Author's note:

No, I do not condone smoking in any form. It's bad for you. Don't do it. Even in comic books it works out badly for everyone. Just ask John.

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THREE

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Sam heaved his brother out of the back seat of the car and shuffled him, an arm over his shoulder, to the motel door. "Oh, ah… key," he realised, wondering just how to get the door key from his pocket and into John's hand.

But he heard the door open and then John was standing back. "You must have left it open," he said innocently.

Sam decided not to dwell on it. Instead he got Dean inside and all but dropped him on the bed nearest the entrance. He stood back and swept hair out of his own eyes as the door closed behind him. He turned to see John had followed him in. He was standing at the window, looking out through the grey curtains. "What were you doing in that library?" Sam asked.

The man in the raincoat turned and looked at him. "Books," he shrugged. Sam frowned. John put a hand up. "Alright, fair enough." He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. "How much do you know about that woman tonight?"

"She wasn't a woman," Sam said. "At least, not on the inside. She was a demon. We came to get something from the library - she jumped us."

"So you're up on demons and what they do to people?" John asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh… pretty much," Sam nodded. He folded his arms. "But you just talked to her and she ran. What did you say?"

John stretched his shoulders out, then went to the bed and looked down at Dean. "Told her I'd summoned her boss. See, she's on the outs with him. She's been running for years. And if I happened to let him know where she's hiding out these days, I'd score some much-needed Brownie points. —And she knows that."

"She said you used protection magic. Are you a hunter?"

John pulled something out of his inside raincoat pocket and offered it to Sam, still watching Dean. "Not at all."

Sam took the small white item, finding it to be a business card. "John Constantine," he read. "Exorcist, demonologist and master of the dark arts."

John waved a dismissive hand at him. "Sounds poncy, I know. I've really got to get that changed to something far less up-my-arse," he said. Sam blinked, then shook his head as he let the card drop to his side. John went back to the window and looked out. "I take it you didn't get your book then," he said.

"No," Sam said.

"And you need it for something very important."

"Yeah."

"Why don't we let your partner-in-crime there sleep off his concussion, and you and me go back and get it? Don't know about you mate, but I'd rather I wasn't on my own till this is done." He turned from the curtains and smiled up at Sam.

The altitudinous Winchester considered him for a long moment. "Look… thanks for the save and everything, but… we can take care of it tomorrow morning."

"It won't be there tomorrow morning," John said.

"What?"

John looked at his feet. "We've got about… what, just over an hour before midnight? That's when it disappears again for another hundred years."

"How do you know that?"

"Little bird told me."

Sam's face darkened. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

John pulled the small box of Silk Cut from his inside pocket and lit up a cigarette slowly, enjoying the first drag as if he had all the time in the world. "I was after Valebrand," he said. "She was the demon who knocked you two on your arses tonight."

"Yeah and she's gone, so—"

"She's not gone. She's just out of sight," John said, stuffing the cigarette back in his mouth. "She'll stay out of sight long enough for us to get back into that library."

"So you're here for a book."

"No, I'm here for a dragon."

Sam sniffed, and the way his jaw took on a keen edge advertised to the entire room just how much he was enjoying the conversation. "You want us to go back there and get a book each."

"I want a book. You can get what you want whilst we're there," John said. His hand went back to his cigarette.

Dean grunted something and his eyes opened. His left hand came up and flailed for a second, until Sam went to his side and grabbed his wrist.

"Dean - you're ok, man." He watched his brother force his eyes open and keep them that way. He let go of his arm.

"What the hell happened?" Dean managed.

John wandered round to the foot of the bed. "Alright, then?" He slewed to one side, tilting his head to get a better look at Dean's face. "All compos mentis again?"

Dean squinted at him. "Cas looks blonde."

The man looked a little confused. "My name's John."

"Who are you?"

"Just someone with similar interests." He shoved the cigarette back in his teeth, noting how Dean rubbed at his eyes and tried to take in his surroundings.

"And what are you doin' here?" Dean asked.

"Just in the right place at the right time," John said. "Sam says you were looking for a book. I need something from that library too. Now we're on a bit of a time limit, so you'll have to rest up here while me and Sam go and get—"

"Just - stop," Dean grunted. He pushed himself to sit up. His hand went round the back of his head and he felt at his scalp cautiously. "Right, back it up, the pair of you. What happened to that bitch and how did we get here?"

Sam stood back. "John here… kinda threatened her. She took off and we drove back here."

John sucked on the cigarette before knocking ash toward the carpet. "True story - 'cept he missed out the bit where she sic'd her minions on us and we still got away clean. Now, are we gettin' this book or what?"

"What's the hurry?" Dean asked. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

"The library disappears at midnight," John said.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked.

John smiled. "As lung cancer."

Dean looked him up and down, then turned to Sam. "Do we trust this guy? What does he know about demons?"

"He's an exorcist," Sam said awkwardly.

"And a demonologist," John put in. "So… quite a bit, really."

"And… who are you again?" Dean asked.

"Like I said, my name's John. I'm just—"

"No, who the hell are you?" Dean growled, getting to his feet. "Me and Sam were in that library like ten minutes before a demon jumped us. Then you appear and 'help' my brother, here? Out of nowhere?"

John pushed the cigarette into his lips and put both hands up in surrender. "I swear - I was there for her. She clocked me though - wasn't counting on that."

"Maybe she smelt you coming," Dean said meaningfully.

John pulled the cigarette from his mouth and, without looking, flicked it from his left hand toward the mirror against the wall. It bounced off and went into a paper cup on the table underneath. Sam and Dean blinked in surprise as there was a hiss of a fire, dying in coffee dregs.

"Listen, I'm just a petty dabbler in the dark arts, squire. Things like this just kind of happen around me," he said, bringing their attention back to him.

"He did just scare a demon into running," Sam said quietly. "And he did an exorcism on the fly."

"Yeah? And how do we know this dude ain't a demon?" Dean pressed. He advanced on John, who simply stood his ground, his palms up in surrender. Dean shoved his face down into John's.

But the slighter man didn't so much as flinch. "You're a very angry young man, do you know that?" he smiled. Dean's face hardened. John's smile faded. "Alright, alright. It's been a long night for everyone. The fact remains we've got till midnight to get what we want from that library. After that, it's bye-bye bookshelves until well after we're all worm-food."

Dean eyed him. Then he stood back and turned to Sam. "You believe this guy?"

"Possibly," he said slowly. "And she did say we had to be in and out before midnight."

"Who 'she'?" John asked.

"A friend," Sam said.

"And how does your friend know about this library? The one library that carries all the books so naughty that it only appears for two weeks every century?"

Sam lifted his chin. "What do you want from this library?"

"The same as you," John said. He put his hands in his trouser pockets. "Just a book."

"And why are we all going together again? This ain't Scooby Doo," Dean said.

"Oh but you'd make a smashin' Fred," John grinned. He turned to the door. "Come on, then. And bring Scoob. He's tidy in a fight, your brother." He opened the exit and slipped back out into the night.

Sam and Dean shared a long look. "Seriously?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "He might be useful. We all need to get into that library before it closes for good - and it doesn't look like we'll be able to stop him anyway. May as well go in together."

Dean huffed. Then he rubbed at the back of his head and went for the door. He paused and looked back. "Don't take your eyes off this guy."

Sam wiped both hands down his face. Then he followed.

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ooOoo

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The occupants of the Impala were silent as she rumbled down the road. The moon cast polite shadows over the single man in the rear seat. As he fiddled with his Zippo lighter and stared out of the window, his breath misted up the glass in waves of impatient, unfed addiction. He brought his attention back to the pane and a half-smile pulled at the side of his mouth. He put an index finger up and pressed it to the obfuscated window. It left a large print in the middle and he smiled proper, flicking a delicate finger up a few times to leave a slight bump on one side, and then two tapering lines going upward. He let his hand drop and admired his handiwork, studying the V sign sitting atop the miniature fist-like shape in the middle.

"So John," Dean said from the driver's seat.

John looked up swiftly. "Still think you shouldn't be driving."

"How long you been doing this?" Dean asked.

"Oooh, a while."

"How long is a while?" Dean pressed.

John flicked the lighter open and shut repeatedly as something rolled around the inside of his head. "Funny thing about time," he mused. "We have this agreement; I ignore it, and it ignores me."

"That's great," Dean said, sarcasm readily apparent.

"What do I call you?" John asked suddenly. "'Sam's brother' is going to get really irritating."

"Dean."

"Right you are."

Dean sniffed to himself. The car was quiet for a long moment. "So you've dealt with demons before?"

"Plenty of them," John said. His face lost its joviality and he looked back out of the window.

Sam turned in the seat. "Hey, uhm… when you were talking to her… you told her you'd summoned her king. Who were you talking about?"

"Her king?" John prompted, surprised. He continued to flick the Zippo open and closed. "He's gone by a few names in the past. Mostly these days he gets called Crowley. I think he nicked that from a friend of mine, but he'll never admit to it."

Sam blinked. "You were going to summon Crowley? Crowley?"

"You've met him, then," John smiled. "Bit of a smug tosser, but at least he sticks to his word."

"But Crowley," Sam argued. Dean put a hand out and nudged Sam's arm. Sam looked at him sharply. Then his eyes went back to John's. "It's just… we've had dealings."

"Riiiiight," John drawled curiously. He looked down at the lighter as he flicked it open and closed, open and closed.

"Could you be any more annoying?" Dean snapped.

John paused his thumb. "Sorry. It's that or smoke something. Gettin' a bit desperate, here."

"We're nearly there," Sam said. He turned back round as Dean sped up slightly.

Presently they came down a quiet street that turned through a few more small-town corners before a large car park arrived on the left. Dean checked the traffic - of which there was none - and crossed the road and into the lot. He pulled up by the front door to the library and squeaked the door open. Sam got out as John appeared from the back. He already had a cigarette in his hand as he pushed the door shut.

He lit up his Silk Cut and then nodded to Dean. "So which book are you looking for?"

"Why? Will you know where it is?"

John put his free hand in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Dean, who opened it gingerly.

"It's blank," he said, turning it round for Sam to see under the car park lights.

John tutted. "Whoops." He took it back and put the cigarette in his mouth. He folded the paper in half again, pressed his fingers and thumbs into it, and muttered something round the Silk Cut. He sniffed and opened it up. He didn't even check it before he handed it back to Dean.

He stared down at the paper - now replete with black lines and arrows, notes and directions. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," John shrugged. "It was a Secret."

"A secret what?" Dean asked.

John rolled his eyes in disappointment and went straight up to the front doors. Finding them still unlocked, he heaved a single door open and slipped inside.

The Winchesters exchanged a glance that was all about wariness and trepidation. Sam took the map from his brother and went for the doors. Dean looked around, realised the road beyond was as empty as the car park, and went inside.

He pulled the door shut behind him quietly and took in the mess in the library. Sam was off to the left, running his hands down the shelves and reading slowly. John was out of sight, somewhere to his right, if the sounds were anything to go by.

Eventually Sam paused and stooped to read something more carefully. "Dean!" he called. He pulled a slim book from the shelf, blowing dust from it before shaking it off.

Dean appeared next to him. "You got it?"

"Yeah. It was right where the map said it would be," Sam marvelled. "You know, maybe John isn't as bad as all that."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"You're just pissed because he might be as good as us," Sam argued.

"Sam, we don't know a thing about him."

"We know he's something like a hunter. He shouted an exorcism from the wing of the Impala - that worked - and he can hold his magic."

"Yeah - magic. You sure this guy ain't just a demon-powered witch?"

"I don't think it's that kind of magic," Sam said. Dean turned less angry and more thoughtful. "I'm just saying," Sam went on, "maybe we should cut him some slack."

"And I'm just saying - maybe he's just stringing us along to get what he wants. And can we really trust him not to draw attention to us in this town?"

"He said he was after a book. And he's been pretty discreet so far."

There was a bang and a crash, followed by an off-colour curse that made both men go to the end of the bookshelf to peer around the edge. They found John Constantine a few bookshelves across the room, sprawled on his back in a pile of books with a few more open and lying on his lazy tie. He put a hand up. "S'alright," he said cheerfully. "Turns out that book wasn't the top of the pile after all." A book slipped from the top half empty shelf behind him and bounced off his head. "Bastard," he coughed, fighting to get up.

Dean looked at Sam - just looked. Sam, for his part, pushed the book at Dean. He took it and secreted it inside his jacket pocket as Sam went past him and put a palm out. John grabbed it and between them they hauled him back to his feet.

"Much obliged," John said, twisting his raincoat straight and running a hand through his hair. He turned and picked a book out of the pile, checking what was written on the spine before brandishing it at Sam. "Got mine. You?"

"Ah - yeah," Sam said. "So let's get out of here before a demon shows up."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," John smiled, clapping a hand to his arm before walking past him and disappearing out through the front doors.

Sam looked over at Dean and gestured with his head. Dean looked around the library before walking out. He pulled both doors shut firmly and went to the Impala. John was lighting up a fresh Silk Cut even as Sam stopped by the passenger door.

"You got what you wanted, and we got what we wanted. No demons about, so… thanks," Dean said. "Have a nice life."

John sniffed, pulling the cigarette from his lips to appraise the red end. "You know there's a bar just down the block, right? Not a bad place, apparently. Beer, burgers, birds."

Dean looked over the roof to his brother.

Sam leant an arm on the car. "I'll need some time to study this book, make sure it does what we want it to."

Dean looked back at John, who flashed him a wide grin. "I'm buyin'. I'll just need a moment and a phone," John said.

"Selling your book?" Dean asked.

"What, this?" John asked, waving a red book up briefly. "Not on your life."

Dean looked at Sam. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, we're not. Sam, you can study that thing on the eight hour drive back to Kansas." He looked at John. "We're leaving, and you're going wherever it is you're going."

"Sure, mate?" John said slyly.

"Sure."

"Ok then," John shrugged. "I'm not going to argue with you. But I'm just sayin' - you can't do much this late at night. You should read it in the morning, Sam, come at it fresh," he said innocently.

"Uhm… maybe," Sam havered, a slight look of confusion on his face.

John eyes never left Sam's. "Yeah, I mean… Trying to work on it after a day like this? I'd need a moment to collect myself, get squared away, you know, before I started trying to translate some ancient book. It's not easy getting the translations right. And they do say the devil's in the details."

Sam frowned. "You have a point."

"No, he doesn't," Dean said, surprised. "Time limit, Sam, remember?"

"Whatever you've got that's so important in Kansas isn't going anywhere," John said amiably. "Right? I mean, I'm guessing you drove here. If it'd been that important you could have flown."

"Yeah," Sam said faintly.

Dean looked at Sam, then back at John. "Stop talking," he said, but he sounded undecided.

"Ok," John shrugged. "But, you know, that bar's not that far away, and I'm buying. Sam needs time to decipher that book, after all. Why not sit and have a beer until he's got a handle on it, at least? How do you even know it's all in there, whatever you need?"

Dean frowned. "But… there are women. We need to find them."

"Oh mate. Do you really think there are no women at the pub?" John grinned.

Dean appeared torn between opening the car door and John's confident smile. "Well… Just until Sam's had a chance to read the damn thing. I suppose one beer wouldn't hurt." He opened his driver's door and got in.

John heard the car start up as he checked his watch. He made the most of one final drag on his cigarette and then dropped the butt, squishing it dead with his shoe. Opening up the rear door and climbing in, he heard the brothers discussing time limits.

"Just a few hours, so I can read it over," Sam was saying quietly.

Dean grunted in agreement. "But we take off early tomorrow."

"Of course," Sam said.

John waited until they were busy looking out of the front window.

Then he grinned.

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Thank for your traffic, people, no matter the reason or the result. It is much appreciated.