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The cab was parked under the old building in downtown LA. It smelled of smoke and old candies, but Chas had gotten used to it. He was flipping through an old book from Papa Midnite's. It was mostly about demons and deporting half-breeds and that sort of thing. As usual, John had called him for a ride and then left him in the car. It really stung when John did that. Chas wanted to be helpful and he really wanted to learn more about his 'Master's' line of work, but he was stuck outside waiting. He really was just John's slave, wasn't he?

Sometimes, when he sat in the cab, he dreamt he was Constantine. THE John Constantine. Or at least, a copy of him. He pictured himself in a few years, wearing a dark suit, with his curly hair hanging around his face carelessly. He'd look dangerous, even with the piece of licorice always caught between his teeth. What an impression he'd make... all the half-breeds in Angel City would know him! Kramer... Chas Kramer.

On a whim, he looked up at the mirror and narrowed his eyes sharply. "This is Kramer," he growled. "Chas Kramer, - asshole."

Suddenly feeling very foolish, he turned away. John was the real asshole. He muttered the swear again. He would prove to John that he was just as intimidating as him. He felt a surge of confidence. He spun around to the mirror again. "What, John, you didn't hear me? Oh... This is Kramer... Chas Karmer, asshole."

"CHAS!"

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin. He didn't see the exorcist anywhere.

"CHAS!"

He stuck his head out the window. John's black hair hung over the rail. "WHAT?"

"MOVE THE CAR!"

"WHY?"

"JUST MOVE THE DAMN CAR!"

Chas growled, put the cab in reverse and pulled back about two feet. "There, car's moved."

Then John's ashy voice shouted down, "ON SECOND THOUGHT, MOVE THE CAR AND GET UP HERE!"

Chas felt his heart race. John wanted his help! Any bitterness he had felt previously was gone now. The car shot back to the corner and he booked it up the stairs to the building. John wanted his help; John wanted his help; THE JOHN CONSTANTINE wanted his help! Oh, boy, he didn't even care if he was stuck holding John's cigaretts at this point, John needed his help!

He almost ran into a wall on the top floor. He slowed down enough to whip through the crowd of worried relatives and get into the apartment. John was guiding a four foot mirror with a thick frame into a bedroom. He caught sight of the Apprentice and waved him over. "Stand here," he ordered.

The four men holding the massive mirror brought it up over the bed. Chas was shocked to see an eleven year old girl bound to the frame, twiting and convulsing on the sheets. John was busy tearing a cord out of the wall and tying it to tie it onto the mirror's frame. Father Hennesey was downing a flask at fast as he could, muttering fervently. He cast a glance at John, kicking his mind into Theory Mode.

Before he could do any real processing, John put him in front of the bed, placing the cord in his hands. He instructed the men holding the mirror not to open their eyes under ANY circumstances, then turned to the boy.

"Chas, when I say, I need you to pull on this as hard as you can, okay? Use the bed if you have to."

Chas nodded and wrapped his hands around the cord.

"Don't look," John advised. "You might be able to See without going insane, but we aren't take that chance right now." He took a step towards the bed. A cough racked his frame, but it was short-lived. Chas felt his nails bite into his palm. John shouldn't be working in this condition, but then again, the man had little to no regard for his own life. Chas admired that. Still, he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

In the corner, Father Hennesey was twitching and drinking. He might have been praying, but raving was more likely.

Constantine stepped onto the bed, crouching over the possessed child. She leered at him and hissed something in Hell Speak. Chas didn't catch it, but it made his ears burn. He shook his head. 'Focus, Chas!' He continued to watch in a mix of emotions.

Constantine muttered something to the effect of 'screw you, too,' and closed the girl's black eyes. She wrenched her body upward, thrashing. John ignored it and began chanting. His voice was gruff and strained from the force he was putting into the words and the vicious attacks from the frail-looking body under his. Everything went well for a moment, until one of the men holding the mirror's edge opened his eyes. The man fell back screaming, batting at invisible assailaints around his head. His hair turned white instantly and kept going after that.

Chas bit back a curse and lunged for the falling corner. John already had a hand on it, but it gave the demon enough time to wrap its hand around his throat. He choked on the incantation. Chas wrenched the mirror upright again, his hands over John's. He looked down at the exorcist, who met him with as steady a glare as he could manage, before nodding and resuming his struggle with the possessed girl. Chas looked up a man standing beside Hennesey and yelled him over. He motioned with his head to the cord he had had to drop to save the mirror and repeated John's instructions in Spanish while John forced his hand back over the child's eyes and began forcing the incantation out again. The man nodded and grabbed the rope, his shoulder's tense.

"Smile pretty, you vain prick," Constantine hissed, removing his hands from the child's face.

The demon girl fell back heavily, twisting in agony again. The soldier demon's reflection suddenly materialized in the mirror. Chas resisted the urge to drop the metal in his hands and run. It was hideous and disturbing. It had no head from the nose up, only a sunken in cavity, and it was thinner than bone. It smacked at the mirror surface, making it shudder. Then it made contact with the child's eyes, who looked up. They sighed, tilting their heads simultaneously, like it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.

John glared up at it in disgust. His lifted a single finer with a sneer. "This one's for the Boss."

The demon seemed to cue into what John was doing and began smacking at the mirror. Chas was struggling to hold on now.

"PULL!"

The mirror jerked towards the window, but the frames caught. John forced the man pulling out of the way and shoved his feet into the frame, pushing back as hard as he could. The mirror didn't budge. An arm broke through the mirror, clawing. Chas swore loudly again. He pushed himself onto the bed and forcing the mirror up on an angle. John pulled on the cord again, this time with Chas pushing on the mirror.

It squeezed through the window and went flying. Chas watched in awe from the bed as it went soaring into the street and shattered. A gasp behind him made him jump down. The girl woke up crying and confused. The family crowded around, leaving Chas and John in their own world. John was breathing hard, hands on his knees. Chas came over to him, just barely in a better state and held out a hand. The elder man looked up, and eventually took the hand. He straightened up and put on his usual stoic face. He nodded to Chas and left the room, pausing reluctantly to take his cigarette from a dresser.

Chas smiled brightly. That was plenty confirmation from Constantine and it was making him cheer inside like a kid in a candy factory... but he would never admitt that. He chased after John, pulling his hat back on as it flew off behind him. "JOHN, WAIT UP!"

The man in the black coat ahead simply adjusted his collar sharply and turned a corner.

Chas rolled his eyes. Same old Constantine...

John had a fresh cigarette between his lips by the time Chas got outside. He paused in the doorway and watched the older man. John had that dark expression on his face again, the one that said he was pissed of at the world. Chas saw it all the time, especially after an annoying exorcism or a completely avoidable incident of the like. It was better than the expression John wore after he spoke with Gabriel. That face scared Chas... the one that said that he was scared, too... scared of failing, scared of dying, scared of going back to Hell.

Chas sighed. That was one reason he wanted to help John so badly. Maybe if he could do more, there would be one or two demons less waiting to tear John to shreds. Another thing the twenty-year-old would never say, he was just as scared for John as John was for himself. That was one of the reasons he was so happy right now. He could finally help. Either way, today had been good. He ran his eyes over his mentor again. He was a lot stronger than he looked, Chas decided, and that dark humor of his gave him a kind of disturbing charm. You know, like the moth to the flame.

John looked up from his cigarette and gave the taxi driver a glare. He had noticed the staring. Chas ducked under his hat, went around the front of the cab and got in. He saw Constantine shake his head outside the vehicule before getting into the backseat. Chas felt himself go a few shades of red, so he busied himself with the ignition. He was such a kid. He really had to stop idolizing the man in the back, but that got harder every day.

The drive back to John's apartment was quiet, but it didn't make Chas as nervous as it had in the past. He didn't bother with the radio. John would just complain. They passed Midnite's, the usual group of half-breeds and humans outside, including Ellie. She gave the cab a seductive stare as it passed, but John gave no indication that he had seen her. Chas gave him a questioning look in the rear view mirror, but set his eyes back on the road before the man could notice.

They pulled up in front of the bowling alley a few minutes later. John crushed his smoke on the ground as he got out, and immediately lit up another. Chas grabbed the bags from the back and started towards the door. He expected John to be giving orders of some sort by now. He turned around to see where his boss had gotten to. John was slinking after him, rubbing his collar. Chas went to say something, anything. Before he could think of something, a heaving cough cut off John's air stream. At first, Chas didn't worry. John coughed a lot. He was a chain smoker, what would you expect?

Then, it didn't let up. Chas frowned that was not good. He dropped the bags and went back to the exorcist's side. He was barely two steps away when John's knees gave out, the hacking getting worse. That made Chas panic for a moment. He caught the man around the ribs and held him as upright as he could. He muttered something under his breath about the man killing himself with his smoking.

Constantine made no comment, but the younger man knew he'd be in deep trouble later. Rather than worry about that, he tugged John's arm over his head and tightening his grip on the shaking body. "C'mon, John. Let's get upstairs."

He grabbed the bags with one hand and the pair of them struggled into the building. Beeman waved from the back door as the walked by. Chas gave him a nod and continued to the elevator. The doors opened instantly, thankfully. Once inside, John collapsed onto the floor. He was barely breathing in between barking coughs, blood spewing into the cloth pressed to his mouth. Chas hit the up button and knelt beside the man. He wasn't sure why he was so terribly concerned all of the sudden. John had probably had worse attacks from his illness than this, but for some reason, this one was getting to him.

It took close to ten minutes, but they finally made it up to the apartment. It always depressed Chas to see the empty three rooms John called a home, but today there were other things on his mind. John had stopped coughing a matter of seconds ago, but his breathing was still shaky. Shaky was a mild term. The man's breathing was basically non existent. He rooted through the bathroom cupboard until he found John's stash of cough syrup.

He came back to the table, where John was leaned heavily against the wooden surface. He held out the bottle, knowing it was a bit overdo. 'Better than nothing.'

Seconds ticked by in silence, John's harsh breath measuring the time. He met the boy's gaze for a moment, then took the bottle hesitantly. He downed a good half of it and passed it back to the Apprentice without a word. Chas smiled weakly. Typical Constantine.

When he turned around, John had a bottle and glass on the table. Chas resisted the urge to take it away. No need to make John Constantine angry, in any physical condition. Instead he pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. He watched John pour some of the amber liquid into a glass, but not bother touching it, again, typical Constantine. Chas watched the man fish around in his pockets for something, pulling out a heavy lighter and some lint. He grinned and tugged the missing death sticks from his own coat pocket.

John gave him one of those looks hateful he reserved for Lucifer and held out his hand. Apparently, he was too tired to be a bitch and steal them back. Chas removed one and passed it to his mentor. He had to keep the old man breathing somehow, even if he would most likely get killed for stealing the cigarettes and cutting down on John's nicotine supply. John's eyebrows creased dangerously, but he snatched his prize from Chas' hand without a word.

Chas slipped the pack back into his pocket and leaned back in his chair. He didn't know why he hadn't just chucked the bloody things, but for some reason, John looked calmer, a little less stressed when he was cradling a cigarette in his fingers. He wondered how the man had avoided getting cancer to this point. No doubt, it wouldn't be long until he contracted the thought made Chas shudder. Much as they argued and growled, Chas did not want to see John die anytime soon. He swivled around on his stool to stare out the window, shrinking away from the mental image of the exorcist in the local Morgue. The late sun splashed through the open blinds, making the dusty rooms look even older and abandoned.

He heard John gulp his drink down and slam the glass onto the table viciously. It made the kid supress another shake. Maybe the exorcist was really worse than he had thought. As if the thought triggered a switch, John began to cough again. Chas spun around sharply. It was just a light cough, but it made Chas' blood freeze over. How much time did Constantine have left?

He watched John shake his head violently. The man muttered a curse under his breath and put the cigarette back up to his lips. Chas scowled.

"Those things are gonna kill you, John, can you not go five minutes without one?"

"No." John's tone was bitter and flat.

"You're gonna die, John," Chas argued.

"Everyone does, kid."

"Yeah? Well, I thought you were trying to get back into Heaven, John! How is sucking poison day in day out gonna help you with that? Think God'll crack under the pressure of time?"

The sarcasm was a bad idea, and he had no idea where this was coming from, but Chas was scared suddenly. Scared, and pissed off.

John flicked the already spent stick across the room at the garbage can. He pulled out his lighter, then gave Chas another death glare. No way he was going to beg his 'Apprentice' for HIS cigs, no. Instead, Chas crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why are you doing this, John? Why are you so bent on killing yourself again?"

John snorted. "Ever been to Hell, kid?"

Chas was startled and suddenly a little freaked out. "No."

"Then you wouldn't get it..."

He made to steal the pack back from Chas, but the kid grabbed his wrist and held it in place. "Try me, John. I've gotten lots of things you didn't expect before."

"Not this time, kid."

"John, I am not asking."

Very big mistake, threatening the exorcsit. Again, John did nothing to fight back. He jerked his wrist out of Chas' grip and leaned back into his chair. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was too exhausted to bother being cocky today, another thing that had Chas on edge.

"When you go to Hell," John sounded tired now, "everything is made of fire, even the air. It hurts to breathe. It hurts worse to hold your breath. It's like the only things in existence are ash and flame and rotting flesh. And then, there's them, the foul creatures working for him, torturing and stealing just for kicks."

He opened his eyes again, trying to bolt out the vivid memories.

"And when you come back... Everything seems so... dead. There's no thrill in anything, no joy. Light seems bitter and thin, like dry wall. The world behind the world calls you, screaming your name whenever you look away. It's like Hell comes with you when you come back. There's no peace, no being alone, and every where you look, you see the evil in the world. The half-breeds laugh when you walk by, knowing they'll get their chance with you again soon. Even the mundane look down on you."

He laughed bitterly. He held up his lighter, turning it in the light, then extracted a fresh pack of cigarettes from a pocket Chas hadn't seen.

"That's when I discovered these... I figured Hell wasn't as bad as Hell on Earth, but I was too scared to die again." He clicked his lighter open and lit the cigarette. "I would have done anything to find it again, just so they'd stop calling me. I met this guy not to far from here about a month after I came back the first time. He said he knew what I was going through and a place I could go to make the voices stop."

"Where?" Always curious, Chas, terrific.

"Midnite's. The guy got me in and showed me the ropes. The second we walked in, I saw that everyone in the room was either dead or dying.. except for the angels. Every eye in the place was on me and I saw them. I saw them all for what they truly were, including my 'guide.' I think I freaked when I saw all those demons. I could recognize maybe six of them from my two mintues in Hell, including him. Then he pointed something out. All the voices were gone. I couldn't hear them in my head anymore."

John smirked at the irony. "Balthazar gave me my first taste of Heaven, - but it didn't keep the voices away for long. The minute I left, I heard the whispers of the ghosts following me. So, I turned around and went back in."

"Eventually, I found that I couldn't handle being at Midnite's all the time. It was too painful, too full of memories, even if it took away my hallucinations for a while. I got a grasp of how to control my Sight and tried to ignore the supernatural between trips to Midnite's. 'Course, that only helped for so long. Same goes for this thing I suppose," he said, gesturing with the smoke. "It was a quick fix to get out of Hell... or back in... 'Pends how you look at it. Either way, it only works for so long." He glared accusingly at the burning roll of chemicals and God knows what else, like his problems were its fault. Chas supposed it was.

"If it doesn't work... why do you keep at it?"

"I never said it doesn't work, kid. I just said that it doesn't last long."

"Isn't there another way?"

"You don't think I've looked?"

"Not hard enough if that's your solution." Just stop talking now, Chas. Stop. Talking.

Oddly enough, John smirked again, somewhat amused. "Come here, kid," he instructed, his tone a little lighter now.

Chas sat still for a moment before deciding it was better not to test the man and took the few steps to John's side. He leaned against the table and crossed his arms, waiting. John took a long drag from his cigarette. He had his eyes closed, like he was trying to clear his head. Chas bit his lip impatiently. What was Constantine playing at all of the sudden?

John shot to his feet abruptly and stared Chas straight in the eyes. "You don't want to be a part of this, Chas," he said sternly. "People involved with me get killed. I have enough blood on my hands without your's."

Chas supressed the strange feelings created by the serious warning and laughed. "Christ, John, I'm your driver, not your girlfriend."

John raised his eyebrows. "Last chance, kid. Get out."

Now, Chas was very surprised. John's voice was quiet and concerned. What was the deal? He thought for a moment. Constantine treated him like crap, a slave. If he stayed now, this would be all he'd ever know. He would never have anyone but John, and even then, he would probably be killed soon enough. Was that what he wanted?

A part of his mind flashed to his picture perfect life he had dreamed of. A wife, a son and some girls, a nice house... Then he thought about what he had now, a crappy taxi that broke down lots, no money in the bank, and a sick boss with a fetish for smoke. Was Constantine worth giving up his only chance at a happy life - worth dying for? The only answer he could think of was yes. John Constantine was his friend and he needed Chas to take care of him, much as the older man would never admit it. Even if he left right now, the things he had seen had wrecked any hope he had ever really had. The demons would stay with him, and only John would understand that. No, he wasn't going anywhere.

His mind made up, he raised his gaze so it was level with Constantine's. He shook his head. "I'm staying," he announced.

"People I get involved with die, Chas," he tried again, weaker this time.

"Then we won't get involved, John," Chas teased. "I'm just your slave."

John opened his mouth to berate the boy for basically signing up for suicide-by-John's-bad-karma, but then he smiled, an honest to God pure smile crossed his face. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Chas'. Chas blinked a couple of times, reading John's expression as he pulled away. There was none of the playful lust or bitterness in John's eyes that he was used to. There was just this warm glow, and the driver knew for once that John appreciated him. John was thanking him for all he had done and all he was condeming himself to. He just didn't know how to phrase it.

Well, he did manage to find the words, "you aren't my slave, Chas. You're a very appreciated apprentice."

Chas felt a wave of joy rush through him. Maybe John wasn't such a bad ass. He grinned at his boss. John was stuck with him now. He took John by the wrist and pulled him closer again. He placed a kiss of his own on John's lips. He felt John grin in understanding and wrap his arms around the 'Apprentice's' waist. Chas was never good with words either.

'This is stupid, Chas.'

'That never stopped you before.'

'And I did what to deserve this?'

'Absolutely nothing, John.'

'... Thanks, kid.'

Chas smiled softly again and eased away from John. He had poured everything he had ever wanted to say into that kiss. Well, almost - there was one thing he had left out, but somehow, he had a feeling John had known that all along. So, why was he letting him stay? He shrugged inwardly. Constantine always had his reasons.

He snatched the brand new pack of smokes John had hidden from him and stuffed it in the same pocket as the others.

"Night, John," he called, making a beeline for the door. Yes, John would be pissed... just not today.

JOHN'S POV

He watched the door slam shut, the kid's laughter ringing through the hall as he ran off. He shook his head and pulled his spare cigarette from his tie. Not even Chas could steal all of his smokes. He was about to light it, but something that damn kid had said earlier about pressuring God and time had stuck with him. He chuckled and left it in the ashtray.

"Love you, too, kid."