Author's Note: Thank you to sarah0406, MusicLover500, the very kind Guest, Hildebrant, 13Nyx13, and the Anon for their reviews! I appreciate you taking the time to do it. :) It makes me so happy to see them!

Hope everyone had a fantastic Halloween.

In the meantime, enjoy!

~ladykikyo1792

Chapter 10: Monster Under the Bed

That night, Wendy found herself in bed, staring at the ceiling of her new home. Shortly after their discussion with the Charmings, she and Tink had decided to move to an empty house at the edge of town. Originally, they'd planned to stay with Regina, but they quickly threw that option out after realizing Pan wasn't just back for revenge. Having two Neverlanders under the same roof with Henry, who possessed the Heart of the Truest Believer, was too dangerous. The adults weren't particularly thrilled with the teenagers' decision, but once Wendy had told them that Peter (as of yet) did not want to kill her, they agreed that it was best to keep them away from the other citizens. If Pan were to visit them, they reasoned, at least they wouldn't be a danger to everyone else.

She sighed. It was incredibly difficult for her to fall asleep now. Whether it was because her nightmares had started walking around or because she was afraid Peter would show up to talk to her she couldn't tell. Tink, oddly, had no problem falling asleep. Wendy could hear her soft snores through the door. She envied the fairy's restful slumber.

"Trouble sleeping, Bird?" As if summoned by her very thoughts, his words echoed through her room. Wendy rolled over to see Peter alight at her window, then stroll in as if he owned the place. Considering she'd locked the window and it hadn't done anything to stop him, apparently, he thought he did own the place, and had the right to enter without an invitation.

She wasn't surprised by this. In what little method of retaliation she had, she ignored his question. She knew he hated being ignored. There were few things he hated more- with the exception of Hook, and now, most likely her.

"What? You're not going to speak to me? How childish! I thought you were all grown up?" he mocked her. He held a hand to his heart.

"Enough, Peter," she retorted, "You're right. I am having trouble sleeping. You coming into my room isn't exactly helping." It was making it even worse, actually. She'd been thinking of him, and now she actually had to deal with him. She wondered, idly, if this was going to become a regular habit.

"It used to," Peter noted, all traces of cruelty gone, "It still can." He kept his tone neutral, but Wendy didn't trust him anymore. He wanted something from her, and while she didn't know what it was, she didn't intend to let him have it.

"Why?" she snapped, "So you can just slit my throat in my sleep?" Annoyed, she rolled to her other side. While she wasn't stupid enough to close her eyes, she didn't want to stare at his smug face either.

His footsteps echoed across the floorboards as he approached her bed, then gingerly sat beside her still form. His fingers, barely there, started to stroke her hair. It was an absurdly tender gesture for someone like him. The contradiction was so extreme she almost pinched herself to be certain she was awake.

"You know I wouldn't do that." He made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Wendy knew him better than that. He was savage and bloody and had a thirst for vengeance so strong it couldn't be rivaled by any power on this earth. He had treated her tenderly before only to break her later. He'd drawn blood from her- once -and he'd done it on purpose. She had no doubt he could do it again. Whether he would was another story entirely, but it didn't change the fact he could. So she challenged him:

"Do I?"

To her surprise, he immediately acquiesced, "Fine. You have my word. This house is as sacred as your treehouse. None will harm you here, not me, not Felix, not the boys. I always keep my promises." She resisted the urge to sit up in shock. Her treehouse in Neverland, built for her by Peter when he'd decided she should have some place of her own (according to him), had been a place of amnesty. Nothing could harm her there, not pirates, not Indians, not Tink, nor any island inhabitant. None could even enter without her permission- except for Peter. But even he, in his darkest moments, had never hurt her there. For him to give this house the protection of her treehouse- and technically, Tink gained the protection too, as she shared this house with Wendy -was bizarre. It confused her, and bewildered, couldn't help but ask:

"Why are you promising me safety? Why aren't I dead?" She should be, for all intents and purposes. Peter could have killed her many times over now- at her old apartment (she still had no idea how long he'd been watching her, and knowing him, it could have been from her very first day in Storybrooke), at school, and now here. Even if he had been waiting for her to notice his existence, she knew he was alive now. With his penchant for theatrics, she should have been writhing in a pool of her own blood as he whispered cruel nothings in her ear. Yet she wasn't. She was laying in her bed, and her would-be- her should-be -murderer was stroking her hair.

Peter paused for a moment in thought, then said, "You're the reason I'm still alive. Admittedly, that doesn't excuse you for letting them try to kill me in the first place, but you paved the way for me to survive," he shook his head, then taunted her again, "And you never told them, did you? About your little lie?"

Little? Wendy thought. Lying to the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin was hardly a "little lie." She'd been petrified they would be able to tell and would incinerate her on the spot for aiding Pan. To her amazement, they'd believed her, and the result was sitting next to her.

Accordingly, Wendy didn't answer him, and his hands stilled in her hair. He asked, almost viciously:

"Are you regretting it, Bird? Do you wish you'd let the queen go through with it?"

A long moment of silence passed, fraught with tension. Peter was waiting to hear her agree that she'd wanted him dead, and she was waiting for him to choke her. She wasn't sure what to say or what to tell him, but finally, she replied:

"I have so many regrets with you, Peter Pan." She wasn't willing to let him, or herself, know the true answer:

No, she didn't regret what she'd done. She regretted what he'd done in revenge, but she didn't regret saving his life.

A monster he might have been, and a monster he was, but he was her monster, beneath it all.

Wendy couldn't pinpoint exactly when she had realized Peter wasn't all he appeared to be, that beneath his charming and witty exterior there was something terrifying. All she knew was that some days he could be so kind, and other days he was cruel just for the pure pleasure of it. Not usually to her- but to the boys around her. He treated them carelessly, like dolls, as if they too didn't breathe and feel things just as he did. Though Peter Pan, of course, claimed to feel nothing but bravery and pride, so perhaps it didn't occur to him there would be other things to feel.

To her, he continued to put up the endearing and clever front, but she caught him one day when he was unawares. He'd thought she was bathing, but she finished early. While he knew she was on her way back, his attention was focused on something else, so he didn't realize exactly how close she was. She arrived at the camp just in time to see him holding a crossbow in front of Nibs.

"No, Peter! You know I can't shoot it!"the Lost Boy was deathly afraid. He stared at the crossbow as if it were about to light on fire. His eyes darted all about the camp, searching for something- anything -to possibly distract his leader.

"Nibs, all the other boys can. Even Felix can. You should at least know how," Rufio said. Peter gave a slight nod of approval to his second, and immediately knowing what Peter was going to do, Rufio started to gather most of the other boys and push them to the edge of the clearing. Most were generally clueless, but they knew enough to listen to Rufio.

"I can't!" Nibs insisted, "I won't!" he pushed the crossbow away, frantic, and Peter's face darkened with fury.

"You'll learn then," he promised, "Slightly!" He snapped his fingers, and obediently, the Lost Boy came to his side. He was chewing an apple, which Pan retrieved from his fingertips. Then he carefully balanced it on Slightly's head, and handed Nibs the crossbow.

"Nibs, you will shoot this apple off of Slightly's head," he commanded.

"What?" Nibs blanched. He looked back and forth from Peter to Slightly. Slightly, to his credit, hadn't moved a muscle, except to take in a deep breath. He knew that moving anything else was likely to get a worse punishment meted out to him, and he was reluctant to draw Pan's ire.

Peter shrugged, "That's how you will learn. You've got one shot. Don't waste it." Then he went to stand between Felix and Rufio, incredibly pleased with his strategy.

"Peter, don't!" Wendy cried out. She burst into the clearing, desperate to stop what she was certain would be Slightly's death, and worse, Nibs' killing of his best friend. Chest heaving, she ran between Slightly and Nibs. Wendy threw her arms out to the side, hoping that her pleas would reach Peter again.

Peter was silent, and she realized that for the first time, his anger was directed towards her. She'd never been afraid of him before, but she was afraid of him then. He gave barely perceptible looks to Felix and Rufio, and to her shock, the boys immediately ran forward and grasped her arms. She struggled, but they had pinioned her in place.

"Slightly, the apple," Peter requested. An apologetic look on his face, Slightly tentatively made his way to Wendy and placed it on her head.

"Don't move, Wendy," Felix warned her, "Not if you want to live." She wanted to kill him, because from his tone, she could tell he was actually enjoying this. He found her fright amusing. He had the same reaction to rabbits stuck in his traps, and had she not been fighting for her life, she probably would have vomited.

The apple fell to the ground, and Rufio retrieved it. More kindly than Felix, he told her:

"Wendy, you'll be okay, I promise, but you have to stay still." Seeing she was unable to do so, he let go of her arms. Felix took over the task of holding both arms, while Rufio crouched down behind her, holding her neck tightly so her head was forced to stay straight.

Peter, meanwhile, told Nibs, "Watch." He took the crossbow, met Wendy's eyes for a second, then let the arrow fly. Wendy screamed. Though she winced, Rufio and Felix held her fast. The arrow sliced neatly through the apple. To prove his point, Petr motioned to Slightly to put another apple on Wendy's head. Slightly approached the trembling girl and mumbled:

"I'm sorry, Wendy-lady. I'm so sorry."

Despite herself, and despite the fact she had come to Neverland with all intentions of being brave, she whimpered as he placed the second apple on her head. She couldn't bring herself to face Peter a second time. When she heard the arrow whistle through the air, she flinched again, this time hard enough to loosen Rufio's grip on her. She turned her head a bit to the left, and while the arrow sliced through the apple again, it grazed her head. A thin stream of blood appeared on her hairline.

At that, Rufio and Felix released her. Softly, Rufio chided her:

"You shouldn't have moved, Wendy."

Pan frowned as she ran to a nearby rock. Logically, she knew that if she ran out of the clearing, he would send boys to retrieve her- he never liked losing his audience -so she remained there. Yet she was horrified by what had just happened to her, and she couldn't seem to stop herself from shaking.

Peter went to her and knelt before her. Smirking, he pressed the crossbow against her heart:

"Wendy, do you believe I'd shoot you?"

"You- you just did!" Wendy managed to gasp out. She had never thought he was capable of such a thing.

Peter laughed at her terror. He left her there on the rock, then tossed the crossbow to Nibs. Slightly, doing his best to mask his own fear, stepped to the center of the clearing and placed an apple on his head.

Nibs bit his lip, aimed, then shot.

Again, Wendy couldn't help herself. She screamed and covered her eyes.

But the Lost Boys were clapping. She opened an eye to see the apple in pieces on the ground. Rufio and Felix gave Nibs congratulatory slaps on the back. Nibs himself was catching his breath, still stunned by what he had just done.

Wendy, meanwhile, just touched her hairline. Her fingertips came away with blood, and she stared at Peter. Then she bolted to her treehouse.

Peter watched her go, musing over her reaction. Still, he couldn't help but be pleased with himself a little, because Nibs became the best shot of them all after that day.

Later, Peter had come to Wendy's treehouse. She was sitting before her makeshift dressing table, still trembling. When she looked in her mirror and saw him enter, she'd jumped to her feet, and stumbled back against the wall. He appeared to her in a new light now- not an enchanting creature from the gods, but a secret devil lurking behind a beautiful face. Consequently, she felt threatened by his very presence.

He stared at her for a full minute. At first, she met his eyes. As the seconds dragged on, though, she looked anywhere but at him. The wall. The floor. The window, through which she could see the palms swaying in the night breeze. Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it slamming in her ribcage, and she thought he surely had to hear it too.

His voice, went he finally spoke, had none of the malice from earlier that day. Instead, it was steady:

"Wendy, come here." He wasn't unemotional, exactly, but she couldn't read him. He said it simply, as if he were telling her the color of the sky. There was no anger, no twisted joy, no condescension. Just three words.

"No."

That one word was all Wendy had the strength to whisper. No one ever said no to Peter- and when they even attempted it, it was with grievous consequences. That very day Nibs had said no to Peter, and Peter had made him try to shoot his best friend. She dreaded what he would make her do, but she dreaded more what he would do if she went to him.

Perhaps sensing her reluctance, her fear, Peter approached her warily, as though she was an animal he was hunting. She couldn't bring herself to move, nor did she even have the opportunity, for by the time she made the decision, he was already standing in front of her. He was tall and imposing and as striking as ever. Unbidden, memories of him saving her over and over again materialized in her traitorous mind- when she first arrived in Neverland, when he taught her to fly, when he pulled her from the lagoon. She wanted to trust him, desperately. She wanted to believe he was the white knight she'd thought he was- a cocky white knight, admittedly, with a dash of arrogance, but with his abilities, didn't he have a right to be? Still, she reminded herself, that same, supposed white knight had shot a crossbow at her twice. It wasn't the way knights were to treat their ladies. All the storybooks told her that.

So what was he?

Peter didn't speak again for a while. He merely drew a cloth from the pouch at his belt, and lead her to her bed. Unsure what else to do, she sat down. He busied himself in the corner of her room, filling a bowl with water. As he waved his hand over the bowl, steam began to rise from it. Then, ever so gently, he dipped the cloth in the bowl and started to clean the cut he'd made on her head.

Wendy's mouth dropped open. She'd thought he would yell at her for moving; punish her for defying him, perhaps even shoot her again. The last thing she'd expected was for him to come here and tend to her wound. Incredulous, she said:

"Peter, why-"

"There is a fairy ball tomorrow night," he cut her off, "Tink said she'd do your hair. Can't have you bleeding if you're going to dance at a ball."

As he soothed her reddened scalp, Wendy realized that that was the closest to an apology she would ever get from Peter Pan. He never apologized to anyone, for anything. However, if he was willing to go to a ball and dance with her (the fairies would never let her go alone; they knew Tink disliked her), and he hated to dance...

Maybe he wasn't entirely a demon.

"Well then, Wendy Darling," Peter said, "I'll leave you to think of all your regrets," Cruelly, he added, "And I want you to know that I have none." As he stood up, Wendy quickly wiped the tear off her cheek. He'd brushed away all the times he'd hurt her and all the times he'd hurt others as if they were nothing. She couldn't understand it:

"You killed your friends!" she protested, "Don't you see how wrong that is? How perverse that is? And you don't even care!" She threw her sheets aside, then went to him. She searched his gaze, hoping against hope that somehow beneath the wickedness he wore like a second skin there was a trace of a conscience.

In his eyes, she saw none. Whatever strange fancy that had struck him to grant her some measure of protection in her house was gone. Whatever had prompted him, in his own way, to visit her in the night, had disappeared. There was only fire and blood and hate:

"I do care," Peter replied, "I care that they tried to kill me."

Then he vanished into the night.

Author's Note:

Firstly, thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

And secondly, as you've probably picked up on by now, there is a lot more to Peter and Wendy's relationship (and past) than meets the eye. All will be revealed in time. :)

~ladykikyo1792