A/N: HI.

I'm pissed off at the dub of this show (and maybe this show in general?) and have had a somewhat chaotic life as of late.

But I still love these characters. And I love the historical aspect of things.

This fanfic, oddly enough, is not historical time-line accurate. England didn't bomb Italy's Navy into oblivion until, like, 1941. Whatever.

I love the FascistNuetral!Spain and Nazi!Germany interactions. And Spain/England in general.

"I have nothing to thank you for, Spain. Now kindly get out of my house."

"Nothing?"

"I never have."

Spain laughed, his bright green eyes flashing madness and sorrow all at once, his smile never-fading. "Oh, don't be so sure, darling England. Don't be so sure."

Spain sits on a tall chair, waiting for Germany to come in. Outside, he can smell the air begin to reek of death. Or perhaps that's just an all too persistent memory. Memory, after all, does persist for their kind, causing the time and sanities that humans hold so dear to ooze into nothing, dripping down into their actions, and sometimes into their people. Soft rains of washed away sanity slowly becoming nothing but the insane left to dump…

"I'm sorry I'm late, my boss detained me for longer than previously anticipated." Germany has high-cheek bones, brilliant blue eyes, and a new, black and red uniform. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Your ever so tempting offer."

"Tempting offer? Spain," Germany sits down across the table and folds his hands into a steeple. He is a very put together nation. "It's the only natural option you have. You'll join your most useful ally-"

"Which one are you speaking of?"

"Italy, of course."

"There are those in my country who would argue that Russia…"

"And there are those," Germany says, curtly and coldly, "Who would remind you that Communism is a system of failure."

"Oh, I'm not arguing your point," Spain laughs, "And in the end, you were my most trusted friend." He has his hands under the table, and as he lies, he touches his wrists, feels the still oozing, deep cuts. If he were to explore his chest, he would find the all too familiar burn above his left pectoral, the scar tissue expanding to the spot just above his heart. It's all so painfully symbolic.

"And what would I have to thank you for, Antonio?"

"Well, Arthur," Spain has never been one to back down from a challenge. "I didn't take up with Germany."

"Don't try to lie to me. I can smell him on you. Cheap cologne and blood."

"The blood is mostly mine. And he wears his attempt at humanity too thickly, doesn't he?"

England glares. "I wouldn't know. I don't go with him much since he started the Great War. I never went with him much before anyhow. He's less interesting than Prussia was."

"Then," Germany sighs, "If you aren't arguing the point, what are you saying?"

"I won't fight with you."

"You won't? After everything I've done for you?" Germany stands up, his composure breaking instantly and terrifyingly. He has become a madman, his eyes full of fury, his fist slammed onto the table. "After all the help I gave to you and your cause-"

"Was mining me for iron ore helpful?" Spain laughed, standing now, not to be intimidated. "Was using me as a practice ground for the mad quest you intend to embark on to my own benefit?"

"It was a costly war and Italy and I-"

"Tore me up from the inside out. As did Russia."

"Your boss specifically requested us to take out the problem-"

"There was no problem!" Spain shrieked, his fury now matching Germany.

They had become two rabid dogs in a ring, sizing each other up, waiting to spring over the table and rip each other's throats out. Spain had had his fill of blood, but one more victim would be inconsequential… Germany rests his hand the pistol at his hip and debates striking down a nation who once ruled the world. "Think about what you're doing to Romano if you don't join me," Germany says finally, sitting back down, wiping spittle from his chin, his heart racing.

Spain bursts into laughter. "Oh, Germany. Why do you think I give a damn about Romano?"

"Well, since your old Royal Family is staying with him…"

"They're staying in Rome. I don't care about the Royal Family. They mean nothing now. My boss will restore my glory. But we cannot be part of your war. If you want your own glory, Germany, go seek it out."

"You do know he was right, don't you?" England sighed, going to the kitchen to make tea. He looked over his shoulder at Spain, who was now sitting on the sofa in the living room, absentmindedly playing with the string he substituted for a tie.

"About what?"

"Italy."

"Oh, Italy will be fine."

"Spain, haven't you heard?"

"Heard?"

"I destroyed Italy's Navy." England cannot help but smile as he says this. "The Mediterranean is my ground now."

"Oh, yes. That, I heard."

England leaves the kettle and comes to sit by Spain, leaning against the arm of the couch, sizing his former enemy up. There isn't much left of that great empire with his methods of torture and conquest left now… In many respects, England sympathizes with Spain. It can be so hard to deal with ungrateful children. Spain just happened to have so many more.

"And you could have prevented it."

"I didn't want to."

"Don't you love Romano?"

"Oh, England, hombre tonto," Spain laughs slightly, "What is love anyway?"

Germany stands up again, and goes to the window, looking out onto the cobblestone streets, watching the people move like rats. "I'll never understand you. You know I could shoot you where you stand."

"I know. I simply cannot fight with you."

"Do you deny me that you needed me?"

"No denial. You were most useful."

"As were you." Germany watches with dim interest the way the boys in the alley gang up on a woman wearing furs. She's probably Jewish, after all. Part of him wants to break through the glass, take the two story fall, and go and save her. But he stands still. It's useless to listen to the minority of the brain. "And I expect that we can still be friends…"

"Which means you expect me to keep giving to you what I gave."

"Yes."

Spain can't help but laugh again. It's his most natural reaction to bad news. "Alright. I'll give you materials and what will you give me?"

"I'll give you not wiping out your useless little sun-baked country until much later."

"I suppose for now that will have to work." Spain comes to stand by Germany, watching the robbery take place with the same devoid interest. "You're bound for destruction, you know."

"Don't tell me that sort of thing like you're some kind of mad prophet, Antonio."

"But I am a mad prophet, Ludwig."

"If you insist."

"Don't sound so broken. If you want your thousand year empire, you mustn't be so beaten down already." Antonio pats Germany's back. "Sonrisa, Alemania."

Germany finds this to be an impossible task. So instead, he takes moves out of Spain's reach and nods. "Go home then, Spain. I expect you to send me escapees from my conquered nations back to me, and I expect to be able to use whatever you can give me."

"And all your demands will be met," Spain replied cheerfully, heading to the door, and then saying over his shoulder, "Until your empire burns to the ground."

"I do wish you'd joined the war, Antonio."

"But on your side."

"Of course."

"At least your honest, Arthur. I really should go."

"You don't want tea?"England looked at Spain, confused.

Spain shook his head. "No, amado. I want peace. And tea will not bring me that."

"Peace. Do tell, Spain, what would bring you peace?"

Not having a Fascist dictator? Not having been broken down and abused? Not having lost the colonies of Latin America? Not having gone insane? "Knowing what love is," Spain replied, grinning.

"Love?" England laughed. "This, Spain, is love." He reached out and tenderly moved a curl of Spain's hair back, then kissed the other man's lips. They were cracked and dry.

"Is it?" Spain asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Yes. Now, run along home, generalissimo. I have a war to fight."

"Oh, Inglaterra. You aren't the only one."