America finally arrived in the country a while later, taking his jet plane there to make the trip quicker. He had forgot how cold it was there and cursed at himself for not dressing up in warmer clothes. Whatever, he thought. It's not like I'm staying here long.

America marched up to the house and shot the lock, kicking the door open as he held his gun in front of him with both hands, finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any moment. He eyed the room suspiously, wondering if the mansion was empty.

"Hello, Amerika!" said a cheerful voice from behind.

America quickly turned around and pointed his gun at Russia, who smiled innocently at him. Quickly looking him up and down, his hands folded in front of him, his coat pocketless, he thought Russia might be unnarmed. Might.

"Where is he?!" he yelled. "Where the hell is Canada?!"

"Right here, Alfred."

America's eyes widened. That voice that sounded as though it were in so much pain earlier, now sounded unharmed, calm, humored, even. His grip on the gun loosened slightly as confusion swept over him, only to be replaced with horrible realization. "Oh God..."

Canada smiled. "Thanks for coming here to save me," he said, and then, with such an extreme force, hit America in the back of his head with his metal hockey stick, rendering the American unconcious. Canada chuckled and kneeled down, petting his brother's head, where a puddle of blood was starting to form. "Silly brother. Tricks are for kids."

America opened his eyes a few hours later. His head hurt like hell and his mouth felt like sandpaper. It took him a moment to remember the previous event. Then, it hit him like a freight train. Canada, his sweet, innocent little brother, had betrayed him. To Russia. His first instinct was to get up and grab for his gun, but he realized that it was useless. He was chained to a wall. The fuck, Russia? he thought. This some sort of mideveal dungeon or something? How original...

"Nnn...A-Alfred...?"

America's eyes shot up at the sound of the voice. "Oh God, no," he said quietly. He saw on the wall on the far opposite of him, was England, beaten and bloodied. "A-Arthur?! Oh my God, what the hell did they do to you?!"

England looked up weakly at America. "That doesn't matter...Are you all right?" he asked.

"Physically, yeah. But, God, you look horrible. How hurt are you? Does it feel as bad as it looks? Arthur, we'll get out of here, I promise."

"Net, I dno't think so," Russia said in the doorway, followed in by Canada, looking rather pleased with himself.

America glared at his brother. "Why, Matthew?" he asked. "How could you do something like this...?"

Canada got on his knees so he would be at level with America. "You wanna know why?" he asked. "Kay, here's why. You're a cocky bastard who tries to take credit for everything. You make me look bad. People either don't see me or beat the crap out of me because they think I'm you." He got our a knife and stabbed America's shoulder, making him scream out in pain. "Do you know how much that hurts? No, you don't, because that's not something that heroes do, now, is it? I'm tired of being ignored by everyone and being alone because of you."

"Matthew..." America said through gritted teeth as the knife dug deeper into his skin. "I'm sorry. You're my brother, and I care about you more than anything and anyone else. I'd risk my life for you. Hell, I came over here to do just that! I'm sorry I caused you any pain, I didn't mean to. I really do care-"

"Je n'y crois pas à ces conneries!" Canada yelled as he took the knife out and stabbed him in the other shoulder, causing him to scream again and struggle aganist the restraints. "It's no use to apologize now.You're going to pay right here, right now." He smirked and licked the blood off the knife. "Ivan," he said, calling him by his real name just to make America more furious. "You can deal with him now. I'm going to the Brit."

"No!" America yelled, struggling more. "You can't hurt him!"

Russia kicked him roughly in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He smiled and stroked America's hair. "Don't worry, you'll get your fair share of pain later. It's just Britain's turn now."

Looking up wearily, England frowned as Canada approached. "America," he said softly. "Please don't watch. You don't need to see."

"No, I think he does," Russia said, gripping America's skull tightly, forcing him to look up.

Canada chuckled and lifted England's chin up softly. "Do you remember me, England?" he asked. "Remember stealing me away from big brother Francis and then not even paying attention to me? America was always your favorite, wasn't he? You never even cared for me as much as you did him." He smirked and got out a syringe with an extremely long needle, making England's eyes widen in fear.

Still trying to free himself from Russia's grip and the restraints in general, America yelled out, "Let him go Matt, I'm the one you wa-mmph!" Russia's hand that wasn't gripping America's skull covered his mouth. Canada payed no attention to them. His attention was completely fixed on the man in front of him.

With the syringe in one hand, Canada rolled up England's sleeve, revealing several scars and bruises from earlier to America's dismay. England gritted his teeth and muttered a few words under his breath that were uncomprehensible to everyone in the room- a spell.

Canada smiled and laughed. "Oh, England, you still believe in that black magic crap, don't you?" he asked with a cute, innocent giggle. "We thought you might. Even though we don't believe in that and think you're just crazy with all your hallutionations of "faeries" and whatnot, we'd thought we'd be safe and put up these neat little charms all over the place that just so happens to ward off magic! Really smart on our part, eh?"

England's eyes showed a trace of suprise, quickly replaced by anger. "This is wrong, Matthew, and you know it," he said bitterly. "You're better than this."

Canada frowned and harshly slapped England, leaving a stinging feeling on his face. "How would you know that, Kirkland? You never payed any attention to me, so obviously you wouldn't have gotten to know if I was better than this or not, would you?" He smirked and plunged the syringe into England's arm, making him bite the inside of his mouth to resist screaming out.

America couldn't stand this, seeing England in pain like this. He wanted to help, but it was impossible to move. He felt utterly useless at this point. Tears started to well up in his eyes and he tried to blink them away, not wanting to give Russia or Canada the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

Russia noticed and smiled. "Poor Ameri-kun," he said, softly stroking his hair, almost comfortingly, had it been someone else. "In case you were wondering, the thing Canada just injected into England increases pain by a lot. We're going to give you some as well when we think you've seen enough of your lover getting tortured, da?" He chuckled and whispered in America's ear, "The fun has just begun, Amerika."