I'm sooo sorry guys. Rosey and I were busy last weekend and that is when she usually edits for me, also I still have laptop problems

England may seem a bit OCC in this chap, I like to think that when stressed or upset, he will make jokes to make light of the situation. I do the same, when watching a sad film I will purposely find something funny so I wont cry (I usually do any way as I am a wuss with that kind of stuff) So there is a bit of a pre warning, I'm not sure how I actually feel about this chapter...

Warning: my grammar sucks, a bit gross and a fake PRUK moment. I have warned you in advance so no killing me please (hide behinds a confused Scotland)

When England walked into the room, he was slightly alarmed to find it stripped of the hero posters that normally covered the walls and Scotland scowling at the teen laying on the bed. Tony had waltzed past England and started to glare at the Scottish nation, apparently there was someone the alien disliked even more than England.

Sensing the tension building between the Scotsman and the alien, Matthew decided he should step between the two and addressed his former caretaker, "Uncle Dylan said you'd explain everything once you got here, Leon texted me most of it though. He said it would save you some time.

"He told me that I'm meant to be protecting you from ghosts that could take over your body while your soul enters Alfred's? Also that there would be a ghost tagging along with you and I'm not meant to hurt that one? Is that it, eh?"

Tearing his gaze away from Tony, Alistair nodded at the Canadian and looked over to the Prussian. Arthur seemed to have the same thought as his brother as he also looked at Gilbert and then back to the Canadian.

"Yes, that's practically everything. That was very considerate of Leon to do so, though I suspect that he is already bored and will probably be texting everyone. The lad is right about the ghost aiding me. It might be a bit of a shock who it is."

"I think it will be a shock to see a ghost, no matter who it is. Someone I know then, eh?" Canada tilted his head to the side curiously, he was a bit nervous about seeing a ghost, a dead person, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

England turned round completely to see a relaxed Prussia leaning against the wall. Judging by his expression, the ghost actually seemed to be looking forward to someone else being able to see him. Seeing the look on the Prussian's face, it was clear to the Englishman that he didn't need to ask if he was ready.

Alistair, coming to the same conclusion, stood up and made his way to America's bedside. The Scotsman started to mutter some words and a blue light spilled from his lips like a waterfall, pooling onto the bed. The liquid-like magic flowed off the bed and onto the ground, creating small ripples that grew in size. The rippling waves of magic stopped once they had reached their size limit, leaving a faint blue outline around the nations present, Prussia just outside.

Lavender eyes sparkled in awe at the display of magic, the Canadian always loved seeing his family perform it. He easily guessed what the spell did, but wished he had a better understanding of it. England had tried to teach him a few small spells, which he could do, but he wasn't really able to do anything tricky. Maybe if he kept working at it, one day he would also gain the sight like a few of the other nations, although those that had it were born with it.

Prussia couldn't help but grin to himself as he watched Scotland perform magic. He studied it carefully and noticed that Alistair's seemed to have a different texture to England's. The Scotsman's magic seemed to be heavier and more fluid than the Englishman's, Arthur's appeared lighter and more free.

Tony seemed mildly impressed with the whole display but did not show it. The grey creature just continued to stare at the redhead.

"You are going to have to step into the perimeter Duckie, Matthew still can't see or hear you when you're outside it," England told the Prussian with a roll of his eyes but a smile on his face. The Brit crossed his arms and looked at the ghost expectantly, to which the albino replied by smirking and stepping forward.

Lavender eyes went wide as Prussia stepped through the barrier. The Canadian's mind shut itself down as it tried to process who was currently standing in front of him. The completely vacant look on Canada's face was enough to make both Prussia and Scotland laugh.

"I think the laddie is broke Albion."

"Mein awesomeness was just too much for him to handle."

The pair leant on each other for support as they laughed at the Canadian, while Tony poked the shocked teen's leg. England gave the other blonde a sympathetic smile and patted Canada gently on the shoulder. The gesture appeared to bring Matthew back to the present as he looked to the English nation next to him and blinked.

"Prussia has been the one living with you? For how long, eh?"

"Since mein funeral." Prussia had managed to stop laughing long enough to answer the shocked nation. They needed to sort America out so it was probably best to speed everything up.

"Oh… Well it's good to see you again, I didn't know nations could come back as ghosts."

"They usually don't but it seems that Gilbert has some sort of unfinished business, although I'm quite sure he doesn't know what it's meant to be," England explained, looking to Scotland to see if he had any better idea but the elder just shrugged.

Prussia wrinkled his nose as he thought of what his supposedly unfinished business was, only to find that England was right. He didn't have the faintest idea what it could be, probably something awesome though.

"Fucking Limey, move your ass and save Alfred," Tony snapped, apparently he didn't care much about the confused state Canada was in.

"Bugger off Tony, I'm not going to jump into Alfred's body while my 'son' is in a state of shock. He will be in no shape to face any ghosts," the Brit snapped back, causing the alien to glare at him. Scotland, however, seemed to agree with Tony to a certain degree, as he sat down in the only chair in the room, muttered a few words and left his body.

England watched his brother with mild surprise as his soul entered the American, his body going slack. If possible, Matthew's eyes grew wider as he saw a translucent Scotland disappear into his brother. The Canadian blinked and swallowed hard.

"I'll be fine Arthur, you can explain things to me more once you save Alfred. Be careful eh," the younger blonde reassured his old guardian with a shy smile, glancing at the alien next to him. England studied the younger nation's face for a while before he decided that Canada was right. With a nod, Arthur's soul left his body and dived into Alfred's.

"Gott Birdie, stop randomly doing that, at least sit down before hand," Prussia grumbled as he caught the English nation before he fell to the floor. The ghost dragged England next to America's bed and gently placed the nation flat on the ground. Once England was safely on the ground, Prussia stood up and clapped his hands, striding over to America.

"See you later, so you can give me some for your awesome maple syrup." Flashing Canada a grin, the ghost went to dive in when Canada called out to stop him. Halting, Prussia faced the blonde and waited for him to speak.

"Look after him please, both of them. They are both stubborn and will fight past their limits," Matthew pleaded, only to receive a thumbs up and grin combo from the albino.

"Relax, I will help them with mein awesomeness. And believe me I know just how stur (stubborn) the bruders can be. Cheerio." The ghost smirked as he dived into the American, leaving behind a smiling Canada and a pissed off Tony.

BOOM!

"STAY DOWN!"

Prussia felt someone press his head down as soon as he entered America's mind and, looking up, found it to be England, although he didn't really need to look to know. The angel was crouching up against a mud wall reinforced with planks of wood.

From this little snippet alone, Prussia could tell where their new battlefield was. He didn't need to smell the scent of rotting, burning flesh or feel the cold soggy floor beneath him. He could hear guns firing and bombs going off, and could practically taste the blood in the air.

Crimson eyes stared up at the blonde, who was peeking over the of the trench, only to have a bullet whizz past his head. Ducking back down, the English nation sighed and looked to his side where his brother kneeling, a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"We are going to need some head protection."

"Now is not the time nor place ta be doing that sort of thing wee brother," Scotland smirked and Prussia bit his lip trying not to laugh, he was going to say 'that's what she said', but decided against it. It seemed that Alistair didn't care about the glare being sent his way.

"You're as bad as each other. Don't give me that look Gil, I know you were going to say something. I suggest that you get a helmet though, unless you want a hole in your head. Not that anything's likely to actually hit your brain as it's too small a target." Although England spoke with a serious expression on his face, his eyes held some amusement. The blonde placed a hand on his head and, muttering some words, a helmet appeared; Scotland did the same, before summoning another one to his hands which he threw at the Prussian.

"Danke," the ghost muttered as he put the helmet on his head and peeked over the top of the trench. A barren land soiled by blood and mangled bodies came into view, No Man's Land. He could see that going straight over would be suicide, but that is where he could feel America's presence.

"He's over there isn't he?" England murmured, barely above a whisper, his emerald eyes trained on the other side of the smoking field. The albino didn't feel the need to reply, he could tell the blonde already knew the answer. Instead he looked to the elder Kirkland, who just so happened to be sneaking deeper into trenches.

Deciding that it was best to follow the Scotsman, Prussia went after the redhead, tapping England on the shoulder as he passed. The English nation stopped glaring at the other side of No Man's Land and watched the retreating pair for a moment. Deciding that it was better to keep moving rather than just staying put, England quickly followed the two before they vanished, wielding an assault rifle.

"Wait a sec laddie, there's somethin' up ahead," Alistair spoke in a hushed tone and eased around the corner. Prussia watched the Scotsman, his gun at the ready, with England's back against his own, making sure no one could sneak up on them from behind.

The albino felt himself tense as he waited for the redhead to return. He hadn't heard any swearing from the Scotsman, but he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Foxy hasn't come back yet," he stated quietly, slowly edging to the corner Scotland had disappeared round. Receiving a tug on his elbow, Gilbert halted knowing that was Arthur telling him to stay put.

"I'm assuming that 'Foxy' is Alistair, why do you feel the need to give everyone a nickname? And why a fox of all things? I'm getting off topic, don't worry about him, he is just scouting ahead a bit, you'll hear if he gets into any trouble."

Relaxing a fraction, Prussia cracked a smile. "Are you jealous that it's not just you getting the nicknames Birdie? Your bruder reminds me of a fox, sly and cunning."

"I thought I was the only one in your life Duckie! I've had enough of you seeing other animals behind my back, we are through!" England forced out a fake sob, catching the Prussian off guard. He really did not expect the Englishman to be joking with him in a war zone.

"I can explain Birdie, those other animals meant nothing to me. Yeah, they have fur, but you can fly," he replied having decided that he might as well play along while they waited for Alistair to return, trying hard not to laugh. He figured that this was normal for the Englishman, they were said to have a weird sense of humour and he did vaguely remember England making a few jokes the other times he'd fought with him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Prussia found that the Brit was still constantly looking for any upcoming threats, but had a grin on his face. Sensing the Prussian's gaze, the Englishman put on a hurt expression and fake tears started swell up in his eyes.

"Is that the only reason you're with me? My wings? What about me Duckie? What about who I am?"

Slightly surprised by how much the English nation seemed to be putting into his role, Gilbert had to think for a few seconds for a comeback.

"I love you Birdie, all of you. Entschuldigung (sorry) that I didn't realise what I had until now. The others, they just made me realise how special you really are Birdie, and I can't bear to lose you. Can you ever forgive me?" The Prussian spoke as if he deeply meant those words, wiping away a fake tear with his thumb.

The pair stared at each other for a moment, as if frozen in time. Emerald eyes searched crimson as the Englishman leant in close to the Prussian, their noses almost touching. "You're still a man whore."

It was at this point that the pair burst into laughter, Prussia struggling to breathe, whereas England went completely red in the face. That was until they heard a cough from behind them. The pair slowly turned round to see a grinning Scotsman, looking very fox-like.

"Had ye fun? There are shadow clones, many of 'em by the look of it. This trench is also a maze, but meanders round to the other side of No Man's Land. You want ta go now, or do ye want ta pretend that ye are in one of the Yank's films?"

The Scottish nation was a bit surprised to receive a sheepish smile from his brother, Prussia he'd expected it from. He knew that his brother joked when fighting, it was Arthur's way of detaching himself from wars - all of the brothers had their own method for doing so - so he wasn't quite sure why his brother felt guilty about being caught. Most probably due to how he was joking.

"Shadow clones? Like Naruto?"

"Whot?"

"Just ignore him, let's get going." England started to stalk round the corner Scotland had previously gone round, sticking to the shadows. With a roll of his eyes, Scotland begrudgingly followed his brother, gun raised, and with Prussia close behind.

Slowing down, England silently moved towards the dark figure of a solider, being careful to avoid the mangled bodies that scattered the ground. Taking a knife that was strapped to his leg, the blonde sprung up behind the shadow and, with one hand covering its mouth, slit its throat. The shadow made a gurgling noise as it crumpled to the ground.

The blonde didn't hesitate before he went to his next target, but came to a halt when he spotted four of them. Sinking further into the shadows, Arthur waited for his companions. The eldest Kirkland gave the younger a feral grin as he waved two knives in front of the blonde's face and crept closer to the two shadows in the middle.

Prussia understood the scenario and went for the figure on the right, whilst England went for the left. Like shadows themselves, the trio rose up behind their unsuspecting targets. Simultaneously, Prussia and England both slit the figures' throats and Scotland drove his daggers into the temples of his targets. All four of the clones collapsed to the ground.

Scotland decided to take point again and went deeper into the trenches. Prussia gestured with his gun for England to go next while he took the rear. The English nation smirked and crept past the Prussianstaying close to the ground.

"Try not to stare at my arse too much Duckie, the point of taking rear is to keep a lookout, not to ogle at mine."

This automatically made Gilbert glance down at the nation's rear end, only to notice that the Brit was putting a bit more emphasis in wiggling his hips. Smiling to himself, the Prussian followed. "I just can't help myself Birdie."

"Ye all ken that my arse is the best, that's why ye let me take point." Scotland's voice came through the earpiece, England could just tell his brother was wiggling his eyebrows as he spoke. He did expect this though, Alistair was friends with the frog after all.

"Not now Foxy, Birdie is here." Prussia's voice came in reply through the earpiece. England sighed as he looked over his shoulder to see the albino giving a fake guilty look. He frowned when his brother's voice piped up again, apparently they were going to use his spy equipment just to fake flirt.

"It's about time he knew about us."

The angel shook his head, they shouldn't be doing this really, he shouldn't be. He needed to save America. A stab of guilt plunged into his stomach as he thought about the condition they were going to find the young nation in.

A lump formed in his throat as his imagination started to picture the state they would find the boy in. He was going to be worse off than Italy and not necessarily in a flower, Italy was relatively innocent so that was most likely what the flower was for. America would probably be something different.

Suddenly the walls of his throat started to close in, his breath coming in quick pants. He was having a panic attack, in a trench, inside another nation's mind of all places. The screams of men dying and the booms of cannons firing intensified, becoming deafening. He felt like he was trapped in a room filling up with smoke, smoke that weighed like lead crashing down on top of him.

The smoke started to thin as voices reached him.

"See, this is why I didn't want Birdie to know about the awesome me and you."

"Then ye should do a better job of keeping ye dick in ye pants."

"Hey, I'm not the only one to blame for this."

"Aye, but ye are the one that went behind my brother's back."

"Well you're the one that got together with your bruder's mate."

"Ye are the one that went with ye mate's brother."

"You do know that the awesome me isn't actually with your bruder, right?"

"Aye."

"Just checking... I just wanted to see if Birdie had anything else in common with you other than your eyebrows. It's a shame that you don't have the same awesome skills."

The two came to a stop once they succeeded in their task - the blonde had started to laugh, his worries pushed behind a barrier for now. His breathing was now even, no longer feeling as if he was being crushed. England could now focus on the task at hand.

"I think you took the joke a bit too far there, my arse is still better though," the blonde laughed. He wasn't quite sure how something funny was able to stop him from having a panic attack, but it always did. It was a good thing that his brother and friend knew this, it's hard to scream while laughing after all.

"Feeling better now Limey?"

"Quite, but I would feel much better if we got a move on and got out of this warzone of a mind," he replied to the ghost as he moved to the front, having decided to take point now. "Of course that doesn't mean you have to be torn away from the pleasure of seeing my backside." The Briton joked as he crept forward.

Alistair scrunched up his nose as if he smelt something horrible and looked back to Gilbert, "After ye laddie, I don't want ta look at my wee brothers arse after that. Thanks for that by the way, I dinnae really fancy havin' ta drag a shutdown Albion through this muddy trench."

"Mach dir keine Sorgen (don't worry) I'll save you from his unawesome arse, and you can gaze at the awesomeness that is mine. I made it my duty to help Birdie, including stopping him from having panic attacks, which I have done a few times before. Does he usually have them?"

"No, I don't. You just give me reason to. Now hurry up."

"I keep forgetting we have these things in."

"I mean it, there are too many up ahead to take out without one of the others noticing. We are no longer going in stealth mode, starting from… now."

Bang!

"Oi, no starting a battle without me wee brother!" the Scotsman roared as he gave up staying in a formation and just ran *in the direction his brother had vanished, whilst keeping his head down. Prussia reacted slightly faster than the redhead, and sprinted to where England had gone, remembering to duck when a bullet flew past his head.

The two thundered round the corner to see the angel leaning against a mound of dead bodies. It wasn't very clear where they had come from, but all present felt that it was best not to try and find out.

The blonde took no notice of the new arrivals as he peered around the side of his barrier and fired multiple shots, all but one hitting their target. He then ducked back behind his barrier and took several deep breaths, gun held against his chest, before he sprung over the mound.

Running in a zigzag, the thick mud doing nothing to slow him down, England fired his gun and jumped onto the back of one shadow, driving a dagger into the back of the shadow's skull. Not even hesitating, the blond leapt back onto his feet and rammed the butt of his gun into the temple of another one of the shadows.

Spinning around, he then shot one in the leg and then grabbed it from behind. Using the shadow as a shield, his riffle morphing into a pistol, England started to shoot the clones, gradually making his way forward.

Not wanting his brother to have all the glory, Scotland dashed straight past the blonde firing a machine gun. The redhead roared as he came closer to the heard of shadow clones, his moves being somewhat reckless but extremely effective.

Prussia felt the need to provide the Scotsman with some sort of cover fire as he dived into the tens of shadows. He too ran into crowd but held back from where the redhead was, so he could still see the blonde as well as Scotland. He meant it when he said he was going to protect England, even though the Brit could take care of himself.

England had disposed of his meat shield and was now firing at any shadow that got close to either Prussia or Scotland, being careful not to hit them - which was rather hard as they insisted on not staying still.

Alistair seemed to have discarded his gun and decided that he wanted the shadows' death to be dealt by his own hands. The redhead ducked as a shadow lunged at him with the dagger on the end if its gun. Elbowing the shadow in the gut, Scotland took the clone's doubled over position to his advantage and brought his knee into its face. Still not being done, Scotland kicked the clone in the neck, snapping it in half.

Prussia felt mildly uneasy of the Scotsman, and that's coming from him - a nation who'd been in many wars and was raised by knights. The Prussian shot England a little concerned look before he looked back to the Scotsman, who now seemed to be playing around with his opponents.

"Oh whot's that on ye face?" The redhead faked his curiosity at one of the shadow's appearance. The question apparently threw off the shadow as it halted its attack and stared at the Scottish nation. The Scotsman cackled as he slammed his fist into the shadow's nose.

"It was pain." The cackling only grew louder as he raised his gun to the shadow's face and pulled the trigger. "Don't worry, I got it for ye."

The English nation groaned at his brother and gave Prussia a sympathetic smile. "He is a bit of a sadistic bugger when fighting. Great if he is on your side, but a pain in the arse if you are fighting against him. He doesn't think of his actions when in a war, it's like a defence mechanism. The fight will be a bit foggy to him later. Be glad that you are not with Dylan as he tends to sing, I merely joke or talk to myself. We all have different ways of coping with war, I'm not sure what yours is but my family have always been rather odd."

"He's not going to attack you or the awesome me is he?" The Prussian gave England a side glance, not looking at his target as he shot a shadow in the head. Maniacal laughter caused Prussia to peek at Scotland, only to see that the redhead had changed his shotgun into a mace and was spinning it wildly above his head.

"He won't hurt you. If I was to step in front of him right know, he would come to a halt and come out of his state. He is also furiously protective of anyone fighting on the same side as him, so you are perfectly safe. I always feel more at ease actually when we are fighting on the same side, if there was one person you want as an ally that would be Alistair.

"Also he can still hear you through the earpieces you know," England chuckled as he disarmed a shadow and front kicked it in the stomach, hard enough for the clone to spit out a sticky liquid. The blonde then brought down the butt of his gun into the back of the clone's head making a sickening crunch.

Allowing England's words to sink in, Prussia didn't focus all that much on the opponent he was currently fighting and was only blocking, its attacks rather than countering it. Snapping out of his deep thought, the albino grabbed hold of the barrel of his opponent's gun and pushed it forward, ramming the gun into its owner's face. Using the shadow's stunned state to his advantage, Prussia grabbed the gun out of the clone's hands and killed it with its own weapon.

Rolling across the ground, Prussia narrowly avoided getting hit in the head by a mace. The albino did wonder how the Scotsman was able to swing that thing around in such a confined space, considering everyone else was avoiding shooting each other in fear of where the stray bullets might end up. The clones and nations had reverted to mainly hand to hand combat, but then there was Scotland swinging his weapon around.

All of them had gained wounds due to the close quarters combat, but they were all too focused on the fight to pay any attention to them. Prussia had a few busies littered over his body like the others and a small graze on his left check. England was fairing incredibly well despite still being injured, his speed while in angel form being the main reason for this. The angel had a spilt lip from a punch he'd received to the face, but that was it. Scotland had a managed to get a cut above his eyebrow, causing blood to travel down his face, making him look even more manic.

"Don't worry, he has very good control of that thing. He wouldn't have hit you, it would have been close, but it wouldn't have hit you," the blonde reassured the albino after he headbutted an approaching shadow that was about to stab him. The ghost gave the angel a disbelieving look as he right hooked another shadow, before glancing over to the Scotsman, only to see that he did have a lot of control over the weapon.

"Ow! Fucking wanker of an asshat!"

The angel's exclamation caused Scotland to snap out of his murderous rampage and to look over to his brother, concern reflecting in his acidic eyes. Gilbert, being closer to the blonde, dashed over to see what the injury was, slicing the shadows down with a sword as he passed them.

Upon reaching the Englishman, the Prussian found the Englishman frowning intently at his finger. Scotland made his way over to his brother only to see the same thing as Prussia and rolled his eyes. Seeing that no real harm had come to his brother, the Scotsman began his onslaught on the shadow clones yet again.

"Bloody splinter. I can't get the damn thing out and I bet it will get infected. Why did I not bring any bloody tweezers with me?"

Prussia raised an eyebrow at the Brit's apparent tragedy and went back to fighting, only to find that Scotland had dealt with the reaming shadows and that there were a lot flames lingering on the ground.

The redhead seemed to have now calmed down completely as there was no longer anyone on the opposing side, though the sounds of a warzone still roared in the background. The elder Kirkland looked at the pair and shook his head as if fighting off tiredness. Acidic eyes scanned the ghost then to the 'troubled' angel and couldn't help but laugh.

"He can 'andle a stab ta the stomach but whines about a splinter like a sissy." The Scotsman only laughed harder when he received a glare from the blonde. Catching his breath, the Scot walked away from the pair and travelled even deeper into the trench. The Prussian sighed as he watched the Englishman pout at his finger and tugged at the smaller nation's elbow.

Frowning, England followed Prussia he went after Scotland, muttering something about dealing with this ghost so he could tend to his finger. Prussia fought the urge to hit the blonde round the head for being a baby, but thought about how the splinter was keeping England distracted from having to free America. Thinking about it, Prussia was pretty sure that was why the angel was making such a fuss over nothing.

The whining stopped as soon as a large building came into view. It looked out of place considering here it was a huge metal aircraft hangar right next to No Man's Land, completely untouched by the war going on around it.

Arthur's body tensed as he knew what was coming next, he fought the urge to panic and swallowed. Pretending that he didn't notice how dry his throat was, England acted as though he was completely unaffected.

"Idiot Yank is always historically inaccurate." The blonde put on a fairly good show of rolling his eyes and putting on an annoyed façade, but the elder Kirkland could see how England's skin was a shade lighter.

Crimson eyes studied the steel doors closely, as if challenging them to open. He could feel it, America was in there. The pull that tugged at his chest though felt stronger than it had with Italy, from what Scotland had told him before, it meant that America was more vulnerable, weaker.

The Scotsman took the lead and walked up to the doors, gun at the ready. The tallest rested his back up against steel and looked to his brother, telling him to get ready. Nodding to the redhead, England tapped Prussia on the shoulder and pointed for him to go to the other side of the door.

The albino did as ordered and mirrored Scotland's actions, giving the blonde a curious look. The Prussian watched as the angel held his hands to his sides, palms facing the ground and exhaled. Emerald eyes snapping open, England brought his hands to his chest and performed a roundhouse kick. Purple shock waves travelled through the air, originating from the Englishman's leg and crashed into the steel door, causing the metal to burst into small pieces.

"Terribly sorry about that but I left my keys in my other suit," the English nation declared with a smirk, striding into the hangar. Prussia went to go in after the blonde but stopped when Scotland told him not to through the earpiece. The redhead held up a finger to the Prussian, then pointed to the side of the hangar. It was then that Prussia understood, England was being the distraction.

Seeing that the Prussian now understood, Scotland began to make his way towards the back of the hangar. Once there he placed a hand onto the cool metal and muttered some words. Tiny flames flickered from his fingertips and clung onto the wall. The Scotsman stood back and admired his work as the flames started to melt away the steel, making an entrance for the Prussian and himself.

The flames were halfway through their task when Gilbert joined Alistair in watching the spell. It was strangely relaxing to watch, and interesting to Alistair, but then again he had always been drawn to fire.

Once the hole was big enough the flames died and Scotland didn't even hesitate before he entered the room. The Prussian followed after him, being careful not to touch the edge of the metal just in case it was still hot. The ghost almost stumbled back when he was met with a dome made of barbed wire, the usually silver metal stained red.

America was in there, the Prussian could feel it. Judging by the look of Alistair's face, he also knew. The Scotsman's face was scrunched up in disgust as he backed away from the blood that was starting to leak from the metal prison. Prussia watched as Alistair left those acidic eyes and was replaced by Scotland, the country that has been in many wars.

Deciding that it was best to act quicker than the war fuelled Scotland, Prussia quickly snuck round the barbed wire to see England fight a ghost the same large build of the Shadows earlier.

The ghost was the same size as Denmark, but even stockier making the Brit look tiny in comparison. The spectre wore a military uniform, but was covered in so much grime it was hard to distinguish where he was from. He had dark brown hair that was very short and matching eyes. His eyes held utter hatred towards the Englishman, which burned as the ghost swung his arm at the Brit.

Not that England's size put him at a disadvantage as the blonde nation made up for it with his speed. The angel ducked under the gigantic ghost's arm as it threw a punch and grabbed hold of its wrist. In one swift move, England flipped the ghost over and onto the ground.

The ghost roared in frustration and the scenery began to change. Cannons rose from the ground, a dozen of them all aiming at the blonde. This didn't seem to faze the angel though, he actually smirked and taunted the ghost.

"So many guns, I think that someone is compensating for something."

That must have tipped the ghost over the edge, as all the cannons fired at the Brit. Gilbert dived at the blonde as soon as he heard the cocky tone escape the Englishman's lips. Whenever England said something in that tone, especially accompanied with that smile, you knew someone was going to snap.

Grabbing hold of the angel's waist, Gilbert flew up into the air, where he stayed. The pair felt the heat of the blasts rise up and engulf them. Hearing a gasp from the nation still in his grip, Prussia looked down to see the angel struggling to breath due to the heat.

Thinking back to what the Scotsman had taught him earlier about also being able to manipulate the mind they were in, Prussia concentrated. The temperature around the pair dropped, making it easier for the Brit to breathe again, and Gilbert allowed himself a small victory laugh.

A click of a gun caused the Prussian to look down at the ground where he saw the ghost aiming at the floating pair. Scanning his surroundings desperately thinking what to do, he didn't notice how calm the blonde was in his arms.

"Night night laddie," Scotland purred in the ghost's ear as he stabbed the ghost in the back and through the heart with a rusty sword. The ghost slumped and then fell to the floor with a thump. The wicked grin on the Scotsman's face slowly melted away, turning into a mildly concerned look, the elder Kirkland looked up at the pair.

"Thank you Gil, but would you be so kind as to let me go, I sort of need to free a certain Yank. You didn't need to grab me by the way, in case you forgot, I can fly myself, but thank you anyway," the blonde asked, sounding bored.

Realising he no longer needed to hold the angel, the Prussian let go. Spreading his wings, the blonde glided* over to the dome of spiteful metal where he hovered, looking down to his brother.

"Ye ready lad?" the Scotsman asked, stepping over the still ghost, and made his way over to the base of the dome. A few seconds passed before the Englishman gave his brother a stiff nod. Truth be told, he wasn't ready and probably never would be, but he needed to do this.

Prussia watched the two brothers recite a spell and place their lips on the dome, both of them being careful not to cut themselves on the barbs. The metal flashed a deep red before the barbed wire started to slither away to reveal America.

There was a loud gasp followed by the sound of choking as England's body shut down causing him to fall out the air. Prussia, who was focusing more on the Englishman rather than the American, dived though the air to catch the falling angel.

Scotland didn't appear to notice his brother's state, as he was experiencing something similar. The redhead stared at the sight before him. His skin had turned extremely pale and his mouth hung open. The Scotsman felt like throwing up. At some point, his mind went back to his little brother, wondering how he was fairing if he himself was disturbed by the image but couldn't get his body to act.

Still not looking at the American behind him, Gilbert held Arthur up in front of him, staring the angel in the eyes. The nation looked completely lost. Prussia knew that this was going to be a blow to the Englishman, that's why he watched the blonde rather than seeing the state of the superpower. If he saw what had caused Arthur to mentally shut down, then he would most likely be in the same state and there would be no one to help the angel.

"Come on Birdie, look at the awesome me. Remember what you said to me when we were in Feli's mind? You told me not to get emotionally attached, don't let it bother you Arthur. Come on you're the best at putting on that indifferent crap." The albino spoke gently, smiling lightly at the blonde, and gave the angel's shoulders a gentle squeeze. His smile grew a fraction as England's glazed eyes returned to normal and the Brit started to breathe again, making the Prussian realise only then that the angel had stopped.

"Gil...I, I-It's... Gil I d-don- Alba?" Arthur managed to stutter. He couldn't do anything yet, his brain wasn't allowing him to think properly, it was too busy engraving the image of Alfred into his mind. His eyes flickered over to his brother for help, only to find it was a lost cause.

Children's toys littered the ground, all of them damaged in some way. There were teddy bears with missing limbs and missing stuffing; action figures with missing parts, their faces consorted as if they had melted; and tens of wooden soldiers, all of them with a bullet hole in the chest. Some of the toys were aflame, whilst others were still smoking, but all of them were drenched in blood.

In the centre of the toys was a cross. It stood fifteen feet tall and was made out of items associated with war. Different makes of guns over the years were melted together, bomb parts, dog tags, uniforms, plane parts, bullets. These items all made up the cross America was impaled onto.

The teen hung limply by his hands, blood pouring from around the daggers that were keeping him there, spilling onto the floor. His feet were bare and also faced the same treatment as his hands. Coiling tightly around the American was more the barbed wire, completely stained red.

The barbed wire was so imbedded into his skin that it looked like it was part of him as his wounds attempted to heal. The wire only coiled tighter whenever the wounds started to close, causing the American to bleed even more.

On top of the teen's used to be wheat coloured hair, was a crown of wire that cut into the American's skin. Blood poured from the wounds on his head and painted his sun kissed skin red. The boy's mouth was gagged, his eyes blindfolded.

What appeared to be veins were wrapped all around the cross, pulsating with red while under his skin America's own stood out, almost black in colour. To make the picture complete, the American was also wearing his uniform from the revolutionary war, the blue fabric torn and stained red.

"Just thought I'd, like, let you know that Uncle Dylan's team have dealt with their first ghost. There was only a few minor injuries, nothing, like, bad, just a few cuts and bruises."

The angel took a timid step back as America's blood nearly touched his feet. Still refusing to look at the American, Prussia focused on England, trying to get him to face this.

"Come on Birdie, the sooner you deal with this the sooner Alfred will be free. You saw how quickly Feli got better, well Alfred is stronger. Arthur, here is your chance to show your brother up by being awesome, he is still staring like a rabbit caught in headlights. You don't want to be behind the sheep shagger forever do you?" Prussia's voice held humour to it, knowing that was one of the quickest ways to get to the English nation. He could call him a girl, but considering the situation, he didn't fancy dealing with an insanely angry English nation.

Prussia cheered internally when England's eyes actually focused on him, instead of staring at the American.

The angel took in a deep breath and walked around the Prussian and over to his brother. Placing a hand on the Scotsman's shoulder, England succeeded in snapping his brother out of his shock. The two exchanged looks and set to work.

Scotland did a quick spell, allowing him to hover in front of the American's chest so he was level with the dagger. England opened his wings and fluttered up to join his brother and placed his hands on the right side of the American's chest, Scotland on the left. Both of them avoiding the barbed wired that was tightly wrapped around the dagger. Arthur decided against looking at the dagger, half of which had Alfred's skin growing up it.

The two Kirkland's faces grew focused as they performed the spell, both of them refusing to look at the American, or let themselves be bothered that America's blood was covering their hands. The skin started to retreat away from the dagger, and slowly the blade eased its way out of the nation's chest. Scotland didn't fail to notice the shadowy wisps that licked England's fingers, which shouldn't happen with two of them performing the spell. He would have to discuss that with Ireland later.

The cross America was attached to dissolved into the air causing the teen to drop. Prussia caught the nation, having got over the shock of how the nation actually looked - he'd turned around when England went to his brother.

Unconsciously Prussia held the young nation close to him protectively, as if expecting someone to pop out from nowhere and attack him. Scotland gave the ghost a hard pat on the back, a grateful smile gracing his lips, before he walked off, saying something about tidying up.

England was still traumatised about what he'd seen, but knew that he had to get rid of this ghost for good. The blonde approached the ghost on the floor, and that's when anger finally flooded his body. This ghost was the cause of all of this, so was therefore going to be the one to find out just how angry the blonde was.

Straddling the ghost, the angel started to punch the spectre's head repeatedly. He didn't stop when the ghost's face was bloodied and unrecognisable. He didn't stop when the tears stared to roll down his cheeks. He didn't stop when his own fists started to bleed. He didn't stop when Hong Kong's worried voice filtered through his earpiece. He was only going to stop when he relieved himself of the anger and frustration that was bottled up in him.

Prussia stood and watched, deciding against stopping the Englishman, the Brit wouldn't hear him anyway. Arthur needed this release. He did have the threat of a world war looming over his head, and that responsibility was driving him mad.

The Prussian looked up from studying America, the teen was already starting to heal, when he heard a shriek. Arthur's frustrated scream tore through the hangar as, apparently having unleashed most of his anger, the Englishman slammed his glowing hands over the ghost's heart. The Briton smiled as the ghost faded way.

With the ghost now gone, Arthur let his tiredness catch up with him and laid out on the ground. While he waited for Scotland to clean up America's mind, England closed his eyes.

Sitting next to him, Prussia laid America's head in his lap as he too closed his eyes but remained upright.

"Thanks Duckie."

"No problem Birdie."

Yeah, not sure if I like this chap, maybe too many jokes.

anyway I'm not sure as too why Scotland is the only one I wright an accent for, the others just say word in their own language every now and then

the next chap is a filler so will probably be a bit boring

also I'm going MCM (Comic con) the 27. I'm so excited, I'm going as casual Prussia where as Rosey is casual England. yay

any way see you next time and I'm sorry about the wait again

review and stuff if you want