simple twist of fate

by red-starshine

part 17: deathwish

Chas quickly reviewed his plan: run towards the angel, and hope that he could stab the angel before he realized what was going on.

It was not a very good plan, the Sword agreed, but they were pressed for time. It would have to do.

He swung out from behind the tree, raising the Sword of Night as he sprinted towards the angel and John. The angel's back was only a few feet away from the razor-sharp edge of the Sword, and he began to feel hopeful that his stupid plan might actually work.

Until the angel's head turned slightly, one gold eye looking at him. The angel suddenly vanished, leaving Chas's sword to pass through empty air. For one moment, he saw John, still on the ground with his hands spread across the sigil burning into the brown grass. John's eyes were wide, and Chas saw his mouth open. "Behi-"

Chas realized there was a dagger's blade sticking between his shoulder blades, cutting through skin, muscle and bone only a few moments before the pain began. It radiated from the dagger cut through the rest of his body as warm blood quickly ran from the wound. The angel twisted the dagger, driving the point further in. Chas succeeded in mostly stifling a scream, but a tiny whine of pain managed to escape from his mouth.

"Chas!" John shouted, his voice hoarse. "You fucking son of a bitch, stop hurting him!"

Chas's fingers spasmed, and the Sword of Night dropped to ground. His vision began to swim as his heart stuttered inside his chest.

"I don't take kindly to friends of John Constantine who try to stab me," said the angel smoothly.

Chas tried to move, tried to say something, but he couldn't. As his sight began to dim, the dead trees of the Crossroads still swirling jerkily around him, he saw John's face clearly.

The angel pulled the dagger free from Chas's back. Chas felt his body falling, landing on top of the Sword of Night, and then everything went black.

It should feel familiar, considering he'd died before, but it didn't. He felt like he was struggling to keep his head above water and a moment of rest would pull him down to a place he'd never come back from. He had no idea if the spell that'd brought him back to life the first time would work again – healing cuts and bruises were one thing, fixing a fatal stab wound was another.

'I screwed this up,' he thought sourly, struggling against the pull of the darkness.

"Not really," said a woman's voice. "You just need another chance, I think." A pale arm reached out to him, fingernails painted black. A woman smiled gently at him, her eyes heavily lined with kohl and a small spiral painted under one eye. Around her neck was a silver ankh pendant. "Up we go!" she said cheerfully.

The darkness fell away. To his surprise, Chas woke up, his face buried in the grass. He could feel the Sword of Night underneath him, and no pain from where the angel had stabbed him.

The angel was standing only a few feet away, between Chas and John. "Everyone who stands by your side dies, John. Every single time," he said. "Why'd you think he'd be any different?"

The angel thought Chas was dead, and was no longer a threat. That would work to his advantage. Silently, he rose behind the angel, picking up the Sword of Night.

He heard John audibly scoff and say, "Because, you idiot, this isn't the first time he's died."

With al the strength he could muster, Chas plunged the Sword through the angel's feathered wing and into its back, where a heart would've been if the angel was human.