It's night. The rain keeps falling, heavily hitting the ground, smashing on the glass panel of the window, on the walls of the houses, against the hard concrete of the street, and the cars that don't fit in the garages and are left under the stars. Which are nowhere in sight, in nights like this one.

The rain is so noisy. It's unbelievably loud. It hits every surface like an angry woodpecker, no, like thousands of angry woodpeckers.

He used to fear rainstorms. Thunders, bolts. Now there is only rain, the water pouring down the sky. He'd get so soaked, was he in the open right now.

There's also the wind, whistling, sneaking inside every tiny hole, split, or crack.

The noise is so much, that he can't just focus on the light breathing of his mom coming from the other room, like he usually does to try and get back to sleep at the relaxing sound. He can't focus on the dark shade of his room, like he did when he was younger, because there has been no more darkness since the bite. He was granted with a very cool nocturnal vision, which he usually adores, except in this circumstances. He can't focus on his own breathing, because the noise from the storm is too much even for that.

His breathing is calm. It hasn't gone wild since the time he was bitten, the night the crazy alpha version of Peter bit him.

Man, wasn't that painful.

Man, wasn't it just the starting of painful experiences.

He had to get used to pain since the transformation. Apparently, you can't be a werewolf and expect not having to endure torture and pain. Nice, isn't it?

Well, at least, his breathing hasn't gone mad since that night. Yes, it has fastened a little, when he was coping with his first full moons, but now he's all right. He hasn't had an asthma attack since a very long time, so much that now he actually wonders how does it feel to have one. It's like his body does not remember. In a certain way, his body was born again, that night he was bitten, so, his body really doesn't remember how was going under an asthma attack. His new body has no experience of it, thus no recollection. His old one, well, that did have both.

Scott twists the bedsheets again for the hundredth time now. He turns on his other side, than again lies on his back, crosses his ankles, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He really can't sleep this night. Which is pretty odd, because there is no apparent reason for him not to, considered that he has managed a few hours of sleep even in the worst, most anxious hours during the past years disasters. Not that he needs more than those, being a supernatural creature, but a few hours still feel nice.

Isn't that weird, that, at times like this, when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he doesn't know what's happening, everything becoming confused, reality mixing with dreams, memories and fantasies. In times like this he marvels that he's still alive, after all the crazy stuff he has been through, he, and his friends, human or not.

He winces and closes his eyes, not wanting to cry again. Not wanting to remember, but not wanting to forget. Because it doesn't feel right, or fair, towards her, and because he is so fond of her memories.

He doesn't want to forget her: he thinks he never will, and never will be able to. He compares Kira to her, sometimes. Which is very cruel, both to Kira and to Allison's memory. What's wrong with him?

He was still in love with Allison, when she left him. He was still in love with her when Isaac started dating her. And he was still so much in love with her, in the very moment when she exhaled her last breath in his arms.

Not longer than a year before.

She had been so warm, and yet her clothed body gradually had gradually lost its precious warmth. She got colder and colder, and he couldn't do anything to hold it back. He had been squeezing her in his arms, holding her closer, tighter to his chest, like in a desperate attempt to warm her up again with his own body, but it didn't work. She had started fading, her scent weaker and weaker, the blood staining her hands and his, tainting her scent.

She had slipped away, like water between his fingers, and died. And he couldn't do anything.

Avenging her had felt so right at the moment, and yet the warmth that it gave him wasn't the warmth of Allison's body. It didn't help warming her cold body, nor has it brought her back. He hasn't seen her walking, hasn't heard her soft voice talking, and soon vengeance has lost its meaning. What was the point in avenging a loss, if you couldn't have back what you lost in the first place?

He hadn't wanted revenge, he had wanted Allison back.

Stiles felt pretty bad too. Scott will never blame him. It wasn't him, he knows, he's sure, and yet Stiles, being Stiles, the Stiles that doubts of everything, he didn't spare himself from mourning and blaming her death on himself. Scott knew, Lydia knew, Allison's father himself, as well as Derek, Isaac, even Peter. Everyone knew, and still knows it wasn't Stiles. But Stiles felt as bad as Scott for Allison's death. He still thinks her blood is staining his hands, his soul, leaving it scarred forever. Like a bite, but one that doesn't give you any special power, just an incredible burden.

A tear slides down his cheek, digging its way on the skin, reaching his ear. He opens his eyes, bat his lashes, closes them again.

Allison. He really misses her.

He really likes being with Kira, and feels guilty, because he has survived her, and now he has to cast aside her memory. He can't close the world off, and dedicate his life to mourn on her death. Which, by the way, maybe is something that he's blaming on Isaac, and thinks that leaving them just to seclude himself from the world to grieve on Allison's loss forever, was more a betrayal that something he must understand.

But, blaming Isaac for refusing to go on and wanting to escape and restart, that's not fair. After all, Isaac has lost much more than a girlfriend, and he is the one left with no family. He had a pack, sure, but, for some reasons, that wasn't enough to prevent him from leaving.

Scott still hopes he'll come back, one day. The tall, dark blonde boy definitely won't be a beta like Liam, but Isaac is still a friend. Liam is special, after all, and Scott knows it is hardly fair to campare the two: there is something pulling him to Liam, probably because Liam really is Scott's own creation. Still, Isaac is a friend, he's pack, and he deserves his alpha's protection. Scott's protection.

Scott feels horrible for having to cast aside Allison's memory. For havinhg to set her memory aside and go on living. He is torn between honoring her memory, and keep on living. He's not being honest with Kira either, when he can't but compare her to his previous love. He can't let go of the bad past, and give Kira the love she deserves. He can't even tell her what is going on in his mind, in his heart.

Nor can he speak freely, sharing his worries. He can't tell her what he is feeling for Liam. The terrible fear that he feels of losing Liam like he lost Allison, blood on his hands and a body cold in his arms. Just like that nightmare he had so many time ago, when he thought he'd kill Liam with his own hands.

Liam. His Liam, his creation, his beta. The first one he has ever made.

His responsibility, his puppy.

He definitely doesn't want to lose anyone else.

Thinking he was going to lose Derek was bad enough. Every time someone risks their life, Scott smells Allison's blood on his hands, and starts panicking someone is going to die, and he won't be able to do anything, but losing them.

He knows, rationally, that things aren't that bad. He kinows that this insane worry he feels about Liam's safety, or anyone else from the pack, it's all due to him still having to cope with Allison's death. He is still mourning, in some kind of way, and still needs time. His pack's affection, love and dedication will not make the pain go away, but it can help him to find the strenght to live again. Maybe not as carefree as he used to live before, but a good life anyway.

He is laying down on his bed, trying to make the memories of Allison dying in his arms go away. He's trying not to cry and weep and scream again, trying to let his mother sleep a good night sleep, once in a while, when she can afford it. He doesn't want to worry her, or let her know that her only son is crying his eyes out in the middle of the night, just a room away from hers. He really wishes the tears away, but doesn't manage to make them disappear, so he gets up. He throws the sheets aside, and restlessly reaches for the windowsill. He lingers, with his arms stretched out in front of him, fingers wide open, staring outside, the night.

The sky is almost black, the wind shuffling against the glass of the window.

He thinks of Liam, his only beta, sleeping, or so he hopes, in the safety of his house, in his bed, clean sheets folded around his body, fresh and clean and peachy. Like it is supposed to be. His beta is so young: he's barely sixteen, and yet he's so strong.

Scott manages a small smile: Derek was so right, Liam is really a strong boy. Not only in the werewolf sense of the term. He's sixteen, and was already the best lacrosse player that Beacon Hills has every seen, even before the bite. Now, he's simply unstoppable. Scott has made a secret, silent vow with Stiles to protect his beta, their first beta, because, when it comes to Scott's pack, Stiles is as much of an alpha almost as Scott is. Stiles is like a part of Scott himself, and so Liam is Scott's only beta, but somewhat Stiles' too.

The wave of possessiveness that fills his chest, while he thinks that he and Stiles share the young wolf, Scott knows it is just a metaphor from his inner wolf, one that his wolf uses to assess and defends his territory, and that, from his wolf's point of view, Liam actually is his. Only his.

He shrugs his shoulders, and tries going back to bad, sitting down and then laying on his back. He grabs his phone, and checks the chat group of the pack, and there, there it is, Liam's message. Scott smiles, reading Liam's text, Liam asking if anyone is awake, whining that he can't sleep because of the noise of the storm, damned werewolf super-hearing.

Scott texts back, asks him if he wants company.

Uhm. That sounded a bit wrong, he thinks, but Liam's typing back. He says yes.

Uhm. That still sounds wrong. But, it's Liam, it's his beta, and that entails a whole new set of measurements for what is wrong or not.

He leaves the pack chat and opens one between only Liam and himself. He asks him if he wants him to go his place. The way his chest fills of something that even he himself does not know how to name when Liam texts back, saying yes…

Scott's inner wolf is so pleased with that answer, that his mind starts picturing Liam in his bed, pale young body rolling over, his blonde head moving to bare his throat, offering it to his alpha...

"Oh My God!" he panicks: "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

Scott blushes, furiously trying to think why his wolf would think of his only beta in such a.. an almost sexual way. He wishes that Derek was there. Sure, it would be embarassing as hell, but at least he could try asking, and the man might know. He's asked worse after all, he can endure Derek's smirk and wait for the answer.

Actually, maybe it's better if he really asks him. Or, Deaton. The doctor is almost a father to him, and he's asked very embarassing to him, too, so he could go to his mentor, the morning after, and ask him personally. Yeah, sounds like a plan. In the meantime, though…

Glancing at his phone, he gets up, grabbing a pair of jeans. He puts on his jacket right on his bare torso, and if that attire recalls Derek's, to hell with it. He slips on his shoes, the helmet, fishes his phone in his backpocket. He grabs the keys in one hand and leaves a note for his mum while lifting the window. The note is scribbled down in a hurried way, but his handwriting is not much better, normally, so she shouldn't notice his shaken state of mind.

He lands right beside his dirt bike, and in the next five minutes he's at Liam's place. Parking in his beta's garage, he sees the blond sixteen years old boy waiting for him. Scott gets down the bike, killing the engine, and Liam is hugging him in a second.

Scott's wolf feels like howling. He himself, his human mind, is a bit shocked, and for a second he wonders if the boy is hurt. But he doesn't smell like anything bad has happened to him… Scott's jacket is soaked wet, and Liam is only wearing a tee shirt and boxers, and he's getting drenched by the water soaking Scott's jacket. The blonde boy's face is shocked, his eyes are red, like he had being crying, but still, Scott can't figure out why. He doesn't smell like anything bad, still.

Scott feels like swearing. Fuck! Nothing in the world can do this to Scott's beta, and he needs to make him feel better, soon. He doesn't hesitate, hugging Liam back. He holds him close to his body.

Liam sighs, his forehead on Scott's shoulder, and Scott takes off his helmet, lowers it on his bike, and hugs Liam with two arms. After a few minuets, Liam's shirt is as wet as Scott's jacket, and the alpha disentangles himself from the hug to lift his beta's face, with a finger under his chin: -Hey you, what's happened?-

Liam's expression is the typical one when he feels something really wrong, but can't figure out what it is. Maybe he's a tad like Lydia, and can sense the danger coming, looming over them. Scott definitely doesn't discard the possibility.

-I don't know, I'm sorry. I guess I was afraid something could happen to you under the rain, I'm sorry- Liam's mumbling, cheeks reddening.

Scott smiles, and pats his shoulder:-Come on. I'm fine, but you need to change that shirt. It's all wet now. Hey look, I can see your nipples!- he tries to joke, pinching one bud with his fingers. Liam moves back with a chuckle and leads him upstairs.

Blushing. Scott notices it, and wonders if Liam's feeling a bit odd around him, like Scott' feeling around Liam. That could be, right? It would make much more sense, if he was and it was all due to the wolves, his and Liam's.

Liam walks a step before him, leading him on the stairs and in his bedroom, walking silently. They take off the wet clothes and slips under the covers of Liam's bed, in their boxers only, Liam instinctively spooning against Scott's chest, and it's incredible how perfectly he fits there. Scott hugs him with his free arm, and whispers him it's all right, they're all safe, and Liam doesn't need to worry. They set an alarm very early, not to be caught like this by Liam's parents and having them misunderstand everything, and close their eyes. Liam mumbles a bit that he's having only nightmares recently, involving pack members' death. Scott frowns upon that, and decides he's speaking with Lydia about it in the morning, but then starts again whispering it's all right.

His beta is asleep in a few minutes, and he falls asleep as well, at his beta's soft breathing sound.

Scott's hottest thing is the tattoo on his arm. And, funny how S3 started with him getting a tattoo, and S5 with the seniors signing ceremony,