Trust

Scott sat on the floor outside the bedroom, his back pressed against the wall and his head in his hands with his knees pulled into his chest. He just wanted this all to be over. He wanted the chaos to be over and his friend to be back to normal, at least as normal as Stiles could ever be. Scott was so absorbed in his own thoughts he didn't notice his mom and the sheriff walk up the stairs to stand over him. He jumped when a hand touched his knee. "Sorry, I just…um, he's sleeping again. At least, that's what he told me but he's not really sleeping. Apparently, Stiles lies to me when he doesn't know who I am." He gave a bitter laugh but his heart had broken in a hundred ways in the hour it took for their parents to get there as Stiles had lied to him and asked obvious questions.

(Earlier)

Stiles tried to get out of the bed, but a terrible pain in his head and chest had him crashing to the floor which caused the boy from earlier to come running into the room with a worried expression. "St-Are you okay? What happened?" The tanned, dark-haired boy was instantly by his side.

The teen on the floor looked down to see bandaging covering his chest. "That's what I'm trying to figure out." Stiles, who didn't know he was Stiles, looked up at Scott. "Who am I? What happened? Who are you?" His questions just kept pouring out as panic started to rise up from deep within him, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"You need to calm down, okay? We're going to figure this out but you have to stay calm, you have to trust me." Scott went to put his hands on Stiles' shoulders, to help calm his best friend down, but Stiles flinched away, causing a slight pain to rip through Scott's chest. But Scott wasn't going to let that bother him, of course Stiles was scared. Hell, Scott would be terrified in this situation. But deep down, this was Stiles he was dealing with and he knew Stiles and Stiles knew him even if he didn't remember. "You can trust me. You know you can trust me, right? You trust me?"

The hurt teen backed himself up against the wall and nodded as he tried to even out his breath. "Yeah, I trust you." But underneath the words Scott heard a blip in his heartbeat, and all the air in Scott's lungs disappeared: Stiles didn't trust him.

Pulling himself up off the floor Scott straightened his shirt. "I tried to get him something to eat but he said he wasn't hungry, even though his stomach was growling louder than Derek when he's annoyed." Scott had to stay positive; he had to joke because Stiles wasn't in the right mind to do it himself. "I think he was getting annoyed with me, that's why he lied about needing a nap."

Melissa gave a soft smile and put a hand on her son's shoulder. "It's going to be okay Scott, we've talked about this. We just have to keep Stiles clueless long enough for the Nogitsune to reappear and we can kill it once and for all. Just last night Derek said that him and Isaac caught its scent and Chris was working with Deaton, they think they've found a way to actually kill the thing. We'll all make it through this and then we can…"

"We can what? Tell Stiles all about the life that put him in this situation?" A dark looking sheriff spat from behind Melissa, causing both McCall's to jump a little. The sheriff looked so tired, dark circles under his eyes and his skin almost paler than Stiles'. "Look, all I'm saying is that maybe this memory loss is a gift, not just a weapon. We don't have to tell Stiles about werewolves, kanimas, foxes, and demons. We could just let him live a normal teenage life after all of this is done. We could…"

"What? We could let him live in ignorant bliss? When has that ever worked for him? Stiles has never been the type to not question, to not want to know everything. It would kill him…how could you even…Stilinski." Melissa stood up for the boy she considered her own.

But Scott thought about what the sheriff was saying, thought about Stiles being safe. He could really protect his best friend. He could even have a taste of that life, even if it meant he was living a double life. Could he lie to Stiles, though? But there were more important matters at the moment. "Look, we can discuss this later. We have more pressing concerns, like Stiles waiting in the next room. We've agreed that we can't tell him anything but what exactly are we going to tell him? I mean, we have to give him a name. He keeps asking who he is and we're going to have to call him something. What do we call him?"

Sheriff Stilinski straightened his uniform. "What we call any other person in his situation." He stepped past the mother and son, gliding into the room where his son was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. It took every ounce of self-control not to launch himself at his son and wrap him into a hug. He wanted to grab his son and just run away but he knew that wasn't the answer. "John Doe." He kept his voice steady, professional, forever the sheriff.

Stiles jumped up in the bed. "Wh-Who are you?"

Pushing passed the hurt in his heart, the sheriff walked further into the room keeping on a stony expression. "I'm the sheriff of Beacon Hills. My friend here is a nurse and is going to check over you to make sure you're okay, alright?" His was soft but stern, the way he spoke to suspects or young criminals not the way he spoke to his son.

Once Stiles nodded Melissa stepped forward with her warming nurse smile, not her motherly smile. "Alright, let me check those stitches on your chest first, they were pretty nasty. Then I'll check your head and neck, okay?" She always let her patients know what she was going to do before she touched them, and Stiles was a patient not a pseudo-son.

Again the boy nodded. "I'll go get you something to eat, like soup or something since you haven't really eaten in a while." Scott needed to leave; he couldn't stand to see the sheriff and his mom treat Stiles like he was some stranger, some suspect or some patient. It was sick. So he darted from the room before he threw up or let go any essential information to go make Stiles some soup. It wasn't the first time he'd made Stiles soup. He knew how the kid liked it but he found himself staring at the bowl wondering if he should mess it up, make something different so that it won't spark a memory or make the teen suspicious. But Scott just couldn't do it. He wanted Stiles to have his favorite soup.

When Scott made it back to the room Stiles had new dressing on his chest, a new bandage on the back of his neck, and Melissa was shining a light in his eyes while asking a series of questions. "Yeah, I get it; I don't know anything, okay? I could have just told you that." Stiles pushed away the hand holding the light. "Can't anyone fill in the gaps for me?"
"I'm afraid not. You will just have to figure it out on your own." Melissa said vaguely as she stepped away from the bed gathering her nursing supplies. "Other than the memory loss, you're in good health. The injuries are healing nicely. You aren't even showing signs of a concussion."

Stiles ran a hand over his face as Scott set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand. "Well that's just great, I'm freaking perfect! But no one can tell me who I am or what happened! That's just fantastic. I'm just peachy, over-joyed with…" He was stopped by a chuckle that escaped from Scott, happy to hear his friend's ranting. "What? You think this is funny crooked-jaw?"

The smile fell from Scott's face. "I'd rather have a crooked jaw than a useless memory." For a second he worried he'd gone too far but Stiles smiled, he actually smiled. It was the first sign of hope since the teen had woken up. And the parents left to discuss Stiles in private while Scott got Stiles to eat. "Well, it could be a good thing. Maybe you were a complete ass or really annoying or something."

The pale teen shrugged as he cooled a bit of soup on the spoon. "Being a complete ass would be better than being John Doe. I mean, who even came up with the name?" He cocked his head to the side. "You know, I have a weird feeling that I know where that name came from. It's like this random fact that's out there in the fog."

Scott smiled slightly, trying to keep the worried frown from taking over his face. "Is there a lot in the fog that you can see? Like anything specific?" He worried that Derek hadn't taken everything.

After taking a few spoonfuls of soup Stiles shook his head. "Not really, it's just like my whole head is full of fog and I can't see anything but shadows that don't make any sense. It's like everything is just gone, completely gone, and all that's left are these shadows. You know, like when you clean out an attic or garage that's been full for a long time and all that's left are the dark spaces where the dust hadn't been able to settle? That's kind of what it's like. I don't know how else to explain it. And then…" Stiles hesitated, and then he put down the bowl of soup. "I had this weird dream."

"What do you mean?" Scott tried not to scoot forward into Stiles personal space, because it was personal space now not just Stiles' space he could invade.

Gathering his thoughts, Stiles closed his eyes and brought his knees to his chest. "There was someone there, their face was covered in bandages but their voice sounded so familiar. They kept saying that it wasn't real. They said I shouldn't trust anyone. They said not to believe I was awake." He opened his eyes. "And I mean, how do I know if that's not real? I do I know if this is real? How do I know if I'm awake, really awake?" Panic was starting to build in his chest again.

Scott held up his hands. "A good friend, a best friend, told me once that in dreams you have extra fingers. So count the fingers." He wiggled his fingers with a smiled.

Stiles stared as his friend's fingers for a long time before he spoke again in a small voice. "How do I know who to trust?" Scott had no answer. He'd never had to tell Stiles to trust him or how to trust him before, he always just did.

Across town Deaton set down a tiny scroll on the exam table, leaning against it. "This is going to be harder than Scott thought." He looked up at the hunter he had once questioned. The hunter he had once helped fight against.

Chris, his face gaunt and looking a bit haunted ever since the death of his daughter, looked only at the scroll. "All our contacts say the same thing. This is the only way to kill a Nogitsune. I even went to talk to Kira's mother. We're lucky in a way; we are in a perfect situation to finally kill this thing once and for all. It just won't be the way Scott expected it to go."

"It will be the first real test of his true alpha abilities." The vet smiled. "I always had faith in him, believed in him. And I still do."

Chris scoffed. "Why, because of his great work ethic?"

Deaton smiled fondly, shaking his head. "No, because of his pure heart and his friendship with Stiles; he's the most grounded werewolf I've ever met. Together, there's nothing those two can't accomplish. I think that's why this task fell upon them. Destiny is a finicky mistress."

A darkness fell over Chris' face. "Was it destiny that my only daughter, my baby girl, had to die?"

"No, the death of an innocent is never something the universe plans for or wants. That's why there are those like Scott and Stiles: to banish the darkness that takes innocence away from our world. No one can make the world perfect but some can help. Some will make a difference even if no one knows it. And I believe Scott and Stiles will do just that. Trust me."

/Poor Stiles! Well, next chapter there will be more action: the final fight with the Nogitsune. I make no promises on finishing it soon though, finals are coming up. But I'll try my hardest. So yeah, thank you so so much for reading, please pretty please review and let me know what you think, and have a wonderful day!