"How did you meet him?"

It was a week after Mary's father had showed up on Mary's and Constantine's doorstep, a long week when everyday Mary nervously dreaded the unavoidable meeting with Aaron. It wasn't long before he called, asking to see her, and, not wanting to have him in her home again, she agreed to meet him at a little café around the corner from where she lived. Even now, sitting with him, she regretted having ever come.

"Mary? Are you listening? How did you meet him?" Aaron repeated. Mary blinked.

"Sorry," she muttered. "John and I met under strange circumstances. This…this, um, guy was after me and John saved me. We got married after that."

"What guy?" Aaron asked. "Was he stalking you or something?"

Mary sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Something like that," she lamented. "Raphael was…odd."

"Raphael? Your mother mentioned someone named Raphael a few times before she, uh," he coughed behind his hand, "left."

Mary felt a twinge of sympathy for her father. He never knew that her mother had actually never left him, at least, not of her own will. Raphael had killed her, making it look like she abandoned her family, even though all she had wanted was to stay with them.

"Yeah," Mary said awkwardly, "well, that's how we met."

"Is he good to you?"

Mary smiled without meaning to. "He's the best thing that has ever happened to me." Aaron nodded, unsure of what to say. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, lighting one and inhaling. He offered one to his daughter.

"No thanks," she said, watching his mouth blow out smoke.

"So what do you do these days? Got a job?" Aaron asked.

She nodded. "I write songs and sell them to people, mostly to new record label artists and such."

"Oh," her father said. He wondered if that brought in a lot of money, but refrained from asking. "What does John do?"

Mary eyed her father skeptically. "Why are you really here? It's not just a quick catch up. Tell me." Aaron sighed.

"Mary," he began, "you're right…something has come up. I, uh, I went to the doctor the other day. Been having some problems, you know. Anyway, the doc checked me and they took some tests…" he trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

"And?" Mary prompted.

"And, they said I'm dying." Mary stilled. Dying, her father? Mr. I-Can-Drink-And-Party-And-Smoke-And-Such and never get sick or anything? Was this even possible? "It's all the drinking, they said," Aaron continued, "the drinking and the smoking, mostly. My liver is shot to hell and my lungs are black. The doc said…he said I didn't have that much time left, Mary. Lung cancer."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mary asked quietly, staring down at her hands sitting on her lap.

"Because I know I messed up with you," he admitted, "because I want to prove to you that I love you before I, well, meet the Big Guy upstairs." He laughed at his joke, but, realizing Mary wasn't amused, he stopped.

"Just trying to lighten up the mood," he said awkwardly. Mary stared at him.

"So," she said, trying to grasp the situation, "you're here because you're dying and you want to show me that you love me, right?" At Aaron's nod, Mary laughed bitterly. "Funny, Dad, real funny." She stood up, staring down at him coldly. "Don't pretend to be full of good intentions, it's not in you. You're just a pathetic, old man who wasted his life away and now you're paying for it. I don't know what you want, but you sure as hell won't get anything from me."

With that, she flounced off, leaving her father sitting where she left him, not caring if he was telling the truth or not.

(0)

Across town, Constantine was sitting at a bar, casually sipping a drink and not listening to Garret as he was talking. It was dark already, and he wondered how Mary was. He knew she had that meeting with her father earlier that day and he knew she had been worried about it. Oh, she pretended not to be, especially in front of him, but he had since learned how to read her somewhat accurately. He knew she was antsy about what her dad wanted.

Constantine inwardly sighed, his gaze passing over everything and everyone in the room. There were a number of couples, sitting together, nuzzling and kissing, making Constantine long for Mary, but, then again, he always missed her when he was away. Even if it was only for a little while, he couldn't help but anticipate their next meeting. I guess that's how love is, Constantine thought, sipping his drink. He also figured it to be just one of those weird side effects from being so lonely for so long—now he had someone when, before, he hadn't.

He felt it as soon as she entered the bar. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, sending chills down his spine. He glanced sharply at Garret, wanting to see if he had felt it as well, but Garret was still chatting away, heedless of Constantine's disinterest.

"Do you have a light?" Her voice was sexy, femininely deep and sultry, the melody of it making his heart pound. It even affected Garret, who had stopped talking. She was undoubtedly something unworldly.

"Yeah," Constantine said, groping his pockets. He pulled out his silver lighter, offering it to the woman. He had quiet smoking for some time now, but he always had his lighter.

The woman lighted her cigarette, took a puff, and handed the lighter back. "Thanks," she breathed, smoke trailing out of her red lips. She sat on the empty barstool next to Constantine. "So, waiting for someone?"

"No," said Constantine, the same time Garret said, "He's married." The woman's eyebrows rose.

"Oh?" she said, her voice implying that she didn't care Constantine was married. "Where is the wife, then?" Constantine gulped the rest of his drink.

"Not here," he answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The woman smiled coyly. She was beautiful; beautiful and seemingly dangerous. She was tall, blonde, and shapely—everything any breathing man found attractive. Her eyes were so dark they looked black, a harsh contrast to the long, white-blonde locks falling straight to her waist.

"What's your name?"

"John." He paused, looking the woman over. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well," she said seductively, "it would be nice if you could maybe walk me home."

"Didn't you just get here?"

"Yes, well," she admitted, "I'm not feeling very well anymore, and I don't want to go by myself. Would you come with me, please?" Her dark eyes called to him, pleaded with him, but the stronger part of Constantine said, clearly and strongly, no.

"No," he said aloud. He stood up. "Places to go, people to see; Garret can take you." Garret brightened.

"Yeah, definitely," he agreed. "My car's just outside…"

Constantine left them. There was something off about that woman, he just didn't know what. Garret seemed taken with her, so he could deal with it on his own this time. All Constantine wanted was to go home and check on Mary, see how she was after the thing with her dad. Little did Constantine know that at the precise moment he hailed a random cab, Garret was on his way out with the woman.

"So, what do I call you?" Garret asked, opening his car door for her. The woman smiled.

"Call me Jezebel…"