Chapter Text
The walk to the open-air parking lot was uneventful beyond the stares and comments Chas was getting better at ignoring. Zed was less comfortable, but maybe that was good, a sign that she hadn’t been around John enough to have her sense of dignity slowly ground away.
It wasn’t until they reached their destination that they met their next serious obstacle.
John wasn't going to fit in the cab of truck.
“If the windows were rolled down, he could…” Zed shook her head. “Never mind.”
“We could rent a van,” Chas said, trying not to think about how it would have to be in his name, or what the likelihood would be that something terrible would happen to it. “If we can’t find a cargo type, folding the seats down might work.”
"Think you’re overlooking the obvious solution here." John gave a dramatic flap of his wings.
It took Chas a moment to realize he wasn't just being expressive.
"No," Chas said.
"Can you actually fly?" Zed asked.
“‘Can I fly’ she asks.” John rolled his eyes. "Of course, I can bloody fly. I'm not a sodding emu."
"No," Chas repeated, dread becoming an ever increasing weight in his stomach.
"While that’s one option,” Zed said, diplomatically, which was the exact opposite of how the subject of John being airborne needed to be handled, “you’d get there before us, and we want to keep the element of surprise."
“That’s not what you mean though, is it, love?” John shifted his grip on his bag, and the jacket he’d insisted on bringing even though he had no feasible way of wearing it. "You don't want me arriving without the cavalry, fair enough." He lifted his chin toward the truck bed. "I’ll ride in the back."
“No,” Chas said. It seemed to be the only word he had left.
John shifted his gaze to Chas, his head tilting in a way that seemed to say that he knew he was right, but he’d give Chas a moment to catch up.
Chas heard a low growl and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from him.
“You could ride in the back with him, make sure everything goes alright," Zed offered. "I'll drive."
"Could use the company," John agreed.
Chas looked from the cocky half-smile on John’s face to the alarming lack of concern on Zed’s. There was no way this wasn’t going to end badly.
Grumbling, Chas snatched John’s bag from his arms as he went to unlock the passenger door. He tossed the keys to Zed before setting the bag down on the floor mat.
By the time Chas had retrieved the rope he kept in the glove box, Zed had already climbed into the driver’s seat and John…
John was standing proudly in the truck bed while passersby stared as if he were the main attraction on a parade float.
Chas repressed a sigh as he clambered up beside him.
John’s eyes went to the rope in Chas’ hands and an eyebrow quirked in question.
Chas ignored it. “Get over here.”
As soon as John was within reach, Chas wrapped the rope around his waist, knotting it securely.
John pushed his hips into the contact. “Got a bit of a game in mind?”
“Yeah, it’s called not getting sucked out of the back of the truck.”
Chas found himself on the receiving end of a soft smirk, but he did his best to keep his attention on the task at hand. He anchored the ends of the rope to either side of the cab so that there would be enough slack for John to move around, but hopefully not enough for him to fall over the edge.
“Keep your wings close to your body—you don’t want to risk gaining lift,” Chas said, trying not to notice the way John was beaming at him again, as if he thought Chas’ concerns were delightful.
Zed slid the back window open. “I need that address, John.”
John leaned in to comply, resting a hand on Chas’ hip as if he needed it to steady himself. Chas knew he didn’t, but he tolerated it anyway. He found John’s fingers to be steady and surprisingly gentle.
Zed entered the information into her phone. “It’s going to be a twenty-two minute drive, according to this.”
Twenty-two minutes was a lot longer than Chas would like. Plenty of time to get noticed by the police. Or worse.
As if sensing his thoughts, John turned toward Chas. “Could always give us a boost, yeah?” He fluttered his wings.
Chas rolled his eyes and John grinned as if that had been his goal all along.
Chas lowered himself down into the bed of the truck, the metal already cooling with the evening temperatures. He leaned his back against the cab and watched while John got into place.
It took several tries before John could find a workable position. He finally settled on kneeling—on his jacket, giving it a purpose after all—while facing the front and holding onto the ropes.
Zed accelerated slowly so as not to jostle them, but the shocks on the truck left much to be desired.
Chas never knew how John was going to react to minor inconveniences like this, whether he’d hunker down and bear them, or if he’d spend the entire time griping about unnecessary hardships. But tonight he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the motion and wind seemed to exhilarate him, and he tilted his head back as if savoring the feeling.
The fading light created patterns of shadows on John’s wings, and as they passed beneath the traffic signals, green and red hues shifted across the pale golden feathers. He really was breathtaking, if Chas ignored the curse part of it. And it was good to see John happy.
Chas refocused his attention on the passing cars, mentally rehearsing how he’d explain the winged man beside him to the police if they were stopped.
November was still relatively warm in New Orleans, but after a few moments, the night air and the wind began to work their way under Chas’ jacket. He hunched his shoulders inward, burying his hands in his pockets.
It was too bad John hadn’t been wearing his jacket when the wings had appeared—it had to be worse for him with only his thin white shirt to protect against the cold. Sure enough, John’s body language was becoming more compact, and Chas watched a shiver run through him.
“Wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t so skinny,” Chas said, but the wind whipped his voice away.
John looked at him blankly. “What?”
Chas just shook his head.
John shrugged and went back to watching the road. He was shivering harder now. Even his position was more exposed than Chas’ and the wings seemed to be creating a backflow that was making it worse.
Rather than waste time shouting explanations, Chas tapped John on the thigh to get his attention and motioned for him to come closer.
When John bent down toward him, Chas began rubbing his hands up and down John’s arms, trying to work some heat back into him.
John seemed surprised, but he caught on quickly and leaned into the touch. After a few moments he moved so his mouth was close to Chas’ ear.
“Could use more of that, mate.”
Chas snorted. “Does it look like I’m stopping?”
John inclined his head in the direction of Chas’ lap. “It’d make it easier. Just for the ride.”
There was no innuendo in his tone, as if he’d decided he’d benefit more from being on good behavior.
It was still the sort of thing Chas should say no to. Probably. If John’s arms hadn’t been covered in goosebumps and his fingers even icier than his regular smoker’s hands...
Chas’ nod was closer to a shrug, but it was enough for John, who immediately straddled his thighs, wrapping his arms around him loosely. His wings formed a partial canopy above them as he nestled into Chas’ chest.
John exhaled loudly as Chas’ hands resumed massaging wherever he could reach, and Chas chuckled lightly to himself. Briefly, his fingers traced the perfect oval openings in the shirt around the base of each wing. He didn’t know what they’d do if this wasn’t reversed before they needed to do laundry. Cutting the shirt off wouldn’t be much of a solution. They could try to scrub John down with it on, he supposed, and absently Chas wondered if the wings were self-cleaning.
John had become progressively more limp as Chas worked, groaning whenever something felt especially good, but then he pushed himself up, putting his lips close to Chas’ ear so he could be heard.
“You’re so good to me,” John said, his voice a low murmur, before he dropped his head down against Chas’ neck.
Chas was smiling. He knew he was, in spite of himself. He could feel it big and wide, and he probably looked like a fool—but that was ok. Just for this moment, because at least he knew that no one else could see it.
#
When the truck came to a stop, John slid off of Chas before Zed could see them. He gave Chas a quick conspiring grin, and it was so familiar Chas found himself returning it.
Not that they’d been doing anything that needed to be hidden from Zed, but, well, a lap-full of John would be challenging to explain.
John proved more adept at untying rope than shoelaces, and he quickly had himself free without Chas’ help. Chas found himself missing the chance to be of assistance, but he shook it off. It was ridiculous to want John to need him for everything.
Their destination turned out to be a small house with peeling paint and a porch that had become partially detached. None of the lights were on.
John lit a cigarette before depositing his coat in the front of the truck and retrieving his bag.
“We should talk about the plan,” Chas said. He’d intended on discussing it on the drive over, if their travel arrangements hadn’t made that impossible. “We can’t just barge in there.”
“Barging in is just a direct means to getting it sorted out,” John said, striding ahead of them, feathers buffeting Chas as he passed.
Zed gave Chas a sympathetic look before she cautiously followed John across the rickety porch.
Chas didn’t like this. Without his memories or self-awareness, John’s cockiness was significantly more likely to get them all killed.
When Chas caught up to John and Zed, he saw that the porch light wasn’t just off, but that the bulb had been smashed. Worse, the door to the house was ajar.
Zed leaned down to examine the busted lock and Chas made up his mind.
“Right,” John said. “Guess I’ll—”
Chas stepped in front of the others. “I’m going first.”
John frowned at him. “Noble as that is, seeing as you’re only human, it—” John’s argument was cut off abruptly as Chas stepped through the door.
Too abruptly for it to be anything other than magic.
The inside looked like what Chas would expect in an abandoned, rundown house, except for the total silence—not even the sound of insects or traffic penetrated the walls—and that there was a faint orange light coming from nowhere. He looked back and saw that no one was standing in the doorway. Definitely magic.
Hopefully, John would notice that Chas had disappeared, that something was wrong, and wouldn’t blindly follow him through—
“Got a bit of a listening problem, do we?” John said, appearing beside him.
Zed materialized next.
“The door’s a portal of some type,” Chas warned, even though it was too late.
“Of course it is,” John said.
Chas didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “We’re probably trapped.”
“Most likely.” John shrugged. “Now let’s go find the sod responsible.”
“Constantine?” A voice said from behind Chas.
Chas spun around, bracing for an attack, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Zed do the same.
A small thin man was sitting cross-legged on the counter, and Chas was certain he hadn’t been there before. Slick oily hair hung in black chunks across his face, making his eyes hard to see. Thick long nails were crusted with something Chas didn’t want to identify.
He wasn’t human. Chas might be as knowledgeable as John, but he’d been around this stuff long enough to know that.
“John Constantine…” the man said the words slowly, as if he were savoring them. “In my trap?”
“If that’s what you call this.” John nodded at their surroundings.
“You don’t remember me.”
Chas watched uncertainty flicker across John’s features. This was bad. This was exactly why they should’ve come up with a plan.
“We know you’ve been distributing candy that changes people,” Zed said, stepping forward.
The man didn’t respond, instead he leaned first one direction and then the other, as if seeking the best angle to appreciate John’s wings.
John looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but he seemed to shake it off.
“Why change people into what they spoke to?” John asked. “What was the sense in that?”
“To remind people what was important. To find what commands their attention. And let it consume them.”
John went still the way he did when something slid into place, some piece of knowledge that would become the workings of a plan. But then he relaxed again, the moment passing so quickly that Chas didn’t think anyone else had noticed.
“Except that’s a bloody random way to go about it,” John said.
The man allowed his shoulders to rise the slightest bit. “There’s poetry in your case.”
“I’m not a case.”
“You’re not an angel.”
“Don’t be daft.”
The man leaned forward, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop. When he spoke again his voice was almost affectionate.
“John Constantine: the human magician who damned a—”
“That doesn’t matter,” Chas said, placing himself between the man and John. “Look, we just need you to undo it. All of it.”
The man’s focus transferred to Chas, his grin widened, and there was something awful about it, like a snake distending its jaw. Chas felt a prickling up his spine, and he knew that this was one of those times where he was going to end up using a life.
Chas was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his arm. “What doesn’t matter?”
Chas looked down at John’s searching expression and felt his stomach sink.
“Just—all this talk. We’re wasting time while people could be getting hurt.” Chas could tell John didn’t believe him. As usual, he was far too good at being perceptive at all the wrong times.
John moved to the side of Chas to once again confront the man directly. “Well, are you going to tell me, or are we going to have a stab at twenty questions?”
Chas started, “John, don’t—”
“You’re destined to spend the rest of eternity in Hell,” the man said.
“Angels can’t enter Hell, not unless…” John’s expression changed as if he’d been struck. He glanced at Chas. “Am I fallen?”
“No, of course not,” Chas answered quickly. It wasn’t a lie, not really, and if it got that look off John’s face then that’s what was important. Now was not the time to have John fall apart.
“It’s true,” Zed said. “You’re not fallen.”
John’s brow remained creased, and for a moment Chas worried that he wouldn’t believe them, but then John shook his head.
“Don’t see why you’d think I’d take the word of…” John ran his eyes over the man, “someone not worth remembering over my nearest and dearest.”
“You don’t remember them either, not really. Or the time your screw up damned a little girl and took your soul along with it. Your memories are faulty at best while you’re playing angel, or else you’d know that you’re as far from divine as you can get.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Zed said, and John glanced back at her, but Chas couldn’t see his expression, only hers as it crumpled with dismay.
The man saw it too, and he extended his fingers, raking his nails lightly across the counter like a cat in the sun.
“Surrounded by bleeding skeptics,” John said, defeat in his voice. “Fine, if it’s proof you need, I have it right in here.” He began rummaging through his bag. “Give us a sec.”
The man’s focus was on John, and Chas took the opportunity to creep closer, his fingers dropping to his knife. When John showed him whatever proof he’d come up with this time, Chas would make his move. At best he could subdue him, and at worst, well maybe he could buy the others some time.
“Here it is.” John held out his hand, fingers curled over his palm.
The man bent down to get a closer look.
“See, what makes me an angel,” John said, opening his hand to reveal a pinch of shimmering blue dust, “is that I do righteous work.”
Recognition and alarm flashed across the man’s face, and he started to pull back, but not before John blew.
There was no cloud. No dispersal of particles into the air, instead it was like iron filings to a magnet as each speck adhered to their target.
Chas averted his eyes, unwilling to watch after the first of sticky specks began to open up, like a multitude of tiny devouring holes. He wished there was some way he could also block out the sounds.
When the creature was gone, John turned toward Chas, his bright, proud smile so incongruous with what he’d just done.
“Don’t know whether to be impressed with your acting skills, or be insulted you’d think I’d believe I was a human just because that prat said I was.”
“That was…” brutal. It wasn’t that killing someone—or something—wasn’t something either of them would be willing to do, but John, at least regular-John, wasn’t usually so quick about it. And he was much more likely to let the threat destroy itself, rather than do it directly.
John must have been able to sense Chas’ disquiet, for he moved closer, his expression becoming serious.
“He’s not actually dead, not sure if there is a way to do that.” John spread his hands out in concession.
“But if he’s not dead…” Chas’ eyes traced the arch of John’s wings. “Won’t the effects from a spell only go away if the caster reverses it or dies?”
“But lucky for us he wasn’t a magician, so the rules aren’t quite the same. And as soon as his essence dissipates, we’ll have—”
John lurched forward, gasping, and Chas caught him before he hit the ground.
“Chas—his wings,” Zed said, and there was as much hope as alarm in her voice.
Confused, Chas looked down and then he understood—they were gone. The back of John’s shirt was as smooth and unbroken as if nothing had ever been there.
John shuddered, but before Chas could react he was already being shoved away. John backed away from them, his dazed expression quickly morphing into one of comprehension.
“You alright?” Chas asked.
Something dark ripped through John’s eyes, too fast to identify before he masked it.
“Couldn’t be better.” John glanced around until he found the exit, and he began to back toward it. “That was Jedra. Trickster, purveyor of malevolence, and all around seedy bloke, and he’ll be spending the next decade gathering his particles from all the places I sent them.” There was a bitterness in how the last part was said, as if John thought that fate wasn’t unpleasant enough.
“Right,” John said, looking from Zed to Chas as if he was afraid one of them was going to say something. “Well, now that the ugliness is taken care of—I’m knackered out. I’ll be heading back to the hotel.” He pivoted and fled.
Zed took a step after him. “John—”
“Let him go,” Chas said.
“He seemed—”
“He’ll get over it.” Chas looked at Zed, but she didn’t appear convinced. “I’ll talk to him. Later.”
She shook her head, but slowly, as if she’d decided he was wrong but would let it go this once.
By the time they walked outside, John was nowhere in sight.
“I suppose he’ll find his own way,” Zed said.
Chas nodded absently, looking at the empty spot on the passenger’s seat where John’s jacket no longer was. “He usually does.”
#
Chas heard the alert on his phone just as he was raising his hand to knock on John’s door, and he stopped to pull it from his pocket.
It was pathetic how willing he was to use any excuse to delay this confrontation.
He opened the email and saw it was the pictures the teens had taken earlier that day. It was difficult to remember why he’d thought they’d be funny. Maybe eventually, but right now seeing John’s face so free of shadows was anything but.
The last one was the worst, the one of them together, where Chas had been too busy scowling to notice that, for all of John’s amusement, he was the one looking at Chas as if he were the light of his life.
He closed the file and slid his phone back into his pocket.
Chas still had John’s keycard, but he knew John would have had no trouble getting into the room anyway. Chas knocked on the door, but there was no answer—he didn’t expect John was eager to talk either—and after a short wait he let himself in.
John was sitting at the head of the bed, frowning down at his toes. At the sound of the door opening, he shifted to sit cross-legged and reached for a cigarette.
Chas made no comment. He noticed the bottle of whiskey on the end table but no glass beside it, so either John hadn’t started yet—or he intended to drink straight from the bottle.
Chas needed an innocuous way to break the tension. Anything had to be better than waiting.
“Guess it’s safe to put the lamps back now,” Chas said, and the way John’s face pinched he knew it had been the wrong thing. Christ, he was bad at this.
“There’s no need to look so bloody grim,” John said, snuffing his cigarette out, and then frowning down at it as if he’d forgotten he’d just started it. “Really, it’s good for a laugh. John-fucking-Constantine, an angel. Just the kind of story to tell over drinks.”
Chas retrieved the plastic-wrapped disposable cups from the sink and took them over to John. He poured them each a drink.
“It wasn’t funny,” Chas said as he sat beside John on the bed, “not under the circumstances.”
“It’d have been better if it was funny.” John sighed and took a long sip. “That’s the trouble with tricksters. They pretend there’s a moral lesson to be learned, but then go and throw so much chaos into the mix as to make it impossible…or fatal.”
Chas looked down into his cup, trying to think of how to lead into what he wanted to say. Not finding a good option, he took a swig for courage instead.
“So,” Chas said finally, “last time we were here—”
“Christ. You don’t have to bring that up.” John looked away sharply. “Look, I wasn’t myself.”
“But it wasn’t all bad. I mean, there were some parts you liked?”
The wrinkle in John’s brow went from puzzled to incredulous. “What like kissing you?”
Chas blinked at him for several seconds before he realized where this conversation was going wrong.
“No, about being an angel,” Chas corrected.
He watched John’s expression sour, just for a moment, just long enough for Chas to know he’d hit a sore spot.
“Can’t see why I would.” John made a show of taking a slow drag on his cigarette, as if he wasn’t the least bit interested in the conversation. “Wasn’t like it was an upgrade or anything. Who’d want to be a cloud junkie, anyhow?”
“Seemed like there were a few perks.” Chas shrugged, playing the game. “Having the power of Heaven on your side, being able to fly—possibly—and that whole get-out-of-Hell-free card.”
John gave him a look. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
Chas waited.
“Besides, none of that was what it was. It was…” John scrubbed a hand briskly over his forehead before shoving it back through his hair. “Oh hell, it was the conviction. The knowledge that I was always bloody well doing the right thing. My actions, my existence—all of it was blessed, destined to be—to be...” John snatched his drink off the table. “What does it bloody matter.”
John downed the rest of the cup in one pull, and he handed it back to Chas.
Chas refilled it and gave it back. “I’m sorry.” It felt inadequate, but he didn’t know what else to say.
John shook his head. “Don’t be bloody sorry, it wasn’t bloody real, and that can’t be good for anyone, pissing around, thinking they’ve got God’s big green go sign floating above everything they do. Turn anyone into a hopeless wanker.”
“Guess it could.”
“Of course it would. Spend some time with Manny and you’ll see. Sodding agents of God.” John smirked, but it didn’t last, and his gaze fell to his drink, his smile bitter. “He was an unbearable prat.”
“Manny?”
John didn’t raise his eyes as he shook his head no. “Angel-me.”
“He had his good points.”
John’s eyes snapped to Chas’, his expression betrayed. “Did he now?
“I’m just saying that I like all the yous.” Chas shrugged. “Even when you’re an unbearable prat.”
John laughed, despite himself, but he looked away, unwilling to share the moment and risk being teased out of his mood.
“You don’t have to angel-sit me, not any more,” John said, after a moment. “You can go out to a pub or do what you like.”
Chas shrugged. “I’m fine here.”
John rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ll be alright. An experience like this just takes a bit to fade.”
“Would a distraction help?”
John shook his head.
“At least hear what I have to offer.”
John sent him a skeptical look, but Chas wasn’t deterred.
“First, come over here.”
John’s brow furrowed. “I’m half a meter away, how much closer are you wanting?”
Chas held out a hand.
John stared at it, but he didn’t take it as understanding spread across his features.
“I’m not a good idea,” John said carefully.
Chas was ready for that. “Nope.”
John looked up at Chas sharply, affronted, even though they’d been his words. It bit at Chas’ heart, but he stuck to his resolve—the easy way was rarely successful with John.
“Well,” John said, standing up, “It’s good that we’ve reached an understanding.”
Chas was ready for that too, and as John moved past him, he seized him and tugged him down into his lap.
Somehow, after everything that had happened, John actually looked surprised. But he didn’t resist as Chas took hold of his chin and guided him into a gentle kiss.
John exhaled forcefully, his breath a little puff against Chas’ lips, and there was something almost desperate about it—as though John believed that, one way or another, this would lead to goodbye.
But then John’s arms were around Chas and he was kissing him back, hard, as if he wanted to devour the moment, make it a part of him so it couldn’t be taken away—because if there was a mistake to be made, John wasn’t one to shy away from it for long.
Which, if Chas were honest, was something that could be said for both of them.
Chas pulled away and said, “But you’re my bad idea.” He gave John his best conspiring look.
John snorted at him, but there was happiness lurking beneath it—Chas had gotten some decent practice at recognizing it—even if John did manage to keep it in check.
“If you want to be,” Chas added.
John laughed, and it was the first time it sounded genuine since he’d been back to himself.
“Was that funny?” Chas asked, more for the sake of conversation than because he actually minded.
“You’re asking my permission now?”
“Seemed like the thing to do.”
“After you dragged me into your lap? Stole a kiss or two? A bit late for that, isn’t it?”
Chas held back a grin of his own. “Want me to dump you back on the floor?”
John tightened his arms around Chas’ back. “Like to see you try, mate.”
“So, are you accepting?”
“Which part?” John’s eyes focused on Chas’ and it was easy to see the challenge in them. “Your offer of distractions, or that bit about being yours?”
Chas felt his stomach flip at what John had done to his words, but he found he didn’t object to the twist.
“Either.”
John’s eyes grew heavy-lidded as he pulled Chas into deep kiss—and Chas found that was more than enough of an answer for now.