Night Mares and Dream Snakes
4/4
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Beyond the shadow that had fallen over Neverland, the sun in all its glory was rising. Ribbons of light flew like streamers across the trembling seas, but upon reaching the border between the real world and Neverland, they were thrown back to bounce across the waters like shards of broken glass. Unable to penetrate the thick shadow, the sun gave up after so many tries and continued on its way, gliding across the heavens whilst clouds that managed to slip through the barrier turned black and cruel upon entering.
Somewhere below the surface of the dark waters inside the barrier that separated Neverland from the real world, mermaids swam in circles, gnashing their teeth and hissing to themselves in a language so foul the sound of it coming from their own mouths rankled their nerves. And even further below them, was something so dark and sinister that had lain in wait since longer than anyone could remember. It curled itself into a tight knot beneath a light layer of sand at the water's floor, one bulging eyeball staring up at the shadow of the ship that floated idly above it.
The Jolly Roger lay anchored in the bay, still, unmoving except for the bobbing of its mass on the waves that swept beneath it. Silence reigned aboard the ship as though everyone who was on it had fallen into a deathly silent sleep, the only sound that of the creaking of wood and the water's lapping against the hull, and the odd rat that squeaked to itself as it rummaged through Cookson's food stores. Not a soul moved on deck, not a whisper was heard, and it was as though it were the calm before the storm.
The entire island was silent, and it was with some trepidation that Hook quietly ordered his men to row faster towards the shore. About two hours previous, the Captain of the Jolly Roger had abruptly ordered for the ship to be abandoned. None of the crew knew why, and Hook did not tell them – they simply followed his orders, the strange urgency in his voice alerting them to some unknown danger that lurked nearby, waiting to pounce.
Lost within his own thoughts, Hook watched as they drew further away from his ship. The ship he had rightly earned, and now had to abandon. But he knew it was the correct course, for to deny the truth of what his dreams had told him was to misstep in the dance with death. And Hook, as brave and daring a man as he was, had no wish to die until his revenge on Peter Pan had been completed.
The boy had not been the only one to sleep that night. Hook himself had journeyed through the land of dreams, and it was with some surprise that he found that Neverland's Fair Folk roamed about even in a true man's dreams.
A mare had come to him, whispering of dark tidings. Her name was Minuit, she said, and there was little time to explain in full detail what he must do to survive the next few hours. She had then proceeded to show to him what was happening on the rest of the island, and had even dared to take him into Pan's dreamscape, where he had seen a great shadow looming over the boy with claws ready to strike at any moment.
"That is the Enemy," Minuit had told him softly. "He plans for Pan's death. Even now he watches the boy with one eye, while the other rests upon the island." She explained to him of the orders he had given Peter, and the threat he issued. "Within the next few hours, Captain, the Enemy shall strike upon your ship. By then you must be away!"
"I'll not run from some pathetic spirit," Hook growled in response. "No creature, human or non, shall drive me from my ship!"
"Then you will suffer the ultimate price," Minuit had hissed, dark eyes flashing crimson briefly. She tossed her head, allowing the stars in her mane to tumble about. "Know this, James Hook," she said hoarsely. "You and your men will die at dawn if these words are not heeded. Another will claim your prize, that of Pan's life, and you will be lost into the dust from which your kind came so many years ago. I tell you this at the risk of my own existence, Captain. Hear me, and obey."
"I obey no one," Hook snapped, but Minuit was galloping away. The landscape had turned to stars, and her hoofs brought shards of shattered flames up in their wake as she fled. Frowning, Hook had turned back to the scene and watched as Pan writhed miserably under the great shadow's gaze, as its talons prodded yielding flesh and drew blood.
The man grew insanely jealous then. How dare another man, thing or Fay tread upon Hook's territory? Pan was his! No one else could have him, ever! It was his vengeance, and his alone that would come about when the time was right. It would be his hook, his own metallic appendage that would rip the intestines from the boy's belly and toss them upon the decks of his ship, forever staining the planks with blood. No Fay swine would take that from him, ever!
But, he thought, what of the cost? To live to kill, to have his revenge…in life, there is and always will be sacrifices for things that one wants. Hook knew this as well as anyone. Would he have to sacrifice his ship in order to survive long enough to destroy Pan once and for all? Or was the cost for his vengeance that of his pride, in having to flee from the enemy? Hook did not know for sure, and though he was educated, such education did not always answer the more puzzling of questions.
Still, he thought. Anything was worth it if he were to have his revenge. To abandon ship to obtain the life of his greatest enemy…it was a small price, when he really thought about it. A small price indeed, and Hook was good at judging whether the price was correct or not.
And so it was, he stood at the head of the longboat, watching as they drew away from his beloved Jolly Roger. You are but a small price to pay, he thought to the ship. And I will see you resurrected as never before when this dark ordeal is finished.
No mermaids had appeared to prevent them from leaving the Jolly Roger, but instinct told them it would not be that way for long. So with Hook at the head and the sleeping form of Peter Pan in his arms, the rest of the crew rowed swiftly but silently towards shore. Eerie was the atmosphere, pregnant with foreboding, and it was the moment the last man – Starkey – stepped ashore, that the crew realized exactly why the captain had ordered them to abandon ship.
The beast beneath the waves rose up much like an enormous snake, rearing its head above the ship and snapping its fanged jaws together viciously. Smooth was its body, so as not to make a sound as it slipped through the waters. It brought its tail forth from the foam, curling it about the ship much like a snake strangling a mouse. And as the men on shore watched, horrified, it slowly began to drag the ship below the surface of the bay, its jaw dragging the mast down until the vessel lay sideways. Bubbles exploded from the air locked within the hull, and the snapping of wood as the sinuous body crushed the ship echoed across the water with an eerie finality.
It didn't take long to sink the Jolly Roger. Nor did it take long for Hook and the rest of his crew to flee into the woods. However, it was a long while before the man decided on a final course of action, during which other events took place across the magical isle, and in the real world.
Honkers was no fool. Stupid at times, as all trolls were, but certainly not a fool. The shadows and mist that surrounded him and his companions spoke of dark tidings that he could feel deep in his bones. And despite his best efforts, he could feel fear creeping stealthily into his heart as he, Shankers and Tootles made their way deeper and deeper into the forest.
All around him he could hear the trees whispering to each other, dark words that he knew were always present the closer one came to the Were-Forest. He had been there many times in his youth, and knew the right paths to take to get them where he wanted them to be at the fastest pace. Though consciously he wasn't sure why he wanted to take them to the Were-Forest, on some level he believed that it would be the safest place for him and his little group. At the very least he knew he could defend them against the Were-Trees, whereas the creatures in Neverland were harder to defeat, especially now that he knew they were very Not Right.
Less than an hour previously, Honkers and his group had come across a troop of dwarves. His first instinct was to charge out of the underbrush, club swinging wildly and bash the heads in of the bastards who had dared to destroy his kinfolk. He wanted to kill, he wanted to see blood fly and most of all, he wanted revenge. The fury that swept over him was nigh on impossible to shake off. But all it took was the look on his brother's face as he cowered behind a tree, whimpering quietly to himself that swayed the huge troll's decision.
Rather than risk the lives of his brother and the man-cub, Honkers had instead faded back into the underbrush, uncharacteristically taking his brother's hand and leading him away, for Shankers the Idiot was very nearly paralyzed with fear. Once they were out of earshot, however, Honkers had immediately let go and hissingly berated his stupid brother for his lack of self-control. Moments of kindness don't last very long among troll kind, and Honkers wasn't about to repeat the coddling anytime soon.
But that didn't mean he didn't understand why Shankers was afraid. He understood alright. He hadn't looked at the dwarves very long, but he knew that there was something strangely off about them, something that didn't sit quite right. It sent chills up his spine and whatever it was that had caused it, whatever it was that was wrong, his instincts bellowed to him that he really didn't want to find out.
Whatever the case, Honkers was more at ease with himself than he ever had been. And the more he listened to his brother ramble nonsensical words to Tootles in the dark, the more glad Honkers was that he had avoided a fight. And in the shadows of early morning, with the clouds broiling overhead and the only other sound that of rattling leaves, Honkers admitted to himself that he would rather see his brother safe than in the clutches of those hell-bound dwarves. And, he thought, if that meant fleeing from a fight rather than looking for one, he would gladly do it without hesitation.
But, back to the current situation.
Honkers knew dawn was coming. And he knew that most creatures of the night hid in the caves when the sun rose. He didn't think they would do that this day, however, for there was no sign of the sun at all, and his instincts were screaming at him. There was something out there in the dark, pacing them, watching them, eyeballing them with what he could only assume was loathing and hatred. He could feel eyes on him, taking note of every move he made, and Honkers did not like it.
Abruptly, he stopped and raised a hand. Behind him, Shankers and Tootles stopped. Deep-set eyes scanned the vicinity, narrowed and cautious. Something not right here, Honkers thought with a scowl. Something out there, watching us.
To his left, there was a slight rustling of leaves. On any normal day he would have assumed it was the wind; but the wind was strangely absent, and there was simply a strange, foreboding silence permeating the atmosphere. Honkers scowled some more, reaching up to take hold of the giant club he always carried, hand clenching around its base and holding it in preparation for attack.
A strange scent drifted to him by a sudden light breeze. He sniffed cautiously, his brow furrowing. The rustling of leaves came again, his sharp ears picking up the sound of soft footsteps in the mud. He gripped his club tighter.
"Brother?" Shankers whispered.
"Hush," Honkers growled.
Suddenly, the huge troll spun and hurled his club into the underbrush. A howl cut through the night as the sound of the club impacting with something made of flesh sounded, and there was another thump as whatever it was hit the ground. Silence reigned for another second before a yelp sounded, and then Honkers was thundering through the bushes, growling deep in his throat.
"What is it?" Tootles whispered, clutching Shankers' neck tightly.
"Got it," Honkers announced triumphantly as he stomped his way back through the bushes and onto the path. He held out his left fist and from it dangled a humanoid figure. Only it wasn't human; it was something Tootles had had nightmares about from time to time after some of Peter's stories. Furry, with paws and claws and fangs and big, pointed ears….
"Werewolf," Shankers hissed quietly.
"Stupid thing hunting us," Honkers said darkly as he came to stand a few feet away from them, the werewolf hanging limply from his hand. A trail of blood dribbled through the fur on her (for it was a she) face from where Honkers' club had struck.
As Shankers stared at her, something within his mind clicked. He had seen her before! He had seen her when the spirit-sword had spoken to him, using images to describe what was going to happen, to show him what was to come in the next while. The sword had shown him the wolf, shown him that she would come to them and he knew, with utter certainty, that she was not like the dwarves. That she was good. Because the spirit sword said so.
The spirit sword had shown him her purpose, and it was with a strangled sound in his throat that he yelled, "Brother, no!" as Honkers made to grab her by the throat and snap her neck in two.
"What!"
"Brother not hurt wolf-girl!" Shankers said quickly, dashing over to grab Honkers' arm and squeeze it tightly. "Brother must listen!" he said as Honkers gave him a baleful scowl. "Brother must not hurt wolf-girl! Spirit sword say she good, good, like us, not bad like dwarves. Brother must listen!"
"Why listen to stupid twin who talks to self?" Honkers snapped back, irritated. Here he had been trying to protect them and his stupid brother wanted to protect the thing he was protecting them from! The very thought made him feel nauseous with confusion. What the hell did he just think? Oh, kill the werewolf.
Shankers tugged on his arm again. "Brother, please! Listen!" His whining grew louder in pitch, to almost a squeak. "Not know what you doing, not know consequences! Must not kill wolf-girl! Bad, bad!"
"Why should listen to brother?" Honkers growled, yanking his arm away.
"Because brother knew about dwarves!" Shankers shot back. "Twin not know about them, twin not listen, and brother was right! Brother should listen to twin, twin listen to spirit sword and spirit sword is good."
"Spirit sword, brother should marry goddamn spirit sword," Honkers rumbled sourly. But with his twin's eyes on him, pleading and watering with tears, he found himself relaxing his grip. It couldn't hurt, after all. The werewolf was nowhere near as powerful as he, and he could crush her with his fist anytime he pleased. However…
"Brother will make deal," he said slowly, glaring at Shankers. "Will not kill wolf-girl, but not let her go. Make sure it safe for us first."
"Fine!" Shankers said, relieved. "But not kill her."
"Not kill her," Honkers agreed. Inwardly he was seething. Stupid, stupid, always doing what brother wants, not what me want. Damn him. Damn kin. Damn.
Taking a rope from his belt, Honkers immediately wrapped it around the werewolf's neck, tying it securely before dropping her to the ground. A low groan emitted from her throat when the impact of hitting the ground knocked her back into some semblance of awareness.
"Nyyyrrrg…."
"What name?" Shankers asked of her suddenly, ignoring his brother for the moment. Tootles continued to clutch to the troll's neck, staring at her with some fear. The creature blinked blearily, peering up at Shankers through cloudy eyes.
"My name?" she asked. Shankers nodded. She frowned, blinking again. "Uhhh…" She shook her head, rolled over painfully, and blinked some more as she got a good look at Honkers' gigantic feet. "My…name…" she trailed off as her eyes lifted up, up, up to see the huge troll's scowling face staring down at her. She froze. "Eeeeeyeeee…"
"No worry," Shankers said happily as he reached down and picked her up. "We not hurt you. What name?"
With her brain still befuddled from being knocked out by Honkers' club, she said (with some confusion), "Icky…?"
"Icky!" Shankers laughed. "Me Shankers, he Honkers, and this Toot-less!" He set Icky down again, grinning stupidly as the werewolf swayed on her feet, one hand reaching up to clutch at her head.
"What…the hell…" It was about then that she felt the rope around her neck, and she froze again. "What the hell!"
"Not taking it off," Honkers said nastily from behind her when she tugged on the rope. "You dangerous. You stay with us."
"What… huh… what the HELL!?" Icky turned quickly, and almost fell over when a wave of dizziness washed over her. She groaned again, clutching her head. "Damn you… what did you do to me?"
"Hit you with club," Honkers said bluntly.
"Look, I…I don't have time for this." She blinked again, shook her head, then growled darkly in the back of her throat. "Get this goddamn rope off me."
"No." Honkers tugged on the rope a bit, nearly making her fall over. She hissed, eyes flashing angrily.
"Look pal," Icky snarled, albeit weakly. "I haven't got time for this. I have to get back, there's someone who needs my help…" She tugged on the rope again, wincing as it rubbed against the thin layer of fur on her throat. "Damn it, please! If I don't get the wolfsbane back to Nibs soon he'll—"
"Nibs?" Tootles practically squealed. "You know Nibs?!"
"OW!" Icky covered her ears, wincing. She sent a glare to Tootles, who cowered a bit under it. "Mind keeping the noise level down, human?" Then she sighed, rubbing her head again. "Yeah, I know Nibs. What of it?"
"Where is he?" Tootles asked. "Is he okay? What happened? And where's Peter?"
"He'll be fine if you let me go," Icky retorted nastily, casting another glare at Honkers, who glared at her some more and gripped the rope tighter. She made a face. "What the hell did I ever do to you?"
"What happened to him?" Tootles asked, jumping down from Shankers' shoulder to run over to Icky and tug on her arm. His face was full of childish worry, and Icky wrinkled her nose at it. It was too cute. "Please tell me! He's part of my family!"
Icky sighed again. "Okay, okay – here's the basics. He's sick, because he was bitten by a spider creature and I had to bite him and then he started turning into a werewolf so I had to go out and find some wolfsbane to keep him from changing fully and I don't have a lot of time so if I don't get back right now he's going to become a werewolf forever so would you please just let me go already?!" She winced again, running a hand over her face. "Ow."
Tootles bit his lip. "Well… can we come with you then?" He ignored Icky's attempt to tug her wrist gently out of his grip.
Icky paused. "What?"
"Well, I don't think Honkers is going to let you go, so I was wondering if we could go with you? They won't hurt us!" Tootles said quickly as Icky threw the trolls a wary glance. "They've been taking care of me, and maybe being in groups would be a good idea. Five instead of three and…um…yeah."
Icky blinked, chewing her bottom lip as she looked the trolls over again. "I don't know…" She then threw a glare at Honkers. "Seeing as that one already clubbed me, I'm not keen on it." She tugged again, but Tootles still wouldn't let go.
"Please?" Tootles pleaded, pulling on her arm. "They can protect us! And I need to see Nibs!"
Frowning, Icky once again tried to pry Tootles' hands off her wrist. "Look, kid, I don't know. Where Nibs is, is in a place where I don't like people going. It's secret and safe, which was why I brought him there. He's real sick and I don't really want to compromise that."
"Please!" Tears began to well up in the boy's eyes. "He's my family, I must see him! If he's sick I need to be there for him!"
"Hey," Icky snapped, thought more gently than she would have wanted, "I just don't think it's a good idea. You wouldn't want to see him the way he is right now. It would be… unpleasant. For you, that is."
"Why?" Tootles whined, tugging harder on her wrist. "If he's so sick I have to see him! I have to know if he's okay! I don't care how bad he looks; I need to be there for him! He'd want me there!"
If you're always this whiny I don't see how he would, Icky thought somewhat sourly as she vainly tried to drag her arm out of his grip without knocking him down. After a few more futile attempts and the boy's tears finally grating on her nerves, she said, "Okay, look, fine! Happy? I'll take you to him."
Tootles gasped, grinning happily. "Oh, thank you!" He then threw himself at her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"AWK!"
When she finally disengaged herself from the boy's grip, Icky shook a finger at him. "But if those trolls try and eat me, I will eat YOU. Got that?"
Shankers giggled. "No worry. Me not eat pet doggie."
"WHAT?!"
Tootles just smiled.
Peter dreamed.
He had come to him again. The stranger. Bathed in a light that seemed almost holy, he threw back the darkness with a mere wave of his hand. The sword at his side glimmered brightly in the shadows that permeated Pan's dreamscape, and the boy nearly cried at this strange friend's arrival. His soul ached from the tortures brought down upon him by the Beast's hands; he could feel the Weave trembling miserably as it attempted to regain what strength had been plucked from it when the Enemy shredded its webbing string by string.
Curses the likes of which Peter had never heard before, nor even thought to dare to repeat (for they were the nasty sort not even a man would dare utter) resounded, fading as the Enemy fled back to whence it came, snarling promises of revenge. And despite the pain, Peter wanted to crow in triumph at its retreat. He knew in his heart the stranger (who he felt he ought to know but could not remember if he did or not) would keep him safe, but only for so long.
"You must try to stay awake, Peter," the stranger whispered to him softly as he cut the hidden bonds with his gleaming sword. "I cannot always protect you from him."
"Must you leave?" Peter whispered back, his voice trembling and scratchy from the screams he had been forced to utter. "Can't you stay?"
"No." Gentle eyes gazed at him from a face too blurry to see, a face bathed in holy light that Peter had trouble seeing past. "I have a duty I must do in the waking world before I am able to protect you from him forever. When it is complete, I will return to you, and you will never have to fear him again."
"What duty?" Peter asked, allowing his dream-self to stand and look at the stranger.
"That," said the stranger, "I cannot say. Your existence depends solely on mine being a secret to all but those who are supposed to know. Rest assured, Peter," he added, "that I will not abandon you, and when I can I shall return to guard you from the Menace. Until then…" And here he waved a hand, and a window appeared in the dreamscape off to their left, "Hook will protect you."
"Hook?" Peter asked incredulously. "Hook can't even beat me, how can he protect me?"
The stranger gave him a somewhat scathing look then. "You have very few allies right now, Pan," he said in a low voice. "And what allies you have, you must keep. It is vital that you remain with Hook during this time. He can protect you where I cannot."
Peter made a face. "But…"
"There will be no 'buts', Peter," the stranger said, a little harshly. "There is no choice in the matter. If you will not allow Hook to protect you until I am able, then you will die – and there are no alternatives. It is Hook, or no one. And I know as well as you do that you can't fight in the position you're in right now."
Peter blinked, then brought his hand slowly up to his eyes. "My eyes," he murmured. The stranger nodded. Peter looked up at him again. "Will they heal?"
"Yes. But it will take some time. Certainly not before the day is over." Peter sighed, and the stranger reached out and tipped his chin up so the youth would look at him again. "Take heart, Peter. You are not alone in this fight." At the boy's inquisitive look, the strange allowed a smile to cross his face. "For fear of Him finding out, I cannot say who they are. But I will say that you have allies in this war, and they will be there for you when you need them to be."
Peter frowned. "When will that be?"
"Not for a day, my friend," the stranger said solemnly. "Sadly, this fight will be longer than that. And they need time, much as I do, to prepare for the final battle."
"And when will that be?" Peter asked, curious.
The stranger gave him a dark look. "Soon," was all he said.
Silence fell between them for a few moments, and the stranger glanced off into the distance. He seemed to sense something, for her shook his head. "I must leave now," he said, and turned. Peter grabbed his arm.
"Wait! You can't really leave me here!" he exclaimed.
"I have no choice," the shining one said, prying his arm free of Peter's grip. "You will awaken within the next few moments, and I must return to my duty. Little time is given to me to protect you, and our stars are not always on the same path. Peter…" He took a step back. "Don't shun the aid of Hook, or his men. They are all you have right now, and you must – must – remain with them until I am able to come for you. Please, trust me."
Peter clenched his hand into a fist. "I won't depend on Hook or his men for anything," he said darkly. The stranger frowned, then shook his head.
"Then you will perish. And your friends will meet the same fate. And the Enemy will win." They locked eyes for a moment. "I don't like it any more than you do, Peter Pan, but I am willing to sacrifice anything to keep you safe. You must learn that some things are more important than pride."
And with that, he walked away, fading into the shadows from whence he came. The light dimmed, and Peter was left alone.
Next up: Awakenings....