John woke up with a terrible headache. But he felt good despite of it. Most of the night was fuzzy, but he did remember kissing Pete. Sure, she'd run back to her little boyfriend, but John knew it was only a matter of time until that little union went bust. Especially with him there to speed things along.

John felt almost giddy as he took out a bottle of whiskey for a little hair of the dog. The knowledge that Pete hadn't just abandoned him to Ravenscar after all was the best thing he'd ever heard. And the way that she'd been acting the night before let him know that she still wanted him. And wanted him bad at that. If he stuck around, he could have her in no time. Hell, if things went well, they could be heading back to London together by nightfall.

John smiled to himself. Yes, that was what he wanted. He'd been bleedin' lonely lately, and Pete would definitely fix that. And if the only obstacle in his way was a skinny little boy, it wouldn't even be a challenge.

John made himself look as presentable as he ever looked, then left his room to see if he could find some breakfast.

xxx xxx xxx

"Good morning, Mr. Constantine," Brian said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Mornin'," John replied, his mouth full of food.

Brian made a pitiful attempt to hide his disgust. "The Midnight Runner's ready whenever you're ready to go back to London. Just let me know and I'll fly you back."

"Oh I'm not going back today," John said, waving his hand.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "And when are you goin' back."

"Not sure. I'll let you know." John finished his breakfast and got up from the table. "See you around, Cap'n."

Brian called after him, but he was already gone. Pete walked into the room, and Brian grabbed her arm. "Wisdom, you have to talk to your friend."

"Wot friend?" Pete asked, confused.

"Constantine."

"He's still 'ere?"

"Yes. And apparently he's not leaving today."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"When is 'e leavin' then?"

"Don't know that either."

"Then wot am I supposed to do about it? Clunk 'im on the 'ead an' drag 'im outta here?"

Brian sighed. "I don't know. Go talk to him or something. Find out why he isn't running for the door and then point him in that direction. One snarky Londoner running around is more than enough."

"Gee, thanks, Braddock, I love you, too," Pete said, rolling her eyes. "Fine, I'll talk to John, but I'm not makin' any promises. John can be a stubborn bastard when he wants to be."

"Whatever. Just make him leave."

Pete walked out of the kitchen, going towards John's room. Although she certainly couldn't tell Brian the truth, Pete knew exactly why John wasn't leaving—and it infuriated her. She banged hard on the door. "I know yer in 'ere, Constantine!"

John opened the door, giving her his nicest smile. "'ey there, luv."

Pete pushed past him, slamming his door. "Wot the 'ell are you pullin', John?"

John managed to look innocent and devious at the same time. "Wotever are you talkin' about?"

"Oh you know damn well what I'm talkin' about! Braddock says you're not leaving."

"So? I've decided the Scottish air is good for me constitution."

"Sod yer constitution. Yer here for me, and I don't like it."

"Oh aren't we the self-absorbed one."

"Stop being a wanker."

"Fine, you want me to leave? Go pack your bags, luv, an' we'll leave right now."

"Wot! John, I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Why not? We make a good pair, y'know."

"We do not!'

John moved in on her, pushing her against the wall and effectively pinning her there with an arm on either side of her. "No? Then explain last night."

Pete blanched. "That was the alcohol, John! Nothing more!"

"Oh? You seemed to be pretty 'ot 'fore you flew outta 'ere the way you did. C'mon, luv. You know I can fuck you better than that tosser Pryde ever dreamed of doing."

Pete reached up and slapped him hard across the face. John stumbled back and Pete got away from the wall. "Leave Muir, Constantine," Pete snapped. "I don't want you 'ere." She left the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

John rubbed his sore cheek and sighed. Maybe this would be a bit more difficult than he'd originally thought.

xxx xxx xxx

Inside the collapsed tunnels under the city of London, something was stirring.  It started as a low vibration through the fallen brick and mortar, growing louder and louder until an explosion ripped forth and Belasco stood from under his prison of rock. 

He surveyed the carnage left behind by Excalibur and smiled.  They had left him plenty of bodies for what he had in mind. 

Belasco realized he had been fortunate that the man Constantine cared too much about his own skin to make sure the gateway was really closed.  Of course, Belasco had helped the illusion along by faking a rather spectacular death.  It had been painful to cross back through the doorway and out again, and for that Belasco was going to make sure that all of the parties responsible paid, starting with John Constantine and that woman who had helped him.   

Belasco yanked a dead body--half of one, anyway--from under a chunk of masonry and dropped it in the middle of what had once been the summoning circle for him.  He sighed as he steeled himself for the ordeal ahead.  He had been the ruler of Limbo long enough to make the aquaintance of some truly fearsome creatures of Hell--and from them he knew exactly what to do to make sure John Constantine paid the price for what he had done in full.  Plus, it would be a nice bonus for when he delt with the rest of Excalibur.

Belasco focused on the body, making the blood from the cauterized wounds flow again, filling the circle with the dark red sheen of dead man's blood.  Without tools, without aides, this would be the most difficult ritual he had ever accomplished.  But Belasco's need for vengeance was stronger than the fear of the pain this would surely cause.  He began his chant, in the ancient tongues that no human could speak or understand.  "Hail Nergal, King of Rage..."

xxx xxx xxx

John was rather enjoying himself on Muir Island.  No rent to worry about, plenty of food, and Pete.  Well, whenever she stopped pretending she was mad at him.  At least John had almost convinced himself she was just playing hard to get, and would show up at his door with her bags packed any minute.

There was a knock.  "Speak of the devil," John muttered.  He opened it, expecting to find Pete, or maybe the Braddock wanker again. 

It was Kit.  "We need to have a chat, Mr. Constantine," he said.  John smirked. 

"Do we now?  Wot about?"  Kit stepped into the room and shut the door.

"You know damn well what about."  John crossed his arms. 

"If it's about you being a git, I'm sorry mate, but there's no known cure for that."  Kit's eyes narrowed. 

"You stay the Hell away from Pete.  I'm only going to tell you nicely once."  John tried unsuccessfully to keep from laughing at Kit's attempt to be intimidating. 

"An' if I don't?"  Kit took a step towards him. 

"Then things are going to get ugly."  John abruptly stopped laughing and advanced on Kit, until he was nose-to-nose with the shorter man. 

"Listen up, son, an' listen well.  The only reason I 'aven't convinced you to do the world a favor and remove yerself from the gene pool is because Pete still has some daft notion that she's in love with you.  You're not good enough for 'er, and if you hurt her, then 'eaven help you, because there won't be a corner of this bloody world where you can hide from me."  Kit swallowed. 

"Y-you have no business threatening me.  I'll tell Moira..." 

"Go tattle to the good doctor, then, an' leave me in peace," said John.  He opened his door.  "Don't let it hit yer arse on th' way out."  Kit crossed his arms.

"I'm not letting you have Pete."

"Good.  Always did enjoy a challenge, mate.  Ta."  John shut the door in Kit's face and smiled to himself.  This was going to be fun.

xxx xxx xxx

"Tell me again, Belasco, why I've agreed to throw in with an imbecile like yourself."  Belasco swallowed and looked at the figure before him.  In Limbo, Nergal hadn't seemed out of place, but on Earth he was terrifying. 

"Because I have given you a chance for what you desire most," he said, forcing his voice to be strong and regal.  He was the King of Limbo, after all, and Nergal was just Satan's flunky. 

"And how, exactly, do you know what I desire?" 

"It's common knowledge," said Belasco.  "How you fought the man Constantine seven human years ago and how he--"  Nergal's eyes glowed.

"Stop there, Belasco, if you value your body and your sanity."  Belasco took in a deep breath. 

"Shall we go some place more hospitable?"  Nergal looked around the tunnel, which was now devoid of bodies, except for a few bones and scattered limbs. 

"You brought me back, and gave me a fine meal.  For that reason, and only that, I will listen to what you have to say."  Belasco let the air out of his lungs.  The hardest part was over. 

"Very well."  He turned himself to a normal-looking man, and Nergal did the same.  "Come with me." 

Walking the streets of London, Nergal took in a deep breath, almost as if he were sniffing out prey.  "It's been too long, it has." 

"Well, work with me and you can live here if you like," said Belasco.  "In here."  They turned into a pub that Nergal could sense was frequented by magicians.  Like Constantine.  The fucking bastard...

"Now," said Belasco, settling himself in a dark booth in the back, "here is my plan.  We lure Excalibur to their deaths, and with them and Constantine out of the way, we can systematically destroy this island and spread like a plague."

"Sounds so simple," said Nergal, casting a smile at the barmaid.  "And yet, I detect a note of the desperate rantings of a petty tyrant who has no idea what he's doing."  Belasco slammed his fist on the table.

"Do no disrespect me, demon.  I am the ruler of all Limbo.  I could crush you."  Nergal motioned the girl over and ordered a pint. 

"Of course, Belasco.  Of course you could.  So we will implement your plan, but I have one condition--leave Constantine to me."  Belasco nodded.

"I have no interest in a petty mage."  Nergal smiled thinly as he drained his pint.

"Petty.  Yes.  Very."  He swept his glass to the floor, shattering it.  The barmaid ran over.

"Best let me get that sir, don't want to be 'urting yourself."  Nergal touched her head with one hand.

"No, my dear, I don't.  But you, on the other hand..."  The reached down obediently and took a large shard of glass from the pile, methodically slicing across both of her wrists. 

"Let it be known," she said in a dull, robotic voice as Nergal's lips moved.  "The human race is not long for this world."  She walked slowly through the pub, blood dribbling down her hands as the patrons either ran forward to help her or scrambled out of the way.  Nergal turned to Belasco.

"You wanted to send a message to Excalibur?"  Belasco nodded dumbly, having no idea what was going on.  Nergal stood.  "Consider it sent."  In the subsequent explosion and death of the nearly thirty patrons in the pub, no one noticed the two men leaving the scene, and the fact that as soon as they were out of the firelight, they both vanished into thin air.     

xxx xxx xxx

"Good morning, luv."

Pete froze, feeling John's body press up against her, his breath on her neck. "John, get off me this instant."

"Why, luv? We were both late gettin' down to breakfast. Bet no one would come in if we just…"

Pete turned around, pushing John forcibly away from her. "Look Constantine, get it through that think skull of yours—I'm not bloody interested."

"How can you not be interested? After shaggin' that Pryde bloke, I'd think you'd want a real man for a while."

"Let me know when you find one."

"How bloody original."

"Look, either eat breakfast or go away. I'm not in the mood for you, Constantine."

"Fine," John said, helping himself to the leftovers from what Excalibur had eaten earlier. He sat down at the table, watching Pete as she fixed her own plate. She sat the plate on the table across from John, then went back to the counter, pouring two cups of coffee. She handed one to John with a smile.

"Coffee?"

John took the cup from her and took a sip. He spit it back into the mug immediately. "Bloody 'ell, Wisdom, are you trying to poison me?" Pete just smirked.

"Gave him Moira's coffee, I see," Brian said, walking into the kitchen.

"Figures that woman would've made that vile stuff," John muttered, poking at his egg with a fork.

Brian leaned back against the counters, regarding John for a moment. "Constantine, no offense, but we defeated Belasco almost a week ago. Why are you still here?"

John looked up at him. "I'm not here," John said calmly. "I left already."

Brian blinked, then looked over at Pete. "So, when did your friend leave?"

Pete threw down her napkin, getting up from the table. "I can't take this anymore, Constantine," she snapped, storming out of the kitchen.

"Aw, c'mon, luv, I was only having a bit of fun with the Captain!" John yelled after her. He sighed, going back to his breakfast. "Bloody woman."

xxx xxx xxx

Pete spent the next of the morning avoiding John. She didn't like the way she felt around him. It was if she always had to be alert for his next move, but never quite able to stay on her toes enough to keep up with him. She felt off balance.

"Och, there you are."

"I'm not in the mood for any of your freaky tests, Moira," Pete said, not glancing up.

"It's not that, Wisdom. It's Kit."

Pete did look up then, her eyes full of worry. "Kit? Is 'e all right? He's not hurt, is 'e?"

"No…well, physically at least…"

"What's going on MacTaggart?"

"Well, he's stolen me nightgown an' he's wearing it while dancing down the halls singing 'I Feel Pretty.'"

Pete dropped her head into her hands. "John Constantine, I will bleedin' kill you," she muttered. She stood up. "Thank you, Moira. I'll handle it."

"If you can help me get him into the lab, I can…"

"No need for that. I can take care of it just fine."

"But…"

"I've got it, Moira," Pete said, walking out of the room. She stormed down to John's room, beating on his door.

John opened it with a smile on his face that made Pete want to slap him. "Come for a shag?"

"No, you bleedin' wanker, I've come to tell you to take the soddin' mind whammy off me boyfriend."

"Mind whammy? Wot are you talking about, you crazy bird?"

"You know, that bloody Jedi mind trick knock-off you do."

"Luv, in case you 'aven't noticed, I'm not Luke Skywalker."

"Stop bein' daft, John. Moira says Kit's dancing around in her night clobber, an' I know you 'ad somethin' to do with it."

"You know, luv, your little boyfriend might jus' finally be showin' his true colors. Any of your knickers gone missin' lately?"

"Constantine…"

"Look, I didn't do a damn thing to Kit, so…"

Pete grabbed John by the collar, pushing him against the wall with her hot knives in his face. "I'm not playin' around 'ere, John."

John sighed. "Fine, where is 'e?"

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and gay. And I pity any girl who isn't me today."

John shook himself off as Pete let him go. "Well, I guess that answers me question."

John and Pete followed the sound of singing down the hall. John stifled a laugh at the sight. "Never pegged Moira for havin' anything that frilly."

Pete bit her lip. As much as she hated to admit it, it was an amusing sight. Kit did a pirouette.

"Who's that pretty girl in that mirror there? Who can that attractive girl be? Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty me!"

"Want me to see if he knows anything from Cabaret?"

"Make him stop, John."

"You are no fun these days, Wisdom." He walked up to Kit taking him by the shoulders. "You are not Maria. You no longer want to wear Moira's nightgown or dance around an' sing. Instead, you want to flee the room in complete and total embarrassment and stay locked in your room for at least a good two or three hours."

Kit blinked, looking at John, Pete, then himself in complete and total horror. He ran from the room.

"John!"

"Hey, you said make him stop dancing. I did that."

"You are such a wanker."

"You know, your boyfriend's going to be busy for the next few hours. Why don't we…"

Pete gave him a look that would scare some of the demons he had met. She stormed out of the room.

John pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. "Bugger."

xxx xxx xxx

"John, we have to talk."

John sighed. "Again, Kit? I've already heard your whiny little voice to last me a bloody lifetime."

"What did you think that little stunt you pulled earlier was going to accomplish?"

"Dunno. Jus' felt like doin' it for a lark. You looked bloody hilarious in Moira's little frilly nightgown."

"I don't care what you do to me, Constantine, you are not getting Pete."

"Oh yes I am. I'm gonna get 'er, and then I'm gonna shag 'er. A lot."

"Pete is mine. Not yours. Mine."

"Oh you are such a baby." John smirked. "I don't know why Pete even bothers with you. You can't possibly be satisfying."

Kit narrowed his eyes. "I have no problem in that area, Constantine."

"Tell yourself wot you 'ave to, mate. I'm still gonna get her in the end."

Kit had had enough of this man. He pulled back, his fist balled. John caught the punch in midair, twisting Kit's arm around. Kit stared up, too surprised to phase.

"Now you listen 'ere you fuckin' piece o' shit, you don't mess with me. I can kill you, and I wouldn't mind doing it one bit. Pete is out of your league. Go find a nice little thing to play your Dungeons and Dragons with, and leave the real women to the real men."

"You…you can't have her…" Kit said, his voice trembling.

John grinned psychotically. "I can make your nightmares come true, y'know. I know a few demons that would love a new chew toy…"

"I…"

"John, If you don't get your bleedin' hands off me boyfriend, I will kill you. Slowly."

John blinked. "Pete! When did you get in here?" He let Kit go.

Pete walked up to John, shoving a finger in his face. "I'm going to get one thing straight right now, John Constantine. I don't want you. As a matter of fact, I don't even like you. I think you are a pathetic, disgusting excuse for a human being. I am sick of your shite, an' I want you off this Island by morning or I will personally rip off yer bullocks and feed them to something 'orrible. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," John snapped.

"Good." Pete turned to Kit, giving him a long, deep kiss. "Come on, luv. Let's go back to our room."

John glared as he watched them walk out of the room. If that was what Wisdom wanted, fine. She wasn't the same woman he remembered anyway. At least he could take comfort in the fact that she'd end up miserable with the Pryde blighter. She wanted him off Muir Island, then fine. He'd go. Her loss.

"Herr Constantine?"

"WOT?!" John snapped, turning around to give Nightcrawler a menacing look.

Kurt stumbled back. "There is…a phone call for you." He pointed to a phone on a table near John.

John sighed, wondering who in the world could have tracked him there. He picked up the phone. "Constantine."

Kurt watched all the color drain from John's face. The blond man said only a few words to the person on the other end of the line before hanging up. "Vhat vas that?" Nightcrawler asked.

John ran a trembling hand through his hair. "Belasco ain't dead, mate," he said. "He jus' 'it a pub last night, killed everyone in it."

Nightcrawler's eyes grew wide. "But vhy vould he destroy a pub?"

"It was a message," John said. "A lot of me mates would go there."

"I am sorry…" Nightcrawler said.

"Yeah, wotever. Look, I need to get to that pub. Wot's left of it, at least."

"Ve vill go vith you."

"No need for that."

"Yes, there is. If Belasco is involved, so is Excalibur."

John sighed heavily. "Fine. Jus' be quick about it."

xxx xxx xxx

"I don't like this place one bit," Meggan said, moving closer to Brian.

"There's been a lot of death here, that's for sure," Amanda said. "It feels really, cold…"

John looked around, frowning. Something about this being the work of Belasco didn't ring true for him. He didn't doubt that he'd been there—John could still feel residual traces of his presence. But there was something else, too. Something worse.

"John!"

John snapped to attention at the sound of Pete calling for him. He went over to her, where she was standing beside the only wall still standing. John paled at what he saw written there. Large, bloody letters spelled out the message: "John Constantine, I have returned for you."

"Oh bloody 'ell," John said softly.

"Do you know who wrote it, John?"

John nodded slowly.

"Who?"

John met her eyes. "Nergal."

xxx xxx xxx

"I don't understand," said Kit.  "Who's Nergal?" 

"A demon," said Pete.  "A big, nasty demon with a taste for human flesh."  Excalibur was sitting in a booth in one of the better restaurants in London, Brian having gotten them all in for lunch. 

"So how exactly do we get rid of this Nergal?" said Amanda.  Everyone turned to John, who fidgeted a bit in his chair.

"Well don't look at me, luv."  Kit sighed.

"You're all missing the point—that we wouldn't be in this situation if the expert over here had done his job."  There were mumbles of agreement from the other members of the team. 

"'ey, lay off," said Pete.  "'e did the best he could, under the circumstances."  Kit turned on her.

"Why are you defending him?!" he demanded.  "This is all his fault!  For God's sake, Pete."  Pete grew silent, poking at her lunch with her fork.  Kit was right—if John hadn't been so concerned with getting out of the tunnel, Belasco would have been sealed back in Limbo.  Why was she defending him?  He was a selfish bastard who had caused her nothing but trouble.  Pete looked up to meet John's eyes across the table.  He shot her a quick smile before looking away, and Pete sighed.  Maybe it would be easier to hate him if he wasn't so cute. 

"Arguing about personal problems is not going to help us," Kurt said sternly, making sure to look at both Kit and John.  "Vhat ve need now is a plan." 

"Belasco will be weak," said John.  "Summoning a demon as powerful as Nergal is 'ard even for someone like 'im.  If you weaken a denizen of Limbo enough, 'e won't be able to hold a corporeal form." 

"Come again?" said Kit patronizingly.  "In English this time, perhaps?  I thought your country gave birth to the language…"

"'urt Belasco enough an' he goes 'poof'," said John.  "Is that simple enough for you kiddies?" 

"It's decided, zhen," said Kurt.  "Ve go after Belasco, and zhen we find and destroy zhe other one—Nergal."  John's expression became shielded, and he stood up from the table. 

"Where are you going?" demanded Kit. 

"T'the little boy's room, mate.  Wot's the matter—you want to join me?"  Kit shot John a glare, which John smirked at and walked away from the group.  Pete stood up. 

"Where are you going?" said Kit.  Pete looked down at him. 

"Does it matter, luv?"  Kit frowned at her.

"Yes Pete, it does matter.  I've had just about enough of your strange behavior.  Either you start letting me in on what's going on in your little head or we need to have a serious talk."  Pete felt the color rise in her cheeks as she realized that Kit was scolding her like a naughty child in front of the rest of Excalibur.  Suddenly, the events of the past week became too much for her. 

"Excuse me," she muttered, practically running out of the dining room.  In the hallway to the loos, she leaned against the wall and pressed her hands over her face, willing the tears not to come.  She wasn't a person who cried, hadn't been since she was a child.  If only John hadn't come back, hadn't stirred up all of her old feelings…

"You know I can't stand to see a pretty woman cry, luv."  Pete sniffled and looked up.

"Go 'way, Constantine."  John produced a handkerchief from his coat pocket and held it out silently.  Pete took it and dabbed at her eyes, her eyeliner leaving black streaks.  "I've ruined it."  John shrugged.

"'ad worse than that smeared on it."  He tucked the handkerchief away.  "You alright?" 

"No, John, I'm not alright," said Pete.  "You're ruining me life.  Kit's mad at me an' it's your fault."  John fought the urge to nail Kit to a wall and let imps feed on his liver.  Somehow he thought that wouldn't endear him to Pete. 

"Y'know, Pete, you're not goin' to find redemption in 'is arms," said John.  "Point of fact, redemption's overrated.  Take it from me."  Pete rubbed her temples.

"After we kill Belasco, John, I want you t'leave.  I don't want to see you again.  Ever."  John looked down at her, touching her cheek lightly with one hand.  His fingers were rough and made her skin prickle.

"You really mean that, luv?"  Pete met his eyes. 

"Yes.  I do."  She expected a smirk and a witty retort, but John just dropped his hand to his side and looked away.

"Alright then.  I'm goin' back to the table before the Braddock wanker leaves me with th' check."  He turned and started to walk, his shoulders hunched.  Pete spoke before she could stop herself.

"John."  He looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Nergal…are we going to be able to kill 'im?" 

"Doubt it," said John.  "You don't kill what Nergal is, not in the 'uman sense of life an' death, anyway." 

"Then how did you do it before?" Pete asked.  "'ow did you survive the club?"  John laughed once, rather bitterly.

"Tricked him, luv.  Got one over on 'im.  The same way I've done all th' other suckers in me life."  His mouth curved upwards in a crooked smile.  "But I'd reckon 'e's gotten a lot smarter since last time I saw 'im.  If we're lucky, 'e'll be long gone when we find Belasco."

"And if we're not?  Lucky, that is?" said Pete. 

"Then you'd best pray you're not conscious when 'e gets 'is hands on you, luv," said John before going back to the table.  Pete slumped against the wall again. 

"Well isn't that bloody encouraging…"

xxx xxx xxx

Belasco shifted nervously in the door of a posh room in a posh flat in a posh area of London.  "Nergal…"  Nergal looked up from what he was feasting on, which Belasco thought was the mother of the family that had until recently lived there.  He couldn't be sure, though. 

"What is it?" the larger demon demanded. 

"Excalibur…they're getting close to us."  Nergal grinned widely.

"Good."  He dropped the body and stood.  "I hate to eat and run, Belasco, but you know how it is."  He went to the pile of bones in the corner and picked out one of the smaller ones, a child's.  "Thighbone of a virgin boy.  These used to sell for a pretty penny, back in the day.  Worth their weight in gold.  Do you know what they were used for?"  He broke the bone in half, leaving a sharp, pointy end. 

"I have no idea," said Belasco, backing out of range of Nergal, who had begun to smile in a most unsettling way. 

"'uman sacrifices, mostly," said Nergal.  "But they were used for the odd exorcism as well."  Belasco's expression went dark.

"You're betraying me." 

"Finally he catches on," said Nergal.  "You really thought I'd go along with some mad scheme a demon—if you can call yourself that—from Limbo came up with?  Do you really think I'm that daft, Belasco?  And while we're on the subject—did you really thing that 'kill everyone and take over the world' was a good plan?"  Belasco bumped into a wall.  This couldn't be happening—he couldn't be outwitted by some lowly spawn of the pit like Nergal…

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you outright," said Nergal.  "I'm using you to send a message." 

"I will do nothing for you!" Belasco spat, his eyes blazing in one last spate of defiance before Nergal plunged the bone through his heart. 

"Oh, you silly sod," said Nergal, as he opened the door to the flat and left, ignoring Belasco's screams.  "You already have."

xxx xxx xxx

The tracking spell that John had cast lead Excalibur to a brick building of flats with ivy growing up the side in a very expensive part of London.  John looked up at the building and thought that the tossers inside probably deserved whatever Belasco had done to them. 

Or maybe that was just the mood he was in.  He snuck a glance at Pete.  She was holding Kit's hand loosely in her own.  John grumbled a creative curse.  He'd just have to let her go.  Obviously, she didn't want him, and John Constantine didn't spend his time chasing after women who weren't interested.  He had plenty who were.

Even to John's mental ear, that sounded like bollocks.  Excalibur climbed the stairs of the building single-file, John trailing behind them.  Pete was in front of him, and he decided to just appreciate the view of her arse while he still could.  She caught him looking and glared.  John grinned broadly.  Despite their moment outside the loos, he could tell she still thought he was a wanker.  If that was the case, so be it.  He'd act like one.

Brian opened the door to the flat, and immediately reared back.  "Oh, dear God."  Kit looked in and retreated, a hand clapped over his mouth.  John chuckled. 

"Take it easy, son, I don't think the place needs any more repaintin'." 

"Screw you," Kit mumbled, leaning against the wall.  John was a bit gratified to see that Pete ignored him to look into the flat herself.  She drew back.

"Bloody 'ell.  Come 'ere, Constantine, and take a look at this."  John poked his head into the bedroom.  The first thing he saw was Belasco nailed to the wall with a bone through his chest, his black blood pooling under him.  John realized he was standing in it.

"Oh, of all the fucking luck…"  Pete stood next to him quietly.

"What does this mean, John?"  John took out a cigarette and lit it, flicking ash at Belasco. 

"Means Nergal made our job a lot easier, luv." 

"Vhat needs to be done?" said Kurt.  "To ensure Belasco does not come back?"  John dropped his cigarette in the blood and watched it fizzle out. 

"Not much, really—don't suppose anyone 'as a dead cat handy?"  Excalibur looked at him as if he were insane.  "Never mind," he muttered.

"Make sure you do it right this time, huh?" said Kit.  John turned to him. 

"Sod off, or next time it's Moira's bra and knickers."  Kit turned on his heel and left the room.  "A little privacy, eh?" said John to the rest of the team.  They filed out, all except for Pete. 

"What about Nergal?" she said.  John shrugged.

"Obviously gone on 'is merry way.  An' trust me, luv, you want 'im gone." 

"Is he going to come back for you?" said Pete.  John smiled at her. 

"Why, luv—you worried about me?  'ow touching."  Pete's lip curled.

"As a matter of fact, I 'ope he finds you and finishes the job.  You've turned into a real fuckoff these past seven years, Constantine.  You're not the man I knew."  John crossed to her in two swift strides and grabbed her by the shoulders, feeling how small she still was as he pressed himself against her. 

"You're right, luv, I'm not.  I'm a right bloody bastard—but you know what?  I think you like it.  Sod that—I know you like your men with a dark side to 'em.  You can pretend all you want, Pete Wisdom, but you've got a bit of the devil in you, an' I've got more than that in me."  He leaned down, his cheek brushing hers as he whispered in her ear.  Pete shivered under his grip.  "So when you're ready, luv—I'll be waitin'."  He released her, noting with satisfaction that her cheeks were red and her chest was moving rapidly up and down.  "Now if you don't mind—I've got me work to do."  Pete's face lost its confused expression, and she glared angrily at him.

"Sod you, John Constantine!  You'll be waitin' for the rest of your bleedin' life!"  She stormed out, slamming the door.  John chuckled.

"Doubt that, luv."  He hummed to himself as he set about sealing Belasco back in Limbo. 

xxx xxx xxx

"Well, that's it ladies and gents. The door to Limbo is sealed. No more things that go bump in the night will come to bother you."

"Are you positive this time?" Kit asked, crossing his arms in front of him and glaring at John.

John had a hard time being intimidated by a scrawny boy several inches shorter than him. And in spandex, no less. "Yes. But if I chop up a little American blighter and spread 'is body parts around I can be extra sure. Sort of like adding a deadbolt to the door, y'know. Have any suggestions of anyone I can use?"

Kit glared, his jaw set tight. Pete put a calming hand on his arm as she shot John a look.

"Kit has reason to be concerned, Herr Constantine," Kurt said. "Last time…"

"Look, I sealed the bleedin' door, all right? Get off me back."

"What about that Nergal character?" Brian asked.

"Gone," John replied. "Probably jus' 'angin' around until 'e got the chance to get rid of Belasco. Trust me, you lot are safe now."

"So will you be going back to whatever hole it is you call home?" Kit asked.

John looked over at Pete and Kit. "Yeah. She's all yours. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic."

"Vell, then let us all get back to Muir, have a debriefing, and then I vill give Herr Constantine a ride home."

"A debriefing. Bloody wonderful," John muttered, walking behind Excalibur.

xxx xxx xxx

"So you're finally leaving?"

"Looks like it." John leaned against the Midnight Runner. "This is your last chance, Wisdom. You better shag me now before you loose it."

"John, what about Nergal?"

"Well, I tend not to go for demonic threesomes, luv, but I guess if you're into that. Might want to find someone a little more friendly than Nergal, though…"

"John, be serious. He wrote a message to you in blood on the wall of that pub. Or at least what used to be a pub. You can't honestly think he's not going to make good on that?"

"It's my trouble, Wisdom—not yours."

"John…"

John reached into his pocket, getting something out and placing it in Pete's palm, curving her slim fingers around it. She opened her hand as he pulled away, seeing a small, five-pointed star on a silver chain. "Wot's this?" Pete asked.

"It's a pentacle. One I was wearing when I met you, as a matter of fact. Anyway, wear it. For protection, an' all. Just in case."

"John, I…"

"Are you ready to go, Herr Constantine?"

John looked over Pete's head as Kurt came into the hangar. "Yeah." He looked back down at Pete. "You take care of yourself, now. And let me know when the wedding is. I'll send you those biscuits."

Pete felt her chest grow tight, and she knew this time it wasn't from her cigarettes. "You're such a sod."

John mussed her hair. "Maybe I'll see you around, Wisdom."

"Yeah, maybe, Constantine."

Pete watched as John followed Kurt onto the Runner, then turned around, going inside without letting herself look back.