I hit a roadblock for a moment, but then I knew just what to write for this story. So sorry for the wait, but enjoy the chapter that's going to leave you more in suspense then before!

Night was something that one could say teenage boys would love. It was when they had time alone from their families and spend just some 'guy time' to get through their days. Tonight, though, was definitely a guy night in Alfred's mind because he was going with his friends to the one place that they had been waiting for all week. They were going to the reason that Alfred shaped up and started going back to a normal routine.

As Alfred was the last one home, where all his friends were waiting, he wasted no time in throwing his backpack into his room and rushing downstairs to carry the supplies that Lovino and Feliciano had brought with them. Alfred, for once in his life, was happy that he hadn't let himself get too overweight and had occupied himself with football because he and Ivan were the only ones who volunteered to carry the many buckets of paint that the Italian brothers thought were necessary.

"You guys are so slow! Come on!" Alfred complained as he walked ahead of them. His friends groaned in response; no one wanted to answer him,

but no one wanted to tell him to shut up either. They were feeding off his energy, enjoying how they were finally getting out there and fulfilling a long forgotten promise.

"Alfred, we'll get there when we get there," Matthew tried, as always, to be the voice of reason and stability, but not even his words could calm the hyperactive American down.

"Well we would get there a lot faster if you guys actually tried moving!" Alfred called back. Matthew just rolled his eyes, carefully watching where he walked so as to not trip over a stray root or rock.

Bethany fell onto her bed the moment she arrived home, too tired to talk to her parents despite their questions about where she had been. All she wanted to do was sleep and then sleep more, maybe sleep through the weekend and then through Monday so that she wouldn't have to see Alfred or his friends. His friends were sweet and everything, but to Bethany they looked down on her as if she was something lesser, like she wasn't even worth their company. She could see them laughing at her in her mind, even though the rational part of her mind was telling her that the last thing those nice guys would do was laugh at her.

"Beth, sweetie? Are you okay?" her mom was at the door, talking through it but making no move to go through the entry way. Bethany let out a muffled reply that yes, she was indeed okay for now, but she wasn't going to come down for dinner, she just needed to be alone for a while.

Her parents left her in silence for the rest of the night, figuring that if she really needed to talk to them then she would come to them and bring up the problem herself. In a way, Bethany was thankful that they left her alone, but she wished that for once they would demand to know what was wrong so they could talk about it like a family.

'Ohh poor child…'

Bethany's head snapped up. There was a voice, she was sure that she heard it; a deep voice, which was rough and rasped out its vowels. Yet, somehow, she knew in her heart that it was a woman who was speaking aloud to her.

"Who's there?" she whispered to the air, almost not expecting a response.

'The girl has ears, she can hear us," a male voice joined in.

'I want to help her, the poor thing will be important," the female voice spoke again.

"Help who?" Bethany whispered again, hoping that the voices would respond.

'Poor child, scorned by love, do you want our help?'

She could almost feel arms around her, hugging her and offering comfort to her. She leaned into the touch that wasn't really there, imagining that there was a real person to match the voice that spoke to her.

"Can you help me?" she asked the voice.

'Of course we can. Anything you want. What do you want from us?"

"I just want to be happy."

"We can do that, yes we can poor child. But first you must do something for us…"

Alfred ran into the clearing. He had been waiting all week, and it had actually taken all his strength not to run straight from his house to the clearing of their carousel. The only reason that he didn't run, though, was because he knew his friends wouldn't be able to keep up with him.

Instead of the sight that normally met him, the view of an old park almost glittering under the moon and stars, Alfred was met with a sight that caused him to pause right in his tracks, almost making his friends run right into him.

"Who would do this?!" he asked his friends, waiting to see the reactions that they would have as well as him. They were all in equal shock, staring at the sight before them.

Pieces of their beloved centaurs were scattered about the grass, limbs and bits of wood blending in so well and so small it was almost impossible to find them all. Spray paint blackened faces had destroyed once perfect details that had shone so brightly before. It was only the centaurs that were touched; the monsters that also decorated the park were spotless. It even looked as if someone had taken the time to brush away all the dirt and dust the boys had left there in favor of their centaurs.

"I thought no one else knew about this place," Feliciano said sadly. The others were thinking the same as him, that this place had been found by them and only them and no one else.

"Someone either doesn't like centaurs, or they don't like us," Ivan remarked, going over to his centaur and brushing his hand over the spray paint, seeing if it was still wet. Fortunately for them, the paint was still wet, and most of the paint Ivan touched came off onto his palm.

"What do you mean?" Matthew wondered. He didn't hesitate, seeing the wet paint he quickly took off his hoodie and began to wipe away as much as he could from Gilbert's once shining silver hair.

"We were the only ones who knew about this place, unless someone told," Ivan glanced around to see if anyone would fess up that they might have told someone, "so that means they must have followed us one night."

"He's right. Look, only our centaurs are damaged," Kiku agreed. Matthew got as much paint he could out of Gilbert's hair, and then handed his now ruined hoodie to Kiku, who accepted the cloth gratefully.

"What are we going to do?" Alfred finally asked. The paint on his centaur was the worst, with almost all of the horse body blacked out and painted over. One of his arms had been cut into and eventually ripped off his body, lying at his feet. Yet unlike some of the others, his centaurs face had been left untouched.

"It will be harder, but we can still fix them up," Lovino spoke up. Everyone silently agreed.

They set to work, wiping away paint with whatever they could spare. Alfred couldn't help but notice that his centaur looked different, he almost looked as if something was wrong; a frown now covered the centaur's face where one of peace once settled.

'This isn't good, this isn't good at all. The plan didn't work, the boys still want to harm us, yes they do.'

'Shut up! It will work, they will leave and then we will have everything to ourselves just like before.'

'But what if they don't leave us and we are left alone with no one?'

'They'll stay, they always do, and no boys will take them from us like they tried before. You will see, they'll stay with us. They always do.'

Let me know what you think!