Gotta Have Faith

“Stay here.” She didn’t bother to look behind her, but she could feel Lucifer’s eyes burning a brand right between her shoulders.

“Why should I?” She tapped her fingers against the old doorknob and shifted on her feet before speaking again. It’s all just flashes, quick little images, but she’s seen enough. For now.

“The kid’s been through a lot, and he needs some rest. What he doesn’t need is Satan looking down at him.” Lucifer’s heavy shoes shuffled across the porch, and she heard the top step groaning under his weight a moment later. He’s sitting down. Good. She’s too tired to fight right now.

“Be quick with it. I smell like a funeral.” Light and teasing, but there’s a hint of a threat underneath. There always is with him.

“Don’t we all?” She turned the knob and stepped inside, and she carefully closed the door behind her and pressed her back to it. The little guest house isn’t much to look at, but it’s good for one person. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom are all just one big room. There’s a lumpy loveseat in front of an ancient TV, a full-sized bed stuffed into the corner, a stove the size of a thumb, and a pretty-decent sized fridge considering the room it’s in. There’s a small bathroom behind a door with peeling yellow paint, and there’s a young hunter sitting on the far end of the ugly patterned loveseat.

“Took you long enough,” the kid huffed out. He’s had a shower, because his hair is still mostly wet. The ends are starting to dry and curl up a little. He’s wearing a blue tee shirt and baggy sleep pants that scream “thrift store,” but she’s just glad he’s wearing something that doesn’t smell like ashes.

“I have a business to run. I can’t leave whenever I want to,” she explained and lowered herself onto the opposite arm. She could sit on the loveseat next to the guy, he’s no threat to her, but she feels like he needs some space.

“And when the world ends?” He said it easily and casually, but she can see the tension in his shoulders. No one takes the Apocalypse lightly. Not even her.

“I’ll sell flowers in Heaven. So, Mimi got you completely caught up?” Miriam was a warrior, but Mimi…she has the innocence of a teenage girl. Sometimes Betty can see the angel under the surface, but she prefers Mimi’s soft and trusting eyes.

“You’re a psychic and retired hunter. You bound a human Lucifer to you in preparation for the Apocalypse that’s on the way. All angels are confined to the Earth, that’s why Nuriel was hunting me down, but I shouldn’t worry about any of that.” He ended the little re-telling with a snort and an eye-roll, and Betty wondered what it was that the fallen angel said.

“Oh? Why not?” She leaned forward just a little, and the young hunter’s eyes met hers.

“Because Michael and Gabriel won’t let the world end. I’ve met them, and they don’t seem like such great warriors to me.”

Michael is covered in blue and screaming his rage for Heaven to hear. Gabriel is Emma is Gabriel. We will destroy them all.

“You’d be surprised,” she said slowly. What the hell was that? She’s never seen that before; she’s never seen anything even close to that before. The others were there too and tickling at the edges of her vision, but she couldn’t see them. They might be able to pull off saving the world, but at what price?

“How long do I have to stay here?” She pulled out of her thoughts and looked over at the young kid. He’s only nineteen, with dead parents and a fake ID.

“You can leave now, if you want.” He looked up at her so fast she thought she heard something pop, and she just smiled at him. “Or you can stay here and ride out the Apocalypse. You’re free to go at any time, but if you do, leave a note so that I know an angel didn’t sneak into my town.”

“I think I can remember that.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t really stick. She can’t fault him for that. They live in strange times.

“Mimi get you a cell phone?” He nodded his head and looked over towards the bed, and Betty followed his gaze. A small phone, disposable, was sitting on top of the blanket. It’s got her cell number in it, Mimi’s cell, and the number to the flower shop. “If you need anything, kid, just give me a call or walk over.”

“Are you really a psychic?” She was standing up and walking towards the door, but she paused at the question. Leaving Lucifer outside to get impatient isn’t exactly a smart decision, but he’ll hold for another minute.

“Really. Wanna know your fortune?” It was asked with a dimpled smile and a slight tilt of her head, but she doesn’t hate the kid for asking. Some people she hated for asking, the ones that mocked her and called her a fraud…like anyone would actually want this gift?

“Am I going to live through this Apocalypse?” Something knocked against her skull, but she knew not to let it in. She doesn’t want to know the answer. If she did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not time for her to know.

“Maybe. God gave us free will for a reason, but it wasn’t to help my psychic abilities. Your future is up to you. Now get some sleep. Being a vessel is hell on the body.” She gave a little wave over her shoulder as she opened the door, and she took a slow breath once she was outside. Lucifer was still sitting on the top step and looking out across the lake, or is he looking past the lake to her house? Their house, for the time being.

“I think Betty Fay is a liar,” Lucifer said quietly, singing the last word. Huh, his hearing must be pretty good. She touched against his hair, the soft blonde strands that didn’t belong to him, as she passed him on her way down the steps.

“I can’t lie if I don’t know the truth,” was her reply as she started across the space between her house and the guesthouse. She could hear Lucifer walking behind her, but he didn’t bother with trying to catch up. He likes looking at her. Likes imagining all the ways that she can be killed. Imagines the sound of her bones as they’re sawed through, the way her blood will pool as her entrails are torn out, feel her screams vibrating through the air…The devil does have a good imagination.

They passed the walk to the house in silence, at least, external silence. Internally, it was very far from quiet. Betty slowly walked up the steps to her own front porch, and she paused before reaching the door. No, it’s not time to go inside yet. She turned on her heel and moved over to the swing, and she felt Lucifer’s eyes on her. Not murderous, simply curious. She eased herself down on one side with a quiet sigh, and she let her body relax back against the wood. The space next to her was left wide open, and Lucifer took the offered seat. The swing swayed as he sat down, and Betty kept it going by pushing her toes against the wooden boards under her feet. On an impulse, she kicked off her sandals so she could feel the wood with her bare toes. They’re still warm but quickly losing heat in the night air.

“It’s a beautiful night.” The tone was light, maybe even a little wistful, and Betty drew a leg underneath her as she turned to face him. Once she was settled, her back was brushing against the chains holding the swing up, she had one leg tucked under her, and her other leg was stretched out so she could keep rocking the swing.

“What does the devil know about beautiful nights?” Lucifer didn’t turn to look at her like she thought he would. Instead, he let out a slow breath and trailed his fingers over the chains on his side.

“Father made the Earth first, before humans. I never claimed to hate the Earth. It has always been beautiful.” Oh, so that’s it. He may love the planet that his Father created, but he hates the humans that live on it. Because…because humans have ruined it. He always knew that the humans would destroy his Father’s creation, but no one would listen. He has been proved right and still no one cares; they still call him a blasphemer and curse his name. He was right.

“Do you love your brothers, Lucifer?” Huh, his eyes look warm in the darkness. He really is a big ball of strange contradictions. Cold eyes that burn more than any fire and warmth when there’s no light.

“Do you know anything about love?” Her lips tipped down in a “fair enough” expression, and she stretched out her leg to keep it from cramping. Her toes brushed against Lucifer’s leg before settling her foot on his thigh, and a callused hand gently touched against the top of her foot.

“I know that it’s something that builds up deep inside and that it makes people do crazy things. Good people will kill for love, and bad people will give themselves up for it. There’s songs, and poems, and stories, and movies about it. It’s screamed from rooftops in glee and whispered in broken words from those who have lost it. It’s the most powerful weapon there is,” she said quietly. She’s never really been in love, not with a person. She’s in love with life and the feeling she gets when the sun warms her face. She’s seen it though; she’s seen what it can do to people. She might have loved Jo, the hunter that raised her, but she was too angry to really pay attention.

“I know plenty of beings that would disagree with you there.” She hates when he smiles like that, smug and all-knowing. Has she ever smiled like that?

“Then I guess they don’t know anything about love, do they?” Long fingers tapped against the small bones in her feet before smoothing down towards her ankles. He patted his thigh on the other side of her foot, and she raised a brow in question. The look he gave her told her that she knew what he was asking for, but she doesn’t really believe it. “I want to swing.”

“I’ll make sure we keep swinging.” She raised her other leg and touched her heel against his thigh, and she heard the sound of his heavy boots rolling across the wooden boards as he kept them moving. It was a constant sound. Soothing.

“I don’t mean all your siblings. The four of you, you were the first. You guys can spout out how much you love all the angels all you want, but I know the bond between you four is stronger than any other. So, Lucifer, do you love your brothers?”

“I told you that I love Gabriel.” His thumbs pushed against the arch of her right foot as his fingers kneaded against the aches, and she hummed a little. It’s what she always does when she’s thinking. Or when someone else is doing her thinking for her.

“Mmm, yeah, but you still killed him.” He alternated to her other foot, and she let her toes pop. She really does love a good foot massage, and the devil has nimble fingers apparently.

“What was it you said?” His eyes met hers and his rhythm never faltered. “Good people will kill for love?”

“You’re not a good person,” was her quick counter. It was delivered with a small smile and a foot wiggle, so Lucifer switched feet again. She stands more on her right foot than her left one, so it carries the brunt of her aches and pains.

“No, I am an archangel. Don’t you think that makes my love even stronger?” Before the War, angels felt emotions that humans would never be able to fathom. So, it would make sense that Lucifer’s love was stronger than anything felt by a human, but love is not the only emotion that can be felt.

“You killed him out of love?” She’s sure Gabriel would love to hear this conversation, to be able to hear his brother say that he was killed out of love.

“It was something that had to be done.” A means to an end. She gets it, in a sick and twisted kind of way. Can she really judge him for what he did? She’s killed to achieve her own ends, but she can at least say that she never loved any of them. Would he still say that if he could have seen the state of Gabriel’s wings before they were ripped away? If he saw the way that his little brother was torn apart in the Pit?

“Do you love Raphael?” Of all the archangels, she’s seen him the least. Until recently, that is.

“I do. He chose not to fight, for me or Michael. Out of all of us, he was the…softest.” Michael is full of sharp edges, Lucifer is too bright, and Gabriel is more human than them all.

“Not anymore. He’s a leader now, a commander. He opened Purgatory and chained all the angels to the Earth. What do you think changed him?” Lucifer ran his hands along her ankle bones before softly pressing his thumbs along the outline in circles, and she waited for him to gather his thoughts. She can see how Raphael has changed, but not why.

“I was in the Cage for a very long time, and it’s hard to see down there.” He flashed her a crooked smile and circled his thumbs again. “Raphael always hated fighting. During the War, he would beg Michael to stop fighting. To let me come home. Gabriel would remain silent when Raphael asked for him to stop fighting, but Michael would always refuse outright. Maybe he got tired of sitting back and doing nothing.”

“Do you still love Michael?” His hands tightened around her ankle, nearly hard enough to bruise, before relaxing and moving to her other foot to start the process all over again. She could get used to this.

“It was just us, for a little while. Just the two of us. He was my big brother; I looked up to him; I loved him from the moment I saw him. I trusted him, and that mistake cost me my freedom. My home.” It sounds like the devil misses Heaven, but who wouldn’t after spending lifetimes locked inside of a dark cage?

“Do you still love him?” she asked again. Warms hands traced up her shins and then shifted to smooth down her calves, and she wiggled her toes against his stomach. She’s waiting for an answer.

“Should I? Should I love someone who hates me?” He doesn’t sound hurt by the question like any other person would be. Just quietly accepting with a little curiosity on the side.

“Michael doesn’t hate you. He hates the way things unfolded and how much destruction you reaped on one another, but he doesn’t hate you.” Lucifer raised a brow at her and tilted his head to the side a little like he was trying to read her the way she so easily read him sometimes.

“I still love him.” She placed her feet flat on Lucifer’s thigh and scooted forwards as she raised her knees, and she looped her arms around her legs before propping her cheek on top of her knees.

“It’s still blurry, but I think you’ll be given a choice. I’m not sure what the choices will be, but I know they’ll be involved. The three of them. They’ll give you a choice.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, even though there’s no one else around them. Maybe that’s why she’s whispering. He’s the only one listening.

“Will that be my big test?” His eyes traced the silver chain around her neck, and Betty blinked up at him as the knocking from earlier returned.

He’s standing between them, the final point returned at last. It’s blue, it’s gold, it’s green…he’s so bright, and her world is red.

“Yes.” She came out of the small vision right as his fingertip touched the corner of her eye, and she held still as he traced a small line across her cheek. That same finger moved back to the top of her foot and traced small patterns across the thin skin, in the same way that she traced his palm earlier this afternoon.

“Your toenails were purple.”

Her world is red.

“What?” Her mind needs to learn when to shut up. The devil is talking about her toenails for some reason, so she needs to pay attention. She doesn’t need cryptic messages echoing.

“When I first came here, your toenails were purple.” She hasn’t really had the time to repaint her toenails, so they’re just bare. Huh, he remembers what her feet looked like. He must have been in agony, but he can remember such a small detail.

“Yeah, they were.” One hand encircled her ankle while the other rose, and she held still as he reached for her. He’s not going to kill her. Not tonight.

“The color suits you,” he said as fingers pressed against the side of her throat. The spot flared with heat followed by a deep ache, and Lucifer gentled his fingers so that she could only feel a whisper of his touch. “If I had my grace, I’d heal you.”

“I’ll never return your grace just to heal myself. I would—”

“—die first,” he finished. Looks like he’s finally starting to understand who she is. That’s good, because she’s starting to understand him a little too.

“We should go in and get some sleep. We have work in the morning.” She grabbed the hand hovering close to her face as she swung her legs around, and she tugged Lucifer up as she got to her feet. Once he was standing, she bent down to snag her sandals and led the way inside the house. Laz was stretched out in the kitchen and letting out little doggy snores, so she turned towards the stairs leading to her room.

“Goodnight, Betty Fay.” She hates that name, especially on his lips.

“Night, Lu.”