Seth

He was scared.

Fear clawed at Brandon's insides as Benny snatched him from the safety of the house, and pulled him towards the growing chaos in the backyard, kids and Omegas gathering under the shade of the trees. After the confrontation with Alex, every new scent, every unfamiliar face felt like a potential threat. But this pack…these Omegas... they moved with such easy confidence, such casual grace. Like they'd never known what it meant to be afraid.

Brandon's eyes darted across the expansive grounds, cataloging exits and hiding spots with practiced precision. The craft tables under ancient oaks offered cover. The scattered yurts and cabins meant places to run. The lake beyond promised escape if needed. But these pack Omegas didn't see the yard that way - to them it was home; a sanctuary.

Another RV rumbled into view, a behemoth of metal that made Brandon's shoulders tense. People spilled out, laughing, their voices a happy cacophony. Kids - seven of them - swarmed out like a tide of bright clothes and excited shrieks. Toddlers tumbled over each other, their tiny hands grabbing at anything within reach. Omegas with babies nestled close, their scents a comforting balm amidst the general chaos.

Benny assigned Brandon to help with the craft tables. He lined up supplies with OCD precision, his knuckles white around each glitter container. The cheerful colors seemed to mock his racing pulse, each new footstep behind him sending a jolt through his spine. Despite the suppressants, he caught whiffs of his own scent - bitter notes revealing his presence like a wounded animal in the open.

"No, you can't put the glitter next to the glue," Benny waved his hands at Brandon, completely at ease in the growing crowd. "That's asking for disaster. Trust me, I learned that lesson last year when three kids dumped entire containers into their paste."

Brandon watched as Benny laughed, his hands gently guiding a tiny child's hand away from the glue sticks. The sight stirred something within him, a knot of dread tangled with an inexplicable longing. A part of him felt empty and useless.

"Where should I put them?" Brandon held up the sparkly containers.

"Far corner, behind the construction paper. And we need cups for the brushes-"Benny paused, rubbing his swollen belly. "Spencer! Can you grab those plastic cups from the kitchen?"

Brandon arrange the supplies, using extreme care and precise, control. Different from Benny's animated gestures.

"The markers go in these holders," Benny demonstrated. "Keeps the little ones from turning them into projectiles."

Benny was talking, his voice a constant stream of energy as he prattled on about supplies and projects. But Brandon's attention was snagged on the little ones that were already scampering around the table, their eager eyes bright with anticipation.

Benny noticed his silence and turned to him, concern etching lines into his youthful face. "Hey, you okay there?"

Brandon forced a tight smile, his fingers twisting the hem of his borrowed shirt. "I'm fine. Just tired from yesterday."

But Benny's eyes narrowed as Brandon flinched when a small girl darted past, her pigtails bouncing.

"They make you nervous." Benny's voice was gentle, free of judgment.

Brandon's mind raced for a plausible excuse. "At Regent, we weren't allowed near children until our final year. Something about proper training first." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. "I never got that far in the curriculum."

"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard." Benny shook his head. "How are you supposed to learn if you can't interact with them?"

Brandon shrugged, relief flooding through him as Benny accepted the explanation. It was better than admitting the truth - that every child's face reminded him of what he'd lost.

Benny's laughter echoed in the air, warm and infectious. "Don't worry," he said, clapping Brandon on the shoulder. "They're just little humans with sticky fingers and boundless energy."

Benny caught the tension knotted in Brandon's frame, his face softened and he turned Brandon towards the parking area. "Why don't you go help Megan and Seth with their stuff? She has some kids costumes for us." Benny pointed to the parking lot. "The minivan. They just pulled up."

Gratitude washed over Brandon. He nodded, sending a thankful glance Benny's way before he started towards an ancient looking minivan. Rust speckled its paint, the tires slightly deflated. He reached the minivan just as a tall and lanky teen stepped out, his cropped white-blonde hair catching the sunlight, he was wrestling with a bulky duffel bag.

"Do I really have to help with this unloading stuff? Can't you Omegas just do it?" The boy, theatrically, dropped the bag with excessive enthusiasm. He spoke with that particular brand of adolescent superiority that made people want to slap them. He was, all sharp angles and awkward limbs, he looked up, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Brandon. He sniffed the air and looked at Brandon curiously.

"Who are you?" the kid demanded, suspicion lacing his voice as if he'd been kept out of the loop on something important.

"Um…I'm Brandon. Benny said I should lend a hand." Brandon responded, his voice hesitant.

"Hey there," called a woman exiting the driver's seat, brushing back dark blonde hair. "I'm Megan, this is Seth my son, and my daughter Reese is somewhere around." Her warm, maternal voice and genuine smile eased Brandon's anxiety. Her face held laugh lines, and her crystal-blue eyes - just like her son's - sparkled. Though her motherly presence was comforting, Brandon still tensed at the prospect of another new face.

Brandon forced a polite smile. "Nice to meet you both." He kept his voice steady, channeling the practiced charm he'd learned at Regent. His eyes darted between Megan's warm smile and Seth's scrutinizing gaze.

"Here, sweetie." Megan handed him a bulging duffel filled with what sounded like plastic rattling against fabric. "These are the kids' costumes and some activities. Would you mind taking them to Benny at the craft table?"

"Of course." Brandon adjusted his grip on the heavy bag.

Brandon hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder, its contents jangling loudly. He turned to make his way back to the craft table when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold up," Seth called out, suddenly at his side. The teenager's change of heart was as swift as a summer storm. His face bore a hint of a smirk, as if challenging Brandon to question his motives. "I'll give you a hand with that."

Brandon eyed him skeptically, the bag's strap digging into his shoulder. "You sure? You seemed pretty keen on avoiding 'Omega stuff' a minute ago."

Seth shrugged, adopting an air of nonchalance that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe I've got a sudden interest in crafts." He punctuated his sentence with a cheeky grin, and Brandon couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's blatant attempt at flirting.

A small figure darted between them - Reese, her pigtails bouncing as she rolled her eyes at her brother. "Oh please. Last week you said you wouldn't be caught dead helping with 'Omega stuff.' But now that there's a cute Omega..."

"Shut up, Reese!" Seth's face flushed crimson as he lunged for his sister. Brandon instinctively stepped back, his heart rate spiking at the sudden aggressive movement. The duffel bag slipped from his shoulder, landing with a plastic clatter that made him wince. Seth's embarrassment radiated off him in waves of distressed Alpha pheromones that set Brandon's teeth on edge.

"Make me!" Reese stuck out her tongue. "You think just because you presented as Alpha two months ago you're suddenly in charge. He even tried using his Alpha voice on me to take out the garbage!" She turned to Brandon with an exaggerated eye roll. "Can you believe him?"

"I did not!" Seth protested, his voice cracking slightly.

"Did too! Mom had to ground you for a week!"

Brandon watched the siblings' back-and-forth bickering with a mix of fascination and unease. When Reese darted away, Seth's attention snapped back to him with laser focus. The teen stepped forward, plucking the heavy duffel from Brandon's shoulder despite being mere steps from the craft table.

"I've got this," Seth declared, puffing up his chest slightly. He stepped closer than necessary to take the bag, his nostrils flaring as he deliberately inhaled Brandon's scent. The teen's pupils dilated slightly, like a predator catching an interesting smell.

"So," Seth began, his voice cracking slightly, "you… uh… like, doing crafts?" He adjusted his posture, trying for a nonchalant stance that looked more like a startled flamingo, but his eyes never left Brandon's face. Another deep inhale, less subtle this time. "Your scent changes when you're nervous. Gets all... shaky. Like your hands."

Brandon's fingers twitched at his sides, and Seth's gaze snapped to the movement, tracking it with unsettling focus. The young Alpha leaned in slightly, as if chasing the change in Brandon's scent.

"Sorry," Seth mumbled, attempting to sound embarrassed even as his nostrils flared again. "Mom says I'm not supposed to comment on people's scents. But yours is just so... interesting. Especially when it gets all trembling like that."

Brandon shifted his weight, uncomfortable with Seth's intense focus on his scent. He glanced up at the gangly teen who towered over him despite his youth. The boy's crystal blue eyes held that particular gleam of a newly presented Alpha - eager, uncertain, and desperate to prove himself.

"It's fine," Brandon forced a smile. "You're still learning to process all the new... sensations." The words felt hollow. He'd never actually dealt with such a young Alpha before - at least, not that he could remember clearly. His memories from the Golden Collar were often a haze of drugs and pain.

Seth beamed at Brandon's apparent understanding. "Yeah! Everything's so intense now. The scents, the sounds..." He leaned closer, nostrils flaring again.

Brandon took a careful step back, maintaining his practiced smile. "We should get these supplies to Benny."

"Yeah, well, crafts aren't exactly...Alpha activities," Seth muttered, kicking a pebble.

"I suppose not," Brandon replied, matching his tone. "More of an Omega thing, I guess? But we have our own strengths, too," Brandon said carefully. "Just like Alphas."

Seth nodded eagerly. "Right! Like how Omegas can calm everyone down and make everything feel safe." His eyes took on a curious yet predatory gleam as he stepped closer. "What else can you do?"

Brandon's heart hammered against his ribs as Seth invaded his space. The young Alpha's scent carried notes of aggression poorly masked by artificial curiosity. Brandon recognized that look - had seen it countless times before. The hunger. The need to possess. To control. Then with a blink it was gone.

As they approached the craft table, Benny looked up, a surprised smile spreading across his face at the sight of Seth. "Well, look who's slumming it with the Omegas," Benny teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Seth rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement. He held out the duffel bag, his movements awkward but earnest.

Seth peered into the duffel bag, pulling out a sparkly pink tutu with exaggerated disgust. "Please tell me I don't have to help with these. Last time Reese bribed me try one on, she took pictures." His face flushed red at the admission. "Mom still has them on her phone."

Brandon laughed, a genuine sound that surprised even himself. The weight that had been pressing on his chest since seeing the children seemed to lift slightly. Seth's earnest awkwardness and Benny's playful teasing created an atmosphere so different from what he was used to - no hidden agendas, no carefully calculated moves.

"No tutu wearing," Brandon promised, his shoulders relaxing. "Though I can't guarantee you won't end up with glitter somewhere. That stuff has a mind of its own."

The normalcy of the moment struck him - just three people, joking around a craft table on a sunny morning. No expectations, no pressure to perform or please. Just... being. It felt foreign, yet oddly right.

Brandon's laughter subsided as he caught sight of a figure moving towards them through the throng of people. His heart skipped a beat, the sound of his own pulse thrumming in his ears.

Zack.