John awoke trembling, his forehead and hair dripping with perspiration. Realizing he was back in his familiar surroundings, he lazily rolled into a sitting position on his bed, joints crackling in protest. Reaching across his bed to the nightstand, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes he had been craving for even through his dream. He went to pull one out, when suddenly a chill ran through his body. He remembered the promise he had made to himself on the night Angela and he had parted ways. Forcing the smoke back into the pack, he could feel Lucifer's smile disappear from his face, knowing he was watching his every move from the depths of Hell.

Not this time, Lu. Nice try, he thought triumphantly.

Thinking of that particular event brought him back to that night's dream.

Angela.

The dream was now haunting his thoughts. The intensity of Chaz's message was unnerving, even after awakening. He was debating whether it was just a nightmare, or if Chaz had really contacted him through a vision. He found its reality unlikely, since all the years he's been in this line of business he'd never had a vision sent to him with a message. This happening really struck a chord with, however.

Who would try to hurt Angela, anyway? Balthazaar's dead. Lucifer surely has more important things to do. It doesn't add up, he assured himself.

Constantine jumped as a loud crashing noise came from outside the door of his livingspace. A shelf collapsed from its mount as the floor shook due to the impact. John saw the door tremble against weight as the noise was happening.

John reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a vial of holy water. He then stuck his arm underneath his bed to retrieve his shotgun, forged from the body of a golden crucifix. He climbed off of his bed, and walked over to the main door, standing at least four feet away from the threshold in case the believed-to-be intruder decided to make a move.

He stood there, listening and waiting for any sounds of movement. Maybe he was just overreacting and all the years of experience he'd accumulated were finally getting the best of him.

Another jolt of force crashed into the door. John pointed his weapon at the doorway, the vial still clutched in his last two fingers. A third force came crashing, and then a fourth, until they came in rapid succession. He aimed a little higher than the middle of the door, where a human head would be sitting on a pair of shoulders, assuming the intruder had a human form.

The hinges of the door snapped, and it came crashing to the floor, dust flying to the air on impact. In the threshold, a tall, bulky figure stood. Clad in a white suit, with long, black hair, the man was unknown to the exorcist.

They stared at each other, eye to eye, not moving a muscle. Neither was speaking, seemingly waiting for the other to say the first word.

It was Constantine who tired of the situation first.

"Well, since you aren't going to be polite and introduce yourself, I'll have to make the first move. Who the hell are you and why'd you just break into my home?" John questioned.

The man simply shrugged his shoulders slightly. "My name isn't important. And you wouldn't have let me in the door if I had asked politely."

John walked forward and pushed the barrel of his gun into the forehead of the intruder. "Maybe you didn't get the memo. If you don't give me one good reason as to why you're ruining my morning, I'll send your sorry ass to Hell by blowing you into little, melted chunks," John calmly threatened.

The man cackled with a menacing laughter. "Now, now, if you do that, you'll never know where to find Angela."

Angela, John pondered nervously. Apparently there is something to this dream of mine.

"Where is she? Tell me now!" demanded John, an intensity burning behind his eyes.

"I can't. I'm not sure how I can explain it without confusing you… but I can take you there," informed the man.

"Oh, no way. I smell a set-up, or a trap of some kind. You're going to tell me exactly what the hell's going on and what Angela has to do with it," enforced John.

"We really don't have time to go through this right now. Unless you don't care about whether Angela dies or not, I suggest we go right now," the man said with an empty calmness.

Constantine knew it was against his better judgment to go with the man, but if he was telling the truth, John needed to act quickly.

"Turn around," he demanded.

The man gave him a confused, awkward look. "What?"

"Shut up and turn around!" he demanded once again.

The intruder decided to play nice, and spun to face the way out. John stuck the barrel to the back of the man's head.

"I'm riding in the back. If you try anything at all, I swear I'll blast your face through the front glass," John insured.