Rated M. This is a piece of literary fiction. The Author does not claim ownership pertaining to the ideas/characteristics/ect, of Hetalia or any subsidiary thereof.

Rated T.

Based off of a book I once read in accordance with the wheel of time series.

OoOoOo

Jett didn't remember how it happened.

One moment he was in his apartment, getting ready for holiday, and the next the bleeding wall came falling down. Not quite literally, but it melted into a void of swirling colors and bright lights. Had he been American, he might have suggested 'aliens'.

However, that was not what greeted him.

A specter walked forward from the void, and it seemed to solidify around her. The colors changing to happy hues and he could faintly hear the sounds of music in the distance. Gentle and soothing. A sense of comfort washed over him.

Then, he noticed the cloak and hood. The scythe that was perched on small shoulders.

"Fuck!" Jett hollered, his instinct rearing to life to flee like a mad man. Yet, he did not make it more than three steps, before he could not move his body.

"Jett Smith?" An eerily haunting, but urethral and melodic voice questioned.

His knees seized up on him, and he swallowed quickly.

"Hey," he responded out of reflex, then nearly kicked his own ass. Then again, when something like this happened, and they called you by name, maybe you were supposed to answer. Yes, he had and now 'she'd be apples'.

The figure stilled, an invisible wind seemed to whip at the cloak it wore, as the light changed around him. Another moment passed, and everything seemed to still as the world around him changed into what he could only call an explosion of starts and mist.

"Hey dude," Death said to him, casually, and in a woman's voice.

Jett nearly gave himself whiplash by how fast he craned his neck to stare at her.

"Death?" He questioned back, in a quiet voice,

Suddenly, the specter reached out, and instead of bones were fleshed hands. Thin fingers pulled back at the hood that covered her head. A head of blonde hair was soon unveiled. Beneath the golden locks was a sweet looking face, that was smiling at him politely.

"No," She said with eyes so blue they hurt to truly look at. "I'm Amelia. You can call me the 'Apprentice of Death'."

He stilled, eyes wide and horrified.

"Oh come on dude, I'm just an apprentice." she muttered as she kicked a stray wisp. "No need to wet your pants."

He gaped at her. Was... was Death... American? Because death sounded American!

"What?" She asked, tilting her head to contemplate him. "Just hang on a moment and my boss will be here."

"Boss?"

"Yeah, dude, the current and true Death." She said, almost in a bored tone.

Jett looked around, wondering if he'd gone Looney and no one had told him yet. His puzzled and horrified appearance must have clued her into the fact that he was not nearly as underwhelmed with this as she was.

"Do you have any idea why I am here?" Amelia asked, gently, as if coaxing him to speak.

"...I'm dead?"

"Well, I mean, that's actually not the reason I'm here." She walked closer to him, and inside the invisible bubble that seemed to hold him, Jett tried to squirm away.

That made her smile at him in amusement.

"Relax, I can't hurt you." She promised congenially, and for some strange reason he believed her. "Jett, you've-"

"Amelia, are you still prattling on?!" A voice so loud that is rivaled thunder shook the space between the lady Death and Jett.

Jett jumped, whirling around to see a looming figure, at least nine feet high, with a cloak blacker than midnight as the strange cosmic mist swirled around him stronger. It was more than a bit intimidating.

However, Amelia didn't seem all that concerned.

"Hey Arthur, we were just waiting for you."

Jett blinked, hovering between frightened and just plain confused. Yet, he could not tear his gaze away from the looming figure .

"Would you mind taking off the hood?" The lady death asked conversationally, "You're scarring Mr. Smith."

"I'm not scared," Jett denied.

Amelia shared a look with the true Death, which stated she clearly did not believe him. Jett would have huffed indignantly, but he was busy watching t 'Death' -of all things Death!- pull off its hood.

To reveal a man with eyebrows nearly as thick as his own, but a much larger scowl.

"By thunder Amelia," Death railed at her. "You've been doing this for a week and you still can't learn to just take the souls to-"

Jett choked mildly.

"A week?" He interrupted, against better judgment. "You've been at this a week."

She winked at him with a flirtatious smile.

"I'm a fast learner."

"Not fast enough," Death scolded.

"Arthur," Amelia admonished, "Don't be rude, you haven't even greeted Mr. Smith."

That made 'Arthur' pause and he flushed slightly, staring at Jett balefully.

"Oh yes, Hello. Pardon my lack of introduction."

"Hello," he responded in kind, "Cheers."

Death appraised him with green and hard eyes. Jett could feel the dislike radiating off the crotchety looking old codger. Though he did not really even look all that old.

"Yes, quite." Death murmured, as he gazed back at Amelia.

"I was just trying to explain to Mr. Smith what is going on," she stated casually.

"Must it take you so long?" Arthur rebutted with a sense of rudeness.

"Of course it must, darling."

At the endearment, Death flushed harder.

"Shameless flirt."

"Always!" She admitted, clearly unabashed. She moved closer, and Jett was grateful he would not have to turn around again. All of this was liable to make him 'go on the piss', if he wasn't dead.

"Jett," Amelia said kindly, with a bit of comfort in the way she looked at him. "As I was saying, I am the apprentice of Death. This is Arthur," she motioned to the frowning man. "He is the current and true Death. But, he has been at this task for a very long time. And, as happens in the mortal world, eventually you start not giving your all at a job where you've-"

"I beg your pardon," Arthur stiffly said with narrowed green eyes.

Amelia continued unperturbed.

"Things like compassion, kindness, understanding, and objectivity, they wane after a long period of time."

"Fie on you, I am objective," Death groused.

Her face took on an expression of disbelief.

"You keep yelling at every French person that dies!"

An amused and satisfied smirk worked its way onto Arthur's face.

"Yes, well, that is me being objective-"

"You made a sixty year old man cry!"

Death sniffed, but hsi amusement was no less. "He was overly sensitive."

Amelia glared at him. "We will talk about this later, as I was saying Jett," she continued, "there are three main roles that must continue as long as time does. There is God, the Devil, and Death. All of these positions must be filled. However, they have to be done correctly. Death must never judge, it is not the place of Death."

"Exactly so," Arthur nodded with a look of steel in his eyes.

Ameila's lips quirked upward. Jett still wanted to get as far away from the pair as was humanly possible.

"God must have mercy and forgiveness. The Devil must be willing to punish and harm when called for."

Jett swallowed, feeling rather numb.

"But you see, after thousands of years, God... grows bitter and quiet. From all the answered prayers that are spat upon and the cruelty of the world. The Devil finds mercy, because he or she grows tired of punishing everyone. The world is a mix of Grey Jett, and that makes it hard when your role is to only stay in the black and white of the rules. So, every few thousand years or so... everyone needs to be replaced."

He blinked at her.

Amelia grinned at him.

"For example, I was chosen by Arthur for constantly repeating the phrase 'Its not my place to judge' or 'That's not my place', throughout my life time."

His eyes widened and he glanced between the smiling woman and the frowning Death.

"You think that's strange?" She asked with a mischievous sparkle to her eyes.

Jet nodded, wholly unsure of what else to say. Half afraid that he would say something to upset the real Death, let alone the hot-headed apprentice.

"Ha! If you think that is strange, you should see how they elected the Devil's apprentice," Amelia confided in a whisper. "He got chosen for being the nicest guy and making deals all of the time."

Jett's mouth gaped a little.

"He was chosen for being bloody nice?!"

Blue eyes blinked at him.

"Of course. The Devil goes after everyone, so he or she needs to be personable."

He paused, realizing with a large amount of grim dismay that made a lot of sense. It needed to be someone innocuous like the legends of old. One that people would willing make a deal with. Someone -and he hated to put it this way- trustworthy.

"Ah... I... don't-"

"Even know what to say, huh? Don't worry about it, Lars and I both went through this stage."

"Lars?" Jett questioned with a raised brow. His face scrunched up in confusion.

"Yeah dude, the apprentice of the Devil. He's Dutch."

Jett's face blanked carefully. He was busy recalling the time he had traveled to the Netherlands, and it had not been a friendly experience for him.

"You don't say."

It was Amelia's turn to look confused.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Amelia!" Arthur interrupted with his patience almost gone.

She turned, blonde hair shining brightly as she beamed at him.

"Sorry Artie!"

"My name is Arthur," the true Death specter reminded her through his clenched teeth.

"I know." Amelia replied with a slight huff of laughter. "But I like Artie better."

"Wench! I was a-"

"King," she interrupted lazily. "Yes, yes. I know. I know."

She gave him a mocking curtsey, gathering up the shroud of her station and bowing her head.

"After you, Sire."

Moss green eyes narrowed on her.

"I shall never remember why I believed you were a proper selection." He grumped unhappily. Amelia grinned at him playfully.

"Oh, sure. Whatever you say Dude."

"How many times must I repeat myself? I am not the son of 'Dude', though I am certain that he is a noble man-"

Amelia turned back to Jett.

"He's going to go on like this for a while. Let's take you to God, okay?"

Jett's eyes bugged from his head.

"I get to see God?" He asked in obvious awe and a bit of rightful fear.

The apprentice of Death turned toward him fully, as Arthur ranted in the background laying out the appropriate ways to speak to royalty. Also, the true way to pledge fealty to King and Country. He then detailed what it was like in his time, when men where honorable and bound to a code.

"Uh... yeah," Amelia responded, not understanding where she had lost him.

Jett licked his lips, and straightened his spiritual 'clothing'.

"Won't I have to go to judgment first?" He asked slowly.

"Judge-... oh." She beamed at him, as understanding washed over her features. "Jett, you aren't being judged for Heaven or Hell."

"I'm not?!" He nearly shouted the question in exhilaration. "So this is a near-death experience? I am supposed to change my life around? Help orphans in bloody Uganda or something?"

His heart quickened at the thought and he said a prayer of thanks.

Amelia placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch was not cold, as he had expected, but warm and filled with a strange sort of fondness. Her touch kindled a strange feeling in his chest, such as awakening a deeper knowledge.

"Oh no. Sweetie, no. You are dead. So totally dead. Like, the landlord already found you and is gonna auction off your stuff if your family doesn't come for it... dead."

Jett froze, staring at her in horror.

"Bu...but I don't understand. You said I wasn't going to be judged."

She nodded along.

"You're not. Jett..."

Amelia paused, glancing skyward and them behind her.

"Artie? You wanna tell him?"

"You're the Apprentice of God you sodding git!" Arthur snapped, at his tirade being disrupted.

Jett might have commented, but everything about him froze and tumbled around. He cound not comprehend the oddness of their words. No, this had to be a dream. A bad case of food poisoning from eating take away. No. This couldn't be.

He? Him? He was to be the apprentice of God.

"I...I think..." Jett said with a sickly sort of weak grin of surprise. "That I am going to be sick."

Amelia clapped him on the shoulder again.

"Yeah, Lars and I went through that too."

OoOoOo

It's not quite all he had thought it would be. God was embodied by a cranky and swear-spouting Italian man named Romano. Though, despite his cynicism for the world, Jett noted that he listened to the prayers of the children and the fools the most closely. The fools he said, reminded him of his brother, who had gone to Heaven long ago.

Romano was ready now, to give up his mantle of being God and pass it onto Jett. Jett Smith, who had been kind, caring, and had known in his life when to say 'No'. Because not every prayer could or should be answered.

Some prayers were downright wicked and evil. Some were so utterly selfless, that Jett was moved to near tears. Romano watched him with a scowl, but a softened look in his eyes. There had been a time, when he too had felt the same.

Jett also had to cope with hearing billions of voices, in the whole spectrum of human emotion, ratting in his head constantly. The anger, the hate, and the violence was nearly too much. Yet, it was tempered by kindness, compassion, and general goodwill. It caused him to gasp aloud at his whole body morphed and changed to surge with the powers of God, even in an apprentice form.

"How long will I be like this?" He asked, in a daze, suddenly coming to understand everything and anything. Except that which was kept from him by the true God for the sake of learning.

"I will be with you, teaching you, for some 500 years."

Jett felt a wave a relief crash over him.

"That is good, a long time to learn."

Romano gave a barking laugh. His laughter caused the heavens to shake, but he continued to allow his mirth to pour through.

"Oh no, Jett, it is not long at all. Time has no meaning here. To you and I, we are aware of it, but there is no weight behind it." Romano said, and Jett could have sworn he called him a 'gullible bastard'.

But, Jett didn't want to think about that.

"Romano! Jett!" A lively voice called out brightly, and the pair of males turned toward the sudden pull of Death.

Jett was not afraid anymore. Death was only a messenger, a collector and protector of souls. That was what Amelia's role truly boiled down to.

Romano blinked down at her.

"Ah, the bat crazy death."

It at all possible, Amelia's smile grew wider.

"I see you remember me," she replied with a faint flush on her cheeks. Romano raised a brow in question, as Amelia nodded.

"Arthur is coming." She replied lazily.

"Probably still chasing after the Devil, that stupid bastard." Romano said with agitation, as he muttered under his breath.

Jett blinked, startled by the revelation, for he did not know what Romano chose to keep from him. Romano did not even bother to glance up as he went about answering the prayers of widows and orphans for safety and guidance.

"The current devil is a woman," Romano offered, knowing what Jett was silently asking, "and-"

"Artie's got the hots for Nihoko," Amelia snickered with amusement.

Romano's lips quirked as well.

"There is that."

Jett blinked, gazing between them.

"Wouldn't that be... forbidden?"

It was Amelia that shook her head. "Oh no, Death still brings all souls and does not judge them. As long as Arthur never takes a souls from where it is supposed to go, no rules are broken. Besides, being the middle, Death can pretty much pick a..."

Romano was watching her with honey-colored eyes. Amelia flushed.

"A what?"

Jett had the feeling she was going to say something else, but Amelia looked down and then back up with a subdued expression.

"Companion?"

"Much better, thank you." Romano said blithely.

"Anytime!" She replied happily.

"Could the same be true, for God?" Jett asked in curiosity, his eyes lingering on the way Amelia grinned at him and winked.

"You'd better not try a bloody thing," Arthur interrupted with a grousing tone as green eyes glared balefully at the apprentice of God.

"Oh, I don't know," Amelia said while raising her hand slightly, "I'd be curious what he would try."

Jett smiled at her then, a bit of roguish charm appeared around him and his robes began to glow softly.

"I think I like you," He commented in amusement.

"Feeling's mutual," she replied.

Romano groaned into his hands as he dropped his head into them. Arthur put his hood back on, growing several feet and dark mists swirled around him.

"Just you try it," Death hissed with irritation. He grabbed at Amelia's cloak, shoving her hood back on, despite her protests.

Jett thought that no matter how long he continued to fill the role of God, or even as the apprentice, would he ever see anything as unusual as a form of Death making a 'call me' motion.