A/N This story takes place in 1850. Jack is 300 years old in 2012 so that makes him... about 138 years old at the time this takes place. Beware, this story contains an awesome original character.

edits made on 6/21/19

THE NIGHT STALKER

There was a freezing wind coming in strong from the north and it ran through the trees so that they rustled and breathed as though they were living things.

It would be the last winter storm before the new spring.

And it marked the beginning of his newest hunt.

The feeling in the air as he strolled leisurely through the small, inconsequential border town about 10 miles outside of Bremen was decidedly calm. It had a small population – less than one hundred – and it was surrounded by a forest that extended outwards in all directions for miles and miles.

The beasts that lived here were a much more superstitious type, far away from more populated and promiscuous places. Consisting mostly of poor farmers with herds of cattle, sheep, and far too many offspring that they couldn't afford to feed, they were an endless source of private entertainment. Ill-educated, small minded, unwanted heathens… creatures that could so easily disappear without any type of community upheaval.

Small villages were on principal wary of strangers and those that walked around alone at night without fear were a subject of immediate conversation. Mankind feared a great many things, most of which they couldn't possibly hope to understand… but their most primitive instincts warned them that evil roamed free during the night.

Fredrik smiled to himself as his keen sense of hearing caught the sound of shutters creaking slightly on their hinges as the wide, fearful eyes of an old broad peered out the tiny crack to follow his lazy progress back down the dark, foggy dirt path that led to the thick cover of ancient trees. His purpose for being in town was finished for now….

The frantic pounding of the broads aging heart was sweet music to his ears and he laughed a soft, low laugh when the shutters were slammed shut moments later and the old cow retreated further into the safety of the house to wait out the rest of the night.

The broad needn't worry, Fredrik thought wryly, swinging his cane loosely in his hand as he walked. He preferred to hunt the younger ones. The old were riddled with disease and sickness and had a decidedly unpleasant taste to them whereas the young were fresh and strong. There were more than enough reasons for the little ones to go missing. The older and presumably more experienced ones were harder to explain. It was convenient that his preference doubled also as a precaution and allowed him to avoid any unwanted attention, even if he never stuck around long enough to be the recipient of suspicion.

It was not as though the stupid beasts would ever actually be capable of the intelligence required to capture him. It didn't matter how much time went by or how much their society changed – they still thought the same way. They still made the same mistakes and they mistakenly believed that they were in control of their surroundings when in reality, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

They were but ants beneath his feet – in comparison to them, he was nothing short of a god.

It was certainly not them that he feared. A good hunter was never seen by his prey until the last possible second, when the kill was certain, and death waited nearby.

The rest of the supernatural world was a somewhat different matter – there were some who could capture him, if they desired. But most of their kind kept to themselves and few truly cared for the mortal world and its pathetic inhabitants.

And those fools who called themselves guardians. They had fallen away from the world years ago, retreating to their sanctuaries and keeping to themselves, ignorant in their belief that the danger of the dark ages had passed. But he, like many others, had kept off their radar while they fought a different battle and was perfectly confident in the knowledge that they knew nothing of his existence.

Fredrik had every intention of keeping it that way.

The night was still young and he made no sound as he walked – a good hunter never did – but nature itself was filled with quiet music, starting with the wind rushing through the trees and the babbling of a nearby river, and finally to the sounds of animals calling out to warn others of his presence. He softly hummed a tune that was older than recent memory, priding himself in the knowledge that he was the most dangerous predator in the world.

He paused mid-step in his stroll, resting the bottom of his cane on the forest ground beneath him and felt his nostrils flare widely as he breathed in a familiar, though entirely unexpected scent.

It was an unpleasant but very distinct smell. A musty, earthy scent that reeked of old urine and rotting meat.

A bear. And by the steady thump-thumping of its large heart, he could tell that it was a big one at that.

He breathed deeply again, shifting his body to the left and stepping silently into the brush. It was male, bordering on middle aged. Though winter had yet to end and spring to make its first appearance, the bear had come out of hibernation early this year and like him, it was searching for its next meal.

Fredrik cared little for the taste of animals and he didn't plan to feast – not tonight, anyways.

But what better way to start his hunt then by provoking fear in his preys measly hearts?

With a satisfied smirk, he pulled off his coat, draping it over a branch of the nearest tree, stepped into the woods, and got to work.

Winter was cold and cruel and dangerous.

Jack Frost was intimately acquainted with every possible definition of winter that was. There was more negativity associated with his season – and thereby himself – then there was positive. It had been such since he'd awaken beneath that frozen lake so very long ago. In the time since, with no one to offer a guiding hand, he had gone on to create a reputation for himself and slowly discovered who he was in the process. For years he had offered all that he found to the world with the hope that someone, anyone at all, would care to notice.

To Jack's ongoing disappointment, no one did.

For reasons unknown to him and not for his lack of trying, there wasn't a single person on this planet that had ever, in over a hundred years of existence, seen him. No human had ever looked in his direction, heard his voice, or felt his presence.

Those of the supernatural world wouldn't abide his company. For various reasons known only to themselves, they all wanted nothing to do with him and over time, he'd learned it was often better to avoid them. They could be cruel, and words hurt more then any injury he'd ever received.

It had been several decades since he'd seen anyone and he'd long since grown used to his solitude.

He had no friends. No family. No purpose for being on this godforsaken planet other then to roam like the scraggy vagabond that he was.

Who was Jack Frost?

He was no one.

And that was okay.

Really.

Jack swung his staff lazily, wandering through a small snow filled meadow without any purpose. He had no destination in mind – he was somewhere in Europe. He'd been wandering across the country for a couple of years now, remaining on foot in order to get the full experience. If he was being honest, he still wasn't sure what that was supposed to be.

He'd seen a lot in his time. He knew he was young for an immortal but he felt old in his heart. The times were beginning to change and while a few decades ago it had been exciting to witness, now it just dulled his heart to witness the slow advancing of the world he was doomed to wander.

Everything changed except for him.

It wouldn't have been so bad, he thought, if there was someone to witness it with. But he was alone, unchanging, constant, in a constantly changing world that he was unable to interact with.

So, he wandered. His depression had hit its peak the year he turned a hundred and thirty-two and from there, Jack decided to do something different with his time. The world was expanding and growing but much of it was still unexplored and he wanted to see it. He'd flown to the Old World, landed in some obscure town outside of Athens, and from there he just walked.

It was grueling, especially in the summertime. He rarely ate and it could be weeks between cities or towns and hearing a voice other then his own. Depending on his mood, which could never seem to make up its mind, he found that he preferred the solitude. With no one around to remind him that he wasn't, Jack could pretend that he was real.

The time to himself and the natural beauty of the countryside and the evidences he found of people and history from long before him was turning out to be an effective distraction from the morbid thought of the eternity that lay ahead.

As it was, he was somewhere in Germany. A month or so ago, he came across some people speaking the language. He didn't understand it himself, but Jack had been around long enough to recognize it for what it was.

The unexpected lowing of a cow turned his head to the left and he paused, considering. He was in one of his better moods and it had been several months since he'd come across any type of civilization. If there were farm animals around here, then a town was probably only a couple of miles away.

I got nothing else to do. He mused, glancing up at the sky. There would be snow tonight – the dark grey storm clouds lingered overhead promisingly, filled to the brim and just waiting for the right moment to fall. It would probably be the last big one before spring finally came around.

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned left towards the woods and the sound of the cow.

It didn't take him very long to find it. It was a brown milking cow and it had a leather collar around its neck with a bell attached that jingled slightly whenever it moved its head to snuff at the shrubs peaking out from the snow-covered ground.

Its soft brown eyes stared past him without seeing as he approached and then circled around it for a moment, eyeing it critically. It was a little thin but seemed well cared for and there was a HJ with a slash through the middle branded on its thigh.

It couldn't be very far from home, then.

Leaving the cow to itself, Jack continued through the woods, lazily tracking the cows shambling path as he walked. After a mile or so, he came across a well-used grazing ground and spotted a few more cows as well as a goat not too far off.

Pleased with himself, he kept going and after walking for a couple of more minutes, he came across a dirt road with recent footprints visible in the light dusting of snow. From the looks of it, multiple people had come through here – six or seven, even.

There was a snap of a twig behind him which he would have ignored except that with it, everything around him went absolutely silent. Everything stopped moving – the twittering of birds, the rustle of the wind through the trees, some turkeys and quail that had been gobbling some distance away. Even those cows and the goat just a few yards off. They'd all sensed something they didn't like.

Jack slowed to a halt, tensing up and tightening his grip on his staff as the irrational thought that he was being watched by someone flashed across his mind.

It wasn't a feeling he was on anyway accustomed too. Nothing ever saw him.

And yet, he spun slowly, looking through the trees with shrewd, cautious eyes and seeing nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a dark, oppressive feeling came over him and he swallowed uneasily, unsure of the source.

And then the feeling was gone just as quickly as it had come. The faint sound of voices broke the eerie silence of the woods and after a few seconds, he heard the jingling of cowbells again and the turkeys gobbled obnoxiously. Jack relaxed slightly and looked up the road, where the tracks led to and after a few more seconds, a group of people came into view.

It looked like a hunting party since the group consisted of older men. They were moving quickly, dressed in warm coats and hats. They were heavy boots on their feet and carried rifles in their hands. The expressions on their beard covered faces told Jack that they were very upset by something.

He stepped aside to avoid being walked through as they drew closer and noted that they carried no game with them.

That must be why they're upset. No game, no dinner.

They spoke in quiet, agitated voices, gesturing between themselves.

"Was könnte das mit einem Bären?"

"Es wurde in Fetzen gerissen!"

„In diesen Wäldern ist etwas Böses."

„Unser Vater, der im Himmel ist, heiligt dich, dein Name..."

The last phrase was muttered by a man who might have been a priest – the was a large cross around his neck, which he was clutching tightly in one hand. He seemed especially stressed and Jack wondered if he came along for luck on the hunt.

Obviously it hadn't done much good, seeing as they were empty handed.

Maybe they were stressed because their God hadn't answered their prayers. If that were the case, Jack sympathized deeply. He knew the pain of speaking to someone who never bothered to answer. It was exhausting and painful and ultimately pointless. If he were able to offer his advice, Jack would tell them to not even bother. Forget religion. Forget deity.

The only one you could rely on was yourself.

Jack fell in step behind them as they passed by, tuning out their whispered conversation to reflect bitterly on his own plight with the Man in the Moon, feeling an old and familiar frustration rise up inside him at the bastards continued silence.

He hadn't bothered to speak to the Moon for a long time and he doubted he would be trying again any time soon. It hurt too much to put so much of himself into something and receive nothing in return and life was painful enough as it was.

In his opinion, Jack didn't think it was too much to ask why he was here. Was it such a terrible crime to want to know why he had been created? What he was supposed to do? Jack didn't think so but the son of a bitch in the sky apparently thought otherwise.

Lost in his musings, Jack didn't realize when the hunting party he was following walked into their village until the broad door of an old church building slammed shut in his face.

Startled, Jack stumbled back, surprised and disgruntled. With a sigh, he turned and took note of his surroundings for the first time in about twenty minutes.

At first glance, the town was similar to many others that he'd come across over the years. Small buildings scattered about here and there, their scanty, sloping roofs covered in snow with icicles hanging off their edges, shimmering when light hit them.

There were fences set up and a few saddled horses were tied to a post outside what Jack assumed was a trading post of some kind.

A stone well was sitting in the middle of town, a large bucket with a rope attached to the handle was sitting on its edge, waiting to be used. A few children lingered nearby, pointing occasionally at the church the men had disappeared into, talking quietly among themselves.

It was nothing exceptionally exciting but it was still something. Glancing around, Jack tried to decide what to do and ended up circling the church for a moment, peeking in through the windows to see what the inside was like. They frosted slightly when his breath hit the panes.

To his faint interest, there were a large number of people inside, sitting at the pews and talking amongst themselves. Town meeting, perhaps. None of them looked especially happy and there was an old women wearing a small wooden cross around her neck in a pew close to Jack's window that seemed particularly distraught.

Must be a real bad winter for these people. Jack thought dully. Food must be scarce for them to be this upset.

Minutely grateful that he didn't require much food and thus had no such problems, Jack turned away, losing interest since there was nothing he could do, and gave the children outside a thoughtful look.

Playing with kids had lost its appeal a long time ago. It only seemed to fuel the reminder that he wasn't real and had become more lonely then entertaining.

But Jack felt something a lot like sympathy awaken in him while looking at the forlorn, uneasy expressions on their faces. He could make an exception… maybe get their minds off whatever was troubling them.

With a sigh, Jack bent down and gathered some snow into his hands, shaped it expertly into a perfect sphere and then carefully chose his target.

He took aim and let his snowball fly, watching as it hit a girl who was probably twelve or so, right in the back, just high enough were ice could drip down her dress.

Jack smirked as she shrieked, turning fiery eyes on the nearest boy, who looked just as startled and started flinging snow at him.

„Du ... du Ratte! Das ist nicht witzig!" She said furiously, still throwing snow at her presumed attacker.

The boy ducked and moved to take cover on the other side of the well.

"Ich war es nicht!" he argued defensively, throwing snow back at her. To Jack's pleasure, some of the other kids had started laughing and he quickly made another snowball and threw it.

It smacked another boy in the face and he stumbled backwards in surprise, the hat that was on his head falling to the ground.

„Dieter, schlag mich nicht!" he cried, glaring at his friend as he snatched up his hat before grabbing some snow in response and furiously patting it into a snowball.

„Bleib dann aus dem Weg!" the boy behind the well responded, ducking once again as the other kids quickly joined it to try and hit him.

Jack ghosted through them, dodging them as they moved quickly for cover and snowballs, and being careful to make sure that everyone got involved with the game that was starting, tossing snowballs as he passed to fuel their interest.

After only a couple of minutes, the previously quiet little town was filled with the sound of children's laughter and despite himself, Jack couldn't help but laugh with them, feeling lighter then he had in a long time as he watched and participated in their antics.

He wasn't certain how much time passed as they played – the snowball fight lasted a while but then tapered off as some of the kids began to make a snowman and others laid back in the snow to make snow angels – but a sharp voice rang out sooner then he would have liked and brought it to an abrupt halt.

"Kinder!"

Glancing up, Jack saw to his disappointment that the meeting in the church was over and adults were piling out.

„Es ist Zeit zu gehen! Bevor es dunkel wird!" A stern looking women said sharply. Jack was surprised by the uneasiness he saw in her eyes and taking a closer look, he saw the same expression on all their faces. The same fear and nervous energy. Many of them were gripping crosses that hung around their necks.

Frowning, Jack watched as the children he'd been playing with were quick to respond, brushing themselves off and quickly finding their parents. The atmosphere darkened once again and the town grew quiet. Everyone almost immediately began heading for their homes.

Jack gasped slightly as a small red-headed girl ran through him. It felt being stuck with thousands of needles all at once and Jack blinked rapidly as the sensation faded. He watched the little girl tug quickly at the skirt of the stern woman, who bent down in reply.

"Geh sofort nach Hause zu deiner Mutter, Girdy. Schnell, bevor die Sonne untergeht." She instructed calmly, pointing towards the edge of town.

„Ja, Frau Becker." Her tiny voice wavered slightly but she smiled a cute dimpled smile as the older women cupped her cheek gently and then gestured for her to go.

She turned and started hurrying up the road on her own, her dark dress fluttering as she ran.

The little girl couldn't have been more then six or seven and Jack saw concern flash across the women's face as she watched her progress for a moment before she quickly crossed herself, shook her head, and hurried another direction.

Snow finally started to fall gently from the sky as the town was deserted and a protective instinct came to life inside of Jack at the idea of the little girl going home alone by herself in bad weather. Turning decisively, Jack sprinted after her, catching up, and matching her pace with ease.

She was cute, Jack noted to himself, and she had been enthusiastic about playing with the others earlier. Long red strands of hair were spilling out from her bonnet and her pretty pale skin was flushed slightly from the cold. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue and Jack had no doubt that she'd be an attractive young lady when she grew older. He smiled sadly to himself, wondering what it would have been like to have a sister.

Fifteen minutes passed between them as Jack couldn't help but mourn the family he didn't have. There wasn't much that could bring his spirits down quicker then that and he shook his head, trying hard to bring his attention back to his little self-appointed charge.

He could mope later, once she was home, he decided. An owl hooted and the chittering of a raccoon reached his ears. The music of the night was starting – he found it comforting but didn't think the little girl felt the same. A nervous expression appeared on her face at the new sounds and she quickened her pace slightly, humming off-key to herself as she walked, tiny puffs of air appearing with each exhale of breath.

Jack felt a little bad when she began to shiver as the wind blew suddenly, sharp and cold, and he waved it off impatiently, directing it another way, and silently urging her to hurry as the snow started falling a little faster.

The light was fading too, he realized – it had been dark and overcast most of the day but the sun was definitely beginning to set. The shadows of the trees around them grew longer by the minute, stretching across the road like fingers reaching out to grab them.

Just as he thought that, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up as the sensation of being watched came over him for the second time that day.

Jack stiffened, glancing around warily for the source and then stopped short when the little girl gasped abruptly, coming to a sudden stop beside him.

Her blue eyes were wide with fear and Jack quickly followed her gaze to the darkening road in front of them, squinting through the falling snow, to see what had frightened her.

Probably just… some… animal…

Jack straightened up slowly, hands tightening around his staff.

There was a man, standing perhaps thirty feet in front of them in the middle of the dirt road, blocking their way.

The idea that the man was her father came and went quickly as he took a few steps towards them and the little girl responded by taking several steps backwards, breath hitching in fear.

He had red eyes.

Jack raised his staff in front of him and those red eyes flickered to him angrily.

It could see him. The realization surprised him but there was no joy in it. However much like a man this thing looked, it couldn't be human.

There was hatred in those eyes and the malevolent expression on the mans (things) face was nothing short of terrifying. It was like looking into hell and Jack couldn't help but step back in both surprise and fear, maintaining enough of his senses to keep the little girl behind him but not knowing what else to do. His instincts were screaming at him to get the hell out of here and away from this thing.

Its red eyes flickered from him for a moment, focusing on the little girl with an expression of terrible want.

It was waiting for her. He realized quickly, eyes widening with the realization.

„Wächter." The man hissed, revealing sharp front canines as he stepped forward again purposefully. His coat billowed out behind him as another gust of wind blew through and Jack saw that he (it) carried a fancy looking cane in one hand.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded, allowing his staff to glow with power. The man (thing) drew back from it slightly, lip curling in obvious distaste.

He (it) eyed him furiously for a moment before, to Jack's complete surprise, it disappeared.

Vanished in the blink of an eye.

Jack spun frantically, looking around for him (it) and seeing absolutely nothing.

"What the hell?" He breathed, frightened. Where did it go? How could it just disappear like that?

He took a few small, uncertain steps forward, casting his eyes for any sign of movement. It was harder to see now that the sun had gone down and though he hadn't been afraid of the dark in decades, Jack found himself wishing desperately for daytime.

The little girl screamed just as he sensed movement behind him and he spun only to be struck in the face with unbelievable force that sent him flying into a tree, his staff flying out of his hand. He collapsed against the ground, unable to breathe and he had no time to react before he felt strong hands grab at his shirt and lift him, slamming him into the tree again. The force of it jarred his entire body and through the pain, Jack could have sworn he felt his bones cracking. He blinked hazily and saw sharp canines and red eyes. The thing was grinning evilly at him, a hateful, malicious look that would have frightened the most hardened warrior.

It's a damn vampire. Jack realized stupidly, too stunned from shock and pain to react.

One hand loosen itself from his shirt and grabbed his face tightly and Jack had enough time to want to recoil at the cold, dead, repulsive sensation of being touched by the vampire, before his head was being bashed against the tree repeatedly.

It was a sharp, agonizing pain and he couldn't wasn't able to recognize when it stopped and he was dropped like a sack of potatoes on the ground.

Jack blinked against the pain in his head, vision blurring sickeningly. He groaned, adrenaline surging and he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling slightly and leaning on the tree for support.

Another scream of fear split the air and Jack lurched, scrambling forwards before realizing he didn't have his staff and looking frantically around him. He found it quickly and turned toward the vampire once again in time to see it reaching for the little girl who was now back up against a tree a little farther up the road, cowering in fear away from a hand whose fingers looked like claws.

She had tried to run away.

"HEY!" Jack shouted furiously, racing towards them, throwing a sharp icicle with deadly accuracy straight into the vampire's spine but to his surprise, it passed through its body as though it were simply air, flying fast into the night.

The vampire recoiled from the little girl anyways, turning on him in anger. Its expression was murderous. The little girl took the opportunity to get to her feet and start running again, tears streaming down her face as she screamed words Jack couldn't understand into the night.

Jack moved quickly, positioning himself determinedly between her and the vampire. He let his staff glow brightly as he remembered its earlier aversion, holding it high in front of him and advanced slowly forwards. The vampire snarled terribly, hissing and spitting with anger as it lifted a hand to shield its eyes and took a few small steps back. It didn't have a shadow.

"Don't like the light, do you?" Jack sneered, thrusting his staff forward and watching as it flinched back again, growling lowly in its throat.

It was an evil sound, inhuman and wrong. Its red eyes stared past Jack for a few moments, tracking its prey possessively.

"You're not getting the girl." Jack warned lowly.

The vampire hissed at him, edging sideways, trying to move out of Jack's light and resume its hunt. Jack's stomach lurched, tightening in unholy fear as a dark looming figure appeared out of the corner of his eye, lunging towards him and he turned instinctively to block the attack, firing an icy response only for there to be nothing at all.

Cursing and confused, Jack immediately spun around again to face the real threat but the damage had been done. A massive black dog stood in place of the vampire, snarling ferociously at him. Its eyes gleamed red and Jack had only a moment to brace himself as it leaped, tackling him and knocking him down. Sharp teeth tore at his right shoulder and shook it violently and Jack shouted in pain, pushing and beating it back with his fists. An icy dagger formed in his left hand but it didn't seem to do any damage at all, passing in and out of the dogs body smoothly as he tried to stab it.

Dropping that, he twisted his body just right to make room for the length of his staff and then whipped it across the dogs snarling face, smacking it with as much strength as he could muster. To his surprise, it yelped loudly in pain and Jack took the opportunity to scramble backwards, lifting off the ground and retreating, taking refuge in a tree, breathing erratically.

His shoulder was torn up and blood flowed down the front of his white shirt but he paid it to mind, hyper-focused on the vampire beneath him, watching it intensely.

The black dog recovered quickly and was staring up at him, giving him a baleful look. There was a promise in its red eyes and Jack knew with absolute certainty that it had every intention of killing him.

He couldn't help it - he smiled. That made for two of them.

Jack braced himself as it took a deliberate step towards him but then it stopped, glancing up at the sky and confused, Jack looked up as well.

Golden light was appearing through the clouds and snow.

The Sandman, going about his rounds.

He glanced down at the dog and saw it give him one last furious look, red eyes gleaming with hatred before turning swiftly and sprinted off into the forest. Jack stood up and launched himself into the air, racing after it, unwilling to let it get away even though he had no idea how to kill the damn thing. After a few minutes, it became apparent that it was gone. Disappearing into the darkness as though they were one.

Maybe they were.

He paused for a moment, hovering in the air and breathing heavily.

It was strong in the dark. The idea scared him more then he cared to admit and nothing he had done had any real physical effect. The pulsing throb in his head became apparent the longer he didn't move and after a moment, he clutched at his injured shoulder, groaning. Warm blood spilled over his hand and he could feel the shredded flesh beneath his fingers.

Reluctantly, he realized he wouldn't be any good in a fight – not now, not in this condition.

Jack turned back, flying for the road again and then following it a ways until he came across a small cottage, visible in the night thanks to the golden strands of light stretching across the sky. A candle was burning in the window and he landed unsteadily on the ground, bracing himself against the stone wall of the cottage and finally looking inside.

There was the little girl, clutching the skirt of who Jack presumed to be her mother, crying hysterically.

The women was consoling her, holding her closely, and listening as the little girl tearfully tried to explain what had happened. Then, as Jack watched, breathing chaotically, she stood up and crossed herself before quickly moving to close all the shutters.

Jack let out a sigh of relief and moved to sit up on the roof, adrenaline still pumping furiously through his system. He'd take care of his arm tomorrow – it hurt like hell but it certainly wasn't going to kill him. At least he hoped not – he wasn't sure what a vampire bite would do to him. Guess he'd find out. For now, he stared determinedly out into the night, holding his staff defensively, and watching for any sign of movement.

He was scared and for the first time in a long time, the darkness of night terrified him.

But he wasn't going anywhere.

Not for a while.

The people in this town were under his protection now and tomorrow, he was going hunting.

Fredrik wanted to howl with rage at the loss of his hunt. He'd planned it so perfectly, so carefully – all for nothing. Never in his existence had he been interrupted or caught so off-guard.

But that thief, that commander of the season, Jack Frost, had done just that. He had stopped him mid-hunt. The winter brat had somehow realized he was there, identified who had been chosen as his prey, and waited for him to appear.

He didn't understand how that was was his mistake? What had given him away?

He didn't know and the lack of knowledge infuriated him.

Fredrik had heard whispers, rumors of the solitary spirit but that he was one of those filthy guardians - for what else could he be - had escaped his knowledge. The light about the frost imp was so bright that it hurt, it burned his skin worse than the noonday sun.

He wanted to make that guardian pay for stealing what was his. Oh, he wanted to make him suffer for the loss of his prize.

But the other guardians would know of his existence now and would surely retaliate. He would have to plan his revenge carefully. It would take time but that was okay. He could be patient.

In the meantime, every child he hunted, every child that Jack Frost should have been protecting, would suffer for his crime - his theft, his thievery. They would be the ones to pay the price for that guardian until the time came that he could exact his revenge.

Death would not be quick, not anymore. They would suffer through whatever torture he wanted them to, live long enough to feel him draining them of every single drop of blood in their miserable little bodies.

And the name Jack Frost would be the last thing they ever heard and he would relish their screams of utter terror and fear at the sound of their guardians' name.

Finished.

Dudes. I've literally been trying to finish this thing for years. Inspiration struck last night and after six hours of typing and editing, I finally did it. Yay me.

The titled is from my source of inspiration for this story, the 1972 mystery/thriller, The Night Stalker. My dad made me and my siblings watch it as kids - scared the crud out of us for the longest time. I highly recommend it.

Fredrik's abilities are based of Bram Stoker's Dracula, which happens to be my favorite book. He's insanely strong (Jack gets thrown into a tree), can shapeshift into different animals (black dog), can't be harmed by conventional means in the nighttime (Jack stabbing him with no effect) but can be hurt in the daylight or if he's sleeping. He can cause people to hallucinate or see illusions (Jack gets distracted by someone who isn't there), and of course, hates the sunlight (Jack's own inner light caused him pain), among many other awesome things. Jack's staff caused him pain for two reasons - its the conduit of Jack's power and that kid can pack a hell of a punch (battle against Pitch) and vampires can be killed by staking them in the heart with wood. Jack's staff = wood, therefore, it hurt him a little because I said that it could. (you technically also have to cut off their heads and fill their mouths with garlic, but that's okay). I also highly recommend that you read Dracula - it's fantastic.

I thought it would be interesting if something innately evil were able to recognize that Jack was a guardian long before Jack himself did. Vampires are the epitome of evil and sensitive to things are innately and wholly good. I like to think the guardians emit a slightly different vibe then other beings do, thus, Jack himself gives off the same aura. Fredrik definitely misunderstands why Jack was there and he's also extremely petty and pissed about things not going his way.

Jack is definitely depressed in this - he's been having a rough time and I imagine over the course of his life that he goes through phases of being okay and being really NOT okay. This is one of them. And seriously, he'd old - he's got to different things with his time so why not walk across Europe for a couple of years? It's not like we all haven't wanted to do something similar. One day, I want to walk across the US. #bucketlistgoals

For the record, Jack's thoughts on religion and God/deity are not my own, though I sympathize deeply with those who feel disconnected from that sort of thing. I've been there myself and it's a sucky feeling.

Lastly, if you weren't able to pick up on it, the people in the town were not worried about food, like Jack thought. They suspect they are being stalked by something that has the strength to mutilate a massive bear and are freaking out about it but Jack doesn't know that so neither do you. :)

Thanks for reading and indulging my ramblings here at the end. Please leave a review before you go - I'm super interested in your thoughts.

DragonflyonBreak