Chapter 1

Title: The Merchant of Death

Beta: Kay

A/N: Hello readers! So, today marks the 1 year anniversary of the publication of American Trains on FFN. Woo~! Hence, why I decided to post chapter 1 for the sequel tonight. Pardon that silly logic, I just think it's kind of cool. And as I said in the prologue, I will address all the beautiful comments y'all left me for the ending of AT also, for the prologue as per usual. Sorry if that sounds stupid, i just don't like leaving reviewers unanswered. ^^

For AT -

Sammicakes: Thank you so much, darling. The history lesson will continue on in the sequel as well!

Blackcat: Oh ho, hasn't quite ended, now has it, lovely?

TG: Well, promise to bring everything to a close in this and def. wrap everything up properly.

Renuki: Haha, I had to give them a happy semi-ending with what I put them through. It's only fair. ;)

Skadiyoko: D'awww, I read Turquoise as well, quite sad! But wooo for happy endings-ish.

aerrow4eva: I couldn't leave Hero and Cisco behind. :3

Inkaugneato: Awww~! Happy endings get me kinda misty too. :P I try not to read stuff at work just for that fact. xD Don't thank me! Thank you for reading and reviewing. Hahaha

lightsnowfall: Ah, people, stop thanking me~! y'all are waaay too nice. It was an absolute joy to write and I'm glad someone else enjoyed it as well.

rat300: No, no! I love poetic lines like that! Haha, thank you so much, dear, and I'm really flattered with how high on your favorites list it is. ^^

Kay: How you managed to get in my head and made yourself a little home there is still beyond me *fistbump* You're so awesome, girly girl. I didn't manage to get that elusive tear I've been hunting for, but let's see if I can bottle one with the sequel. *evil grin*

elle268: Doh, you people with your sensitive tear ducts. LOL. :)

wraightsky: Lack of research and misinformation is the bane of this fandom, I'm tellin' you. Aww, but who could resist a horse with a name like Hero? :3 Oh and you're absolutely right. These two are both very broken individuals, who probably would break down and drop from society without each other, however. They act as support pillars for one another. I couldn't let them crumble, and even if it is a a terrible relationship on the psychological level.

alguien22792: I aim to make you all sob. xD

18dustyrose: Haha, yes, bless his cold, murderous heart!

xXFree_Falling_AngelXx: Awww, thank you, lovely~! I hope it brings you many more enjoyable reads.

Finished it in a Day: Lol, I wish I had made them go through Lawrence, just for the Supernatural references I could make. xD

Bleedingsmirk: Lol, best crossover ever!

animefangirl55: Glad to be the exception to that. I know how you feel. Sometimes I lose the motivation to read sorties if a strong plot isn't present.

NixRegina: Thanks! ^^

buttercup and cornflower: Of course I appreciate the review, sweetheart! I love the fact that you could follow it just like I wrote it. You hearing the accents and seeing the Kansan plains is just perfect!

MCRgirl BMW: Daww~ Thanks

Sora Resi: Heheh, well, here it is! ;)

CrimsonButterflyTearDrops018: Awww, 'adorkable'~ That was cute! ^^

For FY-

Kay: Lol, Well, what if I do? ;)

blackcat: Oh, certainly! You'll get to see a few of my favorites come back and naturally, some new ones. ;)

CBTD018: Yeeeeeeees!

april sherbet: Haha, yup! Artie loves his cowboy. ;)

TG: OH HAI THUR YOURSELF, MISSY. AND YES I SEE THE EXCITE IN YOUR KEY-SMASH.

Demand Truth: Woah. o_0 Hello there fantastic writer turned reader! Oh, I can't promise you anything just yet, lovely. *pats head* yes, yes, Al is a dorable and deserves only happiness, but that doesn't make much of a plot, does it? :)

Sora Resi: Woo!

BlackWolf2Dragoon: ah, spelling, who needs it? Hehehe, oh, you gonna try to guess the plot too? :P

ncalkins: Oh, 2p! Artie is so boss! I love him!

Mokuren no Ken: Yay!

sammy-girl12: Oh no! Don't cry yet!

Urchin of the Riding Stars: Hey, I can get behind RusAme, but USUK will always be my OTP. *bows* Thank you, doll!

Wow! Sorry that was so long guys! On to the show then!


A brisk, damp breeze glided over the old worn path Alfred trod upon on his way home from work. The coming night air was flooded with the scent of rain, and the rapid pressure drop was causing Alfred's shoulder to ache horribly. The ex-cowboy rubbed his stiff shoulder with his gloved hand, rolling his thumb against the indent left by his old gunshot wound from nearly three years ago. As his fingers worked to soothe the weakened muscle, his mind trailed back to the mishap that had given him the painful scar in the first place. Alfred could very clearly recall the murderous Kansan farmer and his rifle. He could remember the sound of the bolt sliding back and the explosive exit of the bullet, and the sudden, terrible pain that had ripped through his shoulder.

Alfred heaved a tired sigh, dropping his hand, and looking up at the dark, rolling clouds above him. It was hard to imagine that it had already been three years since his unexpected meeting with Arthur and the terrifying, yet strangely enjoyable flight from his past life. His unfocused, blue eyes were looking far away from the oncoming thunderstorm.

Meeting Arthur Kirkland had been an accident. But an accident the ex-cowboy didn't regret or want to change in the slightest. Alfred had never imagined encountering a small, strange Brit tangled up in barbwire in the middle of some dusty Kansas plain. But somehow it had happened, and Alfred was glad that fate had given him Arthur, even through such an odd encounter. He was even more grateful to Arthur himself, for easing the pain of his loneliness through his undying affections. While Arthur had a strange, terrifying way of showing how much he cared, it was endearing in its brightest of moments. But even those bright moments like when Arthur had first kissed him, or their time spent with Roderich, were overshadowed by the dark, murderous side of Alfred's lover.

The blue-eyed man shivered, whether from the chill breeze that swept through the air or the recollection of Arthur's apathetic murders, he wasn't sure. He had never fully come to grips or forgiven himself for letting Arthur murder three innocent people in their flight for freedom. He loved Arthur dearly, but he couldn't love the terrible things he did. There was also the case of Arthur killing Ivan, but that was an understandable act. Alfred didn't like the idea, but how could he blame his emerald-eyed lover for killing the man who had been hunting him for the better part of his adult life? He simply couldn't, but then again, Alfred wasn't sure if he could blame Arthur for any of the atrocities he had committed.

The debate had been raging inside him ever since he had first discovered Arthur's darker side. There were times when Arthur could be charming, docile and witty, but instantly switch to possessive, murderous and cruel in the blink of an eye. Alfred wasn't exactly sure where these changes came from, or why entirely, but eventually Arthur would return to his usual self. He was generally remorseful of his unexplainable switch, but had become so accustomed to these violent changes that he seemed to be slowly losing the will to regret his actions. Alfred wondered if it was a bad reaction cycle to fall into, but could never bring himself to be angry or afraid of Arthur. His half-hearted attempts to ever guilt the Brit simply led to forgiving him completely. Arthur already had plenty of insecurities, and Alfred didn't have the heart to show disapproval to the volatile blond. Besides, hadn't Arthur suffered enough? Alfred genuinely believed so.

The first fat drop of rain splashed on Alfred's glasses, startling him from his thoughts. Alfred looked around, unsure of how long ago he had stopped and stood in the middle of the road. Thankfully, there didn't appear to be anyone around to notice his strange behavior. The ex-cowboy bowed his head as the rain began to fall in earnest, and started walking again.

The usual heavy clicking of his boots became muffled as the ground greedily soaked up the cascading rain. As the droplets drummed monotonously against the ground, Alfred found his thoughts creeping up on him again. The first notion that came to the forefront was the baffling concept of time.

Three years. Three whole years since I met Artie...

Alfred shook his head slowly, scattering droplets of water that had collected in his now soaking fallow locks. The past year had gone by so quickly ever since the emerald-eyed Brit had returned to him on that lonely night under the full moon. The miserable two years left thinking that Arthur was dead prior to had seemed like an eternity though. He didn't much like recalling those dark days when it was all he could do to keep his head up and not sink to his knees from the pain in his heart. It had been the most awful feeling. Alfred had lost track of how many times he had awoken to tears in his eyes and no warm body beside him as he had dreamed of. He spent two long, anguishing years like that, and was prepared to accept it the rest of his life until by sheer will, Arthur had found him. The cowboy felt a warm smile spread across his lips. There was no way to describe the amazing feelings he had felt when Arthur had come back to him, crawled into his lap, kissed him like he never had before and told Alfred that he loved him. It had left his wounded heart bursting with sheer joy and excitement. There had never been a happier time in all of his life.

As he moved to start jogging, hoping to get home faster, his shoulder muscle gave a spasm from the pain of being jolted. Alfred cringed, his steps faltering for a moment. He wished his boss, a local oil baron, hadn't sent him home early due to his shoulder giving out. He'd accidentally lost control of one of the big stallions the baron kept at his stables when the animal had jerked the lead rope from his hand. Normally he would have been able to keep a hold on the animal with his impressive strength, but the rough tug had invoked his old wound to act up and Alfred had lost his grip. The baron hadn't been pleased, and had sent Alfred home with a few scathing remarks after the stableman had recovered the nervous stallion. But it wasn't something new. The baron knew full well about Alfred's bad shoulder and had sent him home on numerous occasions, always with biting words, but had yet to fire Alfred; it was probably due to the fact that when his shoulder wasn't acting up, Alfred made the perfect groom. There wasn't a horse he couldn't soothe, perfectly break in, or get to behave properly on any occasion. He had a special way with the big equestrians, stemming from his love and ownership of horses since childhood. And even after the baron had supposedly sent him home, Alfred had stayed, unbeknownst to his boss, to make sure the rest of the horses were properly groomed and bedded for the night.

A searing bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and a crashing boom of thunder followed just behind it, startling Alfred from his thoughts.

Alfred rubbed at his eyes as the water began to trickle into them. The rain blasted from the clouds, leaving waves of raining sheets to drench everything. The blue-eyed blond didn't have time to think anymore as he started to sprint down the soggy road. He could think at home, out of the rain and in the comfort of some hot food and Arthur's company.


*~.:FY:.~*


Arthur didn't bother to look up as the rain began to dribble from the ominous thunderclouds overhead. His piercing emerald eyes were focused solely on the small collection of oil workers and their sharply dressed employer standing in the middle of the field. The patch of open land was surrounded by thick birch trees, one of which Arthur was currently leaning his back against. He still didn't move when the rain began to batter the trees in harsh, blasting sheets.

His tailored brown suit quickly became drenched with the rain as it bounced from the birches' branches onto the leaf-carpeted forest floor and the lone Brit. The ground quickly turned slippery, and Arthur chuckled quietly as he watched the oil baron nearly fall flat on his face as he turned to hurry home.

Arthur shifted his hand into his pocket, and found the familiar smooth grip of his penknife hidden in the folds. He pulled it out, uncapped it and let his gloved fingers run over the incredibly sharp edge of the blade. The Brit smirked as he noted the slight tearing noise of the delicate glove fingertips being sliced open by the newly sharpened knife. It would cut so nicely into even more delicate skin.

The Brit shifted from his place against the birch tree and rolled his stiff shoulders. He had been waiting nearly an hour for the baron to finally separate himself from his workers.

From the little overheard conversation Arthur's keen hearing had picked up, it seemed as though they were looking for another oil-rich spot to drill for their company's newest well. The Brit likely would have had to wait even longer if the skies hadn't opened up to pour chilling sheets of rain onto the small Pennsylvania town. But it had, and for that, Arthur was grateful.

He was itching to get a hold of the oil baron and give him the pain that was coming to him. Arthur was sick and tired of the man belittling his lover for an old injury he had no control over. For a year now, Arthur had been watching his beloved ex-cowboy coming home from work despondent from the cruel man's insults. Alfred did the best he could with his old wounds, and he was damned good at his stable job. Arthur could attest to Alfred's excellent horsemanship and loving nature. This awful oil baron had no right to verbally abuse Arthur's lover for the normally wonderful job he did.

Loathing green eyes watched from the shadow of the trees as the baron approached his horse-drawn carriage. The coach's large black body was slick from the rain, and the driver looked absolutely miserable as he held the door open for his master. The pudgy baron huffed as he climbed into the carriage after briskly thanking the driver. The man grunted after the door shut, and tipped his hat, letting the collected water pour out of the rim before climbing back up to his seat.

Arthur moved to the very edge of the road, still hidden in the rain and darkness. At the crack of the whip, and the sound of hooves stomping the muddy road, Arthur stepped into the lane. The pair of black mares pulling the carriage snorted and threw back their heads. They splattered mud on Arthur's shoes and trouser legs as they drew to a halt just before the murderous Brit. Arthur quickly knelt, loosing a fake cry of pain as if the towering horses had struck him.

The driver swore before calling,

"Sir, are you hurt?"

When he didn't respond, the driver clambered down from his seat and rushed to where his horses stood.

"Sir, a-" He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Arthur grabbed the man's ankle and yanked him to the ground. The man went down with thick, sloshing thud, sending up a wave of sticky mud.

The horses shrieked as the Brit lunged forward, winding the fallen coach driver as he landed on top of him. The man opened his mouth to scream, but the only sound that escaped was a thick gurgling noise as Arthur slit his throat. The blood pooled up into his mouth, and spilt over in a foaming froth as the man writhed weakly before quickly going still beneath the emerald-eyed man.

Arthur smirked, and slid off of the corpse before rising to full height. The horses eyed him warily and snorted, leaving puffs of their hot breath in the air for the rain to disperse. Arthur patted the left one's velvety nose affectionately. The Brit had never been keen to the big domestic animals until meeting the ex-cowboy, but now found them quite charming beasts. Alfred was certainly wearing off on him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, my lovelies, but if you could meet the man I am protecting, then you would understand." He explained softly, making sure the right horse was given some attention as well. He continued petting the horses until the coach door opened and the fat oil baron peeked his fleshy face out of the carriage's belly.

"Mr. Jameson, why have we been stopped so long? What is going on?" The man called into the darkness.

Arthur couldn't help but smile broadly as he kept himself hidden between the tall bodies of the horses. The left horse snorted as Arthur unconsciously gripped the mare's bridle mount, shaking with giddy anticipation.

"Mr. Jameson?"

The baron frowned when he didn't receive and answer, and stepped out of the carriage. He adjusted his small, stiff hat to keep the rain out of his eyes and lumbered through the thick mud with a look of disgust on his face.

"Mr. Jameson, just what are you doing laying on the ground like that?" The pudgy man growled out as he peered at the shadowy outline of his driver's body lying in the mud. He squinted as he came closer, trying to deduce why his driver wasn't responding. He stepped up to the corpse and gasped, clasping his hand over his mouth in horror. The perfectly clean cut across Mr. Jameson's throat left a grinning red wound that split his throat from ear to ear.

"Good evening, Mr. Trolley." Arthur said politely as he stepped out from between the twin black horses. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, hiding the golden penknife from sight.

"Mr. Kirkland? Is that you?" The oil baron inquired in a trembling voice. "Mr. Kirkland, what happened? What happened to Mr. Jameson?"

Arthur looked down at the corpse between them. His brilliant emerald eyes flickered with amusement as he looked back up after a moment.

"It appears as if he's had a little accident, does it not, sir?" Arthur responded smoothly, flashing the penknife into view. The rain had washed away most of the blood, save for the trail of muddled pinkish water that ran off its slick edge. "Don't worry. I'll make it quick and painful."

The baron began to quake in overwhelming fear as Arthur encroached upon him, eyes aglow with murderous intent like a hungry predator. As the Brit stepped over the driver's chilled corpse, the pudgy man opened his mouth to plead.

"Please, Mr. Kirkland, don't do this! Stop! Stop coming closer!" He shrieked, voice breaking in terror. He started to back away, but his shoe sunk into the mud, leaving him trapped.

Arthur chuckled darkly as he came up to the man with a wicked grin on his lips.

"Please…" The man whimpered, trying desperately to free himself with wild, jerking movements. Arthur grabbed the man's collar, pulling him to his slender, drenched body.

"Stop squirming, you ugly little worm!" The Brit growled maliciously, his heart positively soaring in awful delight as the fat oil baron obeyed out of sheer terror.

"Please, I'll give you anything! Money, land, servants, anything! Just please let me go."

Arthur cocked a brow, loosening his grip as if he might actually be giving the offer some consideration. The baron quickly tried to seize on his chance and continued.

"Anything, Mr. Kirkland! Whatever you want, I swear it will be yours!"

"Anything, you say, Mr. Trolley?"

"Yes anything! Now let me go! I beg of you!"

Arthur smiled, and released the man's tight jowl collar. He stumbled back on his bulging legs and smiled. It was short lived as Arthur stepped forward and rammed the penknife into the underside of the oil baron's jaw. The man sputtered, blood pouring out from his mouth, dribbling from between his teeth. Arthur savagely wrenched the blade down, opening up a massive rift down the entire length of Mr. Trolley's throat. He yanked the blade free as he felt it strike the man's collar. A spray of blood erupted, painting Arthur's face and neck in red, and the Brit stepped back to let the body drop.

The emerald-eyed man raised his free hand to wipe the burning-hot, crimson liquid from his eyes. The rain was already beginning to wash away the rest and leave pink streams running down Arthur's soaked body. He stepped back from the corpse already sinking into the mud, and walked to the horses. They whinnied in fright, but Arthur reassured them with a few gentle pats. He easily undid the simple leather harnesses and buckles attaching them to the carriage in a few minutes. Once they were both undone, he slapped the left mare's thigh, sending her off into a gallop. The other mare quickly followed after and both vanished into the stormy night.

Once they had gone, Arthur glanced back at his victims one last time before he stowed the penknife back in his pocket.

"Thank you for the generous offer Mr. Trolley, but I'm a afraid the only thing I wanted was to kill you." The emerald-eyed Brit snickered before heading off to the river to properly wash the blood from his hair and clothes.


And that's the Arthur I have missed writing soooo~ very much, my lovelies!

Aww, thoughts, comments, concerns? Leave them in that very nice little review box below, if you please. ;)