The dark specter was standing over him again, looming closer and closer. North tried backing away, doing anything to just get some distance between them, but his limbs were heavy and unresponsive. The specter seemed to know. It glided forwards until its edges blotted out his view of everything else.

North wrapped his arms around himself, desperately fighting down the pounding fear that always accompanied the specter's arrival. It kept showing up time and time again. How long had it been? Days? Months? Years? In this dark dreamscape, nothing made sense. There was no time, no reality. He was drowning in black.

Out of the shadows, he heard a soft voice.

"It's okay, North. You can beat this."

A phantom touch rested briefly on his shoulder.

"You are not alone."

The specter took offense to the sudden fading of fear. A low hiss came from it as it pressed its attack, forcing more memories into North's mind. Blood. Terror. Pain.

North flinched at the sudden influx, but determinedly threw up a mental wall.

"No."

Shadows roiled around the edges of his wall, snarling as they tried to find their way in.

"No," North said again, his voice stronger. He forced the darkness away from him. "I'm not afraid of you!"

A glow of light leapt into being at his words. It shattered the shadows, and the veil ripped open.

He was going to be okay.

As opposed to all the other times he had struggled back into the waking world, North woke up as simply as a light switch being thrown. One moment it was dark, the next it was… slightly less dark.

North's eyes flickered open. The shadowy walls of a familiar room met his gaze. Still in a half dreamy state, he took a deep breath, noticing that most of the pain that had been plaguing him had vanished. His fingers curled around the soft edge of a blanket, whose comfortable weight was settled over him.

North turned his head to the left, following the weak stream of natural light that came peeking through the thick dark blue curtains draped in front of a window. It illuminated enough for him to confirm what he had earlier thought. This was Ireland's house. He had stayed in this bedroom many times before. A quick stab of nostalgia made an appearance.

Slowly, North pushed himself upright into a sitting position. He winced as he rested against the carved wooden headboard. The pain might be gone, but a new weakness seemed to have settled into his limbs. He felt shaky and more than a little frail.

Turning back to his right, North blinked in surprise, then smiled at the sight of a familiar figure slumbering in the room's armchair.

Scotland's head rested on his shoulder, his chest rising and falling gently in time with his breathing. Scattered shafts of sunlight highlighted fragments of color. The pale white of his loose shirt, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, and the fiery red of his mussed hair stood out among the more subdued hues in the darkened room. The older nation's face looked much more peaceful as he slept. His sharp features were softened in a way that was rarely seen by others.

As if sensing the gaze that was being cast upon him, Scotland stirred, his own eyes opening. Muddled with sleep for a moment, his gaze met North's, who was quietly staring back. The Scottish nation's eyes widened.

"North!" he exclaimed, sitting upright. Scotland grinned a wide, exultant smile that North hadn't seen on his face in a long time. "You're awake!"

North managed a wry smile back, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Evidently." His voice was soft and hoarse from disuse.

Scotland snorted at the response as he got up, moving to the window. He pulled back the curtains, tying them off and letting bright morning light stream readily into the room. The recognizable green of Ireland's countryside was perceivable through the opening. Scotland came back over to the bed, seating himself in the smaller wooden chair that was next to it. From his stiff movements, North surmised he must have been in the armchair for a while. "So," his older brother said, checking North's forehead with the back of his hand. "How do you feel?"

North grimaced slightly, ducking away from the hand. "Like I've just recovered from getting trampled by a rampaging America," he answered honestly.

Scotland grinned again at the description before sobering up. "You had us all worried there for a while," he said quietly. "You were out for so long…" His brow creased at the memory of the anxiety they had all shared. "We didn't know if you were going to wake up-"his voice dropped. "If we had gotten to you in time or not."

North didn't reply as he stared down at the gray woolen blanket covering his lap. His fingers dug into the thick fabric as a few haunting memories came floating back, taunting him. He shook his head, banishing the dark thoughts from his mind.

"Well," he said, looking up again. "I'm awake and well now, so it looks like you did." North attempted a smile. It came out a bit small, and a bit strained, but real enough. Scotland seemed to relax a hair at the sight of it.

North frowned slightly as he pondered something his brother had just said. "Just how long was I asleep?"

"Since we brought you home?" Scotland's tone was muted. "Four days."

North gently pressed one of his hands to his chest. "Oh." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Scotland's expression. It was wane and solemn, two things he had never associated with perhaps the most spit-fire of his elder brothers. Coming to a quick decision, North pulled his legs up and pushed the covers back, belatedly realizing that he was wearing pajamas.

"Oi, what are you doing?" Scotland asked, making to stand up.

"What does it look like? I'm getting up," North replied, swinging his legs over so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. At Scotland's raised eyebrow, the younger nation made a face. "What? You said I've been stuck in here for the better part of a week. It's time I moved." He carefully tested his weight on the floor, and grimaced as his legs trembled and threatened to collapse. "On second thought, I think I may need you to help me up."

Scotland grumbled as he looped a strong arm under North's, taking some of the strain off. "First off, it doesn't count as being stuck somewhere if you were unconscious the whole time," the Scottish nation protested. "And four days is not the better part of a week!"

"It's more than half." "Barely." "It still counts." Though they were bickering good-naturedly, North appreciated that his brother hadn't stopped him in his decision to get up. Their progress down the hall was slow, due to North having to lean heavily on Scotland every step. They made it to the living room with a small amount of difficulty.

Their entrance was unnoticed by the other occupants. North paused in the archway, taking in the unusual sight of all of his brothers in the same room with mild shock. They weren't even arguing; they just looked so … natural with each other. Wales was slumped in the corner of the coach, looking half sleep and nodding off into his hand. England sat beside him, legs crossed and nursing a cup of tea. Ireland occupied the armchair across from them. He was reading a newspaper, though from the slightly glazed look in his eyes it was apparent that he wasn't really paying much attention to its content.

"Oi," Scotland called out from where the two of them were standing. "Guess who decided to finally wake up."

Three heads, each sporting a different hue, snapped up in various degrees of alertness.

"North!" Setting his teacup down hurriedly, England sprang to his feet and approached them. He frowned in concern, checking North's forehead in the same manner Scotland had a few minutes previously. "Are you sure you should be up? You're still recovering, and it-"

"Blimey, Albion, say hello first," admonished Wales, coming up besides England. He grinned at North and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Good to see you up." The Welsh nation turned back to his blond brother and shoved his shoulder, smirking. "All right there, mother hen? Need a minute to unruffle your feathers?"

England batted the hand away, a faint tinge of red creeping up his cheeks. "Stop that! I was just making sure…" England coughed and turned back to North and Scotland, both who were watching the proceedings with humor and exasperation. He smiled suddenly, a genuine, heartfelt smile that North hadn't seen in a long time. "It is good to see you up again," England said softly.

North grinned back. A movement registered in the corner of his eye, and he looked over to see Ireland standing there a few feet away. The Irish nation's face was unreadable as he looked at his youngest brother. North's smile faded a bit.

"Hey, Éire," he greeted softly. He took in his eldest brother's appearance, from the mussed hair and the dark shadows under his eyes, to his uncertain posture and rumpled clothes. North smiled wryly, attempting humor. "You look about as bad as I feel."

Ireland blinked for a moment. Then, shaking his head, the older nation moved forwards swiftly and grabbed North in a fierce hug. North stiffened in surprise as his brother's arms enveloped him firmly, then relaxed into the embrace. He could feel Scotland as he moved away a pace, letting Ireland stay supporting North.

North left his face buried in Ireland's shirt, taking in the comforting smell of wool, grass, and water that his brother carried. He was strongly reminded of the time Mother Britannia had come and held him.

Ireland finally spoke, his voice a bit rough. "Do me a favor, and let's not have this happen again?" He chuckled weakly. "I'm too old for this."

"So…" North absentmindedly nursed his warm cup of tea. "Magic."

England nodded. "Yes, we were a bit surprised as well." Scotland snorted. "Gobsmacked is more like it," the Scottish nation corrected.

"Do you know what happened?" Ireland asked from where he had re-seated himself on the armchair. The five of them had settled back into the living room, with North taking a new position on the coach. North took a sip of his tea, quietly savoring the warmth it spread through his cold body, before answering.

"I think so. After a… session-" unbeknown to himself, he shivered at the sudden memory that sprang up at the mention. His brothers exchanged dark looks. "-I had a dream. I was back home, in a forest." Here North hesitated, not sure of how to go on. "I met Mum."

That got everyone else's attention. Ireland straightened up, staring intently at North. England and Wales looked shocked, Scotland, thoughtful.

"Britannia came to you?" England asked, surprise evident in his tone. North nodded.

"She… helped me." North smiled at that memory. It was one he would never be afraid of. "She said I was her child, even though I was established in the modern era, and that I had magic. It just needed to be unlocked, and that was up to me." He shrugged. "Later…" He took a deep breath. "I… was scared, and there was a light. In my head." North frowned as he struggled to explain what it felt like. "When I caught it, it felt like… like I had found something that had always been missing. And you know what happened next." North stared awkwardly downwards at his steaming tea.

There were a few moments of silence as his brothers digested this new information.

"Well," Ireland said. "I guess it's high time you've had some magic lessons." The heavy mood in the room lifted. North snorted.

"Magic lessons? What am I, twelve?" He grinned teasingly at the elder Irish nation.

Ireland scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, please. You need to know. Besides, we already taught you the basics, so you should pick up the rest pretty fast." He grinned back slyly. "The operative word being should."

"Oi!"

"Which means you're stuck with us for a while," Scotland said cheerily, draping an arm over North's shoulder. "We can't have you running about blowing holes in the charming countryside." He pulled a mock horrified face. "Think of what the Queen would say."

"Wanker, show some respect for royalty!"

"Oh, but I am, dearest Albion."

"That'll be the day…"

"Oi, Cymru, whose side are you on?!"

"My own, moron, so I don't have to put up with you lot all the time…"

North got up quietly as the three of them continued their heated and completely ridiculous argument. He made his way into the kitchen, trailing the thick blanket one of his brothers had wrapped around his shoulders across the hardwood floor. He set his half full cup down on the counter, and sat himself gently on the bench. North pulled the blanket tighter around himself, shivering. He still felt icy, though not as much as he had earlier.

A man's face, with that disturbing smile, flashed across his vision. Shall we try again, Northern Ireland?

North shuddered, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't forget. He wished that he could, but he knew that he would always remember all of it. For as long as he was here on this earth, he would remember.

"Hey." A soft voice broke his thoughts, and he started, lifting his head. Ireland had entered the room without him noticing, and was standing beside him, concern in his eyes. He laid a hand on his shoulder, frowning when North flinched involuntarily. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." North rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Just some…" He paused, and then sighed. "No, I'm not." Ireland hesitated at the tone in his voice, and then sat down next to North.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ireland asked quietly. North shook his head.

"Not really," he admitted. He bit his lip. "I don't think I'm ready yet." North winced and slumped back in his chair. A pregnant pause filled the still air.

"I want to forget," North finally whispered. "But I can't. I don't want to remember any of it, but they keep coming back, and I can still hear his voice-" North's voice broke.

Ireland reached across the small space separating them and drew him closer so that North's head rested on his shoulder. The younger brother leaned bonelessly into the Irish nation, letting himself take reassurance in his soothing presence.

Ireland spoke. "It's going to be okay, Thuaidh." He pressed his lips gently into his younger brother's ruffled ginger hair. "Do you remember what I told you, all those years back?"

North's voice came back muffled by the fabric of Ireland's shirt. "You said that you'd never leave me."

Ireland smiled, evidently a little surprised that he had remembered. "That's right. None of us are going anywhere."

"Because we're family." Ireland glanced up at the sound of England's voice. The other three had apparently gotten over their spat, and had made their way into the kitchen as well.

Scotland, Wales, and England all set themselves down besides the two different Irish nations, joining the small comfort huddle.

North felt himself drifting off to sleep, finally warm with all of his brothers around him. Their words echoed in his mind as his eyes closed and he slipped into the welcoming arms of dreamland.

"And family will always be there for you."

Fine

I am not sorry. So I like happy endings. Sue me.

I did it, guys! I FINISHD MY FIRST MULTI CHAPTER FIC! *flails and runs around the house from excitement*

Thank you to all my lovely followers and favoriters, and of course, my fabulous reviewers, who without I would have become disheartened a long time ago. You guys are AWESOME.

Please drop a review before you go, and tell me how you think I did! I would love to hear your opinion.