Note: Cas here. Wrote this up as fast as I could because some asshole made Bukkun cry and I get to pick the pieces up, the little fuckers. So, to cheer her up, I wrote… the first part that may or may not give her feels. Okay, not the best way to cheer a girl up, but at least I'm trying! (Someone help me, though, I don't know if this is going to work, if I make things worse please help me out, good Lord) So. Wrote bits of it, she wrote the other parts (I forced her to, she needed a break and so she decided to write Angus and Jack being fluffy. I let her. Happy now, everyone?), I'm posting since she's still working and she's thoroughly embarrassed at my reason for starting things off. Part one of a (possible) three-part finale because Bukkun and I like doing things in parts.

And yes, the finale is nearing, everyone. Thank you so much for riding along with us.

Warnings: Everything failing, Pitch winning, "feels" or whatever Bukkun liked calling them, past digging and loads of headcanons, Angus getting whumped, the Guardians losing (gasp here, please, if you'd like), and a whole lot of other things I can't be bothered to list here, not when Bukkun is complaining to me about everything over at Facebook.

Beautiful golden curtains framed large, ceiling-high windows framed with white gold that led to ornate gold balconies that overlooked a majestic kingdom, where streets were lined with joyous lights and the most gleeful sights of children happily running around, stalls open and happily bustling with business. High above them in the sky was the glorious sight of airships in all shapes and sizes—marvels, each one of them, living proof of the glory of the Golden Age.

Inside the elegant ballroom, all high ceilings with beautiful tapestry, a glimmering golden moonlit chandelier hanging high above the heads of the guests, dresses swished about as couples danced together in a joyous waltz all around the marble floor depicting a mural of the establishment of the Golden Age—brought about by one of the wisest men the universe ever knew—Tzar Lunanoff, a majestic man standing by his wife, the Tzarina, as they looked over the festivities with shining pride.

The darkness that clouded the universe had just been vanquished—Dream Pirates, Nightmares and Fearlings alike have been rid of, allowing the glorious Golden Age to flourish amongst the stars.

"Where is our hero?" the Tzar asked his lovely wife, who only chuckled and patted her husband's hand. The man frowned slightly, and shook his head. "I mean it; where is General Kozmotis Pitchiner? He is the guest of honour, and he is nowhere to be seen?"

"Oh, my dear, you know he is a humble man." His wife replied, reassuringly patting her husband's arm. "He knows his efforts are all appreciated, but he personally asked me to allow him to be excused from this event; he has something important to attend to."

"Is anything more important than a hero's promotion ceremony?"

She chuckled, and shook her head fondly. "My love, he asked for time to be with his daughter. The war we had waged against the darkness of the universe took a very long time. Imagine what it must be like for a father to be so far away from his daughter, and for so long."

The Tzar gazed at the airships outside their palace, and a smile crossed his face, thinking about their very own child, and he sighed, shaking his head fondly.

"Assure me he will be here for the ceremony, at least."

"He swore it," his wife nodded, and he smiled at her.

"Then let us leave him be." He declared, before turning his attention to the festivities before them.

The tall, dark-haired man approached the little girl's bedroom door, slightly unsure of himself, hesitant in spite of all his heroic acts he had done in the war he had left her for.

No fight against any Fearling, or Nightmare will ever be any more nerve-wracking than meeting one's child again after such a long time, and he wonders if his daughter hated him. He had left her alone for so long, after all.

Her governess, past her tears and cries of joy at her employer's return, had told him she had tucked his little girl in to bed not too long ago and that she was asleep, but he could not wait even until the crack of dawn to see her. He had been away from her for far too long, and just the thought of not seeing her for any minute longer sent his heart aching. Yet, he still feared. He feared his daughter's reaction, his daughter's possible emotions about his absence in her life.

The to-be general grasped the knob and soundlessly opened the door to see his little girl, her wavy, curling black tresses tumbling over her shoulders, clamber up a chair to sit on the windowsill and look up at the sky, where he could see her hands clasp together in a reverent prayer.

A small smile crossed his face as he entered, closing the door behind him without a sound so as not to startle his little girl.

"Please, please, please." He heard her say to the stars high above her. "Please bring my Daddy back. I miss him so, so much."

"I missed you too, my dear girl." He replied, and he saw her little frame jolt in surprise. She quickly turned around, her hair flying in her face, but she didn't care—the light in her black eyes was enough to show her overflowing joy as tears spilled from them. The little girl leapt from her perch at the windowsill and threw herself into her father's embrace, sobbing happily as she wrapped her small arms around him, burying her face into his regal officer uniform.

"D-Daddy," she hiccupped into his chest, and the man felt tears prick at his eyes as well, as he hugged her close to himself, listening to her heartbeat against his own, assuring himself that this was all real, and that he was with her again, not like before, in all those feverish nights he spent in the military encampment, where he had only the company of his trusted steed and faded dreams—or memories—of his lovely daughter. "Daddy, you're back, you're really, really back,"

"Yes, I am, my dear." He murmured into her hair, stroking her back reassuringly as he let her cry on his shoulder, simply holding her close and relishing in the beautiful happiness that blossomed in his chest as he felt her warmth against his. "I'm… I'm home."

"I missed you," she whimpered, after a long while, when her sobs had subsided and her father tucked her into bed, soothingly stroking her hair to calm her down. "You were gone for so, so long, and I just… I…"

"Shh, it's alright, dear one," the man murmured, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm back now. I'm home. The Fearlings are gone. There's nothing to worry about anymore."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She smiled at him warmly, and held onto his hand until she fell asleep.

When her breath evened out, he pried his hand away from hers and silently left her room to receive his promotion.

The following morning, his name was on every single civilian's lips.

"Long live General Pitchiner!"

Nothing ever stays as it is; peace never stays for too long.

A broken, tired man, General Kozmotis Pichiner stands dutifully in front of the closed doors, his heart weary and his soul so worn out he was sure it would give away any time soon.

His precious daughter was gone.

His life, committed to solitude in front of the last barrier between all that is good and all that is evil.

Standing by himself in the solitary guard's post in front of the prison's only door, he steeled himself against the barrage of whispers and calls from behind the closed doors. He knew he should not relent. He knew what was needed to be done.

Sighing, he took out the locket he had kept in his pocket all this time. He opened it and looked down at the picture of his daughter's face, and a wave of nostalgic sadness washed over him.

His duty had kept him away from her; and now, it was the very same thing that took her away from him.

He took solace in looking at his daughter, though, and a small amount of happiness blossomed inside him—he had raised her well, she was kind, and loving, and a beautiful person; Kozmotis could not think of a better person than his daughter. He knew he had succeeded in rearing her; if her mother had still been alive, she would have been so proud of him. He knew, despite the fact he was always away from her, he had been a good father to her. He was glad of at least having the knowledge that he had not failed as a father to his daughter.

Then came the treacherous whispers.

"Please, Daddy," they whispered into his ears, "Please, please, please open the door."

A spark of hope arose in his cold, lonely heart; it had been so long since he had heard her voice—but then it was quickly extinguished when he realised what it was—a Fearling trick.

They pressed on.

"Daddy, I'm trapped in here with these shadows, and I'm scared," the voice pleaded, a frightened little girl speaking out to him as he steeled himself outside the door. "Please open the door. Help me, Daddy, please."

The pleas grew desperate, as Kozmotis began to slip into a trance. Whispers, dark and seductive, danced around his head as his mind began to race, began to think—

His precious daughter was trapped in there, with all the evil of the universe held inside a prison.

She was alone—and so very scared. It was a sin to leave her where she is.

She's crying, shaking, curled up into a little ball.

Look at her tears, Kozmotis. Why deny her freedom?

She needs you. Are you not her father?

Would you ever fail her?

Panic seeped into his senses—he could no longer think, could no longer reason with anything as he turned and grasped the door's handles, a strong, valiant military general reduced to a worried-sick father desperate to save his beloved child.

Of course she was not there. The sight of twisting, turning shadows greeted his field of vision, and all he saw was black.

Pitch black, darker than any sort of darkness he had ever seen.

He didn't even get a chance to scream her name as they overtook him, laughing with all cruelty and heartlessness as they poured around him, and into him, corrupting and tainting and destroying anything and everything that remained of his humanity as his transformation began.

When the shadows stilled, he was no longer a man.

He was now Pitch Black, the Nightmare King.

Smirking, he stepped forward into the darkness to welcome it, leaving behind whatever was left of his humanity behind.

Unbeknownst to him, an old wizard stood by to the side, with a Pooka, holding onto the last remnant of General Kozmotis Pitchiner—his locket, bearing the image of his beloved daughter.

Evil laughter followed in his wake as he disappeared from the planet he was on.

Long live General Pitchiner…

Pitch Black arose from his slumber, a confused look on his face at the memory that he saw in his dream, and looked to the Nightmares standing around him, looking at him intently, as if expecting any orders from the man. He shook his head; such a strange dream could not have come from them. It was not horrifying enough.

It was, however, unsettling.

However, it was not a big issue—there were other pressing matters to address.

Mainly, his conquest of the world and all that is good on it, and the defeat of the Guardians.

Grinning, he approached the globe turning slowly in the middle of his lair, and peered at the unblinking golden lights on it.

"Let's see who'll believe in them this time around," he grinned as Onyx materialised by his side, bowing her head to him as she took form. "When I'm done with those Guardians, nothing else will remain but fear," he smirked, as he turned to her, getting ready to saddle her. Around him other Nightmares formed, all ready to act on his command.

"Cold and dark." He mused, smirking as he saddled her. "Somehow, it still sounds so good even after all this time." He kicked her side and she reared up, whinnying loudly, before taking off into a gallop towards the exit, as the herd of Nightmares followed suit after them. "Let's pay dear Jack Frost a visit, shall we…?"

Peace had reigned for a long time after Sandy's little fiasco, a few years passing by without so much as a peep from the Nightmare King, leaving the Guardians more worried than ever before. As seasons changed with the months passing by, the silence only served to feed to their worry. This was all too familiar to the Guardians—the last time they had encountered peace that lasted this long had left them with their guard down, and they ended with a surprise attack from the Nightmare King.

Now that they had learnt their lesson, they were more than twice shy after being bitten, but that only meant that they couldn't spend an entire day without at least once leaping at shadows they cast themselves out of nervousness.

Sandy's close brush with death had left them extremely wary of what Pitch was capable of, and this left North with an idea.

When he voiced it out, though, the involved parties weren't as welcoming to the idea as he had hoped.

"Me? With this poof?!"

"Him? With the Guardians?!"

Twin protests met his ears and the large man sighed, looking down at the two teenagers glaring at each other, weapons at the ready—Jack's hands were already crackling with ice and Angus's hands were ablaze with angry red flames.

"The both of you, stop that this instant!" North barked, and the two boys fell silent, slightly fearful eyes looking up at him. The Cossack spotted Bunnymund shaking his head at them from his spot by the fireplace. With Easter just finished, the Pooka had enough time to spare to come over to the North Pole to hear out what the man had planned for the Guardians."I don't see you trying to help, Bunny."

"Hey, I was the one who told you it was a bad idea, mate." The Pooka shrugged, and Jack, for once, nodded, agreeing with him.

"Yeah, North! We can't have Angus around; he's too dangerous to be with children! One touch and he sets things on fire!"

"Like you're not dangerous yourself, Frosty! Ever heard of Frostbite?"

"Hey, at least my snow days bring joy to kids! What do your forest fires do?"

"Don't insult my forest fires! Do you know how much forests need those to—"

"Enough!" North cut in again, and the two teenagers fell silent again. "We need Angus on this endeavour, Jack. We will need all the help we can get in defeating Pitch, and you should know how powerful Angus's light can be. We can use that to our advantage."

"But North, you said yourself you didn't want Angus to be a Guardian—"

"Being a Guardian is not for me to decide, Jack; that is for the Man in the Moon to decide." North sternly said, "And I know Angus does not wish to be a Guardian, but at least he could be an ally of ours; we need him."

"North, you know I'll be there whenever you call me." Angus sighed exasperatedly, "I don't understand why I have to work with him, of all people."

Jack glared at Angus. "I don't want to work with you either, twinkletoes."

"Snowman."

"Charcoal."

"Popsicle."

"Boys." North glared at them, and they fell silent once more.

"Angus, we need you to work with Jack, because we all know he is the one Pitch is after. He wants to make Jack his Nightmare Prince, remember," here, Jack pulled a face and both Bunnymund and Angus snickered, "And we cannot risk leaving Jack alone with Pitch targeting him."

"Don't see why it has to be him, though," Bunnymund spoke up, waving his paintbrush at them. "I'm sure we're more than capable of taking care of little Frostbite here."

Jack threw him a dirty look, and Bunnymund ignored it.

"Angus produces light, Bunny. He can ward off any shadows. He'll keep Pitch away from Jack as much as possible."

"Sometimes I hate being on fire," Angus mumbled, and Jack smirked at him.

North sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, fine. If the two of you are going to act this way, I'll have to resort to drastic measures."

Angus's eyes widened. "North, you don't mean—"

"Yes, and I'm sorry." The man replied, and Jack looked on, confused.

"I-I don't… understand…"

North stepped to the side and pushed a button. Jack's eyes widened and he looked at Angus. The two teenagers shared a look, and before they could do anything else, a hole opened up beneath them, sending them falling down a long, winding tunnel.

Left behind in the upper decks of the workshop, Bunnymund looked at North, his eyes wide with shock.

"North, what did you just…?"

"I sent them to the bottom of the ravine. They'll have time to sort themselves out there." North replied, "And they're going to have to work together to get out of there. It's too cold for Angus to fly and the wind can't reach Jack from down there. They have only each other."

Bunnymund blinked for a while, processing what North had said, but then it finally clicked and he grinned.

"You are a genius."

"I try."

Shouting, the two teenagers crashed into each other as they were unceremoniously dumped into the bottom of the ravine beneath the workshop, Jack falling on top of Angus as they landed.

"Ow, ow!" the both cried out in pain as they rolled away from each other, Jack hugging the wall of ice of the ravine to cool himself down, and Angus to the nearest rock face to keep away from the ice. When they had considerably calmed down, they glared at each other.

"Great, where are we?" Jack snapped at the fire spirit, who scowled at him.

"We're underneath the bloody workshop, you twat," he replied, pointing above him at the opening of the chute that sent them there, far above their heads. The planks of the base of the workshop could be barely visible behind it, being so far away from where they were. "Brilliant. We're going to have to get back the other way."

"What other way?" Jack asked, and Angus pointed at a cave entrance not too far from them.

"There's a cave there that leads outside, but it's really hard to get through it alone." Angus replied, "North had it made for who knows what reason, and he and I had a go at it a few years back."

"How come he never told me about this?" Jack asked, peering at the cave entrance, where in the distance, he could barely make out a dim light shining.

"It was a bloody long time ago," Angus scoffed, "Right now, I think he wants us to work together and get out of here."

"No way. Can't we just fly?"

"No wind, not hot enough," Angus replied. "We're grounded here."

Jack frowned, and crossed his arms. "But I don't want to work with you."

"Me either. Guess we'll be stuck here for a while, don't you think?" Angus smirked at him, before settling down on a patch of rock that wasn't covered by snow. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Frosty. We won't be out of here until someone comes get us from up there, or we go out together—which, by the way, has a fat chance of happening."

"Angus," Jack sighed exasperatedly, but the fire spirit ignored him and turned his attention to the rocks, melting them down to play with them. Rolling his eyes, Jack sat himself down on a patch of snow and began to make tiny snowmen versions of the other Guardians.

They sat in silence for a while, each minding their own business, when Jack suddenly realised that the snowman he was making was a miniature Angus. Angus, on the other hand, completely froze when he realised the shape he was making with the molten rock was of a snowflake.

The two teenagers thought back to what North was trying to get them to do—get along, but they were such polar opposites, it was a difficult thing to just be even near one another.

They stole a glance at each other, but when their eyes met, they immediately looked away again.

Jack pouted. This was getting really silly, he thought to himself, as he fiddled with the tiny Angus snowman he was making, willing the ice to dance around slightly in twirls. He let the tiny Angus dance around for a while, unknowingly catching the attention of the fire spirit.

Angus turned himself to see Jack playing with a small snow version of himself, and saw him dancing around the male part of the waltz. A small smile crossed his face, his hot cheeks darkening slightly, and he touched the ring of Dreamglass around his neck, melting it down to something manageable as he began to form a miniature himself.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise when he saw a small Dreamglass version of himself approach his snow-Angus. He looked up from his creation to see Angus approaching him, settling down on a patch of rock next to Jack.

They looked at each other for a moment, and they smiled slightly at each other, before turning their attention to the little figurines they had made.

The Dreamglass Jack bowed to the Snow Angus, who did the same, and then they joined together to complete the dance.

The two teenagers watched the two for a while, each concentrating on their own parts, but after a while, Angus spoke up.

"Where'd you learn the waltz?" he asked, almost murmured, and Jack grinned slightly.

"Jamie." Jack replied, and Angus gave him a blank look. He laughed, shaking his head. "He's my first believer. His class was learning how to dance the waltz so I helped him practice. Ended up learning it too." He replied, making the snow-Angus turn the Dreamglass Jack. "Funny how I'm dancing the female part here."

"Technically, I am." Angus laughed, "I'm controlling you."

"True," Jack grinned back at him, and they let the two figurines dance before finishing it off with a bow. The two teens, smiling settled back into a comfortable silence, Angus manipulating the Dreamglass back into a band around his neck. "So, where'd you get that band?" Jack asked after a while.

"I got this when Sandy knocked you all out." He replied, still tweaking the clear golden band around his neck for the sake of fiddling with something to not appear too awkward around the winter spirit.

"The night you disappeared from North's radar?" Jack asked, and Angus stiffened up slightly. "You look guilty about it."

"… I had to hide for a while. Heat up for a little bit." Angus replied dismissively, and Jack sighed and shook his head.

"Y'know, I don't know what is up with you and not helping us out. Okay, I get you not wanting to help me, but why not the others? You're a spirit too. The Man in the Moon brought you back for a reason. You need to help us protect the humans—the children."

"That Man in the Moon made me live this long to torture me," Angus growled, and Jack backed away, unwilling to ruin this somewhat peaceful reprieve between them. The flame spirit sighed and slumped down, his shoulders slumping. "… Sorry." He mumbled and Jack nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking… how did you go?" Jack asked, and Angus gave him a confused look. He shrugged helplessly, "Y'know, how did you… kick the bucket? I drowned in a frozen lake, how about you? Um, in a fire?"

"Oh," Angus sighed, looking down at his hands. "… I didn't die. I was born like this."

"… Wow, really?" Jack asked, and Angus shrugged. They didn't speak for a while after that, Jack wondering what Angus's life might have been like.

"Let's get going." Angus suddenly spoke up. "It'll be better off if we got out of here." He stood up and brushed himself off.

"… Y-yeah," Jack replied, somewhat reluctant, following Angus's lead. Angus's response intrigued him about the boy, and he wanted to hear more about him, but for now his questions would have to wait. It was probably too cold for Angus to be comfortable, anyway. He picked up his staff and followed Angus to the cave entrance. The cave itself was dark, almost pitch black, but Angus was emitting a warm, bright light, so Jack could see what was inside—it was completely made of rock and ice, and there were two tall, tall levels he was sure they had to climb in order to get out.

They were far too tall for either one of them to climb by themselves. Angus was right; they had to work together.

"So." Jack began to say, as Angus began to melt his Dreamglass again. "Got a plan?"

"I've got a harness," Angus replied, making a thin, thin band from his Dreamglass and tied it around his waist. "Careful, though. It's hot."

Jack grinned at him, taking the molten glass from Angus's hand with his staff. He winced slightly—he could feel the uncomfortable heat radiating off his staff, but he decided to endure it. "So, together then?"

"Tally-ho." Angus grinned at him, and jumped up as high as he could onto the nearest rock. Melting the rock and dipping his hands in it, he gestured at Jack with his head for the spirit to jump.

So jump, Jack did, with Angus pulling up the rope that was wound around his staff to raise him higher than he could jump. Jack, gritting his teeth, ground his hands into the ice wall and froze them in place before looking down at Angus.

"Your turn." He called, and the fire spirit freed himself from the stones and jumped up, Jack pulling up his staff to get Angus higher than he could jump.

They continued in relative silence after that, talking only to cue each other to move, and when they reached the first level, they both decided to take a breather the both knew they really didn't need.

Sitting together, side by side against the rock wall, in comfortable silence, Jack was reminded of a scene he saw in his dream back when Angus had sung him to sleep. The two of them were snuggled up together in a cold cave much like the one they were in now, comfortable and content with each other's presence.

"… Hey," Jack began to say as Angus spoke up, twining the golden band of Dreamglass around his neck into intricate designs.

"Did it hurt?"

"… Wh-what?" Jack blinked, confused, and Angus turned his head to look at him.

"Dying. Did it hurt?"

"Oh." Jack looked down at his hands. "Do you want me to be brutally honest with you?"

"Yes."

"It hurt. It hurt so much, and it was so, so dark. So… scary. I was so frightened, and it felt like my entire body was on fire." Jack slowly began to say, thinking back on his memories of his death. "My lungs were burning up, my skin, my eyes, my legs, my arms… everything. It was so cold it felt like I was being set on fire." He looked at Angus, who was watching him intently. "… It hurt. A lot."

"I can tell." The winter spirit replied, holding up a finger and holding it near Jack's eye. Much to his surprise he felt liquid warm up on his cheekbone and evaporate. "You must have not liked it."

"Of course," Jack replied, as Angus pulled his hand away. "Who would want to die?"

"… I would."

Jack blinked at Angus, clearly confused and shocked at his confession, but then suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of familiar laughter.

"Pitch!" Jack hissed, quickly getting up, and Angus did as well, increasing the light emitting from his body. Beyond Angus's light, shadows moved around, twisting and turning as familiar, haunting yellow eyes came into view. "What're you doing here?" he demanded, holding out his staff threateningly at the man as Angus secretly formed a Dreamglass firefly and sent it away to warn North of the danger below the workshop.

"I came to pay you boys a visit, that's all." Pitch smirked, "How convenient for the two of you to be in such a dark environment, I shall have to thank North for putting the two of you here."

"Get out," Angus growled at him, hands aflame as he stood protectively in front of Jack. The winter spirit's eyes widened at Angus's actions, but quickly sobered up and got ready to fight as well. "You have exactly half a minute before I make you."

"Oh, I assure you, Angus, this is not about you. Now go away. I thought you hated dear Frost here?"

"People change," Angus replied, and Jack shot him a look of surprise, but the spirit grinned. "Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people. But I do hate you too now. You almost killed me that night, and frankly, I'm not letting you get away with that."

"Oh, brilliant." Pitch rolled his eyes. "Playing the hero this time, are we? Well, no matter. I have important things to discuss with you, Jack."

Suddenly the darkness around them came down upon them, completely washing their vision with pitch black darkness that even blotted out Angus's brightness from Jack's view.

"Angus!" Jack yelled for the other teen, desperately clawing at the shadows and the black Dreamsand swirling all around him, but suddenly the blackness cleared and he was left in the cave alone, with Pitch grinning behind him. Whirling around, staff at the ready, Jack attacked, sending bolts of ice right at Pitch viciously. The man, smirking patronisingly at the younger spirit, blocked all his attacks with his black Dreamsand, until one tendril caught Jack's wrist, pulling the boy painfully away from Pitch, earning him a cry of pain.

"Ah, ah. We can't play rough, now, Jack. I just wanted to talk."

"The last time you said that, we stole ice cream and played Russian roulette with it in a park," Jack replied dryly, struggling in the tendril's iron grip on his wrist, trying in vain to free his hand that held his staff. "What do you really want?"

"I wanted to show you something, Jack. I think you might like it."

The winter spirit paused, curious. "What're you talking about…?"

"Take my hand, dear boy, and I'll show you." Pitch smirked, the grin on his face a snake's grin as he offered his bony hand to the winter sprite.

Angus struggled in the midst of the seemingly endless sea of Dreamsand that washed over him. He had three huge bears made of black Dreamglass guarding around him, shielding him from the Dreamsand, but more and more just poured in to cover him. Growling, he climbed up the three bears to see Jack staring at Pitch's outstretched hand, unknowing of an approaching wave of Fearlings coming right towards him. His eyes widened, and he struggled to stay aloft as beneath him his Dreamglass bears began to move, fighting off the throes of Nightmares and Dreamsand coming right at them. The bear Angus was riding began to sway precariously and Angus let out a curse as he swayed.

Dishevelled, he forced himself upwards, feeling his energy sap from him faster than he liked, with the low temperature of the area eating at the heat he was radiating.

"Damn it, Jack! Watch out!"

His screams were drowned out by the waves of black Dreamsand washing all over him, and he felt like he was being tossed around in a sea of sand.

Jack paused. "… You're not pulling a trick, are you?"

"Jack, please," Pitch laughed, smooth and silky and all oh so tempting. "Did we not have a civilized time together the last time I wanted to talk to you?"

The winter spirit eyed the man's hand. Something was telling him there was something wrong with the entire situation, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from the offered hand.

"Take my hand, Jack. I'll show you something you've never seen before." Pitch pressed, "It'll be fun."

Jack's eyes darted up to look at Pitch, as unbeknownst to him, trace amounts of black Dreamsand went into his eyes, and slowly, thoughts of doubt began to leave his mind.

"Jack, please!" Angus screamed from afar, his voice echoing throughout the tunnel, but Jack didn't notice him. His mind was slowly clouding over as the Dreamsand took effect, Fearlings growing ever closer to him, their whispers reaching his ears and secretly trickling into them.

"Come on, Jack. Please? For me?"

His thoughts began to race as his head began to spin.

Come on, Jack. Pitch's hand is right there, ready to offer to you something completely new, you'll love it.

Give him a chance—he's so lonely. He just wants some company, it would be mean to leave him hanging.

He's smiling at you, he looks so kind, and caring….

Look at his smile, Jack. Why shouldn't you take his hand?

He needs you. Are you not a lonely soul like he is?

Would you ever leave him alone, like you were?

"Don't take his hand!" Angus's scream fell to deaf ears as the Dreamsand made Jack's mind up for him.

"Okay," Jack said dully, as he reached out his hand to hold onto Pitch's.

The moment their fingers touched, Pitch knew he had won. A grin spread across his face as Fearlings immediately surrounded them, covering Jack completely in darkness.

Angus's scream sounded beautiful to his ears.

Long live Jack Frost.

So. First part of three. I hope you guys liked it. Yeah.

Just a question for you guys. What do you think Angus looks like? Send us a FC, or even art! (I think we'd like art, Bukkun's in a mess and I would really like something to cheer her up with, so please, artists?) Drop the link or the answer in a review, or in Bukkun's Tumblr ask box here: bk - bukkun ! tumblr ! com * ask (exclamation points to periods, and asterisks to slashes. Remove spaces, please!)

Until next time! (That's where I truly shine! Ha!)

(And for those who are asking, yes, we're going to update Shining, Shimmering, Splendid. Please hold your horses, we're a little fucked-up right now. In the meantime, you can go stalk Bukkun's AO3 account, where she has 3 stories (two of which are porn, ugh, really) you can read while you're waiting for us slowpokes.)