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She had promised Allison she wouldn't, but she hadn't been keeping many promises lately, not with everything going on. Besides, she promised her in the heat of battle while hiding behind a water heater in the basement of an asylum - she couldn't be expected to keep it.
Allison had asked her "Promise me, Lydia, promise me if something happens that you won't bring me back. Please, Lydia."
She had been nearly sobbing in a way Lydia had only seen after Allison's mother had passed away. She was scared of what might happen to her, to Stiles, to Beacon Hills.
"I promise," Lydia had responded easily, kissing her and watching he run off to join Scott to take down the nogitsune.
She waited in the wings to strike, but she never had to. Stiles - the nogitsune, not Stiles, she reminded herself over and over again - killed Allison almost immediately. He threw a knife that hit her in the heart before she had even had a chance to fire an arrow. They weren't expecting it, no one was expecting it. Lydia screamed like the banshee she was. Stiles turned towards the noise with inhuman swiftness and Scott took his opportunity to stab him in the back with a silver sword. Scott had tears in his eyes as the body of his best friend fell to the ground, even though he knew his soul was long gone.
Lydia didn't remember much after that. She remembered crying, so much crying, and not much else.
So now, a few days removed from it all, she scattered her supplies across her bed. She had promised, but she hadn't predicted that all those clichés from romance movies were true; she felt empty and purposeless without Allison. She had promised, but it was too soon. She couldn't handle losing Allison. Lydia was smart, sure she knew that, but being smart didn't translate to being able to give up someone she loves so dearly; she was only sixteen, it was too soon.
There must be something, there had to be something she thought to herself as she sifted through her stash of witchy materials. She found one of the tomes she had purchased from Amazon (they had everything, if you knew how to really look) and flipped through it. A...H...K...N... Necromancy. Archaic Latin, of course, but she could do it. She would do anything for Allison.
It was too soon, Allison was gone too soon. And Lydia was shit at keeping promises.