Scott usually likes to think he's done it all, sort of a jack-of-all-trades for werewolves. Fight people way stronger than him? Check. Ride a cool bike? Check. Keep everyone from killing each other? Eh….most of the time. Crazy alphas? Zero out of ten, not done with that loco train. Have really awesome friends and mom? Check.

Okay, maybe not that last one.

Honestly, no matter how gung-ho and absolutely great his friends and family are, he sometimes wishes they could stay home and stay out of trouble. Maybe if they were less awesome they would've let him deal with his furry problem on his own, and not be in constant danger. Maybe they could even do something productive, like marathon Glee.

Or, you know, not die.

But it looks like he can't avoid that, either, so now they're even.

Mom. You're doing this for mom. Someone worth dying for, someone who has cared for you since day one, one of the best people on this planet. Someone who might even do your cross-country laundry when you get home.

Scott smirks for a nanosecond, momentarily distracted from his motivational persuasion.

Yeah, right.

He glances around, gulping in the view like a man starving in the desert. The boy memorizes every nook and cranny of the drab room, committing it all to memory. Every piece is important, every shadow essential to the final puzzle.

Every moment of life crucial before he goes under.

Snap. Stiles's eyebrows are drawn together by lines that seem to have permanently taken residence there the last couple of months. Allison has her head held high. Both have fear and determination warring in their eyes as they contemplate the jump—they better come back they will come back I'm sorry I couldn't have protected you guys and Papa Stilinksi and Mr. Argent I'm so sorry for everything—

Snap. The three tubs sit drifting in the middle of the space, the dreary light above casting them like a torture instrument.

Snap. Isaac, Lydia, and Deaton all look faintly sick, but determined to carry out their part for their friends' sakes.

Snap. The tin trap is getting closer, closer, and the watch in his hand is still ticking down every second

Snap. His muscles sigh and then scream when he lowers himself into the water

Snap "By the way," Stiles's voice breaks him out of his reverie. "If I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad's in town."

Cue shock. Another thing to deal with.

Stiles quickly turned back around after sharing a serious look with Scott. He was obviously unwilling to see if his brother's mixture of shock would give way to hurt or anger, things that already seemed to follow them.

So Stiles didn't see when Scott gave a short nod, accepting his dad's presence as another weight to take on his shoulders. After all, what was one parent in comparison to a bunch of bloodthirsty, sterioded-out-the-wazoo werewolves?

"A lot," a voice whispers inside his head, the same one that's been beating him over and over again with his ineptitudes and shortcomings, "and you know it."

No. What he does know is that he trusts Deaton, this whole dying-in-place-shtick will work, he still hasn't finished his science project that's due next week, and his mom will slap him silly when she finds out that he hasn't been doing his laundry. That's what he knows, and that's what he's sticking to. The only way he can stay positive and not give in is to focus on one crisis at a time, and try to stick to his morals. Even if his values are getting him into so much more trouble than he would ever be in if he just gave up. Even if that in not killing his problems (literally) he's paving way for more strife.

Sometimes Scott wishes that he could just back out and move somewhere far, far, away, and never have to worry about anything ever again.

But Scott knows that if he ever buckles, and gives in to the bullies around him, he will only make other's situations worse. He will cause the people responsible to run rampant and unchecked and more innocents will suffer.

That's not what being Scott is about. Being Scott is holding people together and keeping shit from falling apart.

He is bound to this town and its people with both hands and feet. This is his duty, and he will complete it and do his best until he's six feet under.

Scott stares dead ahead, shivering, jaw clacking, dying, thinking of everyone else.

It doesn't matter it doesn't matter you will stop Jennifer and get everyone back he tries to convince himself when his healing body can no longer regenerate and the thump thump thump as his heart is spiking than falling asleep. You will save they will live his mind is screaming now, when he can longer feel his body except in stabs of pain.

Snap.

Deaton's hands guide him under, and then all the urgency and determination Scott was feeling gently floats out of his body. Suddenly, everything is in shades of blue and grey and sluggish and when he finally sucks in a breath all that's there is

peace.

Scott McCall is dead.

The wolf inside him, however, isn't.

Oh, no. Not by a long shot.

The wolf inside him is smiling, teeth glinting like broken glass.

(I am not dead)-

Eyes the color of blood fly open, body seizing as if it was jolted by an electric shock.

(I am not)-

AN: It's dooooooone! *rips hair out in exultation* I kinda crammed this one to publish it before tonight's episode, where clearly everything that I wrote here about Scott turning into an alpha so quickly will be wrong. However, I've always thought as Scott as the hero, the pragmatist, the one most likely to take in an injured villain and nurse him/her back to health with love and sunshine. Therefore, I wanted to try and convey this through the chapter. But, again, if anyone feels anything about Scott's time to shine (Love! Hate! The overwhelming desire to eat a burrito!) drop a review and let me know.