America didn't know how it had led up to this. He would've never expected something like this to ever happen. Maybe if he wasn't do oblivious to most things, he probably would've seen this coming. If only...
England. Oh, England. He had been through a lot, hadn't he? He has lived for hundreds of years. So many years full of pain, blood, and wars. That's the bad thing about being a country. No matter what you do, conflicts will find you. It's not escapable.
England didn't mean for this to happen either. He didn't mean to summon that demon. It was a complete accident. He tried to use a spell to make it go away. He truly did. But the demon had been faster. It controlled his feelings and made them a lot stronger than they used to be. It had brought our feelings that even England himself didn't know he has harbored.
The G8 Meeting that day had gone to hell. As soon as England came into the room late, everyone immediately knew something was off. His eyes had seemed dead and bloodshot. He wasn't dressed nicely like he usually was.
It was when he pulled out a pistol that everyone knew something bad was definitely going on. He had shot the windows of the room, the glass exploding everywhere, scaring a couple of the nations. Although, America had been more worried than scared.
It may seem like this was all the demon's fault. But all it did was enhance the dark thoughts and feelings that England had. All it did was make them stronger.
Even though the nations knew they couldn't die, they were still scared of the pain the pistol would bring them.
They were scared of England.
"England, please, put the gun away..." America says, trying to reason with him. He didn't want anyone to get hurt, and it's possible England could end of hurting his own self if he's not careful.
"What if I don't want to?" England asks, sneering. He chuckles creepily, sending chills down America's back.
"What will you do?"
At that, America pulls out the pistol he always keeps in his bomber jacket. He aims it England.
He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt England. But it seems like this'll be the only way to beat England. It was for the sake of the other nations. It's the right thing to do... right?
They stood still, as if time had suddenly stopped, their pistols pointed at each other.
"Doesn't this scene look familiar~" England says, grinning maniacally. "Although, this time, I will shoot."
This was definitely not England. England would never smile when it came to that topic. He would never have that crazed look in his eyes. This wasn't the England everyone knew.
"Eng—"
It's as if time had stopped once again. The only sound that was heard was the gun going off. The bullet had pierced America's shoulder, and the force of the impact caused him to stumble a little. He fell to his knees, blood beginning to stain his shirt.
Then the silence ended, and there was a scream from one of the other nations. It was unknown who it was. All anyone could think about was how everything was turning upside down so quickly.
England began laughing uncontrollably, a wide grin on his face.
"That's what you deserve, you little shit!" he exclaims, spreading his arms out wide. The laughing starts up again. Everyone can only watch in fear as the madness takes over him.
Suddenly, England drops to the ground, his gun falling out of his hand. To everyone's horror, he starts throwing up some kind of black substance, which quickly vanishes. Then England passes out.
XxXxX
Luckily, America didn't suffer much injuries. His wound would actually heal in about a week or so.
Everyone could tell that he was thinking a lot about what had happened. All he wanted to know was why and how this had happened.
It was only days later that they were able to figure out what had happened with the help of Scotland, one of England's older brothers. Being a magic user himself, he was able to explain to them after going through England's magic lair what had caused everything to go amiss within England.
Speaking of England... he was still unconscious. Ever since he had passed out, he hasn't woken up. It was actually worrying a lot of the countries, especially America. They were thinking that the demon had done something bad to him before it had disappeared.
Fortunately, England woke up a couple more days later...
He was sitting up in a white bed in a small room, wondering where the hell he was. He didn't remember anything after trying to use magic to make the demon go away. Did he succeed? Did he fail?
Other questions were circling in his head. He doesn't know how he got where he is right now. There's no way someone came to where he was staying for the time being and found him. That can't be it. But... he also doesn't remember going anywhere after using his magic. All he remembers was passing out.
Maybe his fairies got someone? No, that's impossible. Rarely anyone can see his magical creatures.
He growls, scratching his head in frustration. What the hell happened?
Suddenly, the door to the room he's in opens and in steps in a figure. He looks over to see who it is.
"America...?"
America gives a small wave before walking over to the bed. Odd... He's usually so talkative and hyper.
Something definitely happened...
"America, why am I here?" he asks in a low voice, trying to keep his calm and not explode on the American. That's when he notices something white underneath America's shirt. It was... bandages. But why...?
Before the American was able to answer, England reached towards America's shoulder where the bandages were.
"W-What happened...?"
England's hand is suddenly forcefully grabbed by America's own hand, surprising England. America locks eyes with England.
"Do you really not remember anything?" America asks. England can hear the faintness of worry in the Americans voice. That's not a good sign.
"R-Remember what?" Now England was really worried. What was it that he didn't remember? What was it?!
"England, you..."
XxXxX
It hadn't been long since America told England what had happened. He never told England what he had been saying when he was holding the gun. But, even though England didn't know what he had yelled during the time, just the thought of having shot someone he cared about was enough to make him start crying from guilt, while repeating "I'm sorry" over and over again. America kept trying to reassure England that it wasn't his fault, that he had no control, but to no avail.
"They were my feelings that had gotten stronger, not the demon's, so it was my fault!" England had yelled.
Even though they had been England's darkest feelings, feelings that England didn't know he had, America knew that England didn't have any control over himself at the time. This wasn't something he was going to hold over England. He'll always love England.
Now England was burying his tear-streaked face into America's chest. America held him close, stroking his hair, trying to keep him calmed down.
After a few minutes of silence, America heard England's soft voice.
"Do you really forgive me?"
America's hold on England's body tightened a little.
"There's nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong."
Despite not agreeing, England accepted the answer and eventually falls asleep in America's arms.