Chapter Text
"Ok. So. At what point are we gonna realize that we only have a chance of dyin' if we go to check on Smiles, but he's for sure gonna die if we don't," Angel finally asked. He was reclining on the couch in the parlor, scrolling through his phone, when he suddenly sat up to make that announcement. "I'm willin' ta risk it all and go check on him. Ain't like he has a phone."
It had been about two hours since the incident at breakfast. Charlie and Niffty had been worried sick about him, despite the assurances from Husk and Lucifer that he was most definitely fine. He had probably just caught a mere cold, and was too proud to show off his symptoms for all to see. After all. Alastor was not the type of man to ever ask for help, regardless of the circumstances.
But, despite these reassurances, neither of them could calm down. All they could think about was Alastor suffering- what if worse. What if he died from this. What if this was connected to his angelic wound, and he ended up double dead. These thoughts terrified them as they tried to continue on about their day, but they were hard to put out of their minds.
Even Vaggie was beginning to feel some concern. Sure, Alastor was not a man who would ever ask for help, but him slinking off to his room like that was most definitely a sign of weakness, and one that she found off. The Alastor she knew would put on some grand show in the lobby, proving to everyone that he was just as fine as he claimed. Instead, he coughed, and ran away. She didn't particularly like that.
As much as she hated the guy, she knew that her Charlie loved him more than just about anything. The things that she did for her girlfriend. "Alright, fine, whatever. Sit your fluffy culo down, and I'll go and check on him," Vaggie said, standing up. She grabbed her spear, just in case he lashed out. At least she had some nursing experience back in the day, and might be of some help with an angelic wound.
She climbed the stairs up to his room, cursing at herself under her breath. That proud, pompous freak got himself into this mess, and now she would have to do who knows what to get him out of it. He had Charlie wrapped around his finger, and she wasn't a fan of that. She didn't even bother to knock on the door, instead slipping the master key into the lock and letting herself in.
The first thing she saw was Alastor, sleeping soundly. Deeply. Uncomfortably. She wasn't sure if she had ever even seen the guy sleep before, let alone like this. Even with the smile still plastered on his face, he seemed to be in pain. His breaths were wheezy, and he moaned in his sleep. She approached him carefully, growing more and more concerned with every passing second.
He was flushed and sweaty, shivers and chills going through his body. Vaggie stared at him for a few moments. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't this. Alastor seemed borderline weak and fragile- she would have allowed herself to think that, if she didn't know better. It was disconcerting at best to see one of Hell's strongest overlords in such a state.
"Hey, Alastor," she called, watching for his reaction. The man didn't budge, instead, he stayed soundly asleep, unconsciously tugging at the blankets. "Alastor," she tried again. Once more, nothing. Finally, she reached out and shook his shoulder rather forcefully, trying to arouse him. His eyes opened slightly before closing again. "Alastor, seriously, wake up. What is going on with you?"
"Hello, my dear," he muttered back, finally waking up for real. He looked at her with a glassy, unseeing stare, shaking more noticeably as his consciousness returned. Alastor appeared disoriented and confused. "For what do I owe you the visit?"
"I'm just checking on you, because you nearly coughed your lungs out at breakfast, and then vanished off to your room, to not be seen or heard from again," as she finished her sentence, Alastor tried to sit up. He placed his hands at his side for extra support, trying to keep himself from going straight back down. "Be careful, you pendejo. You are clearly sick."
"Me? Sick? What makes you think that?" Vaggie rolled her eye at his comment, but then began to wonder just how serious he was being. The man seemed delirious. It was probably from the fever that he almost certainly had. Maybe he genuinely did believe that he was fine.
The moth summoned a thermometer, watching Alastor jump at the loud beeping sound that it made. She forgot about his sensitive deer ears. "Whatever. I'm just going to take your temperature real quick. You have a fever, I just need to know how high it is," she said. He leaned away from her initial attempt at taking it, but with her hand on his back, he allowed her to put it in his ear.
Her eye very suddenly widened. "Alastor, qué carajo es esto?" She stared at the number in disbelief, waiting for it to change to some sort of read error. She ran it again. "103.7? Al, that really isn't... good," she held her breath, waiting for a reaction from him. Instead, he merely fluttered his eyes, and muttered something incomprehensible in return. That was better than him attacking her, she supposed.
"I swear to you, I'm fine," his mouth sounded so dry, like he hadn't had anything to drink in days. Either that, or he had sweat it all put at this point. He was drenched. Vaggie didn't like this. "Please, just trust me here. I merely have some kind of cold, I'm fine," as he shifted on his bed, Vaggie noticed him wincing, a hand reaching towards his chest.
She knew that it was only a few days ago that he had been sliced across his entire torso with an angelic weapon. The stupid exorcists were always coming up with new ways to hurt Sinners. Could it be infected, and that was what was making him sick? "Al? I saw that wince. Is this from what... happened the other day?" She braced for him to lose it on her.
"No, Vaggie. It is a cold, and not much of one at that. Not everything has to be something," as he finished speaking, his chest spasmed, the deer beginning to cough into his elbow. "But who knows, maybe my immunity is down from such a blow. Now, if you want me to heal, please let me rest," dizziness began to overtake the demon once more, but he had to keep his composure.
If he just pretended that everything was fine enough, for long enough, everything would be alright. Even if he felt like his skin was melting off- especially near that darned wound- and like he couldn't think, and like his head was spinning and his eyes were filled with tears, and like thoughts were not entering his mind and his brain was running in slow motion.
His eyes were burning, and he gently closed them, even if it was for only a mere moment. Relief at last. Well, at least from the burning feeling, like his eyes were being stung with chemicals. It didn't give him relief from the rest of his symptoms, but at this point, anything would do. The words of that fallen angel girl- Victoria? Vera? Began to dull from mind, fading away like the rest of his thoughts.
"Alastor!" The deer's eyes popped open at Vaggie's sudden call. The edges of his vision blurred as black spots began to creep in, but he leaned himself back fast enough so that he didn't pass out. "Seriously, Al. You can't even keep yourself awake. I- go to sleep. I'll be back in here to check on you soon. I'm really not sure if we should be leaving you alone right now."
Whatever bit of awareness he had before while talking to Vaggie before had since departed from him, his usual smug look being replaced by a glassy glaze once more. He unconsciously ran his hand over his wound, grimacing at how much even the faintest touch felt- even if he barely knew where he was. His eyes shifted over to something he saw moving behind Vaggie.
He could have sworn that someone else had come up behind her, but they had since left. Oh well. It was probably just his shadow playing tricks on him. "Alright? Deal?" That was when he realized that Vaggie was talking to him again. He nodded in agreement to something that he did not even know, yawning as he allowed himself to lay down, trying to fight off the sleepiness as long as Vaggie was still there.
But to his surprise, even once she left- he didn't remember her leaving, but she was no longer there- he could not fall asleep. His eyes were suddenly stuck open, his body shivering in somewhat regular intervals. If he was thinking at all, he would have been glad that he was improving to the point where he was not falling asleep every two minutes. But he wasn't really thinking at all.
For a brief moment, he did wonder why Vaggie hadn't given him any pills, but then again, he didn't feel like he was choking on dryness anymore. Maybe she had given him something. He stretched out his body and stared at the ceiling, watching colorful formations take the place of the usually red paint. It was quite nice to watch, albeit a bit disturbing.
Some pressure felt like it was building up inside of his skull, but he decided to not pay it any mind. He felt like he was swimming, surrounded by cool waves, until he suddenly didn't. He was not a man to ever life water. If he was in the water, well. He couldn't swim. He staggered up to a sitting position, trying to discern what was really going on around him.
Feeling his lungs gasping, he drew a breath in, shooting and stabbing pain radiating from his wound. He felt like he was beginning to drown- that was impossible. He was in his bedroom, in the Hotel. Unless he had fallen in his bayou. He tried to open his eyes, soon realizing that he wasn't quite sure if they were open or closed in the first place. This was no state for the Radio Demon to be in.
Downstairs, Vaggie reclined back on the couch, desperately trying to talk everyone down- specifically, her girlfriend. She tried to play it down, and tried to not show her own concern to Charlie. She kept reassuring her that he would be fine, and that it was just a cold, and that he needed some rest. But to herself, she worried. Whatever this was, was angelic. She could tell.
After about 15 minutes, she heard footsteps coming from the top of the staircase. Everyone's eyes shifted upwards, no one noticeably missing, besides the sleeping Alastor. Now, however, it appeared he was trying to get himself downstairs. He slumped onto the banister on shaky legs, desperately trying to maintain balance.
"Alastor, what are you doing?" Vaggie sprung up from the couch, with Angel at her side, as they went up the first flight of stairs to the hallway where the Radio Demon was located. "Seriously, you should not be out of bed right now. You look like death warmed over. What are you doing?"
"I'm fine now, I'm just coming to visit you all," Alastor's speech was slurred as he practically collapsed into Angel's arms, heat radiating off of his sickly body. He tried to reach for the banister, not fighting that it was no longer within his reach. "Angel, I am fine! You don't need to be holding me anymore, I promise, I'm fine," Alastor did not sound fine. Far from it.
Angel set the deer down on the ground, watching as the demon stuck his hands up in the air in front of his face. He giggled deliriously as he flexed his fingers around. "Smiles. Ya sick, whetha ya like it or not. Ya delirious, too. How bout this. I carry ya back ta bed, Vagina here goes and gets ya some ice, and we can work on gettin' ya betta. How does that sound ta ya?"
"Carry me downstairs. I am fine," Alastor insisted. Vaggie studied him carefully, specifically examining his chest area. Even through the many layers of clothes that he wore, she could see a very faint golden glow coming from him. She inhaled sharply, Angel was thankfully too concerned with the delirious demon on the ground in front of him to notice her reaction, or where she was looking.
Vaggie groaned. "Alright. Take him back. I'll go try to find things to keep him cool. He was at 103.7 when I checked before. It's not great, but it's not... awful," she stopped at her last word, wondering at what point it did become awful. She was always taught that the point of awfulness, so to speak, was at 105 degrees. However, his delirium was a bit off putting to her, even if his temperature was under that.
The spider demon carried Alastor away, listening as he cursed him out in both English and French. He was getting agitated with him, and kept trying to summon tentacles to attack. However, he wasn't getting very far, and by the time that they had arrived in his bedroom, he was fast asleep in Angel's arms. Carefully, Alastor was placed on his bed.
"Ain't neva seen ya like this," Angel commented. "Ya actually kinda cute when ya like this!" He brushed Alastor's sticky bangs out of his face, feeling his forehead as he did so. "Not sure if Vagina is right, Smiles. Ya fever seems way higher than what she said, but whadda I know. Hopin' it's not from the fight the otha day, although I think Vaggie woulda said somethin' if she suspected that."
As if on cue, Vaggie walked through the door, her girlfriend holding her hand. Angel raised a finger to his lips, pointing towards the sleeping demon in front of him. "He needs the rest, I'm glad he's sleeping," Vaggie said. She emptied out the contents of her hands onto Alastor's bedside table- some ice, a few towels, the key, a thermometer, some bandages, and some crackers.
"He looks so sick," Charlie spoke with extreme worry and concern in her voice, seeing Alastor barely even react when the towel-wrapped bag of ice was placed on his forehead. His hand twitched a little, but that was about it. She rubbed behind his ears, watching a slight smile begin to form over his face once more. His eyes opened slightly, not quite seeming to see her. "Oh, you poor thing."
"I promise, I'll make sure that he's fine, babe," Vaggie said, placing a kiss on her girlfriend's forehead. She tried to make herself as confident on the inside as she was on the out. "But, if this is something affecting demons, you really shouldn't be in here, hun. I couldn't get it, but. You're half demon and you might. I would not want to see you looking like this."
"Vagina is right, Charlie," Angel added. "I'm sure that Smiles is gonna be fine, ya really think that a little cold is gonna knock him out? But we can't afford ta be catchin' this. Come on, toots. Let's head back down," Angel headed towards the door, keeping a close eye on Charlie. He was becoming increasingly worried himself- and didn't want Charlie seeing this.
"Ok, I-" Charlie stuttered over her words, carefully watching Alastor as she left the room. "Vaggie, once you're done, come give us an update, please. I trust you but. I want to make sure that Al's ok!" Before Vaggie could respond, Angel all but dragged her out of the room, giving the moth demon time to work.
Carefully, she slid Alastor's jacket off, her spear in her hand. If he awoke, he was going to try and kill her. She doubted that he had the strength to do such a thing, especially if this was an angelic wound, but she still had to keep that in mind. She threw the jacket to the side, noticing the glow under his shirt- she could not deny its presence. When she came back to check on him later, she would ask to change his bandages.
She ran his temperature again, wincing when it now read as 104.8. She didn't like how quickly it was going up. She made a mental note to not come back any more than two hours later, take his temperature, wake him up, and rewrap his bandages. She was a little surprised by how much care she was putting into him- she wasn't the biggest fan of the guy. But if he had an angelic wound this bad, he needed all the care that he could get.
As she left the room, she grabbed her phone and kept an eye on his sleeping form, trying to come up with any other ideas on how to help him. There wasn't all that much that she could do, besides try to stay on him about caring for himself. Alastor wasn't necessarily the best at doing so, but it wasn't like she could force him. His ego was far too big for that.
Once she was gone- Alastor wasn't sure how long she had been gone. But he did know that he was now alone in his room. It appeared to be a bit darker outside now, but at least he was feeling a little better. He sent a shadow to lock his door once more, a bit frustrated that everyone had gotten in, in the first place. Oh well. Exhaustion was beginning to settle in again.
He closed his eyes, fighting off hallucinations in the dark. He swore he heard people yelling for him, but he figured that that was the fever acting up. He stretched out his still cold, but not as cold, body, settling his neck into his pillow more. He wasn't even as nauseous as before. He was going to be alright, he thought to himself. He could change his bandages later, and everything would be ok.