Hey guys! So sorry I haven't been updating, I've been really busy lately:( This chapter is written from Sophie's point of view, let me know if you guys like it! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND REVIEWING:) It makes me so happy!

Hope you like this chapter, review or PM me if you have any comments or questions!

I swear, all I did was blink, and Jack's horrified face dissolved into nothing. I immediately bit down on the pale palm clamping my mouth shut. It tasted like salt water. The hand quickly jerked back from me. I jumped to the side and out of my attacker's arms. I spun on my heel to face him.

I was literally staring fear in the face. He smiled smugly at me, and I felt like throwing up. His yellow eyes looked me up and down, and took a step towards me. I automatically backed up from him. My heart beat so loudly, I was afraid he could hear it. I locked my eyes on him, afraid to look away.

"I'm so glad we can finally have this little chat, Sophie," Pitch hissed, circling around me.

"Chat? You call this a chat? This is, like, kidnapping, dude. Not okay," I stammered.

Pitch made a pouty face at me. "This was the only way I could get you to listen to me."

"Listen to you?"

Pitch leaned down and whispered in ear, "You don't need to hide how scared you are, sweetie. I can smell it off you."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What are you, a dog?"

Pitch chuckled. "Sophie, I really just want to help you."

"Dude, you've been...feeding off me for the past, like, two years!"

"How old were you when Jamie, uh, passed away? Fourteen? You know what they say, time flies when you're having fun." Pitch grinned. "I have a surprise for you."

Uh oh. Not a surprise. That did not sound good. Not good at all. I bit my lip anxiously. "I don't like surprises."

Pitch ignored me and snapped his fingers. Another bad sign. I looked around for something with a chainsaw about to start sprinting towards me, or maybe a massive, hairy spider with snapping pinchers, but didn't find anything but darkness.

"Um," I glanced over at where Pitch had been standing. "Was that supposed to... do something?"

I realized Pitch was gone. My shoulders slumped in frustration. I knew he wasn't really gone. He was probably watching me from the corner, like the creepy head-stroking guy he was.

"Soph?"

It was Jamie's voice.

No, please, no. Not Jamie. Anyone but Jamie. I squeezed my eyes shut. He wasn't real. That wasn't really Jamie. Jamie was dead. Jamie had been dead for two years. He wasn't coming back. Whatever this thing was, it was just a fake Jamie. Something Pitch came up with to torture me.

I felt him shake my shoulder.

"Soph, it's me. I swear, please, you have to believe me."

Every inch of me wanted to turn around and dive into one of his trademark big-brother hugs, but I knew I couldn't. That was what Pitch wanted me to do. I just had to ignore him. Maybe he would go away once Pitch realized I wasn't falling for it.

"Sophie! It's your big brother, silly! What's wrong?"

Something inside of me snapped. I spun on my heel to face this thing head on. Kudos for facing my fears, right? I was going to tell this thing off, then go smack Pitch for doing this shitty thing to me.

Unfortunately, my plan didn't exactly pan out the way I wanted it to. Jamie stood before me. Not some altered, slightly disfigured, clearly fake Jamie with Jamie's voice. It was Jamie, exactly as I remembered him. His brown hair was a little messy, but not too messy, like the way I ruffled it before Jamie went out on his first date. His big brown eyes reminded me of the melted milk chocolate we'd eat on our s'mores when we went camping. And his freckles were at their peak freckly-ness, like in mid-August on a sunny afternoon in the park. Everything looked exactly right, even the worry line on his forehead he'd only recently acquired.

"Soph? Why are you looking at me like that? Have I got something on my face?"

I just continued to stare at him, my anger melting away. My throat felt tight, and it was getting hard to breath normally. How could this not be my big brother? My big brother who said he'd always protect me. My big brother who told me all about the guardians in the first place, and who said they'd always be real as long as I believed in them. My big brother who stuck up for me when I tripped on the stairs at school in second grade and kids nicknamed me Klutzy. I didn't mind, really, I mean, I fall down a lot. I'm okay with that. But Jamie was outraged when he heard a couple older kids shouting it after me, and punched a ginger kid right in the nose. Nobody ever called me Klutzy again, I can assure you of that.

I wiped away a tear with shaky hands. "No," I said softly, backing up from the confused Jamie. "You're not him. You can't be."

Jamie tried to pull me into a hug, but I wrenched myself free from his grasp. I turned to run, towards what I didn't know, but suddenly Jamie materialized right in front of me. I let out a surprised yelp, then covered my mouth with my hands.

"Soph, I don't get it," Jamie said, pacing in front of me. "I'm back. That's all you ever wanted."

I didn't say anything and wiped the tears from my cheeks in frustration. He's not real. He's not real. He's not-

Jamie was so close to me I could smell him. He smelled like pine needles and Colgate toothpaste, just like I remembered. I gulped and hung my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face. Jamie reached out and tugged on my bangs, like he used to do when I was little and tried to cut my own hair. I barely stifled a sob and sunk down to my knees.

"Not real, not real, not real," I repeated as I tucked my knees up to my chest and rocked back and forth on the cold ground.

Jamie's voice only got louder, and his smell only got stronger in my nose. I tried to think about something other than my dead brother begging me to look him in eyes, but I couldn't. After what felt like hours of never ending torture, I finally looked up.

Jamie stared at me with his big, brown eyes, his little worry line pressed a little bit. He was crouched down next to me, a little smile tugging at the right corner of his mouth. "Heya, kiddo."

I wiped my puffy eyes again and I whispered hoarsely, "Why are you doing this?"

Jamie's face somehow shifted, a smirk spreading over his sweet face. He spoke with Pitch's voice, "For fun."

My lips trembled, and my vision blurred with salty tears again. I made a sad, incomprehensible whimper, and the fake Jamie only smiled wider. "Stop, please, stop it."

"Don't you love your big brother?" It was Jamie's voice again. I ducked my head in my legs again and stifled a loud, choked sob. My breath came in shaky gasps.

"You're not him, you're not him," I muttered, trying to piece myself back together again. I managed to lift my head up from my knees. Jamie crouched directly in front of me, so I had no choice but to look right at him.

"Don't you miss me?"

"Miss-miss you? I don't miss you, I miss my big brother," I sobbed.

"It's me, Jamie," He reassured me as he played with the ends of my hair. "You grew it out."

Just for a second, I let him in. My walls were already crumbling, and it was just something Jamie would notice. Before I could stop myself, I had my arms around his neck. Fake personality or not, physically, it was Jamie. He was 5'11", but the doctors said he wasn't finished growing yet. Regardless, I had to go on my tiptoes to I could reach him. I buried my face in his evergreen smelling jacket and squeezed my blurry eyes shut. He smelled just like the woods by our house. Two tears fell from my eyelashes.

"I love you," I whispered, even though a part of me knew I wasn't really talking to my brother. Maybe I could fool my body into believing it was him, but my mind wouldn't really accept it.

Still, as Jamie clutched me tight, I really believed there could be a real part of Jamie in this Pitch-controlled nightmare. Then, he spoke, not in my brother's warm voice, but in the cold English accent of Pitch. "How sweet."

I lurched back out of the thing's arms. My jaw clenched as my fists clenched. My eyes were still stinging with frustrated tears. This asshole was really starting to annoy the heck out of me. I glared at the evil smirk Pitch had spread across my dead brother's sweet face.

"Your brother loves you very much."

Did I almost hear...sympathy? I stared at my fuzzy brown boots and dug my right foot into the floor, trying not to cry again. I was playing right into Pitch's plan, and I knew it. But I couldn't really help it. It was my brother, the one person I might do anything for.

"You're not my brother. How the hell would you know anything?" I croaked.

"Oh, we've had a few chats, Jamie and I," Pitch examined my brother's fingernails.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Now this guy was really not making sense. "He's dead. You can't talk to him-"

Pitch laughed Jamie's laugh. I shuddered. "You silly girl! Jamie Bennet is not dead."

My breath caught in my throat.

Jamie Bennet is not dead.

He was lying. There was no way-

Jamie Bennet is not dead.

Every inch of me longed for Pitch to be telling the truth. I knew he knew it, too. I didn't trust Pitch for a second, but if he knew where Jamie was...

So, Jamie Bennet is...alive?

"You're a liar," I spat.

"I do a lot of things, kiddo, but I don't lie. People are more scared of the truth than lies, you know," Pitch replied nonchalantly. I flinched when he called me kiddo. That was Jamie's nickname for me, but I guessed Pitch knew that, too. I knew he was right. Sometimes the truth hurt more than a white lie.

"I have no reason to trust you. You've been coming in my room every night for six years, and giving me nightmares, and pretending to be Jamie, and..." I searched for the right words to describe him. Pitch waited patiently for me to continue, looking a little amused. I sighed and crossed my arms in front of my chest. "You're just a douchebag, okay?"

Pitch rolled my brother's kind eyes and groaned, "Don't be so sensitive."

"You've gotta be joking."

"What can I say? I've got to have a little fun! You of all people should understand that, since you keep snogging the guardian of it," Pitch scrunched up his nose in disgust.

His words sounded so wrong coming from my brother's mouth. "You're sick."

"Thank you," Pitch sneered.

"Get out of my brother and talk to me yourself, you coward." I prayed that I sounded brave, like all the characters in books and movies did when they called other people cowards. The truth was, I was desperate to get rid of the twisted version of Jamie. I felt like I was going to puke.

Pitch stuck out Jamie's bottom lip and gave me Jamie's trademark puppy eyes, the ones he'd give Mom and Dad when he really wanted something. I swallowed back the prickly feeling in my eyes. "But I like impersonating the dead. Or...not so much dead."

"God, will you just stop it? Jamie's dead, alright? You're not gonna twist me into thinking he's not so I'll get disappointed and-"

"What if I knew a way to see him again?"

I fell dead silent, trying hard to think straight. Tell me, I begged in my mind. My instincts wouldn't let me say it, though. I shouldn't trust a word coming from this thing's mouth. Still, I wasn't kidding when I said I'd do anything for Jamie.

Jamie wouldn't want me to.

He'd want me to forget him, or at least move on with my life. That was a little hard when Pitch was basically handing me a way to get my brother back on a silver platter. After all, I wouldn't want Jamie to bring me back if I had died in his place. Of course, I wouldn't want him to be sad about it, either, but it's not like I could really help that. I chewed on my bottom lip anxiously.

"I know you want to see him again, sweetheart. It's okay. It's natural," Pitch said softly as he reached out to touch my hair. I stepped back a little from him. I didn't like it when he called me "sweetheart," or "kiddo," or even "Soph." I didn't like talking to him at all. I couldn't think straight.

"You can really get him back?" I whispered.

"Only if you want me to."

Of course I wanted him to. Of course I wanted Jamie back, so Jack would feel less guilty about me, and I could just feel happy again. I didn't even have to tell Pitch all this, he just nodded his head sympathetically. Since when did this guy actually care about my feelings? I knew this had to be part of his plot. "What do you want? You can't expect me to believe you're doing this out of the...goodness of your heart or something."

"What? I can't help out my favorite-"

"Nope. Just tell me what you want."

Pitch sighed. "I don't want anything. I'm trying to be nice."

"If you were trying to be nice, you wouldn't have kidnapped me!" I scoffed.

"That's my version of nice."

"Great," I muttered sarcastically.

"Do you want your brother back or not?" Pitch demanded.

I paused, and then the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. I cracked. "Yes, just, please. I'll do anything for him."

"I know you will," Pitch smiled as he snapped his long fingers.