Set after Episode 2 Chapter 6 of my Swim Series this is an alternative one shot that was written by request. It's not a part of my story but rather a thank you to a reader who enjoyed it so I thought that I would share …

Dedicated to 'orionastro'

Scott hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket before getting to his feet and quietly entering the sheriff's hospital room. He could hear Stiles' soft breathing mingling with the sound of machines and adding humanity to Mr. Stilinski's cold and clinical room. His friend looked so young as he slept next to his father clutching his hand like a lifeline and it broke Scott's heart to think that he had had a hand in this. Why hadn't he been able to believe his best friend?

Time and time again Stiles had come to him with concerns then coincidences then even proof but none of it had been good enough to put Scott on edge, to even make him wary of Theo's motivations and the consequences … of course they wouldn't land on Scott would they, that was the worst part of it, they had fallen back on his brother the one who had been trying to warn them was the one who was suffering the consequences. A wave of guilt crashed over Scott and he couldn't help but put a hand out to rest on Stiles' shoulder and to ground himself.

The pressure of Scott's hand on his shoulder caused Stiles to stir, an unintelligible murmur leaving his lips before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

The feel of Stiles' shoulder warmed his hand and the measured rise and fall of his breathing calmed Scott to his bones. Why had he abandoned the one person who had always been there for him no matter what? The person who had risked life and limb for him? And as he asked himself these questions the last word that Stiles had thrown at him came back to haunt him, the worst word, and maybe a true word …

Traitor.

As Scott stood there lost in his guilt ridden thoughts about Stiles a soft moan escaped the sleeping boy's lips and Scott could hear his heart rate increase. Once his body started to shudder under Scott's hand he knew Stiles must be having a nightmare and without thinking about it his hands took over, rubbing Stiles' shoulders to ease the muscle tension that was building by the second. Scott bent his head down towards Stile's neck and softly whispered, "Shhhhhhh, it's okay, you're okay, you're with your dad and your safe." Who knew if those words were true but Scott knew for a certainty that right now he would do everything in his power to make sure that they were.

After a few minutes Scott could feel Stiles start to calm then slip back into a deeper sleep and only then did Scott completely exhale unaware of how much tension he had been carrying during Stiles' nightmare. Gee Stiles smelt good. What was that? Scott couldn't help but chuckle to himself, "and the award for most inappropriate thoughts during a life and death crisis goes to …" Why was he finding Stile's aroma so distracting? Did it really help to fixate on the way that his hair was starting to curl by his neck made him look younger and kinda adorable? Since when did Scott find Stiles adorable?

Whoa … what was that? This was Stiles who he had known for like ever and was practically his brother … practically… not technically …

Dude, really?

And what about Kira, where was she in all of this potentially guilt fuelled affection? Cute total BAMF Kira, whom he he missed and couldn't wait to make out with. Was this just the alphas protective instincts kicking in, or …

Stiles whimpered in his sleep and Scott reached up to run a hand through his brown locks in an effort to sooth away the bad dreams. As his fingers combed through Stiles' hair he marveled at how thick and surprisingly soft it felt against his skin.

Perhaps because of the dreams that seemed to be plaguing his unconscious mind, or perhaps because of Scott's presence, Stiles stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

The dreams had been black and endless, a deep emptiness where Stiles sat chained and alone. The darkness was so thorough it didn't matter how far he opened his eyes he could see less than a blind man, the silence so oppressive it felt like it would suffocate him, and the only sensation he felt was from the chains that bound him in place unable to move, unable to get help, unable to help anyone, helpless. But as intimidating, even scary, as this may have seemed Stiles felt little more than the occasional moment of discomfort for deep down inside his core there was another idea growing to give him comfort, something darker than the blackness, something more filling than the silence but something that was Stiles, that would protect him, something with power.

A soft and comforting sensation woke Stiles from his dreams and his eyes fluttered open, the familiar sounds of his father's machines helping him focus on his surroundings. He was still in hospital keeping vigil by his father's bed … but he wasn't alone, there was a heavy and reassuring warmth sitting on Stiles' shoulder and a hand was sending ripples of comfort through his body with every stroke and scalp touch … he wasn't alone!

This time the thought registered with his sleep fogged brain and all of a sudden he was wide-awake and his body was pulling away from the touch and whipping around to stand and face the intruder.

"Scott?"

Stiles couldn't hide his obvious surprise at seeing his friend sanding there in his father's hospital room. He was becoming used to being alone and muddling through by himself but seeing Scott there, his body still wearing the warmth of Scott's soothing touch, Stiles could feel a little bit of hope start to bloom in his chest; perhaps he didn't have to do this all on his own.

"How is he?"

At Scott's question Stiles turned back to look down at the peaceful face of his sleeping father, at the monitor that tracked his heartbeats and could stop again at any time, at the machine that was keeping him breathing, and his words got stuck in his throat, all he could manage was a sad head shake as his thumb gently stroked over the back of his dad's hand which hadn't left his grasp the entire time.

Scott could feel his heart breaking as he watched Stiles in such pain, unable to even voice his fears that his father might not wake up again incase they should come to pass. He wished he could reach out and take this pain from him but his wolf couldn't help with this, this was the sort of pain that stayed.

"Stiles, I'm sorry."

Stiles' eyes rose to look over at Scott and saw the sadness he felt reflected back at him, saw the shine of unshed tears in his friends eyes.

Scott reached up and put his hand on Stiles' shoulder and this time he put all the meaning into those two little words that carried so much weight, his voice catching at the end, "I'm sorry."

Was it the feeling of a strong hand on his shoulder offering comfort? Was it the warmth of having someone else so close? Was it the offer he heard in Scott's words, the apology, the promise? Stiles couldn't say what it was exactly but at that moment he felt his anger towards Scott fading and then he was just a teenager standing in front of his best friend terrified of losing his father. Stiles couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with gentle sobs.

At the sight of his brother standing there all alone crying, Scott grabbed a handful of Stiles' shirt and pulled his body towards him, wrapping his arms around him and enveloping him in a strong hug. With their bodies pressed tightly together Scott could feel Stiles shaking gently as he wrapped his arms around Scott and returned the hug.

"We'll figure this out Stiles." And these weren't empty words of comfort he meant it. As he inhaled Stiles' scent he was filled with a sense of rightness, this is how it was supposed to be.