Disclaimer: I own nothing but a hoard of occult books, some sketchy plants, and vast quantities of Satanic literature. I'm not making any money from this; I simply wanted to bring some darker Chastine fic into the world. Rated M for language, violence, and sexual content. There is non-consensual content in this chapter.
A/N: Um… So we meet again, lol. And I am sorry for the wait; I just could not get this chapter right. It's still not right, but I thought I should update anyway, so people wouldn't think I'd forgotten this fic.
Chapter Seven
Let me wrap myself around you
Let you show me how I see
And when you come back in from nowhere
Do you ever think of me?
- The Killers ("My List")
Chas was not in the cab.
John stood on the pavement, looking at the run-down vehicle, a cigarette raised halfway to his mouth. Chas had left Midnite's office, what, half an hour ago? The street was busy, crowded with traffic. Throngs of pedestrians wandered the sidewalks, weaving around each other in strange patterns that the magician couldn't comprehend. The wind was chill as it whipped around him, and John scanned face after face, searching for a sign. Of what, he wasn't sure.
A moment later, he turned on his heel and rushed back into the club.
All Chas could taste was blood. He gasped and clutched at a chair, trying to haul himself back to his feet. He was dizzy in the presence of Balthazar's fiery aura, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of oppressive, psychic malice that permeated the room. The teen's bottom lip was split where the demon had backhanded him. Chas swallowed inadvertently, giving up on the chair and scrambling backwards across the floor. He staggered to his feet, still trying to put more distance between himself and Balthazar.
The half-breed adjusted the sleeves of his pinstripe suit-jacket, lazily following the teen. He watched Chas flounder, his cruel mouth curved in a thin, vicious smile. The charm he'd cut off the boy lay between them; a fleck of glittering silver on the glossy hardwood floor.
"An interesting enchantment on that one, Chas. Not Johnny's usual work, eh?" Mockery tainted the demon's silky voice, but Chas noted that Balthazar took care to avoid the pentagram. The teen touched his neck, the wound shallow but stinging. Chas' eyes never left the half-breed; he knew he was no match for the demon. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, furious with himself for not being more careful. Balthazar moved closer inexorably, and Chas felt a knot of fear tighten in his chest.
The lanky youth took another step back and bumped into the far wall of the room. He hadn't expected it to be that close. Knowing he was cornered, Chas risked a glance to his left, searching for something that would help. Midnite's club was filled with strange paraphernalia; was it too much to ask that this room contained something useful? Chas' gaze swept over to the bookcase. He'd be satisfied with a letter-opener at this point, so long as he could use it against Balthazar. The teen took a half-step closer to the bookcase, looking back at the demon in time to see the distance closed between them.
Balthazar was on him in a heartbeat, grabbing Chas' arm in an iron-like grip and twisting it harshly behind the boy. Chas yelped and swore. He managed to land a punch with his free hand, but he was off balance and couldn't put his weight into it. Balthazar simply turned away from the blow, wrenching Chas' arm painfully. The demon threw the boy forward, pinning him facedown against the polished table.
"I believe I said that there was no need to make a fuss, Chas," Balthazar hissed in the boy's ear. "There's no need to be so uncivilized." Balthazar seemed far heavier than a man of his build could possibly be, and his grip was hard as steel. Chas thrashed against the demon, but Balthazar simply tightened his grasp on the teen's forearm, threatening to break the bones.
Chas gasped and stopped struggling, trying to think clearly through the demon's influence and his own rising panic. "Get your hands off me, asshole," he blurted, regretting his words when Balthazar chuckled.
"Mouthy, aren't you? John certainly hasn't taught you any manners. But not to worry, I'll be more than happy to do that for him." A tidal wave of diabolic malevolence crashed over the teen, enveloping him completely. It felt like being drowned in scalding water, and for a moment Chas almost begged for mercy, choking back the words just in time. Such a request would be pointless, and he wasn't about to give Balthazar the satisfaction of hearing him ask.
Chas tensed as a cold blade was pressed to his throat. Balthazar relinquished his grip on Chas' arm, lifting his weight off the boy enough that Chas was able to take a deep breath of the sulphur-scented air. A moment later a hand fisted in his hair and dragged him upright. Chas didn't fight this time, mindful of his already wounded neck. The knife worried him; surely the half-breed preferred to take his prey apart with hateful words and damning ideas? Chas exhaled shakily, and the demon smirked at him, pleased with the teen's submission.
"Take off your coat," Balthazar ordered. Chas didn't move. He fought the urge to run, knowing he'd get his throat slit if he did. After half a minute, Balthazar prompted him with the blade, and Chas slowly lifted his hands and tugged off the denim jacket, dropping it to the floor. Balthazar's hand slid out of Chas' hair and moved to the back of the teen's neck, a scalding contrast to the chill of the knife.
"And your shirt, pet." The half-breed was grinning openly now, able to sense the teen's distress. His breath was warm against Chas' ear, and his strange eyes gleamed brightly. Chas fumbled with the shirt's buttons, hating how his fingers trembled. He fought to think clearly, trying to push the rage and fear from his mind. Somehow, he hoped, John would suspect that something was amiss. Chas shrugged off his shirt, tossing it after the jacket. Nausea was starting to swirl in his belly, and he idly wondered what would happen if he puked all over Balthazar's expensive leather shoes.
"Now, put your hands together in front of you, fingers intertwined." Chas found himself obeying the demon's words before he could stop himself. He laced his fingers together, realizing that he was being ensorcelled. He tried to yank his hands apart, but they refused to do so, remaining as close as if he'd been bound. C'mon, he thought, it's just a spell. I only think I can't get my hands apart. It's all in my head. Panic bubbled up inside him, and Chas fought against it, determined to keep his mind even as his hands shook and Balthazar's grip tightened on his throat.
The half-breed smiled at him, showing too many teeth. Chas glared back defiantly. This seemed to amuse Balthazar. He tucked the knife away and slid his free hand over the smooth, pale skin of Chas' chest. Chas flinched, but only a little, and the demon dropped his hand to caress Chas' flat belly. The boy gritted his teeth, hating how his breath hitched at the touch.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" The grip on Chas' throat relaxed as Balthazar seemed to gain more control over John's apprentice. Chas shivered as the warm hands roamed his body, waiting for his chance. He had no idea what Balthazar wanted with him, other than the notion that harming him was a good way to strike at Constantine. Chas didn't know why the demon was bothering, really, if John would be dead before the seasons changed again.
Chas fought down his panic and forced himself to focus. He should run. He should run right now while that knife was out of sight, just haul ass as fast as he could towards the door. Chas looked at his hands, each gripping the other tightly, his knuckles white. It's just a suggestion. My hands are free. Now run! Chas took one step and staggered, feeling as though he was trying to walk through wet cement. It's just a spell. I can run. His legs protested, but the teen pressed on, determined to at least try to get away before Balthazar stopped him.
The half-breed snorted in amusement, gripping Chas' upper arm firmly to hold the teen still. Blunt fingernails were raked down Chas' chest and stomach, leaving angry red welts. The youth twisted away, spitting on the demon and wrenching his arm from his grasp. It hurt, but he was free, for a moment at least. Chas made himself lunge forward again, stumbling as his feet refused to cooperate. He licked his lips and tasted fresh blood, and if that wasn't motivation to run for it, nothing was.
Leaning on a chair for support, he managed to get half-way to the door before Balthazar caught his shoulder. He was thrown against the heavy table again, all the air in his lungs leaving in a whoosh. Chas gasped in pain, trying to curl up around himself. The demon's proximity made him feel as though he was being suffocated by magma. His legs barely held him, and his arms were nearly useless, stretched out on the table in front of him. Where the fuck is John?
"Really, Chas?" Balthazar purred, right in his ear. Chas turned away, his head spinning. The demon was much too close, his aura overwhelming. Balthazar's fingers stroked down his spine, and Chas shivered in revulsion. He had to get out of here. Now. He pushed backwards off the table, shoving himself away from it. His useless legs promptly failed him, and he landed on his back on the floor. The half-breed leered down at him, carefully smoothing his suit.
"Your refusals are beginning to irritate me, pet." He purred softly, red eyes glinting.
"Refusals?" Chas hissed. "Fuck you." He was glad his hands were entwined, so the demon couldn't see them shake. Any time now, John.
"You don't know what you're messing with, Chas." Balthazar stepped closer. "If only you'd listen, you-"
Chas spat at him again, earning himself another hard hit to the face. The half-breed seemed truly angry now, his aura spiking and crackling in the air around him. Balthazar kicked the boy's legs apart, crouching down between them to fumble with Chas' belt. Panic leapt up the apprentice's throat, and Chas bit down on his already bloodied lip to keep from yelping. The teen thrashed and kicked, trying not to sob as Balthazar deftly unbuttoned his jeans and tugged down the zipper.
He lost the battle when an impossibly warm hand slid into his pants, reaching down his boxers to wrap around his sex. Tears brightened his eyes, and he exhaled shakily, wishing fervently that this wasn't happening. Wishing, like wanting, had little effect on reality. Chas clenched his eyes shut, deciding that if he couldn't prevent this, then at least he could retreat into the depths of his mind. He could run far away from this, he decided, deep into his subconscious. Balthazar slapped him.
"Don't go wandering off now, pet." The fingers left his body; Balthazar used both hands to grasp Chas' jeans and pull them down. All the while he murmured to Chas, a soft, vitriolic diatribe that sounded sometimes like English and sometimes like ritualistic Hell-Speak. Chas tried not to listen, thinking instead of attempting to knee the demon in the face. It was hard to focus when every fibre of his being screamed at him to get up and run away. He dug his fingernails into the backs of his hands until he drew blood, hoping his own white-knuckled grip would unlock itself. It didn't. Chas took a ragged, gasping breath and choked on sulphur.
The teen opened his eyes in time to see the knife reappear in Balthazar's hand. He wrenched his body away from the descending blade, not seeing the lustful look on the demon's face change into an angry scowl. A gunshot exploded above him, sounding like it was right in his ear. Warm, cloying mist floated through the air, settling onto the floor and painting it crimson. Balthazar, the blade still lodged in his hand, toppled backwards off of him.
John's voice, sounding tight and enraged, drifted over to him. "Shit. Chas, c'mon. That'll only stop him for a minute or two." The exorcist might've said more, but a coughing fit overtook him. He squatted beside Chas, grabbing the teen's entwined hands and pulling them apart. The exorcist cursed as his gaze swept over the boy's nearly nude form, eyes narrowed in anger.
Chas found himself pulled roughly to his feet, clutching at one of the chairs when John's hands abruptly left him. He could only gaze numbly as the magician swiftly picked up his shirt and jacket, setting them on the table next to the trembling boy. John found the silver charm on the floor, surrounded by spatters of Chas' blood, and carefully picked it up.
Chas felt John's eyes on him as he tugged his jeans up over his hips. He could not get the fly done up. His hands shook too much, and he was humiliated that he'd been so weak. He flinched as four more shots rang out; John adding to the rounds already in Balthazar's body. Where would John have gotten a handgun? Unhallowed, they were next to useless against demons. Chas watched as the older man tucked the weapon into his coat and approached him again, carrying his hat. He could only stare stupidly as John brushed his hands away and buttoned his jeans for him. And that, more than anything, made him want to weep.
To say that John was pissed off would be like saying the ocean was wet. The magician could barely see straight as he propelled Chas out to the cab, commandeering one of Midnite's bar staff to drive them home. Balthazar had started to move as they'd left the boardroom, and John had emptied the last of his clip into the demon's head. It wouldn't kill the half-breed, but that didn't matter. John would see to that later.
Chas was his main concern at the moment. He hadn't said a word since John had found him, and had done little more than allow himself to be pushed into the back of his own cab. John climbed in beside him, his lungs aching painfully, and snarled out the directions to his flat. The bartender, a thin woman with perfect mocha skin, rolled her eyes and stepped on the gas.
The drive was silent for the most part, with John able to suppress the worst of his coughing fits. He watched Chas uneasily, rage rising like bile in his throat. The teen was curled up on the seat, his arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes, barely focused, were looking out the window. John wondered if Chas wasn't talking because of the stranger's presence, or simply because he couldn't, right now. When they reached John's building, the exorcist thrust enough cash at the woman to get her a cab back to Midnite's and tugged Chas after him through the door.
Miraculously, the lift was back in order, and John strode towards it quickly, one hand locked around Chas' upper arm. There was no way he would've been able to get the both of them up all those flights of stairs. A minute later he shoved Chas into his flat and slammed the door shut behind them. The teen didn't even startle at the noise, and John swiftly re-set the wards. He led the boy to the living room, sitting him down on the sofa. Chas acquiesced, his gaze fixed on the floor. Blood roared in John's ears.
He wanted to scream at Chas for being so fucking stupid, for wandering off in a decidedly unsafe building and nearly getting raped. He wanted to demand answers from the boy, to find out how Balthazar had managed to ensnare him, and why a simple suggestion spell had bound someone as strong as Chas. He didn't know who infuriated him more at the moment; Balthazar for daring to touch what was his, or Chas for making him feel so helpless. John glared at the boy seated before him.
He hit Chas, hard but open-fisted, across the face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" John growled, his voice strained with the anger that had already escaped his control. The teen's liquid hazel eyes found his own, and John was faced with the sudden urge to beat Chas bloody. He abruptly turned on his heel and forced himself to head for the kitchen. Halfway there, he put his fist into the wall, smashing the plaster onto the floor. Swearing and muttering imprecations upon everything he could think of, the exorcist snatched a bottle of whiskey off the counter. He opened it and took a swig, catching movement in the corner of his eye.
"Oh no you don't," he snarled at Chas, seeing the boy take a few steps towards the door. "You're going to stay where you're supposed to, for once." John headed back towards his apprentice, the bottle gripped tightly in his fingers. Chas' hands were clenched into fists, and John wondered idly if Chas had planned on hitting him in retaliation. The lanky teen stopped in his tracks, his face expressionless.
"Gonna hurt me, John?" Chas' voice was barely a whisper. He wetted his bruised lips, standing his ground.
"I think you already know the answer to that." John took a step towards his apprentice, trying to read his body language. Already his anger was starting to turn sour in his stomach. Chas looked dreadful, blood in the corners of his mouth, his face blotchy from being hit repeatedly. It was a wonder the teen was still on his feet and defiant, after what he'd suffered. The magician reached out to grab Chas' arm, thinking to move him back to the couch, but the teen wrenched himself free. John nearly hit him again for that.
"What the hell were you thinking, Chas? Wandering off in that club, of all places. Do you have any idea how fucking stupid that was? Do you know what Balthazar had planned for you, or did you think he'd just fuck you and then let you go?" John paused for breath, realizing he'd been screaming. Chas stared off into space, and it took the magician a moment or two to realize the teen had tears in his eyes.
John abandoned the bottle to the coffee table, a few rays of clarity beginning to shine through his dark rage. Adding alcohol to this would be like dousing a fire with gasoline. He needed to restrain himself, to gather up the scraps and ribbons of this situation and make it, if not okay, then at least slightly less awful. Chas was starting to shake, just a little, and he watched as the boy tried to hide it.
John sighed, his gaze sweeping over Chas. The teen seemed frozen in place now, not so much insolent as unable to decide what to do. Was he going to wait till I finished yelling at him, and then leave? Chas lifted his chin to look him in the eyes, and John couldn't decipher what that meant. Chas avoided his gaze so often it seemed like the gesture was his defense tactic of choice, but now John wasn't so sure. He took another step towards Chas and watched the teen visibly suppress a flinch.
"Chas," he started, slowly closing the distance between them. Chas looked wary but held his ground, keeping his shining hazel eyes on John. The teen's expression was strange, a mix of betrayal and resignation and something else John couldn't place. He was starting to regret losing his temper. Chas certainly didn't deserve this.
Half a foot away, John reached out and pulled Chas into his arms. Chas tensed in his grip, but that was only to be expected. There was a long moment when John thought the teen might just yank himself free and punch him in the mouth, but then Chas sagged into his embrace like a puppet whose strings had been cut. John pressed him close, listening to the teen's ragged breathing. He began to slide his hands under Chas' denim jacket, but the boy startled and pulled away.
"Don't," he whispered.
John nodded. "Alright."
A moment later, Chas stepped back into his arms.
Review if you're still with me. A lot of people have this on alerts, but I never hear from them, so I don't know if anyone really reads this or not. Well, besides the super-awesome reviewers: love you all! :D