Slither

Notes: For Neith and LadyCastiel, for the kind reviews of my other fics. ^^ Thanks!

SLITHER

Chapter 1, In which the demon Balthazar rethinks his place in the scheme of things.

Resurrections were surprisingly painful. One would think that something akin to a rebirth would be some wonderful, shining experience – even for a demon. It wasn't, though. It felt like his entire body was made of paper and had been scrunched up into a ball, then flattened out again with no great finesse.

Being wrung unceremoniously back into the human world and wishing fervently to crumble back into dust and die again for the first few minutes, Balthazar was not pleased. He waded out of the Los Angeles river and knelt down on the bank in the darkness, breathing heavily and feeling like one giant bruise. There was not a single part of him that didn't ache, burn or sting, but it was worth it. Definitely worth it. The lights of the city were glowing like a swarm of fireflies in the thick, comforting darkness. The scents and sounds of humans drifted over him and he closed his eyes, drinking it in. All that emotion, both wicked and pure, all swirling together on this plane like a huge melting-pot of sensation. So much more full, vibrant, alive than Hell would ever be. Balthazar loved it.

What he didn't love was having been sent back to Hell in the first place. John Constantine may have shot him, but he should have survived. Mammon and Gabriel and all those plotting fools were supposed to help him after he'd done his part. He didn't know why he suddenly expected any of them to keep their word, but it didn't matter. He was tired of being used, it was no fun at all. The only thing he really wanted to do was live among the humans, peddle a little bad influence here and there, indulge in all that fun the humans got to have and, most of all, irritate John Constantine. There was nothing better than that, those dark eyes flashing with annoyance just sent shivers through him. Delicious.

Finally able to stand up properly, Balthazar turned towards the water and upped his body heat a little, letting the hell-fire burning inside him dry off his expensive suit. It was a little wrinkled, but otherwise still salvageable, thankfully. His tail refused to cooperate though, twitching angrily behind him as he stared thoughtfully into the darkness.

Hell. Everything he did, he seemed to do for Hell. That was the essence of being a demon, after all. He was only half demon, though, and therefore his frustration at continually being used as some low-level pawn in Lucifer's games rose as usual, making the fire inside him burn a little brighter with rage. He was better than that. He was strong, smart and, with his heritage, had only one foot planted in the fires of hell. The other was firmly here in the human world, and when he thought of home it struck him as odd that this place sprang up in his mind first, before the rusted wastelands of Lucifer's playground. He had everything he could want here, and the temptation to stay permanently had been flittering about on the edges of his mind for a very long time.

The last straw had been being used so pathetically by Mammon and Gabriel. He was already in Lucifer's bad books over that, why not go all the way and step out of Hell altogether? Let the other demons do their thing, and he could stay up here with the humans, enjoying himself. Among them he was strong, he had power. Down there he was pretty much Lucifer's bitch, and the choice was not a hard one to make.

From now on, Balthazar decided, he was on his own. With a defiant flick of his tail, he wrapped it around his waist beneath his shirt and headed off for the city, ever so quietly forfeiting his place in Hell's hierarchy.

XxXxX

Constantine hated the nicotine gum. It tasted horrible and his cravings for a cigarette pounced on him so often that he was going through more packs than should have been healthy. After Chas had died he'd moped about, angry at himself for allowing the kid anywhere near a scene like that. He couldn't have stopped them without him, though, and he hoped Chas knew he'd probably helped save the world. He'd seen the flurry of wings and the grin on the kid's face as he picked the lighter off his grave, vanishing upwards with the keepsake, so at least he'd gotten past the pearly gates. It was hard to imagine someone as sweet as Chas ending up in Hell, and seeing that he'd gotten his wings and was probably watching over him right now made Constantine feel a little better. He still felt empty though, after all that. He'd lost most of his friends and even his most infuriating enemy, the business-suited demon Balthazar. The only person who called was Angela, back on the job and recovering well. He understood vaguely that she wanted him, but he wasn't really interested. He felt too lost and direction-less after having been given this new lease on life to pursue anything with her. He didn't really think he'd enjoy it, not at the moment, so he kept her at arm's length.

The truth was, he thought as he sat at the table cradling his scotch, the adrenaline of the fight had worn off and now he was here, alone and probably going to live for quite a long time, unless the job killed him. He wasn't sure what to make of that, and coming to a decision was put off indefinitely by the knocking coming from his front door. He almost hoped it was a demon.

XxXxX

Balthazar hadn't been quite sure where to go. Probably a hotel room or something, that would be a good start. Cutting his ties with Hell also meant that he couldn't go back to his regular haunts, which was inconvenient but necessary. Yes, a hotel would do nicely for now.

He never actually made it to one, though. Clawed hands had reached out and grabbed him, still weakened from his resurrection. They'd yanked him around a corner in the darkness and he'd been slammed against a wall, letting out a puff of air and growling in annoyance at having the single suit he now owned rumpled.

“Baaalthazaaar...” They were hissing at him, five that he could see and a few more lurking back in the deeper shadows, human guises doing nothing to hide their true forms from him.

“This had best be important.” He hissed at them, standing straight and looking as imposing as he could. It usually worked, but not tonight.

“You don't get to just leave, Balthazaaar...” They told him, all rasping the same words, claws clicking through human skin and hollow eyes fixed on him. He glared coldly at them, trying to figure out how many were back there, waiting to rush forward the instant he made a move. He wasn't quite in tune with this world yet and it made his movements and timing off. Not enough for the average human to notice – to them he was still the handsome, elegant businessman. To these demons, though, he was prey.

“I just did.” Balthazar smirked anyway, and pounced.

XxXxX

“What the fuck?” John Constantine scowled as he opened his door and found none other than Balthazar standing there, supporting himself with one hand against the charmed doorframe and looking up at the exorcist through his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Happy to see me, Johnny-boy?” The demon purred, lips forming the usual seductive smirk as his eyes glowed for an instant.

“You're supposed to be dead. I deported your sorry arse right back where you belong. I can do it again, you fucking half-breed.” John said almost casually, the words bordering on a formality by now.

“I came back, and I don't so much belong to Hell anymore, Johnny-boy.” The demon purred, standing straight and looking up at Constantine, still with that infuriatingly attractive little smile on his perfect lips. John sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache began to set in.

“Alright Balthazar. What the fuck did you do and what the fuck do you want?” He demanded, glaring down at the smaller man, who tilted his head to the side in an almost innocent action.

“Are you going to let me in?” Balthazar asked in his sultry voice, trying his best to charm his way inside. He enjoyed the irony that Constantine's apartment was now probably the only place in the city he could be safe.

“Why the hell would I do that?” John ground out, about to slam the door in the demon's face when he noticed the slight tightness at the corners of Balthazar's eyes. Upon further inspection the demon's elegant fingers were trembling slightly where they rested casually at his sides, the smirk on the smooth lips of the creature looking almost forced.

“Oh, for fuck's sake...” Constantine muttered, holding the door open for Balthazar to pass through, momentarily taking down the wards that he'd put up against exactly this situation.

“Why thank you.” Balthazar purred, stepping forward and taking his first proper look at Constantine's sparse living space. “Nice place.”

“Sit the fuck down and start talking or I'm deporting you.” Constantine replied, stalking back to his chair where his scotch waited patiently for him. Once settled he watched Balthazar closely, noting the slight stiffness to his movements as he took a seat opposite his enemy.

“I forfeited my place in Hell. I hate that place, does that surprise you? I want to stay in this world. They won't have it, though. I think I may now be Lucifer's second most wanted person on this plane.” Balthazar explained, eyes burning again. Constantine took it in, noting the anger in the usually calm eyes behind those long lashes and the now forced smoothness about the demon.

“I figured you might, someday. Never thought I'd see it, though. So what do you expect me to do, help? I don't give a shit what you do when you're not being a murderous little bastard.” Constantine pointed out, draining his scotch.

“I thought I might offer you my services.” The demon said, hissing the last word like a snake. Constantine raised an eyebrow, not wholly unwelcome images passing through his mind before he stood up to fetch another scotch.

“Doing what, exactly? You'd be a fucking awful maid.” The exorcist muttered, taking his place again and sliding a glass of scotch across the table to the demon, who took it with a smirk.

“I agree. I thought I might help get rid of a few of them. They aren't going to leave me alone, not now.” Balthazar said, flicking his forked tongue out to taste the scotch. Constantine watched this, disturbingly entranced by that tongue for a moment until he snapped himself out of it with a frown.

“I don't need a fucking partner, especially one as trustworthy as you.” He claimed with a sneer. Balthazar placed the glass down after swiftly draining its contents, his smouldering eyes burning into the exorcist.

“Then at least tell me how to hide. I know you have the contacts and I can't go to Midnite. His neutrality only extends to each race attacking another. If demons want to kill another demon I doubt he'd bat an eye.” Balthazar hissed, hating asking for help but knowing that the moment he stepped outside that door they would find him and torture him to death in the most painful ways Lucifer could come up with.

Constantine stared calculatingly at Balthazar for a long moment, trying to read him. He obviously had some injuries, though what and where they were was being carefully concealed. It had long been a suspicion of Constantine's that Balthazar might go native one day – he enjoyed himself among the humans far too much. It happened, occasionally, and when they were lower level creatures they slipped through the cracks without anyone caring – demons and angels alike. With a higher level half-breed like Balthazar though, he wouldn't be allowed to just walk away. Clearly he'd already been attacked at least once and though he was safe within the apartment, if he left he'd be easy prey. If he tried anything Constantine could easily deport him, and Lucifer could have his wicked way with him all he wanted. Still, so far he hadn't done anything but ask for help, however roundabout his 'asking' had been.

“Look, you can stay here the night while I figure out what the hell to do, but if you so much as make a sudden move you're gonna wish Lu had caught you first.” Constantine threatened, watching the way Balthazar's tense shoulders sagged a little in relief and he gave his trademark smirk again, easier this time.

“Scout's honour, I'll be good.” The demon promised, standing to fetch himself another scotch because it was remarkably good at dulling the aching throb of the bruises he'd collected earlier. The scotch bottle was resting on the counter next to the oven and Balthazar stared thoughtfully at it for a moment, contemplating.

“What?” Constantine demanded, watching the demon pour his scotch and then take to rummaging through the cupboards above the counter. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hungry? Even Lucifer likes my cooking.” Balthazar claimed, gathering ingredients together. Constantine shook himself, barely able to believe that his mortal enemy was offering to cook him dinner. The fact that Balthazar knew how to cook at all was strange and slightly ridiculous, but it didn't stop him watching over his glass as the demon rolled his shirtsleeves up and set about cooking pasta.

He'd seen some pretty odd things in his life, but the demon Balthazar cooking him pasta had to be right up there in the top three. He could only imagine how the rest of the night might go.

TBC