Walking home late has never been new to you, and despite the full moon being out, you have your pepper spray on you for any weirdos that jump out of the shadows. Or, so you thought.

All at once, a black furry blur wearing a trenchcoat barrels into you, knocking you to the ground and sniffing you all over.

You shriek in surprise and a bit of pain as the object puts its considerable weight on you, pinning you to the grass. It looks like a giant dog, but dogs don't wear trenchcoats or reek of cigarettes as far as you know.

A giant glob of drool lands on your cheek as the dog(?) licks you, and then you realise that it's John's trenchcoat.

This means that John has been ripped to shreds by this dog the size of a hellhound (actually, it might be a hellhound) and it stole his trenchcoat to pose as him Big Bad Wolf style, or he's been bitten by a were-hellhound and turned into a giant slobbering black dog with glowing red eyes.

Knowing John, there's really only one option it can be.

Also, the way he's nuzzling against you and licking you is a distinctly John Constantine trait. Only he would be this clingy while suffocating you in matted black fur.