John Constantine lay stretched out on the bed. He looked better than he had almost three months ago when he was dying. His once gaunt frame had filled out a little and the dark circles under his eyes were almost gone. His skin was still as pale as always but what did one expect from a man who sleeps all day?

Chas Chandler smiled grimly as he watched his former mentor sleep, feeling slightly stalker-like but knowing he had to wait. He watched Constantine roll over in bed, watching the dream that was being sent to him.

Suddenly he sat up, gasping for air, his eyes wide. In his left hand he suddenly had a very wicked looking knife that was pointed directly at Chas.

"Woah okay, John put the knife down—" Chas said slowly backing away holding his hands up.

"Who—" Constantine began, "Chas?"

"Yes it's me!" Chas yelped as Constantine brought the knife up.

Constantine studied the thing in front of him. It wore white cloths, artfully slashed to allow the massive snowy white wings that spanned from it's back. It looked like Chas, except it seemed to glow in the near pitch black.

"Chas?" Constantine asked again.

"Yes!" Chas cried furiously.

"How the hell are you here?" Constantine demanded.

"When Gabriel was cast out of heaven he needed to be replaced. Well apparently He thought I was the best for the job," Chas explained.

"Gabriel was a half-breed," Constantine said, "how can you cross into this Plane?"

"All Archangel's can," Chas said, "we can only be seen by humans when we have a mission from Him."

"And you do?" Constantine asked grimly.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Chas said looking pointedly at the knife. Constantine sighed and threw it onto the bed where it landed without a sound. Chas folded his wings and sighed.

"Well? Are you going to tell me this 'mission from God'? Or is it some big secret?" Constantine asked throwing a shirt on over his pants.

"Gabriel didn't turn against Him willingly. Humans aren't the only ones demons can whisper to. Gabriel went insane. He wants revenge on Satan for what he did. Since Satan wants you, He sent me to make sure you don't mess up badly enough for Him not to let you into Heaven."

"So you're my Guardian Angel?" Constantine asked with a smirk.

"You could put it that way," Chas said, "now we have to go."

"We? Go where? It's 6 am, all the normal people are asleep," Constantine said.

"Who said anything about visiting a normal person?" Chas asked, "you need to get to Angela now."

"I don't take orders from 'Him'," Constantine said tightly. Chas bit back a yell of frustration.

"Listen to me. This isn't about Him anymore. Something much worse is coming and you need to get to Angela before anyone knows I'm here."

"Alright, alright, but—" Constantine fell silent as someone banged on his door. Puzzled he opened it to see Angela standing outside shifting her weight from one foot to another and biting her lip nervously.

"Constantine—John," Angela breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the familiar brown eyes.

"Angela?" Constantine was surprised, to say the least, at seeing her in front of his door. She was wearing a black suit that screamed 'do not mess with me'. Her hair was pulled back severely showing how pale her skin was. She was thinner and there were dark smudges under her eyes.

Constantine opened the door. Angela ducked inside muttering her thanks. She stopped a few feet inside and leaned against a chair, taking a shuddering breath that made her entire frame shake.

"What's wrong?" Constantine asked, suddenly feeling worried. In their brief phone conversations her voice had sounded the same, but then again he had been calling from old payphones.

"I don't know," Angela said, her back still towards him, "I can't sleep, I can't eat—every time I close my eyes I see—" she trailed off, her eyes misting over before they rolled up and she crumpled to the floor.

Or she would have if Constantine hadn't caught her.

He picked the psychic up and carried her to his bed, pushing the knife away. He lay the back of his hand against her forehead and drew back almost immediately. She was burning up and shaking. Cold sweat was beading on her forehead and she groaned softly.

"What's wrong with her?" Constantine asked, "I've never seen anything like this before, even in people I've performed exorcisms on."

"You've never seen someone almost bear Mammon," Chas pointed out, "or un-repress a powerful gift, or—"

"I get it," Constantine said, "what do we do?"

"She has to wake up before we can do anything," Chas said. He looked at the door suddenly. Constantine turned to face it too. Standing with his back to them was an Angel.

He looked to be a man in his mid twenties. Dark hair fell over eyes that glowed red in the non-existent light. Tan skin contrasted with the dark reddish gold wings that stretched from his back. He wore all white, slashed in the fashion of Chas's clothing. Chas nodded to him and he returned the greeting.

"Constantine this is the Archangel Michael," Chas said.

"Hello Mr. Constantine," Michael said extending a hand, "I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time."