So, here's another angsty and horror-based A/U one-shot concerning Canada, America and England (I don't wanna start a long Fanfic 'cause I'm not very dedicated with updating -_-), and I feel kinda bad for uploading this as it is sad ;_;

Also, sorry about the lack of A/N on 'He Never Got Lucky In Love'... Don't know what happened there O.O

So, WARNINGS and info.

THERE IS A CHARACTER DEATH. Or two. Or three... I told you it was sad. Sorry :L

There are no pairings as such, as this is a BROMANCE-y fic. About friendship and sadness.

It is rated T because of blood, horror and swearies. But... if you think the rating should go up tell me.

It contains Psycho!Canada and Police!England and Police!America. I feel bad for using sweet little Canada-kun for a serial killer, but it is relevant to the story. So.

Weapons are mentioned. Guns, knives etc. Dunno if I needed to mention that but meh.

Disclaimer: I would like to own Hetalia, but judging by this fic I think it's best I don't O.o Enjoy (and be sad ;_;) and pleaaase R&R. I would love you 3

Three young boys stood in a line on the balcony of a skyscraper; on the left was a scowling, short dusky blonde, on the right stood a pale blonde child with a constantly startled expression and placed in the middle was a tall, beaming golden-headed boy. All three shared a meaningful glance as they stared towards the world before them.

The pale blonde blinked softly, and turned to his companions in confusion.

"We're like brothers, right?" he spoke softly, a single strand of curly hair bobbing as it was blown by the faint wind.

The shortest boy glared ahead, impressive eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Well, technically I'm not related to either of you, although you two are actually genetic brothers, so it really depends on-"

"Ah, it's close enough, right?" the tallest boy laughed obnoxiously, hugging his two 'brothers' close to him as he looked out to the city. "Anyway, we're not here to discuss our 'genetics'" – this he said with a mock falsetto voice – "We're here to discuss our futures," he grinned. "I'll start! I, Alfred F. Jones, will get a job as a HERO!"

The eyebrows boy rolled his eyes.

"It's not that simple. You can't just choose 'hero' as your profession. It has to be a proper job... like being a Policeman. That's what I'm going to be," he smirked pompously, as the golden headed child rubbed the back of his neck in confusion.

"Well, Policey-men save people, right? So I wanna be a Hero-policey-man!" Alfred giggled happily. "We can be Heroes together, right Artie?"

'Artie' sighed and crossed his arms.

"That's the last thing I'd want to do!... But I can't exactly help it I guess, 'Super Alfred'," he muttered mockingly, but he was smiling slightly despite his harsh words.

As Alfred whooped and cheered, the quietest boy coughed slightly.

"What about me?" He blinked owlishly behind his round glasses. Alfred and Arthur turned, as if they'd only just remembered he was there. Arthur looked a little guilty for not including him, and Alfred just shrugged in his carefree way.

"Well, you can be a policey-man too, Mattie!" he beamed, as if that was the obvious answer and therefore solved all of his problems. "We'll always be together!"

Matthew just sighed sadly. "But I don't want to be a Policeman... " he murmured softly, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"And on the News at Ten – Psychopathic serial killer 'Mattie Death' is still at large! Why is he doing this? What are his intentions? All we know is that the quiet banker Matthew Williams is no longer in existence, and in his place is a horrific, uncatchable murdere-"

Alfred flicked the 'off' button in uncontained anger, hurling the remote at the television in fury. It hit the television screen with a satisfying crack, and Alfred pretended that the screen was his brother's head, and the remote was a knife aimed straight at him.

His brother had become a serial killer. When Alfred had first heard, he'd been so shocked at hearing the words 'Matthew Williams' and 'murder' in the same sentence, he hadn't surfaced from his house for a week. Now, he was continuing to perform as a policeman, but was steering away from anything involving his brother's capture. It was too difficult, and Alfred was just pretending that it wasn't happening. It was unexplainable, and Alfred hated problems without answers: the problem being that his sweet little brother was now a mass-murderer on the loose, and there was no answer as to why.

However, Alfred felt guilty, because he had a nagging feeling that he was part of the reason his brother had been driven to insanity. He and Arthur had followed their dreams, living in the Big Apple (that had been more Alfred's dream to be fair) and constantly saving lives and fighting crimes. The offer for Mattie to join them had always stood, but the quiet boy had always softly refused, saying that they couldn't force him into it and that he wanted to work at a bank. So once they had left school they had, essentially, forgotten about him.

Matthew had sent them both various Emails over the years, asking about their health and how they were; and both policemen had just... forgotten to write back, or thought of it as spam or had been far too busy wrapped up in robberies and murders and now – now their friend was suddenly one of those crime scene men, a serial killer that had appeared from nowhere and was now all over the news.

His first murder had struck home to both boys. The victim had been Arthur's older cousin, Francis, and one or two other victims had been past acquaintances of the boys... and so Alfred felt that the attacks were almost personal, like his brother was getting his revenge for being ignored for so long.

But the likelihood was that he'd just gone batshit crazy. Poor Matthew. Poor him.

Alfred jumped, dragged out of his morbid thoughts as the phone next to him rang. He looked at the number. Arthur. Ah yes, the friend who hadn't gone evil and insane. He picked up the phone lazily.

"Yo, Artie. What's up-"

"I need you to get me help, NOW!" Arthur's voice growled desperately from the other end.

"Wha'? But it's our day off!"

"IT'S MATTHEW. I've spotted him sneaking to his old house, but I need you to get me back up! QUICKLY!" Arthur's voice yelled demandingly.

Alfred needed no further encouragement.

"I'll be there! I'll save you, and Mattie! Let's get his old self back!" he shouted in renewed vigour, pulling on his work coat and running for the door.

"NO, you IDIOT! You can't help! You'll let your feelings get in the way! You need to get help-"

But Alfred had already hung up. He was driving, furiously, thoughts pounding through his head like gunshots tearing through his skull.

"We'll be together again, as brothers. I'll fix this, for all of us," he chanted in his mind continuously.

"Where the crap is he?" Alfred thought wonderingly as he crept through the door. Always the reckless policeman, he had gone straight through the front door of Matthew's abandoned house without any thought towards his safety, and was now searching in every room, but to no avail so far. He did, however, fear for Arthur's safety, and how angry he would be that Alfred had ignored his cry for back up and had just appeared as himself.

Suddenly, there was a yell from the far bedroom; the only room left to check. He ran to it, gun clutched in his gloved hand and kicked down the door hastily; he couldn't care less if it was dangerous... he was the HERO!

The scene he came to shocked him.

Matthew was somehow pressing Arthur against the wall, his thin frame looking strong and wiry despite his grungy and blood stained attire. Arthur wasn't struggling, mostly due to the knife pressed forcefully against his throat, but a long stream of curses was flying from his mouth. Arthur's gun lay on the floor beside him, and another gun was held tightly in Matthew's frail hand. Beads of blood dripped sluggishly down the policeman's neck, and Matthew was leering at his discomfort in sickened glee. However, at Alfred's obnoxious and loud entrance, he spun round, keeping the knife at Arthur's throat but staring his sane brother in the doorway. The surprise was evident on his gaunt face, once soft blonde hair framing his features in a tangled, bloody mess. However, the surprise soon changed to contempt, twisting his familiar gentle features into a horrific and terrifying mask.

"Oh, you," he spat angrily. "You're the other one, my other brother who abandoned me without a second thought towards my well-being. My heroes both of you," he mocked, and released Arthur as he lunged for his brother with the intent of death. It was the only chance Arthur needed, and the rest happened in a blur for Alfred. As Arthur reached for his gun, Alfred yelled as a knife began to pierce his defending arm, thrust forward by his psychotic brother.

Suddenly, there was a sickeningly loud gunshot.

Alfred could only watch in horror as his brother fell forward abruptly, twisted smile still lingering on his features as blood flew from behind him and revealed Arthur, a smoking gun clutched between his trembling hands and a horrified expression on his pale face.

And so the happy group was minus one murderer, and plus another.

Alfred threw Arthur back onto the carpet violently, crushing his soft blonde hair into the coverage below him. If one were to interpret it wrongly, it almost looked to be a romantic and passionate scene– but of course due to the circumstances it wasn't. In fact, the carpet below them was tatty and now blood stained as opposed to soft and romantic, and though both Alfred and Arthur's eyes burned, it was not with passion – it was with hatred, and confusion, and panic, and betrayal.

"You KILLED him!" Alfred screeched in fury, holding his gun to the side of the smaller man's head. Arthur winced in fear for his life. When Alfred was this angry, he was unpredictable. And considering what had just happened...

"You can see that it wasn't intentional-" Arthur began, flinching angrily as the end of the gun pressed menacingly harder into his temple.

"DON'T MAKE EXCUSES!" Jones cried, his eyes flashing in uncontrollable anger and spittle flying from his screaming mouth. "You murdered him, in cold blood. I WATCHED YOU!" he wailed, hand shaking as he pressed the gun more forcefully into the 'murderer's' head.

Arthur shuddered as his brain tried to catch up to his body, currently held hostage by a gun to his temple.

"It was something that had to be done! He had gone insane – you saw him! And as much as I didn't want to fire, I did it in an act of desperation! He was going to KILL YOU!" he yelled, reaching up despite the possible consequences and gripping the younger man's shoulders forcefully, trying to get him to understand the horrific scene of events. Alfred just shook Arthur furiously.

"HE WAS MY FUCKING BROTHER! YOU FUCKED UP POLICEMAN!" Alfred screamed, deafening Arthur with his anguished cries. However, a second later his wild eyes filled with tears, and he pathetically rolled off the other law enforcer, removing the gun and collapsing on the dirty ground in wracking sobs.

Arthur stared guiltily over at the body lying in the shadows in the doorway, knife and gun still gleaming in each dead, cold fist. He was definitely dead.

"Your brother was a psychopath, Jones," he murmured softly, patting the shaken policeman gently, "He was going to kill you... and me. I had to do it." Alfred just sniffed remorsefully. Arthur shook his head. "Look, I told you not to come. I don't want to say 'I told you so'... But surely you knew that it couldn't end happily for you or your brother," he muttered brusquely.

Alfred looked up through puffy, leaking red eyes.

"I thought I could change him. I thought I could be his brother again, his... hero," he choked in distress. He gave a bitter, harsh laugh of contempt. "I'm such an idiot. Of course you had to kill him... he was insane. Fucking out of his twisted mind. No..no brother of mine would do that," he sniffed remorsefully, and stood up. Arthur let him go dully, mind still too caught up in thoughts for him to think sensibly.

He shuddered, heartbeat gradually slowing down now that his comrade held no threat to him. The gun lay on the floor, grimy and idle as it resided near the same gun Arthur had used to blast through Matthew's heart.

He'd shot through his heart. He'd killed him. He'd killed his 'brother'. On purpose. His heartbeat sped up again in panic. Oh bloody hell, he'd just killed someone! The realisation rippled through him like wildfire, and he stood up quickly in panic.

"We... really need to get out of here. Tell someone," he stuttered, the words forming incomprehensively in his mind. When no reply came, he looked up in confusion only to jump in horror.

Matthew, the man he'd just killed, stood in front of him with a confused expression on his pale, gaunt face, as if he couldn't believe he was standing there, seemingly alive. He was bleeding heavily, and he looked as if he were about to fall at any second. However, the most shocking thing was the guilty, pain-filled face that peered from behind the supposedly dead man's shaking shoulder, holding him up from behind.

"You helped him... " Arthur ground out in shock and fury, at a loss as to why his comrade had betrayed him, and quite how, considering he was sure he'd shot the man dead. Had he really been that wrapped up in his head to notice his... friend help the murderer? However, the horrendous betrayal was not important right now – killing the now almost zombie-like psychopath was the vital thing to do before he could do any more damage to either policeman. It was against the law to kill someone unless it was a life-threatening instance, but Arthur figured this could be counted as one, seeing as Matthew was now starting to grin at his second chance as the cold metal of the gun glinted in the darkness of his hand. The man would likely be dead in a few moments anyway, or at least that's what Arthur told himself desperately as he tried to think of a plan.

Slowly, he reached down for his gun. Alfred was shaking in the background, crying hysterically as his should-be-dead brother advanced on the policeman before him.

"Artie, I'm ... so sorry... Mattie, don't, we can leave, I'll get help, killing us won't help-"

"He hurt me," his brother coughed out almost disbelievingly, as Arthur stood up slowly with the weapon in his shaking hand.

Matthew had a gun. Arthur had a gun.

Alfred could only watch them. Both of them were trembling - the psychotic, insane brother of Alfred who had once been a quiet, sweet little child; now up against the British policeman, Alfred's comrade and closest friend who had just shot a man ruthlessly. Both his 'brothers'.

Both now enemies.

Alfred watched, barely able to look but still unable to look away. He wanted to help, but he knew that any sudden movement could cause one of them to shoot... and the consequences could be terrible.

Suddenly, Matthew's finger twitched and began to close on the trigger.

Time passed in slow motion, thoughts flitting through Alfred's mind like murderous bats. But he couldn't think. With a heroic cry (he hoped), he launched himself in front of the gun, watching as a small, perfectly round bullet flew towards his skull. He almost, almost smiled as it neared his sweaty forehead, and his last thoughts before his existence was shattered into nothing was,

"Now we can be together."

Arthur was immediately admitted to a mental hospital after the horrors he had been subjected to that day, and spent the rest of his life in turmoil and despair, before he ended his torment by strangling himself with the bed sheets in his clinic room. Matthew died after placing the shot, caving from the blood loss and fatal injuries.

So they all ended up together after all.

*Cries* I'm sorry! So sorry! Don't be sad. Now they're all just bumming around in the afterlife or whatever O.O Yay, happy endings... not. Sorry.

Um, and this may seem a lot to ask, but... R&R? Please? Help for my writing is always appreciated. But no flames please ;w;

This has NOT been Beta'd... so please point out mistakes :~)

Goodbyeeee for now~

P.S I'll try and do a happier fic next. I've got a ZoSan-ish one written down that I need to type up... *smirk*