A/N: Hi! I'm sorry for the long update.

I'd just like to say that for the purposes of this story, I'm changing Jamie's and Sophie's ages. Jamie would be around 16, while Sophie would be 13 for this story.

Again, sorry for the wait. Please carry on, read, then review and tell me what you think. :)

Chapter 1

The children of Burgess reluctantly gathered around the dilapidated bed marking the entrance to Pitch's lair. The snowstorm had temporarily calmed down enough for them to be outside. Usually, this would make them happy for then it would mean that they could finally have their snow day. Their normally cheerful faces were grim, however, as they looked at one another, strengthening their resolve to visit the once feared Boogeyman. The times when snow had brought them joy were long gone, and as they watched bits of ice drift down from the sky, they couldn't help but feel wary of it.

Sighing, Jamie watched as they finally looked up to him, the oldest among them, for orders – wait no, not orders, instructions. Orders make them sound like soldiers, like they were fighting a war. He grimaced at the thought. But then, as he recalled the beginnings of rebellions that they were planning, he realized that they might as well be starting one.

"Jamie."

Jamie blinked rapidly, shaking his thoughts off his head. Pasting on a reassuring smile, he immediately uttered a reply.

"Sorry, Soph. I was just thinking."

Sophie frowned. "Now isn't the time to be drifting off, you know."

Jamie gazed at his sister steadily, noting the serious stern expression that had once been a rarity on her face. He didn't like that she had to grow up so fast. A flicker of remorse went through him as he remembered the little happy girl hopping as she chased her favorite guardian.

He quickly banished his train of thought as his sister leveled a disapproving look at him, looking, as if she knew what he was thinking about. He sighed again, and glanced back at the children, who were waiting for his words.

"We're here," he started, "because we're believers. Believers of the guardians, of those who once swore to protect us. You know them as the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Sandman and Santa Claus. But they… they're gone now. They're not here anymore, which means that they can't help us. The guardians are no longer with us."

He briefly paused. "But there are others."

Jamie's eyes flickered downward towards the deep dark hole under the bed.

"Pitch Black is not a guardian," he continued, "but—"

"But he's the Boogeyman! He gives us nightmares— "

"And Jack Frost gives us a dead eternal winter," Sophie interrupted, glaring at the defiant child who had spoken up.

Jamie inwardly flinched at the blunt statement, but nonetheless, let it pass.

"We can ask for his help," Jamie stated convincingly.

A ripple of unease went through the children, memories of fear surfacing in their minds.

"But will he really help us?" questioned a familiar looking little brunette girl, her hands tugging on the sleeve of his sweater.

'Cupcake's little sister,' he realized.

Gently patting the girl's head, he softly replied, "That's why we're asking him."

'It isn't hard at all getting into Pitch's lair,' Jamie thought. All they had to do was jump down into the dark tunnel. Surveying his surroundings, Jamie was surprised that he didn't even feel slightly threatened at the slivers of black sand sifting around him. Was it supposed to be this easy?

Motioning the rest to follow him, he walked a few paces into what appeared to be an underground cavern. Looking around, he then noticed the nightmares beginning to surround them.

"Jamie," Sophie cautioned, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He blinked, watching as black sand suddenly materialized in front of him.

"Pitch," he greeted amiably.

The aforementioned Boogeyman raised a brow. "Jamie Bennett," he said plainly, a touch of velvet coating his tone. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Jamie then smiled diplomatically. "We just want to know whether or not you would be willing to help us."

Pitch stared at the boy. What? His eyes narrowed at the disguised plea for help.

"And why, pray tell, should I do that?" he silkily whispered.

There was a slight shift in the boy's countenance. "Because," Jamie reasoned, "you despise Jack Frost."

Pitch's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, obviously not expecting that specific answer.

With calculating eyes, Pitch decided to observe the boy – a teenager, who was trying to play leader. Jamie Bennett, he noticed, was no longer the hopeful idealist that he was when he was ten. After feeling the boy's aura (and noting that the boy didn't feel fear), he noticed some tinges of remorse and weariness mixed together. The boy was hardened. And as his eyes darted towards the sister and the rest of the children, he realized that they were as well.

He didn't expect this.

"What are children doing here?" he asked instead.

Jamie frowned, catching the subtle misdirection of their conversation.

"They're here," Sophie explained impatiently, "because they have nowhere else to go."

"Nowhere else to go?" Pitch returned smoothly. "Do they not have families to return to?"

"…We're being hunted down," Jamie hesitantly admitted. "We don't know how or why, but it seems that Jack has been hunting down believers."

At that, Pitch was left in stunned silence. In the past, he used fear to conquer people's hearts and their minds. There was a time when he used that fear to eliminate the beliefs that the children held on to the Guardians with. There was a time when he nearly succeeded, when he used fear and anxiety to conquer the mind of the boy in front of him now – the last believer of the Guardians. But he was stopped by the then newly minted guardian, Jack Frost.

But now, it seems that Jack Frost or rather Jokul Frosti is continuing what he had done.

What an unexpected turn of events.

Recovering himself, Pitch met the expectant gazes of the Bennett siblings and deadpanned, "How ironic it is that the altruistic guardian who sought to protect children and their beliefs is now insane and is seeking to destroy them. It sounds like a poetic tragedy."

"So are you willing to help us or not?"

Pitch's gaze shifted to the girl, answering her question with his own. "Why should I?"

"Because you hate Jack," Jamie repeated. "And right now, he's been succeeding in everything that you've failed in."

"So?"

"So you have an incentive."

Pitch sneered. "I believe that a proper incentive should contain benefits instead of insults."

Jamie smiled, unfazed. "Very well. Your memories then."

Pitch froze. "Pardon?"

"Help us, shield us, give us what we need, and we'll give you your memories that you had when you were a mortal," Jamie bargained, extending his hand out.

Pitch considered the hand that was stretched outward towards him. Deciding to pointedly ignore it, he gave his answer.

"Very well."

Jamie smirked, bringing his hand down. "Great. Nice to have you on the team."