A/N

Hey guys! I don't normally post two chapters of a story in one day but I figured I'd make an exception because this sequel has been a long time coming. So here's chapter two! This chapter is the ending of TW 509, but with a twist. I do write the Scott/Stiles argument but I added a lot of what Stiles as a hunter would be thinking. So make sure to review, check out my other stories, and enjoy!

Ch. 2

The Breakup Scene

Stiles hated being right. But more than that, he hated making mistakes. And his heart plummeted the moment Scott had taken out that wrench.

Ok, so he had lied about why he was late, but the part about Malia and Lydia was true. Stiles had tried calling them after Kevin to no avail. And Stiles should have seen how downtrodden Scott had looked before the wrench came into play.

It still had blood on it. How did it still have blood on it? Why had Stiles left it behind at all? Because he had stricken Donovan with it, and he must have been in too much of a panic to keep track of it.

"Where did you get that?" Stiles asked, and it came out a little more foreboding than curious, because he hated being right. Scott knew. Somehow, he knew. The question was what he knew.

Scott still held the wrench out for him. "Is this yours?" he asked, like he really did not want to know the answer, but knew it anyway. He looked like he had witnessed an entire truckload of puppies get trampled. Stiles took the wrench from him but Scott only seemed to look worse, as if the picture of Stiles with the wrench put some awful vision to life.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Scott asked desperately, and Stiles wanted to hurt whoever had put his best friend in this state. Then he realized it was him, and Stiles felt a surging need to remedy this, to save Scott the pain of thinking his best friend was a murderer.

"I wanted to." Stiles said truthfully, and he flashed back to that horrible night, to Kevin saying to get it over with. Do you want him finding out now or later down the road? Well it looked like it was the end of the line. Shame at his own stupidity kept Stiles from looking Scott in the eye as he spoke, so he turned the wrench over again in his hands. Why a wrench? Scott kept eyeing it warily, so it was clearly an object of much angst. But why? Stiles had boxed Donovan in the jaw, he hadn't brained him with it.

"Why didn't you tell me when it happened?" Scott pleaded, and Stiles didn't have a good answer. He had wanted to. Kevin had wanted him to. But he hadn't because...

...because he wasn't sure how much more his friend could take, because he couldn't tarnish Scott's perfect image of him any further.

"I couldn't." Stiles said, and he wished it wasn't true.

"You killed him?" Scott asked, like there was any shadow of a doubt, like he was still desperately hoping the evidence stacked against Stiles was false. "You killed Donovan?"

He was going to kill me! Stiles mentally screamed. He was going to eat my legs! But if Scott knew the truth then he surely knew that, and thought that that wasn't sufficient information, self-defense wasn't a justifiable enough cause. So he explained the protecting of another innocent.

"He was going to kill my dad! What was I supposed to do, let him?" Stiles challenged. But he was beginning to wonder if Scott would say yes. Was Stiles allowed to protect no one?

"You weren't supposed to do this." Scott said sadly, and that was as good as a yes. "None of us are." Stiles had done the wrong thing. Stiles should have been smarter. Stiles wasn't an us anymore. Stiles shouldn't have thought like a hunter. Stiles shouldn't have killed like one.

"What, you think I had a choice?" Stiles asked. You think I can change who I am, what's been written in me for years? You think I can go against my instinct when my life is in danger? It was true, Stiles' first thought had been to kill, not to save. But Scott was all about going against instinct, wasn't he? That was why he chained Liam to trees, why he fought and fought against the moon's pull, even at his most vulnerable. He was constantly thrashing against his nature in a desperate attempt to return to normal. But Stiles was human, and Stiles had apparently had a choice. Stiles didn't fit Scott's mould of control. Stiles was weak.

Weak and dangerous. That must be what Scott thought. I can't be trusted anymore.

"There's always a choice!" Scott assured, and Stiles' blood boiled. Of course there is. Him or me. Would you have rather seen my body eaten alive if it meant I kept my hands clean? Because Stiles' hands weren't clean. And Scott never had a problem before. What had changed?

"I can't do what you can, Scott!" I can do worse. I can't protect myself without dishing it back. "I know you wouldn't have done this! You probably would have just figured something out, right? Like New Orleans?"

Scott winced at the memory. "I'd try." he admitted, disappointment clear in his gaze.

And suddenly Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the fact that Scott was disappointed in Stiles for escaping from a deadly creature unscathed.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE SCOTT MCCALL!" Stiles shouted, and Sam and Dean warned him to never lose his temper. But Sam and Dean weren't here. "You're the true alpha! Well guess what? All of us can't be true alphas! Some of us have to make mistakes!" Like Katherine, like Alexander, like Kai. "Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes!" Like Katherine, like Alexander, like Kai. "Some of us are HUMAN!" Like Matt, like Jeremy, like Allison, like Elena, like Mason, or did it not matter that Stiles' actions had saved their lives?

"So you had to kill him?" Scott asked, and Stiles fumed. Did Scott truly believe there had been no other way? Or was Scott looking at Stiles and only seeing the bloodthirsty, ruthless hunters they had come across. Hunters that were nothing like Stiles. Was Scott beginning to doubt that?

"Scott, he was going to kill my dad!" Stiles said, begging for him to understand that it was about more than protecting himself. He was protecting everyone who could not protect themselves.

"The way that it happened," Scott said, sadness turned to horror as he began to recollect what must have been his vivid picture of the scaffolding coming down, "there's a point that it's not self defense anymore!"

"What are you even talking about?" Stiles asked angrily. Because he remembered clawing desperately for salvation, enduring Donovan's threats like they were knives in his stomach. "I didn't have a choice, Scott!" Scott looked incredulous, and it was beginning to make sense to Stiles. We protect those who cannot protect themselves. That was the bottom line, wasn't it? The new hunter's code that Stiles had sworn to follow? In Scott's eyes, Donovan couldn't protect himself, and Stiles was ill-suited to protect him. In Scott's eyes, the only ones worthy of doing the protecting were those who were above humans, the supernatural. Because humans, because hunters, couldn't be trusted to not revert to their old code. We hunt those who hunt us. Donovan had hunted Stiles, and Stiles had failed to protect. "You don't even believe me, do you?" Stiles asked, and he wasn't just asking about Donovan. He was asking if Scott believed he was an honest hunter.

"I want to." Scott said, and Stiles' heart nearly soared at the prospect that all hope was not lost. If Scott could simply understand...

"Then believe me!" Stiles said. He was hopeful, and that hope shattered when Scott continued to look rejected. It shouldn't be that difficult! "Scott, say you believe me!" What was there to think about? "Say it. Say you believe me."

"Stiles, we can't kill people that we're trying to save." Scott said, and Stiles knew that he still didn't understand. Not all things could be saved! It was Stiles or Donovan, and one of them wasn't a starving wendigo! Did Scott truly value Stiles' survival so little that he would cast it aside for every wayward creature?

"Say you believe me." Stiles said, more forcefully this time, because it wasn't, couldn't, be true. He took a step forward, and accidentally raised the wrench in the process. Scott practically lept away, and Stiles knew there was no salvaging them, not if Scott was that afraid of him. But he kept shooting terrified glances at the wrench. Why? It wasn't the murder weapon, Scott should have been looking at iron beams with that kind of terror.

"We can't kill people!" Scott asserted. "Do you believe that?"

But I already have! Stiles thought. Does that mean I'm not worth saving? "What do I do about this?" he asked, praying for a glimmer of a second chance. "Alexander, Katherine, Caroline? It's too late for me! What do you want me to do, ok? Scott, just tell me how to fix this, alright? How can I not be who I am, just tell me, what do you want me to do?"

Scott looked lost, as if he, a werewolf, had no idea what to do about Stiles' unfortunate identity. It was the trial all over again- and that hadn't even been Scott's decision. He had begged the pack to take that responsibility away from him.

"Don't worry about Malia or Lydia." Scott finally decided. Don't worry about a pack that isn't yours anymore. "We'll find them. Maybe you should talk to your dad."

He already knows! Stiles wanted to shout at him. But he was too upset to think straight. Instead, he could only watch as Scott turned his back on him and went into the animal clinic. Without Stiles.

Stiles turned the wrench over in his hand for what felt like forever, staring, contemplating. Once the absolute pain of rejection had cleared slightly, he began to realize his second mistake. Ironically, it was the exact same one as the first.

Scott had looked at the wrench with fear in his eyes, as if it were the ultimate catalyst that changed Stiles from his friend into a monstrous hunter. The wrench hadn't been the murder weapon. But what if Scott thought it was?

Oh, god. It was all making sense, now. Why Scott was so fixated on the goddam wrench. Why seeing Stiles hold it seemed to be unbearable. Why seeing Stiles raise it made him want to run away. Why he questioned that what Stiles had done hadn't been self defense. Because as far as Stiles knew, the only way to kill someone with a wrench was to beat their skull in with it. Stiles winced at the mere thought of doing that to Donovan. Imagine if that had actually happened? It certainly wouldn't have been self defense! It would have been brutal, it would have been animalistic, and it would have been terrifying to witness. Scott thought his friend had turned into a cold-blooded killer, when he couldn't be further from the truth.

Theo must have lied to him.

And that thought made Stiles spring into action. Because The had finally made his move, and it had worked. Stiles had underestimated him again.

"Scott!" Stiles yelled, running up to the clinic and pulling on the doors. They were locked, and Stiles was only hurt for a second that Scott felt the need to protect himself from Stiles. "Scott! Open up!" He began pounding on the door with a ferocity, and while that wouldn't help Scott's image of him, it would certainly get results.

He was right. And Stiles hated being right. Because results were in the form of Theo appearing at the door, and shoving the two of them outside in the (still pouring) rain before closing it, but not before Stiles caught an image of Scott and Liam arguing. Stiles realized that Theo, the bastard, had been listening to the whole exchange, probably with a smile on his face.

Theo crossed his arms defensively. "He doesn't want to talk to you."

It took all of Stiles' self control to not hurtle himself at Theo. That would accomplish nothing. "No duh." he said instead. "Luckily, I also want to talk to you."

Theo's serious face grew worried. He hadn't been expecting that. "What do you want?" he asked with trepidation.

"I want to talk out of range of my alpha." Stiles said with as little sarcasm as he could muster. Briefly, he checked what weapons he had in his pockets. It was enough. "Or will you get separation anxiety?"

Theo considered this, weighing his concerns for Scott against his piqued curiosity. Eventually, his curiosity won, just like Stiles knew it would, and he gestured for Stiles to lead the way. Stiles, without another word, turned on his heel and began walking towards the jeep, Theo trailing eagerly behind him. Once they drove to the nearby preserve, the pair exited with the jeep lights still on, and Stiles turned abruptly back towards Theo.

"Can you hear Scott?" he asked. "Or Liam, or Hayden?" Theo shook his head no. "Good." Stiles said. Then he punched Theo in the nose. Hard.

Theo stumbled back, more in surprise rather than actual pain, and he clutched his bleeding nose with a look of confusion. It would have been funny if Stiles hadn't felt torn in a million pieces.

"What was that for?" Theo asked angrily.

"What do you think!" Stiles snapped. "You told Scott!"

Theo no longer looked confused. His face morphed into an expression of defensive innocence. "I just told Scott what he needed to know." he said, raising his arms defensively. "The secrets were destroying you!"

"Oh really?" Stiles snarled. Like Theo actually had the audacity to lie to his face now? "So I suppose that's why you told Scott I bashed Donovan's head in with a wrench! Because we have to stop keeping secrets."

Now, Theo looked surprised, and Stiles took a victory in knowing it was genuine. "What are you talking about?" Theo demanded, but Stiles wasn't fooled. The werewolf was growing more angry, dropping his carefully crafted demeanor of innocence. "I told Scott the truth!"

"The truth, huh?" Stiles challenged, and he was wading into dangerous territory but damn him if he wasn't going to get it off of his chest. "Then I guess you also told Scott that you've been working with the Dred Doctors!"

"What?" Theo exclaimed. "Stiles! Stop lying! Look, I understand, you're upset, you're confused, but you're lashing out with wild accusations and you have no proof-"

"I guess you're right!" Stiles said, calmer. "Except for the fact that you lied to my dad. You told him that Donovan was impaled on scaffolding, except that you did it, not me."

"I was protecting you!" Theo exclaimed. "It wasn't your fault and it was self defense and I tried to convey that to Scott but-"

"Drop the act, Theo!" Stiles roared, "I know the truth!" He spread his arms wide in a challenge. "No one can hear you over here, so if you want to get your sick game off of your chest, do it NOW!"

He hadn't expected Theo to take the bait quite yet. He thought Theo would need to be more riled up, more 'fake-angry' with all of the accusations before he got tired of the act. But Stiles supposed that if there was one thing that was true, an artist always wanted their work to be admired. And Theo had certainly mastered the art of lying.

Theo's angry face dropped to a slow, slythering smirk, and Stiles knew the facade had been dropped. It was time to implement one of his own.

"You're right." Theo said, taking a step forward, his anger replaced by smugness. Stiles took a reflexive step back, looking suddenly offput at the change in behavior. "No one can hear us over here. Which means they can't hear you scream."

"What are you going to do, kill me?" Stiles asked, his voice shaking slightly. Where is my Oscar? "Now that I know the truth about you and the doctors?"

"You don't know everything." Theo murmured. Another step. He was cornering his prey.

"No?" Stiles mused. "Enlighten me."

Again, Stiles hadn't expected Theo to take the bait. But apparently the werewolf had been dying for a monologue.

"I came for a pack." he said. And yeah, Stiles had already known that. He told Theo as much. "No, you don't understand." Theo said. "I came here to form my own pack. Not join yours!"

Oh.

Crap.

Apparently, Stiles had underestimated Theo three times. Because he didn't expect Theo to be so open (kinda) about his intentions. Because Stiles had brushed aside that reason as being too obvious, when really Theo had been hiding his intentions in plain sight.

And Stiles wasn't expecting this.

"I thought you came back for Scott." Stiles said rather lamely, his fake-scared persona fueled with genuine worry.

Theo laughed, cold and cruel, taking delight in Stiles' fear. "No," he said, backing Stiles into a literal corner against the jeep, "I came for the werecoyote. I came for the banshee, the dark kitsune, the beta with anger issues! I came for void Stiles! That's the pack I want! And it doesn't include Scott."

What?

"A true alpha." Stiles mused, struggling to wrap his head around Theo's obvious power craving, "one of the rarest supernatural occurrences ever, and you come for the rest of them?" Because he couldn't bear to include himself with the supernaturals. He'd get to the 'void Stiles' thing in a minute. "They're a bunch of half-dead, out of control reject teenagers, and you come back for them?" Theo was boxing him in so Stiles shoved him, only the werewolf wouldn't budge. Instead, he grabbed Stiles' sweatshirt and shoved him harshly against the jeep, rattling his bones.

"Not just them, Stiles." Theo hissed.

"I don't care!" Stiles yelled, because Theo's endgame was much worse than he thought. "You're going to kill Scott! And what? Replace him? Do you really think they'll follow you? Do you really think they'll live up to your sick expectations when you kill the one thing holding all of us together?"

"No." Theo said, still holding Stiles threateningly off of the ground. "Because I don't think it's Scott holding them all together. I think it's you."

Stiles laughed hysterically. "Oh really? And how did you come to this conclusion?"

"I'm observant." Theo said with a harsh smile.

"That you are." Stiles commented, suddenly having enough of the situation. "You were probably listening to Scott and I's entire fight outside of the clinic, weren't you? Well did anything seem odd?"

Theo began to think, and a small frown crossed his face.

"Well?" Stiles prompted.

"New Orleans." Theo said, suddenly unsure of himself. "And some people called Alexander and Katherine."

"I killed them." Stiles said coldly, and Theo recoiled, dropping Stiles back on the ground. "And not when I was the nogitsune, either. No, I killed Katherine in the heat of an ugly battle, and I shot Alexander in the head in front of the entire pack." And this time it was Stiles who took a step forward, and Theo who took a step back. "Because Katherine was a vampire and Alexander was a demon. Donovan wasn't the first life I've taken, Theo. He's one among several."

"What?" Theo asked. "Vampires? Demons?"

Stiles tsked, taking another step. "You should have done your research, Theo." he drawled. "See a nogitsune feeds off of chaos and destruction, but me? I kill because I want to. I hunt because I want to."

"That's void Stiles!" Theo exclaimed, but he didn't seem so sure. He looked worried.

"No." Stiles said simply, and damn him if he wasn't enjoying making Theo squirm. "You're too late for that. You found something much worse." Slowly, he reached for the wrench that was hidden in his sleeve.

"You're a hunter." Theo stated, eyes wide, a thin layer of panic evident in his voice.

"I'm a Winchester." Stiles snarled. "I don't expect you to know what that means. But if you came looking for me devoid of emotion, then you, my friend, should have known better. You should have done your research, Theo. You should have known not to trust a fox. Cause we'll fool you. We'll fool everyone."

Theo only had time to look absolutely terrified before Stiles hit him in the head with his wrench, knocking him out cold.