Archive of Our Own

John’s very certain he’s felt more stressed in his life, but it’s a little hard to think of when. That would, of course, be all the stress keeping him from thinking properly. And of course, that was only really collapsing on his head because he finally had a second to sit still and do nothing but think about how everything had gone to hell.

Why in all hell did Noah have to follow him around? After he’d made the kid kill Tommy Willowtree? So why had Noah insisted on following him around. Noah got to see exactly how fucked up follow John around was, but he kept going anyway. Maybe it was the boggart’s curse, maybe it was that now that John knew Noah was his son, he couldn’t stop himself from being gentle. He couldn’t even be a bastard properly. He’d resolve to be such an arsewipe that Noah would tell him to fuck himself and leave. But when Noah got upset, John got quieter, softer. All he could see was his father standing over him with a fucking belt, calling him ‘Killer’.

His father really had been a bastard. John knew he was a shit parent, but the idea of making Noah have those same types of nightmares was unbearable. So, rather than try and bully Noah away, John decided to remove himself from the equation. He planned to do a few trips, be gone longer than he meant to be and then one day just not come back. He was a busy guy, after all.

He picked a place in the middle of bloody nowhere to go deal with some bollocks he didn’t care about except that it was in the middle of the woods and far from London. And of course, Noah followed him out there.

While John had pretended to sleep through the car ride up, he’d been considering exactly why Noah would still follow him around. What he finally settled on was Noah being alone. John had forcibly severed the relationship between Noah and the Ri-Boys. K-Mag was dead. Issa was dead. His mother was in a coma. He didn’t seem to like having D.S. Dole checking in on him any more than John liked having police looking over his shoulder. Nat would talk to John, but after Tommy Willowtree, she couldn’t talk to Noah.

Noah was also a poor black kid who wasn’t yet an adult, but too old to be a cute and adoptable kid. And oh yeah, John’s bloody tulpa had been feeding the xenophobic bullshite that made the political situation so fucking volatile. Also, Noah was mute, and clearly the people remaining in his life barely cared to learn BSL, which was also isolating.

John made him kill a man. But John also treated him better than most people. He could understand Noah. And dammit, he really actually cared about the kid.

Honestly, in his shoes, John would also be following around someone dangerous. He’d done stupider shit for less returns.

That wasn’t to mention how the boggart’s curse that may or may not still be binding them.

But all of that just meant that when John was trying to fix some old druid’s BS ancient spells (with the modern upgrades) and something invariably went wrong that Noah had gotten caught in the blast radius.

And that was how John found himself in the middle of the woods with a nine-year-old in his pajamas, hugging a stuffed bear.

“Noah?” John asked weakly. He’d seen age regression before, but the rules literally always changed about it.

[Who are you?] Noah signed.

Well, that ruled out a few things. The boggart attack would have been when he was around nine. He shouldn’t know BSL at that age, but he knew it. Given the clothes and bear which appeared out of nowhere, that meant that it wasn’t just age regression, but some type of moment regression. Noah didn’t recognize him, but he still had at least some of the skills he had as a teenager.

“Name’s John,” he said, kneeling down. Noah’s eyes were so brown, just a little too big on his face, like he hadn’t grown into them yet.

[Who are you,] Noah signed again, his eyes getting bright with scared tears, but his mouth was set in a stubborn frown, and he was glaring at John.

And maybe that was why John acted like an idiot. All he could see was his son, his little boy, so young when he lost his mum and his voice, when a monster cast a curse on him and bound him to old, useless John Constantine.

“I’m your father,” John heard himself say. Noah’s eyes got a little bigger and brighter. “I heard about what happened to your mum. I’m so sorry.” He meant it. He meant it so much. “She… I didn’t realize she’d gotten pregnant. I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it before.”

[Why are you here?] Noah apparently hadn’t realized he was standing outside barefoot in the middle of the night in the woods. Or maybe John’s sudden appearance was just more important than the setting.

“It was a monster that got your mum, wasn’t it?” He asked. Noah sucked in a breath and then nodded.

[You believe me?] Noah’s hands shook so hard the bear slipped from his grasp. John managed to grab it before it could faceplant into the dirt.

“Yeah kid,” John said. “That thing was a boggart. They feed on fear… your mom fought it back. She saved you.”

[Did she die?]

That broke John’s heart. And, to his shame, he nodded yes.

Noah’s face crumpled and the terrified tears began to fall. He didn’t make a sound. John grabbed him and hugged him to his chest. Noah was so small. He was shaking all over and not making a sound. John glanced around. It was still night and in the middle of nowhere. Supposedly there shouldn’t be anything else in the woods, but John didn’t trust that.

He shifted Noah in his arms, so Noah was holding the bear and John had a better hold on him. He started to walk away from the druid’s circle. He just picked a direction and walked. He couldn’t risk taking Noah back to the to the car, but he knew a town shouldn’t be too far from that blasted spot in the woods. He needed to get them as far away from there as possible, and that meant Noah was going to need actual shoes.

It was a bit of a blur after that. He remembered snatches of moments: Him stumbling into some town in the early morning, mumbling something about “bear” and “camping trip disaster”. Noah in a sorry state, and just signing [dad] when anyone tried to separate them or ask him what happened. Finally, he managed to string a few other words together, but all he got out was [Dad. Bear. Scared.]

It was what finally sold the story. They were offered a place to wash up and a doctor to check them for injuries. Apparently, Noah’s feet had gotten cut from the ground, and John had a cut on his face and neck he didn’t remember getting but had to be from battling the spell before Noah’s change.

John hadn’t thought he’d managed to sell his lies to Noah well, but maybe the kid still had positive feelings toward him or something. Whatever it was, Noah clung to him and his toy. At some point he haltingly signed that the toy’s name was [Mr. President] and that [He is a Teddy, not a Bear], which was so fucking cute that it had John, the doctor, the nurses and the pub owner (who’d been helping them since they stumbled into her establishment almost as soon as they walked into the village) all smiling at once.

They got a meal and people managed to scrounge up a change of clothes for them and were even nice enough to wash their things and get them dry (faster than normal because John did cheat and use a little bit of magic to get it done). They got a meal, a packed lunch, a bag to carry their clothes in and a ride to the nearest train station. John had barely put Noah down by that point.

The first train took them to a better station where they could actually get a decent seat for a multi-hour trip to London. It had never occurred to John before, but people were a lot nicer when they got the idea that he was a bumbling father desperately trying to get his son home safe, even if they still gave them funny looks.

Noah wanted to walk by the time they got off the first train. John made him hold his hand, and Noah didn’t seem interested in acting like an independent big boy. He stayed tucked close to John, holding Mr. President while John bought himself a couple packs of nicotine gum, a paper, a notebook for Noah and a couple snacks to go with their lunch boxes.

It was for the best that way. They stayed close together as they boarded and got to their seat. The train was a little old-fashioned with the interior being mostly wood. There were booths with tables. That suited John fine. He had Noah sit on the inside near the window. Unfortunately, John hadn’t gotten Noah much to do, which was why John ended up threatening Vestibulan’s entire existence if he played anything on the phone that would upset Noah before he handed his kid the phone and earbuds.

Noah was asleep with his head in John’s lap, curled in a tight ball around the phone and Mr. President in no time. John even pulled off his coat and draped it over him. After that, all John had to do to fill his time was watch scenery, chew nicotine gum, and read the paper. None of those lasted long before John was just staring off into space, finally thinking about what he had to do to keep his little boy (so small, so damn small) safe.

“Excuse me.”

John’s head whipped up. Shite, being that deep in thought wasn’t good. Who knew what would get close that way.

“Wha?” he asked dumbly.

He found himself faced with some 60-something black woman with natural grey hair and a kind and nervous expression.

“Sorry,” she said. “Train’s gotten pretty full. Would you mind if I sat here?”

“Yeah ‘s fine,” John said.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting down in the booth seat across from them, setting her bag down in the seat in the same motion.

“Just don’t wake the kid,” he cautioned.

“I won’t,” she said. “Is he normally such a heavy sleeper?”

“I…” John trailed off, looking down at Noah. “I’m… not actual sure.” He looked back at the woman and saw something like confusion cross her face. Maybe it was judgement. Maybe someone was going to start asking questions.

“I just,” he started rambling. “It’s my first time taking him like this. It’s been- well- his mum- she-” his voice caught. She was alive, but she wasn’t going to wake up. She might as well be gone forever. But he had lied. He was going to take Noah far away and make him think she really was dead. What if Noah never went back to his correct age? What if he never found the truth? And what if he did?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, cutting through John’s spiraling thoughts.

John cleared his throat, forcing himself to get it together. “It’s not my loss,” he said. “It’s his. Noah’s a good boy. He deserves a lot better than the likes of me to care about him.”

“I’m pretty sure my father felt the same way about me,” she said, drawing his attention back to her properly. “Heck, I think I felt that way about my kids. I know my husband did sometimes. Your children are the best of you, and it’s terrifying to think you’re going to make them into the worst.”

John chuckled darkly. “Lady, you don’t know the half of it.” He had his hand on Noah’s face. He’d been stroking Noah’s cheek with his thumb for probably an hour at this point. Despite any discomfort, he didn’t want to stop.

“Well, we’ve got about seven hours until we reach London,” she pointed out. “You can tell me if you want.”

“Really that bored, huh?”

“I’m Meredith.”

“John.”

“It’s nice to meet you, John. And yes, I don’t want to think about the trip too much.”

“Bad trip?”

“Picking up my grandchildren,” she said. And then she mumbled almost entirely under her breath, “there was an emergency injunction.”

“Ah,” he said. “Then yeah. Talking’s fine. I don’t exactly have a lot to do until then.”

What he’d do next would depend on a lot of things when they got to London. It would also depend on if any ghoulies followed him onto the train. Whatever happened, John needed to see what of his and Noah’s things he’d be able to get. Possibly none, but that wasn’t the end of the world. The bigger problem was going to be if Noah didn’t wake up before they arrived, and John couldn’t contact anyone until they had to load off the train. London hosted a lot of nasty things and people. But it was so big it was also easier to hide. And there was an airport, which he may or may not have to take advantage of.

“How long have you had him?” Meredith asked with a kind voice.

“I’ve met him once or twice… He just found out I’m his dad. He knows me, but I’m just that jerk that hangs around sometimes. But what happened with his mum… I don’t know, he keeps clinging to me.” He swallowed. “Sorry, you don’t need to know all that.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “Nice thing about meeting a stranger on a train: you never see them again when it’s over. It makes a perfect confessional.”

John pulled out a new piece of nicotine gum to chew on. He offered once to Meredith, which she accepted without a word.

“Yeah, that’s a reasonable way to look at it,” he said. “And what about you?”

“Married, two kids. Three grandchildren. All of them are about to be living with me.” She looked a little bitter. “I’d rather they be with me. But I really wanted to just… not have to keep raising babies.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “How’s your husband?”

“Taking care of the dogs,” she said. “He does his best, but he has an injury. Well, it makes things difficult. I had to come. He had to stay. He spent all night worrying about a million possible things that could happen to me while I was gone,” she said with a warm smile.

“Sounds like a decent sort,” John said.

“More than decent.” That seemed to cheer her up. “So, tell me your story.”

“I do freelance… let’s say extermination,” he said.

“Let’s say?” she asked, raising a brow.

“I’m an exorcist,” he said. Whatever, she’d probably just think he was crazy.

“You the conman type, or the type that makes people feel better?” she asked. Clever.

“I definitely have a reputation as a conman,” he said. “But mostly to my enemies. And to my friends. But strangers… eh, I try to make it better for them. Don’t always succeed… it’s not really the best thing to drag a kid into.” Understatement of the century.

“At least you’re aware of it and you’re honest about it. I can’t tell you how many men I’ve met who just talk a big game and then they’re made of nothing. They play it up well enough that they got their targets too wrapped up in them for them to run.”

“Is that what happened with your kid?” he asked. “Sorry,” he added when her expression changed. He’d definitely hit the mark. “I’m a bit of a bastard.”

“I can tell,” she said. She let out a long sigh. “I want to think so, but truthfully, I think my baby led her own self down this path… I want to help, and I don’t think I can.”

“In my experience Meredith, you do the best you can and just have to live with that,” he said. “If I’m honest, you’re already doing a million times better than my old man.”

“That bad?”

He closed his eyes, a few memories of his father brushing through his mind. Downside of trauma, you either remembered it all perfectly or in a bit of a haze- if at all. John’s mind had seen so much that his older memories did both. It wasn’t like his dad ever acted all that different. So yeah, the words and the abuse came in crystal clear, but he couldn’t connect one time to another in the timeline of his life.

“My mother died from birth complications,” he said. His gaze was drawn out the window to the green passing by the window. “And boy did my dad never let me forget it. You know what he used to call me? ‘Killer’. He always said it with a sneer too. Like “come ‘ere, Killer, you deserve to feel some of the hurt you caused.’ I was seven. Incredible.”

“Screw him,” she said. John’s eyes snapped back to her. Her entire aura twisted with rage. Rage for him. It made him smile a little. “Screw him. I hope he’s burning in hell.”

“Almost definitely,” he said with a vicious smile. He might be damned many times over, but his old man would have made it down there the good old-fashioned way.

“Good. I hate people like that. Stuff happens. Blaming a child for that? Makes me want to hurt something.” Someone.

“I understand. Believe me,” he said. He looked back down to Noah. John really was a killer, though. It wasn’t just Astra, it was so many people. K-Mag and Tommy were the latest. Yes, Noah held the knife and slit Tommy’s throat, but under John’s orders. John wouldn’t feel nearly as awful if he’d had to do it himself.

“The thing about bad parents,” Meredith said slowly. “The one good thing, is that you can look at what they did and say, “I’m never going to do that”.”

“What now?”

“You’d never talk to your boy like that, would you?”

“No, never,” John said, feeling a surge of pain at the very thought.

“We aren’t stuck being our parents, John.” There was knowing and understanding in her eyes. He didn’t know if she was the one who had that experience, or someone she knew, like her husband, but her words were personal.

“Isn’t that what everyone says? We wake up one day and we’re our parents.”

“Bullshite,” she said so bluntly that a surprised laugh escaped his mouth.

“Say it nicer,” John chuckled.

“I mean it,” she said. “Your dad spoke cruel to you? Then don’t do that for your kid. Did he hit you? Then don’t do that to your own. Did he make you feel small? Then don’t do that. Were you hungry? Make sure the fridge is stocked. Were you cold? Make sure there’s extra blankets. No affection? Give all the hugs you can… I promise you, it’s possible and doable.”

Her tone left no room for argument. She believed them so completely that it stole John’s voice away. He looked over to Noah, who was still sound asleep. John could hear some childish song coming through the earbuds. He’d have to tell Vestibulan not to play the music so loud next time.

That thought tripped his mind. Never in a million years would his father ever had thought about that for John. He’d never let John lay on him like that. He’d never let him use something as important as his phone, never pet his face with as much gentleness as he could physically manage. He’d never worry about John’s hearing. He’d never carry John through the woods. Hell, he would have made John walk.

He’d never have gone to any trouble to get John out of a gang. He’d never crack jokes with him. He’d never come if John called for help. Hell, John never would have called him for help because he knew his father would never lift a finger for him.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered, feeling his whole perspective shifting.

“See,” Meredith said.

“Yeah,” John said. “You know, I’ve done nasty things to a lot of people who hurt kids… if anyone talked to Noah like that, I’d just kill them.”

“Then that’s your answer, innit?”

John looked back up at her. “Thanks, Meredith. That… it does help.”

He couldn’t abandon Noah. Noah was alone and young. And even if/when he turned back, John still didn’t want to abandon him. He wanted Noah to call him every time he had a problem.

“I’m sure you’ll do well with your grandkids,” John said. “You’re good with the advice.”

“I thought I was.”

“You are,” John said. “I promise… I’ve seen a lot of shite in this world, and I have to say, people turn around even when you don’t think it’s possible. Not all the time, but enough. I’ve seen it.” He offered her his hand.

Meredith stared at him for a long moment before placing her hand in his own. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle. She gripped onto him tight.

“I’ve seen it too,” she said. She let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, John. I’d forgotten.”

“You’re a good one, Meredith,” John said.

Noah woke up a few hours into the trip. He was very sleepy, and the grumpy look was adorable. Meredith produced a brush from her bag and John moved to Noah could sit with her for a bit. John took a few notes on his phone while Meredith gave him pointers. It wasn’t that John didn’t know anything, but it was a good idea to take notes, just in case.

Noah sat with Meredith while the the three of them split their snacks and lunch boxes. Meredith was good with Noah. She let him teach her a few signs and waited patiently while he wrote whatever else he wanted to say. John heard her praise Noah on his vocabulary more than a few times, which just lent credence to John’s theory about Noah retaining skills he had was a teenager.

Meredith giving attention to Noah allowed John to get his hands on his phone and look a few things up. The first was that to his relief, Zatanna was actually in London for a show. Things were a little awkward after their last breakup, but that didn’t matter. When the text he tried to send her came back as blocked he slammed the phone to his ear.

“Vestibulan,” he said.

“What? It’s not enough to torture me with- with- I can’t even say it!”

“Children’s songs?” John asked dryly and with little patience.

“Surely these are tortures that came from hell.”

“I need you to get me through to Zatanna.”

“Hmph, it seems to me she does not want to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. I need to talk to her now. Don’t make me play a 24-hour loop of Barney for you to suffer through.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

“Fine.”

John sighed, pulling his phone from his ear and rubbing his forehead. When he looked up both Noah and Meredith were staring at him.

“Really bad AI upgrade,” John said. “Some goth nonsense. I regret it every day.”

When both of them looked away he dropped his own gaze, shrinking his head down as far below his shoulders as he could, cradling his head in his hand. He stayed in that position and waited for a full ten minutes before a familiar voice came on the line.

“This better be important, John,” Zatanna hissed in his ear.

“Z, good to hear from you,” he said.

“Don’t even start,” she said. “Just tell me what you need.”

“A favor,” John said. “A big one… one I can’t explain on the phone, okay? I’m about three hours from London. I’ll come find you when I get there. Just unblock me so I don’t have to threaten Vestibulan again.”

Zatanna was silent for a moment. “Is it that bad?” she asked.

“It’s not great,” he said.

Zatanna let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. You know where I’ll be.”

“Thanks, Z. You’re a life saver.”

“You owe me.”

“I’ll owe you,” he said.

“See you, John.” And then she hung up.

John groaned, pressing the phone for his forehead. Noah giggled. John shot a glare at him.

“Laugh all you want, pipsqueak, but I just had to call my ex because of you,” he grumbled.

[Not the one who knows BSL, right?] Nine year olds shouldn’t smirk like that when reminding John that he’d told a much older Noah that he’d learned BSL from a hookup.

John’s face went red as a tomato. “Why do you remember that?” he whined. Now he was worried exactly what Noah remembered. There were plenty of things he didn’t want a nine-year-old to remember.

“You be surprised what children remember,” Meredith said, looking deeply amused.

“Please, don’t say that,” he groaned.

“And this ex of yours…”

“Lovely girl,” John said. “Cocked it up by being a tit, but what’s new? Anyway, she can help with the current… situation.”

“I see,” she said. “Look, John, I know I said this was just strangers on the train, but I’m not picking the kids up until after 5.” Which was three hours after they would arrive.

“Meredith, are you offering to watch Noah for me for a little while?”

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t exactly know what’s going on, but it’s not good, is it?”

“It isn’t,” John said. He thought about her offer for a moment. “Okay. You need a hotel for the night, or are you heading out on the train again?”

“Not until tomorrow,” she said.

“I’ll pay for a hotel if you can watch Noah for an hour? I need to grab a few things from my flat.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s necessary,” he said. “You’ve been very kind.”

“That’s just what you do,” she said like it was nothing. They both knew it wasn’t, but John appreciated it anyway.

“Still,” he said.

Neither of them argued the finer points from there.

Noah came back over to John’s side to nap again about an hour before they arrived. This time, John heard something that definitely wasn’t children’s music coming from the earbuds, but Noah was sound asleep so John chose not to worry about it.

When they arrived, Meredith helped him get his coat on, and he carried Noah and Mr. President off the train. The three of them went from the station to the tube right to the hotel he’d booked on his phone. He gently settled Noah on one of the beds and tucked his boy in. Noah was still deep asleep by that point.

“Here,” John said to Meredith, pulling a card from his pocket. “Please don’t comment. I need to get them reprinted, but that’s my number.

Meredith, bless her, just smirked a little and didn’t say anything about the card.

“And can you do me a favor a draw salt lines in front of the door and windows.” He produced said salt from one of his many pockets.

“I’ll do it,” she said. And bless her again, she didn’t ask, instead going to do exactly what he asked.

He headed out. About ten minutes on the street and a message appeared on his phone. It was a text saying, ‘So you have my number too – Meredith”. He sent back his thanks and then focused back on his mission.

Noah’s flat was the first visit. There was a lot he couldn’t bring, but if there was anything about his mum, John didn’t want to leave it behind.

There were a few things about Noah’s mum, as well as Noah’s important documents, which John stuffed in one of the family photo albums. He shoved those in a couple Tesco bags, along with a couple pictures of Noah and his mum, a police portrait of his mum, and a couple of toys Noah still had, which were a couple of busted army men and an even more ancient Mr. President.

John wished he knew if there was anything else Noah really needed or would want, but he decided to just pop D.S. Dole a message and ask him to handle it. He might actually know better than John did.

He told himself it didn’t matter as he rushed to his flat. He just threw a few things in a suitcase, mostly to buffer the things he got from Noah’s flat, and headed back out again.

It took him an hour and a half, all things told. He texted Meredith when he was coming up.

Noah was awake when Meredith opened the door. He was sitting on the bed, holding Mr. President, watching something on Meredith’s phone. It took John slightly too long to realize what he was hearing.

“Did Vestibulan show you Mucous Membrane?” John asked incredulously.

[Dad], Noah signed, giving John the most adorable smile.

“It’s absolute, shite,” John said.

[Dad], Noah repeated, looking rather smug. He looked back at the music video. Well, the song was almost over anyway.

“I’m sorry about that,” John said to Meredith.

“Punk group in the 70s, huh?” Meredith asked.

“Please, please don’t ask,” he said.

“So how old are you?”

“Would you believe me if I said probably older than you?” he asked weakly.

“Maybe,” she said. “In any case, I’m glad you made it back safe.”

“Thank you for watching Noah,” he said. He heard the music video end. “Come on, kid, let’s go see Z. Give Miss Meredith back her phone.”

Noah set the phone down and crawled out of bed, walking over to John and grabbing onto his pants leg. That only lasted a second before he started signing.

[Thank you, Miss Meredith. You are really nice and fun.]

“He said: thank you, Miss Meredith. You are really nice and fun,” John translated almost automatically.

“Thank you for being so well behaved, Noah. Now, you keep an eye on your dad. He has a knack for trouble, I can tell.”

Noah nodded seriously, frowning broadly as he did so.

“Come here, you little hellion,” John grumbled, scooping Noah up. He’d have to put him down when they got downstairs and got the suitcase from the front desk. But until then, he wanted Noah close.

“You two take care of each other,” she said.

“Thanks, Meredith. I owe you one. Call me if something happens, okay.”

“I will, John, now go.”

Noah waved over John’s shoulder as he walked them out. John got them to the lift before Noah started signing to him.

[You should do something nice for her.]

“I may have left a few hundred pounds by the door,” John admitted with a crooked smile. Noah beamed and tossed his arms around John’s neck, holding him nice and tight.

“Okay, kid,” John murmured, hugging Noah in return. He had to swallow a few times to keep from tearing up. He didn’t think he’d stop if he started to cry. “Let’s go meet Z.”

Noah was grumpy about being put down when they got to the lobby. He kept tight hold of John’s hand as they walked down the street. John could have shoved the suitcase into a pocket dimension, but he didn’t want to do any extra magic and potentially get eyes on him. Until they were out of London, he wasn’t going to feel safe.

Still, hold onto Noah in the tube was a real anxiety inducing pain in the arse. He was grateful that it put them out as the theatre Zatanna was preforming at. That was the one positive.

He stopped to text Zatanna that he was there before he approached the staff door. A guard stared at them when John got there but let them in anyway. John barely kept himself from snapping. He was just on edge. The bloke hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, but everything felt like a threat. John held his tongue and held even tighter onto Noah’s hand.

They were guided back to Zatanna’s dressing room. The guard only let them in after knocking and getting Zatanna’s okay to come in.

John stepped inside with Noah. Only once the door was shut did he let out a breath of relief. Yes, he and Zatanna broke up, but she was safe, and Noah was safer with her around.

“So,” Zatanna said, stepping out from behind the screen. She wasn’t dressed for her show yet, comfortable in a robe and slippers, her hair damp and loose. She looked good. “What’s going… is that a child?”

“Zatanna, this is Noah, Noah Ikumelo. He’s my son.” He knew there was a weight in the look he was giving her. He knew she’d understand just how dangerous this was.

“Oh, Noah, it’s nice to meet you. My name’s Zatanna, but you can call me Z, if you want.”

[No wonder she broke up with you. She’s too good for you,] Noah signed to John.

“Thanks,” John said dryly. He glanced to Zatanna who looked confused. “He’s mute. He and his mum had a run in with a boggart.”

“I see,” she said. “I know ASL better, I’m afraid.”

“He’s telling me that I, as the kids would say, have no game.”

That startled a bright laugh out of Zatanna. Noah’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as well. John felt like his heart was melting. He hugged Noah to his side a little tighter.

“So, what happened?” she asked.

John sighed suddenly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Vestibulan, just play the music video for the kid.

[Dad!] Noah signed with a big smile, happily taking the phone. John let out a bigger sigh when the first notes started to play.

He hustled Z behind the screen and started to talk really quietly as his singing started to fill the dressing room.

“Is that you?” she asked.

“He likes it for some reason,” he mumbled.

“Can’t imagine why. John, he’s so cute.”

“I know,” John said with a tired sigh. “Look, 24 hours ago he was nearly 17 years old. Idiot followed me out on a job and got hit by curse rebound and suddenly he’s 9 years old. It was bad enough when he was 17, but now he’s extremely vulnerable and I have really pissed some people off recently.”

“That’s… not ideal.”

“Tell me about it,” John grumbled quietly. “Look, when he was nine for real a boggart tried to curse his mum to tie her and me together for revenge. But whoops, neither of us cared about each other at all. Except it turns out our one-night stand led to that adorable kid out there. And when she fought back the spell smacked the ever-loving shite out of the boggart and also magically bound me and Noah.”

He was speaking so quietly he could barely hear himself over his own wailing, but Zatanna seemed to be understanding him. She nodded for him to continue.

“So, I meet this kid was accident. His mum’s in a coma, he’s in a gang lead by a two-bit magician. I get him out, he drives me around for a month or so. A couple times he calls me for help with some situation he sees, but until… well, I keep him mostly out of it. But something happens and it goes the way it always goes. Kid’s alive and physically fine and all. I thought he’d shake me off. But he just keeps… following me around. Anyway, I decide to fuck off to the middle of nowhere and the kid follows me. And when the spell I’m breaking fights back and then breaks, he gets his and suddenly he’s 9 again. All his IDs and shite is for a 17 year old.”

“Well, that’s a problem,” she said.

“And I can’t leave him here. He barely had anyone before. He definite has no one now.”

“His mum-”

“I told him she died,” John whispered.

“John-”

“He can’t stay here, Z.” He sounded every bit as desperate as he felt.

“Okay,” she whispered back. “What do you need?”

“Justice League’s got contacts with billionaires and tech geniuses, right? I need to get away from here. I need a place to stay that’s relatively safe. But first, I need to get out of this country, and I need to take Noah with me. He needs papers that line up. And it needs to be fast.”

Zatanna stared at him. He thought for a second that she was just going to call him crazy. He wouldn’t blame her. There was no defined threat. He didn’t have anyone after him in particular, and no one knew he and Noah were related until he told the kid back in the woods. But John felt frantic to leave as fast as he could.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I can take you two to a zeta tube and the Watch Tower-”

“Z-”

“And I’ll talk to someone. I still have my show, but you two should be safe there until I finish up. Then I can help with the rest, okay?”

John hesitated for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

“Good,” she said. “Let me get dressed.”

John let out a breath and went to sit with Noah, who was happily watching that dumb music video again. John sat on the couch next to him. After a moment, Noah crawled into his lap, holding up the phone say they could both see, almost handing it to John. John took it and Noah started to sign.

[Didn’t know you could sing.]

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other… what do you remember about me?”

Noah paused and considered. [Don’t know. It’s jumbled. You’re dad, right? No lies?]

“Yeah, no lies,” John said. He put his arm around Noah, hugging him a little closer.

[Always wanted a dad.]

“Yeah, well, I’d say I always wanted a kid, but to be honest, I’ve always been scared shitless about it.”

[Well, you’re stuck with me now.] Noah’s grumpy expression was adorable.

“Yeah, I’m not sorry about that.” His words made Noah smile, but he looked relieved too.

[How long did you sing?]

“Just a couple years,” John said.

[Tell me more,] Noah ordered.

“Well, that’s Gary,” he said, pointing to Gary’s face when it flashed up on the video. “He and I did most of the writing. I’d like to say he did most of it, cause it was all shite, but I’m pretty sure he wrote the only good bits. Then Beano’s on drums, and Les over there’s playing the bass… And not in this video is Chas, my old mate… Not gonna lie, outside of Chas and me, everyone else is gone at this point.”

[Tell me about them.]

John let out a sigh. “Okay, fine,” he said and started to just tell some random stories.

“You boys ready to go?” Zatanna asked eventually. She was back in her street clothes with her hair braided back. She looked good, comfortable, still a bit damp.

[Dad’s telling me about his band] Noah said.

“Uh… Dad and band?” she asked. She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’ll learn more the next time we see each other. I just don’t know BSL very well.”

“He said I was telling him about my old band,” John said. He gave Noah a comforting hug. He knew his boy was used to this, at least his nearly-adult son was. But this Noah was still young, and John could feel the way he wilted with disappointment.

“I’d like to hear a few of those stories,” Z said.

“Absolutely never. Noah get’s special son privileges.” That had Noah pep right up.

“Okay, fine,” Z said with an over dramatic sigh. “Alright, boys. Stand up and grab your things.”

John dropped his phone in his pocket and nudged Noah up. He grabbed Noah’s hand and the bag.

“Ekat su ot eht atez ebut,” Zatanna said, grabbing onto John’s sleeve in the same moment. Noah gasped, his eyes getting wide, watching the blue light of Z’s magic.

The teleportation was smoother than it used to be, but Noah was not used to it. He ended up pretty jarred, stumbling a bit when they landed. John just scooped him up.

“You’ll get used to it one day, kid,” John said.

Noah just hugged his neck rather than answer.

“I’m going to send you two up first,” Zatanna said, breaking away to tap at the terminal. “I’ll bring the bag next.”

“Thanks, Z,” John said. “Come on kid, we’re going to the Watch Tower.”

Noah just hugged him rather than answer. John bet the kid was exhausted, even with all the naps.

“Okay, I have you,” John murmured to him. He walked into the tube. A few seconds later they appeared at the Watch Tower, facing the big man in blue himself.

“Constantine?” Supes asked, looking surprised to see him. It wasn’t like Constantine was on the best terms with the Justice League at the moment.

“Superman,” John said, stepping out of the tube so Z could come through next.

Apparently ‘Superman’ was the magic word, because Noah popped his head up and turned around, looking at Superman with wide eyed shock. Noah shyly raised a hand to wave hello, dropping Mr. President in the process. The only reason the teddy didn’t hit the floor was Superman catching him and depositing him into Noah’s hands.

“Hello there,” Superman said in an infinitely gentle voice. “Try to hold onto your friend, okay? We get speedsters around here occasionally. They don’t always look where they’re going. We don’t want your friend to get hurt.”

[Mr. President,] Noah signed.

“What?”

“He said Mr. President,” John translated.

“No, I understood that part,” Superman said.

Noah turned himself around in John’s arms so suddenly that John struggled to keep ahold of him. Noah had Mr. President laying against his chest between his arms, freeing his hands. He started to sign rapidly.

[Do you understand me? Dad, does Superman understand me?]

“Yes, I understand you,” Superman said. He glanced to John, questions in his eyes, but he chose to focus on Noah rather than ask them, which John appreciated.

[But you’re American.]

“I mean…” Superman started.

“You’re a yank, trust me,” John said dryly.

“Anyway,” Superman said a little louder than he needed to, but it told John to shut up. “It’s important for Superman to be able to understand as many people as possible. So, I study a lot of languages.”

[You understand me!] Noah looked so excited.

[I do,] Superman signed. [So, who’s Mr. President.]

[My teddy. Mummy let me name him.]

Superman grinned. [That’s a wonderful name. I bet he takes good care of you.]

[I take good care of him too,] Noah responded.

That was about the time Z showed up with John’s suitcase.

“Ah, Superman, I didn’t expect to see you so quickly,” she said.

“I heard the tubes tuning up. No one else is meant to be rotation who isn’t already here right now, so I thought it might be an emergency.”

“A little bit,” Z said. “I see you’ve met Noah.”

[Noah Ikumelo], Noah spelled out.

“Noah Ikumelo, that’s a fine name.”

Noah grinned at him.

“Is there anyone else here?” John asked.

“Well, Batman’s here-”

“Great,” John grumbled.

“No, it’s a good thing,” Zatanna said quickly. “He’s exactly who we need to talk to.”

“Anyone else?” John asked, wondering if there were any other nasty surprises.

“Nightwing’s in for a little while.”

“Good,” Z said. “That’s perfect. You think he’d be willing to stay with Noah for a little while?”

[Can I stay with Superman?]

“Sorry, champ,” Superman said. “I think I’m need for this discussion, but I’ll play with you before you go, okay?”

Noah looked to John then. [Can I stay with you?] He looked so sad that it just made John’s chest hurt.

“I have to make some arrangements, okay, kid? You can keep my phone if you want. Vestibulan will play something for you.”

[I don’t like him. He’s an arse.]

John chuckled. “I’ll tell you a secret, he hates children’s songs. If he starts getting prickly you can just make him listen to the Wiggles.”

[You just want me to torture him for you.]

“I promise I don’t need you for that,” John said. “But it’s fun, right?”

Noah looked thoughtful. [Yes.]

“Good,” John said. He looked up, seeing Superman returning with Nightwing himself.

“Uh, hey,” Nightwing said. “Supes said there’s a kid.”

“Yeah, this is my son, Noah,” John said.

“Huh… I didn’t know I could be surprised and not surprised at all,” Nightwing said.

“Be nice,” Superman said.

[Hello, Nightwing.]

[Hello, Noah. Are you hungry?]

“You know BSL too?” John asked. Did the entire league know? That would be nice, actually.

“Agent A is from London,” Nightwing said.

John set Noah down. “Okay, go on, kid. I’ll come back to you as fast as I can.” He pulled his phone out and handed it to Noah.

Noah nodded and walked over to Nightwing, clinging to John’s phone and Mr. President. John waited until he couldn’t hear the patter of little feet before he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like nothing could happen up here, but the Watch Tower was significantly safer than anywhere else on earth.

“Let’s go talk to Batman,” Zatanna said, putting a hand on John’s shoulder.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Superman asked.

“Day before yesterday,” John said. He rubbed his eyes and groaned, realizing how tired he was. “I hope the kid wants another nap later.”

“I didn’t realize you had a kid,” Superman said.

“It’s… I’ll tell you when we get to Batman. I don’t want to repeat this again.”

Superman let that go, thank fuck. He guided them through the Watch Tower to the meeting room where Batman was already waiting for them.

“Zatanna,” Batman said. “Constantine. I didn’t believe we’d be seeing you here.”

“Things change,” John said.

“Sit down,” Superman said. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thanks,” John murmured. He did need it. He needed something, that was for sure. He sunk into one of the meetings chairs. Zatanna sat next to him, and Batman chose a seat across from him. It felt a little like he was about to be interrogated. But then that’s how it always felt when Batman was around. Superman returned with glasses, a pitcher of water and some biscuits on a plate. It had been a while since lunch and John was suddenly ravenous.

The JL members were nice enough to let him eat a couple bites and get a few sips of water before they started asking questions.

“Why are you here?” Batman demanded. It was nominally phrased as a question, but it was a demand if John had ever heard ne.

“I need a favor, a couple of them,” John admitted.

“Why?” Batman again demanded, this time with narrowed eyes.

“A month or so ago,” John said. “I found out I had a kid named Noah Ikumelo. At the time he was getting close to 17. We’d already been in contact for a while by the time I realized. I was the only one who knew. I think you know what bad luck I am. I was trying to pry myself away, take a mission out of London and he came with me to help anyway. Stupid boy.”

He felt so tired. Noah was way too good. He was going to get his heart trampled all his life. At least, that’s what John was most afraid of.

“Anyway,” he said. “A spell backfired, and he got turned back to when he was 9. See, his mum and I met because of a boggart, basically a spirit that feeds on fear. And that boggart got pissed about me sealing him up. He decided to get revenge on me and Noah’s mum. He tried to put a binding spell on her, but there wasn’t anything even vaguely fond in her memories about me. But Noah came in when the boggart was casting the spell and she started fighting back. That cocked the spell up in ways I’m not even sure of. What I do know is Noah and I got tied together. Which is how we met. But Noah was 9 when that happened. He's been mute ever since. Far as I can tell, he got de-aged to the day of the boggart attack, cause he absolutely did not have that teddy with him when we were dealing with the spell.”

“Is he aware of what happened?” Batman asked.

“Somewhat. He’s got some of his skills from when he was a teenager, like knowing BSL. His writing and vocabulary’s also better than it should be, apparently. And he has some memories and feelings from before. I told him I was his dad so he wouldn’t panic when we first met. And well… I claimed him. There’s potent magic around claiming kin. He had a potential target on his back just being related to me, but he was at least closer to an adult. Now he’s just a kid and I’ve got a lot of enemies.”

“So, what do you need from us?” Superman asked, his voice gentle and not demanding. He had a much kinder expression than Batman, who was just frowning harder than when John first came in.

“I need a place to live with him and I need documents for him that won’t get funny looks,” John said.

“Do you think he’ll change back?” Batman asked. That was the question, wasn’t it.

“I can’t know for certain. But I don’t find it encouraging that he has some memories of before. I can try and do research, but he may just be like this from now on.”

“What about his mom?” Zatanna asked.

“Yeah,” John said, shifting uncomfortably. “We just had to leave her behind. Is there any way to make certain that she’ll still be cared for?”

“We can do that,” Batman said. “Are you planning on retirement? The life of a traveling magician isn’t conducive to parenting a small child.”

“Pretty sure that isn’t possible,” John answered. “I’ve tried to walk away a lot. But stuff happens and my choice is deal with it or ignore it and know it will get worse. But something stable would be nice, a place I can stick to and not have to run all over all the time. Just not certain how possible that is.”

“You have many enemies. Are there place you cannot go?” Batman asked.

“LA,” John said. “Well it’s not that I can’t. I’m just not doing that again. I’d rather just avoid California all together.” He listed a few more places before looking between Batman and Superman. “So, is there anything you can do?”

“There is,” Superman said, looking at Batman intently. “But even if we can get you what you requested, is that going to keep Noah protected?”

John went quiet, thinking about those words. He knew it was a problem. If a drop of Noah’s blood got anywhere near a demon, they’d think it was his.

“I’m going to have to figure that out.” John put his head in his hands, sucking in a few breaths and shakily blowing them back out. Then suddenly he had an idea. If he could get the relevant parties to agree it would work, but he was certain it was going to cost him something he wasn’t going to want to give up.

“John,” Zatanna started.

“Just- you still have your show,” he rasped. “I can just spend time with the kid or something while you’re gone. You don’t need to be here right now.”

“You sure?”

“We have it here,” Superman assured her. “Don’t worry. I think Constantine could use a meal and a nap. It’s going to take a while for us to get this handled anyway.”

“Alright,” Zatanna said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Take your time,” John said, waving a hand.

Zatanna gave him one more look and then saw herself out. John watched her go before looking at Batman and Superman.

“So, lads, what now?”

“Now, I take you to Nightwing and Noah, and you get a meal,” Superman said. “And some sleep. Batman and I have much to discuss.”

“Great,” John said with false cheer, pushing himself up. “Lead the way, Supes.”

Superman didn’t even seem annoyed at the shitty nickname. He guided John through the huge, labyrinthine space station to the kitchen. John could smell it before they got there. Whatever was going on in that kitchen smelled heavenly.

They rounded the corner and John was greeted by the sight of Nightwing in a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, stirring a pot and flipping grilled cheese at the same time. Noah had settled at the table, coloring on printed coloring sheets. Once again, he had ‘Venus of the Hardsell’ playing. John was starting to feel tempted to locate a few live recordings of Mucous Membrane just to have a different song to listen to.

“You’re not torturing Nightwing with my shitty singing, are you kid?” John asked. Noah’s head whipped up and he grinned.

[Dad! You’re back!]

“That was fast,” Nightwing said.

“It’s not over,” Superman said. “Constantine just doesn’t need to be in this part of the discussion. Can you get him something to eat as well and show them to a room after a meal?”

“Sure,” Nightwing asked. He was giving Superman a significant look, but John was too tired to try and sus out what they weren’t saying.

Much as he hated it, he was at the mercy of the Justice League right now. There were plenty of groups that it would be worse to be indebted to, but it still made him anxious. He was weak and vulnerable, and worse, so was Noah. Without their help it would be a lot harder to keep Noah safe. Right now, his own comfort and well-being were taking a back seat to protecting his son.

John dropped into the seat next to Noah, looking over the drawings, which looked like it was from some official Justice League coloring book. Noah had been carefully coloring a picture of Superman. John felt a strong affection well up in his chest. If he had a fridge, he would have put it up, even though he didn’t care for Superman all that much. But Noah did and that felt like more than enough.

John zoned out, just watching Noah work on his picture. The sound of his own voice washed over him, becoming background noise. He had a short moment to just feel content. This didn’t last long. It never did.

A bowl of soup and a plate of grilled cheese was set in front of Noah. John sat up straighter, jolted out of his mental floating.

“Here you go, kiddo. Constantine, gimme a couple minutes to get a plate together for you.”

“S’fine, mate,” John muttered, content to zone out again. He was so tired that he wasn’t certain why he hadn’t already started crying.

Suddenly one of the grilled cheese slices was shoved in front of his vision.

“Wha?” He blinked and turned to look at the source of said sandwich slice. It was Noah, pushing the sandwich half at him.

[Share], Noah signed.

John blinked before accepting the half. He started to eat, deciding not to argue. He was quite famished and Nightwing was making more anyway.

The meal seemed to drag on forever. John didn’t really have a sense of time. Noah was decently safe, and John’s lack of self-care was catching up to him. He struggled to pay attention to anything. By the time he finished eating, each bite felt like climbing a bloody mountain.

“Okay,” Nightwing said. “Up you both get. I’ve got a room ready for you.”

John scooped up Noah, who had the phone, Mr. President and his picture now to hold onto. Noah felt ten times heavier than he had at any point that day. John didn’t complain. He didn’t even make a face. He just followed, too tired to even ogle Nightwing’s prodigious glutes.

Distantly, he wondered if Nightwing had just let the computer pick a room or if he’d gone and gotten everything together himself. He had no idea if Nightwing had left the kitchen at any point or not. He was pretty sure Batman could have done the Macarena in front of him and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Here you go,” Nightwing said. “There’s a bathroom attached. Just take your time. There isn’t a schedule.”

“Thanks, mate,” John mumbled.

He got them inside and set Noah on the bed. He stumbled back to the door to lock it. He had enough brain power left to kick his shoes into a corner, pull off his belt and toss it to join the shoes, shortly followed by the coat and the tie. By the time he turned to look around Noah had also shed his shoes and jacket and laid down on the bed. John hesitated for a moment before grabbing his coat.

He climbed into bed, dragged Noah and Mr. President against his chest and covered them with his coat. He pulled it up so high that the coat covered Noah’s head. John heard a little giggle from down near his chest. He ducked his head under the coat too.

“No monsters can get through the magic force field,” he said, his voice rough from how much energy it took to speak each word. “Nothing can get past it. You’re safe, Noah.”

Noah didn’t sign anything, but he gave John a short, perfect smile. Then he nestled against John’s chest and closed his eyes. He was asleep so fast, like he really thought he was safe. John lied about the force field, and it was like Noah believed him anyway.

John had never been so terrified in his life before.

The exhaustion won and he was deep asleep in no time.

Interlude

“Did you get them settled?” Bruce asked Clark when he returned.

“Nightwing has them. Pretty sure Constantine was asleep on his feet by the time we hit the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not alert before.”

“He gets caught unaware too often to not let his guard down occasionally.”

“Well, he relaxed a lot once he was with Noah again. He was extremely tense when he first arrived.”

“If you had to ask people you didn’t like or trust for a favor, you’d be tense as well,” Bruce pointed out. “I’ve called Diana. She should be here soon.”

“Good,” Clark said, lowering himself into his seat with a tired sigh. “Noah’s really cute. His bear’s named Mr. President. That’s adorable.”

Despite himself, Bruce’s mouth twitched in amusement. “To be fair, when he named the bear, Obama would have been President.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t considered that,” Clark said.

Bruce saw Clark perk up a little. He must be hearing the Zeta. Not even a minute later, Diana walked into the room.

“What’s the situation?” She asked. He’d told her it was important and a bit urgent, but not an emergency or anything she needed to be worried about. As such, she was fairly relaxed when she strode into the room. She dropped into her regular seat and glanced between them.

“Zatanna arrived at the Watch Tower with John Constantine within the last hour,” Bruce said. Diana’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“I was under the impression he was not interested in the Justice League. Why is he here? You told me it wasn’t an emergency.”

“It’s an emergency for him,” Clark said, unhelpfully. Bruce shot him a bland look. Diana was frowning deeper. “He arrived with his son, asking for help.”

“I wasn’t aware he had children,” Diana noted.

“He’s only become aware of that fact in the last month,” Bruce explained. “Apparently his son should be 16 but was hit was magic that reverted him to 9 years old.”

“Aging magic does tend to be tricky,” Diana noted.

“My research indicates that Noah Ikumelo was briefly affiliated with a gang in London, which has fallen apart since its leader’s death,” Bruce said. “His mother was a well-respected police officer. All other ties seem to be dead or rather weak. Constantine asked us to assure that Noah’s mother continues to be cared for. He gave the impression that they could not safely return to London.”

“Well, that certainly makes it easier to forge a new identity if no one is looking for his old identity,” Diana said. “But that isn’t why you’ve called me here. Can I assume he’s asked for asylum?”

“To a greater or lesser degree,” Clark answered. “He wants papers and a place he can stay with Noah. He also indicated that he won’t be able to simply walk away from his work.”

“Given what we know about him, that’s hardly surprising,” Diana said. “You both have an idea of what to do with him?”

“It’s been noted that Gotham is pretty cursed,” Clark said lightly like it wasn’t a huge headache for Bruce who did not like dealing with magic if he could help it. Unfortunately, it was there whether Bruce liked it or not.

“I’m surprised you would agree to allow Constantine to live in your city.” Diana also seemed amused, which Bruce did not find amusing.

“It was my idea,” Bruce said. “I don’t want anyone in my family playing with magic, but I recognize that there are problems I cannot handle without some understanding of magic.”

“You? Asking for help? I can’t believe it,” Diana gasped, clasping her heart.

“Don’t tease him too much, Diana. You know how hard this is for him.” Clark’s eyes were dancing with mirth.

“My proposal,” Bruce said forcefully. “Is to induct John Constantine as part of the Justice League, at least in the capacity as a consultant.”

“Ah, and that’s why you need me,” Diana noted. If all three of them approved of the plan, the rest of the Justice League didn’t have a lot of grounds to argue. “Will that be enough to control him?”

“He’ll have to report any magic use or magical creatures in my city to me,” Bruce said. “This should, unfortunately, keep him busy enough that he can stay in one city for quite a while.”

“Sometimes I think the only thing keeping Gotham from sinking into the Atlantic Ocean is your constant supervision.” Clark’s observation was not appreciated, even though Bruce had felt that way often enough in his life.

“This appears to be a good solution,” Diana said. “I can approve of this course of action. Bruce, you are going to be the primary one keeping track of Constantine. Are you willing to accept that?”

Bruce was still for a moment. “I can think of a lot I would do to protect my children,” he finally admitted. He couldn’t help it. Despite how he would deny it outside of that meeting, he knew that his main reason for proposing the plan was because he understood what it felt like to be desperate and willing to make a bad deal to protect the people he loved.

John woke feeling properly rested. He wasn’t certain at first how long he was out for. He hadn’t checked the clock before he passed out. It was only Vestibulan’s bellyaching that told him he’d been asleep for near 11 hours. Noah apparently woke after 8 and had either been playing with Mr. President or playing some game Vestibulan downloaded for him to play, after faking paying some company tons of money so Noah could play without ads or interruption.

It amused John, to say the least, to see Vestibulan apparently growing a soft spot for John’s sprog. Or maybe he just wanted to distract Noah from playing music again.

John took a shower and changed into something from the suitcase. Noah got himself washed up and got to change his underwear but otherwise was stuck with the clothes the nice village people gave him the previous day.

He held Noah’s hand while the pair of them set out in search of the kitchen again. When he finally located said kitchen, he found Wonder Woman and Nightwing talking over cups of coffee.

“Any beans left?” John asked.

“More than enough,” Diana said, sounding amused.

Noah tugged away from John and started to sign at Nightwing.

[You’re still here?]

“I actually went home and patrolled before coming back,” he said. “But yeah, basically.”

[Did you sleep?]

“That comes after.”

“After what?” John asked.

“We’ll discuss it once you’ve eaten,” Wonder Woman said.

John chose not to argue. Talking a goddess around was not something he felt up to without coffee.

A full breakfast and two cups of coffee later, John held Noah’s hand while they were guided back to the meeting room. Batman and Superman were there waiting for them.

“So?” John asked once the gang was all together.

“We’ve handled the paperwork,” Batman said. That was enough of a relief that John was able to let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for days.

“Okay, great. And the other thing?”

“Congratulations, you’re moving to Gotham,” Superman said with a big smile, like the bastard he was.

“I’m what now?” He couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. He looked to Batman, expecting the well-known ‘I work alone’-hero to tell Superman to stop screwing around. To John’s horror, Batman nodded instead.

“You’ll be moving to Gotham,” Batman repeated.

“Don’t you have a whole ban on other heroes?” John’s voice sounded quite strained in his ears.

“I have been reliably informed that Gotham is a wellspring of curses and magic. Therefore, it’s become necessary to address these issues.”

“You mean for me to address those issues.”

“You did say you wanted to stay put for a while,” Superman said, far too pleased with John’s budding misery.

Noah tugged on his pants to get his attention. When John looked down, Noah started to sign to him.

[Are we moving in with Batman?]

“We aren’t moving in with Batman,” John said.

“You are temporarily moving in with Batman,” Nightwing said, cutting John’s legs out from under him and giving him a massive headache with just seven words.

Now John had heard everything. His mouth dropped open. He stared between the four heroes, hoping someone would decide to be reasonable and see how insane that was. But no, they just looked at him impassively.

“Why?” he asked weakly.

“Until other accommodations can be arranged,” Batman said.

“Right,” John muttered. “So, what’s the catch?”

“You will be joining the Justice League,” Wonder Woman said. “As a consultant. If something arises and you are called to assist, then you will come and assist to the best of your ability.”

“Shit,” John said. He should have known something like that was coming.

“Realistically, Gotham’s going to keep you so busy, you probably won’t get called on all that often,” Nightwing said.

“You’re also to report all magic use, yours or others, in the city,” Batman stated. “And any magic-using entities. I will be keeping careful track.” That last sentence was definite a threat.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. This was exactly the type of shite he did not want to deal with. But he’d asked for a couple of big favors. Those types of requests came with a price and payment.

“I am not going to respond to any government agencies,” he said.

“It would be for the best if you didn’t,” Superman said. Well, thanks for that comment. It was a relief, though.

“Alright,” John said. “Where do I sign?”

Batman, bless his paranoid soul, actually pulled out contracts. John ran a hand through Noah’s hair.

“Is this going to take a minute?” John asked. Watching John sign contracts was not going to be interesting for a nine-year old. Hell, John was not going to find it interesting, and he was about to be seventy.

“I can take Noah if you’re both happy with that,” Superman offered.

[Play?] Noah signed, smiling shyly. Damn, his kid was cute.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Superman pointed out. He offered Noah his hand. Noah looked up at John.

“Go on,” John said. He pulled his phone out and held it up. “Vestibulan, you better call if something happens.” He handed Noah his phone before Vestibulan could start to bitch.

Noah beamed, holding onto it and Mr. President tightly as he grabbed Superman’s hand. John watched Superman lead his son out before he focused on the contracts. He wasn’t about to sign something he hadn’t read thoroughly, after all. Loopholes were his entire way of life.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering,” Batman said. “Why did you not also request to bring Noah’s mother here as well?”

“Didn’t want to push our luck, mate.” John glanced at Batman who was staring so impassively at John that his guts started to squirm. “I told him she’d died so he wouldn’t fight me about leaving.”

“Well, that’s not ideal, but we could still bring her here,” Nightwing said like the bloody optimist he was.

“No,” John said bluntly. “Look, she saw the true face of a boggart. Totally fried her brain. There’s no one in that body at this point. There’s nothing. I even checked later. There’s nothing to be done except torture the kid… there’s nothing I or anyone else can do.”

He saw the heroes look between themselves, judging his choices. That was fine, he judged his choices too.

“Let’s get back to the forms, shall we,” he said before burying his nose in paperwork.

Contracts took ages, always did. He probably should have gotten a law degree with how many of them he’d read in his life. Maybe that’s what he should put on his business card: John Constantine, Contract Lawyer for the magically inclined, elementally haunted and the damned.

Well, that was dumb, but it wasn’t much worse than the poncy print he hadn’t fixed in over a decade.

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that it took him about six hours, with stops for meals and Noah crawling in his lap at some point and taking a nap against his chest. John pretended like he didn’t see Nightwing and Wonder Woman taking pictures. He also pretended like he wasn’t going to bother them to get a copy later.

John had never been that cuddly at nine, but also his father was such a bastard that he learned really fast that being touched and held by family was bad. He wondered if that was normal for nine-year-olds. He wondered if maybe Noah’s mother had given the kid a lot of physical affection growing up. He wondered if maybe it was just that so much had changed and the kid wasn’t that (mentally) far from the event that stole his voice and his mother, and suddenly having someone who would give comfort meant he was going to soak up all he could while he could. John wasn’t complaining. Even if Noah reverted back and hated him for the choices he made and the lies he told, he wanted at least one picture to prove that at least for a moment he wasn’t a terrible dad.

Eventually he did finish the paperwork, after two meal breaks, a napping child in his arms and a call from Z where he told her that he really did not need her to come check on them with four Justice League members hovering around. He’d read everything and signed everything. He even got Batman to print him out copies. He folded those up and put them in the pocket of his coat.

“We can go now,” Batman stated.

“Thank fuck,” John said. He pointed to Noah’s coloring pages. “Noah, you mind if I fold these up?”

[Folds yes, wrinkles no], Noah signed. John grinned at him. He took a moment to fold the stack of pictures Noah had drawn and colored into a nice and even rectangle that he put in the same pocket with the legal documents.

He scooped his son up after that. Noah wrapped an arm around his neck, hugging onto Mr. President with the other arm. He turned in John’s arms to look at the assembled heroes. He waved to them, especially Superman.

“It was good to meet you, young warrior,” Wonder Woman said. “Your father has joined our team, so we will see each other again.”

“Yes, really,” Superman said before Noah could untangle a hand to ask. “I had fun today. We’ll play again sometimes.”

Noah grinned, blushed and hid his face in John’s shoulder. John had never loved anyone so much in his life.

“Come on, let’s catch the Zeta to the Batcave,” John said to Noah.

Their little group saw its way to the Zetas. Nightwing went through first with the suitcase. It gave Noah a chance to wave goodbye again. John and Noah went second. Batman would be following shortly afterwards.

John stepped out of the tube the second they arrived. The Batcave was a lot more cave-like than John would have expected.

“How can he live like this,” John mumbled.

“You’d be surprised,” Nightwing said. “I contacted Agent A. He’ll be down to help in a minute. Everyone else should be on patrol.”

“Not everyone,” came a voice way too haughty for how young it sounded.

“Little D, it’s kind of late. And it’s a school night,” Nightwing said, stepping around John, approaching the little kid who was stalking across the Batcave, glaring like it was his mission in live.

“Tomorrow is a Teacher work day,” the boy stated like Nightwing was a moron. “Father informed Pennyworth that strangers were coming to stay with us. I needed to assure they are not here to harm the family.”

[You’re a poncy arsehole], Noah signed. John had one second where he hoped that the other kid didn’t know sign. But then the kid’s face darkened with anger and his little cheeks puffed up.

“How dare you insult me! You are weak enough that you need to be carried around,” the kid snapped.

[It’s not weak to want to be held, dumbarse. And I’m 9. It’s fine.]

“Nine is far too old to be acting like an infant. I no longer needed physical comfort by the time I was two.”

“That’s not really good,” Nightwing said quietly.

[That’s sad.] And Noah looked like he actually pitied that kid. That was apparently the exact wrong to express.

“Okay-” John started.

“How dare-” the kid started shouting

“Damian!” Batman snapped from behind John. He glided around them until he was standing infront of the annoying little brat. “That’s enough.”

“Father, you didn’t see how this- this infant insulted me. I-”

“That’s enough,” Batman growled, making Damian shut up. “They are our guests for a few days. You will be polite, or I will ask Alfred to not make you desserts until they have gone.”

What in the entire fuck?

“I didn’t realize you had kids, Batman,” John said, keeping his tone neutral.

“I have six,” Batman said. He pulled his cowl off and John Constantine was faced with the absolutely gorgeous face of Bruce Wayne, voted the world’s most beautiful man multiple times over. The bumbling, no-common-sense, absolute picture of too rich to have sense Bruce Wayne was the world’s best detective, the guy who John had just signed his life away to.

“What in the entire fuck!” John shouted.

“You should refrain from using profanity while you’re here, Mr. Constantine,” said the very posh butler said as he approached. “We take swear jars very seriously.”

[Hello. Are you Agent A? Nightwing said you taught him sign.]

The butler smiled. “That would be me. Alfred Pennyworth, at your service, young master. You may call me Alfred, if you wish.”

Noah hesitated a second before quickly signing [Can I call you Mr. Pennyworth?]

“If that makes you most comfortable, Master Noah.”

“I think I need to sit down,” John said, absolutely overwhelmed.

“Then may I suggest upstairs in the dining room. I understand your dinner was lacking. Master Bruce and Master Dick can change and join us in a moment.”

“Right, sounds good, mate,” John said, too tired to argue.

“Master Damian, you will come help me set the table for our guests.”

Damian didn’t protest. He was such a brat that John expected it, but given the way Pennyworth was looking at Damian and Damian was looking at him, it was immensely clear exactly who was the ultimate authority in the household and it definitely wasn’t Batman.

John really needed a drink and a ciggie. Or at least more nicotine gum.

“This way then, if you please,” Pennyworth said, turning back toward the elevator from whence he came.

John silently followed. He was glad Noah was steadfastly staying in his arms. John had been worried about how much had changed for Noah in such a short time and the stress that would cause, but maybe he should have been worried about himself. He was an adaptable bastard, sure, but even he had a limit of how much weird and strange he could sanely handle in one sitting and John had blown past that hours back.

The Batcave was apparently sitting right underneath Wayne’s mansion. John had known that the Justice League had billionaires on their call sheet, given the expensive shite they managed to build and afford. Turns out they had billionaires on the team too, in very active roles.

“How many of Batman’s children are also into crime fighting?” John heard himself ask.

“Hmph. All of us. Though I am the superior Robin,” Damian said proudly.

“Right,” John said. That didn’t make him feel particularly good about Batman’s parenting skills. “I didn’t realize there were more than three.”

“There have been more than five, actually,” Pennyworth said, sounding amused. “But of the Robins Batman trained, there are five.”

“What, one for each kid, give or take?” Six kids, five Robins. One of them had gotten skipped over.

“Miss Brown has not been adopted, despite Master Bruce’s best efforts,” Pennyworth said. “Only four of Master Wayne’s legal children have taken up the title.”

“Great. Cool. Kid, how long after you been training to be a Batman sidekick?”

“Hmph! I am Batman’s partner-”

“Sure, yeah, sorry. Bit worn out, my brain isn’t working right now, I’m ‘fraid,” John said before Damian could blow up.

“I have been raised to be father’s successor since I was born,” Damian said.

“Damian came to us a few years ago,” Pennyworth added, seeming to pick up on what John was trying to actually ask. So, it wasn’t Batman who taught Damian to be afraid of asking for comfort. Good. John would hate to have to hex the man who was providing Noah with a potentially stable home.

They finally arrived in the dining room. They were instructed to pick seats. John set Noah down so he could pick his and then John just sat next to him. Pennyworth and Damian disappeared for a moment, leaving John and Noah alone.

“You okay, kid?” John asked.

[Better than you, I think.]

John chuckled darky. “Yeah, it looks like. But how are you feeling?”

[Tired. Hungry. Want a room with a lock you can spell, and no one will bother us.]

“I’m pretty sure we can get that,” John said.

Noah hesitated for a moment. When he began signing again it was slow and extremely hesitant.

[Do you think I’m a baby?]

“I know what you mean, but you and Damian both look like infants to me. The downside of me being on the wrong side of 60.”

That seemed to surprise Noah, but after a moment he shook his head. [I liked you holding me when I was asleep.]

“Me too,” John said.

[Mum wanted me sleep in my own bed. I was only supposed to come in if I had a nightmare.] Noah paused, but he seemed to want to sign more, so John stayed quiet and waited. [Is it okay if I don’t want to sleep in my own bed?]

“It’s better than okay,” John said. He leaned on his elbow so he was a little closer to Noah. “I don’t think this will work for us forever, but right now I feel safer if I can reach you, especially when one or both of us is asleep.”

[Me too], Noah signed, smiling like a little star.

Pennyworth and Damian came out with trays of food then. It wasn’t a huge amount, perhaps a nod to the fact that they had eaten only an hour before, even if it was only grilled cheese for the third meal in a row. Still, the meal laid out for them looked, smelled and tasted delicious. John was especially grateful for the meat pies. Only a desire to not look lame in front of Noah kept him from crying about how good they were.

“Master Bruce hasn’t stated just how long you’ll be with us,” Pennyworth said when they were finishing up their meal. “I’ve made up rooms on the assumption you would be here for a week or two.”

“No idea, mate,” John said after he’d stifled a yawn. “But we just need one room right now.”

Damian looked like he wanted to say something, and Noah looked like he was daring him to open his mouth. John scratched his forehead, trying to not think about how much Noah reminded him of himself. It could not be more clear that Damian could kick his arse, but Noah still looked ready to commit the sign equivalent of John opening his big fat mouth and making any situation way, way worse.

“Of course,” Alfred said, breaking up the impending disaster.

“Question, any chance I’d be good to leave Noah her for like an hour or two tomorrow?”

[Why?] Noah signed, offended at being pawned off.

“Sorry, kid,” John said. “I have to see one more person before I can get us squared away. I won’t be gone that long, most likely.”

[You’ll come back?]

“Absolutely, I promise,” John said as genuinely as possible. Still, he couldn’t be entirely sure. But he was pretty certain it wouldn’t take that long.

“Don’t worry,” Alfred said. “He will be well protected in these walls.”

“Thanks.” John would have to check any warding on the mansion and add a bunch more, most likely. But for a couple hours, it should be alright.

Pennyworth got them up and guided them to the guest rooms. He pointed out the one he’d set up for Noah but let them into the one for John. It was bigger than most places John had ever lived, House of Mysteries aside. Pennyworth mentioned that they had clothes in storage that were probably about Noah’s size and would suffice until they could acquire Noah clothes of his own. John was grateful, but those wouldn’t get to him until the morning.

Before that, John pulled out Noah’s only other set of clothes: the pajamas he’d appeared in. John took a short shower, coming out in his shorts. He’d probably have to buy actual pajamas, but considering he generally slept nude, shorts were as comfortable as he was going to get.

He yawned when he crawled under the ridiculously silky sheets. Noah was already settled in the middle of the bed with Mr. President tucked against his chest. John wrapped both arms around him and dragged him against his chest. Any tension left in Noah’s body completely melted away.

They were both asleep in minutes.

After a breakfast where John got to meet the entire Batclan (or at least all of the members who had dedicated rooms at the manor) John left Noah with two of the Wayne kids. Noah became immediately enamored with Cassandra (who knew sign multiple different sign languages and read body language so well that it was even easier for Noah to communicate with her) and Duke (who Noah insisted had one of the coolest powers ever). They were also kind enough to say they’d keep an eye on Noah for him.

After that, it was a few words to Bruce Wayne (that was going to be weird forever, John was sure), and then two Zeta tube rides to LA. From there, John took a cab to a piano bar he wasn’t particularly excited to walk into. He came significantly less excited when he saw the object of his mission seated alone at a table with wine already set out.

“John Constantine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” A wicked smile and eyes as sharp as knives greeted him, while their wearer pulled the cork on the bottle of wine and began to pour two glasses.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” John said, dropping into the seat the devil had chosen for him. “I need a favor.”

“Mmm, rather ballsy of you to come right to me and ask for a favor,” Lucifer said, pushing one of the glasses to John. He accepted and took a sip, despite wanting to throw the whole thing back. He was trying to mind his manners, after all.

“Yes, but I would also like to avoid taking up any more of your morning than I have too. I’m thoughtful like that.”

“So thoughtful,” Lucifer said, his eyes so intent that it felt like he was stripping John’s skin from his bones.

“Right,” John said. “Right to business then.”

“You are the one who wants to hurry this along. Which is interesting, since you’re normally much more about pleasure than business.”

“It’s important,” John admitted. He bit his tongue for a moment. He really was about to do this, put himself and his son at risk for a chance. But he had it on good authority that Lucifer had spent enough time recently in the presence of a child that he might be somewhat sympathetic.

“Then speak.”

“I discovered recently that I have a son,” John said all at once. “Before a lovely little de-aging spell, he was nearly an adult and mostly able to take care of himself. Now he’s nine and I’ve claimed him. I already know demons smell his blood and think it’s mine… he’s vulnerable.”

Lucifer was staring at him, taking all of him in, possibly trying to read his very soul. John sipped his drink and let Lucifer do whatever he wanted, no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel.

“What do you think I can do to assist you?” Lucifer asked after long moments of silence.

“I’ve already got ownership of my person split all up. Noah doesn’t have any of that sort of protection. I want you to stake a claim.”

Lucifer raised one perfect brow. “You want me to write my name on your child’s soul, declare him to be mine? You know that can be quite a ticket to the one place I know you don’t want him to go.”

“I’m aware,” John said. “I don’t want a full signature. I just need… something so any other demon catches your scent and backs off. Maybe even makes the angels think my kid’s worth putting a little effort in trying to ‘win him back’ from you.”

Lucifer drained his wine glass and poured himself more. He topped up John’s glass without asking if he wanted more.

“Well, you have thought this out. Now, you want me to protect your son at absolutely no benefit to myself, and possibly to my detriment if someone upstairs decides I’m back to my old tricks.”

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“And what are you going to offer me?” Lucifer was leaning in closer, his gaze intent, like a viper waiting to strike. John swallowed thickly.

“What do you want?”

Lucifer sat back in his chair, tipped his head back and laughed.

“Oh, this is funny. The careful, cautious John Constantine deciding to hand me a blank check.”

“I don’t know that I have much of a reputation as careful or cautious.”

“You do when it comes to saving your own skin,” Lucifer said, his gaze even more intent than before. “You’re willing to sign it all away right here, aren’t you? What if I said I wanted you dead?”

John’s heart seized. His eyes ached with tears he did not want to Lucifer to see him shed. He wanted to stay with Noah. He didn’t want to have lied to him again, even if he would probably be safer with the Waynes than with John himself.

“I- I’d ask that you give me a chance to say goodbye,” John said slowly. He swallowed again. “But yes, if you want, then you can have my life.”

Lucifer regarded him for another long, silent moment.

“To be honest with you, your life is worth little, especially because your soul has so many owners… but no, that is not what I want anyway.”

“Is there…” John hesitated. Lucifer stared at him, waiting patiently for John to debase himself by suggesting something humiliating. “If you want my body. I’m told I’m a pretty good lay.” He offered a weak smile, trying to make a joke, as if he wouldn’t whore himself to Lucifer Morningstar or anyone else to protect Noah.

“No,” Lucifer said bluntly and immediately. “I prefer my lovers actually willing.”

John couldn’t help the relieved breath that punched out of him. “Then what can I give you?”

“I want a favor,” Lucifer said.

“What is it?” What could Lucifer need that he had to ask a favor as well?

“Oh, nothing right now,” Lucifer said. He was smirking, the bastard. “I want,” he said, speaking slowly, enunciating each word with great care to draw the moment out. “An open favor from you. You may not contract out it to anyone else. I can call it in at any point. It lasts however long I say it does. You do not get to say no, or change terms, or do anything other than what I command. And only I will get to decide when I’m satisfied. Do you understand? If you try to wriggle out of the deal when I come to collect, I will not only withdraw my interest, I will specifically draw a target on your child’s back. So, no matter how debasing, no matter how cruel, no matter how much you hate it, no matter how much you or someone else will hurt, no matter what you do or do not want, you will come when I call, and do as I say until I say you are done. Am I clear?”

John swallowed. He was going to owe the devil a favor, one he had no say in doing once the bill came due. He knew he would regret it later. Lucifer had walked off the board, for the moment, but he could walk back on whenever he felt like it, and then he would have John Constantine as a weapon at his disposal.

It was a bad deal; a really, really shitty deal, and John didn’t have a choice.

“Deal,” John rasped out.

Lucifer’s smile was sharper than any knife. “Perfect.”

A small glass flask appeared in Lucifer’s hand. He pushed it into John’s hands.

“Give this to your son, have him drink the entire thing. It won’t hurt him or even taste bad. That will leave the mark you desire.”

John closed his hands around the flask. “Thank you.”

“Let’s see if you’ll still thank me once I call in that favor,” Lucifer said, smirking broadly. “Now go.”

John paused only long enough to drain his wine glass, then he left like a bat out of hell.

John was not in a good mood when he got back to the Batcave. The longest part of the trip was the walk back to Titans Tower. He had walked to try and get some of his nervous energy out, and potentially walk off some of the wine. He swiped some breath mints from Titan’s Tower, hoping he could squash the smell of sour grapes with mint.

The Zeta rides were far too short, which quickly left him in the Batcave, faced with Bruce Fucking Wayne who wasn’t even his costume.

“What is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done for one of your kids?” John demanded, striding over to Bruce like he had any business asserting dominance in the house of the man who was helping John do CYA.

“I attempted to kill the Ambassador to Iran,” Bruce said. He gave no further details and John decided he wasn’t going to ask. There was a story there, but that might mean reciprocating, which he decidedly was not going to do.

“Yeah, well,” he said, deciding he really didn’t have anything to add. “Nap sounds good.”

“Try to be well rested when you have to return to the field.” John guessed that was Batman’s attempt at a pep talk.

“Thanks, mate,” he said half under his breath. He headed right to the elevator and let it take him up. He couldn’t get all of the endless horrible possibilities out of his head for what Lucifer might demand of him.

Unfortunately, one of the very real possibilities was that John was just entertainment for Lucifer. Lucifer did seem like the type to keep John on the hook to watch him squirm. But John didn’t know, and while that might be the reason, things changed. Who knew what Lucifer would want when he finally cashed in his favor.

He pinched the bridge of his nose the rest of the short trip up to Wayne’s study. The second he got out of the elevator he started speed walking, needing to locate Noah. It wouldn’t make the guilt or fear of what he’d just done go away, but he would stop being so terrified for his son’s safety when he could hold him again.

He headed down to the gameroom where he’d last seen his kid before he left. When he poked his head in, he found Cassandra and Duke, but no Noah.

“Where’s the kid?” he demanded, sounding more panicked than he expected to sound.

“Bedroom,” Cassandra said.

John shot out of the room, heading right back to their bedroom, walking so fast that he was about to break into a run. He skidded to a stop outside the door. He knocked twice before letting himself in.

He found Noah perfectly safe, sitting on the bed, which was occupied by Mr. President but also the older Mr. President and the messed-up army men John had collected from Noah’s flat.

“Noah?” he asked as he shut the door behind him. Noah twitched, but didn’t answer. John crossed the distance between them and sat down on the bed next to his son.

“You okay?” John asked.

[I remember stitching these eyebrows on Mr. President], Noah signed, looking down at the more beat up bear which did indeed have eyebrows embroidered on its face. [And I remember breaking the army men. But I didn’t do those things until I was 13 and I’m 9.]

Noah turned his head to look up at John. Two fat tears slipped from his eyes, running down his cheeks, following the tear tracks that were already there. [What’s wrong with me?]

John let out a breath. “You were hit with a spell,” he said. “You were 16 only a few days ago. Your old memories are blending with this younger version of you. It’s going to make things confusing. I’m sorry I can’t fix that.”

[Can you fix me back?]

“I can’t,” John said. “Age regression spells are tricky. I could age you too far forward or too far backwards. And since your memories are blending, that probably means you won’t just change back on your own.”

Noah’s hands shook as he signed the next words. [Do you not want me to be 16?]

“No, I never said that,” John said. He drew a handkerchief from one of his pockets. He gripped Noah’s chin gently with his thumb and forefinger and began to carefully wipe away the tears.

[If I change back, will you still be my dad?]

“I’m afraid that’s something neither of us can shake whether we want to or not,” John said. His mouth tugged into a bitter smile. “Sorry, it’s just dangerous to be related to me.”

[Do you not want me?] Noah’s bottom lips was trembling as much as his hands. That was what finally broke John. He grabbed his son and dragged him into his lap, hugging him as tight as he could and not hurt Noah.

“I want you,” John said. “I want you so damn much. I want you to be safe and happy and loved. I don’t want you to be hurt. And I want you to always feel like you can come to me for help, no matter what.”

Noah froze for a few seconds before his arms went around John’s neck and started to squeeze him back in return.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t want you… I never thought I’d have kids, you see. It never seemed like a good idea. But you’re a goddamn miracle. And I’m so bloody grateful that I met you.”

Noah sniffled under his ear before he pulled back so John could see his hands.

[Will you still hold me if I get big?]

“I will, Noah. I promise,” John said, smiling a little. “Turns out when I’m hugging you, I’m happier than I’ve been in my entire life.”

[That’s pretty pathetic.] Noah looked concerned for him. John barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, I know, kid. Really, though, I’m always going to want a hug, okay?”

Noah nodded rapidly.

[Will you tell me where you went?]

“To get this,” John said, pulling Lucifer’s glass flask from his pocket.

[Is it magic?]

“Sort of,” John said. “I know someone who’s a big deal, so big that most people will never try to mess with you if they know he’s got his eye on you. Well, I say people, I mean demons and the like.”

Noah stared at him for a long moment. [You said magic had a price. And the price is bigger than the prize. What’s the price?]

“I owe someone a favor I don’t want to be owing a favor to,” John said. “I’m about 70% sure he just wants me to owe him one so he can hold it over my head.”

[And the rest?]

“I’m not sure,” John said. “Thing is, I already agreed to the deal. Whether you drink this or not, I’m on the hook. So, you might as well drink.”

Noah gave him strong side eyes. [Is it going to hurt?]

“No. He assured me it wouldn’t even taste bad.”

Noah stared at him for another minute before he took the flask. He uncapped it and started to gulp it down. The whole thing was gone in three gulps. Then they just had the empty flask and stopper. Noah put the stopper back in and dropped the flash next to the eyebrow’ed Mr. President.

“How was it?”

[How can something have less flavor than water?]

John laughed in surprise. Well, Lucifer was good on his word.

[Did it do anything?]

“Let me see.” John laid a hand on Noah’s forehead. He closed his eyes and began searching for the changes. It hit him almost as soon he started looking.

Lucifer really did masterful work. It wasn’t a full claim, it was more like one of those signs on the road proclaiming a hole in the ground to be a ‘Future Home of McDonald’s’. It was enough to not automatically damn a little boy, but also make most things back off.

“Yeah, it did exactly what I asked,” John said. “Which is just to give you… a little guard angel, you could say.”

Noah wrinkled his nose. [I don’t think I like angels. I don’t remember why.]

“I do. You like Vestibulan.”

[He’s okay, but I don’t exactly like him.]

“Yeah, probably for the best,” John admitted. “Look, this guy, he just gave you a really, really good shield. Most everyone will keep their hands off you. So, I won’t have to be so scared all the time.”

Noah nodded. He laid his cheek against John’s chest. John kicked his shoes off so he could pull his legs up on the bed and hold Noah proper.

“I have you, Noah,” John said. “Dad’s not going anywhere. He’s going to take care of you. Promise.”

After a few moments, Noah’s breathing evened out. John didn’t know if Noah was exhausted from all the excitement or whatever Lucifer put in the bottle. Either way, the result was the same. John was pretty sure no one had ever trusted him so much in his entire life. He was going to move heaven and earth if he had to in order not to break that trust. Noah was never going to have a father call him useless and a killer. He was never going to be burned or hit for fun. He was never going to question that someone loved him, that he was worth love.

Because John loved him, and he was willing to give anything for Noah. He was more than worth it.