'John,' Chas breathed against him, 'do you feel like yourself?'

'Don't be weird, Chas,' said John, and smiled just a bit.

Then the door keeping them from Midnite disappeared.

If he felt the pulses of magic each time Midnite tested the air, then this was a vortex. Chas pushed him towards Angela immediately, blocking them with his body.

'Constantine,' Midnite said as though their conversation were uninterrupted, 'do you have any idea what he's worth?'

'He's nothing to you Midnite, so just stop this.'

Angela was conscious enough to reach for her gun holster and and curse when she found it empty.

'John?' She said.

'Are you okay?'

'..I'd be better with a weapon.'

'Yeah, well you're preaching to the choir there.'

Angela leaned into him as he helped her to her feet. He hoped she was capable of running.

'Hey Chas,' she shouted, 'you with us?'

John was amazed since checking on their welfare would be like the twelfth thing on his list. He could see why Chas would shield her, like the first time they'd met. (Why was Chas just standing there?)

When Chas had died for her.

As Midnite approached them, Chas followed his movement slowly around. Too slowly. He wasn't moving right, but it was only when he'd turned far enough to face them that John knew just how wrong it was.

This was Not Chas.

Not the Chas who had kissed him a minute ago. Not his former apprentice and chauffeur. Not, not, no.

A dead thing was wearing his face, and didn't know how to use it

John was already holding Angela's arms to support her, but now his fingers dug tight into her flesh.

'That's not him,' he heard himself say.

Angela placed her hand over his. 'John, I'm sorry.'

'No,' John said, 'It was, it was him just now.'

Midnite smiled. 'So sure now?'

'You knew all along you smug bastard.'

Midnite shook his head. 'You are so small to think that actually matters. It's what he is that bears relevance, not who. Only someone of your extraordinary ego could miss that. You think he's here for your benefit? Your corruption? The battle for your soul is over Constantine.'

'And what about his?'

'John,' Midnite sounded affronted, 'He's an emissary, not a pet.'

If Angela was steady John would have punched him. But she wasn't, and it was his apprentice who'd pushed him towards her.

'Chas.' John said. 'His name is Chas.'

Then Chas lashed out and grabbed Midnite by the throat, lifting him from the ground and literally choking the life out of him.

'Chas!' Angela wrenched herself from John's grip and pulled at Chas' arms, prying at him and calling his name. Chas' expression didn't even flicker.

Midnite was trying to say something. It came out as a hoarse whisper, so John couldn't be sure what he heard, but Chas released him instantly. Angela fell to Midnite's side, encouraging him to breathe.

Chas' arm fell to his side, not even looking at the heap of Midnite writhing for breath at his feet. He turned to look at the walls of artefacts, reaching out to run his fingers along the spines of books which could fell civilisations. He looked like himself again, but his eyes seemed infinitely older.

'John', Angela said, 'if that's not Chas, then who is it?'

John grabbed Chas' shoulder and forced him around. It sent something like an electric shock up his arm.

'What the fuck is happening to you?'

Chas smiled and handed him a book. John threw it away without looking.

Angela was smacking Midnite between the shoulder blades far harder than necessary until he hacked and took a few shuddering breaths. 'Thank you,' he said.

'Midnite, I think it's safe to say you've lost control of the situation,' said John.

Midnite sat a little straighter. 'This is my domain,' he said.

'If you really believed that,' said Angela, 'you'd give my gun back.'

Midnite nodded like, well duh.

'What are you doing to him?' said John.

'The real question is what are you doing to him?'

'I swear one more obtuse answer from you Midnite–'

'He's trying to help,' Angela said. John looked at her but she wasn't making eye contact with him, staring into the middle-ground as if hearing someone else. Then she shook out of it, looking a bit embarrassed. 'I just get this vibe.'

'That spell was temporary,' said Midnite, as though he'd been on side all along and Chas was a shared problem between them. 'I need to bind him properly.'

Angela looked at John. 'Bind?'

'Like an anchor, tying him to the human world.'

'Why?'

'Gabriel was left untethered,' said Midnite.

'Oh,' John said,

'Right', Angela said, and shuddered before looking at Chas who gave no indication he heard them, inspecting everything that caught his eye. 'So he's not – bound now?'

'He's in between,' said Midnite. 'Neither fully human nor angel.'

'Is that normal?'

John shrugged.

Chas stroked the line of a wooden crucifix so large and ancient-looking that John wouldn't be surprised to learn it had carried Jesus himself. It was fixed to the wall with bolts as large as footballs, and Chas ripped them out as if they were marshmallows to get a closer look. They hit the floor with a metallic thud.

All three of them stared at Chas.

'...This spell,' John said, 'ties him to what?'

'Not what, who.'

'Right. Except a spell should bind you to the caster, and if that were true he wouldn't have floored you. So, why could I bring him out of it?'

Midnite had pulled himself to his knees

'Now that would be the pertinent question.'

Chas was holding the crucifix in one hand; well the angel was. Chas, like most humans, wasn't strong enough to do that. The curiosity belonged to Chas though, since the angel's real function was closer to that of a servant.

It hurt John's head to imagine how this coiled thing in front of them could possibly sustain both.

'This spell only works on newborns,' said John, guessing, yes, but knowing too.

'The window of time is short,' Midnite agreed.

'What happens if we don't bind him?'

Midnite laughed, but it was raspy from the attempted choking. 'Whatever God intended.'

John nodded. 'Well fuck that.'

Chas sank down against the wall, holding a book again. The same one actually. He was shaking.

'John,' said Angela, 'What are you going to do?'

John went to Chas. Chas flung the book at him this time, a wild look in his eyes. And John knew what was in that book – ancient verses, something that would bind him just as Midnite was planning, but without a human tie. A humans agreement that Almighty God knew best, regardless of how much it hurt. The kind of decision that brought on a holy flood to do the cleaning.

This book was meant for a saint; someone who would see the pure power of what was in front of them and resist the temptation to use it for themselves. And John really wasn't that person.

So he took that book, and reached into his jacket for the lighter he still carried with him for the occasions when his frustration could only be addressed with nicotine; for those times he felt out of control.

And he set the book on fire.