A/N: First story! I've been wanting write a story with this story line for a while now. Who better to use it on than my poor baby Stiles? Hope you guys enjoy! I would love to hear any CC you have for me! This might be a bit rough seeing as I've only looked over it twice. Let's give this a shot fam!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and make no profit off of this. This is purely for my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of others too!

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John Stilinski rubbed at his forehead and released a heavy sigh. "Explain it to me again. Slower this time. A witch did what exactly?"

Stiles blew out a frustrated breath. He placed his hands on the table that he, his dad, and Scott were seated at. "A witch may or may not have placed some kind of curse on one of us. We don't know for sure but whatever mumbo-jumbo she was spewing sounded pretty authentic. She finished it with some hand gesture; she ground her fist into her right palm and then shoved the palm at us."

"We've already done some research on it and haven't come up with anything yet. Since we can't remember the exact words the witch said, it's making it hard to find info. Lydia and Allison are both looking too," Scott interjected. "It could be nothing, but just in case, we wanted you to know in case it actually is something."

John nodded his head slowly. "Thank you for that. I appreciate it. But," he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, "what exactly were you doing with a witch?" The two friends exchanged a glance. "Long story," they both said. John shifted his jaw. "Figures," he mumbled. "Well keep me updated," he said at normal volume. He pushed his chair back and stood up, groaning slightly as his back gave a loud pop. " I'm going to bed. I've got an early shift in the morning. Scott, you staying the night?" John figured since tomorrow was Saturday that his son's friend would probably want to stay over. Scott looked up at the elder Stilinski. "If you don't mind," he replied with a soft smile, knowing John wouldn't mind at all. And John didn't. He left after bidding both teens goodnight. Scott checked his phone for any missed messages from Lydia or Allison. Seeing none, he slid his phone back into his pocket. He slouched back in his chair. "So...," he started. " Do we want to research this some more? Or do you want to get your butt kicked on Halo?" He looked up with a smirk at Stiles who was out of his chair in record time. "You're on, McCall!" He shouted before dashing towards the stairs and bounding up them, Scott right on his heels.

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"Stiles, man, are you planning on getting up today?"

Stiles grunted noncommittally and rolled over to face the wall. Scott sighed. "Dude, it's already noon and I'm getting tired of watching you sleep."

"d'n wa 'e slee' 'en.."

Scott rolled his eyes. He had known Stiles long enough and had slept over enough times (or Stiles had slept over at Scott's place) that his brain had developed a "Sleepy Stiles" translator. Stiles' previous comment translated to "Don't watch me sleep then." Scott spun lazily in Stiles' desk chair, thinking of a way to get his friend out of bed. He put his foot down to halt his slow rotation as an idea hit him. "Hey man? Just wanted to let you know that Lydia invited us over to her house to do some research on the witch thing together. But since you already have hibernation plans for today, I can text her and tell her you're not coming..." Scott mentally applauded himself as he watched Stiles frantically throw the covers off and almost fall out of bed in rush to get ready to "go see Lydia." Scott pressed his lips together to stifle the laughter that begged to be set free as he watched Stiles careen around the room in a panic. Stiles had one leg through a pair of jeans when he noticed Scott with his fist pressed to his mouth and his shoulders shaking from obviously suppressed laughter. Stiles glared. "Lydia didn't invite us over, did she?"

Scott quickly shook his head 'no', still holding back his mirth. Stiles grabbed the closest pillow off his bed and threw it at Scott. "I hate you," he said flatly. He finished donning his jeans without the previous panic that had been so cruelly and unnecessarily inflicted upon him. He threw on a gray hoodie before heading downstairs in search of breakfast and/or lunch. Upon entering the kitchen, Stiles saw the dishes left out from what must have been his father's hasty breakfast. "Did you eat yet, Scotty?" He asked the werewolf who had followed him into the kitchen. He peered into the fridge to see what there was that he could make. The only thing that looked like it wouldn't give them food poisoning was eggs. "I hope you're a fan of eggs cause that's all we've got. Unless you want to take a chance with the Chinese food from who knows when." Stiles pulled said Chinese food out and gave the carton an experimental sniff. He jerked his nose out of range the second the smell hit him. "Oh absolutely not!" He gagged and chucked the container into the trash. He spun around to face Scott. "How about we go out and grab something?"

Scott had his phone in his hand and a confused look on his face. Stiles quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "What's up?" He asked. "Is it from the girls?" Scott nodded. "Uh yeah. It's from Allison. She says she thinks that they found something and she wants us to come over."

Stiles relaxed his eyebrow and pursed his lips instead. "Oh. So what's the frowny face for? Shouldn't you be excited for a reason to see Allison?"

Scott bit his lip. "It's not that. I mean, yeah, I'm excited to see her, but her text says that if it's what they think it is, we're not going to like it."

Stiles snorted and turned around to close the fridge he had left open. "It can't be that bad." He grimaced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Both he and Scott rushed to the middle of the kitchen and knocked repeatedly on the wooden table. They had both learned to stop using that phrase once they became more frequently involved with the supernatural. The world seemed to accept that saying as a challenge to throw all the crap it had at them and the pack. Deeming the danger passed..., "Allison's house?" Scott asked. Stiles nodded. "Allison's house." They went about getting shoes and keys before they headed out to Stiles' jeep. They pulled out of the Stilinski's driveway and headed towards the Argent's house."

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Chris Argent was in the middle of washing the lunch dishes when he heard the doorbell go off. He grabbed a towel to dry his soapy hands on as he went to see who was at the door. Peering through the small lens, he made out Scott and the Stilinski kid. Chris frowned. Allison hadn't told him that she was expecting company. He unlatched the door's chain and twisted the main bolt out of place before reaching down and sliding the floor bolt into the unlocked position. He opened the door to his daughter's friends. "Boys," he greeted, throwing the towel over his shoulder. Scott raised a hand and gave a small wave. "Hi, Mr. Argent," he said with a smile. Stiles gave his greeting the way he did everything: overenthusiastic. "Hey, Mr. Argent! Loving the whole domestic look you've got going for you!"

Chris raised an eyebrow at him as he gave himself a once over. He had his set of workout sweatpants on and a white v-neck t-shirt. And of course, the dish towel on is right shoulder. Nothing special. Though seeing that the two boys normally saw him in his jeans, work boots, and leather jacket, this was quite a step down. He chuckled to himself lightly. "The girls are in Allison's room," he directed, stepping aside to let the two teens pass. Scott smiled. "Thanks Mr. Argent."

The boys walked down the short hallway before reaching Allison's room. The door way shut, but Scott could hear Allison and Lydia talking in hushed tones inside. Stiles reached for the door handle before a hand on his wrist stopped him. "What?" He asked, wondering why Scott had stopped him. Scott raised his eyebrows at him incredulously. "You're supposed to knock before you go into girls rooms. You can't just go barging in like that."

Stiles straightened up and squinted at him, as if that would help him understand Scott's reasoning. "Why?"

"Because," Scott shifted his weight, "they could be naked or something."

Stiles raised an eyebrow at his friend. "And we shouldn't go in there if they were because..." Scott blushed, knowing that Stiles was being purposefully difficult. "Stiles you-" He was saved at that exact moment by Allison swinging the door open and dragging them both in by their shirts. She quickly shut the door behind them and leaned against it. "We need to do a test," she said before joining Lydia on the edge of the bed. "And hello to you too. What did you guys find and why does it require a test?" Stiles responded to Allison's unorthodox greeting. Lydia looked up from the nail she currently filing. "We found a potential candidate for the witch's spell. We need to run a test to see if we're correct. If the test doesn't work, then it's back to the drawing board."

Scott shifted uneasily. "Are you at least going to tell what you think it is?"

Allison bit her lip. "I think it might be better just to show you." She stood up positioned herself in front of the werewolf. She took in a deep steadying breath. Scott could smell the nerves coming off of her in waves. What was she so nervous about? Was this dangerous? "Allison is this-"

"Scott, sing me the alphabet."

Scott blinked. Wait, huh? Was she really getting so worked up over asking him to sing his ABC's? "You want me to sing the alphabet?" He asked confusedly.

"Scott, sing me the alphabet," Allison repeated her command. Scott frowned. "Why? I mean, if it's part of your test, sure, I'll sing it. But-"

Allison blew out a breath of a relief. "It's not you," she said. This just served to make Scott more confused. "What's not me? Allison, will you please explain? Is this dangerous?" Allison ignored his plea as she moved to stand in front of Stiles. Stiles gave her a cheeky grin. "If you're going to ask me to sing the alphabet too, I'm going to have to take a raincheck on-"

"Stiles, sing me the alphabet."

"A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H,-"

Scott's jaw dropped open as Stile's unquestioningly started to sing the alphabet. Stiles didn't sing in front of anyone. In the thirteen years that Scott had known him, never had Stiles so much as sang "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". And yet, here he was, openly singing in front of three people. The strangest part was that, going by the look on his face, Stiles had no idea why he was doing it either. Maybe he didn't have control over it... Did he have control over it? Lydia slowly lowered her nail file and stared at Stiles with wide eyes. Allison had stepped away from Stiles and was watching him with a worried look shadowing her face. "Oh, great...," she breathed.

"-next time won't you sing with me," Stiles finished the song with his horrified still in place. The room was covered in a blanket of shocked silence. Then-

"What the hell was that?!" Stiles pratically screeched.

"Oportet te discere oboedientiam," Lydia said quietly. All eyes swiveled to the strawerry blonde on the bed. "What?" Stiles asked harshly, taking a step towards the banshee. Lydia locked eyes with the teen. "Oportet te discere oboedientiam. It's Latin. It translates to 'You must learn obedience.' The witch literally cursed you with an obedience spell."

Stiles rubbed viciously at his forehead. "An obedience spell. Does this make me a freaking dog or something?" Lydia shrugged. "Or something. It means that until we can find a way to reverse the curse, you'll have to obey every command given to you. If Allison had asked you to sing the alphabet, you could have said no. But since she told you to sing it, you didn't have a choice. Until we figure this out, you're going to be stuck obeying every command."

Stiles grabbed at his hair in frustration. "Every command?" He repeated in a strained voice. Lydia picked up her nail file and dropped it on the floor. She looked innocently up the boy. "Pick it up," she said to Stiles. Immediately, he bent down and retrieved the emery board before he could realize what he was doing. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Scott could feel the tension emitting from Stiles. He could also sense the rising panic in his friend but he didn't need his wolf senses to see that. If he was looking closely, which he was, he could see Stiles' chest rising and falling a little faster than it should be. He walked over to his friend in hopes to intervene in the approaching panic attack or at least cut it short. Every now and then, physical contact was all it took to bring Stiles off the edge. Scott hoped this was one those times.

He placed a comforting hand on a Stiles' shoulder. Putting as much calmness and reassurance as he could into his voice, he said, "It's going to be okay, man. We're going to figure this out." He turned to the girls for support. "Right guys?" He said pointedly. Allison quickly assessed the situation before realizing what Scott was getting at. She nodded her head confidently. "Of course! No problem! Right Lydia?"

Lydia looked up from her pampering session. "Sure," she added. "You're going to be fine," she told Stiles, looking straight into his eyes. Their reassurance didn't seem to be doing much in the way of calming Stiles down. "What about school? I can't make my own choices anymore! If Coach says to run until our legs fall off, even if it's a joke, I'll do it! And I won't have control over it!" His horrified look returned suddenly with intensity as another thought occurred to him. "What if someone says 'go screw yourself'? I get told that on a daily basis. Holy crap! Guys, we've got to fix this! I can't– I have to– we– I– oh no no no no no no no..." His breathing escalated to full on hyperventilating. His vision started to fuzzy from lack of oxygen supply. He felt himself falling to his knees as hands grabbed at him and tried to keep him from falling over. He was never going to be able to go in public again until they fixed this. If people found out, would they try to take advantage of him? What was he going to tell his dad?

Stiles heard a voice break through his cloud of panic telling to breathe for goodness sake. He didn't think his lungs were capable of breathing at that current moment. But his curse-controlled mind thought otherwise and suddenly there was air flooding his lungs. Okay, maybe this curse had an upside.

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Stiles pulled into his driveway and parked Roscoe next to his dad's car. He pulled the keys out of the ignition but didn't exit the car. 'You can do this,' he thought to himself. 'It's not like he's going to use this against you.' Knowing what the witch did to him made him more paranoid than he cared to admit. But this was his dad he was talking about. He would never take advantage of his son's predicament. John would probably do everything to aid in the effort of figuring out the problem and freeing his son. With that thought lodged firmly in the front of mind, worked up the courage to finally get out the Jeep and make his way inside. He found his dad sitting at the desk in his office looking over what seemed to be old case files. John heard his son's footsteps approach and stop in front of his office. "Hey Bud," he said without looking up. After a few moments of silence – silence from Stiles never meant anything good – John looked up took in his son's stance. Stiles had one arm crossed across his chest and he was biting firmly on the thumbnail of his free hand. His brow was furrowed and his head was tilted downwards ever so slightly. John put down the file he was holding. This was Stiles' "Worried with no clue no how to fix this" look. The sheriff steeled himself for whatever was going to come out of his son's mouth. "What's wrong?" Stiles didn't reply. So, guessing game it was then. "Is this about that witch you were telling me about?" He asked. This elicited a nod from Stiles. John had taken a step in the right direction then. Moving on. "Did you guys figure out what all it was she said?" Again, Stiles nodded an affirmation. John raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "Well?"

Stiles released the nail from his mouth and breathed out a pent up sigh. "It's an obedience spell, Dad. It's recipient must obey every command given to them whether they want to or not."

John shifted his jaw to the side. "An obedience spell." He mulled it over for a moment before he spoke again. "Can I take a guess and say that you're the recipient?"

Stiles turned pleading eyes on his dad. John gave a breathy chuckle. "Son, you have some of the worst luck I have ever seen."

Stiles groaned. "That's not helping, Dad. I already know how crappy my luck is. This is where you're supposed to say that we're going to figure this out. That this is not as bad as it seems. That it will all turn out okay." He took a few steps into the office before halting. "Hang on. Scratch that. Don't say any of those things. I've heard them already and I know that they're lies."

John shrugged and gave an apologetic smile. "Have you found a way to reverse it yet?" After the words were out of his mouth, he realized how stupid he sounded. If Stiles and his friends had already figured it out, his son wouldn't be here looking like someone just told him that Roscoe was being melted for scrap metal. "Let me rephrase that: how close are you to finding a solution?" John amended. Stiles ran a hand through his already mussed hair before bracing his hands against John's desk. "Not very!" He said in a strained tone. "Dad, I can't go to school like this. People won't know what they're doing when they tell me to do something. And I can't tell them because what if someone takes advantage of it! How am I supposed to do this?"

John took pity on his son as he saw how frantic this whole situation was making him. He reached across the desk and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, unknowingly repeating Scott's actions from earlier. "I know you don't want to hear it, but it's going to be okay, Stiles. We'll figure it out."

Stiles looked up at his dad's sincere face. He sighed, forcing himself to relax, and nodded. Everyone was right: it was going to be okay. He gave John a small smile. John smiled back before pulling back and standing up from his chair.

"In the meantime, why don't we go out for some dinner. I'm starving and all we have is eggs."

Stiles snorted, recalling running into that same problem that morning. John patted his pockets in search of his wallet before he remembered that he had set it on his bathroom sink when he had come home earlier. As he switched focus to finding his keys instead, he said, "Stiles, go grab my wallet from my bathroom, please." Then he realized. Even though he had said it politely, he had still given his son a command. He looked up in time to see Stiles' body do an immediate 180˚ and start the trek to the upstairs bathroom. John cringed as he came to the understanding that he was going to have to be a lot more careful on how he phrased his requests from now on. He would have to make sure that Stiles at least had a choice in the matter. "Sorry, Stiles!" He called to his son's retreating back. Stiles threw a thumbs up over his shoulder. "S'okay! I probably would've gone to get it anyways."

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Drop me a review and tell me what you thought! All the love and salad!