Chapter Text
Pain makes you human.
It was one of the first things he’d learned about being a werewolf and one of the first things he’d rebelled against. Derek might have found an anchor in the pain, but Scott had found one in love. He tied himself to that shimmering, breathless rush that was Allison’s heartbeat, the sound of her laugh and the scent of her skin until it was gone and there was nothing left but the beast that threatened to split his skin along the seams.
It was worse now than it had ever been before, the powers of an alpha thrummed in his veins, so much harder to restrain than when he had just been a beta. Everything was just more, his strength, his senses, the way the full moon pulled at his core and sent his emotions spiraling into chaos. His mother had told him to be his own anchor and he had fought for control, taming the beast through sheer willpower and pain, digging his claws into the palms of his hands until blood dripped down his arms and splattered his shoes. He couldn’t keep doing it, there was only so many times his mom could find blood smeared jeans stuffed in the laundry and ruined t-shirts hidden in the back of his closet before she started to worry and Scott wouldn’t do that to her. His mother had enough on her mind without knowing what kind of monster her son carried inside of himself.
Allison was dead.
His thoughts tended to skitter away from that thought, an open wound still raw and aching. His strength had always been his unshakeable faith in things, that optimism that things would get better. He faced down the impossible because he believed he could, like he could force the universe to shape itself around will if he just tried hard enough. Scott had always believed that someday, he would reconcile with his first love. However long it took, they were meant to be together, she wasn’t supposed to die in his arms. It had left him numb and in shock, it was the only way to keep moving forward. There wasn’t time to grieve, not yet. Stiles was still so fragile, Lydia had broken apart, Isaac could barely function and was planning his escape from Beacon Hills. His pack was had shattered without her and he needed to be strong enough to get them through this before he could let himself fall apart.
Scott sat in one of the uncomfortably hard plastic chairs in the ER waiting room, Tupperware containers full of mac and cheese wrapped tightly in a plastic bag beside him. Learning how to cook for himself had been a matter of survival when his mom was working the night shift and there had been no one but himself at home. He wasn’t a chef by any means, but mac and cheese was easy enough to make without burning the house down and he always made sure to bring some dinner to his mom if he had the chance. She was too busy to talk to him yet, Scott kept catching glimpses of her in the hallways, giving orders to the other nurses and reassuring scared patients with that calm kind of authority that he always tried to emulate. He loved watching his mother work, she was amazing and he was so proud to be able to share her with all of the sick and wounded who needed her help.
Pain surrounded him, he could practically taste it in the air heavy with the scent of fear and suffering. The chaos of the ER wasn’t supposed to be a place to find a quiet center, too many people waiting, sick and hurt, to be called back to see the doctors. Ambulances wailed just outside the doors as patients on gurneys where wheeled into the hospital and the panic of loved ones waiting to hear news hung overhead. Scott wasn’t sure when he started spending so much time here. It wasn’t just the quick visits with his mother who was so busy to while she was working, too many of his friends had ended up in this building since that night he was first turned. It had been a domino effect with Scott at the center, accidents and tragedy radiating around him to engulf anyone who got too close. Lydia, Danny, Stiles, Isaac, he had waited in these chairs in silent worry as his friends suffered because of this curse while he was powerless to help.
Maybe it had started after the Nogitsune, he couldn’t even remember exactly anymore. He had taken so much pain all at once only to have it ripped from him in a rush of guilt-ridden bliss and numbness. It was supposed to hurt, he was supposed to bear the pain for others, the fact that the dark spirit wearing his best friend’s face had made it all feel so good to give up and feel nothing terrified him. The fox had leaned in close, asking Scott if he was okay like it had truly been Stiles. It had twisted the oni’s sword in his gut, slicing through organs and grinding against bone before ripping the agony from him and leaving him gasping for more. If Deaton hadn’t stopped it, Scott didn’t know what could have happened or what he might have agreed to just to feel that rush again.
All that hurt that he should be feeling had been stolen, leaving him empty and hollow. The physical ache of the wound in his stomach the only pain left for him to feel, and god, he had deserved to hurt after that night. He had looked right into his best friend’s eyes and never saw that it wasn’t Stiles looking back at him. Scott couldn’t save any of them…he had to save them all. It had taken hours before the numbness of it all had worn off, leaving Scott disgusted at how much he’d enjoyed the feeling and how he craved to have it all lifted from him again. That violating euphoria that had left him empty and desperate and sick inside. Pain made you human, and the Nogitsune had stolen it from him that night. The worst part of it was how much he’d liked not feeling human anymore.
The boy rubbed his hands together with a sigh, watching the others in the waiting room and picking out the ones who suffered the most. It was easy, he could pick up the scent from the ones wrapped in pain and fear no matter how much he tried not to focus on his sense of smell. Some things were just too strong to block out. He didn’t mean to know, but if he could do something…
Scott stood, making his way across the room towards the young man with bloody towels wrapped around his hands, skin pale and covered with a sheen of sweat that glistened under the harsh hospital lights. He could see the pulse jumping rapidly in the man’s neck, breathing shallow and strained as he waited with agonized patience to be called back. Sliding quietly into the seat beside him, Scott brushed his arm against the man’s elbow as if it was an accidental touch. Black veins spider-webbed across the alpha’s skin as Scott took as much as he could, the man beside him sighing in confused relief as his muscles untensed and the sharpest edges of his agony dulled.
Scott squeezed his eyes closed and took a shuddering breath as the pain settled deep into the joints of his bones, throbbing with more than a physical ache. Every time he did this, it felt like he opened up his soul and let someone in, exposed and vulnerable with sharp edged wounds left behind. The first time Deaton had showed him how, the feeling had been so profoundly intimate, it had made him cry. Everyone had walls up inside to protect themselves, but the only way to take someone’s pain was to strip all your protections down and invite the ache inside. You had to be laid completely bare.
Normally he was able to handle the feeling, practice had given him some measure of control. The pain never lasted forever and the intimate touch of souls left only lingering scars to remember them by. Each one had left their mark in him, he could still feel them all long after the hurting stopped. All except the death of the deputy in the sheriff’s station after the Nogitsune’s bomb had left a ragged hole inside, as if part of Scott had died along with him. What happened to him didn’t matter anyways, if he had the ability to help someone else, then he had the responsibility to do everything he could. He was helping, that was all he ever wanted and the only thing that was important. That was his role, he was the alpha and this town was his to protect.
The pain settled him more than Scott liked to admit, making him feel solid and real, the bands of darkness around his heart easing for a moment to let him breathe again. It made everything sharper, like he was in control and anchored securely. As long as he hurt, he was still human. He had to hurt for them, for Allison and Aiden, for Erica and Boyd. Scott had failed them all and they died because of it. Stiles was the one who needed him now, healing and hating himself, so ready to have stabbed himself through to end it. Scott couldn’t lose him too, he had to be strong enough to keep his best friend together and he needed the pain to stay human.
Standing again, he took the bag with trembling hands and passed it off to his mother with a quick hug and murmured endearments, promising to be back again tomorrow.