Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. Please R enjoy.

Prompt: Down

Zed had thought the worst was over when the Pazuzu vacated John; he'd seemed fine for a few hours afterwards, said goodbye to Anne-Marie, had something to eat. He must've known it was coming, because he tries to get her out of the millhouse when he starts sweating.

"You should go out," he tells her. "Nice night, go see a movie or something."

She shakes her head. "No. I need to make sure you're okay." She hasn't told him yet about her father and Resurrection Crusade dropping in for a visit.

"Aw, that's sweet, love. I didn't know you cared that much." He smirks at her, but his heart is only half in it and she can tell.

"I just...it was terrifying. I don't want to go out. I want to stay here, and just..."

"You need to make sure Pazuzu's not coming back?" John takes a step closer to her, hands in pockets.

She crosses her arms. She's not in the mood for a feelings talk, and can tell he's not, either. "Basically."

He sighs. "If you must. I'm going to be in the holding cell."

"What? Why?"

"Heroin's not my first rodeo with drugs, Zed. I'm going to be coming down soon and it's not going to be pretty."

"But—I thought that the Pazuzu-"

"Thought it leaving would heal me? No, one last 'screw you' to John Constantine," he chuckles.

"What can I do?"

"Don't come down there," he tells her, turning around. "I'm going to get a few bottles of water from the fridge and head that way."

"Are you sure?"

He looks back at her. "I'm sure. I'll be fine in a day or two." He tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

And, of course, she can't just stay away. She thinks about drawing a bath, but doesn't want to waste the water because she knows she won't relax. She idly flips through a magazine, listens to about seventeen seconds of a song on her her phone, pulls out her sketchbook and puts it back down. She cooks a meal—he might be hungry when he comes out of it.

Chas comes back after dropping Anne-Marie off at the airport. She tells him John's downstairs, and that she is under instructions not to go down there.

"You're not going to listen, are you?" Chas asks her knowingly.

She shakes her head. "No. I was trying to wait a few hours so that I could pretend I wanted to honor his wishes."

Chas leans back against the counter, head hung. "You know it's not going to be good."
"I know. You're not goinng to try to stop me?"

He shakes his head. "Was thinking about going down there myself, but he'd just shoo me away. Might have a little more luck from you. Wait a few more hours; he'll be too out of it to protest."

She takes his advice and waits, mostly staring into space, until well after midnight. Descending the stairs, her stomach begins to tighten. She steps down as quietly as possibly, slipping off her boots before she gets to the bottom of the stairwell. Zed tiptoes to the door and peers inside.

John's lying on the steel-framed bed on his side, his back to the door. He's shivering, arms crossed and gripping his biceps, muttering something.

Zed opens the door and closes it behind her softly. He shifts, so she knows that he's awake.

"Go away," he tells her, voice low and sluggish.

"Make me," Zed replies, unaffected.

She sets a knee on the bed, lowering herself onto her side, before moving close to him, his back to her chest. She drapes her arm around him, holding her palm over the back of his hand.

A moment later, he shifts a little, moving his hand over hers. He runs his fingers between hers and tightens them. Zed squeezes his fingers, then settles in for the long night ahead.