A/N: Hello all and welcome! This fic really just came out of nowhere and it's going to be my first horror fic. I have HUGE plans for this and I hope you'll all enjoy the ride. The rating will be M due to extreme language, adult situations concerning sex, and possible graphic content. Take this as a warning please.

DISCLAIMER FOR THE ENTIRITY OF THIS FANFICTION: I do not own any characters from Hetalia. None.

Timor.

Chapter one.

"I still don't believe that this hotel is in your country and you know nothing about it." Looking at a piece of loose leaf paper in his hand, green eyes scanned the sloppy hand writing that massacred the page. "What did you say the name of this place was?"

"The Timor Hotel, I told you Arthur, I got this covered!" Driving with one tanned arm resting on the rolled down window pane, America's right arm remained moving on the steering wheel. The truth was, America barely had the situation under control, England had put him in charge of one little detail of this business meeting and that was the hotel. Forgetting about it until the night before they were supposed to leave, of course all the rooms in the area were booked solid, except for this hotel which seemed to have more vacancies than occupants. Relieved to have dodged a very large bullet, America booked the room for the week with little to no questions asked.

"I believe you've 'got this covered,' Alfred, that's not the issue. The issue is we're on a completely unmarked road and have no idea where this damned hotel even is!" Rolling his window up slightly, England sighed into the fresh spring air that hung in the car lightly. Outside, puffs of fresh pollen swirled throughout the air, collecting in small clumps on the windshield. America shrugged his shoulders and fixed his tee shirt before returning his arm to the window.

"You're worrying too much. The meeting's in two days, we have that long to find this place." The only thing keeping England from glaring at the younger man next to him was the bright sun that streamed steadily in through the driver's side window. At least it was a nice day.

After a little more than a half an hour of driving in a seemingly ending forest, a clearing opened up and a classy hotel stood buried within hundreds of tall trees and weeping willow branches. There was an elegant sign with swirling golden letters welcoming them as they pulled up to the grand structure. A small section of black top seemed to be the only area reserved for parking and America had no qualms about taking the first spot. Swiftly turning the key in the ignition into the off position, the American nation ripped his keys into his palm and jumped out of the car, stretching his arms over his head with a loud yawn. England took his time stepping out into the sun light, squinting ever so slightly before closing the door behind himself and walking towards America.

"I'll unlock the trunk," the older nation stated with an out stretched arm. The other smiled as brightly as ever in the sunlight, his golden locks giving him a halo of color around his face causing England to flush as he looked away. The keys were pressed to his palm and he swiftly turned around to head towards the trunk of the car. As his eyes remained averted, something drew his attention away from his path to the trunk to his surroundings.

Their car was the only car in the lot.

'Odd…' England heard his mind utter before sticking the key into the lock and turning. The trunk popped up and America walked over to lift the heavy cases out of the car. He noticed the elder seemed distracted and looked to him.

"Something up?"

"Ah… Not really. There's just no one else parked here, I thought it seemed a little peculiar."

"Dude, don't worry about it, there's probably just another parking lot somewhere around here. This place seems pretty big." Slamming the trunk back down to closed, he looked around as well. "Or everyone's out for the day, it's still pretty early." England felt his mind at ease with the obvious answer and nodded.

"Yes, of course. Let's go check in." Taking his rolling luggage in his left hand and his smaller bag in his right, England headed towards the front entrance with America in close tow.

The entrance seemed more like the entrance to a southern style home; a wooden porch painted white with several rocking chairs that bobbed back and forth with the warm wind. A porch swing creaked to the left with pillows that looked sun bleached from many seasons out in the bright weather. The only piece out of place was the over the top double glass door panel that lead to the inside lobby. The lobby was decorated with bright and colorful flowers and cherry wood furniture. Illuminated by the large windows that overlooked the porch and a large brass chandelier that hung from the ceiling; the entire space gave off a warm sensation. England walked up to the empty front desk and rang the bell for service.

It was oddly quiet for a hotel, no one was walking through any of the corridors the connected to the large lobby room and no doors were slamming. There were no footsteps coming from the grand stair case nor were there the sounds of bells coming from the elevators. It was just silence.

England nearly jumped out of his skin once a man with a fair complexion walked out from a back room and behind a counter. He looked to be in his middle 30's with a few peppered grey hairs and a stern expression as he pulled out a reservation sheet.

"Name?" He asked in a dull voice as America stepped forward.

"Alfred F. Jones." He stated in his normal chipper volume that echoed off the tile flooring. The man behind the counter seemed un-amused as he looked to the list and checked off Alfred's name. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a long metal key that looked like the years had been poor to it rather than the usual card-keys the duo had become accustomed to over the years. Alfred took the key in his hand and thanked the front desk clerk before he retreated back in the room he had originated from. "Looks like we're in room 413."

"Then we'll take the elevator…" England said with noticeable apprehension in his voice. The younger didn't seem to notice as he bounded over towards the elevator and pressed the up button, the doors opening almost automatically. The pair stepped inside as the door slid shut on the tiny space. Inside, there were several buttons on the control panel that appeared to be missing or just plain broken except for the floor number four which was written in a grimy black color that was difficult to see in the flickering light. America pressed the button for their floor as the small space began its shaky decent upwards. England pressed himself against the wall behind him and held his breath the entirety of the ride and nearly ran off when the doors slid open again with a loud squeal. "For such a nice looking hotel, that elevator needs some work."

"I guess there has to be something wrong with the place." The blued eyed nation kept up his annoying optimism as the gears of the elevators squealed behind them.

They walked down the hall ways taking in the dim details that were offered. The wall paper was dingy with stains of an unexplained nature and no pictures lining the walls. There were several lights out, plunging them into darkness seemingly every few paces, causing the two to walk with smaller and smaller gaps between them. Perhaps the most unnerving fact were the numbers that lined the walls next to the decrepit doors: In no particular order, they started at the number 333 at one end of the hall and ending with 10 at the other.

Checking his watch, the Englishman sighed.

"Alfred, I don't know what kind of hotel this really is or if you're just doing this as a joke on me but seriously. Where is our bloody room?"

"I don't know, it's gotta be around here somewhere though." Poking his head around another corner to a twisted passageway, he waved his arm, encouraging England to follow him. The hallway had sharp turns but more illumination, eventually leading to room 413. At this point, England half expected the room to come complete with a dead body with how uneasy he felt at this point but was relieved with America pushed the door open. "After you, Iggy!" Not even bothering to correct the idiot holding the door for him, the English nation pushed forward and into the room.

To his surprise, the room was actually very pleasant although a little musty smelling. The wall paper near the door seemed to be peeling away slightly but nothing for cause of immediate concern. America closed the door behind them and launched himself onto the bed (a sort of tradition for when the two shared hotel rooms) and looked straight at England.

"So, whatcha say we break in the bed?" He smiled as England turned bright red and huffed at the suggestion before said nation's suitcase was thrown on top of him.

"Can't you wait until we've at least settled in to be vulgar, prat?"

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" He asked while moving the rather heavy suitcase from his midsection. The two unpacked relatively quickly before sitting back down and deciding what to do from there. "I remember seeing on the website, there's a restaurant here if you wanna grab some food."

"Let's just take the stairs to get back down, I don't trust that elevator anymore." America nodded in agreement and watched as England moved to the wine red curtains across the room. "I'm just going to open the window to get this musty smell out." Thrusting the curtains open, England's stomach was attacked by that needle-poked feeling as the window was boarded shut with a few streams of light pouring in. "A-Alfred, I've been trying to suppress this but I think there's something wrong with this hotel."

"What do you mean?" Gods, he could be so oblivious.

"Did you notice anything off kilter when we checked in?"

"Not really. That dude behind the desk was kind of a creeper but other than that not really."

"That huge pad that he used to check us in… Your name was in the middle of it."

"Yeah so?" The Englishman now fully turned to him with a serious look imprinted on his face.

"Alfred, your name was the only one on that list. The parking lot is empty. There's no sounds coming from anywhere other than us…. I believe we're the only ones in this hotel."

XxXxXxX

Timor is the Latin root of the word "terror" and can also mean "object causing great fear."
See you all next chapter.