England was once again in his basement, chanting eerily as he attempted the curse that Russia interrupted last week. He was trying to summon a demon not a psychotic nation that popped out of the ground or from behind corners randomly saying, "You call, da?"

England drew the incantation to a close as the lights from the magic circle glowed bright purple. He could feel the room grow cold as a dark and fearful aura appeared.

A pale head of hair and violet eyes appeared for the million time. "You-"

"Yes, yes, I know! 'You call, da?'" England said, fed up. "Damn it Russia!" England screamed, marching up the basement stairs.

Behind him, Russia pulled himself out of the floor, following the much shorter nation. His child like smile was set innocently on his face. "Ah, England. You seem upset, yes?"

"Damn right, you tosser! You're always interfering! Why must you always interrupt my summonings, Russia?"

Russia looked at the shorter country, surprised. His smile fell before coming back full force. "You see, England," Russia started, a serious glint in his eyes. "It's funny to them. The демон send me as a joke. They seem to enjoy me, da?"

England glared at Russia. "Do you take me for an idiot?"

"Honestly? Yes."

The two stared on at each other.

"They do it just to mess with us. I was in the middle of something very important, actually." Russia pulled out his water pipe, showing still warm, still dripping blood.

England didn't dwell on it.

"I think they're annoyed with you~" Russia admitted. "You call on them a lot."

"Well, they should just come in the first place, the wankers! If the damn twats just came and answered my calls, I'd be done with them!"

"They expect you will become reliant on them." Russia started to clack. "But, you see, I like them quite a bit."

England drew back.

"But they like me as well. They play on that and the past sadnesses that one has felt. They think me a prime example of this."

Suddenly England felt a pang of sadness. Memories from so many years ago flooded to him. The years from his founding...

All the way up the the American Revolutionary War and everything in between.

Russia grinned wider, seeing a pained look on England's face. Much to England's dismay, Russia set a hand on his shoulder. "Da, That happens to me a lot too."

England looked Russia straight in the eye, leaned forward a bit and said:

"Get the bloody-fucking-hell out of my bloody-fucking house, TOSSER!"

In that moment, in a rush of annoyance and anger, England pushed Russia out of his house.

When England slammed the door, he stared at it, thinking deeply.

Tonight he was going to drink. Dammit.

Russia also stared at the door before leaving. A small boy with the same colored hair, eyes, and scarf walked next to him, his heavy coat slightly too large.

"Will he bother us anymore?" The child asked in a gravely and deep voice, not at all fitting his sweet face.

"Maybe, comrade. But I really would appreciate you not pulling me out during the fun times, yes?" Russia spoke cautiously.

"Maybe, comrade." The child said in the same heavy accent, large shadows crawling from under his coat. "Just give us another taste of your misery."

The shadows wrapped themselves around Russia, tentacles and claws caressing him, leaving chill bumps where they touched.

The shadows covered Russia's eyes, blacking out the world.

Only seconds later, they removed themselves, showing a memory.

However, it was warped and twisted.

Little Russia was standing, shivering under the stare of the Allies. They wanted his land and his family. They wanted to kill him.

"Hey, Russia." An angry voice barked, making Russia jump.

"Y-Yes?" Little Russia said absolutely sweetly, a bright grin on his face.

"After the war, you don't get anything, aru!" China said cruelly. "In fact, we're going to split your land between each other!

Russia whimpered. It was then, he decided to take China and make him his best friend!

Maybe he didn't mean that. Maybe all of the sinners should become one with him...?

The scene went dark once more, only to open back to light. Russia looked down at the ground that now seemed so far away.

Russia could feel more of his mind slip away into innocent thoughts and child-like cruelty that came with power that was available since a young age.

The little demon boy smiled up at him. "Don't worry. We're still your friends."

Russia's eyes were dry and emotionless, But his smile was plastered on his face still.

"Friends." The demon boy repeated, grabbing Russia's hand, drawing him deeper into the madness.