Where we left off, Margot just awoke after almost dying to discover she was a fairy. Tinkerbell is well on her way back to Neverland in search of her daughter. And Tink's long-estranged sister, Starshimmer, has returned to the Jolly Roger to discover that her niece is still alive and, shockingly, well in Captain Hook's "evil"(?) clutches.

The rum stung as it slid down Margot's throat. All that hacking from her near drowning, followed by the magical choking triggered by an absurd phrase, had unsurprisingly torn up her throat fairly badly. Nevertheless as the rum settled in her stomach, it did exactly what Hook had promised and began to warm her from her torso up through her aching chest and out through her limbs.

Her initial wince of distaste gave way to a satisfied hum and Hook was pleased to see some color return to her cheeks quite quickly from the effect of the liquor. After setting his own glass behind him on the table, he lithely snatched Margot's glass from her hands, intent on refilling it now that he'd seen how much good the spot of rum had done her.

Hook had never bothered to rescue a fairy from certain death before but, now that he had, it was proving to be an interesting lesson in how one could help a fairy recover. He was nothing if not pragmatic in his collection of information; you never knew when any type of knowledge, especially the kind pertaining to another person you could potentially find use for, might come in handy. Hook considered himself an expert in finding uses for people, too.

And he got a heftier dose of information on Margot just a second later. In reaching for her glass, his calloused fingers had lightly brushed across her knuckles and her reaction was nothing short of extraordinary. Hook had to catch the glass as it tumbled out of her hand for a moment, as Margot found herself unable to hand it over normally. If he'd thought the rum brought some color back to her, that was nothing compared to the effect of the contact of his skin to hers.

Immediately the young woman flushed delicately across any part of her silken skin visible to Hook's eyes. And then, just for a second… she looked as if she was almost glowing from within.

Margot could not have hoped to smother the breathy sigh of pleasure that floated from her parted lips the moment she felt Hook's hand. To be perfectly honest, this had happened to her before, just on very rare occasion, and certainly never quite to this reactive of an extent. Definitely there hadn't been any glowing before, for sure.

Her roommate at Oxford, Sarah had witnessed this on a couple of occasions, when Margot was around a boy she really liked. Sarah had laughed and called it Margot's "Let's bang. Now." tactic. Truthfully she was giving Margot more credit than she deserved, framing it like that. It wasn't a seduction tactic. It was something she simply didn't have control over. Sometimes when Margot would begin to feel something very strongly, it was as if the emotion overtook her entirely, like there wasn't room for anything else in her.

That was happening now, and as this new warmth spread throughout her body, Margot was overcome with its sensation. But, she also very suddenly felt the first real relief from the soreness that had taken her body hostage since the whole "I don't believe in fairies" incident. For whatever reason, her body was now openly begging with a powerful urge to be healed, and it was pretty clear that the best way to go about that was via pleasure. Alcohol had been a start but, fuck, the joy of a shot was apparently nothing in comparison to the abrupt desire for sex that was now coursing through her.

Her eyes snapped open to focus straight in on Hook. She couldn't help it. And she was fully aware that she was now assaulting this Captain with exactly what Sarah had deemed Margot's patented Let's bang look.

Of course he was smirking back at her, looking for all the world like the cat that stole the cream, but he also didn't bother to hide the obvious surprise in his eyes. Well that was very fucking interesting, wasn't it? Hook thought.

"Are you alright madam?" he asked, his tone openly mocking but not cruelly so. Dammit, at this moment, Margot even found that sexy.

"I'm… I'm… I'm sorry," Margot stumbled out, feeling flustered to a point of near lightheadedness. So shots of rum were good for some things, but they always came with a price. "I don't know what's happening…"

Hook officially had a hold of her glass now and, though he was still standing right by her at the edge of the bed, she was still ridiculously holding her hand aloft, gestured outward, completely frozen to the spot where their skin had first made the briefest of contact. When Margot realized this, a real blush, the actual embarrassed kind, burned across her cheeks and she dropped her hand to her side as if she'd been scalded.

The Captain's still surprised but supremely amused eyes followed the abrupt motion of her hand. When it came to rest on her lap on the bed, he let his eyes quickly dart back upwards to catch Margot's again. His smile broadened when he noticed her blush in combination with a genuinely worried and insecure look hiding within her intense gaze. Despite her obvious discomfort, she seemed compelled to hold his stare, unable to break it off.

"There's nothing to apologize for my dear," he breathed out softly, letting her empty glass fall onto his bed as he leaned in towards her. Now he was the one compelled. Hook couldn't stop himself; he had to discover how she'd respond if he touched her again…

But before anything could progress between them, the startling enormous boom of one of the Jolly Roger's canons being set off demolished the heated silence building between them. The sound jolted Margot out of her stupor and she sprung further backwards onto the Captain's mattress, as if evading the sound.

"Dammit all to hell!" Hook hissed out, his eyes flashing scarlet in pure anger. Trust Peter Pan to have the most infuriating timing of all. "Smee!" he roared, whirling around from the bed in search of his sword and elaborate captain's hat.

When he swung open the door to his cabin, calamity erupted. Outside was a cacophony of Hook's crew shouting and clamoring all over the deck. Smoke and sparks hissed through the air as multiple canons continued to erupt into the sky. James spun on the heel of his high leather boot to face her before he finished crossing the threshold.

"Stay here!" he demanded, his tone less scolding than it seemed anxious. Margot could imagine that, with whatever was going on out there, she was probably the last thing the Captain needed added to his plate right now. So far she had been very literally not much else than a dead weight.

Then, behind Hook, from somewhere just a bit further out over his ship's deck, Margot saw a young blonde man, all dressed in green, sore effortlessly through the skies. He was not the size of a small fairy like the type James kept referencing or the one she was vaguely beginning to remember from the edge of a dream… no, this person flying was a regular sized human and they looked as at home in the air as a goddamn angel.

Margot's mouth dropped open in comical shock and she raised an arm to point out the door behind Hook…

Hook followed her gesture and released a growl of frustration, "Pan," he hissed and slammed the door behind him as he prowled out, sword in his remaining hand.

Holy. Fuck, Margot thought to herself, feeling absolutely glued to where she still sat in bed. That was Peter Pan. The actual real life, not fictional at all, apparently, Peter motherfucking Pan.

She was well aware of the likely very good advice Hook had just given, er ordered, her. Stay in the cabin. Not only had Margot never been in the midst of any kind of battle — much less one that involved old fashioned cannons, pirates, and flying teenage boys — she had literally never even been in a physical fight. Growing up with a mother who could never seem to accept the fact that being the parent required some responsibility, Margot had been forced to grow up quickly just to take care of herself. As a result, she was a pretty level headed and mature person, capable of resolving conflict in an adult way. Suddenly, that was seeming like a real deficit to her survival skill set.

Nevertheless, despite Hook's solid advice and Margot's understanding of her own limitations, she found herself rising from the bed, unbidden and almost in a trance-like state. Still clutching the unlaced bodice of her dress up to her chest, Margot crossed the room like a zombie, one arm reaching out for the cabin's door.

But, first, another sound snapped Margot out of her state of hypnosis. Behind her, a rapid and frantic tapping on one of the porthole windows of the cabin caused Margot to turn to investigate the source of the sound. There at the window, fluttering in a fury of golden glitter and pounding frantically at the glass… was the same tiny woman Margot had only just begun to barely remember from a dream.

That "dream" immediately smacked itself into the form of a disturbing, but undeniably real, drunken memory. James had been right. A fairy had stolen her away to Neverland. Some random fairy professing to be her aunt and raving things about some kind of war.

Margot's top lip curled upwards and to the side in a defensive snarl upon seeing the fairy at the window.

"You! I recognize you! Get the hell away from me!" she spat.

"Margot!" the tiny creature called, it's melodic language seemingly floating to Margot with ease through the glass and despite the shouts and gunshots coming from the ship's deck. "It's me, Starshimmer, your aunt. Get out of there, you have to get off of this ship!"

"What the fuck, seriously I didn't think it was possible that anyone else in my family could be worse than my mom but then I met you tiny lady! Seriously, stay away from me, you kidnapping psycho!"

Starshimmer jerked backwards in response to that. Okay well that hadn't been the reaction she'd been expecting. Nevertheless, Margot did turn to the cabin door, flinging it open and dashing out. The fairy flew away from the window and around the ship, planning to find her niece from the front. She'd have to be fast. In the midst of one of Pan's war games with Hook, Margot could very easily get caught in the crossfire.

Once Margot stepped outside the safety of the Captain's cabin and into Neverland at night, her senses were immediately so assaulted that she again could only focus on what was occurring right in front of her, now momentarily unconcerned about her aunt's reappearance. It wasn't snowing anymore. Again it felt like the tropics, oppressively humid. Margot felt smothered by the heat. Life in mid-Atlantic America followed by Oxford, England had not prepared her for this kind of weather.

In front of her a grand flight of wooden stairs left from Hook's cabin down to the main deck. Right at the bottom of the stairs, was James with sword in hand, draped in his full famous scarlet regalia, and engaged in a frantic battle with a scrappy young teenager nearly as tall as the towering captain himself.

So this is Peter Pan, Margot thought, finding her eyes trained on the boy adorned in a costume of literal leaves and moss. He didn't fight like James. Where James's movements were sweeping and practiced and informed, Peter's were feral and inscrutable. He reminded Margot of a young punk — hell, he even looked like one, she thought. His features were something like a young Paul Simonon crossed with the attitude of Johnny Rotten.

The fray surrounding them was one of the most absurd things Margot had ever witnessed. Dozens upon dozens of adult men, all in various motley pirate-type garb, wielding old-fashioned swords and pistols to boot, were locked in deadly skirmish with what seemed to be double their amount in young boys of all ages.

Her first instinct, at seeing a man over six feet tall jab a knife viciously near the face of a small boy who looked no more than eight years of age, was to be appalled and nearly sick with concern from the sight. But watching the child evade each challenge with a disturbing scuttle of a parry and a nearly inhuman growl or screech, Margot's feelings began to shift. Everywhere she looked, despite their apparent varying ages, the children were the same: spitting, screeching, scurrying around the deck in strange contorted positions that displayed their lack of any real swordplay training. It also had the deeply unsettling effect of making them seem nearly inhuman.

It was terrifying. This, flat out, was some Children of the Corn, shit.

But as with everything she saw here so far, Margot was not allowed to focus on it for too long. Next her attention was redirected to the onslaught of golden glitter abruptly obscuring her vision. Obscuring her ability to breathe, hell. Then, that tinkling voice again.

"Margot, think happy thoughts! Think happy thoughts!" Starshimmer was weaving rapidly to and fro through the air, sprinkling all the fairy dust she could atop her niece. Her hope was that if she could just get Margot into the air that she could lead her niece away from this dangerous battle and back to their fairy colony, which had been her intent all along.

Margot had different plans. Breathing in a swell of fairy dust without warning, happy thoughts decidedly free from her mind while all this chaos continued, Margot began coughing and hacking. She waved her arms in a whirlwind in the air around her, trying to push away and free the air of some of this blasted sparkly dust but, so long as she wanted to keep some kind of hold around her unlaced dress, her movements remained basically ineffectual.

She continued coughing, then, unable to immediately free herself unto clean air. By pure luck, however, one of Margot's haphazardly flailing arms had made sharp contact with Starshimmer. Instantly, the fairy was knocked out cold and hurled into the wooden railing of the ship's deck without ceremony, swatted away like a bug. Not that Margot could notice, she was still desperate to collect air into her lungs sans impediment.

Two others, though, noticed, so loud was her cacophony of coughing. In the midst of her fit to regain air, Captain Hook and Peter Pan both stalled in their fighting to locate the source of this new noise.

And all at once, Hook was struck by the image of the two of them: Pan and Margot. Peter was just a few feet in front of him, and then Margot just several feet away in profile. She could be his sister. Make her five years older and possibly even his mother. It wasn't just their features, though the resemblance there was prominent enough, from the outline of their faces in profile to the sharp straight decline of their noses. But it was also their ferality, their fear, their pitiful attempts to masquerade confidence… it was all displayed right there up front on both of them without permission.

Peter's head was cocked so curiously to the side while he examined Margot, however, who knew what he was thinking.

The only true differences between them were their hair and eyes. Peter's was a sandy strawberry blonde where Margot's was a near silver-blonde. And where Pan's eyes were a deep and hypnotic emerald, Margot's were sky-blue and sparkling, glimmering even more so now in the midst of the fray.

Pan certainly had not noticed the similar appearances. After appraising Margot for less than half a minute, he looked back at Hook with a disdainful snear.

"Hook? Did you get a Wendy?" Peter asked, his tone mocking. "Ha! You'll never have a mother! You're going to die… old. Alone. Done for!"

Having recovered from her coughing fit, Margot had heard this and was appraising their conversation strangely. Did he really just suggest that she was going to be Hook's mother? Ew…

Hook must have found this proposition similarly distasteful — moreso, obviously, Margot noted — because once again his eyes played that terrifying trick as their icy depths suddenly blossomed scarlet in rage. He doubled the efforts of his attack, his sword slamming downward towards the young man over and over again, his thrusts only interrupted by the occasional mad jab made with his hook towards Pan's torso.

"She is not a Wendy. And she's not my mother!" the Captain hissed as Peter evaded each of his attacks seemingly with ease and laughing all the while.

But speaking of mothers…

"Margot!" a female voice shouted from further off down the deck, at the bow, beyond the rest of the throngs of fighting pirates and rabid children. Margot's head instantly rose to meet the familiar voice. Standing at the bow of the ship, elegant green wings unfurled from behind her back, was Margot's mother, Tiffany.

"Mom…?" Margot called out so softly that there was no way Tiffany had actually heard her. Hook had, though, Pan too, and now they were once again left distracted from one another, their gazes cast out across the deck.

The mother-daughter pair hadn't even spoken in four months, seen each other in god knew how much longer. But, all of a sudden, here was her mother. Willingly down the rabbit hole of a nightmare that Margot had fallen into.

And with wings apparently.

"Darling take out your wings! Just fly to me!" her mother called again.

"My… what?"

"Tink?" Peter called out quizzically, interrupting them. Tiffany made fast and anxious eye contact with the boy. "You're… old?"

If Hook had thought Margot and Peter had looked similar, here now was an altogether more surprising doppelganger. This woman could have been a near copy of Margot, just a decade or so older. And yet, the moment Peter had said her name, Hook realized her true identity as well. Tinkerbell. She was back. And she'd grown. In more ways than one, considering her new human proportions.

It didn't take Hook even a second longer to put everything together from there. So Peter Pan and Tinkerbell had a child, a daughter. And here she was in Neverland, fully grown. Miss Margot Belle.

But before anyone could make any further moves to figure anything else out, time slowed when a shot rang out and hit Margot's mother in the shoulder. Smoke from the antique pistol obscured exactly where the bullet had hit but it didn't matter. The force of the shot sent Tiffany tumbling backwards, head over heals and right over the bow of the deck and into the water below.

"Mom!" Margot screamed as she watched her mother disappear in front of her.

Damn is this already getting too smutty too fast? Anyone who's read my fic The Mikaelson's knows I love my gratuitous smut. I dunno what it is guys but Captain Hook is so goddamn hot to me. I really got a thing for British redcoats in general and he's real similar to that. Also, French dandies from the 1700's in the gray powdered wigs. Does that do it for anyone else? My dream historical lay is Louis XIV, lol. God I wish we all still dressed like that… anyway…

Could NOT, simply could not, resist having Margot refer to Peter as "Peter motherfucking Pan." Oh Margot, if you only knew. Dumb joke, low hanging fruit, had to do it, made me happy. Also, once I knew I was going to write a story with Peter as an older teen, I immediately knew that I could only picture him like a young late '70s UK punk. Also, I personally am fairly in love with Billy Idol and Paul Simonon so I figured if I imagined Peter like that he would be more bearable, lol. Not to mention, Jeremy Sumpter from 2003 Hook has that vibe / look too.

Notes on other fics: someone PMed me to ask about Demeter's Daughter. And, feeling immediately guilty, I went back to reread the fic, fully intent on just finishing it. But then I read the reviews and I think I remember why I ever stopped it in the first place. Damn, reviewers were hard on me about that fic and I mean to like a verbally abusive extent. I welcome constructive criticism and questions. Having inconsistencies brought up or questioned is legitimately helpful editing for me as a writer and I both welcome and appreciate it. But cussing me out and hurling slut-shaming insults because I haven't adequately read your mind to perform the wish fulfillment you're seeking? Not okay. If what you're truly seeking from your fanfics is solely wish fulfillment… um, have you checked out the rest of this entire site? There's plenty of that here, it's just not my game. I have ideas of my own that I'm interested in exploring; this is as much for me as it is for you. Again, that's not to say I don't welcome critical comments and questions. They can be helpful and fun and make me improve my story. But seriously, you wanna come at me because I didn't write something exactly the specific way you wanted / envisioned? THEN WRITE YOUR OWN FIC. Yeah so, pretty sure I'm not going to be going back to Demeter's Daughter, actually.

Still very invested in this story though! As well as Inferno and The Mikaeslons, which both have updates on the way. Wrecked will wait a bit but I plan to finish it, hopefully, before the end of the year!

Truly, I would love to hear your comments, thoughts, and critics. Please just don't flame.