Chapter Four, Pissed off any fairies lately?

Stiles didn't sleep in late; instead he crept up to the study and searched for what information he could find on breaking curses. Mostly he got Disney stories and some of Grimm's fairytales. When he added in more details about the curse, like the whole 80's movie werewolf bit, his search pool was so shallow he was looking at Beauty and the Beast.

Which despite everything, seemed to be what this curse was based off of, more or less. In the original story, the Beast used to come to Belle's room every night and get down on one knee and propose. To which she refused, of course. And after that, Belle would dream of a handsome prince asking her why she wouldn't save him, which spurred her curiosity on. Eventually unable to find the prince she thought the Beast was keeping locked up, she grew homesick and he sent her home with a magic ring and a mirror. She had only a week before she was to return, and she went to her sisters and father wearing the rich clothes the Beast had gifted her, and her sisters grew jealous. They used onions to help themselves cry, eventually moving Belle so much she agreed to stay a day longer. When she used her mirror, which unlike Disney's version showed only the Beast and his castle so she could keep an eye on him, she found him half-dead of heartbreak and used her ring to return. The tears of the heartbroken Belle who loved the Beast shattered the curse and he awoke and returned to the handsome prince she had searched for earlier.

A love story through and through.

Different sources cited different reasons for the curse. The Beast had refused a good fairy shelter from the rain; he had mocked a witch; an old hag sought safety and he turned her away; there was a blood feud between two families, resulting in the Beast's unfortunate curse and in an uncontrollable rage he murdered his family. Anger was always an issue, in most of these, it seemed. There was another source saying that the Beast was cursed so he could learn to control his temper better after he struck an innocent down; after he victimized a less-than aesthetically pleasing girl he was turned into a beast so he might learn something from it. Most of the stories seemed to center on a lesson being learned from his transformation. And worse yet, for those suffering the curse too there seemed only two fates left to them –death, should the Beast fail, or returning to their selves if he succeeded.

Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to look much deeper than that, because it didn't seem like love would save Derek Hale. Children's unconditional love and familial love had done nothing, but then that was a hard thing to say about Peter. Whether Derek's uncle had any love or not, especially in regards to his nephew. The guy couldn't even be bothered to show up to dinner –clearly, there was something going on. But either way it wasn't enough. It was hard to speculate on what the cause of a curse could be in a situation like this. It wasn't as though witches or fairies just wandered around. Maybe it was a bit more complicated?

It would be so much easier if Derek could just tell them what he had done and why. Stiles could work with that. Most of the curses focused around that. The Beast had to let someone love him for his exterior as he had been unable to of others; the Beast had to learn hospitality and be a charming host; he had to overcome his anger and deal with his issues. Why couldn't Derek forgive himself –or better yet, why wouldn't he forgive himself? It would be easier, for them. But it must have been a hell of a battle for the guy.

Somehow, Stiles had a hard time believing that Derek was the kind of guy who judged a person solely based on their appearances. In particular, considering the people gathered here. There was no way that was the case. At least, Stiles certainly hoped it wasn't that. Maybe it was the hospitality lesson? No, that wouldn't explain the lesson to be learned by forgiveness. Unless the lesson wasn't about forgiveness, if the lesson was about learning to rely on others… if that was the lesson, then Derek was failing spectacularly.

It didn't exactly explain the cause of it, but maybe the cause wasn't the important part. If you looked at all the stories and wiped out their openings, from the Disney version all the way to the Alliance version… It was a story about a guy with anger issues and manner issues, learning to fall in love with someone. Or having to earn someone's love. As a prince it was a given, as a handsome man attention was given –it wasn't earned per se. Maybe that was more applicable to Derek? Either way at the end of the stories there was near-death, sacrifice and love. Was there any real connection between Derek's curse and these ones though? It seemed almost too far-fetched, but there was truth in every fairytale and myth. There was truth, morality and a lesson all bundled up together and retold over the centuries.

Stiles signed up absently at an online schooling program that everyone seemed to be raving about. He was in the process of downloading some assignments when Derek found him. His mind wasn't focused on what he was doing, even so. He was trying to find a way to bring up the cause of the curse. The cause would give them the reason, the lesson, after all. It was the most direct path to getting an answer and the most logical starting point.

"Breakfast is ready," Derek stated, glancing around the room.

Stiles followed his gaze and realized that the place was quite sparse, aside from the few papers he had printed out. Nothing he thought would be useful. "Kay," he said, swiveling back around to face the laptop.

He had seen his father again this morning. And god, was it nice. The sheriff wasn't worrying his head off, instead taking the day on easily and keeping himself out of trouble. Despite Stiles' worries, the man didn't go for the eggs this morning and instead went for the organic, specially bought cereal. Stiles was almost proud.

"You do know we have books on everything here, right?" Derek asked a touch uncertain. "Peter and Lydia are going through them. You'd be welcome to help."

Stiles stopped to look back at him. "I thought there would have been something online… but there's nothing."

"Well there wouldn't be," Derek said evenly. "If it was that easy we would have broken the curse already."

"So… have you, y'know… pissed off any fairies lately?"

Derek blinked, frowned and then gave Stiles such a glare he was surprised his flesh hadn't melted off with the heat of it. Instead of cowering, Stiles shifted in his swivel chair and flashed an innocent grin at Derek. It was the grin that meant he was up to no-good, but thankfully no one here knew him that well and he could get away with it without raising alarm bells.

"What about witches? I hear they're quite finicky about insults."

Derek's only response was a flat, unimpressed stare.

"That's a no then," Stiles murmured. "Did you kill anyone? Harass their children? Did you forget to offer an elf a cup of tea –because that's quite offensive you know, in their culture, they can do whatever the hell they want if you don't pay them for their work. In one case they even took the guy's head off! A curse like this in comparison to losing a head would b-"

Derek lunged so quickly Stiles didn't even see it coming until the cursed man had his clawed hand around Stiles' neck and shoved him face first against the desk. "Would be nothing in comparison to this," Derek growled out. "At least decapitation is quick."

"Actually it's really not," Stiles volunteered from his uncomfortable position. His heart was pounding. "It could take the executioner three swings to completely sever the head and I don't think that would be pleasant. I wonder how much feeling the prisoner would have in that case, being mostly decapitated but not quite…"

He heard Derek snort and was relieved when the man pulled away. Stiles felt a little queasy, partly because of the intimidation and partly because of the topic at hand but mostly he was still trying to work out exactly what kind of effects there would be on a person who wasn't quite beheaded.

"People nowadays wouldn't be any more skilled at that sort of an execution. I think it was why the guillotine became so popular, because it was a mechanized killing machine that was effective. There was no gory hacking of heads to separate them from traitors or whatever."

Derek stared at him. "I took history class," he said vaguely. "I know."

"You can think of how different the experiences would have been for Ann Boleyn and Marie Antoinette," Stiles continued nonchalantly. "I mean Ann went to death for a made-up rumor about her sleeping with her brother so that King Henry could legitimately marry his mistress –and he had her head chopped off. If it took three hacks from some weak guy like me, well-"

"I know, Stiles," Derek ground out, shooting him an agonized glare. "Believe me I know." He walked away.

Did that mean Derek was a history buff? It was possible, being cooped up here with all these books. Stiles followed after him. There was no way that Derek could actually know about decapitations taking three swipes, not like he would have experience with it. The guy had been cooped up here for like seven years. He probably would have been about Stiles' age at that time and there had never been a recorded decapitation in Beacon Hills. Ever. Stiles would know, what with his father being sheriff and the fact that he had done a rather detailed essay on it for his history class. It might have been a little off-topic but it still won him an A in the end.

Stiles followed Derek back down to the kitchen where Chris was handing off dishes of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast to Isaac who was setting the table. Derek didn't even say anything before Chris was shoveling eggs, bacon and two pieces of toast onto a plate and handing them off without saying a thing. Stiles had a moment of indecision once Derek took his plate and started walking away from the dining room while Chris handed Stiles an identical plate. Chris jerked his head in the way that Derek had gone and Stiles somewhat reluctantly followed after him. He wouldn't have minded getting to know the others. They all knew Derek better than he did, and maybe if they put what information they had together, it might help put Stiles on the right track.

Because there was no way that someone could live with so many people and have them never know anything about him. Chris likely knew his food preferences like the back of his hand; Melissa might know about scars or trauma or something. And who knew what everyone else would know –Peter especially. But Stiles didn't have a relationship with a single person here other than Derek because he had to. Getting to know the others wouldn't hurt him in the slightest.

Derek was standing in the parlor, by the bay window, working his way through a piece of toast. Stiles stopped to stand at the other end of the window, not really wanting to breach the man's personal space. He looked down at his plain, unbuttered toast distastefully. What he would do for some jam, or peanut butter, or something that wasn't just toasted bread. He ate it anyways. As he moved onto eating his scrambled eggs, he hoped that it wasn't a common breakfast because while he didn't mind scrambled eggs he did find them exceptionally boring and they didn't rate high on his list of preferences.

"You don't have to eat out here if you don't want to," Derek said abruptly. "Just because Scott and my uncle won't show their faces if I'm there, doesn't mean you can't get to make friends with them."

"You sayin' I can't be friends with you instead?" Stiles joked.

Derek rolled his eyes. "They're easier to get along with. Once you get to know them."

Stiles shrugged. "I could have a lifetime getting to know them. I've only got three hundred and sixty-two to get to know you."

Derek smirked. "You're counting it out? It'll just get longer."

"So what?" Stiles retorted. "It'll help keep me on my toes."

"Because you need a reminder that if you fail you're stuck here until we die?"

"Will we die when you do?" Stiles asked, observing him.

"I don't know," Derek sighed.

"Didn't the witch or fairy or whoever-the-hell it was tell you anything?"

Derek tensed. "No," he said stiffly. "She didn't say anything."

"So it was a woman," Stiles pressed.

"Just shut up and eat," Derek growled.

"If that's how you're going to end all of our conversations, I'm gonna be as big as a whale when I leave." Because there was no if about it. Stiles would be leaving here at the end of the year.

"Only if you listen," he sniped.

"Are you saying I can't?"

"Well you don't seem to be doing a very good job of it so far."

Stiles rolled his eyes and finished off his bacon quickly. Without another word to the grumpy, obstinate Hale, he pushed off from the wall and returned his plate to the kitchen. For added measure, he washed his own dish as he glanced towards the dining room.

The table that could seat twelve had ten occupied seats. Lydia was sitting beside Allison and across from Peter, meaning the seats at the head of the table and the end of it were empty. The teenagers were laughing at something; Isaac had a humored smirk on his face, gaze lingering on Scott as the other boy stared at Allison. Boyd was chuckling and Erica covered her giggles with her hand as Lydia just smiled on. Peter's attention was between Melissa and Chris, considering they were the only adults at the table. They looked… like a family. An unusual family, perhaps, but a family nonetheless. Lydia seemed the most out of place, but compared to anyone else she was the new girl. Except now with Stiles being here, he was going to take that place –either leaving her with nothing, or pushing her into familial territory with the rest of them.

Stiles left the kitchen as soon as he was finished cleaning, grateful to get out of there. Derek was no where in sight, his dirty plate abandoned on the window sill. For all of one second, Stiles considered taking it and cleaning it before he realized how ridiculous it would be to clean up after the guy. He scoffed –Derek was an adult, he could clean up after himself just fine. The desire to clean it came from several places, one of which was that of being an only child and looking after his father and the other from the respect for the cleanliness of the house. The dirty plate, with its splatters of crumbled eggs and grease stains sitting on the pristine window sill seemed almost offensive.

Stiles walked past it and went back upstairs to the study room. He kept an eye out for the loner that was Derek Hale but he didn't see him. For which he was grateful. Because if there was one thing Stiles knew how to do, it was how to access police files he really shouldn't be able to. Being the son of the sheriff had its benefits. He pulled up all the records his father's office had on Derek Hale.

"Born May third, 1988," Derek said from behind him. "Orphaned in 2003 after mother died unexpectedly, older sister unfit considering she had no job and was barely legal. Dropped out of high school in junior year." His voice was iron hard and cold. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I didn't know you were a Taurus?" Stiles joked weakly, slowly turning to face Derek. "I was actually looking up to see what allergies you had."

His only response was an intense red-eyed glare.

"I was born April eighth, 1996. Which makes me an Aries," he laughed uncomfortably. "Mother died in 2005. Currently attending high school."

Derek frowned, the redness slowly leeching from his eyes.

"If we could have a conversation, like normal people, this would be less awkward," Stiles advised. "I'm not really sorry, I didn't find anything. I invaded your privacy, yes, but it's not like you're forthcoming about anything."

"You could have asked," he growled.

"Would you have told me anything?" Stiles scoffed at Derek's silence. "I didn't think so."