Jack had always been alone.

When the Man in the Moon had brought him back from his cold watery grave, he had said only one thing: "Your name is Jack Frost." There were no explanations – just a staff that seemed familiar and powers of winter.

He figured out what he was supposed to eventually – the only thing that sparked a little warmth in his deathly cold body was the laughter of a child, and as he spun snowstorms and built snow drifts he found his way through the centuries of loneliness with that warmth.

He was alone, but with all he did for the children, he could live with it.

And starting years ago, winter wasn't the only thing he did for the kids. Once the sun had fallen and the moon had risen, he gripped his staff and took off in the clutches of the Wind. Cloaked by the dark blanket of night he would chase out any threat he could find – small spires of black dust, writhing shadows and eyes peering out from under beds, anything that would harm the children and their joy. He never let any spirits see him as he did so, knowing that it would be better if they kept their image of careless, mischievous Jack Frost untarnished.

He was alone, and he brought joy to the children, but also protected them beyond anyone's knowledge.

But now he wasn't alone, and he still made the children laugh and still protected them, but he did it standing side by side with his newfound family. A large-bellied Cossack with eggnog addictions (the father), an obsessive compulsive Tooth Fairy (the mother), a gold-sand mute who spoke only through charades (the uncle) and a short-tempered smart-mouthed Easter Bunny (the older brother) - his family. Jack stood beside them now, whether they were slaying nightmares, celebrating a holiday gone well or fidgeting uncomfortably in an awkward silence.

He wasn't alone. He brought happiness to children and himself, and as he protected them, guarded them, there were others to do the same to him. Because even after three centuries of being alone and shouldering decades of duties, he was still a child and still needed guarding.

So years after Pitch Black had been knocked down from power, when the new horror that had risen from the dark pinned him down and spat: "Why do you still believe? Those Guardians you treasure left you alone, unprotected, and did nothing to halt your lonesome suffering," Jack just laughed.

He threw back his head and laughed right in Hades' face, startling the newly born god into silence and banishing the darkness that had crept up his legs. He looked straight into eyes so green they seemed murky and said, "They might have, but I'm not alone and we protect each other now. If I stop believing, they'll disappear and I'll be alone again, won't I?"

He sent out a blast of icy force, throwing the grotesque spirit off him and slamming into a stalagmite of the cave they'd rushed into in the midst of their fight. Tapping his staff and drawing ice from the stone floor to lock around Hades' hands, Jack made his way over to the god and leaned over him. Pressing the ancient wood of his staff to his chest, he said, "This is my joy and duty now, and there's no way I'd let a death creep like you ruin it. Sayonara, oh Lord of Death – remember this: I'm Jack Frost and I came back from the dead, so don't mess with me or my family."