WWII

"Damn Kraut," England grumbled as he futilely pulled at his bonds. "Damn him, damn these chains, damn this blindfold, and damn this bloody war!"

"You're rambling," America warned from directly behind, a shift indicating that they were tied back-to-back. The Western Nation's voice was odd, though…restrained and tinged with something that England couldn't quite identify. Perhaps the reality of their situation was getting to him?

"Well maybe I need to ramble a bit," England said, a little quieter than before. He wriggled his hands restlessly. "Would you just hurry up and snap these chains, already? Quickly, before the guards return. I've been hearing some nasty rumors concerning Nazi prison camps and would rather not be around to confirm them."

No answer. America's form felt completely still against his back, which was alarming because the boisterous young Nation was never so inanimate. "…America?"

After what seemed like an eternity, America suddenly unfroze, exhaling a sharp breath and a muttered swear.

The sound of a soldier's boots echoing against stone could be heard in the distance. England released a colorful, sea-touched curse of his own. "I don't know what the Hell is wrong with you but now is notthe time to-"

"England."

The Englishman's mouth shut with an audible click. There is was again. That deepened tonethat caused England's hackles to rise unpleasantly. It was almost comparable to the growl of a very hungry predator.

"Promise me that you won't remove your blindfold."

"Wha-"

"Promise me,"America insisted, voice still strangely rough. "No matter what you hear."

England found himself nodding nervously, despite the fact that America wouldn't see it. A muffled phrase in German, and the door to their shared cell began to squeak open ominously…

"I-I promise."

England lurched up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily.

The old clock on the far wall ticked away the seconds. A mild breeze made the leaves rustle on the tree just outside his window, the moon casting long shadows across the floor.

The island Nation threw his blankets off, swinging his legs over the side and stepping into his slippers. He crossed his drafty bedroom with intent to acquire a glass of water.

After so many years of nightmares, he'd come to be essentially unafraid of them at the moment he inevitably woke up. Usually he could just go straight back to sleep.

But for some reason, this dream lingered, and made him uneasy.

He remembered that day. World War Two, when they'd been captured by Germans and taken to a holding place near the border of France. America hadn't allowed him to remove his blindfold until they were well past the tree line and in the clear.

He also remembered smelling blood.

The unease remained even after he finished his glass. Just when he was considering going for something stronger, the damned phone rang.

He jumped halfway out of his slippers, scowling at the noisy contraption before going to pick it up. The number belonged to none other than America.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, here?" England hissed into the handset.

"Sorry, Arthur."

England's frown intensified. "Canada?"

"Yes." The mild-mannered blond sounded oddly breathless. "Listen, Al's cellphone is missing in the White House somewhere, and mine's about to die. Could you help spread the word about the New York meeting being cancelled?"

"Tell the git to send out an email," England ground out.

There was an odd thump from the other end of the line, and a harsh curse that France probably didn't even know existed in his language. "His computer's been destroyed in…an accident. I can't get back to mine soon enough to keep people from coming."

"Why can't he tell me all of this himself?" England demanded. Then he added, "And at a more decent hour?"

"He's busy," came the terse answer. There was a soft groan in the background, followed by the sound of glass breaking.

"What in God's name are you doing over there?"

"Please just do it."

Click.

England stared at the phone. His aforementioned unease heightened into foreboding.

'America probably just went and did something stupid,' he tried to reassure himself. 'I'm sure it's fine.'

If only he could believe that. He went into his garden with one being in mind. A chill wind carried the faint sound of chimes, and one of his closest friends poked her head out of one of his prized rosebushes.

Flying Mint Bunny flew up to land delicately on the porch railing. Her smile was genuine, however confused. "I thought you didn't want to be disturbed when the stars were out."

"Tonight is an exception," England answered.

The faerie blinked. "You're worried about something." She sounded concerned for him.

"Yes…And I need to ask a favor of you," England said. "I'll pay you in pizza."

Whomever it was that had discovered that the Fae had a special love for pizza that bordered on addiction, England wanted to shake his hand. Flying Mint Bunny's ears perked up in excitement. "Of course, England!"

"Somethings happening in North America," England explained. "With the twins. I need you to go to Alfred's house and find out what."

Those ears drooped again, and England despaired. That was never a good sign.

"I'm sorry, England." The gentle faerie's voice was quiet, and afraid. "I can't do that."

"Are the native spirits giving you trouble again?" But he'd thought that mini pseudo-war was over, since their dispute of unexplained origins had been ended through formal peace talks mediated by himself and…Canada's polar bear, of all things.

He hadn't realized the creature was a spirit until that very strange summer solstice. And a formidable one at that.

"No…nothing like that." Flying Mint Bunny shivered, and so England allowed her to snuggle into his arms.

"Then what's scaring you?" England asked gently, stroking her pastel fur.

"There's something…there. Something that should never have reawakened. It's happening more often, now-" The faerie burrowed her head into the folds of his clothes. "-and he can see us."

Alright, so here is the first chapter of the new and improved Bad Medicine. After a long-ass wait on your guys' part, I think I've worked out MOST of the bugs...God, I was an awful writer when I first started this...can only imagine what I'll think of my current stories in the future...

So please tell me what you thought of this first chapter? Pweaaaase?

Later dudes. ^J^