From Ghoulies and Ghosties - Epilogue
From Ghoulies and Ghosties
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
» Rating: T
» Classification(s): Action/Adventure, Supernatural, Humor
» Summary: The nations celebrate Halloween in their own… special ways. Featuring ‘Denmark and Prussia Go to the Liquor Store’ ©, LindaBlair!Iceland, Belarus as a floor shark, Turkey-nomming Greek cats, and much, much more.
» Author Note: I started this last Halloween and wrote almost all of it in a huge hurry, so I can’t guarantee quality or even readability.
[ Prologue] [ CH1] [ CH2] [ CH3] [ Epilogue]
Good Lord, Deliver Us!
"Mr. Edelstein!"
Too loud, and mein Gott so bright- even with his eyes closed the sunlight was searing through his lids and blasting his eyeballs. The sand was cool and gritty under his cheek when he tried to bury his face further into it.
"Oi, Mr. Edelstein! I found him!"
Ohhh God, what had he done last night to deserve Sealand first thing in the morning?
"He looks kinda dead."
"Does he?" The damned Austrian sounded quite pleased at the prospect. "Would you check, Peter?"
Something poked him in the side, hard, and Gilbert curled in on himself like a wounded caterpillar. "Owww, you little Blag," he moaned pathetically.
"That is really too bad," Roderich sighed, and reached for his phone.
[blag - brat]
"Ja, ja. I'll be right there. Danke, Roderich." Ludwig hung up and brought a hand to his temple, massaging the small ache that was already starting to form there. Damn his brother, anyway.
He was searching in the hallway closet for his coat when the front door opened, and footsteps sounded in the foyer. "Allo allo, is anyone home?"
Ludwig glanced around the closet door and smiled. "Vash, there you are! Come to get Liechtenstein?"
The Swiss nation nodded, coming to a stiff parade rest at the edge of the tiled entrance-way. He had a plastic bag in one hand and was idly twirling something long and thin between his fingers. "Yes, if she's ready. Ah, you're leaving?" he asked when Ludwig closed the door and came towards him, jacket in hand.
"It's Gilbert," he explained, and that was really all he needed to say. Vash's eyes narrowed.
"Where did he end up, last night?"
Ludwig's lips thinned in an expression of tight annoyance. "At a playground in Foggy Bottom, apparently."
"Foggy Bottom," Vash said thoughtfully, stroking the fletches of the arrow that he held.
"Brother!" Liechtenstein said from the top of the stairs. "Where were you?"
"Never too far away, sister," he said, and slotted the arrow back into his bag.
[danke - thanks]
When Denmark finally made it to the Swedish Embassy, he only managed two steps and a bright, "Hej, elskers-" before slipping and falling on his ass.
"Aaav! What the-" He pulled his hand off the floor and it came up with a sticky sucking noise, red smeared all over the palm. "What the fuck…?"
The kitchen looked like a war zone, bloody spatters everywhere and drag patterns streaked through the still crimson pool in the middle the floor. Mathias swallowed, and gingerly levered himself up. The kitchen was deserted, but several sets of footprints led deeper into the house; he toed off his shoes and followed them.
In the living room, the television was on and the handset was hanging off the hook, red smeared over the white plastic. The footsteps milled around the phone, then climbed the stairs towards the bedrooms. Mathias climbed after them, into the din upstairs hallway, and branched left to stop at a door before looping back to a room on the right. He chose right, walked in step with footsteps until they disappeared under a door. There was a perfect bloody handprint overlaying the handle and he winced as it smudged under his fingers.
The door was locked, not very surprisingly. He rattled the knob and tried, "Sverige? Are you alive?"
No answer. The house settled around him, silence broken only by small creaks in the floorboards and the occasional rattle of pipes.
"Huh," he said, and turned around just in time to see a crazy-eyed Sverige start the swing that would have taken Mathias's head.
"KORS I RøVEN!" He ducked and rolled, the sword biting into the wall where his neck had been. "What the ever-loving- Sver! It's me!"
"AAAAAGH," the Swede answered, and dove after him, down the stairs at back into the living room.
"Holy God, Sver, you're the one who called me!" he swore, edging around the couches to keep as much space between him and the madman. "You called me, yammering about dead bodies and- eek!" he squeaked as Berwald drove the sword through the cushions, almost skewering him.
Mathias didn't see that he had a choice, and after dodging the next wild lunge he tackled Berwald to the ground, trying to wrestle the sword away from him. "I though this thing was in storage, anyway! Did you kill them? If you've killed Norge, Sverige-"
"Oh. It's Anko," came an expressionless voice from the stairs.
Mathias rolled them over and when he saw Norway standing there he grinned hugely. "Norge! You're okay!"
Under him, Sweden went still. "L'kas?"
"Hn." The nation turned around and made to walk back upstairs.
"L'kas-! G'roff, Den," and Mathias found himself airborne. Luckily he missed the glass coffee table.
"Th'ght y'were dead," Berwald was saying to Norge, awkwardly holding the sword in front of him. "Y'just v'nished- an' th'blood-"
"Blood?"
The taller nation gestured mutely to the footprints.
Norway was giving him the kind of look normally reserved for Denmark and Denmark alone. "Iceland dropped a bottle of grenadine on the floor. I told him to clean it up, and I went to bed."
Mathias choked, started to laugh, but that all ended abruptly as Sweden's sword imbedded itself in the wall behind his head. "Goddamnit, Sver!"
"Tino," the Swede said urgently, coming up the stairs to where Lukas stood. "Wh' happ'ned t' Tino?"
"I'm fine, Berwald." The Finnish nation appeared at the top of the stairs, looking tired and bruised but hardly dead. 'I slipped and knocked my head, is all- meep," he said, like a mouse being stepped on, as Berwald walked very purposefully up the steps and grabbed him. "No, really, I'm fine now- Berwald, please put me down…"
As Tino's protests faded, Mathias looked up at Norway and beamed. "Hu, now that we're alone-"
"Get out."
"But Nooooorge…!"
[Hej, elskers - hello, darlings; av - ouch; kors i røven! - equ. Holy shit!]
Alfred woke slowly, and the first thing he saw when his eyes blinked open was Matthew's face. It was relaxed and open in sleep, in a way that reminded him of when they were children and had shared a bed on stormy nights. He smiled, softly, and reached out to nudge him awake.
Matthew opened his eyes, and they were cloudy for a moment before they focused on him; for a moment at least, Al could tell that his brother was thinking of the same thing he was.
Then Matthew's gaze drifted slightly downward, and shot comically wide.
"S'matter?" Alfred murmured, and at that moment Ivan grumbled, "Tishye, daragoi," and burrowed his head deeper into Alfred's collarbone.
To say the American nation shot like a bottle rocket off the bed does not quite convey the energy and vehemence with which he departed Ivan's embrace and the rock-hard mattress. It was just his misfortune that he landed directly on top of Natalia where she had finally collapsed the night before.
"Pamierci," she growled, and Alfred wheezed, "Help!" as her small hands closed around his throat.
"I do not think so," Ivan decided, leaning over the edge. "If she eats you, perhaps she will no longer have room for me, da?"
"C'mmie b'strrrrrd…" Al gurgled.
On the bed, Matthew stared disgustedly at the ceiling. How is this his life?
"Aim for the eyes, Amerika. It is her only weakness."
"S'riously f'ck'ng h'te yyh!"
"There'd better be candy left in the bowl," he muttered darkly.
"Whos'd th't?"
"It's Canada, goddamnit!"
[tishye, daragoi - тише, дорогой - quiet, dear; pamierci - памерці - die]
A/N: The end! :D This may have all seemed like crack to the power of ten, but most of the events in this story have actually happened to people I know. Even the Green Arrow story is legit. How awesome and mysterious is life?