Author's Note: I've decided to try my hand at a longer Constantine fic. There will be some Constantine whump in the future and I hope I do the characters justice.

Warnings: Bit of language, bit of violence and gore and probably a few dots of angst here and there.

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1. Breakfast and Appetites

John plopped down with his breakfast, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at his toast, pressing his lips together in mild distaste. He wasn't really that hungry, his stomach rejecting the very idea of eggs on toast. Not that he cared. Shrugging, he took a large bite and chewed slowly as if to snub his own appetite.

Take that, you bloody bastard.

"Huh." Chas muttered.

John looked over at Chas, watching the taller man sipping away at his coffee. The demonologist looked back down at his breakfast, his thoughts rambling. Tea sounded nice. But that seemed like too much effort for the moment. Instead, he took another bite of toast.

"There's another spot on the map." Chas stated casually, taking another swig of his coffee. John sighed, slouching wearily. Of course the map chose today to announce their next case. It had to wait until John had spent half the night staring at the damn mirror above the fireplace. Seeing Gaz's sweaty mug in the reflection seemed to give way to unproductive, fleeting hours. And even when John had managed a little shuteye, it was shallow and mottled with nightmares. His dreams were always a sour reminder of his failures. Nothing like screams to keep you awake.

Smirking nervously to himself, John returned to his breakfast. He could use a drink. But Chas would probably say something at this time in the morning.

"You hear me, John?"

Constantine looked up at Chas, still halfway through his next bite. "Yeah, mate. I heard you."

Chas frowned, carefully appraising the blond. "You up late?"

John grinned, tucking his weary self behind a bit of fake enthusiasm. "When am I not?"

Chas raised his eyebrows, nodding to himself. "True, I guess."

"Any idea what it is?" John asked, shoving another bite into his mouth. He grimaced, chewing slower as his stomach began swirling uncomfortably. He dropped the toast unceremoniously to the plate, casually sitting back in his seat. Damn, failing appetite.

"I haven't heard anything, but that's not a surprise considering where our next case looks to be." Chas replied, gulping down another mouthful of coffee.

John leaned forward to peer around his friend as he caught movement from the shadows. He grinned. "Oh, look who decided to join us."

Zed walked barefoot across the floor, yawning widely as she went. "Good morning." she sighed, immediately parking herself sloppily on the couch.

"Long night, love?" John inquired, nearly reaching for his toast before he remembered he wasn't hungry for it.

"I guess. Kept having visions of these creepy woods. Or maybe it was just a random, weird dream for once." Zed sighed. John threw her doubtful look.

"I wouldn't count on it." he mumbled, resting his elbows on the table. "Anyway, we've got a new case."

"Really? Where is it?" Zed probed, looking to Chas.

"Looks like we're going…" Chas glanced down at the map. "northwest. Washington, to be exact."

John groaned, rolling his eyes as he pushed the abhorrent toast further away from him. "Anywhere decent?" he grumbled, leaning back against his chair.

"Looks like a small town." Chas replied. "Hardly a dot on the map."

John released a heavy breath, hanging his head in irritation. "Alright, we'll snag the first flight up."

"I'll pack!" Zed yelled, jumping up from her seat and trotting off to her room excitedly.

John looked up at her, mouth already open to stop her. Hesitantly, he closed his mouth, wondering if maybe, this time, he should let her tag along. After a moment's thought, he dropped his shoulders with a sigh.

"Bloody hell, why not." He muttered. She was always eager to go. It was almost more painful to keep her away from the danger, even if it gave him peace of mind.

He stood from his seat, snatching up his bag as he mentally made a list of things to pack. He could feel Chas watching him, absorbing the way John hastily grabbed the supernatural necessities.

"She can take care of herself, John." Chas said quietly. "She wouldn't go if she wasn't willing to risk her health…or her life for that matter."

"That's the bloody problem, isn't it?" John mumbled with a dull smirk, nearly dropping a ceremonial bowl into his bag.

Now, Chas, he never had to worry about. After absorbing all those lives in the fire, Chas was pretty damn invincible for the next several deaths. Zed didn't have a backup plan like that. She dies, she dies. The tumor in her brain wasn't helping much either.

"She'll be fine." Chas muttered. Hidden meaning sat behind his words, whispering of Chas's loyalty. John knew it was a quiet promise of protection. If Zed got too close for comfort, Chas would be the one to pull her back. And if pulling her back wasn't an option, he'd die in her place.

John sighed. Of course Chas would protect her. He always would.

Chas slapped a hand on his shoulder, causing the demonologist to look up from his packing.

"I think we should be worrying more about you." Chas suggested, raising a brow. John promptly shook him off.

"I've survived all these years, haven't I?" he grumbled, turning away from his friend to focus on the task at hand.

Chas pressed his lips together thoughtfully.

"You okay to do this case, John?" he asked. The exorcist turned slowly, his movement almost dangerous in nature.

"You think I'm not, mate?" he inquired suspiciously.

"Never said that." Chas countered casually. "Just wanted to be sure you're okay. I mean, it hasn't been that long since the last one and you did electrocute yourself."

John tilted his head as his mouth pressed itself into a thin line. "Zed tell you?"

"When doesn't she?" Chas chuckled, plucking up a book to hand to John. The demonologist took it indifferently, tucking it into his bag.

"Tattletale." He grumbled. Chas simply smiled humorously.

"If you're not up for it, it's okay to say so, John."

John offered a crooked smile, patting Chas on the bicep. "Thanks, mate. But I'll be just fine." he replied with a bite of mock enthusiasm, walking past his friend.

Chas swallowed a sigh. He should've known John wouldn't admit his weakness so easily. The man only asked for real help when he absolutely had to. Usually, that meant innocent people were in serious danger. While John was stubborn, he wasn't prideful. He didn't take stupid risks if lives were at stake. Unless it was his own. John couldn't give a damn about his own mortality and Chas had a hard time swallowing the fact.

"Well, if you change your mind…" he mumbled, his words trailing off into hopelessness.

"Yeah." John droned, distracted with his packing. Chas watched him for awhile, deciding whether or not he should forcefully intervene with the man's own self-destruction.

Perhaps he should give it a little more time.

After all, he had some things he had to pack for himself.