AN: Peter/Chris snuck up from behind and became one of my otp's. Go figure. This has been up for a while on Ao3 but i figured i'd put it here too :)

title is a quote from Wuthering Heights.

tw: torture in this chapter.

Unbeta'd, enjoy!

When Peter retells this story later (and rest assured he will retell this because he did not transcend the boundaries of life and death just to be killed by a bunch of jumped up Alphas in their kink dungeon) he will be very careful to mention the fact that this was all Stilinski's fault.

Here's how it went: Derek and his baby betas (sans Scott of course because he was still playing Romeo and Juliet with Allison Argent) headed out on a mission to strike against the Alphas (they hoped anyway.) Derek, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to leave Peter behind (because all the best battle strategies began with living your most - no your only- experienced soldier behind) to continue researching and generally hold down the fort (read: we're leaving you behind because you might turn psycho and kill one of us which Peter wouldn't do, except maybe Jackson because Jesus that boy had some serious issues) Anyway, no matter how hard Peter protested Derek wouldn't relent and since he was Peter's Alpha he figured he may as well just sit back and let this one play out.

Stiles hadn't exactly been pleased about being left behind either (so at least Peter had gotten a kick out of watching Stiles trying to talk down an increasingly irritated Derek) but then it had just been tapping away at laptops and trying to ignore the faint sounds of his pack getting further and further away and Stiles getting progressively more frustrated.

It was Stiles' idea to move on the Alpha's base.

Peter's still not entirely sure how the stupid kid talked him in to actually doing it.

So they'd moved on their base, thinking they'd catch it unguarded and well, it hadn't gone as planned. Peter had been captured and that dumb kid had gotten away (God knows how.)

There are certain rules about what you can and can't do to prisoners usually during pack conflicts, the trouble is Peter's fairly certain Derek won't be in any hurry to bargain for his life, he certainly won't be riding in on a white horse to break him free. Peter's kind of just hoping that the Alpha pack don't know that (and he's kind of wishing they'd caught Stilinski too because Derek would charge in then - he'd possibly also be so rash he got everyone killed but that's neither here not there.) So that means he's on his own. Again.

It's one of the younger ones who's caught him, one of the twins, the poor thing looks so overjoyed at catching him Peter's almost sorry to tell the kid he'll be no use as a bargaining chip.

The kid has tied him up in what looks like a torture chamber (or S&M dungeon) and the chains are pure silver melded with something rippling underneath the metal that Peter can't quite get a read on. It holds him arms spread-wide, chained to a wall, his legs chained beneath him (he reaches out through his pack bond and he can't feel it properly anymore, it's like forcing himself through molasses or fog and that's when a little worm of fear works its way in to his mind.)

He's left alone for almost half an hour before the alpha flounces in, teeth out and glinting in the pale light of the room.

"Look, kid, as flattering as this is and not that I don't love all this kinky shit, you're a little young for me." Peter begins.

"Peter Hale," the kid purrs. "Last I heard you were dead, or as good as dead anyway."

Peter's not entirely sure how this kid knows him but then the Hale line was almost legendary, the fire must have been big news. "Didn't stick," Peter answers with a smirk.

The kid quirks an eyebrow, "She said you were funny, 'The Hale Sense of Humour' she called it. Do you like those chains? We had them charmed specially."

Ah, so it's magic then. That's not good. Witches being involved in anything is not good.

The kid stalks across to him, Peter supposes its supposed to be intimidating but this Alpha looks about the same age as Derek's baby betas and hey, Peter has, you know, been reborn. Nothing like death to dull your sense of fear. The kid pulls out, of all things, a blade, intricately carved with ancient symbols. His father could read those, his brother too. Maybe he could have once but the fire has left him with a sort of muddled, raw, jumble of memories that he's still trying to reorganise.

"It dulls your senses, see?" The kid says, tapping the chains with the knife. "Your wolf senses, the ones connecting you to your pack."

Peter growls but his fangs don't slide down.

The kid chuckles, "You won't be able to shift either." Then his eyes flash red, "Guess what else?"

He drags the knife across Peter's skin and it burns (like wolfsbane but it can't be because how can the kid be holding it?) Peter grits his teeth against the pain and the boy licks his fangs. "You can't heal," he says gleefully.

Duh.

"How long do you think it'll take you to die?" The kid asks, examining the bloodied blade with interest.

Peter grins lazily, "Oh, come on, kid. What makes you think death will work this time?"

It's four hours before the other Alphas are back and by that time the kid has finally grown bored of slashing at him. Peter suppresses a groan when they parade through and poke at him like he's a zoo exhibit because they're all unharmed and happy and that means that whatever Derek had been planning hadn't worked and that his pack was probably on the losing side of this particular scuffle.

He's met Kali before, heard of Deucalion, the others are new to him though. Deucalion's the leader so Peter directs most of his snark at him. "You know, typically in a pack fight there'd be some attempt at bargaining by now, not that this isn't lovely." He snarls through gritted teeth.

Deucalion sniggers, "Typically, yes. But this isn't a typical case is it? Your pack doesn't seem overly concerned that you're missing and this is hardly a normal scuffle, is it?"

And Peter thinks, shit.

The twins, Ethan and Aidan, are easy to wind up though it doesn't do Peter any favours and as torture goes they're pretty unimaginative. Ennis is pretty easy too, he just likes knocking Peter about and guffawing stupidly (what the hell kind of name is Ennis anyway?) Kali is possibly his favourite because hey, who doesn't like to be smacked about by a beautiful woman every few hours? (He had an interesting upbringing okay?) None of them worry him too much, they're holding back and it's fun to pit them against each other (if you're all alphas why do you listen to him?) They've been firing questions at him intermittently, mostly about the pack, the Kanima incident, Jackson, and Peter decides he doesn't even want to know.

Deucalion though, he doesn't like.

The first time he's granted a one on one audience with Deucalion is after they've held him for about three days or so (Peter's a little fuzzy on the details since he's being, you know, tortured, plus they haven't fed him yet and he's fairly sure he's experiencing the human equivalent if three day hunger.) He strides in, all teeth and flashy suit and says in overly cheery manner, "Hey, Petey. How are you enjoying your stay with us?"

Peter looks up tiredly, "The room service here is awful."

Deucalion smiles, "I'll pass on your feelings to the housing staff." He paces around and passes out of Peter's line of sight. "You know, your pack still don't seem too concerned about you being missing, Peter. It's no fun at all." There's a shuffling sound and then Deucalion appears again, "So, I thought I'd give them a little incentive."

Ethan and Aidan come down the stairs behind him carrying a long metal pipe and a can of oil. Peter swallows. Hurry the fuck up, Derek.

He turns around again and Peter hears the familiar scrape and hiss of a match being lit, the sudden scent of smoke (and burning flesh and screaming and oh.) He gets his heart best under control (just barely) but Deucalion smirks (not quick enough.) It's only a match.

"So that must have been horrific," he enunciates slowly. "Your family burning alive like that and then all those years trapped in your head," he leans in close and drags a claw down the side of Peter's face. The blood trickles down slowly. "What did it feel like to die?"

Peter barely resists flinches away as Deucalion brings the match up close to his cheek. It meets his skin with a hiss and the stench of burnt flesh. He jerks at that (they're dying and he can't help them, he can't save them) the twins snigger.

"I've made a few adjustments to the spell binding you," Deucalion says and Aidan and Ethan start pouring a ring of oil around him and Deucalion. "This is special oil by the way, very safe to use."

Peter's heartbeat speeds up as they light the oil and hand Deucalion the pipe. The flames are close, too, too close. (ohohoh) Deucalion holds the pipe in the flames, "You know," he says, like he's not about to flay the skin off Peter with a metal pipe. "I heard you were horribly scarred by that fire, half your face melted off, was it?"

The pipe is white hot in the flames.

All Peter can smell is smoke and his family burning.

He gags.

Deucalion raises the pipe out of the flames, "Anyway, as I was saying, I've changed the spell. You still won't heal but," he grinned and his eyes flashed red as he presses the pipe to Peter's cheek, "your pack will certainly hear this."

Peter screams.

Scott jerks upright as the scream tears through his consciousness, Allison tenses beside him.

She sits up, grasping his arm, "What's wrong?"

"I don't..." Scott gasps, "I need to get to the pack."

Peter has no idea how long he's hanging there in the Alpha's dungeon, his throat raw.

He becomes aware at some point that there's something happening because he can hear crashing and yelling. They've left him alone with Ethan or Aidan (he's fairly sure not even Deucalion can tell the difference between them) again, they'd told him gleefully that they were going after Peter's pack again.

Peter can't hear his pack anymore, can't feel them through the fog.

Derek's not coming.

Peter will get out.

He will.

He just needs to rest a bit.

Just
A
Bit.

And then there are hands and someone forcing his face upwards (someone's saying something and there's this unnamable fear building in him - what if he's trapped again, broken again?) Blue eyes boring in to his.

"Chris," he murmurs.