Chapter Eight, Pleas and Villainy

After two days of being ignored, completely iced out by Derek, Stiles camped out in front of his door. A bundle of blankets and his pillow were all he needed. Isaac would grab plates for them –two each of every meal. And while Derek wouldn't get the door for Stiles, when Isaac knocked that first day offering lunch, Derek's door opened wide enough that he could take the food before shutting it again.

Well, today Stiles had a strategic plan all worked out. And Isaac was his unwilling accomplice. Isaac knocked on the door, but Stiles was the one holding the plates this time and when Derek opened the door, Stiles shoved his way inside, the two plates held in front of him. He tripped though, of course and Derek took one plate from him as Stiles proceeded to fall flat on his face, his own apology waffles trapped under his body.

"I don't want to talk to you," Derek said, stepping back towards his bed.

"Why not?" Stiles demanded, sitting up.

"Because I know what you're going to say."

"And what's that?!" Stiles snapped.

"You're just going to say that what I did wasn't my fault –that you forgive me." He scoffed. "I don't want your pity."

"This isn't pity, Derek! This is insanity! You'll drive yourself mad. I get it –you think this is your fault, don't you?"

"Just like she said- if I had –if I had gotten that goddamned key for her this- this would never have happened!"

"It would have! It wouldn't have stopped her! She probably would have killed you too! She just said that to– to screw with you!"

Derek growled, flinging his plate aside. It shattered against the wall, the waffle that was lightly coated in syrup stuck to it. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Stiles stared at him. "Tell me how I don't understand. Tell me. What key detail am I missing here?"

"This is my fault," Derek ground out, slowly, like Stiles was too stupid to understand. "I got my whole family killed because I was too proud to write my mother a letter and ask her for a key."

"Kate would have done whatever it took to get that key! And if her father was so willing to help her, how do you know that what she said is the truth?" Stiles demanded, frustrated.

"This is my fault," Derek reiterated, gesturing angrily to himself and then to Stiles.

"You can still fix it. You're halfway there," Stiles encouraged.

Derek scoffed. "My uncle wouldn't forgive me. He was my best friend, I thought if anyone would understand, it would have been him..."

"Peter's an asshole," Stiles quipped. "Ignore him, Derek. He was angry –you're angry. And he took his anger out on you –he still is."

Derek looked away unhappily.

"You have to know he's being unreasonable. He is your family –he was supposed to understand, he was going to forgive you. That's why you told him. Because if anyone could understand, it would be him. And he would forgive you, and break the curse for the both of you."

Derek cringed.

Stiles continued on. "But it didn't work. Because of his rage and stubbornness and now here we are. You aren't the only victim –Scott's a victim too, everyone here is. Of Kate and what she did to you. She's done it to the rest of us. Scott's like you, tucked away, angry and hurting. I'm the only one here who's fighting her –and how can any of us, even I, how can we fight against her when you won't?"

Derek stared at the wall. Stiles sighed.

"I forgive you. I forgave you three nights ago. And if you tell anyone else, they'll forgive you too. But stop holding it against yourself. You didn't know and you can't control the outcome." Stiles paused, felt a chill wash over him. It had been so long since he last heard those words himself, coming from a therapist what felt like a lifetime ago. "You didn't ask for the key because it was unimportant, it could wait a few days. And if her intentions hadn't been nefarious, it could have waited, couldn't it? For logical, rational people, two days wouldn't have made a difference.

"When you didn't ask for the key, you made that decision not knowing what was going to happen. Now you can't go back, you can't change it. You couldn't control it then and you can't change it now –you were not the one who chose to light the house on fire. You can't control the consequences of anyone's actions; you can't control what they choose…" Stiles paused again, biting back the anguish that threatened to consume him. "Trust me, Derek," he pleaded, "it wasn't your fault."

The memory slammed into him abruptly, and with it came a panic attack –the ones he used to get as a child.

The sickening crunch of metal on metal, the panicked cry of his mother, something wet and sticky getting in his hair, blocking vision in one eye –the frantic hands, digging at the seatbelt that restrained him –that metallic screech as metal scraped against metal –the smell of roasting meat, tantalizing, promising –and then the silence.

Derek didn't know what to do, so he did the first thing he thought of. He slammed his door open bellowed for Melissa. One minute, Stiles had been fine. The next he was hyperventilating, dropping to his knees, tears in his eyes and gasping so shallowly for a breath that never came that he passed out as abruptly as he had collapsed. Derek didn't know what to do –he was helpless to do anything at all.

Melissa came running. Isaac and Chris were both hot on her heels. Derek recounted every symptom Stiles had exhibited as she knelt beside the teen and took his pulse. Icy cold fear clenched his heart.

It would serve you right, came Kate's voice, ringing in his ears, the first person to forgive you, dies trying to convince you to forgive yourself. Now that's justice, Derek.

Melissa exhaled in relief. "He's just fainted. He'll be fine." She waved Isaac and Chris off before turning to Derek.

"He just…" Derek gestured feebly, too stunned to say anything else as he watched Stiles' chest rise and fall.

Melissa's gaze softened. "He's going to be fine, Derek." She paused. "Now can you tell me what happened?"

"He was… talking to me. And then he started gasping and kind of clawing at his chest before stumbling to his knees. And I tried to grab him but he shoved at me –and then, h-he fell. And passed out…"

Melissa frowned but nodded, watching Stiles. It was another moment before Stiles gave a weak groan, his eyes flashing open before he jerked upright. He looked around, catching sight of Derek and Melissa.

"Shoot… sorry, about… that." He laughed breathily.

"Stiles," Melissa ordered brusquely.

He cringed. "Yes Mrs. McCall?"

"We need to talk about what just happened."

Stiles sighed, glancing at Derek shiftily. "I had a panic attack, that's all. It's been… years, since I last had one."

Derek watched him closely, as Melissa checked his vitals and spoke more to him about the panic attack. Stiles completely evaded mentioning the cause of it, instead he talked about how he was going to be fine. Eventually, she gave up and left him to his own devices.

Stiles inhaled sharply, turning to look at Derek. "You can't ignore me forever. I won't put up with it. I…" He paused, frowning. "Look, I know it's not easy. But… I think maybe, you should think about telling someone."

"Like I told Peter?" he asked bitterly.

"No, someone you get along with. Isaac, maybe. Or even Mrs. McCall. Please Derek."

"No." He didn't need to tell anyone, he knew how they would react. Disgust and rage. It was nothing less than what he deserved.

"Derek," Stiles pleased, his voice cracking. "Derek please. Trust me?"

Derek stiffened. "Last time you asked me to trust you, I was psychologically raped."

Stiles flinched.

"So no, I don't think I'm going to trust you. And I don't believe you –I don't have to believe you, either." Derek turned to go back to his room.

"Fine then!" Stiles shouted. "Go sulk, be a broody little kid! You're not helping anyone this way!"

Derek whirled back around, snarling as he flashed his red eyes at Stiles. He smirked, sensing the fear radiating off him in waves. "Maybe… I don't want to help anyone."

Stiles gaped, dumbfounded. "You'd – you'd sentence us all to death? For your pride?"

"It doesn't matter. We're all dead anyways." He let the red bleed from his eyes, taking a step back into his room. It wouldn't do to show Stiles his back, to give him some sign of vulnerability. The kid was too full of ideas already at this point.

Stiles glared at him, amber eyes narrowed dangerously. "I will not die because of your idiocy or pride."

"You can't make me forgive myself." No one could. It wasn't something that was forgivable, in any shape or form.

"No," Stiles agreed, "I can't make you." There was an undercurrent to his words, that even though Stiles was acknowledging Derek's power in this, he still had every intention of having Derek's compliance. Whether Derek wanted it or not.

So I got writer's block over the summer.

And then school started.

I currently have about 5-7 assignments due next week, one of which was due last week.

And after this I have another 7 assignments to go.

I'm a little stressed out. Stressed out helps me write, also prevents me from writing it. Because I shouldn't be writing, I need to be doing homework.

So this is my apology and promise that more will come, I just need some time.