Gotta Have Faith

The hot water pounded against her and chased away the last of the chills still clinging to her spine, and her tongue dipped out to taste the droplets on her lips. Sweat and skin…hers or his? She shouldn’t have done that, but she couldn’t stop herself. When Lucifer asked why they touch so much, why they reach for each other, she told most of the truth. She didn’t lie, she promised him that she wouldn’t, but she didn’t tell the whole truth. Yes, something outside of their control keeps them close together. The binding spell, his grace, or any other thing that she doesn’t know about yet. The possibilities are endless. His touch also helps bring out the visions, and she needs to know what’s going to happen. There are still endless futures stretched out before them, but she has a better idea of what’s going to happen on her end now.

She’s only seen a vision of her own death once, when she was six, but it’s something that she’s never forgotten. Probably because the vision was frustratingly vague. Everything had been in shades of gray and blurry. She’d seen a woman lying on the ground first, and her six year old self didn’t know who she was. Once the eyes bled into a familiar brown color, it came to her. She was looking at an older version of herself, only now, that’s the face she sees in the mirror. Eyes staring up at the sky, hair fanned around her head, gray fading into red around her head, and a smile on her face. She doesn’t know who killed her, or how, or why. She doesn’t know where she’ll be or what she’ll be wearing. All she knows is that she’s going to die with a smile on her face.

Dying hasn’t scared her since then, and it doesn’t scare her now. What she saw earlier though…there’s a part of her that feels settled at knowing what’s to come, and there’s another part of her that rages at her fate. Love is sacrifice. When she was seventeen, Josephine was taken by demons. Betty was able to track them down, and she made it just in the nick of time. Josie was beaten and bloody but still alive, and Betty managed to exorcise enough demons and do enough damage to their vessels to severely thin their numbers. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. Betty was so locked on Josie that she didn’t see the demons coming up behind her, and they gave her a choice. They’d watched the two of them long enough to see their bond, to know how close the two female hunters were, and Betty was the one they asked to choose.

Demons used to be humans, so they still understand human emotions. They still understand love. The demons holding her expected her to break down, to beg for her adoptive mother’s life, and then to listen to the other woman beg for Betty’s life. It would have been a nice little game for them, and they would kill both Josie and Betty in the end. Only, Betty knew what choice to make. Betty Fay still had a job to do, and she knew this wasn’t how she was going to die. She told the demons to go ahead and kill Josie. The look in Josie’s eyes was clear; she knew that Betty would choose to live, and she didn’t blame her for that. The answer stunned the demons, which was all Betty needed to break free and finish them off. Josie was dead before she could get to her.

Love is sacrifice.

Betty wasn’t willing to sacrifice herself for Josie. If she’d died then without finishing her job, there was a chance she’d be sent to Hell. Betty wasn’t willing to sacrifice herself for Charlie. (Her name is Celeste Middleton.) The girl is going to be tested in ways that would break most people and will give up her life to remove only one of the threats against humanity, because Betty set her on that path. She didn’t have to. She could have just as easily taken on the trials and damned herself straight to Hell, because that’s what disobedience gets you. Betty wasn’t willing to sacrifice herself for Jo. The young hunter may feel like she has unfinished business, but she did her job. She stood against evil, paid the price, and was rewarded. Betty ripped her away from eternal peace, when any other hunter could have done the job. He asked for Jo though, so Betty delivered her for Him. Betty has never been willing to sacrifice herself for anyone. She has killed men, women, and children in order to reach her end.

Now she knows that when the time comes, she’ll disobey. She will be given an order, one loud enough to shake the ground under her feet, and she will disobey. For the first time in her life, she will make a decision that is completely hers. She knows the consequences; she’s seen enough visions to know everything there is to know about Hell, but the sulfur coating her tongue won’t change her mind. After everything, all the death and selfish decisions, she’ll throw away her chance to rest. She’s going to damn herself to Hell, and she’s going to die with a smile on her face. Betty’s going to make a sacrifice, and it’s all going to have been for nothing.



He moved up the ladder slowly, carefully, to keep the tray balanced. The only food he’d been able to find barely counted as food, but it was better than nothing. So there was a plate stacked with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and two big cups of tea on the tray, and he was careful not to let anything slip. Betty should think about having an actual staircase installed, instead of this laughable excuse of ladder steps. He looked away from the tray once he was standing in Betty’s room, but the door to the bathroom was still closed and there’s no Betty in sight. He carefully slid the tray onto the bedside table as he heard the bathroom door open, and he turned around to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I hate you.” Her voice was quiet and even, and his eyes slowly moved up from her bare feet to her face. She’s wearing a small pair of purple shorts and a thin white shirt with very thin straps, and every inch of skin that he can see is still glistening from her shower. As if she got dressed in a hurry. Wet strands of hair are falling from the ball her hair is in to cling to the dark bruises on her throat.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he said with a small nod. Did she feel it too? The shift from earlier? She left wet footprints on the hardwood floor as she walked towards him, and warm hands lightly cupped his face. Her temperature is remaining steady. That’s progress. She still looks too pale and weak; she’d be so easy to hold down right now. So easy to break. There’s barely any strength in her to fight back with.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Her nails are scratching lightly just behind his ears as she holds his face, and she smells like the field he stood in the last time he was on Earth. Like grass and sunlight.

“I am,” he agreed. It’s something that they both know; it’s something that he’s looking forward to. He can’t read the look in her dark eyes, but he knows that he doesn’t like it. Something about it unsettles him, makes his stomach clench and his chest burn. “What did you see, Betty Fay?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said with a small smile. Her fingers traced over his cheekbones as she pulled away, and he kept his eyes on her as her hands fell back to her sides. Their eyes stayed locked for a moment longer and then Betty turned to look at the tray. She tapped a finger against the edge of the tray and then glanced over at him.

“It’s all we have left,” he answered.

“Definitely going grocery shopping tomorrow then. Any food preferences?” She crawled past him on the bed and propped herself up against the headboard on the far side, and he moved to do the same thing on the side closest to the bedside table. Once they were both settled, he grabbed the tray and settled it over his lap.

“I don’t know. Angels don’t have to eat.” He only eats now because his vessel leaves him no choice; without food, this weak prison will fall apart around him and bury him in the wreckage.

“Doesn’t seem to stop them,” Betty said before taking a large bite out of a sandwich.

“Meaning?” he asked before following her lead. She had to drink some tea before she could talk again, but Lucifer isn’t in a hurry. Not right now, at least.

“Well, Gabriel is obviously a special case. Gabriel loves food, all food. Castiel has a thing for red meat, and even Michael can’t resist chocolate,” Betty listed off. It still surprises him just how far his brothers have fallen, especially Michael. Gabriel ran and became a pagan, and Castiel defied Heaven for one human. He can see how they have fallen, but Michael? Michael may have promised to protect the humans, but he never truly loved them. Why else would he be willing to kill so many of them? He doesn’t need to think about them right now. He’ll ponder the downfall of his brothers later, after his grace is returned.

''You need to call Mimi.'' He doesn't like the way that the peanut butter sticks to the roof of his mouth; why do humans enjoy this? It's just another example of their inferiority and stupidity.

''It's just peanut butter. We like it because it's simple and easy to put on bread,'' Betty said with a small shrug. The move caused her bare arm to slide along his; have they been sitting this close the whole time? ''And I already texted Mimi to let her know that I was okay, but thanks for actually telling me.''

''Don't mention it.''

“Your secrets are safe with me, Lu,” she drawled. The next few minutes were spent in silence as they ate, and the sandwiches on the plate slowly disappeared until there was nothing left but crumbs. Betty quietly thanked him when he stood up with the tray, but he didn’t reply. He just carefully made his way down the poor excuse of stairs and moved into the kitchen.

This is even worse than having to smile for humans past their expiration date at the flower shop. At least there, Betty is on her feet and watching him with dark distrusting eyes. Right now, she’s too weak for him to even insult. He could do anything he wanted with a minimal amount of fight. She’s weak enough that he could torture her easily, even in this weakened vessel, and make her give his grace up. Then again, physical strength has nothing to do with mental strength. He’s already held her life in his hands, watched her stop breathing, and she feared nothing. Not him. Not death.

When he made it back upstairs, Betty had slumped down so that she was laying down instead of resting against the headboard. Her skin has lost its healthy golden color, and her eyes look too big and dark in her face. Sweat is popping out against her skin, making it look like she’s fresh from the shower when it’s been a half hour. All she did was sit up to eat a sandwich, and that has her worn out to the point of exhaustion. This woman is all that stands between him and his grace, and it sickens him. Makes the food in his stomach settle like rocks and leaves a lingering taste of bile in his throat.

“Was it worth it?” It looks like she tried to cover herself with the blanket, but she was only able to pull it up to her knees.

“Was what worth it?” He doesn’t like the way her eyes are burning up at him. It makes his skin itch.

“Binding the hunter and the Prophet. Was it worth being so weak?” He’s standing next to the bed now, and he can see the veins of her eyelids. She looks completely washed out, a pale imitation of what she used to be. Of what she should be.

“You think I’m weak?” She’s not even bothering to try and look into his mind like she usually does. He watched the way that his fingers sunk against the mattress as he leaned towards her, and Betty slowly moved her head so that she could look into his eyes.

“I know you are,” was his whispered answer.

Her eyes closed as she took in a slow breath, and the room spun around him a moment before the breath was pushed from his lungs. The floor was hard against his already bruised back, and he instantly reached up to grab his attacker. Warm flesh molded around his hands and he could feel the curve of bones under his fingers. A ribcage. Her shirt must have slipped up. When he could breathe again, he slowly opened his eyes. One of her hands was pressing down against his windpipe and keeping him against the floor, and her other hand was wound through his hair. Her knees were on either side of his ribs so that she was sitting on his stomach, and he could feel every exhale against his chin. The hand in his hair tightened and pulled, so that his head was raised off the floor and even closer to her own. He can see her freckles again.

“Still think I’m weak?” Her skin is fevered now, a sharp contrast from the chill this morning, and he pushed himself even closer to her. His vessel can stand to lose a few strands of hair.

“You’re only human.” Brown eyes narrowed and her thighs clamped tight around his ribcage. He was already fighting to breathe from the hand on his throat, and the new restriction only made it that much harder. Her fingers lightly caressed his skin as her palm pushed down harder on his windpipe, and he could feel the veins under his eyes pulsing as his airway was completely blocked off.

“So are you.” The back of his head hit the floor with a quiet thump, and Betty sat up on his stomach. Her hands were pressed against his chest now, but he could breathe again. Having her sit on him didn’t help much, but the hand on his throat was gone and his ribcage wasn’t being compressed.

“This vessel means nothing. I will never be human.” He slowly sat up, and Betty slid down his torso to sit in his lap. She’s still straddling him with her hands resting flat on his chest, and he hasn’t let go of her sides since she first attacked him.

“I didn’t know angels bruise so easily,” she said and pressed her thumbs against his sternum. The growing bruises there flared with pain, but the feeling was nothing compared to his back or the fire in his throat. He reached up to grab her wrists in his hands, and he felt the way her thin skin shifted over the bones.

“Would you still fight me if I had my grace? Would you still try?” Her hands have taken so many lives, but they feel so fragile in his grasp. How can something so weak cause so much death?

“You don’t scare me, Lucifer. Not in this vessel and not with your grace.” She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, and her bottom lip brushed over his chin as she spoke again. “I will never be afraid of you.”

“Have you seen it, Betty Fay? Seen our end?” Their time together will end, eventually. After he gets his grace, he’ll draw it out until he’s finally satisfied. Her death will be an example for anyone who thinks they can dare to steal an angel’s grace, for anyone who thinks they can bind him.

“I’ve seen enough. Carry me to bed? Tackling you has made me sleepy.”

Her hands slipped through his so she could wind her arms around his neck, and he raised a brow in question. She slowly shook her head, so she’s not going to tell him what she saw. Not now. He’ll get answers out of her later. His hands traced over her thighs and he curled his fingers around the backs of her knees. Holding her to him while standing was easy, despite the dull ache in his body, and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. Instead of just tossing her off, like he was tempted to do, he laid down on the closest side of the bed. Betty removed her legs and arms, but she kept her face pressed against the curve of his shoulder. Her body is still feverish and throwing off heat, so he left the blanket where it was and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, he’ll get the answers that he wants out of her.