Hello! this is my first attempt at a crossover fanfic and I decided to do it on Hellblazer and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's interesting that there aren't more fanfics of these two worlds because I think they can mesh together really well. Or at least a certain Laughing Magician can fit in the Buffyverse, which is what this story is.
In this story, John Constantine is 26 years old and the events of his life are more or less the same with the events of Newcastle occurring when he was 17. I will be drawing from other Hellblazer characters and storylines but will modify them to fit the Buffyverse. For Buffy the Vampire Slayer, this fanfic is Season 3 AU taking place between Episodes 4 and 5.
BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Hellblazer belongs to DC/Vertigo.
ALL THE KING'S MEN
Prologue: The Devil You Know
Sweltering heat and endless sun was one of the reasons that he absolutely despised Southern California. He may not have always liked Britain's cloudy skies and random showers, but it wasn't as oppressive as a bright and sunny day. Perhaps he was being overly dramatic and pessimistic, but he figured he had a perfect excuse to be.
Being a master of the dark arts didn't mean sunny days and a happy-go-lucky life. At least not for him.
For him, it meant a continuously growing list of dead friends and endless hell-on-earth type chaos.
And exile. He could've gone anywhere but when he got the call from an old 'friend', he figured it was better than sitting on his arse all day in some stingy New York apartment. He regretted it now that he was here with the sunlight bouncing off his grim and jet-lagged face. The flight from LaGuardia had been hell considering the circumstances that led up to it. He wasn't used to doing favors out of the so-called "kindness of his heart" but he knew that he owed it to the old codger. And he might as well see if it was worth checking out just in case.
He'd always led something of a wanderer's lifestyle, due to the nuanced nature of his line of work. But how he went from being one of the most infamous mages to be spawned out of Britain to an exile bumming about in the land of stars and stripes was something he couldn't fathom at times.
He'd have to bide his time, but he'd be back. Neither Heaven nor Hell would stop him from returning to England.
One day. He thought to himself. One of these bloody days.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took a long drag of his Silk Cut brand cancer-stick and chuckled sardonically to himself as he got off the train at his final destination.
It takes a special kind of idiot to build a goddamn town right on top of a bloody Hellmouth.
Although, whoever named it must either be a sodding idiot or the wittiest wank-stain to ever walk the planet.
He reached for another cigarette from his pack only to find he had smoke his last one.
"Bollocks." He threw the pack away, picked up his bags and started walking from the station to the town proper, grinning sardonically at the welcome sign for newcomers to the simple California town. There's sweet. There's saccharine. And then there's this bullshit.
Welcome to Sunnydale! Enjoy your stay!