Lest We Forget

A/N: YO! This is gonna be my first APH fanfiction—I hope you all don't kill me…Please. Oh. I'll intermittently use their human names; it gets a touch awkward if you keep saying "Spain said" and "America snarled" etc. Haha. I want some paella…

Disclaimer: I don't own APH…sadly…

Chapter 1 "Adios, Russia"

The only reason America awoke that fateful morning was because of Australia. The American's little brother came bursting into his room that morning, complaining about jetlag and difference in time zones.

"You know," The Australian mused, rubbing his evil koala's ear. "I don't see a point in the damn time zones. They just mess me up…crikey."

America frowned sleepily at his younger brother, running a hand through his messy wheat coloured tresses. "Ya know, you Aussie, the World Conference isn't for another few hours—why don't you go crash on my couch?"

Australia looked thoughtful for a moment, giving his brother a sideways glance before nodding. "Right, and then, what?"

The American actually seemed to be getting annoyed for once in his life. Normally, America would've brushed off his brother's stupidity but today he was too tired to deal with it. "Aussie," he grumbled, flopping back into his masses of pillows, "Go to bed."

The morning progressed forward with America sleeping through his alarm and Australia falling off of America's couch. Around ten in the morning, America jolted awake to his phone ringing. "Hello?" he slurred, sleep fogging his voice over.

"Where are you and Australia, you git? The meeting started an hour ago and we're waiting on you!" England's rough voice came over the phone, his voice raising and lowering in amplitude in accordance with his mood.

"Ah—well, uhm, you see, friggen' Aussie woke me up at like six in the friggen mornin' cause he didn't know the difference in the damn time zones, so now he's passed out on my couch and I slept through my alarm."

"You have fifteen minutes to get yourself and Australia up and get your asses here. Now." England then promptly hung up the phone.

America stared at his phone, blinking sleepily before fully processing what had just happened. "Aw, shit man! Hey, Aussie," America shouted, jumping out of bed and running downstairs, "We gotta meeting, bro!"

Australia stirred lightly in his peaceful slumber. "Crikey, mate, do we have to fuggin' get up this damn early?"

"Yes!" America retorted, spinning on his heels to go and get dressed. "Iggy said we only have fifteen minutes."

"Maybe you do, you Yank, but 'Iggy' loves me so, if I'm a touch late he wouldn't give a fly."

America frowned. "I'm callin' bullshit on ya, man."

Australia smirked, pushing his slouch hat back from his face, allowing it to dangle around his neck. "Crikey, you're loud Yankee. Get dressed so we can get the hell outta here."

The blonde American smirked at his younger brother and headed back upstairs. Today was going to be a long day.

WORLD CONFERENCE, GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

Silence settled across the room as the last members trickled into the conference, taking their respected seats around the table—two seats were empty and each country eyed the empty spaces uncomfortably. The cheerful Spain wasn't there to make everyone's lives just a little bit sunnier; and the disturbing Russia was banned, now unable to torture the countries of the world—especially the smaller, weaker ones.

"Where's Spain?" a tentative Japan asked, fidgeting slightly as the death glare of Romano came flying his way. No one dared asked about Russia, they already knew. America had allowed the order to go through the last meeting, and no country, other than Ukraine and Belarus objected.

Germany nodded. "That's why this meeting was called. Russia is out of control, hence why the motion from the last meeting carried through." The German cleared his throat, and awkward silence settling over the room. Not even America was making absurd remarks. "Now, last night at approximately 11 PM, Russian aerial bombers led an unprovoked attack on the Spanish cities Barcelona and Madrid."

"No word on Antonio?" America asked, leaning back in his chair, gnawing quietly on his gum.

"We believe Russia has him—and we found a note on the Capital steps in Madrid." Germany mumbled, pulling the paper from his pocket and placing it on the table.

"Well, what's the paper read?" Romano demanded frustration evident on his face. "And you, Burger-lover." America quirked an eyebrow at Romano, prodding him further, "Don't call Spain Antonio."

"He calls me Alfred," the country retorted, tiredly.

Germany cleared his throat and the two bickering nations instantly quieted. "Anyway—the note, in short, is a list of countries and cities that we assume Russia is after next. Does anyone have a plan of action?"

"We need to declare war on Russia," America yawned. "Isn't it obvious? We've, and by we've I mean the UN, not me, become so lax that the commie bastard thinks he can step all over us, and by us I mean you guys."

England rolled his eyes at America. "You do have a point, for once. But, Alfred, you, too, have become lax, and you're also part of the UN."

"I'm in fucking Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan! That's not being lax you idiot, that's spreading my troops too thin and being in a God damn war that has no meaning! And don't call me Alfred, Arthur," America retorted quickly.

Silence once again blanketed the conference room as the two nations glared daggers at one another. France decided his voice was needed and stood up gracefully. "Now, now," he cooed gently, flipping his curly blonde hair behind his shoulder. "America truly does have a point. We must stop Russia at all costs. Germany, what's the next city listed on the piece of paper?"

"Washington D.C, United States of America,"

America jerked his eyes away from England and directed their stern blue gaze at Germany, "Pardon?"

"Your capital, America,"

America stayed quiet, glancing away from the group and out the window. "Can this meeting be adjourned? Or, better yet, continue without me. I have a country to attend to."

The countries of the world stayed silent, save for England. "Alfred, please. We don't know if anything's happened yet. Sit down and take a minute to process what Germany's said."

America coughed and glanced at his hand, a snippy retort forming in his mind. Small dots of red were spread on his hand. A grimace of pain suddenly graced his normally cheerful features. "News. Now," he growled, sliding back down into his seat, the blonde's normally bright blue eyes scrunching up in pain.

England nodded and the maid in the room quickly turned the sole television in the room to the news.

"As of now, death tolls are unknown, but the President has sent a declaration of war to Congress to be looked at. Russian fighter jets attacked the cities Chicago and New York all but 30 minutes ago and now, the Russian Air Force is letting their fury be known on our beloved Capital. From Washington D.C, this is Andrea Hernandez reporting, back to you all in the studio."

"Shit," Alfred cursed, leaning tiredly back in his seat. "Russia's gone too far this time," he snarled.

The countries of the world stared in disbelief as they watched America's beloved home get bombarded with explosives. Flames rippled across the screen and decimated the beautiful capital. America, a defeated look plastered on his face, just laid his head on the table, allowing his eyes to be covered by his arms.

England moved and sat by his ex-colony, rubbing his hand soothingly over Alfred's back, mumbling words of encouragement to the silent country.

"We need to do something," Australia growled, standing up roughly. "The Yankee's right. We've allowed Russia to step all over us and here we are bickering over what to do!"

The nations all glanced at Australia. "Si." Romano grumbled resting his head on the palm of his head. "The stupid animal lover has a point. And anyway, this place is boring without that stupid tomato bastard."

Australia twitched in irritation. "Crikey, you little brat…" he growled.

New Zealand glanced around the room and cleared his throat. "Well, instead of sitting here, why don't we all head to the United States and see if we can force the Russian troops out, America, is that a good idea?"

All eyes turned to the silent American.

"America?" Australia asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his brother.

England just shook his head and mumbled something to America, instantly gaining a response from the rattled American.

"Excuse me, Arthur, but I refuse to be lectured by you," America snapped, lifting his head from the table to give the death glare to England. "I'll deal with my national crisis on my own. I don't need any damn sympathy from anyone, especially you."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "You ungrateful little child, your brother was only making a suggestion. How dare you snap at me like that!"

"Do you really think I give a shit about how you feel, are you daft? I swear to God, you keep giving me more reasons to add to the list as to why I left you in the first place!"

"You, Alfred, need to learn how to read a bloody situation! Read the atmosphere in a room, no one needs your little immature spouts of anger!" England seethed, and grabbed America by his shirt, pulling him forward.

"Put a can in it, England! I'm tired of you trying to tell me what to do, how to do it, and when! You've done this since I was a kid and I'm sick of your "brotherly" intervention! It's unwanted, unnecessary and unappreciated!" America hissed, slapping away England's hands. "Now get your damn hands off me before I deck you to the floor, you son of a bitch." America winced and coughed, gasping for air as he pushed himself away from England.

England pulled away and mumbled a quiet "I'm sorry," before sitting down, exhausted. "Go. Do what you want. But if you need help, don't expect me to be there with my hand extended for you."

America wheezed and glanced tiredly at England, and then at the rest of the nations who sat in silent awe at the sudden outburst of the two nations. "I give up," America grumbled, sitting back down and slumping in his seat until he could rest his chin on the fine cherry wood table.

Germany cleared his throat uneasily. "Ahem, anyway, New Zealand, your idea is excellent. America, is that all right with you?"

"Yeah, yeah, do what you want." America whispered his voice raspy from his coughing and argument with England.

"Let's go then," France smiled, standing up. As such, the meeting in Geneva, Switzerland was adjourned.

WASHINGTON D.C, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

America was the first to step onto the destroyed grounds of his nation's capital. An eerie silence had made its home over the ruble that used to be the District of Columbia. "My poor city," America mumbled, kicking some burnt brick out of his path.

Silently, the other countries footed the fire burnt grass and sidewalks of D.C. "Oh my," Seychelles gasped, covering her mouth and nose with her hands.

The smell of smoldering human flesh lingered in the air and even Germany was having trouble keeping himself from retching at the revolting smells and sight. "Is this what Madrid and Barcelona looked liked, Romano?"

The Italian nodded dryly, his dark brown eyes glancing around at the destruction. "Where are the Russians?"

America glared at Romano. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Why do you have to be so irritated today? Jeez, someone needs to stuff a ham—" Romano was instantly cut off by hands flying to cover his mouth.

"Pardon, do you care to repeat that, Romano?" America growled, a slightly annoyed expression replacing the somber one that had been on his face not too long ago.

Romano flinched at the American's onslaught of words. "No," he growled, his piercing nutmeg coloured eyes shooting daggers at the frazzled American.

"Good, that's what I thought,"

"Well, there's nothing we can do here it looks like. Perhaps we should go to Russia. There, I'm sure we can find the MIA Spain and perhaps even stop Russia in his bloody tracks. America, can we use one of your political buildings for a meeting?" England theorized, biting his lip in thought.

"They're all burnt to a crisp…."

Silence settled over the group once more, and America sighed. "Hopefully, my house isn't destroyed. Let's group there; perhaps we can make some sense out of all this shit that's going on."

Germany nodded. "That's a sound plan. We'll gather at America's house—which is close, I presume."

America nodded. "Yeah, it's in Potomac, Maryland. Not too far from Washington."

POTOMAC, MARYLAND, U.S.A

America messed with his keys, the sound of clinking metal slicing through the air. "Now which one is it?" Alfred grumbled, flipping through his keys, "Ah." He sung quietly, turning the key and unlatching the door. "Welcome to my humble abode."

The countries shuffled inside and America kicked his shoes off at the door, instantly relaxing as soon as he stepped foot into his door.

"~Ve, America! I love the couture in here!" Italy smiled, spinning in circles to glance at the walls; the Italian pranced over to the flowers on the foyer's tables and smelled them thoughtfully. "The roses are pretty!"

America smiled weakly at the nation and just shook his head. "Make yourselves at home—I'll make some coffee," Alfred glanced at England, "And tea. The meeting room is just down the hall and to the left, unless you all wanna use the den, in that case, it's down the hall and to the right."

The countries nodded as they watched America walk off, a prideful stride keeping the other nations from worrying too much.

"He seems to be doing all right," China commented tilting his head.

"It's all a façade. America's pride won't let us see him when he's been pushed down. He's probably already humiliated from this morning and as such he's trying to keep a strong face to keep us from thinking he's incapable of helping. To be perfectly honest, I'm sure his mental state has been compromised. When America's home is threatened, Alfred sort of loses sight of the big picture and he focuses on what's directly in front of him." England sighed, shaking his head in worry. "Sadly, right now all we can do is stand behind him and hope for the best."

Australia sighed and flopped down on the couch he had been sleeping on earlier that morning, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly. "We really need to do something about Russia."

England nodded. "Right, Russia's stepping on nations that would otherwise be able to destroy him…I believe he's looking for powerhouses that are suffering right now."

"That still brings in the question of Spain, Angleterre." France pointed out, a frown crossing his face. "Spain may have been a powerhouse, but he certainly isn't now, though his economy is suffering greatly."

"Spain's making a comeback to the title of international powerhouse," America piped in, walking through the door, tray in hand. "Russia's going after countries he feels threaten his position of power."

England nodded. "Just as I said, if Russia's taken out Spain already, and harassed the United States," Alfred made a face at England, "then that leaves the other powerhouses of the world, such as me, China and Japan."

China pouted. "I'm closer to Russia than Japan, so does that make me the next potential target?"

"Sadly, yes." Germany sighed, taking a beer gratefully from America. "It seems as if Russia is also attacking economic powerhouses, so, I hate to say it, but that leaves out Greece."

Greece blinked sleepily. "That's fine. I don't really want to be a part of this conflict." His rough, aged hands stroked the cat sitting in his lap. "I don't think I have anything Russia would want, anyway."

Germany shrugged and took a swig of his beer. "Mmm, all the countries have something that Russia wants."

"Which is?" Australia snapped.

"Land," America offered. "Russia may be the largest nation in the world, but 90% of his land is uninhabited due to the harsh living conditions, Siberia, anyone?"

Germany nodded. "That's reasonable enough, since the UN cut off trade with Russia; he's been running out of resources. I'm sure that's part of the reason, and perhaps he wants to continue what he started in World War II."

"At all costs, we need to stop Russia from advancing into anymore nations."

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

Russia jerked back brunette hair, tilting Spain's head back until his neck was exposed to the cynical nation. "Oh, Antonio, let's take a good look at this situation. You, a power-hungry, economically starved nation, are in the clutches of me, a large communist powerhouse."

"Bite me, tu hijo de puta," Spain hissed, "Lo lamento el dia que invadio el Reino de Pasion."

"I don't speak your pathetic language, Antonio. Do translate." Russia growled, jerking back on Spain's curly brunette hair once more.

"I said," The nation snarled, "You'll regret the day you invaded the Kingdom of Passion."

"And before that nasty comment?" Russia asked, tilting his head to the side, loosening his grip on the Spaniard's abused head.

"I called you a son of a bitch, isn't that obvious?" Spain muttered, suppressing a groan of pain as Russia tugged Antonio's head backward into an unnatural position. "Spanish is not that difficult a language to understand. No es dificil."

Russia bit his lip in thought and released Antonio's head once again, the smaller nation quietly sighing in relief, but Russia wasn't done. As soon as the cold nation released the Spaniard, he took his heavy boot-clad foot and slammed it down on Spain's back, forcing the other nation to the ground. Spain breathed heavily through clenched teeth, his emerald eyes glittering with new found hatred. Russia sneered and twisted his foot roughly into Antonio's back until a sickening crack was hard. "You shouldn't be so rude, Spain." Russia chastised, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Spain laughed hollowly. "Well, forgive me for my lack of manners."

Russia growled dangerously at this comment and slammed his foot harder into Spain's back, a small yelp escaping through Spain's chapped lips. "You seem to forget the situation that you're in, España."

"Oh, not at all, Russia, you've got me all wrong. I know very well the situation I'm in. I'm just trying my hardest to negate you of the reactions you so desire."

Russia's innocent smile disappeared, his violet eyes darkening in annoyance. "Spain," he growled, sitting his weight on the suppressed nation. "For being such a carefree nation, you're being awfully serious."

"The situation calls for it," Spain retorted, grimacing in pain as more weight was added to his already abused back. "I'm not understanding why you chose to invade my country though, please enlighten me." Spain mumbled, twisting his shoulders back in a feeble attempt to get slightly more comfortable and alleviate some of the pain that he was being assaulted with.

Russia let out a quiet, almost innocent laugh. "You certainly are naïve. Even though your nation's economy is in shambles, your land is still fertile," a wandering hand from Russia ran its way down Antonio's leg, causing the other nation to shudder. "You still have territories and, your bright and warm climate is appealing to those of us who live close towards the Arctic Circle." Russia toyed with a hole in Antonio's pants, his wandering fingers widening the tear in the fabric ever so slightly, the action, of course, was not unnoticed by Spain. "Your government decided to rebuild your once great Kingdom, and as such, your military is a growing threat to other international power houses."

"You seem to miss the point, Ruso," Spain growled. "My military is growing in numbers to combat nations that are insane, such as you."

Russia quirked a platinum blonde eyebrow at the nation underneath his foot, "I see," he mumbled, scratching his chin. "So, Spain," Russia bent down and ran a hand across Antonio's unshaven face, "what will it take to allow me the honour to see you writhing in agony?"

Spain cringed at the touch and instantly jerked his face away from Russia's wandering hands. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself, would ya?" Spain snapped, feebly attempting to pull his pinned body away from the larger nation.

Relief came in a wave as Antonio felt the immense weight of Russia lift off of his back; a small sigh escaped his lips as Antonio relaxed ever so slightly. Russia's hands left Spain's body and the sound of heavy boots echoed off of the almost bare walls of Russia's simple home. Instantly, panic overtook Spain as he frantically tried to read the situation, figure out just exactly what Russia was planning on doing to him. Antonio struggled to stand, but was instantly felled by immense pain in his ribs. Hissing, Spain's fingers prodded his side, assessing the damage done. His shaky fingers curled gently against broken ribs and another moan escaped Spain's lips as a searing pain assaulted his senses.

"Feeling the effects, da?" Russia asked, returning to the gasping nation on the floor. "I wouldn't relax too much if I were you, Spain. I'm not done with you yet."

With a great amount of painful effort, Spain twisted his abused body so he could face Russia properly. His emerald eyes were hazy with misery and incoherence, and his olive coloured face was contorted in agony. "Do your worst," Spain snarled, venom dripping from his raspy voice.

"With pleasure," Russia smiled, innocently, drawing his metal pipe from behind his back. "I'm going to have fun beating you into submission. I want to hear you squeal, wail, moan, groan, growl, and hiss and I want to see you writhe, cringe, shudder and flinch in agony. I want to be the death of you, Spain."

A/N: Okay, if you guys haven't noticed yet, I really don't like Russia, yet I love España. Haha I have fun torturing my favourite characters. I apologize for my Spanish. Even though I'm a fourth year Spanish student, speaking as I would in English is difficult when translating to Spanish, so if there is anything incorrect please feel free to correct me (I really do love my Spanish/English dictionary). Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, please R/R! :D ~KazeRose

A/N 2: YES! I KNOW, Spain is slightly (more leaning towards the HOLY SHIT ES UN CONQUISTADOR!) OC, but seriously, if you were thrust into that situation, how the hell would you react, I'm sure even my buddy Mr. Alfred F. Jones would throw aside his cute little HERO routine and attach a much more serious face. So no flames on that unless you want Russia assaulting you with his pipe.