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mxliv-oftheendless · 2 years

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Demons, the Lady of Dreams, and Tripled Fees

Horrifying nightmares of his worst mistake haunting every attempt to fall asleep. A member of the royal family possessed by a demon. A graphic exorcism performed in the dead of night, where one of the people involved would not live to see the morning.

Y’know, just a normal Tuesday night in the life of Morpheus Constantine. Or at least, it started out that way.

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HELLO EVERYONE!!! I had this idea last weekend while I was working, of a role reversal AU where Morpheus is the Constantine and Johanna is Dream and got so fucking excited that the first thing I did upon coming home was run to my laptop and start writing. It is twelve pages long in my Google Doc, so let’s hope Tumblr isn’t a dick about letting the whole thing be in one post. I had so much fucking fun writing this, it was an absolute joy, so I hope you all enjoy it too! I’ve also posted it here to Ao3, so go give it a kudos if it’s not too much trouble. OH ALSO: Netflix didn’t put the Latin words Johanna says in the subtitles, so I had to write out the words as they sounded, so this Latin will probably be incredibly awful. But other than that, happy reading!

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It was storming by the time Morpheus arrived at the nightclub. The droplets made the neon lights of the sign gleam even more harshly. There seemed to be no sign of anyone there, but he could still feel what was inside. It was emanating from there, like the entire building was vibrating from a silent scream.

As the cab rolled away, Morpheus took out his phone and looked down at the lockscreen. The messages were still there, the same place they had been when they flashed across his screen an hour ago.

Morpheus its happening again You need to get over here i’m really really scared I’m with dad at leland city club PLEASE HURRY

Seemingly on cue, there was a loud rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning.

The capital letters reminded Morpheus he couldn’t waste any more time. He put his phone back in his coat pocket and went to open the door and head inside. He didn’t regret giving Jed his phone number, because someone had to be there for the poor boy besides his sister. But he was rather frustrated that Cori fucking Walker made Jed have to use it so much. Whatever. He would just fix this and go back home… and definitely take Jed and Rose with him.

Sure enough, the nightclub atrium was completely empty. It was completely dark, save the neon light fixtures that were blinking weakly. The energy he had felt outside was even stronger now, enough that it vibrated through his body. The hairs on his neck and arms stood up and, despite the amount of years he’d been doing this, a chill ran down his spine. Because bright light was bursting between the cracks of the doors in front of him. That had to be where it was.

Morpheus swallowed to harden his resolve and stepped towards the doors. He was seriously debating just finding Jed and Rose and leaving, letting their father deal with the mess he had undoubtedly made. But no, he couldn’t do that. That would make the mess even worse.

He reached for the door handle, ready to throw it open. He would deal with this as quickly as possible. Hopefully it wasn’t too powerful a demon…

“Morpheus!”

Morpheus whirled around and saw Jed hurrying towards him from where he’d hidden in the bathroom. “Jed!” He rushed towards him and knelt down, relieved to see that Jed looked unharmed besides the incredibly frightened look on his face. “I came as soon as you texted. What happened?”

“We have to go!” Jed grabbed his arm and tried to drag him away. “We have to get out of here!”

“And we will,” Morpheus said calmly as he stopped the boy. “Just tell me what’s happened.”

Jed looked at him fearfully. “... He said it was an accident. Like when Mom died.”

God fucking dammit. A part of him had really been hoping someone else had done this. He bit back his frustrated sigh and instead asked, “Where is your sister?”

“S-She’s not here. She’s sleeping over at Judy’s house.”

Well, at least that was a good thing. One less Walker to worry about. “Good.” He straightened up and looked at Jed pointedly. “Now where is your father?”

Jed turned and pointed to a door off to the side. Morpheus strode towards the door, hearing Jed’s quicker footsteps hurry after him. He was going to give Walker the ass-kicking of his miserable life when this was over.

The door ended up leading to a backstage area of the club, which turned out to be far less destroyed than the rest of the place. And among the strewn about instruments, containers, shot glasses, and alcohol bottles was Cori Walker, passed out on a pentagram drawn on the floor in white chalk.

This time Morpheus did sigh in frustration and marched over to stand over the constant source of disaster and despair… and the pentagram he was lying on top of. “Walker!” he barked.

A book lying on the floor by Walker’s head caught his eye, specifically it’s title of SATANIC RITUALS displayed on the cover. He angrily snatched it up and smacked Walker across the head with it. “Hey! Walker!”

He hit him again, and this time the man startled awake. He looked around, then turned to look up and found Morpheus glaring down at him. He simply gave him an unconcerned grin, like a sheepish child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “Hello, Morpheus,”

“What the fuck did you do?” Morpheus growled.

“We were just havin’ some fun,” Walker insisted.

“Some fun?” Morpheus brandished the book cover at him. “Summoning demons is having some fun?” Walker simply shrugged sheepishly and he forced himself to not hit him with the book again. “Who is “we”? Where are they?”

“They must still be inside,”

“Inside the club?”

“Yeah… You don’t wanna go in there, man.”

Morpheus scowled down at what surely had to be the bane of his entire existence. “No. No, I do not. But someone has to clean up your mess.”

He threw the book back down on the floor and straightened back up to head back into the atrium. Jed moved to join him. “I’ll come with you,” he insisted.

Morpheus stopped and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re safer in here with your father, Jed, shocking as it may seem.” He squeezed Jed’s shoulder comfortingly. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Jed still looked unsure, but nodded hesitantly. “C-Can I go with you when you leave?”

Morpheus couldn’t help his small affectionate smile. “Of course you can. We’ll go home, get some sleep, then call your sister in the morning. In the meantime, stay here. All right?”

“Okay,” Jed nodded. “Be careful.”

“I will, Jed,”

With that, he left the room and strode purposefully across the atrium towards the doors. They were shaking now, holding surprisingly well against the demonic force inside. Whatever demon was in there was most likely feeding on Walker’s friends, too busy snacking to leave. Oh well. If they were friends with Walker then their deaths probably weren’t that great a loss.

Morpheus suddenly found himself inside a long, dark hallway. Did his surroundings suddenly change or had it always been a hallway? He couldn’t remember now. He slowly, hesitantly lifted his hand to turn the doorknob and open the door. But something inside him was telling him to run, to turn around, grab Jed, and leave.

Turn back now. This can’t happen again. You can’t let this happen the way it did again.

But before he could seriously think about it, his hand was on the doorknob, and the door was swinging open.

An explosion of light blinded him. The heat of flames hit his face. Unholy screams and wails overwhelmed his hearing. Then something grabbed hold of his foot and yanked him into the room.

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Morpheus snapped awake and sucked in a deep breath. He could feel his heart racing as his eyes adjusted and he tried to see where he was.

“Alright, bruv. We’re here.”

He wasn’t back at the nightclub, facing a demon with Jed waiting for him to take him away. He was in a cab, completely alone. And Jed…

Morpheus tried to ignore the stab of guilt that went through him. “Sorry,” he said absentmindedly as he fumbled for his seatbelt. “It’s been a long day.”

“My day’s just gettin’ started,” the cab driver sighed tiredly.

“I have a feeling mine is as well,” Morpheus muttered. He pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card to pay the fare, then got out of the cab.

The cool night air hit his face and he breathed it in to clear his head. He looked up at the looming cathedral as the cab drove away behind him and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. He wondered if his work would feel more important if he had gotten more sleep, but as it was, he just wanted to get it over with and go home. Just home, not back to bed–he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. The memory of that nightclub and what happened to Jed haunted him at night. The shadows on his walls seemed to taunt him with his guilt, whispering “Your fault,” over and over. The daytime wasn’t much better–waking hours spent wondering if Rose would pick up this time if he called… not that she ever did.

Morpheus took another deep breath of the crisp air. He had to focus. He couldn’t change what happened, nor could he make Rose hate him any less. But he could do this. He could do this job. It was why he was called. So with that, he began to walk towards the steps of the cathedral.

“Morpheus Constantine!”

The voice behind him made him freeze. He turned around and couldn’t help smiling wryly as he walked towards the man dressed like G. K. Chesterton standing under the streetlight.

“It’s rather late to be going to church, dear boy,” the man said cheerfully. “Even if you’ve dressed up quite well for it. Is that a new black coat?”

“What are you doing here, Gilbert?” Morpheus asked in amusement.

“Oh, the same as you, I expect,” Gilbert replied, eagerly shifting the hat and cane he had tucked under one arm. “She’s coming, isn’t she?”

“Who?”

“Oh, you surely must know who! Lady Johanna.” At Morpheus’s confused blinking, Gilbert went on. “The Lady of Dreams. The Oneiromancer. You know, the Sandman!”

“The Sandman,” Morpheus repeated, wondering if Gilbert had another screw loose. “The woman who puts little children to sleep? She’s only a fairy tale, Gilbert.”

“Oh, she is no fairy tale, dear boy. She’s back, and she wants her sand.”

Morpheus just smiled amusedly. Yeah, right. “Thanks for letting me know. But I’m late for work.”

He nodded goodbye to Gilbert, then turned to head towards the cathedral steps. “Take my word for it, dear boy, she has returned!” Gilbert called after him. “I know! I am two hundred and eighty years old, and I know!”

Morpheus couldn’t help laughing quietly and turned to briefly wave at Gilbert. Crazy old man…

“Constantine.”

He turned and abruptly stopped again (how many times would this happen tonight?). This time he had been stopped by a woman, who had appeared out of nowhere on the steps in front of him. She looked about the same age as him and had long brown hair. She had a fancy white trench coat over a black turtleneck, dark pants, and black combat boots. And strangest of all, she was looking at him like she knew him… even though Morpheus was sure he had never seen her before in his life.

Morpheus scrutinized her, trying to remember if he had ever met her before. “Do I know you?” he asked aloud.

“We’ve got business, you and I,” was the woman’s response.

Business? What business? He was certain he’d never met her before.

He glanced at the cathedral and looked back at her. “With all due respect, you’ll have to wait. I have business with God first.”

The woman said nothing as he walked up the steps past her and towards the church. But he could feel her eyes on his back, watching him. He had half a mind to turn and yell at her to fuck off. But it was far too late and he was far too tired of life to deal with anything besides the job he had to do. So he ignored her stare and walked up the rest of the steps to shove open the cathedral door.

The sound of his boots against the floor echoed through the vast, empty hall as he entered, looking around for any sign of life amongst the many candles. “Lucienne?” he called out, hearing his voice carry.

Almost in answer, Lucienne’s shaved head poked out behind a corner and she smiled happily upon seeing him. “Oh good, you’re here,”

“Not a favor,” he reminded her as he made his way up the small set of steps to her. “I’m getting paid or I’m going back to bed.” He decided not to mention that going back to bed would probably involve watching crap reality shows on Netflix instead of actually sleeping.

“And I’m sure you won’t accept “the honor of doing a service to devout followers of God” as payment?” Lucienne drawled as they walked through the vast chamber.

Morpheus chuckled wryly. “I never do. So tell me, why have I been summoned this time?”

“The usual reason. There is a soul in need of your help.”

“Who is it?”

Strangely, Lucienne paused before saying, “Oh… does it really matter?”

She sounded far too casual. Morpheus gave her a suspicious look.

“If I double your fee?”

He stopped walking and stared expectantly at her.

“Triple it?”

Tempting… but he still wanted to know.

Lucienne sighed. “Let’s just say, her family has means,”

Oh, not this shit again…

Morpheus sighed. “If her family is in any way royal, the answer is no. I’m done with that.”

“I know, but none of them know she’s here,” Lucienne argued.

“Who is it, the princess?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny. She came here about an hour ago, demanding that I marry her and her boyfriend before the palace and the press find out.”

Morpheus frowned. “Why? Who does she want to marry?”

Lucienne looked like she was biting back a laugh. “Kevin Brody,”

He blinked at her. “The football player?” Lucienne nodded. “Perhaps she is possessed, then. She could do far better.”

“I don’t follow sports, so I really can’t say,”

What was this, a bad romance novel? “Lucienne, just because a Goldsmith-educated princess wants to marry a subpar football player–”

“It’s not just that,”

“–does not mean she needs an exorcism.”

“It’s not just that,” Lucienne repeated with a sigh, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Just talk to her, and you’ll understand.”

“It’s far too risky with royals,” Morpheus argued. “If this goes wrong, there will be a dead princess, a demon running riot, and no one to…”

“Let me go! FUCK OFF!!”

Morpheus trailed off at the echoing screaming and turned to look in the direction it came from. “... Well shit,” he couldn’t help saying.

“Told you,” Lucienne muttered.

“Is that her?”

“Can you not smell the sulfur?”

He could, actually. But he’d gotten so used to it by now he hadn’t noticed it at first.

Morpheus paused, weighing his options. Either he went in there and tried to exorcize a member of royalty who potentially didn’t need an exorcism… or he could go back home and fight off sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to relive the memory of that godforsaken nightclub again.

He sighed. “Where is she?”

Lucienne smiled happily and they resumed their walk. “In my office. You’ll need this,” she handed him her Rituale Romanum, “and should I get holy water as well?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Morpheus hummed, thinking about what to do. “I cannot burst in speaking in Latin… Has she been restrained? Is that why she sounds like that?”

“She sounds like that because she’s been possessed by a demon,” Lucienne huffed.

“We could tie her up,” Morpheus said thoughtfully. He had half a mind to continue the joke, just to see how scandalized Lucienne would get. “Do you think she would enjoy that?”

Sure enough, she stopped and looked at him like he’d just told her he didn’t care for The Godfather. “She is British royalty!”

“We don’t have to drug her,” Morpheus insisted, trying not to laugh at her face. “It would all be very consensual.”

Lucienne looked like she wanted to smack him upside the head. “Have you got any other ideas?”

Morpheus looked in the direction of where the princess was still screaming. Then an idea popped into his head. “I do.” He turned to Lucienne. “But I’m going to need your clothes.”

A few minutes and a decision to not remark to Lucienne how they somehow were the same size later, Morpheus stood, fully clad as a vicar, in front of the princess and the football player. After getting a good look at him, he stood by what he said before–the princess could definitely do better. Both of them were so eager to get married as quickly as possible that neither of them noticed that the vicar performing the ceremony had messy, unkempt hair and eyeliner.

He could smell the sulfur in the room (it was so strong he was sure he’d have to put his clothes through the wash to get the rotten egg smell out), and could feel the presence of something unholy. The problem was, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He was pretty certain it was coming from the princess, since Lucienne was rarely wrong about who she thought was possessed. But still, he didn’t like any kind of uncertainty.

“Do you, Princess, take this–”

“I do.”

Morpheus trailed off at the slightly rude interruption. But the princess, clad in a simple yet becoming white dress, simply stared back at him with hardened resolve.

Kevin Brody, being the second-tier football player he was, seemed less certain, glancing at his fiance hesitantly. “Wait–babe, are you absolutely sure you wanna do this?”

The princess turned to him, and Morpheus half-wondered if she would ask if she fucking stuttered. “I said “I do” because I do, Kevin.”

“No, I mean… Are you sure you don’t want a big royal-wedding-of-the-century-type wedding? With, like, the queen and photographers and stuff?”

Oh dear, trouble in paradise already. If it turned out there was no demon, Morpheus may be convinced to get a social media account just to see how this marriage played out.

The princess’s face softened into what had to be the most loving, adoring look Morpheus had ever seen. If not for the circumstances, he would’ve admitted it was genuinely sweet. “I just want you,” she told him.

Ew. Definitely the plot of a bad romance novel… not that he read those.

Her words seemed to persuade him, and they both turned back to him. “Let’s get on with it, please,” the princess said politely.

Morpheus nodded slightly. “And do you, Kevin–”

He heard a cracking noise, then Kevin Brody yelped. “Ow! Yeah! Yeah, I do.”

“Wonderful. Then repeat after me. Da locum derisimae.”

“Da locum derisimae.”

“Da locum empi isimae.”

“Da locum empi–”

Kevin Brody suddenly stopped and hunched over, coughing loudly. Both the princess and Morpheus’s heads immediately turned towards him as he cleared his throat and straightened up, trying to laugh it off. “Sorry,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Been fasting. Just in case there were photographers. You know what I’m sayin’?” The princess looked like she very much did not know what he was saying, and his awkward grin faded. “Doesn’t matter.”

She gave him what looked like a warning glare and turned back to Morpheus. “Keep going,” she demanded.

Morpheus, however, wasn’t looking at her. He was studying Kevin Brody suspiciously. Maybe he’d been right all along, and the princess wasn’t possessed at all… but someone in this room still was. “Da locum christo…”

“Da locum christ–” Kevin Brody doubled over again, this time looking like he’d been about to throw up. He held up a hand desperately. “Sorry, can we–”

Morpheus kept chanting, the words coming rapidly. “Vonelium venistido perebustubis,”

Kevin Brody grabbed his throat and doubled over in pain, actually gagging this time. The princess just looked at him, aghast. “Are you going to be sick?! Kevin! Are you going to be sick during our wedding?!”

Morpheus just studied him and went on. “Quotis boliavit quam regnum tuom destrucit.”

The princess kept looking back and forth between him and her fiance, who had been sent down to his knees. “Kevin!”

Kevin Brody gagged… and then a green hand with black nails slowly slithered out of his mouth.

Oh shit. “Quivit emigavit, evasa tuem eripulit!”

And Kevin Brody, or at least his body, was rocketed to its feet and its head was thrown back as a green arm and hand burst out of the mouth. The demon inside growled, the sound booming through the cathedral, as the hand clawed at the air. Then another green hand slowly appeared, then an arm, tearing through the mouth and face as it fought its way out of its constricting vessel. Then both hands reached back to grab the top of the head, and tore the body in half. What used to be subpar football star Kevin Brody exploded in a mess of blood, bones, and flesh. In the body’s place stood a huge, hulking demon. He had green skin, pointed ears, spikes of purple-gray hair atop his head, completely black eyes, and a darker green vest and pants. The demon exhaled with an enraged snarl and stood to his full height, towering over the princess and Morpheus’s heads.

Morpheus’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he vaguely registered the princess bursting into terrified tears. Wow. He really hadn’t seen that coming. Lucienne had been convinced the princess was possessed, not the footballer, and she was never wrong. That’s a twist.

Speaking of whom… “Lucienne!” he called, not taking his eyes off the demon. The demon glared right back at him as his arms and legs slowly cracked and snapped back into place.

Footsteps echoed, then Lucienne appeared, clutching his coat around her. She froze in shock upon seeing the demon. “You won’t believe this,” Morpheus said to her, “but you were wrong about who was possessed.”

“Oh dear,” was all Lucienne responded with.

Morpheus glanced at the princess, who had backed away in terror and had her hands over her mouth to conceal her hysterical sobs. “Get her out of here.”

Lucienne nodded and went to place her hands gently on the distraught princess’s shoulders and hurry her out of the hall. “Come along, dear. There we go. Come with me.”

The demon’s head and body turned and he seemed to be watching as Lucienne and the princess left the room. He let out a growl of frustration. Morpheus didn’t want to find out if that meant he was going to attack them, so he began to chant again, stepping down to the floor. “Visitas vasuomos dominae. Habitatione istum et omnis–”

“You… talk too much,” the demon snarled as he turned around to face him. “Especially for a little twink in eyeliner.”

Morpheus chose to ignore the very original insult he had never heard before. “If you tell me your name, I’ll stop,” he retorted.

“Now why would I do that,” the demon said, advancing on him with a very lecherous smile, “when there’s far more enjoyable ways to make you stop?”

“His name is Choronzon.”

Morpheus whipped around and found the woman from outside in the white trench coat standing behind him. Her chin was raised regally and she gazed at the demon—Choronzon, apparently—with a very intent look, like she wanted something from him. “A Duke of Hell,” she finished.

The green-skinned demon grinned at her. “Surprised you remember me, Lady Johanna,” he sneered mockingly, “after your little vacation away.”

The woman simply smiled dryly at him. “Nice to see you too, Choronzon,” she said mildly sarcastically.

Morpheus, who had backed away a few steps, turned to look again at the woman, this time remembering what Gilbert had said to him. “Lady Johanna?” he repeated to himself, astonished. He couldn’t believe it…

Choronzon apparently heard him. “It is indeed, little twink. Though she looks a bit different without her helm.” He grinned at her. “Now where do you think that could be?”

“I’m guessing it’s in Hell with the demon it was traded to,” Lady Johanna shot back.

“Yeah, but which demon? Gimme the princess and I might be willin’ to tell you.”

Fuck this. Morpheus was out of patience. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on here between these two primordial beings, but he was past the point of caring. It was far too late for this shit. So he grabbed his crucifix out of his boot, held it out towards Choronzon, and began to chant again. “Exis ergo, Choronzon!”

A panicked look appeared on Lady Johanna’s face. “Wait!”

Flames began to appear around Choronzon’s feet with a blast of heat as Morpheus kept chanting. Choronzon yelled in surprise and fear as tendrils of flames wrapped around his arms and pulled him down.

“ALRIGHT FINE!” he yelled, whipping his head around to Lady Johanna. “I’ll tell you where your fucking helm is. Just don’t send me back!”

“Erventis tutis suom memuoquis–”

“Constantine!” Lady Johanna yelled, running down the steps. “Stop!”

“–engentium Choronzon! Visitas vasuomos dominae!”

“I SAID STOP!” Lady Johanna screamed as a portal opened below Choronzon’s feet and he was slowly sucked down. “STOP!”

“DREAM OF THE ENDLESS COMMANDS YOU!” Choronzon roared at Morpheus as he finished his chant.

“Make like a good demon and fuck off back to Hell!” Morpheus shot back.

The floor rumbled under his feet and flames appeared between the stones. Ash and flame shot up and twisted around Choronzon’s body, consuming his form, until with one last despairing roar, the demon was dragged back down to Hell.

Morpheus slowly lowered his crucifix as the embers blinked out, and finally turned his eyes to look at the woman across from the mess of soot on the floor. Lady Johanna looked down at the place Choronzon had just disappeared from, then slowly lifted her head to give him a mortified look.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” she asked him.

With a flourish, Morpheus snapped the Rituale Romanum shut. “I do,” he replied, finally allowing himself to smile in satisfaction. “I have just tripled my fee.”

Then he turned on his heel and strode away. Tonight was turning out to be pretty okay after all. “Lucienne? Will I be invoicing the Church of England or Buckingham Palace for this?”