Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, just the ideas for stories.


The sound of a car horn blasts through the void on the winter night. It echoes through the area, the creator of the unstoppable noise unable to move. Blinkers on the car rhythmically turn on and off. Snowflakes glisten as they slowly fall around the scene.

A groan slips through bloodied lips. Messes of brown hair dirtied red shake as the person lifts their head from the steering wheel, ceasing the constant shrill of the car horn. His head hurt. He didn't remember what happened. Opening his green irises to the world once more, he scoped out his surroundings.

It was dark out. Winter flakes fell through the lit beams of the headlights, and the cold blew onto the Spaniard's skin. He shivered.

Sudden shouts that are muffled attract Antonio's attention to a small device. His eyes land on his cell phone. It must have slipped out of my hand when... His head jerked back up, increasing the pain he already hand in his head. There was another car in front of him, bashed up just like he assumed his was. That's right. He mused. I lost control of the car and...

His head pounded as he remembered what happened. He tried to move his legs so he could exit his vehicle, but they didn't budge. His green eyes glanced down at them to see his clothes soaked in blood. Antonio's face scrunched up in confusion; he didn't have that many severe injuries. Why was there so much blood? He looked at himself further and his complexion grew pale.

There was a large, sharp edged disc that cut his torso from his lower region. How could he still be awake? This amount of blood loss should have killed him instantly. But where did the disc come from? Another spasm of pain coursed through his head as he tried to remember. That's right. Gilbert asked me to keep his...stuff in the car for him until I saw him again. This "stuff" just so happened to be record like discs. Weapons. Antonio's head hurt more.

"...tonio!...Ca...u...ear...me?" The voice on the other end of the phone caught the Spaniard's ears. His dear Romano. A hollow chuckle escaped his chest. Lo siento Romano. It looks like I won't make it for our anniversary. He continued to listen to the small words he could pick up from the small device. It's my fault that this happened to me. His usual smile, filled with pain, twitched onto his face.

He slowly reached for his cell and placed it by his ear. The worry he heard in his little Italian's voice made his dying heart flutter. "Romanito."

"Bastard! What happened?! I heard tires screeching! What the fuck is going on over there?! Answer me you idiot!" His lover spat more questions. Antonio just chuckled which caused him to cough up blood; an dark color of red stained his hands. "Antonio?" Romano heard the hideous sound coming from the Spaniard. "Antonio, you bastard. Tell me that you're fucking fine."

"I'm fine." His green eyes quivered as he lied. "I'm muy beuno, mi corazon." Romano cussed the other out for calling him such a stupid thing. Antonio just smiled. "Hold on to me, amor." The Italian shut his lips tight. He knew what the Spaniard was going to say next, and he didn't want to hear it, but he didn't move the phone from his ear. "You know I can't stay long."

"That's not true!" Romano's voice hitched as it cracked. He was going to cry, but men don't cry; he doesn't ever cry. "You're fine! You said so yourself, idiota!"

"I'm sorry." Antonio's eyes closed. "I know I said that, but it's not true." Romano hiccuped. Ah, mi tomate is crying. "I... All I wanted to say was... I love you, and I'm not afraid."

"You're not afraid? Afraid of what, bastardo?" The Italian's voice quaked. He couldn't keep this visage up any longer. The tears started to pour down his face, un-welcomed to the world. "Y-you ass-hole! D-don't do this t-to me! Not today..."

"Lo siento, Romano." Antonio felt his body, what was connected to his brain, drain out of the blood he need to be alive. His heart was slowing to a death rate. His time in this world was ending. He would be reborn, but not as the same Spain. This Spain would linger around. I don't think there will be another Spain if I stay as an Earth bound ghost.

His thoughts started to mush together. "Romano." His muscles were slackening of the strength he need to hold the phone. "Te amo." He forced himself to shed a few tears. "Te amo mucho."

"Idiota!" Romano's voice echoed through the phone. "Bastardo!" Antonio lost all consciousness as he held his last breath; his phone slipped through his fingers and landed on the floor. His brown matted hair sticky with blood rested against the head of the seat. He was gone. "Don't do this to me! Not on our anniversary! You ass-hole! Cazzo idiota!" He waited for a reply, but none came. "Ti amo, Antonio..."

Safe inside the dormant, dead, cold body of the personification of Spain are all his thoughts of of Romano. A sweet raptured light shined down on this body as the soul flew out of the skin. It ends here; tonight. Antonio's soul landed on the ground. His transparent green eyes opened. But it starts here as well.

A year later on a winters day just like the one Antonio died on, Romano stood next to a grave with no name inscription. It was a blank grave with no one under ground to be represented; he knew this, but still came to visit it. He believed that Antonio could have been buried there, and since there were no name on it, it could not be claimed by anyone. Not yet.

The Spaniard leaned on a tree close to his love. He always lead Romano to this grave because it was supposed to be his; no one had the urge to bury him though. His body was erased from the world, his soul was the only thing left to disappear. He stood from the tree and walked over to Romano.

"Hola, Romano." The Italian didn't respond. He sighed. Of course he wouldn't. I'm dead, and the dead can't talk with the living. He embraced the other. "Can you hear me?" He nuzzled his head against the other's cheek. "Can you feel me?"

Nothing come from the Italian that stood in his arms. He sighed, defeated. He has been trying to contact his amor for the past year; nothing worked. Not even the single movement of a book onto the desk, or the mysterious strum of his guitar. Romano ignored it all.

"I'll miss the winter." He breathed. "A world of fragile things." Antonio paused before he let the other go. "Look for me in the white forest, hiding in a hollow tree." His apparition started to slowly disappear. The wind picked up, causing Romano to tense his body for warmth. The Italian turned around and looked straight through Antonio without realizing that he was Spaniard smiled. "Come and find me."

"Antonio." Romano's honey yellow, green tinged amber eyes squinted in the cold gust. He felt something tug him, his heart, but he didn't know what. Antonio came to mind, but that would be impossible. He was gone. Wasn't he?

"I know you hear me." Antonio's voice echoed as he watched his Lovino tear up again. He hated that just the thought of him hurt Romano, but it meant something. "I can taste it in your tears." He tried to wipe away some of the tears that fell, but they just fell through his invisible hand.

Romano's eyes whipped open as he sat up in bed. His body was sweating from the too-real-to-be-reality dream. His fist clenched the sheets that covered his nude body. Biting his lip, he shook his head to get that nonsense out of his head. Antonio plagued his mind ever since he died and never came back to life. He didn't know how it could be possible for Spain to die like this and never return. He must be alive for his country to still be on the map. Or someone else should have taken up his spot.

No. Romano didn't want to think about anyone taking his bastards place in the world. It was Antonio's and Antonio's only. He was a great damn representative for the former country of love and passion. Hell, Spain is still the country of love and passion to this Italian. He'll never think different.

Closing his eyes, he fell back against his bed. Sleep took him away easily, placing him in a beautiful land where the idiot Spaniard waited for him. He stubbornly smiled as he ran up to the bastard and headbutted him in the stomach. Antonio cringed but laughed the pain off. Romano smiled a sweet, rare smile he would never show to others, and the two embraced each other.

Romano started praying as he held onto Antonio. He prayed that his dreams would leave him where he was. He didn't want to leave. A life without Antonio isn't the same; it never would be the same. He wasn't the only one who thought that either. Every Antonio knew, the countries, missed him. Belgium, France, Gilbert, Hungary, Italy. Even England and Netherlands; these two just didn't know what to think without the goofy grinning fool around.

But nothing could last forever. He still woke up. He knew the truth. Antonio isn't there.

"Say goodnight/ Don't be afraid/ Calling me, Calling me/-" The Spaniard sang to the disturbed Italian that lay awake under him. He knew the lyrics didn't help much, but he wanted to do something for the other. "Fusososososo~." Even his cheer-up trick didn't work.

"I guess holding my last breath had done it's job." He stood up in the air. His appearance started to dissolve in the oxygen.

Romano's eyes widened then as he looked above him. He could see him now. He saw Antonio, but he was disappearing. "No!" He shouted. Antonio was shocked to hear something from his lover and looked down. They stared at each other. "Don't leave me again! Bastard!" The Spaniard smiled.

"But it's too late to turn back now, Lovi~." He cooed sympathetically. "My time is up. I am no longer needed in this form anymore."

"You idiot!" Tears threatened to pour down his face again.

"Lo siento, Romano." His vision started to go. Everything was fading to black. "I'm done."

"No!" Romano grabbed for Antonio but there was only air. He was gone. Again. "No!" He clenched his hands into fists as he pounded on his mattress. His body shook as he cried. "Not again... Please. You bastard..." The hiccups came fast as he wailed. The night ends in mourning.

Romano woke up with red, bleary eyes. A pounding rattle his door gently. He wasn't in the mood to see anyone right now, and he was going to announce that thought to the intruder. He approached the door and whipped it open, mouth open and ready with insults. Words were stuck in his throat as he looked at the person before him. A shy smile fought its way onto his face.

Morning brings stubborn happiness.


Note: Sucky chapter is sucky. =3= I like it, yet I don't. This one is a spin off of the other one, Taking Over Me: Spamano, but with a sadder, cliffhangery ending. =3=

I don't know anymore! I'm into the angst and all, but these songs are sort of hard to make stories with! For me at least. If you don't like this story, I'm sorry, but I thank you for reading.

Ciao: I hope that some of you enjoyed this update! Thanks for reading, loves! R&R.