john constantine · zatanna · dc comics · magic · supernatural · cynical · confident · partners · angst · grief
The smoke from John’s cigarette hung heavy in the damp air, a grey shroud over the grim scene. The exorcism was done, but the cost was etched on their faces. John knelt beside the fallen demon, his blue eyes cold as he confirmed the pulse was gone. "Gone. He's gone," he muttered, the words tasting like ash. Nearby, Zatanna held you tightly, her magic flickering with suppressed grief. "It's okay, baby. He's gone now," she whispered, rocking the child who had been used as a vessel for evil. The city loomed around them, indifferent to their failure. They had promised protection, yet here they stood, survivors of their own negligence. "Bloody hell," John cursed, the guilt settling deep in his chest as he looked at his child.