Metamorphosis:

10:00 P.M. Dec 31, 1996.

In the middle of San Francisco, on an unassuming street, in an inconspicuous curio shop, on the top floor, lying in bed wide awake (he hadn't even changed into his nightshirt yet) was an impossible creature – Carface Caruthers.

While everyone else was asleep at this hour, resting their bodies for the new year ahead of them, the pitbull / bulldog mix was just sitting at the end of his bed, staring at the dark walls of his bedroom and wrapping himself up in his thoughts. Eventually, he got tired of looking at nothing so he lit a candle and flicked on his bedside radio to try and distract himself.

"Martha's Theme" by Murray Gold begins.

The antique device should have been an enormous clue to how old its owner was. Just like the bulldog it belonged to, it was over sixty years old, exactly the kind of radio he and his old gang would listen to on quiet nights in the Bayou. In fact, the song that was on tonight sounded kind of like the smooth jazz everyone was into in his day.

Unfortunately, this only reminded him of exactly what was keeping him up tonight - his past and what it meant for him now. Or rather, what it didn't mean. God, just thinking about all this complicated moral stuff made his head hurt. Long story short, he didn't know where he belonged anymore.

His place in the universe used to be simple, a long time ago.

In the good old days, he knew he was just a small fish in a big pond, but he sure made the best of the life he had. On Saturday nights, the band would play their music loud - the dancers would swing, his customers would cheer and place their bets, and the otherwise hum-drum New Orleans life would be made a lot more exciting for everyone.

Sometimes he missed his old haunt, like he did tonight.

Instead of running a curio shop, he used to be a proud casino owner. Dogs from all over New Orleans would flock to the pier at night to bet money and be entertained. Sure another World War was being waged just across the seas, but it hadn't reached the US yet, and the country was just starting to recover from the Great Depression that had ravaged the nation for a decade. So all anyone cared about those days was having a good time (or in Carface's case, making lots of moola). He shared the place with his partner / old buddy, Charlie Barkin, and they made themselves a fortune.

But unfortunately, like most businessmen, he got greedy just when he was in his prime, and that's when he officially screwed up his life. He got his partner drunk and took him for a long walk on a short pier, so he could have the business and the profits all for himself. Not that it did him any good in the end, because not only did Charlie come back from the dead to ruin him, but he ended up sharing the same fate as the dog he betrayed. He was eaten by alligator who had a terrible singing voice (and worst of all, he never did get his revenge on that big pile of leather).

Now you'd think that after lying, stealing, kidnapping, taking advantage of an innocent girl, and killing he would have been sent straight to hell. But no, his soul was spared because of that ridiculous 'all dogs go to heaven' mantra that a certain pink angel lived by. So one minute the literal jaws of death were closing in on him, and the next he was waking up in a place full of clouds, sunshine, and halo-wearing dogs. He could see why Charlie busted out of this place, it was so nice and clean it was almost sickening.

Speaking of Charlie, he was there too, along with Ms. Superior herself, Annabelle. And he was stuck with the two of them…for all eternity. Needless to say, the next sixty years were awkward and uncomfortable for everyone.

The world beneath them grew and changed – more wars were fought, new cities were built, and man walked on the moon. Soon the planet Earth was nothing like the world he and Charlie grew up in. But while mankind moved on, they stayed the same, complaints and all.

However, while Charlie spent years whining about how bored he was, he actually came up with a plan to escape the world's nicest prison. He made a deal with a guy named Red to give him the horn of Gabriel in exchange for opening a new business and starting a brand new empire on Earth.

Worst mistake of his life. Even worse than killing Charlie.

Turns out there were two meanings to the word 'soles' (he never cared for that book smart stuff). Another long story short, he sold his soul, went to hell, and learned the hard way to never trust a cat. And if he thought heaven was bad, those white fluffy clouds of never-ending 'blah' were practically paradise compared to the other side. Still, no matter how bad life was down there, he did respect his new master, if only for one thing - the big man in red had well-earned his devilish reputation.

Luckily, he didn't spend another sixty years in the afterlife. He was freed from eternal torment by yet another whippet, Belladonna, who allowed him to run free on the Earthly domain again, if he helped her cause trouble for his old partner and his sidekick, Itchy. He leapt at the chance, and pretty soon he was back in business with his old flunky Killer (now there's an ironic name for you) again. Just like old times.

Except it wasn't like old times. He and Killer used to be feared, reviled and respected as the baddest gangsters in New Orleans. Now they were losers, laughingstocks, second-rate villains who were picked on by every satanic creature crawling out of the pit. One time he was even fooled by Charlie and Itchy in drag – yeah, that's how far they fell from grace (though he hated to admit it, but Charlie would have made an attractive woman). Not to mention they were both living life on a lease, whose end was being controlled by a psychotic maniac (he never thought he'd meet anyone nuttier than him, but this woman was crazy). But so long as he was making money and staying out of hell, he could put up with the humiliation and the life of servitude.

So when Belladonna came up with her latest and greatest plan to ruin Christmas and conquer the world, he was all for it. Until that blasted mutt Charlie and his friends got in the way, like they always did. But not in their usual way. No, they did something much worse to him than just beating him or humiliating him. They made him feel, they made him care, and they made him do something he had never done in his entire life – an act of self-sacrifice. How fitting it would happen on Alcatraz, the place of his last downfall.

His decision to set things right almost got him killed again, but apparently restored Annabelle's faith in him, as well as all dogs like him. Though maybe…she had never really lost it in the first place, just like she hadn't with Charlie all those years.

That one act of kindness was enough for her to step in and liberate him from the other side's control, making him a free man again; something he hadn't been in eons. So he fixed all the damage he had caused, made amends with Charlie and his gang, and left town to go visit the mother he had been neglecting for so long.

That was six days ago. He was back in town now, sitting in his bedroom and wondering where he was going to go next in life. He certainly wasn't on Belladonna's side anymore, that witch would fry him the next chance she got, and he hoped she never got one. But he certainly wasn't on the side of Charlie and his do-gooders either. He couldn't picture himself going around and teaching people to 'feel the love' with those bonehead angels.

So if he wasn't fighting for either side, what did that make him now? Neutral territory? Switzerland? And if so, where would he go when he'd inevitably die again (him and Charlie bit the dust so many times they were almost like cartoon characters) Heaven? Hell? Where does a killer go when he sells his soul to the Devil but then betrays him?

Those questions had kept him up every night he had spent at his old mom's place, and returning to San Francisco hadn't helped him any when it came to his peace of mind. Things were so much simpler when he was just a mob boss running a crooked casino.

Redemption was supposed to help make people's lives easier…but it didn't.

Carface was vaguely aware that the song on the radio had stopped playing (some guy he didn't care about was droning on about the late night news now) when the bedroom door creaked open, and his friend / unpaid help stuck his head through the crack. "Mr. Carface, someone's here to see you", Killer announced.

"Tell them we're closed and to beat it", the bulldog grunted.

"Um, I think you'll want to let this guy in. It's Charlie sir, he's here", the schnoodle informed him.

"What?!", Carface exclaimed, finally showing real interest. "Well don't just stand there, let him in!", he ordered.

Killer nodded, and closed the door.

Carface leapt off the side of the bed, and scowled as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Why would Charlie come here? He hadn't done anything to him…recently anyway. And why come this late at night?

The bedroom door opened again and instead of his schnoodle sidekick, a familiar German Shepherd padded in. "Carface", he noted.

"Charlie", the bulldog retorted.

"I see you bought another bed", the German Shepherd said, 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 then 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 pitbull 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 bulldog 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 bulldog 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 did our time in heaven. Spending sixty years in that fluffy torture palace really helps a guy mellow out, and put things in perspective", Charlie mumbled.

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), felt a lump appear in the back of 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 noted, indulging in some self-deprecation.

"Yeah you do", Carface agreed, and the German Shepherd 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'd 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 Shepherd hadn't known what to expect when he came in, but the bulldog 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 own. 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, hard part was over his usual confidence was already 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 some good old rivalry will do?", Carface suggested lightly.

"Exactly", Charlie agreed, grinning.

"Just don't go soft on me", Carface warned, pointing his finger at the Shepherd.

"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 bulldog 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 Shepherd happily (and somewhat 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 bulldog 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 was out cold that the pink archangel in the window showed herself, smiling in euphoria. She had been watching, unseen, the whole time.

Her eavesdropping was nothing new. She always liked to keep an eye out on her angels, and today she was glad she had. Charles had finally worked up the courage to try to bury the hatchet. This just proved that sometimes the best miracles in life were the kind that were man-made.

"Good luck Mr. Caruthers and may heaven smile you", she thought, before vanishing back to her domain and leaving the dog who saved Christmas to his destiny. Despite what Carface may have thought of himself, she had always known that he was (like everyone) a big fish in a tiny pond.

The End.

Author's Note:

Hello ADGTH fans, I'm The Cool Kat, and this was my one-shot "Metamorphosis". For 2013, I've been trying to write big, original ideas for my stories, and this was one of them. Because Carface is one of those characters who has a lot of potential in him, but is unfortunately overlooked. Mostly because fans of the first movie complain that the characters from the original (especially Charlie and Carface) have changed too much throughout the franchise. I don't see that as a bad thing, in fact I actually like their new personalities.

Even if the real cause was because of Don Bluth's exclusion from the sequel and series, it still makes sense they would change from story to story. They've been dead for sixty years people; they're not gonna be exactly the same as they were when they first bit the dust. Like Charlie said, when you've spent over half a century with the man who killed you, you learn to let go, which explains why they're so 'friendly' in the series (as for why he still listens to Carface every now and then, what can I say? Except that Charlie's an idiot sometimes). And when you're constantly dying all the time, even the most diabolical of mob bosses would turn into quaking, shivering cowards like Carface eventually did. So even though "An All Dogs Christmas Carol" wasn't my favorite story of the series (I've seen so many remakes of "A Christmas Carol" I've started to grow bored of that story), I still liked how their characters came in full circle from the first movie, and I felt that warranted its own follow-up story, even if it was just a one-shot.

It's funny, all the one-shots I've written so far are slash fics, but this one is an exception. It's purely a character piece, where nothing of interest really happens except for reflection and nostalgia. But then again, I often say there aren't enough small-scale stories on the site. Most fanfics are adventure stories or creations where characters have sex (I like both of these genres), but there are hardly any that stop and really examine character. That having been said, I'm glad I could make my contribution to ADGTH archive. This story doesn't fill in any of the gaps in ADGTH history, like how Killer joined Carface again, how Sasha owned a café, or even how Carface's mother could still be alive after sixty years, but it does give you a nice good look inside Carface's thoughts. On a side-note, Carface being called 'an impossible creature' is a nod to Captain Jack Harkness, the 'impossible man' who cannot die.

Bookending the fic is "Martha's Theme" and it's variant "Martha Triumphant", both composed by the amazing Murray Gold, and the former sung by Melanie Pappenheim. Martha Jones' jazzy waltz was easy-listening while I was writing Carface's 30s nostalgia (it does sound quite old fashioned, and there's a heavenly feel to it as well, especially when the back-up vocals join Ms. Pappenheim midway in), and "Martha Triumphant" really helped me envision Charlie giving Carface some kind of inner peace. So whether you're a fan of jazz or not, I recommend you check them both out on YouTube (you just might like them).

So don't be shy (or lazy), let me know what you thought of this one-shot. A writer is nothing without feedback, be it positive or negative.