"Time to wake up!" a voice chirps close to my ear. I groan and pull the blanket over my head. Nope.

"Time for school!" Yet another one. Leave me alone! I turn away.

"Up, up, up!" Hands drag me across the bed.

"No, go 'way. Lemme sleep!" But the owners of the tiny hands don't listen. "Gah, I'm up, I'm up," I groan, swaying on my feet. Rubbing my eyes, I stumble towards the door, trying not to trip over Tiger Lily's siblings on the way.

"Morning, sunshine," Lily says, not bothering to look up from the newspaper while she drinks her coffee. She's got a plate of waffles in front of her that have already seen the inside of the toaster. I reach over the heads of the crow-headed children and grab the last of the cinnamon toast-shaped waffles.

Protests follow. Even some of the bigger boys attempt to tackle me. They land on their asses before they get very far. After settling on the couch, one of Lily's middle siblings - though I can never tell, cause most of them look the same, just different heights - named Sean, sits down next to me, giving me this pathetic look. Rolling my eyes, I rip one of the mini-toast pieces off my waffle and hand it to him.

The television has nothing useful to say at all. Heat wave this, spring pollen that, traffic jam whatsit. "Nothing's ever interesting on the news!" I shout in the direction of the kitchen. It could be good or bad, depending, but it makes me feel all around uninformed.

Tiger Lily leans into the living room and says, "Get dressed. We have to go in a few." With a labored sigh, I trudge past her and back into our shared room.

Today is a painter-pants and muscle-shirt day. I half-heartedly brush my hair before smearing on eyeliner. Might as well look the part. Give the grade school kiddies something for their parents to fear.

Lily and I walk her brothers to school in the mornings. It began as a way to get me out of her house, get my mind off of neurotically waiting for the phone to ring so I could hear my test results. But for all of the apathy Lily and I have for each other, I've got a soft spot for her siblings. So I still walk them to school.

"Hey, do you think a tattoo would be too painful on my shoulder?" I ask Lily when I enter the living room, hopping sideways while tying the laces on my boots.

"What would you get?"

Good question. "I dunno. Remind me to ask again when I've figured that part out." I watch the roiling children assemble their backpacks and shoes. "Everybody ready?" I call out, opening the front door.

Lily counts them, and we set off for the elementary school. After some of them leave the group and go inside the school - "Midgets," hisses one of Lily's more obnoxious brothers - we continue our stroll to the middle school and junior high complex. I light a cigarette outside and smile at the teachers watching the street.

The high school the oldest boys go to used to be mine, before Neverland. I stop on the sidewalk of the front courtyard and wave at the boys. "Bye, Wendy! I'll miss you, oh light of my life!" Taylor shouts at me, bowing and scraping as he backs further into the crowd. I roll my eyes and salute with my cig.

"I think he's got a crush on you," Lily says as I inhale smoke. I shake my head, turning to go.

"Oh my God. Wendy? Wendy Darling?" That voice is familiar. And she knows my name. I turn to face a petite brunette. "It is you. We've all been so worried!"

I frown. Victoria, a friend of mine from before. "Don't need to be worried. I'm just fine." A shrug and a drag, turning to catch Tiger Lily's eye.

"I would hardly count this as fine!" Victoria says, hands on her hips. "Purple hair, smoking. You look almost emaciated. Look, you should tell your parents." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a cell phone. "Here, we can call them--"

"No," I hiss, grabbing the hand with the cell phone. "We're not calling them." She watches me, eyes wide and frightened.

"Wendy, let's go," Lily whispers, tugging on my shoulder. I let go of Victoria and follow Lily down the street.

I light another cigarette and sulk as we walk back to her place.

After a bit of silence, Lily asks lightly, "So I guess you won't be walking the boys to school anymore?"

The thought's depressing - I like her brothers, whatever faults Lily herself has, and she isn't so bad sometimes. But I won't go back. It doesn't matter how bad it gets between me and Peter. I've got my family here, in the Boys, and in the Vigils. "No, I won't." I won't go back.

One of the older boys answers the door when the bell rings. The rest of the Redcrow clan watches wrestling while I do Sean's math homework for him. If Lily was here, she'd yell at me for it. "Uh, Wendy, it's for you."

I stand up and warily approach the door. "John!" I smile, trying to resist the urge to hug him. "How's it going?"

He doesn't answer until I've walked outside and shut the door. "I've been OK." A spot on his cheekbone looks a little yellow-green still, but otherwise I wouldn't be able to tell about everything that happened with Peter. The smile on my face is awkward at best. He sighs heavily and drags me into a hug. "But I've been better," he admits while I pat him on the back.

"He hasn't done anything to you or Michael, has he?" I ask. It's to the point that I want Peter to do something just so I can go see the Lost Boys for a minute. No offense to Tiger Lily, but it's been a little on the boring side.

"No, he hasn't." John pulls away and says, "We all really miss you, Wendy. I wish you'd come back. Maybe," he grabs my hand, "maybe if you just talked to him--"

"John, I will not apologize to him for anything I did." He deserves everything I did. "'Sides, I don't think I'm ready yet." With a sigh, I add, "But I miss you guys too. I'm glad you came to see me."

"Wendy!" I turn to the door as it slams open. "Wendy! Lily called. She said to come in and watch the news. Now." Taylor grabs my arm and drags me into the apartment. I wave John in after me.

When the correct channel appears, all the Redcrow children go completely silent. The announcer says something about the war on street crime. It's breaking news, though. A video feed appears, showing Pirates escorting a handful of kids out of a building. Some of them look familiar…

"Sir Henry," I whisper, watching Pirates manhandle the Vigil leader.

"Oh, God, the Vigils," John says, looking at me, but my eyes are locked on the TV.

Hook. "This has been a victory in our quest to take back the streets. We are closing in on our ultimate goal." Again, the clip of Sir Henry and a handful of Vigils appears. Henry looks furious. I know I'll have to go see him as soon as I possibly can.

I grab a jacket and my cigs. Time to see what's left of the Vigils. "Listen," I say to the Redcrows. "When Lily gets home, tell her I'll be back later. Make sure all of you are here when she gets back, or I will personally cut off your ears."

"Going to see the Vigils?" John asks after we go outside.

"Yeah. The place they were arrested, that wasn't a Vigil place. The rest of them should still be safe." I turn to look at him. "You going with?"

"No. I probably should get back." He puts a hand on the back of my neck, pulling me forward so our foreheads touch. "But come visit, OK?" He smiles, though I can barely see it from so close. "Metal misses you too." I smile back and he takes a step away.

"Tell Tiger Lily, OK?" I ask. John nods and walks away. The Vigils are in the opposite direction.

The whole thing doesn't make sense. Sir Henry is the most careful person I know. As far as I know, he doesn't even have any dealings with cops. Not even selling drugs to them, like the Lost Boys have. It's awfully odd that he would be picked up by Hook who, also as far as I know, only has the attention span to hate Peter.

I knock on the Vigils' door and wait. I hear them whispering, trying to decide if Pirates would be knocking instead of just beating down the door. A little kid, probably only as tall as my waist, sticks his head out of the door and gives me a shrewd once-over. If I'm not mistaken, his name is T. "Talk to Spots. Inside." Following him in, I nod at the other Vigils. They're anxious and uncertain and afraid. It breaks my heart.

I walk through the entryway, into the back hallways. Spots sits in the back room, propped up in Sir Henry's armchair throne, surrounded by two Vigils. They are the Vigil high council. "Wendy," Spots says and holds out his arm. We grab each other's wrists before I back away to stand before him. "So you know what happened."

Glancing at Quest and Jag, who watch with the same guarded looks, I reply, "I saw Sir Henry arrested on TV. I don't know anything else. I came straight here." It makes me almost sick to think of Sir Henry in jail.

"We've been talking about what we should do," Quest says, looking pointedly at the ceiling, away from me. Which means more than talking has occurred.

"I think we should elect Spots leader and start from there," Jag interrupts, leaning forward to address the other Vigils.

"And I think we should talk to Peter. He could at least give us a little advice and protection from Pirates," Quest says, rising to his feet in agitation.

Spots gives me an exasperated look. I feel sorry for him, if this is what's been happening for the last couple hours. "Guys!" I shout, interrupting the argument that's erupted around me. "What does Sir Henry have for a backup plan? Any of you know?" Reluctant, the quarreling parties shake their heads. "Then how about we ask him? Odds are he'll have some thoughts on what's to be done. He might even know whether it'll be a few days or longer before he's back."

Quest considers this. He's thinking about what I did to Peter, or at least the version that's been circulating in gossip circles. Jag looks at Spots. "You're right. Sir Henry's not dead. He's just not here right now," Quest finally answers. "We should ask him."

"If we ask him now, they'll be suspicious. We should at least wait till tomorrow morning," Spots says. He looks at me. "Would you mind talking to Henry? Hook may not like you, but you're less likely to be arrested. You're too smart for that."

"Is that OK?" I ask. Jag nods. Quest shrugs. "Yeah, I'll talk to Sir Henry. I'm going to ask that all three of you come with me, wait near the police station, OK? I won't lie to you about what Henry says. I'll even get it a written copy. I swear as I am Wendy."

They nod and shake my hand, even reluctant Quest.

"I trust you," Jag says softly, "more than Peter. But don't tell anyone, or I'll break your face." I smirk at him, pleased, as he follows Quest out of the room.

Spots slumps back into the armchair. Maybe out of all the kids, he's the only one who understands just how dangerous this all is. "So. Is it that you're worried about Sir Henry or are you worried now about the Vigils? Or maybe all the power falling into your hands is a little scary?" As I speak, I walk over to his chair and perch on the arm his leg isn't thrown over. "Penny for your thoughts."

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "A little of all of it. If something good doesn't happen, the Vigils will scatter. A lot of them will go to the Boys." A pointed glance from him raises a shadow of a smile on my face. Then he frowns again. "I came to the Vigils after you punched me at the pool, 'cause I wanted to get you back so bad."

I blink, surprised. I'd never known. "What changed your mind? Or is your revenge yet to be revealed?" I ask gently.

"I saw you fight, help out kids who weren't the Boys. And here you are," he says, grabbing one of my hands, "helping me sort out my family."

Poor kid. He wouldn't even be here if I hadn't decided to teach him a lesson that day. Course, he did almost drown me. But such is life. "Look, I've got to go for a little while. Plan. But I'll be back tomorrow morning for you and the others." Before I slide off the chair, I turn and look at him. He looks so lost. Forlorn, that's a good word for it. With a little bit of a smile, I lean over and kiss the top of his head. "Everything will be OK."

Almost to the door, I stop when Spots says, "The last time you kissed me, my entire life changed."

Smiling, I reply, "I think this time will hopefully be for the better."

What to do. The Vigils are my second family after the Lost Boys. Though I'm not sure they count. Now that I'm not on Peter's good side, the Boys have been hesitant to talk to me, just in case Peter decides to get cranky about it. John's the first one who's really talked to me since the night of the party.

"You know, you're better at running away than avoiding being followed," says an English voice behind me. "But you were always good at disappearing when you didn't want--"

"Have you got a point, Jack?" I lean back from studying the pavement four floors below me in order to look at him. I'm rather thrilled he's speaking to me, but I push it down.

"Yeah. The Lost Boys want you back."

I pause in the middle of lighting my cigarette. I remember to talk after a moment. "And they sent you to ask me back?"

"Well, Peter did." Jack sits next to me, pulling out a cig and holding his hand out for my lighter, which I drop onto his palm. "After he asked Romeo, who didn't fancy coming back in pieces. Then he asked Metal who refused and said you were better off. Then he asked Cowboy, who continued snoring, and then he asked me. He might've asked the Twins, 'cept they've taken to hanging bat-like from the support beams. On the off-chance it's a vampire thing, no one disturbs them." Jack blows smoke at me. "At any rate, I had nothing better to do."

"Careful, I might feel important," I mutter, though I'm more amused than bitter. "But John already told me how everybody wants me back. I already told him I'm not apologizing to Peter."

Jack smiles, eyes nearly invisible in the dark, and places my lighter between us on the roof. "He don't want your apology, luv. He, same as the rest of 'em, misses you and wants you to come back." He snorts. "In fact, he nearly wrote a sonnet in your honor - and a very lovely one - when he told me to tell you he missed you. Course, I think it's all a waste, but it comes down to how you're his special girl, and he feels lost without you."

"I see." I'm not sure if I believe him, but wouldn't it be lovely if Peter did miss me so much. At least he's not pretending I don't exist, at any rate. "I don't know--"

"You're worried about the Vigils," Jack says. I nod, narrowing my eyes, and flick ash out onto the air. "They're at quite a spot now, I know. And whether you think he does or not, Peter knows too. In fact, he's got some inside Pirate contact reporting to him the instant Sir Henry's situation changes."

"He does?" Hm. I knew about the one Pirate who bought smack from Cowboy, but I guess this is someone different. "Guess I could go see Peter," I say, staring at the butt of my cigarette, "as long as I don't have to apologize or anything."

"Certainly not," Jack says. "Especially not with everyone clamoring for you to return."

Sidling closer to Jack, I bat my eyes, even though he can't see it too well in the dark, and say, "Do you want me to come back, dear?"

Jack sighs and pushes me away. I grin and punch him in the shoulder. "Clever girl," he murmurs.

I stand to face him. "You know Peter says one girl's smarter than ten boys." Even if I take Jack's evasion as higher praise than any of Peter's sugared compliments, I'm aware it's a sign of goodwill to even speak of Peter in calm, reasonable tones.

Jack stands up as well and smiles in return. As he passes me, he says, "See you tomorrow, bitch?"

"Count on it," I say.

His hand catches and releases mine.

After he leaves the roof, I curl up against the outer ledge we'd been sitting on to wait for morning. I'm still left with the same problem as before. How to handle this disaster with the Vigils. Now I also get to wonder what to do about the Lost Boys.

After having seen both John and Jack within a few hours, I'm missing the Boys I haven't seen. Michael, Cowboy, Tank, the Twins, Metal. Like a little ache deep in my throat that doesn't go away. But as far as I know, they're safe and happy.

The Vigils are neither of those things. It seriously worries me. Plus, the Vigils never shunned me after I broke with Peter. I've seen as much of Sir Henry as I have Tiger Lily. So I'll go early tomorrow to see him, and once I've delivered the message, done anything else that needs doing, I'll see Peter.

A knock on the Vigil's front door brings T outside on the stoop. Staring at his feet - or maybe my feet, he's awfully short - T says, "Spots and the rest say to tell you sorry, they can't go today."

If there's anything I hate more than surprises, it's surprises when my nerves are so frayed I can't stand still. "Is it very important?" I ask after ruling out dismemberment as an effective plan. T nods solemnly. "Are there any Vigils awake who don't have anything to do?" T darts inside as I yell, "I only need a couple!"

When they file back out, there are five, including T. Funny. 'A couple' always meant two, possible three at the most, or so I thought. "You're going to see Sir Henry?" C.B., the round baby-faced one, asks.

"I am." I tap my foot, hoping the message of haste and my own irritation gets through to them.

"Then we'll go with you," T says with firm nods from his fellows.

Oh, what the hell. "All right. Trail. Watch for Pirates. None of you are coming in with me."

Adder smirks at me, his mouth twisted with pride and smug assurance. "Honestly, Wendy. Don't you think we know? This ain't the Lost Boys." The other Vigils elbow him and shush him, but I'm smiling anyway. They don't need orders, not for this.

Once I start walking, my Vigil escort melts away. I've never been to the police station here before, but I know where it is. Everyone does. During shift change, you stay well clear and try not to attract attention.

I climb up the stone stairs and pause at the glass doors to calm myself. Then I fling them open like I own the place. Cops and clerks and criminals alike ignore me. Well then. Plucking a pen from a desk I pass on my way to the back and a chunk of Post-Its from another, I stuff my hands in my pockets. Now to figure out where the holding cells are around here.

"Well, well. Wendy, what are you doing here?" I turn to face the officer and try not to look guilty. But it's Smee. I let out my breath with a sigh.

"Looking for a friend you're holding here. He's got some stuff he needs me to do for his family."

"His family?" Smee echoes, pacing closer to me. Ew. Gross, man.

"Yeah. His brother asked me to come because he's busy dealing with everything else." Spots will be thrilled to know I called him Sir Henry's brother.

"And you know no one's allowed to see him but his parents or his legal counsel?" He grins.

Oh, great. What would Tiger Lily do. She knows how to handle guys like this. Think, think.

Sparing a quick glance to make sure no one's near enough to hear, I trail a hand from my throat down to my leg, quick enough that it barely even qualifies for a suggestive motion. "How about you just say I'm a legal aide," I purr, moving past him but brushing his arm as I do, "and we call it even."

Smee hurries to show me the way to Sir Henry, and I pretend I'm Tiger Lily, imitating her saunter. By the time I've climbed a flight of steps and walked down three hallways, I feel assured that he'll be too busy finding a quiet corner to worry about what I say to Sir Henry.

I open the door and face the cot where Sir Henry's been reclining. He sees me and rushes over, giving me a massive hug. "Oh, Wendy. What--"

"I'm here to take your orders for the Vigils. Also, find out what happened, since we should have time," I say with a smirk, thinking about my otherwise occupied Pirate escort. "So start at the beginning."

He motions for me to sit down. I've never seen him look so serious, an effect sharpened by the bruises in various stages of blackening across his face. "How'd you know?"

"It was on the news. I went to see the Vigils. Spots, Jag, and Quest were arguing about what to do, so they agreed to send me in to get your will of sorts." I hold out the pen and Post-Its. "Just in case. And here I am."

Henry nods and says, "Wendy, I need your help. Peter cannot get a hold on the Vigils." He grabs my hand and squeezes it. "No matter what. I need you to make sure he doesn't touch them."

Searching his face, I see that his anxiety extends beyond wanting to keep control of his crew. "What happened?"

"I went to meet with Peter. We were talking about changing business around." Henry presses his hand to his face on the side that isn't bruised badly. "One of the Lost Boys - I think it was Jack - ran in and whispered something to Peter. He got up and ran for the door out. I figured it was Pirates, so we followed. The Lost Boys ran on, but Peter turned and hit me with - I don't really know. Maybe a chair. He knocked the others down. When we got up again, the outside door was blocked. Then Hook was there and arrested me for the murder of some kid I don't even know."

In the silence, I hear the wail of a siren and man's shout, clear and close.

Peter knew, when he sent Jack to me, that he'd betrayed a friend of mine. "And he thought he could get me back into the Lost Boys if he just convinced me before I talked to you. That bastard." Clenching my hands together so tightly they turn white at the joints, I hunch over to prevent myself from hitting the walls or anything else. How could he? I knew he couldn't possibly be so forgiving to me.

Sir Henry speaks close to my ear, putting a hand on my shoulder in the process. "Will you do something for me, Wendy? It means you'll be head to head with Peter a lot. Can you do that?"

Lifting a hand to hold his face near mine, I smile, cruel and cold, and whisper, "I will kill Peter for you. Ask me what you want."

"I want Spots to take care of the Vigils. He's ready and he's got more loyalty from them than Jag and Quest do. And I want you to take care of them too." Me? A leader of the Vigils? Pulling back I stare at him. No way. "They believe in you, Wendy. They trust Spots and they trust you. We've been afraid of Peter for too long, cause we've forgotten he can be fought. If we fight Peter, we know you'll avenge anyone he hurts. You'll teach them to be strong again."

"But I don't make good leadership decisions! I can barely keep track of myself." I wouldn't know what to tell a group of kids to do with their lives.

"Spots will take care of that. We've split that workload since he proved himself, with your recommendation of course." I wince. Spots's words about his reasons for joining the Vigils ring in my head. Sir Henry's face drains of his good humor, becoming serious once more. "Will you do it?

"Yes."

He hugs me and for a moment I can cling to him. "Listen. Don't go telling anyone about Peter's involvement. Not yet. If the Vigils are going to handle Peter, they need to be ready first. They need to be able to fight."

I smile. "But the Vigils are at least twice as many as the Boys. Most of them are good fighters, too."

"They're unsteady. Peter wouldn't have to use force. You know how persuasive he can be."

That is very true. But my time with Sir Henry is running out. "Here. Write it down, what you told me. I don't want them to think I made it up."

He scribbles down a sentence and a sprawling signature. "You got a knife with you?" I hand him my switchblade. He flicks it open, slices along his thumb, and presses his bloody finger to the paper.

"And that's it? Me and Spots keep Peter out of our business, and I don't tell anyone about Peter screwing you over?" I ask, closing the knife and jamming it into my pocket.

"Do what it takes to keep the Vigils safe. Unless there's some way you can trap Peter, just resist him. Act only if you can win." Henry smiles and kisses the top of my head. "Oh, for the days when all I tried to do was get you naked. Now I'm putting you in charge of an army."

I snort. "And somehow only you ended up naked," I drawl and tap him on the arm with his Post-It before it ends up in my pocket too. "How did that happen, I wonder?"

Smee opens the cell door suddenly. "You have to go now."

Henry holds tight to my hand when I try to get up. "And you promise."

"I swear as I am Wendy, I will do this for you." Henry kisses my hand, and I wink as Smee manhandles me out into the hallway. "Thanks darling," I say with genuine gratitude, despite of all the feel-copping and leering and, I'm sure, present or future jacking off. I kiss the Pirate on the cheek and dash off through the station.

Now I'm jazzed on adrenaline. How am I supposed to tell Spots? Hi, we're co-leaders of the Vigils, but you get to do all the work! Even though I've always been a Lost Boy, I get to run your gang! Yeah. I'm gonna get jumped.

My Vigil escort appears during the return journey. "Did you get to see him?"

"Yeah. I've got the instructions. Time to break up that terribly important meeting." T and C.B. grin at me. They've got the appetite for fighting.

Adder performs the secret knock and password combo that lets us in. As I walk to the back room, flanked by Vigils, I notice Cowboy standing outside the door. For a moment, I'm so furious I can barely see, hands clenched into fists so tight my short, ragged nails cut into my skin. I nod at Cowboy, coming back to my senses. But Peter's here, finishing what he started yesterday.

If I had my way, I'd kill him here.

Reaching out, I grasp the handles of the double doors and, finding them unlocked, fling them open with no small display of force. Spots, Jag, and Quest look startled as they sit across a table from Peter and Romeo. Romeo avoids looking at me, but Peter very slowly turns to face me. A smile blooms on his face, but I'm so furious my face is slack. No smile, no glare, no frown. Blank.

"You need to go," I say, walking closer to Peter and Romeo.

"Wendy! I wasn't expecting you till later. What a surprise!" Peter's smile doesn't change, but he must know I'm pissed off.

"I'll drop by later. You have to go."

"Can't we have a nice little talk here, all of--"

"No. Get out now, goddammit." And we stare at each other for a moment. He gets up and gestures for Romeo to do the same thing. Gesturing at the doors, I say, "After you."

Peter walks in front of me, tension evident in his shoulders. I close the doors behind him, but not before I get C.B.'s attention. When he looks at me, I jerk my head at Peter, and C.B. springs up and announces, "Peter, sir, let me show you out."

Shutting the doors firmly behind them, I turn to face the Vigils left behind. "I talked to Sir Henry, and he wrote down his leadership decision." I put the Post-It note down on the table for the boys to read.

"He signed it in blood, too," Jag says, nodding.

Quest looks angry. "Let me see your fingers," he demands of me. I hold out my hands. He flips them over to look at my fingertips and the nails. No slices, no traces of blood. And my thumbs are too small anyway. "Well, I'll be damned. Peter was right about you. Said you weren't good for us. Now you're taking positions away from the Vigils."

"Peter, said, huh? Do you know that Peter--" I snarl and turn away. "I didn't ask for this either. But I agreed to do it because it's what Sir Henry wanted. If the Vigils won't follow me and Spots, then we'll all follow Spots together, OK? I'm supposed to be more like a general anyway. I help you fight, and I do what Spots tells me to."

"Well, what do you think, Spots?" Quest asks.

After a brief pause, Spots says, "I want her to stay. Sir Henry's got his reasons, and he's still our real leader. I want you guys to stay with me, though. Help me do this." The boys nod. "I need to talk to Wendy. Alone, if you don't mind." He stands, scraping his chair against the floor. "Tell the Vigils, won't you?"

"We will, Spots," Jag promises and grabs Quest, who's still glaring at me, to drag him out the door.

After the door shuts again, I look at Spots, who's staring at the Post-It on the table. I hop onto the table. Poor thing. It's a lot of sudden responsibility, especially when I haven't been a Vigil, and he's having to defend me as well. I nudge him with my leg and say, "Spots."

"Sir Henry does have a reason for this, doesn't he?" Spots's voice is soft, almost inaudible.

"He picked me because I will stand up to Peter and keep the Vigils away from Peter. He knows I have no other management skills." I tilt my head to try to catch Spots's eye, but he's still staring at nothing. Stubborn. "You he picked because you're strong and smart. You'll keep the Vigils alive, and you can handle the business edge. And the Vigils love you."

"Wendy, you know I love you like a brother, but why would he name you as a leader when your job description is knight protector?" He finally looks at me.

Stung by his tone, I turn my face away. Just because I am what he says doesn't mean all tact should fly out the window. "I think it's to give me leverage against Peter. Instead of being some street kid with an attitude, I'm a gang leader who could pose a physical and professional threat."

"And what's this about Peter, anyway?" Spots asks while he fiddles with Sir Henry's orders. "He could really help us get back on our feet."

Fixing him with a solid stare, I say in return, "If I tell you what I know, you cannot tell a single other person about this. In fact, you can't even talk to me about it afterwards." Spots nods. OK, I think I can tell him. Sir Henry would want him on the same page. "Peter," I whisper, leaning close to him, "betrayed Sir Henry and the others. It's why they were caught. So now he's trying to take over." I quickly bring up the finer points of Sir Henry's explanation so Spots knows the full story.

Spots looks blank for a moment, eyes wide. He shuts his eyes, and a tremor passes through him, making all the tendons in his body cord out. "With the Vigils, he'd be unstoppable." He sighs and holds his hand in his hands. "That miserable son of a bitch."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, which he covers with his, I say, "Well, get yourself together. You can't say or do anything about it. And first of all--"

"We have a responsibility to the Vigils." Spots grins up at me. "Let's go tell that fucker the good news, so I can see his face."

"After I get some clean clothes. A girl's gotta look her best for this stuff." I follow Spots to a room that I assume is his. After raiding his clothes, I wind up with an undershirt and some long shorts. "With all the clothes like this, it's a wonder anyone knows I'm a chick."

"Stop whining," Spots grumbles. I look up to see he's turned his back towards me.

I hook my arm through his and say, "My dear sir, I am quite decent. Let's go."

Vigils give us thumbs-up on the way past. Some scowl at me, but I don't care. Plenty of time later to fix that. Spots looks like responsibility suits him. He's already got that aura of command.

Me, I'm busy telling myself not to freak out, not to abuse power. Telling myself not to punch Peter in the face. So let's pretend that I don't know about Peter's actions at all. Pretend you're just afraid of seeing him now as you were after you beat him up. No anger. For now.

Knocking on the door, I don't bother with passwords. "Hey Tank, it's Wendy and Spots. We need to talk to Peter." The door inches open so Tank can look out. He yanks me inside and gives me a huge hug. Then he lets go and pretends it didn't happen. "Nice to see you," I say with a smile. "I assume Peter's in the Treehouse?"

"They're all there," Tank replies.

"Good," Spots says, sliding past me. "Saves the labor of telling it several times."

"Indeed." As I head down the main hallway, I fight the urge to grin wildly. Peter expected to break me of my ties and power. Little does he know that I'm coming back with power greater than before. I pause, my hand on the Treehouse door, to look at Spots. I arrange my face into a polite and composed expression. He closes his eyes and passes a hand over his face.

"Let's go."

I swing open the door. The Lost Boys look at me expectantly. Spots follows me inside until we're standing in the middle of the room.

"So what's the news from the Vigils?" Peter asks. He's sitting on the couch, looking relaxed. Smug bastard.

"I'm the new leader over the Vigils," Spots says after a pause. The Lost Boys crow and Peter jumps to his feet to, I suppose, congratulate Spots. But Spots holds up a hand and looks over at me.

"And so am I." There's no instantaneous cheering. Everyone takes a breath in confusion, and I hide a tiny smile.

But then my brother John stands up and crows, dancing around me and Spots. The rest of them join in, and before I know it, Spots and I are hopping around too. Peter hasn't moved at all. I can feel his rage like the sun, a boiling heat that washes over me. It only makes me happier to know he's pissed off.

"Well congratulations, Vi. You got yourself a slice of the streets for your own," Peter says during a lull in the hysterics. I smile at him anyway. "But I'm sure you've got better things to do than sit around chatting with us. Don't let us slow you up."

Determined not to claw his eyes out, I continue smiling. "Oh, yeah. Packing, moving. That sort of thing."

"Hey, Wendy, you gonna need help with that?" Michael asks. Bless his little heart.

"Yeah, we will." Spots grins at me. "I have to move my stuff too. And we have to fight over Sir Henry's room."

"To the death," I reply, nodding solemn as you please.

"So Peter, if you wouldn't mind letting her brothers help, I'd be very appreciative," Spots says. That's how much Spots takes after Sir Henry. Courteous, and careful. I would never ask Peter's permission.

The look on Peter's face changes from masked contempt to an odd, still look. A shiver plucks at my shoulders. "Sure. As a present of esteem, from me to you." Leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that he's furious with me.

"Thank you, Peter." Spots turns to leave, and I follow him out. Despite Peter's attempt to ruin my mood, I'm still quite pleased. And as I walk down the hallway, I discover a smirk on my face once more.

"You're so good at that. I don't have any tact," I sigh once we leave the building.

"We've both got duties, and we're both doing well at them." His face is white, showing how much strain the last few minutes caused. "Just try to stay out of Peter's way, OK?"

"I think I can handle that."

"You're a what?" Lily stares at me for a moment like I've turned into someone else. "So you're moving out now?"

"Yep. Moving in with the Vigils."

"That's so cool!" She claps her hands and, to my great surprise, gives me a hug. "You'll do great! I know you will."

Nothing like feeling loved.

Spots stands next to me, a little uncomfortable in Lily's home. It doesn't help that her siblings are all there, taking up so much room in the tiny house.

"Cody!" I bark, turning my attention to the Redcrow boys. He's got scissors to Mark's - well, I think it's Mark's - head.

Lily sweeps over and plucks the implement out of his hands. "You guys will do fine."

A knock on the door turns out to be John and Michael. And Metal and Jack. While Lily squawks about too many people in the house, I show the Boys to the room Lily and I shared. The floor is covered with boxes.

Jack gives me a disgusted look. "Bloody women. Always have to move everything they ever owned. Pack rat," he says, eyes narrowed accusingly.

"Why thank you, Jack," I reply, sweet and not worried. "Now If you could just grab that box for me." Michael starts to drag one of my suitcases, and I take the other end. We make our unsteady way out of the house while I keep close watch over the progress of my other possessions. "Hey! Watch the breakables!"

Spots, who's helping Metal carry a rather large box, gives me an annoyed look and asks, "So where are you going to put all this when we get there?"

"Sir Henry's room, where else?" Honestly.

Spots frowns. "I've already had my stuff moved there. Guess you'll have to pick somewhere else."

"Don't see why," I chirp. A wicked smile forms on my face. "We can share."

John coughs "whatever" at me. I stick my tongue out at him. Spots stares at me. "Share? Define 'share.'" Metal tries not to laugh.

"As in I get half the room and first dibs on the shower," I reply, glaring at Metal. Spots rolls his eyes, but that isn't a no.

"Lily seemed rather happy to be kicking you out, didn't she?" Jack asks.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. I don't think she realizes yet I made off with her best boots."

Vigils either smile or sulk, but the sight of the Lost Boys relaxes them a little. Even the angry ones can't deny that the Lost Boys have come to mean all that's stable on the streets. I just wish they didn't include far-from-stable Peter.

I dismiss the Boys one by one, hugging them, especially my brothers who swat at me for it. I walk down the hallway to the back room, the throne room.

But Metal hasn't left yet. I smile at him. "How're you doing?"

"Just dandy. Never been better," I reply softly. I lounge across part of the over-stuffed chair, patting the fabric next to me.

Metal sits down, crammed next to me, and puts an arm around my shoulder. "So how are you really doing?" I pout a little.

I know he won't tell Peter, so I decide to be a little open at least. "Freaked out. A little jumpy. Angry." That train of thought is dangerous. "I have to make the Vigils trust me. And I have to protect them."

"You can probably do both at the same time, Wendy," Metal says, chuckling. So glad someone's amused here.

Running a hand down his arm to grasp his hand, I say, "It's hard to know what to do in the first place. But there's not a lot I can do about that. I can't see the future." With a crazy grin, I tilt my face up to look at Metal directly. "But I can't believe that Peter thought he'd unseat me, and here I am, top of the world just like him. Stupid, crazy bastard."

Metal sighs and moves to get up. I'd forgotten he was still a Lost Boy, now that I've discovered a whole building nearly filled with kids who have a great potention for hating Peter. Stupid me.

Still, it does kind of hurt that no one chooses me over Peter.

Burning with renewed anger, I stand up first. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget myself." Metal raises his eyebrows at my contemptuous tone. It isn't fair of me to demonize him, especially when he of all people never pretended to be anything but loyal to the Lost Boys. "It's been a long couple of days. I don't think I've slept."

"It'll be OK." He smiles. "I'll come back and visit you sometime when you're feeling less on edge."

I smile, but it's sad. "I'd like that." He's still my teacher and my friend. Friends are all too precious, especially now. But I won't open myself to another Romeo, another potential betrayal. I will not be traded for Peter.

Something changes in his expression. He frowns and holds a hand to my face. "Wendy--"

The door opens. I look over to see Spots standing there. He coughs politely. "Sorry to interrupt, but we really need to divide up the room." Looking acutely embarrassed, he ducks back out into the hallway.

I raise my eyes to Metal's face. "I have to go unpack." Ducking under his arm, I give him a quick hug. Tears sting my eyes, but I won't cry, I won't. "Thanks for coming to help. Don't be a stranger." At the door I pause to look back at him. It lasts a heartbeat, and then I'm in the hallway.

Spots is putting clothes in a chest of drawers on his side of the room. "I didn't mean you had to do this now." He doesn't look at me.

"No, it's good. He needed to go." With a sigh, I sit on the mattress that marks my side of the room.

"I thought you guys were a-an item, or whatever."

"Were."

"When did that change?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" I snap. That was a horrible thing to say. Spots is just being friendly. "It changed when he picked Peter over me."

Flopping onto his bed, Spots considers me. "Who in the hell would pick that son of a bitch over you?"

"Just about everyone, apparently." I rub my eyes with my hands. Do I really have to unpack now? I'm so sleepy.

Spots snorts. "That's just stupid." I shrug and look at my boxed belongings with a glare. "I wouldn't, so you know. Pick Peter over you, I mean. Before today, even." He sighs and adds, "Go to sleep. You can unpack in the morning. I'll help."

I roll over onto my side, facing away from him, so he won't see the tears rolling down my face. Abruptly, I stop myself. I'm Wendy, enemy of Peter, former Lost Boy, Vigil Queen, and I'm not afraid of Pirates, any boy, or the future.

I won't cry over any Lost Boy ever again.

A whimper wakes me up, and I turn my face up to look at the pale ceiling. Did I really hear that? Another groan and a few whispered words confirms that I in fact did. Rolling over with a grimace, I push myself off my bed and sit up. The floor is cold as my toes search for my flip-flops.

I pad the few steps to Spots, rubbing my face and ignoring the suddenly loud slaps of the black foam-rubber against my heels. He's having another nightmare. Most nights he wakes me up like this. I learned after a week that if I want to sleep, it's faster if I bust him out of the dream.

I don't know if his parents did this to him, friends maybe, or some street kids - it's not my place to ask - but I hope that somewhere they're being beaten senseless regularly.

I crouch on his bed near his shoulder and reach out to touch his forehead. He stills a little, but it's not enough. He finally wakes up when I gently shake his arm, but he isn't aware. He blinks a few times, and I sidle off the bed, prepared to go back to sleep.

But he grabs my wrist. "What?"

"Bad dream," I reply. I don't know what else to say. I'm not really comfortable to figure out how to make you stop crying?

From the look on his face, he knows exactly what I mean. "Sorry, Wendy." I shrug. Just wanna go back to sleep. "Uhm. I know this is weird. But could you stay?"

I give him a searching look. I sleep five feet away from him, what's this going to matter? But whatever faults my parents had when I got older, they did console me for my nightmares. He deserves the same. "All right." I go back and scoot onto the bed next to him, flicking off my flip-flops.

He keeps holding my hand, propping his head on my shoulder. "I really am sorry I woke you up."

Against my better judgment, I ask, "How long have you had them?"

"Since I was ten." He clutches my hand a little tighter. Poor kid.

"Sorry. You don't have to talk about it." I run the fingers of my other hand through his hair, remembering it's the kind of thing you do at times like this. "Are you coming with, today?"

The Wolves have been disrupting Vigil business lately. I'm going to teach them to mess with us. I have a crew set up, Jag, Adder, some others. A new kid named Farraday, who came from the Wolves recently, that I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of.

"No, don't think so," he replies, voice slurring with sleep.

It isn't until Spots stirs that I realize I'd fallen asleep. I don't have time to laze around. I get up and begin the sort of warrior ceremony I've set up for myself over the last few weeks.

First comes a shower, like those ancient purification rituals. Wrapped in a towel and reasonably well-dried, I return to my room for clothes.

Adder raises an eyebrow while he talks to Spots, who ignores me completely. Clothes of choice today are a muscle shirt and industrial pants. Paired with steel-toed boots, the ensemble protects everything but my arms.

Back in the bathroom after changing, I take out my eyebrow ring and put in a bar. My nose ring is replace by the smallest stud I can find. On the counter by the sink is a leather band studded by metal. I put it on my left wrist.

This is the signal for our war party.

On my way back through my room, I pick up my switchblade and put it in my pocket. "Be careful," Spots says, looking up from tying his shoes. "Pirates are everywhere."

I salute him and walk out into the main hall. I pass many of the members of the war party. They see the spiked cuff and follow me. By the time I reach the door, Jag, Adder, Farraday, and C.B. are behind me. My honor guard, my personal army.

"Remember," I say, turning to face them. "We're just making a point. Don't start anything you can't finish."

They nod. Farraday grins, twirling his knife between his fingers.

We head out through the back streets, cutting behind Neverland and avoiding the pool. As we walk, someone begins to knock their knuckles against every dumpster we pass. Soon all of them do. In a way it's too comical to be sinister. Like West Side Story, as if any moment we'll burst into a choreographed dance number and leap around. I smile.

But when we round the next to last corner, two boys are standing in the alley. Pack, and someone I don't know. I hold up my left hand, and we all stop.

"Wendy," Pack says with a nod. "Vigils." His head is tilted down and he appears to be looking at my knees. The two Boys are blocking our way.

What in the hell is Peter pulling? "Pack. And whoever you are," I finally acknowledge, nodding to them.

"Nibs," the new kid supplies with a bow. He's got a smirking cruelty I'd love to beat around, but I resist. This isn't about the Lost Boys. Yet.

"Well, nice to meet you, but we've got some business this morning gentlemen." I smile, trying to be nice.

"Not no more," Nibs chuckles.

Pack shoots a glance at Nibs then back at me in his odd, indirect fashion. "Peter doesn't think it's a wise choice, to do what you're intending to do." A Vigil snorts with laughter. Nibs looks pissed. God, this is all a joke. "He encourages you to wait."

"It's not like we're gonna kill 'em," Jag says, walking up beside me. Someone mutters "yet." But I'm still silent. Jag opens his mouth again, and I motion impatiently for silence, the spikes on my arm making a low-pitched whirr. The Vigils quiet and stop fidgeting.

"I'm not Peter, and I'm not one of his own anymore." Raising my head higher, I add, "His caution is appreciated. Please move."

Pack crosses his arms. "I guess I should say he strongly urges you to walk away."

Hah. A smile breaks on my face. "I see. Well fuck Peter, I'm a little busy keeping my nose in my own gang's business. He might do the same."

Nibs flips out. He growls something and takes a swing at me. I move back a step, and Pack corrals his fellow Boy.

"Better put a leash on him," I chuckle.

"You don't say that about Peter!" Nibs shouts, surging against Pack's restraining arm. "You don't know shit!"

I raise my eyebrows. "All right Pack, here's what I'm going to do. I'll try out your boy Nibs here. If I win, you guys go away. If I lose, we'll go away."

"Hah! You can't do that," Nibs declares with confidence. Pack says nothing. "She can't do that. Can she?" The sudden realization passing over the Boy's face is a beautiful thing.

"She can," Pack replies.

"What Pack's neglected to tell you is that you just challenged me, and I've set my terms. You've gotta be new, cause you don't know about me. This is a good opportunity for you to learn." I raise my hands over my head and pop my back, stretch out my muscles. "Let's go." I pull out my knife and wait for Nibs to react.

He has a butterfly knife which he holds semi-confidently. I'll have to watch him a little more closely. He tries to stand like Peter does, but it just looks stupid on him. With a snide grin, I dance a step left, then right, and spin my knife up over the back of my hand to catch it again.

Before he can decide whether my showing off is a sign of my abilities or of bravado, I cut in at an angle. Nibs spins away, and I follow.

He slashes low, forcing me to hop back a couple inches. Putting a lot of force into my swing, I try out an upper slash. He follows my hand closely with his weapon and slashes down my arm. I shove him back and spare a glance at my wound. Mostly shallow, probably bleed very little.

"Good instincts. Ability to improvise," I say. But I was fighting below my skill level. Time to get a move on. "Little practical skill." He snarls at me.

I aim low and he ducks away, swinging his arm up to strike from the other side. Spinning my back to him, I grab his weapon hand with my left. I could finish him now, but I'd rather fight clean. Not make a mess with Peter. I can't flip him now that I stopped his momentum, so I plant a leg and throw him down, pivoting on the crushed glass and shattered asphalt.

He grabs my arm - drops his knife, the idiot - and kicks me in the stomach to flip me over him, movie-style. Retaining my knife, I stick a hand out to the ground and swing into a one-handed cartwheel. A bit of gravel wedges into my hand. I drop to a knee and swing my fist into his stomach. He coughs out his air and reflexively curls up. I smile and grab the front of his T-shirt, hauling him off the ground. While I'm doing that, I gesture for one of the Vigils to grab Nibs's knife off the ground.

Slamming him into the wall, I grin at his look, defiant even though he's gasping. Farraday hands me the butterfly knife. "As proof of my victory," I say, slicing a thin line down Nibs's cheek with his own weapon. Then I fold up the knife and press it into his hand. "You've got potential. Watch yourself with people you don't know."

Nibs spits at me, but it lands on my shirt, making me scowl. "I know you. You're just a Vigil bitch!"

"Who just kicked your ass," I remind him. But I reach into my pocket, deep at the bottom of it, and pull out the ring on its chain. I always carry it. It reminds me of the past and my duty now to both Lost Boys and Vigils. The ring spins slowly on the chain in front of his face, the shadows catching at Peter's engraved name. "That is who I was. You know nothing about it."

The ring goes back in my pocket. Nibs stares at me. I bet he's going to have a lot of questions for Peter now. I back away from him and look at Pack, who nods. I gesture for the Vigils to follow. We need to finish what we came for.

We walk past the two Lost Boys. Jag elbows me with a grin while the rest of the Vigils go over the details of the fight. I don't join in though. There's a nagging suspicion that Peter's up to something, and that little display with Nibs wasn't it.

The Wolves' den is quiet, as it should be on a morning like this. Because the Wolves don't bother with secret knocks and passwords - who'd want to steal anything from them anyway? - we walk right in, past the unconscious door-guard. I smile and continue further into the building. These kids are honest slobs. I don't even want to know what that is over there.

I turn to Farraday. "Where?"

He points down the hall then gestures left. All right. I take a step forward and stop. I hear the sound of feet behind us. Wolves are never up this early. Unless someone tipped them off.

Farraday shakes his head, eyes impossibly huge. I nod and ruffle his hair. I believe him. I seem to remember two Lost Boys on our way here. The sounds of approach have stopped, waiting for us to move.

Rush the ones behind us but miss the Wolves who are probably waiting at the other end of the hallway? Normally they wouldn't form a plan this complicated, but with Peter involved… Again I gesture for the Vigils to move, this time back down the hall we came from. After passing through my crew, I round the corner and come face to face with the Wolves' leader.

I hold up my spiked hand, and the Vigils halt behind me. The leader sees Farraday and glowers. I smile a little. "Just who I wanted to see."

He remembers me from the time Jack dragged me here as the heavy for his transaction. I can just see the scar on the leader's forehead, a slightly shiny arc on his temple that I gave him when I left. "What do you want, Vigils?" he asks, sticking his chest out.

"You're playing games on us, honey," I say sweetly, moving a little closer to him. "Nobody likes a two-faced liar."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says. Lame as ever.

Oh, how I love the Wolves. "You guys never do," I sigh, turning to face my Vigils and giving them a wink. "Kinda hard to stay alive if you're so clueless. So what I have a problem with specifically is how you seem to be playing us against the Lost Boys. And that isn't cool."

"Who says--"

I turn and swing the hand with the spikes at the Wolves. The Vigils rush out from behind me, knives drawn. I punch the leader in the stomach, then bring my knee to his face. After him comes a feisty, slim-built boy. I swing my left arm hard into his solar plexus. He shouts in pain, but the spiked cuff doesn't catch any skin.

The leader is up again, and he punches me hard in the stomach. I backhand him with my fist as I fall away. This time the spikes come away bloody, and the leader hits the ground, hand pressed to the side of his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and C.B. shouts my name. A knife blade slices my shoulder. I kick up and out, tossing the Wolf back.

"Wendy!" Jag shouts. Looking around, I finally see him cornered by a big Wolf at the end of the hall. I run, ducking through openings between bodies and over sprawled Wolves. Sliding to a stop, I cut an arc through the air with my switchblade. It buries quickly into the boy's ribs and out before he can react.

He shrieks in pain and stumbles around. A heavy-handed blow connects with my head, and I fall. For a second I'm so dazed I forget where I am. I sag against the wall, closing my eyes against the dizzy feeling. Then the Wolf grabs me by the neck and hauls me up.

I grab the guy's wrist to brace myself. With a vicious grin I kick him one, two, three times in the knee. His hold loosens, allowing me to bring my elbow down hard into his upper arm. He howls and flails at me. I kick high, hitting him upside the head, and he falls on his hurt arm. He cries on the ground with his fellows. They're either unconscious or they've given up, groaning from wounds and bruises.

I nod at my Vigils. Shallow cuts, a few bruises, potential for some shiners. I think I have the worst wounds, with blood streaming down my arm from the earlier cut down my arm and the slash on my shoulder. The Wolf leader is pinned against the wall by Adder and his hunting knife.

I have to step over a squirming Wolf - broken arm, it looks like - to reach Adder. Sending him away, I tilt the leader's head down so I can see the scratches bleeding down his face. They'll likely scar, but he isn't in any danger from them. "Honey, you need to pick your friends better." I lean in and say, "Every time you double-cross me and mine, I'm going to add a scar to your face. So if you want to be Peter's buddy, then don't pretend to be Spots's friend. Then we won't have a problem."

The leader looks at me like I'm nuts, which isn't uncommon, amusing me. "He's after you, y'know."

"I know," I murmur back.

"And you aren't scared of him?" One thing about being virtually the only person who isn't afraid of Peter - nobody really believes you aren't scared.

"I'm not afraid of him. Sometimes I'm worried about what he'll do to everyone else," I reply. He looks so scared, so hurt.

"Then worry about what he's doing to us," he hisses.

He's trying so hard to take care of his Wolves. It's not his fault that Peter's trying to use him against me, that he's caught between the two biggest gangs on the streets. It's been so long since I felt guilty, it almost hurts.

I look back at Jag, who's been listening. I don't even know what to say. I make a dismayed face, hoping he'll get the point. He stares, considering, and slowly begins to nod. Turning to Farraday, he says, "Go get something we can use for the blood, T-shirts maybe, and something for splints." Farraday blinks. Jag looks over at the other Vigils. "I know at least two of you can fix bones. If you can't, work on the knife wounds." The Vigils don't move, looking at me instead.

Ignoring their confused looks, I say, "We made our point, gentlemen. Now let's make an even bigger one." The Vigils move. Farraday presses a T-shirt into my hand and clasps it with both of his. I nod, and he takes off down the hallway, shirtless. Sponging at the cuts on the leader's forehead, I say, "I'll take more care, so be sure you do too." He doesn't get it. Probably doesn't believe me, either. "You've got to do what's right by the Wolves, and I understand. I'll try to stay out of your way."

"Thank you," he whispers.

I pat him on the shoulder and turn my attention to C.B., who needs help holding a boy down while they straighten his broken arm. I kneel on the Wolf's chest, getting in his face. "Shut up, stop whining. I don't want to hear another word, or I'll break the other one."

Jag leans down to whisper in my ear. "Peter's gonna be pissed."

I smile up at him, pitching slightly as the boy twitches beneath me. "Isn't the first time. Doubt it'll be the last." I'm still smiling when I get up to help the next ungrateful Wolf.

The knife whistles through the air where my shoulders were. My leg sweeps out and connects with knees. Spots falls with an "oof!" I stand over him with a grin. "Getting slow, old man."

He raises an eyebrow and reaches up, catching me behind the knees. I sit down hard on his legs with a surprised expression. That was unfair. "Who's getting slow?"

I crouch over him and put my switchblade to his throat. "Certainly not me."

The door slams open. I sit back on Spots's legs again. It's my brother Michael. "Hey, midget. What's up?"

"Wendy, you gotta hurry, you gotta come on," he babbles, trotting over to me and yanking on my arm. I get up. "I don't know how long he'll last."

"Who? What's going on?" I ask, following my brother out. Spots comes too, frowning, and keeps pace with me.

"John. He's in trouble," Michael says. He starts to run, the chains in his pockets jingling like crazy.

"Oh no. Where?" I shout, trotting beside him. My legs are longer, even though Michael's growing fast.

"The Mural Alley!"

"Go back home, Michael, and I'll get John!" A burst of adrenaline propels me forward past my brother. Racing the clock feels like this. What if this time I'm too slow? What if this time I can't save John? Then I'm too slow, I can't save him, and I'll deal later.

Not even imagining the things I'll do to Peter if he's arranged this.

The Mural Wall, where the gangs sign their names, is easy to find. I let out a battle cry and a huge, dark-clothed figure turns around. I nearly skid to a stop.

An adult.

I can tell even though it's dark and his face is painted with black grease. The tension in Spots's shoulders confirms we are in deeper shit than saving John. John is crumpled in the dead-end of the alley, the Wolves' wall, but he calls, "Wendy!"

"So you are the Wendy I've been hearing about," the man says. He grins and beckons with his hands. "Where's the fearless attack? I'm so looking forward to it."

I honestly don't know how to deal with an adult in a fight. He might be faster and definitely is stronger. But I've got a knife, and I've got a well-earned reputation of ass-kicking. Straightening my posture a little, I push strands of my violet hair out of my sight. I can take this.

Cautious, I step further into the alley, leaving Spots behind. "John, are you OK?" I know he's not fine, but I need to see if he can run for it.

Leaning against the wall, he pushes up to stand, unsteady. His lip's busted and an eye is already swelling closed. In his fist is a bloodied hunting knife. Good, he's gotten a piece of the guy. "I'll make it."

"So, whoever you are, how about we discuss this like reasonable people?" I ask. He won't, but the talking makes me feel better. The man chuckles, but beneath it I hear the ghost of a childish laugh. Refusing to look up to find that I can't see Peter, I take a few steps sideways, towards the Lost Boy wall. "So what do you want? I'm sure we can solve it without him," I say, gesturing at John.

"But it's so much fun this way," the man purrs and, an evil grin appearing, whips around. I start forward as he does, but he grabs John by the throat before I can reach him. His fist pulls back, I drop lower to move faster.

Linking my hands together around my switchblade, I use all my strength to slam them into the man's neck. He lets go of John. I grab John by the arm and push him past the man, yelling, "Go!"

The man yanks me back by the arm. Twisting in his grip, I aim a punch at his face. He grabs my fist. "Well, I wouldn't say you're absolutely perfect, Wendy. You need some work."

Thrusting upward, I bury my knife between his ribs with a snarl. He looks surprised. A dancing step allows me to knock his legs out from under him. My own leg aches from the force. He chuckles to himself and starts to get up.

This time I bring the knife straight down on the other side of his chest. "Spots! Knife!" Spots appears at my shoulder and presses his knife into my hand. With the one knife still embedded, I touch the blade of the other to the man's grease-black throat. He opens his eyes, a weird milky green-gold from this close, and looks impressed, a little fearful.

"So I think you should keep your day job," I whisper. I move Spots's knife to the corner of the man's eye. The man hisses, flinches, while I cut a line down his cheek. I'm thinking this will be my signature mark now. "No matter what services you receive in payment. Cause if there's a next time, I may just take something…off." I punctuate the statement by digging a little deeper into his cheek and twisting the knife in his ribs slightly. He barks in pain.

I get up quickly, removing my weapons as well. Thinking better of just leaving him, the bastard, I kick him in the ribs. John dabs at his lip near the end of the Mural Wall alley. He's limping a little and uses my shoulder for support. "If you can take me closer to Neverland, I can make it back home. Won't be good for you to show up after that."

I stop walking. Is he dense? "John, I think it'd be best if you and Michael came to stay with the Vigils." Safer, and Peter wouldn't be able to use them against me.

"But Neverland's our home. Besides, Peter doesn't stay angry for long and I kinda deserved this."

Deserved?! He's cracked. "Peter just looks like he's not angry. He holds grudges, you know that." My eyes feel like popping out of my head. "And deserved? Don't get me started."

"Wendy, I've been asking for it, really. If it'd just been some other kid to beat me up, I would've dealt. But with the whole adult thing, I couldn't cope." John grins, an ugly expression because of the blackening eye and bleeding lip. "Besides, it's a hard job to keep me in line. You know."

I press a hand to my eyes. Surrounded entirely by idiots, even my own family. I resolve not to say anything as we make our slow way back to Neverland, Spots a silent shadow at my side. John stops us when we arrive around the corner from the back door of Neverland.

"If you abuse the 'compelled to save your ass' clause of being sister to you," I say without warning, "I'll kick your ass myself." Poking him in the chest with a finger, in hopes there's a bruise there, I add, "And if you get Michael hurt, then you're gonna see what being in real trouble is."

John nods and, to my surprise, gives me a bone-crushing hug. "You're the best, Wendy. The absolute best." Spots looks amused at the gesture of affection.

"Oh, get off," I growl, shoving my brother away gently. "Might start to think you like me." John grins and limps off by himself, much to my displeasure. I don't want to bury him any time soon, and the grave seems to be the only place he wants to go.

"You can't keep him totally safe," Spots says. At the sound of his voice, I start to walk down the alley again.

"I can't keep anyone safe," I say. "But I could keep him safer than he is now."

"Wendy, wake up." I open my eyes and look at Spots. The this-better-be-good glare immobilizes my face. "The Pirates took the Lost Boy warehouse."

"What? When? Wait, did they catch any Boys?" The questions spill out as my brain, which is still sleepy, attempts to catch up.

"They didn't get any of the Boys. But Peter's righteously pissed," he says with a grin. Every knot in Peter's chain becomes mine and Spots's private joke. "No one was there, so I don't know how things went down. Was there even anything worth finding there?"

"Maybe drugs, which was all that was there the last time I saw it." I stretch, to feel all the muscles in blissful tension from my feet through my back, up to my arms. Sitting up, I decide I feel truly benevolent today. "I think we should pay Peter a visit."

"After all, he was so kind in our time of need, offering to lead the leaderless," Spots agrees, curling his finger in an imaginary beard. We chuckle, and he moves away so I can get dressed.

Paying Peter a visit isn't a bad idea, I realize, when Cowboy shows up in my room pursued by C.B. and Farraday. I'm in my frilly, girly 'under-things,' as the boys call them, debating on pants. My usual, or some of Spots's?

All three boys stop and stare at me. Putting a hand on my hip, I give them a Five Second Warning look. Cowboy doesn't look bothered in the least, but the two Vigils flush and stare.

"Well?" I ask, turning back to contemplate my selection of pants.

"H-he wanted to see you, w-wouldn't take no for an answer," C.B. says, looking over in the direction of Spots's shoe collection, away from me.

"What do you want, Cowboy?" I choose some jeans I borrowed from Lily and never gave back. They look better on me anyway.

"Peter's calling a war council, and he wants you and Spots to attend." Uh-huh. I'm sure. I tilt my head to the side as I look at Cowboy. "Hook is threatening our lives. It's time we got rid of him."

I nod. Not because I want to see Hook dead - even though he's a prick and a pain in the ass - but because I see that Peter's staging one of those takeovers that has a fancy French name. It won't stop with the Pirates. "All right. I'll be sure to tell Spots. When?"

"Soon as you can come." Cowboy tips his hat and stalks off. Well, Peter's wasting no time. Nice to know my instincts are still good in regards to his scheming.

"Farraday, find Spots. C.B., warn the war party that I need to talk to them as soon as I get back," I command, considering my choice of T-shirts. No one hops to do my bidding. "Did you understand that, or should I put on a shirt and repeat myself?" They scamper.

All the Lost Boys are present, including Nibs, who stalks to the opposite side of the room from me to sulk. His face is barely scabbed over from our encounter a few days ago. Then there's Tink. Tiger Lily. The Wolves' leader and his second. The leader nods at me, introduces himself to Spots, naming himself Charles. I incline my head to him.

Peter sits on the couch like the king of the world. And he's frowning. "I asked for Alyssa to come, and she's not here yet." God, he sounds like a little kid. I want a pony, wah.

"You know the Mermaids hate to pick sides," Lily says, running a hand along his arm. I wonder what she sees in him at moments like this. But Peter knows the Mermaids have picked sides before, for me.

"Hey, Wendy," Tink says, wandering over to me. She's got early-blooming jacaranda twisted like a fairy-tale crown in her hair. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What's up?" I ask, moving with her away from the boys.

"I may have to ask you for a favor. Something you won't want to do, but I need you to do." She looks desperately unhappy, twisting her hands together without stopping.

"Do you need me to beat somebody up?" She shakes her head. "Is it something more - more delicate, maybe?" I say, shocking myself with the rush of fear I feel at that possibility.

"No, no of course not," she snaps, planting her hands on her hips. But she doesn't smile. "But it's something you won't like."

"I can do my best, Tink."

"I really need you to do this, Wendy."

I sigh. She should know better. "I can't promise. You know I can't. You'll have to tell me what it is first."

"Peter's going to ask for something. Not just for the Vigils to help with Hook, but about talking to Hook." Peter would never, ever, stand to talk to that Pirate, and I don't think any of the rest of us would either. "Please, you need to go talk to Hook."

I stare in confusion. "Tink, you have got to be crazy. I can't do that."

"Wendy--"

"No, Tink. That's suicide."

"OK, we can't wait anymore." Peter stands up and begins to pace. Ducking my head at Tink, I rejoin Spots, and we share a chair, the only one that's left. "We have to stop Hook." And enter the sweeping generalities. Yeah, this is gonna become an argument soon. My irritation pushes Tink's request out of my head.

"Was there anything in the warehouse that was really important to keep?" Spots asks. Peter looks at him like Spots is nuts. "It's not like I care what it was, but was it the building you lost or more than that?"

"That's not the point!" Peter says with a dismissive wave. Course it's not the point. Peter doesn't care about what's gone. He cares about Hook. "The point is that Hook is threatening us."

I wonder if it's a bad thing that I can understand his thinking so well.

But I'm not the only person who thinks that Peter's the only one being threatened, since several people are giving each other these sideways glances in flash-fire succession. Do you think he's as nuts as I do? You betcha. None of us wants to ask his brilliant plan.

"We have to attack, but we need to draw him out here, to the streets where we rule." Peter looks pleased. That's a plan? He really thinks we're going to do his grunt work for him. Flesh out his plan, set it into motion, and - with a smidge of his gracious help - get rid of Hook for him.

Well, he already hates me anyway. "And how exactly are you going to lure him out here and attack him?" I sit forward on my half of the chair, away from Spots. "Hook's getting dangerous because he's getting secure. Most of us have never fought Pirates before. That's a lot of danger for a lot of kids, even with the best plan." My tone is deliberately flat, stripped of accusation.

He blinks, debating, I'm sure, on whether to kill me now or not. "There's always a cost for freedom, Vi." And he still calls me that stupid name. He's trying to make me the bad guy, too. I really wish someone else would be brave for a second.

The Wolves' second in command "hmms" to himself before saying, "I think I should say what I think." Oh great. Real winner here. I take it back. I really wish someone else who's as intelligent as me would be brave. "Seems to me that Hook's only got it out for you, Peter, not us. But anyone who he finds between him and you, Hook takes away. Like Sir Henry, who's in jail now."

Impulsively, angry from the memory of Sir Henry's messed up face, I start to stand up. I don't even lose contact with the chair before Spots yanks me down by the arm. I look around. No one noticed.

"So really, it's in our best interest to stay out of it," the Wolf finishes. Everyone stares, including me. I make a mental note to keep a watchful eye on him. He has potential.

Peter looks between me, Spots, and the Wolves. I think he honestly believed we'd help him. Maybe it never even entered his mind that we wouldn't. You'd think he would know by now that I'm highly unlikely to go along with him, but I guess the fact that I might not be the only one is a big deal. He sits down hard on the couch and his eyes tear up. Oh, yay, the guilt trip begins. "You won't help me?"

"Can't," Charles says. His fellow Wolf shakes his head.

"At least not how you mean," Spots adds, with an anxious look.

I feel so light, so free for a moment that it takes everything not to smile. I'm not alone here. For once, maybe I won't have to be the heavy.

Peter turns and looks at me. I freeze. The hate in his eyes is so strong he may start shooting laser beams soon. Of course he blames me for this. He thinks I'm deliberately trying to leave him out for Hook to capture. Which isn't the whole truth, cause I haven't been trying to turn other people against Peter. Holy shit.

He's going to really go after me this time. Not just my brothers, but everyone on my side. Every last person on the street between me and him and Hook.

Peter's expression changes subtly, and he approaches me. I blink, afraid for a moment that he'll murder me in front of everyone. But instead he drops to his knees in front of me and buries his face in my lap.

Tiger Lily takes her turn to give me her own go-to-hell look.

So soft, Peter begins to babble. I can't hear all of it, but it sounds like all the other times he tried to keep my in his pocket. How much I mean to him. How great I am as a person. I just stare at the top of his crazy red head.

He's going to try to get me out of the way, and I'm going to try to get rid of him, now. I'll just have to get there first. I really have to stop him this time, before he hurts more Vigils, or my brothers, or the Wolves. And before he drags the Lost Boys down with him.

I could end it now, just one stroke. My knife is heavy in my pocket. I have never wanted anything more than I want to bleed him out at this moment.

I raise his head and lean over until my forehead touches his. "OK, Peter. We'll help."

He put Sir Henry in jail. He nearly killed my brother. Twice.

I smile to reassure him, and he grins back. "Just don't go too fast. We need to be careful and thorough," I say. He nods and, placing his hands on either side of my face, kisses my cheek.

Lily's positively shaking. The two Wolves stare at me. I wish I could tell them, I'm lying, really. But hopefully at least Charles will catch on.

I can't even bear to look at Spots.

"We'll need to send someone to talk to Hook. Gain some confidence, find out his plans," Peter says, standing up again. Tink looks at me. Her eyes are huge, pleading. I can't. Not after the fact that Hook hates me, or the fact that I'm not just a Lost Boy. I'm leading the Vigils. "Preferably someone he doesn't recognize and hate, like myself."

Tink's looking more desperate. I can't. Hook would sooner arrest me. "Guess that counts me out," I grumble, turning my gaze away from her.

"I'll do it," Tink says. I still don't look up. "He doesn't know me. I could do it."

Peter considers this and nods. "OK, that'll work. I guess for now we'll wait on Hook to see you and just keep our eyes open." He looks at all of us. "Thank you so much for your help. We'll come out of this OK."

I get up to leave, but Jack grabs me by the arm and whispers in my ear. "If he thinks you're not helping, he'll kill you." I find the strength to nod. This means Peter's already been plotting that possibility with the Boys. Glad some of them still like me. Although with Jack it's very, very strange.

Metal gives me a hug, but I back out of it after a moment and fiddle with my hair. "Thank you for helping us, Wendy. It means a lot." Then I do look at him, and I can't keep the sadness off my face. He blinks, unsure of what the expression means. Maybe someday he'll figure out that I'm so close to betraying everyone I love and everything I've worked for. And that isn't helping anyone, much less the Lost Boys.

"Don't mention it," I reply and walk out of the Treehouse.

Spots and I are alone in the hallway, and he looks enraged. "What was that all about? What do you mean, we'll help? Who gave you the right--"

I clap a hand over his mouth and drag him to the outside door. "Shut up," I hiss, tugging harder on his arm. He still looks angry, enough to fight, but he shuts up. "Let's talk about this when we get home. And if you want to hit me then, by all means, you can."

Once inside our familiar Vigil walls, we push past everyone and head to the throne room. "Look. Peter needs to think we're helping him so he'll keep off our case. One of the Boys told me that if I don't help, Peter will kill me. So it's kind of important we at least look the part."

Spots clenches his fists. "So you're risking all of us because you don't want Peter to kill you?"

"No, you asshole!" It's the first time I've ever said anything like that to him. Well, apart from our first meeting. I feel briefly shamed, but I soldier on. "Who stands up to him? Me. You. Now Charles and his second. Not the Vigils. Not the Wolves. Just us. Just. Fucking. Us." My voice breaks, and I turn away to keep from crying. It's been a stressful evening.

Spots puts his hands on my shoulders, which shudder from the strain of repressed tears. "I'm sorry." He rests his head against the back of mine. "What if it doesn't have to be just us?"

I draw a shuddering breath and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's time we have our own war council."

A pause. "Maybe."

He sighs, resting his head partially on his hand and my shoulder. "We need you, Wendy."

"I'm here," I say, putting my hands over his. "We're going to beat this. We will not go down with Peter."

Our private war council consists of our second-in-commands - Jag and Quest, who's still a pain in my ass - and my war party. "Got everybody?" Spots asks, glancing over the group in the throne room.

"Looks like," I reply, and shut the doors.

"All right, let's get down to business. You want to start, or should I?" he asks me.

"You start." I go sit on the overstuffed throne, and the boys sit down around us.

"This morning, Hook took one of Peter's warehouses." The Vigils make appropriately scandalized noises, even though they already know this part. "Peter called a council, and asked us to help out. We will. Some." Spots looks at me. "Your turn."

Oh, fine. I stand up. "Here's the deal, boys. Peter's full of shit and is going to get us all killed. We'll look like we're helping him, but what we need to focus on is getting him out of power."

Chaos erupts. The Vigils shout at me and each other, a chorus of dissenting opinions. If they make more noise, Peter himself will hear. "Shut up!" Even I jump at Spots's shout. The Vigils fall into silence. "Let her finish. Then we'll discuss it." Be mature, his tone of voice says.

"What you don't know is that we've already lost Vigils because of Peter," I say. "Sir Henry and the other Vigils were arrested because Peter left them there for the Pirates to find, while he ran away. He saved his own ass, and Sir Henry is in jail. I don't intend to let Peter get any more of us."

"How do we know that Peter purposefully left them for the Pirates?" Quest asks. He's the only one, though. The other boys are making fists and grinding their teeth, looking murderous.

"Because Sir Henry told me that Peter came back and used a chair to knock all the Vigils out and down. When they got up again, the back door was blocked." I smile, the bitter kind that feels like acid. "Doesn't sound like help to me."

"And he was here just a few hours later, trying to take over in Sir Henry's place," Jag says hoarsely.

"That bastard," Adder says. The other Vigils nod.

"Wait till the others hear--" C.B. says, slamming his fist into his palm.

"No," I say, holding up a hand to silence them. "Not a word of this will leave this room. I don't care if God shows up and asks you if Peter got Sir Henry arrested. You just pretend you don't know shit. Do not go and tell anyone. The moment Peter realizes you know, he will destroy us. I need your brains and ears and eyes to figure out what Peter's doing, keep up with ideas about getting rid of him." I fix them with a piercing glare. "You will not tell anyone about this. You will act like everything's fine, even if it kills you. Peter certainly will kill you if you talk. And if I find out, I will most certainly rip you apart. Got me?"

They look at each other. Will she? Wouldn't she? I smile politely. "That doesn't just apply to her. I'll kill you myself. And if you do spill this, remember that you'll be getting your friends hurt and killed. So keep track of each other," Spots adds. "And that's really all there is to it."

They still look dazed, but they nod and take it as their signal to leave. My war party gives me the most reassuring looks. I know they'll do it. Quest shakes my hand, but I don't let go. "Look, I know we don't always agree--"

"Hey. I'm behind you. Peter's gotten too--God, he's just an asshole." He smiles at me, the first time I've ever seen him relax. "I will never betray the Vigils. Never."

"Good. Just--good." He nods, and I say, "Remember guys, not a word to anyone else. Trust me when I say we'll be calling you in again soon." Spots gives them a thumbs-up, and they scatter.

"So will we make it?" he asks.

"Yeah, we'll make it."

"When is she coming back?" I ask, tapping my foot in a traditional display of impatience. I've been here for an hour and a half, playing a game of Spoons with Michael and the Twins.

"She should be back soon," Peter replies, glancing at his watch. "It's not like we can plan how long Hook will talk to her, y'know."

I hold up my hands to indicate I know. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway.

"I think we should play with forks," one of the Twins - the one on my right - says as he shuffles the deck.

The Twin across the table from me nods with a hasty grin. "Stabbing." Sometimes these kids scare the hell out of me.

Spots kicks me in the leg to get my attention. The Wolves he's been talking with look slightly annoyed, so I bet this is some sort of "We'll see what Wendy thinks about all this." Spots opens his mouth, but the door to the Treehouse opens and Tink staggers through it.

She's been shot. She's dying. Hook's coming to get us. But then I see the tequila bottle in her hand. Wonder if that's a good or bad sign? "C'mon kids, let's go up on the roof and have a party!" She stumbles back out into the hallway. Nobody moves.

"I'll go see what she wants," I declare and get up. The Lost Boys look shocked. I guess they've never seen her drunk like this before. Maybe Peter and Romeo, but to the rest she was pretty aloof, cold even. I know she was like that to me in public. But then we also used to get drunk off our asses in private, so.

I trot up the stairs to the roof. Tink's sitting on an old air conditioning unit, swaying a little and humming to herself. She sees me approaching and says, "I went to see him. I don't think he trusts me. So I told him he had to get Peter out of here, but he thought I was sent to trick him. We argued, and he said he didn't know my name or face, how was he supposed to know I was the real deal?" She giggles.

I'm horrified. Tink, of all people, told Hook to get rid of Peter. I say, "C'mon Tink," and tug on her leg. "That isn't a real loss. He's just a jerk, needs a little time. It'll be better the next time you see him, I bet."

She stares at me. I fidget. "Wendy, there won't be a next time. Peter won't let me go again. He'll send Tiger Lily."

"She'll do a good job, it's not so bad," I murmur, trying to soothe her.

"Yes, it is bad!" she snaps, waving her arms sluggishly. "Cause Tiger Lily won't try to move Peter. I tried. You will."

"Tink, who says I'm trying to get rid of Peter?" I ask, laughing nervously.

"I'm not stupid, Wendy. Don't treat me like I am. If you want Peter gone, you're going to have to work with the Pirates. Don't tell me you can't see that. Otherwise you're all the same to Hook." She sucks down mouthfuls of tequila.

"Tink, don't. It's not that bad yet--"

"How bad do you think it is?" Her eyes flash, and I feel a little relieved. Angry is better than hopeless. "How much time has to go by before you see how poisoned we are because of Peter? How many we've lost because of him? You just--you can't know--" she whispers, grabbing at my shoulders and falling gracefully off her perch.

The hinges of the roof door squeal as they open. "Tink? What's going on?" I half-turn my head to see Peter standing in the doorway. His question hangs in the air for a moment before he takes a step toward us. Tink backs away, dragging me with her.

"Listen!" she hisses at me, still moving away from Peter. "You have to go and talk to Hook in my place. He'll believe you. He's seen you, watched all your reactions. He remembers you even when he doesn't want to." Ew, sick. I make a face. "Not like that. He knows you're special, smart, good at what you do. Don't pull any bullshit with him. You have to do this."

"Tink, I can't." A little bit of a whine enters my voice. "I've already got the Vigils to take care of. He won't believe me anyway! He hates me!"

Tink shoves me down and runs down the fire escape. I leap up to follow her. Our footsteps sound like gunshots, rumbling thunder. We have a lead on him, but Peter's following.

She runs toward the main road, but I push myself and attempt to catch her. Abruptly she stops, and I almost can't stop myself from crashing into her. My feet skid on the loose gravel and glass.

"Listen, Wendy. I know you won't do this until no one's standing here between you and Hook. Tiger Lily won't look out for the Lost Boys or anyone else. She looks out for herself, and she hates you. She hates you because Peter loves you."

"Peter hates me," I snap.

"He feels both," she snaps back, flicking her blonde hair out of her face. "But he asked Lily to let you stay in her house, as a favor to him, and she hates you for it. She would do anything for Peter, but she'd also like to take you down, you and your Vigils. You have to be strong enough to do this, so I have to get rid of what's between you and Hook."

"Tink, what?" The information about Tiger Lily, about Peter, mixes up everything in my brain. But a terrible, terrible fear is starting to grow. "What are you saying exactly?"

She shakes her head and wobbles to her feet. Her gaze shifts behind me, and I can hear the crunch of Peter's feet on the asphalt. She salutes him, gives me a pointed look, and starts to run again. She charges straight into the sidewalk, full of people, and keeps running. The last thing I see of her is her hair whipping free of the jacaranda crown as she leaps straight into the street.

I scream and launch myself forward. Tires squeal and metal groans and crunches and a scream that sounds like Tink cuts off abruptly.

"Tink!" Peter screams. He attempts to run past me, knocking into my shoulder. A couple people turn to look at us, and I realize we could be very much in trouble. The panic in my brain shuts off instantly. I grab Peter's arm. He struggles, and I wrap my arms around his middle to haul him backwards.

He keeps shouting, and his voice cracks. I viciously jerk him back into the alley, swinging him into a brick alcove with all my strength. "Shut up, or we're gonna get caught. They'll think we threatened her or something, and that's why she--Shut up!"

People begin to scream. And the wail of sirens rises in the background.

"We--we have to see if she's OK!" Peter hisses at me.

"Do you think she's OK? I mean, honestly, tell me, do you think some drunk girl who runs out into traffic is going to survive an accident like that? Tell me, cause I don't believe it!"

But we listen anyway, for a moment. I hear people shouting, "I didn't mean to hit her!" and the occasional professional opinion, "I think she's dead." But someone yells, "What's wrong with you? Have a little respect for the dead!"

"C"mon, Peter. We have to go." I drag him up to standing and run one of his arms around my shoulders. He stumbles along with me, tears running down his face. I can barely stand from his weight, but somehow we make it back.

The front door opens up to Jack. "Where's Romeo?" I ask. I'm sure as hell not staying here. Not when Tink did this over Peter in the first place. Panic and grief try to swamp me, but I'm not through here yet.

"Where the hell have you been?" Tears sting my eyes as I look at Jack. He drops the subject. "Everyone's still in the Treehouse."

Once inside the Treehouse, I shove Peter at Romeo and gesture to Spots that it's time to go. "Sorry, guys, I need to go." My voice breaks and more tears threaten to spill out.

I walk so fast out of Neverland, like if I could walk fast enough I'd outrun the last hour.

"What happened?" Spots finally asks, forcing me to stop walking. Forcing me to think about something other than the holes in the asphalt and the cardboard boxes I have to step over.

"Tink wasn't very successful. Hook was suspicious and she was afraid Peter would turn on her. So she ran in front of some cars to end it." Tears well up. I turn my face to the sky, as if it'd make them go away. "And Peter was there, and we had to run in case anyone saw us when the cops showed up. She's still there, bleeding or dead, and we left her there. And it's my fault."

"You had to leave," Spots says, moving in front of me, "but it isn't your fault it happened."

I drop my head, allowing tears to spill forward, burning down my cheeks. "Yes it is! She asked me to talk to Hook, and I should've done it--" My breath comes in gasps so great I can't finish. I see Tink's crazed eyes and the scream of tires and the sound of her voice telling me I had to be strong.

I drop to my knees, ignoring the sharp pain of gravel and glass that digs through my jeans. Spots grabs me by the arms before I can fall completely. "Hey, c'mon--"

Operating more on instinct than thought, I take a swing at him. He grabs my fist in his hand and folds my other arm up against his, just in case. I sob, half-held up by Spots. "Oh, God. Wendy, I'm sorry." He hugs me tight, and I cry into his shoulder, weeping as loud as I can.

The tears dry up slowly as I start to think of everything I have to do, such as how to tell Hook that Peter's fucking nuts and I need his help. I let out the final compulsive sob in a hiss.

"I have to go talk to Hook tomorrow," I tell Spots.

And if he messes with me, I'll make sure I rot in jail alongside Sir Henry.

Move on to James T Hook -->