"ALFRED!"

England's frantic cry was lost in the blaze of light. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep himself steady. Finally, the light disappeared and he realized just how cold he'd been. He shivered and slowly opened his tired eyes, afraid of what he was about to see.

America was still standing; the only change in his position was that his outstretched arms were now limp at his sides. England breathed a sigh of relief. He's okay…

His relief quickly turned to horror though, when the American's knees suddenly collapsed under him and he fell backward. England ran forward and just barely managed to catch him by his armpits.

"Bloody hell," England gasped, stumbling back under the weight. "He's heavy…" He set America down on the grass as gently as he could. Panting hard, he finally saw what the light had done. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as anxiety and fear started to well up in his stomach.

Blood was pouring from numerous gashes all over the young nation's body. There were bruises and scratches, and an especially nasty cut above his right eye. A long slash of red beginning to spread out on his jacket indicated more serious injuries on his chest and stomach. He was breathing very heavily, each gasp short and shallow. His face was pale, his eyes shut tight, and England was pretty sure arms weren't supposed to stick out at that angle.

"Alfred…!" he managed to choke out. His vision started to blur and his face felt hot. "Alfred!" He shook America weakly. "Alfred!" He could hear his voice getting shakier and more desperate with every cry. "Alfred, please! Wake up, damn it! Wake up!" Tears scalded his face, burning like hot cinders. He couldn't see and he felt dizzy, lightheaded.

"Arthur…" The weak voice was so quiet England almost missed it. He bit his lip nervously and leaned in to hear better.

"Arthur…" America smiled as best he could, trying to look reassuring. It only made England want to cry more. "Arthur, I-" America was cut off by a sudden coughing fit that wracked his entire body.

"Alfred, you can't die!" England moaned. "Please Alfred! Y-You can't, you're a country! You're immortal!"

"Not… Against… It…" America choked.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"I-It's… Some sort of… Demon… From Hell… Or something..." America's breaths were becoming heavier. His chest heaved again as he struggled to exhale. "It's purpose is…" He coughed weakly.

"What? What is it?"

"It becomes… Stronger… The more misery… It causes…" America inhaled sharply. "It came to me… One day… And said… If I didn't break… All my relationships… It would… Kill you…" His voice broke and his eyes fluttered half-open. He stared at England with his dull eyes and attempted a grin. It didn't help.

"You did all this… For me?" England whispered. America made a tiny nod.

"I couldn't tell… Anyone… Because that would… Kinda defeat the purpose…" He tried to chuckle, but another cough interrupted him.

"Y-You…" Fresh tears started to cascade down England's face. "Idiot…"

"Please, Arthur…" America gasped. "Please… Don't cry… I've had enough… Of crying…" England hastily wiped his tears with his wrist, nodding. America smiled in relief. "Thanks…" He shut his eyes again. "Don't be… Too sad… About this… Arthur…" he murmured. "Try… To be happy… It could… be… The only…" He coughed pathetically once more. He opened his eyes slightly and stared at the sky, a small smile on his face.

"Could I… Protect you? Was I… Finally able to… Be a hero?" he said faintly. He shuddered suddenly and closed his eyes again. He went limp as the rest of the color finally drained from his face.

Dead silence.

"Al… Alfred…?" England whispered. He tentatively reached out and shook America's shoulder gently. "Alfred!" He shook more vigorously. "Alfred!" No response. "Al…!"

Nothing.

It was like a giant waterfall was suddenly crashing down on him. There was no sound except for the chaos inside his head. He closed his eyes to keep himself from crying. "Alfred!" he screamed. His heart throbbed in his chest, pulsing painfully. He started shaking America again.

"Alfred, wake up! Please come back, damn it! Come back, I need you! I need you, I… I love you!" England wasn't even aware of what he was screaming and what he was thinking anymore, but it didn't matter. He leaned in, his face just inches from America's.

"Did you hear me?" England whispered. "Did I reach you? Please…" He was trembling, barely holding back the tears. "Please come back to me… I love you…" He closed the distance between them and tenderly, clumsily kissed America's cold, lifeless lips. As soon as they touched, England felt something – like electricity – run through his body. It felt like a reservoir of warmth was inside him.

And then something changed. He didn't know what, but he felt… Different somehow. It felt nice.

He pulled away from the kiss, confused.

What was that? As soon as the question popped into his head, he realized what had happened.

The first thing he noticed was that he was wearing a white, sleeveless tunic instead of his normal clothes. There was also a pair of two big, feathery white wings on his back, and for some reason he had a wand in his hand. His face burned in embarrassment as he tugged at the bottom of the tunic, wishing more than anything for it to be longer.

"B-Britannia… Angel…?" he murmured to himself, his confusion growing. He hadn't been Britannia Angel in ages! In fact, it had been so long, he'd actually completely forgotten about it. Why had he suddenly transformed now?

Think, England, think! He thought back to all the other times he'd transformed. What did they have in common…?

A sudden, chilling laugh brought him back to reality. He looked up and saw the Thing standing a short distance away, an arrogant, amused expression somehow conveyed by its flashing eyes. England had completely forgotten it was there.

"My, my," it said, clapping its hands together. "What a surprising turn of events." The Thing smirked and sauntered closer.

Seeing that, remembering what had happened… England was suddenly filled with rage.

It's that Thing… That monster's fault! All of this… Canada, me… America… England stood up and stepped in front of America's limp form protectively. Though it was his most embarrassing form, Britannia Angel was also his strongest. Now he might actually have a chance against that Thing!

"America… Alfred…" England set his jaw and glared straight into those cold, cocky eyes. "The road ends here," he said fiercely. "You're going down. I'm sending you straight to Hell!"

"Where do you think I come from?" the Thing hissed playfully. It laughed again. "You actually think you can beat me? Ah, this should be interesting."

"I'm not afraid of you. I'm going to destroy you." For Alfred…

"Getting cocky, eh?" It chuckled coldly. "Fool."

England ignored the comment and focused on remembering his magic. For Alfred…

For him…

As the two prepared to fight, no one noticed the faint heart beat that suddenly started to throb as a glimmer of life reentered the cold form…

...Britannia Angel is win. And yeah, sorry America. XD R&R please~