Scott felt the heavy weight of the Sheriff's hand on his shoulder. He didn't want to admit it but it was comforting. At least he had Uncle John with him because he was feeling totally out of place right now. He just wanted to get the hell out of there. Scott really, really, really did not want to do this, did not want to be here with the rest of these people. Especially Allison's Mom who had tried to kill him!
He had been sure that he didn't need an Alpha, it was bullshit, especially after what Dr Deaton had told him in confidence about being a true Alpha.

But he knew he didn't have a choice. He had made the decision to come clean to the Sheriff after his shitty behaviour to Stiles. He knew he was in over his head. Stiles had been hurt and he didn't even know. For a shameful time he had been so caught up in the plan that he had actually forgotten about his brother from another mother. Stiles had always been there for him and he was even the one who worked out what Scott had turned into. He had taught him control, had tried to help him in every way possible and Scott had been a complete dick about it.

Uncle John had been really blunt about everything that had happened and everyone involved.
He had made Scott feel like he was a silly little kid again who had been naughty and stupid and selfish and he had even made him cry. But Uncle John had held him tight when he did, one of those great Stilinski hugs that could warm a body right down to their bone marrow and he had told Scott that he wasn't to worry any more.
That he was going to deal with everything including Dr Deaton. Scott had been horrified when the Sheriff, and it was Uncle John's official voice, (he and Stiles knew the difference after their many escapades) so it was the Sheriff speaking to him, who told him that Dr Deaton had been grooming him. That the man wasn't to be trusted with his safety or wellbeing.

Scott had spluttered in red-faced embarrassed denial, the man had never touched him like that, never. This was worse than the time that Uncle John had given both he and Stiles the "bad touch, stranger danger" talk with the sock puppets when they were little.

The look of pity in the Sheriff's eyes had rage flaring up but before he could lose his temper the Sheriff had continued calmly. "I didn't say he had Son, I am not talking about sex, but a different kind of predator. The man was manipulating you for his own purposes, isolating you from your friends and family, encouraging your belief in him whilst disparaging others who could help you. Complimenting you, convincing you to do his bidding by appealing to your need to be popular, to be the best. Making you believe that his ideas were your ideas."

The words hit him like a sledge hammer but Scott was shaking his head in stubborn denial until the Sheriff took his face in his hands and made him look him in the eye.
"Scott Rafael McCall, Alan Deaton is a middle aged extremely clever man who has dealt with the Supernatural all of his life, who deliberately reneged on his duty as Emissary to the remaining Hale pack and you were an innocent oblivious high school kid who was bitten one dark night by a terrifying creature and turned into one yourself. Who do you think has the power in that relationship?"

Before Scott could finish shaking his head, his eyes wide and horrified, the Sheriff bluntly mentioned Peter Hale and his lengthy coma. Did Scott seriously think the Werewolf wouldn't have recovered sooner and indeed saner if the Hale Emissary had done his job to protect and safeguard him as a pack member? Laura and Derek had been terrified kids when they ran, but Deaton had been the only surviving unharmed Adult member of the Hale Pack. Where had he been during the fire and why hadn't he protected the pitiful survivors?
Scott's eyes had become blurry. Would this nightmare ever end? He had trusted Deaton when he couldn't trust anyone else, not even Stiles. Then his brain brought back all the conversations where Deaton had inferred that it was Stiles's fault he had been out in the woods, that Stiles was a weak human, that Stiles couldn't handle the world of the Supernatural, even hinted that Stiles couldn't be trusted, that no one except Dr Deaton could be trusted.

The Vet had even given him more hours at the clinic, more pay to take home to his Mom whilst he murmured about what a rare honour a true Alpha was to a pack. That Derek Hale was born to be a Beta not an Alpha and he couldn't handle it.

Fuck, Deaton had played him better than that dick Jackson played lacrosse. And it hurt damn it, he had trusted the man. He had kinda felt smug when Deaton had played the mysterious cryptic for everyone else but had given him the time and attention that made him feel special.

Then other memories leapt into his brain and he felt sick. Deaton had encouraged the relationship with Allison, he had seemed almost determined that they would be together. Even while he plotted with Scott to get rid of Gerard, telling him not to trust the Argents either.
The Sheriff had managed to get that piece of information out of him as well, and his eyes had narrowed like he was sighting a gun. The expression on his face was one Scott had never seen before and truthfully could go the rest of his life without ever seeing again if given the choice.
It made the creature inside him want to curl up and whimper. In fact he might actually have whimpered because the Sheriff's eyes warmed up and he was suddenly Uncle John again as he ruffled his hair teasingly.
Uncle John had told him that he was not going to be working at the Vet clinic anymore and despite the relief he started to object out of panic because he needed that money. He had promised his Mom he would pay off the bike himself and any left over money went into the housekeeping jar. He knew he was eating much more now his metabolism was not just coping with a teenage boy but a wolf too.
Before he could utter a word, Uncle John smirked at him, "Young man you just got yourself a part time job at the station, cleaning out the K9 kennels and looking after the dogs. Once you have done that you can help Stiles with the filing. Right now, I am keeping you both where I can see you."
Scott still protested, "But what about the sick animals Uncle John, they still need to be cared for" The Sheriff smiled fondly at the boy but his eyes were full of wicked amusement as he drawled.

"Don't you worry about that Scott, I have the perfect candidate to fill that vacancy. As Derek does not appear to have any gainful employment at this moment, then I am sure a stint at the Clinic will help with his future job prospects and Dr Deaton can get to know his Alpha better while explain to him why he utterly failed in his duty as an Emissary."

Scott blinked back to the present in the large room full of misfit werewolves who were looking at each other mistrustfully whilst Mrs Argent was openly sneering at them all.
Maybe he could try the puppy eyes trick on Uncle John to let him skip this so called lesson, it had a fifty percent chance of working when he and Stiles pulled it together on the guy but before he could the Alpha made his entrance into the room.
Scott stared at the sideburns, the fangs and the flashing red eyes. His heart began to race with anticipation. His own eyes began to flash in response and all thoughts of leaving disappeared into the ether.
This didn't look like the kind of lesson where he would need to take notes, and just maybe he could get in a few lucky punches. He would be quite happy to take a swing at Derek for being an angsty douchebag or his murderous future Mother in law.