Author's note: And this concludes my story.

If you like this, feel free to check out my other works. Or other people's works that cover similar stuff. Or just turn off the computer and go eat some chicken. All good options.

Enjoy.

Scott's eyes were open long enough to see Theo fly across the cave a land a few feet away from him. Then Liam grabbed Theo by the throat and slammed him to the ground, picked him up and slammed him again. Theo tried to pull at Liam's arm. He struggled as Liam use his other hand to slash Theo's face with his claws. Blood oozed from Theo's cheeks and nose. Scott wondered when he became used to the smell of blood.

Stiles was there all of a sudden. Or maybe he came in with Liam. He had a bat he dropped to the floor. Obviously he wasn't going to need it since Liam was busy hulking out.

"Okay, Scott, it's going to be okay buddy." Stiles fumbled with the lock on the chain. He snapped it open with what looked to be a lock pick. When this was over, Scott was going to ask Stiles where and why he got a lock pick, and how many illegal things he had done with it.

"You're going to be okay. Scott? Hey, buddy, stay with me, okay? You're going to be okay . . . don't . . . Scott? . . . don't pass . . . stay . . ."

Everything got blurry. The pain was blurry. Scott liked blurry.

Stiles was saying something. It was important. It sounded important. But so was sleep. Scott wanted to sleep. He wanted the pain to sleep. He wanted it to blur, to fade. Fade to black.

The noises dimmed. Scott remembered one thing before he went to sleep. Liam screaming.

"I'm sorry."

He screamed that to him, over and over again.

It was clouds. Lots of clouds. But he could walk on them. And sit on them.

She was sitting on a cloud.

"Allison?"

She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. Her hair curled around her shoulders and shined under the light of the sky. Her dress was long and white. He ran to her and collapsed in front of her. She smiled and took his face in her hands. Her hands were warm.

"It's okay. I'm here."

"Am I dead?"

He realized in that moment how much he didn't want to be dead. He wanted to finish high school and go to college to study to be a vet. He wanted live with Stiles like they always said they would. He wanted to spend Christmas with his grandparents. He wanted to ride his motorcycle through empty streets and eat ice cream in the summer and spend Saturdays lying in bed until noon. He wanted to live.

Fortunately, Allison shook her head. "You're not dead, Scott. But you need to let us help you."

"How?"

"You told me once that werewolves find strength in a pack. Find strength in yours."

"I don't understand." Tears dripped from his eyes. They slipped from his cheeks to her fingers. She wiped the wetness from his face. She was so gentle. He missed her so much. She took his hands in hers. She closed her eyes. He did the same.

"Think of all the people you've seen. Lydia, Kira, Isaac, Derek. Malia. Stiles. Liam. Me. Think of your parents. Think of everyone you've protected. Imagine all of us here, with you. Our souls linked to yours. Draw on our strength and our love."

Their faces flashed through his mind. Their words echoed in his thoughts, telling him to stay strong, telling him they were there. A warmth spread through his chest. He felt safe. That was a strange feeling.

"Good. Now think of yourself. Think of all the good you've done. Think of all you've accomplished."

"Why?"

"Because you need to let yourself heal. It happened before, Scott. Remember? We were on the bus and you weren't healing."

He remembered. He had thought Derek was dead, and it was his fault. Scott had passed out in a gas station bathroom and woke up to Allison stitching his wound shut. His guardian angel.

"You need to let yourself heal, Scott." He felt her lips press on his. He kissed her back. She felt alive to him.

"You need to love yourself."

Why? He just did everything wrong. He just kept finding the bodies. Allison tugged his arms to her. Scott opened his eyes as Allison wrapped her arms around his waist. He rested his head on her shoulder. But he didn't cry. He was too tired to cry.

"You need to let go of this self-hatred." Allison sighed, and gently pushed him away from her body. She did that thing, where she smacked her lips together when she was trying to think of something to say. Scott watched her lips, her cheeks, her nose. He wanted to remember everything.

"I let you die, Allison."

"Remember how you once said you believed in fate? That was my fate, Scott. That was my destiny. You couldn't change that. It's not your fault."

"But-"

"Scott." She silenced him with a word. "How I any of this your fault? How is any of this your responsibility?"

"I have these powers. I have the power to stop bad things from happening."

"No, you don't have that power. If that was in your power, you would have done it. There are lots of werewolves in Beacon Hills. How come you think you have to do it all?"

There was no answer Scott could give. If he had a year to think, he still wouldn't come up with an answer. The warm feeling in his body grew. A cozy, homey feeling traveled through body.

"Say it, Scott," she whispered.

"I . . . I love, I love myself."

The words were barely audible, barely there. But Allison smiled like he shouted it from the roof tops.

A bright light appeared from above. Allison kissed his forehead.

"It's time for you to go."

"Don't leave. Please." He clutched her body to him like a child with a teddy bear. But the light was getting brighter. Everything faded into the light.

"I'll be here. In your dreams."

"Allison."

"I love you, Scott. And I always will."

A bright light appeared from above. A blinding fluorescent light that Scott was familiar with. The cold operating table. The windows overlooking the parking lot. He was at the animal clinic.

"Scott? Scott, can you hear me?" The light was blocked out as Dr. Deaton bent over him.

"Huh?" For a second Scott thought he fell asleep during work. He blinked and tried to sit up. Dr. Deaton pressed a hand on his shoulder.

"You should probably stay there for a minute or two." Scott did as he said, although he didn't feel anything wrong with him.

Sneakers tapped against the waiting room floor. He smelled the familiar scents of Stiles, Liam, Malia and his mom. Anxious energy filled the air. It had a pungent smell. Like many things, it was something he had grown used to. Dr. Deaton listened to his heart beat. He checked his blood pressure. Outside, Stiles said something about waiting room magazines. Scott knew their waiting room only had pet magazines. Usually the people in the waiting room were the type of people who read those things. They were waiting for a pet. These people were waiting for a werewolf. Maybe, Scott thought, they should have werewolf magazines, too.

"Well, Scott," Dr. Deaton said as he put his equipment away, "you've been out cold for four hours, and if I hadn't been told what had happened, I would have no idea of what happened."

"Huh?"

"You're healed, Scott." He smiled at him. "I see no sign of any physical injury or aliment. How do you feel?"'

Scott sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the operating table. There was no pain. No dizziness. Slowly he pushed himself off the table. He took a few steps, all sure and steady.

"I feel fine."

He felt numb. He had been captured, tortured, rescued, then saw his dead girlfriend in a dream, told to let go of months of guilt and self-hatred, and woke up in his place of work wearing no shirt. Again. He wasn't sure what he should feel. Physically, he felt fine.

"Some people are waiting outside for you. Do you want me to send them in?"

He didn't know what else to say other than yes. He didn't know what to say to everyone. But he'd have to see them all eventually. Dr. Deaton went outside the room. He heard him tell them to come in.

Then he heard the sound of running. Stiles, a scrawny human made of pale skin and fragile bone, threw himself at him. He squeezed his body so hard that if Scott weren't a werewolf he knew one of his ribs would break. Their arms encircled waists and necks and everything went where it was supposed to go. They hugged too many times to count.

His mom came next. She smelled like rubbing alcohol and their worn sofa. She ran her hand through his hair like she always did. Scott kissed her cheek, just like she did for him when he was little. He had changed. He had grown older with time. But he couldn't outgrow this.

Malia clasped her hands behind his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, like a little child wanting to be held. Her faith had never wavered. From the first day they met, she had accepted him as her alpha. She looked to him as a leader. She argued, ignored his orders (and common sense) on more than one occasion. But she would always be at his side. She was his beta as much as someone he bit.

The beta he had bitten lurked in the doorway. He looked at anything but him. Scott knew what he was feeling. Guilt. Self-hatred. Scott felt what happened as partly his fault as Liam's alpha. But Liam was at fault, too. No one was wholly innocent in this. Scott didn't go over and hug him.

"Thanks for saving me," was what he said, instead.

"No problem," Liam replied. Then he left.

Their issues would be sorted out in time. But not tonight.

Scott allowed himself to be led to his mom's car. Stiles was saying something about Theo, who somehow got away, the slimey bitch. Lydia was still in Eichen House. They were going to get Kira later that week and formulate a plan to rescue her, a plan Stiles had already half mapped out. Malia hoped that the plan involved beating her former orderlies up. The two of them sat on either side of him in the car, legs pressed up against his. His mom told them to let him rest tonight, they could sort out everything tomorrow.

When they got home, Malia called her father and said she was sleeping at a girl's house. She threw an old sleeping bag down on the floor. Stiles took up his usual position on the left side of the bed. It was a small pack. A broken pack. But still a pack. Scott knew that his mother would check up on him while he was sleeping, at least twice. He drifted off to sleep, content.

"Why do you have a mirror on the wall?" Scott fiddled with a throw pillow as he sat on a couch. All therapists on TV had pillows and couches. But not mirrors.

"In case someone was crying and want to make sure their face is clear. Or to tell themselves positive affirmations." Dr. Miriam Goldberg, a middle aged Druid with curly grey hair and a black cat, sat in an office chair. Her diploma from various universities hung on the wall. Just like on TV.

"Huh?"

"I love myself, I'm proud of myself, etc."

"Oh."

Dr. Goldberg wasn't like the clinical people on TV with the ink bloats. She gave him a journal on his second appointment, to write down anything he was feeling when he thought about hurting himself. She did have to tell his mom about that (because, even though he had a job and a motorcycle, he was still 17). But that didn't go as bad as he thought. His mom didn't cry a lot or yell. Dr. Goldberg said she probably already had experience with this stuff at the hospital. That made him feel better. It made him feel normal. Other people were going through these things, too.

For the last three weeks, he went every day after school for an hour. Dr. Deaton changed his schedule around it. Scott told Dr. Goldberg about his dad, Allison, middle school bullies, that time he thought he was gay so he kissed a boy at a 7th grade birthday party, only he wasn't gay and he sneezed in the boy's face right afterwards. (Unless there was a risk of harm, Dr. Goldberg was sworn to secrecy.)

She also encouraged him in getting Kira, rescuing Lydia, and recruiting members of the now alpha-less chimera pack to join up with him. All of them, except for Tracy, joined him with little persuasion. Hayden said yes before he finished asking.

"Why do you think they all said yes so quickly?' she asked as he hugged his pillow to his chest.

"Because Omegas have a hard time. And Theo's, well, Theo."

She chuckled. "And?"

"And, um, because they know I care about them?"

"Yes, I think that's a strong reason. In my experience, the most respected alphas are the ones who show the most care to their betas."

The cat rubbed her body against his ankles. She was a trained anxiety animal. Scott scratched her behind the ears.

"You know, Scott, you remind me of another alpha I knew once. She also started young. She was unsure of herself. But she became one of the most renowned leaders in these parts."

"Really?"

"Yes. Her name was Talia."

Scott looked up at Dr. Goldberg. He hadn't heard much about Derek's mother. But what he did hear was always compassion, strength and guidance. This was an honor he wasn't sure he could accept.

"Thank you," he said anyway, because he was learning to accept compliments.

The sun shone through the clouds as he left D. Goldberg's office. If Scott were a writer, he might consider that a metaphor. But he was studying to become a vet. He rode his motorcycle through the quiet streets. He parked behind the clinic. Liam was there.

For the last few weeks, Liam had been there when they were rescuing Lydia, recruiting chimeras and looking for any sign of the Dread Doctors. But they had never been alone in the same room for more than a minute. They had both avoided this talk, for different reasons.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," Scott said. He waited, watching Liam swallow and fold his arms over his chest. Scott had to fight his own demons. Liam could fight his, too. He wasn't mad. He was never mad. Disappointed was closer.

"Thanks, for letting Hayden in."

"Of course."

Liam looked down at his feet. "Why did you do it?"

"Because Hayden-"

"Why did you bite me?" He looked up at him, and Scott remembered how young he looked. "Why me?"

"Because a wendigo had my arms in a death grip." What was he supposed to have done, Scott, thought, levitate him?

"But why did you save me? You knew that would make me part of your pack." His voice became louder, ore urgent. "Why'd you do it? Why?"

After all these weeks of other people telling Scott he was going to be okay, he had learned something. Sometimes just saying it will be okay isn't the answer.

"Remember when Coach was yelling at us for going to Mexico? After Kate kidnapped me?"

"Yeah?"

"He told us to look after you." He came over and lay a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Well, that's why I saved you. Because I was looking after you."

"But I'm a monster."

"No. I've seen monsters. I can tell the difference." Scott drew in a sharp breath. "And I know what's it's like to lose someone you care about. I know the reasons why you did what you did. It's understandable, even though it's wasn't the right thing"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"I know." Suddenly a thought came to mind. A rather ironic thought.

"You said you didn't like taking your medication, right?"

"Yeah?" Liam had said his meds made him tired.

"What about therapy?"

Liam's eyebrows scrunched together. "Therapy? Like what you're doing?"

"Kind of. You'd probably do something different, I guess."

"Um, can I think about it?"

Scott knew Liam would go if he made him. For all that had happened, Liam usually listened to him.

"Yeah, you can think about it. Take your time."

But Scott didn't want to force him.

The clouds drifted in the sky, pushed by a stubborn wind. The light scattered along the pavement. Cars and buildings cast long shadows. Liam's face became half covered in shadow as he began to leave. Scott impulsively grabbed Liam and dragged him back into the light. He pulled him into a tight, quick hug.

"It's going to be okay, Liam."

Liam hesitantly hugged him back. It was awkward, and after a moment they broke apart. Liam looked up at him.

"Thanks."

Scott smiled. He started walking to the clinic.

"Scott," Liam called out. Scott looked over his shoulder.

"Thanks for being my alpha."

Author's other note: ta da.

Thank you to all my readers for your encouragement (and for putting up with my writing when it gets a little cheesy). I couldn't have done it without you. You're the real MVPs.