A/N: So this idea just kind of came to me randomly and I had to turn it into a fanfic! Also, I drew up a couple character sketches which you can find on my tumblr (link in bio) I hope you guys enjoy this story and I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes or typos. I'm writing this on my phone and my autocorrect has a mind of its own w

***Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters

***Warnings: Yaoi, Language, Blood, Gore, Decapitation, Car crashes, Alcohol, Drunk Driving, Ghosts, Spirits

Severed!

Chapter 1

Death is a peculiar subject. One that is both feared and welcomed. Each and every living organism is a prisoner to its overbearing presence, eventually falling victim to its execution. Sometimes it comes quietly, sneaking upon one in the depths of the night, only to leave as quickly as it came. Sometimes it's so sudden, no one knows what to make of it, it's loud, bright, and so, so unimaginable. It can be peaceful or painful. Accepted or dreaded. But one thing that most seem to agree on is that it is a mystery we will never understand until we experience it ourselves.

Ivan Braginsky was a simple man with simple priorities. He didn't give much thought to the subject of death. It didn't concern him at the time, so it didn't matter all that much. He was more focused on the road in front of him at the moment. It had been a long day at the university and he needed to get home to his sisters. He was already out far later than he should have been and they were probably worried. The sun had long since set, only the full moon and blinding headlights of his car illuminated the two way road before him. The Russian was beyond exhausted from his day at school and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier as he tried to see through the blinding rain. He still had about twenty minutes of driving so he could hold out a little longer. The moonlight was soon blocked by towering trees on the side of the lonely road. He was driving the barren highway between the small town he lived in and the city he studied at. It was a quick drive through the forest and the road was empty. You'd have to be insane to drive this road at the current time of night.

Ivan guessed that made him insane. Well, him and the car speedily heading the opposite direction as him. He saw the headlights emerge from an uphill slope. They other car was moving fairly quick, way over the speed limit. The Russian sighed to himself. Honestly, kids these days. He noticed how bright the headlights were, almost as if they were directly in front of him.

Wait...they were.

It took a moment for Ivan's sleep hazed mind to register the car was speeding towards him head on. The other lights moved back and forth as if the driver was swerving uncontrollably.

Shit.

The vehicle in front of him was inching closer in what seemed like slow motion. Ivan finally came to his senses and swerved to the right to avoid a collision. Unfortunately the road was slick from the rain, causing him to lose control of the car. Skidding off the road, Ivan somehow managed to hit a road sign. The large board flew off of its flimsy metal legs and lodged itself on the hood on the Russian's car. The sign containing the next exits and popular road stops looked a lot bigger in front of him than it did when driving past it, the metal board was almost larger than the hood of his car. Ivan didn't have time to think of that as his car flew over the ditch on the side of the road and was sent barreling towards a rather large tree. In a panic, the Russian attempted to slam on the brakes but hit the gas pedal in his unfocused state. The tree was approaching rapidly and Ivan threw his hands in front of his face as a last minute effort to shield himself from the collision. He didn't even feel the car crash, however, he did see the road sigh plunge through the windshield just before everything went black.

Gilbert Beilschmidt was a complex man. And his priorities were far from simple. However, his biggest concern at the moment was finding the nearest exit of the crowded bar. He, Antonio, and Francis had thought it would be a good idea to visit a bar in the next town over for a little bit of fun. Things had quickly spiraled out of control and the three were drunk out of their minds.

Alright Gil, he thought to himself. Just get yer keys and get the hell outta here.

A rather burley man had began to flirt with him and to be honest, it made him beyond uncomfortable. The man was getting a bit too touchy with him and his breath reeked of more alcohol than Gilbert's. After escaping the man's disgusting clutches, the albino veered towards the exit, completely forgetting about his friends. Oh well, they'll mange.

Climbing into his black Chevy Silverado in an anything but graceful matter, Gilbert started his truck and sped down the road.

The German managed to make it to the main road with no issues, but his vision started to get foggy as he entered the path through the forest. Gilbert saw the bright headlights of another car slowly approaching. Wait, was it one car or two? Or maybe it was three? One thing he knew for sure, was that there were a lot of lights heading his way. Gilbert could barely keep his own car going straight in his alcohol endorsed state, how was he supposed to avoid all the weird lights?

Suddenly, the lights were gone. He felt his heart drop to his stomach after hearing the sound of screeching tires and a loud crash. Carefully he pulled his car to the side of the road, stepped out, and stumbled to the clearing caused by the out of control vehicle. His vision was still hazy as he followed the fresh tire marks into the woods.

The sinking feeling in his chest got heavier as he saw the complete wreckage of the other car. They type of vehicle was unidentifiable due to how destroyed it was. Holding his breath, Gilbert cautiously trudged to the driver's side of the car.

He felt the bile rise in his throat at the site. Illuminated in the pale moonlight, was the headless body of the deceased driver. Oh god, there was blood everywhere. There was so much blood. The German could see the crumpled remains of a road sign in the back seat of the car. Hesitantly, the albino shifted his scarlet gaze down to the the severed head of the driver resting in his own lifeless lap.

That was it. Gilbert was done. He turned and ran back to the road, tripping over the shrubbery of the untamed forest. He didn't look back as he jumped into his truck and sped down the road.

He had killed someone. He had just murdered someone who had a job, a life, a family. He didn't have any of those things, but he had just taken them away from an innocent victim. The rest of the drive back to his apartment in the city was spent in his own pitiful silence. He didn't even notice the tears cascading down his cheeks. He couldn't stop himself from choking on his own breath. The road was even blurrier than before. No matter what he tried to think about, the only memory consuming his thoughts were the lifeless body of he driver. The way the blood pooled from the stump of his neck and how mangled the car had been. The image would not go away. After a shitty parking job outside the apartment complex, Gilbert sped to his room, completely ignoring the doorman. He bounded up the metal stairs and into his apartment where he stumbled to the bathroom and promptly vomited his breakfast, lunch, and dinner into the toilet. The exhaustion from the day overcame him and the German collapsed in a pitiful heap, surrounded by his own tears and vomit. The bathroom began to get blurry before fading to black as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Ivan..." Was someone... calling his name?

"Ivan..." No... the Russian didn't want to get up yet.

"Ivan!" The voice snapped at the Slavic man, waking him from his trance. He sat up slowly and looked around. He was in a small clearing of a forest. The sun was covered by mid day clouds and the Russian could see the wind slightly rustling the trees and grass around him. How strange, he didn't feel cold at all.

How did he even get here? The last thing he remembered was driving home from school, then there was that other car, then-

"Shit!" Ivan pushed himself from his spot on the ground, only to feel a pair of strong hands push him back down.

"Woah... not too fast there big boy." The same voice from before echoed in his ear. It sounded as if it were coming from every direction at once, almost as if multiple people were speaking the same words in perfect unison. Ivan raised his violet gaze and was met with an unimaginable sight.

In front of him stood a man. Well, more of a boy. He couldn't have been older than twenty. He had short blond hair sticking out at odd angles. His eyes were big, blue and bright, they were framed by square glasses. They looked so alive compared to his...almost dead looking complexion. He was wearing a black v-neck and black skinny jeans bordered by heavy combat boots. Over his shirt, he wore a leather bomber jacket with a black fur color. The peculiar thing about the jacket however was it was more like a cloak, it went down to about his knees before sectioning off in tears and rips. Then it just...faded. He was holding a rather intimidating large, black as night scythe in his right hand. But the thing that really caught his attention, was the gaping bullet wound in his chest. It was right over the heart, Ivan could see straight through it, and wisps of blood pooled out before dissolving into thin air.

Something was not right.

"Wh-who are you?" Ivan asked hesitantly.

The figure laughed, a bubbly laugh that echoed in his ears. "I am Alfred F. Jones. Or better know as," he paused for dramatic effect. "The Collector of Souls."

"I'm sorry...?"

Alfred sighed. Seriously he had planned out that whole introduction and it was wasted on another clueless soul.

"I hate to have to be the one to tell you this," Alfred said. "But you're dead."

Ivan laughed. "Um I don't know who you are, but comrade, that is surely a lie. I think I'm just dreaming right now." The Russian said, unsure of his own words.

"I beg to differ," Alfred said nonchalantly as he gestured to his left. Ivan followed his movements, his eyes landed upon the horrible wreckage of his car. He was about fifty yards away but could see the blood staining the twisted skeleton of the vehicle. Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground and stumbled towards the crash on unstable feet. When he approached the mangled vehicle he shot Alfred a questioning glance before peering through the passengers seat window. The sight made him stumble back a few feet. He had to catch his breath before regaining the the courage to step up to the car again. In the drivers seat sat his headless body. Wearing the same tan jacket and dark blue jeans he was currently clad in. It was pathetic really, his severed head was resting in his own lap. And his fingers...were missing? How the hell did that happen? He looked back to the bloody stump that was once his neck. The arteries and bone had been severed in what looked to be one clean cut. The disfigured road sign responsible was resting in the back seat with an impressive amount of blood staining its green surface. He saw one of his fingers resting on the dash board and reached out to grab it. He stopped mid reach when he saw the state of his hand. The hand itself was intact but his severed fingered were floating lazily near their original tendons.

"Alfred!" He called in shock, spinning back to the unfazed boy.

"Oh you haven't seen the best of it," he jeered. In a graceful sweeping motion, the boy swung the scythe in front of him before tracing a circle in mid air with the tip of the blade. The shape glowed blue for a moment before fading to reveal a large mirror. Ivan gaped at the presentation as he stepped towards the reflective surface. The sight was almost as gruesome as the wreck itself. Ivan's reflection showed his severed head floating mere inches above the bloody stump of his neck. Besides the blood staining his neck, face, and jacket, there were wisps of the liquid pooling from his wounds. The scarlet blood floated into the air before disappearing, much like Alfred's injury.

"I-" the Russian couldn't form the words he wanted to say so badly. But then again, what could he say? He was dead. And his headless body was less that twenty yards away as proof. Ivan lifted a hand in front of his face, watching as the fingers trailed lazily behind before floating back into place.

Alfred figured that was enough and went to dispel the mirror. Swinging the scythe, he hit the glass dead on. To his dismay, instead of disappearing, the mirror cracked before shattering into pieces and falling to the ground.

"Damnit..." Alfred sighed. "I'm still not used to this thing." He then proceeded to smash he remaining pieces with the end of his blade. The shattered glass glowed a light blue before disappearing.

"I don't understand," Ivan said softly, staring at his fingers in awe.

"You're dead." Alfred answered. "Nothing more to it. Unfortunately, because your death was so sudden, there's something tying you to this world, making it impossible for me to take your souls until you get your shit together."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The Russian questioned him.

"It means you have unfinished business in this world. Whether it be a confession to someone you admire, a final goodbye to your lover," Alfred narrowed his eyes. "Vengeance on the one responsible for your death."

"Vengeance..." Ivan repeated to himself. "Alfred." He said sternly, peaking the boy's interest. "I want to know exactly how I died and who is responsible."

This made Alfred grin to himself. His job was beginning to become boring and this was just the kind of change he needed.

"Well, I'll skip the previews and get right to the main showing." Alfred grinned to himself as he casted another circle with his scythe. This one was slightly smaller than the mirror and instead of a reflective surface, the levitating orb showed a video. It was a sickly familiar image and Ivan watched in horror as the scene of his death was played out before him. He forced himself not to look away as his car was run off the road by the drunk driver's burly truck. The once blurry haze became clear as he watch his car slam into the a tree, sending the road sign through the windshield. He lifted his hands in a pathetic attempt to shield himself, but it didn't stop the metal slab from slicing through the bone of both his fingers and neck. It happened so fast his severed head didn't have any where else to fall besides his lifeless lap.

To his surprise the video kept rolling, he was staring at his deceased body, wondering when it would end, just as another figure entered the frame. Ivan leaned in to see the obviously drunk and panicked man inspect the crash. He looked to be the same age as Ivan, the way the moonlight illuminated his pale hair and scarlet eyes gave the whole scene an eerie vibe. Ivan watched with growing rage as the man promptly fled the scene. And just like that, he was gone. What a fucking jackass.

"Alfred," Ivan turned to the ghost as the image disappeared. "by any chance, do you know who that man is?"

"Well, Ivan," Alfred's smile was dark, mischievous. "I do, I do." He whipped the blade of the scythe towards himself, cleaning the edge with the hem of his tattered coat.

"That man is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

A/N: AH I love Alfred's character, He's so fun to write! Anyway, I did a lot of research on decapitation and car crashes to make it as realistic as possible while still keeping certain attributes I needed (like Gilbert not having any evidence against him). But if something seems inaccurate, please tell me! Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you have time!

- Caramel-Buns