Hello everyone! I'm really really sorry that I took so long, I've been caught up with biology, physics and chemistry :( I don't really know how I feel about this chapter. At least I finally have an idea of where my story is going, but I'm ALWAYS open to suggestions, so let me know what you think :D love you guys, thank yous so much for reading/reviewing 3 xoxoxo

Warning: Language (a couple f-bombs, nothing you can't handle ;])
Disclaimer: I don't own Constantine or Hellblazer or anything!

Chapter 4

"Damn straight we need to talk." Said Chas angrily. "First of all, what the hell were you doing staring at me and my friend earlier? What, were you stalking me? You don't own me, John. I'm allowed to have a miniature social life outside of being your personal slave!" His voice had increased to an almost shout.

John looked Chas straight in the eyes. He saw his own anger reflected in John's eyes. Along with something else. Worry? Naw, surely the John Constantine, badass to the extreme, wasn't worried. He had dragon's breath for Christ sake! What was there to be worried about when you had a gun full of dragon's breath? That shit was hot enough to turn you to soup within 5 seconds. Chas often wished that John would let him borrow some of the cool gadgets he got from Beeman. But ooooh no, you couldn't trust Chas with something as harmless as screeching beetles because he might accidentally turn them loose on you. These thoughts were racing through Chas's mind as if the dam of built up anger and broken and now fury was coursing through his head, all the while John was still looking at him. The shadow of worry gone only to be replaced with a sneer that tugged on the corner of his lip. For the second time that night, Chas found himself staring at those lips.

He flushed, suddenly becoming nervous. His anger was slowly fading into a dull throb in the back of his skull, forming into a headache that was bound to stick around for a couple days. Chas had never really used that tone of voice towards John. Yeah, he complains about never being allowed to do anything, and always asks questions, but he rarely yells.

"How many times to I have to tell you, kid? You're not my slave; you're my much appreciated apprentice." John said sarcastically. Chas was taken aback. That was it? No shouting? No punishment? Just teasing? Chas was expecting a snide retort something along the lines of, "Shut the fuck up, Chas. You don't know anything, I'm John Constantine and I'm the best, blah blah blah..." Chas couldn't help but smile a little. He should still be mad, but John seemed to be good at brining him to the boiling point before suddenly turning off the heat, forcing Chas to cool down.

He decided not to ruin being let off the hook by demanding answers, so he tried to get more comfortable in the extremely uncomfortable wooden chair. He swirrelled the dark whiskey around in the glass, first sniffing, and then hesitantly taking a sip. He winced as he felt the alcohol travel down his throat, leaving a searing sensation in its wake. He could feel John's eyes on him.

"So," said Chas. "what do you want to talk about?" John was in the middle of pouring himself another glass, having already finished his first one. He looked Chas up and down.

"Finish your drink first."

Chas made an impatient sound, downing the whole thing in one gulp. He gasped, fighting down the urge to ralph as his stomach churned. After a couple of seconds it settled. "Alright. Now can you tell me what the hell is going on?"

John sighed. "I wasn't going to say anything, but then this morning I saw you and your 'friend' over at Fielding Park." Chas's face reddened and he looked down and his scuffed up shoes, avoiding John's eyes. Yeah, he knew John had seen them, but it was still very embarrassing to be sitting here talking about it! Fortunately for Chas, John kept going.

"He's the reason I called you over here. You shouldn't associate yourself with that guy, Chas. He's a half-breed. A demon half-breed. A lying, deceiving, cunning creature that feels only hate and anger." John's words were harsh, cutting through Chas like a knife. Jack? With his bright sweaters and charming smile? That infectious laugh? Those soft lips that made him melt? No. Impossible. John had mistaken him for someone else.

"No way." Said Chas, rising from his chair. "He may be a half-breed, but he's different. Jack would never-"

"Jack?" John cut Chas off. "Is that what he's calling himself these days?"

Chas narrowed his eyes at John. "Yes, John, because that's his name. You obviously think he's someone else. Why do you even care about who I hang out with?"

John's eyes widened. "I don't," He said, a little unconvincingly. "I'm worried about my rep. Now would you just sit down, shut up and listen to what I have to say?" He said, almost pleadingly, but not quite. John was much too proud to plead.

"I don't want to hear what you have to say about my friend, John." Chas said tiredly, turning around and walking towards the door.

"Chas," John said. "Sit the fuck down or you're fired." There was no teasing in his voice. This was the dangerous voice he used when threatening a half-breed at Midnite's or in the morning before he's had coffee. Chas stopped walking, one hand on the doorknob. He desperately wanted to say 'fuck you' and walk out the door, but would he never be able to pay rent with the salary of a taxi driver alone. He needed another source of income. With a deep sigh, Chas turned back around and shuffled to the table, glaring at John the whole time. John looked unruffled at the boy's vicious stare.

"Now," he said when Chas sat down. "Just listen and don't interrupt." Chas, still glaring, gave a slight nod. " I knew your 'friend', Jack, back before he changed his name. Long before you started working for me, about ten years ago. When I knew him, he went by the name Parzifal, which means destroyer in Latin." Chas snickered. Parzifal? That sounded like a spice. John continued, ignoring him.

"We met at Midnite's, back when business was just getting started. He was one of the worst half-breeds I've met so far. He and his pal, another half-breed, used to turn humans on each other by playing around with the seven deadly sins. They would touch someone, increasing the feeling of say, jealousy, to the point where that person would kill someone else because they were jealous of their shoes. As if that wasn't bad enough, Parzifal would lure people back to his house with charm. He would then inject them with demon blood, turning them into something horrible. I tried at least fifteen times to deport their asses back to the pits of hell where they belong, but they always managed to slip through my grasp. One night I followed Parzifal to a random bar a few streets away from here, planning on ambushing him and deporting him, but not before beating the shit out of him. All was going as planned. He came out of the bar piss drunk after a few hours, stumbling into a dark alley. I crept up and tackled him from behind. Just before I was about to speak the final words that would send him to hell, he thrust his and up to my face, showing me a dark symbol tattooed on the palm. I recognized it immediately. It was a mimic mark. Whatever harm I did to him would happen to me. I would be going to hell along with him. I didn't care, thinking I was already headed to hell anyway. Before I could continue he asked if I would like to make a deal. In exchange for me not deporting him, he would try and be a good half-breed. I agreed, but for the next three years I kept an eye on him. Occasionally I would drop in and scare the living shit out of him, just to make sure he kept to his side of the bargain. One mistake and he's going straight to hell, and I'll be down there with him."