I do not own anything at all relating to Teen Wolf! This is a missing scene from Season 2 Episode 8. It's my first attempt at fanfiction, so please be honest, but be gentle ;)
The pain was intense. Every breath felt like fire throughout his whole body. He bit his tongue to keep his whimpers quiet. She was right...this felt like an asthma attack...times 100. All he could concentrate on was how each breath felt like it was going to be his last. It wasn't possible to breath like this for long, was it? He wasn't sure he wanted to, if it meant this much pain. Allison...
But he latched onto her words. No, he wasn't alone. He had recently joined Derek's pack. Derek...Derek could help him! Derek could help make the pain stop! If only he would come. If only he could summon the energy to call him. He had to call him. He could feel his heart racing faster and faster. His breathing was becoming more labored. He didn't even think that it was possible. But thinking of Allison gave him enough will power to rise to his elbows. Every last ounce of energy put into his roar, his call, his plead for help. As he collapsed, he prayed with every fiber of his being that Derek heard...that Derek would come.
What feels like hours of agony later, Scott feels a rush of relief. He feels, he hears his Alpha is near. All previous feelings of bravery and all desires to be independent melt away. He just wants the pain to stop. Tears of distress, of relief, build up. He tries not to let them fall. He prays that he isn't imagining Derek's presence. His heart races faster still. Finally, after so much torture, blackness edges his vision. He is upset that he can't seem to stop it. He wants to tell Derek everything, he wants Derek to understand what he is feeling. He wonders if he will now die...his mentor too late to save him. His last thoughts are of Allison. He hopes someone will tell her how much he loves her.
He feels pain again. It starts slowly, each shallow breath his body takes racing acid along his windpipe. As it builds, he notices his head pounding. Each heartbeat makes his head feel like it will explode. He wonders if an outsider could see his eyes physically pulsating. Next, his joints begin to ache. Ache wasn't really a strong enough word to describe the horrible feeling that radiated down his bones with every slight movement his body made. Wait, why was he moving? His stomach feels like it wants to jump right out of his body. He has always hated being nauseous. This was worse than any flu bug he every had.
Whatever he is resting on moves abruptly upward, and Scott feels his head connect back with what feels like someone's thigh? He scrunches his eyes shut at the sudden influx of discomfort. His stomach rebels and he feels liquid rapidly exiting his mouth. Usually throwing up makes him feel better when he is sick. Which is why he is so confused when it takes him to an even higher level of misery.
The general fuzziness that he hadn't noticed surrounding his ears starts to clear. He can hear yelling. He can't pinpoint any specific words just yet, but he also hears to roar of an engine underneath the chaos. As he tries to quiet the whimpering he just noticed was escaping him with every exhale, he tries to piece together what he hears.
"Hold his head to the side! If he chokes on his own vomit, there isn't much we can do to save him at this point!"
"While I hear what you are saying, Derek, I don't think you can fully grasp what is going on back here! And why is he still making those noises? Shouldn't he NOT be feeling any pain while he is out? What if he wakes up? Can you drive any faster? Does Deaton know we are coming? I'm not sure he's going to make it!"
"Stiles, calm down! Issac already called the vet, he will be ready for us. And we can't have him wake up until we heal him. That's all there is to it. If he is whimpering while unconscious, imagine the pain if he was awake."
Issac. Stiles. Derek. Derek! Derek came to save him. Save him from what, he isn't totally sure right now. But he must be safe. Another bump in the road and a swift jerk of the wheel from Derek causes Scott to bump into the seat and his head to smack into Stile's thigh again. He can't help the cry of undiluted pain torn from his throat. More bile and black sludge makes it's way up his throat and onto the floorboard of Stile's Jeep. He feels like he can't catch his breath, his breathing becomes more shallow and rapid, making Scott dizzy.
"Derek, take it easy up there! What do I do with him? Oh shit, he looks bad man, real bad! His lips are turning blue man, what do I do?"
"Shit! We are almost there. Talk to him, keep him calm. He's hurting Stiles, just be his best friend. Let me worry about the rest." Scott can't keep up with the conversation. He is trying to quiet his whimpers, settle his stomach, anything to decrease his almost overwhelming feeling that he is about to die, that his heart will stop pounding any second now.
"Scott, buddy, calm down. Try to slow your breathing down, huh? Hey, listen, remember the first time they took you to the hospital from school because of your asthma and I got to ride in the ambulance with you because you wouldn't let go of my hand? Dude, I know you were scared, but I swear I had to have been ten times more scared that you. And you kept whispering, 'Stiles, it will be ok soon,' to me over and over again? You've been my best friend since kindergarten. I'm here for you Scott, I'm right here."
As Stiles continued talking, Scott felt him grab his hand and hold on tight. Scott felt a warmth in his chest, a force that started to relax his overworked lungs. He hung on the Stile's hand and tried his best to do as his friend asked. He concentrated on breathing, releasing the pain from his mind momentarily, focusing on the pull and release of air. As the stress from the situation continued to build and Scott's lips stayed an alarming shade of blue, Stile's panicked when he felt Scott suddenly let go of his hand. His face relaxed and his body when limp.
"Is he dead, or did he pass out again?"
"Umm...he's still breathing! And wheezing. He sounds real bad man!"
"Ok, we're here"
Within moments the Jeep screeched to a stop outside the Vet's office. Doors slammed as Deaton and Derek shouted to one another, one firing off questions, the other giving frustrated answers.
"Get him in here and on the table! Issac described the Wolfsbane as best he could on the phone. Did you bring it with you?"
Derek looked over to Deaton. "No, it wasn't the most important thing on my mind."
"I understand. It's fine. I'm pretty sure I know what kind it was just based off the smell he described. I just wanted to confirm. It's ok, I have everything set up."
Deaton watched as Derek opened the passenger side door and folded the seat up. He easily removed Scott's limp form from Stile's lap as Issac and Erica pulled up in a separate car. He heard the vet address the others while he rushed Scott in the back door and placed him on the surgical table clearly set up for an emergency. He grabbed a clean towel and wiped the sweat from his beta's forehead and face. He really did look shockingly pale under the big lights.
"I had the others go out to the waiting room." As Derek turned to go, not wanted to see Scott so vulnerable, Deaton stopped him. "No way Derek, you stay here. Not only am I going to need to you to hold him down, as this will be quite painful, he will need you as well. A beta always seeks comfort from their Alpha."
"I don't know if I can."
"You have to. It's your responsibility. Would he deny you if the tables were turned?"
"What do I need to do?"
"I already have the antidote prepared. We administer it intravenously as well as through inhalation. Remember how bad it hurts to rub the burned Wolfsbane in a wound? Well, we must fill Scott's entire body with it. You will need to hold him down. He will only hurt himself if we restrain him too much. Let's just hope he passes out quickly and stays out for the duration of the treatment."
Derek felt queasy already. "If it's as bad as I'm imagining, he may lose control."
"That is why the others are out in the waiting room. Under strict orders to not enter unless specifically called by you. But you may have some sway over his actions. And while I do not condone forcing others to act upon your will, you may be able to TALK him down."
"I would never do that! Doc, do what you need to do."
Without another word, Deaton quickly inserted an IV into Scott's right hand. He didn't even flinch, which caused a worried look the pass the vet's face. He hooked up a large bag of fluids which had a greenish tint to it above Derek's head after he took a seat next to the table at Scott's head.
"I will start the fluid's once we get the oxygen hooked up. I want his exposure time to be short as possible. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity will appreciate that."
The vet then pushed a large green tank up next to the table and strapped on an oxygen mask that covered Scott's nose and mouth. The mask had a small cylinder attached to the bottom that contained more of the greenish liquid.
"Are we ready?" Deaton asked.
"Let's just get this over with." Derek looked exhausted, anxious, but determined. He grabbed Scott's upper arms with his hands holding them across his chest. As Deaton looked at this, he decided to loop a think leather strap across Scott's thighs to keep his lower body on the table. And with that Deaton unclamped the IV fluids and cranked on the oxygen tank.
"You need to calm him down! His heart can't handle this amount of stress!"
"I'm trying! Can't you just knock him out?"
"Unfortunately, I can't. It will interact with the antidote."
"Why the hell won't he just pass out already?"
"I guess Scott is a little stronger than we give him credit for.I only hope this applies to his heart as well. Again, I don't think he can physically keep going with this stress for much longer."
The screams were hellish. Screams with a howling undertone. They were loud, heart-wrenching, and never-ending. Where boy ended and wolf began was no longer a clear line. While his voice appeared to be giving out at times, that didn't stop his body from straining against it's bonds. Underneath the roars of pain, one might hear the creaking of the leather strap keeping his body on the table. One might hear the groaning of the metal table holding the vulnerable body. One might also hear the demands of an Alpha to his Beta. Demands to calm down, to quiet down, to stop struggling.
The body on the table was in constant motion. All muscles were pulled taunt as he seemed to fight against the demons, the pain. His chest heaved, trying to pull in enough oxygen to fuel his fight. Limbs flailed against leather and arms. Back arched, head thrown back and his mouth never seemed able to close around the screams of pain. His neck was stretched so far is appeared to be on the verge of snapping. And the body seemed eager for that, eager for anything to stop it's misery.
Derek pushed down on Scott's chest harder, afraid he would make him stop breathing, but also afraid of Scott breaking his own back. Derek realized that his demands weren't working, they weren't reaching through the haze surrounding Scott. So he changed tactics.
"Scott, please, listen to my words. Listen to me. Not just for me. Think of Allison."
The unthinkable happened. The body collapsed on the table. Chest still heaving, tears leaked down his cheeks. Derek kept going.
"Scott, I know you hurt. I know you can't breath. But we are helping you. We are helping you get back to Allison. You have to calm down. You heart is going to give out if you don't. Please let Deaton finish the treatment. You are almost done, I promise. I swear it. You can rest soon. All this pain will go away and you can rest. We will get Allison here as soon as possible. But you need to stay with me. You need to calm down. You need to breath."
Scott concentrated on his surroundings. He felt the fire racing through his veins. It seems to start in his right hand and swiftly fill his entire body. Then he felt the strap around his face. Each and every breath seemed to increase his agony. Something in the mask was causing this pain. So he did what made sense. He held his breath.
"Umm..hey, doc. He's not breathing! Why isn't he breathing?"
"His heart is still beating. His muscles are still twitching. He must be holding his breath. You need to make him breathe."
"Make him breathe? How do I do that? I don't even think he is aware enough to understand me."
"He is and you know it. He responded to Allison's name. He needs to breathe to finish neutralizing all the wolfsbane. Talk to him!"
"Ok, ok, Scott, listen up. I know it's painful, but you have to breathe. We can't finish your treatment until you start breathing again. Please, come on. Breathe. Breathe."
Scott understood what Derek was saying, but Derek didn't understand what he was feeling. Scott managed to shake his head 'no' just enough that if Derek weren't paying such close attention to his face, he would have missed it.
"He needs another outlet for the pain. He realizes he needs to stay calm and stop trashing and screaming. Look, he is biting his tongue." The vet pointed to Scott's face, which Derek had already noticed to trail of blood leaking from the corner of Scott's mouth. "And quickly, I really don't like his lips being so blue."
Derek still had his arms crossed over Scott's chest, holding both his upper arms. He watched Scott tuck his face into the crook of his elbow and scrunch his eyes shut.
"Bite me Scott."
"What?" Deaton sounded flabbergasted.
"I will heal quickly, it doesn't matter. He needs an outlet, and he needs my comfort, so you say. Come on Scott, you can't hurt me. Bite me. Do whatever you want. Just breathe. Let me know you can hear me at least. Unclench your jaw. Ripping your tongue to shreds isn't helping anyone. Come on Scott. Open up." Derek continued to plead with Scott, sinking his head lower until his lips just barely rested against Scotts right ear.
"Derek, we need to do something now. Listen to his heart. It's the lack of oxygen."
Derek noticed the slowing heart rate. It was getting too slow at this point. Much to slow. More blood gushed down Scott's chin. Derek could have sworn he heard bone or tooth cracking.
"Damn it Scott! Open up now! Please, please Scott. Breathe. Just breathe. Do it for yourself. For me. For Allison. For Stiles who is probably scared shitless out there right now. For whoever. Just fucking breathe!"
Time stopped. No one took a breath in the moments that followed Derek's final pleas. Ever so slowly, first Derek, then Deaton, noticed a loosing of the muscles around Scott's face. His lips parted ever so slightly, followed by a huge inhalation of air and a lightning fast snap of his head towards Derek's forearm. Derek instinctively growled slightly at the sharp pain he felt when Scott's teeth buried in his muscle, but he quickly tightened his arms to hold his head in place. Scott nose flared as he sucked in air quickly, deeply, and painfully. He thrust his head harder against his Alpha, seemly trying to take comfort in Derek's scent. The oxygen mask shifted, but Derek positioned it over his nose.\
"Thank God. Now, another few minutes or so and we can stop all this. He will have some residual pain, mostly due to his thrashing. His joints will be sore, as will his lungs. But the worst will be over."
"Untie his legs." Derek didn't look up from watching Scott's face.
"Are you sure? It might be a bit too soon." Deaton hesitated.
"He is clearly aware of his surroundings. Untie him. Let's try to minimize his distress the best we can, huh?" Derek reasoned.
As soon as the leather strap was off, Scott tried to curl over on his side. "No Scott, stop. You may rip out the IV. Just stay on your back for a while longer." Deaton wiped the sweat off Scott's face with a towel as best he let out a small, pathetic whimper, but uncurled and laid flat on the table.
"Ok, he's all done. Derek, take that mask off him while I flush his IV. I want to leave it in for an hour or so, just in case I need to administer anything else."
"Ok. Scott, you need to let go of me now. You are all done. The pain should stop pretty quickly now." Scott sighed once before slowly unclamping his jaw and releasing Derek's arm. Derek quickly grabbed some gauze to put pressure on his bleeding arm while untangling himself from his young beta. Scott seemed to try to snuggle into his Alpha's hold before moving slightly and turning his head away.
Deaton turned off the bright overhead lights and helped a stiff and exhausted Derek to a bench along the side of the room. He brushed back Scott's hair on his way out of the room to talk to the other teenagers in his waiting room. One they heard that Scott was going to be fine, Issac and Erika managed to wrestle a struggling Stiles into his Jeep to take his home. While Deaton understood that he wanted to see his friend, what Scott really needed now was uninterrupted rest.
Upon returning to the exam room, Deaton quickly and quietly removed the IV from the sleeping Scott's right hand. As he again brushed his hair back, Scott stirred slightly. Derek thanked him for helping, and again, at the sound of his Alpha's voice, Scott stirred. He was going to be just fine. Deaton smiled and exited to room to give the two werewolves a chance to rest.