When all is said and done

Stiles hadn't been possessed for days. Days. As in, they already had Allison's funeral, her dad already left for France with Isaac, and he was starting to gain some of his strength back. Well, his physical strength, anyways. Mentally, Stiles had no idea how he was doing, he felt too numb half the time to even get out of bed. At least, that's what he told himself and others. Truth? He felt defeated. Like part of him died with the Nogitsune. What part of him died, what part was missing? Optimism, joy, self-love. Sure, he still loved his friends and family, so much in fact, he'd have died for them if they would have let him. And now? Now he actually wished he were dead.

He was sitting on Scott's bed, where he had been staying ever since 'that night'. His dad was working overtime to fix everything HE had destroyed and his dad didn't want to leave him in a house by himself. Some nights, when he and Scott got tired of each other, he'd call Lydia up and ask to spend the night. But that was only if he could forget that he was responsible for Aiden's death too.

Everything was all his fault,

Every battle,

Every death,

It's not your fault, they said, none of this is on you,

But Stiles knew that it was a bunch of bullshit,

Everything was his fault,

E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G

You don't agree? No?

To Stiles it was. If he had never dragged Scott out of his house, at ass'o clock, he never would have gotten bit by Peter. They never would have brought the Nemeton back to life, which means he never would have gotten possessed by the Nogitsune, the Oni would never have killed Allison or Aiden.

So, yes. For Stiles, everything was set into motion by him. If he had taken his medication that day, or rather, the appropriate amount, they probably would never had been out in the dark woods. Just if he could have learned to mind his own damned business and not listen into his fathers phone calls.

He was facing the wall in Scott's room, away from the door and window. Scott will smell the blood, a part of him told himself. I don't care, the other part said. He gripped the blade tighter. Besides, if he kills himself, blood will be everywhere anyways. If you're going to do it, do it in the bathroom, logic told him. But no, he wanted to do it here, in his second room. Better yet go to your own home, do it in your own room. If he went home though, it could be days before someone found him. Or would they be worried when they couldn't get a hold of him and start looking?

He didn't care,

Numb,

Numb was one thing that he was NOT. The rush of emotions that flooded through him as he made the first slice was almost too much and he almost stopped. Almost. But he couldn't stop. Not after the second, third, seventh. He just kept going. Crimson dripping, no... running down his arm and staining Scott's bedding.

Sixteen,

16,

Six-teen,

At sixteen, he stopped. Dizzy, he told himself, too dizzy to keep going. But Stiles wasn't a quitter. No. That was the last thing he was. Ironic, how he's trying to quit living. He placed the blade back on his torn up arm, a ping himself up for the last one.

Applied pressure,

The corner of the blade bit into his arm, blood bubbling up around it,

BANG,

TACKLE,

Scott had thrown the door open at the first smell of blood, tackling Stiles to the ground. He knocked the blade out of his best friend, no... his brothers hand and looked with wide, shocked eyes. Stiles' cloths were covered in blood.

So much blood,

He inhaled. Bad idea. The metallic bloody scent filled his nostrils and he almost chocked, almost. Instead, instinct kicked in. He pressed his hands down on Stiles' arm, trying to control to bleeding. Stiles whimpered and tried to squirm away weakly pleading with Scott to just let him die because he wasn't worth all the lives that were lost.

Scott could disagree,

And he would,

He screamed for his mom, using a loud, yet strangled cry. He wrapped him up in his arms, while waiting for his mom, and somehow still managed to keep pressure on his bleeding wounds. You're going to be okay, he promised, I'm going to fix you. This wasn't like having Allison die in his arms, no, it was much worst. Sure, Allison was his first girl friend, his first love. So many firsts. But Stiles...,

Stiles,

Stiles was more of a real brother than most people had with their biological siblings. Before Allison, he was his everything. Not in a gay, or creepy way.

Brothers,

Brothers don't let brother die.

Scott? Yeah, Scott was his brother. And there was no way in hell he was going to let His brother die in his arms, not that night.

Not any night.