Dark Angel
This is an idea I got from Edward describing his "rebellious phase." What if he didn't catch a murderer while the murderer was alone? What if he caught one in the act? What would the person he saved see and feel? This is in one woman's point of view.
Edward in this story is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I am in no way associated with the owner(s), creator(s), or producer(s) of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
I walked down the street towards home as I did every day after work. Nothing seemed different from any other day. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the buildings and long shadows between them. There were a few other people hurrying home after their own shifts at the stores on the street or last-minute purchases before closing time. I walked past the same buildings that I passed twice a day, six days a week, my only worry being what I would make for dinner. That was when a hand shot out of a long shadow and dragged me into the alley.
I was pushed against the wall of the alley, head cracking against the bricks. I felt something cold and sharp against my neck and the breath of a man, hot and rank, against my face. He said, "Scream and die," while he pushed up my skirts.
"Oh my God," I thought, "I'm going to be raped." Fear and helplessness held me immobile, silent.
A sharp crack suddenly echoed through the alley, and an inhuman strength ripped my attacker off of me. When my reactions finally caught up to events, I saw my assaulter dangling from the hand of a man, his neck bent at an impossible angle. My gaze was drawn up the arm to the face of my saviour, and … My thoughts slowed down again.
He was an angel. He had to be. His skin glowed even in the faint light found in the shadows of an alley at sunset. Every plane of his face was shaped as if God himself had chosen him to embody beauty. But it was his eyes, those eyes, that truly betrayed his inhumanity. They were black with fury. My avenging angel.
Before I had the chance to process all of this, he said in a rough velvet voice, "Go." When I didn't respond immediately, his impatience grew. "Run away!" he growled at me. I finally realized what he wanted, and ran out of the alley, towards home, my only thought, "Safe. Saved."
When I finally stopped to catch my breath, I realized I wanted to thank my dark angel, wanted to see the proof of the divine one last time. I returned to the alley, only to see that both my assailant and my angel had disappeared. I looked closer into the alley, hoping for some sign that what I had seen had not been some wild imagining. The only trace of either's existence in my world was a single drop of blood fallen on a cobblestone, still wet and sparkling like a ruby in the final rays of light at dusk.