This story has been written and posted purely for fun and not for profit. Don't sue me cuz I ain't got nuttin!'

About this story: It is not necessary to have an in depth knowledge of either X Files or John Constantine: Hellblazer continuity to enjoy this story but the reader who is a fan of both may enjoy it more than the casual fan of one or the other.

A few words about continuity: This story takes place shortly after the events depicted in last summer's X Files movie but before those shown in Nov. 98's sixth season premiere. It also takes place shortly after John Constantine: Hellblazer #133 (the conclusion to the Son of Man storyline).

Lastly, X Files clearly takes place in what could be considered the real world. By contrast, John Constantine, having first appeared in issues of Swamp Thing several years ago, has roots in the mainstream DC Universe which is also occupied by the likes of Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, etc. For the purpose of this story, the reader should assume the events are taking place in a universe that more closely mirrors the X Files' world(i.e. our own). Otherwise, you'd have to assume that Mulder and Scully occupy the same universe as Superman, et al and, if so, that fact would have no doubt influenced FBI investigations into paranormal activity in a significantly different way. In other words, in that world there would be no need for Mulder to try to prove the existence of aliens since it would be a publicly-known fact that Superman is an alien, Wonder Woman is an immortal Amazon with powers derived from Greek Gods, Green Lantern'spower ring was built by extraterrestrials, etc, etc. Not that I'm sweating the small S*&@ but sometimes establishing this type of thing up front helps the reader to understand the nature of the universe in which crossovers like this take place.

This is my first foray into fan fiction and I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to send any kudos, comments, criticisms or whatever to KCockrel@AOL.COM   Thanks and peace out. Now, enjoy.

John Constantine sat at the end of the bar finishing his third pint ofGuinness and watching the smoke from his cigarette drift lazily about his head.

Bailey's was not his favorite pub but the bartenders didn't ask too many questions, the waitresses were reasonably attractive, and the beer didn't taste like watered-down piss. For a skilled drinker like Constantine, these were major points in the establishment's favor.

He was a reasonably handsome if somewhat haggard looking blonde man ofindeterminate age. He might have been in his mid-thirties or maybe even his mid-forties. Part of what made it difficult to tell was his eyes.

Constantine's eyes were the eyes of the haunted. When he looked at you he seemed to not only see you but to see beyond at other things, at dark, terrible things that flicked in and out of the edge of his vision.

Constantine's eyes were the eyes of a man who had seen and done too much. And the truth was his eyes couldn't even begin to tell half the story.

He waved at the bartender, signaling his need for a refill. As he didso he caught sight of a man entering Bailey's. The man was unfamiliar and looked to be in his mid-fifties. He wore a black trenchcoat over a dark blue suit.

While there was nothing about the man's dress to suggest inordinatewealth, he carried himself like someone who held great power and authority. Somehow Constantine knew, knew with the intuition of one who has been in and out of deep shit one time too many, that this man was trouble. He also knew that this man going to take the barstoolnext to his.

Within moments the man did exactly that. After sitting, he removed abook of matches and pack of cigarettes from inside his coat. He lit a cigarette and then set the pack and the matches on the counter.

Constantine noticed the label, an unfamiliar red and white design, and the brand name: Morley. It rang no bells with him and he figured they must have been imported.

The bartender brought Constantine's refill. "There you are, John." He then turned to the other man. "Something for you then, sir?"

"Yes," the man replied. "A pint of Bass. And when Mr. Constantinefinishes his, bring him another of whatever he's having."

Constantine, who'd intended down the entire pint, drop his money on the counter, and then beat it out of there, nearly choked in mid-gulp. How the bloody hell does this tosser know me? he wondered.

"Appreciate the thought, mate," he said as he stubbed out his cigarette, "but I can pay for me own."

"Then at least have another pint with me, Mr. Constantine," the man said with a swallow.

Constantine was trying to place the man's unusual, clipped accent.Definitely not British but not American either. Canadian, perhaps?

"Cigarette?" the man offered and slid his pack across the counter.

"No thanks," said Constantine. "Not my brand."

"Oh, of course," the man replied and looked to Constantine's own pack of cigarettes on the counter. "I forgot. You're a Silk Cut man. Still doing three packs a day? I'll have to try them during my visit. Tough to get them where I'm from."

"No offense, mate," said Constantine. "But who the bloody hell are you and how do you know so much about me?"

The bartender nervously eyed Constantine as he brought the other man'sale. His eyes darted back and forth between the two men and he left quickly.

The man's lips curled into a grin. "I represent a group of men who'vebeen monitoring your activities for some time now with great interest, Mr. Constantine. It seems you lead a most unusual life."

"No more so than others."

"Quite the contrary," the man replied. "Anyway, my associates and Ihave been tracking the approach of... well, shall we say, a coming storm. This storm threatens to leave no man or woman on this planet untouched and no corner of the globe unscathed.

"To survive this storm, my associates and I plan to build alliances, make friends in high places or... in low ones. Which is where you come in."

Christ, Constantine thought, a sodding demon sniffer. By now he hadheard enough. He threw a handful of crumpled bills on the counter and stepped down from his barstool

"Sorry, mate."

"But you haven't even heard our offer."

"Piss off," Constantine snarled and turned to leave.

As the man watched Constantine exit, his grin faded but only slightly.Internally he was smoldering.

He'd read the reports on Constantine and knew full well the man wasrash, arrogant, and rude. But the reports had not done him justice. The man was a pig. The older man would have liked nothing better than to see a bullet put squarely between Constantine's eyes.

Well, actually, he might have preferred to see a bullet put in theBriton's gut first, followed by a bullet between the eyes. He knew, however, that this was out of the question. Constantine was simply too dangerous and his orders were very strict.

If Constantine declined their offer, he was to proceed with Plan B.

"Very well, then," he whispered to himself as he reached for anothercigarette. "Plan B it is."

He lit the cigarette and inhaled. It tasted strange. Different.

He drew it from his mouth and looked at the pack on the counter beforehim. "Silk Cut," he said to himself with surprise.

ooo

Even for a London Summer, the night was unusually cool and punctuatedwith sharp, high winds. Constantine drew the collar of his rumpled trenchcoat tight about his neck and walked quickly.

The encounter in the bar had left him not only rattled but pissed. Asmuch as possible, he'd always tried to keep his activities out of the public eye. Nevertheless, in the occult community as in any other, word had a way of getting around. Sometimes it got to the wrong people.

Still, the man who'd confronted him didn't seem didn't seem like atypical demon sniffer. Unless... unless... maybe he wasn't a demon sniffer at all.

Maybe the whole thing was just a bloody shakedown, he thought. Maybethe man was actually a cop.

It made sense. Some of Constantine's recent activities had forced himto deal with certain criminal elements.

There was that whole Ronnie Cooper fiasco that had ended with half ofLondon's underworld slaughtered in a gang war instigated by a demon with a three-foot todger and a bad attitude. The evil bastard also came with within a pubic hair of buggering him and his mate Chas.

Constantine shivered at the thought. But what if the bloke with thefunny cigarettes was in reality a cop sent to feel him out, to find out exactly what his role might have been in that whole mess. Scotland Yard? Special Branch?

"Bastards," he said aloud as he walked along the darkened streets."Sodding bastards."

Of course, there was always the possibility that he was wrong. But he knew just who to go see to find out if he was right.

ooo

Donnie Jordan trudged wearily up the stairs toward his flat, guitar case in hand.

Tonight's gig had been something of a disappointment. Okay, it had been a disaster. His band had played like crap. Not that it mattered given that the few people who'd turned up at the club were more interested in downing their pints and beating the piss out of each other than they were in listening to him and his mates.

Things had changed. Gigs were coming fewer and further between thesedays. This was not entirely unexpected. Donnie's band, Wolfsblood, played heavy metal, a musical genre that was increasingly out of favor with contemporary music fans.

These days it seemed like everyone wanted to listen to DJs playing that damned techno crap and stumble about like monkeys in a strobe-lit jungle. Sod em all, he thought. In his opinion a hundred DJ whatevers weren't worth one Black Sabbath.

Still that was the way things were. And it left him out in the cold.He was going to have to do something. Things were getting desperate.

He fumbled in his pockets for the key to his apartment. As he did so,he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. There was something in the shadows of a nearby alcove. In the center of the darkness, a red light suddenly intensified in brightness, the tell-tale sign of someone dragging on a lit cigarette. An older man, dressed in a black trenchcoat and dark blue suit stepped from the shadows.

"Donnie Jordan?" the man asked."Yeah," Donnie replied warily.

"I have an offer for you."

ooo

Scotland Yard Detective Phoebe Green cursed under her breath as shefastened a terry cloth bathrobe about her and walked to her front door. She hadn't seen John Constantine in nearly a year and in her opinion that hadn't been long enough.

She thought back and wondered why she'd even deigned to date the likesof him even though it had never been serious. It wasn't just that Constantine drank and smoke too much. It was also that he was perhaps the most closed-off man she'd ever met. As much as she tried, she'd never been able to get him reveal any facets of his lifeto her beyond that of the reasonably cute, pub-crawling, chain-smokingcharmer who seemed to know just what to say. She never even learned what he did for a living before they finally stopped seeing each other.

And then, moments earlier, he'd turned up like a bad coin. Banging away on her flat buzzer at nearly midnight demanding to see her. Even before he knocked she knew he'd made it up the steps and was at the door. She opened it and he tornadoed in, stinking of cigarettes and beer, unbuttoned trenchcoat flapping behind him like some lunatic flag.

"Alright, Phoebe," he said. "You tell whatever git you answer to downthe yard to stay off my arse."

"Excuse me," she said.

"You know bloody well what I'm talking about. One of your mates stopped down by Bailey's tonight. Asking all sorts of questions. Whatever you're sniffing after, I've got nothing to do with it."

"John," Phoebe said, "with all due respect I don't have the slightestbloody idea what you're on about. I'm also about this close to throwing you down the stairs. Now if you don't slow down and tell me what you're talking about, I'm going to do precisely that."

At that Constantine sighed and took a seat on Phoebe's couch. She was a woman but she was also one of Scotland Yard's top operatives. He had no doubt she could do a Diana Rigg if she got too annoyed with him. Shifting gears was definitely in order.

"Sorry luv," he said in a softer voice. "Might you have any tea?"

Though she almost thought better of it, Phoebe proceeded to make themboth some tea. When she returned with two steaming cups, Constantine began his story.

He recounted the night's events ending with his hasty exit fromBailey's. Since he had never revealed to her the more mystical aspects of his activities and didn't want to do so now, he bent the truth a bit but still managed to capture the essence of what had happened.

"Well, John," she said. "I don't have the slightest idea who the manwas or what he was doing. He doesn't sound like anyone I've ever seen or met before."

"You positive?"

"Positive. Although if you'd like, I'll ask around a bit when I getback in the office in a few days."

"Can't you do it tomorrow?"

"I won't be in the office tomorrow. A friend of mine from the Statesis flying in for a few days. I'm picking him up at Heathrow."

Constantine looked defeated as he downed the last of his cup.

"Oh alright, John. Maybe I'll call in tomorrow morning and see what Ican find out. Really though. I think you're over-reacting a bit. The old dodger may have just been using some roundabout way to pick you up. You should be flattered."

"Bollocks," Constantine laughed. "He wasn't my type."

"And who might your type be these days?"

He flashed her a sly smile as he wondered about the identity of this "friend from the States." "You, luv," he said.

"Please," Phoebe laughed coldly. "Really, John. You're quite pathetic you know that."

"Yeah, but I've got my good points," he said pulling his cigarettes from the folds of his coat.

"I don't allow smoking in my flat," she said sharply.

Again, Constantine flashed her his wounded puppy dog look. Phoebesighed. He's good , she thought. I'll give him that.

"Just one then," she said.

"Thanks luv," he said lighting up. "You're a princess.

"Bloody Hell," he said then.

"Something wrong?"

"Bleedin' cigarette tastes like crap," he said. He pulled it from hismouth and looked at it. His eyes widened and then he noticed the label on the pack he'd set on the coffee table in front of him. "Morley," he whispered.

ooo

"I really appreciate your dropping me off, Scully," said FBI Agent FoxMulder as his partner pulled her car to the curb of the airport's terminal.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mulder," FBI Agent Dana Scully replied. "Ijust had to see it with my own eyes."

"See what exactly."

"The notoriously workaholic Fox Mulder leaving for an honest to goodness vacation," Scully said with a wry smile. "Sure you're not secretly planning on looking up Jack the Ripper while you're in London?"

"And here I thought I could get it past you, Scully," laughed Mulder."I have it on good authority that the Ripper is alive and well and working as a roadie for the Spice Girls."

Scully smiled. "So what hotel will you be staying at?"

"Actually I'll be staying with Phoebe. Phoebe Green. You remember her?"

"Ohhh," Scully's smile faded. "Of course. How could I forget?"

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Scully?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Mulder. But hey, at least try to steer clearof any pyrokinetic psychopaths this time."

"I will. Well, gotta go," he shook her hand. "Thanks."

He stepped out of the car, grabbed his bags from her back seat, andheaded for the terminal. When he was halfway there, he heard Scully call: "Mulder!"

He turned. Scully was leaning across the passenger seat to speak through the window. "Be careful," she said after a few seconds.

"It's a vacation, Scully. What could possibly happen?"

End of Part One

As Mulder sank comfortably onto Phoebe Green's living room couch, he was beginning to think he just might prove Scully wrong after all. His first day in London had been a blast.

He and Phoebe had spent most of their time revisiting sights he hadn'tseen since the days when they were both students at Oxford. Then they did a bit of pub crawling. And as they traveled throughout the city, Mulder felt as if an oppressive weight were gradually being lifted from his shoulders. It was good to not have to think about the X Files. Hell, it was even better to just be around someone who called him "Fox" instead of simply "Mulder."

Mulder smiled as Phoebe brought him a bottled lager from her kitchen."What're you trying to kill me? I haven't drunk this much since... well, since never..."

"When in Rome," Phoebe said. "It'll do you good."

"I have a feeling I won't think so tomorrow morning."

"I'm still a bit hungry," said Phoebe. "I'm going to make myself asandwich. Want anything?"

"No thanks," Mulder said before she disappeared into the kitchen. It was then that he noticed the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table before him. Immediately a feeling of dread crept through him. He took the pack in hand and stood up, examining it closely.

"I didn't know you started smoking, Phoebe," he called out to her.

"Oh those," she said. "They're not mine. A friend of mine stopped bylast night. He must have left them."

She laughed. "Thinking about it really gets me mad, Fox. This bloke I used to date, who I haven't seen in nearly a year, comes storming into my apartment raving about some strange man who represented some secret cabal, making allusions to demons and the end of the world. I mean it..."

The sound of breaking glass cut her words short. Phoebe ran into theliving room to find a standing Mulder, a shocked expression on his face. A spreading pool of lager and broken glass coated the floor near his feet.

"Fox... what is it?"

He turned to face her. "This friend of yours who stopped by last night. What's his name?"

"Constantine. John Constantine. Fox, what's wrong."

"I need to see him," Mulder replied. "Now."

ooo

Constantine, sprawled on his couch, was halfway through his seventh can of lager by the time he realized the pounding in his head was really at the door of his flat.

"All right, all right," he snarled and made for the door. An unfamiliar man, dressed in jeans, black leather jacket and a black turtleneck awaited him on the other side.

Mulder viewed Constantine with some shock. His first reaction was that he couldn't believe prim and proper Phoebe Green had ever dated this man. His hair was disheveled, his clothes heavily wrinkled, and he had clearly had one can of something too many.

"Are you John Constantine?" he asked.

"Look mate," Constantine said wearily. "Tell 'im I'll have his bleedin' rent next week."

"I'm not here to collect a bill," Mulder said. He entered the apartment before Constantine could shut the door. "My name is Fox Mulder. I'm an FBI Agent."

"You're a few thousand miles outside of your jurisdiction aren't you?And what the hell kind of a name is 'Fox'?"

Mulder looked around Constantine's apartment. The place was a bit of a mess, the floor strewn with empty beer cans and discarded clothes.Constantine was evidently a major smoker and cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air like a cloud.

His eyes were drawn to a book case stocked with many ancient boundtomes. He moved toward it.

"I'm not working a case. Well... at least not officially. I'm a friend of Phoebe Green's."

"Ohhhh. So you're the friend from the States," the Briton said withmore than a hint of jealousy in his voice. "This just gets lovelier and lovelier. So what d'ya want from me?"

"I need to ask you about the man who approached you in the pub lastnight."

"Y'mean the demon snif...," Constantine paused in mid-sentence. Mulder was eyeing him intently. "Y'mean the bloke with the weird accent? What is he wanted for having bad taste in cigarettes or something?"

Mulder thought about what he should tell Constantine. After all, while he didn't know everything about the mysterious "Cancer Man", what he did know would likely sound like paranoid delusions to the average person.

But Constantine was not the average person. On the surface, he lookednormal enough but one look at the man's library was enough to clue him in that this Englishman was seriously into the occult. And then there was that demon comment he'd almost blurted out. Though he'd barely known this man for five minutes, Mulder also felt as if he could trust him.

So he told him. Everything.

When he was finished, Constantine chuckled coldly and lit a cigarette."That's a hell of a story, Mulder. If I hadn't done... or rather heard my own share of wild ones I'd swear you were ready for the ready for rubber room."

Mulder looked squarely at Constantine. "Now I think it's time you told me your story."

"Nothing to tell really."

"I don't believe you. The man I'm looking for is clearly acting onbehalf of a larger...shall we say Syndicate? I believe these people are trying to broker a deal with demonic forces, possibly for protection against what they believe to be an imminent colonization by extra-terrestrial biological entities.

"The Cancer Man wouldn't have come to you unless he thought you had the power to summon demons with whom such a deal could be cut," Mulder added. "I want the truth, Constantine."

The Briton looked into his ashtray as he stubbed out his cigarette. He stared at it for a long time, watching the last of the smoke drift upward. Then he looked up.

"Awww hell, Agent Mulder. I guess you got me."

Good," said the FBI Agent. "Now let's get to work."

"Wait a minute. What d'ya mean 'Get to work'? This 'Cancer Man' asked me to do the job and I refused. It's over."

"I'm not so sure. Is it logical that he would've accepted your refusalso readily without an alternative? Is there another sorcerer he could go to who might do it, maybe someone in the area?"

"If yer gonna refer to me as something call me a 'magus,'" saidConstantine. "When I think of a sorcerer I think of some ponce with a long white beard, a pointed hat with stars on it and all that crap.

"And yeah there are other people he could go to. But folks who can dowhat we do don't work for just anyone -- especially someone they don't know. Anybody that would do it would have to be both stupid and desperate..."

He paused as a grim realization dawned on him.

"Stupid and desperate... Aww shite!"

ooo

"You sure this guy's a magus?" asked Mulder as he and Constantineclimbed the flight of stairs leading to Donnie's flat.

"He fancies himself such," Constantine replied. "But Donnie's strictly amateur hour. Which is why I hope to Christ the silly bastard wasn't asked by your Cancer Man to pull this off. The stupid wanker's liable to conjure up a Cthulu-class beastie that'd devour half of London."

Mulder's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack, mate. Raising demons is complicatedbusiness. Dial the wrong number and there could literally be hell to pay."

They fell silent as they approached Donnie's flat. When they neared the door they listened for sounds from inside. Hearing nothing, Mulder knocked. No response.

He knocked a second time and again got no response.

"Well it looks like we do this the hard way." He stepped back from thedoor, ready for a running start that would break it down.

"Hold it, Starsky," said Constantine. He reached for the doorknob."There's a thing you Yank law enforcement types should learn about doors."

"And that is?" Mulder asked.

Constantine turned the knob and pushed the door open. "That sometimesthey're unlocked."

As the two men stepped aside, the pungent smell of marijuana hit themlike a wave.

"Smells like a Grateful Dead concert," Constantine said reaching for acigarette.

"Let's split up and look around," said Mulder.

"Hmmm," the FBI Agent said a few minutes later. Constantine turned tosee him standing near a television.

"Find anything useful?"

"That depends on your perspective," Mulder replied with a grin. Heheld up a videotape. The box cover photo depicted a uniformed woman in a compromising position. "Swedish Stewardesses III: The Final Conflict."

Constantine grinned. Against his better judgment, he was beginning tolike Mulder.He turned toward a paper strewn table in the center of the room. He was beginning to think he might have been wrong about Donnie. From the looks of his flat it was questionable as to whether or not he was even in town.

He stubbed some ashes onto the top of an empty beer can when some of the papers caught his eye. He picked them up and read. It was tough to make out Donnie's handwriting but he clearly identified a number of words. Among them were "circle of power" and "Yagoth." There were also a road map on which was circled a site in a rural area several miles outside of London just off the Orbital Motorway.

He exhaled cigarette smoke. "Think I may have something here."

Mulder joined him at the table and squinted at the crude hand-writing."Mean anything to you?"

"Possibly. I think this Yagoth is definitely a demon of some sort. The name isn't familiar but the bastard may have left directions and an address to wherever this is going down."

"Oooohhhhhh," a voice groaned from a nearby room.

Slowly, Constantine and Mulder entered a dimly lit bedroom that wasstrewn with dirty clothes lager cans, and crumpled empty cigarette boxes. On the floor near the bed was a semi-conscious young man in his early twenties. The man was heavily tattooed and his long reddish-brown hair was plastered to his face.

"Christ," said Constantine. "It's Billy Rivington. One of Donnie'ssoddin' bandmates. Help me get him up."

"Looks like he's drunk," said Mulder who grabbed the man's legs whileConstantine got him by the shoulders, "or high."

"Knowing him and the lot he runs with probably both. Donnie and hisbandmates make me look like a monk."

They set him on the unmade bed which stank of spilled beer and otherliquids best left unnamed. Constantine blew cigarette smoke in Billy's face and slapped him a few times.

"What the...? Constantine. What are you doin' here?"

"I'm lookin' for Donnie, Billy. I need 'im for a gig."

"You? 'O's he?"

"A friend. Look we're short on time. Where's Donnie?"

"He took off. Had some business... to take care of before a gigmidnight tomorrow. Ayyy, 'ave you got anythin' to drink on yer?"

"This is a waste of time Constantine," Mulder said.

Constantine persisted. "Where's the gig?"

"Awww...," Billy giggled. "It's invitation only mate... D'ya have any drugs, man?"

"This wouldn't be a... "non-musical" gig would it?"

A cloud seemed fall across Billy's face. It was as if some semblance of caution finally penetrated whatever chemically induced state he was in. "I'm not tellin' you anythin' else."

"Look here, Billy you've got it all wrong. I know Donnie's gotsomething going. He rang me up earlier and told me. But he was in a hurry so we didn't get to talk much about it and I didn't get the details.

"But I know he wanted a couple of pointers. Y'know, trade secrets. Ijust wanna make sure he does his best," said Constantine with as muchsincerity as he could muster. "This could be his big break."

Billy looked suspicious. "I don't remember him mentioning you.Besides... I remember that one time you called him a bleedin' no talent wanker. Said the only thing he was worse at than metal was magic."

"Naw, mate. I never said that. You must be thinkin' of someone else."

Mulder reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of pills. "Heyguess what I found. Looks like I've got some stuff on me, man."

Billy's eyes widened in anticipatory lust. He licked his lips. Hiseyes darted from the tiny bottle in Mulder's hands to Mulder's face, then to Constantine's and back to the bottle.

"Well all I know is he's meetin' some blokes at midnight tomorrow at some field outside of London. They used to do all-night raves at the place every weekend. Bleedin' wankers droppin' E and dancin' to that soddin' techno and jungle an' all that crap. That's all I know man. I swear."

"You sure, mate?"

"Yeah."

Constantine looked to Mulder and jerked his head toward the door. Asthe two men turned to leave Billy called out. "Hey, what about the stuff?"

"Oh," said Mulder. "Almost forgot." He tossed the whole bottle toward the bed.

It bounced off the side and fell to the floor, followed by Billy whocrashed after it, hands scrabbling for the twist-off cap like frantic crabs. When Mulder and Constantine reached the front door they heard Billy cry out again.

"You bastards!!! This is aspirin!!!"

ooo

Mulder sipped from a bottle of lager and stared out a window in Constantine's apartment. He looked at his watch as Constantine emerged from the bathroom, one of his ancient books in hand."So," Mulder asked, "you really think this Donnie is going to try toraise some sort of demon tomorrow night?""Look's that way. I just wish I knew more about this Yagoth. I haven't found anything on 'im so far.""Well maybe my friends will come through on that score."

"Look there's not too much more we can do until tomorrow," saidConstantine. "I suggest you head back to Phoebe's and get a good night's sleep."

"I was going to ask if I could borrow your couch. The last thing I want is to get Phoebe involved in this. Besides, I don't think she'd be very welcoming after the way I bailed on her."

Before Constantine could reply, the phone rang. The Englishman grabbed it. "Constantine."

"Constantine!?!?" a startled voice asked. "John Constantine?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Is Mulder there?"

"Hold on," Constantine turned to Mulder. "Must be your mates."

The FBI Agent took the phone. "Mulder."

"Mulder this is Frohike," the voice said. "We've found some information that might be useful. But first I have to ask was that the John Constantine?"

"You mean you know him?" Mulder asked.

Frohike did not answer readily but said something to others in thebackground that Mulder could only assume were Langley and Byers. There was a sudden buzz of voices.

Langly's voice was next on the phone. "Mulder what the hell are youdoing hanging out with John Constantine?"

"Actually 'hell' is the operative word here."

"Mulder this magical stuff really isn't our field of expertise but even we've heard of John Constantine. He's like a living legend in occult circles. Do you have any idea who he is? Constantine is..."

Mulder cut him off. "An incredibly powerful and resourceful magus with a knack for cheating death even in the most impossible of circumstances," he said. "I know. He also smokes like a chimney but has great taste in beer."

"He also has a knack for getting the people around him killed," Langlysaid. "Including, rumor has it, several of his friends."

At that, Mulder fell silent. He looked over at the Englishman.Constantine stared back with wary eyes and smoked a cigarette.

"Mr. Constantine is helping me out on this case," he said. "Look Ineed to know what you've found out."

More excited background talk at the other end of the line. Then Byers' voice: "Okay, like Langly said this magical stuff isn't really our field of expertise but we found something that might be helpful. There is no reference in our database or in any we checked to a Yagoth.

"So we tried different variations in spelling and did find multiplereferences to a Zageroth."

Mulder listened intently for a few more minutes. He then thankedByers, asked him to convey his gratitude to the other two Lone Gunmen, and hung up.

"Well?" Constantine asked.

"Looks like Donnie may have had the name wrong or perhaps you misreadit," Mulder said pacing. "My friends did find references to a Zageroth, referred to in some ancient texts as 'He Whose Name is Legion..."

The cigarette fell from Constantine's mouth.

"and also referred to in other texts as the 'First of the Fallen' and..."

Constantine sank heavily into a nearby chair. It was then that Mulder noticed the severity of his reaction.

"Oh my Christ," the Englishman said running his fingers through hishair. "That stupid, stupid bastard. How could he? Does he even have a clue?"

"What is it?" Mulder asked.

"I wonder if he even knows who he's about to call up," Constantinecontinued. "This is bad. This is unbelievably bad."

"Constantine," Mulder said. "Is this ... who is the First of theFallen?"

Constantine looked at Mulder with dead eyes. "The First of the Fallenis the big bastard, mate. Our boy Donnie is about to call up the Devil himself."

End of Part 2

The man smoked a cigarette as he looked up that the stars that thedotted the dark sky above. The wind ruffled the folds of his black trenchcoat. He inhaled deeply as his gaze moved downward, taking in the countryside, the black trees at the far end of the field, andthen the ground at his feet.

Even though he now looked downward he was still seeing stars or morespecifically, a star. A large pentagram had been painted near his feet in white glow in the dark paint. Nearby, a crew of his men worked arranging high-powered lights and other electronic equipment.

The lights suddenly came on. He dropped his cigarette into the grassand shielded his eyes against the oppressive glare. Beyond the circle of lights stood a large tent. Music came from within.

The man looked at his watch and then walked over to one of the crew."Where is Jordan?" he asked. "It'll be time soon."

The other man pointed toward the tent. At that, the man in thetrenchcoat walked in that direction. He entered to find Donnie Jordansitting cross-legged on a blanket, smoking a joint. Slayer blared from a nearby boombox. Jordan smiled broadly at the older man's entrance.

The older man frowned and made a twisting gesture with his right hand.Donnie turned the sound down on the radio.

"It'll be midnight soon," the Cigarette Smoking Man said. "Have youmade the appropriate preparations?"

"That's the third time you've asked me that old man," Donnie replied."Relax. Everything's cool."

He then offered the joint.

"Not my brand," the older man said and left the tent. He hoped theyhadn't made a mistake in soliciting Jordan. Their files on him were not as complete as those on Constantine. While their data suggested he could perform the task the man was extremely immature. However, after Constantine declined their offer there were no other options.

He decided that once the deed was done and the deal cut, he wouldrecommend Jordan's termination. They wouldn't need him anymore at that point anyway.

He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs. He let the smoke flow from his open lips and looked at the sky again.

It was a beautiful night.

ooo

The motorway was black and quiet as Mulder and Constantine raced through the night in the former's rental car. Neither man had said much during the drive which was now nearing its end.

Mulder drove while Constantine shifted repeatedly in his seat. He litanother cigarette. This prompted Mulder to look over at him. The Briton's jaw was drawn tight. He stared out into a darkness that was punctuated only by the occasional headlights of passing cars and the unending white lines in the road before them.

"You okay?" Mulder asked. "You seem a bit rattled."

"Maybe I need to refresh your memory," Constantine said. "We're driving headlong into a situation where we might come face to face with the Lord of Hell himself. That sort of thing tends to rattle a bloke."

"I thought you said you'd met the First of the Fallen on previousoccasions."

"Sure but that doesn't mean I'm looking forward to a reunion. Thefirst time we met I tricked him into drinking Holy Water and then cut him up with a broken bottle."

The FBI agent smiled and glanced at Constantine. "So it's safe to sayyou didn't make a good first impression?"

"Yeah, laugh all you want."

Mulder's thoughts turned to Scully. He wondered what she was doing back in the States and what she would've made of John Constantine. His guess was that Scully, the eternal skeptic, would have pegged the Englishman as in need of serious psychiatric help.

He had to admit that, thus far, he'd seen no evidence to the contrary.But the Cancer Man was also involved. And in his case where there was smoke there was always fire.

"Y'know I can't figure you out, Mulder," Constantine interrupted histhoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't understand why you've got such an appetite for the bizarre. I mean you told me about your sister and all but the bottom line is you've chosen this quest of yours. These X Files... everything about what you do, it's all your bloody choice. Even this...what we might be heading into.

"We might not come back from this alive and you're driving into it with a grin and probably an erection to boot. You could just walk away, mate. You've got to see how simple that would be."

"If I were to do that...," Mulder began.

"You'd never find the truth right?" Constantine interrupted. "I hate to say this but I don't think you'll ever truly find what you're looking for. And if you do, you may not be able to handle it. Better to leave it while you still can."

"So why haven't you taken your own advice, oh great and wise mage?"Mulder asked.

"Because that's not an option for me anymore," Constantine explained."That's the difference between you and me Mulder. You go looking for the weirdness. Me... well, in my case the weirdness finds me."

"I'd be lying if I said I never thought about giving up," said Mulder.

"Don't think about it. Do it. And take Dana Scully with you."

Mulder looked at Constantine. "Where'd that come from?"

"Oh come on, mate," the Englishman replied. "You told me about her.It's clear that your feelings for her go beyond simple respect and concern for a partner. Why not stop pissing about and do what should come naturally? Hell, a good shagging'd probably do you both some good."

Mulder stared at the road before and was silent. Finally he said, "It's not that simple."

"Only because you choose to make it difficult." replied Constantine.

The two men fell silent for several minutes afterward. It was Mulderwho spoke next.

"You know I've seen and done things even you might not believe but I've got to tell you, if what we think might happen here really does happen..."

"You're wondering how we'll handle it," Constantine finished for him.

"Yeah."

"Damned if I know. The more I think it about it though the more I think we'll do okay."

"Why is that?" Mulder asked.

"'Cause there's no way in hell I'm going to let myself get killedwithout making sure you buy me a pint. After all this crap you've put me through it's the least you owe me."

Mulder grinned and offered his hand to Constantine's. "Deal."

Constantine shook Mulder's hand heartily. "Deal."

ooo

Crouched low behind a bank of trees, Mulder and Constantine watched asthings began to unfold in the field off the Motorway. From their vantage point they could see a trenchcoated man bathed in the glow of the powerful lights which encircled a large white pentagram.

Both clearly identified him as the Cancer Man. There were nearly 20 other men milling about nearby and several of these men carried automatic weapons. Two of the armed men flanked a hooded figure who was approaching the pentagram from a tent about 15 yards away.

When the hooded man reached the pentagram, he drew back the folds of his cloak.

"Donnie," whispered Constantine. "Looks like they're about to start the party."

"So what do you think we should do?" asked Mulder.

"Why don't you just shoot the bastard and then we can get out of here?They can't very well raise any demons without him?" asked the Englishman.

"I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. I'm not armed."

"What?!?! But you're an FBI Agent!"

"Who's on vacation and a few thousand miles outside of his jurisdiction, remember?"

Constantine shook his head. "Christ! What a balls up!"

"How about this," Mulder explained, "I'll create a distraction. Thatshould draw some of the guards away from the circle and give you the time to do... well, whatever it is you do under these circumstances. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like crap actually," replied Constantine, "but I guess it'll have to do under the circumstances."

"Fine. Now let me borrow your lighter."

Constantine who handed over his lighter. "Hell of a time to take upsmoking."

"Thanks," whispered Mulder who began moving away from the trees. "Andwatch your back."

ooo

Sticking carefully to the shadows, Mulder made his way to a row of cars that were parked several yards away from the ceremonial pentagram. He slowly got to his feet and looked over the roof of the closest vehicle.

All were empty and there were no guards in sight. Mulder dropped into a low crouch again and removed first his jacket and then his shirt. Then he began tearing the shirt into long, thin strips.

ooo

The Cancer Man watched as Donnie Jordan began the ritual. He opened the ceremony with a chant in a strange dialect he could not identify. He then spoke in English.

"I call upon you oh great powerful Lord of the underworld," Donnieshouted. "Come forth unto me your disciple and these seekers of your unholy truths. Come forth and bestow upon us your dark blessing."

The wind began to pick up. It suddenly felt as if the temperature hadrisen. The air currents that brushed his exposed skin felt distinctly warmer than they had only moments earlier.

He felt a nervous rumble in his stomach.

"We call upon you for you are the Lord of the things that slither andcrawl in the night. You are the Master of that which is unclean. It is before you and that all... uh.. bad blokes kneel."

At that the Cigarette Smoking Man had to stifle a laugh. Part of himcontinued to hope this dangerous gambit would work. Another part of him, recognizing that this was a dangerous gambit, hoped that it would not. Yet a third part wanted to laugh at the apparent silliness of this ceremony which Jordan seemed to have pilfered from a B-movie.

He suddenly realized he was sweating. It was getting warmer. Noquestion about it. He'd just wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his coat when the first explosion came.

It sounded almost like the muffled cough of a giant. He turned and looked toward the clearing where the convoy had parked. A reddish-orange cloud rose toward the air, its brightness defying the night. There was another explosion then. Followed by a third. Then a fourth.

"Aaayyyy," said Donny. 'Ow do you bastards expect me to pull this offwith all that noise going on?"

"Continue," the Cancer Man replied hurriedly. "He turned to a set ofguards. "Go. Now."

ooo

Mulder scrabbled behind a tree as the first wave of guards came running to investigate. His diversion had been a moderate success. Now he could only hope that Constantine would use whatever powers and abilities he had at his disposal to turn this situation all the way around.

He found himself wishing he could have brought Phoebe and Scotland Yard in on this after all. They could have used the backup. But he also realized that she never would have believed him.

After all, what could he have said? We need your help to arrest a therepresentatives of a global conspiracy who are planning to use a down on his luck heavy metal guitarist to raise the devil in an effort to protect themselves from an alien invasion?

Yeah, that probably would have gone over real well.

Something cold and metallic pressed against the back of his right ear."Don't move," a voice said abruptly.

ooo

The guard roughly shoved Mulder to the ground in front of the Cigarette Smoking Man. "I found him hiding in the trees sir," he said.

Mulder slowly got to his feet and raised his head to face the Cigarette Smoking Man. The older man's eyebrows went up in shock. "I don't believe it. Fox Mulder. Young man, you are no end of trouble."

Mulder stared at the older man balefully. "I know a snappy retort would be in order here but I can't think of anything."

"Oi, tosser, a voice from the darkness said then. Constantine walkedforward casually, his trenchcoat slung over his right shoulder, as if he were out for a late night stroll.

"Agent Mulder's a mate of mine," said the Englishman, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. "I suggest you let 'im go. Now."

At the sight of Constantine, Donnie stopped his chanting and glared at the newcomer. "Constantine? This has fuck all to do with you! On 'yer bike! This is my gig!"

The Cigarette Smoking Man regarded the Magus warily as a trio of guards slowly moved to flank Constantine.

"However crudely he may have put it, your countryman is correct Constantine," he said. "You had your chance at this and you refused. That makes it none of your affair."

"When you point guns at a mate it is," said Constantine replied. He had noticed how warm the temperature near the circle was. This was bad. Donnie may not have finished his ceremony but it was obvious that something was coming.

"Fine. You can both die together. The only difference it makes is in the number of holes my men will have to dig. Jordan, continue the ceremony."

"You're full of crap," said Mulder. "For whatever reason, you need mealive. You could have killed me time and time again. As for Constantine, if you could afford to kill him you'd have done it after he first refused your offer to conduct this ceremony."

"Under normal circumstances you'd be right Mulder. But as your recentexperiences should have illustrated, the stakes have changed. A very important deal will be cut here tonight and I can't risk you..."

The Cancer Man paused in mid-sentence and turned to look at Donnie, asthey all did.

For Donnie's chanting at taken on a new and more urgent timbre. They all realized with dawning horror that he wasn't really chanting anymore. He was screaming.

He'd collapsed to his knees and was struggling to tear the thick, darkrobe from his body. His face, already bathed in sweat, began to blacken and blister in spots.

Mulder watched as the amateur magus shot Constantine an agonized look, his eyes bulging horribly in their sockets. "Heeeeelllllllppppppp me!"

The lights that encircled the pentagram began to explode one by one like a string of oversized firecrackers. Then the paint of the pentagram itself burst into flame.

As his screaming reached fever pitch, Donnie Jordan himself erupted into flame. The heat was so intense that Mulder suddenly felt as if his own eyebrows had been singed.

"Strewth," Constantine exclaimed.

The guards eyed each other uncertainly while the Cancer Man moved forward for a closer look. Despite the heat, he felt strangely drawn to the flames.

Mulder and Constantine exchanged desperate, knowing glances. It was then that Donnie Jordan's body began to move. It had been burned to little more than blackened bone but it moved. As it did so, muscle and sinew reformed and grew at an incredible rate.

The skeleton was standing up even as flesh grew on it and the flames that engulfed it faded. But by the time it stood fully erect it was not Donnie Jordan who gazed at the men assembled before it.A tall man with long dark hair stood where Jordan had died barely seconds earlier. He was dressed in a midnight black Victorian era suit. The night winds whipped his dark locks about his face.

Eyes black as the abyss looked over the faces of the men before him. When they met Constantine's, the Briton felt his blood grow cold as it had the same time he'd first encountered this monster.

The First of the Fallen had arrived.

"Jesus," the Cancer Man whispered in a low, terrified voice.

"Not quite," The First of the Fallen replied, with a voice like winterwinds.

Mulder looked again at Constantine. "Is that..." The Englishmansilenced him with a quick nod.

The Cancer Man quickly tried to regain his composure. "Uhhh... sir, Irepresent a group of men..."

"Silence maggot," the First of the Fallen interrupted. "I know who you are and who you represent. I also know that when your time comes you and your colleagues will answer for what you have done.

"You will will answer to me," added the First as his lips curled into a smile. "You may take small comfort in knowing that today is not that day. Now leave."

The Cancer Man was paralyzed.

"Now!" roared the First, his voice seeming to well up out of the ground itself. The Cancer Man was galvanized into movement. He turned and ran. His guards dropped their weapons and ran after him.

Within seconds Mulder and Constantine were alone with the Lord of Hell in a field that stank of brimstone and burnt human flesh. Mulder stared at the First. Constantine shoved him and looked to the First.

"Well, if you don't mind we'll be moving on too, mate," Constantine said. "Gettin' late and all."

"Not so fast, Magus," the First said. "You've nothing to fear from me. As I told that other chain-smoking imbecile, today is not your day.

"I do, however, have a keen interest in your companion."

"Me?" asked Mulder. "What could you possibly want with me?"

"The question," the First said, "is what do you want with me? You see I find you fascinating. You're a seeker of hidden truths, a man with a mission, a crusader. Such men are a rarity in this era of despair and cynicism. Of course much of that is my own fault."

"Go to back to hell," Mulder said and turned to leave with Constantine.

"Ahhhh. He turns his back on me so readily. Even though I hold theanswers to the questions he so desperately asks. Including those about... Samantha."

Mulder paused and turned around. What he saw then shocked him to the core of his being. Bill Mulder, his father, stood where the First had been.

"That's right, Fox. I can tell you everything you need to know. I can tell you what really happened to Samantha and even take you to her."

Mulder shook his head. He knew what he was seeing couldn't be real, that his father was dead. But the comforting voice that spoke to him was his father's.

"We can be a family again, Fox."

"Dad?" Mulder asked uncertainly.

Constantine looked at Mulder, then at the First who he saw as he really was. "He's fucking with your head Mulder. That's what he does."

"But... it's my dad."

"That's bollocks," Constantine snapped. He grabbed Mulder by theshoulders. "It's a trick Mulder. He'll promise you your heart's desire to get what he wants. Do not listen to him."

"But aren't the answers to all your questions your heart's desire, Mulder? a female voice asked.

Mulder turned again. Scully now stood where his father had momentsearlier. She was dressed in a sleeveless white gown, the fabric of which was so thin it was nearly transparent. Mulder was transfixed.

"If you had those answers your quest would finally be over Mulder," Scully said. "And then, we'd at last have time for each other."

"Scully... What do you mean?"

"Don't deny it, Mulder," she replied with a smile. "I know how you feel about me. And you must know I feel the same way towards you. But your quest for the truth has prevented us from ever exploring our true feelings. Once those questions are answered there will be nothing else to stand in our way. Don't you see that?

"We can finally be together in the way that we were always meant to be." She raised her hands. "Come to me Mulder."

"Mulder," Constantine shouted. "The truth you're looking for is outthere, mate. You won't find it here, not from the mouth of the Prince of Lies."

Mulder pulled away from Constantine and walked toward Scully. Her eyes brightened and she smiled sensuously, arms open to receive him.

He stopped a few feet away and raised his finger to point at her. "Like I said. Go back to hell. My soul is not for sale," he explained, "even for the truth."

Scully's grin faded and she was engulfed in flames. The flamesdiminished in intensity and the First of the Fallen stood revealed anew.

"Very well then, Agent Mulder," he said. "But we will meet again."

"Right then. Give us light will you." Constantine said stepping forward. He bent to stuck his cigarette into the flames. "Now piss off."

The First eyed Constantine heavily. "Be seeing you, Constantine."

It was a pleasantry he'd heard uttered time and time again. But coming from the First of the Fallen it carried a dark and unspoken meaning, carried the weight of a curse.

"I know," was all he could think to say.

The flames dissipated and the First was gone.

Mulder exhaled and began breathing heavily. He looked at Constantinewordlessly for several seconds. Finally, he said, "You saved my soul, man."

Constantine grinned and took a drag on his cigarette.

"No I didn't. You did it yourself. I was just an extra hand to pull you back from the ledge in case you did decide to jump."

Mulder extended his right hand. Constantine took it and the two shookhands.

"So now what do we do?" asked the FBI Agent.

Constantine grinned a little wider. Well... there is that pint you owe me."

Mulder grinned back. "You're on."

And the two men began the trek back to Mulder's rental car, leaving the empty field which smelled of hellfire and cigarettes.

The End?

Author's Closing notes

When I wrote this story it was with the assumption that most readers might be more familiar with X Files rather than John Constantine: Hellblazer. However, if this story has whetted your appetite for more of Mr. Constantine's exploits, I strongly encourage you tostart picking up the ongoing series. You may first want to pick up on the trade paperbacks collecting Constantine's earlier adventures. There are four still available from Vertigo/DC Comics that I know of: Original Sins, Dangerous Habits, Tainted Love, and Fear and Loathing. This is a good way to bone up Hellblazer mythology before jumping headlong into the current issues.

Where was Scully? One thing some who've read this story have asked is why I didn't write a bigger role for Scully. After all, she is the X Files' other main character and is seemingly as inseperable from Mulder as Robin from Batman, Watson from SherlockHolmes, etc. There are three reasons : First, I wanted the story to be sent on Constantine's home turf of England. Since the FBI's jurisdiction doesn't extend beyond the borders of the U.S., I had to come up with a convincing reason for why Mulder would be in London. Having Mulder take a London vacation to spend time with old flame Phoebe Green(who appeared in the X Files episode "Fire" way back in Season One) provided a natural and fun way to do this. Second, It also created a way for me to bring Mulder and Constantine together. Problem is there wouldn't have been a way for Scully to tag alongwithout that seeming somehow contrived.

Secondly, I thought it would be interesting to focus on Mulder andConstantine only because both are incredibly fascinating characters that I see as two sides of the same coin. I really tried to explore this in my characterizations of the two men. Mulder has essentiallychosen his quest for the truth, one that leads him into all manner ofparanormal experiences. By contrast, John Constantine would probably prefer to lead something of a more normal life at this point. However, after his years of occult activity that is no longer an option. To paraphrase his own words in this story, the weirdness nowfinds him whether he likes it or not. Exploring those dynamics by focusing the story on the interplay between these two characters I think makes for a much stronger story. If Scully had been thrown into the mix I think she would have detracted from that.

Interestingly enough when I initially wrote the story I'd not included the scene where the First of the Fallen appears to Mulder as Scully. However, since Scully was not present with Constantine and Mulder and because recent episodes of X Files and Mulder continueto hint at further deeping of Mulder and Scully's relationship it occurred to me that this was a good way for the First to "tempt" Agent Mulder.

Bottom line: as much as I love Dana Scully, I think in this case three definitely would have been a crowd. However, I'm already cooking up ideas for another crossover that would reunite Mulder and Constantine while also providing a BIG role for Scully. Tha, tha,that's all folks. Hope you enjoyed and, once again, please feel free to e-mail your comments to the address listed at the top of the story.