A/N: This just ran through my head the other day, please let me know what you think... I haven't read any fanfics at all for Constantine, so if yours is like this, I'm sorry, and if you let me know I'll take it off.
Disclaimer: I don't own Constantine, otherwise Chas would never have died. Please don't sue me, because I have no money. No, seriously. NOTHING in the bank.
So. This is what the devil really looks like.
No, it isn't, he reminded hiself. He's the Deciever, remember?
It doesn't matter. You've got an eternity in hell to figure him out.
He inclined his head towards Angela's still form. "Her sister, Isabel."
"Yeah, what about her?"
"Send her home."
"You would give up your soul for hers?"
He nodded.
Lucifer twisted his neck backwards, his mouth slightly open, staring at the ceiling. "...There. It's done. Now. It's time to go, John."
He supposed the hand dragging him should have felt cold; but at the moment, he found nothing unusual about it, probably because he was dead. The unusual part was when the floor began to shore up in front of him. Lucifer pulled incessantly - which was slightly uncomfortable, considering that, not five minutes before, he had slit his wrists - but nothing gave. He was stuck.
Was he going up?
He heard Lucifer say something, but he didn't know what. The blinding light ahead was overwhelming.
"No. This one belongs to me!"
In response, he stuck his hand out behind himself and raised the middle finger, thinking that rude gestures had never felt so good.
"No!"
Lucifer grabbed him. Dragged him back. No, no, no.
"You live, John Constantine," he snarled, as the light disappeared.
John never heard the unholy sound of agony that came from his lips as those hands went under his skin and into his lungs, ripping out the disease and healing the wounds.
Now that he felt them, the hands were cold.
He laid there for a moment after Lucifer disappeared, recovering and thinking. He was alive, and, with luck, would continue to be for at least a while longer; Gabriel had been stopped; Chas... Chas was dead - gone to heaven or hell, he didn't know - but his death probably could have been prevented; Angela - Angela.
He forced hiself to stand and made his way to the next room, his heart heavy. He didn't know, now, where he would go.
It's alright. One step at a time.
He knew he wouldn't take anything for granted anymore; he would live for that day and that day only, because tomorrow wasn't guaranteed.
He would survive. Just one more day.
A/N: So what did you think? Let me know, please!