The Fall Of The Guardians

Chapter 3

What happened shortly afterwards was a blur.

Jack slept. He slept for a long, long time, for what had to have been days. Sometimes he was awake long enough to catch glimpses of Pitch standing at the foot of his bed, with a cruel smile. This scared him and he often cried out in fear. Sometimes, he saw the Nightmares, circling his bed over and over, never taking their eyes off of him. 

Sometimes, he saw Azazel. 

For the most part, Jack was a wreck. He couldn't eat anything she brought him, because he just kept throwing it up, and everything was so damn sore all the time. His head was constantly hurting as well. 

It would get hot, then very cold, then too hot all over again. Jack tried to kick off his blankets but Azazel came back and tucked him in almost as if he were a child.

"No, 'm too hot," he had complained weakly, trying to push her hands away. 

"Shut up, you have a fever." Azazel didn't even need to try to overtake him. She pinned his wrists down, pulled the duvet up to his chin, and tucked it around his shaking body. "I'm not letting you go until you say you'll keep the blanket. Otherwise I'll tie you down."

It didn't matter really, Jack had passed out again at the words 'shut up.'

Flashes of pain, vomiting, headaches, hot, cold. 

Jack hadn't been this sick in a long time. His body was shaking constantly, sweat dripping from his brow. His breath wheezed and shook every time he inhaled and rattled in his chest with every exhale. Sometimes it was rough, so terrible that he could barely think.

Sometimes it was manageable to where he could almost sit up, but then another wave of sickness would drag him down again. 

"Food," a voice said. "C'mon, you gotta eat."

Jack pretended to be asleep. He didn't want food. He wanted to die. He wanted to fucking die so he could get out of this hell.

"C'mon, dude. It'll get cold and then you really  won't want it, believe me."

It wasn't Pitch, and it wasn't Azazel, either. 

"Seth Samael Asmodeus," said the voice, almost cheerfully. It belonged to a guy, probably about Jack's age, "But you can call me Sam. Everyone does. I'm the cool one, by the way. I break stuff."

Jack coughed, propping himself up on one elbow. His head swam and his vision was so blurry that he could barely see the outline of his fingers against the mattress. He attempted to turn his head and ended up falling back down. A pair of golden eyes stared back, clashing brightly with a mop of curly red hair. 

"You look like shit, my dude. For real." Seth said. He held a bowl containing some sort of soup in his hands. "Azazel said you've been puking. Sick, man; both literally and figuratively. But it means you really should eat something."

The world started to fade to black. 

There was another voice, this time angry and loud.

"Seth! What the hell are you doing in here? Pitch told you to stay out!"

"C'mon, Az, what dad doesn't know won't hurt him-"

"Get out!"

Then Jack fell unconscious.

***

The next time he opened his eyes, he was confused. Confused and very, very scared.

What the...? Where the hell am I? Where are the Guardians?

Jack sat bolt upright, eyes frantically scanning the room in blind panic before he remembered. The Guardians were dead. And he, rather then be turned into a Nightmare, had given into Pitch.