Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

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The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

As soon as he was inside the building- gratefully noting that the flames were just as intense inside as they'd seemed from the outside- Spawn, still 'gliding' through the air, 'shoved' the Creeper to the floor. At the same time, he used the combined momentum of the shove to send himself flying back to land on his feet, facing his foe with a wicked grin on his face under the mask that now covered his face, his eyes gleaming red under the mask in anticipation of the fight he was about to have before him.

Glancing over himself and his foe, the man who was once Al Simmons was pleased to note that his theory about the effectiveness of fire on the Creeper had apparently been correct. His costume seemed to be protecting him from the fire- after the fires of Hell, anything else was probably a walk in the park- but the Creeper's wings already looked slightly singed around the edges, and its feet were smoking as it glared at Spawn. It didn't actually show that it was in any pain, of course- given that it was part of a group that called its own members psychopaths, it was possible they barely even registered pain- but Spawn was prepared to overlook that; his plan of attack seemed to be doing some kind of damage to it, at least, and that was enough.

Right now, his main objective wasn't to kill the thing, even if he could get a chance to try some of the more traditional methods such as decapitation; he just had to keep it occupied until Cole could get Jason away from here and the Coven could see what they could do about bringing the Crystal Lake Slasher over to their side in the upcoming battle.

As far as he was concerned, if this guy could take a great deal of damage, all the better; he enjoyed the chance to give his powers a decent work-out.

"OK then, asshole," Spawn stated, glaring at the Creeper with a broad grin as he raised his arms, the blades sprouting from them instantly. "You had the advantage last time we slugged it out; care to try for another piece of me?"

Letting off a screeching sound in reply, the Creeper dived towards Spawn, its claws outstretched as it glared wickedly in his direction, mouth open as though eager to tear a chunk out of Spawn's armour with his disturbingly sharp teeth.

Spawn reacted as soon as his opponent's feet had left the ground. Instinctively, the chains that were part of his costume lashed out to grab the Creeper's wrists and send the monstrous Frankenstein-bat-zombie 'hybrid' hurling off in another direction, watching with grim satisfaction as the creature was burned by the flames that blazed around them. Even as it landed, the creature was already spinning around to confront Malebolgia's would-be general, only for Spawn to raise his arms and blast off a burst of green energy that sent the Creeper flying back once again.

Despite the fact that the Creeper had remained on its feet throughout this confrontation- well, on its feet or on its wings- Spawn allowed himself a small grin as he launched a couple of small blades from his arms, slashing the creature's shoulders as they tore past his opponent to crash into the wall.

As the Creeper screamed in agony, clutching at his bloodied shoulders as he stared at the former assassin in front of him, Spawn grinned as he raised his hands before him, flexing his fingers eagerly as he subconsciously activated the various daggers that his suit was capable of forming.

Ever since he'd acquired these powers- particularly after his little 'smorgasboard' in Hell when he'd absorbed the powers of most of the other Hellspawn down there, giving him access to a virtually limitless amount of power- he'd been itching to have an opponent who could actually provide him with a genuine challenge, rather than a short scuffle of some kind. Ever since he'd defeated Violator in their last encounter, he hadn't encountered a single foe he'd really needed to use his powers on; most of his opponents needed nothing more than a few hits from his enhanced strength and they were out for the count.

This Creeper sucker, though… he had a lot more staying power than most of his bad guys.

It would probably take a lot to put him down.

Spawn was looking forward to it.

Outside the building, Cole and Constantine were already moving into position to attack their respective foes. Constantine had already decided to target Jason if a fight broke out while they were down there, hoping that he'd manage to get through to the Crystal Lake Slasher before they had to take him back to their base, which meant that Cole would be left slugging it out with Pinhead.

Cole had only just reached the point where he was standing in front of the bastard, and he already hated what he was going to have to do; in his experience, anything that had this much spikes on his face could be nothing but bad news.

Even in the demon underworld, the Cenobites were regarded as bad news; they were typically amoral monsters who wouldn't hesitate to just kill anyone in their paths in the pursuit of their own goals of experimenting with pain and torture. Even some demons could be bargained with if you knew what they wanted and could offer a quicker solution; the Cenobites typically just killed everybody in their path no matter what you tried to do.

Still, that wasn't his main problem right now; his ability to negotiate with a bloodthirsty demon weren't the reason he'd been allowed back into the Coven. He was there because he had a lot of powers that were good in a fight and believed in their cause; it was time he made use of those abilities.

His main problem was just staying alive long enough in a fight with this guy for Constantine to make effective contact with Jason; once they had an opportunity to get Jason away from these guys, they could just escape this fight and take care of Pinhead and his 'colleagues' later.

So, Cole thought to himself, as he raised one hand to summon a golden energy ball, I'd best make sure to keep this a long-range battle- I do not want that sucker getting his hands on me- and do what I can about finishing this SOON.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Cole had hurled the energy ball towards Pinhead, smiling grimly as the Cenobite was sent staggering back a few steps from the impact of the ball in his chest.

Refusing to give his foe a chance to strike back, Cole lashed out with another ball, increasing the power of the attack for the second attempt, only slightly surprised to note that Pinhead appeared equally capable of taking the next blow; if the Cenobites were that easy to stop, they would probably have been taken out long ago.

Of course, the problem lay in the fact that Pinhead was apparently remarkably fast at recovering from earlier attacks; Cole had encountered demons who could survive energy balls in the past, but they'd always taken more time to recover than Pinhead seemed to need. No sooner had Cole struck him with that last energy ball, then he was reaching into the air as a large, sharp blade appeared in his hands, even as he raised hand to send a razor-sharp chain hurtling in Cole's direction.

Cole managed to avoid the chain by ducking- he was reluctant to orb any distance right now, in case Pinhead managed to get up-close and take him by surprise for those brief moments where he wasn't aware of his surroundings- but it was clear that his opponent had only ever been intending to distract him with that attack rather than kill him. Lowering his arm as the sword he'd been 'summoning' earlier fully materialized, the Cenobite glared at Cole with an expression that somehow combined anger with indifference as he prepared to throw the blade at the Goldlighter.

It was the indifference that really got to Cole in the end. He could have coped with anger, and even the chain at least showed he was doing a good job at fighting Pinhead, but the guy's nonchalant attitude towards the fight, giving Cole the impression that his foe just regarded him as a minor annoyance that needed to be stomped out… like he was an insect rather than a Goldlighter, just got to him.

He didn't come back from the dead- on no less than three separate occasions, he might add- to be treated like he was an inconvenience, rather than a man desperately seeking redemption for all that shit he'd done when his entire body had been 'hijacked' by dark magic.

He may not have been as powerful as he once was, but he was not a pushover.

It was time he made sure that Pinhead realised that.

Concentrating his anger and resentment into his energy, he raised his hands and launched a massive bolt of golden energy towards the leather-clad man, nodding in grim satisfaction as the bolt burned a hole in Pinhead's coat and made him drop the blade. A quick, red-hot burst of energy towards the sword left it a mere heap of metal on the floor beside Pinhead, practically useless in a fight and literally fused to the stonework it had landed on.

"Eat that, sucker!" Cole yelled, as he watched Pinhead stare at the hole in his shirt in an almost puzzled manner, as though he couldn't quite believe that someone had done that to him.

Before Pinhead could try for another attack, Cole had lunged towards his foe, pinning- no pun intended- his opponent to the ground as he launched a powerful uppercut at the Cenobite's face. The pins that had given Pinhead his name dug painfully into Cole's knuckles, leaving thin lines of blood along his hands, but he tried not to focus on that and devote his attention to the matter at hand, hoping that his supernatural healing would be enough to keep the damage to a minimum.

He had the advantage in the fight now, and he was not going to let it go because he was in a bit of pain-

The Cenobite lashed up with a large blade in one hand in an admittedly rather successful-seeming attempt to impale Cole in the stomach, leaving the Goldlighter with no other option but to orb a short distance away from Pinhead. As soon as Cole's weight was gone, his foe was free to get back up onto his feet, the blade drawn as Pinhead glared over in Cole's direction.

"You want a piece of me?" Cole asked, raising his own right hand to summon an energy ball, muscles tensed as he glared in Pinhead's direction. "Come and get me!"

As soon as the words were out, he'd launched the energy ball at Pinhead, knocking the knife out of the Cenobite's hand, vapourising the weapon even as Pinhead's hand blistered and burned from the energy ball.

As soon as the blade had fallen from his opponent's hand, Cole had lunged forward, his hands glowing with golden energy- he'd been itching to try this particular power for a while now- and lashed out at his foe with a powerful punch, sending Pinhead staggering back, the pins in his head melting slightly from the heat of Cole's punch.

The 'Gold Punch', as Cole thought of it, wasn't the most effective of the many fighting techniques his new powers gave him. If nothing else, you had to be up-close to your opponent to use it, and in the majority of cases- particularly since he intended to stay with the Coven- his foes had so much raw strength available that such an action wouldn't have been in his best interests. However, in Pinhead's case, his main powers in combat were based on speed and endurance, rather than his raw strength, which gave Cole a slightly better chance than he might have had in other cases.

As he prepared another magically-charged punch, he could only hope that this strategy would pay off soon enough for him to actually survive the fight. He only had a limited amount of magical energy he could draw on at any one time before he became too tired to continue, and if Pinhead could take more than what he had available…

No.

He wouldn't consider that; thinking the worst wouldn't get him anywhere but dead in the current situation.

He'd just have to try right now and hope for the best.

As Cole moved into position to tackle Pinhead, Constantine found himself looking at Jason, and swallowed anxiously.

Now that he was actually here, he suddenly realised that there was a lot more riding on his plan than he'd expected.

More specifically, his ability to actually have the time to talk to Jason before the guy could slash his throat open.

This wasn't going to be easy, but he had to at least try and get through to Jason at the moment; diving into a fight with him right now wouldn't help anybody.

"Jason," he said, taking a deep breath as he slung the Holy Shotgun over his shoulder on its strap, the better to appear non-threatening as he looked at the killer before him, "you have to listen to me. I know that you've had a hard life, I know that you've experience terrible things that nobody should have to deal with, and I know that you have no reason to listen to a word I say… but you have to believe me; I'm not your enemy."

For the moment, the man who had been responsible for the creation of the so-called 'Jason Strain' just stood and stared at Constantine, apparently unconcerned about either attacking Constantine or walking away from him.

Hoping against hope that his words were getting through to Jason, Constantine took a tentative step forward, keeping his eyes fixed on Jason as he continued to speak. "I know that you hurt when you lost your mother, and I can understand your desire for revenge on a world that has given you no reason to care about anybody in it, but, trust me… you're not the only person to feel that way."

As Jason still stood in front of him, silent and contemplative, Constantine took a deep breath before continuing to speak. "In fact, I've felt that way myself, once or-"

Jason suddenly made a brief grunting noise- that sound was probably as close as he would ever come to a roar of anger, given the poor condition of his vocal chords after everything that had happened to him- and lunged towards Constantine, machete raised as though to hack at Constantine's arm.

Cursing at himself for his ill-chosen words- in Jason's mind, someone like Constantine, a man who looked and seemed perfectly normal, would have to be lying about having felt the way Jason felt at times- Constantine dived desperately out of the path of the machete as it grazed the area where his arm had been a few seconds ago. As Jason slashed out at him, Constantine could only duck back and pray that Cole managed to deal with Pinhead soon enough to make a difference.

If he was going to have any chance of stopping Jason's current attempts to kill him long enough to talk to the 'Killer of Crystal Lake', he needed to have some back-up fast…

Of course, this wasn't going to work so long as he was focusing on trying to stay out of the way of Jason's machete. Cole had Pinhead to keep him occupied in a fight for the moment and Spawn was apparently still busy with the Creeper, so he was unlikely to get any help from them any time soon, and with Jason trying to force him to do a Darth Maul impression, he couldn't spare the time to even try and call for assistance from the rest of the Coven.

He was on his own, trying to appeal to the humanity in a foe that would be perfectly 'happy'- or at least would be satisfied; whether Jason really felt any emotion about what he did any more was a valid question- to kill him as soon as he got the chance to land a decent blow with an extremely sharp machete.

Even if Constantine had been the kind of man to see the best in everyone no matter what they were trying to do in him- and he'd become an almost natural cynic over the years, given his near-resignation to his apparently inevitable sentence to Hell- he wouldn't have held out much hope of effectively making his point before he was hit by Jason's machete in a potentially fatal attack. If nothing else, he'd have to actually stop trying to dodge Jason's blows to effectively make his point- he was never good at making speeches or witty banter in a fight, mainly due to him lacking the raw strength some of his new colleagues could have used in this kind of situation- and he was definitely not prepared to take a chance that his foe would stop trying to attack him long enough for him to come up with an effective line of argument.

If the Coven's resident psychic/exorcist/detective didn't come up with something effective to stop this guy in a matter of minutes, he was going to be in serious trouble…

"Take that!" Spawn roared in triumph, as he launched another 'dagger' at the creature standing before him, his mood only slightly dampened by the Creeper deflecting the attempted attack; he'd been expecting it to gain the focus to fight back sooner or later. As the Creeper stared at Spawn, it spread its wings, as though preparing to attack its foe from the 'air' once again, Spawn seized his chance to try a different method of attack- specifically, something he'd been wanting to do since he'd first seen the Creeper's wings.

Lashing out with his chains, he smiled grimly as the chains speared straight through the Creeper's wings, spreading out as soon as they'd passed through his opponent's wings. Even as the Creeper screamed in pain and rage, the flames burning at his limbs and wings, Spawn was lunging forward, the blades on his arms outstretched as he flexed the chains to bring himself closer to his target, grinning under his mask as he prepared to strike at something that he could only describe as resembling the blood-thirsty offspring of Frankenstein and Dracula.

If he recalled Constantine's 'briefing' on the creature correctly, the Creeper was only meant to wake up for twenty-three days every twenty-three years, but the Gathering appeared to have interrupted the cycle when they 'recruited' the Creeper as a member.

As far as Spawn was concerned, he was going to make sure that the Creeper wished it had stayed asleep this time around, rather than responding to the Gathering's 'wake-up call'.

Almost as soon as that thought finished crossing his mind, Spawn reached his target, and, in a matter of moments, the blades that had extended from his arms had sliced through the Creeper's neck, sending his opponent's head flying off to the side from the sheer force of the impact, the Creeper's body being simultaneously thrown back by a rapid kick to the chest that sent it crashing into the opposite wall.

Grinning, Spawn stepped back, retracting his chains from the Creeper's wings- now badly torn from his initial attack on the creature- as he let the body fall to the burning floor, allowing the wings to slowly burn up as the rest of the body turned increasingly black and charred around the edges from the fire.

"How do you like that, asshole?" he said, grinning broadly as he stared at the downed Creeper before him, the head already collapsing into black ash a short distance away as the flames became ever more powerful. "You really thought you could-"

Then the Creeper's body, headless and with burning wings- leapt up and, before Spawn could respond, the Creeper had grabbed the still-active blades on his arms and literally snapped them off Spawn's arms. Even as Spawn's mask folded away to allow him to instinctively scream in pain, the Creeper, holding its new weapons as though they were daggers, slashed out with the former assassin's stolen blades, tearing through Spawn's neck and sending his head flying up into the air.

Tossing its improvised daggers off to one side, the Creeper's body reached up, grabbed Spawn's flying head out of the sky as it began to fall back down, and placed the head on the stump where its neck had once been. As green and red energy burst from the narrow seam where the Creeper's neck joined Spawn's head, the head's mouth twisted into a malicious smile as it felt fragments of Spawn's power spread through its own body.

If the Creeper was capable of actual thought, rather than mainly operating on instinct as it killed, it would have been eagerly anticipating the damage it could do with the powers it would soon 'acquire' from this new body-part.

As he ducked away from another swipe of Jason's machete, Constantine's gaze briefly shifted over to check on Cole's progress with Pinhead. He noted, with a mixture of relief and worry, that both figures were still standing, currently trading punches at a surprising rate, neither one looking quite read to go down for the count yet.

On the one hand, he had no idea how long Pinhead could keep fighting before he needed to 'shut down' or something similar; remarkably little was actually known about the Cenobites.

On the other hand, he knew very well that Cole could not keep up that kind of pace for long before he drained his magical reserves, leaving him even more vulnerable to Pinhead than he was at the moment- and, in all fairness to his resurrected ally, Cole wasn't exactly doing all that good against Pinhead at full strength.

Time to try something new against that sucker, Constantine thought to himself, as he checked his back to make sure the Holy Shotgun was still there before he sprang into action. Finding it there, he smiled, rolled back out of Jason's way, and then pulled out the Shotgun to point it in Pinhead's direction.

"Cole!" he yelled at his ally, who was just preparing to launch another punch at Pinhead. "Duck and roll!"

To his credit, Cole didn't even question Constantine's reasons for giving such an order; he reacted instantly, 'powering down' his glowing hand and leaping off to the side, giving Constantine a clear shot at Pinhead's face.

"Asta la vista, Pinny!" Constantine yelled, as he pulled the trigger on the Holy Shotgun. Instantly, Pinhead was sent reeling back as the blessed bullets struck him directly in the head. Before the Cenobite could get back to his feet, Constantine had dashed over to stand above his fallen form and fired two more blasts, at practically point-blank range, into Pinhead's skull, leaving his head a massive, gaping 'wound' that not even his remarkable healing abilities would manage to cure any time soon.

Spinning the Holy Shotgun once in his hand, Constantine grinned down casually at his fallen foe as he glanced over at Cole, a broad grin on his face.

"Can we kick ass, or can we kick ass?" he asked, cocking a casual eyebrow at the Goldlighter.

"Oh, we can kick ass all right!" Cole said, holding up one hand as though to give Constantine a high five before he noticed the blood still trickling between his knuckles and lowered it. "Sorry… hands are still a bit tender… got caught up in the moment…"

Constantine shrugged.

"Fair enough," he said, before he glanced over his friend's shoulder and saw Jason approaching, machete raised as though he was going to slice Cole's left arm off. "Uh, Cole? Jason?"

"Wh-" Cole began, before he stopped, sighed in a bored manner, and spun around to face Jason. Before the Crystal Lake Slasher could slice at Cole with his machete, the Goldlighter had raised his hands and launched a fine golden 'powder' into his would-be foe's face. As soon as the 'powder' hit Jason's mask, the man- if he could be called that after what had happened to him- blinked, looked at the two men before him in confusion, and then fell forward onto his front, totally unconscious.

Looking down at the body before them, Constantine sighed slightly.

Sorry about that, Jason, he mused, as he crouched down to examine the body of the man they'd come down here to 'retrieve'. Trust me; if there'd been an easier way, I'd have taken it…

"AAARRGGHH!" Cole suddenly screamed, as a burst of green energy suddenly appeared out of the corner of Constantine's eye, striking his friend in the chest; if Constantine hadn't been crouching down at the time, he'd probably have been hit by the blast himself.

What the…? Constantine asked himself, leaping to his feet and drawing the Holy Shotgun even as the glow faded from his vision, Cole collapsing to the ground beside him at the same time.

No sooner had Constantine back on his feet, however, than something passed rapidly by him, striking him with such force that he was sent tumbling back to the ground, the Holy Shotgun falling from his grasp as he hit the ground.

Rolling over, Constantine turned to look in the direction of whatever it was that had just attacked him, and his eyes widened in horror.

It was the Creeper.

Specifically, it was the Creeper with its head gone…

…and Spawn's head on its neck!

Oh crap, Constantine thought to himself.

Judging by the expression of murderous glee on what had been once been Spawn's face, the Creeper was clearly in control of the body facing him at the moment- and, based on the green glow that surrounded the Creeper's hands, it had acquired some of Spawn's powers as well.

So, Constantine thought to himself, as he stared at the creature before him, desperately trying to get his breath back, I'm on my own, unarmed and practically defenceless, against an unkillable monster who eats people and can apparently survive getting its fucking head cut off without much difficulty, and my only allies are either dead, unconscious, or unconscious and of uncertain allegiance, to say the least?

Glaring at the Creeper before him, Constantine smiled grimly to himself, as a resolution settled in his mind.

If he was going to die here and now, he was going to die fighting.

Inside the burning building, unheard and unnoticed by the other combatants, as Spawn's body lay in the fire, his armour protecting his remains from the heat- after the fires of Hell itself, nothing else really compared to it- a faint green glow surrounded his neck, before slowly but surely spreading from there to surround the area where his head had once been.

If anyone had been there to watch it, they would had been awed to see the sight before them; from nothing but air, the former assassin's head was actually growing back, regenerating from the skull and neck upwards and outwards.

The bones were not only restored already, but they continued to grow new flesh and muscle, a brilliant green glow spreading along the head as Spawn's powers healed the damage that the Creeper had done.

It only took moments for Spawn to do something that so many immortal beings in the world regarded as impossible; regrow his entire head in a matter of no more than a few minutes.

"Ouch…" the former Al Simmons groaned as he clutched at his head, shaking it slightly as though trying to clear it. "That wasn't pretty…"

Then he heard the sound of an energy burst from outside- more specifically, the sound of one of his energy bursts- and swore under his breath.

Since it was unlikely that the Gathering had managed to recruit another Hellspawn, that could only mean that the Creeper had acquired his powers after the sucker recently 'stole' his head (Somehow or other, Spawn could actually remember the bastard putting his… his old head on his fucking neck).

Well then, Spawn mused to himself, flexing his fingers eagerly as he glanced through the hall in the wall that he had crashed through earlier, time to show that guy why you don't steal from Al Simmons…

Even as Constantine began to dash towards the Holy Shotgun as it lay a few feet from him, he knew that it wouldn't do him any good even if he did manage to grab it in time. He may have been good when it came to dealing with the demons of his world, but an immortal like the Creeper, with no apparent weaknesses and superhuman strength, speed and stamina, capable of apparently surviving even decapitation without experiencing any long-term problems?

He wouldn't have a prayer in holding it off alone long enough for Cole to regain consciousness; that blow the Creeper had just given his ally did not look like it would heal soon enough for the Goldlighter to help him escape.

This is it… he thought to himself, as he saw the Creeper raise a glowing green hand in his direction. I die… but at least I'll die like a man… on my feet, trying to keep fighting…

Then, much to his surprise, a massive beam of brilliant green energy, almost as thick as a full-grown man, struck the Creeper directly in the chest, sending it flying into the wall of the nearby building with such force that the wall literally cracked from the force of the impact.

Constantine blinked in shock.

After seeing the Creeper's 'new look', he definitely hadn't expected this to happen…

"Spawn?" he said, as the Coven's newest ally walked up to stand beside him, the familiar large red cloak sweeping around behind him as he smiled at his friends. "But… but the Creeper had your fucking head?!"

Spawn shrugged.

"Turns out the ability to regenerate limbs is one of those powers this thing gives me," he said, tapping his armour with a smile on his face. "Don't know how, and I definitely don't want to make a habit of it- neck still smarts from where that bastard slashed at me- but the sucker actually lets me grow a new head if I need it."

Despite the fact that they were still in a combat situation, he chuckled to himself as his cape spread out around him, giving him the momentary of appearance of having massive, bat-like wings coming from his shoulders. "Far as I'm concerned, it looks like it's going to be pretty hard to kill me now."

"Yikes…" Constantine muttered to himself as he stared at his still-new friend, trying to process what he'd just learned about the Coven's newest member. He'd known that Spawn was powerful- Hell wouldn't have made a man it was intending to be a general in its army a weak fighter- but knowing that the guy could actually grow a new head if he needed it…

He was damn grateful that Spawn was on their side.

"Now then," Spawn said, grinning casually as he turned to look at the Creeper, which was already getting back onto its feet, Pinhead already healed and walking over to stand beside it with a casual smirk on his face, "we could do the fight thing all over again, but, seeing how Cole's already got Jason down for the count for the moment, there's really no need for us to stick around any longer."

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner as the Creeper raised its hands, evidently preparing to fire off another 'energy burst' at its foes. "So, sorry to be rude, but we've gotta run."

Before either of the 'Supernatural Psychopaths' before them could attack, Spawn's cloak had spread out from his back, gathering over Constantine, Cole and Jason as it did so, before it suddenly 'dived' back towards Spawn, pulling his allies with it. As the two killers watched in surprise, the bulging cloak was suddenly engulfed in green, flame-like energy, which vanished as fast as it appeared as the entire cloak- and all the figures 'contained' within it- vanished from right in front of their would-be killers.