PickleToast: Hey all! This is my first real fanfiction that my friend and I put together! Hope you all like it and enjoy!

Disclaimer: We do NOT own anything in this fanfiction, except our OC whom you will later become acquainted with. But don't worry, he's follows the Hetalia universe nicely we think.

The dream always starts out the same way:

I'm sitting on my knees, staring into the barrel of a bayonet pointed at my head. I can vaguely make out the sounds of battle around me: a gunshot here, the answering cry of pain somewhere over there. But it's all a distorted haze worn unrecognizable by time's influence. Only the gun and its master remain crystal clear to me.

His blue uniform is torn and bloodied. Once golden blonde hair was dyed black by blood and dirt. Sky blue eyes, usually filled with happiness and laughter, stared down at me with sadness and a hint of fear. There was no trace of hatred in his gaze, only uncertainty. He didn't want to kill me; it showed in the trembling of his gun.

Too exhausted to do much else, I only stared up at him in confusion. Had we not been trying to tear each other apart not five minutes ago? Why the sudden hesitation?

"Union, why don't you finish me?" I finally asked. "This is what you've been waiting for since the start of the war. You could end it all now."

"Confederacy…" Union whimpered. "It can't end this way."

"Sure it can. You've won. The United States of America continues to be just that: united. As a nation created only because the south didn't want to be told what to do, shouldn't I just fade away with that wish? My very existence was a mistake, after all." I explained, emotionlessly.

"That's not true! How could you even think that?" Union cried, horrified. "You have as much right to live as anyone else!"

"What about the other nations?" I questioned.

"What about them?"

"I opposed your authority. And I lost the war that decided whether I became my own country or not. By all rights, you should be claiming my land and destroying any and all traces of my existence. How will you earn the respect and the support of the other nations if you don't-?"

"I don't care." He quickly interrupted.

"Wha-?" I gaped.

"I don't care what they think. As far as I'm concerned; you're my brother now. And you have as much right to life as anyone else!" He smiled at me confidently, daring me to question him. But I couldn't, I was too stunned to do anything.

And it always ends the same way too: his smile is the last thing I see as I return to consciousness. Disoriented and feeling oddly empty inside, I can only stare at my bedroom's ceiling in contemplation. That particular incident is one of the tamest memories I have that I can remember. But, with that memory comes all the others. And those memories could mean only one thing: another anniversary of the Civil War is upon us.

Every nation has a war that gives them nightmares and they'd prefer to forget. The Civil War is mine. It isn't so much the fact that I lost the war that makes me hate it. But rather, it's the feeling of self-loathing that always accompanies that particular day. After everything I did Union-no, Alfred- still offered me his hand, and opened the way for me to live my own life. I'll never forget his kindness.

Ugh, I'm getting all mushy and sentimental! If Alfred had heard me spout that crap he'd have a heart attack from the shock! I don't spout such nonsense; it's just another reason to hate that day: I get all sentimental and depressing. Even for me!

I need to do something to get my mind away from this topic. Let's see, what time is it? Maybe it's early enough to go somewhere?

Rolling onto my side, I look to the illuminated numbers of my digital sitting on the nightstand. The numbers aren't promising: 11:27pm. Crap, only thirty three minutes until the bewitching hour! Damn it, sometimes living in a house that's a magnet for the dead can be a pain in the ass! Looks like I'm not going back to bed anytime soon.

Maybe I could watch some TV? The chances of there being anything good on isn't promising, but I need a brain numbing activity. I could always watch a movie. Alfred had left some of those violent cartoons he had borrowed from that Kiku friend of his the last time he was here. That might be something interesting to wat-.

Why do I smell alcohol?

Sniffing the air experimentally, I confirmed that my house had the distinct smell of something alcoholic. This is strange, since I don't normally have alcohol of any kind in my house. Well, there was that one time I had stocked up on alcohol in an effort to build Alfred's and my tolerance for the stuff. Long story short: it wasn't pretty. But that doesn't explain why I'm smelling it now. So why…

Crash

I was out of the bed and beside the bedroom door before my brain processed what had happened. Gotta love reflexes sometimes!

Wait, that's beside the point! Someone's inside my house!

Growling angrily, I quietly opened my bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. Without warning there was another crash, this time I could determine that it came from downstairs. Quietly making my way through the maze of hallways that I knew by heart, I easily reached the staircase that led down into the living room. From the sounds of creaking floorboards and loud breathing, not to mention the strengthened stench of alcohol, it was easy to conclude that the intruder was in the living room.

Without realizing it, my shotgun had materialized in my hands. Honestly, I have no idea where it comes from, but I assume it comes from the same place that Alfred gets all of his hamburgers from. He doesn't know why he can "summon" burgers from thin air, and I don't know either. So it's no use to question why a shotgun appears in my hands whenever I feel threatened or feel in the mood to fill someone full of holes. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, I always say.

When I got my first glimpse of the intruder I couldn't believe my eyes. This guy was monstrously huge; his head nearly touched the ceiling! He had to of been no less than seven feet tall. That made Alfred look average, and he's taller than me by a small margin!

My eyes were playing trick on me, that's all. The room was pitch black and I was basing things off the guys silhouette. Yea, that's it. I just need to turn on the lights. The light switch is beside me even.

Feeling more confident I flipped the switch and the room burst into light. Momentarily blinded, I had to blink rapidly to clear my vision. Unfortunately, I still didn't like what I saw: the guy was still a towering giant, with a heavy tan coat (strange this close to the equator), an off pink scarf, snow boots, and thick gloves. The creepiest feature by far was the innocent looking smile that adjourned his face, but somehow that childlike smile only made him all the more terrifying.

Get a grip! The hunter does not become the prey!

Ker-Chink

Cocking my gun I pointed the barrel at the intruder's head, "Who tha hell are you, and what do yah think yer doin in mah house?" I snarled threateningly. My accent becoming more pronounced in my anger.

Not intimidated in the least, the intruder's smile only got wider, "Kolkolkolkol, now Amerika. Do not tell me that you have already forgotten our little discussion earlier at the last world meeting. You said something rather insulting about me, and I believe that it would only be fair for me to get you back, da?" Stepping towards me menacingly, he pulled a drain pipe from out of thin air and brandished it at me. "I do not see why you are pointing that gun at me anyway. It's not like you have the courage to-."

BANG

I didn't give his pompous ass enough time to finish that sentence. No one and I mean no one, breaks into my house and threatens my brother! I may not know the whole story behind this, but then again I didn't really need to know. He threatened to brain me! That's proof enough that his intentions were to cause harm. And to my brother no less! Not on my watch buddy!

He's just lucky that my shotgun is loaded with blanks. With my short temper and deadly aim, it's only fair that I only use nonlethal ammo. Gotta give my prey fighting chance right? After all, I did kinda hit the guy between the eyes with that shot… Heh, poor fool didn't stand a chance.

"Kolkolkol, well well. I did not think-."

CRACK

Stay down already! Geez, do I have to take a hammer to this guy's head to keep him down? I already shot him at pointblank range, and now I've smacked him upside the head with the same shotgun I used to shoot him. Can this situation get any more hectic?

Ding-Dong-Ding~

(!)

I had to ask. The bewitching hour as just been struck, and now my house is vibrating with all the spirits running rampant in its halls.

Wait, that means that it's morning… And morning means that today is the anniversary of the Civil War. And my birthday…

Glancing down at the unconscious lump of the giant intruder, then looking up at the spirits swirling around my ceiling in an agitated frenzy, and finally I drew my attention to the still chiming grandfather clock.

"Ugh, I hate Mondays…"