disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! just the storyline

America laid in bed with Canada and Sealand next to him, he couldn't push the terrible memory out of his head, and his bandaged arm shot sparks of pain just thinking about it. He closed his eyes as a few more tears pushed themselves out of the sky blue orbs, they slid down his cheeks and hit the pillow, silently never to be heard. The scene ran itself through his skull again

He had been walking with England, the killer had been sighted and everyone had panicked, America had gone instantly to find his ex-brother/father figure. He didn't want England to get hurt, so he had to be with him, to make sure he would be alright.

They walked down the cream coloured hallways, their footsteps muffled against the blue carpet; America was nervous what if he met the killer? What would he do? They had pasted a corner and neither America nor England noticed the ink black figure pressed against the wall.

"Come on you git, we have to find Sealand," England and called over his shoulder, eyes glittering with irritation, America laughed putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry! We'll find the kid, he'll be ok!" America said rather boisterously, England's eyes softened slightly, not enough for the American to notice at the time. England turned away and continued on his determined march, America trailing after him, when the knives sailed through the air and sank deeply into England's back.

Blood burst from England's mouth as he gave a garbled choked noise, he fell onto the ground, America was beside him before he even knew what happened.

"ENGLAND!" he screamed, six more knives dug into his left arm, America screeched as the knives tore into his skin and scratched bone, ignoring the pain, the red hot agony, he pulled England towards him. Pulled him onto his lap so he could hold his once father/brother, England looked up at him, he smiled weakly as America brushed the hair out of his face.

"England!" he called, England griped his arm, his wounded one but America bit back the yelp.

"Watch… Sealand for… me… and your brother…" the dying nation rasped, his eyes dripping with tears, "I'm sorry… that I wasn't… a good brother… for you… I… love you… I hope you know…you'll always be..." the British nations eyes drooped, "my little… brother…" his eyes slid shut, and his body gave a last shuddering breath, and went limp.

"No! No, England don't leave me! ENGLAND!" he screamed tears pouring and dripping onto the lifeless body of his brother/father/he-doesn't-even-know-anymore, soon the pleas became wordless wails as he sat on the once blue carpet hugging England close.

Hands came and pulled America from England at first America fought them, struggling, screaming, kicking to get back to England but soon he just gave up, collapsing into the nearest body (turned out to be Prussia) and crying, he loved England, he always had, ever since England and France had come and tried to get him to become their little brother, he had even through the revolution.

He had loved him despite the arguing, and name-calling and even the odd fist fight; he had always loved England, his big brother, who had raised him. And now… he was gone forever. No more nasty tea, no more being called an idiot by a thick British accent, no more popping up and annoying the brit, no more… just… an empty chair at the conference table where he used to sit.

America put his good arm over his eyes and silently sobbed, he didn't stop when he felt small arms wrap around his stomach, or when he felt a wet warmness against his stomach and shuddering as the micro-nation sobbed against him, they sobbed together in the darkness mourning the loss of the nation that had raised them.

-Germany's, Prussia's, Japan's, and Romano's room-

Romano lay on the couch, he was exhausted but his mind was wide awake and swirling with worry for his fratello, Italy wasn't responding to texts or calls it was as if he had- don't even finish that thought. His fratello was fine he wasn't dead in some alley or laying in their kitchen sprawled on the floor because he had been making pasta when- dios mio! Stop it Romano! He rolled over a few times, his face scrunching and un-scrunching, he just couldn't get comfortable god damn it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! He mentally screamed as he rolled over rapidly, left right left right left right left right.

"STOP ROLLING AROUND SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP VERDAMMIT!" a rather angry Prussian bellowed, there was some grumbling as the two brothers quietly argued, Romano meanwhile, stopped rolling around. And eventually everything was quiet.

Romano rolled over again.

"THAT'S IT!" there was some rustling of blankets and suddenly Romano was being squished by 100-ish pounds of angry Prussian, "Try rolling around now!"

"HEY! GET OFF ME YOU BASTARD!" Romano squirmed, while Prussia lay on him as if a blanket, eventually he pushed the albino off of him, "WHAT THE HELL!"

"You were tempting fate; it had to happen, kesesesese!" the childish man laughed from the floor, rubbing his head where it had hit the table, "geez you need to loosen up." Romano glared, grabbed his blankets, pulled them up to his neck and turned over extremely huffily, away from the Prussian. Prussia rolled his eyes, and meandered back the bed he was sharing with west, and flopped down burrowing under the covered.

Earning another angry grumble for his efforts, Prussia snuggled deeper into the blankets and drifted off to sleep. Romano, eventually, fell into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares; if you listened extremely closely you could hear his faint lonely whimpers.

Had Not-Italy been then he would have been laughing hysterically but he wasn't he was in the conference room, just sitting there, musing on what to do next. He sat on the table, feet dangling in front of him, facing the door. The sun had long since gone down and he was shrouded in dark, his eyes glowed though so he had used them to see his notes. He was surrounded by them; most of them were drawings of the dead nations. Their faces before he killed them, after they were dead.

He giggled and collected his papers, making sure not to leave a single one, and hopped out the window. He landed gracefully and sauntered down the street to his hotel room. He couldn't wait to go to bed, he was tired, and killing five nations in a day was a lot of work. He adjusted his ink black fedora he was wearing (to conceal his identity although he still wore the military uniform under the trench coat) and the collar he had turned up.

He had hoped to not have to wear these so often, it wasn't as much fun when the victim's eyes weren't swirling with confusion. When he couldn't feel the knives tear through skin, scratch bone and sever muscle. He walked down the street, he noticed the people staring at him as he walked, and he grinned at the wide berth they gave him.

He pushed open the door, and bounced up the stairs, he passed floors two, three, four and stopped at five. He walked down the hallway, passing the dark oak-wood doors that were sprinkled across the rich green walls. His feet padded across the brown and green carpet, towards his room, when he reached the door he slid his key card down and the lock light turned green and the door knob clicked.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room, closing the door and leaving the hallway empty once more. Not-Italy dumped his papers on the desk, dropped his hat with them too and draped his coat over the back of the chair. The articles of clothing returning to their usual brown/red color as soon as he let go of them, he flopped on the bed, and fell into a deep sleep, filled with screams… but none were his own.

authors note:

ok so it was mostly just a filler chapter, I promise more advancement later! also I hope you enjoyed the more descriptive scene of England's death, a reader had told me that it seemed a little quick and their wasn't much description. so I tried to put more of it! you know maybe at a later date, I'll rewrite the story. meh I dunno possibly... reviews are welcome! lets see random fact.

1) wolves have large paws so while a caribou's hooves go deep into the snow a wolf runs on top of it

2) there are two ego's! everyone always thinks that an ego tells you that you are the best all the time and yea that's true BUT some people's ego's do the reverse! and tell them that their terrible people! these are called reverse ego's

3) in a fight a grizzly and a tiger would be an even match so they usually avoid each other in the wild

ok well hope you enjoyed!

-Ches

P.S hope you enjoy having it a day early! as thus the next chapter will be out next Saturday not this one, as much as I would like to I will not power write a chapter (especially not one as important as the next one) because then it turns out bad. so i'll work on it and maybe post it tomorrow if I do finish it then. but if not then you just gotta wait