Okay, this is a really long chapter, but I couldn't figure out where to cut it off. Also, I was editing it while watching an episode of Constantine, so there may be a few mistakes in the chapter. If you see anything that needs to be changed, let me know, and I'll fix it.

"Okay wait, explain again what you saw?" Chas requested as Zed got into his cab. She had booked them the next available flight to Nebraska, which was leaving from the airport in a little less than two hours. The psychic took in a breath and began as Chas pulled back onto the street..

"Earlier today, I was having a dream, a vision, of John. He was bloody, and he wasn't moving. When I told him about it, he said that everything was going to be fine, but that he had to go on a job. When I offered to come with him, he said no, it was something he had to do alone."

"An old childhood friend of his got in contact with me and said he needed help getting rid of a ghost in his house," Chas explained.

"Was this old friend actually old, with white hair?"

Chas looked over at the young woman for a second before looking back at the road. "No," he replied.

"Well, when I picked up one of John's empty cigarette boxes, I had another vision, and this time I saw John tied up in a chair. There was another man in the room, but he was old, and had white hair. The way he looked at John, Chas. It scared me; it was pure hatred in his eyes."

"When you say old, how old are you talkin'?"

"I dunno, old enough to have white hair?" Zed replied, trying to curb her frustration. "Probably in his sixties at least," she added after a moment of thought. Chas's forehead furrowed in confusion, and Zed felt the cab accelerate slightly.

"Was John bloody in your latest vision?"

"No." Zed thought about it for a moment, then amended, "He had a cut on his forehead, and something cut on his neck, but it wasn't anywhere near the damage I saw in the first vision."

"John, you stupid, stupid idiot," Chas growled. "Why didn't you let one of us come?"

"Do you know the man who's got John?" Zed asked. By the look on her friend's face, she already knew the answer to that question was yes.

"If my guess about your vision is right, I think we're dealing with John's father."

"Wait, his father? Why would he be tying John up?"

"John and his father have always had a bad relationship; Mary Anne Constantine, John's mother, died giving birth to John, and his father blamed him for it. John left home as soon as he could, and that's when he met Annie and got introduced to all this."

"So why is John's father kidnapping him? And how did he manage to get beat John in what looks like a fight? He didn't look that strong."

Chas's frown deepened. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I know where we can start."

"You do?"

"Frankie, the guy who contacted John for the job in the first place. There's no way he's not involved in this some way, and he's gonna help us get to the bottom of this. Don't worry, Zed. John's not dying any time soon if we've got anything to say about it."

Zed didn't respond. She wished she had the confidence that Chas had, but the image of John from her first vision, on the floor, covered in blood and not moving was burned in her mind, and she silently willed their car to go faster.

0-0-0

John lifted his head slowly, trying to combat the pounding in his skull. He couldn't be sure, but he almost felt like someone was watching him; no one was in front of him though, except his father, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away. When John tried to move his hands, he found that they were cuffed together, though he wasn't tied down to the kitchen chair he was currently sitting on.

"So," John drawled, looking up at his father and ignoring the sharp pain in his head that had more than likely come from being smashed against a wall. "Who are you then?"

Thomas Constantine looked at his son with an incredulous look on his face. "That thing didn't hit you hard enough to make you forget your old man," he stated.

"No, you're right, but I can't feel that cold, chilly presence anymore, and since the creature seemed so intent on destroying me, the fact that I'm not dead yet does pose the interesting question of why he would take off before the job is done."

Thomas smirked. "You're a smart one, I'll give you that," he admitted, standing up and walking around.

"It wasn't that smart, mate. You just seem fairly dull. Besides, I like to think I've picked up a few things over the years," John said with an arrogant tilt of his head. "Now, you have three seconds to tell me who you are and what you want before I come over there and make you tell me. Trust me when I tell you it'll be better for you if you take option number one."

Thomas Constantine laughed, but it wasn't his father's laugh. John also figured that whoever was inside his father's body wasn't going to volunteer the information willingly, so he stood up and began stomping towards his father, muttering an incantation under his breath, a spell that would banish the entity from his father's body but give it a corporeal form so he could beat the information out of whoever it was. However, before he'd even muttered half of the spell, he felt like his tongue was suddenly glued to the back of his throat, and John started gagging. The sudden lack of air was so shocking that John actually had to find his way back to the chair he'd woken up in to sit back down as he clutched at his throat. His fit lasted until he mentally cast away the thought of completing his spell, and when he finally did that, his tongue lowered and his breathing returned to normal. The entity inhabiting Thomas' body laughed again, and John glared at the being.

"Clever," he said. "The glyph for that particular spell goes on the neck, so I wouldn't have noticed it until I tried casting a spell." John suddenly remembered the pain on his neck right before he passed out, and he silently berated himself. He should have picked up on that sooner.

The thing inside Thomas looked delighted with itself, and John rolled his eyes.

"Tell me. Your promised my dad you could bring my mum back if I was exchanged for her? A life for a life? Was that an empty promise, or are you working with the Brujeria?"

Thomas' face looked confused. "The who?" He seemed genuinely confused, and John figured that meant that it really had just been an empty promise.

"Never mind that. My guess is, being the sorry drunkard he is, dear old dad probably agreed to your terms without giving any sort of thought to letting you inhabit his body."

"This isn't exactly what Thomas had in mind, and he was a little less than willing to cooperate when he realized I would need to possess his body, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"Well, I hate to know that someone hates me as much as you do, but have absolutely no idea who they are. Why don't you tell me, and then you can get right on back to killing me."

"Oh John, I'm not going to kill you. Not immediately, anyway. My entire family and I are dead because of you. No, I want you to suffer; suffer like we did. No matter how much you plead and beg with me to kill you, the end isn't going to come until you know true agony."

"I don't think you really know me at all then, mate. First off, I'm not one to beg. Second, I've been living with true agony for longer than most people do in their entire lives."

"Be that as it may, I'm going to take my time and enjoy this as long as I can."

"Well, it's just my lucky day, isn't it?" John quipped drily.

The being didn't respond to John's wit. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Wait," John said as the man started walking forward. "You've got me at a clear disadvantage; you know me, but I still don't know who you are."

"You really don't remember me?" Thomas asked, clearly angry that he didn't seem to have made an impression on the exorcist. He walked forward until he was standing right in front of John, then grabbed his chin.

John grimaced as it felt like his chin was being crushed. "Why don't you give me a hint?" he grunted out. Thomas glared at Constantine before jerking John's head to the side, throwing the blond out of the chair. John crashed into the wall, then onto the floor.

"I was going to contact you myself and let you know that I had your father, but after talking to him, I realized that you two actually hate each other. What a coincidence; I can relate. Anway, that's when I posed the idea to trick you into coming here, and as we can see, that worked like a charm."

"I've got a couple other charms that work really well, too, if you'll let me show them to you," John offered sarcastically, pushing himself into an upright position. "They do a great job at sending things back to where they come from."

"You're not going anywhere Constantine, and neither am I." Suddenly, Thomas' hands had reached up and made a clawing motion through the air, and John felt three simultaneous sharp, distinct points of pain on his chest. The pain moved down his chest with Thomas' hand motions, leaving John's shirt and chest torn and bloody. Constantine bit back his sharp shout of pain that wanted to escape, not willing to give whoever was attacking him the satisfaction of hearing his victim's pain.

Upon closer inspection, John found that while the wounds were definitely meant to hurt, they weren't deep enough to actually kill him unless they were left unattended long enough. Be that as it may, John's white shirt was quickly becoming more and more red with every passing moment. However, the wounds on his chest hadn't even begun to fully bleed before a gash was torn into John's thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery. John hissed in pain, but once again, to his tormentor's growing frustration, he didn't cry out.

The wound on John's leg had just been opened, but then he felt something else rip into his stomach. This wound was slightly deeper than the other two, and as such, it began to bleed more profusely than the others.

Through a hazy mind, John couldn't help but think that the wounds seemed oddly specific, and for some reason, they felt familiar. His captor finished with his stomach, and the occultist examined the three wounds. His chest, leg, stomach...Suddenly, something else the entity had said came back to John, about how he could relate about having a difficult relationship with his father, and John knew exactly who the ghost (because he now knew it was a ghost) was.

"Listen," John panted, pressing his still-bound hands against his stomach, trying to slow the flow of blood. "I know who you are, and I know why you're doing this. Jack, right? Jack Grader?" Constantine took the gaping mouth and the ghost's slightly stunned silence as confirmation. "Listen, Jack. I tried to get there, tried to save you and your family, but-"

"Save it," the boy snapped. "I came to you looking for help, and you said you could help me."

Angry at the blond, the boy turned around and took his eyes off John for a moment. As soon as the boy turned away, John immediately started inching his way towards the table, where his bag was still where he'd set it when he'd walked into the house.

"I know I did, and I know I messed up," John said, hoping that the boy didn't turn and catch him. "I wasn't as prepared as I should have been; I got there too late, and your family suffered the consequences for it. But you shouldn't be here," John added. "You should have moved onto the next life. It isn't right for you to be sticking around like this."

Jack had look slightly stunned when John confirmed that he knew who Jack was, but as soon as the occultist mentioned moving on, something inside the boy snapped. He turned back to John and the blond was forced to freeze in his progress.

"Move on?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. "I can't move on. Knowing that you were still alive has kept me here for the past two years. Once you're dead, I can move on. But only when you're dead."

"Sounds like a personal problem, mate," John quipped, even though he knew it was stupid to egg on the spirit that was currently holding him captive. He couldn't help it though; it was in his nature.

For a moment, John thought the spirit of Jack Grader was going to slice him to ribbons right there, but instead, the ghost looked down, and Thomas Constantine's face took on a pouty look that only a teenager could pull off. Thomas' face seems to pull it off pretty well though, John thought drily to himself.

"You said...you said you would help me," Jack repeated, softer this time.

"I know, and I tried."

John's biggest regret would always be Astra and what happened to her, but that didn't mean that when he wasn't successful, it didn't haunt him, especially when it involved younger people like this kid's family had. However, while John did feel awful about what had happened to this boy and his family, it didn't mean that he wanted to be killed for it. He still had too much work to do. While the boy was pouting, John was itching to reach up and break the glyph on his neck so he could actually recite the incantation successfully, but the glyph was cut into his skin. John knew that if he tried to break the symbol up with anything but a blade, it would take too long; the boy would notice, and John would lose all semblance of the element of surprise.

Choosing to try for his bag again, John managed to move a few inches closer to the table while Jack wasn't paying attention, and now the bag was only a few feet away. Just keep looking away, John willed the boy, needing to reach up and grab the bag.

John's hopes that the boy was going to remain still long enough for him to get to his bag were dashed as the teenager turned looked at him again, his expression morphing into one of anger and hate. The blond had a hard time not wincing; while he was a grown man capable of taking care of himself, and he knew it wasn't actually his father making that face, the sight of Thomas Constantine's angry face still brought back bad memories for John. Memories of the man coming home drunk, even angrier than when he'd left for the pub, and his consequent beatings of his children, mainly focusing on John, whom he always seemed to favor picking on.

"You said you were going to help me." Jack repeated again. His words were still soft, but they'd lost the pleading tone and taken on a harsher edge. "I told you what was happening, and you said you could help. You said that plant would stop me, and that I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else!"

John flashed back to two years ago, when a scared teenage boy had come to him, claiming to be a monster.

0-0-0

Someone pounded on the door, and John rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for company, so he didn't bother getting up. However, that didn't seem to stop the knocker, because less than thirty seconds later, another knock sounded, and before John had even had the chance to yell 'Go away!' at whoever was outside, the door was opened. John stood up, turning to face his intruder in anger and prepared with all sorts of spells to neutralize whatever threat it was, but he stopped short when he came face-to-face with a sopping wet teenage boy.

"What are you doing here?" John asked in a surly tone, not ready to put away his defensive spells yet if it meant getting rid of his company.

"You've got to help me," the boy begged. "Please, will you help me? Everyone says you're the person to come to if you've got trouble, and I need help!"

John observed the bruises on the boy's arms and wrists. "Look, lad, I dunno what sorta trouble you've gotten yourself into, but I think this would be a case for the actual authorities," John replied, turning back to his drink. It wasn't that he didn't care; it was that if he cared about every bruised and bloody person that came in, he'd never be able to do his actual work. As much as he felt for him, John felt like the boy needed to go report whoever was hurting him to the police.

"The police can't do anything for me!" the young man replied frantically. "Please, you've got to help me before I can hurt anyone!"

That piqued John's interest slightly, since to him it seemed like the boy was the one being hurt. "What do you mean, before you can hurt anyone?"

"I...I'm a monster," the boy confessed. John couldn't tell if the water running down the boy's face were tears, or if it was just water from the boy's hair dripping down on his face. Once again, John looked pointedly at the boy's bruised wrists and arms.

"A monster, eh? What sorta monster?" John didn't expect much; maybe the kid got really violent when he was on drugs, and he got into a fight with another junkie; maybe that's where the bruises came from. If that was the case, it was definitely a case for the cops. John thought about it again though, and wondered how and why the child had come to an occultist detective. The blond began to wonder if the boy had been possessed by a demon and was hurting people, and if that was the case, it was John who would definitely need to get involved. However, the boy's answer was not something that Constantine was expecting.

"I think I'm...I think I'm a werewolf."

John almost laughed. Almost. He studied the teenager, searching for any of the obvious signs of lycanthropy. The child's eyes were regular, human shaped eyes, and he couldn't see any sort of bite mark, though he knew that was easy enough to cover up with makeup or even clothes, depending on the location of the bite.

"What makes you think that, mate?" John wasn't casting aside all doubt yet, but he definitely wanted to hear what the young man had to say.

"It started a few months ago. I went to bed one night, but when I woke up the next morning, I was in the woods; I had no idea how I even got out of the house. I wondered if I'd snuck out of the house and just gotten plastered with my friends, but they all said we didn't go out that night. Thankfully I was able to sneak back inside before any of my family woke up, but at breakfast, everyone was saying...they said that they heard growls and saw a huge shadow walking by the house. I...it didn't attack or anything, but I started wondering what really had happened.

Nothing happened again for another month-ish, but then it happened again. One night I went to bed and woke up the next morning in the middle of the yard. My family said that the creature had been back, and this time it got closer. They said it was a huge, wolf-like creature, but it never got close enough to the house to get a clear shot."

John had to admit, it seemed a bit suspect that the boy blacked out on both nights that this supposed beast was wandering around his own yard, but the occultist also wondered why the boy would be stalking his own home. He had his suspicions, and he was guessing that he was right, but the boy continued talking, so John kept listening.

"I looked it up; both time I blacked out, it was the full moon. Look...tonight is another full moon. Please, Mr. Constantine, you've got to help me. I don't want to get hurt, and I don't want to hurt anyone. My family was talking about how if they saw the creature again they were gonna grab my dad's gun and shoot it. I think if I'm that...that thing, and I really am a werewolf, isn't it true that only silver bullets can stop one?"

"Not necessarily," John replied. "If it's a young enough lycanthrope, sometimes injury to the brain or damage to the heart can stop it, but that's if they're younger than a year. You can also use a wolfsbane mixture on any weapon really, and it's lethal to the wolf. The easiest way to kill a werewolf though, if you've got the time, is to wait until they're human again and kill them then. When they're human, you can kill them any way you want, and they'll stay dead. What's your name, lad?"

"Jack," the boy replied. "Jack Grader."

"Listen, Jack. One doesn't just up and become a werewolf one night; they need to be bitten. Tell me, have you been bitten recently, or anything of the like?"

Jack thought about it for a moment. "Just before the first time my family saw the wolf, I was taking a shortcut through a graveyard, but I was attacked. I was knocked over, but nothing happened. I thought I heard a growl above me, but when I sat up, I was alone. My hand was bleeding, but I thought it just happened when I fell down."

"Let me see your hand," John requested, walking over to the young boy. The exorcist turned the boy's hand gently, avoiding touching the bruises as he examined the palm. Sure enough, there was a small scar there. It could have easily passed as something one would get from falling to an untrained eye, but John Constantine was anything but that.

"Definitely a bite," John confirmed. Jack had a whole variety of emotions play across his face.

"Is there a way to reverse the curse?"

John shook his head. "No sure-fire ways, lad. All the ways I've researched have turned out to be completely bogus."

Jack looked down at his feet; he'd been expecting such an answer, but now that it had actually been said, he didn't know how to react. "So what can I do?" he asked quietly. "I don't want to die."

"No one ever does, mate." John could tell that didn't help the boy's mood at all, so he added, "You can always take certain precautions around the full moon."

"Like what?"

"Remember that wolfsbane I mentioned earlier? It's lethal in liquid form, or if ingested, but if the plant itself touches the skin of a lycanthrope, it burns them something awful. You put some around your door and windows, it'll merely keep you from going anywhere near them, and if you can't get out of your room, you can't hurt anyone. That's a temporary solution, though. I have a few friends I could contact and see if they have any ideas on how to help you," he offered. Jack nodded and sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

The blond looked out the window, noticing how close to sundown they were getting. "Listen, Jack. I don't have any wolfsbane here with me now, but I know a place a few minutes away. I'm gonna run get some, but I'm going to put a spell on the door. It'll keep anything from getting in until I get back, but more importantly, it should keep you inside as well."

Jack looked scared to be left alone, but John reassured him. "Look lad. This right here is probably the safest place you can be for now. I can't have you out there walking around waiting for the moon to come out; I'll be back soon."

Jack nodded finally, and John clapped him on the shoulder. "Good lad," he said. "I'll be back in a jiff," he repeated. "Stay here, and uh, don't touch anything," he added before closing the door.

0-0-0

As John walked through the herb shop, he kept glancing at the other customers in the store. The blond thought about the bruises on the teen's wrists and arms again, and now, more than ever, John had a strong suspicion that someone in the boy's family was abusive; Constantine had lived with his own father long enough to recognize the signs; Jack was twitchy, and he had flinched when John reached for him.

It took John a few more minutes than he was expecting to find the wolfsbane, but he finally found it and grabbed the last bundle of the dried herb. He made his way to the front of the store, depositing the wolfsbane on the counter in front of the cashier. Without even looking up, the bored-looking girl spoke.

"Full moon again tonight? All you crazies always come looking for this stuff when there's one, saying you're going to catch yourselves a werewolf."

"That I am, lass," John replied evenly. "That would explain the apparent lack you have of it in the store."

The girl merely sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, and John added, "I'd curb my attitude about things you don't understand if I were you," John added. He set the money down on the counter and picked up his plants. "You can keep the change."

It was later than John was comfortable with, and he practically jogged all the way back to where he'd left Jack. He reached the door and felt the pulsing of the protection spell, which he was grateful to find still intact. He hadn't been sure how well the spell would hold up against a werewolf, and he wasn't keen on finding out. Closing his eyes and holding his splayed hand about an inch away from the door, John quickly muttered the counter spell, and once the shield was down, he moved to open the door. As he grasped the handle though, he heard a soft growl coming from inside.

"Oh, this can't be good," John muttered to himself. "Jack?" he called out. "Jack, it's me, John. I'm coming in now, lad. Don't worry, we're going to get everything sorted out."

When the blond opened the door, he leaned away from it at first, but when nothing came out and attacked him, the occultist cautiously moved inside. The first thing he noticed was that it was dark; either Jack just hadn't turned the lights on, or-

A roar/yell sounded to John's immediate right, and he was forced to duck as a huge paw swung towards his head, the claws barely missing John's scalp. "Jack!" he yelled, shocked to see how quickly the transformation had taken place; the moon had just barely risen! The exorcist had never been around to actually see a transformation, so he never knew the process, but if the teenager in front of him was any indication, it was a quick change.

John's thoughts were yanked back to what was most important when Jack began advancing on the blond. John held up the bundle of wolfsbane he'd acquired, now using it as a defense for himself. Wolf Jack paused and growled as he sensed the vile plant, but his desire to get out of the house won over his fear of burns. With another growl, the wolf lunged at John, forcing the occultist to dive out of the way. He wasn't quick enough to avoid being hit completely though, and Jack's back legs lashed out as he jumped through the window, connecting solidly with John's chest and propelling the man back into the counter.

With a groan of pain, John pushed himself to his feet, hobbling over to the now-shattered window, rubbing his aching chest and back. "Why didn't you just...go out the stupid door?" John muttered angrily as he observed the scene. Even though it had only been a few seconds since Jack had escaped, John couldn't see him, which was surprising with how big the beast was. However, John had a feeling he knew where Jack was headed.

John cursed quietly under his breath. He knew the boy's name, and so he was able to quickly cast a spell that lit a path for him leading to Jack's house. John just hoped that he could get there in time.

0-0-0

John stared at the carnage in front of him. A man, a woman, and a teenage girl were all on the ground, covered in blood. The mother's chest had been ripped open, the father had been gutted, and the young woman's leg had been ripped to shreds. They'd all bled out within moments.

"No," John growled, squeezing the wolfsbane so hard that it began to crumble in his hands.

He'd followed the lit path to Jack's house, but he was too late. John had heard gunshots and screaming, but by the time he'd gotten there, the damage had been done. The entire family was already dead or bleeding out on the ground, and John knew that no matter what he tried, he wasn't going to be able to save them. Suddenly John heard a soft growl, and he turned, facing the wolf that was Jack. The wolf had turned towards John, and the exorcist tensed, preparing for an attack, but then he noticed that there was a gunshot wound on the animal's chest, near its heart.

The wolf whimpered and walked forward a few steps before collapsing. Before John's eyes, the wolf changed from a monstrous animal back into a teenager. A teenager that was lying still. John walked forward until he was standing over the young man, and he saw the boy's eyes, cold and lifeless. He was dead.

Police sirens were wailing as they came towards the house. There must have been somebody nearby that heard the commotion as well and called the cops. John knew that the police wouldn't believe any of his answers to their questions, so the blond detective slipped quietly back into the woods surrounding the property, the image of the massacre seared in his brain forever.

Soooo...whatcha think? Good? Bad? I should print it out and burn it? ;) Just kidding. But seriously, let me know if you think I can improve anywhere!