England was the first to run into the restroom to see what was going on. He looked at me sadly before kneeling next to Lithuania and beginning to heal him. More nations filed in and stared at me in shock. I could feel Poland's unforgiving glare and Norway's cold, knowing gaze. Someone grabbed me by my arm and pulled me out.

"He'll be fine, Siberia." It was Russia who guided me across the sunny parking lot to his car. "He's a nation; he can't die."

"Why is it always him?" I moaned quietly, my voice hoarse from screaming. Russia opened the passenger side door for me, and I sat down. Red still swirled violently in my mind, and I was vaguely aware of Lithuania's blood still on my hands.

"What happened, little sister? You were so close to succeeding." We were driving. I watched the scenery go by, feeling sobs caught in my chest.

"I…don't know," I said finally. "I blacked out, or something, and when I came to…" One sob escaped, then another. Hot tears fell out of my eyes. It was finally setting in, what had just happened. I had hurt my friend, again. "You were right. Everyone was right. I am a monster. And now I have to go."

Russia made a small sound. "You…don't have to go. You can stay at my house, and we can try again in another hundred years or so."

"No, we had a deal, and I lost. I have to go back. I don't belong here, and I only hurt people. I need to go, brother."

He was silent for a long time before he finally nodded and said "Okay."

I hugged my knees to my chest and stared out the window as we drove. It was hard not to break down and cry more, but I knew I didn't deserve to cry. Crying would be a relief, and I had to force myself to feel all of the guilt. At least I would get my punishment soon.

"We are going on a plane, little sister. Will you be alright?" Russia's voice grabbed my attention, and I realized we were parked at an airport.

"Yes," I answered quietly, "I'll be alright." Ironically, I felt more in control than I ever had, even though I was still half-dazed. Stepping out of the car, I realized I was still in Belarus's bathing suit with no shoes, and my hands were still covered in Lithuania's blood.

When we got onto the jet, Russia took me to the small restroom and had me clean the blood off. Watching the red wash down the sink, I started to sob again.

"It wasn't your fault, Siberia," Russia said half-heartedly as we took our seats.

"Don't say that. It was entirely my fault. You tried to warn me, and I didn't listen. I let myself believe that I could be your equal. I was wrong. I was so, so wrong." I covered my face with my hands and bit my lip to hold back the tears. I tasted blood. Like Lithuania's blood that had coated his face.

The flight was excruciatingly slow. In total, it probably only took about two and a half hours, but it felt like six or seven. I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't enjoy the view. All I could do was sit there and feel my entire existence fall apart. I tried to imagine what it would be like to go back to my own world, but I knew I wouldn't make it. Even if I did, it wouldn't be Siberia's world.

When we finally landed, I was completely consumed by self-loathing and guilt. Being home didn't make me feel any better, despite the fact that I would be getting what I deserved soon. Russia silently pulled his car into the driveway and dragged his hand down his face. It was then that I noticed how distraught he was, but I couldn't find any words to make him feel better. I simply followed him into the house, keeping my head bowed. All my tears were gone.

"I need a drink," Russia finally said when we were inside. "Do you want something?" I shook my head, and he sighed heavily before heading into the kitchen. I followed and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Where do we…?" I started to ask, but I didn't know how to finish my sentence.

Russia set a full bottle of vodka and two glasses down on the table. He sat across from me, filled them both, and slid one to me.

"No, I don't want—"

"I'll send you back tomorrow. Let's just have this last night together." He sounded so sad that I decided not to push it further. I wanted to go as soon as possible, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want to drown everything together with my brother.

"You asked me once if I ever considered sending you back," Russia said after downing the first glass and refilling it. "When I told my boss what England had done, he ordered me to send you back. I had begun making the preparations when England told me that it would probably kill you. I was going to do it anyway, but you changed my mind."

"I did?" I took a sip from my cup. The alcohol burned all the way down.

"Yes, you were in a similar state to now. I felt immense pity for you and just wanted to put you out of your misery. You started talking to me once when I brought you something to eat. It was the first time I had heard you actually speak. Do you remember that?"

"I think I asked you who I was?"

"Yes, and I told you that you were the personification of Siberia. It was close enough." Russia shrugged before taking another drink.

"Then I think I asked who you were." I had to think hard to pull up the fuzzy memories. Mostly I just remembered being locked in a dark room during those days.

"Yes, you did. I told you that I was the personification of Russia and that Siberia was part of Russia.

'Does that make you my big brother?' you asked. I wondered where you had heard that from."

"Belarus, most likely."

"Probably. I told you that you could call me that if you wanted, and you asked if that made you my little sister. That's when I realized that I should be protecting you, not trying to get rid of you." He paused to empty his glass and refill it. "So I told my boss that it would be impossible to send you back."

"You lied to your boss?" I gawked at him, the alcohol making me forget, just a little, how awful I felt.

"Yes, I did. He told me that you were my responsibility, and I would have to make sure you never got out."

"And I made sure you broke that promise."

"We both made mistakes."

"You won't have to take responsibility once I'm gone, will you?"

"Most likely."

"You shouldn't."

"Yes, this is as much my fault as it is yours. Probably even more."

We drank in silence for a while. Before I knew it, the first bottle was empty and a second was half gone. I didn't feel as wretched anymore. In fact, I didn't feel much at all. It was nice to lay my head on the table and let myself sink into oblivion. I was vaguely aware of being lifted and then laid on a bed. My own bed. That was nice, too. I fell into a deep, deep sleep, and I had no dreams.

I awoke the next morning feeling nothing but determination and a headache. Today was the day. I had to go. It had to be done.

I found Russia in his office looking more exhausted than I had ever seen him. It was crazy to think that little over a week ago, he had woken up with a hangover. He nodded at me grimly, stood up, and beckoned me to follow him.

We walked out of his office and down the hallway to a door that I hadn't used in years. Behind it was a winding staircase leading into a dark basement. At the end of the stone hallway was a heavy wooden door that led to my old "workroom," and I shivered at the sight of it. But we didn't use that door. Instead, Russia opened the first wooden door on the left. It led to a sort of secondary office full of occultist books and objects. There was a space on the floor where a large circle had been drawn in white chalk. There were various symbols both inside and outside the circle. Russia indicated that I should step into the circle, and I obliged.

I took a moment to observe the room, as it would probably be the last thing I saw. The floor and walls were all made of old stone. Though Russia had rebuilt and remodeled his house several times over the years, this whole basement was probably still original. Books lined the walls, and a small wooden desk sat in the corner. There was one large, old tome open on top of the desk, and though I couldn't read what was on the pages, I knew they told how to send me back.

Finally, I observed Russia, my brother. My alternate self. He still wore the clothes from the day before, and I suspected he hadn't slept at all. There were dark bags underneath his eyes, and his mouth held a slight frown.

"I hope you'll get some rest after this is all over," I said quietly. He attempted to smile at me before wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Goodbye, Siberia, little sister," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Russia, big brother."

He released me and grabbed the tome. He began to chant in an ancient language that I barely recognized. As with other spells, the words seemed to come out of the page and wrap themselves around me. However, instead of being gently warmed by them, they burned. I winced, but the pain only got worse. They squeezed around me tightly, then I felt a strange tugging sensation from all directions. The tugging turned into pulling, which turned into ripping.

It felt like every bit of me was being shredded into tiny pieces. I wanted to scream, but I found I didn't have a voice to scream with. Nor did I have a tongue. I realized I couldn't see anything anymore. I couldn't feel anything other than the searing pain. Then I felt my own mind being ripped apart. This is goodbye…

Finally, I'm back. Suddenly, the ripping feeling turned into a horrible pressure, like all my bits were being squeezed back together. The pain turned back into burning, and I felt my knees buckle under me. Before I could register that I had knees again, I hit the ground.

I lay very still for a long time as the pain subsided. I opened my eyes and blinked the blurriness away. I saw a dark red carpet on the floor. My dark red carpet. I was in my house. I felt such joy well up inside of me that I started to giggle. I carefully rolled over, sat up, and looked around. Yes, this was definitely my house, which means I survived the journey back. I checked my mind. Only my voice in there. That artificial soul was finally gone. I had my body to myself again.

"Good to see you again," drawled a low voice above me. I looked up to see a hand offered to me. I refused it, carefully picking myself up on my own. The owner of the hand smirked down at me. He was a lot taller than me, and his silvery blond hair and trench coat registered in my memory. I smiled at him.

"Good to see you, too, Belarus."

"Welcome back, big sister."

AN: We made it to the end, and 2p!fem!Russia is back! Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me. I am considering writing a sequel to this, but I have no real plot in mind. Unfortunately, Siberia is gone now, so she would not be in it. It would only be alternate Russia. Please let me know if you enjoyed Monster, and/or if you would be interested in a sequel. Thanks again!