Scott was already regretting his decision to follow Stiles anywhere right about the time that they pulled up to the Beacon Hills Sanctuary. He knew his mom would kill him, for one, if whoever was out murdering people right now didn't do it first.

And since they'd shown up, neither of them was really talking. In fact, if he didn't know better he would assume Stiles was mad at him. But he did know Stiles. They had been best friends since before kindergarten. He wasn't mad. Just focused. And a focused Stiles was so rare it made him seem angry.

But Scott couldn't keep himself from inserting his opinion on the matter either. He needed it noted that he was against their little plan. Or rather he was against Stiles' plan to go traipsing through the woods next to the burned out husk of a home where a whole family had died.

"You know our parents are gonna kill us if they find out we're doing this, right?" Scott hissed. "Assuming we don't get axe-murdered first, dude."

"That's why we're not gonna let them find out. Duh," Stiles said bluntly. "Where's your sense of adventure? The body is cut in half, or ripped in half, or whatever. And they are missing the other fucking half. Dude, that's, like, wild."

"Yep. Heard the whole thing," Scott said, remembering the conversation they had eavesdropped on when they showed up. "That's why this is a terrible idea. They think it's an animal attack. At least if it was a murderer, they could understand us. But an animal? An animal isn't going to stop if we try to reason with it, Stiles. We'll be dead before we know what hit us."

Stiles stopped walking, just like he'd done in the room, and rounded on him. His eyes were fiery in a way Scott hadn't seen in a while.

Okay, maybe now he was mad.

"Dude, what is your deal tonight?" he whispered harshly.

Scott sighed quietly and then stalked back to where Stiles was standing so he wouldn't have to scream across the space. "It's the first day of a new school year tomorrow, Stiles. I would like to live long enough to see it." He ran his hands through his hair. A nervous tick. He didn't like confrontation. "I just told you all my big plans and you dragged me into the woods to either get murdered or eaten alive. Those don't sound like good options."

To his surprise, Stiles just shrugged like neither bothered him all that bad. The boredom of growing up in the tiny town had clearly gotten to him.

"We used to do stuff like this all the time," he explained. "Why'd you come if you didn't want to?"

Scott sighed again, louder this time. "I couldn't let you come out here alone. What if something happened to you?"

He hung his head as soon as the words left his mouth. They weren't emotionally closed off, necessarily, but they didn't make a habit of talking about how they felt all that often either. And knowing that it was a real possibility that Stiles didn't understand how much he cared for him hurt too.

"Aww," Stiles cooed. "You love me?"

Scott looked back up and rolled his eyes, glad to see Stiles' trademark smirk was back. He knew Stiles wasn't really making fun of him, so he laughed lightly in response.

"Shut up, dude," he murmured, playfully pushing Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles returned the gesture, making them both laugh louder. "You do, man. You love me. You, like, really love me." He paused and then his eyes got wide as he looked Scott up and down. "Oh my God, do you... wanna kiss me? Is that it? Is this our moment?"

Scott stared at him with the best version of a deadpan expression he could muster, despite the fact that he wanted to laugh at Stiles' mockery.

"Wait," Stiles continued, "you said girlfriend earlier, but that's not right, is it? You wanna confess your undying love for me." Stiles touched his chest lightly over his heart and batted his eyelashes. "I am so touched."

Scott pursed his lips, trying to pretend to be angry as Stiles reached out like he did before, meaning to punch him lightly in the shoulder. But once he made contact, Scott could tell everything had gone horribly wrong and Stiles had miscalculated. Just like Scott had with where he was currently standing.

He hadn't noticed, until that very moment, that he was on the edge of a ravine, and as he tipped backward, his hands flinging out in front of him out of instinct, trying to grab onto something, the smiling and laughter quickly faded for both of them.

Next thing Scott could grasp was that he was falling. And he seemed to just keep falling. No matter what he reached out for, it broke apart in his hand. The dirt and debris of the forest floor was saturating every piece of his clothing and getting in his eyes and mouth as he toppled down the hill. He coughed to try and dislodge some of it and catch his breath, but it didn't work. Nothing was working.

This was it.

Then he did stop. Hard. The impact knocked the rest of the breath out of his lungs, and for a second he lay on the damp earth struggling to stay conscious. The dizzy feeling he was used to, but not in this context. Not without his inhaler.

Scott started to numbly feel around in his jacket for his one saving grace, but he knew it wasn't there. Not after a fall like that. It was lost. And he was screwed.

"Scott!" Stiles called from somewhere at the top. "Oh my God, Scott! Are you okay?"

No, idiot!

"I'm coming down, Scott. Stay there," Stiles said, not waiting for an answer.

Which was good. Because there was no way in hell Scott could give one. He did manage to roll to his side after another second, but he could feel the way all the tendons in his arm protested the movement and he knew tomorrow was going to suck.

No way he was making first line now.

When Scott stood up, cringing slightly as he took stock of all his injuries, he could hear Stiles making his way down as promised. It was a slow process, but knowing he was on his way made Scott feel better in a way he couldn't explain.

A loud howl broke through the forest so suddenly it seemed to pierce his body, though, and he clapped his hands down over his ears.

"Dude, are you down here?" Stiles asked, closer than before. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. Sounded like a wolf," Scott responded, removing his hands slowly.

"Highly unlikely," Stiles stammered. "There haven't been any wolves in California since, like, 1920 or something." He paused as he kept walking, twigs breaking in his path to signal his descent. "I mean, there are a few, but when I say a few, I really mean a few. Like, less than ten since people started slowly reintroducing them."

Scott shook his head. Leave it to Stiles to give him useless facts to try and distract him from certain death.

"You're a walking encyclopedia, Stiles," he commented. "Better than Google."

And even though he knew what Stiles was doing, it didn't mean it wasn't working. He wasn't dizzy anymore, for one, and by continuing to talk it helped him find his way back to his friend.

"We all have our skills," Stiles offered. "Knowing a lot of useless crap is mine."

Suddenly, a light shone in Scott's face. He was unable to stop the way his heart fluttered at the idea that someone else had found them, but when the light moved, it revealed Stiles behind it.

"Are you okay?"

Scott looked down at his now very dirty jeans and then back to Stiles as he held out his hand. "I think so. I'm lucky I didn't hit one of those trees."

"Tell me about it," Stiles conceded.

"Can you, uh, shine your phone down here? I can't find my inhaler," Scott commented when Stiles pulled him up slightly.

"Sure."

Stiles hopped down into the bottom of the ravine, letting Scott stay where he was as he started looking around in the pit of dead leaves. He turned in circles a few times, going over each patch meticulously, but never found the thing. Scott could feel his stomach clench uncomfortably at the idea that he had actually lost it.

"It's gonna be kinda hard to find in the dark," Stiles said quietly, more to himself than Scott. "Maybe we should..."

Another howl interrupted his train of thought, though Scott knew where he was going with it. But it was the gunshot that followed that made them both look up again.

"Do you think that's the animal and your dad just found it?" Scott asked.

"If he did, I hope he won," Stiles commented.

They both fell silent again and Scott couldn't help the shiver that ran up his back at the idea that Stiles could lose both his parents. After his mom, they had assumed that was more than enough trauma for one person to endure, but his dad didn't have the safest job, and they were out here playing with metaphorical fire for the fun of it.

"You know what?" Stiles asked, reading Scott's mind. "We can come back tomorrow. I think you were right. We need to get home."

Another set of gunshots rang out, completing Stiles' argument for him as he struggled to get back up the cliff face where Scott was standing.

"I know someone's out there," a deputy called, making them both freeze. "I saw your light."

Stiles hung his head, admitting defeat. He looked back to Scott after a few seconds and then pointed over his shoulder.

"I need you to stay where you are until I find you," the deputy called again.

"Go," Stiles whispered. "I'll lead them the other way. I was the one who dragged you out here. If anyone's gonna get caught, it should be me."

"No. No way. I came too. It's fine."

"Get the fuck outta here, Scott," Stiles insisted. "My dad'll go easy on me. You know that."

Scott bit the inside of cheek, knowing that Stiles was right, but not wanting to leave him alone to deal with it anymore than he had a minute ago. It didn't seem fair. But he did need to get home to his emergency inhaler, and running there wasn't an option.

It was now or never.

"Okay," he said, giving in finally. "Text me when you get home, all right?"

Stiles rolled his eyes again and smirked. "Yes, Mom. Go. Seriously. Now."

He started to push Scott before he could really respond as the deputy closest to them started to jog down the hill. But instead of trying to make his way up, Scott decided running parallel was a better idea. He didn't have Stiles to help him back, and going that way would only lead to someone else finding him.

"Hey!" Stiles yelled when Scott was far enough away. "Over here! I'm over here."

He smiled to himself as he walked carefully through the forest, wondering what he could have possibly done to deserve a friend like Stiles. They had seen each other through so much since they had met, and no matter what happened, he knew Stiles would be there until the end too.

Something about senior year made Scott exceptionally sappy lately, he noticed, but he wasn't sure it was without reason. The people they had grown up with had been constant as well. Their friend group had rarely changed, and with the exception of Jackson and Lydia, no one had really traveled outside of Beacon Hills all that much.

He couldn't help but wonder if that was all about to change too.

On so many levels, there was no choice. Things weren't going to be the same after tomorrow. The world was going to keep spinning, and while Stiles was definitely going to be grounded, they were all going to go off and do things outside of their comfortable little bubble.

Scott knew he wasn't ready.

When he reached the edge of the sanctuary and the limits of the town, he pulled out his phone. He knew it was too soon for a message from Stiles, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know that he was okay.

A low, deep growl behind him, though, told him that Stiles wasn't the one in trouble.

He swallowed hard and turned his head. Another growl caused him to snap his head back until he was facing forward again. Whatever was behind him was going to get him before he could process what was happening anyway, so knowing what it was wouldn't do him any good, he reasoned.

"Shit," he muttered.

He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. If it was a wild animal, he wasn't fast or strong enough to put up any sort of fight. And for the second time that night, he knew he was screwed. Though this one would probably prove more deadly than the last.

He lurched forward without thinking when he felt the animal move behind him, but he was grabbed before he could make it two steps.

It took a few seconds, but Scott noticed that it was a pair of dirty human hands that had a hold of him. They had a tight grip on his biceps. Not that it made sense. The growl and the rancid-smelling breath were animalistic in nature, for one. There was no way it could be anything different. No person alive could make a noise like that. It was coming from deep inside its chest. It was all too feral to even resemble a person.

But Scott struggled against the hold anyway. He was all instinct now. Scott knew it didn't make a difference and he should just stop. But he couldn't make himself give up like that.

And then the only thing else he could register was tearing flesh. His own flesh.

He screamed louder and longer than he thought possible, arching his back to get away from the teeth ripping into his skin. Then, just like that, he found himself face down in the grass. His breath rustled the leaves nearest him as he scrambled to his feet, his body back in the most intense version of fight or flight mode that he had ever experienced.

Scott always chose flight.

Tonight wouldn't change that.