Things were almost always calm in towns like this. It was small and secluded, far from bigger civilizations and the troubles which larger populations often brought. Jack came across places like these on occasion, sometimes they would turn out to be filled with opportunities. But more often they would turn out to be filled with dreary old adults with not a trace of any sense of humor. He did manage to have fun occasionally, even if it meant savoring the simple things. Simple things like watching a clueless pedestrian stagger around wondering where the snowball that just struck them in the dome came from.

At night, though, there was literally nothing to be done. Except maybe count stars. Jack was never really fond of sleeping even though he technically could, he was always afraid he'd miss out on something if he did. Right now though, hanging out in someone's spare room and lounging on its spacious bed which was covered in a generous amount of blankets and pillows, he was beginning to reconsider.

For a long time he just laid there quietly on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling and the vacant light affixed. His staff was lying beside him, taking up an entire side of the bed with even a pillow all to itself.

What else was there to do, anyway? He'd been through the same routine many times before, towns like this simply didn't have the level of excitement he required on a daily basis. If anything, sleeping was a reasonable way to pass the time.

His mind made up, he turned onto his side and pulled a spare pillow down to cuddle with. Hugging it tightly, he nuzzled his face into it, the fluffy down feathers giving just enough resistance to provide the perfect snuggle partner; it was obvious these people never had many guests stay the night.

He relaxed with a soft little sigh. Although he had only slept a handful of times in all the hundreds of years he existed, that pleasant tired feeling was never hard to recapture.

Peaceful darkness gripped him, and for a while, the dreams gifted to him were good; they were normal.

Until he started to fall. Normally this would signal it was time to wake up, but not now. Something was different. He lacked the fear and desperation one would normally feel during a 'falling dream', in fact, he felt no fear at all as he fell, deeper and deeper into a dark black pit.

There was only a strange determination in his mind, a deep sort of alien desire. He landed lightly upon warm dark stone. This place was familiar. The cavern which stretched out before him, spiked cages strung up on the ceiling by thick black chains. No, he could never forget this place.

He walked toward the cages, staring up at them, at first believing that's what his destination was simply because memory dictated. Behind the bars of those which once held Tooth's little hummingbirds, he saw shadows fluttering crazily within. They looked like gigantic moths with bat wings, crazily circling each other in a dizzying sort of chaos.

Slowly he turned, heading down a narrow staircase instead. The place held no realistic layout considering he'd only traversed it a limited amount of times, but he turned and entered the first doorway which presented itself only to walk into yet another room he was familiar with.

The same dark stone which made up the whole cavernous lair stretched out before him and dropped off at either sides into nothingness. A huge three-dimensional map of the world stood as a centerpiece, looking as if it, too, had been carved from the stone. Brightly glowing dots adorned the surfaces of the continents like city lights at night. After taking a few steps inside, he stopped when he came to the realization that the sharp, narrow shadow which resided near the edge of the walkway was not, in fact, just a shadow.

Bright yellow eyes pierced the darkness, locking on to him in a stare intense enough to make him pause mid-step. There were no words spoken, Pitch simply attacked. He came at him in a wave of malevolent shadows which struck Jack before he could even think to stop it; not that he felt the need to for some strange reason.

There was no fear or anger in these moments as they fell together. Enveloped in utter darkness, Jack could not see the Boogeyman but he could feel him. He grabbed onto his robe, clutching at his sides; he wanted nothing more than to be closer. Pressed harder against him.

The desire made no sense, but neither did anything else.

"I don't want to fight," Jack whispered in his ear.

Suddenly they were stationary, presumably at the floor of the cave due to the high ceiling riddled with massive stalactites high above them. Pitch was on top of him, staring down at him with marked confusion.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, repeating it as he reached up and briefly, lovingly, caressed the side of Pitch's face.

The Boogeyman looked as if he didn't know whether to be angry or receptive, but he wasn't backing off just yet. Feeling as if his time was somehow running out, Jack was quick to grab on to him and pull him down closer. He wrapped his legs around Pitch's waist, just as he forced him into a kiss.

It was quick to become heated; the Boogeyman did not resist at all after their lips met. The euphoria Jack felt just from the acceptance was otherworldly. He moaned into the kiss, running his hands over Pitch's back as he rocked his hips against him. His desperation was met in kind, until the Boogeyman broke the kiss to hold himself up with his arms again, arching on top of Jack since the frost boy had him well and truly secure with his legs.

Jack reached up and ran his hands over Pitch's chest, not wanting to break the contact for even a moment. The look on the Boogeyman's face was almost one of torment, helpless and aroused.

"Jack..." he moaned breathlessly.

At the sound of his voice, consciousness briskly returned. Jack woke up, pillow still clutched tightly to his body. Golden, sparkling dust caught the sunlight as it fell from above and scattered over the bed, shimmering one last time before disappearing.

He didn't have time to feel bewildered or ashamed about the dream he'd just had, for he was currently experiencing a state of arousal he hadn't previously known existed. Not caring about subjecting a stranger's pillow to his own twisted desires, he ran his hands down it to get a better hold as he began grinding up against it.

With the pleasure of his dream still fresh in his mind, he reached his peak within seconds. Shuddering and gasping for breath, he clutched the pillow even tighter to his body until the throbbing ebbed. Going slack after the fact, he tried to regulate his breathing and calm his body down.

When the haze began to clear, the gravity of what had just happened dawned on him. Had that been a nightmare? He'd seen the dust after he woke up, but it had been golden, hadn't it? No, that was just a trick of the light... It had to have been.

Quickly he got up and grabbed his staff, but he paused. Looking back at the bed, he pondered a moment before going back over and adjusting the pillows exactly as they had been before. After that, he left as discreetly as he'd arrived.

It was just a weird dream, he reasoned; nothing to get worked up over. He'd forget about it in a week for sure.

Perching on top of a nearby house, he began scanning the streets for something to do.

Besides, it was probably just symbolism, like all dreams are, or so he'd read in one of the many books over at the North Pole. Too bad he'd neglected to look up what... naughty dreams about people meant. The fact it had been about him and Pitch was a little distressing though.

Extremely distressing, actually.

It wasn't that the thought was a horrible one, a fact alone which made him feel shame the likes of which was enough to cause him to trip on his own ice; he just really, really did not want to believe he could have a dream like that without outside influence.

What was the guy up to, anyway? He hadn't heard from him since the big battle, which could have been years ago now. All he'd seen of the Boogeyman was the occasional Nightmare lurking the streets of the larger cities at night, and Jack always steered clear of those. They were a normal occurrence, long before he'd learned much about who Pitch even was, and he wasn't about to change his attitude about never going near the beasts unless doing so was absolutely necessary.

If his dream had been tainted, it probably meant a bigger problem was soon to come. Either that, or Pitch was toying with him in ways he never wanted to imagine he could.

There was only one problem with both theories, however; the very prominent lack of the thing required for a dream to be a nightmare: Fear. And that was the only thing which the Boogeyman could inflict on others.

Sitting on the rooftop as he continued to watch the streets, Jack ran his hand over his face, frustrated. Over-thinking things always tended to make him dreary, not to mention it gave him a headache.

Forgetting about it was definitely the best option.

Standing up to scan the town one more time, he briskly took off toward another section of it; moving fast as if literally trying to ditch his own thoughts. He landed lightly on the edge of a high chimney this time. From there, he had an excellent view of the town as well as the surrounding forest thick with spruce trees.

It was incredibly peaceful out here this early in the morning. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, not yet visible over the treeline. Apparently it was a weekend as well, judging by the amount of people sleeping in or taking the opportunity to hole up inside.

Jack sighed. There were other cities to try, at least. He just preferred not to migrate more than once every two weeks. So far it had only been five days.

At this rate, it was going to be excruciating trying to forget anything at all.

((()))

The next city would turn out to be three times larger, but unfortunately it was dark by the time he got there.

Perched on the tallest building to survey the area, he idly twirled his staff to stir the weather a bit. He could never arrive somewhere new without gracing it with at least three feet of snowfall.

As he slowly spun around, taking in the sights, he couldn't help but get a little excited; this place looked so much more promising than the last. Come daylight he would be having a ball, there was no doubt in his mind.

Stepping off the ledge of the building, he rode the wind all the way down to the sidewalk and landed weightlessly. None of the people strolling down the same path acknowledged him at all, but that was expected.

He put up his hood and walked on, observing the dark shops and buildings which towered above the rest. Pausing at the edge of the block, he leaned against a stop sign and looked up at the dark gray sky. A snowflake graced his cheek and refused to melt. Softly he sighed, not paying attention to a person who walked past him to cross the street. It was rare he got on their level and stayed for long. The melancholy which shrouded most mortals was contagious, but he supposed he couldn't really blame them.

After a moment of watching the snow, he realized it was no longer falling straight. He stepped away from the pole looked around. The wind had apparently picked up. Freshly fallen snow as well as the crystals which hadn't yet touched the ground were being caught and thrown with it, causing a white-out effect every time a gust whipped through the area. His brow furrowed with concern.

Quickly he whisked himself up to the rooftops again, the landing not nearly as graceful as it usually was. Snow was being blown off the roof, billowing around him and shimmering as it mixed with that already airborne.

It was beautiful, really. Jack was momentarily mesmerized as he watched the snow swirl and whip through the air. The wind was intensifying. The people which remained on the streets pulled their coats tighter around themselves and started hurrying to take refuge. Those in vehicles may have been protected from the harsh conditions, but with the snow whirling around it was a miracle they could see anything at all beyond their windshields.

There was a rhythmic, crisp sound which suddenly alerted Jack to something closing in behind him. He barely had time to stagger sideways before the dusky form of a Nightmare came raging past him. It leaped from the building's ledge, into the chaos of the blizzard and down to the streets below.

Bracing himself with his staff, Jack took a moment to calm his nerves only to notice the odd glowing points across from him. The ominous form of another Nightmare stood staring from the building at the opposite side of the street. For a second his breathing stopped, but the beast simply turned and disappeared.

Accidentally turning out a blizzard was nothing unusual for Jack, especially when he wasn't feeling up to par. Having not one, but two Nightmares purposefully show themselves to him during one however, was a little weird.

Was Pitch trying to get his attention? If so, he was doing a good job.

Jack shook his head as if to clear it. He was thinking of the Boogeyman way too much lately. Following that thought were memories of his dream the night before, and his legs immediately went weak.

Yes it was official. He was thinking of Pitch way, way too much. So why didn't he want to stop?

Stepping back, he looked around at the freezing chaos. The rushing wind whistling through the cracks and crevices of the buildings around him was loud and relentless; sounding like a bizarre kind of music to his ears. He bit his lip, hard, trying to regain his composure but all he wanted to do was curl up in a dark corner somewhere to hide; which was exactly what he ended up doing. Sneaking in through the window of the building he'd been standing on, he slipped behind some dusty old boxes to huddle up there.

He bit his own hand, eyes shut tight as he struggled to subdue the burning need rising inside himself again. Squeezing his legs together, a helpless little whimper escaped him. It wasn't easy, but he managed to bury the thoughts once more and slowly calm down. His head fell back against the musty smelling cardboard behind him and he relaxed, panting.

After about a second of listening to the wind howling, there came the telltale sound of horse hooves against floorboards. Jack went absolutely still, his brilliant blue eyes wide. There came one snort, and then all was quiet. It was behind him, just on the other side of the boxes he was leaning against. A Nightmare, there was nothing else it could have been.

What was it doing here?

He reached over and placed his hand on his staff, gripping it tightly as those hooves drew steadily closer. The creature didn't even bother with pausing again; its massive head emerged from behind the boxes, bright eyes glowing like fire within its skull.

Jack was the first to make a move, leaping to his feet and lashing out violently with his staff. A great wave of ice and snow rushed forth, throwing a couple large boxes aside as if they were empty. The Nightmare came apart, its body turning to dust the second his attack touched it.

The shadowy particles caught the ice as they were thrown upward, freezing solid into a freakish shape near the far wall; like a giant spiked millipede strewn across the room, attached only to the floor and ceiling.

Jack stared at it for a long time, reminded instantly of the conversation he'd had with Pitch, together in the snow that one time. It bore a striking resemblance to the sculpture they'd accidentally created together.

His train of thought derailed when he noticed the shadow particles collecting on the floor in streams to flow through the cracks in the floorboards and window. Outside the blizzard was still raging; he could only imagine the fleeing dust would simply be scattered, but then again he had no real clue how Nightmares worked.

Turning his attention to the boxes that had been thrown, he could see their contents had been scattered over the floor; old dusty metal parts and cans of paint.

For a long time he just stood there staring, listening to the restless wind's howl while his thoughts wandered.

A Nightmare had come right to him ...that was the last straw. Something was up, and he was going to find out what.

Heading over to the window he'd come in from, he carefully avoided his dangerous-looking ice sculpture on the way there. Shoving the window wide open, he did not flinch when the violent weather forced itself inside. Streams of snowflakes curled about him as the wind whipped past, and he glanced one last time at the freak ice formation behind him before he climbed on through.