–Seven Little Killers- Lucky-Angel135

"Write Your Own Scene"

X3: Fanfic of a fanfic, whoo~! Well, I had this project in my English 1 class, in which I had to do two activities from this list on one certain novel. I went and asked my teacher if instead of a novel I could do a fanfic, and she said yes! :D So I chose Seven Little Killers~ because it's just awesome. XD This right here was one of the activities I had to do; "Write Your Own Scene", make up your own new scene within the story, or take an existing scene and change some things about. I did the "change the scene" one.

Setting: Deep inside the "river cave"; America is on his knees, Canada is standing in front of him holding a gun up to his forehead. (Chap. 37)

Warnings: Angst, lots of angst[y Canadian thoughts/slap'd], Violence

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or SLK!

Chapter 37 – Final Eye Opening Chapter: Demon Twins

I stared into the blue eyes that belonged to my brother; that use to belong my brother. Now they were dull and faded; the brilliant blue a lifeless and washed-out gray. This wasn't him, this wasn't Alfred; this couldn't be Alfred!

"I don't want to be like this," he whispered softly. "I don't want to hate anymore." At that moment you might say that the dam finally broke. I felt the wetness on my cheeks as the tears began. I quickly pulled up my free hand and started to wipe them away, only to have them replaced by yet another fleet of tears. How could this be happening? Just when did everything become so screwed up?

"Please bro," America pleaded. He tugged on my sleeve a little harder, causing the barrel of the gun to press up even closer against his forehead. It was as almost if the closer it was the safer he would be; like his life depended on it. In a sick way for him it probably did, but truthfully it didn't; it would actually do the exact opposite. "Please pull the trigger." But he wanted death; living for him right now was hell in itself.

I gawked at him, unsure of what to do. He wanted me to kill him, but I knew that wasn't possible. Even with the extreme anger and killing lust that entered me before, the fact still remains that I stopped. I stopped as soon as I saw how truly broken my brother was. How shattered the ruins of what was left of my brother were; if there was even any of my brother left that is.

Still, those dull eyes full of misery stared back at me; begging for me to liberate him from the nightmare that was his life.

Impossible.

He wanted me to let him go, yet I still couldn't do it. He wanted me to release the trigger, but my finger didn't budge.

How selfish am I?

I suddenly remembered how Denmark had to kill Norway. Even though it was forced and he didn't want it, he still did it. He did it for Norway wouldn't have to suffer anymore; but I just realized: I don't have half the guts to do the same with Alfred. I can't save him and finally for once be his hero. I'm still too much of a coward; too weak. To selfish to let go even when I know holding on will just make it worse.

The gun slowly retreated a little from its target.

Even though he told me he lied about us staying together until the end of this. Even though he set me up and was using me.

The finger pressing the trigger relaxed slightly.

I closed my eyes, knowing my decision. It wasn't a surprise; I knew I wouldn't be able carry out my brother's wish. But when I opened my eyes again to look back at Alfred, I saw something I never want to see ever again. Alfred seemed to have sensed that I had chosen to go against his will, and his face definitely showed it. His mouth was twisted in a deadly scowl, and his whole face seemed to have a darkened shadow dancing over it. But what really caught me were his eyes. The color had come back to them but not in bright shine of blue it was supposed to be. No, this was an ice cold blue, in such a shade that one might think it was possible to be frozen by it.

The murderous glare included many different emotions; from betrayal, to fury, to even twisted frustration. The gaze alone made me feel like a thousand daggers were being thrown at me; piercing my body and leaving me to bleed out my guilt. Yet even in my utter horror, something else stirred. It was small, but it was still there; my own fragment of anger.

The finger tightened.

I wasn't sure who or what it was directed at, but I do know now it was a mistake to let it get to me.

The trigger was released.

At first I didn't know what happened. My ears were ringing and all I could see was red. Once my head cleared, it took everything I had to look down; and then not to vomit. Lying in the still increasing puddle of his own blood was America. A look of downright confusion and disbelief etched his crimson stained face. His eyes were still open, wide and surprised, however they were already beginning to cloud over. I flinched slightly when they glanced over at me, filled with bafflement. But if anything, I was the one that was perplexed. Didn't he want this? Wasn't he just the one who asked me to shoot him?

Then as if I had been slapped clean in the face, it hit me. I watched as my brother closed his eyes and gave out a light sigh before becoming still. All of my rage and irritation from before came rushing back to me. He had just tricked me again! I wanted to take the gun and shoot him until there were no bullets left; until he was just a disfigured and bloodied pile of mess. But I knew in the end it would just be a lost cause.

I cursed myself for not realizing it sooner, not realizing that America's capital, Washington D. C., was still not destroyed. A nation's capital was their heart; with it they were immortal, but without it that immortality was lost. America was still alive, maybe unconscious for a while until his body was able to fix the damage, but still alive. Nation's also had a higher healing ability than regular humans. So even though his cranium might've been busted open and a bullet might be lodged in his brain, his body could still fix it. It might take awhile alone though, and he might end up being forced into a coma.

I trembled slightly, my bloodlust suddenly subsiding. One might be incredibly annoyed about how easily I forgave him, but I forgave nonetheless. Seeing his now peaceful and more relaxed face I remembered that, this was still my Alfred. My brother was still there, even though the current one crippled by insanity was almost, if not always, the one that was in control. He was there, waiting and lurking in the shadows, and as long he was still there I would continue to stay by his side. And by staying at his side I would also continue to help him.

The best way to start helping him now was to stop the bleeding, because that was one thing a nation's special body can't actually reverse. I bit my lip guiltily as I remembered how I gave Norway to Yellow to use basically as an inkpot; an inkpot that never ran out of ink in other words. The sick sadist used the blood of the Norwegian in his games with China; which he called his "china doll". The thought made me shiver; no wonder Norway already looked nearly dead when I got him back.

I shook my head and cleared the thought, coming back to the present. As I bended down to get on my knees, I took a good look at America's new wound. The gash was like a little crater in his forehead. There was one speck in the middle showing were the bullet had gone through. Even though that was the source of most of the blood, the surrounding flesh seemed to have also caught some of the impact and was also bleeding a good amount. From his forehead, the blood had trickled down his face and onto the cave's floor, creating the miniature puddle that my brother's head now lay in. Soaking in the blood, his dark blond hair was also stained crimson.

My hands shook while I was ripping part of my undershirt off. With the detached piece of cloth, I gently tied it around Alfred's head, like a headband, making sure to cover the wound. I managed to tear off a lot of shirt, just for there could be enough layers to stop the bleeding. When I was finally done, I carefully dragged him to another spot in the cave. Laying him down, I realized that it would still be better to get him to a hospital, or some place that could treat him. But it wasn't like I could just waltz into a hospital, or really into public, without getting questioned. Canada-scratch that, they probably wouldn't even know who I was-Where did you find him? How? Who shot him? The list could go on and on, and the fact that America was actually wanted right now couldn't be ignored.

It was time to add my own step to my brother's plan. Alfred was wanted right now, but I could change that. I would lure someone, or rather them, down here and tell them how I- Canada -was the one who was Blue, not America. I chuckled lightly, knowing that just I while ago, that would be a true fact in my own mind. Then, thinking I was Blue and seeing America in the state he was in, would believe him innocent. I would sneak away while they were distracted, and then hopefully, left with a passed out and injured America, take him to a hospital for me. The tricky parts were, one: how to lure them, and two: what would happen after Alfred was in the hospital. I had to take my chances, I couldn't let my brother fall into a coma; and I already knew who I was going to bait.

Those meddling investigators, Italy, Germany, and Japan, would be just perfect. A smirk formed on my face, and the way I would bait then would be…

Italy ran around gleefully; Prussia had agreed to help them out with Japan's plan! And unlike Germany and Japan, he didn't mind the Prussian's resulting condition; it was just cross-dressing right? The Italian hummed to himself as he skipped; they were currently going to an airport to ride a plane to go to Canada's house.

The other three walked slightly behind the happy Italian, each one lost in a cloud of depression. Except underneath Prussia's was also a smug triumph, he still felt the pride from making the other three cross-dress also. Both Japan and Germany looked warily at Italy, wondering how he still could be so happy. But then suddenly the brunette stopped in his tracks.

"Italy…?" Germany asked cautiously. Italy had just stepped on something, and was taking the time to remove his boot from it and pick it up from the ground. It was a folded piece of paper, a note from the looks of it. The Italian quickly opened it up and started reading it.

"Italy-kun, what does it say?" Japan questioned; the other three nations had caught up with Italy, and were just as curious about the letter. Italy closed his eyes thoughtfully, and then opened them again.

"We have to go to the cave right now." Italy answered; a strange urgency in his voice.

"But, Italy-kun, why? Don't we still need proof—"Japan started; puzzled. Italy shook his head and slowly held out the note to the others.

"This might…be enough proof…" Italy mumbled softly. It was very out of character for the Italian, which made Japan suddenly not want to read it, but in the end he did anyway.

Hello! How are you doing so far?

If not so well, I'll give you a clue.

Something's missing, someone's missing; but not in the way or who you think it is.

They're still there; in the wonderful place where a roaring beast of water calls home.

I'll be waiting for you at the entrance and then show you the way.

But you better come, and then keep up.

If you don't, I might just get bored and

Kill him then and there.

-Blue

A lone figure watched silently and secretly, watching four others in the distance. He didn't know what they were about to go do, but that didn't matter anymore. He giggled to himself, an insane grin forming on his face as he saw them change their initial plans and take his bait.

Step 1 complete.

X3: /I can't write gunshot wounds uurrrgg- .'' I love the letter/note at the end~. hehe

Read and Review please! :3