Constantine/CW - Shadows of Redemtion

The lights in Ravenscar flickered ominously as John Constantine sat in group therapy, visibly detached from the circle of patients. The asylum walls bore the weight of unspoken anguish, and John's gaze fixated on a crack in the tile floor. He absently tapped his cigarette against his lighter, earning a disapproving glance from Dr. Roger Huntoon.

"John, we've been over this. No smoking in the group session."

John looked up with a faint smirk.

"Oh, I'm sorry, doc. Are you worried about me burning this place down? Believe me, that'd be doing everyone here a favor."

The room tensed, the other patients avoiding John's gaze. Dr. Huntoon sighed, folding his hands on his clipboard.

"You can keep deflecting with sarcasm, but it won't help. Let's talk about Astra."

The smirk vanished. John's knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrest of his chair.

"There's nothing to talk about. She's gone. Damned because of me. End of story."

The tension in the room thickened until a faint scratching noise broke through the silence. John's eyes darted to the wall, where a trail of cockroaches emerged from a crack, scurrying purposefully toward the door.

His instincts kicked in immediately.

John: "And on that note, doc, I think our session's over."

He stood abruptly, ignoring Dr. Huntoon's protests, and followed the trail of cockroaches through the dim corridors of the asylum.

---

The air grew colder the deeper John ventured into the asylum. The cockroaches led him to a door at the end of the hall, where muffled voices echoed. He pushed it open to find a teenage girl sitting on the floor, her back hunched unnaturally. Her eyes glowed crimson, and her voice carried a distorted, guttural tone.

"Well, aren't you a charmer? What's your name, love?"

The girl's head snapped up, her lips curling into a grotesque grin.

"Constantine… the failure. You've been marked."

John lit his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke as he muttered under his breath.

"You lot never get tired of hearing yourselves talk, do you?"

He began reciting an incantation, his voice steady and commanding. The girl shrieked, her body contorting as the demon resisted.

Before John could finish, the door creaked open behind him.

Elias: "Do you always make a habit of leaving loose ends for me to clean up?"

John turned, visibly startled.

John: "Bloody hell, Elias. What are you doing here?"

Elias Ward stepped into the room, his wand twirling between his fingers. His dark coat swayed as he moved confidently, the faint glow of a spell circle forming beneath his boots.

"Oh, you know, just tracking down the man who decided to disappear for four years without a word. Imagine my surprise when I find you in an asylum."

The girl let out an unholy scream, her body levitating as the demon fought back.

Sighing Elias said, "We'll talk later."

Raising his wand, Elias chanted in a language that hummed with power. A golden-red spell circle expanded beneath him, lines of intricate runes shimmering as he directed his energy toward the possessed girl.

"Ignis Vinculum!"

Chains of flame erupted from the circle, wrapping around the girl and immobilizing her. The demon howled in rage as the flames burned away its influence, leaving the girl unconscious on the floor.

"Not bad, mate."

"You're welcome. Now, care to explain why you've been hiding in here instead of doing your job?"

The air in the asylum's corridors was stifling, the kind that clung to the lungs and made every breath a chore. John Constantine adjusted his trench coat, muttering a half-hearted spell to steady his nerves as he lit another cigarette. Behind him, Elias Ward walked silently, his expression unreadable.

The young girl John had just exorcised was being wheeled away on a stretcher, her unconscious form pale and frail. A few asylum orderlies whispered nervously in the corner, stealing wary glances at the two men.

"Another bloody kid. It's like they've got a dartboard down in Hell with their faces pinned to it."

Elias watched the stretcher disappear around the corner, then turned his sharp gaze to John.

"You sure this is just demons being their usual sadistic selves? Feels… off."

John inhaled deeply, the cherry of his cigarette glowing faintly in the dim light.

"Oh, it's never 'just' anything, mate. Demons love their games, but this one felt different. The little lady was carrying a message—not her own, mind you. Something big's stirring, and this was their way of letting me know."

Elias crossed his arms, leaning casually against the peeling wall.

"A message for you? That's an awfully specific delivery method. What makes you so special?"

John shot him a wry grin, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, I did manage to piss off most of the infernal hierarchy at one point or another. Occupational hazard of being the bloke who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

Elias smirked faintly but didn't let the humor linger.

"So what did this message say? Or are we guessing cryptic nonsense again?"

John flicked the ash from his cigarette onto the floor, pacing in small circles.

"Didn't say much, just a name. 'Liv.' But that's the thing, innit? I don't know a bloody Liv. Never heard the name before in my life."

Elias frowned, pulling his wand from his coat and tracing idle sigils in the air as he thought.

"Demons don't waste time on random names, John. If they're pointing you toward someone, it's either bait or someone's head is on the chopping block."

John stopped pacing, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I'm betting it's the latter. This doesn't feel like a trap. Feels like… a bloody warning."

Elias raised an eyebrow.

"A warning to you or to them?"

John didn't answer immediately, his expression clouded as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"That's the question, innit? Either someone wants me to play guardian angel for this Liv, or they're setting me up to fail again. Either way, someone's going to be in for a nasty surprise."

Elias snorted.

"Because you're so reliable when it comes to happy endings."

John shot him a glare, though there was no real heat behind it.

"You've got a real knack for kicking a bloke when he's down, you know that?"

Elias replied with a shrug"I call it like I see it."

The two lapsed into silence, the tension between them palpable but unspoken. Finally, Elias broke the quiet, his tone softer.

"You think it's connected? To Astra?"

John froze, the name hitting him like a physical blow. He didn't turn to face Elias, instead staring at the floor as if the answer might appear in the cracked tiles.

"Astra's gone. This… this is something else. At least, I hope it is."

Elias pushed off the wall, standing upright and fixing John with a steady gaze.

"Hoping won't change a damn thing, John. If it's connected, you need to be ready. You can't afford to screw this up."

John finally looked at him, his usual bravado stripped away for a moment.

"You think I don't know that? Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Every time I do one of these bloody exorcisms, I hear her screams. I know what's at stake."

Elias nodded, his expression unreadable.

"Good. Then let's figure out who Liv is before the demons get to her first."

---

Later that night, the two men sat in a dingy pub, the kind of place where the air smelled of stale beer and old wood. John nursed a glass of whiskey while Elias studied a series of runes carved into the table between them.

"This demon you just sent packing—it wasn't working alone. There's a pattern to this, I can feel it."

John took a sip of his drink, letting the burn ground him.

"Patterns are your thing, mate. I'm more of a 'wing it and hope for the best' kind of bloke."

"Yes, and look how well that's worked out for you."

John gave him a sour look but didn't argue.

"Fine. What's the pattern then, Mr. Wizard?"

Elias tapped the runes with his wand, each one lighting up faintly as he spoke.

"This isn't just random chaos. The demons are targeting specific people—kids, mostly—and they're all tied to some kind of latent magical potential. This Liv… she's probably on their list."

John frowned, leaning back in his chair.

"Magical potential? What kind?"

Elias shrugged.

"Could be anything. Bloodline magic, a dormant gift, maybe just dumb luck. Either way, it makes her a beacon for things that go bump in the night."

John ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing.

"So we've got a mystery girl with a bullseye on her back, demons crawling out of the woodwork, and no bloody clue who's pulling the strings. Just another Tuesday, then."

Elias smirked faintly.

"Sounds about right. So what's the plan?"

John downed the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass onto the table with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We find Liv, figure out why she's so bloody important, and make whoever's behind this regret ever drawing my attention. You in?"

Elias leaned back, crossing his arms with a faint smile.

"You're going to get us killed one of these days, Constantine."

"Probably. But not today."

And with that, the two left the pub, their path uncertain but their resolve firm.