Mary opened her eyes. She was laying on the bed, naked, and sprawled on her back, a position that she never slept in. Oh, she thought, blushing in the darkness. Now she remembered why.

Constantine had come home a few hours before, earlier than Mary had anticipated. "Oh, hi, John," she had said, smiling at him warmly. She was at the stove, cooking…something, she couldn't remember what, but she what she did remember was how Constantine had simply strode up to her, turned the stove off, grabbed her, and kissed her with as much gusto as he could manage.

Needless to say, it was a lot.

It had all progressed from there. Clothes were thrown off, load moans and groans were could be heard from an open window neither had thought to close, and when they were finished, they simply repeated the process.

Mary bit her lip, her cheeks burning from the memory of all Constantine had done to her. She reached out her hand to touch him, but was met with cold bed sheets. Listening closely, she heard noises coming from the kitchen.

She swung her legs of the bed, flinching at the unexpected soreness emitting from her inner most parts. Well, she thought, he was very enthusiastic. She smiled. Hmmm, what a birthday.

Mary found Constantine's wrinkled shirt lying on the floor and put it on, buttoning the small buttons as she walked, or rather limped, into the kitchen. There she found her husband, sitting at the table in his boxers, reading a large, dusty book.

"Hey," she said softly, causing his head to snap up.

"Hey," Constantine responded, watching her come closer to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, running her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, loving her fingertips against his skull.

"Just researching something," he admitted, pulling her into his lap.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah," Constantine said. "There's just something bothering me about Isaac's death. I don't know what, but I think it may have something to do with Jezebel, or a jezebel. I don't know."

"Jezebel?" Mary repeated. He nodded.

"Father Isaac wrote that name down before he died. It might have something to do with his murder."

Mary bit her lip and rubbed his head comfortingly. "Well, have you found anything?"

"Maybe," Constantine said, his eyes closed. "There's something in here about a demon named Jezebel. It doesn't say much, though, just the usual. Can bring forth death, destruction, et cetera."

"You'll figure it out," Mary said, comfortingly. "You always do."

"Yeah," he said absently, running his hand up through her shirt, caressing her back. Mary shivered.

"I'll figure it out later," he said huskily. His hand crept to her chest. Mary gasped when his warm hand closed over her breast. Constantine used his other hand to unbutton her shirt and, when it was tossed to the side, forgotten, he rested his forehead in the valley between her breasts.

"I love you," he said quietly. Mary's heart melted. She knew that as of late her husband had been stressed out. He tried to hide it from her, but after being married for over a year, she knew him fairly well, and it warmed her heart knowing that he tried to protect her as much as possible, even though she wished he wouldn't.

"I love you," Mary said, her mouth against his hair, "more than I can ever say." Constantine raised his head, smiling at her with that sweet smile of his that he saved only for her. He pressed his lips against her own as he stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He took her to the bedroom, and things went on from there…

(0)

Constantine sipped from his drink, idly gazing at faces as he sat at the bar of a local club. His eyes roamed the crowd, his mind drifting, while he waited. It wasn't long before Caleb showed up.

"John," Caleb greeted. Constantine gulped his drink.

"Caleb," he said neutrally. He looked the angel up and down. "Bit dressed up, are we?"

Caleb shrugged, idly brushing off his black suit, a sharp contrast to his bright features. "You're not the only human I talk to, John," he said. "I have plans."

"Yeah," Constantine said uninterestingly. "So, talk, I'm listening."

"Fair enough," he reasoned. "I trust you know of Father Isaac's death?" Constantine nodded. "I'm afraid it might have been a demon that killed him, and not just any demon, mind you. Her name is—"

"Jezebel," Constantine finished for him. He smirked at Caleb's slightly shocked expression.

"Very good, John," Caleb praised. "I can't say that I'm impressed; I've always known you had a great amount of potential, but I'm surprised you used your skills to find her already."

"Her name was written down on a piece of paper at Isaac's house," Constantine explained. "Don't get your hopes up, Caleb; I'm still the same."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "I beg to differ, John. With Mary, you've changed a great deal." He smiled brightly. "You just don't realize it."

Constantine rolled his eyes, annoyed. "My wife," he reminded, his teeth clenched, "stays out of my work. Understood?"

The angel smirked. "Alright," he humored. "Let me see, where was I?"

"Jezebel."

"Ah, yes, Jezebel," Caleb said, his cheery mood drastically changing to a more serious one, "is quite frightening. She is evil, John, pure evil. Not much else in known of her other than that."

"She have a fling with good ol' Satan or something?" he asked lightly.

"This is not to be taken lightly," Caleb reminded.

"So what the hell does she want?" Constantine asked.

His bright face frowned. "That I am unaware of, John, but I do believe it won't be pretty. I feel there is a great darkness about to fall upon you, and I fear you may not find a way out of it."

"I'll be fine," Constantine said tensely. "Now, if you have nothing else to tell me, I'll be on my way." He threw a few bills on the counter and turned to leave.

"If not for yourself," Caleb cried out to Constantine's turned back. "Be careful for Mary's sake." Constantine paused momentarily before continuing on his way. Caleb sighed.

"I fear for you, John," he said to no one in particular.

Outside, Constantine leaned against the bar's outside wall, breathing deeply. In and out, he told himself. In and out, repeat process. His hands fumbled in his pockets until he found what he was looking for, a pack of gum. He slipped a piece in his mouth, sighing wearily as he chewed, and took something else out of his pocket. It was the necklace Midnite had given him; the antique-looking cross intended for Mary.

Constantine hadn't forgotten it; he just hadn't given it to her yet. As the cross lay in his palm, warming his hand with its slight heat, he studied it. It was something else, beautiful, and it didn't seem to be dangerous or harmful to Mary if she wore it. Besides, it came from Midnite, and with all his spewing bullshit about the Balance, he wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone.

And he knows I'd fucking kill him if he did anything to hurt her, Constantine thought. He stared at it for a moment longer before dropping it in his pocket, and he began walking home.