1965-01-23 - John, Jesse, and the Shiny Doodad
Summary: John and Jesse try to figure out what the shiny disc is all about.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
jesse constantine cassidy 

There was little else in McMullinsville to find. There were a few non-useful bits of story here and there, but little else that turned up much, so eventually the merry trio decided it was time to take the disc back home and maybe take some time to look into what it was. Even if it turned out to be nothing, at least it was a fancy doodad that would look neat on a shelf and Cassidy could shake to freak Lindon out or something. And so, it is back to the familiar Brick Building in New York that they return.

At least it was something. A whisper. A couple conversations and cold hard proof that there had been /something/ there, if not God himself then an agent or something. Though as John always points out, angels are fuck heads as well—Jesse would never disagree with that, considering those they had met.

One more thing to throw on a shelf somewhere in their weird house full of stuff that John should probably label what is and isn't safe to touch. It may not be home sweet home, but it's the closest thing that they've got to it right now, and Jesse groans when he walks in, dropping onto the couch with an immediate stretch of his legs straight out across the floor; the metal-sheathed heels of his alligator skin boots clicking on the floorboards. "Well. That wasn't a complete loss. We know he's around. Who's got that thing we went dunkin' Cass for?"

Constantine did say angels were fuckheads because htey were fuckheads. At the question of 'who' John pointed at Jesse, "Hankerchief. Your left pocket." Though true to his word he went digging and brought Cass back a whole bottle of whickey that he squirreled away. "For you mate. You did us a solid there. Cheers." He was not always devoid of gratitude. "We found some manner of holy icon. It's… the real deal though no one said it was His. Also wouldn't be the only angel playin tricks with us either if I recall your story correctly."

Cassidy having long since dried out, at least literally if not figuratively, Cassidy wanders on in, grateful to finally shed his walking-around-in-the-day gear, since it was neither day nor outside. Most of his outer clothes get shed right inside the door and left in a pile on the floor. Underneath, in his thermal shirt and jeans, he wanders across the floor until Jesse asks where the thing was and he says, "Didn't ye have it last?" Then John points out where it is and he nods to himself, having remembered correctly. When the bottle of whiskey is produced he twists the cap off and tips it back, swallowing a few times before he offers it out to both of them if they want some. Then he parks his butt on the other side of the couch from Jesse.

Constantine took the bottle. That was a long ass drive with answers that were going to be uncomfortable in being forthcoming. "You know my mind on random intervention. It ain't like I don't believe, mate, it's just it's really rare. Now if it is… Him…. then we can get answers. If it's not we should definiately be gettin answers."

The mention that it was in his pocket seems to disturb Jesse a little bit, reaching into his pocket slowly, there was a soft, mixed southern mutter, "Oh. Right." The bundle pulled out of his pocket, frowning at the disc-shaped handkerchief, his brows coming together. Cassidy drops on the other end of the couch, there's a vague glance in his direction. "Yeah. Ah got it." Don't worry, they didn't drop it way back in BFE, New York.

That blackened gaze drifts back over toward the exorcist, not looking terribly convinced, still troubled over something or another, but Jesse still nods. Hoisting himself up, legs in, he lurches forward in his seat, elbows planted on his knees, peering at the disk. Flipping open the handkerchief to look at the disk itself. "Gen likes this thing. Or. Somethin'."

Gen does like that thing. In fact, Gen seems to hum and buzz in his head a bit when the disk comes out again. It's not the sort of unpleasant hum or buzz that would make one think that there was displeasure at any rate. It's kind of just a steady whisper as though something was trying to be said, but no actual words come.

The disc itself appears to be written in Enochian, in a small script that circles around and around from the inside of the disc to the outside edges, the words etched into one side. The other side is smooth save for an embossed starburst type pattern.

Cassidy looks over at it and takes another swig from the bottle of whiskey and shrugs his shoulders. "Beats me," is all he has to say. He fished it out. That doesn't mean he can read it.

Constantine was headed out the door only to have returned with a black cloth some candles and a bottle of vocky tucked under wing. "We… are going to get us an answer." Hel looked to the two of them. "Clear off the coffeetable for us? Thank yoooou." Things were set down and sorted aside. "Should ring up that intern. He can read it. Frightening, but accurate." He had to shake that reality out of his head. "Other options but, I'd rahter not call the wingy bastards in if we don't absolutely have to."

Jesse is slow to move while Gen whispers something around his head, compelled, it's not an unfamiliar look to John, likely. He's seen people compelled before. Possessed. Taken over. All sorts of fucked up things. The far-off stare of a man looking through something rather than at it. He tries to make out what she's saying, the wild-haired man's head tipping very slowly to one side, straining to hear.

"The who what now?" Cassidy asks, making no move to get up from his spot slumped on the couch. He lets John clean off his own coffee table. He fetches the doodads and makes tea and goes and gets clay pots on command but he's not a maid, and he does occasionallyd raw the line somewhere. He just watches as John gets out his accoutrements and takes another swig of whiskey.

Within Jesse's head he can hear Gen whispering, and the more he concentrates than the more organized the whispers become: He wanders. They stray.

This seems to be what she is whispering over and over again.

Constantine said drily, "Thanks a heap. It's fine." He moved the things that were on there and dropped the black cloth over the table. He paused holding up a finger. Hrmmmmmmmm He set up the candles not at the corners but slitly, no he jsut moved the table to the angle he needed then just used the damn corners. He fetched a bowl and got a black obsidian bowl and filled it with vodka jsut about 2/3 of the way up. He took a swig and set it aside. "Alright, let's find out wht thi trinket's up to. Jess? Jesse you with us?"

Jesse is not with them. At least not immediately. Cass goes to help a bit and the preacher remains sat, leaning forward, staring at the pinched disc half hidden in the handkerchief. His eyes slip shut, tight, trying to make out those words until eventually he whispers, too, "He wanders. They stray."

The second mention of his name sounds a bit like it's coming through water, but the preacher blinks dark eyes open, and wide, slightly startled looking up at Constantine. A little shaken, he scoops the cloth back over the disk and swallows hard, looking up at John, then Cassidythe later a little on the guilty or self-conscious sideas he rocks to his feet. Walking toward Constantine. "Was tryin' t'hear what she said. What're y'doin' now?" Peering out over the table.

Cassidy's been a little off since his dunking and subsequent thawing. Jesse might know why. He's hungry, and he hasn't had blood in a while, and eventually that starts to make Cass unpredicable, and eventually, violent. But it seems at the moment to have only made him mildly irritable and less likely to feel inclined to play Mary Poppins. But he has whiskey, and he takes another swig, looking between Jesse and John.

Constantine took out his lighter, the one Lamont gave him when they caught up over holiday. "Eh short story, going to do a spell, light some shit on fire and say some fancy word and we're going to drop that coin in that bowl and see what it tells us." He contemplated the fact that Vodka's flamable and looked up to Cassidy. "Might not want to sit too close to it in case, mate. You've had yourself a day already."

"Any chance to set shit on fire, huh, Connie?" Jesse wets his lower lip and wipes it off with the back of his free hand, eyeing the black bowl of liquor dubiously. He's rather reluctant to give up the coin to John. The little entity hitchiking in the back of his head rather likes it, and something about letting it go makes him feel itchy. "What're you tryin' to get out of it?"

Cassidy mutters darkly when John mentions the fire being close, and he pulls himself out of his corner of the couch, wandering off saying something under his breath about a fire extinguisher or something or other. He shuffles off into the kitchen with his bottle to let them sort out what they're doing with the coin.

Constantine gave Jesse that look and did something with him he knew Jesse might be pissed at him about later, but as an exorcist, and Gen's midwife, he felt ballzy. "I'm speaking withthe entity inside, Genesis, this is John. We want to find out where the coin coems from and see the prior owner. It's important to us to know it won't hurt you. C'mon now, luv.//" He took a deep breath and steeled himself centering after doig that. Provided he had everyone's attention, he said sinply, popping the top of the Zippo. "Going to light the candles, say some things and we'll drop the soin in teh vodka and if all goes well we'll see an image floating on top. If all doesn't go well we blow the candles out." That said John lit the Southern most candle first addressing the tower of the south, mother of sun and flame. His hand lowered into the flame once going like a Penecostal preacher, and letting it catch his hand on fire slowly passing it clockwise to like the next candle, the next, and then finally the last. His pals pressed in prayer actually making the sign of the cross as the Greeks dowiththe extra affectations and spoke in old Latin, with a clarity and distinction he usually reserved for work and getting shit done. He looked to Jesse (and Gen) and invited them to put it into the bowl.

Genesis wasn't used to people speaking directly to her. The same bewildered flail moment that John often got from most entities which went around possessing people made Jesse cringe and reactively twist his head away from John, uncomfortable bordering on painful. "The hell, John!?" Growling the words, those black-mirror eyes flash angrily back at John when Jesse turns back to him. The preacher bites his tongue hard to keep himself from commanding John to go eat a dick.

Not helpful, Jesse.

Still, the candles get lit, the alcohol is right there, it's not like anyone is taking anything away forcibly. Still glaring at Constantine, grumbling under the surface, Jesse holds the coin and cloth over the bowl a moment, hesitating briefly. At first it may seem as if his fingers aren't going to release it, but eventually…


The coin slips free of the cloth and gets a vodka bath.

As soon as Jesse holds the coin over the vodka, the whispering starts up in his head again from Genesis, this time louder and more jumbled, mroe words, though indistinct. But as soon as he lets the coin drop into the bath, four things happen:

First, Jesse's mind explodes with visions of angels in heaven, frightened, disorganized, uncertain as to what their directive might be, and others moving to seize power in the vacuum caused by God's absence. Still others entirely unaware that anything has gone amiss. And then he sees a car driving off in the distance. It has Illinois plates but the plate number is indistinct. There's what looks like an 8 or a B, and a 3, and a 9, but that's all that he can make out, as well as a jumble of visions of hotel rooms all alike.

Second, John gets a vision but it's not on the surface of the water. It's directly in his head, a blinding flash of light that leaves him reeling, literally, backward onto the floor and the words on the disc are suddenly in his head and he can understand them. It seems to be a long verse that has to do with traveling but his head is pounding and his ears are ringing and he may have to call it up later to understand what it means.

Third, everything on the table catches aflame, going up instantly at once.

Fourth, Cassidy ambles in from the kitchen, cigarette on one side of his mouth, smoke curling away from his lips, and fire extinguisher in the other. He hoses down the table as well as John and Jesse's legs while the two reel and stumble and fall over. He turns around, muttering something under his breath, and shuffles back off to the kitchen.

Constantine said it would work and to trust him. Well… it worked. Too well BUT it worked is the important thing. John briefly though about that point as he was thrown back from the table by a force far greater than himself. As his eyes rolled back into his head and his body lurched leaving his hands clutching his skull and foam gurgled at the back of his throat his subconscious mind reached out to latch onto all those highpoints he could. His conscious mind? Well that just gurgles as tears ran back down the side of his face to the floor. As Cass stepped over and past withthe fire extinguisher there might have been the vague impression that 'moderation' might be a thing to look into, but this is JOhn Constantine and he really couldn't be arsed to dial it down.

Well, that certainly explains the hesitation that he felt just before dropping it. Gen screaming in his head after John getting all squirrely with her, Jesse is already tired of this shit, and that's before everything suddenly bursts into pain, light, sound and FIRE.

A howl erupts from the preacher as he lurches away from the flamming mess of table; his voice torn between a heavenly and hellish cacophony with barely even a whisper of Jesse Custer resonating somewhere, burried deep beneath it. The click of metal off his boots strikes hard on the floor, followed by his knees as Jesse drops to the floor like a man at prayer. His hands sink into his hair, gripping with white-knuckled fists at the crazy black mass, trying to relieve pressure on his skull whis visions flash rapidly, powerfully behind his eyes.

Jesse tips over, onto his side. The man in black curled into a loose fetal position while they're all sprayed down with fire-retardant chemicals by a grumbly vampire. Aftershocks of tension twitch through his body once the howling is over and the migrane sets in, deep and impossible to manage.

Cassidy shuffles back in from the kitchen, having put his cigarette out, and returned the fire extinguisher. He looks at John on the floor. He looks at Jesse on the floor. He then drags John up to his feet and helps him off to his room, dumping him there to pass out for a while. Then he comes back out to the livingroom and he crouches down near Jesse, hearing that cacophony of voices he squints and says, "Alright, are you Jesse in there or are you gonna light me up like a roman candle if I help you get up off the floor?" Because these are important things to know. Safety first.

The swell of voices threatening to rake iron nails across Cassidy's soul ebbs while Cassidy gets John out of there and Jesse lays still in a dusting of fire extinguisher chemicals. Semi-conscious at best, Jesse Custer has had better times and some worse, though when Cassidy speaks, he grunts and presses a hand to his ear. "Don't yell, Cass…" His voice a bare croak.

"Sorry," Cassidy drops his voice to a whisper, wincing a little bit. "Need a drink?" he asks, reaching out to lay a hand, tentatively, on Jesse's arm. John, he is pretty used to picking up as a crumpled heap on the floor after something or another exploded, and there's usually no worse consequences than the occasional vomitting or smack with an errant limb. Jesse, he's perhaps just a little gentler with.

"/God, yes/," Jesse gushes in a hoarse whisper at the offer of a drink. Moving like a man with chronic arthritis all the way through his body, Jesse is leaden and cringing whenever his head bobbles the slightest amount, sending loud protests all the way through him. The preacher fumbles fingers along his friend's arm, trying to be helpful but honestly it's that drunk guy sort of helpful where he probably makes more of a mess of things. At one point he tries opening his eyes and immediately regrets the decision with a wince and tear of his head away, which makes the world spin and his equilibrium whirl around. "Oh fuck. That's somethin' awful…"

"Alright now," Cassidy whispers, "You jus' hold on to me there, we'll get you up on the couch an' off the floor. Then I'll go get you a drink. Keep yer eyes closed, we're just goin' up, and back a few inches, then down." He gradually hoists Jesse up just a bit, easing him up and pouring him back onto the couch, and once he's settled, he grabs a glass and he pours out some of the whiskey, taking Jesse's hand and curling it around the glass so he knows where it is.

Not too proud to get picked up off the floor and settled to the couch, Jesse's ego is nowhere in sight after that violent vision knocks him on his ass. Following along, the preacher lays his head back on the arm of the couch, sort of rolling his body languidly with a tentative slowness, as if his very skin were somehow raw to the touch. One leg sprawled off the couch to the floor, the other thrown over the other arm. Jesse allows one black sleeve to rest over his eyes while the other hand drapes toward the floor as well. Until it's expected to receive liquor. Then he's pressing the butt of the glass to his eye socket after a drink. Whispering softly with heartfelt intonation, "Thank you, Cassidy."

Regardless of how irritable the vampire might feel at the moment after healing hypothermia and frostbite and putting himself back together with no blood to compensate, he imagines Jesse's feeling quite a bit worse at the moment, and so for the time being, he puts aside his own grumpiness and focuses on Jesse. He pushes his shoulder up enough, just enough to slide a pillow in there behind him. Then, once he has his drink, he nods, "Welcome." His voice is kept at a whisper. He gives Jesse's shoulder a light squeeze and then he sets up cleaning up the table and the charred stuff on it. The round disc is fished out with one hand. Cassidy rarely has a fear of touching things. Nothing happens. The vampire remains unscathed as he puts the disc back in the half-charred handkerchief and sets it over by Jesse so Gen won't get antsy over it.

A faint grunt of protest when he's raised up and a pillow propped up under him. Jesse lays there on the couch while Cassidy cleans up a little bit. Charred remains of cloth and candles to clean up and the like. Preacher barely moves except to nurse a small sip of the liquor. Then a healthier gulp once he's sure he's not going to throw up. There's even a soothing sigh when Cassidy brings the coin back over, just near him. Tension in his shoulders visibly relaxes over the coin's proximity. Jesse hazards another peek, wincing at the light, but the more he feels the liquor soak into his bones, the more far away the splitting headache feels. "Ah'm lucky. To have you 'round, Cass."

"Yer damn right you are," Cassidy tells him with a glance over one shoulder as he goes about doing the maid job once again, but then, both Jesse and John are mostly incapacitated and someone's got to do it. He does grin a little bit lopsidedly though and says, "You'd have to pour your own damn drinks then, eh?" His voice is kept pointedly low. When he finishes off the remainder of the cleaning of the table so that all that's left is a few scorch marks, conveniently covered over as he pushes something over it to hide it, he plops himself down on the floor by the couch, leaning back against it so that he can take a swig of his whiskey, and refill Jesse's glass if he wants more.

Jesse smiles slowly, pained, but still a slow smile on his unshaved face. He doesn't dare laugh, but there's still that smile while Cassidy continues to work and Jesse nurses himself with alternating sips off the glass and pressing it against his aching eyes and forehead like an ice pack. The drop of a body near him draws a slow turn of his head and slitted peek of one bottomless dark eye on the tattooed man. Damn right he wants more. The glass handed back over, Jesse takes a healthy drink and closes his eyes. "How you managin', Cass?"

"Oh, you know," Cassidy says as he refills the glass for Jesse and then tips the bottle back, taking another swig. "Fair to middlin'. But now that all this business is taken care of, I'll go find me a bit of a top up and I'll be right as rain again. Healin' takes a bit out of me." He lets his shoulders rise and fall and glances over, studying those dark eyes for a moment with his own pale grey ones.

"Yeah," Jesse agrees, his tone languishing a bit, like he'd noticed. He's seen Cass get itchy after being burned or shot or something. More surley and belligerent than usual. Jesse returns the glass to his temple, head turning slightly in Cassidy's direction. "Sorry about that. Hey, if you think you could do me a solid an' just get the stuff that's pounding in my temples, I'd be more than obliging." A trace of a smile curves Jesse's mouth after that impossible offer.

Cassidy grins a bit lopsidedly over at Jesse then and says, "Would if I could, would if I could. I can go get you a couple of asprin if you like, tho?" That's about the best he's got to offer for that particular ailment. Then he shrugs his shoulders and says, "Nothin' for anyone t'be sorry for. We found the shiny doodad, right? That's a step in the right direction, or at least from all the careenin' around you two're doin', I figure that means at least you got somethin'."

"Dang," Jesse smiles back at that grin and wearily closes his eyes again to rest them. "Mm. Ah got the whiskey. I'll be fine." Because whiskey trumps aspirin, I guess. His words slow and murmuring. Preacher inhales a deep, slow breath, willing some of the knotted tension in his body to slowly release. "Yeah. Ah dunno what it is but it packs a punch. Genesis…" Jesse drifts and wets his lips. "Genesis likes it. Ah can't make sense of all what I saw." His brows twitch together painfully, trying to remember, but the nerves feel raw and hot. "Fuck," he breathes out, squirming a little in his black suit. "Means we must'a got somethin' at least though, huh?"

Cassidy seems content not to get up from where he's seated, letting his shoulders rest back against the edge of the couch and letting his eyes close as the two of them talk, stretching his legs out, one ankle over the other, fingers laced over his stomach. He says, "Aye, I got that feelin' that she was fond of it. Guess that's a good thing. Means it's probably significant somehow." Though when Jesse tries to remember and curses, Cass reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe just rest on it for now. When you both got some rest, then we can figure out what ye both saw and how it might fit together with the puzzle."

"She threw a fuckin' fit when I was fixing to drop it," Jesse grunts, his free hand lazily reaching up to rest on Cassidy's against his shoulder. "It's not nothin', that's for sure. I just don't know if it makes any difference what it actually is. 'He wanders, they stray', I remember that part. But the rest of it's like stickin' my face on a heated up iron. Mm. Doesn't matter. We're home now. Got time to figure it out."

"Well, seems she's settled down now that she knows it was just takin' a little dip in some vodka and not bein' destroyed. So hopefully she won't go meltin' yer brain about it anymore," Cassidy says hopefully. Silver lining? He gives Jesse's shoulder another little squeeze when his hand is covered, just sitting there quiet for a moment or two before he nods and says, "Home now. An' John might have some more to add to it. We can always take it over to the librarian there with the cats, see if he can read it, too. If we run into a dead end."

"Mills, mm," Jesse agrees mildly, keeping his hand resting light over Cassidy's. "He gets real jittery around me. It's almost like Ah'm a preacher or somethin'." His whispers dry humored with a generous twitch of his mouth upward. Inhaling a deep breath, Jesse's chest rises and falls smoothly, lifting his head again to take another healthy drink. "See what we can piece together. Maybe poke around Mills. Worse to worse, John tries to see if one of the angels got any idea—you know how much we all love dealin' with those guys."

"I figured out how t'get Mills to stop clenchin' his arse so hard he shits diamond. You just bring him a bag o' fancy teas and pet his cats an' he settles right down. Reasonable bloke after that, will chat about all kinds of interestin' knowledge." Cassidy taps a finger against his temple and says, "Smart one, that. Tea and cats though, that's the answer to that one." He then frowns a little at the mention of angels. "Oi, there's more o' them fuckers around here? I don't wanna fight them gobshites again unless there's no other alternative."

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