A/N: I have not abandonned this story! Seriously, my summer got real hectic and then school started up again. Updates are going to take a while, but I'm definitely going to see this to the end. Also, I love you all so much for the reviews and things. You have no idea how happy those made me.

Regarding languages, I'm sticking to relatively common terms and phrases for the foreign languges that will appear in any of my stories. Japan will be the only country that will be using Japanese suffixes, of course, but I did have a rather lengthy debate with myself over having Finland use "Su-san". It's canon, but at the same time it doesn't have much of a point anywhere else. So he doesn't use it.

For anyone that reads my "Resilient North" story, I'm revising the second chapter and I should be updating it in the next couple of weeks. Anyhoo, here's something to make things easier for you (I'll update this list as people switch cars):

Nice Car: Canada, Finland, Sweden, Lithuania, Poland, Spain, S. Italy

Quasi-Nice Car: Turkey, Greece, Japan, China, Korea, Austria, Germany, N. Italy

Mean Car: England, France, America, Russia, Belarus, Switzerland, Prussia, Hungary

Red Light.

"Sweden, I think we're circling the hotel." Sweden didn't respond, watching England's car turn left at the light, followed by Austria's. He stepped lightly on the gas and followed suit.

Finland was right, of course, and all three vehicles had been looping around the hotel for the better part of twenty minutes like a kettle of cumbersome vultures. They weren't sure, either, if England was aware of leading the entire troupe around or if he thought that they were actually making progress. It was hard to tell.

"We should call him." Spain yelled all the way from the back. Sweden kept his stoic gaze on the SUV in front while Finland turned in his seat to look in the back.

"Does anyone have his number?" Poland and Lithuania shrugged. Spain seemed at a loss. South Italy seemed beyond caring. Canada fished around in his sweatshirt for a moment, finally producing his cell phone. He flipped it open and scanned his address book.

"Uh-- Here." He gave the phone to Finland who smiled in thanks.

* * *

While Germany constantly wore a look that spoke of how much he wished that he'd stayed home on any given day, the one that he wore now told that he was ready and waiting for the end of the world to rip him from the face of the Earth so that he would no longer have to admit that he was acquainted with the people he was surrounded by now. To his dismay, the end of the world was a long way off, he was stuck seated on top of three suitcases packed with what he was sure was liquor, and they hadn't even left the vicinity of the hotel.

"Ludwig, look at that lady's dress!" Italy had managed to press himself up close to the window, pinning a rather, for once, uncomfortable looking Korea. Germany's face was stony and it was a wonder that he never developed a canyon between his brows where they were always creased.

"I've seen the dress. We've driven past that woman three times Feliciano." Germany responded, releasing the air he'd been keeping bottled up in his lungs as a precautionary measure.

In the front seat, Austria was already struggling to repress the urge to mow down the flocks of pedestrians on the sidewalks and China had leaned forward to rest his head on the dash.

"Why are we going in circles, aru?"

Austria, all kinds of uncomfortable in his jeans and t-shirt, had hunched himself over the wheel in a sad endeavor to avoid screaming at anyone in close proximity.

"I have no idea. Does anybody remember who's in that car?" He hissed. Japan's voice rang strained from the back seat.

"I'm not sure of anyone other than England-san. Is-- Is that car supposed to be rocking like that?"

All those with a clear view through the windshield looked at the car driving in front. Sure enough, it was teetering precariously on it's shocks and wild movement was visible through the tinted windows.

"Oh, hell." Austria spat, tightening his grip on the wheel. "They're fighting."

* * *

It took three rings before anyone could hear England's cell phone over the cacophony that had erupted in the SUV. It took three calls before anyone felt the need to break from their verbal death match to address it.

"What is that bloody noise!?"

"I am not sure, Angleterre. Could it be that digital menace on the dash leading us in circles, the unintelligible bickering in the back--" As if to emphasize what France was saying, a distinctive female voice rose above the other cries for personal space to declare with undeniable vehemence that if it's owner was touched again then the offender would be taking an unpleasant trip back into the Age of Imperialism. "-- or could it be your ugly little phone?"

England responded to France's jab with a noise that could only be described as a growl before he took the same left that he'd managed to memorize in the twenty minutes they'd been circling the hotel again much too sharply-- consequently throwing the prim blond against his door. Panicked shrieks burst forth from the back. Namely because it had resulted in Switzerland being flattened in a rather compromising way by his fellow trunk-dwellers. Belarus herself had taken the sealing of the confined space as a sign that there was no chance that her brother could escape her and had seized the opportunity with gusto-- much to the dismay of the two world powers seated at her right. The turn wasn't helping them fight her off.

"Answer your phone England!" America. His voice was choked and ready to snap.

"I'M DRIVING! DO YOU WANT TO DIE!?" That was signal enough for a complete collapse in the back of the car.

"At this point-- YES!"

"Don't you dare let her touch me Am-- Aah! Ostebis' wed'ma!"

"Back off you doll-eyed groper!"

"Stop the fucking car-- I want out!" Which was accompanied by violent pummeling at one of the windows in the trunk.

"IF YOU DON'T GET OFF OF ME!--"

"She's gonna rip my dick off—!!" Shrill. But it might've been Prussia.

"Brother!"

"You're not helping– Russia!"

"SHUTUPSHUTUP! I CAN'T CONCENTRATE!"

France, recovering from the blotched vision that had resulted from his head-to-window contact, reached over and yanked England's phone out of his coat pocket when it began to ring for the eighth time. Just as the Englishman, in a blaze of obscenities and faulty curses, turned the wheel and floored the gas-- sending the SUV careening into the parking lot of a nearby gas station.

* * *

"Bonjour~"

"Oh, hello France. Why're you answering England's phone?"

"Should I ask why you are using Canada's?" Finland laughed, albeit anxiously. Even if they were the third car in the line-up, they'd seen the first car weaving through the lanes.

"Um, I was calling to say--"

"We are going in circles? Yes, we are very aware of that-- small mishap with this demonic thing..." The airy tone on the other end of the line paused long enough to give the Finnish man a brief snippet of a rather heated, multi-national argument going on somewhere in France's car.

"Um, I don't see your guys' car..."

"We have pulled into a gas station to.... collect ourselves. Go around one more time and meet us. Austria is already pulling in."

* * *

All six occupants of the front seats stood in a circle outside of the gas station while the passengers of their cars waged war with the child locks.

"How do we get out of the city?"

"We could ask America. This is his house, aru." All six pairs of eyes looked back at the car that had been jerking on it's axles. The vehicle was still now, but muffled screaming could be heard all the way from where they were standing next to the little convenient store adjacent the gas pumps.

"America's a little predisposed at the moment." The thick-browed Englishman was massaging his temples. His face was finally returning to it's natural color.

"We are not using GPS this entire trip. If that's the case I will sit outside of that hotel until my boss comes to get me." Austria had removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"Let's give it one more shot." Finland smiled hopefully. "If this happens again then we can just wing it."

No one looked as hopeful. Austria turned on his heel and marched to where the cars were parked. He whipped the driver's seat of the first car open and, ignoring the desperate pleas to be released from the backseat, ripped the GPS off of the dash. The five nations left standing next to the store were a bit slow on the uptake, only just starting to run at the Austrian when he hucked the small device across the street and into the side of an aged looking brick building.

With horror, twenty-two pairs of eyes all from different vantage points in cars or next to the gas pumps watched as a small flock of elderly women stepped over the remains of the only GPS device that they'd been given. Roderich however, seemed rather accomplished as he whirled around (slamming the car door shut again before Prussia could claw his way out) and bore down on the other five.

"Go into the store and buy a map, we're doing this the old fashioned way!"

China and Finland gaped a little longer before deciding they should probably do as they were told, lest the Germanic nation fly into a homicidal rage. Those that remained just continued to stare at Austria.

"It's like Jekyll and Hyde." England whispered to France, as Austria went to go and situate himself back in the car that he'd vacated ten minutes ago. France nodded, rubbing the bruise on his jaw reflexively.

"It must be the jeans, mon ami."

* * *

A half hour later, they were finally on the road.

Ostebis' wed'ma- Fuck off, witch.