Title:Blue Moon
Author: Faeriesnook

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. Nor do I own the OC's of Scotland and Wales that appear within this story. They belong to loveanime18 (Scotland) and seatalia (Wales) respectively. They just allow me to borrow them for stories.
Rating: T

Notes: This following story was inspired by the MAD Tsuki no Waltz.

Summary: They say when the moon is blue, strange things occur. A gateway to another world opens, linking our world with its own. Now, America and Canada have found themselves pulled into this other world. A world full of strife and chaos, and magic. Filled to the brim with familiar, and yet not familiar, faces. And in the very center of it all, a mystery. One they must find a solution too before they could even dream about returning home.

-

His head had never hurt so much in his entire life. That was the first, coherent thought that came to America's throbbing mind. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hesitant to open them. Had he hit his head? He couldn't remember doing so, but then again, if he had there was a good chance he had forgotten the action. But he had been doing nothing that would have lead for him to hit his head. All he had been doing, to his recollection, was talking to Canada while looking through some of England's boring books… Yeah, that had been all. He and his brother had just…

Canada!

Any hesitation was forgotten. Blue eyes shot wide open as he sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain and dizziness that accompanied the action. He looked around wildly, spotting his brother lying a few feet away, face down in the dirt. For a moment he had to stare at their surroundings, confused as to why they were no longer standing in England's stuff sitting room, but the panic for his brother won over those thoughts. America rushing to the others side, his heart beating rapidly against his chest, trembling hands shaking his brother. He could worry about that later, after he knew his brother was safe. "Canada! Canada, wake up!"

"Amer…ica?" Violet eyes opened groggily, and America could feel relief wash through his entire body. He nodded simply leaning back as his brother sat up. The Canadian rubbed his head, looking around their surroundings, his eyes going wide. "… Wh-Where are we!?"

The American was about to respond, taking in their surroundings properly. And soon, his face mirrored his brothers in surprise.

They were no longer in the Brit's sitting room, standing besides the boring book shelf waiting for him to finish with some phone call (though America had vaguely realized that upon waking). No, they were in a dark, wooded area; the trees twisting together, looking like something taken out of a nightmare. And on impulse, the American's hand flew out to grip his brother's arms, scenes from horror movies replaying themselves in his mind. As if sensing it, his brother raised his other hand, taking America's in his own and running his thumb along the back of it whispering a few soothing words. It helped a little, but only a little. And America could just feel his breath hitch as the trees shifted with an unfelt breeze, or maybe it had been one of the forests inhabitants. One of the forests scary inhabitants. Ones that would no doubt leap out and-

"America, we aren't in a scary movie."

"It looks like one!"

"But we aren't," the other reasoned, and America swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding. "We're here together, nothing bad'll happen."

Again he nodded, mildly noting how pathetic he was acting. Honestly, how could he allow himself, the hero, to be so easily frightened!?

"You watched a scary movie before I came over today, didn't you?"

"Last night…" He admitted, hanging his head slightly. "It was um, a horror movie marathon on TV so I watched it all…"

"America."

"I-I can't help it and you know it!" A twig snapped, and America jumped a good foot, nearly falling into Canada's lap. His brother just laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh honestly, I thought heroes never got scared."

"Even heroes have a weakness!" He snapped, glowering at his grinning brother. But at least it was Canada with him, and not someone else. Only Canada could see this side of him. This side that openly admitted heroes had a weakness. And one of the few who could see him so easily frightened. Anyone else would just make fun of him; Canada was the only one who never did.

"Right, so horror movies are your kryptonite?" America glowered more, and Canada shook his head with that amused smile. But that smile died as he looked around again, cocking his head to one side. "Putting all that aside… Just where are we? Weren't we in England's..?"

"Yeah," America murmured, glancing around again. "I remember feeling like I got hit with somethin'… But that was it."

"Same," his brother responded, rising to his feet and looking around. "But then how are we here, eh…"

"I bet'cha its one of England's jokes." He scowled, rising as well and crossing his arms over his chest. "That's gotta be it. Iggy decided to pull a joke on us."

"I thought you didn't believe in magic."

"I don't! I didn't say he used magic…"

"Then how do you think we got out here?" The Canadian turned to face America, a frown on his lips. "How do you think England managed to knock both of us out?"

"He might've drugged our tea!"

"You didn't take a sip," his brother pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "You just poured the entire bowl of sugar in it, set it down, and went to look at his books and complain about how bored you were."

"… I was gonna drink it." A pointed look. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Okay… Okay… I get it. England couldn't've done this… But then who else?"

Was England alright? Had something happened to him as well? A worried knot formed as he looked around, wishing that the older Nation was lying a few feet away from where the two stood; unconscious but safe and with them. Heck, he was even praying to hear the Brit's annoyed remarks as he came too, blaming it all on America. But he didn't see a head of sandy blonde hair, nor did he hear the familiar accent. And that knot he would not admit was present out loud, knotted tighter.

"I don't like the look of this bro…"

"Neither do I," he could see Canada raising his arms from the corner of his eye, wrapping around his chest as if Kumajiro was in his arms. Another twig snapped, and this time, America's hand flew to his side, to where his gun holster was hidden by his jacket. He drew the firearm without hesitation, aiming towards where the sound came from. He felt Canada shift closer, and in a matter of moments they were back to back. "You have to bring a gun with you everywhere, don't you?"

"Hey, its times like these where it comes in handy!" He glanced over his shoulder, seeing his brother shake his head in exasperation. America grinned more.

"Five seconds ago you were shaking like a baby," his brother chuckled, and the jab with done with affection; though that didn't stop America from pouting, just slightly.

"Aw, c'mon, I wasn't that scared!" Another snap and that brought their nervous chatter to a halt.

"You have another gun on you?" He shook his head, looking around. There was a giggle; America turning his head turned one side so quickly he cringed.

"Whose there!?" The giggle turned into laughter. And a shiver went down both their spines simultaneously. The chilling laughter echoing throughout the dark wooded area; and America was positive this laugh could rival even Russia's. Something he had always thought to be impossible. His eyes darted around, attempting to find the person the laugh belonged too, but it echoed all around them, ricocheting off the gnarled trees, going in every direction imaginable. Blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses, the American gripping the firearm tighter. "Come out!"

"And so," came an airy voice, a sense of familiarity registering in the back of America's mind. But he didn't know what it was. He had never heard this voice before… But where? "The little rabbits fell down the hole."

"Who are you?" Canada's soft voice drew his attention. Glancing back at his brother, before allowing his blue eyes to dart around the woods once again. Why hadn't he just brought two pistols with him? Sure it would have been Hell to get through security on the way there, but it would be worth it now. He was never leaving the house without two guns again. It was official.

"It'll be okay Canada," he whispered back. "I won't let anythin' happen to you."

"Likewise," came the whispered response. And had it been any other time, had it been a better situation, America would have retorted back, bantering a bit longer with his brother. But now was not the time, even the American was aware of that. He glanced around again, straining his ears to hear where the speaker was located.

"Down and down they fell," came another giggle. "Into this Wonderland, away from the lion, their protector."

Where was it coming from?

"The blue-eyed one, ever the bold brother, and the violet-eyed one, ever the reserved." The voice cooed, America whipping his head to one side. But there was nothing there. "Always the more thoughtful one, always thinking, that is the violet-eyed one. But the blue-eyed bunny. Oh how rash he is! Waving that silly weapon around." There was another chilling giggling, a chord of insanity shining through it. "But I know something you don't know, little rabbits~"

"And what's that!?" America barked, his eyes still darting around. Where the Hell could this person be hiding!? That giggle sounded again, and before he could register it, cold fingers had wrapped around his wrist.

"Your toys don't work in my Wonderland." He was flung to the side, a small yelp escaping him. Without meaning too, he let go of the firearm, his back slamming into one of the warped trees, the bark cracking as the American felt the wind knocked from his body. Canada screamed out to him, America barely having time to recover before choking, a foot becoming firmly planted against his windpipe. He struggled, gripping at the persons ankles as more pressure was added. Within moments, black spots had begun dotting his vision, blue eyes widening, staring up at the attacker. The figure was staring down at him, a hood pulled over their head, an ornate mask covering the upper part of their face. He could hear his brother shouting to him in the background, the American half wondering why his brother had not come to help him. But that question was at the very back of his hazy mind. The man was leaning down now, tilting his head to one side and staring at the young Nation in pure fascination. And another shudder went down his spine. This man's eyes were wide, crazed, staring out from beneath the mask unblinkingly. The masked man leaned closer, and the foot was removed. Coughing, America spluttered as he tried to gulp down as much air as he could, before the man threaded rough fingers into blond locks, yanking the American to his feet by his hair. He gripped the masked man's wrist, trying to break away, but he couldn't.

But that made no sense. America practically had super strength!

The masked man continued to stare at him with pure fascination, running his hand along the American's cheek. He looked about to say something, those crazed eyes so wide. But soon, soon his entire expression darkened.

"America!" Canada was fighting against something; he realized when he looked towards his brother. Another cloaked figure was holding him, the Canadian struggling to break away. America tried to speak, one hand rising to hold his right cheek, blood oozing between his fingers. The first man, the masked man, laughed again, rolling his head back to look at the cloaked figure holding his brother. "They're so silly, don't you think poppet? Such silly rabbits."

"Who are you?" His brother hissed, at the masked man turned his attention on him. He tilted his head, to one side.

"Stay away from him!" America hissed, but the masked man ignored him, walking towards his brother and the newcomer. He tilted his head more so, gazing at Canada.

"Both of you… You're faces…" Canada cried out, America rushing to his feet and knocking the two men away. The cloaked figure automatically let go of Canada, catching the masked man as he stumbled back. America glared, glancing at his brother. Blood ran down his left cheek, mirroring the blood that coated his own right. There was a wordless exchange, Canada nodding and America releasing a small sigh of relief. They were both okay so far…

His attention returned to the masked man as another chilling laugh echoed around them. He was leaning against the cloaked figure, a twisted smile on his face as he raised his hand, smearing a mix of America's and Canada's blood across the others face. "See? They're so silly, don't you think? The both of them. Heh, I plucked them right out from under the lions paw! That'll rile him up, don't you think so, poppet? Teach him a lesson, don't you think?"

The figure just turned their head in response, and America blanched as he saw whoever was beneath the cloak lick the blood off the masked man's fingers, before kissing his palm. The giggle sounded again, rippling in the air, but it died the moment he saw the brothers, that dark look crossing his features again. "But I can't stand the sight of either of them… Especially the blue-eyed one."

He leaned forward, kissing the underside of the cloaked figures jaw. "Kill them for me? Won't you poppet?"

The only response was a stiff nod. America reacted first, the moment his eyes caught sight of the glint of metal. He grabbed his brother's hand, breaking into a run and dragging him along. There was no way they could fight right now. Running was their only option, as much as America hated that fact.

That laughter echoed behind them, around them. "Ahaha, trying to run~ Think you can escape little doppelgangers?"

He did not even need to look over his shoulder to know that they were being pursued. The cloaked figure was following them, and he didn't dare slow his pace at all. Not even when Canada stumbled, though he was quick to regain his balance. In a few more strides they were running side-by-side, America still never releasing his grip on his brother's hand. It was then, and only then, that he spared a chance to look back.

"America!" His brother's shriek was the only thing he needed. He turned his head forward again, just in time to duck a blade.

"How the fuck did he get ahead of us!?" He shouted, taking a step or two back, blue eyes wide.

"Like I know!" Canada was pulling him now, in another direction. America glanced back again, heart pounding in his chest. This was just like the horror movies. Exactly like them. The man had only paused, but the American didn't need to see under the hood to know that he was staring after them. Gulping down a breath, he willed his heart to slow down, squeezing his brother's hand.

"We have to split up," he shouted, an almost amused smile tugging at his lips as he saw his brother do a double take. After all, it wasn't very often these days that America would slip into one of his Native tribe's languages. But he had a good feeling that their pursuers wouldn't be able to understand them this way. "I'll lead the guy away. You get someplace safe."

"No," the Canadian snapped, gripping his brothers hand even tighter. "We are not separating. You are not going to go and play hero and lead that guy away!"

"We have no other options," he replied calming, the two finally slowing to a stop, right in front of a fork in the dilapidated road. America eyed the two pathways, before looking at his brother. "We need to get out of this alive. I'm faster. I can out run him."

"Brother…"

"I'll be fine."

"How will we find one another after all this is done?"

"We just will." He grinned, squeezing his brother's hand. Canada gave him a skeptical look. America just continued grinning, taking the hand he held, placing it over his beating chest, before placing his own hand against the Canadians. There were no words spoken for a moment, violet eyes staring at the ground. "We can always find each other, brother. We always have been able too. So please."

Their connection, their bond, would lead them back to one another. America was sure of it.

"Brother…" There was a rustling, both brothers lowering their hands. America glanced at the sound, before pushing his brother towards the left path.

"GO!"

The Canadian hesitated for another moment, before nodding. He watched his brother run, Canada glancing over his shoulder. "If you get hurt, I-I swear to God!"

"I'll be alright!" America shouted after him, grinning still. "I'm a hero remember!?"

Even though he couldn't hear him, he knew his brother had to have mumbled something under his breath at the remark. America smiled just a little, before turning around. Their pursuer had caught up to them, America taking a deep breath. He had to buy time for Canada to at least get a good distance away. "Hey, still tryin' to catch me?"

The response was for the cloaked figure to rush forward. The Nation dove to one side, the sword slicing through his shirt. Rolling back to his feet, he glanced down, a scowl on his face. "Hey! That was my favorite t-shirt!"

The figure charged again, and this time America took off down the right path. He risked looking back, smiling inwardly upon seeing that the figure was pursuing him. Canada would be safe. Good. That was good. He looked ahead, leaping over fallen rocks. Now all he needed to do was lose the cloaked figure and he could go and find Canada, and then-

A small scream, more as a result of surprise, escaped him as fingers suddenly snatched him by the hair. He was yanked to a stop; America's hands flying back to grip the person's wrists, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Did you think you could out run us little rabbit?"

It was the masked man, an insane smile stretching across his face. One that rivaled, or even surpassed, Russia's (this guy just seemed to give the Russian a run for his money). America struggled against his hold, but the masked man held him with ease, 'tut'-ing in such an admonishing manner. The cloak figure approached them, the sword by their side. America struggled even more, glaring sharply at his two attackers. The masked man just chuckled again, trailing his free hand down the American's already bloody cheek. "This is my home. My domain. My personal Wonderland. You're so foolish little rabbit!"

He could not fight down the pained gasp, blue eyes widening as the man trailed his fingers through the cuts. The American could feel more tears form at the corners of his eyes, the masked man dragging his fingers through the cuts more, making them longer, wider, deeper. That dark look was back. "Your face… Too much like… I can't stand it…" He cocked his head to one side, before rolling his head back to look at the cloaked figure. "What do you think, poppet?"

But the cloaked figure said nothing, earning a small, childish almost pout. "Oh I wish you would speak once and a while. Like you use too…"

He looked back at the still struggling America, his face lighting up beneath that mask. As if a light bulb had gone off. That twisted smile remained as he leaned forward, dragging his tongue along his bloody cheek right to his ear. America fought down a cry, shuddering as hot breath brushed against his ear. "I'm going to tear your face off, little doppelganger, piece by piece."

He paused, lips against the shell of his ear. America struggled harder, clawing at the man's wrist in sheer desperation. Something he hated to admit. But a harsh tug forced a cry of pain that he could not keep. That voice cooing against his ear. "Would you like that poppet? Hmm? Shall I get rid of the little doppelgangers face?"

The fingers were trailing down his cheeks again. America's breath hitched. He could feel nails slicing into his cheek, starting at the corner of his right eye, trailing down to the lip of his jaw. He gritted his teeth, feeling the nails start another row. He fought down any pained cries; he would not give this enemy that satisfaction. He couldn't. "Oh the silly rabbit. Mm, the lion will be so sad."

But the man sounded gleeful, leaning down again. America fought down another cry as the tongue trailed against the cuts. "Poor little blue-eyed rabbit."

"Why are you doing this!?"

"Hmm?" He paused, cocking his head to one side, before giggling. "The lion began this! He interfered when he shouldn't have~"

He leaned back, rolling his head to the side before reaching those bloody fingers out. "And, I just can't stand look at your face."

The cloaked figure approached them, and America could finally get a look beneath the shadowed hood. There was another mask on the figures face, no, it was a man. He wore a mask, though simpler then the psycho holding onto his hair. The Nation could make out none of the figures features, only that there was still blood coating the side of his face. The masked man giggled again, reaching those bloody fingers out, smearing even more blood against the others face. The cloaked man's expression never changing. "Isn't it annoying poppet?"

But there was no other response besides the dull eyes peering at him from behind the mask. America glared sharply at them both, urging his limbs to work again. Fingers released his hair, shoving the young Nation forward. The masked man was looking at him with disgust, glancing at the cloaked figure. "Kill him."

The cloaked figure stepped forward, his sword already drawn. He could feel his mind race, eyes darting from side to side.

He rolled out of the way, to the side as the sword came down. Biting back a cry of pain as his bloodied cheek connected with the dirt. Shoving himself to his feet, he stumbled away from the two, earning another one of those chilling giggles. "Oh? Little bunny still has some fight left in him!" The giggle faded, a sharp tone overtaking the voice. "Doesn't he realize he can't get away?"

The blonde took another step back, but within a blink of an eye the masked man was in front of him. "I'm done playing little rabbit."

Scrambling back, he felt his heart once again lodge itself in his throat. Blue eyes darkened around again, America unable to fight down a small tremble. The cloaked man was approaching him, the masked man on the other side. He was trapped. "Stay still you filthy doppelganger."

Like Hell he would stay still! America darted in another direction, dodging a swipe of the sword. He kept running, avoiding the sounds of the two pursuers. He had promised Canada he would be alright, and he had already broken part of that promise. The wind stung at the cuts, but America ignored it. He ran faster and faster, stumbling over his own feet. He had to get out of here alive. He had to meet up with his brother. They had to find a way back to England's. Yeah, that was right. England was probably freaking out. And America was starving. What he wouldn't give for some of the Brit's cooking right about now…

Something leapt out at him, a small surprised yelp escaping him. The blond tumbled, before hitting the ground. Dirt again bit into his bloodied cheek, small tears trickling down the sides of his face. He scrambled, but something was holding onto him. He spun his head around, eyes wide. The shadows. The actual shadows from the forest, from the trees, had stretched out and caught him! They looked like hands, and it led America to fight down a small, unheroic, scream of terror. He flailed instead, thrashing his limbs as more shadows stretched out, inky black tendrils wrapping around him. He could hear that laugh echoing around them, and the laughter was getting close. This wasn't good. This wasn't-

A sudden light blinded him. America forgot about the shadows momentarily, arms shielding his eyes from the light. The shadows, he could hear them shriek, releasing his limbs. The light died down, America slowly sitting up, dropping his arms to his sides.

A little boy was in front of him, a green cloak pulled around his body. He was holding out his hands, a sphere of light hovering over them. The American tried to speak, blue eyes wide. The little boy… It couldn't be… But there was no mistaking it…

"En-England?"

The boy said nothing, holding the sphere to America. Slowly he extended his hands, cupping his larger hands beneath the little boys. It couldn't be England… England wasn't so tiny. But then, just who was it? Why did he look like England? He didn't understand…

"You do not belong here," whispered the young voice. "Take this, it will protect you."

The light was fading, and something solid landed in his hands as the little boy, little 'England', dropped it. He squinted, trying to see what it was, but the darkness of the forests had returned. He looked back at the little boy; he had paused, looking over his shoulder, before back at America. "Run, you must get out of these woods!"

"Wh-Who are you!? You aren't… You aren't England, right?" The little boy shook his head, America clenching the trinket in his hands. "Who are you then!?"

"I am your England, and yet I am not." The little boy responded, stepping away. "Now is not the time though. You must run, America. You must escape."

"Why… Why are you helping me?"

"It was his wish," the little 'England' replied, smiling before her turned, taking off down the path, the way America had come. The way those men were... America sat there for a moment longer, staring after him. Not quite registering what had just happened. But then it hit him, and the urgent tone became apparent as the boy's words replayed themselves over and over again. Stumbling back to his feet, he shoved the gift into his pocket, and taking off down the path, praying it would lead to an exit.

-

Welcome to chapter two of Blue Moon, and the introduction of the main villain, so to speak. His dialogue was a lot of fun to write~

I am not sure what to say here… As it is 5:30 am, and I really should be asleep… But I'm not.

So instead, I am just going to say, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. And again, feel free to leave a comment x3 I'm very happy to know people enjoyed the first chapter so much!

Right. Sleeping now~