I don't own Hetalia! End/AN/

England had made America strip Molossia down completely naked, as he worked making chalk markings all along the floor. It was like some sort of scene from a magic anime, in America's opinion, but somehow it felt far more serious.

"But why won't I like it?" he asked, covering Molossia with blankets while he waited for England. The micronation had lolled against him, face redder than America had thought possible and breaths beginning to sound a little wheezy.

"Just trust me on this," England said, making a squiggly line that America didn't understand.

"Come on, you have to tell me. Is it going to like, you know, sterilize him or something?" America didn't like that thought; he gripped Molossia a little tighter.

England let out a sigh, stopping in what he was doing and turning to look at America. "Look, this spell will strip him of his nationhood. But that's not all it does."

"What does it do, then?" America asked impatiently, getting tired of England not getting to the point. It was ridiculous to not answer a question directly, he thought, not remembering times he himself had done something similar.

"It strips away everything. Memories, identity, likes, dislikes... he'll be starting over with a blank canvas." There was compassion or something in England's eyes as he watched America, almost as if he could understand.

America's heart gave a small clench, and he smoothed down Molossia's hair, replying, "That's okay; I'll take care of him."

"But you can't," England said, and there was that irritating compassionate look, as though he had been through this before and had gotten through. It was like he thought he understood America as easily as a baby's picture book. "He has to live with his own kind, America."

America's temper flared, making him bark out, "I am his kind!" England couldn't be serious; Molossia was special, he was someone who would sit and garden for hours on end while America chattered away. He was someone who would always have a basket full of fresh veggies for America to take home at every visit. It didn't seem right that he should simply drop out of America's life completely.

"You won't be anymore," England said gently, and he went back to marking out the patterns with the chalk. "We can get him placed with a good foster family; probably his boss's family, or someone else who meets your approval. We can ensure he will get an education so that he can catch up to his peers. But we mustn't mess with his life once he's mortal again."

"It's not messing! And no one would take care of him like I would!" America drew Molossia to him protectively, making the micronation let out a small moan and turn his feverish face away from England.

England's voice was sharp as he snapped at America, "America, it's cruelty to make the mortal live with the immortal. He may be younger than you now, but imagine when he's an adult. Imagine when he's an old man. Will he be able to keep up with you? Will he be able to reconcile with the fact that you're going to live hundreds of years and his life is so very finite? Stop being so damn selfish!"

"I'm not being selfish! He would want to live with me! He wouldn't care that I'm going to live forever and he's not!" America snapped back, glaring at England as the temper leapt and frothed inside him. It felt like he would boil over, he was so angry.

"You're behaving like a child who can't have his favorite toy anymore!" England made one last mark against the floor, and held out his hand, gesturing for America to bring Molossia over. "I've done it, it's ready. Bring him."

"No!" America's shout seemed to startle England, who looked over at him sharply. America, however, clutched Molossia with an increasingly woozy stomach. "No, there has to be another way you're not telling me. There has to be a way to keep him!"

"America, there isn't! Stop putting yourself first and think of what's best for him," England said, standing up amid his handiwork.

It felt wrong, so horribly wrong. Molossia was one of the ones that America had dared to make friends with, had dared to hope would be around a long time. He was one of the ones who was supposed to last, damnit. His stomach seemed to tremble with the urge to be sick. "No! I won't let you!"

And he bounded up, Molossia easily carried in his arms, to the bathroom.

"No, America!" England shouted, but he was too late.

America locked the door, and settled against it with Molossia carefully settled next to him. He smoothed back his hair again, promising, "It's going to be okay. We're going to figure it out, and you won't have to lose everything."

Molossia slumped against him weakly, unable to hold himself up. He was probably not even aware of what was going on, but America talked to him anyhow.

"Everything's going to be all right," he promised again, and he racked his brain trying to think of how.

/AN/ I know I haven't updated this in a while... I lost my work on it originally and felt rather demotivated about it. I hope you like the update anyhow.