Bjørn heaves a sigh and reaches for the handle on the shower door, effortlessly pulling it open. Fingers of steam curl out from the hot water, wrapping around the hunter's body and spreading through the dark room. The scalding water pelts Bo's back as he steps in and closes the door, allowing the droplets to strike the tender flesh and leave the skin stinging and red in their wake. Eyelids slide shut as he runs a hand through his wet hair, pondering his shortcomings and failures over the long years. Leaning to the side, the hunter props his head against the side wall and exhales a slow breath. As he pulls in a deep breath, Bjørn allows the memories that he has tried to repress since the ladies came to stay with him, burst to life in the darkness underneath his lids, the bright, vivid details blinding him for a moment.

He is back home, the farmhouse he had grown up in stands whole and untouched by time. His father tills the earth and he can smell his mother's cooking as she works on a hearty lunch for the two men. "Time to eat!" His father calls to the younger Bo, motioning him to the barn where he will deposit his tools before heading into the house. The hunter remembers the eager anticipation that filled him as the smells of food caused his mouth to flood with drool on the walk to the barn. Lukas, his father, had already deposited his items in the barn and had hurried into the house, leaving Bjørn alone under the bright afternoon sun with a smile on his lips. Life was sweet. The cry of an injured animal reached his ears and Bjørn turned worried eyes to the forest that surrounded the farm...

Hazel eyes flash open and Bjørn strikes out, grabbing the shampoo bottle from its resting place and straightening himself up as he squeezes a dollop of the cedar wood scented shampoo into his palm. Returning the bottle back to where he got it from, Bo furiously works the stuff into his hair as he remembers the days following his transformation.

Ingrid had taken him as her pupil, trying to help the young Bjørn navigate his new-found life and the perils that came with it. He remembers the anger that had built up inside of him as she spoke of him leaving the area by the farm to keep his family safe and how he had vehemently refused it. Through all the training, the young Bo had refused to leave his family and the farm he had grown up on, instead choosing to live like a wraith in the woods, watching quietly as the days passed. He watched as lines of worry and sadness creased his parents face, he saw the tears his mother, Annkia shed for her 'dead' son. Life slowly started to drag him away from his parents, hunts taking him further and further away until the day he no longer returned to those woods. The memories too painful and raw for Bo. He had been in London when he received word of an attack on his family farm, his father was killed...

Bjørn slams his eyes shut and shoves his head under the waterfall of the showerhead and allows the shampoo to be washed from his hair. Stepping back, he grabs the washcloth and bar of soap, working a lathe up before returning the soap back to where he pulled it from. Roughly, Bo begins scrubbing himself clean, starting with his face. As he swipes the cloth across his cheeks, he remembers the tears that spilled down his face the day he had returned home.

He had stood in the doorway of the house, hazel eyes fliting from object to object recalling the memories that each piece held. Annika had screamed when she saw him, crumpling to her knees as she buried her wrinkled face in her arthritic hands. She sobbed, unconsolably, as Bjørn rushed over and fell to his knees in front of her. Strong arms had pulled her close as he whispered to her, assuring her he was real and had not died. Time passed, how much, the hunter did not know, all he knew was the woman in his arms and deep ache that filled his chest. His father had been seventy-five when a group of weres appeared on his doorstep. They tried to force him to tell them where Bo was but Lukas did not know he was alive and had no information to give. His mother told the broken-hearted hunter the story in between sobs. She remembered the smirk their leader had given Lukas, the cold emptiness in his eyes where a soul should have rested. Annika had watched as the leader struggled her husband to death, her screams only making the group smile and sneer more.

The washcloth is thrown to the side as Bjørn steps back under the cascading water, letting it wash away the soap and memories. Ingrid had tried to tell him that his enemies would find his weakness and exploit it... and they did. Once clean, Bo shuts the shower water off and cracks the glass door open, hearing someone's rather loud attempts to relock his bedroom door. He rolls his eyes and grabs the tower that hangs nearby, stepping out and toweling off before walking into his bedroom. Checking to make sure that the door is indeed locked, Bjørn moves over to a chest of drawers and pulls out a mismatched set of pajamas. After he is clothed, the hunter quickly strips the sheets from his bed and grabs a new set from the closet, swiftly making the bed. Next, he lays out another pair of pajamas, a plain green shirt and baggy sweatpants, on the bed.

Gathering the dirty sheets, Bo dumps them in the laundry hamper he has in the room, moving into the bathroom to gather his discarded clothes and deposited them in the hamper as well. He flicks the fan on in the bathroom and grabs his broadsword and an extra pillow and blanket from the closet. Moving to the door, Bjørn pauses a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 'Don't get attached' flies through his mind as he shoves the memories back down, locking them away. The still, calm demeanor that he normally wears is back as he opens his eyes and unlocks the bedroom door, moving down to join the others. When bare feet hit the ground floor, Bjørn turns his eyes to the table, noting Mayuza's absence and giving them all a small nod. Before he joins them, Bo walks over to the couch in the living room and deposits the items in his arms. The beep of his microwave has the hunter turning around and quirking an eyebrow in surprise as Ren retrieves a warmed-up bowl of spaghetti from the little machine.

He moves to the table, taking a seat and looking at everyone before the bowl appears in front of him. Eyes round as he inhales the intoxicating aroma. Picking up the fork, Bjørn stabs it into the middle of the noodles and twirls, bring a huge clump of sauce and noodles to his mouth. As the food hits his tongue, Bo melts much like Raven did and he offers Ren a warm smile as he continues to eat and listen to the conversation around the table.