So, I decided to be a masochist and write from Stiles' POV as well.

Stiles got out of the Jeep, apologizing to Scott as he made his way towards his best friend. "Hey, sorry. I had trouble starting the Jeep again, thing's barely hanging on. I couldn't in touch with Malia or Lydia."

He stopped a few feet from Scott, waiting to hear the game plan. He was honestly worried about the girls himself. As shaken as Malia was this afternoon, he didn't know if she was just ignoring him or not, and the last time he talked to Lydia, she was with Parrish, so he certainly wasn't having the calmest thoughts in the world when her phone kept going to voicemail.

But instead of ready to go, Scott looked hesitant, wary. His worry expanded to his best friend. "Scott?"

Scott didn't say anything, he simply reached into his jacket and pulled out a wrench. Stiles' wrench. The one that he had lost at the library. There was blood on it, dried and crusted.

Stiles stiffened, now knowing how to respond. Did Scott know? Every fiber of his being was filled with dread at the thought of Scott finding out, especially when he wasn't the one who told him. "Where'd you get that?"

"This is yours?" Scott asked in disbelief, holding the wrench out. So he did know, and he knew what it was used for.

Stiles looked away for a moment, afraid to answer. The look of betrayal on his best friend's face killed him. He really didn't want Scott to find out like this. Finally, he slowly reached out and took the wrench, looking down at it as the memories of that night came rushing back. The fear, the anger, the dread. How relieved he was when Donovan took his last breath, because then he couldn't hurt him or anyone else. The anxiety and guilt that settled in once he realized that he had killed someone, even if it was an accident. Even if it was in self-defense.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Scott asked, hurt clear in his voice.

Stiles took a deep breath, knowing that being honest with his best friend was the best way to go. He answered with a shaky breath. "I was going to."

"Why didn't you tell me when it happened?"

"I couldn't," Stiles muttered truthfully, looking up at Scott and begging him to understand. He had to understand right?

"You killed him?" Scott asked. "You killed Donovan?"

"Yeah, but he was gonna kill my dad," Stiles explained. "What? Was I supposed to just let him?"

Scott shook his head. "You weren't supposed to do this. None of us are."

Scott looked at him like it was obvious. Like it had been black and white. But it wasn't. It never had been black and white. Stiles felt anger rise up in him, because how could Scott not get it? If he knew what had happened, why didn't he understand that there was no choice in the situation? He didn't mean for it to happen, it just did. It's not like he drove the piece of metal into Donovan himself. Yes, he had grabbed hold of it after the fact, but by then it was too late either way. Why couldn't Scott see that? "What, you think I had a choice?"

Scott refused to look at him, giving a small shrug. "There's always a choice –"

"Yeah, well I can't do what you can, Scott!" Stiles told him, his voice rising involuntarily. He didn't try to hide his frustration. He didn't know if he could if he tried. How could Scott see it as black and white? Was Stiles just supposed to die so he could fit into Scott's little box of what was right and wrong? He remembered the conversation he had with Scott in front of Eichen House, and he still didn't understand how Scott could think that it was that simple. Sure, Scott had been faced with death before, but he could heal a lot faster, a lot better. He had all these extra perks that came with being a werewolf, like speed and strength, but Stiles? He didn't have any of that. He was human. Fragile. Easy to kill. Maybe that was the difference. "I know you wouldn't have done it. You probably would've just figured something out, right?"

He hated the bitterness that had bled into his tone, but he couldn't help it.

"I'd try," Scott nodded.

Stiles snapped. He started yelling, and he couldn't stop, his voice raising with every word. "Yeah, 'cause you're Scott McCall! You're the True Alpha! Guess what? All of us can't be True Alphas! Some of us have to make mistakes! Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes! SOME OF US ARE HUMAN!"

He roared the last sentence, realizing how bitter that fact made him. Scott had this higher sense of morality, he always had. But he had the luxury of being harder to kill when this whole thing started, so his morals hadn't shifted as much. But Stiles' had. His morals had always been different from Scott's, a little less pure. But as time went on, and his life had been threatened over and over again simply for the fact that he was the fragile human that could be used as bait, his morals had become grayer. Because he didn't have the luxury of healing quickly. He didn't have the advantage of speed or strength. If he got hurt, he hurt, and if it was a mortal injury, he was dead. So while Scott could use his abilities to become nobler, more selfless, Stiles had to learn to preserve himself. He wanted to be like Scott, he really did, but he couldn't see how it was possible, especially in the situation with Donovan. When someone wants to eat your legs, your survival instinct tends to kick in.

"So you had to kill him?" Scott asked, as if the fact that Donovan was dead was the only thing that mattered.

Stiles looked at him in disbelief. How could Scott not get it? Did he truly not understand where Stiles was coming from? "Scott, he was gonna kill my dad."

"The way that it happened," Scott told him, pleading with him almost. "There's a point where it's just – it's not self-defense anymore."

"What are you even talking about? I didn't have a choice, Scott!"

What the fuck did that mean? It was an accident. He didn't mean to kill him, just stop him. How was that not self-defense? Was the fact that Donovan was dead crossing the line for Scott, no matter how it happened? How naïve could he be?

He saw the apprehension on Scott's face, the sincerity that he truly believed what he was saying. He saw the mistrust. "You don't even believe me, do you?"

"I want to," Scott said, nodding, and Stiles knew that he meant it.

So it was that simple. It had always been that simple. Scott wanted to believe him, so he should believe him, right? That's how it's always been. Scott had always believed him.

"All right," Stiles nodded. They could fix this. "So – so believe me then."

But Scott stayed silent, the hesitation clear on his face as he refused to look at him. It hurt. A lot.

"Scott, say you believe me," Stiles begged. Because at this point, he was not above begging.

"So what's your punishment for killing a chimera?" Theo had asked him. He knew, he was going to lose Scott. But there was that small hope within him that thought that Scott would understand and forgive him. It was dwindling fast.

"Say it," he continued, taking a small step forward when Scott still didn't answer. "Say you believe me."

Scott shook his head slowly. "Stiles, we can't kill people that we're trying to save."

He let out a sigh, trying to control his frustration. Why couldn't Scott see how ridiculous he was being? Sometimes there just isn't a choice! He stepped forward, knowing that he wasn't hiding his anger, but not caring at the moment. "Say you believe me."

He saw the fear in Scott's eyes as he stepped back, looking at the wrench that he had unintentionally raised. Scott looked between the wrench and Stiles, eyes wide, and that's when Stiles saw it. That's when he knew. He had lost Scott. That hope, no matter how small it was, was crushed in an instant. He had lost his best friend.

Taking a step back, he felt his eyes burn as he looked at the wrench that had just ruined his friendship, his life. It just looked like a normal wrench, even if it had a little blood on it. As he flipped it over in his hand, he noticed that it didn't weigh very much. But it had changed everything.

"We can't. Kill people!" Scott emphasized, his own frustration showing. "Do you believe that?"

How could he ask that? Of course he believed that. But he hadn't meant to. It had been an accident. A mistake. How could Scott hold that against him? How many mistakes had other people made and Scott had forgiven them? He had forgiven the twins. The people that killed Boyd and helped kill Erica. Yes, they had turned out to be good guys when it came down to it, but Scott had forgiven them. Why couldn't he forgive Stiles for accidently killing someone while he was trying to defend himself?

But the twins had worked for Scott's forgiveness. For his trust. Apparently the trust between them had been broken, but Stiles was willing to work to build it back. He would do anything if it meant not losing his best friend.

He opened his mouth to answer, but his lips quivered as his emotions became harder to control. He looked away from Scott as he took a deep breath, waiting a moment before trusting himself to speak. It still came out shaky.

"What do I do about this?" he asked. He needed to know. "What do you want me to do, Okay? Just – Scott, just tell me how to fix this, all right? Please just tell me, what do you want me to do?"

Scott opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was hesitating, and Stiles' didn't know how much a few seconds of silence could hurt until now. But there had to be something he could do.

"Don't worry about Malia, or Lydia," Scott finally said, his expression hardening slightly. "We'll find them."

Stiles' eyes started burning again, and his jaw quivered as he took a deep breath to hide the tears. Scott was dismissing him. They had been through everything together, and his best friend was just dismissing him.

"Maybe, uh," Scott continued, not looking at Stiles. "Maybe you should go talk to your dad."

With that he walked away, leaving Stiles alone in the rain as he went inside.

Stiles couldn't help the tears that began to form in his eyes as he looked at the closed door. With a deep breath, he looked down at the wrench, noticing once again how something so simple had completely destroyed the closest relationship he had.

He had thought he knew what hurt was. What heartbreak was. But what he was feeling now? His heart wasn't cracking, or breaking. It was shattering. The one person that he had thought would always be there for him, who had always been there for him before, had left him. Saw him as a murderer.

Maybe he was right. How good he had felt after realizing that Donovan was dead and couldn't hurt anyone else was disconcerting, but maybe he should be more concerned about him. After all, the last time he had felt good seeing a dead body was when he wasn't in control of his own.

He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that Scott had washed his hands of him.

If he was being honest, Stiles didn't blame him one bit.

Tell me what you think!