Alastor clung onto the shredded shirt, feeling like he was perpetually falling. Draining, and cold... he hasn't felt like this in a while. The heat coiled in his belly burned until enough blood was drawn, faster than Alastor could heal himself.

If his throat was still intact, he might have sighed in pleasure. But he did need to get Lucifer out of this before he died and had to spend who knows how long regenerating and reviving.

With his index finger, Alastor's claw tapped at Lucifer's shoulder. And from the radio came Alastor's voice, with a single word, "Paillasse."