A/N: I DARE you to translate Arthur's spell :3 It'll come out in weird English though, I trust you are capable of decoding it XD

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The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. The only sounds in the area were of America's phone call to the police to pick up the criminals. The rest of the group sat scattered around the clearing, lost in their own thoughts. Most revolved around the same disease: intolerance.

It was something they had all experienced in their long lives as nations. Some people were just born with sticks up their asses, and couldn't understand different cultures. Hate crimes, racism, religious wars, they had all suffered through them. But to experience it again, personally, after such a long time, and during an age of peace; it was a bit of a slap in the face.

"Yes, they had tried to break into my home, and I've found traces of marijuana on them... they began to bicker amoungst themselves and ran off into the woods out back...I heard sounds of fighting... Yes...yes, thank you. You have a good night too." America snapped his cell phone shut, stuffing it lazily into his pocket. He stood still, trying to let some of the tension fall from his body in a tired sigh.

England watched from behind him, suppressing the concern that was rolling off of him in waves, not only for America, but everyone affected that night. It had been a horrible experience for them all, and he was sure that America was dealing with it the worst. The blonde was use to being the Hero, not feeling helpless and guilty when someone he knew was hurt.

"They'll be here in 10 minutes, we should get back to the house and stash the evidence..." Alfred suggested suddenly. It killed him to know that those boys had committed a far more serious crime than he had told that police, and they wouldn't get punished for it. They couldn't, if the police knew they had shot Feli, they'd want to take him to a hospital, and therefore blow a worldwide secret. "I just hope they were wasted enough to mess with their memories."

A spark of hope. England stepped up to the plate, finally feeling as if he were something of use for the first time that night. "I know a small spell that will alter their memories." He offered, almost shyly considering many nations didn't quite understand his magic.

Alfred gave him a sliver of a smile. "Then do your thing." He said with a small hand gesture to the heap of useless bodies.

Arthur nodded firmly, walking up to the subjects with a sudden confident heir. He studied them for a moment, before kneeling on the ground and using his finger to scratch out ancient runes in the grass. He repeated this five times around them, in a circle, until he was back where he started With satisfaction in his work, he reached into he shirt, producing a silver pentacle on a chain, something he always wore hidden, just in case. A silence filled with anticipation filled the clearing and everyone in it, the nations watching intently in suspense.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, England began to chant quietly in Latin, his words carried by the ghostly wind that danced around him. "Subjugale mutum story consummans te!" The runes etched onto the grass began an unearthly glow, the silver light leaking slowly into the circle, enveloping the unconscious bodies. It grew steadily stronger, until disappearing in a bright flash. Uneasy silence flowed through the night.

"That should do it." England concluded, slightly out of breath.

"You okay?" Alfred asked, noticing his fatigue.

"I'll be fine." Arthur waved him off. "Spells usually leave one a bit zapped of energy."

"Well then, we'd better get back to the house, check on Italy. Matthew probably already brought him into the infirmary." Alfred suggested. It had been a long night for everyone, and he was sure that after seeing that Feli was in good care, and a good cup of coffee, things would wind down.

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"Stop squirming." Germany ordered as he fastened the bandage on Feliciano's shoulder. The young man sat on the table of Alfred's infimary, his shirt cut off and tossed in the waste basket. He winced every time Ludwig adjusted the gauze, squirming in his seat.

Germany sighed, as he finished with the bandage. He let the tension of the night fall from his muscles as he ran his fingers through his slicked hair, causing it to fall out of order in some places- but he didn't care. He cared that Italy was safe.

The infirmary had been a blessing. It had just what he needed to patch the Mediterranean Nation up. Though he never feared Italy dying from the wound- nations weren't the same as humans. They couldn't be mortally wounded, unless their entire country, land and people, were destroyed. Of course, there were rumours of other ways... but no nation had ever gone that far, which honestly surprised him...

Ludwig barely noticed it when someone knocked lightly at the door. He casually turned his head to see America and the rest of the Nations who had run off after the criminals standing in the doorway. "Hey, how're you holding up, Feli?" Alfred asked as he walked in.

"Germany fixed it! He said I won't be able to do things like paint or cook on my own for a while though." Italy added in disapointment.

Ludwig shook his head. "He'll be fine. I checked up on an Italian news website. The shot resulted in a small meteor hitting the town of Feltre. No one was hurt, though there was a lot of damage." He explained.

"Good to hear." Alfred nodded. "You're welcome to stay, pretty much everyone else has gone home anyway. You guys too." He said, addressing the group at the door. "I'm gonna go down and clean up." And with that, he disappeared through the door, a few of the other nations following him offering their help.

"You did a good job." Germany barely heard Romano muttered. He sat in slight shock for a moment. Was Romano actually saying something nice to him? "Don't get me wrong Potato Bastard, I still hate your guts. But maybe, just not as much as before. I mean, you saved his life...so yeah, shut up." He finished, crossing his arms in a pout.

"Aw, Lovi, that was so nice!" Spain exclaimed, attacking Romano in a crushing bear hug.

"C-Cut it out bastard!" Lovino shouted, trying unsuccessfully to push Antonio off of him.

Germany rolled his eyes at his commrades, while Italy laughed, carefree. Ludwigs glanced over at him, a sudden thought coming to mind. "You know, you were very brave Italy."

"Huh?" Italy asked, clearly not use to hearing those words.

"You tried to stop them. It was very brave of you." Germany smiled, as much as he normally would anyway, ruffling Feliciano's hair.

"Yeah, and stupid." Romano cut in. "Christ Fratello, you scared me shitless." He huffed, something he would only admit to his brother.

"Sorry." Italy pouted.

"You should have seen him, mi amigo. Little Lovi here was like an angry little bull, running after those asnos." Spain commented, slinging an arm around Lovino's neck.

"Get off me!" Romano shouted.

"Wow, you did that for me Fratello?" Feliciano asked, his face brightening.

After Romano managed to pry Spain off of him, he returned to his usual 'piss off' attitude. "Yeah well, if anyone's gonna beat the crap out of you, it's gonna be me."

Veneziano laughed, one of the only nations able to understand 'Romanonesse' and hear that he was really just happy his brother was alright. "Thank you Fratello."

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Alfred couldn't help but notice, as he and a few others were straightening things up, that England was moving sluggishly, as if every move took just a little more effort than normally. Arthur was picking up torn streamers and the like, and stuffing them into the trash bags, but it seemed like even than was causing him to become a tad out of breath. "Hey Iggy, we're almost done here, why don't you head upstairs and get some rest? You look like crap." He suggested.

Arthur scoffed, trying vainly to hide his fatigue. "Well thank you, wanker, but I'm perfectly fine and- Hey! Put me down!" He shouted.

America, having had enough of his lame ass facade, lifted him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, heading up the stairs. "I'll be right back down guys." He called over his shoulder to those who stayed to help clean up.

"Sod off, damn American prat! Put me down!"

England continued to fight and struggle to be free of America's grasp, with no success of course, until he found himself landing on his butt on something incredibly soft- Alfred's bed. He looked up at the taller young man, slightly confused and very out of breath, considering how tired he was before. "Just sleep up here, kay? The other guest rooms are taken, so I'll probably just grab a cot or- quit looking at me like that!" Alfred couldn't help but laugh.

Arthur pouted up at him, trying his best to look menacing while fighting off the sleep that was about to overtake him. He just ended up looking like a kicked puppy sitting on his bed. "I'd punch you if I had the energy." He threatened.

"I know. Now, sleep." America smirked, poking the Briton's shoulders who, without any strength to keep himself up, fell back onto the pillows.

Arthur was about to complain, raising himself onto his elbows, only to find that Alfred had already left, shutting the door behind him. He huffed, continuing to glare at the door, as if he would burn away the wood, followed by the back of his head. Shaking his head, he realized he must be really tired if he was resorting to taking his anger out on the door with his eyes. And so, he fell back onto the bed, sinking into the mattress. Damn, America's bed was soft. It also, he noticed as he shed his outer clothing leaving only his boxers and T-shirt, smelt like Alfred- like open air, rushing water, rolling fields and never ending woods.

England allowed himself a small, relaxed smile, letting the scent wrap around him as he drifted off to sleep.

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July 4th 2012

A small meteor hits the east of Northern Italy. The majority of volunteers who travelled to help were American, Canadian and German. Death tole was none, with few were injured. Though Italy's economy did not suffer, the town was destroyed and went through complete rebuilding.

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G'night loves.