Ethan's POV

I found him. He was there—right in front of me. So close. One hundred percent done. Nails clawing the concrete pavement beneath me, I gave that human hell. "Come. On. E-than," Bre huffed between labored breaths as she pulled on my neck to drag me forward. "We're. Going. Home. Now." I crouched down low and growled, baring my canine teeth as she made a move to pick me up. She slapped a hand on the side of her forehead with an exasperated sigh in defeat. "What do you want?" I knew darn well what—or 'who', rather—I wanted. But how to put it delicately…

I want my "Arf!"-ing friend, you "Arf!"-ing "Bark!" He was "Arf!"-ing right there! What is your "Arf!"-ing problem?! You don't "Arf!"-ing know "Woof!" do you? I'm a "Arf!"-ing vampire for "Arf!"'s sake! All you care about is your big magic show; well, "Arf!" that "Woof!" I've got a mission here, and I'm not about to just sit on my "Ruff!" and do whatever "Arf!"ing "Woof!" you want!

Bre simply put a finger to her lips and stared back at my glaring eyes. A minute later, she came to a conclusion. "Do you…need some water?" I followed my eyeroll and fell over on my side, two hundred percent done. She gladly took this moment to pick me up in her arms and carry back to the trailer that she called home. I actually liked her life, though I would never trade mine for hers. She had the road-life, traveling from place to place wherever the wind took her. She made money doing what she loved—entertaining people. And she was good at it. Even with my keen, careful eyes, there were times I was impressed. I couldn't find Carly that night, but I planned to tell her about Patches.

Despite my absolute rage from being torn from him so suddenly, at least I could rest assured that he was here and that he was safe. Angel and Rose didn't look like ideal parents to me, but it was evident that they did care about him. As for Patches, he seemed happy enough to be with them, or at least much better off than when he still lived in the castle after I "died". I often wondered how he would react when he finds out the truth: Surprised? Betrayed? Bewildered? Relieved? Would he think he went crazy and started hallucinating? I could guess and guess, but I hadn't a clue. What I did know, however, was that we were going to be together very soon. I would love him, he would love me, and we'd see the world together—no restrictions, no loss, and certainly no more pain.

Angel's POV

When we returned to the quaint town, it was that time of day when all the stores began to close for the night: the welcome signs began to flip and the doors began to lock. Patches was stroking the dog's head the whole time it walked beside him. "Don't worry," he murmured softly. "You'll get a great new family to love soon." I suddenly felt a little guilty about taking the dog to a pet shelter. With Patches, it was a promise, but with reality, that promise was only a possibility. My eyes locked into a stare as I looked the dog over. It was older, its puppy years far behind it. Its fur wasn't clean in the least and the top of its head was oily from many petting hands. Yes, adoption was a slim possibility indeed. No human family would take in a dog that had only a few years left to go; humans invest in young pups who would be companions with one family for its whole life. A brand new adventure is a far more appealing attraction than someone else's saved game.

"Rose?" I asked, turning to her. "Do you think it would be a good idea if you took Patches back to our room while I drop the dog off?" She pulled in her eyebrows and shook her head, throwing me a quizzical look.

"No. I see nothing wrong with all of us going. He can say goodbye when we get there." I let her opinion win this time, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that my idea was safer.

"Fine," I sighed, not saying another word about it until we reached the tall, windowless grey cube that served as the animal shelter. The building itself was as wide as it was tall and covered nearly three thousand square feet. A narrow door near the corner of the cube read "Welcome, Come Inside". Below it announced another sign smaller than the first: "Caution: Animals are plausible to bite."

"Well, this is the place," I said, rolling back my shoulders and opening the door. "Let's go in." I held it wide open, but only Rose passed me. Patches and the old dog stayed twenty feet away, not daring to come any closer.

"A-Angel?" Patches started, his eyes rapidly scaling the grey walls. "I-I don't like this place." I whipped my head in the opposite direction, sending Rose a deep "I knew this was a bad idea" scowl. She blinked twice in response and casually turned away to avoid my glare. She walked further into the building and stopped by the front desk. I let out a forced exhale and returned to Patches.

"It's not for you," I explained. "It's for the dog."

"But he doesn't like it either," he quickly protested, holding the dog's head protectively against his side. I glanced at the dog and saw that he was right: its ears were laid back and its tail hung limply between its legs.

"He'll be just fine," I tried to convince him with my optimism. Surely the inside held a better impression than the outside. "He'll have food, water, and shelter until someone comes to adopt him."

"But no love," he mumbled in a low tone, casting his eyes to the ground. I crouched down to his level and smoothed back his hair.

"Patches, what else can we do? We're always traveling and I know from experience that packing light makes room for more adventures. We can't keep a dog right now." He didn't answer, which I took to mean that he understood my point. I heard Rose approach from behind me.

"The lady seems nice enough," Rose said with a small smile. "It's a non-killing animal shelter—just what you wanted. She's fixing a place up for it right now." She placed a hand on Patches' shoulder. "Say goodbye." The boy slowly nodded and got on his knees to pull the dog into a gentle hug.

"G-Goodbye," he hoarsely whispered into the dog's ear. The dog looked at him with its old eyes and licked his cheek. Patches touched the moist spot and wrapped his arms tighter around the dog's body, pressing his face into its neck. I grimaced in disgust and felt that I should pull him away from the dirty dog, but something held me back. Fascination? Confusion? I couldn't understand why he had a growing attachment to the animal; he just met it today and was acting like he had raised it himself.

"Let's get him inside, Patch. The night's not getting any younger." I stepped closer and helped him stand up, prying his arms off the dog in the process. He resisted at first, clinging tighter to the fur, but eventually gave up and accepted what was going to happen. I took him by the hand and headed for the door. Trudging one step after another, he followed without a word. My assumption was correct: the place did look much more homely than the outside suggested. The walls were a light yellow and lined with framed photographs of some of the dogs and cats. The woman at the front desk appeared with a tired, yet sincere smile. She nodded at me, then at Patches, and finally rested her eyes on the old dog behind him.

"Hi there," she said, snapping on a pair of latex gloves that she must have kept in her desk. "You're all set to go," she continued, gesturing to a filled-out form on a clipboard that bore Rose's handwriting. "I can take it from here." She made her way over to us with a chain leash coiled in her hand. The dog saw it and growled deeply, crouching low and baring its teeth. I instinctively pulled Patches away and stepped in front. He sidestepped me in response, trying to see. The woman took no heed of the dog's warning and bolted to its side, wrapping an arm around its neck with her hand clamped on its muzzle. She took one look under the dog and produced a loaded needle, which she stuck behind its shoulder. The dog's growl dissolved to a helpless whimper before collapsing unconscious on the floor. I stared in shock as my brain registered what just happened.

"What was that for?" I wanted to know.

"There's a likely chance he has mange," she coolly explained, picking up the dog in her arms and setting it inside a crate placed behind her desk area. "If you can't produce a medical record, I have to assume that he needs his vaccines." She double-locked the crate door and peeled off her gloves. "And of course, the dog must be anesthetized for the...you know." I nodded and turned to Patches. He was as stiff as a board and at the same time looked like he was going to fall over and faint or vomit.

"Right," I said to break the silence. "Like she said, we're done here. Let's go, Patches." I squeezed his hand, but he didn't give me any indication that he was with me. "We're going back to the hotel now." When he still didn't move, I touched the center of his back and gave him a prompting push forward. His head snapped up with an immediate reaction.

"I'm going! I'm going!" he suddenly cried, not exactly meeting my eyes. In a fluid movement, he yanked his hand out of mine and took off running through the door of the building as fast as he could. Rose and I shared a bothered look before dashing after him.

Once we were outside, he was out of sight, but not far away. I followed his scent half a block to a simulation airplane for little kids—one of those rocking machines that ran on quarters. Somehow, he had packed himself inside, curled into a tight ball against the child-sized seats. I knew I should've been angry at him for running off like that, but I just couldn't do it. "I want to go, Angel," he told me. "I want to go to your home in Russia now."

"Okay," I sighed, stroking his hair. "We'll go to Russia tomorrow after the show." He blinked at me and sat up.

"What show?"

"The variety show, silly. Rose already bought tickets from the girl we met at the park. Remember her little white puppy?" He gave the affirmative and something that could have been an attempt to smile. "Alright. Let's return to the room. Happy thoughts, okay?" I lifted him out of the airplane and planted him back on earth.

"Okay," he repeated as we joined Rose at the sidewalk. "Happy thoughts."

Carly's POV

I groaned in my hand, waiting for Bre to come back from the bathroom and shut Ethan up. "I'm telling you, he was right there."

"And for the eighteenth time, I believe you," I growled back behind my dance magazine, thoroughly annoyed. Even in his vampire form, he was still leashed to one of Bre's bed posts. I think she knew that he wasn't in the least bit interested in her life.

"I'm leaving the first chance I get tomorrow," he declared with determined eyes. "Once I 'disappear', I'm gone for good."

"Good. Then maybe you'll leave me alone." He grinned.

"I'm looking forward to it." I looked at him and laughed before returning to my magazine. "What's funny?"

"You," I replied, standing up and walking over to him. He was wearing only underwear and remained on all fours. "You're so adorable with your little leather collar on." I teasingly petted his head. "Just like a real puppy."

"I have to be able to change in a split second," he explained. "Believe me, I am not enjoying this."

"Well, I am," I chuckled, stepping just out of reach before he made a move to snap at me. "It's not every day I see a vampire masquerading as a dog." The door handle turned, which was Ethan's cue to pop back into his puppy self. Bre let herself in and stared between the two of us, her red hair glimmering in the sunlight.

"Did I just hear 'a vampire masquerading as a dog'?"