The first thing Pitch noticed when he woke up was that he was cold. The next thing he noticed, as he snuggled down into the blankets that covered him –

Blankets?

Pitch's eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed. Not his bed. It was far too comfortable, for one thing, and covered in red and green flannel sheets. He took a slow, careful look around the room as he woke up fully and realized that he was most definitely not in his bed or in his lair. There was far too much wooden furniture, cheerful patterned wallpaper, and decorative knick-knacks for it to be his lair or anything remotely close to it.

"North," he hissed.

He shot out of bed and grabbed the handle of the room's door, giving it a forceful tug. It was surprisingly not locked, and it slammed against the wall in a satisfying manner. The hallway was empty, but Pitch heard a familiar jingle.

He looked down. Two elves were holding a tray of cookies and milk. They held it up to him encouragingly.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way," Pitch growled. The elves, not bright even by their species' standards, still had enough self-preservation to drop the tray with a clatter and run away.

Pitch's glower faded a fraction of a notch. That was better. He stalked down the hallway, fists clenched. How dare North kidnap him and bring him here! Wasn't it enough that he had been defeated? North had to bring him here and further humiliate him? Weakened state or not, he was going to wring that oversized elf's neck and burn his workshop to the ground!

He wasn't entirely unsurprised to find Jack Frost waiting for him at the end of the hallway. "Well, well, if it isn't the Boy Wonder," Pitch sneered. "Here to do North's dirty work, hmm? Tell me, has he forgiven you yet for your stupidity? Or are you so happy to finally have a family that you'll follow his orders regardless?"

Jack didn't rise to the bait. If anything, he looked amused. "Sleep well, Pitch? North wants to see you."

"Oh, he does?" He raised his hands, intending to form a scythe of darkness. "And you're going to take me?"

"Nope," Jack replied gleefully. A pair of huge, furry arms grabbed Pitch around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. He had just enough to time to gasp in surprise before he was hauled onto a furry shoulder. "He is."

A yeti. Pitch kicked his legs in vain, but it was like trying to fight a hairy couch. "Unhand me, you overgrown hairball!" He shouted as he was carried away. The yeti grumbled something in its alien language and continued its loping pace. Something like, "This is for all those eggs I had to paint. Twice."

Pitch caught a glimpse of Santa's workshop – ridiculously busy this time of year – before he was carried into what looked like an office. The yeti unceremoniously plopped him into a chair and then left, shutting the door behind him. Pitch took a moment to brush the fur off his robes before looking up.

North was standing in front of his desk, looking unusually anxious. Jack stood next to him, along with Tooth. Bunny was there too, albeit a bit further away. Nobody looked gleeful, as he had imagined them the night before. Quite the opposite, in fact.

His anger quieted at the sight of their somber faces, well aware of the imbalance of power. "Hey, hey, the gang's all here," he crooned, covering up his nervousness with a nasty smile. Except that wasn't exactly true, now that he thought about it. "And what do I owe the pleasure of your esteemed company?"

"Well, Pitch," North sighed, talking for the group as he often did. "We have problem that we need to talk about."

"Problem?" Pitch echoed in North's accent before adding icily, "The only problem I see here is that you removed me from my realm without my consent and dragged me unwillingly to your over-rated toy store."

North sighed. "Well, yes, but there is good reason for doing so –"

"Hey, I was fine leaving you where you were," Bunny interrupted, his expression baleful. "After all you put us through—"

"Bunny." North raised his voice. "Please not to be interrupting."

"He ruined Easter! I'm still cleaning up eggshells from my burrows."

"I know you're mad, Bunny, I am too," Tooth interjected, fluttering over to lay a consoling hand on the giant rabbit's shoulder. "But look at him. Even if we hadn't talked to Manny, we couldn't just leave him like this."

"WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON!" Pitch shouted, patience gone and outrage at being ignored boiling over. The full attention of the guardians upon him once more, he took a deep breath and added with slightly less volume, "And what do you mean look at me? Like what? Leave me like what?"

The guardians exchanged worrisome glances and Pitch unconsciously shivered. Just cold, he told himself, although that silent look spoke volumes. Finally, Jack rolled his eyes and headed over to the wall. "You guys, always over-thinking things," he sighed, not unfondly, and took a dinner plate-sized mirror off its hanging and then handed it to Pitch. "Here. Look at yourself."

Pitch glared. What is this, some kind of therapy session? He snatched the mirror from Jack's icy hands and looked at his reflection.

He stared. And stared. And stared.

His reflection was human.

"No," he said, his voice weak. It was him all right – the same jet black hair, the same golden eyes, the same beaked nose and gaunt, angled cheeks. But his skin was white, not gray, and his cheeks had a warm, healthy blush.

He exhaled, and his breath fogged the mirror.

"No," he repeated. He lowered the mirror all the way to floor and set it down, afraid he'd break it. He was shaking so badly. "This is a trick. A trick mirror. You're trying to trick me."

"It is no trick," North said, somewhat sadly. "You are human now, Pitch."

"NO!" Pitch raised his hands, once again intending to form his shadow scythe, but nothing happened. No surge of power, no dark shadows coalescing around him, nothing.

His hands. Pitch stared at them. His fingers were still long and thin, but not inhumanly so, and he could see the veins just underneath the skin.

Veins. A pulse.

He had a pulse.

Pitch threw his head back and laughed, a miserable bone-chilling cackle that made the guardians wince, not that he could see or cared about their expressions. It was either laugh or cry, and for a terrifying moment he thought he would do both, but slowly his sanity returned and his laughter died down to a harsh wheeze.

He kept his head down while Tooth explained that she found him outside the entrance to his realm, asleep but becoming hypothermic in the chilly night air, so she brought him to North's.

"Why were you even looking for me in the first place," Pitch muttered, gaze on the floor, cheeks burning in humiliation at the thought of Tooth of all people carrying him to safety.

"Well," North answered, "That is other part of the problem." He coughed awkwardly. "You are not the only one to have turned human."

Pitch looked up sharply at that. He saw Bunny shift his stance, as if pushed lightly. The spirit of Easter looked behind him in concern. "You sure, mate?" he asked softly, then nodded and stepped to the right.

Behind him stood a man, short and plump, with wild blond hair and wearing what looked like gold pajamas. He stayed close to Bunny, as if ready to hide behind him again at any second. His warm amber eyes met Pitch's golden ones and the former King of Nightmares gasped, dumbfounded.

"Sandman," he whispered. His heart dropped, and for a fleeting moment he thought, Oh, no. Not you, too.

And then, like a fountain bubbling out of a deep spring, he began to laugh again. Louder and louder, until he was clutching his sides in agony. Oh, this was too rich. Too rich by half. The Guardian of Dreams, his greatest enemy, a mere human! Bunny put a protective paw on Sandman's head and the other guardians glared at him, but he didn't care. If he was going to have a morsel of delight in this endless buffet of despair, he was going to savor it for as long as he could.

His laughter faded and he sat back up, wiping at his eyes and feeling marginally better. "At least that's one bit of good news," he chuckled, pointedly ignoring the hurt look on Sandman's face. He absently smoothed out his robes. "Now, then. Do any of you idiots have any idea why this happened?"

Bunny and Jack bristled at the insult, but North seemed unperturbed. "Manny –"

"Man in the Moon," Tooth interrupted, for Pitch's benefit.

"I know what his insipid nickname is," Pitch grumbled.

North continued on, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Manny explained to us that when two souls make a wish at same time, without one another knowing, a very powerful magic happens. This magic can only be undone when wish is granted."

Pitch listened silently. "So what's the wish?" he asked.

The guardians looked at one another uneasily. Pitch felt his anger rising once more. "You mean to tell me that two little brats made a wish so powerful that Sandman and I are human and you don't even know what it is?" His voiced quavered dangerously and he clutched the arms of his chair to avoid jumping out of it. "It could be anything! A hot air balloon ride, a lifetime supply of taffy, world peace—"

His face paled and he sank back into his seat. Oh gods, if it was world peace then he was really screwed.

"Cut us some slack, Pitch," Jack admonished. "We only found out about this a couple of hours ago. We're trying as hard as we can to figure out how to fix this."

"Certainly not for your sake," Bunny added.

Pitch ignored the slight. "Wait a minute. If Sandman is human, then how are any children still dreaming?" He hadn't missed the bright pinpoints of light on North's globe, as strong as ever.

"Sandman's sand is still at work, it's just relying completely on the children," Tooth replied. "My girls have been keeping an eye on it. This close to Christmas, the dreams seem to be doing okay."

That was oddly disappointing. "So what am I supposed to do while you solve this problem? Sit here and eat cookies?"

North laughed, a booming jolly sound that made Pitch jump a little in his seat. "Nonsense. Santa's workshop is no place for mortals, especially not during busy season! But we have things covered, Pitch. We found place for you and Sandman to stay until you return to normal."

"How thoughtful of—wait." Pitch looked over at Sandman, who was looking far too innocent to be believed. "What do you mean me and Sandman? Where are you sending us?"

"Burgess," Jack answered, and Pitch gagged. "No, I'm serious! Jamie and the other kids believe in us so strongly that we can get you settled there without any problem."

"You want me to live. In Burgess. With humans." He looked at Sandman again. "And you? Was this your idea, old man?"

Sandman opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Pitch blinked, and then snickered. "Oh, dear. You're completely mute as a human!" His snicker turned to a cackle, and Sandman glowered at him. "The Guardian of Dreams, a pathetic, fat little –"

He didn't get to finish his insult as Sandman came rushing at him and crashed into his chest, knocking the both of them over. His little hands slapped Pitch's face several times before he was hauled away by Bunny. "Easy, mate, easy! You're both human now, you could break something!"

Pitch got back to his feet. Sandman was still struggling in Bunny's arms, looking furious. It'd be hilarious if his face didn't hurt so much. "I apologize," he purred. "Your weight is clearly an advantage in your current state."

Bunny hissed at the insult but Sandman stopped struggling and – was he grinning? That was even worse than the slapping. "Pitch," North boomed, looking serious, "It is for your own good that you live with Sandman in Burgess until we fix things."

"I am not living with humans," Pitch replied flatly, smoothing back his hair. "I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged," Bunny rumbled, putting down Sandman and cracking his furry knuckles.

"Bunny!" Tooth admonished, and the guardians began arguing over Pitch's fate once more.

Sandman suddenly grabbed the mirror from the floor and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. The crashing sound startled everyone, Pitch included, and the little man walked over to Pitch in complete silence. Taking out a notepad and a pen from inside his pajama pocket, he wrote one word and held it up to Pitch.

Please.

Pitch looked from the writing to Sandman. His eyes, human but otherwise unchanged, stared back at him without malice and just a touch of hope.

Pitch rubbed a hand over his face. "Fine," he sighed. "Fine. But while we're there, you simpletons better be doing everything in your power to free us from this ridiculous curse."

"Wish," North replied, tension gone from his face, replaced with a relieved smile. "It was a wish."

"Whatever," Pitch muttered, looking away.