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Dizappearingirl: I'm so very, very glad that you like this story, and I too was sad to do this to the Burgess kids. But it also too perfect a role for them for me not to it ;) And no, there will be no ghostie brothers. I loved it in the movie, but I couldn't quite make it work for my storyline.

Sorry for the delay, everyone, school has been whooping my butt. But here you are, enjoy.

It was raining heavily by the time Jack and the horse came in sight of the inn, and Jack was soaked to the bone. He shivered as he soaping cloak clung to his body, offering no protection from the increasing down pour and the icy wind, and studied the approaching inn. It was a good sized building, very squared in it shape with two floors and many warmly lit windows. The sign hanging just out front displayed the outline of a black horse rearing on its hind legs under the words 'Night Inn'. Jack smiled at that and patted the neck of the black horse he was currently astride. If that wasn't a sign that he was in the right place, Jack didn't know what was.

That, and going into the inn was much warmer than staying outside. So all in all, it was a no brainer for Jack to make his way over to the inn. Jack dismounted and gave the horse another pat as he limped to the door. It opened before Jack could even knock, bathing him in a wave of warmth, just as he covered a sneezed with the back of his hand. The woman inside gave a delicate gasp at the sight of him.

"Oh dear, come in, out of this retched rain!" She fussed over him as she gently ushered him inside.

Jack followed her without resistance, only sending a quick glance behind him as he went. He felt a small twinge of guilt and unease for leaving without the giant rabbit, but he cast it aside as the woman wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"You poor dear," she cooed. "You're wet to the bone and shaking like a leaf. And look at you're poor little leg."

"Yeah, I seem to have twisted it." Jack smiled shyly.

He liked this woman; she as sweet, if a bit scatter-brained. She reminded him of some of the mothers he'd seen over the years and it made he him feel at ease around her.

"Well, don't you worry. I'll draw you a bath and have my husband fix you a room. A nice hot bath and good night's sleep will fix you right up."

"Oh, no. I really don't want to be a bother."

"Nonsense," a new voice sounded.

Jack turned to examine the man as he made his way over to them. A sudden chill ran down Jack's spine at the sight of him and he found the man a bit frightening, for some reason that he couldn't really put his finger on. He was tall, with dark hair and sun-kissed skin and a pair a silver-gold eyes. Nothing that should have made Jack as uneasy as he was, but still….

"We live to serve our customers," the man continued with a bright smile, and suddenly Jack felt quiet foolish for feeling so afraid. Jack offered his own smile.

"I do appreciate this, sir."

"Think nothing of it. And it's Peter."

"I'm Jack," the boy said, offering his hand. The innkeeper shook it firmly and gave Jack another warm smile.

"Welcome to my inn, Jack. Darling," Peter turned to the woman, who was still fussing over Jack, "why don't you draw the boy a bath, and sprinkle in some herbs for that limp."

"Of course. Come along, my dear. Let's get you out of those soaping clothes."

Jack let the woman pull him along while the man made his way to the open door. He made eye contact with the dark horse that stood guard outside, and he smiled. Unlike the grins that had made Jack feel so at ease, this smirk was full of sharp, jagged teeth and predatory intent. He gave a nod to the Nightmare, and gently shut the door.

'Easy,' he though with another grin, 'much, much too easy'. Then he slipped back into the role of innkeeper as he turned back to the boy-star. Getting the star here may have been easy, but now came the hard part of making Jack feel comfortable. He needed the boy at peace, and his heart aglow before he could fill it with fear. Only then could he cut it out of the boy's little chest.

-Line Break – Dun Dun Duuuuuuun! – Line Break-

Back in the woods, Aster lay in the same position against the tree, twitching restlessly as nightmares snared his sleeping mind. The nightmare started out the way all of his bad dreams did; with the death of his people.

He remembered that it was the smell of smoke, of burning homes and burning flesh, that woke him. It confused him at first, when Aster pulled himself groggily out of sleep. He just sat blinking in confusion until the sounds of screaming brought him to full awareness. It had scared him, the terrible shrilled screams sounding outside his door. He was just a child, not even ten years old, and he was scared. So he stayed huddled in his nest for what felt like hours, curled in tightly on himself and trembling. Then his father busted into the room and he jumped with a yelp before giving a relived shout.

"Papa!" Aster reached up for him, seeking the safety of his father's embrace.

The elder Pooka, Eamon Aster, rushed forward and scooped his son up into his arms without a word. Then he dashed outside, keeping Aster's face buried in his shoulder the best he could as he went. But still, Aster could see glimpses of shadow monsters flying around the village, and flashes of flaming houses. The child hid his face more firmly when he caught sight of the bodies scattered around them and he clutched to his father for comfort. He tried to hold back tears and fold his ears against the dying screams that rang out throughout the village as his father ran.

When Eamon came to a stop and tried to loosen Aster's arms from around his neck, the child Pooka only clung tighter.

"Aster, I need ya ta let go."

"Don't leave me, Papa," Aster sobbed as he clutched his father's neck even tighter.

"I swear I'll come back for you, Aster, but I need to find yer mum and brother. So ya need ta stay here so I know yer safe. Alright?"

The child nodded in understanding, but his bottom lip still trembled.

"I'm scared, Papa."

Aster finally let his father put him down and place him in the shadows of a hollowed tree. Eamon stroked the child's ears comfortingly, knowing that the way they were folded tightly against his head showed that the child was deeply terrified and uneasy. He continued the gentle touch until Aster's frightened trembles subsided. Then he nuzzled the center of on his son's brow comfortingly.

"It'll be okay, Aster," he said gently, "I promise. Now, stay here, and stay quiet. I'll be back soon." Edmond rearranged two bushes in front of the tree so that Aster was completely hidden, then he dashed off again.

Aster peeked out from the gaps between the leaves and watched with pride as his father mowed through a number of the shadow monsters as he ran. Eamon stopped for a moment to guide a mother and child, ones that the monsters had been harassing, to safety before he moved to destroy more of the monsters. The child silently cheered with a small smile as he watched. These monsters were in so much trouble now, his father was going to take them all down. Aster grin and gave a little shake as a victory dance when his father tore through another one of the monsters.

Then the blood drained from his face as a decidedly more solid shadow, this one hunched in on itself as it awkwardly limped, slinked up behind his father. Aster opened his mouth to shout a warning, despite his father's order to stay quiet, but he was too late. The shadow figure plunged his weapon into Eamon's back, and Aster let out a breathy shriek as his father crumpled to the ground. The figure whirled around at the sound and Aster shrank further into the shadows of the tree as he caught sight of a pair of golden eyes. Those eyes swept over his hiding spot for a short while, glinted with cruelty. When he found nothing, the figure turned to address his shadow monsters.

"Kill them all. Destroy every one of them." With that the figure stumbled off, and the shadow creatures darted off once more. Then the screams started up again, louder than ever before.

Aster wept silently, and stared at his father's still form and the blood pooling around him. Then he curled in on himself and, unable to look any longer, he hid his face in his knees, and stayed like that until the screaming stopped. He hid; that was the thing that haunted Aster most about that day. He didn't try to fight the monsters, didn't try to find help, didn't do anything but hide in the bushes like a coward while everyone around him died.

After a long while, when everything had been silent for what felt like hours, Aster climbed out of his hiding place. The ground under him was stained and soaked with blood, and there were mangled bodies everywhere. But the child Pooka didn't have eyes for anything but the body of his father.

Aster stumbled over to him in a half trance-like state. Then he knelt down and gave Eamon's shoulder a hesitant shake.

"Papa," he whispered with desperate hope. Because despite the logic and the facts right before his eyes, Aster couldn't believe his father was dead. Not when he promised everything would be okay. "Papa, wake up. Please wake up. Come on, Papa, wake up."

But Eamon didn't wake up, and as much as Aster hated to admit it, he never would. Aster surged to his feet with an aching heart and tears clouding his sight. He spun around, desperate to find someone, anyone, who was still alive. He needed to know everything was going to be okay. But more than anything…..he wanted his mother.

"Mama!" He shouted in a tear-strained voice. When there was no answer, he dashed off full speed through the smoldering remains of his village. "Mama! Mama, please, I need you. Mama! Somebody! Anybody! Help me, please!"

She didn't answer. Nobody answered. Still he ran about the village and screamed for someone to answer until his throat was raw. After that, he wandered numbly back to Eamon and curled up in a ball against the body. He did his best to pretend that it was a normal day off, when his father didn't have to go to work around the village, and he and Aster would lounge together, reading or telling stories all day long. And he wept and sobbed in terror and horror.

That was how North found him; huddled up against his dead father in a pile of bodies and calling out for his equally dead mother. Here the dream shifted, before Aster had to remember North pulling him away, kicking and screaming and crying from his father's body.

The scene warped and settled to the image of a field, and a ball of purple-white light that streaked across the sky and plowed into the earth. Aster watched as the glow faded and the form of a young girl emerged. He'd never really seen this, but he'd imagined it hundreds of times. This was his greatest failure, worse even the day of Eamon's death.

The girl – Katherine, his subconscious reminded him, would never let him forget – wandered about her crater for hours. Her cloudy, gray eyes looked at everything around her in the pure wonder of a child. She smiled and brushed a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear as she climbed out of the crater. That was how Pitch found her. The old man, hunched over as he was the day he killed Aster's father and ordered his people destroyed, smiled sweetly and offered a hand to the girl, and Aster's heart clenched when Katherine took it and trustingly let Pitch lead her away. The little girl just smiled, and willing followed as the dark wizard lead her to her death.

Aster had been hundreds of miles away when this happened. He remembered that North had sent out the lights to call the Guardians, but Aster had ignored it. It had been just over ten years since his people had been killed, slaughtered, and Aster hadn't been ready to come back into the world, so he'd ignored the call. But it wasn't an excuse, and the Pooka knew it. He had reached full maturity by that point, had gone through the process of immortality. He was the last of his kind, and as an adult, he had the responsibility to that star, a responsibility that was held sacred by his people. But instead of taking that to heart, he'd hidden. Which left North, Nightlight and Sandy to look for the star, and the two stars couldn't be allowed out into the world with all manners of evil out looking for Fallen stars. So that left North to retrieve the girl.

And North hadn't been fast enough. By the time the bearded man arrived at the sight of the Fall, Katherine had been long gone. Only then did Aster come out of hiding, the idea of a star in the hands of one of the dark powers in the world finally enough to force him into action. But still, it was too late. They'd scoured the earth for days, searching desperately for the girl and they'd found her, oh, had they found her. Pitch had left her in the crater of her Fall, likely as a jab at them.

The dark spirit had tortured her, for days. He'd broken each of her fingers, shattered her knees, cut at her face until she was unrecognizable. He'd cut the girl, cut her open, broke every one of her bones. Only then had he killed her; he'd cut out her heart while she was still alive. Then, Pitch had dumped her body, stripped of all clothes to show off every torment.

And just to make sure that the Guardians found her, he'd called them. He'd sent a ghostly image of himself to the Pole, fully revitalized in youth, to tell them just where they could find Katherine.

Aster remembered that night with sickening clarity. It was the first time he'd been out since the massacre. He remembered it was a warm night, the crickets were singing, the moon was full and the stars shined brightly. The Pooka had torn out of the workshop as fast as he could when they'd gotten the message. He knew, somewhere deep in his mind, that if Pitch was taunting them that the girl was already dead. But he couldn't accept it, he refused to accept it. Couldn't handle a failure of that magnitude. So he'd run as fast as he could to find her.

Aster was the first to arrive at the crater, the first to see Katherine. She was crumbled at the bottom of the crater like a broken doll. Bloody and broken, with her eyes still wide with horror and pain even as they were unseeing in death. Aster remembered his own horror, the way he'd sunk to the ground and just stared. Remembered the guilt that wanted to eat him alive. This was his fault, all his fault.

When the others arrived, they tried to tell him it wasn't true, that it wasn't his fault. Tried to convince him that it was Pitch's fault, and no one else's, but he knew better. He was the one who was responsible for this girl, for this child, the one who was supposed to look after her. He was the one who was honor bound, by the laws of his people, to protect Fallen stars, with his own life, if necessary.

His failure, his failure, his fault!

"Don't fail this one." Aster gave a start, even in his sleep. That wasn't his subconscious, it wasn't part of his nightmare. It was a warm, kind voice, and most definitely wasn't a part of him.

"Wake up, Aster. You must wake up now, and protect the boy."

Aster came to with a jolt, breathing heavily. He looked around in confusion and rubbed at his gritty eyes to rid himself of the nightmare. Nearly five centuries, and those nightmares still haunted him, and frightened him.

He got his breathing under control, and then forced himself to think back on the nightmare. The memories of the loss of his family and people, that he understood; he always had nightmares about that. Not as many as he used to, but they were still fairly regular. But the other half of the nightmare, the one centered around Katherine, he hadn't seen most of that, couldn't know it.

So why would he dream about it? Was it just his imagination, what he thought to have happened, brought to the front of his mind by the presence of another star? Was it because he had the chance to protect Jack now, like he hadn't been able, hadn't been willing to do for Katherine? He didn't know, and speaking of Jack….

Aster forced his head over to where the boy had been sleeping, suddenly eager to check on him. And his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw nothing. Jack was gone.

Aster jumped to his feet and ran a ten foot perimeter of the forest around the tree, hoping the boy hadn't gotten far. He couldn't have, right? Not on that leg and not by himself. Yet he returned to the tree empty handed. No Jack. The boy was gone.

Aster collapsed against the tree in despair. He'd failed. He'd failed Jack just as he had Katherine, and now the innocent young boy was going to suffer the same fear and agony and horror as that sweet young girl. The Pooka cradled his head into his hands and rocked as tears built up behind his eyes. He failed, he was a failure, a failure.

"Not yet," the same voice from his nightmare whispered to him. Aster looked up to see that he engulfed in soft moonlight. The Moon, the spirit that watched over the stars. He'd woken Aster from his nightmare, given him the opportunity to see that Jack was gone.

"There's still time."

Still time, still time to save Jack. He could protect the boy, could still save him like he should have with Katherine.

"Run," the Moon urged and Aster nodded.

He knelt down on all fours and gave a sniff. It was hard to find the boy's scent as the rain had washed much of it away. But it was still there, and Aster's nose was strong enough to find it. He soon caught a whiff of Jack's scent – cold and crisp like snow with a hunt of peppermint and vanilla – mingled with traces of Pitch's scent, meaning the man had sent one of his minions to take the boy. Aster growled low in his chest, the instinct to protect spreading through all of his being. He bolted through the woods, still on all fours, following Jack's scent, and hoping that he wasn't too late, this time.

Hang on, kid, he prayed, just hang on. I'm coming.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

Caleb shivered at the ice-cold rain poured down on him and trickled down the nape of his neck. He glared down at his runes and pulled his hood tighter around his head to better shield himself. Caleb pouted and thought over his options. He'd seen an inn about a mile back, and if he turned back now he could stay there for the night. That, he decided, sounded like a great idea.

Besides, it wasn't like there was too much of a rush, he added with a smirk. Caleb was a good day ahead of his brothers, and his runes told him the stone was close, very close. He could spend the night in a nice, warm, dry inn, and find the stone in the morning. Then, he would be king of Stormhold. Caleb smiled at the thought and quickly directed his carriage back toward the inn.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

The boy was glowing by the time he was wrapped snuggly in a bath robe and being led to the finest room the inn had to offer. Really, truly glowing with a pure white light outlining his head, the surest sign that a star was at peace and perfectly happy. Pitch had to grin at that thought. All he'd had to do was give the boy a full meal, a warm bath and a place to sleep, and the boy was putty in his hands.

"I really do appreciate all you've done for me, Peter."

Pitch pulled himself out of his darker thoughts and offered the boy a warm, closed lip smile. It's counter-productive to frighten the boy now, he reminded himself. No matter how tempting it may be.

"As I said, we live to please our guests. You seem happier."

"I am happier," Jack said eagerly. "That bath did me a world of good. My leg feels good as new."

"Glad to hear it. Now, my wife will take you up to your room, a good night's rest will get you back to your old self like nothing else," Pitch said in a chipper voice.

"Oh, I really don't…I don't sleep well at night."

"Don't worry, I'll bring you up something to help you sleep."

Jack just smiled and let the women lead him up the stairs. Pitch watched them go, keeping that disgustingly pleasant smile on his face until the boy was out of sight. Only then did he let his teeth show in a feral grin. It was show time.

He turned on his heels and waltzed over to the bag of tools he'd packed for the occasion. He pulled the bag open and reached in to retrieve a long blade that was about the length of his arm. He smiled as he studied the knife, and ran his finger – grey once more, now that he'd allowed the glamor portraying him as the kindly innkeeper 'Peter' to fall away – along the sharp blade that was dark as night. This was for the finale, for when he rip out little Jack's still beating heart. But Pitch had all night, at the very least, for that. Now was the time for fun.

So he put the knife to the side with a blissful sigh and an almost loving smile, and reached back into the bag. Pitch had brought all manner of torture instruments for this. Tools that cut, that burned, that broke bones and skewered into flesh. Things that will make young Jack's eyes go wide and his heart tremble in fear, Pitch thought with a grin. But first he needed the boy secure, and for that, Pitch brought out a small mallet. A good blow to the head would knock Jack out for some hours – and Pitch did promise to bring something to get the boy to sleep – and leave him with a nasty headache when he woke. It was the perfect overture to the night that would follow.

With that in mind, Pitch gathered up his bag and made his way upstairs. He passed his 'wife' as he went, and she gave him a nod that said Jack was in bed and that it was time for Pitch to go in. And they shared equally frightening looks. Pitch limped ever so slightly as he moved, pain in his joints flaring up. The use of the glamor and the magic needed to create the inn had taken its toll. Pitch's condition was degenerating; he was reverting back to that pitiful lump of flesh. Not for much longer, he reminded himself to stave off the feeling of panic the thought brought. There was no need to ration magic now, that was why he'd gone all out. He took a calming breath as he came to the room holding his prize and pushed the door open, slowly and quietly. He gently set the bag down by the door as he moved to the boy's bed.

Jack was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed peacefully as he tried to drift off into sleep. Pitch smiled as he approached the boy, the great knife in one hand and the mallet in the other. He couldn't wait to get started.

But just as he had the mallet raised to strike the boy's forehead, there was a knock at the door downstairs. Pitch looked toward the sound sharply and Jack peeked an eye open. He lurched up with a gasp as he took in the sight of the innkeeper, now with oddly grey skin, looming over him with a weapon posed to strike. The taller man acted quickly, dropping the mallet to clap a hand over Jack's mouth before he could scream, and pinning him to the bed. Jack whimpered against his hand, and looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Pitch smirked and deeply inhaled the scent of Fear pulsing off the boy.

More pounding sounded from down stairs, followed by a muffled "hello?" and Pitch sighed. He would have to deal with a that, Pitch noted and he racked his brain for a course of action as the sound of an opening door signaled his 'wife' had let the stranger inside. He made eye contact with Jack, and brought the knife still in his other hand up so that it was right under the frightened boy's nose.

"Make one sound and I will cut you open," he warned. Pitch pressed the tip of the knife to the point of breaking the skin before he withdrew it, and his hand.

Jack kept dutifully quiet, sealing his lips over frightened whimpers. He kept silent even when shadows moved, seemingly of their own accord, to tangle in his limbs. Pitch watched with a small, pleased smile, and glanced over his shoulder as the man down stairs demanded 'the best room in the inn'. Pitch frowned at that. Seeing as he hadn't made the woman he'd overshadowed into his 'wife' to be particularly intelligent, just sweet and calming, she would likely bring the man straight up to the best room the inn had to offer. Which happened to house Pitch and a trembling star. That could be a problem, he noted. With that in mind, Pitch stood up and made to move for the door.

"What are you doing? Why are you doing this?"

Pitch just smiled as he leaned back over the bed. He 'tsked' the boy and flicked the tip of his nose, scolding.

"Now, Jack. I told you to keep quiet." With that another strand of shadows closed over Jack's lips. "You just stay here. I'll be back as soon as I deal with this other guest."

Jack watched with wide eyes as the man turned on his heels and swept out of the room. When he was out of sight, Jack strained against the shadows. He didn't understand what was going on, or why the nice innkeeper was being so cruel. But he did know that he couldn't stay here and wait for the man to come back and…..do whatever it was he was planning. It couldn't be good if what he was planning involved that gigantic knife, that Jack knew for sure. And he definitely couldn't let however was down stairs fall into the same insane nightmare that Jack had. So the star struggled and fought against his bounds.

With the sharp need to protect both himself and the stranger down stairs pulsing through his body, something sparked deep in Jack's chest. There was a crackle by his head and Jack turned to look at the source, and he stared in shock. The bounds around his wrist where frozen in brittle ice. He slowly raised his head and found the shadows around his ankles were the same. Jack didn't know how he did that, but that didn't matter, he needed to get down stairs. With that thought, Jack jerked and the restraints shattered. He sat up quickly and brushed his fingers over the gag to do away with it the same way. Then he dashed over to the door and pushed it open as quietly as he could.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

The shivering prince pounded on the door until it felt like the wood of the door would split from the force of his fist. He'd knocked and shouted, but no one answered. This was very poor service, he thought sulkily. He would have to ban all poor service as soon as he was king. Poor service would be punishable by death; that would be his first decree after his coronation.

The door suddenly opened and pulled him out of his musing. He sent the woman in the doorway a look that informed her of his annoyance at being made to wait.

"I'm accustom to better service."

"Oh dear, come in, out of this retched rain!" She chirped in worry.

Caleb raised a brow, but gladly did so. The doughy woman led him into the warmth of the inn and the prince sighed in happiness. He pulled his hood down and stared longingly at the warm tub to his left before he turned to the woman.

"I think you're best room should suffice, all things considering."

"I'll have my husband fix you up a room. You poor dear," she cooed one more time.

Caleb just shook his head and stripped off his soaping cloak. He was making his way to the bath, and preparing to lose the rest of his wet clothes when the slap of bare feet brought his attention to the stairs. A young boy, just barely in his teens, dressed only in a white bath robe, dashed down the stairs and toward Caleb. His panic face lite up in relief at the sight of the prince as he made a bee-line for him. Caleb's eyes narrowed and he slowly reached for his sword.

"Please! Help me, please," the boy pleaded. "We have to get out—"

Jack was grabbed by the front of his robe and shoved into the nearest wall before he could finish. He blinked in confusion at the man, and then froze when he once again felt the sharp press of steel to his throat.

"Really, Pippen sends a boy to do his work now? Well, if he insists…"

"Wait, wait," Jack protested as he felt the tip of the blade press harder into his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know a Pippen, I swear. But, you need to listen—"

"I am the future King of Stormhold. I don't need to listen to anything you say, boy," he trailed off and stared down at Jack's throat. There, hanging so it was barely visible above the line of the boy's robe, was a clear oval stone, dangling from a long golden chain.

"That stone," Caleb muttered under his breath in shock, "it can't be."

Caleb's hold loosened and Jack broke free. He dashed away from the man, and stared at him with wide eyes. The prince glared at him angrily and stalked forward. Jack matched each forward step with a retreating one.

"Give it to me. Give me the stone!"

"Fine! Fine, you can have it." Jack promised breathlessly, still keeping as much distance between himself and the man as he possibly could. "Just help me please. We need to get out of here before he—Look out!"

While Jack had been breathlessly and desperately trying to convince the man to get him out of this insane place, a dark shadow had slunk up behind the prince. Caleb made to turn and face the threat, but before he could, the dark figure pulled his head back and slit Caleb's throat open like a rip banana. A spray of blood splattered over Jack's cheek as the man crumpled and he let out a horrified shriek. Pitch glanced up from his intense stare at the body and gave the star a chilling grin. Then he tsked and motioned to the growing pool of blood.

"Now look at what you've done. You killed this poor man."

Jack stared at him in shock with his bottom lip trembling in terror for a moment, and then made a dash for the door. Pitch simply rolled his eyes and lunged after the boy, catching him before Jack made it more than a couple of steps. He hefted the boy into the air by his waist and tossed him to the ground and Jack saw stars as his head hit the ground with a loud 'crack'. By the time he came back to his senses and tried to move away, Pitch already had him pinned. He tried to force the dark wizard off of him, but the strength of his teenage body was no match for the weight of a full grown man, and all he managed was to slightly shift Pitch's hold. All his efforts did were amuse the man.

"No, no! You said you wouldn't, you said—" Jack thrashed again as Pitch raised the knife to strike.

"I told you to stay in your room, like a good boy. And you didn't. But if it makes you feel any better, Jack, this was going to happen regardless of any of your actions." Pitch smiled with cruel satisfaction and teasingly brushed the tip of the knife over Jack's chest, and his rapidly beating heart.

"Why?!" The question came out as a desperate whine as Pitch pulled the white robe apart to further expose Jack's chest. The man paused and met Jack's frantic eyes.

"It's nothing personal against you, Jack. It's just survival."

Pitch turned his attention back to the boy's chest, and lifted the knife over his head. It was a shame that they didn't have time for the fun Pitch had had in mind, but the inn was proving a far too busy area of foot traffic. Oh well, he thought, time for the best part.

Jack flinched away as the knife descended toward him, with a whimper held just behind his lips, because the last sound he made in this life was not going to be a whimper. Time slowed to a crawl as the young boy waited for the pain of the knife going into his chest.

Instead, there was a shout of shocked pain from above him, and the innkeeper's weight suddenly rolled off of him. Jack cracked a cautious eye open as he was yanked to his feet, and let out a startled breath when he saw the giant rabbit he'd left behind in the woods. Aster pushed the boy behind him and caught his boomerang as it finished its loop. The woman posing as Pitch's wife dashed forward with a feral shriek and Aster knocked her to the side with no effort. She collided with the wall, with sand seeming to burst from her head, and collapsed without a sound.

Aster turned his attention away from the woman and back to Pitch. And he tried not to let the fact that his heart was frozen with terror show on his face as the monster from his nightmares climbed to his feet.

Pitch was young again, which could only mean that he'd tapped into the remains of Katherine's heart. Aster found that the anger that realization sparked shifted the fear back, if only a little. He also took a great deal of pleasure in the sight of the bloody gash across Pitch's temple. Despite the injury and the pain it very obviously must have caused, the dark man had a sickening smile on his face. So Aster tightened his grip on Jack to further ground himself, and looked Pitch in the eye with all the strength and courage and hatred he could muster.

Pitch just laughed.

"Well, well, this is an unpleasant surprise. I thought you'd slunk back to your hole to die in shame."

Aster growled and increased the intensity of his glare.

"How does it feel," Pitch went on, "to know that you'll fail this boy as thoroughly as you did the girl all those years ago? That you're a complete failure to everything your people lived for?"

"How did it feel to be stuck in the shadows where you belong for five centuries?" Aster snarled back. He did his best to stay angry, and not flinch at the reference to Katherine.

On the scale of insults, it was obviously less than spectacular, and Pitch only laughed again. The dark man sneered and advanced the two, and Aster shuffled back until he and Jack hit the wall.

"You know, this day has worked out better than I could have imagined. Not only do I get another star, but I finally get to wipe your pest of a race off the face of the planet. I might feel the need to dance." Pitch smiled and made a show of studying his knife.

Aster studied the man and weighed his options. His weapons were designed for long-distance battle, and though he was an accomplished warrior, it was difficult to tell whether or not Aster could take Pitch out before he was too badly hurt to protect Jack. So with the option of fighting out of the question, they had to escape, and they only had one way to go about that. One that may not even work. But it was a better option than just standing there waiting to be stabbed to death.

"Jack, I need you ta hold tight ta me, okay?" He said quietly over his shoulder. Not that is was particularly necessary; the boy was clinging to his back so tightly that he was nearly welded into Aster's skin.

Aster turned all of his will toward his magic, and tapped his foot to the ground just as Pitch rushed them. There was a painful, sharp twinge in Aster's chest as his magic conflicted with Jack's, but he forced through it with a scream of pain and they dropped down the hole. Pitch fell forward and the knife shattered as it plunged into the stone. He stumbled back and glanced around the room in rage. There was no sign of the star and the giant rabbit anywhere, except for the outline of frost against the wall. They'd gotten away.

Pitch tossed the handle of the knife away and snarled. Then he screamed and slammed his fist against the wall until it bled.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

Jack and Aster were blasted apart with a crackle of ice when they surfaced. The Pooka groaned and rubbed his chest to soothe the lingering pain, and wipe the ice out of his fur. Aster shook his head and blinked the rain out his eyes as he tried to get a handle on their bearings. As he shook off the rain, he saw that they were surrounded by a group of men in rain gear, all looking as surprised as Jack and Aster.

"Grab them," one of the men ordered when he came to his senses. The others quickly obeyed, and even though Aster struggled, there were far too many of them to fight. In a matter of minutes, both he and Jack were held tight and forced to their knees.

The man who'd spoken studied them and knelt to Aster's level. "Who are you?" He demanded. "What are you?"

When Aster didn't reply, the man only shook his head. Then, he turned to address the other men again.

"Take them below deck and inform Captain Pitchiner. Then get back to work, we've got lightning to catch."

As he was led off, Aster glanced around to get a better view of their surroundings. He didn't see much, as it was both dark and raining, but he caught the briefest glance of the ocean before he was pushed inside. The ocean. They were on a ship, he realized. Worse, they were on a pirate ship. In the middle of the ocean, with no way to escape.

'Ah, hell.' Was all Aster could think of on that point.

So, who can guess who I've got to play Captain Shakespeare? I hope you guys like my choice for that AU character, because I'm really excited.