Blind Trust

Author's note: Hello! I've recently discovered Teen Wolf and binged through the show and movie (better late than never right?). This is my take on the season 6 finale. Reviews are very much welcome. This could be a standalone One Shot or I might keep going. Really, it depends on if people like it. Thanks!

Summary: The Anuk-ite is defeated…but what happens when Scott's eyes do not heal? Lots of wump, hurt/comfort, Scott and Stiles bromance/friendship, very hurt Scott, blind Scott.

Disclaimer: This is a work on fanfiction. Only my own ideas are mine.

Warning: Language, some graphic depictions. Rated M.

Stiles watched in triumph as the swirling black smoke settled around the once formidable Anuk-ite, who was now nothing more than a glorified Greek statue. The smoke withdrew back into the darkness of the library, swallowed altogether by the shadows of the looming bookshelves.

It was over.

He smiled, a tidal wave of sheer and absolute relief washing through him. The mother of all fuckers - the Anuk-ite - was gone. His friends were alright. Everything was going to be alright. Stiles exhaled, letting out a steady breath, that he hadn't even been aware that he was holding. Really, he hadn't breathed since Chris called. In an instant, he was running from his class, bailing into his jeep and madly driving from the FBI back to Beacon Hills.

In the library, looking past the statue, he beamed at Scott.

And that's when his smile faltered, slipping away.

Scott was swaying where he stood, crimson blood still sliding down his face from both his eyes. Well…from where his eyes had been. Should have been.

He looked pale, fangs receding.

His legs buckled.

Stiles rushed forward, quickly closing the gap between them before Scott had the chance to hit the ground. Haphazardly, clumsily, Stiles grabbed at Scott's shirt, holding him steady. "Whoa – whoa - whoa - dude. I got you. Take it easy, Scott."

He felt Scott's arm wrap around his back, clutching tightly.

"I'm okay," he rasped. "I'm not hurt."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, slightly dumbfounded but not at all surprised at his friend's stoic attempt at disguising his pain. "Dude, if only you could see the look on my face, because it's a look that says, that you're sooo full of shit." Stiles adjusted his grip, checking his footing on the stairs. "Now sit down. Like right now. Like yesterday, actually."

For a moment, Scott looked as though he was going to protest, but then begrudgingly, he nodded.

Slowly, Stiles lowered his friend onto the library steps. It was an awkward decent with Scott's depth perception shot to absolute hell. Stiles could tell by the way Scott flinched, as if the floor had snuck on him, when they ungracefully found the ground. Scott leaned back onto his elbows, untangling himself from Stiles's grasp.

Here, with the pale silver moonlight from the windows hitting his friend's face, Stiles grimaced. To lose your eyes had to – well – it had to suck. His stomach churned. His vision bobbed at the edges, fuzzy and threatening to overtake him. He thought that maybe, one day, he would become accustom to the gore that came with having a werewolf for a best friend, but today was not that day, because Scott's eyes were just gone - which was so entirely wrong on too many levels. Hollow, squishy, mutilated sockets stared back at him. Could sockets stare? He felt like they could by the way that they pierced through him, making his stomach join the circus once more.

He breathed.

His friend needed him.

His friend, who was gonna heal and then be completely okay.

Before Stiles could say anything more, Scott spoke first, his voice echoing around the silence of the library, as if the books were listening. "Are you alight?"

Stiles nodded but quickly realised his mistake. Scott couldn't see him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Th-thanks for making it. The mountain ash; you just seriously just saved my ass."

"What can I say? I guess I'm Batman. You can be Robin. Nobody wants to be Robin."

Scott huffed a laugh, which turned into grimace, fresh blood leaking from his eyes. This new horror prompted Stiles into action, snapping him back into reality with some renewed urgency.

"Annnnd speaking of saving your sorry werewolf ass, you might want to think about healing. Before this," Stiles flurried his hand around Scott's face, "becomes permanent."

Scott nodded, leaning back further onto his elbows, head tilted up to the ceiling as if seeking the moon rays.

Stiles watched on, a silent sentinel whilst his friend healed.

Except…he didn't.

A moment passed.

And then another.

And another.

A slight panic began to tighten Stiles's chest, as if a clawed hand was slowly squeezing the blood from his heart. He could feel his heart thumping in his ribcage; so much so, that every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills could probably hear it too.

A pained grunt from Scott was the tipping point. Stiles couldn't handle the waiting. "What's happening Scott?"

"I don't know," Scott scrunched his face. "It's like…I'm stuck maybe? I can't-"

"Whatdoyamean you can't?" Stiles interrupted, his words blurring together. "That's bullshit. Of course you can."

The library settled into the eerie silence once more, Scott not replying but also, very obviously, not healing. He shook his head, shoulders hunching.

From where he was leaning, Stiles gently reached out to cradle Scott's face in his hands. He chose to ignore the fact that Scott jumped at the touch. "Scott, this is bad man," he smeared his thumb across the other boy's cheek, leaving a track of warm blood behind. "You just have to concentrate, okay?"

"Okay, okay, I can do this."

Stiles didn't let go of Scott. He didn't want to. He cupped the sides of Scott's cheeks, hoping that it would help him focus. Maybe it would ground him. Being an anchor was the least that Stiles could do, after everything. Scott's breathing slowed…

For one blissful moment, Stiles watched as the flesh around where Scott's eyes should have been began to glow. The glow became brighter…

And then Scott screamed.

Stiles watched in terror as his friend's head snapped back, a scream that was raw and wild ripping from his throat, before it was abruptly cut off with a strangled gasp.

Scott listed sideways.

Stiles caught him for the second time, panic now well and truly encasing him. Scott's head flopped into Stile's chest. Stiles could hear him gasping, a wet wheezing sound which Stiles thought he would never have to hear again, considering that the bite had put Scott's asthma days well and truly behind them.

"Scott, Scotty," Stiles tilted Scott's chin up. The pale skin and sweaty hair that greeted him raised the alarm in Stiles's already freaked out brain, pushing the panic button repeatedly. "Scotty – talk to me – you gotta tell me what's wrong…"

"I can't," Scott struggled. "It-it won't."

"Okay, okay, that's alright. Maybe this one is just gonna take a little longer?" Stiles clutched at Scott in his arms, just as he clutched for answers. "Like wounds from an alpha right? You're a True Alpha, the logic checks out."

"That-" Scott nodded, "kinda makes sense."

"You bet your ass it does. Now, what hurts?" Stiles asked before then quickly adding, "and don't you dare say you're fine, because that scream – not fine Scott. What was that?"

Scott opened his mouth to reply but didn't get the chance as the door to the library swung open with a loud crack.

"Scott!"

"Stiles!"

Looking up, Stiles couldn't help but smile as their friends rushed into the library. He caught the eyes of Lydia, silently communicating his worry and fear in one look. She nodded, not needing anything more.

Malia crashed beside Scott, taking up his other side.

Derek stood over them; his face was warped with a concern that Stiles had never seen on him before. It made Stiles nervous.

"What-what happened?" Malia was stammering. "Scott, what happened to your eyes?"

Scott had his hands over hers. "Had to," he struggled with the words. "I'm- s-sorry."

"Scott, you have to heal," Derek's voice shattered what remained of Stiles's hopes. "If your eyes stay like this for much longer, the damage is going to be permanent."

"We've tried," Stiles supplied, feeling a slight tremble start in Scott's body underneath his watchful hands. "He says he's stuck. When he tried harder, it didn't go too well."

"What do you mean?" Malia shot him an accusation look, as if somehow, he was to blame. Stiles understood though. He was just as worried as any of them.

A quiet voice came from between them.

"My head," Scott interrupted, "felt like - it was going to explode."

"We need to get him to Deaton," Derek answered. "Now."

This renewed a flicker of hope in Stiles. Deaton nearly always had the answers. He had come in clutch before, multiple times. Hell, he had saved Stiles from a vengeful and chaotic fox spirit. The man was damn near to a miracle worker.

And he was the best chance they had.

Stiles nodded. "Ready?"

The wobbly nod from Scott did not instil a great amount of confidence in Stiles, but with nothing left to do, he and Derek hauled Scott to his feet.

Once standing, the groan from Scott was enough to make Stiles's heart physically ache for his friend. He held on tighter, adjusting his hold to loop an arm around Scott's waist. Derek followed suit on the other side. Stiles felt Scott's left hand on his shoulder and instinctively he reached up, gripping it with his own, anchoring Scott there. Scott's head hit his chest, sagging and Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he had managed to hold onto consciousness with the sudden change in altitude.

"Still with us?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Scott breathed, "let's get outta here."

Walking forward, Stiles went slow, him and Derek leading Scott down the steps and out of the library.

The others took up posts around them, checking corners for lingering civilians turned reckless hunters.

But there was no one.

No brainwashed school friend came at them with hate in their eyes. No shit scared neighbour tore through them with bullets.

It really was over.

They staggered forward, reaching the front doors of the school and bursting out into the full moon's light.

Parked sideways, with the door still ajar from where he had tumbled out in fear for his friends, Stiles's trusty blue jeep was waiting for them.

The passenger door creaked as Stiles opened it. Slowly, he eased his hold on Scott, making sure that his friend wasn't going to crash to the ground as soon as the support was gone. Derek had backed away, as there was only room for one person to help Scott into the car. And regardless of anything which attempted to break them apart, that person always was and would be, Stiles.

Scott stepped up into the Jeep and instantly settled down into the seat. Stiles resisted the urge to again ask him if he was okay. Instead, he closed the door and moved to the driver's side. Malia and Lydia were quick to climb into the back of the Jeep, no questions asked. Stiles knew that they were coming. The pack bond was strong; they were all in this together, for better or for worse.

Derek had his own keys in hand, turning away. "I'll meet you there," he called over his shoulder.

Wasting no further time, Stiles jumped into the driver's seat, slamming the door closed behind him. Scott already had his head resting on the glass window, small puffs of breath fogging up the glass. He looked like shit. Truly, like absolute shit.

Turning the ignition, the jeep spluttered into life. With precious time licking at the wheels of his car, Stiles tore out of the parking lot and drove away from the school, leaving the Anuk-ite for someone else to explain. He had bigger problems. As he drove, he stole glances towards Scott before peeling his eyes back to the road, breaking almost every speed limit and traffic rule known to man.

He felt a hand on his leg.

It gripped tighter.

Stiles could tell that Scott was scared, though he would never admit it. Stiles could hear it in the slight wheeze of his breaths, and he could feel it in the way Scott gripped onto his leg as a lifeline.

"It's alright dude," Stiles's voice cracked mid-way through the sentence, not helping his conviction, but there was absolute trust between them still; an unbreakable bond which had outlasted demons, twisted chimeras and statue making monsters. He gripped onto Scott's hand. "You trust me, yeah?"

"B-blindly," came the short reply. "Get it?"

Stiles stifled a laugh. "You're an idiot."

Stiles continued to drive into the night, believing and willing, everything to be okay.

"We're gonna fix this," Stiles promised, seeing the lights on the animal clinic in the distance.

Scott smiled. "You always do."