A/n:
Teen Wolf A!U
Bestfriend A!U
Death A!U
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It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Camila's eyes must be betraying her because that person laying there, laying there lifeless and limp on the floor, could not be her best friend. It just couldn't. Y/n was always there, always being the voice of reason, always there with her witty and sarcastic remarks, always there to pull Camila back from the edge, always there with her quick thinking to save the day. So, it just couldn't be Y/n there, dead and unmoving, it just couldn't.
But, at the same time, it was.
The person laying there looked like Y/n so, effectively, she must be Y/n right?
Her floppy hair was sticking up in every which way, her normal pale skin looking translucent and eerily unhealthily, those limbs that never stopped moving, were still. The whole image just looked... unnatural. Camila's feet moved forward on their own accord, her breathing beginning to hitch. Y/n could not be gone, she just couldn't, it was an unspoken rule between the two of them.
This whole time, through out the whole werewolf transition, she thought Lauren was her anchor. And she was but Y/n... Y/n was the one that kept her grounded, Y/n was her ground layer - you take away that and what? The whole thing collapses and Camila felt herself slowly breaking apart.
Why Y/n?
Y/n was the innocent one. The carefree one. The one that didn't deserve any of this. She was the goofy one. The fun one. The strong one. She was Camila's sister in everything but blood, in everything that was important, and Camila knew, when she looked down onto her best friend's body, she was gone. Y/n may be a prankster, a very good one at that, but she wouldn't put people through this pain. She wouldn't.
Camila fell to her knees, hands shaking as she tried to get some much needed air into her lungs. Was that blood? The thick congealment of red pooled around Y/n's torso, slowly inching its way forward towards Camila, as if it was mocking her. She let out a choked sob, feeling the familiar burning behind her eyes as the tears threatened to burst through.
Why Y/n?
Her best friend, her sister, her mentor, was... gone? She had taken Y/n for granted. She had always just assumed she would be there, through thick and thin, forgetting that Y/n was human - so fragile, so easily breakable. As proven right now. Camila felt her heart rate increase as hot tears spilt down her cheeks like torrents, the salty liquid making her eyesight go blurry.
Y/n's limbs were splayed around her like a rag doll, her lanky figure bent at awkward angles that even a sleeping and unconscious Y/n could definitely not pull off. The famous plaid shirt was ripped and ragged, torn in places and burnt in others, showing the pale and bruised skin underneath. No, this couldn't be real. This couldn't be Y/n. She was unrecognisable.
Why Y/n?
Camila's back hunched over as she reached forward, grasping her best friend's cold, frail and unusually bony hand. She needed Y/n back, she needed Y/n back right now, no more games. Matthew came back from the dead, why couldn't Y/n? She deserves it more that Matthew. Y/n deserves to have a life. She definitely did not deserve to fall by the hands of a nogitsune.
Camila let out an anguished howl of pain and grief, of loss and sadness, of suffering and distress, because Y/n... Y/n was gone. Forever. Her eyes faded from red to brown again as she collapsed forward, one hand shaking Y/n's shoulder desperately, pleading for her to wake up, to stop with the games and be 'Y/n' again. It didn't work. Her best friend's head lolled back and forth, caramel brown eyes once so full of life and happiness now... dull and wide with pain and terror.
And that was what hit Camila the most. The eyes. The eyes were the window to the soul. They gave away everything, the eyes. And Camila could see, not relief or peace in her best friend's eyes. No. She saw fear so raw it made Camila's heart lurch, she saw pain so real it made Camila cry harder, she saw guilt so clearly it made her chest ache.
Why Y/n?
Her mouth was slack and Camila would've laughed if she could. Y/n mouth was always slack - her best friend could never keep it shut from talking so damn much, half the time wanting to hit her over the head and tell her to remember to breathe, only now, Camila would give anything to hear that voice again.
Her best friend's voice that always brought her back.
"W-Why?" Camila choked out, not knowing where to put her hands. Y/n's body was broken beyond repair, blood oozing out from multiple sword slashes, bones bent at wrong angles, black and blue bruises littering her skin. Y/n had literally torn the nogitsune from his body with every last effort she had, mustering up all her strength and stubbornness for one last time.
"Don't be dead Y/n." Camila cried out, "Please, please, don't be dead." She added, voice cracking in anguish, "Y-You promised, you promised it would be you and me against the world."
Camila had never felt this type of pain before. Not when her dad left. Not when Lauren broke up with her. Not when she was shot. Not when she got stabbed. This pain was fresh and raw and it felt like her chest was being torn open and her heart was being clawed from her chest. She should've done more. She should've been there for her best friend like Y/n was always there for them. She should've traded places.
Camila's head snapped up when she heard a grief-stricken scream and saw Sheriff Stilinski race forward, his usual caring and kind eyes, now wide open, disbelief written all over his face. His face, which had seen too much sadness, was now fallen and shock-ridden.
"No, no, no, no, no, no - Y/n, Y/n, c'mon bud wake up." The sheriff pleaded, pulling Y/n's lifeless body into his arms, "You're gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine, I've got you, everything's gonna be okay." He murmured against Y/n's hair, caressing her neck, "Dad's here."
Camila's heart broke all over again. No parent should outlive their child - it was unnatural and wrong, something that should never happen.
"Y/n." The sheriff demanded, "Game is over, wake up." He stated, a single tear sliding down his weathered face, "Please... please don't leave me."
Camila leaned back, her crossed legs giving way underneath her as she crashed to the ground, staring down at the blood on her hands. Was that Y/n's blood? It covered every inch of her palms, like a reminder that it was Camila's fault for not helping Y/n sooner, resembling a brand that she would forever have Y/n's blood on her hands. That it was all her fault.
Y/n was gone, and in her place was just a lifeless corpse, an empty shell, a something that was so far away from being hyper-active and ADHD Y/n, it made Camila's head fall because, no matter what, her best friend was never coming back, because, she, Camila, had let her down.
