"Get away from me!" Alfred shouted as his arms went up to protect himself against the descending metal pipe.

Opening his eyes when the blow never came, Alfred realized he was back in his bedroom. He was already sitting up on his bed without knowing it, but when he got out, there was a stinging pain on his right arm. Thinking nothing of it, Alfred went downstairs where his brother was already preparing them breakfast. As he had promised, Matthew cleaned the stairwell as well as kitchen floor, evident by the smell of hydrogen peroxide still lingering in the air. Alfred watched from the doorway of the kitchen and noticed that not a sharp utensil was in sight; the meal from yesterday precut into bite-sized pieces. Sensing that he was being watched, Matthew turned around and gave Alfred a warm smile, gesturing him to have a seat. Alfred muttered a 'thank you' before taking his seat and a sip of his coffee. It still tasted odd, but Alfred didn't bother to bring it up again, for there was a more pressing matter.

"Is it normal to have the same dream twice?" Alfred asked aloud, knowing that the Canadian sitting on the opposite side of the table was listening.

"Sometimes, there may be meaning behind them," Matthew answered, not much of an interpreter. "Mind telling me what you dreamt about?"

"I was in the middle of nowhere basically, surrounded by snow. There was a mansion of some sort before me…and I saw Arthur enter it…there was also Ivan…am I seeing ghosts?" Alfred asked fearfully.

"It was just a dream, I'm sure it's normal to dream about those who have recently died,"

It's just probably the side effects of the anti-depressants.

Contemplating over the offered explanation, Alfred finally dug into his breakfast with his plastic fork.

Good, at least some of his appetite is back.

There was moment of comfortable silence between them until Alfred froze in place, the fork half-way up toward his mouth. "But wait! I saw Toris in the manor too. He's unconscious but not dead…we have to visit him now!"

"Eh, this early? Are you sure-hey wait," Matthew stuttered, already seeing Alfred exit the front door.

In the car, Matthew still insisted that he drives for fear that Alfred may want to commit suicide with him still in the vehicle. Once at the hospital, Alfred was about enter the door to Toris's room when a staff went through it first, pushing a metal cart into the room with a large black bag on top. Heavy sobs were heard inside the room along with maddening shrieks.

"NO! He can't be dead damn it…that's totally impossible!" the twins heard Feliks scream at the staffs who were preparing to send Toris's body to the morgue. "Just how the fuck did he die? He was in a coma!"

"R-respiratory failure…" the doctor tried to explain calmly to the Pole. "Apparently he wasn't breathing even though we placed an oxygen mask on him,"

A small squeak came from Matthew, but Alfred was already next to the brunette's body wide-eyed.

"Can you at least like, give us some time before taking his body away?"

Exasperated, the doctor nodded and signaled the assistants to leave, closing the door behind him.

Feliks continued to hold onto the Lithuanian's limp hand, saying a prayer beneath his breath.

Matthew silently went next to the weeping blonde, placing a supportive hand on his shaking shoulders.

One look at Toris, and Alfred saw that his whole body was covered with fresh lacerations, bruises, and blood. His neck and face now marred with scars, the sight caused Alfred's left wrist and right arm to burn. Alfred gave his right arm a squeeze before asking "Shouldn't we clean the blood?"

"What blood, Alfred?"

"The one…" the American stopped himself when he looked back at Toris, corpse becoming pale and frigid…but not bleeding.

"I-I saw it! He was bleeding from the neck!"

"There's nothing there."

"My dream…"

"Was just a dream," Matthew completed for him. "And shouldn't be taken seriously."

During the twins' exchange, Feliks remained silent, tuning the brothers out. His light-green eyes fixated on his best friend.

"We're being rude, please excuse us Feliks." Matthew left, a distressed Alfred behind him.

"So…explain how this relates to your dream," Matthew requested, trying to test his patience.

Perking up from his seat, Alfred responded immediately "I saw Toris in my dream just last night, he was mumbling something and didn't even talk to me when I asked him what he was doing there. You said that I dream of the dead…so…" the American slowed, trying to find the right words for his conclusion.

"You thought Toris was dead, and you were right," the Canadian finished.

Alfred acknowledged the statement, looking at Matthew. "What does this mean? I really am seeing ghosts aren't I?"

"Just coincidence," Matthew assured, never taking his eyes off the road. "Nothing more than coincidence." He repeated more to himself than his brother.

X.X.X.X

"Coincidence…no such thing as ghosts…" Alfred whispered to himself in bed. Although not much has happened that day, Alfred felt exhausted and went to bed without Matthew having to tell him to. His eyelids may feel heavy, but his mind remained reeling. "Dream…of the dead…" he kept telling himself before drifting off to sleep.

But if that manor houses the dead, why am I there?

"He'll find me…"

Alfred was familiar with this: Toris was still in the manor. He will get answers from the Lithuanian this time. From the dreary living room, Alfred retraced his footsteps from last night to the equally dreary room where Toris huddled himself in its corner. "Toris, let me ask you a few-" when he actually saw the brunette, Alfred had to look away abruptly, preferring to stare at the blood-stained floor.

Toris heard his name, and looked up in Alfred's direction. This action shouldn't have frightened Alfred, but the fact that the white parts of Toris's eyes were black made him falter.

"Al…fred?" Toris choked out, blood gushing from the slit on his throat after every syllable. Aside from his neck, the rest of the wounds on him reopened and began to dye the carpeted floor a darker shade of scarlet.

"W-where are we?" Alfred tried to find his voice again. "Why are you here?"

Toris appeared shocked by these questions, looking at Alfred curiously. For the American, it was like staring into black holes, except for the forest-green orbs floating in the middle.

"You…don't…know?" Toris managed to cough out. Blood started to run down the edges of his pale bottom lip, trickling to the ground. "This is Ivan's house."

"…You need to get out of here,"

"But-"

"Now!" Alfred exclaimed as he yanked the Lithuanian to his feet. He then shoved the brunette through the door with some effort and continued to do so down the corridor. As he back-tracked, Alfred saw that on Toris's back was a lattice work of scars. He had to turn to the colorless wall to avoid throwing up on the spot. Although he knew better than to make Toris talk, Alfred couldn't stand the sound of his own shuffling feet. "So…every time I come here it's always dark, does the sun ever rise?" he asked when they were one turn away from the living room.

Toris shook his head. "Morning…will never…come…" he answered slowly and somberly.

"Well, we're here," Alfred stated, pushing the double doors open to reveal the snowfield ahead.

"There's…no…where to go…" the brunette said pessimistically.

"Anywhere…even nowhere, is better than here," Alfred responded, gently pushing Toris forward.

Cautiously, Toris took his first step outside, and then another, his boots soundlessly going over the snow. When Alfred didn't follow him, he looked back. "W-what about you?"

Alfred gave him a sad smile before answering. "There's someone else who needs saving."

As if on cue, the metal doors closed on him.