It hurts. You've been bedridden for weeks, sobbing uncontrollably as you half expect John to waltz through the door with a shit eating grin and exclaim that he just pulled a trick on you.

But he's not going to. He's never going to come back and that fact hurts more than anything.

He'd made you swear to him that you'd never try to bring him back from the dead, because you don't know what you're doing and only get yourself hurt, but how are you supposed to live without him?

John was the smartest and the stupidest man you'd ever met, 'the man that perfected the bad idea' he used to jokingly call himself until a low level demon caught him off guard and tore him to bloody shreds.

You know he's in Hell, there's no way a man like John wouldn't have a one way ticket there, but all the entrances there are closed. All except one.

It was a hard journey, and when you finally made it to the literal hellhole, the ground underneath you caved in and everything went black.

"Luv? What the hell are you doing here?" John's voice cuts through the darkness and the pain, and your eyes snap open to see his accusatory blue eyes analysing you. "Don't tell me you... You came down here on purpose?"