Hiya guys

This chapter is a bit gory and something... there was meant to be another warning but I can not remember it.

I apologize in advance about my poor grammar.

I also want to tell you that I reply to my reviewers via private messaging, it means that my author notes are shorter

eeerrrrrmmm

I don't own Hetalia

oh I remember, just wanted to point out that all the ghosts are famous historical ghosts and Adolf Hitler wont be making an appearance as he was dealt with by the brothers. any insane ghosts the brothers should have got rid of them. Atila was a mistake as scotty didn't do his job right.

thats it

As soon as the brothers heard the ghost call to England they all sprang into action. The two eldest dashed over to the possessed nation whereas the youngest ran to the smallest. Wales started to mutter words softly, a hardly noticeable glow spilling from his fingertips and flowing along the floor over to England.

The crowd that had surrounded the injured Brit looked up when England did and, just like the British Isles, they too sprang into action.

Everything happened at once.

Scotland disarmed the possessed Italian, but wasn't fast enough to prevent the brunette from pulling the trigger. The red head grabbed the falling weapon before it could hit the ground and aimed it at anyone that came too near.

Ireland kicked the back of Italy's knees causing the nation to fall to the ground, throwing his aim off.
Both Australia and New Zealand dived at Germany, rugby tackling the nation to the ground. New Zealand was quicker, so was the one that reached the German nation, but was also the one that got a bullet to the arm.

England's soul left his body and flew into the Italian's body, which put up little resistance as it hadn't expected to be attacked by two countries.

North jumped the last couple of feet to catch the falling Englishman's body, which went completely limp when its soul left.

Canada threw his blazer over the top of the unconscious Englishman as England's was slipping off, his wings just visible. He then stood protectively in front, to block off anyone's view of the angel.
Hong Kong held back a struggling Romano who was threatening to 'go all Mafia on those Tea Sucking Bastards'.

France noticed how all the brothers had tensed, so therefore knew that something was very wrong and came to their defence blocking any nation that got too close.

Wales started to sway as soon as England left his body. The Welshman was lending his brother some of his energy, knowing that he was going to need it - becoming a spirit took enough energy as it was, let alone being injured and having to fight.

Portugal recognised the spell that Wales was preforming, after spending so much time with his ally, and offered his support for the Welshman. A tanned hand took hold of the pale scarred (from dragon burns) hand of Wales, lending his strength as well.

"Help him!" Alistair yelled sitting on top of Italy's leg's, gun still in hand. Ireland was kneeling on the possessed nation's shoulders, neither of them caring about the looks they were getting.

Prussia straightened when he realised that the red head was talking to him, and looked down at the restrained country. Maybe having both of the brothers restraining the small country was a bit of an overkill, but Prussia wasn't going to argue - it most likely made things easier for Arthur. The ghost took a step back (he was still hovering in the air) before jumping and doing a swan dive into the Italian.

The two brothers let out a sigh of relief as the Prussian disappeared and exchanged looks, both smiling.

Everyone else around them wasn't, however. For a few pain stakingly long seconds, the conference room fell* into complete silence.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" Germany yelled once he had untangled himself from the two Oceanic nations, Australia had landed on top of New Zealand who was on top of Germany. The stern blonde's attention was quickly diverted when Australia started screaming.

"Oh God Kiwi! Someone get me a first aid kit!"

"Jack! Calm down, it's just to the arm."

"FIRST AID KIT! Bugger, don't we have one in this fucking room! What drongo decided to have a meeting room full of countries without a blooming medi kit?!"

"Artie usually has one in his briefcase. Now calm the fuck down Jack, James said it's just in the arm, that's nothing serious." Northern Ireland replied as he tried to settle England down into a chair, which was not a simple task as the blonde's body was completely limp.

Canada helpfully got the first aid kit out of the briefcase and handed it to the extremely flustered brunette, who immediately set to work tending to New Zealand's wounds.

"Alistair should have some whiskey in his, give it to James to ease the pain. Can someone fucking help me with Artie, he keeps slipping out of the fucking chair!?"

France quickly went to aid the frustrated teen, the rest of the countries were all too confused/shocked to actually do anything, including Germany. The German hadn't even realised that New Zealand had actually saved him from getting shot.

"Oui I will help you with mon cher Connor, but could you all explain what is happening?" The Frenchman asked as he grabbed hold of the Englishman's feet, and with his foot moved another chair so it was opposite and facing the chair North had tried to put England in. Francis quickly buttoned up Arthur's blazer so his now limp wings wouldn't cause it to fall off and frowned with concern at the Briton.

"Get off my fratello dammit!" Romano screeched, finding some courage as he started to struggle against Hong Kong again.

"Oh," both Scotland and Ireland exclaimed and rolled off the unconscious Italian, his usual cheery hazel eyes were wide open, a mixture of grey, green and red. The two British Isles brothers stood by the nation, giving off an aura that told the others not to come too close.

"Don't touch him for the moment, until we know that it's safe for him and for you to do so," Ireland warned as he casually brushed off some of the dust that had got onto his trousers, they were brand new as well. Scotland finally lowered the gun and put it in his back pocket, with the safety on of course. He glared at the youngest of the British Isles for telling others about his drink, but softened when he saw the Australian leaning over his brother.

The New Zealander was biting down on some material which Scotland assumed was from the Australian's sleeves. He was sweating profusely, his fists clenched as Australian used a pair of tweezers to extract the bullet.

"Fucking hell Jack, be a bit more gentle for Christ's sakes. You're not playing operation."

"I'm trying; I'm not usually the one doing this."

"Yeah I know, I'm usually the one patching you up because of all of your bloody animal bites."

"Or Mum if you're busy."

"What? But he lives on the other side of the world?"

"Yeah, but the pommie pops round every now and then and fixes me up."

"I'm not even meant to be talking to you, shut up and concentrate. You need to disinfect it first."

The Scotsman chuckled at the brotherly love, in a completely different world to everyone else, until his name was called.

"Schottland! What is going on here?"

The tallest of the brothers looked up from Australia and New Zealand, Canada was now helping as he had a bit more experience when it came to first aid, to the large number of pairs of eyes staring at him. The Scotsman glanced to the side to the eldest, who simply shrugged, Wales was too busy lending England energy with Portugal and North just gave the red head a blank look, not knowing what to do, but did offer Ireland a rude hand gesture.

Reaching into his pocket, the Scotsman pulled out a cigarette and brought it to his lips. Completely ignoring the protests from some of the other nations, Alistair lit the end and took in a deep drag. Working almost immediately, Scotland's nerves calmed by a fraction, which was enough for him to attempt to explain to the other nations.

"Ye probably won't believe me but ye better listen well as I'm not explaining it again. The lad's 'infected' which caused 'im ta not act like he normally does, which explains the shootin'." Scotland explained in a causal tone.

"What kind of shit-"

"Interrupt me again laddie and see whot will happen." Scotland gave Bulgaria a heated glare, the terrified nation side shuffled so that he was now behind an amused Romania to escape the Scotsman's wrath.

Alistair glared at the Bulgarian for a few more seconds before he carried on where he'd left off, "Wee Albion is fighting off this 'infection' and that's why the lad was injured the other day. If anyone stays 'infected' for a long time it could spell danger. So if ye know of anybody that's been acting weird, ye best tell us."

"You expect us to believe this shit, you other Tea Bastard," Romano growled, he was not in a very good mood at all. Having to come to Germany of all places and for some other nations to attack his brother - one of whom he hardly knew about - had put the Italian in a very bad mood.

"I, like, wouldn't get on Uncle Alistair's bad side if you, like, want to keep your tongue," Hong Kong warned indifferently, still keeping the Italian in a loose but effective chokehold. The Italian was able to breath, but unable to move.

"Let go of me you bastard! Help me you idiota Spain, where the fuck are you?!" Romano yelled, fighting against the Asian nation's grip. The angered brunette's words seemed to make other nations notice that Spain wasn't the only nation missing.

Austria coughed to gain the pissed off Scottish nation's attention, who was currently being held back by Ireland. The Irish nation was trying to tell him that Romano was like that with everyone, but was smiling the whole time. He was very tempted to let go.

"As much as I hate to agree with Romano, but I find your explanation highly unrealistic. You also give the impression that you are not telling us the whole story."

"Sasanna said that you all probably wouldn't believe anything we said," the ginger sighed, still not letting go of his taller brother. "You're just going to have to trust us on this."

"And why should we do that?" Turkey asked leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, Greece was currently sleeping so he could focus on the meeting. Scotland felt a new burst of anger at Turkey's words, which made it even harder for the Irish nation to hold him back.

Northern Ireland wasn't being held down though. The freckled nation started to storm over to the Turkish nation, his hands clenched into tight fists. Before Turkey knew what was happening, a fist was hurtling towards his face.

"Connor!" Canada yelled as he dived at the auburn haired teen, grabbing his waist, and they both fell to the floor. "Calm down, there's no need to get upset eh." Canada quickly got to his feet, knowing that North wouldn't be on the floor for long.

"No, I know what the bastard is thinking, he thinks we're all fucking off our trolleys. Insane. Just because people don't understand something, they think it's something crazy, nonsense. That sort of fucking thinking got Arite sent to the asylum and he's still not fucking back to his normal self,"

Connor screamed going red in the face, his outburst causing everyone to go silent. No one mentioned that time, especially with the British Isles present. It was true though, many of the nations dismissed anything England said as they believed him to be crazy, but never said anything.

"Keep the heid! We are getting nowhere. God, this would be much easier if Albion was the one explainin', he's the one who kens 'ow to talk ta all of ye." Scotland had somehow managed to calm down, probably due to Northern Ireland working himself into a state.

"Tá sé ceart go leor (it's alright), go and make sure that Sasanna is ok," Ireland reassured the youngest softly, offering him a smile. The freckled teenager looked up to his brother, frustration evident on his face. Even though he didn't want to listen to Ireland, the teen did as he was told.
Happy that North wasn't going to break something, Ireland turned his attention to the rest of the nations. "Look, if we told the whole truth you would think that we're more insane that what you already do. Don't pretend that you don't, you don't hide it well, and just so you know, yes, Sasanna does know. You need to trust us though, as we are the only ones that can fix this, whether you believe in magic or not, it's what is going to save all of your arses."

"I ken that whot 'appened to our wee brother yesterday gives ye some proof that we aren't lying. Even if ye don't believe us, ye can just humour us and tell us if ye have spotted anything odd, and keep an eye on em."

Acidic green eyes studied the conference room around him, examining their facial expressions to see whether they were going to cooperate or not. His eyes fell upon China, the two stared at each other before the old nation nodded and stood up.

"I believe what they have been saying aru. I was 'infected' at the last meeting, and it is thanks to Opium that I am not now aru."

The room was filled with murmuring, talking about how China woke up screaming during the last meeting. Maybe they should give the British Isles a chance.

"I agree. There was bad magic that surrounded China and England lifted it."

"Of course you would agree Norge, you're all into that magic stuff."

"I will set my troll on you."

"It is true big brother, that not so useless England has been protecting everyone, but most importantly you. Will you marry me now? Marry me."

"Yep, England wouldn't let his brothers come to a meeting unless it was something serious."

Romania said smiling, Bulgaria still hiding behind him. Hungary went to hit her enemy with her frying pan, but froze when she realised that what he said made sense. England did only let his brother's attend meetings when he had to.

Germany thought about what everyone had said, although it did all sound crazy, it did all sort of made sense. He did have something at home, sitting on his desk that was magic.

"I agree that England wouldn't ask for me to arrange a meeting for a joke. Even if you don't believe what has been said, has anyone seen anyone acting strangely."

"Oui, I spoke to Toni last night and he seemed different."

"He's not here as well." Seychelles pointed out. Again the nations started to talk about the absent nations. Ireland nodded thoughtfully, happy that everyone was at least giving them a chance, whether they believed them or not.

"They could be linked. America is not here and we already know that he is 'infected'." Wales said in between pants. Ireland was actually impressed that he was able to pay attention while casting the spell, maybe it had something to do with Portugal helping him.

"America is infected! That can be really bad right?" Latvia asked nervously. Canada gave Scotland a nervous glance, the red head nodded to confirm the fact that yes, America was in trouble.

"What about my fratello, he's here and he's supposedly 'infected'." Romano asked, now free from Hong Kong.

"That's why we are asking if anyone has seen anything strange for fuck's sake. The people that aren't here are most likely bloody 'infected', they didn't see why they had to come. Bet you had to drag your fucking brother here didn't you?" North asked Romano, who nodded hesitantly.

"Gut, that's somewhere to start. Let's make a list of those that are not here." Germany said as he stood in front of the white board. He picked up the black pen and wrote down America.

"Finally, were getting somewhere. We already ken that Switzerland isn't here, right lass."

"Ja."

Falling. Prussia was falling and had no idea why. As soon as he jumped into Italy's body, the Prussian found himself falling through an endless blue sky. He wouldn't find this too much if it wasn't for the fiery bits of rubble that kept flying pass him.

Large bits of destroyed building tumbled in the air, all of them ablaze. "What the fick!" The ghost exclaimed loudly, when a chunk of rubble whizzed past his cheek, a bit too close for comfort. The albino looked over his shoulder to see where the offending bit of rock went, when he turned back round, once the rock disappeared from his sight, there was a bit of stone the size of a bus hurtling towards him.

"Scheiße!"

Wham!

Something slammed into Prussia's side at such a speed, it robbed him of his breathe. It came from his side though, not in front of him where the threat had been. Was there something else coming at him from the other side?

Due to his confused state, it took Gilbert a while to notice that he had a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Crimson eyes looked down at the arms, finding that they were pale and, although rather skinny, strong. They also had bandages wrapped around them. Prussia's eyes travelled up the arms to see the Englishman holding him.

Before the Prussian could say anything, England let go of the ghost. Surprised, Prussia fell a few feet before he caught himself, remembering that he could indeed fly.

Now stable in the air, the albino looked at the blonde that had saved him. The Briton was wearing a pair of casual trousers and a plain t-shirt, something that the Englishman wouldn't normally wear to a meeting, but England did explain to Germany that it was mainly a comfort thing, just while he was healing. He did wear a blazer to look a bit smarter, but it looked to the Prussian that England had dressed in clothes that he could move easily in. Did England expect to be fighting in a meeting again?

What caught the ghost's attention though, was the magnificent white wings keeping the Englishman aloft. He could see the muscles working hard on the Brit's back, which on any other person, wouldn't exist. The halo was now floating above the nations head as well.

England really did look like an angel. An angel of war that is, seeing as the blonde was holding two swords in his hands. The albino knew from experience, that using two swords to fight could be difficult as you have to concentrate on two things whilst fighting, and it slows downs the person's movements, so was actually looking forward to see how the angel was going to use them.

"Watch where you are going Gil, you can actually get hurt here. Go and look for Italy, while I deal with the wanker will you. Protect him for the time being, I'll find you once I have dealt with this twat."

The angel's eyes never stayed on one spot for too long, but they did always managed to find their way back onto the Prussian. This repeated for a while before England started to become frustrated with the ghost. He hovered in the air with his hands on his hips, a frown etched deeply onto his face.

"Any day now Gil, I'm not going to wait around for several hours while you finally get your head together. If you have any questions, spit them out now, hopefully you'll be able to concentrate then."

Prussia stared at England dumbly, begging his mind to start working again. He could practically see the level of annoyance rising in the Englishman and he did not want to be around when England boiled over.

Just when the cogs in his brain started to turn again, Gilbert saw emerald eyes harden into pinpoints. Before Prussia could realise what was happening, the angel grabbed hold of the ghost's wrist and spun him round so that they had switched places.

Finding his back against the angel's, Gilbert span round to see an oncoming piece of debris bigger than before. The ghost found himself tensing immediately, Arthur however, was oddly relaxed. Gilbert swore he saw a wicked smirk on the Briton's face.

Crossing his blades in front of his face, England waited for the blazing projectile. As it got closer, England worked his wings harder and his gripped tightened on the hilts of his swords. There was a loud clang as the solid stone collided with the metal of the swords.

Gilbert's jaw dropped as he witnessed Arthur halting a burning rock the size of a house, without breaking a sweat. The ghost watched in awe as the angel simply kicked the building causing it to shoot away at a faster speed than it had been approaching him.

Happy that he had successfully avoided dealing with a flattened Prussia, England's frustration had toned down a fraction. He calmly faced the Prussian, his eyes darting around again before they fell onto the Prussia.

"Questions?"

"How the fick did you do that Brows? As awesome as it was, you're still injured." Prussia stared wide eyed, still finding it difficult to keep his mouth shut.

"One of my brothers is casting a spell which supplies me with some of their energy, most likely Dylan. (I'm going to suffer for it tomorrow)Also whilst I'm an angel form as well has helping me whenever I am 'suffering' it give my physical attributes a bit of a boost. I'm faster, stronger, and more agile. Now, go and find Italy but don't touch him and remember that you are a ghost, you are able to manipulate some of this place, like giving yourself a weapon. I'll find you once I've dealt with the wanker throwing the rocks."

The British angel gave the ghost a lazy salute before speeding off, cutting through the air like a bullet. The albino watched the retreating figure, slightly disappointed about not seeing Arthur fight, but quickly got over it. If he was going to be helping the island nation throughout this whole ordeal, then he most likely was going to see him fight.

Deciding that he better do what England told him to do, Prussia went in search for Italy but had no idea where the captive would be. Following his awesome instinct would probably be the best thing to do, so the albino started to fly to the left.

It didn't take long for the Prussian to find a floating island in the sky that, unlike the other bits of rock, remained perfectly still. On the island of rock were ruins of a castle. The ruins were being strangled in rusty chains that were covered in dry blood. Along the cold floor were thick vines covered in thorns, all of them leading to a giant white flower.

Getting closer to the flower, which was bigger than him, Gilbert noticed something a bit disturbing. At the base of the white petals were veins, and they seemed to be pulsing. It was only then did the ghost notice that the vines were a dark red colour instead of green.

"Mien Gott! These are veins. Verdammt! If that's Feli's, I might hurl. SO UNAWESOME!"

Arthur closed his wings quickly against the grooves of his back to drop out of the way of the fiery piece of rock. He may have free fell longer than necessary, but he couldn't help it, he loved the feeling. After plummeting a few feet, the angel snapped his wings back open and swooped upwards.
As soon as he was level again, the Brit had to barrel roll to avoid another projectile. Which the led to another, and another. Before he knew it, England was rapidly being shot at with burning pieces of rubble the size of houses.

Good, that meant he was closing in on the bugger.

Smirking at the threat quickly approaching him, England thought that the best way to find his target would be to go to the direction they were coming from. His target had also kindly provided Arthur with stepping stones to get there.

England landed on the nearest speeding blazing bit of debris, flapping his wings downward forcefully to extinguish the flames where his feet landed. Quickly bending his knees, the Englishman sprang off the stone landing on the next one further up. Springing from rock to rock, the Englishman looked like a pinball as he made his way forward.

Seeing that the fiery torpedoes were becoming more compact, Arthur's grip tightened on his swords, holding them outstretched to his side, ready to strike. Leaping off the last 'stepping stone', England found himself in an opening in the sky with a lone figure floating several feet in front of him, behind the figure was the remains of a burning city.

The angel chose not to focus on the dying city, not really wanting to find out which one it was meant to be. Ignorance was bliss after all. Instead, the blonde kept his focus on the ticked off ghost in front of him.

One word could sum up the figure, and that was grey. Everything about the ghost was grey, his skin, his hair, his eyes and clothes. England found that he couldn't place how old the being in front of him was (when it had died anyway) and as far as he could tell, was not a historical figure. A historian maybe. Yes, the more England soaked up the ghost's appearance, the more he became convinced that this ghost's occupation was a historian before he died. (He had always been good at reading people which did come in handy when he was a spy.)

"Icarus flew on wings made of wax too close to the sun, he aimed too high and burned as a result. You, you fly with wings of feathers and muscles, but you aimed higher and will burn brighter," the ghost announced with an insane giggle, raising his hands up. Parts of buildings behind him broke off and began to rise.

"When you bleed, do you bleed the blood of your people or your own? When I crush you, how much will you bleed? Do you bleed the blood of all your people or just your own? Would you bleed for the whole of the UK or just England?"

An insane glint formed in the grey ghost's eyes, which only grew as each word left his lips. He looked at the English nation as if he was the best historical find in the world, which he probably was, he was a human embodiment of a country and an angel after all.

As the ghost smiled, Arthur's patience seemed to thin. At the moment, the ghost was walking on ice, which just so happened to have a crack in it.

"You burn so brightly, I'll have to burn everyone else to see who burns brightest. Burn the world down to ashes and build on the remains."

England snapped, he knew what city the ghost was burning, but he wasn't going to acknowledge it, if he did he would get phantom pains. With a sharp flick of the wrist, one of England's swords flew out of his hand and whizzed into the shoulder of the ghost effectively pinning it to one of the flaming pieces of rubble behind it. The grey man screamed out in pain, his hand automatically went to his injured arm and attempted to pull the foreign object out so it could escape the flames.

"Since you have already merged with Italy, I don't need to give the opportunity to change. Lucky me," Arthur purred, towering over the ghost, resting his foot on the hilt of the sword using his weight to tilt the weapon. The ghost screamed as the weapon rotated in his wound, but soon merged into fits of giggles.

"I still want to see you burn," the ghost replied sweetly as the flames surrounding the two flared, engulfing the pair of them. Reacting on instinct, Arthur jumped back and patted out the flames on his clothes.

The historian withdrew the sword from his arm and his wound burned closed.

Using England's mild surprise to his advantage, the ghost lunged at the nation's heart. Catching on to the surprise attack, England moved his body to the side, avoiding the brunt of the attack, but still managed to get nipped by the blade across his chest.

Already hardened emeralds grew dark. The grey ghost started to relentlessly attack the angel, but the blonde blocked each of them with little effort. Although his powers had increased due to merging with Italy, the ghost was by no means a fighter. His attacks lacked in both the power behind them and accuracy.

England probably would have immobilised the ghost already if it wasn't for the burning bits of rock that kept flying at him. The angel had to use one hand to fend off the ghost's weak attacks and the other to deflect the rubble. (He had used magic to get another sword.)

Grinning to himself, the Englishman ducked as one whizzed at his head, smacking the ghost in the face. Taking advantage of the ghost's stunned state, England head butted the grey ghost in the face. Blood sprayed from the mad historian's nose, spluttering onto England's face.

The ghost bent over covering it's bloody nose with his hand, only to receive a knee to the gut from England. Slumping to the ground, the crazy ghost looked up at England with… adoration? Raising an eyebrow, Arthur took a hesitant half step back. This seemed to have amused the ghost as it burst into a fit of insane cackles.

Arthur had seen many crazy people, but this one seriously irked him. Spending several years in limbo, hanging around nations probably could do that to someone, but he couldn't have been completely sane before he died.

"Silly me, thinking that I could take on the mighty British Empire. You have been fighting ever since the day you were born and are not above fighting dirty, how could I win in a fist fight? Oh no, if I want to defeat you, I will have to use other ways." The insane phantom laughed again.

Two massive bits of rubble came from both sides of Arthur. Doing the splits, chest flat against the speeding debris the pair had been riding, the blonde avoided becoming a pancake.

The ghost smiled, his distraction had worked perfectly. Seeing that the angel was in the perfect position the ghost slashed down at the Englishman's exposed back.

The ghost didn't expect the Englishman to perform a windmill to get off the ground. The island nation smirked as he kicked the weapon out of the ghost's hand, it was only once he'd pushed himself back to his feet did he notice that he'd scratched his leg on the blade.

The ghost fell back onto its backside staring up at the Englishman in disbelief. The crazy historian looked at his discarded weapon that was too far out of reach, then up at the nation, still smiling.
"At least I was taken down by a nation with such a rich nation. You burned quite nicely." The ghost giggled, its eyes gazing to the still dying city.

Reaching breaking point, England stabbed the ghost in shoulder again with the discarded weapon. Picking up the other two swords, Arthur struck one into the other shoulder. The last blade, the former pirate thrusted into the ghost's heart, causing it to go limp.

Leaning in close to the still ghost, England whispered, "You're lucky that I try to spend as little time inside another nation as possible. I really wanted to play more with you."

England stepped away from the ghost and jumped off the rock that started to burn yet again. It didn't matter if the ghost would burn to a crisp, he just needed to have a bit of it left over to destroy the ghost for good. He needed to free Italy first before he could do that though, or the ghost could just keep coming back, and it could cause a lot of trouble for Italy.

Now that the ghost was currently indisposed of, there were no bits of rubble flying at him from all directions. This made finding Gilbert easy, Arthur landed next to the Prussian lightly, hardly making a noise.

"He's in there isn't he?" The Prussian asked, already knowing the answer. He could feel it, must be why England asked him to find the trapped nation, as a ghost he now felt a pull towards any of the nations. He did feel the pull around humans as well but not as strongly as he did around nations.

Placing a hand on the Prussian's shoulder, England carefully leant on the ground next to the base of the flower and muttered some words under his breath, his lips glowing a soft white. The Englishman scrunched up his face, not really liking what he had to do next, and kissed the base of the flower that was soaked in blood.

Pulling away, England wiped the red substance off his lips and visibly shuddered. He gave an apologetic look to the ghost once he noted the horrified look on the albino's face.

"It's not like I like doing that, but it's the safest way to open the blasted thing for the lad. Er, you might not like what you are going to see." He said softly, knowing full well what was about to be revealed.

Gilbert gave the blonde a puzzled look, before the petals started to peel away. Crimson eyes found themselves locked onto the flower. Although he knew he didn't want to see, Prussia found that looking away was useless.

The petals started to burn away, the ash blown away by the gentle breeze around them. With all the petals gone, Prussia got the full horrifying picture of what happens when a ghost merges with a nation. Feeling the bile rising up in his throat, Gilbert looked to the angel next to him, to make sure his mind wasn't playing a sick trick on him. From the sad look in those emerald eyes, Prussia knew he wasn't the only one seeing this, and from what England had told him earlier, England had seen this before.

There was one lone petal that was keeping the nation upright. Italy's chest was bare, giving the two a clear view of the black dagger that was plunged into his heart. Where the blade met Italy's skin was a mess of veins that started to grow up the blade like ivy on a house. The blade was slowly becoming a part of the nation. Wrapped around the Italian's feet were black vines that merged with his skin that looked as though they were crawling up his lower calf. Towards the base of the flower, the black vines started to look a darker red. Looking at how pale the Italian was, Prussia knew that the plant was sucking the blood from the small nation.

The flower was using Italy as source of food, but instead of drinking water, it was drinking blood.
Prussia's face started to turn a light shade of green.

England stepped closer to the trapped nation, being careful to not tread on the veins on the ground. The angel placed a gentle hand onto the young nation's face, sighing sadly. The same hand travelled down to the Italian's chest, where it hovered above the blade.

"Mien got! Why did this have to happen to poor Feli?! Poor cute little Feil. Fick mich (fuck me), how can you be so calm about this Brows? Fick! Verdammt Scheiße (fucking shit). Poor, poor cute Feli."

The ghost stared to pace swearing loudly, very loudly, which caused a great distraction to the angel.
"Sod it all Gilbert! I need to concentrate to do this right, and your constant swearing isn't helping. Now if you would be so kind and shut your trap, you Teutonic Wanker!"

"Ficken hell Arthur! Are all the nation's going to look like this?"

"No, they are going to look worse as they will have been merged longer, so you better suck it up. If you can't handle it, then fuck off, I don't need you freaking out. Yes it's hard, but you have to become detached, don't picture it as Feliciano. If you keep calling him cute, that's not going to help you."

"But Feli is cute, how can the awesome me not call him cute?!"

"Oh for pity's sake, why does it matter if he's cute?!"

"The awesome me likes cute things!"

That caused England to stare at the Prussian with a disbelieving gaze. Did the Prussian really just yell that at him? At a time like this? Gilbert must be really stressed out by this. If it wasn't for their current circumstances, the Brit would have burst out laughing

Looking away from the Prussian and back at the dagger, England closed his eyes. His nerves were all over the place, he had only done this twice before and this was the first time on his own. He needed to calm down, if he did this wrong he could cause serious damage to Italy and himself, both the country and the person.

"Gilbert, I really need to concentrate doing this. I don't really want to find out what happens if it goes wrong." The island nation's voice was quiet, catching the attention of the Prussian straight away. Noticing the seriousness in the nation's tone, Gilbert remained silent and sat next to the blonde.

The albino watched as the Englishman opened his eyes, the emeralds incredibly focused, and spoke softly under his breath in a language Prussia didn't understand. Arthur placed both of his hands lightly onto the Italian's chest as close to the blade as possible without touching it.

Immediately the veins started to curl in on themselves, retreating back into the Italians skin. A small smile started to spread on the ghost's face as he realised that whatever England was doing was working.

That was until black wisps of smoke whipped out of Italy's chest, latching onto England's fingers. Judging from the sharp intake of breath coming from the Englishman, whatever the whips were doing was painful.

The smoke started to curl around the blonde's hand, working its way up his arms, causing Prussia to get worried. Having no ideas as to what he should do, Prussia looked to England, only to see pure concentration, he wasn't going to let this beat him. There was a flame burning in those emeralds, one that was difficult to extinguish.

There was a grunt from the blonde and slowly the smoke started to dissolve away, until there was nothing left. The dagger dissolved into the air as well as all the veins and the remains of the flower.
Italy suddenly slumped forward, only to be caught by England. The angel slowly stood looking paler than he had earlier. It was only now that Prussia noticed the mild burns on his skin and the cut on his chest, but if the Briton wasn't going to say anything about it, then neither was he.

"Hold him for a moment please, it will make it easier for me to get rid of that wanker if I don't have to carry the lad. Oh, and I need to clean this place up as well before we leave," Arthur informed the ghost tiredly, rubbing his shoulder. Apparently the energy lending spell was starting to wear off.

Though considering how much energy he had been using, England was extremely surprised Wales had managed to hold it for so long.

"You sure Limey, you want a breather first?" Prussia asked. The blonde really looked like he should just sit down for a few minutes. He looked down at the Italian in his arms, who was already starting to get colour back in his cheeks.

"No, I want to get this all over and done with, the longer I stay out of my body, the more tiring it is mentally," the angel replied as he jumped up in the air, before flying off to where he'd left the insane ghost.

"So far we have made list of countries that are missing, there are at least fifteen of them. Now would be a good time to take a break, I expect everyone to be back here in ten minutes," Germany instructed, still standing in front of the white board.

The countries started to talk quietly amongst themselves all of them getting up from their seats and heading to the door. All except those who'd been involved in the previous events surrounding Italy's possession.

Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Northern Ireland were crowding around England, while Scotland, Ireland, France were hovering around Italy, Hong Kong was still guarding Romano. All of the nations stopped though when two nations twitched.

Italy looked as if he was fighting off a bad dream, whereas England took in a sharp intake of air, bolting upright, scaring all the nations that were around him. Slowly Italy's eyes opened fully, blinking a few time rather lethargically. The auburn haired nation swallowed thickly, looking both scared and curious at the nations staring down at him from above.

"Ve?"

Yeah I was mean to Italy

I'm a bit disappointed about how the fight turned out, but writing one in the air is pain in the arse.

I don't know why it went so gross but it did. Sorry.

right this story will be on a short break as i am putting it aside for a week so I can write the next chapter to national Geographic, country style. it's been over 2 months since I updated it. It will only be 2 weeks and the next one will be a bit of a filler so I'm sorry. don't hate me

FANFIC STOP PLAYING AROUND WITH MY PARAGRAPHS!

any way see you all later and review and stuff