The sequel won by a landslide, folks! Majority rules so here's what I promised - a sequel. I hope you all will enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed Midnight Dancers. There will be plenty of things going on in this story so stick around! Thanks again for all the support!

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warning: Language.

Chapter One

"Papa?" he called out into the quiet house. "Are you home?"

Ten-year-old Antonio Vargas slid his backpack off his shoulders and set it to the floor. He noticed the scattered papers strewn about the coffee table. The laptop was resting on the couch, its screen black. The only thing missing was his father.

"He might be taking a siesta," Antonio mused aloud, heading towards the stairs. Upon reaching his father's room, the door was slightly ajar and just from that small opening he could see Lovino curled up on the bed fast asleep.

Antonio grinned mischievously, creeping inside the room as silent as a shadow. Jumping up, Antonio landed himself on top of his dad, expecting to be thrown into a wrestling match when the Italian woke up. But his dad didn't wake—in fact, he didn't even budge at the slightest.

"Papa?" Antonio shook the man's shoulder. "Papa, wake up. It's time to get up."

Lovino didn't move.

Why wouldn't his dad wake up? He usually did by this point. But there wasn't so much as a groan in protest, a twitch of his fingers or a shallow breath. Now that Antonio thought about it, his father did look a little pale. Maybe he was sick. Yeah. That's it. He was sick. No need to panic. Just stay calm. Placing his hand to his father's head, Antonio was shell-shocked—disturbed, even. Lovino's forehead was as cold as his face.

"Papa, wake up you're scaring me. You win the game, okay? Just wake up," Antonio blinked when his hand came into contact with something warm, wet and sticky.

Antonio jerked it back, staring at the crimson stain on his palm. Panic consumed him immediately, devouring him. Why was there blood on the sheets?

Antonio pushed his father over, gasping at the large hole in his father's chest. He wanted to scream but it was stuck in his throat. He wanted to cry but the tears didn't gather.

"You finally made it home," a dark voice chuckled.

Antonio spun, seeing cruel blue eyes and a gun as black as night. Marcello made a grab for him, his strong arms holding Antonio firmly against his body.

"Time to die," the cool barrel was placed to his head.

BANG!

"No!" Antonio thrashed in his sheets, thinking they were Marcello's arms still holding him in that suffocating embrace. "No! No! No! Get away! Papa!"

The light came on moments later and Lovino was seated at the edge of Antonio's bed calling his name but the boy didn't seem to hear him.

"Antonio!" Lovino placed his hands on both sides of his son's face, trying desperately to reach the frightened boy and get him to open his eyes and look at him. "Toni, look at me! It's all right!"

Emerald orbs shot open, darting around the room in frenzy. They then made contact with eyes identical to his and the tears he had yet to shed spilled over flushed cheeks.

"Papa!" Antonio fell into his father's arms and wept heavily, the horrifying images of the man's mutilated and frozen body flashed through his mind like a horror film on repeat. "Papa…"

"Shh, it's okay, Toni. I'm here," Lovino stroked Antonio's head which was damp with sweat. The nightmares had returned with a vengeance. They figured the time of peace was too long.

Almost every night after the whole ordeal with… a certain person (just saying the man's name was taboo and struck a chord of fear in Antonio's heart), the boy woke up screaming and running a fever. Antonio hadn't slept alone up until two years ago and didn't leave his father's side unless absolutely necessary. The nightmares still infested Antonio's fragile mind, however. He would still get them every few weeks or so and had now gone a full year without being disturbed.

And he was doing so well, Lovino thought, kissing his son's head.

There wasn't a day that went by that Lovino wished he would've had the strength and courage to pull the trigger and be rid of the man responsible for all this fear and anxiety. Sure it wouldn't have cast away the traumatization but it would have at least spared them the paranoia.

Watch your back.

The desire to kill his former love ran strong in Lovino's veins again. Why didn't he just kill the man then and there? Marcello was clearly suffering and ending his life would've been the humane thing to do.

At least that's what his logic was telling him.

Maybe I really am my father's son.

"He killed you, Papa…" Antonio hiccupped, burying his face in Lovino's shirt. "He killed you. And he was going to kill me… I was so scared…!"

"Antonio, look at me," Lovino said.

The boy lifted his head, his eyes still spilling tears. He sniffled, trying to wipe away the annoying liquid. He was ten-years-old—he shouldn't be crying. He wasn't a baby anymore! He was a big kid! This was so embarrassing!

"Don't worry about him. Marcello's in jail. I know it's hard not to, but you don't have to be afraid," Lovino tried speaking in a calm tone.

Antonio visibly cringed upon hearing that cursed man's name again but what Lovino said was true—Marcello was indeed in jail for the crimes he committed as were the rest of the men involved in the scheme. The chances of his escaping were slim to none but Antonio couldn't help but feel nauseous at the mere thought of Marcello wandering the streets, searching for them, wanting them six feet under and remembered only by tombstones.

The reassurance in his father's voice was comforting though. As long as his dad was here, he'd be safe. He believed that. He had to believe that.

"You believe me, don't you?" Lovino's voice tore Antonio from agonizing thoughts.

"Yes," Antonio nodded solemnly. "I believe you, Papa."

It was then that Lovino offered a comforting smile and it was returned by Antonio's uneasy one. The Italian was so used to the Spaniard who was cheerful and blithe that seeing the boy having to fret over whether the nightmares would haunt him at night made Lovino unsure of himself.

There was a long pause between the two and this gave Antonio time to settle down but he still clung to his father, listening to the rhythmic beat of the man's heart. It was melodic almost, the music of a living and breathing human being. His dad was here. He was alive. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was safe.

He now had the sudden desire to hear his dad play the piano. The music, no what or how long he played, had a soothing effect on him. Maybe his dad would play for him—despite it being four in the morning. For as long as he could remember, just to console him, Lovino would play when Antonio was scared no matter the time. But that's when he was still a baby. If he asked, and even if his dad said no, it wouldn't hurt to seek out solace.

"Toni? Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," Antonio nodded slowly. "I'm okay. I was just wondering if…"

"If…?"

Antonio took a minute to reconsider his request and it died away on his lips, "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm sure. Sorry for bothering you," Antonio released his hold on Lovino's shirt.

"What makes you think you're bothering me?" Lovino raised an eyebrow. Why was he acting like this? So diffident, so solitary… it wasn't like Antonio to behave this way.

The nightmare was definitely a probably reason. But still, Lovino couldn't fight the feeling that there was more than his son was letting him in on…

"Antonio, what is it? I can't help if you won't tell me."

"Nothing, Papa; I'm just tired," Antonio threw an unconvincing smile at his parent. When he saw that Lovino didn't appear swayed he hid himself underneath his covers, mumbling that he was fine and just wanted to go back to sleep.

Lovino, not wanting to push the boy further, respected his wishes and placed a gentle kiss to Antonio's head. Returning to the door, Lovino flicked off the light, spared one last glance at Antonio's form illuminated in the moon's glow and closed the door.

Certain that his father was gone Antonio removed the blankets from his face and stared at his red and green walls. The moonlight made the shadows swallow up the room and the tree branches crawled the walls like scraggly fingers. He hoped that the darkness would take him before the nightmares did. He didn't want the torture. He didn't want the agony. And the only thing numbing it was lost hope.

Closing his eyes, Antonio was sent into the world of shadows, terror and insanity.

"Toni, are you ready to go?" Lovino called up the stairs, concerned that Antonio had yet to reveal himself.

"I'm coming, Papa," Antonio mechanically came down the stairs. The child already had his backpack on and was ready to go.

"Are you sure you want to go to school today?" Lovino took note of the dark circles shading his son's eyes.

"I'm positive," was the boy's reply.

"Okay," Lovino sounded uncertain. "Are you going to eat anything?"

"No. I'm not hungry."

Lovino nodded, "Okay. Have a good day."

"Bye, Papa," Antonio hurried out the door and met Sienna who was just passing by his house.

"Hey Toni!" the girl waved happily.

"Hola, Sienna," Antonio mumbled, not bothering to look at her or even stop walking.

Sienna was left confused as the boy kept on strolling along.

Antonio was sprawled out in the backyard among the tomatoes, eyes closed, soaking up the sun. A butterfly landed on his nose and tickled it but he did not wave it away. Lovino watched him from the window, absolutely puzzled. When Antonio had arrived home while walking with Sienna as he always did, the boy hardly said a word other than "hello" and went straight outside.

Sighing, Lovino went to answer his cell phone which was now ringing. He didn't even make the effort to check the caller I.D.

"Ciao."

"Ciao, fratello. Are you okay? You don't sound too good," Feliciano's mood lost its cheerfulness.

"Yeah—just tired. Toni's nightmares came back last night."

"Again? He was doing great!"

"I know, Feli. I know. He's acting strange now. Like he's bothered by something much more than the nightmares. He won't tell me what though. I was surprised he went to school today," Lovino said, never taking his eyes off the boy.

"Maybe Sienna can talk to him—you know they've always been really close," Feliciano suggested.

Lovino nodded though he knew his brother couldn't see it.

"Well we're on our way to help with dinner, fratello!" Feliciano's grin practically radiated from the other end of the line.

"All right, no need to yell in my ear, idiota!" Lovino held the device away from his ear. "I'll see you soon."

Hanging up, Lovino shifted his attention back to Antonio. The boy was still lying on the ground, the butterfly resting on his nose. Lovino wondered if Sienna could get through to him. Feliciano sounded too hopeful. But Lovino couldn't pessimistic. If anyone could get through to Antonio, Sienna could.

"You're really quiet today, Toni. Are you feeling okay?" Sienna raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah—I don't know why everyone is asking me that. I'm not sick," Antonio sat up.

"You've just been acting weird," the girl replied rather bluntly, a trait she had picked up from Feliciano.

"Weird how?"

"You're quiet, more edgy. Like when I put my hand on your shoulder today at school and you jumped," Sienna replied.

Antonio brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, withdrawing. She was right, he had been acting weird—he didn't even say that much to his dad when he arrived home. No one deserved to receive the cold shoulder no matter what mood he was in.

"Uncle Lovi's really worried about you, you know. I overheard my mom and dad talking about it. So what's wrong, little brother?" Sienna smiled sweetly to disarm the boy.

"Nightmares," Antonio said and understanding flashed in Sienna's electric eyes.

"Ah. So they've come back? I was hoping they were gone for good."

"Me too. I can't… I'm scared, I mean—" Antonio held his head in his hands, frustrated and confused. He couldn't explain his fear, the fear nibbling at him, mocking him, reminding him that it was there and there to stay.

"What're you afraid of, Antonio?"

"Him hurting me, hurting my dad. I don't want to be left alone… with him," Antonio didn't want to say the name burning on his tongue. Just thinking of the man made his heart race, his stomach drop, and mind reel with the memories of the week he was starved, beaten, and knocked on death's door. He could still taste the water from his close encounter.

"You're safe, Antonio. He can't hurt you or your dad. He's in jail," Sienna said.

"I-I know. But what if he escapes? Then he'll come after us and—and—" Antonio didn't dare think of the horrors that man had in store for them.

"Toni, Toni," Sienna put her hands on his shoulders, "he won't get out. You have nothing to worry about."

Antonio hugged the girl, trembling. And she hugged him back, whispering comforting words. It's not like she knew what he was experiencing. She was with her uncle Gilbert all the way in Germany. All she remembered was missing her mom and dad and having a good time with him. She was completely oblivious to what had happened in her hometown. Only when Antonio had woken up screaming during one of their sleepovers did she find out.

Antonio is incredibly strong, she thought. She was certain that there was no way in hell she would remain as cheerful as he was after what he endured.

Lovino observed the duo, "You were right, Feli. She got him to talk."

"I think he's more comfortable with Sienna because she is still a kid herself. I think he's afraid that if he tells you what's bothering him, you'll judge him," Feliciano was checking on the pizza in the oven.

"But I'm his dad. He knows I wouldn't judge him," Lovino couldn't help but feel a little put out.

"And you're right—he does know. But I think kids have a deeper connection with each other than with us adults. Sienna's the same way. Kids are always looking to impress their parents in everything they do and when they're ashamed of something, they'll do their best to hide it," Feliciano explained.

Lovino sighed, "You're better at this than I am."

His little brother laughed lightly, "You were kind of thrown into this, fratello. Ludwig and I were planning on adopting years before you even considered kids. You're still learning."

"What are you, my therapist now?" Lovino mocked.

"Maybe."

The timer on the over went off, indicating that the pizza was done. Feliciano opened the oven and pulled out the tray with an oven mitt and placed it on top of the stove.

"Perfect," he smiled, admiring the golden brown crust and enticing smell.

Ludwig helped set the table while Lovino went to fetch the kids.

"You guys hungry?" Lovino asked and they turned immediately.

"You bet I am!" Sienna shot to her feet and ran inside, leaving Antonio behind.

"Papa, I—I—" Antonio hugged his dad, struggling to hold back his tears.

"It'll be all right, Toni," Lovino knew what the boy was trying say.

Lovino rested his hand on his son's head and mussed his brunette curls, "Hungry?"

"Uh-huh!" Antonio's somber expression was replaced with a grin that rivaled the setting sun.

They went inside to enjoy the last peaceful dinner they would ever have again.

He inhaled the fresh air and let it cool his sweating face. He evened out his breathing from the long run he had just taken. His heart was ready to erupt from his chest with excitement and adrenaline. His muscles were on fire but it was the good kind of fire, the kind that urged him to keep going.

The stars twinkled brightly in the velvet sky and he smirked. He felt confident, assured. Nothing would be getting in the way of what he wanted this time. And what he coveted was blacker than night itself. There were no petty feelings, no one to tell him what to do and what decisions were best.

No one would be holding him back this time.

He was a free man and able to do as he pleased.

And how he reveled in that freedom—it tasted sweet on his lips, heavenly almost.

Revenge seethed inside his tattered heart and mind, soaking up the sensation of pure hatred. He grinned. It was wonderful, this aversion. Friendship, comfort, encouragement… love—he did not need these things. He hated those feelings! He detested them, spit on them! They had left him with nothing but a maimed heart and a mind bursting with madness.

And he had only one objective. And completing that objective was his life's goal.

He walked down the street with his head held high, arrogance shining with every step he took.

Camille, I haven't forgotten you. I promise that your death will not be in vain.

He could already picture the two headstones now, cold and isolated just as he was.

Lovino and Feliciano were cleaning up the dishes while Ludwig was keeping the kids occupied by having a wrestling match in the living room.

"Don't break anything!" Lovino yelled after Antonio and Sienna had tackled the German to the floor.

"We won't make any promises!" Sienna called back.

The older Italian rolled his eyes and began washing the plates, handing them to Feliciano so he could dry them. The chatter between the two was light with sounds of laughing resounding from the living room every few moments or so. The phone ringing broke this moment apart. Feliciano hurried to answer it, dismissing Lovino's objections.

"Ciao, Vargas household. This is Feliciano speaking," Feliciano smiled. "Oh hi, Davide~ how have you—yes, he's here… is everything all right?"

The smile was gone in an instant.

"It's for you, fratello. It's Mr. Moretti. You know, the man that helped us turn 'you-know-who' in," Feliciano held out the phone. "He says it's urgent."

"Hello?" Lovino put it to his ear.

"Mr. Vargas?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Davide Moretti. I would've come by but I don't have the time."

"Oh yeah, I remember you know. Feliciano didn't give me a first name," Lovino handed another plate to his younger brother. "What's the problem? Why would you need to come by my house?"

"Where are you right now?"

"At home, why?" the Italian raised an eyebrow.

"I need you and your son to pack up what you can and leave your house immediately," Davide was sounding more desperate by the second.

"What the hell is going on? An explanation sure would be fucking nice!" Lovino was beginning to get very irritated very quickly.

"It's Marcello."

Lovino stiffened at the name, "W-What about him?"

"He's escaped from prison."

The dish in Lovino's hand littered the floor with porcelain shards.