Stiles is racked with guilt after Allison's death. He can't look at any of his friends, especially Isaac, and not think about all of the people he'd killed, injured or left with broken families. He knew that wasn't purely him, but it hadn't purely b...
The rain came down in driving sheets as everyone stood shivering. The sky was as black of the clothes that everybody wore, the smart attire drenched and sticking to clammy skin. But Stiles didn't feel the cold, not externally anyway. The rain, the vicar's voice, all were dull. All he could see was the gravestone which read 'Allison Argent'. The coffin ready to be lowered into the grave, the dark, cold hole in the ground where his friend would lie forever more. Because of him.
He could feel the grief and sadness pressing in on all sides, battering against his body with the same ferocity as the rain. Some part of Stiles must have felt the effects of the weather though; he shook uncontrollably and his head felt like it was about to split in two. Maybe it was just the build up of so many negative emotions. Either way Stiles didn't care, all he wanted to do was curl up somewhere quiet, somewhere where no one would disturb him because more than anything, Stiles felt tired. He was tired of not sleeping, he was tired of the guilt and he was tired of the way his friends looked at him; either as if he was a brittle leaf about to be blown away by the wind, or with the blame that shone to some extent in every pair of eyes he saw.
When everyone began to filter away he didn't notice, one minute everyone was there and the next it was only the Pack, Melissa, Chris and his dad. The vicar had finished and people had gone after giving Chris their condolences. Finally, Stiles looked away from the place where Allison's body rested, now just a patch of freshly dug soil. He looked to the sky and the dark grey clouds that covered every inch. Fat drops of rain beat down onto his face and it was then that he felt the cold.
Chris was the next to leave, then Melissa and Scott, who gave him a brief hug, and then his dad.
"Stiles, you coming?" he'd asked.
"Just a minute," was Stiles' whispered reply," I'll just take Roscoe back in a bit."
The Sheriff leaned close to his son and whispered in the teen's ear, "Don't blame yourself." With that he squeezed Stiles' shoulder and walked off into the rain. Now Stiles was very aware of everything around him, the initial numbness had worn off and now the world had come back in clearer detail than ever before. His tears mixed with the rain on his face and a single quiet sob escaped his throat. He was a monster, he always would be as long as the Nogitsune hung around. The teen could see the dark spirit standing there beside the grave, the bandages concealed all but the mouth from which twisted, sharp teeth protruded.
Suddenly hands grabbed his shoulders, a harsh grip from an assailant standing behind him.
"Hey!" Stiles protested.
He managed to turn enough to see Isaac's contorted face. His hair was plastered to his forehead and water dripped off of the end of his nose. His brown eyes gleamed with vengeful hate and Stiles shrank away from him.
The werewolf beta's mouth was twisted in a determined grimace as he dragged Stiles into the trees around the edge of the graveyard. Once there, he flipped Stiles around to face him and shoved him roughly against a tree trunk. The bark dug into the human's back but he just pressed himself further into it as he clutched at Isaac's arms, trying to pull the wolf off of him in vain.
Stiles felt the sharp pain as Isaac's claws dug into his shoulders, he gritted his teeth, not allowing a single sound to escape his mouth. Fire burned bright in Isaac's eyes, a very vindictive fire that Stiles would rather not see there. Especially as that fire was directed at him.
The fire then came his way in the form of a fist. The knuckles connected with Stiles' face causing an explosion of pain. The Sheriff's son doubled over clutching his head but he didn't protest, he knew he deserved it. Isaac grabbed his shirt, balling the material in his clawed fists as he roughly pushed him back against the tree.
"Got anything to say?" Isaac snarled. Now his eyes were literally glowing yellow. Fangs had grown and they were gritted in a way that told Stiles if he wasn't careful they would soon sink into his flesh.
"I'm sorry," Stiles gasped, he couldn't meet the beta's eyes. Guilt consumed his entire being and he knew that the apologie wasn't good enough, nothing would be.
"Sorry!" Isaac snarled, his eyes glowed a fierce gold full of hate," Sorry doesn't bring her back! She's dead! Dead! It's all your fault Stiles! You should be the one six feet under right now!"
Again he thrust Stiles against the tree as the human gasped for breath. Panic rose inside of Stiles, a definite oncoming panic attack, he could feel it welling in his chest. A growl rumbled deep in Isaac's throat and Stiles knew that he was loosing control of his wolf, the moon was high n the sky and it was almost full.
"You killed her! You did Stiles! You and your- your Oni! Out of everyone anywhere the Nogitsune chose you! You Stiles!" Isaac yelled straight in Stiles' face. Stiles stared at Isaac's clenched fists, absorbing the words, the words that everyone was thinking but only Isaac was saying. Always being helpful.
"There must be something about you, something special and unique. You must have some- some quality that the Nogitsune wanted. The only thing with that Stiles, the only thing is that the Nogitsune is a dark spirit. That means that whatever quality set you apart is bad. You must have some of that rotten love for chaos and pain," Isaac spat before he seemed to lose control again," Did you enjoy it when she was killed? Did you!?"
He shook Stiles violently, his back thumped against the tree again and again until he was crying out in pain and the werewolf finally stopped.
"You should leave, your a danger to everyone around you. Beacon Hills doesn't need someone like you, in fact, someone like you is the last thing Beacon Hill needs," Isaac snarled before turning and walking briskly away.
A few meters to his right Stiles saw the Nogitsune standing, sneering that sneer that was more of a snarl. The dark spirit chuckled as a single tear rolled down the teenager's swollen face. Stiles bowed his head and leaned heavily against the tree trunk. Maybe Isaac was right, maybe he should leave. He shouldn't still be seeing the Nogitsune for Christ's sake. And he shouldn't be seeing and doing all of the things that he suddenly was able to.
Stiles knew the reason that the Nogitsune had possessed him and he himself wasn't sure if that reason was good or evil. Isaac was right, he was a danger, especially when his powers were only just emerging with the expulsion of the Void and he had no idea how to control them.
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