AN/ Thanks again to the reviewers. Hope you all like this chapter.
John and I were standing on a narrow balcony gazing out over the city. There was no proper door leading out, so we had to climb through an open window instead. We watched as an ambulance and a few police cars zoomed as fast as they could down the street, their sirens wailing mournfully. We knew that ambulance carried Beeman's body. I had been trying of think of something to say, though nothing was easily coming to mind. Constantine filled the silence himself after a while.
"You knew that was going to happen," he accused me, puffing ona cigarette.
I couldn't look at him. "Yes."
"And you couldn't warn me? Couldn't stop it happening to him? Or to Hennessy?" Constantine sounded rightfully pissed.
"No, John, I couldn't. I'm not allowed to."
"Bullshit," he snapped.
My eyes met his. I could feel power spawned from my frustration growing behind them and radiating towards him. "It's the truth! Believe me, if I could, I would have stopped it from happening! But I couldn't. I couldn't any more than you could."
Constantine finished his smoke and flicked the butt to the street below.
I sighed and softened my tone. "I think his soul would have gone up," I said quietly as John turned to go back in. His dark eyes met mine briefly.
"Or he could still be waiting around here, wondering why I didn't arrive fast enough to help him," he muttered.
I frowned sadly and started to follow him back into the apartment. He stopped just on the other side of the frame, looking at someone. I could make out Angela's voice. "It wasn't just Isabel," she said. I managed to squeeze past behind Constantine and saw her standing before him. "I used to see things too," she admitted. Neither of us were surprised. Constantine sighed, glancing back out the window. Angela studied him, her eyes emotional. "But…you already knew that, didn't you?"
"Go home, Angela," John told her. He turned to close the wooden slats over the window.
"I need to understand," Angela insisted.
John looked at her. "You don't wanna know what's out there, trust me." He closed the slats over the window, slamming them to make sure they were secure.
Once again, Angela proved her stubbornness. "I'm stronger than Isabel."
"Your sister embraced her gift. You denied yours," John said. Angela shook her head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears. "Denial is a better idea. It's why you're still alive. Stick with me, that'll change. I don't need another ghost following me around." He turned and began to walk away. I remained rooted to the spot.
Angela stepped forward, persistent. "John, they killed my sister." She took some deep breaths, considering the seriousness of what she was about to say, and decided she meant it. "I'd trade places with her if I could."
That made John stop. I found myself having to move a few steps towards him so I could clearly see both of them. He turned slowly.
"I used to pretend that I didn't," Angela continued. "That I didn't see things." John looked away. He would have tried that too when he was young. What Angela was saying was really hitting home with him. She took a few steps closer.
"By the time we were ten, they started forcing her to take…" she wringed her hands and adverted her eyes at the distressing memory. John looked at her sympathetically. "…antipsychotics and have treatments and they would come for her and she'd look at me and she'd say to me 'Tell them.'" Her voice changed slightly, mimicking how Isabel would have sounded. "'Why don't…why don't you tell them, Angie that you can see them too?' But I lied. I said: 'I don't see anything.' Until one day," she swallowed. "I finally stopped seeing."
There was a heavy pause. Constantine was still listening to her, understanding what she had been through. "I abandoned her, John," Angela said softly. "I left her all alone." She took a few more steps forward, closing the gap between him and her. Her eyes were very moist now. "I need to see what she saw," she requested. She took a breath. "Please," she added quietly.
Constantine considered this. He knew that she was serious, she wasn't kidding around. She wanted to go to Hell to see her sister, but would she be able to handle it? We both knew the experience was a horrible one, the stuff of nightmares. Why anyone would want to go there…but Angela had a valid reason, I suppose.
"You do this, there's no turning back." John said softly. He took a single step towards her. "You see them, they see you." I knew he was talking about the demons. "Understand?"
"Yeah," Angela said, a single tear falling down her cheek.
John looked into her eyes for a while, then looked down. When he looked back at her, his mind was decided. "Sure." He turned and walked into the bathroom. Angela didn't follow him right away. I saw her sigh, more tears running down her face.
I walked into the bathroom and approached John. He was beginning to fill the old bathtub. "You do know what you're going to have to do to her in order to make her go," I said quietly. John nodded. I sighed. "I'd help you, but I'd just pass right through her. I might be able to help find the right psychic vibrations though."
"That's okay," John whispered to me.
Angela had composed herself now. She walked in and sat on a chair by the door, waiting. When John thought the tub was full enough, he turned off the water. He was sitting on the rim of the tub, and looked atAngela as she stood. She walked up to him and he stood as well, adjusting his belt. Angela guessed correctly that she would have to get in the water. She took her bag, wondered what to do with it for a moment, then tossed it back onto her chair. John held out his hands for her badge and gun. She hesitated a second before handing them over. Then she removed her sweater as John transferred the gun into his other hand to take it.
"So, do I have to take the rest of my clothes off, or can I leave them on?" Angela asked nervously, handing him the sweater.
John didn't say anything. I started to smile. In his own way, he was trying to put her at ease. It was a bloody odd way of doing it, but it worked to some small degree. John looked at Angela, not meeting her eyes. He appeared to be weighing up his options, wondering if he would get away with it.
"John?"
"I'm thinking," he responded.
Angela also began to smile as mine widened into a grin. "John?"
"On is fine," he assured her, a glimmer of amusement in his face. He walked over to a far corner and deposited her belongings where they would be safe. Angela carefully stepped into the bathtub. She pushed her hair back behind her ear. I could tell she was scared. She began talking, asking questions as a method to keep herself from freaking out entirely.
"So, why water?"
"It's a universal conduit," John explained, rolling up his sleeves. "Lubricates the transition from one plane to another." John also knew what Angela was trying to do to keep herself clam. "Now ask me if there's water in Hell."
"Is there water in Hell?" she asked with a shadow of a smile.
Constantine didn't answer her, instead he told her to "Sit." He took a few steps to the right, knowing that her head would be down at that end of the tub. "Normally only a portion of the body has to be submerged," he continued, using the voice of experience. He knelt by the tub as she sat in the lukewarm water. I shivered slightly. She wouldn't have been comfortable, not that she would care about how warm or cold the water was in a moment. "But, you wanted the crash course."
"Yeah, I wanted the crash course," Angela breathed, clutching the rim. Her knuckles turned white. "So, um… so, what's going to happen?" She looked at John inquiringly.
He and I knew it couldn't be explained, so he didn't bother. How do you say, 'I'm doing to drown you so you go to Hell' and make it sound okay?
"Lie down," John instructed quietly.
She looked around, slightly confused. Wasn't she submerged enough? "What do you mean lie down?"
"You have to be fully submerged," John clarified.
Here was the decisive moment when Angela could have said 'no,' gotten up, grabbed her stuff, and got out of there. But she didn't. She decided to trust him. "For how long?" she asked.
"As long as it takes," he replied. She nodded and he placed a hand on the back of her neck, ready to support her. I suspected he would be able to feel her racing pulse. She got ready to lower her head into the water, breathing hard to calm her nerves. "Take a deep one," John advised.
She did, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink to the bottom of the tub. John placed a hand on her chest over her collar bone as he took his other hand away. We watched as bubbles rose out of her nose. I subconsciously licked the roof of my mouth, remembering the uncomfortable feeling of water going up my nose. After a moment, Angela opened her eyes and looked up at Constantine through the water. I knew that he was using his psychic energy, transferring it to her through the contact of his hand on her flesh to help her find the right vibrations. I placed my hand on John's shoulder and sent my own powers through them to help the process along.
For a minute or so, nothing happened. Angela blinked under water and curled her hands into loose fists. John was solid as a rock, waiting for the inevitable. I noticed a cute little rubber ducky sitting cheerily on the rim of the bath tub. My mouth quirked into a tiny smile. It was the last thing I'd expect to find in John Constantine's bathroom.
Angela's lungs began to tell her that she was running out of air. She raised her head slightly, but couldn't get up any further than that because Constantine was still holding her under. She looked at him questionably and tried to get up again. John didn't move. I braced myself as Angela began to panic. She grabbed his arm and tried to push him off, but he just pressed harder. Angela flailed, splashing water as she became more desperate for air. She tried grabbing at his shirt, shoulders and tie to pull herself up. He was forced to use his other hand to help hold her down. I pressed on Constantine's back to help keep him steady and also to assist him in helping her open the gateway.
I could feel time slowing. I looked to the faucet on the tub. There was a drop of water about to fall from it. I held my breath. The drop fell, paused in midair…
…then splashed into the bath water.
Angela erupted out of the tub. The thick porcelain side broke apart from the force of her re-entry onto our plane. Water flooded the bathroom floor. The force of it knocked John and I onto our backs. I cursed loudly as I landed on a large piece of shattered porcelain. I scrambled up as quickly as I could, slipping on the wet floor. I chose to lean against the chair by the door. Angela was gasping for air, her body steaming. John was also catching his breath from his exertions in keeping Angela underwater and sending her to and from Hell.
"Oh God," Angela gasped. She was trembling uncontrollably. "Oh God, all those people." Constantine sat up and put his hand over his eyes, pressing against the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Isabel. I've always known," Angela continued. She wasn't talking to Constantine. I could feel her long-dormant psychic power re-assert itself. "I've always known where they are. I've always known where to find them. Where to aim and where to duck…" She was talking about her uncanny ability as a cop to find and kill the bad guys. Her voice was marked by gasps as she slowly lifted herself up into a sitting position. "…and I've always known where they were. I've always know that it wasn't luck." Constantine looked at her, hearing this for the first time. Angela's voice was growing softer and softer. "Always know it wasn't luck. I've always known…I've always known that I could see. I've always known that I could see."
Angela's eyes had grown distant. He lifted her left hand, and made finger motions almost like she was rolling a coin. Constantine leaned towards her. I stood up in preparation. "Angela," John said.
"Someone was here." Angela's voice sounded detached from her body. She was still for another moment, then her hand slapped onto the floor and she was on her feet. She slipped and fell once on the wet tiles, then sprinted through the apartment with John and I right behind her. We ran down to the bowling ally, Angela using her newly-asserted powers to guide her back to where we had found Beeman.
Along the way, I managed to get near enough to John to say "She knows who attacked Hennessey and Beeman." John's jaw tightened at this news.
Angela stopped just before she reached Beeman's chair, the vacant look still in her eyes. She started to walk slowly forwards. John and I were hanging on her every word, her voice echoing in the space.
"It was his. Rolling. Not a ball. Something smaller. Shiny." She got down on her knees, gasping. She reached her fingers down through the grill that served as the floor. There was a small clink of metal on metal as she brought up an ancient gold coin. She began rolling it back and fourth over her fingers, turning towards Constantine. He and I both recognised the behaviour and knew exactly who it was connected with.
"Balthazar," Constantine spat. I felt an angry growl grow in my throat. John gently stopped the rolling coin balanced on Angela's fingers. She looked up at him, her eyes no longer vacant.