The first three chapters of the story has been based on the first episode of Teen Wolf Season 3B, Anchors. Now, however, the story will take a more independent turn and all future chapters will only be loosely based, taking notes here and there from all sorts of episodes from 3B's run. With that said, enjoy!

SUCCUMB

CHAPTER IV - SCOTT

Scott's heart skipped a beat when he saw the animal clinic and instantly knew that something was wrong.

Allison, Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac already went inside but he stayed behind, making up some excuse about hiding his key behind the stub of his tire when he just placed it inside one of his jacket's pockets. It wasn't like Scott hated Deaton but there was this feeling that made him want to avoid his boss. It wasn't anything like how he felt about seeing Allison—her presence made him lose control—but the thought of Deaton scares him, all of a sudden.

Getting off his bike, Scott felt like someone was watching him and when he turned, he saw his beta and friend, Isaac, giving him a weird look before looking at the tire tracks left by the motorbike. "Awesome riding. Where'd you learn that from?" Isaac said mockingly but Scott heard this tiny voice, this low tone that asked if he was alright and if riding his bike would always be like that.

Shaking his head, Scott ignored the comment and went inside the glass doors despite the gut feeling that told him not to.

A wave of cold air hit his skin and the smell of animal-friendly chemicals and medicine was the first thing Scott noticed. Tilting his head to a side, Scott heard his best friend open a small jar before the scent of mountain ash exploded into the air. He could hear how the powder was slowly being poured into another container. Leaning in closer to hear better, Scott heard Stiles chuckle sheepishly when footsteps resounded. "Never know when I might need some," his best friend explained.

Scott's thoughts slowly drifted to a question as he began wondering why Stiles would have needed mountain ash when he remembered History with Mr. Yukimura and the notebook incident. Scott knew from the look alone in Stiles eyes, how his muscles were strained when he tried to help him. Hell, Scott thought to himself when he remembered how Stiles avoided him after the class finished, I could even hear him get goosebumps!

Much like how Scott was afraid of seeing Deaton, he knew that Stiles was afraid of him. But the resounding question was why. Why is he afraid of Deaton and why is Stiles afraid of him?

Isaac passed by him, moving towards the counter to get to the examination room. "You coming inside?" his voice jarred back Scott to reality. Still feeling the gut feeling that seeing Deaton was something he should avoid, Scott shook his head and just pointed at the green and stuffy sofas in the waiting room.

Scott pressed an arm to his abdomen. "Been having this stomach bug lately," Scott gave Isaac a tight smile before plopping down unceremoniously on the couch. Isaac grunted in response before joining the others, obviously not buying his lie but at least it made sense. Scott knew that Isaac knows about him staying in his bathroom and while he couldn't really persuade his beta otherwise, having an alibi that made sense was half the battle he fought with making everyone believe that he's fine.

Leaning back into the sofa, Scott closed his eyes to get some rest. A sigh escaped his lips, feeling comfort, when haunting flashes of red light attacked him and the scent of blood reached his nostrils. Images of Stiles' dead body came flooding through his mind. With a sharp breath of air, Scott opened his eyes and blinked drowsily, feeling nauseous all of a sudden with the image of killing his best friend still fresh in his mind.

Scott groaned and sat up straight to reach for his bag, realizing that he wouldn't be sleeping because his nightmares weren't going anywhere. Unzipping the main compartment, Scott grabbed the thermos he packed earlier and drank the coffee he had prepared earlier.

The taste of coffee woke him up and immediately made a face at the bitter taste.

Ever since the bite, Scott found that coffee, for him, became unbearable and Stiles explained that he was a werewolf—an overgrown puppy, was Stiles' exact words—and caffeine wasn't something he'd enjoy. Isaac was a different case because he was used to the taste of coffee. Being a werewolf in the first few months meant having your every mental and physical skill heightened and magnified beyond control, Derek told him that Isaac couldn't stand sleeping because he'd remember how he was locked inside a freezer so he always had coffee, which is why he has a gold Starbucks card.

But Scott wasn't Isaac. He wasn't used to the taste of coffee, and his nightmares weren't composed of haunting images of killing his best friend.

Isaac, as a friend, has been nothing but supportive and helpful, contrary to his retort that being helpful was a new thing for him and his dry remarks that hid his real intentions—he just wants to know how he is. And yet, even though Scott knew that, he felt anger course through him whenever he'd spy on him for Allison or when he'd push him to get better because he has no idea what he's going through.

Scott felt guilty for being mad at his beta but there was a part inside of him, somewhere deep down, that wasn't guilty. Scott was honestly afraid of that part of him because whenever he'd dream of killing Stiles, that part of him would take control and he'd be forced. Scott would scream and yell and fight as much as he could but all he can do was watch through his eyes as his body was doing someone else's bidding.

He knew how that part of him felt, Scott felt his body smile against his will. The person controlling him was enjoying the kill, had no remorse and had no fear. Scott was afraid of that person. Who wouldn't be?

But Scott knew that dreams weren't to be taken lightly. He's read a book before, about dreams and how they're symbolic most of the time. And then there was another book about demigods and how their dreams are prophetic. Scott's heart pounded hard against his chest—what if the dream was his body's way of warning him that the predator inside of him was taking control.

Scott's lips trembled. He didn't want to be a monster. He didn't want to be the kind of werewolf that the Argents would hunt down.

Remembering Deaton's words about stopping the darkness from getting to him, Scott shook away the negative thoughts and eyes the wall beside him that divided him and his friends. He stood up, wanting to join them when there was a creaking sound from a door and hushed tones.

Walking closer, Scott pressed his ear against the wall. There was a shuffling of feet in the examination room, probably where Isaac, Lydia, and Stiles were because he heard their voices. Smelling the air, Scott traced the scent of mountain ash and of tranquilizer from the room where they were. Scott heard someone, probably Isaac, opening an overhead cabinet and hearing the drawer squeak.

A part of Scott wanted to stop, thinking that maybe the weird sound of the door came from the cabinet but then realized that it was way too different. Pressing his ear against the wall again, Scott closed his eyes and concentrated before soon catching the scent of cats mixed with Allison and Deaton's scent. Scott realized, through the sounds of meowing and hissing, that they were trying to have a conversation in private so that even he and Isaac couldn't hear them.

Scott focused and concentrated to catch an audible word from them. After breathing deep and clearing his mind, Scott heard his boss' voice, standing above all the other noise that cats created. "Miss Argent," Deaton said, he could almost see a smile on the vet's face. "I take it that you're here to discuss about your progress from our sessions?" Scott heard a whoosh of air and smelled Allison's lavender shampoo before smelling silver and dry-cleaned clothes that had hint of mistletoe and mountain ash. "Or perhaps you came to collect your personal effects that you've left some time, say, three weeks ago?"

There was a shift in footing from someone light. Scott knew that it was Allison, figuring that Deaton would have made much more noise. "No, but I am here to take something," Scott heard Deaton hum ever so lightly before moving across the closet, clinking of bottles was heard as his boss rummaged through their supplies.

"Scott's, I presume?" it was faint, but Scott heard the Allison's hair sound as she nodded.

Scott's eyes widened, thinking what Allison was taking. Pressing his ear against the wall, Scott only realized his mistake when he heard the cats screeching and hissing. He had lost his focus and he didn't know what it was that Allison took from Deaton. Trying to focus, Scott closed his eyes but then picked up footsteps coming his way.

Scott crossed the room as fast as he can without making any noise and controlling his heartbeat. After what seemed like an eternity, Scott managed to get back to the sofa just in time for Isaac, Stiles, and Lydia to enter the waiting room. Scott's heart beat began skyrocketing as bullets of sweat began to form on his forehead, his breath quickening from the close call he just had. Isaac noticed, of course, and had a worried look on his face. "Stomach bug?" he asked and Scott nodded, hearing his beat's heart beat.

Fighting off the smile as he pretended to wince in pain, Scott nodded. His beta was starting to believe his alibi and he didn't really have to lie about having this heavy gut feeling that made him nauseous. Brushing away the sick feeling, Scott stood up and grabbed his motorcycle helmet. "We ready to go?" Isaac's eyes narrowed at him and held his hands forward, as if trying to pacify him into doing something. "What?"

Isaac had this alarmed and cautious look on his face. "Maybe when you calm down first?" Scott fished out his phone from his pocket. Facing the black screen of his phone, Scott realized that his eyes were glowing red again. Feeling a growing pain inside his mouth, Scott saw that his teeth were sharpening and he was slowly shifting into a werewolf. "Scott, I need you to calm down," Isaac said a bit more firmly than before.

With his heart racing like a horse, Scott took a step backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. He kept of thinking of good things but it all eventually came back to thoughts of killing Stiles. Scott blinked hard, breathing fast as he pressed his nails into his palm and drew blood, relishing in the control pain brought him when he caught a scent.

Slowly, Scott could feel his muscles relaxing and his vision became normal again before he wiped his hands clean of his blood and fished out a piece of scented paper with a number. Kira, Scott thought to himself when he breathed in the paper and looked intently at the phone number written on it.

Before they left school, Scott found Kira waiting by the staircase and immediately felt guilty about having forgotten about walking her to class. So he did what he did best when it comes to the girls he's disappointed before: he apologized and asked for a second chance which turned out to be a date.

Scott didn't know why he was attracted to Kira or why he liked her, but there was something about her, something in her that made him want to be near her always. Her scent was oddly familiar, too, as if he's caught it years ago because it was so faint, like he knew it from a past lifetime or something. It was weird, but Scott oddly felt drawn to her and her scent.

Across him, Isaac calmed down, too, and nodded at the sight before him, a small teasing smile appearing on his face. "Maybe I should bring her along sometime, too, if that calms you down," although it was a joke, Scott didn't like the idea of having Kira brought along to their pack missions. A part of Scott thought that it was okay for him to be like that, to not want Kira to be around him because he's a beacon that attracts anything supernatural and being around her could just bring her into a world where she's constantly in danger.

Scott would have been happy with that conclusion. He didn't want the girl he likes(?) to be around when he's doing his dangerous escapades with his friends. That he wants to protect himself, too, if she turns out to be something like Kate Argent or some psychopath who wants to bring death to all the supernaturals, and while Scott knows that she isn't, he can never be too safe.

But there was this underlying threat in his stomach that said she's more than the new girl, that she's more than a wallflower. A part of Scott's mind told him that she's a force to be reckoned with and that he should be careful around her. Or her family, Scott thought to himself when Allison and Deaton came into the room.

While Scott's not counting Kira in because it's way too soon to tell, he could confidently say that Allison is the first and only girl he's ever loved. With that being said, he doesn't much experience in the world of dating but so far, he's had rotten luck with his ex-girlfriend's family—her dad threatened to kill him at gun point, her mom tried to kill him with wolfsbane, her aunt tried to kill him, her grandpa coerced him to do his bidding and tried to kill him—so he's hoping that if ever things go in a more-than-friendly way between him and Kira, he'd get lucky with her family.

"Is everything okay?" Scott heard Lydia's voice as she asked, feeling her eyeing him warily as he stood in the corner of the room.

Scott nodded, sighing before he walked away from his corner, feeling dizzy all of a sudden because of the lack of support. Scott immediately grabbed the edge of one of the sofas and gripped it tight so that he wouldn't fall towards the floor. "Just peachy," he smiled at Lydia before he crossed the room and walked out the glass doors, heading towards his dirt bike before he put on his helmet.

Suddenly, Scott's phone rang and once he fished it out of his pocket, he saw a message from Stiles. It was a map towards the where the car had tumbled down only to crash. Memorizing the trail, Scott placed his phone inside one of his pocket and steadied his backpack before riding off with his friends hot on his trail.

Eventually, the road got rockier and the buildings on both sides of the streets were replaced by trees until Scott found himself in the middle of the forest when his phone suddenly beeped, vibrating inside his pocket. Scott went to a side before getting off of his bike, the lights from Stiles' Jeep and Allison's Prius appearing beside him. Seconds later, Stiles came out armed with a baseball bat, Allison with her crossbow, Lydia had a flashlight in hand, and Isaac happily stepped out of the Prius, whistling as he checked his watch.

Knowing Isaac, he was probably happy because he got to skipped Mrs. Dodd's Elective Algebra.

With Lydia taking her place in front of everyone, Scott kept looking around to see if there was any threat to their lives. So far, he's satisfied with how the only heartbeats he's hearing happens to be a few birds, a number of insects, a coyote, topped of with some woodland creatures and some predators that are a bit far from them.

Stepping on a branch, Scott's head snapped towards Lydia's direction when she grunted her the heel of her boot sunk into the ground. "You know," Lydia grumbled as he continued walking, "Malia's body was never found and for what I remember from the news, Henry Tate filed for a missing person's case. So, technically, wouldn't the car be evidence?" Scott shot his friend a look, fighting a smile off as she obviously complained about being out in the woods.

A small smile found its way on his face when he remembered how Lydia convinced Allison to join them in finding out what really happened to Henry Tate's family that night his wife was driving their kids home.

Stiles faltered a bit, obviously stopping to catch his breath. Scott was reminded of his younger self, of how he used to be that kid, the boy who needs a break every once in a while because he was a severe asthmatic. "Guess it was too much pain in the ass," Scott nodded at it, seeing reason in it.

Scott remembered the first few weeks after Malia initially went missing. There was so much hope that she would have been found only for a massive amount of blood to turn up a few days later into the search and rescue. In the end, Malia was legally dead.

Scott could only imagine how painful it was for Mr. Tate not only to bury his wife and child—something a parent should never go through—but he also had to bury an empty coffin. It's simple enough for Scott to understand without ever going through that experience that there would never be any closure to that.

Suddenly, as they were carefully finding their footing as they climbed down a slope, a coyote howled and Stiles grabbed Lydia's arm, making her drop her cellphone. Scott saw the screen go dark once it hit the foot of the slope and beside him, Lydia gave Stiles a sharp look. "Sorry," was his best friend's sheepish apology.

Lydia huffed before moving her foot to take another step down but momentarily lost her balance when her heel got stuck on a twig or something. Instinctively, Scott's arm reached out for Lydia and steadied her. "It's alright," behind him, Scott knew that Allison's attention spiked when she heard him say that. Her chemo-signals went off like fireworks, and while he didn't know exactly why, those words rolled off his tongue sounded oddly familiar to him as if he said it before to Allison. "I'll get it."

Digging his shoe on the somewhat soft soil, Scott carefully climbed down and eventually reached the foot of the slope after having a slip up where he hit his head hard. He blacked out and his head ached, at first, but then bent down to try and find Lydia's phone. Scott looked around and closed his eyes, trying to remember where it landed and realized that it must be near the car wreck. Walking towards the overturned sedan, Scott squinted in the dark trying to see the phone before deciding that it was way too dark for him to find it without some sort of light.

Hearing his friends slowly make their way down to join him find Lydia's phone, Scott took his phone—which almost slipped from his hands, dropping it even—from his pocket and flashed the screen on the ground trying to get some sort of reflection.

After a few moments, Scott bent down and jogged up near to Lydia with her white mobile in hand. Wiping it dry and clean, Scott handed it back to his friend when Isaac beside him tensed up. At first, he wanted to ask his beta what was wrong when he heard it—there was an extra heart beat and Scott was sure as hell that it wasn't human.

"Isaac," Scott only flashed one look at his beta, nodding his head before he went into the forest to chase after what had growled at him. On the chase, Scott ran as fast as he could and felt himself tire out, taking a moment for himself to breath when his muscles tensed and his hearing picked up something so animal, something predatory. Turning around, Scott saw a coyote baring its teeth at him, growling menacingly.

Panting, Scott took a look at the animal before him when Isaac finally caught up to him in the clearing, albeit being across him by the field. The coyote had a grey coat that shimmered in the moonlight, almost appearing silver, which made Scott's heart ache painfully.

Silver. Argentum. Argent.

Scott knew that it was a bad idea to dig his claws into his palm, seeing that he would draw blood and the scent could cause a wild animal near him go rabid and uncontrollable. Breathing in deep, Scott tried to calm himself down as his hand instinctively went to his pocket, trying to get Kira's number written on that scented piece of paper with the ink smudged with the end her finger print, only to find that it was gone and missing.

Slowly, his vision began to fade and blur. He felt his pupils dilate and his irises glow red uncontrollably. Gulping, he panted deep and panicked though Isaac seemed largely uninterested and was fixed on something else.

"Scott, I think the dirty coyote is Malia," Isaac had his hand held out in front of him as if he was trying to calm down the animal in front of him but Scott breath hitched and got caught in his throat. "Scott, I think Malia is the—Scott?" Isaac's voice trailed off, echoing like they were inside a cave.

Scott wanted to ask Isaac what was wrong, what he meant with saying that Malia is the coyote or something when his body suddenly sprinted off in the distance and he found himself in a dark place.

Scott looked around even if it was pitch black. The preserve was a dark place, in general, but subtle beams of moonlight would stream through the leaves of the trees and he's sure that the forest wouldn't suddenly become pitch black. Running around, Scott began to hyperventilate when the temperature suddenly dropped, his mind racing as he remembered his dreams. "No, no, no!" Scott gritted his teeth as he eyed his surroundings, digging his nails deeper into his palms to wake up but it was useless.

"It doesn't bark, it doesn't bite but it still won't let you in. What is it?"

Scott's eyes widened when he heard the eerie voice. The familiar eerie voice that kept haunting him in his dreams. Immediately, Scott began running away, remembering what happened when he would and wouldn't answer. He shook the thoughts away from his mind, reminding himself that he may be a predator but he isn't a monster. Stiles is his best friend in the whole world and he would rather die than think of killing him, Scott thought to himself as he kept running away from the voice that kept repeating the riddle.

It was ironic, actually, the riddle used this time because he's a werewolf, one who does roar and growl and bite, facing a (possible were) coyote, that growls and bites.

Still running, Scott then heard this sharp whistle that made him fall to his knees. His bones broke and snapped in several different places. Scott remembered that night in school when Peter made him turn against his will and he had to fight this incredible urge to kill his friend who were conveniently herded in a room. Memories flashed through his mind as his younger self locked the door from outside before hearing Allison's cries and pleas reverberating through his eardrums.

Scott knew that his love for Allison was stronger than his blood lust because she was his anchor. Admittedly, he knew to himself that the only thing stronger than his powerful urge to kill was his love for that one girl but now, he's not so sure. Now, a part of Scott is wondering what if he had just let the predator in him win that night.

Because the blood lust flowing inside of him is screaming at his every fiber, begging for a kill. Scott wonders to himself that if he had killed them that night, would he be going through the immense pain he's feeling right now? The pain of having to feel his every bone in his body break—something that should kill him—but it kept going on and on, repeating itself. Scott cried out in pain, wondering, regretting that he locked the option of killing out.

"Why did I lock it?" Scott asked himself weakly as he bit down another scream. He asked himself the question again. Why did he protected Allison? Why did he lock that door? "Lock. Lock, lock, lock," he snapped, finally letting the pain into him, answering the riddle.

"Very good, wolfling," the eerie voice praised and finally, Scott's vision returned, but it wasn't back to normal.

Breathing heavily, Scott heard heavy and fast footsteps behind him and he recognized the familiar scent of sweat-soaked Indian cotton scarf that Isaac wore. "Scott, no!" he saw his beta's golden eyes glowing in the distance. Scott wanted to ask what was wrong when he felt his body move against his will. It was like he was paralyzed and was being forced to watch a movie with shaky shooting. It almost felt like a found film type kind of film, like the Blair Witch Project.

Suddenly, there was rustling in the wood and Scott felt his body run after the coyote even though he willed his body to stop. He didn't want to hunt down the coyote because Isaac told him that it might just be Malia. But there was a part of him that allowed it.

Scott really did want to stop—he's against any type of violence and he wouldn't want to hurt any animal or human or anything, really—but there was a part of him that wanted to go after the coyote because he wanted to kill. It wasn't strong, because Scott knew that he could control it and he could bear with it, but it was like a bad gut feeling that wouldn't really go away. It wasn't too much but it was noticeable and he hated himself for feeling that way.

Scott chided himself as he tried to stop himself from hunting down and hurting the coyote. He's a true alpha and he's not going to start being one with killing.

Suddenly, his body stopped. Scott sighed in relief, thinking that he finally regained control when suddenly, Scott threw ran towards the edge of the cliff and took the coyote with him, falling some ten feet before plunging into the cold water of a lake.

For a few seconds, Scott felt like drowning but his body resurfaced and marched towards the shallow ends, his chest heaving. He didn't know why his body suddenly jumped off into a lake but it was obvious that his body didn't feel any pain but he did. Every step his body took hurt him, like he had a sprain that wouldn't heal and it was odd enough because he can't get sprains—he's a werewolf—but the fact that he was feeling it while he couldn't control his body, while his body seemed to be unscathed by the ten feet drop and yet his mind ached when his head hit the water first.

Scott heard rustling and then there was this sharp ringing in his ears, the pain of his bones breaking becoming noticeable again. Scott's body, though, as he could feel it, didn't even react. It's like his mind was a different state altogether, like he was a different person altogether.

Scott groaned in pain even though his body kept standing straight and still. A part of him wondered that, if answering the riddle gave him back his vision, then what if killing the coyote would give him back the control of his own body? Scott wondered that if he killed the coyote, would the pain stop? Would his bones cease to snap and break in half?

Isaac's voice rang in his mind, remembering what he had said in the clearing. "Scott, I think the dirty coyote is Malia," his beta said but they didn't have definite proof that the coyote was Malia Tate. And if ever, wouldn't that make her a killer? Scott saw the coyote's eyes, flashing ice blue which meant it killed before. Remembering the Code the Argents used, then he has a reason to kill. Maybe it's not even Malia, Scott thought to himself, justifying his thoughts when he began walking towards the coyote.

Nearing the coyote, which was actually limping, Scott's shoelaces got caught on something. Looking down to free himself, Scott saw something—his irises were glowing blood red, like how an alpha's eyes normally would, but his sclera was pitch black, something like a demon's eyes would be like.

Demons.

Scott tried to remember when he had heard it before—

He was suddenly tackled to the ground and in the distance, Scott saw the coyote running away. Finally, his body—and not just his mind—ached and saw Isaac on top of his body. His beta had tackled him to the ground, so it seems. "We don't," Isaac began, saying in between breaths. "We don't. . .go around," Isaac breathed in deep before regaining his composure, helping him up to his feet. "We don't go around killing the people we need to help," Scott raised a brow.

"What?" Scott still felt the pain and slowly, everything was getting blurry. "I don't—what happened?" suddenly, darkness enveloped him and the next thing Scott knew was that he was being carried back to the entrance of the camping grounds of the Preserve where his bike was parked at alongside with Stiles' Jeep and Allison's Prius.

Isaac eventually left him to get him to stand on his own, and after a few minutes losing balance, Scott managed to stand on his own.

"Did we find Lydia's phone?"