To Better The Shattered; Scott McCall [2] ✔

1.10 In Which He Has His Own Pack

Allison glared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"None of you can heal like I do," he said derisively. Ellie rolled her eyes. "I just don't want you getting hurt!"

Feeling thoroughly offended at her boyfriend's lack of faith in her ability, Ellie turned briskly to Allison's unnecessarily large purse and rummaged through. She wasn't stupid – she knew that her cousin had been taking an assortment of weapons to school since learning about werewolves. There were plenty of things they could both use to defend themselves.

Finally, she pulled out two small crossbows and threw one to Allison, who caught it easily. "We can protect ourselves, Scott." Scott's face fell. "What?" she asked, worry returning to her voice "Did something happen?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?" He admitted softly, "I love you, and if anything happened to you I would – I would go out of my mind, Ellie. If anything happens, call me." His eyes flickered to where Stiles stood awkwardly with an armed Allison. "The same goes for you both, too."

"We have until three, you guys." Allison announced, "So maybe standing around here isn't a good way to spend our time. Especially because" – the bell rang – "she's just getting out of her session with Morrell and is about to be wholly unsupervised."

"Okay," He nodded, "Okay. Go to the translate person, but meet us outside of school before three. Stiles, Ellie... you two make sure Lydia stays safe. Say we're studying; that seems plausible enough for her not to question us dragging her to my house after school."

"Of course," said Ellie, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "We'll keep everything water-tight on our end. Now, go reason with the alpha-bitch."

Scott turned to the door, leaving before the rest of them to run out to Derek before he apparated away, but soon spun around, hand darting up to catch an arrow before it planted in the back of his head. Stiles, holding a crossbow and looking embarrassed, gave him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry," he said, handing the weapon back to Allison. "Sorry, there's a sensitive trigger on that."

;

Finding Lydia before Isaac and Erica wasn't nearly as hard as Ellie thought it would be. Stiles had led her dutifully out of the library and down the service stairs that hadn't been used in a few decades, Ellie meeting him by the doors with her crossbow within reach in case they needed it.

Derek had never been reliable, according to Scott, so their precautions were a complete necessity. The idea of them leaving Lydia's safety, Lydia's life, in the hands of a volatile werewolf who hated most of them wasn't appealing, or clever.

Of course, the strawberry blonde had no idea why they were being so pushy with her, so Stiles' impatient grasp on her arm was met with resistance and anger. "If we're doing a study group," she sniffed, "Why don't we just stay in the library?"

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else," Stiles told her, hand moving to res on her back to make sure she stayed moving.

There was a tap on Ellie's shoulder, and when she turned to see who it was she was met with Jackson's face (with an expression like a chewed-up flip-flop). Sighing, she nodded, knowing they would need as much help as possible, and, as much as it annoyed her to admit, Jackson did care about Lydia, and Lydia cared about Jackson. And his opinion, so if he was up for an impromptu study-session at Scott's house than she was more likely to be compliant.

"Why don't they just meet us in the library?" Lydia asked, curling her lip at the boy next to her.

"Oh, that would've been a great idea!" He said enthusiastically, moving his grip to her shoulders to manoeuvre her down the hall. "Too late!"