Chapter Text
Charlie paid more attention to Emily. That was fine. It was. Just... Alastor and Lucifer were both bleeding on the ground, and she ran past them with barely a glance. Alastor was already pushing himself relatively upright, but Emily was an angel, and she was bleeding in Hell. It was fine that Charlie didn't even pause. It was fine. She was safe, and that's all that mattered. They'd survive. They always did. They had to.
Sometimes, though, they almost didn't.
But she didn't have to know that.
Emily was practically dragging herself toward the portal back to heaven, through which Pentious and Sera were most likely waiting. Alastor leaned too heavily on his staff, almost snapping the newly-repaired metal. When Charlie brushed past without notice, one of his legs buckled and his arms were too weak to keep him from collapsing completely, sending him back to the ground with a weak elk-like scream. Lucifer weakly turned his head toward the sound, but couldn't move to help him. Husk - still being hugged by Cherri and Angel Dust - instinctively turned toward the overlord that owned his soul, but couldn't wriggle free even if he wanted to. And - of course - Charlie paid him no attention, leaving him panting for breath where he'd fallen. Tears seeped from his eyes, passed the strained smile, and dripped onto his torn coat. His face was trying so desperately hard to relax that the glowing green stitches holding it in place were once again visible, pulling at the edges of his grin.
Lucifer was rapidly losing consciousness only a few meters away, his breathing almost as unsteady as Alastor's, if quieter. They were both quickly losing blood, and far too much of it. Gold mingled with red on the dark pavement, a gruesome but shockingly beautiful swirling painting forming between the Overlord and the King. Alastor watched for a moment, panting heavily and pressing his still-bleeding arm to the reopened wound in his chest while the other wrapped firmly around his staff. His shadow swirled weakly around him, just corporeal enough to steady him as he pushed upright again, staggering the short distance to the fallen King before once again falling to his knees.
The panel in the ground where Lucifer had emerged was still open, but a quick swat from Alastor's shadow slammed it closed as the Radio Demon rolled the fallen angel onto his side so he could breathe. If the white suit hadn't been torn by the wires stabbing into Lucifer, it would have been nearly impossible to tell where the massive amounts of blood were coming from. A quick glance confirmed that most of the demons - including some of the hotel residents - had already left or were in the process of doing so. Charlie was cheering excitedly, although Emily had disappeared into the portal with the other Heavenly representatives and Vaggi looked distinctly uncomfortable beside her.
"We did it! We did it, babe!" Alastor heard Charlie squeal, almost jumping up and down in her excitement. A flicker of anger joined the burning pain in his chest and he cast a glare in her vague direction.
"Is she... is she still mad at me?" Lucifer whispered faintly where he was still laying in front of the deer demon.
"I don't know, sire. It's hard to tell from here. Although she has an annoying habit of blaming the victim sometimes, so she might try to make it seem like this is your fault simply because it was your power." Lucifer's face fell, but a red claw tapped at his cheek insistently until his attention returned to Alastor. "If she says anything along those lines, she's wrong. Vox forced that power out of you. You had no control. You would've had to gather your power to try to escape, and he'd only be able to leech it away faster if you brought it all together for him."
"Thanks, Red Guy," Lucifer whispered, his consciousness once again fading rapidly.
Alastor let his shadows take his staff from him, sliding his now-freed arm across Lucifer's back, careful to avoid his wings, then lifted until the King's limp form was pressed against his side. A bit of adjustment, and he was upright, his injured arm blazing with pain as he shifted to hold Morningstar more securely. He only made it eight steps before he had to lean heavily against a piece of fallen debris to catch his breath before he could keep moving, his legs trembling under him. He'd lost his shoes at some point, although his hooves still had plenty of traction on the uneven ground. His next attempt brought them another fourteen steps closer to the hotel before he had to stop again, his breath rattling and wheezing in his lungs. He'd probably at least fractured some ribs when Vox threw him into those cars and buildings, possibly even broken them. Another twelve steps. Then fifteen. Then ten. Then thirteen. He was hardly letting himself rest by that point. If he stood still too long, he wasn't sure he'd be able to convince himself to keep moving forward.
If someone had wanted to, they could have hypothetically taken out both the King of Hell and the strongest Overlord in the Pride Ring all in one attempt, but - even as Alastor shuffled down the main road back to the hotel with Lucifer's slight weight far too heavy in his arms, sinners parted to let them through. A few inclined their heads respectfully, although the Radio Demon's eyes were too glassy with pain and shock to notice, and the King remained unconscious throughout the trek. The streets were unnaturally quiet, every eye turning to watch the gruesome procession instead of the nearest fight - many of which were put on mutual hold as they passed.
Alastor made it a complete twenty-seven steps before his leg gave out under him. His shadows - though weakened - leapt to catch him even as the nearest sinner did the same. Red and gold blood alike dripped to the pavement underfoot, some from Alastor's mouth. Someone steadied his arms around Lucifer, while another helped him back to his feet and yet another waited with arms outstretched to steady him should he collapse again. His breath wheezed audibly, and - though his grin was strained and he was vaguely glaring at everything that moved - he managed to incline his head in thanks before shakily continuing forward, the sinners who had leapt forward once again stepping back. His shadow flitted about anxiously, not corporeal enough to take the weight of the King itself.
The hotel gates were closed when Alastor finally reached them, and - if he had the breath left in his lungs to do so - he would have screamed in exhausted frustration. Instead, he let both knees buckle, still cradling Lucifer close to his chest even as he hit the ground. He didn't register Niffty and Husk and Angel Dust running toward them. He didn't notice the sinners who had been following him running closer as though to force the gates open themselves. He didn't hear his name being shouted from the three residents, or even when his shadow caught him weakly as he listed to one side. He only reacted when someone tried to lift Lucifer from his arms, tightening his hold and snapping at them with his teeth.
"It's us, Boss. We're here to help," Husk's voice said from the other end of a long tunnel, and Alastor blinked at him until he swam into focus, his arms loosening so he could watch the bird protectively gather the King and carry him toward the front doors, just as Lucifer finally stirred.
"Red Guy?" he called out weakly. Husk paused, looking back at where the Overlord had lifted his head, his gaze once again clearing with determination, then looked down at the King again.
"We'll fix him right up. Might even put you in a room together so neither of you hurt yourselves more looking for the other," he grumbled after a moment, just loud enough for Angel Dust to hear where the spider was lifting Alastor in all six of his arms. Angel nodded, and Niffty closed the gates behind them before scrambling to catch up, only slightly distracted by the blood trail she would have to clean up eventually.