England grasped his head with both hands as he stumbled up the staircase from the basement, still dressed in his robe. He moaned quietly in pain as the spell started to take effect. His breath came in short rasps and his stomach felt like it was moving, churning, and he held it before falling against the door heavily, moaning louder.

America looked up from his toy horses and turned his head toward the door that led to the basement. He thought he'd heard a noise, but he wasn't sure. Just to be safe, he got up and walked down the hall to the door, knowing England would be furious if he went in there without permission (not that he hadn't tried before). He put his ear to the door and listened.

There was a moan on the other side of the door. America frowned and knocked. "England? Are you okay?" There was another moan and he started to worry; he didn't know if he should open it or-"AaaaaAAAAAHHHHH...!" The loud groan made America start, and in a hurry he got the key hidden in the potted plant nearby and used it to unlock the door. He turned the knob and almost immediately the door swung open. America jumped back as England fell to the floor in front of him, his cloak fluttering over him.

"A-Ah..." England moaned and shivered, looking pale, maybe ill. America kneeled down next to him, pulling on his shoulders and making him lay on his back. "England? England!" he cried, putting a hand to the nation's forehead. He felt hot, and he was sweating. He was panting heavily, and his whole body was shaking. "E-England, England, what's wrong?" America didn't know what to do, he just looked down worriedly at the nation and hoped he'd be alright, he prayed for him to be okay…

England's eyes opened slightly, looking up at the boy, and part of him wanted to yell at him to run, to get away from him. The other part of him wanted to grab him, to hold him close, to keep him there...and do things... No. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't let the spell take over. He hadn't been prepared for the backfire, but that didn't mean he'd give up so easily. He reached up with a hand as the boy looked over him, and when America saw it he took the hand. "E-England...?" he whispered, looking absolutely terrified and feeling helpless.

The nation looked at his colony with sad eyes before they widened, and he knew he was forced to give in. The pounding in his head combined with his churning stomach made him feel dizzy and weak. He wasn't entirely in control of his actions anymore, nor was he even aware of what he was doing as his other hand reached up, sliding behind the colony's head and pulling him down towards his own.

"Wha-!"

America was interrupted by the contact of his lips to England's, cutting him off. His eyes widened with surprise and confusion, and more than a little bit of fear, as England only wrapped his other arm around the boy's body and pulled him close, not showing any signs of letting up.

"Mmf!" America tried pushing away from England, his hands on the other's shoulders, but the nation's grip was too tight, and only tightened more around him when he struggled. He was terrified. Something must have been wrong with England; he knew it. He couldn't be doing this on purpose! America didn't know what was going on, but it had to be bad!

The hand that was wrapped around the boy's waist started to slide to his hip, and America pushed harder, though it was no use. Even like this, England was still stronger than him. He didn't know what to do! He just pushed harder and harder, and England held on tighter to him. Then England's hand started to slip under the hem of America's shirt, and he panicked. America pulled away from him long enough to let out a desperate cry: "Engla-!"

The powerful nation didn't let him get beyond that as he forced his head back down, biting softly into his neck. The bite didn't cause America much pain, but he let out a whimper anyway as tears started to well up in his eyes. He continued pushing on England's shoulders as he felt the hand crawl up his side and move over his back. The British nation bit down harder this time, and America had a sudden realization. England must have been turning into a…vampire!

Oh no! America thought. England's a vampire! He's a vampire! What do I do now! England!

America struggled and pushed. He tried slipping out of England's grasp, but the hand on the back of his head kept him from moving away. He started to kick his legs against England's, crying out and screaming, and England rolled them both over, keeping his grip around America so that he was on top of the colony. He pinned his arms to the floor and straddled him, looking down at America for a moment before he bit his neck again, adding a little more force. America cried out again, "England, stop it!" The colony struggled and fought, writhing his legs slightly beneath England, and, surprisingly, this made the Brit let out a moan as he licked America's neck!

The tears in America's eyes fell and he started to cry, desperation kicking in as he started tossing his head and shoulders, trying to break free from England's grasp. Still, it was no use; England was still stronger than him. He sniffed and whined as England started to lift up the boy's shirt, still biting and licking his neck, growing more and more forceful.

America finally gave up and let himself cry. He felt powerless and weak. He was too scared and confused to think. He didn't know what to do, and England was just too strong!

England let out a quiet moan as he bit down, and America winced. It hurt that time! England bit down again, and America's breathing started to speed up as his panic escalated. What if he turns me into a vampire? I…I don't want to be a vampire! I don't want to! No!

"E-England…s-s-stop it….p-please…!" America had tears streaming down his cheeks, and his voice sounded small and pitiful. England didn't react, only biting down again as his hand slipped America's shirt up to the middle of his chest. America started to struggle again. "E-England…!"

Still, the Brit didn't respond. America let out another cry right before England bit down on his neck again, letting out another moan, and America screamed. "England!" America threw his arms up and forward, forcing England away from himself. He felt stronger than he ever had before, and the little colony kicked his legs up with as much force as he could muster. England was thrown off, falling backwards onto the floor. He groaned and slowly reached up to rub his head.

America was shaking slightly, panting with quick, short breaths as he sat up, staring at England with wide, fearful eyes. The boy quickly pulled down his shirt again and wiped his neck, expecting to see blood on his hand, but when he pulled it away, there was only saliva. Ew…

England's hand dropped suddenly, hitting the hard wooden floor, making America jump and look at him again. They were both still for several minutes, one watching the other, waiting for something to happen. Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. As America waited, he started to believe that England wasn't going to get up. He gulped and hesitantly crawled over to him, watching him tensely, inching along. When he finally reached him, he leaned forward to look at his face.

The nation was still panting, and he looked paler than before. He was still sweating, but he wasn't shaking anymore. America couldn't begin to guess if that was good or bad, so he leaned back and just watched him, wiping the tears from his cheeks with a sleeve, sniffing once or twice. More minutes passed before England made a small noise. America tensed up, still watching him, shaking ever so slightly. Another noise, and England slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling hazily. America was still tense as his eyes slowly shifted to look at him, and they stared at each other for a few moments before England's eyes widened in obvious horror. He realized with utter shock what he'd done. Without a word, he quickly rolled onto his side, away from the boy, pulling his cloak over his shoulders as he curled up slightly.

America was still unsure if he should move closer or stay away. England didn't move again, but America could hear him as he quietly began to cry. Shock, fear and confusion overwhelmed the poor boy, and he started to cry again. He didn't care anymore, he just wanted England to be okay. He crawled over to him and clutched his cloak, still crying. "E-Eng…England…!" He sniffed, and he reached over his side to grab his arm, tugging on it. "E-England…!"

The nation turned his head farther away from him, pulling his arm away as he whispered, "A-America… G-Get…go away… Now…" England's voice was quiet, weak; he even sounded scared. This just frightened America, and he grabbed his arm again, pulling him onto his back and wrapping his arms around his neck, huddling next to him as he cried. For a moment, England didn't say or do anything. He just looked at him as he cried. Then, slowly, he patted his colony's back very gently, blinking back tears as he listened to the closest, dearest person in his life cry.

He hadn't meant anything he'd just done. He swore he didn't. The spell he'd been preparing backfired and multiplied in intensity. He didn't even know what he was doing to the poor boy. He didn't know…

"P-Please d-d-don't be a v-vampire E-England…!" America cried. England was surprised for a moment, then he remembered biting America's neck, and realized that the boy must have been trying to come up with an explanation for it. He let out a shaky breath and slowly wrapped his arms around him, letting the tears fall and letting the tremors shake his body as he cried with him. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry A-America! I'm n-not turning into a vampire… A-Alright..?" America hugged his neck tighter and buried his face in England's shirt, and England stroked his hair softly, both of them crying, holding each other close. Neither of them dared to let go, and they stayed that way for almost a full hour. Eventually, the tears subsided, and England asked America if he was hungry. With a nod and a sniff, America mumbled, "Yeah…" England kept his arms around him as he sat up slowly. When he stood, he picked America up with him, holding him close but being gentle.

America kept his face buried in England's shirt, still hugging his neck. He wasn't scared of England anymore. He was just plain scared. He didn't want England to go anywhere; he wanted him to stay and make him tea and read him stories and smile at him and make him laugh. He wanted England to be the real England. He didn't want to let go.

England carried him to the kitchen, still holding him. He felt so, so guilty about what happened. He wanted to hit himself for what he'd done to America. He wasn't in any way attracted to America except as a close member of his family. He didn't mean to do any of that, he never even considered it. The very thought of it made him feel sick. He silently cursed himself a thousand times, wishing he'd hidden the key to the basement in a better spot, wishing he hadn't screwed up the pronunciation of the spell, wishing he could take it all back. He knew he could never take it back, not without risking a serious accident in the time-space continuum. And he didn't want to risk America's safety again.

America and England hugged each other tightly as England stood in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. They both felt safe together. They had a connection as country and colony that was hard to find anywhere else. They loved each other, and they trusted each other.

England would never forgive himself for almost destroying that trust.