Chapter 9

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Pan's POV

We get home at around 11:00 pm. I feel amazing, because Erin and I finally said those three words that everyone wants to hear, and that my memories might be coming back within a matter of hours. I'm so ecstatic that I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Actually I fall asleep almost instantly when I lay down in the bed in the guest room that I've finally become accustomed to.

In my dreams I remember everything; trading my son for eternal youth, recruiting boys who feel like they're alone in the world as an army, and most of importantly, my son returning to Neverland to curse me and dropping me into the middle of a world without magic.

My eyes snap open and I whisper to myself, "Nice try, son, but you'll have to take more than my memories to defeat me."

I change back into the clothes I came here in and throw what I had been wearing on the bed in disgust. I get my dagger and attach it to my belt, along with my pipe. I take the bottle of pixie dust and loop a chain through it and fix it around my neck. Much to my delight, it is glowing brightly, meaning I can use it whenever I'm ready.

Now all I have to do is take care of Erin. I think bitterly of the words we exchanged earlier. I most certainly do not love her. It was the clueless idiot I was without my memories or powers who loved her. I have to get rid of her.

I sneak up the stairs and enter Erin's room. Her door is wide open and she is fast asleep.

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Erin's POV

I wake up suddenly. It seems unnaturally dark. I raise my hands to lower the blanket from my face, but it's not a blanket, it's a blindfold.

I make to remove it and before I can, someone grabs my arms and binds them together, quickly and efficiently. I open my mouth to scream, only to be cut off by getting something large and foul tasting in my mouth, muffling any sound I could have made.

I struggle against my unknown assailant but he's taken away my sight and he moves silently, so I have no clue where to aim. I try in vain to kick him. My attempts end in getting my only available limbs tied together. He, definitely not she, has successfully cut off all my means of trying to escape.

I give up on struggling, I know all it will do is drain my energy. I just lay limp in defeat on my bed. I hope desperately that Peter swoops in and saves me. Then a horrible thought crosses my mind: what if this skilled attacker already took down Peter? What if he's in the same position I am.

It doesn't even cross my mind that the attacker might even be Peter until the person speaks up.

"I don't think any of your story books ever described Peter Pan as a villain now, did they?" he whispers. It sure sounds like Peter, accent and all. But that's impossible because the voice sounds comepletely demonic, every syllable laced with evil.

He scoops me off of the bed with ease and I tense up in his arms.

"Relax," he says, "I won't kill you. Not yet, at least."

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Hook's POV

When Pan approaches me at the docks, I make two observations. The first being that he most definitely has his memories back. The evil glint in back in his eyes and he is looking at me in disgust. The second being that the girl is still alive. She's incapacitated and seemingly asleep, but she's alive.

"We meet again, Killian," he addresses me by my given name, "I must say that it's rather shameful that I depended on you to return my memories, but I'm glad you sought me out to do so."

"Yes, and even though I can't stand you, it's good to have you back, Pan. But I thought the girl would be dead by now," I lift my hook towards the girl's unconcious form.

His jaw tightens and his eyes darken, "The thing about killing people, Killian, is that is is much funner with an audience."

"Well, then, why don't you come aboard the Jolly Rodger?" I say, changing the subject.

He nods and I feel for the invisible stairs leading up to my ship. I hit wood and climb up them, Pan on my tail. If someone told me that I'd be letting Peter Pan willingly on to my ship, I would have laughed in their face.

"You can put the lass in my cabin, I suppose," I tell him.

"Aye aye, captain," he sneers, but he does as I told him.

When he emerges again I ask him, "Do you think the Dark One is still in Neverland."

"Well," he says, "if my calculations are correct, and they are, then barely a day has passed in Neverland since I've been gone. I would guess that he hasn't left yet."

"Then we'll set sail to Neverland."

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