*EDIT*: I'm furious about this as much as you are, believe me. I had to make a few changes to this story or risk it being deleted because of breaking a rule about interactive stories (which I find utterly stupid and pointless). But hopefully you all would still enjoy this. The last thing I want is people to not like it after a minor change in a character's physical appearance. I'm sincerely sorry about this, everyone. I hope you can forgive me for this. Nonetheless, please enjoy, because the magic of this story is still in here.

Merry Christmas, from me to you on this magical morning. Well, to be precise, literally 2 AM. I couldn't sleep cause I was very excited to not only post this, but for the special morning kids look forward to.

...Yes, I know. I'm 18. I'm childish and I'm proud. Hear me roar!

I proudly present to you, another Pitch x OC story. I know what you're thinking. "Oh, I better be prepared since this is rated M." Don't worry. This would be overall rated T, but the language and one single chapter brought it up to an M. It's honestly no big deal, but if rated M stories aren't your cup of tea, the exit is right over there and have yourself a merry little Christmas.

Inspired by the song Alone Together by Fall Out Boy. This is of key importance. Find the song, listen, because it describes the story in perfect harmony. Bless you.

Pitch does not belong to me, nor does the Rise of the Guardian story at all, sadly. If I did own it, Pitch would be wearin' just pants...what?

I'm sorry. 2 AM. Kinda hyper and exhausted at the same time. I'm seeing shadows and I think it's Pitch's nightmare coming to drop another nightmare deuce on my carpet. Luckily I'm prepared. *shakes dreamsand bag*

Enjoy.

Chapter 1

I have had many thoughts over my lifetime as a spirit, but never have I thought, 'What I wouldn't give to be a mortal once more.' I relished being a kindred spirit, even if I had a lack of faith and was considered the 'bad apple', as many would call it. As a more-than-a-thousand-year old spirit, and please do me the favor of not asking me how old, I adapt easier with new eras than newer spirits do. For example, that despicable Jack Frost.

That rude teenager still wears his trousers from when he died, which is quite disgusting. Not only that, but he's stuck with unbalanced hormones, not understanding technology, and not understanding why mortal children do this and that rather than play outside all day every day.

But he's not part of this story. Definitely not. Nope, he's just a complaint. So brush that aside, if you will.

This is by far more important. I mean, really, when is it that a person is ever so lucky to hear the story of when a supposedly quote-on-quote evil person gets redeemed by two misfits of society? They're not who you think, if that's what crossed your mind.

To be quite honest, I have no idea how to start this. The whole scenario just unraveled right when I crossed into this little girl's room. She was no younger than nine years old, and I could tell by her bedroom decorations and toys before I even saw her happily curled up in her bed. To me, she was just another victim to give a nightmare. Golden sand curled and danced above her head, in the shape of two adults-male and female-happily dancing with her around in circles, swinging her arms back and forth to make her fly.

I couldn't help but grimace at that. The poor girl had a false view on parents. From my time, parents were just teachers, of a sort. They raised us like parents should, but would not be afraid to give us a beating if one of us even dared cross a line. Nowadays, parents let their kids get away with anything. Hell, even murder in some cases.

I silently crept up to the girl's side of the bed, thinking she was dead asleep and not noticing the dreamsand disappearing quickly, and froze on the spot seeing that her eyes were open, and she looked up at me.

I didn't know which was more shocking, the fact that I didn't knock her out with my nightmare sand or the fact that she just sat up and smiled at me.

"Hi Boogieman!" she excitedly whispered, clutching at her worn out teddy bear. The pink skirt on it was nearly torn to bits, and some of the plastic stars on the fabric barely hung on by the strings.

"Er...why aren't you asleep?" I whispered, afraid to wake up anyone else in the tiny house.

"I waited for you, but I kinda dozed off. But now you're here, and we can play!" the little girl excitedly bounced on her butt, making the twin sized bed jump with her.

I furiously shook my head, "No. I don't play with petty children. Go. To. Bed." I commanded, pointing to her pillow.

She gave a rather adorable lower lip of a pout, but it did nothing to change my mind. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Children were all the same...at least I thought that until now. This child was probably the first child I've met in centuries that didn't flinch at the sight of me. This girl looked at me as if I was an old friend, someone who she used to have playdates with. I've never even met this girl!

"But…" she choked out, "But I can't! I wanted to play with you. Sandy said-!"

"...Sandy?" I hissed out, eyes glaring at her crudely. Oh, hell no. There is no way in Hell I'm going to be affiliated with someone who knows an enemy of mine.

"Yeah, Sandy. He told me about you and everything that you did. But he said it happened twenty years ago. I guess you're forgiven? Just don't do it again, since he knows you don't like hurting children." the girl said, kicking off the light blue, knitted quilt.

I was speechless. Most by the fact that Sandy had the audacity to even tell this girl everything of the past and that I was nothing but a mere memory without my knowledge of it. I certainly haven't forgiven them, even after that period of time. I guess that's what happens after a feud from the past, things just slowly disappear. Sure, I still hate the Guardians, but it's not like I died from that ending of the war.

I got a massive headache from that constant thinking. Forgiveness...that word is so foreign from me, along with many other things...like toothbrushes. I finally squinted my eyes, not realizing that this little girl turned on her bedside lamp, wanting to see me better.

"Gee, you wear a lot of black. Is that your favorite color?" she asked.

I blinked at her, unamused. "No."

"Oh. My favorite color is white." the nine year old smiled brightly, "Wanna know why?"

"No, I really don't-"

"Because it's the color of vanilla ice cream and snow and polar bears and frosting and wedding dresses! Oh, and daisies. They're my favorite flower." the girl blurted, throwing her arms up in the air excitedly.

I stared at her, wishing I had a stone wall to bash my head in. God, this girl is going to be the end of me. Here I am, no longer remembered for the Nightmare War, it's been twenty years of silence, and now I'm finding myself stuck with a nine year old that just won't shut up and go to bed.

I guess I can't be too grumpy about it. After all, she's one of the few kids who believes in me. Plus, she isn't afraid. It gets boring having so many children hate and fear the sight of you.

"Wanna see my dolls? I don't have much, but my sister makes a lot of them for me." the little girl held up a yellow yarn doll, with blue button eyes and flaming red yarn hair, wearing a pink shirt and corduroy overalls.

Now that's definitely new. Not everyone nowadays hand makes toys, just big bustling companies. For a handmade craft, her sister did a good job. She must be older judging by the amount of detail in the doll the girl was showing me.

"Her name is Jenna. She likes raisin bread and is best friends with Princess Ruby," and the girl held up another doll, but it was antique looking and wore a dark red princess dress and had raven black hair. That one looked pleasing, only because it looked like some demon would possess. That would definitely scare this child.

"What is your name, child?" I asked, sitting down next to her. Surely I had to know, since this was the first child in centuries that wasn't terrified of me.

"Sadie Angela Xaviers." she proudly said, "Are you really named Boogieman?"

"Yes and no. My real name is Pitch Black." I chuckled at her curiosity.

She raised a brow, "Isn't that a color?"

I gave her a disapproving look, and she giggled at the face I made. She then planted one of her other yarn dolls into my hands and said, "This is Paul! He's really into surfing. He has a crush on Princess Ruby, too. Let's play together!"

For a second, I thought of just throwing the doll down and walking back into the darkness of her closet and never returning. I would never want to actually associate with children besides meddling with their dreams and morphing them into nightmares. That's it! I mean, in the past, I would have just walked away from this ridiculous and foolish child. But now? I guess I must have slowly started developing a nesting syndrome or wanting some sort of attention, because the next thing I knew I was making this yarn doll named Paul walk over to a small, plastic blue surf board on Sadie's bed, and she made Princess Ruby twirl around and cheer Paul for winning some sort of surfing competition.

The next thing I knew, the door to Sadie's room flew open, causing my blood to freeze. Sadie looked up, and blushed a bright pink at the woman that stood with her hands on her hips, impatiently waiting for an excuse.

"Sadie, who are you talking to?" this woman asked, her dark eyes locked on Sadie. I swear, if those eyes were locked on me I would probably be rendered speechless, for they were sharp and bright, like nighttime stars. Then again, I was already. And she didn't even notice my presence.

"Pitch Black!" Sadie grinned and pulled at my robe, "he's the Boogieman. We were playing with dolls."

The older girl pressed her lips together, holding back a burst of laughter. I narrowed my eyes at this woman. That was quite rude. She finally took in a breath and said through controlled giggles, "Really? I thought the Boogieman was a big terrifying ghoul."

"HEY!" I shouted, standing up. I was severely offended! Who wouldn't be when they were insulted like that? Does this woman even realize the power I possess to scare the living daylights out of her? How dare she mock me!

Sadie looked at me, terrified. The older girl in the doorway raised a brow, unsure why Sadie looked so frightened. I was so angry I was sure my nostrils were flaring.

"Alice, take it back!" Sadie exclaimed, jumping off the bed and trying to wrap her arms around my legs. I grew stiff and uncomfortable at the touch. I never liked physical touch. I liked my own personal space, the personal bubble I successfully built. And this immature child is breaking the boundary.

"What? What did I say?" she said, and I could tell she was starting to get nervous.

"He's really mad! You said something mean." Sadie begged, running over to this woman named Alice and shaking her hand, "Please! Say you're sorry to him!"

Alice looked in the direction of where Sadie pointed, right at me, but I could tell she saw nothing but the wall behind me, where Sadie's toy chest was.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Mr. Boogieman?" it came out more as a question than a true apology.

"You're rude. What I wouldn't give to wipe off that look on your face with a nightmare." I grouched, folding my arms.

Sadie grimaced, and Alice asked her what was wrong. "Pitch said you're not being honest with your apology. Come on, say you're sorry for real!" Sadie begged once more, pulling at her hand.

"How can I when I can't see him?" she asked, touching Sadie's head gently.

Sadie noticed how my shoulders slumped in defeat, and she panicked. She pulled Alice into her room and held her hand out, "Pitch, touch her hand!"

I shook my head, "It doesn't matter, child. I'll just-"

Indeed, when Sadie grabbed my hand and brought our hands together, my hand just phased through her skin, blue mist swirling from the contact. Sadie watched in pure awe at the magic. This surely was something she didn't see every day, but it was something I was so used to. The pain of being ignored just felt numb to me nowadays. I was about to turn away and disappear into the darkness of the room when I heard the older girl say, "Wait. I felt something."

"You...you did?" Sadie asked, looking up at her.

Now that I looked at this woman, she must have been no older than twenty one. Her auburn hair perfectly framed her face, and she almost reached my shoulders in height. Her eyes were so bright...I couldn't help but just...stare in wonder. They say the eyes were the doors to the soul, and for a while I didn't believe that. I considered that just a stupid romantic line used by wannabe poets. But...by God, were they right.

"I felt...something cold." Alice nodded, and then turned to Sadie again, "Is he still here?"

"Yeah. He's standing right in front of you." Sadie pointed to me, and I couldn't help but look away.

"Will...will you tell me anything he says to me?" Alice asked, and Sadie obediently nodded.

It was silent for a while, with Alice staring at my collar bone, not really knowing how tall I was or even if I was in front of her. I guess she assumed I was eye to eye with her. Why couldn't she see me if she was sure she felt something when our hands touched? Whenever someone would walk right through me or phase through my body, I felt cold and like a hollow shell. It's the worst feeling to ever come to a being. In the worst of times, to me, death was a better option than enduring the coldness and emptiness that overwhelmed my body when something like this occurred.

But knowing that she felt it too, made the agony of such contact endurable.

"Are you her sister?" I asked, not looking away from Alice.

Sadie delivered my question, and the girl smiled. I could tell she was starting to think Sadie was making it up, "Yes, I'm Sadie's older sister."

"Where are your parents?" I asked again, and I noticed how Sadie hesitated.

"I can't ask her that, Pitch. She doesn't like talking about it." Sadie sadly said, looking at Alice apologetically.

"What? What did he say?" her older sister looked nervous.

"He...he's wondering where Mommy and Daddy are. Why they aren't here with us." Sadie nervously fiddled with her fingers nervously.

I noticed how stiff and quiet she got, and she didn't respond. She stared at her own feet, snugly inside two blue slippers. She must have been woken up by Sadie's play before she came in here.

"Tell him I don't feel like talking about it. It's a sensitive topic." Alice murmured, before turning to Sadie, "I think it's time for you to go back to bed. It's four in the morning. You have school today, so you need your sleep."

"Aww, but can't I stay up? I fell asleep at seven anyways! That's…" Sadie counted on her fingers, "nine hours of sleep! I have enough." she finished with a huffy fold of her arms.

I laughed, and Sadie smiled up at me. "You tell your sister that I think you're highly amusing, little one."

"Pitch says I'm funny." Sadie beamed happily.

"Well, you tell Pitch that I think so too, but you still need your sleep." Alice smiled brightly, ruffling Sadie's light brown hair, still slightly messed up from sleep.

"That I agree with." I nodded, and Sadie whined.

"I take it the Boogieman agrees with me by that little tantrum?" Alice grinned, and Sadie grouchily nodded, her arms still folded on her chest.

Even after Sadie was tucked back into bed with her teddy bear and two yarn dolls snuggled into her arms, Alice lingered at the doorway, her eyes surveying everything in the room before shutting the lights back off.

With that, she was gone.

I should have realized then and there, visiting these two would become something close to a drug.