Gotta Have Faith

“Hi, Betty Fay!” She blinked away the sunlight and looked down. A small child, around four, was looking up at her with big brown eyes. The little girl’s dress was a pretty light pink color, and it was covered in grass stains. Blood stains. Grass stains. It kept flicking back and forth. She knows this little girl. She’s never seen her, not when she was this little or all grown up, but that hardly matters.

“Hello, little Gracie.” Her small nose wrinkled in childish anger, and she scuffed her toes against the ground. There’s something behind little Emma, but it’s too blurry. It’s not for Betty to see.

“It’s coming.” Sometimes, the little girl’s eyes look like they’re on fire.

“What is?” Little Emma held her arms out a little and twisted at the hips so that her dress would twirl around her legs. Grass. Blood. Grass. Blood. Everything is on fire.

“The end. Yours. Mine. Everyone’s.” Her smile is so innocent and carefree, but her skin is burned black and peeling.

“You don’t think your side will win?” The little girl stopped twirling, and she looked normal this time as she looked up at Betty. There was an adult’s intelligence in her too wide eyes, and she looked over her shoulder.

“He’s coming to save me. He always saves me.” She turned back around and smoothed her hands down her dress, leaving dark smears against the light fabric. “Who’s gonna save you, Betty Fay?”

The house was still dark when she startled awake, and she held herself still and counted her heartbeats. That wasn’t a vision, so what was it? Why would she see a four year old Emma Motley? Unless…Gabriel tore them up inside when he expelled Nuriel, and she’s guessing that Emma was fully conscious for everything. Emma regressed, but Gabriel will save her. Gabriel will always save her, just like she’ll always save him. They’re bound together in a way that she’s never really seen before, and she’s got a feeling that it’s going to end bloody. How else can it end? “Who’s gonna save you, Betty Fay?”

The sound of a steady thump was coming from downstairs, and Betty could just make out the sound of her old radio. Someone’s in her kitchen. Either Lazarus has finally learned how to make his own food, or Lucifer is up and cooking breakfast. She’s betting her money on Laz. With a silent groan, that was felt instead of heard, she heaved herself up and out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool wood just like they did every morning, but something felt different. Her skin was too tight, her hair was too heavy, her breath was too thick…everything felt wrong but still right. It makes no sense, but that’s what her senses are telling her. Everything is wrong. Everything is right.

She snagged a robe from the back of her bathroom door and quickly slid her arms inside. She slept in a pair of shorts that were really too short and a thin tank top, so she tied the belt as she carefully made her way down the stairs. She kept quiet as she moved into the brightly lit kitchen, even as she took in a deep breath. Lucifer is standing in front of her stove, and there’s a plate next to him that already has a few pancakes on it. He got up and cooked breakfast. Lazarus is laying on the kitchen floor in front of the sink, and the big lug looked over at her and lazily wagged his tail. He’s still not butting his head against the devil, but it looks like her furry companion is starting to get more comfortable in his presence. Sure enough, her old radio is sitting on the counter and playing one of her favorite stations. The song changed just as Lucifer noticed her, and he gave her a sly smile as he slid another pancake onto the plate. How can he be sly while cooking breakfast?

“Only you, can make this world seem right.”

“Good morning.” He gave her a cheery wave with the spatula, and Betty leaned an arm against the doorway.

“Only you, can make the darkness bright.”

“Morning.” Her voice is still rough from sleep, and possibly from getting choked yesterday. There’s little crescents dug into Lucifer’s forearms with bruises outlining them, so she’s not going to give him a stern talking to about trying to kill the hand that feeds you. Not right now anyway. Maybe later.

“Only you, and you alone, can thrill me like you do.”

“I wanted to surprise you. Why are you up so early?” Betty raised a brow at that particular phrasing, but it was lost on Lucifer because he was pouring more batter into the pan. Quiet little popping sounds filled the kitchen, and she reached up to get her hair out of her face.

“And fill my heart with love, for only you.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Why the sudden urge to pull a Martha Stewart? Trying to apologize?” He did look over his shoulder at that one, and she locked her elbows when his cold eyes swept over her throat. Going by the tenderness, she’s got some pretty dark bruises.

“Only you, can make this change in me.”

“I didn’t realize I had anything to apologize for. Should I apologize for something?” How can his eyes burn when they feel so cold? He turned long enough to flip the pancake before looking back at her, and she kept herself relaxed. She knows what he’s doing. He’s looking for a weakness, for some way to break her. If he can break her enough, she’ll hand his grace over willingly. No need for any tests. Does he think she’ll break that easily? They’re bound together, ‘til death do them part.

“For it’s true, you are my destiny.”

“If you have to ask, the answer is no.” She kept her eyes flat and her lips smiling, even when he moved the pan off the hot burner and made his way across the kitchen. She tipped her chin up to meet his eyes and watched the way that his fingers reached for the dark marks ringing her neck. Yeah, that’s not happening today. She grabbed his wrist before he could make contact, and his eyes blazed. Hot. Cold. What’s the difference? It’s going to burn either way.

“When you hold my hand, I understand, the magic that you do.”

“I am sorry, Betty, for hurting you. Will you accept my pancake apology?” His eyes are too bright and his smile is too wide; is he trying to charm her into a false sense of security? He knows better than that. Then again, this is the devil. He’s the master of manipulation and mind games. She can’t let her guard down around him, because there’s no telling what he’s planning.

“You’re my dream come true. My one and only you.”

“I’ll accept them this time. If it happens again, you’re sleeping on the porch.” Lucifer twisted his wrist so that he was holding her hand instead of her gripping his wrist, and he used the gentle hold to lead her over to the table. He used his free hand to pull out her chair, and she eased herself down into it with a bemused smile. Oh, but the devil is good.

“Understood.” He set a plate down in front of her, along with a glass of orange juice, and placed her bottle of syrup in the center of the table. Betty took a cautious taste after Lucifer took his first big bite, and she chewed slowly as her thoughts raced. “Not good?”

“Where’d you learn to cook pancakes?” she finally asked. They tasted delicious. Fluffy and golden brown, just right.

“From Nick.” Her fingers tightened around her fork for just a moment, hard enough to make her knuckles flash white, and she used the juice to wash down the food.

“I’m glad his soul at his peace. Maybe you should stay out of his memories so he stays that way?” She knows that sometimes the angels have to take a vessel; it’s the only way they can really walk the Earth. The more powerful the angel, the harder it is to find a vessel. She’s surprised that Nick’s body lasted as long as it did, but not nearly as surprised at the fact that Lucifer released his vessel’s soul. Not many angels can do it because of how much energy and power it takes, and Lucifer was already weak just by being in Nick’s body. She really doesn’t understand him sometimes.

“Why should I when they benefit me?” He looked truly curious for once instead of just mocking, but it doesn’t matter what answer she gives. It benefits him, and that’s all that really matters.

“Because it’s morally wrong. Do you understand what you did to him?” Lucifer leaned forwards, but she noticed that he kept his elbows off her table. Looks like you can teach an old dog new tricks.

“I set him free,” was the soft answer. It’s written all over his face and reflected in his eyes; he really believes that.

“No, Lucifer, you killed him. He still had a chance. Could have fallen in love and started all over, but you took that from him. You took everything from him.” He shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, and Betty took another bite as she waited for him to speak.

“He had already lost everything. Nick had one love, and she was gone. His child was gone. I sent him home.” Home…to Heaven, where his wife and child were waiting. Maybe Lucifer really did free the guy, but that’s not for her to decide.

“For his sake, I hope so. Up for another day at the flower shop?” The tight line of his shoulders relaxed and his smile softened, and Betty took another sip of juice. Each morning keeps getting weirder and weirder.

“I can’t wait.”


He was sitting on the store side of the counter, and his eyes tracked Betty’s movements as she walked back from the front door of the shop. They closed for lunch, so Betty had to flip the sign back to Open. Mimi was leaning against the counter behind him and talking about how she didn’t want to go to school the next day, Monday. She’s a fallen angel attending high school, and his fearsome captor owns a flower shop. Nothing about his return is making any sense, but he has a plan. He’s starting to have a plan. He will get his grace back, no matter what. He’ll endure whatever is needed until he’s an angel again, and that includes everything from cooking breakfast to helping customers to playing his part as a gentleman. It’s too bad gentlemen can’t wrap their hands around slender necks and squeeze until—

Ding!

Betty twirled on her heel behind the counter to face the door, and Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to the bright purple scarf tied around her neck. He’s sure that the bruises underneath are a much darker color. It took some focus, but he managed to look away and watch the man slowly walking towards them. He was taller than his vessel by a couple of inches, broad in the shoulders and strong, and his blue eyes flicked all around the shop from under a mop of unbrushed black hair. The jeans and heavy dark jacket he was wearing looked rumpled, like he’d slept in them, and the dark blue button-up underneath was missing the bottom two buttons. The kid looked horrible.

“Are you the owner?” He was looking right at Betty since she was the only one actually behind the counter, and Lucifer leaned back enough to keep both of them in his line of sight.

“I am. The name’s Betty Hogan. Who are you?” Betty doesn’t sound worried, but that doesn’t mean anything. The psychic can’t see everything.

“Gabriel says hi.” Lucifer felt something in his spine pull, and Mimi stirred behind him.

“Is he talking about our Gabriel? The Gabriel?” the younger ex-angel asked. The kid’s eyes looked at Mimi before refocusing on Betty, and the psychic hummed a little in the back of her throat.

“You must be Tyler Swan, Nuriel’s true vessel. Gabriel dropped you off here, didn’t he?” A muscle in the kid’s jaw ticked, but he kept his voice even.

“Something like that.” Betty nodded as she rooted around under the cash register, and she tossed her keys to Mimi a moment later.

“Take him around and get him everything he needs. Clothes, food, other essentials. When you’re done, take him to the shed.”

“The shed?” Betty was pulling her wallet out now, and the kid took a few more steps forward.

“That’s just what I call it. It’s more like a guest house. It’s small, but it’ll fit one just fine. Mimi, go ahead and fill him in on everything. He’s going be to around for a while, so it’s better to have him prepared. We’ll talk tonight, after I get off work. Take care of my Jeep.” Betty passed her debit card over to the teenager, and the kid was looking back and forth between all of them.

“That’s it? I give you Gabriel’s message and now you’re taking care of me?”

“Just like that. I know you’re thinking about running, but I wouldn’t if I were you. You’re safe here, protected, but you’re on your own out there. Do you want Nuriel to ride your ass again?” The kid’s eyes shuttered, completely shut down, and he looked down at the floor.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then follow Mimi. I’ll see you tonight.” The kid followed Mimi out of the shop with shuffling steps, and Betty sighed once the door was closed behind them.

“Gabriel was here?” Betty stopped rubbing at her temples so that she could look at him, and she lightly bit down on the corner of her lip. No, next to the corner of her lip. Closer to her cheek. The flash he caught of her tongue showed a mixture of soft pink and bright red. She bit the inside of her cheek, next to her lip. She must have had a smaller vision.

“Gabriel and Michael were both here, but they didn’t come into town. Looking a little pale there, Lu. Scared?” Betty’s teasing smile was so close that he could reach up and tear it off, and his hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge down.

“Could they sense me?” Even if they were on the edge of town, that’s still close enough to sense him. All angels can sense others of their kind, but they were the first four. They’ve always been different. Is it possible that Gabriel and Michael could be that close and have no idea he was here?

“No, they can’t sense you. They know where I am, and that’s it. They don’t know about Mimi or you, but they want me to keep Tyler Swan safe. We both know what will happen if Nuriel gets his hands on him again.” The teasing tone was gone from her voice, and he looked away from the dark nail mark barely an inch away from his wrist. Her eyes are dark again, not like when she’s having vision, but it’s something close. She knows what’s coming.

“He’ll burn the entire planet.” Betty nodded without comment, and he reached up to run his fingers along the counter. His middle finger got snagged on Betty’s thumb and he held still, and Betty raised a brow at him. Waiting. “My Apocalypse never really got started, but this one is different. It’s…bigger.”

“Was that hard to admit? Men and their egos.” She snagged one of his hands and flipped it over, so that his palm was facing the ceiling. A single finger, with dirt caked under the fingernail, ran across the lines of his palm as she hummed. “It’s going to end bloody, that’s for sure. Even if the good guys win, it’ll be too late to save them all. It’ll be too late to—”

“Too late to what?” Her finger was still tracing figures on his palm, but she’s gone off script. She’s not tracing the lines anymore.

“Too late to save me. I’ll die before this Apocalypse is over.” Down. Right. Curve towards the center. Looping upwards. Tickling the edges of his fingers.

“Do I get a front row seat?” He smiled when she looked up to meet his eyes, but her finger is still moving. The sensation is tickling, and he wants to pull away. He won’t be the first one to back down.

“You better wear your raincoat, Luci.” She gave him a little wink as her index finger traced a line up his middle finger, and she was humming again as she walked off to tend to the flowers. A raincoat? He wouldn’t bother with one. Why would he when he’s just waiting for the chance to feel her blood coat his skin? “Bring me the garden shears, would ya?!”

“Coming right up.”