"It seems we're nearing the end of our story, pal." Alastor wasn't drunk, but he was certainly more relaxed now. Though, he was now openly crying.
"This is the good part, isn't it? The climax of the show. The main event." He smiled, and his cheeks quivered, struggling to maintain the curve. Choking out a sob, he covered his mouth instinctively.
"Oh.. Angel. Oh, Angel! Angel..." Rising up, he couldn't keep his composure. His friend stood up as well, following right behind him in the luminescence of the diner's light.
Alastor didn't sleep. There was no time to rest, nor did he feel a need for it. Even so, his body felt exhausted, his mind aching, heart throbbing, and his features twitching. Sitting on the bed, he ruined the expensive sheets and carpet with a deep red, and very obvious stench of prey. It was only at this he felt some semblance of satisfaction. He killed them all. But, this would never give him the closure he needed. There was something else that needed to be done.
The door opened quietly, in an attempt to be stealthy.
At first, a gasp.
"Al'? You're still up...?"
"..."
A scream.
Three heads rolled onto the ground as Alastor stood up. His eyes were wide, tear stricken, and his teeth showed off their fullest length as he showed his most passionate smile.
Angel tried to run, but the door was immediately shut by a tendril. The static filled the room as black enveloped every inch of the room. Gripping his microphone, he spun it like a baseball bat, laughing excitedly. Winding up, a loud, dooming wave of sound blasted in the room, akin to a crowd of demons cheering, yet at an extremely lowered pitch.
"Are you READY for this HOMERUN?!"
Sitting over the edge of the roof, he sighed, staff beside him, and a bottle on the other side. Looking over to hid friend, his eyes lowered slightly, he smiled.
"What happened next?"
His shadow only smiled.
"I saw him dead."