All my stories can be found at http://www.freewebs.com/andromedaabyss

Rating: Pg-13

Spoilers: none

Disclaimer: I own none of this.

The entire alleyway stank of blood, urine, and other various things not usually discussed by man in a civil conversation. The devil grinned. His kind of place. And what better spot for the death of the 'great' John Constantine? The devil had been having a good day. Hell on Earth was only seconds away and Constantine was a quick appetizer to go before it all happened.

The man in question was sitting at the very end of the alley, back against the wall. A gun was in Constantine's hand. He had shot himself twice and the chest, and would be dead within seconds. "John, John, John," the devil chided, as though to a disobedient child. He crouched down. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

John was not having a good day. It was the same typical stuff. Someone had wanted to raise hell on earth with the aid of an ancient incantation from a book once written by a tribal shaman. Constantine would have gotten to the crazy psychopath if a daemon hadn't slowed him down. Now the man who wanted to start hell on earth was in a bell tower miles away from him. The clock had chimed signaling midnight. On the last stroke, hell would begin.

So Constantine had taken out his gun. "All right. Let's do this."

And with that, he had shot himself.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Water dripped from a rusty faucet to his left. As Constantine watch the droplet froze in place. Constantine took a deep, ragged breath.

Half a second later the devil came. "John, John, John," he said. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Constantine struggled to speak. Not easy since he could still feel pain. "You're a sore sight for eyes."

The devil was grinning ear to ear, like a cat. "You realize that God isn't going to help you this time, right? You killed yourself, Johnny. Another mortal sin on your record. Most humans aren't even allowed one."

"Yeah," Constantine whispered, looking down. "I know." He coughed. "Well? Aren't you going to do it?"

"I've got an entire eternity to spare, but it is true that I am in a hurry." The devil sat in a chair that wasn't there a second ago. "Though I do want to know one thing, John, before we depart. Why? Why did you make it all so easy for me? Why did you give up before the fireworks even started?"

Constantine said nothing for a moment. "Mind if I smoke?"

The devil shrugged. "I see you've started up again. You really are pathetic, John." He chuckled. "I love it."

Constantine took out a cigarette and lit it with a few flicks of his lighter. He smoked a long drag. "I haven't started until now." He pointed at the devil. "Let me ask you something. You knew about the latest attempt of hell on earth, right?"

The devil shrugged. "Merely one of my minions' work."

"Yeah. I sent him right back to hell," Constantine said. "But I'll bet you're willing to take all the credit."

"Of course."

"The one thing I don't get is this non-interference bullshit. Your minions stopped me from reaching the hellraiser in time. Shouldn't there be consequences for that?"

"Shouldn't there. But there won't be, and you know why? Let me tell you a secret, Johnny." The devil leaned forwards to whisper in Constantine's ear. "God's a pansy man. He's not going to try and stop this. And he's not going to prevent your soul from coming back to hell with me. Doesn't it tick you off that despite everything you've done for him, he doesn't care about you at all?" He licked Constantine's cheek, making the mortal cringe in disgust. The devil stood. "He's too weak to save the world from me, John. He never could. And I think you've always know that."

A long moment of silence between the two.

"Well, time's a-wasting, as you say."

"Yeah." Constantine stubbed his cigarette into the concrete. "Sure."

"Hell was always your home. Where you belong," the devil added.

"Well, here I am," Constantine said. "Come and get me."

The devil's grin increased further, if that was even possible. He took two steps towards Constantine and reached out with his hand towards his shoulder.

And hit an invisible barrier.

The devil tried again. Without any luck.

Constantine raised his eyebrow. "Is there something the matter?"

"This is...some kind of trick!"

"No trick," Constantine said. "Divine intervention. I knew that I would never make it to the bell tower. Being half-way to hell was the only way to slow down time. The rest..." Constantine shrugged. "It was up to God's hands."

"So you killed yourself. Merely hoping that would happen."

"Well, there was a second part to my plan. Something I needed."

"Oh?" The devil took two steps further, eyes burning with rage. "What is that?"

"I needed wings to fly."

Iron-grey feathered wings spread out from Constantine's back, making the devil recoil with a hiss. There was a flash of brilliant light, and when the devil looked up again, Constantine had already shot off into the sky.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Constantine didn't give himself time to be astonished that his plan had actually worked, or the fact that flying really was fun to do. He took off straight towards the bell tower. As he landed on the marble his wings folded up neatly in his back. "Put down the book," Constantine demanded, taking out his gun. "And maybe you'll live beyond today."

The man, half-crazed out of his mind, stared at Constantine in astonishment. The chanting stopped. The book dropped from his hands onto the ground just as the final bell struck. Constantine glanced around and saw a peaceful night. No hell on earth.

"You're...you're not...hell should have come," the man stammered.

"Not today," Constantine said. He gestured. "Back away from the edge and...we'll talk."

The man smiled foolishly. "I think not," he said. He turned and jumped over the edge.

Constantine walked to the edge of the tower and looked down. The guy was dead. Constantine sighed and felt for his pocket for another cigarette. He felt like he deserved it. He turned in astonishment. The wings were gone from his back. He touched his chest. The wounds were gone. Hell, even the holes from his shirt were gone. He felt for his own pulse and found it.

He was human again.

"Great," Constantine took out the cigarette and smoked it. He looked up at the sky. "Thanks, God." Some habits really just refused to die. Like cigarettes.

Constantine took a final smoke and tossed the cigarette over the edge. "Now how am I supposed to get down?" he wondered out loud.

THE END.