Thanks to SweetHoneyBee, Zaaze, Nordic-Fan, Kattie, Elizaveta Hedervary – Hungary, ToolboxHDR, ScandinavianTrash and an anon for reviewing.

Just to clarify: cold fever is the phrase translated directly from Afrikaans. It's differentiated from a regular fever since a regular fever makes you feel hot, while a cold fever makes you feel cold. What happens with a cold fever is that the body believes that its temperature is supposed to be high, for example 40 degrees Celsius. And often the temperature that the body believes it should be is higher than the fever's temperature, so you feel cold. It's also harder to sweat out this fever, since the body thinks it's supposed to be that hot, and trying to make yourself warmer would only worsen it. The only way to fix it is through medication. This is according to information on health24.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 10

A few hours later Vlad was lying in his own bed. The students had been sent home after a while. This was not what he had expected when he had started a new school. Things were just spiralling out of control.

Sure, he had expected some form of bullying. After all, what high school – actually, any school – was free from it? What he hadn't expected was the scale it would manifest in. He didn't think that it would result in vandalism of his home. He didn't think that rumours would spread of his involvement in the murders, which there simply was not.

Though, when he thought about Sadiq and that other boy, Carlos, he couldn't help but think that there was something wrong about it. He could feel a tug of memory, as though there was something that he had forgotten.

Remembering what happened with Allen's corpse two days ago, he bit his lip. There was a possibility that his memories had been altered again. But for what purpose?

He thought back to the two corpses, and he recalled that he could sense that something supernatural had been there, but it wasn't quite the same as with Allen. It was similar, yes, but different. And he could have sworn that he had sensed the lingering presence of more than one.

He wondered why it would alter their memories, and why it was going after their bullies.

Though now that he thought about it, he had heard of creatures that fed on predatory actions. And bullying could be considered that. There were also creatures that preferred to kill those very 'predators' in order to prove themselves stronger. And then there were creatures that hated seeing such actions, and that came to the defence of the 'prey'.

Regardless of its motives, Vlad would need to find out what it was, before more people were murdered. Perhaps next time, it could be an innocent.

And Vlad realised how lucky he was. The identity of the murderer was inside his memory. Possibly. He had to have seen it for it to alter his memories. Right?

Finding himself doubtful, Vlad hesitated. What would he do when he found out? He couldn't reveal it to anyone, other than Arthur and Lukas. And Officer Kirkland was aware, but what would he even be able to do?

He felt a wave of dizziness and groaned. While his fever had died down, he was still incredibly dizzy. And attempting something like a memory charm in his current state would just be looking for trouble. He was simply not in the right physical state for something like that.

He would explore this idea again when he felt better. But for now, he would sleep. He was incredibly tired all of a sudden.

…

Matthew was feeling horrible, not that his brother cared. He was being kept in the living room, with Alfred's hand curled around his upper arm. He could feel his brother's fingers digging into his flesh, and probably because of the fact that he was sick, it hurt more than it should have.

"Tell me the truth," Alfred spat. "Did you and your freaky friends have anything to do with the murders?"

"Of course not!" Matthew shouted. "Why would you even think that?"

Alfred's grip tightened, and Matthew winced in pain.

"It's all a freaky coincidence, don't you think?" Alfred asked. "That vampire coming, and…"

"Vlad isn't a vampire," Matthew snapped.

Alfred glared at him for the interruption, but didn't comment on it.

"He came, and suddenly we have three dead bodies," Alfred continued. "And the fact that they're all friends of mine…"

"You mean our bullies," Matthew said, glaring. "You're mad because everyone killed made it their life's mission to make our lives hell. Just like you! That's why you're upset!"

Matthew gasped when he received a punch in the face, and he was somewhat relieved to feel that Alfred had released his grip on his arm. He looked up with watery eyes at his brother, who was glaring at him with venom.

"It's your fault, you know?" Alfred said. "It's not bullying. It's teaching worthless freaks like you their place in society."

Matthew glared hatefully at his brother.

"We weren't the ones responsible," he said. "But the killer was doing us a favour. Don't give me that look. You would kill us too, if given the chance, wouldn't you?"

Matthew could see his brother's anger, and he was sort of prepared when hands wrapped around his throat. He calmly looked at Alfred.

"I told you," Matthew said. "You'd kill us, if given the chance."

Alfred's eyes widened, and he released Matthew. Matthew was slightly relieved to see that bit of humanity, and continued on.

"You hate us," Matthew said. "We've done nothing wrong, and you hate us? Do you know how much we've suffered at your hands? Do you have any idea the kinds of things you've done to your own brother?"

"Shut up!" Alfred shouted. "You're the reason why Artie doesn't want to be my friend anymore!"

"Is it really our fault?" Matthew said. "Because Arthur told us that he was tired of the way you were acting."

The second punch was more expected than the previous one, but it didn't stop the fact that it hurt. Alfred stormed out of the room, and Matthew sighed.

He knew that he had won that round against his brother, but like every victory, it was bittersweet, since Matthew was always left in pain.

Now that he thought about it, he felt as though he had been in pain earlier that week, with the other side of his head having been the one to suffer. But surely he would remember?

Unless he had a concussion, of course.

Matthew shuddered. That was a possibility that he did not want to explore.

Feeling a headache coming on, Matthew decided that it would be best if he went to bed, where he should have been. Climbing the stairs, he paused halfway, eyes drifting to the bottom step. Shaking his head of the strange feeling, he continued on his way to his room, where he collapsed on his bed.

…

Lovino had a small smile on his face, and for good reason: he was on kitchen duty. Which meant that he didn't have to deal with any customers. He also didn't get any crap from the other employees, so all in all, it was a good day.

However, the reason why he had been placed on kitchen duty was enough to sour his day. He was there because two days ago, he had been tripped and had spilled all of the food over his clothes. And his grandfather didn't believe him when he said that he had been tripped, and just believed that he had tripped on his own.

That he was clumsy. That he could do nothing right. That he was only good for messing things up.

He had tried to explain to his grandfather that he was being bullied, but the elder just wouldn't listen. And then his grandfather had asked Feliciano, the oblivious bastard, whether or not it was true, and Marcello had also never seen anything, since he usually spent his lunch breaks outside. And then his grandfather had blamed his 'foul attitude' for not being able to befriend anyone. Never mind the fact that he didn't always have said 'foul attitude'.

His grandfather also had a tendency not to acknowledge Matthew and Feliks as his friends. He simply couldn't accept it, since they were too different. But he complimented Feliciano and Marcello on the wide variety of friends they had.

He was brought out of his dark thoughts by a yelp, and he turned to see one of the other cooks being covered in the tomato sauce he had been working on. It happened sometimes that a bubble would burst in the sauce, sending a small amount of its contents all over the poor soul working on it.

His grandfather entered the kitchen, a grim look on his face. His eyes settled on Lovino, and the younger sighed. What did his grandfather think he did this time?

Romulus walked up to his grandson, while Lovino kept a weary gaze on him.

"What did you do this time?" Romulus asked lowly.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Lovino said.

"Language," Romulus said reflexively. "The police are here."

Lovino felt his stomach drop. Of course, his grandfather would think that he did something, regardless of evidence to the contrary.

"And why would you think that I did something?" Lovino asked, a little hurt at the subtle accusation.

"Because he asked to speak with you," Romulus said.

Oh.

"I didn't do anything," Lovino said, already removing his apron in order to go speak with the officer.

"And when you're done with that," Romulus said, "I think it's best if you go home."

Lovino's eyes widened.

"What?" he asked. "W-why?"

Romulus simply shook his head, and he left without answering his grandson. Lovino felt another pang, and he felt the tears stinging his eyes. Just what did his grandfather think about him?

"For what it's worth," one of the cooks said, "I don't think you did anything wrong."

Lovino gave her a small smile in gratitude, before going to the restaurant area.

He immediately recognised Officer Kirkland, having seen him around before. Thankfully, the man wasn't wearing his uniform, but that didn't change the fact that most of the town knew who he was. Everyone at the restaurant would know without a shadow of a doubt that he would be speaking with the police. They would form their own theories, and the rumour mill would start grinding.

The officer smiled, and Lovino felt himself relax a little. At least he knew that he wasn't in trouble, but he still didn't know what it was about.

"Thank you for coming," Officer Kirkland said.

"What's this about?" Lovino asked, taking a seat opposite the officer.

"It's about the murders," the officer said, his smile falling. "Allen James, Sadiq Adnan and Carlos Muchado. All three of them were friends, or at least on friendly terms. But there's another thing that they all have in common. I think you know better than I do what that is."

Lovino averted his eyes. Yes, he knew what they all had in common, and wondered what the officer was getting at.

Officer Kirkland sighed, before he took a sip of his coffee.

"So, the three of them liked to give you and your friends some grief?" Officer Kirkland said.

Lovino knew that it was both a question and a statement, but he didn't grant an answer to it. But subconsciously he had started to bite his lip, and his arms – which had been crossed the entire time – tightened their hold.

All of these Officer Kirkland took as a sign in the affirmative, and he decided to continue.

"Could you give me an example of how they hurt you?" Officer Kirkland asked.

"What does it matter?" Lovino asked. "And why the hell do you even care? Aren't you supposed to be looking into those murders or something?"

Officer Kirkland sighed.

"The fact that all three of the victims were your bullies is cause for concern," the officer said.

At the mention of the word 'victims', Lovino scoffed. Officer Kirkland took note of this, but didn't comment.

"You should understand that it's all very suspicious," Officer Kirkland said.

"So, you think that one of us killed them?" Lovino asked incredulously. "If we were capable of fighting back, let alone that, do you think we would have let it go on for that long?"

"I'm not accusing you," Kirkland said. "I just think that it's a little odd. And the other officers might think that you did have a hand in it. You especially would be suspicious, if they looked into your uncles Luciano and Flavio."

Lovino flinched a little at the mention of his uncles. The uncles involved with the mafia…

"I'm just trying to help you and your friends," Kirkland continued. "I want this bullying to stop."

Lovino snorted.

"Have you tried telling the teachers?" Kirkland asked.

"They won't do anything," Lovino said. "They're useless. The only time they really interfere is if they see it happening. And those bastards can talk their way out of it. And there are a lot of teachers that just don't want to help."

"How can you say that?"

"Because I saw it. I heard it. There was this one that outright said that I deserved everything they do to me."

Lovino was trying very hard not to yell at the officer. He was aware of the fact that he was in a busy restaurant, and that many of the people in there kept their eyes on him. He could especially feel his grandfather's glare, though he wouldn't acknowledge it.

Officer Kirkland stared at him for a moment before he sighed.

"I think I understand why you don't want my help," Kirkland said. "You've lost your faith in authority figures. What about your grandfather?"

"He doesn't believe me," Lovino grumbled. "He thinks that I misjudge people's reactions from my 'rudeness'. That if people give me grief, it's because of my 'foul attitude'."

"And I'm assuming that you weren't always like this?"

Lovino shook his head.

"You have your walls up," Kirkland said.

"What, are you a shrink now?" Lovino asked cynically.

Kirkland's mouth twitched.

"I did have some basic psychology," he said. "It's one of the reasons why I was deemed to work in law enforcement in a town that's predominantly teenagers. And I have four sons, after all."

Lovino looked at the table, trying to avoid the officer's eyes.

"Do you always wear long-sleeved shirts?" Kirkland asked.

Lovino stiffened, before he nodded his head.

"Is it what I think it is?" the officer asked.

Lovino nodded.

"I-it's been a while," he said. "I-I… If it wasn't for my friends…"

The officer stared at him for a while before he sighed.

"I really regret that this happened," Kirkland said. "But it's still not too late. Please, let me help you and your friends."

"Why now?" Lovino asked. "Why the hell is it so important to help us now? You have those murders to look into. And the fact that you keep sticking your nose in our business makes me think that you think we did that, and you're trying so hard to stop more murders. That's what this is about, isn't it? And when the actual murderer is caught, you won't give a fuck about me or my friends anymore. We're not relevant to your case anymore."

Kirkland exhaled sharply, and Lovino knew that the officer was trying hard to keep his own temper in check.

"Vlad already turned you down," Lovino said. "And unless Feliks or Matteo accept your offer, I won't accept it. Whenever I ask for help, I've always been disappointed. Why should I think that this time would be different?"

The officer's expression and posture softened, and Lovino could see that he had managed to prevent a potentially ugly scene.

Not that anyone would recognise, appreciate or acknowledge it.

"The police don't care about a couple of kids getting bullied," Lovino said. "Only when one of the kids slits his wrist or hangs himself will you do anything about it. Only when it's too late."

Kirkland sighed.

"I understand how you feel," Kirkland said. "But don't think of me as a police officer. Think of me as a father of someone your age who just wants to help his son's classmates."

Lovino swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his eyes sting yet again. He looked up at the officer.

"Are we done here?" Lovino asked.

Kirkland sighed, before he nodded.

"I suppose we are," he said. "But please, if you change your mind, give me a call."

Lovino hesitated, before he nodded his head. The officer gave a small smile.

"I hope the next time we see each other, it wouldn't be under such grim circumstances," Kirkland said.

"I guess," Lovino said, shrugging his shoulders.

The officer left, and Lovino waited for a moment before he also left, remembering what his grandfather had told him. He glanced towards him, but Romulus was busy with a customer. He wondered if he would ask him about it. Perhaps then, he would believe him about the bullying.

…He wasn't getting his hopes up.

Shaking his head, Lovino left the restaurant, wondering what he would do for the rest of the afternoon.

He supposed that he should visit Matthew and Vlad, just to see how they're doing. Of course, if Alfred was around, visiting Matthew would be difficult.

So, Vlad's house it was.

The restaurant was located in the shopping district, with the mall on the other side of the town. So Lovino would have to travel halfway through the town in order to get to Vlad's house. He decided to walk, wanting to let off some steam after the afternoon that he had had.

He wasn't angry, just… hurt.

He could completely understand how Vlad had felt with those harsh rumours. To be unjustly accused of something you didn't do, and a crime, for that matter… And the worst part was the fact that people believed they would actually do something like that.

And his grandfather…

"What did you do?"

His grandfather always thought the worst of him. Never Feliciano or Marcello. It was always something that Lovino did. Lovino was the one that was mean to his brothers, and Romulus never cared to notice that it was simply lashing out. That there was something deeply disturbing his eldest grandson. And Lovino could do nothing right. He was the klutz that would spill all of the food on himself, and he wouldn't even listen when he tried to tell him that he had been tripped.

He wondered idly what sort of drastic measure he would need to take before his grandfather would open his eyes to the truth.

He was lurched out of his grim thoughts when he was pulled into a gap between two buildings. It wasn't quite an alley, since it was too small, but even more dangerous, since it would be harder for anyone to see him in there.

He had a few choice words for whoever pulled him in when they died in his throat.

Even though the person standing in front of him didn't go out of his way too often to make their lives hell, he still liked to use them as a means to let off some steam. And unfortunately, he was one of the most sadistic people among that group.

And he was pissed.