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Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 132

France woke up, feeling cold and lonely. He frowned when he saw that Spain wasn't there. Knowing about the squatter that resided in Spain's body, France had a terrible sense of foreboding. He scrambled out of the tent, hoping to find Spain before something terrible could happen.

The light was just starting to peek over the horizon, and France knew that he only had a short period of time before the others started to wake up and go about their day. He had already learned that there were a few early birds.

He found Spain near the edge of the camp, curled up into a ball with his knees pressed tightly against his chest and trembling violently. France hesitated, before he placed his hand on Spain's shoulder. Spain's breath hitched before he looked up to France.

"What happened?" the blond asked.

"It was England," Spain spat, averting his gaze. "He… he made me undo the protective wards. No one here is safe anymore."

France froze. He'd heard about what happened to Kazakhstan, and the thought that anything like that, or anything worse, could happen at any time now was frightening. He could already imagine his missing regions to come and punish him. And he had to remember to check on the regions that didn't go missing. Picardy was one of the best people to reach out to. He usually knew what was going on with the others.

"Did anything else happen?" France asked.

Spain nodded.

"The moment the wards went down, my regions came too," he said. "The dead ones."

"…I'm sorry," France whispered. He knelt down and hugged Spain. "What did they do?"

"You interrupted them. They're still here."

France jumped. His eyes darted around, though he couldn't see anyone. He turned to Spain in concern.

"You can't see them," Spain said. "They came to talk to me. They don't care about talking to you. They're angry at me for failing them."

France rubbed Spain's shoulders. Spain took a shaky breath.

"They're not going to punish me," he said. "Provided…"

France frowned, wondering what caused Spain to hesitated.

"Provided what?" he asked.

"…Provided I find and rescue the ones that remain," Spain said. "There are four of them still alive: Andalusia, Valencia, Murcia and Cantabria."

"And where are they? How are you meant to find them?"

"They're in Malta."

France winced. Not only was it a Requiem nation, but Malta was the sister of the leaders. Trying to go there would be dangerous, especially if they couldn't be more specific.

"And, Angleterre?" France asked.

"He's still inside my head," Spain said. "He's a bit annoyed that my regions are showing me mercy by giving me such an easy pass. But he respects their desires to have the others rescued."

It was nice to hear that these vengeful spirits had at least some humanity left. Though clearly they had few qualms about harming nations that had nothing to do with their deaths. And he realised that as long as Spain had that task, the spirits most likely would not harm him.

"You don't have to do this alone," France said. "I'll help you, of course."

France's heart broke a little when Spain shook his head.

"I just got you back from Requiem," he said. "I don't want to put you in any more danger. And if they know what I'm planning to do… Then they wouldn't hesitate to take you back. Or kill you, especially if they manage to get me in a position where I couldn't help. It's too risky."

France sighed. Spain could be a bit frustrating when he was feeling overprotective. And while it was nice to hear that Spain wanted to protect him, he was a bit upset that Spain expected the worst to happen.

"What are the odds that Malta would be there?" France asked. "By the time she's aware of us, we would already be gone."

"I would need to go alone," Spain said. "And I would need to do it with as few nations here knowing about it as possible."

"I told you already, you don't have to…"

"They took great joy in taunting me about one thing. There is a Requiem spy among us."

France's breath hitched.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Who is it?"

"They didn't say," Spain said. "But I know they're not lying. Call it a feeling."

"We should warn the others."

"It's too dangerous. Without a definite person to point to, the very idea would cause everyone to become suspicious and paranoid. Soon enough we're dealing with a witch hunt."

"And we can't afford infighting in the middle of a war. This is frustrating. I think they did this deliberately to make us squirm."

"I have no doubt about that."

"…So then, how do you plan to go about it?"

"I have to go. That's one of the requirements. I can't ask Miguel to rescue them on my behalf. In fact, I shouldn't involve Alvora at all." Spain sighed, tugging at his hair. "I'll ask Norway to help me. He can use his magic to get me there, and he can help me track them down. And if I'm lucky, he can get this parasite out of my body."

France jumped when Spain's hand suddenly wrapped around his own throat. France tried to pry Spain's hand away while the brunet hissed. Eventually, Spain released his hold. He took a few grateful gulps of air while France shook his head, trying to steady himself.

"What just happened?" France demanded.

"England," Spain spat. "Apparently, he doesn't appreciate being called a parasite. And he cheerfully informed me that this was just a warning. The next time I 'step out of line', he promises that my hands will be around your throat."

France clicked his tongue.

"It seems that he's become more of a salaud after death," he said. "What does he even want now? Didn't he do what he wanted, or were the wards not enough?"

"No," Spain said. "He's not finished. Not by a long shot. But I have no idea what he's planning next."

"Of course not." France looked back towards the camp, noticing that more and more people were stirring. "We should probably go back. When are you planning on going to Malta?"

"As soon as I can get Norway to take me."

"And just you?"

"I don't want to drag too many people into this."

"At least take one or two other people too. Why don't you ask your old colonies? I'm sure at least one of them would be happy to join you."

"Not the Caribbeans. It's too dangerous for them. But… Alright, I'll ask someone."

"Merci," France breathed.

As the two of them returned to their tent, France made a mental note to ask Norway if he knew about a way to exorcise a malevolent spirit. He would have to keep it quiet from Spain, because if Spain knew, then England would know, and there was no telling what England would do to Spain if he suspected any foul play.

Instead of musing about England, France turned his thoughts towards Spain's regions. He was surprised that they wanted to rescue the others. China had explained to him what he'd learned, and their resentment towards the living was palpable. So, why have the others rescued? And why not do it themselves?

France enjoyed the occasional philosophy question, and he figured he could occupy his mind by pondering what could possibly go through the head of someone that had already ceased to be.

…

Macedonia bit her lip, before knocking on the bedroom door. She knew that Canada and Serbia were in there, and that they'd been there for a while. And she would normally leave them be, but this was urgent. Montenegro and Croatia behind her appeared to be of the same opinion.

There was the sound of someone cursing and shuffling, and a few seconds later Canada opened the door. The door was only wide enough for half of Canada's face to poke through. His glasses were missing. That was where Macedonia's observations stopped. She didn't have to think further.

"Y-yes?" he asked.

"Sorry to disturb," Macedonia apologised. "But we have a problem. None of us have seen Herzegovina all day. Her bed's not made, and she always makes her bed. It's a bit… alarming."

Canada frowned, before his eyes widened. He gasped, and Macedonia didn't like the look of pure panic in his eyes.

"I can't sense her in the country!" he exclaimed.

Canada was nudged aside, and Serbia appeared in his place.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Serbia demanded.

"We hoped she was somewhere else, or that we just missed her," Montenegro explained. "But no one's seen her, and that's when we thought…"

Serbia growled.

"Give us five minutes, and then we'll try to figure out where she is," he said.

Macedonia sighed and nodded. Croatia cleared his throat.

"I suggest doing this later at night, when the rest of us are asleep," Croatia said.

Serbia didn't answer, and the door slammed in their faces. Macedonia sighed.

"Well, that was awkward," she muttered.

"No kidding," Montenegro agreed.

…

Hutt River groaned as he collapsed onto the bed. He'd spent the entire night observing Brazil, and other than not knowing the language and getting to know the time difference, he didn't really have much to report. He saw the police, but no one in military uniform. He texted the nation that asked him to spy on Brazil as much before he curled up on the bed. It was already morning, and he could hear a few people moving around, but he was just too tired to care. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, he could convince them that he was sick.

Oh, wait, that might not be the best idea. Australia might think that it had something to do with Hutt's looming dissolution, and he might try to pry into it. Unless, of course, he could manage to find a way that would make Seborga's blackmail null and void… But that still left the threat of the bombing of the other nations.

He felt stuck, and no matter what he did, he would end up doing something that he didn't want. He wondered if this was something that nations often experienced. If so, then he couldn't see why Sealand would have wanted to be an official nation. This was horrible.

Just as he was about to doze off, the door burst open. He jumped at the sudden noise, and he panicked as many jumbled thoughts jumped around in his mind. He turned to the door and saw Sealand, who was smiling brightly.

"Come on, get up!" Sealand explained. "Australia's going to take us exploring."

Hutt River groaned and plopped back onto the bed.

"Peter, I'm not in the mood," he said. "I don't feel so good."

"Are you sick?" Sealand asked, taking a step closer.

Hutt River hesitated for a moment. He knew that he was exhausted, but his head hurt, his eyes were burning, his body was shaky, and he was even a bit nauseous. And so he nodded his head.

"Yeah," he said. "So please, let me sleep."

"…Can I get you anything?" Sealand asked.

"…An aspirin and water would be nice. And maybe one of Australia's granola bars."

"Okay!"

Hutt River sighed in relief when Sealand shut the door quietly. He snuggled into the sheets, already feeling himself drifting off again. He jolted awake when the door opened again. Based on the heavy footsteps, it wasn't Sealand.

"I hear you're not feeling so great," Australia said. Hutt River winced when he felt Australia's hand on his forehead. "You don't have a fever. Could you tell me what's wrong?"

"Head hurts," Hutt River mumbled. He might as well go along this route. "Eyes hurt. Body's sore. Nauseous."

"Well, I guess that explains your lack of appetite yesterday," Australia sighed. "Rest up. Holler if you need anything."

Hutt River nodded, watching as Australia left the room. It took Hutt River a moment to realise that Australia had brought the glass of water and aspirin. He felt a surge of guilt as he swallowed them down. He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell the truth. He couldn't ask for help.

He hoped that Australia and the others didn't hate him if they ever found out what he was doing, and who he was helping. He didn't think that he could handle being hated.

…

Canada was pacing, trying to reach out with his mind as he searched for Herzegovina. His land was vast, so he hoped that he had just missed something. But he would have to accept that she wasn't anywhere in Canada.

But then, where was she?

"It has to be Requiem," Serbia said. "Slovenia already took Bosnia. It would make sense for him to go after Herzegovina next."

"I don't even get how they would know where to look," Croatia said. "I mean, Canada is huge. Unless they used magic… And that would explain how they got in and out so fast…"

"Ireland…" Northern Ireland muttered. All eyes turned to him. "He told me, long before the war, that he would always be able to find me if I got lost. I was still a kid, so I thought he was just trying to tell me that he would always be there for me, but…"

"Now it looks like a threat," Scotland said, eyes widening. "Shit. They could track us. And his magic is stronger than I thought."

Northern Ireland lowered his gaze. Scotland sighed, ruffling his brother's hair.

"This is not your fault," Scotland said. "He used you. He used us."

"It happened," Canada said. "Are we sure that it's Requiem? It might have been a different cause. It might have been one of those ghosts."

"What ghosts?"

"A few nations reported encountering people that were confirmed dead. They were attacked in some way. Timor had to drown in blood because he couldn't open his mouth and spit up the blood that was filling his mouth. Even Requiem was attacked."

"…You need to tell us these types of things."

"Sorry, a lot of things are happening, and you're still new to all of this."

"You have a lot of catching up to do," Croatia explained.

Scotland glared at Croatia, but leaned back in his seat, accepting the point. Canada looked towards Serbia.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked. "How are we going to approach it?"

"We're going to rescue her, of course!" Croatia snapped. "And Bosnia too. We should have done this a lot sooner!"

"You're right," Serbia said. "We should have done this sooner. The thing is, considering Bosnia's state of mind when we left, and the time he spent there, we have no idea what we're dealing with. We also need to find out why they took Herzegovina in the first place. Is it for Bosnia's sake, or did they want something else?"

"Remind me again why we didn't immediately save Bosnia," Croatia growled.

Serbia pointed to his thigh, silently reminding them about getting shot by one of those bullets, and about the exhaustion that came after using the spell to get them all to safety. Croatia's expression softened, but he still had a look that told them that he was ready for a fight.

"I also had to deal with another rescue around the same time," Canada said. "And even the successful rescues tend to have problems."

"We didn't choose to abandon Bosnia," Serbia insisted. "There are just too many risks and unknowns."

Croatia opened his mouth to continue arguing, but Montenegro clapped her hand over his mouth. She glared at Croatia for a moment before turning to Serbia and Canada.

"How do you guys usually do your recon for these rescues?" she asked.

"Botswana has astral projection," Canada said. "He can spy on them unnoticed."

"Can't you send him?" Scotland asked.

"We could ask him for his help," Serbia mused. "As long as Jamaica isn't around. They have similar magic, and Jamaica had already threatened him. We can't put Sammy in any unnecessary danger."

Croatia narrowed his eyes, but Montenegro still had her hand on his mouth, and it didn't look as though she was going to change it anytime soon.

"So, are we going to rescue them now?" Macedonia asked.

"We're going to try," Serbia replied.

…

France released a deep breath as he approached Norway. Spain was nowhere nearby, and he couldn't see a better opportunity.

"Bonjour, Norvège," France greeted. "Could I perhaps have a word with you? In private?"

Norway frowned, but nodded his head. France led him apart from the others, but the camp was still in sight.

"What's this about?" Norway asked.

"Angleterre," France whispered. "While taking a stroll, he… His spirit possessed Antonio. There were wards placed to keep those spirits out. They're gone now. But Angleterre is still inside Antonio. And I wonder… Do you think it's possible to exorcise him?"

Norway had listened patiently. His eyes widened when France told him about England possessing Spain. When France finished, Norway's hand went to his chin, a frown gracing his features.

"I can understand why you chose to discuss this away from the others," Norway murmured. "Spain already told me about his trip to Malta. Does it have something to do with that?"

"They are connected, but not the same," France said. "Les fantômes seem to respect each other's different wishes. So Angleterre wouldn't interfere."

"Right. And as for the exorcism… I suggest asking Laos if he could help. I think I heard somewhere that he's skilled in this, along with the prophetic abilities."

"Merci," France sighed. "And, when you go to Malta…"

"I'll keep an eye on him. Don't worry."

"Again, merci."

"Um, could I ask you something? I just noticed, but… You seem to be adding a lot more French phrases. More than usual, I mean."

"Nervous habit, I suppose," France sighed.