Here it is, the last chapter. I can't believe I actually finished something wow. I gotta say, this was a great story to write, as strange as that sounds. Who knows, I might pick this idea up again someday.

I've found my weakness, and it is psychopathic Spain. God bless.

Well, I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

North Italy Veneziano was usually a very happy nation. Why wouldn't he be? He had the greatest friends, the best music, and the most delicious food! Sure, his southern half was a bit more grumpy, but Veneziano knew Romano wasn't incapable of being content. He had his own ways of being happy, and Veneziano respected that. Yes, everything seemed perfectly fine for the excitable nation.

Until now.

His poor brother, found on his doorstep in a horrifying condition. The skin on his arms was raw, bruises decorated every part of his body, his neck was nearly crushed to a pulp, and one of his fingernails seemed to have been ripped off. This was no accident, Veneziano wasn't stupid enough to think that. Someone intentionally hurt Romano. Suddenly all the happiness inside him vanished, misery taking its place.

He had fixed his older brother up the best he could, Japan and Germany assisting him throughout. Strangely, Romano didn't react negatively when Germany touched his bruised skin. He didn't react at all, actually. He kept looking up at the ceiling blankly, not even acknowledging Veneziano when he tried to engage him in a conversation. His brother had been broken, and the younger half didn't know if he could fix him. He had tried finding out what had happened when the elder had left big brother Spain's house, but his whole body would tremble and his eyes would roll up whenever the subject was brought up. It was scary, and made Veneziano cry.

Veneziano was quick to inform every nation who'd listen about the vicious attack, and all had reacted predictably, with gasps and groans of disgust. America had even offered to supply a few of his detectives, which blossomed an argument between him and England about who had the best crime system. A few other nations offered their help as well, and the northern half of Italy was delighted. Truly, he had the best kind of friends!

One nation that seemed particularly disturbed by the news was Spain. Veneziano expected this, considering big brother Spain was closest to Romano, but he thought it was strange how Spain was quick to hang up, and hadn't called back since. When he told Germany about this, the larger nation concluded that Spain was devastated most of all, and didn't want to be bothered. Soon, he'd come around. Though Veneziano still thought the behavior of the Spaniard was suspicious, he quickly accepted the theory.

Veneziano comforted Romano with this, promising that Spain would come over soon, and he'd feel better after that. He listed all that they would do together, the dreamy expression on his face continuously present. Although neither bothered to tell Veneziano, both Japan and Germany noticed how Romano would flinch every time Spain's name was said. They gave each other a knowing look, and bowed their heads simultaneously.

They informed everyone else but Veneziano about this theory. By the end of the day, each nation of the world was figuring out how to go about this new problem.

Spain knew he would feel guilty after all that had happened between him and Romano, but he didn't think it would feel so...forced. Truthfully, he wouldn't have given it a second thought, but a voice in his head was urging him that he had to so...he obeyed. He mourned his favorite little nation, trying to think up ways to properly apologize to him.

Then again, shouldn't Romano be the one apologizing? He was the one who provoked Spain, this all would've never happened if he would have just behaved like a good little boy. Also, why was he being so dramatic? Veneziano said he wouldn't talk or even look at him. He probably just wanted the attention, the brat. It took most of Spain's strength to calm down, because nothing would be better if he got angry again.

Shortly after Veneziano informed him, other nations began to reach out. Even England, his least favorite of the countries, asked how he was doing. It was suspicious, and paranoia came to him quickly. They knew, they all knew what he did. Romano probably told them. Oh, how he would regret it. He'd wish that countries could die after Spain was done with him.

Begrudgingly, Spain accepted an offer from France and Prussia to hang out. They were his best friends, after all, he couldn't outright deny them. Besides, surely both were far too goofy to bring up such a serious topic. They'd just come over and get drunk and start gossiping. Like always, right?

Wrong.

The two arrived looking eerily solemn, and both turned down Spain's offer of beer and wine. That really ticked the Spanish nation off. Of course, they weren't here because they were friends. They were here because they were nations (well, France was anyway).

"...I'm sure you heard about what happened with Romano," began France, once they were in the dining room around the huge table. Spain had given both some paella, but they weren't eating it.

He feigned sadness, eyes averted and wet with tears. "Sí. I just...don't understand who would do such a thing to Romano. I know he can be a little bratty, but he means well!"

Prussia nodded, twirling his fork mindlessly. "I don't think I've ever seen a nation be brutally beaten like this. I mean...he was scrubbed raw, beaten, humiliated, violated, denailed, and almost had his neck crushed. Not awesome."

France gave him a dirty look, before smiling at Spain sympathetically. "Veneziano says he isn't in any condition to talk to us, so...maybe you could help out? You were the last one to see little Romano, did he seem off to you? Maybe he mentioned meeting someone after his visit?"

Relaxing slightly, Spain shook his head, trying to look thoughtful. "Hmm...I don't think so. It was like any normal visit. We ate, we slept, and then Romano left. I'm sorry, I don't think I'm much help."

He waited for a reaction, but only received stares. It was obvious they didn't believe him. France took a hesitant bite of the paella, before finally responding, "We're just a little worried, ami. Because...well...you're the only one who has a history of hurting Romano..."

Spain twitched a bit, his hands balling into fists. He only told three people about beating Romano when he was little, and that was Belgium, France, and Prussia. All were weary of the information, but agreed to keep it a secret. "That was only once. I promised I wouldn't do it again. You didn't tell the others, did you?"

Prussia shook his head slowly. "Nein. But we all promise things we don't mean. West promised he wouldn't invade Czechoslovakia, and look what happened then. We're just...worried, Spain. We wouldn't be mad if you did do it, but..."

"But you would think less of me," finished Spain bluntly. He was angry. Actually, he was downright furious. Who were they to accuse him? Two nations that used to be great, but succumbed into nothingness. Only one was still a nation, in fact. They had no evidence. None. "I cannot believe my friends would do this to me. How do you think I feel? My sweet, little Romano has been hurt! And you have the nerve to accuse me of doing it?"

The two looked at each other, before France cleared his throat and said, "But you cannot deny what we have. You have hurt him before and...Romano flinches at the mention of your name. Please, just tell us the truth."

Spain looked at them both, and then genuine guilt pierced him. What was he doing? He couldn't lie to his dear friends. He looked down, tears sliding down his cheeks slowly. "I didn't...mean to. My lovely, cute Romano...he was just so mean. So...so, I..." He let out a shaky, hysterical laugh. "I fixed him. I made him the perfect henchmen. He's so good now, isn't he? So quiet...so obedient...I only hurt him because I love him. You understand love, don't you, France?" He looked at the put off nation, grinning so wide that it ached. "He is everything to me. I don't want him to be rude, or some other nation will destroy his country because of it. I did him a favor." The small bit of guilt that he felt was completely gone.

He looked at both of him, both of his friends. His kind, understanding friends. Both looked so pale and disgusted, it seemed almost unreal. France was the first to stand up. "That is not the kind of love I teach, Spain."

Spain nodded, still smiling. "We all have different interpretations of the word. This is mine. I love him, so much. I can't even help myself. I need him. All of him."

Prussia looked absolutely sickened, and he pushed his paella away, so forcefully that it fell off the table and hit the floor with a loud crash. He didn't apologize, he just got up and stumbled out the door. France remained, eyes locked on Spain.

"You need help. You aren't stable anymore, you're going to eventually drive Romano into insanity with you!" he shouted, holding out his hand. Spain slapped it away, no longer smiling. It was over, all of it. He didn't need these nations, these so-called friends. All he needed was himself, and Romano. That's all.

"I think you should leave, amigo. Don't bother coming back. I assure you, Romano will be fine," Spain said calmly, pointing to the door. France opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and left. Then, it was silence. There was no sound apart from Spain's own heavy breathing. He felt happy, frustrated, and upset all at once.

It was time to visit his little tomato.

When there was a knock at the door, Veneziano almost ignored it. He was feeding his brother, and he was sure that Romano's favorite pasta recipe would get him talking again. But when the knocks persisted, he sighed and put the bowl down. "Hang on, fratello. I'm just going to answer the door, okay?"

No response. But then, Veneziano wasn't really expecting one. He skipped to the door, opening it and gasping. It was big brother Spain! He hugged him tightly, squealing delightfully. "Big brother! Finally you have come to visit! Ah, I knew you would come eventually! Oh, Romano will be so happy to see you!"

Spain hugged the smaller nation back, smiling. Veneziano was always good at making him feel better. The northern Italy just had that power. "Hola, Veneziano. I'm sorry for visiting so late. Is anyone else here?"

Veneziano shook his head, his hair curl bobbing cheerfully. "Nope! Germany and Japan left a while ago, so it's only me and fratello! Ah, it's actually very lucky that you're here, I need to go out and get some more food! Romano ate it all!" He paused. "Well, I ate it all, but he had some too! Do you mind watching fratello for me? I don't want him getting thirsty or anything. Plus, one of his cuts could reopen again!"

The Spaniard chuckled, patting the other's head. "Sí, I would love to. Take all the time you need."

The excitable nation brightened, then yelled toward the steps, "I'm going out, fratello! Don't worry, someone is here to see you!" He gave Spain another hug, before leaving the house.

Spain watched him go, waiting until he was really gone to go upstairs. He walked slowly, thinking of all the things he was going to say to Romano. He opened the bedroom door, the smile on his face growing. "Hola, mi tomate."

Immediately, Romano responded. He started to tremble, panting and gasping fervently. His eyes didn't leave the ceiling however. How rude of him, not looking at his guest. Spain approached him, and hissed into his ear, "Look at me while I'm talking to you."

The nation obeyed, his eyes reluctantly shifting over to stare at him. Spain smiled at him, and it was such a kind, genuine smile that some of Romano's fear disappeared. Maybe he was better now. He had to be. After all that, he couldn't still be psychotic, right? "Oh, my poor Roma. Did I really do this to you?" His rough, calloused fingers ran down the injured nation's face, in a way that didn't hurt his wounds, but made it all feel a bit better.

Romano opened his mouth, his tears blurring the sight of his beloved ex-caretaker. "Spain..." he croaked, reaching a bandaged arm out. Spain took his hand, kissing all of his fingers, giving the one without a nail extra attention.

"Forgive me, Romano. Forgive me...I was a fool. I went mad, and I almost didn't recover. But I realize...you don't deserve such cruelty. Not at all. I...I went too far with trying to fix you. I should've stopped earlier, and you would've still been so obedient. My actions were hideous, and I know this. Please...I'm sorry." His emerald eyes pierced the other nation, and Romano was hesitant to forgive him. He was a monster, there wasn't a single doubt about that. He would always want to hurt him.

Yet, Romano sobbed and opened up his arms, holding on to Spain tightly as they embraced. He loved this man, he loved him so much. He didn't want him to leave, because then who would love him the same way? Romano had came to the conclusion that he was simply unlovable, to everyone but Spain. He never left him, he always returned to the Italian nation. Romano needed him, or he would truly perish.

"You jerk...you really hurt me this time...you fucking bastard," wailed Romano, though his words sounded more like his usual grumpiness than actual hatred. Everything seemed normal again, and it secretly frightened both of them terribly. What would happen? How would the others react? What were they doing to each other?

"Lo siento, mi tomate," Spain cooed, kissing every inch of the Italian's face, lingering slightly on Romano's chapped lips. He nuzzled the smaller nation's bruised cheek lovingly, savoring the embarrassing grumble he got in return.

"You better not do that shit again. Ever!"

"I won't."

"Do you promise?" Romano sounded nervous as he asked this, his voice quivering just a bit. It was just so cute. Spain kissed him passionately, until both of them were out of breath and panting.

"I promise, Romano. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Promises are easily broken. At the time, Spain and Romano knew this all too well.

But as long as they were in love, this seemed just fine.

THE END THAT'S IT I'M DONE

So in the end nothing is okay and I still can't write angst. Cheers.

This was a ton of fun. Hope you guys enjoyed this as well.

I'm actually planning to write another Hetalia horror story sometime soon. Think I'm cut out?

Also, as a last note, don't interpret ANY of this as a healthy, adorable romance. I mean, I think Spain and Romano WOULD have a healthy relationship, but it is in no way stable in this story wow.

That's all. Thanks for reading.