John Constantine wakes up one morning to find out he's puking up bits of himself. What is it? A curse? A message from beyond? His demon blood acting up? No. It's cancer. He smokes like a freakin' locomotive and it's finally caught up to him. WELL, he's got no way to really handle this, not by himself. You can't just 'magic' away cancer, not without some help from on high or...
on low. John is, of course, the direct enemy of Satan, who has called dibs on him for past occurrances. Angels won't do anything for him because he's an asshole, and demons will just...
Hey, wait a minute...
Okay, SO! He decides to do a deal with the devil. Namely, the two biggest head honchos BESIDES Big Satan, who are part of a triumvirate that was put in place to rule hell equally. Had to set it up JUST RIGHT, so that when he slits his wrists to attract some attention, they all come in at once and almost literally bump heads upon arrival. The three lords of hell are all in one room, arguing over who gets him, and there's John bleeding out on the floor. If they can't come to an agreement - and they can't - he's going to heaven. So, they really have only one choice, though they are ALL gnashing their teeth fiercely at it.
They have to save him, free of charge, or lose him while going to war and probably getting the smite blown out of them.
The rules are very VERY picky about taking of souls. He can only belong to one of them, and he overbooked the flight so they all have a legitimate claim. So, they're all pissed and John severs a vein to force them to act quickly. He gets all of his life-threatening stuff pulled out of him, cuts and cancer and all, and basically had protection from them doing shit to him in the near future, since they'd all be in the room again with the same problem if anything happened to him. Oh, and before he left, John turns back to Satan and...