A/N: Writen for MidnightNimh's challenge on the Writing Junkie Forum. It was loads of fun to write!

"Really Birdie?" Gilbert asked, raising a pale eyebrow at the other boy. He pushed himself into a sitting position, feet still sprawled out on the cushions of Mathew's black couch, and shook his head, amused. "That's what you're going to this thing dressed up as?"

Mathew nodded and lifted his arms up, looking down at the costume he wore as he did so. "Well, yes. It's what I always wear for Halloween."

Of course, his costume was never exactly the same but it always held the general idea. It was always some sort of a witch - be it classical or new age, tattered or shining, bright or dark, he'd gone as them all as some point or another. And, out of them all, this was his favorite one to wear. He didn't see what the ex-nation's problem was with it.

The skirt was a simple black one. No frills, no edges. Just a straight black cotton skirt. A long-sleeved black cotton shirt, one that hung loose around his flat chest and thin build, was tucked neatly into it. A white apron tied about his waist and a grey shawl, with a starched pointed hat resting a top his blond curls, completed it. It looked just like the dresses that witches had worn back in the 18th century.

Smoke. Smoke everywhere. Filling Mathew's lungs and burning his throat. Surrounding him - even though his room in Arthur's house was completely void of the vile substance. It sutng at his eyes, filling them with tears and causing his vision to turn hazy. And he knew that, some town, somwhere, was holding a burning.

Gilbert blinked and paused. He had never paid much attention to the Canadian nation prior to this year and, for the life of him, didn't remember ever seeing the other man at one of the Nation Halloween Parties. Alfred was always there. Arthur and Francis usually showed up, too. But he didn't recall seeing the easily overlooked man there.

"Oh." Gilbert said. "Well, uh, you know you'd look more awesome dressed up in something else right?"

Mathew smiled slightly. "You mean like your outfit?"

"Exactly like my outfit!" Gilbert shouted, jumping up off the couch so Mathew had a better look at the clothes he'd pulled on. "Except not as awesome because, really, nothing can beat this."

'This' being the Dracula costume that he had bought off of Kiku the year before. The black silk and dark red satin stood out against Gilbert's pale skin and the golden brooch that he was using to hold the cape on glimmered in the dim lighting of Mathew's living room. A pair of slip-on vampire teeth lay on the couch - at which Mathew cringed, because he knew that Gilbert had been wearing them earlier.

"You're Dracula. I'm a witch. I think they go well together." Mathew said softly; and it was no longer hard to keep the tremble from his voice when he spoke, even if it wanted to be there, to be heard. Even though he wanted to scream.

It was unbearable, this heat. Flickering at his feet and legs. Spreading up and up and up, until it had engulfed his entire body and stolen away his breath. Mathew could feel himself trembling. Could feel himself sink down to the floor, legs crumpling beneath him and arms and knees taking the brunt of the collision with Arthur's wooden floor. But all he could focus on was that awful burning and the fact that he could no longer feel his toes.

"Eh, I guess." Gilbert gave a non-commital shrug. "And I guess that it's all pretty awesome since you're the one wearing it."

Mathew just nodded and smiled at him again. "We should probably be going soon, Gilbert. You know Ludwig always gets bad at us when we show up late."

"Bruder can deal with it." Gilbert said, waving a hand through the air to show that he really could care less what the older German did. Still he scooped the teeth up, wiped them off on his pants, and popped them into his mouth.

"Maybe for you but not for anyone else." Well, Ludwig didn't usually say anything when Mathew showed up late. Or early. Or not at all. Unless Alfred hadn't already shown up, in which case Mathew would get shouted at in his almost-twin's place.

Gilbert rolled his dark red eyes at Mathew as he wandered over to stand next to the shorter man. The Canadian nation had been standing in the doorway of the livingroom during their talk and, now that Gilbert was also there, he could see a very unhappy looking black blob on the floor by Mathew's feet.

"Hey, Birdie?" Gilbert asked.

"Hmm?" Mathew gave the ex-nation a quick glance as he scooped the cellphone and carkeys up off the counter.

"What did you do to your bear?" Gilbert figured that was what it was. There wasn't anything else that he'd ever heard growl in the same way save for the polar bear that Mathew always carried around with him.

The smile on Mathew's face widened a little bit as he looked down at his furry friend. "Isn't it cute? I dressed him up as a spider."

Kumachika let out another little growl and frowned up at his master. "Not happy with Unknown."

Mathew's smile faltered a little bit as he scooped the bear up and tucked him under one arm. "Well, I think you look scary."

"Food?" Kumachika questioned, peering down at the counter Mathew was leaning against.

Ignoring the bear, who had been demanded food in exchange for not ripping off Mathew's hand earlier, Mathew headed for his front door. "Come on, Gilbert."

Breath, Mathew's mind told him, breath and get back up. Clean up the tea on the floor before Arthur gets home. Get rid of the shattered glass. Act like your fine. And, really, he did try. Who knew what the embodiment of Great Britain would do when he realized that Mathew had completely destroyed one of his glass mugs? But the pain had gotten to great and the smoke had cut off all air and all he could do was lay there, on the kitchen floor amidst a puddle of Early Grey, and listen to the footsteps get closer.

Niether nation bothered to lock the door after them, as no one ever bothered the Canadian nation or his belongings. And Gilbert was too focused on getting to the other man's truck, and out of the biting cold that he'd been hit with after leaving the safety of the house, to even think about stopping and turning the lock.

"Damn, Birdie!" Gilbert exclaimed as he slammed the door of the passenger seat shut. The truck rocked as Mathew hauled himself up and did the same on the drivers side. "Why the hell do you live way out here in the cold during winter? It it so unawesome."

"I like the cold." Mathew said softly. "It's nice."

"Yeah but not when it's this cold!" Gilbert argues. The great Kingdom of Prussia hadn't been the warmest place around during winter but, really, this was just ridiculous. It was only October and it already felt like they should be waiting for Tino to show up with everyones gifts.

Mathew just shrugged and turned the key. Listened to it turn over, once, twice, three times, and then sighed when it roared to life. The headlights blasted out a path in the otherwise dark terrain and then they were off - headed down to Maryland for Alfred's yearly Halloween party.

The drive there was spent listening to Mathew's Ipod, which consisted of everything from country to rock, all either Canadian or American bands, Gilbert singing off-tune to everything that came on. Mathew remained quiet, more so than usually, and only spoke when his Prussian passenger demanded of it.

It hadn't been Arthur who came in, and for that Mathew would be eternally grateful. Instead it was Alfred. The American nation crouched down beside him, understanding flashing in normally carefree eyes, and rested a hand on Mathew's head. "It's okay, Mattie. I feel it too. Salem's always burning."

They pulled into Alfred's house only an hour or so after the party started. Gilbert was out of the car in a shot, door slamming behind him, and running up to the gaudily decorated house. Mathew followed him in a slower pace, taking the time to help Kumachika down from the tall vehicle and locking it up behind him. Loud music blared out of the house and orange and black lights lit up everything. There were blow-ups and props of all kind lining the long, winding walkway.

It was everything that a person could want out of a Halloween party. And, now, that was all that it was to Alfred. Just another holiday where he could stuff his face and earn some extra cash. It was fun for the other nation, just like it was for all of the nations. Sure, Alejandro and Antonio took it more seriously but not by much.

The passing centuries had dulled the remnants of pain that the fires had caused and cleared the smoke from their centuries. The other wars had made more of a fuss and pushed this one, the one that Mathew always remembered on the thirtieth, to the back of their minds.

Halloween.

All Hallow's Eve.

The night of ghosts. The night of magic. The night of witches.

And the night where Mathew mourned for all those who died for something that they couldn't help having.