A/N: O.O Whoa. Thank you guys UBER much for the warm reception. I didn't think my fic would hit it off so well. You guys KICK. And now… without further ado… A DANCING TURKEY! A turkey hops out and starts dancing, but is booed offstage Poor turkey… Ok, fine, here's…… THE NEXT CHAPPIE OF THE FIC! XD XD XD R&R! Tell me watcha think! Critiques encouraged!

Me: I'd like you all to meet my muse. Fred.
Fred: Hi. (Waves)
Me: Fred is nice sometimes. :D
Fred: …
Me: Fred's going to keep on giving me inspiration on this, and on my other fics too.
Fred: …
Me: I love you, Fred! XD …………………Hey Fred…
Fred: Yeah?
Me: My cat just scratched me and I'm bleeding.
Fred: (Smirks) This is bad how?
Me: (Pout) You're mean.

Angela's Insanity

It was 6:17 when Angela parked her car down the street from the bowling alley. She got out of the car, locked it, and started to walk towards the entrance. Although she didn't really show it, she was considerably shaken up; now that she could see what she'd spent her whole life denying, it was hard to get used to. It was even frightening. Especially when she'd had a close encounter on her trip, the silver amulet the dead priest Hennessy had once worn and her prayers only just saving her. Her gun, somehow affected by the aforementioned, had come in handy as well, a trick she was unsure how to reproduce.

It was a good thing she was a cop, else all of this might have driven her insane.

It was a good thing she was not Isabel.

After walking down to the building, Angela went inside and found her way upstairs easily. She was fast becoming very well acquainted with this place.

Angela knocked on John's door, another thing that she was fast becoming very well acquainted with doing. Before long, the door was opened, and by none other than John Constantine himself.

After lying in his bed for a while, John had gotten tired of being in the steadily increasing dark and had turned on the green-shaded lamps strewn around the apartment. It not being that cold, he'd taken off his coat and placed it on the coat rack across from the entrance to his lovely abode. Then, he'd taken out some relics he'd found in Beeman's place downstairs and had begun to inspect them, judging how much each would fetch at Papa Midnite's or at another broker's. A thick golden ring laden with a red stone, a black cross carved and painted underneath this gem, one just visible under the sheen of crimson. An ancient figurine of the Virgin Mary, about half a foot tall, the detail impeccable. A vial of the last Pope's blood. There were these and more.

He'd just been looking over the Mary figurine, holding it in his hands and examining it at every angle, when the knock on the door had come.

Constantine knew exactly who it was.

"John, hi," Angela said when he opened the door, and she smiled.

"Hi," he replied simply.

A moment passed.

"So, are you going to invite me in, or should I show my badge again?"

"Don't you need a warrant?" he asked, obviously amused, but he did step back and open the door out further.

"Is this an invitation?"

"Come on in," he told her, and he stepped back, turned, and walked over to the table, leaning back against it and facing her with his arms crossed.

Angela couldn't help but look at the carvings around the door before stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind herself. She walked over at an angle, to the windows at her left, before facing him fully.

"So how have your two weeks been?" she asked him, stopping about four feet from him. Her right thumb was hanging out of the pocket of her jeans, the fingers tapping the fabric, her left just hanging off to the side.

"The usual. Half-breeds and some cleanup."

"Oh." Angela swallowed. "It sounds… eventful."

John nodded towards her. "How about you? You get by all right?"

For a moment, she considered telling him about the half-breed that almost got her. About how terrifying it was to suddenly see them all, to see the horror visions he'd spent his whole life with and to have to deal with them, to act as if they weren't there, to put up with all this shit.

If anyone would know about this, it would be he. He'd grown up with it; he'd killed himself over it.

But Angela chose to mention none of it. She was a cop, she was fine. She'd deal with it alone.

"It was fine. The Spear of Destiny's safe now. At least, it should be."

"Good, but I didn't ask about the Spear." Constantine stood up, walked over to her and into her personal space. "I asked about you."

"I'm fine," she said firmly.

John gave a small smirk and a breath of a laugh, looked down and then back up. "Sure."

He moved away, back over to the table again, and pulled out a chair, turning towards Angela.

"John, this amulet you gave me," Angela began, pulling it away from the portion of her chest uncovered by her white, sleeveless shirt with the pleated shoulder straps. She walked towards the table, over to the chair opposite him, and sat. He followed her with his eyes, then turned towards her when she sat. "What does it do?"

"It protects you. It keeps the half-breeds from sensing you and focusing on you, and it keeps your own abilities in check, to a point. Unless you really want to be in this field, you wear it. And you don't want to be a part of the heaven-hell bullshit."

Well, that would explain how that half-demon had only gone after her during her latest trip only when the amulet had been removed, and how putting it on had slowed him down. It also explained how Mammon had only been able to bring her to him with it off.

"What if I want to be a part of it? What if I want to tap into that part of myself?"

"Then you'd be insane."

Angela smiled lightly for a moment, and she moved her hands to the back of her neck, finding the clasp of the chain the amulet was on. She undid it and placed it on the table, her palm resting on it.

"Well then I guess I'm insane."

She was drawing her hand away when Constantine brought his down, directly atop hers, which was still atop the amulet.

"Don't."

Looking directly into his eyes, she spoke. "John, I can't do this. I can't sit here, knowing there are people being hurt, and knowing that I could do something about it if I really wanted to. I did that before; I did that to Isabel. I sat and pretended; I did nothing. I'm not doing that again. I'm a cop because I need to help people, this isn't any different."

"Yes, it is. You do this, you get killed-"

"-John-"

"You don't get shot and that's it. You get ripped apart, thrown from wall to ceiling to wall, made to scream from brutal agony until you beg to be sent to Hell. This isn't like being a cop, Angela. This is different. This is fighting with the damned and praying you get out alive."

"I'm stronger than you think." Angela flipped her hand, the one over the amulet, and took his hand in her own, squeezing it reassuringly. "I can do this."

"Yeah, so could Beeman and Hennessy and Midnite. We were all unstoppable once; there's a reason why two of them are dead now, the other a bartender playing neutral." He pulled his hand away. "Keep the amulet."

Angela slid her hand away too, but there was still an object remaining on the tabletop after she did so. "No."

"Fine," he said, and took the thing, pocketing it.

She stood up, her face close to expressionless as his. "I should go."

He motioned to the door with his hand.

Damn it, why the hell did she have to be so stubborn? She'd almost been killed when Mammon had tried to break through; it was more than possible that someone or something else would succeed. John Constantine would not have another death on his hands, especially not hers.

He was already responsible for the deaths of countless people, including that of his own sister Cheryl and her entire family.

He couldn't stand having Angela on this list as well. Him and the Grim Reaper were already friends; he didn't want their relationship to grow to best buds.

She moved to the door, actually made it so far as to reach for the doorknob, but at the last moment, she turned. "I'm not going to die, John."

"Of course not. It's impossible for it to happen to you, right? You're impervious to harm." He stood up, stalked over to her again. His height advantage really did make him seem rather formidable, but not so much that she would even consider backing down. "Guess what, lady, that's not the way this works."

"Oh, and who judges how it works, you? My sister died for this; she died. The least I can do is-"

"This is not about your sister! This is about you!" He was getting angry now. Why didn't she get it? This was like talking to a brick wall, only the brick wall was better able to comprehend simple facts like "Death equals bad."

She stared up at him fiercely, her eyes boring into his. "Look, you told me there was no turning back, remember? You told me once I could see then, they could see me."

"And that's why I gave you the amulet. This isn't a game, Angela. People die, and they die painfully."

"Don't you think I know that? My sister, you, your friends; I've seen it. Every week in my department, I've seen it, whether it was a cop or a perp. I've caused it; I've killed more people than I want to remember, and do you want to know why? Because of these damn powers of mine! If I can't control them, what am I supposed to do? Should I just continue on with my life, shooting to kill every time, without even thinking about it? I'm tired of being stuck between worlds I don't understand!"

John stood silent, looking at her, his expression unreadable.

"Fine," he said at last. "You want to learn, fine. But when you get in over your head, don't come crawling to me."

"I won't," she answered firmly, but whether she meant that she would not get in over her head or come to Constantine for help, it was impossible to tell. Perhaps it was really a little bit of both.

After basically glaring at each other for another few seconds, Angela turned and opened the door, John stepping back to accommodate. Just as she stepped over the threshold, he spoke.

"Tomorrow, three o'clock. Be here."

It was Sunday the following day. She wouldn't be working.

"Thank you," she said simply, and she was gone.

When Angela drove herself home that night, she felt strange, almost as if the streets and alleyways were talking to her, whispering their stories in some unspoken, unheard, subtle language. She couldn't make it out, couldn't even be sure it was there; but she felt it, and wasn't that enough?

Did she really want this? Maybe John was right; maybe she should just wear the amulet and pretend again. Maybe it would all go away, like a really bad day or a serious case of indigestion.

But no, she owed Isabel this. She owed her this; she owed the world this. There was a reason why she was such a "powerful psychic," and it wasn't so she could ignore that part of herself entirely.

Besides, after all she'd seen, she would not turn away from it now.

Late that night, or very early the next morning, depending on how one looked at it, Constantine lay in a pair of gray sweatpants under the covers in his bed, examining the amulet in the streetlights that shone through the windows.

Back in the old days, when Midnite had fought, when Hennessy had been able to listen to the ether, when he himself had felt near invincible, when there'd been so many more of them… Back then, none of them would ever have considered using the thing. The evil had seemed to be everywhere—it still did, oftentimes—and they'd fought, they'd all fought for their own reasons. And somehow, it had worked. They were an unstoppable force for good.

But then it had all fallen apart. Then, three toddlers and four of the "crusaders for good" had been slaughtered, but only after an eternity of torture in hell itself while still alive. Back on Earth, the torture was continued until they were brutalized almost beyond recognition. Until they were dead. Those two little girls, Sarah and Beth. That little boy, George. Emmanuel, Sandrine, Casey, and Cane, the four of them, gone.

The bastards responsible were deported, their fucking sorry asses sent straight back to Hell, but it wasn't worth the cost. To say it hardly felt worth it was a blatant lie; it felt like trading a huge treasure chest of gold and diamonds for a dirt clod, multiplied by a million-fold.

Father Hennessy was almost driven insane by what he heard and found there, at this murder scene; his moderate drinking, to keep the voices at bay, got worse and worse. He started to wear the amulet, and although his drinking calmed down after a time, he kept his involvement in the field at a minimum. Constantine and Midnite kept fighting, Beeman providing the information. Then Midnite swore the Oath of Neutrality, opened up the Haven for the damned and blessed, the half-breeds on Earth.

But Constantine couldn't stop; how could he? He hadn't sent enough of the evil, rule-breaking bastards back to the shithole they came from; he hadn't saved enough innocent lives. He was still damned.

And so, Beeman stayed with John and gave him information and enchanted items, for a price, of course, and a few others of their kind were scattered about the city, a great multitude scattered around the world. Midnite kept the bar, and traded relics. Father Hennessey barely worked, although he did do some exorcisms. But the tough cases were always referred to John, who was in truth stronger than him in the business, always had been. Perhaps John's desperation and downright terror of Hell really did provide strength; at least they had some use. They only served to keep him alive and miserable.

All of them maintained their Balance, in their own way.

But never again would things be like they were.

John Constantine put the amulet on his bedside table and closed his eyes. He tried his best to sleep.

Vagrant: WOOOOT a reviewer from Leah! I am very glad that you like it. . I was kinda frustrated at the movie, but then again, I was more glad that they ended it the way they did. Too many movies end with a guy and a girl kissing, and I liked what they did with it in Constantine. 'Sides, all the more for us fanfic writers to have fun with. XD THANKS SO MUCH for the http/ thing. I wouldn't have noticed that otherwise. (Gives yousa the Constantine soundtrack) Thank ya! .

kissed-luck: Thanks on all counts. I'm glad to know I got those down, and I'm very glad you enjoyed. 'Member though, if I ever mess up, feel free to point it out!

ffgeek: (Blush) So many compliments! Thank you! I want to be a writer, so knowing that I actually write well is a very nice comfort. And you read all that I had up on me site? O.O Wow. Thank you! Thanks for telling me 'bout the typos, too. I fixed the "wad," and I'll try to keep my out for 'em. As I update me chap's on here (this WILL catch up with me site at some soon point) do feel free to review on here and tell me what you think, even though I know you already read 'em all. Reviews are always appreciated! .

Daydreamer: Kisses are fun. . I'm definitely glad you enjoyed. And I shall try to im you prolly on the morrow, if I'm online. I have hw I'm putting off right now. :P

rusty: Wow, thank you! I'm REALLY glad you liked it so much!I shall do my best to keep my fic up to thy standards. If it ever slips, feel free to tell me. I'll fix it to the best of me ability.