Chapter 3
Hook stood on the deck of his ship, watching the chaos around him. His men fought the boys, and the air was filled with the clash of steel and the sounds of taunts and grunts as the battle grew fiercer. In the middle of the deck, like the calm eye of a hurricane, Peter Pan stood. He stared at the fight, and no one tried to engage him.
"Pan!" Hook shouted to his nemesis.
Peter looked up and glared at him, drawing his dagger. "Codfish!" he called back, a grin spreading across his face.
Hook smiled in return. Time to try out my new toy. Time to take control. "I have you now, brat! You are friendless and alone, and you cannot fly."
Peter looked confused. "What are you talking about?" He looked around at his friends and saw that everyone was staring at him, friend and foe alike. The battle had ceased and the Lost Boys stood side-by-side with the pirates. As one, his boys advanced on him, their eyes filled with hate. Peter jumped, trying to fly, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the deck.
"Nibs?" he called as his second stopped before him. The boy only glared without replying. Then there was an explosion of pain in his face and he saw stars as Nibs's fist connected with his nose. Peter fell to the deck, clutching his broken nose and trying to recover his stunned senses. Someone kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling. Like jackals on a wounded deer, the boys tore into Peter, punching and kicking him. They taunted him, denying his friendship, denying their love for him, and called him ugly names. Peter writhed, trying to escape the pain of the beating and the hurtful words. But he was surrounded on all sides and he collapsed beneath the onslaught.
Hook laughed at the sight of Pan's brats turning against him. He took delight in every hit, every word the boys hurt him with. The sounds of Pan's cries were like music. When Peter stopped moving and his cries ceased, Hook made the dream-children stop their attack. Slowly, relishing the sight of Pan curled up in a ball, sobbing, Hook crossed the deck and towered over the boy.
Peter was bruised and bloody, but his tears weren't for his physical hurts. Why did they betray me? What happened to my friends? When it finally registered in his mind that the beating had stopped and it was now quiet, he uncurled enough to turn his head and look up. He glared at Hook, wishing he could kill the man with the force of the hate in his heart. He wanted to get up, to stand defiant, but his body wouldn't obey him.
Hook knelt down beside the boy and gently wiped some of the blood from Peter's face. Too bad this isn't real. What would the real Pan do if his friends turned on him? The spell is supposed to mimic him exactly, so I guess this is it. It's so realistic, detailed even down to his eyelashes. "My turn now, boy," he growled, hoisting Peter up. "It's time for the real fun to begin."
Peter awoke with a cry, thrashing about so violently that he fell out of the bed. The impact from the floor jarred him, adding to the agonies that wracked his body. He looked around frantically as he scrambled to his feet, disoriented and afraid. Home⦠I'm home, he realized as the familiar room began to register in his mind. He began to calm as the throbbing pains rapidly faded, and when he checked himself there were no bruises, no blood, no broken bones or claw marks. He looked at the bed and saw his Lost Boys were all sound asleep, murmuring in their own dreams.
They wouldn't betray me. They love me, Peter reassured himself. It was just a nightmare. But it had been so real, it still frightened him. He could still see it, still see the hate in Nibs's eyes, still see Hook smiling at him. He could remember vividly the pain from the beatings, the agony when the wicked claw had dug into his flesh, over and over again. And he could still hear Hook's cruel laughter.
"Peter?" Tink called as she stuck her head out of her house. She saw how pale he was, how he was shaking, and she flew to him, alarmed. "Are you sick? What's wrong?"
"Bad dream," he whispered, "just a dream." He looked at her, fighting back the tears. "I can still remember it, it was too real." He sat on the edge of the bed and took a few deep, steadying breaths.
"Tell me what it was about," Tink encouraged him. She was a bit puzzled. Peter had nightmares often, bad ones at that. But he never remembered them upon awakening. She shuddered at the images as Peter described it to her, and when he was done, she alighted on his shoulder and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.
"I've never had a dream like that before. I'm still scared," he said with a sigh.
"Lay back down, Peter, and try to go back to sleep," Tink said softly. "You're safe at home, and everyone here loves you."
Peter nodded and did what she said. For a long while after her glow was gone, he lay awake. The dream still haunted him, and he was afraid to go back to sleep. Finally, he sighed and snuggled up to Nibs.
"Peter?" the boy muttered, half awake.
"Nightmare," Peter whispered.
Nibs nodded without opening his eyes and put out his arm for Peter to lay his head on. Peter got comfortable and put his arm around Nibs.
"Been a long time since we did this," Nibs whispered.
"Yeah," Peter replied, beginning to drift off. "Thanks, though."
"Do anything for you," Nibs replied and went back to sleep.
That night was hell for Tinker Bell and the Lost Boys, who all awoke to Peter's screams. Peter dreamt of Hook again and he was locked inside the dream until he died. When he finally awoke, it was several minutes before the boys could calm him enough for him to realize he was safe. He tried to sleep again later with the same result. It wasn't until sunrise that they could all rest, and Peter thankfully fell into dreamless slumber.
Hook awoke that morning in a wonderful mood. He was rested and content, having dampened the fires in his heart through his dreams. He lay for awhile and savored the dreams he still so vividly remembered, picturing again the dream-Pan as he perished over and over again. He'd killed the boy a few times, each in a different way, and each scenario had given him inspiration for more. He'd made his friends betray him in one, then made him watch his friends die in another. He'd eviscerated him, fed him to the croc, and cut little pieces off of him, starting with fingers and ending with limbs, at which point he'd gotten bored and ended it.
As she said, the dream ends when I kill him, but I can make a dream last as long as I wish. Oh yes, I am going to play with my gift for a long time before I send the real Peter Pan on to the afterlife. Perhaps Morphea gave me this gift so I wouldn't harm the brat.
Cheerfully, he got dressed and had one of his best days since he'd come to Neverland. The only thing that marred it was, surprisingly, that Pan and his band didn't show up as they usually did to torment him.
