When Scott couldn't hear Stiles' heartbeat, his mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. Gripping the first aid more tightly, he dashed back to the bathroom and nearly tore the door off of its hinges as he shoved it open.

Stiles was gone.

Scott's felt all of his blood rush up into his head as it seared with heat and panic. He looked around wildly, and immediately fixated on the drops of blood on the floor near the sink, right next to Scott's discarded jacket and Stiles' shirt. Dropping the first aid, he went over and crouched next to it. The blood had congealed onto the floor, which wasn't surprising. It was still terrifying, though; did one of Stiles' wounds reopen? He told him that he would be back, so where did he go?

Scott nearly jumped when his phone rang. It vibrated in his hand as he pulled it out of his pocket, playing "Hungry like the Wolf". Stiles had jacked Scott's phone one day and made it his personal ringtone. Scott hadn't bothered to change it, and was now relieved to hear the damn song play.

"Stiles?" he asked, answering it.

"Close," said the voice, "but he is here with me. Still unconscious, I'm afraid."

Scott grew cold at those words, and all remaining warmth drained from his body. Surprisingly, his hand holding his phone was steady, his heart mirroring the calmness.

"Peter."

"Scott," the older werewolf replied, and Scott could practically see the calculating smile on his face. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Where is he?" Scott interrupted, struggling to keep his voice even.

Peter sighed heavily on the other end. "Cutting straight to the point, Scott? What do you have against idle chitchat?"

"Where. Is. He?" Scott growled, and he felt his vision bleed red.

"This sudden affection for Stiles is charming, Scott. Last time we spoke it had been Allison this and Allison that. You've grown past your childish first love. That's a good sign."

Peter was stalling to garner anger, and Scott knew it. But it was difficult to stay calm with Stiles missing and with Peter in possession of his phone Scott was able to put two-and-two together.

"Don't make me ask again."

"I'm not, you're doing that yourself."

The last bit of self-restraint smouldered away, and Scott gritted his teeth. "Tell me where he is or I swear to God—"

"Patience, sweetheart," Peter replied coolly. "It's a virtue."

It didn't make any sense; why did Peter take Stiles in the first place? Scott hadn't spoken nor been in his presence for months now. Peter had made no attempt to contact him during that time, so why now?

"I want to help you," Peter finally said. Scott must've spaced out for a moment; he barely registered that the conversation was still going on. His mind was screaming StilesStilesStilesStilesStiles, making his thoughts go fuzzy and numb as they melded into one name.

"And how are you going to do that?" Scott demanded. He winced as the school bell shrilled in the hallways, and his senses went into overload from the hundreds of bodies exiting the classrooms and clamouring just outside the bathroom door. "By pissing me off by kidnapping my best friend?"

"You're a clever boy Scott," said Peter slyly. "Clever and a little… unhinged as of late. I know that we haven't been keeping in touch, but even I tend to notice when something's amiss. Your sidekick smells like hunted game as of late, thanks to those adorable nicks and scratches he's been receiving from a certain someone. You've done quite the number on his back.

"I think you can easily guess how I want to help you. It's a lesson in control, something you've been lacking. I don't want to blame you entirely, but it's your responsibility to acquire an anchor of sorts to keep you grounded."

"I already know that," Scott growled, but he felt his chest constrict all the same. He knew what Peter was implying the moment he said the words.

Stopthisstopthisstopthisstopthisstop—

He felt his grip on his body lessen, and struggled as the other, sinister side of him wrestled for control. Scott felt himself being mentally shoved to the sidelines as a laugh erupted from his throat.

"You really think that's going to work?" Scott sneered, his mouth twisting into a dark smile. He huffed out a short, cold laugh, even though his mind—his actual self, not this demonic voice that constantly took over—was screaming at him to stop. "I figured out your little plan in seconds, Peter. Do you know how many times that stupid kid's been ripped from safety without Scotty noticing? Let's see… there was that infamous lacrosse game, for example. How's this time going to be any different?"

"For one," Peter replied calmly, as if he never noticed the change of inflexion in Scott's voice, "I'm directly telling him the circumstance. Last time was a private meeting between Stiles and I."

"Scott's not home right now," Scott hissed. "But I guess I could take a message from you. Doesn't mean that I'll relay it to him later."

"Who am I talking to?"

Scott grinned, baring his teeth venomously. "His better side. The one that'll keep him alive as long as he obeys like a good little boy."

"He tends to be rebellious against authority figures," Peter said politely. "You've inherited quite a handful." It was as if they were discussing a harmless, disobedient child instead of a young man capable of tearing his high school into bloody shreds on a dangerous whim.

Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's nothing I can't handle. But his guilty conscience does getting annoying at times. He prevents me from taking over because of that little handjob you yanked from right under his nose. He makes an excellent whetstone for my claws; I don't know what Scotty sees in him."

"That's where you and I think differently on the matter," replied Peter. "I find Stiles to be fascinating."

"If you like him that much, you can try and keep him."

Scott could practically see the older werewolf raise an eyebrow at that statement. "Try?"

"Yeah," Scott said savagely. "I only ever liked him because I got to hear Scotty sob over his human frailty. But that was when it was on my terms. Now that you have him, well, I don't like that at all. What's mine is mine and all that. I could just leave Stiles to your mercy, but that would be on your terms, wouldn't it?"

"Leaving Stiles with me isn't my goal," Peter said.

Scott laughed, tossing the phone lightly in the air before grabbing it with his other hand. He pressed it to his ear before grabbing Stiles' shirt off the tiles and stood up. "Isn't it? You said you found him fascinating, but in what way were you implying?"

"Certainly not in the same way that you are."

"Oh really?" Scott muttered. He inhaled the scent of Stiles before dropping the garment back onto the floor. "What, are you one of those insane people that like him for his mind?"

"I think we're getting off track," Peter said evenly. "What I need is for Scott to come to the location that I'll text to him after this call."

"For your lesson, right?"

"Exactly."

Scott shook his head. "I don't know, Peter. It seems like whatever option I choose, you come out on top. I go there, and you'll try to exorcise me from poor, pathetic Scotty. I ignore this obvious trap, and you have Stiles all to yourself."

"But I know you won't allow that," Peter replied. "What's yours is yours."

"True," Scott said darkly. "And I hate the idea of sharing my toys with you."

"Then it's settled," Peter said victoriously. "I'll see you in one hour. Try to be on time; it would be unfortunate on Stiles' part if you arrived late."

After he heard the familiar beep of the call ending, Scott sank to his knees, staring at the cold tiles. He was back in control it seemed. Hot tears gathered in his eyes, ones that he hastily wiped away with the back of his hand.

He had heard the entire conversation, and his stomach heaved unpleasantly. His phone vibrated in his hand, and Scott looked down. Peter was true to his word; the address was barely twenty minutes away by car.

"Scott?"

The young werewolf whipped his head around. Allison was standing in the doorway, biting her lip warily as she watched him.

Her eyes glinted with that hungry look of a hunter.

Allison isn't like them, Scott told himself, and was surprised by how truthful that statement was. He felt ashamed that he ever doubted her good intentions, and allowed himself to be touched as Allison crouched down next to him and gently took the phone from his grasp.

"It's too formal for Stiles," she said simply. She sounded business-like, but her professional demeanour crumbled once she saw the broken look on Scott's face.

"This is all my fault," Scott whispered.

"No Scott," Allison reassured him. She cupped his cheek with her free hand, turning his head ever so slightly so that their gazes locked. "I'm sorry for saying those things earlier. It's just… Stiles is my friend and he thinks he's invincible, but the truth is—"

"Peter took him because I can't control myself," Scott interrupted. His eyes briefly turned gold before returning to their soft brown. "It feels like a trap—no, I know it's a trap. Peter understands how my brain works better than anyone. He threatens the people I love to keep me in line, and I hate playing into his hands this way, but—"

"It's Stiles," Allison finishes, and gives him a sad smile. "I know how it feels, to do things for the people I love."

Scott was grateful in that moment that Allison was there. His hands ceased their trembling as he slowly rose to his feet.

"I have to go," he said. Scott had already memorized the address. Running on all fours would be the quickest way.

"Running doggy style through the woods is going to alert someone," Allison said, as if reading his mind.

Doggy style? God, that was the type of lame joke that Stiles would be making.

"I don't have a car," Scott said, "and besides, Peter would hear the engine from a mile away. I don't want to alert him, even if my plan was to crash through the wall and run him over."

"Your way will look feral to my dad and other hunters that wouldn't think twice about shooting you in the head," Allison argued. "Besides, I'm not letting you go alone. Two is better than one, and a couple of arrows in the knees should slow Peter down." She folded her arms across her chest, giving him a confident smirk.

Scott slowly nodded. It had taken him a while to accept the fact that Allison could take care of herself. He couldn't help the protective feelings he still had—will always have—for her safety.

"We have less than an hour," Scott said.

"My supplies is already in my trunk," Allison grinned.