After The Battle

Chapter Two: Nightmare.

NOTE: As of 10/2/24 this chapter has been edited to add more and/or change parts to fit with the current story or fix old spelling/grammar problems

With this update I have to add a warning for violence!!

Alastor ran as fast as he could, it was too dark to see what lies ahead, or how many were chasing him, but the sounds of howling and growling echoed throughout the dead silent forest, any other creatures no doubt hiding from the predators currently running after the blood and dirt covered man.
   The branches of the trees scratched up against his face and arms temporarily slowing him down as he tried the push them away. He kept running. What's a few scrapes and bruises compared to the prospect of death behind him?

His breathing was quick and clearly strained as he gasped and panted, his only thoughts being the need to get away from the hungry wolves chasing him.
   "Oh- SHIT-" Alastor tripped over the roots of a large tree and tumbled into a ditch, rocks and fallen branches tore at his white dress shirt and brown vest and snatched his glasses off his face, he grunted as he finally stopped moving.
"Fuck-" His arms trembled as he pushed himself back up, he squinted his eyes as he looked for his glasses, his heart racing as the crunching of branches and growling could sounded around him, his head snapped up, grey blurs circling him in the darkness, illuminated by the moon.

He stood up, stumbling slightly, racking his mind for something- anything to get him out of this mess. He could see a yellow eyed blur lung at him and he raised his arm defensively screaming in pain as he felt sharp, slobbery teeth tear through his sleeve and sink into his flesh, drawing blood.
It wasn't long before a group of wolves was mauling him, tearing off his flesh, clawing his skin and ripping him apart. He did his best to pull away, to scream out, to be free. Suddenly he heard a click and then-

𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙜

Alastor shot up in his bed, his eyes wide and ears flattened against hisskull, he immediately winced in pain, hand going to his chest. He looked down to see the bandages soaked in blood once again and got up with a sigh.
   He looked out the red tinted, jagged, floor to ceiling windows of his room, the red sky of hell was dark, it was either still night or early morning.
Alastor opened the window and felt the cool air on his skin, heard the sound of gunshots and screaming, just loud noises in general from below as usual, it was hell, after all, you get used to it. He closed his eyes and listened, trying to calm his racing heart.

These nightmares.... They have been becoming more frequent.... All about his past, about his death. '𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦!?' Alastor had asked himself more than once, yet no answer ever came to him. His past had always haunted him, of course, everyone's haunted by their past in hell. But it was certain moments, like his death, that just kept playing.

He groaned and closed the window trudging back to the bathroom for the second time in only a few hours.
   He took his bandages off and quickly glanced at the wound with an uninterested expression, reaching for the bandages-
Wait...
He did a double take and looked at the gash through the mirror, this time for more than 2 seconds.
"You've got to be kidding me..." he muttered under his breath. The gash had become bigger, like, noticeably bigger, it had spread down his side more.
    Well, that explains the excessive bleeding and pain. Alastor growled softly and he re-wrapped the wound, there was no way this would heal properly or quickly by itself or with his own magic, he needed help... Perhaps an Angel's magic, or something close to one...