AN/ Hello everyone! Allow me to apologise profusely for my uncustomary delay in updating this fic. To put it simply, my computer crashed and I lost everything on it. Luckily for me, most of the rough drafts of this fic were saved on my beta's computer, so from now on this fic will be updated more frequently. Thank you for putting up with me and reviewing. Also thanks to Troy and Cameron who helped me improve this chapter.

Constantine and I were still recovering from the effects of being in Hell as we walked with Angela down to the little outdoor food stall. It felt absolutely wonderful being out in the night air. Even the polluted atmosphere of L.A. felt and smelled like a rose garden. My recovery was unfortunately hindered by the flashes I received of what was happening to Father Hennessey at this time. They continued as John and Angela sat down and ordered some pancakes. For once, I ignored my assignment. My attention remained on Hennessy - what was happening to him was more important right now.

I saw Father Hennessy at the morgue, examining Isabel's body. He discovered the mark of Mammon on her and something… evil happened to him. I figured it was some type of possession. Distant voices began to garble in his head. He became parched, needing to drink anything and everything he could, NOW. He attempted to drink from his flask, but to him it seemed like nothing was coming out. This only made him more thirsty. Hennessy ran out of the morgue, past the guard, and into a liquor store across the street. He began grabbing bottles and trying to drink for them. In reality, he was chugging down more alcohol than his body could safely handle, but in his POV, Hennessy was only swallowing air. In his desperation, he resorted to smashing the necks off bottles, but this did nothing to improve his situation.

Balthazar calmly strolled into the store, eyeing for a second the Hispanic stock boy standing in apparent shock. In my mind, the simple fact that he was there told me he was the perpetrator of Hennessy's suffering. Hennessy and Balthazar passed each other in opposite isles. Hennessy was frantic, while Balthazar was almost curious. Hennessy stumbled and fell to the floor, taking several boxes and bottles with him. Balthazar smiled to himself. Hennessy managed to reach up onto the counter to drag down a container of bottle openers, showering himself in them. He grabbed one and opened it up, exposing the sharp corkscrew. His eyes raised to the heavens. "John…" he moaned, liquid seeping out of his mouth. I knew then for sure what he was doing. He knew he was going to die, but he wanted to leave an important message for Constantine. I winced in anticipation. This wasn't going to be pretty. Hennessy stabbed his left palm with the bottle opener, crying out in pain. He stabbed himself again and again. I knew these weren't random cuts he was making. A bloody pattern was forming in his palm.

From the back of the store, Balthazar watched Hennessey with interest. He sipped from a bottle of spring water, his eyes glowing red. I felt like punching him back to the pit he came from, but there was nothing I could do. I was merely a witness having a vision. It was like watching a film and wanting to kill the onscreen villain.

At last, Hennessey flopped onto his back. Alcohol gurgled up from his mouth. The stock boy was at his side as Father Hennessy took his last breath.

My attention suddenly snapped back to Constantine and Angela, sitting at the little eatery. It was like waking up from a dream and I had to shake my head and blink my eyes a few times to fully come to grips with my surroundings and remember where I was. Angela was sitting on one side of Constantine, I was on the other. I could smell eggs cooking on the grill. John was explaining to Angela his history in a nutshell, who was listening raptly. I didn't mind too much that Constantine was physically blocking me as he explained everything to Angela. It was rude, but I knew the story already. As he spoke, more flashes went through my mind, each one more unpleasant than the last. I couldn't block them any more than Constantine could block the memories.

"When I was a kid," Constantine said, pouring maple syrup on his pancakes. "I could see things. Things humans aren't supposed to see."

A young John Constantine was sitting on a bus. He was terrified of something, and was trembling, whimpering, his eyes wide. His panicked breathing was quick and shallow. He was staring at a white-haired woman sitting a few rows ahead of him.

"Things you shouldn't have to see."

I whole heartily agreed with him.

The woman turned, her face dissolving away grotesquely. John shut his eyes tightly, willing the monster to go away. When he dared to look again, the woman was gone. Then he gasped in horror as she appeared directly behind him…

"My parents were normal," Constantine continued. "They did what most parents would do. They made it worse."

A teenage John with long hair is held down on a table while a doctor delivers the electric shock to the brain…

I cringed and bit my lip. "They didn't know better," I murmured to myself. If my assignment heard me, he paid no notice. "They were scared and didn't know what to do. Even still…I don't think anyone deserves shock treatment."

"You think you're crazy long enough," Constantine said, looking at Angela. "You find a way out."

Teenage Constantine lying pale and motionless in an ambulance…

"You tried to kill yourself," Angela guessed.

"I didn't try anything."

The ambulance raced through the streets of Los Angeles…which became the streets of Los Angeles in Hell…

"Officially, I was dead for two minutes," Constantine told us. "But when you cross over, time stops." He paused, remembering the pain of damnation. I wanted to comfort him, but I felt that I couldn't. Although part of him may have wanted it, I knew that Constantine wouldn't accept it. I sighed heavily and Constantine continued. "Take it from me, two minutes in Hell is a lifetime. When I came back…" he paused, his fork playing with what was left of the pancakes. "…I knew…all the things I could see were real. Heaven and Hell were right here. Behind every wall, every window." His eyes scanned the people walking past, assessing them for what they really were. Where they really came from. "The world behind the world, and we're smack in the middle. Angels and demons can't cross over onto out plane. So instead we get what I call half-breeds."

I received another sudden vision. Balthazar slowly stalking the aisles of the liquor store…

"The influence peddlers," Constantine explained. I heard his voice though my mind was across town. "They can only whisper in our ears, but a single word can give you courage or turn your favourite pleasure into your worst nightmare. Those with the demon's touch…"

Balthazar turned, his human skin dissolving to reveal the foul thing underneath…

"Like those part angel…"

The stock boy, still kneeling beside Hennessy's body, spread his angel wings protectively, warding the demon away from Hennessy's soul.

"…living alongside us. They call it the balance. I call it hypocritical bullshit," Constantine said. He poked at his food with his fork, his appetite waning. Angela sipped her drink thoughtfully. "So when a half-breed breaks the rules, I deport their sorry ass straight back to Hell. I don't get them all, but I've been hoping to get enough to ensure my retirement."

I smirked and cracked my knuckles. 'Retirement.' Interesting word to use, I thought.

"I don't understand," Angela said.

Constantine picked up his Styrofoam cup of coffee and looked at her. "I'm a suicide, Angela. When I die, the rules say I've got just one place to go."

"You're trying to buy your way into Heaven," Angela concluded.

"What would you do if you were sentenced to a prison where half the inmates were put there by you?"

It was a good analogy for Constantine's situation. He was particularly hated in the underworld, and the demons wouldn't hesitate to replicate ten fold the pain he had caused them.

Angela considered this for a moment. "I guess God has a plan for all of us."

That didn't fly with Constantine. "God's a kid with an ant farm, lady. He's not planning anything."

"When we were little," Angela said. "Isabel saw things too."

A small smile appeared on my face. Finally a bit of useful information had come out of her. It wasn't much, but for now it was possibly enough. I knew it would still be a while before she confessed everything to Constantine.

Angela might have said more, but at that moment, her phone rang. I felt a chill, knowing what the call was going to be about. She fished her phone out of her bag and answered it. "Dodson..."

Things were just as I had suspected. Angela was called in to investigate a case of a man who had broken into the morgue, then a bottle shop. Now he was lying dead on the floor. I told Constantine that he should go with her and he did without argument.

The scene at the shop was possibly more horrible in real life than it had been in my mind. Hennessey's corpse lay in the middle of the floor. There was broken glass and liquid spilled everywhere. A pack of cop cars were stationed out front. Constantine and I paused outside the store, eyeing the half-breed angel being interviewed by the police. I heard Detective Weiss describe what had happened to Angela as she circled the body.

"Guard spotted him groping the body, then he ran across the street. Came in here, and he had a go at the entire stock. He drowned himself in alcohol in under a minute." He shook his head sadly. "Could have been a member of my fraternity."

That's when Constantine and I walked in. The air smelt very strongly of booze, blood and a faint whiff of sulphur. John saw his friend's body and seemed to sag, but only a small bit. Weiss glared at Constantine. "Hey, what the hell is he doing here?" he demanded Angela.

"He's okay," she assured him. She was watching Constantine's body language and guessed he had a relationship with the deceased.

Constantine knelt down beside Hennessy and found the amulet he had stuffed into one of his pockets. I could tell what he was thinking. "Maybe if I had let him wear this, this wouldn't have happened." He looked at Hennessy's prone face and asked quietly, "Why didn't you call me, you son of a bitch?"

I sighed sadly. Hennessy had been a good guy. I knew in my heart he was in a much better place now though, a place my assignment might not get to see.

Constantine went to put the amulet into his own pocket when he spotted Hennessy's bloody hand. "You should check that out," I advised him. He got up, stepped over to some spilled ice and picked up a cube from the floor. Using the melting ice water, he gently washed away the dried blood from Hennessey's palm. I looked up and saw Weiss look away in disgust, but Angela was watching him curiously. Constantine discarded the ice cube and took out a handkerchief from his pocket. He pressed it to Hennessy's hand, and when he pulled it away the remaining blood had stained a noticeable symbol into the fabric. It looked like a cross with a circle around the point where the two bars met. I instantly recognised it. The same symbol had been supernaturally burned into Isabel's and Manuel's wrist.

"Isabel had the same symbol," I told Constantine. "It was when Hennessey touched it that he became possessed and started this… rampage." I gazed sadly around the store and subconsciously hugged my arms around myself, as if to ward off a chill.

Constantine asked Angela if he could use her phone. She gave it to him and he called Beeman to break the bad news, and to get him to work researching the symbol. Then he hung up and looked at Angela.

"You know where the next stop is," I said. I didn't want to hang around this location any more than necessary.

"I need to see where Isabel died," Constantine informed Angela.