Being lost is okay

Meeting Neal (9)

"You don't want to join the celebration?" Pan walked over to Henry and Stiles.

"Nothing to celebrate," Henry said flatly.

"Nothing to celebrate?" Pan exclaimed, shocked by Henry's sentence.

"That's what he said," Stiles mumbled to the ground, making Pan chuckle.

"Henry, this whole party is to celebrate you," Pan smiled, pointing at Henry.

"Me? Why?" Henry looked up, squinting up towards Pan.

"Because you have come to save magic, of course," Pan smiled even more. "And I, for one, can't think of a reason more deserving of celebration than that. Just look at them." The trio looked over to the dancing lost boys.

"Stiles and I aren't like them or you," Henry said.

"Sure you are," Pan argued. "You both are still boys."

"Why am I here?" Stiles repeated. "You said Henry's going to save magic. What am I doing here?"

"You shall see." Pan smiled. "Maybe a song will get you both on your feet!" Pan started to blow air into the pipe-like instrument.

"Sorry, I can't hear anything." Henry shook his head.

"Interesting," Pan said, tilting his head to one side. "You see, this pipe's enchanted. It can only be heard by certain children."

"Like who?" Henry asked but Pan got distracted by Felix returning to camp, clearly upset.

"You'll find out soon enough," Pan smiled, getting up. "Promise." He left with a wink.

"What?" Pan stalked towards Felix. "I know that look. What happened?"

"Baelfire," Felix stated, spitting out the name. "I'm afraid, he got away."

"Well, then why didn't you get him back?" Pan growled.

"I tried," Felix defended himself. "I followed his trail and found two of our sentries knocked out by a sleeping spell.

"The dark one," Pan stated gravely. "So, father and son have been reunited."

"They'll be coming for them," Felix motioned to Henry and a silent Stiles. "We should move them somewhere safe."

"Now, now, Felix," Pan sweetly smiled. "Where's your sense of adventure? We can't end the party when the real fun is about to begin."

"So, you couldn't hear it?" Stiles spoke up, still sitting infront of Henry.

"Hear what?" Henry asked.

"The instrument. The one Pan played. You couldn't hear it?" Stiles questioned.

"No," Henry shook his head. "Could you?"

"Yeah," Stiles whispered, not looking up from the ground. "Yeah, I could."

The Lost Boys danced and sang for hours. The constant ruckus made Stiles head spin. One moment there were screams of excitement, the next, absolute silence. Stiles looked next to him to see an unconscious Henry. Quickly looking up, Stiles realized everyone in the camp was also unconscious, everyone except him and Pan.

"We have a guest, Mischief!" Pan walked across the camp to Stiles. He pushed himself off the tree branch, scanning for an answer. "No doubt someone who knows how much I like guessing games. Who could it be? I guess..." Pan waved his hand and a torch lit up, revealing a man Stiles recognized.

"Mr. Gold?" Stiles asked.

"The dark one," Pan lifted a finger towards Stiles, almost mockingly correcting him.

"Come to save Henry and Mischief, have you, Laddie?" Pan smirked, humor dancing across his face. "How exciting. The dark one ready to sacrifice his life for his family. Speaking of family..." Pan moved his hand again, lighting up another torch. "You can come out now, Baelfire."

"Name's Neal, now." A man with a crossbow said.

"New name but the same old tricks," Pan's smile never faltered. "It's heartwarming to see father and son working together, especially after you abandoned him, Rumple. This is a real family reunion."

"What are you waiting for?" Mr. Gold or the dark one asked.

"I got this," Neal whispered. His finger hovered over the trigger. As soon as he was about to pull it, he moved his aim towards Stiles and shot. The arrow flew towards Stiles but before it could hit him, Pan caught it.

"Clever," Stiles feet stumbled back, breathing heavily. "but we've been through this before, Baelfire." Pan let go of the arrow but to Stiles, Pan seemed to struggle. "Have you remembered nothing?"

"I remember plenty," Neal said, putting down the crossbow. "That's why I didn't coat the tip." Pan collapsed.

"Grab them," 'the dark one' ordered 'Neal'.

"Stiles-"

"Nope!" Stiles scrambled back away from them. "No. Not happening. How the hell do you know who I am?"

"That's not important," Neal said. "We need to go. Now."

"Well, how about that?" Pan was sprawled on the floor, unmoving. "I'm impressed. But are you sure you're really saving them, Bae?"

"What can be worse than leaving them with you?" Neal challenged.

"This is insane," Stiles shook his head, taking more steps away from them. He quickly looked behind him to see the forest. He could try and sprint. But he would be running in an unknown deadly forest.

"Why don't you ask your father?" Pan's voice brought Stiles to reality. "Sometimes the people we should fear the most are the ones closest to us."

"What's he talking about?" Neal stuttered but was quickly interrupted by Mr. Gold.

"Don't listen to him," Mr. Gold ordered.

"You mean you haven't told him?" Pan's grin grew.

"Told me what?" Neal asked, walking towards an unconscious Henry. Picking him up, Neal turned back towards Mr. Gold.

"I am so confused." Stiles mumbled, trying to calm himself in order to think properly. He needed to get Henry from Neal.

"Why about the prophecy, of course," Pan announced, that stupid eyebrow quirked.

"What prophecy? What does he mean?" Neal turned to Mr. Gold.

"The prophecy that says you've been tricked," Pan answered, looking at Neal. "Your father isn't here to rescue your son and Mischief. He's here to murder them."

Stiles quickly turned away to run into the forest.

"Stiles-"

"No! Give me Henry!" Stiles took a step towards Neal.

"You need to come with us," Neal said, eyeing Pan who remained on the floor.

"Oh, yeah, just for a quick walk in the forest with two strangers, who, according to Pan, will kill me! Yeah, I'm gonna have to pass," Stiles ranted.

"You trust Pan?" Neal took a step towards Stiles.

"No!" Stiles yelled. "But I sure as hell don't trust you!"

"Stiles, remember our deal?" Mr. Gold asked. "You owe me."

"Great job, Stiles, you made a deal with your murderer!" Stiles mumbled to himself.

"We don't have time for this," Mr. Gold taking confident strides towards Stiles. "Sorry for the headache."

"What?" Mr. Gold moved his hand in the air and before Stiles could do anything, unconscious swept over him.

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