Chapter Three, A Prideful Plea

As soon as a guest had set foot onto cursed Hale land, they had to stay for a year unless they had a blood relative that they could switch places with. Those three hundred and sixty-five days meant that they would be untouched by the physical effects of the curse. Leaving the grounds was forbidden to all of them, except for Chris, because the curse kept them on Hale property. A barrier would keep all of them inside, except for those affected by the curse. It was how Chris kept them stocked with food and how he had been able to send the Sheriff back home. Derek watched from the parlor window as Stiles glanced furtively around before setting off for the barrier, no doubt to test what Isaac and Allison had spent all morning explaining. Derek looked over at the laptop his uncle had set up a few years ago, one that Chris had bought at his request -not to mention the wireless that he had installed by himself. Derek left it available in the parlor for everyone in the house, so they could follow their loved ones and make sure they were okay. No doubt Stiles would want to know how his father was doing. Lydia, Erica and Boyd had all been the same when the curse changed them.

Derek would give Stiles what time he needed for himself, sitting down in the parlor and listening. He knew better than to give Stiles no attention or to dote on him. He had learned as Isaac and Allison grew up with their insecure and bitter jealousies that it wouldn't be fair of him to wait on Stiles. During Isaac's first year at Hale manor, he had felt like he was needed and important and could make the difference in Derek's life. But Isaac was twelve when their next guest joined them, and while Derek hadn't meant to, he had been desperate to save them all from this and spent more and more time with Erica, determined to make up for mistakes with Scott.

Instead he made it worse. Isaac started acting out, refused to talk to him while Scott withdrew into his shell. He would have gone crazy if it weren't for Chris and Melissa, both of them pulling Scott from his shell and calming Isaac down long enough that Derek could explain to him and apologize for his actions. He was never very good at apologies, but one look at Isaac's scrunched up angry face was more than enough guilt to add on. He failed his family first, and now, for seven years in a row he had failed those stuck living with him.

"You know, I think the worst part of your plan was the children," Peter drawled from the entryway. "They're too concerned with themselves to care, Derek. And teenagers are worse."

Derek grit his teeth. "I didn't ask for this Peter," he bit out roughly.

"It's a curse for a reason," Peter pressed. "And the only thing you ever say is that you didn't ask for it -but what was it that you did, to get cursed?"

"I'm not talking about this."

"Which is why we're still here," his uncle hissed. "You won't talk about it, you won't admit that there's anything that needs to be forgiven –news flash Derek, we're here because of you!"

"We'll find a way out of this mess," Derek countered smoothly, pretending his uncle hadn't said anything. "I'll fix it."

"You can't," Peter sneered. "It's why you dragged me here; it's why everyone else got involved in your mess. Because you can't fix it. If you could, you would have. So thanks for trying, but this is all on you."

And you'll never let me forget it. Derek sighed, turning away. "Thanks for the reminder uncle," he murmured softly.

Peter swore and walked out. He didn't waste his breath and for that Derek was grateful. Although it didn't mean the man went out of his way to spare shoving knives into his back. Their first year trapped in here had been interesting, of course. Especially when Peter got the knives out. He wanted to know what trouble his nephew had gotten into. He wanted to know why he was stuck in here and why Derek had brought him into this mess.

A small part of Derek had thought that it would be easier to tell family. That Peter would understand. He could never get the words out. And Peter would never forgive him for it either. Derek listened as Peter's footsteps faded away before sighing and moving over to the bookshelves. There were so many books here, they were limitless. He brushed his fingers along their spines; desperately wanting to read them but unsure if he should even try. Sometimes he missed reading.

And then he would remember the way Scott glared at him, the hatred and bitterness in his eyes whenever he looked at Derek. His guilt flickered back to life, a flame that couldn't be doused, and he glanced towards the door just as Stiles crept in. The teenager cast a furtive glance around before seeming to relax, exhaling. Derek smirked to himself and soundlessly walked to the parlor door before matching Stiles step for step.

"Find what you were looking for?" he inquired, eyes dancing.

Stiles jumped with a startled yelp, whirling to face him, brown eyes blown wide and his heart rate sky rocketing. Derek chuckled. He would take what amusement he could get, when he could get it.

"You can't just do that to a guy!" Stiles gasped out, inhaling a lungful of air. "Jesus Christ! You almost gave me a heart attack."

"We have a nurse and a defibrillator, no need to worry."

"Says the real-life Beast," Stiles snarked, shooting a glare at him. "You've got like, a hundred pounds on me, easy. I can't scare you –and where the hell did you come from anyways?"

Derek indicated the parlor, ignoring Stiles' jibe. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"You mean a fat lot of nothing?" He sighed. "Then yes, I found exactly that."

"I know Isaac talked to you," Derek prodded.

"And I'm not going to screw this up for everyone, if that's what you mean," Stiles added. "I'll…" he shrugged. "I'll do what I can."

"Can't ask for more than that," Derek responded cautiously.

"Will I get to meet everyone?"

"Why?"

"It seems… appropriate." Stiles frowned. "I mean, since I'm the one that'll be saving all your asses. I think I should start with the special treatment."

"Oh, ha-ha." Derek rolled his eyes.

Stiles grinned, "Royal treatment even, you know? King sized bed, big fancy breakfast served to me by the hottest, a backrub whenever I want…"

"You're like sixteen, why do you want a backrub?" Derek interrupted. "And I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"What do you mean?"

It was Derek's turn to shrug. "We tend to avoid meeting all together. It helps prevents fights."

"Fights?"

"Not everyone is quite so… well adjusted," he offered.

Scott, for instance was a great example of that. Melissa had done better at adapting to their circumstances than Scott. She was here voluntarily, just as Chris was to keep an eye on their children. Erica had her moments; usually she was pretty fine about the situation, but sometimes she would fluctuate to an extreme that resulted in requiring both Isaac and Boyd to restrain her. Isaac and Allison were doing the best. Peter kept to the library where the others would eventually drift off to help him. Lydia especially. It was hard to pinpoint how she was doing with the situation, whether she was in denial or acceptance considering the fact that she spent more time with Peter than anyone else. Derek rarely saw her.

But everyone contributed something to this shell of a house they lived in. Melissa tended wounds and helped Boyd, while Lydia and Erica managed with fashion and mending clothes. Chris had gotten a wireless router installed for them a few years back, something that had earned him the pack's loyalty. Derek didn't mind. He especially didn't mind when he felt the tension ease out of the house and at first he had been suspicious and worried, until he caught them watching their family members. It had something to do with the curse, Derek knew, but when they opened their laptops they would have five minutes of undisturbed viewing of whoever they wanted to see. Of their family. It used to happen occasionally with the mirrors in the house, but they were never reliable enough.

Scott spent over a month, sitting in front of one of the mirrors and never moving as he desperately tried to recreate the requirements to see his father again. Melissa had managed to coax him away from it. It would do Stiles wonders to see his father, to know that Derek hadn't been lying. It had helped Lydia at any rate, when she first arrived.

"Lydia's here, right?" Stiles asked cautiously. "I remember you mentioned her name…"

"She's here," Derek replied. "You can see her, if you can find her. I think she's in the library. Probably with Peter…"

Stiles frowned, his brows wrinkled in confusion. "That old guy…? They're looking for a way to break the curse, right?"

"Lydia and I are not on speaking terms," Derek clarified with a quiet growl. "Ask her when you see her, if you want to know so badly. In the meantime, we have things to do." He walked away.

For a minute, he wasn't sure Stiles was going to follow but then he did. For which he was grateful. He led him to his own study room, on the second floor. Derek could sense Peter further in the archives, his concentration was intense; with him was Lydia, as Derek had guessed. He didn't tell Stiles. Instead he pushed the boy into the chair before he could protest. Stiles turned to the laptop, lifting the screen and Derek moved away to give him some measure of privacy as his father's image appeared.

"H-how-?"

"It just happens," Derek replied quietly. "Watch."

Silence fell between them. Another unique effect of the magic that came with the laptops was that sound was only available to the one seeking the image. Whatever sound there was, if there was any, was given to Stiles. He heard the teenager sniffle but he made no move to comfort him as the chair squeaked and Stiles scrubbed at his eyes.

"How… I mean, he really… he really thinks that I'm staying with a relative. I saw him. I saw him tell that to Johnson. It was just like, like we had planned it or something. He found me looking for him and shipped me off to my great-aunt in Minnesota for the year, because I had better schooling options. It's… almost like he doesn't care."

"He's not worried," Derek explained. "He believes it. He doesn't know who the relative is or how to contact you; he'll fill in the blanks himself. They always do."

Stiles laughed sadly. "He'll probably think that I'm staying with my Aunt Mildred, and she's like the biggest technophobe of the century. She only writes us letters and she doesn't even have a TV in her house."

Derek watched Stiles closely, the redness around his eyes visible as the teenager swallowed tightly before meeting Derek's gaze. "But it's better. I mean, he isn't worried…"

"And he won't."

"What happens if I don't break the curse?" Stiles asked quietly. "What happens when I don't come home when he expects me to?"

"Then you'll be another missing person."

"No I won't," Stiles said confidently. "If it takes me three hundred and sixty-three days, I will break the curse on you. On everyone stuck here. And then I'm going home."

If optimism was his coping mechanism, Derek would let him have it. Everyone had it before, except for Lydia. She had accepted her fate as soon as she was told and she bypassed all their expectations by practically moving into the library and archives and researching for all she was worth. Her presence, like Melissa's, was good for Allison. She got along better with the red-head than she ever did with Erica.

Dinner was an interesting affair, Stiles was quick to learn. Interesting in that it was absolutely terrifying. The dining room was huge, and despite having a table that could seat twelve there was still excess space. A lot of it. When he was summoned down after taking a few hours of privacy to start researching on what he could find out about the curse, introductions were given rather haphazardly. It was a blur mostly, of a lot of people. But there were two faces he didn't see –Peter, for which he was grateful, and Lydia. And he wasn't sure how to feel about that. Did she know he was here? He would love to see her, just to know that she was okay.

He had known of Erica, more than knowing her on a personal level. They had gym class together. He didn't know her that well though, but he still went out to help look for her around the preserve. Her parents were worried about her. The Erica he met hardly resembled the old her, with her neatly kept hair and the whole lycanthropy vibe he was getting from her. Her grin was deadly and her eyes were teasing. Boyd, on the other hand, he had known somewhat. When he needed a favor or two, Boyd was there. Boyd looked the same, mostly. A little more muscular.

Okay, maybe a lot more muscular than he remembered when he last saw him.

But they weren't Lydia. Lydia he had known since childhood and it would have been great to have some assurance that she was alright. He didn't exactly trust Derek's judgment and he was pretty sure that no one could fault him for it either. He would get to the bottom of this mystery though and they would all be home free within the next three hundred and sixty-three days. Stiles was not spending more than a year here and no one deserved this anyways. Not even Derek, whatever it is that he could have done. And seriously, how did the guy find someone in the twenty-first century who could even cast a real, bona-fide curse?

Stiles had gone out this morning to check the boundary that Isaac had mentioned in passing. It kept them from leaving. It was a physical thing that repelled him from leaving, and it only stung worse the more he tried. Chris and Melissa were the only ones who could leave –they kept the place full of food and maintained the bills. With Derek's money, as was fully appropriate.

But back to the task at hand, which was the terrifying mess that was dinner. Stiles stumbled into the room only to realize he was about the last to arrive and everyone was starting to sit down. He could see Erica watching his every move and he could see the curiosity in Boyd's eyes. It was Allison who waved him over to an empty seat beside her and Isaac that he gratefully took. There were three empty seats and only two faces he didn't recognize –the middle aged with black, curly hair had to be Melissa, Scott's mother, and the teenaged boy with a sullen puppy dog pout on his face had to be Scott. And judging by Allison's sweet smile at him, he was right. Isaac had filled him in on a couple of details, when he wandered into the study upstairs. Mainly that Scott and Allison sort of had a thing going on. Chris didn't approve of it and Derek kept his nose as far from them as he could.

The meal was extravagant, Stiles realized as he looked at the dishes before him. It seemed to be a roast that was just falling apart as everyone cut into it. There were mashed potatoes with gravy creatively drizzled over them and the garnish had been artfully added. It smelled delicious and tasted even better.

"Dad has a lot of time on his hands," Allison explained with a laugh.

"He spends more time cooking than doing anything else," Isaac added. "He's the best."

Stiles flashed their chef a grin. "It's great sir," he told him enthusiastically. There was just something about Chris Argent that demanded respect and from the way he looked at Stiles, adding 'sir' had been the correct thing to do.

"So how old are you, Stiles?" Melissa asked. They were seated directly across from each other.

"Seventeen."

"Same age as me," Scott said, flashing a dopey smile at him.

Stiles smiled back.

"You'll have to pick up the online courses too then," Chris added, cutting his roast into smaller pieces. "Like Scott, Erica and Boyd are."

Stiles glanced at Allison. "I graduated early, with Lydia and Isaac," she clarified.

"We got them fake IDs," Melissa added. "Do you need one?"

"Nah, I'll be good for the year. My dad thinks I'm with my aunt." Stiles shrugged. "School stuff."

"Well… that was nice of Derek," Melissa said, attempting to keep the atmosphere light.

It didn't work. Scott scowled and turned away, eyeing his plate like he was giving serious consideration to not eating. Allison and Melissa both shot him a glower, and he wasn't oblivious enough to not realize it as he picked his fork back up and took an inelegant bite of the roast. Chris's frown, however, did go unnoticed and ignored. Stiles hid a smile.

He was almost finished his dinner before Derek walked into the room. And everything suddenly seemed different. Isaac sat straight up in his chair and smiled brighter, more genuinely; Erica also sat up, but casually in such a way to make her cleavage more noticeable while Scott scowled and pushed his barely touched plate away. He got up despite his mother's protest, grabbed his plate and stalked away, the slamming of a door echoing behind him as Derek took a seat at the head of the table, two empty chairs occupying the space there. Somehow, Stiles doubted that either Lydia or Peter would have willingly sat there with Derek.

Stiles peered down the length of the table to see Derek sigh and give an apologetic smile at Scott's mother.

"It's not your fault," she sighed. "Scott's just… having a rough time." She finished her plate quickly before leaving the room, Chris following not long after.

Allison frowned at her mostly empty plate before turning to Derek. "It took days to convince him to come up here again. You could have waited five minutes longer."

She didn't even apologize as she got up and left. Isaac sighed to himself and Boyd shook his head, taking seconds. Feeling more cautious than before, Stiles ate a bit slower so he could have longer to observe what the hell was going on with these guys.

"So Derek," Erica all but purred.

"Yes?" he asked, and Stiles would almost swear he was being cautious about it even as he stabbed two pieces of roast onto his plate.

Isaac hid a smirk, downing his glass of ginger ale before polishing off his plate. Even Boyd seemed to be hiding a smile.

"How come you haven't sent Stiles up yet?" She glanced over at him with a flirty grin. "I mean it's a shame. That beat up old hoodie, and those stained jeans. Honestly."

Derek smiled tightly. "I was going to get around to it Erica."

Stiles felt decidedly uncomfortable when Erica looked him over head-to-toe. "We should get to it then, Stilinski," she said brightly as she got up. "You're looking a little underdressed."

"Good luck," Isaac offered under his breath.

Stiles didn't have a chance to even reply as Erica was literally pulling him from his spot and his unfinished meal and dragging him upstairs to a workroom he had missed. It was full of fabrics, a sewing machine with a bunch of needles and thread lying on the table with some shirts. Erica pulled out the measuring tape and got to work. Under different circumstances it might not have been quite so uncomfortable, but Erica seemed to thrive on that and did everything she could to make it more awkward. Because really, Stiles didn't know that it was necessary to get measurements that close as she wrapped the tape around his waist, her hand a little too close for comfort as he tried to shift only to be reprimanded by her.

It was a long two hours. She drew out the measuring process and then spent the rest of the time shooting down every fashion preference he had. Except for jeans. He was allowed to keep his jeans. But she vetoed the plaid ideas, and most of the hoodies and then she disregarded everything he said and picked out what she thought would look the best. To his displeasure. There was nothing wrong with plaid and Stiles happened to be able to pull it off very well. At least as far as he knew, no one had told him otherwise. He was gonna miss his plaid. Erica had at least let him keep a hoodie and the t-shirts hopefully wouldn't be too bad. He sighed.

She was nice enough to at least walk him back to his own room, for which he was grateful. He probably would have gotten lost. It was a big house and most of the rooms looked the same, his included. The canopy bed should have given it away, but he was exhausted with the day's events. He flopped onto the bed, frowning a little at how he almost sank into it before it recovered and then he promptly fell asleep. Those two hours sure as hell felt a lot longer than two hours.

He woke up slowly, groggy with sleep and the darkness that had draped itself over him during the night. He blinked blearily at the glowing alarm clock, the bright red numbers reading out that it was well after midnight. He stifled a groan, rolling over and promptly flailed himself right out of bed with a hoarse shout of alarm.

"Shit, Stiles," Derek cursed, walking around the bed. "You okay?"

Stiles groaned in response, getting up and ignoring the ache in his tailbone. "Fuck you Derek. What the hell are you doing here? In my bedroom. In the middle of the night." He shot him a glower as he gingerly sat down on his bed.

"It's my house," Derek retorted, but it seemed more of an automatic response than anything else. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said, in lieu of an apology. "I didn't think you'd be asleep."

Stiles sighed. "So you just walked in here and stared at me all creepishly? What do you want?"

To his shock and horror (and if he was being honest, to his small delusional joy) Derek got down on his knees and bowed his head. He took a deep breath before turning to look up at Stiles –and he was amazed to see that the lycanthropic changes were gone from his features –he was totally human. And he was gorgeous. Stiles almost reached out to him, sleepy and lethargic, Derek caught his hand with his own.

"Would you forgive me?"

Derek's eyes were a mix of blue and grey, maybe a little green, it was hard to tell in the darkness with only a sliver of moonlight to see with. There was sincerity in his eyes and hesitance in his features. He seemed strangely vulnerable.

Stiles couldn't stop looking at the very human man before him. "For what?" he asked, almost reluctantly.

It was instantaneous. Derek's hands turned from normal to clawed and hairy, his eyes glowed and flashed red once more as his wolfish fangs and facial hair changed into the lycanthropic features he was used to. Derek jerked away quickly.

"I'm not going to talk about it," Derek said gruffly, getting back to his feet quickly.

Stiles stared after him as he walked out of his room. "You couldn't ask when I'm actually awake?" he grumbled, lying back on his bed.

He hadn't expected that. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but somehow it wasn't that.

It wouldn't occur to him until he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, as Allison's voice washed through his mind. "But from midnight until ten, we can be human. Everyone here except for Derek that is."

I had some troubles putting this chapter together. I hope you like it. :)

Thanks so much for all the feedback and I look forward to hearing from you