Chapter Text
Sweat was dripping down your bare back, and you shuddered as it gave you chills. At least that was somewhat refreshing given the ungodly heat. It was the middle of winter, there was snow outside. And yet, your new place’s heat was apparently too eager to help out. You had already called your landlord three times to ask about the windows. They looked pretty new, and there was no reason they shouldn’t unlock and open. Of which they did neither.
You were new in town, having just moved away after a bad breakup. You were starting fresh. New place, new town, and hopefully soon, a new job and some friends.
Your place was nice. It was a little house, really, though no more than one person could live comfortably inside it. You’d broken into the attic, which for some reason your landlord had seen fit to deny you access to, for even more space, went through all the weird shit in there, and placed some of your lesser used items in there for storage.
Along with the new, you were getting rid of the old. By the door, you’d dropped the box you were going to take to donate. It had a lot of stuff that just wasn’t your style and didn’t fit you anymore. You picked up some of the clothes to look at them one more time. It would be better, you thought. The future would be better once you got going in this new life.
You had considered leaving the house to go somewhere where it wasn’t ninety degrees and rising, but the snow had made that impossible. Every time you went outside, you froze, only to come back in to nearly burn. It was a nightmare.
Still, you were making the best of what you could. You’d closed your blinds and donned only some panties, trying your best to keep cool.
In between adding more clothes to the donation pile, and sticking what would fit of your body into the fridge, you heard the doorbell ring.
Who the fuck would be going around in the storm? You wondered. Maybe a neighbor needed some help. You were new, though. Who would ask you for help?
You walked quietly over to your front door, and looked through the peephole. A blonde man stood outside, his face illuminated by the flame of his lighter currently igniting his cigarette. He looked at you, as if he could see you through the door.
He rang the doorbell again.
“FBI, open up,” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound like an FBI agent at all. Mainly, British.
Not being up on the FBI’s policy on hiring foreigners, you didn’t want to take your chances. You grabbed the first thing out of the donation box you could, and slipped it on. The crop top nearly covered your breasts if you didn’t move your arms too much. It would have to do for now, as the man was knocking quite violently on the door.
Sweat was already seeping through your thin shirt. You looked quickly in the box but didn’t see any pants. Maybe if you just opened the door to show your face, you could answer whatever questions he had and then let him leave without seeing you. Or, you could at least do that to tell him you needed a minute to get changed.
Opening the door only slightly, you peaked your head through, hiding the rest of you body behind the door. The cool air rushed onto your skin, causing an involuntary smile to appear.
“Can I help you?” you asked politely.
The man breathed out smoke as he tapped his cigarette ashes onto the snow. Once the smoke cleared he took a step forward.
He held up a badge that looked quite official to you.
“John Constantine, FBI. Can I come in, luv?” he asked.
You could sense his urgency, but he didn’t show it. Biting your lip, you glanced down.
“Um, I’m not quite dressed, can I just…”
“It’s an emergency,” he insisted. “Your life is in danger.”
You furrowed your brows.
“What?” you asked. “From who?”
He looked irritated at such a question, and sucked hard on his cigarette.
“Listen, you just need to trust me, okay? Is it a million degrees in there?”
You blinked. Surely he deduced that by the sweat on your face?
“Y-yes,” you stuttered. Why was this an FBI matter? “I think the heater’s broken.”
“But none of the windows will open?”
“That’s right,” you said. “Do you know my landlord or something?”
He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head.
“Not in the slightest. Now please, let me in.”
You were hesitating. Something about this man didn’t seem legit. He’d shown you a badge, but so had several actors on TV shows. It’s not like they weren’t able to be copied.
“Umm,” you flinched. “Could I just see that badge again--”
You were interrupted by a huge banging sound coming from behind and above you. When your grip loosened on the door, the man took the opportunity to push in, causing you to stumble backwards. He didn’t seem interested in you, however, and instead started looking around the place. He felt the wood of the moldings, putting his ear to the wall. While you were walking slowly towards him, trying to figure out what on earth was happening, you heard another bang.
He stood upright and turned to you. His eyes flicked up to the stairs behind you, and before you knew it, two things had happened.
One: accompanied by another bang, a dark black energy had flown down the stairs, and headed straight towards you. Two: John Constantine had grabbed you by the waist and pushed you out of the way, pinning you against the wall next to the stairs and out of its path.
Your chest was pounding, and it took a moment for your eyes to focus on his face. It was so close to yours. In that moment, everything was frozen. You could smell him, cigarettes and whiskey. You could feel his calloused hands on your bare hips. You could feel his damp trench coat against your chest. Your faces were mere inches apart, and while you were staring at your savior, his eyes were elsewhere: On the thing that had just left a huge hole in the side of your apartment wall.
Releasing you from his hold, Constantine walked over to the hole. Leading right to the outside, the drywall looked like it had been hit with a five foot wide cannon ball.
He had lost his cigarette in all the excitement, and reached into his pocket for a new one, lighting it as easily as breathing.
You stood with your back against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe. He didn’t seem at all concerned, and instead, studied the hole in the wall.
“W-what was that?” you nearly whispered.
He turned around as if just remembering you were there.
“A demon,” he answered flatly. “I told you you were in danger.”
You didn't have any words for him at the moment, you just blinked and nodded. When his eyes flickered down your body, you were reminded that you were nearly naked in front of this stranger who had just saved your life.
But that wasn’t what concerned him.
He walked swiftly over to you, and hovered his hand over your abdomen. You glanced down to see what he was looking at, and at the same time, as if your brain had just caught up with the sight, the pain set in.
On your abdomen were three big slashes, probably four inches long, and wide open. The searing pain made you almost blind, and you stumbled forward. He caught you, and carefully lifted you with an arm under you head, and legs.
“We need to move quickly,” he said, though his face was blurry and his words meant nearly nothing to you. “That thing will be back to finish the job. Must have just gotten out after quite a stint, it was disoriented. I need to get you to my place to get those wounds dealt with.”
You were sure you were nodding, but he didn’t seem to react. Maybe your head was just spinning. All you knew was that you felt extreme cold as he carried you out of the house. There was a big yellow car waiting outside, and another man helped carry you into the back seat where you laid down.
Something was laid on top of you as a makeshift blanket, and that was the last you remembered before you heard one more big bang, and passed out.