They arrived in a group of five. America, England, Italy, Japan, and Canada.
They were going to have fun. They were going to explore the supposedly haunted mansion and enjoy themselves and laugh at everyone who believed those silly rumors because ghosts and monsters weren't really real.
Or at least, that's what they thought.
"Wow," America said, spinning around to take in everything. "This place is so clean. There isn't even any dust on the banister."
Japan peered down the hallway. "Why don't we go that way, first? We can start from the bottom floor and work our way up."
America grinned. "Let's do it!"
But just before they were about to go, they heard footsteps, footsteps that were too loud and too heavy to belong to any human.
America turned around in confusion, searching for the owner of the footsteps. "H-hey…Do you guys hear that?"
Before anyone got a chance to reply, the monster was on them.
It came from the hallway they had just been about to walk down, moving faster than anything that size had the right to. Its huge, black eyes stared at them, looking almost determined to catch them.
And then everyone was running. There was no hesitation, no question of whether or not to fight, it was just run, run, and get as far away as possible. America was no exception. He ran for the stairs, grabbing a frozen England's hand as he went and dragging him along until he returned to his sense and ran beside him.
They didn't stop running until they were completely exhausted. They had reached the third floor by then. England leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, while America slowly looked around the corner, looking to see if that thing had followed them.
"I think it's gone…" America said, turning to look at England. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," England replied, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He looked around the hall. "Where are the others?"
America shrugged. "They must have run off in different directions."
England pushed off from the wall and stood up straight. "Then let's go find them."
America nodded in agreement. "Let's try the second floor."
"And don't get separated from me," England added. "We don't know where that thing is."
With a plan in mind, the two began their search, descending to the second floor. England turned the first knob he saw and made a noise of irritation when the door remained firmly shut. The same was true of the door across the hall from the first.
"Are all of these bloody doors locked?" England grumbled.
"I'm sure there's an open one somewhere," America replied as he approached the next door. "This one looks likely."
England crossed his arms. "Then open it."
America grinned at him before turning the knob. The door opened easily. "What was that about locked doors?"
"You're insufferable," England said, marching past him into the room.
However, no one was in the room. The same went for the next two rooms they checked. There were closets that looked like they'd never been opened and beds that were neatly made and couches that were still a pristine white and even TVs without a speck of dust on them, but there weren't any nations.
"Let's try the bottom floor," America suggested as they left the last room.
But they didn't have much more luck on the bottom floor. Almost every door they tried to open was lock except for the bathroom, and there weren't any signs that anyone had been there.
"Maybe they went upstairs while we were searching and missed us," England said. "Why don't we head back up?"
"Or maybe they left," America replied. He walked to the front door and gripped the knob, but no matter how hard he tried, the door wouldn't open. He stepped back from it. "Or maybe not."
"Then let's – " England began, but before he could finish his sentence, they heard a crash coming down from the hall where the thing had originally come from.
America didn't even think about it. He took off down the hall, England a few steps behind. In a few seconds, they reached what looked to be a kitchen.
But by then it was already too late.
The thing was there, but it was fading away, soon disappearing completely. And on the ground in front of where it had been was Japan. His sword was on the ground beside him, and he was clutching his side, and there were wounds along his arms, and the blood, so much blood, all over the floor where he sat.
"Japan!" America ran over to him and knelt beside him, England following.
Japan looked up at America, and he could see the pain in the smaller nation's eyes. "America. England. You made it…"
America could see the wound in Japan's side now, a long, deep gash that extended from mid-chest to hip. "Hang on, Japan! We'll bandage that up and stop the bleeding, and then we can find Italy and Canada together. England, find something to use for bandages!"
But Japan shook his head. "No. There is nothing you can do. I've lost too much blood."
America shook his head, denying the evidence he could see all around him. "No, you're not! You'll be fine!"
"America." A weak hand gripped his wrist, and he stared at Japan. There was a small, sad smile on his face. "It's okay. I'm not afraid to die. As long as I'm not alone."
America didn't say anything, didn't do anything, for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "We'll stay with you."
"Until the end," England agreed, kneeling down on Japan's other side.
Slowly, Japan lay down. He closed his eyes, and a soft sigh escaped from his lips. "Until the end…" he repeated quietly. He didn't say anymore, and soon America couldn't see his chest rising and falling with breath, with life, and Japan's grip on his wrist had relaxed.
It took a few minutes before America could bring himself to stand up. He gazed down at his fellow nation, his friend. Japan looked so calm, so stoic, even in death.
A moment later, England stood up beside him. "We should…look for the others," he said shakily.
America could only nod. He began to make his way to the exit, but before he reached it he turned around and said, "I'm sorry, Japan. I'm sorry we didn't get here in time. I'm sorry we can't give you a proper funeral or a proper burial. I'm sorry I told you about this place. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" His vision blurred, and he had to stop speaking to choke back a sob.
England rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You did all that you could," he said softly. "And I'm sure he didn't blame you."
"I brought him here," America said. "I…If I hadn't…"
"No, none of that," England said sternly. "What's done is done, and we need to focus on finding the others."
"Yeah…Yeah, you're right." America swiped his wrist across his eyes.
"Let's try the top floor," England said. "We haven't checked there yet."
This time, England led the way, with America trailing behind. They climbed floor after floor, and they saw no signs of anything, of Canada or Italy or that thing.
When they finally reached the fourth floor, England went over to the closest door. It opened without a problem, and he stepped in, looking around. America was close behind.
This room wasn't much different from the other rooms they'd been in. The only difference was a lever in the corner of the room, with a piece of paper on the wall next to it.
"What is this, then?" England walked to the lever and read the paper. "Up is Heaven, middle is Earth, down is Hell…Well, let's pull it up and see what happens." He gave the lever a push. For a moment, nothing happened.
America never saw the fist coming.
One second he had been standing next to England, and the next he was flying across the room before smashing into a wall.
"America! Run!" England shouted. There was a series of flashes, then a shout of pain.
America rolled over slowly, dazed. There was England, backed up into the corner with his left leg bent at an unnatural angle. And there was the thing, and it was slashing its hand at England, and suddenly there was blood covering England's chest.
"Run!" England yelled again, and then, "Expecto Patronum!" The thing recoiled as England's magic hit it, but then it was on the attack, and it was preparing the final blow. England closed his eyes, bracing himself.
And then America's gun was in his hands, and he fired two shots at the thing.
The thing turned to face him, menace in its eyes. It turned and began walking toward him.
"America, no…run…" England said.
"I'm not leaving!" America replied as he fired shot after shot at the thing. But it soon reached him, and one swipe of its hand sent him skidding across the floor. Pain flared in his side, and when he looked down he saw a long gash, similar to Japan's.
The thing was coming after him, but now England was attacking, and it turned to face him again. America aimed his gun at it and began firing again.
This went on for several minutes, America and England alternating attacks to prevent the thing from getting too close to either of them, until finally, finally, it disappeared.
America dropped his gun and crawled over to England, pushing up next to him with his uninjured side. "We did it," he said quietly.
England nodded. "Yeah…"
They sat there quietly for a moment. Then America found the courage to say what was on both of their minds. "This is the end, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is."
America leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was tired, so tired, and he just wanted to sleep. "But…this isn't so bad…"
"Yeah," England replied. "At least…we're not alone…"
On an impulse, America reached out and grasped England's hand. "We'll stay beside each other. Until the end, right?"
"Until the end," England agreed.
The last thing America was aware of was England's hand in his own.