CHAPTER 2

"That can't be right," he thought in protest.

Peter's nurse had been a druid and Deaton had assigned her to watch over the comatose Hale.

The realization left Scott reeling.

Had it all gone wrong somehow? Had she betrayed the rest of Deaton's group in favor of the alpha? Or was it worse...everything had gone as planned?

His mind whirled.

Momentarily, he lost his focus...he could feel his claws slipping from the back of Deaton's neck.

"Snap out of it," he thought as he forced himself to concentrate.

Pressing deeper, he connected with Deaton's memories...searching for the one he believed would give him the answers he was looking for.

'He's not able," the woman stated plainly.

"How close is he?" Deaton asked.

Peter's nurse was still dressed in her uniform. Scott noted the twitch in her lips as she answered Deaton.

"He's not even coherent. He shifts, yes...but he's little more than a wild raging beast at this point."

Deaton sighed and walked towards the window of his office.

"I had hoped he would recover faster than this...it's been six long years."

"He's come farther than any human would have, but you wanted the truth, and all I can tell you is that he's not ready...He isn't even aware of his own existence."

Scott recognized Deaton's expression...he was contemplating something...weighing the pros and the cons.

"Maybe we don't need him to be aware," the vet replied.

"What do you mean?" the nurse asked.

Deaton reached into his desk and rummaged through some papers. Finding the right one, he pulled it out, looked it over and handed it to Peter's nurse.

"I need you to send this to Laura Hale...just the picture...nothing else."

"But it's just a picture of deer with a spiral drawn on it...I don't see.." the nurse started.

"She'll know what it means and she'll believe it's from him," Deaton interrupted.

He scribbled on another piece of paper and handed it to her.

"This is her address. When she does come she'll go to the Hale house. That's where you are to bring him."

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head.

"He'll be able to smell it on her...that she's an alpha...instinct will take over and in his state he should take her out quickly. She won't be expecting it."

"Are you sure?" she asked, "He is still just a beta...an injured one at that."

"He's just started to shift after 6 years of not being able to...you said it yourself...he's little more than a wild raging beast...at this point more wolf than man. He will attack and he will win and we'll be one step closer to our goal. We'll have an alpha that can potentially produce a true alpha."

Scott noted the twitch of the nurse's lips again. His gut told him she was not entirely on board with Deaton's plan, nevertheless, she accepted the papers, folded them and placed them in her purse.

"I'll do as you ask Deaton but this better work. If Laura Hale kills Peter this will be over before it begins."

"Thank you, Beverly...and it will work," he replied.

Deaton turned back to the window, seemingly dismissing the nurse. Quietly, she strode out of the veterinarian's clinic and into the cold night air.

"Scott it was for a good reason."

The whisper brought Scott back to the present. Deaton was stirring...begging even to be released, but Scott's claws were firmly embedded in the back of his neck. The young werewolf was now glad he had bound Deaton's hands and feet. Who knew what kind of damage a druid could do when they put their minds to it? Reaching out with his free hand, he grabbed the syringe filled with Sodium pentothal and quickly, injected the veterinarian.

"Scott...don't...please...just let me explain," Deaton mumbled.

"You are explaining," Scott said, flatly.

He was surprised at the deadness in his own voice. Was he being too hard on him?

"Let it go," he thought, "The time for leniency is over...you have to see this through.

While Peter may have been able to break through Deaton's attempts to fight him off, Scott could not.

"All you need to do is practice more."

Peter had said it to him many times and Scott had blown him off more often than not. His protests of it being uncomfortable had been met with rolling eyes, a sarcastic comment, and the older Hale storming off.

Right now he wished he had listened. His lack of experience would mean he would have to wait. His mind began to wander as he waited for the injection to take affect.

"It was me, Scott...you know it was me...you saw me," Stiles whispered.

Scott was shaking. His best friend lay sprawled out before him, blood pouring out of several knife wounds running the length of his arms.

Scott wondered how he could have caused so much damage.

"I don't believe it...you wouldn't do those things, Stiles...you wouldn't...I don't believe it was you," Scott protested. His voice was shaking as badly as his hands.

"Don't deny it buddy...you saw me." Stiles offered a painful smile and Scott felt the sting of hot tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks.

Yes, he had saw Stiles...Stiles with a knife...Stiles with the empty vacant stare...Stiles using the knife...again and again. How many dead? Scott couldn't remember. He didn't want to remember...he wanted to deny...to deny everything. It couldn't be Stiles...not his best friend...not his brother.

"It was me, Scott," Stiles whispered again, "Couldn't live with it."

Scott looked down at Stiles as the blood began to form pools on the ground around him. Instinctively he reached out and pressed against his wounds in a futile attempt to quench the bleeding.

"We'll get you to the hospital, I swear...you're going to be alright."

"It was a wild ride wasn't it?" Stiles smiled weakly.

Scott lowered his head. He was openly sobbing now.

"We'll get you to the hospital...you'll be fine," he protested.

"Let me go Scott...it's time...let me go."

"No...I can't...you're my brother...we're brothers Stiles!"

"Always," Stiles mumbled, "but even brothers have to let go...let me go, Scott...it'll give me peace...do it for me."

Scott slipped his hand into Stiles hand and squeezed. He had lost his will to speak. He simply nodded in response.

"Thank you, Scott" He's words faded away as he eyes glazed over.

Scott didn't resist as he was pulled away...further and further from the scene. He could see Stiles dad screaming as he approached the body of his dead son.

"Stiles...Son...oh God...no!"

But Scott had gone numb. Everything was a blur.

Days came and went and Scott remained the same. The funeral came and all his friends were there...Allison...Isaac...Lydia...Danny. Even Derek and Peter came although they kept their distance choosing to remain at the back of the crowd.

One thought dominated his mind...where's Stiles?

When he peered into the casket then he remembered. Stiles was gone and he wasn't coming back.