Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction)

Motel California Part 3

Allison ran down the stairs to us, freaking out about not finding Scott anywhere.

"It's happening to him, too, isn't it?" Stiles asked.

"It has to be," Lydia replied. "Didn't you say there was another flare on the bus?"

"Yeah, I'll get it," Stiles said. We turned to face the bus, and we were all stopped by the sight of Scott standing near it. He was dripping with gasoline, the red gas can laid on the ground next to him. In his hand was a lit red flare, and his eyes were filled with self-hatred and sorrow.

Allison walked closer to him, and I grabbed Stiles' hand, my breathing becoming short with nerves. If Scott dropped that flare, he'd be up in flames. Just because Peter survived them doesn't mean Scott would.

The gas was still dripping from his nose and chin as Scott stared at the ground, a tight grip on the flare. We stopped in front of him, trying to figure out what to do. Scott looked up at us, but it was like he wasn't really seeing us. I could already feel the tears well in my eyes at the thought that I might lose Scott tonight.

"There's no hope," Scott mumbled, his voice cracking sadly.

"What do you mean, Scott?" Allison asked, her voice breathy with fear. "There's always hope."

"Not for me," he replied. "Not for Derek."

"Derek wasn't your fault. You know that," Allison spoke gently.

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse. People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed." Allison continued to talk to him while I whispered to Stiles.

"I can get it away from Scott," I said. "But you have to get everyone away from the gasoline."

"You mean, if it doesn't work and the flame catches, don't you?" Stiles asked. I nodded. "No. I'm not letting you do that."

"I'll come back. Scott won't. We don't have much of a choice here, Stiles," I argued, looking up at him. He pursed his lips.

"No, Y/N. I'm not letting you," Stiles replied. Before I could figure out what he meant, Stiles stepped forward, stopping right in front of the gas after he let go of my hand. My throat constricted.

"What if this is the best thing I can do for everyone else?" Scott stopped talking as he started crying, his shoulders jumping lightly. "It all started that night, the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that? You, me, and Y/N, we were—we were nothing." Scott seemed to smile sadly like he missed the days, and my tears jumped down onto my cheeks. "We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again."

Scott rose the flare up like he was going to drop it while staring at me and Stiles, and I saw Stiles begin to step into the puddle of gas. I grabbed Stiles' hand, stepping in next to him. I wasn't letting him do this alone.

"Scott, just listen to me, okay? You're not no one," Stiles said, his cheeks also wet with tears. "You're someone, you're-..."

"You're our best friend, Scott," I completed for Stiles, though it was hard to get the words out through my tight throat.

"And we need you." Scott's eyes darted between me and Stiles, the tears there just barely clinging to his waterline. "Scott, you're my brother," Stiles said.

"So, if you're gunna do this, I think you're just gunna have to take us with you," I said as Stiles wrapped his hand around the flare. I took Scott's hand in my free one, and he began to sob quietly, giant drops of tears streaming down his cheeks. Looking at him, I felt my own tears fall as fast as his. Stiles slipped the flare from Scott's hand, throwing it from us.