A/N: Eep! People read it! I mean, they actually read it! (in case you couldn't tell, this is the first fanfiction I've actually never written) I can't thank everyone enough for reading and reviewing! I'm not exactly sure how long this is going to be, so. ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians. Or Jack or Sandy.
The Sandman crouched above an unconscious Jack Frost, worrying his hands and unsure of what to do. He briefly entertained the idea of taking him to another one of the Guardians, one who would have a much less trying time explaining matters to him. Maybe after he woke up, but not while he was so fired up. Jack possessed the unbridled passion that only a child could, and he was the only Guardian whose emotions dictate his powers—not to mention the weather. Left in a rage is how a new ice age could come about. Sandy dully noted the gray masses swirling overhead: snow clouds.
An unforeseen or sudden blizzard could trap people in their homes or strand cars on the highway. It wouldn't do any good for the impish winter spirit either, earning him only quips about his (lack of) responsibility from Bunnymund, well-meaning lectures from North, and those deeply cutting looks of disapproval from Toothiana.
Sandy touched down on the ground and put his hand against Jack's shoulder, rousing him into a violent and short-lived fit of thrashing. His eyes opened wide in confusion and the unintelligible fear of waking up on a cement roof in night. The short man put his free hand on his friend's other shoulder and held him firmly.
Jack Frost's eyes narrowed to The Sandman's placid gaze, and then he began to glower as a sand picture appeared above his head: a small roaring flame of gold and a fire extinguisher sweeping at the licking blaze.
"Cool it?" Jack echoed. "Don't give me that, Sandy," he mumbled with pursed lips and swept a hand through the image to distort it. "I was working on that." The boy's insidious grin slid through the air like a dagger with a glint.
Back at the little girl's house, Jack had in fact leapt for the man. He'd gone right through him, of course, this wasn't Burgess. The window flew open behind him, startling the temporal pair with spring-time sleet. Even though he'd barely had the time to hastily freeze a solid coating of ice over the dread-inducing door before Sandy's sand crept up from behind, the other Guardian not daring to enter the wakeful family's home.
Recalling the events from before he dropped like a brick only made Jack angry all over again. Fuming, Jack stood and picked up his staff from where it lay on the rooftop beside him, and there was a beat of silence as he waited for his portly friend to explain himself. When the only moves made by the Sandman were to hoist himself back into the air and a sand picture of a skull and crossbones with icicles hanging from them, Jack shivered.
"Jeez, are you the Guardian of dreams or nightmares?" he asked, an expression close to amusement flashing across his features as he leaned against his staff, still a bit drowsy from the sleep sand. He understood the other perfectly. He thought Jack would've killed that…guy. Guy was wrong, that monster. Sandy thought Jack would've killed that monster. Jack knew perfectly well though that he wasn't a killer, especially not in front of little girls, and not even when someone deserved it. But…
But had he known that as he jumped for him? What exactly had he been about to do? Jack wasn't precisely sure how to answer, and his grudge thawed and melted away with a defeated sign. At least, he wasn't so angry at the sleep spirit anymore.
"Okay…" he allowed, nodding to himself as his gaze wandered to the waxing crescent moon over the hills. "What would you have done, Little Man?"
Excited to be asked his opinion—that didn't actually happen a lot, since nobody could understand him—he raised his hands and started gesturing. After a moment he realized he didn't truly know what to say, and his face fell, his shoulders slouched, and he threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Huh?" Jack asked mockingly from atop his balanced staff. "Didn't quite catch that." He cupped a hand to his ear as if straining to hear. He wasn't watching his friend anymore, even if he was floating right in front of his face to ensure being seen. Blue eyes searched houses below, looking for the little black-haired girl's window. With a contemplative look on his face, he shoved his fellow Guardian out of the way to continue his hunt.
"We have to go back," he said decidedly, suddenly serious. Swiftly his sandy companion covered his field of vision, waving his hands back and forth, a small pyrotechnic show and circles with slashes through them danced over his head. Clearly, 'going back' was a Guardian no-no. There were too many of those to count, and Jack found most of them meaningless anyway, so he disregarded the flamboyant gesture and hopped of his staff, catching it in his hand as he began to blow away.
The roof lit up, a golden wall inches from Jack's face as he skidded—can you skid while flying?—to a stop. Touch it, and he'd be knocked out again, which only meant more time lost and a double-headache. Whirling around, the petite teenager found three additional walls and, hey, look at that: a roof atop a roof. Go figure. The Sandman hovered behind him at eyelevel with his hands firmly on his hips.
"Sandy," Jack ground out between his teeth. "We don't have the time for this. That little girl…please," he begged, gesturing to the wall. "We have to help her. Who knows what that…man." Monster, he mentally corrected himself. "Who knows what that man is doing to her as we just sit here—"
Sandy cut him off with a signal, putting on a nightcap, using his hands as an impromptu pillow, Z's of every size floating upwards and dissipating before they had the chance to hit the ceiling.
"They're asleep?" Jack confirmed. Sandy nodded. The walls around them exploded lightly and glittered out of existence. The Guardian of fun wasn't exactly trusted, as golden fingers curled around the frozen fabric of Jack's hoodie like a tether.
Jack was on a slippery slope, so to speak, and the wrong articulation would land him face-first on the cement, dreaming of snow angels and glaciers. He chose his words carefully. "He'll wake up. He's going to wake up and probably blame her for not closing the window." The Sandman looked exhausted and sad, even dipping a little in height. "I'm a Guardian now." His pale lips didn't only form the words, but he felt conviction behind them, like a snowball rolling down a hill, always gaining momentum. "So let me guard this girl."
Sandy, obviously at a loss for pictures and anxiously glancing at the continuously-rising moon—he had a job that needed to be done before morning—he pointed northward and what looked like a barbershop pole appeared. His eyes were pleading.
"But…" The mischievous little sprite looked dismayed. "But what if something happens before I get back…" A small crease formed between his eyebrows and he stared intently at the ground. A dream-clock appeared where he watched, surrounded by more Z's and the hands were spinning. Counting along, Jack noticed that they stopped at seven am.
"They'll sleep until then?" Another nod from the Sandman. "'Kay, Sandy," he said, grumpily. "I'll go talk to North, but no promises after that."
His friend didn't look happy, but didn't protest (that Jack saw) as the thin boy leapt into the air, top speed to an unsuspecting Santa's Workshop.
A/N: I know, I know, not a lot happened in this chapter. If you'd like to see me go somewhere with this story, please comment and let me know! I've got no real vision, my hands just type away and whatever happens, happens. I'd love to hear what you want to read. Comments of any kind are helpful. Tell me what I can do better!?