It was raining. Of course it was. Anytime he was around, there was bound to be rain. And because rainwater was pouring from the sky, there was a distinct lack of children in the yards even though it was nearly noon on a weekend. Rain scoffed. His life-bringing water always went unappreciated. They should be out with their arms spread wide and their heads thrown back, eagerly taking in the much needed life-sustaining liquid. But no, instead, the children and their parents locked themselves away, hiding from the very spirit that nourished them.
It had been so different in the Dark Ages, a time when offerings and sacrifices would be made to appease the rain bringer. Now there were no such things. His storm clouds were seen as a nuisance instead of the promise of life that they were. Anyone who was out and about was tucked away in the comfort of their car, while everyone else snuggled up all cozy-like in their homes.
It saddened him, though it angered him, too. He wanted nothing more than the appreciation and respect that he deserved. Yet he would not find it, not here, not anywhere. His sorrow and rage only increased the intensity of the storm. On top of the rain, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, lighting up the sky and shaking the foundations of buildings, respectively.
"Working up quite a storm, aren't we?"
Rain didn't turn from where he sat on the edge of a large fountain. He simply said as his way of recognition, "Pitch."
The Boogieman might have grinned or might have frowned. The rain bringer wasn't bothering to look at him, as antisocial as he was. He suspected it was the former, however, or at the very least a neutral expression. He'd be getting an earful if the Nightmare King disapproved of his lack of proper manners. As it was, Pitch Black was being uncharacteristically quiet.
That did not last long.
"I really must thank you," he murmured. "Your storms always bring about such a fear in children."
It was nice to know that at least someone appreciated his storms, even if it was for the wrong reasons. It was for this reason that he tolerated the Boogieman's presence. Most other spirits he would have actively avoided. But not Pitch. No, Pitch was... okay, aside from his disturbing habit of trying to make him relive his worst nightmares. At least he wasn't doing that.
Yet.
"Happy to be of service," Rain said, though he didn't sound happy at all.
"If only you meant it," Pitch said with a sigh. For a moment, there was silence, but the Nightmare King really wasn't one to stop talking for any extended period of time, so he continued inquiringly, "You're not still upset, are you? That the children don't adore you as they do the Guardians?"
The flash of lightning and subsequent resounding thunder was answer enough.
"Really, rain bringer," Pitch said. "You should know by now that if they had ever intended to love you, they would have done so by now."
Rain finally looked at him. He opened his mouth to protest, perhaps to say, They may one day love me yet, but nothing came out. How could he convince Pitch of this when he couldn't even convince himself? His mouth closed slowly, and he looked away in defeat.
Pitch's subsequent smirk went unseen. Adopting a more sympathetic look and tone of voice, he began, "Rain, how long have we known each other?"
"Centuries," came the answer.
"Yes. We've known each other since a better time, haven't we? The Dark Ages?"
Yes, things had been better in the Dark Ages, for both of them, each for their own respective reasons. People had realized the necessity of Rain's storms back then. They had also been more fearful in a time where their nights were lit up not by streetlights nor nightlights. The time had served both of their purposes well.
"It could be like that again, you know."
Rain raised his head. Though he did not speak, the question was painted very clearly in his eyes: How?
A small smile situating itself on his face, the Boogieman continued by means of explanation, "A Dark Age is in the making. My nightmares have been preparing themselves for decades."
A whinnying above them made the rain bringer look up at the sky, where he saw dark, shadowy horses streaking across the clouds.
Fear panged in his chest, which he was sure the Nightmare King greedily devoured. "You know he hears all?" Rain asked the other spirit, referring to the Moon who, while not visible in the middle of the day, was surely still there, invisible.
Pitch didn't seem particularly concerned. "There will be nothing he or his precious Guardians will be able to do once I've begun."
Rain didn't seem entirely convinced. "You realize you're outnumbered." He didn't dare suggest that Pitch was outmatched.
"Ah, but I've come to remedy that, to some extent," the Boogieman told him, a small smirk on his face.
It didn't take long for Rain to piece two and two together. "You want me to join you."
"Think of the possibilities," Pitch told him. "Together, we can show children what it truly means to fear the storm."
Rain said nothing.
"They'll never want you," the Nightmare King told him bluntly. "You'll never have their love, but you can have their fear. You want their respect, don't you? What better way than to have them fear your power? You'll have them wishing they had simply given you what you deserve long ago."
Pitch took his hand, pulling him to a stand. Normally Rain would have slapped away the hand of anyone trying to touch him, but this time, he did not. Whether he was actually on good enough terms with Pitch Black to allow him to do such a thing or was too lost in the thoughts the nightmare bringer was planting in his head was unclear.
The corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile when he wasn't slapped away, the Boogieman led the rain bringer down the streets. They would look in the windows of the houses they passed by, the children peering out of them longingly, no doubt waiting for the rain to stop. They came to a stop in front of one young boy's house. Rain looked at him silently, the neutrality in his eyes slowly turning into something else. Contempt. He recognized this little boy, one he knew Jack Frost practically shadowed. The thought of the winter spirit made his frown deepen. This little boy - Jamie, he believed was his name - adored the winter snows that Frost brought, yet always tucked himself away when the rain bringer brought his storms.
Pitch, who seemed to be picking up on his train of thought, told him, "You have the power to make him regret not adoring you. What's stopping you?"
Unease built up in his chest. What was stopping him? Perhaps it was some shred of hope that one day the children would see him for what he truly was, a bringer of life and prosperity. But even more than that, he knew that if he so much as laid a harming hand on one of these children, he'd be facing the wrath of...
"The Guardians."
Pitch's eyes darkened, something Rain really didn't want to be on the receiving end of. So he continued on down the road, walking out of town until he came to the lake where he had met Jack long ago. The nightmare bringer followed him.
"Are you afraid of them?" the Nightmare King asked, a predatory gleam in his eyes and the way he smiled.
Yes, Rain didn't want to say, but he was sure the Boogieman could smell his fear anyways, so his lack of a verbal response was hardly a lack of an answer. But more than that, he feared ONE of them more than the others, not unlike the way the nightmare bringer feared the Sandman more so than any of the other Guardians.
"You needn't be," Pitch told him. "With a few lost believers, the Guardians will be reduced to ash. And I know just how to make that happen."
Rain didn't seem convinced. How could anyone so much as put a dent in the strong belief that radiated from the children of the world?
"I have my ways," Pitch answered as if he had read his thoughts.
"Then why do you need my help?" the rain bringer questioned.
Pitch seemed caught off guard by that, if the few moments of silence that followed were any indication.
"Maybe I don't," the Boogieman admitted after a short period of silence. "But I want your help."
"Why?" Rain asked him, confused.
Spreading his hands, the Nightmare King began, "Because maybe I'm tired of being alone. You are too, aren't you?"
The rain spirit averted his eyes. He didn't want Pitch to see whatever might have shone in them.
"You and I? We have been alone all too long, rain bringer. Aren't you growing weary of it? Traversing the land unnoticed, unappreciated by all?" Stepping closer, Pitch brought a hand under the other spirit's chin to lift his head up from where he'd lowered it, forcing eye contact. Rain stepped back away from his touch, but did not look away again. That was all Pitch wanted. "The Guardians aren't the only ones who can join forces," he continued. "We would be stronger together. Nothing could stand up to us."
Rain still wasn't convinced. Turning away from Pitch, he shook his head, holding it in his hands as he said quietly, "I... can't face her again."
The Boogieman scoffed. "The fairy? What is she going to do to you? Put a quarter under your pillow?"
The rain bringer shook his head again. He didn't want to talk about it.
"I know why you fear her," Pitch said, which made a chill run up Rain's spine. "You're afraid that-"
"Then you know why I can't face her," Rain said, turning around to face the Nightmare King, his gaze now holding an angry look that hadn't been present before.
"Is that how you're going to spend the rest of your days, then? Cowering in fear, too afraid to face a little fairy?"
"Like how you're afraid to face a little Sandman?" Rain retorted.
That shut him up. For a few moments, at least. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea talking to the Nightmare King in such a manner, if his narrowed eyes were any indication. When he spoke, it was with a voice laced with poison, "Even he won't be able to stand up to my nightmares. I have made certain of that."
"Then you don't need my help," the rain bringer concluded. "I'm not about to make an enemy of the Guardians."
"As if you haven't already. They don't like you, you know. And why would they? You bring nothing but broken sleep to their precious children with your thunderstorms." Stepping closer to the other spirit again, Pitch continued, "You wouldn't be jeopardizing anything, you don't have anything to lose."
"I don't have to hide under beds," Rain pointed out. "And I intend to keep it that way."
"I won't have to hide from anything once I'm through with the Guardians, and neither will you."
"And if you fail? They'll stamp you out of existence," the rain bringer told him.
"They know better than to stamp me out. Without me, their precious children would be jumping off of rooftops with no regard for their safety. They are aware of my necessity, and yours, too. They can't extinguish us."
"So they'll keep us alive, if just barely." Shaking his head, he said, "I'm not about to risk that sort of existence."
"Rain-"
"I said no!" he shouted, thunder cracking above him at the last shouted word and the rain coming down harder.
To his surprise, instead of wrath, he was met with the most sorrowful expression he had ever seen from the Nightmare King. That sorrow was quickly masked with a look of anger, however. "Very well. Perhaps in time you will come to your senses. Until then..." He turned his head to the side, whistling sharply. At that moment, nightmares seemed to seep out of the ground and from behind the trees and out of the sky. There were hundreds, no, thousands of them.
A twinge of nervousness in his eyes, Rain asked the nightmare bringer, "What are you doing?"
The shadowy form simply shrugged, saying, "If you want to live in fear, that suits me just fine, too." A wide grin splitting across his face, he said, "After all, my nightmares must feed. And a spirit's fear is most... delectable."
The nightmares descended on the rain bringer. His screams were drowned out by the near constant rumble of thunder.