All That Remains

Genre: Gen. Friendship/Supernatural/AU

Starts after the first couple of episodes of 3B, AU from there.

Pairings: None.

Warnings: Character death.

Summary: Scott never expected to lose his best friend in such an ordinary way, but when are things ever ordinary in Beacon Hills?

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

First time writing in this fandom. Would love to know what you think.


Chapter 1

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"

The priest's words were still ringing in Scott McCall's ears as the first fat drops of rain spattered against the coffin being lowered slowly into the earth. The rest of the gathered mourners had headed for their cars after the first grumble of thunder had rolled through, but Scott stayed, hands jammed into the pockets of his only black suit, staring at the simple casket that held the body of his best friend.

It seemed unbelievable that only a few days ago Stiles had been planning their annual Halloween pranks, laughing as he described how this year would be the best yet.

That prank had never been pulled.

Scott winced as he though back to that fateful afternoon. He had wanted to try and get to know the new girl, Kira, and decided to stay a bit longer after school, hoping to catch her alone. Scott had told Stiles he would meet him later, and Stiles, after making one of his usual sarcastic comments, had driven off in the direction of his house. He never made it to his destination.

Scott would never forget the sound of Lydia's scream that had echoed through the halls of the high school, bringing those few still within earshot (and one from even further away) running. He had found her outside the coach's office, sobbing, with Aiden trying unsuccessfully to comfort her.

"Who?" he had asked, and one look into her eyes sent a chill down his spine. She managed to gasp out 'I'm sorry' before Scott had run for the exit, nearly colliding with Derek on the way out.

"Who is it?"

Scott had just pushed past Derek, jumped on his bike and gunned it. A few miles down the road he found two sets of skid marks, one set of which veered off the edge of the road and down into a deep ravine. The coppery stench of blood told him it was bad, but he hadn't been prepared for what he had found at the bottom. Derek had arrived just as he was desperately trying to pull Stiles' body from the wreckage and had dragged Scott away, telling him in an oddly choked voice that it was too late, that Stiles' heart was no longer beating.

"Scott?"

He turned to find his mother standing next to him, an umbrella poised over them both.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She cupped a gentle hand to his cheek. "It's time to go. You're getting soaked."

Scott turned away and looked back down at the coffin, now resting at the bottom of the grave. "I can't believe he's…This should never have happened. If I had just gone with him…"

She turned his head and forced him to look into her eyes. "This was not your fault, Scott. The only one who deserves blame is the drunk that caused the accident. There was nothing you could have done."

"But if I had been there, I could have done something. I could have…I could have saved him."

Melissa sighed. "Scott, you know what the doctors said. Stiles was…he died instantly on impact. Even if you had been in that jeep with him…there was nothing you could have done…and I might have lost you, too."

"I'm sorry."

She drew him into a hug, holding him tightly as he let out his grief.

"It's OK, honey. It's going to be OK."

"I miss him, Mom," Scott mumbled against her shoulder.

"I know…I know you do. We all do. Stiles was…he was one of a kind."

Finally he released her and she reached up to wipe away a stray tear. "You ready to go?"

He took one final look at Stiles' grave and nodded. Melissa put an arm around his shoulder and they headed for the car. Isaac and Derek were waiting at the edge of the parking lot for them, along with Allison and Lydia. Allison's face was tear-stained, while Lydia looked paler than Scott had ever seen her.

"You OK?" Isaac asked, and Scott gave a brief nod before turning to the girls.

"Are you going to be alright?" He directed the question to Lydia, but his gaze lingered on Allison for a few moments as he waited for her answer.

"I don't know," Lydia replied. "I…" Her lower lip started to tremble. "What's the point of…being able to do what I can do, if I can't…If I can't help? If I can't stop it from happening?"

"There has to be some point to it," Allison tried to reassure her, but Lydia just bit her lip and turned away, her shoulders shaking as she hurried towards her car. Allison quickly followed, glancing back at Scott before she caught up with Lydia and put an arm around her shoulder.

"You should probably go with them," Scott told Isaac, who looked rather surprised at the command.

"You don't want to…?"

"I kind of want to be alone right now."

"Understood. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Isaac dashed off after the girls and Derek cleared his throat, drawing Scott's attention.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Scott. Stiles was…he was a good friend."

"Yeah, he was. The best."

Derek looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he turned and headed for his own car. Scott and Melissa started off in the opposite direction but Scott stopped when he caught sight of Stiles' dad. The sheriff was sitting in his car, unmoving.

"Sheriff?" Scott asked as he approached. "Are you OK?"

The sheriff let out a humorless chuckle. "No. No, I'm not."

"Do you need someone to stay with you for awhile?" Melissa asked, and he shook his head.

"I don't think so. I wouldn't be very good company."

Melissa reached through the open window of his car and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry for your loss."

The sheriff gave her a weak smile. "Thank you." He turned to Scott. "Thank you for being his friend."

Scott's voice caught in his throat and he barely managed to nod in reply.

"If you need anything…" Melissa began and he shook his head again.

"I don't think anyone can give me what I need right now, but thank you." He opened the door and stepped out. "Excuse me." He started walking back towards the gravesite.

Scott turned to his mother. "Should we…?"

"No. Not right now. Come on, let's go home."

The ride back to their house was silent. Once inside, Scott went up to his room to change and then flopped down on his bed, trying to keep the memories of the past few days at bay. He pulled out his phone, tempted to listen to Stiles' last message, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He glanced over as his computer, almost expecting a chat request from Stiles to pop up, but the computer remained silent. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

Soon the memories washed over him, unbidden: the first time he and Stiles had met…their first outing together…their many attempts to dodge the wrath of elementary and middle school bullies…the pranks they had played on each other and their unsuspecting classmates, and eventually teachers…practicing lacrosse and hoping to make first line…and the insanity that had overtaken their lives after the fateful night when Scott had been bitten, and everything that had happened since.

The ache in Scott's chest that had been present ever since he's heard Lydia's banshee cry became almost unbearable. He couldn't imagine how life would be now without his friend to be there for him, to keep him (mostly) out of trouble, and to be the voice of reason in his often crazy existence. Stiles had been his brother in everything but blood, and now Scott felt like a part of himself had been ripped away.

A soft knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his dark thoughts and he opened his eyes to see his mother open the door enough to poke her head in.

"Dinner's ready."

"Not hungry.'

Melissa opened the door all the way and stepped into his room then walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. She watched him for a few moments with a sad, sympathetic expression on her face, waiting for him to speak.

"I always had this idea that he'd always be there, you know?" He began. "I took him for granted. He stuck by me, through…everything. I don't know what I'm going to do without him, Mom."

"You'll survive, and succeed, and honor him…every day. Just by doing what you know is right. I think that's what he would have wanted for you."

"Maybe…"

She patted his knee. "No, not maybe. He would. Now come on. You need to eat something."

"In a while, OK?"

"Alright."

She left, quietly closing the door behind her, and he heard her go back downstairs. Scott settled back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and going over his mother's words in his head. He would honor his friend. He owed Stiles that much.

The doorbell rang and he sat up, checked the clock and wondered who would be dropping by this time of night. He heard his mother open the front door and suddenly the relative quiet of the house was shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

Scott was out the door in a flash, his feet barely touching the floor as he dashed down the stairs. He saw his mother lying in a motionless heap in front of the open door and a wet, mud-covered figure crouching next to her, its hand on her neck.

"Get away from her!"

The figure spun around, sputtering.

"I-I don't know what happened! I just…she just screamed and then she was on the ground! I'm sorry!"

Scott stared in shock at the impossibly familiar face in front of him.

"Stiles?"

TBC…