Italy sniffed as he sat by himself outside his home. Romano was spending the night at Spain's house and Italy was glad for it. His brother would be no help since he didn't approve of the reason behind Venciano's troubles this evening.

Italy, in all honesty, did try his hardest to please Germany, but everything he did seemed to fail. Training that day had ended poorly and resulted in Germany calling it quits and sending him home early. The blonde had even snapped at him when the Italian suggested using the extra time for a pasta dinner, storming off and leaving Italy alone on the training field.

And this was how Italy had come to find himself sitting in the garden behind his house crying softly. No amount of food could seem to take his mind off of the disappointed look Germany had given him when he failed to complete the tasks laid out. He couldn't do push-ups, had no hand-to-hand combat skills (well, any combat skills, really), and his best tactical maneuver was retreating. Germany was starting to wear down every time Italy called him for help with his shoelaces and Italy couldn't remember the last time he had seen Germany smile at him, no matter what he had done to make up for his failures. It was starting to worry him that perhaps Germany had finally grown tired of him.

Italy dragged his sleeve across his face, although the motion did little to stop the flow of tears or the miserable thoughts that plagued him. "If I could be better, Germany, I would be." Italy said out loud, though there was no one around to hear him. "If I could find a way to change, I would be the best soldier you have ever seen! I wouldn't run away, and I'd back you up no matter what because you are my closest friend and I care about you and I don't want to see you get hurt because of me. I wish I wasn't so cowardly. I wish I was stronger like you. I wish I was smarter. I… I just…" Italy put his head down on his arms and whispered, "I wish things could be different."

There was sudden popping noise and Italy was no longer the only one in his back garden. Another figure appeared just in front of him, standing on the grass and looking slightly disoriented. Italy studied the new arrival in confusion. Whoever it was wearing tan laced sandals that reached his knees and a pale tunic. Two large feathered wings were outstretched from the stranger's back, flexing lightly as the breeze ruffled a few of the feathers. Continuing up, Italy stopped on the man's face and his breath caught in his throat. Large eyebrows overshadowed emerald green eyes beneath a disorganized mop of straw colored hair. Italy knew this person. He feared this person. England.

Italy started screaming, curling himself up to be a small as possible and crying harder than he was before. "Please, Mr. England, sir! Don't hurt me! You wouldn't hurt me, would you? I'm so pathetic! And please don't feed me anymore of your terrible scones! I'll tell you whatever you want, just please not the scones!"

England paused, looking both confused and a little irked at the mention of his food. "As much as I could use the information on what you and Germany are doing, I'm here on a different matter." England paused again, realizing that Italy couldn't hear him over the sounds of his own screams. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, so could you please stop? You're starting to hurt my ears." When he found himself ignored again, England frowned. "I have a cup of tea waiting for me at home and the longer this takes, the colder it's going to get, so can we hurry this along?" Growling a few curses under his breath, England shouted, "Shut up!"

Italy quieted, however he was still trembling and crying as he looked to the other nation. "Finally, that's much better." England rubbed at his head before continuing. "As I said before, I'm here for a different matter. You were in a sorry state and making wishes, so I am here to grant you a wish. And when I'm like this you can call me Britannia Angel."

"Britannia Angel?" Italy stared at the angel standing in front of him, looking slightly perturbed at being called to Italy's home on his evening off. "How come you've never said anything about being an angel before?"

Britannia Angel grimaced. "It's a side thing. Made a deal with someone a long time ago and that's not important. Part of the deal is that no one is to know about it."

Italy, if possible, looked more confused. "But I know now."

"Once you make your wish you will not remember our meeting. That's how it works. Now," The angel straightened his tunic and looked down on the little Italian. "What is it that you wish for? And make it snappy. Tea getting cold and all."

Italy thought about. There were lots of things he could wish for. Pasta came to mind, as did a life-long siesta, but then he recalled Germany and the earlier event and he started feeling sad once again. More than anything, he wanted Germany to be happy with him. Feeling determined at his wish he looked up at the angel once again. "I know what I want. I want to be the type of soldier Germany wants me to be; no longer afraid but able to fight with him. Someone who can tie his own shoelaces and won't make pasta in the middle of the desert. I wish to be the opposite of who I am."

Britannia Angel looked startled. "Are… Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I am." Italy nodded and the angel gave a sigh.

"Alright." Britannia Angel moved his hand allowing a wand to appear and grasped it. "Then, I will grant you your wish. I hope it all goes well for you." He waved his wand and uttered a few words and Italy saw a bright flash that knocked him over. The angel looked down at the Italian that was unconscious on the ground, then shook his head and with another pop had disappeared; leaving no trace that he was there in the first place.

Italy was asleep for a little over an hour before he stirred. Unable to recall why he had fallen asleep outside, he stood and stretched, making his way back indoors to properly get ready for bed. He paused while brushing his teeth to admire his reflection, especially his brightly glowing fuchsia eyes. He smirked slightly as he finished and headed for his bedroom. Tomorrow was going to be fun.