Alantie

He steps into the dark alley, everything is trimmed in silver of the moonlight. His shape silently slides along the cold wet walls. It smells cold and harsh, and his scent blends right in. The vampire stoops down, examining a dark red puddle on the asphalt, his huge ring-studded fingers touching it lightly. Raising them to his nose he sniffs lightly, and looks up, a look of concern flashing over his face. The dark eyebrows are low on his penetrating eyes, and his long lips are frowning into the night. The blood was cold, but it smelled of a woman whom he knew, cherished, and loved.
"Buffy." he whispered, standing again. His pace picked up, and his black coat swept back from his legs as he jogged down the streets to her home. He approached the glowing home cautiously, sniffing for the smell of her blood. She was near, but not inside, he could smell her presence and it felt weak. Something was dreadfully wrong with her. A tiny form in the bushes stirred slightly, and a long slender leg was protruding from their cover. The huge man ran to it and dove into the foliage, picking up her tiny form and pulling her out into the lawn.
"Buffy, oh my god." There was a large crimson gash from shoulder to shoulder right across her chest, as if someone tried to decapitate her a few inches lower than supposed to. Hot scarlet blood was pouring from it, running down her arms and down her chest in between her breasts. Angel tore off his coat and pressed it to the wound.
"I...didn't...win...for once." she panted at him, her eyes blinking slowly as she wandered between consousness and sleep "...I fell into...the..bushes...on..my way...in..side." The dark man didn't answer her, but touched her lips, urging her silently to be quiet. The coat was full of blood already and he tossed it onto the lawn, and pulled off his sweater and teeshirt and using them as bandages.
"We have to get you inside, now, Buffy. We have to get you to the hospital." He put his broad strong arms under her and pulled her against his bare muscular chest, carrying her delicatly into the house. She struggled against him.
"No...Angel...I'm fine...let...me...walk..." she murmered, her nails digging into him. He groaned. Slayer strength, even if its weak, always hurt a vampire. He layed her body on the couch, and ran to get the first aid kit she had used for him so long before. By the time he returned she was already sleeping, and the blood had slowed to barely none. A long scab across her shoulders began to dry. Angel binded the wound with gauze and tape carefully, so gently so not to wake her. When he was done he leaned agains the sofa, sitting on the floor, his huge hands combing through his thick hair, worried. He sighed and glanced over at her. Her blood smelled so good, but he didn't have a desire to drink it...just an intense desire to savor it, protect it, harness it into her body. It was her power and her strength, and that was why he loved its smell....
 
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