Stiles isn’t supposed to get hurt (he never does) and this changes everything
You get to decide how this one ends ;)
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Scott never really remembered much from a fight, afterwards. It was hard to pick out specific details when everything was bathed in red. It was true, though, that he was always aware of his friends- his pack- fighting beside him, their movements matching up to beat out a sort of rhythm.
Scott knew it was dangerous, but he’d almost come to feel invincible, both him and his friends. They’d all escaped so many fights and near-death experiences, it seemed like nothing could kill them. Sure, they could get hurt, but they could never die. It was so very dangerous to think this way; he just didn’t realize how dangerous until it was too late.
He distantly heard sirens and panicked. The police needed to stay out of this. If they got involved, they would only get in the way. He sent a prayer out to anyone listening that they wouldn’t further complicate things. He had enough distractions around him without having to protect innocent police officers from a threat they didn’t understand.
Scott tuned out his distractions and focused on his breath escaping in short puffs and each slice and kick he dished out. He could clearly hear each and every heartbeat of his pack as they too fought alongside him. He thought he heard gunfire and brushed it aside. The real threat was right in front of him if he didn’t concentrate. It wasn’t until he heard a faint cry and the stutter of a heartbeat that he realized his mistake. It wasn’t just any heartbeat. It was Stiles’.
Scott felt a white-hot fear shoot through his chest as he spun around, his eyes coming to rest on the one thing he hoped he would never see. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, purely for Scott’s benefit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to process a single thing he was seeing. Stiles seemed frozen in place, his back arched and his face twisted in pain. No sound was escaping from his lips; not a cry, not a scream, not a word. The world had become completely silent, save for Stiles’ labored breath, as loud as any scream to Scott’s ears. He stumbled forward, before falling to his knees. All it took to get Scott to move was the brief glimpse of blood seeping through Stiles’ shirt, and then he was at his side, before he could collapse.
Everything was completely quiet. No fighting, no gunfire, no anything. Just Stiles. Scott pulled Stiles close to him, looking for the wound that was the source of the bleeding because, believe it or not, there was enough blood already that Scott couldn’t even find where it was all coming from. He did, though. He found it eventually. And it infuriated him.
A bullet wound.
All this supernatural crap and a bullet was what had gotten Stiles?
Scott felt his throat closing up, panic clenching his heart and squeezing with everything it had.
Scott sliced through Stiles’ shirt, careful not to cut Stiles in any way. Stiles was covered in blood, the dark liquid spilling onto Scott so that they were both covered.
“Oh, God,” Scott felt like he was gonna be sick, his voice coming out thick. “Stiles.”
Stiles had been staring blankly up, seemingly unaware of Scott’s presence until then. His eyes flicked toward Scott, focusing on his panicked voice and trembling hands.
“What do I do? I don’t-Oh, God,” a sob escaped Scott’s lips.
“Scott? What are you-” Stiles looked lost.
