Work Text:
He was dead – and then he wasn’t.
He couldn’t really explain what being dead felt like. He shouldn’t be able to feel anything in the first place. After all, that was what dead was about, wasn’t it? Ending the feelings and pleasures and hurtings, ending it all. Dying was the end of being.
Scott knew now that it was a lie.
Ever since he became a werewolf, ever since he found out about the supernatural, he doubted every single thing he had believed in. What were physics laws to people who could shift into wolves? Did the natural selection even apply to people whose senses alerted them that something dangerous was about to happen? Everything seemed to pale when one took the supernatural into consideration.
Yet he never doubted death. It had taken away people he loved, it had taken their enemies. It took without caring who is on which side, took without considering how much it will hurt. Death was always a possibility. Death was a constant, one of the very few certainties he had.
Until now. Now, he found the foundations of his beliefs slowly crumbling down.
Because Scott had been dead. He should be dead. But somehow he was still living. Still standing, still fighting.
And he remembered every single moment of those fifteen minutes he was dead.
He remembered being surrounded by nothingness. Remembered not being able to see or hear or touch because there was nothing . No sensation, no perception, no darkness he could try to navigate in, just plain nothingness that made him feel like he was losing his mind.
He could never forget the pain that passed through his whole body. The fatal wound Theo had inflicted on him was its centre. The pain spread through the veins, seeping into his muscles and bones. Digging deeper and deeper, stinging, burning, reminding him that there was no salvation for a being like him.
Just pain and solitude.
Coming back to life shook Scott to the core and he found himself unable to adapt. People say that when it all ends, you get what you deserve. They believe in this statement because it’s their only hope that all the wrongness that has been done will be repaired in one way or the other. Scott used to believe in it too. He had seen how supernatural forces work, and had had faith that the invisible, fateful scales were there to make everything right at the end.
He was wrong.
Or maybe he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.
It wasn’t fair. Scott went through what dead felt like, yet the experience was just as unpleasant as being alive.
It seemed that no matter the outcome, Scott was destined to suffer.
He found himself spiraling. With every passing day, his mind was more and more resembling the nothingness he’d experienced. There was darkness around his heart, surrounding and enclosing, soaking through. It poisoned his blood, his mind, his heart, making him forgot how it feels to be alive, how it feels to live, how it feels to feel .
In that fifteen minutes, Scott lost a part of himself. He never realized just how far and deep his inner demons went. Not until he died and they tried to hold him in their realm.
Though maybe the most scaring part of it all was that Scott let them take him. He stopped fighting when he felt the realities shift, and he didn’t fight when the darkness overcame him.
He accepted it. Because deep down, it felt right. It felt deserved.
(It was, wasn't it?)
He didn't know how his mom managed to bring him back, though maybe she never really did. Not completely at least.
There was a certain part of him that stayed there . And it made him wonder, it made him question, where was truly his place.
He didn't know how he revived, because he didn't know why . No one even noticed he was dead.
No one noticed the pack bonds snapping. No one but him.
There was little holding him in this world. He'd lost everything and everyone; his pack, his best friend, his family. He brought death and suffering wherever he went, breaking every soul that dared to come close. They hated him almost as much as he hated himself.
He was alive, but he never left the solitude. He was standing and breathing, fighting, but it was nothing like living.
Scott came back from the dead but maybe he should have stayed there.