Title: Guardian Angel.

Rating: T / PG-13.

Warnings: Hints of violence.

Prompt: Written for Twilight-Tables at Livejournal. List #15, Prompt #01: Protégé Moi.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations from The Twilight Series are properties of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Company. No copyright infringement intended.

Guardian Angel

oOo

"Personally I don't see what the fuss is all about, Dr. Cullen. What's so special about that woman, anyway?" The man shrugged and wiped his oily hands on his apron before plunging them back into the bucket, producing another fish that was flung on the counter with flourish, making Carlisle wince at the smell.

"The Mona Lisa is not a woman, Mr. Nancy," Carlisle clarified. "It's a painting and its loss is a great blow to the Louvre."

Nancy, the merchant, shrugged. "So you're telling me all this hustle and bustle is about a picture the French lost? They've got dozens more!" He snorted, obviously incapable of seeing their point.

"But the Mona Lisa is one of a kind. It's a -," Carlisle explained patiently, then – upon seeing the blank look on Nancy's face reconsidered. "Never mind. How is your back? Is it still hurting you?"

Nancy's face broke into a mournful expression. "Ah, it's killing me, good Sir and my now not even my wife – God bless her soul! – is here to help me and my no-good delinquent son isn't too much of a help either."

Carlisle nodded in understanding. It had been almost two-hundred years ago that the vampire left Europe in hopes of finding others of his kind on the shores of the New World and it had been almost a year that his travels had brought him to the city of Chicago where he'd started working shifts in the hospital.

It was now August 1911: Great Britain had just celebrated the crowning of King George V with festivities that lasted a whole week, Mr. A.F. Wilding and Miss M. Lambert Chambers had recently won the great tennis competition of Wimbledon, the Mona Lisa had been stolen from the Louvre and since a few short days ago the gentlemen of Chicago had been feverishly discussing the news that France and Germany declared war (only to learn a little later that the news had been fake), though the tension definitely still ran high.

The summer of 1911 was warm and sweltering and though lately the sun had been hidden under a layer of clouds that fact had done nothing against the heat. With the high temperatures came the smell, making people even more testy than usual and Carlisle found himself wishing more often than not for a thorough bout of rain to wash away the dirt and the temper that was bubbling beneath the surface.

oOo

Mr. Nancy sighed and wiped his sweaty brow with a dirty hand. "Looks like rain, doesn't it, Dr. Cullen?"

Carlisle nodded and smiled as he'd done the previous weeks. "We'll see, Mr. Nancy," he would answer every time before continuing on his way across the great market until he came to the quiet little street where he'd taken up residence.

Today, however, Carlisle's usual comment was intercepted when something small and fast crashed right into him.

"Ow!" a young voice yelped, more in surprise than actual pain, Carlisle suspected as he bent down to examine his "attacker". Mr. Nancy leaned over the counter, brandishing a fish as if holding a medieval broadsword.

"You, boy!" the merchant bellowed, "Watch where you're going."

The boy's head whipped around and with remarkable speed (for a human) that little wisp of a child scrambled back onto its feet, looking like it was about shoot a snappy retort at Nancy but then he froze instead.

"'Ey! Masen!" a loud voice suddenly called and the boy's bronze-haired head turned into the direction to the shout. "We'll get you this time, you brat!"

Sticking out his bottom lip in a curious mixture between a pout and an expression of supreme defiance the boy, Masen, ducked under the arms of Nancy, his dazzling green eyes darting in every direction, taking in and discarding possible means of escape within moments as his pursuers approached.

Carlisle's protective instincts flared with unexpected intensity. Three against one – that was more than unfair (especially considering the fact that the Masen-boy was a bit on the scrawny side and certainly no match for any of his attackers). And indeed, the child backed away, eyes wide and fearful until his hand came to rest next to a board that held up the fragile construction the was the adjourning stand.

"Nowhere to run now, Edward," one of the pursuers, a burly boy wearing an expensive looking sailor's suit (as it was very fashionable in 1911), said, his eyes glinting dangerously. Carlisle lowered his eyes for a moment, sad to see that things really didn't change after all. As it had been from the beginning of time the stronger preyed on the weaker. 'At least,' Carlisle thought with grim determination as he moved in front of Edward, 'at least they did unless the weaker one was protected.'

"Now listen, you boys-" He started but found himself being interrupted by the very boy he tried to protect.

"Hey Billy," Edward grinned, suddenly mischievous. "Too bad you dad can't buy you any brains."

Billy's eyes widened in confusion but before any of them (with the notable exception of Carlisle, of course) had a chance to react Edward gave the board a hearty tug, making the stand (and all the lettuce that were piled up neatly on its counter) topple down and nearly bury Billy and his friends (as well as Mr. Nancy who barely managed to dive behind his own stand and avoid being swept away on a tidal wave of lettuce).

Grinning, Edward gave chase as old and toothless Mrs. Penbrickle – the infuriated owner of the lettuce stand – shot out from behind the counter and – being unable to catch a hold of Edward, who was too quick to be caught – descended upon the unhappy Billy instead.

oOo

Carlisle grinned, amused despite himself. It looked like this victim wasn't too much of a victim, after all, he thought as he watched the boy's quickly retreating figure zigzagging across the market and finally vanish into a dark alley. Then Carlisle's insides turned to ice. He knew what that particular alley was home to and he knew for a fact that the inhabitants of that alley did not even remotely share his scruples about their diet.

Turning even paler than he usually was, Carlisle dropped the board he'd been holding, turned around wordlessly and ran, a cold feeling of anxiety making him shiver. Out of all the places the kid could have run to – why did it have to be this one? He had, of course, heard of people who were regular trouble magnets but Mr. Edward Masen seemed to possess the rather unique talent of finding trouble instead of attracting it.

Swearing under his breath Carlisle picked up his pace – ever so careful not to blow his cover – but definitely abandoning his usual polite and careful behavior as he pushed and shoved his way through the market until he, too, reached the entrance of the alley.

If he had had a heart, Carlisle thought with a grimace, it would be beating very very fast now. And yet, even though his heart hadn't beat in centuries, Carlisle found himself shivering and trembling as he stepped into the shadows that seemed to separate this dark world from the lively market place. Unconsciously Carlisle fell back into his hunting-habits, moving carefully without making the slightest sound. The scent of fear was heavy in the air and the muffled gasp of pain told Carlisle that Edward must have run into the very people the vampire had hoped to avoid. Carlisle stifled a growl, picking up his pace. If he remembered correctly the vampires that had taken up residence here were still in a weakened state a fight had left them in before they arrived in Chicago. There were hardly a match for Carlisle but a human boy like Edward running right into their arms must seem like a heaven-sent gift to them.

Pressing his lips together into a thin line of determination Carlisle pushed forward and then – quite abruptly – came to a halt behind a lump of indiscernible things that might have once belonged to a cupboard, his eyes widening in terror: At the dead end of the alley, trembling so hard that Carlisle wondered how the child managed to stay on his feet at all, was Edward Masen – facing three full-grown vampires being armed with nothing but a wooden stick the child must have picked up somewhere in the alley.

"S-stay away!" Edward shouted, his voice sounding thin and weak, making Carlisle's heart ache. "I'm armed!" The child shouted and waved the stick threateningly. "And I'm not afraid to use this!" His trembling voice, however, belied his words. Carlisle crept closer, desperately trying to think of a way to get the child into safety without betraying his identity.

"Oooh," a cold voice cackled, obviously amused. "You hear that, Al? He's threatening us with his little toy sword."

"I won't hurt you if…if…" Edward's voice trailed off and he looked at them as if something suddenly occurred to him, emerald eyes wide in a mixture of fear and curiosity. "Did the…did the devil send you?" he asked in a small voice as he pressed his back against the wall. "Are you here to take my soul?"

Cold laughter answered the terrified boy. "Keep your soul, brat, we want your blood." The vampire in front of Edward tensed his muscles and lunged before the boy had a chance to utter the slightest sound.

oOo

It was that moment that Carlisle decided that he didn't care about betraying his identity anymore. He would see this child safe and damn the consequences. With a mighty jump, Carlisle pushed his body forward and met the vampire in mid-air, knocking the air out of his opponent before landing protectively in front of Edward.

"Leave," Carlisle said in a low, dangerous voice.

"What if we don't?" one of the vampires challenged him, making Carlisle growl.

"Do you really want to make me angry?" he snarled and something in his expression must have gotten the message across as the other vampires, growling and snapping their teeth in frustration, retreated into the darkness leaving Carlisle alone with Edward, who still held on to his "weapon" with an iron grip.

oOo

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd held in, Carlisle turned around with deliberate slowness to face the boy. "I believe you're called Edward," he said kindly and the boy nodded, his expressive green eyes locking with Carlisle's black ones.

"They had red eyes," Edward whispered, utterly terrified. "Were they…demons?"

"No," Carlisle shook his head, going through a variety of arguments in hopes of persuading the boy that nothing he had seen this day was in any way unnatural.

"They wanted my blood," Edward insisted stubbornly. "They spoke about biting me."

"Rabies, boy." Carlisle said praying Edward would believe him. "They are sick. Being ill has driven them insane."

Edward seemed unconvinced. "But their eyes –"

"Little blood vessels burst in their eyes. Because of the sickness." Carlisle lied with frightening ease, watching Edward's reaction closely. However, the boy seemed slightly mollified by the explanation and relaxed his grip on his weapon, approaching Carlisle ever so carefully.

"Let's get you home, shall we?" Carlisle asked, holding out his hand and Edward nodded, taking it without hesitation when the adrenaline that had held up his small body suddenly left and he was swaying on his feet in exhaustion. Carlisle caught him and within a moment swept him up in his arms, holding Edward in a safe – albeit cold – grip.

After a few moments Edward's head dropped and the boy leaned his forehead against Carlisle's chest, almost drifting off to sleep making Carlisle wonder once again that this must be what it felt like to have a son. To protect a child that trusted him completely. And that made him wonder – why did that boy trust him that implicitly? Surely he must have looked frightening fighting the other vampire but that didn't seem to faze the child.

"Edward?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Are you asleep?"

The boy shook his small bronze-haired head against Carlisle's chest. "No."

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Carlisle pressed on and Edward raised his head to face his rescuer.

"No."

"But…why not? Didn't you see what I did?"

Edward returned his look evenly. "Yes, I did."

"And doesn't that make you wonder what I am?" Carlisle inquired.

"I know what you are."

The vampire felt his knees go weak. That couldn't be. It just couldn't. "And what am I?" he whispered anxiously, confused by Edward's trusting smile.

"You're my guardian angel," the boy answered before nestling back into Carlisle's arms and falling asleep for good.

oOo