Annette looked out through the window, as the vehicle of Scamp and Angels' new owners drove away. "Goodbye Scamp."

Kilian joined her there after some time had passed.


He stared at her with his keen eyes.

Kilian knew that Annette shouldn't be here. He looked away from her. Ever since they were first caught, he had been mentally kicking himself for allowing this to happen. All he wanted was to cheer Annette up, crying wasn't something she often did. True, he didn't know that Will and Bill, his two so-called 'best friends' would kidnap the two of them and bring them to a crazy cult. His wounds, from when Harley ravaged him still stung slightly. A shiver rolled up his spine as he thought of how easily the terrifying dog could kill him, if he wanted to. Or, more like, if Azriel wanted him to.

Annette's stomach growled suddenly and the guilt planted itself even deeper in his subconscious. "Her father would kill me." The thought sent another shiver up his spine. He figured that he never set the best first impression. He'd heard tales from his mother of the legendary Tramp, but never really admired any of the stories. The Tramp he saw that day didn't look particularly legendary. He looked more like a tired, old dog. Truthfully, he wasn't scared of the dog himself, he was scared of the authority the dog held. He liked Annette's company, wanted to see her all the time. The very idea of being forbidden scared him.

He looked back to her, somehow she looked even worse. Fur that had once been silky and smooth, was now awkwardly clumped together, in a strange looking mixture of mud. Her neck was scarred from Bill's overly aggressive handling of her. The bleeding there had stopped, but it would be rough for a long time. Worst of all she was clearly starving. It wasn't pleasant, but he was used to it. She never once had to worry about food in her life, yet here she was now, thanks to him. Thanks to him she was dirty, miserable, hurting and starving like no dog ever should.

Kilian wanted to say sorry. A thousand times over. He wanted to say sorry more sincerely than his mother had ever taught him. Wanted to say sorry, admit what a failure he was and then say sorry again, but he stopped himself.

As much as it bothered him, she wouldn't have any of his apologies. She wouldn't want him to chastise himself so harshly. She knew that this wasn't his fault, so why didn't, why couldn't he realize the same.

"I won't say sorry, mam." He thought, while looking at her shivering form. "But, I'll get us out of here, that's a promise." He scooted closer. "That's a promise Annette."