A/N: Alternate ending to season two. Erica and Boyd don't run away and no alpha pack. Something happens that makes Scott leave Beacon Hills. Pretty much everything else stays the same though.
Scott
Not a day goes by that Scott doesn't think about Beacon hills and the life that he left behind over a year ago now. He missed the town with all his heart for the first few months but after the death of his mother he couldn't seem to stay there among all the painful memories that evoked a mixture of emotions in him. He felt anger first and foremost. Anger towards the Argents and the fact that they were the reason that Gerard ended up in Beacon Hills in the first place. His emotions became more complicated when it came to Allison, however.
He could not blame her for the death of his mother yet he could not forgive the sense of betrayal that he felt when she decided to side with her psychotic grandfather, oblivious to his dark and evil nature. Scott understood her pain after her mother's death yet he could not bring himself to forgive her and after they pulled his mother's body from the charred remains of his house he couldn't face the sympathetic looks or the apologies of his friends any longer. The very next morning he left without telling anyone, leaving the seemingly quiet and peaceful town in his wake. He knew they would be sad and feel betrayed at first, especially Stiles, he thought to himself with a smile as he turned on the ignition in his mother's car, well now his, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing. At least Stiles knew he was going as he took the time to stop at his best friend's house and say goodbye to his loyal friend with a heavy heart. He knew that Stiles would understand and eventually, after tears and much attempted persuasion on Stiles' part the pair finally parted ways.
Yet, here he stood almost sixteen months later on the outskirts of his former home as rain beat down upon him and plastered his dark hair to his forehead, blood trickling down the sleeve of his navy hoodie and dripping onto the road. He winced as he shifted the strap of his rucksack to his other shoulder and it lightly brushed the wound that began at his shoulder and ended at the crook of his elbow.
He turned and started to walk towards the bright neon lights that signalled the location of a rundown motel just outside of the town. "I've stayed in worse," he muttered darkly to himself as he approached the front of the motel and silently prayed that someone would be on duty at this late hour. Someone must have been looking out for him above as he saw a light on in the reception.
A bell chimed merrily as he entered the reception and a young woman smiled nicely at him. "What can I do for you?" she asked pleasantly. Scott smiled half-heartedly in her direction and said, "A room for the night." He handed her his credit card and after a second she nodded to herself and handed him his credit card back along with a key. Number 13, great, Scott thought darkly, smiling to himself at the irony of the number in relation to his current situation "Thanks," he muttered, not caring whether or not the woman noticed the large would in his arm as he turned or the small pool of blood that had gathered below him as he paid for his room.
Once inside his room, nothing fancy but not as bad as he had expected it to be, he dropped his rucksack and collapsed onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. He wanted nothing more than to sleep but he knew that he had to clean his wound sooner rather than later. So with a tired huff he pulled himself off the bed and looked around his room. A dark wooden table stood in the corner with a large retro television sitting on it. To the left of his bed was a sink along with various other kitchen utensils and lastly he spotted another door that he assumed was the bathroom.
He stopped at his rucksack and pulled out a few bandages and a bottle of whiskey and headed for the bathroom. He flicked on the light and was greeted with a rusted toiled in the corner accompanied by a cracked, fake marble sink and a tiny shower booth in the corner. Scott sighed and peeled his hoodie off and then his black t-shirt and opened the bottle of whiskey. He gritted his teeth while holding his arm over the sink and poured the amber liquid over his wound. A gasp escaped from him accompanied by a weak moan as he arched his back in pain while his eyes changed from deep brown to a blood red. When the pain subsided and he stopped shaking and set down the bottle and began to dress and bandage the wound before weakly leaving the bloody sink behind, bottle in hand and collapsing once more on his hard mattress, not even bothering to clean up after himself. He turned on his back and blindly reached for the bottle of jack and taking a large gulp from the bottle, savouring the feeling as the alcohol stung his dry throat on the way down.
This is my life now he thought grimly as he took another deep swig from the bottle. His tummy rumbled with hunger and he looked at his bandaged arm. Maybe you might heal if I had eaten or slept in the last three days.
Just as he was about to settle down to sleep he was broken from his alcohol muddled thoughts by the sharp ringing of his I-phone. "Hello," he answered in a low, slightly slurred voice. "Scott? Is that you?" came the worried reply of a girl's voice from the other end. "Yeah it's me," he replied tiredly, the half bottle of whiskey he drank starting to take effect. "Have you been drinking again?" came the accusation from the other end, a hint of worry also underlying the tone. "No," he huffed in an unconvincing tone before sighing and saying, "only a small bit." There was silence on the line for a moment before he heard the girls voice once more, urgent and firm. "Scott, listen to me. You need to get your head in the game. The rest of us are in California, safe for the moment. They are coming for you and if the find you then they will kill you, you know that, right?" Scott rolled his eyes before replying, "Look I only had a small bit to drink alright? And I know the danger I'm in but right now I don't care. I told you that I have connections here and I'll be ok for now. But right now I got to go," he said before hanging up the phone without hesitation and letting sleep envelope him for the first time in three days.
Derek
Derek could tell that there was another Alpha in Beacon Hills from the moment that it entered the town. He knew that the rest of his pack could sense it too. Isaac looked up nervously before asking "Is it a new pack?" Derek shook his head uncertainly. "I'm not sure. We can only sense the alpha because it has the strongest scent. There may be others with it but we'll have to get closer to be sure," he replied. Isaac nodded and Boyd looked up from his seat in the corner of Derek's loft. "Let's go now. We've had nothing to do all summer and I'm actually so bored I'm looking forward to school starting up again," he complained while rising from his chair. Erica nodded her head vigorously in confirmation also. Derek looked at them one by one before nodding his head and saying "let's go then."
They ran in pack formation with Derek at the head and Boyd at the rear flanked by Isaac and Erica. The followed the scent to the outskirts or the town and they ended up outside a dirty, rundown motel right at the edge of Beacon Hills. The alpha's scent was strongest here and was mixed with the pungent smell of blood, alcohol and sweat. Derek wrinkled his nose in disgust. A lone alcoholic alpha, he smirked to himself. That's a first. Just as he was about to turn and tell the pack it was nothing to worry about and that it was just a lone alpha passing through he froze and stared intently at room number 13 where he thought he could smell a vaguely familiar scent.
It struck a chord within him so deep that he thought he had long forgotten the scent of that particular wolf. It can't be him, Derek thought. If he did return then surely he would have come and seen one of us, one of his pack. But he's an alpha now, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. And if he really cared about any of you then he wouldn't have left in the first place. Derek shook his head removing the troubled expression from his face before turning back to the rest of his pack, hoping that they did not notice the familiar scent wafting from the motel. The three betas looked at him expectantly for answers. "It's nothing, just a rogue alpha passing through. It holds no threat," he said curtly before he set his trademark frown on his face and took off running back towards his apartment with his pack following closely.
Scott
Scott awoke the following morning with a throbbing head and the familiar taste of jack in his mouth. With a groan he rolled over and literally fell out of his bed, smacking his head off the bedside locker forcing him to curse heavily before he staggered upright. His throat was dry and he looked around desperately for something to drink before his sleepy eyes finally fell on the half-finished bottle of jack on his bedside table before shrugging and picking up the bottle. "I'm gonna regret this," he slurred before downing the rest of the bottle with two gulps.
After he was finished he searched through his rucksack before finding a fresh towel and some fresh clothes before stumbling into the shower and running the cold water. After his shower he felt marginally better but his headache persisted and it was only worsened by his fresh attack on the whiskey which was now starting to take its toll on him once more. He looked in the mirror at his arm and was relieved to see that the wound had mostly healed overnight and now it was only a long red scab which would probably scar. Oh well, it's not like I don't want to ruin my flawless skin or anything, he muttered to himself in the mirror which showed the many scars which adorned his torso and back.
Scott pulled on a long sleeved grey shirt and a pair of jeans before making his way out of his room and over to the reception, not even bothering to lock the door. He entered the reception and walked up to the desk where a different, older woman looked him up and down with disapproving eyes. God, I must look drunker than I thought, he realised grimly before handing the woman his credit card and saying "I'll be staying here for the next week." She nodded and swiped the credit card before handing it back to him and stomping off muttering about drugs and teenagers. Scott smirked in her direction before placing his credit card back in his wallet and leaving the reception and looking for a place to get something to eat. Just on cue his tummy rumbled once more and Scott said, "I hear ya buddy. I'm getting something to eat now." With that he took off, staggering slightly, into the centre of the town looking for a café or somewhere with food.
He eventually found a café where he ordered some pancakes and coffee from a teenage girl who took one glance at him, blushed, and didn't look up once more. He smiled to himself thinking back on a time when he was shy and innocent like that, wondering would he trade his life now for the one he had then. Sure his life sucks at the moment. He's being hunted by a pack of hungry wolves and an enraged group of hunters and the chances of him surviving until the end of the month were slim. But then again he remembered the life he had before the bite. He remembered a life where he was not popular, his only friend was Stiles, he wasn't good at lacrosse or anything really and nothing exciting ever happened.
When he thought about it he probably wouldn't want it any other way than it was now. Sure he was a teenage drunk with a death warrant on his head but the last two years of his life were the most exciting he had ever had, with the exception being the death of his mother.
The young waitress returned with his pancakes and a cup of steaming coffee and blushed furiously when Scott said "thanks." The coffee and food helped to sober him up and settle his stomach and he left the café after twenty minutes, throwing a ten dollar note on the table and smiling at the shy waitress on the way out. Once out in the fresh air he sighed and stopped in his tracks. I guess there's nothing left to do except stop in a liquor store on the way home, buy more jack and patiently wait for my impending doom, he thought harshly and that was exactly what he did.