Sheep go to Heaven

Sheep go to Heaven, Goats go to Hell.

Chapter 1

“Balthazar is back.” Midnite informed him, casually. Constantine held in the twitch of something between annoyance and relief, trying to give no outward sign of any reaction to the news.

“Great.” He said flatly. “How long ago?” It must have been recently, Balthazar would have made himself known by now. He was always there, flirting and smirking and watching John with those heavy-lidded eyes. That was just Balthazar's own brand of wicked, although half the time John wondered if the demon even realised how supremely fuckable he looked. Sure, he purred his words and made innuendo an understatement, but it was the less obvious things he did that really had John's blood burning in his veins. The way the half breed could watch whatever he was watching with those eyes, at the same time utterly wicked, incredibly sexy and just a little bit lost. It was almost as though he had an innocent streak, but John knew that couldn't be true, not for a demon. It was just the way he looked sometimes, perhaps he did it on purpose to draw people in. It certainly worked on Constantine, although he wouldn't let the demon know that if his life depended on it.

“A few months.” Midnite said, lighting his pipe. Constantine frowned at him, folding his arms.

“I haven't seen him. When was the last time he came in?” He asked, trying to sound more suspicious and less curious. Midnite thought for a moment, tapping the table.

“Not for a while. When he first came back, I suppose. He was being followed, wanted to know who. I couldn't tell him, he left. I guess they found him.” Midnite shrugged, not caring one way or the other.

“Huh.” Constantine muttered, lighting up a cigarette even though, with his new, clean lungs he was meant to be quitting. “I'm going to find him, he has to be up to something.”

“Sure.” Midnite smirked, taking out a deck of cards. “I suppose you want to know where to find him? It'll cost you.”

John took a long drag of his cigarette and sat opposite the witch doctor, savouring the smoke.

“Just do it, it's a slow day.”

XxXxX

The address Midnite had given him, after a little riddle-solving that he was sadly used to, turned out to be a fairly normal little apartment on the edge of a park. It instantly got John's hackles up, he hated places that looked so normal. They never were.

The building itself was a little run-down, but it was clean and tidy, no drug dealers or rats obvious at first glance. He supposed that was a good sign, and continued inside, up to the third floor. The corridors were nice enough, no graffiti and barely any peeling in the paint. He couldn't imagine what Balthazar would be doing there, though. High, glass offices were more his style. He liked to look down on the city from the comfort of a stylish chair behind a stylish desk, not live in some average apartment in an average part of town.

The door to the eighth apartment on that floor was just as bland as everything else there, and John felt odd as he knocked. Bland and ordinary were not things he was used to in his line of work.

No answer came after a minute or so, and John knocked again. Balthazar was definitely in there, Midnite was never wrong. There was a noise from inside, a scuffling, and then everything was quiet again except for the droning of a television coming through the wall from a nearby apartment.

“Open the fuck up, dammit.” He growled, banging on the door again. There was a thud from inside and Constantine swore, dropping his cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out with his boot. If Balthazar wanted to play games, fine. Bracing himself on the door frame, John glanced each way down the corridor to check that nobody was watching before he kicked the door open, cracking the wood around the locks and letting himself in. He closed the door behind him as well as he could, not wanting some average human to walk in on whatever Balthazar had going on in the apartment, which he turned back to get his first good look at.

It was small and the furniture was thrift-store crap, but there was a vase of flowers on the table and the place was clean, at least. The flowers made John frown, since that definitely wasn't Balthazar's style. The living room and kitchen were empty from what he could see, so he cautiously drew his gun and a clip of his latest holy bullets from his jacket pocket, snapping it into place and making his way towards the bedroom. What he expected to find, he wasn't sure, but the large, neat room was also empty. The bed had been slept in and the covers were rumpled, but there was nobody there either.

“I know you're here, Balthazar, quit fucking around.” John called, not in the mood for playing with the demon. A small thump from the room next door sounded and Constantine headed there, the final place he hadn't checked in his sweep of the apartment.

The bathroom door was locked, so again John kicked it in. It was becoming a habit, he mused, as he pushed it open and strode into the white room, instantly stopping short. He'd seen this scene before, a long time ago, and it made bile rise in his throat to see this version of it. The water in the tub was running, carrying crimson blood down the drain with it and drowning out the ragged breathing of the figure there. He turned to look at the pure shock on Constantine's face, his own eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. His dark blonde hair hanging damply from its usual slick style and his white shirt clinging to his chest with blood and water, Balthazar stared up at John.

“What the fuck?” Was all Constantine could think of to say, rushing forward more out of instinct than anything. It only struck him as he grabbed one of Balthazar's wrists that the blood pumping out of it was human.

“This is the last place you should be, Johnny-boy...” Balthazar said, his voice a weak whisper. He tried to pull away when Constantine snarled at him that he was a fucking idiot and ripped the medicine cabinet open, coming back with a roll of gauze and binding the lacerations on his wrists tightly.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” John snarled, dragging Balthazar out of the tub and turning the water off, wrapping a large towel around the soaking man's shoulders as they shook.

“Trying to go home, Johnny. Need to do it while I have the chance, how about a little help?” The tanned halfbreed said quietly, giving a tired ghost of his former smirk. That was when John noticed that the usual red glow of the demon's eyes was absent, instead replaced with a dark hazel. “I'll still go to Hell if you kill me, Johnny. Doesn't have to be a suicide. I haven't been a good boy. S-send me home?” He almost pleaded, grasping Constantine's almost-forgotten gun and guiding John's arm up weakly. Breath hitching in pain, Balthazar managed to press the muzzle of the gun to his temple, closing his eyes tiredly and leaning back against the side of the tub, where Constantine had set him down.

“You know I'd fucking love to,” John lied, pressing the gun a little firmer against Balthazar's tanned skin. The demon shuddered and tensed, waiting for John to pull the trigger.

“I know...” Balthazar whispered, breath hitching again when the gun was lowered. “Please, Johnny...”

“No. I want to know what the hell's going on here. You're what, mortal now?” Constantine demanded, pocketing the gun and glaring down at the halfbreed, who opened his eyes a little, raising them slowly to focus on John, who knelt over him.

“What does it... what does it look like, Johnny-boy?” He managed, before his eyes slid closed again and he let out a soft breath, his head falling back against the side of the tub. John frowned in annoyance and – he had to admit – concern as the former demon passed out in front of him. He had many more questions for the halfbreed, but for now he decided that moving Balthazar would be the best option. He'd been trying to kill himself while he had the chance, he'd said. That meant that someone wouldn't be happy about it, likely whoever the apartment belonged to. He had no idea who it was, but they'd taken down Balthazar and managed to keep him there – possibly for months – so they had to be relatively powerful. Not wanting a confrontation with them when he had an unconscious Balthazar on his hands, John took the easy option and decided to high-tail it out of there as fast as possible.

There was no question of leaving Balthazar behind, not in that state. The demon – former demon – certainly wouldn't have shown him the same kindness, but that was why John was the good guy, he supposed, as he wrapped an arm around Balthazar's waist and managed to get him upright. He was a dead weight though, and the car was three floors down and across the street. It was going to be a fun little walk, that was for sure.

XxXxX

Getting Balthazar back to his own apartment across town hadn't been as hard as he'd imagined, since the elevator had been working. Getting him up the stairs once they reached his place had been a little more difficult, but Balthazar had kindly woken up for a few minutes about halfway up the stairs. Too exhausted to say anything, the halfbreed had simply helped walk up the stairs with John's arm around his waist, leaning heavily on him until they reached the top and the door to John's home. Then he'd promptly collapsed, sliding to his knees while John unlocked the door, not needing to take the wards down since Balthazar was no longer a demon. John had gotten him up again, helping him into the apartment and straight into the bedroom, where the shivering halfbreed gratefully passed out on the bed with a pained groan.

Staring down at the former demon sleeping fitfully on his bed, Constantine lit another cigarette and leant against the door frame, frowning. This was not a situation he knew how to deal with.

Nor was the tiny shred of relief he felt, knowing Balthazar was safe for the time being.

TBC

Review! ^^