Right Beside You | Stiles Stilinski | Two

30 - Confessions

"Come on, Scott, pick up the phone. Just pick up the phone, Scott. This is a life or death mission, so I know you're paying attention, so I know you're going to pick—goddamnit! Scott, pick up. Pick up now. We've got like fifty feet of ash left, and we're out. Okay? So you got to get your wolf ass down here and help us because I don't know what we're doing. And I'm just standing out here and I—I'm hearing gunfire and werewolves and I'm—I'm standing here like a frickin' idiot with a handful of magic fairy dust. Okay?"

Stiles ended the call with a strangled noise of frustration. I let my head fall back against the wall of the warehouse, where I was sitting on the ground, legs kicked out over my sweatshirt again. We'd been outside for a while now, calling everyone from Scott to Deaton. With all our luck so far, as well as the ongoing gunfight, it wasn't a surprise that no one picked up. That didn't stop us from trying though. What other choice did we have?

Stiles sagged back against the wall next to me. "You know, I'm starting to get really painful flashbacks of the last time Scott didn't pick up his phone."

I smiled ruefully up at him. "You mean the day I finally bullied you into telling me about werewolves? Because I consider that the basis of our relationship."

"Yeah, well it was also the day my dad got hit by a car. Overall, a pretty crappy memory."

"You're right." I grabbed his hand, helping myself up to my feet and refusing to let go once I was upright. "Which is why we're going to get out of this the same way we got through that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means screw everyone else. As usual, you and I are gonna figure this shit out on our own."

Stiles let out a dry bark of laughter, but shook his head. "Well, unless you were reading up on the intricate uses of mountain ash with Erica, I don't know how we're gonna do that."

"Look, Deaton said it was about believing, right? So maybe it's like Bethsaida."

"...Bethesda?"

"Bethsaida," I corrected with a smirk. "The feeding of multitudes. It's a Bible story, the one where Jesus feeds like a thousand people with two fish and some bread."

"So...you want me...to be Jesus? Scarlett, I can't even pass Chemistry, let alone perform miracles!"

"I'm not asking you to—"

"Yeah, you are! Do you see this?" He held his hand up and practically shoved the mountain ash in my face. "This? This needs a miracle!"

"I think it looks like there's more than there was before."

Stiles gave me an incredulous look and jabbed a finger at the pavement. "It's not going to cover this okay? It doesn't matter what I believe. Those are just the facts."

"Then stop thinking with the facts," I begged. I looked around the parking lot in desperation before grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to face a dark car parked nearby. I reached over his shoulder to point at the bumper. "Look at that! See? What does that say?"

"What? The—the bumper sticker? 'Imagination is more important than knowledge'...Albert Einstein..."

"Exactly." I pulled him around to face me again, taking a step closer and laying my hands on his shoulders. "I'm not asking you to give me a miracle. I'm asking you to take a second to put the facts aside and imagine this working. I'm asking you to believe that a little bit goes a long way. I'm asking you to be the guy who convinced me that werewolves existed even though I knew for a fact that they couldn't be real. Who figured it out before anyone else, with almost no proof! You are always that person. You are the one who—who completely defies the facts. You can do this, Stiles. If anyone I know can do this, it's you."