Chapter Text
Alastor coughed. Even after being slammed, the solid ground was enough to push on the remaining air in him. He clawed into the dirt as he dragged himself forward, forcing out an exhale with the remaining breath. “Ugh, guahh…” It was so exhausting. Alastor couldn't feel much of the specific pains, only the overall paralyzing throbbing weakness eachtime he moved. He was covered in a dark, dark blood that could only make a slight orange tint against his red suit. He couldn’t tell exactly where he was; his focus remained on the staff just out of his reach, as he crawled. But he could hear the commotion. The Yells of mostly feminine voices around him, the loud rumbling engine of the Huge weapon in front of him. He was concussed, but he could still feel the glass shards inside him as he outstretched his arm towards the staff.
“Alastor!” a all too familiar voice called out, though he didn't have the energy to look over.
Alastor let out a groan when he heard it, not now. He had no energy left for his persona; he was weak. He groaned at the thought before Charlie ran over to him and slid onto her knees.
“Oh my gosh, Al, I-” Charlie's voice wobbled as she winced at the bloodied body she loomed over, a bit too shocked to speak. “I- are you okay? That's really..”
Alastor was about to respond, but Vox’s obnoxious voice managed first, glitching with radiostatic. His screen was damaged, his Lcd leakage spreading through his panel, but with his half-demon form, it honestly just made him look scarier, or it would if it wasn't for his softer panting expression. He wasn't smiling, but don't mistake that for guilt; he didn't feel guilty.
“I won,” he said breathlessly, looming behind Charlie, with a conflicted but smug aura surrounding him.
Charlie started to attempt to move alastor onto his side. He resisted at first but gave in, realizing he didn't have the energy… he couldn't even resist a slight shove… Alastor's ears went further back.
“Oh God, that’s bad. We can fix this. It's fine.”
Alastor looked down at himself, following Charlie's eyes to his torso. His chest was ripped before, but now it clawed its way down to his stomach? At least the blood did, with all the stuff in the way, including his own scraped skin, it was impossible to tell without a clean. Despite this, Al's eyes closed in a painful wince as Charlie's hands pressed on his torso; he flinched away, causing Charlie to do the same. This dehumanization was enraging him. Holding him like a dog, like, like some damn weakling depending on the powerful. Alastor growled at her, but this didn't actually stop much, just made her more aware of the seriousness of the situation as Al broke character.
“Ahhhhaahhh, I WON! You petty little bitch! ahHAHA!” Vox declared with a deep, unstable voice as he started to pace near the Might Of Lilith to grab some wires.
The blonde seemed to be growing more pissed at voxs tangent, “You're fine, get up,” she said firmly, as if trying to convince herself. She wrapped her arm around his underarm, hesitating as if for permission before a firm grip on him. She attempted to stand with him, but as she heard the noises she quickly returned to her knees, reeling at the extra damage she's caused wtih, while radio demon in her arm. “It's okay, we’ll… you're fine.” Her tone softened in the main.
As Charlie held Al, the angel slowly started to approach behind her, weakened, looking empaethtic. PITY.
“M-my dad can heal, just hold up, Al. You’ve never been hurt before.”
Alastor rolled his eyes at her words as she continued to linger her hands on his bloodied body, though he could hardly truly feel them. Her touch felt numb against his skin; the sharp throbs from his open wound seemed to take up most of his senses. Even his vision, his eyes drifted anytime he tried to focus. The overwhelming red of the sky clouded his sight. He could see heaven there.. The planet looking place there, which already faced the Might of Lilith once, well lucifer’s powers, he didn't forget that. Lucifer was in there, his angelic powers were what flued said weapon. He was there when he got trapped in that glass afterall. It was pathetic, borderline humorous. As his thoughts flooded his mind, his head slid back in exhaustion. As he did this His eyes drooped onto his staff, and he forgot which was in front of him. The sensation of all the pain and Charlie’s strict hold on him returned, as he was also greeted with the pain in his body. With almost no thought, he reached for his staff. Rosie's whole thing was canablism; she had regeneration abilities, mainly of limbs, but it never failed to heal him before, not until his staff broke at least. He reached towards it, his ripped shirt tightening against his skin. His fingers grazed the staff, and he slowly stretched his thobling body to reach.
“….I, not Agian, I, I can't do this again, alastor? Out of everybody, you're-, I–how could I even let this happen to you? “
Charlie rambled to herself before Vox's laugh interrupted her. He was perched up on the huge glowing oval of the might of Lilith, laughing.
Charlie turned her head towards him till she efalt alastor pull his staff into his grip.
“Alastor, no, you were one of the ones who were supposed to be with me. I can't let you die, i-i cant cause your death too. You… “ She seemed to struggle to find words, but Alastor's focus was far from her. His heavy eyes stayed locked on his staff. He knew he wasn't going to die; it took more than this to kill the radio demon, more than Vox of all people. Al’s Thoughts were abruptly silenced as Charlie pulled him up. She was now propped up on a knee instead of sitting on them. Alastor still let out a choked noise, but it was hidden beneath the static radiating from him. As she rose Her voice became more unfappable and louder.
“I have let you fuck with my people enough. You have no right to do all of this. I don't care if every sinner in hell hates me, you will not take these beautiful people and- hurt them! And most of all, you don't get to fuck with my friends!” Charlie scowled at Vox, her red horns portraying her limited patience, though her words couldn't help but piss alastor off a bit.
“Alastor?” Vox exclaimed, with humourless exasperation. “AHAah, he's not your friend. Damn, you're pathetic if you genuinely think Alastor could ever be more than self-serving dick. He’s using you, that's what he does. That's all he ever does.” Vox pointed at Al, who was glaring back at him, though it looked slightly challenging. Charlie continued to hold her ground but Alastor could see beneath the façade; he was good at that. Vox may have been too wrapped up in his own ego to notice, but Charlie was weak, not physically but morally. She was scared, and it was obvious. Friendship was a weak motivator, because its fluctuate. Alastor's motivation would never change. You could never lose the desire for power. You could lose your friends. You will lose your friends, and you'll be left with nothing. Susceptible to all. The idea of Charlie and her little dreams breaking, while being so focused on her insignificant little relationships, The thought brought him a sadistic thrill. Through her power, it won't just go to waste. Afterall, the weakest demons were always the easiest to break, just look at Vox for goodness ' sake.
“I don't care about what he's done. I believe we're all worth saving, even the worst of us. And as long as I’m alive, I’ll defend them; every sinner deserves a chance.”
Alastor's smile strained and his ears pinned, though as she contued he felt himself loosen his restraint.
Vox stared at her with disgust and muttered. “You don't know the half of it.” Then scoffed and opened an illumination screen with a bunch of controls to start trying to set up the weapon. “Hell doesn't even like you! I'm the face of the fucking revolution! You’re on the side of the people who have committed genocide against the “I'm so misunderstood” sinners youre so desperate to defend for years! Isn't that hypocritical, princess?” He said, princess, like a mocking elementary schooler. His eyes brightened as a check appeared on his screen, then he laughed as the weapon started syncing wires. “Ahah, holy shit, this is gonna be hilarious. IMA FUCK YOU UP BYOTCH!” Vox seemed to be on a high now. He might have been talking to Al, or Charlie, but Al wasn't listening; he was watching Charlie, as her demeanor went from head up and idealistic to defensive and hesitant.
“I- dammit, Vaggie! Take him somewhere, vag-? Where are you!?! Um.”
Charlie looked around only to see Emil,y who was occupied, helping sinners.
“It's okay, Al. We’ll heal you up good as new– just eheeeehhh get up.”
Alastor frowned (with his eyes) in disappointment at her helpless display. She started trying to lift him with little regard for the PAIN that it caused, trying to drag him out the way, despite the way he groaned in begrudment and added deadweight. Charlie struggles to move his limp body.
“Why are u being so complicated!!?! Would you just let me help? We need you!” She grunted and continued, at this point alastor has actually had enough. He clenches his staff and tries to push away from her. As he was able to escape her grasp, he stumbled to his feet. Where he manages to hold himself up for a few seconds before falling back onto his knees. Charlie instinctively reached to catch him but decided it wasn’t the best approach and pulled back, allowing him to plop onto the dry ground. The Ray began to power up as Vox turned to face it directly between the two of them.
Charlie went against reasoning to step closer to the bloodied demon below her, while making sure to avoid contact, even if the demon attempted to scotch away.
“Alastor, please.” Charlie pleaded, as if expecting some return. ” Let me help you”
She reached down to him, squatting a bit to have her hand in his sight. Alastor could see the shadow of her hand. He could see his own shadow beside him; it cowered beneath him. The radio demon lifted his head, despite the washing it caused his head. He looked at her hand, hesitantly. He didn't have many choices, but he knew that help was not the only solution, matter of fact, it was hardly one at all. The last thing he wanted was to owe anything to anyone. He winced as the impending light in front of him, as his eyes wandered from her shaking hand to her face. Her expression looked.. Pathetic. Soft and vulnerable. Alastor's tunneled vision landed back onto her open palm. He couldn't meet her eyes, his head pinned back, his right hand clenched into his staff, but on his other: the fingers twitched reluctantly against the dirt, and slowly began to lift.
A Huge ray of light blinded both of them before a gush of wind and light charged at them Shattering and burning lots of the city behind them. An overwhelming smell of Ozone took over the senses of anyone even within a 30-yard radius. The light was overwhelming, but then it was met with a sudden black. A shadow that burned the eyes after such a estanential change. In a new mulky environment, the limp body slammed into the concrete, coughing up some blood from his split-lip mouth. Alastor's staff’s subtle green glow flickered out even before the smoke from the teleportation disappeared yet. Alastor let out another violet wet cough, which each time caused a direct shot of pain into his abdomen. He spat out the unnecessary amount of mixed fluids and looked up around the area. The molded brick walls loomed a dark shadow over him. The floor beneath him were cold and wet, and Cat spray was the new smell harassing his head, but the Ozone wasnt forgoten. He wished it were. But clearly his wishes were not gods priotry. He was in an alleyway of some sorts, he didn't really care where he teleported; he just had to save himself.
Despite finally being alone, Alastor stayed frozen, gasping, and clenched into his staff. At this point, his staff was more of a verification that he was alive than a tool. His fogged vision mindlessly locked on the entrance of the alleyway. Half of himself expected some demon to walk in and finish him off, but the streets around seemed lifeless. The mulky puddles beneath him were filled with some silt, bug larvae, and now his blood, despite this it actually calmed him a bit; the coldness felt comforting… His eyes grew heavy. As he dissoaceted with labored breaths, he noticed something on the sidewalk outside the alley, A half eaten frog type demon, motionless. The sight brought some sudden self-awareness, he wasnt goging to die like some measly sinner. He shook his head to try to wake himself, but it mostly just made him dizzy. With an exclamation of agony, he got up and fell back against the brick wall behind him. Taking now as the time to rip his coat open (Figuratively at least. he did have to unbutton each button. He attempted it literally, but that just didn't work.) as he looked at his bloodied injury, the filthy water managed to clean the blood that covered it before. He winced at the sight, before– even as he was bleeding, there were sitches that formed, that was part of his regeneration. It was already working slowly, but it helped, now after he used the rest of his energy on that teleportation (especially since so abrupt), it was hardly working, if at all. His stitches were gone; he was just bleeding. Rosie was his main source of healing, even if this staff was still technically hers; her power was no longer assisting in the fuel. It was just him. He's alone in this alleyway. Like a degenerate. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head back, propping it on a nearby trash can. He opened his eye, now watching the sight of the dark red sky tryinng to think of what to do. He couldn't think… he just really wanted a shower. He felt dirty, his body and his soul. He was very dirty. And Charlie trusted that? She was naive to think he was someone.. Someone to depend on, trustworthy. He flinched at another shock of pain after unwillingly lowering his hand. Alastor could see Charlie, in his head at least, “Why won't you let me help you?” He would snarl, but he didn't feel like it. He didn't care about what she said; it was that look… Her eyes were soft and familiar. She looked almost genuine for a second, like she cared, that's not a good feeling. Being cared for… he had a love-hate relationship with that empathetic furrowed brow. His sight focused on the memory of that soft smile, the air suddenly felt cleaner…. And that open exterior, those gentle, round blue eyes… blue?
“I mean, hah modern entertainment, did start with radio!” A familiar voice echoed. Alastor stifled up quickly, assessing his surroundings, the clean air. He looked around frantically, his– His clothes were changed! He was surrounded by drinks and tables– He was holding a drink! With disgust, he placed it on the table. Where the fuck was he? No, he knew where he was, but why? With absolute disgust at the living, breathing creature next to him, the gray vest, and the obvious old-fashioned picture box on his head. He knew who this was; he knew this memory. What was he doing here?