A/N: The story's getting really juicy, and is close to coming to an end. I didn't think it would end up being this long, but I guess it was necessary for it to become so much more than I imagined. But I'm happy with the way things have turned out. Let's get into this.

The Dalmatian household was a far cry from its former off-the-walls carefree habitat, now a lethargic morose homestead of sleepy-eyed pups, whose eyes were red from crying. There was no longer the chaos of pups running around the house in an intense game of tag, no longer the cacophony of a thousand things happening at once. Only the occasional yelp or bark could be heard from within the corridors of the quiet home.

Dylan listlessly swept the floor with a droopy-eared sad frown. The crisp swishes of the broom against the tile echoing at a steady rhythm. Dylan tried to keep his head up and hold onto hope that Dawkins would soon come home, but every day that passed and Dawkins remained absent, it felt more and more like a cope than an actual possibility. For all he knew, that thieving runt could be keeping Dawkins deliberately out of the public eye, only allowing him outside if it was the backyard. If that was the case, then Dylan wondered why he even bothered convincing himself that this whole nightmare would end.

He heard two hyper pairs of footfalls running down the hall towards him. He looked up tiredly and saw that the sound had come from DeeDee and Dizzy, the twins. They both latched onto Dylan out of fearful urgency, and DeeDee was the first to speak. "Dylan? Is Dawkins gonna be away forever?" DeeDee looked up at Dylan with big teary eyes. Dog, how Dylan hated that look.

Dizzy was next to speak. "Do you think the humans are being mean to Dawkins?"

The twins both stared up at Dylan expectantly, waiting for a response, as if Dylan's words had the magic to wash all of this away. Dylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and answered in his best reassuring tone he could feign, "Dawkins is away on vacation. . . It's gonna take some time before he can come back home, is all. I'm sure Dawkins is having a blast with the humans. He'll be back eventually, so don't fret."

Dizzy and DeeDee both gazed at him with measured looks, and for a second, Dylan thought they were unconvinced by his answer. But his worry was then dismissed when Dizzy and DeeDee grinned jovially. "Hope he sends postcards!" The twins said in unison cheerfully.

Dizzy then tagged DeeDee. "Tag! You're it!" He declared.

DeeDee gasped and stared at him in shock. "How dare you?"

"Gotta go, bye!" Dizzy said hastily. He then dashed off down the hall.

DeeDee took off after Dizzy and shouted after him, "you're gonna wish you hadn't now!"

Dylan sighed and watched those two young pups in envy. The wondrous resilience of early youth. Though Dylan enjoyed the freedom and arm of authority that came with being one of the home's elders, he couldn't help but wish he were little again — just to have a slice of that same ignorant bliss those twins frolicked in. They didn't know how fortunate they were, not knowing what happened in the engine room of the happenings around them. Dylan begrudgingly returned to his menial work of sweeping the floors, and that's when he spotted Dolly huddled up in a lone corner of the living room.

Curiosity got the best of Dylan, and he rested his broom against the wall to walk into the living room and see what was up. Dylan approached Dolly, who was unaware of his presence and slumped over looking at something. He came closer, not making a sound, until he was behind her looking over her shoulder. "Dolly? Feelin' okay, sis?" Dylan spoke in a soft voice.

Dolly jumped a little and yelped startled, then quickly glanced behind her at Dylan with a flustered expression. "Don't sneak up on dogs like that! You could've given me a heart attack, y'know that?" Dolly chided, still reeling.

Dylan scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly, and chuckled bashfully. "Uh, didn't mean to scare ya' there. I just wanted to check up on you, make sure you're okay," replied Dylan.

Dolly's expression softened and she returned her attention back to the small object she was holding. Dylan got a closer look and his brows raised when he saw what the object was, a framed picture of Dawkins caught in broad daylight eating a biscuit out of the biscuit jar — crumbs covering his face. That explained how the biscuit jar was almost always three biscuits short. Dolly then spoke in a tone of longing, "I remember when I snapped that photo of him to get him into hot water. But now. . . it's all I have left of him. I used to call him an egghead all the time, but I don't even remember the last time I've told him 'I love you'."

Dylan looked at Dolly with understanding and placed a paw on her shoulder. "I'm sure he knows you love him full and well. Knowing, Dawkins. . . he could never hold a grudge. He misses you too, without a doubt in the world."

Dolly sighed sadly. "I know, I know. . . Though, it would be better if he'd heard it coming from me. Rather than, y'know. . . being left guessing."

Dylan wrapped his arms around Dolly to console her and embraced her. Dolly was taken aback by this, but let Dylan's warm comforting arms hug the pain away. "We'll get Dawkins back, even if we have to travel to the ends of the Earth to find him. And when that day comes. . . you can read what's on your heart to him," said Dylan in a heartfelt tone.

That's when a smile creased Dolly's lips and she nodded, then replied with a shadow of hope in her voice, "it'll be the first thing I do."

A hard pounding came at the front door, reverberating throughout the house not wanting its presence to be mistaken. It was plenty to pull Dylan and Dolly out of their moment and snap them back to reality. They both glanced outwardly towards the hall, then exchanged glances. The urgent pounding came again, demanding attention.

Dylan rushed out of the living room. "Coming!"

Dolly followed behind, wanting to see what all the commotion was about. Dylan got to the front door, pressed his paw to the scanner, and opened it. At the door was the disciplined authority figure, Pearl, who was now actually a pleasant surprise for Dylan. Pearl then spoke in her characteristic stern tone of voice, "evening to you two, I just wanted to give an update on the current missing canine's investigation. We currently have a prime suspect in the case, but. . . " Much to Pearl's chagrin, she knew she had to tell about what went down with the suspect. She appeared hesitant for a moment, then got on with it. "Our suspect managed to evade capture during a chase."

Dylan's ears drooped in disappointment, and he looked to the ground crestfallen. Not the news he was betting on. Dolly, who was now behind him listening in, did the same. In unison, they uttered a disappointed, "oh. . . "

Pearl's voice then jumped in pitch and she continued, "however, I've managed to get a license plate number from the suspect's vehicle. This allowed us to get an address to where they live, and a possible lead on where Dawkins is being held!"

Dylan and Dolly perked up at the sound of that. Dolly did a small backflip and cheered. "Bow-wow-wow! That's amazing, Pearl! How long's it gonna be before they can track this punk down?"

Pearl creased her brow and didn't respond, appearing apprehensive about answering. "I don't like that look. . . Tell me there isn't a catch," asked Dylan now worried.

Pearl closed her eyes and sighed deeply. " 'fraid so, younglings. Problem is, we can only search the perp's house if we have a search warrant. And our human officers are a bit, to put it bluntly. . . incompetent. It could take weeks before they finally get around to getting a warrant, unfortunately," explained Pearl forlornly.

"Weeks? That's crazy!" Dolly protested.

The two sibling's faces fell and they looked at Pearl in disbelief at the new setback. "I swear, there's always a human involved! Every single time," lamented Dylan.

Dolly then lifted a paw and made a suggestion. "Can't you just, I dunno, give us the address, so we can go get Dawkins back ourselves?"

Pearl arched a brow. "Well, that would be breaking a lot of policy and protocol. . . " She hazarded.

"Pearl, please! You said it yourself, the human crew is 'incompetent'. It's not like they'll be smart enough to know who spilled the location on where the suspect is," begged Dylan in desperation.

Pearl took what Dylan had said into consideration, and knowing that Dylan had a point, she then responded, "alright. . . do you have a notepad?"

Dylan grinned ear-to-ear, and instantly, materialized a notepad and pencil out of nowhere. He held them both with eagerness. "Yep! Always carry one in case of emergencies," he said with exuberance.

Pearl was impressed at how Dylan was seemingly able to spawn necessities out on a whim, despite having no pockets. She really had to ask Dylan how he did that sometime in the near future. Pearl then prompted, "keep your ears open because here's the address. . . "

Five days had rolled through the week and every single one was as rough as the other, there was no give. Dawkins really had to work to get through those days. He had been burned so many times, each microwaving varying in degree depending on the severity of the offense. One offense being that he had winkled in the house out of fear after running from Barry who decided it would be "hi-larious" to put on a Michael Meyers mask and chase him around. For that, Rita reprimanded Barry for scaring the puppy out of its wits. Barry had apologized, but Dawkins knew it was all just a 'please don't ground me' bribe — because when he finally got the guts to go into the bedroom for the night, Barry was already there waiting for him. Without a word, Barry turned the collar remote's dial to stage 3.

Dawkins remembered the pain so well, how it felt as if he had gone for a swim in scalding water, and how it felt as if his internal organs were being cooked from within. He now felt sorry for those Thanksgiving turkeys with how much they had to go through. But that was nothing compared to when he got stage 5'd, the highest setting of them all. The other settings had been indelible, but none could be as bad as their mother.

Dawkins cowered under the bed in fear, not wanting Barry to get him. Barry sighed in exasperation. "Come on, Comet. It's time to go outside, get some fresh air. Run around in the backyard and all that good jazz," he said in an annoyed tone of voice.

Dawkins only backed in deeper beneath the bed, and Barry's patience had finally worn thin. Barry then crouched down and looked under the bed at Dawkins. "Funnily enough, I'm not doing this for my own gain. I'm doing this for you. You need to go outside to do your business and get some exercise. We don't need another indoors accident, for grief's sake," he said matter-of-factly.

When Dawkins still refused to come out, Barry rolled his eyes and reached in for him. "Now don't you go making this harder than it needs to be, I just wanna check this off my chores list. Work with me here, Comet."

But the very moment Barry's hands grabbed Dawkins, that's when Dawkins whipped his head around with a menacing growl and chomped down hard onto Barry's forearm drawing blood. Barry screamed and reeled back, falling over onto his side in shock at what happened. He only stared at Dawkins who growled and scowled at him baring teeth angrily.

Barry's heart was pounding and he was breathing heavily, it took a moment for his scrambling thoughts to settle down. That's when Barry got enough sense in him to look down at his arm. He was afraid to look, but did anyway, then saw the deep dark crimson bite marks punctured into it, still leaking blood onto the carpet. His wounds stung as the sickly lukewarm oozing sensation ran down his arm. A shiver ran through him at the sight and feel of it.

Barry's breaths quickened, his chest starting to heave, and he glanced at Dawkins blankly then back at his arm. Barry then glanced at Dawkins one last time and said in a barely controlled voice, "you have some mouth on you. . . And you – you, turned on me. . . Well, there is only one thing to be done about this. This is your own doing."

Dawkins peeked his head out to watch as Barry got up and went over to the TV stand. Barry's shoulders drooped and he sighed, grabbing the heavy bulky gray remote off the stand. Barry then glanced back with a sad expression. "I don't know what's going to happen to you, but I don't even know if I should even feel bad for you. What I will say though is. . . whatever happens, happens. If you don't make it through, then don't blame me for it because I told you before," he said forlornly.

Dawkins tilted his head as Barry turned around holding the remote, only staring at Dawkins with that same sadness etched on his face. Dawkins didn't believe his remorse for a second, he was only doing this to take all the blame off himself. He didn't care one bit about whether he lived or died. Barry then spoke slowly with remorse, "I'm sorry, Comet. . . "

Then Barry turned the dial on the remote, all the way to stage 5. A blatant sticker next to the setting read out a stark warning:

"Pravilny Co is not liable for any nerve damage or injury resulting from usage of this setting. Use at own risk."

Dawkins winced tightly, bracing himself for another torture session, but he felt nothing. He slowly opened his eyes to see Barry still standing there, remote in hand, staring at him with a blank expression. "I knew he wasn't mad enough to inflict it. It was a simple scare tactic to deter me from detestable behavior. Heh, wasn't it?" Dawkins thought to himself.

That's when a low humming sound emanated from within the remote, and Dawkins' collar started to vibrate. Dawkins glanced down at his collar in a confused panic. The humming grew louder into an electronic buzz, his collar vibrating more intensely. Once the buzzing crescendoed, Dawkins' vision briefly flashed to white and he was hit by a sharp headache.

His entire body felt as if it were freshly skinned and dunked into boiling oil, taken out, only to be lit on fire. Dawkins managed to scream, but it felt as if someone had poured acid down his throat. It came out as a hoarse, high-pitched shriek as sizzling tears streamed down his face.

No one would come to end this madness, not just his own biological siblings, but Barry's parents as well. Because on this night, they had stepped out to make a trip to the airport to pick up Barry's grandmother, who would be staying over for two weeks. The pain was so bad that Dawkins could feel every single nerve in his body tingling from overstimulation, frying from all the microwaves running through him.

It felt like hours before Barry turned the dial to "Off". Dawkins took heavy breaths, letting out squeaky whimpers here-and-there, as he caught his breath. "Kibbles. . . I wanna die. I can't bear it anymore," he whispered, broken in spirit.

That's when Dawkins curled up into a ball and cried helplessly. He heard the sound of Barry putting the remote back onto the TV stand, then the footfalls of him walking over. Barry knelt down beside him and said in a quiet tone, "good to see you stood the trial, my hats off to you, Comet. You've got guts, no doubt."

Dawkins felt a surge of guilt and regret spurt out from within him. He then unfurled and gazed up at Barry whimpering. Barry, not expecting this from Dawkins, then looked at him with stunned surprise. "Ready to go outside, boy? Outside?"

In response, Dawkins lowered his head in submission and whimpered crawling up to Barry. Dawkins gave Barry's bloodied arm a small apologetic lick, cringing at the salty coppery taste but did it for Barry, and then nuzzled up to him. Barry's expression softened and he started to pet Dawkins. Unlike the combative snapping dog he'd met before, this new submissive meek pup let him pet them, pliant under his hand. "Aww, you feel bad about snapping at me boy? Water under the bridge, buddy, water under the bridge," cooed Barry.

Dawkins felt sparks of attachment flaring like fireworks within him with every single pet from Barry. A smile worked its way onto his face and he nuzzled against Barry's legs. At the back of Dawkins' head, he heard a voice screaming at him with urgency. But he couldn't decipher what the voice was saying. All he knew was that it was trying to warn him of something. But what? Dawkins shrugged it off and pushed that nagging incessant voice away, and with that, the last thing he heard rang out clear: "No, something is REALLY off about this!"

Then he closed the door on that little voice, and let his mind fill with Barry's warmth and love. His loyalty to Barry was what was most important to him now, and he would never let him down. He muttered in his daze. "Mmm, Master. . . "

A/N: That's chapter 5 for you! One of the easier chapters of this story to write, actually and wasn't too much trouble to edit. So far, chapter 3 and 4 have been the hardest to write, with chapter 4 taking a tad more editing to get through. Overall, I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. See you next chapter!