He appeared from the shadows suddenly, looking a little pale, with a hand to his chest. "Apologies my dear, I have some personal matters I must attend to. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She was ready to dismiss him but her eyes caught the dark patch slowly seeping through his coat around his hand. Her eyes widened in realization. She met his eyes knowing exactly where he was going. "Don't. Alastor, let me help you."

With a grimace on his face he disappeared into the shadows.

"You son of a bitch." She muttered under her breath. How was she going to get out of the ballroom without being seen? Not all the guests had left yet and she didn't quite blend in very well. Her frustration grew. For blood to seep through that quickly it had to be a large wound. How the hell did he get it? Did it happen just now? If not, how long had he had it? Would he have told someone? She raked her brain trying to find someone he may trust enough with that kind vulnerability. Rosie maybe? She wouldn't be able to get a hold of her. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fuck it"

She pulled her dress up so she wouldn't trip over it. She took the stairs down from the balcony and just ran, grateful she had decided on the chucky heels instead of stilettos. She didn't know how many demons she sprinted past but no one said a word.

She took the main staircase two steps at a time while trying to decide if it would be faster taking the stairs or waiting for the elevator. One quick look above the elevator door told her it was close to the top floors. Stairs it was.

By the time she got to the top floor she was out of breath and her feet now hurt. She pushed the thought away and marched right up to Alastor's door. She banged on the door loudly. "If you don't let me in, I swear to God I will kick this door down Alastor!" No response. She tried the handle but as she suspected it was locked. Could she actually kick the door in? She'd never done anything like that before. She thought about taking her heels off but figured it may be best to leave them on. Bare feet would probably hurt a lot more. She took a small step back from the door. She tried shaking off her nerves, mentally preparing herself. She could do this. Maybe not on the first try, but if she worked up enough anger it should work, right? She just needed to hit just under the handle. She let out a few quick breaths.

She hit exactly where she intended but pain still radiated up her leg. She didn't bother trying to see if she'd made any damage, going to strike the door again.

"If you're going in there to give him hell, I can just let you in." An amused voice sounded from behind her. Turning she found Lucifer standing there with his arms crossed. She let out a frustrated breath. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

A smirk played on the king of hell's face. "Alright, I won't tell if you don't." And with a quick wave of his hand the door clicked open. She didn't even thank him, just turned and marched in closing and locking it behind her.

She had never been in his room before. It looked lovely except for the swamp that seemed to open up from the back of the room. Weird choice but to each their own she guessed. A quick glance around the room she found a trail of blood and clothes leading to a door off the back right of the room. He had removed his jacket, vest and tie before making it to, what she assumed was the bathroom. She moved to the door and found it too was locked. She groaned. She could kick it open, but it would most likely hit him on the other side.

"Alastor." She wasn't yelling anymore, but there was still a snap in her voice. "Just open the door. Please?" To her surprise there was a soft 'click'. She turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open.

Alastor was laying on his back on the floor. Beside him was a glass with an amber liquid and a bottle of booze. His shirt was stained heavily with blood.

She shook her head confused. Her face scrunched up. "You're going to just sit here and get drunk?"

He barely lifted his head to look at her at the door. His hand grabbed the glass where it was beside him and raised it to a silent toast to her and downed whatever was left in the glass.

She rolled her eyes before kneeling beside him pulling her long gloves off and setting them on the floor beside her. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but before she could make contact his hand grabbed hers, stopping it. "No" his voice was pained but stern.

A look of disapproval passed her face. "Then you can do it."

He shook his head and let go of her hand turning to pour himself another large helping of what she could see now was rye whiskey. "I'm quite fine looking after myself."

Ellen sputtered a laugh, the sarcasm dripping from every word. "Yeah, I can really see that."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't need your help."

Her anger was coming back. "So you were going to just leave me stranded up on that balcony with the false promise of returning. What a gentleman."

He didn't respond, just looked away sipping his whiskey. She hit that soft spot again. Good.

Ellen pushed on. "If you aren't going to look after yourself properly then at least let me look at it. As a thank you for a lovely evening in your company."

His glare came back, jaw clenched, but the smile although tight lipped, ever present, "No."

Ellen crossed her arms annoyed at his stubbornness. "Fine. I'll just sit here with you until you inevitably pass out and do it anyway."

He sat up, his eyes turned black, the pupils radio dials. His antler started growing in length and the air around him seemed to become darker, sigils appeared around him. The room filled with static and screeching.

Ellen wasn't sure if she was horrified or amazed. She was a bit surprised she wasn't afraid. It was clear he was trying to frighten her but he couldn't seem to hold it. His hand went back to his chest gasping in pain. Stubborn as a mule. She rolled her eyes.

"So, are you going to swallow your pride and let me help because I have all night. My date for the evening abandoned me." She glared at him.

"Fine" he gritted through clenched teeth. "But you won't be able to fix it." He downed his glass of rye before moving to unbutton his shirt.

Ellen was not prepared for what was underneath. He had bandages loosely wrapped around his torso that had been bleed through. It was clear whatever this injury was, it was pretty bad. She carefully removed the soiled bandages and took a look at the wound. Every slight touch of skin caused him to flinch. She tried to keep it to a minimum.

It was a long deep gash from left shoulder to right hip. And it looked fresh, blood still lightly seeping. Her eyes widened. She could not fix this. He was right about that. This was way over her head. Did hell have hospitals? She could only stare, unable to figure out what to do first. She blinked blankly for a few seconds. First she'd need to clean the cut. Close it and then bandage it again.

Her eyes moved around the bathroom looking for things she'd need. She grabbed some towels and moved the bottle of rye out of Alastor's reach. He probably had enough at this point. She also grabbed his now empty glass and gave it a quick rinse in the sink before filing it with water. She quickly washed her hands. She turned to find that Alastor had grabbed the bottle of the rye, not bothering with the glass anymore, drinking deeply.

"Hey! I need that!" She quickly snatched it out of his hand. She gave him a look before bringing the bottle to her lips, taking a quick drink. It burned all the way down. She hated hard liquor, but she needed something for her nerves. "I need it as a disinfectant."

He raised an eyebrow but remained silent. She set it further out of his reach kneeling back at his side looking back at the wound. She went to touch it but stopped when he flinched. This would be more than a light touch.

"I'm going to make sure there's nothing in the tissue. This is going to suck." She looked at him, eyes asking permission. She handed him a small rolled up towel when she got a confused look she explained . "It's to bite down on." With a small nod she continued. She tried really hard not to think about the fact she had her bare hands in his chest pulling out gold flakes and a few clumps of old stitches. How many times had he stitched this thing closed? She gagged a few times, but managed to keep herself composed. It was impossible to ignore the screeching static and grunts of pain. His eyes were pressed shut, though based on the lack of control of his antlers, she assumed his eyes were surely the same, flipping between red and black.

She started out hesitant, a bit unsure if it was smart what she was doing. Being in pain, it would be easy for him to lash out, probably kill her in a second, and she couldn't push that thought back. After a few minutes she pushed the fear aside. The sooner she finished the better for both of them.

When she was satisfied that the wound was clean and she pulled her hands up holding them far above him. "Okay a quick flush and I can try closing it up."

"I can't" his voice was broken and face was unnaturally pale. "Rest"

"I can't move you like this. It's not even closed." Her thoughts raced through her head so fast looking for something, anything that may be useful in this moment. Overlords gained power through deals. If she made a deal with him right now, would it help?

She held her hand out. "Let's make a deal. Whatever you need to regain strength. Name your price."

"If only I could." he mumbled.

"Stop being stubborn Alastor."

"I can't…" He took a strained breath, shaking his head. "I need rest. Some flesh would help greatly."

A shiver ran up her spine. Flesh? Where would she get that? Was there a part of her she was okay giving up? Some toes? Nope. No. She was not going down the road. There had to be something. The human body didn't regrow anything. She could live with one kidney. Except there was no way to get it without probably killing herself in the process. Blood. The body could replace blood. Would that even work?

This was insane. She quickly poured some of the rye on to a clean towel and lightly wiped the cut to sanitize it. After a few times of resoaking the towel she lost her patience and just dumped rye from the bottle straight into the wound. Alastor let out a strangled cry and then became still. Very still.

"Oh shit!" She pressed her fingers to his neck. There was a heart beat still, but he was out cold. A small rush of relief. She quickly dabbed the excess rye from the cut before wiping her brow. Finally it was cleaned.

She could probably sew him shut while he was unconscious. She realized her hands were shaking, still covered in the demon's blood. Maybe she would need to wait before she would continue. Settle her nerves first. She stood and washed her hands. This dress was ruined, blood all down the front. His blood was much darker than what she expected. She pulled her shoes off and took them out to the main room, by the fireplace she left her long gloves there too. Did she try to move him? Is he heavy? He was two feet taller than her. Maybe she'd try.

Back in the bathroom she slipped a hand under his legs, the other around his back. She mentally prepared herself and stood. To her surprise she was successful. It was a strain, but she was fairly confident she could get him to his bed. She didn't bother trying to remove anything else. While he was resting she went back to clean up the bathroom. There wasn't much left of the whiskey. She downed what was left. When she felt she was no longer a shaking mess she grabbed a needle and thread and moved back to Alastor.

He looked a little less pale, but still unwell. He stirred, eyes slowly opening. She moved away, giving him space. She didn't want him to lash out at her being so close. She still wasn't sure what he was capable of.

"Oh good you're still here." He seemed a little too happy. "Both of you! Oh what fun!" His smile split his face, but his eyes said a different story.

Ellen looked around. It was only her. Her shoulder slumped. He was drunk. Uhhggg.

He tried to sit up and she quickly closed the gap between them, her hand pushing him back to lying down. "No, you need rest."

He tried his best to pout with the never ending smile. "I need to go hunt."

"Not like that you're not."

"Well I need something. Why does my chest hurt…" he looked down at the gash, that still hadn't been sewn shut. His eyes widened. "Oh…. That doesn't look very good, does it?" He glanced over at her. "You're dressed too elegantly to be a nurse."

Ellen bit her tongue.

His brows furrowed. "I suppose I've ruined the rest of this evening, haven't I?"

Ellen focused on trying to thread the needle, she never was good at this kind of stuff. "I would give it a solid seven out of ten. I definitely don't think I will pursue a career as a doctor now, this was good enough for me. And despite some stubbornness, you've been nothing but a proper gentleman."

He looked pleased with that answer. "The night is still young, my dear."

"Yeah, I need to close up that gash in your chest first."

He waved a hand in dismissal. "It won't do anything I'm afraid. I've been trying to close it for a while now."

She put the needle and thread down. "What? How long is a while?"

"A good meal will do me well enough." He moved to sit up again before he shrank back clutching his chest.

Ellen bit her lip. She was going to regret this. Everything in her told her to keep her mouth shut. "Would blood be enough?"

"Hmm?"

"Blood? Cause I'm not offering any of my fingers or toes. I need those."

His head swayed from side to side, seemingly thinking.

"I suppose it's better than nothing. Are you sure you want to do that?"

No. "I'll be fine. When you're back to your chipper old self we can talk about favours."

"Ooooo I like deals! We should make one."

"Uh no. You're going to have uh…." She couldn't find any better words. "A little drink." She shuddered as she said it. "…And then you're going to rest."

He tried to pout again. "But deal making is such fun. It can be something small. Oh! You bring me another bottle of rye and I tell you anything you want to know. Enticing isn't it?" He was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused on her. "I know a lot of things."

"No."

"Well maybe I was asking her." He pointed to an empty space beside her.

She brought a hand to her face. If only he had stayed out for five more minutes. Five minutes. She cursed under her breath then pointed a finger at Alastor. "Stay. I'm going to go find something sharp."

"If you're looking to cut flesh my claws would do so wonderfully." His grin was devious.

She just held her arm out. "One simple cut. You get some…blood and then bed, for the both of us. It's been a long night." The last part was barely above a whisper.

"You know, this is a terrible idea, my dear. I'm weakened enough that if I start, I may not have the control to stop until you're as dry as a bone." He moved so quickly she hadn't realized what he had done until her arm started to sting a thin red line now opened on her forearm.

She swallowed nervously. "Then, don't get to that point?"

He laughed, "Not on purpose of course my dear, I do enjoy your company far too much to kill you. I suppose you could say I consider you a close friend but I'm a little drunk so anything can happen." The last part sounded sing-songy.

They hadn't really spent much time together. For him to say she was a friend seemed odd. Though she couldn't deny she really enjoyed his company that evening. It was almost like he was a different person. Or maybe he did really just enjoy her company? He was being nice to her earlier on through the week. What did she do to get this attention she was unsure. She was also unsure if this was a good thing.

Shaking, she pushed her arm toward him and he gently wrapped a hand around her wrist. Her heart was racing. This had to be a mistake right? This would be her demise. He brought his lip to the cut and started sucking very slowly. After a moment his eyes turned black and he started pulling harder. She gasped in pain, her body instinctively trying to pull away from him. "HEY!" She wrenched her arm away.

His smile shot chills down her spine, blood on his teeth and lips, eyes looking manic, but still a bit inebriated. "You are quite a delectable sample my dear. I must say I don't recall a flavor quite like yours. I can only imagine what your flesh would taste like."

Blood was dripping down her arm and off her elbow. She quickly wrapped her other hand around the cut, hoping to stop the bleed. Her eyes followed a droplet run off her arm and fall, landing into Alastor's open cut. "God. Damn it." Now it would need to be sanitized again…except she finished off the whisky.

A second drop followed the first and she watched in horror as his flesh closed around the droplet of her blood almost like his body had consumed it. A hiss escaped from Alastor's lips. Was her blood regenerative? She unclasped her arm. The cut was still open and weeping. What the hell was going on? She moved her arm so the blood dripping off would land along the wound, which seemed to be closing itself with each drop she donated. It must have been painful, because every drop had a groan accompanying it, his nails clutching the bedding beneath him like his life depended on it. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn't imagining it. This couldn't be real, right? Apparently it was.

Ellen cycled her arm between feeding Alastor and his wound a few times. He wasn't as forceful this time. She was sure her arm would be bruised pretty badly by the end of it, but if she could close this wound completely, then Alastor would be able to be back to his full strength. It was never her motive and she would never ask but she knew he would try to reward her accordingly.

She was just about half way finished, the blood trickled off her arm, making the demon squirm underneath her more.

"Stop!"

"I'm almost done this section, a little mo-"

A moan escaped his lips. She froze, arm still dripping. She had to have heard wrong.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing quick shallow pants. His face was red, almost glowing in embarrassment. Could it be red from pain?

"Please don't." A shuddering breath. "Stop."

It was Ellen's turn to have her cheeks go pink. Oh she prayed he was drunk enough to not remember this. Surely it had to be a mix of exhaustion, alcohol and pain. Just finish closing the wound and she would make a break for it, she could get her shoes later.

The wound was only about 6 inches in length now, by his hip. She moved her arm struggling to block out the sounds from Alastor. This whole time she thought he was in pain, turns out it was…She swallowed quickly, panicking. This whole evening she had been in over her head, doing things she had no idea about. She didn't know how to suture a wound closed, she didn't know anything about demon anatomy and yet here she was trying anyway.

She should have started from the hip, now she felt uncomfortably close to his lower region. She felt her insides tremble. This was a level of vulnerability she had never thought possible from the Radio Demon. If he found out about this, he would have to silence her no doubt. She shook the thought off. Another moan escaped Alastor and she was thankful he seemed to really be trying to keep himself quiet. Static and buzzing was filling the room, slowly getting louder and more erratic. Then she saw it. His full salute. Her cheek burned and she quickly moved her eyes back to Alastor's wound. She was not going to close it all tonight, her head starting to feel fuzzy.

She wished with every fiber of her being that she could say she was horrified, disgusted, turned-off, afraid. But the idea of making this man squirm with such delight under her, without laying a finger on him? She hated it. She loved it. Uhhggg she felt dirty. She had always enjoyed making people squirm in pleasure, it made her feel powerful. She ignored the pent up feeling in her groin.

There was still a bit left, but with the added hip movements and thigh squeezing from Alastor, she had surpassed her comfort level. What was left was small enough anyways. She wasn't sure she could stand the sounds anymore either. She shifted her gaze to Alastor's face. He still had his eyes pinched close, hands still clutching the bedding for life, his face still pink under a sheen of sweat.

Ellen was sure that she could leave him and he would be fine. Although she was still willing to try one more thing. She definitely didn't want to face him right now, though she knew he wouldn't remember it. He needed something to eat and it would need to be…flesh.

She made her way down to the kitchen. The hotel was quiet, dark and empty. She was grateful, she didn't want to chat anyway. Her head was still fuzzy from the blood loss but also from the chaos of the past hour or so. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was starting to feel tired. She went straight to the first-aid kit, wrapping her arm and cleaning herself up a bit.

A simple soup would be easy to make. She filled a pot with water, adding some herbs and spices to start on a broth. Once that was set she decided she would move to the part she was going to hate the most. She grabbed an apron by the door and tied it around her waist. Smiling at how odd she must look still in her formal attire. She went to the fridge and pulled out a bag labeled 'Alastor'. She hated that there was no way of pretending it was some sort of meat, with obvious limbs and body parts of some type of demon. She pulled out an arm and resealed the bag putting it back into the fridge. Did it need to be cooked? Surely it must, no one would be crazy enough to eat it raw, right? Well… Alastor probably would… She shook the thought.

She grabbed a knife and slowly cut it into pieces. She wasn't very well versed in the kitchen so while she was thorough, she was quite slow. It was easier to pretend it wasn't a person once it was cut up and no longer looked like an arm. She did have to take a few breaks to shake off the nerves but eventually got it all cut up. She turned on a second burner and grabbed a frying pan. While it was heating up, she sampled the broth and with a pinch of salt she was happy with it, adding the noodles she started a little bit ago. She grabbed a few chunks of 'meat' and threw them into the pan, they started to sizzle instantly. It would probably be okay if it was a bit undercooked, though she had no way of knowing what cooked flesh would look like.

After a few minutes of cooking she started to gag. The smell was horrendous. Oh god what did she do? She quickly pulled the frying pan off the stove, but it didn't help much, the smell had already permeated the air. She started choking from the smell, quickly moving to the door that led to the back of the hotel. She needed air. Once outside she couldn't help but vomit. Why did she think it was a good idea to cook it? She remembered being told that the smell of burning flesh was terrible. Why would this have been any different?

After a few minutes of fresh air she put on a brave face and re-entered the kitchen. The smell was still rather pungent, but she quickly grabbed the fry pan, took it out back and tossed the whole thing into the dumpster. Alastor was going to get raw flesh.

She took the rest of the cold 'meat' and added it to the soup, simmering the pot for another 10 minutes, while she cleaned up. Once it was ready she poured the soup and placed it on a tray to take back upstairs. There was enough for two large bowls so hopefully Alastor would be hungry.

After grabbing a spoon, she took the tray and made her way back upstairs. She was glad the door was still open, not thinking of leaving it ajar when leaving. He was passed out asleep when she entered, placing the soup on the stand by the bed. The colour in his face looked almost normal and to her surprise, the smile remained. This guy really did, never stop smiling.

A tired smile crept onto her face as she watched him sleep. He looked at peace. She snuck over to her shoes and gloves by the fireplace to collect them before making her way out. She did stop to see if she could take a bit of a look at his wound, just to double check it was still looking okay. She carefully closed the door behind her heading down the hall to her room. She threw her shoes and gloves just inside the door. She was too tired to do anything else tonight. She stripped out of her dress, adding it to the pile before going to the bathroom to wash her face.

She looked pretty rough. Her face was pale with her makeup smeared everywhere. There were a few spots of dried blood smeared on her face as well but she had no way of knowing if it were hers or Alastor's. The longer she looked at herself the more tired she felt. She needed rest. She looked over to the shower trying to convince herself it would be best to do that before bed, but her exhaustion got the better of her. She could wait until morning. Once her face was washed she made her way to bed. She wasn't sure if her head hit the pillow before she was asleep.