In his experience, every man was known for that "one thing" that made him special, unique. If he took the effort to share his convictions, he was sure the women in his life would have been applauded that he reduced himself, and his entire sex, to such a limited definition, but these days Chas didn't really care what anyone – outside of John – thought.
John was a man who proved his point. Condensed down, everyone who knew the exorcist would come to the same least common denominator – John was... magic. Neither good nor bad, black nor white, cursed nor blessed, the constant was, like the man's name implied, the magic.
Chas' father had been defined in the bottom of his cup.
Very few people knew that what truly made Chas different was his immortality. Only a handful of people, knew that secret. Of himself there was only one thing everyone who knew him, would agree upon. His ex-wife, his kid, Liv, Zed, and the lingering folks who surrounded Constantine like mayflies, would say he was defined by the bright yellow cab used to ferry them from one aborted apocalypse to another. Now she was "totaled?"
Looking at the insurance adjuster's report one last time, his eyes grazed over the word like they were some ancient glyph from one of John's spells.
Without that cab, I'm like John not wearing his trench coat, or smoking his smelly "fags." Without her... I'm like my old man sucking at the empty bottle of Thunderbird. I'm just some guy, boring and unidentifiable. I can't be me driving John's tetanus-ridden pick-up truck.
"No," he decided, and shoved the form back at the man in the short-sleeved shirt and the clip-on tie. "Get that vulture away from my baby," he gestured at the tow truck driver with the greasy complexion and beady eyes from Joey's Scrap Metal Recycling.
"Calm down Mr. Chandler, we're only trying to help you with your car's final arrangements."
"She's not dead," Chas growled and the insurance undertaker stepped back as the anger radiated off the six-foot-four inch man.
"I understand cars can have sentimental value, Mr. Chandler, but it isn't a person. Take the settlement and find a new vehicle."
Just then John pulled up in that powder-blue monstrosity.
"Oh, bloody hell, Chas, that's worse than I remembered," he said, flicking his blunted out cigarette to the asphalt. Chas nodded.
"You know what? Fuck both of you, you'll take her away over my dead body." Chad smiled, thinking that the man would have a long time to wait for that day.
The trunk of the cab was undamaged, so Chas popped it open and took out a tow strap. Without consulting, John backed the truck up, bed to nose and Chas attached the strap to the cross member
He forced the crumpled driver's side door open and wedged himself into the shorten space. He ground the damaged gears until she popped into neutral, but at least the hazard lights still worked. They limped her back to the barn behind the mill and half-pleaded, half-threatened her until she rest above the lift Jasper had installed.
Stopping the rising darkness wasn't something that could be put off for her sake, but once Constantine had gotten the job done, there would be magic enough left for one last resurrection.