I had just set aside my cell phone when there came a loud knock at my front door. Loud and obnoxious.

And since my inner alarm was not ringing, I relaxed a little as I moved through the hallway. Still, if there was a vampire hunter on the other side of that door, he was in for one hellacious fight.

It wasn't.

As I glanced through the peep hole, I saw a wildly warped and misshapen, yet familiarly handsome, face.

Fang.

His face, if possible, appeared even more misshapen due to what he was holding in his right hand: a bottle of hooch. I opened the door and he veritably spilled into my living room.

"Hope I'm not disturbing you or anything, Moon Dance," he said, catching himself on the center post that divided the foyer from the living room. His speech was nearly incoherent.

"You're drunk, Fang."

"Oh, am I? I thought I was just shit-faced."

I shut the door and double locked it behind me. As I did so, Fang began whistling for a dog. "Here, wolfie. Here, boy."

"Kingsley's not here," I said, irritated.

"Oh, that's a shame...I had brought him some bones from work. Ribs, I think." He briefly held up a greasy bag, which he shoved back into his coat pocket.

"You're being a jerk, Fang."

He stood before me, swaying slightly. "You'll have to forgive me, Moon Dance. I've kind of been dealing with a broken heart."

Fang wasn't looking too well. His hair looked dirty. His clothing was wrinkled. His hygiene was questionable. He also looked like he'd lost about ten pounds since I'd last seen him.

He held up his bottle of booze. Vodka. A big bottle, too, and it was nearly empty. "Would you like a drink, Moon Dance?"

"What are you doing here, Fang?"

"Oh, that's right. Vampires can't drink the hard stuff. Only the red stuff." He laughed a little too hard at his own joke, then pushed away from the center post and stumbled into the adjoining living room. Like I said, I live in a small house. With two or three steps, a person could go from the foyer, to the dining room, to the living room.

"You mind if I sit, Moon Dance? I'm not feeling too well."

As he stumbled across the floor, I ran to his side and helped him down onto my beautiful new couch. Once there, I positioned him so that his boots hung off the edge. I also relieved him of the vodka bottle.

As I positioned a pillow under him, he watched me with big, wet eyes. They were beautiful eyes. Knowing eyes. Drunk eyes. "Ah, Moon Dance. It almost feels as if you care about me."

"Of course I care about you, Fang."

I went into the kitchen, poured the booze down the drain, and deposited the bottle in my recycle bag. When I came back, Fang was trying to remove his boots. I knew that the drunk bastard would have to sleep it off here. Sighing, I helped him with his boots. Once again, he watched me. This time with a big, stupid, drunk grin.

"I like when you help me, Moon Dance. It feels good."

"Yeah, well, you smell like greasy ribs and vodka and its turning my stomach."

"Words every man wants to hear." He patted the area next to him on the couch. "Lay next to me, Moon Dance."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not right."

"Hey, if you're not going to turn me into a blood-sucking fiend, then at least throw me a few crumbs here, Sam. Something, anything."

"If you're going to talk like this, Fang, then I'm calling you a cab."

"Talk like what, Moon Dance? Affectionately? Lustfully? I loved you long before your shaggy wolf friend came sniffing around. I poured my heart out to you. Gave you all my attention. All my love, even if it was from afar. How many times did I drop everything to help you? How many times did I forego my own needs to help you, to talk to you, to be there for you?"

"You stalked me, Fang."

"It was the only way, Moon Dance. The only way. You would not have come out into the light. Literally."

"I would have. Someday."

"But not soon enough, obviously. I waited too long, and look what happened. Aroooooo."

"You're drunk, Fang."

"But that makes my pain no less real, Samantha Moon. I loved you like no other, and you tossed me aside for your doggie toy. The least you could do was turn me, to make me like you, to help ease the pain."

"You're trying to manipulate me, to make me feel guilty, Fang, and that's a shitty thing to do."

"It's nothing but the truth, Moon Dance."

"Get some sleep, Fang."

Indeed, his eyes were dropping fast. He turned on his side and wrapped an arm around himself and I saw something disturbing at his wrists. Fresh wounds. Bite marks. Had he been biting himself again? I didn't know.

I stared down at Fang, a man I legitimately cared for and loved on some level. A man for whom I had no answers. That he was miserable, there was no doubt. That he loved me in his own way, I had no doubt either.

What I should do about it all, I still didn't know.

Soon after he was snoring loudly into one of the couch cushions, I decided to follow up on a hunch.

I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.

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