A/N :

Xion5 : I don't think the song itself was the problem but the fact it kept repeating for hours and days. *g*

Nora Frost : Yes, he was off the Naughty List, North said so himself at the beginning of the movie shortly before he told Jack he was chosen as new guardian.

Q-A the Authoress : Holy crap. I don't even wanna imagine THAT. *is slightly disturbed*

Hanyoualchemist1 : *nods* Jack and pirates, it's just epic win.

DragonsAddicted : I'm not sure how anyone would successfully ground Jack, unless he was knocked out or badly injured...or blackmailed with something really really terrible. XD

everyone else : Thanks for your reviews, glad you liked the last chapter! :D

*Set before the movie*

Why was he here? What was his meaning of life? Solely spreading winter around the world year after year? Who had done it before he was born? Had there been another spirit just like him, alone, detested and isolated? Or had nature carried out the task of changing seasons on its own? Then why did the moon decide to make him of all people the Spirit of Winter? What had he done to deserve this fate? Was it supposed to be a reward or a punishment?

That night when he had risen from the lake and discovered his powers Jack had been excited and happy about being able to fly and creating those beautiful frost patterns and was eager to find out what else his new abilities comprised. In those few minutes he honestly thought he was blessed with a magical gift. As he noticed the small settlement in the distance the need of showing his powers to other people got the better of him. He had to tell someone, was curious what their reaction would be like, was delighted to imagine their looks of awe and wonder. And besides that, he also wanted to know where exactly he was.

But then that child ran through him, making him feel like he was being ripped apart. Like a part of him was dissolving for a short but excruciating moment. Did this really happen? Or was it just a bad dream? More people passed through him and none of them even looked in his direction. They didn't see him. Didn't hear his shouts. To them he didn't exist. He was a ghost. Or wasn't he?

After the unpleasant encounter he wandered through the forest aimlessly. What was he supposed to do now? Where should he go?

It took Jack several days to get his flying skills under control. Still, he was far from being elegant and graceful but at least the wind didn't whirl him around like the contents of a snowglobe anymore and he didn't crash-land...most of the time. As soon as he thought he was ready for it he began searching for other villages but wherever he showed up no one paid attention to him and when he stood in someone's way they walked right through him. Someone somewhere had to see him! He traveled to more villages, cities, states. Nothing. No sign of anyone acknowledging his existence. But he refused to give up just yet. He couldn't. Didn't want to accept the harsh reality.

After two years he had been to every country on every continent. Had met countless humans, adults as well as children. No one saw him. No one talked to him. No one heard his pleas. The last tiny glimmer of hope that was left in him died when he had finished his journey around the globe and had to realize that he was alone. Totally on his own. Unseen. Unheard. Untouched.

Decades passed. Jack got used to being on his own. He didn't like it but there was nothing he could do against it so he did his best to deal with the situation. To his own surprise he had figured out that it was his job to spread winter and learned how to do it pretty quickly. Probably it was intuition, something running in his blood which subconsciously told him what to do. Whatever it was, he was grateful that he could figure out something at all.

And yet, with every year gone by he turned more bitter. Seeing children playing together. Young couples holding hands. People talking and laughing. Hugging each other. Patting someone on the back. Looking their counterpart in the eye. He felt guilty for being jealous but he failed to suppress those emotions. He wanted it so desperately. Be seen. Be heard. Be touched. Why couldn't he have a little bit of happiness just like them? Why did he have to be invisible? Wouldn't he be able to fulfill his winter duties if people could see him? But why did the moon burden him with such a fate?

Just then an idea popped up in his mind that wouldn't leave him until he got chosen as a guardian around 250 years later. There was only one explanation for it. This was a punishment. It wasn't a gift or a blessing or anything wonderful like that. No, he was being punished for something he must have done in a life he couldn't even remember. Why else should the moon do this to him?

When he woke up in the icy lake and saw the bright sphere shining down on him he felt at ease, safe, not scared anymore. Like it would protect him and only had the best intentions concerning his well-being. Well, that obviously turned out to be not true. He wasn't doing fine. He wasn't happy. He kept telling himself that he was alright and could deal with it but after 50 years he didn't believe his own lies anymore.

With the increasing sadness and loneliness came the anger. Anger directed at the moon for burdening him with this fate. But at the same time he was blaming himself for whatever he had done wrong. It must have been something horrible. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to know. Although he might understand the moon's decision better if he found out. If Jack could live with himself afterwards was another matter. His mind kept torturing him, no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts aside. That one question, no, this one word haunted him.

'Why?' Why, why, why?

Many times he had asked the moon and never gotten any kind of reply or reaction whatsoever. Was this silent treatment another part of his punishment? Was the moon too disgusted of him to even bother talking to him? Or was it up to him to figure out things on his own? But if that was the case, couldn't the moon at least offer a tiny bit of guidance? Just once?

Jack doubted that the bright sphere would help him after his phase of utter hatred against it had begun. After throwing a tantrum and screaming profanities at it he would have been immensely suprised if it did. But he needed to vent his frustrations, he had to let it out. Isolation had destroyed his cheerful self, that part of his soul that had kept him going for decades while slowly crumbling to pieces. He had very scarce encounters with a few other spirits and those hadn't proceeded very well. At some point he actually wished he would be invisible to them as well.

More years passed and the rage turned to pure despair. Of course had he been desperate during all those decades but he managed to keep it under control, covered by a layer of bitterness and anger. But now those emotions receded and all he felt was sadness, fear and hopelessness.

He had turned 87 and hadn't changed physically at all. How should he, he was an immortal. And it scared him. It scared him to think about his future. What lay ahead of him? An eternity of loneliness and being despised by spirits, the only beings, who could see him? Needless to say he didn't like this thought one bit.

During the day he focused on his work, spread snowfall, caused blizzards and created beautiful frost patterns wherever he could. Roamed the world, watched people, kept himself busy. But when the night approached everything became quiet. How he hated the silence. It made him feel calm and his body relaxed as he rested on the branch of his tree at the lake in Burgess. And exactly that was the moment when the exasperation hit him full force. He was alone, no one was there to comfort him, no one cared. Cold tears ran down his face and he couldn't stop them. He didn't want this life anymore and cursed his immortality. How badly he longed for someone to hug him, to say everything would be alright. It never happened and probably never would.

How many nights had he spent crying? Jack didn't know. Seasons kept changing and he fell deeper and deeper into the pit of despression. He still did his job as the Spirit of Winter but his heart wasn't really in it anymore. He had no fun. Just did it because this was the only useful thing he could do. The sole reason why he was there. His meaning of life.

The sadness ate him up from the inside out. It destroyed him. That's when he realized he had to fight it. He couldn't let those negative emotions rule his life. Eternity lay ahead of him and the prospect of dwelling in despair for the rest of his life didn't appeal to him one bit. He had to make the best of his situation. No more tears were left and he was literally sick of grief. It didn't have any use. It didn't change his life. It only made coping with it even worse. So he decided to ignore the pain, the loneliness and the fear as much as he could and kept his mind busy with other things.

From this day on he became the famous troublemaker, the prankster, the number one on top of the Naughty List. He had fun, interacted with people no matter if they appreciated his efforts or not and disregarded the fact that they couldn't see him. He just pretended they could or at least would someday.

He was a free spirit, he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. No one stopped him. No one cared. And he was fine with it. That's what he continued to convince himself of. He didn't need anyone. He was totally fine on his own. He would enjoy his freedom as long as he could. Because one day he wouldn't be alone anymore. People would start believing in him, other spirits would accept and respect him, maybe even become his friends.

He was around 100 years old, how long would it take to reach those goals? He couldn't imagine that it would last another 100 years or even more for his one wish to come true. No, it would happen soon, it had to. No matter what he had done in the past, that past he couldn't even remember, no matter how much he deserved this fate, this punishment, the moon surely wouldn't be so cruel and let him suffer in silence till the end of time. One day he would be happy. Truly happy. And he kept dreaming about this one day almost every night for the next 200 years.