I want to thank everyone for taking the time to review!

Yes, yes, I know it was a long wait for an update… I have no excuses other than a loss of interest and being perpetually plagued by laziness.

~We Can Make Them Believe~

Chapter 4: Another Deal

Jack stood in the empty alleyway for what felt like hours; though realistically he knew it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes. His frost along the ground and buildings stayed in place, hiding what little grime there was and somehow emphasizing the shadows that took refuge in every nook and cranny. It left him with an eerie feeling if he stared at it for too long. Now that he was alone, confronted and forced to examine his thoughts, he found himself staggering under the events that led to this.

How was it that just two days ago he'd been playing with Jamie and his friends, instigating snowball fights and causing exciting sled rides through the town? Jack looked up at the sky, instinctively searching for the Moon, only to see dark clouds rolling in overhead. He didn't know if that made him feel relieved or upset.

He had asked the Man in the Moon for centuries variants of a simple question, why him? Why had he been chosen to become Jack Frost? What was his purpose? But he'd never been answered, never acknowledged. Then North had said the Moon had chosen him to be a Guardian, that it was his destiny. And Jack, who had waited for centuries for his answer, had been sorely disappointed with the reason for his existence. Why would he want to be a Guardian?

He had spent centuries resenting them, spending his time exposing their faults out of spite for how he'd been left alone. They bribed children for their Belief! North left toys, Tooth left money, and Bunny left eggs. Admittedly, that last one was pretty lame. Who wanted an egg? Still, they were simple material things that never lasted long, but Jack had to admit that the bribes did their job. They were proof that the kids could hold onto and say: "Look what Santa brought me!" It was easy to be Believed in when you had something tangible to offer.

Snow happened all on its own. Jack didn't control every blizzard or was responsible for every snow day. He couldn't offer kids proof of his existence. In that regard, he considered that Sandy was very much like him. It was impossible to think that the little man had been the creator of all good dreams.

So for all the stories Jack had heard about the Guardians over the years, about how wonderful, amazing, and giving they were, he'd never believed a word of it. They had never shown him any attention or kindness. Not once had he met Tooth or North before the other night, and his first time meeting Bunny in '68 had been less than stellar.

But after spending some time with the Guardians themselves, he had learned the truth. They weren't the mean, uncaring, shallow beings he'd convinced himself to think. He'd just been jealous and had felt ignored by them, shunned and unwanted. Perhaps that's what hurt him the most when he realized what they were truly like. They hadn't neglected him for three hundred years on purpose. The Guardians had simply been too wrapped up in their own lives to realize he was there, desperately waiting for someone to see him.

During the past few days, Jack had finally started seeing what kids all over the world had been saying for centuries. North was great. He was a hearty, welcoming man, who'd taken a moment to actually explain a few things, even managing to look out for him in their short time together. He was fun and Jack had constantly caught himself warming up to the older Spirit's antics.

Sandy was someone whom he was the most familiar with among the Guardians. The little man had been the first Spirit he'd ever met, and even though Sandy hadn't been able to talk, Jack had just appreciated finding out that someone could actually see him at the time. The little man had always sent an excited wave in greeting whenever they'd crossed paths.

Jack still wasn't sure what to make of Tooth. She was nice and had even apologized for not knowing about his memory loss. Not that he'd known about it either. She'd been the one to catch him after being knocked out briefly from the backlash of his own attack. Even though she had a bordering unhealthy obsession with teeth and no sense of personal space, Jack still found himself smiling a little whenever he pictured her concerned face.

As for Bunny… he gritted his teeth and pushed the thought of the Easter Bunny away from the front of his mind. He didn't know what he felt towards the Kangaroo, he just knew it wasn't anything positive. They'd had a rough relationship even before this whole Guardianship thing started. After Easter, after the punch, Jack was certain he could never look at the other Spirit in a positive light again.

A frightened yell from nearby broke the Winter Spirit out of his thoughts. Dread pooled in his stomach as he realized that it was a child's screams.

Without a second's hesitation he flew to the nearby house, recognizing it as the home to one of Jamie's friends. Fear griped at his heart as well as anger. He'd promised Jamie that he wouldn't let any of his friends have nightmares tonight, but if Pitch was in there…

Jack paused at the window and carefully peered into the bedroom. Pippa Harington turned in her bed fitfully as the black sand that floated over her head took on the shape of a large spider. He anxiously frowned as he looked over the scene. Why hadn't she woken up yet? Where were her parents, hadn't they heard their daughter's scream? Jack opened the window as quickly and quietly as he could before stepping into Pippa's room with an uneasy feeling.

Pitch was nowhere in sight. He let out a relieved sigh.

The Winter Spirit studied the girl's tearstained face, heart aching as he wondered what he was supposed to do now. It's not like he could reach out and shake Pippa awake. As the girl gave another whimper, Jack snapped his fingers as an idea struck him. He raised his staff towards the ceiling, giving it a slight swing, causing big fluffy snowflakes to start drifting downwards. The first flake landed on Pippa's nose and she shivered before blinking awake as a few more collected on her face. The Nightmare Spider shuddered for a second before losing its shape and spilling onto the floor. Jack eyed it with distaste before freezing it in a solid block of ice.

The residual fear in Pippa's face instantly fled as she gazed up in awe at the miniature flurry he'd created. Jack smiled to himself as the nine year old giggled in delight and reached out to touch the white flakes. She stood up on her bed; much like Jamie had earlier, and twirled, the snowflakes catching in her short red hair. Jack had always liked Pippa and it wasn't just because she was Jamie's best friend. Pippa was a bright, fun girl, though she had the tendency to be a bit of a worrier. It helped that he'd also heard her admit several times that winter was her favorite season.

After fifteen minutes though, Pippa's burst of excitement faded and she slowly fell back asleep while watching the snowflakes fondly. Jack watched her for a few minutes more, just to make sure that she didn't have another nightmare. There was no Dream Sand over her head, but there was a small content smile on her face that he was responsible for. He adjusted the covers, tucking Pippa in more thoroughly, and dismissed the snow from her room. Crouching down to pick up the frozen formless sand, Jack snuck back out the window and silently closed it behind himself before flying off to check on the rest of Jamie's friends.

He was completely unaware of the golden eyes that watched him leave before disappearing into the shadows to report to its' master.

~We Can Make Them Believe~

Pitch Black was downright giddy and it was a terrifying sight to behold.

The children, on some baser level in their subconscious, realized this. From where he stood on the roof of a two-story home, he could hear the little ones inside shifting restlessly in their beds. He wasn't even in the same room as them, but they were already beginning to sense his presence. It was a testament to how much his power had grown in such a short amount time.

He wasn't strong enough to give nightmares to teenagers or adults quite yet, but with every child that whimpered and cried out in their sleep, the Nightmare King knew he wouldn't have to wait long. Of course no one knew that he was the one responsible for their nightmares at the moment, but soon enough the world would once again Believe in the Boogeyman.

For now, he simply reveled in his victory as he watched his Nightmares dash across rooftops in some random city on the eastern coast of the States. He had free reign to be wherever he wanted, to give whomever he wanted a terrible nightmare or two. There was no one left to stop him. Just that fact alone was enough to send Pitch laughing triumphantly again.

He'd done it. He'd finally beaten those wretched Guardians! 'So it is true.' Pitch thought humorously to himself. 'Revenge is a dish best served cold.' He'd have to remember to share that joke with Frost in the future. He smirked at thought of the little Winter Spirit. Recruiting the boy had certainly been a blow to the Guardians, both physically and emotionally. He could recount the boy's horrifying lies with perfect clarity, savoring the Guardians' shaken expressions and growing fear as Frost explained what he'd done. He made a mental note to turn Frost's detailed stories into actual nightmares for the children. That should squash the chances of any new Believers appearing.

A Nightmare approached from behind him and he turned to it with a raised brow. It whickered in an agitated manner, delivering a message that quickly diminished his good mood.

"So Jack Frost thinks he can dictate my Nightmares, does he?" He dismissed the creature with a wave of his hand and dove into the nearest source of darkness, reappearing inside a child's room. Frost stood near the sleeping child's bed, watching fondly and remaining oblivious to his arrival. He quietly approached the boy and spoke once he was less than a foot away. "Frost." Pitch hissed, rewarded with a startled jump from the Winter Spirit and a spike of fear. "I think it's time you and I had a talk about how this partnership is going to work." The child stirred in his sleep and Frost quickly shushed him before pointing at the window. He glared, but said no more as he followed the boy outside onto the snow covered lawn.

"I guess you found out about my freezing one of your Nightmares, huh?" Frost remarked lowly as he shuffled in the shadow of the house. Despite the added layer of darkness, the boy's white hair seemed as glaringly bright as ever. To his credit, Frost almost looked apologetic.

"Yes and you will not be doing it again." The Boogeyman growled and the child quickly brought up his hands in a surrendering gesture. He paused before turning his attention back to the house. 'That must be little Jamie's residence.' Pitch felt Frost shift behind him uncomfortably as the boy's fear increased slightly, worried for his little Believer no doubt. "What did you do with my Nightmare?" He continued in a more sedated tone and the tension eased out of the boy's shoulders a little.

Frost gave him a sheepish look before pulling something out of his shirt's front pocket. A small mound of Nightmare Sand rested in the center of a block of ice. Pitch glowered at the younger Spirit as he took the frozen sand and had the shadows return it back to his lair where it could thaw.

"I know I shouldn't have done that, but–" Frost made an expression that Pitch could only describe as pitiful. "There are so many children; can't you leave the ones in this town alone?"

"So you would sacrifice the many to save a few?" He stated curiously; enjoying the way the boy curled in on himself and hugged his staff tightly to his body, as if it were a security blanket. "That doesn't seem very heroic, does it Jack?"

"I'm not saying forever, just for tonight. Just give them one night of no nightmares." The Winter Spirit muttered as he lowered his head. "I promised Jamie."

"Ah, I suppose his opinion of you would matter the most, as he is your only Believer for the moment." He commented lazily as he turned his gaze back to Jamie's bedroom window. "But then you're asking another favor of me Jack. I spared the little Fairy at your request. What will I get in return this time?"

"What do you want?" Frost asked warily and Pitch smirked.

"I will exempt young Jamie and his friends from having any Nightmares tonight, but only if you find a suitable replacement." At the boy's confused expression, he elaborated further. "Meaning, you must choose a new child who will receive the intended children's nightmares in their stead. How many children do you wish to spare?"

"Well, there's Jamie of course, his sister Sophie, Pippa, Cupcake, Monty, Claude, and Caleb."

"Then the child you choose will have to suffer through seven nightmares." Pitch answered with a sharp grin and the boy faltered, looking positively stricken at that thought. "Of course I am not completely cruel. The child will not have to experience them all in one evening." Frost bit his lip and closed his eyes in thought. "I will not give you all night to think about my offer Jack, there are many things I'd rather be doing." It was silent for a few moments.

"What if…" The boy eyed him nervously and Pitch felt another spike of trepidation from the Winter Spirit. "What if I took their nightmares?" The Boogeyman blinked. Well, he most certainly had not been expecting that. A hungry smile split across his face before he could stop it and Frost flinched in response.

While Pitch loved the fear that children emitted, the fear of a Spirit was far more powerful. And Frost, being both child and Spirit, would likely produce the most potent fear of all.

"I accept." He agreed readily, holding out his hand before the boy could take back his offer, though Pitch doubted that he would. Frost was very much like the Guardians in that regard. The children always came first. The boy stared at his offered hand for a moment before reaching out slowly with his own. Once their hands clasped, he tugged Frost closer sending Nightmare Sand to spiral up the frightened boy's arm. "Pleasant dreams, Jack." He struggled for a moment and gave Pitch a fearful look, before his eyelids started to droop against his will. Frost fell forward like a stone and Pitch grunted as the boy collapsed into him.

Irritated, he glared at the sleeping child before lifting Frost up into his arms. Now that he had decent footing, Pitch discovered that the Winter Spirit was light and thin, almost painfully so. It was no wonder the boy could ride the wind so easily; there was no weight to him at all. Ice particles were slowly spreading over his hands and coat, the pattern defaulting back to that fern design the boy seemed to be so fond of. With one last glance at Jamie's window, Pitch slipped into the shadows and arrived in a spare room in his Dark Cave.

He dumped Frost unceremoniously onto the dust ridden bed, holding his breath so as not to inhale the cloud of motes. He had to pry the boy's staff out of his tight grip and Pitch studied it for a second before setting it against the grimy wall. He had seen the way Frost had fallen after losing his staff during the battle against the Sandman. He had a theory that the staff was the boy's conduit to harness his power. But it wasn't just that, while the weapon seemed like lifeless wood in his hands, Pitch could feel the Moon's influence radiating from it.

The Boogeyman paused to take in the dusty room that had never been used before, just like the other countless bedrooms that were placed throughout his lair. Not for the first time he wondered why his Dark Cave had so much space, but he brushed the thought aside to focus on the sleeping Spirit. Frost particles had already begun to spread along the drab moth eaten covers, climbing up the iron bedpost frame in a lazy manner. The boy muttered once, the noise was hushed but carried an undertone of worry, and the small mass of Nightmare Sand above the boy's head began to grow as his fear increased.

Pitch closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It had been a long time since he'd felt such a concentrated burst of fear as powerful as this. A soft whimper broke out from the Winter Spirit and he could almost feel himself shudder as the resulting energy surged through him. Pitch likened the feeling to that of a drug. The "high" sent him reeling and he stumbled backwards, hands instinctively reaching out to help regain his balance. He blindly sat down in a cobwebbed covered chair, it gave an ominous creak, but he knew it could easily bare his weight.

Frost gave a strangled shout after several heart pounding minutes and Pitch opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. The potency of the boy's fear made him feel lightheaded and unstoppable. It was an odd combination, but one he could certainly appreciate. He hadn't felt this sensation in centuries and he definitely craved more. He looked to Jack Frost, absently noticing that he'd been left winded from the amount of fear he was taking in, and studied the boy with dilated eyes.

The Winter Spirit was oddly still for the amount of fear he was undergoing. Pitch knew that this was usually the point where most people began to move about, the body's feeble attempt at waking oneself. Frost's limbs however, remained stuck at his sides. His chest was rising rapidly and his head twisted from side to side occasionally, but the boy was not thrashing like others often did.

A gasp cut through the younger Spirit's panting before an unstifled shriek echoed throughout the room. Pitch felt himself collapse in a boneless heap, the chair being the only thing to have kept from failing to the floor. In that moment, he suddenly felt as if Frost's fear was too much. The ability to think was almost an impossible feat, leaving his state of being stagnant, almost catatonic. The ridiculous thought soon left him though as the rushing flood of power crawled under his skin, making him let out a high-pitched, nearly delirious, laugh.

Some more minutes passed before Frost finally grew quiet, the terror died down, and Pitch listlessly looked over at him, only to jump in surprise at seeing the Nightmare take shape. It wasn't a horse, but a wolf. Its lupine figure was large, perhaps only a head shorter than one of his Nightmares, and it bared its onyx sharpened teeth at him, growling ferociously. The Boogeyman reclaimed what he could of his senses and slowly stood up, warily watching the beast that showed no signs of calming down. It studied him hungrily and Pitch ruthlessly pushed back the feeling of apprehension as he saw that its' eyes were red.

This was not a Nightmare, it was a Night Terror.

Just as the Night Terror seemed ready to lunge for him, Frost let out a choked sound that sounded like a sob, bolting upright in a sitting position, instantly attracting the wolf's attention. The boy gazed at the massive creature that hovered over him, fear mounting upon the dread that was already there. Pitch knew that to the Night Terror, Frost must have looked like a succulent cut of prime rib. He felt his eyes widen as watched the wolf dive for the boy's throat, jaws aiming for his jugular.

Frost was quick though and he brought up his right arm on impulse. The boy's resulting scream as the wolf's teeth tore at his skin snapped Pitch out his daze. He summoned his scythe and struck, knocking the Night Terror off of Frost and into the wall. It was made out of Nightmare Sand though, so his weapon did little more than disorient the creature. He quickly dismissed the sand scythe and summoned one made of shadows in its place. The Night Terror charged at him this time, but Pitch was already slashing at him.

It howled in pain as the shadows tore through its chest, the gash was not deep enough to make its form burst however. Pitch prepared himself to strike again, but the Night Terror was closer now, taking advantage of his scythe's long length. The Nightmare King jerked back as a bolt of white and cold struck the wolf. A spray of icicles easily shredded through its hide of coarse black sand. He blinked as the grains tumbled to the ground, piling into a large mound, still and lifeless.

"What was that?!" Frost shouted, his tone bordering on hysterical. Pitch turned to the younger Spirit, forcing himself to ignore the boy's terror. Frost was visibly shaking, pressed up against the dirty wall with his staff clenched tightly in his left hand while his right arm hung loosely at his side. Streams of red blood dripped downwards into a decently sized puddle. The boy clenched his teeth, dropping to the knees as he pressed a hand over the impressive injury.

"That was a Night Terror." Pitch answered as he approached the sand, eyeing it distrustfully before turning his attention back to Frost. He crouched down in front to the Winter Spirit, who blinked slowly before giving a delayed flinch. The boy's eyes fluttered, likely feeling faint from the blood loss. "They're much worse than any Nightmare."

"I feel… really sleepy…" Frost muttered as his head wobbled. Glancing at the bite marks in his arm, Pitch caught sight of a cluster of sand burrowing its way into the boy's body. Acting quickly, he formed the shadows into a makeshift dagger before stabbing it into Frost's wounds. The boy yelled and lashed out, his foot smashing into Pitch's shin, causing the man to grunt. "What are you doing?!" Frost shouted as he struggled to get away. The Boogeyman remained silent and focused; he needed to get the Nightmare Sand out. He continued to dig with the blade until the gathering of sand spilled onto the floor, making one last attempt to move before becoming idle. Pitch backed away from Frost and the boy tracked his movement with wide wary eyes, curling around his injured limb protectively.

"I just saved you from falling into a nightmare induced coma." The Nightmare King huffed as he resisted the urge to rub his shin. "If that sand had gotten into your blood stream–" He paused, not for an added effect, but because he didn't know for certain what could have happened. The sand would have indeed put Frost to sleep, of that he was certain. But from there the rest was just speculation. One option was that it would stay safely hidden inside his body, using the boy as an incubator to create more Night Terrors, trapping him in an endless nightmarish sleep. Or it could have just chosen to devour Frost's mind, leaving an empty husk behind from its feeding frenzy.

In truth, Pitch had no idea what they were capable of.

"Wait, hold on a second! What's a night terror?" The Winter Spirit asked before clenching his jaw in pain. Pitch sighed in irritation, but silently summoned one his Nightmares. It trotted to his side dutifully, giving wide berth to the pile of sand in the center of the room, and whickered in greeting.

"Be a dear and fetch something to bind Jack's wound with, would you." He ordered, brushing a hand along its long neck before sending it away. He looked at Frost unhappily before approaching the boy, offering a hand that the child glared at briefly before accepting it. Pitch was once again taken aback by how light the younger Spirit was as he redirected Frost onto the bed. The boy gave him a suspicious glance, but quickly returned to checking over his wound. It wasn't a pretty sight.

A large piece of skin was peeled back, leaving it to flap around in a grotesque manner. The groves and bumps of torn muscles were a predominant bulging red. A tendon could be seen poking through, but the truly grisly sight was the amount of blood that seemed to poor out of the wound. Surprisingly though, its flow was congealing quickly, healing fast even by a Spirits standard. Frost brought his face lower to his injury and blew lightly, causing ice particles to seal over the cuts. It didn't escape Pitch's notice that Frost seemed to know what he was doing, telling him that the boy had received injuries of a similar kind before.

The Nightmare returned sooner than he'd expected, carrying what looked like a red scarf in its mouth. He gave it a pat on the head in thanks and offered the scarf to Frost, watching as the boy tore off the remains of his sweater sleeve to clean up the blood from his person.

"Night terrors are, as I told you, worse than nightmares." Pitch began; Frost paused for a second, but quickly continued his ministrations. "Human physiologists have labeled it is a disorder that causes feelings of terror or dread to an extreme level. About six percent of children and adolescents suffer from sleep terror episodes, while less than one percent of adults have the disorder." The younger Spirit expertly tied the knitted scarf around the wound, using his left hand and mouth to tighten it in place. He gave a muffled grunt at the pressure being exerted on the injury, but that was all.

"I only ever created one Night Terror from my sand before almost a century ago. At the time, I had no idea what I'd produced. When I foolishly tried to command it, the beast lashed out at me. It took down twenty-two of my Nightmares before I was finally able to subdue it." Pitch studied Frost intently as another bout of fear came from the boy. The attack and injury covered the side effects one exhibited after having a night terror. Rapid breathing, elevated heart rate, and the baseline of fear that was inconsolable. Sweating was absent from the list, but that was probably due to his cool body temperature. Frost hid his distress well, but his act could not fool the Boogeyman.

"Your nightmare progressed into a night terror rather quickly. I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late." He lied. In reality he'd been too focused on enjoying Frost's fear to notice that his nightmare had changed into something darker. "Rest assured though, in the future I will stop the nightmare before it can progress further." The boy looked positively ill at his words, and Pitch got another taste of his cold dread. This time it was the fear of falling asleep. If this kept up, Frost would likely develop hypnophobia. Despite the situation, Pitch couldn't help but chuckle darkly at that thought. He loved exploiting phobias.

"So we're done for the night right? I can… leave?" The boy's eyes roamed over the room in confusion, likely realizing he didn't recognize their surroundings. "Uh, where are we?"

"My Dark Cave." He answered evenly, not sure what to make of the interested look on Frost's face.

"You don't mind if I look around sometime, do you?" The Winter Spirit asked and Pitch shrugged.

"I care not what you do with your time Jack, just that you leave my Nightmares alone." He narrowed his brows at the boy, getting an infuriating eye roll in return.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll leave them alone, scout's honor." Frost muttered and Pitch scoffed at the very idea of the mischievous Spirit ever being a boy scout. "Oh man, this was my favorite shirt." The boy groaned as he looked over his ruined clothes. Blood stains and torn fabric littered his right side. Not even his trousers had escaped the incident, as a splatter of red trailed across both of his thighs.

"I'm certain you can find replacements." He commented blandly. "But now I really must take my leave. I have things to do, children to make scream." Frost looked guilty for a second before he shuddered and lowered his head.

"When do you want to do the other…?" The boy trailed off, losing his never to the new feeling of alarm that attacked him. "I still have six nightmares left." He admitted weakly.

Pitch resisted the urge to put the boy to sleep once more, making him suffer through consecutive nightmares. He knew that amount of fear, added to the trauma that he'd already been through tonight, would leave its ugly mark on Frost. And while he didn't particularly care for the boy one way or the other, he certainly had no desire to torture the little Spirit. Instead he gave a short chuckle before shaking his head, leaving the boy on the bed as he disappeared into the shadows.

"Let's just leave it as a surprise, shall we?"

~We Can Make Them Believe~

Man, been a while since I'd updated this. I admit I had to force myself to keep writing during some parts, but hopefully I did you guys justice with this chapter. I had to get a little into what Jack thought about the Guardians, he still hasn't had time to focus on what he's done, but we did get a glimpse at where he stood with them before and after he met them.

Surprisingly there was a lot from Pitch's perspective going on in this chapter. Originally I meant to only give him about a thousand words, but then it just kept snowballing from there. (Ha, snowballing! Get it?) The Night Terror was an on the spot idea that I just decided to run with. I think it fits. I know you all are probably curious about what Jack's nightmare was, but don't worry, we have six more opportunities to see what it was. Huh, I think I like torturing Jack a little too much.

–Hexalys