Hello once again, readers! I'll start by giving you your warning:

This will be a dark fic with plenty of the grisly details and horrors of the American Civil War. This is your chance to turn back now if you are uncomfortable with certain sensitive materials such as gore, strong language, and mutilation. If not, then enjoy this angst-filled tale of America gone very wrong.

This fic will be as historically accurate as humanly possible while still weaving the personified nations into the tale. All historical notes and references will be in the bottom A/N.

I want to give a huge thanks to my amazing co-conspirator and beta for this, Kay (ykwyh26). Thanks for putting up with me and my ridiculousness. ;)

And with that said, on to the show!

November 6, 1860.

Alfred sighed heavily as he stared out across the beautiful lawn of the White House from the East Room. The sun was descending in the sky, leaving inky blue and purple trails above the trees that decorated the perimeter of the land. In the reflection cast by the lamps that adorned the room, Alfred could clearly see the dark bags under his eyes, flaunting just how worn he was. He ignored it, trying to see past himself.

His troubled, glass-blue eyes watched the sway of the finely trimmed grass under a gust of chill autumn wind while he waited. The young nation was anxiously awaiting the results of the presidential elections. Naturally, it would take some time to gather all the popular votes from across the country, but the Northeastern coast's votes would surely be in by this time along with the Electoral College's votes. That, in and of itself, would give him a clear idea of who the winner of the massive election would be.

All four candidates running worried him. Each one would cause even deeper rifts in the already growing political, economic and moral splits that tore up his bitter lands. The radical pro-Southern candidates worried him the most, but even so, not even the abolitionist parties were what he needed leading his people now. Silently, he mulled over the candidates, trying to work out their pros and cons in his head once more. The usually happily boisterous nation felt a heavy aura come over him when he did so.

John Bell was the first that came to mind. The young nation didn't exactly know what to think of the former Secretary of War. He was flighty with his party backing, and was unexpected in his voting decisions. Not to mention his Pro-Southern attitude. Alfred disliked him. The torn country needed a steady, predictable, and largely backed president.

Alfred began to drum his fingers on the windowsill as he thought of the next candidate: John Breckinridge. The nation loosed a low growl from his throat. He greatly disliked Breckinridge. The man had the support of the tumultuous South for his views and Buchanan's backing along with the rebellious spirit the young nation knew all too well. Alfred suspected he would become a threat with his popularity, if not his prestige from his vice presidency.

The American shook off his angry thoughts, moving to the next candidate on his mental list. The man's name was Stephen Douglas. Alfred's temper calmed. The political giant wasn't necessarily bad, he rationalized. He had helped to keep the country together ten years earlier; Alfred was grateful for that. The man was strong-willed, had more than enough popular backing and generally pleased Alfred with his policies. However, the final candidate had put Douglas into an interesting bind. Alfred smirked.

Abraham Lincoln: the chivalrous Illinois senator. Alfred had watched the man carefully through the Dred Scott case and the raging debates and conspiracies it had formed. He was relatively unheard of up until very recently, but he seemed to be the Republican Party's rising star. The man had a good conscience, Alfred decided, but he still was unsure if he had the popular support needed to keep the country together.

Then again, none of them did. The sectionalism was too great for any sort of unanimous backing. It made the torn nation long for the time before Jackson, when everything was politically well and he had had a few blissful years to relax after all the fighting and bloodshed that had come from his botched struggle for sovereignty. Prior to now had been his two grievous wars with England and after came the war with Mexico. Both brought up bitter memories. He shuddered, recalling the disgusted sneer on Arthur's face at their last meeting to make peace in 1814. Alfred forced himself to swallow those unkind recollections back down. Now wasn't the time for wallowing in the past. The young nation would soon have a new president to greet. He needed to get himself ready to properly meet his sixteenth leader and there was much to be done.

As he rose from his place on the windowsill, a knock reverberated on the East Room's tall door.

"Jones?" A familiar voice sounded from behind the wooden edifice.

"Yes? Enter." Alfred called back, making sure to keep his voice respectfully even.

The now ex-president entered with a faint, knowing smirk on his lips. He leaned on the heavy door, watching Alfred approach.

"How can I help you, Mr. President?" Alfred inquired formally, moving to stand beside the East Room's grand piano.

"I am the former president now, Jones. I came to see if you'd like to know the results of today's election and meet your newest leader?"

"It's done already?" Alfred blurted out with wide eyes.

"Indeed it is. I think you'll be just as interested in the winner as much as I am not. I assume you'll be glad to see me go."

The young nation had to resist the urge to scoff. Oh course Alfred would! He managed to retain his forcibly groomed sense of respectfulness around his ex-leader, but only with a great effort. How James knew about his distaste for the ex-president, Alfred didn't know. Over the years he'd learned not to grow overly attached to his leaders or share much of his personal beliefs with them. Only a select few had earned their way into his heart. It didn't matter now, since they were dead, but still, it bothered the young nation knowing Buchanan knew more than Alfred had voluntarily shared.

Buchanan raised his hand, motioning for the young nation to follow after him with a gesture. Obeying, the blue-eyed American found himself being led through the Cross Hall and into the Entrance Hall.

A tall man stood with a pair of servants chatting beside him. He was lanky, with deep-set, but kind, dark eyes. In his simply tailored suit, Alfred thought he looked like a formidable man: strong and decent. Maybe there was some hope coming out of this terrible election.

The servants dispersed when Buchanan and Alfred neared.

"Jones, meet President Lincoln." The former president announced, stepping aside so that Alfred could properly greet the man. He glanced to Lincoln. "Mr. President, meet the United States of America."

Alfred offered his hand to shake with a pleasant smile. Lincoln stepped up and shook the young nation's hand respectfully.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mr. America." He said in his odd voice, eyes twinkling.

"I'd rather you call me Alfred if you're going to stick around for the next four years." Alfred jested, surprised that the man had a much higher pitched voice than the nation would have expected with a fellow much larger than himself. Alfred tried not to grit his teeth when he noted Lincoln's voice was very lightly peppered with a Southern twang well. Still, his tone was humble and even, and Alfred very much liked that. Ever since Monroe had died he'd been dealing with pompous attitudes and a general discontent from his leaders. The man's genuine smile was a pleasant refresher.

"If you insist." The President said agreeably. "Then I'll have to ask you to call me Abe."

Alfred chuckled, releasing the man's hand with a brilliant smile.

"That I can do, Mr. President. It's ni-"

James had clearly had enough of the pleasantries, as he tried to usher them back towards the Cross Hall with a wave of his hands.

"While I'm sure the president would love to chat with you, Jones, I insist he be given a proper meal before you decide to talk his ears off as you tried with me. Besides, he will have to be given the grand tour as well. You'll have plenty of time to become acquainted, I'm sure."

Lincoln looked as if he might protest in support for Alfred when the young nation flashed a dangerous leer at Buchanan and decided it best he not start something on his first day as President. He patted Alfred's shoulder, offering up an apologetic smile when the ex-president turned to lead them towards the dinning rooms.

Buchanan led them into one of the White House's larger dining rooms. It was nearly five o'clock in the evening and dinner was to be served shortly. Alfred took his customary seat while the servants worked quietly around them.

The grand meal was served efficiently and eaten well. Alfred had always had a hearty appetite and was delighted that Lincoln seemed to match him. Buchanan seemed almost horrified by the two voracious eaters that sat with him. Alfred reveled in that simple fact. Sometimes his stiff leaders and Congressmen were fun to passively harass with his much more informal attitude: something he had adopted from Jefferson himself. He smiled inwardly at the fond memories that the third president stirred up in him.

When the servants had cleared away the dishes, James rose from his seat, pompously adjusting his jowl collar.

"Now then, Mr. President, shall we start the tour?"

"It's well past six, Mr. Buchanan! Give the man a rest!" Alfred interjected. Before the ex-president could respond, Lincoln nodded.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to retire to my bed early. I'm sure that a man like yourself could imagine the long day I've had." He said.

James nodded.

"Very well. I think I shall turn in early as well. Have a decent night's rest, gentlemen." Buchanan dismissed himself properly, leaving Alfred and Lincoln alone in the grand dinning room.

"Alfred," Lincoln started once he was sure Buchanan was well out of hearing distance.

The young nation made a soft noise in the back of his throat to indicate that he was listening. His eyes glimmered with interest as Lincoln adjusted his cuffs as he spoke.

"Would you mind if I spoke with you," he rose from his seat, "privately, that is?"

Alfred felt that same dark, depressing aura from earlier return to dampen his usually cheerful mood. Not even his earlier thoughts of Jefferson could chase away the dismal feeling that suddenly clenched his heart. Lincoln's suddenly somber tone reminded him of the problems he was currently facing. There was no age of Jefferson now, only a growing sectionalist hate.

"Sure. It's part of my job, anyway: advising the President and all." The blue-eyed nation stood, watching Lincoln with anxious eyes. He didn't want to ponder just what the new President wanted to talk about already with that tone of voice. He bit his lip when the other man didn't budge. It was then that he realized Lincoln was looking to him to lead.

"Oh, right." Alfred chuckled mirthlessly. "You don't know where anything is…"

He gestured for Lincoln to follow after him as he entered the broad Cross Hall that attached to the dining room. Taking the back staircase adjoined to the waiting room, he led the new President up to the second floor's West Wing.

Alfred pointed out a few of the rooms and hallways to the quietly observant president.

"Over there," Alfred pointed farther down the hall they had entered, "is the Yellow Oval Room and the Cabinet's Meeting Room."

He pivoted on his heel to direct Lincoln's attention towards the set of doors facing west.

"Those are the Presidential Bedrooms." The nation started forward again, opening the door for Lincoln to enter.

The tall man took a long look around before approaching the far window. Alfred sighed heavily before stepping up to Lincoln's side and leaning his shoulder on the wall. His azure eyes peered out the window into the darkness. He wondered if he ought to prod the new president about what he wanted to speak about. He didn't need to, as Lincoln cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Alfred. The young nation kept his gaze on the outside world, but felt the other man's dark eyes on him.

"Alfred, I have heard quite a bit about you, and from that I know you understand that this Union is troubled." The dark-eyed man took Alfred's haggard appearance to heart. The young nation had dark crescents under his eyes, and his lips seemed to perpetually twist in a troubled frown.

The nation nodded gravely. It was more than troubled. Alfred could already feel the awful side effects wracking his body as the country's turmoil raged on.

"I do."

"Then understand this, I intend to preserve it by all means. I wish to see the Union held together under a peaceful brotherhood." Lincoln stated. "But there is much to do before I take office. I must return to Springfield tomorrow, but I will return in the spring."

"I am aware," Alfred returned, jamming his hands informally in his pockets, "but I'm glad to hear that you wish for peace. I am tired of war, in all honesty, Abe. I feel like all I've done is fight since I decided to split from Arth- I mean, Britain."

"I can imagine so. I wished to speak with you about my plans but you appear just as tired as I feel. I won't drain you any further. My plans can wait for now. Go and rest, my friend; it is late."

The blond nation was grateful for the kindly dismissal. Unhitching himself from the wall, Alfred moved sluggishly to obey the given advice from his new leader. He strode across the floor; only glancing back to bid Abe a good night, then quietly shut the door behind him.

With a tired sigh, the young nation followed the long central hallway to one of the guest bedrooms in the East Wing. He smiled to himself when the door to his temporary room shut behind him with a faint click. Finally, after spending the entire day stressing about the election, the nation had a chance to unwind.

He tugged off his heavy suit jacket, carelessly dropping it to the ground without a second thought. He loosened his stiff collar with a rough yank before clambering onto the neatly made bed. He was asleep even before he had the chance to kick off his uncomfortable shoes.

December 20, 1860.

"Mr. America, sir!" One of the White House's many officers shouted frantically for him from the other side of the wide Cross Hall in the Usher's Room.

Alfred wearily looked over to the man. He rubbed his tired eyes with the calloused heels of his palms before crossing the hall.

"What now?" He grumbled. The nation had had a twisted, painful knot in his stomach all day for some foreboding reason and did not want to hear about any more problems. He'd been dealing with secession talks and crises for over a month now. It was wearing heavily on his already frayed nerves.

"Sir, I have terrible news." The officer announced with his head bowed. Alfred sighed heavily.

"I figured as much. What is it now? Has Kansas started bleeding again?" The nation jested darkly.

"No, sir. I've been entrusted to ensure you read this." The man handed an envelope with a broken wax seal set upon it. Alfred took it, removing the contents and unfolding the paper.

The nation read it once, then twice, and then a third time before the words scrawled on the page were finally imprinted in his mind. Alfred sighed heavily, feeling as if a steely knife had just been thrust into his core. This couldn't be happening. How could this be? He wondered with despondency.

The blond dismissed the officer before he stashed the letter in his breast pocket with trembling hands.

He looked up to the tall ceiling. The young nation was trying to keep the terrible ache he felt deep in his heart under control. His troubled eyes closed as he loosed an airy sigh before he mumbled to no one in particular:

"So, South Carolina has left the Union…."

History:

Nov. 6th1860 was the day Lincoln was elected out of four other candidates (there were four major parties, as opposed to our two today). Lincoln only had 40% of the popular vote, but 59% of the Electoral College's votes. The Deep South didn't even include Lincoln on their ballots! XD

Stephen A. Douglas was probably much more balanced as a candidate, with backing from all regions. However, the Northern populous pretty much determined the vote while the South and West had the ability to tip close elections. It was pretty much that way ever since…. well, ever. The North had always held the majority sway in the country. The South was growing tired of it and fighting back bitterly. I think they really missed the pro-South Jackson Era.

The other two didn't really stand a chance, combined they held less than thirty percent of the popular votes.

The Dred Scott affair (Scott v. Sandford) was the ruling the Supreme Court made in regards to black citizenship. Since slavery had purposely been left out of the constitution (Jefferson had tried to add that no new states could have slavery, but it was denied, since the founding fathers were already having trouble passing the thing in the first place, and didn't want to piss off the South), there was no official way to actually deal with something like this. The court ruled in favor of Sandford, since the court claimed that as a (former) slave, Scott was not a citizen and therefore could not sue a citizen (Sandford). It pretty much sent the entire country into an uproar that started the Lincoln-Douglas debates between the two top presidential candidates.

Lots of fights and arguments later, the Civil war broke out… This wasn't a surprise. The issue on slavery had been raging ever since 1776. It died down some with the relatively large progress America made as an independent power. After the Mexican-American War, and the US obtained the Southwest in 1846, it all came boiling back to the surface. Talks of secession went around for about 14 years before finally the South could take no more and the North couldn't come up with any more compromises.

James Buchanan was the president before Lincoln and didn't much like Abe. They were polar opposites. James was stiff and formal and mostly aloof, while Lincoln was semi-shy but chivalrous.

Yes, Lincoln had a high voice (not squeaky, but I'm sure most Americans picture one of our favorite presidents as deep voiced; no, he was a tenor, but his voice carried very well.) and since he spent nearly all of his speaking time in Kentucky and the way he wrote suggest that he did have a bit of Southern twang.

There had been major talks of secession in South Carolina since at least the late 1820s. (I'm not going to get into the extremely lengthy why, but basically SC hated all the measures passed that favored the North and hurt the South. They've always been the 'trouble' state.)

South Carolina officially seceded from the Union on Dec 20th, 1860 after a unanimous vote and declared that all measures to reason with the Federal Government had been defeated and that this was their final measure for the liberties they thought they'd been promised in the Constitution.

Yes, I imagine Jefferson taught America to be informal. The President greeted foreign diplomats in his slippers and robe for Pete's sake! XD He didn't care. He called himself a 'common man' and thought it was unnecessary to dress like a king to greet anyone. He didn't want anyone to think of the Presidency as a Monarchy (remember, we'd just fought a bloody, hard war to AVOID a leader that acted like a king).

Also, I did try to keep the White House structure historically proper. Remember, this was 1860: the Truman restoration had not yet occurred, and the house was considerably blander than it is now. No, Lincoln didn't sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom. It was named that after Truman. If anything, that room might have been a study…maybe, but certainly not a bedroom. Lincoln slept in the present day Master Bedroom.

The mention to Kansas bleeding was due to the Kansas-Nebraska Act in 1854. Basically, the Missouri Compromise that said slave states had to stay south and free states had to be north was thrown out the window! Slavers rushed to Kansas to claim the state as a slave state and the Northerns did the same thing to make it free. Basically Kansas became a border-war battleground and trust me, it got ugly (they even had two separate governments at one point: one pro-slavery, one anti-slavery).