Scott said nothing more after Stiles had told him what he already knew. What Stiles knew he already knew. Stiles had just been the one to voice it aloud. And now he was wondering if that had been a mistake.

Add it to the list, Stiles thought bitterly.

He had made too many mistakes, been controlled by too many people, to care about the gravity of his words anymore. What more could he do to mess this up? How could he make this worse than it already was? How could he fall farther than he already had?

He wasn't sure he could. And he didn't know how to fix this. So how could he put himself into a worse situation?

His biggest fears had come true. It had started out okay. Scott had been understanding—a friend—as he tried to get Stiles to tell him what it was that he couldn't get out. It had warmed Stiles' heart to hear those kinds of words from his best friend's mouth. And he stupidly hoped that Scott would still be understanding when he heard the truth.

How could he have been that stupid? To think that Scott, the one who strived to save everyone and everything, would ever have understood what had happened. Why couldn't he have just said 'I'm fine' like he had planned to and kicked Scott out again? Why hadn't he done anything to keep this secret from Scott?

Feeling like he was suffocating, Stiles shot off the bed, away from Scott, and shoved his hand into his pocket. Fingers curling around his phone, the only thing in his pocket, Stiles pulled it out. He stared at it for one blank moment, before a surge of anger rushed through him and he found himself yelling and throwing it at the wall.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled, face slack with shock. "What the hell are you doing?"

Stiles didn't answer, though. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Stiles struggled to calm his breathing. He didn't understand why he was so angry all of the sudden, but he did know that he really wanted to hit something. To make the pain and anger and hatred and sorrow go away.

He just wanted it all to go away.

Stomping towards his wall, Stiles pulled his fist back and struck. Again. And again. And again. Until his knuckles were bleeding and he was yelling in grief and rage and Scott was holding him back.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled, having gotten over his initial shock some time ago. Stiles just struggled against Scott's werewolf strength. "Stiles, calm down! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"I don't care!" Stiles shouted, his voice cracking in his anger. "I don't care, Scott! Let me go!"

"Not until you promise me you're going to stop!"

Stiles kept struggling, opening his mouth to retort before it got cut off by a painful gasp of breath. Both Stiles and Scott froze—Stiles in an effort not to let the pain from his wound spread further and Scott from his fear of hearing his best friend's pathetic sound of pain. Slowly, Scott released Stiles from his hold and stepped back, eyes wide.

"Stiles?" Scott croaked. The werewolf's eyes followed Stiles' hand as it lightly touched his shoulder. The place Donovan had bitten him. "Stiles, you okay man? Did I…did I hurt you?"

Stiles just grimaced. "I'm fine."

He wasn't, but it wasn't his shoulder bothering him. His anger from before turned to defeat as he took in Scott's hesitant expression. The werewolf was staring at Stiles like he was glass, delicate and fragile and able to break with just the simplest of words.

"Stiles-"

"What's happening to me?" Stiles asked, cutting Scott off before he could say anything. Stiles stared straight into Scott's eyes. "What's wrong with me? Why am I...? Just tell me how to fix this, Scott."

Scott looked bewildered as he processed Stiles' words. "Fix this? What are you talking about?"

"I killed Donovan, Scott," Stiles stated, his voice flat and unemotional even as a wave of guilt and agony washed over him. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. Of himself. Of what Scott would say to him. Of how this would all turn out. He needed to find some way to control this situation and get rid of his fear. He needed a purpose. "How can I fix this? Just tell me how to fix this and I will."

Wide-eyed, Scott just gaped. Slowly, he said, "Stiles, what happened with Donovan was self-defense. You didn't mean to kill him. You were just trying to get away."

Stiles froze. Those words….

They were everything that Stiles had wanted Scott to say and kept himself from hoping that they would be said. His mind was stuck on those words, repeating them over and over again, wondering if this was some kind of dream.

Because Scott believed him.

"You…you…." Stiles was at a loss for words, just standing there gaping at his best friend.

Scott sighed wearily. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you," he said. "And that you felt you needed to hide it. But I'm your best friend, dude. You don't need to shut me out, and you don't need to fix anything."

"But-"

"It was you," Scott said, "that told me that we were brothers, Stiles. We're brothers. That means we stick together and we have each other's backs."

"I…." Stiles felt the tightness return to his chest, hindering his breathing, but this tension was different from before. This time, it came with watering eyes and a closed off throat as he opened his closed his mouth, struggling to find any words that could explain his emotions.

But on the other hand, what was he feeling? He didn't understand it himself. All he knew was that he was grateful to Scott for disproving his fear of rejection. Knees buckling, Stiles felt himself go limp as the shock finally settled. He felt himself tilt forward, and probably would have collapsed on the floor if Scott hadn't been there to catch him and hold him up. Stiles gripped Scott as if his best friend was a lifeline that could save him from drowning.

"Thank you," the human whispered to his werewolf of a best friend. "Thank you, Scott. Thanks for always having my back. I don't know what I would ever do without you."

Scott smiled sadly. "Yeah, me either. Now, do you have any leftover pizza we could heat up? I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Stiles half-laughed, half-cried, getting his feet underneath him and somehow standing on his own. He felt light and happy, something he hadn't felt in way too long. Since before Allison and the Nogitsune. Or had it been before Jackson? Or maybe before Scott was bitten? Oh god, had it really been so long since he had felt any sort of normalcy that he couldn't actually remember when it had been?

And yet, even though he felt light and happy, there was something still lurking beneath his skin. Something older and sadder and angrier. Lurking there, waiting for the right moment to strike again. Stiles just hoped it wouldn't strike him with his best friend around.

"Yeah, let's leave the werewolf problems until tomorrow, yeah Scotty?" Stiles asked, smiling with trembling lips. "I think we have some casserole in the fridge that I can pop in the microwave."

Scott, grinning, took his hand and led him out of his bedroom. And he left behind his board and the rest of the weight on his shoulders. "Sounds amazing."

And Stiles couldn't help but let out another mad burst of laughter. To hell to the facts. To hell with this town. To hell with his problems. They could all wait until tomorrow.

Merry Christmas! Look who finally got this out! Yay! Now I can mark this as complete.

To be honest, I don't know how I feel about this one. It took me months to write like ten paragraphs, and I swear it was like pulling teeth. All the way to the end. Still, I'm glad I got this out to you guys. It took a lot of effort just to write this and I'm super happy I got it out in time for Christmas. So much to do. Anyways, thanks so much for all of your guys' support. It really helped me out! Please let me know what you thought!