"You can't actually be planning on going through with this, Stiles." As they walked down the hallway, Lydia's harsh whisper nearly made Stiles turn back. That, and the smell of sulfur that was enough to make him gag. But the demon clientele wasn't exactly minimal in a place like this.

"I just need you to back me up here, I can't back out now." The smell made him even more jittery than usual, and they had checked for weapons at the door. He felt naked, exposed, as he always did without some form of protection.

"Are you aware of how crazy this is?" Lydia's voice raised and their escorts glanced back, eyes flashing black as they entered the viewing room. Stiles felt Lydia immediately grab his hand.

"I know…" Stiles muttered into her ear, his eyes remaining locked on the scene in front of him, "But this is something I have to do."

It wasn't the auction house itself that made him uneasy, it was the idea behind it. Even after years of normalizing the slave trade, Stiles couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that this was the world now. The hunters and the hunted, nothing more. He had lucked out being wealthy, but he was still human. And demons were always looking for a new host to play with.

There were plenty of them here now, guarding all the exits as other buyers flooded in, human and supernatural alike. But none of them paid any mind to a scarred up eighteen-year-old and his banshee sidekick. No, their eyes were all focused on the far wall. Stiles found himself unable to look away and Lydia's hand never left his. She didn't like this either, but he couldn't blame her.

"We need to get closer." Stiles muttered and Lydia silently followed as they made their way through the crowd of bodies to the wall, demons standing guard at either side.

"Do you know which one is him?"

It was then Stiles fully let himself examine the captives chained to the wall. There was over twenty of them, chained up with their arms over their heads, almost completely naked, electrical shock wires attached to them in case anyone tried to fight their bonds. He knew by the collars which ones were werewolves. Mountain ash collars stopped the change and these slavers weren't taking any chances.

"Yeah…I do. Number 18." Stiles knew which was the wolf he was looking for, even though he hadn't seen him in years. Not since before the fire, before his dad was ripped from him, before Beacon Hills had been gutted. But he knew it in the eyes, and that was enough.

Derek Hale.

"He's not going to come willingly." Lydia was right about that. If a look could kill, this werewolf would've murdered the entire room. But he still had fight in him, and that was important.

"Neither will his uncle."

"You're taking him too?" The older man beside Derek looked just as murderous, but there was something more predatory about him, arrogant even. But his eyes said something else.

"Nope. You are." Stiles refused to look at the banshee then, knowing exactly what her face must be doing. This wasn't the part of the plan he'd shared with her.

"If you think for one minute I'm taking some older, creepy werewolf into my house, you really have gone crazy!" Her fast, harsh whisper only made Stiles smile nervously, "And I'm not spending the money."

"You won't have to. I'm buying him for you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I'm not leaving them, Lydia. I can't." He felt the werewolf's eyes on him and heat blossomed under his skin despite the look of disgust. No…Stiles couldn't leave these two there.

"And what am I supposed to do with him? Take him shopping with me?"

"Take him shopping, make him do your laundry, let him go for all I care. Just…please. Please do this one thing for me," Stiles looked at her because he couldn't bear seeing the faces of everyone he would be leaving here, all the people he couldn't set free. Their fate was something he couldn't control, "I'll owe you the biggest favor in history."

"Stiles…"

"Just trust me, okay? We could use more help hunting anyway. Don't make me beg, because I will." Lydia seemed to consider her options for a moment before sighing, clearly having some form of sympathy for Stiles' crazy plan.

"Call the damn auctioneers over already."

"Excuse me!" Stiles nearly stumbled as he caught the eye of one of the workers, raising his hand up as they came over, "I'd like all your info on numbers 18 and 19." The smile on the man's face gave Stiles a chill and Lydia's grip on his hand tightened.

"Ah, two of our most popular slaves," The man gave Stiles two sheets of paper, adding, "And two of our most expensive."

"I'll pay whatever it costs."

There was a debt that needed paying. And some things, money couldn't buy back.

Beacon Hills hadn't been a town in a long time. It was the shadow of what it once was, and Derek knew that ghosts were everywhere in a place like this. The last time he set foot in town was when everything he loved went up in flames. Before the demons had taken over. Before he turned to stone. But you did what you had to do in order to survive in a world that became hell on Earth.

It happened when he was in high school, but even then, no one really talked about it. The Hale's knew enough about things in the supernatural world because they were a part of it, but humans remained blissfully unaware. Or they were, until more and more people got possessed. Some door to hell had been opened and no one was able to close it. Damn hunters…always did more harm than good. Except this wasn't a simple clean up job, no, this was possession on a mass scale. And it became clear that these demons weren't looking for the apocalypse. They wanted to set up shop topside and rule the roost.

No one really stood a chance.

Derek fled the moment Beacon Hills started getting more corrupted. And when everyone found out that werewolves existed. He and Peter skipped town. But hunters, slavers, and demons made them separate on the road. Derek knew that slavers had caught him a while ago, but it wasn't safe for a wolf to be out in the open. Not anymore. He'd fought his way back to Beacon Hills to find his uncle, but the town was a ruin by then.

Even his old house had crumbled more, and the sight of it made him sick. He smelled sulfur and didn't bother holding back the growl in his throat. This was his fucking house. His. And no one had the right to take it.

"I thought I smelled dog." One of the demons stepped out of the house, a smirk on her lips as her eyes turned jet black. Two more followed and Derek figured he might actually have a chance taking them down. But he wasn't a hunter; all he had were his claws.

"This is private property."

"Oh, that's cute. Let me guess, this tattered, piece-of-shit house is yours?" The demon stepped closer, the other two following as she stepped onto the ground. Derek's eyes glowed blue as his face changed, claws coming out.

"Leave."

"Or what? You'll growl at us? Please, fido, you know you can't win here. Put the claws away and maybe we'll kill you quicker." Derek let out a warning growl and one of the other demons let out a laugh.

"Oooo how scary!" He waved a hand and Derek went flying across the yard, slamming into a tree trunk as he fell to the ground.

"GET OUT!" Derek bellowed as he stood, roaring as he ran towards the demons, clearly with some sort of death wish. But he had barely started running when one of the demons yelled as a bullet pierced their chest.

"Blessed bullets!" It cried out in pain as it fell, smoke rising from the wound. A group of humans appeared from the woods and all hell broke loose. More bullets were shot and Derek saw someone wielding a super soaker, the holy water inside making short work of demon skin. The female demon was strong, able to throw some of them back, but someone fired salt shotgun shells into her and even she went down. Derek barely had time to help.

"Thank…" He was about to say as he got a face full of mountain ash, making him choke.

"Someone get the chains!" One of the humans yelled as he felt an electric shock go into his side, another roar of pain escaping him as he tried to blink the ash out of his eyes. He felt a metal bat hit him whenever the shocks would stop, and he couldn't fight back.

"Damn demons nearly tore him to pieces. You know how much one like him is worth?" He felt heavy chains wrap around his wrists and when he tried to fight, he got another face full of mountain ash.

"What…" He started to say, but a boot collided hard into his ribs.

"Shut your fucking mouth, mongrel."

He didn't ask again, not when he knew exactly what was happening. If these were hunters, they would have killed him already. No, this was something far worse. Maybe he wouldn't need to find Peter after all. Maybe he'd be brought right to him.

"Too bad he isn't an alpha, those always go for more."

"Just get him in the truck! Make sure the ash is in place." Hands roughly grabbed him and forced him into the bed of a truck nearby. He fought against the hold until he felt a needle enter his skin, injecting him with something that felt like poison in his veins.

"That'll keep him quiet. Now let's get out of here before any patrols come by. They won't like what we did to those demons." He heard other doors slam but he could still barely see, focusing more on the pain that was slowly making its way through his whole body. And worst yet, they had lined the truck bed in mountain ash, so any hopes of flinging himself out were out of the question.

For years he'd been careful, so fucking careful…but seeing those demons at his house had made him lose it. And now it would cost him his freedom. Because these humans were the exact ones he wanted to avoid: werewolf slavers. He only hoped wherever they were taking him wasn't like those underground fight pits he heard of. Either way, he was going to be someone's property, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Not after everything.

"Why hasn't this one been sold?"

"He's one of our more difficult captives. But he does excellent in our Dogfights."

Peter wanted to spit at these assholes, it was his only line of defense at this point. They wired him up more than any other slave here as if he really could rip his way out while being zapped with all that electricity. Imbeciles. It was all for show anyway, they wanted him to look dangerous so no one would buy him.

"He's attractive enough." The woman said as she stepped closer, examining him. Just a little more…She reached out to touch his chest and Peter took the opportunity to spit right in her face, a smug look crossing his. She recoiled with revulsion. If they wanted to treat him like an animal, then he would act like one.

"Juice him!" The worker yelled out as Peter clenched his teeth as the electricity shot through him, making his very bones shake. But he was used to that by now.

"I apologize ma'am." The worker said as he tried to offer the woman a handkerchief but she batted him away, moving out of the auction room in a hurry, two escorts with her. The electricity stopped and Peter slouched, his wrists bearing his weight.

"Will you ever learn to behave, Hale?" The worker stepped up to the werewolf, his eyes turning black as he clicked his tongue.

"It's not in my nature, unfortunately." Peter grinned wearily and the worker summoned two guards over to take him down.

"Bring number 19 to the Pit. I think he's ready for another fight."

"Did Malphas okay it?"

"She'll want her best fighter to impress her guests. You don't want her angry, do you?" Peter had learned enough about the head demon at the auction house to know that she was a raging bitch when mad. And her underlings knew it too.

"We'll take care of it." Peter didn't bother fighting them as they unchained him from the wall, it wasn't worth it. If he was being sent to the Pit, he'd need to preserve his strength.

The auction house was an impressive place. It had to be with all of its wealthy clientele. But the underground was a different story. The slave quarters were holes in the ground and the only time the captives were ever cleaned up was before a showing. The Pit was one of the worst places, save for where they tortured people. It was never cleaned, usually was coated in blood from past Dogfights, and had the distinct smell of death. Two werewolves went in, and only one ever came out. People paid big money to see them fight to the death and luckily, Peter wasn't exactly easy to kill.

Survival was his art now, killing the only thing he really cared about anymore. He was good and after dozens of fights, he still hadn't lost. And he didn't plan on losing anytime soon. Just like he didn't plan on becoming someone's plaything either.

"Prep the dog, Malphas wants to see him fight." The guards handed him off to the pit-leader, who started his routine inspection, checking Peter's eyes, mouth, reflexes. After Peter took one of his fingers off, they didn't feed him for a week. He still won his fight.

"Think today will be the day you finally get your ugly ass beat?" The pit-leader asked and Peter simply shrugged.

"Doesn't seem likely."

"And why is that?"

"I can't lose." Peter could hear the crowd gathering outside the metal doors. The Pit was filling up for the fight and the spectators were always hungry for blood. And winning their bets.

"They wanna off you, or sell you. The house is losing money on a wolf who won't die."

"You can't kill what's already dead." The pit-leader shook his head as he pulled off Peter's mountain ash collar, still keeping his hands bound until the last moment.

"Save the dramatics, they make you look like a pussy." Peter's eyes glowed blue at that and at the same time, the metal doors swung open and the werewolf looked out into the dirty, concrete battleground that he'd become so used to. Before he could say anything else, his wrists were freed and he was pushed into the circle, door closing behind him. People cheered from above, protected by a high metal wall that was electrified. Damn demons thought of everything.

But part of him lived for this. He let his face change as he let out a roar to the crowd, and everyone cheered for him. They knew exactly who he was. Peter's attention turned to the metal door opposite him as it opened and his opponent was pushed into the ring. But when they met eyes, Peter felt a chill run through him.

"Derek?" He hissed and Derek looked relieved, confused, and worried all at once. If that was even possible for him, "They got you too, nephew?"

"I came back to find you."

"Well, excellent job I must say." Peter didn't quite like the possible outcome here. He knew how strong Derek was, he had Talia's blood in him after all. But Peter could take him, and it wasn't something he wanted to do…for the most part. Survival still meant survival.

"I'm going to get us out of here." The serious look on his nephew's face looked sincere and so the older werewolf fought back his own bitter laugh.

"By all means, give it a go. Although I doubt both of us will leave the Pit alive." Peter let his claws out and Derek seemed to understand where this was going.

"Enough talking!" Both Peter and Derek looked up and saw a woman gazing down at them with black eyes, anger written across her harsh face. Malphas may have been beautiful, but she was the worst demon in the entire auction house, "Fight. Or go to Alastor." Now the smile crossed her lips and it was as venomous as ever.

Peter didn't wait to strike at Derek, he refused to be sent to the torturous demon. Not again. He'd been here long enough to know how things worked and he could tell by the way Derek glared at him that his nephew didn't understand.

"We need to fight, Derek. I won't go back to Alastor." Peter hit Derek again, clawing across his chest and Derek let out an angry growl.

"So you plan on killing me?"

"What he'll do to you will make you wish you were dead." Peter got in a few more hits before Derek actually hit back, and the older werewolf could tell that he hadn't been a captive long; he still had his strength.

"How long have you been here?" Derek asked and Peter let out a laugh. He didn't have the answer, he lost count months ago, maybe years. And Derek seemed to understand that by his reaction. There was a fear in his nephew's eyes then and he recognized it, it was the same he had once. The fear of death, fear of being trapped. It all faded eventually.

Peter reached out and grabbed Derek in a hold, slamming him in the ground with a roar as he quickly whispered, "If we both go unconscious at the same time, they'll take us both out." It would buy them some time if anything. Derek was pretty enough to get bought up and Peter wouldn't have to kill another member of his family.

If Derek agreed with the plan, Peter couldn't be sure, but his nephew jumped to his feet and starting slashing at the older werewolf. He pushed him across the room but Peter just lunged back. And the dance continued like that. Peter was exhausted and he felt Derek hold back, wanting to wait for the exact moment. Derek broke one of Peter's arms and he responded by shattering his knee. Blood filled the older werewolf's mouth but he just spat it out, landing hit after hit on Derek's head before he got a strong swat to his jaw as he started falling. Black formed around his vision but he felt Derek slam into the ground across from him.

And the whole world turned black.

"You've caused quite a stir trying to buy up my most prized slaves, Mr. Stilinski." Stiles was trying hard not to fidget and not to completely freak out about the fact that he'd been brought in to see Malphas. Alone.

"What can I say? I'm a stir-the-pot sort of guy." He offered a smile but she didn't return it, her face about as friendly as a viper. And her all-black suit didn't make her any less intimidating.

"I normally dislike that quality in humans," She crossed her legs and Stiles felt like she could probably hear how hard his heart was beating, "It's interesting to me that you've chosen the Hale's. Any particular reason?"

"I have a thing for brooding brunettes."

"And what about the uncle?"

"He's going to be a gift for my friend, you can't be too careful nowadays and she needs someone to protect her. Being a human doesn't exactly make me the best choice." Malphas eyed him carefully and Stiles made sure he watched what he said. The demon leaned forward and her gaze seemed to pierce right into him.

"That can easily be remedied. I could find a host of demons who wouldn't mind occupying even a body as lanky as yours. Just say the word." She said the last sentence almost seductively and Stiles felt bile rise in his throat. He wanted to say 'No fucking way you evil bitch' but luckily he was a little smarter than that.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I like the whole being-in-control-of-my-body thing."

"A shame…we'd make good use of you," It was moments like these Stiles thanked his wealth. Money really was power these days and without it, he would've been a human meatsuit a long time ago, "Back to business. I'm reluctant to give these two up, especially the older one. He's one of our best fighters though revenue has been suffering...People have been eager to watch uncle and nephew fight again."

"You made them fight?"

"Is there a problem?" Stiles froze. The idea that she made them fight to the death made him feel sick, and no doubt she wouldn't let them off easy next time. The boy only shook his head and she continued talking, "The older one will be pricey, but the younger has worth as well. And he's a feisty one. Doesn't particularly like fire, so if you're looking for a way to break him…"

"I'm sure I'll find my own way of dealing with him."

"And what exactly are you intentions for my young dog, Mr. Stilinski? Personal protector? Bed slave?"

"I didn't think buying a slave came with so many questions." He could feel himself get close to snarky territory which would have been fine if he wasn't negotiating with a high level demon.

"I take a very deep interest in what becomes of my slaves. We do, after all, sell the best in the state. Though the Hale's haven't quite submitted to our standards of servitude."

"I think I'll make good use of his mouth." The words slipped from Stiles' lips and he felt heat spread across his face which only made a dark smirk cross her lips.

"That's what I like to hear," She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward as her eyes turned black, something hungry in her gaze, "Now, let's discuss price."

"I'll give you fifteen thousand for both of them."

"You know that price is insulting," She shook her head at him as she stood up, leaning on her desk as she looked down at him, "You can do better than that."

"Twenty thousand." Stiles figured he would aim lower than their worth in the hopes she'd give him a deal. But it didn't seem likely.

"Warmer, but still insufficient."

"Thirty thousand. Fifteen for each of them which I know is more than you charge for other werewolves. And as valuable as Peter Hale may be to you, he's practically unsellable."

"Yet here you are willing to buy him."

"I like a good challenge." He stared into her black eyes and the air was heavy for a moment. But then her eyes changed back to icy blue and she held out her hand.

"We have a deal," Stiles shook her hand as she moved around the desk and opened the door he came in through, "Now, you need to inspect your new slave. It's customary."

"Inspect him?"

"The old one won't be necessary, your banshee can see to him later. But our younger wolf…I'm eager to see how he takes to you. Come with me," Stiles followed Malphas as two guards joined them, leading him back into another room in the auction house where both Derek and Peter waited, heavily restrained. Lydia was still nowhere to be seen, "Take number 19 to be prepped. Number 18 will go once our client has examined and paid for him."

"What? We've been bought? By him?" Peter said in disbelief and Derek looked ready to rip someone's throat out.

"Silence him," Was all Malphas said as a guard prodded a baton into Peter's side, shocking him as he howled, unable to change because of the collar. Stiles did everything he could not to flinch. They dragged Peter out and the demon beckoned Derek forward, the guards pushing him towards Stiles, "Strip him."

"What?"

"What?" Both Stiles and Derek said at the same time and the guard ripped off the pair of briefs the werewolf wore, a growl escaping his lips as Stiles felt himself turn red.

"Does he fit your standards? And feel free to touch, he does belong to you now."

Stiles nearly fell over when Malphas spoke and Derek fought the guards who held it but they had clearly made sure he wasn't at full strength. And the gaze the demon gave Stiles made him realize he had to play his part, or else. And so he took a step closer to Derek, swallowing hard as he reached up and let his fingertips touch the werewolf's muscled chest. He also tried desperately to keep his eyes away from anything below eye level. Not thinking about how naked he was seemed really, really important.

"Um…yep, this is good. Very good. Awesome."

"Are you certain?" Stiles felt Malphas move behind him, her hand moving over his as she guided his hand down Derek's chest. Please, please don't let me touch his dick. Stiles licked his lips because he knew he couldn't back out, couldn't show any weakness. But the thought of fondling this werewolf in front of everyone was a bit much. The werewolf growled and tried to pull away but the demons held him firm.

"I'm typically more private about this sort of thing."

"Ah, so innocent," Malphas released his hand and Stiles snatched it back like it was burned, meeting Derek's eyes finally and he saw something deeper than pain there, something lost, "But I respect my clients. Take number 18 away for transport." Derek growled as the guards forced him away the same way they took Peter.

"I have the money." Stiles said finally as he pulled three sets of wrapped bills from his inner jacket pocket.

"You know my rules," Malphas seemed pleased that Stiles had taken the time to prepare the money to her exact standards. Lydia had made sure they did their research. He handed the demon the money, still baffled that he had actually gone through with this, "Your slave will be delivered promptly. I thank you for doing business with me, Mr. Stilinski. And I will be checking in."

The demon turned from him and left, allowing the guards to escort him back to the auction room where Lydia stood impatiently waiting, tapping her high-heeled foot against the ground. When she saw Stiles, slight relief crossed her face. He felt better just seeing her.

"That took about ten years."

"It felt like twenty," Stiles sighed as they headed for the exit, "Remind never to make deals with demons again. She made me…inspect Derek. And he was naked. Emphasis on the naked."

"Did you touch his…?" Stiles nearly choked when she said it, and her eyebrows raised at the reaction.

"No. Well, almost. But not because I wanted to!"

"Sure," Lydia said with a slight smile as they made their way to Stiles' Jeep, "They're going to be at our houses when we get home, won't they?"

"Yeah, yeah they will."

And that was the part he dreaded the most.