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Chapter Text
John's POV:
Damn.
He swore the Pamola hadn't looked as creepy from the inside of the car, but now, with a personal close-up, goosebumps were rapidly rising across his skin.
At least he was in his element now. With Zed and Jim standing trustingly at his side, all he could think about was making sure they got out of this alive. Now, with them safe, he could finally focus on what he was actually good at without worrying.
He racked his brain for all the vital information he possessed when it came to dealing with a Pamola.
His memory took him to when he was 19, studying fiercely on a book his good friend Jasper Winters had given him. He remembered reading the chapter on the Pamola, their strengths and weaknesses. They were agile bastards, fast on their feet and scared of practically nothing. Their roots were made up of part bird, part moose. They were literal gods of thunder in some places, but lucky for him, he knew he was only dealing with a minor right now. Unfortunately, even the less powerful creatures could control frigid temperatures and create awful storms. Hypnotism was another thing he'd have to worry about. He did know that fire was a formidable weapon against them, and the fact that he was fighting the Pamola in full daylight was also lucky. Along with that, the book had said that while masters of stealth and smell, they had remarkably poor eyesight.
He pursed his lips. His hands were twitching. They wanted to be creating magic, he knew, but he couldn't just blindly start spells if he didn't know where to aim. He hated waiting, but he knew if he was patient enough for the Pamola to make its first move, his odds would be better.
He could hear the Pamola's raspy breathing as it sought him out. The creature was about a foot away from his position, coiled up and ready to strike. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades as it took in the smell in its surroundings.
He could see it up close now, the full moose head and fierce, powerful wings folded against its body. He got a glimpse of its eyes, a stormy grey color, changing and shifting like lightning between clouds. He shook his head to clear the foggy sensation that overcame him as soon as he looked away. Hypnotism. Don't be stupid.
He knew he was screwed as soon as the Pamola ripped its head back and roared up at the sky, which by then was swirling with black, angry storm clouds. The screech was so horrible, it made the warlock want to fall to his knees in agony. It took all of his resolve to make sure his legs stayed firmly under him, but he was pretty sure they were trembling pathetically.
The roar was a show of dominance, the Pamola was confident and not backing down anytime soon. John knew he didn't have a lot of time to stall, this thing was prepared to attack him now. He could use magic to keep it at bay for a little while, and then when it was weakened, take advantage and send it to hell.
"Lispora sanci fuse alhro" , he chanted softly, bringing his hands together, feeling the burn of adrenaline as the familiar spots of fire appeared in both of his palms. He exhaled. The motions were soothing, familiar the way nothing else was. All he needed was Chas's familiar form beside him, and he could almost believe this was a normal case.
The Pamola wasn't stupid, it backed up and eyed him warily. He grinned.
"Come and get it, you bastard!"
The Pamola shrieked in response, beating its wings furiously, the lightning filling the sky, thunder pounding in tune to his temples.
John clenched his teeth to stop himself from groaning out loud. He waved the fire menacingly in front of him to give his brain some time to think, time to act. He needed a plan, one that didn't end with him being eaten alive.
The Pamola was getting increasingly impatient with his lack of action as well, and before he knew it, it was racing at him, the thundering of his feet matching the howl of the angry sky.
The Warlock chanted faster, dodging the Pamola's blows. The creature's claws were wickedly sharp, black as rock and about the size of John's arm. He returned the favour by flinging fire at it, making sure to keep it at a safe distance.
Unfortunately, even if the fire was keeping it at bay, it didn't seem to be wounding the Pamola at all. The strong, almost metallic feathers covering its body were stronger than they looked. He growled in frustration. He wouldn't be able to keep the spell for much longer, he had to end this. He was about to launch into a different spell, when a voice interrupted him.
"So you sent them away, huh? Typical. You know you never deserved them in the first place, right?"
His blood turned to ice. He froze in his tracks, completely forgetting about the threat in front of him. It was that voice. It made the warlock want to clench his hands over his ears and hide.
He brushed away the feeling and turned to face Thomas Constantine.
His father's smirking form greeted him, making him catch his breath.
"Dad?", he croaked out.
The elder Constantine shook his head. "You were never my son, boy. You wanna know what you are?" he spread his hands. "You're a monster. A murderer!"
He was shaking with rage by now. This was nothing he hadn't heard before, why the fuck was his brain messing with him now ?
"Why are you here?!" he yelled.
His father leered at him. "C'mon, Killer. You know the effects of a Pamola's hypnotism, don't you?"
"Hallucinations, visions, seeing the past, present and future." he murmured, remembering the book.
"Damn right. The horrible depths of your mind brought me here, and now I'm going to make sure you never get the chance to hurt someone else ever again."
It was like time had slowed down, but suddenly, John's head was slammed into the ground. Stars erupted in front of his vision, blurring his surroundings.
No! He wanted to scream. The Pamola's entire weight was on him, his entire body was aching but he was pretty sure the burning pain in his left leg meant it was broken. He struggled, ignoring it. The flames from his hands dissipated with his spell. The Pamola growled menacingly, making sure he wouldn't be stupid enough to try to attack it now. It's eyes glinted at him cruelly for a second, before pressing a fraction of its weight on John's broken leg. He cried out in pain, head swimming with dizziness as his vision went dark at the corners. He thrashed once more, a last, futile effort to gain the upper hand. The Pamola was expecting it though, and slashed a sharp claw across the Warlock's chest.
This wasn't good. The new wounds, mixed with the ones that were still healing from yesterday meant blood loss was going to be an issue of he didn't end this fast.
He bit his lip to stop from crying out again. His chest was on fire, and he knew blood was starting to stain his green sweater.
Except it wasn't his, it was Jim's. Thinking about Jim was making him think of Zed, and the last thought he had before his head made contact with the ground for good was how glad he was about leaving them behind. At least they were safe.
His world went mercifully dark soon after.
Chas's POV
"You did what?!"
The pair on the couch were staring at him guiltily. He rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated beyond belief.
"Let me get this straight. John was injured, he made his way to your house, the Pamola he was dealing with followed him there, you guys drove it away with Jim's car, and then he deliberately sent you here with magic and you didn't stop him? "
He took a deep breath. Only years of dealing with John's sarcasm and terrible plans were keeping him from losing his shit. He knew how to stay calm in situations like this, but even then, they showed up too frequently for his liking.
It didn't help that he now had to deal with Jim and Zed. He'd definitely missed them, but after not seeing them for almost four months he had wanted their reunion to be less scary. They had looked so guilty after telling him what had happened, something about John's visit had worried them more than usual.
He didn't need them to know how the warlock had been acting recently, the late nights where he would do nothing but practice spells, running on no sleep and barely any food, jumping from case to case without ever taking a break for himself. Chas was worried about him for sure, but he never broached the subject because he knew John would just retreat into himself and talk even less than usual. He knew his friend was having recurring nightmares lately, nights where he would find him on the sofa in the Mill House, drenched in sweat, hands curled around a familiar beer bottle, but not drinking with his normal vigor.
"Chas?"
He cursed himself for getting sidetracked as he pulled himself out of his thoughts.
"Sorry, just thinking about what we're going to have to do to get John out of this mess", he said, laughing softly to ease the tension. "It'll be okay. John can handle himself on solo cases, it's just with the rising darkness getting stronger every day, the cases get harder." he took a deep breath. "How bad did he look when he came to you?"
Jim shook his head. "Not good. He was barely standing upright, swaying on his feet. He had a couple of nasty claw marks on his back, and he was flinching whenever we got to close."
Damn it. "Did he get any sleep or rest? Food? Did you guys look at the sort of wounds he had? Did he get any medical attention for them before you guys launched into this crazy monster hunt?"
He knew he was dangerously close to full-blown yelling, and the pair in the room were staring at him nervously. He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up in his distress. Calm down Chas. Think.
"He didn't let us check his wounds. He took a shower, said he was fine afterwards. He did eat though." Zed said, trying to placate him.
Chas wanted to laugh hysterically. "So when he said he was fine, you believed him?"
He knew it wasn't their fault but he really wished they called him ahead of time. If John's life was in danger, he would have called a raincheck on visiting his daughter.
"We need to find him. Fast." he looked at them hopefully. "Please tell me you know where his last location was?"
Zed whipped out her phone. "My GPS was on while we were driving. Hopefully, we'll be able to track him down", she said triumphantly.
He grinned at her. "Nice. I'll grab my jacket."
He left them to it, grabbing his jacket from where he discarded it earlier. He also snatched the cab keys, the metal a familiar weight in his palm. He'd lost count of how many times he needed them, clenched comfortingly in his fists after a rough case with the warlock.
He jangled them in front of the pair, his hand already on the door handle. "It's already mid-afternoon, John could be anywhere. Let's go."
John's POV
He blinked his eyes foggily. It felt like an anvil was cleaving his head open, and a low groan was released from his throat when he attempted to sit up.
Woah. Easy, John.
His world tipped sickenly to a 180 degree turn, and the meager bowl of stew he'd had at Zed's house was threatening to make a reappearance. He clenched his jaw, stubbornly keeping his resolve. He wasn't throwing up here.
Where was here, anyway? He took a couple of deep breaths to soothe the nausea churning in stomach, while cautiously opening his eyes to survey his surroundings.
Upon opening his eyes, he was relieved to find that wherever he was, it was dark, easier to hide spells and himself. He was in some sort of cave. The walls were covered in mildew and the air was significantly colder than it had been before he lost consciousness. He cursed inwardly. That meant he'd been out for at least a couple of hours, because the temperature and darkness meant it was late at night.
The Pamola was helpfully absent, but it still sent shivers of uneasiness coursing through him. He needed a plan.
He looked down at himself. Even he had to admit to himself that he could have been in better shape. Dried blood was coating the stupid sweater, he could count at least six or seven deep claw marks. His body ached as well, bruises were definitely going to pattern his skin later.
Along with that, he could definitely tell his left leg was broken. How badly, he didn't know, but he had to find a way to get out of here.
He clenched his teeth and swung his body upwards in a futile effort to rise. The reaction was imminent, he ended up biting the inside of his cheek as a scream of pain threatened to give away the fact that he was awake. His left leg was on fire, the pain was blocking out all the other rational thoughts in his head. He hissed, rose from his knees, and pulled himself agonisingly to his full his height. He tried vainly to keep his broken leg from jostling, and swayed for a couple of seconds, while his vision tilted dramatically. He was beginning to wish he'd stayed on the floor, but he put up his hands to brace them on the wall of the cave to steady himself. He wasn't going down again, he needed to clear his head and get out of here.
While he waited for his breathing to even out and the pain from his leg and chest tuned out, he once again let his eyes roam his surroundings, searching for anything he could use to his advantage.
With further inspection, he realized the cave was much bigger than he first thought, and that a pile of rubble, evidently from a collapsed wall, was hiding the rest of the space from view.
He clenched his mouth closed as tight as possible, as he attempted to force his body to move. The pain in his leg, which had been reduced to a dull throbbing, came back full force, as he jostled the broken limb.
The resulting half-shuffle was created, keeping his left leg from touching the ground, but it didn't help in the least. Every time he raised his leg off the ground, the wounds on his chest felt like they were splitting open, and the slightest vibrations from his movements were jostling the broken limb. It was bringing tears of pain to his eyes, and his resolve was slowly crumbling. He pushed the sudden urge to close his eyes away and made his way to the other side of the cave.
The sight that greeted him made him stop completely.
The Pamola's powerful form was haunched on the floor. It took John's pain-riddled mind a minute to realize the creature was sleeping, its eyes were firmly closed, breathing echoing throughout the cave.
It took him a second to realize how cold it was in the damp cave, his breath was clouding the air. He shivered involuntarily, knowing it was the Pamola's presence creating the drafty winds and sharp smell of ozone.
What shocked him the most was the fact that his beloved bag was sitting innocently in front of the Pamola , just inches away. His brain raced with possibilities. All he had to do was reach the bag, get the chalk and holy water needed for the exorcism, and finally banish this nightmare.
He underestimated how badly he was hurt, though. He knew that it would be practically impossible to walk to the bag without making noise.
It was a torturously slow process, he ended up covering his mouth with his sleeve to hide his ragged breathing. Each step made him want to curl up in agony, and his repetitive mantra of you've been through worse, you've been through worse wasn't helping as much as he wanted it to.
But there, just one more step and his bag would be within reaching distance! And just in time too, his breathing was getting harsher, and black spots were starting to make an unwelcome appearance in the corners of his vision.
He slumped downward, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting the screaming pain from his injuries as his broken leg met the ground. The fabric from his bag was clenched tight in his fists, a beacon of reassurance in the horrible cold of the cave. He was already grasping the holy water and chalk. There was no way he would be able to draw the traditional symbols on the floor around the Pamola , even he knew his ailing body wouldn't be able to manage it. He did hear about certain lucky circumstances where just throwing chalk over a creature would banish them as well with holy water and chanting, and he was grateful that he'd kept a bag of crushed chalk for that reason exactly.
No matter how terrible his situations got, John Constantine would never pray for help. Not at Newcastle. Not in the sewers with Ann Marie. And he definitely wasn't about to start now. He still found himself thinking about what might happen if the Pamola would do to him if the chalk spell wasn't good enough.
After all, it didn't help you last time.
He shivered involuntarily. He prepared himself for the reaction he was about to receive, as his hands opened the precious bottles of holy water. He wasted no time, throwing it across the creature's back and wings.
The effect was instantaneous. The Pamola opened its eyes and roared, its strong muscles contracting in pain. The warlock grinned. The bastard deserved it, and it probably felt like liquid fire was coating its skin. While the creature was distracted, he fumbled with his bag of crushed chalk and swung his arm out to throw a handful towards the Pamola .
It cried out once more, now in defiance. It lumbered to its full height, towering menacingly over the warlock. That wouldn't do at all. He needed it to stay still.
He gave it his all, vigorously chanting, as the Pamola was brought to its knees once more. The creature howled and shrieked, the noise was deafening. John closed it off, focusing solely on the task at hand. He was glad the Pamola didn't look like it was able to escape anytime soon. He was more than exhausted, and he knew Chas and the rest of them would be full-on worrying by now.
However, he under-estimated the force of the creature's yelling, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he realized loose pieces of rock were starting to fall in the tiny cave. Vibrations were shaking its tiny interior, and he knew the whole place would cave in if he didn't end this soon.
"Asporas leriotus zilifosu!" he bellowed with an air of finality. It was over, that was all he could do. The pain was returning as the buzz of adrenaline faded, and his relief when he saw the Pamola disappear was unlike any he'd felt in awhile.
His triumph was short-lived, and he cursed. The ceiling of the cave was giving way, and fast. He needed to move.
But when he tried to get his legs to obey, they wobbled and folded under his dead weight. His vision was getting blurrier, and he could barely form coherent thoughts.
I'm going to make sure you never get the chance to hurt someone else ever again , Tom Constantine whispered, and he shivered. It was his last thought before his world went black.
Chas's POV
Tap tap tap.
His fingers were absentmindedly fidgeting with the drivers wheel, the pads of his fingertips relentlessly beating against the leather. He knew it wasn't the only sign betraying his uneasiness. The shadows under his eyes and the worry lines were finding a permanent residence on his face. He was beyond tired, with everything going on since his visit to his daughter. It was pure panic keeping him awake and driving right now.
He paused momentarily to glance up at his rear view mirror. Zed and Jim also looked tired, Jim's head was resting on her shoulder. His heart clenched at the sight involuntarily. He was glad they were happy, they deserved that. But seeing them so content, and knowing what their happiness probably looked to John, who was abandoned by his older sister at a young age, drove knives of vicious guilt into his heart. He loved his best friend, the warlock never deserved that.
Damn, his legs were starting to fidget too. He tried to stop the repetitive motions, tried to stay calm.
A hand at his shoulder startled him, jerking him out of his reverie. Zed backed away easily.
"Are you alright? You've been on edge ever since we started driving."
He barked out what could have been a pathetic excuse for a laugh and a sob.
"Of course I'm on edge! We've been in situations like this before, but with the rising darkness getting worse everyday, I guess I'm just worried I'll finally find out what John's limit is." he breathed out a shaky laugh.
Zed knew he was close to freaking out, and gave him a reassuring look. "He'll be fine, Chas. You know more than anyone he's been through worse before. He'll pull through."
He nodded, envious of her certainty. She sat back in her seat once more, fiddling with her phone.
"We're almost there. Chas, you're going to have to pull over here."
Here , was out in the middle of nowhere, a desolate road with old forests on both sides. He stopped the car, and his uneasiness sparked up again as soon as he saw the skidmarks of another car, printed into the dark mud.
He pointed at it. "This was the car you were driving, right?"
Jim nodded. We went off in the forest for a couple more miles, until John got us to the Mill House."
Chas gestured into the woods. "Then the car shouldn't be too hard to find", he said determinedly.
The trek into the woods proved to be more difficult than it looked. Most of the trees were dead and rotting, and creaked ominously at every opportunity. The fallen trees littering the forest floor were damp and slippery. Chas barley gave the scene a second glance, his eyes staring forward determinedly on his target.
It didn't take them too long. The harsh tire marks where the car had skid earlier all led to a full stop. As soon as they found the last of the tire imprints, they found what they were looking for.
Zed couldn't conceal a gasp when the sight greeted them. Even Chas felt a stab of horror when he saw it.
The car was a wreck, to be exact. Broken glass and metal crunched under their feet, remnants of what used to be the car's windows and hood. It wasn't even upright, he could see long claw marks where a huge hand had tossed the car over. He shuddered, his imagination supplying him with visions of John trapped in the shaking car, the Pamola leering outside.
"Chas?"
He was almost grateful for the interruption, he'd almost forgotten the pair were behind him.
"Yeah?" Damn, why did his mouth feel so dry all of a sudden?
"We're going to get him back. He's going to be okay." Zed said, her voice soft. Jim was staring at him as well, eyes filled with concern.
He wanted to know why they were looking at him like he was delicate and fragile, a glass object seconds away from shattering. Then he dimly realized his hands were trembling violently. Shit .
How do you know?! How could you possibly know that this will turn out okay!? His internal voice screamed out. He was so tired of the worry, of the grief. Her voice was a comfort nevertheless, and he nodded in thanks for her reassurance.
She stared at him determinedly. "I can find him."
Chas's entire train of thought derailed. "What are you talking about?" he managed to croaked out.
She grinned at him dryly. I can still produce visions, you know. I'll just find him using the car."
He was about to argue, when Jim interrupted her instead. "Do you know what you're doing?"
She nodded.
"I trust you. If anyone could find John, it's you."
She smiled at him, and Chas couldn't find the strength to disagree. He was exhausted, and he trusted Jim's opinion. Zed marched towards the car, and both Chas knew he wasn't the only one who saw her hesitate. He also knew why. Seeing her with her hands out, ready to glean information from people and objects, brought back too many memories of the years past.
Zed's eyes glowed white, her hair fluttering as she placed her hands almost delicately on the wreckage that used to be a car. The woods around them creaked and swayed, providing an endless cacophony of sounds that made Chas want to crawl out of there on his hands and knees.
It only took a few minutes. He knew Jim was staring back and forth between him and Zed, looking desperately lost. Chas wanted to know that everything was going to be okay, otherwise, how could he comfort Jim?
It took him a second to realize that while Zed was standing completely motionless, her face wasn't devoid of emotion. His gut clenched horribly as he watched tears pour slowly down her cheeks.
No no no no no no no.
He scrubbed one of his hands across his face, closing his eyes and praying for hope, trying to ignore the fact that Zed could be seeing the warlock's dead body at that very moment. John couldn't be dead. Not after everything.
Zed came out of her vision stunned and hiccuping, as she dried her tears and tried to speak.
"He's just lying there. So still, so much-" she gulped, the tears threatening to make a reappearance "-so much blood."
Damn it!
Chas swung around and violently struck his fists out. His knuckles met rotten wood, and he spent the next four minutes pulverizing it, his fists meeting the tree satisfyingly. The whole time, his internal thoughts stayed with him, taunting him. Why didn't you go with him? Why weren't you there?
He turned around to face the others when he couldn't ignore them any longer. Zed's face was filled with grief, and Jim couldn't look him in the eye. He swallowed through his anger and attempted to marshal his vocal chords into order.
"So that's it then, huh?" he said, the sound of his voice gruff and piercing in the stillness of the forest.
Zed looked at him in horror. "He's not dead Chas! I saw him, he looks fucking awful, but I can tell the difference between living souls and dead ones."
Her words stunned him momentarily. He furiously thought about what she'd said earlier, trying to figure out how his brain had jumped to conclusions so fast. Was he so resigned to the people around John dying that he figured it was only a matter of time before the tables turned? Hadn't that been his deep-rooted fear this whole time? On the other hand, Zed's promise that John was still alive sent hope like a white-hot blaze to his heart.
"Tell me everything you saw. Everything ."
Jim and Zed stared at each other for a minute. He knew he was worrying them, his bent posture and every haggard line on his face were all betraying his state of mind. He wasn't thinking clearly, and right now, that could be a very dangerous thing.
Zed started hesitantly. "He got out of the car, and he tried to start a spell, but something distracted him." she shook her head, lost in thought. "I've never seen him like that before. He looked terrified, and lost. Like he was seeing something no one else could see."
Chas wanted to swear again. "Hypnotism", he managed to say, his teeth clenched angrily. He'd heard John talk about how powerful hypnotism was, heck, he'd seen John do hypnotism occasionally. He wondered what the bowels of his friend's mind had managed to dig up. Zatanna? Newcastle? Astra Louge? Gary Lester? The list was endless.
"What else did you see?" Jim asked, bringing him back to the present.
"After John got distracted, the Pamola roughed him up." she winced, and Chas resisted the urge to ask just how badly the creature had roughed John up .
"Then it dragged him off somewhere, my vision was pulled to somewhere nearby, a cave, I think."
Chas was relieved. There was no guarantee they could save John, but they had a plan now, at least. "Can you find it?"
She nodded confidently, and Chas swore half of the tension left his frame in that moment, purely out of relief. "Lead the way, then."
The small group made their way behind Zed, who was practically running at this point. It took them roughly twenty minutes of walking until she stopped, her entire posture rigid. "Here", she finally said, her voice soft despite the nervousness they all felt.
Chas knew what she meant. The magic in the air was practically humming with energy, turning the air electric. He was smelling ozone, his blood was pumping furiously through his veins. He felt somewhat dizzyingly high and completely grounded at the same time. He'd felt this way around exorcisms, demons and, his heart though with a pang, his best friend. It was something he always loved about John, the quick sharp fire that lived inside him, ever present despite the man's destructive thoughts and behavior. At the end of the day, he could always count on the warlock to bring a crappy joke and a shit-eating grin to the most grimacing of situations.
Forcing himself out of his thoughts once more, he indeed saw a cave up ahead. Seeing it brought a whole basket of emotions to his mental doorstep. Part of him was glad this nightmare was almost over, but the more rational part of his brain argued that the night was just beginning. Who knew what John had gotten himself into this time?
He had to force himself not to push through Zed and Jim in front of him and just run into the cave like he was insane.
They all collectively stopped at the mouth of the cave, and Chas's mouth went dry when he remembered reading about how most caves were actually bigger than they looked on the outside. He glanced at the others momentarily, gathering his strength.
"Stay together", were his last words, and they trudged solemnly onwards.
John's POV
He couldn't do it. His eyes felt like two lead points, dead weights refusing to cooperate. He groaned miserably, because as he came to, the pain in his body seemed to triple by itself. The wounds on his back and upper torso were on fire, and his broken leg was leaving him dizzy and nauseous. He was seriously considering just lying there until he managed to pass out again. He also didn't think that the fact that if he fell asleep he probably never would wake up again didn't really qualify as a pressing concern at this point.
"John?"
He gritted his teeth. No. Not again. Never again.
"John, c'mon, get up."
Dammit. He raised his head a fraction of an inch, his gaze turning to meet the face of his biggest failure.
"Hey luv", he croaked, knowing deep-down he was just talking to a patch of empty space.
Astra smiled at him. It was like not a day had passed since that fateful day at Newcastle. She was still wearing the same clothes, a white dress that made her look even more innocent. The only thing missing was the terrified look on her face. This version of Astra Louge had a peaceful expression, free of worry and fear. It made her look like a completely different kid, and it made John's heart ache painfully.
"Is this what you wanted John?" she asked, her voice soft and sweet.
He choked out what could have been a desperate sob. "I don't know, Astra. But you should know more than I do that it's probably what I deserve."
She shook her head, her frizzy curls jostling with every movement. "No, John. You never deserved this. What do you think Cheryl would say if she could see you right now?"
Just the thought of his older sister made the warlock want to flinch. He never told anyone about why he had been so desperate to escape Liverpool's clutches, but he had told Chas once, after a case and a couple of beers in the local pub. After that, Chas had wisely learned never to mention her, because it would put John in a miserable mood for the next few days. The fact that nightmares also plagued him after thinking about Cheryl didn't help either.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. "She would tell me to get the hell up", he decided, staring her in the eye.
Astra nodded. He reached up, pushing his bruised and battered body upwards. Every nerve in his body flared with pain again, but he couldn't stop now. He braced his hands under him, finding the strength to eventually stagger upright. He leaned heavily on the cave wall, barely keeping his knees from shaking.
"You'll be okay, John. You'll get there somehow."
He shook his head blearily. He dimly noticed that Astra's form was flickering slowly, turning blurry at the edges. "Don't leave, please ", he croaked out pathetically. "I can't get out of here by myself."
He was beyond desperate at this point, but even he could laugh about ironic his current situation was. Here he was, too weak to walk, and he was pleading for help from Astra Louge , never mind the fact that she wasn't even real, just a figment of his imagination.
But Astra just smiled at him. "You don't need my help." she gestured behind him, where the cave's opening was. " Help is on the way. Just remember what I told you, John. Even you deserve redemption."
Her silhouette started to shimmer. The warlock clenched his eyes shut. He couldn't watch, not again. He didn't think he'd ever be able to see the child he'd doomed all those years ago disappear all over again. But he had to. He couldn't let her leave without-
"Astra!" she turned to him, one last time, eyes bright and fierce. "I'm so sorry, luv. For everything", he whispered, tears making their way down his face.
He wrenched his eyes open once more, unable to ignore the silence any longer. As he expected, Astra was gone. He felt a violent urge to fall to his knees and weep.
Until Chas showed up.
Chas's POV
The inside of the cave wasn't any more welcoming than the exterior. The whole place sent chills down his spine, goosebumps rising on his skin. He didn't want anything to do with the place, but with Zed muttering about how she could sense John nearby, he didn't really have other options.
Thinking about his best friend brought a whole new level of uneasiness. Jim and Zed hadn't specified what John had looked like when he got to their place, but Chas's imagination filled in the blank spots. He'd seen John at his worst too many time since Newcastle and Ravenscar. And to think, you actually though since Newcastle had been so terrible, maybe the worst was finally over. He clenched his eyes to keep tears from escaping the corners of his eyes. The thought gave him a sick sense of irony now. John didn't deserve this. After everything he'd been through, losing his mother, being blamed for her death, the abuse from his father, Cheryl leaving, Newcastle, Astra, Ravenscar, Gary-
Jesus
The list was almost too long to contemplate. He knew John was amazing at putting on shows. Shows meant to fool people, establish a persona so vibrant and distinct it would be impossible to forget. As far as he knew, Chas was the only person who'd ever been allowed to witness cracks in the facade, small and barely recognizable in the middle of a hectic case or supernatural oddity. But after those cases, quiet evenings spent calmly at the Mill House, they reached their peak violence, slowly breaking the Warlock's mental strength. Nights spent waking up to screams from John's bedroom, only to find him shaking in bed, hands trembling and sweat dotting his forehead.
On good nights, this would mean offering help that was quickly denied with a shake of the head and a muttered "I'll be fine." this was followed by a hurried smile, forced and pained. It barely took time for John to put up his facade once more, he'd had lots of practice for it. But Chas never had the heart to mention his shaking hands and violently trembling form afterwards, regardless of whether it would be worth it in the long run.
And those were the good nights . Anything was better than the nights Chas would stay up holding John's limp form as the man sobbed and shook, fragile as glass in his arms. Those were usually the nights following cases that brought back buried memories, ones that dealt with abusive families falling apart, and kids, especially kids.
Had it been that bad at Jim and Zed's place? Did John go find them because he'd faced exorcising something even he wasn't capable of? Dammit, Chas, you should have been there!
He was literally John's only support system, he'd promised himself a long time ago that would never change. He was kind of glad Zed had distanced herself after New Orleans, she deserved to be happy. On the other hand, the loyal, fierce part of him that refused to leave John's side, the part that stuck with him to every disastrous trip to visit his daughter and reconcile with Renee, was furious . Rage, white-hot and burning with energy coursed through his body at the thought of the warlock being abandoned by someone else all over again. It happened too many times for his liking, and guilt still plagued him for not being there at Newcastle. It didn't help that John probably preferred that he wasn't there, he probably figured Chas would have left him by now like everyone else had, Ritchie Simpson, Anne-Marie, Judith.
A low moan interrupted his train of thought, and what also sounded like a voice.
He cursed himself for getting distracted so frequently. He rushed ahead, passing Zed and Jim in seconds. He was so fucking close, he heard John, he was here , and everything was finally going to be okay.
He skidded in eagerness to reach the other side of the cave wall. The voice was nearing, and Chas could definitely recognize the Warlock's familiar british drawl.
Even if it sounded horribly weak.
When he first saw Chas enter, he flinched, terrified. His expression turned to one of dull sorrow afterwards, barely sparing his best friend a second glance. John was leaning on the cave floor, his arms wrapped around himself. He was shaking, sobs clearly racking his too-skinny frame. His clothes were ruined, covered in mud and, to Chas's growing horror, blood. His hair stuck out at every direction, his eyes filled with misery and fear. Tear tracks were visible on his face, and Chas's heart ached at what the warlock had been through this time.
"John?", he whispered. He wasn't expecting response, and he had to stop the tears from escaping when he got one.
"Chas." the hollowed tone was so dejected, completely powerless. "You're not here right now, you know that, right?"
Fuck, it was taking all of his extra lives to not sink to his knees at that moment. His jaw was trembling, mouth incredibly dry.
"Why would you say that?"
John laughed, and the sound echoed through the cave. It wasn't his usual laugh, the one that filled Chas with warmth. This kind of laugh came from a broken man, and it chilled him to the bone.
"You and I both know this isn't real, Chas." The warlock stared him straight in the eyes. "Beside", a few more tears made their way down his face, "you're not the first person to visit me tonight."
Shit, he'd almost forgotten about the hypnotism. Who else had come to see John? He ran the list of names through his head, none of them pleasant. He needed to fix this.
"John, look at me." he said softly. And the warlock did. He stared at him with empty eyes, eyes that used to be filled with mischievous energy. Seeing John so utterly broken made Chas weak at the knees, he wanted to scream and cry and hit something.
Suddenly, the sound of nearby footsteps could be heard behind them. Chas knew Zed and Jim had finally caught up, but John had no idea what was going on. It was clear the blood loss was worse than it looked. Chas glanced at the pair as they rounded the corner, literally running. John cowered next to him.
"Did you find-" Jim's voice came to an abrupt halt as the couple viewed the horrific scene in front of them.
John was groaning now, a pitiful whimpering noise that made Chas want to cover his ears. He didn't know what John had been through this time, but it looked like sudden noises and appearances were spooking him somehow.
He backed away slowly, hands up in a non-threatening gesture. He stared at the pair behind him for a minute, trying to convey his urgency without speaking. It was clear John wasn't thinking straight, he could barely stand, let alone talk. Chas knew from past experiences, hateful experiences, that a panicked warlock was not a good one. There'd been terrible nights, right after Gary Lester had died, that had John waking up in the middle of the night screaming. It was especially scary at times when it took a few minutes for him to gain his bearings, because he often forgot he was safe, in the Mill House.
Zed and Jim seemed to get how bad the situation had gotten. They backed away slowly as well, tension so thick in the air Chas felt like he was breathing it in. He swallowed heavily, eyes locked onto his best friend.
"John?"
The warlock turned to him. Blue eyes, now unfamiliar with grief and glassy with unshed tears, stared back at him. He could almost believe it was a different person, one Chas had never met. Where had the cocky, ignorant british man gone, the one filled with ear-splitting smirks and countless wisecracks at his disposal?
He swallowed his despair. He needed to fix this.
"We're here, John." he spread his arms. "I'm here", he said softly. The warlock let out a shaky sigh. He braced onwards, ignoring the movement. "I'm not going anywhere John. We're going to take you home. The Mill House. Remember?"
John let out a broken half-laugh, half-sob. "Of course I bloody remember Chas. How the hell could I ever forget?" his eyes suddenly widened fractionally. "I sent Zed and Jim to the Mill House, Chas. You have to promise me you'll keep them safe, mate. Please."
He turned around. For the first time since he entered the cave, he was at a complete loss. How the fuck could he fix this? Zed was shaking, and Jim had tears at the corners of his eyes.
"Of course I'll keep them safe." Jesus, his voice was starting to break. If he wasn't careful, tears would find their way out soon enough, and he couldn't afford to break down now.
"But not without you, John. I'm not leaving here without you."
John cracked a smile, a small one, but it was there. For a second, Chas saw a flash of the John he recognized.
"Go ahead mate. In the meantime, I'm busy bleeding out at the moment, so we might need to have this conversation some other time."
Right. Chas had a hard time ignoring the steady pool of blood covering his friend's midriff. John needed medical attention fast, or at least something to stop the bleeding until they could get him to the Mill House.
The only problem was that Chas didn't think he could handle moving the warlock. He knew it was stupidly irrational, but John seemed so fragile, he was terrified of hurting him further.
He gritted his teeth and turned to Zed. "We have to get him to the car."
Jim shook his head. We'll just injure him more. Maybe more then he can handle right now, Chas. This cave is stranded in the middle of a forest, and it's at least midnight by now. Assuming we can even find our way out of here in pitch-darkness, the car's out on the road, We'll never make it."
" We don't have a choice right now!"
Dammit, he was past the point of yelling. His voice was raw from the emotional turmoil building inside him like a volcano. He ran a hand through his hair, stressed beyond belief.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I wouldn't ask if we-"
"-had any other options, I know." Jim interrupted him, his face set and determined. "Let's get this over with."
He nodded, and stepped forward slowly. John appeared to have calmed down, his eyes weren't jumping back and forth to every started movement. Or maybe that was just his exhaustion finally reaching his limit. Either way, it was good for all of them that he was stiller now.
"John, we're taking you back to the car now." he spoke in low, soothing tones, trying to keep his worry at bay.
"We're going to have to carry you, so I need to know if there's anything we should be worried about."
John grimaced, his mouth curling in pain. "My leg. The left one."
Dammit. Chas's eyes found the awkward way John was shielding his broken leg from further pain. It was bent unnaturally, covered in blood and obviously broken. Moving him to the car would be more than difficult, jostling the warlock's leg would just cause him further pain.
But fuck , they didn't have any other options. Chas hated it, the sick, twisted feeling of helplessness eating him alive. It was worse than any fight with Rene, worse than the disappointment that clouded his daughter's face every time he left them to go galavanting with John. His wife never comprehended his need to see the world, never understood why he ditched their cozy family for a crazy warlock and his dangerous stunts. And Chas, for the life of him, couldn't bring himself to make her understand, and show her how much John meant to him.
It was times like this though, with his friend broken and bleeding in his arms, that he came to realize her point of view. Watching John throw himself repeatedly into danger, while he watched desperately at the sidelines, was slowly breaking him mentally and emotionally.
And the kind of pain that accompanied that feeling was something even forty extra lives couldn't fix.
Zed's POV:
John's screams rang frightfully loud in her ears. The sound of his agony was heart-breaking, and she wanted to clasp her hands to her ears and run far, far away from everything she'd seen in the last couple of hours.
She desperately tried to think of other distracting thoughts, calming thoughts. The Mill House with its crackling fireplace. Curling up on a couch and sketching peacefully. Running around with Chas and John while doing crazy supernatural shit. Anything to keep her mind off of John's present state.
Her friend was a wreck. Chas only had the chance to pick him up with a quiet apology before picking him up and lifting him up in a bridal carry. He winced at the expected scream that suddenly echoed throughout the cave, as the Warlock's broken leg jostled violently. Chas stilled for a minute, waiting for John to catch his breath, before glancing up at Zed and Jim.
"We have to go now.", he said, voice filled with determination.
Zed felt a sudden rush of gratitude. Without Chas here, she didn't think any of them could have gotten as far as they did. He was probably the reason John was still alive.
Jim stepped forward and narrowed his eyes as he studied the warlock. John eyelids were fluttering as he fought to stay awake, and his breathing came in slow, harsh motions.
"If we're moving him, we better hurry."
Chas's eyes widened. "What the-"
Horror started to fill her, as she saw blood rapidly staining Chas's shirt and hands.
"Fuck", she whispered. She glanced up at the pair worriedly. "When he was lying down, the floor of the cave was probably pressing against his wounds and blocking the blood flow. Depending on how long he was stuck here, it's probably the only reason he hasn't bled out already."
She didn't need to look up to know that Chas and Jim's faces mirrored her concern and despair.
She shook her head, clearing the haze that was clouding her judgment. "Chas." she was barely whispering, but his name on her lips echoed throughout the empty cave, vibrating and making her shiver. They needed to get the hell away from here.
Her friends just nodded, resigned. He bent forward, shushing the warlock gently, cradling his limp form. Without looking for confirmation, he started for the cave's exit, moving as fast as possible without hurting John. Lines of pain were etched onto his face, his mouth parting in a silent groan of agony.
The rest of the journey was a blur, Zed lost count of the twists and turns they travelled through, in the cave that was slowly becoming its own sick version of hell. All of Chas's attention was on the warlock, but Jim was clear-headed enough to remember the way to the exit. Their footsteps were rushed and soon became a dull noise, one she barely recognized as the minutes wore on. She shuddered as she realized the blood in her vision had come from Chas carrying John. It didn't matter that she already knew where her friend was, because she knew the worst was yet to come. Hell, they didn't even know how bad off John really was, and all she could think of was that she had left him, just when he'd needed her the most. It was eerily similar to all those months ago in New Orleans. She shivered.
She almost sobbed in relief when they reached the exit. Her feet were barely able to navigate the rocks and tree roots under her, her exhaustion a physical weight dragging her down. They made it out, and she took the driver's seat without a word. Jim helped Chas get John in the car, a strangled groan making its way past the Warlock's chapped lips as he was jostled. Chas sat next to him, holding him securely with one arm. Jim sat in the seat next to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled softly, pecked him on the cheek and placed her hands on the wheel.
Dammit, if it wasn't for the smooth leather underneath her palms and the reassuring weight of Jim's hand, none of this would have felt real. They'd been in situations like this more times then she could count, but it never fully registered how dangerous it all was until it was too fucking late .
She drove on.
John's POV
Pain.
It dulled his senses, overtaking him completely until he was limp and unresponsive. His muscles screamed at every movement, which didn't make sense, because he couldn't recall getting up. Dimly, he realized he was moving, and instinct kicked in. He could feel someone's hands resting on his arms, and his breath hitched as he tried to stop himself from yelling. He bolted upwards, his eyes wide open while he panicked. His brain screamed at him to assess, to figure out what the hell was going on, but his body wouldn't respond. His eyelids fluttered from his too-bright surroundings, his leg itching with pain.
"John?"
The voice was familiar, but his scrambled thoughts couldn't place it. For some reason, it brought a wave of comfort, stilling his movements and dulling his fear. He opened his eyes.
Chas's warm blue eyes met his, and for all he knew, nothing at all had changed. It was just a normal day for the two of them, back at the Mill House, getting ready to jump into another crazy hunt for the supernatural oddities they're so addicted to. His hands found the comforting leather seats under his body, knowing instantly he was in the cab, their cab . Nothing's out of order, it was just him and Chas, in the cab they've spent half their lives in. As his senses returned, small details started to rise out of the haze. He's in the cab, which is moving, and his bag, filled with familiar spells is next to him. He realized Zed was driving, with Jim sitting next to her. With them present, everything at last is in order.
But as those important details make their way to the front of his mind, others also impatiently crowd for his attention. He could clearly see the tight lines of worry etched across Jim's face, while Zed's fingers beat a senseless tango on the dashboard, as if looking for a way out of their current situation. There was a quiet feel of desperation in the atmosphere of the cab, and he stared up at the familiar face above him, into those blue, blue eyes.
"Chas."
The words were barely there, just a faint whisper in the air. It didn't seem possible that anyone would have heard him, that his plea would be drowned out by the cab's tires on the road.
But those eyes lit up, beautifully bright in the dark. He tried to say more, but Chas's simple response was to put his fingers to the Warlock's lips.
"Easy, John." His voice was gentle. "How're you feeling?"
John felt like grinning. He coughed instead, pain racking through his skinny frame.
"Never better, luv. Where're we headed?"
Chas snorted, and it was so matter-of-fact his heart ached. "We're going to the Mill House. You need to rest up, get your strength back." Those blue eyes faltered for a minute, and the guilt that plagued John so often returned swiftly, like a punch to the gut. The pain in his friend's eyes made him want to curl up and disappear. Chas cleared his throat roughly, and Jim put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You scared us, man. We were worried."
John wanted to scream at them, or break something repeatedly. He couldn't recall what had happened to cause this latest screw-up, but he knew he'd probably fucked something up, if his injuries were anything to go by.
As if remembering his injuries brought the pain back without warning, he groaned, jerking out of Chas's grip.
"Are there pain meds in here somewhere?"
He could dimly make out Jim's panicked voice as the muffled sounds of them searching through the cab's glove compartment reached his ears. Chas sweared, and he knew they were going to have to do this the hard way. He would either have to ignore the pain for the rest of their journey, or he might get insanely lucky and the pain would knock him out early on. He gritted his teeth.
He needed to stop forgetting about Zed's resourcefulness, because it was usually her in the end that saved them. Keeping one hand on the wheel tightly, her fingers plunged into her jacket pocket, searching ruthlessly. When they came up empty, she had to stop herself from yelling out loud in frustration. She tried her jeans pocket, this time grinning triumphantly.
She tossed the sealed container to Chas impatiently, and once it was in his palm he couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.
He suppressed a groan as he raised his head to stare at whatever Chas was grinning at.
What the actual fuck.
He knew most migraine pills knocked you out, unless they were the non-drowsy kind. It wouldn't help John with his injuries, but they might just be able to keep him unconscious until they reached the Mill House. Dammit. You can hold out until then, John.
The more rational part of his brain answered that he didn't really have any other options.
Jim measured out two pills, handing them to the warlock. He gulped them dry, ignoring Chas's groan of disgust. A small smile tugged at his lips at the sound. His breathing turned laboured as his eyes shut slowly, the rhythmic pressure of Chas's fingers carding gently through his hair lulling him to sleep. O