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writtenfangirl · 2 years

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Angel of Love

A/N: I’m back! Sort of. Life’s been kind of messy lately so I haven’t really had a chance to write let alone get to my requests. I’ve been toying with this idea for a while now and finally got around to finishing this fic so I hope it’s good. It’s my first DC fanfic so I hope it does the characters justice. This is as much a Sandman fanfic as it is a John Constantine fanfic. Maybe a part two if anyone’s up for it. Hope y’all enjoy

“I think, it’s human nature to be corruptible. I mean, you and I both know that God is real. And yet it always bothered me that He made it so easy for humans to be tempted. Corrupted.” The words that exited Y/N’s lips blew gently into the world, following the gust of wind that had been ruffling her hair since she sat down on the lip of the rooftop. “Humans were meant to be his greatest creation but put humans next to Kryptonians and they’re mush. Not to mention the fact that evil, human beings like the Joker exist. These were meant to be God’s greatest creation?”

“That’s a very bleak way of seeing things,” John Constantine’s accented voice was as deep as a thunderclap as he spoke beside her. She’d been watching his dangling feet sway into the open air since he first sat down next to her and with the hours they’d spent sitting on the edge of the rooftop, Y/N had slowly begun to memorize the scruffs on his well worn shoes.

“I never took you for an optimist.”

John shrugged. “Humanity is a blight in the universe but we do have our moments.”

“Yeah. Moments. Fleeting ones.”

“For an angel, you sure like to be the devil’s advocate,” John said with a snort.

“Archangel,” Y/N corrected. “And Lucifer has always been my favorite sibling. We were thick as thieves when he was still around the Silver City.”

“Really?”

“He’s the archangel of desire. I’m the archangel of love. Those two usually go hand in hand.”

“So you doubt your father’s creation? I didn’t think angels were capable of doubting their Father.”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to snort. “Us angels practically invented doubt in God. I haven’t seen my father in several millennias and that’s not likely to change anytime soon. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love him dearly. I may doubt His creations but I do not doubt Him.”

Y/N turned to John and found the human with a contemplative look in his face.

“Besides,” Y/N continued with a soft smile, “without my Father’s creation, I wouldn’t be able to count you as one of my friends.”

At that, John’s lips lilted. Y/N would’t count it as a smile, not really. John Constantine didn’t really smile. He smirked, he grinned, he frowned but he never smiled. Not in the way other humans smiled, unguarded and without constraint. His smile, if it could be called that, was less a smile and more sardonic quirk of his lips.

“You and I both know I want us to be more than just friends,” John said ruefully.

“And you know I don’t dally with humans,” Y/N countered. “Not in that way.”

“I’ve had dalliances with demons, love. If you think I’m fragile, I can assure you I’m not.”

Y/N rolled her E/C angelic eyes. She really was beautiful and not just in a subjective way like most humans were to John. Y/N’s beauty was an absolute truth. The sun was a ball of gas that provided light, the sky was blue, humans breathed oxygen and Y/N was beautiful.

Well, in truth, all angels were beautiful but none could quite compare to Y/N’s beauty. It was as if she’d taken the supernatural beauty that angels possessed and multiplied it tenfold. There was a loveliness to her that not even Lucifer, the second most powerful being in the Universe and supposedly the most beautiful of all the angels, could recreate let alone possess.

The wind whipped against her H/C hair, carrying with it her sweet, heady scent that had John taking deeper breaths than usual. Her smile, warm and kind and lovely, sent jolts of electricity running up his spine, spreading all throughout his body. Her beautiful wings, colored like burnished gold, seemed to glow with an impossible light, bathing John in a warmth that should have been impossible in the middle of winter in London. She was love personified, the purest kind of love, the kind of love people could only dream of, let alone hope for.

“It’s not that I think you’re fragile, John. I already know you’re not. But as the angel of love, I am meant to give it away, not take it for myself. If you’re worried you’re somehow going to die alone, I am telling you now that you’re not. You’ve had a very hard life, John. A life that other beings, human or otherwise, wouldn’t have been able to survive. You can be rest assured that you are going to find your soulmate, I’ll make sure of it myself. I’ll even make sure it’s easy for you. That you’ll suddenly know and they’ll suddenly know too. I won’t leave you out in the dark by yourself.”

“But I don’t want them, love, I want you. Bollocks, Y/N, I can’t help it! I have loved you ever since I met you. I know you think that the way I feel isn’t real, that I feel the way that I feel because of who you are and maybe you’re right. Who am I to tell the angel of love what love is? But I know my love. I know how I feel and I have never felt this way about anyone and I doubt I will again.”

Y/N didn’t turn to look at him. The wind that had once been gentle grew restless as Y/N fluttered her golden wings.

“John, perhaps it’s time to wake up,” Y/N said, her voice kind.

Wake up? What did she mean?

Her beautiful face began to turn sad, her angelic E/C, shifting into a molten gold as shiny as her wings.

“John, I have indulged you far too long, my friend. It’s time to wake up.”

“What?” Panic began to rise within John, lodging itself into his sternum. His heart beat wildly, his body beginning to thrum with a nervous energy and John couldn’t understand why that was. What was Y/N talking about? This wasn’t a dream. This couldn’t be a dream. It felt too real.

He grasped her hand, warm and solid and real beneath his own.

She pulled away gently, her other hand grazing the skin on his face. “John, this isn’t real and this has to stop. I made a promise to you, remember? I intend to keep my promise.”

Memories began to flood through John’s mind, images he wished he could throw away into the fiery chasms of hell.

“John, I can’t keep meeting you like this. I must leave you.”

“No, Y/N, you can’t. Don’t leave, please.”

Her beatific smile was so glorious it hurt John to see it. “John, I swear to you, you will find love. The kind that most people couldn’t even fathom and the person you love—“

“I don’t care about them! I only care about you!”

Her once angelic features shifted into that of a thunderous expression. Her once kind E/C eyes turning into a lurid red, her face twisting into a sneer. “This will be the last time I see you, John Constantine. Seek me out again and it will be the last time you breathe.” Her voice was as deep as a clap of thunder, her fury making the hair on John’s skin stand on end.

This was the love that had people running for the hills, the kind that usually ended in bloodshed and murder. John had nearly forgotten who Y/N was, what she was. She was an archangel, God’ first herald, his right hand woman. She was the kindest of archangels but she was an archangel nonetheless. It was she who doomed humanity in a flood, she who brought down locusts and hail at God’s command. John never understood why it was Y/N who brought forth some of humanity’s greatest blights when archangels like Michael and Raphael existed but looking at her face now, he understood. After all, God did all of those things for the so called love He felt for humans. And who was Y/N if not God’s love personified?

With a blinding light that had John shielding his eyes, Y/N was gone, taking his heart with her.

“You remember now, don’t you?” Y/N, the one from his dream, said kindly. “I’m not really here, John. I did this as a favor to Dream but that’s it. This is truly the last time you will see me again.”

“No.” John said firmly. “I am not letting you leave again.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your choice.”

And with a shuddering gasp, John awoke.

He wasn’t sure what time it was but the slit of light that filtered through his curtains and into his dark room was blinding as his eyes struggled to adjust. He was still wearing his clothes from the previous day, his brown trench coat rumpled, his slacks and dress shirt covered in creases. He could only assumed what he looked like after he woke up, his hair as rumpled as his trench coat, his face covered in creases from his pillows but he didn’t care about any of that.

Instead his eyes were focused on the figure sitting on the chair in the corner of his room. Even in the darkness, the man’s eyes seemed to twinkle, as though he had all of the billions of stars in the universe contained in his eyes. His dark black hair stuck up in odd angles, his lean body seemingly relaxed, his pale face trained on John. When he spoke, his voice was soft but deep, the velvety voice of a person lulling you to sleep. “Good morning, John Constantine.”

“We had a deal, Dream,” John seethed, throwing the covers away from his body as he stood up and flicked the lights on to better see Dream of the Endless. “I held up my part of the bargain, why didn’t you?”

Dream’s eyebrows slowly slid up his forehead, the only sign in his face that he was surprised by John’s words. “Have care how you speak to me, Constantine. I will not have my honor questioned by the likes of you.”

Some rational part of John tried reeling him back from starting a fight with one of the Endless but after the devastating emotional loss he had to go through, John couldn’t care less what he said to one of the most powerful beings in the Universe. He’s had his fair share of dealing with monsters and aliens and demons and angels and he was not afraid of some skinny, emo looking git who thought himself to be important.

“You promised me I could speak to her, you right bloody twat,” John accused. “You swore to me you would let me speak with her.”

“And you did speak,” Dream said, his voice steady and deep and so otherworldly. “You were asleep for 14 hours. Enough time to say your goodbyes. It is not my fault if she wished to cut the conversation short.”

“Let me see her again.”

“No.”

A savage desperate desire seized John. “You—“ A fit of coughing interrupted John’s train of thought, an invisible fist curling tightly around his lungs. He tried gasping for air but he could already begin to taste the blood rising from the back of his throat.

“Your archangel wants nothing to do with you, Constantine,” Dream said, not unkindly. He made no move to help John, seeming content to sit in John’s chair, watching him. There was pity in his eyes, the kind that had the taste ofbile rising at the back of John’s throat. He didn’t want Dream’s pity, he didn’t want anything to do with him if John was being honest. Just to dream, to see Y/N again before John began to forget her face in the delirium of his disease.

“You don’t understand,” John said desperately. “She doesn’t know about me. About the cancer and the sickness. She doesn’t—“

“She knows, of that I am sure of. Archangels are omnipotent and Y/N guards over you. She knows about your situation.”

That was so much worse. For Y/N not to know about the cancer was one thing but knowing about it and not coming to visit John was another thing entirely. He wondered how long she’d known about it, how long Y/N’s kept her distance from him. His heart lurched in pain and it took nearly everything John had not to double over and scream his lungs out. Instead he focused on one thing, the anger that radiated in him. Dream was keeping Y/N from him, and he’d be damned if he let her go again.

“Is that suppose to comfort me?” John spat angrily. “To know that Y/N watches over me? I just want five more bloody minutes with the woman I love!”

“She is not a woman, Constantine. She is not human like you. She is a a being of unfathomable power, the kind that can bring even creatures like me to their knees,” Dream said patiently. Almost as if he’d expected John’s tantrum and was fully ready to comfort him if the situation called for it, which meant only one thing.

“You’ve spoken to her, haven’t you?” John said, realization dawning to him. “You were never known for your patience and yet you have let all of my disrespect slide. What did she say to you?”

“Noting you would like to hear, Constantine,” Dream said gently. “If you know what’s best for you—“

“I don’t care! Tell me what she said to you!”

“She wants me to tell you that she’s spoken with my sister, Death. Your death will be peaceful and you will feel no pain. Not in the months leading up to your death and not in they days before, she’s made sure of it. That’s all she wishes for you to know. Good bye, John Constantine.”

Dream of the Endless made a move towards the door, his hand reaching the door handle of John’s bedroom. There was a joke in there somewhere about Dream of the Endless using a door to exit a room but John couldn’t find it in him to make light of the situation.

“Wait!” John demanded before Dream could leave him. “Y/N made a promise to me once, about finding love. Did that mean nothing to her?”

Dream turned back slowly, his pale skin seeming even paler against his dark clothes. He gazed into John’s eyes his shiny eyes gleaming with unshed tears that had John staggering back in surprise. “Her promise meant the world to her, Constantine.”

And Dream of the Endless vanished into a puff of smoke leaving John with a gaping hole in his heart.

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