A/N: Hey guys, welcome back! Welcome to my new favorites/followers and unending thanks to my reviewers: Jarvis68, somekindofzombie, and Starcrier. You're phenomenal ^_^

After I'd stopped crying, I rested my head heavily against Trick's collarbone, arms wrapped tightly around his waist even as his own crushed me against him. He was so warm. It felt amazing compared to how cold it was without my own inner fire. I buried my face deeper into his chest, not wanting to let go of him until I absolutely had to.

The spirit of Halloween pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "It's odd, you being so cold."

"Yeah," I gave a humorless chuckle, "you're telling me."

"I wish I could just drag you out of here with me." He sighed into my hair, his fingers digging into me.

I smiled, pulling back a bit as his hold loosened on me. "I know. I wish you could, too—it would save me a lot of trouble.

"How do I look?" I asked, smoothing my hair back from my face.

Trick smiled warmly at me, looking as though he wanted to pull me back against his chest. "Radiant."

"Was that a pun, sir?" I was barely able to keep the laughter from my voice. I took a step back from him as his arms tried to close around me again, giving him a slight shake of my head, and the flames in his eyes flickered sadly at the rejection, the smile slipping from his face. "Trick,"

"I know, leannán." He sighed, reaching across the slight distance between us to interlock our fingers. "It's just—I can't help it. Knowing that you'll be stuck in here while I'm out there doesn't help."

I ran my free hand along the side of his face "I'll be fine. I can handle myself."

"Just let me help you in what little way I can." His mismatched eyes were serious as he switched his holds on my hands for my face, pulling me close and slanting his mouth across mine as I started to protest, his fire spilling into me. He tastes like burned sugar, I thought as I leaned into him. I closed my eyes against our combined brilliance as the intrusion of his flames caused mine to flare up. His lips stayed on mine even after the energy flow between us shut off, his fingers locked in my hair. "Is breáliom tú, mo chroí, mo ghrá, mo shaol, mo tine, mo leannan." He murmured between kisses.

My heart soared in my chest as I grinned, opening my eyes to meet the swirling fires in his gaze. My hair scintillated as it lifted on the breeze swirling around us due to my restored powers and elation. "Trick, I—,"

My arms were empty and cold except for the barest lingering hint of Trick's warmth as he disappeared, sucked back into the real world.

I felt numb with shock at having Trick disappear so suddenly. Don't let it show. My conscience piped in immediately as I turned towards Helm's Deep, mindful of the great tears in the ground from Trick's arrival even as I flew over them. If Trick is gone, then Pitch is back, or around, or however this area works. It's time to get a move on; first things first, it'd be best if you got your hands on weapon and conserved your flames.

Trick sat upright with a start, gasping for air and searching the immediate area around him for Wisp. "Wisp? Leannán?" He called, struggling to his feet even as his muscles strained and screamed in protest, the acrid tastes of iron and earth coating his tongue. Black spots clouded his vision as his head swam with disorientation and exhaustion.

Trick, I— what? What had she been about to say?

As his vision cleared, he realized he had no idea where he was. His boots pressed firmly into thick rugs covering a stone floor, thick timber beams supporting a high, vaulted ceiling.

A strange sound, almost like a grunt, sounded behind him, and Trick slowly turned to see a large, furry man-thing standing behind him, surprise and confusion mingling in its hairy face. "The hell are you?" Trick wondered aloud, taking a few steps back.

The beast looked Trick over, its gaze stopping on Trick's tattooed arms and chest with something like recognition, the confusion deepening. Trick let out a startled yell as it shambled forward, tripping in his weakened state over a small table that lay overturned in front of him. The bear-like creature reached forward, catching Trick by the arm before he could fall while grunting at him in its weird gibberish. It hauled him up and pulled him around the table, towing him quickly down the hallway.

"Hey! Hey! Let me go, you damn monster!" Trick cursed, thrashing in its formidable grip. "I have things to do, people to see—,"

He cut off with an odd, strangled sound as he was dragged into an enormous space filled with diseased-looking blackish fire, the large globe in the middle of the room spinning even as it burned.

"You!" Trick's head swiveled around to see North bearing down on him from across the circular platform, cutlasses flashing in the weak light from the dark flames. The old man didn't look anywhere close to jolly as he shoved the tip of his sword against Trick's throat, the sharp metal biting into his flesh. The trickster waited for North to finish spewing his stream of Russian curses. "What have you done?!"

"I don't—,"

North cut him off, waving his swords around wildly as he spoke. "My workshop is in flames, the toys have been destroyed or stolen, the elves and yetis are beside themselves!"

"I didn't—,"

"I thought you were good, like Wispy!" North continued, looking betrayed. "I trusted you with her! Instead, what do you do? You come into the workshop with all of these Nightmares, burning everything in sight—,"

Trick's temper threatened to blow. "Look here, you daft old man!" He snapped, silencing the old Guardian. "That was not me! Well, it was my body, but it wasn't me."

"What do you mean, it was you but was not?" North asked, brow furrowed, as he got down to Trick's level, swords poised to lop off the trickster's head.

North motioned for the great beast to release a struggling Trick and it complied, eyeing the trickster warily as he stood. "After I took Wisp I revived her. In the process, Pitch's sand got inside me, like a bad infection, and it lets him just hop into my head whenever he chooses." Damn, there's that sound again, he grit his teeth as a high-pitched ringing tolled through his mind, continuing. "He's been using my body like a damn puppet!"

"And what do you know of what's happening while he is using you?" North asked, looking skeptical but not necessarily doubtful.

Trick's hair caught in his eyes as he shook his head furiously. "Out here? I have no idea, obviously. Mentally—,"Trick hissed in pain, clenching his jaw, and waited to continue until the sound had dulled almost to a mute. "When Pitch takes over, I go into this enormous nightmare world—what Wisp called a collective subconscious, I think."

"Wisp?!" North's expression became more alert, and Trick jumped to the side to avoid being impaled on one of North's swords. "You saw Wispy? Was she alright?!"

"She had a cut on her cheek, and she looked like she'd been dragged through a bush backwards, but I think she was fine." She was exuberant enough in her greeting, he thought, unable to suppress a roguish grin at the memory, and felt his fire hum and crackle hotter in his veins. Right, not the time for that. "She always handles herself pretty well, though."

North gave a small smile. "Yes, this is true. But! You must explain this odd consciousness to me."

Trick gave a furtive glance about the workshop, seeing the bear-beasts and tiny elves (which really inhibited the process more than anything with their shenanigans) working to put out the vile fires. "Shouldn't we be helping the wee ones and the beasts?"

"The elves and yetis have the fires handled. As for the presents…." North looked unsettlingly ancient as he heaved a tired sigh, sheathing his blades. "We will take care of this in time. No, we must focus on stopping Pitch and getting Wisp back."

Not necessarily in that order, Trick thought. Like hell he'd make her stay in that nightmare world any longer than she absolutely had to. He followed Old Saint Nick into his workshop, tensing when the door automatically locked behind him, the sound barely audible over the blaring Russian orchestra music. North offered him a platter packed with baked goods, but after seeing an elf spit a cookie back onto the plate, Trick opted for the formidably-sized sugar dish from the tea service left on a table by the fireplace. After pouring half of the bowl's contents down his throat, Trick placed the sugar dish back. He nodded towards the blanket-laden stool between the service and the fireplace. "Is that where she usually sits?"

"Ah," North cast a sad look at the stool with a bittersweet smile, "yes. She likes to watch me make the concepts for the toys."

Trick appreciated North's lack of past-tense when referring to Wisp. "She probably hums along, too."

North whacked Trick on the back, almost toppling the trickster. "We will get Wispy back. Now," North sat on his worn stool, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers, "tell me more of this nightmare world that has trapped the little fiery one."

I banged my lightly-burning fist against the enormous wooden doors, shaking my hand to put the flames out afterwards. "CUPID! EROS!"

I heard a clicking, mechanical sound, shortly followed by the door groaning open before me. Eros leaned in the doorway, blocking my passage. I eyed him warily, waiting for him to go all incubus on me again, but he just grinned lazily. "Welcome back. I knew you'd reconsi—," He cut off with a grunt as I punched him in the nose, sending him reeling back so I could enter.

Cupid chuckled as he locked the door behind me. "You deserved that one, brother-mine. I told you she was spoken for."

I blushed a bit at the last part. Had they seen us from all the way up here?!

Cupid had turned his attention to me, eyes crinkling as he smiled. "You're looking much better, my lady. What can we do for you?"

"I need to borrow a sword." I said simply, lacing my fingers together and watching fire spark to life along my knuckles before seeping back into my flesh. "You wouldn't mind sparing one, would you?"

"What do you need a sword for, gorgeous?" Eros' voice was thick and almost nasally as he turned to face me, pinching his nose shut and tilting his head back. Blood had spotted on his white t-shirt from his nose.

I noticed with satisfaction that thin lines of blood trickled down his arm. "I need it if I expect to be able to survive out there in the weird-ass wilderness."

Cupid didn't seem too keen on the idea. "Why don't you just stay here? With us?"

"I have things that need to get done."

Eros made a sound that I supposed was a snort. "Like what? Find the Holy Grail?"

"No, you jackass."I snapped, hair lifting a bit around me as I struggled with my temper. "I'm going to find a way out!"

The odd brothers blinked at me, and Cupid's wings gave a faint shudder. "Are you serious?" Eros gaped.

"Of course I am. Who the hell wouldn't look for a way out?"

"But there isn't a way out." Cupid implored with me, eyes wide and ridiculously blue. "Eros and I looked for decades and never found one!"

I shrugged. "Maybe there isn't a way out. I don't know. But going out there and looking is way better than just camping out here until something happens. I'm not asking for your help; I'm asking for a sword."

They exchanged a glance that I could've sworn almost passed for telepathic communication, and Cupid took off towards the caves, hopefully to get my sword.

As soon as he disappeared around a rampart, Eros reached out and grabbed my arm, ignoring the way I tried to break out of his grip immediately. The blood on his hands was partially dry, leaving his fingers slightly sticky where they wrapped around my forearm. He ripped me forward, his breath hot on my ear as he all but hissed in it, "Listen up, starshine, I lied to Cupe a couple decades back. I think I did find a way out, but it's impossible to get to."

Impossible. I scoffed mentally. Try me. "Why? Where is it?"

"It's hard to miss." He sounded unusually grim as he continued. "There's this massive wall of fearlings and black sand. I'd bet my ass that if there is an escape from this hell hole, it's behind that."

"Why is it impossible to get to?" I repeated, pulling back a bit so that Eros wasn't breathing right into my ear.

He gave me an incredulous look. "Have you ever been around fearlings?!"

"I don't think so."

"Let me tell you, starshine: you don't want to be." His gaze was dead serious, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I pulled at my arm again, and he grudgingly released me, allowing for me to take a few steps back from him as Cupid came fluttering around the corner. His golden curls bounced as he ran towards us, sword and scabbard in hand.

"I looked through all of our weapons," the cherub-like boy informed us, "and this seemed the most suitable for your purposes. "

I took the sword by its hilt, surprised by how much lighter it was than I'd thought it would be, and unsheathed it for a better look. The thin sword gleamed like liquid mercury in the weak twilight as I pulled it free, holding it out in front of me. It was a rapier, the long, straight blade dropping into a sudden point at the end, delicate strands of metal swirling together as they curled up and over my hand protectively. The winged boys leapt backwards as I took a few practice swings with my new weapon.

Cupid's wings fluffed a bit as he watched me with mild apprehension. "Is the blade to your liking?"

"It's fantastic." I beamed, lowering my sword so its point rested against the rough stone floor. "Thank you."

Eros sidled forward, a wicked glint in his eye. "If you'd really like to show your appreciation—,"

He cut off with a sharp intake of breath, freezing in place. With a smirk I looked down, pointing with my gaze at where the sword's point was poised just below his waistband. "You can stop there, thanks."

"Alright," he sighed, giving a humorless chuckle, "alright. Cupe, will you please unlock the door for her?"

"Got it!"

I didn't lower my sword as Eros took a step back, hands raised in surrender. "See you around, starshine."

"Once I find the way out, I'll try and figure out a way to get you guys out, too." I kept my gaze locked with his arctic blue one. "I promise."

"Oddly enough, I believe you." He gave a real laugh at that, and I couldn't help but smile in response before turning and walking away towards Cupid and the door.

Trick rubbed his temples furiously against the building migraine as the voices of the Guardians around him rose in volume. He was so fecking tired of this—the waiting, the yelling, the hunger pangs (the sugar dish couldn't really hope to withstand his appetite). He'd been standing somewhat off to the side of the odd group for a little over an hour now, since North had called the others together after Trick told him all he knew of Pitch's little nightmare-world.

Which, to be completely honest, was close to abso-fecking-lutely nothing. He only knew for certain that his leannán was trapped in there, and that it was Pitch's fault. It didn't help his restlessness that every time he blinked or closed his eyes, he saw Wisp's face, eyes warm in her radiant face, her scintillating hair floating around them as he held her close. Trick, I—,

Golden sand drifted too close to his nose and he sneezed, fire flaring from his nostrils as a little flash. He let his hands drop to his side to see Sandman standing a bit off to the side, eyes wide as the little man stared fixedly at the trickster's nose. "Sorry, think I zoned out a bit. Were you trying to ask me something?"

"I think he was just worried about you, mate." A gruff voice grumbled from Trick's other side. Bunnymund picked at some nonexistent particle on his beloved boomerang as he spoke. "You looked troubled."

"'Troubled' is putting it lightly, isn't it?" Trick laughed drily.

The Easter Bunny's face twisted in a half-smile. "Maybe."

With a groan Trick leaned against the wall, scrubbing his hands over his face and into his hair. It was a show of how helpless he was feeling, to be sure, but he couldn't help it. "It's killing me, rabbit. I need to do something other than stand here while you all plot and argue. As soon as one of you has an idea, the rest of you shoot it down. How the hell does anything get done around here?!"

"It's actually never really like this." The kangaroo-like creature admitted, putting his boomerang away. "This whole thing might be a bag of worms, but she'll be apples."

Fucking hell, I have no idea what you just said. Trick blew some of his hair out of his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, and wished he had one of his masks on. He didn't mind being bare-faced around Wisp, but the others? Not as much. "I just feel so helpless."

"Don't worry, Blue." Bunny thumped Trick's shoulder as the spirit of Halloween wondered why Bunny had suddenly named a color. "Pitch's a bad trot. We'll get him."

Making a vague sound of agreement, Trick watched Bunny go over to the others once more before sitting back on his haunches before Sandman, a thought occurring to him. He put on his most charming smile, rubbing his tattooed hands together. "Oi, Sandy. Can I ask a favor of you?"

The smallest Guardian gave a half-shrug, a golden question mark forming above his head as if to say, Maybe; what's up?

Wouldn't it just be easier to form actual words than symbols? Trick thought. "Could you get in my head, like Pitch does?"

Have you lost your damn mind? Sandman's expression asked, shaking his head furiously from side to side.

"Couldn't you just try?!"

More adamant shaking, followed by placating hand motions and flashing sand symbols.

Trick pressed his lips to his knuckles and tried to reign in his temper, watching his tattoos flare and flicker with his agitation. This was so damn frustrating! If he could just get Pitch out of his head, he wouldn't have to worry about Pitch using him to spy on or hurt these people. If he could find Wisp, he wouldn't have to be around these damn leathcheann's, because she would know how to handle them.

He winced as that infernal ringing started up in his head again, eyes widening as he saw the brilliant coloring of his tattoos darken briefly before flashing back, like a shadow twitching just under his skin.

"Wee one," Trick began, his voice thick with stress, "you'd best knock me out, good and fast, as soon as my marks go dark, or I'm not sure what'll happen."

With a yell I brought my sword down on the clown's back, watching with satisfaction as it shattered into fragments of darkness that dissipated into nothingness. Not even fifteen minutes into my trek, I had been attacked by cave trolls. I'd had to sprint away from them through the dark forest, and I had been fighting and running since. Goblins, the Fire Gang, werewolves, and now even fucking clowns.

Still running, I exploded out into—of all places—the queue area for the Haunted Mansion ride in Walt Disney World. When I turned around, the area where I'd just come from was blocked off was blocked off by a solid wall of blackness.

My shoulders ached from how much I'd been using the rapier, as did my back, and my arms were covered in scratches and bruises. I held my breath, lungs screaming as I listened for any signs of nearby enemies, before stooping to wipe off my sword on my skirts, the scabbard buried in the eye of a petrified cave troll back by Helm's Deep. The only thing to be heard was the faint music from the ride ahead, which I hummed along to as I weaved through the queue.

"So what's the catch here, Pitch?" I asked softly, letting the fingers on my free hand trail along a monument in the shape of a large bath tub. "Are the ghosts going to be real and come after me? Are the zombies in the graveyard going to rise up?"

There was a shift in the atmosphere, but I ignored it, walking through the open doors, straight through the room of the stretching portraits to the loading area even as I heard light footsteps behind me. "What'll it be, o King of Nightmares? What will you torment me with next?" my voice dripped with acid at the last, and I whirled around, leveling my sword at—

My heart stuttered in my chest. "Emmy? Jenna?"

A/N: That seems like a good enough stopping place. Sorry it's not longer; work's insane and I want to get these out to you all as soon as possible. Thank you so much, please review!