![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I know! I am so terrible, making you all wait so long. But...i just had so much trouble writing this past two or three weeks. Dunno - maybe the holiday and such just got me all...discombobulated. I'm gonna have pictures from that up soon... :)
Anyway - snow! Ice! Cooooold temperatures! At least we're having some *winter* weather. And to hear the weathermen talk, it's like 'the end is nigh'!! People - please. We've had mild winters, but we haven't like - evolved past being able to survive them! Sheesh. It's just a little *snow*. And ice.
*rolls eyes*
Anyway - my undying and most sincere thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reremouse for unflagging support and beta-work and for always telling me the truth. And to darkhavens, as well, for helping me over a little hump. And Snow!! You always cheer me on - and up. *smoooooch*
Previous chapters are here.
One. More. To go. :)
Pan came down in the midst of them like a stooping hawk to the center of a flock of pigeons. Pirates and lost boys alike yelled, stumbling back. The fairies swarmed for a moment and then dispersed, lining the shrouds and rails all around. A blue one buzzed drunkenly into Spike and then settled on his shoulder.
"Feeling better, mate?" Spike asked, and Tinkerbell chimed softly at him.
"Hook! You coward. You wait until I'm gone – you attack when my boys are already hurt –!"
"Not your boys, Pan," Hook purred, and Peter checked, staring at him.
"Of course they're my boys! They're the lost boys, they'll always be –" Peter's voice choked off as two pirates shouldered through the crowd and flung Tootles' limp, blood-smeared body to the planking at his feet. Pan stared, open-mouthed, for a long, long moment. Hook watched him, eyes slitted like a cat's.
"Oh. Oh, it's... Tootles?" Peter crouched down, one hand going out. His fingertips lightly touched the torn flesh of Tootles' throat – the rivulets of still-wet blood and then he snatched his hand back, horror on his face. Eyes fixed on the bloom of scarlet across his skin.
"There's the last one loyal to you, Pan," Hook said. He crouched down as well, gaze on Peter's pale face, the skirts of his scarlet coat spreading out around him. "He's the only one who wouldn't swear loyalty to me – wouldn't swear to be a pirate."
"So you killed him..." Peter whispered. Hook nodded slowly. Peter wiped his fingers on the wet deck, hand shaking. He looked up at the other boys, his eyes wide. They stared back, still dazed from the drug – from what they had done.
Spike could hear them – the click and wheeze and rush of their lungs, the rabbit-fast thump thump of their hearts. The creak of the ship – the muted tinkling of the hundreds of fairies that looked on from aloft. The storm raged overhead, all but silent, the thunder like great, soft beats of a fan.
"Why would you – how could you betray me?" Pan whispered, and the boys swayed – shuffled. Shifted on their feet, looking down. "How?" Peter shouted, and Xander stumbled forward with a gasp.
"We tried to be loyal to you Peter but you hurt us. You get us killed and you leave us and you – you're all Joan Crawford with the 'no more wire hangers!'" Xander heaved in a sharp breath, glancing swiftly around at the other boys – at Spike. "You stole us! We never wanted to come here – we never wanted to leave home!"
"Of course you did! When I came for you, you were crying! You were sad, you were hurt! Slightly –"
"No!" Xander screamed, and Peter flinched back – everyone did. Spike felt Tink flinch into his neck with surprise. "My name's Xander! I'm Xander Harris and I'm from Sunnydale, California! I'm not the Slightly!"
Peter's eyes were wet – glinting with tears that finally spilled over, sudden streak of quicksilver in the tarnished-black air. He held his blood-streaked hand out and it...shook. "But –"
"And I'm not a lost boy anymore. I'm not a lost boy."
"Yes you are!" Peter whispered. He wiped furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand – took a step toward Xander, his hand still outstretched. "You're all –"
"No," John interrupted, hugging his arms tight around his thin ribs. "We – I'm not a lost boy, either."
"Neither am I," Michael said. He looked over at the twin, who shook his head slowly.
"I'm not either. I took a blood-oath, I'm a pirate now," the twin said, holding up his hand.
Peter shuddered and his own hand fell to his side – fell on the hilt of the dagger he had through his belt. "Curly? Surely you –"
"It's Danny," the boy said, lifting his chin. "And I'm n-not a lost boy anymore."
Pan just stared at him – stared at them all, his face smeared with tears and his chest heaving – shoulders shaking. He backed away from them as if they were menacing him and Spike felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
"Xander, get down!" Spike yelled and lightning clove the sky – the ship – nearly clove Curly. Everyone was in motion, Smee was screaming for buckets and then the storm came back. "Tink, get to Xander," Spike muttered, lifting the tiny body off his shoulder – lofting Tink gently up and out. Pan rose into the air in a whirl of smoke and a deafening crack of thunder and Spike launched himself up the stairs – up to the poop-deck rail and from there...leapt.
Peter's body was thin and hot and supple as a cat's. Twisty as a cat's, and Spike hung on grimly as Pan spun and writhed and kicked at him – tried to slash at him, but Spike had his own hand curled around the hilt of Peter's dagger, over Peter's hand. Crushing the slender fingers and Spike was not letting go. The boy shot upward, fast and furious, until the ship was a toy and the clouds were closing around them, cold and black and stitched with lightening. The thunder was physical, reverberating through Spike's bones.
"They've given up on you, Pan!" Spike shouted. He locked his arm tighter around Pan's chest – dug his elbow into the thin, heaving ribs and jammed his chin down onto Pan's shoulder, the pale-golden sweep of Pan's throat under his cheek. "They're gone. Loyal to Hook and no other!" Spike felt them dip in the air – felt Pan's body shudder. His free hand was clawing at Spike's arm – slipping on the leather of Spike's coat.
"They sealed the oath with their blood, Pan! They don't want to play anymore." Spike felt Peter's hand go lax under his at that – felt their upward momentum slow and then stop and they hung in the air. Hung in a furling veil of grey, the thunder gone silent and the lightning hopscotching in tiny, hissing crackles. Nothing like it was before. Nothing at all.
"But...why?" Peter whispered. His head hung a little to the side – his clawing hand dropped down from Spike's arm and hung, motionless. "Is it a...game?"
"No game," Spike murmured. He pressed Peter closer to him, the heated whipcord of the boy's body gone boneless now. No fight left. "They're deadly earnest. They've grown up, and they want to go home." Spike closed his eyes for a moment as they dipped lower, easing free of the clouds – sinking slowly back down to the ship. He took a long breath, shivering a little. Pan's scent was the same as any boy – cake and blood, salt and earth. But something else was there – some low, musky undertone that murmured of dim forests and hidden grottos – of time and knowledge and age that lay – so heavy. "You have to let them go, Peter," he said, watching. Watching as Peter's gaze roved distractedly to and fro, seeing nothing.
"But I need them. There's always...always lost boys. It...says so. In the book. It says..."
"Shhh...." Spike opened his mouth – rested it for a moment on the sweet-salt skin of Pan's throat and then carefully, delicately, bit. Peter didn't move – didn't make a sound – and Spike drank. One long mouthful that was like wine and pure oxygen and honey – like sunlight and dew. With a sigh, Peter closed his own eyes, and they slipped down and down until Spike's boots touched the deck of the Jolly Roger.
Touched down in the midst of the boys, the pirates, the fairies. The storm was silent now – the clouds still streaming overhead, the sea still rushing up the beach. But all muted – all washing to shades of charcoal and ash and shadow. Only Hook's coat stood out, crimson slash upon the air. As Spike let his arms loosen – prepared to let Peter slide to the deck – Hook stepped forward, cutlass raised, and drove it through Peter's heart.
"Proud and insolent youth," Hook gasped, white as salt and breathless, his bottle-blue eyes wide. "Prepare to meet thy doom."
An inarticulate groan was wrenched out of Peter's mouth and Hook jerked his sword free, staring at the blood-stained tip. "Oh, please," Peter whispered, sagging, and Spike tugged Pan's head over gently, laying the golden head on his shoulder.
"No worries, boy. Won't hurt now."
"Stop! What – what are you doing?" Xander pushed his way past pirates and boys alike – did a funny little catch-step over Tootles' outflung arm.
"Killing Pan, Xander – what we said." Spike watched Xander's gaze go from Pan to Hook and back to Pan – to Spike, furious and horrified. Tink was on Xander's shoulder, tangled in the draggled locks.
"But – you can't –"
"It's the deal, Xander. I kill Pan – Hook gets us home. Want to go home, don't you?" Peter was limp – nearly unconscious – and Spike hitched him up a little bit. "I'm bloody well getting out of here, and I don't give a fuck who I have to kill to do it."
Xander looked like he wanted to say something else, to stop Spike, but Hook interrupted. He dropped his cutlass to the deck and slipped his coat off, holding it up. "Sir – Spike. Give me the boy, will you? Give him to me."
Spike frowned at Hook, not wanting to give up any advantage. Hook nodded, lifting his coat encouragingly – looking up and around with a lift of his eyebrow and Spike did the same. Everything was going...still. The waves were rippling into smoothness – the clouds flattening out, smoothing like sand on a beach. And the horizon...
*Getting closer. Bloody hell, what does that mean? It's... Fuck. It's going away.* "Yeah, I – yeah, alright." Spike shuffled Pan a step or two toward Hook and Hook met him, wrapping his coat around the slim shoulders and lifting the boy in his arms. Standing there, his hair slick with rain and pushed back – his white shirt a-gleam in the dimness, Hook looked very like...
*Looks like any man. Any man holding his son...*
Hook held Peter close to him, the wound of Pan's chest pressed to Hook's own heart – the costume of ragged leaves covered by the thick velvet of the coat. Peter's head was on Hook's shoulder and his hand curled loosely at Hook's neck, his eyes half-shut, his mouth a little open, showing the tiny, pearly teeth.
"You cheated...Hook, you cheated..."
"Shh now," Hook whispered, smoothing his hand down and down Pan's back. He looked up at Spike, his eyes fierce and glinting and somehow...not so tired. "It's going, vampire. All of it. The Great God Pan is dead and with him dies everything and everyone."
"Then tell me how in hell to get back home!" Spike snapped, and he felt Xander move up beside him – the other boys all around, Curly leaning on Michael and John still huddled, hugging himself.
"Spike –"
"Don't you know, vampire? When Pan dies – so does Neverland. And when Neverland dies....we all go home. Isn't that where you go, when you're hungry and cold..." Hook lifted his hand and stroked Peter's hair back from his forehead – rested his thin cheek there for a moment. "When you're so, so tired..."
"Tired," Peter whispered, and Hook closed his eyes for a moment.
"I know, my little man, I know. We're going to rest now. We're all going to rest and have lovely, happy dreams."
Peter's eyes opened a little wider and he seemed to struggle for a moment. Spike could smell his blood, thick and warm – could imagine that the breast of Hook's shirt must be scarlet with it. Hook shushed him again, stroking his back.
"No, no. Don't fret, boy. I know about your dreams. I know that you cry. You won't cry anymore, my boy."
"Your boy," Peter murmured, and his eyes fluttered closed. Hook looked up – looked around, his eyes darting from pirate to pirate and boy to boy – lingering last on Spike.
"It's over, you dogs – you mad hellions! It's over and now we go to our reward. Down to perdition or up to paradise – or to Davy Jones, to serve out our sentence... The finest pack of brigands on the Seven Seas!"
"Hook!" the pirates shouted, fists raised – eyes wet. "Hook, Hook, Hook!"
"Roxy – I have to get Roxy –" The twin – Tony – bolted for the hatch below and Michael gathered John close to him – looked at Spike with frightened eyes.
"Is it true? Are we going home?"
"I don't have a sodding clue, mate," Spike growled. He looked anxiously at the horizon and it was much, much closer – and moving fast. A boiling mass of darkness and all of Neverland was unweaving itself into it. As he stared, the furthest beach-head twisted and whirled and siphoned away, streaming up and out and gone into a void even his demon's eyes couldn't penetrate.
Xander was standing there staring with him, thin shoulders hunched and his hair curling damply over his neck. Spike reached out and pulled him close, face to face. Put his hands flat on Xander's shoulder-blades, feeling the thrum of Xander's heart through his palms. Tinkerbell disentangled himself from Xander's hair and fluttered upward, his glow flickering madly.
"I just – fuck, I want to be home, Spike. Anywhere but here, you know?"
"Yeah, me too," Spike said. He watched over Xander's shoulder as the nothingness advanced – as the clouds raveled away and the sea drained into the air – as the mermaids arrowed through the water away from it, but it was on all sides now, and there was no escaping it.
"No, I mean...it's a game we used to...we'd say 'anywhere but here' and then...then tell where we wanted to be most." Xander shivered, his breath getting a little shorter – his eyes flickering here and there, wide and scared.
"Yeah? Sounds like fun. Here – Xander?"
"Oh, god, it's really – really moving fast –" Xander was shaking now – looking around a little wildly and Spike caught Xander's face in his hands – made him still. Made him look at Spike, and nowhere else.
"We'll be fine, yeah? Hook...he knows what he's talking about. We'll be fine."
"We will?"
"We will."
"Dust! Fairy dust!" Hook was looking up at the fairies – lifting his hand for a moment from Peter's back. "Give us your magic – lift us up! Don't let the Roger meet her fate shackled to the earth!"
Above them the fairies stirred – lifted – began to flit madly to and fro, skeins of sparkling dust sifting down fine as flour over the ship. And, impossibly – she rose. Righted herself and floated up and turned, the sails belling in an un-felt breeze. She seemed to pause a moment – to gather herself – and then she plunged forward into the air, and the crew let out a wild cheer. The nothingness – was almost upon them.
"Oh, Jesus, it's coming, it's coming –" Xander muttered and Spike gave him a tiny shake.
"Xander – just...close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes, pet." Xander stared – swallowed and shivered and did it and Spike smiled. He glanced over at Hook, who was climbing the stairs – taking up his wide-legged stance behind the wheel. He nodded once to Spike – turned his head a little and kissed Peter's cheek and then the blackness touched the top of the mast and the bowsprit and Spike closed his own eyes – pulled Xander in tight.
*Second on the right, straight on 'til morning....* Xander's lips were cold under his, and the end of it all came without a sound.
Hook's line - you know the one - is a direct quote from the book.
Anyway - snow! Ice! Cooooold temperatures! At least we're having some *winter* weather. And to hear the weathermen talk, it's like 'the end is nigh'!! People - please. We've had mild winters, but we haven't like - evolved past being able to survive them! Sheesh. It's just a little *snow*. And ice.
*rolls eyes*
Anyway - my undying and most sincere thank you to
reremouse for unflagging support and beta-work and for always telling me the truth. And to darkhavens, as well, for helping me over a little hump. And Snow!! You always cheer me on - and up. *smoooooch*Previous chapters are here.
One. More. To go. :)
Pan came down in the midst of them like a stooping hawk to the center of a flock of pigeons. Pirates and lost boys alike yelled, stumbling back. The fairies swarmed for a moment and then dispersed, lining the shrouds and rails all around. A blue one buzzed drunkenly into Spike and then settled on his shoulder.
"Feeling better, mate?" Spike asked, and Tinkerbell chimed softly at him.
"Hook! You coward. You wait until I'm gone – you attack when my boys are already hurt –!"
"Not your boys, Pan," Hook purred, and Peter checked, staring at him.
"Of course they're my boys! They're the lost boys, they'll always be –" Peter's voice choked off as two pirates shouldered through the crowd and flung Tootles' limp, blood-smeared body to the planking at his feet. Pan stared, open-mouthed, for a long, long moment. Hook watched him, eyes slitted like a cat's.
"Oh. Oh, it's... Tootles?" Peter crouched down, one hand going out. His fingertips lightly touched the torn flesh of Tootles' throat – the rivulets of still-wet blood and then he snatched his hand back, horror on his face. Eyes fixed on the bloom of scarlet across his skin.
"There's the last one loyal to you, Pan," Hook said. He crouched down as well, gaze on Peter's pale face, the skirts of his scarlet coat spreading out around him. "He's the only one who wouldn't swear loyalty to me – wouldn't swear to be a pirate."
"So you killed him..." Peter whispered. Hook nodded slowly. Peter wiped his fingers on the wet deck, hand shaking. He looked up at the other boys, his eyes wide. They stared back, still dazed from the drug – from what they had done.
Spike could hear them – the click and wheeze and rush of their lungs, the rabbit-fast thump thump of their hearts. The creak of the ship – the muted tinkling of the hundreds of fairies that looked on from aloft. The storm raged overhead, all but silent, the thunder like great, soft beats of a fan.
"Why would you – how could you betray me?" Pan whispered, and the boys swayed – shuffled. Shifted on their feet, looking down. "How?" Peter shouted, and Xander stumbled forward with a gasp.
"We tried to be loyal to you Peter but you hurt us. You get us killed and you leave us and you – you're all Joan Crawford with the 'no more wire hangers!'" Xander heaved in a sharp breath, glancing swiftly around at the other boys – at Spike. "You stole us! We never wanted to come here – we never wanted to leave home!"
"Of course you did! When I came for you, you were crying! You were sad, you were hurt! Slightly –"
"No!" Xander screamed, and Peter flinched back – everyone did. Spike felt Tink flinch into his neck with surprise. "My name's Xander! I'm Xander Harris and I'm from Sunnydale, California! I'm not the Slightly!"
Peter's eyes were wet – glinting with tears that finally spilled over, sudden streak of quicksilver in the tarnished-black air. He held his blood-streaked hand out and it...shook. "But –"
"And I'm not a lost boy anymore. I'm not a lost boy."
"Yes you are!" Peter whispered. He wiped furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand – took a step toward Xander, his hand still outstretched. "You're all –"
"No," John interrupted, hugging his arms tight around his thin ribs. "We – I'm not a lost boy, either."
"Neither am I," Michael said. He looked over at the twin, who shook his head slowly.
"I'm not either. I took a blood-oath, I'm a pirate now," the twin said, holding up his hand.
Peter shuddered and his own hand fell to his side – fell on the hilt of the dagger he had through his belt. "Curly? Surely you –"
"It's Danny," the boy said, lifting his chin. "And I'm n-not a lost boy anymore."
Pan just stared at him – stared at them all, his face smeared with tears and his chest heaving – shoulders shaking. He backed away from them as if they were menacing him and Spike felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
"Xander, get down!" Spike yelled and lightning clove the sky – the ship – nearly clove Curly. Everyone was in motion, Smee was screaming for buckets and then the storm came back. "Tink, get to Xander," Spike muttered, lifting the tiny body off his shoulder – lofting Tink gently up and out. Pan rose into the air in a whirl of smoke and a deafening crack of thunder and Spike launched himself up the stairs – up to the poop-deck rail and from there...leapt.
Peter's body was thin and hot and supple as a cat's. Twisty as a cat's, and Spike hung on grimly as Pan spun and writhed and kicked at him – tried to slash at him, but Spike had his own hand curled around the hilt of Peter's dagger, over Peter's hand. Crushing the slender fingers and Spike was not letting go. The boy shot upward, fast and furious, until the ship was a toy and the clouds were closing around them, cold and black and stitched with lightening. The thunder was physical, reverberating through Spike's bones.
"They've given up on you, Pan!" Spike shouted. He locked his arm tighter around Pan's chest – dug his elbow into the thin, heaving ribs and jammed his chin down onto Pan's shoulder, the pale-golden sweep of Pan's throat under his cheek. "They're gone. Loyal to Hook and no other!" Spike felt them dip in the air – felt Pan's body shudder. His free hand was clawing at Spike's arm – slipping on the leather of Spike's coat.
"They sealed the oath with their blood, Pan! They don't want to play anymore." Spike felt Peter's hand go lax under his at that – felt their upward momentum slow and then stop and they hung in the air. Hung in a furling veil of grey, the thunder gone silent and the lightning hopscotching in tiny, hissing crackles. Nothing like it was before. Nothing at all.
"But...why?" Peter whispered. His head hung a little to the side – his clawing hand dropped down from Spike's arm and hung, motionless. "Is it a...game?"
"No game," Spike murmured. He pressed Peter closer to him, the heated whipcord of the boy's body gone boneless now. No fight left. "They're deadly earnest. They've grown up, and they want to go home." Spike closed his eyes for a moment as they dipped lower, easing free of the clouds – sinking slowly back down to the ship. He took a long breath, shivering a little. Pan's scent was the same as any boy – cake and blood, salt and earth. But something else was there – some low, musky undertone that murmured of dim forests and hidden grottos – of time and knowledge and age that lay – so heavy. "You have to let them go, Peter," he said, watching. Watching as Peter's gaze roved distractedly to and fro, seeing nothing.
"But I need them. There's always...always lost boys. It...says so. In the book. It says..."
"Shhh...." Spike opened his mouth – rested it for a moment on the sweet-salt skin of Pan's throat and then carefully, delicately, bit. Peter didn't move – didn't make a sound – and Spike drank. One long mouthful that was like wine and pure oxygen and honey – like sunlight and dew. With a sigh, Peter closed his own eyes, and they slipped down and down until Spike's boots touched the deck of the Jolly Roger.
Touched down in the midst of the boys, the pirates, the fairies. The storm was silent now – the clouds still streaming overhead, the sea still rushing up the beach. But all muted – all washing to shades of charcoal and ash and shadow. Only Hook's coat stood out, crimson slash upon the air. As Spike let his arms loosen – prepared to let Peter slide to the deck – Hook stepped forward, cutlass raised, and drove it through Peter's heart.
"Proud and insolent youth," Hook gasped, white as salt and breathless, his bottle-blue eyes wide. "Prepare to meet thy doom."
An inarticulate groan was wrenched out of Peter's mouth and Hook jerked his sword free, staring at the blood-stained tip. "Oh, please," Peter whispered, sagging, and Spike tugged Pan's head over gently, laying the golden head on his shoulder.
"No worries, boy. Won't hurt now."
"Stop! What – what are you doing?" Xander pushed his way past pirates and boys alike – did a funny little catch-step over Tootles' outflung arm.
"Killing Pan, Xander – what we said." Spike watched Xander's gaze go from Pan to Hook and back to Pan – to Spike, furious and horrified. Tink was on Xander's shoulder, tangled in the draggled locks.
"But – you can't –"
"It's the deal, Xander. I kill Pan – Hook gets us home. Want to go home, don't you?" Peter was limp – nearly unconscious – and Spike hitched him up a little bit. "I'm bloody well getting out of here, and I don't give a fuck who I have to kill to do it."
Xander looked like he wanted to say something else, to stop Spike, but Hook interrupted. He dropped his cutlass to the deck and slipped his coat off, holding it up. "Sir – Spike. Give me the boy, will you? Give him to me."
Spike frowned at Hook, not wanting to give up any advantage. Hook nodded, lifting his coat encouragingly – looking up and around with a lift of his eyebrow and Spike did the same. Everything was going...still. The waves were rippling into smoothness – the clouds flattening out, smoothing like sand on a beach. And the horizon...
*Getting closer. Bloody hell, what does that mean? It's... Fuck. It's going away.* "Yeah, I – yeah, alright." Spike shuffled Pan a step or two toward Hook and Hook met him, wrapping his coat around the slim shoulders and lifting the boy in his arms. Standing there, his hair slick with rain and pushed back – his white shirt a-gleam in the dimness, Hook looked very like...
*Looks like any man. Any man holding his son...*
Hook held Peter close to him, the wound of Pan's chest pressed to Hook's own heart – the costume of ragged leaves covered by the thick velvet of the coat. Peter's head was on Hook's shoulder and his hand curled loosely at Hook's neck, his eyes half-shut, his mouth a little open, showing the tiny, pearly teeth.
"You cheated...Hook, you cheated..."
"Shh now," Hook whispered, smoothing his hand down and down Pan's back. He looked up at Spike, his eyes fierce and glinting and somehow...not so tired. "It's going, vampire. All of it. The Great God Pan is dead and with him dies everything and everyone."
"Then tell me how in hell to get back home!" Spike snapped, and he felt Xander move up beside him – the other boys all around, Curly leaning on Michael and John still huddled, hugging himself.
"Spike –"
"Don't you know, vampire? When Pan dies – so does Neverland. And when Neverland dies....we all go home. Isn't that where you go, when you're hungry and cold..." Hook lifted his hand and stroked Peter's hair back from his forehead – rested his thin cheek there for a moment. "When you're so, so tired..."
"Tired," Peter whispered, and Hook closed his eyes for a moment.
"I know, my little man, I know. We're going to rest now. We're all going to rest and have lovely, happy dreams."
Peter's eyes opened a little wider and he seemed to struggle for a moment. Spike could smell his blood, thick and warm – could imagine that the breast of Hook's shirt must be scarlet with it. Hook shushed him again, stroking his back.
"No, no. Don't fret, boy. I know about your dreams. I know that you cry. You won't cry anymore, my boy."
"Your boy," Peter murmured, and his eyes fluttered closed. Hook looked up – looked around, his eyes darting from pirate to pirate and boy to boy – lingering last on Spike.
"It's over, you dogs – you mad hellions! It's over and now we go to our reward. Down to perdition or up to paradise – or to Davy Jones, to serve out our sentence... The finest pack of brigands on the Seven Seas!"
"Hook!" the pirates shouted, fists raised – eyes wet. "Hook, Hook, Hook!"
"Roxy – I have to get Roxy –" The twin – Tony – bolted for the hatch below and Michael gathered John close to him – looked at Spike with frightened eyes.
"Is it true? Are we going home?"
"I don't have a sodding clue, mate," Spike growled. He looked anxiously at the horizon and it was much, much closer – and moving fast. A boiling mass of darkness and all of Neverland was unweaving itself into it. As he stared, the furthest beach-head twisted and whirled and siphoned away, streaming up and out and gone into a void even his demon's eyes couldn't penetrate.
Xander was standing there staring with him, thin shoulders hunched and his hair curling damply over his neck. Spike reached out and pulled him close, face to face. Put his hands flat on Xander's shoulder-blades, feeling the thrum of Xander's heart through his palms. Tinkerbell disentangled himself from Xander's hair and fluttered upward, his glow flickering madly.
"I just – fuck, I want to be home, Spike. Anywhere but here, you know?"
"Yeah, me too," Spike said. He watched over Xander's shoulder as the nothingness advanced – as the clouds raveled away and the sea drained into the air – as the mermaids arrowed through the water away from it, but it was on all sides now, and there was no escaping it.
"No, I mean...it's a game we used to...we'd say 'anywhere but here' and then...then tell where we wanted to be most." Xander shivered, his breath getting a little shorter – his eyes flickering here and there, wide and scared.
"Yeah? Sounds like fun. Here – Xander?"
"Oh, god, it's really – really moving fast –" Xander was shaking now – looking around a little wildly and Spike caught Xander's face in his hands – made him still. Made him look at Spike, and nowhere else.
"We'll be fine, yeah? Hook...he knows what he's talking about. We'll be fine."
"We will?"
"We will."
"Dust! Fairy dust!" Hook was looking up at the fairies – lifting his hand for a moment from Peter's back. "Give us your magic – lift us up! Don't let the Roger meet her fate shackled to the earth!"
Above them the fairies stirred – lifted – began to flit madly to and fro, skeins of sparkling dust sifting down fine as flour over the ship. And, impossibly – she rose. Righted herself and floated up and turned, the sails belling in an un-felt breeze. She seemed to pause a moment – to gather herself – and then she plunged forward into the air, and the crew let out a wild cheer. The nothingness – was almost upon them.
"Oh, Jesus, it's coming, it's coming –" Xander muttered and Spike gave him a tiny shake.
"Xander – just...close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes, pet." Xander stared – swallowed and shivered and did it and Spike smiled. He glanced over at Hook, who was climbing the stairs – taking up his wide-legged stance behind the wheel. He nodded once to Spike – turned his head a little and kissed Peter's cheek and then the blackness touched the top of the mast and the bowsprit and Spike closed his own eyes – pulled Xander in tight.
*Second on the right, straight on 'til morning....* Xander's lips were cold under his, and the end of it all came without a sound.
Hook's line - you know the one - is a direct quote from the book.
no subject
:)