Disclaimer: I don't own Constantine. I wish I did. Don't we all? I also don't own "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day." I don't own Nicorette© gum, either.
Post-movie. John and B are on more amicable terms now. Let's just assume anyone can see B when his guard is down. And run into him. And knock him over.
Balthazar and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.
It started out as any ordinary day.
Balthazar was watching the cars roar around at a major intersection and waiting, just waiting, for an accident to happen.
All of a sudden a ball bounced out into the screaming traffic. Balthazar turned around to see where it had come from, and a little boy ran smack into him, knocking them both over.
"ARGH!"
The little boy looked up just in time to see his ball get obliterated in the mess of traffic. (Not just squished. Or mangled. Or flattened. Obliterated.) He then looked down at Balthazar. His face broke out into a brilliant grin as the half-breed struggled to sit up.
"You saved me!"
"I…what?" Balthazar shook his head and pushed himself up further.
"You saved my life! You stopped me running after the ball! You saved my life! Yay!" Balthazar then received a very sudden hug around the middle, and the boy laughed. Balthazar wheezed and hacked, due to the sudden lack of breath.
"You must be my guardian angel! Thank you!" And the little boy ran off.
Balthazar blinked.
"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
The traffic finally crashed behind him.
Later on, he decided to make it up with a visit to a local public school. Invisible and immaterial, he walked over to a big kid picking on a little boy. This time, he was going to watch them.
The bigger bully was holding up the kid's backpack and dumping out its contents. Money, trading cards, a lunch, a binder, a pencil case…
"Gimme it!" laughed the big kid. "Or I'll beat you up!"
"Yes…" Balthazar whispered encouragingly. "You do that. Be big. You're stronger than he is, it'll be so easy and so much fun!"
Then the big boy paused. He looked down to see the littler kid crying.
"Huh?" he said. "Hey, this doesn't make me feel any better. Hey," he said to the kid. "Hey, I'm sorry. Here." he picked up the bag and started putting things back into it. "You know, this card," he held up a trading card, "only works with this one." he put a hand into his back pocket, and held up the matching card. "You can have it, I've got doubles."
The little kid sniffed, but smiled. "No joke?"
The big kid grinned and mussed up the other one's hair. "Here, I'll even teach ya how to use it." they walked away, chattering on about the game.
Balthazar's eye twitched.
This time, he accompanied his scream with a little angry-dance.
"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
"If this doesn't go well, I don't know what I'll do." thought Balthazar wearily as he waked towards a teenage girl about to throw herself off a building. It was now late in the evening, and during the day the half-breed had witnessed at least a dozen of his attempts to make a situation worse go afoul. One had involved an alcoholic, whom he had mysteriously cured. Another was an abusive husband, whose hand he had stopped miraculously. Yet another had something to do with a terrorist bomber, and another, an assassin. Then there had been the cheater, the shoplifter (who turned himself in, no less), the bully, the kid in traffic, the adulterer, the liar, the runaway, and then there was that graffiti artist…
Balthazar grimaced. Something was going wrong in his existence, and he was getting pretty fed up with the whole thing.
She was about to jump off the ledge. Balthazar hovered beside her, almost too nervous to try anything, lest it all go wrong. But in the end, he had to say it.
"Go on, go on, no one will miss you. You're worthless. You're good for nothing. No one will care and besides, aren't you in enough pain, isn't this going to solve every-"
The girl had pulled out her cell phone.
"Oh, no."
"Mommy? I love you, mommy!"
She hurried away and ran back towards the staircase.
Balthazar was left alone on the rooftop.
This time, not only did he scream, do a little angry-dance and wave his fists in the air, but he let out a chain of swear words that would make a sailor blush, a trucker swoon, and a rapper faint. (and therefore, are certainly not appropriate for this fic)
Balthazar pounded on John Constantine's door.
"Open up!" he yelled, still ramming the door with his fist. It opened and John caught his arm in mid-swing. Balthazar growled and pushed his way in. He sat down at the kitchen table and fumed.
John leaned up against the wall, chewing his Nicorette© gum and trying not to laugh.
"So? What's the matter?"
The half-breed fumed. "Where's the Holy Water?"
John blinked. "What?"
"Just gimme some!"
"Fine." said John in a bemused sort-of way.
"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
(One soggy, smouldering half-breed and an explanation later…)
"Ouch…"
"Well, what are you going to do?"
"I was hoping (twinge) you had some ideas."
"Well…" John stifled a grin.
"What?" asked Balthazar, his eye twitching.
John whipped out his Bible. "Pray." he offered, matter-of-factly.
"AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
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