Author's Note:

This fanfiction is based off of the TV show 'Constantine'. While I'm not completely familiar with the show, I have watched all of the previous episodes that have aired so far. And I'm quiet taken with the show. Forgive me if anything is out of character, but keep in mind that this is a work of fanfiction, so it's not going to be completely as the show is. This is just something that my mind has been concocting... This may or may not turn into a chapter fic. It may just be one long story. But I'll start it out with 'Chapter One' none the less.

This fiction will contain adult material. Read at your own risk.

Chapter One

The scratch of pencil over paper echoed in the cluttered room. The feminine hand moved furiously, gray smudged on the side of her hand from the endless hours of sketching. The hazardously strewn papers were testimony to that. They cluttered the floor, overflowing the two small trash cans in the room.

She couldn't stop. Not yet.

She'd seen all of these images before, so she knew them by memory alone, but she paid attention to keen detail, even the deep, dark set of their eyes that terrified her. Soulless eyes. But they were long gone. Dead. Cast into the pits of hell by none other than John Constantine himself.

John Constantine.

A man hated by Demons—and probably Angels, too—alike.

It was his fault that she'd been drawn into his psychotic little world. That wasn't exactly the truth, but would she admit that? No, Zed thought, she wouldn't. He was still to blame, she thought with a snort.

Her wrist ached from the constant movement, but she had to get the images out of her mind, the sudden flare up of memories that had sent her into a night filled with nightmares. But none of these sketched images meant anything; they were long gone Demons. So she didn't understand it.

She hunched over the desk, holding the coal pencil tip against the paper as she darkened one side of the image, made a curve. The image began to take place, familiar as she smudged it with the tip of one fingertip and then she froze. John Constantine stared up at her from the paper, so familiar.

She hadn't seen him in two years.

Her hand was shaking because she wasn't done. The need to continue was pushing at her, because the images were still fresh in her mind, but she took the moment to stare at the fine details. She hadn't expected the image that her hand was making on the paper to be him.

They'd fought a long battle. He'd saved her countless times and she'd returned the favor just as many. Though, half the time it was his own fault he'd gotten himself into any of the trouble. The world had fallen into dark times and Constantine had been there to set it right...he'd kept his promise, he'd told her, and set rights to that little girl he'd damned to hell.

His soul wasn't even damned to hell anymore, either.

If that wasn't enough to make any man, happy, then she didn't know what was.

But she was terrified. The last time she'd found herself forming these random, horrifying images on paper, her world had been turned upside down and thrust into the paranormal.

Just as quickly as she'd finished Constantine's image, she thrust it aside and started on another. It didn't take her long to realize that she was drawing him again. The jaw was familiar, but filled with stubble. Recent or past? She honestly didn't care. She needed it out of her system. She quickly formed just the side of his body, his hands stuffed into the long overcoat he'd always worn before she swept her hand over the desk and sent the paper to the floor.

The next one was the same, but this time without the overcoat. She could see it in her minds eye that his shirt was pristine white and he had that same annoying curve to his lips. Two minutes later she was on another, but this time his shirt was unbuttoned. She frowned and colored in the shadows furiously and then that picture followed the rest over the side of the table.

The next one he was top naked. Her eyes narrowed as she sketched the muscles lining his forearms and down to his tapered waist. She would have liked to think that he was a fat slob, but Zed knew better. She didn't recall ever seeing him without his shirt on, but her visions, her dreams were never wrong. If the muscled abs she was tracing into place furiously were there, then they were there.

She wiped a hand across her forehead, smearing a dark smudge there before she went to work on another. And another. These were just like the first time. Constantine. One after the other.

"Ah...fuck." Zed whispered, her hand skidding to a halt over the rough sketch. He was shirtless again and there was a small dusting of hair on his chest that v'eed down his narrow waist. He still wore his pants but this time his belt was loose, the buckle hanging to one side. His pants were unbuttoned and hanging open. She couldn't see inside, because she had shadowed the interior...

What. The. Hell.

It took her a moment to realize that she'd started another sketch on the paper beside that one and the image was nearly the same, but there was a pair of feminine hands coming from behind his body. One hand was flat against his abdomen while the other had zeroed down, the tips of bare nails barely inside his waistband. She hadn't drawn the image any further, just the a shoulder below his, the long line of an arm coming from behind.

Her mind was buzzing and she gave in to the need and cleared the desk. The next image that started to form was not Constantine. It was almost plain. She recognized the take of muscles, the long arms that tapered down into hands. She would have called them human if not for the way his fingers thickened, his nails almost claw like.

A Demon, then.

She couldn't see the face clearly, so her fingers just shadowed in the facial features, though around the head she noticed the curve of large horns. She felt a vague sense of Deja' vu. Because this wasn't a Demon she recognized. The Deja' vu came from a sense that all the other times she'd drawn something she hadn't seen...was because that 'something' was coming.

No. Oh, God, no. Not again.

She wanted to stop, but knew she couldn't. Her hand wouldn't stop this time. And this was the last one. Her hand worked lower along the image, her eyes staring hard, tracing the line of almost human hips. Everything about the image was human, except for the devilish looking claws of his hands, and of course those horns. And his size. He looked massive. And by the time she was done, her hands clamped to her mouth in horror when she realized what she'd drawn.

She wasn't scared of it, necessarily. What terrified her was that she'd drawn a very erect erection. It rose up from between his thighs, curved slightly and nearly reaching the indention of his belly button. She stared in horror because God knew she had never drawn anything so horrendous before. She wasn't into that kind of shit.

Zed nearly whined out loud, she couldn't take her eyes away from the Demon with a dick. How funny did that sound? She had never drawn anything like that before? And what did a Demon with a dick have to do with this? This sudden return of deja' vu?

She wanted to forget all about this, but she'd been doing this for the past three days. She picked the paper up and gripped it in both hands. The sound of paper tearing echoed when she tore it down the middle. She folded the bottom half of the paper containing the groin area and stuffed it in her back pocket. It wouldn't do to have anyone—a certain someone—see that. In fact, she didn't want anyone to see that.

The last time she'd drawn a man naked—nearly naked, that is, he'd had on a pair of tight briefs—and he'd used her to achieve his own means. Look where that had nearly landed her? She'd been brained washed, nearly lost her virginity and nearly ended up impregnated with the New Messiah. So Constantine had saved her from a shit load. The virginity part she could have done without, though she much preferred keeping it rather than having lost it to a Demon who wanted nothing more than to rule the world.

So kind of a win-win situation there. She'd kept her virginity, stopped the New Messiah from even being made and Constantine had sent another Demon back to hell.

She finally noticed the room around her and the papers lining the floors and pinned to the walls. She winced. She didn't like this...not at all. With a sigh, she set about to pick up the sketches and stacking them neatly and then yanking the others off the walls. The ones in the trash bins she left where they were.

She stacked them neatly into three piles, refraining from looking at the roughly sketched images of the Demons she remembered going up against. But the memory was still there and it sent a chill down her spine. She quickly began stashing the papers in the large tote she'd swung around her neck and then the pictures of Constantine in the back part of the tote against her thigh.

She wanted to ignore it. God knew she did. She was pissed and frustrated. All she'd wanted was a normal life.

For whatever reason, John Constantine had something to do with this.

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