The doorbell rang before Scott could fully settle. He opened the door to find Stiles standing there, backpack slung over one shoulder and that familiar anxious energy radiating off him.
"About time," Scott said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Stiles stepped inside, looking around with sharp, calculating eyes. "You sent the text like it was an emergency. What's going on?"
Scott shook his head. "Not an emergency. I just need guidance. Deaton can help."
They walked together to the clinic, the quiet of the evening pressing around them. Scott could feel the Alpha instinct pulsing beneath his skin. Every sound, every subtle shift in the air, every flicker of movement was amplified, alerting him to potential danger. It was both exhilarating and grounding.
Stiles noticed his intensity and gave him a cautious glance. "You look… different," he said. "More focused."
Scott nodded. "I have to be. I've faced a lot of Alphas before, and I know what I don't want to be. I want to be someone worthy. Someone strong, someone who protects, not just reacts. And I want you to be by my side. I need you to be my emissary, Stiles. Someone who can speak for me, act for me, someone I can trust completely. But I need you here to learn how to do it properly."
Stiles blinked, processing the weight of the words. "Your emissary? That's… a lot of responsibility."
Scott met his gaze. "I know. But if I am going to be a true Alpha, I need someone I can trust implicitly. Someone who understands me, my instincts, my limits. I want you to be that person. And I need Deaton to teach us how to do it right."
Deaton stepped forward with calm authority as they entered the clinic. "Scott, Stiles," he said, eyes scanning them both. "I understand the request. Being an emissary is a serious role. Stiles, you will learn how to guide, advise, and act for Scott, while also understanding the responsibilities that come with being the Alpha's right hand."
Scott nodded. "That's why I brought him here. I want to do this properly. I don't want mistakes that could cost anyone their life."
Deaton gestured for them to move to the training room. It was small but practical, with padded floors, a few weighted objects, and training dummies scattered around. The walls were lined with shelves of books and artifacts, evidence of years spent studying the supernatural.
"Control comes first," Deaton said. "Strength and speed without control can be dangerous. You will learn to focus your instincts and sharpen your mind. Stiles, you will observe, learn, and practice alongside him. You will need to anticipate his needs, understand his cues, and act without hesitation."
Scott listened intently. Every word resonated. He had seen Alphas who had power but no control, and he knew the consequences. He did not want to be like them.
Deaton began with awareness exercises. Scott was instructed to move through the room with his eyes closed, relying solely on his heightened senses. He could hear Stiles' heart beating faster as he counted steps, feel the subtle pressure of the air around him, detect the faintest scent of herbs Deaton had placed in the corners. Every sense sharpened, every movement precise.
"Focus on the instinct," Deaton said. "Let it guide you, but do not let it control you. Scott, you must lead your instincts. Stiles, you must learn to read him. Both of you must work together."
Scott's body responded naturally. He could feel the strength building, the coordination of his limbs, the rhythm of his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the room. He moved with confidence. Stiles watched carefully, learning to anticipate the subtle cues in Scott's movements, every twitch, every breath.
Hours passed in a blur of motion, sound, and concentration. Scott pushed himself harder than he had in years. Every punch, dodge, and movement was deliberate, calculated, and precise. Stiles followed, noting patterns, anticipating next steps, ready to react when needed. Sweat dripped down Scott's face, but he relished the pain. It meant progress. It meant growth.
Deaton observed silently, occasionally offering guidance or corrections. "Good," he said. "You are learning quickly. But physical ability is only one part of your training. You must also learn strategy, prediction, and leadership. Stiles, you will need to practice interpreting Scott's intentions and making decisions when he cannot. Scott, you must trust him completely while leading wisely."
Scott swallowed and nodded. He could feel Stiles beside him, the familiar presence grounding him. Stiles' unwavering support reminded him he was not alone, even when the road ahead seemed impossible.
By the end of the session, Scott was exhausted, but his mind was sharper than it had been in years. Deaton's gaze softened. "Tomorrow, we will begin tactical exercises. You will learn to anticipate threats, make split-second decisions, and protect others effectively. Leadership is more than strength; it is vision, clarity, and trust in those you rely on."
Scott nodded firmly. "We are ready."
Stiles grinned, bumping Scott's shoulder lightly. "I hope so. Because I am not letting you slack off."
Scott allowed himself a small smile in return. For the first time, he felt purpose, clarity, and the reassurance that Stiles would be there to support him, to act as his emissary, and to grow alongside him. The Alpha instinct pulsed steadily, guiding his every move.
Training was only beginning, but Scott felt more prepared than ever to face the challenges ahead.