Disclaimer: Oh boy... the dreaded "d" word... I don't own Nightmare Before Christmas, the holidays, the concepts of love, friendship, hitting people or sarcasm.

Away from the vast timberland, the smoke from an assembly of chimneys rose ever so steadily into the winter December air. A town existed on the other side of a hill, located in a valley rich with yellow blossoms in spring. The wind was light, but strong enough to tear a paper off the pole it was nailed to clumsily. It was a lost sign, but it was nearly impossible to read, the blue ink smeared by water and dirt. Even the picture was indecipherable. But the townspeople, or at least most of them, knew what it said. The local baker's daughter, Adeline, had been missing for the preceding week. The baker was concerned, but there was nothing that anybody could do to find the daughter, which became apparent by the third day. She just vanished, leaving no trace behind to track her with. The most that could be done was small favors to the baker.

Nevertheless, not a soul in the town gave the slightest thought to check the woods. People barely even acknowledged that the forest existed, the forest that had been haunted with superstitions for as long as anyone could remember. Many people now ridiculed the tall tales, but even so, bothered none to ever test the stories. It was just a forest, and was none of their concern.

Adeline Skull herself had managed to go astray in the very forest nobody gave a damn to. Drat the whether of Colorado, indeed. A flurry of snow whipped around Adeline's ankles as she trudged over to a large pine, kneeling underneath its umbrella of needles, shivering in the cold. She breathed out into her cupped hands, desperate to warm herself up. She had never gone into the woods, no surprise, and forlornly wished for her warm home and the orange, glowing fireplace in it. What rotten luck she had: getting rained on, finding some weird dead guy, and now getting lost in the woods with no company. She was on a roll, but not a good one. Nobody would think to look for her in the timberland, and the most she could do was hope a traveler, or even the boy, found her. Adeline curled up to the trunk, in attempt to get warm and get some sleep.

A good screaming distance or two away, the three teenagers walked side by side, the boys with their hands shoved in their pockets. Shock, on the other hand, was digging through her witch hat in effort to find gloves, a scarf, anything relatively warm. She paused mid-walk, seating herself on the cold snow to better bore into the seemingly endless pit of random things. Lock and Barrel froze and watched her a few steps ahead. It was always interesting to see what she could pull out of there. Shock tossed countless things over her shoulders: her baseball bat, her broomstick, one of her pet scorpions – Lock and Barrel shuddered. Who knows why she didn't get a normal black cat... – a bottle of Mace, a Swiss Army knife, a brightly colored ribbon that she had snatched off of a pole in Christmas Town, a femur bone, a blunt axe, and nearly anything else you can think of. The boys shot a look at each other that clearly stated their thoughts: Oh boy...

They stood watching for a while, and dusk soon fell over them. Lock soon grew impatient, strolling over to Shock and whacking the back of her head with the palm of his hand. Barrel winced at the echoing smack sound. Five... four... three... two... one. Barrel counted down in his head. He was used to Lock and Shock's brawls, and now simply enjoyed sitting back and watching, rather than join in as he had as a child. Sure enough, Shock whirled around and smacked Lock, before pouncing at him, wrapping her now gloved hands around his neck. Almost instantly, they launched into a violent brawl. They rolled on the ground, kicking up snow in wild attempts to kill one another. Barrel sighed. And they say I'm childish. He thought. Some things never change...

"Crazy bitch!" Lock snapped, pulling a handful of her curly hair.

"Fuck you, you aggravating jackass!" Shock hissed back, yanking his devil's tail.

Barrel looked up at the sky, which was darkening quickly, "Hey guys," Seeing no response, the green-haired boy stood up and pushed his two friends away from each other. "Guys, can you get along for once?"

"No!" The other two snapped. They glared daggers at each other, arms crossed, mirroring the other.

"Look," Barrel said, sensing another fight about to issue. "It's getting dark, so shouldn't we set up camp?" His cohorts grumbled, unenthusiastically agreeing.

A few minutes later, Barrel returned to the clearing the trio had found (which clearly wasn't hard in this forest), arms full with wood to build a fire with. He was surprised to find Lock and Shock actually working, and in complete silence. They were just ignoring each other, and it brought a strangely peaceful atmosphere to the area. Shock was putting up a tarp, aided slightly with her magic, over the area where they would be sleeping, which she had cleared of snow with her magic beforehand. Lock was laying out sleeping bags for them underneath the tarp. Barrel sighed to himself. Finally, some peace. He thought. He walked under the tarp wearily, and started setting up a fire pit, watching the other two. It strangely fascinated him. He could not remember a time when they were this tranquil around each other. It was nice. No yelling, no curses, no glares, and no fistfights, just... peace and quiet.

Shock turned around to look over the make shift campsite once she was certain that the tarp wouldn't collapse on them while they were sleeping. Her eyes stopped for an unusually long span of time on the sleeping bags. Barrel sighed; he was almost positive he knew what she was thinking. She always wanted things done to her liking. I wonder if it's a girl thing... Barrel thought to himself.

"Barrel!" The young necromancer snapped.

The golden-eyed boy looked up, meeting Shock's intense gaze. "Yeah?" He asked anxiously.

"Toss something to me," She replied simply, "Anything."

"Uh, okay..." He agreed cautiously. Barrel pulled a stray lock of vibrant hair behind his ear, and plunged his hand into the bush behind him, and randomly pulled out a bluish-green toad. He raised his eyebrow in curiosity for a moment, but upon sensing Shock looking impatiently at him, he quickly tossed it to her, a perfect throw. She placed the toad in her palm, its large eyes staring up innocently at her, and raised her other hand over the toad's back. Her free hand began to gently glow, and the glow soon sunk into the skin of the amphibian, and the creature instantly went rigid. Barrel watched, wide-eyed, as Shock spread her hand out over the animal. In sync with the motion of her hand, the toad stretched in width, the sound of ripping flesh filling the air. Lock, too, looked up to watch. The boys watched, spellbound yet with a feeling of horror in the back of their minds, as the toad was separated into three pieces by the curse. A small vein of blood trickled down through the gaps in between the witch's fingers and onto the forest floor. The decapitated creature began to bubble like acid nauseatingly, turning ivory and swelling. Soon, the horror was over, and in her hands, instead of an innocent toad, Shock held three fluffy, soft pillows. She ignored the boys' expressions – Barrel with his eyes wide with disgust and utmost alarm, Lock, on the other hand, looked strangely fascinated – and tossed a pillow to each of them. Lock examined it cautiously for a moment, before placing it at the head of his sleeping bag. Barrel, though, yelped and dropped the pillow on the rocks in front of him.

Warily, Barrel reached over and jabbed it. If he hadn't witnessed its creation, it would be just a pillow. It was fluffy, soft; an innocent white, and even had a scent of peppermint to it. He reached over and picked the pillow up. He stared at it, shifted his gaze to Shock, then back to the pillow. He finally gave up in the war raging through his head, and tossed it over to his sleeping bag. He turned to face the set-up fire pit, and sat down cross-legged. He could feel Lock watching his attempts to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together, hoping to get a spark, behind his back. The hairs on the back of Barrel's neck stood up. It was a pet peeve of his to be watched by his friends. For whatever reason, it bothered him.

SMACK! Barrel dropped the sticks in his hands and rubbed the back of his head. He turned to glare at Lock.

"Dude, what the hell?" He snapped. The devil was leaning back against one of the poles holding the tarp up, scowling at him. Lock motioned to the ground in front of the other boy. Barrel looked down to see a tinderbox in front of him. "Oh... sorry," He murmured, picking up the tinderbox, turning back, and managed to get a fire lit in a matter of minutes. Good thing, too: night had blanketed them with no hesitation. The trio slinked into their sleeping bags, and feel into a dreamless slumber to the sound of the crackling fire.

"Damn it, Barrel, stop scratching it! It'll just make it worse!" Shock snapped, slapping him.

"But it itches!" The green-haired boy complained.

Lock rubbed his eyes sleepily, awakened by his friends' voices. Do they have any idea of the word 'quiet'? He wondered, opening his eyes and sitting up.

Barrel was shirtless, and Shock was applying rubbing alcohol to his back, where a rash covered as well as his left arm.

Pushing the prick of envy out of his mind, Lock propped himself up on his elbow, and asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, good morning, Lock," Shock greeted with a nod of her head, "I don't know, but Barrel must've reached his hand into a bush of poison oak, and it spread to his back."

"How was I supposed to know it was poison oak? You know I'm no good at plants!" Barrel retorted, scratching his arm. Shock slapped his hand. When she turned her head back to Lock, Barrel resumed his scratching.

"So now I have to put rubbing alcohol on it," She concluded simply.

"What will that do?" Lock asked, stretching.

"Idiot, it will clean the skin of urushiol."

"And that is...?"

"You two are so dense! It's the oils of the plant that trigger the reaction."

"Oh." Lock watched for a moment, in which the prick of envy returned, and he scooted over to sit next to her. Shock raised an eyebrow, but otherwise ignored him. Absent mindedly, he scratched his shoulder, and it was then that he noticed an odd, irritating feel to his shoulders, the sides of his face, and upper back. The more he thought about it, the more it itched. Shock noticed after a few seconds, and turned to look at him.

"Lock, look at me," The witch instructed. Too tired to disagree, Lock obeyed. Shock examined his cheeks, before groaning. She grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol. "Does it itch anywhere else?"

"Yeah, my shoulders and back," He replied. Shock sighed.

"Barrel, I'm done with you," The necromancer told him, "There's a river over there, go wash the rash with that. Okay?" The boy ran his hand through his lime green hair and grinned sheepishly, nodding, and wandered off to the stream. Shock tugged Lock's shirt off and grabbed Barrel's shirt, tossing both articles of clothing at Barrel. "Wash those while you're at it." Barrel rolled his eyes, catching the shirts.

"Yes, mom," Barrel teased, running off, laughing, before she could grab something else to throw at him. Shock rolled her eyes, muttering something about how boys were so immature, before spreading the antiseptic on her hands, and began smearing it over Lock's cheeks, which had begun to show signs of a rash.

Lock exhaled in boredom, and tried to ignore the foul smell of the ointment – he wasn't sure whether it was from being in a world other than where it originated for so long, or just the natural stench. He gazed into his friend's lavender eyes – or were they gray? He wasn't sure anymore, and it'd be silly to ask her – for a moment, but despite his confusion of the striking orbs of hers -- that even in the face of their beauty, could have a look harder than looking into the face of evil itself – he grew tired of examining her eyes, since she was ignoring his gaze. In spite of his better judgment, he found his eyes trailing down her collarbone to her chest. Mentally kicking himself, Lock looked away, blushing, before she could notice. Shock gave him a slap on the cheek, and he looked back up to her face, fearing that his pervert moment hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Stop moving your head!" Shock growled, and ordered him to turn around so she could spread the ointment over his shoulders and back. He nodded stiffly, doing his best to mask the wave of relief that he felt, and obeyed. Too close, pervert, He told himself, she already thinks you're a pervert, and staring at her chest isn't gonna help! He shook his head, and focused on a leaf on the dirt, wincing at the smack she sent at the back of his head.

He had defiantly dug himself a ditch.

A/N: I had a wine glass fall on my head. I'm okay now, there's just a tender spot on my head now. But, Happy New Years since I missed my Christmas deadline! XD I'm sorry, toad. =(You didn't deserve that, truly.

You guys can blame me if I give you nightmares.

~Inferno Shock