A/N.
Alright my lovely people. This will be a two-shot (I can't guarantee that it will stay that way).
It is build the way that Scott is now old and are telling the story of the past, of how he lost everything and at the same time gained something else.
Read and please don't hesitate to ask questions if this confuses you, it was written in the process of writing a chapter for Stay wide awake.
Behind armored heart lies a true survivor.
Chapter one.
Tell me why (I can't be where you are).
Show me the meaning of being lonely
Is this the feeling I need to walk with
Tell me why I can't be there where you are
There's something missing in my heart.
Backstreet Boys, Show me the meaning of being lonely.
He never wanted this to happen, never wanted to watch the people around him die all over again. Hadn't they suffered enough, hadn't they lost enough?
To think that everything that had happened to him and the people around him could have been avoided if Kate Argent had never burned the Hale house down, killing an entire family, and rendering Peter Hale so mad for revenge that he was willing to kill Laura Hale to gain it. If that had never happened Scott McCall would never have been bitten, therefore a lot of people would still have been alive.
He shook his head as old fingers softly traced the edges of a photograph. He had been happy once, he couldn't deny that, but sometimes it hit him that he was the only one left, the only one that had managed to survive in the hell that had been Beacon Hills.
He laid the picture in his lap again, not wanting to look at it any more than necessary.
They had all gotten a life; they had all managed to get away.
Derek had traveled with Braeden and Malia.
Stiles and Lydia had gone away for university.
The sheriff and his mother had finally moved in together.
Liam and Hayden had moved on, they were still in the pack, but didn't live with them.
And himself, well, that was another story entirely for itself. After learning what had happened to him, that he had died and come back, after Beacon Hills finally had calmed back down again and people had stopped dying, Isaac had finally returned to him, had finally come back.
They had both been overjoyed, and he could still smile when he remembered that Isaac or as he had re-named the younger wolf, French wolf, had yelled that he refused to let his Alpha run headless into danger anymore, that he wasn't alone anymore, that he had never really been alone to begin with.
He snarled at himself and knew his eyes were crimson. It always happened when he thought about the past. Because in Beacon Hills nothing were ever peaceful for long.
His strength came from his pack and he hadn't had a pack for so long. "What's the use of being an Alpha if I couldn't even keep my own pack alive?" he spoke hoarsely to himself.
Over sixty-seven years later the past still stung, remembering that he had tried everything in his power to save the ones he loved and held dear, all for nothing.
He laid the photograph on a small brown table to his left side and moved to stand, wincing a little at the sharp pain that moving again after so long caused but he took the pain willingly. Not because he deserved it (he thought he did), but because it reminded him that even if all the people around his was long dead, that not even he, had escaped without damage, that he too had suffered along his pack.
He slowly moved over to a wall littered with pictures of the past. He tried to take a deep breath and let it out but it still came out as a sob when he was again reminded of how he lost everything, of how the people around him began to die.
He let his eyes sweep over the pictures on the wall, all of them was carefully framed and kept dust free, making sure that the faces that was facing him, was always bright, almost like they weren't gone, like they really was in front of him, smiling and laughing like nothing bad had ever happened to them.
As he had gotten old, he had learned to not take things for granted. Shortly after the last remaining pack member had been killed, he had gone mad, he couldn't take the grief and pain any longer , and he was caught by the Calaveras after two years.
Araya was older than he had remembered but then again, he hadn't seen the woman in a very long time.
They had welcomed him among them and let him live on their ground on the only promise that he would help with easy hunts; hunts were the goal wasn't killing, but to negotiate and avoid trouble.
He lived and trained with them until the past came to bite him again.
It had been a rouge hunter that did it. He had had loaded a shotgun with bullets laced with blue monkshood and had begun to shoot under training. Scott had tried to get the younger and newer hunters in cover but he had been hit by serval bullets in doing so.
He had woken up after two weeks; the field medic hunter had told him that he was lucky if he ever got to walk again. He had been hit in the spine; a nerve had nearly been served. They had only just barely managed to save him, and only because he had been a werewolf. No lives other than the rouge, had been lost that day.
He still wished that they had left him to die.
It had taken time, almost a year went by, before he could stand again, another year went before he could walk without assistance, and yet he was still in pain every single second that he was standing on his legs, something he avoided more and more as the time went by.
A soft knock sounded on the door leading into living-room and he turned around to eye the door warily, always deciding if opening the door was worth the risk of ambush again.
"Papa, it's Zack, please open up."
He sighed but didn't move, he eyes had returned to the past on the wall.
"Papa!?" the voice of his son called out again, only slightly more panicked than before, he understood his sons fears, they weren't without reason.
He shook his head, still not calling out to let him enter or even acknowledging that he had even heard Zack's call for him.
Hands were suddenly touching his shoulders and he jumped in the air, turning around, maybe a little too fast for his age, but was quickly pinned against the wall, a firm arm on his chest, kept him from struggling too much.
He was slowly released from the hold and began to sink down on the floor, before strong arms gripped him tight and helped him back to his chair.
They should begin to call him Chairman.
He sank back in the soft fabric and sighed deeply when he felt a hand on his knee.
"Papa, there's nothing you can do to change the past, remember you always told me that when we lost Ma. Instead of mourning the people we have lost, we should celebrate that such people lived."
Scott smiled softly and nodded, more to himself than to his son.
He had against all hope found love after Isaac had been killed. She was a beautiful woman, strong and not afraid to love a werewolf. The woman of cause was not afraid of anything, nothing other than what would happen to her beloved husband when she would die. She had had a nine year old Zack promise that he would take care of his father when she would no longer be among them and he had.
Oh how he wished that he hadn't.
He took a deep breath and let out a pained whine, giving his son the puppy eyes, hoping that the young man would leave him alone again.
He had never been the lucky guy.
"Aunt wants to know if you'll eat with her at dinner."
He shook his head. He didn't want to see people, his son he could tolerate but only just barely. He felt the hand on his knee disappear and opened his eyes to see Zack sit down on the floor, leaning against the chair Scott was sitting in.
He lifted a shaking hand and softly petted his son's head, hoping that it provided some comfort to him.
"I don't think I ever told you about my pack," he began slowly, giving himself time to back out of a conversation that was long overdue. He could see on Zack's face that the younger wolf was thinking the same, but didn't want to push him too much; he wasn't twenty-five years old anymore.
"But it's much easier to tell how it all ended than to tell how it all began," he slowly continued, tears already beginning to well up in his eyes, and he gripped his son's hand so tight, he was afraid that he would break it.
"It's okay Papa, take your time."
The old Alpha laughed without humor and squeezed his son's hand in return before he began speaking.
"We lost Stiles first. He was human but he had survived for so long that we had forgotten how easy he could hurt, how fast he could die.
We had forgotten how fragile humanity could be.
It wasn't even the supernatural that killed him. No, it was cancer, brain cancer, he didn't stand a chance and he wouldn't have survived the bite. Even if he had wanted it.
He had been sick for a while when he finally told us what we had smelled from the start but I think we had all hoped that his scent was just playing us tricks but it wasn't.
Two weeks after he had told us, Stiles shot himself with one of the sheriff's guns that was in the house. We found a note." He swallowed thickly and tried to wipe the tears away from his cheeks. He was too old to cry over something that happened almost seventy years ago.
When his friend had died it had hit them all hard, but him the hardest. Stiles had called himself a coward for taking the easy way out, for quitting life instead of letting it quit him.
But he had forgiven him; he would always forgive Stiles, no matter what had happened in the past. He could forgive him for finally having had enough, but he couldn't forgive him for not taking him with him.
Zack hadn't moved and was still holding on to his hand, "It's okay Papa."
Scott smiled weakly and nodded against the wall of pictures, more to himself than to his son by his side.
"Lydia was the next one," he went on, his eyes going distant as he spoke of the banshee.
"She screamed herself to death. We didn't know why or who she screamed for but…I believe it had just gotten too much for her too. She got a beautiful funeral and people still remember her."
He chuckled a little, "But then again, who would dare to forget Lydia Martin."
His chest arched and the tears came rolling down his cheeks again when he remembered the next death, the one that had shattered him so much that he had went on revenge, The True Alpha that became an Alpha.
He remembered how he had held his lovers head in his lap, his own hands had been stained in Isaac's blood and he had tried to stop the blood flow, to take some pain until a cold and clammy hand had gripped his wrist, the younger wolf's eyes saying all the things that couldn't be said by words.
He remembered how much he had cried, how hoarse his throat had been from howling and screaming, how he had fought against Liam when the beta had pulled him away from where Isaac had laid on the sandy ground, his lovers heartbeat fading away as he screamed himself raw.
He was broken out of his thoughts when he felt a pat on his right knee, Zack looking up at him with the same hero worship in his eyes as if he was still eight year old and he had just gotten a piggy back ride on his father's back.
"Another day Papa, you are not ready to share that yet," he said and smiled and got up to leave the room. in that moment Scott had never loved his son more.
"But the story's not over," he whispered to himself and moved again to stand and walk over to the picture wall, letting his shaking fingers softly trace the edge of the last photograph of his old lover.
"Sweet twenty," he said out loud, not bothering to wipe his tears away.
He had gone missing after Isaac; he didn't want to be found, not until he had gotten revenge. He hadn't been a saint for long, long time by the time he had found the enemy pack again; he had given up on being the good guy.
He remembered that he one night in the dessert had thought that right then and there, there wasn't much difference between him and Peter when he had gone on a killing spree. The only thing was that Scott only killed people who had had a connection to the murder of Isaac.
He had found them when the first snow fell, the sky dark and no starts had been shining, no stars to light up the blood that painted the snow white ground red, the darkness that he had fought so hard to keep at bay had finally swallowed him whole.
He had taken the Alpha last, the man had watched from the sideline as his pack was slaughtered, their blood forming in puddles around their still bodies on the ground.
The man had snorted and shaken his head as he walked forward to greet the once True Alpha, Scott's eyes shining a bright blue, because not everyone in the pack had been murders.
His teeth pulled back in a vicious snarl when the pack Alpha stepped forward, his own eyes were blue, standing out against the blood that was coating his skin.
The other Alpha hushed him like he was a child, smiling as he looked at the bodies of his pack.
"I gotta say Pup, I didn't see this come. Isn't it something about that True Alpha's never kill?" he asked mocking.
"I can make an exception for you," he snarled in anger, "You killed him!"
The older Alpha crocked his head as he thought about an answer, but then he smiled and Scott knew that he would lose it.
"The blond one? He was foolish. He deserved to di…."
The Alpha's words ended when Scott jumped him, his claws digging deep into skin, adding more blood to the ground beneath them.
The fight had been long, he remembered. But it had ended with the older Alpha's dead body on the ground, mauled beyond recognition and blood had been dripping from his claws.
He remembered, or didn't, that he had called Derek, the older man had picked up immediately and had sounded way too worried Scott had thought.
"Scott," Derek asked into the phone.
He laughed humorless and answered, "Yeah, I'm going to need you to pick me up. I'm in Alaska….."
There was silence on the other end of the line as he knew Derek was trying to connect the dots.
"What did you do Scott?" he growled and Scott could almost imagine the beta's face, frowning and pacing where he was standing.
"Let's just say that I'm not a True Alpha anymore but I think I understand Peter now." He went quiet again, his chest arching as he spoke and remembered Isaac and he almost didn't hear Derek answer him.
"You got revenge?" was all the beta said and when Scott didn't reply, he heard the older man sigh, "I'm going to pick you up, wash the blood off and hide the bodies, pin it off on animal attack." He said and hang up, leaving Scott covered in blood and surrounded by dead people.
People he had killed.
He knew he should feel bad, he knew he should fell different, but he didn't. The only thing he was this sudden emptiness in his chest that didn't go away.
And that emptiness was still in his chest, arching and reminding him that all the people around him was dead and gone, and he was the one left standing.
He had gone back to the pack, Derek had promised that he wouldn't tell the rest of them what he had done but he knew that what had been left of the pack knew that something had changed, that he was different.
Liam had once commented on it, he had said that he smelled cold, like a wall had been built around his heart, his only and best reply had been.
"Behind armored hearts, lies a true survivor."
He knew that if Lydia and Stiles had still been alive, that they would have figured out what he had done, they had just been that smart.
Derek had never stopped looking weird at him, like he expected for the young Alpha to blow up at any moment, but like he had said to Liam, his heart were armored, he didn't feel.
He couldn't feel.
He winced as he remembered the next one that had been killed.
Braeden had been killed by a rouge werewolf, a clean kill, he thought when he saw her body, and Derek was holding her tight in his lap, trying to take her pain, even if there was nothing to take.
If he hadn't closed himself off, then he might have shed a tear. As it was all he did was shake his head and walk away, his own heart beating wildly in his chest, the only sign that he was upset.
He never saw Derek again.
"Four down," Scott mumbled.
He knew that he had changed after Isaac's death, what was left of his once big pack, knew it too, and one day Liam had cornered him and forced him to talk.
He could sense him as soon as he entered his house, so it was no surprise to see Liam sitting in the corner chair, just like Derek used to do all the time before he left.
He sighed deeply and moved to sit on the couch beside the chair.
"What do you want?" he asked tiredly, his shoulders hunching forward in a vain attempt to shield himself from prying eyes, even from his beta.
Liam didn't answer him. The now young adult was home from college, he too had gotten away from Beacon Hills.
He flinched when he felt a hand on his knee and looked up into Liam's blue eyes, true concern showing in them.
"We're worried about you Scott." The beta looked down at the floor before looking back up again, regret showing in his eyes and face.
"Derek told me what happened to Peter." Tears welled up in the younger wolfs eyes and Scott felt a pang in his chest, a pang of regret.
"You're afraid I'll become like him?" it wasn't a question, not really.
Liam nodded and the older wolf couldn't resist to pull the other wolf into a hug, whispering in his ear, "I have gotten my revenge Liam, and I'm sorry that I've closed myself off but," he swallowed before continuing, "I've already lost so much and I'm afraid that if I don't distance myself now, then-then I'm afraid I'll become like Peter," he ended.
The younger wolf nodded and left him alone again.
He shook his head and sighed, before he moved to sit on/in his chair again.
Liam was the next one. Hunters killed him, all for the reason that he was a member of the McCall pack.
He remembered feeling the bond between him and his second in command bitten beta snap, how he lost control where he was, how Malia who had been with him at the time had tried to restrain him without success. He had gotten loose and tracked down the hunters that had taken his closet pack member from him and killed them where he found them, no regrets for his actions, even when it caught the attention of the Calaveras.
Liam had been the shoe that had waited to drop and Scott went on a killing spree, killing every hunter he could find.
He did it brutally and bloody, not even trying to hide for other hunters that it was a werewolf that had done it.
It lasted two years before he was finally caught. It was a group of five of Araya's best hunters; they had been given orders to bring him back alive.
The fight between the feral Alpha and the five men had been long and bloody, leaving Scott exhausted before he finally realized that there was no way out of this and he let the hunters take him.
'Well we shall not stumble, no we shall not fall
We shall not crumble, no we shall stand tall
With death it will come as surely as the night
But we shall not run, no we shall live but to fight
Oh with blood on our hands and dirt on our knees
We'll tear the ones who brought the disease.
He remembered nothing after.
He remembered that he had woken up in a bed, tied with wolfs bane laced ropes. He hadn't done anything when he woke up; he simply sighed and awaited his end.
He remembered that Araya had entered the room, her features older than he remembered them.
She had said nothing as she sat in a chair by the side of the bed, her hands folded over each other.
He looked at the old hunter with tired eyes before laying his head down on the pillow again, waiting for the matriarch to speak.
"It took a lot of time to convince Cristopher that he should leave you to us, young wolf."
He frowned before he remembered who she spoke about. He hadn't heard from the sole remaining Argent in a long time, but he had known that the man hunted him, he could see the signs.
"You left your pack defenseless in a hard time. We got news from other hunters that Derek and Malia Hale's bodies were found in the forest surrounding your former home, a werewolf did it, judging by the marks that were left on them."
At the mention of his former pack mates' names, he began to trash and scream, struggling against his bindings. Vaguely he heard Araya call for someone and the door opening again, a sharp prick in his arm and he was lost to the darkness again.
He remembered the time he spent bound to the bed, wondering how he could have lost it so much that he hadn't even sensed Derek and Malia die, how he could leave them all alone while he was killing every hunter and werewolf pack that he could come across.
He smiled to himself, it was sad and terrible and he had had no idea of why the hunters was keeping him alive, he had killed hunters, didn't that mean they should kill him too?
He knew better now.
It was then he had met her, she was human, she was a hunter, and he fell in love again.
She wasn't Isaac and she could never compete with his former lover and the fact that she knew he could never truly love her and she accepted it, made him love her all the more.
Her name was…..
A/N.
I know, I'm cruel.
I just thought that this would be the chapter where he told how he lost everything and let the next be how he gained something.
Please review, they mean so much to me.