Firstly, thanks so much for choosing my fanfiction! I will try to update weekly, depending on my personal schedule and thought process. This is my first fic in a while :) I'll give a little introduction to each chapter that you can skip if you want absolutely no spoilers, as well as a little taste of what to expect in the next chapter. Enjoy!

Intro: Pitch is awakened, and realizes that he wasn't the only one affected by the retreat of darkness into light. Not all chapters will be from Pitch's perspective.

In the deepest of caverns, in the darkest of shadows, Pitch slept. He lay in the middle of the cold stone floor, hands folded delicately over his chest as though he were in a coffin. It had been long time since the Nightmares had abandoned Pitch, sucking him dry of terror until he was unable to remain in a conscious state. The cave air was thick and cloying with sluggish shadows that curled like smoke off of Pitch's body. There was no light, not in the deeper recesses of the lair where Pitch had retreated to. The only sound was the rhythmic, quiet breathing of someone who was deep in sleep.

The shadows suddenly intensified as a soft thud echoed through the darkness, followed by the patterned hush of boots across stones. Nervously swarming around Pitch, the shadows grew thicker as though to shield the Nightmare King from the strange approacher. Yet the footsteps grew closer. They ceased close to Pitch, and a strangled gasp was caught in the dark.

"Ah, so you can play with fear even in your sleep? That is good, that I was not expecting." The stranger chuckled. Suddenly, his body wracked with the terrors inflicted by Pitch's subconscious, a final line of battle to warding off danger and letting Pitch recuperate. After several deep breaths, the stranger lowered to his knees and clutched his head, trembling. "You think you're so strong, even in the Realm of Dreams." He gasped, slowing raising a heavy hand into the air directly above Pitch's chest. "Allow me to prove your mistake."

With a shout, the stranger thrust wickedly sharp claws directly into the empty cavity of Pitch's heart. He grunted, and dug deeper, thrusting his full weight over his hand and leaning into the wound he created. Black blood spurted and oozed from the punctures, trickling down Pitch's black cloak and congealing on the ground. With a start, Pitch's eyes flew open, golden irises fully rounded in terror illuminating the darkness. He gasped as blood bubbled through his mouth, choking off the strangled cries of fear. The stranger grinned toothily, and a slick burgundy mist began seeping from the arm of the stranger into Pitch. The mist seared and burned within Pitch, lapping up the black and sealing the wounds. It shuddered into Pitch's heart, thudding and twitching as Pitch's body automatically tried to reject the burgundy. Pitch's whole body shook, and he screamed in fresh agony. Then the stranger removed his clawed hand and Pitch lay motionless on the ground, his last cries still resounding in the echo of the caverns.

Breathing heavily, Pitch grasped over his chest where the stranger had attacked him. The skin seemed unbroken, but Pitch could see the five small scars where each finger had punctured, circling his heart. They left thin white lines against Pitch's grey pallor, four small circling above and one larger beneath. Pitch looked up sharply, eyes narrowing. 'What do you want?' His voice was cold and clipped and steady, hiding the tremor just beneath his skin.

The stranger was tall and lean, and attractively dressed in high-waisted black trousers, white blouse, and old fashioned black cloak that fell to the ground. In one hand he clutched an ornate walking stick. Beneath the open cloak poked out two slick black boots with high laces. He looked to be around twenty, younger than Pitch. But Pitch knew that appearance was always misleading to the true age and experience of a supernatural being. The stranger had thick black hair tucked beneath a velvet top hat, decorated with a crimson ribbon wrapped round the base. His eyes twinkled an inviting green, and a smatter of freckled dotted his pale face. His lips were pulled into a charming grin, and his brows arched as he surveyed Pitch.

The stranger crouched to Pitch's eye level, long legs folded beneath themselves. 'I want a friend. I get so lonely. Humans can only offer so much company before they become...obsolete.' He laughed. 'Will you be my friend, Pitch Black?'

'What do you really want?' Pitch steadied himself, and slowly stood up. He forced his posture to intimidate, arms at his side ready to thrust shadows right into the stranger's infuriating grin. 'Obviously you're an immortal, some wandering spirit or other inconsequential being.' Pitch mocked. His chest still burned. 'What did you do to me?' He forced his voice to pose the question calmly.

'Oh that?' The man asked in mock innocence, gesturing with his cane. 'Just some insurance. Not that I doubt you'd join me, but a little extra motivation never harmed anybody, eh?" He spoke in a lilt, exaggerating vowels and crisping t's. 'And I'll have you know, I'm about to be very consequential, to you, to the Guardians, and to the very balance of the universe.' He whispered, suddenly vicious. 'Not even old Manny is the Moon will be able to stop me. If you're willing to join my cause, that is.' The man gave a cheeky smile, suddenly charming again. 'And why wouldn't you? We want the same thing, it only makes sense! I thought to myself "Now who can I find, sympathetic to my beliefs, with enough power and wisdom to overthrow the forces of Good for good?'

Pitch raised his brows. 'You flatter me. If not for the glowing concept of my own greatness thickening your senses, you may have realized that not five minutes ago I lay unconscious of the ground, by the doing of my own Nightmares. I was not able to defeat the Guardians, and I will remain unable so long as they remain loyal to the children of the world. I am finished.' Pitch frowned internally at the realization. His mouth twitched, and his body felt oddly hollow.

Here the man jump up and clapped gleefully. 'But don't you see, it's not! I'm giving you a second chance, to rise form the shadows and rebuild the great sovereignty of the Nightmare King. And I'm here to help, I told you that.' The man stepped towards Pitch purposefully. 'We can defeat the Guardians. I have other friends as well, good friends with strong loyalties. But none of them will be a companion like you. We will emerge as equals, I promise.' The man's green eyes flared with intensity, locking into gaze with Pitch. 'And we will take back what is rightfully ours. The powers they stripped from us.'

'Funny, I didn't think one of the rituals of friendship included gouging wounds into said friend.' Pitch's face twisted cruelly on the word "friend". 'Not exactly a wonderful first impression.'

The man waved a hand. 'Oh, that's already old news, it's in the past. Fresh start, starting now! Plus, I had to wake you up somehow, right?' The man's face smoothed, and he looked suddenly intense and...almost intimidating. 'So, we have a deal, right? You'll help me and my friends win back our Darkness from the greedy, consuming forces of Light, who leave no room for you or me in the vastness of all the universe?' He stretched out a hand.

Pitch eyed the man, skeptical. Yet the promise of redemption appealed to him, pulling softly at him to shake the man's hand. Feigning disinterest, Pitch laughed coldly. 'Why would I agree to your plans when I don't even know who you are? Truly, a foolish ploy on your part.'

The man's eyes flashed in fury. He clenched his open hand into a fist, and inhaled hard. Teeth clenched, the stranger struggled to compose himself. 'Nothing I do is foolish, okay? It's all a part of the plan. You're just...you don't understand my brilliance.' His voice was high and upset, and he pointed his cane in energetic accusation. Pitch stepped back, startled. The man's face was twisted in rage, astonishingly transformed from handsome and charming to ugly and vicious. Though Pitch was unsure, he thought the twinkling green eyes flashed scarlet.

Then suddenly, the man's face smoothed. He closed his eyes, and when they reopened, they shone a normal green. 'Haha, woah! I'm sorry, I just have issues.' The man laughed. 'I just get a little upset, that's all! It's okay, you'll grow to like my quirks.'

I'd catalogue hostile outbursts to be far more than a quirk, Pitch thought. He didn't dare voice the opinion, for fear of further provoking the strange, hostile, friendly young man. For now it was best to agree. Pitch could feel the recesses of his power drained, and he knew that he was not powerful enough to defeat the man. Not yet anyways. It would be best, perhaps, to align with this stranger. At least for now.

'Very well. I'm interested.'

The man punched a fist into the air. 'Wonderful! Perfect! You won't regret this, promise! Oh, I'm so excited!' His voice was husky with enthusiasm. He started off to the exit of the cavern. "Right then, let's be off! I can't wait for you to meet my friends.' His black cloak fluttered from the briskness of the man's stride. Pitch slowly followed, wondering if he would regret the situation he was about to place himself in. Probably, but what choice did he have now?

'One last question.' Pitch said.

The man stopped suddenly, and whipped around. 'What!?' He shrieked, hands stiffly clenched at his sides.

Pitch exhaled and blinked. 'I-what is your name?'

The man immediately loosened. He laughed loudly. 'Oh, that, of course.' With a tip of his hat and a flourish of his cane, the man bowed deeply and grinned.

'They call me Spring-heeled Jack.'

In the next chapter, the Guardians learn of Pitch's awakening, and Jack is astounded to learn that Pitch is not the only creature of darkness out to get them.

Again, thank you so much! Reviews mean a lot to me, and are always helpful in the writing process. Many thanks!