3 months after the events of 'A hunt in Beacon Hills'

John

He didn't mean to slam his plate down quite so hard onto the sideboard, "I'm listening!" He shouted back, anger colouring his voice. "I've been listening!" He shouted again, now scraping his left over breakfast back onto his plate after splattering it all over the counter.

"You just don't believe me." Stiles said from behind him.

Their argument from years before was coming back to haunt him, what had Stiles said at the time? 'mum would have believed me' his words echoed in the Sheriff's ears as if Stiles had only just spoken them. When John turned around from the sink he glimpsed the hurt on Stiles face, the same shock on his face as years before, he eyes going comically wide, his mouth open and unable to process that his dad didn't believe him yet again. John was about to apologize, say that he was sorry, he didn't mean to shout, he just didn't want it to be true, but before he could say any of this Stiles turned away from him and left through the front door slamming it behind him.

John sunk into his chair at the kitchen table, scrubbed his hand across his face, weariness washing over him. He was so tired, and there was so much going on in Beacon Hills at the moment. Still, he sighed, he shouldn't have just dismissed Stiles out of hand like that. Stiles was usually right about these things, John shuddered when he thought of all the times Stiles had been right over the years, all of the times he'd just tuned him out, ignored him, shouted out him, told him he was wrong, only to find out every time that Stiles was right. This newest issue would probably turn out to be right too, John just didn't want to admit it, he couldn't handle it on top of everything else. He finished off his cup of luke warm coffee, grabbed his car keys and headed to the station.

It was a gloomy day, the sky overcast, one of those days where you thought it was never going to get properly light, there were spatterings of rain across the town and John drove in silence processing everything Stiles had said, it made sense, he didn't want it to make sense. He pulled up outside the station, slamming his hand hard into the steering wheel, "Damn it." He cursed, shaking his head in despair. He got out of his car, feeling every one of his years, walking into the office knowing that it was going to be a long day. He looked at the pile of files on his desk, so many, too many. He thanked Deputy Miller as she handed him another cup of coffee,

"You look like you need it." She said taking in his weary expression.

He sunk down into his seat, "We have any new leads?" He asked looking at the files, Deputy Miller followed his lead, taking a seat opposite the Sheriff, she shook her head sadly, a few blonde tendrils coming loose from where she had tied it up quickly earlier on. John sighed again, he wished she hadn't said that, wished she'd had good news, but it wasn't the kids fault, this one was just too big, and John had a sinking feeling that it was only going to get bigger before the end.

He looked at the sad expression on her face, she was taking this one too personally, but hell, so was he. "Why don't you get off home Claire? I'll let you know if we get any further developments." She'd been practically living here the past week, only going home to grab the occassional sleep and shower, getting back to the station as quickly as she could to carry on the case. She was a nice looking kid, John thought, innocent looking except for her big blue eyes, they loked haunted. She was much too young to have that look in her eyes. She'd only come to Beacon Hills a month ago and she'd already been such an asset to the team, but she looked like she was wearing herself out, she looked exhausted.

"I'm fine Sir." She said respectfully, "I need to help with this, you know how much I need to solve this." John nodded, he did understand, the pit of dread in his stomach told him how much he understood, how personal this had become for all of them.

"Okay, well, then I guess, you need to add two more names to the list."

She looked up from the files that were currently resting on her knees, "Who?" She asked, her voice only shaking slightly. The Sheriff took a deep breath before replying, knowing that as soon as he said it that would be it, it would make it true.

"My nephews." He paused, "Dean and Sam Winchester."

Stiles

Stiles slammed the door shut quickly behind him, breathing heavily. He had to get out of there before he'd said something he'd regret. He knew that his dad was trying to be rational, just because Sam and Dean hadn't been in touch in a couple of days didn't mean they were missing. But Stiles knew that wasn't the case. Ever since he'd found out he had two amazing kick ass cousins he'd been in touch with them almost constantly. They'd stayed with him for a while after the whole Donovan thing, helped him fix his jeep up. They'd left a few weeks later, a hunt in the next state, they'd come back to visit a few times since, but they always called Stiles, at least once a day, if not then every other day, just to let him know how they were getting on with the search for their dad. Stiles had spoken to Dean a couple of days ago, he'd told him how they'd found their dad, he was alive, he was just keeping his distance because he didn't want the demon to go after them. Stiles had thought it sounded like bullshit, what kind of father left his kids like that? Knowing that they were throwing themselves into danger all the time? Okay so maybe he ran around with werewolves and his dad wasn't there all the time, but that was different, he had a whole pack around him, Sam and Dean? Well, they only had each other.

Stiles threw his bag into his jeep and reversed quickly off the drive before his dad could come out, he didn't want to talk to him right now. He could understand his dad was having a hard time at the moment, over twenty people going missing in the last three weeks never to be seen again. Of course that was a big deal, but why didn't he believe him when Stiles said that Sam and Dean were missing too?

Dean had sounded calm on the phone, like some of the tension had eased out of him, Stiles and him had joked around for a while, Sam shouting out his input from the background. Dean had told him about their latest hunt with creatures called daeva's, Stiles shuddered, they sounded awful. Dean had said that they'd managed to get away with only a few cuts, Stiles grimaced, he knew what Dean was like and a few cuts usually meant just short of having to amputate a limb. Dean had wanted to know how his dad was going on with the missing people case, "Not well, there's no leads, no bodies, I've asked the pack to see if they can track any of them but they can't." Stiles said heavily, explaining that the only lead he had been able to find was a link to some locked website that you needed a password to access, he'd passed it across to his dad and he currently had people trying to break the password, but nothing had come from it yet.

"You want a hand?" Sam shouted out in the background, Stiles shrugged, then realized that they wouldn't be able to see him.

"I'm sure we can figure it out, you sound like you've got a lot going on." He said, although it would be so good to see his cousins again.

"It's cool." Dean said, forgetting instantly about any other possible hunts they had lined up, "We're not far away, we can be there in a day or two, we can come look it over, see if we can spot something you don't."

Stiles grinned, feeling relief that finally there was help coming, "You sure?" he asked, unable to keep the relief and emotion from his voice, Dean huffed down the phone.

"Alright, don't go all chick flick on me, I've got enough of that with Sammy."

Stiles laughed, "Fine with me, so you don't want me to record Dr Sexy MD for you?" He could practically feel Dean glaring down the phone at him.

"You best had do, if you don't then no deal." Dean said quietly, but obviously not quietly enough to stop Sam from hearing him, as Stiles could hear him howling with laughter in the background. "Alright kid, we'll see you in a couple of days." Stiles ended the call, a grin on his face, they would figure this out together. Except that was four days ago and there was still no sign of them and he couldn't get hold of them. He knew something was wrong.

He pulled up outsides Scott's house, still trying to shake the feeling of rejection from his father. He let himself in and strolled into the kitchen, "Scott?" He called out, Scott appeared with Liam trailing behind him.

"Hey." Scott said in greeting, he looked agitated, like there was something else on his mind.

"You okay?" Stiles asked when he already knew that he wasn't.

"I'm fine, totally fine." Scott replied.

"Okay, well that's good, I need to talk to you about something important…" Stiles started, stopping when he noticed Scott glance at Liam.

"Look, Stiles, we've got to go, we've got plans to go do some stuff." Scott said suddenly, Stiles looked at the confusion on Liam's face.

"Really? What kind of plans?" He knew Scott was lying to him, it kind of felt nice to watch him squirm.

"Well, you know, erm, stuff." Scott said, lying was really not his forte.

Liam cleared his throat, "We're meeting Malia and Lydia at the mall, we said we'd hang out today." Stiles felt his heart start to beat faster.

"Oh, right, cool, you want me to drive?" Stiles asked already knowing what the answer would be.

"No, it's fine, it's just kind of going to be the four of us actually." Scott said, feeling like the worst friend in the world after seeing the look on Stiles' face.

"Oh." He said simply, "Well, yeah, sure, that's fine." Suddenly not wanting to trouble Scott with Dean and Sam's disappearance, he obviously had other things on his mind.

"I'm not stupid you know." He found himself saying, never planning on the words leaving his mouth. "I know you guys aren't going to the mall. I know it's some pack thing. I just don't get why you don't trust me with it?" He asked finally looking at Scott's stricken face.

"Stiles…" Scott began listening to the way Stiles heart was pounding in his chest, "Look, it's just…" He paused, how could he say this without hurting Stiles? "Look, we're dealing with something at the moment, and I don't want you to get hurt, or for anyone else to take their eyes off the ball looking out for you."

Stiles felt like he'd been punched in the gut, he could argue with Scott all day about him getting hurt, that it wasn't a big deal; that he always picked himself up and got on with it. But he couldn't risk anyone else, he couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt because of him, and Scott knew that. He knew how guilty Stiles would feel if anyone got hurt because of him. Stiles nodded, blinking rapidly trying to try to stop his eyes feeling with tears, stop his throat from constricting tightly, "Sure. I get it." He nodded unable to look Scott in the eyes, he turned away from him and left the house, jumping quickly into his jeep and driving away even though he could hear Scott calling after him.

Scott

Scott had despised himself the second that the words left his mouth, he knew how they would sound to Stiles, that despite the fact it was over two years ago, Allison had died because of the Nogitsune, and he knew that Stiles still felt guilt over that, despite the fact it wasn't him, that thing still wore his face, and then Donovan, okay so Stiles hadn't killed him, but he thought he had. Stiles carried around so much guilt, for things that just weren't his fault. Scott didn't want to use that, didn't want to make Stiles feel anymore guilty, but he had to protect him, and Stiles didn't seem to be very good at protecting himself. He was always throwing himself into dangerous situations because Scott was there, or Malia, or Liam, or Lydia, or anyone actually, Scott thought. Stiles would protect anyone he thought needed it, even at his own expense, and Scott couldn't deal with that anymore, he couldn't watch his friend get hurt time and time again and not be able to do anything other than take a little bit of his pain away. Stiles didn't heal like them, or run as fast as them, he wasn't as strong as them or powerful. He was human.

Still, he wasn't prepared for the look on Stiles' face, wasn't prepared to feel like the crappiest friend in the world knowing that he'd put that look there. Even knowing that he was doing it for Stiles own good; he still hated himself in that moment. "Stiles, wait." He called as Stiles practically ran out of the door. He got outside in time to see the jeep tearing off down the street, he sighed heavily, holding his head in his hands, how could he have said that? He was just trying to protect Stiles, how did he end up feeling like a piece of shit? Liam cleared his throat behind him.

"I know this isn't a good time Scott, but we've still got to deal with…" Liam trailed off but Scott knew what he was referring to, the other pack of wolves that seemed intent on moving into Beacon Hills, the other pack of wolves who definitely weren't able to control themselves, or maybe they could and just chose not to. Scott wasn't sure what they had planned yet, but he knew it only spelled trouble for him and his pack.

"Come on," Scott said waving to Liam, "We best get going, Malia and Lydia will be waiting for us."

Stiles

He wasn't sure where he was driving to, he had just driven his jeep out of town and kept driving. There were so many thoughts racing through his head, Sam and Dean, where the hell were they? Were they okay? His dad's face as he yelled at him that morning, once again not listening to him. Scott, not even wanting him around for fear of him causing someone to get hurt. Allison, Donovan, his mum. All the times he'd let people down by lying to them, or not being there for them, or causing them to get hurt. "Argh!" He screamed out hitting the steering wheel repeatedly, swiping at the tears in his eyes. He felt so useless, so weak.

He thought back to the way that the pack had been treating him recently, how things were still sort of tense with Malia, because he was her anchor, but they were both hurting and so it made it hard to be around each other. He thought about how Lydia had been funny with him recently, the times she'd hung up on him when he called, as if anything he had to say just wasn't important enough for her anymore. Not that it ever had been. The only people who seemed to want to talk to him were Sam and Dean, and most of the town they were somewhere else in the country. Hell, even Derek, Cora, Jackson, Isaac and Chris had left him. Although he didn't blame Chris in the slightest, after all it was because of Stiles that Allison was dead. But the others, maybe it wasn't just to get away from him, maybe there were other reasons, but he was feeling sorry for himself. He was beginning to think that none of the pack wanted him around, after all he wasn't anything special. Just the one that usually got himself kidnapped, or beaten up, or possessed.

He must have been driving two hours, just speeding out of town along the road, no idea where he was heading, just anything to get away from the complete and utter failure that he felt. No wonder Scott didn't want him around, all he managed to do was get himself hurt or kidnapped, or held hostage. He never did anything to help them, okay, so maybe he came up with plans, but most of the time they went wrong. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, he felt like he couldn't breathe, the same thoughts racing over and over, Sam and Dean were missing, nobody believed him, he was unable to help them, or any of the other missing people. He felt sick, breathing was getting harder, he knew this was the start of a panic attack. He pulled over into a conveniently located diner, parked quickly in a space and then rested his head against the steering wheel, trying to calm his breathing.

It was almost half an hour later when he was finally calm enough to look up from the wheel, "Okay." He said calmly to himself, "Alright Stiles, you might not be fast, or strong, or have wolf healing, but you are still awesome. And it's not going to solve anything sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. So go home, look at the board, figure this out. You can do it." He said, trying to encourage himself to do just that, who cared if he needed to talk to himself to achieve it? He nodded firmly, starting up the engine and glancing in the rear view mirror before pulling out of the car park, "What the hell?" He said quietly, his mouth hanging open in shock, his mind going into overdrive. There was a car parked in the motel across the road, a car he would recognize anywhere. The impala.

He stumbled out of his jeep unable to believe his eyes, sure that if he blinked it would disappear. His legs felt like jelly, the relief sweeping through him, Sam and Dean would be here, just on the other side of the door. He stumbled to the room that had the impala outside and began pounding on the door. "Dean! Sam!" He called out, hitting the door so hard he thought he would probably knock it down. He giggled stupidly, he wouldn't be able to knock a door down, he didn't have wolf strength, even though he had been working out recently, trying to get faster and stronger. He blinked rapidly, waiting for the door to open, waiting to see Dean's grumpy face because despite the fact it was early afternoon he wouldn't have had any coffee yet, probably only just stumbling out of bed. Sam would be stood behind him, a light grin on his face, Stiles and him sharing a private joke at how bad Dean was before coffee. He waited. And he waited. The grin was slipping from his face. "Sam! Dean!" He said, pounding even more viciously on the door, they would answer, they would. He wasn't leaving until he saw them.

"Hey kid!" Somebody called across the car park, Stiles turned to look at him, sure it was Dean, sure that they had just been out and now they were here. Instead he saw what he assumed was the manager of the motel, he was wearing a vest that may have been white once upon a time but was now grey complete with various unnamed stains. He was a large guy, although he was probably only a few inches taller than Stiles, he was as wide as a house, with a gut as equally big. When he stood in front of Stiles he practically blocked out the very little bit of sun there was and Stiles shivered in his shadow. "What the hell are you doing?" He shouted to Stiles who seemed to suddenly realize how deranged his actions seemed. He glanced back to the door, still no movement.

"I'm looking for my cousins." He said, surprised by how steady his voice sounded.

"That ain't my problem, now get outta here." He said gruffly but Stiles stood his ground.

"This is their car." He said, pointing to the impala next to him, "They must be here, now can you open the door and let me in or I can call my dad, who by the way is the Sheriff in the next town over and tell him to come here and break the door down himself?" Stiles said, putting all the confidence he had into his words. The man practically snarled at him before pulling out his keys and unlocking the door.

It took Stiles a whole thirty seconds to see that Sam and Dean weren't in the tiny room, but he still decided to check under the beds in case they were just playing some massively unfunny joke on him. "Alright kid, that's enough. They ain't here." He grumbled. Stiles sighed heavily, all the tension back in his shoulders, he looked again around the room, their bags were here, the car keys sat on the table, one phone carelessly thrown on the bed, the other placed on the table near the keys. There was nothing out of place, nothing to say that something awful had happened here, but Stiles knew that something had. He knew that Sam and Dean had been taken against their will from this place. He was certain of it. "You best get on your way now." The man said still standing in the doorway.

"No." Stiles said pulling out his phone, "This is a crime scene. I'm calling my dad and then we can figure out what happened to them." Already starting to dial his dad's number. He turned his back on the man, searching again for any clues that might lead him to Sam and Dean, what he really needed was Scott, the guy could sniff them out from here, he was sure. He hesitated for a moment, maybe he should call Scott first, but then Scott was busy with whatever supernatural drama was going on that Stiles wasn't supposed to be involved in.

"How do you know that?" The bloke asked, sounding curious, Stiles looked again at the room.

"That is Sams phone." He said indicating the phone on the table, "Except it's next to the keys. Sam never has the keys, only when he's driving, then he gives them straight back to Dean. He wouldn't have the keys next to his phone. They'd be next to Deans." Stiles said, glad he found something small out of place, the fact that there was something out of place, no matter how small, meant he was right, they had been taken. He felt movement behind him, he turned around, too slow to stop the big fist colliding with the side of his head. He went down hard and fast, darkness already closing in around him.

Dean

Sam and Dean had pulled up to the motel late at night, they were only an hour or so from Beacon Hills but they were both still recovering from the daeva attack, they had driven pretty much non-stop since Stiles had called and they were both wiped. Sam had gone and checked them in for the night, their full intentions to finish the drive once they had both had a few hours sleep. Dean had gone across to the diner, grabbed them some food and headed back to the room. They ate quickly and in silence, both of them too tired to think of anything other than bed. Dean had sensed the movement at the door, heard them as soon as they had stepped into the room, he just hadn't been able to open his eyes to more than slits. He had tried to get his limbs to move but they hadn't wanted to, he had his hand wrapped tight around the knife he always slept with under his pillow but he wasn't able to move his arm to use it. They'd taken them both, Dean had seen Sam was in the exact same predicament and every instinct he has was screaming at him to protect Sam. Instead he'd been thrown over some guys shoulder and then thrown ungracefully into the back of a pick-up. And now he was here.

He still wasn't sure where here was, despite the fact that he thought it had to be maybe four or five days later. It was hard to tell time here, hard to keep time here. He knew it was underground, the stale air that surrounded him had him convinced of that as soon as he had first woken up. He hadn't seen Sam since and he was sure he was slowly losing his mind, going over every single possibility of all the things that could be happening to Sam, how much he could be suffering. It made Dean want to scream and cry at the same time. There was a hum of electricity and Dean glanced up, looking at where the electric prong rested against the bars of his cage. "Time to fight. You going willingly this time or do I need to use this again?" The jailer said, a snide smirk on his lips, Dean looked at him fantasizing about all the things he was going to do to this guy as soon as he got out of here, Dean knew the guy saw it in his eyes, he smiled.

"I'll kill you. Don't doubt it for one second buddy. My face is going to be the last thing you ever see." The jailer took a step back before seeming to remember that Dean was behind bars and he held a way of incapacitating him. He rammed the cattle prong into the cage which was the size of a large dog cage, small enough that Dean couldn't get out of the way. Dean arched up as electricity screamed through his body and then everything faded to black.

He regained consciousness as he felt himself falling, he put his hands out to stop himself but he still managed to hit the dirt hard. He looked up, seeing the electrified fence that surrounded the cage, the bright lights, the shine of the multiple red lights that he knew meant this was being recorded for some sick fuck to watch. He pulled himself to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood from where he must have bitten his own tongue. The gate at the far side of the cage opened up and another body was shoved through, this guy at least still conscious as he walked in under his own steam. "Look man," Dean started, "I don't want to fight you. We don't have to do this." He held his hands in front of him trying to placate the guy into not doing something stupid. Dean hated this, he knew that if he didn't fight he'd be taken into the dark room and tortured, thrown back into his cell and then wait until it was time to fight again, but still, even knowing all that, he didn't want to fight this guy. Not because he didn't think he couldn't take him, because hell yes, of course he could, no matter how much his ribs ached and his fingers throbbed, despite the fact he couldn't form a proper fist because of his pretty likely broken wrist, he still knew he could take this guy. He didn't want to fight him because he knew that the guy wasn't here by his own choice. He'd probably been taken too, just like the rest of them. He was being forced to fight for the entertainment of whoever was watching through their video screens, forced to fight every single time his number was called. Maybe the first time you had to fight, just maybe, you refused, but usually for most people after one trip to the dark room you decided fighting was better, unfortunately Dean wasn't like most people and he was currently expecting this next trip to be trip number nine. It wasn't like they fought to the death, just to the point of unconsciousness, but still, Dean didn't want to fight these guys, he didn't want to hurt them unnecessarily.

Before he could say anymore the guy charged him, swinging a large fist at his head, Dean blocked with his bad wrist, wincing slightly as the pain radiated through his arm. He ducked low, threw a shot in the guy's ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backwards a step, a look of shock on his face before it was replaced with anger. The guy charge him again, this time Dean dodged out of his way, ducking under his flailing arms, Dean sighed heavily, he wasn't going to be able to talk this guy out of fighting, he was going to have to end this quickly. He dodged the next two punches that came his way before slamming an elbow into the guys face knocking him instantly to the ground. Dean glanced down at him saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, just knocked out, not dead, he let out a sigh of relief. A moment later the doors of the fighting ring opened up again and Dean was once again stuck with the cattle prod.

The next thing he was aware of was cold water been thrown over him, "Wake up you sack of shit." Dean sat up quickly, swiping at the water covering his face, the guard walked past his cage, rattling the bars of some of the others. Dean glanced around, trying to see if he could see Sam now as people never seemed to get thrown in the same cage twice, he hoped that at some point he would be able to see his brother. "Sam!" He called out but there was no reply. The guard came back and seemed to take great satisfaction is pouring icy cold water over Dean again as he could do nothing other than sit and shiver.

Dean knew he had a little while before he had to fight again, the way he had it figured if you won a fight you got to rest, if you lost then you would fight again sooner. Like they were being graded on some sort of points system, he didn't understand it and it hurt his head when he thought about it too long, all he could think of was finding Sam and getting the hell out of here. He knew that somebody was recording their fights but beyond that he didn't know what the else was going on. He sat back against the back of the cage, hunched over, and trying to stifle the rising panic that there was nothing he could do to get out of here and that Sam was hurt.

"It's the damn stupidest thing you've ever done!" A voice hissed as it walked along the hallway, Dean perked up, it sounded like one of the guards had done something stupid, more stupid than usual, Dean tried to hide his grin.

"I'm sorry boss, I just didn't know what to do." Came the reply, Dean recognized that voice, it was one of the jailers who seemed to have so much fun sticking that damn cattle prod into his ribs. There was a heavy sigh in return, the boss was obviously not best pleased and even Dean could tell that, "I just panicked, the kid was looking for his cousins, he was picking up on things. I couldn't let him leave." Dean heard the words and felt his heart rate pick up instantly, had this guy kidnapped a kid? Killed him?

"We're supposed to be picking off people that nobody will really miss, not going after someone that will have the goddamn county breathing down our necks in ten minutes." The boss replied. Dean felt something like hope start to burn through his veins, this kid was obviously somebody important. He prayed he could hear the rest of the conversation; that they wouldn't move away before they were done. It seemed that somebody was listening to his prayers as the boss and the guard stayed just out of eyesight but still within earshot.

"Well, what do you want me to do with him?" The guard asked again, uncertainty clear in his voice. There was a moment of silence as the boss obviously thought through his options.

"Throw him in a cage, we might as well make some cash of the little bastard. We'll have him fight tonight." There was a pause before the boss spoke again, "And Tim," He said as an afterthought, his voice low and threatening, "Next time you decide to snatch up some kid, try to make sure it's not the kid of a fucking sheriff!" The boss warned angrily. Dean felt his heart rate go through the roof, the brief flair of hope that he had had was now buried beneath a tidal wave of despair.

"No." He found himself whispering in denial, "Not Stiles. Please not Stiles." He said quietly, praying over and over that it wouldn't be his cousin, that Stiles wasn't locked in this pit with them.

John

John was on his sixth cup of coffee of the day, he was sat around the briefing table with several of the other officers. Deputy Miller was at the end of the table, a screen behind her, a sad smile on her face. She'd rushed into his office a half an hour earlier, she'd managed to crack the password to the website that Stiles had found. John had seen the site and paled before calling a meeting of all his forces, hence why they found themselves in the briefing room. "Alright, Deputy Miller, please can you share what you've found?" He said, starting the meeting, wanting to get this over so he could get out there and start searching for Sam and Dean, no doubt in his mind now that they had been taken too. Well, Dean had been definitely, he'd seen that much himself.

"Thank you Sheriff." Claire said acknowledging him, "We were directed to the website earlier in the week, I managed to crack the password less than hour ago and we're now able to log into this site." She informed them, bringing up the website on the board behind her. "Now, what you are seeing is a live stream, or at least, I think it's a live stream," She said doubting herself, there was no movement on the screen at the time being. "I've set this up to record so we can always run back over any evidence that we can gather, anything we might miss, even the smallest thing." She paused again, chewing nervously on her bottom lip, "Well, I'll sum it up for you guys as quick as I can. Basically, it seems like the people that are taken are being made to fight. When I got in earlier I grabbed the Sheriff, there was a fight taking place at the time. We identified the fighters as Dean Winchester and Matthew Parks, both of who you will see on the list of missing people." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts, pointing again to the screen behind her, "As you can see, the site is essentially designed as a betting arena, you can make bets on each fighter, and even select which person you want to see fight again. We're already trying to track the location of where the broadcast, but it's proving difficult. In the mean-time, we're trying to see if there is anything recognizable within the screen, so please speak up if any of you can think of a location like this." She glanced around the table and met John's eyes. He wished that somebody else had an answer, an idea, because Claire had put so much effort into breaking into the site, and really it hadn't got them any further along. He sighed heavily.

"Thank you for the update deputy Miller." Quickly the room descended into suggestions, places they could be located, what the new information meant. John glanced at his phone, still no contact from Stiles, he got out of his chair and headed for the main room for a little bit more quiet. He quickly called Stiles, not exactly surprised when he didn't answer, "Look, Stiles, I'm sorry about earlier. I wanted to tell you I believe you. And that I'm sorry. I'm putting everything I have into finding them. We will find them." He paused, his mind flashing back to the look of hurt on Stiles' face earlier. "I love you Stiles. I'm sorry." He hung up the call, despising the fact that once again he had doubted his son. He stepped back into the meeting room, by now there was a long list of possible hideouts. Part of John just wanted to put his head in his hands, he was so tired, and really this didn't give them anything. No major breakthrough.

Time seemed to grow quickly and soon it was evening, all eyes had been darting back to the screen that still projected the website behind them, all of them seeming to be waiting for the next fight, waiting to see if they could figure anything out. "Welcome!" A voice suddenly boomed through the speakers, shocking the room into the silence, "Our next fight will be starting in five minutes. We will have number twenty four fighting against fresh meat tonight. Place your bets now!" The voice commanded. John watched the screen as a second screen showed the statistics of number twenty four, eleven fights, seven losses. There was a sort of morbid curiosity in the room, nobody wanted to watch this, but nobody could tear their eyes away.

Five minutes later the voice spoke again, "Number twenty four ladies and gentlemen!" A gate opened and a young man walked into the ring, he was probably in his early twenties, fair hair, he was tall and well built, but he also looked banged up, he'd obviously taken a bit of a beating. But his face was set in determination, he cracked his knuckles, shook the tension from his shoulders. "And the competitor, Number thirty eight, Fresh Meat!" The voice rang out. A second gate was opened and a young man was tossed unceremoniously into the ring. John paused for a moment, his heart rate rising, he was sure that Stiles had been wearing that t-shirt when he took off this morning, he couldn't see the kids face, he needed to see his face, John felt himself rising from his seat just trying to get a proper look. The boy stood up, brushing off the dirt on his jeans. He seemed unsteady on his feet and John could see blood running down the back of his neck and splattered on his t-shirt.

He turned around, becoming aware of his surroundings and John felt his heart stutter. "Stiles." He whispered, seeing that every eye in the room was suddenly on him. "How did they get my son?" He said quietly, unable to believe what he was seeing, "How the fuck did they get my son!?" He roared suddenly, an unbelievable anger overwhelming him upon seeing his son shoved into that cage.

Scott

"How long before they get here?" Malia asked impatiently. It was late afternoon and a cool breeze blew through the woods where they were waiting for the other pack to arrive.

Scott shook his head, "I don't know Malia. They'll be here when they get here." They'd been planning this all day, because Scott didn't want to have to fight off another pack, he wanted to at least try and reason with them, and so, despite the fact Malia had said time and time again that this was a bad idea, and that Stiles would have a better plan, they were here waiting for them. Scott knew that they were the ones behind the disappearances, he was almost positive of it, he was sure that they had a few members in the pack who couldn't control their urges and that was why so many people were missing. He had called Stiles earlier, wanting to apologize for keeping him out of this, but it had felt like the right thing to do, Stiles was so breakable, he didn't want to see his friend getting hurt.

He heard light footsteps coming towards them, smelt a change in the air and straightened up, Liam and Malia stepped to either side of him and Lydia stood a step behind. They looked united, a strong pack. Three men stepped into the clearing, the Alpha obviously at the front and his two betas behind him. He was older than Scott, maybe Derek's age? He had dark hair and bright green eyes, and although his skin was tanned he still looked washed out and, if Scott was honest, the guy looked exhausted.

"Thank you for requesting to speak to us. I apologize for trespassing on your land." The man spoke suddenly, he was very formal, but Scott could hear the weariness in his voice. Liam and Malia both glanced at Scott, confusion evident on their faces, why hadn't the guy attacked already?

"Why are you trespassing then?" Liam said after a moment of silence, Scott remained silent, let Liam ask the questions if he wanted, Scott would meanwhile listen to ensure that no other wolves were sneaking up on them, that this wasn't an ambush.

The man sighed heavily, "Usually I would have gone about this better, but we didn't realise we had crossed over into your pack lands until it was too late." This only seemed to raise more questions, Scott arched his eyebrow questioningly. "My name is Percy, these are my beta's Jason and Frank." He said indicating the men on either idea him, one a lean man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, the other a hulk of a man, dark haired, barrel chested man who looked like he could crush Scott's head between his hands without a second thought. "Two weeks ago a member of my pack was taken from us. Frank and Leo were out, just getting the groceries, when they were ambushed. Frank had a special skill and he was able to get free of the witch's spell…"

"Hang on a second," Malia said, "You're saying your pack was attacked by a witch?"

"Yes." Percy continued, "I don't know why, and I don't know how she knew. But she wasn't alone. She had a few other men with her, she paralyzed Leo and Frank, made it so they were unable to fight back." He glanced across to Frank, who let out a small nod before continuing with the story.

"We couldn't do anything, we were awake, but we couldn't do anything about it. I watched as they threw Leo in the back of a car and then they were coming back for me." Despite his hulking appearance, Frank sounded like a lost kid, his genuine care for his pack mate obvious, he scrubbed his hands across his face, as if wishing he didn't have to relive this memory, Percy placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I have a little bit of magic on my mother's side so I was able to fight a few effects of the spell, I managed to crawl away from them, despite the fact that they kept trying to pull me back towards the car. I started screaming for help, which I know was pretty pathetic, but I didn't know what else to do. Anyway, I must have gotten somebodies attention, because suddenly there was lick a swarm of people around me. Except the car was gone, and Leo was gone." Frank finished his story, glancing up to look at Scott, his heartbeat had been steady the whole time, Frank wasn't lying. It also didn't seem like there were any other wolves waiting to attack them. Scott relaxed just a little bit.

"So why come here then?" Scott asked, trying not to sound too much like a sucker, as if there was still some doubt about their story.

"We were tracking Leo. I thought I could feel him somewhere around here, but I keep losing him. I didn't realise that we were on your lands until it was too late." Percy said, sounding genuinely sorry, "I understand that this is not normal procedure, but please," He pleaded, "I just want to find my pack mate. I promise you that as soon as he is found we will be gone from your lands."

Scott mulled it over for a moment, he believed them, their heartbeats were steady throughout their story, he had no reason to doubt their story, and moreover, he found that he wanted to believe it. It made much more sense than a random pack suddenly deciding to invade their lands and taking over twenty people. Scott didn't know what happened to the missing people, if they were killed or held prisoner, or the hundred other things that raced through his mind. It made more sense that they were looking for their pack mate. Except now he had to deal with the fact that something else was taking these people and apparently there was a witch involved too.

He sighed heavily, "Alright, I believe you, and we'll do everything we can to help you find your pack mate." He said addressing the three wolves in front of him. Scott thought of Stiles, of how he'd been so insistent that there was something else going on, and Scott hadn't told him about the pack, so afraid that he'd get hurt again, except now he needed Stiles to know everything, needed him to help him figure out what was going on. He thought back to the harsh words he had spoken earlier, how Stiles had looked at him with such hurt in his eyes, and Scott knew there was more behind it, almost like acceptance, or resignation, like Stiles felt he somehow deserved Scott being such a dick to him. Scott felt like punching himself, he'd hurt Stiles again! He'd hurt him so many times in the past that Scott had lost track, and every time he said to himself he'd do better, he wouldn't let Stiles get hurt again because of him. Except this time, he was the one doing the hurting, insinuating to Stiles that he was the reason Allison was dead, yeah, that was a low blow, even by Scott's standards. God he was a jackass.

He glanced to Liam, Malia and Lydia who already seemed to know what he was thinking. "Stiles will know what to do." Lydia spoke up eventually, her faith in Stiles unwavering.

"I was just thinking that." Scott nodded in agreement.

"Who's Stiles?" Jason asked, looking at the four of them in confusion, obviously desperate to get on and find Leo.

"He's pack and he's smart. He'll figure this out." Scott said pulling his phone out of his pocket. He was startled when it started ringing in the same instant. Except it wasn't Stiles number, it was the station. "Hello?" He answered in confusion.

"Oh, thank god, Scott!" John said, relief evident in his voice, "Scott, listen, you need to come to the station right now." John said intensely.

"Why? What's going on?" Scott asked, sensing the panic in John's voice, looking around at the other wolves in the clearing and knowing they could hear it too.

"It's Stiles. They've taken Stiles." John answered, trying to hold back his sobs.

It seemed like all the air had suddenly left his lungs, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think straight. What did John mean when he said they'd taken Stiles? How did he know? Who was they? "I'm on my way." He said eventually ending the call with trembling fingers.

They all followed him to the station, Percy, Jason and Frank included. When he got there the Sheriff directed them into his office, looking more nervous and tense than Scott had ever seen him. "What happened?" He asked instantly, needing to know where to start trying to track Stiles down. The Sheriff glanced at the three new people, "They are from a different pack, one of their members was taken. We're going to find him and we're going to find Stiles." Scott said informing the Sheriff of the situation.

John nodded, he paced the room, like he was so pent up he was unable to sit still, it reminded Scott of Stiles and his heart beat faster, what the hell had happened? "Tell us what's going on, please?" He pleaded, not used to seeing the Sheriff so agitated. John looked up at Scott and sighed heavily before finally going to sit in his chair.

"Stiles gave us a website address, he was sure it had to do with the kidnappings. It was password protected. He told me this morning that he was sure Sam and Dean had been taken." Percy raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, it was Lydia who replied.

"Stiles' cousins. Now shut up so we can hear the rest of the story." Lydia snapped before motioning for John to continue.

"I told him he was wrong." John said, looking like he was about to cry, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "This afternoon, one of the deputies managed to break into the website. Basically it's a fighting ring, and the missing people are the ones fighting, you can place bets on it and whatever." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts, "People disgust me." He said quietly, and Scott agreed, he could feel his own stomach swirling uncomfortably. "I saw Dean fighting, I know he's there. We are trying to track the location of the broadcast, and see if we can recognize anything from the visuals. It was announced that another fight would be taking place soon. I watched the screen, and my son…" John pauses, his voice breaking with emotion, "My god damn son was been thrown into the ring. Made to fight."

Scott is pretty sure he's going to be sick, the idea of Stiles being kidnapped is one thing, the idea of watching him have to fight for his life was another. He couldn't breathe, this was all his fault, if he'd just told Stiles what was going on, if he'd taken him to the meeting with them, if he'd done something instead of push his best friend away. "What happened?" Scott heard himself ask, not sure if he wanted to know.

John let out a deep sigh, pulling his laptop across the desk, "Watch."

Stiles

He felt like crap, his head was absolutely pounding, he touched the back of his head gently and when he drew his fingers back he saw they were covered in blood. He took in his surroundings, he was in a cage, it looked like a freaking dog cage, outside of the cage it was artificial light, no natural light made its way in here, the smell of stale air had him thinking he was underground somewhere. "Hello?" He called out, seeing if any of his captors would return. Instead there was a quiet mumbling and Stiles turned to see another cage about six foot away from him, currently occupied by a man around his age, with short curly hair and a deep tan. "Hey?" Stiles called out, "You okay?" There was no reply, "Can you tell me what this place is?" Still no answer, "Hey, look, it's okay, I just want to know what's going on. I was looking for my cousins. Maybe you've seen them? One's really, really tall, kind of shaggy dark brown hair, the other is just really tall, he's got shot dark blonde hair. Does any of this ring a bell?" Finally there was movement from the other cage, the guy turning to look at him.

"You've got to be quiet. If they know you're awake, they'll come for you." He said, his voice barely above a whisper but Stiles could still hear the pain there.

"Good." Stiles said louder, "I want them to come. I want to know what the hell is going on here." He glanced at the guy again, he looked like he was in some serious pain, he was covered in sweat and blood, "Hey, man, what's your name? I'm Stiles." The guy glanced up at him, Stiles could have sworn there was almost a smile at his lips.

"Leo." He said simply.

"Well, Leo, don't worry. I'm going to get you and me and my cousins, and whoever else is stuck in this cesspit out of here. I have friends okay? Friends who will be able to find me no matter where I am. They'll come." He said trying to reassure Leo, who only scoffed.

"Yeah. I've got friends like that too. Except I've been here god only knows how long and there is no sign of them yet."

Stiles grinned, "You won't have friends like mine. Trust me Leo. I'm going to get us out of here." Leo opened his mouth to reply but was silenced when he heard footsteps approaching.

"What number?" He heard someone ask, hating that Leo seemed to shrink into his cage as far as possible.

"Thirty Eight." Another voice replied. Stiles didn't know what was going on but he figured he would find out soon enough. A group of four people came into view and Stiles paled slightly, they were all tall, broad, covered in tattoos and scars and generally just scary looking. They stopped outside his cage, staring at him as if he was some kind of new species, one that was much lower down on the food chain than them obviously.

"Well, gentlemen, it is lovely to meet you." Stiles rambled, trying to hide his fear, "I think if I remember correctly I'm usually entitled to one phone call in these situations. I'd like to call my father, you know, he's the Sheriff of Beacon Hills. I'm sure you wouldn't want to upset him." Stiles said, hoping the false display of bravery would help him in the long run. It didn't.

They were dragging him out of the cage, before he could stand upright they were slamming him down into the dirt ground again. Stiles spat out a mouthful of dust, "Well that just wasn't very polite. You know I'm going to have to mark you down when it comes to writing a review." He grinned, "You know something along the lines of, space is a little small, you get a one out of ten for that, décor, well," He gestured to the room around him, "That's going to have to be a zero, how did the staff treat you? Very poorly actually." He was silenced by a fist to his stomach, knocking all the air out, but he had heard Leo stifle a giggle while he had been ranting so that made him feel a bit better.

"Take him to be branded, then put him in the cage." The man, who was obviously the boss ordered them. The other three grabbed hold of him, gripping him tightly as he struggled to get away from them. He didn't like the sound of that, not at all. He was pulled through another two rooms, each lined with occupied cages, he thought he was going to be sick, some of these guys looked like hell.

"Sam!" He suddenly screeched, seeing his cousin crammed into one of those cages made him see red. He lashed out as much as he could, staring over to where Sam looked at him with pain filled eyes. It was obvious that Sam was in agony, Stiles could see his injuries from here, he was so badly injured that he wasn't sure that Sam was alive to begin with. But then he saw Sam's eyes on him, saw him recognize Stiles, saw his name form on Sam's lips as he lost the little colour he had left. He was covered in blood, his shirt had been torn away and there were cuts littering his body, Stiles thought he was going to be sick.

His captors were dragging him away from Sam and Stiles fought them with everything he had, "No!" He screamed, "Sam! Get off me!" He twisted and turned, trying to get out of their iron grip and get to his cousin but it was no use. He was dragged kicking and screaming away from Sam, they pulled him through into another room, the first thing that hit him was how much hotter it was in here than in the other rooms, he took another look and saw more cages but his eyes were fixed on the fire at the far end of the room. Another man waited there, a feral grin on his lips and he was twirling an iron bar in the fire.

"Stiles?" He heard a shocked voice ask, he turned to look and saw Dean peering out at him from behind the bars of his cage, "Stiles!" He shouted louder, "No! Get off him! Don't do this!"

"Dean!" Stiles called back, terror in his voice when he saw the state of his other cousin, he'd obviously taken a beating as well, but he was alive, and conscious, which was better than Sam. He tried to pull out of the men's grip again, but they were still dragging him relentlessly towards the fire. Dean was still shouting in the background but all Stiles could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. The man by the fire had pulled out the iron bar and Stiles could clearly see the number thirty eight glowing brightly on the end of it. He paled and tried again with renewed strength to get away from them, they shoved him to his knees, stretching his arm out in front of him, holding him so tight he couldn't move as the bar was lowered onto his inner wrist. He screamed as it burned, he didn't care that everyone could hear him, he didn't care about anything right now other than trying to get away from the heat that was tearing him apart.

Suddenly his arm was plunged into a bucket of icy cold water and Stiles took a moment to breathe as the burning ebbed away slightly. He couldn't look at his wrist, sure that all flesh had been melted from it, he thought he was going to be sick it hurt so much. The man who had branded him grinned at him, "Just in case you forget where you are in the food chain. That's who you are now. Not a Sheriff's son, not a son, or brother, or cousin, or friend. You are thirty eight." He grabbed hold of Stiles' hand, shoving his inner wrist so that Stiles couldn't help but look at the number burnt into his skin. "That is all you are." The man said before letting Stiles' wrist fall.

Stiles was fairly sure he was in shock, he felt them pulling him to his feet, dragging him into yet another room, and Jesus, just how big was this place? And why did the walls all look like stone rather than brick? And was it odd that something felt familiar about this place? If he could only get the pounding in his head to stop then he might be able to figure it out. Until suddenly he was shoved through a gate and he fell hard onto the ground.

He looked up, trying to fight off the nausea still swirling in his stomach. He was in a cage, but this one was much bigger, it looked more like one of those wrestling rings that you see on television, except this one had a twelve foot fence around it, he could practically hear the electricity running through the metal, he really didn't want to touch the fence. He tried not to think about the agony in his wrist, or the pounding in his head, he wanted to figure out what he was doing here. He looked and saw the man opposite him, his face set in determination instead of confusion, he had also taken a beating sometime recently, Stiles was beginning to think it was the norm here. He looked again and saw a multitude of red lights shining through the metal of the cage, he peered at one closely, realized that they were being recorded, "Hey dude, I don't know what's going on here, but I don't want any trouble." Stiles said, eyeing up the fists that were clenched at the guys side. The man seemed to take that as an invitation and suddenly came at Stiles. He swung wildly and Stiles just managed to step out of the way, "What the hell dude!?" He said in anger, was this guy on steroids or something?

"Fight me!" The man roared, Stiles could see the anger in his gaze, but he could also sense the fear behind it.

"I'm not fighting you." Stiles said, not quite stepping out of the way before a fist connected with his side. He managed to dart across the ring to the other side, he wasn't going to fight this guy, but he didn't exactly want to get beaten to a pulp either. "Dude!" He shouted as he narrowly dodged another swinging fist. "I'm not going to fight you. I'm not! Okay? So just tell me what the hell is going on here!" He shouted, dodging another fist. He was glad he hung out with werewolves, human speed was really quite slow compared to them. Stiles had so much experience with werewolf fighting that his reflexes had obviously improved slightly.

"Fight me!" The man demanded again, following the demand with another swinging fist.

"What the hell is this?" Stiles said loudly, figuring if he wouldn't get an answer from the steroid guy, that maybe his captors would be more helpful. "Is this some kind of fight club?" He grinned, "Rule number one, you do not talk about fight club. Rule number two, you do not talk about fight club." He laughed at his own joke, stepping again out of reach of another fist, but then the grin slipped from his face as his thoughts caught up with him, this was some kind of fight club. They kidnapped people and then made them fight, while they what? What did these guys get from it? He looked again at the red lights, of course! He felt so stupid, he actually smacked himself in the forehead, that's what the website was, they broadcast these fights, get people to bet on them. He was so lost in thought that he was too late to dodge the fist that was coming towards his face, he'd zoned out at the most critical time. He went down hard, and then the guy had started kicking him in the stomach, really? Was that necessary? Stiles thought to himself as he lay in the dirt.

"Alright, enough." A voice said. Instantly the kicking stopped and Stiles took a moment trying to catch his breath. A man stepped into the cage, a balaclava covering his face. "The victor is Twenty Four." He looked down at Stiles with disgust evident in his eyes, "Take Thirty Eight to the dark room, show him what we do to those who don't fight." Two more men entered the ring and dragged Stiles from his position on the ground. Stiles couldn't help but let out a moan of pain as he was moved, trying hard to bite his tongue so they wouldn't know just how bad he was hurt.

Within a moment he was thrown back on the ground, except he wasn't sure that he had opened his eyes, everything was so dark. He could hear the shuffling movements that meant he wasn't in here alone. Without warning there was a sharp stinging pain as a knife sliced across his arm. He grimaced and tried to pull himself away from the threat, except he couldn't see it, and, oh my god, he couldn't move! What the hell was going on? He couldn't move, it was like being paralyzed by Kanima venom all over again. "Stop!" He shouted but there was no reply, only the sting as the knife sliced through him again.

He felt the knife slice across his legs again and he tried not to scream, another cut and he could feel the tears streaming down his face as he fought to hold the screams in. He was sure he was going to bleed out here on the floor, sure that the wounds inflicted so far were only the beginning, and the entire time there was only silence, no matter how much he begged for it to stop, there was only silence in return. The pain only seemed to build as the knife sliced through his skin over and over, across his arms, his legs, his chest, his back. God, it hurt, it hurt so much. He couldn't stop himself from screaming anymore, anything to try and relieve the pain.

It felt like hours later when it finally stopped, Stiles was sobbing, his throat hoarse from screaming, but for now it was over. He heard the shuffle of feet and suddenly he was being dragged out of the room and back towards the fighting cage.

John

He sat in silence as the group in front of him watched Stiles fight, or not fight as the case may be, he didn't need to have werewolf hearing to hear the screams that had echoed from 'the dark room' as it was called, but worse was the silence afterwards, when the screaming had stopped and he wasn't sure if his son was unconscious or dead.

The recording ended and there was a shocked silence around the room. "Why?" Scott asked quietly, his voice sounding broken and John couldn't help but be reminded that he was still a kid, hell, they all were.

"I don't know." John replied, his throat tight. "We need to find him."

"We will." Lydia said firmly, her voice fierce. "He's not dead. I'd know if he was dead. We'll find him. We aren't going to let him down again." She said, glaring at Scott as she spoke. John thought he must have been missing something. This wasn't Scott's fault. This was his fault. He'd practically driven Stiles away, not wanting to admit that Sam and Dean were missing.

There was a knock at the door and Deputy Miller entered the room, a nervous look on her face.

"Sheriff?" She asked nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah?" He replied, weary with what he was sure was going to be more bad news.

"It's, erm, Sheriff, the thing is…"

"What is it?" John asked, he'd never heard the woman sound so nervous before.

She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes, "They've called his number again." She said quietly.

It took John a second to process what she was saying and then he was striding out of the room, the others all trailing behind him.

Stiles was just appearing on the screen as John entered the room and he couldn't stop the tears that were filling his eyes. Stiles was covered in blood, probably all his own, his shirt and trousers were shredded and John could see the cuts and bruises underneath them, Stiles was swaying unsteadily, his eyes barely focusing on the man in the cage with him.

His opponent must have been in his early thirties, but he looked to have spent many of those years in the gym and taking steroids, he was easily twice the size of Stiles and he had a feral grin on his face, showing just how much he was going to enjoy this. He ran at Stiles who managed to move out of his way only a moment before it would have been too late. The guy turned back to Stiles, smashing a massive fist into his chest. Stiles gasped, the wind obviously knocked out of him, another fist connected with the side of his face and Stiles was spitting out blood.

John could hear the sounds of despair that filled the room, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the screen, couldn't look away from his son. The guy backed upwards, giving Stiles a moment to recover. Stiles spat out another mouthful of blood and then got unsteadily to his feet.

"I'd give it up if I were you kid. It'll be easier if you stay down."

Stiles, god that kid was going to give him heart failure he was sure, looked up at his opponent, and he god damn grinned, okay, it was a bloody grin, but there was still a grin there, still some sign that his son wasn't beaten just yet. "Funny thing, actually, I don't ever do anything the easy way." Stiles said, the grin still in place despite how raw his voice sounded. John couldn't stop the tears in his eyes, the hope he felt at knowing that his son was still fighting this.

Stiles dodged the next few hits, pacing carefully around the edge of the cage, always getting out of the way of the swinging fists. John wasn't sure how he was doing it, how Stiles was keeping himself upright despite the blood that was covering him, he wasn't sure that he would have had the strength had he been in that position.

His opponent was getting closer, trying to make sure that Stiles didn't have time to doge the next fist, he swung again, the arrogance on his face that this time he would hit Stiles and there would be nowhere for him to go.

Stiles ducked at the last possible second, sending the guys fist straight into the electrified fence behind him. The man cried out in agony as he was flung backwards halfway across the cage and he lay twitching on the floor.

"The Winner! Number Thirty Eight." A voice announced to the viewers. "The next fight will take place in two hours."

John watched as the gate to the cage was opened and the man who was still twitching on the floor was dragged from the cage. Stiles backed away from the men who had entered the cage now, seemingly intent on keeping away from them. One of the men grinned at him before pulling out a cattle prod and jamming it into Stiles' side.

John watched at Stiles fell to the floor, a cry of pain slipping from his lips before unconsciousness took him. Tears spilling down his cheeks as he watched his son been dragged from the cage.

Lydia

Her heart was pounding in her throat, she had been on edge ever since Scott had taken the Sheriffs call. Something had happened to Stiles, she knew it, but knowing it and seeing it, well, they were two very different things.

She couldn't help the tears that were flowing down her cheeks, or the way her throat was so tight, and she couldn't help but let out broken sobs. She had heard him screaming in 'the dark room' whatever the hell that was, and she had struggled to breathe. She had wondered vaguely if this was how Stiles felt when he was having a panic attack, that there wasn't enough air, there would never be enough air again.

She'd been pushing him away recently, she knew she had, but she didn't want to admit to him why, because she was crazy about him, she was so madly, deeply in love with the guy. And she couldn't tell him that, not when he wasn't over Malia, not when he was Malia's anchor. She couldn't tell him now. She wasn't sure she could tell him ever, what happened if she told him how she felt and then he didn't feel the same way? Times change and Stiles had definitely changed, he wasn't the same guy that had been in love with her since third grade. What if they dated and then they split up? Could she really be friends with him afterwards? No. It would be much better to push him away, so she couldn't get hurt. Except now, he was taken from them, and he was been tortured, and Lydia wanted to tell him, wanted him to know just how crazy she was about him. And she couldn't. She might never get the chance. And so she couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

She was aware of someone pulling her into a hug after the second fight, after watching Stiles' body been dragged from the cage, after hearing that little cry of pain as they electrocuted him. She wanted to scream, and not in a 'someone is about to die' kind of way. She wanted to scream because Stiles was hurt, and those bastards had hurt him, and it hurt her to see him like that. She wanted to scream because the pain in her chest hurt, the feeling of rage overwhelming her and crushing her, but she couldn't.

She was Lydia Martin, she always held it together. She was strong. So instead she pulled away from the person hugging her, who turned out to be Scott, she swiped away the tears on her face and set her mouth in firm determination. "How do we find them?" She said to the room at large.

Leo

Leo watched as they dragged Stiles back to the cage next to his. He was grateful to see that the boy was still breathing even if he wasn't conscious. He looked up at the ceiling above him, the way it twisted away into darkness, he smelt the stale air, the blood and pain that seemed to be a constant scent down here. He prayed that Percy was on his way; that Frank had got away, that they were close to finding him. The wolfsbane that ran through his system burned and it only seemed to be getting worse. He could barely keep his strength up and he knew it had something to do with the witch that he saw on a regular basis. She came to his cage, observed him, an evil smirk on her lips, before ordering another dose to be administered.

He waited until there was no one else around and then called out quietly, "Stiles?" There was no answering reply, but Leo could still see the rise and fall of his chest so he knew he was alive.

Leo wasn't sure how long he had been here, there was no sense of time; the only thing that broke up the day was when the guards came to take someone to fight, and the odd times that they threw them a bottle of water or some stale bread. They'd known what he was when they took him, he'd heard the witch telling the guards as soon as she had him. That she'd had to work harder to keep him still that with normal humans. They'd dosed him up with wolfsbane and then they'd tortured him to weaken him further.

Stiles had appeared however much time afterwards, he'd been unconscious when they'd thrown him in his cage, but he'd come round soon enough. Leo had felt a small laugh bubble up when Stiles had told the guards off. It had been unexpected, he felt like crap so he wasn't sure where he'd found the energy to laugh, but there was something about Stiles. Something that made Leo want to trust him, believe him when he said his friends would find him.

The witch had appeared not long after, her blonde hair flowing down the back of her black dress. The dress clung in all the right places and Leo would have said she was gorgeous if it wasn't for two things, the first was her eyes, they were a mossy green, but they were soulless, not like Percy's that danced with almost constant amusement, no, these eyes were cold and dark and if you stared at them too long you felt like you were going to get sucked in. The second thing was her scent, she smelled of joy and death, and in a place like this, where pain and blood were the only constant smells, nobody should feel joy.

He'd woken up to the sounds of Stiles screaming, he could hear at least one other person screaming his name; he wondered if that was the cousin that Stiles had spoken of. It felt like hours later when Stiles had been dumped back into the cage next to him and Leo had felt his heart break a little at the look of him. He looked like he had taken a serious beating, his wrist branded with his number. Leo glanced at his own wrist where the number had since healed, in that moment he hated his werewolf powers, because as much as they were trying to help him to heal, they were useless to help Stiles.

"Stiles?" He tried again, keeping his voice as low as possible. This time he received a groan in reply, and ever so slowly Stiles opened his eyes.

Stiles

"What happened?" He asked groggily, going to sit up and then changing his mind as pain shot through his body. He blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened, it felt like he'd taken a beating, his head was throbbing in time to his pulse, the last thing he remembered was leaving Scott's house.

"Stiles, you okay?" A voice said in the darkness. He turned his head slowly in the direction of the voice, noticing the bars that blocked his view. Huh bars? He thought, trying to process the slow trickle of memories.

"Oh, yeah, cage, fight club." He said more to himself than anybody else.

"Stiles?" The voice said again, and he could hear the worry in it, what was the guy's name again? He should remember this, he sighed heavily as his brain eventually caught up with him.

"Yeah Leo, I'm fine." He said quietly, not wanting to speak any louder, not wanting to go back out there again, not wanting to have to face how raw his voice would sound if he spoke normally.

"You look like shit." Leo said.

Stiles laughed quietly, a small huff of air, "You're not looking too hot yourself dude. You doing okay?"

Leo smiled sadly, "I'll be fine." There was silence. Stiles had closed his eyes again, trying not to think about how much his body hurt, he wondered how long he had been gone, had anyone even noticed he was missing yet? Probably not. His dad was working long hours at the moment, trying to track down the missing people. Stiles had been to the station on multiple occasions. He'd spent a whole afternoon with the new deputy Miller. It had been quite enjoyable actually, okay so they were trying to hack into a website that they weren't exactly sure what it was, but they'd had a few jokes, Miller reminded him a bit of Dean, she was quite sarcastic, but she was also funny and clever. She was also very hot, which kind of distracted him slightly, okay, it wasn't like he'd ever have a chance with her, but she wasn't that much older than him, and she was beautiful, even though she looked to be running herself into the ground on this case.

She'd still spent the time with Stiles, made him think that what he had to say was actually worth something. Which was more than anyone else at the moment. He was allowed a schoolboy crush right? That's all it was. It wasn't like he actually wanted to date her. He just liked her. She was good. He was sure.

Maybe she'd notice he was gone if he didn't turn up at the station for a day or two. If his dad went home, and that was a big if, and Stiles wasn't there, his dad would just assume that he was with the pack.

Scott had told him he didn't want him around while this new threat was there, so the pack probably wouldn't be missing him either.

He felt like crying, did anyone know he was gone? How would they find him if they didn't know he was even missing?

"It'll be alright." Leo said suddenly, as if picking up on Stiles' distress. "We'll get out of here Stiles. I promise you."

Stiles nodded, but he wasn't sure that he believed Leo. Suddenly he felt very alone. The only people that would probably notice he was gone were the ones that were down here with him, which just made of him think of Sam and Dean all over again, and made the urge not to cry even harder.

He knew he was forgetting something; that his brain had thought of something else important, but it was lost in the buzzing of his pain, he just wished he could remember what it was he thought he knew.

Percy

"Alright, so we know they are kidnapping people and making them fight, but why take a werewolf? I mean Leo cold beat any of them easily, it wouldn't make a fair fight, so why take a wolf?" His words were met with silence.

He looked around the room at the tear stained faces, smelling the waves of fear and sorrow that they were all emitting.

"Does it matter?" Percy turned in confusion as it was Jason that was speaking. "Does it matter why they have him? They have him and however many other people. And they are hurting them. For fun. We need to get them out of there." Jason said vehemently.

The room was silent in their agreement, except none of them knew where to go from here. They had no idea where to even start, and Percy couldn't help as his eyes kept straying back to the screen at the end of the room. He didn't want to see Leo. He couldn't face seeing Leo getting hurt, but he needed to see him, needed to know he was in one piece. He sighed heavily, glancing across at Scott. He had no idea how to deal with the fact that there was another alpha here.

He pretended not to notice the way Malia was shaking as she had watched Stiles fight. Her hands trembling. He saw Scott looking at her too, could sense the worry from the alpha.

Percy hadn't been an alpha long, and their previous alpha hadn't exactly been a nice guy. Hence why Percy had ended up having to kill him. It hadn't been like he wanted to do it, but when the guy had attacked Jason, beaten him to within an inch of his life, and then threatened to do the same to Frank and Leo, well, Percy hadn't been able to stand it anymore. He'd defended his brothers, he'd killed their alpha, and now he was one. Except he didn't know what he was doing nine times out of ten. He wasn't some True Alpha like Scott, hell, he hadn't even been able to protect Leo. He hated been alpha, and yeah, sure, he didn't want to go back to how things had been before, but he hated feeling like everything was out of his control all the time.

Scott cleared his throat, "Well, the only thing we can do is try and track Stiles' scent. Maybe we can find them that way. Sitting here isn't going to help. We'll try and track him down. Sheriff, will you call us if you get anything on their location?"

The Sheriff nodded, his eyes tracking back to the screen again. Percy thought it sucked as a plan, but it was the only plan they had so he nodded, "We'll come with you. Maybe we'll get Leo's scent." Frank and Jason nodded behind him. Scott nodded firmly.

"Okay. Come on them." He headed to the door, Malia (still looking like she was on the edge of losing control), Liam and Lydia trailing behind him.

Percy turned back to the Sheriff, seeing the haunted look in his eyes, "We'll find him Sir." Percy said, hoping that it wasn't a lie.

Stiles

When Stiles woke up it was to the sound of Leo shouting. "I said get away from him you bitch!" Stiles opened his eyes to look up at a woman standing outside of his cage, a feral grin on her lips.

"Aren't you a pretty one?" She smiled, running her fingers along the edge of the cage. Leo was practically growling and Stiles glanced across to see him, he looked like crap, white under his tan, exhaustion evidence in his features, barely having enough strength to keep himself upright.

Stiles looked back at the woman, she was sure she had something to do with why Leo looked like crap and he snarled at her. She laughed.

"Come now boy, I've had enough of that from the wolf." Stiles eyes widened as her words registered, Leo was a werewolf, of course he was a goddamn werewolf! "But, you," She continued, "You are something else altogether aren't you?" She clicked her fingers and the guards approached. "I want this one for the next few hours at least."

Stiles was grabbed roughly from the cage, trying not to wince as his body was pulled out of his cage and his cuts and bruises flared up. At least his head wasn't hurting quite so much and he took in his surroundings. He recognized now that he wasn't in a room, he was in a cave, the high ceiling, the rock walls, the way the screams echoed, he couldn't believe he hadn't realized it before.

The guards held him tightly as the woman strolled ahead of them. He was dragged through the other rooms of cages again, fear in his eyes as he saw both Sam and Dean were unconscious, prayed that they were still breathing, dragged past the fire and into a smaller cave with a few candles littered about.

He was shoved down onto a large sturdy oak table, his wrists and ankles chained to each corner of it. He screamed and fought as the guards tied him down but he couldn't fight them off. The guards left slamming a large wooden door behind them and then suddenly there was silence.

Stiles glared at the woman in front of him. He wasn't sure what she was but he knew she was dangerous, it was like he could feel the aura of danger surrounding her. She grinned again, flashing her teeth.

"You are adorable when you glare like that." She smiled approaching him. Stiles was at a loss for words. First time for everything he figured.

"What do you want?" He said eventually, the words torn from his sore throat.

"That's simple Stiles. I want to help you." Whatever he'd been expecting her to say it wasn't that. She came closer, her eyes flashing bright green, she rested her hand flat against his stomach, her fingers spread wide.

He glanced down at her hand and she must have been able to sense his nervousness, "Don't worry, by the time we're done you'll be begging me to touch you." She smiled happily, that was around the time that Stiles realized she was actually insane.

"Look, I don't know what you are, but my friends are going to be looking for me. They're going to find me. My best friend is a True Alpha. You might as well leave now, before the rescue starts and you get hurt." He said, hoping to frighten her. Instead she dug her fingers into his stomach and he screamed as pain overwhelmed him. She let go a moment later, a grin still on her lips.

"You think Scott McCall will be any match for me? I'm a very powerful witch Stiles. He couldn't take me even with the whole pack behind him." She let the information sink in. "But, that would imply that he was looking for you. Which he's not. They don't even know you are missing Stiles. And even if they did, I don't know that they would care."

"Look lady," Stiles interrupted, not wanting to hear her voice his own thoughts, "I'm going to call you Elphaba, you know because of the whole wicked witch of Oz thing." He grinned at her, "I guess it's pretty obvious that you like the sound of you own voice. I get that. But please don't waste your breath on me. I'm pretty good at selective hearing. I'm just gonna tune you out. Maybe listen to some music in my head." He hated the fact that she still smiled serenely at him before digging her fingers back into his stomach and making him scream again.

"You don't have to listen to me. I'll show you." She said sweetly before pressing her hands against either side of his head.

He was stood in the station. He looked around, saw Miller sat at her desk, studying something seriously on the computer.

"Miller." His father's voice came from behind him, Stiles turned round; feeling a cold rush as his father walked right through him. Elphaba was stood next to him smiling.

"They can't see or hear you. But this is what's happening right now. They aren't bothered about you." She said quietly.

Stiles glared at her, she was idiotic if that's what she thought. Stiles knew they cared about him, even if he was a pain sometimes, they would still come for him if they knew he was missing right?

"Sheriff? You okay?" Miller replied.

"Yeah, sure, just wondering how you're going on with the missing person's case?"

"I'm still working on it Sir." His dad nodded.

"Good, well keep at it. We'll crack it I'm sure."

"Yeah, definitely. It'll be easier now Stiles isn't slowing me down." She looked up suddenly as if realising what she'd said, a faint blush on her cheeks. "Sorry, Sir, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, you know, he wasn't overly helpful." She said awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it." John said, brushing her apology away. "I know what a hyperactive little bastard my kid can be. I'm just glad you managed to keep him occupied for a couple of hours. It meant that we could actually get some work done." He sighed heavily, weighing up his next words, "It's not that I don't care for the kid, I do, but he doesn't make it easy. He's a pain in the ass, he's always getting in the way at crime scenes, always spouting out random crap that I don't need to know. Just, I feel an awful person for thinking it, but sometimes, it would be so much easier if he wasn't around."

Stiles couldn't help the tears forming in his eyes, but he stood defiantly, unwilling to let the witch see how much his dads words had torn through him. "Alright, shall we see what the pack and Scott are up to?" Elphaba said, a grin on her lips.

Stiles was stood in Scott's kitchen, he could hear voices in the other room and he followed them through into the living room. Scott, Lydia, Liam and Malia were all piled in on the couch, bowls of popcorn, watching a film on the television. It was night outside, he'd been gone a few hours at least, although he reckoned it was more like a day and a half. "I'm glad that it wasn't that big of a threat." Malia said slowly, watching the film.

"Yeah me too." Lydia said, "And it definitely could have ended differently." She said cryptically. Liam grinned.

"Could you imagine if Stiles had been there?" He laughed, the others grinning slightly, "He would have started running his mouth as usual, probably got them to attack us."

Scott grimaced, "He doesn't mean to get us into trouble. He just doesn't know when to shut up sometimes."

Stiles felt his heart sink as Lydia looked to Scott, "Sometimes? Scott, come on, I know he's your best friend and everything, but he's always getting into some kind of trouble. Always getting us into some kind of trouble. We've yet to have one situation where Stiles hasn't made it worse."

Scott was silent for a moment, obviously trying to think of an example where this wasn't the case. "Yeah I guess so." He said quietly before they went back to watching the film.

Stiles couldn't stop the tears running freely down his face now. He had thought all of this, a thousand times over, he knew he wasn't good enough, he knew he was a pain in the ass, knew that he caused too much trouble. But to hear his friends agree with every negative thought he'd ever had, well, it broke his heart.

He opened his eyes and he was back on the table in the cave. Elphaba was looking at him, with something he wanted to say was concern on her face, but he knew it wasn't. He glared at her, "Right, and your point was?" He said angrily.

She reached out to touch his face and he flinched away from her. She leaned over him, pressing her hand against his cheek, her other lifting his t-shirt gently and pressing against the flat panels of his stomach, "My point Stiles, is that they don't care. They're glad you're gone. Why do you have loyalty to people who have no loyalty to you?"

He didn't have an answer for her, but it wasn't in his nature to stay quiet. "They're my family. We don't have to like each other. I'm always going to be loyal to them. It's called having a heart. You wouldn't know what that is I'm sure. To you it's probably just a gaping hole in your chest."

He hadn't really expected the slap across the cheek that split his lip open, he had however, expected the digging in of her fingers and the pain that radiated through his body, making him arch his back in agony, a hoarse scream pulled from his throat before everything faded to black.

John

It had been nearly forty eight hours since he'd first seen Stiles on the screen and nothing had changed. The wolves were all running themselves ragged trying to track Stiles and Leo. John had seen most of the missing people appear to fight at least once. He'd seen Sam, although he wished he hadn't, the boy barely managing to get to his feet before a brutal punch knocked him back to the ground. Sam looked bad. Really bad. On the verge of dying bad. He had cried again after watching that. Dean had fought a few times, seeming to be holding up better than Sam but only marginally, he had been electrocuted and dragged from the cage after winning his fight. Apparently it was the standard procedure for the winners who didn't want to go back to their cages.

The wolves were currently back in the meeting room at the station. They all looked exhausted, but they had found nothing.

Deputy Miller had come in an hour ago filling him in on the little information she had managed to gather.

It had obviously not been enough to settle Malia who had been on edge since seeing Stiles. She'd lost control for a moment, her blue eyes flashing at Miller as she screamed, "It's not enough! Don't you get it? Stiles is missing and you aren't doing enough to find him!"

John had stopped Claire from drawing her weapon, which wouldn't have helped the situation, and now she was sitting in a chair at the table, trying to absorb the fact that werewolves were real.

There was another fight going on, two men, evenly matched, beating each other to a pulp. Malia glanced up at the screen suddenly, and John could practically see her ears twitching, "Stiles." She breathed.

The other wolves looked at the screen then, obviously hearing something that he couldn't. "What's happening?" John demanded, noticing that Lydia was watching with anticipation also.

"He's screaming." Malia said quietly, her eyes flashing again, her claws scratching the table as she gripped it tightly to try and keep control. "They're torturing him." She said quietly.

The room was silent, John never feeling so helpless in his life. He needed to find Stiles. He needed to know that he was alive, that he was okay. He needed his son.

Malia stood up after another moment, almost knocking over her chair in the process. "I'm going to go back out there and find him." She strode out of the room, Scott glancing one at John and then hurrying after her.

"This isn't getting us anywhere." Lydia said sadly.

John couldn't help but nod his head in agreement. It wasn't getting them anywhere and somewhere out there his son was been tortured.

Dean

Dean had been woken by the sound of someone screaming. It took him a moment to realise it was Stiles, knowing the sound of his hoarse screaming from far too much experience. He called out for him, knowing that it was useless, knowing that he was useless. It was a little while later when Stiles was dragged unconscious back past Dean's cage. He'd seen the blonde woman following Stiles and called out to her.

"Hey! Blondie! What have you done to him you bitch?" He growled.

She turned to look at him with surprise written across her face. She looked gleefully at Dean, her face lighting up with excitement, "You are quite a handful aren't you?" She said, observing him before glancing back to Stiles and then back to Dean, "It's a shame that you just aren't quite what I'm after, you don't have the right," she pondered over her wording for a moment, "You don't have the right spark I guess." She grinned before turning away and following behind Stiles again.

Dean tried not to scream after her, knowing it would do no good. He looked across the cave and saw Sam motionless in the cage opposite him. "Sam!" He called out, desperate to see movement from his brother. "Sammy!" He called again, his voice breaking. When there was still no movement from his brother he moved in his cage, not caring that at least a few of his ribs were broken, that his wrist was definitely broken, that he was covered in blood and sweat. He positioned himself so that he could smash his feet into the bars, hoping to break the lock off. The cage rattled a few times and then the guards were coming, the cattle prods already out, Dean was screaming for Sam, begging him to wake up, before the cattle prods did the job they were supposed to do and everything went red with pain before fading to black.

Claire Miller

She looked around the room, looking at the weary face of the Sheriff, the emotionless mask of the banshee, the looks of fear on the various werewolves faces. She'd never thought that the supernatural would be real, that she'd be sat in a room with supernatural creatures. She'd gone home and grabbed a couple of hours sleep, had a quick shower and then she was back at work, trying to figure out the next step.

She knew she didn't have a right to be upset, she'd only met Stiles a few times, but there was something about the kid. He was smart, scarily so, he could figure anything out when he put his mind to it. He was sarcastic, always the smartass. He was loyal, the way he had talked about his dad about how loyal he was, and now that she knew about the supernatural she sensed he'd been even more loyal than she'd given him credit for. They'd spent a few hours together last week, him helping her with the case, and she'd actually relaxed, he'd put her at ease with his endless chattering, she'd smiled more than she had in the weeks previous. He was a good kid and she felt like they'd be great friends one day.

She cared for him, not as much as his family or his friends, but she did care about him, despised the fact that he was been hurt right now and there was nothing she could do about it. She was determined to figure this out, find him, save him. She wouldn't lose him.

"So, I might be wrong here, and it probably wouldn't work, but if you're a banshee," She paused, locking eyes with Lydia, "Can't you tell when somebody is about to die?"

"Yes." Lydia said, her voice full of irritation, "But since Stiles isn't about to die I can't find him!" She said, her voice tight.

"Right, I get that, yeah, but could you not, erm, track somebody else?" Claire persisted.

"Like who?" John asked

"Well, Sir, I hate to say it but your nephew isn't looking too hot, if he's doing badly, then maybe, and I don't get this supernatural stuff so I'm probably wrong, but couldn't Lydia try and find them through Sam?"

Lydia sighed heavily. "Sam might be looking like crap but he's not about to die. Not immediately anyway. Not in the next few hours." She said her voice trailing off.

"Oh, right, okay." Claire said, not knowing how to answer that. She went to her next plan, "And you guys can't get any kind of scent on them?" She said looking to the wolves.

It was Frank who replied, "No. They've got a witch on their side. They could be right under our noses and we wouldn't know they were there."

"Right. Witches." Claire said feeling stupid.

"It's a lot to take in." Scott said looking up at her, "We're doing everything we can, but we can't find him." His voice breaking at the thought of Stiles. "Like Frank said, he could be right under our noses." The conversation trailed off.

There was always a wolf in the room, listening to Stiles screaming in the background, out of the hearing of normal humans. Claire didn't know that it was doing any of them any favours, even know she could see Malia twitching as she listened to Stiles screaming. Claire hated herself for not been able to do more, for having to see them suffering through this and not able to help them.

Stiles

He'd been sat in the cage for god knows how long, he hadn't been able to see Leo, and his newest neighbour wasn't nearly as friendly. He looked like he wanted to kill Stiles. He'd tried to start a conversation with the guys a few times but all he'd got were growls in return. When Stiles had asked him if he was a werewolf the guy had told him to go fuck himself, and then he'd been warned to watch his back in the ring or the guy would do all the fucking for him. Stiles had paled a little at that thought and then remained silent.

But he was bored. Yes he shouldn't say that when every movement sent spirals of pain through his body, but he was used to motion, and right he didn't even have enough space to stand upright, not that he really had the energy. But he hated not been able to move, not been able to do something about this. He always had a plan, he just couldn't think straight yet. All he could think about when he closed his eyes was what the witch had shown him, that his dad and his friends all thought they were better off without him.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the guards appeared at the front of his cage again. For the first time he thought he would rather fight than go back to the witch. He struggled against them half-heartedly, hoping that they would take him left towards the fighting cage. He heard a voice calling his name but it sounded like it was far away, his head felt dizzy, he couldn't' breathe. They turned right towards Elphaba's room and that was enough to throw him into a full blown panic attack. He fought with everything he had, breaking free from one of the guards before he was tacked again and he crashed down to the floor hard.

They dragged him into the room and chained him to the table before leaving. A few minutes later Elphaba came in, her sick smile already in place. "Hello Stiles. How are you feeling today?"

He rolled his eyes. Stupid witches.

She took out a knife and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards when he started to panic.

"Don't worry Stiles. If you behave I won't have to use it." She said simply, stabbing it into the table next to him. He couldn't help but think how easy it would be for her to plunge it into him.

"What do you want Elphaba?" He said eventually, his throat sore from screaming but still unable to resist his usual sarcasm.

"Well, firstly, my name is Catherine, not Elphaba, and I'd appreciate it if you started calling me that." Stiles tried not to laugh, the woman was certified crazy.

"Sure thing Cathy, or do you prefer Cat? Hmm, maybe not, you don't look much like a cat, more like a dog, you know, cuz you're a bitch." He said, the words spewing from his mouth before he could stop himself.

She gripped the knife tightly and placed it against his stomach so he could feel the coldness of the blade against his bare skin. He hated the fact that his breathing hitched, that she would be able to see he was afraid.

Suddenly she grabbed his shirt and cut it open so that after a few more cuts he was shirtless. She slid her hand over his chest and he couldn't help but feel panicked.

"Hands off the merchandise lady."

She merely smiled in return, spreading her hand out as she had done before and digging her fingers into his skin. He knew what was about to happen but it didn't make the pain any more bearable. He gritted his teeth, determined that she wouldn't know how much it was hurting him.

After a moment the pain left him and he opened his eyes, not remembering that he had shut them. She was hovering near his face, "Shall we check in with your family again?"

Without further hesitation she put her hands on either side of his face and he was stood back in his own home.

His dad was sat on one chair, Scott, Lydia, Malia and Liam spread out across the other chairs in the room.

"So he hasn't been with you then?" His dad said, only weariness in his voice.

"No. We've had more important things to do than deal with Stiles' mood swings." Malia said firmly, not nastily, just stating the obvious as she always did.

"When did you last see him?" Hid dad asked again.

"Saturday." Scott replied.

His dad let out a deep breath, pondering over the information before eventually speaking, "We'd had an argument too. He probably just needs some space for a bit. You know what he's like when he's in a mood. He'll calm down eventually."

"It has been three days though. I didn't think Stiles could sulk for that long." Liam said.

"Yeah, well he can be a stubborn shit at times." John replied.

"You think you should put him as one of the missing people?" Lydia asked, his voice devoid of emotion, like she didn't care one way or the other.

"No." His dad said eventually. "This case is big enough without adding Stiles to the list of the missing. He'll be sulking somewhere waiting for one of us to go running to him. And if that's not the case and he is somehow wrapped up in all of this, which wouldn't bloody surprise me, then I don't know." John sighed heavily.

"Well, we won't going chasing after him then. He can come back when he's calmed down and then we can tell him that he won't be part of the pack anymore." Scott said quietly.

"What?" Stiles spluttered, knowing that they couldn't hear him.

"Alright, I can't say I blame you. He's hard work. Has been even harder work since all this supernatural crap started happening. He thinks he knows everything and he doesn't, and all it does it get people killed. Sometimes I don't even recognize him as my son anymore." John said, tears welling up in his eyes.

Scott put a comforting hand on John's shoulder but all Stiles could do was to stand there and watch the scene unfold. They were going to kick him out of the pack, his father didn't want anything to do with him.

The tears were sliding down his cheeks as he opened his eyes again, Catherine was stood looking at him, an odd amusement on her face.

"Fuck you." He said, knowing that his voice didn't carry the usual defiance. She smiled again, placing her hand back on his stomach and then filling his world with pain.

When he stopped screaming he gazed back at her, trying to figure out what she wanted. "Fine, I get it, my dad doesn't want me around, my friends don't want me around. I get it. You don't need to tell me again. But I'm here for my cousins. I will fight you with everything I have to protect them." He said, trying to control his breathing as she played with the knife against his skin.

"I'm sure you will. But they wouldn't do the same for you." She said mysteriously before disappearing through the door.

Dean

Dean glared up at the woman outside of his cage. He'd seen Stiles been dragged back into her room, saw how effort he had put into getting free, knew that nothing good would await Stiles in there. But now she was out here, looking at Dean in puzzlement.

"What do you want bitch?" He said, not caring about what punishment might befall him. She grinned evilly at him before motioning for the guards to get him from his cage. As soon as he was upright the woman placed her fingertips against his temples. He felt a shudder run through him, heard the echo of a laugh in his brain and he cursed, a fucking witch was running around in his brain, fucking brilliant!

He was been dragged towards the room, whatever he had expected it wasn't to see Stiles chained up a table, bruises and cuts covering most of his body and what looked like a handprint burned across his stomach. But what hurt the most was the look of despair in his eyes, he looked heart broken. Dean wanted to go to him, comfort him, whatever he needed to make sure that Stiles would be okay. But he found himself held in place by the guards.

"Leave him alone." Stiles said, his voice shaky.

"I'm not going to hurt him." The witch said. "I just want to ask him a few questions." She grinned, smirking at Dean as he tried to curse her but he found he couldn't get the words out of his throat.

"Catherine." Stiles said quietly, "Please, leave him alone."

Dean hated how wrecked Stiles sounded, he wasn't holding up well. Dean would take his place in a second, anything to protect his cousin. He wanted to tell him that it would be okay. That he'd find a way to get them all out of here, but again, the words dried up before getting out of his mouth.

"Dean isn't it?" Catherine asked.

He nodded, seemingly unable to speak, all he could do would be to glare as she approached him.

"I'm going to put a spell on you. A truth spell. You won't be able to say anything except the truth." He glared at her. She'd already put some kind of spell on him. She turned to look at Stiles, "See, I promise Stiles. It won't hurt him." She pressed her fingers against his forehead again and Dean heard her laugh louder this time.

He knew for a fact that she was controlling him, he wouldn't be able to speak a god damn word that she didn't want him to speak. He growled at her but she just smiled back at him, seemingly pleased with her level of her manipulation.

"Dean, Stiles here thinks that you'd do anything to protect him, just like he'd do anything for you and Sam. Is that right? Would you do anything for him?" Dean wanted to nod, agree that yes of course he would, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Instead he could feel another word forming on his lips, and as much as he fought against it he couldn't stop his mouth from saying:

"No."

Catherine stood with her back to Stiles, looking at him with amusement. She had forced him to say that. Whatever she had done to him it wasn't a truth spell. He looked to Stiles who seemed to be fighting against tears. Catherine turned to Stiles her lips drawn down into a frown.

"I'm really sorry to hear that Dean." She placed her hand over the handprint on Stiles' stomach, her hand fitting it perfectly before suddenly Stiles was arching up in pain, a scream torn from his throat.

Dean wanted to kill her, but he couldn't even move. The anger was swelling inside her, how dare she use his words to hurt Stiles? Especially when they weren't his words, they were hers, torn from his voice.

Eventually she removed her hand and Stiles blinked sluggishly, trying to register that it was over for now.

"You see Stiles, Dean wouldn't protect you. You shouldn't protect him."

Stiles just glared at her, "Fuck you." He said his breathing harsh, and Dean felt his heart swell with pride, yeah, that was his cousin right there.

"Alright, let's try this a different way." Catherine said, turning back to Dean, "What about something simple? If I said you had to do something simple to protect Stiles would you do it then?"

Of course Dean thought, but obviously that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"Depends on what you mean by simple."

"Well," She said coming closer to him, pressing her body against his, he couldn't help but feel repulsed, "If I were to say something like, a kiss, one simple singular kiss, nothing more, no tricks, no twists, and I won't ever lay another hand on him. Would you do it then?"

Absolutely, Dean thought. "Not a chance." Left his mouth. Catherine grinned at him, turning back towards Stiles.

Her hand was placed against his stomach again and Dean could see the tears forming in Stiles eyes. A raw, torn, hoarse scream echoed around the room as Stiles was tortured again, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Dean wanted to cry right along with him, instead he stood silently, unable to speak his mind, unable to move, unable to deny the accusations. He hated himself in that moment. Stiles was been hurt because of him, because he wasn't strong enough to fight through this bitches spell.

She let go of Stiles again and Dean could see the hurt in his eyes, how could he even begin to explain this? How could he ever fix this?

"Take him back to his cage now. I'm done with him." Catherine said dismissing him.

Dean managed to glance back at Stiles before the door shut and he was shoved back in to his cage.

He had never felt so wretched in his life. He was fairly sure he had just hurt his cousin beyond repair.

Stiles

He had lost all track of time. He had no idea how long he had been here, and he was really beginning to doubt a rescue was coming. He had fought a few more times, beating his opponents, finding a resolve of strength somewhere inside him that refused to take this lying down. Of course the fact that they were now making him fight shirtless just added to his determination, the fact that they all looked at him as if he was weak, it just made him more determined to be strong. Occasionally he got to sleep in one of the cages in the room with the fire and he appreciated it because it kept the shivers at bay.

He had seen Sam, Dean and even Leo a few times, but he never answered their voices and he passed by their cages. How could he? He wanted to hear worry in their voices, wanted to hear concern, but he knew it wasn't that. They didn't care. He couldn't let himself believe anything else, he couldn't believe that they cared about him, because it would hurt all the more when it was proved again that they couldn't care less.

Catherine tortured him several times, each time showing him how his dad and the pack were managing so well without him. And they were, Stiles couldn't deny it, they seemed to be flourishing now he wasn't around messing things up all the time.

"What do you want from me?" He said, his voice breaking, he didn't know how long he had been here. He couldn't even tell how many times she had tortured him, his mind had just become filled with pain and despair, and something deeper, something that he couldn't place.

Catherine perched on the table next to him, stroking his cheek, looking at him almost lovingly. "I don't want to have to keep hurting you Stiles. I want one thing from you. I want you to stop protecting your family and your friends. They don't deserve your love."

Stiles took a moment to process her words. "Why?" He croaked out.

"That's not important." She replied.

Stiles grimaced, knowing he was only letting himself in for more pain. But he knew what she wanted now, even if he didn't know why, she wanted him to stop protecting them, well he wouldn't. It didn't matter that they wouldn't do the same for him. That wasn't how loyalty worked. You didn't stop loving people just because it turns out they don't love you. You didn't stop caring about them. And he wasn't going to stop protecting them, even though he wasn't one hundred percent sure how he was protecting them exactly.

"I won't." He said finally, already expecting the pain that shot through his body as she snarled at him angrily.

Scott

Scott had been watching the screen for the past few minutes, ever since the voice had said that Stiles would be fighting again soon. He was waiting to see the state of his best friend, wanting to know that he was still alive.

Scott was exhausted, and considering he was a werewolf that didn't need as much sleep as normal people and always had extra energy, that was really saying something. He was so tired he was struggling to keep his eyes open, but every time he felt them start to shut he thought again of Stiles, his best friend, who was been tortured and beaten and the entire time Scott was useless. He couldn't find him. The knowledge brought tears to his eyes, no matter what he did, he couldn't find Stiles, and the last thing he had said to him was that it was Stiles' fault that people got hurt. He had never hated himself more.

He glanced around the room, it was late at night, it had been six days since Stiles was taken and the others were having just as much trouble with all of this as he was. John had never looked more weary and yet his eyes were still fixed on the screen, Lydia seemed to be holding herself together pretty well until Scott breathed in her scent, it reeked of anger and fear, Liam was sleeping in his chair, the dark bruises under his eyes indicating just how exhausted he was. Malia was still out searching, Scott didn't want to tell her it was useless, he was scared she was going to run herself into exhaustion, but when he'd suggested she take a break she had growled at him, she couldn't sit still, couldn't sit and do nothing while Stiles was been hurt. He'd understood what she meant, couldn't help but agree with her, but in the end his exhaustion had given in and he'd come back to the station, determined to figure out another way.

Percy was staring at him with the same worry in his eyes, Frank had stayed out searching with Malia and Jason was resting his head on the table opposite Lydia, obviously resting up while he could. They needed a new plan. Claire had informed them an hour ago that there was no way to track where the signal was broadcasting from. They'd tried everything, they couldn't get a location on it. They knew it was in the state but that was it, and that wasn't really news, the wolves had figured that one out themselves.

"We need a new plan." Lydia said quietly to the room, her eyes never leaving the screen at the end of the table.

"Stiles always came up with the plans." Scott said sadly

"Well, Stiles isn't here. We need to come up with something else. Stiles is depending on us." Lydia said firmly.

The screen suddenly announced that the fight was due to start and they all watched as both opponents were pushed into the room.

Scott had to fight to stop himself from been sick; Stiles had been shoved shirtless into the cage, his torso covered in cuts and bruises and blood, but the thing that made him so nauseous was the handprint that was burned clearly into his lower stomach. Stiles looked at the cameras and Scott felt the tears running down his cheeks, his friends eyes were not their usual vibrant whiskey brown, not full of the usual warmth, amusement, laughter, instead they were dull, dark, closed off, as if everything that made up Stiles was been slowly drained away, there was still a spark of defiance in his eyes and Scott clung onto that.

He watched as Stiles turned to face his opponent, throwing him a quick grin. The guy was at least twice the size of Stiles and looked to generally be in better shape, not like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

"I told you I'd fuck you up boy." The man said grinning at Stiles.

"Actually," Stiles said, stepping slowly around the cage and still smiling ferally at the guy, "I think the words you actually used were that you'd fuck me. Which, hey, I guess it's a compliment, I always figured I was attractive to gay guys, even though my friend Danny said I wasn't his type. But still, I suppose I should take the compliment that you want to fuck me, although you don't really strike me as gay, but hey it takes all sorts to make the world go round…"

"Shut your mouth!" The guy roared, lashing out a fist at Stiles.

Stiles dogged it easily, "Wow, you are so slow dude. And also, got to be honest, don't think you really get the gay thing if you're suggesting I shut my mouth. You know because it's not much use then."

The guy lashed out again, and again Stiles sidestepped, "Are you going to fight me or just talk to me until I quit?"

Stiles grinned, not caring that it cracked open his split lip, "Well, I know which one I'd prefer, but I somehow have this feeling that it's not really an option."

When the guy swung this time, Stiles ducked under his punch and landed one of his own straight to the guys jaw. He went down hard. Stiles looked to the guy on the floor and then his own fist, "Huh." He said casually as if knocking out giants was something he did all the time.

Scott looked around the room, eyes wide, seeing the rest of the room stare at the screen in disbelief.

Two guards entered the cage and Stiles took a step back, making sure he was out of reach of their cattle prods. He watched as two others dragged his opponent from the ring and then they came at him. Stiles dogged the first cattle prod, smacked away the second and then managed to land a punch to the first guys face.

He landed on top of the guy as he went down and Stiles punched him again, only stopping when a cattle prod got him square in the back. He tensed up and then suddenly there were guards dragging him off the first guard, kicking at him as he lay helpless on the floor.

There was so much blood and Scott couldn't stop himself from throwing up this time. He ran from the room and to the toilets, throwing up everything he had managed to eat in the past few hours. By the time he got back to the main room the cage was empty, just a large puddle of blood on the floor. He couldn't bring himself to look at it. Instead he looked at the tear stained faces on the people around the room. He stared at Lydia, hating what he was about to ask.

"Is he….?" He left the question unfinished as Lydia turned to glare at him

"No. He's not close enough to death for me to feel it." She said, hatred for her powers evident in her tone.

Claire

She'd left the station not long after the latest fight. She'd been there far too long and her body was calling out for rest. She didn't want to, she wanted to stay until they'd cracked the case and Stiles was home, but she couldn't. She needed to sleep, if only for an hour or two.

She didn't even make it to her bed, she locked the front door behind her and fell gracelessly into the soft couch. She was asleep before she'd even kicked her shoes off.

She woke up to the sounds of the birds singing and knew that she'd slept much longer than she wanted to. She sat up quickly, head feeling clearer than it had done in days, she rushed up the stairs and had a quick shower, finally feeling like a human again. She glanced at the pile of dirty washing that she hadn't touched and knew she had no clean uniforms left. She grabbed a clean t-shirt and threw on some jeans. She grabbed her badge and shoved it in her pocket, it felt wrong to be without it. She knew the Sheriff was more worried about finding Stiles than her uniform, and she needed to get back to work. She put on her hip holster and threw a jacket over it before heading back to the station.

Malia

Malia hated the fact that she could still feel Stiles and yet she couldn't use the feeling to track him down. She could barely control herself most of the time, she'd lost her anchor. She'd tried to anchor herself, tried to figure out how to control it herself, but all she'd been able to focus on was the fact that Stiles was hurt and she wasn't doing anything about her, which just got her more upset and angry and she got closer to losing control.

It didn't help been in the station, surrounded by people who were all feeling just as useless. She only had one thought over and over, Stiles, Stiles, need to find Stiles, Stiles. She was so lost without him, and not in a romantic way, they'd tried things out, they'd split up, it wasn't the end of the world. Malia knew she loved him, not in the same way as Lydia, obviously she knew that, she could smell it and it didn't smell the same way Scott did, or John did when they were with Stiles. No, Lydia smelt softer but also harder, like she loved Stiles but didn't want to. Malia shook her head at the thought, what kind of person wouldn't want to admit they loved somebody? Especially when it was Stiles, who was all kinds of awesome.

She'd been running non-stop for too long, but she couldn't stop. She had to find Stiles, and if her mind had time to think about Stiles and Lydia together then she wasn't paying enough attention and she could miss something and then she might miss Stiles.

She glanced back to see that Jason and Percy had appeared next to Frank, the guy had told her he needed to rest and then promptly sank to the floor and gone to sleep. Malia hadn't been completely heartless, she'd at least called in backup to watch him while she kept searching.

"You need to rest." A voice called out to her. She glanced back and saw Percy coming towards her with wide eyes.

"I don't need to." She snarled back.

"Malia, you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up." He said calmly, taking a step towards her.

"I can't." She replied, feeling like she was on the brink of falling apart.

"You can. It'll be okay." Percy said, only a few steps away from her now.

"Didn't you hear me?!" She screamed "I can't. I can't stop. I need to find him." She said, trying to hold herself together.

"We'll find him." Percy said taking the final step to her and pulling her into a hug.

Malia broke down in his arms, unable to stop herself from sobbing. Stiles was hurt and there was nothing she could do. She cried until the world started to fade around her and she fell asleep.

Stiles

He woke up tied to the table, they hadn't even thrown him back in a cage, just kicked the crap out of him and then shoved him in here with the witch. Still, he felt a slight swell of pride that he'd managed to get in a few punches of his own, it nearly made it worth it. Catherine appeared out of the darkness a moment later, a grim smile on her face. Stiles hated her, of course he was afraid of her, of course he knew she was about to torture him again, try to get him to stop loving the people he cared about, so logically he knew it was okay to be scared of her, but he hated her, a deep well of anger that roared inside him every time he saw her. He knew it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference though, the only time he had allowed his anger to show she had punished him worse than anything before. So he kept himself as neutral as possible, it was the only way he knew now, he was protecting himself in a careful bubble of neutrality.

"Good evening sweetheart." She said running her hands along his cheek and his chest. He tried not to flinch away as she pressed against his injuries, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a bus." He said casually, "But I'm sure you already knew that." She grinned at him.

"I did indeed." She paused, staring at his body in a way that made him feel incredibly uncomfortably, she obviously picked up on his discomfort and laughed, "Come now Stiles, don't be getting all shy on me. Enough people have already seen this, you shouldn't shy away now."

He glared at her, "What do you mean?"

She smiled, flashing her teeth, "Haven't you figured it out yet? I thought you were supposed to be smart?"

Stiles didn't reply that he'd suffered from multiple blows to the head since he'd been here and had to fight and of course he'd been tortured, it was kind of understandable that his brain was not firing on all cylinders. Not to mention the fact that most of the time when his brain felt like functioning it was a repeat of whatever Catherine had shown him that day, Scott saying he wasn't part of the pack, his dad seemingly not bothered about his son, or having Dean confess that he couldn't give a fuck about Stiles. He thinks he'd be forgiven for not knowing what the hell Catherine was on about.

"Come on Stiles, I really thought you'd have figured it out by now. I'll give you a hint if you like." She was running her hands along his body, brushing against the waist of his jeans. She did something he'd not expected then, and that really was saying something, she leaned close to him, he could feel her hot breath on his neck, and then she was licking and sucking and biting at his neck. He felt physically sick, knowing that she was putting her mark on him, he wanted to throw up.

"Think about the cameras." She whispered as she nibbled on his earlobe.

Stiles tried to block out what she was doing and actually think about what she had said, the cameras, they were obviously filming the fights, and plenty of people had seen him shirtless, okay that was straightforward enough, somebody was filming the fights and people were watching them. But how? It clicked a moment later and if he'd had his hands free he would have smacked himself for his stupidity.

Catherine laughed, "Finally got it have you?" She said pulling away from him.

"You're filming the fights, and you're broadcasting it on the internet, where people can log on to a website and watch." He spat out, anger flooding through his veins.

"See, I knew you'd get it eventually." She said condescendingly. "Although I don't like the tone you're using with me Stiles."

He only growled in return, how could they do this? How could people watch this? Knowing that they were here against their will. It wasn't right how twisted people could be. He expected the pain that roared through his body as soon as she placed her hand on his stomach, but he felt the justified anger rushing through him, blocking out the worse of the pain. She couldn't believe he was still awake, she snarled as she pushed more of her power into the spell, forcing him to scream in agony. It gave her all kinds of good feelings when he screamed like that.

Stiles felt his body giving up, saw the darkness around the edge of his vision, he was losing consciousness, his body telling him that he couldn't take any more. It stopped suddenly and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. It only lasted momentarily before he saw Catherine appear before him with a knife in her hand and a grim smile on her face.

"This will only hurt a little Stiles. I just need to send a message." She said as she placed one hand on his chest, stopping him from moving and used the other to start carving a word into his chest. He might not have been able to move but he could scream, and he did. He wasn't proud of it but he'd even begged, begged her to stop as he felt the blood running down his sides.

Eventually the world darkened around him.

He woke up and he was back in a cage, every small movement sending a wave of agony through him. He tried not to think about that, instead he tried to think about the fact that the cameras were filming the fights, that if Miller had managed to hack into the website then they'd be able to see the fights. He could get a message out, if he knew where he was, and if they'd hacked it. It was a lot of 'ifs' but he felt a spark of hope inside him. He would get them out of this.

John

He'd never felt quite so useless as when he'd had to watch his son fight, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

He'd never felt so useless until he heard Stiles scream, he didn't have supernatural hearing and he'd heard his son screaming. It sounded like somebody was murdering him and he glanced at Lydia who shook her head minutely, her face white with horror.

The screams had stopped shortly after and John had fought the urge to be sick, his son was suffering through this, he had to stay strong for Stiles.

He watched as another fight began a few minutes later, wondering why he never heard anyone else scream? Why it only seemed to be Stiles that they were torturing? He decided he'd ask them himself when he saw them, right before he killed them.

Leo

Leo flinched when the screams started, tears filling his eyes as he heard Stiles beg the witch to stop. He couldn't bear to listen to it, he wanted to cover his ears, try and block it out, but it didn't seem fair. If Stiles had to suffer through it then so would he. Not that he'd been able to get Stiles to talk recently.

He'd seen them drag his cousin into the witches room, seen his come out a few minutes later, his eyes full of unshed tears, a look of horror on his ashen face, and guilt coming off him in waves. He'd seen the guy scream at Stiles when the guards eventually dragged him through the room, but either Stiles was out for the count or he was in shock because he didn't even seem to hear his cousin's voice.

When Leo had tried to talk to Stiles they'd dosed him up with more wolfsbane and Leo was sure he'd been living in a world of hallucinations for the past however long.

Then the screaming started again and he'd winced. He didn't know what Stiles had done to draw the attention of the witch but he'd never felt so helpless. He howled as Stiles screamed, it wasn't much, he knew that his pack wouldn't hear him, but he hoped Stiles would, hoped that Stiles would realize he wasn't alone in this. That he had Leo.

They'd thrown Stiles in the cage across the room from Leo, he could smell the blood, watched the tremors of pain than ran through Stiles, he didn't know what had happened, couldn't know why the witch had suddenly changed tactics but it felt like she'd broken something in Stiles. Except, and Leo really couldn't figure out why, Stiles smelled of something resembling hope. He hoped the kid wasn't hopeful about dying. He hoped that Stiles had found a way out that didn't involve death.

He wanted to ask, but he didn't have the strength. He closed his eyes and slept.

Claire

She was driving towards the station again, this was only the third time that she'd been home this week and she'd managed a few hours of restless sleep before getting back in her car. She saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar waving for her to stop so she pulled over to the edge of the curb and got out of the car.

"Oh Deputy Miller. I'm so glad I caught you."

"Right, do you need some help?" Claire asked, finally placing her as the woman that worked in the diner near the station.

"No, no of course not." The woman said shaking her head, seeming to be quite distressed. "It's about Stiles."

Claire froze in shock, it had been two weeks since Stiles was taken, they'd seen him beaten and bloodied, and most recently, horribly, the word 'Mine' had been carved into his chest. The Sheriff had thrown up at that one, as had most of the pack. Claire had excused herself and gone home to cry herself to sleep. She was sure her eyes were still red and puffy.

"What about Stiles?" She said immediately, hoping against hope that this was a lead.

"Well, I've only just heard he's missing you see. I've been away on holiday and I came back last night and then, well, Mrs Damner from the shop told me that he's been missing for nearly two weeks."

"Right." Claire said, trying not to feel disappointed, the woman didn't know anything, just offer her condolences to the Sheriff.

"But you see the thing is, I followed him out of town. Two weeks ago. The day he disappeared. I was driving behind him until he pulled off."

Claire stared at the woman in shock, maybe this was a good thing, maybe she could find his jeep, some kind of lead.

"It was definitely Stiles?" She asked nervously

"Of course. I'd know that jeep anywhere. He pulled into a diner about thirty miles north of here, you know the one off the old road, with the motel opposite?"

Claire did know exactly where she was talking about.

"I didn't know he was missing, otherwise I would have said something sooner. But I'm sure it was him." The woman said in earnest.

Claire nodded her head, thanking the woman as she headed back to her car. She spun her car around and headed out in the direction the woman had told her. It was probably nothing, nobody would have seen Stiles. She wasn't going to give John any false hope.

She drove quickly, her fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel to try ad sooth her nerves.

When she arrived at the diner she went in instantly, a picture of Stiles in her hand, none of the workers had seen Stiles, and they didn't recall the jeep. She couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh, she knew it had been too good to be true.

"Do you mind if I leave this here? If anyone recognizes him if they could call me?" She said holding out the picture.

A man leaned across from his seat at the bar, glancing at the picture.

"Ain't that the boy who was here the other week?" He said quietly.

Claire could have kissed him.

"Did you see him? Did you see where he went?"

The man looked at her, then looked at the picture again, before nodding.

"Yeah I saw him. Heard him too. He was across the road hollering at the manager of the motel."

Claire raised her eyebrows in confusion but couldn't help the relief, this was a lead she was sure.

"Don't ask me what about, I don't know, it didn't make much sense, something about his cousins were in the room but they wouldn't come out. I didn't pay much attention to it really, I was starving. The manager let him in the room and then things quietened down so I figured he'd calmed down. I came in here had some tea and didn't see him again."

Claire hugged him tightly, not caring that it wasn't professional. She thanked him repeatedly before rushing out of the diner and running across to the motel.

Dean

Dean glanced across the room, keeping an eye on Sam as best he could. Sam wasn't in a good place, but he was still breathing and that was the only reason Dean could relax even slightly. He had to think about Sam, because when he didn't think of Sam he thought of Stiles, and god did that hurt. The look on the kids face when Dean had said he wouldn't protect him, he wanted to scream, not because Stiles believe it, but because of how easily he believed it. Had Dean done such a bad job looking out for him that Stiles genuinely believed Dean wouldn't do anything for him?

He leaned back against the cage, hating the fact that Stiles was with the witch again. He hadn't heard any screaming this time, but he wasn't sure that Stiles still had the energy to scream. He'd seen the guards dragging Stiles back to a cage a while ago, seen the word brutally carved into his chest, no wonder he'd screamed, hell, Dean had screamed over less.

This mess was all his fault, Sam was hurt and Dean was hurt and Stiles was been tortured, and he was completely and utterly useless. Worse was the fact that Dean couldn't seem to get through to Stiles, no matter how much he called out to him, it was like Stiles was stuck in his own world. He wished Sam was more with it, his brother was better with words, his brother would get through to Stiles he was sure. There was just the serious downside of Sammy barely gaining consciousness the last few days, and yes he said days, although really he had no idea it had been, it could have only been hours, but it felt much longer than that.

They needed to find a way to escape from here, but he barely had the energy left to fight in the ring, never mind fight off the guards long enough to get Sam and Stiles out of here. And, yes, he was probably selfish for thinking that, but Sam and Stiles were the most important people here, to him anyway, he needed to get them out first. Then he'd come back for the others if he had the strength. He just needed to figure out where they were and how to get out of here.

He looked across and saw Sam staring at him and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Heya Sammy, how you doing?"

Sam blinked at him, and then rolled his eyes and Dean couldn't help but stifle a laugh, how could Sam be so sarcastic without even saying a word?

"Stiles?" Sam questioned, his voice rough with disuse.

It took Dean a moment to find the words, how could he tell Sam how bad it was, what he'd done, what was happening to Stiles, without falling apart.

"He's still here." Dean said quietly.

He glanced around the cave again, wishing he could see Stiles, wishing that he was close enough that Sam would be able to speak to Stiles, make him listen.

"How bad is it?" Sam said again, the effort it was taking him to speak made Dean feel sick, his brother was badly injured and there was nothing he could do about it.

"You're going to be fine Sammy." He said reassuringly. Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes again, a look that said, god why did you give me this moron for a brother?

"Not me. Stiles." He said finally, his eyes shining.

Dean didn't want to tell him but he was sure Sam must have heard some of the screams at least.

"It's bad." He said eventually, not wanting to hide the truth from Sam. "But he'll be fine, just like you kiddo."

Sam sighed heavily, finally showing signs of movement as he sat up carefully in his cage.

"You've always been a shitty liar Dean." Sam said, coughing over his words.

Dean couldn't help but feel a little offended, he was a very good liar thank you very much. He was about to say as much when two guards wandered past them and glared at them both. Dean was going to make a sarcastic comment but he needed to keep his strength up, which meant keeping a low a profile as possible.

He watched as the guards moved into the next room and heard them opening a cage, there was only silence, whoever it was they were releasing had obviously stopped fighting them.

Stiles was been held between the two guards but he seemed to be walking under his own steam which Dean was grateful for. He heard Sam's gasp of horror as he took in the word carved into Stiles chest, the handprint burned into his stomach, the cuts and bruises that littered his body, and oddly what looked like a hickey on his neck.

Dean slammed into the bars as hard as he could, "Let go of him!" He screamed, his voice hoarse. He could hear Sam echoing the sentiment, but Stiles didn't seem to register either of them were there. Instead he was looking around the room, as if trying to take in every little detail, and before he knew it Stiles had disappeared around the corner towards the fighting cage.

He couldn't help but let out a little sigh of relief, that his cousin was been taken to fight rather than to the witch, it wasn't exactly a good thing, but it was still better than having to listen to her torture him again.

Dean didn't know what the witch was getting from it, other than hurting Stiles, but why Stiles? Why not one of the other thirty plus people here? Why him? Why only him? He closed his eyes trying to prevent the headache that was building, instead he just saw Stiles again, chained to the table, his pale body covered in cuts and his eyes burning with unshed tears as Dean failed to defend him. Dean was too weak to even fight off a witch. He despised himself.

Stiles

Stiles had eventually figured out where he was and when it had finally clicked he had laughed solidly for a good ten minutes. He was sure that everyone had thought he had finally lost the plot, and really he couldn't blame them, but the thing was, it was funny. He was probably only five miles from the old Hale house.

The search parties must have been pretty damn weak if they hadn't found any of them yet, unless of course Catherine had some kind of spell around them, which yeah, okay, maybe she did. But still, the wolves should have been able to smell them, hell, even he could smell the despair in this place. Which meant the wolves weren't out looking for them.

He'd pretty much figured that out with what Catherine had shown him, his dad still working hard on the case of all the missing people, he'd even decided to put Sam and Dean on the list now, but he was determined that Stiles was just having a strop somewhere and would be back when he was ready, not that John was ready to forgive him. He'd practically told Scott that Stiles wasn't welcome in his home until he grew up. Scott had promised to tell him that if he saw Stiles before John did. Stiles thought about that one a lot, the fact that his dad thought he would just run off, that his dad thought he was a child, that even if he escaped from here he didn't have a home to go to.

The pack however were taking things easy, they were relaxed, having fun, laughing almost constantly. There was no stress, no nerves, no pressure, now that there was no Stiles making a mess of anything. He hated that they were doing so well without him, that they weren't even looking for him, but he couldn't blame them. He was a pain in the ass, he knew that, he just thought that they hadn't been bothered by it, that they still enjoyed having him around even though he was annoying. He had been so wrong.

Yes, he was heartbroken, Catherine had shown him exactly what he needed to see, and in a way he appreciated it, he knew that they didn't need him now. But he also knew that she wanted him to stop protecting them, he thought she wanted to go after them, but she couldn't while he protected them. Which meant that no matter how much it hurt that they didn't want him, he still had to protect them. Otherwise Catherine would hurt them too, he knew she would.

He didn't know why she didn't just go after them anyway, sure that his protection wasn't that special, he was powerless after all. But apparently that wasn't something she was willing to explain. He'd screamed for hours that day.

So now he knew where he was, and he knew how to tell people where they were, but he had no idea if he'd be able to get a message out. He'd decided the next fight he'd put the information out there as casually as possible and hope that someone watching figured it out and told them where they were. It wasn't his best plan but it was the only one he had.

Claire

She'd strode across the road determined to find a solid lead on Stiles before she called the Sheriff, she wasn't about to give any of them false hope when she knew how close they all were to falling apart.

"Excuse me, I'd like to speak to the manager." She said flashing her badge.

The woman behind the desk looked up at her, noticed her badge, swallowed audibly and then called out to the back room.

"Jerry, the police are here to see you."

Jerry came out of the room a moment later, a large man, broad shoulders and big arms, he looked to be in his mid-thirties, and in reasonable fitness, apart from the fact that he was very pale and sweat was breaking out on his brow.

"Yes, erm," He glanced at her badge, "Deputy, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for this boy." She said holding up the picture of Stiles. Jerry glanced at the picture, back at the girl sat at the desk and then motioned for Claire to come to the back room.

She sat down in the small office, her knee tapping nervously, she wanted to find Stiles, no, she needed to find Stiles.

"So Jerry, do you recognize him?" She said as soon as he sat down in his seat.

"I guess maybe. He looks familiar, can't quite place him though, maybe I saw him around." Jerry said, Claire picked up that the guy was very nervous, more nervous than he had the right to be if he'd just seen Stiles. He was hiding something.

"Funny, I have a witness who can place him at your motel the day he disappeared. And the witness saw him with you." She said coldly, watching as he started to sweat even more, this guy was shifty as hell.

"Erm," He looked at the picture again, "Well, yeah, maybe I do recognize him actually. I mean, maybe, and this is definitely a maybe, I couldn't say for sure you understand. But maybe, I saw this kid. A couple of weeks back some kid starts pounding on one of my doors, so I go out to confront him, find out what's going on. Anyway I manage to calm the kid down and then he went off back to his car and I didn't see him again. And hell, it could well be that kid." He said looking again at the picture.

"Funny that I don't believe you." She said, no there was something seriously wrong here, something that she was missing.

"How did you calm him down?" She asked.

"Erm, well," The guy stammered, "I showed him the room, there wasn't anyone in there. He left not long afterwards."

"Who did he think was in the room?" She said quickly, knowing she was going to catch this guy out.

"Erm, his cousins I think."

"And why did he think that his cousins were in the room?"

"Well, apparently there car was outside."

"Apparently? It either was or it wasn't." She demanded

"There was a car outside. I don't know who it belonged to."

"But it could have been his cousin's car?"

"I suppose." Jerry said cautiously.

"So, just so I've got this straight. This kid, who is known for been persistent in even the smallest of things, finds his cousins car, his cousins who he believes are missing, he then demands to see their room, and you let him. He sees they aren't there and he leaves. But he doesn't call anyone and tell them? Doesn't call his dad the sheriff? Doesn't call any of his friends? Just goes back to his car and then disappears off the face of the earth? That sounds a little bit strange to me."

Jerry sat in silence and Claire glared at him.

"If I was him," She continued, leaning over the desk, "I'd call my dad, tell him that he had to come out here immediately, that he'd found their car but no sign of them, and I wouldn't leave. Not until either they showed up or my dad did. No way would I go get in my car and drive off. Not a chance. Stiles wouldn't do that." She paused, watching the sweat running down Jerry's face now.

"So I'll ask you this just once and you best answer me truthfully, what the hell did you do to Stiles and where is he?" She demanded, her voice full of anger, making her sound as dangerous as possible.

There was a quick knock on the door and Jerry seemed to sag in relief.

"Come in." He called quickly, his voice cracking.

A man equally as large as Jerry came into the room, suddenly making it a very tight squeeze.

"You called boss?" He asked politely. Jerry nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, Barry, great, come in. I'd like you to meet Deputy Miller. She's here about a missing boy." He said slowly, staring at Barry.

Claire looked from Jerry to Barry and she felt her heart racing. They'd done something to Stiles, she knew it, they were wrapped up in this somehow, and she'd come out here, without telling anyone where she was, without even letting them know about a possible lead. Her heart rate accelerated and she reached quickly for her gun.

Barry grabbed her quickly knocking her to the floor and pinning her in place.

"What do you want me to do with her boss?" Barry asked, and Claire couldn't help but panic slightly, were they about to kill her?

"Stick her in the pits. I'm sure there's some down there that would love to spend some time with a proper woman." Jerry laughed, wiping the sweat from his face, seeming to relax now that the problem was solved.

"You're not going to get away with this." She said, knowing Stiles would smack her for using such a cliché. "They'll come looking for me. I promise you, you are a dead man." She said glaring at him before a fist connected with her jaw and everything went dark.

Lydia

She wasn't sure why she was at the station again. She'd been here almost non-stop over the past few weeks, and when she wasn't here she was out searching with the wolves, or more often than not, sleeping in Stiles' room.

In fairness the whole pack seemed to be there, and she included Percy, Jason and Frank in that. It was odd that despite the fact they didn't know Stiles they still seemed to take some comfort in his room. Lydia wouldn't admit that she slept with a hoodie of Stiles' just because it still smelt faintly of him and it made her relax enough to sleep.

The Sheriff hadn't had an issue with it, seeming to revel in having a full house, as if it somehow made it easier to deal with the fact that his son wasn't there.

She was currently sat in the meeting room, the screen still playing beside her, another fight just finishing up. She'd seen Dean take a few heavy hits, but he'd still beaten his opponent eventually, she wasn't sure how he was holding up, although it seemed better than Sam, who she hadn't seen fight in two days, and Stiles, who'd appeared yesterday afternoon with an odd look of relief on his face before having a vicious fight with his opponent. Stiles had barely even got to say two words before the guy had been on him. Eventually Stiles went down and stayed down, but it had to be the longest fifteen minutes of her life. They hadn't seen him since.

The Sheriff was currently on the phone but from the sounds of the end of his conversation he wasn't having much luck.

"Damn it Winchester. Listen to me…" The Sheriff sighed as it was obvious that the man wasn't listening to him.

"I don't care about a ghost hunt at the other end of the country…"

"I don't care if you've got a wendigo to hunt either…."

"I'm trying to tell you Sam and Dean…"

"No I know you're sons can take care of themselves…"

"Would you just listen to me for one…"

"You are an ass Winchester. Would you just shut up for one minute…"

"Fuck you Winchester." The Sheriff said dramatically before ending the call and nearly throwing the phone against the wall in rage.

"I guess that he wasn't exactly willing to listen to you." Lydia said quietly, wishing that Dean's dad could have seen the state of his sons yesterday.

"No. Apparently his time is important. His sons are fine. And he's got a god damn wendigo to hunt down after he's finished his latest ghost hunt. Not to mention he's still trying to track the demon that killed his wife. Apparently we are not high on his list of priorities." John raged.

Lydia didn't really have a reply for that, other than the obvious retort that John Winchester was an ass, but the Sheriff had already covered that point.

"How's everyone holding up?" He asked her eventually as he sagged into a chair.

"Still hanging in there I guess." She paused, "Scott's losing his mind, Malia can barely hold her change together, Liam is just exhausted. I'm…" She stopped, cutting off the words before she could utter them.

"You're what Lydia?" John said, looking at the young woman his son had loved since third grade, noticing the unshed tears in her eyes. He watched as Lydia straightened her shoulders and her mouth became a firm line.

"I'm fine." She said eventually.

John scoffed, "Sure Lydia. If you're fine then I'm in high spirits." He looked at the girl again, "How long have you loved Stiles?" He asked quietly, watching as her eyes went wide.

"I don't." She denied quickly.

"Yeah Sure Lydia. You keep telling yourself that." He watched the fear on her face, and tried to put himself in her shoes before speaking again, "You know that saying, 'it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' Maybe you need to think about that." He said before getting to his feet and glancing at the offices outside.

"I'm scared I won't ever get the chance to tell him now." Lydia said a few minutes later and John turned to look at her.

"You will. We all will. I guarantee we will all get to tell Stiles how much he means to us. I'm going to get my son back. This isn't going to end any other way." He said fiercely, he had to believe it, believe it with every fibre of his being, otherwise he wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning.

Stiles

He heard the shuffle of feet by his cage door and knew the time was here again, he didn't know if they were taking him to fight, or taking him to Catherine, all he knew was that he had to get a message out.

They took him from the cage and stood him upright, just as more shuffling could be heard coming around the corner. He looked up and was surprised to see the manager from the motel and one of his buddies, but between them they held Miller, and his heart went through the roof.

"Miller!" He screamed, hoping for a reply, hoping that she was alive. Not caring that she thought he was annoying, or a pain in the ass, or anything else, just that she was here, in this hellhole. He let out a sigh of relief when she looked up and their eyes met, recognition at seeing Stiles. He fought hard against his guards, trying to get to her.

"Stiles!" She called out, relief evident in her voice, pulling against the managed and his friend, trying to get to Stiles. Suddenly there were four more guards in the room followed by the big boss.

"What is going on here!?" He demanded, the whole room seeming to still.

"Well, you see boss, she turned up at the motel, asking questions. I had to bring her here." The manager said. Stiles watched as the boss looked at the motel manager in disgust.

"Please tell me she's not someone important Jerry." He sighed heavily

"Erm," Jerry shifted his weight on his feet, looking at the ground uncomfortably. "Well, maybe, she's important. I don't know if anyone will notice she's missing for a while though."

"Who is she?" The boss said taking a step towards Miller.

"I am a deputy at the Beacon Hills Sheriff department." She said determinedly. "I told my boss where I was going and that I wouldn't be more than a couple of hours. He's going to know I'm missing, if he doesn't already. And he's going to move heaven and earth to find us." She said looking at Stiles, knowing she sensed his lie.

The boss just sighed heavily before taking out his gun and shooting both Jerry and his friend without hesitation. Claire stood in shock for a moment before two more guards grabbed hold of her.

"Take her to my room, I could do with some entertainment." He glanced across at Stiles, "Take him to the ring. Give him one last fight and then he's Catherine's." Stiles pretended not to panic at that, "We'll be ready to clear out by sunrise. Got it?" There were a few mumbled agreements and then they were dragging Stiles away from Miller.

"Did you solve it?" He screamed at her, hoping she'd realize what he was on about. "Miller, did you crack it?" He shouted again, finally locking eyes with her as she nodded.

He allowed himself to be dragged towards the cage, trying to calm himself enough to figure out how to get a message out without them realizing what he was doing, and to let whoever was watching that they only had until sunrise. He wondered vaguely if it was his dad watching, then he tried not to think of that, thinking of his dad only made his chest tighten and his heart hurt.

He was thrown into the ring, facing number seventeen, a large man, vicious, merciless and not to mention ugly. Stiles grinned at him, trying to hide all of his nerves, he had to get this message out and he had to do it right now.

Scott

Scott had only just slumped into the chair when Stiles appeared on screen looking the worst Scott had seen him yet. He'd been out running earlier in the day, he knew now it was hopeless, that they needed a better plan, but until somebody figured a better one out, he had to keep searching for them. The others had all gathered, even Malia, which had surprised him slightly. The only one missing was Deputy Miller, which Scott thought was odd but he supposed they all had to sleep some time.

Stiles had his usual sarcastic grin in place, but his eyes were searching everywhere but his opponent, Scott knew instantly that Stiles was planning something, he'd seen that look far too many times in the past to miss it now. There was sudden silence in the room as everyone else noticed the look in Stiles' eyes.

"Hey, you know what, you kind of remind me of my friend Scott?" Stiles began, grinning at the guy, Scott couldn't help but be a little offended, this guy looked like he'd hit every branch of the ugly tree.

Stiles dodged a quick punch, stepping quickly out of the way, before continuing, "Hey, that's not a bad thing, Scott was like my best friend growing up, but I guess it's the tall, ugly thing that reminds me of him." Stiles said quickly, laughing as another fist came his way.

"You know, when me and Scott were, what, twelve maybe? We'd gone hiking in the woods near my house." Another fist, another dodge, Stiles glanced at the cameras quickly, so fast Scott might have missed it, but he knew his friend had a plan, this was important. "He had terrible asthma, and my brilliant idea was lots of fresh air would do him good." Another step out of the way, "We were out walking, I was chatting away, you know as usual, and I turned around and Scott was gone. Just disappeared." Stiles kicked out at the guy as he got closer, "I found him eventually, he'd fallen down a hole into a cave." Stiles laughed, "So obviously I jumped in after him, except when I got down there I realized there was no way we were getting out the way we came in." Stiles dodged again, "We spent all night trying to find a way out, because seriously man, huge cave system. But we found a way out eventually. Scott was stubborn that we'd never go there again, but I couldn't help but worry, you know, what if he fell down some other hole and we didn't know the place very well." Another flying fist, another miss. "So what Scott doesn't know is that I went back down into the caves and plotted out every square mile of that system, I spent all summer doing it, I drew up plans, they're probably still in my room you know? Of course, we never used the caves again, but it was a great adventure." Stiles swung a fit to connect solidly with his opponent and then danced back out of the way. "Funny isn't it? That there is miles of cave systems underneath Beacon Hills and Scott happened to fall into one of the only ways in, I mean it's not an official entrance, more of a collapsed bit of system, but still. I mean there's only two other entrances, which is just beyond weird if you ask me! But anyway, that's not the point. The point is that you remind me of Scott. Although maybe not quite so chatty." Stiles said as the man growled at him.

"I mean, really, you're going with the orders of this raging group of psychopaths? You know that they've kidnapped a sheriff's kid? And then if that's not enough to get a rescue they go and grab themselves a deputy?" Stiles paused in his movements, glanced at the cameras, "And really, other than the pet bitch, sorry, language, witch, they've got protecting them, what have they got as a back-up plan? I'll bet they'll have hightailed it out of here by sunrise, so what's the point in fighting me? What's the point hey? Why don't you just stop?" Stiles shouted as the guy lashed out again, Stiles dodged the fist and slammed his elbow into the guy's side, watched as he crumpled slowly to the floor. "Huh, guess you are like Scott. He couldn't take a good hit either, it's always better to go for the unexpected approach. You know, using the surprise factor." He grinned as his opponent was dragged away.

The guards came for Stiles warily but he only held his hands up in defeat, "You're taking me to Catherine I guess? No problem, she always gets so involved with her torture she forgets about everything else, and I guess I do like the attention." He said sarcastically, before glancing once more at the cameras and been escorted from the cage.

There was silence in the room.

"What the fuck was that?" Percy asked quietly.

"That was Stiles." Malia said simply, a feral smile appearing on her face. "We going to go kick some witch ass now?" She said to Scott.

"Can someone explain to me what the fuck just happened?" Jason demanded

"That was Stiles telling us that, 1. They're in the caves on the preserve. 2. There's only two entrances, but not to use either of them. 3. They've got Miller. 4. They've got a witch who's not going to notice if we don't use one of the main entrances because she'll be too busy torturing Stiles. And 5. They'll be gone by sunrise." Lydia surmised, surprised by how even her voice sounded despite how emotionally raw she felt.

"Shit." Scott said, trying to process everything that had just happened, "How do we know it's Miller?"

"Why else wouldn't she be here?" Liam said quietly, watching as Scott paced across the room.

"Okay. We know where they are. We know they won't be there for long. We need to plan. And quickly."

Dean

He'd seen them drag the deputy past them a little while ago, saw Stiles come back from the cage only to be shoved into Catherine's room. He'd heard the screams that started a little while afterwards. He'd seen Sam sitting across from him, too weak to do anything other than flinch every time there was another scream. He heard the deputies screams start a few minutes later, he hated to think what was happening to her, but he could imagine, which was probably just as bad. He knew that something was happening, the guards were on edge, disappearing off with boxes of equipment and returning without them. He didn't know what to think of that, he just knew that something was wrong, the routine was disrupted. Something was going to happen.

The guards pulled out guns a little while later, walking slowly past the cages, firing off the odd shot at the helpless prisoners.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean shouted, not caring that he was drawing attention to himself.

"Cleaning house." One of the guards said with a smile before turning towards Sam.

"No!" Dean screamed out, helpless to do anything to stop the guard from shooting Sam. Just as he pulled the trigger another shot rang out and the guard dropped dead to the ground. Sam was howling in agony where the bullet tore through his shoulder, but he was alive.

Suddenly the room was filled with people, Scott, Liam, Malia, John, Lydia, some other people he didn't know but he was sure they were wolves. He saw Catherine appear with Stiles pulled flush against her, she took one look at the scene before and then turned and ran towards the bosses room still holding onto Stiles.

There were still a few guards fighting them off when John broke open his cage. Dean stood up unsteadily, immediately heading across to Sam who was already out of his cage.

"He's dying." Lydia said quickly. "Scott, you or Percy need to do something right now if you want him to live."

"It's only a fifty percent chance Lydia." Scott said quietly.

"I know that. But you bite him and maybe he lives or you don't and he dies. Make your mind up and do it quickly." She turned her attention to one of the guards that was left, screaming at him, knocking him off his feet with the power of her voice.

Sam looked at Dean with hazy eyes and Dean turned to Scott. "Please." He said quickly.

Scott nodded and then quickly bit down, Sam let out a small yelp of pain and then he was quiet, the strain of making any noise evidently too much for him.

Percy

They'd gotten into the cave through the same hole that Scott had fallen through years before, it had taken them a while to find it, but as soon as they were inside they knew they were close, they could smell the fear, and then shortly after hear the gunshots.

He'd rushed in with the rest of them, taking out as many guards as possible, looking around at the dead bodies in the cages. He'd helped to get Dean and Sam out of their cages, watched as Scott gave Sam the bite, he really hoped it worked. He smelt Leo then, the relief coming from his pack member nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Leo!" He shouted, running to his pack mate.

Leo just smiled up at him weakly from the bottom of his cage, "Hey buddy. Knew you'd find me." He said quietly, his voice breaking in pain as he spoke.

"Leo, what's wrong?" Percy asked, Leo sounded like crap, he looked like crap, and, oh god, was that blood, he was coughing up blood, oh crap. "Leo, what do I do?"

Malia was with him within a moment, looking down at Leo, "It's mistletoe poisoning, my cousin had it once. He's dying." She said quietly.

"How do I save him?" Percy said looking at her with desperation in his eyes.

"You can heal him, but you'd have to give up your alpha powers." Malia said, crouching as Lydia screamed again, knocking another guard off his feet.

"Fine. I don't want them. Tell me how." He demanded. Malia explained the situation as quickly as she could, he could see how distracted she was as all the time she was trying to spot Stiles in this mess, hoping that they wouldn't find his body in one of the cages.

Frank appeared beside them just as the final guard went down.

"Where's Stiles?" He heard Lydia demand.

"He was with the witch." Dean replied, his voice cracking with relief as he watched his brother slowly start to heal from the wound.

Lydia was moving forwards again, trying to find Stiles as quickly as she could, a cold terror in her chest like nothing she had ever felt before.

"You need to be careful, she can control your words. Don't let her touch you." Dean warned, he didn't want to leave Sam but he wanted to get to Stiles, in the end he stayed motionless.

Percy and Frank stayed with Leo as the others moved forward, planning to rescue Stiles and put an end to this.

Stiles

He was sure his voice had all but been destroyed from all the screaming, Catherine had been more vicious than usual, seemingly determined to get him to betray his family, it only made him more stubborn though. He'd almost cried in relief when he'd heard the sound of fighting outside, they'd got the message, they were here.

Catherine had dragged him outside the room, using his body as a shield from anybody who chose to shoot at them. Thankfully nobody did which Stiles couldn't help but feel relieved about, but then he was being thrown through another door and hitting the floor hard.

"Rude much." He said as he made a show of brushing the dirt from his jeans as he straightened up, trying to hide his pain as best as possible.

"Shut up!" Catherine shouted. "Edward!" She demanded, "There's werewolves at our door. We need to leave."

Stiles took in the room slowly, looking at the man she was addressing at Edward, huh, it was the boss man, he thought disinterestedly. Instead his eyes locked on Miller, she was chained to the wall, stood in her bra and pants, tears streaming down her face, and Edward was stood holding a knife to her stomach, and oh my god, that was flesh, oh god, Stiles was going to be sick, this bastard was skinning her alive.

"Stiles." Miller said, her voice quiet, unshed emotion in that singular word.

He tried not to think of all the other times she had said his name recently, the times she'd said he was a fuck up, encouraged his dad to not search for him, showed such understanding, because of course it must be so hard to have a son like him, a hyperactive delinquent. She was obviously a good actress, because in that singular word she actually made it sound like she cared about Stiles.

He knew she didn't, but it didn't matter, what the guy had been doing was still wrong, it didn't matter who he was doing it to, it was the fact that this bastard thought it was okay to skin people. He roared in rage as he charged forward, seemingly surprising Edward who dropped the knife as Stiles tackled him. Stiles landed on top of him, straddling him as he landed punch after punch on Edward, feeling more animal than man, the rage driving him to continue.

"You sick. Sadistic. Fuck." Stiles roared, punctuating each word with a blow landing to Edward.

"Enough." Catherine said, pulling him off, her hand sending waves of pain through him, forcing him to crash to the floor. Catherine picked up the knife, twirling it in her fingers slowly, looking at Stiles on the floor. Then without any warning she plunged the knife into Edward's chest. "Sorry brother, but you need to know when you've been beaten."

Edward's face was one of pure shock, it lasted only a moment before his eyes glazed over, the look of betrayal still evident on his face. Stiles only had a moment to take it in before Catherine was on him, pulling him flush against her again, the knife pressed to his throat as the door was kicked in.

Scott

Scott could smell Stiles, he knew he was close, so close to getting his best friend out of here, it only took a moment for him to kick the door in and then he saw him.

John, Malia, Jason, Liam and Lydia were behind him, all of them gasping in horror at the scene in front of them. Malia growling quietly, her eyes flashing blue at the witch. She had a knife pressed to Stiles' throat, a trickle of blood already running down his throat, Deputy Miller was tied up to the side of them, a pool of blood already at her feet, her stomach covered in it, and her eyes fluttering as she tried desperately to stay conscious.

Stiles looked worse than he had done over the cameras, the cuts and bruises more vivid than they had seemed, the word so cruelly carved into his chest seemed to almost glow in the dim cave and the witch had her other hand wrapped around him, covering what could only be her palm print on his stomach.

Before he could do anything other than utter a growl and glare at her, he felt a presence running rampant through his brain, hear her soft laughter as she took control of every one of his actions.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen now." The witch said, Scott glanced at his companions, he thought that they must all be under the same spell, there's no way they would have been as silent or as still otherwise.

"What have you done to them?" Stiles said, his adams apple bobbing nervously around the sharp point of the knife.

"Don't worry Stiles, I've done nothing to them but hold them in place. I'm not hurting them." She smirked at them from behind Stiles. "Now, I'll keep this simple. I need to take a life in order to leave here."

If Scott needed further proof of her powers he would have figured it out right now when his voice spoke without his consent.

"And who's life are you planning on taking exactly?"

"Well, we have Deputy Miller over there, she's already lost a lot of blood, she probably won't make it through the night either way, you know shock does awful things to the body, or," She pressed the knife a little tighter against Stiles' throat, making him hiss in pain slightly, "I can kill Stiles here. I mean, either one is fine with me, but I'll let you guys make the decision. Hell, I'll be really nice and let Claire and Stiles vote as well." The witch said grinning.

Scott wanted to scream in outrage, what he wanted to do was kill this witch, not decide on the death of one of his pack, and really, as much as he didn't want to think about it, there really was no decision, it was Stiles. It would always be Stiles.

"Who wants to go first?" The witch said grinning at them all. She took her hand off Stiles' hip, keeping the knife tight against his throat, "How about you?" She said pointing.

Scott followed the line of her pointed finger, looking at Jason who looked absolutely terrified.

"I don't know." He paused, seeming to way up his words before speaking again, "I don't know Stiles. I do know Miller. I want you to spare her." He said quietly.

The witch nodded in agreement, "Okay, one vote for killing Stiles." She smirked before pointing to John.

Scott could almost see the violent fight that was going on in John's mind, sure that he was experiencing the same thing, that what he wanted to say and what was coming out of his mouth.

"Miller is a good deputy." He said trailing off, you could hear the despair in his voice, knowing that he was condemning his son as he spoke.

"As opposed to Stiles who isn't a good son?" The witch said carefully, her lips almost pressed against Stiles' ear as she said, Scott could see the shudder that ran through Stiles' body, hated that she was using them to hurt his friend, but unable to do anything about it.

John didn't say anymore, just nodded his head tightly.

"What about you Miller? Who do you want to save?" The witch said, Scott glanced at Miller who was barely conscious, the words still torn from her throat.

"Me. Please save me." She whispered, her lips bloody, but you could see the anger in her face, the strain in her voice.

Malia was next, "I'm sorry Stiles. It has to be Miller. She's never hurt anybody." You could see the way Stiles was slowly crumbling under their words.

Liam spoke up quietly, "Miller needs to live. She's a good person."

Lydia was glaring at the witch, spitting out the words in hatred, "Miller has never made me feel like shit. You have Stiles, on multiple occasions. Miller is worth saving." Scott knew that wasn't true, knew it was the witch controlling the words, knew that Lydia would never say something like that to Stiles, and then it was Scott's turn.

"Stiles, you're my brother, you always have been, and you always will be, but people get hurt because of you, they always do. I'm sorry Stiles. But I've got to save Miller."

He could see the tears in Stiles eyes, he hated himself, hated that he wasn't strong enough to fight this, to say what he really felt.

"And what about you Stiles?" The witch taunted, "Who do you think is worth saving?"

There was silence in the room, Scott felt like he was going to be violently sick, could smell the triumph in the witch.

"Not me. I'm not worth saving. I'm sorry I wasn't enough." Stiles said quietly, making eye contact with each of them, tears spilling from his eyes.

The witch looked over at Scott, meeting his eyes, grinning at him with such joy in her eyes as she pulled Stiles tight against her.

"I guess you're right Stiles. You were never good enough for them." She said quietly, before pulling the knife from his throat and plunging it into his chest.

"No!" Scott roared out, taking a step forward before a blast suddenly knocked him off his feet.

He sat up, looking at the others, evidently they had been knocked down in the blast too. His eyes drawn to the place where the witch had last been, to where Stiles should be. Except there was nothing there. No witch. No Stiles. Just an empty cave.

He couldn't help the wail of despair that was torn from his throat, hearing it echo from the other's throats too. He wasn't sure how much later it was when he finally looked around the room, Liam and Jason had got their senses back enough that they had unchained Claire from the wall, laying her down carefully on the floor.

"Scott, you need to bite her." Liam was saying, his voice soundly oddly far away. "Are you listening to me? Scott!" Liam shouted, followed up with a slap to the face.

"Scott, son, you need to do it now or she'll die." John said quietly, his face pale, his voice trembling. His son had just been murdered in front of his eyes, no wonder he was in shock. "Do it. Otherwise Stiles," his voice tripped over the name, "Stiles." He said clearing his throat, "He would want us to save her."

It was this that pulled Scott out of whatever state of shock he was in, he crawled over to Miller. Biting gently into her wrist, hoping it would be enough to save her, all the time praying that he would find a way to fix this. Stiles wouldn't be dead. He wouldn't allow himself to believe that for even a minute.

Dean

Dean clung onto Sam with everything he had. He had almost lost his brother today, if it hadn't had been for Scott then Sam would be dead. Now that that had sunk in he seemed unable to let go of his brother, even as Frank, Leo and Percy approached him. Sam opened his eyes slowly, they flashed blue at Dean and he breathed in a sigh of relief.

"Sammy, you're okay, you're okay." Dean repeated, so glad to see his brother's open eyes below him.

"Stiles?" Sam asked, his voice cracking with disuse rather than pain. Before Dean had a chance to answer there was a roar that resonated through the caves. Dean and Sam were both up on their feet in a moment, the five of them jogging towards the source of the sound.

Dean entered the cave, acknowledged the body of the boss on the ground, saw Scott crouched over the body of the young female deputy who had been brought in earlier, saw the healing bite on her wrist. He looked at the broken faces around the room, but there was someone missing, the only face that Dean needed to see right now.

"Where's Stiles?" He asked, terrified of what he was about to hear.

"She took him." Scott said quietly.

"She killed him." Liam said quietly, not expecting Scott to turn and roar in his face.

"No! No I don't believe that! She took him and until I see a body to prove otherwise Stiles is alive and we will find him! Do you understand me!?"

There was a silence in the room until one by one every single person in the room nodded.

They would bring Stiles home. None of them would rest until they did.