(Note: I have changed this chapter a little and added line breaks, as I realised that my blank spaces I made to do that job didn't come out properly, and that it would have been confusing. I will be doing this for the other chapters too.)

WARNING: the following chapters contains blood, psychological torment, violence and a pyromaniac. Do not read on if you are triggered by any of these.

"Good night Su-san!" Finland gave Sweden a radiant smile and retreated into his bedroom.

"Night." He said back, but was way too late. Finland probably hadn't heard him. He sighed and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, a process he followed religiously. As he brushed them vigorously, he reflected on the day that had been. It had actually been okay. Apart from a minor scuffle with Denmark, it had actually been pretty tranquil. Norway had been unusually compromising too. It was almost like the calm before the storm. He spat out the frothy toothpaste into the basin. Blood stained the usually white froth a light pink. That was strange. He brushed it off as he put away his blue and yellow toothbrush into the cup the Nordics all shared.

As he was about to open the door, he could hear breathing outside. Denmark from the sound of it. Sweden couldn't help smiling. He had fought with him so often he could even recognise the sound he made when breathing. Sweden quickly wiped the smile off his face, ready to blank the man outside if necessary. Denmark's idiotically smiling face peered out from the door crack as he opened the door slowly.

"Goodnight Sverige!" Denmark remarked cheerfully and without waiting for a response quickly locked himself in the bathroom. Sweden felt tempted to put a chair or something against the door, but somehow felt that was a bit too mean.

"Night." Too late again. He reminded himself to work on his timing and trudged back to his bedroom, not really in the mood for sleep. Nevertheless he flopped onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly after a long, drawn out sigh of contentment. What a lovely day.

Denmark emerged from the bathroom a whole new person. He always went to bed last because he didn't want the others to see him like this. His usually cheerful face was now adorned with a ragged frown. His shoulders stooped and the slight stubble on his face was suddenly much more noticeable. He was dreading the night. Night was hell for him.

He turned off all the lights in the house and briskly trotted back to his bedroom. It was the last sanctuary. The bright yellow light pooled into the now pitch black hallway. He hurried in and closed the door. After getting dressed in his pyjamas, even though they all lived practically in the middle of nowhere he made sure the curtains were fully closed, not even a crack was allowed to show. Next was the cupboard. He rammed the doors closed as quietly as he could and walked over to the wall socket, making sure the night-light was plugged in. He was about to get into bed when he stopped and walked back to the cupboard. He pushed the doors lightly. Closed. He had a sneaking suspicion that the curtains were slightly open and re-arranged those. Just in case. Oh no wait, did he close the door? He turned around to look at the door. Closed. But it can't have been fully closed, can it? He pushed it lightly. It was closed. He stopped himself just before jumping into bed. The night light was plugged in right? It would be a disaster if it wasn't. He just had to check. It was plugged in. Oh, but the cupboard door. He swore he could hear a creaking noise that could only have been the cupboard door. Closed.

This went on for fifteen minutes before he could bring himself to go to bed. By this time he was so tired by his worrying that he dozed off immediately. Denmark had OCD, and he had it bad. None of the Nordics knew, but that would very soon change.

"Wake up."

Sweden grunted and turned over.

"Berwald, wake up you idiot." This time he sat bolt upright, spooked at having his name spoken. It had been such a long time since he had been called by that name. He looked around. He was still in his room, but it was pitch-black. What did anybody want with him in the middle of the night?

"Finland?" He mumbled groggily, slightly pissed off that he had been woken at such an ungodly hour. He rubbed his eyes. That's when he saw him. The stranger in his room. He had to clamp his mouth shut with his hand to stop himself from crying out. His vision was a bit blurry and he was not used to the dark so he fumbled for his glasses on his bedside table. After around 10 seconds of frantic searching he found them and quickly pulled them on. Much better.

It was a man, that much was clear. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness he could pick out more and more details. He was average sized, pretty tall, but not as tall as he was. He seemed to be wearing a coat very similar to the one he usually wore, except it was red. Everything was either red or black on him. His hair was a pale blonde and cropped similarly to his own. Behind his glasses a pair of gleaming red eyes seemed to pierce into Sweden's very soul. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight and shuffled back against the wall. He reckoned he could easily take this bastard in a fight, but he still gave Berwald the creeps. The worst thing was that he was looked so damn familiar…

Suddenly something within Sweden clicked and he realised why he recognised him. It was a mirror image of himself! But something seemed off. The man was smiling broadly, waiting for him to realise, but it was no ordinary smile. Something purely evil lurked behind it.

Finally Sweden worked up the courage to speak up.

"Who- who are you?"

The stranger tilted his head to one side. "I'm you."

"Sure you are." Sweden remarked sarcastically and raised his eyebrows.

"No, really. Did you notice the similarities?" The man's head was straight now, and he gave him a radiant smile that eerily reminded him of the one Finland had given him before he had gone to bed. He shuddered again. This was slowly getting more and more uncomfortable. "I am your other half. We belong together." The stranger continued.

He let that sink in for a while. Sweden didn't know what to say. The weirdest thing was that if his body was working properly he would have jumped out of bed and knocked the man out immediately, but now he was rooted to the spot. He wanted to know more, especially about why the hell this 'other half' was here.

"Don't you just hate Denmark?" His other half suddenly asked, sounding completely serious.

Well that was random. "Yeah, I guess…" He responded vaguely.

"Do you ever want to end all your petty little battles for good? Don't you want to emerge as the clear victor?"

"Kind o-"

"Don't you ever want…" The stranger cut him off. "Revenge?" He said, placing special emphasis on the word, almost spitting it out as if it were a piece of a rotten apple he had just bitten off.

Sweden had to think for a moment.

"Yes."

This had to be a dream.

"Then I know just what you should do."

"What?" He leaned forward like an eager child. He had a feeling this was going to be good. The man seemed to glow in the darkness with an ominous red light, illuminating all the furniture in a way that contorted everything into hideous monsters.

"Go into his room now while he is sleeping. Don't wake him up. Open his cupboard doors, open the curtains wide and yank the plug for his nightlight out of its socket. Oh, and when you go, leave the door open."

"And why should I do that exactly? Is anything supposed to happen?"

The mysterious man chuckled. "That's for you to find out."

Sweden blinked, and the man was gone. The room was empty. Was that supposed to be a dream? He didn't feel asleep. He sat in his bed for a while, thinking. Finally he got up and crept down the hallway to Denmark's room. He was so intrigued that there was no way he could not try it. Besides, it couldn't do any real harm, right?

He did as the stranger said and crept back to his room. Content, he fell back into a deep sleep.

Denmark slowly opened his eyes and stared at the glowing digital alarm clock next to him. One thirty. He always woke up at the same time every night. As his eyes slowly adjusted he realised that something felt off. He looked beyond the clock. The door was open.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

His arm flailed over to the night light and with a practiced movement he flicked the switch. Nothing happened.

Shiiiiit. Shitshitshit. Shit.

He stared into the darkness beyond the door. Anything could pop out there at any moment and do something. His imagination went wild, racing ahead desperately. He imagined monstrous beings of all shapes and sized for god knows how long. Then a feeling struck him. Something else wasn't right. He slowly turned around to face the cupboard and the curtains.

Shit.

They were open, wide open.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

He huddled up into a ball, unable to take his eyes off any of the places, eyes darting nervously all over the room to check for any movement at all. In his mind he was being watched from the window, open to attack from the door and the monsters in the cupboard had escaped.

He was, in short, terrified. He wondered how long they had been like this. It felt like something had been done to him. He had no idea if he had been raped in his sleep or not, or whether he would wake up the next morning with fresh, unexplained scars. No, one thing was clear. He could not fall back asleep. He had to be on his guard against those things. Oh if only his night-light worked! He was too scared to reach for the main light-switch in case his arm was attacked by something, and even if he had the courage to he simply wouldn't be able. He was literally petrified in fear. He couldn't move, surrounded by the darkness and his imagination.

Oh god, was that a creaking noise he just heard? Shitshitshit. He looked towards the door. Nothing there, as far as he could see anyway. He checked the cupboard and the windows. Nothing. Maybe. They could be hiding behind the wide open doors. Another slight creaking noise was heard. He checked everything. Still nothing. He peered out the window, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He swore he could see a face out there, staring straight at him. He tried to tell himself that it was only the tree in their back-yard, but he couldn't even believe himself. He abruptly pulled the covers over his face, but was unable to keep it there for more than a few seconds so that he could check the door again. They would take the opportunity to sneak up on him if he looked away. They lived in an old house, so it made a lot of noise. But Denmark abandoned all reason at night. He briefly considered making a run for it and sleeping with Norway, or even just the closest person, but the thought of being ambushed along the way made him curl up even tighter to wait for the sun to rise.

And so he stayed for the whole night. The hours dragged along like snails, the night seemed to never end. He had been crying. He wanted for it all to end, or at least for him to die. His imagination got wilder as the night progressed and soon he realised he would never just nod off.

Finally dawn came. The sun came up through the window, illuminating the tree and casting rays of warm sunlight onto his sleep-deprived face. He looked up. It was over. Finally he broke. He let out a pathetic choking sound as he flopped down on his belly. Never again. Ever. The relief was immense. He wanted to spring up and hug the first person he met. Eventually he got up and tentatively poked his head around the cupboard doors. Nothing there. As usual then. Denmark got dressed and went into the kitchen. Sweden was sitting there, eating a piece of toast and drinking black coffee. Sweden was always up first in the mornings.

"Morning." He said, sounding completely disinterested. He had completely forgotten what had happened last night, or at least shrugged it off as a dream.

Human speech. Denmark thought he had heard creepy whispers all around him that night, but this was the first fully human voice he had heard in what felt like years.

"Human." His voice was hoarse as hell. He frowned at the sound of it. God, he sounded like shit.

He ran up to Sweden and gave him a massive bear hug, tears streaming down his face. Sweden was frozen in shock, his toast halfway to his mouth. What the hell? Denmark never hugged him.

"Don't ever fucking leave me alone with them again." He gulped, hugging him tighter.

Sweden was about to tell him to get off in not exactly a very polite way, but then realised that this guy was serious. He basked in the warmth of the hug and said nothing.

Eventually Denmark let go of him, revealing his face. He looked as if he had gone insane. He had bags under his eyes and they were red rimmed from crying the whole night. His eyes were still not used to being able to focus on one thing for more than a few seconds, leaving his eyes darting to the sides every so often. His hair was a complete mess and he generally seemed to have aged ten years.

For some reason he could not understand, this made Sweden really happy. He had looked like that himself on a few occasions. It served the bastard right.

Suddenly it all came back to him. So was that what that crazy stranger had meant? He had no idea what had happened, but it was obviously something. He followed Denmark with his eyes as he pulled up a seat and slumped down in it, leaning his head against the table.

"You look like shit. What happened?" He asked, trying not to sound curious.

Denmark lifted his head. "Oh nothing. Just a bad night's sleep." It crashed back down to the table with a thud.

"Oh poor you." Sweden remarked sarcastically. "But look on the bright side. You look like you're back to reality at least." He had no idea where those words had come from. It definitely wasn't something he'd usually say.

"No really. I'm fine." He mumbled groggily. He could have fallen asleep right there if he hadn't thought about the previous incident. He still had no idea how long those things were out of place, and what the hell they had done to him. There was no question about it, something definitely had happened. This made him feel really depressed, yet he still couldn't fall asleep. Not until he had figured it out. Then Denmark got an idea, maybe pain could get rid of those thoughts, or even better, knock him out. He started to repeatedly bash his head against the table. The pain felt good, it took his mind off the matter.

Sweden started chuckling. "You're funny today. You look suicidal." Suddenly he burst out laughing. "Honestly, the state you're in right now. It's so fucking ironic, you know?"

Denmark stopped bashing his head against the table and gave Sweden a haunted look. "Are you taking pleasure in this?"

Sweden took a calm sip of coffee and stared right back at him. It was strange; Denmark could swear that he saw his eyes flash red for a moment. But he was probably just hallucinating from any remnants of his horrid imagination.

"And what if I am?" Sweden smiled sweetly, but he could clearly see the hidden cruelty behind it. Denmark couldn't stand it; he lowered his gaze and rested his head against the table once more.

"I need a fag." He muttered and walked off to search for a packet of cigarettes, the best excuse he could muster to leave. He had a sudden craving he could not understand. He never bought cigarettes, but was sure he'd seen Finland buy a pack a while ago.

Sweden calmly finished up his coffee. He felt different. He was acting differently than usual. It was like it wasn't him speaking. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

Norway and Iceland entered at that moment.

"Morning Sweden." They said in perfect unison.

"Morning guys!" He responded brightly, smiling at them automatically without even thinking.

They both stared at him, stunned.

Norway took a while to formulate his words, occasionally starting to say something, but then stopping mid-sentence. Finally he seemed to come to something that made sense. "Swe, are you going through a mid-life crisis or something?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." He whispered mysteriously and winked at them. Okay, this was getting weird. By this point he would have ignored them.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Iceland sounded worried.

"I dunno. I just feel different."

The two brothers looked at each other with a mortified look, then at Sweden.

"Yep, definitely mid-life crisis." Norway remarked.

"If it makes you feel any better, Denmark seems to be going through one too."

"WHAT?" They both cried.

"I don't know what's happening, but it's definitely not April fool's day." Norway muttered.

"Where is he now?" Iceland looked around frantically.

"He went to look for some cigarettes." Sweden rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "He looked like absolute crap. Sounds like something happened last night. You should speak to him." He continued making meaningful gestures at Norway.

"Thanks Swe." Norway gave him an odd look. "Are you sure you're okay?" He sounded genuinely worried for once.

"Fine, fine." Sweden said dismissively, grinning widely.

"That still gives me the creeps." Norway muttered. "Little bro, go wake Finny. He needs to see this."

"Don't call me that you asshole." Iceland hissed through gritted teeth, but still obediently went off towards the rooms. Norway went the other way to look for Denmark.

When Iceland came to Finland's room he noticed that he was already up. He was sitting on the bed petting his little dog.

"Morning Ice-kun."

"Good morning Fin."

They both smiled at each other. They could relate to each other the most out of all the other Nordics.

"You need to get to the kitchen." Iceland wasted no time with small talk.

"Why?"

"You have to see this."

"What? What's happening? "He stood up abruptly, leaving the dog half-asleep on the bed.

"It's-" Iceland scratched his head and gave Finland an apologetic look. "It's Sverige."

"What happened?" His eyes were wide with worry.

Iceland realised he might have given the wrong impression and tried to redeem himself. "Oh no, he's fine. Just… Different." He chuckled nervously.

"Take me to him." His lips were pressed together decisively. Iceland nodded and led the way to the kitchen table. By this time Sweden had managed to make himself another cup of coffee.

"Good morning my beautiful wife!" He grinned at him and took a large sip of coffee.

Finland stood almost rooted to the spot in shock. Sweden never casually smiled at him right off the bat.

"See what I mean?" Iceland gestured at the cheerful looking Sweden, who was partially ignoring them as he read the paper.

"Su-san?" Finland took a tentative step forward.

"Yes?" He looked up from his paper, still grinning.

That was when Norway entered supporting Denmark who was staggering dangerously, almost as if drunk. In his mouth was a cigarette, leaving smoke trailing upwards like a grey snake. His forehead was bright red from where he had been smacking it repeatedly against the wall in the lounge, and could only be stopped by Norway practically pulling him away from it.

"I see what you mean now." Norway sighed grimly, directing the comment at Sweden, who put down the paper and started sniggering.

"What's so funny?" Norway said indignantly.

The laughing only escalated until it was a full on guffaw. The others stared horrified at the man, unable to say anything. This was not the Sweden they knew.

Finally he stopped and took a deep breath, shaking his head at Denmark, a sadistic grin on his face.

"Oh Danmark. Have you been trying to commit suicide? Self-harm? Either way you've gone crazy!" He was giggling uncontrollably. "This is just too funny man. You're killing me!" He started laughing again, clutching exaggeratedly at his side.

"You bastard! Can't you see he's unstable!?" Norway shouted, advancing towards him ominously. But Denmark put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me handle this." He wheezed, the cigarette falling from his mouth onto the wooden floorboards below. Norway quickly stamped it out and let go of him. Denmark staggered slowly over to the laughing Sweden. When he finally reached him he put a shaky hand on his shoulder. He suddenly stopped laughing and stared at the crazy man in front of him.

"Was it you?" He croaked. "Was it you who opened the curtains? Was it you who opened the doors and unplugged the light?"

"Me?" Sweden put a hand on his chest. "I would never do such a thing." He replied with sarcasm dripping off his voice.

He didn't know which was worse, thinking that they had done all that, or that one of his best friends had purposefully done it to hurt him. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna…" His tired face filled with rage, a frightening sight for any normal person. "I'll kill you!"

"Ooh, I'm so scared!" He said with mock fright and stared back at him, his grin slowly twisting into something wholly malicious. His eyes flashed red, but this time they stayed that colour. That was the final straw. Denmark lunged at him, but Sweden neatly dodged it.

"You'll never win against me in that state." He chuckled.

The sound of a slap echoed throughout the silent room.

Sweden blinked. His cheek was burning. His eye colour briefly returned to its normal blue. What was he doing? 'This is going too far, even for me.' He thought briefly. But then revenge flashed through his head. No, Denmark deserved this. This was revenge for all those times. He was sure the others would agree. His eyes went back to red.

"Is that the best you can do?" He stood up to face Denmark, who lunged at him again. Sweden ducked and swiftly pulled a knife out of his coat and slashed upwards. Denmark's battle instincts briefly returned and he took a step back, but he was too late. The knife caught him on the cheek and left a deep scratch running from the corner of his mouth to right below the eye. Sweden quickly pocketed the knife.

It took a few seconds before Denmark could feel the pain. But when it finally came it hurt more than anything. Usually a scratch like this was nothing, he had suffered worse. But right now he was feeling really sensitive. He blinked a few times. This had gone too far. They never fought in the house or the floor might get bloodstains on it. Right now the scratch was pulsing blood, dripping the red liquid all over his clothes and the floor. He put a hand to his cheek to stop the blood flow, but it just seeped through his fingers. He was too stunned to say anything. He really hadn't expected this. Finally his exhaustion took the better of him and soon felt himself starting to lose consciousness, happy that he could finally get some sleep. Denmark slowly tilted backwards, until he toppled like a bowling pin flat on the floor. He was vaguely aware of the others' footsteps running over to him.

The last thing he saw before fainting was Sweden's smiling face staring right at him, the blood-red eyes piercing into his very soul as he waved him goodbye with a slight movement of the hand.

"Den? Den!?" Norway was crouching at his side, squeezing his hand in a panicked fashion. "Den, wake up! What happened? Den?" The other two nations kind of stood around him, not really sure what to do.

"Little bro, fetch some plasters and a cloth. Finny you stay with me. We need to find out what the fuck happened to Sweden."

Iceland ran off, this time too confused and upset to protest at being called little bro. Finland took a step back from Sweden.

"I don't know you." He shook his head, trying not to look flustered.

"Of course you know me. I'm Sweden!" He spread his arms out dramatically.

"You're not the Sweden I know." He took another step back. Sweden took two steps forward, making him gulp.

At this point Norway had had enough. He jumped in front of Sweden and gave him an angry look.

"What the hell is your problem Sverige?"

"Nothing at all."

"You know we don't fight with sharp weapons inside."

"Does it look like I care?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"What's going on with you? You used to have pride, never kicking a man who's already down. Yet you just did. What the hell Sverige?!" Norway's usually passive voice was steadily getting angrier.

"I think you're being a little hypocritical here. Hey, Nor. Please don't tell me you've never wanted to do that to him before."

Norway stopped. "Well, yea-"

"Exactly!" Sweden cut him off.

"But I've never psychologically tortured him at least! God Sverige, have some pride."

"He told you about that? How do you know that I did it? What if it really was the monsters under the bed?"

"I doubt it."

"You know, I bet you the reason you're getting so annoyed over this is because you did it! You're just trying to cover it up by pretending to be angry." He crossed his arms and smirked.

"I would never do that to my Denmark!" Norway shouted indignantly.

"Getting possessive are we? That just goes to show what you think of him. Denmark isn't your toy! Goodness, I can't believe you'd do that to him. He's a nervous wreck!"

"You literally just admitted to doing it." Norway wasn't sounding too sure.

"I admitted to kicking him while he was down. Not anything else."

"You… you provoked him. He was obviously upset at you."

"Serves the bastard right. He needed to be taken down a peg."

Iceland came running back, holding a box of plasters and a cloth.

"I got them Nor!

Norway turned to face him for a second. "Good, plaster up the wound and wipe up any stains on the floor."

"Why do I have to? I just got them." He whined.

"Because we're having a situation here and I need to calm this big son of a bitch down." He roared, gesturing over to Sweden who was watching this with an amused look on his face. Iceland looked at him. Sweden mouthed "you're next" at him, making Iceland thankfully turn away to do what his brother had asked him.

"Anyway, that wasn't the point. You changed, and suddenly at that. Why?"

"What do you mean? I've always been like this." He put a hand to his chest and tilted his head to the side.

"No! The Sweden I know is shy, but he's kind and I love him!" Finland piped up at that point, raising his voice considerably. He was on the verge of crying. "You're not kind at all. You're just an impostor!" Finland pointed an accusing finger at him.

Finland started to sob, hiding his face in his hands. Something seemed to click within Sweden. His face softened, and soon he was crying too.

"Oh Finny, m'wife. Can you forgive me?" He sobbed. Finland looked up. He knew this person. He ran up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Never leave me again."

"Never." Sweden promised, and hugged him back.

Norway felt an immense relief. Denmark just needed some sleep, and Sweden seemed back to normal. And besides, it was a pretty cute scene. He sighed. He kind of wished he could have more of those kinds of moments with Denmark.

As he was looking at the two having their emotional moment he noticed something glimmering up Sweden's sleeve. The man opened his eyes and gave Norway a twisted smile. Suddenly he knew what that glimmering object was.

"Finland, get away from him!" He shouted and lunged for his arm.

Too late.

Sweden let the knife slip down his sleeve so he could grab it. With one swift movement he stabbed Finland in the back. Finland let go of Sweden's waist and fell down onto the floor with a dull thud. He only realised what had happened a few seconds later when he suddenly felt a searing pain in his back. It hurt more than anything else he had experienced. Sure, he had been beaten up by Russia a few times, but it hurt so much more when that stab came from somebody he had trusted.

"Su-san…" He wheezed. He was acutely aware of Norway at his side. He was saying something, but he couldn't focus on the words from all the pain. The knife clattered to the floor right in front of his eyes, slick with his own blood and Denmark's. Tears dropped down onto the floor, mingling grotesquely with the slowly increasing pool of blood that surrounded him. He let out a final groan as he lost consciousness.

"Finny! Finny wake up. Don't leave me alone with this bastard. Hang on; we'll patch you up in no time, right Iceland?" His voice was panicked. If Sweden would so readily stab his wife in the back, then who knows what he'd do to him? Finland had been his last hope to get the real Sweden back. And that last hope would now be unconscious for at least a day. Iceland was standing a few steps away, looking mortified at the now completely limp body of his best friend. His eyes were wide and his breathing was fast and heavy.

"Iceland, carry him to his room and bandage him up, or the blood loss might keep him unconscious for a few more days. I'll keep this maniac away from you, just look after them both." Norway ordered, struggling to keep calm.

Iceland merely nodded, and with a wary eye on the now insanely giggling man hurriedly went to scoop up Finland, carrying him bridal style to his room. He didn't care that his clothes were being soaked through with the blood pulsing from the wound, only that Finland was in a bad state and he needed to hurry.

Norway turned back to Sweden.

"You monster."