Author's note: Trigger warnings for mentions of self-harm.

Set after 5x12. For a sweet guy who has the shittiest luck, there are not enough Scott hurt/comfort fanfics out there. So I am going to try and fix that a little. Maybe I'll even inspire other writers to try writing Scott fics too. Anyway, hope you like this.

They had stood in the tunnel. The stench of damp wood and rust made him want to vomit. Stiles had just called Scott's mom about the bone fragment. The phone call ended when the edges of Scott's vision began to blur. He was woozy, like he had somehow managed to get drunk. His wound was still bleeding, he knew, but there had been more pressing issues at hand. Besides, Scott was no stranger to pain. And blood.

He had stumbled, the weight he carried too heavy for his legs. Stiles' hand was on his shoulder, he could feel it, and he said something. . .something. . .

Scott was tired. Too tired. He needed to sleep. To sleep until this everything was nothing more than a dream. The poison wasn't helping things.

He then lay on the ground-how did he get there?-and Stiles was yelling something. He was always yelling something. Scott almost wanted to shush him. Instead he closed his eyes. Let the demons take care of themselves this time.

He wanted to sleep.

The next thing he felt was something soft underneath him. A blanket covered his body. Scott opened his eyes. Bed. His bed.

Next to him the clock told him 10 hours had past. Holy shit. Scott stood up a bit too quickly. The world started to blur again.

"Hey, easy." Malia was next to him all of a sudden, gently pushing him back down t sit on the bed. Where did she come from?

"Deaton said you needed to take it easy for the next few days. The poison isn't quite out of your system and your wounds need time to heal." Malia sat herself on the bed next to him. He caught her staring at his stomach even though he was fully clothed.

"Where is everyone?" It was then that he remembered the sheriff.

"Stiles is at the hospital. He's been driving back and forth for the past 5 hours. His dad woke up from surgery about an hour ago. He's going to be fine."

"Thank God." Of course Stiles would be checking on him. They couldn't stay mad forever.

"Your mom's downstairs on the phone with the school. You're going to be missing classes for a few days."

"Why?" Did something happen to Abuela?

Malia looked down at her hands. After a few seconds she started to her outstretched fingers.

"When I was at Eichen House, there were a couple people who seemed fine at first. They talked, they were friendly. But they had bags under their eyes. At lunch they didn't eat much." She clenched her fingers together.

"When was the last time you ate, Scott?"

He couldn't remember.

"Listen Malia, I'm fine." He covered her hand with his own.

"That's what they said too."

"I'm not going to Eichen." The thought of being trapped in Nellie Bly's nightmare made his stomach churn. Maybe he had eaten something.

Malia looked up at him finally. "Do you remember when you officially invited me to the pack? When you came over to my house?"

Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had been standing there for a good 5 minutes and the social anxiety a lot more uncomfortable than any physical discomfort.

Mr. Tate actually seemed pleased that he showed up that Saturday afternoon, supposedly as part of the lacrosse team's volunteer outreach program. But it was taking a while to get Malia to let him see her. Her reluctance was strange considering she wanted him to teach her how to control her powers.

Finally Mr. Tate poked his head out from the stairway. "First door on the left."

Inside was a bedroom laid bare of everything but a bed. A little girl's things were overflowing out of cardboard boxes. And the girl was sitting on her bed, arms crossed, eyeing him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

They had already met once, when Stiles was possessed and Malia told them some vital information. She was very brief and walked off without so much as a see yah. Human niceties were going to take some time.

"So, um, I came here because I wanted to invite you to join my pack."

She tilted her head. "I am part of your pack. You changed me back with your roar."

"Oh. Well, uh, then, I guess I'll come in a few days, to start teaching you."

"Okay. Bye."

Well at least she got the bye part right. That's progress.

Scott took a step to the door and felt something under hos foot. The edge of a plastic tea cup saucer peeked out from under his shoe.

"I'm cleaning. Getting rid of stuff." Malia grabbed the plate and tossed it in a box. As she did so she kicked up the bed skirt to reveal several more plates, cups and stuffed animals lying in a heap.

"Were you playing tea party?"

"No!" Malia kicked the toys deeper under her bed. "I'm 17." She ducked her head, hair shading her eyes.

17 going on 9. Malia spent half her childhood as a coyote.

"Well that's too bad. A tea party sounds like fun. I've never been invited to one."

Malia looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah. I always wanted to. And I had nothing else to do today. But if you're busy packing, I'll leave you alone."

He took two steps before she grabbed his wrist.

Half an hour later, they were sitting on the floor drinking Lipton Iced tea out of tiny plastic cups and munching on ginger snaps Mr. Tate found. The look on the man's face when he saw Scott in a fireman's hat and Malia laughing a story about about Coach made Scott feel more like a hero than he had in a while. And he also felt happier than he had in a while. He hadn't had a chance to just chill and not worry about supernatural crap. That afternoon made him feel like a kid himself.

When he got on his motorcycle to leave, Malia made him promise not to tell anyone else. He came back several more times to play hot wheels and watch Shrek and pretend they didn't have to worry about being killed by some monster. Just the two of them.

She had pulled her hands away by then and had wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt warm. Malia had always felt like his beta from the start. Unlike Liam she always accepted his role as leader, even now.

"Malia, I promise you, we're going to get through this. Look at me," he said softly. She met his eyes after a moment. "I'm not going to Eichen." They already had Lydia there. One person was enough.

"You're right. You're not." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Because we're not going to let you."

Malia left after his mom came up, with promises to come back tomorrow and to have her phone on if he needed to call her, at any time. Scott couldn't quite explain it then, but those promises stuck with him. Something to hold on to.

His mom also sat down next to him. She immediately took his hands.

"Hey sweetheart, how you feeling?"

"Tired. Not that much pain, though. I think I'll heal okay."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't remember."

"How much sleep have you been getting?"

"Not a lot."

His mom nodded, nurse mode on.

"How many times have you used your inhaler this semester?"

"Not that many. They don't happen as much as they used to."

"You're a werewolf, Scott. This shouldn't be happening at all."

"I don't know, Mom. Maybe. . ." He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Scott." She cupped his chin in her hand. He looked up into her eyes.

"I think you have depression."

It was the night before they would set out to Mexico. The plan was in place. All that was left to do was sleep.

But Scott couldn't sleep. So instead he leaned against the porch railing and let the light of the half moon wash over him. He watched as the cuts on his arm healed.

He wasn't able to save Allison. Boyd. Erica. The teachers, the students, the people who all lost their lives because he was unable to do anything. He didn't save Jackson. Lydia did. He didn't stop Jennifer. Deucalion did. All he ever did was watch helplessly as others fought and died. All he did was find the bodies.

Now Derek was in danger, again, and Scott could only hope he wouldn't fail, again.

Another cut. This one healed too. He focused on the pain, the ritual, that drowned out his werewolf senses and stopped him from hearing.

"Scott?"

Scott pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his arms and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing up?"

"Uh, just thinking Mom."

"Well it's late. You can think tomorrow."

"Okay."

He quickly ran up to his room without making eye contact at her. With the door locked he rolled up the sleeve to see nothing, not a scratch. His mom couldn't have seen.

"I am not seeing a therapist Mom. What the hell would I even say?"

"I'm talking to Deaton about finding one who knows about the supernatural. You start next week."

"But-"

"I saw you dead, Scott. That's not something I'm going to repeat."

He winced. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She pulled him to her. She pressed his head on her shoulder and kissed his hair. It was like when he had a really bad asthma attack. Or when his dad came home drunk.

"You don't have to be sorry, sweetie. I love you sweetheart. And I'm so proud of you."

"I failed, Mom," he blurted out, soothed by her voice. "I fail at everything."

"That is not true Scott. You are a lot stronger than you think. But sometimes you can't save everyone. That's something I had to learn. That's something Stiles' dad had to learn. That's something a lot of people have to learn. All you can do is try. And you do."

"But now this thing is running around killing people and the Dread Doctors are still out there and Theo. . . I don't know what to do."

"You're not alone honey. I'm here too. And I'm going to figure it all out with you." She kissed his head again. "You're not alone."

His mom said he was going to miss the few days of school. Catch up on sleep, heal, etc. The school thought he had a minor breakdown and teachers were going to help him when he got back. Scott thought they had probably given up hope on him anyway. He was missing work already what with Deaton not there.

But really, how could he just rest when there was a monster on the loose?

Again?

The blanket was pulled over his head. It was like that song, he was too tired to fall asleep. The gash on his stomach really wasn't helping. A beep from his phone brought him out of his thoughts.

My dad's going to be okay.

Good

What about you? I left before you woke up.

Fine, just tired and injured, skipping school for a couple days

Good, you need to rest. I'll come over in a few minutes to spend the night.

No be with your dad I'm fine

My dad's asleep. And no, you're not fine. I'm coming over to check up on you and help you whether you like it or not.

At least Stiles didn't hate him. And there was no point in arguing. Stiles had a key.

Okay but don't wake up my mom

Okay. Scott?

Yeah

We're going to get through this.