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It took a total of thirty-six hours to get from Central City to Heddwich. The first three hours were spent looking for last minute plane tickets and hastily packing a series of seemingly random and unrelated items in addition to his clothes.

(Jeremy hadn't been on an actual job like this in months, it was hard telling what he'd actually need for it.) Once the exhausting flight to Pennsylvania was over, Jeremy booked a night at a small motel.

He left early in the morning, but it took him half the day to find the quant little town because it wasn't even on most maps.

Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find the mine once he'd reached the town. Heddwich's soul purpose was mining. The whole place practically ran on coal, and basically if you weren't working in the mines you were drinking down at the local bar.

The mine spread out for a good twenty feet, at least. Rough rocks surrounded the area, large holes cut into the side of them to form cave openings.

Scattered across the dusty ground were varies digging tools and pic axes. Trucks were parked all around without any sort of order, and at the opposite side of the mine there was a small, dirty lake.

Admittedly, the place didn't look like much. Jeremy found himself wondering why a demon would want to come to a boring place like this anyways.

He didn't get to ponder on it for very long, though, because nearly a second after he arrived on the scene, Jeremy ran into yet another old friend -- John Constantine.

It looked as though he had just gotten there himself. Though, Jeremy doubted John's initial instinct was to go to the mine; he'd probably stopped at the bar to have a chat with some of the locals first.

(Jeremy had never seen much point in that, not even with normal PI work. People were born liars, and talking to them was usually just a waste of time.)

Jeremy froze upon seeing his old friend. Of course he'd been expecting to see him, Chas had sent him to help John after all.

He'd been expecting it to be rough, but Jeremy didn't know just how rough it would be until he actually seen him.

It was like being smacked in the face with a bag full of bricks. Everything came flying back at him without warning. Newcastle, Astra, the fight that inevitably ruined all their friendships...

Jeremy had been mentally preparing for this moment since leaving Central, but even so he wasn't anywhere near ready to face John Constantine again.

Nothing about him had changed, it seemed, at least appearance wise. He was decked out in that same old fashion he'd always had -- a white shirt, dark pants, long trench coat, and a stupidly loose tie.

His blonde hair was ruffled ruggedly, like he was trying to prove to the world just how messy and screwed up he was on the inside by making his outter image match.

He walked with a certain swagger that would suggest he held all the confidence in the world, but after knowing him for quite some time Jeremy knew that he was anything but confident.

It was supposed to be intimidating, Jeremy supposed, to scare people away from him. But for whatever reason it seemed, typically, to have the opposite effect on people -- romantically, sexually, or otherwise.

Jeremy was no exception. They'd, of course, never done anything together (though John had expressed numerous times in the past that he was open for business and just waiting for Jeremy to give him the green light).

But something about the way his eyes appeared so detached. The way he seemed to know exactly what he was doing all the time, even when he was just bullshiting his way through it.

Made a person want to follow him wherever he went, no matter how dangerous it might have been. And that was the real reason everyone had followed him to Newcastle.

When John spotted Jeremy, he froze for a second, and Jeremy could have sworn he faulted for a moment.

His eyes shifted over him, mouth hung open, stunned. "Jeremy?" Apparently, he hadn't been informed he'd be getting backup. "What are you doing here?"

Jeremy stared at him a moment too long before even registering he'd said anything. "I -- uh, Chas."

John nodded slowly, not exactly meeting the other man's eyes. "Right. Chas. Yeah."

"He said you'd need help," Jeremy said, awkwardly avoiding John's gaze too.

"Right. Alright. C'mon then." John ran off, ducking behind the larger truck with the cable reel attached to its backside. Jeremy followed him, taking note of how on edge John seemed to be.

He might have been eager to figure out what the hell had killed that man, but Jeremy suspected he just didn't want to be around Jeremy longer than he had to. Which was just fine, because Jeremy shared those same sentiments.

There was a single worker guarding the entrance of the mine. Jeremy probably could have simply approached him and used his PI status to get them in.

Instead, John decided to go with a complicated scheme to distract them so they could sneak inside.

John crept over to the bull dozer, which had its doors conveniently wide open; he reached inside, pulling one of the varies levers.

Instantly, all the rocks, which had been perched upon the raised blade, fell, crushing the green barrels sitting in front of the vehicle.

As soon as the guard got to his feet, rushing over to see what had happened, John and Jeremy snuck around the other side of the bulldozer's crane.

They hurried into the cave before the guard noticed either of them. The mine was dark, pale lights aligning the walls.

Against one of the cave walls a work bench was set up with a map so the workers knew where to dig. Again, two helmets were laid out, seemingly just for their convince.

As if the demon knew they were coming and was like, Come find me, bitches!

John picked up one of the helmets, flicking the light on, wincing when a yellow beam shined in his eyes.

Jeremy scoffed at the childish behavior, rolling his eyes as he took up a helmet for himself. Not that they'd actually be wearing them, the pair just needed to use the lights to have a look around.

John grabbed a pick axe, which was just laying around too; then he was moving again. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they went along.

Jeremy figured he was still reeling over his sudden appearance and maybe trying to figure out what to say to him.

At least, that's how Jeremy felt about seeing John. He could only imagine similar thoughts were running through his head. That maybe, for once in his life, John was at a loss for words.

Normally, Jeremy wouldn't have cared. He detested small talk anyways. It was useless and boring.

But seeing John so silent... It was a bit unnerving. Unnaturally. He should have been popped out wise cracks left and right, trying to prove how bad ass he was.

Instead, he moved briskly along the mine, shining his light towards the cave flooring so they could see where they stepped.

His shoulders were tense, and he still wasn't quite meeting Jeremy's eyes, as if he were doing everything in his power to pretend he wasn't there.

Jeremy would have liked to make believe that it was just because John was focused on the issue at hand, that all he was thinking about was solving the mystery demon murder.

But he knew better than that. John, while serious about his work, never really took it that seriously.

Jeremy heard a scuffle from behind them, pausing for a moment. He shined his own light over the rocks of the cave flooring, but he failed to see anything suspicious.

Still, that didn't mean they were in the clear. There were plenty of hellish beasts that could turn invisible or use camouflage.

He frowned, following John to the dead end of the tunnel, making sure to keep a watchful eye out for anything.

Horror movies got a lot of things incorrect when it came to monsters and demons, but they were right on the money with the jump scares.

John crouched down, running his hand along the wall of the cave until he found what he was looking for.

Jeremy watched as he lifted the pick axe he'd taken earlier, tapping the rock walls a country of three times, pressing his ear up against the rock.

Though, as it turned out, that was unnecessary. The obnoxious tapping was returned from the other side of the rock; Jeremy could hear it loud and clear even from where he was standing a few feet away.

John fell back, eyes going wide -- Jeremy supposed that was what happened when a sudden loud banging sounded right in your ear.

A moment later they were both stumbling, though. Something rumbled; the cave shook, rocks tumbling from the walls, dust littering the air.

Jeremy dropped his helmet, pulling John to his feet in an instant. "I think we've over stayed our welcome!"

With that, the duo sprinted towards the exit. They stumbled and tripped over themselves a few times on the way out, the mines still trembling, but fortunately they made it out before they were the next ones to be torched to death.

Unfortunately, the guard from earlier spotted them upon their exit. He tried calling for them, ordering them to stop and demanding to know what they'd been doing in there, and, of course, how they'd gotten in there in the first place.

Naturally, they didn't stop long enough to chit chat. John and Jeremy sprinted to Jeremy's rental car and drove off before the guard could catch them.

(Jeremy wasn't entirely sure how John had gotten there. He'd assumed he'd just walked.)

"Okay," Jeremy said, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove them back into town. Heddwich was pretty small, so it was a fairly short drive. "So, any ideas?"

John nodded curtly, glancing out the window, eyes running over the car's dashboard, anywhere but directly at Jeremy. "A few. But we should keep looking just to be sure."

His tone was completely passive, and Jeremy figured he'd come to the same conclusion he had: that it would be best to simply stick to the business.

No talking about personal crap. No bringing up Newcastle. Just strictly business. They'd get the job done, and then they'd go their separate ways.

"They're holding one of those cringy after parties people always have for their lost loved ones," John said. "I think we should stop by and have a little chat with some of the locals. Someone's bound to have noticed something."

"We should talk to the widow, too," Jeremy suggested, as they turned left. (There was really only one in the entire town.)

John gave him a skeptical look, actually somewhat meeting his eyes this time. "Why would the bloody widow know anything?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes, looking back at his old friend seriously. "John, it's almost always the spouse."

He did some quick numbers in his head. "Like ninety percent of the time. You don't need to be part of the law enforcement to know that, you just need to watch a shit ton of cop shows."

"Well, that's rude," John joked. "Accusing the woman of murder by demon and you haven't even met her yet!"

Jeremy shrugged. "Look, if it's not the wife then I'll buy you a six pack."

John shook his head, waving the thought away. "No, hold on there, mate. I already have three six packs to nurse. If it's not her then you have to give me something I actually need!"

"Fine," Jeremy sighed. "What do you want then?"

John flashed him one of his infamous smirks that somehow got all the ladies and men alike to fall head over heels swooning for him. "How about that green light?"

Jeremy let out a short laugh. They hadn't seen each other in months, and when they finally had a somewhat normal conversation that was the first thing he said? Typical John. "Well, I can already tell you I'm not giving you that."

John gave him a cheeky grin, pressing the issue even though he likely knew Jeremy's answer wasn't going to change. "Why not? I'm top, and you're obviously bottom. I'll do all the work if necessary." He winked.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "What do you mean I'm obviously --" He cut himself off, deciding it would probably be best if he just didn't engage. "Never mind. What do you want within reason?"

John shrugged off the rejection, probably not even really expecting a green light to begin with. It was just an old habit he'd happened to almost immediately fall back into.

A running joke really. A few years previous John had gotten especially drunk and commented that he could "get anyone to sleep with him even a straight man."

Since then he'd been jokingly trying to sleep with Chas and Jeremy, just "waiting for the green light" as he put it. (Though part of Jeremy had always suspected John wouldn't turn them down if they'd suddenly decided to dabble in homosexuality. But considering that wasn't something one chose -- well, the world may never know for sure.)

Jeremy figured it was easier for him to joke around then actually have a serious conversation with him. He had to admit, it raised the tension if only just the slightest bit.

"Alright, alright," John relented. "I'm running out of smokes. If it turns out to be anything other than our widowed lassie, then you'll owe me those."

"Fine," Jeremy agreed.

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The house wasn't all that spectacular. Though, Jeremy hadn't really been expecting much, what with the extremely small town and all.

People gathered around the yard, mingling. They seemed oddly cheery considering a guy was just murdered right in their own back yard.

A few people held potted dishes in their hands as they entered the house.

For some inexplicable reason it was costmary to bring the grieving lots of food.

John tossed the box of the chicken TV dinner he was carrying into the bushes as they passed them. (They'd stopped by convince store on the way over for their little offering.)

Jeremy scoffed at the other man's actions. "You can't just toss it there! That's so rude!"

"Says the bloke who accused the poor grieving lass of murder," John muttered.

Jeremy rolled his eyes as they stepped inside, but he was glad that they weren't giving each other the silent treatment now. At least, it would be easier to work together if they were actually on speaking terms.

John placed the TV dinner on the table as they passed it by. There were a lot of people gathered around, talking, drinking, eating. But no sign of the widow.

Jeremy glanced at the back of the room where one of the doorways were closed off, paper signs tapped up, saying family only.

John quickly set his sights on the signs as well, slowly inching towards them. "You mingle out here. I'll go find our widow."

Jeremy watched as John ducked under the tapped signs, disappearing around the corner a moment later.

Miraculously, no one spotted him. Then again, John had always been one sneaky bastard.

Jeremy walked around the house for a few minutes, listening in on people's conversations. (There was absolutely no way he was going to partake in cumbersome small talk.)

From what he gathered Lannis Cadogan was a real asshole -- something of a wife beater and an a narcissistic snob to his co workers.

If anything, all the locals of Heddwich were glad he was dead, and this was nothing more than a celebration.

The information might have added more to his widow murder theory, but before he could find anything definitive to prove it, a shout was heard from down the hall.

"Get out!"

Jeremy sighed as John appeared again, a woman, whom Jeremy assumed was the widow, hot on his heels.

She was smacking him with a pink hand towel, her face red with rage. "I want you gone!" She swung her arm again, knocking down the tapped up signs.

"Alright, alright," John said hurriedly, batting the towel away. "I'm going. There's no need to cause a fuss, right?"

The widow apparently didn't agree. She tossed her head around, strands of her brown hair falling from the loose bun she'd had it up in, pointing an accusing finger at John's back. "Someone get him out! I want him out!"

Jeremy moved to intervene, but before he could think of anything to do a larger man in a blue suit cornered John at the front door. He glowered at the British man as the widow stopped at his side. "Who is this?"

"He says he's a reporter," the widow said, sniffling slightly.

Jeremy groaned inwardly. A reporter? Really? Was that the best cover John could come up with?

John met Jeremy's eyes from across the room; he jerked his head to the side, indicating it was time to leave.

Jeremy started towards the door, and John swiftly turned, leaving the blue suited man behind him... At least he would have had that man not come charging after him like a bull, shouting, "Hey! Hey! Hey!"

John was stopped by two more hulkish looking dudes, and Jeremy winced. (Jeremy had decided to call them Mike and Ike in his head.)

Mike and Ike grabbed John around the arms, turning him to face the blue suited man. (Jeremy chose to call him Samuel.) This was going to get ugly fast.

Samuel marched right up to John, narrowing his eyes at him. "No body messes with my people!"

A crowd gathered around, watching the show down; Samuel puffed out his chest, apparently trying to look intimidating. "What is it you want here?"

John shrugged as best he could with Mike and Ike gripping on to him. He nodded towards the widow, who stood in the doorway, a frail look in her eyes. "It's as the lady says, I'm a reporter."

Samuel grunted, clearly not believing the lie. He nodded to Ike. "Check him."

Ike let go of John, letting Mike handle keeping him hostage all by himself; he moved to pat down John's pockets.

Before he could, however, John threw out his leg, kicking Ike in the stomach and knocking him back a few paces. He turned, jabbing a fist into Mike's chest before giving a punch to the face.

Samuel stepped forward, decking John and sending him stumbling to the ground.

Jeremy winced, the crowd gasping around him as the fight broke out. A third party (Jorge?) stepped in, pushing Samuel back before things could get too out of hand.

Samuel glared at John as he got up again, his face all bloody now. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Who the hell are you?"

His voice was low, and Jeremy figured he would have no problem beating the crap out of John if he didn't start giving him the answers he wanted.

Naturally, John kept talking bullshit anyways. He eyed Samuel up and down, that cocky smirk somehow still on his face even though it should have been knocked clean off after that hit. (But John wasn't very good at taking a hint.)

"I take it your the boss of the mine?"

"Yes," Samuel said with a sense of self importance. "I'm the president of the NorPenn Mining Company."

He sent another glare John's way. "You're upsetting the widow of one of my respected men!"

Jeremy couldn't help laughing at that. "Respected is a bit of an overstatement isn't it?" The remark caused the crowd to glance at him, shocked looks crossing people's faces, apparently surprised they'd been called out on their loathing for Lannis.

Jeremy looked around. "Oh, did I just draw attention to myself?" He gave the crowd a small wave. "Hi."

Samuel's glare was turned on Jeremy. "Well, who the hell is this asshole, now?"

"An old mate," John said, bringing attention back to himself. "And he's not wrong. You and I both know what you just said isn't true."

Samuel looked like he wanted to punch him again, but Ike stepped in front of him, sticking a hand up to stop him. (Apparently, he didn't want another fight to break out.) "Take it easy, Thad. They might be with the Environmental Protection."

Samuel -- Thad, as was evidently his real name -- eyed John up and down before doing the same with Jeremy. "These guys? No chance."

John shrugged, still looking much too confident for a guy who'd just been punched in the face. "Oh, in a way your associate there is not wrong."

His next words made him sound particularly insane, making the crowd around them furrow their brows with concern. "You've got a not-so-natural disaster down in that mine."

He narrowed his eyes at Samuel -- Thad. "You know it. I know it." He nodded at Jeremy. "And he knows it."

John went on, inching a bit closer to the other men, squinting at them like he thought they knew something. "What I can't figure out is why it's come above ground to kill one of your men."

Samuel -- Thad -- stepped closer to John as well, glowering over him like a grisly bear. "You listen to me." His voice was low, a growl reverberating from his throat. "I don't know what sleazy tabloid you write for, but I got my hands filled here with scared miners. The biggest threat to them is parasites like you spreading panic and fear."

John stared him right in the eyes. For a moment, Jeremy thought they'd start throwing punches again. Instead, John simply asked, "You heard it as well, didn't you? The knocking?"

Samuel huffed, giving him a short, "Go home." Then, he turned swiftly, pushing past the crowd on his way pack inside the house.