Happy Halloween (or Autumn or Spring) to you all! Right, so…I wanted to have another series of creepypastas posted earlier this month, similar to what I did last year, but as you can tell, it just wasn't meant to be. I got started on it very late and am nowhere near having the number of chapters ready to be posted. I will eventually put up the 31-day challenge, just not until a date in the far future. Until then, please enjoy this year's more light-hearted Halloween piece.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters; those belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Canada awoke with a start. What a horrible nightmare he just had. Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself say it was anything new. He'd been having the same recurring dream as of late: everybody would forget him. It was not as if they overlooked him (although that would be terrible too); rather everyone completely forgot he existed. And the thought unnerved him.

As he slipped out of bed, muttering to himself that it'd be ridiculous for the others to ignore him at the world meeting like they did in his dream, he couldn't help but feel something was…off. It wasn't something he could place he realized with a small frown. Something just felt different. Not wrong necessarily, just…

As he tried to shrug off the feeling, he went to his closet to find something to wear. It was his turn to host the world meeting, and it was just his luck it was on Halloween this year. He could be doing so many better things today than talking about politics and world relations such as preparing—

"Food." Canada looked back to see his pet bear poking his head into his room.

"Oh, you're hungry Kumatoji?" The little polar bear cocked his head and nodded. Sighing, Canada decided he'd first fix themselves some breakfast. Pancakes like always. He got to work on the delicious food, scanning the kitchen for plates and silverware as the batter baked. He could tell today was going to be a good day. And yet something wasn't quite the same as it should have been. What was it now…?

Oh! That's why. Kumatoro brought to the table the wrong kind of maple syrup. Canada chuckled to himself as he flipped the last pancake onto the plate. "Why'd you get the cherry maple syrup? Normal will do just fine." The bear paused in putting the bottle on the table. His eyes kept shifting between his master and the red topping. Finally, he shrugged and carried the container back to the fridge, pulling out the correct maple syrup this time.

"…wanted cherry." Canada heard his pet mumble. He brought the plate over to the table, setting aside half for Kumajiri, and was about to sit when there was loud banging at the front door. Sighing to himself again, he went to go answer it, already guessing who it was.

"Dude! Happy Halloween!" America barged in as always once the door swung open, and he clamped his brother in a vice-like hug. "What're you up to? Getting ready for the meeting? Are those pancakes I smell? They are, aren't they? Great, I'm starving!"

"Uh…" Canada couldn't get a word in edgewise as he numbly stared at his brother snatching a plate and fork off the drying rack and grabbing a few pancakes. He made himself right at home in literally a matter of seconds.

"Hey, where's the cherry maple syrup?" The Canadian blinked out of his stupor. He was never aware his brother liked that flavor. Actually, he was still amazed from learning ago he liked syrup at all. But that wasn't the most pressing matter right now.

"America…why did you come over to my house at 8:25 in the morning dressed up in your Halloween costume?" His brother looked a lot like that mass murderer from one of his movies, wearing a long and tattered orange, green-rimmed coat. The white hockey mask Canada remembered giving him was pulled up over his head so he could stuff his face with the fluffy bread.

"Did you not hear me go 'Happy Halloween' on the way in?" he countered with a chuckle. "Now where's the cherry syrup?"

"Oh, I didn't want any. You can grab it from the fridge if you want." The older brother got up to fetch the topping as the younger sat down and began to eat. He poured the golden syrup over his breakfast, secretly taking pleasure in the way the viscous liquid slowly flowed and cascaded down the sides. What a sight!

"Bro, are you okay?" Canada's eyes met America's worried ones.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you're eating maple syrup."

Silence.

"…Please tell me you're joking."

America clarified. "I mean, you're eating normal maple syrup. Don't you…" He paused, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. "…Uh, that is, didn't you say you got tired of eating that all the time?" Canada cocked an eyebrow. He couldn't recall ever saying such a thing. Sure he liked his food with other toppings, but good-old-fashioned maple syrup was and would always be his favorite.

"No, I don't think so." He continued eating, noting how America already let it go and went back to gorging himself.

They just finished their meal when there was another knock on the door. This time Canada had no idea who it was. He put his dish in the sink and went to answer the front door.

"When he asks, tell him I'm not here." America leapt from the table and ran into another room. Puzzled, Canada opened the door.

"Oh? Mexico?" The tan-skin, dark-haired man was glaring past him and inside his home. Like America, Mexico was oddly dressed for this time of day: all black clothing with boots, a silver belt, and a large black hat. "What are you doing here?"

"Huh? Oh, hola Canadá," the young man greeted distractedly, having seemingly just now noticed him, "Our brother wouldn't happen to be here, would he?"

"He would. Why don't you come in? Aren't you getting hot wearing that?" The other nodded.

"Why are you letting him in?" wailed a voice from inside. The man in black scowled as he stepped inside, mindful to take off his hat and let it hang down behind.

"Get out here, Estados Unidos! You deserve what's coming to you this time." Mexico ran into the other room, glancing around. "Tch! You know that's pathetic, right?" Canada walked in after, spying America holding up one of his more expensive vases like a bat.

"Yeah, well, my chainsaw's in the car and I have the right to defend myself." He held the vase firmer. "I'm not afraid to use this. Come at me, bro."

"America, put that down!" Canada ordered. "That's a very ex—hold on; did you say you have a chainsaw in your car? Why?"

"Quit joking around. You know why."

"No, seriously, I don't." His twin and his half-brother gave him curious looks.

"For tonight obviously." The American's voice was full of concern. "Are you okay, bro?"

Canada wasn't so sure anymore. Both his visitors were acting so strange, saying things that weren't right or weirder than normal in America's case. Was there something he wasn't getting?

"Oh no, hermanito; you're not changing the subject that easily." America flinched when Mexico took a threatening step forward. "The sooner you face your punishment, the sooner I leave you alone."

"No thanks."

"Okay, what's going on?" Canada's patience was quickly starting to wane. He didn't know why both of them were here and he still had to get ready for the meeting. And as host, that meant he had to leave here earlier than usual.

"Little brother had spent the night at my place, and this morning thought it would be a wonderful idea to start up his chainsaw and use it to wake me up," scowled the Mexican angrily. "All he did was terrify Hulla, and the poor mule ran around scattering the coal all across the hacienda. Took me an hour to catch her and settle her down, and I've still to gather the coal. I swear, Estados Unidos, I'm never letting you stay at my house again!" He crossed the distance between them and grabbed the American by the front of his shirt.

"Come on, it was just a joke! Can't you take one?"

The Canadian was getting more than fed up with the two. It seemed they were always at each other's throats, and this time was just a more stupid reason than usual. He wondered vaguely where this sudden rise in anger came from as he sighed irately. "Just apologize already. Promise to help clean up his yard after the meeting, okay?" The two brothers stared at the first.

"Um…don't you remember we're going out after the meeting?" voiced America. Mexico even nodded mutely next to him.

"For what? Trick-or-treating? A costume party? Look, I'm sure whatever it is can wait until you help Mexico out." The two continued to gawk at Canada like he had grown a second head. America recovered first.

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry about all this." And to Mexico's surprise, he turned and hugged him. Canada likewise turned, not catching America whispering to Mexico, and marched out to his room to get dressed. Why couldn't his brothers act more sensible this early in the morning?

Thank the heavens the car ride to the meeting place was quiet and peaceful. America and Mexico didn't bicker once, to Canada's amazement, though they did switch between staring out the windows in silence and giving Canada furtive glances. Canada was likewise puzzled by them: they were still dressed in their costumes. He had asked if there really was a costume party at the meeting, and the two acted like they didn't know about it. Canada then assumed they were just really into the Halloween spirit.

"So Mexico, what are you supposed to be?" The Mexican cringed when America let out a raucous laugh.

"HAHAHA! Didn't you know? He's a sombrero! They're supposed to be like midget people or something."

"Soy. Un. Sombrerón," he corrected angrily through gritted teeth, "And not all sombrerones are small. As you can see, I'm one of average height."

"But that's not exactly something you can change," Canada admitted. Mexico shrugged.

"I guess not. And it beats being an obtuse freak-of-nature who goes on a murder rampage every now and again."

"Hey! I'm not some freak-of-nature!" retorted America. He paused. "Or fat!"

"I rest my case," smirked Mexico. Canada rolled his eyes at the two. They reached the center with few more disputes and hurried upstairs. The two older brothers allowed Canada to set up inside the room while they waited outside. For ten minutes Canada got everything ready for the discussion. Just when he finished, a member walked in. Canada turned to greet them.

"Oh, you're here early, Engl…" He couldn't help himself from blinking. The Englishman was suited in an unusual vest and wearing a dazzling blue cloak with a matching tiny hat. What was he supposed to be– a magician?

England cocked a brow. "And what's up with you? Cat got your tongue?" The Canadian could barely make out the fake fangs as he spoke.

"You're a vampire!" he realized. Now it was England's turn to blink.

"Observant I see. And if we were to go by your logic, I guess that would make you—"

"Hey England! Ready for tonight?" America sprang from nowhere and draped an arm around the British man. The latter scowled.

"I suppose I am, though certainly I'm not spending the evening in your company. I have my own plans." The younger twin chose that moment to excuse himself from the two as he made for the podium. He had about five more minutes until the meeting officially began, so he might as well spend them going over his introduction.

"Good morning, everyone. I'd like to begin this month's meeting with a recap of the latest—"

"Ve~! Canada! How are you?" Canada successfully caught himself from gawking at the person greeting him.

"I'm well, Italy. But can you answer one thing for me?"

"Oh? What is it?" The Italian asked, puzzled. Canada could almost swear there was a tiny hint of fright in his voice.

"Why is everyone, including you, dressed up?" Unlike the others, Italy at least had the decency to put on a suit rather than some extravagant set of clothing. But why he was wearing ears on his head and nicely realistic wolf gloves were beyond him.

"Oh…I thought Germany, Japan, and I were going to be the only ones dressing up," Italy admitted, looking around the room. "Though I didn't want to. But Germany said something about formal gatherings still requiring the dress code, even if it is on Halloween. And you're dressed up too."

"Yeah, but not in a costume." Italy was about to say something when Mexico called for him from across the room.

"Huh? What's Mexico doing here?"

"Ask America. Apparently he invited him to the meeting because we're doing something afterwards."

"What are you doing?"

"As if I know." As he said this, though, the feeling of unease returned to him. Why didn't he know what they were doing tonight? For some reason, it felt like the answer was so obvious to him, but it was somewhere tightly sealed away in the back of his mind…

Deciding it was best to say hello to Mexico, Italy hurried over. Canada returned to his post. The nation was growing slowly frustrated with the others who were clearly either dressed for a party or doing their best to make him look like a fool. Well he wouldn't rise for the bait. That's why he didn't even bat an eye when Germany and Japan came in wearing similar costumes as Italy's.

"Are you alright, mon cher?" The Canadian groaned at France.

"No, I don't think I am. Everyone forgot to tell me we were supposed to be in costume for today's meeting; something that might have been important to know since, you know, I am the host. Now I look like an idiot for not dressing up as something! I mean, you came as a spectre I think, and China, whatever the heck he's supposed to be—"

"A Jiangshi—"

"—is at least dressed up as something. I'm sorry, France, but I just don't like being completely forgotten like that!" Images from the dream surfaced to his mind, and Canada struggled with himself to keep his temper in check. "I just…wish someone told me. I feel like…like…I don't know. But I feel like I should do something about this."

France gave Canada's shoulder a comforting pat. "Everything will be alright, Canada. We didn't forget about you. We never told you because we thought we didn't need to. I'm sure you understand." A tiny spark flashed in Canada's eyes, and France smiled. "Now come. You have a meeting to prepare for."

Taking deep, calming breaths, the Canadian returned to the front of the room. Nearly everyone was present and seated, some even giving the standing nation questioning looks, but Canada decided he'd begin the conference now.

"Good morning, everyone. I'd like to begin this month's meeting with a recap of the latest decision made upon the issue of controlling the exportation of dangerous chemi—"

The oak doors burst open. "Sorry I'm late." sang Russia, clearly not at all upset for disturbing the meeting. "The traffic was terrible on the way—"

"That's it; I give up!" He narrowed his eyes at the interrupting nation, causing the latter to falter slightly at the withering look. "What are you supposed to be, a bear? It doesn't matter. You guys can have your fun. If you don't want to treat this—or me—seriously, then why should I?" Canada marched over to his seat beside Mexico and collapsed in it, head between folded arms.

"What's wrong with him?" the Russian asked with mild confusion.

"Just PMSing," joked America as he stood. "Right! So since he's not going to talk, I will." There was a loud collective groan. Canada tuned out the ramblings of his brother and let himself drift off. He wasn't aware of how long he stopped paying attention to the meeting, but he knew it was better listening to whatever thoughts went through his head than whatever was spoken out loud. They didn't respect him, so why should he give a care about what they said?

Oh? Something must be wrong with his ears, Canada thought, as his mind slowly returned to the conscious world. He could swear he heard America talking about—

"So glad you thought that through," sneered England, "After all, what will be the chances that the human police will be after you in the morning? We're only out for one night, America."

Huh? What was he talking about?

"Yeah, but I already went through almost 364 days of boringness. Some excitement is needed, bro. Seriously, I clean the chainsaw and no one will be the wiser. I've done it hundreds of times before."

Chainsaw? So he was serious about needing it?

Japan sighed quietly. "But America, I think the problem England is talking about is that you will be making it too noticeable. You'll be discovered. And we don't need that kind of attention."

"Mexico?" Canada whispered to his half-brother. "What is America talking about?" The man in black leaned over.

"Nothing too big; just what we're doing this evening."

"I thought we were going out."

"We are. And that's what America's explaining. The only problem is how we're spending the evening."

Canada was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there's a large party tonight in the city. America wants to go there instead of to the outskirt neighborhoods like we always do."

"Why does he want to go to this party at all? And do what exactly?"

"To kill everybody."

The sheer blunt, nonchalant answer made Canada fall from his seat and land clumsily on his back. He hastily got back into his chair. All eyes were on him.

"S-sorry!" he gasped, "But America! What the heck!?" His brother tilted his head.

"What?"

"How could you think of doing such a thing!?" This was not like his brother at all to joke like that! Who was this person who stood before him, and why was everyone else so calm about this?

A slow, crooked smile grew on the American's face. "What are you talking about, Canada? We've been discussing this for weeks. I mean the humans rarely hold such large Halloween parties nowadays. How else are we supposed to have our fun? A little killing spree never hurt anyone, and I haven't had one in ages."

But Canada's rapid heartbeats nearly drowned out his brother's voice. His blood was flowing like ice through his veins, and sweat was accumulating in his palms. No. No. This wasn't America; or rather, this wasn't America acting normal. This was a prank. That's right! Everyone was pulling his leg with the costumes; this was just an extra part of the elaborate joke. The Canadian fell mute.

Mexico leaned back in his seat. "Do what you want, hermanito, but I'm not going to join you this time. I'm betting there'll be many muchachas in the town over who would love to be serenaded with my songs. Beauty before blood I always say."

"That sounds like a nice evening," beamed Italy. "Germany said he's going to take us hunting since Japan couldn't at his home last year and I haven't been successful in catching anything for almost a decade."

"Well, if you stop flirting with the women and actually try, I'm sure you can make one yours," huffed Germany. Canada let out a tiny squeak when the 'fake' ears on his head folded back.

"Ah, but the women are so pretty. I don't want to soil them with their blood and my claw marks."

"Why do you care? We can do whatever we want with normal humans without repercussion," China uttered a reminder to Italy.

"All I'm really concerned about is my brother. I have a feeling he'll be up to something devilish tonight."

"No need to worry there," smirked France, the lantern by his side wobbling slightly as he sat up straighter. "Prussia and I will be up to our usual antics like always. Spain can't join us this year, which is a shame since we had such lovely plans of luring away many young maidens tonight."

"What you do is hardly considered fun," growled the Brit. "Beckoning young women into the woods then leaving them stranded there until morning is merely a waste of everybody's time. If you're going to do something, go feed." He sighed. "Tea is great and all, but sometimes I simply yearn for the sweet taste of innocence's blood—"

"And not all of us can feed, remember?" huffed France. "At least on blood. I'm with Italy on this; I have no desire to tarnish a pretty lady's soul tonight." He turned to Russia. "Do you have any plans tonight, Russia?"

"Yes. I have many plans tonight," the Russian smiled cutely. They all left it at that.

"What are you doing, Canada?" Japan looked curiously at the shivering nation. Canada quickly averted his eyes toward the door.

"I-I, uh, I'm g-going to spend the evening with Amer—I mean with Mexico." How he prayed that was a satisfactory answer. These guys were insane for taking the joke this far. He'd much rather go home and forget this meeting ever happened, but word had already spread he was spending the night with his brothers. Maybe while they were out he could sneak away and call the authorities. Or their bosses. Someone who could handle them if they were serious about this.

"So long as you have plans," England muttered in a tone of uninterest, but Canada didn't miss how the Englishman's gaze stayed locked on him a bit longer than necessary. Actually, he could swear everyone's eyes were on him.

He forced his tightening throat to swallow. "Y-yes?"

"Can you dismiss us now? We're all ready to leave."

"Oh, right. Sorry, England. You're all dismissed." For all he knew, he just unleashed destruction upon the world. The nations stood, and all headed for the door. Canada hung back, pretending to gather his unused papers. Once the last person stepped out, he whipped out his cell phone and typed in his boss's number. "Please pick up," he muttered as it rang once. Twice. Then—

"I'm sorry, but the number you are calling has been temporarily disabled. Please try again later."

How can it be disabled? It made no sense—his boss's line was never down.

Swallowing down the small bile rising in his throat, Canada made for the doors. He poked his head out and made sure no one was around before he dashed out of the room and headed for the exit. He rounded the corner, not paying attention where he was heading.

"Whoa! Oh, hey, Canada."

"H-hey America," the other gulped as said nation turned to him. "Where's Mexico?" Even though they were the same height, he somehow seemed to tower over him.

"He went on ahead," smirked America, taking a step forward. His brother immediately took one back. "So listen– me and Mexico were thinking maybe you should sit this year's bloodbath out."

"Is th-that so," was the squeak for a response. He tried to retreat backward another step, but his side had hit the wall; and rather than make it obvious he was fleeing, he halted like a scared rabbit in his flight. America had him cornered.

"Yeah," his voice oddly low, "You haven't been acting like yourself lately. You sick? We know how much you love Halloween, but maybe tonight you should get some rest."

"Y-y-yeah, I think I will. I did feel unwell th-this morning." He stiffened when America twirled to his side, clapping a hand around his waist. Canada regretted looking into those narrowed eyes of ice.

"Then you should have said something sooner. Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea something wasn't right with you." Instantly his tone lightened. "Well, see ya!" And he gave one final pat before spinning on his heels and strolling away, whistling a merry tune. Canada could only stare after his form, watching in mesmerized horror as the orange cloak disappeared behind the corner. Gathering his senses, his heart still pounding, his mind still in hyperdrive, Canada raced down the hall.

To say this wasn't normal would be an understatement. It was like Canada woke up in a completely different world where, apparently, his friends were bloodthirsty monsters. No, no, that would be ridiculous! But how else could he explain it? And how did he end up here? His immediate thought was this was a dream, but something in his heart told him this was real.

He slowed as he ran past a window. Hold on. He backtracked to the pane and stared out. The sun was half set. How—we were here for only a few hours! There was no way that much time could have passed that quickly unless he had been asleep much longer than he thought. Picking up his pace, he dashed out the back doors leading to the parking lot. He quickly located the car, strangely the only one here. As he neared the door, he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. "Come on, come on. Where is it?" Why couldn't he find his blasted keys? He knew he left them in his left pocket where—

America. He felt the chill sweep down his spine. America had…

"What are you still doing here?" Canada nearly had a heart attack as he jumped and quickly turned around. China was standing right behind him. When did he…? Canada gulped. Having first thought it was make-up, he now knew why the nation looked paler than usual.

"I-I, uh, I…America stole my keys. I'm locked o-out of my car." He felt ready to pee himself as China leaned forward and tried the door.

"You're not joking. Stupid America." He sighed, beckoning for Canada to follow. "Come. I take you back to the front. Maybe we can find someone who help." The Canadian wasn't so sure about following, but follow he did as they walked at a too leisurely pace around the building.

"So why you not with Mexico? Didn't you plan to go out together?"

"We did…uh…" He had to keep his cool; China was giving him an inquiring look. "But we made different arrangements a-at the last second. I was to go with America, but, w-well, America didn't get the memo…I guess." China shrugged, seeming to have believed it. Canada prayed he did. Keep up the act. "So China, you never said what you're doing tonight."

"I'm going Qi hunting. I'm not as young as I used to, so going longer without food is tiresome. I almost took two humans' Qi on way here. I didn't though." He sighed again. "But I wish I did. Sometimes it suck I can't hunt until night. And it doesn't help humans like to stay indoors then."

"Out of curiosity, why do you keep referring to normal people as 'humans'? I mean, aren't we all?" China stopped in his tracks, and Canada was terrified he let loose something he shouldn't have. Brown eyes slowly peeked back.

"Not anymore. Some of us never were." He looked up at the gradually darkening sky. "We monsters don't need to care about humans' wellbeing like in past. There are so many now, all living so much longer lives, it's a wonder we contain ourselves to just one night a year. You know they're like pigs to us, and they've just grown fatter and more numerous than before. Why should we feel for slaughtering prey that's grown tastier?" Canada nodded numbly, stepping into the light of the streetlamp in front of the building.

"We shouldn't, should we?"

A slight grin. "Of course not. Pigs are pigs. We care not for pigs; they just dumb beasts, not like in the past when they were smarter. But sometimes a smart pig crops up." Skin instantly going cold and clammy, purple irises contracting, Canada snapped his head back a little too quickly, making himself go slightly dizzy. China just kept his smug smile. "Little piggy should hurry home."

"Canada!" Canada whipped his head around again, nearly cracking his neck as he faced Russia who chuckling happily and waving at him. The large man jogged up to him. "So what you still be doing here this late? And why are you by yourself?"

Canada blinked. "N-no! I was with…" But turning around revealed no China. "B-but China was right here!" Russia's head tilted.

"Silly Canada." He ruffled his hair. "Are you walking home? I can take you."

"No, no thank." But Russia insisted, and Canada couldn't really fight against the larger nation. They walked in silence down the dark, empty roads, eventually stumbling upon a path Canada was not familiar with. Probably because it cut through a woodsy park. "Um, Russia, do you know where we're going?"

"Da!" Was the pleasant reply. Nervous but not wanting to say anything, Canada let Russia lead him further and further into the forest. After walking for ten minutes off the beaten trail, he stopped.

"Look, Russia, I don't think this is the way home."

"Of course it isn't," he giggled. The Canadian faltered.

"W-wait, I thought you said you were taking me home."

Russia laughed childishly, small pointed teeth poking out. "I never said I was taking you home, silly Canada. I said I could take you. Away." He narrowed his eyes, which glowed faintly in the moonlight. "I never had a hunt before where the prey was so willing." He stalked closer. Canada took several steps back just to keep the same distance away.

"You wouldn't hurt a fellow nation, would you?" His high voice betrayed his desperation to get away from the prowling monster. His eyes searched around frantically for something—anything—that could serve as a potential weapon. There was nothing within arm's reach.

"Status as a nation means nothing to me." Another step. "There's not much food for me back home. I might as well take any opportunity I can for an easy meal. And a little fun." Canada backed right up into a tree. He pressed his back against it in an almost vain and petty attempt to pass through it. Russia's gloved hand shot out, pinning the trapped man by his chest. "I guess you weren't much fun at all."

"Let him go, Russia." The Russian visibly growled as he looked to the right. Canada followed his gaze. Not twenty feet away were France and England, the former looking concerned, the latter bored. A wave a relief overcame him, quickly followed by a sense of utter dread. These men weren't his saviors.

France dashed forward and grabbed Russia's arm. "What is the meaning of this, Russia? Why are you attacking Canada?" The Russian bear monster lifted his arm, and Canada slid down to the ground, his legs trembling too much to support him.

"I don't need to explain myself. Though I could ask what you're doing here. And with England."

"Small business," England spoke up, coming forward between him and Canada. "A quick discussion between rivals over boundaries. Speaking of which, you're outside yours. If I recall, this isn't your territory. You have no right to hunt or kill here." Russia shrugged.

"I was hoping not to get caught." He threw a quick dirty scowl at the still trembling Canada before stomping out of the clearing and disappearing into the shadows. France tried to help him up, but Canada refused his hand.

"Canada, what are you doin—"

"Just leave!" Canada cut him off. He wobbled as he stood, momentarily surprised the direness of the situation wasn't helping him maintain a sense of balance. "Just leave me alone! You all are insane!"

"And why should we do that?" huffed the Englishman. France turned to him with a confused expression.

"England, what are you say—" But England dashed forward at an alarming speed, pushing France away and, just like Russia, slammed Canada back against the tree. Canada wasn't all that surprised this time around. He struggled against the man's grip with everything he had but grew frustrated when his attempts proved futile.

"You've no idea how much I've wanted to taste an innocence's blood tonight." He leaned in so close Canada could feel his hot breath against his neck. "Just a bite."

"Get away from him!" France shoved the vampire away from his potential victim. The Canadian fell to one knee before managing back to both feet. "This way!" Without thinking, Canada grabbed the Frenchman's outstretched hand. He was led through the forest, pushing past trees and shrubs that grabbed at his cloak. England, though too far behind to see, was right on their tail. France oddly enough (or should it be expectedly?) went unfazed by the limbs whipping at them. Canada, on the other hand, was constantly on the verge of tripping.

He eventually did. A jutted tree root caught him unexpectedly, and he tumbled to the ground. "France!" But his guide just kept on running, presumably too far away to hear him. The sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps could be heard through the foliage. The Englishman had nearly caught up! Canada forced himself back up and followed the small ball of light made by France's lantern that was still faintly visible. "Hold up!"

He ran for what felt like hours after the light despite knowing it couldn't have been more than several minutes. England hadn't gotten any closer but neither had France. Canada desired nothing more than for his former guardian to slow down and notice he wasn't right behind him; he himself was growing exhausted. The rollercoaster ride of emotions and adrenaline coupled with the extensive running was wearing his body out at an alarming rate. "Hold…on…" he huffed, collapsing once again to the dirt. Breathing heavily, he glanced ahead to see the lantern's glow tinkle out as it disappeared into the woods.

He had no choice but to stay and catch his breath. He curled a bit beneath a bush, keeping himself well out of sight should England somehow come this way. All he had to do was stay hidden until morning. Judging by what was said in the meeting room, dawn marked the end of their rampage. If he could hold out until then, then…well he wasn't quite sure, but hopefully by then this would be nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

He must have dozed off a bit because the next thing he knew his head was resting against his shoulder. He started, wondering when he fell asleep and what woke him up. The answer to the second question came forthwith.

Three pairs of glimmering eyes were glaring at him. Thoughtlessly, Canada reached for his coat pocket, not entirely sure why since he had no keys he could use as a make-shift weapon. The eyes came closer until finally their owners stepped out from the bushes. Canada scooted back. They were out of their formal attire.

Germany frowned. "We weren't expecting you here tonight. We've been granted access to these grounds. Go find your own."

"Actually, Germany," Japan piped up, his animalistic eyes narrowing in malicious mirth, "Let's let Canada stay here a bit longer."

"Yeah!" agreed Italy, his genuine happy-go-lucky tone actually making the situation more terrifying than it needed to be. "We can go hunting with Canada."

Oh he did not like where this was going at all. Before the three of them could react, Canada scrambled off into the woods, just managing to right himself as he slid past a startled Italy. He could hear the three of them right after him; they were much faster than England. They'd overtake him in seconds. With this knowledge in mind, Canada sought for something he could use as a weapon. There weren't any fallen branches on the forest floor, so he had to improvise and break one off a tree he passed. It wasn't very thick, but it was long enough for his purposes.

He reached another clearing when a shadow darted in front of him. Reacting quickly, Canada leaped backward, avoiding Germany's claws by centimeters. Japan and Italy surrounded him from behind. Their prey took a defensive stance, holding the branch out like a sword. "You really think a twig will do you any good?" taunted the German.

"It's enough to handle three mutts," he retorted. Maybe talking sass wasn't the smartest move for anyone when confronting a pack of werewolves, but with his patience gone, his anger rising, and half his night wasted running away from these weirdos, he felt he had every right to snap back. Germany bared his teeth, exposing the elongated canines. "Well, mutt?"

Japan leaped first, but Canada had already anticipated a surprise attack. He ducked low and swept his leg out and under the kitsune. Japan jumped into the air to dodge the kick, but that left him vulnerable to Canada continuing his spin and slapping the twig against his side. It was by luck the branch hit Japan across his neck and face. The fox landed, cupping a hand over the side of his face as Germany made a more direct approach with charging. Canada swung the branch down in an arc, using it like a whip. He hit the German on the shoulder but did little to stop the attack.

Germany pinned him to the ground. Growling in frustration, the Canadian brought his knees up under him and jammed Germany in the stomach. Germany's hold weakened enough for him to twist his upper torso and aim a solid punch to the face. The werewolf recoiled, and Canada scrambled to his feet, grabbing the stick, and aiming it once more at his target's head. But Germany changed. In the span it takes one to blink, he had transformed into an enormous beast. His powerful jaws bit down on the branch with so much force Canada almost lost his hold on it. He tried to swing it out, but the wolf twisted his head, splintering the branch in two.

Thinking fast, Canada jabbed the jagged end of the stick into Germany's snout, who let out a bark of pain. He spun around to see the German's companions also transformed, another giant wolf and a large fox blocking his path. He threw his stick. It spun like a discus at a speed too startling to register. Thanks to that, Japan was once again struck. Canada pushed past him, not even bothering to subdue the final werewolf who just stood there. If memory served, Italy himself suggested he wasn't much of a hunter.

It was by some miracle he reached the edge of the woods and found himself on an empty road. A familiar empty road—this street corner was only a few blocks away from his house.

Howls from behind alerted him he was still in imminent danger. He jogged to his house, turning the corner right, right, then left until he could see—

Oh thank goodness! His home was just two buildings down. He burst through the front doors. His lights were off, just as he left them when he walked out this morning. So where was that glow in the living room coming from? He approached slowly, even though in the back of his mind he knew who it was. He always did things like this, after all.

"Didn't think you'd make it back so soon," chuckled America. He was sitting comfortably in the armchair beside the lit fireplace. Not sure why, Canada took a step into the room.

"Where's Kumajirou?" His voice was much calmer than how he felt. His brain was slowly going numb. His own brother wouldn't have…

"He's out back," smiled America as if he just told him he let the dog out, "I gave him something to eat when I got here, don't worry." The two brothers continued to stare at each other in silence. "You don't look so good."

"You already knew that," snapped Canada. America held up his hands as if proving he was innocent. "I'm going to bed."

"Sure thing, bro," nodded America. Neither made a move. Finally, "Okay, okay." He awkwardly dug into his pockets and tossed the stolen keys to his brother. Canada caught them and slowly stepped out of the room, keeping his eyes trained on America the entire time. His twin made no movements to go after him. As he climbed up the stairs one step at a time he thought about his night and the scares he had to go through. He went over the facts stated back at the meeting. And he recalled every emotion he felt since this morning. His eyes narrowed.

The sense of something not right grew tenfold.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom. The room was pitch-black. Sighing to himself, the nation flipped the switch. "That son of a—" Only America would think of taking out the light bulbs to the ceiling light. His frown quickly morphed into a scowl as he felt his way through his room searching for the nightstand. His hand banged against one of its legs, causing Canada to inhale sharply. Careful not to knock it over, he turned it on.

The room was flooded in dim orange light, but it was more than enough for Canada to read the message scribbled over his bed. Written in charcoal on the wall were the words: Look Behind You. He did so.

America was right behind him, chainsaw in the air, his mask obscuring the entirety of his face. Canada's eyes widened as he started up the cutting tool, and he screamed as he dodged when his brother swung his arms downward. The machine was inches from nicking his fingers off. Canada had rolled onto the bed. "You'd attack me like the others!?"

"HAHA! And who do you think told them to?" America responded, his laugh high and maniacal. He brought his weapon back up.

He knew this was close to the thousandth time he said this but: "You're insane!"

"Aren't we all?" He swung again, this time so close Canada could feel a breeze from the rotating teeth. They bit into his bed instead when he moved.

He's serious! America had been that close to chopping his own brother's hand clean off. Canada tossed two pillows at his brother. The latter swung again and tore the pillows into pieces. But that was plenty of time for Canada to hop off the bed and run out the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He ran down the hall. Going against what was expecting, America calmly opened the door rather than try to cut it down with his saw.

"Hey, Canada, you know the rules: once a human's been targeted, you can't let him live." He dashed at a clunky but impressive speed after his fleeing brother. Canada was running out of viable options. And very soon he hit a dead end. He looked at the wall like it had appeared from thin air. A shadow loomed over him.

The final piece of him snapped and Canada whirled around at his brother in fury, his hand naturally grabbing for the keys in his pocket, twisting them forward, and raking the teeth across America's leg. They did not even tear the pants' fabric. But the older brother had not expected the sudden fierce attack, and he hesitated in his assault for a split second.

Canada kicked him, and for a second he thought he broke his foot. America's leg was hard! Still, the momentum was enough to knock America back a bit. He managed to squeeze past his toppling brother and back toward the stairs of the second floor. He could hear the revving of the chainsaw. He glanced back.

"Boo!" The chainsaw came from nowhere! Canada leaned back to avoid decapitation; an action that made him lose his balance and send him falling over the banister. He fell, and his back and head slammed against the hardwood floor beneath. The nation was at first too stunned and dazed to even move.

But sense slowly flowed back into him. He haggardly sat up. The sound of pounding footsteps made him aware of the returning threat. It took more effort to get to his feet, but he did, and he made his way to the kitchen. He was done fooling around.

He didn't even need to turn on the lights, his movements so natural and used to the flow. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a weapon that was far superior to the pathetic stick and keys. He went back and waited patiently by the doorway.

It wasn't long before America's silhouette appeared. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he practically sang. His hand reached forward and flipped on the light switch. Canada lunged. His cutting knife dug into America's leg, and the nation fell. But the other was done with his previous hit-and-run methods. Now he was going to finish the job.

He pushed down harder on the knife until a thin stream of dark crimson seeped from the wound. "Argh! H-hey, Canada! Quit it!" But the younger refused to listen. He pressed harder, and more blood slowly flowed out. Oh the sight, how it slowly crept down his legs like liquid ruby. It never ceased to amuse him, and he wanted to see more of it.

He pulled the blade out, earning a painful gasp from the one lying beneath him. Then he jabbed it at America's chest. For some reason, the tip didn't go as far deep as Canada intended. How irritating!

"¡Hermano! ¡Hermano, alto!" The noise rudely brought away Canada's attention. How dare the intruder ruin his fun. Mexico came from the doorway, grabbing his brother's arm. "You can stop now, Canadá!"

"Yeah, dude," breathed America, "You're okay now." Canada continued to glare between them. "Right, I hate it when that happens. You were having another episode, bro."

His twin cocked a brow. "What?" his voice low and threatening more pain if they did not hurry and answer his question.

"Amnesia," replied America, clutching his leg tightly. "Or is it split-personality? Anyways, this happens almost every year; usually on some random, unimportant day though. But you were out of it longer than normal; almost the whole day it seems." He winced. "Man, even when wearing your hockey gear underneath, you managed to get me."

"Not my fault," snarled Canada. Mexico patted him on the shoulder.

"That's the little bro we've come to know and love," he teased. He looked sympathetically at the man on the ground. "I'll help you get that patched up. Then what do you say we hit the town for a little midnight madness, eh?"

"Sure," grinned the America. He gingerly got to his feet. "Oh, Canada?" He tossed a spare hockey mask hidden in his coat. "You'll be needing that." His brother smirked, and his eyes flashed with mirth.

El Sombrerón – an infamous boogeyman-like character from Guatemala but also known in parts of Mexico. He's a man dressed completely in black and decked with thick boots who travels around with his mules carrying coal. As his name implies, he's most famous for the large black hat he wears atop his head that shadows his eyes. El Sombrerón has a fondness for braiding horse tails and courting young women. Women who fall for his charm, however, are unable to eat or sleep as El Sombrerón puts soil in their food and keeps them up each night with his beautiful songs. I have to say, without a doubt, El Sombrerón is one of my new favorite Central American legends.