Confessions

The doctor stepped into the lobby and was promptly met with a room full of fearful and hopeful faces. The Sheriff paced with his hands on the back of his head. A startling blonde girl was clinging to a larger dark-skinned boy. A lanky kid stood next to the pair, head bowed and eyes studying the floor. A boy she vaguely recognized from past photographs as Melissa's son was slumped forward in a chair next to a small redhead who appeared to be staring intently into thin air. There was something about this group that reminded the woman of the teenagers she had left back in Mystic Falls. While their faces vibrated with youth, their eyes all were aged beyond their years.

As soon as Meredith stepped out, every head snapped in her direction. The Sheriff tore toward her with an almost mad spark in his eyes.

"How is he? How's my son?"

Scott stood next, eyes wandering, probably searching for his mother.

"Is he okay?"

Meredith looked at the both of them and felt a weight in her throat. Melissa had informed her how the Sheriff had lost his wife. Scott had also, in a way, lost his father. Behind them, the group of teenagers that looked like they had all just gone through a war were all trained attentively on her.

"We're going to do everything we can," she spoke before she had realized she had consciously made the decision.

"What does that mean?" The Sheriff demanded.

"The blood in his brain has caused an edema - a swelling of the brain tissue. The blood pooled and formed a hematoma. This puts pressure on the brain and kills brain cells and reduces blood flow. We ran imaging tests that confirmed the internal bleeding. Right now, we have him on a cocktail of painkillers, corticosteroids, and diuretics to reduce the swelling and anticonvulsants to treat seizures -"

"Seizures?" Scott swallowed, gripping Lydia's arm.

"He had two while on the table, but the anticonvulsants seem to be working now. We're working to treat him through endovascular therapy. It involves a catheter passed into the blood vessels to avoid brain surgery. I promise, it's not invasive and we have hope that this will work and he won't need the surgery. He's in critical condition right now, but – there – there's a good chance he could still pull through. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to him."

The man nodded tiredly and fell backward into a chair as Meredith rushed in the opposite direction. She rounded a corner and let her back slam against the wall. Stiles wasn't just in critical condition, he was dying. The kid was in a coma, barely hanging on to life and the medical staff knew it was merely a short waiting game from there. The endovascular therapy wasn't working. There was too much swelling. Too much blood. Even surgery would be a moot point. The kid would be dead before he could even be prepped. She had intended to inform the family and friends of her patient to prepare themselves and say their final goodbyes. She had intended to let nature take its course instead of submitting to supernatural meddling. Yet all her intentions went flying out the window when she laid eyes on that waiting room. Too many teenagers had died in Mystic Falls. Too many sons and daughters and friends. She wasn't going to lose a kid her second day on the job.

Closing her eyes, Meredith pushed off of the wall. She was already through the next door when Melissa came hurrying down the hall and into the waiting room. Scott rushed to her. They collided, wrapping arms around each other.

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she traced her fingers through his hair.

"It's okay. He's going to be okay."

"Honey," Melissa pulled away, eyeing her son cautiously, "Stiles – he -"

"I know," Scott shook his head. "I know it's bad. But the doctor said he could pull through."

"She did?"

"And if anyone can pull through and survive, it's Stiles," Scott continued, not hearing his mother. "He's too stubborn to die."

"Of course," Melissa cleared her throat. "No one else is stubborn like Stiles is."

Scott smiled at that and he moved to sit down again next to his friends. Melissa waited until she had turned around to frown, marching off to find her own friend.

"It's late," the Sheriff rubbed long fingers over tired eyes. "You kids should go on home."

"I'm not going anywhere until we know he's okay," Scott shook his head.

"Yeah, speaking of 'we'," the father eyed the teenage group behind his son's best friend and lowered his voice. "Since when did Stiles get so many friends?"

"Well – uh -" Scott glanced at the werewolves, "Isaac, you know, he's on the team and – um – they -"

"It's alright," Erica moved forward and was next to Scott before the latter even realized it. "Boyd and Isaac are my friends and Stiles – he's my boyfriend."

"Your – what?" The Sheriff took a step back, not seeing Lydia and Scott's faces of shock and horror. "My son has a – you're his - ?"

"It happened pretty recently, really. We were going to tell you," the female werewolf lamented with a smooth, curved frown. "We just wanted the time to be right. I'm so sorry – I -"

"It's – it's alright," The Sheriff placed strong hands on the shaking girl's shoulders. "Listen, I'm going to go get some coffee, a lot of coffee. You kids need anything?"

Each of the teenagers shook their heads, watching the man's back intently as he walked away.

"What the holy hell?" Lydia whispered.

"You're welcome," Erica snorted.

"Are you sure it's – you know – safe for us all to be here?" Isaac asked when the Sheriff had finally gotten out of earshot and Erica had slouched back into her spot as if nothing had happened.

"We're safer together," Scott nodded, still eyeing the blonde. "We already decided that."

"What about Derek?" Isaac pressed. "You don't think -"

"Argent wouldn't hurt him. Not after everything tonight," Scott shifted uncomfortably.

"I've been texting Allison," Lydia spoke up. "She wanted to be here, but, you know, considering she nearly killed you all, decided to keep her distance."

"Good," Erica crossed her arms, all feigned softness having fled her features.

"She said they couldn't find Gerard's body-"

"That's comforting," Boyd mumbled.

"And Derek went to make sure Peter didn't kill Jackson – again."

"So he's here," Isaac sighed, relieved.

"I'm sure Jackson's father will be bursting through those doors any moment now with some pretty harsh words for the doctors," Lydia straightened. "He should be making his miraculous recovery any time now."

"Good," Scott sighed. "We need to stick together. How many werewolves did you say you heard?"

"We don't know," Boyd lowered his head. "Derek told us that two werewolves can sound like twelve."

"But it was definitely werewolves this time," Erica assured them. "We could hear them getting closer – and not in a happy meet and greet way – when Isaac found us. We all just ran."

"We don't know if they want to cause trouble," Scott reasoned. "But we should still stay close."

"They definitely sounded like they meant trouble," Isaac folded his arms close to his chest.

"Well, whatever's going on, we can handle it," Scott proclaimed proudly.

"What makes you so sure?" Isaac shrugged. "You're not even part of our pack. You said it yourself. You tricked us."

"I needed to stop Gerard," Scott tried fruitlessly to avoid the boy's betrayed expression. "Derek keeps things from me. All of us. All the time. Thought it was my turn. I'm sorry I lied about joining the pack. It wasn't about you, any of you. It's – different – for me."

"How?" Erica cocked an eyebrow. "We're all dealing with the same shit as werewolves."

"Yeah, except you got a choice." Scott scrubbed long fingers through his hair as he stood and turned on them. "Peter bit me and I had no clue what was going on. I almost hurt Stiles and Allison and Jackson. The only reason Derek finally decided to help me was to find the Alpha that killed his sister, who just happened to be the same one that bit me. I never wanted this, any of it. Derek told me there was this legend. That if you kill the Alpha that bit you, it could cure the bite. I helped him because he promised me he'd help me kill the Alpha so I could be human again. Peter was down. I yelled for Derek to stop, but he didn't listen. He didn't care. All he cared about was his revenge and getting power. He killed Peter and became the Alpha. And I was stuck living a life I never had a say in like you did."

"And then he goes and builds a pack to gain numbers, more power. I'll help Derek if it helps you guys, but I don't want to be his Beta."

"Is that what you think?"

The teens startled at the sudden presence of the Alpha. Really, with a room full of werewolves, you would think that would happen less.

"It's what I know," Scott held his ground once he recovered from the surprise.

"Really?" Derek took a purposeful step in Scott's direction.

"Yes, really," Scott matched his move. "You've only ever come to me when you need help. You don't want me in your pack, not like you should. You want me so you can have another soldier. You were ready to kill Lydia when you thought she was the Kanima. And you were willing to go through Stiles, Allison and Jackson to get to her. Would you have killed them Derek? Or have Erica or Isaac or Boyd do it for you? Jackson turned into a killing machine and practically died. Stiles, my best friend, who's saved your life more than once, is here right now! He could die! He could be dead – he -"

Scott stopped short and whirled around, as if remembering where they all were.

"Stiles – Stiles – I was listening for his heartbeat – but I stopped because – we're fighting – and he's – he's dying – he's -"

Derek grabbed the boy's shoulders as the Beta subtly began to shift right there in the middle of the waiting room.

"Scott!"

The werewolves quickly stood to surround and hide the scene from curious eyes. Lydia moved toward Scott, but Derek held her back with a warning glare.

"Stay back. Go find the Sheriff. Don't let him near here."

Surprisingly, the girl obeyed him and hurried off, a look of warning of her own for the Alpha as she left.

"There's too many!" Scott muttered. "I – I can't find it. I can't hear it. It was so weak. Stiles' heart – I – he -"

"Scott! You need to -"

"Someone find it!" Scott struggled against Derek grip enough that Boyd had to aid in the restraint.

"Scott," Isaac tried, softer than Derek.

"Isaac," Scott gasped, his eyes filling with recognition they hadn't had in the past few moments. "Isaac, please. Find him. I – I can't. I need to go – get away -"

"Bathroom," Erica nodded, "down the hall. Take a right. Hurry."

Derek pulled Scott along with him, past concerned faced staff. Once inside the bathroom, Derek hastily checked the stalls while Scott slid against the wall, slumping to the floor.

"Scott," Derek knelt in front of the beta. "Breathe."

"Stiles -"

"Isaac will find him. The doctors would've told us if something happened. Stiles is alright."

"For now," Scott dropped his head in his hands. "You didn't hear that doctor's heartbeat when she told us. She was scared."

"Scared. Not lying." Derek nodded. "There's still a chance -"

"A chance of what? Of him being okay until the next thing comes? First Peter, then the Argents, Jackson, now another pack? Gerard hurt him, because of me. To get to me. What's to stop someone or something else from doing the exact same thing? Gerard used my mom. Used Stiles. To get to me. The people I care about the most are being hurt, because of me."

"Because of me," Derek corrected. "That's what you said out there. Or is it because of Peter? Or maybe it's Stiles' fault for dragging an asthmatic teenager out into the woods at night."

"No, he – he already – he told me he blames himself. But it's not -"

"Not his fault? Just like what happened to your mom and Stiles isn't yours. It's mine."

"Derek -"

"You were doing such a good job blaming me out there in front of my pack."

"I'm sorry, I -"

"You don't want in my pack, fine. But don't go off telling my pack things you don't even understand."

"What are you talking about?"

Derek paused. He wasn't entirely sure if he was ready to share this with Scott. Or if the young werewolf was ready to hear it. He didn't like this. Being open made you vulnerable. Made you weak. But closing himself off and pushing Scott away had led to the beta betraying him and an innocent human being caught in the crossfire. Stiles was one of the most infuriating people Derek had ever had the displeasure of meeting. And yet, despite his injuries and probable wounded pride, he drove his Jeep through a wall to save them all. Not to mention the void expression on the kid's face right before he dropped back in the warehouse. Stiles had looked, well, dead. The image had jarred something in Derek. He had seen his new pack hurt, but nothing like what had crossed Stiles' features. And then - just for a moment - his heart had stopped. In between being upright and hitting the ground, Stiles' heart had stuttered. Stiles' wasn't pack. He wasn't even a werewolf. And yet, something flared inside Derek when the teenager had fallen. Something that screamed "protect", that screamed "family". Maybe Stiles and Scott were more a part of Derek's pack than they wanted to admit. Maybe Derek thought of them more of pack than he cared to admit. He had already lost his real family. He wasn't about to lose this one too.

"There's something you need to know," Derek started with clenched teeth. "Yes, I tricked you into helping me find the Alpha. But there's more to it. The legend about killing the one that bit you – it's old and there's no proof of it ever having been done. If you had killed Peter, there was a good chance you would've become the Alpha. You already didn't want to be a werewolf. Being an Alpha would've been too much. Not to mention the fact that you're not a killer, Scott. To live with something like that, it changes you."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? And why everything after that? Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Jackson? You had Erica hit Stiles over the head and dump him in a dumpster. You nearly killed Jackson and Lydia."

"There's a power that comes with being an Alpha. I might have – maybe – let it get to my head – a little. When you first become the Alpha, it's like the full moon - all the time."

"Who are you and what have you done to Derek?"

"Shut up. Just listen. I picked Isaac because of his father -"

"And Erica 'cause of her seizures and Boyd because he was lonely. I know all that."

"You think that you know. But did you ever stop and just think for a second? If I wanted power, just power in numbers, why only them? And why them? Why not three more jocks like Jackson? Turning Erica, Isaac and Boyd wasn't just for me. It was for them. To help them."

"And almost getting them killed." Scott rebutted readily.

"You don't want to listen? Fine. But there's something else you should know. Another reason why I didn't let you kill Peter."

Scott paused at that, backing down to allow the Alpha to continue.

"If the legend wasn't true and you had become the Alpha, you would be in danger."

"I'm already in danger every day!"

"Not like what I'm talking about. Something's coming."

"The pack?"

"Pack? What do you know?"

"Erica and Boyd. When they got out of Argent's basement, they heard a pack of werewolves. Not a recording like the Argents used. Isaac heard it too. That's why everyone's here. To stick together."

"Good. We're all going to need to stay together, if we want to survive."

"Survive? You don't think we can handle another pack?"

"It's not just any pack, Scott. I went by the house to grab some supplies before coming here. They left their symbol on the door."

"Symbol?"

Derek ground his teeth. He hadn't planned on telling Scott any of this. He wasn't sure if it was because of his pride, the hurt of Scott's betrayal, or some protective instinct to keep the kid safe. With a sigh, the Alpha lowered his head.

"It's for an Alpha pack."

"A pack – of Alphas – and they're coming here? Why?"

"They're not coming here, they are here."

Scott stared at Derek for a long moment, brain playing catch up with everything the older boy was throwing at him in such a short time.

"What do they want?"

"The Alpha. Me."

Scott's eyes widened in realization as Derek's own wandered toward the wall.

"So, wait. You knew they would come."

"They recruit new Alphas."

"Which, if I would've killed Peter, would've been -"

Derek's gaze snapped to meet Scott's.

"You."

A/N: Yes, Derek and Scott actually communicate in this fic. Imagine that.