Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, SANDY! Yep, Jack is going to meet him in this chapter. But before we get to that, I just want to say in forewarning that I do a bit of bashing of religion in general in this chapter, but most specifically I poke holes in Christianity. This is by no means intended to be offensive (I am, after all, technically a Christian myself even if I don't go to church anymore). I just look at religion from Jack's present perspective, in his position as an immortal Spirit of Winter. After all, to him, a lot of what he once believed would definitely no longer make sense.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 10: Seeking Sanderson

"So you'll be back in a few days?"

Emily stood on the porch in the pale dawn light, as Jack paused and glanced back at her. He'd waited until she'd woken just before dawn, before knocking on the door to talk to her. And now she'd come outside, and he'd explained he was going to go look for someone.

He smiled at her, knowing that she worried about him even though she knew he could take care of himself. But then, she was his little sister, and she would always care.

"Mother Nature suggested I go introduce myself to the Sandman, but I'm not sure how long it will take me to track him down. It shouldn't be too hard, he leaves trails of dreamsand right across the sky when he's sending out dreams, but I don't want to have to rush my first talk with him either. If he's ok with it, I'll probably follow him around and watch him for a couple of days. I'll see you when I get back."

He waved to her once, and then soared upwards leaving a faint scatter of snowflakes in his wake. He then turned eastwards and headed across the Atlantic, streaking through the thin air far far above the clouds, where the boost he got from the winds at lower altitudes let him fly impossibly fast at this height where no normal winds could reach. It was also incredibly cold up so high, which was why he was the only Spirit of the Seasons to be able to take advantage of it.

Even at their best speeds, Ariko and the other two would have taken over an hour to cover the distance that Jack traversed in just fifteen minutes. Even with their power protecting them from the cold, the utter chill that high up was too much for them to handle. But for Jack, that cold increased his speed as if he were sliding on ice that had just been slicked with water. As for how he knew all this? Well it was simple to say that, when he'd stumbled across the Summer Sanctuary, Achieng had chased him. He'd flown straight upwards, aiming for the upper airways where he knew he was his fastest, and the moment he passed the highest altitude she could tolerate, the look of shock on her face had been priceless. She'd just stopped in her tracks as if at some invisible wall, while he'd kept going upwards. Then, in fury as he'd jokingly teased her about being afraid of heights, the dark-skinned spirit had charged pass that 'wall' with the obvious intent to slap him.

She got halfway between where she'd been and the altitude he'd stopped at, when ice started forming on her array of dark braids, and the instant that happened she reversed direction and plummeted downwards until she was low enough that it melted again. She'd then scowled, complained that he wasn't worth knocking some sense into since he was obviously too young and stupid at this point to learn from it, and stormed off back to her sanctuary. But Jack knew the real reason she'd left in such fury, it was because the incident had shown she was weaker than him in that one small but significant way. He could go where the other Spirits of the Seasons could not. The terrible cold at the edge of the world, held no fear for him.

Jack chuckled to himself at that thought, as his fifteen-minute flight ended with him floating above London. He'd tracked her down again the following year, out of courtesy, to apologise for trespassing in the Summer Sanctuary. What he got was a small frown, a firm nod of acceptance for the apology, and a faint look of grudging respect. In return he'd tactfully decided not to tease her about it, as fun as might have been.

He sighed to himself as he landed on the top of St. Paul's Cathedral, the afternoon sun streaming down, and idly took note of the new statues on the roof. The building had been declared 'complete' on the twenty-fifth of December, seventeen-eleven, eleven days after he'd died and been reborn. But it seemed that it was only now, in the year seventeen-twenty, that they'd truly finished adding things to it. It all seemed a bit silly to him to be honest, to spend so much time and money on a giant church. He'd been raised as a stalwart follower of Christianity, with the prayers and everything else, but the moment he'd died all that had ceased to matter. Because if there really was a god, out there somewhere watching over humanity from afar, they didn't seem to be doing a very good job of guiding and looking after the world or at least so it looked to him.

No, it seemed that the Man in the Moon, Mother Nature, and the various immortals were doing all the real work. They toiled away, day after day, year after year, century after century... and 'God' got most of the credit.

Jack snorted to himself, and took to the air again, landing on the nearby buildings before jumping roof-to-roof amid the city's sea of smoking chimney-stacks. He didn't really like London for that reason, all the smoke that fouled the air. The warmth from all those hearth-fires also interfered with his work, forcing him to put more effort into making it snow over the city. It made snowstorms during the day a bit of a chore, but once night fell even the warmth from all those fires couldn't stop the lack of sunlight from sucking the heat from the air. Especially if he cleared the clouds during the day so the heat could escape, and then drag fresh clouds, laden with snow, into place once it got dark.

He began to do that now, out of boredom. Breaking up and thinning out the clouds overhead and chuckling as the temperature then began to plunge. Frost began to form on the tallest spires and roofs as the hours until dusk passed by, and then he swept up into the skies to pull new clouds into place. But even as he revelled in crafting the weather of his season, he did spare a thought for the many homeless and poor people he knew were in the city below.

Winter was a time of terrible hardship for them, and many would die from the cold, but he had reached the point now where he accepted that. He could not change their lot in life, and he could not spare them the cold. He lacked the power or ability to do the first, and could not do the latter without disobeying his duties as the Spirit of Winter. All he could do was offer a feeble and seemingly pointless prayer, to the distant god those poor souls believed in.

The sun soon reached the horizon and passed below, casting the city into shadows at the same time Jack's snowfall started, and numerous clock-towers across London informed all who could hear them that it was four o'clock.

Jack watched the snow fall, sat on a random roof with his feet hanging over the edge. He swung his legs too and fro in boredom, until eventually the bells chimed that it was eight o'clock.

He stopped the snowfall, clearing the air so that he could see across the city. London was big, with lots of people, and that meant lots of children. And in a dank, smelly, and crowded city like this, a lot of those children would need good dreams from the Sandman.

Jack began flitting across the roofs of London, leaving patterns of frost whenever he landed for a brief moment. It was only now he began to feel a flutter of nerves, as he wondered what reaction he would get. Of every immortal he'd met thus far, other than Mother Nature, he'd been greeted with either indifference, disdain, or outright hostility. Even with her assurances, that the Sandman would be welcoming, Jack still doubted. But he could not cling to those doubts, because at the moment of the first chime of nine o'clock, long streams of sand streaked and wove across the London skyline. Where they split off into hundreds, thousands of smaller streams, which each in turn sought out a child.

Jack took to the air, asking the winds to lead him to the source of the dreamsand before the brief few minutes they would be there were up. It was chance luck that he was already close, for not that far away a little cloud of dreamsand floated above the River Thames.

Jack shot upwards to just below the clouds, well above the height the cloud was at, and from there he peered down at the little rotund golden man that sat atop it. He then carefully began to drift silently down, coming closer and closer, until he was near enough to make out the fact that the Sandman's hair stuck up in little tufts. He looked mystical and yet friendly, with all his clothing glittering as if made from the very sand he commanded... which was actually more than likely. But his face was definitely human, and below his cheerful golden eyes the little man was smiling.

The Sandman obviously enjoyed his work.

Jack waited until the flow of dreamsand stopped, which was a couple more minutes, but from his high initial vantage point he'd seen the tremendous distances the streams had reached out. The Sandman hadn't just given dreams to London, but probably all of England and a large chunk of France, Germany, and Holland as well. Maybe more... The sheer range of his influence was staggering, even to a Spirit of Winter who could spread his season over the entirety of the north of the world in one pass.

The Sandman seemed to sigh to himself once he was done, and settled deeper into his cloud as if to take a few minutes to think or rest or something before he head off to his next stop, probably Spain if Jack guessed right. After Spain was probably Africa, and then there would be about four hours before night-time reached North and South America. Jack had to admit now to being impressed, because if the Sandman followed night around the world all the time, then the only times he'd have to himself to rest would be when the line of dusk was crossing the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and even then those gaps would be small. Mother Nature had not been jesting when she'd described the Guardian as being 'busy'.

Jack couldn't bring himself to wait any longer, and drifted down to the cloud's height to stop in front of the little golden man. He then smiled awkwardly.

"Um, hello."

The Sandman blinked at him and tilted his head, before a question mark of sand appeared above it. Jack puzzled over that for a moment, until the Sandman pointed at him.

He flushed a bit, embarrassed.

"Oh! Um, sorry. I'm Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter, and you're The Sandman, right? Mother Nature told me about you."

The Sandman nodded eagerly, smiling cheerfully, and then pointed at Jack again before shaking his head and holding a hand to his ear as if listening. Again Jack stared in confusion, until it dawned on him that The Sandman talked entirely using drawings in dreamsand, and miming.

"You're saying you've never heard of me?" Sandman nodded, and Jack shrugged. "I'm not surprised. This will be my ninth full winter since I uh... died and came back, and well I uh... just thought I'd say hello."

The Sandman scooted his cloud forward and offered his hand, which Jack reached out and shook tentatively before he was yanked to sit on the cloud beside the Guardian of Dreams. The Sandman then pointed to himself, and above his head began to form letters out of sand.

Jack turned his head on its side, frowning at the letters and trying to remember what each one meant. He'd never learnt to read, at least not all that well. The only books in the village were a couple of zealously treasured bibles, that the children and youths of the village might be allowed to see, but never to touch.

"Ssss... ah... nnn...duh... yuh... Sandyuh?" He blinked. "Ah! Sandy?" The Sandman smiled widely and nodded. "You like to be called Sandy?"

Sandy's smile widened, and he nodded once more as he took hold of Jack's hand again to repeat his greeting. Jack returned that smile with one just as wide, and any doubts he'd had about being welcomed or not were now completely forgotten.

"I'm happy to meet you too, Sandy. Every other immortal I've met until now has been a complete grump, other than Mother Nature, and I can't say much about what the Man in the Moon is like, since he's only ever spoken to me once on the night I became this. I get the idea that Mother Nature cares about me, in her closed-off and serious way, but she doesn't make much for conversation when she does show up. Her visits are almost always about work."

Sandy chuckled silently, pointed to Jack, then tapped the side of his head and put on a thoughtful expression. He then waited for Jack to interpret it, which took a few moments.

"You want to know what I think about this? My new life and powers?" Sandy nodded, and Jack sighed. "Strange at first, but I'm think I'm just about used to it by now. It has been nine years... But it's lonely, even with the handful of kids I have that believe in me and can see me. I can only go to them during the months that it's winter at the village, and I've already watched a few of them grow up and stop believing." He glanced at the little golden man. "Did you feel like this? When you became The Sandman?"

Sandy's smile faded, his expression became distant, and then he sighed and started to shape an image. He drew a crescent moon, with a ray of moonlight shining down upon an image of himself. He then drew a flower, a tree, a tree without leaves, and a snowflake all connected with a circle. They turned round and round and round, faster and faster until they were a blur, while beside them remained the lone figure of himself. And then the turning of the seasons paused, and a new figure appeared beside him. A woman, covered with feathers, and who had segmented wings. Beside her, Sandy drew a tooth, before setting the turn of seasons back in motion and creating smaller images of lots and lots of new figures of all shapes and sizes while it turned.

Jack stared, at once feeling both pity and sympathy when the meaning of all that seeped into his heart.

"The Man in the Moon made you, and you were the first?" Sandy nodded. "And then you were alone for a very very long time, before he made the Tooth Fairy? And then more and more immortals were made in the years since her." Another nod, and Jack let his shoulders slump. "And I thought I had it bad."

Sandy reached out and patted him on the shoulder, before smiling and shrugging, and Jack got the meaning. All that was in the past, and it didn't matter now.

Jack reached with his own hand to pat Sandy's, his smile soft, and then he glanced around.

"I guess I'd best be going, and let you get back to your work. Do you mind if I watch you for a while?"

Sandy frowned a little, shook his head, and the grip of his small hand on Jack's shoulder became as solid as an anchor to stop the youth from leaving.. Sandy then made an image of the world out of dreamsand, an image of himself on his cloud of sand, and then send trails of sand from there to places all over the picture of the world.

Jack gaped.

"You can send your dreams to any child from anywhere without moving? But then, why do you fly around the world following the edge of night?"

Sandy pointed out across the city, which was now a sea of lamplight at windows, below rooftops that were dusted with glittering snow. He then smiled, and drew pictures of mountains, and forests, and lakes.

Jack started to smile again.

"You like to see the world, to fly around looking at it, instead of staying cooped up in one place. Can the other Guardians do that as well? Do their work from one place without having to go anywhere?"

Sandy went utterly still, and frowned as several rapid symbols flashed above his head, and Jack flinched.

"Whoa, slow down! Mother Nature told me about the four of you, and that you all protect the world's children." He paused. "But she never said what you protected them from."

Sandman calmed down, his expression solemn, and he drew an image of a wraith-like shadowy being, one that looked like a tortured soul. He then turned his dreamsand a dark grey, dimming its light, giving the impression that the thing he was showing would be black. He then lets his sand glow again, and dismissed the image before throwing a touch of golden dust into Jack's eyes. Not enough to put him to sleep, but enough to allow him to communicate a name.

It was one that burned into Jack's mind, as he felt the dread the name invoked.

"Fearling?"

Sandy nodded, then pointed to himself and conjured a whip made of sand, which he brandished.

"You chase them away when you see them?"

Sandy floated up off his cloud, waiting until Jack was also flying before he dismissed it, and then he floated downwards as if looking for something. He drifted from home to home, alley to alley, until eventually he came across a small boy huddled and shivering behind a pile of crates in a back-street.

Sandy threw a touch of dreamsand at the boy, but it refused to settle over him. Instead it circled around the boy, like a forlorn puppy in search of warmth.

The child whimpered in fear, oblivious to everything but the cold and the dark, and Jack dropped to the ground and knelt beside him.

"This is what Fearlings do? They sow nightmares and misery among children?" He turned to Sandy, bleak. "But your dreams ward them away, right?"

Sandy nodded, and drew an image of two children sleeping. In the first, dreamsand reached the child and the little one slept soundly. In the second, a Fearling touched the child before the dreamsand could arrive, leaving the youth trembling in terror in their sleep, while the dreamsand tried but couldn't help them.

"You can't give dreams to children who are already in the grip of a nightmare? You just have to try and reach the children, who are sad and unhappy enough that the Fearlings are drawn to them, first."

Sandy sighed, looking depressed, and raised his hands in helplessness. He then drew a set of scales, placing himself and his dreamsand on one side, and the image of several Fearlings on the other.

Jack grimaced.

"All part of the balance, eh? All you can do is make sure this boy and others like him, get a good dream tomorrow night. But while you do that, the Fearlings will get to another child instead of him." Jack looked at the boy, frowning even as Sandy waved for him to follow him back up into the sky. "I can't leave him like this, Sandy. He's already cold and alone. It isn't fair to leave him suffering from this nightmare as well."

Sandy remained bleak, and again demonstrated the fact his dreamsand couldn't touch the boy right now, but Jack remained stubborn.

"I know you can't help him, but maybe..."

Jack took a deep breath and raised his empty hand, conjuring a large, crystalline snowflake within his grasp while Sandy watched in puzzlement. He then flicked the snowflake towards the boy, so that it landed on his face and dissolved into blue glimmers there.

The child twitched, a small frown creasing his brow as the glitter of magic disappeared, and then he let out a sigh and relaxed. He was no longer shaking in fear, and there was the faintest smile of happiness on his face.

It was Sandy's turn to gape, before he recovered from his surprise enough to try sending dreamsand at the boy again. This time it wasn't repelled and a dream, about being held close and warm by two loving parents, settled upon the boy.

The child's smile widened slightly, and Sandy drifted down to lay a hand on Spirit of Winter's shoulder.

Jack glanced at him, and shrugged in response to the wide-eyed and questioning expression of his fellow immortal.

"I have the ability to gift a sense of fun and joy to people for a short time, but I've only really used it for starting snowball fights up until now. It's nothing to do with me being the Spirit of Winter, it's just something I have that's from me." He put his hand to his chest. "The day I died, my sister and I were skating on a frozen pond, and the ice started to crack under her. She was so scared, but I turned it into a game. I got her to laugh, and she forgot her fear for long enough to step closer to me so I could save her... I threw her clear of the cracked ice, but couldn't save myself as well." He sighed, and his gaze returned to the sleeping boy. "I just though that, if laughter could banish her fear, then maybe that same joy could drive away the shadow from the Fearling's touch."

Sandy was still staring at him, with something that Jack could only describe as being a mixture of hope, awe, and burgeoning excitement. But before the Guardian of Dreams could ask anything else, the winds came looking for Jack and whispered to him urgently.

He turned to look up at the sky, listening, and then he grimaced and glanced at Sandy.

"Sorry, I have to go. My winter task is avalanche duty, and the winds have just found an avalanche that they say I really need to go deal with... right now." He jumped up into the air, and waved. "I'll see you around sometime, Sandy. It's been great meeting you, and thanks for telling me about those Fearlings. I'll make sure to keep an eye out for them for you."

He disappeared in a gust of wind, leaving Sandy floating there alone in the alley beside the sleeping boy.

The Guardian of Dreams watched Jack go, before sending himself up into the sky upon a cloud of dreamsand. And when he was above the clouds, up within reach of the moonlight, he looked to the moon and asked his silent question. Did he know about Jack Frost, and the remarkable ability the young immortal possessed?

But the Man in the Moon didn't answer. He remained silent, as he always did when it was not yet time to answer.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: lol, this ended up being WAY longer than I planned, partly because I got wrapped up in the history of St. Paul's Cathedral, and the resulting delve into the insight of how an immortal like Jack might view religion given his rather unusual perspective on belief.

But yep, I've also started to delve into the matter of Jack's abilities, and how they relate to the conflict between light and childhood innocent, and the darkness and nightmares of Pitch. (I used an illustration from one of the books, for the description of what the Fearlings look like) Sandy has also realised that Jack is something unusual, special even, but the Man in the Moon isn't going to be answering anything about that any time soon :)