Notes: I am so sorry for not updating for so long, but I have had the worst dry streak of my life. It took seeing Constantine again to give me a few ideas. Maybe I'll even start writing longer chapters from now on…yeah right.

Comments and suggestions welcome. And about editing…I'll get to it. Just ignore any problems unless they're glaring. I mean, come on…what do you care more about? The story, or the grammar, spelling, punctuation, run-on sentences, mistyped words…we all know you want to know what's in the box. I'll trust you'll ignore the rest.

All in All

By

Aamon

"Fuck me!" Constantine swore, earning a reproving glare from the fallen Half-Breed.

"Now John, such language in front of a man of the cloth," Gabriel said with an exaggerated pout.

"A man? I always wondered," Constantine said.

"Well…a little more than that," Gabriel said, and motioned for them to follow him into the church.

"Is it safe?" Angela asked, still clinging to him. It was not lost on her how close she had come to loosing him.

"Safe enough. Even Gabriel wouldn't do anything in a church. Outside perhaps, but not inside," John said, removing his sunglasses and stuffing them in his pocket before wrapping an arm around her and leading her toward the door. "But just to be safe, take off the safety."

Her hand drifted to the gun, secure in its holster, making sure it was still there. Whether or not it would do any good was something she wasn't looking forward to discovering. She had shot too many. Whether at the behest of God or not, she had shot too many.

They followed Gabriel into the side entrance, which was heavily shaded and dirty from years of neglect. Overhead lights were all extinguished, but the hall quickly ended into the main body of the church. Though old and almost in disrepair, the church still had its stained glass windows and impressive frescos. Hand painted murals adorned the vaulted ceilings above. Several patrons sat quietly in the church, praying or sitting, or in the case of one man at the back, nervously fingering a rosary. He wore thick rimmed glasses and looked to have been through Hell.

"Mr. Dreadson I presume," John said when they neared.

"Mr. Constantine? Is it here? Can you see it anywhere?" the man looked around nervously, gazing at every reflecting surface.

"It's gone. It was waiting for me in the alleyway. It won't be bothering you again," John said, then turned to Gabriel. "You told him to call."

"I thought you would be the best to handle it," Gabriel said with a slight smile.

"How did it get here? I thought Mammon's influence was…dealt with."

Gabriel shook his head. "When Lucifer pulled Memmon back, he did nothing about the demons Memmon had blessed. It is only with his blessing that a low demon can cross over. I have no idea how many there are, but I'm sure they'll be coming after the both of you."

"What about you?" John asked with a half smile.

"John, come now…who do you think first taught men how to deport demons? I know tricks even you don't know. But, for the moment, I am forbidden to act on my knowledge. I can only point the way to others."

John laughed. "You're falling back on your old ways."

"It is my choice. I've learned, working here, that man's greatest adversary is life itself. It was something I couldn't see before," Gabriel said, and looked to Angela. "I hope we can be friends."

"Don't count on it," Angela said.

Gabriel smiled. "I can always hope. But in the mean time, Rome has sent some gifts," he said, pulling a key out with a small tag on it. "Down the hall we came in, last door on the left," he said, and tossed the key, which was on a rosary along with a cross, to John. "May God go with you."

John and Angela made to turn, but Dreadson stood. "Thank you. If there's ever anything you need, just contact me," he said, and fumbled for his card. He handed it to Angela, who took a glance at it.

"You're an assistant to the Mayor?" she asked.

"Yes…clerical, but we're old friend. Same neighborhood as kids," he said, still shaking somewhat. John tugged her lightly toward the hall. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned close to him. "I know him from somewhere…somewhere else."

"Anything else on him?" he asked. Though he didn't like to admit it, Angela was a more powerful psychic than he was, and much more sensitive to demons and half-breeds. She was still inexperienced, but she was learning. Being a cop and having to trust her gut made it a little easier to accept that what she thought was her gut was actually her senses.

"He seemed to still be nervous about something," she said as they went down the hallway to the last door on the left. It was a heavier door, iron with large round bolts. He unlocked the door and yanked it open.

"When Rome sends a gift…why can't it just be a check," he said, walking in. Angela followed, and stopped dead in her tracks. In the room were tables lined with crosses, ampules of water, glass cases with relics inside, and a host of things she couldn't identify. There were also books, many books lining the room.

"This is…amazing," she said as she exhaled a held breath. John was walking among the tables, studying what was there.

"I wonder how much Papa would give for some of this…"

"John!" Angela said warningly.

"About all some of this stuff is good for," John said, holding up a small vial. "St. Bridget's pinkie finger…yeah, that'll help," he said, and made to throw it over his shoulder. Angela's hand shot out and snatched it out of his grasp…and she nearly tugged his hand off his arm. There was a cord attached to the ampule which John had slipped over his wrist. Grinning down at her, she narrowed her eyes.

"I suppose you think that's terribly funny."

He shrugged. "You're cute when you're furious."

"I have a gun John," she said, matter-of-factly.

"I'm more interested in the cuffs."

She felt her face turn red, but more from having this embarrassing of a discussion in a church. No matter that they were surrounded by implements designed to send demons back to hell in the span of a humming bird's heartbeat, it just didn't feel right to talk about such a thing in a church.

John picked up on her musings, unwrapped the relic's cord from his wrist, and slipped it over her head. "You keep it."

"I thought you said it wouldn't do any good."

Shrugging, he turned to another table. There were six vials of Dragon's Breath, and plenty of blessed gold rounds for his Jesus Gun. Maybe this haul wouldn't be as worthless as he thought.

After picking a few items and loading them into her car, they locked the door securely and John etched some protective symbols into the frame around the door. They loaded up the SUV, and John caught site of the crucifix he had dropped before. He had forgotten all about it. Walking over to it, he realized something.

"Did you smell any sulfur?"

"What?" Angela called from the car, which was half way down the alley.

"Did you smell any sulfur?"

"No, I didn't," she thought to him.

"Neither did I. Even in water, even vanquished like this, there should be sulfur. Something's wrong."

He rushed back to the car and climbed in. Angela put it in drive and headed down the alley, her senses extending outward. Near the end of the alleyway there were several garbage bins. She hit the brakes before getting to them.

"What?" John asked, rubbing at his chest from where the strap had just dug in.

"We shouldn't go out this way," she said, feeling something wrong about the bins. She put the SUV in reverse and carefully made her way backwards and out to the street, then drove on several blocks at high speed before slowing.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" John asked.

"The bins at the end of the alleyway didn't feel right. There was something…something there. I don't know what it was though."

He nodded, his face grim and still as she drove on. He had felt nothing at the time. Was it nerves, or something waiting? By the time they reached his apartment, he hadn't come up with any answers.

"John, do you really want to keep this apartment?" Angela asked all of a sudden as they got out of the SUV.

"It isn't that bad."

"But you'll move into mine, right?" she asked, hopeful.

"Provided I can demon proof it, yeah. But we should keep this place for storage…and some of the things I have shouldn't be in your apartment."

She understood the meaning even without sensing the heavy weight those words had for him. He had lost two close friends, and for one, this place was all the remembrance he had.

Silently the items they had brought with them were taken inside, though John left three vials of holy water in the glove compartment. Once inside, Angela took off her coat and the box Papa Midnight had sent them fell out onto the floor.

"Geese, you brought that?"

"It felt right at the time," she said, glancing at her watch. "Not until midnight, right?"

"Right," he said, grabbing a piece of silk and using it to pick up the box. He set it on the counter, then turned toward his bathroom, shedding cloths as he went. Angela shook her head and picked up what he had dropped.

"I guess I'm not the only one who has a lot to learn," she said, dumping his cloths in the laundry basket she had gotten for him. It looked brand new, never used, and likely hadn't been. Then, on an impulse, she undressed and joined him in the shower. At least she hadn't broken that.

Ok, still short. I'll try to make the next one longer.

What's in the box? It doesn't take batteries and it isn't blue.