AN: Hello everyone! I hope you had a great holiday. Here's the new chapter!

Also, warning: the nightmare later on may be a bit trigger-ish for suicide. Putting this here just in case. And, because I'm paranoid, I just want everyone to know I do not mean to be offensive in any way from anything in this, though especially when I bring in things like WWII and other things like that.

Okay... Please enjoy the chapter and I'll see you at the bottom of the page.

Despite it all, introductions after that went… fairly well. Arthur seemed to get over the fact that there were magical guardians in the room, though he kept murmuring and cursing under his breath, generally saying, in a way not suitable for children, that things could never be easy for him. While he didn't know if that was true, the man did make it a little easier on them by explaining what a nation was a little more clearly.

And, when he said easy… it was easy to explain up until a flying green bunny appeared next to Arthur's shoulder, along with several fairies. At that point… Jack thought Sandy was tricking him, but then it was pointed out that, well, the green bunny was real.

…Sure… why not?

While he tried to process that information, Arthur couldn't seem to stop muttering. He obviously knew more than Alfred and Matthew did, which didn't surprise him considering… He didn't think anything could surprise him anymore, even if he didn't know these guys. For the moon's sake, he was standing in front of America, Canada, and, if the accent was anything to go by, England. Still, after a minute or two, the brit stopped and turned towards them, his eyes still wary. The wariness did seem to be overshadowed by curiosity, however. "What brings all of you here?"

At this point, he knew Alfred and Matthew were at a loss about pitch's attempt at a comeback, but Arthur? He would have expected different, if only because the guy seemed to know them and he had fairies floating behind him. He explained, because those fairies looked about as protective of Arthur as Tooth's mini fairies were of her, "We were just looking for leads about a possible nightmare attack. Know anything about it?"

The nation raised an eyebrow, which looked kind of hard considering how big they were, and frowned. "Not exactly…" While Jack didn't like the sound of that, the nation paused for a brief moment before he inquired, "And who would be leading this assault..?"

Bunny answered, saying the name like it was the worst insult imaginable. "Pitch Black."

While he nodded at the name, there was a sudden change in Arthur's expression. There was no real recognition, but his questioning look became more guarded, like the name itself had told him to be wary. Then, a few seconds later, his eyebrows knit together. Jack knew the expression well. It was similar to how he looked when he was trying to look into one of his memories.

Alfred looked between the man and the guardians, though sky blue eyes lingered on the brit, concerned. His eyes seemed to un-cloud for a moment before they turned towards him and went right back to being glazed over. He muttered, his words slow, "…why does this sound like something from the Nightmare Before Christmas..?"

The winter spirit snorted softly in amusement, while North made a face that was completely the opposite. "Bah, that movie was no good. Halloween cannot replace Christmas. It-"

Jack leaned in on his crook and whispered playfully, at the risk of the age old 'my holiday is more important than yours' argument starting, "I think mister Jack-o-Lantern would disagree."

North, along with Bunnymund, rolled his eyes; while Tooth only shook her head at them as she listened to what Jack thought was a progress report from Baby Tooth. After a moment she nodded and smiled slightly, so he supposed it was good news.

Arthur looked a little puzzled, and before jack could try and explain he noticed Sandy hopping, trying to get their attention. The winter spirit immediately blinked and turned towards the older guardian, nodding to tell him to go on. When he noticed north was still going on about how great Christmas was he elbowed him lightly with his crook, effectively shutting him up. Sandy smiled a bit at that before he formed an arrow and directed it so that it was pointing to the twins on the couch. He motioned towards jack and then back to the two before he pointed the arrow at the rest of the guardians and motioned towards Arthur. For a moment, Jack wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that (after all, he wasn't about to be excluded again) but Sandy only smiled and shrugged, as if he were saying, 'Those two could use a little fun.'

The winter spirit glanced at them and, seeing their expressions, nodded in agreement. They could use a bit of something to do and he would be glad to give it. He looked up at North to make sure and the man nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. With a smile and another nod jack made his way to the twins.

"Hey," he greeted, gaining their attention. He smiled at them and noticed how similar and how different they looked from when he had seen them as a child. He also noticed how they were tuned in to what was going on behind him. It was true that it was easier to think about fun things than serious things, but this would be a bit harder to divert. "You guys look like you could use a little fun. How's a snowball fight sound?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, but met his eyes, seeing as the other guardians had yet to breach the topic they were waiting to hear about. Alfred made a face. "But aren't they going to talk about..?"

Jack nodded, leaning against his crook. "Yeah," He answered, "But they should have some real answers by the time we're finished." He leaned forward, his smile slipping into a more serious expression. Truth be told, he was concerned about them and, even if he didn't know exactly how long this had been going on, he knew they could use some time out of the house. "They're going to be talking about things that are way past our time, anyway."

The older twin nodded, though he still looked unsure. Jack didn't blame him. He just wanted answers and the guardian had spent practically all of his immortal life seeking those. Alfred, on the other hand, still looked like he was having trouble holding on to the conversation. Jack slowly smiled at them and stood straighter, saying offhandedly, "Besides, you wouldn't want to miss a snowball fight with Jack Frost."

Matthew's eyes widened almost immediately and jack was not disappointed to see excitement in them. He knew Canada loved snow because… well… it was Canada. And Matthew was no different. His expression mellowed a tad a moment later though as he turned to his brother, as if to ask if it was alright.

Alfred nodded slowly in agreement and managed a smile. "Yeah, let's have a snowball war." He looked up at the spirit of winter. "I bet you can make awesome snow forts."

Jack laughed and nodded, thinking of the many forts he had built for himself before he had become a guardian and those he was made with kids. "Oh, you have no idea."

The two smiled, their problems seemingly falling to the back of their minds. That was what fun did; it made things simpler, made the worst of things seem small and the best of things gigantic and in reach. As shown when they had defeated Pitch, it could do the impossible.

While jack, seeing that they were in agreement, went for the door, Alfred called, "hey, uh, we kind of need coats, dude. Wait a sec."

The guardian nodded and let them stand and make their way to grab their coats, but, with a smirk, he agreed, "Okay, I'll wait a second." The two seemed to know what he was going to do and looked up, wide eyed. He grinned and opened the door, the wind blowing inside ot greet him. "Okay, its been a second. I'd hurry before all the snow is mine!" With that, he jumped into the wind and quickly shut the door, hovering above the walkway and into the snow covered yard. The winter spirit laughed and let the wind set him down. in seconds there were large amounts of perfectly packed snowballs all over, as he assumed it would be a free for all as soon as they got outside.

After a couple of seconds he heard the door open and close, and turned only to duck a moment later at the snowball heading straight towards him. He looked up to see that Matthew had been the one to throw, the nation now smiling and another snowball already in his hand. He threw it up in the air and caught it again, Alfred behind him trying to make his own snowball. "Next time, I wouldn't have your back turned."

As soon as he had said it, Alfred disappeared from behind him. And by disappear he meant… disappeared. Completely. Jack's icy blue eyes widened, thinking he something terrible had happened, but Matthew's smile only shifted into a smirk. The spirit raised an eyebrow and looked around, but before he could even begin to get into the wind he felt the familiar 'whack' of snow against his head, though this time it was a stronger throw than anything a child had ever hit him with. A burst of white cascaded from around his head and little snowflakes fell around his face. He turned to see Alfred laughing his head off, staggering to the side.

"Worth it…" He muttered, shaking his head to try to clear the dizziness away, "So worth it."

He smiled, though he was a bit confused, when he heard a snowball coming in from behind. Immediately he swiped the snow with his crook and sent a hastily made snowball in the other direction, ducking just as quickly. He heard a plop in front of him, signaling that Matthew's snowball had nailed Alfred, and the American was only laughing more because of it.

Jack quickly packed another snowball while Matthew was making his own, though the winter spirit finished it quicker. He had just enough time to add a bit of his magic into it before a snowball sailed for his head. "Quick," He called, actually impressed, "but not quick enough!" He took a few running steps away and sent his own ammo, which nailed the nation on the side of his face. For a moment he watched as the smile grew into a grin and Matthew was laughing as he tried to grab one of the Jack's premade snowballs. The winter spirit smiled widely as Matthew called to his brother, saying, "Al, get up, i-its fort time."

He turned to see Alfred slowly trying to do so, calling back, "Okay, just a sec..!" seeing as it looked like the American hadn't had sleep in days his muscles were obviously trying to work on what little energy they could find. Jack looked up and nodded to the wind, who kindly pushed Alfred to his feet. For a moment the nation looked around and in that moment jack sent a snowflake his way (he didn't think a snowball to the face would do as well). It landed in between Alfred's eyes near his temples and the same magic went to work. Moments later he was laughing and rushing towards his brother to help create some fort to aid in stopping the upcoming assault.

Jack grinned and went to work making a rather basic fort. He didn't like play unfair, and making a heaping castle wall as a fort would definitely suffice as unfair. Still, he added his own touches, making it look similar to an igloo without a top. He even added a frozen lantern on the side, swinging back and forth in the wind. He turned to see that the twins were still working on theirs, though they had a good sized wall already made.

It seemed that Alfred had a great deal of strength that he was too tired to regulate because he couldn't really pat the wall without it trying to tumble down. Jack had to laugh at the attempt and swung his crook, making the wall sturdier and a bit castle like.

"Aw, no fair." The American called.

"I was helping you!"

The two laughed again and when he next turned Matthew was only a few feet away from him. He ducked and ran behind his shelter. "Whoa," He muttered, grabbing another snowball and skillfully pitching it over the side, "how did you do that?" He always heard feet crunching in the snow.

Matthew laughed lightly and shrugged, taking a snowball that Alfred sent his way. Slowly, his face melted into a more serious expression. "Well, I think it's obvious, Jack."

The guardian peeked over the wall, his eyebrows furrowing.

The Canadian said, with a completely straight face, "I'm a ninja."

There was a moment of silence before all three of them burst into laughter and it rapidly escalated into a free for all.

The door shut fairly quickly as the twins rushed outside, Alfred trailing just a tad behind his brother. Arthur managed a small smile at that before it fell just as suddenly and he turned to the other guardians. "You said Pitch Black. I know that name…" It was somewhere in his head, scratching, trying to be set free. It kept whispering, 'the nightmare king, the nightmare king…' For a moment his teeth were set on edge before he asked, "What is he?"

The figures glanced at each other and he was afraid that he had asked the question the wrong way, but they only frowned and the tall rabbit- he thought he had seen a species like that before in one of his oldest books… a Pooka, wasn't it?- answered with no small amount of hate, "The boogeyman."

He nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. The boogeyman, the nightmare king… What did those have to do with each other? What did they have to do with him? He could feel memories tugging as he tried to search through the many centuries he had been alive. Some of them were very, very sharp and he found himself trying to skip over the wars and their entirety completely. Thankfully, he sensed what he was looking for was deeper than that.

Still, he noticed their eyes on him and he glanced up. "Sorry, just give me a moment. He's in here somewhere…"

The tooth fairy nodded immediately in understanding, though she added, a caring tone in her voice, "He was most prominent in the dark ages. I would look there."

Oh… the dark ages. Or, rather, the Middle ages. He had been young in the beginning of those times, so his memories were a bit blurred up to a point. He thought he remembered seeing something there, some dark creature, but it was too hazy to tell. In the bits he could remember a younger and still annoying Francis he could sense more if it, its power growing the older he and the other European nations became. There was a lot that happened in between that and what he really considered to be the dark ages, but he didn't recall anything too worrisome.

He still sifted a bit through it, but came out with nothing. Then, reluctantly… he found the true darkness of the Middle Ages; the Black Plague. His memories during the beginning were clearer than most, seeing as he was an island country. He remembered that, though he had tried to remain ignorant, he had been worried-terrified actually- of what would happened if and when the disease had reached his land, what it would do to his people. He could seem to recall it being like a shadow was creeping over the land.

And then it all became like a gigantic mud puddle. There was death and sickness and darkness and fear… Not to mention the meaningless blame that rose from trying to make sense out of a disaster. He could only remember a handful of things of those years, none of which were very coherent. Afterwards, when the population had risen and stabilized, he could recall a few nightmares, especially in the relapses of the sickness. Arthur could remember a voice from somewhere that said, "I'm not leaving yet."

He shuddered involuntarily and shook his head, trying to push that away. That settled… he thought he had heard the term 'the nightmare king' from whispers of the Fae and other magical beings.

"Arthur?"

Said man's emerald eyes flicked upwards to meet the Tooth Fairy's. She looked concerned, though he found himself a bit curious as to why. He shook his head a little once more, pushing the memories away into their crevice. "I'm alright, there's just a bit in here." After a deep breath, he continued. "I remember him. Grant it, most of it is blurry, but…" He trailed off, remembering what he had caught from their conversation earlier. "He rose up three years ago, I believe. That was what you were talking about."

They looked relieved that he knew about it and a few of them nodded. He looked to the Sandman, who had formed a question mark above his head. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but the Easter bunny clarified.

"How did you know about it?"

Arthur shrugged slightly, looking over his shoulder at the Fae's who were chatting with the little mini tooth fairy. "Through my friends, I suppose." He frowned, recalling that day. "I never heard it directly so much as through whispers. The loss in belief… it didn't only effect you, if effected them as well." It had been frightening. Some of the Fae could no longer fly, his unicorn had stopped visiting… a few of his friends had looked all but transparent. One day he found a few had disappeared, only to reappear stronger after all was said and done. "And let me tell you I do not want that to happen again."

The figures nodded and he glanced at Father Christmas, who clapped his hands together. "Right, you are probably wondering about our visit." He wasted no time in getting to the point. "We think that Pitch is rising again."

Well that was what Jack had meant by a nightmare attack… Emerald eyes narrowing, Arthur frowned deeply. "So soon?"

"Yes. We don't know how, and I really don't know how much his powers have regenerated, but…"

The Englishman nodded, the other… he wasn't sure what they called themselves. The others watched him, awaiting his answer. "It would seem so…" Not that he wanted to believe it. No one needed a new dark age. He didn't even want to begin to think about what fear would bring in its wake these days, especially with modern weapons… He supposed he could only hope that the boogeyman stuck with effecting children as he had last time. Still not ideal, but… He pushed the thought away for now and continued explaining. "I felt a presence at my house similar to what I remember. Matthew said that he heard footsteps in his house as well. And Alfred…" He sighed, knowing that the mention of the lad was all that was needed. They nodded and the rabbit- Arthur paused.

Immediately, the Sandman seemed to understand what he was thinking. The little man hopped up, a golden cloud of sand forming beneath his feet, and pointed to himself. Instead of a picture, this time he was greeted with a word. 'Sandy.' He pointed to the others and went in order. 'Bunny- or Bunnymund, Tooth, North, and,' For the missing place of the one that was outside with his boys he wrote, 'Jack.'

Arthur nodded and North added, a proud smile on his face, "We are the guardians."

Hmm… guardians. That seemed appropriate. Still, he found himself asking, "Of what?"

Tooth answered this time, her kaleidoscope wings humming lightly, "Memories." When he raised an eyebrow, she smiled. "In the teeth. My fairies and I protect them."

Oh… well, so much for his childhood memories. He still nodded, thinking of all the children in his land, and turned to North. The man grinned and said, "Wonder." Next, Bunnymund gave a slight smile. "Hope." They turned to the Sandman and he only looked at them, giving a light smirk. He shrugged as if to say, 'Take a guess.'

"Ah…" Arthur nodded, folding his arms over his chest. "Dreams." When the man nodded, he glanced out the windows by the front door, watching, a smile forming at the edge of his lips, as he saw Alfred and Matthew romping around like they were six year olds out in the snow. He saw the guardian in question running around with them, sometimes hovering above the ground or conjuring more snowballs. "And him?"

"He is fun." North answered, also turning to gaze out the window. For a moment he saw something in the man's blue eyes, something he thought he recognized from his own. He, along with the others, certainly cared for the younger spirit… After a moment of watching the carefree boys, as if they were in another world from their own, they turned back to him, their expressions once again serious.

"Right." Arthur agreed, nodding. "On to business."

He had already called Francis and, as frustrating and cut on time as it had been, the conversation had yielded results. Alfred wasn't the only one- besides himself- who was having nightmares; Matthew wasn't the only worried brother… He wasn't sure why the boogeyman was targeting who he was. Maybe there was no rhyme or reason; it was only a spur of the moment kind of plan. But there was something that told him otherwise…

He had many more nations to call and he was sure that he would find more than one with sleeping troubles. He was also sure he didn't have much time before someone arrived, whether it was Pitch or Lovino that got to them first.

Gilbert was really, really sure sometimes that no one had a brother that was as stubborn as his.

West liked to act tough and everything, which wasn't really a big deal. He got that from him, probably because he had always acted like nothing was wrong and he was some big unmovable empire. But right now… Ludwig really needed to cut the crap.

The nightmares were getting worse. The things that had slowly been dwindling since the country had been unified and the wall had fallen were now skyrocketing. He didn't think they had been this bad since… he hadn't even been here to see them when they had been this bad.

Ludwig had called him overprotective a few nights ago when he had kept checking to make sure he was okay, and maybe he had been a little bit… but now there was nothing 'over' about it. His brother was hardly calling him out on it now either. The stupid things had gone from somewhat vague to happening multiple times a night…

It had only been, what, two days since they had cancelled the meeting? Gott…

Gilbert had finally sat West down today after he had come home from the store to find his brother glaring at nothing and then proceeding to yell at it. That was what he was doing now, and Ludwig was being far from cooperative.

"West, what was it? You don't have to tell me exactly, but I need to know if it was a flashback or-"

Ludwig only answered, his voice low, "Neither." He didn't look up from the table and his arms were still crossed. He hadn't changed since he was little…

The older German bit back a sigh and nodded slowly. He kept his voice even when he agreed. "Okay… what was it then?" Across from him, his brother slumped slightly in his seat and made the face he always made when he didn't want to answer. "West… I will not think you're crazy." Still no answer. Now gilbert sighed. He flexed his fingers, staring down at the table for a moment before he tried to meet his brother's eyes again. "Remember when I got back from… behind the wall?"

Ludwig paused, his eyes finally blinking before they met the ruby ones staring back at them. He bit his lip before he nodded slightly and answered, "Yes…"

"And you remember how I acted?"

Again, West nodded. "Yes."

Gilbert leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He tested the waters a moment. "I wasn't here after the war, so…" Ludwig barely flinched, but he still let him finish his sentence. The older nation's expression softened just a little. "So I'm helping now."

Silence greeted the kitchen after that and his brother averted his eyes. Neither of them were the touchy feely kind of people, but… when it came to their wellbeing… they could manage. Still… mental wellbeing was both a touchier and a more comfortable subject once in because both of them had had their share of things going wrong up there.

Finally, when Gilbert thought he was going to have to come up with something else to say, Ludwig whispered, "Alright…" With a blink, gilbert nodded, telling him to go when he was going to go. His brother was silent for a good while, his eyes trained on the table.

That gave gilbert a little time to think too. This could be a relapse… it hadn't been all that long, in nation terms, since the war had ended and… Well, it was still pretty raw. Some things could still trigger memories, others could bring nightmares crashing down. West had seemed fine a couple of days ago, but that didn't mean something hadn't happened.

"There was a voice…"

The older German blinked and looked up once more. Ludwig bit his lip, his hands curling into light fists. He glanced up just a moment to see if he had been heard and that it was alright for him to go on. When gilbert nodded, he slowly did.

"I thought… I don't know. It was… hard to describe." His eyebrows furrowed, his cerulean eyes narrowing.

Gilbert questioned offhandedly, "Have you heard it before?"

Ludwig paused for a few moments and opened his mouth. When no sound same out, he shrugged a little. "I… think so. Somewhere… Maybe in a nightmare, I don't know."

Gilbert could tell that West was getting frustrated. He wasn't sure exactly what tipped him off; the tightness of his voice, his body language, something, but it was clear. "It's okay if you don't know west…" There was something in his brother's face that said he should have. He continued, "What did it sound like?"

When Ludwig was silent and the only thing he was greeted with was a shudder, Gilbert's expression softened. "West…"

His brother's teeth set and his eyes flicked up. He managed, his voice tight, "It sounded like everything."

At the information, Gilbert's eyes narrowed, though he did little else. He nodded slowly. "Okay…" He wasn't sure what 'everything' entailed, but he needed to find out. Yet, he waited for Ludwig to continue. And, slowly, his brother's posture changed. He slumped further against the table and shut his eyes, one hand meeting his forehead to rub his temple. He explained, his voice full of an anger that Gilbert was used to, but didn't like to hear. "It was like everything that ever went wrong in that war… it was different people, it was him, it was the people that I slaughtered…" His voice did more than crack; it chocked.

Gilbert's heart sank and he grabbed a hold of his brother's wrist, rubbing it with his thumb. "West…" He had said the next thing so many times, but he found it always needed to be reminded. "It wasn't your fault, bruder."

Ludwig gritted his teeth again, but said nothing else, his breathing labored. The older brother only waited and took the hint, only saying something when it was necessary, and when he did speak it was only to assure that it was alright; that they could not control what their people did or had done.

That was a hard truth as a nation and it was one that Ludwig was still trying to accept.

Eventually, though, his brother calmed down. His breathing slowly retook its usual rhythm and he relaxed a bit, nodding in his direction. "Danke, bruder…"

Gilbert gave his usual smile and nodded. "Anytime." After a moment he looked around, debating on if he should make something to eat or not, when suddenly… He jumped ever so slightly as the phone rang, it's annoying high pitched voice screaming like some old mother in law, 'Answer me!' He sighed and met Ludwig's eyes. His brother nodded, saying he was okay, and Gilbert walked to the living room. At the third ring he had the phone in hand and clicked the answer button.

"Hallo?"

"Hello, Gilbert." Arthur sounded just as irritated as the phone had, so the internal mother in law quip hadn't been far off. "Look, I'm sorry to call so late, but I need to ask something."

That was odd…His eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded nonetheless. "Alright… go for it."

"Has there been anything unusual happening lately? Have you or Ludwig had any…"

While Arthur trailed off, sounding unsure as of how to ask that question, Gilbert felt his stomach drop. He wasn't even sure why or how Arthur would know about this… it wasn't like he told his drinking buddy this crap. "…nightmares?"

There was a crinkle of static through the phone line. "Yes. How many have-"

"Shitloads. Not me, but Ludwig." If West was in trouble than- "Why? What's going on? West said there was some kind of voice and it- " He didn't know why he was actually believing that there was some weird supernatural thing going on, or why he was saying this, especially since Ludwig had only just told him it and he was sure there was some brotherly privacy policy… But-

"Oh God- okay, has there been anything else? At all. Even if it doesn't seem very strange."

"Um…" He racked his brain, thinking of anything besides the nightmares and Ludwig's voice thing that had been out of the ordinary. He took a few steps in another direction, pacing as much as the he could. "I- I mean, no, I don't think there's been anything. Besides that it's been pretty much norm-…" He turned and what he saw made him freeze. "Agh!"

He could hear Arthur's voice from the speaker despite the fact that it was tumbling towards the floor. "Gilbert?! What is it?"

His voice seemed to break him out of his stillness and he frantically tried to grab the phone, his eyes still glued to the window, his heart thumping against his chest like it wanted out. "I-it-" All the while he heard Ludwig call from the kitchen and his brother's footsteps rushing into the living room.

By the time the footsteps got to him, Gilbert was trying not to cough up anything. A hand rested on his shoulder and his brother stepped forward, staring along with him at the Russian currently outside their window in inches of snow. The older German brought the phone to his ear and managed, "It's Ivan…"

The Russian smiled his terrifying smile at him from outside, knocking his spigot on the window. He read his lips as he asked, "Can I come inside?"

Arthur was spluttering on the other end. "Ivan? What is Ivan doing in-"

Gilbert answered, his voice a bit too high, "I don't know..! But he looks like he wants to murder me!"

In front of him, Ludwig sighed. "He always looks like that, bruder…" While Gilbert chocked out, "Not helping," he noticed that his brother was glaring at said man. "I have to let him in so he doesn't freeze, but I am not going to let anything happen." The part of his brother that had clearly been terrified was now pushed back into a corner. "Can I see the phone?"

He numbly went through with the request and Ludwig brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello..? …no, everything is alright. I think. Ivan is outside of our house for some reason. …well- …okay, what were you calling about? I really don't need to keep him waiting." There was a pause and he saw a flash of fear in his brother's eyes again. "…really..? Oh… well… um… …. Yes. i think we can do that, once we find out what Ivan wants. …okay. …okay I will. Danke." He took the phone from his ear and glanced at gilbert. "Would you like to keep discussing this with my bruder?"

There was a pause and he hoped that Arthur had already checked with other nations because he really, really wanted to have an excuse to go to his room and pretend that Ivan wasn't here. When Ludwig nodded and handed the phone to him he released a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Hi Arthur. So, can you explain this? That would be great." He didn't care if he didn't sound very attentive because his eyes were still trained on Ludwig as he walked towards the door. "Uh…"

"I can, but I still have other calls to make."

That sounded really cold right now. "Okay, but please just wait until he le-" The door opened and he could see ivan on the other side, spine shattering smile and all. He could hear a voice in his head and vaguely he wondered if it was the one Ludwig had told him about.

'He's going to get you,' It whispered, cold as ice, 'he's going to take you back with him. Your brother is going to let it happen. He's going to make it happen.'

That sent a jolt of terror through every atom in Gilbert's body. He shook his head, trying to argue, "No-no he won't…"

'Oh, but he will. And after that he will never come back. You will be all alone. And guess what? No one will care. No one at all. You won't even be a speck on a map.'

He couldn't see straight, couldn't breathe. "No I won't, no I won't…"

'What will happen to you after he takes you I wonder? What will he do?' Oh, gott, no… 'And if you make him angry… oh, Gilbert, imagine that.'

He wanted to scream but his voice wouldn't work. He wasn't sure if he was still standing or sitting or if he was just going to disappear already or-

"Gilbert! For God's sake, listen to me you bloody idiot!"

The ex-nation blinked, his head spinning, and he heard tufts of air that seemed to be happening when he was breathing. But that couldn't be. "I- I- s-s- sorry… I-…"

When the voice that he blearily recognized as Arthur spoke again, it was softer. "It's alright. It's all alright… Just go to your room and explain what happened if you can. Please."

There was a little air back in his lungs again. His thoughts weren't spinning as much. Okay… okay, go to his room. Yeah, he could do that. Slowly, gilbert nodded. "O-okay… t-t-thanks…" He turned, knowing better then to look and see if Ludwig or Ivan had seen what had happened, and rushed down the stairs. He could feel memories rushing back, or trying to, and he shut the door. For a moment he thought about locking it, but then a voice in his head said, 'you won't be able to get out' and he quickly thought against it.

Moments later he had placed himself on the bed, one of the dogs next to him, and cradled the phone next to his ear. "Okay…" He breathed, "In my room..."

"Okay… what happened, Gilbert?" Arthur was actually concerned. He must have really freaked out…

He took a slow, deep breath, and murmured, "There was a voice… I think it was the- the one that west talked about… it… oh gott…" He shuddered. It was terrifying.

"Alright. I told Ludwig to have the both of you come here after your situation is settled. Can you do that?"

It felt odd to him that Arthur was asking, but it helped. He supposed the time he could now recall of him freaking out while they were drinking had something to do with it. "Yeah… yeah I can do that."

"Dude, that was awesome…"

"I know… Jack, we have to do that again sometime."

"Yeah, how about… I don't know. How's tomorrow sound?"

They laughed lightly and Matthew managed to keep Alfred from falling over, despite his brother's assurances that he was fine and he could walk by himself. Both personification and guardian knew that Alfred had expended a lot of energy and he was exhausted, especially since he had refused to sit and watch when they had realized the snow had to be cleaned off the roof before it caved.

Matthew plopped Alfred down on the couch, scanning the room for the other guardians or Arthur. When he rather found nothing, he paused. "Where are they?"

Next to him, jack shrugged, glancing up the stairs. "I don't know. Sandy might have had to outside somewhere to spread his dreams and Tooth…" Odd, he thought she had set up for the mini fairies to handle it. "She might have had to go back to the Tooth Palace to check on everything."

"Oh." Matthew waited in silence a few moments before his eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head to the spirit. "There's a tooth palace?"

Jack nodded, smiling widely at the memory of it. "Yeah, it's a great place. She keeps all of the kids baby teeth there and watches over them." Though the part about teeth would have normally confused a person, Matthew only nodded again.

"Okay… wait… even ours?"

At that, Jack fell silent. "Uh…" He thought back to the different rooms he had seen at the Tooth Palace on his first visit and those thereafter, but he really… didn't know. "Do you guys lose teeth?"

Matthew nodded, as if it were obvious. "Yeah. It just takes us a lot longer to lose all of them." He paused and turned to Alfred, who was starting to nod off, and nudged him. The American blinked a few times and shook his head.

"'m up… 'm up, mister maple."

Jack snorted and leaned against his crook, repeating, "Mister maple… That's my new nickname for you."

The Canadian rolled his eyes, elbowing how brother who in turn elbowed him back. "I prefer the True North, thank you very much."

The winter spirit smiled, though he did notice that Matthew acted a bit differently when he was just around Alfred than when he was with Arthur and the other guardians. There he was more reserved, quieter, observant… now it was as if he could speak a little more freely.

The conversation would have gone on, but Sandy took that moment to enter the room. He smiled at them and glanced towards Alfred, asking without the use of his sand if he could knock him out. Jack and Matthew shook their heads, the guardian saying, "Not yet," as they still had an explanation to hear. When it was made clear, however, that the other guardians were busy at the moment and that Arthur was still talking on the phone, Matthew's eyes widened and he turned to the golden man.

"Hey… can I ask you something?"

Sandy nodded immediately, hovering closer to the Canadian on his dream sand cloud. Matthew, however, stood and walked to the fort still standing tall at the center of the living room and crawled inside.

Alfred sat up, his eyebrow's furrowing. "What are you doing, bro?"

"Just a sec…" There was a bit of shuffling and a movement of a few of the blankets, but moments later Matthew crawled back out, a dream catcher in hand. Jack scrutinized it a moment as it was held out to the sandman, the light making the web seem as if it were glistening. Was that..?

Sandy took the dream catcher and turned it over, his eyes immediately moving across the web. He ran a finger over one of the strings, which nearly glowed gold in the process.

Matthew blinked and murmured, "Wait…" He leaned down and looked the item over, his eyes narrowing. "I don't understand… the sand was… it was black before."

At that, Sandy's, and jack's, eyes widened exponentially. He turned to the nation and pointed to the web. Matthew nodded in confirmation, still staring at the web as if it would tell him what happened. Sandy quickly got his attention and formed a picture above his head, though it was more like a scene. It showed a black nightmare horse- though it was gold because of Sandy- going toward some unknown sleeping form. Above the form was a dream catcher. The horse tried to sneak into the dream sand that was already above the forms head, but it got caught in the web. In the scene, the sun began to rise and as soon as the golden beams struck the dream catcher, the sand stuck in it glowed a bright gold. While Matthew and Alfred both had mirrored expressions of awe, Sandy pointed to the dream catcher, sending Matthew a praising look.

Wow… Jack remembered the tale about dream catchers; that the good dreams would flow through the web and that the bad ones were too clumsy and bulky and would become entangled. Only now as a spirit did he realize how true it was.

As Sandy handed back the dream catcher, he turned towards Alfred again, who was trying not to fall asleep. Matthew's expression softened, but he still shook his head. "As soon as Arthur explains."

The oldest guardian nodded in understanding and quiet footsteps began to descend down the stairs. They all looked to see a rather disgruntled Englishman, who nodded towards them. "Let's get this over with…"

It was dark. That's what it all seemed to start with, what everything did. Darkness… Maybe that was what it all ended with too.

And then it wasn't so dark anymore. Everything was blurry and… well, it was a little too bright actually, and he could hear something. What he heard, whatever sounds bounced in one ear and cerated out of the other, were probably words. he tried to tell himself that they may have been in another language, but every so often one understandable word would break through the haze. It was never the same one and he could never make sense of it, but for a moment he seemed to be able to tell just what it was. Then in the next moment… it vanished, replaced by another jumble.

The words were sometimes distinct and sharp, sometimes garbled beyond comprehension, but they were never spoken by the same voice.

Shapes were moving in and out around him, blurs of various colors, but he could never tell just who or what they were. He couldn't tell where he was either for that matter. It didn't seem very important to him. It didn't feel wrong to be wherever he was.

At the very most he was curious. At the least he was content to watch whatever was going on around him.

And then, suddenly, everything snapped into focus. Something was placed carefully on the bridge of his nose, and everything became… undeniably clear. The noises changed from unknown words to voices; somehow familiar voices. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake his head into clarity, and tried to shift his eyes around. Despite being able to see forms he couldn't tell what they were at all. His head was pounding too loudly for that. Just where was he?

Someone was shaking his shoulder as if they were trying to rouse him from the bottom of a pit. He blinked several times, his head spinning and spinning, and turned to look. The process hurt, much more than he would have expected, and when he accomplished it emerald orbs stared urgently into his. Their owner's voice filled his ears a moment later, both relieved and worried and… panicking.

"Oh, thank god… I didn't know he could throw you like that. You've got to get up, lad!"

His eyebrows furrowed and he became aware of something underneath him, something hard and really, really uncomfortable. Was he… on the floor? Why was he on the floor? And what was arthur…You know what? That didn't really matter… The floor was still kind of soft. He could lie down or… something…

His body suddenly jolted in another direction and a groan ripped past his lips. "Agh-" He didn't have time to give a piece of his mind to whoever- oh, right… it was Arthur- had shoved him before he found himself being sloppily lifted off of the ground. His head panged, reverberated with pain actually, as he tried to go against his lowering eyelids and assist them. Arthur was indeed in front of him, but he didn't look right... It may have been his head, but… he had scrapes on his face, one of which that was bleeding heavily, and his clothes were a complete and utter mess. The guy never came to a meeti- oh, was that where he was? Why was he in a meeting room? Why didn't he remember getting here? He tried to look around again, but Arthur grabbed his chin and kept him facing towards him, causing the American to wince in process. …why did his head hurt so much?

Wait…didn't Arthur say someone had thrown him?

There were shuffling, muffled footsteps around him. More voices were shouting, ones he managed to put faces to. Yao, Ivan, Francis, Gilbert… why were they all shouting? At the loud popping sound that berated his eardrums he almost cried out. Was someone shooting off fireworks?

Though he tried to pass it off as one of Gil's pranks, especially because he was sure he had the headache of the century and… and he was really tired again, Arthur shook him once more. He almost yelled this time. "Whaaat..?" He managed, his voice somewhere between a loud groan and a whine. "What d'you want, Artie?"

The Englishman tugged him into a sitting position and his hand flew to grip his head, which felt like it had just been hit with a baseball bat. A metal baseball bat. Arthur apologized under his breath, but he made no move to stop his hurrying or slowdown in the slightest. Instead he stood and quickly pulled him up to his knees, making the world and his stomach sway in several directions he was sure weren't natural.

"Get up, get up! I know he gave you a good hit, Alfred, but you have to help!"

His stomach churned, his breathing ragged, as he clumsily set his hands on the ground to try and steady himself. "What…" He glanced at Arthur, trying to will every loud noise around him to shut the hell up. "What're you talking about…?"

Arthur, for whatever reason, looked severely alarmed. "You- oh bloody hell he got you worse than I thought. Matthew, you git, h-" He stopped suddenly and his eyes seemed to find something behind him before they widened, he quickly latched onto his arm, and tugged him forward. He didn't apologize this time and only cried, "Come on, lad, get up! We need to move!"

"Agh..!" He gritted his teeth together, one hand still gripping the side of his head as if that would make the horrible pounding stop. Did he have a concussion..? Arthur hastily yanked him onto his feet, causing him to grip the man's forearm so tightly it was a surprise he didn't let go completely. Blearily, he tried to think. "…what… Matthew? What about Matthew?" He vaguely recognized the sounds as something bad now, something threatening. "…is he okay..?"

Arthur looked at him like his head had suddenly burst into flames. "No, no he is bloody well not okay, Alfred, he- LOOK OUT!"

The shout caused him to buckle over, his ears ringing, and whatever instincts he had were screaming at him to dive under the conference table. He could only feel a slight breeze as something supposedly swung over his head and Arthur cried out and fell backwards onto the ground, clutching one side of his face. His brain tried to figure out what was happening, what they were all saying, but nothing would process... until finally, a second or two later, he turned to see where the blow had come from.

When he was met with empty purple eyes and blood stains on the carpet his head felt like it was going to explode. He stumbled backwards, one hand gripping the table for support and the other grabbing a hold of Arthur's wrist and dragging him along out of pure impulse. His heart felt like it was about ready to jump out of his chest. "M-m-matt?! W-what- why-"

Matthew only smiled at him, his stance tense but somehow loose at the same time. His smile didn't take its usual form. It wasn't modest or playful, not even teasing. This one was pure madness, a cruel twinge in the way it spiraled upwards. His twin's clothes were ripped in parts, even singed in a few places. Several cuts and bruises littered his arms and legs, but part of him doubted that the blood there was actually his. The American recognized the hockey stick held unwavering in his grip. Matt laughed loudly, the smile on his face widening. With a chill, he realized it reminded him of the Joker. "H-hey Alfie! Havin' fun?"

His eyebrow's furrowed and he tried to remember how to breathe. "Matt, what's… what's going on..?" he glanced frantically around the room, noticing more blood stains and several unmoving bodies on the floor. He felt like he was going to pass out as his head slowly shifted back, the familiar tug of his consciousness wanting to wave and say 'Time out!', his eyes staring into his twins. "…Matt..?" He whispered, almost like he was trying to get some reassuring note in response. That was what he needed; matt telling him it was going to be okay. This had to be some kind of joke… like April Fools or something, even if he was sure it was nowhere near April.

For a split second he realized something odd…very, very odd. He couldn't hear Matthew in his head. At all. His stared a moment, before everything became insatiably loud. He could hear his twins thoughts and they... oh god they were not good. …What was going on..?

Matthew's smile, if possible, widened even further. The crazy glint in his eyes kept growing like a shadow splaying across his iris. "Oh, you've forgotten now too, huh? Have you?" He cackled, actually cackled, not once moving his weapon, staring at him, his eyes wide. "About time! I mean, god, I was wondering how long it would take!"

His mouth opened and closed again and again, but nothing came out. "I-i-wh-" Arthur was still unmoving in his grip. He was probably unconscious, but he made no move to look, afraid of what would happen if he broke the fragile eye contact. He knew somehow that if he did it would be like shattering broken glass. "M-"

His twins laughter made a sharp chill run through his body, but when it faded… Matthew's expression shifted, becoming rueful and sarcastic. He still laughed, but… "Too stupid to figure it out, huh, you bastard? Look. Look at what you did to me." His amethyst eyes narrowed , glaring in a way that would have killed any man. "You never remembered me, Al! You're no better than them!" He pointed to the side and this time he got a good look. Yao and Francis were sprawled out on the ground, the former with a viciously bleeding gash on his forehead. Francis seemed marginally unharmed, but… his body was at such an odd angle, like he was trying to do an unconscious contortionist act. He didn't see gilbert anywhere and he was too afraid to consider the possibilities. And Ivan… The Russian was currently trying to push himself off the plaster wall, using his spigot for a shaky support, but it looked like he was failing miserably.

For the first time since… he didn't remember when he had last seen Ivan look that vulnerable, but the man's body was racked with tremors. For the briefest moment his eyes, the same amethyst color as his brother's, met his and… they told him to run. Ivan was actually urging him to…

He didn't understand. "but- but i…" his eyes stung with fresh tears, the sides of his chest stung and pounded every time he tried to take in a damned breath. He met Matthew's eyes again, trying to keep his voice steady; like he was trying to talk someone down from a ledge. "I always remembered you, Mattie… I never forgot."

Matthew chuckled softly, swinging his hockey stick absentmindedly, the shifting smile returning. "Yeah… right." His eyes flicked up from the floor, meeting his with an icy resolve. Despite that, his smile melted into a vicious snarl. "You never cared about me. Not once." His nostrils flared a moment, his voice a deadly calm. "Not once did you tell them I was here, not once did you stand up for me." He stopped, having been taking several small steps towards the other nations. He pointed his newly deemed weapon at the others of their kind. "Not once, when Ivan over there sat on me, did you tell him to get the hell off." He could see so much contempt, so much hate, so much bubbling anger in his twins eyes, but there was also no more restraint. The worst kind of chains had been unshackled and with their absence… there was no more sanity. His brother asked, his tone edging into something patronizing, "And do know why you never did any of that, Alfie?"

He tried to force his mouth to unhinge. In his haste he brought his free hand to his face, wiping the moisture from his eyes, and in the second he lost eye contact he noticed the pistol attached firmly to Matthew's belt. A flurry of thoughts entered his mind so quickly he could barely recognize them before, in an instant, Matthew was suddenly not five inches in front of his face. His twin grabbed him roughly by the collar, holding it so tight in his fist he was cutting off most- if not all- of his airway. Despite the fact that, after a few seconds, he felt his windpipe was being crushed, and he thought he would keel over due to the sheer velocity his head was spinning, Alfred managed a few bleak words. "N-no i… I don't know, Mattie…" His hand that had been gripping the table for dear life finally relinquished its grip and moments later he found it atop of one of his brother's. He knew it was partially to get himself free, to return the oxygen that had been stolen so readily from his lungs, but it was also because he knew somewhere on the roller coaster of a concussion he was now riding that he had to get through to his brother. There were no other options. He chocked, never shifting his eyes away, "I love you, bro… I- I do re-remember…"

He could hear thoughts whirring through Matthew's mind, bouncing in every direction across every emotion. So much… so much hate. He didn't think he had felt that since he had first been able to hear his twin's thoughts; since Arthur had ended one spell too many in error and had linked them. So much of hatred, and yet, somewhere in there… a tiny spark of confusion was lit, dim as it may be. That gave him hope. If he let go of Arthur maybe he could grab the gun…

…He wasn't even holding Arthur any longer. He assumed that the Brit had slipped through his fingers at some point during… he wasn't sure how long he had been hovering just above the ground, his lungs burning. It felt like an eternity. He should probably move… Jeez, his head was pounding… Shit… He tried to move his fingers an inch, to command them to grip his brother's fingers and push them away, to grip the gun and fling it into nonexistence. The scientific part of his brain was scrambling with formulas, telling him just how long he had until he lost consciousness. Great, he wanted to say, that helps so much. He had to get through to his brother, he had to do something. He was not about to have it end like this. He reached out a trembling hand…

And then Matthew, as suddenly as he had taken his air, gave it back. He relinquished his grip completely… and let go. He took a step back. For a moment, everything was silent. It was as if nothing had happened. And then his brother started to laugh. Soft, sporadic chuckles escaped as he backed further and further away from him. Soon enough he was in hysterics, his laughter echoing through the room.

Alfred watched, his stomach dropping as constantly as if he were sky diving, as he took solitary gasps of air. He tried to take a slow step forward, but Matthew recovered in a flash. He swiftly removed the gun from his belt and cocked it in his direction, smiling something like the old teasing smirk that would appear some nights, slowly wiping his eyes with the other hand. "Oh…" He muttered, his voice dripping with amusement, "That was rich…"

His head was spinning again, even without a hand squeezing his throat. His legs wobbled uncontrollably. The world was fading in and out now, but Matthew was, somehow, still morbidly clear. With labored breaths, he tried to focus, but his head was so heavy…

The sound of wood clattering against nonexistent carpet zigzagged through his eardrums. His head snapped up as he wobbled against the edge of the table, one hand resting at the very corner to keep his balance. His eyes(when had he shut them?) blinked open and the image that greeted him stole any breath he had regained.

Matthew had the gun cocked against his head, his other arm spread out wide as if to say, 'come and stop me!' The same arm fell a moment later and the amethyst eyes met his once more, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's rude to sleep when someone else is talking?" For a moment his voice fell in and out, softer and louder, and seemed laced with two tones, both of which made his vision tunnel far faster than he could imagine possible and the edges of his sight grow to the brink of darkness. Matthew spoke again, clear and concrete, "Goodbye, hero. Or… should I say liar?"

His vision funneled in and out, faster and faster, as his eyes and body grew heavier. He was aware that he was bending over, but his entire body was numb and blearily cold. He… he tried to take a step, but before the thought could even process his sense of hearing exploded and his head felt as if it had been shattered with a pick axe. His eyes slammed shut, trying to block out any and every external stimulus around him. Not just the feel but the sound of his teeth grinding against one another made him want to stab himself with some blunt instrument… and then he heard something crumple to the floor. It wasn't him. He was still, somehow, on two feet. His azure eyes slowly opened to greet the rest of the world… and the part that had removed itself in a splatter of blood as red as the leaf on its flag.

He… he couldn't take his eyes away. He- he couldn't… what…

Something ripped out of his throat. He couldn't hear what it was or come to decipher it, but it hurt. It hurt. Adrenaline fueled his movements before he could process them, before he could feel the salty tears running down his cheeks, and he was there in that splash of red.

He didn't… he didn't know what he was doing. He was… he was waiting. It felt like he was standing still, but he knew somewhere that his arms were moving, that he was checking vitals again and again and again. He knew his eyes kept flitting to the red, but he thought he was only staring at one person.

At one… at one body.

He was already on his knees but it felt as though they were giving out on him. A sharp beat raced through his veins and he wanted so, so desperately for it to be his brothers. But it wasn't…

"Matt..?"

He knew so many nations never heard his brother's wonderful voice. They had never heard the reassuring tone on nights tortured by the past and those too afraid to face the present, never heard the light in a nation that was so widely forgotten and overlooked when he should have been reveled in. They never heard him laugh or sing or speak a single word. …And, as only silence was spoken in return, he now realized that he was one of them.

He couldn't hear Matthew. Everything was silent... even the link they had shared by something as inseparable as magic had not a second of sound to be heard.

"Nations…" Was that his voice? He didn't even recognize it anymore. "Nations… can'tdie." He whispered it as if that would make it true, like it would make his twin open his eyes again. Alfred said again, "Nations can't die…" …Nothing happened.

He couldn't explain the panic that cut his breaths into fractions, the exhaustion that wanted to drive him into the ground and beyond. It felt like his legs were giving out over and over and over again and it just wouldn't stop. Bile rose in the back of his throat and his barely managed to move away, his hands trying in vain to support his weight. He swallowed the putrid mixture, but that didn't stop the lump in his throat from growing.

He sobbed because it was silent… it was so, so silent.

No one tried to help him. … No one tried to agree with him that their kind could not die in this way. …No one moved at all.

…It was all black, because that's how everything began and, in the end, that's what everything became, his vision included. The words fell from his lips one last time, broken and muffled.

"Nations can't d-die…"

The silence mocked him, along with the unmoving bodies of his friends, his family. Francis never stopped his act, Yao's cut never healed, Gilbert never reappeared, and Ivan never got up from where he had collapsed on the ground… Arthur never tried to shake him out of this nightmare. He was alone…

And his brother was right… He was such a lair.

"He's mine!"

Sandy thought he could tell immediately when someone was having a bad dream. It was fairly easy. He would feel a shift in his dream sand, a dark touch that embedded itself in the stream of gold.

But, as the universe had it, there were so many dreams out there; as many as there were people in the world. He tried his best to keep track of them all, to keep a constant watch over them as he had pledged so very long ago to do, but every now and again… one got the best of him. It slipped through his defenses so seamlessly that he realized only too late what was happening.

When it came to other guardians, other spirits, tracking and protecting a dream became more difficult. Their dreams were harder to locate, harder to sense underneath the haze of sleep. In the case of these nations… the task proved to be even more of a challenge. He already realized that these personifications had layers to them, even when not conscious. He knew that before he had met them in person because he had been sensing their dreams for centuries. In nations there were always present whispers to he hear, shifting and changing, whenever he managed to find them and use his beloved sand; their people's thoughts and voices. It was really a beautiful thing. They had so many hopes and dreams inside of them, so much potential. And somewhere below all of that lovely noise- a place unique to each of them- was their own consciousness, their being, their dreams.

He was having this trouble now, locating the others of their kind and trying to see if their flow of dreams was somehow disrupted. Suffice to say… when he realized in the middle of that process that Jack's newest friend was having the nightmare of his life in the same parameters as him … Sanderson knew this was beyond the chaotic spree of nightmares that usually occurred. This was personal and it most definitely had Pitch Black written all over it.

The question was… if it was so close, how had it slipped by him? How had it slipped by all of them?

To Sandy, that was a question to be dealt with after the unfortunate personification was sleeping peacefully again. He immediately pulled out of anything and everything he had been doing moments before and rushed to the room he knew the American to be supposedly resting in. The others were surprised by the suddenness, yes, but they realized what the cause of commotion was soon enough. When he reached the hallway, however, he wasn't sure if he was surprised or relieved to see the door was open.

Despite not having known the house or its inhabitants for long, he knew who was there.

Sandy had warmed up to Matthew very quickly. Their quietness had sort of… pushed them into the same section of the room. And now the nation had beaten the Guardian of Dreams to the nightmare, which was definitely not something to take lightly. He was about to enter when he heard hurried steps coming from further down the hall. He turned in time to see Arthur barreling down the hallway, though when the man saw him he slowed to a stop. His expression, which had previously been encompassed with worry and panic, shifted to the somewhat guarded one he was used to, but the franticness in his emerald eyes had yet to go out. Slowly, Sanderson formed a question mark over his head, all the while sending a glance into the room to assure Arthur that the two were alright.

Arthur caught his breath and shook his head. "I just… I know. They're alright…." There was something in his tone, something self-deprecating, that caused Sandy to raise an eyebrow. The Briton added under his breath, catching the guardian's eyes, "just thought I heard something is all."

Despite knowing he couldn't really speak, Sandy opened his mouth and something formed over his head, though he was hardly aware of what it was. He wanted to ask what the nation had been doing because, though he said he was going to try to rest, none of them had believed that he had stopped working. He wanted to ask what he had heard. He also really wanted to give Pitch a piece of his mind, especially because the man had dared to turn his dream sand into the kind of nightmare he sensed behind that door. Still, Arthur glanced into the room, sighing tiredly. "I'll fill you in later… right now I think we both are needed in there."

Without another word, Arthur stepped inside the room and Sandy followed, though he kept to the edge of the room for the time being and was prepared to give the three their privacy if need be before he used his dream sand.

The first thing he noticed upon entering was that there was still a bit of the nightmare left, clinging to the nation's consciousness. He frowned a bit at that, especially when he saw how distressed Alfred was. The young man's eyes were wide, red rimmed, and he could see a world of something more than terror inside of them. He could see heartbreak.

If he was in another room, sand would have blown out of his ears by now. He had already guessed as much; that Pitch was doing much worse than he ever could have to children with these personifications. He was taking their worst memories, their fears, their insecurities, their personal wishes, and twisting them into some… into a vivid and realistic nightmare. Sandy's golden eyes flicked up and he bid the rest of the nightmare good riddance, letting some of his dream sand whisk it away and transform it back into its original form without knocking the American into oblivion. He would do that afterwards…

Though he tried not to listen to their conversation, it was difficult not to, especially when he was only a few feet away.

Alfred was muttering, grabbing sloppily at his brother's shoulder, "Dead.. you- you're not dead… right? Y-you did-didn't…" For a moment he chocked, and Matthew quickly shook his head. It looked like whatever his twin hadn't been able to say he had finished elsewhere. For some reason, Matthew looked touched, like he hadn't thought that his brother would even begin to fear whatever he saw.

"No, Alfie… no, I didn't do that. It's okay… I'm okay. We're all okay."

The American shook his head, hardly trying to get rid of the tears rolling down his cheeks. "B-but you weren't…" His sky blue eyes turned to Arthur, who Sandy noticed looked every bit a father who was going to try to comfort his child. He knew the history between the two countries, knew they had had their ups and downs, but after it all… he sensed that was what they were.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed next to Matthew, glancing at the Canadian, and rested a hand on Alfred's should. "It's alright, lad… nothing is going to-…" The man's expression softened when the American kept shaking his head. "Alfred…"

"You were dead…" He whispered, "Everyone was dead… I caused it." He turned to his twin, choking on his words. "I-I am so, so s-sorry, Mattie- I-I d-didn't know a-and you…"

Matthew's amethyst eyes widened and he immediately leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders. "Hey... it's okay, it's okay. No one's- everyone's alive, Al. We're all okay." When Alfred turned his head to Arthur, who nodded slowly and assured the same, he relaxed a little.

"Okay…" He muttered, his shoulders slumping, his eyes already half lidded.

Sandy took that as his cue, though he gave them a few moments more, considering that this was probably a rare thing among the three. After those few moments were over, though, he walked over and formed a cloud beneath his feet, hovering at the bed's height. He formed a snowball sized sphere of dream sand and was about to use it when Alfred's eyes widened.

"Oh my god..!" He breathed, groaning, "I fucking remember now! Why the hell didn't I earlier..?" He couldn't see their confused expressions, but he slowly turned his head to Arthur, sounding a bit more alert. "You know when you told us about the boogeyman..? I –I remember a nightmare I had the other day…" He glanced at Matthew, his expression minutely shifting to something unreadable. "You know… that one." When his twin nodded slowly, he continued, meeting Arthur's eyes. "Well he was in it… before it switched to the other thing. His voice was." He paused, as if trying to make sure they understood that information. "He was you. He kept saying he wasn't going to come back, because… you know, I was a kid again… and because I was a kid again… I could remember things from a long time ago." He faltered a moment. "I remember I recognized his voice and…" He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. "I think he was in the house once. Or somewhere near it."

Arthur looked like someone had slapping him, while Matthew only nodded again. He muttered, "I think you told me about that… a long, long time ago."

The room was silent for a few moments and Sandy took his opportunity. He threw the glowing ball of sand at Alfred's head and he immediately went limp, his breathing evening out. Above his head, pleasant memories played out, though sometimes it switched to different things; a world that was happy, peaceful, and free; a group of nations smiling and laughing; a woman that Sandy had never seen with two little boys that looked remarkably like the twins.

As he said before... beautiful.

Matthew watched it, a small smile tugging at his lips, while Arthur seemed mesmerized even when he tried not to look. Sandy was about to tell them that they probably shouldn't be watching the American's personal dreams when the doorbell suddenly rang. Alfred didn't react, thankfully, but Matthew turned towards the doorway, his expression torn as he looked down at his brother.

Arthur patted the Canadian's shoulder, assuring, "I've got it, lad." He was about to stand when Matthew asked slowly,

"…It's Lovino, isn't it?"

The brit paused and nodded slowly, frowning slightly. "Yes…and Antonio, and the frog… and Feliciano." He added afterwards, "I think Gilbert and Ludwig are going to be here soon as well… and probably Tino."

Matthew nodded and gently laid Alfred on the bed, giving a smile and a nod in thanks to Sandy, and stood. "I think Lovino might react better to me than he will to you…" He paused. Though he was hardly hesitant, he still added, "If that's alright."

While Arthur opened his mouth to say something, he seemed to think against it. He seemed to know that Matthew was right… Sandy floated over, nodding to Arthur, who raised an eyebrow before he seemed to understand. He immediately started to protest. "I am not going to-"

Sanderson ignored him, however, and nodded towards Matthew, another dream sand ball forming in his hand as he motioned towards the door. The Canadian smiled slightly and nodded, leaving the room to greet who Sandy supposed would be a handful to calm down, much less explain the situation to.

AN: Okay... As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think. I apologize for any errors. I know I probably missed some. Um... headcanons, right.

1) Alfred and Matthew's telepathic link is due to magic. I think that Arthur would have been trying to get revenge on Francis for whatever reasons and a spell or two would have gone wrong. Along with that, little Alfred would have gotten curious and snuck down into the basement/wherever Arthur was casting spells and he would have messed with one of those same spells.

2) The general headcanon that Arthur and Gilbert are drinking buddies. I'm assuming Gil would have reacted badly to something while out drinking at least once, which is how Arthur knows how to react when Ivan shows up at their house.

3) One of my favorite groups is the Lonely Trio, so Matt, Gil, and Lovino(or at least Gil and Lovi) will be a little more familiar with each other. The three will also play a bigger part in the plot later on. :)

4) I read that the English used to burn their baby teeth, so Tooth would have very little, if any, of Arthur's baby teeth on hand.

And... oh, during the Plague years I think that the European nations would have been in various states of sickness, or incapacitation depending on how their population was effected. Like... to Arthur it was some big blur, but for someone like Feliks, who managed to keep the Plague away from his country, would be able to remember a lot more and would be mostly unaffected. To clear up any confusion with Sandy: he did know about the nations because, as he said, he has felt them and watched over them for a long time. At some point he probably would have gotten curious and gone to see what it was all about.

Okay... that's done. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. Thanks again for stopping by!