AN: I decided to change the title and make this thing a chapter fic. For future reference, each chapter will deal with a different country and one of their former gods.

Something had been following Russia on his walk home for the last three blocks. He could hear it, quietly crunching through the snow a few meters behind him. The thin light from the streetlamps illuminated patches of the snowy sidewalk and the windows of a few houses glowed warmly as families inside settled down for the evening, but beyond that the world was dark. It wasn't the normal kind of dark either, much more than a mere absence of light. This was more dense, almost something that could be touched. It had a life of it's own, this sort of darkness. There was really only one being that brought that kind of dark into the world, and at that moment he was stalking Russia through the shadows.

"I don't think I invited you here!" he called over his shoulder, careful to not actually look back. The cold wind caught his breath and tugged it away, steaming from his mouth. "You're very rude, showing up out of the blue like this. Especially when you aren't welcome here anymore!"

There was no answer from the dark figure, but Russia hadn't been expecting one in the first place. That one had never been the talkative sort.

Russia knew perfectly well who was following him. He had troubled Russia for centuries when the country had been smaller. Things were different now, though. He wasn't a helpless child anymore; there was no longer any reason for him to be afraid of the dark. He tried to ignore the old god, but the slow, crunching footsteps seemed to dominate all else. Even worse, it was getting harder it was to tell if it was the sound of boots or large, heavy paws padding through the snow drifts. What would he see, if he turned around to look? A man? A monster? No, he wouldn't think about that.

"I don't believe in gods anymore," he said, loud enough for his former deity to hear. "I don't need them. Not the Christian god, not Dazhbog, not Belobog and not Chernobog either!"

There was still no sound from the old god behind him, save the constant, maddeningly steady footsteps. A shiver ran down Russia's spine and he began to walk a little faster. The following footsteps sped up to match.

"Stop following me!" he shouted. His voiced echoed hollowly across the empty street. The street lamps seemed too dim. He suddenly missed the days when they were lit by fire instead of electricity. Fire lit up things that electricity couldn't. Fire was important, even if he couldn't remember why. Fire had made him feel safe back when he was small, but he was old enough to know that there were no safe places in the world.

There were other faint memories bubbling up too: the smell of blood from a sacrificial goat, a goblet passed from hand to hand while he and his sisters huddled around a fire, the whispered curses on every mouth, and the dark god, looming over him like a mountain.

He could remember the feeling of dread on the summer solstice, when the black god defeated the white one. His cold world would turn even colder and the days grew shorter during the half of the year that belonged to him. It wouldn't last forever, of course. The gods would fight again, and next time the white god would be the victor. The sun would return, the warmth, the light…

But no, it wasn't the winter solstice yet. The world still belonged to the black god, the god of darkness. There was no getting away, no escape from the cold and dark, but as the sudden panic squeezed his lungs, he broke into a run. He could hear the scuffling in the snow behind him as the god did the same. His boots pounded against the sidewalk (too slow, always too slow! Why couldn't he run faster?) until his foot suddenly hit a slick patch of ice on the sidewalk. It was a stupid, careless mistake for someone who knew snow and ice so well, and in an instant his feet were no longer beneath him. There was a painful crack as his knees hit the ice, but he could hardly feel a thing, not when he could hear Chernobog getting closer and closer and…

Without thinking, Russia covered his head with his arms protectively, waiting for whatever would happen when the black god finally caught him. But nothing happened. The scuffling sound slowed and finally stopped. Russia finally risked a look back. It was difficult to make out any details in the dark, but there was a shape in the shadows, something more like a massive dog than a man. The figure stood silently, lurking, waiting. The panic that had overwhelmed him began to pass and shame rolled in to replace it, hot and dizzying. Pathetic. He wasn't a child anymore. He was strong, and a strong country did not cower, not before a god or anyone else.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, raising his voice to hide the tremor in it. He pulled himself up out of the snow, brushing the snow off his smarting knees. There would be bruises tomorrow. He forced himself to walk; it was an effort to not run again when he heard Chernobog start to move, matching the country's slow pace. He almost wished the god would just attack him; constantly being followed was going to drive him mad.

"Please, just go away." His voice came out as a miserable little wail. "I don't want you here! Leave me alone!"

No answer. Had Chernobog always been silent? No, he had been different before…much bigger, for one thing. Russia could remember leaning his head back to look up at him, though perhaps it wasn't that the god was so large, just that he had been so small. He heard once that it was belief that fueled a god, and it had been a long time since he had worshiped the old gods. The years of neglect had withered Chernobog away, made him more beast than man.

There, he could see the light from his house, just a little further down the street. The relief turned his knees to water, but he forced himself to keep moving. Chernobog was still following him quietly, but surely he would be safe inside the house. The front door was luckily unlocked and Russia dashed inside, locking the door with shaking fingers before staggering back against the wall.

His breath was still harsh and ragged as he slumped against the wall, squeezing his hands over his ears. He could still hear him out there, scratching against the door (and that was surely the sound of claws against wood, what else could make such a sound?)

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his shoulder gently. His head jerked up and his purple eyes met green ones. Lithuania, it was only Lithuania…

"Russia? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"He's out there still!" Russia blurted out. "He's waiting outside and he won't leave me alone!"

"Who?" Lithuania glanced at the door, and to Russia's horror, walked up to it.

"Don't let him in!" he pleaded as Lithuania unlocked the door and opened it a crack. There was a horrible moment of silence while Lithuania just stared at the uninvited guest on the front door step.

"You aren't welcome here," he said at last, in the kind of strong, firm voice Russia hasn't heard from him in a very long time. "I'm sure Russia already told you, but I'm telling you again. You don't belong here anymore. Go away." To Russia's amazement, there was the soft sound of retreating footsteps that soon faded into nothing. Lithuania closed and locked the door again with a strange kind of satisfaction before turning back to Russia, who was gaping at the smaller country.

"What….what did you…"

Lithuania shrugged. "Nothing. I just told him to leave and he left. It's easier to do when you don't have any past ties to them, it seems. I guess he thought he still had some power over you. That's probably why he was bothering you, though who knows what brought him out tonight."

This wasn't the first time Lithuania had run into one of the gods of the old world, apparently, but Russia was too dizzy to ask for an explanation. His legs still felt all wobbly from the encounter and he allowed himself to slide down the wall to the floor. Lithuania was by his side in an instant, touching the light haired country's shoulder with concern.

"Not hurt," Russia assured him weakly. "Just a little tired."

Lithuania nodded reluctantly, not entirely convinced, and glanced back at the locked door. There was no sound coming from it now, not even the howl of the wind.

"He looked a little familiar," Lithuania said thoughtfully after a moment. "I mean, I think I've met him before," he explained when he noticed Russia's confused expression. "He's one of the gods you shared with Poland, wasn't he? He was much bigger the last time I saw him."

"That was a very long time ago," Russia grumbled.

"W-well yes, but that's how I met him. That's the trouble with living near someone who has different gods from your own, sometimes they…spill over a bit, I suppose."

He sat down next to Russia on the floor, staring out at nothing, or maybe something too far away for Russia to see.

"I can remember it happening a few times. One of Poland's gods would start following me, trying to become a part of me and my people. I figured out after a while that if you're just really firm with them, they'll usually leave. It happened a few times with Latvia's gods too. They could be pretty pushy, sometimes."

Lithuania sighed softly and smiled as he climbed to his feet.

"It's so cold tonight, isn't it? I bought some tea earlier, how about I make you a cup-" He stopped talking when Russia suddenly reached up and grabbed his sleeve.

"Stay here," he said quietly, hating how small and pathetic his voice sounded. "He…he might come back. I'll need you to drive him away again."

Lithuania's eyebrows went up and Russia could feel his face getting warm. He hated to be so weak in front of people. Weakness was something to be taken advantage of; he had learned that lesson time and time again. He could only be safe when he was strong. It wasn't safe to show any vulnerability to others, but it was alright to be fragile with Lithuania. Lithuania wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't laugh at his weakness.

"Of…of course," the smaller country said quietly, sitting back down against the wall and flinching slightly when Russia leaned against him. He held himself rigid while Russia nuzzled closer, but after a moment his slipped his slim hand over to rest over Russia's larger hand.

"You don't need to worry, I won't leave you," Lithuania said gently, and for a little while Russia could believe there was at least one safe place left in the world, one place where the shadows couldn't touch him.

Mythological Notes:

Chernobog is the god of darkness, grief and the waning year in Slavic mythology (his name literally means black god). Belobog, the white god, is his opposite (he's the god of light, sun and the waxing year.) The two fight twice a year, on the summer and winter solstice. On the summer solstice, Chernobog wins, which makes the days get shorter. On the winter solstice, Belobog wins and makes the days get long again. The cycle just keeps repeating year after year.

Dazhbog is a solar deity, and one of the major gods in Slavic mythology.

Fire was treated with respect in Slavic mythology, so much that children were made to be still and quiet while a fire was being lit.

Slavic mythology is kind of complicated, partly because nothing was written down before the arrival of Christianity, and the new religion mingled with the world and warped some things (Chernobog, for example, was often compared to the Devil in Christianity, which isn't quite accurate.) Also, in Russia the nobility practiced a different religion from the peasants. The upper class tended to focus more on the gods, while the peasants, who were mostly farmers, were more concerned with the natural world and all its cycles. Farmers are always at the mercy of their environment, but life was especially harsh in Russia. The short summers and cold weather made farming difficult, and the invading armies from all the various conflicts over the years didn't really make things any easier for them. The people were all too aware of their precarious situation, and were very serious about pleasing the appropriate gods and spirits to improve their chances for survival. As a result, there is a great deal of ritual in Russian mythology and folklore. The sacrificial goat and the act of passing a goblet around while cursing Chernobog were two such examples.

Chernobog and various other gods worshipped in Russia were also worshipped in Poland (some gods and practices differ, but they had a lot of the same gods.) Ultimately, religions tend to mingle and mix with other religions and cultures they come into contact with. For example, Zoroastrianism (which influenced a TON of different religions) is likely the source of the dualism found in Slavic mythology. So I'd imagine some countries met gods that weren't their own.