Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 33 - To the rescue

Rage. A visceral need to maim, slash and tear. A vision in red and black, blood and destruction that Scott fell prey to. The Alpha's roar had trigger his shifting, turning him into a mindless beast that only lived to murder. He roared and clawed at the cold metal door in front of him, tearing it with a screeching noise. Through the crack, he smelled his preys and his bloodlust spiked, making his fangs hungry for flesh.

On the other side, Jamie was busy running around the room, desperately looking for a weapon to keep Scott at bay without harming him too much. He and Stiles had managed to trap him inside a locker right before he lost his human mind to his wolf one, but the werewolf was only seconds away from escaping his makeshift cell. The providential fire extinguisher that had saved Stiles' life before was nowhere in sight. The lacrosse equipment that usually littered the ground was stored in a locked closet, out of their reach. The wolfsbane Jamie had kept to deal with just this kind of situation was in his school bag, inside the trunk of Lydia's car.

Desperate, Jamie resigned himself to use his fists. Stiles had his baseball bat in hand and planted his feet firmly into the ground, facing the locker Scott was trapped into. His plan was to swing the bat straight at his friend the second he emerged from the confined space. Hopefully, the shock would snap Scott out of it. Jamie took place next to him, raising his fists. The teens exchanged a look in a feeble attempt to comfort each other.

Another screeching noise was heard, the metal screaming as Scott tore it apart. Red eyes glowed in the darkness of the locker before a deafening silence fell. It lasted a second that felt like an hour, anticipation so thick in the air it seemed to slow down time itself. The change was subtle, like a release in tension, but when they perceived it, Stiles and Jamie knew that was it. Scott charged at them, claws bare and roaring his lungs out.

Not wasting a moment, Stiles swung his bat at his best friend. It connected with Scott's stomach, emptying his lungs of air and making him bend forward in pain. The wooden bat didn't survive the impact and shattered into pieces, the splinters prickling Scott's skin. The werewolf barely had time to look up that Jamie threw his fist at him, aiming for his face. Just like Derek had taught him, he used his entire body, not just his arm, and directed all his energy at Scott's face. The punch connected with Scott's jaw and sent a wave of pain through his skull.

Scott staggered to the side, one hand on his stomach, the other on the side of his face. He blinked, not understanding what was going on. A pair of arms brought him into a hug and a voice apologized to him. He heard someone else groan and smelled blood. Immediately worried, Scott gently pushed Stiles away and went over to Jamie, who was holding his right fist with a pained expression. His knuckles were badly bruised, some to the point of bleeding.

It then dawned on Scott what had happened. Everything came back to him, the memories implacably inhabiting his thoughts and confronting him with what he had almost done. The guilt he felt was immense. His eyes watering, he turned on his heels and hid his face in his hands, incapable of facing his friends. How could he, when he could have ended their lives not a minute earlier?

The worst was, in his wolf state, Scott actually wanted to hurt his friends. He hadn't even considered them his friends anymore, they were just preys for him to play with, like a cat plays with a mouse before killing it. In that moment, he had wanted to answer his Alpha's call, he had wanted to join him and whoever was on his way was as good as dead.

A hand on his shoulder broke him out of his daze. Scott forced his eyes open and reluctantly faced his friends. They looked worn out but both managed to find the strength to smile at him reassuringly.

"We're okay."

The simple words lifted a tremendous weight from Scott's shoulders. They meant his friends were unharmed, but most importantly, that they weren't angry with him for losing control. Once again, they had his back and he couldn't be more grateful for it. He sniffed and looked away sheepishly, too proud to shed a tear in front of his friends.