Matthew was running around the big house searching for anyone to help him. "Arthur! Francis! Alfred! Anyone!" The halls were empty. Not even portraits that had once hung on the walls were there. Matthew dashed down the stairs and gasped at the sight of the empty living room. His heart clenched tight. He couldn't breathe right. Where was everyone?!

"Matthew…" Alfred's voice? Matthew turned sharply, relief plain as day on his face. But what emerged from the shadows wasn't his brother. It was one of the ugliest things he had ever seen, calling his name and reaching out for him. His heart once again sinking to his stomach, Matthew dashed back up the stairs and into what he once thought was his room. But it was empty like everywhere else in the house. Slamming the door shut, he pressed his back against it and sat on the ground. His breathing was quick and his heart was thundering in his ears.

But another sound reached him. It was an irregular thumping sound, followed by a moaning of words Matthew couldn't make out. That thing was coming up the stairs?! He pushed against the door as hard as he could and listened closely to the dreaded sounds. After ages of listening to the same thumping he heard a long drag across the carpet, and a loud thump.

It was at the top of the stairs.

The dragging continued as Matthew swallowed hard. Please don't find me. Please don't find me. Pleasedontfindme! His thoughts were screaming in his head. It was enough of a distraction, until he realized that the thumping and dragging had stopped. Was it gone? Really gone? Matthew slowly pushed off of the door and looked up at the knob.

"Matthew…" Oh god, it was right in front of the door. It's voice no longer matched Alfred's. There was a deep rumbling sound on the other side of the door, and then an incredible amount of force was thrown at the door. Matthew pushed back against it as he did before.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" Matthew yelled, pulling his knees up and clutching his head. The thing was trying to break down the door, shaking Matthew every time it threw itself at it. All Matthew could think about was where everyone else went. He needed someone. He needed his family with him. Matthew didn't want to be alone…

"Matthew…"

"No!" he screamed, his body tightening up. "You can't come in!"

"Matthew! Wake up! You're scaring me!"

The Canadian came to realize that he was being shaken. His blue eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, nearly hitting his brother in the head as he did so. Alfred glared at Matthew then. "You were yelling and telling me to leave you alone! What's up with that?!"

Matthew stared at Alfred, bewildered. While still trying to catch up with reality, the door to his and Alfred's bedroom opened. Arthur poked his head in. "What's all the fuss?"

Alfred pointed a finger at his brother and looked at the elder nation. "Matty was yelling at me in his sleep!" His eyebrows were furrowed to complete the upset child look on his face.

The Briton sighed and opened the door further, walking into the room. He sat down on the bed on Matthew's side and smiled at the small Canadian. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Matthew stared up at Arthur and blinked. His expression suddenly twisted as tears filled his eyes. The blond put his face in his small hands and started crying. "It was t-trying to g-get m-me…" he managed to speak through his fierce hiccupping. In the midst of his crying, he was lifted into the air and placed in a comforting lap.

"There there, Matthieu." Francis' gentle tone reached Matthew's ears as his hair was smoothed. Matthew clung to France's shirt and sniffled, no longer feeling the need to cry even though a few tears still fell from his eyes.

Arthur's green eyes stared back at Matthew's bright baby blues. "Nothing's going to harm you now." He said, wiping Matthew's tears with the back of his fingers. "You're safe, Matthew." It had occurred to him that the American was missing. Looking around the room for Alfred, he found the boy rummaging through a toy box. He almost fell in when he found what he wanted. Arthur almost got up to help him, until Alfred was back on his own two feet. When he turned, there was a storybook in his hands.

"England," Alfred said, bounding over to the Briton. He held up the book and smiled brightly. "Read us a story!"

Arthur took the storybook and chuckled. He glanced at Francis, who was smiling at Alfred, then at Matthew, who was snuggled in Francis' arms. His little smile reflected that he was happy to be there. "Well, I suppose one story won't hurt."

"Yay!" Alfred exclaimed. He scrambled onto the bed and got under the covers.

Arthur turned in his place on the bed so that he faced the other three better, and opened the book. "What shall I read to you?"

Alfred pondered this as Francis stood with Matthew in his arms. He turned and pulled back the sheets, laid the half-asleep Canadian down, and pulled the sheets back over his small body. "Oh! I know! Read the one about the cowboys!" Alfred made a gun with his hands and "fired" it at the air a few times, sure to back it up with his own personal sound effects.

Francis sat back on the bed and stroked Matthew's blond hair. He looked at Arthur, who was flipping through the pages of the book until he found the one Alfred had asked for.

"Once upon a time…"