***

Finally it comes to this, the moment I've been expecting and dreading since we first met. I'm once again sitting at his sickbed, figuratively speaking. Although the much-more-than-king-sized bed John's laying in belongs to me.

No will to live will save you when you are falling from the 19th floor counting all the protruding structures on your way down… if you don't have a guardian demon. Of course I could have fixed him up and left him in the capable hands of the doctors with firm grip on reality, who would have dreamed up a plausible explanation of his miraculous recovery.

But no… This time I want him to know who saved his life. Even though he will draw wrong conclusions from it.

He awakens slowly, as if he doesn't believe he cheated death again. Or maybe he's afraid to see the burning wasteland of Hell. The moment he understands that he is still alive his face visibly relaxes.

And he tenses right up when his eyes focus on me.

"You!" he's on the offensive from the start, "What are you doing here?"

I pointedly sweep my bedroom with a slow gaze, giving him time to take everything in and to realize that it's not his home or even a hospital.

"Me?" I'm all innocence, "I live here."

He obviously wants to ask what's he doing here than but his pride gets in the way. At least for this exact wording.

"Why the hell have you brought me here?"

A question I'm not going to answer. I shake my head reproachfully.

"Is it really a way to address a person who saved your life?"

A new pause for taking in what was said. The exorcist's fire dies down.

"What happened?"

"You tell me. All I saw was a spectacular ending: 'John Constantine trains for angel' with a noticeable absence of wings. If you don't mind me saying, your dive was impressive but landing was a bit… crumpled."

"Why have you saved me?"

He isn't questioning what have I been doing near the house where exorcism took place. Maybe he haven't thought about it yet or maybe he automatically assumed I've been watching him for my own evil purposes.

"I like you."

My almost charge goes into a bit of a stupor. Taking pity on him I speak on.

"I do not approve of Heaven's rules, and helping you undermines their authority, at least a little. Also, I find you quite entertaining… and we really need someone to curb the population of low level imps in the world of the living."

His lips are a frigidly straight line. I can just see all the reasons trying to line up in his head.

"And that's all?"

"That is all." I nod coolly. "I have no reason to lie, your soul is already ours after all."

I don't want to remind him of this sad circumstance but there isn't a better argument for my sincerity. He winces and looks at the door.

"What are you going to do next?" 'with me' is an unvoiced end of the question.

"Nothing," I shrug. "You are free to go anytime you want. I'll even walk you to the door. And lend you a suit: yours' isn't fit to wear anymore, I'm afraid."

I'm waiting for accusations of ridicule and mockery but this situation is apparently too surreal for standard reactions.

In accordance to my words I enter my walk-in closet and find a dark blue suit with thin gray stripes, a gray shirt and, after a short contemplation, a matching necktie.

"Be my guest." I put the clothes at the foot of the bed and leave my bedroom.

He exits shortly: it appears he wants to leave my presence and get himself out of an awkward situation as soon as possible. I'm a bit wider in shoulders but the suit still looks pretty good on him. Midnight blue is really his color.

But if I were to be fair he doesn't look all that well. Constant stress plus unhealthy way of life plus working irregular hours equals chronic tiredness and ruined health. I mercilessly strangle a desire to simply lock him away and shield him from his mess of a life.

I walk him to the door, open it and gesture for him to leave with exaggerated courtesy.

"Oh, and by the way, when exorcising stay away from the windows. I hear possessed are generally very strong and are prone to flailing."

"I noticed," he mutters darkly. I grin. "But still, why have you done it?"

"I already told you." I shrug.

"You're insane," he scourges up the remnants of his anger.

"It's said that genius and insanity are but two sides of a coin," I intone.

Understanding that he won't be speaking the last word he silently calls the elevator standing demonstratively with his back to me.

I wait till it's doors are almost closed before speaking.

"Hey, John," he turns around, "I'm rooting for you."

***