Clint came by shortly after Steve left. He looked distraught, like he'd been crying.

Wanda took immediate notice, "It was not your fault," she informed him, looking up from Pietro.

"I know," was all he had to say. Clint cleared his throat, looking at me, "Steve said you needed a ride?"

Bucky stood up, "To Maine," he said.

Wanda bit her lip, "We'll be back Wanda, he'll be okay," I told her, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

She nodded her head with watery eyes, Bucky took that as his cue to pick up Pietro's body.

.

.

.

It was dark out when Clint dropped us off in Maine, a few miles away from a safehouse Bucky had.

I trailed behind Bucky as he carried Pietro.

I was exhausted, I'm sure Bucky was too.

It took nearly an hour before the cabin came into view.

It was small, but that was okay.

Bucky forced the door open with his shoulder, balancing Pietro on the other.

It was dusty inside; it was pretty bare too. There wasn't any furniture

"There should be blankets in that trunk," Bucky informed.

I made my way over to it, the trunk was stuffed full of blankets. I grabbed the first one and laid it out on the floor.

Bucky, somewhat gently, put Pietro on the blanket. I noticed that he had started to breathe again.

"Stay here, I'm going to check the perimeter," Bucky informed.

That was all the warning I got before I heard his bones breaking and reshaping. It wasn't long before an Alaskan Malamute took his place.

He rubbed his head on my arm before running out the door.

.

.

.

It couldn't have been thirty minutes later when Pietro sat up with a loud gasp.

"Easy Pietro," I soothed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

His attention snapped towards me, "Who are you?" he demanded, pushing himself back until his back was against the wall.

"Pietro! It's okay! My name is Sam, I'm a friend," I tried to comfort him.

That didn't settle well with him.

"Pietro, you need to calm down, you're not fully recovered yet. What's the last thing you remember?" I asked.

"I..." He looked down at the floor, a few emotions flashed over his face before his eyes snapped to mine. "Where is Wanda?" he demanded.

He started to try to get to his feet, he was off-balanced. "Where... is... she," he struggled with each word as he eventually managed to get his feet. He was leaning heavily against the wall.

"She's safe, she's with the Avengers," I told him.

"I don't believe you!" he yelled at me. That was before the screaming started.

I could hear his bones breaking and reforming into his new form.

"Shit," was all I could say. I couldn't help him.

"Just breathe Pietro," I tried to coach. The first transformation was always the most painful.

It took him ten minutes to complete it. After those ten minutes, there was an exhausted border collie panting on the floor.