I do not own Constantine or its characters it is the product of Warner Bros. Pictures.

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Returned

Tall cumulus clouds in shades of white, gray and black slowly eased over the blue sky. The wind was cool and damp. The clouds drew back its cover and the sun softly hit him with its light and warmth. It was good day. A great day actually, he thought, a smile playing at his mouth. The kind of day that he didn't fully appreciate in his former life. Dying and being alive again taught him better. He opened his eyes. A small and low cloud rushed ahead the bank. A jet streaked across the sky. The grass he lay on was soft and the ground was even and cool. Yep, this is life, he thought closing his eyes again. Screeching tires and the wail of a sharp horn made him snatch his head up.

"Hey, Asshole!"

"Fuuuck you."

Yeah this is life, he concluded looking up at the exchange. The pedestrian and motorist shared a few more slurs before they carried on with their lives. And just that quick, his happiness in being back was anchored in reality. He sighed, looked down and ran his hands over the grass, enjoying the papery, smooth feeling. Heaven is great. There is nothing like it. It's like all your dreams rolled up with an awesome 8 ounce steak with caramelized shallots and honey buttered potatoes. Inexpressible: the feeling of rolling 'round heaven all day. But still, there's nothing quite like Earth. Sure he'd pick heaven, but not without Earth first. He was doing just this in Heaven: lounging about, enjoying the starlight, when a Principality was upon him.

The Principality called him by his true name and he answered. He was being called to purpose. For what purpose, he asked. To mentor a charge on Earth. Benevolent and divine guidance would be needed in their journey ahead. They felt he would serve excellently in this capacity considering his former life. He accepted and smiled thinking of people he would like to see when he returned. The Principality warned that he would not return completely as he was, so he could not contact them. He is being sent back for the charge. That is his priority, regardless of all other circumstances. He understood and moved forward.

Darkness.

And then he was here. Sound came to him first, the din of traffic, conversations, barking and airplanes. He opened his eyes to the sky, lying in the grass. He tried to remember the process that reincarnated him. He only found darkness. He inhaled. he could smell the dirt beneath the grass, the water in the air but it was kind of strange. He lifted his arm,looking at it trying to feeling it move. It felt funny. I'm here, he thought, but not completely. There seemed to be a kind of hollowness in all his sensations. Has it always felt this way, he thought. He tried to remember his last life but but drew a blank. He sat up confused. How did I die? He thought. His mind turned over nothing. What did he do in last life? The gears in his mind were trying to move as he mulled over it. It was there, all of it. He knew a few minutes ago...He knew in Heaven, but nothing came up. He pressed further back, where did I go to school? The gears came to life as a memory from his freshmen year came to mind. Jefferson High School. Who's my mother? He remembered a small apartment with yellow walls, a small kitchen with tile floors, the smell of bacon and eggs, a heavy set woman at the stove. He called to her. "Mom." She turned and the memory cut off. He continued this mind jog producing some memories and not others. Some were whole, others were pieces.

"Hmm," he said. It sobered him; reminded him why he was here. Not for himself but for the charge. He looked around at steel and glass buildings, flashing screens and people. He was in New York. Today's Babylon. And everyone was bustling about their lives, unaware of the roles they all played. In the multitude was someone that needed him and soon. He may as well get on his way but there was one thing he wanted to do first.

He had been given his formal jacket, seated and was promptly waited on. The Sheldon was famous for its 8 ounce steaks. Sheldon Steaks, he thought with relish. In his last life he had a milestone for himself. He would mark his success when he arrived at The Sheldon in a black Lamborghini, fitted suit, prime seating and waiter with one of those famous steaks already in hand. He laughed openly at the memory, ruffling his neighbors. Now he was sitting in The Sheldon. Pat and Turner, no Lamborghini, non-descript jeans, shirt and black hat, no fitted suit, he was seated off the side near the doubles, no waiter waiting with the Sheldon Steak but came back with it in 10 minutes. He died down to a chuckle and continued to ingest the steak. It bordered on sinful how good it was. The steak was perfectly seasoned, medium, juicy and the shallots practically melted on his tongue. The potatoes were bliss: starchy, sweet butteriness. He brought the warm red wine to his lips and savored the how the steak neutralized the wine into a sweet and savory palette.

"Ahhh," he sighed. Sat back in his chair and smiled at his perturbed neighbors. The waiter came to the table and promptly removed the plate and glass of wine.

"Would you care for desert, sir?" the waiter said.

Something in the waiter's voice made Chas feel rushed. He had attributed the prompt attention to excellent training and exceptional food service. But now that he thought about it, the waiter had been a little too quick. He wasn't wanted here.

"Nah, man," Chas said getting up with a smile, "I'm cool."

"Uh, sir, shall I have your bill brought to the Host?" he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Chas said nodding and walking away, "Do that."

"Yes, sir," the waiter called to him.

Chas didn't wait for the Host to get the bill though. He could guess how much a Sheldon Steak would cost and pulled out a fat wad of money (Nice, he thought), tossed two hundred dollars on the podium in front of the Host (That should leave an impression), tossed his jacket to the bellman, stuffed his hands in his non-descript jeans and walked out into the sun. He looked up at the buildings and shook his head laughing. He was playing into vices already. Yeah, they definitely sent the right guardian. Oh well, he thought. He ultimately knew better. And he really couldn't put off his mission much longer. His charge could very well need him now and he was eating steak. He looked left then right and decided to go left.

One of the main issues with his mission was that he didn't even know who his charge was or how to find them. You'd think they'd arm me with that information, he thought walking down the street. But they didn't. Not long after he accepted he awoke and was back on Earth. He didn't know what exactly he was supposed to do with the charge (guide is sounding really vague right now), how he was going to help or how long. But he was getting ahead of himself. Right now he needed to get to the charge. But how? He stopped for a minute. There was always a method to the madness...so maybe how he found the charge had something to do with the charge's dilemma, or maybe it was something he himself needed to learn for whatever lay ahead of them...Nothing came to mind. He would need pointers. Fortunately, his memory offered him a certain library where he could find some.

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Despite the author taking a very brief trip to New York, all places are imagined.

Thank you for reading,

Uitori.