The world stopped spinning just long enough for Stiles to watch Scott and Allison claw their way out of their graves. The sight should have been horrifying in it's own right, but it elicited no response from Stiles other than a faint sense of relief, especially when Allison was up right, and anything but dead. He swallowed thickly, just barely cringing at the earthy taste in his mouth as he stared blankly at his friends. He casted one brief glance at the woman who pulled him from his grave and coaxed him into breathing normally again. Willow needed no introduction.. he knew who she was, and he didn't question why she was out there in the middle of the woods, digging them out of the ground.
Stiles couldn't put what had happened into words, but he had felt a change. It wasn't shock, because after his lungs were clear, his heart went back to beating calm and steady.
However, that weight was still there, and Stiles carried it silently through the woods.
He was so lost in his own head, that it never even occurred to him that he had left Roscoe out in the middle of the woods. The engine was even still on, but none of this seemed to matter to Stiles as he trudged through a fog that he couldn't see as much as feel.
It wasn't long until the group found themselves in front of the prison, and it was just the three of them once more, all staring at each other. Stiles slowly blinked, looking from Allison to Scott. He said nothing. He ran both of his hands up and through his hair as he turned away from them and slowly dragged his feet into the prison without a single word.