"Wh-what?" Scott practically whispered from beside me. We were sitting on his bed facing the door. Having the talk. No not the sex talk. Get your mind out of the gutter, gosh.

"I have-" I started but my best friend cut me off. He shot up off the bed and finally faced me. Eyes wide and waving hands.

"Don't say it again!" it didn't come out angry sounding. It was more of a shocked/worried shout. He ran his hands through his hair and for a minute I thought he was going to wolf out and rip the hair right out of his head, but he didn't. He moved his hands from the top of his head to run them down his face, he sighed. He sat down again, but instead of sitting next to me he sat at his desk. Distance. "I can't," he choked on the words, swallowing hard. "I can't hear it. Not again, Stiles." he bowed his head and put his hands back in his hair.

"Do you want it?" I knew that he would ask at some point. He's Scott. He'd do anything to save me from... dying. I sighed.

"You already know the answer, Scott." Scott slammed his fist on his desk, denting it.

"But why, Stiles?! It could save you!"

"It could also kill me, Scott! Usually it's a 50/50 chance of survival, but with me already begin sick? It more than likely lowers my chances to 25%. And when have you ever known me to be a quitter? I wanna fight."

"But what if you're not strong enough?" I looked at my best friend, shocked.

"Oh ye of little faith."

"Did you just quote the bible at me?" he smirked, raising his eyebrows.

"Did you just doubt my ability to beat this?" the smile fell from his face and he looked serious again.

"I have no doubt that you can beat this. I just... I just can't stand to see you suffer. I-I've seen what chemo and radiation does to people. The side effects. I can't watch you go through that." I laid back on the bed, with my legs still hanging off the bed.

"Okay, first; we don't even know what kind of treatment I'm doing. They said that once I go in for the biopsy they'll be able to tell if they can just take it out. And if they can't then... we'll go from there." Scott stayed where he was. A look of defeat that I had never seen before was clear on his face.

"I can't... Stiles, you're my best friend. I can't just sit here and watch you die." His eyes teared up and I forced half my face to go up into a smirk.

"Common, Scott. When have you ever known me to give up with out a fight? Nah, man. This'll be hard sure. But so was getting the Nogitsune out of me, right? Pretty much the same thing." Scott's eyes widened.

"How in the holy hell is that the same thing!?" my face fell blank.

"I don't know. Dude, that sounded better in my head." I rubbed a clammy palm against my thigh clad jeans. "I don't know bro. I mean... It'll be a fight. But, I'm not going to let my last breath I take be due to me getting the bite because I was too much of a coward to fight this-" I made jerky motions to where my stomach was, "thing growing inside of me."

"It would make you a coward, Stiles. It would mean that you had a will to live. Can't you have that will?"

"Scott-"

"Just, promise me you'll think about it? Please, Stiles?"

"Okay."

After a wild game of COD, Scott left, with the promise of a returning visit the next day. Hugging me too tightly for too long, Scott finally left. Alone. Finally. Derek or my dad are constantly by my side. Not that I don't appreciate the concern. But it's nice to just have a few moments to myself. I shut the door behind him and watched from the window as he got on his bike and made his was back to his house. It was well past dinner time by the time I made my way into the kitchen to look for something the least bit appealing. After going through all the cabinets and the fridge and finding nothing that I thought appetizing I decided against eating.

I finished putting the rest of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and made to run it. When I moved the dish detergent I found my fathers hidden bottle of bourbon. I started the dishwasher and made to leave the room before pausing. What could it hurt? It could hurt a lot, a voice told me. But I ignored it and grabbed the bottle before making my way into my room.

The bottle was about half gone when I had gotten my hands on it and there was only a couple ounces when I was finished. I was laying on my bed facing the wall, almost asleep, when I heard the sound of my window being slid open. In fear that it was some unknown creature coming to end my life, I slid my hand between my bed and the wall and felt for the cool metal handle of my trusty bat. When I felt the bed dip behind me I swung around, swinging the bat through the air till it hit something solid.

"Ow! Dammit, Stiles!" someone yelled. The bat was suddenly ripped from my grasp and the light was thrown on. I flung my arm over my eyes to block out the light when I heard a loaded sigh. "Really, Stiles?" I laid back and blinked several times up at Derek. He had a blank look on his face. But I could tell that he was hiding an emotion behind it. Probably anger.

"Why would you do this to yourself, in your condition, Stiles? You can't be doing this kind of crap anymore. You have to take care of yourself!" he go up from my bed with a roar and threw the bottle across the room. It smashed against my closet door. "Why would you do this!?" I rolled onto my stomach and sighed.

"I can't do this."

"Do what, Stiles?" he huffed, still sounded angry.

"Die like her." I tried to make it come out clear but I know that it was muffled by my pillow and sounded like a whisper. The harsh look fell from his face and he sat back down next to me. He placed a hand on my back and ran another through my hair.

"Who, Stiles? Who died?"

"My mom," I slurred. "my mom died from stomach cancer too." Derek rolled me half onto my back and pulled me closer to him.

"Listen to me, Stiles. You aren't dead, okay? You aren't dead! You're here. You're here and you're drunk and you're with me."

I shook my head and he grabbed my hand. "No, you're wrong, Derek. I died the moment I was diagnosed." I rolled away from him and felt him pull my blanket up around my shoulders. "I'm already dead."