DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

When Edward Cullen awoke from troubled dreams, he found that his hand was hairier than it had been. If it came to semantics, he would even describe it as furry.

An enormous headache seemed to have taken residence in his head, which was ridiculous, because vampires didn't get headaches. His hand couldn't be furry or even look like a paw; and moreover, Edward Cullen couldn't have woken up, because guess what? He couldn't sleep.

Yet, in a strange joke with played on him by greater forces, all of the above had happened, and as if he were contractually bound to the ridicule, when Edward Cullen tried to get up, if found that his height while lying on the floor had nothing to envy on his height while he stood. Also, he found that his whole body was covered in this strange orange fur, and that he was no longer a biped.

Though his mind was still clouded, Edward Cullen tried to think methodically, when he saw, in the reflective glass of a washing machine that happened to be in front of him, that a single, straight appendage, like the end of a lightning bolt, had been fixed on his derrière and was pointing towards the sky as if to remind of the fury of a past god…

Full realization of what he had become came to him then.

Isabella Swan was carrying an empty laundry basket back to her room when she heard an—inhuman –wail, coming from the laundry room. In the past month or so that she had spent back in Forks with her father, she had never heard such a sound from the capricious washing machine, though she knew it well by now. Thinking it could mean nothing but a bad omen, she abandoned the basket on the ground, and rushed downstairs to reach the laundry room. She flung the door open, only to find an animal, wildly disorientated, subject her to its intelligent gaze.

She was surprised, yet the machine seemed to do its normal rumbling spinning, so she was relieved. Bella got on her knees to greet the animal:

"And who are you?" she asked, reaching carefully for the cat. It seemed reluctant to come near her, and his eyes, still fixed on her, seemed shy and afraid.

But then, the strangest thing happened.

In Edward's defense, it has to be said that he wasn't all himself, pun intended, on that fine morning. And that stranger's hand, reaching for him, was perceived as a threat because of its sheer size—really, it could enclose his whole head! But then, the sweetest fragrance—a promise of heaven—reached his new nostrils. Without further ado, his body went into a predatory mode and it jumped towards the outstretched hand with a single aim—to bite and draw out the sweetest of nectars.

Fortunately, Isabella saw the coiling of the cat's body, and was able to move out of the way before the cat had a chance to hurt her. The cat jumped nevertheless, and missed, as she made a dash for the door. As Bella closed it, she heard the unmistakable sound of a collision with the door—the cat had again projected itself at her pursuit.

Edward Cullen had now a scalding pain on his face to add to the pain in his mind, but he recovered minimally from both. He was quickly ashamed of himself, for he recognized that he had attacked a human. The futility of this attempt was not lost on him. When before, his enemies' chance at surviving were inexistent, his chances at overpowering the human girl were close to zero too.

He began to think. First, of where he was; his surroundings were indicative enough that he could deduct he was in a human's house. Then, he searched for a way back. But there was not the smallest hint of how he got here—this room was filled with old boxes, shelves of forgotten tokens. The means to the outside world were a small window, and the door—and both were closed.

But even if he could get outside—he had no idea where he was! And this new, feeble body would not carry him through great distances. All he could hope was for Alice to somehow perceive him with her gift, and his family would rescue him. He snorted—a strange sound for a cat—because his family could not rescue him out of a cat's body.

Edward decided to check the window, in case it could show him familiar settings. It was high up on the wall, but the laundry machine was placed just so that if he managed to lean forward, he would see the outside…

He prepared to jump, and had a straying thought of the small animals he had mocked that same morning—how ironic now that all superiority was now lost for him. He got first on a cardboard box, removing a fine layer of dust that covered the grand "Xmas" sign handwritten on it. His nostrils were bothered by the swirling dust, and he jumped quickly on the washing machine. Such a leap was no small fit—he had planned to have had to jump onto several different boxes, yet he found that his body moved lithely, with a grace that he was surprised of. Edward got his front paws on the wall, and stood precariously, unbalanced on his hind legs, so that his head may reach the level of the window.

What he saw was neither a great disappointment nor a great relief. He didn't know the setting exactly, but the vehicle he saw was undoubtedly an old American model, a Chevy. There was a road in the distance—and the edge of a forest that reminded him of the Olympic forest he had once roamed. The overcast sky, in all its glory, reminded him of that past stay in the little town of Forks. A stray beam of sunlight passed through the layers of clouds and blinded him. Edward suddenly realized that he may have another problem, but as he raised his paw slightly, he realized the gods had mercy and didn't ridicule him further: his furry paw did not sparkle in the sunlight.

Checking he had seen all that there was to see, Edward dropped back on his four legs. Still unsure of his agility in this body, he then jumped in the full laundry basket on the side of the washing machine to soften his fall.

And then, the heady scent reached him again. The clothes beneath him were partly hers, that was for sure. His head was buried in the stack of dirty clothes in a millisecond, and he breathed in deeply. However, he realized what he was doing, and his head lolled back high in the air just as quickly. Damn it, he didn't need any god to ridicule him—he just proved he could do a fine job by himself!

Glad that no one could have witness his moment of humiliation, Edward thought that the fragrance that came from the pile could very well save him from himself. The small dose of her scent would desensitize him. And from this vantage point, he could see anyone that tried to get into the room, as well as appear very non-threatening: several stray boxes lay in his path to the door, and would hinder a dash towards anyone trying to come in. Edward also realized that this put him in a position of inferiority, but wasn't he already inferior? From now on, he would depend on the kindness of strangers.

And something just told him that this adolescent girl that had wanted to make his acquaintance, not thirty minutes before, was kind.

A/N: Did anybody catch the reference, in the very first line of this chapter? It's translated from Russian. So, it kind of depends on the translation you get, but…

There's also another reference, this time towards the end, to a great piece of American theatre… Let's see if someone finds it!

As usual, I hope you enjoyed, and I'm going to keep things light and fun, and also shamelessly flirt with you in order to have feedback.