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No Angel	By : RavenWolf Category: 1 through F > Constantine Views: 3558 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Constantine, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-No Angel
- 1
Title: No Angel

Author: RavenWolf

Pairing: John/Chas

Rating: NC-17

Summary: John is fucked up. And Chas just wants to go home.

Note: Coda to the movie, so Chas is indeed dead.
*~*
�He needs me.�
�You can�t go back. Those are the rules. You know that, Chas.� The angel turned his back on what was perhaps the only sad person in Heaven.
Chas looked down through the mist of clouds that separated the planes, and couldn�t shake the knowledge that John needed him. The man hadn�t performed an exorcism in months. And he was smoking again.
Not to mention the fact that that Angela chick had come by no less than three times, and John hadn�t even opened the fucking door. Chas knew that John was an asshole, but he�d really thought that those two were in love.
�Please, Raphael. Please.�
�No, Chas. I don�t make the rules. And I can�t send you back.� The angel looked as if he was going to leave, but then turned to say something more. He put a hand on Chas�s shoulder. �He�ll get over it. They always do.�
Then Raphael departed for God knew where, leaving Chas alone again. �Fucking asshole,� he whispered under his breath. In his heart he knew that what Raphael said was true. John would get over it. Eventually.
But that wasn�t the point. The point was that Chas didn�t think he would. Get over it, that was. He missed him so much it hurt deep inside. Which was an odd occurrence, since in Heaven, nothing was supposed to hurt.
He wondered how long it would be until John joined him here.
If he was going to at all.
***
John looked at the thin cylinder in his hand. Cancer stick, some called it. He lit it and put it in his mouth, inhaling deeply. He wondered vaguely if this could be considered suicide, smoking himself to death for a second time. He settled it by deciding that he didn�t really care.
He was just pouring some more whiskey into his glass when a knock came at the door. He didn�t even get up. It wasn�t part of his plan, you see. His plan included sitting in that chair, drinking and smoking until he puked, passed out, or both, and then getting up the following evening to do it all over again. At one point, food had been involved, but he�d found that without it he got drunk much quicker, so he�d decided that it would be in his best interest to stop eating solid food altogether.
That decision couldn�t have been made more than a few days ago; witness the fact that he was still alive.
The door opened, and he looked up to see Angela standing in front of him. He noticed that she�d cut her hair. He reached for his glass of whiskey, again, but she took it away.
�Hey,� he whined peevishly. �Give that back, bitch.� She didn�t look too startled, so he guessed that she�d probably come around before. Sometime...after. After Chas had died.
�No, John. In fact, I do believe I�ll be taking all of your alcohol with me this time.�
She grabbed the bottle off the table and then went to his pantry, where the sound of crashing glass could be heard. John laid his head down on his arm. �I�ll just buy more,� he said, half to himself.
�No, no you won�t. Because I�m not leaving you unsupervised anymore. Midnite!� she called out to someone still in the hall.
John tilted his head, one bloodshot eye appearing over his arm. �Aw, shit. Just leave me alone.�
She put her hand on his shoulder. �Come on, John. I know he�s gone, and I know it�s hard, but we can get through this. Together.�
John felt a latent rage come boiling to the forefront. �You don�t know a goddamn thing. You don�t know a goddamn, motherfucking thing. So back the FUCK off!� He tossed an empty glass against the far wall. It shattered.
He pushed against the table, the chair squealing backwards as he stood. He wobbled a bit, about to say something else. Then, the alcohol poisoning caught up with him and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
***

�Ow.� What he�d meant to say was �Holy FUCK OW!� but he found that his tongue was too thick to speak easily. His mouth tasted like blood and alcohol, and he didn�t remember what he�d done the night before. Or the night before that.
He looked around. He was in his own bed, the fan twirling lazily on the ceiling. He couldn�t tell by the dim light whether it was night or day. He tried to sit up. �Don�t,� a voice said, and he recognized it as Midnite�s.
�What...what are you doing here?� he asked vaguely, head throbbing.
�Keeping your sorry ass from an early grave.� Midnite pushed his chest down, none too gently, forcing him to lie back on the bed.
�What happened?� John asked. �Where�s Cha--� Oh. Right. Chas is dead, idiot. �Where�s Angela?� he asked instead. Midnite didn�t acknowledge the slip of the tongue.
�She had to work. She�ll be back. And as for what happened...Well, call it a much-needed intervention.�
John thought about staying awake. But he just couldn�t...function. He had the hangover of a lifetime, cumulative from days of drinking and not eating. And beneath that, the sorrow that he couldn�t mention, couldn�t say.
He leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. A lot. Midnite watched impassively. He wiped his mouth, and then rolled back onto the bed to fall back asleep.
***
Chas was at the end of his rope. He was going insane. Never had he felt quite so alone. He felt like he should be haunting something, a transparent Chas-ghost left behind by unfinished business.
Unfortunately, that wasn�t the way it worked.
It would have been very easy for him to be happy. To just let go and relax, for once. That was what most people did when they went to Heaven. They let go, forgot about their loved ones, confident that they�d be seeing them soon. And even then, Heaven had a soporific effect on the mind. Half the time, Chas couldn�t even remember why he wanted to go home so badly. He thought it might be a misguided attempt of theirs to make him happy, but it only made it worse. Made him feel like he was insane.
�Let me go back. Michael. Please. You don�t understand. I need to.� Michael turned a cold shoulder to the soul�s petulant pleading. The warrior angel had no use for grief, no use for the human who had it all but still couldn�t appreciate it.
In a lucid moment, a thought came into Chas�s mind. He smiled slyly, or did the spiritual equivalent, at least. �If you won�t help me, maybe I�ll take my business elsewhere.�
Michael watched him with curious, fiery eyes. �You may not be willing to make a deal with me. But Satan and his demons aren�t so discriminatory.�
Michael flew upon him, towering in his glorious rage. �You speak the foul one�s name here?!? You profane our existences with him?!� Fire licked upwards from his eyes, forming a sword. He forced Chas down.
In immense pain, Chas grinned. �I know how to get thrown out of Heaven! I read the Bible! Surely there will be more aid for me in Hell! Or at least I�ll hurt so fucking much that I�ll forget...�
Michael�s quick temper cooled. The boy�s soul was weeping, desperate. Hysterical.
He backed off. The flames died down, white and pure but dangerous all the same. �Perhaps...� he said, mostly to himself. It would never do to have torment in Heaven. Just perhaps, an exception might be made. To make things right. Restore order.
Michael extended himself, speaking briefly with the other angels, and then prostrating himself before the Almighty.
And it was unanimously decided. Heaven was a place of absolute bliss, Hell a place of absolute torment, and Earth the place for everything in between.
�You�ll go back,� Michael said.
***

John woke up and Angela was with him this time. Far more lucid than he had been before, he got to his feet, ignoring her. He wandered into the bathroom, threw up again, and then washed his face. He didn�t take the time to look in the mirror.
Then he went straight to his liquor cabinet. Angela followed him. �I took it all,� she said, in response to the empty cabinet. �You�re not going to drink any more. You�re going to eat your breakfast. And then we�re going out.�
John lit a cigarette. �And what, you�re going to make me?� he asked sarcastically. She squared her hips.

�Yes, I am,� she said, with a peculiar fire in her gaze.
He shrugged. He really didn�t give a damn either way.
He drank the coffee she made him, ate the pancakes. Obediently wore his coat when she gave it to him, glaring at her lightly from beneath his lashes. She pretended she didn�t notice.
The next thing he knew, they were in front of Chas�s grave. He reached into his pocket, and frowned when his hand encountered nothing. No cigs.
He stood with head bent in front of the gravestone. Angela was looking at him. If she�d expected him to break down and rage against the world for taking his Chas away, she had another fucking thing coming.
�So?� he said.
�So? What do you mean, so? Chas is dead, John. And I know that�s the reason you�ve been drinking yourself into a stupor. He was your friend, like a son to you, and you feel responsible for his death. It wasn�t your fault, John.�

He laughed out loud. Long and hard, he laughed. Angela was looking more and more pissed by the second. Didn�t stop him, though, just like the recent pollution of cigarettes didn�t stop him. He laughed until he was coughing up phlegm, laughed until he fell to his knees. Laughed until he was crying.
He took a deep, clean breath and stood up. �Angela,� he said, darkly. He walked towards her until she felt her back against a tree. He could almost smell her apprehension. He leaned in real close.
�J-John, what are you doing?� she asked, breathless.
�Chas wasn�t like my son, Angela. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to take that sweet little ass to bed with me, consequences be damned. But I didn�t. I didn�t because I had to be a goddamn good man. I had to have fucking morals. But I swear, if I had the chance again now, I wouldn�t hesitate. Not for a second.�
He was hissing in her ear, he was so close. She felt little shivers run up her spine, and she envied Chas his effect.
John turned around to leave. He got about as far as Chas�s grave before he stopped. Turning his head to the side, he said, �Oh. And it was my fault. I am the reason he�s dead.�
Then he continued on his way. Angela, shaken and turned on, muttered under her breath.
�Asshole.�
***

John went back to his solitary demon-hunting ways in less than a week. To Angela, who had known him only a short time, this was normal. The biting sarcastic remarks, the humorless vitriol, the drinking (though in moderation).
She didn�t see the hardness, the new hardness. John had never wanted an apprentice. And now he knew he�d never take on another one. Even though Angela had been hinting that she wanted to help him. He ignored her.
Still, it was easy for them to start dating. Or at least, for Angela to come over for a drink before they fucked each other senseless. She tried to forget what he�d said in the cemetery. It was okay that he loved someone else; she was too busy with her work to maintain a normal relationship anyways.
But she still wished that it was her he pictured when he came.
***
It should be noted that time passes differently in heaven than on Earth. When Chas returned, it had been almost a year for John Constantine and the rest of the good folk on planet Earth. For Chas it had been days, at the most.
So the pain of his death was still fresh when he fell steaming and naked to a street just outside L.A. itself. He looked up just in time to roll out of the way of an oncoming car.
He crawled to the sidewalk, shivering. It was nighttime, and raining. He couldn�t stop his teeth from chattering. He stood on the side of the road and wondered where the hell he was supposed to get clothes. It took care of itself when he saw the closed thrift shop on the corner. He slammed through the glass and pulled on some clothes, eschewing underwear.
He felt better, though he didn�t like having to steal. He�d done enough of it before he met John. But there was no way he was going to walk around the bad part of L.A. butt naked. That was just asking for it.
It was good to know his street smarts had returned. Along, it seemed, with everything else. For the first time since he�d died, everything was sharp and clear in his mind. He knew who he was, who he loved, what he was there for. He knew his name, his history.
Best of all, he knew where to begin looking for John Constantine.
***

For some reason, the bouncer didn�t look twice when the scrawny looking teenager passed his test with flying colors. Neither did any of the half-breeds inhabiting the bar/club that he�d gained entrance to.
For his part, he ignored them, too. He wasn�t here to have fun, after all. He was here for information from Papa Midnite.
He found his way into the back room, where the enigmatic Midnite was sitting behind his desk. The older man, for his part, hid his surprise well.
�I didn�t know the Almighty was in the practice of resurrecting humans.�
Chas shrugged. �I was a hard case. Depressed everyone, including the angels. So they sent me back.�
He stood with his hands in his pockets for a moment. �Where can I find John these days?� he asked, casually, as if the answer meant nothing to him. As if that wasn�t the whole reason he�d come here in the first place.
Midnite took a long drag of his cigar before answering the question. He debated answering with a sarcastic, cold comment, but then he looked at the kid. Newly reborn. He shrugged mentally. He liked the boy, at any rate.
�He�s been spending most of his time at apartment 9 on the corner of First and Fig.� Chas took a deep breath and turned to leave.
�Kid, wait. I like you, so I think I should tell you. He�s not alone there.� Chas shrugged nonchalantly.
�Thanks, Pops, but I don�t really see why I should care.�
Midnite leaned back in his chair. �It�s that girl detective. You know the one. Just thought you might like to know.�
Chas clenched his fists inside his pocket. Bitch. It was his John she was fucking around with. His. Envy seethed inside of him, and he hadn�t even seen John yet.
He left the club with about as much fuss as he�d caused by coming in.
***

He felt like he was walking in a dream. The apartment Midnite had given him wasn�t close by; nevertheless, he opted to walk there. His limbs moved easily and without fatigue, even after blocks of walking. He felt...brand new. His muscles were strong, but as though they had never been used. His entire body felt like it was in perfect condition.
But his mind was in turmoil. If John was happy, should he even bother to see him? He�d known about John and Angela; he had been looking in from time to time, after all. But not recently enough to know that they were living together. If they were in love, should he intervene?
His path had seemed so clear when he was up above, watching John suffer, and missing him. But down here...
He trudged onward, looking up only when it started to rain. He ran a hand through his curly hair and blinked the water from his eyes. If he was a newborn, then this must be his baptism. He looked up to the heavens. �Thanks for that,� he muttered.
Now he was drenched, cold, and wearing the clothes of a homeless person. Fantastic. He was too close to turn back now, though, so he went up. Up the stairs, counting the floors, in an effort to slow down time. He was suddenly nervous. Would John be happy to see him? As happy as he would be to see John?
Time for endless anxious thoughts ran out when he reached the door. This complex wasn�t much better than John�s last one, but with the water damage Angela had done to that, he wouldn�t be surprised if they were still doing repairs.
He knocked without even knowing what he was doing. He looked up at the sound and all of a sudden realized that his hand was up there, knocking on the door.
Woodenly, he thought about what would happen if John wasn�t even home.
But someone was. The door opened a crack, and a familiar eye appeared beneath the chain. Angela.
�Chas?!� she said with surprise. Chas didn�t know if she was acting or what. He couldn�t even tell whether she was pleased to see him or not.
He nodded briefly and the door shut. There was the sound of the chain being drawn back, and then the door opened again. Angela stood in front of him, shorter than he�d remembered. And healthier. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.

They�re having sex. Chas realized. Shouldn�t have been too much of a surprise, but somehow it was. He breathed in, and realized that he could smell the faint scent of sex on her. In fact, they were having sex very recently. Shit.
�Come in,� she said, guardedly. He didn�t know what was going on with her, and he didn�t honestly give a damn. She was peripheral, unimportant. He�d come back for John. And that�s who he was going to see.
He was about to ask Angela where the demon hunter was when said man stumbled out of his bedroom, wearing only boxers and a wrinkled dress shirt. �Jesus Christ,� John muttered. �Holy Jesus fucking Christ.�
They stood staring at each other for almost a minute, until Angela began squirming uncomfortably. �I�m just gonna...go. For a walk. I�ll see you later John. Chas,� she said, grabbing her purse and hurrying out of the door.

Good, Chas thought viciously. He stared into John�s eyes for a moment more. John didn�t say anything. Then, he moved to pour himself a drink.
His hands shook as they grabbed the glass, and the bottle of Jack Daniels clinked against it. �Jesus,� he said again. Chas. Alive? No. But...yes. Everything was so fucked up. Was Chas really here? Really?
Drinking was probably not the best idea right now, but he�d given up his cigarettes and he needed to do something. Something to distract himself from the...the fantasy standing in front of him.
He took a long sip from the glass, draining it. Then he looked at it contemplatively before putting it down in favor of swigging straight from the bottle.
Chas shifted nervously. This was not going well, in his opinion. �Gee, John, I thought you�d be at least a little happy to see me.� He said it with a little smile and a laugh, as if to hide the obvious hurt behind the words.
�Yeah,� John said absentmindedly. He stared at the floor, overwhelmed.
�John?� Chas asked, moving around to place himself back in John�s line of vision.
The sight of Chas�s feet pulled John�s eyes up to meet the former�s face. �You�re dead, Chas. Why are you haunting me?�

He asked more candidly than Chas had ever heard him speak, and it caught him off-guard. And �haunting�. An interesting choice of words.
�I�m not haunting you, John. I just...I�m back. I�m alive again. I...well, let�s just say that I�m really just that irritating. They couldn�t stand me up there any longer. So they let me come back.�
John put the bottle down. He looked Chas straight in the eye, more comprehending than before. �You�re a fucking idiot,� he said, simply.
�What?� Chas said, finally losing his temper. �I came back, John. I came back and you think I�m an idiot? I saw you. I saw you before, when you tried to kill yourself in a passive-aggressive little binge, and I saw you when you came to my funeral. Don�t you want me here?� The last was said with a bit of hurt. �I came back for you, John,� he said, softly, quietly. Tiredly. There. That was everything. All his secrets, all his reasons, everything laid out on the table.
�You shouldn�t have,� John said, moving away from him. He grabbed a pair of pants off the back of a chair and started pulling them on. �How stupid can you get? You got Heaven. You got everything you could ever have wanted and you gave it up for...for what? For me? I hate to be the one to break it to you, kid, but I�m an asshole. Definitely not worth Heaven.�
�But you are,� Chas said quietly, looking away from the almost painful admission.
�No. I�m not. So just...just go back. Tell them you changed your mind. Fix it.�
There was a chord of desperation in John�s voice. Chas could practically feel the breakdown, waiting to happen. All it would take was a little, tiny push.
�I needed you, John. I love you, you idiot.� He touched John�s cheek, then pressed his lips softly to John�s.
John broke in his hands. He drew in a deep ragged breath that might have been a sob and kissed Chas back. But it was too much. Too much happiness, too fast. Chas was alive. Chas loved him. Chas was kissing him.
He pushed Chas away and then fell backwards onto an overstuffed chair. His head lolled to the side and he took in deep, sobbing breaths, clenching the arms of the chair and trying not to cry. Trying to keep himself together. He had to stay on top of things. He had to stay strong. Otherwise he might just...melt.
Chas let him breathe for a moment, and then crawled up between his legs and rested his head against his chest. He could hear John�s heart jack hammering away in his chest.
Gulping air, John said, �God, Chas, I missed you so fucking much.�
Chas smiled. There it was. There was the recognition he�d been waiting for, the confirmation. His true baptism, the way the words flowed over him like holy water, even in their profanity.
Chas suddenly felt hot. Desperate and aroused, he craved human touch. John�s touch. He looked up into John�s eyes, so trusting and open for once in their relationship, stripped of sarcasm and cynicism. Raw and open and hopeful.
He didn�t know what he was doing when he started unbuttoning John�s shirt. All he knew was that it needed to be done. He got impatient halfway through and ripped it down, popping the buttons off, and exposing John�s smooth, nearly hairless chest and moderately muscled abdomen.
John licked suddenly dry lips. �Chas,� he whispered in a hoarse voice, staring up at the ceiling. �It�s too much. It�s too much.�
Chas had to scramble for meaning for an instant before it dawned on him. Not a meaning he could put into words, just a sudden knowledge. An instantaneous understanding of the other which he put to use immediately. �Please, John, let me. Let me do this for you. I�ve wanted to for so long...�
How could John refuse that? And he wanted it so bad...Chas�s mouth on him in places no good Catholic girl would ever go. Chas, real and with him, and now licking the salt from the hollow in his collar bone. It was heaven.
Chas�s eyelashes fluttered as John pushed his jacket off. Now he could really enjoy the feeling of John�s skin, against his own. The thought of it sent a shiver through him. He was tempted to just lay down across John and revel in the feeling of their skin together. Finally.
But the ache between his legs wouldn�t let him forget what it was that he wanted. What he was going to do for John. He let his tongue rove across the landscapes of John�s hard, flat chest and abs, exploring from curiosity almost more than from ardor.
Until he reached John�s navel. Chas dipped his tongue into it briefly, and then he reached up and scratched his nails down John�s shoulders. The other couldn�t help but moan, albeit softly. �Fuck, Chas. Do you even know what you�re doing to me?�
Chas only grinned. As if this was only sex, as if it was only pleasure. John�s hands came up and stroked Chas�s shoulders obsessively, tenderly. His eyes communicated the rest of what he felt, what he wanted to say but couldn�t. The part of him that knew it wasn�t just sex, that it was rejoicing and it was pain and it was love all in one.
Chas took it all, accepted everything that he gave. Undid John�s belt, methodically undid the button and zipper of his slacks. John�s arousal was suddenly visible, and it made it so much more real. He was so full of emotion that it hurt.

He nuzzled John�s cock gently, as if saying hello. John bit his lip. He wouldn�t moan or cry out. He�d given up too much of himself already. He had to keep at least some of him inside, or he�d just be empty. Nonetheless, his hips jerked and he yearned to let go.
Chas tasted the tip of his cock. Salty, like the ocean or the rim of a margarita, and sweet like alcohol. He pressed his lips to the head, and made it into an elongated kiss, moving his lips down and down.
His whole body moved, undulating sensuously and impossibly as he sucked John off. John could feel that the kid was getting off on this as much as he was, and it was...powerful. John touched Chas�s cheek, and tears burned behind his eyes as he came.
Chas swallowed it all, keeping it inside him, a little piece of John and this world, trapped in him. Like an anchor, so they couldn�t take it back, couldn�t renege on their deal.
To hide his tears, John pulled Chas up to lie on top of him and kissed the kid fiercely. Angrily. As if to say, �how dare you leave me, you little bastard?� Chas kissed back gently, replying, �i�m sorry it�ll never ever happen again� John accepted it and gentled his kiss, slowed it, until they were just leaning together, faces pressed close, open in a way that once would have scared both of them.
It was then, as John ran his fingertips along Chas�s face, felt the curves of emotion on his face, that he realized that Chas was real. No angel, no imaginary fantasy, no chimerical dream. Real.
He stroked his hands down Chas�s back, recognizing the hardness still pressing into his stomach as real, also. He pulled his face away from Chas�s, and grinned as he rolled his hips lazily, giving Chas gentle friction. Chas�s eyes reflected surprise, but he reacted quickly by moaning and pressing his face into John�s shoulder. Chas arched up further to allow better access, and John�s hand darted between them and began to find Chas�s arousal and free it. He stroked and rubbed quickly, eager for Chas to have the same release he had. �Oh God, John,� he murmured. �You are too good at this.� In response, John slowed his hand and for a moment just rested it against Chas�s cock, feeling the pulse of blood within.
John leaned up and whispered darkly into Chas�s ear. �Come for me, Chas. Come on.� He bit Chas�s earlobe gently, and it was enough for Chas.
He moaned softly and slumped into John.
***
Somehow they made it to the bed, because that was where John woke up. His first reaction to the sunlight was to flinch away, trained to do so by one too many hangovers. But he blinked slowly and his eyes adjusted.
The previous night emerged slowly, leisurely. But his first thought caused him to shoot an arm out, hoping for the warm, male body he knew he might not find.
�Ow,� Chas mumbled, as John whacked him on the shoulder. �Yeah, I�m still here, you big goober.�
There was a pause as John relaxed. Chas was really here with him, and things were back to better than normal.
�Did you just call me a goober?�
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No Angel