Howdy! I dont' own APH. :)

"Come in."

Arthur swallowed heavily, and slowly walked into the room. He was met with James's grim, unsmiling face. With bated breath, he walked over to the chair and plopped into it, feeling very much like a school boy again, in trouble for kicking his older brother. Again. Arthur smiled meekly. Even though he was an adult, it still didn't make him any less nervous.

"Listen, Mr. Kirkland, you have a very promising future."

His heart sank.

"Please," He whispered, staring into the ground. All his brothers had gone to this school—if he didn't, it would bring shame to his family!

"Keep listening, Arthur." James still wasn't smiling. "You are a very bright young man, and it would be my pleasure to have you at this school."

His heart jumped into his throat. He didn't dare speak.

"But I'm sorry. You can't come to this college. I know your brothers very well, they all did magnificent. I'm sure you would've done the same. But there just isn't any space. You understand, of course?" He didn't look sorry at all.

Arthur couldn't breathe. He'd been told, every single day of his life, that he had to go to this school. This exact school. What could he do now? Go home, tail between his legs in shame? No. It wasn't an option.

Arthur stood, and said stonily, "Of course. I'm sorry for bothering you. Have a good day."

And then he walked out. He didn't look back once.

America had seemed like a very good idea at the time. Now he was sincerely regretting it.

"Derfla." Alfred growled, glaring up at the blond man, whom—Arthur realized with a start—looked exactly like Alfred. Except for the fact that his eyes were a brilliant red instead of glimmering, sky blue. "Nice of you to show your face, you coward."

He blinked at the strange name. Derfla?

Derfla smiled. "Nice to see you too, Al. I see you have a new pet." His vermillion-colored eyes swept over Arthur, lips curled in an amused smile. Arthur shivered. There was something wrong about Alfred's look-alike.

"Leave him alone, D." Alfred growled, arms tightening unconsciously around him. Arthur did his best to loosen his arms as he was crushed; Alfred was unusually strong. "He's completely mortal. Not related to me in the slightest."

Suddenly it seemed as though Derfla was about to become very mean; his eyes glittered menacingly. "That's what you said about Matthew."

That hit a nerve—a very, very sore nerve. "Don't you dare mention him! At all! He has—had—nothing to do with this!" Alfred very nearly dropped Arthur as he stood up. The Brit had to scramble aside as Alfred stalked forward, barely inches away from the chalk border. "Nothing!"

"Hm…I suppose that's what you said as I killed him, isn't it?" Derfla smirked again. Alfred blanched. "Poor big brother, trying to protect his little one. What do you think Matthew thought as his older brother murdered him?"

Alfred screamed. It occurred to Arthur, very suddenly, that if the chalk circle were to break they would both be dead. He lunged for Alfred's legs, just barely managing to keep him from stepping over. Alfred kept screaming in fury; "DON'T YOU DARE! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"

Derfla laughed. "It's your fault, you know? There you were, two little magic users. You were always more powerful than him, and you knew it. So you decided to show him the spell, didn't you? Isn't that right? You knew it was forbidden. But you got yourself ripped in half, and then the other you killed him. The guilt eating you alive, from the inside out." The laughter was high-pitched and cold; a thrill of horror passed through ARthur. "You foolish boy!"

Alfred let out another primal scream, twisting in Arthur's grasp. It was all he could do not to let go.

Derfla just kept laughing. Alfred kept screaming. Arthur just closed his eyes and tried to calm the infuriated man.

"No!" Alfred shouted, his feet kicking about. "No, let me…" Derfla began to vanish into the shadows, still smirking widely. "NO! Let me go, I can't let him escape! Please…" He began to sob, slowly sinking to the floor. "Let me go…"

"Alfred, please." Arthur whispered, reaching out to hug him—he really, really looked like he needed a hug right now…it was an act of cruelty for the Alfred look-a-like to mention his brother like that. Considering Alfred's reaction… "He was provoking you. Please calm down."

"I loved him. My little brother…Mattie…" Alfred sobbed, putting his head into his hands. "I was—you know—trying to show off. We weren't supposed to do a spell that powerful, but I…I thought it wouldn't work, since we're not fully grown, and we didn't have the right kind of intent. I just wanted to show off…because I knew it. I was so stupid. So, so stupid…" He trailed off, letting out another choked sob. "And it—it—"

"It worked." Arthur said quietly.

"It killed him—I watched him—me—kill him, and I…every Halloween..." Alfred leaned in closer to Arthur. "He comes…"

Arthur didn't quite know what to say; he'd never been very good at comforting other people—his own emotions were hard enough to deal with. All his brothers were still alive—ornery and annoying, yes, but still alive. He couldn't actually imagine killinghis brother, or even watching himself kill his brother. It was unthinkable and…traumatic. And he was no psychiatrist. He couldn't possibly help Alfred, especially because he couldn't imagine what he was going through.

But Alfred appeared to be made of stronger stuff. He breathed in a long, shuddering breath, and gave Arthur a watery smile. "Sorry about that…it's just, it was my fault, you know? Mattie was like my other half." He nodded towards the nightmarish dogs still circling. "They're all…I mean, they're all mindless beasts, but…they were once people."

Arthur gasped. "P-people?" They looked more doglike than human—and not even that. They were monsters.

"Well, sort of. Derfla took the brains out of dead people, enslaved them, and put them into the hellhounds. See that one?" He pointed to a hound with poisonous purple eyes. "That was…my brother. He was Mattie. These are all the people who died because I let Derfla out."

Arthur, horrified, looked around, counting. 1…2…3…4…5… There were more, he could tell, out of sight, they're skins rippling with muscle and black skin...it was too terrible. He didn't dare speak.

"I always…always try to save them. But they never listen…never. But I'm kind of glad they follow me around—" Arthur turned his horrified, pasty face to stare at Alfred, "—it reminds me of my mistakes…" He trailed off. "Actually," Alfred turned his red-rimmed eyes to stare curiously at Arthur. "Why did you follow me? You seemed pretty adamant about not going with me."

"There was a crashing noise." Arthur said thoughtfully, trying to remember exactly what happened. "It was very convincing."

Alfred's mouth dropped. "No normal human has ever heard them before, especially during the daytime…"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably under Alfred's scrutinizing gaze. "So what if I can? I've always been able to hear weird stuff, there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Alfred's eyes widened. "Can you see them?"

Slowly, he shook his head. Looking relieved, Alfred slumped against the ground. "That's…good. That's good. It means you've got a strong magical signature, but not strong enough to actually see anything, or touch anything. Unless it's nighttime, of course—everything becomes clean at night. No, not clean. Clear. Everything is so…clear. During the daytime, they're not as strong, so they can't touch you unless you have a really, really strong magical sig."

Arthur frowned softly. "And you do?"

Alfred stared at him for a minute, and then let out a short laugh. "Okay, Artie, think of it like this. A hellhound—like one of those ugly bastards over there—they're a…machine gun, I guess. A normal human is a bow and arrow compared to them. Someone like you is a revolver."

"And what about you?"

"I suppose…" He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm…a tank. I think. Yeah, that's what I am. Really powerful, really tough, but not as fast." Arthur could tell, without a doubt, that Alfred was grinning—he seemed to enjoy the idea of himself being something big and powerful.

"What was…" Arthur paused, unsure. "Matthew?"

Alfred froze. "I…he…was a bazooka. Not as powerful. Not as tough. Not as…"

Arthur sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, knowing now was the best time to change the subject. "Why does he call himself Derfla? It's really, really weird."

Obviously happy with the change of subject, Alfred looked over and gave Arthur an incredulous look. "You haven't figured it out? Say it backwards."

"Derfla…Alf—" Arthur stopped dead. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Hm. That's…interesting."

"That's what I said. Only, you know, I was screaming."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Arthur blinked. "There's so much I don't know about you. I've never met anyone who's as closed up as you."

He let out a soft, gentle laugh. "I like to keep it that way. Why don't we go to sleep, okay?"

Arthur stared out at the hellhounds, and then turned to look incredulously at Alfred. "How can you even think of sleeping with those things walking around you? They give me the shivers." And, just to prove his point, he shuddered violently.

"The night passes very slowly when you're terrified," Alfred grinned at Arthur's expression. "You can stay up as late as you like, but I am not wasting any sleep over this situation. Okay? G'night."

Arthur watched, bemused, as Alfred turned over and curled into a ball. "So we're just going to sleep here? In the middle of the street?"

"Yup."

"Can they get through?"

Alfred shifted. "Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Good night, Arthur."

"Are you sure?" His voice became more insistent.

"I'm completely positive, as long as some idiot doesn't come and mess up my circle. Now good night."

There was a long, peaceful pause.

"How long will they stay here?"

Alfred groaned.

Arthur fell asleep seconds later.

He supposed it was for the best he'd never gotten into that pompous, fancy English school. Because then he would've never met Alfred—who became a very good friend of his. Arthur couldn't bear to let him deal with every Halloween by himself, and had decided that Alfred could use a roommate to keep him in line. Thing happened; lives were lost, Arthur nearly got killed, and Alfred just cried. But in the end, it all worked out. Except for the fact that Alfred kept bringing all these girls home, which he really didn't like at all, but they were all practically throwing themselves onto him. This all ended abruptly when Arthur became extremely angry and snogged him in public.

Violently.

They never did get rid of Derfla. They were just not afraid of him anymore. That, and there was that one Halloween where Arthur stepped outside of the church they were in and punched the demon in the nose. He left them alone after that incident.

Alfred likes to brag about his little, 'Spit-fire Brit'. To everyone and everything that will sit still long enough to hear the tale of their meeting.

Arthur did get to meet Mattie, once. The little Canadian had come back as a ghost to see his brother one last time, and—well—was quite surprised to find that his brother had settled down into a tank-like house with a very confusing interior that would've left the best of men reeling.

Arthur is currently working as a peer mediator in the middle school nearby—he says that his meeting with Alfred 'inspired' him.

Alfred is working in the Witness Protection Program. He says he likes giving people double identities—says it makes him feel like he's not the only one anymore, whatever that means.

So I looked back at the last chapter, and I'm like, 'WTF was I thinking at that exact moment?' Because I'd promised to write the second half of Smug K, and I hadn't responded to any of my reviews. Also, I was just acting plain weird.

All I can say is that it was probably really late and I was under a lot of stress. I kinda...snap, if I get like that. But now that school's out, I can focus on my big-super-massive-project! I'll post a preview at the bottom. Haha. Anyway, so I'm going to post 5 more chapters after this one-the new SMUG K, Fairytales, Detective FAIL, Bite me, and Flop, before going into a temporary hiatus. Unless, of course, I get any requests. But otherwise, this is it. I'll be completing this story at 100 shots, but it'll be on temp hiatus so I don't have to worry about it while writing the really big project. But seriously, if you have any requests, let me know now. Because as soon as I post Flop, it's going temp hiatus. Capiche?

Reviews (For chapters 38 and 39):

pengirl100and2: Aw, thanks! I thought it was cute, too...though I'm not that good at writing cute...

Vampchick2010: I'm a big USUK fan, either way. I'm glad that I 'ave managed to infect you with the bug. It's loads of fun. :) Oh, and thanks for being the only person to review chapter 39!

Angel-chan desu: No prob. I was having major writer's block at that point, but you made it all better. :) And the project preview is at the bottom!

Alright, here is the very first part of the prologue of the ultra-super-massive project I've been working on! Enjoy.

Hello.

If you're listening to this, either I'm dead or you just stumbled on one of my best kept secrets—somehow. I don't know how, and I don't want to know.

Either way, you're going to know the truth.

If I'm dead, it means that the worst case scenario has come to pass, and you're going to need everything you can get to prepare. In the following message, I've included everything you need to know about the growing threat. If you just stumbled upon this and I'm alive, then…well…I suppose this is either a warning or simply a super-heroic tale of kick-ass!

Now, where should I start?

Let me think…I guess the beginning should work.

My name is Alfred F. Jones. I also am the soul—and by soul, I mean walking, talking, hamburger-chowing essence—of the United States of America.

And here is my story.

:D

So what'd you think?

Thanks,

IceEckos12