Prequel Series (Start)
[Note: For those of you who wanted to see more of a certain not-smarty. I may also do something about Ghast and what his new “daddeh” thinks about the piece of shit actual-smarty who tormented his pet.]
Anthony awoke, shivering, memories of the previous night still lingering. He desperately ached, both physically and spiritually, for what he knew would make everything better. He reached for the box he kept on his nightstand, but stopped. There was nothing there, not now. He was past that! Never again! The resolution didn’t help with the suffering, but at least it gave it meaning.
Staggering out of bed, he wandered into the kitchen to grab something to eat. He wasn’t a picky eater, since he’d never been able to afford to be one, so a half-finished container of take-out from the day before yesterday was all he needed. He fought with nausea as he forced himself to eat; he needed the calories, he was still devastatingly underweight from years of poor self-care.
More than anything, even more than the kiss of the needle, he wanted to call in sick to work. The thought of returning there, of seeing her face grinning at him, was too much to bear. But he needed the money; he was barely making ends meet as-is, and even a single sick day might tilt that delicate equilibrium for the worst. He’d have to go.
Worse, though, was the memory of what he’d left unfinished when he staggered to bed, drowning in self-loathing. He didn’t know if he could do it, if he had it in him to make the short trek to the bio-waste bins. When he looked at the still body, he saw too much of himself, abandoned, suffering, lying the gutter waiting to die. But he had to, waiting would only make it worse.
With a long sigh, he mustered the willpower to do what he had to. Flinching in anticipation of the lifeless cold he knew he’d feel, he reached down to pick up the still corpse. As soon as he touched it, however, he withdrew his hand with a gasp. It was warm.
No! I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t even let him die in peace! I’m sorry! he thought, self-loathing deepening. Again, he reached down, and this time had the strength to hold the long-suffering creature to his chest. He had to do it, he had to fulfill the poor creature’s last request. Hand shaking, he reached for the pill bottle and overturned it in his hand. Empty.
“Am dis skettiwand?”
“No. I’m sorry, the painkiller wasn’t enough. I…I’ll find something else!”
“Am otay. Smawty nu hab huwties nu mowe. Onwy feew wawm.”
That’s right! Even if it wasn’t enough to finish him off, the fluffy had had a massive dose of painkillers for a creature of his size. He probably wasn’t in any pain, and maybe couldn’t feel anything at all. Better than the alternative.
“I’m sorry, but as soon as those painkillers wear off you’re going to start hurting again. I can make sure you go forever-sleepies before that, though.”
“Smawty am otay.”
“I know, but soon you won’t be. Believe me, I know. I don’t want you to suffer anymore. Please, just let me help you!”
“Smawty nu mind. Du wut maeks 'ou happy, nice mistuh.”
In his current state Smarty probably didn’t care what happened to him, but Anthony knew that soon, he’d return to his prior state, in agony and desperate for death. It was kinder to end it now, before it came to that. He wouldn’t feel anything, so it didn’t matter what method Anthony used, as long as it was quick. Something clean, though. He couldn’t stand the thought of having to scrub the remains of the fluffy out of the carpet, and by God he was going to die in private with a bit of dignity!
He pondered his options. A knife? Too visceral, he knew he’d screw it up and this wasn’t the time for needing second chances. Poison? He didn’t have any gentle enough; he wasn’t going to use drain cleaner for this. Snapping the neck? No, even imagining the sound made him gag and tremble. Dammit, there had to be something!
“Wub 'ou, daddeh.”
The words shook him to his core. Memories of another fluffy, a beautiful alicorn, gone. Memories of those same last words as she was taken away to suffer in the mill. All so he could feel the needle one more time. Sudden rage, directed only at himself, flared within him.
“No. Not this time. Not again. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this again.”
He pulled out his phone, calling in to work, but there was no reply. Fuck it, he’d hated that job anyway, and it’s not as if it paid well. He’d find a way. But for now, he had something else he had to do.
…
“I’m not going to blame you for trying to help him, but he’s not doing well. I don’t think his chances are good, those injuries haven’t been treated in too long. If the infections don’t kill him, he’ll wish they had.”
“I know, but there has to be something we can do!”
“Listen, kid. I’ve worked here for a long time, and something I’ve learned is that sometimes, it’s best to just let go. You can’t save every stray you find, and sometimes trying to help only makes things worse.”
“I know, believe me. I’ve been where he is now. But he’s like that because I let it happen. I can’t let it end like this. I’m not asking for a miracle, just for a chance.”
“Just…don’t expect too much. Even if he survives, I’m not sure if he’ll thank you for it.”
“That’s fine. That’s enough. A chance is all I ask for.”
“I’ll get the wounds cleaned and closed as best I can, and give you some antibiotics to take with you, but that’ll all I can do. Normally, he’d have to go in without anesthetic, since fluffies usually don’t handle it well, but I see you’ve already taken care of that.”
“At the time it seemed like the best option.”
“Again, I’m not blaming you. I’d’ve done the same thing. Honestly, it was the best choice to make; either outcome was better than what he was going through.”
“Thank you, doc. It means so much to me.”
“Just doing my job. Now, you probably don’t want to watch this next bit…”
…
“Anthony?”
He jolted to his feet. He’d almost fallen asleep there, after sitting and waiting for so long. Hope and fear clashed in his heart. Shaking with anticipation, and more than a little from his ongoing fight with the needle, he walked to the now-open door. The vet’s assistant smiled at him in a non-engaging sort of way.
“How is he?”
“I’ll let you see for yourself. Follow me.”
Smarty didn’t look anything like when he’d last seen him. The nerve dangling from the eye socket was gone, and that side of his head was wrapped in bandages. Bandages were wrapped around his hindquarters, as well, and there were numerous bald spots where they’d had to shave him to apply the medical glue to his wounds. But most importantly, his remaining eye was open, and he was smiling.
“DADDEH!” he cried when he saw Anthony, and only a quick movement from the vet stopped him from walking off the table. Anthony’s chest filled with butterflies, and tears crept into his eyes.
“He’s a fighter, all right,” The vet said, his smile this time more genuine than when they’d first met.
“How are you?” Anthony asked.
“Smawty stiww nu hab huwties, bu’ nu feew sickies nu mowe. Tank 'ou, daddeh!”
“He’s probably going to be fine,” the vet responded to Anthony’s look in his direction. “I underestimated whoever did this to him; they clearly knew how to keep a fluffy alive and suffering. He’s going to need antibiotics, but he’s mostly out of the woods now.”
“Thank you!” Anthony almost collapsed from the relief.
“Listen, son,” the vet said, voice lowered so Smarty couldn’t hear. “He’s not going to enjoy life for a while, maybe ever. As soon as that painkiller wears off he may fall right back into the wan-die loop. I would offer you something to help him, since he doesn’t seem to be allergic to painkillers like most fluffies, but you know where that leads,” he glanced down at Anthony’s arms. “Is it worth it?”
“I’ll let him decide. If he really wants to die, well, I’m not the one to make that decision for him. That’s all I can do.”
“That’s all anyone can ask for, I guess. Well, he’s as ready to leave as he’ll ever be, so this is it for now. Please bring him back for check-ups if he doesn’t end up making that choice, though.”
“Will do. Thank you again.”
“My pleasure.”
“Am Smawty goin’ home wif daddeh nao?” Smarty asked as he was carried out to the car.
“Yes, we’re going home. But first, there’s something I have to do.”
“Wut am dat, daddeh?”
“It’s time we both moved past letting labels define us,” Anthony said, looking down at his arms without self-hatred for the first time in so long. “From now on, your name is Angel.”
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Will Angel’s former owner find out about Anthony’s efforts to save his fluffy? Also, did the abuse cause memory loss in him? He doesn’t seem to remember Jonathan.
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We was told, and believed, that his prior owner actually wanted what happened to him to happen, so he’s not exactly torn up at the prospect of not seeing him again. As for Jonathan, he doesn’t have any reason to go looking for a fluffy that was already killed and disposed of, according to the daycare.
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i totally didnt expect Smarty/Angel’s story to continue, awesome!
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For surviving that torture the little fluff deserves to be named after the one who saved him. Even if Anthony doesn’t see it himself, to others he’s probably very much an angel in disguise. 
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