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Jack breathed in the cold air deeply. He had flown from the North Pole to Burgess again, and now was standing on his lake he had awoken from days before.

Days.

The spirit had only been awake for a few days, but it already felt like a lifetime. With the nightmare attacking, his training, discovering the truth and now flying to Burgess, Jack's limbs ached dully and sharp pains were erupting from his shoulder again. The bite on his neck stung and he could feel a small trickle of blood running down to his new armour.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

Jack shook his head, meaning to get rid of his negative thoughts, but only caused his neck wound to complain painfully; the spirit brought a hand up to the bite, clutching it whilst hissing.

"Ouch." Jack muttered and sat on the lakeside, wiping his bloody hand on the light layer of snow next to him. The spirit pulled a face, noticing the lack of snow, and waved his hand before clamping it around his would again; slow, small flakes began to fall from the sky.

This was the start of the first snowfall in over seventy years for the residents in Burgess- later, news reporters would make their way to the centre of the town, talking about this long-awaited weather. Children would be running around behind them- children who had never seen snow in their back yard- and would be throwing snowballs or just stomping in the white powder in long, fluffy boots whilst giggling and shrieking with glee. Even their parents would venture outside, trying to hide their excitement, and would sweep the snow off their windowsill with an ungloved hand, smiling at its soft touch; they had only had seen snow very rarely, and even at those times it was very disappointing; the flakes would melt before anymore could pile on top to create snow.

Jack was unaware how much fuss the snow would create, however. He was still stuck in his thoughts.

Satisfied that the bite on his neck had stopped bleeding, the spirit peeled his hand away and coated the wound with a layer of frost. The cold ice made it become numb quickly.

"What now?" Jack looked up at the clouds above him which were slowly gathering for heavier snowfall, and was disappointed to see that there was no moon in the sky, watching him. It was day, after all, but Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of abandonment. He wiped his stained hand on the snow again, watching it slowly turn red. Somehow, this calmed him and he thought up a rough plan.

Find out where Pitch could've hid the guardians (Jack guessed that one place must be the 'lair' he found by his lake, but he had no clue where the others might be. Maybe he could follow some nightmares…)

Get the guardian/guardians out. That was the main objective of his plan. How was he going to do that? He didn't know. Maybe he could just throw them into a portal? He had a feeling that Pitch wouldn't make it that easy.

Defeat Pitch. If Jack didn't want to end up in a coma for another seventy years, he had to beat Pitch.

Celebrate. Then sleep for a few centuries.

There was no way it was going to be that easy, but at least it was some kind of plan. But then again, he could create better.

"I'm gonna die." Jack sighed and moved into a comfier crossed-legged position.

What would happen if he died?

Could he die?

A memory flashed into his mind.

A blade, stabbed deep in his chest.

Pitch, holding the other end, grinning as blood- his blood- dripped onto the tarmac below.

The pain that shot through him.

The cries of his friends, his family, as he dropped to his knees, crying out as the pain was becoming unbearable…the blood seeping through his hands…Pitch, laughing…suffocating…

A small cry escaped from the spirit's lips as he recalled his last memory.

That night…he felt like he was definitely going to die. The feeling of drowning…the blood…

Yes, Jack decided. I definitely can die.

So what happened if he did? What if he died before he managed to save them all?

Just the thought of dying made Jack's chest tighten. Calming himself, the spirit raked a hand through his hair, thinking of the possibilities.

Could the guardians he had managed to save carry on? Even as the thought surfaced, Jack found himself shaking his head. There was a reason why the Moon said only he could do this. If the guardians were able to defeat Pitch, then why weren't they doing it now? The spirit sighed and stood up.

I just can't die until then. He thought, whilst stretching. No pressure.

He picked up his sword, twisting it in the sunlight in admiration for a few seconds, then snapped back to his task, pulling the hood up again over his hair, not realising that it had fallen.

"Better get going." Jack muttered to himself. He faintly remembered where the first 'lair' he had found all those years ago was, and knew it was (roughy) at the opposite side of the woods.

The spirit leapt into the air, scanning the trees below him as he made his way to the location. No sign of anything suspicious.

Where are all the nightmares?

Surely, there should be loads here, guarding the skies, so close to the entrance. But there was none. Jack's chest tightened; something was wrong.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through his leg.

His sword was snatched out of his hand.

He was falling…

Another sharp pain erupted in his other leg and Jack cried out, angling himself to see his attacker.

His eyes widened.

Not attacker. Attackers.

At least a dozen nightmares were surging towards him, kicking him as he fell with their hard hooves. Their whines filled the sky, and their red eyes blazed like fire.

They were waiting…they saw me as soon as I was in the sky…

One of the nightmares tried to kick Jack's stomach; however, its hoof shattered against his armour, and it screeched angrily.

The spirit landed.

He hit the ground hard enough to bounce upwards again a few inches. Hard enough to crack a few ribs through his armour. Coughing, Jack lifted his bruised arm and grabbed his sword which had landed next to him.

Nightmares neighed and landed on the spirit, trampling the areas which were unprotected. He screamed as the hooves made contact with his battered limbs.

"No! I can't die!" Jack gasped. He gripped the sword tightly. "Not…yet!" The spirit let frost explode around him, forcing all the nightmares off his body; they screeched, some of them bursting into dust. Panting, Jack graced himself onto his feet, leaning on his sword. His eyes flashed fiercely, glowing a bright blue.

"Fight me." He growled, standing straight. The remaining nightmares charged forward, snorting angrily. In one swift movement, Jack sliced them all with his ice-blade. The wind howled. The nightmares froze, each having a deep, blue scratch penetrating their skin.

There was silence.

Then the nightmares shattered into ice simultaneously as Jack stumbled backwards, sinking into his knees.

"It worked…" he let out a weak burst of laughter before lying down fully, staring at the clear sky. "I beat them..are you proud of me, Bunny?" He laughed again, letting his eyes close. Maybe sleep was the best in a situation like his. "You better be…"

A thin layer of snow began to cover Jack's body as he sighed peacefully, and let sleep take him.

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