This chapter was partly inspired by the dream I had last night. Those damn falling dreams get me every time! Have you guys ever had those dreams? They freaking suck!

Anyways... Enjoy Ch.5 and I obviously don't own Hetalia. If I did... oh God bad things would happen... bad things...

Germany felt himself falling, but he was too weak to do anything about it; he was paralyzed and helpless as the warm air whirring around him suddenly turned icy. He couldn't twitch his fingers, couldn't open his eyes and even as the air nipped at him relentlessly the throbbing sensation of the blade seemed to overpower all physical feeling. All he seemed to have left was the torrent of inexplicable questions that plagued his thoughts and the surge of uncontrollable emotion that threatened to consume him. Above all else he felt fear; the one thing he had locked away for so many years in the depths of his heart was finally beginning to grow and blossom.

The sound of air whizzing past Germany seemed to soften as the throbbing sensation grew more and more intense; the excruciating pain he was experiencing seemed to double, then triple, as if the fragile emotional state he was in wasn't enough. There was agony on both sides; mental and physical torment seemed to merge into one immense orb of heavenly fire that was falling with great speed towards the limitless unknown.

Then before he could prepare, before he could brace himself, he slammed into something flat and rock-solid. He felt the shock of impact and, much like those frightful dreams where you fall and as your body hits the ground you jump out of bed, Ludwig jolted upwards out of his permanent slumber and back into the world he so suddenly left behind.

His brilliant blue eyes flicked open and he felt his body jerk upwards in an automatic response to the sensation of impact. Even the strong ex-nation couldn't suppress the shriek of surprise; he felt like he should be splattered across the ground and as he tried to get a hold of his bearings he noticed to much relief that he was still in one piece. He gasped for breath and the arms that were so neatly crossed over his chest fell to his sides. He felt fabric underneath his fingers and gripped the material roughly as he continued to pant, taking in all the oxygen he could manage.

His vision was too blurry to make out anything clearly and instantly fear began to convolute his reality. He felt hot breath against his face and stiffened letting his imagination conjure up all the evils that could possibly exist in his messed up world. He skittered backwards only to hit his head painfully on what seemed to be concrete. He groaned in discomfort and sat there in silence; the only sound was his shallow and incessant wheezing along with the soft and rhythmic breathing of the figure in front of him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his vision began to clear and he could make out the soft glow of candles casting a faint and delicate light over his surroundings. He felt the cool chill of air, stagnant and damp, brush across his face and he shivered lightly. Besides the candlelight the room was dark, and even with fuzzy vision, the ominous atmosphere of the icy and shadowy space reminded Germany of a dungeon.

As soon as his eye-sight was mostly back to normal Germany was able to make out the forest green uniform and dirty blonde hair of his British adversary. England was leaning over him, straddling him awkwardly; he was obviously unconscious by the way he was sprawled across the German, eyes closed and breathing relaxed, but even then Germany saw Arthur had a tight relentless grip on something. The hilt of the dagger glinted dangerously, reflecting the little light the candles were producing; just seeing the blade imbedded in his stomach made the light throbbing sensation return and Ludwig gritted his teeth in discomfort.

Being German, Ludwig reacted defensively to England's position over him and pushed the Brit off roughly. The table-like structure he was resting upon was relatively small and after Arthur had slipped off of him Ludwig heard the sound of his head making contact with the hard floor below. There was a loud groan as the blow must have woken him up, and then a soft shuffling sound as he tried to regain his bearings.

Germany quickly gripped the knife with one hand and, to much relief, it easily slid out of him. He threw the blade away from him quickly before lying down and pressing his fingers against the wound. He felt a sharp pricking sensation and lifted his other hand only to find two dry and delicate roses, each with a small ribbon perfectly tied around each stem. The room was so dark, but he thought he could make out the red white and green of Italy's flag and the regal German eagle that stood out against the white background of his brother's.

He clenched his eyes shut and rolled onto his side; just the sight of their flags made his heart ache and, regardless of the thorns, his grip on the two flowers only tightened. He felt tears escape his closed eyes and despite his constant need to be strong and intimidating he didn't wipe them away.

"Germany…?" He felt a warm breath puff across his cold face and he stiffened. The voice was followed by a small poking sensation as a finger pressed lightly against his cheek. His eyes quickly opened and instantly his bright aqua orbs widened at the sight of a face inches from his own. He stifled a scream and fought the urge to instinctively lash out with his fist. It was America; his spectacled face was tilted slightly, his deep blue eyes wide with concern.

If Germany wasn't scared out of his mind he could have described America's shift in expression as almost comical; his deep focused appearance softened as a smile slowly spread across his young features, gradually widening until his strait white teeth seemed to stretch across his entire face. All Germany could do was lie there, his eyes still wide and mouth agape in shock. America was the first to speak.

"Who ever said magic doesn't exist?" he breathed softly. He noticed Germany's tear-filled eyes begin to quiver; Fear? Sadness? Anger? The American couldn't say. "You're okay," he whispered, trying to calm the distressed German much like he would soothe a young child; he knew Germany didn't like being treated this way, but he looked so lost and confused that America couldn't help it.

"America, I once again screwed things up," he heard Britain groan from somewhere on the floor; he obviously didn't realize that Germany had woken up and America laughed lightly. "What's so funny you bloody git?!" He hissed.

"I think it might have worked," America muttered, his eyes still locked with Germany's.

"What!?" Britain gasped as he practically bolted up off the ground. He rubbed his head and eyed the two others carefully. He saw Germany's blue eyes flick over to him and England sighed in relief. "Thank God!" He yelled.

"He doesn't look too ecstatic though," the American warned not even caring that Germany was right in front of him.

"Back away from him then you wanker!" England groaned. "I wouldn't be too happy either if I woke up to your blithering face!" America whined in protest but backed away further.

"It's not my fault that someone who's been dead for over three weeks suddenly wakes up and I am slightly interested," he muttered before adjusting his glasses and crossing his arms stubbornly.

England took a few steps forward to inspect the German more clearly. He noticed immediately that something had gone wrong. Even in the dark the German's skin seemed to glow with a slight luminosity. It wasn't extraordinarily prominent, but it was unnatural all the same; the dark black military jacket he was wearing seemed to accentuate this feature. His eyes were a more striking shade of blue, if that was even possible, and pierced through the dark like reflectors. His already attractive features looked perfect and even in his horrified and traumatized state his sharp jaw line and straight nose gave him an intimidating and powerful disposition.

"Britain," Germany murmured after noticing the former pirate staring him down. "What did you do to me?" His voice was shaky but even then it sounded different; still deep and commanding, but different… England couldn't explain it. Even America noticed this and his head cocked to the side.

"What the hell happened to you?" Alfred questioned before turning to his brother. "England, what did you do to him?"

"I-I don't know," he mumbled. "Things didn't go as planned," he looked back at America. "What did you see?"

"Well you were sitting on top of him doing your spell thing until you were unconscious and then all of a sudden you stabbed him. You said you needed to do it for the spell to work. Then there was a bright flash of light and he woke up... just like that," America paused when he saw Germany sit back up and rub his head, taking in Alfred's words.

"What do you mean spell?" The German questioned, first looking at America then shifting his cold gaze to England. He sounded more composed as curiosity and frustration seemed to replace his fear. He had always been good at this, hiding all emotions that could possibly make him appear weak and vulnerable. "Explain. Now," he said forcefully, glaring at Britain as he was obviously the one responsible. England gave America a pleading look and Alfred cleared his throat, trying to help his brother.

"Well you see," America began, eyeing the German. "You were kinda dead—"

"No shit!" Germany yelled and the American jumped in surprise. Britain let out a sigh and rubbed his face with his hand.

"America, now would be a good time to shut your mouth," the Brit murmured. He looked at the German thoughtfully. "Germany, you've been out for over three weeks and in that time Europe has been falling apart." He paused and looked at Ludwig's horrified expression. "I thought the only way I could fix it was if… if you came back." His large green eyes were filled with sincerity and he shuffled around uncomfortably waiting for Germany to yell like he always did. Instead he was met with a calm and collected voice.

"How? How did you do it?" Germany's eyes looked distressed, but he managed to keep his demeanor reserved. England walked over to another small table and grabbed a thick leather bound book. He shut it carefully and held it up for the German to see.

"It's a spell book," he said and saw Ludwig's eyebrows rise in curiosity. "I was lucky to come across the page, but when I did, I knew it would be of some use to me. A revival spell; It was supposed to bring you back to life."

"Why did you attack me with a knife then?!" Just the thought made Germany's voice rise in frustration.

"The spell book gave me clear instructions," Britain said. He rubbed his index finger lightly over the pages until he found the bookmark. He handed it to Germany, and out of curiosity he grabbed it and examined it for himself. Sure enough the book discussed everything that England had done; the knife, the stabbing, everything. The thought that such a spell existed made Ludwig shudder.

"Where did you get this book?" He whispered and Britain sighed.

"It doesn't matter," he quickly tore it out of Germany's grasp and set it back down on the table. "Now you know that I did it for a good reason," He shuffled around nervously before he told Germany the truth. "I don't think it worked though."

"And why would you say that?" Ludwig asked, slightly irritated by the vague statement.

"You still look like you did… before," he tried to find the words but he didn't want to make the German even more irritated. He pointed upwards and Germany immediately understood. His hands immediately went to his face and then to his hair; he didn't even know what he looked like, but if it was noticeable to Britain it was a definite issue.

"Hey well at least you don't look bad!" America piped in with his usual optimism. Both nation's sent glares in his direction.

"I didn't do the spell right." England murmured. "You were supposed to be back to your normal self. You still look like a freaking angel."

Germany thought for a second, trying to feel the warmth of his land and his people; there was nothing. His head bowed in sadness and he tried again; still as he so desperately wanted to feel the life his people brought him, the only thing he felt inside was coldness. Britain was right; he was still dead, and the very thought made him bury his face in his hands.

"I don't feel anything," he whispered and the other countries looked down upon his depressed hunched over form with sympathy. "Where did all of my people go…?" he breathed as he fought the tears that threatened to spill over his eyes.

"Germany…" England said now suddenly saddened by Ludwig's suffering. "I'm going to fix it. I promise. Just give me a little time. There has got to be a spell in here somewhere."

"Just think of it this way!" America said cheerfully. "At least you're here! And maybe you can see your friends and family again. I'm sure lots of people miss you; Italy and Prussia especially! Don't worry Germany, I'm the hero and I will make sure this gets resolved!" Germany didn't know whether or not to punch the egocentric nation or thank him. Yes, he could see his family again. Italy… he could see Italy again. He wanted so desperately just to get out of here and find the Italian; and hold him close… and never let go…

"Thank you," his thoughts of Italy got the best of him. This was the second chance he so desperately begged for and despite his emptiness he couldn't help but feel extremely grateful.

"Hey!" England shrieked. "I'm the one who brought your bloody ass back here! Why are you thanking him!?" Germany looked over at England and did the thing that neither nation saw coming. He genuinely smiled.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Now, you have a choice Germany," America said after they made their way out of England's basement. They were sitting down on one of the Brit's large sofas and, after taking a few minutes to let everything that had happened sink in, they began discussing their options. "Where would you like to stay?"

"I want to go home and see Prussia," Germany said. "I want to talk to him." England and America exchanged a nervous glance.

"I don't think that's a good idea." America replied. "You know Russia has taken over your land. If he ever found out—"

"I don't care. I want to see my bruder," Germany interrupted.

"Listen, Russia has your brother," England said and the German seemed to deflate. "He's been forced to move in with that wretched psychopath, probably just for his amusement… sick bastard."

"What I meant was you have a choice between living with me or my brother," America clarified. To Germany, both options seemed like guaranteed torture, and he wanted to tell America 'No way in hell', but he kept quiet.

"Until I get this fixed and you are a country again, I don't think seeing anyone else is a very good idea," England muttered, filling Ludwig with sadness. "Don't you think it's a little bit risky?" He asked and America instantly agreed.

"Yeah especially looking like that!" He yelled. Germany instantly fumed.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" He countered angrily.

"Well you look really different! That's all!" America huffed before adding quietly, "I thought you looked attractive before but…Dayuhm!" The nation chuckled jokingly and Germany tried with all his might to reach over England and pound that American bastard to dust.

"America, you idiot!" England hissed as he struggled to push the fuming German away. "Keep your Goddamn mouth shut!"

"It was supposed to be a compliment!"

"Keep your bloody compliments to yourself then!" He shrieked.

Germany huffed and crossed his arms after his failed attempt at kicking America's ass. "So what am I supposed to do, just sit here and wait?" he asked crossly.

"Well let's just try and get this figured out first, okay?" England asked impatiently. Germany nodded. "If this doesn't get figured out in a few weeks we can make other arrangements."

"So whose it gonna be?" America asked.

Great I have a choice between the McDonald consuming idiot and the tea sipping, spell casting bastard, Germany thought to himself. Both of them are annoying as hell!

"If you are staying with me, I'm sorry to say I'm gonna be out most of the time," America admitted. "I'm fighting your war you know…" Germany leaned over England and placed a hand on the American's shoulder in utmost seriousness.

"When are we leaving?" He asked. America smiled widely and the Brit gritted his teeth.

"Ungrateful wanker," he hissed.

Germany and America were out the door as soon as possible, leaving England all alone to flip through his spell book.

Now let the adventures of living dead Germany begin! And the GerIta! In all honesty if I woke up to America's face staring at me, I think I would be pleasantly surprised ;) And it's so hard to write these chapters since we all know the countries are going to be arguing the whole time!

Please don't be afraid to leave comments, and suggestions, criticism, and awesome ideas (Like level Prussia awesome)! I am currently sick so reading them would prove to be quite entertaining and I could quite possibly find the inspiration necessary to write another chapter. Thank you guys for reading! I recognize and appreciate every viewer!

Good day!