A/N: Bit of a shorter chapter this time. Only the epilogue is left! Warning for violence in this chapter too, still not super graphic.
Scott had never been more terrified in his life. He was running alongside Derek, on his way to hopefully save his best friend's life. "Please be okay," he muttered as he ran, not caring that Derek could hear what he was saying.
"He'll be fine, Scott," Derek responded. "Stiles is tougher than he looks. You know that better than anyone."
Derek was right, and Scott knew it. Stiles was only human, but he had survived just as much, if not more, than the rest of them. He was best friends with a true alpha werewolf, and he fit right in with the rest of the pack. He had survived being possessed by a Japanese demon, and had even come out stronger. He would be okay.
He had to be okay.
"We're almost there," Derek said a few minutes later, and Scott saw the house in front of them. The house where Stiles was being kept, probably injured, maybe even…
"Scott," Derek said harshly, pulling Scott out of his thoughts. "You need to focus. It's going to be hard, but you need to stay in control. You won't be able to help Stiles if you can't control your power. Got it?"
Scott nodded, taking a deep breath. "Got it." He looked at the house now directly in front of them and tried to prepare himself. He could do this. He had to do this.
"Go," Derek said simply, and Scott went.
He approached the house slowly, pushing open the door, which squeaked when he entered. Slowly, slowly, he walked through the house to the door of the basement. Scott froze in front of the door, not wanting to find out what would be at the bottom. Last time he had gone down those stairs, only the day before, he had found his best friend with a knife to his throat. Now he was afraid that he would find something even worse.
Bracing himself for the worst, Scott pushed open the door and began to climb down the stairs. He knew from the previous day that he wouldn't be able to see into the room until he was about halfway down, so he moved quickly, wanting to see Stiles sooner rather than later. When Scott was finally able to see into the room, he froze.
"No," he gasped, suddenly unable to breathe. It felt like the entire world had fallen out from under him. In an instant, he felt empty, like he was missing something important that he didn't even know he had.
Stiles was in the same chair, still tied to it with rope. But this time, his head was slumped forward, resting on his chest. His face was covered in bruises, and so were his arms. But the worst part was the blood.
The scent of blood in the room was almost overwhelming, and all of it came from Stiles. His arms, his legs, his chest… Scott saw multiple cuts, especially on his arms and chest, and also noticed the stab wound in Stiles' leg that explained the phantom pain Scott had felt earlier.
Stiles looked dead, and probably was. With so much blood loss, Scott didn't know how he could still be alive.
Suddenly spurred to action, Scott ran down the rest of the stairs. He didn't have a plan anymore, he just knew that he had to get to Stiles. As he ran, he howled. It was a sound of true agony, a sound born of losing the person who means the most.
Because Scott realized in that moment what Stiles really meant to him. He was his best friend, his brother, his everything. And he knew that he didn't want to live in a world that Stiles wasn't a part of.
Suddenly, before Scott could reach Stiles, Blake stepped out of the shadows.
"Ah, Scott," he said, sounding relaxed, "I was hoping you would show up soon."
"Fuck off," Scott growled, struggling to stay in control. The wolf was rearing up, looking for the opportunity to kill the person who had killed a member of its pack.
Blake just chuckled darkly. "I'm sorry about Stiles, really. I was hoping that he would stay alive until you got here, but that's alright. We don't need him anymore."
Scott clenched his fist, feeling his claws digging into his palm. "Why did you kill him?" he asked, agonized. "He didn't need to be a part of this."
"Ah, but he was," Blake responded with a chilling smile. "You see, it was because of him that you hesitated. I don't know how, but he persuaded you to leave. And then, just yesterday, my sister killed herself because she couldn't stand the idea of being a monster." The smile slipped, and Blake's face darkened. For an instant, he looked like the man he really was- a man willing to kill teenagers. "If it hadn't been for Stiles' intervention, you would have agreed to my demands and she would still be alive today."
Scott swallowed. Knowing that Blake's sister had killed herself made it obvious that Blake had snapped. "So why do you need me now?" he asked, trying to stay in control. He could still prevent more bloodshed.
But just as Blake opened his mouth to reply, Derek Hale burst into the room.
For a moment, Scott had forgotten what the plan was. He had been so caught up in grief and hatred and overwhelming emotion that the howl had been ripped out of him- he had forgotten that it would also call Derek.
In one leap, the older werewolf was down the stairs and standing at Scott's side. Scott heard Derek's heartbeat stutter as he saw Stiles, but Derek was in perfect control in only seconds.
Derek's eyes flipped to Scott for a moment, and then back to Blake. "He's alive, Scott," Derek said quietly, so that only Scott could hear. "Listen."
For the second time since arriving in the house, Scott stopped breathing. Alive? There was no way Stiles could be alive. But if Derek said he was… Scott strained his ears, listening for heartbeats. There was his, and he recognized Derek's, and another that had to be Blake. And then, when he listened even harder, Scott heard a fourth heartbeat. It was sluggish and wrong, but it was there. Stiles was alive.
"You've made a mistake," Derek was saying calmly, staring right at Blake. "If you had really done your research, you would know that a werewolf will do anything to protect its pack. Scott may be the alpha now, but I am part of his pack." He paused, glancing at Stiles, who was completely still in the chair. "And so is Stiles," he finished, and then he lunged.
For a moment, Scott was frozen. But then he remembered what Derek had said before they left- Scott's responsibility was Stiles, and only Stiles. So when Derek lunged for Blake, Scott did the same for Stiles. Scrambling, he grasped at the ropes holding his brother to the chair. He could hear Derek growling and Blake shouting behind him, but he ignored that. He needed to get Stiles free. While he worked, Scott let his hands brush over Stiles' bloody skin. He was hoping to ease some of the pain, but to his horror, there was nothing for him to take.
In an instant, Scott was transported back to the day Allison had died. He had tried to take her pain that day, but she hadn't felt any.
Scott knew that Stiles was dying, just as Allison had been. He wasn't dead yet, but he would be soon. Very soon.
Just as he pulled the last rope free, Scott heard a scream. He jumped up and turned around, terrified to see what would be in front of him.
Derek's was bleeding slowly from a few cuts on his arms and chest, but those were already starting to heal. But his hand, his claws, were thrust into Blake's stomach.
"DEREK!" Scott screamed, running forward.
Before Scott could reach him, Derek removed his hand and Blake slumped bonelessly to the ground. Derek turned to face Scott, eyes blazing blue. "It's over, Scott," he said calmly, blood dripping from his hand. "He's not going to hurt you or Stiles again."
Scott felt sick. He hadn't wanted this. He never wanted these things to end in blood, never wanted them to end in violence, never wanted them to end in death. "You didn't have to… you didn't have to kill him," he said, quietly.
Derek looked at him intently for a moment, and then replied, "Yes, I did. A guy like him… He wouldn't have been okay with letting you both go. Especially Stiles. He was so close to killing Stiles, he wouldn't stop until he was dead. It would have driven him even more insane than he already was, knowing that he was so close."
"Stiles might still die," Scott responded, feeling like all his strength had left. He felt empty. He knew that he needed to get help, needed to do something about Blake's body, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. Derek was looking at him with compassion, eyes back to their normal color. "Call you mom," he said softly. "Tell her that Stiles needs to get to a hospital immediately. I'll call Chris. He can figure out how to clean this up." Derek dropped his hand, turning his gaze to Stiles. "He'll be okay," he added, as if he was trying to reassure himself.
Scott swallowed and nodded, his eyes stinging, and pulled out his phone.
It was over.