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The first time Scott heard about what was happening to Derek, he didn’t take it well. In fact, he did everything he could do to deny it. There was just no way it was happening. After Allison, after Aiden, after Erica and Boyd and all those other people who died, he just would not have Derek dying on him, too.
Just no.
He laughed it off, even though everybody could see his facade as plain as a day. He didn’t try to talk to Derek about it, either. It just wasn’t going to happen.
As the days passed, and the pack fell deeper and deeper into the clutches of the Benefactor, only scarcely escaping his assassins, it was slowly creeping in on Scott’s mind, that losing Derek was becoming a possibility. Derek’s eyes didn’t glow anymore. Scott hadn’t seen him turn into his wolf form, in almost two weeks. Even when the situation warranted it.
When Peter betrayed them, Derek said not a word, though the entire pack expected him to break out in a fury. Instead, Scott was the one who lost his mind. He broke every furniture that could be broken. Liam, who was with him in his room, when they got the news, didn’t recover from the sight of his usually calm and confident alpha lose his control like that, for almost a week.
Only Stiles and Lydia understood, what Peter’s betrayal really meant. Kate had the ultimate ally now. The chances of finding out the cure out of Kate’s mouth, was now extremely remote.
And then, one day, Scott couldn’t smell the wolf in Derek at all. The transition was over, completely.
He fought the urge to reach out to Derek, to seek him out, to talk to him, to plead him to stay out of the fights and stay safe. The older man couldn’t heal anymore. He was no better than Stiles, now. At least, Stiles was used to being a human, and Derek was not. Growing up as a werewolf, the word“self-defense” meant nothing to him. Scott quashed his desire to plain out beg Derek, to leave Beacon County - anything, so that he wouldn’t have to get injured.
But, he couldn’t do that. It would mean Lydia was right. It would mean that he was accepting Derek’s death. He wouldn’t.
And, then one night, when Scott was fending off one of the assassins, this time their math substitute teacher, who was at the moment, wielding a scythe, ready to sink it into his skin, shoulder to abdomen, a dark figure flung itself between them, and covered Scott from the blow.
Scott was howling even before the sharp end had pierced Derek’s shoulder.
No, no, no, no, no, NO!
There was blood, everywhere. Scott could see very clearly, as if things were happening in a slow motion. Derek was writhing in pain. He was struggling to keep his green eyes open.
“Please, please, please, Derek,” said Scott, his voice a low whine, but jaws barred as if to command Derek into living. “You have to live, please. Please.”
Scott sucked the pain from him, but as he did, more pain followed. There was no end to it.
“You shouldn’t have come!” said Scott. He was yelling, and tears were pouring out of his eyes. But his vision didn’t blur. He could see Derek’s tortured face - every detail of it. He wasn’t breathing right. His chest was heaving.
Away from them, Kira and Liam were occupying the math teacher. Liam had wolfed out completely and was dishing out blow after blow, that didn’t look too good for the old assassin. In another time, Scott would have been proud of his pup.
Derek was trying to say something.
“So-sorry.” Derek was struggling less now. His eyes were becoming dull.
“No,” said Scott, yelling. “NO! I can’t lose you Derek. I can’t! Don’t die, Derek, please. Please!”
“It....will be....fine,” said Derek, his voice barely above a whisper. He had little time left. Scott knew that. He could hear the heartbeat slowing down.
The assassin was down, his head rolling off in a pool of blood. Liam still hadn’t learnt how to hold back his power. Scott wouldn’t have asked him to.
The entire pack surrounded them. Lydia and Stiles were beside them, too. Lydia knelt, and took Derek’s hand in hers. “Scott?” she said, voice trembling.
Scott wouldn’t look away from Derek. He couldn’t. He was holding Derek, and it would be the last time he would ever hold him.
Why didn’t I do it sooner? Why did I push him away? Why didn’t I tell him how much he meant to me?
Because he had known all along, that something like this was going to happen. Because he had thought, if Derek didn’t know how he felt, it wouldn’t be as real. And, Scott wouldn’t have to suffer if something happened to Derek. Because he was a coward. Because he was stupid, so stupid, stupidstupidstupid STUPID!
Self loathing and hatred filled Scott, and his guts twisted with the agony of guilt.
“No,” he said, like a madman, clutching to his mantra “you can’t die, Derek. You can’t die.”
Derek, raised his hand a little, and Scott caught it. He brought it to his wet, sticky face, and felt the inside of what should have been a warm hand.
Why didn’t I do this sooner? He wished he could stay there, Derek’s hand cupping his face like that, forever. He was engulfed in Derek, like that. It was just him and Derek in this world, just those green eyes that were looking at him, and the slow, strained, uneven heartbeat he could feel. There was nothing else beside that, in this world. He would never let go.
Scott felt the hand twitch, the briefest of movement, and he saw, Derek smile. A small smile. That soon became slack.
Then, Derek closed his eyes.
Lydia inhaled sharply, shocked more than anything. Somebody jerked into motion beside him, and Scott felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Scott, buddy -”
A sharp, shrieking howl pierced through the sky, ringing like an eerie omen, and everybody in the town, that night, would have heard it still echoing for hours to come. It was pain, pure pain that everybody felt emanating from Scott. Nobody knew what to do.
They saw their alpha jerk, violently - back and forth, back and forth like in a trance. He was a possessed man. His eyes were closed, fangs bared to the night and still howling. His hands were shaking Derek like he was a sack of feather. He didn’t seem conscious of his claws sinking in, nor the blood that was spurting out of the prone body, like a low spring from the pierced holes. With each millisecond that passed, their own grief was put aside, and it all gave way to sheer panic.
Before Stiles and Lydia, who were both very close to the pair could even understand what Scott doing, much less stop it, Scott suddenly stopped howling. He looked around at the remaining pack, watched them as they stood still, not breathing a word. He took a deep, stretched breath like it cost him all he had left and fell forward onto Derek.
Then, Scott bit him.