Title: Sacrifices (Part Two)
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas
Rating: Strong PG-13, may go up later
Spoilers Movie: Lots.
Summary: Chas is changed for heaven's purposes, but that's one thing John won't accept. He stages his own personal war against heaven to win back the young man's spirit that he knew and loved, but everything has a price…
John knew there was only one place he could go for this kind of information: Midnite. The man was a walking encyclopedia of the supernatural, and though he could be a complete and total egotistical bastard, it was the best place to start.
Midnite had a problem with realizing that he wasn't the supreme being on Earth. A problem, as in he didn't realize it at all.
John passed the bouncer easily, and made his way into the dark bar. The sense of supernatural beings was overwhelming, clouding John's senses to everything else. He passed the demons and angels alike, feeling their eyes lock on him few a few curious moments; he hadn't been back here since the night Chas died.
With the demons, it was more than curiosity. It was resentment. He could feel it in the air, thick as fog…they hated him for escaping the Hell he so righteously deserved in their eyes.
He went straight to the back, waiting outside the door. Midnite would know he was here; how, John didn't know, and he didn't really care either. After a few moments the door swung open, and John casually walked in, sitting down across from Midnite silently.
"This is about your young apprentice," Midnite finally said. It was a statement, not a question.
"I saw him earlier," John said, his voice carefully kept emotionless. "He shot a demon four times. In the head. A little overkill, especially for an angel, don't you think?"
Midnite nodded, and paused, obviously thinking it over. "Heaven has its ways."
"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, and then he leaned forward on the table. "That wasn't Chas. I know him, and that wasn't him."
"Changes have to be made to preserve the balance."
"So they did fuck around with his head. What do you know that you aren't telling me?"
Midnite hesitated, and then he gave John a warning glance. "I won't have you waging your own personal war against heaven, John. You know what that could cost you."
"You didn't answer my question."
Midnite was silent a few moments, and then he put down his cigar and stood up. "Come with me, John. I have something to show you."
John stood up and followed Midnite into the back room. He never got used to seeing this many holy relics in one place: books, talismans, blessed jewelry, and even a few bodies of saints were stored away in this room.
Midnite went straight to the bookshelves, searching through the titles until he pulled out a large white book. He took it over to the nearest empty table and opened it up, and John watched as he leafed through the blank pages.
About halfway through, Midnite stopped and picked up a nearby vial of holy water. He dripped it on the lower right corner of the page, and the number 107 appeared.
"Five more pages," Midnite muttered to himself, flipping over the next five blank pages. Then he stopped and splashed the holy water onto the page he'd come to.
A picture appeared of an angel on a field of war, smoke and confusion around him. The angel himself was perfectly calm, intense, even a little forlorn.
"Assassin Angel."
John looked up at Midnite. "What?"
Midnite pointed at the Latin text, his finger tracing along the line. "An assassin for Heaven. They are made to kill trouble demons and only to do that. Upon death, the soul is changed for Heaven's purposes."
John's fists tightened. "So Heaven took him, fucked up his soul, made him a consciousless killer, and now they're using him to clean up demonic messes?"
"When put bluntly, yes. Sacrifices must be made for the balance, John, you know this as well as I do."
"…Not my Chas."
"John, don't do anything you'll regret…"
By the time Midnite spoke those words, John was already out the door. He walked out into the bar, found a group of angels, and within a few seconds reached out with his mind to figure out which one was in charge, the most powerful.
Then he broke into the group, grabbed that one by the lapels, and slammed him into the nearest wall.
"Chas Kramer. You know him. You know him," he demanded, shaking the surprised angel a bit.
"Yeah, yeah, the new kid. Would you put me down? Please?"
"No. Tell me where I can find him."
"I don't know! I don't-"
John grabbed the angel by the throat with an iron grip. "You'll tell me where I can find him or I'll saw your damn wings off with a hand saw."
John could vaguely hear Midnite behind him, babbling on about the rules of his house and the neutrality, but he wasn't listening. He was glaring at the angel, waiting for the angel to choke out what he wanted to hear.
"A bust…on 3rd Street. Gun store. Half hour from now."
How fitting, John thought as he dropped the angel. He turned and shoved past Midnite, heading straight for the door. Midnite could've stopped him easily, could've punished him for the show he just put on, but John knew he wouldn't. Midnite understood what that kid meant to him.
The demons and angels parted for John like the waters of the Red Sea, all of them watching him wide-eyed. They obviously weren't used to John Constantine throwing a temper tantrum in a public place.
As the cool night air hit John, he wondered what exactly he was getting himself into. He was going to be stepping into a situation with a bunch of pissed off dying demons and an angel with no qualms about slitting his throat. Maybe he was crazy.
Actually, he was pretty sure he was crazy. But if that helped him figure this out and save Chas from an eternity of this, then he'd deal with it.
