said.

 

“Charlie”, the bull dog replied.

 

“I see you bought another bed”, the German Sheppard noted, and Carface glanced at the wooden frame behind him. He had to replace the old one after a certain crazy lady destroyed it with one of her grand entrances, but he didn’t see what that had to do with anything. “It’s a nice bed”, Charlie added, and Carface realized what he was doing.

 

“Don’t beat around the bush Charlie, you were always terrible at it. You came here to talk to me about something, now spit out or I’m going back to bed”, the pit bull mix said impatiently.

 

This was unlike Charlie, his old partner was always so confident around him. Whenever they spoke to each other there was always an air of cockiness, bordering on the edge of condescending arrogance, in Charlie’s voice (‘Don’t waste your time Itchy, there’s no reasoning with flunkies’ being only one of many examples). But now he was acting like some nervous puppy about to ask his first love out on a date.

 

Okay, bad analogy. That only reminded him of Charlie dressed as a woman, and the bull dog tiredly rubbed his paw across his face to try and get that disturbing thought of his head.

 

Charlie sighed. “I heard you got back today. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you all week. I haven’t been able to sleep at all tonight, and I figure I won’t be able to until I get this off my chest, so I came here”, the brown dog admitted.

 

Carface raised his eyebrow, intrigued. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one staying up late at nights. The bull dog crossed his arms and urged his former friend to continue. “Which is?”, he asked.

 

Charlie lowered his head slightly, and shuffled his feet across the floor. Not making direct eye contact with his enemy, something had to be troubling him.

 

“Carface, you and I have known each other a long time now. We used to be partners. I even used to consider you a friend, before you…you know”, Charlie said, trailing off the end. This time it was Carface’s turn to lower his eyes to the floor, but out of shame rather than unease.

 

“Anyway, whether we wanted to or not we were both around each other a lot more when we served our time in heaven. Spending sixty years in that fluffy torture palace really helps a guy mellow out, and put things in perspective”, Charlie continued.

 

Guilt replaced by curiosity, Carface’s eyes met with Charlie’s again. He was starting to understand where this was going now.

 

“Truthfully, I got over you killing me years ago. I just never told you because you were still so…untrustworthy”. Charlie explained, obviously struggling to find the right words for what he was feeling - another first for him. “And because I thought you wouldn’t care either way”, he added.

 

Carface, who was usually the master of playing it cool (just like Charlie), suddenly felt a lump appear in his throat. “I would have cared”, he said quietly.

 

Charlie nodded in reply. “Yeah, I know that now”, he said regretfully.

 

“A week ago, I saw the impossible and I realized, Annabelle was right, again, about there being hope in every living thing. Even you”, he continued, before he laughed and threw his head back. “God, I sound like something from a bad kids’ movie”, he chuckled wryly.

 

“Yeah you do”, Carface agreed, and the German Sheppard cracked a tiny smile.

 

“Anyway, I figured if you can be brave enough to bite the bullet and do what needs to be done, I can too”, Charlie finished, before he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

 

Meanwhile, Carface bit the edge of his lip. ‘The suspense is killing me’ had always, in his opinion, been such a stupid expression, especially to a dog who’s died three times and counting. But he couldn’t think of a more accurate saying to describe what he was feeling as Charlie dragged the moment out.

 

“I’m forgiving you for trying to kill me - many, many times”, Charlie said, opening his eyes so he could see his rival’s reaction.

 

“Martha Triumphant” by Murray Gold begins.

 

Carface, in contrast to his usual smug remarks or threatening insults, was silent for once. He had that rare look of thoughtfulness on his face that Charlie had only seen a few times in over half a century. The German Sheppard hadn’t known what to expect when he came in, but the bull dog was clearly taking this to heart, exactly what he had hoped he would do.

 

Carface slowly extended his arm from his side, and Charlie realized he was gesturing for a handshake. “Thank you Charlie”, he said humbly.

 

Charlie nodded again, and grasped the gray dog’s paw in his’. The last time they had shook hands like this was a few weeks before Charlie’s first death. By doing it again now they were purposely forgetting all the cruel, vicious things they had done to destroy each other - something they both used to think was impossible. But then again, maybe they should have known better than to think that. In their world, nothing was impossible.

 

When they let go of each other’s hands, Charlie was the first one to speak. “Of course, this doesn’t mean we’re friends now”, he announced; now that the awkward part was over his usual confidence was returning.

 

Carface caught onto what he was getting at almost immediately, and bounced back from sentimental old softy to former crime boss in the blink of an eye. “No, of course not”, he replied, shaking his head.

 

“Our little feud’s still on, it’s just not as personal as it used to be”, Charlie clarified.

 

“Who needs to be ‘mortal enemies’ when good old rivalry will do?”, Carface said lightly.

 

“Exactly”, Charlie agreed, grinning.

 

“Just don’t go soft on me”, Carface warned, pointing his finger at the Sheppard.

 

“Please, I wouldn’t dream of it”, Charlie snorted, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Good”, Carface replied (satisfied), and doing the same.

 

When they were done with their usual game of witty banter, Charlie looked around the candlelit room. “Well, I’d better be getting back. Itchy’ll notice I’m gone soon, and you’ve gotta get back to catching up on your beauty sleep. Heaven knows you need it”, Charlie smirked, before quickly turning around.

 

Instead of getting angry and throwing him out, like he probably would have any other day of the year, Carface just laughed it off as Charlie headed towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bonehead”, the bull dog called after him.

 

“Likewise, fat boy”, Charlie chuckled, looking back over his shoulder one last time before he closed the bedroom door.

 

A few seconds later, Carface could hear the sound of footsteps descending down stairs and another door opening. He opened his window and watched as the German Sheppard happily (and tiredly) walked down the street and in the direction of his and Itchy’s apartment. He had done his good deed for the night, and now he was ready for his forty winks.

 

And suddenly, Carface was feeling pretty tired himself. The bull dog closed the window and started to undress, taking off his vest, his favorite purple shirt, and the green bow tie that rounded off his signature look.

 

In record time he had changed into his nightshirt and slipped into bed, pulling the covers over himself and bathing in their soothing warmth. A whole week’s worth of insomnia was catching up to him, and he felt like he could sleep for days.

 

Of course, nothing had really changed. He still didn’t know where his life was heading, or where it would end, but the reason he could relax again was because he had finally realized he didn’t care about that - any of that.

 

To hell with his former life. Charlie just proved to him, then and there, that what a dog did in his past life didn’t matter; only what he was doing at the moment. Of course, he had heard that moral dozens of times in corny movies and from the world’s corniest angel, but it was the kind of thing someone had to experience for themselves to take seriously.

 

He was one of the only people in the world who were given a fourth chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it sitting in bed worrying about the future all the time. He was Carface Caruthers, he didn’t feel fear; fear felt him.

 

Besides, like Annabelle said, people decided what to do with their lives and wrote their own destinies. His role in the universe wasn’t dictated by past allegiances, he shaped it himself. And now that he was his own man again he looked forward to continuing to do.

 

But that could wait until the morning - the first day of the new year (the anniversary of his death would mark the beginning of a new era for him). Right now, he had finally found peace of mind again, so he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

 

Once he was nice and comfortable, he blew out his bedside candle and closed his eyes, quickly floating off into the world of dreams.

 

It was only after Carface

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