Chapter 3: Five Little Kittens

"Oh my goodness! They're darling!" Ceridwen exclaimed as she looked down at the bundle of five kittens lying against their mother. Dwight had made a makeshift bed for the queen and kittens out of one of his drawers and his long, billowing cape. Ceridwen was impressed with the sacrifice on his part and was also relieved to think that the cape would no longer be a permanent part of his ensemble. Without the cape, cravat, jacket, and vest, Dwight looked like he belonged in a portrait from the Victorian era. The mother cat, a solid black and very healthy looking one at that, looked sleepy after being fed for what everyone guessed was the first time in days. "How on earth did she get into that part of the basement? It was sealed shut."

"There was a small trap door that father installed years ago. His motto was to always be prepared for every eventuality and he was pyrophobic," Dwight said. He looked down proudly at the tiny young family. "Is it normal for them to look so... hairless?"

"You never had a cat growing up?" Ceridwen asked confusedly.

"Actually, mother kept Pomeranians and I was not allowed to have any other animal lest it should eat them." Dwight shuddered at the memory. "They were like loud, smelly, little yettis."

Ceridwen stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. "I'm guessing from your reaction and the history you've had with things that have upset you, you made their lives as miserable as they made yours?"

"I didn't say they made my life miserable," Dwight corrected quickly. He smiled. "They were mother's prized possessions." Ceridwen smiled slightly. "That's why it made her life miserable when I shaved both of them bald."

Ceridwen frowned and rolled her eyes. She was getting the impression that had Jeremy and Dwight met in their younger days, they would have been inseperable, unstoppable, and unbearable. She sighed and stared down at the small family laying here in the basement. "I'm not sure the best place for them is down here. It's so damp and cool," She said with concern. She turned to Dwight, suddenly realizing something that should have been obvious to her several hours ago. "This was the house you were raised in!"

Dwight stared at her in confusion after the outburst and nodded slowly. He looked back down at the cat and her young with vain regret. That cape had been his for some five years and he'd grown attached to it. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to wear it again even if it were cleaned thoroughly. The primal part of himself that usually spoke only when he needed to feed or flee was laughing almost audibly at him for helping a stupid cat. Of course, for the past few years since he had been transformed, the primal part of him had been doing most of the speaking. It was rare, since Dwight was unaware of how to properly feed or live and was truly hoping to find a way to end this exsistance, that the man had an opportunity to hold conversations or even do simple activities like enjoying sights, smells, and sounds. The eastern belief that one had to be in tune with things to really be happy had become something violently obvious to the vampire, who was far from in tune at the moment, but closer than he had been in decades. His mind raced at the thought that someday he would be able to enjoy things once more. At the moment, he couldn't even enjoy the basic freedom of being able to go where he pleased when he wanted to. His plane, his most prized posession, was kept from him as well. How much more information did he really need here, to satisfy his curiosities? More importantly, how would he be able to convince Ceridwen and the others that they could trust him enough for him to make a clean escape?

Break a few necks and head for the hangar, his primal side told him at the reminder that he was essentially a prisoner here. He pushed that out of his mind. He had enjoyed being able to think more clearly now that he fed regularly, slept regularly, and had human contact as regularly as someone in his position could. If it weren't for the sole fact that his freedom was taken away from him, then the set up would actually be quite comfortable. He pushed that thought aside as well. He couldn't allow himself to get too comfortable or enraged. The chip in the back of his brain had not activated fully in months, but during times when he had been furious with Jeremy it had made him very nauseated. He didn't know if this was in place of pain, or just a physical reaction that was due to his body acclimating. It didn't matter. Nausea was far less easy to handle than pain. It was one thing for Ceridwen to have come in on him writhing in pain during the electrical storm, but he truly did not want anyone seeing him kneeling on the floor, vomiting. He couldn't allow instinct to get the better of him to the point that he had a fleet of vampire-killers after him no matter where he went, but he certainly couldn't endure months more of the insanity of being kept in the mansion all day night every night.

"Ceridwen?" Dwight asked carefully. She looked up at him. The 24-hour allergy relief she had taken before coming down to the cellar with him gave her eyes the same colour and energy he had seen over the past few months and come to enjoy perhaps more than he enjoyed being able to reason again. He focused and tried to hide any emotion or intentions from Ceridwen's penatrative gaze. Somehow he just knew that she was able to see into his mind even while they were wide awake. "How long will it be before I can go again?"

Ceridwen frowned. Dwight had been absoloutely correct in his assessment of her eyes. She knew that Dwight had no intention of reforming at the moment, that he would leave the mansion with the intent to only kill worthy people now that he thought more clearly, and that he was feeling as trapped as a small animal in a cage. Despite this, Ceridwen had seen the hatred in his eyes diminish into rage and the rage die down into anger. This was something that she hadn't been sure was possible when beginning this project. She believed fully that everyone deserved a second chance and had gathered from Dwight's patterns that he was not a heartless, mindless, murderer. Now she had been proven correct, but Dwight was starting to feel impatient at the sudden lack in activity on his part. She hadn't discussed the fact that this might happen with herself when going through all of the eventualities that she would encounter as head of the team.

"Is something bothering you, Dwight?" she asked softly, looking deeply into his eyes. Dwight frowned.

"Only that I have no way of knowing how well I'm doing or how much progress I'm making," he said, trying to make himself sound like he was truly concerned with reforming and not with just knowledge and freedom. He wasn't a bad person, she knew this, but in his mind some humans simply needed to die. That wasn't just his view, either, nature had done a wonderful job of trying to show humanity that over millenia. "What do I need to do to be cured?"

Ceridwen frowned more and looked away, almost hurt at what he had said. She stood, slowly, and took both of his hands in hers. She looked up at him as if she were about to tell him something terrible that even he had yet to experience.

"Dwight, there is no cure. The purpose of my being here, of everyone's being here, is to teach you how to adapt to what you will be facing for another four or five centuries," Ceridwen said cautiously. Dwight stared back, unmoved by her statement. This only furthered her suspicion that Dwight was playing along enough to get by, but was not interested in true change. He was a free-spirit even as a human boy. Ceridwen did not want to see anyone 'broken' in spirit no matter what the reason. Still, if she couldn't get Dwight to see reason, then he would never really be free at all. He would always be escaping from something or someone. She looked to the side. "Perhaps you and I will talk more about this later."

"I want to know, Ceridwen. How long do I have to be here?" he said more firmly. Ceridwen turned and stared harshly at him. She was in no mood for anger or an argument, but she was going to have the subject left her way.

"Adaptation is subjective to an individual's strengths and decisions, Dwight." Ceridwen often tried to use phrases that sounded like they came straight from a biology textbook when she was going to end a less pleasant conversation with him. "It could be anywhere from months to several years."

"Several years?" Dwight choked. Ceridwen turned and headed back up the stairwell. She was done with the discussion, but Dwight had not at all recieved something close to what he had wanted. Was Ceridwen saying that he could be here long after she left? He frowned. He couldn't stand being caged for several more months let alone several years. He sighed and headed up the stairs. The sun was beginning to rise. He could feel the atmospheric pressure change as the hours outside revealed the morning. He looked down once more at the cat, making sure that the kittens would be warm enough next to their mother. Mothers knew more than anyone usually gave them credit for. There were many places down here that the cat would have allowed as a nest, so she knew which would ensure the survival of her young. He took hold of the railing and began to climb the stairs. He needed to think about what lay ahead for him. He needed to talk at greater length with Ceridwen. The girl would not allow him any further conversing about the subject until nightfall, but he could at least corner her about it in their dreams. He walked silently into his room and closed the door tightly. If nothing else, he enjoyed being able to dream again.