FSE

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Okay, so here is Chapter 2. Sorry, won't be making my one week deadline, better up it to 2 weeks. Between all the other things I do, it's hard to find time to write. I feel this chapter was a little rushed, but I put it up anyways. Hopefully it accomplishes what I want it to. Anyways, as usual, feel free to comment, let me know what you liked and/or didn't like. Now it's time to relax, and work on Chapter 3. Also, stay posted for edits of both this chapter and the first one. :) Until next time guys! :)

-Feral

Aimless Fate: Chapter 2

The miles flew by, as Stray held the speedometer pinned at over 100 M.P.H. Yeah, it was speeding, but the faster Stray left his home, the better. So what if a cop pulled him over? 'Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen tonight', the canine thought grimly. A stab of pain sliced through his left shoulder. Stray gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel harder. The blood had dried, leaving his fur sticky and matted. It was going to be fun to clean it, he thought, scoffing. A sign flashed by the side of the road. It read: Clearwater City 10 miles. The drive to Clearwater usually takes about two hours. Stray made it in a little over an hour.

When he left Mike's house earlier, Stray had no idea of where he was going. After, hitting the Interstate, he decided he needed to tell Michelle the events of the night. His phone had been lost at some point during the night, so he couldn't call her. He could go to Underworld, find her, and hopefully stay with her, at least for a little while. Another jolt of pain ran through his shoulder. 'Damn! Need to do something about that.' He thought. Concentrating on the road ahead of him, he ignored the pain. To keep his mind off the hurt, both physical and mental, Stray thought of Michelle.

The last time he had seen her was probably the last time he was at Underworld. Times had been more fun then. No responsibility, few problems, and plenty of entertainment. Stray chuckled, remembering the crush he used to have on Michelle. The two were like brother and sister, both wanting it to stay that way. Stray had imagined though. He had many thoughts of what they could have done together. Her slim figure, that bushy tail, the way she moved . . . The canine blushed, slightly aroused. The best part of her was her eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes. Shaking his head, Stray restrained his imagination. Michelle was beautiful, no doubt, but they were not meant for each other. It just wasn't supposed to be.

The lights of the city were now on the horizon. Stray reluctantly let off the gas, knowing it was stupid to speed within city limits. Entering the city, it took another half hour to get to Underworld.

Finally, Stray made it to the nightclub. The clock in the car's stereo read 3:11 a.m. A yawn escaped the exhausted canine. He hadn't realized how tired he actually was. Being drugged and having your friend and his family murdered can do that to you. Parking the car, Stray looked at the large pyramid-like building. Bright purple lights illuminated the outside of the building. Beams of matching light cut through the night, flashing in random patterns across the sky. It was huge. Stray groaned. How the hell was he going to find Michelle once he got in?

Opening the car door and stepping out, a familiar sensation blossomed in his shoulder. 'First, let's cover this wound.' The canine thought, digging through Mike's car for something to cover it with. Looking in the back seat, Stray found a plain grey hoody. He carefully slipped it over his head, moving his left arm as little as he could. It was a little tight, but Stray wasn't trying to look good, just hide the fact he had been shot. Taking a deep breath, he walked toward the club's entrance.

A large Doberman, wearing black jeans and a matching shirt with "SECURITY" written in bright silver letters stood by the door. Approaching him, he stopped Stray. "Sorry, we're about to close for the night. Come back tomorrow."

"Look, I don't want in." Stray said wearily, "I just need to talk to a friend. She's a husky and a bartender here. Her name is Michelle. It's an emergency." The bouncer just looked at the small canine standing in front of him.

"Sorry, can't do that."

Stray took a step towards the bouncer, sticking his chin up at the dog, locking eyes with him. "Look, there's been a death in the family." He growled, "I need to talk to her about it." The bouncer pulled his lips away from his teeth, and Stray feared he was mere seconds away from having his ass handed to him. Stepping back, the Doberman placed a finger to his earpiece.

"One moment," The Doberman pressed a button on his headset, turning his head from Stray. He talked in a low voice, too low for Stray to hear. After, a brief conversation, he turned back. "We've notified Ms. Michelle. She's coming out here to meet you."

"Thanks."

The bouncer grunted. Stray stood, anxiously waiting. What was he going to say? With a long sigh, he closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. His head hurt from all the emotions he was going through: pain, sorrow, guilt, anger- when would it end? Now, he had to tell his other best friend, his "sister", that Mike was dead.

It wasn't long before the husky rushed out of the club's front doors. She saw Stray standing nearby. Running to him, she threw her arms around the canine, hugging him tightly. "Stray!" she exclaimed. Stray yelped from Michelle's hug. Quickly letting go, she looked him over. "You're hurt!" she cried, "What happened? They said it was an emergency." Stray softly put his hand over his wound. He slowly looked at the husky. Her blue eyes held him in their gaze, silently asking questions the hurting canine did not want to answer.

"Mike", he said, closing his eyes.

"Oh God!" the husky said, placing her hand over her mouth. Taking a few breaths to steady herself, she asked, "What happened?"

"Come with me." The pair headed towards the Corvette. Leaning against the car, Stray took some deep breaths. Turning towards Michelle, he blurted, "Mike's dead." The husky squeaked and tears formed in her eyes. Stray closed his eyes, struggling not to cry, "And it's my fault." A knot formed in his throat, and he found it hard to swallow.

"I'm sure it's not." She said, after a few minutes. Walking over to the agonized canine, she pulled him into her arms. "What happened?"

Stray gasped, trying to say the words. After several failed attempts, he finally managed, "I'll tell you later." Drawing a ragged breath, he continued, "I hate to ask, but, I need a place to stay." The canine looked at her, the pain and sorrow clouding his green eyes. When Michelle met his gaze, she saw he was hurting, deep inside. She had never seen her friend in this much pain. Stray had always hid his pain from others. He always tried to ignore it, act as if he were fine, even if he wasn't. Not tonight. Anyone could tell that the poor mutt was broken inside.

"Of course you can stay with me," she said into Stray's ear, "I just have to let my boyfriend now you're coming." Stray's ears pricked up at the word "boyfriend".

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes, I'm living with him now. He won't mind." Pulling a phone from her pocket and stepping back, she pressed a button and held it to her ear. Stray looked at the night sky. It was clear, not a single cloud to block the infinite stars in the sky. The moon was almost full. 'So beautiful' He thought, 'Such a beautiful night for such a horrible day.' A tear came to his eye as he wondered what the view of the night was for Mike. 'At least you're in a better place, not here, wracked with pain.'

Michelle put her phone back in her pocket. "Come on, you can follow me to our house. Let me go get my car." Stray nodded, as the husky walked across the parking lot. Minutes after she had disappeared, a blue Eclipse sped towards him. Michelle honked. Getting into the Corvette, Stray slipped behind her and followed her.

The drive out to her boyfriend's house led them outside the city. The house was nestled in a patch of woods on the outskirts of the city. It was built on a hilltop, overlooking the area. The cars pulled up the gravel driveway, coming to a stop at a garage on the side of the house. As the cars' lights cut off, Stray stepped out onto the gravel. Looking back at the driveway, he could see the lights of the city miles away, over the tree line. The canine turned around, as he heard the sound of the garage doors opening. He looked over the house. It was a big, wood house. Stray guessed that Michelle's boyfriend wanted to be away from the city, away from everyone else. Large windows were on the front side of the house, leading out to a deck on the second floor. It seemed like a nice place to hide from everything.

Michelle called out to Stray, gesturing for him to follow her in. Stepping into the garage, he noticed a black Camaro beside Michelle's Eclipse. The car shined under the fluorescent lights, the silver racing stripes almost shimmering. Stray went through the door in the garage, and climbed the stairs leading to the house. At the top was some sort of small foyer. His friend led him through a door, connecting to an open kitchen. The canine couldn't help but look around. All the appliances were stainless steel, shining in the light coming from the lamp hanging overhead. The tabletops were all polished stone. There was a countertop bar on one end of the open room. Past the bar, Stray saw the living room. It had leather couches, a low table in the center, and a huge flat-screen T.V. on one end and a fireplace on the other. Looking up, he noticed the ceiling was high, two-stories up. It made the house feel huge.

A short German shepherd leaned against the island in the center of the kitchen. Three full glasses, of rum, judging by the open rum bottle beside them, were on the tabletop. "Hope you like rum." The shepherd said, offering Stray a glass, "It's all I have at the moment." Stray guessed this was Michelle's boyfriend and owner of the house.

"It's fine." He said, taking the offered drink. Without hesitation, he downed the entire glass.

"You better take the bottle," said the shepherd, handing it to him, "You look like you need it." Stray took the bottle and decided that was the best gesture he had received all day. He put the bottle to his lips and took a lengthy swig. At this moment, it was the best drink he had ever had. After pulling his lips from the bottle, Stray put the glass down and looked at the shepherd.

"Jacob, this is Stray, my old friend. Stray, this is Jacob, my boyfriend." Michelle gestured, introducing the two.

"I wish we had met under better circumstances." Jacob rubbed the back of his head, nervously.

"Screw it; it's nice to meet you, anyways." Stray took another hit from the bottle.

Michelle moved over beside Jacob, kissing him lightly and grabbing a glass. "Now, can you tell us what happened? Come in the living room. Make yourself at home." She turned and made her way to a leather couch in the adjacent space. Jacob followed her, sipping from his own glass, and sat beside her. The shepherd put his arm around her and their tails curled together. Taking a deep breath, the canine walked to the couch opposite from where the couple was sitting. He sat down, holding the rum bottle between his legs. For a moment, all he could focus on was his tail moving slowly from side to side. His vision blurred. Stray couldn't decide if it was from his exhaustion, or if the alcohol was kicking in. It didn't matter. 'How do I do this?' He wondered, still watching his tail. Still looking at the floor, he began.

"Mike's dead." He stated bluntly. His eyes stayed focused on his tail. His ears perked up at Michelle's whimper. Stray's tail swished, just over the hardwood floor. The only sound in the room was Michelle's crying. Stray mindlessly counted the strokes of his tail. 12 strokes later, Michelle attempted to speak. The husky opened her mouth, and then froze. Her jaw worked, forming a word, but no sound came out. Closing both her mouth and eyes, she tried again. This time she forced the word out.

"How?"

Taking another pull from his bottle, the mutt continued. "Some bastards murdered him." He stated flatly, never looking away from his tail. Jacob's eyes widened and his grip tightened on the husky. A squeak escaped from her, before she buried her head in her boyfriend's chest, soaking his fur with her tears. Stray desperately tried to drain the rum bottle. Any escape from this pain was welcome, be it slumber, alcohol, or even- death. His tear ducts were basically burned out by now, but hearing Michelle sob, that was unbearable. He looked across the coffee table to the couple sitting opposite him. Jacob was holding Michelle tight, eyes closed, nose pressed to her head fur. Her face was turned away, her body convulsing with her sobbing. Their tails remained curled together. Sighing, Stray told them the story of the night: how he had spent the day with Mike, his abduction, the murder, and his flight to Clearwater.

They listened, Jacob holding his girlfriend closely, as she turned her face sideways to listen, her fur slick with tears. When he had finished, he downed what was left in the bottle, and stared at the ceiling. Alcohol and exhaustion seized his body. His head swam and his vision was fuzzy. His chest was warm, however, the alcohol masking the hurt that lied beneath. Darkness crept around the edges of his sight, letting him know his eyelids were closing. 'Please- please, take the pain away.' The suffering canine begged, 'I don't care, just make it stop.' The darkness called to him, beckoning with promises of peace. It was there, he just had to go to it-

"Stray!"

Something was shaking his shoulder. A tingle went through his left shoulder. The canine pushed against the encroaching darkness. He could hear his name. His senses struggled to work. Another tingle traversed his shoulder. The darkness retreated. Then it hit him. The sensation in his shoulder wasn't a tingle, it was burning pain. The canine cried out, jumping from the pain. The world shifted under his feet, and instead of jumping up, Stray jumped sideways and landed hard on his other shoulder. The pain pulsed in his shoulder. He lay there, groaning and clutching his injured shoulder.

"He's hurt!" Michelle cried, looking at Jacob.

"Yeah, that shoulder is sensitive. We need to get that hoody off."

"Stray, can you take that jacket off? Jacob needs to look at you." The dazed mutt looked at her, clearly confused. "He's a doctor." She explained, "Let him look at you." Not really caring, Stray removed his hoody. Pain flashed through his entire upper left arm. He threw the jacket away, panting.

"Good." Jacob kneeled on the couch, examining the mutt's shoulder. He noticed immediately the hole in Stray's shirt. "Gunshot wound." He noted. "Dear, could you get the first aid kit and some alcohol?" Michelle nodded, walking off to get the kit. Jacob turned back to Stray. "Good thing you're sort of drunk, this is going to hurt." The injured canine looked at him. "Sorry, but we're going to have to make do." Michelle returned with the small white box. The shepherd opened it, laying stuff on the coffee table, barely looking at each item. "Scissors, I need scissors." The husky ran off, only to return with a pair of scissors. Jacob took them, cutting Stray's shirt up the middle. Carefully peeling the shirt away, he examined the wound. "Blood's dried around the wound, but, it is still pretty fresh." He said to himself, gingerly touching the skin around the hole. Stray winced. "Yeah, it is sensitive." He grabbed a penlight from the table and shone it in the wound. "Some bleeding, but no major vessels or bones hit. Just a flesh wound. Can't find and remove bullet fragments here. I'll have to disinfect and patch up." The shepherd muttered, grabbing the alcohol. "Get ready, this is going to burn." He soaked some gauze with the fluid. "Deep breath," he commanded. Stray inhaled-and yelled when the shepherd pressed the gauze to his wound. His fingers dug into the leather couch, as the doctor cleaned the wound.

Finally, Jacob removed the gauze, now stained red with blood. Taking another piece of gauze, he carefully cleaned around the wound. Next, he grabbed more gauze and a bottle of something. "Don't worry, it is an anti-bacterial. It prevents infection." The shepherd explained, smiling, "It doesn't burn." Soaking the gauze with the yellow fluid, he firmly pressed it to the wound. "Michelle, would you help with the bandaging?" The husky grabbed the bandaging, stretching it out for her boyfriend. "Here, wrap it around his shoulder, and bring it under his other arm. Yes, like that." Jacob instructed, as Michelle wrapped the bandage around Stray. Standing up, the shepherd asked, "Feel better?"

Stray sat up, rotating his injured shoulder. It stung, but it wasn't burning pain anymore. Not wanting to use energy to speak, he gave the shepherd a thumbs-up. "Good. You can clean up and sleep in the guest room, if you like."

"Fuck it," the exhausted canine slurred, falling back on the couch and closing his eyes. 'Finally, the peace of sleep,' he thought, drifting into the darkness.

Jacob nodded at Michelle. They waited until Stray's breathing reached a steady rhythm. Then, they carefully moved him into the guest bedroom down the hall.

***************************************

The darkness had lied. It did not bring him peace, as he had hoped. Instead, it brought him nightmares. Stray tossed and turned in his sleep, his sub-conscious replaying the events, adding its own twisted details. That smile. That smile, filled with sharp teeth, dripping with blood. Stray wanted to look away, but it filled his vision. Two orbs, glowing in the darkness, shone above the horrific grin of death. They were eyes, demonic, golden eyes. Then the wolf appeared. Stray stepped back from the monster. The red wolf continued to smile, his glowing eyes unblinking. His body was distorted, thinner, and more grotesque. Long, thin claws grew from his hideous hands, almost scraping the floor. He moved towards the horror-struck canine. Stray wanted to scream. For some reason, he didn't. He wanted to run, flee this hellish creature, but he wouldn't move. 'Run! Run damn it!' his mind screamed, but he just stood there. The diabolic wolf came to stand directly in front of Stray. The monster cocked his head to the side, staring at the canine. Bang! Stray felt something hit his chest. Bang! Bang! Two more hits to his chest. The canine couldn't breathe. He gasped for air, falling to his knees. The evil wolf looked over him, opening his maw, letting his long, forked tongue hang out. Stray heard a gurgle come from its throat. It threw its head back and laughed. The unholy sound shook Stray to his core. He fell over, closing his eyes, preparing for the worst.

When nothing happened, he opened them. He was lying on hardwood floor. Slowly, Stray rose to his feet, checking for injuries. Not finding any, the bewildered canine looked around. This place was familiar, too familiar. With a start, Stray realized he was in Mike's house. He was in the entry room. His ears swiveled this way and that, searching for danger. This was Mike's house, but something was wrong-terribly wrong. Stray couldn't quite place what it was, but something was not right. Taking a deep breath, he tried to sort it out. Something on the wall caught his attention. Stepping towards it, the canine drew back in fear. Long, thin lines scarred the wall. Some devastating claw had damaged the wall. Stray's heart thumped in his chest. What the hell was going on? His boot stepped in something wet. Swallowing, he anxiously looked down. It was blood. A long, sticky trail led from the living room doors to where the stricken canine stood. Grudgingly, he followed the disturbing trail to the living room doors.

The doors' nice wood had been clawed and ripped. Stray's paw froze, just above the golden handle. He feared what was behind them. He feared even more that he already knew the answer. With a quick inhale of air, he threw open the doors. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found. The living room was a mess straight from a horror film. Darkness sat in the room, like an ominous cloud. What little light was in the room, threw ghastly shadows on the wall. It was trashed, furniture flipped and stuff scattered around. Stray cried out, seeing what lay in the center of the room. Sweat broke out over his entire body and he shook violently. In the center of the room lay Mike, in a pool of dark blood. Falling to his knees, Stray grabbed his head, shaking it. So caught up in his fear, he almost didn't hear the voice.

"Why didn't you save me?" The voice was almost a hiss. Stray continued to shake uncontrollably, ignoring the voice. "Why didn't you save me?" It asked again. The canine felt something touch his shoulder. He looked up, into the face of Mike. Screaming, he flung himself backwards, away from his dead friend. Panting and shaking, Stray beheld his friend, standing before him. The hole between his eyes was there, and Mike stared at him through lifeless eyes. "You're the reason I'm dead." He whispered his mouth not moving. Stray started sobbing.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he babbled hysterically, as Mike moved towards him. Mike stood over his friend, now hugging his knees and crying. Emotionless, he touched Stray's left shoulder. Confused, the canine stared at him. Something warm and wet was on his shoulder. He looked and saw blood flowing freely from where Mike had touched him. Falling back, he held his shoulder, seeing the evil wolf in the corner of the room, with his glowing eyes and wicked smile. Blood covered Stray and he tried to scream-

Stray woke up with a scream. He was sweating and out of breath. His hand flew to his injured shoulder. There wasn't any blood. 'It was just a dream,' he breathed, 'a nightmare.' Moaning, the canine let himself fall back into bed. His shoulder was sore, but thanks to Jacob, it felt better. Lying there, it occurred to him that he didn't remember being in this room. The last thing he remembered was Jacob patching up his shoulder on the couch. Michelle and Jacob must have moved him after he passed out. Stretching out, Stray observed the room. It was big, but not too big. There wasn't much in here except a dresser and some pictures of landscapes. Bright orange light came in from a window beside the bed. 'It must be sometime in the evening,' he thought. The canine rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 6:14 p.m. Throwing back the covers, he slowly stood.

The light hurt Stray's eyes and his head hurt. He noticed a piece of paper at the edge of the nightstand. Picking it up, he read, "Sorry, we moved you to a more comfortable position. We figured you would like a bed, instead of the couch. The bathroom is across the hall from you, if you need to shower or anything. Jacob and I have taken some time off work, we should be nearby if you need us. -Michelle"

Stray left the room, walking down the hall towards the kitchen. Michelle was in the living room, watching something on T.V. Her eyes were swollen slightly and there were many tissues lying crumpled near her, indicating the husky had been crying. "Good morning." She called. The mutt grunted in response. "Need anything?"

"Just a drink."

"The kitchen's right there. Get what you want."

He intended to do just that. Reaching the fridge, he scanned its contents. The thirsty canine grabbed a soda, quickly gulping it down. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he walked towards the bathroom. "You wouldn't happen to have any clothes lying around, would you? I'm about to shower."

"Not really, but, Jacob should have something you can borrow. I'll find you something."

"Thanks."

"You okay?" she asked concerned.

"Yeah." Stray contemplated telling her about his nightmare, but decided not to. "Are you?"

"I'll be fine eventually." Nodding, the canine headed towards the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, he noticed everything was clean and organized. It gave a really nice impression, and Stray wondered if all furs like Jacob kept everything immaculate. Removing his jeans and boxers, he stepped into the shower. Minutes later, steaming water was streaming over his fur. He found himself working shower gel into his fur, not really paying attention. The headache was still there, making it harder for the canine to focus. It wasn't like he really wanted to. At this point, Stray did not know what to think. Everything just didn't matter anymore. Standing, the canine let the water roll over him. 'There has to be something,' he pondered, 'something, to deal with this.' All he wanted to do was curl up and do nothing. His fingers found Mike's pendant, and began turning it over, again and again. He thought of Mike, and what he had said in his nightmare. With a heavy sigh, the canine stepped out of the shower.

Drying off with a nearby towel, he wrapped it around his lower body. Stray leaned over the sink, staring at his reflection. His bright eyes were dull. The weary face looking back showed he looked as bad as he felt. He saw himself as what he thought he was- a miserable, worthless stray. He had no home, no family, and few friends. 'Why am I even alive?' he wondered, beginning to hate the mutt in the mirror. His reflection pulled his lips back, in an intimidating snarl. "It's your fault!" he snarled, pointing a finger at the mirror. "You're the reason he's dead! You're nothing more than a pathetic, fucking stray!" Stray punched the mirror, shattering the glass. Pain bloomed in his hand. Panting, he fell back against the wall, seeing the broken fragments lying in and around the sink. He slid slowly to the floor, holding his head.

The door flew open, hitting the counter with a Bang! "Stray! What happened?" Michelle found Stray, curled up on the floor, and also noticed the broken mirror. Her friend just sat there, not even moving. Kneeling beside him, she gently touched his shoulder. "Stray," she said gently, "are you okay?" Touching his hand, she noticed the blood on it. "You're bleeding. What's wrong with you?" she asked worriedly.

"What do you fucking think?" He snarled, glaring at her. The husky was startled by his hostility. "Maybe the fact that my friend was murdered? Maybe the fact that I was completely helpless, and couldn't save him? Maybe the fact that I really am a stray?" He looked at her, anger flaring in his eyes. "I mean, look at me. What do I have? Nothing. I've lost, not one, but two families. My apartment, my home? Gone. What's left? Nothing. I don't deserve to live." Stray looked away from Michelle, concentrating on the blood dripping from his injured hand.

"Don't say that. Please, you're scaring me Stray." She moved to hold him. He pulled away from her touch, but she grabbed him tightly. "Listen to me, Stray. It was not your fault. Understand? It just happened; there was nothing you could do. I miss Mike, too, but he's gone and we have to accept that." She caressed his back, putting her face next to his. "You're not a stray, you're my friend. I know things are bad now, but they will get better. I don't know when, or how, but they will. I'll be here for you every step of the way." She kissed his forehead, rubbing his head fur.

"I just- I just don't know what to do. Nothing matters to me anymore. I want to do something, anything, but no matter what comes to mind, I just don't feel like it. I can't feel happy." Looking at Michelle, the anger faded from his eyes, slowly being replaced with sorrow. Michelle hugged him tighter. Seeing him in this state was just wrong. She couldn't see the cheerful, nonchalant, friend he was supposed to be. Instead, he was a broken mess of a creature.

Anger swelled within her. Michelle stayed on the bathroom floor, holding her friend, praying that he would be okay- and that the ones who had done this to him would burn in Hell.

Stray let Michelle hold him. He had cut his hand pretty bad on the mirror, but, it would heal. Jacob could patch it up in no time, he figured. Michelle breathed softly on his neck. She was doing her best to soothe him, and it was starting to work. 'Would he ever feel better?' he asked himself. All his feelings, good and bad, had disappeared. A void was all that was left of them. Slowly, he stood.

"I need fresh air."

Michelle nodded. On her way out of the bathroom, she handed him some clothes. Stray put the jeans and plain tee on. He looked at the remains of the mirror, noting he would have to pay Jacob for that. Stepping out, he walked towards the living room. He opened the sliding glass door that lead to the deck outside. The cool air was a relief, as it rushed past his face. Jacob had a nice deck. It looked over the trees, to the city on the horizon. The canine imagined it must look amazing with the city lit up at night. He laid back in one of the deck chairs nearby. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, letting the darkness take the sky. Stray inhaled, wishing there was a place where he could hide from the pain, and the nothingness inside it left him with.

His ears twitched as he heard the door open behind him. "Nice view, isn't it?" Jacob leaned back in the chair next to his. "It's one of the reasons I wanted this house."

"It is a nice view. This house is nice. You must get paid pretty well." Stray commented.

Jacob laughed, "Well, I'm only a few years out of med. school actually. I've been out for about three years. I'm still really just paying back loans."

"Who bought the house then?"

"My parents," the shepherd said indifferently. Stray turned to look at Jacob.

"They must be loaded."

Jacob shrugged. "They're doctors." He stared at the twilight sky. "We all are actually, me, my sisters, and our parents." Stray's eyebrows rose.

"Your entire family?"

"Yup," he continued, avoiding eye contact, "all in different fields." Stray whistled.

"It must have been tough growing up. Under all that pressure to be a doctor."

"Not really," the shepherd shrugged again, still not making eye contact, "I wanted to be one, so I became one."

"They buy you the Camaro, too?"

Jacob smiled, "Yes, it was my graduation present. My parents get us cars for graduating med. school." The shepherd smiled, remembering his graduation day. "It was the happiest day of my life. That day I became Dr. Jacob." He chuckled, "The better part of 20 years, working my tail off to get there. Mom and Dad were so proud. I finally had my degree, and my car. My sisters were there, too." Jacob trailed off, his smile fading. Stray noticed.

"Are your sisters older or younger than you?"

"One is older and the other younger." Jacob said apathetically.

Stray thought for a moment. "Where are you from?"

"The South."

"How did you end up here? It's a little far from home."

Jacob continued staring out over the railing. "I wanted a change of scenery. I was tired of the heat and the flat land." There was something in the doctor's voice, making Stray suspicious. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but Jacob's tone seemed-hurt.

"You ever miss home, and your family?"

Jacob shifted nervously, and cleared his throat. "Actually I haven't talked to any of them in a while. I haven't seen any of them since I graduated, now that I think about it." He continued staring over the trees, towards the city, deep in his own thoughts. His tail swished anxiously, and his ears were held low to his head. Stray guessed that Jacob wasn't telling him everything. He wondered why Jacob was uncomfortable discussing his family. 'Why did you leave your family?', he wondered.

Jacob turned, realizing Stray's hand was bleeding. "What happened to your hand?" Stray looked away, embarrassed.

"Well, I kind of got angry at myself and hit your mirror. I'm sorry, I'll buy you another one."

The shepherd nodded, "I see. Don't worry about it, I'll deal with it later. Here, I can bandage your hand if you want."

Both canines turned at the sound of the glass doors being opened. Michelle walked out, forcing a smile. "We all have a lot on our minds. So, how about tonight, we just go out, have a good time, and forget everything for awhile." She suggested, looking in turn at the two males. "We'll go to Underworld, get hammered, and let go of all our problems. It'll be like old times."

"Just without Mike." Stray muttered. Michelle looked down.

"Yes, but we need to get our minds off that. We need to accept he's in a better place, and forget the pain right now. Especially you, Stray." Her blue eyes bored into him. The canine sighed. She was right. He wanted an escape from the pain. Here it was. All he had to do was have a good time with Michelle and her boyfriend. A few drinks and losing himself to the music in the club seemed like a great idea. He had to get his mind off Mike, and his grief. If he didn't start feeling better soon- well he didn't want to imagine what he would do. Turning towards Michelle, he nodded.

Jacob began to walk inside, "Okay, we can take the Camaro, assuming Stray doesn't mind the back seat." The mutt shook his head from side to side. "Oh, and I'll bandage your hand before we go." Stray, thanked him, and followed him inside. After his hand was taken care of, he got in the car with Michelle and Jacob. Jacob backed it out of the garage, and headed for the city.

Stray stared out of the small window, thinking to himself. He had suffered so much lately and now, he was afraid to even sleep. He shivered, remembering the demonic wolf from his nightmare. Even asleep he couldn't escape the pain. Stray shivered again.

If the only thing he had was pain and suffering, what was the point of living?