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There’s something about Scott McCall, about his inherent goodness, about the way he refuses to let himself become a monster. Derek knows why it makes him uncomfortable, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
He sees it in the way Scott’s face falls after being told that he has to kill someone to get his life back, in the way that his heartbeat narrates the battle in his head.
Derek can feel the regret and guilt in Scott with every passing death, can see the way the unwilling hero grows more and more desperate for a way out. But he never lets the goodness falter.
It frustrates him to no end how Scott stubbornly refuses to take the easy way out, to just go along with him. This beta, this boy, has such a strong sense of right and wrong, stronger than Derek, and it makes him uncomfortable and makes him yearn for more at the same time.
Scott doesn’t listen to him, not about Allison. Or Lacrosse. Or Stiles. Or the alpha. There’s a mile long list of things that Scott needs to do if he wants to live. But he holds on to the things that Derek can’t, and even though failure or death is somehow imminent, he can’t help but root for Scott McCall.
The look Scott gives him when he shows up in the locker room (he’s still so young), when he tells him that he’s on Peter’s side, when he talks about Laura, is so piercing. They weren’t even on the same side, not really, but the betrayal on Scott’s face makes him wonder if maybe they were. He can’t even look at the pain in Scott’s still gold eyes.
After he kills Peter, after his eyes start glowing red and he feels like he has all the power in the world, everything feels different except Scott. The beta is half irritated, and half-relieved that Derek had killed Peter so he couldn’t (wouldn’t have to). But Scott doesn’t immediately join his pack, and it hurts.
He’s only half-aware of what he’s doing when he offers to turn Isaac. He thinks of all these excuses, like that Isaac’s better off now, or that he wanted it, but he knows, and Isaac knows, and Scott knows, that none of this was for anything except to try and fill the hole in him. It didn’t even work.
That night, with Isaac shivering on his floor, a broken fugitive, he pretends that it isn’t Scott’s voice in his head telling him that he is just like Peter.
He sweet-talks Erica almost as easily as he did Isaac, because really, they’re all teenagers, and they just want to be loved. Somewhere in him, the part that Scott sees some sort of redeeming qualities in, tells him that this is wrong, that he’s taking advantage of a kid who wants a way out, who doesn’t know what he’s getting into. But he slides his hand up her leg like he cares about what happens to her. His smile is sickening even to him, but she takes it anyway, and he doesn’t feel guilty at all.
Boyd is smart enough to figure it out and come to him. At this point, he’s not about to turn down another beta, especially a strong, smart, willing boy. He gives him the bite minutes before Scott shows up.
Scott pleads with them to leave Boyd alone, and he’s angry. He’s never seen Scott angry, not directly at him, and he knows that it’s something that Isaac and Erica have never seen, have never expected to see. Scott beats them back, but he takes no pleasure in it. He moves to protect Boyd, to protect a boy he barely knows from a fate he didn’t want.
Derek hates and loves the rush of power he gets when Scott crashes to the ground, and again when he crushes his throat underneath his boot. Scott chokes and struggles to breathe, even after Derek let up, and when he reaches back for an inhaler, it doesn’t break him. Even spitting blood onto the ice, Scott still calls out to Boyd, giving him every possible warning.
“I want to be like you.” Boyd says before he follows Derek, and he can hear Scott stop trying so desperately to breathe.
They’re tentatively working together, and Scott doesn’t mention what happened at the ice rink. The bonds between them aren’t completely broken, but they’re hanging in shreds like that boy the monster ripped into. He hates the way Scott is so insistent on working with everybody, but staying with no one, refusing to be part of a pack. Refusing to be part of his pack.
So they’re dealing with a Kanima. It’s not like he didn’t expect something like this. But some part of him, lost in a fire, thinks about how the Kanima might be saved.
“I’ll be a part of your pack. But we do it my way.” As their uneasy alliance grows, it’s like he’s the Grinch, and his heart grows with it.
It’s been two days since they started working together, and everything is better and worse at the same time. Scott remains insistent on saving anyone, even Jackson, who’s killed innocents, and was a complete asshole to begin with.
“Save him.” Scott says, argumentative as ever, but something warm bursts in his chest when he agrees. Isaac walks in afterwards and when Scott says, “I don’t trust him,” he realizes that this alliance is between him and Scott.
It should feel wrong, pushing his pawns toward the fight like they’re nothing, but he’s only a knight on this chessboard, and the Kanima’s a queen. But Scott’s a castle, defensive and solid, and if he wants him, he can’t feel guilty when he leads the way to what shouldn’t feel like a battle, but completely is.
And then there’s a redheaded bitch of an Argent trying to kill Scott for his love, and he sees red and bites her fast, so fast, so that he can get Scott out.
It’s the middle of the night, and he’s leaning over Scott on a vet’s table, along with a billion other people who are in love with him. And he vows to do better.
He knows that he really won't.