A/N: Happy Birthday Rachel!

Warnings: This story takes place during WWII, hence there are mentions of concentration camps and some of the other horrific things that went on. Please read at your own discretion.

The Berlin Pact

When England's boss told him that they were forming an alliance with Germany, he hadn't known how to react.

Chamberlain had returned from Berlin only hours earlier, and the news he brought managed to shock the entire nation.

In his mind, England knew that Germany had been getting better after the First World War, but he couldn't help but be a little hesitant to trust the German. It had only been four years at most since Germany had violated the Treaty of Versailles, and England had been having a hard time trusting Germany.

Yet, his boss explained, Ludwig and his boss had included something to sweeten the deal, the opportunity to take down his long time enemy, France.

England looked at the ground when his boss mentioned that. He and France were on good terms, or at least, better terms than normal. Yet… It would've been so nice to get back at France for all those times—For The Hundred Years' War, for the War of the Grand Alliance, for all those times his citizens died because of that stupid French bastard…

Ultimately, the offer had been too much to refuse.

August 7, 1939 – Berlin Pact signed.

A month later, Germany asked England for soldiers.

"To invade Poland," He explained, "He's adopted a threatening attitude. We need to destroy his military power."

England knew that was a lie. He had been to Poland's house before, and the ditzy blond nation always seemed to be too obsessed with ponies and pink to do any 'real' damage, or be of any real risk.

England took a sip of tea, raising an eyebrow, "We both know that's a lie." He stated, looking at the German across the table, "What's the real reason?"

"Returning land to my brother." Ludwig answered, same serious tone as always.

England nodded. Prussia had become a part of Germany since he dissolved, hadn't he? "So this is revenge against Poland." England concluded. "I don't want to get involved in your petty revenge schemes."

"You mean like I'm doing for you and France?"

September 7, 1939 – British-German Invasion of Poland

Germany didn't contact him for a while after that. In a way, England had been grateful for that.

There were occasions when England wondered if he was doing the right thing after all. Poland had been an easy victory, and in a way that seemed unfair. The blond nation, formerly filled with so much spunk and joy, was reduced to a broken heap with so little effort from Germany and England.

England hated to admit how caught up he got in the battle. It took him back to his pirate days, in a way. Back when the name 'England' stuck fear in everyone who heard it. It felt almost good having Poland at his feet, begging for the mercy that would never come.

The power had been intoxicating. Having someone under in complete and utter submission had been such an amazing feeling for him. England couldn't even remember feeling something that good for a long time.

And yet… He couldn't help but have felt guilty. Half of him craved getting that thrill again, of pushing another nation down at the brink of death, that half wanted him to do it again. While the other half regretted ever agreeing to work with Germany. His other half felt disgusted at his decisions, told him to stop while he had the chance.

Though, in hindsight, he realized it would've been too late at this point.

October 19, 1939 – Britain expelled from the League of Nations.

"Do you like it? We modeled it after your old ones." Ludwig explained, walking England through Belzec.

England couldn't have denied the similarities if he tried. The starving citizens, the smell of illness and death, he remembered it all from the Second Boer War all too well. "I thought we evolved past doing this sort of thing."

Ludwig almost smiled at this, and it gave England a sick feeling in his stomach. "As if your experimentation with mustard gas is any better." He commented, simply.

They continued walking down the corridor, with Ludwig pointing out all the various features of this particular camp. England had to admit, it was pretty impressive, at least compared to some of the ones he used to have. England wasn't entirely sure whether he had been horrified at the same time or not.

"On that note, we're interested in opening up some of these camps in Britain." Ludwig stated.

England raised an eyebrow, "What do the politicians think of this?" He asked, not wanting to pass any sort of judgment yet. Passing judgment could've lead to unnecessary conflict between the two nations, and if England wanted Germany to help out with defeating France, he knew he had to stay on the other nation's good side.

"Your boss seems fine with it, according to the Führer." Ludwig answered, "He's beginning to share our desires for a perfect race."

England leaned against a wall, "So then why are we having this conversation?" He asked.

"We want this to remain as quiet as possible." He explained, "And we think it would be easiest to do this if we could get more of our politicians into your office… We know there's an election coming up, and it would be… beneficial to both of us if you could elect a Nazi party."

England considered this for a minute. Being closer to Germany, including his political views, would have brought them closer. Ultimately, England knew it would've gotten him closer to his goal of defeating France.

"I'll do it."

November 7, 1939 – British Government elects the Nazi Party.

November 22, 1939 – Canterbury concentration camp opened.

When America found out about what he had done, he was beyond horrified.

England, of course, could tell this because the nation had phoned him twelve times in the past hour. It was annoying. England himself actually had paperwork he could've been doing, and it was very hard to concentrate when his phone kept ringing every five minutes.

He sighed, picking up the phone. "Yes?" He snapped.

"Arthur!" America yelled into the phone. God, that boy really needed to work on his volume control, England noted, "What the hell have you been doing?"

England sighed and leaned his head against the desk. He liked his former colony, he really did, but sometimes Alfred could be just so damn annoying. Besides, Arthur had work that really needed to done.

"What the hell are you talking about, stupid bloke…" He replied, putting down his pen.

"You joined up with Germany!" Alfred practically yelled. Dear god, did that boy honestly have that little self-restraint? "What the hell, Arthur? Don't you remember the last war?"

England sighed again. This was going to be one of those conversations.

"Germany just got out of a recession. Our bosses used to be close to each other, so we decided to help them out." It wasn't a complete lie. In fact, it really could've been the truth. America wouldn't have understood the real reason, anyways. "Who the hell did you hear this from, anyways? You can't even find Germany on a map."

"Well…" America began, "Mattie said he heard it from Francis. And then he told me! So, I guess Canada did…"

England glared at the phone and hung up abruptly. It was France again. France who always got in the way, France who delivered these messages to America, and France who was trying to get in the way of their plans.

He wouldn't let that damn frog get in his way. England knew he had to settle it once and for all.

Without another word, England picked up the phone and dialed the one person he knew could help.

December 15, 1939 – British-German invasion of France

"It felt good, didn't it?"

England looked up from his book. Ludwig was over at his house again, leaning against a wall, but that wasn't unusual at this point. After England had elected a Nazi party into power, it seemed almost as if the two couldn't see enough of each other.

As much as Arthur was reluctant to open a concentration camp at the beginning, he had begun to see the true beauty of a pure, Aryan race. As Ludwig had been telling him, it made the world much more… pure. It left only the strongest alive. With books like "Mein Kampf" being translated at last, it seemed as if some of his citizens were even beginning to agree with him. They'd been so reluctant at the beginning, it was nice to see them finally coming to terms with what was best. England could wear that red band around his arm with pride, now.

England had begun to enjoy the feeling himself. He could admit that much.

"Which part of it?" He replied, putting his book to the side, "Defeating the frog or helping cleanse the human race?" He asked.

Ludwig smirked, "I didn't expect you to be so enthusiastic about the second part. I'm happy you're finally embracing our policies, though." Ludwig continued, "But the first part. Wasn't it so nice to finally defeat France?"

England smiled at the memory. France had gone down so easily, too, begging about how he didn't want his "precious cities" to be destroyed. The nation that he had fought with for centuries was finally defeated, and this time, England was sure it would be forever. That frog would never try to dominate him again.

"Thank you again for your help." He replied.

"It doesn't have to end here." Germany stated abruptly.

England raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" He asked, looking the taller man straight in the eyes.

"We could easily control Europe." Ludwig replied, "You'd be master of the seas once again. Wouldn't that be nice? Controlling all the trade routes, making sure we got all the money…"

England hummed, "What makes you think we could even do it?"

"Your navy is the best in the world." He replied, "And doesn't it feel nice to have power over nations?" He asked, "I already have Italy and Japan on my side, and Spain owes Italy and me for our help during his civil war, even Russia is in an agreement with myself. There's no one to stop us. Who knows, you might be able to get your former colony back."

England's eyes snapped open at that. The power would've been nice on it's own… but getting America back…

"I'll do it."

"A toast to our new allies."

England held up his glass, tapping the other members' glasses and giving a small smile. It was going to be so nice to hold control once again… All the trade ports belonging to him. No one would stand in his way; no one could stand in his way. Europe would easily be controlled by Spain, Germany, and Italy, while Japan could deal with Asia.

They'd all fall down, slowly but steadily.

Arthur looked around the table, surveying his new allies. Spain had a tired look on his face, one that honestly didn't suit the normally carefree nation. Civil Wars tended to do that, though, so England honestly couldn't blame him.

Romano was leaning against the Spaniard's arm, muttering things England couldn't hear under his breath. Spain cracked a small smile at one of them, but besides that the duo remained fairly non-descript. Romano still had that same grumpy look on his face.

Feliciano sat to the left of his brother and the right of Japan, and was talking rather animatedly to the Asian man, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. The innocence from Feliciano's wild gestures and speech was ruined by a tiny little look in his eye that England recognized as bloodlust.

Japan looked as polite as ever, and England thought it was nice the Asian nation was finally interacting with the European countries, despite how uncomfortable Kiku was looking.

Then, finally, there was Germany sitting beside him, looking as proud as ever, the swastika sewn proudly onto his sleeve, much like England's own. He took another sip of the beer Germany had supplied all of them.

Their bosses were sitting in the table beside theirs, finishing signing the pact that would change everything.

Germany smirked, holding his glass in the air once again, "To our new future."

Everyone held up his glasses, following suit. "Our new future."

February 13, 1940 – Axis Pact signed by Spain, England, Italy, Japan, and Germany.

More and more nations had fallen to them day by day.

February 27, 1940 – German invasion of Holland.

It was easy.

March 1, 1940 – British invasion of Belgium..

No one could stand up to the armies.

March 3, 1940 – Italian invasion of Albania.

Countries that had been on top of the world had fallen easier than a deck of cards.

May 15, 1940 – Spanish and British invasion of Luxemburg

England smirked as yet another nation, Lithuania this time, was dragged into the house of an Axis power. It was such a beautiful sight, England thought. All the trade routes were beginning to be curved in his favor, especially the ones that required any sort of shipping overseas.

"Such a beautiful sight." Ludwig mused, putting a hand onto England's shoulder.

England gave a small smile, "That it is." He replied, "I never thought Italy had it in him."

"The small ones are always the most surprising." Ludwig replied.

It was satisfying taking down nation after nation after nation. Yet, it wasn't enough. It felt like they weren't going after the right prey, in a sense. None of the nations, save Portugal, had put up a decent fight, and it had begun to bore England.

"Who next?" He asked, smiling growing as he saw the Baltic nation begin shaking uncontrollably, just like his little brother always did.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, "Who were you thinking of?" He asked.

England thought about this for a second. Invading the Nordic countries could be beneficial, seeing as they had such good ports, though it didn't really seem like the time for that. Taking the other Baltic nations would've been fine as well, though a little too easy for England's liking.

"Switzerland?" He suggested.

Germany shook his head, "My soldiers have money in Switzerland's banks. Invading him would be… highly unadvisable." He paused for a second, "But I do have an idea I think you'll be very partial to."

"Oh?"

Germany smirked, "The Soviet Union."

England frowned for a second, turning to look at the German man, "I thought you had an alliance with Russia." He stated.

Germany shook his head, "I never intended to keep it in the first place." He explained, "The Soviet Union was always something I knew I would have to overcome. Why not do it now? Most of Europe is under our foot, anyways."

"Russia's too strong right now." England replied, "And there's too much land. How can you be sure we'll be able to do it?"

Germany frowned, thinking for a second, "If we invade the Nordic countries, we can cut off their trade with the Soviets. Besides, I've been meaning to get my hands on them, anyways. They're so pure and Aryan, wouldn't you agree?"

England nodded, considering the German's suggestion. "Tell me when you need the soldiers and I'll deploy them immediately."

June 6, 1940 – Germany invades Denmark

July 3, 1940 – England invades Norway

September 9, 1940 – Germany breaks the Nazi-Soviet Pact.

"Artie, what the hell."

England frowned, placing his pen to the side and looking up at America. He hadn't let the American in, nor had he heard any indication that America would've been coming over anytime soon.

"What do you want, can't you see I'm busy?" England replied.

America frowned, "You've ignored every single one of my phone calls, and you hung up on me last time!" He exclaimed, "Seriously Artie, what the hell?"

England sighed, "Don't call me Artie, and I've been busy, as I said before." He explained.

America sat down in one of the chairs across from him, "Artie, I've heard what you've been doing." America's voice took on a more serious tone than normal, "Why have you been invading so many people? Why did you invade France?"

England sighed again; he really didn't want to discuss this with America. His former colony wouldn't understand, and England had really hoped he could've kept America out of the loop for a little bit longer. America wouldn't understand, and America also loved to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

England hoped he could convince America to join his side. If the American wouldn't remain neutral for now than it was the next best thing.

"Nations invade each other constantly, surely you know this." England replied.

America stood up, "But not without declaration of wars, and not without reason, either. Why are you doing this?"

England frowned, "It's no big deal and you shouldn't concern yourself over it."

"I'm going to, whether you want me to or not."

England sighed, "Fine. Go over to the bookshelf and pick out 'Mein Kampf'." He explained, "That's what we're fighting for." He elaborated. Maybe America would join him after he figured out that what they were doing was for the best.

America grabbed the book in question, skimming through the first chapter. His eyes widened, "Do you have any idea how insane this all sounds?" He asked, eyebrows practically touching his hairline.

England scoffed, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, stupid bloke… Stay neutral if you want."

"Artie…" America said, "I can't let you continue on like this. Your ideas… they're insane! You can't say you honestly believe in them…"

"I do."

"It wouldn't be heroic, letting this go on." America replied, frowning, "And I think you know what that means."

England didn't reply when America left his house.

November 20, 1940 – United States of America declares war on England.

December 3, 1940 – United States of America begins developing the Atom Bomb.

Things had been escalating rather quickly, England noted. He hadn't expected America to declare war on him so quickly. In fact, England had even been hoping that, in time, his former colony would've joined their cause.

It was disappointing, but not devastating. Besides, England knew he had a good relationship with a certain country just north of America. England would have gone as far as to say that he had a better relationship with Canada than America or France could ever hope to have.

He smiled to himself, walking up to Canada's door. It would've been nice to keep the North American brothers out of this situation for a little while longer, but if it had to be this way then it had to be done.

England knocked on the door. He really wasn't worried about convincing his former colony. Even if Canada was his own independent nation, he was still largely under British control. It would be easy to convince Canada to join him.

Canada opened the door, carrying that bear of his in his arms. England reached out a hand and ruffled the polar bear's fur.

Canada gave him a strange look, "Arthur, it's a surprise to see you." He stated, stepping to the side and inviting his former guardian into his home.

England walked in, surveying what Canada had done with his home since he'd last been here. Not a lot had changed, he noted, but that didn't surprise him. His former-colony never was big on over lavish decorations.

Canada led England to the main room, motioning for him to sit down on one of the comfortable chairs. "Can I get you anything?" Canada offered, "I don't have the tea you usually drink, but I can still make you a cup of something else."

"It's fine, Matthew. I actually came to talk to you." England explained, motioning for the Canadian to sit down beside him.

Canada flushed for a second, sitting down in a chair across from the English man, "Oh… What do you need?" He asked, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"You've heard about America declaring war on me, haven't you?" England asked. Canada nodded, looking slightly nervous, "Me and the other Axis countries are wondering if you're interesting in joining us. You're at risk of being invaded by America, as it currently stands."

Canada shook slightly, reminding England of a certain Baltic nation, "I'm sorry, Arthur. I've heard of your policies, and what you've been doing to your Jewish people… I can't join up with you."

England frowned. He hadn't expected this, "Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind."

Canada shook his head.

England stood up, "If you aren't with us, you're against us." He stated, "It's too bad, really. You were such a well behaved child."

Canada glared at this, "Can't you see that what you're doing is wrong? Arthur, you're killing innocent people for no reasons!" He exclaimed.

England flinched, "I'd advise you prepare your troops." He replied, walking towards the door.

"I'll do that."

January 3, 1941 – Canada declares war on Britain.

America looked around the room, taking a mental roll call of all the nations there. He frowned, there were fewer nations than last week, and the ones that were here weren't even necessarily the ones that had been there the times before.

He sighed, putting on a huge, false smile. He and China were the only world superpowers that were Allies, from what America could tell, and it was exhausting having to send his soldiers to other countries.

"All right, ready to start the Allies meeting?" He exclaimed, scribbling notes on the chalkboard, "If we can get Norway and Denmark—"

"G'rmany inv'ded Denm'rk and 'ngland inv'ded Norway." Sweden stated solemnly.

America paused for a second, "We could send troops through Africa to—"

"England is in control of most of the African countries." Canada replied.

"We could send troops to protect Lithuania, Latvia and—"

Finland interrupted, "If we do that, the Soviet Union will be completely against us. We shouldn't risk a war with them right now."

America paused again, "Well why don't we—"

"Damn it, America, why don't you just accept that it's hopeless?" Turkey interrupted, slamming his fist on the table.

America froze for a second, trying to figure out anything to say. It really did feel like there were few options, at best, and even fewer good options. But it couldn't be hopeless because heroes didn't lose; they earned the happy ending they always dreamed of.

"What is hopeless?" America turned to the door, and instantly reached for his gun as soon as he saw the figures in the door.

Russia stood there, soviet symbol sewn proudly onto the sleeve his jacket. To his right stood Belarus, looking as menacing as ever and clinging to her brother's arm and to his left stood Ukraine, who was avoiding any eye contact with Russia and standing as far away as she could.

"I thought you were an Axis country, aru." China replied, leaning onto the table.

Russia laughed nervously, "It's a little more complicated than that, comrade." He explained, "May we come in?"

America leapt up, "How can we tell you're not just here to get secret information? How can we tell you don't have weapons?"

Russia gave a creepy smile, "I have my pipe, Natasha has her knife, and Ukraine has her pitchfork. Now there are no surprises!"

America sighed. He was a communist, which meant he couldn't be trusted, but America had a gun, and a gun would beat a pipe any day. "Fine, come in."

"Thank you, comrade." Russia smiled, sitting down in a free chair beside China. Belarus stood behind him while Ukraine sat beside Canada, as far away from Russia as she could get.

There were a few minutes of silence, where Russia just sat there with a smile on his face not saying anything.

"Are you planning to tell us why you're here?" China asked.

Russia frowned, "Germany has betrayed me." He explained, "I want to join the Allies to take down Germany." He elaborated.

America frowned. He didn't want to work with Russia and the rest of the Soviet Union, but at the same time he knew that the Allies were fighting a losing battle as it currently stood, and having the Soviet Union aligned could be helpful.

He sighed, "Fine, you can join us." He replied, "But if I hear you attacked any other country we will kick you out."

"It's a deal, America."

May 1, 1941 – The Soviet Union joins the Allies.

England smirked as more and more nations fell.

They could resist, but the result would always be the same. There was simply no one to stand up to stand up to him.

Some of them put up damn good fights, but the result was the same.

Within time, they'd all fall down

"They're out of control." China stated, crossing his arms in front of him.

America sighed, looking around the room at the few allies that remained, all in various battered shapes. The war had been taking its toll on every single one of them in their own way. America knew that some of them hadn't even wanted to get involved with the war in the first place, but with even neutral countries getting invaded, it was one of the only ways to ensure their safety.

Even long time enemies, like Greece and Turkey, had been forced to work together in order to stay protected.

"Well that's obvious enough." Turkey snapped, leaning against Greece's arm. For once, the lazy, Mediterranean nation didn't seem to mind. "Why don't you try giving a suggestion for once?"

China looked up, "I'm doing my best, aru. Why don't you contribute something other than complaints for once?" He snapped.

"You try contributing something when England's bombing your cities every couple of days." Turkey replied, glaring at the Chinese man.

Greece sighed, "Arguing amongst ourselves isn't necessary, nor is it productive." He stated calmly, trying desperately to mediate the situation before it got out of hand.

"Let's try to focus on the current issue, please…" Canada said softly. For once, it seemed as if everyone had heard him.

Alfred looked up from his spot, "All right," He began, walking over to the chalkboard and scribbling some notes. "Uh… War, right…" He paused for a second, writing a few more notes on the chalkboard, "Anyone have any news?"

Finland looked up from his spot besides Russia, "Sweden was invaded and conquered." He explained, a solemn tone to his voice. "He wanted to be neutral. He didn't even want to be a part of all of this." Finland explained.

The other allies looked on with pity. "How are you holding up?" Canada asked.

Finland looked back down at the table, "Russia's soldiers have been helpful, but I'm worried I won't be able to last much longer. They're moving too quickly; I can't keep up with it."

There was a brief moment of silence. America coughed, writing something else on his chalkboard, "So… any other news?"

"Germany sent forces to attack, but thanks to Sadiq's soldiers, we've been barely managing for the time being." Greece explained.

Turkey snorted, "Don't rely on that lasting much longer. If England doesn't stop bombing me, I'm not going to last the week."

America frowned, scanning the room once to see who was left. The only nations that had managed to stay neutral, save Switzerland and Liechtenstein, had been the South American nations. Even nations like Australia and New Zealand had been forced to send soldiers to one side or another, despite how much they seemed to dislike being involved.

Russia looked at Turkey, "I would offer to send some soldiers, but Iraq and Iran are in the way. My soldiers wouldn't survive the trip."

The room went silent once again. America sighed, "Any other news?"

Turkey snapped, "This whole damn situation is hopeless." Turkey slammed his fist on the table, "Why the fuck are we even still fighting? It's obvious we can't win this. All that we've done is gotten our citizens killed."

There was another awkward silence. No one bothered denying what Turkey said.

"I think," China began, "We should adjourn this meeting."

"Agreed." Turkey replied, grabbing his papers and walking out of the meeting room, Greece close behind him.

All the other nations filed out quickly, leaving America alone in the room. He leaned his head against the chalkboard. It couldn't be hopeless… it just couldn't…

It felt like they were immortal.

"Portugal's refused to join up with us." England explained, "So I invaded her. Spain helped out a fair amount."

"Ve, did you take her over yet?" Veneziano asked, idly poking at his brother's hair curl. "She's so pretty, I'd love to get a chance to see her vital regions…"

Japan blushed at Veneziano's forward way of speaking, while Spain just laughed it off. "Feli's so cute! When Portugal surrenders we'll let you have some fun with her." He laughed, swinging an arm around Romano, much to the Italian's annoyance, "It'll be nice to finally take down that bitch." Spain said in a voice far too happy for the current situation.

Romano frowned, like usual, and swatted his brother's hand away from his curl, "Potato bastard, you sure it was a good idea to break the pact with Russia and his crazy sisters?" He asked, "I heard they joined up with the allies."

Germany nodded, "We never intended to keep it. The Soviet Union is too unstable for their own good, staying allied was never a plan in the first place."

Romano scoffed, turning to Japan to talk about some random topic.

England smiled, listening to his fellow Axis countries talk amongst themselves. He had hesitated at the beginning, and now it was hard to even think of being against them. Working with the Axis gave him power and allowed him to finally do everything he had wanted to without any worry.

He felt safe and powerful, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Suddenly, England felt a surge of pain through his chest. He gasped, slipping out of his chair and desperately clutching his chest.

Within seconds, the other Axis countries were around him. Japan handed England a glass of water, and Germany placed a hand on his shoulder.

"England, are you all right?" Germany asked.

England took a couple of deep breaths, "My chest… it's hurting, but none of my cities are being bombed…" He took a sip of water, trying to steady his breathing.

"Ah, I should've warned you about that…" Germany apologized.

England raised an eyebrow and glared at the German, "What?" He hissed.

"The concentration camps. It's all a part of purifying the human race, England." Germany explained.

England took another sip of water, "Then why the hell is my chest hurting?"

"Because people are dying. This happened to all of us." Germany explained, rubbing England's back soothingly. England looked up, seeing the other nations nodding.

"England-san, it really is for the better." Japan explained. The other Axis countries chimed in with their opinions.

England took a deep breath and nodded. Secretly, he thought that they sounded straight out of a propaganda book, and for the first time in a while, he wondered if they were really right.

"Mr. Jones? You have a visitor." America's secretary, a busty woman who's name escaped him, opened his door and knocked on the frame.

America frowned for a second, trying to think of who would visit him. He'd spoken to Canada earlier today, and usually his brother wouldn't even have to get his secretary to let him in. England was out as well, as the two weren't exactly on good terms. France was out as well, the nation being under England's control.

America gave one of his prize-winning smiles, "Send him in."

The secretary blushed slightly, "All right, Mr. Braginski, you can come in."

America raised an eyebrow at this. Russia, or rather, the Soviet Union, coming over to his house? Well, America supposed, they were allies, even if Ivan was a communist.

Russia walked inside, and instantly all the color drained from Alfred's face.

"Holy fuck Ivan! What happened to you?" America yelled, running over to the taller nation.

Russia coughed, giving a weak smile. His entire coat was drenched with blood, most of it looking like his own. The Slavic nation seemed even paler than usual, and his face had a long scar going diagonally across it.

Even his scarf was stained with blood.

"America." Russia acknowledged, before coughing a mouthful of blood onto the carpet.

Alfred cringed, grabbing Russia's arm and dragging him over to a couch. He sat the nation down, "Ivan…" He said, putting his hand on the other nation's shoulder, "What happened?"

Ivan looked at him, childish smile slowly fading, "I… I can't do this anymore." Tears had appeared at the corner of Russia's eyes, and America didn't even know how to react, "Japan is invading me from the east, Germany and England are sending troops from the west… They took over Turkey and Greece already, and I couldn't afford to keep sending troops to Finland…"

America bit his lip, "Hey man… You're a big nation, you can make it through this."

Russia looked at the ground, "Nyet… My scorched ground policy is destroying all of my cities. I can't go on like this, America…"

"Russia, you're one of the only ones left! You have to stay with us! England will win otherwise!" America pleaded.

Russia looked back up at America; "In order for me and my sisters to stay alive you have to do something for us… America, you have to annex us for our safety."

America's eyes widened, "Russia… I can't do that! I mean-"

"Please, America, you have to." Russia replied, "We'll surrender easily. China wishes to make the same deal with you."

America glared at the ground. This was all England's fault. England was the one who turned his ally into a poor, miserable mess.

He clenched his fist, "I'll return all your land to you when the war is over, I swear…"

"Just… promise me you'll take good care of my sisters, da?"

"I promise. We'll win this war, I swear we will…" America put his hand on Russia's shoulder, "The Atom Bomb… It's almost ready. I'll drop it as soon as it's ready…"

March 1, 1943 – United States of America annexes The Soviet Union and China.

Living with four extra people in his house had been different, but Alfred had ended up adapting fairly quickly. Besides, it wasn't as if he even saw his houseguests all too much, unless their scientists were helping with the development of the Atom Bomb.

Russia was normally in his room, and Belarus was always close to him. Ukraine still wasn't speaking to Russia after the Famine-Genocide, but she ended up talking to Canada a fair amount, much to America's surprise. China also remained in his room, most of the time.

They had kept their word and surrendered as soon as America invaded their land. No American soldiers had been lost.

America sighed, leaning back in his chair. Some days, it seemed as if the war would never end, that the bomb would never be finished. There hadn't been any good news for months, and the bad news had a bad habit of getting worse by the minute. Russia had been surprisingly helpful during the entire process, America noted. At least, he was helpful as soon as the invasions had slowed down and he had a chance to recover slightly.

America picked up his pen, trying to finish some of his paperwork. No luck. There was too much going through his head to focus on it for even a single second.

Would they ever finish the Atom Bomb? Could they ever finish the Atom Bomb? The tests were driving America insane. What if England or Germany managed to make a perfect one before him? They'd bomb him and ruin all of his progress… And then what? They'd take him over and there'd be no one left to stop the Axis. The entire world would fall…

America was broken out of his thoughts by the phone ringing. He sighed again, picking it up. "Alfred F. Jones speaking." He was so tired of all of this.

"America," Russia replied. "We have some very good news down at the lab. You might want to come down here soon."

America's eyes widened, "Wait, do you mean they…?"

"Da." Russia replied, "The most recent test was a success. We're ready to head out on your command."

America clenched the pen in his hand, breaking it and spilling ink all over his hand, "We'll head out immediately. Don't drop the bomb until I say the word. If we can get him to surrender, then we won't need to."

"Understood, America." Russia hung up the phone after that. It was time to end this, America thought.

August 3, 1944 – American invasion of Britain.

"Have you ever felt that what we're doing is wrong?" England asked, looking through his bookshelf.

Germany looked up from a thick book, raising a blond eyebrow, "Why would you be thinking that?" He asked.

England sighed, resting his hand on one of the various translated propaganda books Germany had given him. He had thought putting his people in concentration camps would help him, but it had only succeeded in making him feel weaker and weaker by the second. Topping that off with all the soldiers he had lost fighting various battles all across Europe and it left a beaten and bruised nation.

Germany sighed, "You know it's for the best, England. The only citizens you're losing are the imperfect ones. Once we finish purifying the human race, you'll feel better. We'll have left only the strong ones in our wake."

England looked at the ground. He'd heard it so many times before, and all those times he'd believed it. Yet… He couldn't help but hesitate now. The strain on his body had been excruciating, and the nations he and the other Axis had conquered weren't doing too much better.

Ludwig continued spouting out information on why the Aryan race was perfect, but England found himself not able to listen for more than a few minutes.

He knew it should've been right, he should've believed every word that came out of Germany's mouth, but he couldn't help but question it now. He was in so much pain from the death of his citizens…

For the first time, he felt the pain of the other nations, the ones who they had invaded and crushed under their palms. All the money and resources in the world couldn't heal the pain coming from his citizens, whether it was Jews, gays, gypsies, or the handicap.

He thought that killing them would've strengthened him, not the opposite.

"It's the right thing to do." Germany finished, just as someone flung the door opened.

Instantly, both blond men stared at the doorway. The messenger was panting, grasping the doorframe desperately.

"American planes have been spotted above us." He gasped, "We're worried they may have nuclear weapons."

England immediately stood up and pushed the messenger out of the way, walking out the door quickly. If that was true than Arthur knew he'd end up having to fight America, just like he had during the revolution.

He sighed, hoping this time he'd be able to shoot.

It had felt as if the plane ride would take forever.

America could only remember fighting with England once before, and that had been for his freedom. It felt so different fighting for someone else's, and yet America knew he had to do it. If not for his sake than for the rest of the world's.

"Mr. Jones? We've spotted him."

America turned towards his pilot. "Is Ivan in place?" He asked, looking out the window.

The pilot nodded, "Mr. Braginski is ready to drop the bomb at any second on your command."

America nodded and motioned for the pilot to land the plane. He took a deep breath. This was going to be the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

England couldn't help but feel something was different this time.

The man that stood in front of him wasn't his former colony anymore. At least, not the former colony England had come to expect.

Alfred's eyes weren't filled with that blind optimism he was known for. When England looked him straight in the eye, he didn't see any gleam of hope for that happy ending Alfred had always talked about.

His eyes were that of a killer, a killer colder than a Siberian winter.

They had been in this situation before, but this time it was different. Before it had been so easy to put down his musket at the last minute, to allow America to flourish as his own nation.

In his mind, England went back to that time, trying to pretend none of this had ever happened. He tried to think of a time before he signed that treaty with Germany and his psychotic boss, before America was forced to annex China and Russia for their protection, before England had that symbol—that vile, evil symbol—sewn onto the side of his uniform. He regretted it all, from abusing France to invading Poland, from forcing his citizens into death camps to making formerly powerful nations get down on their hands and knees and beg for his mercy.

The thing he regretted most was trusting Germany for even a second.

In his mind, if he could've put himself back into that time, back when all he had to deal with was America's rebellion, England almost thought he could trick himself into believing that putting down his musket would solve everything.

It was different this time, though, and England knew it. The revolution seemed smaller than a schoolyard brawl when he compared it to this. The bayonets and muskets that had caused so many deaths way back when seemed like toothpicks when compared to the atom bombs England knew America was ready to drop at any second.

The difference was that someone had to die. England knew it, and he knew America knew it.

Despite any feelings he might've felt for America, parental or brotherly, England knew he had to get the first shot in. He had to kill America before America could kill him.

But in the end, despite it all, England ended up collapsing onto his knees, just like the time before.

I'm sorry…

This time, there was no kind voice telling him to 'come home'.

When England looked up, there was no carefree smile assuring him that despite everything that had happened, things would be okay. He hadn't seen a hand extended to help him, either.

All he ended up seeing was a uniform stained with blood, a gun pressed to his temple, and a nation not showing any sign of mercy in his eyes.

England closed his eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, America will take mercy on him, just like he had done so many years before.

"Ivan, drop the bomb."

He waited for the mercy that never came.

August 12, 1944 – America drops the Atom Bomb on England.

After England fell, the other Axis countries weren't far behind.

America allowed Russia and China to declare independence as soon as the risk of England attacking was considered no longer a possibility.

When Russian soldiers came into Europe from the east and American soldiers came from the west, country after country had the Nazi occupation chased out. Even countries that had been Russia and America's enemies ended up finding themselves clutching the nations they feared for so long, filled with nothing but gratitude.

October 21, 1944 – Soviet-American liberation of the Baltic countries.

November 19, 1944 – Canadian-American liberation of Holland.

November 28, 1944 – Soviet liberation of Finland.

It wasn't difficult to defeat the other Axis Powers, not after they had lost their most valuable member. Chinese and Russian soldiers had quickly invaded Japan, and while it had been a long, brutal fight, one filled with so many casualties, eventually Japan surrendered.

December 30, 1944 – Japan surrenders to Chinese and Soviet forces.

When they managed to track down the Italies, their innocent façade was gone, replaced by the harsh fighters everyone had known was hiding all along.

When they had cornered Feliciano in an alleyway in Venice and told him to surrender or die, he had spat in their eyes, yelling "Vaffanculo!" at the top of his lungs.

Romano and Spain had both fought just as hard. The territory they had occupied had been split between neighbouring countries.

January 28, 1945 – Spain and Italy dissolved.

It didn't take long until they managed to attack Germany from every side, forcing the blond nation to surrender finally.

There had been a lot of talk as to what should happen to the blond nation, especially after information about the concentration camps was revealed to the public.

Eventually, Germany had been put under Switzerland's control, it having been one of the only countries able to remain neutral during the entire ordeal, as well it being one of the few countries that was trusted to never to be swayed to one side or another.

There had been joy across the globe as former Nazi generals were executed. America could only stand and watch as the entire world was slowly freed from the forces it had seemed doomed to endure for eternity.

August 12, 1954

America smiled slightly, taking a sip of whiskey from a flask and basking in the warm summer weather. The flask itself had been a gift from England, before things had gone sour so many years before.

Ten years, America reminded himself. Ten years since he had dropped the Atom Bomb on London, and affectively ended the war.

There had been a lot of talk about what they should've done with the land England had occupied, and eventually most of it had been split between Ireland, Wales, and Scotland, while most of his former colonies had been allowed to declare independence.

America sighed, drinking for memory of the country he used to know. Ultimately, he didn't even know whether or not he was even happy because of it. So many countries had been destroyed because of what he did… but at the same time, so many countries had been saved.

It felt as if he was finally the hero he had always dreamed of being.

"Your summers are always so warm…" America jumped when he heard a familiar Russian voice come from behind him. It never ceased to surprise him just how well the larger man could sneak up on him. "Some parts of Russia never get this warm, even in the summer."

America smiled weakly, putting down his flask and turning towards Russia. "You haven't been around here in a while."

Russia nodded, "I decided to stop by and see how you were doing, comrade." He replied, playing with the end of his scarf. "After all, today is a special day, isn't it?"

America only looked at the ground in response.

America put a hand on America's shoulder, pulling a bottle out from his coat with the other, "Cheer up, comrade. I brought you some good quality vodka to commemorate the event." He placed the bottle on the table.

America grunted, "Thanks Ivan…" He replied.

Russia sighed, sitting down beside him. "It was the right thing to do, da? No one blames you for it, America. He was out of control, you know this."

He sighed, "I know… It's just…" Alfred trailed off, picking his flask up again and taking another swig.

The two sat there in silence for a few minutes, with Alfred taking more sips of whiskey and Ivan resting his hand on America's shoulder.

"On that note, the Soviet Union has a proposition to make." Russia explained.

America raised an eyebrow, "And what would that be?" He asked.

Ivan smiled, "We are aware you have been making efforts to send men into space, and the Soviet Union shares similar goals." He explained, "As such, my boss has requested I come and propose our countries work together to send someone to the moon."

America gave a small smile. He had wanted to go into space for a while… And Ivan did have a space program that, while not as good as his own, was still decent.

Besides, Soviet-American relations had been better than ever since the war had ended. Maybe it was a good time to move on from the war. America hadn't managed to do much since the war ended, and that had been one of the things he regretted most of all. There had been so much rebuilding; it had been hard to focus on the future.

He smiled, "I'll do it." He replied.

Russia's smile brightened. He pulled a flask out of one of his coat pockets and opened the top up. "This is very good news, da?" He held the flask up, "To fallen nations." He began, "And to our new future."

America smiled and held his flask up to Russia's, "To our new future."