SUCCUMB

"ANCHORS"

CHAPTER I- SCOTT

Scott yawned as he stood in the kitchen, waiting for his water to boil.

Checking his watch, he groaned when he realized that it wasn't too far off the last time he checked. It's still too early, Scott thought to himself as he walked towards the electric kettle, gripping the edge of marble counter top as tight as he could without breaking it. Turning his head to a side, Scott saw how much damage he had caused the kitchen the past few weeks because he had trouble with his balance. The counter by his side had its edges chipped off because sometimes, he couldn't control his strength.

Scott closed his eyes shut when a wave of dizziness came at him, enough to make him grip the edge tightly. But almost immediately, Scott loosened his grip on the edge. "Scott," he remembered his Mom's breathy chuckle when she helped him towards the sofa in the living room. "I know that you're used to the fact that you have supernatural healing abilities but you have to remember that the house doesn't," she joked around, trying to make the atmosphere lighter but it was no use, Scott could hear right through the joke that she was way too worried for him.

Especially when she saw the blood dripping from his hands.

Shaking the thought from his head, Scott took a look at his hands. While it wasn't soaked and dripping with blood, he did wound himself and drew specks of it. Scott sighed at the sight, wondering when it would finally become easy for him.

With the massive headaches, Scott felt so tired above it all. He's been sleeping less and less hours the past few weeks because the nightmares he get, the terrors he has to go through wouldn't let him. It was fucking hell for him, and he was a werewolf with healing powers. Scott wondered what it would be like for someone without his healing powers.

Stiles.

Scott suddenly thought of Stiles above the noise the electric kettle made. His best friend is human and Scott knew that he was going through the same thing he is. Scott remembered when he visited Stiles the other day, he remembered that his best friend's scent smelled so bad—Scott could smell Stiles' mental and physical health deteriorating. Everything in the room reeked of Stiles' sweat and his chemo-signal. . .Scott could practically hear him yelling, struggling against the Sheriff's arms.

And then, Scott learned that Stiles had sleep paralysis, too, and that to wake up, he literally had to scream himself awake.

With Scott, it was a bit different. He had sleep paralysis, too, but he didn't have to scream himself awake. Instead, Scott would often wake up after the part of his dream where he'd decapitating his best friend's head off his motionless body. Scott's body would jerk upwards, panting as he woke up. His eyes would glow red and he couldn't control himself. Scott would be covered in blood as his bed would be stained in deep, crimson red.

It turns out, Scott had been digging his claws into the palm of his hands. It happened so frequently that Scott eventually ran out of sheets and linens that he resorted to using the swivel chair inside his room and moved it to the bathroom—just so that he wouldn't ruin the carpet—where he'd just stay up the whole night, sipping from his thermos and try his best to stay awake. He'd fail in the end, anyway, and he'd find himself sweating through his shirt like crazy and that the ground beneath him had blood pooling around.

Scott really wished that Deaton would find a way soon because if Stiles was going through this, then he has no idea how long he has until he breaks. Because right now, Scott feels like giving up and giving in and just lose control because it's been so hard on him. Right now, Scott has so much respect for Stiles because of how long he's managed to stay on top of everything that's been happening to them.

Them. . .Allison.

The news of him miraculously coming back to life was the talk of the town, everyone gossiping about how a regular teenage boy mysteriously died and came back. Scott didn't want to see questioning glances or the looks of pity, he just needed some time to himself so he avoided everyone, in general, including those who knew what happened to him. Scott knew that Stiles and Allison felt the same way so the next thing he's heard is that there are rumors going around town about them.

After the whole coming-back-to-life ordeal, Scott never really did manage to get a moment to talk with Allison after what had happened between them in purgatory. The whole confession, how she admitted that she never stopped loving him, that gave him so much joy and relief back then but right now, all Scott could think of was nothing but darkness. It was painful and hard for Scott to think of her so naturally, he thought that seeing her would be a whole lot worse.

So, Scott avoided Allison and he guessed that she knew what he was trying to do. Scott was thankful, of course, that she respected his wishes but what he didn't expect was that she sent someone to spy on him for her. Lydia would always end up on his doorstep, offering some kind of pastry with an outrageous price tag attached to it.

The little he knows of Allison's condition was from Lydia's vaguely worded messages. From what he remembered, Allison was being haunted by memories of her Aunt Kate. Scott shivered when he remembered Kate Argent—Scott gritted his teeth because he remembered that it was her fault as to why he became a werewolf in the first place.

She did this to me!

Scott felt a sharp sting in the palm of his hands and quickly realized that he was gripping the edge of the counter top to hard and that he's made another dent. Scott sighed, groaning slightly when he realized that his Mom would see the little trail of blood his wound made. Crossing the room, Scott took a piece of tissue and started to wipe the floor, the tissue stained crimson red immediately.

Inspecting the damage done, Scott realized that it wasn't all that bad. In fact, his Mom would have to look at it real closely to see that he actually did ship off some of the marble. And if she did, he could easily lie and tell her that he had done that one about a few weeks ago.

But then again, there was someone who lived in the house who he couldn't fool.

Scott's eyes drifted upwards, the spot above the kitchen which happened to be the guest bedroom. Isaac would easily know that he was lying—he's too tired to actually calm his heart beat down, to try and protect his lie from him—because he could hear his heart beat, he could smell the scent of fresh blood inside the kitchen, and he kept track of every time he broke something in the house after the incident on purgatory.

A part of Scott was glad that he kept Isaac away during the mornings. At first, Isaac would be with him, guarding him like any beta would but then Scott sent him off to Allison with the reason that she's a human and that maybe the Argents need more help than he does. And Scott believed that, he's a werewolf, after all, he can survive a few nights without sleeping. It'll be a fine preparation for college, even.

And besides, Scott knew that even though Isaac had no more-than-friendly feelings for Allison, he had a soft spot for her like he has with Lydia so he stayed at the Argents on the weekends but he would pop up every now and then to make sure that he's fine or something.

Scott could see it in Isaac. He's moved on from Allison. Scott could hear Isaac's heartbeat and he could say it confidently that Isaac's moved on from her but it doesn't really quite help him get rid of the image. Scott knew to himself that Allison and Isaac—his friends—are his lifelines but whenever he's around her or whenever he tries to look back on memories he has with her, Scott is thrown overboard and the little control he has kept on himself is thrown out the window.

Then, all of a sudden, Scott heard a sharp whistle and bent his head down, closing his eyes shut when he realized that it was the water. Grabbing his mug and thermos, both of which were filled with a sachet of instant coffee, Scott poured a generous amount of water into both cups. Grabbing the lid of the thermos, Scott screwed the top on and placed it inside the water bottle compartment by the side of his bag.

Taking a slice of bread from a small air-locked container, Scott took a small piece of paper and wrote a note for his Mom, telling her that she shouldn't worry about him and that he'd leave a message once he'd get to school.

Finishing his cup of coffee, Scott placed the mug inside the sink before heading towards the living room where most of his stuff where.

Setting his bag down on the coffee table, Scott noticed that the sun was already up, beams of lights streaming in through the windows near him. Scott turned around, his head looking over both of his shoulders trying to find his books. Finally seeing the pile of textbooks, Scott managed to place it all inside his bag and zip it close without collapsing or gritting his teeth to get through a migraine.

Scott huffed, satisfied at what he had just achieved. Looking through the window, with the sun shining in his face, illuminating his skin, Scott realized that maybe he does have a chance. Maybe he and Stiles will get over this thing.

Slinging his back pack over his right shoulder, Scott grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and the helmet sitting next to it when he saw his shadow. At first, he thought it was some kind of trick of the light or some kind of illusion, but he he felt his claws unsheathe themselves. He did feel his nails grow longer and when he spotted his shadow, Scott would be fooling himself if he tried to convince himself that he was in control.

Shaking his head, Scott moved towards the door and heard some rusting in the kitchen. He sniffed the air and sighed. It was Isaac—because of all the things he's thinking of, Scott could barely focus on his surroundings, he wouldn't even hear if someone was screaming his name—going through the cabinets.

Crossing the living room, Scott found Isaac with a mug in his hand and a quizzical look on his face. "Hey," Isaac said simply, totally not surprised that he was still inside the house. The look on Isaac's face would have made Scott groaned—his chemo-signal was all over the place and he knew that Isaac found out about the newly chipped off marble and the connected it to the metallic scent of fresh blood.

Scott gave his beta a thin-lipped smile before awkwardly half-waving his hand in the air. "Oh. Hey," Scott's arm eventually fell to his side as Isaac continued to give him a quizzical look that almost made him feel uncomfortable.

Holding his mug close to his chest, Isaac looked over his shoulder before he turned again to face Scott, pointing his finger at the cabinets. "Did you notice that the coffee powder is gone?" Isaac had this look of innocence that Scott totally knew was fake. He could even smell Isaac trying to pretend that he didn't know anything. "See, I just came in and Melissa saw me, asked me to make some coffee but when I came to find the sachets," Isaac held up his mug, showing Scott the bottom.

It was empty.

"Turns out we ran out, which was really weird because only Melissa and I drink coffee," Scott opened his mouth, wanting to interrupt and tell Isaac and tell him that they're going to be late when he realized that they were far too early for school. Isaac pressed finger on his cheek and cupped his chin with his hand, pretending to be deep in thought, wondering on what could have possibly happened to the coffee. "I mean, we only drink it in the morning and Melissa only bought the coffee yesterday," Isaac's expression changed into something more serious.

Scott immediately noticed the change in Isaac's stance and his chemo-signal reeked of worry and concern. He honestly wanted to tell him that he was going to be fine and that he is fine but he's too tired of lying and he doubts that he can mask his scent and control his heartbeat when he's too damn tired. He's exhausted, haven't got a full night's sleep in 3 weeks.

Matter of fact, Scott didn't even sleep last night. He just drank coffee in his bathroom and stared at the ceiling, his eyes randomly making these images of shadows growing until he'd see that it's gone and that there was nothing even there.

Taking a step, Scott could smell so many emotions from Isaac. Anger, concern, disappointment and fear stood among the rest. "Listen, I know that it's been a tough week for you, for all of you guys," Isaac started out firmly but not harsh or unkind. "But you need to pull yourself together. I mean, what are you even doing? You're not even going to therapy with Deaton!" the thought bore a hole in Scott's mind. Isaac was right; Scott has been skipping on the therapy sessions Deaton's been arranging for him, Stiles, and Allison.

"I was tired, Isaac. I couldn't go." Scott admitted weakly, not even trying to convince himself.

"Listen," Isaac said, his shoulders hunched in defeat. "How about you give it a go with Deaton's sessions? And if it doesn't work then," Isaac had an unreadable expression on his face before he turned his back and got something from the fridge. It smelled of some Japanese brand of ice-coffee. "Then I'll let you go and perfect the art of doing nothing," uncapping the bottle, Isaac took a quick drink before wiping his lips clear of any residue.

Walking towards the living room, Isaac spotted a motorcycle helmet that Scott kept in case someone needed to ride with him during all their escapades running around town, trying to save lives. "Um, are you going to school?" Scott looked raised a questioning glance at him. Isaac never did like school, and his constant using of his phone—like right now, Isaac was using his phone—didn't really vouch for him.

Scott shot Isaac a wary look, especially when he heard tapping and clicking on the screen. "Yeah."

Isaac nodded, thinking deeply as if what he said held so much underlying meaning. "Okay, me too," he said coolly, his brow raised as he continued nodding.

Walking towards the front door, looking at Isaac as he gazed at the spare helmet absentmindedly. "Good." Isaac was never known for his perfect attendance before and after becoming a werewolf. "Do you need a ride?" normally, Isaac rode with Derek to school but Scott's heard that something happened between them and that there was a rift between the two.

Isaac nodded, responded by taking the spare helmet into his hands. Hopping onto the motorcycle, Scott noticed that Isaac still wasn't getting on his bike. "Uh, Isaac? I want to get there early," Scott then sniffed the air, immediately cursing when Isaac's head jerked up. Lately, his powers have been all messed up and when he wants to do something, it'll draw more attention than usual.

"Can I ask you a question?" Isaac asked him, all of a sudden, concern still hanging in the air.

Scott nodded. "Okay." Inserting the key, he was ready to start the engine when Isaac spoke up again.

"Are you angry at me?"

"No," Scott answered quickly. Maybe too quickly.

Isaac pressed. "Are you sure?" Scott saw Isaac's eyes and how they shone, expecting an answer.

'Yes.' Scott wanted to say but then his vision turned dark and pain coursed through his head. "No," he ended up saying, sighing when Isaac didn't notice his little loss of composure.

Isaac looked conflicted. "What's that means?" Scott shrugged, not really knowing what he meant when he said it.

"I guess I'm not really sure how I'm feeling," Scott's eyes wandered towards Isaac standing in the middle of the door frame, his ears picking up a familiar rustle in an upstairs room which was like a combination of running water from a leaky faucet and smoothing out bed covers. Scott realized that his mother's already up.

Isaac nodded. "Okay. Do you hate me?" Scott balked at the question, not expecting it. Scott figured out that he probably looked like a fish with his mouth hanging out open.

Shaking his head, Scott had a small smile on his face to try and convince Isaac that he didn't have any bad feelings towards him. "No, of course not," but Isaac was unfazed, it was like he was set on finding some sort of suppressed feeling inside of Scott that wanted something bad to happen to his beta

Isaac nodded, his expression not changing. "Do you want to hit me?" Scott's eyes widened as immediately shook his head, even waving his hands in like an 'x'.

"No." Scott was sure this time. He didn't want to hit his friend.

But you do.

A voice sounded. Scott looked around, trying to see if anyone passed by but he knew no one did. It was an eerie feeling, hearing the voice, and felt something wrong, like something cold passed through his body.

"I think you should hit me." Scott looked at Isaac and realized that this was about Allison. Scott figured that Isaac was still trying to even things out even though there was nothing really bad between them. His beta probably thought that he was a bit bitter about the whole attraction between them but it was nothing really to Scott.

Then it suddenly clicked in Scott's mind why Isaac started the whole thing with coffee and Deaton's therapy sessions. Aside from being worried for him, Scott figured out that Isaac thought he wasn't attending because he was there with Allison.

"I don't want to hit you." Scott reassured his friend before giving him a half-smile through his tired face and his heavy eyelids.

It took all of Scott's will-power, honestly, to stop himself from just collapsing on the ground and he wondered why Isaac wasn't noticing anything.

Isaac looked skeptical at his answer, wondering if it was sincere or not. "Are you sure?" Scott nodded, forcing out a chuckle that sounded so wrong on so many levels because it ended up as a coughing fit. Isaac was about to rush to his aid when he held up a hand and told him he was fine.

"Why would I want to hit you? It's not like you did anything, did you?" Isaac's eyes widened, his hands protectively moving towards his phone.

Isaac's mouth hung open like a fish, much like how Scott was earlier. "No. I mean, um," he stammered, the fingers on his free hand fidgeted with one another. Isaac cleared his throat as if he had swallowed sand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, you're not doing anything, right?" Scott had a wave of pain rush through him. It might have looked like, to Isaac that he was thinking of something very bad that happened between him and Allison.

Isaac shook his head, not bothering to mask his heartbeat and his chemo-signal reeked of lies. "No! Absolutely not. No," Scott narrowed his eyes at his beta, walking up towards him.

"You are doing something right now, aren't you?" as if on cue, Isaac's phone rang and he heard the tone. It was a special tone that was used for Allison whenever she'd call him. Lydia thought that it'd be better for everyone to have designated ringtones for everyone to save time. "Allison, huh?" for a moment, Scott was thinking that maybe Isaac and Allison were getting back on track but he would have smelled it from Isaac. Scott then realized what he was doing. "You were texting earlier. Texting Allison—are you spying on me for her?" Isaac opened his mouth, his face filled with shock, ready to defend himself when he caught himself and just stopped.

Eventually, Isaac breathed out. "Yeah. I was totally spying on you for Allison," biting his bottom lip, Scott nodded before slamming Isaac back inside his house. The sound of Isaac's body crashing against the floor was quite loud and Scott found himself smiling, not from the sheer humor that Isaac found in the slamming, but a darker one that went away as fast as it arrived. Either way, Scott brushed it off. It was against the bro-code, anyway, for Isaac to do spying on him on orders from his ex-girlfriend.

Isaac groaned, but a small and genuine smile appeared on his face when Scott came over, offering a hand to help him up.

That was when Melissa came over to inspect what had happened and groaned when she realized what had happened. "You two supernatural teenage boys," she pointed to the both of them as Scott helped Isaac up. Scott gave a sheepish smile to his mother as Isaac brushed off the non-existent dust on his pants to try and avoid Melissa's scolding. "Don't test my entirely un-supernatural level of patience!" she warned before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Looking at Isaac, Scott pointed at his motorcycle. "Hey, you still want to go?" Scott blinked a few times to make sure that he was awake and he wouldn't fall asleep. Isaac nodded, grabbing the helmet that came tumbling down the floor, leaving a few scratches against the wood paneling of the furniture.

Scott wore his helmet and grabbing the bottle of coffee Isaac drank from. Holding it up, Scott shrugged at the weight before uncapping the bottle and drinking the rest of the coffee. "Yeah," Isaac and Scott went outside, got on the motorcycle before he slowly exited the driveway.

As Scott was about to start the engine, he heard his Mom groan in frustration and wonder. "I could have swore that I just bought coffee!" Scott could feel Isaac's knowing glance from behind him.

Chuckling under his breath, Scott started the engine, the sound filling the lot around them. "Shut up, man," Scott said before driving off to Beacon Hills High School.