Outside, Melissa McCall approached the burnt out remnants of the Hale House. It was cold out and she was beginning to wish she had brought a coat instead of the thick sweater she had on. This was what she'd been waiting for. Inside that house was her son and the answers she had wanted from him. She knew he was in there. She saw sneaker prints on the ground in front of the house and they were recent, she was certain. She heard Stiles and his father conferring behind her back at the Jeep. Melissa turned her head to see what they were saying.

With her attention on them, the Stilinski men stopped talking and regarded Melissa. The Sheriff took one look at the house and began to shake his head. "Melissa, I can't let you go in there. Even when my guys were in there, it wasn't safe. The house is falling apart."

Melissa saw Stiles roll his eyes at his dad's cautiousness. "It'll be fine," she waved off his concerns and took the steps up to the front door. As she tried the door knob, and image flashed through her mind, one of Scott when he was eight and she had taken him trick-or-treating for Halloween. He sometimes got so excited if neighbors took too long to get to the door that he would try to open it himself if she wasn't paying attention. Melissa felt her eyes fill up suddenly; she wanted her little boy back and out of this burned out husk of a home. Steeling herself, she grasped the door knob and turned, expecting resistance. She was surprised when it turned quite easily and opened up in front of her. Melissa peered inside, noting how dark it was. She took her phone out of her pocket to enable the flashlight app Scott had said she needed to have. Casting the dull light from her phone around the ground floor, Melissa saw just how damaged the house really was. Decrepit fixtures, burned hallways and ceilings surrounded her as she took a tentative step over the thresh hold. She left the door wide open, hoping that somehow it would allow more light inside. Melissa stepped over a broken floorboard as she passed the front stairs and went to the right into what she thought was once a grand foyer.

There was no sign of anyone here. The only sounds she heard were the creaks and groans of an old family house, not unlike her own. Looking above, Melissa saw the remnants of an old chandelier, black and burnt, swinging slightly and quite precariously from the high ceiling. What was left of the musty rafters branched out from around it and all throughout the house, parts here and there broken off. She still heard the sheriff and Stiles outside, presumably arguing at the tone of their voices. She was surprised neither had followed her in, for all the concern they had shown. Then, it dawned on her. Stiles was stalling his father - but, for what? She decided to stop wasting time and get what she came for.

"Scott?" Melissa called out tentatively. More silence greeted her. "Scott, please come out." She paused, trying to give him time. "Scott? Stiles told me, um, everything." She tried to keep her voice light, with a small laugh at the end. She had never been good at discussing difficult subjects with her son unless she made them not quite so serious. No matter how many times she used the tactic, it never seemed to help, but it didn't stop her from resorting to it every time.

She continued to walk around the ground floor of the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of him somewhere. Finally, impatient and tired, a frustrated noise escaped her mouth and she called out, "Scott Michael McCall, you have thirty seconds to get your butt out here, NOW!" She listened as her voice echoed around the house and waited, fuming. "If you don't come out here, I'm gonna slap every tooth, or fang, or whatever out of your mouth!" Scott was apparently just a stubborn as Melissa was, because there was no sign of anyone, once again. "Fine. There goes your cell phone. Gone. I'm deleting it off the account tomorrow. Still want to hide?" She paused. "Fine, no more internet. That's gone too. Oh, while I'm at it, your bike. I'll drive you to school and pick you up myself. And you may as well quit your job because you are going to be grounded until you are thirty two," she paused, not sure if she wanted to say the next phrase on her mind. She decided she did. "Werewolf or not!"

From his hiding spot in the open room across from the stairs, Scott watched as his mother, with her back to him, started to throw out threats. He spied Jackson watching him from a few feet away. "Why don't you just go out there?" he whispered low, knowing only Scott could hear it.

Scott whispered back, just as quiet, "I can't! I can't go out there like this?" He gestured to his appearance. He was stuck in mid-shift, his eyes the familiar gold color, with fangs and claws marking his mouth and hands. He couldn't make them go away; he had thought about finding something to stab at his hand with, to force a shift through pain. As fate would have it, there was no sharp object anywhere, not even a shard of glass. With the imminent threat of his secret about to be uncovered by the one person he really tried to keep it from, his heart kept racing, pounding out of his chest. If it wasn't for the amazing constitution of werewolf health he had now, Scott was sure he would be having the mother of all asthma attacks.

"Why not?" Jackson retorted almost silently. "Its pretty obvious she knows."

Ignoring Jackson's taunting, Scott clamped his eyes shut, trying to think of Allison, but she kept turning into his mother with a horrified look on her face, the same face Allison had worn when she finally saw him from the school bus. Frustrated, Scott tried to think of other things, hoping his mother's image wouldn't invade that too, like that night last week on Allison's roof...He gradually began to feel his heart start to slow and relief when fangs began to shrink in his mouth. Then, Scott heard a creak. His eyes, brighter than before, snapped open to see the chandelier in the grand foyer. Only ten minutes ago, Jackson had tried to launch Scott off the stairs and into the chandelier. Luckily, instead of crashing into it, Scott had deftly grabbed hold of one of its arms and dropped safely to the floor. It had stayed in place then, but the after effects of the fight were now taking its toll at the worst possible moment. Scott watched as the fixture wobbled under its own weight, the stress of movement weakening the screws that had held it in place for years. "Oh, come on! Really?" he said silently to himself. He saw the chandelier almost silently give away and begin to fall to the ground, where it would land directly on top of his mother. Fear and panic gathered up inside his chest, knowing that fate already made his decision for him tonight. In a split second, all the progress he had made to return to human form had vanished and Scott launched himself from the alcove he was in, hoping to get to his mother before the chandelier did.

Melissa heard it before she saw it. The air made a swift sound as she looked up to see the aged burnt crystal and brass rush towards her. A part of her knew it was too late, and still, she made an attempt to brace for the impact. Except the only impact she felt did not come from above, but from behind her. Arms encircled her waist, tumbling them both away from the crash. 'Scott!' she thought, relieved that he finally showed himself. She knew it had to be him. Her hands searched for his, desperate to touch him after everything that she learned tonight. She felt the weight of Scott on her back and heard his breath by her ear as they both came to a halt by the wall. Melissa opened her eyes, careful of the dust that was now swirling around the room. She placed her hands on the floor in front of her, so as to steady herself.

So did Scott. A familiar hand, each finger ending with a sharp claw, let go of her waist and came down next to her own. Melissa froze, staring at it through the dust settling around them. Seeing the truth in that one moment pierced her to the core. 'Oh my God...' she thought, 'it's real.' She wanted to speak, to be able to say something reassuring to Scott, to tell him she loved him or that she could understand, anything. Before she had a chance to, the hand was gone. Scott had risen up to stand and began to walk away from her.

"Wait!" she cried after him. "Scott!"

Melissa stood up and turned around quickly, only to see Scott heading towards the staircase, pulling the hood of his sweat shirt over his head and quickly jamming his hands in his pockets. She ended up saying the one thing she didn't want to even though it stopped him just the same. "Don't you dare try to walk away from me!" The words flying from her mouth before she could think. She watched as his shoulders slumped in defeat. Melissa was afraid it sounded too harsh; she hadn't meant for it to come out that way. She started to walk towards her son, a hopeful hand outstretched to reach for him.

It was just one word that she had managed to get out of him. "Don't," she heard him say. It wasn't the word she was hoping to hear. His voice sounded different, as if he might be coming down with something. The warning tone he used made Melissa stop dead in her tracks. "What do you mean, 'don't'?" she asked him.

Scott continued on to the stairs, staying in the shadows, just enough so that she couldn't see what he didn't want her to see. "Just...don't stay here. It's not safe." He sighed, "Please, just go home. I'll be there later."

Melissa saw his head move, to glance through the front door, still half open. Stiles was out there, as was his father, but still, neither had decided to come inside, or rather, Stiles kept his father from rushing inside. Melissa was thankful for that.

Melissa began to walk towards the door. Even though she couldn't make out his face, Melissa felt Scott watching her every move, making sure she did what he asked her. She stopped at the door, dipping her gaze to see Stiles and the Sheriff in front of the porch, waiting. Sheriff Stilinski was concerned; one hand resting near his holster. Stiles was talking, still doing his best to prevent him from taking charge. Stiles knew, somehow, that she and Scott needed this uninterrupted moment. Melissa gave him a slight smiled before turning back to her son. Then her right foot came out in front of her and with a quick movement, the door shut swiftly.

She issued her ultimatum. "I'm not leaving here tonight unless you are in that car with me. Do you understand?"

"Mom-" he began, trying again to dissuade her.

"No!" Melissa shouted, taking a step towards Scott. He took another step up the staircase, keeping the distance between them. She could feel her lower lip tremble and she swore to herself she would not cry right now. She tried her best to keep her voice from wavering. "You are leaving this place. With me. I don't care what happened, how it happened, or why it happened. But I know it happened." She took a tentative step towards him and then another. To her surprise, Scott stayed where he was on the staircase so she decided to go further. "And I can understand -"

"Understand?" Scott interjected, anger and embarrassment clear in his tone. "How can you possibly understand what this is like?" She watched as Scott dropped down to sit on the stairs, his hands out of his pockets coming to support his head. She found herself staring at his fingertips, trying to see what she saw before through the dark. Melissa didn't want to admit that she found herself somewhat fascinated by what happened to Scott. She snapped out of her thoughts as Scott continued. "This isn't like helping me through a bad breakup or - or dealing with dad."

No, it definitely wasn't going to be like either of those things. "Well, I was going to say that I can understand why you didn't tell anyone. You never were the type of kid that wanted to make anyone upset. Or worried." She let out a little sigh, recalling instances of her son's amicable behavior, especially during The Divorce. "And you probably assumed that something like this would upset your awesome mom, right?" Even though he wasn't looking at her, Melissa tried to smile anyway.

Still, with his head in his hands, he responded, depressed. "Are you going to try to tell me it doesn't? Cause I really don't think I'd believe you."

It broke her heart to hear Scott so despondent. She wanted more than anything to fix this for him, but knew she couldn't. So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

Scott knew she had come closer, listened to her heart beat, steady and strong, approaching him slowly and gently, as she sat down next to him on the steps. He was terrified of what her reaction might be, when she saw, really saw, what he now was. This was his biggest fear that came with his curse. It wasn't that he turned into a monster. It wasn't that he couldn't control himself. Scott was sure that the rejection he would inevitably receive from those that he needed the most, the most important people in his life, was what he feared the most. How could anyone want to be around him as this? How could he let them down like that?

But...

Stiles saw him. He never left his side, never wavered in his loyalties, no matter what Scott had done to him.

Allison saw him. She wasn't afraid, even when finally faced with the truth, she embraced it, embraced him, and vowed to stand by his side.

So, why did he think his own mother wouldn't?

Scott froze as he felt the tips of his mother's fingers touch upon the top of his head. She gently forced the hood of his sweat shirt to fall away. He braced himself to hear shock, fear, disappointment from his mother's reaction, but none came. Her fingertips began to move back and forth across the back of his head. The familiar touch brought him back to every time he was sick, every asthma attack that landed him at the doctor's, or every sleepless night he had as a little kid; she did this for him to help keep him calm, to help him breathe. Scott could hear his own heart begin to slow, every beat trying to match hers. Slowly, he felt the wolf melt away as his mother's hand drifted down to rest on his back, steadily rubbing it in a circular motion.

Melissa was glad Scott did not seem to object as she began to nudge the hood off of his head. She applied her maternal instincts, in an attempt to soothe him, and she could tell it was working like it always had. Through her touch on his back, Melissa could feel something quiver slightly through her son as Scott turned his head slowly towards her, to gauge her reaction. Even in the little light she had from the glow of her cell phone now in her lap, Melissa was able to see what Scott tried so hard to keep from her for the first time that night. She searched for the eyes that made her gasp earlier in the evening; there was a faint iridescence there but the dimness of the room didn't illuminate them any further. The features that appeared on his sullen demeanor looked so otherworldly, unlike anything she could imagine from any horror movie, and yet, it somehow made perfect, natural sense. It took everything she had, but she kept her face neutral, not wanting to give Scott a reason to think she couldn't deal with this. Even so, Melissa sat captivated, watching, as the glowing eyes, the sharp teeth, the claws faded away, leaving just the Scott she knew behind.

As Scott breathed in a shaky breath, his mother spoke softly to him. "It's not so bad, you know?" Melissa attempted to sound positive, but she wasn't sure if she was talking to herself more than Scott. "Could be worse."

'Oh yeah, it could get a lot worse, Mom,' Scott thought darkly. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you right now." Scott could only shake his head. "So, how much did Stiles tell you?" he sighed, defeated.

"Pretty much everything although, I'm sure there's a few things you could fill me in on," Melissa looked at him pointedly as Scott hung his head and groaned. "And don't be mad at him. He didn't have a choice in the matter." She stood up and walked down the steps. Her head turned back, to see if he would follow. "Let's go. We need to get out of this death trap before anything else decides to fall on me."

With a glance back in the darkened house, Scott followed his mother out. There was no sign of either Derek or Jackson. 'I guess I can go?' he questioned to himself.

The two greeted the Stilinskis out front. Scott wasn't quite sure how everything that had been revealed was going to go over with the Sheriff. He began to feel uncomfortable in his presence, embarrassed of his 'condition' and what may be thought of him. He hated it, that feeling of being scrutinized for things that happened beyond his control. Scott glanced at Stiles, who gave him a somewhat sheepish look, showing that he was sorry for spilling everything. 'Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I couldn't expect him to be stuck with keeping it secret forever.' Scott shrugged in response, seeing that Stiles knew things were ok between them.

Sheriff Stilinski, however, looked from Scott to his mother. "You mind telling me what the hell happened in there?" It was obvious his mind was cataloging the many infractions that occurred tonight.

Melissa waved off his concern. "Nothing. It's fine now."

The Sheriff did not look convinced. "I'm getting the housing authority out here tomorrow and get this place condemned." He turned to both teenagers. "If I find out that either one of you has been back here after tonight..." he began to threaten.

"Dad, come on, we're not that stupid," Stiles placated, knowing full well that the two of them would probably find themselves back at the Hale house sooner rather than never.

Scott, meanwhile, was still concerned about his mother's attitude about his condition. He wasn't buying the flippant mindset she was displaying. "You sure you're not pissed about all this?"

"Oh no, I'm definitely pissed," Melissa started and Scott visibly winced. "But not at you, Scott. Where's this Derek?" She caught Scott and Stiles share a worried glance. "What are you not telling us now?" she complained.

"Let's just go. You don't need to talk to him," Scott replied, gesturing towards Stiles' Jeep.

"Oh yes I do. I have to tell him that you are never associating with him again," Melissa declared. "Ever. And if I find out he's trying to contact you in any way, I'm filing a restraining order against him."

Scott looked uncomfortable. "It's, uh, not really that simple, Mom."

"Why?" she pressed.

"Well," Scott started searching for an answer, but stopped. Melissa could see his eyes lose their focus and he turned around back towards the burned out house. Melissa followed his gaze to find Derek Hale, with Jackson behind him, standing on the front porch of the house.

Jackson looked as indecisive as Scott felt, having no choice but to have followed Derek outside. Derek himself stood there, glaring at the intruders on his property, or more specifically, the adults. "Why did you come here? Its private property."

"Look, Derek," Scott tried to diffuse the situation. He took a few careful steps towards his alpha, trying to placate the situation.

"Shut up, Scott," Derek ordered.

"HEY!" The group stopped to stare at Melissa McCall, whose voice rang out in revolt.

"I wasn't talking to you," Derek warned, staring daggers at Scott's mother.

Melissa stared at the young man in front of her, not much older than Scott. She knew she ought to be afraid of him. Considering what she'd found out Scott might be capable of, she wasn't particularly interested to find out what this one could do. She mustered up whatever courage was left and issued her own warning. "You can't talk to him that way. That's my job. And only after he's done something really, really dumb!"

Derek took steps down the stairs, getting closer, daring Melissa to say more. "Right, and that never happens," Derek replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Scott bristled with anger over the remark and the increasing proximity between his alpha and his mother. Jackson followed Derek down the stairs, his smirk from earlier that night long gone as he cast a confused look towards Scott and Stiles. He wasn't quite sure what Derek had in mind tonight now, but from Scott's reaction, he didn't think it could be good.

"Stiles get in your car and go." Derek turned his attention to the two wolves. "Scott, Jackson. Get inside. We're not done here yet." He stood, waiting for them to follow orders. A moment passed with neither beta moving and Derek sent a menacing sounding growl their way.

Fed up, Sheriff Stilinski stepped forward to confront the former suspect. "Who do you think you are, ordering these kids around like this? Did you get them to do your dirty work for the past three months too, trying to get to this alpha Stiles keeps talking about?" The sheriff made sure Derek could see his gun attached at his hip, although Derek didn't seem to care.

Melissa chimed in. "Scott's not going back in there. He's going home."

Derek balked at her order. "Scott can go when I say he can. He's in my pack!"

Melissa McCall exploded. "Well, I'm his alpha first! He's my SON! MY FAMILY! I don't care what weirdo supernatural rules out there say otherwise, but I called dibs on him first! Go bite someone else's kid, but leave mine alone!" She paused to take a breath and glanced at Jackson, who was still on the porch behind Derek. "Oh wait, my mistake, I bet you already did that! Who's next? Are you going to go after Stiles, too? Hey, while you're at it, why not take the entire Beacon Hills High lacrosse team?"

Derek smirked, obviously amused by the outburst. "Now why would I do that?" he replied, leaning down, getting closer to Mrs. McCall. "Stiles is second line." He heard Stiles in the background complaining about the dig.

"Really? I only saved your ass against the alpha. I never got a 'Thank You' by the way."

Stiles' indignant reaction may have distracted Derek for a moment, but he still saw what was coming and did nothing to stop it. He didn't really believe she'd resort to that.

The sharp crack echoed around them as Derek's face felt the sting of Melissa McCall's open palm.

Melissa didn't know why she did it, a bad parenting reflex perhaps. She'd slapped Scott once in her life and that was only because he let out a string of the vilest language she'd ever heard come from an eight year old's mouth. She felt terrible afterwards and apologized profusely for it. But not this time. She meant the pain she tried to cause to the young man in front of her. She wished she could do it again, even though her hand began to ache, like she hit a concrete wall. Melissa knew he could have stopped her, or moved out of the way, and she wasn't sure why he didn't do either. She watched the red mark on his cheek fade almost instantaneously, while his expression darkened. Melissa swiftly took a step back, sorry that she acted so rashly without knowing what she was committing herself too. She just slapped a werewolf across the face. The blue eyes staring at her began to burn red and teeth grew sharp. The longer she stared, the closer Derek seemed to get.

She then gasped as two bodies jumped in front of her, crouched in defensive stances. Both Scott and Jackson had shifted quickly and were now between her and Derek. She felt the Sheriff come up behind her and take her by the shoulder, leading her away, back towards the Jeep. She stared at Scott as her son and Jackson faced off against Derek Hale. Melissa felt her heart race as she began to panic for Scott's safety. "No! I can't leave him there...!" she cried, wrestling against the grip Stiles' father had on her.

Sheriff Stilinski refused to let her go. "Stay back, Melissa," he warned.

Stiles agreed. "Can't you see? You're the one they're trying to keep safe!" he explained.

Melissa stared at Scott. She finally saw him, the real Scott; not a precocious kid from her memories or a sneaky teenager carefully avoiding all the right conversations. She didn't even see the mythological werewolf. What was really there was a young man. He stood there by that house, prepared to protect those around him, with everything he had. Scott had grown up and she never even let herself admit it before now. As much as she cherished every memory she had of him as a little boy, it wasn't who he was anymore. Melissa just wasn't prepared to let go of that part of him yet; she was afraid she didn't know who he was now.

Amidst the growls coming from in front of the house, Scott was heard issuing a warning to the alpha werewolf, his voice low and angry. "Don't touch my mom," he declared. "Don't even look at her. If you do..." Scott trailed off, too angry to come up with anything.

Derek drew himself back, once again appearing normal. "And if I do?" he asked stiffly, not wavering from his pack's glare.

"We'll stop you," Jackson threatened.

Surprised, Scott sent a glance to his left at Jackson when he spoke up. Jackson had followed his lead and stood next to him to protect his mother, shocking behavior for the usually self-serving jock. Scott tried to focus back on Derek, determined to stop whatever game he was playing. The three faced off in silence, waiting for Derek to make a move.

Tension in the air between the pack was thick until Derek stepped back and spoke in straightforward manner. "Fine. Scott, tell your mom she's got nothing to be afraid of from us. We'll take care of her precious baby boy." He paused, watching as both betas postures deflated a bit with their alpha's sudden change of heart. "And as for the two of you," his glare returned, putting both of them on guard, "You need to protect the identity of this pack. Don't let anyone else find out about us. And since they know," Derek glanced in the direction of Mrs. McCall, the Sheriff and Stiles, watching the exchange from the Jeep, "you have to make them understand how important it is to keep this secret. If they don't, you know it won't be me they'll have to worry about in the long run." Derek bore his gaze into both betas to be sure he was understood. He then turned away from them abruptly and headed back towards his home. "Glad you two finally caught on. You're free to go." Scott and Jackson both watched as he briskly walked up the stairs and into his decrepit house, gesturing for them to leave with a wave of his hand.

Both of the young werewolves were thoroughly confused. "Was that just..." Jackson started to ask, turning to look at Scott for some clarification.

Scott had shifted back but still kept the confused look on his face. "He did all that just to teach us a lesson?"

"Is he serious?" Distaste spread across Jackson's face. "What a psychotic asshole!" He was beginning to wonder exactly what he'd gotten himself into attaching himself to Derek Hale.

Stiles jogged up to the two, eyeing Jackson since he still wasn't used to seeing him as a werewolf now. "What happened? Why'd he leave? I thought he was going to kick both your asses and then move on to us."

"I think it was all for show? He kept going on and on about pack mentality and whatever before you all showed up," Scott tried to explain. "We didn't exactly pay attention."

Stiles looked from Scott to Jackson and noticing the obvious difference, he asked the jock, "Why aren't you changed back yet?"

Jackson took on a defensive glare. "I will. Just give me a minute!" A minute passed with no apparent changes.

Scott gave Jackson a lopsided grin. "I know how to fix it."

Jackson rolled his eyes in annoyance at his co-captain. He was never going to get used to Scott being better than him. "Yeah, I know, McCall, you're a better werewolf than me. I get it," he spit out. "So if you know, tell me then."

Before he could sense it, Scott's fist squarely connected with one of Jackson's perfect cheekbones, sending the boy down. As the pain dissipated, Jackson realized he had shifted back before he had hit the ground. He looked up at Scott and Stiles, who both looked quite satisfied with the outcome of the punch, seeing the former lacrosse star player dealt with so easily while he was off guard.

"Didn't you pick up on that yet? Pain brings you back," Scott clarified. Now it was his turn to smirk at Jackson, remembering how Derek taught him that lesson. He offered a hand down to help him up, a hand that Jackson grudgingly took.

"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "Where do you think Derek went anyway?"

"Probably a secret lair. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's got a secret lair somewhere. Definitely seems more of a 'lair' type than, say, a townhouse, don't you think?" Stiles deduced, before turning back to Scott. "Dude, come on," he nodded to Scott, "your mom's about to have a nervous breakdown or something. You need to go."

Scott turned to find his mother with the Sheriff, back by Stiles' Jeep. She was still worried, not because of the look on her face, but Scott could somehow smell it in the air. It felt like a warning being issued and Scott suddenly wanted to leave as much as his mother did. He turned back to Jackson, nodded, and started walking towards the Jeep with Stiles. Jackson, ready to go home as well, followed suit and walked to where he had parked his Porche earlier than night.

The ride back was uneventful. All four of them were tired, considering it was 12:30 in the morning. The Jeep was silent except for Melissa's carefully worded questions about how Scott was feeling. I don't know, was all he could answer her with and she wisely left it at that. As they arrived at the Stilinski house, they exited the Jeep. Before going to her own car, Melissa went up to Stiles and his father, while Scott hung back at his mother's beat up sedan.

"Thank you for helping me tonight." She wanted to say more but could not articulate how to thank someone for investigating werewolf activity with her.

Stiles tried to cover the yawn that came over him but failed. "S'ok," he replied, brushing off her gratitude, as if there had been a real possibility he'd refuse Mrs. McCall for help.

His father agreed. "It's not a problem, Melissa. We've been put through enough crap from these two over the years, we should be used to it by now." He gave her a friendly smile, before continuing on a more serious note. "Stiles, Scott?" he looked between both boys. "We are having a long talk about all of this. Very soon. Like, this weekend soon. You understand?"

Scott nodded from his spot by the car, while Stiles looked resigned. "Sure. I'll make sure my werewolf power point presentation is ready for you," he deadpanned.

The Sheriff ignored his son's usual sarcasm and nodded to the McCalls. "Good night." He turned with Stiles and began to walk into their home.

"Good night," Melissa replied, as she walked to her own car. Scott had already gotten in the front passenger seat when she opened her door. He sat there, looking down at his hands. She could tell he wanted to avoid an embarrassing conversation. She wasn't sure if that was going to be possible. Turning the key in the ignition, the car sputtered to life and Melissa backed out of the driveway.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Where did it bite you?" Melissa asked.

Scott flinched inwardly at the pronoun she chose. The alpha may have been one of the scariest looking creatures Scott had ever been in the presence of, but he had been Peter Hale. Just like he was still Scott McCall. "Why does it even matter? It's just going to make you upset. It happened, it healed and -" he was about to say he was fine, but he knew that wasn't true. He was not fine. He was a werewolf now.

"Just please tell me. I want to know. About this, all of it. I know Mr. Stilinski said we'll talk later, but I just want to talk about it now, ok?"

Scott was silent for a minute until he replied. "On my right side. I fixed it up when I got home that night and by the next night it was gone."

Melissa was now sorry she had asked. Visions of Scott being attacked by a...a thing in the woods swarmed her brain. She put her blinker on and waited at the red light in front of them.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked suddenly. It caught Scott off guard as he jerked his head towards her. A car sped by in front of them, the headlight beams reflecting gold in Scott's eyes. Tapetum lucidum, she remembered when dissecting a cat's eye in a biology class from nursing school. A film over the eye that allowed an animal's gaze to reflect back the light thrown at them. Just another sign to her that Scott wasn't completely human anymore.

"Yeah, Mom, I know."

The light turned green. Melissa took her left and carefully drove her car over the pot hole riddled street. "Good. Promise me something?"

Scott looked confused. "What?"

"Don't leave. Don't run away from me because of all this that happened," she glanced at Scott, waiting for him to reassure her fears.

But he didn't. He remained silent.

"Why can't you answer that, Scott?"

"Because I don't know if I'll always be able to stay," he finished, staring out the window.

"I'm not talking about going away to college -" she started.

"I know that!" Scott interjected, he voice strained. "I can't always control this. There've been times when I really tried to hurt people." He paused, watching as the car took another left onto the familiar street that ended with their house. Visions filled his mind about hunting Stiles down in the locker room, killing Allison on the school bus in his dream, or the anticipation he had that night in the school, envisioning what it be like to rip each of his "pack members" limb from limb. "What if I try to hurt you? I just can't promise that, Mom. I'm sorry." He paused before continuing, knowing that what he said still wouldn't do anything to assuage his mother's fears for him. "I'm still trying to figure myself out, what it does to me and why. That's why I have to go to Derek. He's the only one who can help me control this."

Staring straight ahead, Melissa nodded slightly and processed that statement while pulling into their driveway. She turned the ignition off and both she and Scott got out of the car and headed to the front door. She was trying to get the right key to the front door when she felt Scott reach out and hug her. It was awkward feeling, as if he changed his mind in mid-action but felt it was too late to stop. Immediately, her hands wrapped around him. She was thankful for the contact it provided.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Mom." He let go and looked at her, hoping it made her happy.

In a weird way, she knew what Scott was trying to say, even though the exact words didn't come out. She nodded. "I know," she said simply. The front door opened for them and they walked inside.

As Scott made his way up the stairs, Melissa aimed to go into the kitchen to put the food from dinner away. She should have done it before taking off to the Stilinskis.

"Make sure you get some sleep. Don't you have a test tomorrow?" She wanted normal.

"No, chem test is Friday."

"Don't forget to set your alarm," she called, knowing he didn't really need the reminder. He'd probably sleep through it anyway.

"I will. Night, Mom."

Normal. Normal things that a normal mother would say to her normal son. 'Oh, if only.'

Scott woke up before the alarm buzzer went off the next morning and groaned at his body's inability to stay asleep through whatever had managed to wake him this early. He could hear music floating up the staircase from the kitchen downstairs. Even though it was on a low volume, his sensitive hearing picked it up.

Stop your messin' around

The scent of sizzling bacon and strong coffee permeated the air around him, making more than just his stomach growl. At the thought of food, he felt his incisors start to enlarge ever so slightly in his mouth. He was too lazy to will them back.

Better think of your future

In bed, he begrudgingly hummed along to the tune, a favorite of his mother's. She used to sing it to him if he got in trouble with Dad.

Time you straightened right out

He could hear his mother singing along a little off key and moving around in the kitchen; water running, silverware clinking together. 'What is she doing up?' he thought to himself. 'Wait, why is she cooking breakfast?' Two home cooked meals in a row was strange for the McCall household.

"Creatin' problems in town," he mumbled along to the song. He sighed and opened his eyes. The alarm clock told him it was 6:26 and his alarm was about to go off in four minutes. Now more hungry than sleepy, he pushed himself up and out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott strolled into the kitchen, backpack and lacrosse stick slung across his shoulder. He looked around the kitchen quizzically, his mother in her pajamas at the stove. The table had hot pancakes, eggs, and bacon. "What's all this?"

Melissa turned around, surprised. She hadn't even heard him come down the stairs. "Well, its breakfast!" She spread her arm out over the spread on the table. She put on a smile for him, though he noted how tired and bloodshot her eyes looked. She would probably blame it on long hours at work if Scott asked about it. But he knew better.

"I know that, but why are you cooking? Again?"

"Yes, I know it's weird, but my sleep schedule got all screwed up with my shift change and I couldn't sleep much. So, I got up and decided to cook. Oh, and I made you a lunch," she gestured to the brown sack on the counter.

Scott's eyes grew wide at his food prospects for the day. Not willing to argue, he sat down and started filling up a plate. He checked the clock - he only had about ten minutes before he would have to take off.

Melissa was still working on a cup of coffee. "You have lacrosse practice today?"

Scott nodded, mouth full of food.

Melissa nodded back. She really wished she had more to say to him. She sat down at the table across from him and placed her mug down. She kept staring at Scott's hands, remembering how quickly they could grow into sharp claws from the night before.

Scott took notice, however, he didn't let on. He was pretty sure his mother meant it when she said being a werewolf didn't matter to her. But she must have the same type of morbid curiosity that Stiles had about his condition; not that he could blame her. He toyed with the idea of making his claws grow to show her, then decided against it. There was definitely not enough time right now to open that up to discussion. His stomach close to uncomfortably full and his plate finally clean, he got up to put it in the sink.

Melissa watched as Scott grabbed his lunch bag. Then to her surprise, he kissed her goodbye on the cheek. 'Awwwww,' she mused to herself. "Thanks, Mom. Love you," she heard him call back as he got the rest of his things. She called out the same from her seat in the kitchen. She decided to get up and go to the front door, watching Scott as he hopped on his bike and pedaled away down the driveway, like any other boy.

She locked the door and padded back to the kitchen. Melissa began to clean up until she spied the old photo album on the kitchen counter. Remembering what she had wanted to do originally, she abandoned the chores and grabbed the album and went to sit at her computer desk in the other room. Taking her digital camera from its usual spot, she patiently waited while her computer booted up. She wanted to print out some photos and put them in the album before she forgot. Melissa watched as a handful of files transferred from the camera to their new home in her 'Scott' folder on the PC. As the thumbnails popped up, she realized she not only had some shots from his first lacrosse game, but also had a few from the night of the semi-formal with Scott in his suit. She had insisted upon taking some pictures before he left. It wasn't often she got him to dress up and she wasn't missing the opportunity.

Without looking any closer, she clicked a button to print out all eight photos. Melissa went back to the kitchen to finish up her cleaning while the printer did its work. Ten minutes later, she popped back in the computer room to see how they came out.

The first five photos were from Scott's first lacrosse game. Most were taken of Scott in action on the field - she was so proud seeing how well he did even if it was because of supernatural powers. She even had one closeup of Scott and Stiles before the game started. She studied their expressions. Both were smiling, but there was something uneasy about their expressions, as if they were worried. Melissa remembered that they had been in a hurry when she caught them. Upon closer inspection, she realized Scott wasn't looking at the camera. From behind his face mask, she could see his eyes staring off to the side with an intense scrutiny. She wondered what had caught his attention. Perhaps Derek had been there, watching him. Melissa didn't like to think that Scott would be living his life constantly looking over his shoulder.

She slid the lacrosse photos into the album and reached for the semi-formal ones. She smiled, reminiscing how impatient he had been to leave when all she wanted was a few pictures. He posed for one, then another. She put them both into the album, wishing that he and Allison had made up in time for the photo op. But there would be other dances this year, she reasoned, and as long as they weren't held on a full moon...She stopped that train of thought before it went somewhere she didn't want to go.

Melissa got to the last photo and caught herself. She remembered this one. Scott was about to leave when she had caught him off guard and set the self timer on her camera. She had run in at the last second as the timer ran down and grabbed his arm to get him to pose with her. He was flustered for a moment but did as she asked. With the flash of the camera, her hold on him was done and she let him go off to enjoy his evening.

For whatever reason, she didn't check the photos in the camera that night. Maybe she had been tired, or maybe she had to go to work - she couldn't recall exactly. She had simply put the camera away in its place until she had the time to come back to it again.

Melissa stared at the photo, she was smiling widely at the camera, one arm hooked into Scott's. Most of Scott's face, however, was obscured by a white-gold colored aura emanating from his eyes. Melissa got the impression that he appeared caught off guard, uncertain at whatever threat was suddenly before him. His stance was off, with one arm held out as if to block the camera from working. The picture trembled, the image not steady in her hand.

It would have been a good picture. A fun candid picture of a mom not ready to let her son go out on his own to a school dance. She could have framed it or put it in her album.

Melissa crumpled the photo in her hand, making a tight fist to will the ruined image out of existence. Her eyesight was getting blurry, heat starting to pulsate behind her eyes. She didn't want to look at it anymore. She let the crumpled photo fall from her grasp, watching it roll off the desk. Her hands came up to catch her head as she stared down at the pages of her sixteen year old photo album, filled with pictures of what she considered to be the greatest accomplishment of her life. Melissa choked back a sob, something she'd been holding in for the past twelve hours; then another, and another. She closed the album to keep tears from falling on the pages and ruining them. Holding her head in her hands, she cried for her son, for what he would have to go through now. She allowed it only because she knew that he'd be at school by now, heading into homeroom. Scott would finally be too far away to hear her crying.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the ending. Feel free to discuss any of my fics over in my author chat in the TW Fanfiction Forum.

Next: I'll be concentrating on follow up one shots for Claws In Me unless a really awesome prompt takes hold somehow. :-)

And I don't own Teen Wolf or The Specials.