Okay so when I read breaking dawn it seemed to me that a lot of the other vampires had a sort of attachment to Carlisle, so I thought I would create my own strange reason why. It's probably not historically correct, so please don't shoot me ;) but I would appreciate your thoughts!

Alistair POV

Venom swelled is my mouth, it's bitter taste stinging my tongue. I crouched, my muscles flexing, and took a lung full of air. The scent of blood flooded my lungs, burning my throat. The shape of a man slunk along in the shadows, as if he knew the world's most powerful predator watched his every move. I moved soundlessly over the sleet toward his position, the dark of the night concealing my presence. The cold air nipped at any exposed skin, but it created little discomfort for a creature such as myself. Seconds before I leapt at him, I froze. A more pleasant smell hit the back of my throat, completely intoxicating me. It was much sweeter than the coppery smell of the man. Honeysuckle. Honeysuckle mixed with the metallic scent of blood. Someone else was here.
Yet I heard no heartbeat. Unable to believe my senses would lie to me, I glanced around, standing from my crouch. "Where are you?" I hissed under my breath, feeling as though it was I that had become the prey. "Show yourself." I sunk back against the wall, becoming invisible again, surveying the area. Straining my ears, I heard the soft sound of breathing. A wide smile fixed itself across my face as I tracked the source, creeping along the track in the downpour. Even immortal, my vision was blurred by the mixture of rain and snow.
That sweet smell was stronger now, and I was almost giddy. Yet, blinded as I was, I almost stood on him. The fire burning in my gut now made me feel ill instead of wanting to feed. The flow of venom ceased immediately and I stared sickly down at him.

One or two, he was defiantly no older. I had never been this close to a child once I was changed and my memory of them was hazy, but somehow I knew he was under fed; his bones seemed startlingly prominent. He lay curled into himself, unsuccessfully trying to shelter under the small eve of the roof. Fine blond hair was plastered to his forehead and even lying in a mixture of snow and mud he seemed pure. His lips were blue and there was no colour in his face. As I watched, both his heartbeat and breathing seemed to dim, becoming even softer until I struggled to hear either of them.
I knelt beside him. You are a monster, Alistair. You would've hurt a child. Coughing once, I cleared my throat of any need to cry. "Where are your parents?" I asked, out of place and bewildered. He offered no response. "Who keeps you, little one?" I hesitated before touching his hand. There was absolutely no heat under his skin. Drawing in a deep breath, I slid off my jacket, wrapping the tiny soul in it and slowing picking him up. I wasn't sure I had ever held something so fragile, but I was sure I couldn't live with myself if I let him die.

He needed help. Every breath was shallow and forced, and I heard liquid in his lungs. I couldn't warm him for I possessed no heat, and all I could do was watched as the life seeped out of him.
Suddenly I had an idea. My confidence dwindled but I had to. Whatever was left of my conscious forced me to; I could not left this little one die.
As I walked I practised moving my shoulders as though I was breathing while keeping my lungs empty. My eyes would still be red, maybe darker from not feeding but still red. That was too bad. I had no choice, it had to be done. As I worked myself into false hysterics, I realised my sobs would not be fake at all, but rather a mixture of fear, worry and disgust. How could anyone let this happen?
I ran at human pace, practising staggering as if I too was injured and it was a struggle holding the boy. Eventually the building came into view, both to my immense relief and horror. I still doubted I was strong enough to stand in a room full of beating hearts, especially seeming as I hadn't fed.

I burst in the door of the healers, and was almost overwhelmed by the scent of humans. It seemed to drip from the air, clouding my mind and thoughts. A soft whimper from the child in my arms, the first sigh of actual life, ripped me back into sanity. "Help! Someone please help us!" I cried, hoping that maybe the cracking of my voice would pass for distress, rather than smothering desire.
There was a ruffling of clothing and a set of heavy footsteps before a plump women appeared in front of me. She took in the pair of us; both soaked to the skin and incredibly pale, but as soon as her gaze landed on him her eyes widened.
"Our cart- it crashed- please help him! My wife- my wife is dead- please- We've been walking for hours and he's so cold- I can't lose him too," I pleaded tearfully. Guilt tugged at me as I mentioned a non-existent mate, but the more sympathy I got get from this woman the better. I couldn't pay her, but maybe she would take pity. "Please, I beg you; I have no money, but please help my boy." I hoped I appeared desperate.
"Of course," she agreed quickly, her features twisting. "Come this way." She led me down a tight hallway and into a simple room with rundown bed and an empty table. Immediately after she took him from my arms I felt desolate, watching him being laid down. I winced slightly, wondering if the blanket would irritate his delicate skin. "Doctor!" she called. Soon after a man bustled into the room, carrying an air of authority. He dropped a bag of tools on the table.
"Name?" he asked, glancing at me.
"Alistair," I answered automatically, fear shooting through my chest when I realised I should have lied. Suddenly I realised that he wasn't asking my name, but the boy's. Too late.
"Can you hear me, Alistair?" she asked, stroking his hair off his face as she knelt beside him. He didn't respond.
"Please help him," I whispered again, involuntarily. I felt sick, the tightness in my throat no longer thirst. Why do you care? He's not yours.
"I'll do my best, sir," the doctor assured me. "He needs to be warmed. Do you have a change of clothes with you?" He glanced up at me and I fumbled for a lie.
"N-no, we lost everything," I stammered, relieved once the words were out of my mouth.
"Did he suffer a fall in the crash?"
"I don't know, Doctor. I wasn't conscious." I prayed he wouldn't want to check me as well; the moment he touched me my mouth would be on his throat.
He just nodded and murmured to the women next to her. She hastily climbed to her feet, wincing as her knees ached in protest. When she appeared again, she nursed an armful of cloth. "Clothes, sir. It's not much, but it's all we can offer. They should fit." She pushed them into my arms, our eyes meeting briefly. She faltered, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening.
"Thank you," I told her warmly, forcing a smile. "It's greatly appreciated." I ducked my head, looking away so she could no longer see me, but still she stared.
Rescue came in the form of a small cry from the child as the doctor forced him to sit up. Tears welled in his eyes as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, quickly overflowing and spilling down his cheeks.
"Come now, Alistair. Your father is here," the woman chided, stepping out of the way so he could see me properly.
Unmistakable fear flashed across his face and he shrunk back, sensing the danger of my presence. His rejection stung like salt in a wound and the need to comfort him was overpowering, almost as strong as the immense need for him to love me. You're a monster. He never will.
The woman misinterpreted his discomfort. "Shush, you can go to him soon. Let's say we clean you up a bit first, hmm?" She drew a cloth from a bowl of water, starting to wash the mud from his face and arms. Scratches and scrapes littered his skin, as well as dark bruising in the unmistakeable pattern of hand prints. She didn't seem to notice. The next time she rubbed the cloth up his arm, the heavenly scent of his blood flooded the room.
My throat caught fire and my hand flew to my neck as if to smother the flames. "I-I need to step out, I w-will return…" I trailed off and bolted to the street, sucking the cool air in and out of my lungs. It cleared my head some, but the thirst remained. I needed to hunt; I couldn't face the boy again otherwise.

I dropped the limp body from my arms, hanging my head in shame. The drained corpse hit the forest floor in an undignified manner, almost as ungodly as the way he had died. I dawdled on the way back to the healers, the constant whine of worry lodged deep in my brain; the worry that the boy would look upon my face as nothing but pure evil, seeing the monster that I was. I feared I would destroy his innocence.
I could not keep him, I knew that. He would need to be returned to his family at once. How I would find them I did not know, but find them I would, or god save me. Another fear played on my mind; could I withstand holding him, his beating heart so close to my dead one, my lips so close to his throat? Would I end up a mindless monster, feeding off the vibrant souls of children?

I prayed not.

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