Blind Loyalty | Stiles & Scott
It made sense to send Jackson and Ethan into the school for reinforcements right away; they could fight. With Lydia to lead them. Hopefully. Stiles stayed in the Jeep, combining the the too-large bags of mountain ash stolen from the militia's prison with the too-small vials that Deaton kept into more reasonably sized containers–seriously, why did no one just store this stuff in a way that was easy to carry into a fight??
He looked up at the sound of the heavy double doors opening again, and it was Lydia running down the steps. She practically slammed into the door to the Jeep with how fast she was running.
“Monroe’s people are in there WITH the anuk-ite,” she declared through her panting breaths. “Which means everyone is in danger. We need you.”
Stiles finished screwing the lid on his new handheld anti-supernatural weapon. “I’m on it!”
He scrambled out of the Jeep and both friends ran together into the dark school building. They reached the first major fork in the hallway and skidded to a halt. “Which way?” the human queried. “Do you hear anything? Where’s Scott and the others?”
The banshee cooked her head, her eyes getting that faraway look that they did when she was using her powers. “All I hear is Monroe’s people.” Lydia’s gaze refocused on Stiles for a moment before she gasped, hair flying as she spun to face something down the down the hall that caught her attention. She whirled back to face Stiles, expression panicked now. “I’ll stall the militia. You have to find Scott.” Lydia pointed to the jar of mountain ash in the human’s hands, their only weapon against the supernatural threat, and Stiles the only one who could wield it.
As his childhood crush sprinted off in one direction, Stiles took off down the other hall.
Where would Scott lead it? The whole campus was his territory, the whole town, the alpha could fight anywhere with confidence. But the anuk-ite would be most drawn to Scott if he was in a place where it could make him afraid... What was Scott most afraid of? In the school?
Sophomore year, he always dreaded setting foot inside Mr. Harris' chemistry classroom? The lacrosse field or locker room where Scott was always afraid of letting down his teammates?
But as Stiles' sneakers pounded the linoleum and the cold shiver of fear trickled down his spine, he realized two things that his subconscious already knew:
One: The anuk-ite must have Scott cornered in the library. Where the alpha had once DIED, at the hands of his beta, betrayed and alone, breaking his mother's heart. Where Stiles had once run for his life from a a boy trying to kill him, but killed the boy instead, afraid of what his best friend would think. Where the witchhunts for supernatural creatures had started with random hand-stabbings. Where a bunch of other scary stuff had happened, enough to feed a fear-monster for decades.
Two: It occurred to Stiles that there WAS something that frightened the pants off of him even more than the idea of fighting this monster blind--the thought of losing Scott to it. Making his best friend face his fears, face the anuk-ite, blind and alone. Because even though Stiles could FEEL the chill of dread that froze his bones and spiked his adrenaline, he was only drawn CLOSER to that feeling. Terrifying images of being too late flashed through his mind as he ran headlong towards the danger, because that danger was threatening his Best. Friend.
Almost to the library, Stiles could hear Scott's voice, his tone triumphant, and felt a weight lifting from his shoulders because he WASN'T too late. And in a second he was through the doors, skidding to a stop and sighting his target, in all it’s gross, scary, glowy-eyed glory. He hurled the mason jar of a mountain ash like a grenade, and it smashed on the floor, and Stiles willed it, just like Deaton taught him, to surround his enemy, to keep away from his friend. The ash rose up to cover the monster, which cracked and solidified and screamed, dying (probably, hopefully) a more permanent death.
And then everything was okay, Scott was oka--shit, “Scott, your FACE!” and the human was sliding across the floor again, arms out to comfort his friend.
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