Thank you for you reviews and thoughts and comment and funny little emoticons. More are always wanted and well cared for.

As ALWAYS I own nothing... Well I did just buy a killer new pair of shoes. SQUEE!

BUT ANYWAY!

I figure I've been kinda leaving dear John outta this thus far.

At least for the most part.

So this is a bit of tall dark and moody for you.

---Thanks again Valkyrie-Alex.(Go read her Stuff!)

Zeta.

Constantine was pissed. No, that was far to mild of a word for it. Supremely fucking pissed would be a far better description. He glared at the security guard sitting behind the desk and the man, despite his large size, withered under Constantine's dark gaze.

"So let me get this straight," the raven-haired man said, itching for a cigarette. "Your were just sitting here on your fat ass! And the next thing you know, the body is gone?"

"Ye... yes Sir." The man wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of his hand. "I was doing my rounds, and the body was gone," he fudged a little on the truth.

Constantine looked at him, hands in fists so tight they threatened to draw blood. Turning sharply from the desk, he stalked into the cooler. He looked around, trying to get a feel for anything that wasn't quite right. Looking at the empty body bag, he let his finger tips touch the torn edge of the plastic. He might not have been a trained detective, but even he could tell the bag had been torn open from the inside.

"What the fuck?"

Looking around, he could see some of the tables were out of alightment form the others, as though they had been pushed or leaned on. Eyebrows knitted, he looked to the entrance again, and quickly walked out. The man behind the desk looked as if he was starting to doze again. Walking behind the desk, he snatched the man up by the collar of his shirt.

"You, get me the surveillance tapes of this area now," he ground out, then let the man fall back into his seat. The man tried to stutter out an excuse for a moment, before Constantine gave him another glare. "I said... now, asshole." The man gave a shaky nod and started gathering the digital files.

Constantine stepped, his nearly black eyes surveyed the street, still trying to get a feel for something. Twenty-four hours ago, he would have lit up a cigarette, but then twenty-four hours ago he didn't have a set of cancer free lungs and a new lease on life. Taking out his pack of gum, he smacked in his hand out of habit before putting a stick in his mouth. Chewing angrily, he didn't pick up a damn thing from the street, not from heaven or hell. His attention was drawn back inside when he heard the security guards shaking voice.

"Hh... here you go sir," he said handing him the small blue disc. "You can w..watch it in the other r...room if.. if you want." Snatching the disc away, Constantine looked at it and nodded. He walked into to the room he had been directed to. Taking a moment to adjust the tracking, he hit 'play' and leaned on the small TV with one arm, watching intently.

The time ran normally at the bottom of the screen as the black and white image started its stream. Then it happened. The light in the room got brighter for a moment, and then returned to normal. Constantine felt the hair on his arms stand on end for at second. Squinting, he jumped back from the TV when one of the body bags started moving.

"FUCK!" he said under his breath, before looking back at the screen. The bag squirmed for a moment. Then, slowly, like watching a drowning man come to the top of a river, the body bag tore open and the now apparently living corpse sat up. Watching the screen intently, he didn't notice when he took out his old lighter. Open, light, close. The body rolled over the other corpse to get to the floor. Open, light, close. The figure falling and removing the piece of plastic on the toe.

"Holy Shit..." he whispered, starring at the screen. Clutching his lighter, he continued watching the TV, when the last shot had played, the Exorcist tore from the room with the only copy of this event in his coat pocket.

"You," Constantine said, pointing to the guard, "keep your mouth shut!" He slapped three fifties on the counter. "Got it asshole?" The man nodded, and then slumped into his chair after the Demonologist left.

"What a prick..." The guard said shaken.