Becoming Nightshade

The dreamscape trembled violently as Maggie pushed back against Lillyanna's control, her presence radiating strength and defiance. The flickering remnants of Gotham dissolved like smoke, replaced by a churning vortex of darkness and light. Fragmented memories swirled through the air, forming jagged, incomplete images that pulsed with emotion—pain, fear, and regret.

A bright field, golden with sunlight and filled with laughter, flickered into view. A younger Lillyanna stood in the center, her smile radiant and carefree as she turned to face a group of faceless figures—friends, perhaps, or a family she once cherished. But the memory darkened almost instantly, the sun fading into a sickly gray as the figures around her melted away, leaving her alone. The once-vibrant field turned to ash, and her expression crumbled into despair.

Another memory flickered to life. A young Lillyanna, no older than five, sat curled on her bed, clutching a worn blanket. The shadows in the room moved unnaturally, their edges sharp and predatory, whispering cruel things into her ears.

"You're nothing. No one will ever love you."

The child's sobs grew louder as the memory fractured into a thousand jagged shards, the blanket slipping from her grasp as she dissolved into darkness.

The scene shifted to a crumbling cathedral, its stained-glass windows fractured and dim. Lillyanna knelt in the center; her hands raised in a desperate plea as black energy swirled around her. Standing at the edges of the scene was Constantine, his younger self filled with a fire that burned both righteous and desperate. He chanted incantations, the glow of protective sigils burning into the air.

"You can't save her, John," a voice whispered from the shadows, mocking and cruel. "You'll lose her."

Constantine's jaw clenched, his voice faltering for only a second before he pressed on, his spell reaching its climax. The dark energy engulfed Lillyanna, her screams of betrayal and anguish piercing the air as her body crumbled into the void. The memory fractured, the cathedral collapsing into dust, and Constantine's younger self stood alone, his head bowed in silence.

The most vivid fragment came next, slamming into view with the force of a freight train. The memory was raw, unfiltered, and devastating. It was the moment Constantine chose the world over Lillyanna.

They stood in the ruins of a burning city, the air thick with smoke and the screams of the dying. Lillyanna, her form crackling with unstable, dark energy, reached out to Constantine, her eyes pleading.

"You can stop this," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Save me. Don't let me fall."

Constantine's face was a mask of anguish, every fiber of his being torn apart by the choice before him. His hands trembled as he raised them, the sigils glowing on his palms.

"I'm sorry, love," he said, his voice breaking. "But if I don't do this..."

Watching the memory play out, Constantine froze, his usual bravado stripped away. His chest heaved, and he clenched his fists at his sides as the raw emotions of his choice flooded back, hitting him like a tidal wave.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse.

The dreamscape trembled again, but this time it wasn't Lillyanna's doing—it was Maggie's. The swirling vortex of memories slowed, the fragments pulling together into a cohesive form. Maggie stood tall, her presence radiating strength and determination, her soul beginning to overpower Lillyanna's. Constantine felt it—a shift in the air, a window of opportunity. The flicker of Maggie's soul taking dominance over Lillyanna gave him the moment he needed. He straightened, the glow of his sigils reigniting on his hands as he began to chant, his voice steady despite the emotional weight pressing down on him.

"Maggie!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Keep holdin' on, love. You've got her—don't let go!"

Constantine's chant grew louder, the ancient words resonating through the dreamscape as light began to seep into the darkness. The fragmented memories dissolved, and Lillyanna's form flickered, her glowing eyes wide with panic as Maggie's presence consumed her.

"You can't do this!" Lillyanna shrieked, her voice cracking with desperation. 

As the blinding light of Constantine's spell faded, the dreamscape crumbled around them, dissolving into fragments of light and shadow. The oppressive weight of Lillyanna's presence was gone, and a profound silence followed. One by one, the group became aware of their physical forms again, the dreamscape giving way to the dimly lit room where the ritual had been performed.

Maggie stirred first, her body still lying in the protective circle etched into the floor. The glow of Constantine's sigils lingered faintly in the air, the remnants of the spell dissipating like smoke. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment, before clarity returned. She gasped, her chest heaving as she sat up abruptly, her hands clutching at the edges of the circle.

"Maggie," Bruce's calm, steady voice broke through the haze, grounding her as the remnants of the ritual's energy faded into the quiet room. She blinked, her eyes wide and searching, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Bruce knelt beside her, his presence solid and unyielding, his steady gaze meeting hers. "It's over," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of reassurance and pride. "You're safe now."

For a moment, Maggie just stared at him, her mind catching up with the reality. Slowly, her expression softened, and a small, shaky nod confirmed his words. She was safe. She was whole.

Without a word, Maggie leaned forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Bruce.

"Dad," she whispered, her voice breaking with a mix of relief and raw emotion as she clung to him.Bruce didn't hesitate, his arms enveloping her in a firm, protective embrace. His hand rested gently on the back of her head as he held her close.

The room fell into a respectful silence, the group watching as the bond between father and daughter seemed to fill the space, banishing the lingering shadows of the ordeal. Jason shifted uncomfortably but didn't look away, while Dick's expression softened, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips.

Constantine cleared his throat, breaking the moment but not unkindly.

"Right, then," he said, his tone gruff but laced with a faint warmth. "Glad we've got the emotional reunion sorted. Don't mind me, just over here having a quiet existential crisis."

Maggie wiped at her tear-streaked face; her breaths still uneven but calming as the weight of the ordeal began to settle. She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on Constantine, who leaned casually against a table, a cigarette hanging from his lips and his sharp eyes studying her carefully.

"Constantine," she said softly, her voice trembling but filled with sincerity. "I'm… I'm sorry for what I had to use against her. I saw… your memory. The one where you had to—" She stopped, her throat tightening as she struggled to find the words. "The choice you made… to save the world."

Constantine held her gaze for a long moment, the smirk fading into something quieter, more reflective. He stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and straightened, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

"You don't need to apologize, Maggie," he said, his voice softer now. "That memory… it's mine, yeah, but it's also hers. It was always going to come out in the fight between you two. And if it helped you take control, then it was bloody well worth it."

"But it hurt you," Maggie said, her voice small, her eyes filled with remorse. "I could feel it."

Constantine let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head. "Hurts, sure. But I've carried that pain a long time, and it hasn't killed me yet. If anything, it's a reminder of what's at stake—and why I made that choice in the first place."

He stepped closer, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. "You took something dark and turned it into strength. That's nothing to apologize for. You did what you had to do, and you came out of it stronger. Don't let guilt over me weigh you down."

Maggie took a hesitant step toward Constantine, her eyes still glistening with emotion. She swallowed hard, then closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him in a sudden, grateful hug.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice muffled against his coat. "For everything."

For a moment, Constantine froze, his arms awkwardly hovering mid-air as if the concept of being hugged was as foreign to him as a day without trouble. Then, with a resigned sigh, he patted her back twice, his movements stiff but not unkind.

"All right, all right," he muttered, pulling back gently. His trademark smirk returned, though it was softer, tinged with something almost resembling pride.

"Let's not make a habit of this, yeah? I've got a reputation to uphold."

Jason, leaning casually against the wall, couldn't help himself. He snorted, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, God forbid anyone thinks you have a heart."

Constantine shot him a withering glare.

"Careful, birdboy. Wouldn't want to give you a reputation as the funny one in the group."

Dick chuckled from the sidelines, raising an eyebrow.

"He might actually deserve it this time."

Maggie smiled, the tension in the room easing slightly as the banter lightened the atmosphere. She glanced back at Constantine, her expression still sincere.

"Reputation or not, I mean it," she said firmly. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Constantine rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. Instead, he lit another cigarette, took a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke as he looked at the group.

"Right, then," he said, adjusting his coat.

"This has been fun—therapeutic, even—but if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a bottle of whisky and a strong desire to forget this day ever happened."

Bruce's imposing figure calm yet commanding .

"You did more than we could have asked, Constantine," he said, his tone genuine and firm.

"Thank you."

To everyone's mild surprise, Bruce extended his hand, his piercing gaze locking with Constantine's.

Constantine hesitated for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, as if debating whether to mock the gesture or accept it. Finally, with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he reached out and clasped Bruce's hand in a firm shake.

"Well, well," Constantine drawled, his tone teasing but not unkind. "Didn't think I'd ever see the day the Bat himself gave me a thank-you. Feels almost… formal. Should I be worried?"

Bruce's expression didn't change, though his grip was solid and unyielding.

"You didn't have to help her—or us. But you did."

Constantine released Bruce's hand and stepped back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, the smirk softening. "Don't go writing me up as a saint or anything."

"Constantine. If you ever need anything—within reason—you know how to reach us."

Constantine gave a lazy salute, his grin sly.

"Noted, Bats. But don't hold your breath."

With that, he turned on his heel, his trench coat billowing slightly as he strode toward the door. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the air as he lit another cigarette, his casual demeanor masking the weight of the battle they'd just fought together.

As the door closed behind Constantine, the room fell into a brief silence, the weight of everything that had transpired settling over the group. The faint flicker of the extinguished ritual candles and the lingering traces of arcane energy were all that remained of the battle they had just endured.

Jason broke the silence, crossing his arms and surveying the room with a raised eyebrow.

"Is anyone else hungry?" he asked, his tone casual but tinged with exhaustion.

Maggie, leaning against the edge of the ritual circle, let out a soft laugh.

"Of course, you're thinking about food," she said, her voice still a little hoarse.

"We just fought a soul-twisting entity, and your first thought is dinner?"

Jason shrugged, flashing her a small grin.

"Hey, battling evil takes energy, babe."

Dick snorted, stepping over the remnants of a broken candle holder.

"Seriously, Jason? Food? Now?"

Jason shot him a mock glare.

"Don't tell me you're not hungry, Grayson?"

Dick rolled his eyes, tossing a piece of chalk debris at him. Jason caught the debris mid-air, his smirk widening.

" So, how about we celebrate with burgers?"

Maggie shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"I mean… he's not wrong. I am kind of hungry."

Jason pointed at her, triumphant.

"See? She gets it."

Bruce, standing near the edge of the room, crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping over the remnants of the ritual. His calm, authoritative voice cut through the lighthearted banter.

"We'll eat after we clean this up."

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

"Of course. Should've known that was coming."