Hey guys! Told ya the second chapter would be longer :] Enjoy!

Loud. Why was everything so loud?

I could hear the footsteps of each boy as he crunched through the leaves underfoot. I could hear the swish of blades through the foliage. I could hear my captor's breathing.

And there was pounding… Did someone have a drum? How could they keep hitting that thing for so long? It was so loud – why wouldn't it stop –

With a startled jerk I realized it was my own heartbeat.

I have to get out of here.

My captor jerked me forward and I caught a flash of a long scar on his cheek as his hood shifted. That definitely didn't look friendly.

Breathe. Deep breaths. Come on. Focus. Think!

I tried to take in my surroundings. Wherever I was, it wasn't close to home. The trees, the ground, even the air was different, and I couldn't hear any cars. That meant I was far away from any highways and it would most likely take me at least a good portion of a day to reach any sort of road.

Good god, where the hell are we?

Even if I did have enough strength to reach civilization, I had to get away from this mob first. My captor Club Guy had a weapon, but what about the rest of them? My mouth soured as my gaze swept over maybe half a dozen boys – young boys, maybe fourteen? fifteen? – armed with knives and spears.

Hoooooly shit.

And they were young boys, too. Some of them had scars just like Club Guy – on their faces, on their arms… one of the boys even had a limp. They were fighters.

This group looked lethal.

Not running away anytime soon, then.

I trudged along and prayed for some sort of distraction that would let me sprint off into the forest.

Yeah, in your too-long sweatpants and bright red tshirt. That'll work well for speed and camouflage.

I was going to die in my pajamas.

The sun had started to set by the time Club Guy finally stopped our macabre little troupe.

He came to a halt so suddenly that I nearly tripped over myself. We seemed to be in some sort of clearing just off the side of a cliff, encircled by trees. A campfire surrounded by logs burned in the middle of the camp, dazzlingly bright in the darkness of the forest. Tents dotted the space and I noted with some surprise that several of them supported treehouses as high as thirty feet up. The entire area seemed to pulse with shadow and only the darkest daylight filtered down through the whispering leaves above.

Everyone appeared to be waiting for something.

Or someone, I realized with a terrified jolt. A figure emerged from the trees, its inky black silhouette tall and proud as its owner walked in front of the fire.

Oh god this is their boss isn't it. Please don't let it be their bo- Hello.

I tried to keep my breathing even as an attractive teenager stepped toward us. More than attractive – he was stunning. Ruffled brown hair, pale skin, mischievous smile… Just what I needed to help me think on my feet in a life or death situation. I was probably going to stare at him until I died.

"Back early, I see," the boy drawled.

Oh, god.

If I didn't think I was doomed before he started speaking, then I was certainly a goner now. He said something about a hunt but all my mind could process was his breathy voice and British accent. This guy could read me the phone book and I'd still want to jump him.

Some sort of dialogue went back and forth between my captor and the sexy British guy but their words went completely over my head. I focused on the newcomer, the low notes of his voice a soothing welcome. I had slipped into a kind of dazed stupor by the time Sexy British Guy finally turned his attention to me.

"Another one?"

Does he mean me? I thought hazily.

"How'd she get here?" a boy called out.

"Yeah, we never get girls!" yelled another.

My fear came flooding back along with my senses. Who's 'we'?

Sexy British Guy raised his hands in a placating gesture. "As you know, my shadow's been rather disobedient lately. I've tried to get it to cooperate, but for the most part it's resulted in a lot of…" he eyed me. "Unwanted deliveries."

Shadow?

A murmur of recollection traveled through the crowd but SBG didn't seem to be paying the boys any attention. Instead, his eyes flickered to mine and he surveyed me with dangerous interest.

"What's your name?"

I licked my lips nervously. "Sarah."

"Sarah," he said after a moment's thought.

Please say my name again.

"And… how old are you Sarah?" he raised an eyebrow, running his tongue along the edge of his teeth.

I tried not to stare at his mouth for too long.

"Nineteen."

His second eyebrow joined the first in his surprise. "Really? Well, I suppose we can't all…" his gaze dropped to my chest and he smirked, "mature at the same rate."

I bristled. Why is it that the pretty ones are always dicks?

He seemed to find my reaction amusing because his smirk widened into a grin, serving to only make him more attractive. I fought to shake the thoughts of what I wanted to do to him from my mind.

I silently cursed Sexy British Guy. I'm supposed to be escaping, not ogling!

"Where the hell am I?" I demanded.

SBG appeared to have lost interest. "Neverland."

"Neverland." I couldn't believe my ears. "You're trying to tell me that I'm on Neverland?"

What kind of drugs is this guy taking?

"Peter Pan," SBG said with a mocking bow. "At your service."

I was pretty sure my eyes were going to fall out of my head. "Oh, no. Oh nonononono." I tried backing away but only hit the chest of the scary blond guy who'd dragged me here.

I'm stuck with a bunch of psychos.

"You're not Peter Pan," I said slowly, suddenly worried for my safety again. "You're insane."

SBG was watching me like I was prime time entertainment. "Oh," he said. "But I am. And these," he spread his arms out, "are my Lost Boys!"

As if on cue, the group around me let out a cacophony of crazed shouts.

"You're all on drugs," I said shakily, trying to back away around Club Guy. "You're all just on some kind of-" My voice died in a quiet choke and I stared in horrified fascination at SBG's feet.

I can't be seeing this. There's no way that I'm seeing this. They drugged me. They had to. Oh god, I'm going to end up an addict.

"Your shadow," I choked out. "You don't have a shadow."

"Of course I don't. I need someone to do my dirty work, don't I?"

I tried to wrench my gaze away from the ground but my eyes wouldn't obey. The smirk in his voice was audible anyway.

"You're really him, aren't you," I swallowed thickly. "You're Peter Pan." I couldn't believe what I was saying.

This is nuts. I need therapy. I so, so need therapy.

Someone grabbed my arm and I belatedly realized that I was shaking. The contact snapped me out of my daze and I locked my terrified eyes on the boy in front of me.

Peter Pan swept his arms out again and leered at me with a predatory grin. "Welcome to Neverland."

I hoped my whimper was inaudible.

Silence settled over the clearing and after several moments the Lost Boy next to me started walking forward as if to speak to his leader. This was it. This was the end.

"But you're not ten," I suddenly blurted. All eyes in the clearing fell on me, shocked that I would dare address their leader out of turn.

The Lost Boys held their breath as Peter Pan raised an amused eyebrow. "No, I'm rather older than that, I think." He laughed at what seemed to be an inside joke.

Peter Pan leveled me with a cold look that made my protests die in my throat. My mouth, however, still seemed to be capable of idiotic conversation.

"But you can't be Peter Pan!"

His eyes flashed dangerously as he bit out, "Oh? And why is that?"

Might as well finish what you've started.

"You're not ginger! Or in tights!" I felt intensely nauseated by the idea and added, "thanks for that, by the way."

"Ginger? What ever gave you that idea?" He stretched himself up to his full height, cold eyes glimmering. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as I recognized his expression.

Those were the eyes of a madman.

The malicious glint in his eyes never wavered. Peter Pan looked at me like he was considering which way he ought to flay me alive. "You'll find things are very different than what you've been told in your stories, Sarah. Felix, take our guest to her accommodations. I'll deal with her in the morning."

The 'Accommodations' turned out to be a bamboo cage that hung precariously in the air. Scar, the aforementioned Felix, threw me inside without preamble and practically slammed the door in my face. I quickly discovered that while the cage may have looked fragile, it was actually quite sturdy and wouldn't break under my best efforts. (I really, really shouldn't have stopped doing sports in college.) Angered by this new development, I spent the next half hour screaming profanities at anyone who came near me. Eventually the Lost Boys grew tired of my insults and just left me alone. Serves them bloody right.

I had now spent what I guessed was about two hours in this godforsaken prison and if Pan's words were anything to go by I would be in here for at least another twelve. I groaned, letting my head fall back and hit the bamboo bars. I was in a cage. Peter fucking Pan, supposed ginger heartthrob of seven-year-old girls everywhere, put me in a fucking cage. So much for gorgeous boys with wonderful accents.

Maybe I should just forsake the male species and become a nun.

Birds chirped somewhere in the foliage, and if I hadn't just been taken prisoner I would have found the location soothing. The adrenaline had almost entirely vanished from my system leaving me exhausted and with very, very sore feet. I was incredibly glad I couldn't feel anything on my march here because trekking through the forest barefoot was probably an inordinately painful experience for someone accustomed to converse.

At least when I get out of this I'll be able to say I got a healthy dose of nature.

"So no one told you life was gonna be this way," I sighed, picking at the bars of the cage. "Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A."

A wayward crow disturbed the overgrown vegetation above me as I watched the last light of day fade from the treetops. Soon the night sky would be home to animals that chose to hunt in the darkness rather than in the light, just like the boy I'd encountered earlier. A menacing image of Pan flashed in my mind and I gave a revolted shudder.

'Friends'. Focus on 'Friends'.

"It's like you're always stuck in second gear… when it hasn't been your day -" I snorted derisively, murmuring the rest of the lyrics. "Your week, your month, or even your year…"

I supposed I had better things to be doing than singing the Friends theme, but it was the only thing keeping me from a complete mental breakdown at this point.

"I will be there for you, when the rain starts to pour," I sang, tapping my foot idly. "I will be there for you, like I've been there before…"

Immersing myself in a familiar tune lowered my racing pulse somewhat and I relaxed against the bars, thinking that maybe I could sleep tonight after all. I just needed to sing some more. Enlightened by this realization I began singing anything I could think of. Show themes, tunes from my childhood, songs I heard on the radio…

I was halfway through my disturbingly dramatic rendition of Katy Perry's "Firework" when a voice from below interrupted me.

"Shut up!" a Lost Boy yelled. Pan must've sent him to check up on me and the guy was clearly not impressed with my voice. I sang louder just to spite him.

"Cause baby you're a fire work!" I hollered, not even bothering to try and hit a single note. "Come on let yo- ow! Fuck!" The little shit threw a rock at me! Who does that?! I was amazed he could even throw that far, I must've been twenty or thirty feet up.

"Next time it'll be an arrow," he threatened.

"I thought Pan didn't want me skewered," I yelled back at him. "You'll be the dead one if you kill me." Oh, I hope Pan told them not to kill me.

"I didn't say it'd kill you. But I'm betting it'll hurt so bad you'd wish it did."

I stayed silent for the rest of the night.

Questions? Comments? Grievances? Leave me a review, darlings!