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The Jeep getting totaled had been a blow, on top of everything else. Scott missed that wreck, if only because of the memories it had going for it. But now that Stiles was a shifter, it was less of an issue - Scott could run, and he knew Stiles could keep up. More than, in fact. Foxes were fast.
So after lacrosse, the two of them went straight for the preserve, to meet the other two for a full shift training session. But Scott didn't feel like hurrying. He had some things he wanted to talk to Stiles about, before they got there.
"So, we okay?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah?" Stiles responded, raising his eyebrows in concern. "I mean, I think so. Why wouldn't we be?"
"Well, with the whole... me biting you thing."
Stiles smiled like lightning. "Dude, yeah, I'm totally on board the werebeast train, glad you literally saved my life, and happy to officially be part of the pack."
Scott frowned a little. "You know you've always been part of my pack, right?"
"Well, yeah, but not, like really."
"Like really, Stiles." Scott nudged him in the shoulder as they walked. "I could never have a pack that didn't have you in it."
"Don't get all mushy on me now," Stiles said, but Scott could hear his smile and smell his happiness. After a moment, Stiles asked, "Okay, what else is this about?"
Scott wasn't sure if it was part of the supernatural sense of smell thing, or just the way Stiles had always been able to read him like a book. "Are you and Malia okay?" he asked. "Do you need anything?"
Stiles didn't reply right away, so Scott scrutinized his face, the smell of his mood. They were both sort of... tangled up, uncertain. Scott just waited. This was why he'd decided on this stroll.
"Is this how being a wolf is?" Stiles asked. "Do you just know things down to your spleen that you had to guess at before, because man, it's weird. Like, Malia is hot. Obviously. Incredibly hot. And incredibly... intense. Like, man, wow. And smart, and determined, and you know I really like her. You know that, right? That it was never just that she was there and hot and in need of human contact and wanting me for some unknowable reason?"
Scott nodded. Stiles, he didn't do casual, not even in his crushes. Scott had had to listen to so much, not just about Lydia's hair and face and figure and sense of color, but also about her confidence and ruthlessness, the classes she took, how she took her notes and how she doodled. And with Malia, he'd gone on about her fighting spirit, how quick she was to catch back up in her classes despite having been a coyote for several grades. He didn't just like them pretty, he liked them sharp as a tack and as brutal as one.
"Yeah, I know," he reassured Stiles.
Stiles sighed in relief and frustration. "So now it's like... all that's still there. I mean I'm still me. I think. But it's just... I look at her and I know her and she's my maybe-girlfriend-person that I love, but now there's smell, too, and there's... there's these tugs. There's one that tells me you're my Alpha. Which it's fine, that's great, it's not like I was gonna go out and find some other boss animal to supervise my furry playtime in the woods. But there's another, and it says... she's not it. And it's not like I had grand plans for us, I hadn't looked at rings or anything. But man. It's nice, having a girlfriend. It's nice to have someone. But I know she isn't it, and it just feels... shitty. Holding onto her, even just for now, feels like a shitty thing to do."
"I know what you mean," Scott told him, and then after a moment's consideration, "Allison was it, for me."
"Fuck, man. That fucking sucks." Stiles bit his lip as he looked at Scott. "Is it worth it? Knowing?"
Scott didn't know whether it was, not really, but he knew what he had to answer. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is."
It was strange, for Scott. He'd definitely been born human. But now here he was, Alpha of a pack, three of whom were born shifters who could make a full shift. So he sat, human but for his red eyes, and watched as a fox, a coyote, and a huge black wolf played in the moonlight, trusting him to call them back to their humanity if they forgot it.
Stiles sniffed around the others, still getting used to his sensitive nose, but fox eyes were their sharpest sense, he still relied on them most, so in a lot of ways, nothing fundamental had changed. Stiles was a fox, and Stiles was Stiles, and it was strange how strange it wasn't. Scott certainly didn't think of himself as particularly wolflike.
Maybe that was why he had come to be the Alpha of these three. Because they needed someone who was, more than anything else, human.
Stiles... he liked to run, he liked to hunt with the other two, but more than anything, he seemed determined to spend most of his time in fox form playing.
It made a kind of sense. Both of the others had spent too much of their time alone in the woods, both had had their childhoods and families ripped from them too early. Their siblings and playmates taken away. Stiles had always had Scott to go on adventures with, even if a lot of those adventures had been video games. Scott's werewolf status was proof enough that some of them weren't. And Scott was happy to watch his friend pay all that forward to the rest of his pack, when they needed it.
Stiles jumped and pounced and annoyed Derek and Malia, never still, and then when they snapped at him, ran, playing bait, playing tag. He enjoyed every minute of it, trusting his packmates not to hurt him.
He pushed Malia a little too far, though, and the coyote snapped at the fox in earnest, catching a forepaw in her strong jaw, drawing blood.
Stiles seemed relatively unconcerned, going limp and looking pointedly up at the coyote, but Derek....
Derek growled like he remembered what it was to be an Alpha.
Malia yipped and bounded away to Scott, who settled a hand on her neck in reassurance. Derek went to Stiles, sniffing him urgently and licking his hurt paw, watching it closely as it healed.
Stiles huffed (Scott could practically hear the "Really?") and prodded Derek with his nose, annoyed by the concern, but eventually he decided just to go with it, and his nosing became reassuring and affectionate.
Derek made a satisfied growl as the tooth marks closed up, and lay down next to Stiles, the protective bulk of his wolf form almost smothering, but Stiles seemed not just resigned to it, but reluctantly pleased.
Running this pack... it seemed to Scott that there was always going to be a new set of complications to deal with. But he would deal with them.
They were his pack.
Stiles and Malia left first that night, arguing loudly as they got back into their clothes, and Derek and Scott stood watching them leave, both proprietary. Both like Alphas.
"Do you mind not being the Alpha anymore?" Scott asked Derek once the other two were far enough away to ignore.
Derek shook his head, a little smirk on his face. "I was never meant to be one. You were right, to refuse to be my Beta. I had no idea what I was doing."
Scott thought about that. "I don't think there's anyone who really knows how to be the Alpha of Beacon Hills right now," he said. "I'm pretty lost myself, and a lot of what I do know, I learned from you."
There was a disagreeing grumble in Derek's voice as he replied. "You're a true Alpha, Scott. You could never have been anyone's Beta, not for long. You were born to be a leader and I was born to be a small part of a larger pack."
"I was born to be a normal human," Scott objected. "So was Stiles, the first time. I've kind of figured out that stuff like that doesn't mean much. You learn to be what you have to be. And you learned to be a pretty good Alpha. Then you had to give that up. Do you ever have second thoughts?"
"If I'd made any other choice," Derek said, "then I wouldn't have been a good Alpha."
Scott smiled at him, granting the point. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you on the way," he said, "but I'm glad to have you in my pack."
"It's a good pack," Derek replied.
"Yeah," Scott agreed. "Yeah, it is."
There was a silence, and Scott waited, because Derek would have started home by now if there weren't something he wanted to talk about, too. It seemed like every day he was getting better at dealing with skittish animals.
"Do you worry less about Stiles, now that he's a shifter?" Derek asked.
"Fuck, no," Scott answered. "He didn't get his tendency to stick his nose in anything dangerous from hanging around with shifters, or being one, but if all that has changed anything, it's made it worse."
"At least he can heal now," Derek contributed somewhat dubiously.
"Yeah, and he knows that, which is unfortunate." Scott paused, thinking. "And if there's anything I've learned these past two years, it's that supernatural creatures don't die any less often than humans."
The silence stretched this time, filling up with memories of deaths, enemies, friends, family.
"I've lost too much pack," Derek said quietly.
Scott nodded. "Stiles is worth it, though," he said.
Derek looked up at the sky. "I know," he said, and turned to walk away.