"I don't see why we can't just kill the shitty Devils around here and take the kid's Sacred Gear," the white haired Stray Exorcist complained as he languished over a pew.

The darkened interior of the dilapidated church was lit only by the candles on the alter at the back, leading down into the basement levels of the building. The wind howled outside, blowing through the cracks and holes that a more well kept building wouldn't have. A draft from.a particularly strong gust made the candles flicker, and Freed Selzen frowned.

"That's because you're too fucking stupid to think of the bigger picture," an almost childlike Angel admonished him, her foul mouth somehow even more disturbing considering her appearance. Mittelt was a woman after his own heart, Freed thought. If only she didn't look like a kid, he had no interest in feeling like a pedo.

"Eat shit, you shitty fallen!" he bit back without any heat. Out of all his 'compatriots' he could tolerate her the best, even if he did still want to kill her sometimes. She still thought herself better than him, and he was more than willing to beat the shit out of her if she got too uppity.

He was a nice guy like that.

"Anyway, Raynare is still gone, staking out that human with the weak sacred gear that Lord Azazel ordered us to observe. She's going to make her move tomorrow, and the day after we should be getting a hold of that holy nun that got excommunicated. And in anticipation of that…" Mittelt trailed off, pulling out a long box. "Lord Kokabiel sent us an artifact to pin the blame on the Church."

Freed looked at it, interested. He might be bloodthirsty, but he was sensitive to the energies of Angels and Devils, an ability that served him well in his fights. And this box felt particularly weighty, as if it were calling to him gently in the same way a father might talk to his child after tucking him into bed.

Freed had never had a father figure, of course. Having grown up in the Sigurd institute and been raised as a weapon made that a sure thing. For all that he had been taught to revere God, he didn't believe in him. The unanswered prayers and beatings he received left him faithless, and the only thing that ever filled that hole in him was bloodshed.

"Well? Don't hold out on me, what the fuck is it?" Freed asked curiously, getting up and walking over to her. She sneered and lnet out a nasty chuckle, opening the lid to reveal-

A human spine.

"What the fuck kind of artifact is this?" Freed asked, slowly reaching out to touch it.

"I think it's supposed to belong to some saint, but I don't know which one." Mittelt responded dismissively, dropping the box in his hands and turning around. "Like the spine of some no name saint has any way to help us."

Ba-dum.

Freed began tuning her out, his fingers slowly caressing the bones. The tension in the air was palpable, and with it in his hands he could feel the holy power coming from within it. How Mittelt could just not notice it…

BEHOLD

Freed turned around quickly, holding the corpse part in his hands, the box falling to the floor with a clatter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man pass just out of view. He drew his gun and spun back around, trembling as he cradled the spine close to his chest.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Freed shouted, drawing Mittelt's attention. She twisted immediately and formed a light spear, looking for the intruder.

THE LAMB OF GOD

The spine sunk into Freed's body, and he felt a warmth spread through him. It radiated from inside him, heating his whole body as if in an embrace. The holy power that he felt in the bones grew to cover him, and tears began to fall from his eyes. He felt ashamed, as if he was filthy and disgusting and being looked over by-

THAT TAKETH AWAY THE SINS OF THE WORLD

"Freed, where's the intruder?!" the Angel shouted as she looked behind the pillars the Exorcist was aiming at. Freed dropped his gun and swallowed. 'Is this…love?' He thought, bringing his fingers up to perform the sign of the cross, a gesture he hadn't performed in years.

He stiffened as a hand placed itself on his shoulder, and saw that it wept blood from a hole in the center of his hand. And as he turned to see the man's face, he saw.

Though his face was shrouded in gloom, upon the man's head was a crown of thorns.

"For this son of mine was dead and is alive again: he was lost and is found."

His voice made Freed's heart clench, not from fear or confusion, but from shame. It was if the scales fell from his eyes and he saw the world anew. His actions and thoughts were redefined, and he began to whisper a prayer.

"Let your heart not waver. Find me, my son."

"I'll be waiting, Freed."

His eyes rolled up in his head, and the last thing he remembered was Mittelt gasping in shock as a white light filled the room.

Mittelt lay collapsed on the floor, tears falling from her eyes as she beheld her pearly white wings. Freed was gone, vanished into thin air, but the man she saw could only have been one person. For the first time in thousands of years, Mittelt, formerly one of the Grigori, cried tears of joy.

"Father…"