*Author's Notes* Hello, and welcome to the second portion of the Darkest Nightmare. Today's episode features Detective Owens being a complete and utter jerk. *Advisory* I do not own, and never will own The Nightmare Before Christmas. That honor goes to the Walt Disney Corporation. ALL HAIL THE WALT DISNEY CORPORATION. A big thank you for all of the reviews that I received from Chapter One. They were very much appreciated. Like the story? Review it! Hate the story? Review it! Have a burning question? Review it! That said, please enjoy. Or don't! No one's forcing you. (Except, perhaps for the Sheriff's secret police.) Thank you. This has been a public service announcement.

The Darkest Nightmare

Chapter Two: On the Level

"We have to think of a plan," Sally murmured as they walked out of Gorgonne's office. "We can't just go in there blind, Hal." He grunted, but didn't say anything. As Gorgonne had explained the mission to them, he had slumped lower and lower into his chair, looking angrier and angrier as the minutes passed. Sally, on the other hand, had set her facial features into a smooth, attentive mask. She had kept her face that way until they reached the relative privacy of their office, where she allowed herself to frown deeply as she looked through Oogie Boogie's thick case file. It was filled with the numerous failures of their predecessors. She winced slightly as she read the fates that had befallen them. After a while, she glanced up at Hal, who so far had done nothing but lean against the beige-colored wall looking petulant. "Any ideas?" she asked sarcastically.

Hal closed all of his eyes briefly, and then said: "It doesn't matter. We're dead either way. We might as well go in there armed with peashooters and spitballs for all the backup Gorgonne's giving us."

Sally rolled her eyes. She hated it whenever Hal was in a cynical mood. It depressed her, and usually signaled a forthcoming violent outburst. "Don't be so glum, Hal. This is a huge… for lack of a better term, honor. She picked us because she knows we're a good team."

Hal snorted. "That and we're not on the take, "he said sarcastically. "Practically all of the guys walking the beat work for the Boogie Man, the vamps, or the witches, depending on who's offering the most cash."

Sally glared at him. How could he think so poorly of them? How could he even think that their only good quality was that they were on the level? It angered her, and for good reason. "So what, you don't think we make a good team?" she asked, irritation creeping into her voice. "You think that the past five years have meant nothing?" Hal slumped against the wall, looking somewhat defeated.

"I never said that, Sally," he muttered wearily. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. This is the case that will either make us or break us, you know. That's a lot of pressure, I guess. Makes you see things more clearly."

Sally took a deep breath and took a good long look at her partner. He appeared to be much more harried than usual; his dark grey suit was rumpled, and his spiky white hair looked like it had become a nest for small animals. He had bags under his normally bright golden eyes, all three of them. She grimaced. He looked like he had been through the wringer. She was fairly certain that she didn't look much better.

"I know," she said finally, relenting. "But still, we have to be prepared if we don't want to get shot." She pulled a small bundle of papers out of the file folder. "I was thinking about going undercover. Deep undercover."

"As opposed to regular undercover?" Hal quipped, as he walked over to get a better look at the file. "Yeah," he said, nodding, "That might work. Aside from the fact that every dick that went that route has gotten bumped off, or sold to the blood pimps."

Sally pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. A headache had decided to form itself right behind her eyeballs. It was times like these that she sometimes regretted being paired with the most contrary cop in Halloween Town. "So you suggest we go in there with our guns blazing?" she asked. She shook her head, and sighed. "Statistically, the cops who have gotten the farthest have gone under cover. We just have to be…better, I guess."

Hal stared at her, scorn twisting his features. "Gee, I never thought of that!" he said, slapping the palm of his hand to his forehead. "Well, there we go; we just have to be better, and all of our problems are solved!" His voice got louder as he stalked past her, slamming the filing cabinets closed as he went. "Might as well ask the chief for our medals now, right? That is, if we don't die first!" Ire colored his face a dark red, and he was breathing heavily. It was almost painful to look at him. "You see, that's the difference between you and me, Sal," he snarled angrily. "I have priorities. I have a daughter to think about. I give a damn…I have to give a damn whether or not I return home in one piece, whether or not I come back alive. I..I..at least I have a life!" he yelled furiously.

Tears pricked behind her eyes, but Sally looked at him, and said nothing. She would not let him see how much he had hurt her. There were a million of insults she could've screamed at him, thousands of ways she knew how to injure him, but it wasn't worth it. At least her wife hadn't left her with a kid that probably wasn't hers, she thought bitterly. At least she didn't have a chronic addiction to magic. So what if she didn't have a life? At least it was better than Hal's. But even as she thought it, she knew she didn't mean it. Hal was her friend, her partner. He had been there for her when he fiancée died, and she would be there for him now.

But God, she wanted to punch his stupid face off.

Sally gripped the case file tightly and shoved it into her bag, turning her face away from him. "I'm going to lunch now," she said softly, coolly. Her words were laced with frozen steel, and she hoped each of them stabbed Hal deeply. "Perhaps you will be ready to listen to what I have to say by the time I get back." She threw her coat over her shoulders, and walked to the door. The blood drained out of Hal's face, turning it an ashy grey.

"Sally, I didn't mean it," he said weakly. She looked at him pityingly. Now that all of his rage had dissipated, he looked pathetic, like a deflated balloon. She couldn't help but feel bad for him. She also couldn't help to imagine shooting him in the face,

"Oh, but you did," she said as she trudged out of the room. She shut the door behind her quietly, ignoring the impulse to slam it. When she reached the stairwell, which was fairly empty, she let out a scream of frustration. How are we going to take down the Boogie Man, she thought pessimistically, if we can't even agree with ourselves?