Author note: NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author's [and original copyright owners'] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to "train" generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It occurs during "Watching the Watchmen" More specifically, it falls between Chapter Five (Battle of Port Royal) and Chapter Eleven (Skull & Crossbones).
I strongly recommend reading "Watching the Watchmen" first as many parts of this one shot will not make sense otherwise.
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
Being stuck on the sidelines sucked. Getting a call from Sam, right at the beginning of Team One's shift, that their lieutenant had been arrested by Internal Affairs – he'd nearly gone berserk. Finding out from Lou that the union lawyer didn't believe Sarge was innocent – Spike hated himself a little. More than a little. If he could see, then he would've been on-duty. He could've helped his teammates convince the stuck-up lawyer that Sarge had done the best he could. The only thing he could, to keep his family safe.
But as bad as all the phone calls about ongoing efforts to get Sarge out of Castor Troy's posthumous revenge were, the worst was yet to come. Partway through another long, miserable day of struggling to learn how to live without his sight, his phone rang.
He heard Gwen pick up the phone, checking the caller ID. "Ed Lane," she called, already moving towards him.
Spike held out his left hand, focusing his magic to 'see' the phone in Gwen's hand; he took the phone and swiped his thumb across the screen to accept the call in one smooth move, as easy and practiced as if he could still see. Bringing it up to his ear, he said, "Scarlatti here."
"Spike." Grim control over a sense of fear – what was wrong? His breathing and pulse picked up even without Ed having said anything. "Been watching the news today?"
"No, why?" he demanded, heart hammering in his chest.
There was a long, dreadful pause. "Riot at T-South."
"What?"
Ed didn't stop, just kept going, as if he had to keep going or risk breaking down. "Team Four…they found out the prison put the Boss in Gen Pop."
The phone slipped from nerveless fingers – he heard Gwen catch it, but the buzzing in his ears was stronger. Sarge… A veteran cop in General Population… That was a death sentence…
There was a murmur from Gwen, a distant rumble that must've been Ed's voice, but the buzzing was getting louder and louder. Rough pants, getting faster and faster. A whimper, bubbling up from the deepest part of his soul.
A firm hand landed on his arm and he felt himself pulled along, probably towards the table Gwen liked to use whenever she came over to his apartment. He let her pull him, too numb to muster any resistance. Oh, gawd, Sarge… He'd…he'd been in General Population? Why? Why would they do that? Why would they do that to a veteran cop?
Gwen pushed him down in a chair and he heard her crouch, right before she gently tugged his head down to her shoulder. Another whimper broke free, along with a suspicious wetness from his eyes, but he swallowed down the urge to cry. He might be just this side of useless, but he still had his pride, darn it.
"What'd Ed say?" he mumbled.
His home health care aid sighed. "He said Parker's missing right now. He and your teammates are going to look for him, make sure he stays safe and doesn't end up back in General Population. They just didn't want you to worry if you couldn't get ahold of them for a few days."
He stiffened. "You aren't telling me something."
There was a long silence between them and he waited, pulling away from Gwen and fixing a stare on her. Blind he might be, but that meant he'd learned how intimidating it was when someone who couldn't see you just sat there and stared holes into you.
It took another few minutes, but Gwen finally sighed again – he heard her hair shift, as if she'd nodded to herself. "Ed told me that it's…it's very likely that Lieutenant Parker was attacked during the riot. Since he's missing, they aren't sure if he's been hurt or not."
Spike's fists clenched, so hard he felt his fingernails dig into his skin. But he wouldn't break down again. Attacked, he could believe, missing, he could believe – Ed wouldn't lie to him or Gwen like that – but she wasn't telling him everything. And whatever she was hiding, he'd find out. Just not from her.
He waited until Gwen had been gone for an hour before he called Lou. His best friend was wary – Ed must've told the whole team about his breakdown earlier. Anger feathered at the constable, but withered in moments. Their team, they didn't keep secrets like this – emotional compromise was as bad as physical compromise in their line of work.
"Lou, please," Spike begged. "All Gwen would tell me is Sarge's missing. I'm not stupid, buddy, I know it's worse than that."
He heard a hard exhale and when Lou spoke again, his voice had taken on a grim, deadly serious air typically reserved for those magic-side calls that went sideways. "Okay, Spike. Highlights."
"Highlights," the raven agreed at once.
"We know Sarge was in the riot – pulled out as many guards as he could. All but one."
His scalp prickled and he licked dry lips. "Rioters got there first?"
"Yeah," Lou confirmed in a bleak tone that both of them knew. "Dressed one of their guys as the guard, lured Sarge in."
"How bad?" Spike croaked.
"Don't know," was the blunt, terrifying reply. "We found the guard and a rioter at the scene, but the fence in that same sector was cut. Team Four's computer tech got footage of people goin' out and comin' in, so we don't know who took Sarge."
Spike hesitated. "What about…"
"Sarge locked it down," Lou replied, cutting him off. "Hasn't brought it back yet – we're hopin' he does, though."
His fingers trembled, but he had to know. "Lou…"
His best friend understood – he always understood. For a long minute, the other man was silent. Evaluating. Then, in a low tone, he said, "We're not giving up till we find him." A pause. "You hear me, Scarlatti?"
"I hear you," Spike rasped. "Not giving up here, either, promise."
"Good." Lou allowed silence to filter in, but only for a minute. "I gotta go, buddy. Sorry."
"No," Spike insisted, though it felt like his whole body was going numb. "Go get our Sarge back, buddy."
"Copy that."
The phone clicked off and Spike sank down, not noticing when it slipped out of his hand. Missing. Injured, beaten, maybe dead – he'd just promised not to give up, but to not give up in the face of a riot? A prison riot, no less – the whole team knew how dangerous those were. How they could flare up and out of control in seconds – and you couldn't bring guns into that mix. Less-lethal all the way – safer, but oh, so painfully slower.
A plaintive sound broke free and he hunched forward, the phone bouncing under his dresser as his palms struck the carpet – he'd known it was bad, of course he knew that, but this was so much worse than he'd feared. By a factor of twenty; everything inside him was howling in anguish. Screaming at him because he was letting them down. So useless, so broken, that Sarge could get beaten to death and he still couldn't help.
Something deep within snapped and he felt his form blur. Hands spread on the carpet turned into paws and he fell sideways with a little yelp as his legs straightened by themselves, unable to hold the half-kneeling, curled up position he'd been in. He still couldn't see, but his nose twitched as scent rushed in and he felt large, furry radar-dish ears flex, catching every last scrap of sound.
He whimpered dismay and fear – an involuntary transformation wasn't good – but the fire of his emotions had dimmed. As though his animal side couldn't handle that many emotions. Sarge had never mentioned having trouble feeling emotion in his animal form, but…but…he was a gryphon and Spike was a wild dog. Maybe gryphons could feel all the same emotions as a human could, but a wild dog couldn't.
Scrambling for his magic, he snatched at it, demanding that it shift him back. He wasn't a dog, he was human. At first, it slipped right through his mental fingers – panic surged to new heights – but then he felt a sense of chiding from the power within him. Caught off guard, the terror faltered and as it did, Spike remembered. Fear was one of the quickest ways for a Wild Mage to lose control over their magic. Sarge had said that right out – his nipotes hadn't agreed, not entirely, but had conceded that fear created an emotional block that made it difficult to wield magic. Especially for Wild Mages, because their magic wasn't tame, like wizarding magic was.
Letting his muzzle hang open, Spike closed his eyes and took the time to breathe. To calm down and get ahold of himself. Fear clamored in the background – he was stuck, he was trapped, and what was he going to do? It was hard – he was so used to the fear now – but he locked his emotions away, counting out each breath and focusing on his heartbeat. He was no sniper, not like Ed or Sam or Jules, but they'd all learned the basics of rifle handling as members of the SRU. And sniper breathing was useful for keeping cool in the field, where tempers might flare and emotions ran wild.
Minutes passed, minutes he chafed at, but getting impatient was a good way to stay stuck. Fear throbbed with every beat of his heart – the first time he'd transformed, Sarge had been right there to help and now he wasn't; Spike's closed eyes narrowed and he shunted the fear away, back into the rough mental box he was using for his emotions. At last, he felt marginally calmer and knew that was as good as he could get.
Reaching out, he tugged at his magic, feeling it surge into his grip, somehow eager. For what, he couldn't tell, but when he pressed his will into it, the eagerness faltered, turning sullen. Insistent, he pushed harder, focusing on his human form with all his might.
Come on, come on…
Emerald slipped away, only to come back, a sense of pleading filtering into his awareness. What? Confused, Spike cocked his head, prodding at his magic – was he missing something? There was a whisper of reply, he knew it, but it was too faint. Too indistinct to comprehend. He nudged harder, with a mental, Louder! Instead, frustration lapped at him, like the magic couldn't speak any more clearly.
Shaking his canine muzzle, Spike dismissed whatever the magic was trying to say. Maybe he could ask one of Sarge's nipotes to help once he was back to human. Give the kids something to do while Team One searched for Sarge.
Gripping his magic again, the blind raven envisioned his human form and shoved his magic at that image. He hadn't wanted to transform, so his magic could change him back. Now. But once again, the power slipped away, skating out of reach for a third try. Almost as if the magic was refusing to obey him; he nearly sobbed in frustration, but the longer he was in his form, the less he could hold onto the pain. The fear, the hatred, the self-loathing he'd been building up – his animal side couldn't comprehend such complex, self-destructive emotions and his mind, sliding more and more into that animal frame, was eager to embrace the simpler life of a wild dog.
Oh, he fought – fought hard – to keep himself on the human side of things, clinging to the now familiar despondency and despair, but the wild dog in his soul was just as determined and it had all the leverage. When he refused to quit trying to shift back to human, his magic solved the problem by sending him off to dreamland.
He stirred with a soft sigh and wuffle. After a moment, he settled back, too warm and comfortable to bother with moving. For several minutes, he lazed, trying to go back to sleep, but the sunlight nudged at him. Even blind, he couldn't sleep with the sun up – his work schedule too well ingrained to simply be dismissed. Unless he worked a night shift – then he could sleep all day long, too worn out to be bothered by the sunlight trawling through his bedroom window.
Grumbling under his breath, Spike uncurled and reached for the edge of the bed. For a moment, he was confused when he touched carpet instead of his familiar bedsheets; then he winced as he remembered. Magic – his magic, pulling Sarge's old 'sleep now' trick on him. Figured – it might be his magic now, but it had originally been Sarge's.
Still grumbling at his magic – and ignoring the smugness it radiated – he picked himself up and headed for the bathroom. A shower and then he could start figuring out what came next. The edge of the tub was higher than it should've been, though; he had to hop over it instead of a cautious step over it. Still puzzling at that oddity, he nudged the water on – and let out a startled bark as he twisted around, feeling cold water strike his fur and hindquarters. Reaching inwards, he yanked at his magic, pulling it up as he sought to shift. It pulled out of his grasp, skittering away until it hung just out of reach in his mind's eye, snickering at his predicament.
Already shivering as the cold water assault continued, Spike frantically pawed the water off and shook himself violently. Water droplets flew, speckling the tub and shower curtain as the last of the water drained out, leaving his front paws somehow colder. Whining, he surged for the edge of the tub, trying to scramble out, and smacked right into the fiberglass, nose first.
A second leap carried him clear of the tub, but his whole muzzle throbbed – he sat on the rug, one paw over his twitching black nose, whimpering in pain. Underneath his fur, he shivered – wild dogs were desert animals, which meant he was much more sensitive to the cold than other dogs would be. Add in blind and short – and he couldn't reach up to snag the bath towel hanging just out of reach above. He knew where it was as a human, but he really didn't want to smack his nose into any other walls. Once had been bad enough, thank you.
As he sat there shivering and waiting for the throbbing to die down, it occurred to Spike that if he'd succeeded in transforming back to human, he would've still been in his clothes. Eeugh – cold, wet clothing, clinging in all the wrong places. His magic radiated a sense of smugness and he snapped at it, growling. How dare his magic trap him in his Animagus form!
The power inside him was unrepentant, as though it regarded its actions as necessary, even if they made Spike unhappy. Growling louder, he glared with all his might at the emerald – Explain. Now.
His canine form chose that moment for a full-body shiver and Spike realized he wasn't getting any warmer by sitting on the bathroom rug. Setting aside his fuming, raging fury at the magic, the wild dog trotted back to his bedroom. Inside, he quested around, sniffing cautiously and reaching out with a paw to feel in front of him. It took another minute or two, but he managed to reach the top of his bed without running into anything. Leaping up on the mattress, Spike used his paws and muzzle to pry his covers up and slip underneath them.
Curling into a furry canine ball, he made sure his muzzle wasn't under anything – he didn't think the bed sheets could suffocate him, but best not to test that little theory. Even under the warm covers, he shivered – the bed hadn't been slept in and the sheets felt chilly, but he knew it wouldn't take long for his body heat to warm the enclosed area.
Letting his muzzle down with a tiny sigh, he returned his attention to his magic, mentally bristling at its audacity – he was not okay with being transformed against his will. He felt the magic tug at his awareness and let out a low, furious growl. Emerald paused and he 'heard' a soft whine from his own magic. As if it was protesting its innocence; his growl grew louder, only to cut off with a puzzled yip when his magic tugged again, more insistently.
Beneath the covers, his ears perked a touch. You gonna explain?
Emerald wavered back in forth in his mind's eye, then reached out. Frustration skated through his mind, followed by a strong impression of worry. Concern.
Bewildered, he asked, You're frustrated and worried?
Though no words were spoken, Spike got the sense that the frustration wasn't with him. Not directly. The worry and concern, though – those were all about him.
You turned me into a dog 'cause you're worried about me?!
There was a long pause from his emerald magic. The faintest of whispers reached him, so faint he had to go as still as possible to hear the words. Listen with your heart…
For what?
You will understand…
With that, the magic faded away, even as Spike loudly demanded that it come back and explain. Left alone in his head, the wild dog found himself staring into darkness, yipping at nothing. And no one. Angry though he was, it was apparent that his magic was running the show. Until he could get some help, there was no way he could shift back to human.
Letting out a long, canine sigh, the wild dog curled just a little tighter and dozed off.
Gwen found him – her startled gasp woke him up and he poked his muzzle out from under the bed covers, pricking his ears in her direction.
"Spike?" she asked, uncertainty ringing. Her brother, Elyan, had told her about magic and Spike made sure she knew he had magic – and an Animagus form. Not that he'd thought the Animagus form was something she'd ever have to worry about, but apparently his magic had had other ideas.
Closing blind canine eyes, he reached for his magic, tugging at his human form, and let out a canine sigh when his power skittered away. Not yet, it seemed to whisper and there was something else, something important, but mental fingers couldn't quite grasp it. He felt a surge of frustration and his magic twisted in his chest, as if it was just as frustrated as he was.
By habit, he opened his eyes again, though it really made no difference. Blackness surrounded him, broken only by an emerald shimmer that outlined Gwen's petite, yet solid form. As best he could tell, she was about his height – maybe an inch or two smaller – and just as tough as Jules in her own way. Gentle, no-nonsense, and practical; she'd been surprised by the idea of magic being real, but once she got over it, she strongly approved of Spike using his magic to compensate for the blindness. Along with teaching him how to navigate properly with his white cane, she'd made a point of teasing out all his abilities, ensuring he wasn't helpless, even in unfamiliar surroundings without his cane.
Reaching out with his snout, Spike rested his head against Gwen's arm and let out a soft, unhappy whine.
"You… Spike, is this your Animagus form?"
He nodded, another whimper breaking free.
"Can you change back?"
A whine, combined with a head shake.
"Do you want me to call someone?"
He shook his head wildly, skin heating beneath his fur – to lose control of his own magic was embarrassing. A fresh whine rose from his chest – he wanted back to human, but to be seen like this. So utterly helpless that he had to have the Animagus Reversal Spell used on him… Besides, his teammates needed to focus on Sarge – how to find him and help him after that riot.
Gwen sighed, but the emerald surrounding her moved in a nodding motion. "Alright, come on. Let me get a good look at you."
The wild dog squirmed out from under the covers and leapt down on the floor. One ear flicked towards the sound of the light switch turning on, but he held still, allowing Gwen to move back in and around his form. He twitched, jumping and swinging his head towards her when he felt hands running over his fur.
"How long have you been stuck?"
He ducked his head, whimpering; he wasn't sure, not with the way his magic had lulled him to sleep twice – or had that been his animal instincts the second time?
"All night? This morning?" Gwen probed. "You certainly weren't like this when I left yesterday!"
Tilting his head to the side, Spike considered, then tapped one forepaw. He hesitated, then tapped again.
Gwen huffed and he 'saw' her prop her hands on her hips. "You got stuck right after I left?"
The wild dog winced, but bobbed his head. It had actually been an hour later, but that didn't make much difference at this point.
His home health care aid sighed, surveying him for another long moment. "Are you always so thin when you're like this?"
Furry ears rotated in opposite directions and his tail drooped. One paw rose, rubbing at his muzzle, and he averted his blind gaze from Gwen.
"Does that mean you are too thin or that you don't know?"
The paw by his muzzle lowered and he tapped the carpet twice.
Gentle, Gwen crouched down and rubbed behind his ears, uncertain at first, but more confidently when he leaned into the petting, tongue lolling out as canine instincts sent pleasure buzzing through his system. His hindquarters curled underneath him and he sat, tail thumping against the carpet and a back paw vibrating with canine excitement.
"Do you know how much longer you'll be like this?"
Mournfully, Spike shook his head.
Gwen kept scratching as she considered what she knew – what Spike had been able to tell her. "Okay, I'll put together a meal and, um, take you out for a walk. If you're still stuck tomorrow, I think we'll need to call someone."
His tail stilled and he couldn't help the whimper-whine that he would have to be treated like an animal. It was almost enough to make him reconsider asking for help immediately. Almost.
Gwen was as good as her word. She put together three meals on plates, putting those plates on the floor where he could reach them. Along with the plates were three small cereal bowls full of water; he lapped the first bowl of water down to the dregs, so acutely thirsty that his throat hurt – though he hadn't realized it until he started lapping.
The walk outside was humiliating; the skin beneath his fur flushed so brightly that he was surprised no one could see it and the only good thing about the walk was when it was over.
After eating his dinner and lapping down the second bowl of water, the wild dog trotted back to his bedroom and hopped up, curling up under his covers again. With a huff and a sigh, he held still as Gwen tucked the blankets around him – enough to keep him warm, but not enough to trap him.
"I'll be back tomorrow morning," Gwen promised, rubbing his head and giving him one last scratch behind the ears. He let out a happy grunt, snuggling into the petting. She giggled and landed a final pat on his muzzle, right above his nose.
Footsteps moved away from the bed and he turned his head; emerald surrounded her slim form as she paused by the light switch. "Sleep tight." The light switch clicked off and Gwen left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Spike let his muzzle drop back down on the bed. Deep inside, despair and despondency twisted, too engrained to simply 'switch off', but the emotions were fast losing their power over him. The longer he was trapped, the more canine-like his mind became. It had taken him most of the day, but he'd finally figured out that he could feel more complex emotions, even as a wild dog, but his animal self-preservation instincts were stronger. Since despondency and despair were counterproductive to survival, the wild dog mentality was diverting his attention to other things and ripping apart the depression he'd been so carefully building up and nurturing.
There was a large part of him that wanted to fight. To cling to the depression. The despondency and the hopeless despair that he'd cemented into the foundation of his life as a blind man. But the rest of him was tired of the depression. Tired of the constant darkness – not just physical, but emotional. And now that he'd been forcibly separated from the emotions that had been controlling his mind, he had the distance to assess himself. An assessment that his human self utterly flunked.
How much longer, he wondered, would he have lasted? Curling in on himself, layering depression on top of guilt, reinforcing shame with despair – building a cage of darkness that made the black around him seem bright in comparison. Tears slipped free, dripping down his fur – he was blind, he was useless, and he'd never keep the peace ever again.
But that wasn't true… He'd survived a hot call as a blind man, calling entry so perfectly for Team Four that not a single hostage had been at risk as his fellow SRU officers arrested a man who'd been volatile enough that he'd violated a restraining order and shot his ex-girlfriend at her job in a grocery store. That was how he'd met the Schubaltz brothers, although their mother had been extremely wary of him for several weeks afterwards.
Ironic – when he'd been living through it, that had been the worst day of his blinded life, but now it stood out like a shining beacon of hope. A glimmer that he wasn't done yet, even if he never saw anything ever again. Except… The Toronto Police Department might be Equal-Opportunity, but the SRU's standards demanded able-bodied officers. They had to – in the middle of a hot call, there was no room for disabilities. Couldn't ask an escalating hostage taker to slow down, 'cause the cop behind the computer was blind and tryin' to keep up. And a blind bomb tech? The bad guys would die laughing.
Tears flowed faster – he didn't want to just be a cop, he wanted to be SRU. Team One. He wanted…he wanted what he'd had, right up until that Welsh Green crossed his and Spyro's path. And he knew, all too well, that life wasn't fair, but there was a little kid inside his soul that was wailing that this wasn't fair. What had he done wrong? What had he ever done to deserve being blinded?
Tears built up into sniffles and whimpers, sorrowing canine cries filling the air beneath his bed covers. He grieved, wailing for the life he'd lost. The dreams that had burned to ash beneath a dragon's breath. The unfairness of it all – the loss of his own identity as an SRU constable. The geek with combat skills, armed with wits, a quip, and a grin just as much as his gun.
Deep within, his emerald mourned along with him, even as it carefully prodded each deeply buried hurt to the surface. For far too long, Spike had buried his emotions, refusing to deal with them even as they festered, infecting his mind and soul just as surely as an untreated wound infected the body. Now that he was finally grieving, the magic was determined to lance as many emotional wounds as it could.
Gwen Coulby let herself into the quiet, dark apartment, grateful that her brother had insisted Constable Scarlatti give her a key. Just in case. Otherwise, who knew how long Scarlatti would've been trapped inside, unable to open the door or get himself food and water. Inwardly, she shivered – the idea of magic being real, it had been like a dream come true. She'd even been rather jealous of her brother and Scarlatti – Elyan got to work around magic and Scarlatti had it.
Well, she wasn't jealous anymore, not after finding Scarlatti trapped in his Animagus form. His own magic had done that – it was utterly appalling. She wished she'd called for help the day before, but Spike – he'd been so fearful and ashamed and she just hadn't been able to bring herself to override his clear desire to keep it secret.
If he was still trapped today, though, she'd have to call for help.
Reaching out, Gwen turned on the lights in the apartment and paused long enough to set her bags down on the kitchen counter before heading into the bedroom. She was disappointed, but not entirely surprised to find an African Wild Dog huddled under the bed covers. He was whimpering and whining in his sleep, thrashing as if trapped in a nightmare. Dark eyes widened and Gwen quickly pulled back the covers, freeing the animal before he could grow any more panicked.
Cool air flowed in as the canine pawed at empty space instead of restricting fabric. The whines ebbed, though he continued to whimper as a full-body shiver went through him. Gwen let the covers down and moved to the wild dog's head and chest, pulling him into a hug as he finally woke up. Spike leaned into her, whimpering for several minutes, even as she gently stroked his head and back.
Holding onto the animal and continuing to pet him, she considered, biting her lip. All along, she'd known her client was struggling with depression, but now that he was an animal, the depths of his struggle were far clearer. As was the fact that he wasn't getting any better, even with all the therapy and everything he'd been learning from her.
Early on, his best friend – Lou – had pulled her aside and taken the time to describe Constable Scarlatti. At the time, she hadn't understood, but it hadn't taken her long to figure it out. Lou had needed her to see who Spike had been, so she could help him get better. Unfortunately, despite all her efforts, nothing seemed to help. It was as if Spike was actively pushing away any and all hope that his life would get better. He'd pinned all his hopes and dreams on getting his sight back, leaving him with scant encouragement as the days and weeks dragged on with no improvement.
So… She could call for help now – they'd given it a day, but clearly, Spike was still incapable of shifting back on his own. She'd kept her word and knew he'd be embarrassed, but he wouldn't blame her or get angry at her decision. No, he'd just blame himself and his magic – adding yet another layer of self-blame and self-hatred to his deepening depression.
Or… She could give him another day or two. Take advantage of his canine form to drag him on outings he'd been staunchly resisting as a human. Distract him, maybe even provoke his animal instincts into actual play. It wouldn't solve everything, Gwen knew, but it would be something. A chance to show Spike that there was still plenty he could do, even without his sight.
A tiny smile crossed her face. Oh, he'd fight, but she had a feeling that if his canine half got a whiff of fun, it would overrule his determined sulking. Nodding to herself, Gwen felt her smile widen. It had been way too long since she'd had the chance to play with any dogs. Might as well enjoy it.
He accepted Gwen's proposal that she give him a bath and hopped in the tub easily enough, but hopped right out when she turned the water on.
"Spike!"
A whimper rang out and he hid behind her, deliberately shivering when she turned to look at him.
Reaching forward, Gwen turned the water back off, studying him. "Spike. You haven't had a shower in two days."
He nodded at that, but refused to move back towards the tub.
She frowned – he reared back in surprise that his magic could outline her that clearly – and glanced between the wild dog and the bathtub. "Is something wrong with the water?"
Trotting to be more in front of her, he forced himself to shiver violently, wishing he could talk. But if he could talk, he'd be back to human and this wouldn't be a problem anymore.
Her frown deepened and frustration heightened – she didn't understand.
Summoning up his magic, he turned, grateful when the power highlighted the wall, faucet, and the lever-knob that controlled his shower water. Edging over to the tub, he carefully stretched a forepaw over the ledge and managed to curl it enough to pull the lever, turning the water on again. He whined and tried to keep pulling, but he just didn't have the right angle, nor the pulling power.
Then Gwen reached over him, grasping the lever. "You need it warmer?"
He nodded frantically.
Suddenly, she pushed the water back off and scrambled up, hurrying out of the bathroom. Whimpering, he 'stared' after her – what had he done wrong this time?
But she reappeared with her phone in hand, shaking her head as she looked down at the screen. "Of all the stupid…"
He let out a plaintive noise, feeling his ears and tail droop down.
"No, not you, Spike. Of course you need the water warmer; you're a desert animal." Gwen crouched down in front of him. "Is that what happened, Spike? You tried to turn the water on and got too cold?"
The ears and tail drooped more and he heaved a canine sigh as his muzzle fell.
Gently, she stroked his back. "I'm sorry, Spike. But we won't make the same mistake now, will we?"
So saying, she urged him back in the tub, but kept him away from the water as she turned it on again, carefully increasing the temperature. Every few degrees, she had him check with his forepaw, smiling when he finally nodded. Standing up, she retrieved the removable shower head and brought it down; he yelped in surprise when water sprayed his back and hindquarters, but settled down as the soothing warmth of the water filtered into his awareness.
"Better?" Gwen asked, smiling growing at his yip of confirmation. Bringing the shower head closer to him, she set to work in earnest.
He grudgingly accepted the collar and leash, knowing they were the only way he could go outside. The collar was actually too small – Lou had gotten it as a replacement for the puppy-sized collar the Welsh Green had burned off Spyro's neck – but Spike had dealt with it the day before and knew he could do it again.
What he wasn't expecting was for Gwen to lead him to her car; canine ears pricked at the hiss of the car's rear hatch rising. "Come on, boy," she said, so brisk and expectant that the wild dog leapt up into the car without thinking. She swung the hatch down, closing it behind him.
Alarmed, Spike let out a sharp bark – what was Gwen doing? Large, dish-like ears swiveled forward as Gwen slid into the driver's seat and started her car. He stumbled as the car began to back out of its spot and barked again.
"Spike." Her tone was so firm, he yipped surprise. "We're getting you a new collar."
He whined, ears flattening.
"We don't need someone calling Animal Control because I'm 'neglecting my dog'," Gwen explained.
Oh. Oh, bad – Spike shivered violently as his imagination spooled out the rest of that scenario, highlighting every possible negative outcome and turning it into a sure bet. Quickly, he laid down on the rough carpet, ducking beneath the car's rear window to avoid anyone looking in and seeing the too-small collar. With Gwen to pose as his 'owner', the odds were low, but all they needed was some crazy PETA activist to see him, decide his collar looked 'too tight', and Animal Control would be swooping down as fast as his team on a hot call. He'd be micro-chipped and fixed in no time flat.
Inside the pet store, Gwen quickly snagged an associate working the floor. Once she had the other woman's attention, she gestured to Spike, hanging close behind her. "I was wondering if you could help me," she began. "My dog's collar broke apart this morning; I still have his puppy collar, but it's way too small." Deliberately, she fidgeted. "My brother got me the collar that broke, but he's at work…"
The store worker nodded, crouching down to get a better look at Spike. "Oh, my, he's gorgeous."
Gwen smiled even as Spike ducked further behind her. "He is," she agreed, reaching down to rub the wild dog's head, right between his ears. "But he's also blind, so make sure he knows where you are if you want to pet him."
The other woman, Caucasian with very short hair that had been dyed a shocking shade of pink, looked up, a narrow expression on her face. "Blind?"
"Born blind," Gwen lied, watching as the woman relaxed, nodding agreeably again. "I was thinking," she added. "Once he's in his new collar, I could pick out a couple toys for him." She rubbed Spike's head again, scratching behind his ears to head off any objecting yelps. "He's being such a good sport with his old collar right now."
The store worker beamed. "He is," she agreed. "Let me take a look at him, okay?" Reaching forward, she cooed, "Hi there, big boy." Her fingers stilled just shy of Spike's nose, giving him a chance to sniff at them before she stroked his jaw fur. "Come on, boy, let's find you a new collar."
A new collar he could get onboard with, but toys? What was Gwen thinking – it wasn't like he'd be using those toys once he got back to being human. He was about to bark objection, but then Gwen rubbed behind his ears and canine bliss overrode everything else. More than long enough for the two women to agree on their course of action and lead him to the section of the store for dog collars.
"Here's one," the store employee said; Spike's ears pricked, magic outlining the woman's form and the collar in her hands.
"Elyan would never forgive me if I got Spike a pink collar," Gwen declared.
Pink...? He barked, wishing he dared growl.
"Do you have any leather collars?" his home health care aid asked. "Elyan got him a nylon collar, but I think it might've been a bit rough on his skin."
Large dish-like ears folded back; trust Gwen to get snobby over a collar. One that he probably wasn't even going to wear once this was all over. Seriously, all he needed was a cheap nylon collar that he could pay Gwen back for once he was out of his form. Cheap enough that he wouldn't feel bad about tossing it as soon as possible.
But without any way to verbally protest… Oh, sure, he could bark, but he was starting to get a sinking feeling that he'd lost control of the situation as soon as Gwen got him in her car.
The leash on the puppy collar tugged, forcing Spike out of his woolgathering as he was pulled after the two women. Sighing to himself, he followed, pricking his ears as Gwen and the clerk discussed the leather options available. So long as it wasn't pink, he really didn't care which collars were stylish or comfortable or whatever else people looked for in pet collars.
Then he heard Gwen give a little exclamation and sensed her crouching at his side. The puppy collar was slid off and he shook his neck out automatically, relief coursing through his system that it was off. When he stilled, Gwen gently wrapped a new collar around his neck, clicking it into place.
"Perfect," the store clerk cried.
"Should I go for the red instead of the gray?" Gwen asked, earning a considering silence.
"The red would stand out more," the clerk mused.
"It would," Gwen agreed, taking the new collar off. "I'll take that red one, please."
"Of course," the clerk replied. "I'll bring a spare red collar up to the register so you can get that one on your handsome boy's neck."
"Thanks," Gwen said.
"Do you want to get him a harness?" the clerk suggested. "They put less pressure on a dog's neck when you're walking them."
No. Spike barked, laying his ears flat. The collar was bad enough, he did not need a harness to go along with it.
But Gwen was already clipping the leash to the new collar and tugging him along. He whined, laying his ears back even further. In front of him, he 'saw' Gwen still and turn back to him. Crouching down, she waited for him to come to her, butting his head into her fingers. "Spike, I didn't say 'yes,' " she chided. "Let's just take a look, okay? If I don't see anything, we'll just take the collar and a few toys."
He nipped at her fingers, daring a soft growl.
"Spike, stop," she scolded, lowering her voice. "You need to stop hiding, letting life pass you by."
He danced backwards, tail tucking between his legs, and Gwen patiently waited him out. After a few moments, he moved forward again, though his tail remained tucked.
One finger landed on his snout, pushing it down a smidge. "There is a world out there, Spike; just because you can't see doesn't mean you're helpless. It doesn't mean your life is over."
He growled, feeling his fur bristle.
Gwen gently smoothed down that bristling fur. "If you won't believe what I'm telling you, then I'll just have to show you."
In all honestly, Gwen wasn't interested in buying Spike a harness. The leather collar, though more moderately priced than she'd expected, was enough of an expenditure, albeit one she knew Spike would pay her back for once he could change back to human. Still, there wasn't any harm in looking, no matter what the sulking canine at her heels thought.
Her opinion didn't change once she saw the actual harnesses. Oh, she could see why dog owners and pet activists might drift towards them – in addition to less pressure on an animal's neck, most of the harnesses looked solid enough to give a dog walker much greater leverage over an unruly pet. But Spike wasn't going to be trapped for more than a day or two; of that, Gwen was determined; and he was human. She didn't have to worry about him getting out of control.
Then she spied a black harness, made of two large pieces of nylon on a dog-shaped model. The upper section, designed to go across a dog's back, sported several long strips of velcro and a sturdy handle that sat right behind the model's neck. The lower section had a triangular piece that rested against its chest; two rounded ends with buckles connected to the front of the upper piece while the lower triangle extended into a long strip of sturdy fabric that went between a the model's front legs. Past the front legs, Gwen saw how the lower piece curved up on both sides to connect to the upper section with a wide strap and buckle arrangement. Next to the model, two bags and a drink container sat, the two bags made of the same black fabric while the drink container appeared to be sitting in some sort of fabric loop.
Frowning, Gwen went over to the model and picked up the drink container; dark eyes widened when she saw the velcro on the fabric loop. Reaching out, she pressed the velcro onto the model's harness, nodding when they stuck together.
"That's a tactical harness." She turned to the clerk, noting how Spike's ears perked up at the word tactical.
"Tactical?" Gwen asked.
The clerk nodded. "It's for service dogs, mostly, but I sold one last week to a canine military handler." She made a face. "Can you imagine, sending a dog into a war zone."
"They save lives," Gwen countered. "My brother wasn't a canine handler, but he saw plenty when he was serving." Turning back to the harness, she frowned thoughtfully. "Do you have a large one of these?"
The clerk huffed, but nodded. "One moment please."
"I'll take Spike over by the toys," Gwen replied. "Pick out a few for him."
That earned her a fresh smile. "Of course," the pink-haired woman agreed.
Gwen drove to her own neighborhood, wary of walking Spike too many times at his apartment complex. No need to get Spike into hot water with his landlord for having a pet when he didn't. Pulling into her driveway, she glanced in the rearview mirror at the wild dog laying in her small SUV's back area and smiled.
The black tactical harness suited him perfectly, bringing to mind Elyan's black and gray SRU uniform. Around his neck, the red leather collar stood out – she really should've gotten the gray one instead, but something about the red just felt right. She'd put the puppy collar in the bag with the toys, insisting to the clerk that she couldn't just throw it away. And she couldn't; Spike must've had it for some reason.
The bag in question sat in her back seat, with a thick, tug-of-war rope, a Frisbee, and several tough rubber balls that had come with a plastic throwing device. Quite a clever looking thing, Gwen had to admit.
Parking her car, Gwen retrieved the bag and then moved to her back hatch, opening it to let Spike out. The canine jumped down, sticking close beside her as she led him inside the home she and her father lived in. She could afford to move out, but had long ago decided against it – her father was a tough, gruff old construction worker, but he was also a longtime widower who'd never moved on after her mother died. If she left, he'd be incredibly lonely and she couldn't bear the thought of doing that to him.
Inside the house, she guided Spike to the kitchen and turned to her refrigerator, locating a plastic dish full of leftover beef. Several hunks migrated to a plate and she put the plate on the floor, tapping it so Spike could find it. "I'll get you some water, too."
He let out a small yip of thanks and went to work on the beef.
Locating a bowl, she filled it with water and put it beside the plate before turning back to the dog toys. By the time her employer was done eating, the toys were free of their plastic prisons, and Gwen had already mapped out the route to a nearby dog park on her phone.
Spike had never been to a dog park before; they hadn't been a thing when he was a kid and he'd been wary of taking Noble into any uncontrolled situations. Especially since he'd been deaf – not to mention a fast runner.
Thankfully, it seemed Gwen had chosen a time of the day when there weren't all that many dogs in the park. His nose was on overdrive with all the scents he could pick up, but emerald magic stepped into the gap, highlighting everything around him. Large ears twitched towards a small dog that was already yapping at the unwelcome intruder; he snorted and turned away, back towards Gwen.
She chuckled, crouching down. "Don't worry, Spike. That dust mop barks at everyone in the neighborhood."
He whuffed, one ear swiveling towards the other dog. Then Gwen held out a ball, getting it right under his nose. Spike reared back, unwilling to be lured into play, but his canine instincts were already perking up.
Emerald traced a wicked smile across Gwen's face, right before she straightened and hurled the ball with all her strength.
Ball! Legs pumped and he raced after it without conscious thought, running with all his might to leap, catching the ball in his mouth. He was curling and trotting back towards Gwen when he realized – that was the first time he'd played since the dragon attack.
Halting, he let the ball drop, one paw rising to his snout – grief and despair pressing in once more – but Gwen hurried to meet him, scooping up the ball and hurling it over his head.
He barked, whirling and racing after the ball again. Magic pulsed in his veins and he felt it push away the memories. For an instant, he swore he saw the ball – a bright yellow, tumbling down on grassy turf, with the sun peeking through the clouds above and trees moving in the breeze on the far end of the dog park.
It was only a flash before darkness pressed in, broken only by emerald highlighting the world around him.
But as he scooped up the ball once more, hearing the creak of the tactical harness as he curved around and raced back towards Gwen, he felt a wild sense of hope build up in his chest. He'd seen something. He'd seen the ball – and maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be alright.
~ Fin
Author Note: I was browsing through Amazon for dog collar options as well as harness options. So if you'd like a 'look' at the gear Gwen found for Spike, head on over to Ao3 where I have the Amazon links for the collar and harness which I picked out. Sadly, Amazon links are not allowed here.
I wish everyone a wonderful Resurrection Sunday, 2025!
He is Risen!