Canada slumped unceremoniously into his chair, gripping his bear tightly.

The northern nation ended up being earlier than he had wanted today. There was still a good half-hour before the majority of the personifications would begin to filter and a bit longer than that before the main event.

That seemed to be the best description of the frivolous meetings. A pageant of treaties and a revelry of threats.

He was surprised if anything was ever accomplished in these meetings. Then again, it wasn't as if he had much of a say in it in the end. That was meant in the most literal way as possible.

The soft spoken blonde was rarely acknowledged during the proceedings, often ignored or drowned out by his southern counterpart, that damnable yet lovable brother of his. Of course, he found this upsetting and often inefficient, but at the same time, he could occasionally see some benefit to this.

Today was one of those days.

Matthew had woken up less than sound. His head was pounding. Sudden movements made him woozy. The entirety of his being just summed up with one word…blah

After he managed to elegantly shake off the encumbrance of slumber {read: wrapped in the blankets breaking all proximate glassware, tearing the sheets, and injuring a cat. Receiving a nine for the landing, a perfect face plant replica of 89'} he had thoroughly checked his economy and international affairs, in which he found nothing out of sorts. There had been an election brewing, but those never made him feel off, actually, those usually gave him a burst of fresh energy due to the changes.

So he shrugged it off as a lingering effect of having eaten Britain's cooking over the weekend.

Sadly, it was an all too reasonable and likely possibility.

He really should have just stayed in bed, or better yet, followed Alfred's example and skipped out on the dinner. Though that would have probably brought on a headache of another kind. Anything having to do with following his twin's tactic always ended in three or four days of damage control…minimum.

Arthur was one for-

"-and where were you, twit?! I made dinner for all of us-"

"-AHAHAHA! The Hero won't be fooled by your poisons-"

"-Wanker! You declared pizza vegetable-"

"Hey! We agreed not to talk about that!"

Speak of the devil, and he will present himself in the form of a very pissed off British representation.

When would he learn to keep his thoughts to himself? Or from himself? Whatever…

Dragging his mind from the mental metaphysical conundrum, Matthew sighed and let his eyes wander towards the door where both his brother and father-figure walked in. His not being the only pair as the few other countries that littered the room waited for the show with ravenous gazes. Hopefully, this time would finally be different than their other petty little fights and there would be blood. Perchance a 'disappearance' of sorts? A bit of land without a personification to shake up decades of boredom wasn't too much to hope for was it?

Unfortunately for a giddy baby faced pipe wielding nation, this wish would go unfulfilled as the boisterous host nation quickly brushed off the offending Brit with nothing more than an extended laugh that boomed across the room while both nations quickly found their places.

Right beside Matthew.

A groan escaped him as his head increased the tempo to the cadence it had been playing all morning. The two nations beside him continued their petty arguing using slightly more hushed mutterings with him directly between him. Letting Kuma wriggle from his lap to the floor, Canada began to furiously rub his temples as he screwed his eyes shut, hoping to find some relief.

"-besides even Tony wouldn't- Yo, lil' bro? Whattcha doing?" His voice was grating to the nation.

"…..Practicing telekinesis, Al."

"Dude! That's so totally friggen cool! …Say! Can you make some Starbucks appear? I need my fix!"

Matthew's eyes rolled open as he glanced at his brother and his completely serious expression. His oh-so-adorable-must-not-bash-with-a-hockey-stick brother.

An exasperated sigh and the sound of skin hitting skin came from his other side accompanied by something along the lines of 'I raised that?'

Matthew just humored his brother with a curt rejection before letting his arms cradle his head on the table as the rest of the, literal, world moved about him, talking and situating for the meeting.

Wait one damned minute.

"I'm not your little brother! I had people before you!" The northern twin let out a dignified yelp, snapping his head up just a little too quickly as his brain caught up to the conversation.

"Doesn't count. Should'a declared independence with me, Mattie-O."

His eyebrows scrunched together as he gave a semblance of a pout, but it was quickly brushed off by the blue eyed nation whom had already mastered such things long ago. Saving his dignity, Matt showed his tongue with a scowl before dropping his head back into his arms, barely missing the impending swipe.

Whack

"OW! Artie! That hurt! Wha'did ya do that for!"

"You're acting like a bloody prat….and stop butchering the English language."

Matthew cracked one eye open to peek at his brother, pure elated provocation in that violet circle. Al took a moment to notice, but he finally caught that eye with his own, face scrunching in irritation. The 'older' nation didn't even have to see the smirk on his face to know it was there, taunting him.

His voice was accusing and mopey with a pointed finger for accent. "But Mattie-"

Whack

"Take responsibility for your own actions, twit! You see, this is why -"

Well…Today wasn't so bad

Eyes began to drift back to the arguing pair, still waiting for that mystical moment when one of them would snap and they could finally have some peace. The northern twin knew better than this. Their 'family' had an odd way of showing it, but the chances that any of them would hurt each other after what they had already been through was slim to none. Instead, Matthew just let them continue their expression while he turned to nursing his headache. He let himself mentally immerse in an old French melody as he waited for the meeting to start, letting his mind wander carelessly from the chaos recirculating above him.

'….but what are the repercussions…'

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!"

Sam groaned as he cracked an eye open, hissing as the sunlight assaulted him from the open doorway.

"Dean…What time is it?" His words were still husky as he tried to throw off the veil of sleep.

"We are currently sitting at diez de la mañana." The Spanish was pitiful and mispronounced with a drawl.

Raising himself to a sitting position, the younger of the brother's raised a questioning brow.

"What? When did you learn Spanish?"

"When I picked up these taco's." There was proud grin on his Dean's face as he waved the brown bag containing his Mexican treat.

Getting over his initial shock of his brother's temporary multilingualism, Sam proceeded to try and interpret the words.

Un…seis…nueve ...shit 10 am.

Scrambling for his phone, he noticed the device had been shut off. Not dead, but purposefully shut off. An angry sigh escaped his lips as he realized the only possible explanation for this.

"Dean…really?" He asked, shaking the offending device at his brother while his face held an accusing look.

"…mmm? Wan' one?" He offered , still chewing on the food he was attacking, only to receive a trademark 'bitching' scowl. "Screw you, man." The retracted with a look of childish affront on his face before getting back to his meal.

Sighing, Sam went back to his phone, waiting a few moments while it finished starting up, then moved to flip through to make sure there weren't any missed calls or messages. He didn't expect any as they hadn't been receiving anything as of late. It's had almost been too quiet recen-

Ding

Quickly skimming the message, Sam shot to his feet, swallowing hard. The message itself was only ten minutes old, give or take. Responding post-haste, the taller of the brother's finally answered the throng of food mumbled questions coming from the other side of the room.

"We have a job."

Canada sat back in his chair, trying to at least pretend to be listening to the presentation being given.

Wait. Who was speaking?

Papa Francis. Euro's? Ok. Back to daydreaming.

The nation wondered if this was how his brother saw the world. It wasn't usual for him to be like this, but his mind just wasn't there.

He had tried to pay attention, he really had. However, his mind began to protest after the fifth time he heard 'impossible, you bloody Yank.'. Instead, he found his eyes simply drifting over the table, inspecting each nation for a moment before trailing to the next. Flicking to the side, the clock stared back at him with terrible news. It was only a little before ten, still hours left here.

Movement near his foot caused him to look down for a moment. Kumashitsuji was wrapped up near his left foot, twitching ever so slightly in a fitful slumber. Maybe he needed to cut back on the bear's intake of seal. That usually brought bad dreams after all.

Closing his eyes for a moment, the nation took a deep breath, retreating into himself as he tried to expel the pain he was currently experiencing. Perhaps he needed to talk to his boss. See if there was anything going down that needed his attention. After all, this was unusual, he supposed.

'…then I guess it's a deal…'

Matthew's eyes snapped open at the words, but before he could question where it came from, an explosion of pain engulfed him. The feeling of his entire bodily code being torn apart and rewritten. Cold. Hot. Cold. Pin pricks. Stabs. The varying feelings attacked in at various points simultaneously. He wanted to tear at his skin, pull out whatever was causing this. His skin was crawling, almost literally. Yet, he could only sit there in as his entirety was numbed in suprise.

Finally, he released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. Instead, he began to slowly hyperventilate, gasping to nearly non-existent streams as his entire body began to shake with force.

"..and z'at is why we -mon cher?" The Frenchman's turned in his seat inquisitively as he heard his former charge quietly struggling in the seat beside him.

The Canadian swallowed with difficulty as he tried to control himself.

"Mathieu?"

At the sound of his name, Matthew shot to his feet, hands splayed as they slapped the desk with a resounding thud and every eye fell upon him with varying emotion from irritation to concern. His own eyes were wide, drilling holes into the desk as his mind sent an electric shock down his spine, causing his breath to hitch, depleting his already dwindling oxygen supply and his back arched almost unnaturally. Teeth were clinched so tight it was a wonder they didn't break.

"What's wrong? Bloody hell! Matthew. Come on lad." The voice beside him was built with concern, but something else, something akin to fear.

"I…." The words were cut off by a rising feeling in his throat. Trying again, his mouth just moved uselessly as the explanation ended when metallic liquid sputtered through his words. Red dribbled along his lips onto the orderly printed notes in front of him, dyeing it with the dense flow.

The sight was more than enough to send almost every nation in attendance into a drunken frenzy. Many were rushing for medical supplies or finding whatever news outlet they could find to try and source the problem. Shouts came from every which way as they found nothing wrong in various languages, nothing of any magnitude.

On either side of him, hands were steadying the large nation, but one was quickly removed as a shock was sent through them both at the touch. They were hastily replaced by another, larger pair.

"Mios Dio! Mateo!"

"Like, this is freaky!"

"Big bruder! What's wrong with him?"

"Atmen, Kanada."

His name was heavy in the air. It came from every direction, but the echo that was created in his mind made it impossible to pinpoint.

"Shit. Hang on, bro!"

Attempting to lift his head, Canada managed to glance up at those worried blues, a bloodied smile tried to bring comfort, before he slumped and was pitched into the dark.

A few seats were not empty despite the commotion. Some were in shock at the sudden attack, others trying to logically clarify the event, some indifferent to the plight. However, one mind had rusty gears turning full steam, perceptively. That pair of eyes narrowed into an unseen glare, irate and challenging.

Atmen, Kanada(GER)| Breathe, Canada

So...I have a problem.
I have pretty much played this entire story out in my head, but putting it to paper without seeming rushed...is hard. Really hard.
I will try to update quickly because of this, but at the same time, I have to be really careful not to leave plot holes (which will still occur)

Anywho. Let's do this. Please feel free to berate me for any OCCness. I'm still trying to get into their characters fully.
(BTW...any Supernatural stuff will be around season 4...because school and series don't work together. I just recently re-watched up till this season after two years of not being able to see a single episode.)

I don't own Hetalia nor the Winchesters...Oh how I wish...