They both stared at the pool of blood thoughtfully, displaying no kind of emotion at all.

"I can't believe he fell for that." Sweden finally said, sounding vaguely wistful.

"I can't believe you did that."

The room fell into silence as they continued to stare at it. Norway couldn't be sure if that person was actually feeling bad or if he was just pretending in order to lure him in. Either way, he wasn't going to risk it and end up like poor Finny. Then he heard that creepy, maniacal laugh and was glad he hadn't done anything.

"Did you see his face though? He thought he could trust me, the poor bastard!" Sweden chuckled. Norway was just about to retort when he was cut off. "Anyway, I'll be going to my room. I'm bored with you. You're neither depressed nor gullible. That's no fun, is it?" Without waiting for a response he turned around towards the rooms, holding a nonchalant hand in the air. "Later, sucker."

And then he was gone.

Norway was stumped on what he had to do. He knew he had to get rid of the new Sweden, that was for sure. But how? He was cunning, and not to mention physically stronger than him. He decided to go to Iceland's room and check up on him, just to make sure he wasn't being attacked or something.

He managed to get through the hallway before he felt something strange. It was like he was being pulled backwards. He tried to resist, but it was as if he was a fish on the end of a line, slowly being reeled in by an unseen hand. Eventually he stopped struggling and let himself get pulled along, taking one awkward step at a time through the kitchen towards the lounge. When he was only a few metres away from his destination the mysterious force pulled as hard as was possible, yanking him into the doorway and making him land on the carpet with a thud. He looked up. He was in the lounge. Crouching down by the fireplace was a man holding a box of matches. He lit match after match and held it by the perfectly chopped wood (Sweden's handiwork) in what could only be a hope that the logs would catch on fire. Of course they didn't. Once the match had burned down to his fingers, he threw it over his shoulder into a pile on the floor and started the process again with a new match.

Norway watched this for a while, hypnotised by the preciseness of his work and the blind continuation of the whole thing, even after having failed more than a hundred times. Still lying on the carpet, he finally began to take in the features of the man himself. He wore a red sailor suit, similar to his own, and had a strange device strapped to his back. To his surprise he looked exactly like Norway himself, save for a burn scar running down the right side of his face all the way down to his neck. Norway finally picked up the courage to walk up to him, heaving himself off the carpet with a loud grunt. The man did not look up from his work; it was if he hadn't even heard. Norway tapped him on the shoulder lightly.

"Excuse me, who are you and why are you here?"

Still not breaking from his work, the man replied, "I am your other half."

"That's absurd."

"Did you notice the similarities? Don't we look alike?"

"Well, yeah."

"Exactly."

He continued on in silence. His match supply seemed to never end. After a while Norway became irritated by the stupidity of what he was doing and picked up a bottle of lighter fuel on the mantelpiece.

"Here, let me help you." He sighed and doused the logs thoroughly with the strongly smelling liquid.

The next match instantly set the logs aflame. The heat warmed Norway in a way he thought wasn't possible. It was a kind of homely warmth that radiated off the quickly charring logs, despite his standing so close. The stranger stared at the flames, hypnotised by their dance.

Norway felt as if he should say something, but the stranger cut him off.

"Don't you ever want to just burn everything down?" He said, still not looking up from the fire.

"Sometimes." Norway admitted.

"You want to save your brother right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Let me lend you strength." The stranger looked up at him with a piercing gaze. Norway noticed that his eyed were blood-red, just as Sweden's had been.

"What do you mean?" He took a step back. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was a little creeped out. How the hell did this guy even get in anyway?

"Take this." His counterpart stood up and unstrapped the strange object from his back, handing it to him with a dreamy little smile. Norway reluctantly took it. The thing felt familiar to him, giving him the feeling that he had wielded it countless times; the wooden handle was as if it was shaped for his hands. Suddenly he realised what it was. A flamethrower. It was a portable one with gas canisters attached to the bottom, to escape the need for a backpack like-thing containing the gas.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Burn him down to the ground. He deserves it." The stranger's eyebrows furrowed as he grinned sadistically at him. Norway took another step back. He felt a sudden urge to burn something. Or someone.

"Thanks."

"It's my pleasure." The man winked at him.

Norway blinked, and the stranger was gone. The only thing left was the pile of matches on the floor and the fire still burning in the fireplace. Beautiful. He stared wistfully at the flames, as hypnotised as the stranger had been. He wanted to make everything as beautiful as that. With a sudden cry of rage he ran out the door and pulled the trigger on the flamethrower at the first thing he saw. It spat out a steady jet of flames, beautiful flames, at the painting hanging on the wall. Finland had painted it. Norway had always thought it was ugly, and now it was beautiful. He watched the canvas slowly turn to ash, eroding away from the middle outwards. This was fun. It was like a stone had been lifted from his heart. He felt a hundred years younger, and couldn't understand why he hadn't tried this before.

"I'LL BURN IT ALL!" he screamed and frolicked around the house, spraying everything in sight with the fire. He was laughing like crazy, a happy smile on his face.

As Sweden went into his room he noticed the red coat the stranger from last night had been wearing lying enticingly on his bed. It had a note pinned to it. He picked it up and read out loud. "Wear it, it could help you. Love from your counterpart." Without thinking he took off his own and tried the new one on. It fitted perfectly. He threw the old one into a heap on the floor. Red was a much nicer colour anyway. Suddenly he could hear Norway's crazy laughter from the kitchen. A grin spread across his face. Finally something fun seemed to be happening. He opened the door and was met by a wall of flames. This was gonna be interesting.

Sweden ran through the flames into the kitchen. He was met by a completely mad Norway.

"Hello there!" He cried, waving happily at him. Norway stopped spraying the fire everywhere and slowly turned to face him. "You know the gas is gonna run out if you're this liberal with that thing." He commented helpfully. A change seemed to come over Norway. His happy smile rapidly twisted into a frown and he jumped at Sweden, pulling the trigger and spraying the fire all over him. Sweden covered his face. Somehow he didn't feel like he was burning. He looked down quickly and noticed that his coat wasn't burning at all. It was fireproof. With one hand still in front of his face he laughed and lunged for Norway, who was still blasting him with a steady stream of fire. He caught him by the arm and tilted the flamethrower upwards, redirecting the flames towards Norway's face.

He couldn't let go of it, Sweden's hand has gripping his too tightly. His face was burning. Norway couldn't figure out if he liked it or not. The pain felt good in a way, but at the same time he wanted it to stop. They were both laughing madly, both had gone completely insane.

After a while the fire spluttered with a pathetic sound and the flames stopped licking at Norway's face. The gas had run out. Sweden let go of his hand, and the flamethrower clattered to the floor. Now that he couldn't see the beautiful flames, the pain intensified. Norway ran to the sink and stuck his whole head under the tap, not caring that his hair and clothes were getting wet. Sweden watched from afar, chuckling quietly to himself. After a few minutes of cooling his face, Norway emerged, completely drenched. A scar was already forming on the right side of his face, red and grotesque.

Denmark woke to the sound of chaos. The sound of muffled maniacal laughing could be heard from outside the room. He sat up and looked around. Iceland was sitting next to him, covering his ears with his eyes screwed up tightly.

"Hey. Iceland."

Iceland looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"What's up?" Denmark asked, sounding worried. He vaguely remembered what had happened and felt his face. There were plasters covering the wound.

Iceland pointed to something next to him. It was Finland, lying in bed completely knocked out.

"What happened?" He asked again, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Sweden stabbed him. In the back." Iceland looked close to tears.

Denmark looked at Finland, who was blissfully unaware of the madness going on. Sweden would never stab Finland, much less in the back. He got out of bed and gave Iceland a quick, reassuring hug.

"It'll be fine. You know he can't die." He mumbled. That was strange; he couldn't raise his voice at all. He tried to flash Iceland a smile, but found it virtually impossible. The end result looked awkward and out of place, so he stopped. He felt depressed. Really depressed.

"I'll try to talk to him." He said and went to open the door.

"Wait!"

"Hm?"

"You might end up like last time! He stabbed his wife for God's sake!" Iceland cried. He didn't want anything to happen to Denmark as well.

Denmark reached into his coat pocket. The box of cigarettes and his lighter were still there. He heaved a sigh of relief and lit one of them. He sucked in the smoke gratefully and puffed out a large cloud into the room, making Iceland cough.

"I'm still going." Denmark grunted, the cigarette still in his mouth. He unlocked the door and pulled down the handle. He was met by a wall of heat, pushing against him as if it was a solid object. What the hell happened here?

Denmark closed the door behind him and crept into the kitchen. Everything was smouldering as if it had recently been on fire. He saw Sweden throwing buckets of water at some patches that were still burning. Norway was sitting at the half-burned table holding an ice-pack to his face.

"What happened here?" Denmark asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Oh, nothing. Just Norway deciding to burn the whole place down." Sweden answered without turning around. "Welcome back, depressed one." He continued after throwing the water at a wooden chair that was on fire.

"What happened to you Norway?" Denmark asked, staring at Norway. His clothes were badly singed.

"This maniac sprayed my face with a flamethrower." He grumbled, waving his hand backwards vaguely where he thought Sweden was.

"Only after you tried to kill me, you fucking bastard!" Sweden cried emotionally and filled the bucket up again.

"Where did you get a flamethrower from?" Denmark asked, steadily getting more and more worried.

"I'd like to know that too actually. I can't remember us having one." Sweden remarked.

"Oh, some random guy gave it to me earlier. He looked strangely like me. It was weird." Norway replied vaguely.

"Didn't your mother tell you not to accept weapons from random strangers?" Sweden joked. Both he and Norway started laughing.

"This isn't the time for jokes. Why did he give you the flamethrower?" Denmark pressed on.

"He said something about burning…" Norway blinked. "Someone down."

Denmark sat down on the table and crushed his cigarette against it, leaving a small black mark. He fished a new one out of the box and lit it.

"Hey Den. Pass me the lighter." Norway was staring blankly into the wall.

"Sure." Denmark threw it over to him. Norway snatched it eagerly and walked off somewhere.

"What happened to him?" Denmark asked Sweden.

"I dunno." Sweden turned to look at him for the first time. "But he's gonna try something, I bet. And it's gonna be good." He gave Denmark a grin. "Brace yourself."

Norway emerged a few minutes later looking pretty much the same. He was still pressing the icepack to his face. Both Sweden and Denmark were waiting, looking expectantly at him. He was holding something behind his back.

"Say, Norway. What'cha got behind that back of yours?" Sweden chuckled.

"Nothing." Norway smiled at him with a dreamy look in his eyes. Denmark didn't like the look of this. He blew out a cloud of smoke in Sweden's direction, hoping for it to be some kind of warning,

Norway walked up to Sweden, who was leaning arrogantly against the wall, completely ignoring the smoke curling around his face. Suddenly Norway's arm jerked forwards, spraying Sweden with some form of liquid. It soaked his jacket and parts of his face. Sweden recognised the putrid smell of chemicals and realised what it was.

Too late.

He dived to the side, but Norway lit the lighter and lunged for him.

The flame touched his jacket, and suddenly Sweden seemed to explode, the flames travelling across his body in the fraction of a second. Norway quickly jumped back to avoid them. Sweden screamed as the heat threatened to consume him. The pain was too much. Sweden staggered over to the sink to relieve his pain, but was stopped by a laughing Norway.

"Oh no you don't!" He cried and kicked him back. Sweden fell over backwards, rolling on the floor in a futile attempt at putting out the flames, all while Norway stood over him laughing with an insanely happy look on his face. Denmark stared in horror at the scene. He let Sweden burn for a few more seconds, relishing the screams as revenge for both him and Finland. Then he stood up and snatched the bucket Sweden had been using earlier. He pushed Norway out of the way and started filling it up by the tap. But Norway tried to pull him backwards, away from the sink.

"What are you doing, idiot?" Denmark growled through gritted teeth as he tried to keep the bucket steady.

"No, let the bastard burn!"

"STOP IT! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Sweden screamed and continued to roll around, but the lighter fluid was too strong, even for a fireproof coat. The fire had already consumed most of the coat and was spreading up the sleeves and the neckline, starting to set his skin and hair on fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as if it was an organism on its own. Sweden managed to get himself to grab Norway's ankle, setting his trouser leg alight. The fire started to spread up his leg and reducing the blue material to a charred stump, but Norway didn't care. All he wanted was to stop Denmark from saving Sweden and let those beautiful flames keep on burning. Sweden had always had an especially ugly face.

After what seemed like an eternity the bucket was full. Denmark took the handle with both hands and lifted the bucket with much effort. Water sloshed out the sides as it swayed precariously. Sweden looked up at it with reverence in his eyes; his saving hope was right above him. He had managed to distract Norway for a few seconds, who was currently batting at the flames rapidly consuming his trouser leg with one hand and tugging at Denmark with the other. But just as Denmark was about to pour it, Norway noticed and sharply stopped his pulling. Denmark, who had been pulling with all his might in the opposite direction, fell over forwards at the sudden change. Sweden uttered a piercing scream upon realising what was happening. Norway just laughed even harder.

Time seemed to go in slow motion.

The water scattered in a wide arc forwards, catching the sunlight from the open window, making it glitter like a thousand small diamonds. Then it fell downwards sharply and wet the floorboards considerably. Every single drop missed its mark. Denmark landed on top of Sweden. From here the smell of burning flesh was even stronger. Denmark wrinkled his nose at it and jumped off as quickly as he could to avoid catching alight himself. Acting quickly he grabbed Sweden's hand and dragged him off to the door that led to the garden. Denmark could feel him fighting against him, kicking backwards, back to the sink, oh blessed sink.

"Stop fighting me. I'm trying to help here!" Denmark growled with a low voice. He was casting worried looks at Norway, who was walking slowly behind them with a mocking leer on his scarred face, his trouser leg still burning. He had abandoned the ice-pack long ago just to reveal the scar to Denmark. Denmark couldn't quite get over it; how Norway's pretty face had been violated in such a manner. He kind of resented Sweden for that. But nevertheless he couldn't watch him burn in agony while that thing that was Norway just laughed. He felt Sweden stop struggling, but he was still screaming hysterically and writhing a bit from the pain.

Denmark kicked the door open and with one last effort pulled the burning man into the snow. It had recently been snowing a light, powdery snowfall, and consequently Sweden fell through roughly 20 centimetres of snow before stopping. The sudden temperature change made him utter a final piercing scream, but soon it started to soothe him, and the pain numbed. Steam rose off him in a hissing sound as the flames were snuffed out. It was a cold morning, usually the -20 or so degrees Celsius would have been unbearable with the small amount of clothing the flames had spared, but right now it gave him instant relief. It was like being hugged by an ice pack. Sweden looked up at the melancholy light grey sky, thankfully letting the falling snowflakes cover his face. They were cool to the touch, but melted instantly from the heat that was still stubbornly coming off him. God that felt good. It was times like this that he was grateful for living in a cold country. He emitted a groan of pain as he slowly and painfully moved his head towards Denmark.

"I never thought I would say this. But thanks, you bastard." He uttered weakly, his voice sore from the screaming. And he thought he had a pretty good pain threshold. Apparently being burned alive is worse than having your stomach cut open (All Denmark's fault. True story.). He looked once more at the pale grey sky and let out a final sigh as he fainted.

Denmark scooped Sweden up and set off to the bedrooms so he could rest in relative peace. Norway was standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

"Move out of the way." Denmark's voice was lower than usual and sounded choked. He was more than a little disturbed at the scene he had just witnessed, and it quite clearly showed off in his voice.

"I won't stop you." Norway smiled apologetically and stepped aside. "Just one thing. Why did you save him? You saw what he did to you, not to mention Finland."

Denmark stepped cautiously inside. "I couldn't see him suffer like that. That was wholly unnecessary Norway. You crossed the boundary of acceptable there." He sighed and gave him a sad shake of the head. "Don't ever do that again." He sounded so disappointed, it made Norway feel like an ashamed child. Of course he would never admit it. Then Denmark passed him by, letting a flurry of snow enter the house with his billowing cape. The neat freak within Norway resurfaced desperately, but was quickly pushed down by the pyromaniac. 'Stay down. It's my time in the spotlight for once, asshole.' He told himself.

Sweden emitted a slight groan of pain in his sleep as Denmark placed him gently upon the extra bed Iceland had dragged into the large room. The small boy stared with wide eyed at the man on the bed burned beyond relief. His clothes were badly singed, he was wearing little more than some smouldering rags, and small burn scars littered his skin. Sweden had always been so strong in Iceland's eyes. Seeing him like this was heart-wrenching. He knew how deep Sweden's pride ran.

"It's okay. Everything will be fine." Denmark tried to say comfortingly, but only succeeded in showing the tender country that he himself wasn't all too sure.

"Wake up."

Finland opened his eyes. He was in his room. Denmark and Iceland were sitting back to back on their chairs, watching him and whatever was on the other side of the room. Sweden had made those chairs. His memories came back to him with a pang of distress. Oh yes, that. He had been stabbed by the one he had loved most. For some strange reason it didn't hurt at all. His back felt normal. Finland gritted his teeth and sat up. Iceland was looking at him with a sad expression.

"Iceland? What's happening?" He asked, feeling beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

Iceland showed no signs of having registered the fact that Finland had spoken.

"Iceland? Iceland? Speak to me Iceland!" Finland shook Iceland's shoulder. To his surprise his hand went right through him. Iceland was looking right where Finland's head had been. As if he couldn't even see him.

"It's no use. They can't see you." A bitter voice said.

Finland swung his head around to where the voice had come from, at the foot of his bed. It was like looking at his own reflection. It was Finland, but then again it wasn't. The stranger didn't exactly look like the happy go lucky type. In fact, he was scowling. His clothes were also similar to his, but they were dyed a blood red accentuated with a few black accessories here and there. His bright red eyes had bags under them that were so prominent it looked like they had been drawn on with eyeliner or something.

"Who are you?" Finland was sweating more than ever now. He could feel small streams run down the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?!" The stranger cried sarcastically, raising his hands in the air in an exasperated fashion. Without waiting for an answer to his question he continued speaking. "I'm you goddammit, didn't you see the freaking similarities?!"

"We-well…" Finland stammered timidly.

"God, I can't stand people like you! Always so fucking timid." His reflection spat.

Finland was shocked. He didn't really know what to say to something like that. "Hey-"

"Tch. Anyway. I didn't take all the effort of coming over here to slander you." The stranger cut him off. "Do you remember what he did to you?" He crept onto the bed and like a cat slowly moved towards his prey. His alluring eyes didn't let go of Finland for an instant.

"Who?" Finland gulped.

"Your husband of course."

"He's not my-" Finland blushed.

"Oh sure he isn't." The man chuckled. "Anyway. You know what he did to you."

"He was acting strangely. He'd never usually do that."

"What if I told you that maybe he would. You know how he's like. He tries to hide it, but he's got a turbulent nature. And that's just him. What about the rest of the bastards!" The man rolled his eyes and spat on the floor. "They all think you're annoying, a burden. Let me put this simply so that your small mind can comprehend this; you're an outcast. Nobody likes you."

"That's not true! We're like a family!" Finland's squeaky voice rose two octaves.

"Oh god, please don't tell me you haven't noticed. You weren't there in the Viking days, right?"

"Well, yea-"

"Exactly! The three of them go way back. You don't. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you're part of the Nordic clique, you know deep down that you'll never be accepted!"

Finland's jaw dropped in shock. "That's not true." He muttered to himself. He didn't sound too sure of himself. He did often feel like he was put down just a little. That's why he could always relate to Iceland the best.

"You pretend to be weak so you can be protected by the others, when really you could take all those bastards by yourself. That's why you always cling to Sweden like some kind of annoying girlfriend. But he's polite, so he's just shouldered it all this while. Poor bastard. I reckon this morning everything just exploded within him. I daresay you deserved it. You know, you should stand up for yourself. Don't let your family push you around. If you pretend to be nothing, then you are nothing!"

Finland backed against the wall as the strange man continued to advance. His head hit the wall, making him gulp, but the stranger only continued his rant, by now crouching right in front of him.

"Nothing, White, nothing! Don't convince yourself any differently. Because of this they think you're weak. You dug your own fucking grave, White! Can't you see that? If only you asserted yourself more, you would be treated better. That's still no excuse though. They've ignored you anyway. They should pay for all those years of being the one in the background! Being nice will get you nowhere. "

His counterpart's face was twisted into a murderous glare. He had grabbed Finland's shirt collar, and was now lifting him off the bed aggressively. Finland's eyes started misting up.

"It's not true. I'm not weak. I'll show them my power…" Finland's eyes transformed into the same bright red as his counterpart's, his anger instantly evaporating the tears. "I'LL SHOW THE BASTARDS!"

His counterpart got off the bed and leaned nonchalantly against Iceland's chair. The boy had been watching the whole thing without seeing, a blank expression on his face.

"I believe that my work here is done!" He chuckled.

Finland blinked and the stranger was gone.

He opened his eyes again. This time he was back into his original position, lying on his back in his bed. His back hurt like crazy. He sat up sharply and instantly remembered everything that had happened. He couldn't help but scowl.

Denmark was snoozing lightly in his chair, snoring heavily as he usually did when stressed.

"Oh my god, Denmark wake up!" Iceland cried suddenly.

Denmark snorted mid-snore and jerked his head up.

"Wh-wha-what's happening!" He said groggily.

"Finland's awake!"

"What?!" He was fully awake now. Denmark stood up sharply, abandoning his post to look at Finland.

"Finland, are you okay?" He asked, cautiously moving forwards. He still couldn't completely trust everyone after what he had witnessed.

"Do you think I'm okay after being fucking stabbed?!" Finland snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Denmark blinked, stunned. This was not the normal Finland.

"Uh-" He stammered, not too sure on what to say.

"Exactly! Jeez, some people just don't know how to think." Finland snarled. He hoisted himself out of bed, wincing as his back sent waves of pain washing over him. He staggered over to the other bed, where Sweden was lying limply. God he looked pathetic. Finland wasn't afraid to say so either.

"God, he looks pathetic. A truly pathetic end for a pathetic man." He spat, and ran a hand over Sweden's burned face. He stirred in his sleep, moving his head slightly to the side in an unconscious effort to get his hand off.

"Tch. See how he mocks me even now! Motherfucker." Finland left him alone to shuffle through his own wardrobe.

"Hey, Finland. Where's all this vitriol coming from?"

"Oh, poor little Denmark, trying to sound all clever by using big, complicated words. You may have that gullible little shit over there fooled, but we clever people know you're really just stupid as fuck." Finland retorted.

"You didn't answer my question." Denmark's hands curled into fists.

"And what does that have to do with you?" Finland dug out a black t-shirt with the word 'AMORPHIS' blazoned all over it. It was one of his favourite heavy metal bands from his country. He put it on, throwing the top of his light blue military uniform, now stained with blood, carelessly on the floor. He found a pair of black jeans and put them on too.

"I need to find some red dye. Do you know where I can find any?" He asked, sounding normal for a second. The bile in his voice was gone.

Denmark sighed thankfully. "There should be some in the bathroom." He muttered, still unable to raise his voice no matter how hard he tried.

"Thanks, loser." Finland picked up his military uniform and made for the door.

" are you going to do with that?" Denmark asked earnestly.

Finland stopped abruptly. "So that's how it is? You don't trust me, do you? Why can't you bastards let me do what I want in peace, without your smug patronizing mugs over my shoulder all the time huh?!" He shouted. The other two suddenly noticed his bright scarlet eyes and realised what had happened.

"Motherfuckers." Finland flipped his middle finger at them as he went out, slamming the door behind him.