Summary: John's getting older and getting pissed. Though, on his birthday Chas buys him a strange medallion that ends up turning him younger. Oy fey, with youth, comes inexperience. Chastine! Chapter two, coming soon.

A/N: Yeah, I'm taking advice from Dakota-Jones and making this up as I go. And I have to say, its working! So, this fic is dedicated to Dakota. Thanks, girl!

Disclaimer: Sorry, I don't own Constantine. (

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John brushed dust from his black trench coat, glaring at the ground. That last exorcism was a little annoying. For one, the woman who called him wouldn't stop crying and clinging to his arm to cleanse her son from the possession, and for another, she wasn't even able to pay him half the price of what she was supposed to. But he couldn't do anything about it, for the exorcism had already finished before he found out.

So, with a scowl, he pocketed his small pay and stormed down the alleyway to the taxi where Chas was waiting. It didn't help any that the teenager was annoyed, either, because he took his time cussing the woman off for not paying him enough.

"So, John. Taking your time with exorcisms, huh? Do you enjoy making me wait or something? I mean there are plenty of other people I could be driving instead of-"

Chas was cut short by the look on John's face from the rear-view mirror. He stumbled in his words and moved his gaze to the road, pushing his foot on the gas to go.

Actually, Chas had never seen John that angry looking before. In fact, John had been in worse exorcisms, so why was he getting all worked up with this one? He didn't wait to press into the matter, but waited for the ebony haired, badass exorcist to blow of a little steam on the car ride home.

About five minutes from John's apartment, Chas decided to speak.

"So," He said, glancing in the rear-view mirror to find John looking out the window with a grumpy expression. He was upset about something; Chas knew it, and something inside wanted to help him sort it out.

"So," John answered back, in a dry tone. He didn't move his gaze from the fast passing lights down the not-so-crowded street. LA was always filled with lights, no surprise…

"Something bothering you? I mean, I'm ready to listen if you-"

"Piss off," John's voice stated, but his eyes didn't move to see the angry look that came across Chas' face.

"What do you mean, "piss off"? I was just trying to help, for Christ's sake! I wasn't asking you for you're childhood story or anything! God DAMN." Chas clenched the steering wheel a little harder, a scowl now appearing on his face.

There was silence after that, which seemed a little unlike John. Chas pulled up to the front of John's apartment and turned around to see that the man didn't move to get up, but was still staring out the window, like he was in a trance.

Chas suddenly felt a pang of guilt for that. Maybe he shouldn't have snapped at him like that…

"Hey I'm sorry-" Once again Chas was cut off, as John's hand reached for the door handle of the taxi and spoke.

"My birthday is tomorrow. If you mention it I'll chop off a finger,"

Chas was left speechless as the car door slammed shut and he watched John jog up the steps to get into the Bowl, Bowl, Bowl building where he lived above in the apartments. He had no idea that John's birthday was the next day, and it somewhat struck him off guard.

In fact, as he could recall, John usually got a little pissed off near this time of the year, in the past three years he had known him.

But what? He was supposed to blow it off and pretend it wasn't happening? Why would anyone want that? He knew that John always got him something when it was his birthday, even if it was just maybe a cheap relic or some exorcist books. He wasn't just about to not get John something in return.

And so, he decided it right there in the cab, just before he was about to press the gas to go to his apartment, that he wouldn't mention John's birthday, but only get him a present. Besides, John didn't say not to buy him anything. Just not to mention it.

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John woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover. Reason being, he had gotten so angry the night before that he couldn't sleep, so he used whiskey to knock him out. Though, then he realized it was a bad idea, for it was making that 'day' even worse than he knew it already was supposed to be.

A good thing was he didn't have a lot of people who knew about his birthday, so he wouldn't get very many, "wow, a year older!" 's from people, which might just cause him to be in a worse mood. So, the only people who knew would have to be Midnite, Hennessey, Beeman, a prostitute named Laura, Chas, and a few other people he wouldn't like to mention…

He pulled on his black pants and tucked his button-up white shirt into them, like usual. He wasn't really planning to go out, since he rarely did on this 'day', so he didn't bother pulling on his black trench.

That is, until he got an unexpected call from Chas.

"John, it's terrible! I swear to fucking God, it's TERRIBLE!"

John blinked once and furrowed his eyebrows. "Calm yourself. What's terrible?" There was a grunt, and a yelp from the other line, and John stared out the window with a confused sort of look on his face.

"John, it hurts, HELP! I can't take it any longer!"

The line went dead.

"Chas!" John called into the phone, only receiving the dial tone as an answer. He cussed loudly and quickly moved to the chest at the edge of his bed, and flung it open. Digging inside, he took out a pistol and headed for the door. On the way, he picked up his black trench and flung it around him, hiding the pistol in one of the inside pockets.

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The most obvious place for John to look first was, of course, Chas' apartment. Walking at a brisk pace didn't allow him to ignore the odor, however, for he thought he remembered Chas once telling him that a man and his family lived in an apartment near to his and made a living by trying to find the solution for stinky feat…

He didn't have time to think into that, though, because Chas was in trouble; hurt maybe. And he couldn't help but think that it was his fault for even having an apprentice… he knew someday one of his enemies would catch up with him and hurt the people he kept close.

"Chas!" John called out as he busted open the door to his apprentices apartment, pistol held and ready to fire. The lights were on, though flickered a little with a small buzz to go along, and everything in the room showed no sign of a struggle or anything. So, maybe Chas wasn't here? He was about to turn and leave, when he noticed something sitting in the middle of the floor.

Stepping closer, he realized it was a box wrapped in newspaper, with the word "JOHN" written on it in sharpie marker. He hesitated, but moved closer to it and slowly ripped the paper, then pulling off what came out to be a shoe box lid. Inside was more newspaper, all crumpled up over something in the middle. He blinked once, confused, and folded away the paper print.

Now rested in his hand was a medallion, connected to a chain to be made maybe into a necklace or something. He stared at it hard, and realized that if one looked close enough, the black color would turn white, then black again, then white, and so on.

"What the?-"

"Happy something or other!" Chas' voice rang out, from under a blanket on the small couch he had. He remembered not to mention John's birthday, like his mentor had said the other day.

Suddenly John's eyes narrowed and he stood, glaring harshly at the boy. "CHAS! What the FUCK are you doing being not hurt or – or something! You called me saying something was 'terrible' but you're FINE! I swear to GOD Chas, I won't fucking take… this…"

The look on Chas' face made him stop with slight hesitation. His anger slowly wiped from his face, while the tight clutch on the medallion loosened a little.

Chas' eyes watered, and one could tell by the strained look on his face that he was desperately fighting back tears. John didn't really mean to go that far in yelling, but Chas did scare him half to death with that phone call. Though, the boy was probably trying to make him feel better on that 'day'.

But John couldn't get himself to say sorry, since he usually wasn't one to do so. He lowered his gaze to the box again, eye twitching. "Hey,"

Chas tried to keep from crying still, especially when John looked back at him.

"Thanks for the… Birthday present…"

TBC….