Ethan's POV

When Aro gave me the assignment of teaching the newborn, I hadn't a clue what to expect. Normally this task would go to one of the Upper Guard or anyone who has been here for a very long time and is more experienced with everything that goes on. I guess you could say that two thousand years qualifies for being "old", but I wouldn't trust any other vampire aged nineteen years to get the job done right. From the top of the hierarchical pyramid, the fighters would typically go to Felix, the scouts and watch with Alec, the messengers and errand-runners with Demetri, and the domestics with me. Patches, Aro judged, would be best suited to become a caretaker of the castle, and it was my duty to see that he did.

In the sparring room, I started him out with the basics: kicking, punching, and blocking. He didn't seem like the martial arts or wrestling type, which would be too advanced for him anyway. I stood off to the sidelines in front of the stone steps that served as bleachers, evaluating his stance and power with a critical eye. From the shy way he held his arms at his sides and the nervous look on his face, both areas were nonexistent. "It's just a standard mannequin; punch it!" I asserted. He shot me this worried glance and turned back to the dummy, taking another moment to wrap his mind around the idea.

"I-I can't," he whispered back, hanging his head. Something told me he was dealing with more of an emotional boundary than a physical one.

I strode over to him to ask him what was wrong, but instead I asked, "What are you doing?" As I progressed towards him, he regressed away from me.

"I-I don't want you to hurt m-me," he stuttered, crossing his arms protectively over his face.

"And why would I ever do that?" I inquired calmly. His answer was automatic.

"B-Because I didn't do wh-what you asked me to."

FLASHBACK…

The shrill sound of pierced cries vibrated the strong walls of an underground fortress in the middle of scenic nowhere. There was more shouting from the men upstairs, proceeded by more glass-shattering screams. "Why didn't I stop her from running away?" Patches moaned to himself with his face in his hands. If he just intervened, then that poor girl wouldn't be getting her ankles blade-marked for trying to escape. The men here were brutal, their leader—rightfully named "Bruno"—was the most sadistic-minded being on earth. He meant business, of course, but only with dirty money: a child-smuggling ring where children were stolen away to be sold off to whoever had the money. Of all of the minors that passed through this Hell, Patches was the undesirable, the white elephant who could never be sold. Bruno saw to this and appointed him the caretaker of his prisoners as well as his personal lapdog, for any major deformity was a sign of the lesser human beings in his eyes. He melded a silver collar around the boy's neck and claimed him as his property to do with as he liked, shaping him into a well-disciplined puppy-child with no self-respect to his animalistic name.

Patches shook the blame from his mind and crawled miserably to the cellar where the children of today's catch would most likely require his medical attention. He opened the door just a crack when a chilling hissing noise answered to his arrival. There in the dim light slithered a medium sized yellow forest snake, flicking its forked tongue in his direction. The captivated children were paralyzed with fear, having nothing to defend themselves with. He joined them as a tall shadow loomed overhead. "You know what to do," Bruno stated in his cold, grave voice. "Kill it." Patches heard him, but couldn't move any closer to it. Snakes were his worst phobia. "Kill it!" Bruno ordered again, this time more aggressively.

The boy's face fell; he hated when Bruno did this to him—commanding him to push himself to the brink of insanity to test him, or for a few laughs. He looked at the snake's scaly form again and his body began to tremble, already accepting his fate. "I-I-I c-can't."

"Alright, let's go," the man whispered with a forced calmness. He seized the boy's collar and dragged him down the cemented halls to the punishment room, ignoring his whimpers of terrified protest. The room was usually kept pitch black save for a couple of candles near the front. Various instruments of torture and restraint were decked on the right wall, and Patches had come in acquaintance with nearly every one. Bruno pulled his wrists toward the metal post on the far left corner, locking him in the tight shackles purposely modified for children. "Hmm, what to do with you today…" he mused. "Disobedience, talking back—this is your third offense, I believe." Patches swallowed what little saliva was in his mouth, already calculating how much he was going to suffer. He averted his eyes to the wall, afraid of what was in store. His breaths ran heavy, his shoulders tensing as the smooth, teasing tail of a bullwhip was draped lightly over his back.

"First, the disobedience." With one hand, his whip coiled loosely in the other, he pulled the boy's shirt up over his head, down his arms, and over the metal post. The crisscross slashes and scars from previous punishments prickled his skin as the cool air hit it, the scabbed splotches begging him to let them heal. In a flash, a streak of red made its mark with a smarting sting. Patches clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing for death or a magical blue fairy to take him away. One by one, the scabs reopened, leaking their bodily juices on the flecked stone floor. It wasn't long before he lost his strength and gave in; he always gave in. He let out a long howl of agony as the tears began to well up in his large eyes and fall to join the small pools of blood. It took everything he had to remain on his feet, for falling unconscious was "cheating" and resulted in a longer, more excruciating session right afterwards. When Bruno deemed he had enough, he remained shaking uncontrollably, his head bent over his hands in resigned misery.

"Now, to take care of your backtalk." Bruno grabbed a fistful of his hair and wretched his mouth open, lodging a ball gag a little over an inch in diameter behind his teeth and over his tongue. The thin leather straps were pulled tightly behind his head, locking in place with a small click of a lock. The stitches stretching the left side of his lips throbbed terribly, for his mouth could only open so wide. "I think twenty minutes is reasonable enough," said the man, looking the helpless boy over with satisfaction. He walked out the door, taking care to blow out the candles and leave him in total darkness. One of his thug minions whispered something to him as he was about to close the door. "Oh, and one more thing," he smirked, eying the boy's wide eyes. He threw the thick, yellow snake inside the dungeon, alive and enraged as it flew to the left corner, laughing cruelly at the boy's beyond petrified face as he shut out the light.

END FLASHBACK…

Ethan's POV

"Patches, I'm not going to do any such thing." He still looked doubtful. "Really, it's okay. We can return to this later." He lowered his hands, which I hoped was definite progress.

"O-Okay, Ethan." I tried to guess what his life was like before his turning though I didn't ask. He was completely pale as pale gets, even by vampire standards. If it wasn't for his reddish hair, he could've easily passed for albino. He didn't look like he spent one good day in the sun, wherever he lived.

"Would you like to see the garden?" His eyes lit up. "It's not much, but it makes for a lovely peaceful spot."

"I'd like that." Smiling, I took his hand and was pleased to feel his palm willingly pressing against mine. Still, the way he trailed behind me instead of next to me raised the question of whether or not he trusted me to take care of him. I showed him the back door leading into the garden and released his hand so he could explore. The tall walls surrounding the castle made it impossible for humans to see into except for above. It wasn't likely that a plane would venture over Volterra so I could care less about shielding ourselves from the sun. He face relaxed in wonder as his gaze roamed through the blossoming trees, the plethora of flowers bursting from every patch of soil, the shrubberies, and the cobblestone pathways leading to the marble bench under a shady spot.

"What do you think, eh?"

"It's beautiful!" he exclaimed with an awed smile. He reached down to touch a Bird of Paradise flower and looked up. "C-Can I?"

"Of course. It's yours now too, isn't it?" He grinned and petted the petals with a finger. He reminded me of a small child stroking a tiny kitty cat. Which reminds me… "Patches, do you remember what I said about me showing you my power?" he looked at me over his shoulder and nodded.

"Yeah. After I showed you mine, right?" I shrugged with indifference.

"I was hoping I could show you now, if that's fine with you." He rose with anticipation.

"Sure!" We walked to the marble bench and I sat him down.

"Promise me you won't freak okay?" I said with a guarded half smile.

"I promise," he said softly, resting his hands in his lap. I stepped back and took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I felt myself melt and shrink, morph and change into my being of choice: a fluffy white kitty cat.

"Mrroow?" I called out to him, peeking my furry head from under my clothes. His jaw dropped in astonishment, amazed beyond words.

"E-Ethan? H-How did you—is that really you?"

"Mmm-Mrroooow!" I replied in the affirmative, swishing my tail proudly. I walked out of my shirt and jumped on the bench beside him, smiling through my blue-grey eyes. He slid to his corner and turned away as if he was afraid of being too close. I expected him to pet me, but that was obviously not going to happen. Perhaps showing him my power this early was a bit abrupt? I leapt off and set myself in my clothes before changing back so that he wouldn't be uncomfortable. "Are you alright, Patches? I know my power can sometimes be a bit overwhelming to others." He said nothing, his eyes still looking into the distance. "Being a shape shifter has some great benefits to it though, mostly for disguise and undercover work. I personally like to entertain with it; I even managed to transform into a full chimera once." Still, neither a word nor a glance came from his direction. I touched his arm. "Patches?"

He finally locked eyes with me, his voice filled with wonder. "How did you know that I love cats?"

A Special Note from CityCat: Thank you to all my reviewers who have stayed true to this story thus far! I call this the boiling point chapter because it's going to get hot with action from here on in. A special mention goes out to my friend Nelly, who originally created Ethan. Thanks for reading!