all of it, he couldn't bring himself to do so. If he did, then he'd lose what little chance of regaining his son that he had left.

He sat down on a chair in the circle. It was just a small meeting of strangers. The motto of AA was plastered on posters covering up the cracks in the walls.

"My name is Rafael, and I'm an alcoholic."

He tried not to stare down the circle as they greeted him back.

"I want a drink. I want to open a bottle, and I can't think of reasons why I shouldn't."

A few understanding looks, a woman who looked away from him. The guy next to him, clearly wanting to pat him on the shoulder, telling him that everything would be fine. But thankfully he didn't.

"How could I tell you? You wouldn't have believed me." Scott glared at him, out of those glowing red eyes that had taken his son's brown eyes' place. The lack of eyebrows, the nose that was almost a snout, fangs, pointy ears, that face that looked inhuman, fingers ending in claws, monstrous, almost like an animal. The shiver underneath the calm in his voice. Rafael had tried to stay calm, to keep seeing his son in this alien face. But the way all that faded away when Scott shifted back to his human face, made it almost worse, because he KNEW it was still there."

"How did it happen?" He tried to push himself in a professional mindset. Tried to imagine he was talking to a witness, a hostile one at that, instead of his son. Instead of something, someone inhuman. Don't run, they can smell your fear, he remembered something his father had once told him. It didn't work any better now.

"I was attacked."

"I just found out that last year, my son was attacked in the woods." Woods he should never have been in. "A … Monster attacked him, violated him-" Bit him. "-And he didn't even tell his mother what happened until months later. He didn't tell me until last night."

Scott turned away from him, he was shivering, shaking almost. He tried to get started repeatedly, as if he were searching for words that just weren't there. So much like that time he had broken a trophy that Rafael had received on a particular gruesome case. Scott had been so scared then too, scared of how his father would react. Rafael tried to let him continue, but it was clear that his son had a hard time talking about this.

"Where?" Cling to the details, cling to the past, let it come up, bit by bit, dig in till you have the answers, and maybe both of them could get through this.

"At the preserve." Scott seemed almost small as he sat down, the power slipping out of him, again, leaving just his son. "We were in the woods. It was late. We knew we shouldn't be there, but we wanted…." He remembered the time he questioned how Melissa had let Scott roam the woods at night, the idea that that hadn't been the first time sent shivers down his spine.

"Who's 'we'?" The answer was obvious, but it still had to be asked. Sometimes details came bit by bit, one leading to the other.

"Me and Stiles." Stiles, of course it had to be Stilinski. "We were stupid. It was supposed to be nothing." Scott seemed even smaller, his shoulders shaking just that slightest bit. "Stiles wanted to go look for a body, to do something exciting. We'd been saying how bored we were, and he wanted, we wanted something, anything, to happen."

Just kids being kids, without a clue of the risk they put themselves into. In a way that almost made it worse. Was that the last time his son had been truly innocent? He didn't know.

"My son was attacked, and I wasn't there." He felt the pressure of the coin pushing into his skin as he closed his fists. "Because I ran. Because I was so busy blaming myself, seeing myself as the monster, that I wasn't part of his life. And some asshole ruined my son's life, scarred him for life, and Scott didn't think telling me would make any difference."

Because he was just another burden on his son's life. One of far too many on his son's back. He laid his hands on his lap, trying to keep from getting up and running, as he'd done before.

"I wish we'd never gone out that night. I've wished, so many times, that I could take it all back and say no. But I didn't. And we went out, into the woods."
Scott's voice broke on the last word.
"Stiles' Dad caught us, but I stayed hidden, behind a tree. The sheriff called out for me. He knew that Stiles and I came as a set. I could have just come out, and that would have been it. But I didn't, and since I didn't, Stiles' Dad made him go home on his own." Rafael had to force himself not to pull his son into a hug. His son, not a monster, his son, his little boy, who needed comfort, but who needed to tell his story even more. With the way it slipped out, Rafe wondered if anyone had ever bothered to ask him for it.

"It was cold, and I was wearing nothing but a hoodie. I thought, I thought if I kept walking, Stiles would wait for me, as soon as he got away from his Dad." Rafe recognized the tactic, Scott was stalling, looking for ways not to get to the main point. But if he butted in now, Scott might freeze entirely. So Rafael just sat there, waiting for more. His hands on his knees, fighting the urge to look away. He needed to be patient, to be understanding, to be there.

"You couldn't have…" someone tried to interrupt him, but Rafael glared him down.

"When I was drinking, I was a horrible father. I was a mean drunk. Melissa, my ex-wife would protect Scott from me as good as she could. But… he must have heard some of it. He must have heard her crying, must have seen some of it, at an age that no child should see their Mom scared like that. No child should have to see their Dad lay his hands on their Mom."

Rafael tried to stare at the coin, at his hands, at his guilt.

"And then I almost killed him, and she finally found the strength to kick me out the door."

People waited for him to continue, the clock on the wall kept ticking, it took him a bit before he could, trying not to remember the splash of blood, wanting to run down the stairs, seeing Melissa do so instead, the look in her eyes.

"He just wanted to go walk the dog. It was morning, and our dog Roxy had been doing her bathroom dash up and down the stairs for an hour already. Scott had grabbed the dog's leash and put it on her, to keep her calm. And it annoyed me. I can't even remember why I was so angry in the first place. I want to think it was an accident, that I was just lashing out at the damn dog for barking when I was dealing with a headache, that there was some reason. But all I can remember is seeing Scott and the dog go down the stairs. He was so little. I remember every second of that moment. The blood. I just don't remember the moment before it.

All I remember is Scott on the floor, already coming to. He was looking up at me, but not really seeing me, the dog. Then Melissa screamed at me to go, to get out. And I ran, and I kept on running."

"I just wanted to go home. I didn't think, I … Dad. I know it was my own fault. I should have come out of hiding when the sheriff called out for me. But I didn't want him to tell Mom. She'd ground me for being stupid enough to be out there in the first place." Scott didn't cry. Rafael wished he could just cry, but somehow even now, Scott was still holding himself in. " And then he…" a broken sob, "first there were the deer, something spooked them, I had my inhaler out, I was out of breath, just walking in the woods, and then I heard something and the deer were there, they were terrified of something, they ran me over without a hesitation, and I fell. By the time I got back up, I had lost my inhaler. I knew how expensive they are, so I tried to find it, but it was too dark." Rafael didn't care about the inhaler, he wanted to tell Scott this, but he couldn't, not now.

"I was so focused on finding my inhaler that when I saw her, when I saw the body, I startled, I backed up, and I fell, down the hill. By the time I managed to crawl my way back up, I was…and then Peter, this thing, this monster with red eyes, he stood there. He looked at me. This half man, half wolf thing, all fur and fangs and red glowing eyes. For a while after I thought I must have hallucinated, saw a wolf for something else, something monstrous. He didn't care who I was, or why I was there. I was just the first unlucky idiot he came across. He jumped at me, forced me to the ground, I tried to get away, to crawl my way out, but he held me down. And then I felt his teeth pierce through my skin…"

"The doctors said he got lucky. That the dog broke his fall. That if it had been Scott who had hit the edge of the stairs, he could have died. And all I can think of is the bloody leash in his hands, and the look in his face. All he seemed to do was ask about Roxy, if Roxy was fine, if Roxy was going to be okay. He could have died, and none of it mattered to him."

"He pushed himself into my mind, Dad. Tried to make me do things, to harm people, like he was doing, to harm my friends. He was this voice in the back of my head, and I tried to fight it, but it was so hard."

"The judge made him visit at first." They hadn't told the court what had happened or why they broke up. Melissa'd had her pride, and once he promised to dry out, she didn't fight him in court. She demanded custody. That had been all that mattered to her. And Rafe had wanted to give her whatever she wanted, anything to make her take him back. She hadn't.

"Melissa would take him on the bus, and they'd come all the way down to San Francisco, every Saturday, just for a few hours, where Scott and I would sit in a room together, Scott would talk, and I'd just sit there. I didn't know what to say." What could he say, I'm sorry for being a monster? I'm sorry for hurting your mother? I'll do better?

"Melissa would be waiting for us in the diner across the street. So I'd invite her in as well, she'd refuse at first. But I managed to change her mind. No reason for her to waste money on sitting in some diner while I talked with my son. Or didn't talk, or …"

He'd been a fool, pushing her further than he should have. He knew that, but he hadn't been able to stand there, look out the window, and know she was waiting just outside.

"My son and I would sit on different sides of the same room, and I wouldn't be able to talk to him, or touch him, or even look at him. He'd try to talk at me, tell me about school, or his best friend, about all the things kids want to tell their father about, but I couldn't even bring myself to listen, because whenever I did look at him, all I could see was the blood. After a while, I started just bringing my work home with me, working on it even when he was there, desperate to find a reason not to face him."

He scuffled his foot on the wooden floor, not looking at any of the people around him. Forcing himself to stay still, desperate not to think of what Scott must have felt as Rafael just…

"And Scott, he was so angry at me. He hated me for leaving, because he could see right through me. Only instead of telling him the truth, telling him that I needed to get dry, that I wanted to beg him for forgiveness, I would just sit there. Instead of telling him that none of it was his fault, that more than anything I wanted to hold on to him, and never let go, I'd give him some random gift, didn't even bother to think of what he would or wouldn't like. Clothes, toys, whatever I came across that people told me kids his age would like."

They'd been bribes, he'd realized that later, but by then it had been too late already.

"Instead of doing any of things I should have done, I started finding excuses not to show up. Excuses as to why I had more important matters to deal with, just so I didn't have to deal with being a monster to my own son."

One of the men, a guy who looked like a mountain, had tattoos all over his arms and neck, and was dressed in a biker vest, who'd looked tough as nails when Rafe had first come in, started crying. Rafe tried to ignore him. Tried not to think which part of the story the man had been in.

"By the time I finally found the courage to go back, and try and make things up to him, Scott slammed the door in my face. And he had every right to do so." Several of the others murmured, but none of them interrupted him.

"You actually blame yourself for this." Scott looked up at him, tears in his eyes. "You still think it's your fault." He hadn't realized he'd gotten up and was kneeling in front of his son, before he actually did so.

"I should have-" Rafe couldn't let him, not this time, not his son.

"Scott, do you know how often I talk to victims of sexual assault? How often I hear what you are saying, almost word by word? 'I shouldn't have gone to the party.' 'I shouldn't have worn that dress'. 'I shouldn't have gone off with him.' And I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell them: you didn't do this. I would like to blame Stilinski, but it isn't his fault either. You didn't do this, Stiles didn't do this, the guy that attacked you did."

"Peter didn't… he didn't do 'that'. I wasn't raped." As if that made a difference, as if there were only one way for a person to have their body invaded and used.

"No. But you were violated, assaulted, had your body turned into something you no longer recognized. Which in its own way, was just as bad. And you're still blaming yourself for something you' weren't responsible for"

"Melissa let me stay at the house. I still owned it, but she could have kicked me back out. She didn't. It took ages before Scott would even talk to me again. But he did. I just… I still don't get how Melissa and him can even look at me, after all I'd done."

Rafael could no longer hold himself back, and pulled his son into a hug. Scott looked for a moment like he was going to resist, pull away, until finally he gave in, fell into Rafael's arms and cried, tears streaming down his face on Rafael's chest. Rafe could feel the fur grow on Scott's chin, it didn't matter. If this was what Scott needed, then he'd hold on to him. Rafael wondered if this was the first time his son was able to let go. He feared that it was. It didn't feel like it was enough. But before long Scott, was pulling away from him, and the moment was gone.

He didn't want to look at these people, at how they must hate him. After all the stories he'd heard them tell about abusive fathers, and abandoning parents, knowing how many of them were in this hell because of people like him. Because of…

"And then I find out, that the reason they don't see me as the monster, is because someone even worse went after my son. Attacked him, bit him, stalked him, terrorized him, and Scott felt that he shouldn't have to worry his mother with any of it. Because instead of blaming the thing that attacked him, he blamed himself, saw himself as a monster."

"Do you know the worst of it, Dad. The worst thing Peter did? He went after Mom. After all the killing, all the violence and all the abuse, the one thing I hold against him the most, is that he tried to do all this, the bite, the threats, to Mom."

Rafael had never felt so strongly an urge to kill someone as he had in that moment. "He said he'd bite her, too . Turn her into a monster, like he did to me."

"You're not a monster." Rafe was horrified to hear his son describe himself like that. Scott pulled away, his hands turned to claws, blood dripping from his palms, forcing his claws into his own flesh. Rafael wanted to tell him to wait, that he'd get bandages, but the wounds were already healing.

"But I am. Mom knew. So do you. That's what everyone says. That I'm just a monster now. I can control the monster, the beast, but some part of me will always be the same kind of monster that Peter is. After what I did to Liam, pulling him into this-"

"Scott-"

"I get it. Do you think I don't know what I look like, what kind of monster faces back at me when I look into the mirror? I keep my calm, I control myself every moment of every day. But I can feel it inside of me, the urge to kill, to maim — especially during the full moon. Those instincts, they never go away. I am a monster, I just keep a leash on it. I wanted to protect Mom from that, from the monster inside of me. And he took advantage of that."

"The bastard went as far as going on a date with her, knowing what it would do to Scott, just to get close to Scott. And Scott didn't even dare tell her what this man had done to him. So Scott had to stand there and watch them leave together, because he was so used to … to hiding what I did, that hiding what this man did… I don't think he even realized that he was repeating a pattern I taught him, when I should have been the one keeping him safe."

"This man, is he…" He didn't look up to see where the rough sounding voice came from

"Melissa says they sent him to a mental institution."

Scott sent him there. Scott had to send Hale there himself. After the man had Scott kidnapped, and tried to have him murdered by his own friends. Stilinski hadn't even called Rafael to tell him that Scott had been kidnapped. As if it didn't involve him. And Scott… Rafael couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have done to Scott to be that vulnerable, to be taken, controlled, again.

But even that wasn't enough to turn his boy into a killer. His boy, who was so scared of being a monster, of being like him, like Peter, that he couldn't take vengeance, no matter what was done to him. "Melissa says that he's locked up, and won't harm anyone again. That the situation is … dealt with. And part of me wants to abuse my badge, get into that place and beat the crap out of him, put a bullet between his eyes."

Except that it wouldn't make a difference, would it? He was just human and Peter Hale… was anything but. Even if both of them were monsters, both of them had hurt Scott, had damaged his boy beyond imagining.

"Would doing so help your son?" A woman in the group asked.

"No."

Because Scott would judge him for it. Because Scott apparently could find it in himself to give the man, the monster, another chance, even after Hale kidnapped him, betrayed him again, and tried to get Scott killed by his own friends.

Yet even after all that, his son could still find it in himself to forgive the man that had done it all to him, just like he'd forgiven Rafael himself. Like all it took for him to let Rafe himself back in, was for Rafael to just be there, to hang in there.

Scott trembled a moment more, then his emotions were once again pulled in, once again hidden. So calm, back under the leash, and Rafael wanted to scream at him to get it back off, to have Scott let go, just this once. But that wasn't his right, it was Scott's, and Scott didn't want it."

It was … terrifying.

"He wouldn't want me to. My son's a saint. He's a martyr who cares about everyone else's pain but his own. He's forgiving beyond a fault, forgave even me, eventually. Because that's the kind of person he is."

Stiles had come in, just as Scott an Rafael were almost done. He'd glared at Rafael when he saw the tears on Scott's face. He probably thought … who knows what that kid thought."

"And I did that to him. I made him think that other people's needs mattered more than him. That he matters so little. That his needs are so unimportant, that sacrificing them for everyone else's sake is just to be expected." He dropped the coin, ignoring the clang as it hit the floor, dropped his head in his hands. Refusing to face anyone.

"He's a good boy, a good man, my son. He saves lives. People depend on him to look after them, to keep them safe. People look up to him. He's a hero. He's… incorruptible, they say." Tears fell. "And none of them can see just how broken he is."

"I can't even blame myself for it, because that would be taking responsibility for raising a hero, which was all down to Melissa. I should tell him to run, to abandon his responsibilities, abandon all the people who depend on him, who rely on him, but he'll throw himself under a bus before he'll ever do that"

"He'd laugh in your face," the biker said. The man looked at him, and it reminded him so much of Scott.

"Worse: he'd understand. And I can never forgive myself for that."

fin