His fingers trembled as he struggled to button his shirt.

Numb. A self-induced, coping numb, enveloped him. The kind one inflicts because one had to. It's a self-preservation kind of numb. To hold the feelings at bay.

He couldn't afford to feel right now. If he did, it would be mere seconds before the pain and despair would cripple him and he would wallow in his suffering in the corner of hell that had become his life. A hell he created for himself. A hell he deserved for all the pain he had caused.

Stop! His mind screamed. For an instant his fingers stilled. He clenched his eyes to push back the thoughts and emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Numb. He kept reciting, slowly building up the wall, brick by brick, around his feelings.

When he was just about done with his wall, the gentle, soothing timber of his father's voice pulled him back out to the living world. "Hey," the man spoke while his callused hand wiped away the tears he hadn't known he shed, "Are you up for this? Because if you're not…"

"I have to go, dad." He said in a shaky voice. The trembling returned. In fact, his whole body was vibrating from the intensity of the situation. "I have to."

For a moment the two stood there, brown eyes locked with blue, searching and calculating. In the end, the older man simply nodded in understanding. He knew his son had to go too, but this was his son, and he did not want to see the boy suffer any more than he already has.

Unfortunately, there was no way to shield his child from the torment to come. Not like he had been able to do with some of the other tragedies over the last week.

Resigned to the inevitable, he whispered, "Okay, Stiles, we'll go." Then he proceeded to finish buttoning up his son's shirt.

Between the two of them, they finished quickly and headed out.

- tw –

A heaviness filled the air outside the building. It had nothing to do with the weather, for it was bright and warm. No, the heaviness was due to the occasion. It was somber, tragic; full of pain and loss. And it weighed heavily on him, when he stepped out of the vehicle. Like gravity had suddenly become five times stronger and each step took effort.

The journey from the car to the door felt like forever. And it was only the supportive, strong presence of his father that kept him moving.

They were early. A private viewing before the public, for those that knew the truth. And Stiles knew the truth more than any of them. Father and son stepped into the foyer to familiar faces. Faces that appeared to be stunned at their arrival.

Immediately, Scott came up to them. "Stiles, what are you doing here?"

"I had to, Scott."

"But," he hesitated, "Are you sure you're up for this?" Scott's concern obvious. After all, Stiles didn't faint after they defeated the Nogitsune for nothing. It had been apparent to the pack that whatever ordeal the dark spirit had put him through had taken a significant toll on his body, which hadn't dissipated over time, like they hoped.

Shaking, his head, the words rushed out of Stiles. "Doesn't matter. I had to be here. I… After sh- …" Ducking his head and clenching his eyes shut, he struggled with his thoughts and his voice, desperate to find a way to get them to work in conjunction so he could speak. He finally managed a weak, "She was my friend too. I owe it to her to be here."

Scott nodded in understanding then pulled his best friend into a tight hug.

The Sherriff and Melissa McCall watched their boys with broken hearts. They moved away from the teens to a corner. "Are you sure he should be here?" Melissa began.

"No. But he insisted and I wasn't going to stop him. If he didn't at least try, he would regret it for the rest of his life."

"But he…"

"Did you bring it?" Sherriff abruptly asked. He had to know.

She nodded. "Are you sure we'll need it?" The parents stole another glance of their children. Scott and Stiles still clung to each other in mutual grief.

Sighing, Stilinski confirmed, "I know my son. This is not going to end well."

Some long minutes later, Scott pulled away. Stiles glanced up at his best friend with red-rimmed eyes and tried to smile. "Thanks." Quickly, his eyes scanned the room, absorbing everything.

The pack was there, or he should say, what was left of the pack was there. Just inside the entrance, brooding in a corner, by himself, as should be expected, was Derek. Off to his right stood Lydia and Ethan, their proximity another testament to their own shared grief over Aiden. Stiles fervently ignored the thoughts that threatened. A brief intense flare of anger burst inside his chest. There would be no funeral for the missing twin. That death would go unaccounted for. He couldn't decipher the mix of feelings he had at that injustice so he pushed them away until he could focus more time to it.

To his left, by the open doorway to the viewing room, Argent stood tall with arms crossed, his shadow Isaac just behind him. Stiles avoided looking at the man. There was too much loss, too much pain., in such a short period of time. The realization that his sister murdered an entire family, including innocent children only to be killed by Peter. His wife bitten and subsequently sentenced to death before she could turn and kill anyone else. And finally, the reason they were gathered today, a daughter who had been taken too soon by a crazed carjacker – or so the story went.

But Stiles knew the truth. Knew what his weakness had cost Allison, her dad, Scott, Isaac, everyone. What it is still costing them. He couldn't look at Argent. He just couldn't face what he might find there. So he averted his eyes and stared into the open doorway.

He knew what waited silently in the room for him. This wasn't the first time he had ever done this and with the way their lives were going doubted it would be the last. That didn't make it any easier though. Probably made it that much worse. Their lives were dangerous now, and the likelihood of all their friends making it out of High School alive seemed impossible now.

Glancing over to his dad and Melissa, his heart skipped a beat. Just the thought of losing either of them turned his blood to ice. Ramming down the fear that spiked though him, Stiles looked back to the viewing room and took a tentative step forward.

The grip Scott had on his arm tightened. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I have to do this alone."

The hand released its hold and gently patted his back. Stiles focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Cautiously, he made his way into the viewing room and noted the open casket at the far end. His vision swam but he refused to give in. Steadying himself, he continued his journey. With each step he felt as if he passed another barrier, each one thicker than the last. The invisible walls sought to hold him back, but he stubbornly refused to walk away. He came here to honour her and he would do it no matter what. The pressure made it hard to breathe.

When he finally drew up beside the polished coffin adorned with fragrant flowers, he was gasping for air as if he had run a marathon. Somewhere deep inside, he found the courage to look down. A sob escaped him. She was beautiful. The true love of his best friend looked as if she were sleeping. How could she look so peaceful? He marveled. A sleeping angel that would never awaken again. And it was his fault.

His knees buckled and he crashed onto the altar, gripping the railing for dear life. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm Sorry, I'm sorry… I'm sorry." He kept repeating through the wracking sobs. The reality of the truth hitting him full force.

He had been unconscious when it happened. And when he was finally coherent enough to understand what they were saying, he had the luxury of focusing on defeating the Nogitsune to consume his thoughts. But he hadn't seen the truth until now. "'m sorry, 'smy fault. All my fault. Allison. Allison! Why you? Not you. Shouldn't have been you. Should have been me! It should have been me! ALLISON!"

And then there were arms around him, pulling him away.

"NO!"

Voices engulfed him. So many voices trying to sooth away the pain. Trying to console him when he didn't deserve it. Frantic now, his eyes sought the Hunter. He reached out for the man as soon as he saw him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt her. It's all my fault. It should have been me!"

There was a quick pinch in his neck and quickly the world faded away. His litany of sorry faded with him. Even after he had stilled, no one moved. Their hearts breaking all over again. Not just for the one they lost but because of the ones left behind. Tears and sniffles filled the quiet while they collected their thoughts and reigned in their emotions.

After an eternity, Isaac broke the silence. "Will he be alright?"

Sherriff Stilinski looked to the youth with sad, worried eyes and breathed out, "I don't know."

Next to him, Melissa touched his arm and whispered, "You were right. I'm sorry." When the man called her and asked her to bring a heavy sedative, she couldn't fathom needing it. But the man knew his son. Knew the depth of emotions that ran through Stiles. And he had been right.

He covered her hand with his and smiled sadly. "S'ok. Thank you. I should take him home."

"I'll help you." Both Scott and Isaac offered. But the Sherriff shook his head.

"No, I can handle it. And he wouldn't forgive himself if he made you miss this. You all need to be here, because he couldn't be. Not like he wanted to be anyway." Carefully, he stood up and moved to collect his son.

"We can help you to the car at least," Derek spoke up for the first time. And that the Sherriff could accept. Together, the pack saw the Stilinski's off then headed back into the funeral home. The official viewing would begin soon.

The already heavy atmosphere made that much worse by Stiles' guilt and pain. Isaac was still searching for an answer. "Will he be alright?"

"Will any of us?" Scott countered.

They all knew the answer though no one spoke it aloud. No.

Life in Beacon Hills had been changed forever. The aftermath of struggle often brought victory but always at a cost. Stiles' breakdown just proved that the cost was still being paid. They could only hope that the debt they owed was not too steep.

For now, they would have to endure. Find a way to reconcile. Find a way to move past the pain and live.

- TW – TW – TW –

I hope you liked it. Personally I enjoy delving into the emotions of characters. And I often think about how they would respond and deal with certain situations, especially those conveniently skipped over in shows. And as I said in my other fic, I just can't believe that the town of Beacon Hills will simply dismiss all the carnage that followed after the Nogitsune. I also can't imagine Stiles letting go of it all so easily either, let alone the rest of the pack.

Therefore, this will be an alternate of Season 4. Our world always seeks to find a reason behind events, those responsible and I doubt Beacon Hills would be any different. My muse has ideas for future chapters so I hope to post again soon. Just not promising anything, or offering a timeframe that may not be met. I'm still waiting for inspiration for my divine move, so to speak.

Now if this touched your heart in any way, I would greatly appreciate your comments and feedback. I really want to know if I got the emotions right. So, please, please, please let me know. I miss reading reviews, my muse feels lonely.

In any case, thank you for reading, reviewing, faveing and alerting.

Your humble writer,

~Ari :)