Canada woke up, but didn't immediately open his eyes. He stretched where he lay, and after a moment opened his eyes, expecting to see one of the walls of his room at home. What he saw was a flat screen TV and a number of video game systems. "Wha…? Where am I?" He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, then looked down and saw what looked like the blanket from his room at America's. Familiar snoring echoing down a flight of stairs confirmed his suspicion.

"America?" he called, answered by another snore.

Canada, unsure of what to do, simply sat on the couch and listened to his brother's snores slowly fading off. Moments later, America appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, America."

America looked at him, and an unidentifiable something flashed in his eyes that made Canada uneasy. "You're up."

"Uhh, yeah…"

America walked into the kitchen and started brewing a cup of coffee.

"Umm… how did I get here?"

"I brought you."

"Why?"

America didn't look up from the coffee maker as he asked, offhand, "So when were you planning to tell me you did crack? Were you even going to? Or were you just going to wait for the physical signs to show up and let me find out like that?" His voice grew cold and harsh as he spoke.

Canada stared. "W-what? You… what?"

America fixed the other man with a cool stare. "You know, it's one thing to not find out at all, it's quite another to find out from France."

"But – but I never told France, either."

"That's funny, because yesterday he called me and told me that my 'brozzer was 'igh on somezing'," he said in a cruel imitation of the Frenchman's accent. "And then when I went to check up on you, sure enough, you were sitting on your couch smoking crack."

Canada paled. "Oh…"

There was a tense silence which was broken by the coffee machine indicating it was done. America poured the dark liquid into a mug and took a slow sip. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

The betrayal in his brother's voice broke Canada's heart. "I – I'm sorry… I knew that you'd get mad at me 'cause of how much you hate drugs… I figured it'd just be easier to keep it hidden."

"Keep it hidden?" America half-shouted. "Do you even know what that s—t does to you?"

Canada bit his lip and stared down at the floor, too ashamed to meet his brother's eye.

The blue-eyed blond continued ranting, "Crack will dissolve your teeth right out of your skull, do you really think I wouldn't notice something like that?"

"I didn't know…"

"Nobody ever does! And by the time they do notice they're slowly killing themselves, it's already too f—king late!"

Canada flinched at his brother's rage; despite what you might say about Americans in general, America the person wasn't usually one to swear. "I – I'm sorry…"

America softened, sorry for yelling at his brother and unnerved by the sudden rage that had taken him over. "When did you start doing this? No, why did you start doing this?"

"I started about a year ago… it was really popular and I wanted to see what all the hype was about, and I… I guess it all went downhill from there." He glanced up at America, who was leaning against a wall and staring into the depths of his coffee, his blue eyes darkened by something Canada couldn't identify. "I'm sorry, America."

America took a slow sip from his coffee and gave a deep sigh. "I just wish you had told me yourself, that I had found out from you instead of France." He scowled into his drink. "Hell, I should've been able to work it out myself. I'm an oblivious idiot if ever there was one."

Canada frowned. "Don't say that, it's not true. I'm the idiot here."

America set his coffee down on the counter and rubbed his temples. "I… I don't even know what to say to this." He turned and went down the stairs to his basement.

Canada sat there on the couch for a moment. He wanted to go home, but America had driven so he couldn't do that. He decided to follow his brother. When he caught up, he couldn't tell whether or not the older nation had even noticed him. Canada trailed along behind his brother to the first, then the second basement level. They crossed the basement to a wide set of ancient-looking double doors.

Much to Canada's surprise, the doors opened with a light push. Isn't America more paranoid than that? It doesn't seem like him to just leave an entrance open like that.

The door led into a dark tunnel. The brothers walked for a few feet before America said, "If you're going to follow me then stay close; these tunnels go under the entire country and I don't want to spend hours looking for you."

Canada drew up next to America, and noticed that he was walking with his eyes closed. "Your basement is huge," he said.

America shook his head. "It's not mine. These tunnels have been here since before people even started considering the world being round."

"Oh. So who dug them?"

America shrugged. "Nobody knows."

"Don't you ever get lost down here?"

"Nope. I've never gotten lost once. It happens, though. Occasionally I'll come down here and I find a skeleton of some poor guy who got lost down here…"

Canada blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "Wow… So who goes down here?"

"Not many people, not anymore. Back in the day, these tunnels were used to funnel troops and supplies during the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, they were used to move moonshine and many stretches of the Underground Railroad went through here.

"In fact, it went right through my basement. When I could, I'd always give the runaways food and water, and heal up whatever injuries I could."

"Wow, I never knew all that," Canada said. It suddenly hit him that he really didn't know that much about his brother's past, except for when both of them were being raised by England. Well, at least he's off the drug thing.

America smiled. He enjoyed telling the stories. "Not many do. The only people who know about these tunnels anymore are the mages."

"Mages?"

America nodded. "Yup. There's been magic across the country since pretty much ever."

"Huh. Magic is illegal in my country."

America laughed out loud. "Magic is illegal there? Like, there's an actual law?"

"Yeah, I don't see why it's so funny though."

"Because. The Northern Lights are the Mecca of magical society."

Canada blinked. "Really?"

"Really. The old mages referred to it as 'the aura of the Earth. And by old, I mean Persia sort of old. I myself could be considered an 'old mage'; I'm over three hundred. And I'm blathering.

"Anyway, yeah, a lot of mages go to the Northern Lights to recharge their auras."

"Auras?"

America raised a hand that was surrounded by white light. "Dude, how do you think we've been able to see in here?"

Canada blinked again. He hadn't even thought of that. "Oh. So that's what an aura looks like?" Somehow he had thought it would be rather more… impressive.

"In part," America said with a smile. Don't ever let be said that America wasn't a show off. He faded the glow around his hand, and the brothers were instantly immersed in darkness. Then, a bright scarlet light appeared at the ground around America's feet and shot up, surrounding his entire body, followed by white and then deep blue light that flared at angles from around his feet. "This is my full aura."

Canada squinted at the sudden brightness. "Wow, that's amazing."

America changed his aura back to the simple white glow around his hand. "Thanks."

They walked for perhaps ten more feet before Canada thought of another question. "How do you know when other mages are down here?"

"Good question." America grinned. "Want me to show you?"

"Umm, sure?"

America knelt down and put on hand on the stone floor. He sent out a burst of red white and blue light that shot down the corridor in both directions, splitting off where there were turns. "If there are any other mages within ten miles, they'll send a pulse back."

"So like radar."

"Pretty much, yeah. And it looks like we've got a ping."

A stream of orange and silver light followed the same path America's aura had, but now ran towards the North American brothers. America raised an eyebrow when it passed under the palm of his hand, which still rested against the ground. "Corvinnia Snow? She lives in New York, why's she so far South?"

"Who's Corvinnia Snow?"

"An old friend of mine. She's an immortal and one of the most po-"

America was cut off by a female voice echoing down the tunnel, screeching "Burn in the Hell you came from!" The voice was immediately followed by its owner, sprinting around a corner and towards the brothers. America made a sweeping motion in her direction, and there was a deep rumbling sound that indicated the corridor had closed off. The blond's eyebrows furrowed as he completely closed off… something.

"Are you okay?" America asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," the woman panted. Her manner, however, contradicted her words. She leaned heavily against a wall and cringed as if in pain.

"Do you know what that was behind you?"

"No. All I know is it escaped from 51 and somehow ended up in New York." She looked suspiciously at America. "Aren't things like that supposed to be your division?"

America shrugged. "People don't always tell their superiors about stuff like that, and there's a long line of superiors before these things get to me."

Canada sighed to himself. And of course they both ignore me.

Almost as if she had read his thoughts, the green-eyed woman looked directly at him. She seemed to look straight into him and into his soul, greatly unnerving him. "Who's your lookalike?" she asked America, without turning her ivy-colored eyes away from Canada.

America blinked. He had momentarily forgotten about his brother. "Oh, right, sorry. Corvinnia, this is my brother, Canada. Canada, this is Corvinnia Snow, she's an old friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you," Canada said.

"Likewise." Corvinnia turned back to America. "What do you think we can do about this thing?"

America rolled his shoulders, a stalling mannerism. "Depends which part of 51 it came from. But clearly it can do a major number on a mage." He paled a shade. "Wait, have you been hurt?"

Canada saw the sudden and deep concern etched on his brother's face, and couldn't help wonder what the blue-eyed nation's relationship was with Corvinnia.

"Nothing I can't postpone for a few more hours. But it killed three NYC cops and a mage."

And they're ignoring me again.

The second this passed through Canada's head, Corvinnia wheeled at him. "We are not ignoring you, we're trying to figure out how to neutralize a creature that's killed at least four people in the past twelve hours!"

What? How did she – is she some sort of mind reader? RUBBER DUCKY, YOU'RE THE ONE!

Corvinnia looked at him with incredulity, and turned to America. "You're better at reading specifics than I am, what is he doing?"

America glanced at his brother and smiled. "Canada, she isn't a mind reader, you can quit with that mind block of yours."

While Canada spluttered incoherently, Corvinnia busted out laughing, then cried out and collapsed to her knees.

"Corvinnia!" America exclaimed, instantly dropping down at her side. "Corvinnia, what's wrong?"

The pale woman lifted a hand from where it clutched her stomach, and found that it was bloodied. "I – I'm okay, I just can't keep these wounds closed m-much longer."

America pooled white light around one of his hands and rested it over the gash that had begun to open. "Here, you're gonna be okay."

Corvinnia allowed herself to relax. "Thanks, America. Great healer as always." She looked up at Canada. "And I'm not a mind reader. I'm an impath." She then turned back to America. "Go ahead and take care of the creature, I should be able to hold out for a little longer. You don't need to worry about damage control; I ordered a few mages to deal with that before I followed it down here."

America looked at her with concern. "You sure? It can wait until you get those scratches healed." His voice was laced with a nervousness that was unlike him.

"I'm sure." She smiled, apparently sensing America's worry. "Don't worry, you can deal with this. We've been through worse than this time and time again."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"Okay…" America stood up and looked down at Corvinnia, who was leaning against the wall. "Don't die on me, okay?"

Corvinnia smiled. "I won't, don't you worry. Now go, before that thing gets any angrier."

America nodded and went to where he had blocked off the creature, steeling himself for whatever wounds it would deal.

"Are you sure he'll be able to handle that thing?" Canada asked. "From the sounds of it, it's really strong."

"Oh, I'm sure," Corvinnia said calmly. "He's easily the most powerful mage in the western hemisphere, perhaps even the world."

"Really?" Huh, who would've thought America would be the best at magic.

"Really." The raven-haired woman seemed again to sense Canada's thoughts. "You don't need to be so wary of me, Canada."

Canada stared at her. How does she do that? Surely I'm not that obvious… "What makes you think I'm wary of you?"

"Your mannerisms reflect it, as do your eyes." She smirked. "It helps that I'm an impath."

"What's an impath?"

"Impaths are people born with an ability to sense the moods and feelings of those around us."

"So like a mind reader."

Corvinnia shook her head. "No, we're not readers. Impaths can only read specific thoughts when we have skin contact with another person. That's why most of us wear long clothing and avoid cities. It's an entirely passive ability, only three impaths have ever been able to control the power."

Canada blinked. "Okay…"

They fell into a silence that was broken by a small explosion. The two immortals snapped their heads toward America, who seemed to have blown up the head of the large, lizard-like creature he battled.

America flicked a piece of lizard skull off the sleeve of his jacket with a look of disgust. "Well that was bloody," he muttered.

"America, are you okay?" Canada asked.

America walked over to his brother and Corvinnia. "Yeah, I'm fine. It didn't even scratch me." He smiled at Corvinnia and held out a hand to help her up. "I guess you already wore it out."

"I guess." The woman took a step and nearly collapsed again, but was caught by America. She winced. "I just wish the thing hadn't taken such a toll on me."

"Don't worry, you'll be okay. I'll have you healed up in just a few minutes." Making sure he still held Corvinnia steady, he seized Canada by the shoulder.

The hallway around them faded to black, and then brightened again. However, they now stood at the entrance back into America's basement.

Canada gaped. "W-what?" he exclaimed. "What just happened?"

"We teleported; it would take too long to walk all the way back here."

"Oh. Okay, cool."

America helped Corvinnia into the basement and to one of the random armchairs that were scattered around the main space – his second basement ran under his entire property.

Corvinnia leaned her head back and tried to relax. "Now's a good time," she muttered.

Although she braced herself for the pain, she still cried out when three long gashes opened across her stomach, and another opened across her left thigh.

Canada's eyes widened. "Where did those come from?"

"They… came from… the lizard," Corvinnia explained through gritted teeth.

America knelt down next to her and again pooled white light around his hand. "Don't speak," he murmured. "Just try and relax." He lowered his hand over her wounds and began the process of healing them, starting at the deepest rips in her flesh.

"I didn't know you were a doctor," Canada said as he watched.

America shrugged. "Army medic training and some good teachers."

Canada continued watching the two mages, and again wondered what their relationship was. He was rather intrigued by the apparent change in his brother's personality. Where America was usually hyper and easily distracted, he know moved calmly and slowly, pausing his work only to murmur comfort or squeeze her hand if Corvinnia did anything that indicated pain.

I wonder if they're dating…

Corvinnia looked over at Canada and smiled through her pain. "You feel like sharing whatever question is digging at your mind?"

Crap. How does she even do that? "Oh, nothing. I'm just a little, you know, weirded out by the whole magic thing. I always thought England was the only one who uses magic."

"Nah, Iggy isn't the only one," America said. "There's also me, Scotland, Wales, and Russia – though to the best of my knowledge he only uses dark magic.

"Huh. I never knew that."

"There," America sighed. "It's done."

Corvinnia peered at the former location of the wounds. "Not even a scar, just like always." She smiled. "Once again, though, you don't bother to stitch the fabric back together."

America shrugged. "Better have a trashed shirt than a bunch of nasty wounds."

"Whatever." She put the cloth back together with her own magic and stood up. "Well, I'm tired and my magic's half-drained, so I'm gonna go get some fresh air." She walked up to the ground floor, leaving the North American brothers alone.

Great. Canada thought to himself. Now that his girlfriend's gone, America's gonna go back to the drug thing. Ugh…

"Well, today certainly hasn't gone as planned," America muttered.

"I know, just look at your girlfriend, she –"

"She is not my girlfriend. She's just a friend."

Canada snorted. "Sure. But yeah, today's been pretty insane."

"So… what did Cuba have to do with anything?"

Canada suddenly became very interested in the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

"Canada?" America reached over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You gonna say something or what?"

The northern nation shrank back from him. "S-sorry. Cuba was the one who suggested it. Then when I tried to back out…"

"Ah. I get it." Though his voice was calm, America felt a red rage burning in the back of his mind. He forced it down. "So Cuba was forcing you to keep on crack even when you wanted to back out.

"Yeah. Well, after a while he wasn't really forcing me, but… I'm sorry America."

"Don't worry." America stood up and stretched. "Now, healing magic takes a ton of energy and I'm starved. You want something to eat?"

Canada smiled a little at the prospect of food. "Yeah, I'm a little hungry myself."

The brothers went upstairs in silence. Corvinnia was sitting out on the back porch with her face to the sun and her aura glowing close around her skin.

"Hey, Vin," America greeted.

She looked over at him. "Oh, hey. I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Yeah, well, Iggy's told me a zillion times to quit calling him Iggy. So whatcha doin'?"

Corvinnia stood up and rolled her shoulders. "Recharging. Those wounds took up a lot of energy to hold off, and I need to get home."

America nodded. "Well, after we have some food I was gonna drive Canada back up to his place, I could drop you off on the way. Besides, the New Yorkers are probably gonna want me to say something about the lizard."

She looked between the brothers for a moment and snorted derisively. "Spend multiple hours in a small, enclosed space with two Vox Populi who are clearly having an issue, yeah, that sounds fantastic. I'll just have a seizure there in the backseat."

Canada was again entranced by the ground.

"Whatever."

"Well, I'll call you if the New Yorkers want a word."

"Mmkay."

Corvinnia turned on her heel and was gone in a flash of orange.

America looked over at Canada. "So, you want food or do you want to go home?"

"Well, I'd really like to go home now, but you said you were hu-"

"Don't worry about it. I've gone a month and a half without food, I can last some hours."

"Oh. Um, okay." Canada had no clue how that was even possible, and while he did want to go home, he didn't want to be stuck in the car with his brother, who would undoubtedly rant about the day before.

America breezed inside and took the keys to one of his cars. "You coming?"

Canada looked up from the floor. "What? Yeah, I'm coming." Hands deep in his pockets, he followed the blue-eyed nation out to the garage. They got in America's old T-Bird and got on the road.

Wordless, America reached over and turned the radio to a rock station. He drove calmly and quietly sang along with the radio, never turning his eyes from the road. Canada stared at the floor in silence. About twenty minutes in, he couldn't take it anymore.

We weren't born to fol- click.

America glanced over with a raised eyebrow. "You okay, dude?"

"No. Yes. I jus – I don't know." Canada sighed. "I'm so stupid," he groaned.

"You're not stupid."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not, you just did something stupid."

Canada couldn't look at America. "I'm a complete moron," he muttered.

"Quit saying that. You're not an idiot, you just made an idiotic mistake."

"Why are you defending me? I thought you hated drugs."

"I do hate them, and I hate that you've been doing that. However," he added, sensing his brother's shame, "you're still my brother before you're anything else."

"I – I'm sorry, America."

"It's okay, Canada."

"Do you hate me now?"

America looked at Canada like he had grown a second head. "Why would I hate you?"

"Because of how much you hate drugs. I never told you because I was scared you'd hate me…"

America took a long, deep breath, and did not respond.

"A-America?"

"I can't hate you for something like that." He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. "I've… I've made more than my fair share of mistakes, far bigger and far, far worse than your own. I believe that – in most cases, at least – you should hate the action, not the man."

"So… you –"

"I forgive you."

"Really?"

"Really. Just don't restart, okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

America smiled. "Good."

They drove in silence for several more minutes. "Hey, America?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you hate drugs so much?"

America sighed. "Many reasons. And… it's less that I hate them, not so much as, well, as I fear them."

Canada raised an eyebrow. Fear wasn't something he had ever associated with his brother. "Why?"

"Well, a few reasons. Back in the sixties, I knew this guy, he was a professor. He was a great mind, one of the greatest of the time. We were really good friends, I learned a lot from him. Then when all the bizarre crap that got popular back then got hold of him," he shivered, "it wasn't pretty.

"I watched him lose his ability to think and reason, and it was terrifying to me. To see how something so simple could destroy one of the greatest people I knew, someone I liked and respected so much. Then, after a time, it affected him physically and he died."

Canada couldn't think how to respond to that. It was completely foreign to him, to see his brother open up like that. "Oh. I didn't know."

America shrugged uncomfortably, as if trying to shrug off the memory. "It's not something I talk about a lot. The other reason I hate drugs so much is because of a mage I knew in that same era. At the time he was about twenty, and he obviously could've developed to be one of the most powerful mages in the country. Then he got hit with that whole trend, and he degenerated really quickly. But not only did he lose the ability to think, he lost control of his magic and it got a lot weaker before he lost it entirely.

"I don't know if he was doing something different, or if he was doing more of it, or if mages have some sort of different brain structure that makes us more susceptible to drugs, but he lost control in just a few weeks, his magic in a week more, and then he died a month after losing his magic. In some ways, it was the scariest thing I'd ever seen."

Canada said nothing. This he really didn't know what to say to. The brothers were silent for the rest of the drive. America pulled into Canada's driveway, and before Canada got out, he reached over and squeezed the other man's arm.

"Yeah? America?"

"I'm here for you, bro. Whatever happens."

Canada gave a grateful smile. "Thanks, bro." He went into the house and glared Cuba, who was still there.

"Oh, hey Canada."

"Get out."

Cuba raised an eyebrow. "What? Why do you want me out?"

Canada sharpened his glare. "Cuba, I don't want to see you right now. Get out of my house."

The two nations stared coolly at each other for a moment before Cuba looked away. "Whatever. We're still on for next week, right?"

Canada frowned. "Maybe. I'll think on it."

"That maybe'd better turn into a yes, dude," Cuba said darkly.

"Whatever. Just get out of my house."

Cuba glared at Canada for a moment, and then left the house, slamming the door behind him.

America watched the island nation leave and again felt that same scarlet rage from before. Why is this affecting me so much? Yeah he's a complete a-hole, but what's with the rage? He sighed and began the long drive home. It's probably not a big deal. Probably…