NO USUK. Sorry guys, I know there are a lot of you USUK shippers out there (I am one myself) but the parring just doesn't work for this story. No worries, there will be other slash parings! I hope you understand.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the Spook's Apprentice. I am using the characters from Hetalia and ideas from The Spook's Apprentice because this is fanfiction and I can.

BTW, this is a rocky start because I couldn't quite figure out how to write the first few chapters, but please give it a chance!

If someone asked me to pinpoint when I first realized I could see and hear things other people can't, I wouldn't be able to tell you. It might've been in the school house when I saw a cat run across the room and through a wall that no one else happened to see. It might have been the time when I saw a man weeping out in the fields of my families' farm whom my father took no notice to. I don't know when it was; I just remember it being. My Ma was the only other person that I knew of who could see and hear everything I could.

When I complained about the screaming keeping me up at night, she would stop it for me. (I never knew how she shut them up exactly, just that I was incredibly grateful she did).

Whenever I complained about there being constant knocking on my window, she would tell me never to open it no matter how temping the urge to open the window became. (Which really freaked me out).

Nothing had ever seemed odd to me; it was just my daily life. I knew my Pa and older siblings always thought me strange, but my mother always told me never to pay any mind to them, so I didn't. I learned to do my chores and go to school while doing my absolute best to ignore all the bizarre happenings around me.

This system of mine worked out pretty well until I was about nine years old; that's when I learned about ghosts.

I was walking back inside the school house after our free time outside, when I happened to overhear an older boy, John, talking to a girl my age. Her name was Tori Laurinaitis. Her family had recently immigrated to the Americas from Lithuania and I found myself to be absolutely smitten with her. She was extremely cute, with soft, wavy brown hair she wore in a cute pony tail, and big, bright blue eyes. Her sweet, innocent smile made my heart skip a few beats, while her accent always sounded like soothing music to me. Of course, I didn't like her talking to other boys without myself (even though I was simply a friend), so I walked over to the two and proceeded to join the conversation. When John mentioned the word, "ghost", I was caught off guard and asked him what that was.

With raised eyebrows John proclaimed, "You don't know what a ghost is, kid? A ghost is a spirit of the dead whose sole purpose is revenge on the living for makin' their live so stinkin' hard." He looked around us with suspicious, squinted eyes, as if to make sure no one was listening on our conversation. He leaned down towards me and said, "If you can see 'em, that means that they're out to get you."

Tori narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and told John there was no such thing as ghosts, and that he should be ashamed for trying to trick us. On the outside I agreed with her, but on the inside I was absolutely terrified. I realized that ghosts did, in fact, exist, and that I saw them every day of my life. Ghosts were the one's moaning all night long. Ghosts were the one's who knocked on my window, trying to make me open it for them. Ghosts were the one's sitting out in the corn fields, crying. Ghosts were the one's trying to kill me.

From that day forward, I lived my life in utter terror, as pathetic as that sounds. I knew John was only trying to scare me at the time, but I couldn't help but notice everything he said make startling sense. From that fear, a mild obsession grew.

I began researching ways to ward off ghosts. I would make a habit of sprinkling salt around the farm, around the school house, and anywhere else I went frequently. I began spending the free time I had to casting "spells" that would ward off spirits of any kind. (They didn't work very well; I still heard the knocking at my window and the distant screaming and moaning).

Of course I still had my friends (I wasn't that paranoid) but I never went to any social gatherings in fear of seeing the beings I feared most in a place that I had not yet attempted to ghost-proof yet. As a result, I became more reserved.

Time passed, people died, people were born, and before I knew it, it was time that I had to get an apprenticeship. Being the youngest of four, all my other siblings had already left for their apprenticeships beside my eldest brother, Holden, who would inherit the farm. Of course, going away from home instilled fear inside me; I didn't know if the place would be infested with ghosts or not. If my master's house was infested with ghosts, I wouldn't have my Ma to scare them away for me. (I know that sounds stupid, but you'd go running if you saw Ma get angry as well).

When the dreaded topic finally came up, Ma told us that she already arranged an apprenticeship for me.

"Isn't that supposed to be my choice to make, Ma?" I asked. And it was my choice to make. I didn't want to be stuck with a lousy boss that I absolutely despised just because I was afraid to speak up to my mother. That was ridiculous!

"It is," she replied, "but I know you'll just love this one."

"Well, what is it?" asked Pa. That caught me by surprise; I would think that if Ma already decided on my apprenticeship, she would have discussed it with Pa.

"Alfred here is going to start working for Mr. Kirkland."

My heart literally stopped beating. "W-what?" I squeaked.

"I said that you will start an apprenticeship for Arthur Kirkland. Next week, to be precise."

No. No no no no no no no. She could not do that to me. I would never ever become a spook's apprentice. Spooks are involved in all sorts of wacky things; wacky supernatural things. Ghosts happen to belong to the supernatural category, so no way in hell was I going near Kirkland or his funky business.

"You want to apprentice him to a spook?" Holden asked in dismay. "What evil power has possessed you to do such a thing like that?"

"Witch craft," mumbled Pa, "it's going around these days."

Pa was only joking, but his comment still got me thinking; Ma always was able to stop the ghosts. Was she some sort of witch? In that case was I some sort of witch, because I was able to see the spirits of the beyond?!

Holden, Pa, and I shared a paranoid look. Ma simply rolled her eyes as the three of us."Crimes of 'witch craft' are nothing more than a load of blether. They're all about jealous woman making up some sodding stories about other women for whatever reason. I don't wish to partake in that ridiculous affair."

"Sounds pretty suspicious," said Holden, "almost like it's something a witch would say, don't you think so, Al?"

"Indeed I do, Hol."

"I told you not to call me that."

"Why can't I? You call me Al."

"That's because 'Al' is a good nickname. 'Hol' is a stupid nickname."

"It's fitting then; a stupid nickname for a stupid person."

"At least I don't have to be an apprentice for Ol' Man England."

"Shut up, you stupid Hol! At lest I don't have to tug on cow ditties and roll in fresh baked pig pies for the rest of my life! Pulling Maribel's utters are the closest thing you'll ever get to experiencing what it's like to be with a woman."

"Like Tori's ever gonna want to be with a spook."

My face flushed a violent shade of red at the mention of my long time crush. "No one ever said I was going to be a spook. I don't want to be the next Ol' Man England."

"Both of you, knock it off!" snapped my mother. "And what is with calling Mr. Kirkland 'Ol' Man England'? That is very rude, and he isn't old." The single flaw about my Ma (okay, not "single" flaw) was the fact that she was from Great Britain herself. It horrified us all (especially since she had the same accent as Ol' Man England), but we somehow learned to put up with it.

"Well he certainly acts like one, always snapping at people in the high, snooty Brit talk. You'd think that he still wants England to sail over hear and reclaim America!"

"Alfred!" she scolded, "you better practice saying only good thinks about Mr. Kirkland, seeing as you'll be his apprentice soon."

I snapped. "I will not be a spook's apprentice! Especially not one to Ol' Man England! He's so crabby, rude, has a dumb way of talking, no offense Ma, and aside from just him, he's a spook! No one knows what spooks do, accept be creepy and stalk grave yards. Grave Yards, which are just crawling with ghosts and the super natural. I don't want to do that. You can't make me do that!"

All she did was raise one eyebrow at my little rant. "Mr. Kirkland is not a bad person, and being a spook is a respectable business. You will be his apprentice, and you will do what I tell you. You are not allowed to apply to any other apprenticeship until you at least try for two months. If it really is that awful than I will allow you to look for a new apprenticeship. Now go to your room. I don't want to hear another word on the matter."

It was unbelievable. Why Ol' Man England, of all people? Did she want to ruin my life? I'd never actually talked to him, but I have seen him sulking around, and have heard him yelling at others. His English accent was unmistakable; he was a true Brit, alright. The problem wasn't that he was a Brit exactly; it was more of him being an unpleasant person with and unpleasant job. I still didn't see why I had to be his apprentice. There were plenty of other boys my age who were weird and into that dark supernatural stuff—boys that weren't me.

I stayed up late at night, hiding under my blanket and listening to the rap tat tats on my window. After 14 years, you would think I was used to it, but I was still terrified of what that sound could be. There wasn't any moaning or screaming that night; Ma probably felt bad for making me have such an undesirable apprenticeship, and stopped them early. I sighed to myself, and tried to fall asleep.

I just wanted it to stop. It was constantly there, nailing a pounding "Tap tap tap" into my skull. With courage I didn't know I had, I leaped out of my bed and marched to the window. With shaking hands, I pulled the window open and was instantly knocked down by a gust of wind caused by the ghosts that were currently flying all around my room. Well, I thought, at least I now know what was causing the tapping sounds. I wish I left the window shut.

It was only then I remembered Ma's warning; "Don't ever open that window, you hear me?"

I tried to scream, but the ghosts came down and grabbed me, covering my mouth in the process. Their hands felt like cold shards of ice jabbing into my skin. The wind was swirling like there was a storm in my room. I was scared out of my mind and wondered why no one was hearing the commotion and running to my room.

The ghosts began to bring me towards the window. I closed my eyes anticipating my death, but they were pried open by the deathly cold hands' of the spirits. No! I silently screamed, I don't want to see my own death! Have mercy! I'm too young to die! But they weren't throwing me out the window. I looked at the one to my left as if to say, "What's the hold up?" He shrugged in response, and gestured for me to look out the window.

There, rising up from the ground and to my eye level (my room was on the second story of our house) was Ol' Man England in all his bushy-eyebrow glory. He fixed me with a patronization glare using his cat-like green eyes that just so happened to be the exact same shade as my own[1], climbed through the window, and fell to the floor with a subtle thud that reminded me of the way the morning dew fell to the ground. Both actions were done in such a silent and purposeful way.

"Bring him closer," Ol' Man England said to the spirits. The ghosts brought me right in front of his face; so close our noses were touching. I'm going to soil myself, I thought miserably. "Not that close, you bloody cretins." They moved me across the room. "Well, now that's quite too far away. You know what, just stay there, and I will come towards you until I stop in the amount of distance I want between the boy and myself." He walked towards me until there was about foot's distance between us. "That's much better." His British accent was absolutely revolting. The very sound of his voice made me feel more frightened than waking up and knowing it was Ma's time of the month.

Finally, the spirits uncovered my mouth allowing me to stutter out, "Wha-wha-wha-what d-do you want w-with me Ol'—I mean, Sir?"

"I need to tell you something very important, so you better listen well." He got so close to me I could feel his vile breath brush against my face with every exhale. "Alfred, I am your father."

I woke up with a start, and fell out of my bead. My heard was beating fast, and I could hear the blood roaring in my ears. I looked at the window to see it firmly shut and the sun rising behind the hills in the distance.

"It was just a dream," I whispered to myself. "Holden was right. I really should stop listening to those stupid 'Farm Wars' stories Matthew makes up."

There was a thud against the window. I must've jumped two feet in the air before I dove back under the blankets on my bed. It turned out to be just a bird who accidentally flew into the window. Sighing, I thought that I was in for a very long day.

[1] Yes, I know Alfred's eyes are actually blue and he has glasses. PLEASE don't scream at me, there are a reason his eyes are green that will later be explain. And besides, I didn't say his eyes are going to stay green. (;

Also, Alfred's dream sequence was all wacky because I figured Alfred's dreams would be wacky.

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