A/N: Yeahh just disregard anything I mention that has to do with updates since I'm obviously not listening to myself. Oh well. u

(By the way, in this chapter, I try to get a little bit of Jack's emotional teenage side. It's nothing dramatic, but I mean, he's spent 300 years in angst about being invisible. I wanted to give him to chance to complain about something else for a change, something that's not actually as bad as he thinks it is. Kind of like how teenagers sort of blow things out of proportion? Well-you'll see.)

Jack and Sandman were in the sky, staring down below at the urban setting. The city looked very nice. Jack didn't know exactly where they were, somewhere in Europe maybe, but the view was breathtaking. The lights were still glowing and a thin layer of fog was settling over the streets, courtesy of Jack. He was sitting on Sandman's cloud of dreamsand, observing the golden tendrils as they found their way to the sleeping children in their homes.

As the sand swirled through the air, they took on different forms to suit the preferences of the kids. Jack saw animals, a castle, and a baseball bat, even a dancing snowman. That one in particular brought a smile to his face. Jamie and his friends loved making snowmen at the park.

"That reminds me," Jack said, turning to Sandman suddenly. "Jamie has a babysitter, can you believe that?" He shook his head.

Sandman was hardly paying attention; he just nodded at the sound of Jack's voice. The little man had work to do, and frankly, Jack was being a bit distracting. He wasn't trying to be rude, but Sandman had to tune out Jack's ramblings while he worked on distributing the dreams. The winter spirit continued anyway:

"I met her a few weeks back, and it's crazy, Sandy. She can actually see me! I should be excited, but I don't really think it's a good thing though. She always gets quiet when I'm there with the kids and she acts like I'm nothing special."

There was defiance in Jack's voice because he had always felt like Brooke was judging him. She looked at him as though she expected something better and Jack was a disappointment.

Jack's voice was getting louder as he spoke, his voice gradually increasing in volume along with exasperation. Sandman quirked an eyebrow, and glanced back at the young Guardian, pausing for a moment. The boy in blue now seemed to just be talking for the sake of talking.

"Ever since that time at Jamie's house, she wouldn't bother coming near me. She stays on the porch while the kids play in the snow. It's pretty boring, actually. I guess she's not as much fun as Jamie said—"

He was cut off by Sandman holding a finger in his face. If Jack was going to stick around and be a distraction, this would be a long night for the both of them, and Sandman didn't appreciate people making him late. His stern expression was enough for Jack to cease talking, and the winter spirit put his hands up in surrender. Jack frowned, lightly pushing away Sandman's finger and putting his head in his hands.

"Sorry, Sandy," the boy said. "Didn't mean to bother you like that."

Something wasn't right with the young Guardian, and it was obvious to Sandman that Jack had a lot on his mind. That was unusual, since Jack normally spent his time trying to make winter as much fun as possible. There wasn't much room for deep thinking when you were pelting snowballs at unassuming passerby.

Deciding that maybe Jack needed a little help with his problems, Sandman put a hand on Jack's shoulder, and as the younger Guardian looked up, a question mark appeared above Sandman's head. He raised his eyebrows, too, for good measure.

Jack sighed and leaned back, supporting his upper body weight by placing his hands slightly behind him. He tilted his head up towards the sky, staring at the stars. After a moment he said, "Her name is Brooke. Brooke Winters. She's seventeen, according to Jamie."

Sandman stood back and crossed his arms, shooting Jack a skeptical look.

"No really!" Jack chuckled at Sandman's face. "Anyways, Sandy, she believes. In all of us, including me. She saw me! It's crazy, right?"

The little man nodded, gesturing for Jack to continue. It really wasn't that far fetched. Long before Jack became Jack Frost, Sandman remembered how easy it was for even adults to believe in the guardians. As time went on, however, that faith seemed to be a luxury reserved for children as the stories passed down the generations. The young ones were always the most impressionable, but much of the older folk had thought themselves more "reasonable" than their ancestors and such.

Now that Jack actually had Sandman's undivided attention, he was beginning to feel self-conscious about what he was saying. "I mean, I guess it's not a big deal. But when I came back to Burgess, the kids ditched me for her."

So that was the problem. Sandman could understand Jack's distress. After three hundred years of being invisible, those kids were the first to see the winter spirit, and Jack was overjoyed. He was eternally grateful to those children, and all the other Guardians knew that Jack had a special place in his heart for the Burgess kids, as they all had. To have something people so precious to him being taken away would be horrible.

In an attempt to comfort Jack, Sandman pounded his small fist into his other hand, giving him a serious look. For a moment, Jack didn't understand what he meant. Once he realized it, his eyes widened and Jack shook his head.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Come on, Sandy. You wouldn't hit a lady." Jack stopped short, scrutinizing Sandman's face. "Would you?" he added.

Sandman shrugged as if it didn't make a difference to him. Jack shot the man a strange look before going on.

"Really, though, she isn't so bad," Jack admitted, slumping his shoulders. He took his staff and drew patterns in the air. Snowflakes materialized, popping up and remaining suspended in midair until Jack commanded them to fall with a downward flick of his wrist.

It wasn't that he didn't like Brooke. She was fine, but for some reason Jack liked being the center of attention with the kids. Maybe he was just selfish. Jack just enjoyed their company, and after being alone most of his life, he wasn't too fond of sharing.

Sandman decided at that moment to move onto the next town, and Jack waited while Sandman directed the cloud through the night sky. Watching the scenery go by in a blur, Jack thought a little bit more about why he was so bothered by Brooke's presence. She wasn't doing anything wrong, and she certainly didn't do anything outright against Jack.

"The kids like her a lot," Jack told Sandman as they moved along. "She listens to them and doesn't make them feel bad for believing in us. She's a little overly polite, though. She can cook well—" Jack actually wasn't sure about that one; he'd only seen Brooke make hot chocolate and canned soup "—and she's good at storytelling too. From what I've seen, she really knows how to keep the kids' attention. And she can be very persuasive sometimes."

Sandman's eyebrows rose up again. He couldn't look back while moving the cloud, however he knew what he heard. Before, Jack spoke of Brooke with a distasteful tone, but now it was turning into something else. Admiration? Respect, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was much more positive this time.

"To be honest, Brooke makes my job a lot easier: she knows how to invent games and always has new ideas to kill boredom. But…" Jack paused, an uncharacteristic pout forming at his lips. "I like my job, always have. I don't want someone else doing it. Even if she is great."

The golden man turned to face Jack and the dreamsand cloud slowed to a halt. He wasn't so sure if Jack was aware of the last part of the sentence because Jack seemed so distracted; his eyes were downcast, overlooking the new city below. He didn't even react to the fact that he had just paid the girl a direct compliment (albeit not in her presence).

Silently, as always, Sandman conjured up a new figure, this time in front of Jack's face to make sure the younger Guardian saw it. When Jack noticed the gold sand accumulated in front of his nose, he pulled back in surprise and held his hand out, palm up, underneath the clump of particles as if to support it. Hovering above Jack's palm was a small heart, and when he saw it, he rolled his eyes and waved his hand through the air, dissipating the image.

Sandman chuckled—at least it looked like he was laughing; there was no sound—when Jack looked back at him, but he appeared innocent and proceeded to spread his dreams to new children. Sandman had honestly just been teasing. He wanted to make sure Jack wasn't getting too lost in his thoughts. It wasn't good for anyone to think too much.

"Sandy, get real," Jack insisted, knowing full well that Sandman was still listening to him. "Even if it was like that, how would anything work out between us? I'm immortal and she's, well…not. It'd be a complete mess."

The older Guardian tilted his head, bewildered. Jack was never one to consider the consequences of his actions, no offense intended. For three hundred years, he had always been living in the now. He never really grew beyond the biological age he was eternally bound to. When did he start to act more mature? Sandman didn't have an answer.

Still, maybe romance was really out of the question for beings like them. Sandman himself, while being able to appreciate a beautiful face, was never particularly interested in finding someone. He only loved to sleep. Tooth was the only one in a long time to display the slightest attraction to anyone—namely, Jack—but her feelings soon turned towards a more maternal side and she treated Jack like she was a proud mother or older sister, though she was still quite enamored with his teeth.

Jack didn't speak for a while, and Sandman took his chance to turn away from the conversation. Dream magic was a delicate business, and while Jack was silent, Sandman found the opportunity to resume his work uninterrupted.

Unbeknownst to Sandman, Jack was watching his work intently, his blue eyes following the dreamsand wherever it went and sighing in amazement. Jack would probably never get used to the sight; it was beautiful. The dreams of children were more intricate than they seemed. They were all of a bright future, or a better life, the little joys of the world, or something great like that. There were even dreams of the Guardians, of meeting Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and the Sandman.

There were hardly any dreams about Jack Frost, despite the fact that he was now an official Guardian. People often associated Jack Frost everything bad that came with winter: the blizzards, the painful cold, and the slippery ice. Jack Frost was one to blame, not to praise. What people neglected to acknowledge was that the softness of the first snow, the land blanketed in pretty, sparkling white, and the laughter of kids having snowball fights or sledding or building snowmen were all because of Jack, too. But who would listen to anyone that tried to sell Jack Frost as the good guy?

Brooke, Jack thought.

That was the first name that popped into his mind. Not even Jamie. Although she didn't appear to have a fondness for Jack, Brooke just had this kind of open-mindedness about her. She would give any and all ideas a chance, no exceptions. That's why Jamie—no, that's why all the kids she meets like her so much. She encouraged imagination and creativity more than anyone else.

"You know Sandy," Jack said suddenly, causing the other Guardian to stop and turn to him again, "I don't think those kids need me. Maybe Brooke is a sign. It's been just over a year since the battle with Pitch, but I think they've moved on."

Okay, now Jack was just talking crazy. This time, Sandman completely stopped what he was doing, faced Jack, and put his hands on the other's shoulders, staring him in the eye. A series of golden sand figures popped up and disappeared over his head in quick succession as Sandy attempted to silently explain that the kids did need Jack.

Why wouldn't they need him? No one brought the fun like he did, and some new neighbor wasn't just going to change all of it. What Jack needed to realize was that whoever this Brooke girl was, she can't and won't replace him, especially in the eyes of those children. She was just new, that was all. Kids always loved new things for a while before becoming tired of them.

The white-haired boy raised an eyebrow at Sandman before giving him a small smile in gratitude. "Thanks buddy." He didn't understand all of it, but the feelings were evident and it touched Jack that Sandman tried at all. Looking around, Jack added, "I guess I should just…leave you to do your thing, huh?"

The stout man gave him a look like, Yes, please, and the winter sprite stood up on the cloud, bade Sandman goodbye, and called upon the wind to take him away. Sandman waved as Jack's figure flew beyond the clouds, and when he was gone, Sandman cracked his knuckles and smiled at the scenery below, ready to get to the next city over.

Finally, some quiet time, Sandman thought, a smidgen miffed that he was now behind schedule. He would have to relish it. Something told him that this wouldn't be the last time Jack would come to him to talk about "the babysitter."

Brooke's front porch was a really comfortable spot. On one side of the door, there was a cushioned bench to relax in and a circular table in front of it, kind of like a coffee table. On the other corner of the porch sat a rather inviting rocking chair, which was there for the sole reason of Brooke's dad wanting a rocking chair.

Jamie enjoyed the rocking chair, so naturally that's where he was sitting, while Brooke took a spot on the bench, reading a novel for school. It was the first time Jamie came to Brooke's house on a school day, so she was rather surprised to find the young boy knocking at her door. He told her that he wanted to wait outside, in case Jack would come back. The Guardian had made a few more visits to the kids since the day Brooke met him, and for some reason Jamie was bent on waiting with Brooke on this particular day. He explained that though his friends were also excited about Jack, they had other things to do.

At first, she was unsure about it, but in the end she relented and agreed to accompany Jamie outside, on the condition that he do his homework while they were on the porch. Jamie argued that he was planning on doing it anyway, but he gave Brooke the guilty look and wouldn't meet her eyes. She just laughed and ruffled his hair.

That's how they ended up on the porch, with Brooke reading something from Orwell or whomever and Jamie working on solving equations with fractions.

Out of nowhere, Jamie said, "I'm glad you came to Burgess, Brooke."

The teenager looked up from her novel, surprised. "Thanks, Jamie." She raised her eyebrows and added slowly, "How come?"

He was still focused on his math problem, and Jamie didn't look up while he talked. "I don't know," he told her with a small shrug. "No one else would wait outside with me like this. In fact, no one in this neighborhood besides my friends believes in Jack, either."

"I see." Brooke gave Jamie a reassuring smile. "Well, if you ever need me, you know where I'll be." She paused a moment, looking at the boy's expression. "Something else on your mind, sport?"

This time, Jamie sighed and looked up at her, tapping his pencil against the armrest of the chair. "People would think I'm crazy if I told them about the Guardians and how me and my friends met them. I don't like that. I think Jack deserves more people that believe in him, but I can't tell anyone." He sighed again. "They wouldn't listen if I told them."

Brooke pouted slightly. "I listened."

Jamie grinned brightly at Brooke. "Oh, yeah."

"Say, Jamie," Brooke began, setting her novel on the table. "Why do you like Jack so much anyways? Why not Santa, or the Easter Bunny?"

Out of all the stories that Jamie would tell, Jack Frost was the most frequent. Like the first time Jack and Jamie met, in Jamie's room of all places, or how Jack boldly sent a snowball hurling towards Pitch's face. But Brooke's favorite story had to be when, after the battle against Pitch and his nightmares, Jack assured Jamie that they'd always be in his heart, and that Jamie was a Guardian too. It was really cheesy, which of course was exactly the reason she adored it so much.

Brooke's question prompted Jamie to think a little bit. He loved all the Guardians, truly, but Jack especially. "He's like a brother," Jamie decided. "He watches over me and makes sure Sophie and I are happy."

"Sounds a bit like a guardian angel," Brooke noticed.

Jamie snorted with laughter. Jack, an angel? He was far from it, Jamie knew that much. Jack liked to make trouble and mess around. It was hardly saint-like. However, Jamie supposed that Brooke was right, in a way.

"It's my turn to ask a question," Jamie insisted enthusiastically. The unspoken rule between them was that if one of them asked a personal question, the other could ask them something too.

"Shoot," Brooke permitted.

"Why don't you look happy whenever Jack is here?"

Her eyebrows rose. "How do you mean?"

"You always have that thinking face." Jamie attempted to imitate Brooke's expression. He came pretty close, too. Brooke had to laugh.

"I don't know." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I'm not really excited when it's cold out."

The child thought about that statement for a moment. Brooke never did play much with them outside since the first snowfall in Burgess that year. She would wait at Jamie's porch, looking at them from a distance while she was bundled up in her scarf. She hadn't participated in a snowball fight or helped them build a snowman or made snow angels with them.

Once or twice though, Jamie would look back at Brooke and catch her leaning over the wooden railing, staring up at the clouds with her hand held out to catch the delicate snowflakes that floated down. Jamie thought he saw her smile those times, but she was always a bit too far to tell for certain.

"Why not?" Jamie pressed on with pleading eyes.

Brooke chuckled at him, bringing her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bench and folding her hands in her lap. She leaned against the back of the bench. "Remember how I told you about my mom passing away?"

Jamie nodded. It was shortly after they had met, and Jamie felt proud that Brooke confided in him. She never treated him like other people treated children; she knew he was old enough to understand. Jamie also felt like he could sort of relate, given that his parents had divorced just a few years after his birth. He didn't know where his dad had gone, and his mother usually never spoke of him.

"It was because…" Brooke trailed off a moment, trying to piece together an adequate explanation. "She died in a car accident during the winter. It was snowing a lot that day." She looked out at the road in front of her house. Snow wasn't falling at the moment, but the pavement was still damp from the melted ice. "During her funeral it was snowing, too."

"Oh." The kid was silent for a long time. He didn't know what to say to that, and he hoped he wouldn't need too. Brooke told the events as easily as if she were talking about what happened book she had been reading, but Jamie felt terrible: here he was, yammering on about how Jack was the greatest person in the world. Every time Brooke saw Jack, he was just another reminder of a sad time in her life. What do you say to someone when your hero is the one causing them pain?

Jamie felt the need to come to Jack's defense, just in case Brooke had any ill thoughts about him. "But Jack is really nice! It's not his fault, Brooke! He'd never do something like that, ever."

"I know." Brooke laughed. "Jack is nice, and I never would have known that without you, so thanks. It's the cold I don't like, not him. Now, go finish your homework, kiddo."

Jamie grinned wide with satisfaction, knowing that he'd done something good for Brooke. He didn't even complain about returning to his math problems. Brooke, on the other hand, didn't think about picking up her novel again to finish the chapter she was on. Instead, she let her mind wander, twiddling her thumbs. She glanced over at Jamie and tried to fathom just how much the Guardians meant to the boy.

Many people thought Brooke was just trying to hold onto her childhood by believing these "fictional" people. Others thought she was just saying it to humor others. Perhaps once Brooke had met someone who even thought she was actually insane. Behind her back, Brooke knew that there were people who blamed her late mother for her so-called obsession with myth.

When she was young, it was her mother that introduced Brooke to stories of Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Sandman. Her mother would tell tales of faraway lands full of magic and how these extraordinary individuals fought together to preserve happiness among the children of the world.

"I want you to learn about them, sweetheart," her mother would say. "Your father may not believe, but I do, and I want you to believe, too."

And thus, Brooke was heavily influenced by her mother's stories. She would anticipate the coming of the Sandman every night or squeal in delight whenever she lost a tooth. Brooke was one of the most enthusiastic egg hunters on Easter Sunday, and no one was happier to see Santa's presents than she.

The memory of her mother was probably why Brooke believed in all of them with such certainty and conviction. Moving to Burgess and meeting Jamie and Sophie and their friends, kids who also had a special attachment to the Guardians, was a welcome coincidence for her.

What caught her off guard was the existence of Jack Frost. It seemed as though the rest of the Guardians had such a grandeur atmosphere about them. Jack Frost looked like any other trouble-making teenager in the neighborhood (heck, that's who she thought he was at first), save for the unnaturally pale skin and hair. Plus the fact that he wore no shoes despite being in the snow all the time.

She couldn't place it, but Brooke expected something different. She had expected a Guardian to be someone who everyone could idolize and greatly respect, not a boy who was so comfortable playing around with kids. Brooke was looking for something more…professional.

Of course, she wasn't complaining about Jack's behavior in the slightest. It was nice to see the kids laughing with him and all. Brooke liked that someone was there to give the kids proof that the Guardians were still and would always be around. All Jack did was make his job a bit more personal.

"Brooke," Jamie called, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hm?" She turned to him and found that Jamie had finished his homework. He was thinking hard about something, rolling the pencil between his fingers and furrowing his brow.

"I really think you should've been there," he told her. "When Jack was fighting Pitch, I mean."

Here we go again, Brooke thought fondly. Jamie just loved talking about Jack.

"No, really." Jamie was trying to read Brooke's expression. "I think if you saw how cool he was, you wouldn't mind the cold so much. Instead of it reminding you of something bad, it would remind you of something good."

His demeanor was painfully innocent. Brooke didn't answer him back right away. Jamie only had well intentions, so she couldn't fault him for anything. However, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be reminded of Jack that often. It did snow quite a lot in Burgess.

"It's not really my thing, Jamie," Brooke admitted with a slight frown. "I can't do great stuff like you and your friends, or the Guardians. I couldn't fight Pitch or anything like that. I'm just your babysitter."

Her expression made Jamie sad. Then it made him defiant. Why couldn't Brooke do something like that? What made her so different from Jamie or the other kids? There wasn't a rule that said babysitters couldn't be great people, too.

"But don't you want to do something amazing?" Jamie insisted.

Brooke smiled, getting up off the bench and walking over to ruffle Jamie's hair. "Meeting you is pretty amazing, I think."

"You know what I mean," Jamie countered. He wasn't going to back down from this conversation.

"Well, Jamie, it's not that easy," Brooke chided. "It won't just happen out of the blue. Amazing takes time, you know?"

"Then we'll wait!" Jamie concluded. "I have a feeling it won't be long."

The babysitter chuckled without another word. She would just humor Jamie for now, but he'd soon realize that whatever he had in mind was probably not going to happen for Brooke. She didn't feel like she'd ever be ready to handle that kind of responsibility.

Maybe the kid has a point, Brooke, a small part of herself piped up. You should put yourself out there. You could be destined for great things.

Almost immediately her less optimistic side retorted sarcastically, Right, great things always come from the ordinary. Besides, I'm perfectly content with myself now.

They didn't see Jack that afternoon, and Jamie went home feeling a little disappointed, but he suspected that Jack was busy. The child stayed up in his room that night, long after his mother and Sophie had fallen asleep. He became so fixated on what Brooke said that he couldn't get any shuteye.

"I can't do great stuff…I'm just your babysitter."

The Sandman ought to have come by this time. Perhaps he was just late. Jamie slid out of his bed and paced around his room. He stopped in front of the black chest at the foot of his bed, knelt down, and opened it up. He rummaged through the items till he reached the bottom, pulling out a worn book of nursery rhymes and brushing the bit of dust off the cover.

The chest was put there just recently, and Jamie's parents had almost thrown the old book away, but Jamie took a particular interest in it. To keep it away from Sophie (he loved her and everything, but sometimes his sister had a tendency to lose things), he kept it at the bottom of the chest. Jamie wasn't sure what made him go to the book now, but he did. Maybe he was hoping that it would help him fall asleep.

As he flipped through the pages, Jamie noticed the pages were yellowed with age, but the printed words and illustrations stood out to him clearly. The assortment of short poems and comical pictures were always a comfort to Jamie, since his mother always read it to him when he was younger. Looking at the stories now, Jamie felt that they had an important connection to something. He couldn't figure out what exactly, but the longer he stared at the pages, the stronger the feeling became. Jamie closed the book to look at the cover. He ran his fingers over the title, which shone in gold letters under the moonlight that filtered through his window: Mother Goose's Nursery Rhymes.

Excited, Jamie took the book and brought it into bed with him so he could read by lamplight. When the child finally fell into slumber, he left the book open on his chest with the pages facing down, as if hoping the stories would imprint themselves on his heart while he slept.