Gotta Have Faith

Betty’s Heaven is pretty standard, considering exactly who she is and what she’s done. There was a period during her teen years where she was convinced that she was going to Hell when she died. Somewhere between fourteen and fifteen, back when Josie was still alive and around to snap her out of her head. How could she get into Heaven with so much blood on her hands? Some of it came from things that weren’t human, but she’d killed her fair share of innocents by the time she was fourteen. Sometimes it was an accident, another casualty of the life, but most were on purpose. For a purpose. She was shown a time when they wouldn’t be innocent, but the lives she took were still wholly human. What kind of God would allow a murderer into His house? It was Josie that explained it. Of course you’ll go to Heaven, Betty Fay. You’re doing His work, and He will reward you. He will grant you peace.

“Josie!” The little girl’s thick voice, caused by a mild cold, caused the name to come out as Dozie. Even at four years old, she walked with her shoulders straight and with sure steps. Suddenly, a woman appeared from behind a tree and snuck up behind her. The small child squealed as she was spun around in the air, and the woman’s loud laughter blended in with the little girl’s.

This is when she was the happiest. Parked at an empty clearing, with trees running along a water bank, and playing with Josie. The woman really did love her; she must have to have raised Betty as her own. It’s too bad that Josie had been unable to have kids. She’d been a wonderful mother, even if Betty didn’t always appreciate her the way she deserved. None of that matters now. Josie is at peace, somewhere here in Heaven, and it’s not really Betty’s time. That’s why she’s not fully submersed in the memory. She won’t be feeling any peace today. Betty Fay has a job to do.

A dirt path appeared before her, and her heavy boots didn’t stir up a single grain of sand as she started trekking. She only has twenty-four hours to get this right, and she knows where she has to go. The sounds of laughter faded behind her as she began to run, and all she could hear was the pulse rushing through her ears and the sound of her boots on the ground. There’s no time to slow down. She’s on a time limit, and she has to find them. This shouldn’t even be possible; does He really want her to go against every rule he’s ever laid down? Is she being tested along with that temperamental son of his?

She ran for what felt like days but might have only been minutes; there’s no set time in Heaven. Hell has its own accelerated time, so does Purgatory, but Heaven is what you make it. A day can exist within a minute; a lifetime in a second; an hour stretched into a week. Time is endless here, therefore, it’s very confusing. Heavy boots slid in the dirt and a few blades of grass brushed against the steel toes. She’s reached the end of her road, literally. Thick grass is spread out before her, there’s some trees and bushes, and the roadhouse is looming above her. Symbols cover the wood, but there’s still a fluorescent sign hanging over the covered porch entrance. Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

Betty quickly moved into the building, and she pressed her back up against the door once she was inside. Several pairs of eyes, some familiar and some not, were focused on her with laser-like intensity. The entire bar area was quiet, except for the quiet crooning of an old jukebox. Looks like they’re not used to someone just busting in, and she gets that. Normally she’d use a little more finesse, but she doesn’t have time for that. She needs to get this done. While she was looking around, the small sea of people parted for two women to walk through. The older woman had brown hair brushing against her shoulders, and the brown eyes looking into Betty’s own were threaded with steel. The woman standing next to her was younger, much younger, with blonde hair and those same steely brown eyes. A man walked up behind them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and Betty had to tip her head back a little to meet his light hazel eyes. The man stands at a very impressive six-six, so he towered over the two women.

Yes, the Harvelles make a very pretty picture.

“Is that you, Betty Fay?” Ellen’s voice was warm as it carried across the bar to her, and Betty quirked her lips up into a smile.

“The one and only,” she said and spread her arms.

“Betty!” She caught a flash of flying blonde hair before arms wrapped tight around her neck, and Betty reached up to lightly pat her hands against the overly strong woman’s back. She’s pretty sure Jo wasn’t this strong the last time they hugged. Then again, that was nearly fifteen years ago, back when Josie was alive. Jo’s also been dead for going on three years.

“Finally got on the chopping block?” Jo released her so that she could look up at Bill Harvelle, and she smiled at the older hunter. She never got a chance to reply.

“She’s only visiting. Isn’t that right, Hogan?”

“Good to know that whole psychic thing still works up here. Miss me, Barnes?” Pamela’s hips swayed as she walked forward, and the two of them reached forward to grasp each other’s forearms.

“Not even a little.”

“Been quieter with you gone too,” she grinned. She has a lot of history with the people in this room; why is that everyone she’s ever liked is dead? Well, there’s a few exceptions still down on Earth, but they don’t know her like these people do.

“You know where Adam is?!” Ash’s head popped up over the bar, and his hazy eyes were filled with worry. Possibly conspiracies.

“Yeah, he’s alright. We should talk. All of us.” She looked around at all of the people surrounding her, and it was Ellen that nodded everyone’s consent. That must be what Ash was waiting for.

“Just step into my office,” he said with a wave of his arm. Ellen and Bill walked off first, but Jo stayed by her side as she started walking. Huh, maybe she was missed. Pam paused to talk to a blonde woman, Adam’s mother, to assure her that she’d get news on the woman’s son. A moment later, they were all seated at a table in the backroom. Her, Ash, Pam, and the three Harvelles.

Betty first met Bill Harvelle and his new bride when she three years old, right after Josie took her in. Josephine Harvelle couldn’t resist showing off her new little girl to her big brother, and she remembers the way that Ellen hugged her close and fed her cookies until she got sick. Bill and Josie were both hunters, so they always went their separate ways after a day or two. Betty remembers enjoying the visits when she was little; it was like having a real family. She was even there when Ellen gave birth to her one and only child, which is lucky since she went into labor in the roadhouse. Josie wound up delivering the little girl with a little five year old Betty holding onto Ellen’s hand because Bill was on a vampire hunt. Ellen named her daughter after the two of them. Joanna was called Jo, to honor her aunt, and the Beth came from Betty’s real first name. Elizabeth. They stopped by for years, until Josie passed away only two years after her brother.

Seventeen. She’d been seventeen when Josie died, and she cut herself off from everyone. She didn’t want to see the people that reminded her of the woman that was now gone, so she stayed away. She bumped into Ash over the years, accidentally on purpose, to hear news about how the Harvelle women were doing. She retired a year before Ash died, so she didn’t see him at all in the year leading up to his death. As for Pam, well, psychics tend to know about each other. It’s like their own little secret club. They support each other while trying to outdo one another, but they always stick up for their fellow freaks. Pam was by far her favorite psychic around, until the Winchesters got her killed. A Winchester was involved in the deaths of everyone in this room. Even hers, a little indirectly.

“What’s happening out there, Betty?” Pam asked. Here comes the hard part. She can only reveal morsels of the whole truth, because it’s not time yet.

“We’ve got another Apocalypse on our hands.” The table let out a collective groan, except for Ash, who was crowing about how he knew it.

“Settle down!” Ellen snapped out. Bill smiled over at his wife, and the two linked hands on the tabletop. At least someone up here is happy.

“The angels have been confined to the Earth, so they can’t get into Heaven. They can’t even march into Hell. The demons are in a civil war, and the angels have split off into several factions. Purgatory was opened, so the monsters we risked our lives to kill are walking free again. If you thought last time was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“And the Winchesters?” Ellen asked.

“Right in the middle of it all. They’ve got some angel power backing them up, but it’s still going to be a close one. I’m here because they need help.” Something close to it, anyway. Betty’s half convinced that they’ll fail and that the world really will end this time, but she’s always been a realist bordering on pessimistic.

“Is that why they took Adam?” Pam asked. Adam…the youngest Winchester, no matter how much he may hate the title.

“The angels sent him to Earth to protect him, because Michael can use him as a vessel. A true vessel. Don’t worry, he’s safe. He’s on his way to the older two, and they won’t let anything happen to him.” Well, he’s as safe as he can be while running from angels and demons that want to kill him. Or worse. He’s also somehow managed to get an incredibly powerful Nephilim for a sidekick, so he’s pretty well protected. No point in telling them that he nearly died and was going to be cast into Hell, where no angel would be able to reach him.

“What kind of help do you need, Betty?” Bill asked. Jo was quiet and lightly tapping the table with her fingers, and Ash was pounding away at a keyboard.

“A prophet is going to be chosen soon, and he needs to be protected. He’ll be able to set the angels free, lock up Hell for good, and close the door to Purgatory. Without him, there’s no way the good guys will win. They’ve already killed all the other potential prophets. He’s the only one left.”

Seeing that took a lot out of her. There’s always several potential prophets spread across the globe just in case one dies. There’s no contingency plan for what happens when an entire generation is wiped out, and they’re going to need him to can’tknowyetlookawaybettyfay. She can’t see that part; she just knows it’s important. The why doesn’t matter anyway. If he dies, they all die. It’s as simple as that. There’s also no one out there that can truly protect him. Angels are trying to kill him as well as demons, and every other supernatural creature, and a normal hunter won’t be able to get the job done either.

“You didn’t come here to give us the Downstairs Daily. You need something.” Betty met Pam’s once blind eyes across the table, and the other psychic pinched her lips into a small line. “No, you need someone.”

“We’ve played our part,” Ellen said quickly. Betty has seen her death, seen Jo’s. Felt the agony of claws and a sharp blast of heat. She doesn’t want to do this. She has to. (If she doesn’t, she’ll never get to have her peace.)

“I know you have.” Ellen’s eyes darted over to Jo, and the blonde hunter raised her eyes to her mother’s. “It has to be a revived hunter with their soul bound to the prophet. It’ll strengthen them. The only way they’ll be able to die is if the killing blows hit them at the same time, or until He decides it’s time for them to rest.”

“I thought angels were the only ones that could raise the dead,” Ash muttered from behind his laptop.

“They are,” Betty answered. Angels and demons, and it always comes with a price. Always. “However, in special circumstances, it can be done by someone else. Someone human.”

“No.”

“Mom—”

“I said no, Joanna Beth!”

“I have to help!”

“Why you?!”

“Because I wasn’t finished!”

Betty watched as mother and daughter faced each other down, and Bill kept silent next to his wife. This is something they have to work out together. The last time there was an Apocalypse, Ellen had to watch her daughter die. Slowly. Painfully. Jo died bloody, and Ellen can still feel the heat here in Heaven. They both tried to do the right thing, to help the Winchesters and save the world, and they paid the price. Gave their lives and found peace. Found Bill. And Ash. The Roadhouse. It has to be Jo. Betty’s not sure why He decided to pick Jo, maybe to test Betty, but it has to be her. Nearly all the hunters in Heaven are right where they want to be. Their souls have become content and soft, but not Jo’s. Her soul is as bright and strong as ever; she’s pretty much the only one that can actually survive being pulled out of Heaven.

“For what it’s worth, I’ll die before she does. And if everything else falls into place, she’ll have a good life. She’ll be happy. When she comes back here, there’ll be gray in her hair and laugh lines next to her eyes.” It’s a beautiful image, but a blood soaked one is hiding just behind it. If they fail, Heaven and Hell will be overrun with souls.

“I’m gonna grow old?” Jo was looking at her now with a small smile on her lips, and Ellen was flicking her eyes between the two of them.

“Being bound to someone doesn’t make you immortal. Just really hard to kill,” Betty smiled back.

“It’s also volatile and dangerous,” Pam pointed out.

“This time it will work. The pieces fit.” It’s so hard to explain it all, since she barely understands any of it herself.

“I don’t like it,” Ellen said and crossed her arms.

“I know. I don’t either, but I don’t want to watch the entire world die screaming. That’s how it’ll end. It won’t be quick or quiet,” Betty said with a look right at Ellen. The older woman was a hunter too when she met Bill Harvelle; she knows the sacrifices that hunters have to make for the good of the rest of the world. This is something that Betty would never ask for on her own, not of them anyway, but she knows what she saw. She doesn’t want that world to become her reality.

“Still don’t have to like it.” Ellen’s still tense and very obviously worried, but there’s understanding in her eyes now.

“Why don’t you three go talk it out? I need to have some words with Ash and Pam anyway.”

“Sounds good. See you soon, cuz.” Jo ruffled the back of her hair as she stood up, and Betty lightly elbowed the little brat before smoothing her hair back into place. It never mattered to Jo that Betty was clearly adopted; the younger girl always insisted that they were cousins and that was that.

A few moments later, the Harvelles were out of the room and it was a little quieter. Except for Ash’s muttering and banging every time his laptop did something he didn’t like. Pam was watching her with dark eyes, probably trying to get a read on her, and Betty let herself relax. This part isn’t any easier to talk about in the grand scheme of things, but it’s easier for her. She cares about the Harvelles, she’s pretty sure that she loved them when she was younger, so asking Bill and Ellen to say goodbye to their daughter is hard for her. Asking Jo to return to Earth and put herself back in the thick of things is hard to do, because it’s personal. She might have kept away from them after Josie’s death because it’s easier to be alone, but that doesn’t mean she’s forgotten them. This next part isn’t going to be easy in any kind of way, but she knows that she can trust Pam and Ash to do the job.

“What do you need from us, Betty?” She blinked as she came out of her thoughts and realized she was still looking into Pam’s dark eyes.

“I’m not the one who’s going to need your help,” Betty said with a twitch of a smile. Pam’s eyes opened a little wider and then she was smiling too.

“A new soul in Heaven with a job to do. He’s got you working overtime, huh?” Overtime, yeah. Maybe she’s being paid back for deciding to retire and take herself out of the fight. Betty leaned forward and rested her arms on the table, and she felt the metal container hanging from her neck bump up against the table. Definitely working overtime.

“I told you the angels are locked out of Heaven, but I didn’t say how.”

“Gonna tell us now?” Ash asked and looked at her from over his laptop. He’s looking a little rough, which shouldn’t even be possible in Heaven, and it’s because he’s worried. Worried about Adam, the angels, the state of Heaven…everything.

“An angel did a spell in the heart of Heaven, and it cast the angels down.” And one angel was cast up. “A girl is going to come here, named Charlie. Heaven will sing her praise when she gets here, and she’ll be the one to reverse the spell. I need you to find her when she gets here and take her to the heart of Heaven.”

“The heart of Heaven? Where’s that? In the center of Heaven or…?” Pam trailed off, and Betty shrugged. She wasn’t given a map of Heaven, just the words.

“Up and to the left from the center,” Ash mumbled. Pam and Betty locked eyes, and it only took the space of a heartbeat for them to start laughing. Ash startled at the suddenly loud sound, and it took them both a minute to get themselves under control again.

“So you’ll find her and take her there?” Betty asked them.

“We’ll take care of her, don’t worry,” Pam said with a little nod. Good. That’s good. Her job here is nearly done.

“And, Pam? Tell Kate that Adam is going to be just fine, and that she’ll see him again someday.” Betty hopes that will be Adam’s future. If things downstairs take a turn for the worse, Adam will end up like everyone else. Her world is red.

“I will. Thanks, Betty.” She nodded to the other psychic, but she felt a dark pit swirling in her stomach. No one should thank her. There’s too much blood on her skin for her to ever be someone worthy of a simple thanks.


“I still don’t like this,” Ellen said and propped her hands on her hips. The three Harvelles were back in Ash’s office, for lack of a better word, and Betty was standing in front of Jo.

“It’s what she wants,” Bill said quietly. He was standing behind his wife and had both hands on her shoulders, and she reached one hand up to lay on top of his.

“After you’re revived, you’ll be drawn to the prophet. Let your instincts lead you. He probably won’t trust you at first because he’s been on the run, so take it easy on him. After you find him, go to Bobby’s. That’s where the Winchesters are now, and they’ll help both of you. Whatever you do, don’t mention me. You don’t know me, you don’t know who sent you back. All you know is that you woke up on Earth with a memory of a voice telling you to find the prophet. You decided to bring him to the Winchesters for safety, and to find out what the hell is going on. Got it?”

“Got it.” It’s a lot to take in, but Jo’s always been a fast learner. Betty knows that she can do this; Jo’s tough. “So, now what?”

“Now, I just need this.” Betty reached up and tugged on a single strand of hair, and Jo yelped as it was yanked free. The blonde slapped at her arm as Betty laughed, because Jo has always hated having her hair pulled on.

“What do you need her hair for?” Bill asked. Betty pulled on the chain of her necklace and carefully started twining Jo’s strand of hair around the small links in the chain.

“It’s bound to my soul, so it’ll go with me back to Earth. I’ll use Jo’s hair to help summon her soul and revive her.”

“And when will you do that? Revive her?” Ellen asked. Jo’s face was serious now as she looked at her, and Betty answered Ellen’s question while looking into Jo’s eyes.

“As soon as I can. It’ll be morning when I get back, and I’ll do the spell by nightfall.” She’s starting to feel a little light…like she doesn’t weigh anything. It’s almost time.

“Whoa…you’re kinda see-through,” Jo said and poked her arm. Or tried to. Her finger sunk right in, like Betty wasn’t standing there at all.

“Time for me to go. When the time’s right, you’ll see me down there. But until then…”

“Betty who?” Jo smiled as she stepped back towards her parents, and Ash and Pam joined them so that Betty was standing on one side of the room by herself.

“See you later, Hogan.” Betty parted her lips to reply, but it was too late. Everything was fading, including her.


Seven forty-eight.

Lucifer raised Betty’s head off the pillow and tipped her head back, and the light brown liquid easily flowed down her throat. Once the bottle was empty, he laid her head back in the dent on the pillow and leaned away so that he could watch her. He’s barely left her side since yesterday morning; he’s taken time to eat and shower, fed the dog again, but he always returned to her room. He thought about sleeping in his own room, but the house was too silent. Lazarus even slept on the porch outside last night, as if he could sense that there was something wrong with his master and didn’t want to be in the house with her empty body.

Slowly, her chest started to rise. One breath. Two. Three. Her eyes twitched under her lids and her eyelashes flickered, and he waited for her eyes to open. It took a few more slow breaths but then dark brown eyes were staring up at him. She looked confused for a moment, almost as if she couldn’t believe that he actually revived her. He may be many things, but he’s not a liar. He said he would revive her, and he has. He had to revive her, because this death was completely unsatisfying.

“Luci, I’m home,” she hoarsely whispered. For a moment, he heard his brother’s voice shouting the same words.

“Welcome back, Betty Fay.”