Ellie wasn't emotionally stable enough to go to school without a little bit of complaining to her uncle. After the search the night before turned sour (the trail ended at the Hale house – the house that was totally empty), she'd crept back into her bedroom. Allison's light was still on behind the door when Ellie went passed it (she needed to get washed up in bathroom – there was literally dirt everywhere), but she didn't go inside to check on her cousin.

When she woke the next day, it was to the foreboding realisation that school resumed at exactly 8 am, meaning she needed to get dressed right away. It was still strange for her not to hear the usual tone-deaf singing through the twelve inches of dry wall that separated her and Allison's rooms; the other brunette hadn't graced her ears with the horror that is Justin Bieber in almost three weeks.

The drive there was more than slightly awkward. Since she'd been put on probation with her relative, Ellie wasn't allowed to drive herself anywhere. Chris gave her a ride in his monster SUV (Victoria was smiling smugly in the background like the usual self-absorbed bitch she revelled in being) and her cousin drove in the Mazda all by herself. It didn't strike Ellie until she was stuffing the plastic-covered dress in her locker that it was Kate's funeral later that day.

Her other aunt was still a tough subject for her. The woman had been her role model - everything she aspired to be: confident, beautiful, and reasonably kind with a sprinkle of hostility. Kate was the epitome of adult superiority, and one of her best friend's growing up. It was different now, though. She was a convicted murderer. A dead, convicted murderer. Someone she'd looked up to had ended up being a cold-blooded killer who went against every Argent rule in the book. We hunt those who hunt us – not werewolves who had never hurt a human further then tackling them in an aggressive football game.

Hours passed by like minutes. Ellie didn't talk to Allison, or Scott (even though it was hard, she couldn't bring herself to want to speak to him on such a sad day), and she tried her best to ignore the whispers that seemed to follow her.

Yeah, her aunt was a supposed 'serial killer', but that didn't mean she had anything to do with it. Honestly, it was a little insulting – especially then. Her mind was reeling from the knowledge that she was about to bury one of the last family member she had left. It would be her second funeral in less than a year, and the idea of being reminded of the last one she went to made her stomach churn. Ellie had lost so much family lately that she was starting to feel like Elena freaking Gilbert and, as pretty as Nina Dobrev is (seriously, she wasn't into girls but if she would definitely screw Nina Dobrev), the comparison was unappreciated, even from her own head.

When the end of the day rolled around, she went back to her locker to collect her dress. It was pretty, with a loose flowing skirt and two thin straps. Her shoes were modest, her cardigan cropped at the waist as to not go further than the loose belt tied beneath her bust. She'd tried it on the night before, and it was nice. It would've been nicer if it hadn't been for that sort of occasion, though.

Ellie had just draped the garment over her arm when an unfamiliar piece of paper caught her attention. It was yellow, with blue lines, and, unfolded, it read "Because I love you".

Her mind rushed back to the night of the winter formal, when Scott had stared at her with doe brown eyes and said the exact same words. The memory was welcomed – one of her best – and it made a brilliant smile tug at her lips.

Even with everything going on, she knew that she could always rely on Scott: Her perfect boyfriend who loved her enough to overlook the fact that her family wanted him dead.

Shaking her head, she slammed her locker shut, turning the blinding grin to the boy next to her. She recognised him to be Matt something-or-other, a boy from her history (or math – she didn't know the specific lesson) class.

"Nice dress," he told her kindly.

Ellie shrugged, "I guess it's okay." She eyed the Canon in his hand, "Nice camera. It looks pretty expensive; are you into photography?"

Matt's eyes widened, mouth dropping like he couldn't believe they were conversing. "Yeah, um, I mean I'm pretty, uh, passionate about taking pictures."

"Of, like, nature, and stuff?" she asked, genuine interest forming at the forefront of her mind.

"W-yeah. Not people, or anything, though. I would never take pictures of people without asking them, you know. I'm not, I mean-" he stumbled.

Ellie cut him off good naturedly. "I get it. You like taking pictures, and a lot of people get tetchy about it because they think you're filming them. Some people are really judgemental like that."

"Yeah," Matt agreed, a slightly dazed quality filming over his shark-like eyes.

They were silent for a moment, before she heard someone behind her mutter: "It was her aunt, you know, the one who killed all those people."

"You mean the crazy bitch who killed all those people." Another voice corrected, giggling. Ellie turned to look at the pair of girls leaning on the lockers behind her.

"The fire, the animal attacks… it was all her aunt." The first one muttered.

The second (who she knew to be Angela Morse), gasped: "No way! I sit next to her in English!"

"Find a new seat."

Ellie looked down, flinching internally at the judgement in the girls' voices. She hated that her label of new girl had changed so dramatically – it seemed that the word had spread with surprising velocity in the few weeks she'd been gone.

She wondered if Allison had been bearing through it all day, too (then she wondered if Allison would ever talk to her again for her to find out).

Matt gave her a look that could only be described as pitying – something she resented – before she simply quirked her lips at him and walked briskly down the hall.

Or, at least, she tried to walk briskly down the hall – an arm shot out and grabbed her before she made it all the way.

The door slammed behind her, and suddenly Scott's face was in front of hers – the same sweet, handsome face that made her stomach erupt in butterflies.

"I don't know if I should be happy you saved me or worried that you have some freaky connection going on with my emotions." Ellie joked weakly, tears filling her eyes at the sight of a familiar face. Why had she avoided him all day? He was the only person who could make her feel better after the shit time she'd had.

"I heard your heartbeat," he said by way of explanation, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know if I can do this, Scott," Ellie said, resting her forehead on his chest. "I don't know if I can go to the funeral. Everyone is going to be watching me, and there'll be cameras, and all I've been able to think about is how my parent's funeral was only a few months ago… I can't. I really can't."

Scott stroked a hand through her hair. "Yes you can," he said confidently. "Ellie, it's all going to get better, okay? We'll find Lydia and Allison will start talking to you again… just, think about it. No more Peter, or psycho werewolf killings."

"I can't go like this," she pulled away from him to stare into his eyes. "I'm all snotty and -" she broke off with a noise of disgust.

"Aren't you supposed to cry at funerals?" Scott asked, nose brushing along hers.

"For Kate?" Ellie laughed humourlessly. "You honestly think she deserves that?"

"You don't have to cry for her, Ellie." He whispered, "Cry for you. Cry because you lost someone who was important to you. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

"Yeah."

"You'll be fine," he assured her. "And I'll be there to make sure."

"What?" she blinked, "You can't be there. Someone will see you, and my aunt will literally kill you- "

"I'll figure it out, okay?" Scott smiled, "I won't be right next to you, but I'll be there. You'll see me, I promise."

"Really?" Ellie sighed, "Thank you."

They kissed for a moment, before Scott pulled back and opened the door for her, muttering a 'you first'.

She didn't want to leave him, but knowing that he would risk disembowelment just to help her through the death of someone he hated made her chest warm. She couldn't wait until she saw him again.

;;

It was official: Ellie hated reporters. They were crowding around her and the rest of her family like freaking vultures clothes in GAP jeans, and she could barely stop herself from reaching out and whacking them across the head. Chris and Victoria were on the outside of their small huddle, protecting her and Allison from the brunt of the attack. Being so close to her cousin after so long was a bit weird, but she was glad to find that when she clasped their hands together for comfort the taller girl didn't pull away.

The Beacon Hills police department were dotted around the edge of the graveyard, trying to control the swarm of overbearing, camera-clad assholes. Forget werewolves – these lowlifes were the real soulless monsters.

They yelled things out, asked for comments (mainly from Chris, but some were directed at Victoria also) but the Argent clan simply forced their way to the barricades. When they'd passed, Sheriff Stilinski blocked the hole, giving a few of the pushier people a stern look.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Ellie heard Chris mutter.

Victoria made a face, "Yeah, well, it wasn't mine."

"I tried to stop him, but he insisted on making a show of it." Chris glared, releasing his hold on Ellie's arm with a sharp glare to his wife.

"Well, if he insisted, he can deal with this when he gets here," her aunt sniffed.

"When who gets here?" Allison asked, squeezing Ellie's hand.

Victoria frowned. "Just sit down with your cousin, sweetheart."

Allison did as she was told, bringing Ellie with her. They sat next to each other in silence, Ellie's head swinging around as surreptitiously as it could to catch a glimpse of Scott. He wasn't anywhere to be seen… but Matt was. In fact, he's ducked the barrier and was heading over to them in a sort of lowered run.

Ellie remembered the crush she knew he had on her brunette companion, and wondered if he was approaching to comfort her. God knew she needed it.

Matt crouched on the grass, aiming his camera to face the two girls. He seemed not to notice that Ellie had seen him, instead snapping a few shot directed in her direction as well as Allison's. A chill crept down the back of her neck as she remembered their conversation from earlier that day – when he said he didn't take pictures of people.

It was for the school newspaper, she decided. He wasn't doing this of his own free will; it was for an obligation he had no control over.

A hand was suddenly covering the lens, wrinkled and marred with age. She followed the limb up to the face of the man and felt her breath rush out of her.

Gerard Argent was a very intimidating man. He stood at less than 6ft tall, with a balding head and drooping cheeks. Honestly, he looked like a simple old man until you caught his eyes. They were cold and hard, filled with malicious loathing and calculating manipulation. When regarding him in comparison to the rest of his family, he seemed to bear a striking resemblance to his daughter in law, Victoria. They were both terrifying, and they both triggered your gag reflex from an intense dislike that rises into your throat. Ellie harboured distaste for the man – Stiles was going to hate him.

Gerard spoke with Matt momentarily, a look of frustrating patronisation painted over his features, then he took out a part of the Canon and broke it into pieces before letting them fall to the floor.

Matt gave him a look of astonishment, yanked his camera back into his hands, and walked away.

Chris greeted his father politely, allowing a hug. The two were obviously uncomfortable around each other, having only seen each other a handful of times since they stopped living in the same household. Victoria was next, muttering an 'I'm sorry' that was as empty as her chest cavity.

Gerard looked to Ellie and her cousin next. "You remember me?"

Allison nodded slowly, but Ellie pursed her lips and looked stubbornly away…

… in time to meet Scott's eyes. He was hidden away behind a stone angel, watching the older man with confusion and interest.

The other Argent's followed her gaze, and the werewolf shot back out of view. Ellie rolled her eyes, a soft, fond smile tugging at her lips.

"Seeing as you haven't seen me at any other setting than a funeral since you were both three, I don't suppose you'll call me grandpa?" Gerard asked, grinning (threateningly). "So, if it's comfortable, call me Gerard for the time being. But I'd prefer Grandpa."

He took a seat to Ellie's left, the teenager shuffling slightly in discomfort. This was going to be a long two hours.

;;

Scott and Stiles were shoved roughly into the back of sheriff Stilinski's squad car after having been caught watching the funeral. The fact that reinforcements had been sent had made Stiles' head swim. Why couldn't there be non-hunting Argents? Why couldn't that be a thing?

"415 Adam," came a voice from the comms system.

"I didn't copy that," Stilinski said in reply. "Did you just say '415 Adam'?"

Stiles whispered to Scott, "Disturbance in a car."

"They were taking a heart attack patient DOA, when something hit them."

"Hit the ambulance?"

"Copy that. I'm standing in front of it right now."

Stiles leaned forward in interest.

"Something got in the back. There's blood everywhere, and I mean everywhere."

The officer on the end of the line told the Sheriff the address, and the two teenage boys were out of the seat in seconds.

;;

Later that night, Ellie received a call from Lydia's phone.

"Hello?" she greeted wearily, hope coiling inside her. Had her best friend finally been found?

"Ellie," sounded the unmistakable voice of the strawberry blonde.

"Lydia! They found you!"

"Actually, I found them."

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"I can't really remember anything, and, yes, I'm fine. I don't think your twitchy friend is, though."

"Stiles? What's wrong with Stiles?"

"I walked out of the woods naked and he fainted after seeing me."

"… That sounds like him."

"Yep."

"I'm really glad you're back now. School was hell without you."

"…"

"Lydia, you there?"

"… Yeah. I've got to go, though. I'll see you tomorrow, I promise. Oh, and will you tell Stiles that if he thinks about me naked inappropriately I'll dismember him?"

"Of course I'll tell him. Bye Lydia."

"Night, Ellie."

"Love you."

And finally, Ellie was able to relax into sleep.