Chapter Text
Night had washed over Los Angeles in a soft, hazy glow, the kind that made the streetlights look like blurred halos and the sidewalks shimmer faintly from the day’s leftover heat. Sam walked with his hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, enjoying the rare bit of quiet the city granted him at this hour. His footsteps echoed faintly against the buildings as he crossed another intersection and drifted past a narrow alley.
That’s when he heard it—so soft he almost mistook it for the squeak of a loose pipe. But then it came again: a tiny, pitiful whimper.
Sam froze mid-step.
He turned his head, brow furrowing, and took a slow step toward the alley’s mouth. “Hello?” he called gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hey…you okay?”
Another sound—this time a trembling little cry.
Sam’s heart squeezed. He stepped into the alley, eyes adjusting to the darkness until the shadows settled enough to reveal a small, trembling shape huddled near an overturned trash bin.
A puppy.
A tiny black puppy, thin as a reed and curled in on itself like it was trying to disappear. Its fur was patchy, dirty, and matted. But its eyes—its eyes were startling. Icy blue, huge and terrified, reflecting the faint light like shards of frost.
“Oh, buddy…” Sam breathed, his chest cracking wide open.
The moment he moved closer, the puppy scrambled backward, nails clicking on the concrete. It shook so violently that its whole body trembled with each breath.
“Hey, hey, no, it’s okay,” Sam said softly. He lowered himself into a crouch, making himself as small as possible. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.”
But every time he inched forward, the little dog inched back—until, finally, it hit the corner. Concrete behind it, chain-link fence beside it. No escape.
Sam paused, realizing what he’d done. “I’m sorry, little guy,” he murmured. “I know you’re scared. I know.”
The puppy let out a tiny growl—more of a squeak than anything—and pressed itself so hard into the wall behind it that it almost disappeared into the shadows.
Sam took one deep breath and then leaned in carefully. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.” His hands moved slowly, palms out, fingers relaxed.
The puppy tried to squirm away, but Sam’s arms closed around it gently, scooping it up like fragile glass. The dog let out a frantic burst of energy—writhing, kicking, letting out panicked little yelps—but Sam held on, firm but impossibly tender.
“Shhh…shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered, cradling the small trembling body close to his chest. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
The puppy continued to struggle in weak spurts until it finally ran out of strength, letting out a broken whine as it sagged against his hoodie.
“There you go,” Sam murmured, stroking the top of its head with two fingers. “I’m gonna take you somewhere warm, okay? Somewhere safe. You’re gonna get good food and water and a real bed. Promise.”
Sam unlocked his apartment door as quickly as he could manage one-handed with a scared puppy pressed against him. Warm air and soft light greeted them as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut.
“Alright, buddy,” he said gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The bath that followed was…an experience. The puppy didn’t fight nearly as hard as before—probably too exhausted to—but he watched Sam with those huge blue eyes the entire time, flinching at every splash, every movement, every touch. Sam kept his voice low and steady, washing away dirt and grime with slow, careful hands.
“There we go,” he murmured, rinsing out the last bit of suds. “You’re doing so good.”
When he wrapped the puppy in a towel, the tiny thing shivered so much that Sam immediately pressed it closer for warmth. He dried the pup off until his fur fluffed up just the slightest bit—thin, but finally clean.
“Okay,” Sam whispered with a small smile. “Food time. You’re gonna like this, I promise.”
He set the puppy on a soft blanket near the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a bowl of dog food—good stuff, not the cheap kind—and knelt down in front of the pup.
The little dog eyed the bowl…then eyed Sam…then the bowl again.
Sam chuckled, breezy and warm. “You can eat it,” he assured him. “It’s safe. Swear.”
The puppy hesitated, stepping forward with painfully cautious little movements. He sniffed the food tentatively, glancing back up at Sam as if asking again.
Sam gave an encouraging nod. “Go on, buddy. It’s yours.”
That seemed to be all the permission the pup needed.
He took one tiny bite—then froze.
Then, suddenly, it was like hunger crashed over him like a wave he could no longer hold back. The puppy dove into the bowl, devouring the food in frantic, desperate mouthfuls, never once taking those icy-blue eyes off Sam.
And Sam just sat there, heart full, watching this tiny life finally, finally eat like he believed he deserved to live.