The man roared.

This couldn't be happening. All his planning, all his anticipation and all his efforts had been blocked by a single move on the part of his opponent. Pausing in pacing the floor, the man glared at the radio receiver on his desk; the silence coming from it was deafening. His prey was gone, had been for the last four hours, and it looked to remain that way. He had listened, rolling his eyes as America apologized profusely for whatever he'd done. Judging by the cabinet sounds from the bathroom microphone and increased drowsiness in his quarry's voice, it was likely he'd drugged her. He whirled on the balls of his feet and viciously punched the wall next to him. His rage subsided into the pit of his stomach, leaving a foul taste in his mouth, and a throbbing in his knuckles.

Lifting his hand to his face, the man studied the new lacerations as they began to ooze blood. This new development didn't mean an end to his operation. Roadblocks could be run, and obstacle courses could be conquered. Ms. Bohannon would be his, he vowed, tongue sliding from behind his teeth to lick his wounds.

Alfred watched from his hiding place in the doorway as Dinah slowly pulled on his blue military coat and hat. She'd seen him put that thing on thousands of times in the past five years, and she'd be asleep when he did it again tomorrow morning. This Revolution was a long uphill battle, but he'd lasted this long and he wasn't about to give up a chance at freedom. He could practically taste it like he could taste gunpowder on the battlefield. He watched as she pulled his belt over her chest like a sash. It was long past her bedtime when he tucked her in, so what on Earth was she doing up looking so serious? Sure, she was always a bit serious and choleric, but not like this. He watched as she tried to put on his much larger boots and snorted, giving away his position. Dinah flinched and turned at the sound with wide, dark blue eyes. Her face turned bright red as she attempted to hide in his clothes that made her look tiny.

"H-Hi," Dinah stuttered nervously, standing embarrassed in the middle of her caretaker's room wearing parts of his military uniform.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Gotta wear this."

"You have to wear my uniform at night? In the house?"

"Fer battle."

Alfred knelt down and readjusted his hat on her head so it didn't block her eyes. "Who are you battling?"

"There's wendigos under ma bed," she whispered, eyes wide. "Come kill 'em for me?"

Alfred pressed his lips together to keep himself from grinning and nodded. "Now that's serious. We haven't had wendigo here for a long time. Little girls need to wear protection."

"Here." Dinah held out his hat to him. "You need dis."

Alfred smiled and settled it on his head before scooping her into his arms. "You wanna stay up high so the wendigo can't sneak up on you and nibble your toes?"

Dinah nodded, and Alfred hefted her up to clamber onto his shoulders. Once she had a firm hold around his chin, Alfred began the slow walk to Dinah's room.

"Under there!" Dinah's voice was barely more than a squeak as he opened the door, and Al crouched so she could climb from his shoulders to the mattress.

"Okay, you stay up here and keep watch. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

He bent and pressed his cheek to the floor, making scratching notices as he searched. "Oh hey, I found the heel you lost this morning."

"The wendigo eated it."

"Uh huh," Al said dryly. He knew she hated those porcelain shoes France had brought over with him during his latest trip. He had her in them when he got her dressed for breakfast that morning, but sometime after that they vanished and were replaced with pale bare feet. He made more scratching and hissing noises.

Dinah screamed, and Alfred heard her climbing up one of the bed posters. "Kill it! Kill it wif fire!"

"Die beastie!" He reached under the bed and made banging sounds accompanied by dramatic death throes and squeals from the monster. He withdrew his hand and brushed it off on his pant leg as he sat up to look up at Dinah who had managed to nearly reach the curtain rungs on her bed.

Her eyes were locked on him. "Dija kill it?"

"Yup. He's gone." He sat on the edge of her bed and patted his thigh. Dinah inched down and crept forward until Alfred could pull her into his lap. "I'll always keep you safe from monsters. You know that right?" he said, pressing a kiss to her unruly curls. "That's part of the reason I'm fighting this war. I have to keep you safe. Make sure nobody tries to take your freedom." His hand moved in small circles across her back.

"You can beat anything. You beat all the monsters."

"I did, and I will always be looking after you. Now, why don't you get back under your covers, and I'll tuck you in."

"C-Cain't I sleep with you?"

Alfred paused only for a moment. It'd be hard to sneak out in the morning if she was in his bed. Then again, he wouldn't see her again for another week. In a week, he'd be in Washington's camp. He had the help move her around the country often. He didn't want his enemies—namely Britain—finding out where she was. He'd already failed miserably at keeping her identity a secret.

Dinah's eyes widened and her face, usually consumed with a frown, split into a grin. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck and bounced in Al's arms. Alfred chuckled and ruffled her hair as he carried her back to his bedroom and sat her on the edge of his bed. He took his uniform off of her and put it back on the chest at the foot of his bed, leaving her in one of his old nightdresses that England had made for him years ago when he was still that tiny.

"Alright, pull the covers back," he said gently.

He watched her crawl under from the foot of the bed and slide up to the pillows like a snake, her hair spreading out in gentle waves of pale gold. He turned his back, slowly removing his shirt and pants, careful to watch the healing infection just above his hipbone. As soon as he was down to his undergarments, he slid into bed behind Dinah and blew out the candle. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair and smiling as he felt her press her back against him and curl her toes against his abdominals.

But then she rolled over to face him…

Her dark blue eyes met his, but instead of them being sleepy and innocent, they were pain filled, terrified. Suddenly, she was several feet away and much older. She was wearing a Confederate uniform, but it was covered in muck and blood. The bandages on her throat were black with aged blood, dirt and sweat. A few curls were stuck to her neck from where they escaped her hat. This wasn't Dinah. This was Confederacy…Dixie. Her eyes were wild, ferocious and deadly. They were cold and ruthless. The eyes of a killer.

She was still so much younger than Alfred, just a child, but she'd caused so much pain and suffering. It was surprising how, in the beginning, she had been beating him, the hero, without any training at all in the art of war. But America had come back, crushed the child who called herself the Confederacy, but he hadn't been able to move quickly enough to prevent her from escaping his grasp. So Alfred had started the chase. While in the past he had fought then retreated, he didn't pause now, didn't pull back. He chased the Confederacy with everything he had.

"A-America." She stuttered as she stared at him in shock.

He glared darkly. "Dixie, this is the last time I'm chasing you around like this. Surrender."

She shook her head. "No! You ain't won yet."

"Yes, I have." But even before the words left America's mouth, she had run at him, slicing his cheek open as she took off at a run to get away.

He caught up to her though, grabbed her by the arm. Alfred snarled as he turned her to face him. Those dark blue eyes suddenly widened in shock as something warm oozed over Alfred's hand. He felt like he left his body at that point. He was seeing this from the sidelines. Horrified, he watched as blood oozed from her gut and she exhaled a mist of blood.

"Oh," she breathed, red stains blooming on her lips as blood bubbled up and tainted her teeth. "That was...well done…brother."

Alfred watched in horror as the thing in his body grinned and jerked the knife up in a sawing motion. Dixie screamed and gripped his hands, staring at the sky with glazed, unseeing eyes as she tried to stop his hands from continuing their torture. Alfred watched as his hands reached in and dug around after tossing the knife away. Dixie's legs kicked out as she gasped and squirmed until he made a jerking motion. Her whole body froze and all the air left her in ne final, bloody breath. Her hands fell to her sides and her head fell to the side limply, her eyes wide and scared, pleading with nothing. Then his body turned to him with her dislodged heart in hand. His eyes were wide, challenging him, as he lifted it to his mouth and bit in, consuming it in huge bites. Her blood dripped and oozed from his mouth as he grinned at him.

"I'm whole."

"Dixie no!" Alfred flailed in his bed, breathing heavily. He pressed his lips together, choking down the sob that he wanted to let loose as tears filled his eyes. Sweat stuck his back to the sheets, yet he felt cold. The shiver that ran through him had nothing to do with the temperature.

One breath.

Another.

Anything to calm himself down. Sometimes it was hard to separate the dream from the here and now. He had nightmares all the time. Most of them were memories but...sometimes his mind liked to fuck with him. Warp his memories. Sometimes they were warped into good memories, like marrying Dixie like he wanted when Lincoln first proposed not killing her. Or having Arthur or Francis raise him and Mattie for just a bit longer. But none of his dreams were as haunting or repetitive as this particular nightmare. It was the same one, again and again. He usually had it three or four times a year, and it fucking terrified him.

It scared him how close he had come to killing her all those time before in real life. That could've been real instead of some fucked up nightmare. The thought of that blank, wide eyed stare made him want to puke. What scared him most was when he said "I'm whole" every time. Like he needed it to make his problems go away. And that look of bliss as he...as he ate...

When she came to, it was to soft whining and something warm and wet stroking repeatedly across her neck. Dixie scowled, and rolled away, snuggling deeper into her pillow. Behind her, the moment she moved, there was a long, old-man grunt.

She moaned under her breath. "Ulysses, shhhhhhh. Not now. I'm-" Abruptly, her memory resurfaced and Dixie bolted upright. Fight-or-flight instincts screamed at her from every direction, her head swiveling side to side in a threat-evaluation exercise firmly embedded into her memory. Nothing but the bed, sunnily orange walls, and her dogs met her searching gaze, causing her panic to fade into confusion.

Slowly shifting to sit cross-legged, Dixie reached out, scratching under her eldest dog's chin. "Thanks for the wake-up call," she murmured, blinking to dispel the fog that threatened to creep back over her. It was the same feeling as waking up after an un-needed nap. Wait...she'd fallen asleep...drugs in her tea...Alfred.

"That motherfuckin' son of a bitch!"

Rolling off the bed and landing smoothly on her feet, she took a deep breath, letting her anger build in the center of her chest. Hands balled into fists, she stalked towards the door and yanked it open with far more force than necessary. She made no attempt to keep her steps quiet as she descended the staircase, one hand on the wall for support. Movement sounded from the room she was descending into, and she lifted her chin in defiance. "Alfred Fuckwad Jones, of all the hare-brained, lowdown things you've done, this hasta be the most-" Stopping on the landing at the bottom of the stairs, she broke off mid-rant as she caught sight of the person standing there. "Gil?"

"Vassup, Dixie?" The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Damn, America told mein awesomeness you'd be pissed, but holy scheiße! You sleep vell?"

Dixie huffed. "As well as a drug-induced nap can get," she grumbled. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the weathered hardwood floors, overstuffed sofas, and a book on the coffee table. "Is he even here?" she huffed cattily.

"Nein. Vant a beer?"

"Y'know I don't drink that rotgut a yers."

"You don't know vhat you're missing. Ah, well, more for me."

Taking the last two steps down onto the living room floor, Dixie moved to sit on the couch opposite Gilbert with Ulysses hot on her heels. As Stonewall moved to climb into Gil's lap. The dude was a softie around puppies, and Stonewall knew a sucker when he saw one. "If ya don't mind my askin', just how did he wrangle you inta babysittin' me?"

"Vest told me about your little friend, und zat's all I needed to know. Honestly, I'm still pissed zat you didn't tell me sooner. I thought ve vere friends."

Dixie frowned. "We are. It ain't ya'll's business is all."

"Even you know zat's a fucked up lie."

"Is not!"

"Oh yeah?! Look at me und tell me again."

Shit. That was always her tell. Dixie looked away from the fellow former nation's harsh glare. "America also asked for me specifically because he knew you vould be pissed and ven you woke, none of the states vould dare get in your vay." His head tilted curiously. "How did he manage to drug you anyvay? Last time I tried to slip you some ecstasy just to make you loosen up, you stared at the drink I gave you und bruised mein family jewels."

Her lip twisted. "A package a sleeping pills in ma bathroom. Every so often, I'll get insomnia, and I'd rather take medication ta help me sleep than stare at the ceiling fer hours on end." Leaning back in the soft cushions, she smiled grimly. "He's clever, there's no doubt 'bout that. I don't s'pose he left a message?"

"Ja, he asked me to tell you zat vhile you're here, all safehouse procedures are to be observed. You do not go outside vithout an escort, you do not leave vithout permission from him only, und the telephone is for emergencies only."

"Of course he'd say that," she grumbled, diverting her eyes to the rug. At the back of her mind, she pondered just how angry it would make Alfred if she were to disregard his instructions. Served him right after what he did.