Author's Note: Thank you for another excellent review! I'm glad people are enjoying this so much. At the moment I have written up to Chapter 8 and am in the middle of Chapter 9, so don't worry, even if I get lazy there'll still be some new content for you to read. Please review!
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The morning came again. Time meant little to John these days.
Sharp knocking at his front door.
He sat up suddenly, heart racing. Sometimes... sometimes Chas had knocked early in the morning, when he had locked himself out.
It wasn't possible.
"No, John, it's not fucking possible," he growled to himself.
More knocking.
John couldn't ignore it. Getting up, he went to the door slowly, unlocking it. He pulled it open.
"John." Angela stood before him, dressed smartly, apparently unfazed at finding him in his boxers.
John felt a strange lump in his throat. He had hoped so badly to find Chas standing there.
"We need to talk," she said.
"Not now."
"John-"
"I said not now." There was a time when John had wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Now he only wanted to kiss one person.
Fuck, he hadn't just thought that, had he?
"John, people say they can hear you screaming. Nobody's seen you leave this place since... since..."
"So?"
"What's going on, Constantine?"
John didn't fucking know. He looked blankly back at her.
"You're the great John Constantine."
"I'm the great John Constantine," he repeated numbly, the words unconvincing. "The great fucking John Constantine." So great he couldn't even save Chas.
"What's going on?" she asked again, then lowered her head. "I don't know you anymore."
"You didn't anyway." Only one person ever had.
"John, I'm coming in for coffee. And we're going to talk." Angela pushed her way past him, and he glared at her, hating her because she wasn't Chas.