John recited an ancient sumerian chant as he sat cross legged and naked before an arrangement of candles. He let out a quiet moan as he felt the spiritual energy enter through his skin, rolling his eyes back as he concentrated on that power. A spot of cold traveled down John's stomach as the deity drew from his life force. Many of John's powers came at a price. A portion of his life was a smaller price than most.
Not long ago, John Constantine had died. After decades of doing battle with black magic, demons, and the undead, John had come face to face with Neron and given his life and soul to save his friend Chas. Neron had taken John to Hell, but he had been saved by the timely arrival of the time traveling Legends of Tomorrow, who snatched him and his soul out of Hell and whisked him away to the future.
The Legends had saved and recruited John because they needed his help dealing with a magical temporal anomaly known as the Cult of Darhk. He had agreed to help and been granted a small room aboard their time traveling spaceship: the Waverider.
John heard a knock on the metallic door to his room. He let out one final phrase and the candles snuffed themselves out, the smoke in the room gathering around John before seeping into his body and sealing the contract. John rose and approached the door, hitting the 'open' button beside it.
"Oh!" gasped Ray, instinctively covering his eyes and turning away, face flushing until he was a light pink, "John! Sorry! I didn't… Uh…"
John recalled he was still naked and scoffed in amusement.
"One moment, big man," he assured, closing the door.
When John returned a few minutes later he had changed into his more familiar look of a button down and a red tie. Ray sighed with relief. His brain had just completely short-circuited. He had no social roadmaps with how to interact with people like John. It was intimidating at times.
"I, uh, wanted to see how you've been," said Ray after a moment.
"I'm fine," assured John, "Why wouldn't I be?"
"John," said Ray, "We literally pulled you out of Hell."
"How many times do I have to say 'thank you,' huh?"
"You haven't once asked to go back and see friends or family," said Ray plainly, losing his patience, "Aren't you worried about them?"
"Maybe I don't have any friends or family to see. Ever think of that, eh?"
"John-"
"Listen here, big man," said John, now impatient as well, "I'm here to put an end to this Cult of Darhk, but I'm not getting all touchy feely just because we're on the same team. Stopping that evil is the priority."
"Maybe," said Ray, "but we need to be able to trust each other. We need to have each other's backs."
John paused for a moment, considering his response.
"That attitude will get you killed," he said bitterly, "Now bugger off. I have some more ethereal pacts to make before we get this party started."
John closed the door. Ray sighed. He had never met someone as revolted by help and kindness as John. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He didn't want to approach John more than he wanted to be approached, but it was hard not to worry about him. Ray just wanted to help.
"Johno giving you a cold reception?" asked Charlie.
Ray looked over and saw the shapeshifting punk femme strutting down the hall in a leather jacket, plaid skirt, fishnets, and combat boots. Charlie had known John from before either of them joined the Legends and Charlie had in fact been the one to personally rescue John from Hell.
"Yeah," said Ray, "My fault. I guess I should just leave him alone."
"Don't feel bad," smirked Charlie, "He's always been a bit of a wet blanket. Haven't you, Johno!?"
"Piss off!" shouted John back from the other side of the door.
"You think he'll be alright?" Ray asked Charlie quietly, stepping away from the door.
"No way to tell," shrugged Charlie, "but don't worry your pretty little head over it. He's not your problem, Rayge."
Charlie kept on strutting past Ray, leaving him in the hallway to contemplate that.
"Where the hell is he?" demanded Sara.
"He said he'd be here in a minute," shrugged Mona.
"What's the big deal?" shrugged Mick, "I never come to these things."
Sara, Mona, Zari, Wally, Ray, Leonard, and Charlie had all gathered on the bridge. Sara stood at the console while the rest of them sat about the raised parlor area. All were dressed for the mission: Sara in her white tactical uniform, Wally in his Kid Flash suit (though unmasked), and Leonard in his parka. Mona, Zari, Ray, and Charlie dressed in their most practical clothes. John was nowhere to be seen.
"The big deal," snapped Sara at Mick, "is that John is essential to this mission. It's the whole reason we recruited him. He needs to know the plan."
"Alright, alright," announced John as he strolled onto the bridge while putting his trenchcoat on, "No need to get up in arms. Here I am."
"Gideon," said Sara impatiently.
"Yes Captain," responded the calm, artificial voice, "Gotham City: October 31st, 1975."
A holographic model of Gotham City appeared on the console. The windshield of the ship converted to a monitor as photos and documents from the time period appeared in different windows across it.
"Ooh," mused Leonard, "Halloween, I like it."
"Let's TP some punks when we're done," grunted Mick, taking a sip of beer.
"Focus," said Sara, "This is important. The cults we've been fighting in different time periods? They all originate from here."
"How is that possible?" asked Wally.
"Your precious little ship here isn't the only thing that transcends space and time, squire," interjected John, "Damien Darhk's little trick can release something far more powerful than any one moment in time."
"Indeed," added Gideon, "According to historical records, in most timelines Damien's plot results in an event that halts time completely."
"That's a long Halloween," muttered Zari.
"Obviously this has serious implications," added Ray, "The stoppage of time effectively ends an infinite amount of timelines. The number of potential lives lost is literally incalculable."
"So we have to stop it," said Leonard, unimpressed, "How?"
"I believe I can help with that," offered John.
Sara nodded.
"I did some research into this sort of time magic," said John, "Countless cultures have dabbled in the subject, but it all comes back to one being: Mallus."
Zari scoffed.
"Laugh it up, love," said John, "but don't underestimate his power. You see all magic originates from some powerful being. Sorcerers, warlocks, wizards, witches… Whatever you call us, we're not the ones with the actual powers. We're just borrowing them from someone greater. And if Damien Darhk wants enough temporal control to stop time, well then there's only one way to do it. He's going to summon the great time demon: Mallus."
"The name isn't really doing it for me," commented Charlie.
"That won't matter once all of time and space has ceased to exist, now will it?" countered John.
"How do we prevent it, John?" asked Sara firmly.
"Mallus is sealed away between the very moments of time themselves," explained John, "Damien is going to perform a ritual that'll undo the spell that trapped him there. Luckily, there are only so many rituals that can do such a thing. I have a pretty good idea of what he's going to do."
Gideon's model of Gotham swiped away and a topographical map replaced it. John approached the console. John approached and touched his finger to a point on the map, which lit up with a red dot.
"Gotham Clocktower," explained John, "That's where he'll perform the ritual. But in order to make it work he's going to need a thunderstorm; a powerful one."
"There was indeed a powerful storm in Gotham that Halloween," noted Gideon.
"And that's no coincidence; I'll guarantee it," said John, "Damien conjured that storm. My best guess is an offering to Teshub, the Hurrian god of thunder. Now to do that, he'd need a freshly crafted axe and the skull of a virile steer. All we'd have to do is reclaim those trinkets, but they can be anywhere in the city."
"I'll find them," assured Wally, "I'll start with the iron mills and work my way from there."
"On the off chance that doesn't work," noted Sara, "someone should be going after Damien directly."
"I'll take care of it," assured John, "It should be someone who knows they're way around a magic wand, so to speak."
"Not alone," ordered Sara, "Charlie and Ray are going with you for backup."
John suppressed an eyeroll.
"I'll go too," volunteered Zari, "The cult was after my totem, it must hold the secret to stopping them."
"Fine," agreed Sara, "The rest of us will handle any cultists Damien has working on this in the city."
Leonard and Mona nodded. Mick grunted.
"Alright everyone," announced Sara as she turned to leave, "Hope you brought your costumes, because we're going trick or treating!"
"...trick or treating?" frowned John after Sara had exited earshot, "That was bloody awful. Does she always do that?"
"Or something like it," shrugged Charlie "I'd say it's pretty hit or miss."
"I think they're fun," smiled Ray.
"Feeling at home, Z?" asked Charlie.
"I won't be born for another half a century, so no," replied Zari, "Not to mention that most of my memories of this city are associated with a police state."
"Well with any luck we'll find out what your totem has to do with all this," chimed in Ray, "Maybe then we can even help you fix things back home!"
"Don't make promises you can't keep, big man," added John.
Ray sighed to himself. He just wanted to offer Zari his support. He couldn't understand why John felt the need to shoot it down so immediately.
The four were walking down the middle of the street as the enormous Gotham Clocktower loomed above them, towering over the surrounding skyline. The Gotham Clocktower was one of the oldest buildings in the city, dating back to the early 20th century before the Arkham family bought up most of the city. The storm clouds gathering above the tower only added to the ancient and ominous feel. Occasional lighting flashes reflected off the gold colored face, adding to the effect.
Soon they arrived at the foot of the tower, where John held up a hand to signal for them all to stop. He looked around and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.
"Is now really the time?" asked Zari impatiently.
Ignoring her, John drew a single cigarette out of the pack and flicked it forward. A shimmer of golden light flashed across the building's exterior just before the cigarette made contact with the bricks, igniting it and burning away the small tobacco product in a single moment.
"Oh," realized Zari.
"Damien Darhk planned for this," explained John, "This is one of the strongest protection spells known to man: The Cage of Acala."
"No problem for a Master of the Dark Arts though," smiled Charlie, giving John a playful shove to the shoulder, "Right, Johno?"
"Were it only so simple," sighed John, "Using Acala's powers for selfish purposes is no small feat. Let's see now…"
John began walking along the perimeter of the clocktower, carefully inspecting the building as he did so. The others followed him, none quite sure of what John was doing until he let out a satisfied "Aha!"
A small ebony idol was embedded in the bricks of the wall. The idol was of a stern looking man sitting cross legged adorned with bronze jewelry of what appeared to be Japanese in origin.
"Is that thing keeping the barrier up?" asked Zari.
"Oh it is," said John.
"Great!" smiled Charlie, "Problem solved!"
"Not so fast," cautioned John, "Acala is a protector of the Dharma. He is not one to lend his powers for purposes such as this. Damien Darhk must have used unspeakably evil magic to corrupt this idol. Removing it would be excruciating if the one who did it even survived."
"So what?" said Zari, "We're screwed?"
"I didn't say that, now did I?" smirked John, "Luckily for you lot, you've recruited yourselves a dead man. I've got nothing to lose."
John reached for the idol, but Ray grabbed his hand before he could touch it.
"Wait," said Ray, "Let's think this through first."
"I suppose you have a better idea?" replied John.
"You said the spell was called the Cage of Acala, right?"
"...I did."
"What if one of us slips through?" suggested Ray.
"It's not so literal," said John, "It's not like the barrier is made of iron bars."
"I know that," said Ray, "but surely the structural concept is the same. If the barrier was closed around the building, then there might be a space between where the closing points met."
Ray's occasional literal interpretation of metaphors may have led to many awkward social interactions, but over time he had found it helpful in his engineering career. Metaphors always came from somewhere and reverse engineering the thought process was a lot like solving a mathematical proof. The Legends had taken note of this and came to trust Ray's unorthodox approach to problem solving. John didn't understand it.
"That may be true," acknowledged John, "but we're talking about a space barely larger than a couple of molecules. It's not as if-"
John stopped talking as he saw Ray was holding a small metal figure in his hand. It was his Atom suit, a technology that allowed Ray to shrink down to nearly the size of an atom. John hadn't seen it in action before and indeed had even forgotten Ray had it.
"You'll be going in alone," warned John, "without any backup."
"It's like you said," replied Ray, "Stopping that evil is the priority."
John looked back at Ray. Ray's face was resolute. John sighed and nodded. Ray smiled at the approval.
Ray turned back to face the clocktower. He clicked a button on the suit as it enlarged to his size. The back of the suit opened, allowing Ray to step in. The suit closed around Ray before he and the suit both shrank down until they were no longer visible to the others.
Ray rocketed through the air. The Atom suit's internal navigation system communicated directly with Ray's mind, compensating for the incomprehensibly large world he now inhabited. He flew through the air and approached the wall of the clock. He held out his hand and fired an energy pulse. The blue burst of energy collided with the invisible golden force, releasing a shimmer so bright Ray's visor had to refract the light. Ray used that moment to analyze the barrier, seeing that there was indeed a molecular opening. Ray rocketed toward it and shrunk farther, passing through the barrier and then one of the crevices of the building itself before emerging inside. Ray reverted to normal size.
"I made it inside," said Ray into his suit's communicator.
"Nice going, Rayge!" replied Charlie, "Any sign of Damien?"
"No," said Ray, looking around the massive interior of the clocktower filled with turning gears and scaffolding.
"Johno says you'll probably find him near the top."
"Roger that," replied Ray.
Ray initiated his suit's thrusters and soared up past the gears and scaffolding until he reached a platform at the top, accessible only through an opening on the underside. Ray flew up and landed in the room within clocktower's four faces, where an elaborate living area had been set up, complete with armchairs, bookshelves of ancient-looking tomes, and a full dining table with seating.
"Who the hell are you!?" demanded someone.
Ray turned to see a pale blonde man in an expensive-looking completely black suit. He had been standing with his hands behind his back looking up at the backside of one of the clock faces, only slightly turning to shift his attention to Ray.
"I'm Ray Palmer of the Legends of Tomorrow!" announced Ray without hesitation, hands on his hips.
"Those time traveling weirdos?" scoffed the man, "I should have guessed you'd interfere with my ritual."
"I take it you're Damien Darhk?"
Damien uttered an ancient Japanese phrase as he pointed at Ray. Ray gasped as he felt the jolt of the Atom suit being overloaded. The emergency escape system activated, opening the back of the suit just before the entire thing powered down. Ray stepped back out of the suit and dove to the side just as Damien conjured a fireball and flung it at where Ray had been, blasting his suit and leaving it scorched in the corner of the room.
"I'll take that as a yes," chuckled Ray nervously.
"I don't know what kind of tech you freaks use," said Damien, "but it won't work against me."
Damien flung another fireball that Ray only barely managed to dodge. Then Damien reached out for Ray. Ray froze where he was, held in place by an unseen force. Damien flicked his wrist and Ray was flung across the room, sliding painfully along the floor upon landing.
"And it doesn't matter," continued Damien, "You're too late. The ritual is complete. Upon the next lightning strike, the bolt will collide with this clocktower and this clock face will become the gateway for Mallus's arrival. Time as you know it will cease to exist. Time will only exist as I will it. And you won't be included."
"...why tell me all of this?" coughed Ray, getting up to his knees.
"I love a good evil monologue," smiled Damien with a shrug, "Who doesn't?"
There was a deafening clap of thunder as the entire building seemed to shake. Damien's grin grew wider as he turned to see the fruits of his work. The smile faded a moment later when Mallus didn't appear. Confused, Damien rushed to a small window in the corner of the room.
"My storm!" cried Damien angrily, "Where the hell's my storm!?"
The dark clouds in the sky had become a light faded grey. The flashes of lightning were nonexistent and only the soft rumblings of thunder gave any indication that a storm had recently taken place.
"I guess Wally did it," grinned Ray, "No thunderstorm, no lightning, no time demon."
Damien glared back at Ray, thrusting out his arm.
"Hrk!" grunted Ray as his body slammed against the wall behind him.
"Looks like my initial plan is a bust," scoffed Damien, "but there are consequences to failing a time demon and I don't intend to face them. Luckily, I think Mallus would be satisfied if I presented him with a sacrifice."
Damien flicked his wrist and Ray was once again flung across the room, this time slamming down on top of the dining table. Damien recited an ancient greek chant as steel chains with a faint glow to them emerged from the floor. Ray tried to scramble off the table and two his feet, but four manacles formed on the ends of the chains and each clamped down on a wrist or ankle before dragging Ray back onto the table.
Ray fought against the restraints as they pulled him down onto the table from four directions. Soon his wrists and ankles were tightly held down against the table as Ray was left pinned spread eagle. We went to cry out in protest, but two more chains emerged and connected in front of his face, magically forming a muzzle with a large metal insert. The muzzle pressed tightly down on Ray's face as the insert was shoved down into his mouth, where Ray instinctively found himself biting down on it.
Damien drew an ancient looking knife out of his belt as he slowly approached Ray. Ray let out muffled protests as he struggled in vain against the chains holding him down.
"Nnh!" he yelled out, "Nnth!"
His eyes grew wide as Damien held the dagger high in the air. Ray went silent and winced as Damien plunged it toward Ray's heart.
"Hrngh!" cried Ray.
But he realized that despite the sharp pain, he wasn't dead. He unclenched his eyes to see that Damien had stopped his motion just after piercing Ray's shirt and pressing the blade into Ray's chest. Damien grabbed the shirt with his other hand and tore away with the knife, lightly scraping Ray's skin as the fabric tore away, leaving Ray shirtless.
"Oh don't worry," sneered Damien, "We're just getting started."
Damien proceeded to cut off Ray's pants and boxers before cutting and pulling away his socks and shoes. Now Ray was completely naked, chained, and bound to the table. Ray's muscles tensed up as Damien firmly placed the tip of the knife on Ray's chest, only a single motion away from plunging it into his heart.
Ray's teeth clenched down on the muzzle's insert as Damien began dragging the tip of the dagger across Ray's chest. The ancient markings on the blade began to glow an eerie red. The pink marks left by the knife's scrapes began to glow the same eerie red as the markings. It was then that Ray saw that the marks had formed some sort of symbol. The symbol ignited into an intense pain, spreading throughout his body.
"HHHRRRNNNGGGHHH!" screamed Ray, tearing up.
"Crying?" smirked Damien, "Come now, I thought you were supposed to be a Legend! Isn't that what you called yourself?"
Ray tensed up and did his absolute best not to show the enormity of the pain he was in, but it was getting exponentially harder by the moment. Damien's laughter only got louder as Ray teared up more.
"That's a riot coming from you!" called out John's voice, "Sacrificing an innocent man to save your own despicable skin."
Damien ceased what he was doing and turned to face John, knife at the ready. Damien sneered when he saw that John was being held prisoner by several of Damien's cultists. One of the cloaked figures held the warlock's hands behind his back as he glared at the sight before him.
Ray's eyes, nearly watering from the pain, widened in fear when he saw that John had been captured. What had happened to Zari and Charlie? Ray couldn't believe how badly he had messed this up. Now he was completely exposed to Damien and at his mercy. John would see that clearly. Maybe John had been right. Maybe Ray shouldn't have made promises he couldn't keep.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Damien.
"We found him surveying the outside of the building," explained the cultist holding him, "He's some sort of sorcerer. Calls himself John Constantine."
"Ooh," smiled Damien, twirling the knife in his hand as he approached John, "You don't say? I do believe I've heard of that name. Some limey pissing off demons left and right across the pond. Let's put an end to that little crusade, shall we?"
Damien thrust the knife directly into John's chest. Ray cried out through the muzzle.
No! thought Ray This can't happen! If John dies because of me...
John mumbled something as blood began to pour down his chest.
"What was that?" grinned Damien, holding a hand up to his ear, "I didn't quite catch it?"
"Zari, now!" yelled John.
John grabbed onto the knife's hilt as the cultist directly behind him thrust a hand out at Damien. Something ruby colored lit up under her cloak as a massive burst of wind threw Damien across the room, leaving the knife in John.
Ray looked about in complete confusion. Zari removed her hood to reveal herself. John grimaced as he pulled the knife out of the glowing wound in his chest before shapeshifting back into Charlie. Ze rubbed the slowly healing wound. The other cultists, taken aback, all drew scimitars and daggers of their own.
"I might have regeneration powers," muttered Charlie, "but that still bloody hurts."
"Why you little," muttered Damien, getting back to his feet, "Give that back!"
"Oh yeah?" dared Zari, "Make us!"
"With pleasure," hissed Damien quietly.
Damien formed and hurled a fireball at the two. Charlie and Zari both dove in opposite directions. Damien threw another at Zari, who held it back with a burst of wind. Damien held out his hand and pushed the fireball past it, forcing Zari to once again dive out of the way at the last second. She soon found herself surrounded by the other cultists. Charlie was surrounded too.
"You may have fooled your way past my barrier with that cheap disguise," mused Damien, "but neither of you are any match for me."
Damien's eyes widened as he caught sight of Zari's totem. He held up a hand and the cultists stood down. He approached her and eyed the totem more closely.
"The Air Totem," he realized, smiling widely, "There may be a chance to accomplish my plans after all. How kind of you to deliver it."
"This thing can summon Mallus?" wondered Zari aloud, looking at her brother's totem.
"The storm ritual was something of a stand-in," explained Damien, "but with the Air Totem of Isis I can connect to the heavens themselves. Now hand it over!"
Zari clutched her totem in one hand and went to release another burst of wind, but Damien pinned her to the ground with his own dark magic before she could. Charlie went to interfere, but several cultists cut zyr off. Damien prepared to finish Zari off.
"Thrri!" cried out Ray.
John's voice echoed into the room in the form of a Sanskrit incantation. There was a rush of air through the room as the barriers fell with a deafening crack! Damien turned to see the blonde man in a trenchcoat approaching them. Damien took note of the black idol in his hand.
"You took the idol!?" yelled Damien, "That should have killed you! What kind of idiot lets that amount of dark magic directly into their soul!?"
"A dead man, that's who," growled John, thrusting his arm out as the idol in his hand glowed.
The idol released a pulse of golden light. Damien went to block it, but was instead blasted away and left groaning on the floor with a faint golden glow. He rose to his feet, eyes filled with fury.
"Stings, doesn't it?" said John confidently, "Bet you're wishing you hadn't pissed this deity off, eh?"
Damien gritted his teeth. It was true. He had only kept control over Acala's idol through an immense amount of corruption. If John had truly absorbed that corruption into his own body, the righteous power of Acala was Damien's enemy.
Zari used the distraction to blast away the cultists surrounding her and run over to help Charlie. Damien went to stop them but John held up the idol again and Damien was forced to his knees by the pain. Ray smiled in spite of his situation, looking back and forth between his friends.
"This is over, Damien," asserted John, standing over his opponent, "Time to give- Hurk!"
John doubled over, eyes bulging in pain. His grip softened for a moment and the idol fell to the floor. Damien felt the pain over him fade. He smiled as he realized what was happening. He thrust out a hand and threw John across the room in one motion and knocked the idol away with the other. He took a deep breath, smiled in the satisfaction that he was back in control, got to his feet, and straightened his tie.
"That corruption is finally getting to you, huh?"
John grunted, writhing on the floor. His eyes flashed between a bloody red and a black nothingness. His veins began to pulse a deep purple as the evil magic swelled within his soul and manifested into his physical body.
"Thnn!" cried out Ray.
"Sorry, Johnny," said Damien as he stood beside John, forming a fireball in his hand, "but maybe you shouldn't mess with magic you can't handle."
"I could say the same for you!" called out Zari.
Everyone turned to look at Zari and Charlie, who had successfully defeated the cultists. Zari held up her totem, whereupon the ruby began to glow red as wind swelled up all around them, whipping up more and more of a storm in the room.
Damien raised an eyebrow in confusion. Then he gasped. He realized what was happening. He went to stop them but it was too late. The massive clock face above him shattered to reveal a swirl of green and black fog. Two massive black reptilian arms clawed their way in, bringing in the monstrous head that could belong to none other than a being beyond human conception of time and space.
"DAMIEN DARHK…" it uttered, "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? WHO ARE THESE MORTALS?"
Before Damien could respond, Zari lowered her totem. It ceased to glow and the air abruptly halted movement. Mallus let out a deafening roar of pain as the swirl of green and black sped up and began dragging him away. His glowing red eyes fixated on Damien, who looked up fearfully.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" cried Mallus.
"Mallus!" pleaded Damien, "No! It's not my fault! These losers-!"
Mallus let out another horrifying screech of a roar as the fog began to grab onto his body and drag him back. Mallus reached a claw out to Damien, clutching onto him as he begged for his life before both were completely consumed by the fog and the shattered panes of the clock face magically returned to their place, returning the clocktower to its original state.
Zari rushed over to Ray as Charlie rushed over to John. The chains holding down Ray shattered with Damien's defeat, fading into nothing as Ray let out a gasp of relief. He then turned bright red and quickly rose to a cross legged position and covered his penis.
"Here," offered Zari, handing Ray the cultist robe she had been using.
"Thanks," said Ray meekly, pulling the cloak over his shoulders, "What's going on with John?"
Zari shook her head and shrugged. They both rushed over to see Charlie examining John, who was still writing in pain and fighting off the evil forces flowing in through his body.
"His body is trying to fight it," noted Charlie, "but I don't know if he'll make it…"
Ray looked fearfully at John, not wanting to imagine the excruciating pain he was going through.
John continued to convulse and withhold cries of pain as the three rushed him to the Waverider as quickly as they could.
John Constantine
1945-1987
The simple grave hardly did John justice. There had been no funeral, no wake, and not even a burial. The grave was marked with only a small headstone. John would've made a snarky comment about it, but in a strange way it's also how he would have wanted it.
Chas sniffed quietly as he stood over his best friend's grave. John had sacrificed himself to Neron during their final adventure together. Chas had given himself up first to save innocent lives, but John wouldn't have it. He had forced Neron to take him in Chas's place. Chas had even tried to go to Hell and save John using the limited magic John had taught him, but that too had failed in a miserable and nightmarish fashion.
"I'm so sorry John…" whispered Chas, "It's all my fault…"
"Aw, Chas. Don't say that. You'll make me feel guilty."
Chas's eyes snapped open, flinging away droplets of tears. He spun around to see none other than John Constantine himself standing a few feet behind him.
"John!" gasped Chas.
Chas rushed over to John and immediately grabbed his shoulders, firmly squeezing them to assure him that he was real before embracing him in a hug. John faltered for a moment, but then gently rested his arms around Chas as well.
"What's going on?" asked Chas quietly, stepping back to see John better, "Did you escape from Hell?"
"In a sense," said John, "Cheated death, as it were. I'm with some folks calling themselves the Legends now. Time travelers."
"Time trav- I guess that's about par for the course for you," smiled Chas.
"I suppose so," nodded John, "Still, according to history I died that day, so keep all this under your hat, yeah? Keeps things cleaner for me."
"Sure," said Chas, "but… does that mean this is it? You're… gone?"
"Ah, don't be like that," dismissed John, "I'll be around. I'm here now, aren't I?"
"I suppose so," nodded Chas, "Care for a drink? I'm buying."
"No thanks," said John, "I should be going. I just wanted to stop by to tell you that you did the right thing, Chas. You're a good man."
"So are you, John."
John scoffed.
"I mean it!"
"That's not true," said John, suddenly less jovial, "and you and I both know why."
"...I won't fight you on it," said Chas, "I'm just happy to see you're okay."
"Cheers," smiled John, waving as he turned and walked off.
John made his way through the modest cemetery and past the gravedigger's house, behind which was a shimmer that indicated the Waverider was waiting for him cloaked. Ray was waiting for John, leaning against the house.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"Fine," said John uncomfortably, "Thanks. Can we go now?"
"Sure," nodded Ray, clicking a button to reveal the Waverider and lower the back hatch.
John's body had successfully fought off the corruption. It had been an unpleasant day, filled with nauseating pain and overwhelming misery, but he had come out the other side. Ray had been there waiting for him, assisting Gideon in his recovery like he had the last time.
"You know there isn't actually anything wrong with returning to your time," explained Ray as they walked down the halls, "There are infinite timelines. An extra one where you don't disappear isn't going to hurt anyone."
John paused for a moment. He thought through any number of explanations or excuses he could make. After considering a dozen ideas, he finally settled on the truth.
"What can I say?" he said, beginning to smile, "I'm growing fond of you lot."
Ray's face broke out into an enormous grin. John rolled his eyes.
"...what?" asked Ray.
"I think you know," sighed John with a smirk as he walked past Ray out of the loading bay.
"...but," said a confused Ray after a moment alone, "...I don't."