Summary: Not really a tag to any episode. Set during a generic fight between our favorite pack and the bad guy(s) of the week. Early or mid-season three. Since I'm not an expert in all things supernatural, I will make some stuff up, but I'll try to stay as true to the show and to common sense as possible :) Oh, and by the way, I've always been a Scallison and Stydia type of girl. Sorry if that's not your thing, but I see it as cannon!

They were late. Scott had had a plan and it all hinged on them being there and they were late. By some cruel twist of fate, a tree had fallen, blocking the road. By the time they arrived at the old warehouse, the fight was over. Stiles, Lydia, Allison, and Derek jumped out of the Jeep into something from a nightmare. Blood was splattered across the walls in wide arcs and pools of gathered on the cement floor. Allison held her bow at the ready, arms tensed.

"Derek, can you get his scent? Is he still here?" Stiles whispered, gripping his bat tighter. Derek closed his eyes, trying to get a lock on Scott's scent.

"All I smell is blood." They continued to creep quietly through the warehouse, searching for some sign of-

"SCOTT!" Lydia screamed. The others followed her gaze to the crumpled form in the corner. Allison dropped her bow and raced toward him. Her shaking fingers found his neck and she pressed them into his throat.

"C'mon, Scott. Please don't be dead." She muttered softly. Stiles was now on Scott's other side, gently slapping his cheeks in an attempt to rouse him.

"Scott? Hey, can you hear me, Scotty?"

"I've got a pulse! He's alive!" Allison cried, nearly sobbing with relief. Derek was carefully lifting the tattered remains of Scott's shirt to reveal his torso. They all gasped when they saw the deep, ragged gashes torn into the flesh. Blood still oozed from them, adding to the growing pool beneath Scott's body.

"What's wrong with him? Why isn't he healing?" Lydia asked, her voice shaking. She held one of Scott's hands between both of hers. He was as pale as death and cold to the touch.

"They're from an Alpha. They'll take a lot longer to heal." Derek said worriedly. "He's losing too much blood. We need to stop the bleeding." Without a word, Stiles pulled off the flannel he'd been wearing over his t-shirt and pressed it into the wounds. At this, Scott let a pained whimper.

"Scott, you with us buddy?" Stiles asked. Scott didn't respond. His breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps and his eyes were shut tight with agony.

"Can't you do something?" Allison demanded, brown eyes boring into Derek. Derek's hands were already gripping Scott's forearms. Thick black lines traced their way up Derek's arms as he took the pain into his own body. Immediately, it threatened to overwhelm him. He felt his muscles tense and he let out a low groan that bordered on a growl.

"Derek?" Lydia asked, her voice scared and tentative.

"I'm fine." He gasped. "Stiles, just keep the pressure." Stiles nodded. The harsh lines of pain on Scott's face had begun to ease and he was breathing easier. After a couple minutes, Derek was forced to release his hold on Scott's arm. He collapsed back into the wall, exhausted and panting.

"No…don't…" A whisper, so soft they almost missed it, drew their attention back to the boy on the floor.

"Scott, can you hear us?" Lydia asked softly as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Please…stop…don't hurt them…" Scott whispered again. His eyes were still closed, but he was stirring restlessly.

"Hurt who, Scott? Everyone's safe." Allison assured him.

"Hey, wherever you are," Stiles said, putting his hands on either side of Scott's face, "it's not real, okay? It's over. We've got you. Just open your eyes." Slowly, Scott stopped struggling. His eyes fluttered open halfway.

"Hey." He whispered hoarsely. Stiles let out a relieved laugh.

"That's it? You scare us half to death and all you have to say is 'hey'?" he asked in mock incredulity. Noticing that Scott was still bleeding, he put his hands back on the shirt covering his friend's wounds. Scott winced and took in a sharp breath.

"You alright?" Derek asked softly.

"Yeah. Just hurts."

"Here, let me-" Derek began, but Scott cut him off.

"No. Don't take anymore." Derek could see in Scott's eyes that he hated to cause him pain.

"Guys, he's still bleeding." Allison interjected. They could all see the blood soaking the shirt beneath Stiles' hands and the slowly growing pool around them.

"S'not that bad." Scott slurred, eyes closing again. He coughed and red flecks dotted his bloodless lips.

"Hey, eyes open, Scott. C'mon." Stiles pleaded. When Scott didn't respond, Stiles turned to the others. "He's not healing fast enough. We need to get him to Deaton." Without another word, Derek lifted Scott gently into his arms and ran to the Jeep. He and Stiles took the backseat with Scott while Allison took the passenger seat and Lydia drove. In the three minutes it took to get to the animal clinic, Scott's condition had deteriorated even further. Painful bouts of coughing brought up blood that threatened to choke him until Derek and Stiles turned him on his side.

"Just a little further, Scott." Derek promised. "Stay with us."

Deaton was waiting for them in the exam room. Derek laid Scott gently on the table and instantly Deaton's experienced fingers were probing the wounds. Scott didn't so much as flinch. It took an hour and all of Deaton's considerable knowledge and skill to finally get him stabilized. By that time, they were all exhausted.

"You should all go home and get some rest. He'll be out for hours yet." Deaton suggested, making no move to leave himself. The others said nothing. They were all to fixated on the young man on the exam table.

"He's cold." Allison said quietly, taking off her coat and draping it over him. Derek was the first to leave the room, but he came back a moment later, dragging the chairs from the waiting room with him. No one said a word as they arranged the chairs around the bed and settled in for the long night ahead.

Totally meant to post this sooner!