"Bastard!" Romano snapped, banging his fist into the hood of the car, "Where are we going!?"

"I told you, Roma. England's house," Spain answered wearily. He was exhausted from having his Prussian friend hot on his tail.

"What makes you think I'd want to see that tea-loving prick!?"

Just then, Spain gave Romano a glare so dark that it made him shut his mouth completely. The Italian had never seen a look like that on the Spaniard before, and it frightened him.

"... B... Boss...?" He asked.

"If what you say is true," Spain said, his tone low and foreboding, "England may have been on to something earlier."

"Earlier? You talked to him?"

"Before you showed up at Germany's house, yeah. England was spouting off something about the stars being in position or whatever and said that soon, we nations would start turning against each other."

Romano rolled his eyes. "It's England, Boss. It's probably just some witchy bullshit. It's definitely not a reason to scare the shit out of me and leave your friend behind like that. He probably thinks you kidnapped me!"

"Or he's thinking about how he's going to kidnap you and kill you! Or worse!" Spain pointed out, "If England's right, we can't trust anyone!"

"If YOU'RE right, we can't trust England either!" Romano snapped back.

The car came to a screeching halt. The Spaniard nation stared at the empty road ahead of them, eyes widened with realization.

Concerned, Romano waved a hand in front of Spain's face. "Boss? Hello? What's wrong with you?"

"Mios Dio, we can't trust England! You're right!" Spain exclaimed.

The eldest Italian brother smacked his head into the dashboard and groaned.

"Que?" Asked the tomato-loving airhead.

"JUST TAKE US HOME, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!" Romano screamed, his voice reverberating throughout the car.

Spain had never made a u-turn so fast in his entire life.

Meanwhile, back to Prussia...

Prussia couldn't find anything at Spain's house that could serve as a clue. The only thing he saw was that the knives in the kitchen were knocked over and that several vases, picture frames, and glasses had been shattered. Obviously, his "friend" had thrown a bitch fit earlier.

He drove to Italy's house, his stomach churning the entire way. Prussia had previously had a crush on the younger Italian brother, so the thought of him being abusive made him sick. He felt his pocket for his pocket knife, feeling the bump protruding from his jeans. He didn't want to hurt Italy, but he would do whatever it took to protect Romano, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

Too soon, the Prussian neared his destination. He decided that it would be best to park in an alley and walk the rest of the way. He didn't want Italy to hear him coming if he was a threat.

He approached the house, taking care to step lightly and carefully. He noticed that the lights in the house were on. Italy was home.

With a nervous gulp, Prussia crouched and snuck underneath the window. He lifted himself up just enough to peer inside. What he saw was the kitchen. Nothing looked out of place. A pot of water was boiling on the stove, pasta sitting on the counter beside it. Typical.

Prussia pulled away from the window and stood the rest of the way up. Neither Italian nor the Spaniard were anywhere to be seen inside. He decided to sneak around into the back to see if they were hiding in one of the bedrooms.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and everything faded to black.