It was raining. Streets were flooding. Dry leaves, empty hamburger wrappers, cigarette stubs and whatnot were drifting on a surface of the most foul looking water. Adam squared his shoulders and ducked his head low. He was drenched to the core. Maybe it was time to go home. Even demons weren't stupid enough to get out in this storm. They liked their little luxuries. Clean and neat apartments, floors polished marble. Fireplace in every room. Bearskin rug in front of each and every one of them. Two-point-five kids with trophy-wives, nine-to-five jobs in comfortable top floor offices. Demons today... They were getting soft.

Adam kicked at an empty soda can. It skipped along on the sidewalk, bouncing here and there untill it disappeared to a side alley. His shoes were full of water. Every step he took made it swishing and sloshing around his toes. Not completely unpleasant feeling, but something he could have gone without. He decided to follow the soda can. Alley would have a dumpster to sit on while he poured water out of his shoes. Up to this day he hadn't seen an alley without one, and he had seen many alleys. This one didn't disappoint him.

It was big and green. Just the right height for him to sit on. He sat on it and started unlacing his boots when he suddenly heard a noise. He stopped to listen. Only water. Heavy torrent pelting down on him. Flowing down his front and back, dribbling down his legs, ending up in to his shoes, eventually. But for a moment he could be more comfortable. He pulled of his left boot, emptied it, and was about to pull it back on when he heard the noise again. It came from deep shadows at the end of the alley. Streetlight there was broken, so he could only make out an outline of a small cardboard box on the ground. He tilted his head. Too small to house a demon. Too small to be anything but less important.

While he emptied his right boot he kept listening. Noise was louder now. And the box was moving. Something was in there, trying to get out. When he approached the box he finally recognised the sound it made, and knew what he would find if he opened it.

He stopped. Box lay at his feet, and the noise was constant now. Occupant of the box was clearly aware of his presence. He shuffled his feet and scanned his surroundings. He was alone. In this weather nobody was outside. He sniffled a bit and nudged the box gently with the tip of his boot. Noise got louder, and box began rocking and trashing around. It was sealed shut with duct tape.

He could walk away and leave the box. It wouldn't be moving in the morning anymore. He could pick it up now and chuck it in to the dumpster. With any luck trash collector would find it. He could step on it and it really wouldn't be moving anymore.

He kept watching the box, pondering all the possible approaches. Water was dribbling down his forehead in to his eyes. He wiped it back. Then crouched and jabbed the box with his index finger. Cardboard was soaked through. It would probably dissolve before morning, and occupant would be set free. If it was alive, of course.

He took in his surroundings once more. He was truly alone in this. Not even hookers bothered to patrol in this weather. Well, they wouldn't be very useful in the current situation anyway, unless you happened to stumble in on one with a heart of gold. And that kind of hookers simply didn't exist outside Hollywood.

He wiped his face with his palm once more, then grabbed the box. It was a bit heavier than he expected. He carried it to the dumpster and put it down on top of it. Occupant of the box went berserk. Box fell, and did what all soaked cardboard boxes do when they fall; it exploded. He backed away half a step when small grey puppy stumbled out from the wreckage. Only one alive from a litter of five. It took few hesitant steps before falling on it's side in to a puddle. The're it lay, getting wetter by every passing second.

When it looked like the show was over, Adam crouched and picked up the puppy, intending to throw it in to trash with its dead siblings. When a faint heartbeat registered through his glove he stuffed the dog to his breast pocket instead. His clothes were wet, but warm. He could get rid of the body later if the puppy died.

Back at the street he found a small all-night diner. He still had few coins left from his last kill. He could get more as soon as he found a demon. They usually carried thick wallets.

Middle-aged woman behind the counter gave him a stink-eye when he sloshed in, leaving puddles of muddy water at his wake. Adam caught a glimpse of himself from gleaming side of the coffeemaker. He couldn't blame the lady. He really was a mess. Clothes hung on him all lopsided and crinkled. His hair was sticking out to every possible direction except from places where the rain had plastered it against his skull. Faint red and grey net of scars glimmered on his face in the harsh neonlight.

"Cup of warm milk. Cup of beef soup. A towel," he grunted his order, then spied the name of the lady from a tag attached above her quite grandmotherly breasts.

"...Mabel, please," he finished ordering. Lady clucked her tongue, grabbed a dish towel from underneath the counter and handed it to him.

"That one is for free. For the rest of your order I need to see some money first," she said. Adam fished the coins from his pocket and placed them on to the counter. Mabel counted them.

"This will get you warm milk and some chicken broth. No beef soup." Adam nodded. Beggars can't be choosers.

He left the counter and hid in to the furthest booth. He couldn't risk Mabel seeing the mutt. Dogs weren't allowed in here. He spread the towel on to the bench next to him and took out the puppy. It was nearly unconscious, but it had the strength to lick his finger once when he tried to dab it dry. Anger rose in him. Somewhere there was somebody who had the balls to discard a living being like it was common trash.

When he heard the kitchen door slamming and footsteps approaching he hid the puppy back in to his pocket, picked up the towel and started patting his face dry.

"Warm milk and chicken broth. Eat fast, I'll be closing soon," Mabel said and clunked a tall glass of milk and a bowl of broth in front of him. Adam resisted the urge to point out that this was an all-night diner, and thanked her instead silently, promising to leave soon. Mabel left him when door chime announced the arrival of another customer.

Adam pulled the puppy out again. He set it on the table next to soup bowl. Dog looked at the bowl, then Adam, then bowl again and whined softly. Too small to eat on it's own, but hungry as hell, Adam realized. He dipped his finger in to soup and let the puppy lick it clean. He dipped his finger in to milk and the puppy was all but happy to clean him up again. But it was taking too long. Soon Mabel would start to wonder why a drifter was taking his sweet time with a bowl of second grade broth and yesterday's milk. He poured some of the broth on to his palm and held it under the puppy's mouth, hoping it would catch his meaning. It didn't, but kept licking at his fingers instead. And it was beginning to get noisy again.

"Hmph. I knew you were up to something," Mabel huffed, her shadow landing over Adam and the puppy. Before Adam could hide the puppy again, Mabel reached for it, lifting it up in the air for inspection.

"It's too small. It should be with the mother still. Where did you get it?" She then asked, hint of ice in her voice.

"Found them from an alley. There were five of them. That was only one still alive," Adam said, hating none too veiled accusation in Mabel's voice. Mabel blinked, twice. Corrected the position of her glasses on top of her nose and looked at him. Really looked at him.

"Those were your last quarters? ... Those were your last quarters..." For a long moment she just stood there, staring and evaluating him. Adam was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Look, Mabel... Just give the dog back and I'll leave. I won't be bothering you anymore, okay?" He held his head bowed and his hand out.

"I'll buy it from you. I'll give you fifty dollars for it. I have a granddaughter and this little rascal will get a good home from her," Mabel said, elicting a confused grunt from Adam. He expected to see mischievous grin on Mabel's face when he turned to look at her, but she was serious. And holding out a fifty-dollar bill. There was strange warmth in her eyes, and a small glimmering hint of tears.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you. It has been a long night, and just before you came in I had to throw out some hooligans. I thought you were with them. Just take the money. You look like you could really use it," Mabel said. Adam shook his head.

"I'll be alright, Mabel. Just take care of the little guy. I'm... I'll be leavingnow..." He stuttered and basically fled from the diner.

It was still raining. He didn't care. Gurgling and sloshing of the water made it difficult to hear strange noises from dingy alleys on his way home.