Disclaimer: I own nothing but a hoard of occult books, some sketchy plants, and various farm animals. I'm not making any money from this; I simply wanted to bring some darker Chastine fic into the world. M/M mature content, if you didn't get that from chapter one.
Author's Notes: I would just like to throw out this idea: watch John's and Chas' thoughts. I know they're not always clearly marked, but a lot of storyline details pertaining to their relationship are subjective to them. We only know what John and Chas think they know about themselves and each other, and they aren't always correct. Not to make you all paranoid about details, and not just to cover my ass about continuity, but just something to think about. 'Cause it's what I'm thinking about, lol.
Chapter Three
"Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere..."
- Tears for Fears ("Mad World")
John awoke to a dull ache that seemed to pervade every aspect of his being. Climbing out of bed was a laborious task; he heard his bones creak in protest at the movement. The magician rubbed at his eyes wearily and began composing a dozen good excuses for just saying "Fuck it," and staying in bed the rest of the day. He'd reached number seven, "It's not as if anything good will come of getting up," when he caught a whiff of coffee. He could just barely hear muffled voices coming from his kitchen. Which was... odd.
Senses tingling, and suddenly far more awake than he really wanted to be, John strode towards the sounds, a defensive spell beginning to coalesce in the back of his mind. Before he could form it completely, shape it into a coherent package and send it off into the world to work his will, he'd stepped into the kitchen and found Chas and Midnite sitting at the table. Early morning sunshine bathed the whole room in a glow that was, to John's suffering eyes, entirely unnecessary.
"Oh, you're awake," Chas began.
"Yes," John answered, looking at Midnite. "How did you get in here?"
"Chas let me in," the witchdoctor replied smoothly, picking up his coffee cup with his heavily-ringed fingers and taking a sip.
"Through my wards?" John snapped, indignant. This was his flat, goddamnit, and no one was getting in without his letting them. It was his area to control, an extension of his mind. To have anyone just wander in, or worse, mess with the warding spells, was a huge violation of not only his space but his being. And of course Midnite knew this. The man was smiling as he looked up at him, but John rounded on Chas, furious.
"How dare you open wards to my home without my permission? This is my home, not yours, Chas. I've half a mind to throw you the hell out of here, you stupid -"
"Constantine." Midnite's voice interjected, soft but laden with power. John paused, knowing Midnite was working something on him. He felt himself relaxing and fought against it.
"Calm down, John. The boy didn't mean anything by it. I met him at the shop and came back here with him. I'd say he left the wards open a bit, so he could let himself back in."
John refused. "He knows better. I taught him better. Just because I'm checking out in a few we- a few months doesn't mean the place is his already." John stopped abruptly, trying to think of a way to deny what his outburst implied. A lot of his belongings would go to Chas; it wasn't as though his sister or niece would appreciate vials of dragon's blood or 8th century holy relics or a cursed Templar pentagram or...
Damn, it's too early for this, John thought, grabbing the coffee nearest him and taking a huge gulp. It burnt all the way down. Grimacing, he risked a glance at Chas, who as of yet hadn't tried to hide under the table. A good sign.
"We have work today. Get the gear and wait in the cab. I'll be down in ten minutes." No point in showering before an exorcism.
Chas was up in an instant, as though he couldn't bear to be in the room any longer. John heard him grab the bag of exorcism supplies and a few books from the living room and then felt him leave the flat. He barely made a ripple as he passed through the wards.
Midnite noticed too. "Impressive. I can't think of any other teenager who could do that."
"What? Piss me off so quickly?" John growled, knowing full well what Midnite had meant.
"He's talented, John, and more ambitious than you realize. You should let him help you out more, before he starts to think you're holding him back."
"It's not safe. You know that."
Midnite snorted, grinning at John.
The magician rolled his eyes. "Not now."
"Then when? Is he going to get a crash course that begins as soon as you're buried, John? When people start coming to him for help? Any scores you haven't settled, any debts you haven't paid off, any old grudges or feuds: these are all going to be dumped into Chas' lap, and you've got to prepare him."
"He'll be capable."
"You say that, but does Chas know? I don't doubt his abilities, but how will he know what he can do unless he's tried? When you were his age-"
"When I was his age I'd almost died a hundred times over from my own stupidity. I was utterly thrilled to make my first magical enemies, meet witches and demons and ghosts. I had no sense whatsoever, and I wouldn't wish those experiences on anyone. Especially not Chas. He's..." John gestured, looking for a word to describe his apprentice. Midnite caught his eye and laughed.
"More like, you're..." he waved a hand.
The magician frowned, but Midnite continued. "You can't protect him forever, John. And the sooner you stop trying to, the better it will be for Chas."
John didn't answer, and Midnite didn't press the matter. He pulled a crumpled strip of paper from one of his many pockets and stood up.
"There's your address. It's on Belgrave road. Should be easy to find; Chas will know the way. Let him help."
John glowered. Midnite gracefully sauntered to the door and paused to let John open the wards. Polite of him, John thought bitterly.
"He re-wrote your wards as easy as breathing, John. That's something."
"Yeah. Annoying."
Midnite laughed. "And how many seventeen-year old boys do you know who drive licensed cabs? Especially with insurance rates the way they are. A company would have to be crazy to hire one on. And yet..."
"And yet..." John glanced upwards in an ironic appeal for help, knowing it would never appear. "Goodbye, Midnite."
"Goodbye. Oh, and John..."
"Yeah?"
"Let go."
The witchdoctor left, the lingering scent of cinnamon and clove the only trace of his presence. John gazed at the door for another minute before lighting a cigarette and wandering back to his room to dress.
The awkward silence in the cab gave Chas a sense of deja-vu. John sat slumped in the back seat, idly flicking through his set of metallic banishing talismans. The constant dull clink as they clicked against each other was beginning to grate on Chas' nerves. He decided to risk speaking, making sure that he didn't look at John. Being looked at seemed to tick John off these days; well, that and everything else.
"I'm sorry about the wards, John," he ventured softly, lifting up his hat to brush his hair away from his eyes.
"Hmm." The exorcist grunted in response, holding one of the key-like talismans up to the light and checking its pattern. With his other hand John kept a small book open on his lap, the sigils on its pages matching those etched in the metal.
"I mean, I didn't think that you would take it as a violation of your space." Chas would've rambled on but stopped himself, barely. Get a hold of yourself, Chas, he admonished. Don't babble like an idiot. No wonder he doesn't take you anywhere.
"It's fine, Chas," came the murmured response from behind him. The boy could feel John looking at him; feel the gaze burning onto his skin, pressing into it, searching out his every intention. Chas adjusted his hat and cleared his throat self-consciously, wondering if he could disappear under the steering wheel. He clutched at the gearshift, knocked the cab out of gear, and blushed bright red to hear John chuckle behind him.
"Easy there."
"God, John, have you thought about getting medication for those mood swings of yours?"
"Ah, there's the attitude back. Decided you're not scared of me after all, huh?"
"Don't answer a question with a question, John. What's the address again? It would've been faster to take the tube."
"Tube's too warm. Stale air hurts my lungs. The place is just up here on Belgrave."
Chas was cheered momentarily by John's uplifted mood. He feels better when he's being useful, Chas realized, pulling up at the address. Eight stories of grayish stone loomed up from the pavement, and false marble pillars framed a faded door that could've used a fresh coat of red paint.
John was out of the car before Chas could ask to come with him. He didn't say no, though, so Chas followed after the magician, catching up to the man and taking the bag of gear away from him. John relinquished it without protest, pausing to light a cigarette. He glanced at Chas once but said nothing, and the teen opened up a bit, trying to read the other man.
John was in pain, Chas knew; the magician's aura was a haze of dull reds and rust tones. The cancer squatted darkly in his chest, gleaming like asphalt on a hot day. It had to hurt, had to be suffocating him. Chas fought down the urge to reach out and try to soothe him. John caught the teen's glance and frowned at him, and Chas quickly pulled his mind away.
"There are other uses for that, Chas. Have a look at where we're going."
A test, Chas knew at once. He let his consciousness pool out a bit, let his mind seep into the air and pavement and dust around him. He found his breathing, steadied it; felt John standing beside him, the magician's breathing a slow rasp. Three starlings flew overhead; their lives lived at a higher speed than his own. A nearby tree released a hundred thousand molecules of pollen. He was surrounded by people everywhere; breathing, living, dying. Beneath his feet, under the pavement and worm-riddled earth there were miles of tunnels, and people and rats and fleas moved along them. Above him, the sky stretched forever. For a moment the world was too much, too present in his head, threatening to overwhelm him with the sheer vastness of everything.
But it lasted only a moment, as it always did. Chas got himself back under his own control, got his mind out of everything and back into focus. And this was only one world, he reminded himself, there were an untold number more, lurking behind and under and above and between. Focus, Chas! The teen breathed out and began again. He let his mind follow footprints and perfumes into the building in front of him, where he could feel the demon lurking, as much a blight on this space as the cancer was in John's lungs.
"Third floor, corner flat. The man who contacted Midnite is heading towards us, as well."
John nodded, flicking ash off his cigarette. "Not bad."
Chas beamed.
The exorcism was a mess, but that was only to be expected. It wasn't as though he'd ever gotten through the complete ritual without being vomited on or bled on, or some combination of the two. Chas had withstood the mess with a calm steadfastness that was quite admirable for his first time, and John had to admit to himself that the boy's centeredness and stability had helped more than he would ever let on.
There'd been moments in that stifling room where he'd been convinced that he'd pass out due to an unfortunate combination of exhaustion, heat, and illness, but he'd managed. With Chas' help. The teen had been a steady presence at his elbow, handing him talismans, ritual implements, and holy water before he'd even had to ask for them. Hell, Chas knew the entire rite, including the Latin, as well as he did. Whether or not he could effectively use what he'd learned by himself remained to be seen.
John finished his musings and headed out of the building, his meagre payment tucked into his pocket. The noonday sun beat down on him, its harsh white light illuminating the bag of gear placed beside the empty cab. John cursed under his breath. Exorcisms always attracted unwanted attention. A scuffling sound came from the alleyway next to the building, and John quickly headed towards it, lungs starting to burn.
He found Chas backed against the building's stone wall, half hidden behind a filthy dumpster. His hands were at his sides, clenched into fists. John found himself mirroring the gesture.
"Balthazar," he growled.
The tall, tanned half-breed was pressed against Chas, fingers curled lazily around the boy's neck. He caught Chas under the chin, forcing him to tilt his head back and show throat. John watched Chas swallow nervously, his breathing pained and his eyes unreadable. The demon leaned closer, whether to whisper to Chas or to lick his earlobe John couldn't tell. He was so pissed off he could barely see straight.
Balthazar finally deigned to look at John, his red-violet eyes gleaming. "I was wondering when you'd join us, Johnny-boy." He pressed his lean frame harder against the teen. Chas swore.
John fumbled in his pockets for a talisman against the half-breed in front of him. Balthazar was an odd one, often showing up in the areas of London that John frequented the most, but never doing enough damage to warrant being deported back to Hell. That could change today, John thought, and found the talisman that matched the resonance of Balthazar's fiery aura. The intricate sigils responded to the demon's presence, drawing warmth from the exorcist's fingers.
"Get your hands off him. Now."
Balthazar acquiesced, laughing unkindly. "You shouldn't leave your little pet alone in these neighbourhoods, John, especially in your line of work. Some misfortune might befall him." The demon made a show of straightening Chas' hat. "It wouldn't be much of a sacrifice if he'd already been bled out, now would it?"
The exorcist sneered, lifting the sigil-key. "Get out of my sight, asshole."
"Or you'll what, John? Cough blood all over my suit?" Balthazar stepped away from Chas disdainfully. "Tell the boy what it is you have planned for him, exorcist. Tell him what you'll do to him, when you're sick and dizzy and dying. Does he have any idea, John?"
The magician flinched, hearing his own worries paraded out in front of him. He ignored the ache in his chest and started towards Balthazar. The demon laughed and stepped aside, moving away. He smoothed his suit and turned to smile at Chas before slipping into the shadows of the alleyway. Immediately the air around them seemed less oppressive. John pocketed the talisman and headed for the teen.
"Alright, Chas?" John murmured.
"Yeah." His, his, apprentice replied, eyes on the ground.
"No use staying here. Let's go." The magician headed for the cab, thankful that Balthazar hadn't called his bluff. He paused when he didn't hear Chas' footsteps behind him.
"Hey."
"I'm okay," Chas whispered, clearly lying. He leaned against the wall, staring off into space, anything but alright.
"Did he say something to you?"
A pause. "No." Another lie, John thought. He closed the distance between them but Chas flinched away.
"Chas." John ignored the coughing fit he felt beginning in his chest. He stepped on every impatient thought that came into his head, demanding that he simply haul Chas back to the cab. The magician leaned closer, gently catching Chas under the chin to make him lift his eyes, realizing a second too late that Balthazar had done the same thing.
Chas froze.
"Chas," John repeated. "Look at me." Look.
Chas refused, ignoring both the words and the impulse. "What did he say, Chas?"
"Nothing."
"Bullshit. The First Himself couldn't shut that one up."
"It's nothing, John. Sorry. C'mon, let's go, you look exhausted." Chas' words came in a rush. He gently pushed past John and headed for the cab.
John grabbed the teen's shoulder as he passed and swung him around, knocking both of them off balance. He staggered to catch himself, barely keeping himself from slamming them both into the wall. As it was, Chas resisted, and John ended up pressed hard against him. Chas swore softly, finding himself knocked into the stone wall for the second time that day.
"What the hell, John?"
"Tell me what he told you."
Chas shook his head, not meeting John's gaze.
"C'mon, Chas," the magician coaxed, wanting to step away but afraid Chas would bolt if he did. The boy was pleasantly warm against him, smelling of the holy incense he'd lit for the exorcism. Sage and sweetgrass and sandalwood, myrrh and frankincense and cedar; John inhaled deeply before he could stop himself.
"Um... John?"
"Yeah?"
Chas relaxed suddenly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against John's shoulder. "He told me how I would die."
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