Wow. Okay, you guys, I am so sorry, and I've probably lost like a bunch of followers, but don't worry, this fic's not dead by a long shot. I had a very disappointing summer in terms of writing and being productive, and I am very very very very very very very very very very very sorry about that. I won't pull a crap hiatus like that on you guys again if I can help it.

On with the show.

"I-I am," came Italy's shaky reply. "I mean, we are."

England gripped his phone tightly, anxiety taking over. "Italy? What's wrong?"

There was a note of fear and weariness in the other nation's tone. "We just got rid of one of them," Italy replied. "And Crowley came."

England straightened up at this news. "Did he tell you anything useful?" England asked. "He didn't say much in the way of information when I contacted him yesterday."

Another voice spoke up from the other end of the call; apparently Italy had his phone on speaker, too. "Who's Crowley?" the familiar voice demanded. "What's going on? What was that?"

"Is that Germany?" England asked. "What's he doing there? Did Prussia tell him?"

"Potato head was attacked," Romano's voice spoke up. "Tell Prussia to get his fucking act together."

England's jaw tightened. "I thought he was setting up defenses around his brother."

"What?!" Romano barked. "I thought he was with you!"

"I've been sneaking around Switzerland's house, do you honestly think I'd bring Prussia along?" England retorted. "I'll find him later. What did Crowley say?"

Italy answered quickly, as if preempting further grumbling from his brother. "According to the King of Hell, there's four more counting the one that got to America, plus hundreds that are either helping them or taking advantage to wreak havoc in the States."

"Fuck," England growled. "You'd think Lucifer's replacement would be better about keeping his lot in check."

"Stop avoiding my questions!" Germany broke in, in a tone that suggested that he was trying for angry and coming up with frightened instead. "What the hell are you three talking about?"

"We're talking about demons, Germany," England told him flatly. May as well be straight with him, if he'd been attacked. "We're talking about the Judeo-Christian Hell. We're talking about a deal that five of us made with the demon in charge; as long as we don't bother him, he keeps his demons from bothering us." With a sigh, England pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's what it was supposed to be, anyway. Apparently one of them got ideas, and several others followed. She has America. If we don't get rid of her, his entire country comes crashing down." It made him sick to say that, but it was the truth. "And that must not happened."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. He thought he heard a sigh.

"You say the five of you," Germany said finally. "What five?"

"The Italies and myself, of course," England replied. "Along with America and Prussia."

"My brother? Why—?"

"He represents a religious order," England explained. "But that's not important right now. If America dies, then we're all fucked; that's global interdependence for you. And if there're still three of those things going after nations, then we're even more fucked."

Over the speaker, he could hear a quiet rush of barely intelligible German, followed by uneven footsteps and Italy's voice. "It's okay, Germany, it's going to be okay, just sit down, you're safe now."

England waited patiently.

"W-we have to find him, now," Italy said finally. "America, I mean. We have to fix this before it gets any worse."

"Clear out the other bastards, too," Romano growled.

"Yes, and as to the the pair of hunters we were recommended," England went on, "I recognize the names. It's those two that America was bragging about, when we first made the deal. The Winchesters."

"Winchesters?" Italy echoed. "Romano, didn't your friend always talk about them?"

There was a brief silence. "I... suppose we can't clear out hundreds of demons with just four or five of us," Romano muttered reluctantly.

"How is Germany doing?" England asked.

"He's all right for now," Italy answered cautiously.

"We'll demon-proof the place before we leave," Romano added.

"Good." England replied curtly. "Now listen, Canada and Japan are already with them, but..." He sighed. "It seems France has gotten caught in this as well, somehow, and he refuses to leave. I'll set up another meeting place where I can send the two of you. With a little luck, this will be over quickly."

"Ve, we'll finish up here," Italy told him. "I think the host is waking up. Bye, England." The call cut off.

England promptly dialed another number, face grim. Prussia had a lot of explaining to do.

No one had spoken since they'd left the motel.

Dean, Sam could guess, was probably still stewing about the car they were currently using. He hated minivans, which wasn't altogether unreasonable. No self-respecting hunter wanted to be caught dead in a soccer-mom-mobile.

Oh, yeah, and he probably still wasn't thrilled to have the other two along, either.

Sam, for his part, had more or less accepted it. No one ever considered them in the need-to-know, and even if it was annoying, it hadn't gotten them permanently killed yet. It was normal. For now, he could accept it. Maybe with a little time, he and Dean could figure out what these two were hiding on their own; they hadn't made it this far by being stupid.

He flipped down the passenger side mirror and pretended to check his reflection while observing their other passengers. Not too subtle, but it was better than twisting around and staring at them.

Kiku Honda looked no different then he normally did. It was starting to get just a little bit creepy. Sam had seen the young man's expression change exactly twice, once when describing the demon's intentions, and again when grabbing Francis from behind in an admirable but futile attempt to hold him still. Even now, his dark eyes were unreadable, his face emotionless. Earlier, when they'd had a moment alone, Dean had muttered something about ninjas. The comparison was clear.

Matthew Williams was also hard to read, but for an entirely different reason. Actually, he was clearly failing to follow Kiku's example; the problem was that he just looked so plain. Sam was having trouble just focusing on his face without losing interest or getting distracted by a bush they passed on the side of the road. After a moment of intense concentration, Sam managed to register his expression and body language. The kid was stone-faced, but there was a tightness around his jaw as though his teeth were clenched. His eyebrows were relaxed, but his eyes blazed. One hand gripped his seat, nails digging into the upholstery. The other was curled tightly in the thick scruff fur of the white bear, which lay nestled in his lap.

What Kiku was thinking at the moment was anyone's guess. Matthew, on the other hand, was very obviously pissed.

Sam was pretty sure he understood why. The hug had been a dead giveaway; whoever Francis was, or had been, the hug Matthew had given him was the kind of hug Sam would give Dean.

Or... or Bobby.

So yeah, Sam was pretty sure he understood.

"You sure we need to go north?" Dean spoke up so suddenly that Sam nearly started in his seat. His brother had nudged his way into the right lane, intending to take the next opportunity to leave the highway and stop for gas.

"Yes." Matthew's voice was terse. His eyes were fixed on the bear in his lap. "She's going after whole nations. Closest one she can get to when she's done with America is Canada."

"What about Mexico?" Sam pointed out.

"Canada's really big."

"I still don't get this 'whole nation' thing," Dean broke in, as Matthew switched his attention to his window. "Can you at least tell us how it works?"

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a soft, nervous growl from Kumajiro. Sam watched his brother from the corner of his eye; Dean was tensing with annoyance.

"To be honest, we are not sure either," Kiku finally replied, in the same smooth, emotionless tone with which he said everything. "We are hoping that Arthur might explain things when he arrives."

"Really?" Dean replied skeptically. "Because you sure sounded like you knew what was going on before."

"It is not easy for me to admit ignorance," came the even reply. His voice was as blank as his face.

"That's a gas station," Matthew spoke up suddenly. Dean, having found an exit, was pulling off the road into a small collection of establishments that barely deserved the title of a "town". Sure enough, there was a visible Chevron sign up ahead.

"...Yes?" Dean answered, sounding bemused.

"This is a major highway, right? A lot of motorists."

"And?" Sam prompted.

"It's closed." Matthew paused, opening his window to get a better view. "And so's the Super 8 behind it. And the Denny's. And that McDonalds – maple, Alfred wouldn't be happy to see that."

"That can't be right," Sam muttered, noting the name on the exit sign. "Didn't we stop here a week ago, Dean?"

"I think so," his brother said absently, as he drove past newly shut down chain restaurants, stores, and gas stations. Beyond the pitiful financial state of the place, there were practically no cars in sight; in fact, the only ones that Sam could see were quickly pulling out onto the highway.

The place was deserted.

"Holy crap." Dean's eyebrows were furrowed. "I mean, it's not like this place was jumping, but how does a ghost town pop up this fast?"

"I don't think we'll find out much by hanging around here," Matthew murmured, but Sam barely heard him.

"Let's try the next stop," he suggested. "We have enough gas?"

"We should," Dean replied, and pulled back out onto the highway.

As it happened, the next four exits fared no better. Dean was worriedly eying the fuel light by the time he pulled off at the fifth, where a mercifully still-open Texaco stood just across the road.

As Dean guided the minivan to a halt next to the pump, Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Running out of gas on the side of the road, surrounded by ghost towns, was something he was glad to avoid. Beside him, Dean was already climbing out, muttering about how suburban soccer moms didn't need good mileage. Matthew hopped out as well, and shut the door as quickly as he could before any bystanders could catch sight of the bear.

"Bathroom," the kid said shortly, and jogged across the street to the Food Mart, Kiku darting to catch up. Sam exchanged a single glance with his brother before following them. Ever prepared, he hid his knife under his jacket, within easy reach. He doubted that he'd have to use it on either of them, but one never knew where a demon might pop up, especially during times like these. Frankly, going to the bathroom armed was a fact of life for any reasonably experienced hunter.

Sam Winchester was definitely there to keep an eye on them. A shadow would have been a cause for concern for most people, but most people weren't Canada.

The nation kept his mouth shut in the bathroom, didn't make a noise, and even tried to quiet his footsteps. He normally didn't have to put much effort into this sort of thing, but hunters like the Winchesters made a career of noticing things that the rest of humanity was blind to. So he simply relaxed, kept quiet, and finally, after washing his hands, slipped his phone out of his pocket. It was an experiment; anyone with their guard up like Sam probably would have called him on it.

The human was looking straight at him, and his expression never changed from that strange mixture of boredom and wariness. Steeling himself, Canada looked down at his phone and checked his messages.

He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. The human blinked, opened his mouth as if to speak, and Canada's heart leapt to his throat.

Then Japan pulled down a paper towel, and the resulting rattle and rustle proved to be a sufficient distraction. The human glanced to the other nation, and Canada knew he would promptly forget that his attention had ever been elsewhere.

That was what everyone did. For once, it was a blessing.

He had one message, from France. Has England contacted you with a meeting place yet?

Canada's thumb brushed over the screen as he sent his reply. No. I told him what happened with you. He's pretty pissed.

There was a pause, and then –

:P

I'll contact you when he does, Canada replied, fighting the urge to snicker. He considered continuing the conversation, but he decided not to press his luck while Sam was in the room.