Lost: Rise of the Guardians fanfiction

-Bunnymund-

Bunnymund saw Sandman as being weaker more so than the others did.

He was so much smaller than them—portly, and round, and always smiling, he could hardly be considered a threat. When Bunnymund had first been introduced to the golden cherub he had nearly laughed in his face when Sandman had stuck out a tiny hand to be shook.

"How can that dill be a Guardian?" he had hissed at North when Sandman was out of earshot. North had given him a long, tired look before turning away. And still, Bunnymund did not understand.

Sandman was not in the least bit intimidating. He always looked lost, wispy golden hair flickering about his head, and he walked on minuscule legs like a toddler. Sure he had that dreamsand, but the bludger hardly used it for anything other than picture-making. Sandman was like a little golden cotton-wrapped marshmallow. How could he protect himself, much less any children?

If Sandman noticed his disdain, he did not call attention to it.

And for a good fifty years, Bunnymund stubbornly kept this outlook, despite whatever Tooth might have done to try and dissuade him. He avoided the Sandman like the plague in the process, not trusting himself to hold himself back if they were in an enclosed space for too much time. Of course, Toothiana simply needed to stick her nose where it didn't belong and somehow cajoled him into accompanying Sandman on one of his rounds.

It had been fiercely windy that night—the air whistling eerily and brutally against them—but Bunnymund had no trouble keeping up with his fellow Guardian.

While his own movements were jerky and quick, nervous to a point, Sandman was slow and deliberate, floating above the rooftops on that demented sand cloud of his as he gave the children sweet dreams. His powers were as pathetic as he was.

And Bunnymund bored out of his skull and rather cold, has decided to be a hard-case.

"How much longer is this goin' to take? I've still got eggs to paint, mate. Why are you so short?"

It was a wonder that the Sandman didn't whack him off the roof. But the golden being, saintly as he was, ignored Bunny's jibes and continued weaving his dreamsand. Neither of them saw the black shadow until it had wrapped itself around Bunnymund's ankle.

Dragged off the rooftop with a shriek, Bunny hit the pavement of the adjacent alleyway with a groan as the air left his lungs in a whoosh. He felt more than saw Sandman drift down beside him, but he held up a paw to stop the tiny being from advancing once he heard the thick laughter echoing off the alley walls. He swore.

"Sandman, I need ya' to get back to the Pole—alert North and Tooth, I'll need their help—"

Sandman brushed past him without looking back, golden cloud dissipating as his feet touched the ground. The small golden man was positively diminutive when compared to the thick darkness surrounding them. In that moment Bunnymund was sure that the Guardian of Dreams was crazy, stupid, or both.

Pitch had barely stepped out of the shadows, Bunnymund's heart hammering in his chest at his only second glimpse of the Nightmare King, when Sandman was in his face, the sand images above his head contorting and shifting and spinning to demonstrate his anger. Pitch laughed.

"I was only having some fun, Sandy. You Guardian types do know how to have fun don't you?"

Sandman's answer was to glower, and for a pair of twin whips to form in his hands. Bunnymund watched with mouth agape as the tiny, innocent looking butterball turned into a golden warrior, shifting into a fighting stance.

Pitch's features darkened. "Fine. We'll do this another night, then." He glanced toward Bunny, gold eyes flickering in amusement. "Until next time, rabbit."

Once the chill had left the air as did Sandman's whips. When he turned back to Bunnymund he was all smiles and sand-pictures, offering to continue on his rounds without him if he wanted go back to the Warren. But Bunnymund stuck with Sandman, because at that moment, as some part of him still quivered and cowered in fear, a budding respect for the Sandman grew.

Instead of telling the ancient warrior being this, he only grinned crookedly. "Just make sure no boogie man tries to gut me again, Sandy, and you've got yuh'self some company."

And Bunnymund would stay at his friend's side—because Sandman was so much stronger than all of them.

-Nicholas St. North-

"I am telling you, Sandy, as I have been telling you, I do not need sleep!"

Sandman floated closely behind the broad-shouldered man, having given up on walking if he wanted to keep up with Santa Claus, and with his small arms folded his chest, his expression was the picture of stubbornness.

He signed quickly, a volley of images forming and disappearing over his head— a calendar, Christmas tree, a caricature of a sleeping North, and finally the disapproving face of Sandman himself— but North did not even spare the Guardian of dreams a backward glance.

"Yes, I know Christmas is not for five months, Sandy. But net, no, sleep will do me no good." North spread his arms in what might have been an apologetic gesture if his attention had not been focused on the toys his yetis were building in his bustling workshop. "Not Christmas enough paint it red," he said to one of the yeti, ignoring the agonized groan he received in return.

At the incessant tugging at his sleeve, North finally turned to look the unwavering Sandman in the eye. "Come now, my friend, why are you so worried about my sleep?"

Sandman sent him in incredulous look, rising a foot higher out of indignation, and gesticulated pointedly toward himself.

North rolled his eyes. "Da, I know you are the Sandman. But," he paused to lift a massive hand, using it to push Sandman back down from his sudden height, so that they were at eye-level again, "I am also dee Santa Claus. I can function for few days with no sleep."

Huffily, Sandman created a floating six above his head.

North appeared unperturbed. "All right, then, six days. And as you are easily seeing, I am in no need of—,"

The Guardian of Wonder was incapable of finishing his sentence as Sandman had chosen that exact instant to release a cloud of his dreamsand in the enormous man's face. Sandman departed from the North Pole moments later, feeling rather pleased with himself, and left a snoring North in a deep sleep atop a crate of recently-made teddy bears.

-Toothiana-

The first time Tooth saw a nightmare was also her last night collecting teeth herself.

She had breezed through her collections that evening, more than halfway done and it was barely one in the morning. Orléans was one of her last stops before she flew to Germany, and she had been zipping from house to house, bubbly and energetic as ever.

Toothiana had only lingered in the bedroom of a little girl for a few seconds more than usual, whose room she could still remember had been painted in soft pastels, tightly clutching a patchwork cat beneath her blankets. Her face was fair and pleasantly round, features placid as the Tooth Fairy placed a coin beneath her pillow and her dreams danced golden above her head.

She had only paused to observe the girl, a swelling warmth in her chest at the sight of the peacefully slumbering girl, when something abruptly changed.

The child's brows had knitted, worry trickling into her expression, and she thrashed beneath her blankets. The stuffed cat fell to the floor, and the dreamsand floating overhead seemed to convulse, collapsing in on itself and twisting violently.

They were the signs of a nightmares—Sandman had grudgingly explained to the other Guardians about a century or two ago how to detect them, always anxious around the topic. Tooth now understood why.

The golden apparition, one which showed the girl surrounded by a smiling mother and father, a cat worming its way into her lap, darkened and warped, and before Toothiana's eyes transformed into a chillingly ebony nightmare.

Tooth felt a sudden presence beside her and she had to stifle a scream behind her hands, nearly jumping out of her feathers. She looked down to see Sandman, his normally pleasant countenance troubled. He regarded her briefly with somber golden eyes before taking a step toward the bed, pausing to glance at the shadows beneath it.

His ever-present glow seemed to brighten tenfold, and Sandman actually glared down at the offending shadow, which Toothiana belatedly realized was as opaque black as the nightmare, and the lingering darkness under the bed gradually receded.

Without a word exchanged, Sandman continued forward, picking up the stuffed cat that had fallen from the girl's grasp. Tooth felt strangely out of place and helpless as Sandman set to write the Boogeyman's wrong, but she hovered in silence, watching her colleague work.

The stuffed cat was returned to the girl's arms, and Sandman reached up, above her head, toward the nightmare still making her writhe and whimper in bed. His fingertips needed only to touch it for a second before it slowly regained its gold. The child's struggles did not cease, however, the nightmare still in the process of changing back into a dream, and Sandman gathered her in small arms, cradling her with his eyes shut tightly in concentration, willing the dream to form again.

Finally, the girl stilled and her breathe returned to normal. Above her head was her dream, fully rejuvenated, and Sandman exhaled heavily, though he did not release the child just yet. He opened his eyes, the golden orbs for once showing the Guardian's true age, and he smiled mournfully.

For over four hundred years after that, Toothiana did not collect teeth herself. She knew that Sandman would not always be there to quell the nightmares of her children.

-Jack Frost-

The imp was high in the rafters above the globe as the service was held for the lost Guardian.

He watched in silence as candles were lit and placed on Sandman's plaque. All of the yetis and elves had surrounded the three Guardians, the former as silent, solemn giants. Jack half expected North to make a speech, and if that had happened the winter spirit would have turned up his nose and gone back to Burgess to mourn in peace. Who needed pompous, all-knowing Guardians anyway?

But North was silent. As were Tooth and Bunny. There was no need for a speech, obituary, or otherwise. Sandman could never be replaced, and in the little time Jack had known the ancient Guardian, he had come to trust him. Sandman had trusted him too—and now he was dead.

Jack hadn't thought the Guardians could die. Didn't know that they lost strength and their very existence when they were not believed in. it was frightening to think that if Jack were to accept his Guardian status, he would be at the mercy of the children who did not even consider him real. But Jack had to remember that Sandman had not been killed by disbelief—he had been murdered by fear.

And Jack didn't think the image of Sandman slowly converting into nothing more than a nightmare, golden eyes wide and full of so much unbefitting fear, would ever leave his memory.

But the winter spirit had yet to let one tear fall. He waited to see the Guardians' reactions as they gathered around the Sandman's seal.

The trio was silent among the mass of yetis and elves, the latter swinging their hats so that the bells created a solemn tune that seemed morosely fitting. Tooth's wings, still a blur behind her, had slowed somewhat in grief. She laid the final candle by their comrade's inscription before floating back to join North and Bunny, both of whom were looking opposite ways. Jack was not surprised to see unhidden tears in both Tooth and North's eyes.

The Tooth Fairy reached for North's meaty hand first, and the bearded man accepted her grasp with an infinitely gentle hold. Tooth then turned to Bunny, and Jack's heart leapt in his chest as he realized why the Easter Bunny had looked away.

Tooth's eyes were pleading, but Bunny only avoided her gaze for an instant longer, failing at keeping the tears from brimming. He was ashamed, too proud to admit how much Sandman had meant to all of them, but the tears were enough.

He hesitantly took Tooth's offered hand, the two toughest members of the Guardians held together solely by the grip of their smallest. Their heads lowered, tears falling and shoulders shaking, but their chain was strong and their hands remained entwined.

Jack had seen enough.

He fled to some far-off corner of the workshop before the Guardians had even noticed his presence.

-Sandman-

Sometimes they just had to make sure that he was still there.

It came in small, subtle ways but Sandman caught them easily. After all that had happened—dying and regenerating, feeling so very cold and alone in between—the Guardian appreciated the gestures.

From North, it would be the occasional clap on the shoulder or pack on the back, coupled with wide, smiling blue eyes that never seemed to want him out of their sight.

For Bunnymund it would be a nudge and playful wink, and the Easter Bunny would make a point of including Sandy in the conversations he was normally left out of.

Toothiana would hug him at random intervals, and her mini fairies would play with his hair. They worked together more often during the night.

All of them needed to make sure he was still there. That Sandman still alive.

All except Jack.

The imp would watch Sandman be coddled and cared for and touched with something in his silvery eyes akin to guilt and jealousy combined. It did not take long for the Guardian of Dreams to discover what was wrong.

Jack had gone centuries without touch, unable to feel the calm and comfort the presence and feel another living being brought. His hugs were awkward and he moved like a man on a tightrope—he didn't know where to go or what to do when the people he was around could actually touch him. Sandman sought to remedy that with some comfort of his own.

When Jack's attention wandered at a meeting Sandman would be the one to tug on his sleeve or prod at his side. If the imp felt like being mischievous sometimes Sandy would join him or pull him out of harm's way, or spar with him.

Eventually Jack became comfortable with touch, and the feel of another person's skin. Soon he was the one poking Sandman and the others in the back, freezing their drinks when they weren't looking, returning North's bear hugs every once in a while, and giving Bunny a noogie whenever he didn't expect it.

Jack never thanked the Sandman, in fact he usually felt like apologizing for all the trouble he had caused, but with every smile the ancient being sent his way, he knew that it was never needed.