The New Life
Taking care of two teenage boys and balancing a highly stressful career is difficult for a single parent. But add in the fact that both boys are supernatural creatures, and one is severely traumatized and has an extremely unfortunate dietary requirement... It's not easy. But Melissa McCall has never done things the easy way, she does things the right way. Fortunately, both boys could cook for themselves in a pinch, though she still worried about letting Scott anywhere near the stove.
She picked up the day's edition of The Beacon and looked over the article again. The performance the night before had earned a rave review, and Sean was in two separate pictures, one in which he was standing with the rest of the cast, the other featuring him posing alone. She knew he'd been worried about the paper focusing more on his personal tragedies than the musical, but it garnered only a brief and solemn mention. She looked at the solo picture, with Sean's wide, joyous grin, and thought of how much he'd changed.
The first time she'd seen him, he had stumbled into the emergency room, deathly pale, shirtless and barefoot, and promptly fainted from loss of blood. After that he'd mostly wept, he'd started to steal her heart then. But then his Hunger took control. She didn't understand, at the time, she'd only seen a bloody mouthed creature crouching over a dead deputy, gnawing at his entrails before attacking her. She'd been frightened and angry, but it had still broke her heart when she heard he'd been killed by the same butcher who slaughtered his family.
Then she'd come home to find him with Scott and Stiles, alive, terrified and so vulnerable that she couldn't hold on to any resentment against him.
The creature that had attacked her was not Sean Walcott, it was his Wendigo, unleashed by pain, fear and unimaginable hunger. Sean was one of the finest boys she knew, and she was proud to have him as her ward. She looked up from her musings to see Scott walk into the kitchen, his messy, floppy hair even more wild thanks to 'bedhead'.
Scott yawned, "Is that today's paper?"
She smiled, "Yes. I think Sean's going to be happy with the review."
"I am?" Sean walked in, running a hand through his messy, dark blond hair. She noticed for the first time that his hair seemed to be slowly growing darker, he'd likely be a brunette soon.
Melissa handed him the paper, smiling.
As Sean read it over, that smile graced his handsome features, "This is great! They loved it!" He ran forward and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, perhaps a bit too tight due to his considerable strength.
"That awesome dude!" Scott patted him on the back.
The young Wendigo turned and wrapped him in a crushing hug as well.
Melissa smiled and indicated the paper, "This is definitely going into our scrapbook."
After feeding Willow and sitting down for breakfast, Sean joined in on the discussion the McCall's were having. He was part of the family now, after all. While not officially adopted, (he'd be 18 in about a month and a half), Melissa referred to him as her son, and he sometimes called her 'mom'. It was hard, not because he didn't love and appreciate her, but because his own biological mother's murder was still fresh in his mind. It almost felt like a betrayal, but he knew his mother would want him to feel happy and loved. And he did. While Scott and Stiles were more like brothers than Scott and Sean, he understood that they'd grown up together. They had years of shared experiences, while Scott had only known him a few short months. They cared for each other, but not so strongly as brothers. If anyone, Liam was the little brother he'd never had, and they were almost inseparable. Derek was more like a grumpy but caring older brother. He was nothing like the mischievous and cheerful David, Derek was quiet, taciturn. Still, while he didn't talk much, his actions showed his love and concern for the entire Pack, and he'd helped guide Sean through some of his worst days. Peter, who most of The Pack seemed to distrust, even fear, had shown him nothing but kindness, in his own odd way.
Sure, there were arguments, even fights sometimes. Sean himself had punched Stiles, insulted Scott and threatened Kira, but such things were short-lived and typical of most families. After the tempers died down and apologies made, forgiveness was usually quick. In fact, it seemed like Scott was incapable of a grudge against anyone. He'd finally forgiven his father and accepted him, though Melissa still had issues with Agent Rafael McCall. Sean, having never personally been wronged by the man, respected him. He was intelligent, insightful and kept their secrets. He wasn't the man who'd hurt Scott so long ago, he'd pulled himself out of that pit and was trying to make things right the best he could.
That's all anyone can do, after all.
"Thank you. You didn't have to come with me..." Sean said as the Camaro pulled into the Beacon Hills cemetery, "It's not exactly a pleasant place."
"I don't know... I've always found it a bit peaceful." Derek replied.
"And I haven't been here for a while." Isaac added, "Dad can rot, but I want to pay my respects to Camden."
And Allison, he didn't add. He didn't need to.
Sean wondered how many of them were buried here, Pack, family, lovers. Allison. Boyd. Erica. Aiden... Probably the entire Hale family. So much loss, so much grief and pain.
And so much of it was needless. So many lives ended before their time. Before they even began.
Sean sighed and opened the trunk and they began pulling out wreaths. Derek shut the trunk as Sean's arms were full and leaned back against the vehicle, watching the boys as they walked into different areas of the cemetery.
Sean stood for a moment, contemplating the four headstones bearing the name Walcott. The headstones had been donated by employees of Walcott and Sons Funeral Home before he'd come out of hiding, thus he could come and stand before his own grave. He'd decided to keep it, as he highly doubted he'd live forever, though the date of death was removed. Beside what was to be his grave stood a tall statue of a crying angel.
He gave a slight smirk, knowing that if he were alive David would be behind him, warning in a spooky voice 'Don't blink, Sean!' The statue was an anonymous gift from someone who had been touched by his story. It was amazing how the world could produce people who could murder and abuse their own families, and people who could send out their hearts to complete strangers who were suffering.
After a short prayer, he gently placed a wreath of roses on his mother's grave, yellow, her favorite kind.
Christina O'Neill Walcott
Beloved Wife and Mother
He swallowed hard and turned to his father's grave.
Beloved Husband and Father
His father hadn't been much for flowers, and it drove him crazy that the wallpaper in their house was a floral pattern. But he was still a proud Scotsman, and the Scottish National Flower, the purple thistle, symbolic of the toughness and strength of his land and people, would undoubtedly have pleased him.
Beloved Son and Brother
David was a hard one. If left up to him, he'd probably have picked mushrooms or one of those stinking corpse plants. He was a 'the uglier the better' type guy when it came to things like plants and animals.
Sean had went with purple thistle, in part because of his heritage and in part because David had no interest in flowers.
As he wiped a tear from his eye, Sean noticed a scent being carried in the wind. It was one he knew well, a combination of grief, pain and rage.
He turned in the British Werewolf's direction to see that Derek was already by his side, soothing him. For someone who seemed so aloof, Derek was there when his friends needed him, an emotional support despite his own pain. Sean couldn't blame Isaac for his rage towards his cruel, sadistic father.
Once again he thanked God that he had come from a loving family who'd never harmed him.
He stood and walked over to the two Werewolves, ready to supply what comfort he could. They all had to stick together to survive, but, beyond that, they were family.
They were lost and damaged, bereaved but not broken. Love would be the bond to hold The Pack together.
He knelt beside Isaac and put a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder.
After a short time Isaac stood and walked wearily towards another grave, where he knelt in silence.
Sean had never met Allison Argent. He'd seen pictures of her, met her father, heard stories about her. But she died before he had even heard of the McCall Pack. From what he understood, and what he could see on Isaac's face, the two had been extremely close. She'd died in his arms during the battle against the Nogitsune, an enemy he was intensely grateful never to have encountered.
Sean and Derek stepped back to let Isaac have his privacy, and Derek wandered to a nearby grave. It was marble, with fine craftsmanship, obviously whoever it had been had been both wealthy and beloved. Derek's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he stood over the grave, projecting such wrath that Sean had to take a step back.
Gerard Argent had spared no expense honoring the mass-murdering bitch who'd destroyed countless lives. He was proud of her. Proud that she'd seduced and raped a fifteen year old boy, burned his entire family to death and tortured him for kicks.
Gerard's pride and joy.
He wasn't surprised when Derek shifted himself to block Isaac's view, unzipped his pants and left a liquid expression of his contempt on her headstone and grave.
Isaac would have heard, or smelled such an act easily, especially being only a few feet away, but he was lost in his own memories. If he noticed anything, he obviously didn't care.
Sean was surprised to find that he didn't care, either.
In that night's puppy pile Sean once again found himself entangled with Liam Dunbar. Liam had recently turned sixteen and had a steady relationship with Hayden. Sean was happy for him, he'd suffered so much since that terrible night on the hospital roof, when both their lives had changed forever. He deserved comfort and affection. Liam snuggled closer against Sean's muscular chest, and not for the first time Sean worried what Hayden, or anyone not familiar with 'puppy piles' would make of a nearly eighteen year old boy sleeping with a sixteen year old in his arms. But they were Pack, brothers.
Isaac, whom he still didn't know as well as he would like, was curled around Sean, sandwiching him between the two. Isaac was family too, he'd suffered more than his share of tragedy, pain and loss. Like Sean, his entire family was dead, his parents and older brother. The latter two had died by violence, Camden in service to the U.S. military and their abusive, sadistic father at the order of Matt Daehler.
Everyone in the Pack had a story everyone had their own share of guilt, grief and loss. Apart, they would have been lost souls drifting through life, together they were strong, brave, even heroic. If one Pack member hurt, they all hurt, and they all came together to help sooth that hurt. Together, there was nothing they could not overcome.
As sleep overtook him there was one thought on Sean Walcott's mind.
Life is good.
We need more authors writing Sean Walcott stories! Hopefully I can write a few one-shots every so often based on my Sean is Pack AU.
The statue is of an Angel weeping, but it doesn't look like and is not a Weeping Angel from Doctor Who.
David Walcott was an odd person. Good, but odd.
The Corpse or Carrion Flower (Rafflesia) is a large plant that creates a massive, fleshy red flower that smells distinctly like rotting meat. The scent is used to draw in flies and other carrion insects that pollinate the plants.
I'm sorry this has taken so long, but real life has taken a toll on me. I'll get through it, I always do, but I apologize to all of you who have had to wait so long for updates.
Thank you for your support and patience.