Chapter Text
Alastor
Alastor didn't come back until he could stand without being in excruciating pain. When Adam attacked the others, they knew he was at least severely hurt, so he couldn't keep that secret, but he wasn't going to let them actually see him that weak.
And so he hid and healed. It wasn't a good look for him, as the big, scary radio demon, but it was a calculated risk he took since he'd be able to quickly regain his dangerous image.
What Alastor hadn't expected was for his wound to just stop healing. It had been a month by this point and the injury still looked like it did when he first came back.
He thought that since it had been healing, that it would continue to and wouldn't be a problem. Except that it was a problem now, and it was a big one.
He could only grow in size a little bit and hold his radio dial eyes for a short time before the pain became too much. So much for being able to easily build up his image again. He could still use his tentacle magic and shadow travel, for the most part, so he had that going for him.
Rosie was the one he went to to patch him up initially (Alastor had too much blood loss to stay conscious and so needed someone else to do the stitches), and while she can tear apart a body with admirable efficiency, she doesn't know much about how to fix one. That meant Alastor couldn't go to Rosie again because she wouldn't have any insight on the problem.
Mimzy was definitely out of the question, and while he adored Niffty, she couldn't be trusted to help with an injury. Alastor hated that he needed help, so since his few friends couldn't help, he decided he would keep going like it wasn't a problem. He didn't want anyone in the hotel to know anyway so it was totally fine. He just had to change his bandages every few hours.
Except one day when his pain got inexplicably worse and he blacked out in the hallway. When he woke up, he was in someone else's room.