Gotta Have Faith

Sleep left him slowly and made him feel heavy, but the weight was comfortable and warm. The longer he’s human, the more used to it he gets. He’s even moved into a routine, sickening as it is. It hasn’t even been a full week yet, and he has a routine. There’s breakfast, work, lunch, work, home, dinner, shower, sleep. Repeat. Is He punishing him? Is that why he’s here? Does Father think that if he’s human long enough, he’ll stop hating them? It’ll take more than living in a skin sack to break him. He doesn’t even need to break, because he doesn’t need His approval. Not anymore. All he needs is Betty Fay. The stubborn woman will never believe any of his lies or tricks; she can see right through him, so he won’t lie. No tricks. He’ll be himself and win her over that way. He can be charming without lying, and he can convince her that he can do some good with his grace. (Who’s good doesn’t matter.)

“Rise and shine! Hurry up before the eggs get cold!” Betty’s loud voice echoed in the open house, and he slowly pushed his blanket and sheets down. He can understand why some humans never want to leave their beds. It’s warm and a good place to hide. He changed clothes on autopilot as he thought about the previous night.

By now, he’s used to having strange conversations with the psychic he’s being forced to live with. He’s even used to the more violent conversations, but last night was different. They sat quietly, on the dark porch, and didn’t exchange a single menacing word. He even massaged the ex-hunter’s feet while discussing the power of love. Sounds like something out of a bad made for TV movie. He felt his lip curling as he pulled a clean tee shirt over his head, and he cursed her name. Betty Fay. She was born for death and orders; he just never thought that he would be one of those orders.

“Eggs again?” he asked as he walked inside. Betty was already sitting at the table and chewing on a sausage biscuit, and she raised a brow at him as he sat down.

“If you don’t like it, feel free to forage for your own food. This whole being welcoming thing is starting to get old anyway.” She took another bite without looking away from the phone in her left hand, and he kept his grip light as he picked up his orange juice. He has a feeling that imagining the glass as the psychic’s throat will only result in pain for him and a source of amusement for her. “More like annoyance. I have a feeling that you’ve never had to clean up your messes before.”

“Isn’t it still too early to read my thoughts?” She looked up and across the table at him, and he smiled.

“Can’t seem to stop it lately. Is that your fault or your Father’s?” The psychic is losing control of her powers? Betty Fay is a born psychic; she had to have learned how to control it when she was younger, or she wouldn’t have lasted this long. Betty Fay is losing control…this could work in his favor, if she slips too much.

“I’m just a mere human. What could I possibly do?” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he kept a light smile on his face.

“You’ll never be a mere anything, Lu. Finish up. We gotta go soon.” She placed her phone on the table as she slid out of her chair, and blue eyes tracked her every movement as she walked to the sink. Always looking for a weakness that isn’t there. Even when she’s relaxed, she’s prepared for anything. The radio crackled to life and smoothed out as she turned the water on, and Lucifer finished his meal to the sound of quietly clinking dishes and soft music.

“You need to learn how to have fun,” he called out before finishing off his juice.

“Is that really the devil’s opening line? Little simplistic if you ask me.” He could hear the teasing in her voice as she washed a plate, and he carefully slid his own dirty dishes next to her elbow on the counter. The song faded out so another one could take its place, and the timing was perfect. How could he resist?

“Then I’ll step it up.”

“What are you—Hey!” The hands now clutching at the shoulders of his tee shirt were still wet with a few soap suds clinging to them, and Lucifer smiled as he slowly raised Betty out of the deep dip they were in. He fluidly moved into a turn and kept her moving, and he saw her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as they started to dance around the kitchen.

I’m a country girl, I ain’t seen a lot
But you came along, and my heart went POP!
You took a little streetcar to my heart
And an apple of love fell of my apple cart!

“This is what fun looks like,” he said as he spun her away from him. She laughed outright as she was pulled back in, and the light blue dress she was wearing swirled around their legs.

You looked at me, my heart began to pound
You weren’t the sort of guy I thought would stick around
Hey, but it don’t have to be eternally
My bad, bad angel put the devil in me!

“You put the devil in me,” she sang along as they moved around the table and out into the living room. The house was so open that sound carried easily, and they continued to move around each other.

You lured me in with your cold grey eyes
Your simple smile and your bewitching lies
One and one and one is three
My bad, bad angel…the devil and me!

“Are you having fun yet?” They were pressed together as they slowed to a sway, so he barely had to raise his voice to be heard. He’s so close to her that he can feel the steady beat of her heart and smell the shampoo that she uses. She’s so close that it would be so easy to grab a handful of her hair and wrench her head to the side, or smooth his hand up her ribcage and rip through to find her heart. Maybe he could—

So now my dear, I ain’t the girl you knew
Cause the angels got Heaven, but I get you
And the tree of life grows tall, you see
My bad, bad angel—you put the devil in me!

“Who knew you—” A scream cut off the rest of her question, and Lucifer tightened his arms as Betty began to shake. He slowly lowered her to the ground as the movements began to get more violent, and he locked his hands around her skull once she was on floor. Her eyes were wide open, and the black of her pupils stood out against the whiteness of her eyes. Nails dug into the floor while her legs kicked out, and she was still screaming.

It stopped as suddenly as it began. The screaming faded out first, just in time to hear the last you put the devil in me! echo in the room. Her back touched down against the floor as her eyes returned to their usual light brown, and her hands moved up to her face. Small trickles of blood were coming from her nose, and she reached up to wipe it away. He managed to get there before she did, and he used the bottom of his shirt to clean the blood off her face. (It’s a sight he won’t be forgetting anytime soon…Betty bleeds just like all the rest of them.)

“Something big?” he asked. He’s seen her have small visions that only cause her eyes to fade out a little, and he’s seen one of her bigger visions. When Nuriel set an entire town on fire and was cast out by Gabriel, something that takes an incredible amount of power, she only screamed a little and locked up.

“I need my phone.” Instead of arguing with her, he slowly stood up and retrieved the small phone from the table. She’ll tell him what he wants to know, he’s sure of it. There are many things that can be said about Betty, but she’s always straightforward and honest. She’s never held anything back from him. He passed the phone over and listened as she talked to Mimi, who was probably getting ready for school. She asked the ex-angel to stop by the shop before class and put up a sign that said the shop was closed for the week, and she wanted the girl to keep an eye on the hunter in their backyard. Keep him occupied and away from the house. Then she hung up, without an explanation.

“Ready to talk?” Brown eyes slowly moved up his kneeling body until they locked with his, and he held himself still as he waited.

“Gabriel and Emma…they’re completing the bonding. The first angel and human soulmate pair since Cain and Sariel. They’re going to be strong, Lucifer.” Gabriel is bonding himself to a human? He knows his little brother slummed it up by taking up with the pagans, but is he really going to turn himself into an abomination?

“Michael is allowing this?” His older brother hated the abominations more than anything else; he made it his own personal mission to completely wipe them out.

“He loves his brother, and he loves the human. He also knows that they may need their strength. Your brother is a very conflicted person. He doesn’t know what to think anymore,” Betty said and reached a hand up. When he just continued to look at her, she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand with her own.

“What else did you see?” There was something dark in her eyes that he couldn’t understand, but her grip was strong.

“I saw your first test. Looks like you’ll get to kill me after all.” He couldn’t stop his slow smile even if he wanted to.

“I can’t wait,” was his reply as he pulled her into a sitting position. Since he was kneeling and she was sitting flat on the floor, she still had to tip her head back to look at him.

“Think you’re strong enough to bring me back too?” His lips pulled down into a pout at those words, and she slowly laced their fingers together.

“You take the fun out of everything.”


He was sitting on the steps that lead up to Betty’s bedroom when she returned from the basement, and he took a moment to look her over. He’s gotten used to seeing her in pretty sundresses that completely conflict with her rough personality, and the clothes she’s wearing now look like they were made for her. This is how she should always look. Tight and dark pants tucked into heavy boots, a black shirt that molds to her form, and a dark look in her eyes. Bottles clinked together in her hand, and he raised a brow at her.

“Want to tell me what’s going on yet?” He really hates being left in the dark. She paused right in front of him, and the smell of strong herbs was clinging to her. Just what is she up to?

“Upstairs.” He raised a brow, which just made her smile and flick her eyes upwards. Maybe he’ll get to kill her slowly. He got to his feet and moved up the stairs, and he could hear her heavy boots on the stairs behind him. He knew that if she wanted to, she could be completely silent. Once they were upstairs, Betty moved around him and over to the bed. Two bottles filled with liquid were set down on the bedside table, and she laid down on the far side of the bed. She pointedly looked at the empty space next to her, and he made a show of shuffling his feet as he crossed the room. The bed shifted under his weight, and Betty looked at his hands before meeting his eyes.

“What’s my test, and what are you doing?” She rolled her shoulders and shifted to get comfortable, and she flicked her eyes over at the bedside table.

“I’m taking a day trip to Heaven. I have some people I need to talk to, ingredients to gather, and so on. Your test is to revive me.” Revive? If she’s going to Heaven, she has to die. He gets to kill her so that she can go to Heaven, and it will be entirely up to him to bring her back. She knows that he will. With her dead, his grace is impossible to reach.

“Explain.” She has a plan, of course she does. Someone doesn’t just up and decide to visit Heaven without coming up with a plan first.

“The darker liquid will put me in a stasis so that I don’t start to decompose, and the lighter one will revive me. Damn thing rarely ever works, always comes with consequences…but it’ll go off without a hitch this time.” Her eyes were dark and her voice was rough, and he could see the tension in her arms and jaw.

“Divine plan?”

“Something like that. You have to bring me back in exactly twenty-four hours. Not a minute later. Seven forty-eight, on the dot. So, how are you gonna do it? I know you’ve thought about it.” Thought about it? It’s the one thing he hasn’t stopped thinking about since he woke up here, without his wings or grace. However, now isn’t the time to indulge. He’ll save that for later when he can really enjoy it. He picked up the plump pillow sitting on his side of the bed, and Betty quirked a brow at him as she smiled. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

“This won’t be the last time that I kill you,” he said and let the pillow hover over her face. He wants to see her eyes, even though she never shows him any real emotion.

“Somehow I don’t doubt that. Alright, Luci, let’s get this show on the road.” The pillow covered her face, and he leaned up onto one knee so that he could push down as hard as he could. After a few minutes, her back bucked up as her heels dug down into the mattress. This might be what she wants, but her body is still going to fight. Good. He doesn’t mind a little fight.

It took several minutes for her body to go still, but he still didn’t remove the pillow. He needs to make sure that she’s actually dead, right? Some minutes later, he slid the pillow away and placed it back where it belonged. The two bottles were still sitting on the bedside table, and he held up the one that looked like it had dark mud inside. Stasis. He slid a hand around Betty’s neck (his handprint perfectly matched the still dark bruises), and he smiled when he couldn’t feel a pulse. He raised her neck so that her head tipped back, and his thumb pushed down on her chin to part her lips. The thick liquid sluggishly moved down her throat with the help of his fingers, and he placed her back on the bed once he was finished. The chain around her neck was gone…his grace was in Heaven, with her soul.

Death shouldn’t look like this. She’s laying against the bed as if she’s napping, not like she just died. She doesn’t look right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Death is messy and loud, not this neat and quiet. It should leave a smear on the universe; it should come with a scream announcing its arrival. Just looking at her makes him feel sick, because it’s wrong. Death should leave an impact, an imprint. Then again, she’s not really dead. She’ll be back tomorrow. Back to taunting him with life coloring her cheeks and torturing him with her every breath. The next time she dies, he’ll do it right. He’ll make sure the whole universe can hear and witness her death.

With her currently out of the house, it’s time to look into a few things. He’s physically bound to her body, so there’s no point in him trying to escape. Where would he go anyway? He has too many enemies out there, and he can’t stand against any of them in a human form. Staying with Betty is the best place for him, for now. Just until he can convince her to return his grace. However, he can do a little research of his own since she’s not here to chaperone. The only sounds in the house came from his bare feet hitting the wooden floorboards, and Betty’s overly large pet lazily raised his head as Lucifer walked into the kitchen. The furry beast is still wary of him, as if he can sense who Lucifer really is. Maybe he can. Doesn’t matter.

The ugly yellow refrigerator was old and sturdy, but he got it to move by steadily pushing on its side with his shoulder. It moved easily once it got going, and he ran his eyes over the large door leading to the basement. There isn’t a doorknob; instead, there’s a keypad. He watched Betty lock the door behind her when he was first brought up, and he carefully entered the same numbers. 8-2-0-6. He has no idea what the numbers represent, and he doesn’t care. The basement door swung open, and he looked down the steps that led into the basement. He’s sure he can find some answers down here about the spells that Betty used to bind him and his grace; he might even be able to find a way to reverse it. He took a step forward and was forcefully pushed back. His feet slid across the floor a few feet, and his eyes narrowed at the empty doorway. He raised a hand and tried to reach past the doorway, but something was blocking him. She blocked the doorway. He got as close as he could but still couldn’t see anything, so he slowly knelt down. Along the doorway, on the side he couldn’t touch, was a blue line. Something to keep him from crossing over.

“That clever witch,” he growled as he stood back up. She must have known what he would try to do and prepared for it. Did she do it because she has something to hide or just to piss him off? With her, either was a possibility. He pushed the refrigerator back into its place, and something fluttering over the freezer door caught his eye. A piece of paper, with his name scrawled across the top. She left him a note.

Lucifer,
Don’t bother trying to get into the basement. Only I can pass through. The house is yours while I’m gone. Feel free to do whatever, and feed Laz for me. Be a good little angel.
B

He’s certain that he’s never hated a being as much as he hates the woman lying dead upstairs, but even he has to admit that she’s good. Too good. With a quiet sigh, he fed and watered the dog. Before leaving the kitchen, he picked up the old radio. He’s never really liked silence. The stairs creaked a little under his weight as he moved back up to Betty’s room, and he plugged up the radio and set it on the bedside table next to her alarm clock. Seven forty-eight, on the dot. Music filled the room as he moved over to the massive bookcase taking up the back wall, and he picked a book at random. The pillow he used to smother Betty was propped up against the headboard so he could lean back against it, and he raised a knee to lay the book against. He’s in for a long and incredibly boring twenty-three hours and thirty-eight minutes.