Disclaimer: TW and it's characters do not belong to me... a sad/cute on shot, hope you all like as much as I did writing it :)

Stiles stared at the freshly filled grave with a heavy heart, his eyes shining with tears as he tried his best to hold back his emotions. This week wasn't about him or Lydia or Scott, it wasn't about fighting the next big bad or stressing over how much they were all starting to suck at school, no...it was about honouring a fallen friend. About remembering the good and happy times even if that felt impossible.

He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Allison was gone. Gone forever. He still expected to see her and Scott sharing longing stares across the corridor or her and Lydia laughing over the next gossip magazine. He still wanted to get texts from her and stupid facebook notifications. He yearned to just hear her voice again, that delightful soft hum that was always so gentle and caring because it would feel like music to his ears.

Just because he didn't love her in the way Scott did, or the way Lydia did, or the way Isaac was starting to before all of this happened it didn't mean he didn't love her. Because he did. She was his friend. His ally. His sister. His throat ached as he felt his body clenching up, desperately trying to hold back the tears that wanted to stream down his cheeks.

Allison... sweet, caring, loyal Allison was gone. And it was his fault.

The others would deny this of course. That was just what they did. But no matter what they said it didn't make the guilt go away. The guilt that he had killed his friend. That he had murdered her.

Allison was dead, rotting under the ground all because of him. She died in agonising pain, bleeding out on the ground, her heart stopping because Stiles was weak. He was weak. He couldn't stop it. It felt like he didn't even try. His friend, the one that had constantly scarified herself for him, was just an empty shell now, nothing left of her bar memories and a few keepsakes.

Stiles screwed his eyes shut as he felt tears prickling their way forward, his hands clenching at his sides, nails digging into his palms. By now Allison wouldn't even look like Allison. Her fair flawless skin would be mottled and shrivelled, her beautiful brown locks would be dry and brittle and her endearing warm coffee coloured orbs would no longer open.

And that was something he would probably miss the most. Her eyes. It seemed simple but whenever he looked into Allison's delicate cinnamon eyes he would feel calm and safe. She had that effect on people you see. A natural leader. She could calm him down even if she, too, felt panicked. He would find himself immediately relaxing as her doe eyes met his. And that was a great quality to have.

Stiles knew he shouldn't feel guilty but he just... did. He couldn't help it. He watched the others closely and although they didn't treat him any differently, every time he saw their pained looks it felt like a knife to the heart. But a knife to the heart would probably hurt less.

He just wanted Allison back... that was all. Surely that wasn't much to ask for right?

He just felt void. Running on auto-pilot. Empty. He couldn't function properly. He didn't sleep. Hardly ate. It was a mixture between the pain and guilt he had buried in his chest, ready to explode at any moment. And that was what it felt like. Like he could just breakdown at any moment because he was literally hanging on by a thread. He was spiralling out of control.

He had let Allison down. When she was there fighting for good and being loyal, he hadn't been. He was tainted now, dirty, evil... he had Allison's blood on his hands and it was on his hands alone. He would wake up gasping for breath, sweat running down his back as he screamed out Allison's name, desperately trying to scrub off the ever constant blood stains on his hands. It didn't work. They still remained, etched deep into his skin, like a scar... or a tattoo... ephemeral.

Allison went down fighting. A hero. His hero. She saved them all. She was like the brightest star in the sky, one that would never be forgotten.

But she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to die. She had barely begun her life when it was snatched away from her and maybe that made it worse. She was a teenager, a teenager that got dragged into this and maybe that was Stiles' fault too. He basically forced Scott out into the woods that night of the full moon did he not? Demanding they find a body? This was all his fault. All these deaths, all these accidents were all linked to him. All because his curiosity got the better of him.

It should be him laying there in that coffin, cold... unmoving... dead. He deserved that after all. He deserved everything that came to him but Allison didn't. Allison deserved to live. To be anything she wanted to be. She deserved to be alive.

"I'm sorry Allison" Stiles croaked out in a hushed voice, standing at the foot on the freshly dug soil, his eyes gliding over the assortment of beautiful flowers that lay over her grave, "I'm sorry... god I'm so sorry"

And he was. Deeply and forever sorry. He would do anything to get Allison back, to hear her laugh or watch her kick some serious ass... anything. His friend that meant more to him that many thought.

"You... you meant a lot to me, even if I didn't show it at times but I sure as hell felt it" He whispered, burning hot tears starting to slide down his cheeks, "You are... were-" He corrected, his stomach twisting in knots at that correction, "-so important... so special and I... I just-" He started to get choked up, his face flushing with emotion, "-I just miss you so much" And it was true... whole-heartedly and inexplicitly.

His friend that he would never see again. Never speak to. Never listen to.

"I keep thinking that I'll see you and Lydia prancing about at Macy's or get some annoying game request on facebook from you, which by the way so not cool" He let out forced chuckle, half of him expecting to hear her airy laugh but it didn't happen. It would never happen again. "It's like... like I can't let go of you... you know?" And he wanted an answer. He needed an answer. But of course he didn't get one because Allison wasn't just 'gone'... she was six feet under trapped in an oak coffin, her vocal chords slowly beginning to corrode and disintegrate.

And that caused him nightmares.

The idea that loving Allison, beautiful Allison, joyful Allison wasn't 'Allison' anymore... she wasn't anything. That her body was falling apart, crumbling, rotting...

Stiles physically shook his head, his face screwing up. No. No. That was not happening to his friend. It wasn't. It couldn't. Except... it was.

"God Allison... why you? Why did you have to be the brave one?" He demanded, his voice shaking, "I know it's too late to say this, and I should've said it before but... but I-I... I-" His voice was wobbling, knees starting to shake, "I love you Allison... and you were a great friend... the best" He forced himself to chuckle, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly, "We all love you... I just hope you knew that"

And he had never spoken more truer words than those. It was hard not to love Allison. To love her light. To love who she was, faults and all. So no, he didn't love her the same way Scott did, or Lydia, or the way Isaac was starting to... but it didn't mean he didn't love her in his own screwed up way. She meant more to him than just a 'simple acquaintance' because she was his friend, his friend that he would do anything for.

"G-Goodbye" He stuttered, forcing himself to stare at the rich soil that covered her, keeping her warm and protected from the outside world that she had left, enveloped in a tight comforting hug, "Goodbye Allison"

He would never hear that angelic voice again, no matter how much he prayed.

A/n) yes I love angst and hurt Stiles, sue me! Haha! Well I hope you liked this, I just had to type it up haha, any thoughts would be greatly appreciated you awesome people :) x