Havenwood, NY

The past few days had been something of a blur for Anya. Between keeping her scheduled shifts at the hospital and keeping Ben alive and as pain-free as possible as he recovered from whatever ordeal had brought him to Zee's door, she hadn't been sleeping much. Luckily she'd pulled enough doubles and even triples in her time to be used to surviving on coffee and power naps for a few days.

She shuffled in, stifling a yawn as she drained the last of the coffee she'd made before leaving the house as she put her things away in her locker. Then she made a beeline for the coffee maker at the nurse's station. A few of the newer nurses were standing nearby, gossipping and twittering softly among themselves. Anya just rolled her eyes with a sigh and refilled her cup, before walking a couple of steps over to Nadine, one of the other veteran nurses.

"What is this time?" Anya asked, looking back at the younger nurses. "Pretty new patient? Or does Paul have a new boyfriend again?"

"Neither, but I'm sure Paul's hoping things go his way," Nadine chuckled, shaking her head before she nodded in the direction of a small clump of doctors several feet away. "Look who decided to come back."

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Anya had been holding a deep seated guilt ever since she had quietly threatened Ben after his crash landing in Zee's yard. While he'd been staying at her home, it had largely been while he was resting or she was working, and it wasn't until the day before that they had finally been able to sit and have the long overdue talk they needed. It had seemed to put them back on track, at least in her mind; she could see once again the bright eyed boy who had a painfully obvious crush on her daughter, and felt reassured he wouldn't betray them.

To build on their mutual good faith, she decided to stop by the store after she was done with her shift at the hospital. It was a recipe she recalled sharing with the Turner boys' mother a lifetime ago, one that had been reported back to her as quickly becoming Ben's favorite. She hoped it still was as she carefully walked the aisles, plucking ingredients from their displays and carefully arranging them in her basket. She saved the seafood for last, patiently waiting as the young man behind the counter handed her white paper wrapped packets of shrimp, clams, salmon, cod, and halibut.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed, save for a fresh loaf of bread, she thanked the young man and turned toward the bakery section, almost running into a man standing close to her.

"Oh, forgive me," she said quickly, before she froze, her brow furrowing as she looked up to see Ben standing there.

She opened her mouth to chastise him for being out of bed, until the realization struck her. It wasn't Ben. Her senses caught up to her; his scent was wrong, his hair was different... Her eyes went wide a the impossibility became the only option.

"Alex?" she asked, momentarily breathless. "It is you?"

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After being on the run for three days straight and dropping in on his childhood friend—Literally—Ben slept for nearly three days straight once he'd gotten settled at Anya's. Not only did the injuries he incurred falling onto Zee's roof take its toll, but the silver in his body had nearly sapped everything he had. Ben only woke long enough to use the bathroom or eat or drink something at Anya's insistence. When he finally opened his eyes on the third day, it was to see a sun high in the sky filtered through a pair of sheer curtains. Relief flooded through him. He had half-wondered if the last three days had been a dream and now that he was awake to see it, the feeling of safety that went through him like a wave threatened to nearly overwhelm him. In that moment, he wished his twin was there because he sure as hell could use a hug from Alex. Someone needed to tell him it was okay now. Someone needed to pinch him. Deep down, though, he knew this feeling was only going to be temporary.

The Taiga would come for their pound of flesh. Especially if they knew not one, but two, that had escaped their clutches were residing in the sleepy little town of Havenwood. At this thought, Ben heaved a sigh and turned his attention to the room.

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It had started Wednesday when renovations in the store and flat next door began. In hindsight (ha!), Declan should've known things would get progressively worse as the solstice drew closer, but more often than not the more attention you gave a spirit the more power you gave them. At least, that had been his experience. Things were always different here in Havenwood. Perhaps it was the leylines, perhaps it was the fact that the town sat near a faerie portal. Who really knew? What started out as harmless cold spots, wall scratching, and lights flickering had progressed to object displacement and then object throwing as of that afternoon when Declan had jumped into action.

He had been playfully flirting with Ms. Lautari in the shop as they were returning items to the shelves when he sensed a book careening toward them. Declan grabbed Prudence, narrowly avoiding the book but the two had crashed into the nearest bookcase as a result, disturbing it's contents; A small cauldron toppled off the top shelf, using Declan's head to cushion its fall. Suffice it to say, it appeared as if the witch would need stitches after the gifted woman had cleaned the gash on his head so off the two went to Havenwood General.

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Her words ripped a laugh from those very lips that hers ghosted before the sound abruptly halted, his ribs protesting the movement. A noise of pain replaced the laugh—Why did she have to make him laugh?!—yet a grin mixed with a pained expression still remained on his face.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Rug Rat," he quipped back as Ben painstakingly settled back upon the bed.

Winded slightly from the effort, he lay there a moment with his eyes closed and once again regretting the events that got him into this situation. Seeing Zee again, though, would never be among those regrets. Opening his eyes, they turned upon the weretiger when he caught his breath, his expression soft and a little anxious.

"Will you stay?" He murmured, "At least until I fall asleep again?"

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It had been a year almost to the day that he escaped the iron fist of the Taiga when a group connected to the clan found him near the Canadian border. In hindsight, Ben had been stupid. The strategy had always been to say no more than two months in a place before moving on. He'd been pushing through nearly three in North Bay when he'd broken up the wrong fight in the bar he worked at. Realizing his blunder too late after the looks he'd gotten by a few members of the group, they caught up with him three days later outside his cabin while he was transferring supplies from his car to the kitchen. Despite getting the drop on him, Ben was able to take out two before the scuffle got serious between him and the remaining three. Fearing that one of them would clip him if he took flight to escape, Ben used everything he had on him to bring down the rest when he was rushed.

Ben had not been known for grandstanding during his fights and in the beginning he was not particularly popular due to his efficiency. That unpopular efficiency, however, had earned him his popularity later because of its brutality. That same brutality echoed through the clearing that made up his front yard as fists thunked against muscled flesh, chased with grunts of pain while fingers curled around limbs and snapped bones. Short-lived screams cut through the muted symphony only to end suddenly as a hand chopped at a throat, cutting off air. The performance came to an abrupt halt when the bark of a gun created a temporary cacophony of noise that ended with Ben's screams scattering through the trees on the frantic beat of startled wings.

As he hit the ground, the shifter could smell and taste the tang of copper on his tongue thanks to the inside of his cheek being cut by his teeth when he'd been punched in the face. But that was nothing compared to the fire that ripped through his shoulder, side, and back when he turned to flee, stumbling briefly from the pain. The sound of tearing fabric could be heard in Ben's scramble to rid himself of his shirt and despite the agony of his shoulder, he threw himself into the sky, shifting into a Barred Owl, and took flight. After that, Ben didn't have much recollection of anything else. It took everything he had to keep his concentration on flying and not lose his form thousands of feet up. He stopped only a few times to rest, digging out the bullets that he could and cursing whoever had been the smart enough to load the mag with silver ones.

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