Author's Note: Yet another alternate epilogue for the movie. Sort of a dark twist on J/A. Actually I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say here, it just kind of happened. This is a combination of little pieces of things I've had in my notebook for a while. Interpret how you will. This is not connected to my other series fics, so please don't try to make it make sense. Your head might explode.

He looks grim and haggard, she thinks, years older. The fire is gone from his eyes and he seems to submit silently and passively to the slow torment of Ravenscar. Angela draws in a breath at the sight of him and swallows hard, wondering what has happened to the man she knows. In one week, every loose end she has thought would be tied up has unraveled into yet another nightmare.

"John." She barely recognizes the sound of her own voice.

He stops a few feet away, cocks his head at her but says nothing. The sight of him is strange without his trademark smirk. He looks like a ghost of a man.

"When they told me what had happened I came as quickly as I could, I—" She breaks off, looks at the floor. "I'm so sorry, John."

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. "Be okay. Had worse." He sounds unconvinced.

"It's not okay," she insists, suddenly angry. At him. At herself, too. "You shouldn't have to be here, what they said—none of it is true."

He sighs, looks at the floor. Angela chokes on a breath, her confidence suddenly drowned at the sight of his face.

"Is it?" He shakes his head again, but not convincingly.

"Doesn't matter." He looks distantly down the corridor for a moment, then back at her. "Walk with me."

She nods and he starts off toward the end of the hallway. Angela follows wordlessly, down one corridor then another, up four flights of stairs, out a door—and onto the roof. Angela's stomach turns over at the sight of it, at the sheer drop and the hydrotherapy building below. At the grim look on Constantine's face.

"You wouldn't—" Her words fall short as he continues walking, stops barely half a foot from the edge. "John, you're not…"

He takes a step back in to face her, grins dangerously. Shakes his head. Angela starts to breathe again.

"Are you okay?" she asks, though she already knows the answer. She wouldn't be here if the answer was yes. "I mean really okay?"

"I'm a danger to society," mutters Constantine. "You might want to stay away from me until I've been sufficiently rehabilitated. Kind of ironic, you know. I'd think you'd be scared to visit me."

"I'll take that as a no," she says, reaching for his hand. He flinches away, his gaze hardening. "Are you angry?"

"Why would I be?" His voice is flat, mind shielded completely. She senses he is hurting, but can't decide whether it is aimed at her or at the world in general.

"John…you know I never meant for any of this to happen, don't you? Weiss just…he only knows how to do things one way." It's bullshit in every sense, but it's the only thing she can find to say. She feels she owes him an explanation, however weak.

"Yeah, nobody ever explained that one to me." Definitely bitter now.

"What?" asks Angela, with a sinking feeling that she already knows the answer.

"You and Weiss. When were you planning on telling me about that? I guess I shoulda known, the whole 'partners' thing. But you still kept coming back to me."

"John…I don't…what can I say? It was so close to being over. After what happened with Isabel I just couldn't look at him the same way. I've just had so much tragedy, I didn't know how to deal with another one. And I knew if I told you, you'd get angry and then I'd never…" She shrugs, unwilling to finish the thought.

"And that makes it all better, right?"

"No, John…it makes it…human."

"Oh, that's rich."

"Because you're such a saint? What about you and Ellie? Yes, John, I know about her. I'm a cop, remember? I have access to all your records. Including who you had in your car all those times you were picked up for drinking. You can't honestly ask me to believe you haven't been fucking her on the side."

Constantine flinches, looks at the pavement. For just an instant his resolve wavers, and she realizes that she is wrong. He has been honest with her. Suddenly she wishes she could switch places with him.

"Look, I know you didn't kidnap me. You know you didn't kidnap me. It's just…what was I supposed to tell them, John? That a demon from Hell came up from the underworld and dragged me out the side of the building?" She is being overly defensive and she knows it.

"Oh, God forbid. You might've ended up in the loony bin with me." He laughs harshly. Angela feels nauseous. "I'd have thought as a cop you'd have a bit more creativity than that. What did you tell them, anyway?"

"I told them I couldn't remember anything," says Angela quietly. "And that's the truth, John. I mean…bits and pieces, but I'm sure that…how could it be real?"

He just shakes his head at her, looking profoundly disappointed. "I knew this was a bad idea. Damn it, Angela. Two fucking weeks and you're already pulling away. You can't do that. You'll get yourself killed."

"What would you suggest I tell them?" she asks tiredly. "What would you like me to do? I am so tired of fighting, John."

Constantine sighs, the tension between them breaking at last. He lowers his gaze, letting her read him just a little. She knows it is the closest he will come to an apology. "Look. I don't really care what you tell them. What's done is done. But I want to know what you're going to tell me. I want you to promise me, Angela. That you won't forget what you've seen these past two weeks. Even if you never see me again."

Angela takes his hands in hers for just a moment. She looks him in the eyes and nods just once, very slowly. He pulls away from her and turns his back. Head down; conversation terminated. Angela takes a long breath, trying to collect herself. She sees now why he has asked to see her. Not as an apology or a new beginning, but as closure.

As she walks back down the stairs, the image of him on that roof's edge is burned into her memory.

Review please.