Well, this is a short one. Basically, I had a sudden flash of memory of seeing something similar to the opening scene and thought, hey, if that happened, what happened to America afterwards?

"They're both very important to me."

England lay still on a bed. He looked peaceful, as if he was sleeping. The only thing to say differently was the blood covering his clothes and face. His clothes were ripped and ragged and a small book rested on his stomach. If one were to look closely, they would discover it was a magic book.

In a bed beside him lay Canada. He looked just as peaceful but his situation was the same. His crossbow and arrows lay on his stomach and one hand seemed to be gripping it. Beside him on the bed was a ball of bloodied white fur. Kumajirou also looked as though he was sleeping but, again, the wounds which were clearly visible told a different story.

One hand of each nation dropped down between the bed and were currently being held by someone...

America was on his knees, sobbing as quietly as he could. His hands wrung the dead nations'. His gun lay in his lap. There was blood covering his bomber jacket and uniform – it wasn't his. Texas had slipped down his nose and was in danger of falling off but, unlike most days, he was unconcerned.

How much longer would he be here? How much longer would it take to get out of this nightmare?

It had been quite some time since Italy and the others had left him. By all accounts, he should have gone with them. He should be there, protecting them, being the hero. But how could he? He had failed to save England and Canada and now they were gone. There was no way to save them any more. He had failed as a hero.

Perhaps he had never been a hero.

He shook the thought from his head. No. The only reason he was still here was to protect England and Canada one last time. He would make sure that the Thing didn't touch them even if it killed him.

Which it probably would.

But he didn't care.

He heard the door open and he froze, listening. Was it Italy come back with the key for the front door? Or was it that jerk who had taken England and Canada from him? He stayed where he was, not moving, waiting to see.

The floorboards creaked as someone thumped over them. It was an all too familiar gait now and America dreaded to see what it looked like now. The purple Thing appeared in his line of view – it was larger and more odd-looking than ever. It turned to him.

He knew he was in here.

America stood up and placed England's hand on his chest. He did the same for Canada before picking up his gun. The Thing was staring at him, waiting for him. America glared back.

"You killed them. As a hero, I can't forgive you. I'm going to stop you from hurting anyone else now!" With that, America darted forward, trying to draw him away from where England and Canada were. He didn't want them getting swept up in the fight.

The creature attacked, leaping forward. America dodged around him and lured him further away from the two still people. The creature watched before moving forward slowly. America waited till he was as far from those two important people as possible before raising his gun. He aimed carefully, intending to hit its head. He slowly began to pull the trigger, knowing that was better than pulling it suddenly due to the recoil.

Suddenly, the Thing sped up, attacking. America's eyes widened and he instinctively pulled the trigger as the Thing barrelled into him.

The gunshot echoed around the house.

I'm sorry if this caused you grief. Unfortunately, I'm not capable of compensating you. Unless, I dunno, I actually go and write the next chapters of my other stories, ha... ^^"

I'm quite happy with this one (for once), even if it is shorter than I expected it to be (one page?!). :)