Scott runs almost frantically through the forest, eyes darting in search of his best friend.
"Stiles?!" He calls out.
Forcing himself to stop, the werewolf alpha tries not to give into the panic that is on the verge of bubbling to the surface. He closes his eyes and listens.
Among the sounds of birds calling, leaves rustling, and squirrels jumping from tree to tree, is the soft fluttering of a heartbeat.
Scott sprints forward as fast as he can.
"Stiles!" The werewolf shouts when he sees his friend laying on his back amongst the fallen leaves on the forest floor. Thick crimson stains the front of his shirt and pools around his body. His eyes are closed and his breathing is labored.
Scott falls to his knees and cradles the teenager's face in his hands. "Stiles, can you hear me?" He calls.
When Stiles doesn't answer, the werewolf searches for the source of the blood. Too much blood.
Ripping open the human's shirt, Scott finds a hole in Stiles' chest, between his ribs. He's been shot.
Scott presses both of his hands the wound in attempt to stop the bleeding.
The sudden pressure causes the injured human to groan. His eyes open to slits, "Scott?"
"Yeah, buddy, I'm here." The werewolf answers, relief clear in his voice.
"What..." Stiles trails off. He shifts under Scott's hands.
The alpha holds the writhing teenager down. "Stay still. You're hurt, but you're gonna be fine." Scott tries to console, although he isn't sure if it's more for Stiles or himself.
"Mmm." Stiles answers, too delirious to speak.
Sticky, hot blood still pumps through the hole in the human's chest, despite Scott's hands in its path. The bleeding isn't stopping, and he's already lost too much.
There's only one thing Scott can think of doing now. One last chance to save his brother's life.
"Stiles, I have to give you the bite. You need to give me your consent."
The bleeding boy's head lolls to the side, eyes closed once again. "Urhh." He groans.
"Please, Stiles." Scott begs.
But his best friend is too far gone.
With tears sliding down his face, the alpha takes his crimson coated hands from the human's chest and reaches for his left arm. Scott gently pulls the boy's forearm to his lips. He bites down, ripping through the delicate skin.
Immediately, Stiles flinches and grunts in pain.
"I'm sorry." The alpha sobs.
Again, Scott applies pressure to the bullet wound with his hands, waiting for the bite to take.
"Scott..." Stiles mumbles, the only sign that he's conscious.
"Hey, man. How are you feeling?"
The injured teenager swats at his chest with his right hand, hitting Scott's in the process. " 't hurts." Stiles answers lazily. "Arm stings."
"I had to bite you." Scott explains.
"You... bit me..." he pauses, "I'm gonna be a werewolf."
'He's becoming more coherent. That's a good sign.' Scott thinks to himself.
"You'll be okay now." The alpha says, more tears filling his eyes.
But his face goes pale when he lifts his hands to check the bleeding. It had only slowed slightly, and none of the wounds are healing at all.
"N-no." Scott breathes, too softly for the injured boy to hear.
Then Stiles' weakened voice yanks Scott from his quickly darkening thoughts.
"What color are my eyes?"
The werewolf alpha forces himself to look from the bullet wound to Stiles' face.
"You're gonna have to open your eyes for me to see their color." Scott tries to tease.
Stiles chuckles. "Right," he mumbles.
Slowly, and with a great amount of effort, the teenager lifts his heavy eyelids.
Bright blue orbs that had once been honey brown greeted Scott.
How could fate be so cruel as to punish a boy for crimes committed by an intruder inside his body? How could fate punish a boy who would do anything to protect his love ones, and then thank the boy with a bullet to the chest?
Yet that is exactly what fate did.
Scott doesn't hesitate when he answers Stiles' question, "Gold. Your eyes are gold."
Stiles smiles weakly with relief.
The new werewolf's heart suddenly shudders before stopping completely. His last breath escaping past his lips in a hiss. His vibrant blue eyes fade back their their original brown, but now they're dull and void of life.
"No! Stiles!" Scott shouts, lifting his best friend's head and cradling it. "Please, please, don't go."
Scott sobs uncontrollably leaning his forehead into his deceased friend's hair. He wraps one of his arms around Stiles' torso, and rocks back and forth.
The two sit like that for what seems like hours. The alpha weeping for his best friend.
Eventually Scott pulls away, and gently closes his brother's eyes for the final time.