Me: I need to get these one shots in my drafts done...

Also me: Instead of finishing those I'm gonna make something brand new with my pal flarrow444 !!!

So, this lil bit is about my oc Deserey "Dez" and John Constantine! It fast forwards a bit in the Sandstorm story line. Or maybe it's not even canon with SS. You'll never know, will you?  Bahahaha!!

So Johnny is mourning his lover Dez. (Yes, I know. My oc is Dez too. Confusing but whatcha gonna do? 🤷🏻)  Deserey is also in mourning! Because her bestie Lenny is dead. And if y'all are reading SS you know why that's especially bad for her. For those of you who don't... Well you gonna find out!

Angst and suicidal thoughts! (Whoops I just gave it away haha)  Yay! (Not really.)  Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And maybe cry...But mostly enjoy!

Once upon a time on a very timey wimey spaceship, a small group of goofballs were chilling out and...well, being dumb dumbs.

Though it wasn't as uncommon as it sounds. It was actually very normal for the team to act like dumb dumbs….except for the one known as John Constantine. He was an angsty baby boy.

Not his words, of course. And yet, he still wasn't what people considered a genius. He was just hiding away from a demon, helping the Legends deal with the monsters they had unleashed upon the world, ignoring his own thoughts and feelings… Or trying to, anyway. He wasn't doing a very good job if the several empty bottles ahead of him were any indication.

No one bothered him about it, though. It wasn't like he was the only one on the team leaving bottles behind wherever he went… Actually, there was one person who kept pestering him. A gal called Deserey Dunet.

Nicknamed Dez. Which John was really starting to hate. Because that was the name of his...Nope. He wasn't going to think about him. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But Dez didn't exactly give him a choice, as she waltzed into the parlour all cheery and happy. Just like he had been before…

John shoved another mouth full of liquor down his throat, hoping to drown the thoughts out.

”Hiya, depressing!” Dez, nope, he couldn't think of her like that, Deserey said.

“What do you want?” John hissed in annoyance.

”To not watch you kill yourself with that liquor. Jesus, though.”

That wasn't a bad idea…John took another swig, but he knew it wouldn't kill him. He wasn't that lucky.

“Jesus is gone, luv,” he told her bitterly.

”Depressing…” she muttered again.

“What's your point?” he asked, glaring at her harshly.

”I don't really know,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes, taking yet another swig. Why did she always show up? Why did she always have to grin that way? Why did she have to share his bloody name?

”I wish Lenny were here,” she muttered to herself, forcing herself not to cry. It was hard though, a battle that she wasn't sure could ever be won.

But she forced the smile back on her face because someone needed her.

“There's no point in missing the dead, luv,” John said. He stared at the bottle as he drank the last drop. Time for a new one…

“No!” Deserey said, sending some sand from her belt into the bottles lined up on the counter. “You won’t die! Not on my watch”

It would be what Len wanted her to do. This was the least she could do to honor his memory. He had stopped her from killing herself so many times...she had to do the same for someone else. Even if they didn't want the help. Because he had helped her, even though she didn’t want it. She hadn’t wanted it. All she wanted was to perish, but she was still here, wasn’t she?

John shot her an annoyed look, and Deserey found it a little uncanny how familiar it was to her. It was strange, though, being on the receiving end of it.

Now she knew how Len felt. Well, had, anyway.

John waved his hand, magically removing the sand from the booze. He stood up, snatching a bottle from the shelf, giving Deserey another annoyed glance, as he took a swig.

Deserey sighed. If you couldn’t beat them, join them, right?

She sighed, stepping up to grab her own. At this point, who cared what happened to her? Len certainly didn’t.

She used the alcohol to wash down the lump in her throat, smiling bitterly when she saw John glance at her.

“The fuck you looking at?” she glared, anger suddenly filling her veins. But one look at Len’s face in her mind sent it right back down.

John shrugged, going back to his own drink. Soon, Deserey was so drunk she couldn’t think straight, yet both had their loved ones on their mind.

“I’m done,” Deserey mumbled, standing up before wobbling slightly. “Fuck this shit, I’m out.”

For a minute, John didn’t register what she’d said, but when he did, some part of his sober brain thought he should follow her.

So, he did.

She had decided to run off to the Medbay, where she was currently glancing at a bottle of pills, a bittersweet smile on her face.

“We meet again,” she whispered, popping the lid. She couldn’t help but think of the last time, of when Len had saved her.

That was all the encouragement she needed. She took a look inside, making sure there were enough that she wouldn’t survive this time before glancing back at John, who looked shell shocked.

“Welcome to my world, luv,” Deserey told him, rolling her eyes as she put the bottle to her lips. “Maybe you’ll see me in Hell.”

That’s when John apparently seemed to get sober. He rushed over to her, barely knocking the bottle away in time.

“What the bloody hell are you thinking?” he managed to gasp, anger in his movements.

“I was thinking I wanted to go to Hell,” Deserey replied with a roll of her eyes. Even that simple movement reminded her of Len, and she cringed, fighting the urge to curl into a ball.

“That’s not a place you wanna go, luv,” John told her darkly.

”Why the hell not?” Deserey replied, and it was a pun and she couldn't handle it anymore!

Everything reminded her of him. Puns, Family Guy, drawing, tears, pills, medicine. Anything and everything, and every time it hurt even worse. She didn’t understand how it could hurt so bad, or even why he had to go. Why he couldn’t have just stayed, keeping her safe with his entire being.

She couldn’t help it anymore. She fell, curling into a ball and just crying, silently begging for him to come back because she needed him. And he wasn’t there anymore, and she couldn’t live with that fact.

John stood awkwardly at the corner, giving the pills a once over.

“If I can’t, then you don’t,” Deserey hissed angrily from her ball, anger taking over her veins. It was so much easier to be mad, to hate everything than to feel this crushing sadness that didn’t feel like it would ever go away.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, wiping at her eyes and sitting up. “Or maybe I’m not. At this point, I don’t even care.”

John stared back at her silently. He didn't dare say anything. Not now.

Not when everything that had just happened reminded him of his boyfriend. Of his sad days, on those days where Dez had to fight through everything just to get up. And definitely not when he wanted to fall apart himself.

Because...damn he really missed him…

“I don’t know what happened to you, and I don’t even care anymore, but I hope it gets better,” Deserey whispered. “I know what it’s like to lose someone, to blame yourself for it. I see it in your eyes, in the way you always count that everyone’s there when you enter a room. I do that same thing.”

Then she laughed, the pain and hurt and every emotion breaking away to numbness. That calm, peaceful numbness.

“I know what it’s like to feel worthless, to think your a waste of space. I know what it’s like to just hope it’s better in Hell because nothing, absolutely nothing, could be worse than this.”

Deserey sighed. This whole thing was bringing up things she couldn’t, wouldn’t talk about. Not yet. Not when it was still so fresh.

“I'm not broken like the rest of you lot,” John said, denying everything. Because that was always easier, wasn't it? Better to ignore the wretched feelings than to face them. They couldn't hurt much that way.

“Then why were you staring at the bottle? Why were you trying to drown in alcohol? Don’t lie to me, John, ‘cause you’re just lying to yourself.”

“You wouldn't be able to handle the truth,” John told her. “There's a reason I'm always saying I walk this path alone.”

“Try me,” she challenged.

He shot her another annoyed look. She was clearly not going to let this go, despite him obviously not wanting to talk about it. Then again, he was just as curious about her story, so maybe storytelling was a good idea. As long as it remained plural.

“How about this, then, luv? You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine,” John said, using his magic to summon another bottle from the parlour.

Deserey flinched, pain flashing in her eyes before she schooled them. She gulped, taking deep breaths. So it was recent. Then again, all loses hurt. Time didn’t do shit, and screw the people who said otherwise. It always hurt, from the moment you lost them to the moment you die yourself.

“No, thanks,” she whispered.

“Then no storytime from me, either,” John shrugged, not really caring either way. He was curious, of course, but he wasn’t exactly eager to share himself.

“Fine,” she whispered, her voice so close to breaking. “You start. I don’t trust you.”

“You’re learning.”

She folded her arms, sitting back against the wall defiantly, waiting for him to start. So, he figured he really didn't have a choice now.

“I killed a kid,” he told her. It wasn't exactly a lie. He had once sentenced a little girl to Hell, just like he'd sent his boyfriend to Hell. (Boyfriend...still weird to think about…) It just wasn't the entire story. He had taken time to grieve her, though, unlike Dez, so it was a little easier to talk about. That's why he only told Deserey about the little girl. “Her name was Astra. I sent her to Hell… And myself once. Only for a few minutes, sure… But still.”

He knew she could see through it, that he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she didn’t comment on it, knowing it was hard to talk about. “I watched the only person that cared about me die,” she said when he had finished.

She didn’t elaborate, didn’t mention anything else, just gazed toward the chair in the middle of the room and squeezed her eyes closed, like she was seeing something that wasn't there. A nightmare while she was wide awake. John wondered what she saw.

Deserey took a deep breath, then another before she was panting wildly, her eyes flashing open. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, tears streaming down her cheeks once again.

When she realized it was John in front of her, she relaxed, but she was still on edge. He recognized the expression. (He had seen it enough, anyway) It was a look he saw on his friends’ (or the ones that he once had) face, on Sara’s, on Oliver Queen's, on Mick’s. He had even seen it on his own face a time or two. It was the look of a killer… Or at least a killer with a conscience.

So the girl had killed. Interesting.

“If those bastards weren’t already dead, I’d kill them myself,” she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse. She didn’t care about her soul anymore, didn’t care about the monsters who had killed him.

They could rot in Hell right next to her.

“How would he feel?” she wondered aloud, glancing at John. “If he saw me, how would he feel? He’d probably murder me,” she laughed, tears entering her eyes once again. “He said if he ever caught me trying to take my life again, he’d revive me just so he could kill me himself.”

She laughed again quietly, though it was a broken sound, a hollow one. It shook her very being.

“Ooh, ooh, a fuckup just for kicks, yeah,” she whispered to herself. “Got this feeling since we became time travelers.”

It was a remix to a song called Feeling it Still that she and Len had made together during a mission to 1986. He had loved the pun. She’d loved his reaction. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but it didn’t have to.

She was so lost in her own world that she’d forgotten that John was even there. John stared at her, watching curiously. It was easier to forget about his own feelings, his own problems, when he was trying to figure someone else out. Not that he'd ever let her, or any of the other Legends get too close to him. They'd only get burned. Just like everyone else who tried to stand next to him did. Chaz, Zed, Dez, Astra… All of them were either dead or hurt because of him.

Now there was another Dez to add to that list. So, it was best that he just leave. Before everyone on this ship got hurt. Before they were killed.

John silently slipped out of the room while Deserey was still wrapped up in her own little world. She couldn't stop him if she was still stuck in her own issues.

Deserey’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a door closing and she looked around, realizing John was gone. She stood up, knowing just by instinct alone that something was wrong.

She opened the door and bolted out, wiping away her tears in case someone else was near. She finally found him about to board the jump ship looking like he was about to cry.

“You know, if you have to go, then go. I get it. Oh, believe me, I get it. Just… just don’t let your guard down, or trust anybody, or some other shit I’m supposed to be telling you,” Deserey told him, shrugging. She wasn’t good at this shit.

He glanced back at her for a moment. She was just standing there, looking completely hollowed out, like just being near him was enough to drain all her energy. And that's how he knew he was making the right decision. In a matter of seconds he had ruined everything for her, bringing her back to the dark place she had just escaped. If he were to stay he'd only bring her down even further.

“Just don’t go because of me,” she whispered, more to herself, but John could still hear it. “I can’t have someone else leave because of me.”

Then she was turning and running away, her head in her hands. It was so hard to deal with this, to miss Len every second of every day and know he would never wake her up for an early breakfast because it was “good training,” or never sit with him and laugh at Family Guy reruns as Mick muttered something in the corner, or just smile at him because she was so happy that someone understood the pain she’d had to endure her whole life.

That was what made John falter. It was partially true, after all. He was leaving because he’d be terrible for her recovery, but that was just a guess. He could be the feeling piece that healed her, he could be there and just listen. Maybe running away wasn’t the best thing, especially when he had people relying on him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe he was selfish for wanting to stay…

But he had to try. He couldn’t run from everything.

“Ah...bullocks,” he complained to himself, turning around and following Deserey. Why? Well, maybe he was just bloody stupid…

She was in the bathroom, locked away like Rapunzel. Except he was pretty sure the blonde didn’t send blood down the tower…

“Let me in, luv,” John commanded her, pounding on the door.

“John? I thought you left…”

She sounded both relieved and disappointed, the latter probably because he was going to stop her second suicide attempt.

“Turns out I'm an idiot, so I'm not going anywhere,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “Now, why don't you open this door for us, yeah?”

“You’re not an idiot,” she said, ignoring the second part. “You’re the only normal one here.”

He laughed bitterly at that. “Oh, no I ain’t,” John told her. “I’m a dweeb.”

She didn’t argue, which was honestly more worrying than not. “Luv? Open the door now, please.”

She didn’t answer. He was pretty sure he heard a thump land on the floor.

Panic quickly made its way throughout his body. A small pool of blood leaked through the crack at the bottom of the door. He felt his heart sink. Damn. He had already killed her...

“John? What are you doing?” Sara asked, walking up. When she saw the blood seeping out from underneath the door, though, he was pretty sure she knew.

“Goddamnit,” she muttered, pulling on the handle. “Deserey, sweetie, open up!”

John shook his head. “Already unconscious.”

“Well, guess we’ll have to change that. Gideon, get Mick. He’ll be able to help me carry her to the Medbay.”

Gideon didn’t answer, already on her mission. She knew how serious this was.

“You used to this?” John asked, noticing her calm expression.

“Nope,” Sara admitted without shame. “I just have a very strong mask. This shit isn’t something you get used to.”

He nodded slowly, not really understanding. Somehow, he had convinced himself he was use to it. Or maybe he had just never really known what it was like to actually have someone care… Not without him ruining their lives, anyway. (That tender to scare people off.)

After all, look what happened to both Dezs. He shook his head, sighing heavily. Well, he might as well make himself useful. John flicked his hand through the air, magically opening the door and mentally preparing himself for the sight that lay beyond it.

Nothing could have prepared him, though.

A few minutes ago, or what seemed like hours ago now, Deserey had been standing with tears streamed eyes, but she was fully intact.

She wasn’t anymore.

She lay on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, her mouth open in a silent scream. Tears seemed to be mixed in with the blood as they fell down her cheeks. Why were they still moving?

Then Deserey blinked at him, her mouth moving slightly.

“Don’t… Just let me die…” she gasped before her eyes shut again.

He stood there, shocked for a moment, before jumping into action. He didn’t give a shit about her words. She was not going to join his list of victims. Not today.

And hopefully not tomorrow…

But those thoughts were for another time. Sara ran in behind him, seeing as it was a gigantic bathroom. Mick soon came in too, and he and Sara picked up Deserey, who was as limp as a rag doll.

That was not a good comparison.

John tried his best to shrug that thought away. He couldn't think that way. Not now. They had to save her! They had to! He used what little light magic he understood, hoping it would give Deserey at least a few more minutes to spare. Just long enough for Mick and Sara to get her to the Medbay…

“Please save her,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Gideon? Sara? Himself? “She doesn’t deserve this. No one does.”

Dudes, I'm sorry for that crazy AN at the beginning. I don't know what that was. Pretty sure I'm crazy.

But I hope you enjoyed this little one shot that may or may not be a sneak peak for Sandstorm...

It was fun to write. Angsty characters help me work through my own crap so...

Thanks to flarrow444 for helping me write, because I am once again too lazy to do my own work 😂