Well as you read in the summary this a Lost Boys/ Peter Pan crossover. But I assure you this ain't exactly what you would call a fairytale. Wendy is a bit different from how she is portrayed in that tale, thanks to the situations she has been in that you will later find out about. Now, I can't tell you a lot about how she got to California in the 80s, that's something that will also be revealed in later chapters, as well as the connection between the Lost Boys from Peter Pan and The Lost Boys from the movie.

And I made this story because there isn't any other story in here that's anything like it, and I once heard someone say that if you want to read a story that hasn't been done yet, then you must write it yourself. There are some strong parts in this chapter concerning child abuse, so I apologise if I offend someone. You must remember this is just a story. And you will notice how I don't write this situation in a good light of course.

This chapter is also the shortest one I think, it works mainly as an introduction to the story.

The chapter names are the names of songs that I used for inspiration. I think it will fit nicely if you read the chapter while listening to the respective song, but that's only if you want. You can find them all in Youtube.

Sorry for any mistake. I don't currently have a beta.

Soundtrack: Janie's Got a Gun – Aerosmith.

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognisable characters or settings, both belong to the respective owners of TLB and Peter Pan. I do however own the original characters and the situations.

Chapter 1. Wendy's Got a Gun.

She pulled the trigger… and he never realised what happened. One bullet. That was all it took to end her pain, and she finally had the courage to do it. I was all over now. His peaceful face now was covered in blood, and hers was covered in sweat.

Slowly she lowered her arms, allowing the gun to fall to the floor with a silent thud, her eyes never leaving the corpse. The whole situation was too surrealistic to be true. Her conscious mind wasn't even able to acknowledge what she had done...

She had shot a person. No. She had murdered a person.

There he had been, sleeping completely unarmed in the sofa, drunk as always, and she had shot him... just like a typical cold-blooded murderer. She gave the bastard absolutely no chance to defend himself. And the worst part of the whole situation was that she didn't feel sorry at all.

Hell, she had even enjoyed it!

Closing her eyes at the horrible realisation, she let go of the mouthful of air she had been holding the whole time, and then walked backwards until her back bumped against the door.

That's when she started running… without a purpose, and without a route.

It wasn't the brightest idea, but she didn't know what else to do. She had nowhere to go. She was alone in this horrible world. The last connection to her past now lay dead on a sofa, thanks to her.

She ran and ran leaving the house behind but she never looked back.

It was starting to get dark; the last rays of light covered her sunken face. She probably looked like a zombie or a ghost, but it didn't even matter. Her appearance and everything else had stopped being of importance to her after her mother had died… after the bastard had killed her.

It was also getting cold, and to make things worse the only thing she had to keep her warm was her old leather jacket, which had way too many holes. But it wasn't like she simply could go back to get some clothes, she wasn't that stupid; and besides she hadn't left anything too important in that horrible shack.

She had never even owned anything in her life.

It wasn't like she didn't plan every detail before shooting him in the head. She had taken all his money and all the food she could fit in her backpack right after he passed out in the couch with the bottle of scotch on his lap. Right now she was as prepared as she could ever hope to be. But it wasn't enough. Maybe she would survive a couple of days, but she doubted the nearest town was that closed… not without a car at least.

She stopped running when she finally reached the highway, not wanting to waste her energies. After getting her breath back she started to walk again, following the road this time in a slow pace. She couldn't even see the house anymore which was a great relief. It wasn't like she was afraid of the cops or anything, no one would probably notice the body until it was well rotten and started smelling. No, she just hated that place.

She felt the cold wind battle against her hair with his deadly snare. It was a mere reminder of the many ways one could die in a situation like hers. Maybe she would freeze to dead. Didn't she deserve it after all? She had killed a person. It became impossible for her to shake the thought away.

She kept walking until she spotted a small pond at the side of the road. She sat down and then washed her hands. The water was very cold but she didn't care she just wanted to get rid of her terrible sin. The heavy feeling of the gun still lingered in them.

She washed her face, trembling a little, and then she opened her eyes and gaped at her reflection.

How could she have change so much in such few years? She didn't even remember the last time she had seen her own face, but she was sure it hadn't always been the shattered one on the water in front for her. She didn't recognize the girl who gazed back at her with cold brown eyes. It was one of the most broken sights she had ever witnessed.

She couldn't possibly be that girl. What had happened to her?

Not being able to hold them any longer, the tears started running down her face without control. She hated herself more that she had ever hated anyone; even more than she had ever hated the bastard. She hated how much she had changed physically and emotionally, but the thing she hated the most was she knew she would never be that hopeful little girl again. She had lost all innocence inside that house.

After all this time she was finally a grown up, with all the horrifying things that entailed.

She fell down by the pond, crying for all she had lost, for the life she could never get back; and as the time passed by she felt sleep wrapping her mind in its long silver wings, as her eyes got lost between the stars.

The young girl watched intently as the paramedics took the deceased body of her mother out of the shack. Her childish mind didn't understand all that had happened in the past hours. The sight of his stepfather strangling her mother with his bare hands was too much for a twelve-year-old girl. She didn't know why he had done it. He loved her mommy… she had always claimed so.

The girl walked back inside the house as the ambulance disappeared behind the trees. She headed into her room and slowly closed her door. Everything was still in the same place it had been when her mommy had come to say goodnight and tuck her into bed. How could she possibly be dead now? And why could she cry? She obviously felt very sad.

She sat down by her big window, looking at the stars, trying to understand what had gone wrong with her mother and her stepfather. Then there was a knock at her door.

"Wendy…" The voice said. "Let me in Gwen. We need to talk"

She stopped breathing. He had called her Gwen, just like her mother used to do…

"Come on Wendy! Just let me in." He said this time a little more annoyed. Slowly she got up and then opened the door, not wanting to make him angry like her mommy had done.

His face was full of red scars. Nail scars… And his brown eyes stared at her in a way she didn't understand.

"What…What happened?" She asked the first thing that came to her mind, her voice breaking a little.

"Now now… Don't look at me like that girl." He stepped into her room and then locked the door behind him, never taking his roaming eyes off her. "What exactly did you see?"

She started to tremble. She remembered her mother putting a finger on her lips as he strangled her. Her mommy hadn't wanted him to know that Wendy had been watching the whole scene.

Looking back at his black eyes she felt fear like she had never felt before, and then she shook her head. "I didn't see anything…"

"Don't lie to me!" He screamed and grabbed her arms with force. "Now tell me what you saw!"

Tears started to fall down her cheeks against her will. She didn't want to cry and she didn't want to tell him… but she was just so scared. "I just… I…. you were…choking mommy!"

His grip on her arms got stronger. Wendy didn't know what was going on. He had never acted this way before. He had always been nice to her since he had married her mother a couple of years ago.

"You need to know little Wendy that I only did what I had to do… and I will do it again if necessary. You understand me?"

Was he also capable of killing her? She didn't want to die…

"But you don't need to worry… you know that Daddy loves you." Suddenly he wasn't gripping her arms anymore. He was stroking them tenderly while staring weirdly at her. Then his hands started to caress her neck and face, to finally rest in her small breasts. She wasn't breathing anymore.

"If you fight…you will just end like your mother, child." His hands lowered even more, and then she ran toward the door, trying to escape. But he grabbed her by the hair and threw her into the bed with a demonic expression on his old factions. Next thing, he was all over her and she couldn't stop crying.

"No, no, no…PLEASE! NO!"

But the man didn't listen to her. She was in pain but he didn't care. What would her mommy think of her being so weak? With every second that passed she wished she could die and fly toward the stars, leaving everything behind… like she had done before so long ago on a different lifetime perhaps.

And then between the pain and her tears she saw his beautiful shadow standing in the window frame. A dark angel gazing at the scene. His cold blue eyes never leaving hers.

But it was only her imagination. It was all her pretending like usual. Because she knew, deep inside her childish heart that he had been real once. And had he truly been standing there he would have saved her. Of course he would.