Romano and Italy looked at each other in panic. Spain's eyes were open, yet clearly he was seeing hallucinations. They bore a glazed- no, a crazed look- that said he was going to avenge his brothers' "deaths" no matter how sick he was. Romano grimaced at the vomit on the floor and knew they needed a plan.

"Spain, it's-a me," Italy told him gently, his lower lip trembling as he tried to hold the bigger nation down. "I'm not a bull. You have a really high fever so you're just-a seein' things. It's Feli," he added, using his human name to really get through to him. He touched the Spaniard's forehead again; it was a lot hotter than before.

"Fratello, we-a need some Ibuprofen!" he shouted to Romano, feeling the panicked need to raise his voice despite his older brother being right there.

Romano would never admit this out loud, but he was quite relieved that Italy was here to help. There were plenty of areas in which the younger Vargas seemed to do nothing but cause trouble, but when someone was sick and in need of a caretaker, Italy's help was quite appreciated. Somehow the young nation seemed to suddenly gain a much clearer head and capable nature in times like this.

"Si! Ibruprofen!" Too frantic to care or notice that Italy had actually been authoritative, Roma ran downstairs to get the medicine, leaving his younger brother to take care of Spain.

Spain had settled down for a moment but suddenly gripped his hand with frightening intensity. "Cabin boy…" He coughed. "Tell the men to bury my treasure under that hut in the Bahamas. You know which one…"

Oh great! Now he thought he was back in his pirate days! Italy blinked back some tears and tried to be tough. "Spain, I-a told you, it's Italy!" He spoke to him the way Grandpa Rome used to speak when any one of them was sick or upset as a child, running his fingers through Spain's dark curls as he did so. "You're sick, so Roma and I are-a here to take care of you." He didn't bother to ask if Spain remembered the happenings of earlier that day; obviously he didn't. Yes, Italy could be calm and practical in certain situations.

"Italy…?" Spain almost sounded drunk.

"Si, I'm here, big brother." Italy tried to put Spain in bed but wasn't strong enough. "Help me here, okay?" he said tenderly. Spain was coherent enough now to comply, and let Italy put him to bed and lay a cool cloth on his forehead, dabbing at the beads of sweat that had collected on his hairline.

Romano came back in with the Ibruprofen and some cough syrup and was relieved to find Spain in bed. "I think-a he's sleeping now," he noted, and dipped the spoon in the medicine.

"Big brother Spain? Romano's got-a your medicine so you'll have to open up, all right?" Italy cooed. Spain was just awake enough to meekly comply, and the brothers managed to get his medicine down him. The sick nation was starting to breathe a little easier and so were Italy and Romano- until the next words from Spain's mouth.

"Grazie, men, all the others would commit mutiny but you stayed to help your dying captain."

To be continued…