Dean blinked at the young boy floating in front of him. "You're wearing tights," was all he could say.
"Come with me." The boy beckoned.
Dean backed up. "Hell, no."
"He's mine, Peter."
The voice came from behind and Dean spun to face this new threat. The man wore a large, feathered hat with matching red waistcoat and knee breeches. Dean knew who it was before he saw the missing hand. "Captain Hook?"
Hook smiled broadly. "See, Peter. A brigand always recognizes another. He's a pirate."
"Stay away, you fowl fiend," Peter flew between Dean and Hook. "He's a Lost Boy!" He brandished a sword.
"You've got to be kidding me," Dean continued to back way. "This is figgin' unbelievable."
They turned to face him. "Don't move, Dean. You're mine." Their voices blended, their faces momentarily skeletal.
Dean froze. "That can't be good."
The door to the study burst open and Sam barreled in. He tossed a large book onto the floor, drenching it with Holy Water. Pan and Hook screamed in unison, flashing out of existence as the book dissolved, melting across the floor.
"You all right?" Sam asked.
Dean shuddered. "To think I used to like that story."