Summary: France delivered a sharp blow to the face of the crying boy below him. "Stop crying! You have no right to cry! You belong to me!" Nothing would stop France from taking what he wanted, not even the child's young age. England belonged to France! Warning: Child Abuse/Rape! Slight use of human names. #1 in HAU series! Read A/N for more on the series.

Disclaimer: I don not own Hetalia Axis Powers. I wish I did though.

**England's House, North London, England**

England lay in bed, tossing in his sleep. Beside him America lay peacefully oblivious, as of yet, to the awful memories that tormented England even in his dreams.

**Dream/Memory Start**

The first time it happened, England cried. It was long ago, in England's childhood. He was taken care of by his Big Brother France. England had loved France and was happy to do anything his brother asked of him. Then, things changed. England was about 200 years old (his body the human age of thirteen) when it happened the first time. France wanted to share his room with England since England had been having bad dreams lately. Everyone else in France's house was asleep but France and little England.

"Big Brother France, why did you lock the door?" England asked curiously as he sat on his brother's bed, watching as France moved towards him.

"No reason, mon petite L'Angleterre. I just don't want anyone interrupting tonight." A predatory smile spread across France's face and it scared England.

"Interrupt what big brother? I don't understand." England began to scoot farther back on the bed, away from France.

"Mon petite lapin, you and I are going to play a game together. Won't that be fun?" France moved onto the bed, reaching for England's nightgown to pull him close.

"I-I don't want to play a game r-right now brother!" England cried, trying to pull away from France who had successfully pulled him onto his lap. France's grip was strong and he refused to let go of little England, even as England thrashed and struggled. France's hand reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a length of rope. Before England could flee, France had England's small arms tied behind his back. Once France had England securely tied, his long-fingered hands moved up the smaller boy's legs, slowly pushing up the light cotton nightgown England wore. England struggled against the bonds that held him and tried to move away from France's groping hands as best he could. A sharp slap to his face made the boy be still for a moment.

"Stop that!" France commanded as his hands resumed their exploration. "Be good or I'll make it hurt even more. We wouldn't want that, now would we mon petite lapin?" England's face was pushed into the mattress. He was scared and didn't know what was happening. 'Why is big brother doing this?' England thought as he began to cry. France noticed the sobbing and delivered another harsh slap, this time to the boy's backside.

"Don't cry! You are NOT allowed to cry when I am playing with you! You belong to me, do you understand? You belong to me and I can do whatever I want to you. You will do as I say and be still. If you'd stop struggling so much you might enjoy it, non?" France smirked lustily down at his charge. The small body below him quivered in fright and repressed sobs racked the small one's body. France had wanted the child for so long. He had meant to wait for the boy to grow older before taking him, but the nightmares England had been having gave him the perfect opportunity. Spain and Prussia hadn't waited for their charges to get any older, so why should he? It didn't matter that he was using force. Spain always had to use force on his little Romano. Prussia had even had to use torture on his little play thing to make him forget the Italy twin he had been so infatuated with. Although the torture had backfired slightly and caused Holy Rome to forget everything, but Prussia didn't really seem to care about that. He could live with this new 'Germany' that had replaced Holy Rome.

France's arousal grew as he thought of what he was going to do to the child below him. Every time he looked into the emerald eyes of the island nation he was consumed by the insatiable urge to have the boy. And why shouldn't he? After all, England belonged to France. The boy was his to do with as he wished. France, once again, resumed his touching of England's small body, raising the nightgown to get a better view of the boy's lower body.

England began to sob and struggle again as France's fingers drifted to his backside, spreading the plump pink cheeks. France chose to ignore the negative responses he got from the smaller nation. He didn't care if England enjoyed it or not, France was going to get what he wanted one way or another. Nothing else mattered. France raised the front of his own nightgown and took his arousal in one had, forcing it into the small body beneath him. England screamed in pain, the sound muffled by the mattress as his face was forced down. He was having trouble breathing through the thick fabric now covering his face.

The whole time France used him, England was crying and screaming and struggling to get away. It was wrong! It hurt! England didn't understand why his big brother, who he loved, would do this to him. This wasn't love! France didn't have the right to do this to him! England felt the blood seep out of his abused backside when France had finished with him. It dripped from inside of him, mixed with other bodily liquids that he refused to think of. They burned his torn, already pained insides as some of the mixture continued to coat his used orifice.

France untied the boy's arms and leaned over to kiss the small face, but England moved away and turned so he faced away from the man he once called his big brother. Pulling down the skirt of his nightgown, England got off the bed and, unsteadily, ran from the room, forcing the lock open and throwing the door closed behind him. England ran until he couldn't move and fell to the ground in a heap. Tears ran down his face, and pain shot through England's small body. All the love he had once felt for France drained from England's body and was replaced with a new, before unknown feeling. It was hate. England embraced this new feeling, identifying it at once. He hated France now. He would hate France forever.

**Dream/Memory End**

England woke up in a cold sweat. Tears had dried on his face. Looking around, trying to shake the fuzziness from his mind, England saw the cause of his awakened state. His American lover sat beside him, face worried and uncertain. "What is it Alfred?" England asked shakily as America opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, then closed it again. America looked concerned and unsure of what to say. It was odd to see the younger nation so quiet and serious.

"What were you dreaming about Arthur? You were crying and tossing and your face looked in pain. I was really worried when I woke up and you were like that. It took forever to get you to wake up!"America peered down at his older lover.

"It was nothing. I'm fine. Just a dream now...Just a dream." England tried to sound reassuring, but failed. America shifted closer to the Brit and wrapped his arms around the smaller nation lovingly.

" Whatever it was, it's over now. I won't let anything happen to you Arthur...England. I love you so much and I promise I'll protect you. So...don't be scared, okay? I'm here now." America murmured softly in England's ear, his tone soothing. England turned and nuzzled his face in America's chest, breathing deeply, quiet sobs escaping him. America just held onto his lover until the sobbing ended, just being there for the one he loved in the only way he could. America was scared to know what had caused the normally stoic and unbreakable nation to come apart like this.

"I love you Alfred...thank you...," England's voice trailed off at the end as a more peaceful sleep claimed him. America held onto England even after the shorter man had been asleep for a long time, terrified that if he let go the horrifying dreams would resurface. As America watched his England sleep, he pondered the words England had cried out in his dreams earlier. The words tinged with so much venom and truly terrifying implications. The words that made America so afraid to know what England had been dreaming. The words England cried out in pain every time he had this nightmare, or one similar to it. Those words made him think about possibilities he'd never wanted to imagine. England never told him what the nightmares were, other than that they were just memories he'd rather have forgotten, but America could guess. These memories were the reason for the cold glares aimed toward, the blatant hostility at, the never ceasing string of insults about, and the refusal to be alone with a certain nation they all knew. America knew those memories killed England inside, and it hurt him not to be able to help. He was the hero after all. He should be able to help and protect the one he loved most, even from his own memories. Right? England shifted closer in his sleep, face still peaceful. America sighed and snuggled down next to his lover, letting sleep take him, even as he let those words replay over and over in his head. Someday, he'd be able to save England from those memories. Someday, England would tell him what the ones that haunted him so much were. Someday, America would be ready to know. As America's eyes drifted shut, he didn't notice the emerald orbs watching him from below blond lashes. England watched the one he loved fall asleep, thinking of the words he knew he had said during his dream, the very same words America had been thinking about while England pretended to sleep.

'I hate you France!'

**The End**

Read A/N! Important!

Translations:

Mon petite lapin: my little rabbit

non: no

mon petite L'Angleterre: my little England

A/N: Pretty dark, I think. Yes, I did imply that Prussia and Spain sexually and physically abused Germany/HRE and Romano. I know that would never happen, but my mind wouldn't let it go until I wrote that down. This is kind of a background story for the reason that England hates France. In my story's universe, England was taken care of by France until he was about 14 (in human years/body wise), at which time England was able to free himself from French rule. In my head England is five, but due to the rules regarding fanfiction posting and underage sex, I have written the age as about 13 (the age of consent in Japan, just FYI). Just know that the abuse was meant to have started when England was (body wise) five. US X UK is an established relationship in this story. They live together and shift between England's house in London and America's house in Washington D.C.. England never told anyone what France did to him. Neither did Romano and Germany (for their respective caretaker). England refuses to be alone with France under any circumstances and pretends France isn't in the room at meetings and such or only acknowledges France's presence to insult or glare at him. America suspects the reasons behind this due to the reoccurring nightmares England has about the abuse and the fact that England talks during his dreams. The reason England tends to forget about Canada is linked to his hatred for France. England took Canada from France to save him from having to go through what he did, but blocks Canada out subconsciously, because Canada looks so much like France ( his (as in Canada's) father. No idea who the mother is, but its not England!). Also, this takes place in the same universe as Happy Birthday, but set, I think, sometime before that fic. Check it out, its Canada-centric and dark/angsty. Also, as a victim of sexual molestation as a child, I mean no offense to any other persons who have suffered through it. Please don't feel offended. Please review and tell me what you think. ^-^