As John remembered the details of that night, he also remembered what the papers had written. The major headlines said that there had been an animal attack, and when the family tried to defend itself, the beast killed them, but not before the young man of the house was accidentally shot in friendly fire.
A kick in his stomach yanked the blond out of his blast to the past, and John grunted and glared up at Jack, still inhabiting Thomas' body.
"It's not fair!" Jack shouted. "My father was the abusive one! Why did we all have to pay for his sins?"
"I know it's not fair, mate," John said. So, his hunch about the boy's father had been right; that made the attack even more of a tragedy than it already was. "I know. I should have gotten back to you sooner, and we could have worked things out."
"The way I see it," Jack interrupted. " You're the reason I got out, the reason for all of this!" Another kick made John's already-sore torso ache more.
"Jack," John began, holding out his bound hands in a peaceful gesture, hoping to calm the boy down, or reach some humane part of him, however small it was. "I can help you escape the pain that you've been feeling for the past two years," he offered. "I wasn't there to help you in life. Let me help you move on in death, and escape the pain you've been holding onto for so long."
For a moment, John thought Jack was actually going to take him up on his offer, but then the boy's face contorted into a snarl, and John knew his time was up. It was now or never. John kicked out with his good leg, catching his attacker in the knee. When Jack started to tumble over, John got to his knees and lunged for the table where his bag was sitting. He wanted to shout in anger when he realized his reach was just short enough that he couldn't reach the bag. He kept pushing though, stretching just past what he thought he couldn't, and he managed to grab the bag with his middle and index finger. He'd barely had time to revel in his success before he suddenly felt two hands grab his shirt and pull him back.
The bag fell off the table and spilled its contents on the floor, but it didn't do John much good. Jack grabbed ahold of the blond and with inhuman strength and threw him across the room. John hit the far wall with a thud, then fell to the floor, groaning as he rolled over and inadvertently put pressure on his wounds. He'd hit his head hard against the wall and was now seeing stars, but through his hazy vision he could see Jack in Thomas' body stalking over to him, and he had flashbacks to his childhood.
"Not again," John muttered, struggling to get up. He was not going to be a punching bag for his father again, whether or not the older man was in control. As Jack reached for John, the blond ducked out of the way, but he'd forgotten about his injured leg. He tried to move too quickly and stumbled, giving Jack an easy opportunity to catch him.
Jack hit John's shoulder hard enough to dislocate it and make him drop to the ground. Not about to give up the fight that easily, John swept his good leg around, knocking Thomas' feet out from underneath him. With the older man on the floor, John had the upper hand, and he took advantage of it. Ignoring the flaring pain in his shoulder, John straddled his father's chest, pressing the chain between his handcuffs down on the man's throat.
Thomas choked and gasped for breath, and for a moment John thought he had won. That was until he heard a ripping sound and once again felt invisible claws digging into his skin, this time on his side. The gashes were much deeper than the other wounds, and John could feel the total blood loss of his combined wounds taking a toll on his body. While the warlock was distracted with the pain, Jack used Thomas' hands to clap his son's ears with his palms flat.
The ringing in John's ears was overwhelming, and everything he heard was muted. His head hurt, and his distractedness was the only opening Jack needed to attack back. Jerking his head forward, Jack smacked his forehead into John's nose, and the detective went reeling. His leg refused to support his weight, and the blond crashed to his knees when he tried to get away.
There was a savage yell from behind, and suddenly John was locked in a constricting embrace from behind. The blond grunted and wiggled, trying to escape the grip, but he knew that ghosts have inhuman strength. The more he struggled, the tighter and tighter Jack's grip on him became, until John started to see stars in his vision and felt like his head was about to pop.
0-0-0
"Come on, can't you drive any faster?" Zed urged. Chas looked at the woman for a moment to shoot her a glare.
"I'm pushing her as fast as she'll go," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "Come on, with that tailwind that got us in thirty minutes earlier than expected, we're here much sooner than we should have been." They passed under a green traffic light, and Chas pointed up. "And that is the sixth green light we've hit. Knock on wood, but we've barely hit any hard patches getting here. I think someone's watching out for John."
They both knew who that 'someone' was, but Zed wished that Manny would either show himself, or just get John out of the mess himself, even though she knew that angels weren't technically supposed to directly involve themselves in human affairs. Zed also knew that Chas was doing his best, so she decided to curb her backseat driving as the man wove through traffic.
In order to find their target, Zed had to put all thoughts of John out of her head, otherwise when she closed her eyes, he was all she saw, and she needed to find someone else. She'd finally seen a bar on the side of the road called 'The Hometown Brew,' though several of the neon letters were out, making the name read 'Te Hoeown ew.' After a brief search on Google, Zed found the address, and that was where she and Chas were currently headed.
0-0-0
"Chas!" Frankie yelped as the bigger man pinned him against the outside wall the bar. "Wh-what's goin' on? How did you...how did you find me?"
"That doesn't matter," Chas growled. "Where is John? Why aren't you with him?"
"John?" Frankie acted as if he didn't know who they were talking about until Chas applied a bit more pressure to the man's lungs. "Oh, John! Yeah, we finished up a while ago," he said. The massive gulp and sweat shining on his brow let Zed and Chas know that he was lying, even though they didn't need proof for that.
"Where is he?" Zed asked in a dangerously quiet voice. Frankie looked panicked.
"I swear! We finished up with each other hours ago! I haven't seen him since we went to that-" The man trailed off, hoping the two hadn't caught his slip-up, but they had.
"Your what?" Chas asked. Thankfully, outside in the alleyway, they had a bit of privacy, so Chas pulled out his long knife that he always kept at his side. Chas placed the knife against Frankie's throat.
"House!" Frankie squeaked out, his eyes going wide at the sight of the knife. "I took John to an old house he thought was mine! His father wanted to talk to him, but said John wouldn't come if he asked, so Thomas asked me to get him to come here. I figured he wanted to apologize for the way he'd treated John when he was younger, so I did it. I got John to come out."
"I wish it were that simple," Zed muttered, staring up at Chas. The older man stared at Frankie with an incredulous look.
"You seriously thought that Thomas Constantine had changed his ways enough to tell his son he was sorry? Oh Frankie. You're dumber than you look."
Frankie looked indignant at that statement, but he didn't say anything. Chas still had his knife to Frankie's throat, and Frankie very much enjoyed breathing.
Zed took a menacing step towards Frankie. "Where is the house?"
