Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia . . . yet.
A/N: We apologize if the characters seem OOC in this chapter, we're trying our best. We have a special guest today! Or so she says. We apologize for our character of Native America. She doesn't play a big part in the story so we only made one character instead of making separate ones for every tribe. And we had already created the character before the matter was brought up. We do not mean to offend anyone in anyway and we apologize for any of the insults used in the story! It is not meant to be directed to anyone, it only serves the story's purpose.
This chapter might seem boring, but we have two long chapters in the process of editing that we hope to post tomorrow!
Review if you have anything to say!
What are big brothers for?
A knock on the door interrupted Russia's concentration. He straightened up from the television screen he had been watching and glared at the human. Agent Orlov stood in the doorway holding a phone.
"Godspodin Russia, forgive me for interrupting."
"Da, what is it?" Russia asked. He wanted to return to the TVs to find America.
"Godspodin Canada is on the phone for you." Russia perked up at this. "He says it is very important that he speaks to you immediately.
"Da, I will take the call." Russia accepted the phone from the agent and composed himself before speaking into it. "Privet, Canada."
"Hello, Russia, how are you?" Canada's soft voice warbled over the phone. Russia winced. It must have been the snow storm that was currently growing outside.
"I am good, spasibo. Why are you calling me so soon after leaving my country? Not that I do not appreciate your call." Canada was quiet before answering.
"Well . . . America's missing! Kuma says that he didn't leave the hotel before I did so I was wondering you had seen him in your country."
"Net, I have not seen him. And I have not kidnapped him," Russia added quickly.
"O-Okay. Well, um, I'm actually on my way to Russia right now to look for America." Russia thought for a moment. It would be better if he had more people to help him look for America and who better than Canada?
"That is fine. I will help you search. There will be someone to pick you up at the airport when you land."
"Thank you, Russia!" Canada sounded relieved, even close to tears, over the phone.
"Ne za chto (it's my pleasure), proshchayte (goodbye)." Russia closed the phone before turning to Agent Orlov. "I want you to go pick Canada up from the airport when his plane lands. Call me if there is a problem." He handed the agent back the phone.
"Da, ser." Agent Orlov accepted the phone and left the room. She needed to find out which airport Canada would be landing at. Russia turned back to the television screens with higher spirits.
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A blizzard had caused Canada's plane to land in Copenhagen, Denmark until it subsided. That was how the North American nation found himself standing in the bustling airport in Copenhagen, a cell phone pressed to his ear. He waited patiently for the person on the other end of the line to pick up.
"Hallo?" Denmark answered and Canada gave an inward sigh of relief. He did not want to be stuck in the airport all night.
"Hi, Denmark, it's Canada."
"Oh, hej, Canada! What can I do for ya?" Denmark asked happily.
"Well, I'm stuck at an airport in Copenhagen because of this blizzard," Canada explained. "And I have nowhere to go . . . I was wondering if, maybe, I could stay at your place before I head over to Russia." On the other end of the phone Denmark grinned. He nodded to Norway and Sweden.
"Ja, of course ya can come over!" Norway raised an eyebrow, the closest sign he would give to excitement. "Why would I leave family out in the cold? I'll come pick ya up. Just stay put and stay warm!" Denmark hung up the phone and turned to his fellow Vikings.
"This is too easy!"
In the Copenhagen airport Canada looked at his phone, confused. 'Family? Whatever, at least I'm not staying in a hotel tonight.'
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Denmark opened the door for Canada, leading him into the warm house, and slammed it shut after him, sending snow flurries dancing into the house.
"Are ya cold, Canada?" Denmark asked. "I bet Sve and Norge have made some nice hot chocolate for ya." He shed his winter gear, tossing them carelessly into the hall closet.
"I'm alright. I'm used to cold weather, since I live so far north. I don't need any hot chocolate." Canada shrugged off his coat and unwound his scarf from his neck. Denmark took the winter clothes and hung them in the closet beside Norway's.
"Thanks for having me," Canada said. Denmark flashed him a wide grin.
"It's no problem. Why were you at the airport anyway?" Denmark asked curiously.
"Oh, I'm going to Russia."
"Why are ya going ta Russia's? Isn't it a bit dangerous?"
"Oh . . . well . . . promise not tell anyone?" Canada asked, shuffling nervously. Denmark blinked but leaned forward with interest. What was Canada hiding from him?
"Ja, I promise not ta tell anyone," Denmark assured the younger nation.
"It's just . . . America's gone missing." Canada wrung his hands. Should he really be telling Denmark about this? "You can't tell anyone. They would try to take advantage of his absence."
"He's gone missing, huh?" Denmark's eyes shone mischievously. "That's too bad. I won't tell anyone. They don't need to know. But why are ya going ta Russia's house?"
Canada sighed in relief. "Kuma said that America never left the hotel," he told Denmark. The tall nation straightened up, cocking his head.
"Well that's not good. So ya want ta go ta Russia's ta see if ya can find America there?" Denmark asked.
"Yeah, I left Kuma at home, though. He didn't want to go back to Russia so soon after leaving."
"I get why. It's the worst country possible," Denmark said. Canada shook his head.
"Not really, I get along with Russia just fine."
"What are you doing keeping our guest in the entrance like that?" Norway stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his arms crossed. Denmark grinned sheepishly at his friend.
"Hey, Norway!" Canada said. Norway nodded a greeting. His eyes flashed to Denmark who gave a slight nod, his eyes lit with excitement. Denmark masked the actions with a chuckle.
"Sorry about that, Canada."
"It's alright," Canada assured him. "I get that a lot from America." He followed the two Scandinavian nations into the kitchen. "Thanks again for letting me stay."
"It's no problem," Denmark said. "Norway wanted ta leave ya outside in the cold for the night." Canada's eyes widened and Norway glared at Denmark.
"Shut up, brother." Norway turned to Canada. "I did not, Canada," he said reassuringly. Canada chuckled weakly.
"O-Okay."
"Do you want some hot chocolate?" Norway offered the younger nation a steaming mug of the drink.
"I'm good," Canada said. "Thanks anyway."
"Hm, I really think you should try it," Norway said. "Den and Sve love hot chocolate. Personally I only like it with a good book."
"U-Um, if you say so." Canada accepted the mug but didn't take a sip. "How are you doing, Norway?"
"I'm fine. But my friends don't seem to be doing so well. Some of them have gotten sick. Of course, my troll is fine." Denmark rolled his eyes.
"Trust Norge ta carry on about nonexistent creatures." Canada laughed weakly and set his mug of hot chocolate on the kitchen table.
"It's not that bad. America's scared of ghosts. England used to tell him ghost stories when America was his colony." Denmark frowned in displeasure.
"He used ta tell him ghost stores? What kind of father does that? I knew we should have kept ya." Canada gaped at him.
"Kept us?" He repeated softly. "What are you talking about?" Norway took a deep, calming breath.
"You and your brother were born earlier than people think, from our first settlement in Canada. You are originally Scandinavian," he said. Canada frowned at him.
"Jeg visste det. (I knew that.)" Canada said in Norwegian. "I've visited the ruins of the settlements before."
"So ya do know about us," Denmark said. "And ya even speak our languages. That's great! It'll be easy getting ya back." He chuckled warmly at the thought. His Little Canada knew about his real heritage.
"Ja," Canada said in Danish. "I speak French, Norwaegian, Danish, and Swed-" Canada stopped. "Wait! What do you mean 'getting me back'?"
"You're our son, Canada," Norway said soothingly, stepping forward. Sweden appeared in the doorway behind Canada, effectively cutting off his escape route. "We just want to spend some time with you."
"What are you talking about?" Canada demanded. Unconsciously he was backing away from the approaching nation. "You're not making any sense."
"Nothing is wrong with us, Canada. We simply want ta spend some quality time with our sons." Denmark stepped forward, boxing Canada in.
"Sons? You've never considered me as a son." Canada's eyes flicked between the Scandinavians. A headache was growing in the very front of his brain.
"Why do ya think I protected America?" Denmark crossed his arms. "It's because ya two are my sons. If it had been ya I would have done the same thing." Canada's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You kidnapped America, didn't you?" The pounding was steadily growing.
"So, what if we did?" Denmark smirked. "He's our kid." Canada was visibly shaking with rage now. Denmark couldn't help but think how cute the nation looked when he was angry.
"No . . ." Canada growled. "He's . . . NOT!" He leapt at Denmark, his hands outstretched. "What did you do to my brother?" Denmark shoved him back into the center of the triangle.
"What we needed ta," Denmark said.
"Argh!" Canada lunged forward, swinging a fist at Denmark. "Skiderik! (Bastard!)"
"Møgunge! (Brat!)" Denmark snarled, slamming a fist into Canada's cheek. Canada stumbled backward. A giggle bubbled form his lips and he looked up at Denmark with a crazy look on his face. Denmark balked; he had seen the look before.
"You think that's going to stop me, Skiderik?" Canada had a wild look in his eyes. Norway and Sweden tensed, glancing to Denmark who could only stare at Canada. "America and I are a lot more dangerous than you think. I'm not as strong as America but I'm stronger than you and there's a good reason why America won't watch hockey with me." Canada lunged forward, shocking Denmark out of his daze. Sweden reacted first, seizing Canada by the shoulders and pinning him to the floor. Denmark sat on the young nation's thighs, immobilizing his legs, and pinned his hands with his own.
"Ya may be strong, but we're Vikings." Denmark gave Canada a feral grin that could have cowed a hungry bear. Canada returned the grin with one of his own, only slightly crazier.
"You think you can stop me? You're the ones who sent Vikings to us and gave us our strength." Canada thrashed wildly in Denmark and Sweden's grip. Norway approached holding a syringe of liquid.
"We should have guessed he would have been as strong as America," Norway said.
"Maple!" Canada thrashed harder at the sight of the syringe. "Get off me!"
"Calm down, Canada." Norway injected the struggling nation with the drug. "It's just something to help you sleep."
Canada thrashed until the drug took effect. His eyelids flickered and he smiled lazily, giggling. "Well . . . maple." His head hit the floor and his breathing evened out.
"Sweet dreams, my little koloni." Norway smoothed Canada's hair back. He stared at the sleeping nation before looking at Denmark. "Dan, what was that? I've never seen him act that way." Denmark didn't answer. "Dan?"
"Berserker blood," Denmark said. "Ya remember when I would take those drugs that would make me a crazy warrior. I think that's what happened ta him. He and America must both lose control sometimes, kind of like temper tantrums. That must have been what happened ta America with Cuba."
"When Canada burned Washington D.C. down?" Norway asked. Denmark nodded. "Should we be worried about it?"
"Nej, if we keep them drugged, they'll stay calm."
"Good," Norway stood, brushing his knees clean. "I don't want to have to hurt them." He smiled fondly at the sleeping nation. "Let's get him to his bedroom, Sve." Sweden nodded, lifting Canada effortlessly into his arms. They walked slowly down the hallway to the bedroom.
'Welcome home, Canada,' Norway thought with a small smile.
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Iceland stepped down the last step of the city bus and looked down the empty streets of Denmark.
"I'm finally back. I don't get why Dan wanted us all at his house," Iceland wondered aloud. He began to make his way in the direction of Denmark's house.
"Maybe the drunk guy just wants to hang out with all of ya," Mr. Puffin said from his perch on Iceland's shoulder. The small bird was hunkered down, trying to stay out of the cold snow.
"Oh, shut up," Iceland muttered. He could feel a vein throbbing in his temple.
"I'm just helping," Mr. Puffin huffed at him. "See if I ever try that again."
"Not like you would," Iceland grumbled. "And you call that helping? You're useless. I don't see why I keep you around."
"Keep talking, tough guy, and see what happens." Mr. Puffin ruffled his feathers agitatedly. Iceland ignored him but stopped, spotting the tire tracks leading up to Denmark's house.
"Huh, I wonder where Dan went." Mr. Puffin shivered in the cold.
"Who cares, let's just get inside and get warm." Iceland rolled his eyes but walked up the driveway and entered the house.
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Canada groaned as he woke up. His whole body ached and a headache pounded at the inside of his skull. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on a bed with America sleeping in a bed next to him.
"America?" Canada croaked. His older brother's eyes snapped open. Okay, maybe he wasn't sleeping.
"Canada, you're awake! They brought you here hours ago. Did you really go berserk on them?" America asked with an excited grin. Canada gave him a small smile. So that was why he was so sore, he'd thrown a temper tantrum. Canada could remember one day when both he and America went berserk at each other. The fight had lasted days until France and England had arrived to investigate the commotion and stopped them.
"Yeah," Canada said softly. America cackled with glee.
"Awesome!"
"You sound like Prussia."
"Uh-oh." They both broke down into laughter. Once they'd calmed down Canada got serious.
"America, do you know why we're here?" he asked softly. Canada wasn't sure if America had been filled in on the situation they were in. America's laughing petered down to a stop.
"They think we're their kids," America said, his voice growing more and more hysterical as he talked. "And so they're going to kidnap all of the nations and it's going to start World War Three and then the world is going to end and it's going to be worse than the time I accidently let all those aliens into Earth and-" Canada couldn't take anymore.
"Brother!" America stopped blabbering when Canada spoke in Cherokee. He visibly calmed down at the familiar language. "Calm down, brother .Yes, we are their sons but they're not going to start World War Three."
"Yes, they will," America whimpered. Canada sighed.
"No, they won't. Even Denmark isn't that stupid."
"Are you sure?" They broke down into quiet giggles.
"Brother?" Canada asked once they'd calmed down.
"Yeah?" America turned his head to look at him.
"Do you know someone named South?" America didn't answer at first.
"Details not important." Canada's heart leapt.
"You do! Who is she?" he asked in English. America groaned in defeat.
"She's the Confederate States of America, my baby sister."
"The Confederacy? But how is she still alive?" Canada wondered aloud.
"Southern Pride still lives, although I don't know if flying the Confederate flag counts."
"Is she . . . bipolar?" Canada couldn't find a better word for it. America chuckled.
"Yeah, she is. It's an after-effect of the war."
"What about the bear?"
"Smokey? He's there to take care of her when I'm not around. She forgets about him a lot."
"Why doesn't she hate you? She's the Confederacy."
"It's a long story," America said.
"We're not going anywhere," Canada pointed out and America sighed.
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The field was covered in bodies from the first Battle of Bull Run. A small girl, three years old by the looks of it, lay at the base of a tree, covered in injuries. She sobbed into her arms. They had done it! The Confederacy had won the battle, but at a cost. The girl was badly injured and her people had not come to help her yet.
The crunching of approaching boots made the girl gasp and freeze. Had her people come back? When she peeked over her arms she saw two men. One of the men looked more like a teenager, at least seventeen years old, why the other man was much older. The boy knelt beside her while the man watched the little girl with pity.
"Hello, I'm America," the boy said, offering his hand out. The girl shrank back with a whimper.
"I don't know any America. I'm the Confederate States of America," the Confederacy froze. "Wait, you're America?" she began panicking, trying to run on her crippled legs. America gently grabbed her and held her to his chest.
"Yes, I'm the United States of America, your big brother. Why are you out here and not with your people?" America asked gently. The Confederacy stopped trying to run and slowly looked up at him.
"They forgot about me." She broke down into tears again. "They don't even know I exist." America blinked in surprise, looking back at the older man who shrugged.
"Didn't you go to Beauregard?" America thought the Confederate's general should have met his nation's personification.
"I tried. He didn't even look at me." The Confederacy sniffed and then paused. "Why are you helpin' me? We're enemies; we're supposed to hate each other." America smiled down at her.
"Details aren't that important," he said. Standing with her in his arms, America turned to his general. "Can I keep her, Irvin?" he asked excitedly. General McDowell looked between the brother and sister and sighed, shrugging.
"She's your problem," the general said. "The Rebels come looking for her, she's going straight back. I don't want any more trouble." America grinned.
"Thanks, General McDowell!" he said. General McDowell turned away and led them off the field; America followed him, limping with every step.
"Big brother, North?" The Confederacy looked up into America's face.
"Yes, South?" America smiled down at his little sister warmly.
"Are you hurt?" the Confederacy asked worriedly.
"Yeah," America winced. "But I'll be alright. I need take care of your injuries. Because that's what big brothers do. They take care of their baby sisters and protect them."
"You're goin' to take care of me?" the girl asked with wide eyes.
"Yes, I am, for the rest of your life." America kissed her forehead. "I will never leave you." The Confederacy laid her head on America's shoulder.
"I love you, big brother."
"I love you too, sis."
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"You took her in?" Canada asked in astonishment. America nodded.
"Sure," he said. "She was injured and I had to protect her."
"What happened later?" Canada asked curiously.
"South was scared she was going to die, so she returned to the Rebels. We fought against each other in every battle of the Civil War. Soldiers would have to drag us away from each other when the battle was done. In the first battle of Gettysburg she stabbed both my legs with her bayonet and the doctors wanted to amputate them. During the third battle I marched across the battle field and kicked her in the shins just to prove I could." Canada laughed.
"What happened after the war?" he asked.
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The field was riddled with bodies as America strode across it; the Rio Grande flowed noisily nearby. America stopped, standing over a coughing soldier. Her face was caked with blood from the bullet wound to her head. She looked seventeen years old now.
"It's over, Rebel," America said. He hadn't called his sister by her nickname since she had left him. "I win." The Confederacy gave a gurgling chuckle. America scowled in disgust.
"You know what's funny, Yankee?" she asked.
"What?" America briefly contemplated leaving his sister on the battlefield.
"We always seem to meet when I win the battle. Just proves that I'm better than you." The Confederacy struggled to keep her eyes open. "I'll never leave, I'll be here forever." America's face softened and he knelt beside his sister.
"Sure you will, South," he pulled her into his lap. "And I'll be by your side. What are big brothers for?" South thought for a moment.
"Hm, they're for teasin' and talkin' into doin' what you want," she said.
"And baby sisters are there to annoy their older brothers until they lock them in the closet." America held South close.
"You'll never get away from me, big brother." America buried his face in her shoulder.
"And I'll never try to get away from you, South. I love you so much."
"I love you too, North. Hey, when am I goin' to die?" South asked. "I just want to know. Even though we won the battle, I know we lost the war. Maybe I can enjoy my last few days."
"You're never going to die. Because those Rebels out there and their children, and their children's children are still going to want to have won the Civil War. The South's Pride will live on and so will you."
"Why are you helpin' me?" South looked at America with a serious face. Her brother gave her a warm smile.
"Details . . . not important."
"Hm." South closed her eyes and smiled peacefully.
"I wish I was in the land of cotton,
Old times they are not forgotten;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land where I was born,
Early on one frosty mornin,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Old Missus marry "Will-de-weaber,"
Willium was a gay deceaber;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land."
The song trailed away as South fell asleep. America smiled and stood with her in his arms.
"But when he put his arm around'er,
He smiled as fierce as a forty-pound'er,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land."
America left the battlefield with his baby sister in his arms.
"Dar's buck-wheat cakes an 'Ingen' batter,
Makes you fat or a little fatter;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Den hoe it down an scratch your grabble,
To Dixie land I'm bound to trabble.
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land."
South sighed contentedly in his arms.
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Canada didn't know what to say. ". . . Wow, that's amazing." America chuckled.
"Yeah, and you wouldn't believe the adventures we had afterward."
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America cowered behind a fallen log on the field of Gettysburg years later while shots rang behind him.
"They're not there . . ." he muttered to himself. "They're not there . . . they're no-" A shot bounced of the log he was hiding behind and he whimpered, ducking. A female voice rang out across the field with laughter.
"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on."
"When are you goin' to get your ass out here, North?" South called. "I can't do this all on my own, you know!"
"When all the ghosts are gone!" America shouted. Unlike her brother, South wasn't afraid of ghosts. America figured it was because most of the Civil War battlefields were haunted . . . and because of Savannah. South stopped dancing and whirled around to face him, planting her hands on her hips.
"Don't you dare start talkin' to me like that, boy," South said in her rolling accent. "Or I will whup you into next week!" America considered it for a moment. Face creepy ghosts or the wrath of his sister? He made a decision.
"Alright, let's go yonder and whup some Gettysburg ghost butt," America said, his accent changing to a southern twang. He loaded and cocked his shotgun.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" South whirled around, kicking a ghost in the face. "Back off, boys! South has come to play!"
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America smiled fondly at the memory. "South has her own brand of crazy."
"Eh?" Canada asked, confused. "What do you mean?"
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"You can't make me!" South struggled as America tried to pull her out the front door. "I won't leave this house until I see that sun risin' in the east."
"Come on, South, it was just a movie!"
"I don't care! I'd rather starve! Did you see that man? If I died tonight it would your fault. I don't care how innocent you seem! I am not leaving!" Fed up with his sister, America released her.
"Fine!" America snapped. "I'll go to the store myself and you can stay in this old, creaky house alone!" South froze.
"Eh?" she asked in surprise. "What? You bowed up, big bread basketed, no 'count, ornery, out of kilter, piddlin' varmint! You darn tootin' ain't goin' to leave me here! Are you fixin' to get me killed?" America stifled a laugh.
"Wow . . . that was a lot of insults, South. What are they teaching you in your etiquette classes?" he asked.
"Not to go leavin' your sisters to be massacred by a man with a chainsaw in the middle of the night in Texas!" America cracked up laughing.
"Alright, alright, let's go already. I'm starving and we've got nothing to eat."
"Give me your jacket." South held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. America frowned. Part with his precious jacket? If it was the only way to get his sister out of the house. He sighed, shrugging out of the jacket.
"Fine, here." He handed her his jacket. South took it and pulled it on, zipping it up all the way. "Why do you want it?" America asked curiously.
"Now he won't know I'm a girl, he'll think I'm a boy." South looked confident with her reasoning. America smothered his laughter
"If you say so, let's go." America pulled South out the door. South clutched his hand like a lifeline, looking around herself suspiciously.
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"Um, where did she get the violent black bear?" Canada asked curiously. America cracked up laughing.
"Oh, that's a good story!"
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"North, North, NORTH!" South collided with America while she was running to look for him.
"Oof!" America pushed his sister back a step, massaging his stomach. "What?"
"Look what followed me home!" South held up a small black bear in America's face. America blinked, staring at the bear. It looked at him, as though thinking.
"What the hell is this pile of useless junk?" the bear asked.
"Can I keep him?" South asked excitedly. America gaped at the bear as a bald eagle fluttered onto his shoulder, glaring at the black bear.
"South, the thing is . . . I don't even know what to say."
"What's with the big chicken?" the bear cocked his head. The eagle screeched angrily, fanning its wings.
"Easy, Freedom!" America soothed the bird. "South, I don't know if I want that around the house."
"But I love him!" South wailed, hugging bear tightly and strangling it. Freedom cooed softly, chuckling.
"I don't know, South . . ."
"BUT I LOVE HIM!" South screeched. The bear struggled in her arms.
"SOUTH! Put him down. You're strangling him." Reluctantly South released the bear.
"I'm goin' to name him Smokey, after that bear cub you rescued from the forest fire!" South said excitedly. America groaned and Freedom screeched in annoyance.
"Alright, but you have to take care of him."
"I will, North, don't worry!" South froze then slowly looked down at the bear. "Who are you?" she asked. America gaped at his sister.
"You have got to be kidding!"
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"She forgot about the bear right away?" Canada asked in shock.
"Yep, she has poor memory for Smokey. That and her bipolar attitude come from the bullet wound to the head she got during the Civil War."
"That's terrible! Who else knows about her?" America thought for a moment.
"Belarus and Lithuania met her when they stayed at my house. You met her . . . two days ago?" America estimated.
"Somewhere around there," Canada agreed.
"And Germany and Prussia had an . . . interesting encounter with her."
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The marines were fighting the Germans in the Belleau Wood. America and South were cut off from their regiment, fighting Germany and Prussia. South fired a shot at Germany from behind their fallen log. Germany dove behind a tree, landing beside Prussia.
"Sit still, you no 'count yaller dog!" South shouted at him.
"Go back, Yankee! You and America are the only men in this area!" America stifled a laugh.
"He called you a guy," he chuckled. South cackled loudly.
"He called me a gentleman! I ain't no gentleman!" She fired a shot at Prussia.
"Verdammt!" Prussia ducked back behind the Germans' tree. America cocked his gun and fired at the brothers.
"Hey, North!" South continued firing at the German brothers.
"Yeah, South?" America aimed and fired when Prussia peeked out.
"Remember that one game at the county fair where you try to shoot the groundhog?" South asked
"Yeah, what about it?" America cocked his gun.
"Well, brother," South fired at Germany's head. "It seems like we're playin' it right now."
"Yeah, I guess we are." America pulled the trigger but nothing happened. "Shit! South, give me some ammo. I'm out!" South dug in her pockets.
"My pockets are empty. All I got is in what's in my gun."
"Crap! Keep firing, I'll think of something to do." South glanced back to the German brothers.
"Where did our groundhogs go? They sure are wimpy," South commented. America peeked over the log.
"Hey, East and West, are you still there?" he called.
"It's Prussia, America!" Prussia shouted back.
"Yep, they're still there, just hiding."
"Come on, North, I want to have some fun. Get out here, you good for nothin', squabin' can't fire a gun Germans!"
"South, that won't work. Call Prussia "East" and un-awesome."
"Hey, un-awesome East, where are you?" Prussia popped up from his hiding spot, shrugging Germany off him when his younger brother tried to pull him down.
"Hey! I'm as awesome as they come! And it's Prussia!"
"See, I told you." South cackled and fired at Prussia's head.
"Empty headed pig!"
"Gah!" Prussia ducked behind the tree again. It was quiet for a moment, then they heard Germany.
"Dummkopf!" South fell over laughing.
"That was too good! Come out so I can do it again!"
"Nein! Fool me once shame on you!" Prussia shouted.
"Bruder!" Germany yelled.
"Fool you twice shame on you," South retorted. "But the shame really is on you. You're so un-awesome you fell for that trick. Idiot." Prussia stood up again.
"I am not!"
"Dummkopf!" Germany tackled his older brother down. South attempted to fire again. When it failed she stood and hurled the gun at Prussia, hitting him on the head.
"I got him!" she cried. "I got him! Did you see that, North?"
"Ouch!" Prussia shouted. "Hey! No throwing guns! It could go off!"
"Yeah, nice throw! But now we're all out of ammo and guns."
"Wait, what? Where'd my gun go?" America gaped at his sister.
". . . Seriously? You have to do this now?"
"Do what?" South asked "Where's my stupid gun?"
"You threw it and hit Prussia," America told her.
"What? Why would I do something like that?" Without waiting for an answer, South shouted over the log. "Hey, Prussia!"
"What?" Prussia peeked out from around his tree.
"Throw me back my gun!"
"Nein!"
"South, he isn't that stupid," America said. South ignored him.
"Oh, come on, you wimp! I need it. What do you think I'm goin' to do with it?"
"I think you'll throw it again!"
"Why would I do that? I'm supposed to fire it."
"South! We're out of ammo!"
"We don't have ammo? Well that explains why I threw my gun."
"Yes, it does. We need to get out of here without those two catching us." America heard Germany muttering to Prussia.
"Fine, how are we goin' to get out?" America peeked over the log. The German brothers weren't anywhere to be seen. He thought carefully.
"Hand-to-hand combat, it's the only way." He didn't see Germany and Prussia stand slowly.
"Hand-to-hand combat?" South repeated, looking at America like he was an idiot. "I can dance but I can't fight like that.
"Yes, you can," America told her. "Just . . . do what feels right."
"Alright."
"Got you!" Prussia and Germany loomed over the siblings. South screamed until her lungs ran out of air.
"That felt about right," she said when she had her air back.
"South!" America leapt at Prussia, sending them tumbling over.
"West!" Germany sighed but ignored his brother, reaching for South who tried to run.
"Stay away!" Germany seized her around the waist and dragged her back.
"Come here!"
"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" South thrashed in Germany's arms as America and Prussia rolled on the ground wrestling.
"Hey, America, what's with your girly-sounding soldier?" Prussia asked with a cackle as Germany struggled to hold South still.
"Aiyeh!" South flailed in Germany's grip. "Why do you think I sound like a girl?" she demanded. Germany froze, a blush creeping over his cheeks. He dropped South unceremoniously as Prussia and America ceased their fighting. Prussia curled up laughing.
"Wow, America! You're fighting with a girl?"
"Oof! Why did you drop me?" South glared up at Germany. "Help me up!" Germany blushed but took her hand, helping South up.
"B-Because you're a . . . a girl!" Germany said. South dusted herself off, glaring at him.
"You do not do that to a lady," she told him.
"Sorry?" Germany asked in shock. South stepped forward.
"When you are with a lady you escort her to where she wants to go." Germany stepped back as South advanced on him. America and Prussia watched them, gaping.
"South?" America asked cautiously. He had no idea what his sister was planning.
"You open doors for her." South continued to advance. "You pull out her chair; give her a kiss on the hand when you meet her and when you say goodbye. You always pay attention to her and if she wants to dance then you dance with her."
"What? I don't understand!" Germany stuttered.
"Hey, America," Prussia nudged him. "What's up with your girl soldier?" he asked.
"Dude, I have no idea," America admitted. "It's just how she is."
"You never ever drop a lady." Germany was stopped by a tree at his back and South poked him in the chest.
"Sorry," he practically squeaked.
"Just for that . . ." South seized Germany's arm and sank her teeth into his wrist.
"Gott verdammt!" Germany grabbed her hair, trying in vain to pull her off. America grinned at his sister's idea and leapt onto Prussia, biting him on the shoulder. Prussia fell back with a scream.
"Sit sind Teufle hunde! (They're devil dogs!)" he shouted. The pair tumbled down a hill. South relinquished her grip on Germany's wrist and bit him on the other arm.
"Gah!" Germany struck her on the back. "What are you?" he demanded.
"Um, I think I'm a Teufel hunde, as the idiot said."
"Hey!" Prussia shouted from the base of the hill. "OUCH! Quit biting me!"
Germany and Prussia were forced to flee when South and America continued to bite them. When they returned to their base camp they heard that many of the German soldiers had been bitten by the American marines during hand-to-hand combat. The soldiers had returned, telling their in-commands they were being bitten by devil dogs. Little did they know that the name would stick for the marines for years to come.
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Canada laughed. "That is an interesting encounter."
"I know, right?" America said. "Germany and Prussia never found out who South was but they were pretty freaked out. They never thought we'd be biting them."
"So that's who South is." Norway stood in the doorway. "Interesting." The North American brothers gaped at him.
"How long have you been standing there?" America asked weakly.
"The entire time, I was curious when I heard you two talking. The Confederate States of America is still alive?" Norway asked. America struggled to sit up. He could feel the drug's effects wearing off.
"No, she's not. She hasn't been alive since the Civil War," he said desperately.
"I heard all of the stories, America." Norway approached the nightstand and withdrew a syringe. He swiftly injected America then tossed the syringe into the wastebasket, withdrawing another for Canada. America fell back onto the pillows with a groan but froze when he spotted Iceland peeking into the room. The Nordic nation was watching the process with wide eyes. America's eyes flicked to Norway then back to Iceland.
"Run!" he mouthed at Iceland. "England!" Iceland nodded, slipping past the door quietly.
"The stories don't mean anything," America told Norway, trying to distract him.
"You're lying. I heard everything. All we need to do is look at your records and we'll learn whether or not she is real."
"My records?" America repeated. "What records?"
"Pictures from the past. As you said, the Confederate States of America fought alongside you in many wars." America growled at him.
"You will leave her alone!" he demanded. "She's just like Prussia, an ex-nation. She was never even a nation!" Canada looked to Norway with worry. What would he do to South?
"That doesn't matter," Norway said. "She could prove to be a threat to us. She might even have damaged you."
"What are you talking about?" America asked skeptically.
"She is southern America, correct?" America nodded slowly. "Who knows what English crap she's spewed out for you?" America narrowed his eyes.
"Idi k chertu! (Go to Hell!)" he snapped in Russian. Norway froze as Canada snorted.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
"Molodets. (Well done.)" Canada told America with a grin. America smirked at Norway.
"You will not speak to far (father) in that manner, either of you," Norway snapped at them. "You two are about to be punished."
"Who said you were our patéras (father)?" America asked with a Greek word. Being the melting pot of the world always came in handy at times. America was fluent in plenty of languages and understood most cultures.
"You will not speak those languages in this house! I will be going to get far Dan if you do not stop!" Norway threatened.
"Fine, voir si je m'en fiche (Fine, see if I care)." Canada cackled at the French.
"O-Oui," he said through gasping breaths.
"You two!" Norway stormed out of the room. Canada looked at his brother.
"Il va nous tuer. (He's going to kill us.)" he pointed out.
"Yeah, I know."
"Iceland, what are you doing?" America heard Norway's voice echo down the hallway, his stomach dropped.
"Iceland, run!"
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Iceland hurried down the hall as quietly as he could. Why did Norge have America and Canada in that room? Why weren't they fighting him? And why was he talking to them like that? He stopped at the first open window he could find.
"Look," he grabbed Mr. Puffin and forced the bird to look at him. "I don't give a damn about what you're going to say but I need you to get help."
"Why can't you?" Mr. Puffin asked angrily, struggling in his grip.
"Because Dan saw me walk in. If he saw me leave he'd get suspicious. And I need to help America and Canada. So just do as I say." Iceland dropped the bird out the window and watched as Mr. Puffin flew away cursing.
"Iceland?" Iceland whirled to see Norway staring at him. "What are you doing?"
To stay by your side.
A/N: Hey, everyone, really interesting historical notes you might want to read!
The Confederacy won the first battle of the Civil, the first Battle of Bull Run. (There were two.) They also won the first two battles of Gettysburg but the Union won the third and last. The Confederacy won the last battle, Battle of Palmito Ranch, though they lost the Civil War.
Berserk:(adj.) violently or destructively frenzied; wild; crazed; deranged. A Berserker was Viking warrior who took drugs and fought in a frenzied rage during battle.
The fight in the Belleau Wood is a famous moment for the marines. They were fighting the Germans when they ran out of ammo, so they started using hand-to-hand comment. They even bit the soldiers and the German soldiers returned to their in-command saying "The devil dogs are biting us!" Hence the nickname "devil dogs" for the marines was born.