passed by Fang's basket, stopping to wink at him. 

Fang looked away, disgusted. 

Tramp sighed and continued walking, saying over his shoulder, "You'll come around soon, pal. That leg can't stay broken forever."

"Ch'yeah," Fang scoffed. "You ain't the one wearin' it."

Tramp lifted his eyes to the cieling and smile hopelessly, shaking his head. He walked into the living room, Lady right behind him.

"Angel," Lady called. "You need your sleep too, dear."

Fang gagged.

Angel smiled at her. "Coming."

When the other pups were asleep and Lady and Tramp had gone out, Jim Dear and Darling walked through, carrying a sleeping Junior, and turning out the lights as they went.

Fang sat alone, awake in this soft, too-cushiony bed. He laid his head on the edge, letitng his ears flop over the sides.

"How's it going, 'champ'?" Angel giggled, whispering as she tip-toed toward his bed, stopping in front of him. She smiled.

The Golden Retriever pup's heart pounded, but he refused to show how much he still felt for her. She'd hurt him, but he didn't ever want it to show. She'd rejected him, and he'd reject her failed attempts to make peace in the one way he knew how: cruelty. Sarcastic, knock-down-drag-out cruelty, pricking her right where it would sting in the meanest voices possible.

Fang mimicked her smile nastily, throwing back a sarcastic retort, "Aside from th'broken leg, doin' swell. Need anything before yer tucked in, 'dear'?" He sneered meanly at her.

Angel blinked rapidly twice. She closed her mouth, looking at him from the bottom of her cornflower-blue eyes, eyebrows lowering angrily. "I thought you'd be okay after you got some rest. I guess not." She turned to go.

Fang sat up. "'Ey, 'ey, wait a minute, there, doll."

"What now?" Angel looked over her shoulder at him.

"You gonna help me get this thing off or what?" Fang displayed the red collar around his neck.

Angel gave hima cute little smile. "Figure it out on your own, Fang." She began walking toward her bed again, only to stop and lower her eyelids, the half-smile still on her face as she turned to look again at him before continuing on, "That's only if you really want it off by the end of the week."

Fang's head jerked backward, ears swinging with it. "End 'o the week? Is that when this leg's gonna be better?"

"That's what Jim Dear guessed." Angel shrugged. "Who knows--maybe you'll think a little differently by then."

"Yeah, well, don't hold yer breath, dollface," Fang scoffed, laying down and resting his head on his paws again.

"Sweet dreams, Street Dog," Angel smiled and walked to the bed in between Scamp's and his sisters'.

Chapter 11


 

 (5 Days Later...)

 "I don't know, Pidge," Tramp murmured, squeezing shut one eye and ducking quickly as a splash of water narrowly missed the end of his nose. "He just can't get used to it."

"None of the others were ever this bad," Lady fretted at his side.

"What about me?" Scamp growled at her left, licking a patch of rumpled fur on his shoulder, shaking himself one more time.

Tramp grinned and winked at him. "No one was as bad as you, pal."

Angel giggled. The dogs were all looking up at the table in the kitchen. The edge of a newspaper--a wet one--was dangling over the edge. On top of it sat a tin basin.

Splashing and angry noises sounded from above.

"Settle, settle," Jim Dear was saying.

Lady lowered her head hopelessly. Tramp snorted, and Scamp elbowed Angel, both of them bracing themselves.

Jim Dear's hands set down a ruffled, clean lump of Golden fur.

Fang shook himself twice, showering the remaining indoor dogs to his left.

"There is no good way to take a bath, huh?" Scamp panted a doggie grin at Fang as he walked past.

Fang stopped, that stupid red collar tightening as he spoke, glaring scarlet daggers at Scamp. "Shut. Up."

"Hey, calm down, champ. Around here we don't act that way," Tramp said.

Lady's eyelids lowered, glancing scornfully at Fang. She knew Tramp had told the Golden Retriever pup this time after time--what was it going on now, twice each day?--but he always came back with a...

"Oh," Fang smirked at the former Street Ledgend, "I noticed, Kennel King."

...smart-aleck retort. Lady sighed.

Jim Dear, wiping his hands, left the room and walked outside.

Fang made faces behind his back as the human exited the household.

"Lighten up, will you?" Angel rolled her eyes at him. "It was just a bath. It's not like it killed you."

"We can only hope," Scamp muttered out of the corner of his mouth in her ear. Angel blinked, resisting a smile.

"Newsflash, Chew-Toy," Fang grumbled, lumbering up to Scamp and bristling. "Only weiner dogs mumble. You got somethin' t'say, speak up, and we'll see who--"

"That's enough," Lady interrupted, fighting the urge to curl her lip and snarl at Fang. When would he learn his manners?

 Tramp pushed between Fang and his son. "Get a clue, champ. You've been a stick in the mud for the past five days since y'got here. I suggest you perk up, or there's gonna be issues. Got it?"

"Make me, why don'tcha?" Fang muttered under his breath.

"Now who's mumbling?" Scamp countered, ears pricked. He steadied his legs, head sunk below his shoulders and his teeth bared. He, like the rest of them, were getting sick of Fang's dark attitude. Lately, the three triplet Cocker Spaniels had been the only ones to brighten his mood. But then, they adored him, so what did he have to be mad about around them?

"You wanna go, Chew-Toy?" Fang snarled, bouncing on his paws. He let out a barrage of barking.

"Cool it!" Tramp snapped, again intercepting him. "I've got an idea. You," he nudged Scamp towards the door to the living room, "go out that way. And you," he glared at Fang, "go out the other way. Upstairs maybe. I don't want to hear anything else out of either of you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sure thing, Pop," Scamp muttered reluctantly. He began growling insults to Fang under his breath, but the Golden Retriever didn't hear it.

Fang curled his lip, not moving, rolling his eyes slowly upward and keeping his gaze on the cieling, eyelids lowered. "Ughhhh..."

"Look at me when I talk to you, champ," Tramp growled.

Fang glared into his eyes. This was no Street Ledgend. This was a wannabe goody-two-paws playing 'House' with a bunch of pups at the Park--and he played the role of 'daddy'. Wimpy alley-reject.

"I said, do I make myself clear?" Tramp said, in a warning tone no ordinary pup would talk back to.

Fang wasn't ordinary. He smirked, nastily faking a good-natured smile. "Crystal." He turned, tail in the air, and went to walk up the stairs, stopping at the mirror at the bottom.

He curled his lip again, eyeing the red collar with venom in his gaze. When in the name of the dogcatcher's truck am I gonna get this thing off? He crouched, keeping the weight off his injured paw, and pushed his hind legs against the collar. It pushed his extra neck fur against the back of his head, but it didn't slip off. Stupid collar.

 He trudged slowly up the stairs, ears dragging. He limped. His injured leg was getting better, but it still wasn't fit enough for him to even run anywhere.

He stopped at the landing where the huge stained-glass window. Fang looked down into the yard. If only he could get outside, he'd get out of here! Two days until his leg was fully healed. He'd seen so much stinking happiness and contentment, he was well past tossing his disgusting puppy chow. Fed in a bowl, sleeping in a basket, taking baths every day. When the other pups went for a walk, he wasn't allowed to go with them.

"Hey, stranger. How's life treating you?" Angel softly came up behind him, sitting next to him.

Fang groaned inside. Another of her attempts to be friendly and nicey-nice. Gag me. But her sentence made him swing around, standing up, ignoring the fresh wave of pain shooting up his leg. "Life?" he scoffed. "This ain't no life! You're eatin' slop, sleeping in a basket with a pillow in it--who are you tryin' to kid? You're under house arrest, doll, and they're lettin' you think you're living? Gimme a break!"

"Well, that's a matter of opinion," Angel shrugged, not fazed. "You call it prison. We call it home."

"Uh, no, wrong, I call it torture, and so should you." Fang turned his back on her and sat down again.

There was silence. Angel sighed heavily, then stood up and walked until she was standing in front of him, at the base of the set of stairs that led to the top level of the house. She lowered her head and tried to look into his eyes. He looked away.

"What's so bad about it?" Angel asked gently. "You're out of the cold, dry, well-fed, and you're surrounded by friends that care about you..."

He snorted and turned around again.

She followed. "...No matter how much you act