Gotta Have Faith

“What happened?” He was drying his hands off on a dishtowel when he heard the quiet question, and he looked down at the furry dog at his feet. The thing disappeared during all the spellwork, but he wandered back in when Lucifer first started doing the dishes.

“My head,” a deeper voice groaned. He stepped closer to the living room and stopped just under the edge of Betty’s bedroom, and two groggy pairs of eyes moved over to him. Mimi just looked a little sleepy and confused, but Tyler looked a little suspicious. Hunters always have that look. Except for Betty.

“Did everything go okay, Lu?” Mimi asked between yawns. He remembers the young angel in his garrison, all innocence and steel, and it looks like she hasn’t changed much since then.

“The spell was powerful, too powerful. You two were unconscious, and Betty is upstairs resting.” He slowly moved his eyes upwards, and he could see Mimi absently nodding her head.

“Why weren’t you knocked out?” Tyler asked as he stood up. Lucifer cocked a brow at the young hunter but didn’t say anything. He doesn’t owe this human anything.

“Because he’s Lucifer, duh. Come on, Ty, and walk me to my car,” Mimi said and started tugging on the hunter’s wrist. Mimi is tall for a human female, but Tyler still towers over her. Lucifer is learning that size means nothing to humans.

“But—”

“Tell Betty to let me know when she’s awake? I’ve already closed the flower shop until next Monday, but I’ll tend to the flowers until she’s ready to come in.” Mimi was almost to the backdoor now, with Tyler standing behind her with a dazed look on his face, and she looked at him through a curtain of blonde hair.

“I’ll tell her.” Mimi called out a goodnight and closed the door behind them, and Lucifer looked around.

Betty’s still asleep and he’s feeling a little tired himself. He’s barely done anything today except for drive and sit, but this weak body of his feels drained. His feet dragged as he walked down the short hallway to his own room, and he stripped his clothes off with practiced ease. His back and chest ached with the small movements, and he glanced down. There was a red mark spreading out from his sternum that looked slightly swollen, and it throbbed dully when he touched it. When Betty pushed him up against the wall, she left a mark of her own. The closest thing he’s ever had to a bruise is when his vessel was crumbling, but that pain was different from this one. A crumbling vessel is a smooth pain, something buried so far under his grace that it can barely be felt at all. This…this is something crude that he can feel with every breath, now that he knows it’s there.

First, the psychic tricks him into saving an insurmountable number of humans because he thought he was passing a test by allowing one single mud monkey to live another few miserable years. Now, she’s left him bruised and marked, after selling her soul to Death. Her soul belonged to him, and she had no right to give it away to that useless horseman. He’s already been robbed of so much; her soul rightfully belongs to him, and he will retrieve it when his grace is returned. The psychic can’t slip away from him that easily. He’ll bind Death himself again if he has to.

The blankets are starting to carry his vessel’s scent, and the sheets quickly warmed up with his body heat. He spread a hand out against his sternum and felt the developing bruise throb hotly at the added pressure, even through the thick blanket and sheet. The bruises will fade. He’ll watch as the mark on his chest grows darker and then fades out, but the anger and resentment he feels won’t. That is only going to grow, until it consumes everything around him. Including the psychic sleeping peacefully upstairs.


The next day dawned too early and bright for Lucifer’s liking, and he cursed Betty for having a house with such large windows and a severe lack of curtains. The pain in his chest felt like it went deeper as he pushed himself into a sitting position, and his back flared with heat as he sat up fully. He pulled his shirt over his head as he moved into the bathroom, and his torso twisted as he strained to see his back in the mirror. Bright red marks that were starting to purple branched out from his spine, and blue eyes narrowed at the marks. His chest was in the same condition, swollen in the shape of a thin forearm and starting to darken.

The hot water from the shower helped with the ache, and he quickly scrubbed down his vessel. Nick might not be crumbling under the power of his grace, but the vessel is still powerless and useless. It’s easy to direct all of his anger at Betty; she’s the one that physically bound him to this form and stole his very essence. She’s the one that tells him when to jump, but the psychic isn’t the one setting out the hoops. If anything, she’s jumping right beside him. His Father is making Betty follow her own set list of tasks, but what is she getting out of it? Why follow His commands?

Lazarus was sitting right outside of the bathroom doorway when Lucifer stepped out of the shower, and he once again cursed the fact that he didn’t have any doors. The dog was looking up at him with wide unblinking eyes, which he completely ignored as he dried himself off. He moved past the beast to his open closet, and the clothes he pulled on for the day were loose and comfortable. Gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt. This is what he has been reduced to. When he turned around, the dog was laying at his feet with its snout on its paws and its eyes looking upwards. A quiet whine cut through the air, and Lucifer narrowed his eyes. The dog isn’t hungry. When he’s hungry, he pushes his head gently against Lucifer’s thigh and makes a quiet rumbling noise.

“You know, if I wasn’t stuck in the body of a useless underdeveloped ape, I’d know exactly what you wanted,” he grumbled. Dark eyes just continued to look up at him, and Lucifer ran a hand over his damp hair. He’s not going to get any answers out of the dog. The living room was empty and so was the kitchen, so he went ahead and filled the beast’s bowls. Food in the green one and water in the blue one. Once he was finished, he turned around but the dog was nowhere in sight. Instead the gentle brute was sitting at the foot of the ladder leading up to Betty’s bedroom, and he let out another quiet whine when he realized Lucifer was watching him. When Lucifer didn’t move, Lazarus growled and barked loud enough to wake the overly suspicious hunter on the other side of the lake.

“Shh, Laz. I’m okay.” Betty’s voice drifted down from the loft, but it sounded…off. Weak and quiet. Lucifer stepped over the furry guardian to reach the steps, and the wood felt warm underneath his bare feet. The psychic was still lying in bed, and the blanket was wrapped completely around her shaking frame.

“Cold?” The question was asked with a slow smile, because he can hear the woman’s teeth chattering from where he stands.

“Bite me.” The hot splash of blood against his face as his teeth rip away the thin barrier of flesh covering her jugular. The bubbled gasp of pain and fear, weak fingers clawing at his shoulders as blood pours from her with every strangled beat of her heart. “Sounds kinky.”

“I thought you might enjoy that,” he said as he slowly made his way across the room. The skin under her eyes was stretched thin and slightly darker than her uncharacteristically pale face, but her eyes still held the same fearless look.

“You got one thing wrong.” Her eyes stayed locked with his as he lowered himself onto the bed, and he watched the way that the blanket seemed to ripple with her every shake.

“Mmm? What’s that?” She looks so weak and frail right now; even in this inept skin sack, he’d be able to easily subdue her. There’s something about that image that sits heavily in his gut. He doesn’t want to easily subdue her. He wants to feel her fight and then watch as she’s slowly broken down, bit by bit.

“I’d never gasp in fear. Pain, sure, but fear? Not ever gonna happen.” Her teeth locked together at the end of her sentence as her body gave another hard shake, and he reached out a hand to lightly cup her cheek. She was cold to the touch, colder than any human should be.

“It’s my fantasy. If I want to hear you gasp and cry out in fear, I can,” he said quietly as she turned her cheek into his palm. She’s seeking out his warmth. How…ironic.

“Isn’t it more fun if it’s realistic? You can hear me cry out in anger or frustration. Maybe even mockery.” She’s smiling up at him, with chattering teeth, and talking about her future torture. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll keep her around as a pet instead of killing her immediately. He can spend years breaking her.

“Are you sure you know what a fantasy is?”

She’s curled up on the far end of the bed, nearly falling off the edge, so he moved closer to the middle. The pillow he grabbed looked like the one he smothered her with, and he gave it a small pat as he placed it between his bruised back and the wooden headboard. Betty managed to raise herself up when she realized what he was doing, and he settled her thinner pillow against his stomach and helped her move between the vee of his legs. She was completely rolled up in the blanket, but she parted it from her upper half enough so that her cold body could touch against his warmer one. In the end, she turned sideways so that she could wrap her arms around his middle and her head rested on the pillow lying across his stomach. He moved his arms down around her and smoothed his hands around her shaking shoulder blades, and he tucked his feet under the blanket somewhere around her knees.

“A fantasy is something that comes from the imagination, and it can be either just something that a person thinks about or it can become reality,” she whispered. All of the moving around seemed to wear her out, and he watched as her eyes fluttered closed.

The binding spell took too much of her energy. She’s barely running on reserves right now, which is why her body temperature has dropped so low and she’s clinging to him for a heat source. This is why binding spells are nearly impossible to complete. The spells are normally only cast by witches that are willing to die. Wasn’t it enough to bring the dead hunter back to guard the Prophet? Why go through the trouble of risking her life, risking his grace, to bind the hunter and prophet together? None of it makes any sense to him, not his Father’s orders or Betty’s obedience. Why give his grace to His favorite assassin and then have her risk her life by doing something unnecessary?

“So, we gonna pass the day in complete silence?” Betty muffled out against the pillow. Perhaps, there’s a way that his questions can be answered. She might not have all the answers or know the future, but she still knows more than she has a right to.

“You could answer some questions for me.” She tilted her head to the side so that her mouth wasn’t pressed against the pillow, and he felt her fingers flex on the small of his back on either side of his spine.

“Question for a question? We gotta keep things fair, Lu.” The shakes have died down so that she’s only slightly trembling against him, but she still feels so cold. In some ways, he misses the cold. He’s always run cold, but the vessel that he’s trapped in is always burning.

“Fair is fair,” he agreed.

“Okay. You first.” There were many questions that he wanted to ask, so where to start?

“I’m not the only one being tested, am I?” Betty’s dark eyes disappeared from view as she snuggled into the pillow, but her head moved up enough that her nose brushed against the bottom of his chest.

“No, you’re not. I can’t tell for sure, but I think He’s testing all of us. The hunters, the angels, the demons…everyone. The Apocalypse is one big test, and only one side gets the A-plus. The rest of us just fail.” Her breath only held a little bit of muted heat, and he could feel it through the thin cotton of his shirt.

“Your question,” he reminded her. He may manipulate, trick, and influence…but he doesn’t lie.

“Can I put my hands under your shirt?” Her eyes opened enough for him to see a slit of brown, and he nodded his head. Cold hands smoothed up the bare skin of his back, and Betty hummed as warmth sunk into her fingers.

“Why do you follow His orders? What’s in it for you?” Her fingers tapped against his spine before lacing together, and he waited for her answer.

“When I was a teenager, I was convinced that I was going to Hell. I’d killed innocents, with no remorse, so Heaven would never take me in. Josie told me that I was wrong. I was doing His work, what He wanted, so of course He would reward me. Heaven is my reward, my chance at peace, and I will do whatever it takes to get it.” Betty Fay wants to rest, after a lifetime of death and destruction. She will kill and bind whoever she has to in order to reach the ending that she’s earned. It’s too bad he’ll never let her have that perfect ending.

“You believe in Him that much?” he asked once his thoughts were in order.

“Ah, ah, ah…you had your question. It’s my turn.” He gave her a look that she couldn’t see, but he thinks that she could feel it because she wiggled a little before taking her turn.

“Let’s say you win. You pass all the tests, get your grace back, and decide to go nuclear. You have all the power. You can do whatever you want. What do you do?” It’s a very big question, and a surprising one. Why does she care what he plans to do with the rest of the world? She should be worried about her own fate.

“I’ll start with my brothers. Raphael and Gabriel will stand against me, and Michael will want to kill me. Now that I know there’s a way to open my Cage, I’ll send them there. Let them see the darkness that I was trapped in for a couple of millennia. I imagine there will be another civil war between the angels, but I will not fail this time.”

“Yes, if you win. No one is standing in your way. All those that oppose you have been dealt with. Then what?” It’s not a different question, only a clarification of the original question, so he’ll let it slide.

“I will do what I’ve always wanted to do. I’ll rid the earth of humans so that it can flourish as it was meant to. The Earth was perfect before humans were created. I breathed in the first scent of a blooming flower. I witnessed the first beast capture its prey. I felt the first sunrise encompass my grace and stood under the first stars. This world was perfect, until humans destroyed it. Tore down the very things that gave them life and killed in excess for sport. Humans are a plague upon Father’s gift.”

“You’re…sad. You’re angry because it makes you sad, what the world has been reduced to.” Her brown eyes were wide as they stared up at him, and he slowly pulled back out of long ago memories.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“That wasn’t a question.” He just continued to stare down at her, so she shrugged. “Alright, ask away, but I’m moving. I’m still too damn cold and you feel like a furnace.”

“The spell you used to bind the container holding my grace to your soul, is there any way that it can be broken?”

He watched the way that Betty’s brows drew together as she struggled to unwind herself from the blanket, and he reached up to help tug her free. Once the blanket was fanned out, Betty tossed the pillow to the side and moved up his body. She tucked her head into the curve of his shoulder, moved her hands up his sides so that her arms were braced against his ribcage, and pushed her legs under his. The blanket was pulled up to her shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her back to hold her close. He could feel the chill of her body through the thin clothes they were wearing and felt every quiver.

“Trying to get rid of me?” It was whispered against the side of his neck, and he moved to lay his head on top of hers.

“Just curious.”

“There’s no counter spell or anything like that, so don’t start thinking that getting your grace back is going to be that easy. If my soul were to change, however, I would have to remove the container. Not a small change though. Something big. Something that alters my very being. And before you ask, the physical binding only dissolves if you leave that psychical body or I die.”

“So, we’re stuck. Not a question,” he added. Something that completely alters the soul…he’ll have to think on that. There’s no way he can leave this physical body without his grace; he doesn’t have enough power to create a spell that would transfer him to another vessel, so he’ll have to wait until he has his grace back for that. Or he can just kill Betty.

“My turn. Did you really think that you’d pass one of His tests by letting just any ol’ human live for a few more years? That saving one person would have absolutely no impact?” Just thinking about it still makes his skin crawl, to know that he saved so many of the gutless swine that he’s sworn to exterminate, but he has seen the error of his ways. He won’t let something like that happen again.

“I was working on the principle that all humans are precious and deserve a chance to thrive. I believe it’s my turn to ask a question now.” She sighed out a breath and wiggled her toes against his leg, but she didn’t argue or demand a better answer.

“Alright, Lu, do your worst. I’m ready for anything.”

“Does the physical binding keep us close?” To emphasize his point, he moved his hands across her back and pulled her even closer. He can feel her every breath when her chest expands and when she exhales. The way she touches him is so natural and casual, as if they were meant to always reach for each other. He wishes he could say that it’s just her, a human weakness for physical touch, but he reaches for her without even realizing it.

“I’m not sure. It could be because our physical bodies are bound to one another; the spell could urge us closer to satisfy itself. It might be your grace searching for you and since it’s bound to my soul, I’m searching for you too. You’re not meant to be separated from it; its natural state is for you to be together. For us to be together.” Both explanations make sense, and he’s not sure which one sickens him the most.

“Your question, Betty Fay. The last one.” He’s grown tired of this game, and he’s learned what he wanted. For now, at least.

“Is having a heartbeat really so bad?” As she asked, a cold hand traced over his ribs and moved over his chest. Her palm pressed flat over his steady heartbeat, and he removed one hand from her back to rest over the hand under his shirt. Thin fabric was all that separated their skin, and he felt the way that her hand warmed as it was trapped between his body heat.

“This one defenseless organ is what keeps this body alive. If it’s damaged in any way, internally or externally, this vessel dies. When it stops, I stop. Why would anyone want to have a heartbeat?” The true question is why anyone would want to be human. As an angel, all he had was grace. If it was damaged, it could be repaired. There was no direct spot that would take him out. Only someone truly stronger than him would be able to defeat him. Fully grown humans can be killed by a child standing behind a gun.

“Heartbeats keep us humble and remind us that any minute could be our last,” she said quietly. A single finger tapped out his heart’s rhythm, and he hated his fleshy prison even more. He traded one cage for another.

“That’s not good enough.” Betty hummed in the back of her throat and completely relaxed against him, and it was hard to find places where they weren’t touching. Her body was starting to warm more, but she’s still nowhere near as warm as she should be. All of the talking seems to have worn her out as well.

Lucifer dozed as he held Betty against him, and the psychic slept quietly against him. They both know that if he ever gets the chance, he’ll kill her. Painfully. Slowly. Tortuously. None of that seems to matter right now. For the moment, Betty is weak and leaning against him for support. And he is allowing it. He knows now that he won’t be able to twist her and manipulate her into getting what he wants; all he can do now is wait for a way to get under Betty’s guard or somehow pass his Father’s tests.

“You were wrong, you know,” Betty huffed out against his ear several hours later. She still had both hands under his shirt, one behind his back and the other braced against his chest. She’d twisted in her sleep so that her legs were curled up under one of his thighs, and she was starting to feel a more normal temperature.

“About what?” He still feels groggy and tired, despite doing nothing. Maybe it’s the heat from being cocooned under a thick blanket with another person.

“Neither one of us knows what love is,” she mumbled. The hand on his back moved to his chest, over his shirt, and she slowly pushed herself up. A small throb of pain got his eyes to open fully, and Betty was so close that he could see the lighter colored flecks in her dark eyes.

“We don’t?” He remembers this conversation; they had it when they were sitting on the front porch, in the swing.

“I claimed to love Josie, the woman who raised me, but I abandoned her family after she died. It was easier for me to stay away. I claimed to love Jo, but I just had her ripped out of Heaven and returned to this shit-filled world. You killed one of your brothers, someone that you claim that you love, and you were willing to kill your big brother. The first being that you ever loved.” Her face is completely serious, and there’s even a small flicker of emotion hiding in her eyes. Looks like something can make Betty Fay feel after all.

“Then what is love?”

“Love is sacrifice.” It’s not fear in her eyes…it’s something else. Something wild and uncontrollable, because Betty is always in control of herself. What happened to her? It came to him like lightning; Betty had a vision. What did she see that would make her look at him like this?

“Sacrifice?” He raised a brow as he asked the question, and Betty licked her lips as her eyes flicked between each of his own. She’s so close that he can see the freckles dotted across her nose and smell the light scent of her skin.

“Yeah, love is sacrifice. It has nothing to do with you, and it has everything to do with them. Huh.”

The hand pressing against his bare skin is warm now, and he can feel the heat of her body mixing with his own. Ten little dull points of pain pricked against his chest as she leaned forward, and he held completely still as lips pressed against his forehead. She held herself still against him, as if soaking up the last of his warmth, before pulling completely back. The blanket was tossed aside as she moved to the edge of the bed, and her feet made quiet thumps against the hardwood floor as she stood up.

“Feeling better?” He can still feel the wet press of her lips against his skin; the spot feels cooler than the rest of him, even with her body heat missing.

“Much. Thanks for that. I think I’ll take a shower, and you can maybe go round us up something to eat?” She’s holding her hair in a ball on top of her head, and he can clearly see the marks against her skin now. Dark purple, like his chest.

“I think we still have some food left.” He moved to the edge of the bed and stood up, and Betty moved over to her closet to start pulling clothes out.

“We’ll have to go grocery shopping soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I need to figure things out.” The last part was mumbled to herself, but still loud enough for him to hear. Before he could say anything, she disappeared into her bathroom with a bundle of clothes and shut the door. Because she gets to have doors. He paused at the top of the ladder and looked at the messy bed, and he felt his eyes narrow. Something just changed, but what?