Jack perched on top of a statue, idly drawing frost patterns on the top of the bald head of whoever it was. He was practically fuming, his movements jerky and barely controlled. That stupid bird had tried to mess up his fun. And so had that rabbit! Didn't they get that he was just trying to play?

Probably not.

It was so infuriating! It was like they didn't get the concept of fun at all.

Most likely.

What was he supposed to do? He just wanted to make sure everybody got to have fun. And then the bird lady had tried to screw it all up! Idiots.

You could get rid of them.

He had tried that. The rabbit saved the bird lady and then refused to let Jack kill him. So stupid.

Try harder. Have… more fun.

More fun? He was already having tons of fun, but he supposed he could have more. But, how?

You'll have to kill them. Try very hard to kill them. Once they're out of the way, you can have all the fun in the world. And if the world doesn't like that, kill them, too.

How?

I'll tell you how.

o.O.o

"Voices?" North folded his arms, his brow furrowing. "You say voices are telling him what to do?"

"That's what it sounded like," Bunny nodded. "He's… scary, North. The kid seriously freaks me out." Especially the eyes, Bunny remembered. They had been so soulless and… dead. Nothing at all like Jack's should be. Bunny couldn't imagine what could have happened to Jack in order to make his eyes look like that, but it couldn't be good. "You didn't see him, North. He wasn't Jack at all. He tried to murder Tooth. It's like someone took his brain out and put someone else's in."

Sandy's nose wrinkled. Is that a possibility?

"But what could the voices be?" North scratched his chin. He wandered over to the Globe controls and idly fiddled with some dials. They had returned to the Pole some minutes previously, at Bunny and Tooth's insistence, and they had told him and Sandy all of what had happened. North had taken the news calmly, while Sandy had looked stricken.

"You know what I'm gonna say," Bunny said quietly.

"Yes, Bunny," North didn't turn around. "And I can't say I haven't considered it myself." Of course he had. They all had, they had just avoided bringing it up before now. It had only been a matter of time.

"So what do we do?" Tooth asked. She had been mostly silent since arriving at the Pole, assigning herself to comforting her small group of mini-fairies, most of whom were consumed with grief.

"We…" North began, "we have to go find out if it's the truth. Then we can figure out what to do about it."

The others nodded, and Sandy silently raised one hand. North nodded. "Yes, Sandy, you are the best fit to go. Good luck, my friend, and be careful."

o.O.o

That was how Sandy had ended up here: underground, his absolute least favorite place to be. Sandy had always felt he belonged far above the Earth, among the clouds, where he could see everything and everyone. Here, he just felt small…. Well. Smaller.

But he supposed he was the best fit for this job. Imagine sending Bunny! There would be violence, possibly murder… or just a lot of shouting.

He had found the entrance easily enough. It was in the same place it had always been, a little ways out from Burgess. Sandy had never liked the proximity it had to where Jack spent a lot of his time, but there had been little he could do about it.

The entrance had been closed for years, with no sign it had ever existed, but a couple taps with his small hand proved successful in opening it. It was almost too easy, but it must come with the two of them having very similar powers. He tried not to think about it. All that had been left to do then was to descend into that very uninviting dark hole. Trying to swallow his doubts, he floated down into the vertical tunnel.

Sandy had been here… once, a very (very) long time ago, when the two of them, and the Earth itself, had been much younger. He didn't like to think of the circumstances of that meeting. It was best left un-thought about.

Though, if he had heard right, Jack was the one who had been here the most recently. It was something to think about: Jack, their youngest Guardian, venturing where the rest of them hardly dared, or cared, to go. But, he didn't know much about it, as that had also been a very dark time.

He hadn't died, per say. There was no real way to describe it, but Sandy had gone into a sort-of limbo, something suspended between life and death. He had existed, but only in the vaguest metaphorical sense. The children had brought him back, but he feared that if it had gone on any longer he would have disappeared forever.

It was something very similar that brought him here, today, when he would have preferred to stay far, far, away. His fear for Jack outweighed every sense of self-preservation he had.

The tunnel curved from vertical to horizontal, finally opening into a circular entrance. The realm was almost exactly how he remembered it; Venetian architecture, old, sinking slowly into some dark abyss, everything tilted and dark. If anything, it was further gone than he recalled; everything just slightly danker and …slimier than he had remembered seeing it.

The man himself could just be made out a ways above, dark on dark, standing very still on a bridge that crossed the large chamber. He made no move to acknowledge Sandy's presence, but Sandy knew that he was aware of him.

Steeling his resolve, Sandy floated up to join him.

He landed some distance behind the man, but he made no move to turn and face him. Sandy was fine with waiting; he would let him begin on his own terms.

Finally, he spoke. "Ah, Sandman," Pitch drawled. "I can't say I was expecting this visit."

Sandy didn't reply. Pitch wouldn't be able to see anything Sandy had to say, anyway, turned away as he was.

"Especially… from you." He seemed lost in thought. "I would have thought you would stay far away, like the rest of them." Finally, he turned, a grin spreading across his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Now that they had eye contact, Sandy could feel very acutely the raging dark-versus-light battle throbbing between them, as it had always been. The two of them were entities that should not coexist, and the ramification of this was felt every time they met. They might be very similar, but, you know what they say about magnets of the same charge.

While his realm had changed somewhat, the man himself was exactly the same. Tall, gaunt, hair slicked back almost haphazardly. His long, dark, robe extended into the floor, blending into the shadows, and was held together across his chest in what Jack liked to call the Never-ending V-Neck. His eyes were just as cold and piercing as they had always been, staring at Sandy as if he could see right through him.

I think you know why I'm here, Sandy said finally, after a long moment, his words illustrated by golden pictures above his head, as always.

"Mmm, I'm sure I don't." Pitch hummed. "There could be any number of reasons, I think. Would you care to elaborate?"

Sandy wrinkled his nose. Don't play dumb.

"I'm not!" Pitch seemed affronted. "I don't know how a man of so few words can beat around the bush so acutely. Just say it, Sandman."

Sandy relented. What did you do to Jack?

Pitch thought about it. "What did I do?" he tapped his chin. "Me? Nothing." But at Sandy's dubious glare, his grin widened even further, exposing even more of his teeth. "But that's not true at all, is it?"

Sandy's glare deepened. So it's true. You poisoned him.

Pitch brushed something off his sleeve (arm? Sleeve? Sandy wasn't entirely sure what it was). "You wound me, Sandy. I certainly might have helped the process along, but the madness is all him, I can assure you."

He's killed thousands, and more are dying even now. Why have you done this?

"Oh, why would you think?" Pitch rolled his eyes. "Pick any reason. I want revenge. I want revenge on him. I want revenge on you. I'm bored. Take your pick."

That can't be it.

"Can't it?" Pitch stroked a cracked railing with one long finger. "Maybe I've finally won, and you simply can't accept it."

He's trying to kill us. What if that includes you?

"It won't. He's like a child, really, and any child, no matter how bad, will always listen to the authority figure in charge."

And that's you? You're the voices?

"That's what he's calling them, is it?" Pitch chuckled. "Yes, 'the voices' are me. But you'll find they're really only suggestions… everything else is coming from him. I'm controlling him in only the barest possible sense."

Sandy was at a loss. The things Pitch was saying… Is there any way to fix this?

"Mmm?" Pitch thought about it. "Maybe. Maybe not. It's not your typical power of belief little story, is it?"

Could you fix it?

"I'm sure I could, but," Pitch tapped his chin, "thing is, I can't. I can't leave this realm… you see the nightmares, don't you?"

Sandy did. They were a constant presence, lurking in the shadows out of the corner of his eye. Sandy had been here barely ten minutes and already they were making him nervous. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Pitch, who was trapped here.

"Unless…" Pitch was continuing, "You would be so kind as to…" the walls went down for half a second, and his eyes softened. Sandy almost melted, almost, but he resisted.

What if we brought him here?

The walls snapped back into place. "Well, then all your problems would be solved right there and then, wouldn't they?" He turned away in disgust. "But what would I possibly stand to gain from that?"

He walked a few steps farther down the bridge. "You see, Sandman, the madness will only get worse as time progresses. He'll destroy everything and everyone, until there is nothing left. And he'll think it's all great fun."

He tapped his fingers on the railing, idly, as if barely focusing. "And when all is said and done, when the world is nothing but cold, and dark, and fear, then I'll have the voices bring the pain back, and this time, it'll kill him."

Pitch turned back and gave Sandy a leering glance. "And then the world will be filled with so much fear, I'll be powerful enough to leave. And the world will be mine for the taking."

Sandy could only stare, aghast, words failing him.

"And, I think, just for the extra thrill," Pitch said slowly, savoring it, "I think in that final moment before he dies, I'll let him go… so he can see his good work for himself." Sandy put a hand on his head, feeling the horror wash over him, and his shoulders slumped.

"Do you have any more questions, Sandman, or are we done here?" Pitch turned away again.

There really was nothing else. Sandy swallowed the horror that had built up inside him over the course of the conversation, and turned to float out the way he had come.

He was almost out when he heard Pitch's voice calling him. "I can feel the fear in you, little man! I can always feel it. And it's oh, so, potent." Sandy shuddered, and drifted up the tunnel all the faster.

Boy, did he have a lot to tell the Guardians.

o.O.o

A/N: Was anyone, uh, surprised?

(((my friend is going to hate me for this... that is, if she can take time off her destiel fanfics to read this)))

Did you know that Pitch is actually really easy to write? You just summon Jude Law with a satanic ritual, he points to your word document- bam you've got Pitch's dialogue. So easy!

Also, there was no way it wouldn't have descended into a monologue. It's not like Sandy can hold up his end of the conversation properly, anyway. Sandy is all inner monologues.

Did you know that this story is about to pick way up? Action to come next week! And then... and then... the real plot begins. Like, scheming plots. There will be scheming.

I'm actually not sure how long this story will be! It will end up how it ends up, I suppose. Send good thoughts that I will defeat chapter six before chapter six is actually due. It's not that I don't have time, it's just... I'm stuck. We will see what happens.

See you next week!