Rescue

Written by Anakin McFly

Ludlow doesn't know what hit him. He's suddenly pinned on the ground gasping for breath with his face pressed against the rough concrete, unable to speak, hand scrabbling futilely for his gun. The hand around his neck feels inhumanely strong against his every struggle, inhumanely cold and still; more machine than man, more alien than human, and yet its grasp is intimately, nauseatingly familiar, and he knows that if he were to break free and turn, he would see that same face he's known and hated for so long grinning down at him.

Soon, he's aware that the pressure is increasing - slowly, ever so deliciously slowly, as his next breaths get harder and then impossible and his vision starts blurring before him. He still can't move, his years of training and experience somehow rendered useless against this force as he hears his own rabid laughter out the creature's mouth-

There's a bang. The hand jerks on his neck. Another bang, and then he's free, rolling over with a desperate gasp for air to see Donaka falling back against the wall with angry surprise on his face and two shotgun wounds in his chest

Ludlow turns.

John Constantine lowers his holy shotgun. "I've told you," he says. "If you want to get to hell, you need a cat."

Ludlow has never been so happy to see someone.

"What the f*** took you so long?" he yells.

Constantine shrugs. "I needed a smoke." He walks casually through the doorway, giving Donaka's body a kick to check that he's dead.

Ludlow snorts. "Yeah, right."

Constantine sits down next to him. Wordlessly, he hands over a cigarette. Ludlow graciously accepts.

Lighters flick. They sit there, smoking, gazing at Donaka's body, his eyes still open and staring at them.

"Reeves gets some funny ideas, sometimes," Ludlow remarks.

Constantine smirks. "Try telling him that."

They fall into a comfortable silence, smoke rising into the air with the satisfaction of another day's work, another devil defeated, a world made just that much safer for all of them.

"Let's bury him in Reeves' front yard," Constantine suggests.

*

Not-Tim wakes to the sound of digging in the middle of the night. He blinks blearily into the darkness, groans, and buries his head under his pillow.

He doesn't want to know what his weird stalker fans might be up to now. He can deal with it in the morning.

#