Yummy new story!
Title: And Now for Something Completely Different
Disclaimer: I don't own nothing.
Rating: PG-13 for now, might go up.
Summary: After an unsettling run in with Balthazar, Chas makes an unintentional wish that forces him an John to switch bodies. How is the world famous John Constantine going to survive in the ackward body of a clumsy teenager? What happens when Chas realizes he's now old enough to drink?
Author's Note: As per usual, I'm not sure where this came from. So, just sit back and enjoy. Also, I borrowed a few quotes from 'Scrubs'(a wonderful show, I command you all to go out and buy the Season 1 dvd). If you can pinpoint them, then I'll give you a cookie. A metaphorical cookie.
Chas
"Stay in the car," John says, slamming the back door shut.
Stay in the car, stay in the car. Get a new line, John, I think as he stalks into the apartment building, all hunched over, sucking on his cigarette like it's life itself. Oh, yes, it's so dramatic.
Everyday, I stay in the fucking car. Everyday I read some stupid demonology book I've already read a million times. Everyday I wait for John to get back so I can try and get all the details from his latest job. Everyday he has to be a jackass and try to shut me out.
Oh, sure, he's a hardass on the job. But once you get a few drinks in him, he ready and willing to start up a game of strip twister and sing the Pina Colada song.
Not that we ever…I mean, we've never, you know, done that…
But I digress.
The point is that he can't just expect me to sit back and take it. You know what I bet? I bet he's just too worried that I'll be better at all of this at him. I bet he just can't handle a little competition.
It's not about protecting me at all. I'm eighteen, I'm an adult, I could handle myself.
It's like he doesn't even want me around. As an apprentice…or anything. I just wish sometimes he could see me the same way that I see him. I wish he would look at me the way that I look at him.
I could be helpful. I bet I could even help that woman on the corner being mugged.
That woman on the corner being mugged? "Motherfuck."
There's a woman on the corner being mugged. What should I do? Oh, shit, what should I do?
Ok, don't freeze up. Do something. You have to do something.
So, I do the dumbest thing possible.
"Hey, fucker! Yeah, you! Big hairy guy with the knife! Why don't you pick on someone your own size, maybe someone with balls!"
I am going to die.
He's turns slowly, giving the woman just enough time to grab her purse and run off into the night, screaming for the cops.
Get down, you idiot! I shimmy underneath the steering wheel and lay flat on the floor of the car and pray to God I'm quicker than I think I am.
Alright Lord, I know I haven't really stopped by church lately. And I know I've had dirty thoughts, and I'm sure you know all about the John situation, but God please, I don't want to be killed in this car.
Shifting, I lift my knee up just enough to pull a sharp cornered book out from under my ass. Also just high enough to accidentally beep the fucking horn.
A knife taps softly on the window and I look up into the glinting eyes of the madman mugger. He waves.
I wave back. Maybe if I'm courteous, he won't slit my throat.
No such luck. He's shattered the window and there's glass falling everywhere.
I'm going to die.
John is going to be so pissed.
John
Another successful job. Another two hundred dollar fee sitting in my pocket. Another night that I'll spend washing the smell of urine and vomit out of my clothes.
I need a new job.
Not that I don't love this gig. Sure, it's a laugh riot pulling demons out of little kids, but it's not as if it's getting me anywhere. The guy upstairs isn't buying into the whole redemption idea. What's the point of trying to save myself? I should be out there, living what little of my life I have left.
But, hey, I'm good at what I do. Plus, what better job security is there?
Plus, there's the kid.
I've got to stop calling him that.
But honestly, what are the chances that he would actually still want to be around me if I didn't do what I do? All he wants is to learn to be just like me.
Just like me. That kid needs some sense knocked into him.
Maybe I should bring him inside the next time. Let him see what it's really like. Let him see the gruesome truth rather than the idealistic glory.
Then maybe he won't want to sleep on my couch anymore and eat all my food. Then maybe he'll go get a real job and be safe.
But that's not what he wants. It's not what I want either, to be honest. All I want is to…
Impure thoughts. Fuck. That erases whatever good I've done tonight.
"Well, Johnny Boy, funny seeing you here."
Oh, great. Just what I need.
"I don't have time for macho banter," I tell him, roughly pushing my way past him on the landing.
"Now. Johnny, why can't we ever have a pleasant discussion?"
He places a hand on my arm and push him backwards. I can already feel my blood start to boil.
Goddamn, I wish he would just cross the line, just a little so I can blow his fucking head off and send him straight back to hell.
"I would check on that little apprentice of yours, John," Balthazar remarks, looking at his nails.
"Seems like he's gotten himself into a little scrape."
Little scrape? What the hell does that mean? Alright, now I've lost my temper.
I turn and grab him by the hair, pulling him in close. He doesn't flinch, he just chuckles snidely.
"Now, now, Johnny Boy, where have you been hiding that boy? He is a boy, isn't he? Can't be much more than a young man. Well, he is a looker, John, I wonder what he tastes like."
Balthazar flicked his forked tongue against my cheek and all the bottled up anger and disgust came flooding out of every vein. For a moment everything was hazy and dizzy, but I could see myself, slamming Balthazar's head into the wall and bits of plaster falling to the floor like snowflakes.
"You touch a hair on his head, and I will tear you apart, limb from limb, with my bare hands."
"Oh, please, John, these little good versus evil speeches are so passé."
"Passe, huh? Well, let me tell you a little story then, Balthazar, it was my favorite growing up. It's called 'The Tortoise and the Pain-in-the-Ass-Halfbreed'. You see, the tortoise and the pain-in-the-ass-halfbreed were running a race, and the pain-in-the-ass-halfbreed kept toying with the tortoise, running out in front of him, trying to taunt him. But right at the end -- jeez, Balthazar, this is my favorite part—the tortoise bit straight through the pain-in-the-ass-halfbreed's calf muscle and dragged him to the ground where the tortoise devoured him alive. Disturbing? Yes, but it's the story that's stuck with me nonetheless."
"Oh, so now you're do scary little speeches. How adorable, John."
Enough of this bullshit. I push him away and start down the stairs, leaving him unnerving warning behind me.
"Don't worry, he's not dead, John, at least not yet."
There he is, lying on the ground, blood smeared across his face, unconscious. He was sitting in the car? Hey, where the hell is the car?
Oh, this is going to be a great story.
Chas
"What was I supposed to do, John, huh? What was I supposed to do?"
"Well, you could have tried to stay in the car and not get yourself almost killed."
"It's not as if extricated myself from the car, John, I was forcefully removed by a very large man with a very large knife, okay."
"You're just lucky they found my car, kid."
His car. His car? What the fuck! "I had just gotten stabbed and you were more worried about getting your shitheap back?"
John snorts and wrings out the washcloth he's been using to clean up the wound on my neck.
"Don't be so dramatic. You didn't get stabbed. It's just a cut."
"A big motherfucking cut, John. Another inch over and he could've gotten my throat!"
John sighs and stands up, making his way towards the refridgerator. "Want something to eat? I think I've got some leftover Chinese or something."
"Don't you have anything else to say?" I ask indignantly, jumping up on from my seat on kitchen counter.
"Like what?" he asks distractedly, smelling the carton of leftovers and then wincing.
"Like, I don't know, maybe, 'Gee, Chas, so glad you're alive. I was so worried when I saw you lying unconscious on the ground'. You know, something along those lines."
John starts chuckling as he throws the carton into the trash. Personally, I don't find a near death experience very funny.
The shit eating grin slides off of his face and he stares at me. "Oh, you were serious."
"Yes, I'm fucking serious, you asshole. A little compassion would be nice."
"It was your own fault," he replies sharply, pointing his finger in my direction. "You told a man with a knife to pick on somebody with balls. What were you expecting to happen? You're lucky he didn't cut off your balls."
"I was just trying to be helpful."
"Helpful would have been staying in the car and waiting for me."
"I'm sick of staying in the car, John, I'm sick of it! I want to help you, man, I want to be useful. I want to go up there with you."
"You're obviously not ready for that."
"Why not? You've never seen me in action!"
"In action? Chas, you burn toast! You're always starting things on fire, you're constantly running into walls and tripping over yourself! You want me to give you dangerous weapons and send you into the room with a demon?"
"Yes!"
John stares at me unbelievingly. "Fat chance. You still have a lot to learn."
"I swear to God, John, if you don't let me help next time-"
"You'll what? Beat me up?"
"Fuck this," I mutter, pushing past him as he digs into a carton of ice cream.
"Where are you going?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
I don't even turn to look at him, because I'm afraid if I do, I'll start crying. I'm not going to let him see me cry. I'll only be proving him right.
I slam the door behind myself and run down the hallway, sure that if I slow down I might start thinking clearly and turn around.
John
He'll be back.
Chas
I'm not going back.
John
He's just bluffing.
Chas
It's pretty cold out here and I forgot my coat. Maybe I should go back…
John
Does he think I'm coming after him? Because I'm not going after him. He's a big boy, he can handle himself.
Chas
I'm sitting on the bench in the park across from the bowling alley and I'm freezing my ass off. Maybe I should go back…
John
Fuck. I can't believe I'm going after him.
Chas
"Well, young man, you're certainly out late.
A smiling man in a pinstriped suit sits down next to me on the bench. I scoot away and I remember what my mother told me. Don't you dare talk to strangers, Chazy, they'll rape you and then slit your throat. All of them! They're all out to get you.
Alright, so maybe I'm not as paranoid as my mother, but still.
"Did you get into a bit of an argument with Johnny Boy?"
Oh, God, I know who this is. It's that halfbreed Balthazar that John's always bitching about! I've seen him before, flipping a coin in John's face as he came out of an exorcism a few weeks before.
"No need to run off, young man. Chas is it? I'm not going to hurt you. I'm an old friend of John's. He told me all about you."
"He did, did he?"
I've got to get out of here. This guy is dangerous and I don't want to nearly die again. This time it might not be nearly, however.
"Oh, yes, of course. I know all about you. I know all about what you want. What you want but you can't have."
That familiar feeling of dread returns and I have the urge to run away as fast as I can, but Balthazar reminds me of a documentary I saw on the Discovery Channel. Make any sudden moves and he'll attack.
"I know what you want, Chas. What if I told you I could give it to you?"
"I think I should go," I tell him, standing. He pulls me back down; his hand is a cold as ice.
"I've got something for you first, Chas. Here, take it. I won't bite, I swear."
He pulls a long chain out of his pocket with a green stone hanging from the bottom he puts it into my palm and closes my hand around it. I'm ready to run off into the woods and hide, but his hands are snapping my neck around and I'm whimpering in fear.
I disgust myself sometimes.
He wraps his fingers around a curl in my hair whispers in a sharp voice, "You can have what you want, Chas, you can be with him and you won't have to be afraid."
His hands are off of me and I've been pushed off the bench into the cold, wet grass. I can hear grunting sounds and when I look around, John is on top of the man, yelling incoherently and hitting him with all of his might.
"I warned you, Balthazar," he hisses. I can hear the snap of a bone and manical laughter.
"I don't believe I'm breaking the balance, Johnny Boy, kill me and there will be hell to pay."
I can hear John's aggravated breathing as he seems to contemplate what to do. He stands and kicks Balthazar in the side with all of his energy, before pulling me up and guiding me back home.
"Interesting guy," I mutter, still shaking.
He just looks at me, not saying a word.
When we walk into the apartment, John stalks straight into his room and slams the door shut. So we're just going to pretend nothing happened? Alright, I fine, I can be cold like him. I can be an inconsiderate bastard, too.
I pull off my jacket and the green stone that Balthazar gave me falls onto the floor. I remember what he said, that I could have what I wanted and I wouldn't have to be afraid. Well, fine, here' what I want. I want to be the best fucking demon hunter the world has seen, that's what I want.
That might just be the stupidest thing I've ever said. I wrap my hand around the stone so hard that I can feel it digging into my skin, leaving indentures in my flesh and then I throw it across the room. It slides under the couch and that's where it will stay.
What I want? Ha.
Double ha.