That was it. That was the last bit of Valentino's fight in him. As the radio demon ruthlessly eviscerated him, a guttural cry reverberated off the halls of the club. The blade in his hand fell to the stage with a clang and the king fell silent. His secondary hands clutched desperately at his opened wound trying in vein to stuff his entrails back inside like some busted party pinata.

The encouraging nudge from the murder deer coupled with the blood chilling scream, Angel lifted his head for the first time since the slaughter started. It all hit him like some bad trip. The sight of the demon slurry that coated the floor didn't shock him. Death was just a part of life down here. Hell, he's killed and murdered countless tortured souls himself. But the sight of his abuser defiled in such a gruesome way sent a shiver down his spine. His emotions were muddied through his drug filled haze. Was he excited? Scared?... Sad? Regardless of how much he fucking hated the limp dick bastard now, he couldn't deny the feelings he once held for the asshole. To see someone he thought to be untouchable brought to their knees... It really struck a cord on how powerful Alastor really was. So fucking hot. But there was that lingering fear that clawed at the back of Angel's mind. Alastor was only one man. And he just kicked the beehive of the Three Vs. No way that they would ignore this transgression against one of their own.

Releasing the deer, Angel staggered over to Alastor to drape his arms over him, burying his face into his hair. "I want to go home, Alastor."