Notes: I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed for staying with me thus far. I'm actually winding the story down now. Maybe two or three chapters after this. Endings are always the toughest part, and I feel I made a bit of a mistake posting this story before it was finished. Still, there were a few things that I feel were improved due to feedback. Those who reviewed, thank you so much for that.

Warnings: None.

They were back in motion. This, at least, was familiar. This was something Steve could do other than watch his friends languish under the stress this entire messy affair had wrought on them. Steve was a man of action, and his earlier inability to do more than wait to see how time would treat them had been painful at best.

He would have liked it if Clint had put the quinjet down in the Morgan family's front yard. That certainly would have made a statement.

Ironically, it was Tony who put a stop to that kind of thinking.

"Their house is the size of a postage stamp," the engineer said wryly. "They have no yard, and we'll cause an accident if we land in the street. Do you really want that kind of negative attention? Let's keep this under the radar, Cap."

Tony was right, of course. Steve reigned in the savage desire to rush in and take down anyone who dared hurt his friend. He ruthlessly shoved aside the righteous kid who wanted nothing more than to swing wildly and to hell with the likelihood that it would only get him soundly beaten. He was smarter than that.

The quinjet could move faster, but Clint was taking it easy. Though Hank and Bruce had both declared him healthy enough to be released from the hospital, Tony was still a bit frail. Hank had not liked the idea of Tony in a plane, no matter how advanced. Steve suspected it had everything to do with why Clint was flying much slower than usual.

Being that they were traveling at such an easy pace, he took advantage of the extra time and planned out their course of action. Of course, doing this required a certain amount of patience and finesse. He needed Cassie's cooperation, after all.

It was very awkward in the plane. Clint and Natasha had it easy up in the cockpit. In the back, they had crammed in five passengers, which was at least three more than usual. Usually Tony and Thor flew under their own power unless they were traveling long distances. Though the distance was not so terrible—certainly not as far as Thor had traveled in the past—the man had joined them in the quinjet. Steve suspected he wanted to keep an eye on the proceedings. For obvious reasons, Tony was not using the Iron Man armor. And then there was Cassie.

They had strapped the intruder in Tony Stark's guise into place. Cassie was not restrained aside from the seatbelt, and there really was no need for it. Aside from having promised cooperation, there was no way Cassie could escape the Avengers. Tony might have managed it, but that girl in his body was not nearly clever enough to get away should she decide she no longer wished to cooperate.

In effort to keep the peace, Bruce and Tony sat about as far from Cassie as they could manage. Thor and Steve took turns acting as a wall between the three of them, but it was still a tense ride. Steve was afraid to make it worse, but he hated rushing blindly into things.

"So this… ceremony," he said when they were somewhere over the Midwest. "Does it require more than the book?"

Cassie looked up at him, the uncertainty on the haggard face. For once, it seemed she had not gotten any sleep, and it showed in the darkness around Stark's eyes.

"A couple herbs," she murmured. "Hair."

"Hair," Steve echoed flatly.

"Mine," Cassie explained hesitantly. "Her—his. Mr. Stark's."

A glance at Tony revealed that he was listening but pointedly ignoring Cassie either way. His hard stare was focused somewhere on the floor, body tense where it leaned against Bruce's arm.

"These herbs," Steve forced himself back to Cassie. "Do you have them, or will we have to go shopping?"

"They're not things you can get in the baking aisle," Cassie told him.

It was suddenly like speaking with Stark when he was in lecture mode. This was the one place where Cassie knew something none of the rest of them did. She sensed it and became instantly more confident. Steve had seen it happen in other people, and he was unsurprised to see it happen here.

"They have to be solid and dried. I have a friend who knows how to get some."

"You should have told us this before we left," Bruce said peevishly. "Shockingly, I also know where to procure rare ingredients."

The confidence crumbled, and the Stark doppelganger was gone, curled back into the anxious, frightened Cassie. Steve did not approve of knocking the girl down as Bruce had done, but he was somewhat grateful not to have to make the separations in his head. It was hard enough seeing the body and knowing it was not actually Tony in there. When Cassie started actually looking and speaking like Stark, the differentiation became more challenging.

"We'll deal with it now," Steve said firmly. He glanced at his watch. "We'll get the book first. Then we'll find your friend."

"He'll be in school," Tony said wryly. He was still glaring at the floor, but he must have noticed Cassie's startled look because he spared a second to glance in her direction. "Unless you had more than one friend."

Steve caught Clint's amused snort. He did not fault the men for slinging insults—Tony, in particular, tended to be the worst in this respect when he felt he was being threatened—but it was not productive and could potentially cause Cassie to shut them out.

"Tony," he said, gentle but stern.

"What?" Tony was definitely feeling better. His attitude was back full force, and he was angry. Steve was not even sure why. With any luck, their friend would be back to normal by the end of the day. Tony should be thrilled. "Don't look at me like that, Cap. You think everyone in this bird doesn't know what it's like to have only one decent person at his back?"

"Or hers?" Natasha called back. Tony flung his arm toward her, an inclusive motion acknowledging the input.

That was actually a surprise. Steve never would have guessed that Tony—or Thor, for that matter—had ever known what it was like to feel like no one else cared what happened to him. For all that he valued his team, he had to wonder if it was good or bad that he was not making much of an attempt to learn more of their history.

Of course, now was neither the time nor the place.

"For all that he helped her do this, Ben's actually a good guy," Tony scrubbed a self-conscious hand over his shortened hair. (Steve had to admit, he had been a bit shocked when Storm had shorn the hair down almost military short. It was almost totally brown now, with only a few patchy spots of dark where the black dye had not completely grown out.) Tony's discomfort was not likely caused by his short hair. Steve suspected it had more to do with whatever he felt he was admitting. "He thought I was nuts, but he still hung around."

"You told him?" Cassie asked softly.

Tony sneered, physically recoiling from the question—or, more likely, the fact that it had come from Cassie.

"Yeah. He humored me, but I don't think he really believed it."

"Did you tell him everything?"

"Afraid I told him about Uncle Danny?" Tony retorted.

Steve looked at him sharply, because there was no denying the hostility this time. Fortunately Bruce was there, muttering in Tony's ear until their angry friend hunched in on himself and turned away from the conversation. It was with true teenage disaffection that he crossed his arms, kicked out his feet, and resumed his blank perusal of the jet's floor. He could have said it was the body, but Steve knew Tony had always been good at putting on an apathetic mask.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Steve glanced up. Thor looked solemnly down at him.

"None of us look forward to encountering young Cassandra's family," Thor said, keeping his voice unusually low. "Until this is over, perhaps we should maintain focus on the task and not the reasoning behind it."

Thor was right. The man could come off as a fool sometimes, with his unending optimism and inability to operate the toaster. (Even Steve was getting the hang of his Stark phone, while Thor had broken four in the past six months.) Sometimes he forgot there was a keen military mind behind all of that enthusiasm. When Thor made friends, he made every effort to support and understand them, even if he did not get all of the cultural details.

With Thor's simple statement, Tony's antagonistic behavior made more sense. He was not just angry—he was probably anxious, or even frightened. These people had harassed and assaulted him for weeks. The bruises on his wrists were hidden behind long sleeves, but Steve had seen him in the clinic last night. They were fading, but there was little doubt that someone had grabbed and held him with brutal force. Geez, Tony had just gotten released from the hospital after undergoing some horribly unpleasant sounding procedure involving female parts and processes, and…

Steve was not even comfortable thinking about it. He could not imagine what it was like living through it. Bad enough for someone adapted to being female, but Tony was a forty-year-old man. He could not possibly have been mentally prepared for anything like this, and now they were taking him back to where it all began.

It was no wonder Tony was lashing out.

At least Bruce was there to keep him calm. Steve was not quite sure what was going on between those two, but he had to admit it was a good thing. Bruce looked calm, and Tony needed a steady hand. (Not that Steve would ever tell him that. He knew better than to open that can of worms.) For all that he was the Hulk, Bruce was a soothing presence. Adding him to Tony Stark's entourage of important people could only be an improvement.

Steve was not sure about Colonel Rhodes, but he suspected Pepper would be quite happy with this development.

"Right," Steve said. It was abrupt after that long silence, but he did not particularly care. "By the time we get the book, school should be up. We'll pick up Cassie's friend and procure the herbs we need to make this work. Does this… ceremony have to be done anyplace special?"

Cassie was watching them warily now. It was strange seeing that kicked dog look on Stark's face. Tony never would have allowed such an expression to show. But that wasn't Tony, Steve knew, and the look got a little less pronounced when he offered an encouraging smile.

Cassie would never know how damn hard it was to force that smile.

La Grande was not as small as Tony would have them believe. While it was true that it was surrounded on all sides by farmland, it had a fairly decent population. Hell, it even had its own shopping mall. Not big. It was not New York, but it was not a two road town, population 35.

They landed in an empty field just outside of town a little after two. Clint and Natasha took Cassie with to the girl's home while the rest of them waited by the jet. They were aiming to keep as inconspicuous as they could for as long as possible. Ideally, they would be gone before anyone realized they had just played host to the Avengers.

Bruce could see that Steve and Thor were both chafing at being left behind. Steve tried not to let it show. He had been the one to make the final call. Even out of uniform, he and Thor were rather conspicuous individuals. It made sense for them to stay with Bruce and Tony in the jet. However, it was always difficult being the one who waited.

For his part, Bruce was happy to wait. His mind was already racing with thoughts of abusive family members and not-so-fond memories of his own unsavory childhood. If he laid eyes on anyone he thought might have laid a hand on Tony, he was certain this town would not survive. It might not be a one-horse town, but it was not prepared to handle the Hulk. As it was, he was already horribly tense.

Tony noticed.

"Want another Valium?"

Bruce blinked, momentarily distracted from his anger by the soft inquiry. He glanced at Tony, not overly surprised to note the distant gaze, focused somewhere past the winter-whitened fields.

"It's not Valium," he corrected. Valium was dangerously addictive and not healthy if taken too frequently. He hated using it. The only reason he accepted it the last time was because he was seeing green in the middle of a hospital where Tony was sleeping off sedation less than fifty yards from his position. It had been the first thing the nurses could easily provide, and he was not being choosey. "I don't want to be asleep."

"I've got four other bodyguards, big guy." Trust Tony to reach right into the heart of the matter. "The other heavy hitter is pacing in the snow outside with Captain America. The president isn't as safe as I am."

"Don't be so hard on us," Bruce said, glad for the shift of focus. "You'd be the same if it was one of us."

Tony was understandably irritable about his situation. He was obviously aiming for humor with that last comment, but Bruce could hear the bitter undertone. Tony was not a fan of needing protection. Or, and this was more likely, he was not happy knowing he needed the protection.

"Good thing it wasn't one of you," Tony mused. "Can you imagine what that girl could have done in Thor's body? Jesus, in yours?"

He was avoiding the other side of the equation. Bruce did not push it.

"We're trying to feel useful here, Tony," he said, deliberately keeping it light. "With everything that's going on, the only people who seem capable of doing anything productive are you, Cassie, and Pepper."

Tony snorted. He grabbed Bruce's wrist, turning it and then pushing it back to eye the watch. (Cassie, as they had discovered, was farsighted. Tony had long since lost track of any glasses or contacts and had to hold things at a distance to read.)

"What's wrong?" As far as Bruce was aware, they were not on a schedule.

"Ben's parents are friends with Cassie's," Tony muttered. "I was hoping to get to him before they come home from work."

He was trying to keep the rage under control. God, he was doing his best. But the thought of anyone who had been involved in this mess made him want to rush headlong into a fight.

"Did they—"

"No," Tony must have known exactly where his mind was going. "They didn't even know. I didn't go around shouting it to the town, and from what I gathered, neither did Cassie."

"And the police?"

"Deputy's a Morgan relative," Tony sighed. "I kept getting cut off at the pass. Bruce, we really need to get to Ben. If his parents see me, they might cause a stir. The police could get involved."

Bruce glanced at his watch. It was almost three. Clint and Natasha were still gone with Cassie, but they had communicators. Steve would keep them in the loop.

"We're trying to keep this quiet," he reminded Tony. "Thor and Steve won't stay behind, and even if they change clothes, Thor is pretty… notable."

"Have you seen how big teenagers are getting lately?"

Tony was up and digging into the storage tucked beneath the benches.

"Actually, I bet you'll really like Ben," Tony said as he dragged out jackets and jeans and other clothing articles Bruce had never known were there. "I told him about you. He thought I was making shit up, of course. Cassie never knew or cared about superheroes before. But I told him about you and Cap—he's a big Captain America fan boy—and I told him about Barton and… and Thor. And Phil. I told him about Phil. He deserves to be known, I think…"

This was a breakdown in the works. Bruce watched the petite form that encased Tony work, the movements jerking and rushed. Tony was trying to keep it together—that much was obvious—and rightfully so. This was not the time for hysterics. They had a lot to do and not much time in which to do it, if Tony was right about the friend.

"Get a jacket and a hat on," Bruce suggested. "I'll get Steve and Thor to come in and change. And then you can tell me why you thought a spare set of clothes would be a good use of emergency storage space."

Tony laughed, high, youthful, and brittle.

"You're just jealous that I thought of it."

Bruce shook his head and hit the release. Cold air rushed in, and he trotted down the ramp to retrieve their other team members.

"Why a change of clothes?"

Steve did not object to changing out of the uniform (though he still carried his shield, tucked away in an oversized case currently slung over his shoulder). He knew it was for the best. The stars and stripes garnered looks even in New York, where he was practically a commonplace occurrence by now. Thor's cape did make him look a bit like he had stepped straight out of the Crusades. More than anything, he was curious as to how Tony had squirreled away the clothing when he had only found out that morning, when the jet picked them up, that they were even headed for Oregon.

"And when did you do this?"

"Genius, remember? I knew we'd have to come back at some point," Tony reminded him. "Just thank my minion."

"Minion?" Thor echoed. He sounded distinctly amused.

"Seriously?"

They all received a Look when they failed to understand the reference. At least, Steve thought it was a reference. With Tony, everything was a reference to something.

Tony sighed loudly.

"Natasha. Who else in the tower would get all the sizing right? Do you have any idea what shopping for a man Thor's size is like? Big and Tall barely even covers it."

Steve was still a bit baffled as to when Tony would have made this suggestion, but he decided it was not all that important. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket and stomped his feet to shake some of the snow from the treads of his boots. It really was impressive. Natasha had even gotten the shoe sizes right.

The hike to 'Ben's' house was not terribly long. He lived about two miles into town. The problem came in the form of slippery walkways and three men who were still very worried about their fourth companion. Tony had just been released from the hospital that day—just over four hours ago—after a bout of the flu and… other things, and now they were hiking through the snow.

"Would you like some assistance, my friend?" Thor offered.

Tony was breathing harder than the rest of them, but the look Thor received made it quite clear that he had taken offense at the offer.

Steve really hoped this worked. On a good day Steve and Tony never quite agreed on everything. Add to that Steve's instinctive urge to protect someone he knew was vulnerable, and the mixture was explosive at best. It was amazing Tony had only blown up at him once since getting back.

Part of it was Bruce. With the way the scientist hovered, Steve never got close enough to step on Tony's toes. (Or to make the engineer irritated with his chauvinistically directed sense of chivalry.) Even in the plane Tony had sat close to the cockpit, Bruce between him and the rest of the jet's occupants. It had not kept Tony from sniping at Cassie, but the gesture was obvious enough.

Steve wondered what Bruce did that made Tony less annoyed by behaviors that were in the same spirit as Thor's recent offer.

"There."

Tony's sudden announcement and subsequent pointing down the street brought Steve to the here and now. He shoved aside the desire to go and stand over that small, frail girl, sternly reminding himself that, no matter what he looked like right now, that was still Tony Stark. He was the only one who knew where they were going. He was probably the only one who could effectively communicate with the boy they were seeking.

The house was a traditional two-story family house with a front porch and attached garage. It was blue, had white shutters and a bold red front door. There was even a tree in front of the house with an old tire strung up to one of its lower, heavy branches. A beat up old Chevy sat in the driveway.

"Oh good. He's home."

"The car is Ben's?" Bruce asked.

Steve wondered (and winced, just a little) at the rust lining the bottom of the vehicle. It was a sharp contrast to the otherwise perfectly kept home. Even the sidewalk was shoveled and ice free.

"His brother's."

Tony knocked on the door without offering further explanation.

"Is it creepy that I'm hoping he's the only one home?" the engineer wondered aloud. Steve could not help but smile at the comment.

"Where are you?" Natasha's voice was suddenly in his ear. All of them had two-way radios in their ears, but Steve was the only one to answer.

"We're at the friend's house," he explained. "Did you get it?"

"It took a while. The room was trashed," Clint explained. "I, for one, am disappointed that no one was home. I was looking forward to some mindless violence. But we did steal a car. How far, twerp?"

Steve was going to assume that last question was not aimed at him. The sound of Stark's voice in the background had him gritting his teeth.

It was almost over.

"Ditch the car before you get here," the real Tony said dispassionately. Despite responding to the others, his eyes were pinned on the door, his mouth twitching slightly when they heard the sound of footsteps pounding down a staircase. "This is a small town. Let's not have the police getting involved."

"We'll be there in ten minutes," Natasha declared, just as the door was yanked open.

The boy who opened the door was tall and willowy, his skinny frame emphasized by black jeans that seemed indecently tight and a dark fitted tee shirt with a woman's wildly colored visage on the front. If that were not enough, the boy's hair was unnaturally black (much as the hair on Tony's borrowed body had been before most of it was chopped off), and he appeared to be wearing eyeliner.

Huh.

Confused blue eyes considered them for a moment before settling on the small form heading their mismatched group. At this point, the boy's eyes widened almost comically.

It was a near thing, but Steve managed to keep himself from reacting violently when the boy gave a startlingly high-pitched sound, grabbed Tony, and yanked the smaller body against him in a rough embrace.

"Oh my god, Cass!" the boy blurted. "I never thought I'd see you again! Where have you been?"

Tony tolerated the embrace for a few seconds before pushing at the teen's arms, prompting his release. The boy backed off, still holding Tony's shoulders, as if afraid that letting go would cause him to disappear.

Steve could sympathize. It was the only reason he did not completely object. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bruce's jaw working, holding back similar protests.

"Ah… you know all the crazy shit I was spouting the last time we talked?" Tony asked lightly. The boy frowned, eyes flicking slightly to take in the men around Tony but otherwise focusing on the person he perceived as his friend. "This is going to sound even crazier."

"Whatever," the boy—Ben, most likely—snorted. "I don't even care. Come in. Your friends too, if they're safe."

Steve exchanged a bemused look with Thor. This kid was a little hyper.

"Safe might not be the right word," Tony said wryly. "They won't do anything to you."

"Hah!" Ben led them into the house. "Shoes off. My mom'll pitch a fit if you track snow in here."

For a few awkward seconds, they hovered in the front hallway, removing their shoes and winter coats. Another odd moment struck when Tony took off his hat, and Ben's eyes bulged.

"What did you do to your hair?"

Tony ran a hand over his head, ruffing up hair that was almost military short.

"Not that important right now, Ben," he said. "I need your help. Remember what I told you? About who I am?"

"You were freaking out, Cass," Ben glanced at the men, then trailed after Tony when the engineer meandered further into the house. "I thought…"

"My mental state notwithstanding, everything I said was true," Tony declared bluntly. "Meet Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, and Thor."

Ben jolted in place, doing a very good impression of someone who had just been struck upside the head. His eyes shot over to the three men who had, thus far, held their tongues. Steve forced a smile and assumed Thor and Bruce did the same. Ben's eyes went from Bruce to Steve to Thor, and then snapped back to Steve as his presence registered.

"Holy fuck. You're Captain America," the boy blurted.

He grabbed Tony's arm and jabbed his finger through the air with his free hand. Steve noted Bruce's tension, but none of them made a comment. Frequent touching seemed to be standard behavior for Ben, and Tony did not seem particularly bothered by it. In the end, that was all that really mattered.

Also, Ben appeared to be caught in a state of shock. Honestly? Steve was surprised the kid recognized him without the uniform. Most people didn't think that Captain America would walk around in a flannel shirt and jeans. Heck, he was willing to bet most people were unaware that he even could.

"That's Captain America. You brought Captain America to my house!"

"Yeah," Tony agreed lightly. "And Thor. And Dr. Banner. He's a physicist. And the Hulk."

Ben glanced at the other two, but his eyes kept sweeping back to Steve. His mouth formed the words Captain America again, though he refrained from actually saying it. Steve was starting to get a little uncomfortable with the attention. This was along the kind of awkwardness he had felt upon his first encounter with Coulson.

"So back to the night I spilled my guts to you," Tony prompted.

Kohl lined eyes darted back to Tony, widening in impossible shock.

"Cass…" he said warily.

"Tony," came the unlikely correction. The lips on that teenage girl's face quirked in Tony's typical sardonic manner. "Your friend Cassandra decided it would be a good idea to play with magic, which, for the record, sucks."

"I don't…" Ben staggered and leaned back against the counter. He shook his head roughly. "Cass, that's not even possible. Is it?"

"A month and a half ago, I would have said it wasn't," Tony said stiffly. "But then I woke up like this, and there's a teenage girl running around trying to be me. We've since come to an agreement. That's where you come in."

Ben's eyes strayed back to Steve. The kid was starting to blush, and Steve had to stifle a sigh. The last thing they needed right now was a star struck teenager.

"You're really friends with Captain America?" he asked. Obviously the kid was not getting it.

Steve did sigh then.

"Ben," he said sternly. (Ben's breath whooshed out, sounding vaguely like ohmygod!) "We need you to focus."

Unfortunately, Clint, Natasha, and Cassie chose that time to arrive. Chaos took hold the instant Clint shouted into the house.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Tony calmly tolerated Ben latching onto his hand as the boy's house was invaded by superheroes.

It took some time to get things settled. In the end, Steve was the key to gaining Ben's complete cooperation. The man had taken the boy aside and, with a considerable amount of quiet conversation and vague gesturing in their direction, explained the situation such that the teenager understood. Or, at the very least, Ben was so dumbstruck by Captain America talking to him that he agreed whether or not he actually believed any of it. He probably believed all of it because the explanation came from Steve's mouth.

Natasha was impressed.

"Using sex appeal to get what you want," she murmured to Steve as Cassie and Ben set up the necessary measures in the boy's bedroom. "You're learning, Cap."

Steve flushed and deliberately kept his gaze directed forward.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Coulson was a fan boy," Natasha reminded him. "This kid is infatuated. He's a step away from offering himself up to you."

"That is beyond inappropriate," Steve muttered. He raised his voice to address the others (and to keep Natasha from teasing him further). "How is this going to work?"

Natasha was not soon going to get over how red the back of Steve's neck was. Still, she was a professional, and she focused her attention on the pair that was moving in awkward tandem. Despite Steve's best efforts, Ben was not quite comfortable with the idea that the man currently helping him was, in fact, Cassie Morgan, his childhood friend. More than once he had attempted to get Tony's assistance only to have someone who appeared to be a middle-aged man handing him what he needed.

"Uh…" Ben flushed again at being addressed by Captain America. Natasha wished Tony were in a better mood. This sort of glee needed to be shared. "Almost done, I think. Cass?"

He looked to Tony, who just lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

"Er…" Ben swung his gaze around to the other one. "Um…"

Cassie was also uncomfortable. Natasha could see it in the consistently averted gaze and the hunched shoulders. She was, however, stepping up to the challenge as promised. This much was clear when she put the final candle in place and turned hopeful eyes to Tony.

"That should do it."

"Good."

Tony slid off the desk, from where he had been watching the pair work. Bruce hovered at his back, a wary and defensive (and admittedly somewhat nerdy) warrior.

"Last time there was fainting," Clint pointed out. He had taken up a perch on the desk beside Tony. This room was not nearly large enough for all of them, and it was obvious in the way Thor had to hover just inside the bedroom door with Steve and Natasha. None of them wanted to go near that tangled mess of sheets on Ben's bed. "Will there be fainting again? Because I can pull the car around front. No offense, Stark, but I don't like the idea of lugging your unconscious ass out in the cold."

"Car?" Steve muttered uneasily.

"Leave the quinjet where you landed it," Tony rebuked. "Cassie?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's not like I do this all the time!"

Cassie looked terrified. She was right to be. This was the moment of truth, and there were five very capable fighters surrounding her should things go south.

"Relax, kid. Let's do this thing."

Despite his cavalier words, Tony was not confident. He hid it better than Cassie had, but Natasha could see the way his eyes flicked over the makeshift altar. He would probably call it something different. Altar was what Ben had called it, and it seemed to be an apt description, despite its… less than impressive layout. A blue chenille blanket had been tossed over an ottoman, and the bowl was actually a wok. There were four pillar candles that smelled strongly of patchouli, and the 'herbs' they needed were stored in plastic sandwich bags.

It was a poor man's altar. Or one slapped together by a couple of clueless teenagers.

Tony sat opposite of Cassie, his face a mask of annoyance.

"This isn't exactly Martha Stewart, is it?" he muttered. "What do we do now?"

"I've never done this before," Cassie said, a bit shrill as the implications of possible failure suddenly struck. Tony did not look impressed.

"The other crap came out of this book, right?" he jabbed at the open book on the altar. His hand was shaking, but no one was about to call him on it. Cassie least of all, who merely nodded, eyes wide with apprehension. Tony reflected the nod grimly. "Then this will work."

Natasha doubted he was half as confident as he sounded. Most of them weren't. Thor was the only one who looked even remotely certain of what was to come. Then again, Thor was the only one present whose first instinct, when faced with the notion of magic, was not to scoff or proclaim it smoke and mirrors.

Slowly, obviously terrified of making a mistake or worse, Cassie began to read from the book. The incantation was brief and to the point. Natasha was familiar with Latin, and it seemed as though the spell was a simple request to undo what had been done. They all watched, intrigued as Cassie lit the candles with a simple, butane cigarette lighter. She grabbed the mixture of hair and herbs and sprinkled them into the bowl, then finished the incantation and closed her eyes, looking like she was sending up a silent, desperate prayer. Across the altar, Tony did the same, though he looked to be doing it more out of dubious obligation.

From the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Clint cross his fingers. She did not do anything so outwardly obvious, but she understood the sentiments.

She hoped this worked.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened. Natasha had not known what to expect—wind, flashing lights. Maybe a few convulsions. This still grandstand was not what she had pictured.

Steve sucked in a quiet breath, only audible because it was only inches above Natasha's ear.

Bruce watched with shuttered eyes, expression more impenetrable than Fort Knox.

Someone let out a brief, shaky sigh—it was Stark. At least, it came from Stark's body. Hazel eyes opened, staring steadily across the altar into green eyes set in a disoriented expression.

Clint, unsurprisingly, was the first to speak.

"Stark?"

The man's head turned, fixing his cool gaze on the archer. Natasha could feel the tension level drop to almost nothing.

It had worked.

The process had been very visually unimpressive, but it had brought about the desired results. Plus, there was the added bonus that no one had lost consciousness this time around.

Then Stark was scrambling to his feet, backpedalling and off balance as he lurched up to his full height for the first time in over a month. Eyes already flooding, Cassie cringed back, watching the man wheel around and stagger out of the room. Thor was in his way, but Tony merely shoved him aside (to which Thor clearly allowed him passage at that gesture) and disappeared down the hallway.

"Tony—!" Natasha stopped Steve from chasing after the man with a hand on his arm.

"Not a good time, Cap," she said softly. Chasing after a man in that state would be challenging at best. Sending Rogers after Stark in that state was like sending a flame thrower toward a box of TNT.

"Banner," Clint muttered.

"I got him," Bruce said, and then he, too, was gone.

Natasha looked over at Cassie. The girl had not moved from where Tony sat only moments ago. Her face was already streaked with tears, and Ben was hovering over her, looking for the world like he felt completely useless.

Beside Natasha, Steve grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. Clint looked out the window, and Thor frowned but made no move forward. No one wanted to deal with this. As per usual, it would be left to the most competent one in the group. That is to say, Natasha would take care of it herself. That decided, she stifled an impatient sigh and walked over to crouch beside the distraught teenager.

Bruce found Tony on the main level of the house. He was in the front hallway, squatting low, digging through the piles of jackets. Bruce was not sure what the man was looking for, but from the frustration on his face, he was not finding it.

"Tony—"

Tony startled visibly but quickly resumed his search. He did spare half a second to flash Bruce a tight smile. There was no point in asking for any explanations when faced with that closed off expression. So Bruce asked a different question altogether.

"Can I help?"

A low huff was the initial response before Tony finally rocked back on his heels, his hands digging impatiently into his hair. His feet had to be getting cold and uncomfortable in the puddles of the melted snow and slush from discarded shoes. Bruce suspected that was the reason Tony was crouching rather than kneeling or sitting.

"I'm out of shape," was the first thing Tony said to him. Bruce could not help but smirk at the complaint. "What the hell were you guys thinking, letting her be so sedentary? I feel like I ran a marathon, and all I did was go down a flight of stairs."

"You can join me and Natasha in our yoga sessions," Bruce told him. "And I'm sure Steve will be happy to help you build up your strength again."

Tony shot him a look so full of disdain that Bruce could not keep from laughing. He knew the other man did not appreciate it, but it was difficult to contain himself when all he had wanted for the past five weeks was for this man to glare at him just like that.

"What are you looking for?" Bruce asked rather than apologize for doing something for which he was not remotely sorry. It earned him an exasperated sigh.

"The cuffs," Tony explained. It only took Bruce a second to realize he was speaking of the Mark VII beacons. "Natasha said she brought them, but I wouldn't put them on the girl, and I couldn't risk having them on me when she was—I had to wait, but now I need them. I can't—Bruce, I can't—"

He understood. It made perfect sense, really. Of course Tony Stark felt safest when he was in his armor. It was bulletproof, armed to the teeth, and certainly capable of withstanding anything anyone in this little town could throw at him. Considering what Tony had gone through here, it only made sense that he needed the peace of mind.

"I'm sure they're here."

Bruce shoved the jackets aside until he reached the sleek black jacket Natasha had been wearing earlier. It took only seconds for him to root out the cuffs. Tony grabbed for them, but Bruce simply caught the reaching hand and slid the bracelet into place. There was no complaint when he did the same for Tony's other arm.

They were close to the same size. Tony was, perhaps, a bit taller, had a bit less bulk to him, but it was close. There certainly was not the size discrepancy that had been present during his recent stay in SHIELD medical. Bruce would not be able to completely surround the man as he had done before, but he liked to think he provided some measure of comfort when he yanked Tony to his feet and into a rough embrace. Tony gave no indication that he was at all displeased with the position. He pressed his face into Bruce's shoulder, dug hard fingers into his back, and shuddered impressively.

To say that Bruce was happy to have Tony back to normal was more than a mild understatement. Even so, he could not imagine the disorientation Tony must be feeling. After weeks of being trapped in a sickly, female teenage body, he was abruptly thrust back into his own body, which was not even as he had left it. Bruce expected the man was glad, but it had to be overwhelming.

It was no wonder Tony had fled. He was not one to have his breakdowns in front of people, no matter how familiar. Bruce was just grateful Tony was willing to accept any comfort he had to offer.

There was something ugly about the situation that Clint did not like. It was not so much the horrors that Tony had suffered, of which he was not denying they happened, or the fact that both of their resident super geniuses had left the rest of them to deal with two teenage drama queens. Clint was not even focusing on that lost expression that had crossed Stark's face when he had reeled out of the room like a drunken sailor.

What really bothered Clint was, in fact, the scene before them. The girl (who Clint was having a hard time disassociating with Tony now) was sobbing hysterically. Ben was hovering awkwardly, looking like a powered down gay satellite. Natasha was a little more useful, but Cassie seemed to want to have nothing to do with the other woman. The girl had huddled in on herself, clearly convinced that the world had forsaken her.

Clint hated that he actually felt sorry for the brat. Her actions had been selfish and had ended horribly for one of their own, and yet he was empathizing with her. Shitty childhoods were practically par for the course when it came to being an Avenger (well, Thor and Steve seemed to have grown up semi-happily, but they were clearly exceptions), so Clint did get it.

He really wished he could just go back to hating the bitch.

Fortunately for his sense of inner peace, Tony and Bruce did not remain absent for long. Just when Clint was thinking to go after the pair and screw the consequences, Bruce reappeared at the doorway. Since where one was, the other was sure to follow, Clint was not surprised to see Tony right behind him.

The strangest thing about this mess (in Clint's not-so-humble opinion) was how Tony was handling everything. If it had been him, Clint would have been long gone. Probably. Maybe. All right, he was not sure, since it was not him, and he really had no basis for comparison in this particular instance. The point was, from what he knew of Stark, the man had little time for anyone who wallowed in self-pity. Clint suspected this to be a throwback to Tony's own days of self-indulgence.

Instead of throwing Cassie to the wolves, Tony had been remarkably gentle about everything. Even now, when he could run and never look back, he strode across the small, messy bedroom (seriously, Clint's room was not this bad) and stood over Cassie, looking down at her with his typical, inscrutable air.

Cassie did not magically stop crying. She seemed to be barely aware that Tony was in front of her. Natasha did, however, stop attempting to calm the girl. Nodding at Stark, Natasha quietly retreated, leaving Cassie crouched alone. (Ben was there, but the kid was worse than Steve when it came to dealing with women's tears, so Clint did not count his presence.)

"Time to go, kid," Tony said.

The girl's shoulders heaved, and the waterworks renewed themselves. Clint had not realized a person could produce that many tears.

Tony was patient, but only to a point. He glanced over at Bruce, who apparently had nothing to offer other than a shrug, before turning back to the girl. Eyes lifting heavenward, Tony sighed out any impatience that remained and shoved his hand out into Cassie's line of vision.

"Cassie," Tony said sternly. "It's time to go."

"I—I…" Asking a girl who was crying that hard to speak clearly was too much. She made a valiant effort and was at least partially coherent. "I can't! Please!"

Clint winced. The girl actually thought they were going to dump her back at her own home.

"Stop being an idiot, kid!" Tony barked. There was the ruthless businessman Clint knew had been hiding away these past few days. He hid a smirk and watched as Tony took control in the only way he ever seemed capable of doing. "We had a deal. Your help for my protection. Now come on, before Ben's parents get home and make this shit way more complicated than it needs to be."

Cassie looked up, shocked out of her hysteria. The tears had not quite stopped, but at least she seemed lucid. Tony looked at her expectantly.

She reached up and grasped his hand. Tony raised an eyebrow, then hauled the girl to her feet.

Clint had seen people form attachments in the past. He had seen fanatical love, bitter hatred, and Stockholm Syndrome at its worst. This was an interesting one, though, because he never would have expected this kind of blatant devotion to a man who was generally an ass to everyone he met.

The girl had grown up in an abusive home, so Clint supposed he should not be so surprised. Tony snapped and snarled at Cassie, but he also was doing everything he could to help her. If she was lucky, Cassie was responding to the kindness and not the prickly edges.

"Where are you going?" Ben protested a bit when they filed out of the room, Cassie tucked close to Tony's side.

"Manhattan."

"New York?"

The kid was going to be a problem. Clint caught his arm, holding him back when he attempted to push into their midst as they redressed for the outside.

"Someone's been paying attention in geography," Clint muttered.

"You can't do that! This is kidnapping!"

"We mean your friend no harm," Thor said. His offering was met with an offended glare. Ben clearly did not believe the god of thunder.

"Technically, she's a runaway," Tony looked at the boy as he shrugged into the puffy down jacket they had put on Cassie earlier. Where it had seemed right when Cassie was in that body, on Stark it seemed cheap. He should have been wearing some designer wool coat. To make it even more ridiculous, he yanked a knit cap over his too-long, moppish hair. "Check your Facebook. We'll get you two in contact with each other as soon as we can. Anyway, you helped me run away when you thought I was her, so what's your problem?"

His problem was that now he could actually see a group of grown men and women walking off with his friend. Clint chose not to voice this. Stark was edgy as it was.

Ben seemed to realize the same thing. He looked at Cassie, beseeching her to say something. She looked at him, and, incredibly, managed a tremulous smile.

"Thanks, Ben," she whispered.

Ben was on the girl in an instant. They stepped back and let the two kids have their cuddle moment. It was very teen romance, except there was no way Ben was not gay. The red that appeared on Steve's ears whenever Ben addressed him was proof enough of that.

"Text me," Ben urged.

The pair would have lingered, but Tony was already pulling the door open. Like a dog called to heel, Cassie jumped away from Ben and, flashing her friend a weak smile, hurried after the billionaire.

"Don't you dare leave your hair that short!" Ben called out after them.

Cassie glanced over her shoulder at him, even as she slid her hand into the one hanging lax at Tony's side. Clint was shocked that Tony did not instantly pull away. The man had adopted a stoic bearing, though. Experience told Clint it would take nothing short of the death of someone Tony loved to break that mask right then. For the moment, he let Cassie hang off his arm as he led them back toward the fields where they had parked the quinjet.

Clint could not speak for anyone else, but he was looking forward to getting home.

Notes: This entire story, I feel I have done Thor a tremendous disservice. Next chapter, though, he has a section all of his own. Keep your fingers crossed that I don't royally muck it up.