Scisaac One Shots!

The Last Ones Left

AU: The pack fights off the army of hunters heading for Beacon Hills.. and loses.
TW: Many mentions of death.

The bunker provided no sense of security for either of them. It was damp, freezing, and they both were heavily aware of the fact that they were about to be killed. Isaac and Scott huddled in the corner in an attempt to keep warm, but the irony of their situation only made themselves shiver.

Stiles and Lydia's bodies were laid on the floor, holding hands as if they were only asleep. Scott couldn't bring himself to look at either them. The imagine of Stiles jumping in front of the gun to protect Lydia burned into his mind like an iron. Stiles usually had a profound dumb luck when it came to not getting shot. He guessed that his luck had run out.
He couldn't get Lydia's scream out of his mind, it was agonizing. What was more gut wrenching? That or the fact that she died only moments later?
Derek was right laid beside them, his lifeless eyes had forgotten to be shut. Scott's entire life, Derek had told him to be wary of hunters. They would feel no remorse if they killed you, and as it turns out..
Derek was right.
Chris ran away to France, and every fiber of Scott's being hated him for it.
Kira had died days ago, they only found her sword.
Jackson was slumped against one of the cabinets, his face swollen from the wolfsbane injections. Scott wanted to gag at the sight.
As much as he tried to push the thought away, his mind kept coming back to Malia, who's body was in too many pieces to bring back to the bunker.
And Ethan? Well, let's just say he was with his brother now.

Scott's world was spinning. He had failed.
He had failed them all.
He ran to the nearest trashcan, puking out all of his emotions.
Scott felt a warm hand on his back. For a moment, he thought it was Allison, welcoming him to death. He relaxed a little bit, he was ready. 
But then he realized it was Isaac, and was slightly disappointed.
Isaac handed him a bottle of water. "You're getting dehydrated. Drink."
It was lukewarm and disgusting, but Scott savored every gulp. He couldn't remember the last night he ate, much less drank. A little part of him wished he could get drunk.
He exhaled when he finished the bottle, wiping his mouth. "Thanks."
Isaac nodded, tossing it in the trash. "You need to sit down."
"I'm not-"
"Tired?" Isaac said, finishing his sentence. He paused. "You're pushing yourself too much."
"No, I'm not-
"Scott."
He couldn't tell what his eyes jumped to first. The long gash on Isaac's cheek had clotted, but was still bright red. His hair was dirty to the point where he looked like a brunette. Isaac looked at him with determination, even though Scott had accepted that this was the end. Despite their circumstances, his eyes still shone like the ocean. Scott seemed to think that they were able to hypnotize you, and thank god for that. It put him to ease.
Reluctantly, Scott pulled up a chair and sat down. He could feel himself fighting every urge to cry. Despite the water, his throat was raw and burning. His eyes burned from exhaustion, but Scott had no intention of taking a nap.
"How's your cut?" Scott asked. Isaac touched his face, gingerly.
"The wolfsbane didn't help. It might scar."
"Don't worry, you'll look badass," Scott joked. He tried to muster up a smile, but his eyes kept returning to the bodies in front of him. Isaac laughed a bit, but then noticed his grim expression. He kneeled next to Scott, looking him in the face.
"It's okay of you need to cry."
"I'm okay, Isaac. Really."
"I can smell the grief on you. You're not okay. If you want, I can-"
"There's no point, Isaac!" Scott snapped, throwing his hands up. "They're all dead! Everyone is dead! There's nothing you can do to change that!"
He was quiet. "I'm not."
The boys stared at each other for an eternity. Scott felt something deep in his stomach twinge.
"You will be, so will I."
Isaac looked hurt. "Don't say that. Don't you dare-"
"You can't deny fate, Isaac."
"I don't believe in fate." He argued
"Neither did Allison."
Finally, Isaac was silenced. His expression turned stone cold.
Isaac stood, and in one sullen movement, walked over to Stiles' body. He leaned over it, stuck his hand into the bullet wound, and pulled something out.
The squish of Stiles' organs made Scott wince. He squirmed in the chair.

His hand now covered in blood, Isaac grabbed Scott's wrist, and slammed the bullet into his palm.
"Look at it."
Scott turned away. "No."
"Scott-"
"I don't want to!" He roared.
Isaac lowered himself to meet Scott's eyes. "This, is what killed your best friend. A tiny chunk of metal. What, are you afraid of it?"
"No," he growled.
"Then look at it!"
With a great effort, Scott forced his gaze onto the bullet. It was stupidly puny. The casing seemed to mock him, taunting him with the memories of Stiles. In a single shot, Scott's best friend became nothing but a body, food for the maggots.
Enraged, he screamed and threw it at all the wall. Tears of furious anger streamed down his face.
Isaac looked remorseful.

"Promise me something." Scott said quietly, trembling.
"Anything."
Scott took a shaky breath. "I can't be the last one standing," Scott said, pleadingly. "I just can't."
Isaac blinked, taking in a deep breath. He contemplated the idea. For a brief moment, Scott feared he would say no.

"Okay."

And with that, the door to the bunker flew open.