Lydia's heels clicked against the wooden floor as she paced back and forth for the thousandth time. Her hands fiddled with her face, rubbing her forehead and eyes, not a word leaving her lips.

"If I understood correctly," she started talking "you found Stiles, but he didn't want to come back. You started to look into what happened and found out about The Dollmaker, the owner of Timent Magicae and apparently a criminal. Now, we know that man can use voodoo to make people do what he says. That's what's keeping Stiles there. Because apparently, he went to Sacramento to find out about his magic."

Scott unconsciously rubbed his healed cheek "Yeah, in summary."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Malia looked up from her fingers. Her eyes stared at Scott, depleted from the energy and determination they usually carried.

"What are we going to do?"

"We are going to figure out everything we can about The Dollmaker." Derek answered "We are going to find a way to get him out of there."

Lydia stopped walking, crossing her arms.

"How are we going to do that if that man can kill us whenever he feels like it?" she asked.

Scott sighed "We will surprise him."

"How was he?" Malia suddenly cut into the conversation.

Scott's eyes drifted towards Derek, his eyebrows raised. The honesty inside him was demanding to speak the truth, say Stiles wasn't fine. He wasn't happy. He was hurt.

Yet when his eyes jumped back to Malia's, clinging to the last spark of hope, he couldn't bring himself to speak the words out loud. For the first time since he had met her, he saw something he had never expected. There was vulnerability in her eyes.

Even though she hadn't spent as much time with Stiles as she had with the rest of the pack, he had been the one to pull her up from her despair when she couldn't handle being human. In Eichen House they'd helped each other, created a bond. Then, he had saved her life.

As far as their relationship went, Stiles was as meaningful to Malia as he was to the rest of the pack.

"He's okay." Scott swallowed hard "He's got friends there. Other people that aren't there willingly but they… support each other."

Absently, Malia nodded. Her eyes returned to Lydia.

The strawberry blonde's gaze on the other hand, landed on Scott and Derek. Steel was not only in her face, but in every cell of her tensed muscles.

"Be honest with us." She asked, raised her chin "How close are we really to getting him back?"

Scott's lips refused to move. As hard as he tried, not a single tone left him.

Lydia's eyes dulled. His silence was enough of an answer.

"That's what I thought."

"You haven't said anything for an entire day."

Stiles looked up from his burger, not having touched it at all. Lukas' figure slid on the bench opposite to his, letting his elbows rest on the wooden table.

"Don't feel like it." Stiles shrugged and looked back at his burger, taking a fry between his fingers and playing with it.

"Hey," Lukas' voice was firm "You know you can talk to us about it, right?"

A humourless laugh threatened to escape Stiles' lips. Using extreme energy within him, Stiles managed to hold it back. The image flashed before his eyes, the words echoed between his ears.

"You aren't telling anyone about this, understand?"

His wrists were still burning from the heat Marcus had used to enforce that message into his skull.

Stiles shook his head away from the memory and looked at Lukas.

"You know it's as bad as they say?" he found himself saying "I knew it was bad, but…"

He sighed, not finding words to describe the shadow that would never leave him.

Lukas nodded "I know." He said "But you've got us. Melissa is worried about you, Sheu-Fuh and Carlos literally just pushed me to this bench. Don't isolate yourself. We are all in this together."

Stiles nodded and sighed, stuffing the fry in his mouth.

"Sheu-Fuh and I wanted to try out the Dragon and Panther trick, you can come with and practise your act." Lukas smiled, his hand fell on Stiles' shoulder "Just don't forget you've still got people looking out for you."

"I'll be right there." Stiles said and forced out a smile.

Lukas nodded and got up, leaving Stiles alone with his burger again. It would've been a lie to say he felt better. But, somewhere inside his mind, something had warmed up. Lukas' deep voice, his strong grip, his affirming words.

They reminded Stiles of a certain true alpha.

Finding the courage to eat the burger before him, Stiles got ready to join his friends.

The Dollmaker's fingers tapped one by one on his wooden desk. His golden rings reflecting the only source of illumination in the tent, a yellow lamp. His eyes ran over his various notes, comparing numbers and letters.

His stomach threatened to twist. It wasn't enough. However, it had been years since he had allowed something as shallow as emotions take over him. In a blink of an eye, his mind was already running possible solutions to his problem.

"Aaron" he looked up at his minion sitting next to his tent's entrance "Get five minions together, we are paying an old friend a visit."

Aaron nodded, but frowned confused "Is there a problem?"

"An unexpected shortage." The Dollmaker got on his feet and slid his hands into his black jacket, silk softly brushing his skin.

From the corner of his eye, The Dollmaker took in Aaron's hesitating image. His mouth gaped open for a second, not understanding. The Dollmaker shook the dust of his jacket. He'd be surprised if someone managed to keep up.

Aaron wasn't that someone. Within seconds, the boy realized what was better for him. Without asking for any explanation, he turned towards the tent's exit.

"Tell Marcus to bring Stillinski." The Dollmaker pulled a knife from one of his drawers "I'll need his spark."

If Scott ever had been asked to guess what utter incredulity looked like, he would have described the exact image before him. Deaton's hollow and defeated face.

Inside the veterinarian's clinic, Scott avoided the bright light burning into his eyes. The faint smell of alcohol lingered in the air, dazzling his mind more than if already was. Next to him, Derek and Lydia sat. The strawberry blonde's foot tapping against the floor impatiently.

The veterinarian shook his head after a couple of seconds, leaning with one hand on the counter behind him.

After telling him about their discoveries regarding sparks and magic, Scott had finally decided to confront Deaton about it. Ask him about magic, about the circus about the Dollmaker.

Surprisingly, Deaton's eyes had immediately fallen during the tale, his muscles had lost their strength, his head had sunk. A dark shadow had clouded the entire clinic.

It took a few seconds, but Deaton finally looked up at Scott and answered.

"I knew about his spark."

A needle could've been heard falling. Scott could only gape at the veterinarian. After two years without any leads and Deaton had… known about it?

There was only a single word in Scott's mind.

"What?"

He wasn't the only one shaken up by the revelation. Something shifted to his left.

"What do you mean you knew about his spark?" Derek jumped on his feet "Didn't you think it would be worth mentioning? Two years ago?"

Having come awfully close, Derek stared down at the veterinarian, his chest falling and raising rapidly.

Some strength returned to Deaton, his spine straightening.

"If you let me explain, I'll tell you everything." He said.

His calm eyes dug into Derek's. The werewolf kept his gaze where it was, bluntly observing Deaton with fire in his eyes. Scott was on the edge of his seat, prepared to jump into action. Lydia carefully analysed the scene.

Finally, Derek sighed and stepped back. Taking deep breaths, his heart managed to slow down.

"Tell us what happened." Lydia leaned forward.

"He told me when Jackson was still the Kanima" Deaton looked at each one present, hoping they recalled the incident "His task was to circle the warehouse with mountain ash, but there wasn't enough. He said he believed in it and the circle closed by itself."

"He never told me about it." Scott frowned.

Deaton shrugged "He thought it wasn't important." He continued "We talked about it, I… took a look at him and found his spark."

Derek frowned. A dangerous glow returning to his eyes.

"Why did you hide it?" he asked.

"Because it wasn't a woken spark." Deaton said "It was a dormant one."

"What's the difference?" Lydia asked.

"A dormant spark is someone that has inactive magic within them." Deaton answered "A woken spark is someone that can actually use their magic. As far as I knew, Stiles had some magical potential within him, but he had no way to access or use it."

"Until his spark woke." Scott remembered Laureen's article. He looked up at Deaton "Dormant sparks can wake, can't they?"

Deaton nodded "But it's very rare. So much so that I assumed Stiles would never get to use his magic. There are only few things that can trigger a spark-"

"Like being possessed by a demon?" Derek interrupted.

Silence ruled over the room.

Deaton sighed. He nodded.

"Like being possessed by a demon." He repeated "I assume that's partly a reason why the Nogitsune chose Stiles."

Lydia got on her feet, her heels clinging against the white floor.

"We were mourning Allison, he was feeling guilty." Her gaze was glued on the floor "He probably discovered what he could do and thought…"

"…he thought he could make up for the Nogitsune with his magic." Scott nodded, understanding perfectly what had happened "That's why he was so excited when he told me he was going to Sacramento. He kept saying the pack would love his secret, that we'd profit from it."

Deaton leaned against the counter "He was so excited, he let his guard down."

"Giving The Dollmaker the perfect chance to force him into joining his circus." Derek spat, looking out of the window.

"But what can he do?" Lydia asked, stopping her pacing "What's his spark?"

Deaton's trunk leaned slightly forward, his gaze set on Scott. The werewolf looked for Derek's help, but only received a shrug in return.

"We don't know." He admitted "The only thing he wrote in the chat was things changed."

Lydia's eyebrows jumped to the skies "Well, that's extremely precise."

Scott shook his head. Even if some questions were being answered, there was still a lot they had yet to discover. So much information hidden in the dark, out of their grasp. Laughing at them from afar.

"What do you know about The Dollmaker?" his attention returned to Deaton.

"Not much. Only rumours." He shrugged "Just that he has a powerful spark and an army."

Derek's eyebrows furrowed "Why would he need an army? He only owns a circus."

Deaton shrugged, shaking his head.

Lydia's eyes landed on Derek "There's more." She assured with ice in her eyes "He has been building an army for years, there's no way this is just about the circus."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"I mean," she answered "the circus is just a cover-up. That's not all The Dollmaker wants, he is using the circus to get somewhere."

"The question is where."

Sheu-Fuh circled around Lukas, her tiny feet barely touching the ground as she spun around her own axis. Sweltering heat made a drop of sweat run down Stiles' face when she came near him, flaming whips entangling her limbs.

Lukas smiled at Stiles before his eyes landed on Sheu-Fuh. His chocolate skin contrasted Sheu-Fuh's pale one, just like the lashes of water around him contrasted her fire. Yet, they perfectly fit together.

The tongues of water circled around the limbs of fire, dancing with each other, chasing each other, longing for each other. Deep down, not only the elements felt that way.

"Try the dragon." Carlos said, sitting to Stiles' left.

Red and blue reflected from his enchanted eyes as they followed the dancers.

Sheuh-Fuh stopped spinning, her torso twisted in a circle. Holding her left hand, Lukas' body swung back. With their other hands, they painted a circle above them, ending it with held hands.

Something cracked lightly above. Sparks turned into flames and flames into living fire. It shook, vibrated and shifted. Within seconds, a dragon rushed over Stiles, a current of hot air hitting his skin after it had passed.

Completely opposite to Stiles, a deep roar came swinging his way. Drops fell from the mass of water shifting over the empty seats.

It soared above him. A living, breathing panther of water.

Panther and dragon circled around each other, playing with each other, coming dangerously near before jumping apart. The dragon flew faster, the panther jumped higher. Their movements desperate, violent, playful.

A thin voice cried out below, the Dragon dissolved.

"Sheu-Fuh!" Lukas spun around within seconds.

A shadow loamed over Stiles and Carlos.

Stiles' eyes wondered up "Lukas…?"

He didn't get to end his sentence. Within seconds, the wave splashed on their heads. Soaking every bit of skin and clothes. Stiles' eyes immediately shut when the cold wall hit his back.

"Por el amor de Díos!" Carlos shouted next to Stiles, getting on his feet "Lukas!"

Stiles let his arms fall from above his head, heavy drops falling from his hair, tracing their way down his spine.

"Sorry!" Sheu-Fuh's hand was closed around her ankle "I tripped, I didn't mean to…"

"It wasn't your fault." Lukas assured, pulling her up from the sand "You didn't…"

Carlos pointed at him "You are going to clean my trailer for this!"

Stiles frowned at Sheu-Fuh "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because he" Carlos pointed dramatically at Lukas "is going to pay for splashing his funny animals at me. For the fifth time!"

Something strange blossomed inside Stiles, heating up his chest. It tingled up his nerves, lighting up the darkness inside him. The heavy shadow over him didn't disappear, but for a second, there was a glimpse of light. Before he knew it, Stiles found himself smiling lightly.

A second didn't pass until Sheu-Fuh started laughing, leaning back on the sand.

"You" Carlos pointed at Sheu-Fuh "are as guilty as he is! You are going to help him."

Lukas quickly glanced at Stiles. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles could've sworn there was a lack of tension in his muscles, not a single wrinkle in his face but a proud smile. However, before Stiles could process the expression's meaning, Lukas returned his attention to Carlos, negotiating his declared penalty.

He had barely stepped out of the tent, barely said goodnight to his friends when Marcus' arm swung over his shoulders. Within the same second, every cell of his body urged him to move away, the long strands of hair tinglig his bare arms.

His resistance was met with a hand as firm as stone.

"Stilllinski," Marcus' firm grip started leading him in the entire opposite he was heading "time to start making up for your promise."

A mountain's weight fell on Stiles' shoulders.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to bring as much space between them as possible.

"The boss has a—" Marcus finally stepped aside. However, his hand still pushing Stiles' back in the direction he wanted.

Tiny steps echoed from behind them. Spinning around at the same time, they spotted the shadow running towards them.

"Stiles, why aren't you-?" Melissa's voice halted as suddenly as her steps did.

Her arms dangling loosely be her side, she observed the image before her. The cold wind brushed her hair back, nothing else moving. Her eyes didn't need to land on Marcus before they widened, concern clouding them.

"He's coming with me."

Marcus' eyes turned into slits "But you already know that, don't you?"

Melissa's eyes jumped back and forth between the two presents before her.

"Let me set things straight." Marcus said and turned around. Stiles' stomach twisted inside his body, an urge to push Marcus away from her accompanying every thought.

"You aren't telling anyone about what you saw in his mind." His chin pointed at Stiles "Neither are you telling anyone where he is going. As far as you are concerned, nothing is happening."

Stiles had to fight his entire body to not jump over Marcus. Melissa was his friend. It was always the same. Every time the minions came near any of his friends, be it Melissa, Lukas or anyone, heat rushed up his cheeks.

"Are we clear?" Marcus asked.

Melissa tilted her chin, remained silent.

"I said," Marcus repeated "are we clear?"

Melissa stepped backwards within a blink of an eye, hissing in pain, her eyes immediately jumping to the metal bracelets around her wrists.

"Yes." Melissa spat out.

Relief immediately flooded her soft expression. Marcus smiled pleased.

"I'm glad." He told her. His eyes returned to Stiles "You need something dry, there's no way you are coming with like this."

It wasn't a secret in need of hiding, Marcus knew how much Stiles hated him that moment. However, he was a powerless to do anything as Melissa was to stop him from doing what The Dollmaker wanted. Marcus knew that.

Smiling with satisfaction, Marcus continued walking. His hand closed in a firm grip around Stiles' arm, tearing him forward.

"It won't be your fault." her soft voice said inside his head.

When Stiles looked over his shoulder, Melissa had longed turned around, heading for her trailer.

She hadn't stopped eyeing him throughout the entire ride, the woman to his left. How long that had been was hard to tell. The sun had long disappeared behind the horizon, nothing but heavy dark clouds crawling past the window.

The tree's shadows fell on the two figures on the driver's and co-pilot's seat, painting their features with darkness. Marcus was sitting right before Stiles, his legs swung over the cockpit. Behind the wheel, Alicia didn't let the black limousine before them out of her sight. Its lights were drowned by dense fog, making it a much more difficult task.

It was his limousine.

The Dollmaker's.

A shiver ran down Stiles' spine at the simple thought of the name. Every hair on his skin standing tall, as if ready to fend off an imminent attack.

Stiles tried to ignore only a name could make his blood run cold. He tried to block out the minions around him. He tried to forget what he was here for.

A wall of exploding sounds hit Stiles the moment he passed the black door, entering the sweltering warehouse. The floor beneath his feet vibrated at the music's rhythm, just like the many sweating figures before him.

"This way."

Marcus' hand was again closed firmly around his arm, guiding him through the faceless mass of bodies, melting into each other under the flashing colours. The only illumination keeping them from becoming a mindless dark wave.

Before them, Aaron cleared The Dollmaker's way, pushing and growling at every person in his path. Most barely noticed, an offended frown only flashing on their faces before the drinks in their hands regained their utter attention.

Following the minions and Marcus, Stiles tried to recognize his surroundings, find out where he was, what this place was. However, the wall of drunk people, their screams and the music pounding off the speakers flooded his senses.

It was impossible to concentrate. The ever-changing light's colour was enough to disorient him.

Suddenly, sticky skin impacted against Stiles, making him stumble sideways. If Marcus' grip hadn't tightened, Stiles would've fallen hard on his side. Barely having recovered, Stiles glanced up at the silhouette before him.

A middle-aged woman smiled at him, glitter and sweat melting into each other on her face and bare arms. Her long blonde hair dangled into her transparent beverage, bu that was the least of her worries.

"Sorry, handsome." She said, not stepping back "Didn't see you there."

The burning stench of alcohol hit Stiles the moment she opened her mouth.

About to smile apologetically and continue walking, Stiles' actions were brought to a halt when a soft giggle escaped her lips, turning in delusional laughter within seconds.

Frowning, Stiles couldn't help but notice her swollen red eyes, the dizziness in her muscles, the trembling of her grip around the white cup.

All of that in just a second.

"Care to join me?" she asked.

Before Stiles could reply and give in to the pounding urge within to walk away, a red drop traced its way between her nose and lips.

"You're blee—" Stiles started.

However, before he ended his sentence, Marcus decided it was enough. Without saying a word, he continued walking, fastening his pace to keep up with the other minions, tearing Stiles with him.

The whole exchange had only lasted a few seconds, but it opened Stiles' eyes. This was far more than just a club.

"What's this place?" Stiles asked, still glancing over his shoulder at the woman.

Marcus snorted "Never come out of your castle, Stillinski?"

"It's a— club." The red-headed woman that had been observing Stiles stepped in. Only then did Stiles notice she had been walking behind them.

"Explosion." Marcus continued "The most exclusive club in California, even the States."

They'd almost passed through the sweltering mass, the woman having long lost disappeared behind them.

"This is where real business is done." The woman explained "The one where you actually profit."

The multitude of people cleared enough before them for Stiles to see a closed door, two very well-trained men standing before it. Glasses hid their eyes, as secretly as the heavy jackets protected their body.

Aaron's lips moved, but Stiles didn't understand anything. The heavy bass and technological music drowned every sound near him.

It was only a second until the door was opened. Without another word, The Dollmaker was the first one to step in, his minions following.

"I thought I'd made myself clear." The suited man smiled sourly from behind his desk "You aren't welcomed here after your faux pas."

The Dollmaker leaned forward on his seat, not a hinge of fear or regret in his face.

"You don't know what I am offering." He eyed the tall man "Would be wise of you to not decide too soon when it comes to people like me."

Sitting on a leather chair, the man threw his head back and laughed.

It would've been a lie to say Stiles understood anything of what was happening. Standing before the closed office's door, with Marcus, Alicia and the red-headed woman by his side, he only observed the two criminals play with each other like cat and mouse.

He only didn't know which was which.

"You mean your little dolls?" the man eyed his tattooed hand thoughtfully "You know I can kill anyone I want just as easily, without needing little sparks coming out of my fingers."

The Dollmaker smiled, the faint lighting casting deep shadows over his face.

"I'm not talking about the dolls."

The man's thick brows raised for a second, doubt sparkling his eyes for a second.

"Whatever," he shook his head "you got involved with the wrong people. No politics was our deal and you broke it. So, I'm going to ask you only once. Leave Explosion before things get ugly."

He raised to his feet, his hand wandering to his waist, landing on a metallic hilt peeking out of his belt.

Laughing, The Dollmaker leaned back on his seat, resting his hands on the rests.

"Tell me, how is business going?" The Dollmaker looked up at the ceiling "I suppose bad, isn't it? The earthquake destroying your plantations, the new regulations…"

He sighed heavily.

"Your demand is over the clouds, but can you keep up with it?"

The man's eyes darkened, his fists clenched.

Stiles wanted to look at the minions, see what their reaction was. See if they understood anything. If they were as relaxed and careless as The Dollmaker was. However, he didn't dare to move, he didn't dare to look away from the scene.

"What's your point?" the man asked.

The Dollmaker got on his feet "I can give it to you."

"How?" the man asked.

"For the right price of course."

The man shook his head "No, I mean how?"

"With sparks coming out of my fingers." The Dollmaker answered "You just need to be willing to pay the right price."

The man's eyes assessed the Dollmaker, inspecting every centimetre of his body, looking for the catch. However, it wasn't long until his shoulders dropped and he nodded. Letting himself fall back on his chair, he folded his hands over his lap.

"How much do you want?"

The Dollmaker smiled, his hand closing around the white papers with tremendous amounts of zeros on them. Pleased, he stuffed them on the inside of his jacket, making a tremendous amount of money his Stiles' dad would've never earned. In a lifetime.

"Now, it's your turn." The man got on his feet "Tell me, how are you going to do it?"

The Dollmaker smiled "I'm not doing anything."

The man's hand immediately jumped to his belt, a blazing silver gun on his hands. It was like someone had pressed play on a movie. In unison, all minions stepped forward, raising their hands, ready to kill off the man.

The man's hands stayed firmly closed around the gun, but his eyes wondered hesitantly over the magical people around him. It was obvious who would win if it came to it.

"I could kill you, Pierre. This easily." The Dollmaker shook his head and got on his feet "But I might profit from this friendship in the future."

He nodded. The minions stepped back.

"I'm not doing anything." The Dollmaker repeated and turned around, his eyes landed on Stiles "He is."

The world stopped spinning.

The corner of Stiles' vision clouded, only permitting him to stare at The Dollmaker, paralyzed.

"There's just one thing we need." The Dollmaker ignored Stiles' shock and turned to look back at Pierre "Flour."

"Flour?" Pierre asked.

"Flour." The Dollmaker nodded "The same amount of product you want to have. He'll take care of the rest."

Stiles' stomach spun around 180 degrees when he realized what The Dollmaker wanted.

Outside the office, in a completely different room, Pierre had arranged sack after sack of flour, piled up in heaps in front Stiles and the minions. Stiles swallowed hard, his mind still not wrapping entirely around what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to do it.

When the last sack landed on the floor, Pierre crossed his arms.

"Anytime."

It didn't escape Stiles he was accompanied by the two bodyguards, both their hands on their gun's hilts. Pierre had learned from the last thirty minutes. He wasn't staying alone with The Dollmaker and his minions.

"You know what to do, Stillinski." Marcus' hand fell on Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles' heart throbbed in his chest, he stared at the brown sacks before him, he tried to convince himself this was dream.

Of all the time he'd been in the circus, he'd never had to do something like this. The Dollmaker had asked him to do stuff, to intimidate politicians, to put on a show for the circus, sure. But never had he asked him to do anything as wrong as this, as disgusting and immoral.

This was what the minions did.

The hard stuff, the illegal stuff, the dark stuff.

What would his Dad think?

What would Scott think?

What would Derek think?

Feet shifted to Stiles' right.

"Is there a problem?" The Dollmaker asked.

But it wasn't a question. It was a reminder, a threat, a menace. His dark eyes dug into Stiles', looking into his soul.

The words echoed inside Stiles' mind.

"Anything?"

The doll dangled behind Stiles' lids.

"Anything."

Scott's name carelessly written on it.

"You are going to do everything I say."

The papers with his friends' names.

"If you as much as hesitate to obey…"

The knife in The Dollmaker's hand.

"I'll make sure he and your other friend die in the most excruciating way you could imagine."

Stiles swallowed hard.

He didn't have a choice.

For the millionth time, he hated himself for changing that stupid gun.

"I just…" he shook his head "I'll need some time. I've never changed such a big amount."

"You are going to learn how to use yours to perfection…"

"You are only going to use it for me…"

The Dollmaker smirked pleased, knowing he had won.

"Take as long as you need."

Pierre's gaze jumped from The Dollmaker to Stiles, his brows furrowed.

"I want guarantee this isn't a trick." He said.

The Dollmaker pointed with his chin at the sack closest to Stiles.

Stiles took in a deep breath.

He tried not to think about what he was going to do. What it implied.

When his spark had woken, Stiles' hadn't controlled it, nor had he felt any different for that matter. Things had just started to change around him. Laureen had been the one supposed to help him figure it out.

However, the circus had been the place he had gained control over his spark, not the bookshop.

Now, Stiles could perfectly steer his spark, tell it where to go and what to do.

It was like moving any part of his body. He didn't need to think about how to it. He only needed to think about doing it. Sometimes it was harder, sometimes it was easier. Just like it was moving one's leg when running in sand or swimming.

Within seconds, he had thought of it and it had happened.

He looked up at The Dollmaker and nodded.

"Be my guest." The Dollmaker pointed at the sack at Stiles' feet "Open the sack and look at what's inside."

Pierre half-smiled unsurely, crossing his arms.

"You can't possibly think…" he looked at Stiles, at the sack "C'est impossible…"

The Dollmaker didn't move a muscle.

"Go," Pierre looked at one of his bodyguards and pointed at the sack "what are you waiting for? Look!"

A net of electricity vibrated in the air as the man approached, ready to electrocute anyone that dared to move. The bold man kneeled before the brown heap and pulled a rusty knife from his belt. He cut the sack open, white powder peeking from the inside.

With nerve-shaking calmness he dropped his knife to his side and grabbed a handful of the substance. His thumb played with the powder, moving it back and forth. Finally, he opened his palm, the powder falling back inside the opened sack.

The bodyguard got back on his feet, dusting off his hands against each other.

"Not flour anymore." He looked at Pierre "Don't know how but it worked."

The most delighted of fires sparked within Pierre's eyes, a twisted smile drawing its way through his mouth. With his gaze on the sack, he laughed, shaking his head. For a second his eyes fell on Stiles, respect, astonishment and hunger on them.

Stiles tried his best not to throw up.

"Magnifique" he clapped his hands together "Let's get on with it."

It was two hours later when Stiles came to an end. He'd never pushed himself this far, never forced his spark to change as many things, to do something this big.

With trembling knees, he supported his palms on his thighs, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Besides that, he didn't want to see what he had done, tried to block it out, wanted to forget.

"Mon ami!" Pierre smiled at the Dollmaker, shook his hand "A pleasure doing business with you. You are welcomed to come back anytime you want."

His eyes fell on Stiles "And don't forget to bring him, he's more than welcome."

What the Dollmaker replied Stiles didn't get. His hands clenched into fists hating Pierre, hating The Dollmaker, hating Marcus. Hating himself for being so pathetic and week.

"Are you okay?" a hand fell on his shoulder.

It was the red-headed woman again, the one that had been observing him throughout the entire night. Stiles frowned when he saw the shadow of concern in the wrinkles around her eyes.

He'd never thought a minion was able to feel concern.

Stiles' heart was throbbing in his chest. It was too much for him. Confusion and anger and helplessness and frustration.

"I need-" his throat was closing, his sight blurring "—go to the bathroom."

The red-headed woman nodded. For a second, she disappeared from Stiles' line of sigh but returned. Helping to support him with a grip around his arm, they walked out of the shed.

Stiles' hand was still shivering when he managed to close it around the faucet. He splashed water on his face yet wasn't able to wake up from this nightmare. His heart was still pounding, his breathing staggered.

The moment his eyes landed on the bracelets around his wrists, something stirred within him. He remembered a time when he'd been in a similar position. Having a panic attack alone in the bathroom, holding on to the sink as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling into an abyss.

Scott had walked in.

Scott had walked in and convinced him it wasn't a dream.

Scott had counted to ten with him.

He looked at his hands, remembered his voice.

"Look at my hands and count with me."

"Ten."

A blanket of warmth fell over his shoulders. His breaths got deeper, his heart slower.

When his hand closed around the faucet again, he barely noticed the shaking.

Stiles took in a deep breath and looked at the mirror, at himself, imagined Scott's black mane and brown eyes standing behind him, taking care of him.

It came again.

That urge that had first gotten him into this mess.

Without thinking about it, Stiles' hands closed around one of the rolled towels on the counter. Pushing his spark one more time, he changed it. Never had it been so hard to change something as small, but Stiles needed to do it. Right now, everything depended on it.

His heart started to pound in his ears again.

But not out of fear.

Not out of panic.

It wasn't holding Stiles back.

It was encouraging him to continue.

With a blank sheet of paper in his hands, Stiles looked around Pierre's private bathroom. He only needed one more thing. Opening drawers, Stiles' gazed brushed every centimetre of their inside.

Just when he feared he'd have to push his spark again, he opened the last one and found what he was looking for. Between scissors, lighters and spare toilet papers was a pen.

Pulling it out, Stiles started writing.

Pierre is selling tremendous amounts of drugs. He gets them illegally from The Dollmaker, Edmund Schwarz. Both work together as criminals. Pierre gets the money, The Dollmaker the drugs.

The Dollmaker owns the circus Timent Magicae. He kidnaps teenagers, mostly runaways, though not all, and forces them to work for him. He threatens to kill their family if they don't do what he says. He has killed many people. He doesn't bother hiding it. He's got adults as well as some teenagers helping him, his minions.

These are some names of disappeared teenagers.

Melissa Smith

Lukas Faraji

Sheu-Fuh Yang

Carlos Hernesto Gónzales

They and many more work for the Dollmaker.

Don't be foolish and try to act before thinking. Pierre can be fooled, The Dollmaker can't. Whatever you do with this information, be careful, The Dollmaker has contacts everywhere.

Please, find a way to help us.

It was ridiculous, it was desperate, it was hopeless.

But Stiles needed to do something.

He couldn't go back to the circus after doing what he had done without trying it.

Without trying to do the right thing.

His hands were shaking again, but like his heart, not out of fear. Like the moment he had changed the gun, something golden and pure soared through his veins. Something familiar and reassuring.

Doing the right thing.

Fighting back.

Stiles took in a deep breath and stepped back, eyeing the small bathroom with uttermost of caution. If this was going to work, it had to be thought out, planned, calculated.

There wasn't an idea in Stiles' mind how this could work out, why this simple message should change anything. It was only a desperate attempt to leave something behind. To not go down just like that.

His eyes inspected the drawers. They wouldn't work. The sink was also out of question, the counter, the toilet. None of that worked.

Everything halted when his gaze fell on his reflection.

The mirror.

It was decided within the same second. Stiles climbed on the counter and stuffed the folded paper behind the mirror. It was thicker than the distance between the glass and wall but Stiles wasn't taking any risks. He positioned it exactly over the screw attaching the construction to the wall.

It wouldn't fall that way.

Who he hoped would find it was out of his wit.

Stiles stepped back, pressed his palms against the mirror, shook it.

Nothing fell.

Taking in a deep breath, Stiles looked at his reflection for one last time, imagined Scott standing behind him.

The small voice told him it would be okay.

He opened the door, walked out of the bathroom. Nancy was waiting for him. The red-headed woman that had introduced herself on their way to the bathroom.

For a moment Stiles feared she would walk into the bathroom, look at everything, make sure he hadn't done anything he shouldn't.

She turned around and walked towards the exit.

Stiles supressed a relieved sigh.

There was no way either Scott nor Stiles could've known that Explosion, the club Stiles had just provided with a considerable amount of drugs, was only a few kilometres away from Beacon Hills.

Not even the moon peeked from behind the clouds when Stiles drove back to the circus, not paying any attention to the signs rushing past him. His thoughts were somewhere else entirely. His legs shivering, hoping Alicia wouldn't come anywhere near him. If she did, everything would be ruined.

Meanwhile, Scott laid on his bed, but didn't waste a thought on sleeping. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he was going to figure out what had happened to Stiles, what secrets Timent Magicae hid, what The Dollmaker wanted.

And he would get Stiles out of there even if it was the last thing he did.

Neither of them knew this day had brought them one step closer to seeing each other again.

Hello people :D,

I'm sorry it took this long to update. But here it is!

I hope you liked the chapter and thank you for reading!

I just wanted to put a disclaimer here. As you might have noticed, this story has been turning out to be pretty dark. It turned out to have a darker tone than what I initially expected.

The story will maintain this tone and some delicate topics will be mentioned (Like in this chapter). I will treat them with the utter most of respect. They are only there to help move the plot forward and add depth to the story.

However, I do feel oblidagted to warn or at least tell you beforehand.

It won't be anything graphic or descriptive. Nonetheless, better safe than sorry, right?

Please, if you have any thoughts about this chapter or the story in general, let me know. The reviews help keeping me motivated and they always make my day.

So, tyess, thank you very much for leaving a review again. I'm sorry closing your eyes didn't work XD. Honestly, your reviews have helped a lot motivating me to write, so thank you very much. Regarding the questions you asked on chapter 4; I will remain quiet. Hopefully you'll be surprised. :)

And dear Lunasky99 also thank you for writing a review. I hope this chapter satiates your curiousity (somewhat). I still hope you remain curious, though. Not all answers can come that quickly. And also thank you for commenting since the beginning of the story. :D

Thank you again for reading!

I hope you all have a nice day!

Melpomene :D