Nobody thought that Stiles would be there that night. Or that the omega werewolf would go for the only human, the only person that was defenseless save for a wooden bat.

Now here they were exactly seven days later standing at the Stilinski boy's funeral. There wasn't a dry eye at the cemetery as the casket was lowered into the earth.

Sheriff Stilinski was leaning on Melissa for support as he openly and unashamedly sobbed at the sight of the matching gravestones.

His wife and his son, both gone before their time. He had nobody left in the house he called home. The house that somehow seemed too big and too empty without his vivacious son in it. He had just gotten Stiles back from the ghost riders, he had just remembered his boy and now he was gone.

Meanwhile Scott was not fairing any better. He was staring blankly at the words on the tombstone in disbelief. He couldn't process the thought of Stiles being gone forever.

'M. 'Stiles' Stilinski

Loving son and friend

He will be forever missed'

The inscription just didn't do Stiles justice, Scott thought. He was much more than just a son and friend. He was a brother. Stiles was Scott's brother and he couldn't live without him. He wouldn't only be missed, he would be mourned day after day and not once forgotten.

Lydia was a wreck. She had been sobbing nonstop for a week since Stiles had taken his last breath. Everything had been great, perfect even, since they had gotten Stiles back four months ago. They had finally admitted their love for one another. Well if she was being completely honest, Lydia had finally admitted her love Stiles and Stiles just told her what she'd already known; that he loved her and he had for a long time. They were dating and everything was absolutely wonderful. He would greet her with a kiss on the cheek and say 'I love you' as a farewell. Now, all she could see was his shredded and bloody chest, and the vacant look in his whiskey eyes.

Malia was trying to keep it together, but without her anchor, she was a mess. In fact, at the moment she had to wear sunglasses and keep her hands in her coat pockets to hide the blazing, blue eyes and claws that wouldn't go away. Although, she knew she had to get used to it. With Stiles gone this would most likely turn into a daily occurrence. He was her anchor and without him, she would float adrift, lost at sea.

After the funeral, people gathered at the Stilinski household for a reception to try and remember Stiles in a positive way, not as the helpless and mangled body that his father and friends last saw him as.

Sheriff Stilinski was currently sitting on the couch, surrounded by people telling him how 'sorry for his loss' they were or how 'tragic and untimely' his son's death was.

He knew that it was tragic and untimely, and that those people pitied him. They pitied him, the poor man who had lost his wife and was left to raise a small boy by himself and now a poor man who had lost his only son and was left with nobody.

Meanwhile, Scott, Lydia, and Malia were up in Stiles' room, as they didn't want to be surrounded by the sadness of the 'party' downstairs.

Lydia sat on his bed where they shared many a night lounging on it and watching movies on his laptop. Of course he would watch 'The Notebook' whenever she wanted and in return she would watch 'Stars Wars'.

Malia was seated at his desk where he spent most of his free time researching the monsters that threatened their pack on what felt as if it was a daily basis.

Scott was pacing back and forth, scanning the posters and pictures plastered to his best friend's wall. There were 'Stars Wars'—which Scott still hadn't watched— posters and multiple pictures of him and Stiles as children. The pictures of them evolved from only him and Stiles, ever the loners, to pictures of the pack, and finally up to a picture of him and Lydia. Lydia was smiling into the camera as Stiles kissed her cheek in a dramatic matter.

"We need to fix this," Scott spoke in a wavering voice as he stopped pacing and turned to the girls.

Lydia had been clutching to a sweatshirt that still smelled of Stiles, a mixture of his aftershave and oil from Roscoe. Malia had been picking at her fingernails and trying to distract herself from the fact that she was in her dead anchor's room.

"How are supposed to fix this, Scott?" Lydia sighed brokenly. "As much as I hate to say this aloud, St-Stiles is... he's, he's just not coming back."

"He should've let me give him the bite," Scott said as his inner alpha began to come out. He turned to a recent picture of him and the boy in question and hit the wall beside it. "Why the hell didn't you let me help you?! Damnit Stiles, I need you to come back, please come back."

"He would've been miserable."

The trio looked up to see Sheriff Stilinski standing in the doorway, his eyes red and puffy.

"What?" Asked Malia in confusion.

"He saw what becoming a werewolf did to you Scott," the sheriff sighed.

He walked into the room and then continued to explain.

"It may have brought a lot of great things, but it also put so much extra stress on your shoulders," Sheriff Stilinski put a comforting hand on Lydia's shoulder. "You're not the same kid you were before all of this. You may not have noticed, but he did. You don't have that 'innocent asthmatic puppy-dog' air surrounding you anymore. He wouldn't have wanted to lose himself."

"I-I can help, Sheriff," Scott stuttered as he stepped closer to the sheriff. "I can bring Stiles back. I've been talking to Deaton a-and he said that there's some sort of ritual that can send people back in time."

Lydia sat up straighter against the head board of Stiles' bed. "What are you saying, Scott?"

"I'm saying that we can go back to a week ago and stop Stiles from ever going into the woods and anywhere near that omega."

"Scott you know I love you like a son and all," Sheriff Stilinski said as he approached the werewolf, "but if you're just sitting there and feeding me false hope, I don't think I could ever truly forgive you. This is Stiles we're talking about, the only family I've got left... Or had."

"It's not false hope, Sheriff," Scott followed the sheriff's lead and stepped forward. "I really and truly believe that we can save Stiles."

The sheriff smiled for the first time since his son's death. "Then what do we need to do?"