Chris had gone in his and Allison's apartment for the first time since she died. He had thought he was ready, but clearly he wasn't. It had been so overwhelming. Everything there reminded him of Allison. The stain in the couch of when she had spilled her orange juice. The painting of him she had made when she was five years old, proudly hanging at the wall. The fruity loops box standing on the kitchen counter, since Allison always forgot to put it back. Her baby blue night slippers, still standing next to the couch, as if they were waiting for Allison to return.

That was something he and the slippers had in common then. He was also waiting for his baby girl to come back home. To give him one of her smiles and hug him tight. Chris noticed tears were stinging in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, it had been three weeks, he needs to be able to at least think about her without starting to cry. He needs to learn to live without her after all. Can't go crying at every little thing that reminds him of Ally.

Trying to stay strong, Chris walked into Allison's room, her smell invading his nose. Before he lost Victoria, he had not known what people meant with the smell of others. He had never noticed it. But when he lost his wife, he definitely noticed it. It had still lingered on her side of the bed, in her favourite dress, in the sheets. Desperate to hold onto that scent, Chris had slept on her pillow for weeks. But eventually it had faded away. Allison's scent however was still very present it the room, Chris had to take a step back. It was a lot to take in. He took a deep breath and walked towards her nightstand. Her favourite crossbow was still on it, as it always had been. With a small smile, Chris traced his fingers over the string. It brought back happy memories of the day he gave it to her and of when he had trained her. But the moment turned bitter as soon as he reminded himself that he could never get to relive those memories. That his daughter was gone. Just as his wife. Just as his sister.

He could feel the tears rolling over his cheeks, but he didn't care. For once he didn't care. His father had always taught him to be a man, to be a fighter, to be a winner. Crying? That was not something winners did. But at that moment Chris realized he was not a winner, not with how much he's lost in his life. He let the tears fall and ended up crying on Allison's pillow.

Stiles sat on the couch, watching a comedy on Netflix. He was already half way through and hadn't laughed once. How could he? With everything that's happened, laughing is the last thing he wants to do. How could he laugh, especially at something as a comedy, ever again? Allison died.

Allison had died. And it had been his fault. He had killed Allison.

He had let the nogitsune win. It's his fault, all of this, is his fault. He should have been stronger, should have been smarter. He should have stopped him. But no matter how hard he fought, no matter how hard he seemed to scream, no matter how clever his move was, the nogitsune was always better. Always ahead of him. Still, Stiles knows he should have given more somehow, should have been stronger, should have been better. But he hadn't been and now Allison is dead.

He killed Allison.

And he misses her, a lot. He misses the way she smiled, the way she seemed to always be in a good mood, not showing it if she wasn't. The way she was just always there, for everyone. She'd been there for him too, he remembers how she encouraged him to never give up. Not with lacrosse, not with Lydia. How she'd laughed at his stupid jokes. How she'd been there for him. How she'd cared.

And he had killed her.

Lydia had gone to school today. For the first time since Ally. 'Try to get back to your old life pumpkin' her father had said. As if she ever could. Her dad doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how hard it to lose the person who has always been right at your side. To lose the person who you shared everything with. To lose your best friend. School was only going to remind her of that.

Lydia proved herself right on the way over. Allison always drove them to school. She remembers all the laughs they had in here, all the gossip that was shared, all the singing along to the pussycat dolls. Being driven by her dad wasn't the same, at all. Lydia had to blink a tear out of her eye. And they hadn't even arrived at school yet. This was going to be a tough day.

An hour later Lydia was getting really upset with being stared at. Everyone seemed to be looking at her, their eyes either revealing pity or respect. She didn't need either of those. Pity wasn't going to get her her best friend back and the fact that people respected her made Lydia sick. She had done nothing to earn that respect, hell, if she wouldn't have been stupid enough to get kidnapped, Allison would probably still be alive. So fuck off with your respect.

Lydia froze as she saw Allison's locker. It was covered with roses, notes and pictures. Students had been turning it into some sort of memorial. Lydia took a couple of steps forward, wanting to see it all. Her eyes scanned across the notes and little gifts. They stopped when she saw a picture of Allison and her. It had been taken during prom, but Lydia hadn't known about its existence. Lydia had playfully thrown her arm around Allison, holding her close. Allison was laughing, like only Allison could. Her head thrown slightly back, the biggest smile ever on her face, shining through in her eyes. If she focused Lydia could hear Allison's warm laugh playing in her mind. Seeing the picture had made tears roll across her cheeks. Lydia moved forward and carefully pulled the picture off the locker. With it in her hands, holding onto it closely, she turned around to leave.

At home she walked straight to her room, ignoring the concerned questions coming from her dad. She was not in the mood for questions. Once inside, she locked the door behind her and sat down on her bed. She pulled out the picture and studied it some more, taking in every detail while tears started falling. Her hands reached for the only thing that was able to comfort her these days. The sweater that she had being wearing the last couple of weeks. Allison's sweater.

"Are you okay?" the stranger asked.

Isaac had just lost one of the last people he cared about. Of course he was not okay.

"Fine." Was what he grumbled out while he moved past the man.

He could feel the man staring at him as he walked away, but Isaac didn't care. He didn't care about anything these days. Allison was all he had really cared about. But she was gone.

The worst thing is, she had died saving him. She'd seen how he wasn't strong enough to beat the Oni, how he was not going to survive and she saved him. Which ended in her own death. He didn't deserve that, he didn't deserve to be saved. He wasn't worth dying for. He wished he had been the one to die. Allison deserved to live so much more.

He keeps playing her death over and over in his mind. The way she fell down, the way she gasped for air, the way she was so strong, even in death. They way she died in Scott's arms. Scott's arms. Not his. It had always been Scott. Never him.

But no matter how much that stinged, it didn't even compare to the pain of losing Allison. She was gone, really gone. He would never get to hold her, never get to kiss her, never get to head butt her ever again.

Isaac doesn't know what he's supposed to do with his life now. Allison was the only good thing in it. She was his world. His now empty world.

She was his first love. His first heartbreak. His anchor. His password. His everything.

He loved her so much. He'd known the first moment he saw her, or well, heard her. That girl would own his heart and hopefully she'd let him own hers.

'In the arms of my first love, the first person I ever loved, the person I'll always love.'

Apparently she had, till the very end. The thought alone made tears fall down Scott's cheeks. He had thought she'd moved on, with Isaac. Without him. But she hadn't , she'd still loved him. Just like he had still loved her.

He only noticed now, now she's gone, how much he really loved her. He believes she might have been more than just his first love. Because without her, he feels so empty, so alone. He just feels..incomplete. Like a part of him has died. Which he guesses, it did. It died with Allison.

Kira had come over yesterday. He hadn't really spoken to her since Allison died, apart from texts. He couldn't see her, he knew he couldn't . He didn't know what to do. He cared about Kira, but with Allison dying, everything changed. He couldn't go back to the way it was. He ended up crying on her shoulder. They didn't talk, he just cried.

The memories are just too much sometimes. He can remember the way she smiled, like she smiled only for him, he can remember the way she was always searching for his eyes, just like he was searching for hers. He can remember the way they danced on prom and how they spent an entire day in the woods. He can remember the sneaking around. The laughing. The constant flirting. The kissing. The passion. The love. The heartbreak. The tears. The moving on. The blood. The crying. The I always loved you. The final breath.

She was his first love. His first heartbreak. His anchor. His password. His everything.

And she always will be.