Author's Note:

Thank you so much for all your reviews! I should have sent you all messages back (if I haven't, feel free to message me and let me know- it was entirely inadvertent and entirely the fault of my exams). I really do appreciate you all taking the time to do it; it means a lot to me!

Anyway, in this chapter you get to see another flashback that was supposed to be in the previous chapter. I originally was kind of upset that I split it apart, but now I actually am happy it's separated the way it is. Hopefully you like it too!

Enjoy!

~ladykikyo1792

Chapter 12: He's a Bloody Demon

For a few seconds, Wendy didn't know what to do. Her nightmares- while graphic and brutal -had never featured this. She had never considered Peter Pan in Storybrooke, or at least not looking so smug about being in high school, of all places. He simply did not belong there, and the juxtaposition caused by his presence unnerved her. The figures of the other students and the furniture in the classroom blurred in comparison to him. He was the only clear image in her vision.

"But- you- but," she couldn't even form words properly. Her mouth opened and shut like a fish dragged from the water, the syllables she tried to speak disappearing into the air. Pan strode across the room, utterly disregarding the stunned looks he was receiving from the other students. Catlike, he leaned across her desk:

"Hello, Wendy-bird."

"Peter," she whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing you, of course," Peter replied. He smirked at her, and she wanted to vomit. The other students pointed and whispered. He was so out of place amongst them, proudly wearing his outfit of leather and stitched green leaves, but being Peter, he was oblivious to the fact that he didn't belong. He acted as though he were attired in the magnificent silks of a king, but then again, he always had. His dagger was still firmly in its hilt at his waist, the silver winking in the fluorescent light of the classroom. She blinked a bit, then stared at her lap, fully expecting to see her khaki skirt and tights morph into her familiar, tattered, white nightgown. They were back in Neverland, after all, weren't they?

Weren't they?

Suddenly, she felt very, very dizzy.

"Wendy," Tink said, alarmed, "Wendy!" She reached out and touched Wendy's arm. For the first time, Peter realized that something was wrong with her. He stood back, his eyes raking over the Bird's form, as he had many times before. She had no visible injuries, no cuts, no bruises. No bones were jutting out at weird angles. She wasn't coughing.

What was wrong with her?

Peter thought he'd said the question silently, but he was pushed aside by Tink. Simultaneously angry at him (which was not a surprise to him; Tink had never been happy with him since before he'd exiled at her) and concerned for Wendy, she knelt next to her desk. Fiercely, she whispered:

"She's in shock. Wendy, you're not in Neverland anymore. We're in Storybrooke-" The fairy brushed a strand of hair out of Wendy's face, which had gone deathly pale, and continued to murmur supplications to draw her back to reality. It failed, and Wendy blinked slowly, then struggled to stand. Her footsteps were incredibly unsteady, but that didn't matter, she told herself. She had to get away from Peter. She wouldn't let him mock her, not again. She had to run- she had to go- but he would chase her through the forest, so she needed to go quickly. She might only get a few moments respite from his cutting words and dancing green eyes, but she had to try, she had to run-

She made it two paces before she fainted, her body crumpling to the linoleum floor.

Peter immediately lunged forward and caught her. Her hair tangled in the leather cuffs he wore about his wrists.

"Bird, I'm here now," he muttered. From anyone else, it would have sounded like comfort, but from him, it sounded like a dangerous reassurance: yes, Peter Pan was in Storybrooke. He was no longer in Neverland, and while Wendy had subconsciously known he had entered her world here, she hadn't quite grasped the extent of his entrance until he walked into her classroom. But she needed to accept it, and in time, Peter knew she would.

For now, though...

Peter gathered her into his arms. He cast a glance at Felix, who informed him:

"We should go to the nurse's office." As usual, his second had understood what he wanted without words. Heeding his advice- as much as Peter did not like to be unaware of what to do, Felix had been in this world longer -Peter walked towards the classroom door. Again, he paid no heed to the students.

"Gwen!"

Peter raised one eyebrow at the young man who rushed towards them. He was tall, with rather unremarkable black hair and brown eyes. Peter, who had an eye for such things, knew he would have made a terrible Lost Boy. This one, whoever he was, lacked true fire- Peter's smallest Lost Boy would have gutted him in three seconds if they were to fight. He was unabashedly ordinary, and Peter despised the ordinary.

"Her name is Wendy," he practically snarled at the trespasser (he was not a Neverlander, and therefore, he had no stake in the situation).

The boy's face grew red with anger, "Her name, as she's told everyone here, is Gwen. She's always told me that-"

"Yes," Felix drawled, "because you weren't worthy to hear otherwise." Pan's deputy had come to stand behind him, waiting for his orders. He may have been clad in a brown sweatshirt in place of his canvas hood, but he was still Pan's most loyal follower. That meant his place was with Pan- unless Pan commanded otherwise.

Tink, who awkwardly stood next to the Lost Boy, urged the non-Neverlander plaintively, "Ferdinand, don't provoke him-" She clutched Wendy's schoolbooks (her excuse for joining Peter and Felix) to her chest like a shield.

Ferdinand, who as a prince, thought himself courageous, entirely flouted her warning. He strutted up to Peter and asked:

"Why not? Who does he think he is?"

In that moment, Tink thought he was the stupidest boy who'd ever lived. He had to know. Who else would be standing in an outfit of stitched leaves carrying Wendy Darling in his arms?

Peter sneered at Ferdinand:

"Oh, did I forget to introduce myself?" he taunted the foolish prince who'd dared to challenge a king, "I'm Peter. Peter Pan."

With that, he departed the classroom. Felix gestured for Tink to go first. The fairy cast a worried look backwards, but the Lost Boy glared at her. Her cheeks coloring, she hurried after Peter.

Ferdinand made to go with them, but Felix blocked his exit. He pulled his switchblade, flicking it open:

"Don't cross Pan." His voice was deadly.

"Or what?" Ferdinand demanded.

Felix smiled, "He'll give you a scar to match mine."

Wendy Darling hadn't realized the implications of Peter Pan attending the fairy ball with her. She knew how it affected her, of course. She blushed every time she was in his presence, and found herself trying to sneak little touches or secret looks with him. Most of the Boys with the exception of Felix, didn't notice. The older boy would stare pensively at Peter and Wendy, while Tink rolled her eyes. Peter, though, acted as if nothing had changed.

But everything had, and not just between them.

The night that Wendy Darling and Peter Pan had danced among the stars, Captain Killian Jones, cruelly nicknamed "Captain Hook," by Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, had been standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger. It had become his habit to do this, every few nights. He was trying to track the stars and find a way out of Neverland. The constellations here did not match the ones he had been taught, and while he understood that, it didn't stop him from trying. Aside from that, he knew, deep in his heart, that no one could get off the island without Pan's permission. He had no leverage against Peter Pan. The boy simply did not want anything Hook could offer.

That was, until the night Hook spied Peter and Wendy. He'd been unaware of her presence in Neverland before. Peter Pan never sent his Shadow to find girls, and Tinkerbell spent her time divided between the Lost Boys and the fairy folk. The Indians, who mostly kept to the part of the island designated as theirs by Peter, did not mingle with the Lost Boys, except in battle, when the Boys grew bored with fighting the pirates and wanted a different distraction.

Wendy was truly the only girl to have walked on Neverland's soil. She was the only girl- the only person -to have danced with Peter Pan. The very notion of Pan dancing did not sit well with Hook. It did not match anything he knew of him. Pan enjoyed the sinister and cruel; hunting and fighting and occasionally, killing.

Dancing? That was an activity far too soft for him.

But if Pan deigned to dance with the girl, Hook reasoned she had to mean something to Pan.

And so he decided that Wendy would be his leverage.

It was almost too easy to get the girl, really. Since the ball, Wendy spent an inordinate amount of time on the shoreline. Hook was a romantic, and he assumed that she was probably daydreaming and reliving the night that Peter and she had danced. Though the girl could see the Jolly Roger, she was untroubled by it. As Hook had never seen her, she had never seen him- Pan had never let her fight with the Boys, so she'd never met the pirates. She knew they existed, of course, but she also knew the Boys won almost every battle against them. They weren't a threat to her. Thus she felt utterly comfortable collecting shells on the beach as the ship lolled gently in the distance.

Thus his two men were able to kidnap her without her even having the chance to scream.

When she was brought aboard, they brought her to his chambers. He didn't risk Wendy screaming- not yet -but while he was a pirate, he was also a gentleman, and he wanted Wendy to understand that they would not harm her.

Hook gestured for the trembling girl to take a seat, and she sank into the oak chair across from him at his dining table. He took a gold goblet, and inquired:

"Rum or whiskey?"

Wendy's blue eyes widened. She stammered: "I'm- I'm just a little girl!" She kept glancing from Hook to the goblet and back again, utterly terrified. She couldn't find it in herself to scream, for Hook hadn't done anything she'd expected him to do. Peter and the Boys had emphasized that the pirates were a bloodthirsty lot, and that they did the island good by keeping the pirates at bay. She'd believed Hook would try to kill her, not sit her down and offer her a drink.

Hook replied, "You must not have been on the island long then." He shrugged, and poured the tiniest bit of whiskey into her cup.

Wendy edged back in her chair, squirming, "I don't know how long I've been here-"

The pirate laughed, "If you still think of yourself as a child, lass, I can assure you, it's not that long. In time though, you won't think of yourself as a child. You'll be a grown woman trapped in a girl's body, and then, you'll acquire a taste for whiskey."

Wendy's gaze flicked down to the goblet for a second, then she pushed it away. Haughtily, she sniffed:

"That will never happen."

"I hope it doesn't," Hook said earnestly, "I hope we both get off this godforsaken island before then." His voice was bitter, and Wendy swallowed the snobby retort that she'd been preparing to say. She had always been empathetic to the feelings of others, and she was shocked to discover that Hook was sad- though he'd probably never admit that. Still, she probed:

"Wait, you want to leave? Leave Neverland?" She couldn't imagine such a thing. It was the place children visited in their dreams. It was place she had always wanted to visit for real. And now that she had, she admitted it was a bit more wild than she had first thought, but it was still incredible. How could anyone want to leave?

"That's what I've always wanted, lass. Neverland has never been kind to me. It's not a kind place, and neither are the people in it." Hook took a swig from a bottle- rum was apparently his drink of choice. And though he was enough of a gentleman to offer a goblet to a lady, he clearly did not need such niceties for himself. He didn't meet her eyes, and instead focused on a small spot on the wall. He wasn't thinking much of her, anymore, she realized.

Wendy was nothing if not curious, so she asked, "What do you mean? Neverland's wonderful-"

"It starts out that way, lass. It's a land of dreams and opportunities, but then the dreams reveal themselves to be nightmares and the opportunities to be traps," Hook stated flatly. He said this as a fact, and though she did not know it, he had many years of experience with the subject. Nevertheless, she picked up on his tone.

"I'm sure that's not true," Wendy said, "Peter rules Neverland-"

"Exactly," Hook answered, turning to her again, "I know you care for him, girl, but you should know that though he may look like a boy, but he's a bloody demon."

"Peter Pan is not a demon!" she insisted.

Hook, face filled with pity, said, "I give you a few hours before you stop believing that."

"I will never stop believing in Peter!" Wendy said fiercely. She'd promised Peter that, and it was true. She would never stop believing in him. He'd always been there for her. He'd always saved her. He promised to always catch her. She believed every word with every fiber of her being.

"I never said you'd stop believing, just that you'd stop believing he was good."

Angry now, and certain she now understood Hook's intentions, Wendy demanded, "And you plan to force me to do that?" He was as evil as everyone said! Corrupting her belief in Peter!

"I plan to let him show you that," Hook explained, "You see, I want to leave this island." He stood and began to pace around the cabin. Every so often, he glanced out the window. To his satisfaction, and a bit to his nervousness, he noticed that the normally white, fluffy clouds had become gray.

The island, and Pan, knew something was amiss. It wouldn't be long now. Hook took another drink.

Oblivious to this, Wendy asked,"Why?" He hadn't given her a real answer before, just a vague allusion to his history. Wendy was a storyteller, and she wanted the details to Hook's story- not just fragments and pieces to create a haphazard puzzle.

"If you really want to know, lass, someone killed my true love a long time ago. That man still walks free. I want to kill him," Hook said the words plainly, without relish or hatred. He didn't seem excited by the prospect of death, just that he needed it to occur. Like most needed water, Hook needed this man to die.

Wendy knew that murder was bad. She knew she should detest Hook for wanting such a thing, and that she should applaud Peter for keeping him in Neverland to prevent another man's death (for she was sure that was the only reason Peter kept Hook here). Yet as she watched Hook drink, morose and depressed, she couldn't help but be filled with a burst of pity for him. She wanted true love herself, someday, and if someone ever tried to take it from her...she would do anything to stop it. If someone succeeded, perhaps she might want to kill them too.

She hoped she was never put in that position.

"I'm sorry," Wendy said softly. Her blue eyes, much to Hook's surprise, were actually brimming with tears. The girl truly pitied him and his predicament. At that, he understood why Pan was at least, somewhat intrigued by her- Wendy had a heart great enough to care for those who had no hearts at all. And if Hook had a dark heart, Peter's was surely darker- probably the darkest heart that ever beat.

When had anyone ever cared for Peter Pan? Not feared him- many feared him -but cared for him?

Hook supposed it was probably never, though he was hardly about to risk his life to ask Pan.

"I'll talk to him for you," Wendy offered, "I'm sure I can get him to let you go." She smiled hopefully at him, and Hook envied her naivete. He also hated himself as he was going to steal it from her.

"Pan doesn't do talking, lass. Pan does exchanges. I'm going to give him you so that he will give me freedom." Somehow, Hook felt the need to explain this to her. It came out sounding almost like an apology. In the few minutes he'd spent with her, he'd come to like Wendy, and he wanted her to understand not only his motivations, but his actions. He wouldn't hurt her- it had never been about that. She was merely part of the exchange.

Just then, the sky grew black. Lightning flashed in the sky, and the sound of thunder rumbled through the Jolly Roger. The waves tripled in size and force, slamming against the ship and making it roll violently from side to side.

"Captain!" his first mate burst through the door, "He's here!" The man was panting and terrified. He struggled to hang onto the wall in the fury of the storm. Wendy shrieked as she toppled out of the chair, and Hook grabbed her before she could go smashing through the window into the sea. He held her flush against him, then forced his way past the man onto the deck.

"Hurry," Hook ordered, "Tie her to the mast. It's the only way to keep him from sinking the ship!" Wendy blanched, and meant to say all manner of horrible things to him, but Hook merely offered her a bow.

"My apologies, love," the pirate said, "but rest assured, you won't be hurt and you will survive this. However, you're the key for us to survive." Before Wendy could say another word, his first mate hustled her off. Rapidly, he tied her to the mast. Wendy, seeing just how big the waves were- and hearing the cracking of the wood in the ship -screamed.

"Peter! PETER!" she yelled his name until her throat burned. Tears slid down her cheeks, but he must have heard her, for suddenly, the waves stopped. The thunder and rain continued, but oddly, ominously, the ocean was calm. The contradiction was eerie, and she couldn't help but shiver, even in her bonds. Then, Peter's voice rang out:

"You took something of mine. Dangerous mistake, Captain," he warned as he appeared out of the shadows, "Fatal one." To emphasize his point, he casually stabbed the closest pirate who had the misfortune to be near him. The poor man gurgled as blood bubbled up in his throat, choking on his own life's essence before falling to the ground, dead. There was a brief moment of quiet as they all watched him die. Peter was smiling with satisfaction- the cut he'd made would inflict death with utmost pain. Hook grimaced, forcing the guilt down. Wendy's tears flowed faster.

Once the man's grunts of pain ended, Hook swallowed:

"No need for that, Pan. I haven't harmed the lass, and you can gladly have her back. I just want to negotiate first." He gestured to a red-faced Wendy, who was determined not to let any more tears fall. Nevertheless, Peter saw her red-rimmed eyes and how she was still shaking, though the ropes were tied forcefully around her. It infuriated him.

"What do you want?"

"Free passage out of Neverland for me and my crew. I want vengeance against my Crocodile, and I can't get that here," Hook answered immediately. This was the moment. This was his one chance to leave, and he prayed to God that the devil-boy took the bait. If he didn't...

Amused now, Peter said, "I've told you, Hook. We're business partners. Your pirates amuse my boys and in return I let you live. It's an even trade." He laughed, and the Lost Boys, who had followed him- as they always followed him -onto the ship, laughed with him.

"Life and death isn't something to be traded," Hook said seriously, and Wendy, even in her state, couldn't help but agree with him.

"In Neverland, where no one ever dies of old age, of course it is. Now you will give me back Wendy, or find all of your crew slaughtered. And perhaps you'll be missing a second hand," Peter promised. His eyes glittered, and so Hook could understand the seriousness of his threat, he waved the Boys forward. Each Lost Boy positioned himself next to a pirate, weapon poised to strike. The pirates moved their hands to their swords, but Hook commanded:

"Hold!"

Obediently, the pirates did not touch their blades, but they kept their hands as close to the sheaths as they could. The Lost Boys, meanwhile, sported feral grins. Quite a few snickered at the pirates' predicament. Wendy barely recognized them. The very same Boys who sat and listened to her stories and called her Mother, bringing her gifts and clamoring for attention, now looked like wild animals. They were wolves circling about their prey, waiting to play with it as it cried out its pain.

It frightened her.

Hook made the fatal decision to try one last time, "Pan, let us leave. Let us go, and I'll let you have the lass back." He walked slightly towards Wendy, and began to unsheath his sword. He would never have actually hurt her, of course. He was just betting that this final threat would be enough to get Pan to give in.

In retrospect, Hook would say that given all his years in Neverland, he really should have known better.

"Let me have her back?" Peter hissed like a cat. His eyes narrowed into slits, "Wendy is mine, Hook. I will take her back. I was going to give you the chance to keep your crew alive- but you made that choice for me-"

"Pan, wait-" Hook began, but it was far too late.

"Come on, Boys!" Peter hollered. He brushed the blood off his dagger, then declared, his smile utterly maniacal, "Let's play!"

Wendy shut her eyes after that.

True to his word, Peter painted the planks of the Jolly Roger red with the blood of its crew. The Lost Boys helped, of course- most had grown to care for "Mother" and were displeased at her capture. Felix, while not fond of Wendy at all, was particularly effective at- and greatly enjoyed -bashing pirates' skulls in. Blood mixed into the wood and bits of bone flew through the air. Though Wendy kept her eyes closed- Rufio yelling to her all the while it would be okay; she just needed to not to look for a few minutes more -Peter's triumphant crowing rang into her ears. It mixed with the death shrieks of pirates and the cries of injured boys. She wished she could block her ears too, but her hands were tied far too tightly behind her back. So she squeezed her eyes shut even harder, ignoring the blood splashing onto her face and trying desperately to ignore the sound of metal slicing into flesh. She couldn't understand how the boy mercilessly murdering an entire crew of pirates was the same boy who'd held her so tenderly the other night. It was as if they were two different souls slammed into the same body, and that body called himself Peter Pan.

Hook, beside her, murmured, "Now you see what I mean, lass. He may look like a boy, but he's a bloody demon. Be careful." He dragged his sword, streaked with the blood of Lost Boys, behind him, but he'd apparently despaired on wielding it any longer. Although Wendy never wanted the Lost Boys to be wounded, she was aghast that Hook had given up so easily.

"Aren't you going to defend them?" she asked accusingly. These men had been loyal to Hook, and had apparently been for many years. They deserved better than Hook just standing aside while they were killed in cold blood.

"I know when a battle's lost," Hook told her, "and this one has been lost many times over. My crew are all dying or dead already. The reason that I'm still standing is because Pan wouldn't ever kill me. I provide too much amusement for him. And he wants me to see this. He wants me to remember that I'm always in his power. You should be careful to remember that you are too, and leave Neverland while you still can."

Peter couldn't stand watching Wendy in the nurse's office. They didn't seem to care that the Bird was unconscious. They simply covered her with a blanket and told him she would wake up in a few minutes. Then they kicked him out, and as Peter had promised that Storybrooke belonged to the Evil Queen and the Savior in the daytime, he had to follow their rules- and the nurse's rules, by extension, and so he had to wait. Peter Pan never waited, and normally, he would have healed her himself. However, he could hardly force her to awaken with magic- not without alerting the Evil Queen and the Savior -that he'd lied to them. They'd been duped so easily, though he'd expected that. Still, it was to his advantage that they remained clueless of his true powers, and since both Felix and Tink had assured him the nurse was a reliable source of medical treatment, he'd sucked in his anger and left. He would do other things until the Bird woke up. Tink, for reasons Peter didn't understand- the fairy had never once been friendly to Wendy -was genuinely concerned for her. Stubbornly, she informed the nurse she would wait outside. Pan wasn't quite sure what to make of the fairy's newfound affection for Wendy, but he trusted Felix, so he left his second to stand guard outside the door while he went to seek out certain Lost Boys.

Peter wandered around the school, loitering in doorways as those bizarre, piercing bells clanged. The sound was shrill in his ears, annoying and frantic. Students rushed into the hallway at their peals, as if summoned by a supernatural force. They were clamoring and opening lockers, running with books about, scrambling to get to some other location.

It hardly seemed fun. Why would anyone want this? None of his Boys would have. Not the true ones, anyway. This was not the life of a Lost Boy, held enslaved to metal bells whose shrieks could not compare to the shrieks of battle.

Peter spotted one such boy darting down the corridor. The boy's face was contorted into a strange combination of stress, misery, and hope. He'd head the rumor that Peter was here then.

Good.

"Slightly," Peter whispered. Ever the Lost Boy, trained to respond to Peter's every command, Slightly heard him- even amidst the chaos of changing classes. Instincts honed over the years in Neverland, he dropped his books to the floor, crouched, and removed a switchblade from his pocket. He stood frozen, listening for more.

Peter resisted the urge to laugh.

Once a Lost Boy, always a Lost Boy.

"Slightly," Peter said again, this time materializing right behind him. Slightly spun around, and a million emotions flashed through his eyes on the sight of Peter. Disbelief. Happiness. Fear. A crippling desire to run, and the knowledge to know that he would never, ever, make it.

"Pan." He tilted his chin upwards.

Peter had to give him credit for not letting the fear show. He stared him down, but instead of slitting Slightly's throat, he said:

"I know you, Slightly. We've been friends for so long. You hate school. You always did. You hated it when we went together. You want me to trust that you like it now?"

Slightly was silent. He neither confirmed nor denied Peter's assertions. Either answer could result in his death.

"You want me to believe," Peter continued, incredulous, "that you like this life?" He gestured to the hallways.

Again, Slightly was silent. Despite himself, his heart gave a pang at Peter's words. Storybrooke was boring, and stifling, and Slightly had gone from being an astonishing, remarkable being, an eternal warrior in service to the most extraordinary being of all, to a nobody. Just one of many boys in the town, shoved into a family who didn't really want the responsibility of him. They tried to welcome him, but every so often, Slightly could see in their eyes the disappointment and the confusion. Just what was he? Could he really be said to be a boy, they wondered, when he had lived hundreds of years? Did he need parents? Did he want them? Would he execute them in their sleep, desperate to play again the games of blood and war Peter had taught him to love?

While Slightly had never truly wanted to murder them, he couldn't deny that sometimes he did long for the fire and heat of battle. He yearned for his bow and arrow, for blood on his hands, for Peter's approval for slaughtering a pirate. He craved it, he craved the freedom of being a Lost Boy, he craved the wildness of Neverland.

"Tell me, Slightly. Why did you betray me?"

For a long time, Slightly didn't answer, but then he said, "It was a mistake, Peter. A stupid mistake." He'd been afraid of Peter in those last days, when his madness was apparent. And Emma Swan and the others had offered him something he'd always wondered about in Neverland- a family. A home. Slightly was one of the few Lost Boys who did not have entirely negative memories about this land. Unlike the others, his parents had merely died- of influenza, the doctors had said, as if that was supposed to make him feel better when he lost both them at once and was yanked out of the second family he'd had at school. So though he adapted well to Neverland, and appreciated the friends- the third family -he'd gained there, a part of him had wondered if what it would be like to have real parents again.

And when the other boys gave in, so did he. They'd used that temptation against him.

"It was a mistake, Slightly, wasn't it?" Peter hissed, idly playing with his dagger. He knew Slightly could hear it, and the boy swallowed. Though he was obviously wary- Slightly was not a fool, and he was well-aware of Peter's prowess -he also refused to show it. This was a lesson Peter had taught him, and it pleased Peter that Slightly still remembered it. Slightly was a Lost Boy. Ferdinand, he thought scornfully, could learn from him.

Feeling generous, Peter said, "But we've been friends for such a long time. One of the first Lost Boys. So I want to give you a chance to rectify it." He smiled at Slightly, and despite his normal persona of arrogance and power, there was some genuineness in it. Slightly recognized that, and looked up hopefully.

Seeing he had won, Peter ordered, "Show me you're loyal. Get rid of a threat to us. Get rid of someone who can't be trusted," he held his hand out to Slightly, "And if you do...then you can come home to Neverland with me, and this whole thing will be forgotten."

Slightly took his hand.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!

~ladykikyo1792