The Vampire's Apprentice

Sam finally settled down next to his human with a sigh as the time ticked on. And on. The moon inched across the sky. Midnight... one am... two am... three am...

Then came a soft scratching at the door, barely in human range and easily dismissed as a leaf blowing across concrete. Sam sat up, the nubs of ears pricking interestedly. His hackles rose.
 
Kitty had eventually managed sleep, though it was restless. A soft growl from Sam was enough to wake her, and she sat up, rubbing her eyes and wondering what had the dog spooked. Her mental processing wasn't up to par at the moment.
 
He needed in. He needed in! Shaky hands finally found the key and the hole and united to twain to open the door. He stepped inside and closed the door, leaving a small spot of red as he locked it once more. He wobbled toward the kitchen, holding one hand around his waist as he tried to make his way into the kitchen. The world spun around him. Just a little farther! But he couldn't do it. He could not make it.

The room tipped, and he was on the floor. He tried to reach out, but he could only lay there. Just for a minute. Just for a minute. Deep slices over his body seeped blood through his clothes.

Sam growled, standing in front of Kitty. Danger!
 
She heard the door and was immediately on alert. Heeding Sam's warning, head cleared suddenly, Kitty crept slowly down the stairs and peered outwards. She brought a flashlight, but didn't flick it on. Listening, she heard nothing, but something was down there for sure. Sam sensed it, and if it was Clancy, she didn't understand why the dog would be growling, so for now she assumed it was an intruder.
 
Sam stayed right next to her, still growling as he went ahead and growled at the figure on the floor. He was careful not to get too close, glaring.

Food! He smelled food! He lifted his head, a renewed will to live. He crawled forward, panting, his fangs extended hungrily. The dog backed up hurriedly, and he hesitated. No, he needed something better than dog. He knew where to get it. He just had to reach! He pushed himself up and struggled with the refrigerator door.
 
Kitty crept even closer, finally flicking on the flashlight.

"Mr. McCleary?" She called hesitantly, letting the beam rest on his grotesque figure. She'd recognize his red hair anywhere. "What happened? Are you alright?"
 
He smelled her blood. Human blood! Fresh and hot! The thud of a heartbeat sounded in his ears, deafening him to all else. He just needed her a little closer. He was weak, so very weak, but if he could just get her in his hands...

No! Something deeper than instinct overrode his desire, and he wrenched his gaze away before he could hypnotize her. Food! No, not her. She was not food! He scraped at the fridge door, smeering it with blood as he desperately tried to remember how to open it.
 
She had a pretty good guess what was going on simply by that terrifying, ravenous look in his eye and the pathetic scratching at the fridge door. Kitty set the flashlight down on the butchers block so the beam remained angled in his direction, and she stepped slowly forwards to open the fridge. Her only hope was that he held out long enough to use something other than her as a meal, but she fully expected this not to happen and was prepared for the consequences. That said, everything in her movements treated him much like a wild and dangerous animal—one who could kill her easily if she misstepped.
 
The instant the door opened, he scrabbled inside and pushed things out of the way to reach a tiny lever at the back. The whole back opened to reveal a small storage section at the back filled with small sacks of blood from a blood drive. He made certain to always keep some on hand for possibilities just like this. Recklessly, he bit into a bag and tore it open to gulp down its cold contents. Not as good as the fresh stuff, but it would help. He tore open another then another before finally pausing to catch his breath.
 
She drew away just as quickly, averting her gaze to avoid nausea at the sight. After a moment, Kitty glanced towards him. "You better now?"
 
Clancy coughed and groaned weakly. He drank one more bag then slid himself back and laid down. He hurt. So much. His wounds should have healed, but they only just stopped bleeding. He didn't answer Kitty, but he glanced at her, hearing her voice.
 
The girl gingerly stepped closer again—near enough to squat next to him, ignoring entirely the part of her that said to escape; to hide and preserve her life—trying to avoid thinking of the cold, crimson liquid running between her toes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and asked quietly, "Are you alright?"
 
Clancy leaned toward her, closing his eyes with a soft groan. He needed a bath and sleep. Still weak and shaking, he slowly pushed himself to his feet and leaned on the counter. He would have to find blood from a living victim soon, but that stuff had bought him time. He started slowly working his way toward his bedroom and bathroom then stopped. He reached out to Kitty, silently begging for her help.
 
She went to support him without question. This was her purpose, after all. That, and....

"If you need to feed off of me... I don't mind." Kitty told him quietly. As if she knew anything at all about vampires and their feeding habits! In her mind, it was better to offer herself and be rejected than have him deteriorate further. Without him, she lacked a reason to live, even if she died so he could survive.
 
Clancy squeezed her shoulder a little as he leaned on her. He would thank her when he could, but not yet. Not yet. First, he needed to be clean! He limped his way to the bathroom and climbed into the tub, clothing and all. He pointed to the faucet. Shower. Please.
 
Kitty made herself promise not to think too hard about any of this. She turned on the water to a mild, warm temperature, then took the bar of soap and a damp washcloth, lathering one with the other. The water was stained crimson in a darker shade than she had expected, but since she was going to be removing deep red from just about every surface downstairs, her shock was nullified.

"If you want to truly be clean," Kitty said, again swallowing the lump in her throat as she placed the soap back, "you'd best take your shirt off. It's soaked in blood."
 
Clancy sat shivering in the bath as the water washed over him. He managed a nod and stiffly removed his shirt, tearing the material from his body. It was already so shredded it did not take much effort. He let it fall onto the floor with a splat, revealing a torso covered in deep slashes. His back suffered the worst, but his sides had two each and one down his chest. A human likely would not have survived. Even a vampire was struggling. The wounds should have closed. Instead, they only stopped bleeding, and pale flesh was dark with bruises.
 
Kitty winced—she couldn't help it. With a gentle touch, she took the washcloth and brushed it over his cheek, slowly working her way down. "You can't go dying on me—even if you are already dead. I won't have it. I worry for you, too, you know."

What could have caused this? What could have done something so devastating?
 
Clancy lowered his head, shivering. He looked gaunt and ancient, finally appearing as if his death had caught up to him, but the blood in his system and Kitty's gentle administrations were slowly reviving him. He leaned into her touch subconsciously, needing the touch.
 
She went as far as she dared, stopping at his waist. Anything further was too far. Kitty rinsed out the cloth and set it aside. Taking a small amount of shampoo and rubbing it between her palms, she rinsed the filth out of his hair, trying mildly to untangle it as she went. It would definitely need a brush run through it later.
 
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