Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1:

Death really hated it when the Man in the Moon interfered with his job. Granted the Lunanoff Prince personally hadn't done so before, but people meddling in his affairs rarely ended well.

Death watched as the Moon's newborn spirit settled back to the surface of the frozen pond, the cracks in the ice freezing the instant his feet made contact. The Reaper idly fingered the hourglass that hung in the pendant around his neck.

Jackson Overland, Death mused, had been young. Granted humans didn't last that long to begin with, but the ones Jackson's age usually did fairly well for themselves. Then again you never knew; Jackson himself was proof of that.

He wasn't surprised the boy had died the way he had. Despite his love of tricks and mischief in general, Jackson's protective nature wouldn't allow him to hurt any of the younger children who were often on the receiving end of his jokes. He certainly wouldn't stand by and allow his little sister to come to harm; she meant the world to him. The boy had been scared, that was undeniable. Drowning was a slow way to die. The ice, at least, had sped things up a bit, and Jackson had been unconscious when his lungs had stopped working. Despite the fear, though, his last conscious thought had been at least she's safe. Rare, for a child so young to think of another in such a way with the knowledge of their own impending death.

Which was undoubtedly why the Moon had chosen him.

And a frost spirit! Death knew the Man in the Moon had never changed one of the dead before. Souls of the living and the dead were not the same; while they remained in the living world, the dead were more ethereal, difficult to sense for those who weren't Reapers or necromancers. They were even more difficult to manipulate; Death himself was the only one who could do so with any level of ease. The Man in the Moon had had no idea what he was getting himself into. The circumstances of Jack's death would have left marks on his soul that would have lingered until Death or one of the lesser Reapers came and helped the boy pass on. Given the Moon's lack of experience, and probably lack of ability, in transforming a dead soul, a frost spirit was probably the only thing he could have managed.

Either that or Tsar Lunar had a really twisted sense of humor.

The boy was in the process of creating whorls of fern-like frost on the trees with his staff. Death continued to watch as Jackson- Jack Frost, as the moon had named him- repeated the process on the surface of the lake.

If he'd had a face on which to put the expression, Death's brow would have furrowed. Jack's enthusiasm, his curiosity, was childlike. The boy was still a child, but the way he was excited about absolutely everything, looking at the stars, the trees, the frozen lake, his shepherd's crook as though he'd never seen them before, was too much like a toddler learning their first steps in the outside world.

He doesn't remember. A little bit of amnesia wasn't unusual. Most of the spirits Death and his Reapers assisted experienced some degree of memory loss, but it was unheard of that one so newly dead would have it to the degree Jack seemed to. Another result of the Moon's inept resurrection, perhaps?

A playful cry from the Wind brought Death out of his musings. He was surprised when she scooped the boy up, the frost sprite reacting with a startled, yet joyful, shout. That was certainly unusual; the Wind hadn't responded to anyone this way since Gaia's disappearance.

Jack laughed from above. The Wind's joy bent the tops of the nearby trees. Unfortunately she forgot about her new playmate in her excitement and dropped the boy, who gave another startled shout. The Wind rushed to catch him again; she didn't quite succeed, but she managed to slow his fall.

Death chuckled, a sound like sand blowing across a road. Those two were certainly a good match.

A quiet whicker had him turning away from the frozen pond, walking back into the trees to greet his horse. The steed raised his head as his rider approached and Death obligingly stroked the pale nose. Pleased, the horse shook his head, then observed his master out of one eye. Death recognized the question in the look and gathered up the reins, pulling himself into the saddle in answer.

There was nothing for him to do here. There was no soul needing guidance into the afterlife, no soul to assist in leaving its body, and he was behind as it was; Famine had requested help in France a while ago.

Then why was he still feeling the incessant pull he always felt when a newly dead soul needed him? Jack Frost had been given new life; he was no longer Death's concern.

Unless…

Oh, no.

Death quickly reined his horse around, his irritation at the Moon morphing into true anger as he kicked his steed into a gallop toward the town of Burgess, following the pull of that invisible line. The Man in the Moon may very well have created a ghost, one that was completely unaware of his state of being, and if so it needed to be dealt with immediately. Ghosts that were unaware that they were ghosts often attracted no end of demons and malevolent undead, eager for easy prey. Or, if left alone long enough, they would drive themselves to madness and turn into poltergeists. The best-case scenario was the ghost getting stuck in a time loop until someone helped them pass on. Long story short, it was an issue best resolved before it became a problem.

Death urged his horse on. Their passage was swift, silent and unmarked. Horse and rider cast no shadow in the light of the moon, and Death's steed left no hoofprints in the new snow; not even a flake was disturbed. He pulled back on the reins when they reached the top of a hill overlooking the little village. The horse snorted softly, tossing his head in agitation as his master dismounted. Death patted the horse's neck, running skeletal fingers through the mane before pulling away and walking to the edge of the forest.

He spotted the newborn spirit almost immediately; the child was stumbling to his feet after a decidedly ungraceful landing. Jack's lack of skill didn't deter him, though, judging by the way he was still laughing and grinning like a loon.

"Hi!" Jack said to the first person to come near him. The woman ignored him. To Death it was plain that she couldn't see the boy at all.

Jack didn't notice, though. He continued smiling and greeting anyone who came within five feet of him, completely oblivious to the fact that they didn't acknowledge him.

Well, he's not a ghost, Death thought. Ghosts spent most of their time in a world-between-worlds called, simply, the Between. When they walked the mortal plane, the aura of the Between clung to them like a second skin. Even newborn ghosts would have inhabited the Between for the briefest moments when they were unable to pass on. Jack didn't have even a hint of that aura about him.

But then what was Jack Frost? Death undeniably still felt a pull toward the boy, and if anything it had gotten stronger in the past few seconds. Deciding a closer examination of the situation might yield a few answers, the Reaper set off down the hill at a purposeful, yet unhurried walk.

The people at the outskirts of town noticed nothing but a strange tingling sensation, just below the surface of the skin, that made a shiver run up and down the length of the spine, and later resulted in a laugh with companions about walking through a 'ghost circle'. Death, for his part, ignored the humans he brushed past as he made his way toward the frost sprite he sensed quite prominently near the town's center. He had just reached the edge of the main plaza when he felt a sudden, sharp chill all throughout his being.

Death halted in his tracks, startled and slightly alarmed now. He could feel physical sensations in the living world, but they were considerably muted; not even an Antarctic ice storm would have the effect on him that stab of cold had.

Only when a feeling of hollowness grew in his chest (or the area where his chest would have been) did Death realize the sensation had been an echo, resonating strongly across his tie to Jack. His gaze fell upon the frost spirit almost immediately. The child's eyes were wide, breathing quick and shallow with fear and confusion.

Having seen the same expression on thousands of unaware ghosts, Death surmised a person must have just walked through the boy.

He was proven correct when an oblivious young couple passed through the frost spirit, eliciting a pained gasp from the boy and sending another echo of his pain through the Reaper.

Death felt that if he'd had eyes, they would be comically wide by now. This… well, this was certainly something he had never encountered before. He was already certain that Jack Frost was not a ghost, and yet Death was able to feel his emotions almost exactly as he did a ghost's. But ghosts had to consciously project their emotions for him to perceive them, or he had to consciously search them out. This sort of emotional broadcast, clarity of emotion as well as an impression of thought, only occurred when a person was about to die.

Further probing of this unusual bond showed that the emotional impressions Death received were slightly weaker than those he received from ghosts, and the thoughts he could see were not as clear as the ones he could read in a dying soul.

The moment that thought entered his head, Death had to resist the very human urge to rub his forehead in exasperation at himself for not thinking of it sooner. Pestilence had been keeping him busy recently though, so he supposed that could account for at least some of his slowness.

Death extended his senses so he could examine Jack Frost's soul. Something struck him as off the moment he began sifting through the surface layers. A foreign sense of foreboding wormed its way into Death's consciousness as his perusal took him deeper, closer to Jack's core.

When he discovered just what was wrong, Death found himself vacillating between astonishment at the singularity of this event and an overwhelming rage at the Man in the Moon.

Jack Frost's resurrection was incomplete. Death wasn't certain of the exact reason; it could have been the Moon's lack of knowledge in regards to necromancy, a lack of ability or knowledge in giving a soul new life in addition to transforming it, a lacking of the power necessary to complete the resurrection, or any combination thereof.

Jack Frost wasn't dead, but he wasn't exactly alive either.

Which left him inextricably linked to the realm of the dead and, by extension, Death himself.

As Death stood and pondered this new development, he noted yet another anomaly in the situation. The boy was at this point broadcasting his fear and confusion over his situation so strongly that someone other than Death must have sensed him. The Moon had been observing his new spirit since he'd been "reborn", and yet he was doing absolutely nothing to ease Jack's transition or assuage his fears. He hadn't even explained what he'd turned the boy into, for goodness' sake! Death and his Reapers never left a dead soul like this! Death's anger at the Moon, which had already been simmering heartily, became in genuine danger of boiling over.

Just as suddenly as it had risen, Death pushed his anger aside. Since the boy was technically not alive, and the Moon was apparently leaving things as they were, he saw no issue with taking things up where Tsar Lunar had left off.

First, though, he needed to deter any unwanted attention Frost's panic had attracted. Though still distant, Death could sense several unsavory auras approaching from every direction. Pleased to have a useful outlet for at least some of his anger, Death brought more of his aspect to the fore. The anger he was putting into it would make the expansion of his aura unpleasant and frightening to the spirits of the Moon's ilk he sensed approaching. The hunting ghouls he sensed would recognize his presence and find it downright menacing. If he could have, he would have smirked when he felt every single one of the undead come to a complete halt before bolting quickly back the way they'd come. It was rare he found it necessary to showcase his anger with such displays, but the results were always something like this; even the other three Horsemen would beat a hasty retreat and avoid him until he'd calmed down somewhat.

The other spirits took longer, not recognizing what or who they were sensing, but they got the gist of the message and began moving away within a few minutes.

The entire time he was projecting his threat, Death was extremely careful to make certain none of his threatening aspect reached Jack. He was frightened enough as it was. The poor child was approaching a full-blown panic, stumbling over his own feet as he backed toward the forest, clutching at his chest and breathing so shallowly and quickly he would have been in danger of passing out if he'd been alive. The last thing he needed was to sense a wrathful Grim Reaper.

When the last of the spirits had been turned away- Pitch Black had been stubborn as usual- Death returned his attention to Jack. Proving that Jack wasn't as invisible and intangible as he currently thought and providing some comfort was a foregone conclusion, but approaching the boy with his current appearance would most likely make things worse. All creatures, amnesia or no, knew Death. But humans (and human spirits) were thankfully easy to fool.

Reining his anger back in, Death began pushing his aspect back, caging enough of it so he would be able to assume a human form. The feeling of muscle and skin growing over bone was strange, as it always was. Death had never really made up his mind whether it was pleasant or unpleasant, but he was happy it wasn't as painful as it undoubtedly looked.

Once he felt the change was complete, he took a moment to test his limbs; flexing muscles to move was an even stranger sensation than growing said muscles. Pleased that everything seemed to be in working order, Death returned his gaze to Jack. The boy had managed to make it a few feet into the trees before collapsing at the base of a massive pine. He sat in a small nest created by the tree's roots, his staff leaning against the tree next to him, forgotten for the moment as he hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. His tremors had gotten considerably worse.

Preparing to approach the boy, Death decided to perform one last test. Though he had assumed a human form, he would still be invisible to all but the dead and the other Horsemen unless he desired otherwise. Maintaining that same level of invisibility, he moved out of the shadow of the house he'd been standing next to and walked toward the boy. He slowed as he came closer; Jack gave no indication he'd heard him approach, though the reason for that could also be his distress.

"Hello," Death said, the vibration in his throat and the movement of his jaw feeling just as foreign as the movement of his other newly formed muscles. Thought-form words were easier for him, although he sometimes enjoyed the feeling that came with having a voice-box.

Jack stiffened for the barest moment before his head snapped upward, eyes thoroughly startled as they met Death's. So he can see me. That confirms a bond to the realm of the dead.

In a bid to appear as non-threatening as possible, Death clasped his hands behind his back and smiled gently as he covertly examined the child. Jack had obviously been crying; still-wet tear tracks were visible on both sides of his face. His hands gripped opposite elbows so hard his knuckles were completely white and the rest of his body was so taut he was shaking. His eyes, blue instead of brown, stared at the figure standing before him with an unusual mingling of awe, uncertainty and such raw, innocent hope it was heartbreaking.

Death fought back a grimace, his anger at the Man in the Moon threatening to rekindle. He should not be looking at me like that. NOBODY should look at me like that.

"Can… can you see me?" Jack asked, voice shaking nearly as much as the rest of him.

"Yes," Death answered, still smiling, keeping his expression soft. Jack's eyes widened.

"You can hear me, too?" he said, hopeful now. Death's smile widened marginally, eyes closing briefly as he nodded and hummed an affirmative. When he opened them again, Jack was pushing himself up on unsteady legs. Noticing the frost sprite's slight forward lean and the movement of hands in his direction before they were withdrawn, Death obliged the child's unspoken wish and took both Jack's hands in his own, drawing him to his feet. Jack stared openmouthed at their still clasped hands once he was standing. His eyes flicked upward to Death's face for a second before darting back down to their hands.

Then Jack laughed, disbelieving at first, but the next ones were full of immeasurable relief. Death felt his smile gain a hint of authenticity when the frost sprite suddenly released his hands and danced around in several circles, sweeping up his staff and unconsciously calling down the Wind to share in his celebration. Just as suddenly as he'd started leaping about, Jack came to a halt directly in front of Death, barely a foot of space separating them. Jack craned his neck back so he could look his new companion in the face, smiling so broadly his face was split in two, eyes lit like shards of crystal clear ice in the sun. Jack only held his gaze for a few seconds before something else caught his attention and he looked down.

"What is that?" he asked, staring at the pendant hanging around Death's throat.

"An hourglass," Death answered simply.

"It's beautiful," Jack said, one hand reaching up toward the object of its owner's fascination. Stopping himself before he actually touched the thing, Jack looked up at Death again. "May I?"

Death nodded his assent, pleased he'd had the foresight to create a sphere of enchanted glass around the pendant when he'd shifted forms. Jack reached forward again, slightly hesitant. His fingertips barely brushed over the protective casing that surrounded the hourglass.

The instant he made contact, the hourglass inside the sphere glowed with blue-white light. Jack jumped backward with a tiny shout of alarm. Death, meanwhile, lifted the pendant up to eye level and held it in his palm, studying it.

The hourglass itself was still pulsing with blue light. The sand within, the color of new-fallen snow, was collected entirely within the bottom half. As Death watched, a few grains of sand floated upward as though suspended in water. They floated in single file up through the middle of the glass and back into the top half, where they proceeded to circle like leaves blowing in a gale.

"Well, that is certainly unusual," Death said, more to himself than anyone else.

"What's happening? What's it doing? Did I break it?" Jack said, staring wide-eyed at the glowing thing and unconsciously holding his staff a bit closer to his body.

Death chuckled. "No, Jack, it's only doing what it's supposed to do," he said, tucking the pendant into his robe. He would puzzle over its readings of Jack's fate later.

Jack blinked. "How do you know my name?"

Death's smile became a bit wry. "I know everyone."

Jack's brow furrowed as he pondered the strangeness of the answer. He didn't puzzle over it long, though. In less than ten seconds he was smiling right back, the tilt to his lips playful and slightly mischievous, as it had been countless times in his life before. "Well, it's not fair if I don't know who you are."

Death struggled with the sudden, absurd desire to laugh as Jack continued watching him, gaze intent but completely guileless. He has no idea what a loaded question that is. "I go by many names."

"Which one's your favorite?" Jack said, laughter in his voice as he hopped onto the crook of his staff, balancing as perfectly as a bird on a perch.

Death paused for a few seconds, observing the boy. Though he was smiling, finding fun in the potential of a new word game, his hands were constantly working, clenching and unclenching in an unconscious display of nerves. Previous ghostly happenstances considered, Death considered it most likely he was afraid of saying something that would drive away the only person who acknowledged him thus far.

He smiled at the boy again. "You can call me Ants'nel."

Jack's smile fell and he blinked, brow furrowing slightly. "That's… um…,"

Death's smile gained a hint of mirth as the frost spirit struggled to find something to say. "It's not English, if that's what you're wondering."

Jack's mouth curled upward again. "You don't say." The hint of a smile vanished as suddenly as if it had never been. Jack looked down at the ground, not noticing when he started clenching his hands again. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper. "Ants'nel… do you…? Are you…?"

"Jack?" Death inquired gently when the child was silent for a minute. Jack didn't give any sign he'd heard. A few moments later he slid off his staff, holding it close with white-knuckled hands.

"Do you… know what I am? Do you know why people don't… see me?"

Death heaved a large inward sigh, fighting back another wave of anger at the Moon. "Walk with me, Jack," he said, turning away from the boy. Hearing nothing behind him, he stopped after taking three steps and looked back. The child was staring at him, eyes wide and uncertain. Death realized then that he was walking deeper into the forest and, while the shadows didn't bother him in the slightest, Jack had stuck to the moonlit parts of the woods. Scared as Jack may be, Death would prefer to speak to the boy away from prying eyes. Tsar Lunar had no knowledge of his existence, and he preferred it that way.

"We have much to discuss," Death said, voice quiet and gently urging.

Swallowing, Jack hurried over to his side and kept pace as Death walked on. Death wasn't entirely surprised when the boy pressed closer to him the deeper they went into the trees, eyes moving from side to side, grip on his staff tightening as his unease grew.

When Death gently braced him with a hand on his back he stopped abruptly. Death halted in surprise when Jack grabbed a fistful of his robes and buried his face in Death's chest. For a few moments Death could only stare down at the mess of white hair beneath his chin. He tapped into his bond with the child and was struck immediately with waves of Jack's confusion over the situation and his fear of a repeat of the Moon's abandonment. Jack's need for some sort of reassurance was almost deafening.

Having encountered similar things with the souls of young children, Death decided his next few steps. He relaxed, wrapping one arm around the trembling form pressed against him and running his other hand through snow-white hair. Jack pressed closer to him, clutching with both hands now, and Death hummed a wordless reassurance when the boy emitted a quiet sob, continuing to gently stroke the frost spirit's hair.

"Don't leave," Jack whispered. The plea was broken and barely audible.

Death was glad the boy couldn't see the wryness in the smile that crept across his face. "I'm not going anywhere."

After all, I am life's only certainty.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:

In hindsight, Death supposed he should have seen this coming. After Jack had calmed down from his crying fit, he had been utterly exhausted, which had resulted in him collapsing the instant he'd gotten some of his wits back.

Which was how Death found himself in his current position; leaning against a tree with a lapful of sleeping winter spirit.

His steed had been decidedly unhelpful in the entire situation; when the damnable creature had finally decided to seek him out, the horse had done little more than approach the pair and examine the snoozing bundle in his master's arms. Then, looking as smug as it was possible for a horse to look, Death's steed had wandered off and began happily munching on grass.

Death knew his horse had wanted him to take some time off for a while now, but really. Famine was going to be in quite the mood when she came looking for him, which she eventually would.

The simplest thing to do, Death mused, would have been to leave the boy where he was and return when his business overseas was concluded. And yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

A sudden, sharp shift in position from Jack, accompanied by a sound somewhere between a cry and a whimper, reminded him exactly why that was. Death loosened his grip on the boy long enough for the child to settle himself so he was lying against Death's chest before wrapping his arms around Jack again, carding a hand through snow-soft hair when the boy gave another quiet cry. Jack relaxed at the touch immediately and his expression evened out as he slipped deeper into sleep.

Death suppressed a sigh as his horse, drawn by Jack's distress, trotted back over to take stock of the situation. The pale steed lowered his head, nose barely brushing over the winter sprite's cheek as he took in the child's scent. Jack twitched just slightly, then buried his face in Death's chest before curling in on himself. Death's steed whickered quietly, pawing the ground in agitation as his master gently rubbed the frost sprite's back to calm him.

"Please try not to wake him, my friend. He has been through enough today as it is," Death said, voice barely above a whisper. His horse studied him from one obsidian eye before returning his attention to Jack.

"Why did the Moon abandon his foal?"

Death did sigh then. "I do not know what he was thinking, waking the child with absolutely no memory and just leaving him like that."

And he honestly couldn't fathom what had possessed the Man in the Moon to do such a thing. To bring a being back to life with no memory and thus no connection with the world around them, and then not assisting them in making any sort of meaningful connections was beyond cruel.

It was even worse for Jack. From what Death had seen so far, Jack's base personality hadn't been altered by his transformation; the boy thrived off of positive, friendly connections with other beings. For the Moon to ignore that fact was… Well, Death didn't feel there was a word in any language strong enough to describe his anger toward the Tsar.

His horse suddenly raised his head and turned to look to the north, drawing Death out of his musings. A whinny of greeting had him turning his own head to face a black horse as it came trotting out of the woods toward them. Its rider wore a long tunic, boots and breeches that matched the steed's coat, the clothing a stark contrast to her pale skin and white blonde hair. The woman's frame was almost skeletal; she looked entirely too small to be able to control the horse despite the fact that it was even smaller than Death's mount. The expression on her face would have cast considerable doubt on any such assumptions, though.

"I think you're in trouble," Death's horse said.

Death probably would have groaned if he didn't think it would wake Jack. Though she certainly looked less imposing, Famine could be even worse than War when she was irritated enough to take him to task, and she certainly had enough reason to considering he'd apparently ignored her earlier summons.

Famine brought her steed to a halt a few feet away from the tree Death had settled himself against and dismounted. Her stern expression slipped just slightly as Death's horse ambled over and pressed his face into her chest.

"Hello, you," she cooed, scratching between his ears. "Has your master been working too hard again? Has he been ignoring you too?" The last bit was said with a pointed, narrow-eyed look in Death's direction.

"That's what you'd like everyone to believe, isn't it?" Death said, still in Horse. His steed merely twitched and ear in response before proceeding to nuzzle around Famine's pockets in search of treats. She laughed, reaching into a pouch strapped just behind her right hip and producing a large red apple. Death's horse took it in his teeth and, much to Famine's surprise, trotted back over to his master. It was Death's turn to be surprised when his horse placed the fruit in the crook of Jack's elbow, then gently nosed the boy's shoulder.

"Do you think he still needs to eat?" the horse asked.

"I very much doubt it, but it might bring him some comfort," Death answered, studying Jack's face. The boy was relaxed now, and the slightest smile curled his lips for a moment when Death's horse rubbed his shoulder again.

"What is that?" All hostility was gone from Famine's voice as she came up beside the horse and noticed the bundle in Death's arms. "That's not a soul."

"Not exactly," Death said, keeping his voice pitched low as Famine crouched beside him to examine the frost spirit. He watched from the corner of his eye as her lips thinned, then her brows furrowed.

"He feels like one of the Man in the Moon's spirits. Why are you bothering with him? But… wait, why is he able to touch you? He's not…," Famine paused. Death could feel her probing at Jack's soul as he had, and her eyes went wide when she realized what was wrong. Her mouth opened, but a stern look from Death had her closing it immediately. She studied her colleague for a moment before returning her attention to the sleeping child.

"What happened?" she whispered. She knew Death wouldn't have stayed with the boy this long, wouldn't have ignored her summons like he had, unless something had gone badly wrong. Well, more wrong than a botched resurrection at any rate.

"He had no memory when he woke," Death said quietly, adjusting his grip accordingly as Jack curled up a bit further.

"None at all?" Famine asked, barely above a whisper.

"Not as far as I could tell," Death responded. "The Moon simply told him his name and abandoned him."

"WHAT?!"

The level of incredulous rage contained in that (rather loud) whisper had both steeds raising their heads and staring warily at the Black Horseman. Jack made a tiny noise of distress, though thankfully remained asleep. Death calmed him by resuming stroking his hair; he was quite pleased at the moment that Famine was better at controlling her aspect than War when her emotions ran high.

"He just left a child he raised from the dead, with no memory, without even telling him what he is?" Famine said, voice dangerously low. The grass around her feet was steadily withering, her flesh becoming even sallower. Her horse whinnied in agitation behind her, which appeared to calm her the slightest bit. The ring of dead grass around her feet stopped growing.

"He didn't even respond when someone walked through the boy," Death said, allowing some of his own anger to color his voice.

"He didn't…," Famine quickly stood and walked back over to her steed when her aspect started expanding again. Death considered it lucky she'd had the sense to do so when the grass blackened wherever she stepped. The black steed, sensing his rider's mood, trotted over to her and lowered his head with a worried nicker. Famine reached up and absently ran her fingers through his mane as she glared up at the Moon shining through the trees. When she did nothing else for a minute, her steed snorted and bumped his head against her chest. He managed to get his rider to look at him and when she saw the way he was looking at her, she managed a wan smile and rubbed his head between the eyes.

Since Famine's horse was taking care of her, Death deemed it safe to turn his attention to Jack when the child suddenly jerked in his sleep again, grabbing onto Death's robes in a vice grip. Death gently rubbed circles along Jack's spine and the child relaxed again after a few seconds. Well, everything but his grip did.

Famine laughed as she moved back over to him. "Look at him; he's latched onto you like a little clam."

"Wonderful," Death said dryly, glaring at his horse as it snorted with amusement.

Famine crouched beside him again, tilting her head to the side as she examined the sleeping child's expression. Slowly, a gentle smile crept across her face.

"He's an adorable little thing," she said, reaching our and carding a hand gently through Jack's snow-white hair. "What's his name?"

"The Moon named him Jack Frost."

"And… before?"

"Jackson Overland."

"How old?"

"Fourteen."

Famine blinked in surprise. "That young? How did it happen?"

"A combination of cold shock and drowning," Death answered, glancing at Jack and moving to stroke the boy's hair again when the child moved to rest his head against Death's shoulder. He sighed, looking down at the boy's slumbering face. "What am I going to do with you, child?"

"What are you going to do with him? He's a frost spirit, for crying out loud! The summer sprites will tear him to pieces, like they did the others! Land sakes, what was War thinking with that mess?" Famine muttered the last bit under her breath.

"You know that wasn't her fault. She had her hands full with the Crusades, and humans tend to need our attention more than spirits."

"She could've at least tempered things a bit more! The winter sprites were almost completely wiped out, and they never recovered from it!"

Famine's tirade was thankfully cut short when Jack shifted again, making a tiny noise of contentment. Her gaze immediately softened when it was drawn to the young spirit. "I think this is the first time I've seen anyone so happy in your arms," she grinned.

Under different circumstances Death would've rolled his eyes at the joke. Now, though, his expression remained grim. "He doesn't know who I am."

Famine's expression fell. "Well, that complicates things. Are we going to tell him?"

"I do not know what the best course of action is at this point. He's frightened and confused as it is; learning of a connection to the realm of the dead…to me… will most likely make things worse. And, as you mentioned before, there is the matter of the general suspicion of the other spirits toward winter fey. If they learned of one with a connection to the realm of the dead, the consequences would in all odds be catastrophic."

"But you don't intend to leave him, either," Famine said with an arched look.

Death shook his head. "No. He believes me to be another spirit; I'll allow him to continue to think so for now."

"He'll need help as his powers mature; I'm sure War would be more than happy to teach him," Famine said, her nomination of the Red Horseman laced with a sarcastic undertone.

"I think it would be best to hold off introducing them for a while; she's in a bit of a sulk over the Spanish Succession, if I remember correctly," Death said, a small smile curling his lips. "Pestilence and some of the more senior Reapers would be better options."

"Solriss is your most level-headed Reaper. He'll be more than happy to take some time off to watch the child. Do you even know where Pestilence is? I haven't seen hide nor hair of him or his horse in over a year."

"I have a few ideas."

It was Famine's turn to sigh as she looked at the sleeping Jack again. "War's going to be upset when she hears about this."

Death laughed. "'Upset' is the best we can hope for."

Famine smiled, too. "So, I suppose we've adopted a frost spirit."

"It would appear that way, yes."

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

The White Horseman

November 1714

To say Pestilence was surprised when a small brown and white blur streaked through the treetops and landed barely five feet from his horse's nose would be an understatement. He didn't react beyond tugging lightly on the reins to bring his mount to a stop, but he was certainly intrigued. Whoever, whatever it was had plainly seen him, and it was also plainly not one of his colleagues. Nor was it-he, Pestilence realized, a Reaper.

His horse snorted and shook its mane as though disbelieving, mirroring its rider's sentiment.

The creature was a boy, one of the Moon's spirits if Pestilence's senses were still working correctly. He had white hair and wore ragged brown clothes covered with whorls of frost. In his right hand he held an old sheppard's crook. And judging by the way the boy was smiling and meeting the White Horseman's gaze with ice-bright eyes, the spirit could see him quite clearly.

"Hello!" The boy said brightly. "Are you one of Ants'nel's friends?"

Who in all the realms is… Then Pestilence blinked. This must be the frost spirit Famine mentioned. Jack.

"Yes. And would I be correct in assuming you are Jack Frost?"

If possible the boy's grin stretched even wider. "Yeah! That's me! How'd you know?"

"Our black-clad friend told me about you."

Jack's smile faded and his brow furrowed. "What does… 'clad' mean?"

Pestilence felt a smile threatening to show. "Clothed."

"Oh. Oh, Eia! You know her, too!" Jack said, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Pestilence surmised Eia was the name Famine had given Jack to call her by.

Said frost spirit was suddenly standing barely a foot from the white steed's nose, studying the horse intently. Barely a second later he was smiling again. "Your horse is really pretty."

The horse blinked. Then, slowly, it stretched out its neck and nosed Jack's shoulder, taking in his scent and snorting loudly as a few stray snowflakes wafted up his nose. Jack laughed.

"Hey, boy," he said, reaching up and scratching between the horse's ears. The horse whickered and pressed into the touch.

Pestilence could feel one eyebrow arch. His horse never liked anyone that fast. As though sensing his rider's incredulity, the white steed tossed his head and craned his neck around to give Pestilence a look.

With a sigh so quiet it wasn't really audible, Pestilence leaned forward and scratched his horse's neck in apology. The horse, mollified, returned his attention to examining Jack's ragged cloak. The child smiled again and reached up to run his fingers through the steed's mane.

"Do all of Ants'nel's friends have horses?" Jack wondered aloud.

"Most of us do," Pestilence answered. While he had little interaction with Death's Reapers he knew many of them did indeed ride, though some preferred driving carriages. A rare few simply liked walking everywhere.

"Do you ever smile?"

Pestilence blinked again. Then, when the question registered, he tilted his head to the side just slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think I've seen your face change except for, at most, a few degrees since we've been talking," Jack said, mirroring the tilt of the horseman's head as he tried to puzzle him out.

It had been so long since anyone had mentioned it that Pestilence had to think about his answer for a few moments. "I've never been known for my… expressiveness."

Jack's grin practically split his face. "Bet I can get you to smile."

"You're welcome to try."

At this point Jack laughed out loud, spinning around one full circle before calling the Wind to help him leap up onto a tree branch above the White Horseman. "Was that a challenge?"

"Read it however you will," Pestilence responded.

His horse whickered, sounding strangely like he was laughing, and stomped his hoof.

Jack grinned. "It's on," he said, laughing as he stood. "I have to head to Germany and stir up a snowstorm or two, but I'll find you later!"

The boy swooped off before Pestilence could even think of a response. He was back barely a second later, hanging from the branch of a large pine by his legs.

"What's your name, by the way?" he called down.

Pestilence cocked his head, considering.

"Maras," he answered after a moment. Jack grinned again, eyes sparkling in the light of the dying sun.

"Catch you later, Maras!"

With that the frost sprite was gone again, leaving nothing but a few branches and a light dusting of snow to show that he'd ever been there.

At least that was what Pestilence thought until he heard the crackling sound of a branch bending several feet above him, and barely a second later a large clump of snow landed square on his head. He sighed.

"Clever little sprite," he muttered, brushing snow out of his hair.

His horse whickered again, shaking his mane and dancing a few paces to the side.

"Oh, quiet, you."

Chapter Text

Chapter 4:

Missed You

July 1715

"Ants'nel!"

Death had barely been back in the living realm for five minutes before he was nearly bowled over by a very exuberant hug from Jack. He'd taken to keeping in human form when maintaining a level of discernibility that left him visible to the winter spirit. He'd had a few close calls when he'd been distracted by work or his own thoughts when Jack had almost seen him in full Death aspect. As expected, Jack's identity as a winter spirit had alienated him from the others of his ilk; many bullied him, the rest mostly ignored him. Learning that the 'spirit' he was closest to was actually the Incarnation of death wasn't likely to do him any favors.

"Hello, Jack," Death said once he'd recovered his balance, ignoring his horse as the infernal creature whinnied with laughter behind him.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months!" Jack said, grinning as he tilted his head back to look in Death's face.

"All over," Death said plainly.

"You always say that!"

"And it's always true," Death answered, smiling. "Most recently I was in Africa."

"Central Africa?" Jack asked. He always got excited when Death, one of the Reapers or one of the other Horsemen told him about someplace he couldn't go, namely the equatorial regions.

Death shook his head. "Southern tip this time."

"Oh," Jack said. "How is it there? I'm not due to visit for another two months."

Being who he was, Death rarely saw anything even remotely cheerful; he'd been in South Africa helping some newer Reapers deal with the aftermath of a tribal battle over an age-old dispute between two familial clans. One tribe had been almost completely wiped out, and when he'd left the survivors were being rounded up to be dragged to the coast and sold as slaves.

Most of the time humans really drove Death up the wall.

"It was unseasonably warm, in my opinion," he said.

Jack grinned. "Maybe I'll stop by a bit early this year, then."

Thoroughly put out at being ignored, Death's horse stepped past his master and shoved his nose under Jack's arm with a snort. Jack laughed and scratched between his ears for a second before dashing away. Whinnying, the horse cantered after him. Death found himself grinning as Jack led the pale steed in a merry chase, darting around trees and letting the horse get close before zipping to the side, sometimes grabbing teasingly at a strand of mane.

"And to think, no one's supposed to be able to outrun you," Death called to his horse as said steed whinnied in frustration at Jack, who laughed and waved as he hung upside down from a branch.

"Would you kindly make your foal stay put?!" was the response.

Death just laughed as the horse began trotting rings around the tree, occasionally kicking the trunk while Jack began dropping frosted pinecones from above. Seeing as they were likely not going to stop anytime soon, Death lay down, nestled comfortably in the roots of a nearby tree, and watched.

He woke he didn't know how many hours later to find Jack curled against his side, a peaceful smile gracing the frost spirit's face. Death's horse stood a few feet away, head lowered, eyes closed. As though sensing his rider's wakefulness (actually, he probably had), the horse opened his eyes.

"Having a foal is good for you, I think."

The horse proceeded to nicker in quiet amusement as his master attempted to extricate himself from his position, only to have the winter child wrap his arms around a black-clad torso and squeeze. If he hadn't been concerned about waking the boy, Death's horse would have whinnied aloud at the uncertain and just slightly alarmed look on his master's face.

Death eventually relaxed; having a body was strange, involuntary responses to emotion were something he wasn't quite used to. He wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders and felt Jack relax further, just the slightest bit. Death sighed.

"You realize I have work to do, little one," he said quietly, looking down at said child. Jack's only response was to bury his face in Death's black robe.

Death smiled, just slightly, and drew the boy closer.

Yes, thought the horse as he closed his eyes again. He is good for you.

Chapter Text

The Red Summer Sun

Jack's breathing was labored as he wove his way between the trees of a forest somewhere in northern Austria. He didn't remember the name, and at the moment he didn't care to; he could hear the shouts of the spring spirits behind him, farther back than they'd been a few minutes ago but still way too close for comfort.

What were they even doing here, anyway? The spring equinox had been a couple of weeks ago; there was still time for a snowfall or two. Primrose and her cohorts had no business coming this far north this early in the year. Not that it made much difference in Jack's situation, anyway. They'd come here, they'd seen him, and if they caught him… Jack didn't even want to consider it.

Jack didn't know why the spring spirits hated him the way they did. Sure, they were spring spirits and he was a winter sprite, but all he did was his job. He paved the way for Winter, which paved the way for Spring, which paved the way for Summer, which faded into Fall, then back to Winter, and the cycle kept going on and on. Jack had certainly never tried to encroach on their season, despite the fact that Primrose and her partner Amaryllis had tried to persuade the Fall seasonals to delay the coming of winter more than once. And if that didn't work (it usually didn't, the Fall seasonals may have been quiet compared to the Spring and Summer crowd, but they were damned stubborn), they would go looking for Jack and proceed to hunt him down and beat him senseless. Jack never bothered trying to fight back; there were half a dozen in Primrose's gang, and they were all older and stronger than he was.

And by the sound of it, they were currently gaining on him.

"Frost! When I catch you I am going to make you regret making me work this hard!" Primrose shouted.

Definitely gaining, and by the sound of it in a very foul mood. Meaning it would be all the worse for Jack when they caught him. Jack bit his lip to hold in a sob; he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. It had been over an hour already, his feet were cut and bleeding from pushing off the roughened bark of the trees, his legs were sore from propelling him every which way, and the mental strain of mapping out complex escape routes wasn't helping things. Jack needed to find a place to hide, and he needed it now.

The Wind, who was barely able to reach him in trees this dense, blew slightly to the left. Jack didn't question it and turned in the direction his friend had indicated, heart practically leaping out of his chest when he heard a branch crack close behind him.

"Got you now, Frosty!" Amaryllis taunted, sounding like he was barely thirty feet behind Jack.

Jack tore through a tangle of branches, spitting several twigs out of his mouth once he was on the other side. His face was stinging with innumerable tiny cuts, but he forgot the pain immediately when he saw a small hole at the base of a large pine tree. It would be a tight fit, and there were a lot of prickly-looking bushes in front of it, but a few thorns were preferable to whatever the spring sprites had planned for him.

Jack dove through the opening, biting back a cry as the thorns snagged at his clothes, dragging him to a halt. He dug his fingers into the ground and pulled, ignoring the pain as several of the longer thorns raked over his skin. Once he'd wormed his way inside the tiny hole, he turned around as quickly as he could and snatched his staff in the nick of time.

Primrose came barreling through the same gap in the branches Jack had come through, strawberry colored hair a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. Scratches littered her face and the skin exposed by her torn brown leggings and green tunic. Her emerald eyes were wild, with a menacing glint to them.

Brown-haired Amaryllis was right behind her, the other three members of the gang shoving their way through the branches close behind him.

"Where the heck did he go?" Primrose snarled, scanning the clearing with a glare that could have curdled new milk.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, pressing himself further back into his hiding place despite the numerous thorns poking his back and legs.

Make them go away, he thought fervently. I don't care how, just please, please, make them go away.

Then, barely a second later, he felt every single one of his hairs stand on end. Jack's eyes snapped open as the iron taste of blood spread over his tongue, and less than a second later his nose was assaulted by the sickly sweet scent of rot. For what seemed the barest moment, and at the same time a length of days, sound roared in his ears; clashing steel, the ring of battle cries.

And then he realized all the noise wasn't just in his head; the summer sprites seemed to be arguing with each other. Cracking open his eyes he was greeted by the sight of Primrose shoving Amaryllis and Amaryllis, incensed, pushing back.

"You were at the front of the line!" he was shouting.

"You were the one yelling so loud I couldn't hear anything!"

"You were both yelling so loud nobody would've heard a redwood tree falling right next to 'em! No wonder ya couldn't tell where he went!" That was Leiron, Amaryllis's brother.

Amaryllis and Primrose immediately turned their glares on him.

Then amber-haired Freesia stepped in. "Oh, come on, guys. You've gotta admit you were being kinda pathetic, all that yelling and strutting and 'I'm-oh-so better than you, I'm gonna catch the little frost sprite first' crap! You're both so full of yourselves I don't know why we even bother hanging around you half the time!"

That did it. With a furious yell Primrose tackled Freesia, taking them both to the ground, where they proceeded to roll around, scratching and punching at each other's faces and chests and yanking viciously at each other's hair. Amaryllis, meanwhile, leaped at his brother and sent them both flying into Lilac, who kicked the siblings away with an angry yell.

Jack, for his part, could only gape at the free-for-all that had erupted in front of him. The spring spirits were the most mean-tempered ones he'd met and they argued frequently, but he'd never seen them actually fight like this before. It was somewhat amusing, though, when an irate Lilac grabbed the still-scuffling Leiron and Amaryllis and threw them both through the thickest bit of pine needles she could find. The boys' response was to begin throwing pinecones. Very sharp pinecones, and they were throwing them rather hard. Their aim was also not that good; while one of the prickly projectiles did hit Lilac in the chest, the rest of them went wide and landed near the tumbling forms of Primrose and Freesia, who promptly rolled on them.

Jack had to bite his hand to keep from laughing at the sprites' surprised exclamations of pain. The look of shocked indignation on Primrose's face! Oh, he'd never forget it!

With angry cries, all three female sprites leaped after the boys, who decided the best strategy at the moment was a rapid advance in the opposite direction. Jack snickered as quietly as he could manage as he listened to the sounds of his former pursuers crashing through branches, shrieking promises of vengeance at each other.

As the sounds grew fainter, Jack grimaced and smacked his lips. The taste of blood in his mouth had faded, but it was definitely still there and he couldn't figure out why. He couldn't feel any cuts, and his lips weren't bleeding…

The sound of pine needles crackling on the other side of the clearing had Jack quickly turning his head to face that direction. Barely a second later he was pressing himself to the ground and pushing himself as far back into his hiding place as he could go, eyes wide, breathing ragged with terror.

Stepping out of the shadows was the largest horse he'd ever seen. Its hooves were steel silver; the coat and mane were a shade of red that reminded Jack unpleasantly of freshly spilled blood when they caught the dappled sunlight at the right angle. Its eyes seemed to be lit from within by an orange flame, and when it champed at its bit, Jack could see that its teeth, rather than being flat, were sharper than any knife he'd ever seen.

The rider was no less intimidating. He was clad head-to-toe in plate armor colored nearly identically to his horse. A helmet with a visor and flowing red plume concealed his face, and a gigantic longsword hung in a sheath at his waist. Looking closer, Jack felt another thrill of horror when he saw that the fingertips of the armored gloves the horseman wore had been fashioned into claws.

The rider brought his horse to a stop in the middle of the clearing. Then, to Jack's surprise, he reached up and removed his helmet. It was further to his surprise when Jack realized the he was in fact a she, with ebony black hair that reached just past her shoulders, turning from black to a bright crimson at the tips. She shot a contemptuous look in the direction the fighting spirits had gone.

"Spring sprites," she scoffed, tucking her helmet under her arm. Her horse snorted in apparent agreement, pawing at the ground and champing viciously at his bit. His rider reached forward and gently stroked his neck, which seemed to calm him slightly.

Then the woman's gaze moved to Jack's hiding place and the winter spirit's breath froze in his throat. A slight frown tugged at the woman's mouth. Sensing the shift of his rider's attention, the horse turned his head and, apparently catching a whiff if Jack's scent, snorted and began tossing his head.

"You can come out now. I know you're there and I know you can see me," the woman said.

Jack was too frightened to respond.

The woman lifted the reins in one hand and nudged the horse's side with an armored boot. The horse immediately turned to face the bush Jack was hiding under, snorting and pawing the ground, straining against the bit.

"You can come out on your own, or I can send my horse in after you," the woman said. She smiled and, though the expression was amused, there was something drop-dead frightening about it. "I won't hurt you, but I can't make any promises about him."

Deciding he did not want to become closely acquainted with those teeth, Jack slowly pulled himself out of his hiding place, poking the crook of his staff out ahead of him in case the horse decided to attack the first thing that moved.

It didn't , thankfully, and Jack was able to push himself up on shaking legs, but he found himself unable to meet the rider's eyes. Instead he stared at the ground near the horse's hooves, shaking and instinctively clutching his staff closer to his body. He tensed when he heard the creak of leather, and flinched visibly when the woman dismounted. Jack glanced up in alarm, backing away a step when the woman took a step toward him. Her sharp brown eyes met his gaze, and she slowly raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Calm down; I'm not going to hurt you," she said quietly.

The horse snorted furiously behind her and stomped a hoof. The woman turned around to glare at him.

"No."

Though not spoken loudly, the command-and threat- in her voice was clear. The horse's ears drooped and he lowered his head slightly. Satisfied that the horse wouldn't be any trouble, the woman turned her attention back to Jack.

"What is your name, spirit?" she asked, taking another slow step toward him.

"J-Jack," Jack managed to stutter. "Jack Frost."

The woman's eyebrows climbed her forehead, and a moment later she sighed.

"Suppose I should have expected that," she muttered, more to herself than anything. Jack blinked in confusion.

"Wait… do you know Ants'nel?" he asked, grip on his staff loosening just slightly.

The woman smiled. Thankfully it was nowhere near as terrifying as it had been before. "Yes. He told me about you."

"Oh. Umm…, he never mentioned you." This was surprising, now that Jack thought about it. Ants'nel had told him he didn't associate with many spirits, but he knew a decent number of beings and got on fairly well with most of the ones he did associate with. Not mentioning this woman… Jack couldn't imagine someone this frightening simply slipping someone's mind.

As though reading his thoughts, the woman smiled. "I've known him for a very long time; we're close friends." Then she grinned. "And believe me, he doesn't find me anywhere close to intimidating."

Jack's jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. "Are you joking?"

The woman laughed. "You just haven't seen him mad yet." Behind her, the horse snorted and tossed his head in apparent agreement. Jack, despite himself, grinned.

Then the woman reached out and gently traced a particularly deep cut in Jack's right cheek. Jack, who hadn't even notice she'd gotten so close, flinched back, grin falling and bringing his staff up just slightly. The woman pulled her hand back, and Jack felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of her clawed gauntlets.

"Did the spring sprites do that to you?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet and pitched low.

"N..no," Jack said. "I cut myself on a tree branch when I was running away from them."

"Why didn't you stand up to them?"

"I can't!" Jack shouted; he wasn't entirely sure where this strange ache in his chest had come from, but it was making his eyes sting. "There's five of them and one of me! And they're all older and so much stronger than I am! Do you have any idea what they would've done to me if they'd caught me?"

The woman, to Jack's utter disbelief, chuckled. The horse was even more vocal, snorting, pawing at the ground and shaking his head in the most disapproving attitude Jack had ever seen a horse pull off.

"The spring spirits are all bluster. A few good blows and they'll fold like dried-up leaves," the woman said.

"B…but before you got here they were fighting! Primrose and Freesia were trying to rip each other apart!"

This time she outright laughed. "You call that kitten-tussle fighting? The worst they were doing was slapping cheeks and pulling hair. If they went up against someone who actually knew what they were doing, they'd be in no end of trouble."

"I guess," Jack said, half to himself as he looked at the ground.

"I could teach you."

Jack's head snapped up as he stared at the woman. Apparently the horse was just as shocked as he was; the red steed was staring at his mistress like he didn't know the figure standing in front of him. Taking notice, the woman smacked him lightly on the nose. "Oh, hush up! He's one of ours, you wouldn't be able to trample him anyway."

"Would he?" Jack asked, edging nervously away from the horse when it glared at him.

"That or rip you to shreds; he prefers trampling people first, though," the woman said as she moved toward the center of the clearing.

"You coming?" she called over her shoulder when Jack didn't follow.

Jack didn't answer, staring at the horse who now was arching his neck and… Jack could swear it was smirking at him.

That is, until his rider returned and smacked him on the neck. Hard. The horse whinnied indignantly and stepped sideways, glaring reproachfully at his rider. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back. After a few tense seconds, the horse's ears drooped and he lowered his head to the ground.

"That's better. I'll find some fresh corpses for you to stampede over later," the woman said. The horse raised his head, ears pricked, staring hopefully at his rider.

Jack probably would have laughed at the way the horse seemed to be saying Promise? if he wasn't so unnerved about the woman's statement. Did… did she say… corpses?!

"Are you coming, Jack?" the woman called from the center of the clearing.

"Umm… yeah," Jack said. Giving the horse (which was at this point ignoring him) a wide berth, he walked slowly over to the massive armored figure.

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?" Jack said, as politely as he could manage.

The woman's face split in a savage grin that instantly made the much smaller sprite want to fly like all get out to the opposite side of the planet. "You can call me Valka. Now, what I'm going to show you are some basic fighting forms and locks you can use…,"

While his mistress was instructing the little winter spirit, the red steed ambled around the edge of the clearing. Upon finding a bunch of purple primroses left by the spring spirits, the horse raised his head and snorted as though personally affronted.

Attack one of ours, will you?

He then proceeded to mercilessly stomp the flowers into the dirt.

Chapter Text

Fun Flakes and Horsemen

"Good, that was better. Now, again."

Jack groaned. "Solriiisss, we've been at this for at least an hour."

Solriss very obviously suppressed and eye-roll. "Jack, it has been less than forty minutes."

"But I have to go to Norway to stir up a snowstorm… Come on," Jack said.

Solriss crossed his arms and gave Jack an arched look, and Jack realized he probably shouldn't have mentioned Norway. Solriss' massive stature, unusual accent and long blonde hair and beard had always reminded Jack of the tales he'd heard of the great Viking warriors, and for all he knew Solriss had been one before he'd become a spirit.

Which meant he would know all about the weather in the region.

"I'm quite sure the Norwegians wouldn't mind waiting another day or two for their cold spell. That aside, wouldn't it be nice if you could help them direct their ships into port if you could work better with Wind? Or if you could show them the beauty that can be had in winter with those little flakes of yours?"

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Well, I have heard a lot of grumbling whenever I go up there…,"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Now, W… Valka told me she's been working with you on finding a focus. How is that going?"

The sudden shift in topic startled Jack enough that he was silent for a few moments. "Um… well, I've learned to concentrate on one thing when we're sparring; she says it's best if you focus on your opponent and analyze their technique, but I'm not that good yet. I still have to think about the blocks and forms and stuff she's taught me, but if she comes at me with something basic, I can usually go four or five minutes without her knocking me over."

Solriss nodded, a thoughtful smile curling over his mouth. "All right. That's pretty good, considering how much… well, larger she is than you."

Jack felt a blush coloring his cheeks as he ducked his head. "She holds back. Way back."

Solriss outright laughed this time. "She has to with essentially everyone! Land sakes, she tosses me around like one of your snowflakes in a gale when she gets too into it!"

Jack eyed Solriss's massive frame uncertainly; while Jack was an absolute twig next to Valka, he could swear she and Solriss were roughly the same size. Heck, Solriss might even be slightly larger. "I think I'd need to see that to believe it."

Solriss laughed again. "I'd invite you next time we spar, lad, but I don't want to give you nightmares."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow of his own.

Solriss grinned. "Trust me, boy, you do not want to see old Red when she's real riled up. Now, as I was saying, you can apply the principle of a focus not only to physical combat, but to your magic as well."

"Really?" Jack said in surprise.

Solriss nodded. "Yes, though they're more emotional focuses than what you'd be using in physical combat. As I'm sure you've noticed, your powers are heavily based in your emotions."

"Yeah; I've actually started using special snowflakes to make people laugh!" Jack said. Solriss suppressed a smile when the winter spirit began bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Talking to yourself, Frost?"

Jack's smile fell from his face as he turned to face the tall, dark form of Pitch Black, who grinned back at him. Then the words registered and he glanced at Solriss, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"He can't sense me, lad."

Jack had suspected as much; he'd realized a long time ago that he seemed to be the only spirit able to see Ants'nel and his friends. He'd asked the older spirit about it, but Ants'nel's only words on the subject were that none of the spirits could see them unless they wished it.

"What brings you out here, Pitch?" Jack asked, returning his attention to the Boogieman. Though he often heard of Pitch's exploits, it was rare he ever laid eyes on the spirit himself; it was even more rare Pitch ever talked to him. Actually, it was rare anybody not associated with Ants'nel talked to him.

"Avoiding the question, Frost?" Pitch replied, grin widening. "You know, humans consider talking to oneself the first sign of madness."

"Rather rich, coming from a Boogieman who speaks to shadows," Solriss mused out loud. Jack laughed.

"Says the guy who talks to shadows," Jack said when Pitch gave him an odd look. Pitch pursed his lips and frowned at the frost spirit, who just grinned back.

Angry chitters and chirps had both Jack and Pitch looking to the south, and barely a second later a swarm of eight tooth fairies were zooming out of the swirling snowflakes toward them. They formed a buzzing barricade of green between Jack and Pitch, each of them facing the Boogieman. Two of them, apparently the leaders, were chittering angrily at Pitch, who now looked bored and slightly annoyed.

"You do realize I understand absolutely nothing of what you're saying, correct?" Pitch asked, smile reminiscent of a shark's.

The fairies' chittering only got angrier. The leader began gesturing furiously at Jack; Pitch rolled his eyes.

"I have no intention of harming the frost sprite."

And as usual, people talk about me like I'm not even here, Jack thought with an eye roll.

"Ignoring us? Rather rude. At least I have the benefit of being invisible," Solriss said as he walked forward to stand beside Jack. Jack grinned as Solriss gently turned him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, we were discussing emotional focuses. You were talking about making special snowflakes to make people laugh? Can you explain that to me?"

"Ummm…," Jack said, glancing uncertainly at the fairies and Pitch, who were still snapping back and forth at each other (though it seemed rather one-sided on Pitch's end). "Well, it works best when I remember how much fun I have in the winter… or sometimes just fun times in general. I shape a glittering blue snowflake and blow it at a person, and it cheers them up."

Solriss smiled. "And that's a perfect example of a magical emotional focus."

"What?"

"Controlling your emotions in order to direct your magic; when you want to create one of those snowflakes, you have to dredge up happy memories or happy thoughts."

Jack grinned. "Solriss! You make being happy sound like a chore!"

Solriss's face went flat as he said, "It is. I find no measure of joy in this existence."

Jack doubled over, howling with laughter. After a few seconds had the spirit rolling around on the ground gasping for breath, Solriss leaned over him with a slightly concerned look.

"Your face!" Jack gasped. "You looked just like Maras! Oh, Moon!" And he collapsed again.

Solriss grinned. "Don't choke."

"Too late!"

Solriss burst out laughing along with the frost sprite, pleased the boy had forgotten the other spirits (who were still arguing and had no idea that Jack was laughing hysterically at apparently nothing barely ten feet away) for the moment.

Just as suddenly as he'd started, Jack stopped laughing and hopped to his feet. "Hey! You just gave me an idea!"

Before Solriss could even open his mouth to ask, Jack had leaped into the sky on a gust of wind.

Death barely kept himself from rolling his eyes as War and Famine continued arguing; they'd been at it for about fifteen minutes now, War often losing her tenuous hold on her temper and snapping at her Black colleague. Famine was much more collected, but the cold glint in her pale eyes showed that she was just as irritated with War as the Red Horseman was with her. War's steed was mimicking his rider's temper, occasionally extending his neck to nip at Famine's much more skittish mount, who was at the moment watching him anxiously. Death had to give the black horse credit, though; despite his obvious fear of the red steed, he never spooked. He barely even moved enough to jostle his rider.

War's horse snapped at the black steed's nose. The black horse moved his head just enough to get out of biting range and pinned his ears, stomping a hoof in warning. To Death's right, Pestilence's mount heaved an annoyed sigh, undoubtedly mirroring his silent master's sentiment. Death's horse flicked an ear in agreement.

The Four Horsemen rarely congregated like this outside of certain rituals, and this little altercation only served as a reminder of exactly why that was.

"Knock it off, both of you," Death admonished when War's horse made to move forward again, Famine's looking to be about over his fear and getting irritated enough to start biting back. Both steeds looked over to his cloaked figure; Famine's was decent enough to look slightly abashed. A look from Death's horse was enough to get War's steed to lower his head, snorting semi-apologetically. Their riders, on the other hand, continued with their thinly veiled insults and accusations of interference with the other's work.

"Are they going to keep this up much longer? We're going to be buried in this snow if they keep this up," Death's horse grumbled.

"AH-CHOO!"

The sudden, loud noise had all four horses rearing and whinnying in alarm. Death quickly leaned forward, gripping his steed's mane to keep his seat. When his horse's front feet found the ground again, all he could do was meet War's startled gaze. Famine appeared just as baffled as they were, and her horse had gone rigid with fear, staring directly ahead.

Death's steed voiced everyone's thoughts. "Was… was that Pestilence?!"

As though manned by strings, all heads turned toward the White Horseman and his mount. Pestilence, looking thoroughly irritated and sitting on what looked to be a mildly put-out horse, was rubbing his nose and sniffling.

Complete silence.

And then, from the top of a snow-covered pine nearby, the Horsemen heard a faint "Told ya, lad."

"Dang!"

War and Famine burst out laughing, Famine doubled over in her saddle and War practically hanging off her horse's neck. Famine's horse still looked slightly concerned, but War's steed was whinnying right along with his mistress. Death smiled broadly, managing to subdue his own laughter, but his horse was making absolutely no effort to hide his mirth, whinnying and tossing his head.

Pestilence glared mildly at his fellows, then turned and shouted at the tree, "Dang it, Frost, I'm allergic to fun!"

War actually fell over her horse's neck at that point, but she was laughing so hard she and her horse barely seemed to notice. Famine's horse snorted in disbelief and Famine herself looked close to tears. Death joined his steed and outright laughed, while Pestilence sat looking sullen and the white horse gave the equine equivalent of a despairing heavenward eye-roll.

Chapter Text

Holiday Hijinks

It had happened every year, for the last thirty years or so, without fail. Nicholas St. North, Guardian of Wonder, could not explain it. Every Christmas, at some point on his ride around the world delivering gifts, he would feel something. Something… curious was the only way he could think of to describe it; it wasn't exactly pleasant or unpleasant, but it always left him with a vague feeling of disquiet once it had passed. It reminded North of the feelings he would get when walking through a forest alone and suddenly coming across a cold spot that sent a shiver up your spine. He believed people referred to it as walking through a ghost circle.

The reindeer obviously felt something too, and this year had plainly been a bit worse than the last.

He had been flying west somewhere over the north Atlantic when the feeling struck him this time. It was over as quickly as it had come, but North nonetheless shivered in his thick woolen cloak.

"Whoa! Whoa, bratva! Easy now!" He shouted to his reindeer over the whistling wind, tugging frantically at the reins as the deer tossed their heads and bugled loudly, apparently trying to run off every which way. Donner seemed particularly upset, lowering his head and kicking up his heels.

After another minute or so of frantic rein-work and reassuring calls, the reindeer had calmed down and were once again flying in tandem.

North exhaled heavily, finally leaning back in his seat.

"Dobrota, that was certainly new!" He muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, several miles back, Death's horse had his ears pinned to his head and was prancing and snorting angrily while a disgruntled Death rearranged his cloak.

"Every year, without fail," Death muttered, pulling his hood further down over his head. This was the thirtieth year in a row North and his entire team of reindeer had run straight through him. Humans he barely noticed when they passed through him, but the Moon's spirits grated on his nerves because of the magic the Lunanoff Prince had used to grant them their semi-immortality.

"Reindeer are so rude! Absolutely no consideration for anybody else around! I swear, it's like they think those huge sticks on their heads will let them get away with anything!" the horse complained with another angry snort.

"Honestly, with all the times he's run into us, I'm surprised North hasn't learned to sense us," Death replied as he picked up the reins again, mildly amused at his steed's words.

"It's not funny," the horse grumbled, stomping a hoof for emphasis.

A few hours later Death and his horse were standing on the rocky outcropping above the lake in Burgess, near Jack's home, watching the laughing winter spirit flying through the skies above as snowflakes swirled down all around him. No matter that the weather had been a bit warm recently, Jack always made certain the children of Burgess had a white Christmas.

That was until North showed up; then the horse spent most of his time glaring daggers in the Guardian's direction.

And Death apparently wasn't the only one who noticed; less than half an hour after North's arrival, Jack landed lightly next to them.

"Who spit in your oats this morning?" Jack asked the pale horse, who promptly pinned his ears at North again and shook his head to show the object of his irritation.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "North?" He asked with an incredulous half-laugh. "What did he do to you?"

Death's horse whinnied angrily, flicking his tail.

"We had a bit of a run-in with North and his team earlier tonight," Death replied, feeling his own eyebrows climb his forehead.

"Run-through is more like it!"

Jack laughed. "You don't like reindeer, I take it?" he asked the horse.

The pale steed snorted loudly and stomped his hoof. Death chuckled and leaned forward, patting his horse's neck. The horse exhaled heavily and relaxed, but he was obviously still pouting. Jack grinned and rubbed the horse's forehead. The horse whickered, pressing his head into Jack's hand.

All three heads jerked up in surprise when a white arrow with silver fletching whistled past them, streaking onward to bury itself into the seat of North's sleigh.

And all three heads turned in tandem back in the direction the arrow had come from to see the figure of the White Horseman astride his steed at the top of the rise, his bow still held loosely in his left hand.

"What did you do?" Death asked as Pestilence nudged his horse into a trot and guided it down the hill toward them. Sensing the power in Pestilence's arrow he had a feeling he knew, but he couldn't quite believe Pestilence would do such a thing.

The White Horseman gave him a blank look as he slung his bow back over his shoulder, bringing his horse to a stop beside Death's. "I'm certain you know."

"Pardon me for being a little incredulous; practical jokes aren't exactly prevalent in your repertoire."

"Consider it a bit of… playful retaliation for earlier."

At the word playful, Death shared a disbelieving look with Jack, then looked at Pestilence with slight concern.

"I think your foal has infected him," Death's horse said, sounding slightly alarmed.

"What did you do?" Jack asked, slightly hesitant.

Pestilence cocked his head slightly to the left as he considered Jack. "Gave them all a minor infliction that should prove… entertaining when the reindeer receive their breakfast tomorrow morning. Oh, no need to look so worried, it will wear off in a few days."

"What did you give them?" Jack asked, curious now.

Death could swear he saw Pestilence's mouth quirk upward just the slightest bit. "Hay fever."

Chapter Text

Chapter 7:

April 14, 1912

Humans, for all their intellectual capacity, could be such utter fools.

Death sat on his horse, observing the people far below them on the deck of the massive ship. Most of the passengers were laughing and talking among themselves, while a few kicked about the chunks of ice that littered the deck after the ship's collision with the iceberg.

I don't think the captain has even told them what's going on, Death thought to his steed. The horse snorted and shook his head in response.

"I don't see any third class passengers," a female voice said quietly from Death's left; Aditi, one of the younger Reapers.

To Death's right, Solriss snorted derisively, gently tugging on his reins to calm his agitated blood-bay mare. "We'll probably be seeing a lot of them in an hour or so."

None of the assembled Reapers responded. At least not verbally, but the tightening of hands on reins, slight shifts in saddles and the stomping hooves of the normally stoic horses was enough indication of their feelings on the matter.

Forty minutes later saw Death in one of the boiler rooms, quickly pulling free the souls of the engineers who had been working to vent steam from the ship's massive boilers. Death worked as quickly as he could, releasing his aspect and allowing it to spread outward so he could take them all at once for the most part, before they could be conscious of much.

Moving back out into one of the main halls, one that was at this point mostly underwater, Death was greeted by the sight of the Reapers he'd brought with him rushing to and fro. The older ones were carrying the souls they'd taken, the mentors looking a bit like harried parents as they both coached their anxious younger charges and worked to calm the frightened souls they held.

Death quickly allowed more of his aspect free, expanding it to the point he was able to sense his Reapers and the souls of the dead and dying more intensely, and they him. The elder Reapers relaxed instantly. The younger ones, who had never been made so cognizant of their bond to Death, were initially startled but they relaxed as well as they sensed their Master's tacit reassurance.

The souls they had collected, with the exception of a few, were by contrast terrified. Death gently pushed them into a sleep-like state, which they would remain in until the Reapers took them to realm of the dead.

After another cursory sweep with his expanded senses revealed that things were under control under water, Death began moving back up toward the surface, passing through the walls, the water and sunken glacial ice as easily as humans passed through air.

Things on the surface were just as hectic as things below had been. There were more Reapers working up here than there were below, but on the surface there were hundreds of people dying from hypothermia and the temperature of the water and the ambient air meant it only took a few minutes for them to succumb. The Reapers were having considerable trouble keeping up. The horses were also milling about the surface, helping corral already dead souls so their riders could collect them more easily or calling attention to souls who were having trouble leaving their bodies. Death spotted his own steed standing near the sinking ship, gently nudging the soul of a young man to its feet and whickering to get the attention of a nearby Reaper.

Death was just about to expand his aspect again when he felt a sudden, almost desperate shove from the minds of one of the Reapers. Solriss, he realized.

I'm so sorry to distract you, especially at a time like this, but he's being ridiculously stubborn and I think you're the only one who can convince him to leave, Solriss thought to him. Death was barely able to decipher the words, the Reaper was so frazzled, and when he did the message made no sense. At least until he sought out Solriss's location, a few hundred feet above and to the north of the sinking ship, and realized who was with him: Jack.

Oh, of all times! Death thought, quickly assuming a human form as he moved in Solriss's direction. When he reached the pair neither of them noticed him; Solriss was doing his best to convince the frost spirit to leave while Jack was hopping unconsciously from foot to foot as he stood on the tip of an iceberg, panicked eyes taking in the scene below him. Death considered it a stroke of luck none of the Reapers were really visible to Jack from here. Realizing just what his friends were at this moment would probably not have helped things.

"Jack," Death said softly, immediately drawing both pairs of eyes to him. "What are you doing here?"

"The… the humans," Jack stuttered, gesturing vaguely and startling visibly when a loud groan emanated from the doomed vessel. The frightened screams of the passengers still on the ship carried to them on the agitated Wind. Death and Solriss exchanged a look.

She won't hold together for much longer.

Jack, looking even more panicked now, swallowed thickly before continuing. "We… we have to help them, we can't just leave them like this, we can't just let them die."

Behind the frost spirit, Solriss grimaced slightly. Death fought back a wry smile. Oh, the irony.

"Jack, there is nothing you can do," Death said, taking a step toward the anxious spirit. Jack looked up at him, blue eyes wide, and shook his head vehemently. "I can… I don't know, I can make ice flows for them to climb on, or get the wind to stop blowing or… something!"

"You're a frost spirit, Jack. Your very presence chills the air around you. Most of the humans here are dying from hypothermia or exposure, and creating ice flows will only make the water colder," Death said gently, taking another few steps forward until he stood directly in front of Jack. The sprite had stopped shifting his weight at this point, but he was gripping his staff so hard Death was surprised it hadn't snapped under the strain. Barely noticeable tremors were running up and down the entire length of his body.

Death knelt in front of the boy, placing his hands on the child's shoulders, drawing Jack's eyes to his. Death allowed the smallest bit of his aspect free, using his bond with Jack to allow the winter spirit to feel it more keenly. Jack closed his eyes, exhaling shakily as his tumultuous emotions eased and his body relaxed as Death's aspect wound its way around and through him.

"Jack, there is nothing you can do," Death said, firm but again gentle, when Jack opened his eyes again. "I know it is upsetting to you, but there is no reason for you to feel guilty about this. It is simply the way things are."

Jack opened his mouth, but no sound made it past his lips. After a moment, he closed it again and hung his head. Heaving an inward sigh, Death stood and looked over at Solriss.

"Take him home," he ordered quietly, turning back toward the sinking ship.

When he heard Solriss approaching the frost spirit, Death made his way back down to the surface of the water. He began walking back toward the ship, aspect beginning to expand once again. By the time he'd reached the edge of the glow cast by the ship's failing lights, his human form was completely gone, black cloak billowing about him though the wind, as always, left him untouched.

A quiet whinny drew his gaze to his horse, who was walking toward him, gently nosing a tiny soul forward as he went; a girl, no more than nine years old. She walked haltingly, stumbling every few steps, breathing heavy with pain and rapid with fright. The pale steed nudged her one more time and she finally collapsed, chest heaving. Noticing a black boot before her, the child raised her head and a frightened gaze, framed by curls of red hair, met Death's. Death felt a sharp spike of fear from the girl, sensed the moment she realized just who she faced. But, to his surprise, she did not draw away. Allowing his consciousness to blend with hers, he learned why; the pain was growing quickly, becoming too intense for her to think of anything else. Her connection to her body had not been fully severed; she was still not dead, though there was nothing that could be done to keep her alive.

Death reached down and lifted the soul into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he found the few threads still binding her to her body and quickly severed them.

The moment the last connection was cut, the soul relaxed. Death glanced down just as the child looked up, guileless green eyes peering up into his face. A moment later she sighed again, burying her face in his robe.

"Where's mama?" she asked, voice muffled by Death's cloak.

Death reached up, running skeletal fingers through the girl's hair. "She will be joining you shortly."

Loud cracking sounds drew all gazes, Reaper and human, back to the ship. The lights flickered and failed at last when, with a sound like splitting rocks, the massive steamer broke in two. Screams rent the air as the stern of the ship went crashing back into the sea, sending up massive waves that swamped several lifeboats that had been too close to avoid them.

Death stroked the soul's hair again as she pressed herself closer to him, eyes screwed tightly shut as though that would block out the sounds.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8:

September 1912

Out of all the Moon's Guardians, Sanderson was the one Death tolerated the best.

Death could admit that that was in part true because the Sandman was so quiet; the other three possessed the ability to keep up a constant stream of inane chatter, even when alone (although Bunnymund would likely die of embarrassment if he learned anyone knew he often talked to his eggs as he painted them).

Sanderson was also more observant; his job was a bit more involved than those of the other Guardians and he didn't have helpers to assist him as Toothiana did. Death did not doubt that Sanderson understood his young charges far better than his fellows.

It was also interesting to note a few similarities in their powers, though Death was not certain the Sandman would appreciate the parallels should he learn of them. Humans often referred to death as "the final rest" or "eternal sleep". The process of dying, at least in the biological sense, was very much like falling asleep though the end result was a bit more permanent and, depending on the circumstances, could be considerably more painful. And happiness was rarely something Death provided.

He found himself musing idly on these things as he passed-literally- through the door of a small house in Twin Falls, Idaho, rivers of the Sandman's golden sand shining brightly in the night sky above.

One of the streams of sand was making its way into the house Death had entered; the glow was visible from the hallway even with the door closed, but Death paid it no mind. He could sense the child's soul, warm and bright, content in the dream-sand induced sleep, but that was not what concerned him tonight. He walked on to a door at the far end of the hall, which stood ajar. The sound of someone pacing over a carpeted floor was just barely audible.

Death paused, listening. The steps were unsteady and heavier than they should be. The man's thoughts were slowly becoming clearer to him despite the fact that he'd made no attempt to read them, a sure sign that the man did not have long.

Adam Coleman, age 34, was a fairly successful tax accountant who had recently been employed by an up-and-coming wealth management firm. He'd married his girlfriend of four years, Catherine Greene, at age 27. A son was born two years later and the family had moved into this house when the child was just over five months old.

It was around that time that a malignant tumor was discovered in the right-hand side of Adam's brain.

Various treatments had kept the cancer at bay, but the tumor had grown slowly and steadily and the location meant that surgical removal was not a viable option.

Adam had done his best to keep a brave face for his wife and his parents, for his child, but the symptoms had been worsening steadily for the past several months; dizzy spells, agonizing headaches and, most recently, occasional loss of vision.

And now… well, Death's presence spoke for itself.

Aside from all of this, though, Death could sense something else; the man, on some almost instinctual level, knew he was dying.

And he was very much afraid.

Oh, dear.

After using a small flux of power to ease the pain of the headache the man had been feeling as much as he could without actually killing him, Death once again assumed a human form. After a quick check to see that everything was in working order, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was met with the sight of a black-haired man sitting on a queen-sized bed, dressed in a slightly worn suit with the top three buttons of the shirt undone. His brown eyes were slightly glazed and his face was covered with a thin layer of sweat, undoubtedly the result of the headache he'd just suffered. When his gaze met Death's, it was still out of focus.

"You're the new doctor, I suppose?" Adam said, voice slightly hoarse and so very tired. Death could feel his newly acquired eyebrows climbing his forehead. He considered it a stroke of luck, though, that the man wasn't questioning the appearance of a stranger in his home.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Death asked.

"Hm? Oh, no, no, of course not! Please!" Adam said, waving vaguely at a chair resting in front of a small vanity mirror. Death walked over and took it with a small inclination of the head. Once he'd settled he took some time to observe the man.

"You've held on fairly well," he said after a few moments. Adam gave a smile that was more of a grimace.

"You don't sound as optimistic as any of the other doctors," he said. There was a definite tremor underlying his words now.

Death just gave a non-committal hum before replying, "It's gotten worse."

The man's eyes, sharper now, widened for a moment before he looked at the floor. "Yes. It's… the headaches are nearly unbearable now and they come a lot more often. It's probably going to get better in a while, I've had periods where the headaches get really bad."

Death found it difficult to tell who he was trying to convince in that last sentence.

"You've told no one," Death said after the silence persisted for a minute.

"No." The man's voice was definitely a little higher-pitched this time. "It'll get better… the treatments are so expensive, poor Cathy's had to take on an extra shift at the hospital to pay for it all and we always have to leave Johnathan with his grandparents because we can't afford a babysitter! If she knew things had gotten so bad, I don't… I don't want to think about how she'd feel!"

"She sounds like a strong-willed woman," Death said.

Despite obvious worry, Adam managed a smile. "Yeah. A man couldn't ask for better… she's always been so independent; she put herself through nursing school, drove her Papa up the wall when she was a teenager."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Death mused. "By the way you speak of her, I'm certain you can trust her to manage things on her own."

Adam looked at him strangely for a moment, then his eyes became distant again as he smiled wistfully. "Yes. Cathy's a wonderful woman, working so long even when… wait a minute. She's… she's still at the hospital, she took the evening shift for the next month! The door was locked! How did you get in here? Who are you?" The man was standing now, posture defensive, expression stern, but his eyes betrayed his alarm.

"Peace, Adam," Death said, one hand raised in a placating gesture. His voice was quiet, but there was power in it.

The shift in the atmosphere was palpable. Adam stared at the figure before him, like he was trying to see something that was just a little too far for him to see it clearly. Despite the disguise, Death could tell that the man was beginning to perceive his true nature; that fact was confirmed when all expression left Adam's face.

"I'm never getting better, am I?"

"No."

"You're going to kill me?"

Oh, for the love of…! "Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I do not actually kill people unless they are royally upsetting the natural balance. I simply reap a soul when it is their time to die and, if necessary, guide them on."

Adam stared at him for a moment, surprisingly less afraid now that he saw Death for what he was. The man sat down heavily at the foot of the bed, covering his face with his hands. Death, meanwhile, pulled free the hourglass pendant from his robe and tapped it lightly with a skeletal finger. It spun around its axis once, twice, before the red sand within it settled. There was very little left at the top; less than five minutes by Death's estimate.

"Couldn't you… wait, for a few years?" Adam's voice drew Death's attention back to him; the man still hadn't moved from his position on the bed.

Death, having read several physical signs and knowing exactly how the man was going to die, responded, "I doubt you'll want me to."

"But… my family… God, my son, my child, he'll grow up without a father! Couldn't you…?"

"As do thousands of other children," Death interrupted, voice calm and gentle as he could make it considering his words. "Upsetting? Yes, but unfortunately that is the way of things. I am sorry that I must take you so soon, Adam Coleman, but there is nothing I can do."

Death hid the hourglass before Adam gave him a brief, despairing look. The man quickly looked at the ground again.

"They will be able to manage without you," Death said. "Will they grieve? Yes, of course. Things will be hard for them for quite some time. But your wife, as you said, is strong-willed and independent, and I do not doubt she loves your son just as fiercely as you do and will do everything in her power to give him the best life she can. Eventually, they will learn to live with your passing and, one day, they will follow you."

Adam smiled wanly as Death stood, staring at something on the wall behind Death's shoulder. "Though hopefully that won't be for a while."

Death tilted his head in acknowledgement. Adam blinked up at him, smile becoming just a little bit wider.

Then he grinned. To his credit it was only a little shaky. "No scythe?"

Aie. "Only when I want to scare people."

Adam gave a bark of surprised laughter as he stood too. His smile was a bit steadier when he looked at the Reaper again, more thoughtfully now. "You know, you're not what I would have expected."

"Daddy?"

Both figures' heads turned toward the doorway, in which stood a small child dressed in flannel pajamas, rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand. Death was more than a little surprised to see the plump, glowing figure of the Sandman bobbing in the air behind him, smiling broadly while observing the scene with playful interest.

"Who're you talking to?" the child, Jonathan, asked. Adam cast a quick look sideways.

"They can't see me," Death said.

Adam gave the barest of nods, then opened his mouth before snapping it shut again, brow furrowing in confusion.

Ah, yes, I forgot he can't see Sanderson. "The Sandman is with him."

Adam blinked. "The Sandman is real?"

Johnathan smiled from ear to ear while Sandy grinned and hopped up and down in the air.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised," Adam mused, mostly to himself while his son began talking animatedly about his new glowing friend.

"Adam, I would recommend sending the child away."

Startled, Adam turned his head to see Death holding the hourglass pendant, the last few grains of sand slipping inexorably to the bottom.

"Wh…,"

"In a couple of minutes you're going to experience a fairly violent seizure; I would not think you'd want your son to witness that," Death said, tapping the hourglass.

The man was struck dumb for a moment. Then he turned back to the door and said, "Johnathan, why don't you and… and the Sandman go back to your room, huh? It's way past your bedtime, buddy, you shouldn't be up so late, Mama'll be upset when she gets home."

"Daddy, are you okay?"

Death was not surprised the child had picked up on his father's distress; the man's voice had been shaking so badly Death was surprised he'd been able to speak at all.

Adam took a deep, steadying breath and walked over to his son, going to his knees before him and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"I'm fine, Johnny-boy. Everything's gonna be just fine," Adam said, smiling at his son. "You be good for your Daddy now, all right? You go back to bed, go to sleep. And be good for your Mama, too, okay? You be strong and brave for her, okay, Johnny?"

Johnathan smiled, showing the gap between two front teeth. "Like St. George and the dragon, Daddy?"

Adam gave a laugh that was half a sob. "Yes, Johnathan, like St. George and the dragon."

Sandy was looking worried at this point, having noticed Adam's distress but seeing no cause for it. Death just hoped he'd have the sense to keep the child away from this room for a while; hopefully he'd send him back to sleep.

Adam had drawn his son into a hug. The man's eyes were closed and he ran one hand through the boy's short blonde hair.

"I love you, Johnathan," he whispered, the words sounding like they were being dragged from his chest. "I love you so, so much."

"Love you too, Daddy," Johnathan answered happily, giving his father a quick peck on the cheek.

Adam made a choked sound, kissing his son's forehead before setting him back down. "You go on to bed, now," he whispered. "Goodnight, goodnight…,"

"Don't let the ladybugs bite!" Johnathan laughed, obviously repeating something he'd said before.

Adam laughed again, a genuine, happy laugh as Johnathan ran down the hall back to his own bedroom with the Sandman floating close behind.

"Remember that when you're older, kiddo!" he called. Johnathan laughed loudly one more time before the sound of his door closing echoed down the hall. Adam turned back to Death just as the Reaper tucked the pendant back into his robe. If there was a tear or two on the man's cheeks, Death didn't comment on them.

"He's always said ladybugs," Adam said, still smiling, though now there was a wistful edge to it. "Cathy tried to get him to say 'bedbugs' for months, but he would always say 'ladybugs'. Eventually she gave up; she acts annoyed when he does it, but I think she thinks it's funny, too."

Death inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement as Adam quietly closed the door.

"You may wish to lie down," Death said. Adam looked puzzled for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes and he made his way over to the bed, settling himself comfortably near the middle.

"Thank you," the man said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"The clock on the wall. It wasn't moving when I was… when I was talking with Johnathan. Neither was my watch. They both stopped working when you touched that… that hourglass, and when you tapped it a second time they started going again. I'm not exactly sure what you did but… thank you."

Death nodded. "I can manipulate time, to a certain extent; I can't do it for very long if I don't wish to upset things, but in certain situations…,"

Adam smiled. Then his body went rigid and his eyes rolled back, limbs jerking spasmodically. Death reached forward and grabbed the soul before there could be more than a moment's pain.

A light frost was forming on the grass as Death made his way back out onto the street toward his horse. The reason for that became apparent when he heard a familiar laugh, and a moment later he saw Jack zipping about above the houses, playing with streams of golden sand that would turn into dolphins or horses when he touched them while the Sandman laughed silently in the middle of it all, directing a few threads of sand toward the frost sprite when Jack wasn't looking.

A low, warm pulse brought Death's attention to the soul in his hand. It had taken on the form of a glowing blue ball in its sleep-like state, and it sent another warm pulse at him when his senses gently prodded at it.

Happiness wasn't something he really dealt in. Peace, however, Death could do.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9:

If you were to ask Jack Frost, the Easter Bunny was a bit too full of himself.

Take today, for example. It was early March and Jack had been out in eastern New York taking care of a brewing storm front, doing what he could to temper the foul weather that was due in the American Northeast later in the week.

Honestly, Jack didn't even know what Bunny was expecting, coming this far north at this time of year. Of course there was going to be ice everywhere, and of course if you weren't paying attention you were going to step on a slippery patch of the stuff and fall.

The slide into someone's holly bush had just been a bonus. For Jack, anyway. And he couldn't help it if he'd laughed; Bunny's accent made his cursing so much funnier than anyone else Jack could think of, Valka being the only possible exception.

And of course the overgrown kangaroo blamed him for the fall, even though Jack had just happened to be flying over when it happened. Heck, Jack hadn't even caused this particular snowfall; there was such a thing as natural weather, for crying out loud!

So Jack was currently flying through a forest, weaving through the trees, giggling to himself as an angry Bunny sprinted after him.

"Frostbite, ya damned little pixie! Get back here an' I'll show you somethin' real funny!"

Jack only laughed harder as he sped up, pushing off of tree trunks to increase his momentum. When Bunny was angry, his accent became thicker, which Jack found absolutely hilarious.

He was still laughing when he ran full-tilt into something that had been moving very rapidly in the opposite direction. Then, physics being what it was, Jack was propelled backwards with a startled yell while whatever he'd run into went falling away from him.

Jack ended up landing at the roots of a tree, the air leaving his lungs in a rush that left his head spinning for a few moments. He screwed his eyes shut with a groan, one hand groping for the staff he'd dropped upon hitting the tree.

He found when it was dropped on his head.

"Ow!" Jack yelped, glaring up at a smirking Bunnymund as he snatched his staff up from where it had landed beside him.

"That'll teach ya to knock other people down, eh, Frostbite?"

"I didn't make you slip, Bunny. I…," Jack snapped, and promptly cut himself off when he saw what he had run into.

A horse. A young one; a filly by the looks of it, a beautiful buckskin tobiano. She had apparently just gotten to her feet and was studying him very intently. She must have liked what she saw, because a second later her ears pricked forward and she gave a few tiny bucks, snorting exuberantly.

"So Jack Frost didn't make a sheet of ice to trip somebody up an' make 'em fall into some prickly bushes? Why do I not find that believable?"

Oh, right. Jack had been so entranced with the horse he'd forgotten about the huge, uptight bunch of fuzz that was the Easter Bunny.

"There is such a thing as natural weather, Bunny. There is such a thing as natural ice. There is also such a thing as people not looking where they're going, which leads to these unfortunate little things called accidents," Jack said.

"You can drop it, Frost, I heard you laughing!" Bunny snarled, ears dropping so they were pinned against his head.

Nobody noticed the horse mirroring the action.

"Well, yeah. Don't tell me you haven't laughed when someone royally trips up," Jack said with a grin.

"Yes. No! Well…, but… ya shouldn' do stuff like that!"

Jack didn't know what was funnier, Bunny falling into a holly bush or trying to deny that he could be a bit of a jerk sometimes.

"Hypocrite!" Jack crowed, hopping onto his staff and balancing on the top. Bunny glared up at him.

"Why, ya bleedin', no-good little anklebiter…,"

That was when the horse decided to take a bite out of Bunny's tail.

Death was not entirely certain what to make of the sight of a young deathsteed doing her damndest to trample the Easter Bunny. Barely over a year old, she was much too small to actually accomplish the task, but she was certainly giving her all to it. Bunnymund, considerably bruised but not wanting to hurt the filly, was scrambling all over the clearing with a panicked look reminiscent of a rabbit being chased by blood-crazed wolves while Jack and an invisible Black Horseman and steed laughed uproariously at the base of a nearby tree.

He was not surprised that Famine had been the one to find the missing filly; her horse seemed to have an intrinsic drive to locate others of its kind. He was, however, a bit surprised that she hadn't stopped the young horse's attack; Famine would usually diffuse tense situations (unless War was involved).

Although this scene was admittedly a little hysterical.

I think the filly has become attached to your foal, Death's horse said between equine snickers of his own.

It would appear so, Death answered. It hadn't escaped his notice that if Bunnymund would start to head in Jack's direction, the filly would immediately begin to herd him away. If he did manage to get too close to the frost spirit, the little horse would pin her ears against her head, whinny as loudly as she could manage and attack with considerably greater vigor.

It was common knowledge among the Reapers that no one hurt a deathsteed's rider and got away with it. Considering the enmity between Bunnymund and Jack, it wasn't unlikely that Bunny had been yelling at the frost spirit and the filly had decided that the rabbit was threatening her newly discovered friend.

Do you think she'll bond with him? Choose him to ride her? Death's steed asked.

It will be a while yet before she's at that stage, Death said. But I suppose it is a possibility, yes. It was extremely rare that a deathsteed allowed someone who wasn't a Reaper to ride them, but it had happened before. And… well, Jack had proven unusual in more ways than just his not-fully-dead status. Death certainly didn't put bonding with a deathsteed outside the boy's realm of possibility.

Said deathsteed was currently driving and unaware Bunnymund toward a particularly thorny-looking hawthorn plant. Jack was still laughing senselessly on the ground while Famine and her steed egged the filly on. Death's horse snickered to himself while Death rubbed his forehead with a skeletal hand.

Some days, I swear I work with five-year-olds.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10:

There was no way Ants'nel was a spirit.

Jack had been thinking about the older (what did he call him? It wasn't like he knew what Ants'nel actually was), but he didn't really think that the older… being was a spirit.

First off, none of the other spirits ever saw him; heck, they'd never even heard of someone named Ants'nel, and everyone looked at Jack like he'd gone 'round the bend if he mentioned him. They'd never heard of Maras or Valka or Eia or Solriss or any of the others, either, and Bunny and Groundhog had started ribbing Jack about having a group of imaginary friends. The summer spirits outright teased him, declaring loudly and openly to anyone who would listen that Jack Frost was out of his mind.

Coyote and the White Owl Woman, on the other hand, though they said they did not know Ants'nel or the others, had begun acting a little strangely when Jack had described them. Heck, even the Leprechaun had looked a little nervous.

Now that Jack thought about it, all of the oldest spirits said they didn't know anyone named Ants'nel, and it certainly seemed like they were being honest when they said it, but when Jack began actually describing him they started acting funny. All of them looked uncertain; some even looked a little scared.

Needless to say, it had Jack intensely curious.

Of course, most would probably have suggested that Jack simply go to Ants'nel with his suspicions and talk about it, but… well, Jack didn't know how to even begin approaching the subject. Hey, Ants'nel, I was wondering why none of the other spirits know about you and why none of them can see you. You mind telling me why that is?

The sad thing was that was essentially the best conversation opener Jack could come up with, which was one reason Jack was somewhat relieved when he couldn't find Ants'nel. He'd flown all over the globe, twice, and there had been no sign of… anyone, actually. Well, he'd seen Vlad in Romania and had said a brief hello, but Jack knew that he didn't keep tabs on denizens of the spirit world.

So here Jack was, sitting in a lone tree near the edge of a small woodland in the Scottish Highlands. It was fairly dark out; despite the fact that there was a full moon a light fog had descended about an hour ago, shrouding a good portion of the light. Jack found he didn't really mind the partial darkness; he didn't particularly want to feel like he was being watched by the Moon right now.

Idly making patterns of frost in the grass with his staff, Jack found himself wondering of the Moon ever talked to Ants'nel. Ants'nel never really brought the spirit up, and whenever Jack mentioned MiM in his presence he would always seem to radiate a feeling of… annoyance, Jack supposed he'd call it. That in itself was odd; all the other spirits Jack had met held some level of respect for the Moon (despite that Pitch's was distinctly grudging). But when Ants'nel spoke of him, he always managed to make the Man in the Moon sound like a child trying to act like an adult, messing with things he didn't really understand. Valka was the same way; she'd scoff whenever MiM was mentioned, and her horse would be more inclined to bite things for several minutes afterward (Jack had learned that the hard way). Eia always looked like she'd sucked on a lemon and Maras would look like he'd actually considered rolling his eyes.

Aside from that, though, there was this aura around Ants'nel. Jack was rarely cognizant of it these days since he'd known him for so long, but Ants'nel had this feeling of age about him, and whenever it was pronounced enough for Jack to notice it the frost spirit got the distinct impression that Ants'nel was older than the Man in the Moon. Much older.

Come to think of it, he'd never asked Ants'nel how old he was, either.

And, as though summoned by his thoughts, Jack heard a familiar voice. Well, familiar enough that Jack recognized it as Ants'nel, but it had… changed. It… Jack wasn't sure how to describe it. It sounded like dried leaves blowing over a dirt road, or like sand falling through an hourglass.

"This is the sixth one in as many weeks. So many half-formed ghouls in so little time cannot be a coincidence, Solriss."

"I know that, but I can't pick up any magic traces, not even anything like necromancy."

"Have you spoken with the cait sith and the hounds?"

"Yes; none of them have seen or sensed anything suspicious, and poor old Shuck has been patrolling this area for nearly three weeks! I don't understand how someone could be raising corporeal ghouls right under our noses!"

Ghouls?! Jack felt a thrill of terror run down his spine. He'd heard tales of the creatures from spirits all over the world, undead creatures that fed on the spirits and occasionally the flesh of the living, and hoped that come Hell or high water he'd never meet one. To hear that Ants'nel had, apparently, dealt with six of the things with apparently no issue…

What was he?

Jack, shifting as quickly and quietly as he could, climbed higher in his tree, just to a point where he could see above the shifting fog. Four figures stood illuminated by the moonlight. Two were horses, Ants'nel's pale steed and Solriss's blood bay mare. One was Solriss. Jack couldn't see Ants'nel's face from here; he was wearing his usual hooded cloak, but now the hood had been drawn up over his head.

Then the hooded figure turned toward his horse, who was staring intently at his master, and Jack froze in shock. And terror.

Beneath the hood there was nothing but a skull, though the voice it spoke with, though changed, was undoubtedly Ants'nel's.

"I am aware, my friend," he said, lifting a hand- a skeletal hand- to stroke the pale steed's nose.

And then it clicked.

The Pale Horseman.

Ants'nel wasn't a spirit. Ants'nel was an Incarnation. No, more than that, he was a Primordial. The most powerful and quite probably the oldest Primordial.

Ants'nel was Death.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11:

The Green Fields of France

November 12, 1918

Well, how do you do, young Willie McBride?

Contrary to what most humans thought, Death did not spend much of his time in graveyards. Though he often found the silence of a cemetery peaceful, he was usually far too busy to actually take the time to linger anywhere.

Do you mind if I sit here, down by your graveside,

and rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun?

I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.

The morning was cool; a fine mist hung in the air, the scent of the poppies that grew on the peripheries of this improvised cemetery rising with it. The sun had just begun to peak over the horizon as Death wandered down the rows of freshly dug graves, silent as he read the names and ages of the fallen soldiers.

I see by your gravestone you were only 19

when you joined the great fallen in 1916.

I hope you died well, and I hope you died clean,

or young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they beat the drum slowly,

Did they play the fife lowly?

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?

Did the band play the Last Post in chorus?

Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?

Why the humans would feel the need to fight a war like this escaped Death's ken; they'd driven even War into the ground with this so-called 'Great War'.

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back in 1916
In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Enclosed then forever behind a glass pane
In an old photograph torn, battered, and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame?

A bitter laugh signaled the arrival of said Horseman behind him. Death turned to see War, mounted on her sweating, exhausted steed, standing on a rise close to the wire fence surrounding the cemetery.

"'War to end all wars' my ass," she muttered, staring at the ground as though in a trance. "Their treaty won't hold. I sense it already. The fires for another one are already brewing."

If Death could have sighed, he would have. He could sense it as well, mainly through his link to Famine.

The sun now shines o'er these green fields of France
There's a warm summer breeze that makes the red poppies dance
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard it's still no man's land
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned

The quiet sound of black hooves cantering over the road announced her coming. Her face was expressionless, though there was an unusual lack of sternness in her voice when she spoke to War.

"It will begin in Germany. They have not the money to both pay reparations for this war and feed their nation. Many will not survive the coming years."

Now young Willy McBride I can't help but wonder why
Do those who lie here know why did they die?
Did they believe when they answered the cause?
Did they really believe that this war would end wars?

The Reapers began arriving in a bedraggled train, all very slowly, all looking very much like ghouls and ghosts themselves. Solriss could barely hold his head up and his horse was all but leaning on Pestilence's mount as the White Horseman rode beside her. One by one, every single Reaper, with a nod to Death, settled themselves near a massive oak tree that grew at the edge of the graveyard, and were asleep within minutes.

Death himself stood near the trunk; many of the younger Reapers had gathered close to his feet as they slept. War stood at his left, essentially leaning on his shoulder. Famine stood at the Red Horseman's other side, Pestilence at Famine's left.

"Why must humans be so petty?" Pestilence muttered, observing the crowd of sleeping Reapers.

For the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and dying were all done in vain
For young Willy McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

"Go to sleep, my Red, beautiful Flame," Death murmured, wrapping a cloaked arm around the shoulders of the Red Horseman and pressing his equivalent of a light kiss to her forehead. War collapsed against him, murmuring quietly and senselessly, and Death lowered both her and himself until they rested against the trunk of the tree. War buried her face in Death's shoulder as Famine lay down beside them. Pestilence did the same, albeit slightly further away, and was asleep within seconds. War was already out like a light. Famine was still awake, observing her Red counterpart with a slight crease in her brow.

"What is wrong, Famine?" Death asked quietly, watching her. Famine blinked over at him, plainly anxious now.

"I've never seen her so close to tears before."

"Neither have I," Death mused, looking down at the slumbering War.

Famine tilted her head suddenly. "Do you ever cry?"

"The last time I did so was long before I separated the rest of you from my being."

Famine let things be at that, settling down against War's back and closing her eyes, burying her face in the crook of a black-clad arm. It didn't take long before she, too, was asleep.

Death remained awake for a time, observing the slumbering Reapers and Horsemen and expanding his powers so no other being aside from another Primordial would be able to sense them, and even then it would prove difficult for them; the last thing he needed to see right now was Mephistopheles.

Which was why he was somewhat surprised when he felt a rush of cold wind and, barely a second later, Jack dropped down from the lower branches of the tree and stood before him, shifting from foot to foot and not meeting Death's gaze for more than a second at a time before glancing away.

They hadn't spoken in nearly three years at this point, Jack having avoided Death and the Horsemen and Reapers ever since that night in the Scottish Highlands. It was understandable, Death knew, and he was slightly surprised Jack was approaching him so soon. And at such a… well, difficult moment on Death's part.

"Are… are they all… okay?" Jack asked hesitantly. He nudged a sleeping Reaper… Aditi… with the crook of his staff. She muttered a sleepy protest before darting out a hand and nearly managing to latch onto Jack's ankle. Jack managed to leap out of the way only just in time. Aditi instead grabbed onto a snoozing Ming and pulled the older Reaper into a one-armed hug, not waking up once the entire time. Ming's only reaction was a long-suffering sigh; she rolled over and returned the gesture without once opening her eyes.

"They'll be alright. We're all just worn-out at the moment," Death replied, unable to keep an undercurrent of amusement form his voice as he observed the two Reapers.

Jack's face fell at the reminder of the war that had just ended. Then it twisted into an expression of confusion. "You're not… happy about this?"

"Of course not. I find it ridiculous, the number of ways humans come up with to kill each other."

"But… but you're… you're Death."

"Has anybody ever always liked their duties?"

"What about V… War?"

In answer Death indicated the bedraggled Red Horseman, sleeping tucked into his side. Jack's face fell again. "Oh."

There was silence for several moments. Then Jack said, "It's just… I figured… jeez, for a while… until now, I guess, I thought you guys were the ones behind all of this. I mean, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, this seemed right up your alley."

"'Of the Apocalypse' is something of a misnomer," Death mused, sounding slightly irritated. "We help maintain a balance, that is all. 'Four Horsemen Who Keep the Wheels Turning' is distinctly less dramatic, though closer to the truth."

Jack managed a wan smile for a moment before returning his gaze to the ground.

"Why did you lie to me?" He asked quietly. "About… who you were? Your name?"

"When I first found you, you were alone and terrified out of your mind," Death responded. "How would you have reacted if I'd walked up to you looking like this, or told you that I was the Incarnation of Death? And later, what do you think the spring spirits would have done, had they discovered your connection to me? They already hate you for being what you are; I did not wish to give them, or any other spirits, further reason to push you away."

"But couldn't you have at least told me your real name?"

"Technically, I did. Do you know what Ants'nel means?"

Jack paused, thinking. "No."

"It is Armenian for 'to cross over' or 'to pass on'. Valka is the Czech word for war. Maras is a Lithuanian word that translates to 'a deadly epidemic', and Eia is a play on the Chinese word for hunger."

Jack's jaw dropped. "What? So… wow, you technically didn't lie about your names."

Death nodded.

"How… how was I supposed to figure that out? Armenian? Come on!"

"You're two hundred years old; haven't you learned any other languages besides English?"

Jack blushed, looking at the ground again. "Fair enough."

Silence again. Then, quietly, so quietly Death barely heard it, "Can… can I join you?"

Oh, no. "Summer sprites again?"

"Yeah."

In response, Death unfolded his free arm from his side. Smiling slightly, Jack leaped over and lay down, curling into Death's side and laying his head on his chest, closing his eyes.

"Thanks, Dad," the frost spirit murmured, burying his face in Death's robe.

If he could have blinked, Death would have.

Did they beat the drum slowly,

did they play the fife lowly?

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?

Did the band play the Last Post in chorus?

Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?

Chapter Text

Chapter 12:

November 1970

If any of the spirits had been inclined to pay attention, they may have been concerned at the fact that Jack Frost seemed to have fallen off the face of the world. While the winter spirit had always been a loner, it was rare anyone saw him at all these days. Even during the colder months when he was usually out and about, whirling about with the Wind and whipping up snowstorms, bringing enough snow with him for sledding and snowball fights and all those other fun things children love to do in the wintertime.

The summer sprites payed no attention, nor did the rest of the seasonals.

Bunnymund's only response, had anyone asked him, would likely have been something along the lines of "Good riddance."

The Sandman, upon noticing the unusual absence of his occasional playmate, became slightly concerned, but of course he was unable to say anything about it.

Toothiana, being wound up as she was, did not notice at all.

North thought it strange that Jack Frost was not at his usual refuge at Burgess when Christmas came around.

Pitch Black couldn't really care less.

Coyote, Raven, the White Owl Woman and the elder spirits, if anyone had bothered to ask them, suspected they knew what Jack Frost was doing, and they were a little puzzled and slightly concerned. If what they suspected had indeed come to pass, then it would be the first time anything like this had ever happened. Death, after all, was not known for associating with the Moon's spirits, or really any class of spirit that wasn't ghostly in nature.

However, if someone had decided to take the young frost sprite under their wing, well… there was certainly no one more reliable, and they were happy that Jack had perhaps, at last, discovered his family.

As far as Jack was concerned, Death was not a bad parent. Not at all, actually. He was always willing to listen when Jack wanted to talk about something, would provide quiet support and a shoulder to cry on when necessary and always seemed to know when Jack needed a confidence boost.

He also didn't make a bad pillow.

He also wasn't worried about being frank when asked difficult questions.

"Why do they all hate me?" Jack muttered quietly, pressing his face closer to Death's chest and leaning into the gentle carding of skeletal fingers through his hair.

"Because you're different," Death answered simply. "And for most beings, different is frightening, something to be changed or avoided."

"Why?"

"To be honest, I cannot fathom it," Death said. "To me, any difference that does not cause harm is refreshing, something interesting and new and potentially helpful."

Jack twisted in Death's embrace to look up at him. "You think I'm helpful?"

"Yes. You bring joy and a chance for renewal, do you not?"

Jack's face twisted in confusion. "The summer spirits always say that the only thing winter brings is cold and death… No offense," he added quickly. Death merely chuckled and resumed his stroking of the child's hair.

"In ancient times, winter was considered the season of rest and reflection, a time to look back on the old year and consider what could be done better in the new. It was also a time to consider fond memory and for peaceful rest before the work would begin again in spring, a respite for the Earth; a sort of incubation period, if you will. It was a season of death and endings, yes, but also the beginning of rebirth and a crucial part of the annual cycle."

Jack considered Death's words quietly for a few moments.

"You are important, Jack, and have just as much right to light and life as the summer spirits and all other beings do. Whatever else may come, never doubt that."

Jack went utterly still then, looking up at Death with wide, shining blue eyes. Barely a second later he buried his face in Death's chest, hands grasping the black fabric of his robe.

"Thank you."

If Jack's voice was a little hoarse, Death didn't comment on it. Instead, feeling the child's trembling, Death began to sing as he once had when Jack would come to him after a particularly bad nightmare.

"Once upon a time, many years ago,

An archer lived in the woods all alone.

No friends had he but the birds in the sky

The creatures of wood and the wind's gentle sigh.

He had the stars in the dark of night,

The archer who lived outside world's sight.

Until one day it came to pass

A fair maid came riding up the old forest path.

Fair she was, and gentle too,

But this maid came with a trouble or two…"

Jack was asleep before then, a small smile etched on his tear-stained face.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13:

Death decided he really needed to stop being surprised whenever Jack Frost latched onto him.

"Good evening, Jack," he said after Jack's exuberant "Hi, Death!"

"Are you riding with us, Jack?" Famine asked from where she was feeding her horse a sugar cube.

"Yup!" Jack said as he relinquished his hold on Death. "I can't let Mei down, can I?"

In response to that an indignant whinny sounded from somewhere amid the throng of Reapers and horses, much to the amusement of all present. An equally indignant mare, already saddled, came trotting over to the frost spirit, nosing his shoulder as though demanding if that had ever been a question.

Death laughed. The little filly that had "saved" Jack from Bunny all those years ago had grown into a fine deathsteed and had bonded with Jack beautifully.

"I know, girl, I know! I would never desert you, beautiful girl!" Jack laughed, stroking his horse's neck and moving in for an equine hug. Mollified, Mei settled for nosing the hood of Jack's sweater.

Death's horse whickered quietly as his master mounted, War trotting immediately over to his side. Noticing that Death had mounted, all the gathered Reapers and Horsemen (and frost spirit) proceeded to mount their own steeds. Jack immediately guided Mei between Death and Famine, practically jumping in his saddle. Mei was also prancing excitedly in place.

At least she was until a boomerang whistled barely an inch past Jack's head, causing the frost spirit to duck in alarm and all heads to simultaneously swivel back in the direction the boomerang had come from.

"Frost! Don't ya listen when somebody's talkin' to ya!"

Of course no one was really surprised when the returning boomerang was caught by a very irritated Bunnymund, who had been standing in the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

"Been a long time, Frost. Winter of '68, I believe. Easter Sunday, wasn't it?" Bunny said, completely oblivious to the deadly glares he was getting from the vast majority of the Reapers (not to mention the highly ticked off Red and Pale steeds).

"Bunny," Jack said, lifting his reins and turning Mei about with a tap of the heel to her side. He grinned at the way Bunny's eyes widened in alarm when he recognized the horse. "You're not still mad about that, are you?"

Bunny's eyes immediately narrowed again. "Yes." Then his posture relaxed, and he returned his attention to the boomerang in his paw. "But this is about something else. Fellas."

A pause.

Nothing happened.

Puzzled, Jack turned around.

And found himself staring at Death and his horse keeping an eye on a pair of yetis in the alley behind him, shuddering where they stood (if Death had had a face at the moment, Jack got the distinct impression he would have been smirking). Then Jack noticed that one of the creatures was holding a burlap sack and whipped Mei back around to face the Easter Bunny, who was staring at the yetis with his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Fellas, what is wrong with you! Grab 'im!" he said, gesturing at Jack.

"Bunny, what is this about?" Jack asked lowly, narrowing his eyes. Mei snorted and pawed furiously at the ground, pulling against her bit just slightly. Many of the Reapers steeds took up the cue and mirrored her agitation. The yetis, unable to see them but sensing the shift in the atmosphere, shrank further back into the alley, babbling quietly and worriedly between themselves and to Bunny.

"Fellas, he's just a frost spirit! I know the horse is a bit of a surprise, but you guys are tall enough to yank him off!"

At this War's steed raised his head, snorting furiously and champing at his bit, his rider having to hold him back as he moved to take a step toward the already frightened yetis.

Jack smiled grimly. "I don't think you'll want to do that," he said as War laid a hand on her horse's neck and cooed softly to him, calming him down just marginally. "Now what do you want, Bunny?"

Bunny glared up at Jack, but the frost sprite didn't miss the shudder that ran through his fur as a few of the Reapers guided their steeds to close about him just a step or two; Jack could also see Pestilence toying with the string of his bow.

"North wants to talk to ya. Up at the Pole," Bunny answered.

Jack could feel his eyebrows climbing his forehead. "North? What for?"

"Nothin' important."

"Oh, really? When North's never asked you up there before?" Famine mused idly, toying with her horse's mane.

"Oh. Then I guess I don't really have to go," Jack said, turning Mei and trotting forward so she stood beside Death's horse again. War and several Reapers snickered as Bunny's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Frost, wait! Ya barmy little sprite, the Moon's chosen you to be a Guardian, okay?" Bunny shouted after him.

Jack froze, as did his horse.

"I thought that might be the case," Death said, half to himself as he turned his horse to face Jack and his steed. Jack looked at him questioningly, biting his lip, eyes shining. Death moved his steed forward and laid a skeletal hand gently on Jack's shoulder, gaze meeting Jack's bright blue eyes.

"You need not go if you do not desire it, Jack," Death said gently. "If you choose to, however, I will understand."

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. "How dare they? How dare he?" the frost sprite whispered.

Behind him, Bunny stiffened. "What did you say, Frost?"

"I said how dare you!" Jack spat, wheeling Mei about so quickly she half-reared to achieve the maneuver. "How dare you, all of you, after all this time, think that you can just waltz in, drag me over to your little hideout up at the Pole and dictate my life? After three hundred years of ignoring me? Of thinking me little more than an annoyance at best, without even bothering to talk to me once in a while? I don't think so!"

Bunny's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Listen here now, ya uppity little sprite…,"

"No, you listen! I am not, nor will I ever be, a Guardian! I don't like you, Bunny, and my relationship with everybody else on your team is lukewarm at best. I'm not interested in joining a bunch of spirits who couldn't really give less of a damn about me. Good night, Bunny!" Jack snapped.

Taking that as his cue, Death spurred his horse into the sky with a mighty whinny, the Wind whipping furiously about them. The Four Horsemen and Jack followed, the rest of the Reapers close on their heels, whooping and laughing with the joy of the ride.

Death's aspect expanded, flowing outwards until it enveloped all of them in its mighty cloak. Ride! Ride, Horsemen! It's the Wild Ride!

The Four Horsemen took the lead, Jack sticking close to Death's side as their surroundings and the stars above them blurred, as they galloped higher and higher into the sky, moving further and further away from Burgess. The frost spirit gasped, then laughed as their flight finally leveled off high above the Earth. The ground and the clouds whipped away beneath them in a blur, the beautiful light of the Aurora Borealis and the setting sun shining above them as they galloped on.

Jack laughed again, Mei whinnying in excitement as her rider leaned back to catch the wind on his face. Death's steed let out another whinny, the other steeds answering him in kind; War's steed almost seemed to roar in his exuberance.

Ride! It's the Wild Ride!

Jack laughed again, glancing over at Death as the Pale Horseman allowed more rein to slide through his hands and his steed lengthened his stride; Mei leaped forward to keep up. Death laughed, urging his horse onward. Mei whinnied in frustration as they continued to pull ahead, throwing her neck forward and lunging on. Jack leaned forward over his friend's neck, giving her her head.

This was probably the best moment of his immortal life.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14:

It was a while into their ride that Jack and the others encountered the Guardians again.

"Hey, isn't that the Tooth Palace below us?" Jack called to Death as their steeds cantered through the sky.

"It is indeed," Death answered. After a quick glance down, he said, "And it looks like the Guardians are in a bit of trouble down there."

"What? Really? Seriously?" These and similar comments ran through the ranks of the Reapers. Death, no doubt sensing everyone's curiosity, laughed and began guiding his steed downward to follow North's sleigh. War rode right next to him, undoubtedly eager to see how the conflict would turn out.

The second they came level with North's sleigh, Bunny did a double-take upon seeing Jack riding a flying horse.

"Frost?! What in the blazes are you…," Bunny started.

"Duck!" Jack yelled, doing the same himself as what appeared to be a horse went charging past him, chasing several miniature tooth fairies. The second it came into contact with one of the Reapers, Ming, it exploded in a cloud of black sand, leaving Ming and her horse spitting and cursing rather inventively in their respective languages.

"Not powerfully bound, are they?" Famine mused while Bunny and North exclaimed in shock and the Sandman conjured up a sand umbrella to shield himself.

Jack, meanwhile, quickly stood up in his stirrups and snatched something out of the air. Sitting back down, he opened his palm to reveal a small, shivering tooth fairy.

"Hey, little Baby Tooth. Are you okay?" Jack asked softly.

The fairy nodded and smiled weakly. Jack smiled back and tucked the creature into the pocket of his blue hoodie, where she would be safe from the creatures attacking her fellows.

Jack, the Horsemen and Reapers followed the Guardians into the Tooth Palace; many of the black horses, upon sensing the approaching tide of Reapers, immediately broke off their attack of the fairies and began galloping madly toward any darkened patch they could reach. War and her steed chased several of them, War whooping exuberantly while her stallion nipped at the creatures' flanks, making them whinny in sheer terror. Famine giggled at their antics, while Death and Pestilence both gave the impression of wanting to roll their eyes.

They all gave a collective wince when North's sleigh crash landed on one of the lower levels of the palace, but their attention was immediately drawn away from the three disgruntled figures in the sleigh to the frantic fairy on the upper terrace.

"Tooth! Are you alright?" North called as Jack brought Mei to land on a balcony just behind and below the one Toothiana was on, beside Death and Famine.

"They… they took my fairies, and the teeth, all of them! Everything is gone!" Tooth cried as her fellows leaped out of the sleigh to her side. "Everything!"

At this despairing cry there was a fluttering in Jack's pocket. The little tooth fairy Jack had rescued earlier chirped happily as she whizzed out of his pocket, flying quickly over to Tooth.

Tooth's face lit up upon spotting the little fairy, and she reached out to cup it in her hands. "Oh, thank goodness! One of you is alright!"

"I have to say, this is very, very exciting. The Big Four, all in one place. I'm a little star-struck."

"Oh, wonderful. Tall, dark and creepy again," Solriss muttered as the shadowy form of Pitch Black materialized on a balcony above the Guardians. Tooth immediately began shouting at him while the Reapers snickered at Solriss's comment.

"I'm going to take a leap here and say he calls those new creatures of his…," War began.

"Nightmares!" Jack and Aditi said together.

"Ridiculously unoriginal," Death said, once again giving the impression of rolling eyes without actually having eyes to roll. Jack snickered.

"Wait a minute. Is that Jack Frost?"

Jack's head immediately snapped up, but Pitch's voice was echoing all over the palace. It was impossible to determine where it was coming from. Mei snorted, pawing at the ground.

"And on such a lovely steed, too. Since when are you all so chummy?"

"We're not," Jack muttered, looking warily around him.

"Oh, good." The voice was no longer echoing, and now was coming from behind them. Jack whipped Mei around to face Pitch, who was lounging on a pillar just opposite them and looking utterly bored.

"A neutral party. Then I'm going to ignore you," he said, beginning to turn away.

Jack could hear the smirk in Pitch's voice when he said, "But, you must be used to that by now."

"Ditto," Jack chirped.

The Reapers and Horsemen cackled. Death's steed whinnied his approval of the comeback while War's did his utmost to defy his rider's wishes and bite off the Boogeyman's arm. Jack grinned innocently when Pitch turned to glare at him.

"Want some ice on that burn?" Jack asked, again managing to sound like an inquiring child.

The Reapers cracked up again while Sandy laughed silently along. Bunny let out a single "HA!" before quickly covering his mouth with his paw while North gave him an odd look.

"I can see why no one acknowledges you now, Frost. You're nothing but an annoying little winter sprite, aren't you?" Pitch said, grinning like a shark now.

"Name-calling. You must have really struck a nerve," Death stage-whispered to Jack while Bunny, infuriated by that last dig of Pitch's, went to attack the Boogeyman. Jack giggled into his hand while the Reapers snickered.

Jack jumped when suddenly Pitch reappeared directly in front of Mei's nose, eyes focused on the horse.

"Such a beautiful girl," he smiled again, though less predatory now. Mei pinned her ears, throwing up her head in a clear threat. Jack, upon glancing up, realized that Pitch once again had the Guardians chasing after an echoing voice. For a moment Jack considered calling out to them for help.

Then Death shifted in his saddle just the slightest bit, cuing his horse to move ever-so-slightly-closer to Pitch, and Jack decided against it.

"Careful, she bites," Jack grinned while Mei attempted to do just that.

"I can see that," Pitch said dryly, moving deftly out of the way. "Where on Earth did you get a spirit horse?"

"We just sort of… ran into each other one day," Jack grinned.

"Do NOT start punning, I get enough of that from Solriss and Famine!" Death groaned while aforementioned pair cackled.

Pitch rolled his eyes, then shouted in alarm when a black, feathered bird whizzed past his head.

"Raven!" Jack cried in delight when said spirit came to light on his shoulder. "Where have you been? I haven't heard from you in nearly a decade, you trickster you!"

Raven's face, however, was grave. "The Necromancer has struck again."

The smile fell from Jack's face. The Reapers went rigid, and as one all heads turned toward Death.

"The Necromancer? What nonsense are you on about now, bird?" Pitch snapped, not noticing the way Jack and Raven were both staring at something that was apparently not there.

"Ming, go with Jack back to Burgess. Raven, lead me to where you found the ghouls. War, Famine, Pestilence, find the other Elder Spirits. Tell them to be on their guard," Death dealt out orders in rapid succession.

"But…," Jack said, then remembered they had an audience. He bit his lip when Pitch looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Loneliness getting to you, Frost?" Pitch sneered once he'd recovered.

Jack glared. "You wish," he spat, turning Mei about to follow the departing Reapers as Raven launched himself into the sky to lead Death. "I have to go. Good-bye, Pitch."

Pitch grinned again as he watched the frost spirit dig his heels into his horse's side. The horse leaped into the sky with a whinny, and Pitch's grin grew into a smile as he watched the frost spirit get smaller and smaller against the darkening sky.

"Until next we meet, then. I'll see you soon, Jack Frost."

Neither Pitch nor Jack noticed the tiny little streak of green zipping off after the disappearing frost spirit.

Death sensed it, but he got the distinct impression she would be needed in the days ahead.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15:

Death dispatched the last of the ghouls with a gentle touch to the forehead; the thing fell with a low moan, almost sounding pleased as its body disintegrated to dust in the wind. Whenever Death wished it, he would expand and intensify his aspect so that anything that touched him died instantly, as was evidenced by the ring of dead grass about his feet. Raven was wisely keeping his distance, perched in a nearby olive tree.

The two were currently near Milan, Italy, where this latest batch of ghouls had been sighted.

Death drew his aspect back into himself, enough that he was able to assume a more human appearance, and looked to Raven. "There were no more ghouls aside from those nine, correct?"

Raven shook his head. "Those were all I saw."

"The necromancer must be close by, then. Those bodies were obscenely fresh, almost as if…,"

Death paused, examining the magical signatures close by. Then his lips drew back in a snarl.

"A summoning ritual. An incomplete summoning ritual, to summon and bind me!"

"You?!" Raven asked, wings fluttering in alarm. "Who would… Who in all the realms would be stupid enough to even attempt such a thing?"

"Or desperate enough," came a quiet voice from behind the two. Death turned to face the new figure in surprise.

"Hel? What are you doing in the Living World?" Death asked. "Are you trying to contact your father again? I told you that should you need assistance…,"

"It's not that," Hel responded quickly, meeting Death's eyes. To his alarm, her one good eye was shining with tears.

"Hel, dear one, what is wrong? Why are you raising…?"

"I'm sorry," the Norse Goddess whispered, raising her arms, one full, one skeletal, into the air.

"Konungur skugga, ég svara símtali, og binda á þennan stað anda dauðans. Hann skal ekki vera út af einhverju spara þér, ó Drottinn forn helvíti!"

Death could do nothing as manacles blacker than a moonless night fastened around his wrists; he shouted in pain as he felt his aspect bound as thin black chains looped themselves multiple times around his body and neck, fastening him to the place where he stood.

Panting, feeling the awful weight of the chains that bound him, Death raised his head to look at Hel, who was now crying freely, all but sobbing into her hands.

"You bound me... not in your name," Death wheezed as he struggled to raise himself to his full height.

"No being, not even a Ruler of the Dead, would be able to create chains like this. You bound me in the name of the Lord of Ancient Hell; what has my brother done, Hela?"

"I'm sorry," Hel sobbed. "I tried to warn you; the ghouls, I've been letting them free for centuries, small numbers at a time, to try to get you to turn your attention to Hell. It's Mephistopheles, he's… he…,"

Death, despite the fact that he was in the Living World, felt an awful chill run down his spine. "What has he done, Hel?"

"He's lost his mind. He's planning the Apocalypse; that's why he made those chains, why he made me bind you… He's ready to make his move."

Jack nearly hit his head on the ceiling of his cave home when Baby Tooth came whizzing in, chirping exuberantly.

"Baby Tooth! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed as the little fairy landed in his outstretched palm, rubbing her forehead against the pad of his thumb. After this brief greeting, she fluttered up above his hands a few inches and began gesturing madly toward the cave entrance and making other wild enunciations with her hands.

"Wait, wait, wait, slow down. You want me to… leave with you?"

A nod. More gestures.

"You want me to leave with you and… help the Guardians? Are you nuts? Bunny hates me, and after the thing at the Tooth Palace, I don't think the others will be too kindly disposed toward me either!"

The little tooth fairy frowned at him, crossing her arms.

Jack sighed. He was bored here, but he hadn't heard from Ming or the others about the situation with the ghouls.

Then a thought occurred to him. The Guardians didn't know what was going on with the ghouls; if they ran into a set, they'd need someone who would be able to summon a Reaper or preferably Death to deal with the problem.

"Fine. Lead on, Baby Tooth."

The Guardians, as it turned out, were busy collecting children's teeth in the little tooth fairy's stead. Jack had to admit it was kind of fun competing with Bunny (although North definitely won with his giant bag).

The only real moment of contention had occurred when Jamie, the little boy from Burgess Jack had taken notice of a few days ago, had acknowledged everyone except Jack. The frost spirit was used to it by now, but it still hurt when humans (the living variety; he was known to all the ghosts) didn't acknowledge him in the slightest.

Which was why Jack had quickly excused himself and gone in search of Death.

And the entity was nowhere to be found; Jack couldn't even sense him across the strange bond the two of them shared, which meant he was either in the Realm of the Dead or suppressing his aspect while he hunted for ghouls.

So Jack had flown to his next closest refuge; Tarrytown, otherwise known as Sleepy Hollow, in search of an old friend.

Jack was sitting in a tree in the Western Woods when the sound of galloping hooves had him looking up just in time to see a large black stallion with otherworldly red eyes go leaping over a log. His rider was crouched over his neck, dressed in black and silver armor with a thin white scar encircling the whole of his neck.

"Klaus!" Jack called as the pair landed. The Horseman's head lifted and he caught sight of Jack, then spurred his horse toward the frost spirit with a loud war cry. Jack smiled as he drifted to the ground while the pair galloped over, Daredevil skidding to a stop barely two feet from Jack's face. Prancing and snorting happily, the stallion pressed his nose into Jack's upraised palm.

"Hi, Daredevil! Sorry, I didn't bring any apples or carrots for you this time!" Jack said with a weak laugh.

"Jack, was machst du hier?" the Horseman asked.

"Ich fühlte mich einsam und ich konnte nicht Tod finden," Jack responded, still stroking Daredevil's nose.

Klaus frowned. "That is… troubling," the ghost said, switching to heavily accented English. "He usually comes when you call, yes?"

"Or flares his aspect so I can find him," Jack responded. "He was out hunting ghouls last I heard, though, so he could be staying low-profile to try and catch the Necromancer."

"Hmm," Klaus responded, but he didn't look entirely convinced. "What brings you to the Hollow, Jack Frost?"

Jack sighed, turning away from Daredevil and sitting down among the roots of a large, twisted trunk. "I was working with the Guardians…,"

"Why in all the Living Realm would you do that?"

"They need all the help they can get," Jack said with a small grin. Klaus gave a predatory smile that showed off his sharpened teeth and sent a small shiver down Jack's spine.

"Anyway, you know the trouble they've been having with Pitch Black? Well, Pitch kidnapped Tooth's fairies and I went out to help them collect children's teeth. North accidentally woke up one of the kids… Jamie, someone I actually know… and, well… you know… he couldn't see me."

Klaus made a sympathetic sound; as one of North America's most powerful ghosts, he was visible to any human that crossed paths with him. He more often than not found it annoying, but he understood that it was Jack's long-held wish to be noticed by someone other than the Horsemen, ghosts and Reapers.

A loud yell from up in the sky drew the attention of both spirits; they were met with the sight of North's sleigh in the process of being surrounded by Pitch's Nightmares.

At that same moment Baby Tooth came streaking out of the sky toward Jack, twittering happily, then shrieking in alarm when she caught sight of Klaus and Daredevil.

"It's okay, Baby Tooth! It's okay! They're friends!" Jack shouted up to her. Klaus rolled his eyes and Daredevil snorted in amusement.

Thus reassured, Baby Tooth flew down right into Jack's face and began tugging at his hoodie, trying to get him up into the air, all the while chirping madly.

"You guys followed me? Why?" Jack asked in disbelief. Baby Tooth glared at him, crossing her arms and chirping furiously.

"I'm serious! You guys have never paid me any mind before! Why start now?"

"Warum, tatsächlich?" Klaus muttered. Baby Tooth probably didn't understand German, but she must have gotten the gist of it because she turned to the (formerly) Headless Horseman and chirped angrily. Klaus grinned at her, baring his sharpened teeth again and meaningfully laying his hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip.

"All right, knock it off you two! I'll go help them, Baby Tooth, but not because I want to join them!"

Chapter Text

Interlude: Halloween 2016

November 2, 1950

Death was fairly certain no one but La Muerte had ever witnessed Xibalba in such a state. The Death God had practically melted into a puddle of tar under his wife's touch, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a happy sigh as his wife laughed and returned his hug rather playfully.

"Did those two make up after their latest little family feud?"

Death chuckled. "No need to sound so disappointed, War."

Next to him on the roof of a relatively nice bar, War grumbled. Pestilence, surprisingly enough, had volunteered for duty with Famine tonight, supervising the reveling spirits in the northern hemisphere. As it was, several Reapers had dispersed themselves among the crowd of ghosts dancing across the hilltop in the town graveyard to make certain no one got a little too into the spirit of things and harmed the humans celebrating the Day of the Dead.

"Are you going to go down and dance soon?"

"Later; I prefer observing, for the most part," Death answered.

"You're always observing! Come on, live a little," War teased.

"Rather impossible, wouldn't you say?"

"My Lord Death," La Muerte greeted with a bow of the head as she and a still very much smitten-looking Xibalba made their way over. "Will you not join us in the fiestas tonight?"

"Perhaps in a few minutes, my Lady," Death responded with a slighter nod of his head.

"Make that a few hours," War muttered.

"Where has your little one gone? He was dancing with the little spirits not long ago," La Muerte wondered aloud, surveying the crowd of laughing spirits dancing in the graveyard.

Next to her, Xibalba snorted. "Probably to find something sweet, knowing that kid."

"A child after your own heart, no?" La Muerte said with a cocked eyebrow in her husband's direction while War snickered behind Death.

"Hi, guys!"

"Speak of the devil! Hi, Jacky-boy!" Xibalba laughed as Jack dropped out of the sky between La Muerte and Death, flecks of cinnamon sugar still visible on his lips.

"You've been into the churros again, haven't you?" Death asked while La Muerte chuckled and wiped the sugar off of Jack's beaming face with her thumb.

"What's wrong with that?" Jack asked defensively.

Death shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. I just figured you'd go for the sugar skulls first."

Jack's eyes immediately brightened while Xibalba laughed at his expression.

"Hey, Jack, would you like to go riding later? There's this beautiful snowy mountain peak that's really windy during the night, it seems like just the place for you," Xibalba said.

"Si, it is a wonderful place," La Muerte said, smiling as she took her husband's hand.

"Maybe a bit later, okay, Uncle Xibalba? Dad, will you come dance with me?"

War snickered while La Muerte and Xibalba grinned at Death.

"Dad, come on, it's Halloween week! This is, like, your time of the year! Come on!" Jack said, eyes pleading.

Death sighed inwardly. "If you insist," he said, taking Jack's outstretched hand as he called goodbye to Xibalba and La Muerte and allowing the child to lead him toward the other reveling spirits. "Have I taught you the Tlacolorerosis yet?"

"No. What is that?" Jack asked as they reached the edge of the crowd of laughing spirits, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"It is a traditional Mexican dance, often performed on the Day of the Dead. The spirits over by that large headstone are actually right in the middle of it. Do you see how they use those whips to accentuate the rhythm of the music? That is meant to represent the crackling of fire in the bushes during the cleaning of the corn patch. Now, to begin, you'll want to stand like this…,"

Chapter Text

Chapter 16:

Jack stared out the window at the snow whipping around the North Pole, mindful of the tightness in his chest, the heaviness in his stomach as the Guardians mourned their fallen comrade.

Sandy wasn't dead; if there was one thing Jack knew, his father always, always collected the Spirits and the Gods when their time came.

But Death had never appeared once during the entire battle with Pitch. Neither had any of the other Horsemen, nor had any of the Reapers.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Tuning out the ringing of the elves' bells as best he could, Jack turned his attention inward. He closed his eyes, searching for the strange tie that connected him to Death.

Nothing. Not even the faintest pull.

A bang at the window had Jack jerking out of his reverie with a start, nearly falling off the sill.

Glancing at the Guardians to make sure they hadn't heard anything, Jack quickly turned back to the window and looked down.

He could feel his eyes widening when he beheld the sight of the Red Horseman and her steed peering up at him; apparently War had thrown a snowball to get his attention.

When War gestured for him to come down, Jack dared another glance over his shoulder before opening the window and slipping outside. Shutting the window as quietly as he could, Jack glided down and landed gently in the snow just as War dismounted.

"What's going on?" Jack asked before War could even open her mouth. "I tried to contact Death earlier and I couldn't sense him! Not at all! I can always sense him! I mean, unless he's in the Realm of the Dead, but I don't think…"

War held up a hand and Jack immediately stopped talking.

"Death is missing," she said, face uncharacteristically grim. Jack felt for a second that his jaw had come unhinged with how low his mouth dropped.

"But… but… what? How can Death go missing?"

"He does on occasion cloak himself from us when he wants to be left alone, but he always responds to urgent calls from us. The fact that he hasn't, to you or any of us, means he is unable to."

"But how is that possible? What could possibly stop Death?" Jack asked, gripping his staff closer to him, feeling his toes curl in the snow.

"There are only two beings capable of both trapping Death and keeping us from communicating with him."

"Who?"

"A more accurate question would probably be what. Death is one of three beings the rest of us refer to as Primordials. The other two are his siblings; the beings humans refer to as God and the Devil, the Primordials of good and evil."

"Wait, so all of that stuff is real? The Bible and whatnot?" Jack asked incredulously.

War shook her head. "No; none of the "holy books" humans have written are particularly accurate. They may get a few aspects and characters right here and there, but never everything. God, Death and the Devil could be considered triplets, but it is widely believed by many of the older beings that Death is slightly older than the other two."

Jack's only response to this was to stare blankly ahead.

"God has been MIA for dozens of millennia now, which essentially eliminates him as a suspect," War went on.

Realizing what she was getting at, Jack was jolted out of his earlier stupor by the sensation of his stomach dropping somewhere below his feet.

"The Devil has him?" Jack said softly.

"We believe so, yes."

Jack sat down heavily, running his fingers through his hair as he stared at nothing.

"What do we do?" the frost spirit managed eventually.

"We look for him, and try to figure out what Mephistopheles is up to that he deems it necessary to bind Death."

Jack nodded to nobody in particular. Then, exhaling heavily, he pushed himself to his feet.

"All right," he said, raising his head to meet War's gaze. "I'll call Mei and we can get going."

At War's raised eyebrow, Jack shrugged. "The Guardians won't care; I doubt they'll really even notice. This is more important than preserving children's belief, anyway."

Finding out what Mephistopheles was up to turned out to be the easy part. War figured it out fairly quickly when she and Jack were attacked by a horde of Jikininki demons in northern Canada.

"That infernal bastard!" War hissed as she slid her sword from the chest of the last demon. "He's trying to expand his domain!"

"Who? Mephistopheles?" Jack asked, guiding Mei out of the bushes they'd been hiding in.

"Yes!" War spat as she wiped her sword, covered in black blood, on the snow. "He's trying to create a literal Hell on Earth!"

Jack felt a distinctly unpleasant chill run down his spine. "How do you know?"

War gestured to the corpse her horse was pawing interestedly at. "These demons are native to Japan. They should not be able to spread so quickly without anyone catching on."

"So they had help," Jack surmised.

War nodded, baring her teeth in a wolfish snarl. "He's doing a typical divide and conquer; spread our forces thin, then slam us with a hammer blow one at a time."

"Would that work against you guys? I mean, if you intensify your aspects everything that touches you dies instantly."

War shook her head. "Demons take a lot more power to kill than a human or a spirit. Your typical Reaper might be able to take out a few, probably a dozen or so, but more than that and they'd need to resort to physical combat or return to the Realm of the Dead and regenerate. Pestilence, Famine and I could last considerably longer, but we'd weaken eventually as well. And without Death to bolster our power, we'd weaken even faster. In other circumstances we could spread our influence among the humans and spirits to gain power, but in this case it would only help our enemies."

"Then shouldn't finding Death be our first priority?" Jack asked.

"Yes, and Mephistopheles knows it. He'll be watching us carefully and will move to intercept us if we get too close," War said, tapping the clawed fingertips of her gloves against her lips thoughtfully. She apparently ignored the way her horse had begun stomping on the corpses behind her. "He will not, however, be paying much attention to you."

"What?" Jack asked with a jolt.

"He won't consider you much of a threat; on the power scale you're far below us and most of the demons. The thing he'd be concerned about with you is your connections. You're connected with perhaps the most powerful being in the universe, and are connected with several other powerful beings associated with him. But you yourself he doesn't consider much of a threat. Which is why I need you to find Raven and get him to rally the Elder Spirits; we're going to need their help."

"Okay," Jack said, not entirely sure where the Red Horseman was going with this. Undoubtedly noticing his furrowed brow War went on, "I'll need their help to take on the freed demons. You, however, should keep looking for Death."

"What?" Jack practically shouted. "But you just said I have connections! I could help you mobilize the other spirits!"

"And that's exactly what Mephistopheles expects. He'll have prepared for it. Your connection with Death, however, is unique, something none of us understand. It is unpredictable, and that is exactly what we need right now."

Jack exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as he stroked Mei's neck for a moment.

Then he opened them. "All right. I'll go find Raven."

"Tell him to find as many Elder Spirits and Death Gods as he can. Once you've done that, find Black Shuck and one of the cat sidhe. They'll be able to protect you while you search."

Jack nodded, mouth set in a grim line. "All right. Good luck, War."

"Good fortune, Jack Frost."

Chapter Text

Chapter 17:

Mei moved along at a steady canter, Black Shuck loping easily at her left side while a cat sidhe rode in front of Jack in the saddle.

Jack was greatly disturbed that he had been unable to find Raven. Recalling that the spirit had gone with Death to find the ghouls, Jack feared that Raven had been caught in the crossfire of whatever plan Mephistopheles had for Death.

Jack had, however, found the Leprechaun when he'd been searching for Shuck. The poor spirit had been terrified when Jack had told him what was going on, but he had agreed to tell whatever Elder Spirits he could find about the situation and get them to help spread the word.

So now Jack and his companions were traveling along England's western shore, hoping to find some secluded, hidden space where Jack could try to reach Death.

At least they were until Shuck suddenly let out a furious howl. Mei skidded to a halt, whinnying loudly in alarm while the cat sidhe bristled, leaping out of the saddle with a yowl.

Hearing a series of loud whinnies from above, Jack looked up just in time to see a herd of Pitch's Nightmares descending upon them. Jack quickly dropped the reins and brought his staff up in a defensive position while Shuck and the cat sidhe braced themselves on either side of him and Mei. When the Nightmares reached the ground, though, they didn't attack. Instead they formed a ring four deep around the winter spirit and his companions, snorting and pawing threateningly at the ground.

A tense standoff ensued for several seconds until a quiet laugh echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Well, well. Jack Frost, without his new Guardian friends. What a surprise; I would have thought you'd want to spend some time with the only spirits to ever pay attention to you."

"Pitch! I don't have time for this, what do you want?" Jack yelled, glancing around in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Boogeyman.

Chuckling, Pitch emerged from a shadow a few feet in front of Mei, who pinned her ears at him.

The cat sidhe leaped in front of the horse and pinned her ears as well, tail swinging slightly behind her as she began a low, singsong meow. Shuck kept staring at the Nightmares behind Jack and Mei, but by the way he'd cocked his ears Jack could tell he was paying attention to the conversation as well.

Pitch grinned. "My, my, more animals, Jack? Is that the best you can get?"

"Seems to be better than you; I didn't have to make them," Jack said with a raised eyebrow.

Pitch's smile turned into a mild glare while Mei whickered her agreement.

Smiling a little himself now, Jack said, "I ask again, Pitch, what do you want?"

Pitch's grin returned full force. "Why, simply to give you a gift, Jack."

A series of pinned ears and switching tails showed how much stock everyone present put in those words. Jack himself gave Pitch a deadpan look. In return, Pitch smiled congenially and pulled something from behind his back.

A golden box; a tooth case from Tooth's palace.

"Don't you want them, Jack?" Pitch asked softly. "Your memories?"

Jack was frozen in place, staring at the box as one would at an animal they weren't sure would bite or ask for a pat. Death had told him decades ago what the purpose of Toothiana's work was and that she may well have some of Jack's memories stored away in one of her little cases. He had told the frost sprite that she would likely give them to him if Jack asked, but Jack had been hesitant to do so. He knew from many of the ghosts he'd met that it was possible to recover memories of life through various processes; the easiest and least stressful of which was a process similar to meditation. Some may even regain memories over a period of time, usually while hanging around areas they had inhabited in life.

Jack knew that Burgess had always held a sense of familiarity, of home, to him. Death had confirmed that the lake Jack lived by was the same one that had claimed his life three centuries ago. As for the rest of his memories, Death said, it would be best if Jack recovered them on his own. There would be much patient work that needed to be involved, but all the Reapers and ghosts agreed that, for the dead at least, recovering memories slowly was the best course of action. Getting everything back in one go often had a devastating effect on the spirit, being too overwhelming to take in all at once. And if many of the memories were painful, they could easily turn the spirit malevolent.

Pitch took a step forward and Mei raised her head, ears flat against her head, sensing her rider's unease.

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Scared, Jack?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Not of you."

Pitch laughed. "Maybe not. But you are afraid of something."

Jack's glare intensified. Pitch smiled. "Come now, Jack, give me a little credit. It's the one thing I always know; people's greatest fears. Yours is that no one will ever believe in you."

Jack flinched as though struck; deep down, he'd always known that was what he feared above all else, but to hear it spoken out loud was like a blow to the gut. The Nightmares whickered as though laughing. Mei whinnied furiously, rearing up and nearly sending Jack toppling off as she kicked at the Boogeyman with her front hooves. Pitch disappeared before the first blow could land, reappearing a few feet to the right laughing like the cat who'd gotten the canary. The Nightmares only got louder.

Then all sound ceased when everyone became aware of one sound; a low, menacing growl that seemed to emanate from the ground beneath their feet and the surrounding air.

Jack froze when he realized the sound was actually coming from Shuck. Turning Mei about, he saw that the great black hound and the cat sidhe were standing tail-to-tail. The cat spirit pinned her ears to her head, claws kneading at the earth as she hissed. Her eyes were beginning to glow a soft white and her singsong meow began again, though now it was more haunting than before.

Do you want to play, little steeds?

Shuck, meanwhile, had his eyes fixed on Pitch. His lips had peeled back in a snarl that showed his sharpened teeth; his form seemed to grow larger as Pitch's shadows gathered around him, his fur bristling and making him look more wolf than dog. Shuck flexed his claws as he dropped into a hunting crouch, eyes beginning to turn from yellow to glowing crimson red. The ground beneath his feet blackened where he stepped as he moved slowly toward Pitch.

You wish to test a hound of Death, Shadow King?

A coldness that had nothing to do with Jack settled over them; white mist began to roll in too quickly for it to be natural. The Nightmares, instead of laughing now, shuffled about uncertainly, several of them snorting and whinnying in agitation. Pitch himself didn't move, but his eyes betrayed his alarm.

Mei also went to move toward the Boogeyman, but Jack gently held her back.

"Whoa," he said firmly. Glancing at the snarling hound, he said, "No, Shuck. Down."

Shuck gave a small growl of protest, but straightened out of his crouch and stopped advancing. The cat sidhe also straightened up; both animals' eyes quickly returned to their usual color, but their tails were still twitching.

Tense silence.

Then Pitch turned to Jack and raised an eyebrow, looking not at all like he had just been threatened by a ghostly hound.

"Here," he said, tossing the golden box to Jack. Jack quickly brought his hands up, catching it purely on instinct. "Take it, with my good will."

"Oh, and, before I forget…," Pitch smiled. Not a nice one. "Happy Easter, Jack."

Jack had no time to react before a large shadow loomed up before him and Mei, swallowing them whole. Both sprite and horse screamed as they tumbled through the darkness, Jack falling from the saddle in the process.

When Jack finally rolled to a stop he immediately leaped to his feet, finding himself facing an earthen wall instead of a black hole.

"Mei!" he shouted, pounding a fist against said wall.

Something crunched under his bare feet.

Startled, Jack glanced down. The floor of this… tunnel was covered in painted eggshells. Crushed painted eggshells.

"What?" Jack said softly to himself, stepping over the shattered eggs and keeping wary eyes on the shadows as he moved toward the shaft of light he could see at the other end of the tunnel.

He emerged in an open glade surrounded by trees and bushes. Shielding his eyes against the sun, Jack saw the Guardians -Tooth and Bunny, at least- standing near a picnic table and a group of children.

"I can't believe it," a little girl was saying. "There's no such thing as the Easter Bunny."

"What are you talking about? I'm right in front of…," Bunny said incredulously, stepping toward the kids.

He stopped cold when one of them passed right through him, eyes going wide as he crouched in on himself.

Jack winced in sympathy.

"They can't see me," Bunny whispered, so quietly Jack barely heard him. "They can't see me."

"Jack!"

North's call had Jack jumping and whipping about to face the Guardian of Wonder as he approached the winter sprite, a harried look on his face. "Where were you?"

Jack's jaw dropped. "I…,"

"The Nightmares attacked the tunnels," North continued, swinging one of his swords for emphasis. "They smashed every egg, crushed every basket."

"Jack!" Tooth called, nearly giving Jack whiplash as he turned about to face her. She looked relieved as she flew toward him; then her eyes moved downward and she came to a halt, expression morphing into shock. "Where did you get that?"

Startled, Jack looked down; he hadn't even realized he was still holding the case Pitch had given him. He looked up again when Tooth gasped in horror.

"Where's Baby Tooth?" she asked, eyes darting frantically about as she searched for her missing fairy.

"What? She wasn't with me; I thought you guys…," Jack said.

"That's where you were?" North asked, incredulity stamped over his features. "You were with Pitch?"

"With him? He popped up out of nowhere and literally threw this thing in my face, then shadow-dropped me and my horse! If it were up to me I wouldn't…!"

"He has to go."

Everyone fell silent, turning to face Bunnymund as he walked toward them, eyes downcast.

"Bunny…," Jack began.

Then Bunny's eyes snapped up to meet his; Jack drew back at the plain, searing rage he could see expressed there.

"We should NEVER have trusted you!" Bunny shouted, leaping forward with his fist drawn back.

Jack had done this so many times now he didn't even need to think. He grabbed Bunny's fist as the spirit threw it forward, stepping aside and guiding his assailant's paw downward. He gripped Bunny's arm just below the shoulder, twisting the joint in its socket as he brought Bunny to the ground, pinning him with one knee in his ribs and the other at his elbow, not letting up his grip in the slightest. Jack twisted his left hand slightly, drawing a pained yelp from his opponent.

"I hope you'll think twice before doing that again," Jack said lowly, hooded eyes staring Bunny down when he turned his head to face the winter sprite. "I could just as easily have broken your elbow."

Bunny's eyes widened, and he didn't even attempt to get up when Jack pushed himself to his feet. Painting an indifferent mask over his face, Jack didn't even look at the other Guardians as he grabbed his staff and leaped into the sky.

Knowing Mei, she was already on her way to Antarctica to meet him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18:

When Jack landed on the ledge of ice that was his usual haunt in Antarctica, Mei was nowhere to be seen. Considering he had no idea where she'd ended up, the winter spirit decided it would be best to stay and wait for her for a little bit.

Sighing quietly, Jack sat at the edge of the ledge and crossed his legs, closing his eyes and laying his staff across his lap. The middle of Antarctica was about as secluded as you could get; here was as good a place as any for him to try and contact Death.

"I thought this might happen."

Or not.

"They never really believed in you; I was just trying to show you that. But I understand."

Jack turned and fired a blast of ice magic so quickly Pitch nearly didn't have the chance to block it. "You understand what, exactly?" Jack snarled, holding his staff in a white-knuckled grip as he walked down the ledge toward the Boogeyman.

"I know what it's like to be cast out, to not be believed in. To long for… a family," Pitch said, softly but emphatically.

Jack tilted his head slightly. If only he knew.

"All those years in the shadows, I thought 'no one else knows what this feels like'. Now I see I was wrong," Pitch said, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. "You don't have to be alone, Jack. I believe in you, and I know children will too!"

"In me?" Jack said, barely keeping from drawing away as Pitch walked closer to him.

"Yes!" Pitch exclaimed as Jack turned to keep him in sight. "Look at what we can do!"

Jack's eyes moved from Pitch, noticing for the first time the enormous pinnacle of blackened ice that had resulted from the collision of his and Pitch's power. It was… actually, with all the protruding spikes, it was a little frightening.

"What goes together better than cold and dark?" Pitch said, voice growing louder as his excitement mounted.

"Cold and death?" Jack muttered to himself.

"We can make them believe!" Pitch said, obviously not having heard the frost spirit as he began walking around the sculpture. "We'll give them a world where everything, everything is…!"

"Pitch Black?" Jack asked, giving the Boogeyman a deadpan look when he came back into view. Pitch paused, eyes moving back to Jack.

"And Jack Frost, too. They'll believe in both of us," Pitch said, smiling again.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "No, they'll fear both of us. And that's not what I want." He turned and began walking away from Pitch and frozen nightmare sand. "Now for the last time, leave me alone."

After a few seconds, Jack froze when Pitch's voice reached his ears. "Very well. You want to be left alone, done. But first…"

Heart skipping a beat, Jack turned around just in time to see Pitch raise a fisted hand, the little tooth fairy he'd met earlier clutched tightly within.

"Baby Tooth!" Jack exclaimed, leaping toward her with a hand outstretched. He stopped when Baby Tooth began squeaking frantically and shaking her head.

"The staff, Jack!" Pitch said, face twisting into a horrible snarl.

Jack brought his staff up, pointing the crook at Pitch in response. He didn't attack, though; he didn't want to risk hitting Baby Tooth.

"You have a bad habit of interfering," Pitch said. "Now hand it over, and I'll let her go."

Jack froze, ignoring Baby Tooth as she shook her head at him. There was no way he could risk attacking right now, but if Pitch took his staff… the staff was a major conduit for his powers. Without it, he would essentially be reduced to fighting hand-to-hand, which wasn't very efficient when going up against a magic-user.

Baby Tooth squeaked in pain as Pitch's grip tightened marginally and Jack gritted his teeth. Relaxing his grip, he held the staff out to Pitch, who took it with a smug smile.

"All right. Let her go," Jack said, holding his hand out.

Pitch's smirk widened. "No."

Jack blinked.

"You said you wanted to be alone. So be alone!" Pitch snarled.

Jack's eyes narrowed, feet shifting slightly to assume a fighting stance. He'd have to move quickly; Pitch couldn't see this coming, or he might harm Baby Tooth. Which also meant Jack couldn't botch his attack, he'd need to make the first hit count…

Jack's train of thought was interrupted by Baby Tooth pecking Pitch. The Boogeyman shouted in pain, throwing the squeaking fairy headlong behind Jack into the swirling storm.

"No!" Jack shouted, following her with his eyes until she fell out of sight. Hearing shifting snow behind him, Jack turned just in time to see Pitch break his staff over his knee.

Something inside of him snapped along with it.

Jack gasped, hands going up to grip at his chest, eyes wide with pain. They widened with shock when he realized that, for the first time in three hundred years, he felt… cold.

Jack didn't have time to react when Pitch flung a barrage of nightmare sand at him, throwing him back against a wall of glacial ice. Groaning in pain, Jack couldn't even think of trying to catch himself as he fell into a crevice of ice. Dimly he heard Pitch laughing above him, heard the clack of wood as the two pieces of his staff landed close by.

A small squeak drew his attention to a bundle of green and blue feathers lying close to the remains of his staff.

"Baby Tooth," Jack rasped as the fairy sat up slowly, smiling and tweeting a greeting when she saw him. Jack smiled weakly and tried to reach out toward her.

He barely had the strength to make his arm twitch. Even that effort exhausted him; exhaling heavily, Jack collapsed to his side. He barely heard Baby Tooth's alarmed shriek as she darted over to him, leaping onto his chest and grabbing frantically at his hoodie.

"Sorry, Baby Tooth," Jack whispered, not even able to lift his head to look at her. Not that it would have made much difference; blackness was seeping its way into the edges of his sight. "Looks like I won't be able to help you after all; not that I really did in the first place, anyway."

Baby Tooth's frantic tweeting only grew louder as Jack's eyes slid shut and his breathing began to slow.

Mei had made it to the tip of Africa when she felt it; her rider's connection to the living world was weakening.

The deathsteed came to a halt mid-stride, snorting and tossing her head, whinnying. Jack loved Death, loved her and the Horsemen and Reapers, but he couldn't leave this plane yet! There were still things he wanted to do, needed to do! He couldn't play with the children if he died, couldn't protect them!

Mei whinnied again, rearing up and kicking at the sky. What could she do, what could she do?!

As suddenly as she'd started jumping about, she froze, ears pricked. From the thread that connected her with Jack, she could feel something else. It was… difficult to grasp, impossible to decipher, but it felt like home, safety, belonging… family… love.

Leader. Trust. Lord. Death.

Mei didn't even pause to think. She turned about and took off, following the line of that connection at a mad gallop.

Death believed this was the closest he'd ever gotten to being comatose. At this point he might have even wanted to go comatose, had he not been distracting himself from the constant pain by trying to puzzle out a way to break through the chains. Shapeshifting didn't work; they just shifted along with him. There was something-likely a bit of Mephistopheles' core power, since he was actually immortal- keeping Death from using his aspect to break them. And since he was completely immobile, manually working his way free wasn't an option either. His aspect was restricted to his physical form, so manipulating the environment wouldn't work…

A quiet, choked croak drew Death's attention briefly to the bloodied form of Raven, lying on his back with his mangled wings spread out to either side. There was a gaping hole in the spirit's throat and chest, and his neck was at a horrible angle.

The hellhound that had done the deed sat a few feet away from Raven, eyeing Death curiously now and then when it deemed guard duty too boring.

Death flexed his fingers, the only outward sign of his agitation. He should have by all rights reaped Raven a day ago; his injuries were mortal, but Death being bound as he was meant he was unable to do his job.

And it was awful. He could feel Raven's pain, physical and emotional, and it grew stronger with every passing hour. Death had tried time and again to use that connection to break the enchanted chains to no avail. Raven had realized what he was doing and had initially tried to offer what assistance he still could. Unfortunately, the hellhound had realized what they were doing and had proceeded to snap Raven's neck and crush him beneath its paw, causing horrible burns on top of the pain of pressure on his chest wound.

Death didn't think he'd been this angry for centuries, perhaps a millennium or two. And since his power was bound, he could do nothing about it.

A sudden coldness in the region of his chest had Death lifting his head, staring vacantly at the wall of the cave he and Raven had been taken to as he fell into himself.

Coldness, numbing, painful. Can't breathe, can't move. Chest hurts… everything hurts… a breaking spell that grates against his senses…

Jack.

Death went completely still. The Moon's spell had been broken somehow; Jack was dying. And he would be stuck in that horrid state until Death was free.

The entity closed his eyes, moving his thoughts to calmness, as he focused on the thread that had formed between him and the little sprite three centuries ago. He tried to cast his senses along the line so he could locate the boy; the chains prevented him from getting very far.

But he got farther than he had with Raven; there was something else, some other bond with Jack and himself that was bolstering his power. Death smiled when he realized who it was.

Mei. Jack's ever-loyal deathsteed.

And before long another bond joined hers; Death immediately recognized the presence of his own horse, galloping beside Mei as they followed the pull towards him. Death redoubled his efforts and reached out to them, this time able to faintly brush against his steed's mind.

Shortly thereafter there was a clatter of hooves at the cave entrance and two furious horses were charging inside. The hellhound guard never knew what hit it; Death's horse had grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and thrown it into the cave wall hard enough to cause a minor quake before it could stand. Mei, meanwhile, had busied herself examining the points where Death's chains were fastened into the stone floor. When Death raised his hands, both horses immediately stepped over and pressed their noses into his palms.

Through his connection to them, Death could reach even further into the world, immediately seeking out the three aspects of himself he had separated oh so long ago.

Pestilence, War, Famine!

The other Horsemen responded immediately, reaching back along the link and sending the power he had given them all those countless ages past back to him.

Death's aspect swelled.

The chains shattered as his human form melted away.

The horses whinnied loudly as Death's power washed over them, rapidly spreading through the cave, over the continent of Europe and further, until all creatures under the sun and beyond could feel it. The Reapers, steeds, ghosts and Horsemen cheered uproariously, power renewed even as the demons quailed beneath the dark wave.

Death was free. And he was not happy.

First things first, though. He had some business to deal with.

Death turned his gaze to Raven's now still body. A flare of his aspect and it vanished in a swirl of shadow, the last vestiges holding the spirit to the living world were cut.

A moment later there was a flutter of wings, and Raven landed on his shoulder, rubbing his head against Death's hood. Death reached up a hand, stroking two skeletal fingers over his back.

I am sorry you had to suffer so, my friend. Fare thee well in my realms, Raven.

Raven gave a single wordless caw before leaping off Death's shoulder, streaking toward the top of the cave and disappearing in a flash of blue.

Death raised his head, eyeless sockets gazing at the ceiling as he directed his thoughts across the globe to his servants. If it is within your capabilities, finish the demons you are fighting. If not, you and those of you who are not fighting return to the realm of the dead. I will join you there shortly.

There was a chorus of agreement, and Death could feel the other Horsemen begin to move to assist any of the Reapers they felt needed it. Satisfied that they would be able to take care of things, Death quickly turned about and mounted his horse. Mei charged out of the cave as soon as he was settled and Death spurred his steed after her. Less than a second later they were galloping through the sky, racing faster than a hurricane's wind.

Jack would have cried if he'd had the strength when he saw the figure standing above him; his vision of Baby Tooth seemed distorted by a kaleidoscope of glass, but Death he could see as clear as day.

"Dad," he whispered through his burning throat, trying to raise his arms even though he knew there was no way he could.

"Hush, now. There's no need to speak," Death said softly, kneeling by Jack's side as he reached out and placed a skeletal hand against the spirit's cheek. Jack closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch.

Am I dying?

Jack, you died several minutes ago. You couldn't move on because you have been bound to this realm for too long.

Jack dimly felt that he should be distressed by this news, but he was so exhausted, and Death's voice in his mind was so gentle and soft and he felt so warm that Jack just couldn't muster the will to do so.

Will you take me then, Dad? Please?

Jack got the impression of a laugh in his mind, and then he felt a pair of arms lifting him and cradling him against a black-clothed chest. He felt Death move; the entity's grip on him barely shifted as Death hauled them both into the pale steed's saddle.

I would allow it to none other, my little one.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19:

Death was not at all surprised at the size of the party waiting for him when he entered the Realm of the Dead with an unconscious Jack in his arms.

More than half the Reaper corps had shown up, along with dozens of death fey and what looked to be nearly all of Earth's Death Gods.

As expected, the other three Horsemen were the first to greet him, gathering about him as he brought his horse to a stop. They were dismounted, they and their steeds getting as close as they dared to Death without disturbing Jack.

"Poor sprite," Famine murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of Jack's face.

"It's about time though," War muttered, expression tight. "Kid's been essentially dead for three hundred years, he deserves some peace and quiet."

Pestilence simply hummed what seemed to be an affirmation as the three steeds took turns gently nuzzling Jack with their noses. When they stepped back, Death nudged his horse into a slow walk down the pathway the gathered crowd had formed for him. Persephone tucked a small white daisy behind Jack's ear, whispering softly to him in ancient Greek. Black-haired Hades wrapped an arm around his wife and nodded to Death, laying a gentle hand on one of Cerberus' heads when the hound whined softly.

Anubis and Osiris were both silent, simply dipping their heads in respect. The Emperors of Youdu bowed deeply. Kalma and her sisters were next, then Xibalba and La Muerte, Cernunnos, Yama, Camazotz, Morrigan, Hel, Erlik, and dozens of others.

When they reached the end of the seemingly endless line, Death gently nudged his horse into a canter, guiding him in a very specific direction.

Death's horse snorted in approval when Death brought him to a halt in front of a decent sized two-story farmhouse in the Fields of Asphodel. They weren't nearly as drab as myth made them out to be; green grass as far as the eye could see, dotted with meadows of flowers and orchards of fruit trees the spirits that lived here chose to cultivate. Beloved pets ran about with their deceased human companions while a variety of wild animals romped in the unclaimed fields.

As Death dismounted, the door of the cottage opened and a young sheepdog came bounding out, barking at the top of its lungs.

"Oh, goodness, must dogs ALWAYS be like this?" Death's horse muttered as the canine wove between his legs, yipping all the while. When he didn't stop after a few moments, the horse lowered his head and stared the dog directly in the eye. "I will EAT you, dog, if you do not cease this nonsense immediately."

Yelping with fright, the dog darted back to the door, ducking beneath the legs of the brown-haired woman who'd opened it.

She'd been in her late thirties when she'd died, Death remembered; her features were as youthful here as they'd been the day she passed. Brown eyes widened in surprise when they fell on him, and she quickly dipped her head.

"Lord Death," she murmured, giving a quick curtsy.

"There is no need for formality, Sophie," Death said. "I come bearing rather… bittersweet news."

The woman raised her head with a frown tugging lightly at her mouth. Then her gaze fell on the bundle in Death's arms and her eyes widened, filling with tears as her hands flew to her mouth.

"J… Jack?" She whispered, eyes flying to meet Death's gaze. "Is… is it… truly Jack?"

Death nodded. "Yes. He has finally passed."

"You… you're the one who retrieved him?"

"Yes. I brought him here so that he may be reunited with his human family; he has no memory of you, but I do not doubt that he still holds you dear to his heart."

"Thank you," Sophie whispered, a tremulous smile visible behind her palms. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for watching over my brother."

Death dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I do not know what he will remember when he wakes; I'd suggest you take things slowly when reintroducing yourselves."

Sophie nodded, carefully taking Jack from Death's outstretched arms. "I will be," she whispered, tears streaming unchecked down her face. She smiled. "Wait until he learns I married his best friend!"

Jack woke to see an unfamiliar woman staring down at him. His brow furrowed… no, she wasn't unfamiliar… she…

The woman smiled at him. "Not in a tricky mood, Jack?"

Something clicked.

"Sophie!" Jack cried, launching himself forward and wrapping his arms around her so tightly it was surprising he didn't break a few ribs. She held him back just as tightly, not noticing or not caring when he buried his face in her shoulder, soaking her dress with his tears. When he raised his head again, he saw two more familiar-unfamiliar people standing in the door, clutching each other's hands, tears shining in their eyes as they watched him and his sister -his sister- hold each other.

"Mom! Dad!"

Two more bodies soon joined the hug-fest, and then three more – "You married DAVID?! Why?!" "Thank you so much, Twig!" "Jerk! And you had KIDS?!" – and soon there was a huge pile of people in the room as Jack was introduced to his extended family- Father and mother in-law, a nephew and niece, three grand-nieces and five grand-nephews, and several more great-grand nieces and nephews. There were plenty of tears, even more laughter – it was a very good thing spirits didn't need to breathe- and after hour upon hour everyone piled out the backdoor to the patio. Mei whinnied exuberantly, trotting over from where she'd been grazing under the apple trees, nosing Jack until he finally gave in and gave her a hug (and Sophie gave her a sugar cube).

"Wait… where's Death?" Jack said suddenly, glancing back at everyone from where he was scratching Mei's head. His family shared looks amongst each other.

"We don't know. He left right after he gave you to us," Sophie said, holding David's hand.

"He is likely in council with the other Horsemen and elder Reapers," Jack's father said. "There is still the threat of Mephistopheles to deal with."

"He will come and speak to you at a later date," David said. "I don't believe he's asked you how you wish to spend your afterlife."

Jack blinked, baffled for a few seconds, before realization dawned. "Oh. Yeah, you're right, he hasn't asked me yet."

The looks that passed between his newfound family didn't escape his notice.

"You've already decided, though," Sophie said, as though not quite certain of her words.

Jack ducked his head. "Yes. I'm glad to see you again, Sophie, David, Mom, Dad. And I'm glad to have met the rest of you, I really, truly am, but…,"

"Jack," Sophie interrupted, laying a hand on his arm. Jack raised his head, mirroring his sister's smile when he saw her face. "We love you. No matter what you choose, we'll love you."

"Yes," their mother said quietly, coming to kneel beside Sophie while their father stood beside her with a hand on her shoulder. She smiled at Jack; Jack's own smile widened and no, those were not tears he was feeling in his eyes, thank you very much.

"And we will always be proud to call you family," Jack's father said.

Jack's face crumbled as he launched himself into his family's arms. There were certainly tears, but, well. You could hardly call that surprising.

As David had said, Death eventually returned to speak with Jack.

It was the middle of the night, as far as Jack could tell when he woke and found himself in his room (his room!), not entirely able to say what had roused him. Jack almost didn't see him, standing in the corner by the door; his black robes made him look more part of the shadows than anything else.

"Death!" Jack shout-whispered. Before Death could respond, Jack had leaped out of bed and wrapped him in what to a human would probably have been a bone-crushing hug.

Jack buried his face in Death's chest as he felt the entity's arms wrapping around him, one skeletal hand carding through his hair.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for returning me to them."

"And I was to do what else, precisely?" Death asked. He didn't comment on the tears soaking the front of his robe.

Jack just clutched at him more tightly, staying pressed against his taller form for the boy didn't know how long.

When he at last pulled back and met Death's gaze, the entity said, "I trust you know why I'm here."

"Yes. I want to become a Reaper," Jack said.

Death tilted his head slightly.

"I know you might think it's sudden," Jack said quickly. "But I've thought about this for a while… like, I was thinking about this way before I died. The second time, I mean. I'm really happy and really grateful you returned me to my family, but with what's going on in the living world right now and seeing what you and the Reapers do…,"

"If you were still alive, I'd be telling you to breathe," Death interrupted, amused. "I know how firm you are in this decision; I can sense the state of your being much more clearly now that you are fully dead. And I will gladly accept you as one of my Reapers."

Jack's expression would have lit up some of the deepest caverns Death had ever visited. The entity laughed softly, running a hand through Jack's hair again. "Go back to bed; I will return in the morning and we can begin your training."

Chapter Text

Chapter 20:

"This is…,"

"I am aware. Just remember to keep your awareness anchored in some way; it is possible to lose yourself while reading your surroundings."

"It's just… I'd never really thought about how you affect things on such a large and small scale," Jack said, eyes distant as he gazed around the glade he and Death were standing in.

"Most don't," Death responded. "Decaying molecules and dying galaxies can be fascinating to observe from time to time, though."

"That's probably the biggest difference in scale I could've… wait, galaxies die?" Jack said, eyes focusing on Death as they widened.

"Of course; everything does," Death answered.

"Well… yeah, I guess, but they're not alive."

"I am an anthropomorphic representation of the end of existence; I choose to appear in this form because this is similar to what many of the beings here perceive death to be. A form makes it easier to interact with other beings and tends to make them more comfortable in their dealings with me, but it is not necessary to perform my function."

Jack just stood and blinked for several moments.

"I'm not even going to try to wrap my head around that right now."

There was a sound like sand blowing across a road, and Jack realized Death was laughing. "Likely for the best. Were you able to perceive the local balance of energies?"

"Yeah. I… I can't really describe how it felt," Jack said, awed. Then he ducked his head. "I'm… still a little nervous about... you know."

"That is hardly surprising; it takes Reapers time to acclimate to their new responsibilities, as well as come to grips with the necessity of their function."

"I know that you don't… that we don't actually kill people, but at the same time it's a little hard to differentiate between killing and reaping in my mind. It's like there's a difference between knowing and knowing, if that makes sense," Jack said.

"You will come to understand it fairly quickly, I think," Death said. "You have encountered many varieties of ghosts; you are familiar with some of the consequences a soul may encounter if they are not allowed to die."

"But some people choose to stay behind, don't they?"

"Yes, and they often regret it. Or would, if they still had the presence of mind to do so. Poltergeists, for example. And you know that some are bound to the living world against their will, which causes other kinds of pain."

"Like Klaus, you mean? But he seems happy enough."

"That was most certainly not the case initially; being under the control of a black magic user is akin to being trapped in an iron maiden buried in a bed of hot coals is the gist of what I gleaned from him. Once he was freed, he was determined to ensure that the residents of Sleepy Hollow would never fall under such a curse again."

"He had a purpose," Jack said, comprehension dawning.

"And he was not grieved about leaving someone behind; he had nothing to pine after and retained a sense of self. Nothing held him there and he was eventually able to travel between the worlds of the living and dead without much hindrance."

"He's strong enough that he can cross over and rest when he needs to, and there's no sort of emotional pain driving him mad," Jack said.

"Yes. He is one of very few ghosts able to do so," Death said. "Now, keep your focus, Jack. Can you feel his life energy?"

"Yes," Jack answered, eyes mostly closed as he crouched next to the elk lying in front of them. It was a large bull, of advanced age if the grizzled hairs on its face and chest were anything to go by. A bit more probing and... "He's almost seventeen," Jack announced.

Famine hummed an affirmation from off to the side. "Elk in the wild rarely live to his age. In lean times, the elderly and the sick are the first to go."

"It seems kind of sad, that he has to die before he gets there."

"Nature is red in tooth and claw, Jack, and Death will always claim his due. It doesn't matter what milestone you may be about to reach," Famine said.

"I'm standing right here, you realize," Death said dryly.

The elk gave a quiet groan, barely even audible. Death stepped forward, bending down and laying a gentle hand between the creature's antlers.

It immediately went limp, body slackening as though in relief.

Gathering his nerve, Jack came to stand beside Death and placed his hand on the animal's muzzle. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he processed the brief impression of the elk's feelings he caught as the creature's spirit examined him. Jack gave it a gentle nudge and the spirit leaped past him as though it had already known where to go.

Jack was surprised that there had been a sort of... awareness of what was happening in the elk's mind. Animals didn't think the same way humans did, but they could certainly feel. The elk had known he was dying, but he hadn't been frightened about it. Jack wanted to say it seemed like the animal had been accepting of his death.

The former frost spirit opened his eyes, looking at Famine and Death as he stood.

"You seem remarkably accepting of this," the Black Horseman said.

Jack shrugged. "It's natural, just like you said. He was too old and too weak to compete with the others, and it's probably better he die this way than be torn apart by wolves or mountain lions."

Famine nodded in acknowledgement. "Slower, yes, but a bit less painful. Well done, Jack."

Jack smiled. It vanished almost as quickly as it had come when he ducked his head. "I'm... I'm still afraid of... of reaping my first human."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Famine smiling at him. The way Death's head was tilted indicated he would be doing the same if he wasn't a skeleton. "So is everyone, Jack. It would be concerning if you weren't."

Jack smiled tremulously back. "Should we go?"

"Yes," Death said. "I have an appointment in Japan."

Most mythology would lead you to believe Death could be found walking through a graveyard. In truth, Death spent most of his time in hospitals, nursing homes, battlefields and other such places. He had no business with the already dead.

It was in a hospital the entity stood now, waiting at the foot of a bed in a delivery room. He watched, invisible, as the doctors and nurses worked frantically to assist the woman on the bed through her labor, her husband sitting anxiously on the bench against the left wall.

The woman, Ayuna, cried out through another contraction, gripping the sides of the bed in whitened fists. The sheets beneath her were stained with blood.

Too much blood; it wasn't clotting properly. Death could also feel the internal bleeding the doctors were as yet unaware of, though it was a common enough incident in child birth. There was no blood or plasma on hand to replace it.

Death drew the hourglass pendant from his robe; golden brown sand fell quickly through the center.

At this rate Ayuna would die long before she gave birth, and the child would die with her. There was no way a Cesarean or a blood transfusion could be performed in time.

Ayuna's scream at the next contraction drew Death's attention back to her. Tears and sweat mingled on her face. When she opened her eyes, Death could see they were beginning to glaze over.

'Not my baby. Please, oh, God, please don't let my baby die.'

Death would have blinked if he could have. Then, to his surprise, Ayuna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth through the next contraction, pushing with everything she had. The moment it was over, the woman's head fell back and her eyes slid closed. Her breathing began to slow, heartbeat following in short order.

It still wasn't enough.

Death, ignoring the doctors moving to begin CPR, moved to the head of the bed. He removed the hourglass pendant from his neck and held it above the woman's head. It began rotating, slowly at first, but sped up quickly. Eventually it was spinning so rapidly it was barely visible.

When it slowed to a stop, a spiral of golden sand fell seemingly from thin air into the top of the glass. The timepiece vanished in a flash of white, and a trickle of golden brown sand drifted down onto Ayuna's face.

The woman's eyes snapped open.

Death moved back to the wall as Ayuna's husband rushed to her side and the doctors crowded around her again.

Twenty-five minutes later, Death felt the glowing warmth of a newborn soul enter the world; a baby girl, strong and healthy, he knew without needing the doctors to say it.

Ayuna's pained smile when the doctor laid the child in her arms would have cracked even the most stone-cold heart. Her husband's grin when he looked down at their daughter split his face, and he placed a warm kiss on Ayuna's cheek.

Four minutes later, Ayuna looked up. Death could tell simply by the way her eyes focused that she could see him.

The woman looked down at her daughter again and smiled, cooing softly at her. She kissed her daughter's forehead before sitting up, and promptly fell back against the pillow, a soft smile on her face.

Death stepped forward the moment her heart stopped beating, gently pulling the soul free. It needed essentially no guidance on its way; Ayuna knew she was dead and had accepted it.

The child, however, wasn't familiar with the concept. Death could feel the young soul seeking for its lost parent, eventually reaching toward him.

'No,' Death told it softly. It pulled back, confused. Why were such young souls so perceptive?

'Yes, I did take her away,' Death said when the soul reached for him again, questioning. 'But I will not take you. She wants you to stay here. She fought to keep you from me, and I have no reason to go against her will. I hope we do not meet again for a very long time, little one.'

The soul pulled back, saddened for a moment, before returning its attention to the signals of its body. One good thing about these young souls; they were easily distracted and their memories were very short.

Death turned and walked through the door. He was met with the sight of Jack and Famine standing in the hall, watching him.

"You gave her more time," Jack said quietly, eyes suspiciously bright as he observed the child cradled in her sobbing father's arms, the man's free hand clutching his dead wife's.

"I came to take a soul, not two. The mother would have died regardless of what was done at that point, but there was no reason for them both to die."

"There was no reason for either of them to die, if you think about it," Famine muttered darkly. Jack glanced between the Horsemen in surprise when Death nodded assent.

"Excessive bleeding is a common complication during childbirth; having blood and plasma on hand during delivery could prevent close to two thirds of maternal deaths. Unfortunately, there is so much emphasis on delivering a healthy child in many countries that care for the mother during and after the birth is an afterthought, if that," Death explained. "Countries in the European Union and a few other areas in Asia have wisened up about it recently, but in other countries it is still a significant problem."

Jack looked at the ground, lips pursed. He didn't seem all that surprised anymore. He looked up again after a few moments.

"Can all Reapers give someone extra time? Or is that just you?"

"I am the only one with the ability," Death said. "If a Reaper believes they have a worthy case they may call me, but that happens only rarely."

Jack nodded his understanding. The three spent a few more moments observing the chaos in the delivery room before Death began leading the way back out onto the street.

They had just made it to the edge of the sidewalk when a figure to the left caught everyone's attention.

It was Ayuna. She was transparent, wearing a simple blue dress. She smiled at Death, dipping into a curtsy. Death, standing before the others, nodded in acknowledgement of the gesture. The spirit straightened again.

"Thank you," she said softly, with a final smile at Death. Then she was gone, just as quickly as she had appeared.

Famine and Jack stood slack jawed. Death remained still for a few seconds, but Jack would swear forever after that the shadows falling on his face made it look like the entity was smiling. Then he turned, and the moment was gone.

It was three days later when Jack found himself standing in a hospital room himself, watching from the sidelines, invisible, while a family said goodbye to an elderly woman lying in the bed.

Her eyes had closed several minutes ago and Jack could feel her life ebbing away.

A younger man, her son, Jack deduced, took her hand the moment the young Reaper stepped forward. A second later, the woman, Mathilda Black, took her last breath.

Jack hung back for a moment as Mathilda's spirit became visible to him, standing by the bedside and blinking down at her still body.

"Good evening, Mathilda," Jack greeted with a smile when she raised her head again. The spirit's deep brown eyes turned toward him. She smiled back.

"High time I got going, is it?" she asked.

Jack grinned. "Don't sell yourself short; 93 is a perfectly respectable age."

The woman's smile broadened. Jack held his hand out to her and she took it without a moment's pause. He turned and led the spirit toward the door.

They disappeared before they reached it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21:

Jack closed his eyes as he leaned back on the park bench, letting his head drop so it faced the sky. It had been close to a year since he'd become a fully-fledged Reaper, and he could say beyond a doubt he was pleased with the decision. It had been difficult at first, especially when he'd started reaping younger souls, but Death and the others had been there to help him through that rather steep learning curve; it had helped when he saw and heard the pain of souls who were unable to pass on.

That was one thing that had him and all the other Reapers furious with Mephistopheles at the moment; the bastard had more recently begun trying to steal souls before they were properly sorted, and the way they screamed… even if they were only trapped for a short while, they were so confused, so scared, in so much pain, Jack could barely begin to fathom it. He could empathize to a degree; he'd felt the same before Death had found him when he'd been 'reborn', and that made things so much worse.

No one else seemed to be faring much better. The Reapers were all paranoid, most of them latching onto dead souls like angry clams no matter how unnerving it was to their charges. Pestilence had lost some control of his aspect and would infect any living thing that got within five feet of him with all manner of illness, from the common cold to septicemia. Famine and War had managed to deal with it a bit more constructively; Famine would seek out groups of demons and get them to devour each other while War would just rip them to shreds or get them to do it themselves. Some of the weaker ones would explode if she even got close.

Well, Death seemed unruffled if you didn't probe too much, but damn if you looked too deep…

Jack didn't understand why Mephistopheles wasn't running to the opposite end of the universe and staying there for the next five million years.

At least it was Halloween; the Death Gods and their servants were out in force. Very few demons were strong or stupid enough to show their faces with this many powerful beings out and about.

A shift in ambient energy had Jack opening his eyes, looking to the roof of a café across the street.

Pitch Black emerged from the shadows, a pair of Nightmares on either side of him. The people on the street below immediately hunched their shoulders, tugging jackets tighter and pulling hoods over their heads. No one dared make eye contact with anyone else; all the humans hurried along, rushing to get home before night fell fully.

Pitch had undoubtedly become much stronger since his defeat of the Guardians; people who didn't believe in him could sense his presence, even adults. The entire planet had felt the effects of the defeat of the Big Four, but the scope and scale of the change had admittedly been unexpected.

Well, the whole Hell invasion thing wasn't helping.

Pitch grinned toothily as he observed the effect he'd garnered, eyes roving leisurely over the street.

His eyes passed right over Jack, unseeing. Jack wondered idly if the Boogeyman would have recognized him, anyway. His hair was mostly brown now, but it was still white at the tips, giving it a frosted look. His eyes were heterochromatic; the right one was the same ice blue it had been when he was a spirit, but the left was the earthy brown of his human days. He still wore his blue hoodie, but he'd paired it with black jeans and a set of gray tennis shoes.

A nudge to his shoulder; Jack looked back to see Mei looking at him questioningly. He smiled, reaching up and scratching between her ears. Mei snorted, pleased, and lowered her head to give him better access. Jack continued for a few more seconds before climbing onto the bench, leaping into the saddle from there. He picked up the reins, clucking his tongue and squeezing lightly with his heels.

Mei leaped into the sky, moving at a steady canter. The break was nice, but they had work to do elsewhere.

Mei snorted, trotting after a flock of fleeing pigeons while Jack waved at Aditi and Solriss as they came in to land.

"Woohoo! Scotland! I love Scotland!" Aditi said, grinning ear to ear as her horse's hooves touched the tile. They were on the roof of a pub off the Royal Mile in Edinburgh.

"You were here just last week, lass," Solriss said as he dismounted, rubbing his horse's neck while she nosed his hair.

"I don't care; I love Scottish accents," Aditi said, practically hopping out of the saddle. Her horse immediately went to join Mei in the pigeon pursuit.

"How are things going on your fronts?" Jack asked. Both their faces fell instantly.

"Miserable," Aditi said.

"Not the word I would use," Solriss muttered.

"Absolutely horrendous? Abominable? Hideous?" Aditi said.

"About, yes."

Jack sighed. "Who else is on their way?"

"Yingxi, Ming, Cody, Maria… a whole host of others, basically. It's Halloween, there's supposed to be some pretty heavy patrolling up here," Solriss said.

"I don't see why," Aditi said, looking morosely at the street below. "No humans are out tonight; not even the youngsters."

Jack sighed again. "It's Pitch. He's made everyone too afraid to go trick-or-treating or go to parties or whatnot. People have barely even decorated this year."

The other two visibly deflated; Jack felt a pang of sympathy. Halloween was one of the biggest nights of the year for the Reapers, a night when they could have at least some fun. To have it be so… lackluster had to suck, especially after all the hubbub of the last few years.

Then Jack brightened. "Hey, why don't we bring people outside?"

Confused looks from the other two.

"Come on! There's going to be a bunch of spirits out and about, and we'll all be more than able to make ourselves visible! Let's throw a huge Halloween party!"

Aditi and Solriss looked at him like he'd grown an extra pair of heads.

"For crying out loud, let's at least give it a try! Round up as many spirits as you can! I'm going to see if I can find Shuck and the cat sidhe!"

Death was soundly shocked (and wow, he had not been able to say that for quite a while) when he reached the British Isles and found essentially the entire UK filled to bursting with spirits, fae folk and Reapers dancing and laughing together, fully visible to any who might pass. Of course, they had all toned down the ghostly and celestial appearances; they could pass for humans wearing exemplary makeup and costumes. If you didn't look too closely, at any rate.

And the humans… they seemed a livelier bunch than those he'd seen elsewhere in the past year. Indeed, some of the children had summoned up the courage to join the revelers. The faeries were absolutely loving it, letting the kids touch their wings and hair and spinning them about in the dance.

The Reapers and cat sidhe thankfully knew to make sure no human ate any faery food, otherwise no one would be making it home tomorrow.

To be fair, this was the most attention the fae folk had gotten in close to a thousand years. It would be better if their first instinct wasn't to kidnap any human who captured their attention, though.

And it was no shock at all when he and his steed flew over Edinburgh to see Jack right in the thick of things, laughing and dancing to an old Scottish tune with a young human woman near the chapel of Edinburgh Castle.

Death and his horse landed out of sight, in the space between buildings near the Scottish War Museum. The entity dismounted, running his fingers through the horse's mane as he assumed a human form and strode just to the edge of the ring of lights.

He hadn't been standing there long when he noticed a girl, only around six or so, standing by the old stone wall. She was wearing a black and purple dress fashioned to look like spiderwebs and a green witch's hat. She was shifting from foot to foot, occasionally taking a step forward as if to join in, then stepping back and looking like she was trying to melt into the wall.

Death cocked his head, considering. Her soul was dimmer than was usual in children her age, but that had not been an uncommon sight these past few months. But there were sparks… tiny little things that spurred her to take those steps, but never quite enough to ignite a glow.

And then Jack was there, crouching in front of her, grinning like an idiot and asking her name - Addison, really? That's my favorite name! – how old she was, what her costume was, did she know any cool witch stories?

Addison was smiling so widely her cheeks must have hurt. When Jack asked if she wanted to dance, though, it slipped from her face and she stared uncertainly at the crowd again. "I don't know how to dance."

There was a spark again. And it was staying.

"That doesn't matter! Everyone's just having fun!" Jack said. The girl shook her head.

"We're doing our dance unit in school; I can't do any of the moves and none of the boys can lead good. Peter says I look really stupid."

Oh, for crying out loud.

"I somehow doubt that," Death said. Both heads whipped toward him, Jack's jaw dropping in shock for a second. Death's focus, however, remained on the child.

"You won't look good the first time you try anything; it's a natural consequence of having no experience. If you would like to learn, I would be willing to teach you a few basic steps."

The girl blinked up at him, mouth hanging open slightly. She was looking a bit brighter now.

"Yeah, he's really good!" Jack said, undoubtedly picking up on the same thing. "He's an expert at, like, every single dance ever invented!" He grinned at Death. "No joke."

Death gave him a deadpan look. Jack smiled.

"Do you know the Foxtrot?" Addison asked, drawing the entity's attention back to her. "Mummy dances it with daddy sometimes, and she looks so pretty every time."

Death nodded, smiling as he held out his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Giggling, Addison took his hand and let him lead her out onto the dance floor.

"Do you want to lead or follow?" Death asked.

"Lead," Addison said without missing a beat. Oh, yes, she was glowing now, and getting brighter by the second.

"All right. Then you are going to start off stepping forward with your left foot. Take two steps… yes, like that, and then step to the left and bring your feet together. Then you repeat those steps over again. Now, since you're leading, you hold my hands like this… Jack, if you try to trip me up I am going to hide Red's horse treats and tell him you did it."

Chapter Text

Chapter 22:

Halloween essentially set the tone for the next several nights all across the planet; Reapers, ghosts, Death Gods and fae folk from every legendarium imagined turned out, fully visible to mortal eyes. No one quite let the secret slip, but no human could deny there was something ethereal about these nights. Even though a few details may be hazy, they would live in human memory for generations to come.

Jack didn't think he'd ever enjoyed himself more; humans and his supernatural friends alike would joke and dance with him. Children would crowd around him to listen to stories, watched him as he played pranks on the adults and older Reapers and rode with Mei.

Everyone was surprised Death and the other Horsemen got as involved as they did, though Jack expected this was mostly because this was an unusual chance for them. Solriss confirmed it when the younger Reaper took him aside; Death didn't interact with living beings unless their time was up, as a rule. The other Horsemen hung around the living far more than he did, using their aspects to influence biology and behavior to assist in keeping things in balance, but this of course didn't involve social interaction.

It was wonderful seeing the humans so carefree for once, and perhaps the best thing was seeing the utter confusion in the Moon's spirits. Jack would usually make himself scarce when he saw someone he recognized, but sometimes he would just render himself invisible and hang around. The Leprechaun was completely delighted once he got over his shock. The Autumn seasonals didn't know what to do with themselves, and the Spring seasonals in the southern hemisphere were in the same boat. Jack had even seen Primrose and her gang a couple of times, looking absolutely baffled at the sight of all these strange creatures dancing with humans.

Pitch was equally confused. And extremely frustrated at this point, considering his Nightmares refused to get close to these gatherings when they felt the old magic of the fae and the presence of the Reapers and other spirits. It was even worse when a Death God was about. Anubis had given a herd quite the scare just by staring at them; Jack believed a good portion of northern Africa would be Nightmare-free for quite a while.

One unforeseen plus was the demons getting scared out of their wits; once it became obvious what was going on, the denizens of Hell had scattered. According to Death most of them had gone back to their own realm, spooked at seeing so many active Reapers.

As far as said Reapers were concerned, a good time was had by all.

It was the opposite for Pitch. He didn't understand why the humans were so happy all of a sudden, especially the children. They were hopeful and wondering and ugh it was a nightmare!

Well, not literally, but it was driving him insane! How was this happening? He'd defeated the Guardians! The Sandman was gone, Aster had been reduced to a talking ball of fluff, North was now a tired old man, and Toothiana's feathers might as well have been an eccentric set of pajamas. None of them had any powers to speak of, so what the heck was going on?

A clatter and several yells at one of the cavern's entrances alerted him to the arrival of the Summer sprites. Hissing quietly in annoyance, Pitch turned around as the rowdy seasonals landed on the walkway behind him.

"Anything to report?" he asked, voice a little testier than he'd intended.

"It looks like things have quieted down a lot; those… things have pretty much disappeared, at any rate," Primrose said. "The humans are still really chipper, though."

Pitch snarled. The Nightmares, picking up on his agitation, whinnied and pawed at the ground, some prancing in place. The Summer sprites and tooth fairies cowered at the sudden movement.

An idea flashed across Pitch's mind. "Have you seen Frost anywhere?" he asked sharply, gaze fixing on Primrose. His lips twisted again when he sensed the infernal hope blooming in the little fairies above him. In one specific fairy it was very prominent.

Leiron snorted. "Haven't seen a sign of him anywhere. He's probably still lying wherever you left him; he's useless without that staff."

The Bogeyman couldn't restrain his smile when he felt the fairies' hope vanishing as quickly as it had come. Still, he couldn't quite banish the pang of disappointment he felt. Jack just didn't understand; he still believed in those foolish Guardians and their ideals. They didn't care about him; they just wanted to use him as Manny had instructed. When Jack realized that, Pitch was confident in his own ability to sway the Winter sprite to his side.

And then he noticed that there were only four spirits standing in front of him

"Where is your sister?"

Jack was trotting Mei down a quiet wooded trail about three miles north of Burgess when her ears pricked forward. Jack immediately slowed to a sitting trot, turning his attention ahead. Sure enough, he could hear voices.

"…ya damned pixie! Ya think workin' with Pitch'll get you ahead, don't ya!"

"It's not like we have much else to do! Pitch is the strongest out of all of us now!"

"But you can see what he's doing to the children! How can you help him, knowing that?"

Jack brought Mei to a stop when they exited the woods. Both Reaper and horse blinked in surprise; standing at the trailhead were Lilac, an apparently flightless Toothiana and…

Jack barked a laugh. Bunny was… he looked like an actual bunny now. And he was so fluffy!

Ah, well. Back to business; he still had to meet up with Mattie and Leo, and Death had assigned him a few more souls.

Jack nudged Mei into a trot again. It was strange, in a way, not being acknowledged by spirits as well now, even when he was only a few feet away from them.

On the other hand, what's the difference?

He'd passed the bickering spirits and was just about to cue Mei to leap into the sky when he heard his name behind him. Startled, he brought Mei to a halt and turned her back around.

"Jack Frost?" Lilac said with a scoff. "He's not working with us; as far as I know the last anyone saw of him was when Pitch broke his staff and tossed him down some canyon at the South Pole."

Mei's ears went back. Jack grimaced at the memory of that day; more specifically of the pain the breaking of his staff had brought with it. His focus returned to the spirits just in time to see Bunny and Tooth's surprised faces.

"B…but Frost was… on Easter he had…,"

Lilac didn't give Bunny time to finish the sentence. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "Don't tell me you fell for that bunk. Pitch had to chase the frost sprite down, and Frost still wouldn't take the box. Pitch had to toss the thing at him and catch him by surprise, then dropped him through a shadow to you guys before Jack had time to blink."

Okay, he'd heard enough. Surprise, surprise, no one waited to hear what I had to say, Jack thought with an eye roll as Bunny again began sputtering protests. He dug his heels into Mei's sides and the mare leaped into the sky with an exuberant whinny.

Jack was surprised to see North that evening when he and Mei touched down in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The-former, Jack supposed- Guardian of Wonder was sitting on a bench at the edge of a small, sad-looking playground, looking more run-down than Jack had ever seen him. His cheeks were sunken and pale, his back and head were bowed, and his right hand rested on the hilt of one of his swords like it was a cane.

His eyes had a bit of a spark, though. Jack followed his gaze and immediately saw why.

There were kids on the playground. Only four, granted, but that was probably the most this place had seen in several months given… things. They were dressed for the weather, bundled up in hats and coats. And they were laughing, giggling and screaming with delight as they tumbled down slides slick with melted snow, splashed about in slush puddles and crawled under a dinosaur-shaped jungle gym.

Jack supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised. It was close to Christmas, after all.

The young Reaper guided Mei over to a small gazebo before dismounting, turning her loose to graze before lying on the picnic table under the roof.

Jack felt he was perfectly justified in being utterly surprised when Anubis suddenly appeared beside him. He actually almost fell off the table with a yell that would have woken a hibernating bear, while the jackal-headed deity grinned, showing off some very sharp teeth.

"Anubis! A bit of a warning would be nice!" Jack yelled, placing a hand over his heart.

"Oh, where is the fun in that?" Anubis said in his usual low cadence as he took a seat, spreading out a papyrus scroll covered in hieroglyphs.

Jack took a few seconds to examine the Egyptian god. He was wearing a casual dark blue suit rather than the robes and loincloth he wore while working. His headdress was also absent; Jack supposed it would get annoying, considering Anubis' ears.

"What the heck brought you all the way across the Atlantic?" Jack asked, taking a seat beside Anubis's paper and resting his feet on the bench.

"Isis and Osiris are arguing again, loudly enough that it's essentially impossible to get any work done," Anubis answered. A horsehair brush materialized in his clawed hand. An inkwell appeared as well, and Anubis dipped the tip of the brush in the ink before drawing a few more hieroglyphs at the bottom of the scroll.

"I thought recording the scale's results was Thoth's job," Jack said, though he couldn't actually read the glyphs.

"With the speed at which humans discover new things, Thoth is often abroad gathering whatever knowledge he can. Recording the results of the trials, among other things, has fallen to me."

"Couldn't Nephthys or Osiris help?"

Anubis snorted, not looking up from his work. "I don't trust Osiris to not mess with the balance; he plays favorites from time to time. Nephthys has become a bit… temperamental in recent centuries. She's liable to tear up a scroll or burn it, along with whatever unfortunate soul happens to be nearby."

"Ooh," Jack winced in sympathy. "Yeah, I remember Hades complaining about Zeus mucking things up. Have you asked Xibalba if he could help? Things are a bit quieter in Latin America, as far as I've heard."

"He and La Muerte are visiting China currently. I had considered joining them, but the Emperors of Youdu and Ten Masters say they have been having some trouble with the Monkey King. That and Xibalba's written ancient Egyptian is atrocious, though he speaks it well enough."

Jack laughed. "Oh, I am so telling him you said that! But why is the Monkey King bothering the death deities? I thought he preferred harassing the Jade Emperor."

"No one is certain yet; likely somebody made a bet with him."

It was Jack's turn to grin. "Xibalba or La Muerte, maybe?"

Anubis huffed a laugh. "They can't stand him long enough; both of them find his arrogance and constant pranks intolerable. I don't believe he even knows they're visiting."

"Oh, no! He'd better not tick off La Muerte!" Jack laughed. The Monkey King had a tendency to underestimate the Death Gods, especially the females. "I wonder why he hasn't bothered you yet."

"He knows what I did to Seth."

Jack felt a shudder go down his spine at the reminder. "Oh, yeah."

It was at that moment Pitch appeared at the opposite side of the park, barely twenty feet from North. The old Russian attempted to rise, shouting angrily, but Amaryllis popped up out of nowhere and shoved him back onto the bench.

The rest of the summer sprites arrived within seconds, laughing at North's furious expression. Alarmed, Jack's gaze turned to the playground. No children.

Jack located them quickly enough, huddled together under a copse of trees, surrounded by whinnying Nightmares.

Firming his jaw, Jack hopped off the table as he reduced his aspect.

"Oh, really, now. This is just pathetic," he said, ambling toward the spirits with his hands in his pockets and his head held high. Invisible to everyone but Anubis, Mei trotted over to his side.

The spirits' heads all snapped toward him, eyes wide, either curious or startled. Or both.

"Six of you, against one old man who can barely stand? What are you spirits coming to?" Jack went on, stopping a few yards from North and Amaryllis. "And ganging up on a bunch of six-year-olds? Come on. You can do better than that."

"Who the hell are you?" Freesia snarled, she and Leiron stepping forward in a manner they apparently thought threatening.

Jack laughed; he couldn't help it. For crying out loud, their stance, their expressions, their unsteady gazes, everything was horrid! Even standing this far off, he could knock them flat in about five seconds. War would rip them to shreds without even blinking.

"Oh, no one special," Jack said with a smile. Mei nosed his shoulder, snorting loudly in disapproval. Behind them they heard Anubis give a bark-literally a bark- of laughter.

Everyone except Anubis jumped in alarm when they heard the Nightmares screaming. Several jaws dropped when the black steeds broke away from the children, galloping full-tilt for the closest shadows and disappearing without a trace.

"Useless. Utterly useless," Anubis muttered. Judging by his tone, the Egyptian deity was quite annoyed at the commotion. Jack was laughing so hard his eyes were tearing up.

"Oh, you just can't catch a break these days," he said, wiping a tear from his eyelashes as the children sprinted out of the park. Anubis made a noise that sounded like agreement before trailing off into a string of ancient Egyptian, something that sounded like a combination of curses and complaints.

Jack returned his attention to the spirits to find them all staring at him; he wasn't going to lie, it was slightly gratifying to see the summer seasonals looking so worried. Poor North just looked exhausted and confused, but Pitch…

"I know you," the Bogeyman said, eyes narrowed. His voice was steady and his manner betrayed nothing, but the shadows twitching at his feet gave away his agitation.

"Not well, but yes," Jack agreed brightly.

"What the heck is wrong with your eyes?" Primrose snapped. Jack examined her for a second; she was shifting from foot to foot, fingers twitching.

"Nothing. They're just heterochromatic." Does she even know what that means?

Pitch's attention had immediately moved to his eyes at Primrose's comment. Jack just smiled as he met the Nightmare King's golden gaze, tilting his head just slightly.

They stayed that way for nearly a minute. Almost out of nowhere Pitch's eyes moved suddenly to his hair, and barely a second later they went wide.

"It can't be…," he said, mostly to himself. Pitch's eyes met the Reaper's once more, incredulous. "Jack Frost?"

Chapter Text

Chapter 23:

Jack had to work quite hard to keep a grin off his face at the sight the gaping spirits presented. Judging by the way she was stomping and shaking her head, Mei shared his view on the matter.

"Jack?" North asked after a good minute, leaning forward, eyes slightly narrowed. "Is… is it truly you?"

Jack shrugged, bringing his hands up in a sort of 'what can you do' gesture.

"Wh… how did…you… what?"

Amaryllis and Primrose both started sputtering at once while their cohorts continued to stare. Pitch did too, although his gaze was more searching than surprised now.

North, though… North looked far too much like a concerned parent for Jack to be comfortable.

"Jack, what happened to you?" the former Guardian asked, eyes and expression soft, scared and worried all at once.

"Oh, you know…," Jack paused for a long moment.

Then he grinned and shrugged. "Things."

Mei snorted loudly.

"That has to be the most blasé way I have heard someone refer to their own death," Anubis said from his bench. Jack's grin broadened.

Pitch's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, plainly annoyed. The spring spirits glared while North looked even more worried. Not what Jack had been hoping for, but it was really the best he was going to get.

"But, Jack… it has been almost two years. Where have you been?" North asked, leaning more heavily on his swords as though the effort exhausted him.

"Here and there. All over, really," Jack said, crossing his own arms, bending one knee and tilting his head just so. His grin never left his face.

"How is that… nobody's seen you!" Lilac blurted. "Nobody's seen you since that Easter!"

Jack laughed. "Of course they didn't. I didn't want them to."

This, of course, only served to confuse the spirits while Anubis snickered as he worked.

"Well, nice as this chat has been, I honestly have better things to be doing with my time. I bid you adieu, and I will see you on the other side!" Jack said, turning and raising his hand in a mocking wave as he expanded his aspect.

The wave of nightmare sand that rose to engulf him wasn't entirely unexpected, but at that point Jack's Reaper aspect had swelled enough that it passed right through him. And when it subsided, he was completely invisible to the spirits.

"You didn't," War said, delighted when Jack relayed his tale to her as they and their steeds stood in the sky over Rabat, Morocco.

"I did," Jack laughed. "Man, I don't think I've ever seen anyone so confused. Although Anubis probably didn't get as much work done as he'd have liked."

"Nephthys will help him when she's in the mood. Did you gather the rest of those souls?" War asked.

"Yeah. Do you know where Death is?"

"Realm of the Dead, talking to Hades, I think," War said. "Apollo's been harassing him and Persephone; Death offered assistance."

Jack grinned. "He's going to give them some death hounds, isn't he?"

War cackled. "Black Shuck's already said he'd help, and I don't doubt there'll be others. At least this way Zeus can't complain about it."

"Why should he? Apollo started it."

"He's biased."

"Of course he is," Jack snorted. "Did Persephone ever manage to convince Demeter to let her nymphs help with the demon hunting, speaking of the Greeks?"

"No, but Persephone spoke with the nymphs and they're helping anyway," War said, smirking.

Jack laughed. "That sounds like Persephone."

"Indeed."

Jack and War both turned in their saddles to face Death, mounted on his own steed and having apparently materialized out of thin air.

"She has also gotten fairly riled over the past few weeks and has more than once attempted to lure Apollo into a ghoul or demon nest," Death said.

If Jack had still had blood, he had the feeling it would have drained out of his face. War and her horse laughed.

"How is he not in pieces at this point?" War said when she'd gotten enough breath back.

"Hades stopped her. Barely, the last time, and I believe he's regretting it," Death said. "Frankly, I wouldn't mind reaping Apollo. He's gotten increasingly irritating over the past few centuries."

Jack felt a grin creeping across his face. "He's been writing crappy songs and poems again, hasn't he?"

"And singing them at the top of his lungs as he rides across the sky in that damned chariot of his. I swear, he could drive a golden retriever to murder," Death said, his horse tossing his head and snorting in agreement.

Jack laughed while Mei whickered in amusement. "Good thing he's never met Xibalba."

"Unfortunate, in my current opinion," Death said. Jack and War snickered again.

A whistling noise below alerted them to the Wind's arrival second before a massive chilled gust engulfed them. Jack laughed while Mei whickered and pranced, both of them decreasing their aspects enough for their old friend to ruffle hair, mane and clothes. The Wind cooed (it was a mystery to everyone else present exactly how she managed to do so), a bittersweet sort of sound.

The Horsemen decreased their own aspects when Wind lingered. War laughed when several tiny gusts tugged at her hair.

"Heya, honey!" the Red Horseman greeted. "Long time no see!"

Wind whistled exuberantly, moving to whirl around the Pale Horseman and steed. Death tilted his head in acknowledgement, and the Wind whistled again before going back to Jack.

"Wait, what?" Jack said. The Wind circled him again, humming lowly.

"The Guardians are looking for me? Why?" Jack asked, making a face in War's direction.

"Well, you probably freaked the hell out of North, though I'm wondering how he managed to contact the others," War said.

Jack grimaced. Mei whinnied, tossing her head at him.

"I know," Jack said, scratching her neck for a moment. He looked at Death. "Do you have any new assignments for me?"

"Nothing urgent," Death answered.

"Oh, for crying out loud, you're going to talk to them? Why?" War said. Her horse snorted and stomped his agreement.

Jack shrugged. "Couldn't hurt. Besides, they might have seen something."

War snorted. "Yeah. Sure. Kick the kangaroo for me, would you?"

Jack laughed. "Will do."

He found the Guardians in a small park in Buena Vista, Colorado. He guided Mei down into a small grassy field next to a playset, keeping himself invisible as Mei trotted closer to the cluster of spirits.

"What do you mean, changed?" Tooth was saying, sounding rather shrill. "Is he okay?"

"I tell you Tooth, I do not know," North said; he was once again sitting on a bench. "He looked much different; I did not even realize it was him until Pitch said his name."

"And you said he just vanished?" Bunny asked, incredulous.

"Disappeared into thin air," North said, waving a hand for emphasis. "There, wave of black sand, then gone. Poof."

Jack rolled his eyes.

"You sure Pitch didn't get him?" Bunny said.

North shook his head. "Pitch just as surprised as rest."

Oo-kay, Jack did not want them speculating about this much longer.

He reduced his aspect enough to make himself and Mei visible, slowing her to a walk. Mei whinnied, drawing all attention straight to them.

"Frost?" Bunny said, eyes going comically wide.

"Hey, Bunny," Jack replied as he dismounted. "Nice look."

Bunny didn't respond to the jab, which was a little alarming. Jack rested a hand on Mei's neck, trying to ignore the concern in the rabbit's eyes.

"Jack?" Tooth said, brow furrowed slightly as she took a shaky step forward. She managed two more before she tripped. Well, collapsed would be a more accurate descriptor.

Jack quickly stepped forward and caught her, purely on reflex. And the second he touched her, he had to focus very abruptly on not dropping her.

He could feel her, see her in a way he shouldn't be able to sense one of the Moon's spirits. Admittedly what he was reading was far fainter than anything he'd pick up from a dead soul, but…

Oh.

She was fading, and with a start Jack realized North and Bunny were probably in a similar position.

Then the worry he could feel in Tooth claimed his focus and he drew her closer, using his aspect to ease the agitation. He couldn't do it anywhere near as well as Death, but he could tell it worked when Tooth relaxed a bit.

Then she hugged him with what felt like bone-shattering strength and Jack was very glad he didn't need to breathe.

"Jack, I'm so happy to see you! When we found out about Pitch we were so worried, we thought he might have…,"

"Tooth! I kinda like my spine in one piece, thank you very much!" Jack wheezed, squeezing the fairy's shoulders to get her attention.

"Oh! Oh, ha, I'm sorry, I'm just…," Tooth said, stepping back with a sheepish smile, rubbing her arm awkwardly. Jack smiled back and she relaxed. Sort of.

"Frost, what did… I mean, what's happened to you, mate?" Bunny asked, hopping on top of the picnic table North was sitting on to get a better look at Jack.

"Things," Jack said, shrugging again. "Ow!" he yelled, giving Mei an incredulous look when she swatted the back of his head with her tail. She snorted at him, raising her head and giving him a look of her own.

"Jack, please…," North said, leaning forward like he intended to stand.

Jack huffed, raising a hand to stop him. "Yes, things have happened, but I do not want to discuss them with you. And I ask that you respect that," he said, a little bit sharply when he saw Tooth opening her mouth. She closed it, but none of the spirits looked at all happy.

Then Bunny took a miniscule hop forward, standing up on his hind legs.

"Jack," he said, ears drooping. "I… it's… I…"

Jack blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry."

Jack felt both eyebrows climbing his forehead. Next to him, Mei stomped and snorted.

"I'm sorry about… about that Easter… about what happened," Bunny said, paws and nose twitching, looking like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to look at Jack or the ground. "I shouldn't have just blamed ya like that. I should've listened to ya."

"We all should have," Tooth interjected. North nodded his assent.

"An' I shouldn't have thrown that punch. Stars, I don' know what I was thinking, I just… I feel like the biggest bloomin' idiot on the planet, and I'm sorry, Jack," Bunny said, managing to finally hold Jack's eyes.

And he was sorry. Jack could feel it, feel his regret; he felt it in all of them.

"We were foolish. Upset and stupid," North said, shaking his head. "Condemned you without even letting you speak. Bezrassudstvo!"

Jack blinked in surprise when the spirit managed to bang his swords against the ground. Then North smiled wanly at him. "We should have trusted in Man in Moon. In you."

Jack's lips thinned, as did his eyes.

"Yeah. If he say's you're Guardian material," Bunny paused, looking Jack up and down. It looked like he was smiling. "Who knows? You might make a bleedin' good one."

Jack laughed. He didn't mean to but… really? And oh, it was not like his old laughs, when he was a spirit, carefree and riding the Wind across the globe, in those moments when nothing mattered but the lightness in his chest and the smiles on people's faces. This was dry, it was bitter and frustrated and oh, so pained.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jack said with a hard smile. "But it's a bit late for all of that."

The spirits' collective flinch was more gratifying than he'd care to admit.

The Wind whistled through the trees suddenly, swirling around Jack and Mei and nearly knocking Bunny off the table.

'Demons in Sleepy Hollow! Klaus needs help! Hurry!'

Muttering a curse under his breath, Jack leaped into the saddle. Mei was already turning.

"Jack! Wait!" Tooth called.

"Sorry! Work to do! Can't wait! Bye!" Jack yelled, not even looking back as he kicked Mei into a skyward gallop.

Famine and Solriss had reached the Hollow before Jack, who arrived just in time to guide Mei to land right smack on top of the last of the attackers; a Wendigo. There was the ear-shattering sound of breaking bone and the creature screamed. Mei snatched the thing's balding head in her teeth and hauled it up. Jack leaned down and neatly cut through its neck with his scythe. Well, the ones the lesser Reapers carried were really more like giant sickles, but they did the job just fine. Jack had never seen Death's scythe, and he hoped he never saw the occasion the entity deemed it necessary to use the thing.

"Not bad," Klaus said in heavily accented English, nodding approvingly as Jack righted himself. Daredevil snorted in amusement while Jack smiled wryly.

"You would know, I guess," Jack said. The ghost smirked.

"Aw, did we miss everything?" War asked (whined, but Jack would never say that to her face), she and her horse appearing apparently out of nowhere with a human-looking Death and his steed right beside them. The Red Horseman surveyed the bloody mess that was their surroundings, looking quite disappointed. The Red horse, meanwhile, lowered his head to investigate a severed arm. And promptly stomped on it, snorting happily.

Death and his horse shared a look and subsequently rolled their eyes. Jack, Solriss and Famine grinned at each other while Klaus gently steadied Daredevil, who was giving the Red steed an uneasy eye.

"Hey, Jack, how'd your talk with the Guardians go?" War asked suddenly, turning her attention to the former frost sprite.

Jack gave a smile that was really more of a grimace. "About as well as you'd expect, I suppose."

"Did you kick the kangaroo?" War asked.

"I… what? No!"

"Why not? He's basically the size of a soccer ball! It's perfect!" War said incredulously. Her horse bobbed his head, baring his dagger-like teeth as he did.

"He apologized. For… you know, that Easter, anyway. I would've felt bad," Jack said, absently patting Mei's neck. "I mean, I did kind of want to smack the lot of them for being so stupid, but…," Jack paused.

After several seconds of silence, he said, "they're fading."

Everyone present exchanged looks. No one seemed too surprised.

Jack looked to Death. "How long do they have?" he asked.

"As things are going now, not long at all," Death answered. "They won't see the turn of the season, if nothing changes."

Silence reigned again for several minutes, the only sounds the occasional stomp, snort or switching of tails.

"What if we did change that?" Jack said suddenly.

This was met with incredulous looks from everyone. Except Death; Jack looked at him curiously. Death smiled back, miniscule though it was. Jack grinned at him.

"You already know where I'm going with this, don't you?" he said.

Death's smile widened. Looking between them, War suddenly groaned and slumped over her horse's neck.

"You want to help the bastards, don't you?" she muttered into her horse's mane.

"It makes sense, strategically if nothing else," Death said, raising an eyebrow at War's groan. "With fear and mistrust so prevalent, most demon species have significant advantage in a fight."

"I know, but they suck," War complained, her horse whickering agreement.

"Yes, well, any port in a storm," Famine said while Solriss and Klaus exchanged a sour look.

Then Solriss sighed. "I'll see if I can find Morrigan and Hela, see if they would be willing to round up some ghosts."

"I'll see what I can do," Klaus said, thickened accent hinting at his displeasure. Jack grinned at Daredevil's pouting stomp.

"Fine," War said with an eye-roll. "If we got everyone going on Halloween, we can do it again."

"Aww, War!" Jack said, placing a hand over his heart in an exaggerated gesture of surprise. "You do care!"

Less than a second later he and Mei were galloping away, whinnying and laughing as the Red Horseman and her steed charged after them with an indignant yell.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24:

It took, in Jack's mind, surprisingly little effort to get the other Reapers to agree to the plan. Well, maybe agree wasn't the right word. Comply was better; there had definitely been quite a bit of grumbling. Nonetheless, everyone had gone to convey the message to the Death Gods and any ghosts or fae they thought would be willing to assist.

Jack himself had discussed a few plans with Klaus, who was more amenable to the idea than Jack had expected given his earlier behavior. The Hessian had been protecting his town from the Nightmares quite admirably, though, so he would have a bit less trouble than the rest of Death's forces.

Believing the Headless Horseman had things well under control in his neck of the woods, Jack and Mei began traveling across North and Central America, gathering intelligence and devising strategies with the spirits and Reapers. Everyone wanted to take advantage of the current lack of demon activity, so things got moving quite quickly.

It was the same all around the globe. Ghosts of most every kind volunteered readily enough, as did many Unseelie fae; they in turn were supervised by the Reapers, who would relay messages about their progress up the chain of command to Death and the Horsemen.

One of the main issues was keeping such a large-scale operation under wraps; the last thing they wanted was the Moon's spirits (chatty bunch that they were), and thus the demons, getting wind of what was going on, which was why Death had instructed the Reapers not to involve themselves with living humans directly if it could be avoided. There was little confrontation on that front, however; most Reapers were happy to just be working at a larger pushback rather than being stuck at a stalemate or, worse, caught on the defensive.

Jack was heading back south, having just flown over the US-Canadian border into Montana, when a noise to his right caught his attention.

He was surprised when he saw several Nightmares, galloping hard in an effort to keep up with Mei. Jerking his gaze back to the left showed a similar situation on that side.

"Really?" Jack yelled to no one in particular, digging his heels into Mei's sides. She snorted, leaping forward and lengthening her stride, kicking her heels up at the Nightmares in challenge.

Jack laughed as they began to pull ahead. "Atta girl, Mei! You show 'em how a real horse runs!"

Mei whinnied and sped up again, Jack lowering his hands to give her more rein; they started gaining ground much more quickly.

It came as no big shock when a third troop of the creatures came at them from above.

Jack drove Mei into a hard dive toward the ground; there were no trees, and they were far from any large towns, so there was no cover to be had.

It really shouldn't have been so surprising when a gigantic shadow appeared out of nowhere and swallowed them both.

"Oh, come on, not again!" Jack yelled at nobody in particular as he and Mei tumbled through nothingness, gripping his horse's mane as she whinnied furiously.

They hit the ground hard; Jack was thrown from the saddle as Mei fell, tucking his head into his chest as best he could as he rolled. He landed on his stomach, eyes screwed shut and dust in his mouth.

"Mei!" Jack called, spitting to clear his mouth and brushing dust off his face as he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled a few paces once he'd stood; he was still dizzy from the fall.

He heard the rush of displaced air to his right and stepped sideways to avoid Leiron's punch. As the Summer spirit sailed past him Jack stuck out his foot, tripping the sprite with a startled yell and sending him sprawling face down on the rock floor.

Primrose and Amaryllis came at him next, from opposite sides. Jack lightly gripped Amaryllis's wrist as the spirit threw a punch at his face, stepping back and directing the other's arm downward so his fist landed solidly in Primrose's stomach rather than Jack's face. Primrose was immediately doubled over, wheezing, and Jack used Amaryllis's hunched posture to his advantage, whacking the spirit over the back of the shoulders with his left arm and sending him face-down into the dirt next to his brother. Jack then hooked his ankle around a still-winded Primrose's and dragged her foot backward and up, sending her toppling forward.

Freesia and Lilac, when they came at him, lasted about as long and fared no better.

I'm amazed I ever saw these guys as a threat, Jack thought to himself as he turned from the groaning heap of spirits on the floor toward his horse, who had managed to stand and shake the dust off. Once she'd spotted him Mei whickered and trotted quickly over, Jack stepping forward to meet her. His smile became a full one when she reached him, reaching up and rubbing gently between her eyes as she began sniffing him all over, sounding almost frantic.

Jack laughed when a particularly hard sniff was accompanied by a shove to his waist. "I'm fine, girl, really! See? All in one piece!"

Mei snorted, moving her gaze to the still-stunned Summer seasonals before stomping furiously and pinning her ears.

Jack laughed, stroking her neck and gathering the reins in his hand as he moved to mount.

A large shadow swelled up before him.

Jack and Mei leaped apart, Mei whinnying as Jack jumped backward again when the shadow lunged for him, missing him by mere inches as it dove into the floor. Several more shadows rose between the two, pushing them further and further apart and driving Jack to perform increasingly elaborate acrobatics to avoid them.

Jack eventually ended up on the opposite side of the vast cavern from Mei; the summer spirits had at that point made it back to their feet and were standing in the middle, snickering amongst each other as they watched Jack and his steed leap about.

A movement from the corner of his eye was the only indication Jack had; he ducked quickly out of the way of Pitch's attack. The Bogeyman didn't seem to mind; actually, he was grinning as Jack jumped away from him, keeping his knees bent, holding his hands up in a defensive position in case Pitch came at him again.

Which he did, less than a second later, with an absolutely gigantic shadow looming up behind him. Jack had no choice but to dodge again, using a quick flare of his aspect to move behind Pitch in the space of an eyeblink. Before Pitch could realized what happened, Jack delivered a powerful kick to the small of his back that sent the wiry spirit flying with a surprised yell.

And then the summer spirits were joining in again and Jack had never been more grateful for the training he'd done with War over the centuries. He was also glad Solriss, Famine and Death had insisted he learn to hone the 'life-energy' perception that came with being a Reaper early on; even if he couldn't see the spirits, he could at least maintain some sense of their positions.

This skill was proving most useful with Pitch at the moment, who seemed content to let the seasonals do most of the fighting while he leapt from the shadows now and again.

A furious, trumpeting whinny announced Mei's entrance into the fray; Jack leaped upward as his steed charged in with a mien that would have made the Red steed proud, bowling over Amaryllis and Primrose before they could get out of the way. She grabbed Freesia's sleeve in her teeth, dragging the spirit off her feet and throwing her into Leiron, sending them both flying into a wall. The mare didn't even pause, grabbing the back of Lilac's shirt as the spirit went to leap at Jack and shaking vigorously. Jack would have laughed at Lilac's startled shout if he hadn't had to dodge another shadow.

"Pitch, what the hell do you want?" Jack yelled, glancing around the room. The Bogeyman had disappeared again; Jack could tell he was hiding in the shadows on the near wall, but he wasn't practiced enough to be able to pinpoint the exact location.

Mei snorted, dropping a very dizzy Lilac on top of the still-groaning Amaryllis and Primrose as a chuckle echoed around the chamber.

"Why, simply a chat, Frost; we haven't seen each other in so long. I was hoping to catch up." Pitch's voice was echoing everywhere, just as his laugh had, but Jack could tell the spirit himself was still in the nearby shadows. He was moving, though, going…

Jack leaned to his left and spun about, dodging Pitch's attack and grabbing the surprised Bogeyman's wrist and dragging it down. Jack stuck out his foot, causing Pitch to trip and go tumbling forward. It would have been immensely satisfying to see him crash into the floor, but his reflexes were good enough that he was able to summon a portal and disappear into the shadows a second before impact.

Jack was already moving; he'd made it over to Mei in a couple large bounds, the mare bending her right foreleg to make it easier for him to swing into the saddle. Once he had, Jack grabbed the reins, turning her to the left toward a hole in the cavern ceiling. Jack barely even needed to nudge her before Mei was springing into the air at a gallop.

Seeing the shadows swelling before them, Jack expanded his Reaper aspect; if any of the shadows reached them, they would pass right through.

He needn't have worried. Mei was a deathsteed; she moved impossibly fast. They reached the tunnel in less than a second and were dashing upward in an eyeblink. Jack expanded his aspect even further; by the time he and Mei had reached the surface, they were invisible to all living eyes.

Jack nudged Mei skyward; she snorted loudly, as if to say good riddance. Jack laughed.

"Couldn't agree more, girl!" he said, tugging gently on the reins to slow her to a canter. Mei switched pace smoothly, tossing her head. Jack glanced over his shoulder in time to see Pitch emerge from a shadow that had formed at the mouth of his lair. The Bogeyman's head turned slowly as he watched the sky, no doubt searching for his escaped quarry.

Jack snickered to himself as he turned Mei toward the southeast. "That ought to keep him puzzled for a while."

"What took you so long?" Pestilence asked as Jack and Mei landed in the main plaza of Torreón in Coahuila, Mexico.

"Pitch decided to waylay us for a 'chat', as he put it, in Montana. He sent a herd of Nightmares after us, had them chase us into his lair," Jack answered as he threw his hood back and looked around. A few of the other Reapers in Pestilence's contingent smiled or waved to him while their horses stomped and snorted their own greetings. Jack grinned back, then exhaled heavily. "Man, I would've roasted here as a frost spirit!" he said, fanning his face with a hand while Mei snorted in laughter beneath him.

"Just increase your aspect; you won't feel the temperature," another Reaper said.

Jack smiled. "Thanks, Madrik, but… I kind of like it, truth be told."

"Masochist," Aditi muttered loudly. The other Reapers laughed.

Then Pestilence raised his arm, gesturing for silence, and everyone immediately guided their horses to gather around him and his mount.

"All right, we're in charge of North and Mesoamerica. Nikoleta, your team is southernmost, in Panama and Costa Rica. Nakh-ke and Somowadi, your groups are in Nicaragua and Honduras, respectively. Piscia, you have Guatemala, El Salvador and Belize; you'll be with them, Jack. Adeia and Ivanildo, you're both in Mexico. We'll be working our way north eventually. The Death Gods and their servants have been passing word down the grapevine for the past day; I'm told the ghosts are already waiting for us. I'll remind you the ghosts are the ones doing the legwork; we are just helping them be seen. Avoid interacting with living humans if at all possible, and do NOT let any demons catch wind of you or learn what the ghosts under your guard are up to. Same with the ghouls. Be warned many of these spirits are centuries old; I'd recommend making certain they know precisely which tales they're supposed to be telling."

The Reapers shared looks with each other, most of them grimacing. Tooth mice and rabbits were fine (Jack was sure if any of Tooth's servants were still active they'd quite appreciate it), but the last thing they needed was some of the more forgetful ghosts accidentally telling the story of the eyeball-eating variety of sandman.

"Everyone's already split off into their groups? Yes? Leaders, you've done a headcount?" Pestilence said. As the team leaders nodded their assent, he went on, "good. Once you've reached your stations, assign one or two messengers to relay information back to me as needed. Switch roles as necessary. Move quickly, and be discreet. I don't need to remind you how much we have riding on this."

More nods of understanding, a few murmurs of agreement here and there. Pestilence nodded once himself.

"Good luck; I will leave you to your tasks. Jack, wait a moment, if you would."

Puzzled, Jack guided Mei closer to Pestilence and his mount as the other Reapers kicked their steeds into the sky. He smiled reassuringly at Aditi and Madrik, who cast worried looks his way as they went. Once everyone else was gone, Pestilence nudged his horse forward and closed the distance between the two of them.

"Jack, do you have any idea what Pitch wanted from you?" the White Horseman asked, gazing into Jack's eyes with a look Jack found unusually… intense, though his face was expressionless as ever.

Jack shook his head. "No. He never said anything about what he wanted; just that he thought it was time for a 'chat.'" After a moment's pause, he added, "the Summer spirits were with him. You think they'd know? I could scare it out of one of them easily enough."

Jack might have imagined it, but was that just the slightest curl at the edge of Pestilence's mouth? "I doubt Pitch has told them anything of note," the Horseman answered. "Keep an eye out for them, however, and any other of the Moon's ilk who may have fallen in with him. If he wants you badly enough to have a herd of Nightmares and the Summer seasonals on hand to apprehend you, he will likely attempt it again."

The former frost sprite grimaced. "I know. I was planning on just… keeping my aspect up for a while, keep myself invisible to them. I don't want to be watching out for both Pitch's minions and the demons."

Pestilence gave a curt nod. "Likely the safest course of action, at this point. I would expect trouble from that quarter, regardless."

Jack felt a grin creeping across his face before he could stop it. "Are you worried about me, Pestilence?"

The exasperated look in the White Horseman's eyes was one Jack had seen more than once (more often than not he was the cause of it). "For the life of me I cannot fathom why."

"Awww, you do care!"

"I will neither confirm nor deny such, and it will remain so until my dying day."

"Technically, you're not alive."

"Exactly."

Jack blinked for a moment. Then, laughing so hard his sides almost hurt, he kicked Mei into a skyward gallop, turning her south after the other Reapers. Mei whinnied along, kicking up her heels exuberantly as she caught up to the tail end of the herd.

"Piscia! Somebody needs to tell Death the end is nigh! Pestilence just made a joke!" Jack called, still laughing.

The other Reapers immediately cracked up, several cracking their own jokes as they rode along. Jack started laughing even harder, almost falling out of his saddle, when he heard Madrik yell back at him, "damnit, Jack, you've doomed us all!"

Chapter Text

Chapter 25:

Things got pretty hectic after that. Despite the fact that ghosts would consistently lose their memories the longer they remained in the living world without passing on, they all seemed to know they did not like demons. Or the demons' boss.

Long story short the Reapers had no shortage of recruits for this particular mission. Thankfully the more stable ghosts were able to manage a lot of things on their own; some of them had even taken to helping supervise their comrades.

Jack in particular was very grateful for this; he was having enough trouble both making the ghosts visible to all the humans passing by and keeping an eye out for Pitch's minions. Thankfully the Summer sprites were notably absent; undoubtedly they figured he couldn't be this close to the equator. The Nightmares, on the other hand, were everywhere.

Piscia and Aditi were helpful in that regard. Piscia had given each Reaper in her charge a patch of ground to cover, with orders to keep the ghosts visible and draw away any demons who might be getting too close. Aditi, who had been assigned to a patch next to Jack, would send a black butterfly to tell him when she'd spotted a herd of Nightmares approaching or if a spirit allied with Pitch was in the area. Which was getting annoyingly common as the days wore on.

It was about an hour after sunset on November 18 that found Jack riding Mei down the main street of a quiet neighborhood in Sonsonate, El Salvador. Despite it being late fall, the slight breeze blowing was hot and dry. Normally Jack didn't mind this; after centuries of not being able to visit the tropics Jack loved the experience of heat and humidity. But it could wear on even him after a while; he was giving serious consideration to galloping up to the mountains for a bit. According to Madrik it was slightly cooler at higher elevations.

Mei came to a sudden stop and whickered beneath him, drawing Jack's attention. She was staring straight ahead, ears pricked. Looking ahead himself, Jack blinked in surprise upon seeing a ghostly black horse, blending almost perfectly with the surrounding shadows. There was a figure astride it; not Famine, it was too tall and too broad. It was completely clad in black; black gloves, black boots, pants, tunic, coat and hat. Jack blinked when he realized that the figure had no head; the hat was floating on what appeared to be a column of thin smoke, above two pale gray-blue eyes.

"That must be the Just Judge," Jack muttered to Mei, eyeing the spirit from the corner of his eye. He'd never met him in person, but he'd heard a little bit about him from the other Reapers. Apparently he didn't interact with them that much.

It was much to Jack's surprise, then, when the spirit nudged his horse into a trot toward him and Mei.

Jack sat straighter in the saddle as the dark figure drew his horse to a stop beside Mei, at a distance that allowed the horses to sniff inquiringly at one another.

"You are the Reaper who was formerly Jack Frost?"

Jack blinked. The voice was surprisingly deep, but quiet, speaking with a noticeable Spanish accent. He hadn't seen a mouth move. Actually, he hadn't seen a mouth at all, but the words were plain enough.

"I am," Jack answered slowly, studying the Judge.

The Judge nodded, a black gloved hand reaching up and touching the rim of his hat briefly. "Good evening, señor."

"Hello," Jack responded as Mei, finally satisfied with her inspection of the Judge's horse, tossed her head and whickered her own greeting. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you know me? 'Cause I'm pretty certain we've never met."

"Many of us ghosts know of you," the Judge answered. Jack got the impression that if he had a mouth, the spirit was smiling. "Your story is quite famous to those who travel in the same circles as the Horsemen and Reapers."

Jack blinked. "Really? I mean, I knew about the Reapers, of course, and a lot of the North American and European ghosts know me, but..."

"The story of how you came to be what you were is a rather... what is the word? Spectacular example of failed necromancy," the Judge said, voice becoming low and distinctly furious at the end of the sentence. Jack felt his eyebrows climbing his forehead when the Judge's left hand fell to his hip; the Reaper nearly jerked in surprised when he saw the black leather whip coiled there. "There is a reason resurrection is considered a particularly egregious crime amongst the dead."

"Tell me about it," Jack muttered, eyeing the spirit's whip hand.

The spirit seemed to have noticed; he appeared to gather himself for a moment before his hand fell to rest on his thigh.

"I suppose I didn't realize how big a deal it was at the time," Jack said. "Not that I had any point of reference or anything, really, but if Death hadn't been there..."

The Judge nodded. Well, the hat did, so Jack assumed that was what had happened.

"Death takes his duty seriously, and he does it well. He keeps to his word. We all respect him for that," the Judge said.

Jack nodded his agreement, a small smile blooming on his face. "I remember thinking he could be harsh, when I first became a Reaper. Then I realized he was just being honest about what I am now, about what he is, about what I would have to learn to accept. And he was... before I became a Reaper, before I even knew who he was, he was so patient with me. I could rant or chatter on about anything and everything under the sun and he would just sit and listen. And then when I did find out who he was, who Famine and Solriss and everyone was, I didn't speak to him for years. I was actively avoiding all of them for a while, actually, but I could still kind of... sense whenever he was close. He never once tried to approach me, never tried to explain himself, and for a while I wondered why. Finally I realized he didn't want to push me; he was going to wait until I was comfortable enough to approach him. And he could wait forever if he needed to. Not like time's an issue for him."

Realizing how long he’d been speaking, Jack grinned. “Sorry for the rant.”

The Judge chuckled. “No trouble.”

“Mi amigos!” came a call from behind the Judge. The Judge turned his horse while Jack leaned to the right so he could see around him. He smiled when he saw what looked to be a large, conical straw hat with legs running at them.

“Buenos noches, El Cipitio!” Jack laughed as the hat tipped back to reveal a paunchy, dark-skinned boy who looked to be no older than nine or ten. He was centuries older, of course, and one of the more famous of El Salvador’s spirits. And given the way he was grinning (and the Judge sighing), he’d just gotten through playing another joke on some unsuspecting human.

Cipitio had almost reached them when a large black shadow welled up in front of the tiny spirit. When it subsided, a large Nightmare was standing in front of him, snorting threateningly.

Jack and the Judge were immediately on alert. The Judge drew his whip from his belt, though he kept it coiled loosely in his hand for the moment. Jack summoned his scythe, holding it loosely in his right hand as he gripped the reins in his left.

Cipitio, though, just smiled and gestured surreptitiously for them to relax. They didn’t, but they didn’t move to attack, either.

“Buenos noches, señor caballo!” Cipitio said. “I am afraid I cannot stop to play with you! I have jokes to plan and friends to meet!”

“Well then, I’m certain you won’t mind meeting with me, Cipitio.”

Jack bristled at the familiar voice, as did Mei.

Cipitio turned and, presumably, grinned at the newcomer. “Ah, good evening, Señor Bogeyman!” he said. “What brings dear old Pitch Black to Sonsonate this fine night?”

Jack was wondering that, too. He was also wondering a few other things.

“They know each other?” Jack whispered to the Judge as Pitch glowered down at the much shorter spirit.

“In passing, truly,” the Judge answered, also keeping his voice low. “Pitch would assist Cipitio in the occasional prank or vice versa, but the last time they truly interacted beyond the level of acquaintances was nearly five centuries ago.”

Jack was about to open his mouth to ask another question, but his attention was drawn to the other’s conversation when he heard Pitch say his name. Jack hadn’t caught the question, but…

“Jack Frost?” Cipitio said, frowning. Barely a second later he perked back up. “Oh. He’s dead.”

Jack guffawed before he could stop himself, covering his mouth with the back of his right hand to muffle his snickers.

Pitch glared down at the much smaller spirit. “No, he isn’t. I saw him just a few days ago, sprightly and annoying as he ever was.”

El Cipitio threw his head back and laughed, loud and raucous. Pitch’s glare intensified. The Nightmare pinned its ears and lunged, aiming to catch the little spirit in its teeth.

Cipitio disappeared a moment before it could grab him, his laughter still echoing around the street.

“Are you sure we are speaking about the same person, Señor?” Cipitio asked. He’d reappeared in a tree between two houses on the south side of the street, sitting on a branch, leaning against the trunk. He’d removed his hat and was tossing it up and catching it.

Pitch, meanwhile, was back to glowering.

“I am not in the mood for jokes, Cipitio. I know you still enjoy listening to all the gossip that comes down the spirits’ grapevine. What have you heard about Jack Frost?”

“I just told you; he’s dead.”

“Cheeky little diablo,” the Judge muttered, irritated but grudgingly impressed, by the sound of it.

“Really?” Pitch said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “And how, pray tell, did he die?”

Cipitio shrugged, picking a stray leaf out of his hat. “You’d have to ask him. That’s a bit of a personal question; I’d hate to be rude and spill it to you if he hasn’t told you about it.”

Pitch snarled, stance becoming instantly more threatening. “Cipitio, I have restrained myself because of our old friendship. If, however, you continue to persist in this ridiculous…”

The Judge moved so quickly Jack didn’t even see it. One moment Pitch was standing in the middle of the street threatening Cipitio, the next he was on the ground, spitting dirt out of his mouth, the Judge’s whip wrapped around his left ankle. The Nightmare had already been dispatched by a lightning-fast crack of that same whip.

“You will leave this place, Pitch Black,” the Judge said. Jack jumped at the change in his tone; his voice was certainly louder, but it was also… declarative, so full of authority one would just assume that what he said was so. The Judge nudged his horse forward. Pitch turned, incredulous, but his expression quickly became puzzled when he saw the newcomer. As the Judge and his horse advanced, the bogeyman rolled onto his back, bracing his arms beneath his shoulders as he pushed himself backward a few inches.

“The nights here belong to me,” the Judge said.

Whatever sense Pitch may have developed in the preceding seconds vanished at those words. He glared, leaping to his feet. “Who do you think…”

Again, Jack didn’t even see the Judge move. But he must have, because in the next instant Pitch was shouting in pain, pressing his hand over a bleeding cut that stretched across the entirety of his left cheek.

“Leave this place, miscreant,” the Judge ordered, his horse snorting a warning. “Or you will leave at sunrise, in ribbons.”

“Ooh, you’d better leave, amigo, he’s serious!” Cipitio called from his treetop, somehow managing to sound both warning and cheerful at the same time. “You don’t mess with the Just Judge, friend!”

Pitch’s eyes narrowed, the shadows behind him lengthening and darkening.

One loomed up behind the Judge. Jack opened his mouth to shout a warning, but no sound made it past his lips before an expert flick of the Judge’s wrist had the whip snapping backwards. The crack echoed all up and down the length of the street, sending a shudder down Jack’s spine. To the Reaper’s surprise, it seemed to have a similar effect on Pitch’s shadows; they immediately shrank back from the Judge, many of them just shrinking in general. Some vanished altogether.

Jack felt his eyebrows climbing his forehead. Hearing Mei’s amused whicker, he moved his eyes back to Pitch and almost laughed. The Bogeyman’s eyes were so wide they looked like they could pop out of his head at any moment.

“Your power and mine are of different planes, Nightmare King,” the Judge said. He moved his hand, twirling the whip casually, yet in a way that was somehow just-this-side of threatening, while his horse raised his head, ears pinned back. “Begone, lest you wish to fall under my judgement. I can assure you it will not be kind.”

Jack whistled quietly between his teeth. Mei whickered her agreement, tail switching. Pitch was glaring at the Judge with such intensity Jack found himself thinking a human who found themselves on the receiving end of such a look from the Bogeyman himself would’ve suffered a fatal heart attack from the sheer terror of it.

Then a shadow flared up behind Pitch, and the next second he was gone.

Silence fell for several seconds.

Then Cipitio sighed. “Well, that was anticlimactic. I was hoping for a bit more… how you say, Jack, chutzpah, from our old amigo there.”

Jack laughed. “Of course you did.”

“Jack!”

Jack turned his head to see Piscia and Aditi galloping down toward them. The two Reapers reined their steeds to a halt shortly after landing, Piscia bringing her dun stallion down barely five feet from Mei’s nose.

“Are you alright?” Piscia asked, examining Jack and the scene critically. “We heard from a couple of our charges that Pitch was in the area, and that he was near you. What happened?”

“I’m fine; I had my aspect up enough that he couldn’t sense me. Besides, the Judge and Cipitio were both here,” Jack said, gesturing to his two companions. Cipitio smiled and waved his hat, while the Judge simply dipped his invisible head briefly. “The Judge drove him off.”

Piscia nodded. Jack smiled, then gave a whoof of surprise when Aditi leaned over and hugged him had enough he could’ve sworn he felt his spine popping.

“Ow! Ow! Aditi, air!”

“Why should I? You don’t need to breathe,” Aditi giggled, but thankfully she did loosen her grip. When she drew back a second later, she smiled at Jack. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jack smiled back, squeezing her hand. “Me, too.”

“I thank you for your assistance,” Piscia said to the Judge and Cipitio, before returning her attention to Jack. “Do you know what Pitch wanted?”

“Information about me. Don’t ask me why, ‘cause I have no idea,” Jack said.

“It’s true, Señora,” Cipitio said from his tree. “He wanted to ask me about Jack Frost. He did not say why, but for him to come to me, and so directly, tells me he is very interested in my amigo Jack.”

“He’s certainly gone to a lot of trouble to speak with you,” Aditi said with a thoughtful frown. “He has already demonstrated he will detain you if you will not listen willingly.”

“I don’t understand how I could possibly be so important to him,” Jack said, throwing his hands up. “I barely ever even saw the guy when I was a spirit, and I talked to him maybe a grand total of five times in three centuries!”

“Whatever the Bogeyman’s reasoning, I think it safe to assume he will continue to trouble you until you and the Horsemen bring your plan to fruition,” the Judge said. Touching a finger to the rim of his hat, he said, “I will bid you buenos noches, Reapers. I must continue my own work.”

And with that, the Judge nudged his horse into a trot down the street, vanishing into the shadows at the end of it.

“Ah, drama,” Cipitio sighed from up in his tree.

“He has always been rather… private,” Aditi said, still watching the shadows where the Judge had disappeared.

“Indeed.”

Everyone spun about to face Death; he and War were both mounted side-by-side a few feet behind the Reapers. Jack blinked when he noticed War’s grin.

“Our little scheme may be coming to fruition a bit sooner than we expected,” the Red Horseman said when she noticed Jack staring. When the Reapers were still plainly confused, War pointed upward.

Jack looked up. Then he laughed and high-fived Aditi.

Above the roofs of the houses, small though they were, threads of golden sand had begun to flow.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26:

To say the Sandman was confused when he opened his eyes would be a massively inconsiderate understatement.

He had no idea where he was; his memory was fuzzy, to say the least. He remembered the initial pain of Pitch’s arrow piercing his back, then nothing but cold and endless blackness.

Sandy wasn’t certain how much time he’d spent in that state, simply drifting, freezing and alone. Maybe he’d slept. He couldn’t say, but he could remember at times feeling horrid dread and fear, sometimes stemming from apparently nothing at all, other times more vague fears for his comrades, his friends, the children.

But now here he was, lying on his back on a hard, dusty street, with a stranger crouching over him and smiling for some reason.

“Sandy?” the boy asked.

Sanderson felt his brow furrow. He knew that voice. The hair and eyes were different, the clothes were different, but he knew that voice.

A snowflake appeared in the cloud of golden sand above his head, followed shortly by a question mark.

The boy grinned. “Yeah, it’s Jack. How’re you feeling, Sandy? You alright?”

Sandy blinked. His head was swimming horribly and his vision was a bit blurred, but things could have been far worse.

The Sandman nodded, giving a hesitant smile.

Jack’s grin widened until it almost split his face.

“Jack! Come on! We have to go!”

Jack’s head turned in the direction of the speaker. “I know, I’ll be right there Aditi!”

Jack returned his attention to the downed Sandman. “Look, Sandy, a lot of stuff’s happened since you were shot. You’ve been gone for a little over two years; Pitch won shortly after he took you out. The other Guardians are basically powerless right now because belief is so low. We’ve managed to bring you back by spreading stories, but you need to start making kids dreams about Easter and Christmas and tooth fairies like… yesterday. There’s a lot of real dangerous things going on and it needs to be taken care of ASAP or a lot of people are going to get hurt.”

“Jack!”

“Okay, I’m coming!” Jack called over his shoulder, then smiled apologetically at the Sandman. “Sorry I can’t tell you more Sandy, but we’ve got some pretty urgent work to do ourselves. Good luck!”

With that, Jack dashed off to Sandy’s right. The Sandman had enough strength to turn his head in time to see Jack leap into the saddle of a tobiano mare. There were two others with him, also on horseback. Their figures were half-hidden in the shadows of the building behind them, but Sandy could see that both were women. The moment Jack was mounted, one of these women spurred her horse to leap straight up skyward. And it kept going.

Jack and the other woman followed in short order, and the Sandman was soon lying alone on the street.

That really hadn’t cleared anything up for him; if anything, Sanderson now had more questions. But now that he was a bit more focused, he could tell that at least one thing Jack had said was true.

Belief in the Guardians was the lowest he’d felt it since… well, since the Dark Ages, really. Odd as whatever had just happened had been, Jack seemed to be all right. Sandy would have to settle for hoping that would last.

After taking a few more moments to regain something approaching full equilibrium, the Sandman pushed his hands against the ground and bobbed upright. He began twisting threads of golden sand around his hands, creating a small shining plane within a minute. Sandy hopped in, pulling a set of sand flight goggles over his eyes, cracking his knuckles as he eyed the controls.

Time to get to work.

Jack was chatting excitedly with Aditi and Madrik when War’s yell… honestly, it was more of a roar… cut through the air as savagely as the Red Horseman’s sword.

“Would you all shut the Hell up?!”

There was immediate silence as every Reaper (and most of the Death Gods, though they’d be slower to admit it) cowered in instinctive terror before turning their attention to the front of the gathering.

Jack still wasn’t certain how to describe this place; everyone referred to it as the Between, though some of the older Reapers also called it the Void. Regardless, Death, and to a lesser extent the other three Horsemen, were able to manipulate reality here. It was beyond amazing; there were hundreds of thousands of Reapers, Death Gods and their assorted servants and subjects here. Logically to fit everyone the space would have to be the size of Jack didn’t know how many Olympic stadiums, yet it appeared barely larger than…

Jack assessed again. Ten soccer fields, maybe? Whatever it was, it was far smaller than should be possible. He tried not to think about it to much; it made his head spin.

It had the appearance of a Great Hall, of sorts, crafted of pale stone. Everything that would supposedly be solid was blurry and indistinct, though, like the walls weren’t really there. Which Jack supposed they weren’t. Death and the other Horsemen stood atop of a bit of raised… whatever it was, it felt like a solid floor but not quite right in some way. War was standing at the front, with her horned helmet on, projecting a distinctly terrifying aura. Famine and Pestilence had, wisely in Jack’s opinion, moved to the back corner of the dais. Death, standing beside War, was giving her some serious side-eye, with the impression that if he’d had eyebrows, at least one of them would be raised.

Once everyone had gotten over their momentary panic, people straightened and shuffled about slightly, half embarrassed, half still very nervous.

“Thank you, War,” Death said dryly after another moment. Jack, despite the earlier fright, had to bite back a grin at the tone.

“I’m certain you’ve all heard by now that the first part of our plan has borne fruit,” Death said, addressing the general assembly now. Jack still couldn’t get over the fact that the entity wasn’t shouting; he was talking as he always did, but it still sounded like Death was standing right next to him.

“Unfortunately, that means the easy part is over; now we destroy the demons still loose and close all the Hell Gates that Mephistopheles opened, and we need to move quickly. It will not take Mephistopheles long to discover our role in this setback, and once he does it won’t take a genius to guess our next move. He will try to counter us, and given this very sudden loss of strength he will be pitting us against everything he has left. Stay together and watch yourselves; I’d hate to have to go down to Hell and drag any of you back up,” Death said.

“I don’t care how you feel about it, I’m going down there and ripping that fool demon lord’s spine out through his mouth myself,” War hissed.

Death gave her a look. “War. You’re the distraction.”

The Red Horseman perked up immediately. Jack could imagine why; Death had basically just told her she was in charge of getting the highest kill count out of any of them, which meant she’d be right where the fighting was thickest. Jack could think of no other place for the Red Horseman at a time like this, frankly.

“You all know your cadres at this point and you know your tasks. Work together and get them done, and for the love of my sanity please do them correctly and don’t do anything overly foolish while doing so. The last thing any of us want at this point is giving Michael a reason to be self-righteous,” Death said, with an eye roll that was audible instead of visible.

There was a collection of groans and grumbles from the Reapers and Death Gods. The angels were so concerned with their fallen brother Lucifer that they completely failed to pay attention to their far more powerful uncle. Jack wondered what had made God think getting the angels so riled up at the strife among themselves so as to exclude all else from their attention, knowing what Mephistopheles was capable of, not even telling them exactly what Mephistopheles was, was a good idea. The Lord of Hell had no doubt found the whole thing hilarious more than anything else, though Death had remarked to Jack at one point the Primordial had seemed to take the fallen angel and his fellows under his wing, to a degree. When Jack had pressed him further, Death had said he had no idea exactly how God or Mephistopheles’ minds worked, and he rather preferred it that way. The Lord of Heaven had been a bit of what humans today referred to as a narcissist. The Lord of Hell may have regretted pushing the Lord of Heaven too far, may have regretted the pain he had caused his nephew, may have regretted the take-down of one of his pawns and was determined to build him back up to a credible threat, some combination thereof or none of those at all. Death tended not to pry with immortal beings; he was too busy with the mortal ones.

Jack had remarked on the general fucked-upness of the family. Death had responded with something along the lines of “they’re God-beings. Longer-lived, bit of a different evolution and a bit more powerful, but still God-beings. You expected anything else?”

Jack had almost choked on the lingon berry juice he’d been drinking.

“But we’re all pretty functional!” he’d said.

“I’m not a God. I’m a fact of existence,” Death had called over his shoulder as he’d gone back to do… whatever it was he did when no one was looking. Work, mostly, Jack supposed.

Drawn out of his reverie by the other Reapers shifting and talking to each other around him, Jack turned as well and began sauntering back in the direction of the living world. Well, direction felt like a stretch, but Jack didn’t know what else you’d call it.

He really wasn’t looking forward to this. But it had to be done; hopefully it would help with the whole Pitch situation. And his family was counting on him.

“Are you ready for this, Jack?” Solriss asked.

Jack jumped. He hadn’t even noticed his old mentor coming up beside him. The former frost spirit glanced to his right, his eyes meeting the old Norseman’s cool blue gaze.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Figure I’m the best one for the job, anyhow,” Jack answered as they stepped through the veil and into the cold, mist-swathed land of Germany’s Black Forest.

“Agramon is not a demon to be taken lightly,” Solriss said as his mare, Randi, trotted up to him.

“I know. But I’m not planning on taking him on directly, at least not at first; getting the Guardians to take on Pitch will be one hell of an attention-getter,” Jack said with a laugh. He winced inwardly; it was a bit dryer than he’d been going for.

“I know. War told me what your plan was. But when he shows his face… and I agree with you, he will… he will know in a moment that you are a Reaper,” Solriss said.

Jack looked at Solriss again as Mei sauntered over to join them.

“I’ll be fine, Solriss. War’s been training me to fight demons since before I died. Well, died again.”

“Jack, Agramon is one of the greater demons; he is unlike the others you have faced.”

“I’m just glad I’m not dealing with Alastor. That guy sounds like a real piece of work,” Jack said with a shudder as he scratched under Mei’s headpiece.

“Too bad you’re not going after Belphegor,” Madrik commented from atop his horse as he walked by. “He’s one of the few beings Pestilence can tolerate most of the time.”

Jack laughed. “He did sound pretty chill when War described him to me; she said he was pretty boring for a demon.”

“Of course she did,” Solriss muttered as he mounted.

“You are aware that Agramon can literally scare people to death, right?” Madrik said as Jack also pulled himself into his saddle.

“I was aware of that, yes,” Jack said dryly as he grabbed the reins.

“Just… avoid his eyes, okay? And his breath,” Madrik said with a worried look in Jack’s direction.

“I know, Madrik. War and I have gone over this; I’ll be okay,” Jack said with a smile.

I hope so, at any rate, Jack thought as he kicked Mei into a skyward canter, turning her west so they could head back to the United States. That was likely where Sandy and the rest of the Guardians were, given that they were limited in the speed of their travel still.

“Say, Mei, whaddya say to harassing a Bogeyman and some super pesky Spring spirits?” Jack said, scratching his steed’s neck.

Mei whickered at him and tossed her head, as if to say I know what you’re doing, and I still think this is insane.

“Yeah, okay, we’re also going to be pissing off the Demon of Fear. Not like I haven’t done crazier stuff, right?”

Mei snorted and shook her head.

“I know. But you’ve got my back, right?”

Mei whinnied. Always.

Jack smiled. “Thanks, girl. Let’s go find the Guardians and kick their useless rears in gear, huh?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 27:

Burgess. Why the heck was it always Burgess?

But when Jack saw little Jamie (who was not as little as Jack remembered him being, dang kids really did grow up fast), it made sense. Jaimie had been one of the Guardians’ strongest believers, and his belief had only been strengthened when he’d seen them that night, collecting teeth. And, as Death said (oftentimes complaining), young souls were… more perceptive than adults at times. After actually seeing the Big Four, Jaimie’s belief would be all but impossible to shake.

Which unfortunately made him target number one as far as Pitch was concerned when the Guardians started fighting back again.

And the Guardians, stronger though they’d become, were still in no position to hold the front.

Jack brought Mei to a halt above the alley where Pitch had backed the Guardians and Jaime into a corner. There were plenty of Nightmares about, and Pitch himself of course, but there was no sign of any demon, never mind one as powerful as Agramon.

With a heavy sigh, Jack dropped a trash can lid on Pitch’s head.

Mei snorted and whickered when Pitch cursed, head jerking upward and spotting the two of them immediately. “Frost!”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see ya there,” Jack, resting his elbow on his knee as he leaned over with a grin. “My bad.”

Pitch’s eyes narrowed further, either ignoring or not noticing the Wind brushing past him.

“Still standing with the spirits who betrayed you, Jack? What do you feel you owe them, after all this time?” the Bogeyman asked. Jack blinked; was it his imagination, or did Pitch sound… genuinely curious?

“Who said I’m doing this for them?” Jack asked. Mei snorted her agreement with the sentiment. “Frankly, you’ve been bugging the hell out of a lot of people lately, me included. Nice job, by the way, ticking off the Judge. From what I’ve heard of the guy, you’re lucky he didn’t slice you into ribbons.”

It was Pitch’s turn to blink. “How did you…?”

“Cipitio’s still got a spot on the international spirit grapevine, you know,” Jack said.

Pitch bared his teeth in an expression Jack could not interpret; it could have been a snarl or an absolutely savage grin. Jack tensed when Pitch turned his Nightmare mount around, its fellows doing the same.

Then the Wind carried Jaimie and the Guardians past them all at speed, shrieking and laughing with glee.

After a moment of utter chaos, the Nightmares took off after the Guardians and Jaimie while Pitch and his mount leaped at Jack and Mei.

Jack immediately turned Mei about and kicked her into a gallop. They led Pitch on what was, for them, a merry chase. They dove down narrow alleys and side streets, wove between chimneys and apartment buildings. Occasionally they would make darting attacks, Jack striking glancing blows with his scythe (which he’d turned into a pole staff). He never did any serious damage; Pitch wasn’t his fight, he just needed to distract him long enough for the Guardians to get on with things. And Pitch was an able rider in his own right; he dodged the majority of Jack’s attacks, seeming more annoyed than anything. Anything that did strike was little more than a glancing blow.

Suddenly the Bogeyman’s eyes went wide for a second, then narrowed into a hard glare.

“You’ve been distracting me!” he hissed, his mount whinnying angrily.

Jack brought Mei to a halt. She snorted as he shrugged. “Yeah.”

With a definite snarl this time, Pitch turned his steed about and kicked it into a gallop; the pair vanished into the shadow of a high-rise tower a second later.

Jack and Mei didn’t follow.

Jack felt the hair rise along the back of his neck, shoulders going rigid at the smell that suddenly, subtly, had permeated the air about him; old blood, rotten flesh and burning hair. It wasn’t that strong, but it still felt like it had closed his throat up.

Mei turned about without any direction from him, whinnying a challenge, though Jack could feel the horse trembling beneath him.

Behind them, on no surface Jack could discern, stood the Demon of Fear.

There were no eyes or ears Jack could discern. What bits of the demon’s flesh were visible were so pale as to be almost white, but… sallow, in their appearance. His mouth seemed to take up about three quarters of his face, sharp teeth bared in a grin. He had two large horns that looked like a cross between a ram’s and a bull’s, emanating from his head for about three feet on either side before curving slightly back and upward. He wore black armor that had been fashioned to look like lizard’s scales, though his hands and feet appeared to be bare. These both appeared more reptilian than anything, massive claws tipping each digit. He also apparently had a tail, long and thin, that curled about his feet.

The demon flicked his tongue, looking to be tasting the air like a snake, before he opened his mouth. Jack noticed then that he did have eyes, albeit small ones. There were no whites, only two pupils that encompassed each eye, such a deep, dark blue they were almost black. Paired with that massive mouth opening, the image was horrifying.

“The former Jack Frost,” Agramon said, voice some horrid cross between a whisper and a growl. The demon seemed quite calm, though, which if anything alarmed Jack even more. “Before, Jackson Overland. Now, a little Reaper. Why do you interfere with my puppet, little one?”

It took Jack a moment to unglue his tongue from the top of his mouth. “Because he’s annoying.”

Agramon laughed; the smell became distinctly stronger for a moment, and Jack shuddered. Mei took a small, small step backward, ears pinned flat against her head.

“Don’t patronize me, little Reaper. You think I became what I am by playing the fool?”

Jack’s mouth moved almost against his will. “We know what you’re doing. You and your boss.”

Agramon made a sound that may have been a sigh.

Jack didn’t see what happened next. One moment he was sitting astride Mei, facing the demon standing about twenty feet away from them. The next he was being pressed against the wall of a building, the demon’s tail wrapped around him, one clawed hand wrapped around his throat, the other cupping the side of his face in a terrifying mimicry of a lover’s touch, tilting his face up to meet Agramon’s eyes.

The demon leaned closer, breath washing over Jack’s face, as the young Reaper’s eyes were drawn unwittingly into deep blue pools.

“Why don’t you tell me more about that, little Reaper?”

Jack couldn’t recall much after that except that he was screaming, and wondering how that was possible when his heart and lungs seemed as though they would burst due to the sheer terror.

Alone.

Cold.

Hurts.

…

No one sees me. Why do they not see me? Hear me touch me feel me what is going on?

…

There are other spirits. They don’t like me. Spring, they hurt me. Bunny doesn’t like me he’s mad says I ruined his Easter it wasn’t my fault itwasanaturalstorm why is he yelling…

North thinks it’s justmischief that I don’t haveareason but can’t they see them smile, hear them laughing, feel the things sleeping to grow underneath…

--

The cold moonlight shines down on a hooded cloak. The face is a skull. It was all a lie?

..

“Hello.”

There is someone there. They’re smiling. They’re looking at him!

Hands are grabbing his, holding gently as they help him to his feet.

..

He falls asleep against something warm.

..

“Come on, sprite, I know you’ve got better than this in you! On your feet!” The woman in red gestures sharply for him to rise. “Up! Again!”

..

The blond man grins. “Well done, lad.”

..

"When I first found you, you were alone and terrified out of your mind. How would you have reacted if I'd walked up to you looking like this, or told you that I was the Incarnation of Death? And later, what do you think the spring spirits would have done, had they discovered your connection to me? They already hate you for being what you are; I did not wish to give them, or any other spirits, further reason to push you away."

"But couldn't you have at least told me your real name?"

"Technically, I did. Do you know what Ants'nel means?"

..

“You need not go if you do not desire it, Jack. If you choose to, however, I will understand.”

..

“I would be honored to have you as one of my Reapers.”

Jack brought his scythe up with a primal yell, slashing at Agramon’s face and forcing him back. With a furious scream Jack would not have thought a horse capable of, Mei stormed between him and the demon, shaking so hard Jack wondered how she was even standing when he himself fell to his knees the second the support of the demon’s tail vanished.

Agramon hissed, genuinely aggravated now, tail lashing about like a sentient whip.

“Yes, I was afraid. I am afraid,” Jack said, much more shakily than he would have liked, but, putting his hand on Mei’s shoulder, he was able to push himself to his feet. The blade of his scythe snic’d as he twirled it in his hand. “But I can control it.”

Agramon… snickered, Jack supposed. “I am primal fear. I am inescapable, little one who was once mortal.”

“I’m a servant of Death. We’re kinda inevitable ourselves,” Jack said, managing a shaky grin. Before Agramon could react, he lunged.

When Agramon tried to use his breath again, Jack kept his focus on the demon’s movement.

Always be aware of your opponent as well as yourself, War was fond of saying. Watch them. Learn.

Agramon, it appeared, generally relied on his power and his breath to subdue his prey before they got too close. He only started bringing his arms up in defense when Jack was already well inside his guard. His armor proved ill-equipped to repel a Reaper’s scythe, and Jack managed a couple more deep slashes before Agramon realized his fear-power wasn’t working.

The demon was still a formidable fighter; his tail was capable of inflicting serious damage and it had a long reach. Jack got two deep slashes across his right cheek, one narrowly missing the eye, before Mei bit it off. The claws were still a problem; they were worse than the hardest, sharpest steel. He was fast, too. Jack was barely holding his own, parrying and dodging like a madman, leaping from rooftop to rooftop in an effort to get some space between himself and his opponent so he could make an attack of his own.

Suddenly Agramon let out a horrible, unearthly shriek, leaping back and clutching at his side. Jack blinked in surprise when he saw a silver arrow sticking out from a damaged portion of the demon’s armor.

Looking back, Jack saw Piscia and her dun mount standing on top of the AC unit of a neighboring roof, Piscia already drawing another arrow from a quiver that had been slung across her back. Agramon spun about and hissed threateningly… and got an arrow in the chest for his trouble.

When the demon staggered backward from the force of the blow, Jack leaped onto Mei’s back as she sprang forward from where she’d been behind him, ready to run to his aid. As his horse bounded forward, Jack tightened his legs around her and leaned out. His scythe hummed in his hand.

It was… almost anticlimactic, how quick and easy it was. A bit disconcerting when the head nearly bounced off the roof, though.

Klaus would have been proud.

“Thanks,” Jack said to Piscia as they trotted side-by-side down the alley. “Where’d you get the bow?”

“I spent some time with the Hunters of Artemis before I asked Death to serve as a Reaper,” Piscia answered, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she adjusted the strap of the quiver. “I kept some of the accoutrements.”

“Ah,” Jack said, feeling a smile tug at his mouth as he slowed Mei down so he could listen to the shouting a few blocks away. “Sounds like they’re still at it.”

Piscia sighed, tugging at the reins to slow her own horse. “Why do I get the impression you’re going to go get involved?”

Jack just grinned at her.

“Jack, be aware that we have only disembodied Agramon; fragments of his power will still be here, and they will be concentrated around Pitch and the Nightmares. It may not be a good idea for you to go up against them. There is a significant risk of after-effects,” Piscia said.

“Well, consider this a bit of clean-up work, then,” Jack answered.

The other Reaper sighed. “Fine. I will… stay nearby, just in case. There are a few lesser demons a few miles away I can deal with.”

Mei, apparently at the end of her rope with fear-associated creatures for the night, nearly trampled the Bogeyman without any direction from Jack. He’d jumped off her back, turning his scythe back into a pole staff, intending to assess the situation when Mei, trumpeting furiously, leaped down from the rooftop they’d landed on in a valiant effort to squash Pitch flat.

Pitch (barely) managed to dodge, vanishing into a shadow at the last possible second. Mei, much to her frustration, landed on solid concrete. She whinnied in indignation, snorting and stomping about as she searched for her missing target.

Jack, amused and a little bit concerned (he’d never seen her this upset about… anything, really), leaped down beside her, keeping the staff up in a defensive position as Pitch’s laughter echoed about the alley.

“Jack! Are you okay?” Bunny called from the alley’s mouth. Jack’s head turned to face the Guardians; they all looked okay. A little scuffed up, some bruises here and there, but nothing serious. Bunny was also back to his usual size, Jack was surprised that he was actually pleased to notice that. Seeing the proud spirit that… small had been a little disconcerting, even though there was no love lost between them.

“Jack! Ohmygosh, your face, what happened?!” Tooth shrieked, hands flying up to cover her mouth.

Oh, yeah. He probably should’ve wiped the blood off.

“I’m fine, someone just got a lucky shot in,” Jack said, smiling thinly.

He sensed the shift behind him a second before Mei whinnied her warning. He turned, swinging his staff, and knocked the scythe out of Pitch’s hand with zero trouble. Bringing the staff back down, he wedged it between Pitch’s ankles so the Bogeyman would trip no matter which way he tried to step. And all Jack would have to do to knock him down was push back a little bit.

“Dude, that is not how you hold a scythe, much less swing it,” Jack said, giving Pitch an arched look.

Pitch, for his part, was left gaping in shock. That shock quickly turned to terror when a thread of golden sand wound around his wrists.

Jack laughed at the Bogeyman’s horrified yell when he was yanked backward, over the buses in the depot and over the fence.

“Noooo you don’t,” he said, quickly grabbing Mei’s reins as she went to leap after him. The look she gave him could’ve curdled fresh milk.

“Next time! Next time, I promise!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 28:

Jack hung back as the Guardians celebrated; throwing a snowball at Bunny’s face had, surprisingly, gotten their attention off him as a more involved fight began to break out.

“No! How dare you…!”

“Pitch, it’s over!” Jack snapped, throwing out his right arm and blocking Pitch from moving further forward. “Get a grip, would you? You’ll only make things worse!”

The Bogeyman snarled at him, but Pitch’s eyes betrayed him. Jack imagined he’d likely looked like that the first time someone had walked through him. It was… comforting, in a bit of an odd way, to know older spirits felt much the same.

“Get a grip,” Jack said again, more quietly this time. “You’re drawing way too much attention for my comfort right now.”

Pitch looked at Jack like he’d lost his mind, but comprehension dawned when he looked behind the former frost spirit.

“Pitch, you can control it! You’re the Nightmare King, for crying out loud! Act like it!”

Unfortunately the Nightmares had been seeded by the Demon of Fear, and since they no longer had many viable targets around…

Jack cursed as Pitch took off running into the trees, back toward the lake. He leaped onto Mei’s back, kicking her into a gallop after the fleeing Bogeyman.

Jack expanded his Reaper aspect, allowing him and Mei to become ethereal enough to move through the trees and brush that were in their way. Thankfully this meant they were able to beat Pitch to the lake.

Pitch was obviously surprised to see them when he burst from the trees. He was even more surprised when Jack summoned his scythe, holding it up over his head when the Nightmares came stampeding into view. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Jack and Mei standing beside the Bogeyman, snorting and pawing aggressively but not coming any closer.

“Don’t turn your back on them,” Jack said to Pitch out of the corner of his mouth as Mei pinned her ears, whinnying back at the Nightmares. “Do not back down; they’re desperate and starving, and I can’t hold them all if they decide your fear is worth the risk.”

Pitch was looking at Jack like he’d lost his mind, but he did turn to face the Nightmares all the same.

A tense standoff ensued; it likely only lasted a minute or two, but it certainly felt a lot longer than that.

“Jack?”

“Oi, Frostbite, where’d ya run off to?”

“Jack! Where are you?”

The Nightmares bristled visibly at the Guardians’ shouts. Pitch tensed as well, but Jack didn’t so much as twitch. He kept his eyes on the Nightmares, scythe raised. Mei didn’t move, either.

When the Guardians crested the ridge, the Nightmares became even more agitated. Pitch, thankfully, though he did obviously not appreciate the Guardians showing up, kept his eyes fixed on his former minions.

Given the suddenly much longer odds, the Nightmares were having second thoughts about their target. After a few more extremely tense seconds of standoff, some of the equine creatures simply faded into nothing, while the rest turned and galloped into the trees.

Jack didn’t relax until he’d done what he referred to as a ‘sensor sweep’ of the surrounding area. When that didn’t turn up anything concerning, he finally allowed himself to relax and tuck his scythe back into his saddlebag.

“Crikey, those things’re creepy,” Bunny muttered, keeping wary eyes fixed on the trees as he hopped toward Jack and the Bogeyman, the other Guardians following close behind. Pitch, for his part, glared at the Big Four but did take a few small steps back. He was outmatched here, and he knew it.

The Guardians were equally pleased with Pitch’s presence, Sandy possibly a bit less so judging by the withering look he gave the Bogeyman. Jack found himself suppressing a grin when Pitch tried to hold the Sandman’s eyes but ended up looking away, lips pursed. Huh. He might actually feel kind of bad about what he did to him.

“What’re ya helpin’ him for?” Bunny asked, levelling his own glare at Pitch.

“I don’t think any of us want to be dealing with the Nightmares any more than we have to,” Jack said. “If they can’t feed, so much the better.”

“Wait, they were after you?” Tooth said to Pitch. “Don’t you control them?”

“Not anymore,” Jack said, more brightly than he felt.

“Bunny? Tooth?”

Oh, boy. Jack stayed where he was as the Guardians turned and started heading back toward Jaimie and his friends as they ran around the pile of rocks at the top of the hill, coming toward the frozen lake. Pitch was at this point several feet away from Jack, standing so he could keep both the former frost spirit and the Guardians in his sight.

Mei pricked her ears a moment before a familiar feeling had Jack turning his head back toward the shadows of the trees.

His face broke into a broad grin, and Mei whickered a happy greeting at the pale steed and Death, in human form, as they trotted down toward the lake from the ledge, Death’s horse moving as though his hooves were on a solid trail instead of air.

“Thank goodness!” Jack breathed as the Wind whipped through the trees, circling happily around the pair of them when Death brought his horse to stand in front of Mei. “Is it over?”

“Yes,” Death said, a small smile tugging his mouth sideways. “War had great fun serving as a distraction; it was a team effort between Famine and Pestilence to keep her from charging straight down into Hell to run her own personal harrowing, but we’ve de-clawed any of the demons still left in this realm and sealed the Gates they were traveling through.”

“Is War sulking yet?” Jack asked, a grin tugging his own mouth sideways before he could stop it.

“Most likely; Famine and Solriss volunteered to stay with her to make sure she…ah, has a chance to cool down, as they put it,” Death said, his tone implying he thought that was a very mild way of putting it.

Jack shuddered, not something he’d done often in the past few centuries. “You know, suddenly I’m glad Agramon was my assignment.”

“You did well,” Death said, giving Jack a look the young Reaper found inscrutable. It did create a pleasant feeling in his chest, though.

“I think it was mainly ‘cause the guy was being cocky. Demon of Fear, capital letters and all,” Jack said, fiddling with Mei’s mane and looking quickly to the side.

“Even if that was the case, most would not have held their own for very long at all, yet you and Mei kept him at bay until Piscea was able to get to you and help end things.”

Death’s horse whickered and tossed his head, as though nodding in agreement. Mei lifted her head, a damn right we did well if Jack had ever seen one.

“Who are you?”

Jack turned to look at Pitch, brow furrowed. Embarrassed though he was to admit it, his jaw almost dropped when he saw where the Bogeyman was looking.

Straight at Death.

Who met the Bogeyman’s glare with a flat look. “I believe Jack has mentioned me to you before.”

Pitch’s glare intensified. Jack was doing his damndest to avoid a gasping fish impression, instead settling for giving Death an incredulous look.

The entity gave a minute shrug. ‘They’ve all been annoying lately and quite frankly at this point I don’t care if they see me.’

Jack choked on a laugh while the horses snorted in agreement. Death’s horse was staring at the Bogeyman with a look that conveyed he thought Pitch’s interruption the rudest thing he’d encountered in the past millennium.

“Who are you?”

North’s voice was much more alarming than Pitch’s had been, mostly because it was a good bit louder. Jack turned in the saddle to see North also glaring at the Pale Horseman, both swords raised, one pointing at the newcomer. The rest of the Guardians stood on either side of him, Bunny with his boomerangs drawn and Tooth, with a collection of fairies hovering around her, had her fists raised. Sandy, thankfully, only looked a bit wary. He was still on guard, but not looking like he was about to leap into a fight the second someone put a foot wrong.

Death was just as unimpressed with this display as he’d been with Pitch’s. Jack was further puzzled when he saw Jaimie and his friends standing at the top of the hill, on the path leading back into town. They were watching the Guardians, with an occasional glance at Pitch.

“The kids can’t see you?” Jack asked Death.

“That would likely cause a few more questions than I am prepared to deal with at present,” Death answered. “No, I am not currently visible to humans.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “But you’re prepared to deal with them?”

Death shrugged, more visibly this time. “You have told them all they really need to know. It’s no one’s fault but theirs if they paid no attention.”

Jack got the distinct impression that this was intended either as payback or to make a point about something for the spirits; for what, or what that point was, he wasn’t sure yet.

The spirits had been super annoying for the past couple years, though. Never mind how long they’d been driving the Reapers up the wall on and off before Jack had even… well…

A golden exclamation point appeared over the Sandman’s head just as Pitch’s eyes widened. “Ants’nel? You’re the one the sprite would go on and on about two hundred years ago?”

This elicited several sharp intakes of breath from the Guardians, and Death’s subtle inclination of the head in acknowledgement of Pitch’s recognition didn’t seem to help the overall air of tension.

It certainly didn’t seem to have eased North or Bunny’s nerves. North’s eyes narrowed as he took a measured step forward, though he did lower the sword in his left hand slightly. “Who are you, exactly? I have never heard of a spirit with such a name. Not from any who were not Jack.” This last bit was added after Jack gave the older spirit a flat look. Sandy snickered silently.

“Not surprising; I involve myself relatively rarely with spirits. Very few in your circles know me, and they are of the more… reclusive persuasion,” Death said.

The elder spirits, Jack realized. And most of the other ones that know him aren’t really in a position to be telling anybody else.

North and Bunny still didn’t look pleased, but Tooth was looking more puzzled than defensive now. Sandy appeared thoughtful; Jack knew the Sandman had crossed paths with Death more than any other of the Guardians, though Death had never really allowed the Guardian of Dreams to perceive him.

Pitch still appeared wary, but he had definitely inched to his left enough that Jack and Death would prove a decent barrier in case a barrage from the Big Four came his way and he needed to dodge in a hurry, Jack noted.

“Oi! The hell are you two still hangin’ around here for?”

Death rolled his eyes while Jack, after his initial start, laughed.

“Hi, Red!” Jack called to War, who was standing astride her steed just above the trees to the south. Famine, Solriss and their horses were beside her, Famine rubbing her forehead in exasperation at War’s antics and Solriss hanging well out of punching or sword-swinging range should the Red Horseman decide to take umbrage with something.

War grinned, and though Jack didn’t doubt it was intended to be friendly he barely kept from flinching backward. “Piscea told us all about it; good job, mite. Nicely fought and cleanly finished. Sorry we missed it.”

Jack managed to grin back, and it became a genuine smile when he heard Death mutter, “I’m not certain I agree with Famine’s definition of ‘cooled off’.”

It was at that point Jack realized that all the spirits had taken several steps away from the Red Horseman. Funnily enough, Bunny and Pitch were both bristling, while North had both swords raised again. Tooth and Sandy had both adopted a defensive posture too, and even Sandy was visibly alarmed by this newcomer.

“Please excuse her,” Famine called down to Death and Jack. “She’s still riding out a bit of a high.”

Jack laughed at the affronted look War shot her colleague. “Don’t worry guys, they won’t hurt you,” the former frost spirit told the Guardians (and Pitch by proxy, he supposed, though Jack doubted Pitch would try to fight so much as a guinea pig at this point). His smile grew when he heard War’s indignant scoff (and her horse’s equally indignant snort). “They’re… close friends of mine.”

The Guardians shot him incredulous looks. “Why didn’t you tell us about them, Jack?” Tooth asked after a moment to digest the news.

“You didn’t believe him when he did!” Famine shouted down, to the snorted approval of the horses and Death’s nodded assent.

Bunny still didn’t look convinced. “Who are ya blighters?” the spirit asked, still keeping his body turned toward War but allowing an ear and his eyes to snap over toward Death for a moment. “How come we’ve never seen any of you? I ain’t even heard of any spirits like you, ever.”

“And who said we were spirits, lad?” Solriss called, daring to edge a little bit closer to War and Famine now that the Red Horseman’s focus seemed suitably diverted. Famine, War and Jack snickered, the horses tossing their heads and whinnying. Death grinned, widely enough Jack wondered for a moment if he was going to let the Guardians actually see him.

He didn’t, but his voice had certainly… changed when he spoke next.

“Peace, Aster,” the entity said when Bunny snarled, arm moving back in preparation for a throw even though his comrades had moved to stop him. Bunny’s eyes went wide, but he went still, lowering his weapons and appearing in a momentary daze. The rest of the Guardians went rigid. “We mean none of you any harm. We have simply come to retrieve our… friend, and assure ourselves of his safety.”

“And why should we trust you?” Bunny said, trying to snarl again and failing. Jack realized, with a start, that the spirit was shaking.

“I trust them, Bunny,” Jack said, nudging Mei to take a few steps closer to Death and his steed. “They’re not going to hurt you, not unless you attack them first. Please calm down.” That last bit was directed at War almost as much as Bunny; he could hear the Red steed champing at his bit even at this distance.

Bunny’s eyes moved to Jack; Jack didn’t know exactly what it was that the spirit saw, but after a long moment he took a step back and, almost painfully slowly, put away his weapons. The other Guardians followed his lead.

Pitch… was nowhere to be seen. Jack glanced quickly at Death.

‘He slipped off some time ago,’ Death said. ‘He’s gone to lick his wounds; I doubt anyone will be seeing anything of him for a while after this.’

Jack hoped that was the case. Pitch may be less irritating than the Guardians, but he still wouldn’t mind not laying eyes on the guy anytime soon.

Or the Guardians, for that matter.

“Interesting as this is, we do still have business to attend to,” Famine called down. “Sorry to break it up, but we really should get moving before everyone starts to wonder what happened to us.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Jack said, almost smacking himself in the forehead; he’d completely forgotten about the rendezvous in Xibalba. Aditi and Madrik would kill him all over again if he showed up late to that, considering who the focus of his mission had been.

As Death and Jack turned their horses toward the others, Tooth called, “wait! Jack, hang on a second!”

“Sorry, Tooth, but we really do have to go,” Jack said, tugging Mei into a quick stop while Death did the same with his horse a few steps ahead, looking back at Jack as Jack looked back at the Guardians.

“Jack, there is still…,” North began. He was interrupted by Jack’s sigh.

“I know what you’re going to say, North, but the answer is still no. We’ve got work to do; I’ll… see you around, guys.”

With that, Jack turned back toward Death, following the Pale Horseman’s lead as he nudged his horse into a skyward canter. He slowed to a trot as they came near the trio hovering over the trees, and the three nudged their own horses to join them.

“Hey, where’re the Spring spirits?” War asked Jack as her horse fell into step beside him and Mei. “I was hoping to run a few of ‘em down.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I’d have thought Pitch would have at least called them for back up when it started going south for him. Maybe they just didn’t answer; I know they won’t work with someone they think is too weak.”

“They do like to make sure they’re betting on the winning hand,” War said. “Shame. Well, you’ll probably run into them sooner rather than later. If you’d give me a ring when that happens, I’d appreciate it. If you forget, just kick their asses for me, yeah? Maybe feed ‘em to a leshy.”

Jack swallowed. “That’s an interesting thought, War, but I don’t think I’ll be doing anything quite that drastic.”

“Drastic? It’s just a quick way of doing the clean-up.”

“That’s nice. Still not happening.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 29:

Death realized belatedly he should have kept his aspect up enough to keep the Moon’s spirits from seeing him for a bit longer.

At least he’d kept it up enough that they couldn’t really see him.

He’d sensed Pitch shortly after entering the hospital; unfortunately he hadn’t been paying much mind to the other presences in the area. He only really noticed the bogeyman when Pitch’s focus was suddenly on him.

He sensed the bogeyman following him through the shadows on the walls, more curious than anything. Death for his part ignored him, making his way through the quietly bustling halls, passage unmarked by any of the humans he passed.

He paused when a young-looking man and woman stood suddenly, sketching hasty half-bows to him. He recognized them after a moment as Niamh and Brendan, banshees who watched over the descendants of one of the younger Irish clans. He glanced into the exam room beyond the bench the pair had been sitting on.

“Another scan?” Death asked.

Niamh nodded. Brendan wrapped an arm around his companion’s shoulder. “The doctors want to test a new chemotherapy treatment.”

“Ah.” The presence of the banshees spoke to how well that was going.

“We sing to calm him,” Niamh said. “But he cannot hear us, and we cannot stop the pain.” The last few words were a near-wail.

Death glanced again at the small figure on the bed in the exam room, clinging to his mother’s hand as the doctor and tech explained how the scan would work and what the test was intended to show.

“I know,” Death said. He could see the pair’s eyes glistening, but they weren’t crying yet.

“We will keep the purple bear beside him,” Niamh said quietly. “Arawn will be here before too long.”

Death didn’t respond. The banshees would keep their vigil to the end, and Arawn was if anything studious in his work. For all that adults seemed to by and large find him terrifying, the old Celtic Lord of the Dead did quite well with children, especially when he brought his hounds along.

“I commend your diligence,” Death said. The two bowed again, then took up their station on the bench again. They had already begun humming together as Death made his way further down the hall, if Death wasn’t mistaken a clan variation of one of hundreds of old dancing tunes.

He sensed the bogeyman shifting behind him after a few moments and barely withheld a sigh. “Pitchiner; I wasn’t expecting to see you quite so soon.”

The spirit became solid out of sheer indignation. “That is not my name!” he snarled.

Death hummed noncommittally, continuing on his way.

Pitch stayed out of the shadows now, but he did stay close to the wall to avoid the humans rushing about.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” the bogeyman asked after nearly a minute of silence.

“My job.”

“Which is?”

Death’s step slowed slightly; there was an undercurrent of unease Pitch’s tone now. A quick glance backward revealed the bogeyman glancing continuously from side to side, into the doors of labs, exam rooms, playrooms, nurse’s stations, waiting areas. The halls and floors were brightly painted; many of the children were laughing. For some it was an effort; for some, it was a way to reassure parents, family and friends, and maybe themselves.

Some weren’t able to laugh, or do much at all, for one reason or another. Many… most… were afraid. Not visibly, and that was worse.

Death had always hated these places.

Pitch’s attention, thankfully, was drawn from him before he reached his destination. A little girl (Mizett Hopkins, 6, Death noted), was absolutely adamant about not needing another test. She was terrified of the needles the doctors and nurses always used, and she didn’t particularly care how much her leg was hurting right at this moment, thank you very much.

She was suitably distracted by the little shadows on the wall that very much resembled rabbits and unicorns (her favorite), that she didn’t end up paying much mind to the needles, and she was giggling before she dropped off into a drug-induced sleep.

Death, in the meantime, stood at the head of the bed of Lexi Ross, 14. She was still nauseous, and it still felt like she ached all over from the last round of chemo. Her chest hurt; every breath was a struggle now, and her right ear had begun to ache again this morning.

But she could still hear her parents, her little brother and sister, their grandparents and aunt, singing ‘Ave Maria’ in what Death thought was a passable harmony. She could feel their hands gripping hers, gripping her legs, resting on her sides. She was smiling around the tubes as her eyes closed.

Death left holding the still-sleeping soul; she wasn’t even aware of him, and Niam and Brendan sang a lamentation in an older Irish Gaelic to keep her so and whispering blessings for a fair journey before returning to their charge.

As Death was making his way to the doors, he saw the huddle of colored scrubs and a white coat; the nurses and the doctor who had first identified the pseudomonas aeruginosa in Lexi.

“You did all you could,” Death said as he stood unseen behind them, the women clutching each other’s shoulders as they cried. “Thank you for caring for her.”

Arawn met him on the steps outside. He placed a very young spirit pup in Death’s arms, snuggled up against Lexi’s soul.

“A fine hound for a valiant warrior,” the god said by way of explanation. As if he needed one; he always brought pups (or kits) for the young ones. Or occasionally a foal.

“The clan banshees are waiting for you,” Death said as he mounted his horse.

Arawn nodded, not surprised in the slightest. “Dutiful, as always. They will tend to him well.”

“They already are.”

When Pitch emerged from the room, he did not see the black robed figure he had followed anywhere, though he looked all through the hospital. He did not see the two men, one wearing a tall white hat and white robes with a kindly face, the other stern-faced, wearing a black hat and black robes, arguing quietly with each other in front of a nurse’s station while a dark haired woman draped in colorful robes, carrying a small glass globe in one hand and a set of scales in the other, rolled her eyes behind them before tapping the dark clad man on the shoulder and proffering the scale.

He did not see the man and woman singing beside the boy clutching his purple teddy bear. He did not see the white eared hounds following obediently beside and before their king and his horse, draped in a star-shimmering robe.

He did see the former frost spirit when said former frost spirit landed heavily on his shoulders the moment he stepped outside, laughing and asking why Pitch couldn’t just let people get on with their work. He only laughed harder when the Nightmare King pushed himself to his feet and proceeded to chase the former sprite down a side street, yelling indignantly, only to be immediately chased back out by a furiously trumpeting mare.

The pale horse, standing invisible with his rider and their charge on the street, snorted in approval before a nudge from his master had him leaping heavenward.