My Darling Girl *Disney fanfic*

7. The Evil Imp

"Wendy? John?" Michael's voice wobbled. He stood over them, unsure what to do – tears gathering in his baby blue eyes. Pan set Wendy gently down on the ground before rising to his feet. "What's happening? Are they going to be ok?" Michael's lip quivered as he stared at up at Pan. The imp was no longer smiling.

"I've given them a gift."

"They can fly?"

Pan shook his head.

"Humans can't fly. Nature won't allow it."

"But you said-"

"I lied," Pan shrugged. "It's what imps do."

Michael backed away from him.

"What gift have you given them?" He asked, a tear slid down his round face – falling against the soft material of his onesie. Pan spread out his arms majestically.

"Immortality," he declared, awfully pleased with himself.

"Why?"

"There's a market for it," was Pan's cryptic reply. His dark eyes flashed dangerously and he prowled forward, penning Michael in. "It's age restrictive though – won't work on adults or the very young." Pan cocked his head to the side, grinning evilly.

"Why?" Michael's chin trembled when his back hit the wall. He was trapped. "Why are you doing this?"

"Your father has rather ruined things for me. Well, it's only a temporary setback really. But bad for business. This," he rested a hand on Michael's chest – keeping him in place. "This is about sending a message."

"Nana!" Michael screamed, "NANA! HELP!"

Pan threw back his head and laughed. Tears rolled quickly down Michael's pale face.

"She won't be coming to help you." Pan's grin stretched wider. "She's already dead."

Michael heard a click – he flinched, seeing the knife in Pan's hand. "Now, let's send a message to daddy Darling – shall we? Hmmm?"

Michael tried to struggle, but his little arms and legs were too fragile compared to Pan's strength. He whimpered, tasting the cold steel, his eyes pleading for mercy. Pan laughed as he started cutting – hacking Michael's face apart - and Michael screamed, an awful piercing drawn out sound. Blood splattered over Pan's face, dripping down his chin and making the whites of his eyes stand starkly out. 

Tears fell down Wendy's face. Unable to move she could only listen. But inside she was screaming – screaming for someone to save her baby brother. When Michael's agonised moans stopped, Pan was panting for breath. He whistled, invigorated. Wendy heard Pan approach her and wanted to recoil when knelt down at her side.  

"All done," he told her brightly. 

Pan picked her up, having no difficulty with her weight, and held her close. They rose into the air and Wendy briefly got a view of Michael. His hand lay limp – overhanging the bed, his tiny fist drenched in blood. Her heart constricted painfully. Pan flew out of the window. The sudden cold breeze ruffled Wendy's hair and Pan crooned reassurances that 'she'd be in the warm soon'.

He set down beside a fancy carriage. His companions, two boys, made to take her but Pan wouldn't give her up.