Hey ya'll! Glad to see all of the new faves and follows. Your reviews always mean the world to me! Feel free to let me know what ya'll are loving and what ya'll are hating and also what you'd like to see next! I love hearing from you. Just a heads up, I will be going on vacation soon, so I won't be able to post for a while :( But no worries! I will update as soon as I can!

Summary: This is a tag to the most recent episode, 5x06 ("Required Reading") so consider this your spoiler warning if you haven't seen it yet! I loved the scene with Scott (finally!) having an asthma attack and I just wanted to expand on it. Also, I felt as though Stiles should have been there instead of Liam. No offense to the little guy, but I love the Scott/Stiles friendship so much.

He couldn't breathe. The thought swirled in the back of Scott's mind without really surfacing as he signed his form to drop the AP class.

"Are you going to tell me why you're dropping?" Mrs. Finch asked. Scott could hear the disappointment in her tone.

"Scheduling thing." He muttered, taking out a pen.

"Why did you take this class to begin with? Isn't it prerequisite for the college you want?"

"It doesn't matter." Scott began. He cleared his throat, noting an uncomfortable tightness as he did so. "It's too much time, too much work."

"To become a veterinarian?" By now, the tightness was beyond uncomfortable. The all too familiar whistle of his breaths through rapidly closing airways resonated in his ears. The pen in his hand began to shake. "Scott, I don't think you should drop." Mrs. Finch said. Scott didn't answer. This couldn't be possible, he thought. He hadn't had one in nearly two years. Ever since the bite…

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. His legs started to shake and he gripped the desk to stay upright. The familiar panic was hitting and his shallow gasps quickened. Without warning, his mind flashed to the image of a bloody leash clutched tightly in a small hand.

"Scott?" Finch's voice was a million miles away. He dropped the pen as he was hit with another image, this time of a gurney being wheeled quickly down the halls of the emergency room. Then he saw dogs. Two of them. Fighting. The bloody leash. The horrible images assaulted him and he was powerless to stop them. He could feel his airways constricting, feel himself getting dizzy.

"Scott? What's happening?" This time, Finch's voice was full of concern. Scott felt himself falling he collapsed onto the corner of the desk.

"I think," he rasped, pausing to draw in a wheezing gulp of air, "I'm having an asthma attack." The pressure in his chest was nearly unbearable. Cold sweat popped out on his forehead.

"Someone! Someone get the nurse!" His breaths were coming so fast now as he tried desperately to take in even a spoonful of air. Then he was falling into blackness.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

When he opened his eyes, he was standing in the hallway of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. It was as if he were standing in a movie, watching the action, but not a part of it. He watched as a young boy, no older than four, was rushed down the hall. In his hand, the boy held tight to a bloody leash. Scott recognized his own mom as she ran alongside the gurney.

"Mom?" The boy asked, his voice full of fear.

"You're okay, sweetheart. You just need to breathe, okay?" His mom assured the boy. Vaguely, Scott wondered why his mother wasn't wearing scrubs. Despite the dream-like quality of the scene, he was still fighting for each breath.

"Where's Roxy?" The boy asked, despite Melissa's instructions.

"Sweetheart, just breathe."

"Where's Roxy?" he asked again.

"Try not to talk." His mother all but begged. Scott fell back against the wall, panting and fighting to stay on his feet. As his mother gently pried the leash out of the boy's hand, Scott realized who the boy was.

"Scott, you need to breathe!" His mother instructed. He clutched his chest, feeling the fear that always accompanied an attack. A moment later, the scene fell away and was replaced with the blurry outline of a classroom.

"Scott? Scott, look at me. I need to know where your inhaler is." Despite her best efforts, the boy collapsed on the floor remained unresponsive. Mrs. Finch had never witnessed an asthma attack before, and she was terrified to say the least. Scott McCall was staring off into nowhere with his eyes as wide as saucers. His pale, clammy skin was ice cold and his lips were rapidly turning blue. Each small breath he took sounded shallow and painful.

"Is it in your locker? Scott?" She tried again. She shook him a little, but it was clear that Scott couldn't answer. "Someone's gotta have an inhaler! One of you, find someone." She shouted to the growing crowd outside of her door. Despite the failure of all of her previous attempts, she continued to shake his shoulders.

"Scott. Scott? Scott, hang on." She pleaded. She could see him fading in front of her. "Stay with me."

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

"Does anyone here have asthma? Anyone got an inhaler?!" A voice shouted down the hall. Stiles glanced up from the books he'd been putting into his locker. Even though Scott hadn't had an asthma attack since their sophomore year, Stiles still felt a jolt of panic. He stopped the guy running down the hall.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"Some guy's having an asthma attack in Finch's room." Stiles felt his heart clench. Scott had planned to go there over his free period to drop the class. Trying to keep a panic attack at bay, Stiles ripped open the front pocket of his backpack and removed a small red inhaler. He'd been carrying it around for a year and a half now, just in case. Silently, he thanked God for his paranoia. Leaving his locker door standing wide open, Stiles sprinted down the hall, praying he wouldn't be too late.

He had to shove through the gawking crowd around the door. The words "Everybody move! I have his inhaler!" didn't seem to have much of an effect on them. Finally, Stiles pushed his way through and slid to a halt next to Scott. Memories stretching all throughout their childhood rushed through his head as he took in the way his friend was slumped against the teacher's desk, staring off into space. He remembered those wheezing breaths and the ER visits that almost always accompanied them. Stiles could instantly tell that this was a bad one. Scott was paler than a corpse and his lips were a definite shade of blue.

"Scott!" Stiles placed the inhaler in Scott's hand. "Scott, come on. You gotta use your inhaler, buddy. Just like old times, okay?" Scott continued stare ahead with impossibly wide eyes. His breaths were getting shallower with every passing second. "Scott! I can't do this for you. You have to use it." Scott didn't acknowledge him, but Stiles saw his fingers twitch around the inhaler as if trying to grasp it.

"Okay," Stiles said, taking Scott's face in his hands, "Scott, listen to me. You're going to die if you don't use your inhaler. Think of all of the people depending on you. Are you really gonna leave us to fend for ourselves?" Stiles knew it was a low blow, but at this point he'd try anything. To his relief, Scott's eyes found his and he began to move. His gasps became more urgent as he struggled to raise the inhaler to his mouth.

"Here, I got it. Breathe when I say, okay?" Stiles said, placing the device into his friend's mouth. "One…two…three…breathe!" Stiles pressed the button and Scott took a shuddering breath. "Good, again. One...two…three…breathe." They repeated the process once more. By then, Stiles could see the medicine taking effect.

"Is he alright?" Finch asked, noting how the blue tint was beginning to disappear from Scott's lips. "Do I need to call an ambulance?" Scott was only semi-conscious, leaning against Stiles chest. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.

"No…no he'll be okay. His mom's a nurse. I'll take him in myself. It'll be less stressful for him." Stiles assured her. She nodded.

"How long has he had asthma?"

"His whole life. It was pretty bad when were little. He hasn't had an attack in a couple of years. We thought he'd outgrown it." Stiles told her, wondering to himself why Scott's asthma was resurfacing.

"You really got through to him." She said, giving Stiles a warm smile.

"Yeah, Scott's got some pretty serious protective instincts." Stiles said with a slight smile. He glanced down at Scott's face, pleased to see his color improving. Gently, Stiles laid Scott on the floor, with a balled up sweatshirt beneath his head. With a sigh of relief, Finch went to the door.

"Alright, everyone. Back to class. Now." As the crowd dispersed, Scott groaned and rolled his head on Stiles' shoulder.

"Scott, you with me, buddy?"

"Mmmmm…"

"Come on, big guy, you gotta give me a little more than that."

"Wha' happened?" Scott slurred, blinking groggily up at him.

"You had an asthma attack. You doing okay?" Scott nodded. Although his breathing had improved quite a bit with the inhaler, his breaths were still shallow and wheezing.

"Tired."

"I bet, but how 'bout we get to the hospital before you totally pass out on me, okay? Let your mom take a look at you?"

"But…'m a werewolf…werewolves 'nd hospitals don't mix." Scott mumbled.

"True, but since you're not healing ridiculously fast, I think we should really get you checked out."

"Don't wanna worry mom."

"Trust me, dude, she'll be more worried – and pissed – if she finds out you didn't let a doctor see you. Come on, I'll be with you the whole time."

"'kay." Scott conceded.

"Can you stand or am I gonna have to drag you out?" Stiles asked.

"I can stand." With Stiles holding one arm and Mrs. Finch holding the other, they slowly got Scott to his feet.

"C'mon. Up ya go."

"Whoah…" Scott staggered as the world spun around him.

"You alright, Scott?" Finch asked.

"Mmmhhh…just dizzy. Gimme a sec." They held Scott still until he felt confident that he wouldn't fall.

"Alright, I got him from here. Do you mind telling the office what's going on?" Stiles asked.

"Sure, I'll let them know. You sure you don't need help?"

"Nah, I've done this plenty of times, right Scotty?"

"Yup."

"Alright, take it easy. Scott, I'll see you in class." Finch said with a wink. Scott smiled at her. With Stiles supporting him, they managed to make it to the Jeep. Stiles buckled Scott in, then drove to the hospital.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

"Easy, Scott, just lean on me." Stiles said softly as he led Scott into the ER. Within seconds, Melissa McCall descended on the two of them.

"Oh my God…Scott! Stiles, what happened?" She asked, motioning for a nurse to bring her a wheelchair.

"He had an asthma attack. I got him to take his inhaler, but his chests still pretty tight." Stiles said, helping Melissa lower Scott into the wheelchair. As she pushed her son into the nearest room, she whispered tensely to Stiles.

"You have to tell me right now, does this involve anything…supernatural?"

"Not that I can tell, no. I'm not exactly sure why he's having an attack since he hasn't had one since the bite, but I don't think it's something you can't treat here." Stiles replied. They reached the room and Melissa knelt to get eye level with Scott.

"Scott, honey, are with me?" She asked, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. Scott blinked at her.

"Yeah. I'm okay." He rasped.

"Alright, let's get you in the bed." With Stiles' help, she got Scott out of the chair and lying down on the bed. Melissa instantly set to work hooking a nasal cannula around his ears and pressing her stethoscope to Scott's chest.

"Scott, I'm gonna go call the others and let them know you're alright. Be right back, okay?" Scott nodded and Stiles left the room.

"Take a deep breath for me." Melissa instructed. She frowned.

"That bad?"

"No, it's just…this shouldn't be happening, right? I thought you being werewolf meant this was over."

"I think it's from the memory."

"You mean that suppressed memory that book was supposed to bring back?"

"Yeah. I didn't really understand it, but I saw myself, as a little kid, being brought here for an asthma attack."

"And that could trigger it?"

"Lydia's had a pretty physical effect on her."

"Okay. Well, your lungs sound pretty good considering. I'm gonna keep you here an hour, then Stiles," she said, glancing at the boy who had just walked back in, "is going to drive you home and tuck you in. Won't you, Stiles?"

"Absolutely." Stiles agreed. Scott laughed softly and closed his eyes.

"Get some rest, sweetheart." Melissa said, kissing Scott's forehead.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

That night Scott slept soundly in his bed. It was a testament to how exhausted he was that he didn't wake at the sound of the door opening. Melissa slipped into her son's room and sat on the edge of the bed. The moonlight shining on Scott's face revealed a healthy color in his cheeks. His breathing was deep and even. He was the picture of health. And yet…

Clutched tightly in his hand was a small red inhaler. It had been nearly two years since she'd seen this and the fact that Scott was worried enough to keep it on him scared her more than anything.

There, that was a bit longer. I do apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes I may have missed. I hope you all enjoyed this!