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Stiles knows the stages of grief. He knows because he looked them up multiple times over the years, the first time when he was eleven and watched his dad go through every single one of them, then back again and a few times later with no specific order.
He knows denial. That feeling when the brain refuses to acknowledge that something or someone is lost when it's still stuck in the past and unwilling to let go. It's the shortest one for him now, though it took a lot longer to move from denial that first time when his mom was gone. Then again, that was the first loss and he was still so young.
What's even more familiar is anger. Not for him, he never lingers on that one too long. But there are many people in his life who do or who have been at the receiving end of it. John, who lashed out at Stiles more than either of them cares to remember. Isaac's father, who was stuck in that stage for years, long enough that it left lasting scars—some invisible, others less so—on Isaac, who was the only one in the vicinity of those anger outbursts. Scott, who didn't like to think about vengeance but who still succumbed to anger after Allison, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Derek, who was angry at the entire world including himself, for a long time. Peter… Stiles doesn't like to think about Peter's version of anger a lot. It's for the best, really.
Depression is the one that Stiles doesn't like to deal with, whether it's his own or someone else's. It's when the reality sinks in, when he realizes that whatever or whoever is lost is definitely not coming back. It's the time when he always wonders if it's all worth it, if what they're in the middle of has a point besides suffering and gloom. The time when he keeps thinking about who or what is next, where the sword will fall again and how soon. It's the part of the process that makes him almost understand why people reach for a bottle or for pills, why they feel like they don't want to keep going anymore. It's the darkest one, the hardest one to pass.
Acceptance isn't easy. It has too many steps that separate it from depression, too many hoops that need to be jumped through, too many realities to face. He knows, logically, that it's the best place to be. That it's where he wants to end up—with a dash of hope and no more darkness—but it's a tough road to it.
The thing is, most of the times so far, he got stuck in the middle for the longest time.
Bargaining. Pleading with whoever or whatever is in charge, wondering about time travel and the butterfly effect, looking up magic that affects timelines and that has the power to bring people back. Dark magic. Dangerous magic. Because consequences of things like that are never ever good. He knows because he saw it. Not in his pack, not in Beacon Hills, but he saw enough to know that some things shouldn't be messed with.
But when he's lost someone and once he's worked through denial and anger, he can't help it. His mind won't let him pass through the next stage without going over every single possible trade that he's willing to do just to turn back time.
Including trading himself.
When the Ghost Riders created his mom after Stiles was taken, no one realized it until it was almost too late. And no one told Stiles after they brought him back. Not until it slipped out later that for a while, his dad wasn't alone. That it was Claudia who was around to replace Stiles. That for that little bit of time, John was John again.
Stiles would give anything to have her back. He knows that if it came to the choice between him and her, he'd stay at the train station, he'd leave like he was supposed to or stay in limbo. He would make sure that his dad was never alone again, that he wouldn't even remember losing her that first time. He'd make sure that there was no second time.
No matter who else they lose as time goes by—no one too close, not anymore, not once Gerard and Kate are gone—Stiles always goes back to that thought. The grief has a rhythm now—there's a "what?" and a "No!" and a punch of a wall or a broken door that he slams too hard. And then there's "maybe if I'd stayed away; if you hadn't brought me back".
He still bargains, but only in his mind. Because now he knows that he has a reason to stay here, a reason that's enough to remind him that the bargaining is pointless. Grief is hard, but he's not alone dealing with it anymore.