Chapter Text
Alan groaned in agony as he felt his heart tear again as the cruel and vicious soul clawed at his body, or as the Reapers called it- The Thorns of Death. He rolled onto his side and tried to elevate his body and get into a comfy possition, it was hard work and he was almost too weak to simply roll over, sweat glistened on his pale and thin face, trailing down his face to his neck and continuing on to his feverish, little body. The small abandoned little building he and Eric had managed to accomodate as they ran from the Dispatch Association- something he had never thought himself of doing or even considering- was a dreary oittle place that held some ratty blankets which Eric had promptly wrapped Alan into and a simple little cushion which he was using for his pounding head. It held a broken, wooden chair which was propped in the corner next to Alan's 'sick bed' and which Eric used to watch Alan at night, holding his hand.
He missed Eric right now and wished he would return soon so that he could have the comfort of someone holding his hand and gently telling him to squeeze when the pain became to much. Or for someone to hold onto him tightly just so he could feel like he was among the living again. That was the thing about the Thorns, it literally took the life from you, it drained you as the soul fought to take over your body so it could continue living, unknowingly killing the thing that kept it alive. Eric would do all of these things and more and that was enough for Alan. It was. He could live his last few weeks or days with Eric if he would hold and comfort him but he could not allow him to continue his goal of the thousand souls, not when he knew what would happen to his dear- friend- when it came time for his redemption. He would not allow him to throw away the chance of gaining his place in heaven for him!
Him! A lowly Reaper who wasn't strong enough and who let his emotions cuase his weak, little body to be attacked by a soul not ready to pass over! He would not hear of it! He had begged and pleaded for Eric to stop.
"If you need souls so badly then take mine!"
And he held is blade aloft to strike only for it to be stopped by a strong arm and a demanding voice-
"Alan, No!"
The blade was wrentched from his grasp and the strong, rough hands held onto his shoulders and shook him roughly.
"If you die then all of my work will have been for nothing!"
For him, his friend had been juggling his work, Alan's own care, meetings and a social life so as to not be put under suspicion. How tired and wretched had Eric been feeling for the past few months- it must have been going on for months becuase there was no way Eric could reap so many in a few days.
"Aahhh!" He clutched to his chest and his bady spasmed in his almost blinding pain, dizzy spots appeared in his eyes as he tensed up into a tight little ball.
GOD! If he could die now he would be happiest. No more pain, no more guilt, no more sadness! Eric could return to the Dispatch and begin his work again. He could live freely and not have to worry about him anymore. Alan would not have to bare saying goodbye- out of everything he was afriad of it was not his death, it was watching Eric as he died becuase that would break his heart.
He had a bad feeling tonight, his stomach was doing incomforgable flips, as though it was trying to go for a walk to where it knew trouble was and he was supossed to follow. Eric! Something could be wrong! He knew Demons prolled these areas of London as he had met and spent time with one recently, even going as far as to follow it to it's Master's home and take up refuge there when he was paralyzed against one of his attacks! Filthy creatures they were but stupid he was not, he needed help and the closest was the young boys home. What a tortured soul.
He sighed and groaned as he got to his unsteady and weak feet, falling over onto his front only twice before he managed to get up and limp his way over to his Death Scythe which he grasped into his frail hand and set out looking for his wayward friend. His main hope was that he had run into the Demon- Sebastian was his name- and not that he was collecting more souls! Please! Please, God, if you could do one thing for me it would be that you looked after Eric and stopped his foolish hope for this myth cure to work.
Alan had of course heard and looked up for cures for The Throns of Death when he had first been diagnosed and contracted the deadly disease- when he was still full of a stuborn hope that he could beat this or be saved by some sort of miracle. Reading of the details of this cure, however, had stopped his hopes completly in their tracks as he read of all the souls he would be killing. He could never do it, not the innocents that had done no wrong and he could have vomited at the knowledge that Eric had collected eight-hundred and ninety-eight souls.
He trudged, weakly along, one hand coming up to rub at his aching chest as he made his way through the messy and filthy streets of London.
Noises were coming from the alleyway down the street- a brawl between two humans no doubt, it was common to see and almost the number one reason that reapers were called down to collect an unfortunate soul. The number one reason was illness, ironically. Alan sighed but couldnt stop his curious nature- he must have kept this trait from his human days as Reapers were trained to only focus on thier work and redemption they had no business or interest getting involved with humans, Demons or others, they sometimes had to get involved with ghosts and poltergeists but very few times had this been the case.
He was stopped in his tracks by the sight that met his eyes- Eric was fighting the Demon! And losing!
No!
Not his friend! Not his Eric!
"No!" He cried as he ran forward pushing the Demon away from a finishing blow to Eric's back and he crumpled with the energy used, he was too weak.
"Alan!" Eric called in worry and a undertone of a protectiveness rang in his voice.
"Why!? I told you to stop this! Just stop!" He cried, sobbing due to the pain and the deep sense of betrayal he felt coursing through him.
It was as he had feared. Eric was collecting, still. After everything Alan had done, abandoning his glasses and deserting, running with Eric, forgiving him- it had all meant nothing. He could have forgiven him, happily and he had done but the betrayal was something he could not forgive, never.
"Just one more! One more soul and I can save you!"
One more. One more. One more. One more. One more soul and he could be 'saved'. No. He would never be saved becuase he would have the knowledge of knowing that if he lived Eric would never reach redemption and if it didnt work he would die knowing he would never see Eric again becuase when or if his soul was taken a reaper could be reborn but not if they had purged so many souls as his friend had been doing. He would be taken to purgatory or eternal Hell depending on the innocent or how good the soul he had taken was.
"Stop this please, Eric!" He cried again his arms almost giving out on him. He noticed to his right that the young Lord Phantomhive was now joining his Pets side who was standing watching. Sebastian confused him, he was powerful and chose to kep a contract with a young boy, he had the chance right now to kill them and he was standing and watching and finally he had not been the cuase for most if any of the trouble that had been going on in London. He had actively been trying to stop it, all for his Masters word.
He could see what was about to happen before it did.
"But there is one soul over there now!" He heard from behind him.
No!
He mustered all of the strength he could and pounced towards the Demon and his Master, effectivly blocking them from any harm. And that's when he felt a sharp pain slice throug his body.
He didn't even have time to gasp in pain before his vision went black.