Damnation, Salvation, Fire and Steel

Part Three: Metamorphosis

2/4

For all his cockiness and gusto, his seemingly unwavering fear of death, Pan was still just a child. Though he defied Hook at every opportunity - more often than not winning each time - and laughed in the face of adversity, Peter Pan was still only a little boy, with a little boy's terrors. The slight trembling of his bottom lip and the way his fingers knotted amidst the sheets of the bed showed Hook quite plainly what Pan was. Not that it softened his desire to kill him, oh, no. Quite the contrary - he was enjoying the boy's pain immensely.

Watching Pan squirm and blink furiously in an effort to somehow force his eyes to work was a meal fit for a king, in Hook's mind. He licked his lips, tasting the sweet juice of power that he now held in his remaining hand. He could practically feel his hook singing, as though it sensed his enemy was near. But in one last effort to remain a gentleman - and grudgingly agreeing with Starkey - he rested his hand behind his back as he walked about the bed, letting Peter hear his footsteps and making him wonder what he, Hook, was up to.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm," Hook muttered, a smile showing plainly in the tone of voice he chose to use on the youth. He felt more than saw Peter bristle. "It seems, boy, that we have quite a predicament on our hands. You are blind and completely at my mercy, and yet you seem to know something I do not. Perhaps a deal is in order here - I will refrain from killing you, if you tell me exactly what you saw when you were taking your little cat nap."

Peter scowled darkly, his hands curling into fists. "I am at no one's mercy, Codfish!" he snapped, though the words lacked his usually energy and defiance. He grit his teeth and allowed his scowl to darken, searching with blind eyes to find where Hook was and failing by at least two or three feet. "I can beat you blindfolded anyway, so don't think this is any different!"

Hook resisted the urge to cackle in glee. "Ah, but it is different, boy!" He leaned down suddenly, resting his hand - and hook - on the bed next to Peter. The sudden drop of the mattress caused the boy to hiss in surprise and focus an unseeing gaze towards Hook. The man smirked. "It is different. You are helpless as a kitten, lost in my cabin with no way out and no aid coming to you. All that stands between you and oblivion is I, Captain James Hook. You should be grateful to me for allowing you to live."

"The only thing that stands between you and oblivion is my generosity," Peter growled darkly, albeit weakly. "I could have killed you a long time ago, Admiral Anchovy. If anyone should be grateful for letting anyone live, it should be you!"

Hook's eyebrow twitched viciously. His lip curled back into a terrible sneer, and in moments he had Peter's shirt gripped in his fist and was dragging the boy out of the cabin and onto the deck. The boy had barely any time to cry out in surprise before he was tossed into the air, landing with an agonizing thud on the hardwood. He cried out in pain and shock, immediately curling up into a ball to push away the pain.

"Get up, brat!" Hook roared from the doorway. The rest of the crew turned to watch in amazement as Peter groaned, drawing his brow together as he fought to keep his head from spinning off into unconsciousness again. "This is a lesson you seem to be determined to learn the hard way. Get up, show me how independent you are. Or," he sneered again. "How dependent you are!"

"I depend on no one," Peter hissed, fighting the pain in his body to get to his feet and prove to Hook that he didn't need any help, and that nothing had changed. His shoulder throbbed from where he had landed on it, his stomach roiled angrily and he felt a terrible soreness in his throat that made it difficult to speak loudly. Somehow, he managed to stagger to his feet without any help. From there, however, he seemed at a loss for what to do.

"What's wrong with you, Pan?" Hook asked snidely, putting one hand on his hip to glare at the child. "Can you not fly? Can you not fight? Can you not crow? Can you not even walk, you insufferable scumdog?"

Peter snarled, and took a step. The ship dipped as a wave rolled beneath it, and he nearly lost his balance in the aftermath. Somewhere beyond the wind, he heard Hook laugh cruelly.

"Where has your glory gone, Pan?" he called out. "Where is your power? You cannot mean to tell me that my greatest enemy is but a weakling babe!" Though Peter couldn't see him, he got the impression that Hook was addressing the heavens. The man's words cut through him, and he took another step, and another. To his horror he could feel his legs wobbling with fatigue, barely holding him up.

I can't let him see me weak, Peter thought vehemently. I...just can't!

"Where has Pan gone?" Hook cried mockingly. "Where oh where has that wretched, filthy little brat who has plagued me day and night, awake or asleep, gone? He cannot be that mangy dog, stumbling blindly across the deck before me! No, the Pan I knew was quick, capable, and retained all of his senses!"

The ship bobbed on another wave and Peter stumbled again, falling against the ship's rail and grabbing onto it instinctively. He gasped, trying to calm his heart as the terror of being unable to see his course and the horrible sense of foreboding he felt as his legs began to crumble beneath him overwhelmed his mind. But it was Hook's voice, his words that set his heart afire, enraged him enough to keep trying.

He pushed away from the rail and spun, ready to face Hook and challenge him, when the ship was suddenly shoved violently to the side. Peter cried out, his eyes widening as the abrupt motion caused his feet to slip out from beneath him, and he crumpled to the deck.

Realizing a few moments later what had happened, Peter felt something deep within his chest constrict painfully. Tears began to burn at his eyes, mixing with blood to stream pink tears down his cheeks as he began to cry softly. His hands flew to his face, and slowly, his shoulders began to shake. The rest of his body followed as he gave in to the sobs, unable to stop himself once he got started.

So busy was he, crying hysterically into his palms, that he didn't hear Hook's boots thudding against the wood. Only when the man's voice spoke directly above him did he freeze, but not once did he remove his hands from his face.

"Pan," Hook said almost kindly. "It seems you now realize your situation." Peter stiffened as arms wrapped around him and he was lifted up, his head falling against a powerful chest. "Back to the cabin, boy," Hook said. "There is much we have to discuss."

"I don't wanna talk to you," Peter mumbled into his palms. "Just leave me alone! You've had your fun."

Smee held the door to the cabin open and Hook stepped inside, scowling down at the boy as he moved to place him back on the bed. "On the contrary, Pan. I have not had my fun yet." He pulled the covers up over the boy's body, frowning. Smee brought a chair to him and he nodded to the bosun. "And I wish to speak with you about what occurred earlier."

"I said I don't wanna talk about it," Peter hissed miserably.

"You have no choice, boy," Hook snapped. "My gunner has gone overboard, my ship is nearly destroyed by deranged mermaids and weather, and I want answers. You spoke in your sleep, and when you awakened you talked of a monster. Just what in blazes is happening?"

Peter began to sob again, shivering. "M'head hurts, Captain," he whispered. "Please, just go away."

Hook's eyes narrowed. "Smee?" he called softly.

"Aye, Cap'n Hook sir?"

"Fetch the brat some rum," Hook told the bosun. "It seems we may have to loosen his tongue and clear his head before I get the answers I want."

"Rum, sir?" Smee questioned. "Yer best or yer worst?" He paused a moment. "And if ye don't mind me askin' it, Cap'n sir, how tipsy are ye plannin' on getting' th' lad?"

"Not very, Smee," Hook growled. "Only enough to make him talk. And I want the best of my rum. I would like to partake of it as well."

Smee nodded. "Aye-aye, Cap'n!"

Tootles yawned, rubbing his eyes blearily. It seemed like hours and hours had passed since he had fled into the woods, after Wendy and the Lost Boys had been attacked by the slugs. By this point he had stopped crying, but now he was depressed. Wasn't there something he could have done? Anything at all? Those kind of thoughts had plagued him endlessly while he sobbed, alone, and though he hated to admit it he knew there was nothing he could have done. He was too small, wasn't as clever as Nibs or Peter or as strong as any of the boys.

How he hated himself sometimes.

Now, though, in the company of two large - and quite freaky-looking - trolls, the boy at least felt safe. After the initial fear of being eaten had passed, he relaxed into their company as easily as a boy his age could. Not that it was very hard - Shankers's mind seemed to be permanently stuck at the level of a grade one retard. He was more immature than Curly was, and to Tootles that said quite a bit.

Had the circumstances been normal, the boy would have thought that he was having quite an adventure. There he was, riding on the shoulder of a troll through the darkness as the trees seemed to press in on them, reaching out as though they wanted to pluck him from safety and eat him alive. Peter, Nibs and Slightly were missing, while Wendy and the others had been captured. Tootles thought sadly that Peter must be having a grand old time.

A gentle mist had arisen and he could see the troll named Honkers thundering through the underbrush ahead of him. He watched, fascinated, as Honkers paused every so often, looked around, growled something nasty to himself, and then plunged onward. The boy couldn't figure out why the cranky troll kept looking back at him and giving him dirty looks - he thought it was maybe because Shankers was jabbering on about something that made no sense to the boy. Actually, now that Tootles thought about it, he didn't think whatever it was the troll was talking about made any sense to anyone but himself.

A quiet boy by nature, Tootles had unconsciously made it a point in his life to sit back and watch others interact. Though he didn't realize it, he had come to a conclusion about the two trolls and their personalities.

Honkers always seemed to be cranky and miserable due to Shankers's continuous idiocy and random thought process. It seemed to Tootles that the larger troll had made it his duty to protect and guard Shankers from whatever threat happened to arise. And, judging from the scrawny troll's constant whimpering about "Mumsy", that duty had been laid upon Honkers by their mother - against his own, personal wants. He didn't know how many times Honkers had yelled for his brother to shut the hell up, but Tootles could tell that he wasn't the only one who knew that danger was still lurking around every corner. Shankers, on the other hand, was quite oblivious.

As though to prove it, Shankers began to sing a weird little troll ditty that had abruptly popped into his miniscule brain. Catching Tootles's attention, he paused only to explain that the ditty was a part of troll life and he wanted to teach it to the boy because he was now troll-kin.

Honkers, meanwhile, was starting to get even more irritated with his brother than usual. Didn't Shankers know that danger was still afoot? Why the hell was he singing at a time like this? After all they had been through that night, couldn't the idiot get a clue?

Brother never get clue, Honkers thought sourly as he tore a branch off a tree and tossed it away. His fist clenched. Brother never know what good or bad for him. Brother always has to save stupid twin's ass from trouble!

The situation they were currently in vaguely reminded him of when he and Shankers had been troll youths. Just a few years out of the cave-home, young and impressionable, and the first day of class Shankers had made enemies.

Trolls weren't entirely unlike humans in that they, too, attended school. Only their classes were held outside and they were taught to fight, how to crush each other's skulls with one blow, how to hunt, and other ways of troll life. It was actually pretty violent, now that Honkers thought about it. Not that he minded. He liked to hurt things.

When he and his brother had their first class with an instructor named Krunch, Shankers had immediately been thrown into the lowest part of the young one's social circle. It wasn't that he did anything wrong, per se - he had just been small. And their year group had leapt upon that misfortune like vultures after a corpse. In a troll community, any troll that was smaller, weaker, or lacked something all the others had, it was seen as a terrible, terrible shame - and they were immediately outcast. The only reason those trolls weren't killed was because Honkers's community was large enough to ignore his faults - had they been starting their city, he would have been killed on sight. Only strong trolls could make a strong domain, and Shankers didn't fit the bill.

It helped that Honkers and his family had lived on the outskirts of the troll city. It made it a lot easier for them to hide Shankers from the public eye - the only time he really had to go out was when they had class. What the other trolls didn't see couldn't make them mad, as their Mumsy had always used to say.

She had been quite a lass, Honkers thought with a small, almost imperceptible smile. Strong, like any troll man wanted. Quite popular when she was young. Tough as the stone their home was made of, and willing to smash the heads of any who dared to approach her young. She guarded Shankers like he was some sort of precious gem, demanding that Honkers look out for his twin when she wasn't around to save their hides.

It was she who laid the duty on him, Honkers remembered with a slight scowl. Protect his brother from everything, make sure he didn't get himself killed or into trouble. It was love talking - a weird, rough sort of love, as trolls actually sucked at expressing it - and Honkers knew it. It was also, partly, love that kept him performing that duty. Oh, how he despised Shankers sometimes, but they were blood-kin. Blood-kin would die for each other. It was the blood that called him to guard his brother.

Not to say he wouldn't knock Shankers unconscious at any given opportunity. As it was, he really wanted to do that right now as he listened to his brother sing that little ditty.

"Me bugger the lass 'n chow on meat

Me take the meat that no be beat

Me bugger the lass 'n stomp on head

Me bugger the lass 'n drink me mead

Me hunt fat deer 'n moose so big

Me bugger the lass 'n make her pig

Me take the scunge 'n push it deep

Me bugger the lass in her sleep

Me want big clan to make me proudy

Me want big lass who make me rowdy

Me want me cave be strong and low

Me want big clan me strength to show

Me bugger the lass one time three

Me bugger the lass 'n happy me be!"

Tootles giggled. "That's funny," he said, smiling. "But what does 'bugger the lass' mean?"

Before Shankers could reply Honkers stepped in. "Toot-less not big enough troll yet to know that," he snapped harshly, glaring at his twin balefully. "Brother wait for Toot-less to get bigger." He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Shankers, who blushed furiously and nodded.

"Me wait," he said, then grinned at Tootles. "Me tell you later," he whispered, winking at the boy, who giggled again and nodded, still having no clue what was being talked about. Honkers continued to scowl at them out of the corner of his eye. He'd have to watch his brother closely with this young troll-kin around. Shankers was likely to drive the boy into troll-hood faster than any lesson a lass could give him. There were some things Tootles didn't need to know yet, and that was one of them.

Growling inwardly and wishing he had kept his mouth shut after his own experience with a lass, Honkers plodded on with his brother and new-found troll-kin right behind. He kept his eyes open and senses alert; the world was amiss and he didn't want to be caught off guard.

After all, he had two brothers to look after now.

The thought made him want to puke.

Stupid twin, he thought with a scowl. Always have to safe-guard you. Make brother's job harder than usual.

Nibs jerked back, his eyes widening into round, bulging saucers. "What did you say!"

Icky paused, sheathing her fangs. Then, noting the look of terror on the boy's face, rolled her eyes. "Geeze, human, chilly down. I was just kidding. I have no desire to eat you." Nibs only continued to stare at her, leaning as far back as he could without falling over. She scowled. "I'm a werewolf, stupid. Haven't you ever heard the stories? Where some random human gets bitten by a werewolf and he turns into one himself? I have my own type of 'venom'. If I bite you I'm sure my poison will annihilate the spider-baby's crap. Got that?"

"Yeah but then what happens if it does and I turn into a werewolf?" Nibs demanded. "I don't want to be a freak." A light sheen of sweat was forming on his body, and minute shivers wracked him. Icky stared, a look of minor insult appearing on her face.

"It's curable if it's caught in time," she retorted quietly after a long silence. "And it's not so bad." Then her eyes narrowed. "You wanna die then? Fine with me. Not like I care. I have better things to with my time than spend it trying to save your stupid human ass." With that, she started to get to her feet, preparing to leave.

"Wait..." Nibs swallowed a lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. But I just...I don't want to die, but I don't want to turn into a werewolf either."

Icky made a face. "I get your point, Nibs." She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "So to bite, or not to bite? That is the question." Nibs was quiet so she added, "You won't turn into one if we catch it in time."

"And if we don't?"

"Then you either die in the process or you change and maybe get some of my kind's self-healing abilities. That is, if you're real lucky. As it is your options aren't that great anyway. There's not enough time to find anything else to bite you."

Nibs sighed. "I don't like it," he whispered, tears starting to brim in his eyes.

"I wouldn't think so," Icky said. "But don't get all sobby and whiny on me, human, cuz I'm not going to be your mama. Crying never got me anywhere and it won't get you anywhere either. Suck it up."

"You don't have to be so mean!" Nibs snapped back at her. The tears were nearly falling now and he hitched in a shaky breath.

"Hah!" Icky puffed. "If I weren't so damn mean I never would have made it this far. Now you have two options - let me bite you right here, right now, and see what happens, or I can walk the hell away and never look back. And you can die."

Nibs choked back a sob. "Fine," he hissed. "Bite me."

"If you said that in different context I may be insulted," the werewolf replied dryly. Then she knelt down in front of him again and flashed her teeth. "Just hold still. I'm not gonna rip out your throat, just a quick bite should suffice."

"Just get it over with!" Nibs said, closing his eyes and flinching.

"Believe me, human, I'm enjoying this as much as you are." Then, quick as a flash, she lunged forward and sank her teeth into the boy's neck. Nibs cried out and started to struggle, but she slammed her hand against his chest to keep him still. She pulled away after a few seconds and the boy was crying fully now. "There. It's done." Then, angrily, "Oh, don't be such a baby! The spider did a lot worse than I did!"

It was true. Where Icky had bitten, only a little bit of blood was dribbling down from the puncture holes her fangs had made. In comparison, the spider baby had left ravaged flesh, torn every which way and turning a nasty, spotted green-gray colour. The werewolf sat back on her haunches, watching Nibs as he fought his tears.

"That hurt!" he said.

"Well duh. I bit you."

"Stop being so mean!"

"Stop being so stupid, then!"

The two had a glaring contest that didn't last as long as it could have under normal circumstances. However, at that point something inside the boy snapped and his body jerked violently. His head fell back and his spine arched in a rather painful way, as a stream of ropy vomit spewed from his mouth.

Icky jumped back, and then lunged forward, turning Nibs on his side quickly so he wouldn't choke. Beneath her hands she could feel his muscles twitching spasmodically, his entire body shuddering with the force of his heaves. Low, bubbly screams that swiftly turned to high-pitched howls of agony wrenched from his throat, broken only when thick chunks of something flew out of his mouth to splatter on the ground.

"Ugh!" Icky winced, pounding on the boy's back. "Come on, human, breathe! Just keep going, don't look at it!" Nibs's eyes cracked open but Icky puffed angrily at him. "I said don't look at it! Just heave, boy, heave! Get that crap out of your system!"

Nibs howled as another spasm rocked his body. "I-"

"Don't talk!" Icky hissed, pounding his back harder. "It's just the venom leaving your body! You can't stop now, Nibs. Just HEAVE!"

Easy for you to say, Nibs thought blearily.

"It's the venoms mixing," Icky told him in a calmer tone. "They're fighting for dominance in your body. I'm pretty sure mine's winning this fight." She grinned in a feral manner, thumping the boy's back to help him. "Spiders always lose to werewolves, human! That's why my kind have survived this long."

Nibs only continued to hurl, taking minor comfort that he at least wasn't alone in the woods, throwing up. The heaves began to ease a bit, for which was extremely grateful, but Icky frowned.

"You can't stop," she said suddenly, hitting him harder than he thought she ought to have. Nibs gagged. "You can't stop yet. It's not done!" Her mind worked quickly, then she started growling. "Imagine the grossest thing you can think of. Like...um...didn't that spider thing smell? Ew! I mean gods, it was like a thousand dead rats rotting in an open graveyard where all the bodies are fresh and bloated and really, really smelly-"

Nibs heaved more powerfully than ever. His mouth was coated in filth and the ground in front of him was soaked in vomit. Icky grinned. "Rats!" she said, more loudly. "Greasy, disgusting, foul rats with their innards oozing out of their eyeballs and their brains spilling out their ears! Covered in shit! Bathing in it! Think of the smell, think of the sight! Isn't it just-"

The boy yowled, or tried to. He was nearly choking on his own vomit, now, and Icky remembered to smack him again, hard. A rather large, thick chunk of puke bulged between his lips. Nibs made a weird sound in his throat and the werewolf glanced at his face, her eyes widening.

"Shit!"

She drew her hand back and then let fly one last time, thwacking Nibs so hard on the back of his neck that it knocked him unconscious after the bloated chunk flew out of his mouth.

"There," she said to the unconscious boy. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Almost as an afterthought, Icky laid the boy down more comfortably on the ground, away from the large puddle of vomit he had passed out next to. Frowning, she scanned his face and winced at the slime on it; she really couldn't leave it like that, could she? No. It would make her sick before much time passed and it would be so much harder for her to look at Nibs with all that crap on his face.

Taking the cloth that had been wrapped around her arm, she spat in it and then wiped the boy's face, wrinkling her nose at it. "Stupid Abura," she muttered, spitting into the cloth again and working on Nibs's face, watching as it slowly cleared. "Always putting me into situations like this. Bastard likes to torture me a little too much."

When his face was sufficiently clean, Icky stood up and unhooked a pouch from her belt. Opening it carefully, she deposited its contents into her palm, sighing in annoyance.

Tink lay limp in the werewolf's hand, unaware of anything and everything that was happening around her. Her glow was blinking on and off, an ugly shade of green, and her brow was drawn together in pain.

"And what am I supposed to do about you?" Icky asked the unconscious fairy quietly. "I could do something for the human, but fairies are beyond me."

The small pixie made no answer, and Icky sighed again. She took the pouch and placed it on the ground, laying Tink down on it as gently as possible. The fairy moaned softly and Icky scowled.

"Stupid Saxon. You're making everyone's lives a living hell and not just mine. Damn you!"

More Author's notes: As this story progresses, it does and will become more violent, gory, and there will be a hint of slash. I'll be posting all of what I have written of it in the next few days, but it will be relatively difficult as I no longer have Microsoft Word and can't save anything as HTML files, and will have to manually fix all the codes and such and save them to my website and then save them off the site. Confusing, but workable.

Thanks for all the reviews that I have gotten; I really appreciate it. When the time comes to the last chapter I have written, ideas and encouragement will be a great help as I haven't really written on this story in months. Heh, yeah... so, these chapters are dedicated to the enthusiatic reviewer, Kohkoa I believe,who left such a nice review that I had to post the rest of what I have for their sake. Maybe I'll finally get my butt moving on this fic again after so long. Let's hope!