3rd Person POV

"You know what's funny?" The middle-aged man asked in an arrogant manner, causing the young man to look up from the chains holding him to the cold concrete wall. Stiles only raises his eyebrows in response, not really caring if he continues his thought or not. Stiles was tired, hungry, and in pain. He had been here for what felt like days, and he'd been tortured numerous times a day for information he refused to provide. Stiles was sure that he had broken bones, and his voice was raspy from his continuous screaming for hours a day. Poor Stiles wasn't aware of his abilities as a Spark. He only knew what Peter had told him, and he couldn't believe a thing that came out of the man's mouth open-mindedly. Peter narrowed his eyes in annoyance at the other's disinterest before harshly grabbing the boy's chin and jerked it to face himself. "Must I remind you that I could kill you right now, quite easily in fact?"

Stiles only glares, exceedingly uncomfortable with the lack of distance between them. "Oh wow. You'll show me. In case you forgot, Peter, I already died once. I'm tied with you, now," Stiles retorts and jerks his chin out of the werewolf's strong hold. Stiles' physical condition gets worse seemingly by the minute. The protruding bags under his eyes were becoming more prominent, as well as becoming a nasty purple color that resembles bruising. His already skin-and-bone figure somehow became skinnier, making the teen look more sick than just slender.

Peter growls before returning to his stance against an old pillar. "Black markets are supposedly illegal, but you can get anything on them. There's such thing as a Supernatural Black Market, and you can get rich from just a single creature if they're valuable enough. You knew that, didn't you Stiles?" Stiles once again looks up from the heavy metal clasped around his ankle. Okay, the man had piqued his interest. So the teen slowly shakes his head. "Interesting. So anyway, sometimes, the universe has a sadistic sense of humor-"

"Oh so kind of like you," Stiles' eyebrows raise, almost daring the man to prove him wrong.

But Peter just retaliates with a small smile. "Sure, if that's what you'd like. As I was saying, the universe sometimes makes it so people you would never guess would be supernatural. People that are only known to be human, yet they are the most valuable."

Stiles mind begins working at an inhuman speed, and he thinks he knows where this is going. But just to be sure, he asks, "What does this have to do with me?" He couldn't control the overwhelming dread from rising in his chest like bile after the tilt-a-whirl.

Peter pushes off of the pillar and kneels in front of the small boy once again. "There were many ways that I knew you were a Spark. One obviously being how quickly you processed the Kanima venom, but here's one that you probably didn't know. Supernaturals can't mate to humans, but I happen to know someone mated to you. And that brings us back to the market... Think about it this way: a teenage boy- and attractive one at that- that hasn't yet mated, and is also a Spark. That could go for millions." the elder man grins at Stiles.

Stiles eyes widen, and apprehension flooded through his veins. Peter came closer, and Stiles' eyes were squeezed shut in fear. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes and with the bravest voice he could muster, he demanded, "Get the hell away from me you freaking bastard." Wait a minute. Did Peter just call me attractive? Creepy old man.

Peter laughed. "You think it's that easy? Stiles, it's never that easy. You're inexperienced, and right now? Extremely vulnerable. Besides, if I don't pay back my sources, they'll kill me." He tried to display the most innocent face he could muster, but all Stiles could do was scoff at the attempt.

"Then go die in a freaking hole you son-of-a-bitch," Stiles growled, but it came out more like young Simba's growl.

Peter ran his thumb along Stiles' cheekbone, and Stiles jerked away, slamming his head into the wall in the process. He groans and attempts to bring his hand to his head, but the only thing gained from the endeavor was the clang of chains. "Hm, Stiles. I have until the next full moon to get rid of you, and I don't see anyone around here to stop me." The smirk on the elder's face made Stiles sick to his stomach. There was no way this was actually happening.

Peter grinned. This wasn't one that Scott would give him after making a horrible joke that only he found funny, or Connor would give him after he beat him for the last slice of cake. This was a grin that basically said, you're not getting out of this one.

Then Peter called out a man that looked frighteningly familiar. The man from the hospital those many months ago. Stiles' eyes widened as he fruitlessly yanked on the chains with all of his might. The man grinned wickedly as Stiles, eyes suggestive. "Hello, Stiles. I believe we've met before, yes? But I believe that these are by far the best circumstances we've met under."

Stiles trembled, but did his best to keep his words steady. "I should've gotten rid of you while I had the chance," he uttered menacingly with narrowed eyes.

The man laughed. "But you didn't. And now? You could be all mine, with a small price of just ten million."

Stiles cocked his head to the side. "If that price is so small, why do you wear those trashy clothes then?"

Peter growled and yanked on the chains, causing Stiles to let out a yelp as his left wrist dislocated itself. Stiles glared up at him with tears in his eyes, and the man tutted softly while crouching down to be on his level.

A burning feeling began to rise in his chest, and it was easily defined as anger. Stiles closed his eyes, trying to hide the threatening tears as well as get his temper under control.

Stiles felt himself getting even more angry as the man skimmed his fingers softly over Stiles face, wiping the few tears that escaped his eyes, and eventually down his neck and to his arm. When the man finally got to the boy's hand, he suddenly pulled away with a cry of pain.

Stiles' eyes sprang open, and he caught sight of the man's fingertips smoking with third-degree burns before he left the room shouting profanities. Peter dropped the chains and went to grab Stiles' waist to keep him from getting away. Stiles instinctively grabbed his arms to try and loosen the tight grip around him, and he saw the same results. The skin on Peter's arm immediately blistered and welted, while other parts had no skin left at all. Peter screamed and left the room before further damage could be done to himself. The teenager looked down at his hands in shock, personally witnessing their heat as they began melting through the chains. He needed to be even more apoplectic.

Deucalion killed me.

Peter kidnapped me.

Peter just tried to SELL me.

The man he tried selling me to wanted to USE me.

Next thing he knew, the chains were gone, only cooling puddles remaining. Stiles knew that he didn't have time to yell about how awesome that was because he needed to act fast. Peter had healed from burns before, and he isn't going to leave his 'money maker' alone for very long. Stiles' gaze flickered to the windows before closing his eyes, imagining them shattering.

He opened his eyes, but nothing happened.

So he closed his eyes again, breathing deeply with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. This time, he heard the sound of glass being destroyed, blown into millions of microscopic pieces.

It was a bittersweet moment when he came face to face with Scott. He wanted his powers to work so bad, but he was so happy to see his best friend. Well, more ecstatic than anything. Scott didn't hesitate enveloping Stiles in a hug, but he pulled back when he felt Stiles wince.

Just then had Scott noticed the injuries that caused his best friend difficult to just support his own weight, which was significantly less that what it had been before. Stiles' face had mostly been let alone, with the exception of a busted lip, a gash down his cheekbone, a bruises around his chin. His neck had numerous bruises of different sizes and colors, as did the other parts of his body that Scott could see. Scott noticed how his best friend was favoring his right foot, barely allowing any weight to be supported by his left one. The boy's left wrist was hanging at his side at an awkward angle. His brother was broken, no doubt about that.

"Stiles we need to get out of here, right now. So I'm going to hand you to Isaac through the window. Do you see Isaac?" Scott carefully stretched his arms in Stiles' direction, and the latter tiredly nodded while practically falling into Scott's open arms.

Scott quickly yet carefully handed Stiles to Isaac before following the pair to the patch of dead grass in front of the Hale house. The others met them there, having already completed their responsibilities of the plan.

"Is Peter-" Stiles began, still nestled into Isaac's chest. Isaac brought him closer, as if that would stop the boy's trembling.

"He's gone, Stiles. He won't even bother you again," Derek answers, before running a hand through the troubled boy's hair, leaving everyone at a loss for words. Then Derek turned on his heel and left, Meg trailing behind after giving Stiles a small smile.

Stiles couldn't see it, though, for he was already asleep.

And it was true; Peter and the other man were never going to bother them again, for Derek personally saw the life leave their eyes.

Considering this a victory, everyone piled into cars and took off toward the loft, where everyone would be staying until they were sure of Stiles' health. Stiles' body ended up carefully laid upon Lydia, Scott, and Nate.

And this was how it should be. The two packs slowly but surely joining together as one, with Stiles alive and soon-to-be well, and everyone slowly finding their place and who they belong with.

And in the words of P!NK and Nate Ruess, maybe things were never broken, but just bent.