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Chapter Text

Her mother held open the book, resting Charlie's head against her chest. Her voice lulled the child to rest, retelling one of her favourite tales.

"And Gadreel proclaimed, "Hold your ground, brothers, sisters, and those that vary. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take my soul - there may come a day when our strength will fail and falter, where we forsake our allies and ourselves and break the bonds we forged upon these harsh times..."

Charlie tugged at her mother's dress, trying to look at the picture better. She could feel her mom's smile as she readjusted the book, displaying the image of Gadreel in his mighty armour. The two black stripes on the right pauldron had always had her attention. 

The story was her favourite because it was against the gravest of odds. One took it upon themselves to declare war on a fearsome beast, gathering Heaven and Hell to end their tyranny. While he began alone, he soon gathered an army, although his chances were still nigh impossible.

"But today is not that day," Lilith continued with a smile in her words. "An hour of hellhounds and shattered wings, when the age of mortality comes crashing, will not come this day! This day, we fight! By all that you hold dear, be you of mortal means or divine and damned birth - I bid you stand proud, souls of these realms!"

"This day doesn't belong to one, be they heaven or hell bound," Charlie said eagerly, grinning. "But to all!"

"Let us rebuild the realms not as enemies but kin under the same sun and moon - brothers and sisters shared - for the souls passed and yet to be. For the new dawn," she finished, turning the page. "The warriors of all the realms rose with a rallying cry, shouting "death" with pride. They did not call for the end of their enemy but cheered the certainty that they would perish - they knew that if they were to preserve the future, they had to sacrifice theirs."

Her mother kept reading, each syllable tickling Charlie's mind and heart. 

Charlie's fingers trailed the words, enamoured by the tale.

"Why can't angels and demons live together, Mama?" Charlie asked, tracing the image of Gadreel with flanking soldiers. "Gadreel did it."

"Sweetie, it's only a story," Lilith sighed, closing the book before finishing. "It's a noble dream, though."

"But Gadreel was real, wasn't he?" she questioned. "He did go against the big monster."

If Gadreel could do it, so could she. She could change things and make her people happy in Heaven.

"He died, darling," Lilith said, brushing hair from her eyes. "And in the end, his endeavour failed... Maybe someday, Heaven and Hell can be allies instead of enemies. That's not for you, however, my little apple."

Even so, Charlie couldn't just dismiss the attempt. It meant that someone tried. The fact that he failed didn't mean that Charlie would.

She could finish what he started. She could fulfil her mother's dream of saving their people, Gadreel's endeavour to unite the realms, and Charlie's yearning to save everyone from unnecessary hurt. 

There had to be a way to help.

It was a dream that Charlie never forgot, a tale she held to her heart, even if it was slightly embellished. 

Charlie had to do her best. She had to prove to Heaven that her and her mom's dream was true. Souls could be redeemed. Sinners didn't deserve to die again.

The pair of seraphim had seemed reasonable enough. It should've been simple to convince them. Right?

Wrong. 

"It's fucking hilarious you think these losers have a shot. You're either here or you're not, tits!"

Adam. The first man.

A total asshole.

He had that stupid giant grin, laughing at Charlie's yearning to do better. He insulted everything that Charlie stood for, mocking her for his amusement. 

If Gadreel were alive, he'd be disappointed in what Heaven had become. He was a Seraphim like Sera and Emily back then. It was almost insulting that Adam had probably met the fallen hero.

"Though vulgar, Adam speaks truthfully. If there were virtuous individuals in Hell, they would be here by now," Sera said, dismissing any of Charlie's arguments. It was a kangaroo court. "I still haven't seen any evidence that a soul can be redeemed."

Was showing Angel Dust not enough? He followed Adam's stupid little list!

Vaggie was still gone. It made Charlie feel alone and abandoned. So many eyes looked down on her; they disapproved of her attempt. 

Admittedly, it's demoralising to have the people you want to send people to didn't care. 

"See? You've wasted everybody's time! Way to go, blondie!"

His exorcist pal cocked a smirk, nasty and spiteful. 

It irritated her. Why wasn't her girlfriend at her side? Why was Charlie all alone?

Why was her mom gone and not by Charlie's side?

Emily looked at Charlie with sympathy, her wings fluttering nervously. But Sera was firm, her eyes keeping Emily planted. 

It felt hopeless.

Her dad warned her that Heaven never listened...

A bright burst of light burned Charlie's eyes, forcing her to shield them. The effort was in vain, for the presence was far too powerful to withhold. Thankfully, the exposure was brief. 

As she adjusted, she was met with a horrifying but beautiful sight. An archangel in their purest form, the reason why they had to proclaim "be not afraid". A giant vividly gold eye with at least twenty rotating rings, each with hundreds of tiny eyes. Eight wings spread from behind it, pristine and pure.

Their presence was a shock to everyone in the court. While Sera was shocked and afraid, Emily was excited, and Adam was weirdly indifferent, even annoyed.

That eye pierced Charlie's soul, and their gaze told her who it was.

Gabriel.

She didn't know how; she just knew.

"Sera, you did not notify the high hierarchy of this quaint inquiry," the giant entity stated, looking over everyone with their many eyes. The possibly hundreds of eyes then fixated on Charlie, startling her. "Ah, you must be the dear Charlotte. What is it that brings you to this court?"

The focus of so many eyes on her appeared to be for show, forcing Sera to pay attention to Charlie, unlike before. She hardly looked at her beforehand.

For once, Adam was being quiet. That must mean this guy is pretty big. They're a higher rank than Sera, at the very least. Was the high hierarchy a council of sorts?

"Oh, um - I want to solve the overpopulation problem by redeeming human souls and bringing them here. Just because someone is dead doesn't mean they can't change for the better."

Adam scoffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. 

The mass of light, wings and rings seemed amused by her dream. The pair of seraphim were notably quiet, waiting for them to come to a decision.

They glowed and shrunk, changing their shape to appear humanoid. They were masculine and heavily resembled her dad, albeit taller, brunet and had yellow eyes instead of red. 

His wings kept him aloft, hovering above her. His face was old, wise and curious.

"That is quite the idea," he mused, his voice like silk. "You're not the first to have spoken of something similar."

"And that ended up in flames. Big fucking deal," Adam snarked, rolling his empty, gold eyes. "Don't waste your time on this, Gabe. She was about to leave anyway."

"Sera. Did you intend on hiding this from us?" Gabriel asked, ignoring him with ease. 

Charlie envied such power. 

"No, Gabriel. Such matters are below your position," she said, although Gabriel didn't seem to agree. "We didn't want to bother you. You're very busy."

"No matters are below me, Sera," the higher angel stated. "Emily. What do you think of this?"

The small seraphim looked to Sera briefly, then to Charlie. Unlike her sister, she'd shown intrigue in her dreams and beliefs in helping the damned. 

It was clear that the elder of the pair desired her to agree with her, but Em didn't budge. She showed determination in seeing this through, to see if Charlie's dream was possible.

Taking a deep breath and relaxing her wings, Emily answered the grander divine being.

"I think it's worth a try," Emily smiled, hopeful in contrast to her disapproving sister. "We aren't allowed to intervene in Earth, as much as all of us would if possible. We can't guide the living, but surely, we can offer a hand to the deceased to choose the path of salvation." 

"Interesting," Gabriel accepted. "Charlotte. Do you accept that some souls are irredeemable? That some have earned their place in fire and brimstone?" 

What a weird question. Even so, Charlie would answer it.

Someone above Sera and Adam was showing interest in her plan. He might help her. 

"I... yes. A sinner, Valentino - he's a monster. I don't even want to try helping him."

It hurt to admit that. However, she needed to be truthful and honest with Gabriel. 

"As stated before, this isn't the first time such ideas were discussed, but none have actively attempted it from Hell's side. If possible, we must see it through," Gabriel stated, lighting a fire in Charlie's heart.

She couldn't believe it. Someone was listening to her - an archangel, no less.

Sera, Adam and the exorcist were frustrated, but Emily seemed ecstatic. The short seraph was buzzing with energy, brimming with joy.

"Thank you, Gabriel! Sir!" Charlie grinned, her eyes wetting with glee and relief.

His smile was soft and loving, even more than Emily provided. It wasn't fake like Sera's or malicious like Adam's.

"If a soul can ascend, it's prudent that we take active involvement. As Emily is the only one within this court who has attempted to heed Charlotte's proposal, she shall be the one to assist her and represent us."

Oh shit.

"Not Emily!" Sera argued, though quickly composed herself. Her outburst earned Gabriel's gaze. "Emily is too young. Innocent. She knows nothing of Hell and its occupants. She's only ever met the virtuous and best - she's never experienced the worst of humanity."

Charlie would argue that Adam is a perfect example of the worst of humanity.

"If you're going to pick some dickhead to stand around and watch this dumb bitch do the impossible, why not make it Sera's job?" Adam stated, sneering in Charlie's direction. Of course, he'd advocate for someone who already disagreed with Charlie. "She's been to Hell and shit. She already knows how much it fucking sucks!"

Sera nodded, albeit reluctantly. 

In a way, Charlie could see it.

Emily was sweet. She had an air of innocence around her, a naivety that Charlie struggled with often. They were optimists in a world of cynicism.

Seeing the realities of how awful and dirty Hell was might frighten her. 

It appeared like Gabriel was also debating this.

"You raise an excellent point, Adam," Gabriel stated, briefly bringing hope to Sera. "Emily. You shall choose a chaperone to guard you."

The hope in Sera's eyes died, snuffed out. It was replaced with fear and concern for Emily's well-being. Did she want Emily to pick her to keep her?

Charlie almost prayed that she wouldn't.

Sera had no faith in her hotel, even when Gabriel did. If anything, she may encourage its failure. 

It was up to Emily now. She had to pick someone, anyone, other than Sera. Would it be that angry-looking exorcist? One of the jury? Maybe even Saint Peter. 

"I choose Adam," Emily announced.

"Fucking what!?" Charlie and Adam yelled, equally horrified.

She took it back; Sera was perfect!

"I'm not babysitting!"

"I don't want him anywhere near my guests!" Charlie argued, panicking.

She was not going to share the same space as that awful pig!

"Consider it a compromise, dear child of Samael," Gabriel said, undeterred by their protests. "As the eldest in this court other than myself and General of the Exorcist Legion, as well as a human soul, he is perfect to escort young Emily - and he has far more experience with Hell than most of Heaven. Besides, they get along far better than he and Sera. They'd kill each other."

The glare that Sera was giving Adam supported the final assumption.

How could things have gone so wrong? 

In exchange for getting support from Heaven, she was stuck with the worst asshole she's ever met. 

Squeeing with excitement, Emily flew from her high place and joined Charlie, hugging her tightly. 

"I'm so excited!" she giggled.

While Charlie hugged her back, she saw how Adam scowled at her. It was venomous. 

He's going to be the literal definition of a nightmare.

"I can't agree to this, Gabriel. Emily is-" Sera said, panicked.

Emily seemed hurt by Sera's reaction to her choice.

"Your permission is not required. The last time we allowed such power, you initiated the extermination." 

"He suggested it!"

"Adam suggests numerous things daily that have no belonging in our realm. Even if some of them are admittedly entertaining - I was quite partial to the "music battle tournament" idea. The point stands, however. You cannot be entrusted with this matter," Gabriel chastised, unamused by her arguing.

Charlie is naive about several things, but Emily's confusion is evident on her face. Did she not know about the exterminations?

This also got caught by Gabriel. His displeasure turned to either reserved anger or disappointment. Instead of saying anything, he merely gave a single look to the leader of the exorcists. Given how Adam begrudgingly nodded, a look was all that was needed.

The exorcist beside him was seething. She was saying something to Adam, expressing her anger and frustration.

"I look forward to seeing the hotel," Emily said with a forced smile. She seemed distracted by something. "And don't worry about Addie. He's more bark than bite," she added, though that didn't make Charlie feel any better.

Addie?

"Gather your things, Emily. We don't know how long this venture will be," Gabriel advised, his expression softening at her excitement. "Charlotte, your assistant awaits outside. While waiting for Emily, Adam can escort you both to the gates. Do try not to get distracted this time."

"Fuck you, you oversized turkey!"

"Adam!" Sera chastised, mortified. However, Gabriel looked amused. 

"Farewell, child of the morning star. May we meet again sooner rather than later!" the divine being said as he disappeared.

Fuck.

Emily squeaked, excitedly flying to Sera and rambling about something to her. She then left to gather her belongings.

That left Charlie with the very pissed-off "general". She didn't take that title seriously. 

He jumped from his position, using his golden wings to soften the fall. At least they could both agree that they hated this arrangement. His little minion followed, looking angrier than before.

"I should go with you," the woman hissed. "And kill all of those wretched creatures in their sleep!"

Oh. That didn't fill Charlie with confidence.

"It's only a month away, don't go all PMS on my ass about it, Lute," Adam huffed, dismissing her plan. 

While he said it in an incredibly vile way, she was glad he didn't agree to it. At least Charlie knew her name now. 

Charlie wanted to go home, go to bed and scream into a pillow until she was numb.

"Thank you for not wanting to kill us in our sleep," Charlie said sarcastically, showing her disdain. 

"Don't get it twisted, bitch. This is just a stupid game for Emily to play. As soon as it's over, everyone in that hotel is first - I'll save you for last, though," the angel threatened, a vicious promise etched on his face. 

"I look forward to turning you into a new leather jacket!" Lute added, her fingers twitching eagerly.

"That's just gross. And impractical. The vampire barbie hasn't nearly got enough to make a pair of shoes, let alone a jacket, even for your tiny ass."

"I'll prove it to you," Lute grinned, giddy.

"Be sure to wash your uniform after. It already stinks."

He's not wrong. Her outfit stank of death and gore, which seemed to be a point of pride for a psychopath. 

"I like soaking in the blood of my enemies!" she exclaimed, eyes burning with spite and bloodlust. 

"And it fucking reeks. Don't make me hose you down again," Adam warned, finally making her relent. "Besides, I need someone to keep the flock together. The last time we were both gone, Edith nearly ate Petey. Again."

"Very well, Sir. I'll ensure that the exorcists are kept under strict watch," she stated, standing as a soldier would to their commander. "I'll see you in a month, Sir."

"Eh. I give it two weeks. Tops. Later, bitch."

There's only one Peter that Charlie has seen so far. That meant an exorcist named Edith attempted to eat him. She didn't know that the exorcists had names before today, nor that their gruesome faces were masks. 

Lute could be considered cute if she didn't have such a terrible attitude. 

Sneering at Charlie, the woman put her mask back on, leaving the court through a different set of doors. That left Charlie alone with the last person she wanted to be near.

"Let's at least try and get along until this is over," Charlie said, forcing a grin.

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"You plan on being insufferable the whole time."

"Yep," he agreed, popping the P at the end. "I've got better things to do than babysit you losers."

"Babysit? I'm twenty-five!"

"That's fucking adorable. You're a foetus!"

He is the first man, so he's indeed ancient in comparison. That wasn't an excuse to be so childish, though.

Rubbing her hands over her eyes, Charlie pushed the courtroom doors open, struggling not to scream or cry. She couldn't believe how badly this blew up in her face.

She's stuck with him for a month. 

"Charlie?" Vaggie questioned, concerned. "Is it over?"

Why hadn't Vaggie been with her? Part of Charlie was hurt that her girlfriend abandoned her to the divine wolves.

"Shouldn't have started to begin with," Adam spat, trailing behind her. "Thanks to your gal pal, I'm stuck with you bitches."

"What? Charlie, what's he talking about?" she asked, almost pleadingly with her single eye.

"You'd know if you were inside," Charlie grumbled, trying to suppress her hurt. "Gabriel decided it. Emily's coming back as an ambassador, and Adam... he was picked to guard her. We're all stuck together. For a month." 

"No. I can't believe this. He's everything we're against!" Vaggie panted, starting to panic. "Why would they send him!?"

"You know exactly why," Adam said cryptically. "Move out, sluts. I got an exorcist to muzzle on the way."

"We have to get our stuff from the hotel!" Charlie exclaimed. She didn't want to leave her things.

It's doubtful she'd get another chance to get into Heaven. 

"Don't get your bra in a twist - some cherub already moved your things. Overheard Sera order it."

That wasn't polite. Why would Sera do that? While Charlie understood she wasn't staying long, it was hurtful that someone would randomly move their things.

Walking back to the gates felt odd. The virtuous were casting many looks at them, unlike before. 

Numerous eyes watched them, having a silent conversation that Charlie wasn't privy to. They all knew something, almost like a secret they couldn't dare share.

She was confused when their "escort" stopped, glaring above. It took several moments to realise something was descending.

An angel landed before them, causing many of the souls of Heaven to disperse, almost as though they were afraid of them.

Like Sera and Emily, they had six wings. However, they had twin crossing rings that rotated around the single eye they had for a head. Despite this, Charlie could feel the maliciousness coming from the being. It felt worse than Alastor, and that was saying something.

"I̷ ̸l̴o̵o̶k̴ ̷f̶o̶r̵w̷a̷r̸d̷ ̸t̷o̴ ̴s̵e̷e̶i̴n̵g̸ ̴y̴o̴u̶ ̷w̸h̵e̷n̸ ̵y̶o̶u̶ ̴c̶o̷m̴e̸ ̶b̵a̷c̴k̶,̶ ̸p̶e̷t̸," the angelic being sneered. Though the jumble of sounds went over Charlie's head, she could feel Vaggie tense beside her, frightened. "F̴i̶l̵t̸h̸y̶ ̷c̵r̸e̷a̶t̵u̶r̷e̵s̵ ̴l̴i̸k̴e̴ ̷y̶o̵u̴ ̴d̵e̴s̴e̸r̴v̷e̸ ̶w̴h̵a̶t̸ ̸y̶o̵u̵ ̴g̸e̷t̴."

"You should get Deerie to organise your paperwork - the report's been sent to you three times, Sauron," Adam said, cold and detached from the angel's dark aura. "16%, twice as much as last time, per Mikey's orders."

"P̵r̴e̴t̶e̵n̴d̴i̵n̵g̷ ̸w̶i̸l̵l̶ ̸o̷n̸l̶y̸ ̶g̸e̴t̸ ̷y̵o̸u̸ ̷s̸o̴ ̷f̷a̸r̴,̸ ̸p̴e̵t̵.̷ ̸A̵s̵ ̶s̴o̶o̷n̸ ̵a̵s̶ ̸G̷a̴b̷r̴i̴e̷l̷ ̸i̸s̸ ̷d̷i̶s̵t̴r̷a̶c̶t̸e̴d̴,̶ ̵t̸h̵e̴r̵e̶'̵s̴ ̷n̸o̶t̸h̷i̴n̸g̸ ̸t̶o̷ ̶s̷a̸v̷e̷ ̵y̴o̵u̴ ̸f̶r̵o̸m̴ ̸h̸i̵m̸.̵ ̷A̴n̴d̷ ̵h̴e̸'̵s̸ ̴e̵a̵g̵e̵r̸ ̷t̴o̶ ̸t̷e̸a̷c̶h̶ ̸y̸o̷u̵ ̴a̷ ̵l̶e̸s̶s̶o̷n̴ ̷f̶o̷r̶ ̴h̷a̷v̷i̸n̴g̵ ̸h̴i̷m̶ ̶e̶x̷p̸e̶l̴l̷e̶d̷.̴"

"Blaming me for your fuck ups again, Kushiel? I'm flattered. As much as I adore your little moans about your easy-as-balls job, I've got things to do. Some of us do real work. Hard to understand, I know."

"I̴ ̶l̷o̵o̷k̶ ̶f̴o̵r̸w̷a̴r̸d̷ ̶t̶o̴ ̸w̷a̶t̷c̴h̸i̷n̴g̶ ̴h̸i̴m̸ ̸f̶l̸a̵y̸ ̸y̷o̷u̷r̸ ̵s̸k̵i̴n̶ ̷f̴r̵o̶m̵ ̴y̵o̸u̶r̶ ̴b̶o̵n̶e̷s̵ ̵a̷g̴a̷i̶n̴,̵ ̶a̶b̶o̷m̵i̴n̵a̶t̶i̴o̶n̵. H̴e̴ ̵n̷e̵v̵e̸r̵ ̶b̶r̸e̸a̶k̵s̷ ̴a̶ ̶v̸o̷w̶,̸ ̴p̶l̵a̷y̷t̷h̶i̷n̷g̴.̴ ̷I̷t̷'̵l̸l̴ ̵b̴e̵ ̷a̵ ̸s̸h̴o̸w̵ ̵w̴h̶e̴n̵ ̵h̷e̶ ̶f̴u̴c̵k̷s̶ ̵y̶o̵u̵ ̴i̸n̶t̴o̸ ̸n̵o̷t̶h̶i̶n̶g̴n̴e̸s̶s̵,̷ ̸r̶i̴g̸h̵t̵ ̴a̷f̴t̸e̷r̴ ̴t̸h̷o̶s̷e̷ ̴l̶i̸t̴t̴l̷e̶ ̸c̶r̵e̶t̸i̶n̸s̷ ̶y̴o̴u̸ ̴d̴a̵r̸e̵ ̸c̸a̷l̷l̸ ̷y̷o̵u̸r̷ ̵s̵p̵a̵w̵n̶," Kushiel hissed, beating their wings and hovering above them. "A̷s̵ ̷s̶o̶o̶n̶ ̸a̸s̶ ̸h̴e̶ ̷t̷a̷k̶e̴s̷ ̵h̵i̶s̷ ̷r̴i̵g̷h̷t̵f̷u̵l̷ ̴p̵l̵a̵c̵e̷,̴ ̵I̶'̵m̷ ̷t̴a̸k̶i̸n̷g̵ ̶h̴e̵r̴ ̶t̵o̵ ̴b̴e̵ ̵m̵y̸ ̷p̸e̵r̷s̵o̵n̴a̴l̶ ̴t̶o̴y̵ ̸-̷ ̴i̸t̵ ̵w̶a̴s̶ ̶b̴o̶r̵i̷n̶g̷ ̶h̶a̷v̸i̸n̴g̸ ̸t̸o̶ ̵s̴h̷a̶r̴e̷ ̴y̶o̴u̴.̴"

Kushiel flew away, leaving them alone again.

"Fucking asshole," the angel spat, his feathers puffed with anger.

Something told Charlie that Kushiel had said more than Adam was letting on. 

"Do you know what that angel said?" Charlie asked, leaning toward her strangely pale girlfriend. "Vaggie?"

"H̵e̵'̸s̴ ̴g̸o̶i̴n̴g̵ ̸t̴o̷ ̸t̴r̷y̸ ̷s̶o̴m̷e̵t̶h̵i̴n̵g̵ ̸a̵f̸t̶e̷r̶ ̷w̷e̷'̵r̶e̵ ̶d̵o̷w̸n̵.̸ ̸I̵ ̷d̴o̵n̶'̶t̴ ̷g̵i̷v̸e̵ ̶a̷ ̷f̷u̴c̵k̶ ̷a̴b̴o̴u̶t̵ ̴y̶o̷u̴r̴ ̴s̷q̶u̸e̵e̵z̷e̸,̴ ̵b̸u̶t̶ ̸i̶t̷'̶s̷ ̶a̵ ̷r̵i̸s̸k̵ ̶t̷o̶ ̸E̵m̴.̶ ̵D̸o̵ ̵w̵h̶a̵t̶ ̸I̶ ̶t̵a̶u̸g̴h̷t̸ ̷y̵o̵u̷ ̷t̶o̶," Adam said, oddly serious compared to the usual boastfulness and arrogance. 

She wished that she understood the angel's language. 

"Tú haz tu trabajo y yo haré el mío... I'm just processing," Vaggie mumbled, scratching at her arms. "Being trapped with him and all."

"We'll figure it out. Em said he's more bark than bite."

Although uncertain in Emily's belief, she knew him better than they did. 

The look Vaggie had told her that she also didn't believe that. 

Without Saint Peter's joyful singing, the journey was awkward and winding. If left alone, Charlie would easily get lost in such a place. 

Having an escort was, unfortunately, necessary. How could she introduce Emily to everyone if she was stuck in some Heaven back alley?

How are they going to do this? They've got a month to prove to Heaven that this can work.

And Charlie knew that Adam would try sabotaging her somehow. He was too much of an asshole not to try.

That said asshole finally stopped back at the gates, though it was a sight that Charlie wasn't expecting. There was an exorcist perched on the golden tips atop the fence, wings fluttering like a bathing bird, and something was dangling from their head...

It was someone.

Was that Saint Peter?

"Edith!" Adam called, more inconvenienced than concerned. 

Hearing her bizarrely cute name, she turned to face him.

Edith didn't have her helmet on, her mismatched eyes zeroing in on them. She grinned, displaying her maw of fangs and sharp teeth, Saint Peter's pant leg stuck in her maw.

"Please, get her away from me!" Peter whimpered, dishevelled from the exorcist's treatment.

He looked relieved to see Adam. That's not a sentence that should go together.

"Hmm. You look good up there, Petey. You make a pretty fence ornament. Might leave you there."

Still a dickhead, even with someone in peril!

"I'm begging you, Adam. Please! I'll... I'll get you a new guitar!"

Edith grew bored of looking at Adam, her eyes trailing to Charlie and Vaggie. She held intense eye contact, tilting her head slightly in either recognition or curiosity. It made them uncomfortable, the unblinking green and gold orbs burning into their hearts.

Super creepy.

"You promised me that last time, Petey."

"Two!"

"Get me an Ibanez and a Gibson, and it's a done deal."

"I'll do it! Please, she's going to eat me!"

Adam whistled, making the exorcist look at him. She was crouched like an angry cat, wings flaring protectively over her prey. 

He merely crossed his arms, unimpressed with her display. He glared, daring her to argue with him.

Hissing, Edith dropped the poor man, remaining on her perch.

"You're such a pussy, Peter," Adam said, his gaze still locked onto Edith. "You're a big softie, aren't you, bitch?"

Edith screeched like a beast of Hell. Her wings beat against the air, making her hover ominously.

"See you soon!" she hissed, her voice surprisingly youthful and childlike. There was an Irish tilt to it, weirdly.

With her farewells given, the exorcist flew away, leaving Peter to scramble into his post. The poor guy looked terrified at the prospect of her coming back.

Charlie had several questions about this interaction but knew better than to ask. He wasn't going to help her. 

The second exorcist that Charlie met in person was as strange as the first, though less insulting. They had curious names - Lute and Edith. Those names sounded nice and soft compared to the savages that held them.

"I expect those to be here when I'm back, Petey," Adam stated, barely phased by the occurrence.

It must happen often. 

"Why does she have to like me?" Saint Peter cried, raking a hand through his platinum blond hair. "Why me!?"

"Could be worse. You could've gotten Buffy's attention."

The prospect of "Buffy" nearly pushed the poor man into a panic attack.

Heaven is a weird place, Charlie learned. 

"Does this happen a lot?" Charlie asked, worried for Peter.

"Only the past century," the man whimpered, inspecting his tattered pants. Surprisingly, he wasn't bleeding. "I wish she wasn't so... ravenous. And she only listens to him."

"It's my natural charm," the angel mocked, sniggering at Peter's plight. "Stop being a sissy whiney bitch and ask her out already. She's practically begging for your loser twink ass! It's your fault for changing your form to look like this. Told you it'd blow up in your face." 

"I didn't think Edith would love it so much! I just wanted a change - a nice, friendly face to greet the new residents. Looking like an elder was starting to scare them. If I'd known she'd be so into it-"

"You would've changed sooner," the asshole interjected. "Just admit that you wanted a hot bod for a good fuck. At least your balls aren't slapping your knees now."

Peter grumbled, hiding his face in his hands, but didn't admonish the horrid man for his behaviour. Did anyone tell him to be silent?

"One of these days, you will be the death of me."

"I'm the reason you were even alive, so I'm already why you died."

"Always with the smartass comments..."

"It's half of my personality. Get off my dick. Speaking of, do you still need tips? Ha!"

"Please. Never again. I barely survived last time."

"Because you were being a pussy! Women don't like pussies. They like confidence. Someone that knows what they're doing. Be confident, bitch boy!"

Laughing nastily, Adam slapped Peter's back, nearly making him fall from his post. Again, the man didn't push Adam away. He's likely used to the first man's horrid actions.

Weirdly, it meant he would likely get along fine with Angel and Husk. While Charlie doubted the man would willingly interact with anybody, Emily would force him to be in proximity.

Charlie hoped he would avoid them all like the plague and stay away. Whatever made it easier to cope with him being around.

Finally, after an eternity of enduring this waste of humanity, Emily arrived. She had cherubs carrying her things, and a few had Charlie's belongings. So, he at least was telling the truth about that.

Emily hugged Charlie again, visibly excited about the trip.

Her attention then switched to the annoyed head exorcist, hugging him, too. He merely huffed, flexing a wing to show his irritation.

Before Charlie could ask, Adam beat her to it.

"Why didn't you pick someone else?" Adam complained, angry and frustrated. "Anyone else!"

For once, Charlie agreed.

"Come on, Addie. It'll be fun! You said you'd teach me guitar, and now Sera can't interrupt!" Em squeaked, excited. She sat on the taller angel's shoulder, kicking her feet. "You're the rock, and I'm the roll!"

Adam, weirdly, didn't seem bothered by her handsiness. He rolled his eyes, tolerating her antics.

"Yeah, that's damn right, sugar tits," he said, not sounding enthusiastic. 

"Devil horns!" Emily yelled, awkwardly holding her fingers up.

"Wrong way, Em," Adam said dryly. 

"Oh, uh, here!" Emily grinned, properly doing the devil horn sign. "Devil horns!"

She pulled on his horns, reiterating the sign. With a grumble, the former mortal relented.

"Devil horns!" the former human repeated, adding his rocker flare. For some reason, it made Emily giggle.

It was so creepy to see him be almost normal around someone. 

"You look after yourself, Emily!" Saint Peter requested, waving nervously. "And don't bring back anything you shouldn't, Addie."

That nickname again.

"I'll give you a cut if you keep your mouth shut."

"Beezljuice...?" Peter inquired, trying to keep his voice low.

"As long as we get some, we won't say a word!" one of the cherubs chirped, looking like a tiny robin.

"Done deal, whores. Now fuck off!" the man commanded, waving them away.

"Contraband? Seriously?" Vaggie growled, disgusted.

"Don't get your tacos in a twist, bitch. It's all consensual," Adam snickered.

He had a strange smile. Whatever it was, it held a secret, and it frightened Vaggie. It made her usually fiery partner subdued and nervous. That upset Charlie more than the insult.

"Don't insult my girlfriend!" Charlie warned, despite Vaggie's weird lack of reaction.

"Let's cool down a little, guys. I'm sure we'll get along when we get to know each other," Emily said.

It was futile. 

Charlie had already tried extending an olive branch, and he rejected it. 

With a flick of Adam's wrist, a golden portal swirled into existence. It would take her home, but he would follow. The idea of it made her ill. 

He stood there, staring Charlie down, not lifting a finger to help with the luggage. It was left to the cherubs, whom Emily happily flew after. As she had gone through, he didn't have a choice. After throwing a middle finger at them, the angel went through.

"Charlie..." Vaggie whispered, looking like she wanted to say something. She shook her head, turning her gaze away. "I want to go to bed early. All this light... It's too much."

"Alright," Charlie said, gently rubbing her girlfriend's shoulder. "You can say what's on your mind. I'm here for you."

"Maybe later. Ok?"

"Ok," she conceded, walking with her back home.

Immediately, Sir Pentious was screaming, terrified. Little Niffty had that scary look in her eye - one of several, admittedly. 

Husk was glaring, Angel Dust had a gaze Charlie never wanted to see directed at that pig, and Alastor appeared more confused than anything.

While Emily was excitedly investigating the pictures along the walls, Adam leaned against a wall, observing her passively.

The only one happy about this was Em.

"Who is that?" Angel Dust asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that made Charlie ill.

"Guys, meet Emily, the Ambassador Seraph and her guard-"

"Adam!" Pentious screeched. "He's the head exorcist!"

That annoyingly didn't turn Angel's gaze away, but it had Alastor interested.

Bad news.

Either Alastor would get killed, or Adam would get hurt enough to make Heaven punish them for it. 

"I look forward to working with all of you!" Emily grinned, lowering herself next to Adam.

"Laying the ground rules, fuck faces," Adam snarled, scowling at them. "Em, you don't leave this shit stack without me. Freaky spider whore, no fucking her. Miserable cat, no giving her booze. Venison, no deal-making. Snake, stay the fuck away. Psycho cyclops, keep those knives to yourself. You cunts listen to those simple rules, and I don't purge every fucker in this building. Good?" Adam stated - no, he vowed.

He looked almost excited by the idea of doing it, too. 

"Addie!" Emily exclaimed, looking tiny compared to him. She had to fly to be close to eye level. "No killing the sinners!"

He dismissed her desire, however. 

"It's my fucking job to keep you safe. You picked me - deal with the consequences, puffball." 

Charlie wished that she picked anybody else. 

"Don't worry, guys. I'll make sure he won't hurt you," Emily promised, trying to ease the tension.

"The fuck you will. If anything happens to you, I'm killing the snake first," Adam snorted, pointing at Pentious.

"Why me!?" Sir Pentious cried, terrified of the lead exorcist.

"He doesn't like snakes - don't take it personally," Emily brushed off.

"It's extremely personal!" the serpent cried. "He nearly killed me last extermination!"

"Oh. Well. Won't make that mistake again," the man grinned, making Pentious almost cry.

Charlie wanted to scream into a hole. She was fuming.

"How about we all go to bed and try and feel better in the morning?" she ground out, shaking with anger as Adam stuck his tongue out at her.

He was frying every nerve in her body. 

Emily was undeterred by his attitude, her eyes locking onto the bar. Looking awkward, Husk gave a half-assed wave. He didn't care.

As if sensing what Emily would do, Adam grabbed one of her wings.

"That's the ugliest fucking bar I've ever seen," Adam insulted, sneering at it. "A big no, kiddo."

"Can I try any?" she tried anyway.

"No," the man said immediately. "You've got the tolerance of Mel Gibson in a synagogue."

"Not even a little?"

"Nope," he answered, popping the P. "Go pick a room. I'm tired of looking at these harlequin cunts."

"Aww... then, can you help me carry my things?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"What if I make Sera leave you alone for a week?"

"Make it two, and you've got a deal, bitch."

"Done!" Em smiled, grabbing some of her bags. 

Did he always do that? Make bribes and deals to benefit himself while doing basic decent things?

How was this asshole ever allowed in Heaven?

With a grumble in a language she didn't recognise, Adam picked up the rest of her stuff. Despite his nasty scowl, Emily responded positively in that same tongue, unphased.

Charlie felt like she was going to cry.

"What a productive meeting," Alastor said, disturbingly curious. "You brought dinner."

"You're not going near her, Al," Vaggie warned, uncharacteristically uncertain. "He's barely weaker than Lucifer."

That appeared to intrigue the demon more than deter him.

"I like bad boys," Niffty giggled maniacally, her interest piqued. "I want to keep him!"

"Think of it this way - having the big boss exorcist guy here will keep us safe, yeah?" Angel Dust questioned, watching as Pentious nervously slithered under the couch. "How'd you get away, anyways?"

"I lost almost all of my egg boys," the snake sniffled. 

"Look, guys, I'm not happy about this either, but it's what we've got to deal with. Who knows? Maybe if we make him like us, he won't kill us all in a month?" Charlie said awkwardly, knowing it was implausible. 

Husk sighed, weirdly solemn. More than usual, at least.

It had Angel and Alastor's attention, though. They were paying close attention to the feline as he cleaned his glasses.

"What did you gather from that brief interaction, Husker?" Alastor ordered, head tilting ominously.

"Leave him be," Husk warned, bizarrely sympathetic. "Listen to the kid. She sees past the bullshit, too."

Angel wore an expression of empathy, which Adam hadn't earned.

What bullshit was there? He's a terrible person, a horrible human that must've bribed his way into Heaven.

The goodness in her heart held doubt, though. Her dream was bringing redemption to Hell and Heaven, uniting the worlds. He's no different than an insufferable sinner, only with holy wings.

She could try. It'd be futile and worthless, but at least she attempted something.

"Are you going to bed with me?"

"In a minute, Vaggie. I need to process today," Charlie sighed, rubbing her eyes. 

Said processing took several hours and maybe a pity drink from Husk. 

It was an awkward wander back to her shared room with Vaggie. She wanted to cry into a pillow, wishing it had gone far better. 

This was the compromise, though. 

Emily needed someone who could keep her safe. Annoyingly, he'd already demonstrated by keeping her from trying alcohol. 

If, by some miracle, she did get through to that asshole, he could call off the extermination entirely. He must have the authority if he moved the date by six months.

That was almost impossible, however.

It was supposed to be impossible to have Heaven and Hell work together, but Gadreel did it. Even if it fell apart after he died, he still defeated the monster. He succeeded.

She always believed that if he could do it, so could Charlie. 

As she walked through the corridors, she spotted the room Emily had taken. It had a silvery dove imprinted on the door, a little signature of hers. It was cute and sweet. 

Opposing her was, understandably, Adam's. It had a rough guitar sticker slapped haphazardly on the door. It was the opposite of Emily's refined gracefulness. 

"It wasn't so bad," came Em's voice, but not from her room. "Don't be like that, Addie. It'll work out fine."

"You're revoltingly optimistic."

"And you're too pessimistic," Em sighed, the sombreness far from the sweet, sugary sound that Charlie usually heard. "We'll have a try tomorrow. Imogen was confident about where they might be."

"If they're not dead."

"They would've said something if that was true. Cain was resourceful, wasn't he? I'm confident that he's fine. Somewhere. And we'll find him."

Cain. That was Adam's son. He was in Hell?

He was the first murderer! Of course, he was in Hell. 

It gave Charlie an opening, though. If she helped find Cain, she could encourage him to be more active in the hotel. Or, at least, less antagonistic. 

"You don't have to hide when it's just us. I'm not like Sera or Kushiel - and I know that... meany said something today. You've got that face after one of his sympathisers open their big mouths."

Hearing Emily struggle not to swear was cute. But now Charlie had more questions.

"I'm tired, Em. Maybe in the morning."

"Ok. I'm across the hall if you need me, Addie. We could both use this break from the chaos going on upstairs."

"It was all a mistake."

"I don't believe that. I don't think you do, either. Not really. I'll get you in the morning."

Charlie started moving, hoping that Emily didn't realise she was eavesdropping. She felt horrible for doing that. It was wrong.

She understood even less than before. The man in there didn't sound like the abrasive asshole she's met. Is that what Husk was referring to?

The door opened, and Emily walked out, spotting Charlie. She waved, smiling at her.

"Night, Charlie! Thank you for the rooms!" Em said, devoid of the closeness from before.

"See you tomorrow, Em," Charlie waved, biting back the regret at the breach of privacy. 

It's going to be an agonising month.

Chapter Text

Angel Dust tried sleeping soundly, but alas, that never came. It was beyond him, as was the hope of salvation.

So long as Val had a leash around him, he was doomed.

When the exhausted spider felt something nudge against him, he dismissed it as Fat Nuggets. That quickly changed when something sharp dug into his neck, frightening him. Cold, thick weight spread through his body.

"Hurry up!" someone whispered, grabbing at Angel's limp body. "Boss'll kill us if we're late!"

"Or the Radio Demon," hushed another, this one snatching Angel from his bed as the other tied his wrists and legs. 

His ugly feet were exposed. They were like paws from a tarantula, and he despised them. He had no way of hiding them in this weak, pathetic state.

Someone shoved a gag in his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. He was in the dark, alone, and could feel too many hands on him.

Even if he could, what good would struggling have done? They might hurt him or someone like his sweet Fat Nuggets. The only good thing that ever came from Valentino.

He loathed how they tugged and pulled at him, moving quickly through the hotel. It was far too late for anyone; even Alastor had to sleep, contrary to what he wanted everyone to believe. 

Angel's all alone. It's how it always is and forever will be. So long as Val had his soul, Angel Dust could never escape.

The spider grunted as he was unceremoniously dropped, his nose hitting the floor hard enough to bleed. 

"The fuck was that?" snarled someone, a third person. They were female. "Where the fuck is Mordecai?" she hissed, panicking.

"He was just here!" came the voice of the first one, frightened. "Be quiet; did you hear tha-"

"Rocky!?" squeaked the mystery second, scared. 

Angel could hear the rush of wind despite the doors being closed. Where was it coming from?

"Freckles, look out!" cried the girl.

Angel felt hot, fresh blood splattering against him, an indication of one of the kidnappers' demise. Unlike the usual smell of death, however, was a specific scent that only came from holy weapons - the one that caused a final death none could heal.

The woman was next, her cry of terror cut short with a harsh swing of something.

He shivered, scared. Was there a fourth that Val had sent to kill him instead? No, maybe someone like Vox - he was always jealous of the attention that Val gave Angel Dust.

A large hand touched his shoulder, enough to encase his throat if they wished. He felt his body be tugged onto the sofa.

Someone killed his kidnappers to have their way with him. It wasn't the first time. 

Dissasciate. Disappear. Vanish. His body was trapped, but Angel could retreat into his mind and go somewhere far away.

Warmth spread over his body, different from the sensation of heat, blood or cum. It was... new. Strange. The smell of holy metal burned his nostrils.

Fuck.

He's going to die.

They're going to kill him and use his corpse as a toy. So many had threatened to do it.

His bindings were broken away, and the gag and blindfold were removed. Did they want him to fight? To cry or to see his eyes when he finally croaked?

"You done?" snarked an annoyed but familiar voice.

Angel Dust finally opened his eyes, meeting a golden pair framed by glowing wings, like the gates of Heaven themselves.

Right. The leader of the exterminators was in the hotel now. 

The said angel stood there, looming over him. Being so close, he had to be taller than Valentino. He could even be twelve feet tall.

Angel Dust looked at himself, finding no blood. The drug in his system was gone, too, as if banished from his body and soul. 

His mismatched eyes looked over the floor, finding what remained of his would-be captors. It couldn't have been a few seconds, and they were erased like nothing. 

Adam left Angel Dust to compose himself, heading to the bar. In his wake, the piles of dead and the nasty blood were set alight by golden flames unlike any Angel had ever seen. They burned away the remnants as though nothing happened at all.

Niffty would be jealous of such efficiency.

"Gonna take a wild shot in the dark; it's that weird moth bitch that organised this," the angel said blandly, looking through Husk's alcohol. "Fuck sake. There's nothing good here."

Angel Dust observed him, his hands shaking from the attempt. 

It was terrifying. It's been a while since Val did something like that. Last time, though, Angel didn't have, well, an actual angel to save his ass.

He had to hide with Valentino during the exterminations. It was what he signed his soul away for - protection and a chance at stardom that life never would've provided. There was no place for a gay man in the thirties and forties. He never fit in, not even in the criminal underworld.

He could be a loser and blame Adam and his exorcists for pushing Angel to make that decision, but no. He made his choice. He accepted that it was his fault a long time ago. 

It's his fault that Charlie almost got hurt or worse. It was a miracle that she was immune to his pheromones.

"Valentino," Angel named, hate and pain burning in his throat. "He ain't happy that I'm livin' here."

"I saw. Charlie used you as an example during the court hearing - we watched you tell the moth to go fuck himself. You nearly cocked it up for her." 

Charlie believed in Angel enough to use him, not Pentious, as an example of redemption. They saw his actions during the court and watched as he rejected Val. They must've seen him take care of Niffty, too. 

Husk was right for him to be cautious. He had no idea he was being watched, granted, but Angel was still the first in this project. It had enough potential that even some fuckers in Heaven gave it a try.

And he nearly ruined it by drinking. He was going to take a load of drugs with Cherri, which would've looked far worse for her. 

Were they still watching him? It's the first time he's ever felt Heaven's eyes. They never cared before.

Wait...

"Hey, is there someone called Molly Calasso up there?" Angel Dust asked, his heart fluttering. "Blonde girl with a lisp and weird phobia of frogs and chickens?"

"I know her, yeah. She's a friend of Saint Peter's and shacked up with one of my girls. That must make you Anthony."

His sister made it. The only good part of his mortal life made it to Heaven, where she belonged.

Tears burned in his eyes, relieved. His twin made it. Meanwhile, he, Arackniss and their no-good father were damned.

He wanted to be with her again. 

A strange light appeared before him. It was a small sphere and... it showed a woman. She had a spider theme with four legs and four arms, her bright brown eyes detailed with three cute spots along the sides like an angel's kiss. She was with a blond twink, presumably Saint Peter - isn't that guy meant to look old? - and an exorcist.

The exorcist leaned past Peter and kissed Molly on the cheek, lovingly nuzzling into Molly's wild hair. She was bisexual and never got the opportunity to explore it in the living world.

She was safe to explore it up there.

Even if she picked an exorcist of all people to pick as her partner.

Seeing her twin after so many decades was a blessing he could never repay.

"That's Shiloh. It took her for-fucking-ever to muster the balls to ask Molly out. Almost did it for her, the shy bitch."

Finally, the angel had found something to drink, though visibly dissatisfied with it. He bit through the top, shattering the glass and began downing it in a single go. It was admittedly impressive. 

Husk's going to like him.

"Thank you. For... all of this," Angel Dust said, observing the mysterious entity.

"Don't flirt with me, and I'll show her more. Deal?"

"Deal," Angel answered immediately, seeing no downside to such a thing. "Do you shake on it like Alastor or-"

"I don't do contracts and only negotiate what's possible. Otherwise, there's no fucking point, and it wastes everyone's time. You haven't got much to bargain with." 

"I got drugs?"

"I was the one that invented weed smoking. Tolerance is too high for the pussy shit you got down here," he dismissed. "And hide your stashes better - I've spotted five already. Unless you want dumb and dumber to find them and confiscate them like fucking idiots."

That was a confusing and conflicting set of words. The only assistance with his addiction from Charlie was to take them away; he's gone into withdrawals several times, and it wasn't pretty. He got mean when he couldn't get his fix, and he hated that.

Adam's literally from Heaven. Why hasn't he taken the drugs away or even destroyed them if he's supposed to be all holy and whatever? Why would he call Charlie confiscating them stupid?

And the man casually admitted to having an addiction, or at least a past one. Did Heaven not care about that? Would they not care if Angel Dust was a crackhead?

"You won't take them?" it sounded more pathetic than he intended.

"The body, even a dead as fuck one, mistakenly thinks that it needs that shit to survive; removing it all at once sends it into a panic - don't need to give you the details, you already know this shit," Adam grumbled as he grabbed another bottle, thankfully not patronising Angel. "Got methadone or buprenorphine? Maybe codeine?"

"I've tried those, but they don't get me fucked up, so no."

"They're substitutes, dumb cunt. Something to push back withdrawals while you taper off the hard shit."

"How do you know so much about this?"

"Now and again, some dickhead gets the bright idea to make drugs upstairs - I'm usually the one sent to deal with it. The angels are lazy cunts. Anyways, sometimes my girls get curious down here and fuck with stuff they shouldn't, and I got to get them off it. Shiloh had a crazy opioid issue for a while - that was a pain in the balls. What she had, which you don't, is actual support."

"Not entirely. I have Husk. He's trying to help me."

"One person's better than fuck all."

Husk understood. He struggled with addictions and also lost his soul - they were in the same shit sandwich.

They must all look like children compared to Adam. They're certainly smaller.

"With how Charlie described ya, I wasn't expecting you to be all-knowing and stuff," Angel Dust said, curious. "She kinda made you out to be a dickhead idiot. No offence intended from me - I'm not going to insult the guy that saved my ass."

Possibly literally, too.

"You idiots don't know a thing about me. You know the bare minimum about "Adam from Eden", but that was nearly two hundred thousand years ago. Me? You haven't a fucking clue."

"We're stuck together for a month. I don't mind finding out," Angel shrugged, observing how those feathers flexed in those giant wings. They were in pristine condition compared to Husk's. "I'm glad. Not about that kidnapping shit, but that I got a moment with you, and I got to see Molly. Having a scary as fuck rockstar angel around is pretty cool, too."

"I know. I fucking rock."

Angel Dust wears and uses a mask daily. With a few nudges from Husk, he was learning to spot them.

They might be more similar than he thought.

"By the way, what'd you use to fuck those guys up?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I used my favourite guitar," the angel smirked, summoning a battle axe guitar from the aether. "Pretty fucking cool, yeah?"

"What kinda of songs can you do?"

"I've dipped my dick in all genres, but rock and metal are my jam, especially rock. If Miss Princess thinks she can mute the tunes, she's got another thing coming!"

"Looking forward to it. I can backup dance."

"Bitchin'. Without Lute, I need someone who can throw ass like it's an Olympic sport."

They're going to get along just fine.

Lucifer shot out of bed, clutching his chest, his wings flared nervously.

He knew that sensation, that aura. He felt that once a year, and it struck him every time. It reminded him of better times and others that were so much worse.

It was a month until the extermination, so why was he here? He's not supposed to be in Hell!

Panicked, Lucifer conjured an all-seeing sphere. He was out of practice with the spell, but he saw it.

Adam is in the hotel. The first man was drinking a bottle that was too weak to affect him; it was a comfort thing. What the fuck was he doing there?

Lucifer didn't even consider putting an outfit on. He was panicked and worried. What the Hell happened? He tried calling Charlie, but she must've been too busy.

But if he went over there... he'd have to talk to Adam. He struggled to do that, even during the Realm Revolution. 

Especially during that.

The cost of war... it's a price with no estimate. 

What is there to do? The King of Hell stood still like a statue, once glistening armour tainted with dirt and blood. Bodies from both sides lay strewn across the once beautiful field, the ruins of Eden decorating the wasteland. Never in this conflict could they have fathomed something like this being possible.

Lucifer looked upon the ending of his world.

The destruction of everything he held so dear to his fragile soul.

As an archangel, Lucifer had no concept of loss. It didn't exist. But when Eden came to be, he lost Mael, the one who gifted him with a soul in the first place. The losses kept coming and compiling.

It was never like this, though.

Beelzebub was silent. Her wings were still, unmoving, and her usually beautiful hair and tail were dulled to an ashy grey. They no longer held the colours of the wind.

Sera was silent. Her silvery eyes held no sympathy or empathy, but she knew this hurt them. She'd never grasped the concept of humanity. Fortunately, she wasn't so detached that she joined The Grand Voices and followed his ideology. 

He never intended on getting involved. It wasn't Hell's place to engage in the conflict - if they wanted his opinion, they shouldn't have turned their backs on him.

But his wife and... they disagreed. They proclaimed that Heaven was a mockery of what God had created it for and that those in charge were the antithesis of virtuous and righteous.

The Arch Council would have brushed them aside if Adam had not joined them. With him came Jophiel and Gabriel. And thus drew a line in the sands of time and eternity, the beginning of the end of what they once knew.

War was only declared once the name of Gadreel was uttered. The Angel of War. The Righteous Hand of God. Six gold and pearl wings spread wide, calling forth the realms to take fate into their hands and end the needless hypocrisy and unjust ways.

When he announced the death of unfairness and corruption, Lucifer's life couldn't resist. His wife and... they joined. He wouldn't abandon them, so Lucifer gathered the sins. All seven of them followed.

Many had perished, either erased or fed to the malicious entity of Roo. He'd known some and mourned their demise.

He was unprepared...

So, the mighty King of Hell, the former Light of God, the Morning Star, revealed craven. He stood still. He didn't have the strength to move, to breathe...

Where Lucifer faltered, Lilith was there to take the mantle, and her cry shook the foundation of their reality. It was primordial, ancient, as angelic as it was demonic. It broke Lucifer's composure, though only just, allowing fluid to fall from his eyes like the first drops of rain.

Sera said nothing. She provided no comfort, for the concept was foreign to her. 

He wasn't strong enough to embrace his wife as she fell, the ground cracking under the weight of her anguish. It was a fall that hurt more than when they were cast into Hell.

Beelzebub offered a hand of comfort, her gauntlets creating a soft ring against Lilith's right pauldron. 

"Get the fuck off me!" the first woman shouted, throwing the sin of gluttony's armoured paw away. She hugged herself, shaking as bile ejected from her mouth.

Lucifer's sister, Beelzebub, the former Seraphiel, Guard of Metatron, could do nothing. The one that Sera was named after knew not the heartbreak.

He felt the eyes of the other five far behind them, unable to provide what they needed - what they could never have.

Barely audible through the song of despair was the descending of strong wings belonging to a better man - what Lucifer could only dream of being.

What man couldn't be there for his wife? For... his son?

Lucifer felt the presence join his side.

The only one that had even an inkling of what burned in his and Lilith's hearts.

"I'm sorry," was all Adam could say, exhausted and battered from the battle to retrieve Damian's remains. "I wasn't... enough."

It was bullshit. He knew what the first man was doing, giving Lucifer something to be angry at, to blame for this. 

"Will it go away?" Lucifer struggled, his usually chipper voice weak and pathetic. "Will this ever end?"

He was too weak to save his son.

"No..." the other man admitted, crushing what remained of Lucifer's strength.

He would've fallen if the man beside him hadn't extended his wings, pulling against the far larger man's body. Armour clacked together, the final bell of Lucifer's resolve. 

Wings once gold were tainted with black and red, dirt sticking between the feathers. They cradled a grieving father's scream, a call of pain and for retribution.

For his head to decorate his throne.

His baby boy's body lay cold beneath Gabriel's cloak. The former owner of it remained knelt beside the corpse, regret in his eyes, for his healing power hadn't been enough.

The only thing that would bring even a sliver of peace to Lucifer's growing rage was Metatron's soul - it was owed to him. To them.

His pride and joy were snatched from him, and Lucifer would repay in kind.

"Get Gadreel. I want Metatron's fucking head on a pike!" Lucifer snarled, rage oozing from him.

He didn't care how he shook against Adam's body, only that he needed vengeance.

It was a terrifying, violent time. They never got past losing Damian; they couldn't bear to utter his name or keep any belongings of his. It was too painful. 

Charlotte had no idea about her elder brother. They never wanted her to. 

Losing him had destroyed them. It took over a thousand miscarriages for Damian to be born, so they rightfully assumed he would've been their only child. But, another thousand later, Charlotte was born.

Their perfect little girl.

He could admit that they went overboard, sheltering her from everything. It affected Lilith deeply, causing her to isolate Charlie from everyone, even Lucifer. Sometimes, he wondered if she blamed him for Damian's death.

It made Lilith's departure all the more agonising. What she wanted to do... it can't be done. It shouldn't. The fact that she even tried last time was horrible, regardless of her grief.

Lucifer pleaded with her to reconsider, but she would have none. She couldn't rest while he was still alive somewhere.

With Adam in Hell, it could cause issues. 

The angel isn't doing anything, though. He isn't harming any of Charlie's little friends, and Razzle and Dazzle seemingly didn't react to him. Did Charlie make a deal of some kind?

Or...

Did she do it? Did she do what Lucifer never could?

After the war, Adam gave up. The light in him was darkened, that admirable spitfire snuffed. He stood amongst the crowd when they'd surrounded Gadreel's armour and was the first to leave. 

Adam wanted it smelted into nothingness, the most drastic of the proposals on what to do with it. But Lucifer?

Lucifer kept that armour. He kept many things he shouldn't have.

So many of those things are now considered artefacts of a war that a majority had no idea happened.

He still remembered taking Charlie into his hidden trove of majesties. He'd shown her the armour and watched it light up her eyes. Once upon a time, Lilith and Adam had the same in theirs, but Metatron took it away.

Metatron took so much from them. 

If Charlie reignited faith in Adam, then perhaps her dreams weren't impossible. She'd already inspired Lucifer to at least try again. 

His beautiful girl had all of their stubbornness and determination. If Adam was there to help, she couldn't be in better hands.

He's a giant asshole nowadays, but he hadn't always been that way. Once upon a time, Lucifer had been proud to fight next to him.

He still was...

Lucifer will go to the hotel, but when everyone is awake. They can elaborate on the situation for him. Maybe he could hear it from Adam himself.

With Lilith gone, he was the only one who understood Lucifer. Even if the former pride of Heaven had... deteriorated over the centuries. The army of ducks was evident enough of that.

He needed someone to talk to. An equal who knew what losing a child was like and how it felt to give up. 

Hopefully, Adam wasn't still fuming about last time. Knowing him, though, he would. That's alright, though.

Lucifer preferred it when he was mad.

He had an idea of what he wanted to do. One that would not only make Adam mad but in that playful way he enjoyed. 

This will be fun.

The beginning of Hell began with the quack of Charlie's alarm clock, one of the many bird-themed gifts from her unique father. 

It took three tries before she finally silenced the device. She saw that her dad had sent five calls, all of which she'd missed. She felt sad about that, but yesterday was so much. She needed the deep recharge.

Her dad would lose his mind if he knew Adam was here. She doubted either would want to see the other. 

What was she supposed to do? How could she do this? It'd never felt so daunting before.

Beside her, Vaggie stirred, looking equally as exhausted. Her girlfriend's beautiful eye shone like a thousand suns, lighting Charlie's darkest hours. 

"Ready for a big day?" Charlie smiled, trying to put her partner at ease. "It's going to suck."

"Yeah. But I'm with you, Charlie. Always. Even if it scares me... I don't know how you can be so brave despite this."

She'd hardly call it brave. She was stubborn, the same as her parents, and a mighty dreamer. 

"Me neither, but I'm glad you're with me, Vaggie," she smiled, softly kissing her girlfriend. "Do you still have a headache from yesterday? I know the lights bothered you."

"It'll be fine, Charlie."

"Don't overdo it. I got to look after you, too, don't I?"

"Thanks," Vaggie smiled, sitting up slowly. "Do you want to go ahead? I have to do my hair - you know how it is."

"Yeah, sure; I'll make waffles for you," Charlie smiled, hopping out of bed. Her hooves hit the soft carpet, and she was already getting dressed.

Today was a new day. Hopefully, Adam would be lazy and sleep in and ignore everyone.

Having Emily was going to be fun, at least. 

It only took her ten minutes to get ready while Vaggie worked on her hair. She was ready but wouldn't leave without giving a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Maybe Charlie should see if Emily is awake yet? If she isn't, it's probably from travel; it's daunting if you're not used to it.

Charlie's gone to all the rings to hang out with her aunts and uncles or the Goetia - when they aren't busy, of course!

Em? She's never left Heaven; it didn't have layers like Hell did.

It was only correct as a new business partner to check on her! Perhaps she needed a lie in, something to help her get acclimated to Hell.

She should know better than to expect anything to go smoothly, however. When Charlie arrived at the floor Em had chosen, she thought a stranger had broken into the place. 

Charlie almost didn't recognise him, but those golden wings and that sneering face were unmistakable. She'd never seen him in anything besides that white heavenly robe, which didn't fit him.

His style was punk rock, black with red highlights. His leather jacket was adorned with several metal studs, spikes and a chain connecting the right "pauldron" looking thing to the left lower pocket. His jeans were torn at the bottom with similar decor, and his boots looked heavy. 

What had Charlie's intrigue, however, was the tail that waved behind him. It didn't look natural - the fur was dark brown with barely visible stripes. On the end were those typical golden feathers that fanned almost like a bird. It had a bracer-like attachment on the back, studs creating the same symbol as on those robes.

He honestly looked like he was a natural resident of Hell. Perhaps that was the idea - keep people from realising the leading exorcist was hanging around. 

Adam was still heavy around the middle but was much broader than she expected. Despite the fat, there's a hint of muscle beneath the softness. 

It didn't look like it belonged in Heaven. Did he make it himself?

"Addie! I'm done!"

The angel made a mild gruff as he awaited Emily. The seraphim jumped out of her room, showing off a far sweeter style. She had a cute dress that Charlie imagined a cottage lady would wear, with adorable little shoes and a sunny hat. It was the opposite of what Adam was wearing.

She looked up at him with a giant smile, excitedly showing the dress off.

"Not too big?"

"Fits perfectly!" she exclaimed, giving a twirl. "I love it!"

"Been meaning to give it for a while, but Sera's been all anal about "formal attire" lately," he huffed, annoyed at the thought of the seraphim. "Now. Before we start this bullshit. Where do you go if you feel unsafe and you can't find me?"

"The heaven embassy."

"And if anyone tries anything, what do you do?"

"Go for the balls or the eyes!"

"Atta bitch. Wait, meant to give this yesterday," he continued, showing a knife made with angelic steel. It had a pretty design, but something about it was familiar. "Go for the junk, throat, eyes and arteries - got it?"

"Yep!" she grinned, carefully taking the knife. It looked giant in her hands compared to his.

It glowed briefly before disappearing. 

Charlie decided to make herself known, clapping her hands and awkwardly waving at the pair. She didn't appreciate how Adam rolled his eyes but liked that Em waved back.

"I'm looking forward to getting to know everybody!" Emily said, her wings puffing behind her. "How about we go out somewhere? A neutral ground since this is their home and all. Don't want to make them too uncomfortable."

"Maybe they'll have decent alcohol. The stuff here is weak as fuck - not weak for you, little shit. A foetus would drive you under a table."

"Can I at least get a coke? Not a diet one."

"Diet ones are ironically less healthy, but does Sera listen to me? No! Fucking bitch. If that stick goes any further up her ass, she'll be a flag," Adam grunted, his tail hitting the wall. "Fuck sake!"

It's like he isn't used to it. Weird.

"That's not a terrible idea, Em! Yes, we can make a wonderful day of it!" Charlie smiled, ignoring Adam's comment about Sera.

He isn't wrong, though.

A trip into the city and having a pleasant meal should make things smoother.

Now, they have a lovely, pleasant stroll to the lobby. 

No. She knew that was impossible.

"Oh, by the way, your security is ass," Adam insulted, meandering behind her and Emily. "Like, seriously. You don't even lock the fucking doors."

"What if someone wants to come in? We can't shut everyone out," Charlie said, not understanding his annoyance. However, Emily was paying close attention. "If it's about Emily, she's right across from you. She's safe."

"It wasn't her that needed saving last night," the angel said cryptically, confusing her.

What did he mean by that? She didn't believe that he saved anyone, but he insinuated that she left one of her residents in danger. 

She tuned the man out as Emily conversed with him, comparing the amenities to Heaven with sugary joy and intrigue. She had a good view of the hotel so far, at least. 

Whatever made it easier to cope.

When Charlie entered the lobby, she was happy to see Angel Dust and Husk were already up. However, she noticed a new, mysterious gash in one of her walls; it looked like someone had taken an axe to it. 

The spider demon was oddly happy to see the giant and waved at him.

Sweet Emily waved back, not knowing what he was so happy about. 

"I think it fits if we give big man here the Head of Security job!" Angel Dust announced, grinning. "Seriously. It's a good thing you're a damn insomniac!"

"For you, maybe," the angel said, already on his way to the bar. "I'm finishing that "Verosika's Vodka" or whatever the fuck it's called. Gimme."

"That's a bit much this early," Husk commented, but he got it anyway.

"For you pussies, maybe. I'll have to introduce you to the real hard shit - the kind that gets archangels off their tits."

Husk's ears perked, eager to hear more.

Well. At least they're getting along.

"Did something happen last night?" Charlie asked, worried about the spider demon.

"Yeah, Val sent some chumps to kidnap me, but they chose the wrong fucking time! The big guy over there killed four people in, like, a minute. His guitar is a battle axe! Super cool. He even helped me figure out a tapering schedule."

Angel had been in danger. Strange people broke in and tried to hurt him.

If Adam hadn't been here... what wouldn't happen? 

She would start locking the doors at night. Her residents deserved safety. However, there was another matter that the porn star mentioned.

"Tapering? What's that?" she asked, confused.

"Oh, that's another term for weaning off something, usually in the context of addiction. Addie taught me all about that kinda thing to help with my job - keeping the virtuous happy in a way that doesn't harm them," Emily elaborated. 

She felt like an idiot.

Charlie's trying her best to help people, but what did she know? There was a reason nothing had worked for five months.

As much as he irritated her, she should take advantage of what she had.

"Don't be hard on yourself," Angel Dust said, noticing her change. "Some of the exorcists developed problems, and he had to sort that out - he's been through this kinda thing before. You're new to this. It's hardly worth beating yourself up about. Inexperience doesn't mean you're an idiot."

"Angel's right. But while Addie's older and more experienced, you've got passion," Emily continued, patting her back comfortingly. "It's a good thing that you're trying to do. Gabriel believes in you, and so do I."

"I just want desperately to do the right thing. I want to help, but I don't always know how."

"Admitting that you don't know everything is a big thing," she smiled, those cute wings flexing. "We're going to make mistakes, but that's how we learn."

Yeah. She's just got to hold her head high and learn from this.

Lock the doors at night and try to learn more about things like addiction. 

Finally, Vaggie came to the lobby, her hair looking majestic and beautiful. 

"How're you feeling?" Charlie asked, holding her girlfriend's hands. "Better?"

"A lot, thanks," Vaggie smiled. "Gracias por su comprensión."

"Te tomaste tu maldito tiempo," Adam said, smirking at the annoyed woman. "Relájate, perra. No he dicho ni una palabra. Ella se enterará si no lo haces, sin embargo."

"¡No quiero que lo sepa nunca! ¡Ella no me perdonará por lo que hice!" she hissed, growing more frustrated with every moment.

Meanwhile, Adam leaned back, his smirk only growing.

"¿No has estado prestando atención? Esa zorra encontraría la forma de perdonar al austriaco con ese estúpido bigote. Sólo díselo y acaba de una vez. Será más fácil viniendo de ti que de una puta cualquiera que te reconozca."

"When were you gonna tell us he knew Spanish?" Angel Dust asked, leaning towards Emily.

"Oh, because Adam is before the Tower of Babel, he knows all languages. He does Spanish and French the most, though," Emily explained, almost proudly. "He taught me some French."

That meant Mom knew loads of languages, too. That's incredible.

Her dad spoke French sometimes. It was a little cute.

"Hey, Adam!" Angel called, gaining the angel's attention. "Ti devo una bevuta violentemente forte!"

"Damn fucking straight," the angel agreed, understanding Italian perfectly.

Why didn't her Mom teach her to speak French or Italian?

She learned a handful of Spanish thanks to Vaggie but couldn't roll her Rs. 

Finally, Charlie notices that someone other than Alastor and Pentious is missing.

"Where's Niffty?" Charlie asked, concerned. "She's always with us."

"She's not gonna get up for another few hours," Adam shrugged nonchalantly. "Little chain chomper was quite explicit about that."

Vaggie made a face of both disgust and disappointment.

"It hasn't even been a day, and you've already fucked someone?" she growled, shaking her head. "You're awful."

"It's what I was made to do. Get off my dick, Vajjie."

"I can't believe you went for it. She's insane," Husk commented, shaking his head. "She's legitimately insane and not in the fun kind. Not that there is one." 

Adam shrugged. 

There are pros and cons to having the asshole around. Hopefully, he wouldn't hit on anyone.

Come to think of it, Adam hasn't hit on her or Vaggie, not even teasingly. He didn't do that with Emily or that exorcist, Lute. Did he only do it to people he was attracted to? Was it out of spite? 

It wasn't an issue to go for Niffty, so what was his reasoning for ignoring them? She wasn't arguing! The idea of him hitting on her was disgusting, but it's still odd.

Is it because he knew her Mom? That didn't explain Vaggie.

It could've been more subtle, and Charlie hadn't caught onto it. He might've done it while speaking Spanish.

She's probably thinking about it too hard. 

"Look, guys, we'll have a lovely morning at a cafe to settle into the new arrangement. It seems some of us have already started, which is great!" Charlie announced, forcing a smile.

The Princess noticed a little black tail poking out from the couch that Angel was using.

Is Sir Pentious hiding under the couch again?

Charlie got to her knees, finding the snake attempting to look small. She was joined by Emily, who waved at the terrified serpent.

"I like your scales," Emily complimented, offering a hand. "Have you shed recently?"

It was enough to coax the snake out, albeit only slightly.

"Yes - a very unpleasant process," Pentious hissed, extremely nervous. "Thank you, Miss Emily."

"Em's fine. Or Emmy. You don't need to be scared of Addie. He has a phobia of snakes," Emily assured him, guiding the snake into the open. "So long as you aren't a threat, he should only give grouchy glares."

"Very grouchy," the said angel emphasised.

No lie there.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Everyone's going to be terrified of him," Vaggie said, visibly uncertain. "And Emily doesn't know the area."

"If I get lost or feel in danger, I go to the embassy," Emily recited with pride. "It's perfectly fine, Vaggie. Besides, I have protection," she continued, showing the dagger.

Up close, Charlie could understand why it was familiar.

It was Equinox. The Equinox!

The dagger that Gadreel had used during the Realm Revolution. The one he used to cut out the traitorous Michael's right eye!

How in the absolute fuck did someone like Adam get his nasty paws on an artefact like that?

Did it mean that Adam knew the revered Angel of War? He must have.

Since he's "General" of the extermination, was he part of that war? It was certainly possible. What side did he choose, though? 

He's already displayed no faith or belief in her idea, the one inspired by Gadreel. Did he fight alongside that monster? 

Emily could tell her. She must know.

"Nice knife," Husk complimented, left ear flicking. 

It's not a shock that Vaggie recognised it. She's heard Charlie's rambles about the angel that died for their futures and souls. It was so exciting to show Vaggie her books about the subject.

"That piece of shit? Hardly," Adam brushed off. 

Charlie's skin burned, insulted by his crude dismissiveness of an important relic.

"You should be more respectful of Equinox. It belonged to Gadreel."

"And a load of good that did," the angel scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's a dumb knife that belonged to an absolute idiot."

"Addie..." Emily said, soft and sad.

Why wasn't she angry? He was insulting a hero!

"What would someone like you know about a great hero like him?" Charlie sneered, angry.

"Hero? Fuck no. He was an idiot. There's no changing how things are, and he was stupid to try, just like you are. Because of him, innumerable people died, erased from existence - it was for fuck all!"

"You're wrong. What he did-"

"Was a mistake. He deserved what he got."

"Don't say that! What right do you have!?"

"Every right. I'm the one that killed him," the angel spat. 

The words crushed Charlie's heart.

This motherfucker...

Emily put a hand on Charlie's back, her gaze strangely sombre.

"Do you still believe that?" Emily questioned. "Addie, you didn't-"

"There are always casualties in war, even if it ain't in the usual sense of the word," Husk interjected, stopping Emily from what she was going to say. 

"It's not your fault," she said, her soft gaze only irritating the other angel further. 

"Tell it to Uriel and Zadkiel. Tell that to the countless other stupid fuckers that died for nothing. Tell that to Damian. I should've killed that mistake before any of it started."

"I get what you mean," Husk hummed, tail hitting the counter out of confidence or uncertainty. "There's a whole lot I should've done. If I'd done shit differently, maybe so much wouldn't have happened - that's the cost of making decisions, though. It's something we endure. The best we can do is remember those that fell so they're not truly gone." 

"Shut up and get that vodka."

What was Charlie supposed to add to that? 

Another thing she didn't understand. She knew that war happened, that it hurt a lot of people, and no realm recovered, but the marks it left on the survivors? She didn't have experience with that.

At the moment, Husk was the only one who grasped the magnitude of such things. He knew the pain it left behind, having been in a war himself. She didn't know much, only that he died as an active soldier.

Her father had been in that war. Could he help? Probably not. They must hate each other.

"It's a difficult subject," Emily sighed, sorrowful. "I spawned after the war, so I didn't see it directly, but my kin were all there. I'm sorry that he brought him up - he didn't mean that."

"Who?"

Emily stared at Charlie, confused. 

She understood that Uriel and Zadkiel must've been angels, but who was Damian? That wasn't an angelic name. 

It wasn't in any of the stories. There was never mention of a Damian, but whoever they were was important enough for Adam to emphasise his name. Was he a friend of her parents? Is that why Emily apologised?

The young seraph was sad to learn that Charlie didn't know about him. Of all people, Emily looked to Vaggie for help, but her girlfriend only shrugged.

She'll have to ask her dad.

"Is everyone ready to head out?" Charlie said, pushing down the unease growing in her chest.

"A walk will probably do us all some good - hey, Smiles is finally here," Angel Dust said, spotting the mysterious cannibal. "Were you just watching all that?"

"And interrupt the entertainment? I wouldn't dare! With it finished, I no longer needed to remain in the shadows."

Of course, Alastor was amused.

"That's everyone. Other than Niffty, obviously," Vaggie sighed, earning a middle finger from the cause of that absence. "I think it's best if you avoid bringing that up again. Especially since it makes him more unstable than he already is."

"Addie won't hurt any of you - not unless you're a threat to me - but it is preferable if that's not mentioned. Not even Gabriel can talk about it without becoming frustrated, and his patience is as vast as the seas."

Charlie didn't mean to trigger anything. It was never her intention to be hurtful. Attacking the one that inspired her was a touchy subject, though.

Maybe Adam was angry because he knew Gadreel personally. Or he lost someone because of the war. Is that what happened to Eve? Is that why she vanished?

At least Husk managed to soothe the flames before it got out of control. She didn't want to deal with an infuriated exorcist.

Angel Dust already told her how fast he eliminated four people. Perhaps the rank of General wasn't a joke but something he'd earned. 

She should know better than to assume by appearance alone. Her father was the last threatening-looking entity in Hell, but he was the most powerful. 

Vaggie didn't appear to be a good fighter, but she would summon her spear when necessary. 

Perhaps Emily is more capable than Charlie or Sera believe? After all, Adam gave her a knife - even if it was an important relic - so she must know how to use it. 

She can come up with a lesson plan in the meantime. 

"Let's go, hoes. I want something hot," Angel Dust smirked, going to the doors. "Al, you know any places?"

"None that serve what you feed upon - my taste is more personal."

"There's a spot that does both. Trinket's Tiny Town - stupid name, but it's got alright stuff," Husk said, stretching his wings briefly.

Before he got close towards Angel, the angel near him grabbed one of his wings, looking disgusted.

"When this stupid kindergarten bullshit field trip is over, you're getting a lesson on how to preen - these are a fucking disgrace," Adam insulted, letting go roughly. "Do any of you cunts know how to take care of yourselves, or am I babysitting all of you?"

Emily sucked a breath through her teeth, taking a closer look as well.

"It must be super hard to fly with these," she said, far more empathetic and graceful than her bodyguard. "I'm sure they hurt, too. That's alright - I'll show you how to make them healthy like me and Addie's."

With no worry or concern, the small seraph took one of Adam's wings, showing the comparison to Husk. It had Angel Dust, Alastor and Pentious' interest - though the serpent observed from a reasonable distance from the snake-phobic exorcist.

Even Charlie could see the difference. While Husk's wings were dishevelled and out of alignment, Adam's were neat and didn't look so rotten. She had never heard of preening before. She assumed that sinner wings looked like that, but it must be something you have to maintain.

Another thing she'd failed to acknowledge. She'll have to do a lot of research. She didn't even notice that Sir Pentious had or could shed his skin.

Though she felt like an idiot, it was somewhat motivating. It meant she could help; it was just a matter of expanding her knowledge. Combining her and Emily's understanding of their realms will have to ensure success - failure wasn't an option!

"Y'know, I did wonder why you never flew anywhere. Didn't think it was because your wings were fucked," Angel said, exiting the hotel first. "I wanna know about this stuff. Seems cool."

"Nobody ever said anythin'," the feline shrugged, perplexed. 

"That's what we're here for!" Emily grinned, her blue eyes meeting Charlie's red. "Combined, there's nothing we can't do!"

Emily believed in her. 

Vaggie believed in her.

That would be enough.

It was more than reasonable for Sir Pentious to stick close to Vaggie, terrified of the less-than-enthusiastic exorcist. Seeing him next to Angel Dust showed how big he was; he was twelve feet tall, maybe even more. The way he folded his wings was weird, though. They sat snug against his ribcage, almost defensively.

Emily had hers against her back neatly. It was cute. How did they get along so well if they were opposites?

She felt Vaggie's hand graze her arm comfortingly.

"You're handling this better than me," her girlfriend smiled. It creased the grey skin around Vaggie's eye and made Charlie's heart skip beats. "You're doing great."

"I didn't realise how much I didn't know," Charlie admitted. "It's daunting. I didn't think about them - him - knowing anything... comes with living for so long, I guess."

"That's what Emily's here for - helping you. And you're helping her. It's only the first day; I'm sure there's loads you know which she doesn't."

"Thanks, Vaggie. I can always rely on you to make me feel better."

Though she kept her smile, those cute creases fell. It worried Charlie.

It's probably nothing.

She's overthinking everything. 

Everything's going far better than she could've hoped for. Everyone was mostly getting along. Even Alastor, the antisocial, was partaking more than usual. Having an angelic entity around brought out his endless curiosity.

There's something else about the deer demon like he knew something and wanted to share but couldn't. 

He was planning something, and it worried her.

Husk was right about Trinket's being nearby. It was small, quaint, nothing too grand. It shouldn't turn too many heads - it's only an Overlord, the Princess, a Seraphim and a giant Exorcist sitting in a little cafe.

She could already feel people staring. While Adam's attire muddied his identity, his golden wings and horns were a giveaway of what he was. And Emily's six wings were even worse.

The seraph looked excited to try hellish food, spouting questions in that weird angel language.

"What do you think humans taste like?" Emily questioned, looking at the cannibal menu.

Adam didn't say a word, using his tail to direct her away from that particular menu. She wasn't bothered, used to such behaviour.

If he hadn't, Charlie would've. That girl should stay far away from cannibalism.

"Depends, my dear. If cooked, it resembles pork," the deer demon answered, looking over what was available. "I prefer mine raw and aged."

"Yeah, rotten and disgusting," Vaggie sneered, disgusted. "You eat roadkill."

"That ain't even the half of it," Husk shivered, sharing her revulsion. "What you hankerin' for kid?"

"Uhh... Addie, what does this say?" she asked, looking up at the disinterested angel.

"Aebleskiver. Swedish pancake ball," he elaborated, audibly bored.

"I'll try that!" Emily smiled, her wings fluttering. "What're you going to have?"

"I'm not eating."

"You gotta have something," Angel Dust argued. "Do it for her. You don't wanna make the kid sad - do you?" he teased, pinching at Emily's cheeks.

"The smörgåstårta if you're gonna force it."

That didn't even sound like a word.

It must come from some odd human language.

"It's a Swedish place," Husk elaborated. "Räkmacka for me. I'm a whore for shrimp."

"How do you even pronounce that?" Vaggie inquired, pointing at a long name.

"I saw that - Ärtsoppa med fläsk och pannkakor. Literally, 'pea soup with fried pork and pancakes'," Adam said, kicking a chair out to sit.

It was too small for him, but he stubbornly remained.

So, their table's been picked, then.

"He can go fuck himself, but I'll have that. What do you want, sweetie?"

"I'll try the thing called Prinskorv - it has a cute name," Charlie picked. "You know what you want, Angel?"

"Gonna have the same as Whiskers."

Sweet. 

"Pentious?" she questioned, but the snake shook his head.

"I... don't eat so soon after shedding - I'll be sick."

"That's ok. We can share a smoothie," Emily smiled, holding her hand to the nervous reptile. "And again, you don't need to be afraid. I'll keep you safe."

"Thank you, dearie," the snake accepted, warming up to the darling.

They've made it further than Charlie anticipated.

A meal with coworkers, friends and an unwilling bodyguard. 

There weren't enough chairs at the table Adam had unceremoniously picked, so Emily happily sat on his lap. He didn't bat an eye, and she wasn't uncomfortable. It's like they've done this before.

He was content ignoring everyone. That was a bonus.

Emily had many questions, and she sweetly watched her learn about Hell. She didn't know anything about how things worked here.

Interestingly, she mentioned that Adam had explained the extermination but wouldn't elaborate further. It must've been in greater detail than Charlie received for her to be tolerant of him. He didn't add or detract from the conversation; he was determined to remain uninvolved.

Reasonably, Pentious was terrified of him, but his lack of interaction made it more tolerable.

They didn't have to wait long after Husk gave their orders - he couldn't memorise a script, but he had a photographic memory when it came to orders. It was probably why he was a good bartender. 

A warm breakfast with her girlfriend, regardless of Alastor's odd sneers and Adam's resting bitch face, was pleasant. 

It turned out that a smörgåstårta is a thing - it's composed of layers of bread bound with large amounts of filling and garnish. It looked more like a cake than a giant sandwich. It barely survived two bites before vanishing.

Charlie discovered her choice was a plate of sausages cut funnily before cooking. It was cute!

Alastor's meal was repugnant. Everyone silently agreed not to acknowledge it for their sanity's sake. It was like an inside-out eyeball or something freaky like that.

He had to be the one to give a rundown of who the Overlords were, giving a sharp jab when mentioning the television demon, Vox. She heard about their spat some months ago - it led to Pentious being brought to their doors.

The radio demon was very intrigued to learn about the political situation of Heaven. It's of angelic beings, the hierarchies, and struggling to settle after that war.

Charlie couldn't help but add a few facts she knew about that subject. That didn't last as long as she wanted, as Adam's expression grew darker with every passing factoid. 

Touchy was an understatement.

Even so, it allowed everyone to get to know each other - excluding Adam.

About an hour into their conversations, Charlie heard something. It was a strum of an instrument, a calling. A second stole everyone's attention.

A brief tune played, inviting them to come and see who was orchestrating the lullaby. 

The violin was familiar. She's heard that before...

Dad?

Charlie exited the building to see her father playing across the road. He had a strange, almost smug smirk as if expecting something to happen. It was different to when he played the fiddle against Alastor, though. It's not aggressive, almost playful.

That smirk turned into an excited grin, his pace quickening.

She didn't know why until the pulse of a heavy guitar vibrated through her spine.

The Princess quickly turned, looking at Adam as he gripped a golden axe-like guitar, his expression also a strange concoction of pride and eerie playfulness.

She realised what her dad was doing. It was a challenge.

Emily started clapping, giddy for what was about to happen.

It drew the attention of passers-by who had never seen Lucifer but were aware of his basic appearance. The King of Hell playing a violin towards some "demon" with a guitar must be a strange sight. 

Holding out his guitar appeared to be an acceptance of this little game.

"This will be fun," Alastor said, his smile widening. "The fallen against the ascended in a battle of strings."

That's one way of putting it.

Lucifer's tune changed, the beginning of a song. He began to move, slightly dancing to his music, showing off flare and flamboyancy that used to make Mom smile and laugh.

She hadn't seen that in a long time.

His boots hit the ground with a beat, never taking his eyes off his musical opponent. 

The far taller angel strolled past them, playing his guitar against the King, adding gusto with every step. That tail waved and hit the floor, adding to the beat.

It captivated the bystanders, many with their phones out to record the sudden symphony. She didn't blame them; watching Lucifer and Adam play against each other was a show.

Lucifer seemed to glide across the pavement like a swan upon a lake, dancing to the shared melody. His grin never wavered, nor did his challenging stare, like he dared the other angel to upstage him somehow.

If she's learned anything about the first man, it's that he wouldn't back down. 

Adam spread his giant wings, lifting himself into the sky, every beat of those appendages adding to the orchestra of sound. Several golden exorcists manifested, flying in marvellous shows of precision and harmony; he'd used them during his song against Charlie when they first met.

He could make those whenever he wanted. Perhaps he also created the exorcists themselves?

Her father opened his wings, all six, taking to the skies as well. He didn't stop there, however, going into his demon form, a sight even Charlie hadn't seen yet. But here he was, using it for a musical dick-measuring contest.

They circled each other, a silent conversation happening through eye contact alone. That changed as Lucifer yanked at Adam's tail, though not maliciously. When it seemed like they'd stopped, the duo suddenly harmonised, their instruments glowing like falling stars.

The harmonisation changed the sky, splitting the ever-present red, opening like an all-seeing eye.

She had seen such a sky once before when Paimon showed her - it was what Earth would see. The night sky, uninhibited by light pollution, hung above all Hell from the sheer power the pair created from their music. Even the Milky Way, something Charlie had only seen in books, decorated the above with majesty and wonder.

It was probably the first time the sinners of Hell had seen the night sky since their death. For many hell-born, they'd never seen such a thing before.

And this is what they did as a game.

The game, sadly, couldn't last forever. The finality created a golden wave that brushed through every soul in the afterlife. 

Lucifer descended first, sending his violin away as he returned to his regular form. That grin remained strong, those ruby eyes trailing the other as he landed. Under Adam's weight, the pavement cracked and caved, unprepared for someone his size.

"Glad to see you still suck," Lucifer antagonised, dismissing the absolute power they displayed. "Ran out of fur dye, huh?"

The King glanced at the tail waving behind the punk angel, amused by it. 

If anything, Adam was amused by the jab.

"And your wings still look like you bathe in period blood. Ever considered an actual bath, Ken Doll?"

"I'd shine too brightly for your meagre human eyes," Lucifer waved off, ignoring the onlookers. 

"Ne faites pas de promesses que vous ne pouvez pas tenir," Adam grinned, speaking French.

"Tu ne m'as jamais vu briller. Je suis comme une statue de marbre!" her Dad bit back, placing a hand on his chest dramatically.

"Une meringue moisie, peut-être."

"That makes me hungry! Who wants pancakes? I want all the pancakes."

"Tout comme ton cul osseux."

"Real original there, abruti!" the King said as he made his way to a stunned Charlie. "Good to see you, sweetie!"

He hugged Charlie, grinning happily.

So far, there were no violent fights, which was a bonus.

Alastor was visibly annoyed. He had an odd rivalry with her father for whatever reason.

"What're you doing here?" Charlie asked, noticing that Emily was talking to Adam about something. 

"I wanted to see you! And have a little chat about your guests," Lucifer continued, his smile still wide and soft. 

He did that whole song and dance but wanted to talk to her.

"I'll keep an eye on them," Vaggie promised, gently rubbing Charlie's back. "You can have a private chat with your dad."

She loved her so much.

Lucifer cast a strange, mysterious look at the giant angel. There was something unspoken between them, aeons of history Charlie couldn't begin to fathom. 

Seeing Adam communicate with Emily made her dad smile in a way she hadn't seen for many years. It felt odd to see directed at Adam of all people.

Privacy was necessary, especially with Alastor's eavesdropping habit.

"Yeah. Can we, Dad?"

"Of course, darling! I'll open a portal to your hotel," he nodded, doing just that. "Get fucked, fat ass!" he bellowed to Adam, earning a snarling middle finger as Charlie stepped through.

What was their relationship? It's weird.

Finally, her father followed, closing it behind him.

"So. How'd this happen?" he asked, smiling still.

"It was awful!" Charlie whined, watching as her dad sat down, summoning a cup of coffee. "Sera wouldn't listen to me; the jury or whatever didn't say a word; Adam kept making fun of me - the only ones who listened were Gabriel and Emily."

"I'm surprised Sera showed up at all. Never been the most compassionate, that one," he shrugged. "I'm happy Gabriel took time from his outrageous schedule to join the meeting. But that doesn't explain the current situation. Y'know, Adam and that little cutie staying here."

"That's the thing. Gabriel decided that Emily could help me, act as an ambassador, but then Sera got all upset about it - so she was allowed to pick a bodyguard to protect her, and she chose Adam."

Lucifer raised a brow, confused by Charlie's irritation at such a choice.

"To be fair to Emily, she chose the best that isn't in the High Hierarchy. He's a General for a reason, Char. He earned that position, too. He was a right-scary bastard during the war. You should've seen him with your mother - the terrible two!"

It seemed like Charlie couldn't understand why he was so dismissive.

"I don't understand. I thought Mom hated Adam. Doesn't them being exes matter?"

"They were never together, kiddo; they're siblings," Lucifer stated, shocking her. "We told you the story - Adam and Lilith were halves of a whole. That's literal. The first human was Mael, who split into the first man and woman. They're technically the first twins."

Lucifer was there when God created Mael, his magnum opus, and he stood by when Mael was split into the first pair. Being a soul split in half, they couldn't stand the idea of being intimate, which led to the making of Eve. 

He suppressed a shudder, remembering how that happened. It should've been the first indicator of what a monster Metatron was. He'd pinned Adam down and yanked the rib from his body - it terrified Lilith to the point of her passing out.

Metatron used the rib to give Eve a fresh, separate soul, though he also made it painful if they were apart.

It was already painful for the twins. Splitting a soul had never been done before, so nobody knew the consequences. It was agonising. There were days Lilith couldn't even sit up from the sheer strain. At least with Lilith, she wasn't hurt further if Lucifer left her side.

The closest way he could water down the explanation would have to be a chronic condition. It wasn't like Adam showed himself when it was rough, though.

He also hid under layers of clothing due to Metatron's cruelty and the cost of war. Did he still have a volatile reaction if anyone touched his neck? Most likely.

It was a shame. He had always looked good, especially in armour.

"Adam's my uncle."

It was a statement, a moment of realisation.

"Pretty much."

He was the one they relied on when Damian was born. The man had six kids; he knew the process regarding birth and that gross stuff. The details when he first explained it to Lucifer made him feel ill.

Women can grow an entire life inside of them, which is incredible. The expulsion of the child, however, was a harrowing and frightening process. 

It would've been nice if they could find Eve for assistance. She's somewhere in Hell, but they've never been able to find her or their kids.

"Is there any way I can use that to keep him from being such an asshole to me?"

There's so much that Lucifer wants to say. However, he couldn't bear the thought of her knowing.

He was still a coward.

"Adam's... complicated. Much like how your mother is. A lot of the time, it's not intentionally hurtful; you'll know when it is. Under the insults and jabs, there's sometimes genuine advice or criticism. It's partially self-defensive; keep people at a distance so they can't hurt you. Speaking of, never go near his neck." 

Lucifer made that mistake last time. It freaked the fuck out of Adam, resulting in... many unkind things being said to each other. Hurtful things.

Things Lucifer regretted not apologising for sooner.

"I guess he was trying to be hurtful earlier, but it didn't make sense."

"How so?"

"It's about the war - he has Equinox, Dad. The actual blade! He was so horrible about Gadreel, and I got upset, and he had a small breakdown or something - Emily tried, but he only got more upset, mentioning people she should talk to like Zadkiel and Damian."

Hearing his name caused a volatile reaction to the King.

He knew his daughter explained it poorly. He'd only bring that up if it were something meaningful or if it was from a place of hurt. Knowing him, it was self-blame. Like them, he never got past it. 

Nobody did.

Adam didn't know. He had no idea that he and Lilith never spoke of Damian. The man likely thought it would spark something in Charlie and have her react. It must've been so confusing to receive nothing. 

He had to tell him not to mention Damian again. While it was a mistake to remain silent, Lucifer didn't want to break her heart again. He's already done enough of that.

"There's a lot you don't know. The war... was hard on everybody."

Lucifer, the craven, remained unable to tell the truth to his daughter.

How could he possibly explain why Lilith left? What her plan was... Why Lucifer didn't have the strength to support her as he should've.

What she wanted... it was impossible. It was suicide, even. 

"I just don't want to make things worse. It feels like that's all I've been doing."

"Sometimes, anything worth doing makes you feel the worst. It's hard. That's probably what makes it so good when you finish," he sighed, recalling the relief when the final horn blew, signifying the end. "He was like you. Before the war."

"Who?"

"Adam. The mayhem he and Lilith used to cause was something to behold. They used to play music together. It sure was something," he reminisced, missing those days.

Simpler times.

Simpler times, hiding a corrupt, broken system that they still suffered under. 

"But... I never met him until six months ago."

She was so confused.

He was desperate to help her, but... he was still a coward. 

"Your Mom made a decision. It was... a rash one. A hard, painful one that she regrets. Their relationship was already suffering, but that ended it between them."

"What did she do? Dad, please."

"She wasn't thinking clearly. We were all desperate. She... tried to fuse back with Adam - he didn't even realise what was happening until they were already halfway. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but Mael took Michael and Azrael down - it turned the war in our favour, but the cost was grave. It's where his tail came from; he didn't have it before that."

It was a nice one, though. 

While he got a tail, Lilith got a single wing she could summon. She hated it, however. It reminded her of what she had destroyed.

The relationship with her brother, the one who had been by her side since their beginning. They had done everything together. They rebuilt their closeness after the apple incident, partially because they discovered they were all tricked by that bastard Metatron.

They didn't recover from Mael. It decimated any chance of trust between them ever again. It wasn't even that Lucifer or Lilith blamed him for that. 

It's a lot to unpack for the poor girl.

"I want to help."

Of course, his darling daughter wanted to save a man who hated himself more than Metatron loathed humanity.

"I know you do, sweetie. I love that for you. But there's so much, more than I could ever explain."

"You could help, then."

Lucifer would only make it worse. It's what he did best.

"I'm not so sure I can, Char. Whenever I get involved with things, I tend to... I fuck it up. Badly."

"I don't think you can make it any worse."

The worst part was that she was probably right. What could Lucifer possibly do that wasn't done before?

He can't make it worse.

"I'll try. I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

Adam was not the only one who needed somebody who understood.

Zestial looked over the images. His head tilted, immersed in the flurry of theories in the comments.

He hated these infernal devices.

"See? What'd I tell you?" Rosie snarked, her empty black eyes flickering to the phone. "He's here."

The music was unmistakable.

They heard that voice so many times before their demise. It had kept them safe. It shielded them from the worst of a world that hated them for existing.

Zestial lowered the phone, thinking over what this could mean.

"So. What're we gonna do?" Rosie asked with her fangs on full display.

"That depends," the fellow ancient said, considering their options. "We know not why he is here. If it is to assist Princess Charlotte in her endeavours, perhaps the man we once revered is not truly dead. If it is a guise to exterminate all of Hell.... he may truly be lost."

"Given up, Cain?" she teased.

"Doth thou blame me?" he sighed, feeling weary. That name was once spoken with pride. Now, it's one of fear and hate. "Mother cannot know. Not yet. Not until we knoweth more."

"Mom deserves that," Rosie challenged, though he disagreed. "I miss him, Cain. I miss Dad."

"I know. It has been long since any hast seen him... though longer for thou..." 

Regret dripped like acid in Zestial's voice, his eyes growing sorrowful towards his sister.

He, the first murderer, and her, the first victim. It was an accident; he never intended to kill Abel, only to maybe scare them. It was stupid, and he knew that. 

Zestial had screamed for his father like a babe, desperate for help. He pleaded for his parents to undo his mistake and to save his sibling.

Their father had held them and whispered soft assurances that they were going to be ok as they died in his arms. The denial struck them first, refusing to believe that Abel had died.

Mother was never the same. None of them were.

It was almost worse that it was an accident because what did they have to blame? 

He blamed himself, of course. The guilt ate at him until he finally died. He expected to be in Hell, but not Abel.

No - Abel ceased to be that day, and Rosie was born.

The first trans being.

Zestial didn't care. He was just happy to see them again, even if it was in Hell, and he never stopped apologising for his stupidity. 

She forgave him long ago, but that didn't stop him.

"You'll have to forgive yourself eventually, Zesty," she smiled, wrapping her arms around his slender waist. "Have some faith in the old bastard. We both know he never stopped looking for us - we get our stupid stubbornness from him."

That was an understatement.

"I wish I hath the same faith as thou, Rosie."

"I'll have enough for both of us then," she said, slightly tightening her hug. "We're nearly all together again. Finally."

More than that.

From the looks of that video, their mother's long-standing theory of those idiots being deeply obsessed with each other was correct. Knowing her, she'll try setting them up.

Hm. Perhaps Zestial could help with that. It'll be a test to discover their father's true intentions.

He won't fail his family again. He won't allow it, even if it means protecting them from their father. The man that Zestial couldn't dream half of being...

Chapter Text

"This is our fight too!" Damian yelled, his voice shattering through Lucifer's soul. "Metatron's coup has threatened everything Grandfather created. He will never stop until all of creation is beneath his heel!"

"The things he's done to our family should be more than enough of a reason to fight," Lilith agreed, standing beside their son. "Everyone has to join. Heaven, Hell and the Mortal Realm. All of us must unite under this common cause."

Lucifer was afraid. He was scared of Metatron; who wasn't?

That thing was a caricature of what God had made. It was evil, even more so than the creature birthed from the eating of those dreaded apples.

He didn't want to fight. He didn't know how. None of them did. They never had to before.

"With Gadreel, we can win. I know it," Damian said, clutching his chest. 

There's so much to lose. Agreeing to this would be a civil war - the first in the higher realms' history. There have been arguments, but this is the first time anything close to this was on the horizon. 

Could they do it?

It felt so cold to be alone in his hesitation. He lacked Damian and Lilith's confidence; it was never his strong suit, even before he and his advocates fell. 

Beelzebub, Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Leviathan and Mammon would follow him if he asked. The only one with any spark for battle had been Satan, and even that was limited.

Would it ever be enough?

"I know what he can do," Adam said, his voice hoarse, throat still black and blue. "He shouldn't get to decide who's saved and who's damned - he can't pick and choose who his toys get to be. We end the game, or we're doomed to play."

Any of Metatron's games spelled doomed for its players.

A slow, torturous one...

He knew they would go on without him. They didn't have a choice. Even with Gadreel at their side, there was no guarantee of victory. 

Lucifer was always a coward, but he feared leaving his family alone more than he was scared of Metatron. Slightly.

"We don't know how to fight," Lucifer said, his heart pounding. "Sure, we eradicate Roo's beasts, but this? This isn't some mindless animal - it's intelligent, cruel and cautious beings with more power than we can fathom."

"Then we'll learn," Damian stated, silvery green eyes smouldering with determination. "We adapt. We'll overcome this trial. Without God to watch over us, we must make the changes necessary - for all souls. Damned, saved and unjudged together to end a tyranny that threatens any hope of a future."

"Are you coming with us?" Lilith asked, extending her hand to Lucifer, her silver eyes pleading.

He couldn't turn her away. He never would.

"I promise, I'll follow you 'til the end of time," he said, taking it.

Lucifer failed that vow.

He failed so much. It was pathetic how useless he'd been.

What husband refuses to help his wife?

A cowardly one.

A useless, awful coward that proved to, once again, be the disappointment of Heaven and Hell combined. 

Lucifer ran his blackened fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

"You know I'm right!" Lilith yelled, fear, grief and pain suffocating the compassionate light in those eyes he fell so hard for. "He never left. He's just hiding, getting stronger, and we're doing nothing about it!"

He didn't fault her pain. He believed that as well.

What she was proposing, however...

"You can't do this, Lily!" Lucifer cried back, his heart breaking for their unaware daughter. "This would kill you! It'd kill both of you!"

"No. No, I can do it, Luci. I can change it - I'll become whole, I'll be Mael, and I'll keep him from ever hurting our baby again!"

It was worse than he feared. He had underestimated her proposal, and it scared him.

Lucifer didn't want to lose a child again, either. He wouldn't survive it. It was a battle every day to cope with Damian's loss.

He took a step back for their sake. He let his wife soothe her terrors by keeping the babe at her hip, shielding her from the horrors of their kingdom. He selfishly distanced himself, mortified by the possibility of failing once again.

The craven was horrified by her plan. It wouldn't work - it wasn't possible. The idea alone, though...

"If - a massive if - if it were even possible, you'd..." the words briefly failed as he processed it. "You'd be killing him. You'd kill your brother and probably yourself, leaving our baby behind, all so you can get revenge." 

"As if you don't want it. You nearly killed yourself with Gadreel!" she spat, furious. "I can't take it anymore. I can't take the agony of being in half, of not being good enough, of failing - I won't let our child suffer his evil. I'll destroy him once and for all. Even if it means sacrificing Adam and myself to do it."

"I can't let you do this. I won't! When we married, I vowed to protect you! To keep you alive! I failed Dami; I won't fail you, too."

Lilith groaned, pushing away the tears that burned her beautiful eyes. 

"I waited," she sniffled, fighting back the urge to throw up. "I waited until she was eighteen."

"How long have you been planning this!?"

"I was going to do it sooner. But... but then Charlotte came... I couldn't leave her behind as a baby. A child. But she's an adult now. I can - I'll be enough. I'll finish what we should've done a long time ago. As Mael, I can make sure she'll stay safe. She'll never know war or any horrors our Dami suffered."

"Killing Adam isn't the way..."

"I don't want to! I never forgave myself for what I did, but I had to - I couldn't let Michael and Azrael kill you, too... I love my brother. More than I can ever put in words. But I love Charlotte more." 

"Enough to abandon her?"

They were horrid words. Painful. Harsh. He hated how they felt on his tongue, but he couldn't keep such hounds at bay. 

The arrows of anguish struck true, the spread of pain in his beloved's expression digging a knife into his soul. 

"I have to do this, Luci. You can help me, or... or you run away. Like you've always done," she seethed, the venom thick and sour. 

They were hurting. They were angry and scared. These words were not befitting of them; they didn't belong to their voices.

Lucifer wanted to bend. He wished to apologise, to cradle his love and keep his vows.

But he remained still. The Craven King once again.

He stood there as he had at their son's remains, at his funeral, and when Gadreel's armour was laid to rest...

"Where you're going - this isn't a path I can follow. I can't leave her behind. Not on this insane murder-suicide mission!"

"I have to!"

"You can stay here, Lily. Stay with us. Choose us over him. I'm begging you... please don't choose this."

"I'm sorry," Lilith croaked, grief and pain etched in every syllable. She plucked the ring from her finger and placed it on their table. "If you can't follow me... don't."

"Please! Lily!"

"I'll return when it's done and when our daughter is safe. Goodbye, Luci."

He never told Charlie what her mother had planned. He was too much of a coward to explain.

He still is.

Lilith didn't succeed in the past seven years. Despite the conviction, Adam was still alive, and Mael didn't exist.

For now.

Perhaps she had died in her pursuit. It was a possibility he feared. He'd never know, however. He did his best to be there for Charlotte, but he was a failure. She didn't want to see him, wanting to know where her mother had gone.

What could Lucifer say? Obviously, not the truth.

He lied. He told her it was an amicable split and Lilith would return when she was ready. He'd hoped she would wake up and come home, but she didn't. 

She never came back.

Then again, it wasn't the first time Lucifer had been too weak to stand by her. No wonder she left.

He had always been a coward.

A meeting. Another one.

It wasn't supposed to be so sour. They were meant to be united, collaborating as one under the common goal of doing as God intended. They would comfort the virtuous and punish the sinners - not the ones that Metatron picked, but those that deserved judgment.

Only they didn't know what qualified anymore. He had the power to choose, but nobody knew how. It was a guessing game.

The mortal humans only made it worse with that Bible nonsense. They twisted Damian into someone they named Yeshua or Jesus - many names were thrown around. It pissed everyone off, but since they vowed not to involve the mortals, they couldn't change it.

Lucifer hated that symbol. The cross. That bastard had crucified his son after ripping his throat out, and humans used it as a sign of hope. 

The sinners... they weren't worth Damian's love. None of them. They're all awful. 

None of the High Hierarchy was here, which was strange; Adam should be a member, but he refused any official place. It's not like Lucifer blamed him. It sucked then, and from the looks of things, it still sucked.

It was rare for his fellow sins to be invited, too. 

"Morning Star," Sera said, her voice cold and distant. "We need to discuss a problem."

"Bitch, will ya just get to the point?" Mammon huffed, cracking his knuckles just to upset her. "We got things to do. Rings to run. Actual work instead of lookin' average with their head in a dunny."

"Yeah. My hellhounds are suffering a hellbies outbreak - this is taking precious time," Beelzebub agreed, her wings buzzing with annoyance. "Skip the fake stuff for all of our sakes."

Lucifer didn't want to talk.

Lilith was similarly quiet, fixated on her brother. The hurt in her eyes struck Lucifer's soul, leading him to put a hand on her lap. She had so much to say but couldn't.

He was unimpressed, scowling.

"Very well. We're here to discuss an attempt at our gates," Sera stated, detached despite the severity of what she'd just said. "Fortunately, Adam's... creations were able to stop it." 

Right. 

Two of those said creations were here, wearing matching outfits.

One was pale with golden eyes; her white hair was short, and her features matched an Asian human. The other had pinkish silver eyes with grey hair and greyer skin; her nose was hooked and prominent compared to the other. The latter was fresher than the other one.

After the war, whenever Adam's feathers were pulled or fell out, they became winged beings that were angelic but didn't fit their ancient hierarchy. Nobody knew what to do with them, so they just hung around.

Today, however, they were standing to attention akin to soldiers. It shouldn't be a surprise that the first man had taught them to fight.

"Demons attempted to break into heaven?" Asmodeus questioned, his tail feathers poised like a scorpion's tail. 

"It's not the first time. However, this was the first time they got to the gates. Five cherubs were injured, and two virtuous were mutilated beyond Jophiel's healing. We need a way to ensure this doesn't repeat."

Lucifer didn't know what he was supposed to say.

As usual, his wife was there to do what he couldn't.

"Hurting the cherubs and virtuous was wrong, but can you blame them for wanting a better life?" Lilith argued, earning a harsh glare from Sera. "Hell is overpopulated. There are too many souls and not enough resources to survive. We're all suffering, but you know some people don't belong here."

"I don't ken where you've been, Hen, but the sinners are bawbags," Leviathan countered, their five eyes locking with her silver pair. "They torment the wee Hellborn like it's a sport! We cannae rebuild and recover if those arseholes jus' come down and destroy it however they please. At least our folk can fight back."

"They're right. Most of Heaven's military power was killed in the war or joined Metatron. And some sinners revere him as a hero," Asmodeus continued, earning several hums of agreement. "I've had three cults cause trouble in my ring just this past century!"

"Well, Mets was banished to Earth. Maybe he's begun influencing the mortals there. He may be gathering agents to infiltrate Hell and Heaven to destroy us from the inside," Mammon suggested, which was horrifyingly plausible. "How else would some nobodies figure out how to get upstairs, much less near the fucking gates?"

The possibility weighed heavily on all of them. 

If Metatron gained enough followers, he could influence the newly forming politics of either side. He could weaken them and take over again, and they'd be powerless to stop him.

They couldn't allow it to get to that point.

"What do we do?" Lucifer questioned, the fear of another battle urging him to speak.

"Something! Anything!" Adam growled, finally speaking as well. "I've been warning about something like this for years! The sinners are out of control - the only thing either of you fuckers have done is encourage them!"

"Encourage them to feel safe and loved despite their punishment!" Lilith shouted, upset by her brother's visible anger and spite.

She couldn't even meet his eyes. He was wearing a mask that obscured his features. The horns were almost an insult.

"Oh, so you're the one who's responsible for the balls it took to try fucking with us? Classic Lilith, always acting without thinking. How so much changes on the surface, but in the end, it's all the same," Adam spat, his words dripping with venom and hate.

His tail showed from under those robes, hitting the floor with emphasis - a forced modification to his body due to Lilith's rash actions.

The audible pain in his voice struck his wife like a literal blow, bringing tears to her beautiful eyes.

"I'll always be sorry for what I did. Please, Adam - don't take it out on them. They suffer enough."

"They're suffering? Them? The rapers, killers, cannibals and other ilk you generously birthed after breaking the only fucking rule in Eden? They're the ones who earn your mercy, your respect and compassion, but not your own fucking family!?"

"Adam, please!"

"No! If it's so terrible that so many sinners are in Hell, why don't we start culling the herd? Why don't we round them up like cattle and put them down? Seems like a wonderful fucking idea!"

"I believe that is a perfect way to solve our problem," Sera said, surprising all of them, Adam included. "Not only do we reduce Hell's overpopulation, but we neutralise any souls potentially tainted by Metatron's underlings. We cannot risk an uprising or another war."

Mammon and Satan hit their hands on the table, infuriated.

"I'm not letting you kill my imps like it's a fuckin' sport. They had no part in this horse shit!" Satan roared, his tail whipping the air.

"And my sharks ain' even gone to Gluttony, let alone near your pussy gates. I'm not standing for it either!" the sin of greed hissed, toxic green gas escaping his fangs. 

"Ozzie's succubi, my hellhounds, Leviathan's eldritch and Belphegor's baphomets have never been turned by Metatron, unlike the humans. They shouldn't suffer for sinners' actions," Beelzebub snarled, the vixen's words sparking Leviathan and Asmodeus to stand imposingly.

As usual, Bel was asleep, but he knew she would be with them.

"You are correct in that your... beings were not involved," Sera acknowledged, though that didn't matter to her. "If this "extermination" was to commence, there's a significant likelihood of those born in Hell being caught in the crossfire. A necessary sacrifice."

"Why don't you keep the sinners in the first ring?" suggested the darker angel, her voice surprisingly deep and gravelly. "Then the Hellborn could hide in the other rings."

"Who the fuck is she? I like her," Mammon smirked.

"Vaggie," Adam named, giving a nod of approval. "Seems like the problem's solved. My girls have proven adept at exorcising sinners - they can lead the exterminations. Overpopulation is ended, Met loses any possible foothold in Hell, and the gates are secured."

The named girl stood to attention, excited over the praise. It irritated the other, though.

Lilith finally stood, though Lucifer didn't join her.

She looked angry at both of them.

"Adam, you can't do this."

"Watch me, bitch."

"You fought for more than this. You fought for their right to be where they belong. So many of those souls belong in Heaven - erasing and sending them to Roo isn't what you fought for. It's not what Dami fought for!"

Everyone was silenced, the weight of that name crushing them.

It was too much. He couldn't bear any more of this.

"I agree. On the condition that the Hellborn is spared," Lucifer said, shocking Lilith. "Once a year, the sinners will be culled."

"It can motivate the cunts to redeem themselves," Satan concurred, satisfied.

Adam scoffed, disgusted by the idea.

Not long ago, he would've advocated for redemption instead of execution. But they were all changed.

Lucifer didn't believe in redemption either. He lost hope for humans and their sinful ways. How they made a mockery of his son's death only proved that.

"I can't believe this. You're all happy with the murder of millions?" Lilith growled, infuriated.

"And what do you suggest we do otherwise?" Asmodeus challenged. "We all accepted that things would be difficult once Metatron was overthrown. We've yet to grasp control of this system. Until we do, we make do with what we have. For now, the exterminations will ease recovery. And train a legion of soldiers should Metatron return. We only have ourselves and the Goetia now - that's not nearly enough."

"I'll make sure they're ready," Adam said, cold and hollow sounding. "He won't get a chance. Never again."

"Then it's settled. On this day next year, the first extermination will occur. It's a temporary solution to this problem. And not one taken lightly," Sera sighed, satisfied.

"Aye. Other than Lilith, we're all in agreement," Leviathan agreed, their gills fanning like a smile. "Allow the sinners tae form a society with enough order tae which the exterminations and ring restrictions are nae longer necessary."

Lilith stood alone. 

He wouldn't defend the creatures that insulted their son's demise. He wouldn't tolerate how they twisted it further, turning it upside down as though it was funny. 

Even when Heaven attempted to reclaim the symbol and ease its mockery, it never sated Lucifer's pain.

His grief.

His rage.

They won the war, but Lucifer didn't get to kill the one who stole his light. None of them did. The coward was banished to Earth and forced to suffer in a damaged, weak vessel.

Metatron wished to understand humans to the point of using the first man as his plaything - his punishment was enduring agony as one until the sun enveloped the Earth. It was too kind.

Lucifer wanted his scalp as a washcloth.

He didn't have the strength to feel sorry for his creation. It was Metatron that cursed those apples and invented sin, to begin with. The sinners were all his doing, his people - they were vile, and Lucifer preferred they be wiped out entirely.

Adam may answer that desire. Albeit a suggestion birthed from anger, not a legitimate solution, it soothed some of the aches in his soul.

It felt like retribution. 

Vengeance.

Lilith was horrified as Sera stood, preparing to leave. She again turned to Lucifer, but he couldn't meet her gaze.

They didn't deserve Damian's mercy. They had lost Adam's faith, Gabriel's hope and Lucifer's compassion. It was wasted on them.

No love should be wasted on Metatron's creations...

Lilith left, storming through the doors of the Heaven Embassy. It finally awoke Belphegor, lifting her skeletal head and rubbing at her eyes with her bear-like paws.

"That cunt could sleep through a hell quake - I fuckin' swear," Mammon grumbled as he headed for the door. Beside him, Satan nodded in agreement.

Asmodeus nudged her shoulder, encouraging her to leave with them. He'd give her the details of their meeting.

Lucifer watched them leave. They're the closest siblings that he had. The ones that didn't turn their backs on him. 

Leviathan was the last to vacate the room, their gaze on Lucifer's slumped shoulders.

They slithered to him, raking their claws through his hair. Their mucus acted as gel, keeping the gold strands from covering his eyes.

"Do you want tae stay at mine for the night?" Levi asked, assuming that Lilith wouldn't want to see him. "We can have a wee night together and give her some time."

Lucifer smiled, nodding softly.

"Can I have a minute? Before they leave?"

"Aye. I'd invite him, but he and Mam get along too well."

They were always getting into trouble during the war. They should never be left alone together.

It's one of the many things that Lucifer enjoyed, though. He was often with them during their little pranks on Gabriel during the quieter times. 

Leviathan smiled, showing their rows of sharp, needle teeth. With a wink of two of their five eyes, they slithered out.

Lucifer didn't know what the wink was about, but knowing Levi, it was something silly.

He cleared his throat, earning Sera's disapproving glare. That wasn't something he cared about, though. She wasn't the one he wanted to talk to.

"It'll be a minute. Don't get your wings in a knot," Adam said, waving off the seraphim's scowl. She rolled her eyes, leaving through a portal. "You girls, too. Lute, good job on not blowing up."

"Of course, sir," the pale one smirked, a little cocky, but it was somewhat endearing; it was like a puppy barking at a full-grown hound.

The younger one nodded, following orders eagerly. She was cute.

Finally, they had the room to themselves. It had to be brief, but even so, it felt good.

He always enjoyed their conversations, even if they occasionally became bitter. 

After the others had left, the first man became far less tense. He didn't have to hide as much when it was only Lucifer.

"I'm sorry," Adam sighed, sounding as exhausted as Lucifer felt. "I'll make sure they'll stick to the rules. Since they're exorcising souls, we can call them exorcists now."

That's not what the man wanted to say, and Lucifer knew it.

"I don't agree with her," Lucifer said, his eyes briefly falling. "I used to believe in them. Like... I can't. I physically can't."

"Did anything change?" the man questioned, sounding far away like he wasn't there. "Did we put a new coat of paint on a pile of shit and call it fixed?"

"I don't know," Lucifer admitted, cold spreading in his chest. "If it means anything, I'd follow you again. It needed to be done, getting rid of Metatron, but we're without guidance. We've got to figure this out for ourselves... that's damn scary, in my opinion. But I'm glad that I'm not alone."

"You're never alone, Luci. Even if I hated you, I wouldn't leave you. Sounds fucking pathetic when I say it out loud."

"No. I get it. And thanks. That means a lot."

"See you around."

"Yeah. See you..."

Lilith never forgave Lucifer for not fighting for the sinners. It was another thing they refused to talk about.

Heaven kept their word, and the exorcists didn't harm Hellborn. They even had masks that would warn them to avoid such problems.

The other rings prospered without the sinners' involvement, further proving Lucifer's doubts. Out of them, Asmodeus' ring was the most prosperous, flourishing like a utopia under his rule.

Lucifer was never fit to lead. He couldn't rule. It was one of his many shortcomings.

He had so, so many of those.

No wonder Charlie barely wanted him around. He only made her life harder.

The King held no true kingdom. His only subjects were his inner demons and failures. He held the crown in name only, a title he was given as punishment for believing a lie. It was as bitter as that apple.

Lilith had left, Eve was missing, and all of Heaven had turned their backs on him long ago. The sins were busy; they were thriving without him. His daughter could hardly stand him, even with the promise to try again.

And he was a terrible friend to the only one who knew Lucifer's plight, who understood the ache that will never cease. It was a flame that couldn't be snuffed, a hole that would never be filled. 

So few knew of Damian's death, and fewer knew him in life. In their endeavour to escape their pain, they'd unintentionally erased their son's tale of rebellion and revolution - he died for all of their souls, and it meant nothing. 

He died for sinners and virtuous who would never appreciate his sacrifice. 

Despite their efforts, their stories inspired Charlotte, even if they didn't speak Damian's name. He knew that Lilith wanted to tell Charlie about her brother, but how could she explain to a child why her other uncle couldn't stand being near her mom? So they used another name, the one that belonged to a weapon but was so synonymous with the wielder that it became a nickname.

Her hero. Her inspiration. A man that was broken by a monster.

They lost more than friends and family. For many of them, there were physical reminders of their failures.

Lucifer looked at his blackened hands, scarred from a rash decision fueled by fear and rage. They spread past his elbows like flames, detailing where the damage spread. Sometimes, he couldn't feel his fingers, the nerves too damaged. On other days, they burned, like the nerves had flashbacks to that vivid moment.

Useless hands that hurt whoever they touched. 

Even so, there was someone he desperately wanted to connect with. His only true friend. The one that hadn't left. 

It was a shot in the dark to start toying with his violin in the street, but joyfully, Adam played back. It felt so good to do that again, to see his friend in his element and for them both to enjoy something without the strings of their past attached.

Music could be an expression of their pain or a reprieve from it. For Lucifer, it muddied between both, but this morning was an excellent example of the latter. For some brief, sweet moments, there had been no war, his daughter didn't hate him, his wife hadn't abandoned their family, and his son never died. 

A moment of peace and fun.

Given the time, Lucifer knew he'd still be up. Neither of them was good at sleeping, either plagued with nightmares or too restless. 

When the King of Nothing arrived at the door where his brother-in-arms had chosen, he could hear Adam with Emily.

She was a cute seraph, the most recently spawned. As God was gone, she was born; her resemblance to Sera was too uncanny for her not to be her mother. It didn't appear that the girl knew that, however.

Or she did, and their relationship was cold at best. Knowing Sera, any affection would be out of the ordinary. That didn't mean Sera was incapable of love, but she couldn't express it like most. She was immensely unavailable and closed off, frigid and set in her ways.

Lucifer once had a brilliant relationship with God. That soured, but they never got the opportunity to reconcile before his demise.

Another lie he couldn't bring to reveal to his baby girl - God was one of the multitude of reasons that the war even started. Heartless and uncharacteristically ill-thought-out, Metatron had slain him through means nobody knew. How did he manage to do it? A question that plagued them all, even after millennia since it happened. 

Uncertain, Lucifer tried the door, finding it unlocked. Through a gap, he could see what was happening.

"Copy what I'm doing, yeah?" Adam said, his fingers gliding over the strings like a skater across the ice. The ease and precision were enviable. "You don't have to play a concert, Em. Gotta start in the shallow end, or you'll drown."

"Got it," Emily nodded, doing her damndest. Her arms were far shorter than Adam's, making using one of his guitars tougher.

She was about the size of it.

Lucifer recognised it. That was Pyre Cleaver. It was an old one that Lilith had gifted as an olive branch. She was under the impression that he'd rejected it, but there it was. 

There might've been hope for reconciliation, even if it would've been rocky at best. What Lilith did, even though it significantly helped them, was rash and cruel - to be even possibly open to discussion after something like that was huge. 

He wished she was here to see it. Then again, she shouldn't be, given her plan. 

What she didn't see, however, were the brief tremble in those shoulders, how those wings sat a little too snug against his sides. That tail was rigid, and the feathers fanned with irritation. Early indicators. 

Even with that mask on, Lucifer could feel his gaze switch from Emily to him.

"Sounds great so far, kiddo," Lucifer complimented, unsure of the young seraph. "Emily, correct?"

"Yeah, that's me!" she smiled. She was eerily similar to Charlotte. "Addie's teaching me to play."

"Trying to. Sugar tit fairy here is under the impression that she can shred Master of Puppets in a month. You have to start low before you go high, Bitchbelina. You just started today."

"I want to prove to Sera that I can do this. Not just learn an instrument that isn't "befitting of a graceful being" but that I'm not a child; I'm my own unique person, and I can express that. Guitar is just the start."

"How about we focus on finishing House Of The Rising Sun before we start touching Metallica."

"I want to do that "American Idiot" by Green Day after this."

"So long as it's not fucking country or jazz, I can teach it. Back to the current song - stick to the Am, C, D, E, and F chords. Pick, don't strum." 

"But there's a C/E chord?"

"We'll get to it. One step at a time, short stuff."

The words burned Lucifer's soul, bringing him back to a moment he'd heard the same thing...

"One step at a time, short stuff!" Adam laughed, watching as Damian dragged himself from the water.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, amused at his son's pout.

"I did!" Damian whined, shaking wetness from his platinum blond hair. "Dad! I was doing it! Didn't you see?"

"I'm watching, Dami," Lucifer assured, sitting up from the sunbed. 

With a determined glare, Damian scurried to the shallow end of the pool. The sound of his tiny feet hitting the tiles was hilarious, almost like a duck.

Assuming the boy would fall again, Asmodeus and Beelzebub shuffled closer to the shallows. He couldn't swim yet.

Lilith slightly lowered her book, observing as their son readied himself, his cheeks blown like a stuffed chipmunk.

"You're pulling the molecules to your feet," Adam said, looking ridiculous with those sunglasses. 

"Like my toy magnets. Yeah!"

"Damagnet!" Satan snickered, earning a slap upside the head from an unamused Asmodeus.

Lucifer watched as Damian took one step atop the water's surface, doing his best to follow his uncle's instructions. It's advanced, but Damian wouldn't stop pestering his mother after he saw her do it, so Adam sacrificed himself to try and teach the kid. 

His son was always a gifted child, advancing faster than anticipated, but he was still a kid. He's only ten. 

The surface held, sending ripples fanning from the change of pressure.

"One at a time. Focus. You're balancing on a tightrope you can't see," Adam advised, showing his nephew how to do it.

The child had silvery green eyes of wonder and eagerness, burning with the passion to succeed and triumph. His eyes prompted Lilith to suggest his name; they were so much like Adam's, but with Lilith's flare, they named him after the first man. Remove the I and the N, and it's a rearrangement of Adam's name.

Lucifer was more than happy to go along with it.

Even so, the boy had more stubbornness than both firsts combined. 

He couldn't feel more proud of the little Prince.

His face going red in concentration, Damian took another step, struggling to keep the surface tension tight and support his weight. It was adorable to see his little tail waving like mad.

Alas, his son inherited his parents' tendency to act before thought. Before learning to walk, he tried to run. Anticipating this, Bee and Ozzie were prepared to catch him when he inevitably fell.

But Damian got further than last time, staying on his toes to reduce how much surface he needed. Though it didn't last, he got decently far.

Not wanting to fall in again, the boy jumped onto the pool mattress Mammon was lazily sleeping on. While Damian succeeded, he accidentally pushed the King of Greed into the water, providing a rude awakening.

The shock of Mammon's panicked yelp caused Adam to lose concentration and fall in, laughing hysterically with Beelzebub and Ozzie.

"Fuck me!" Mammon shouted, hacking up water. With his fur wet, he looked like a drowned rat. "Little dingo nearly killed me!"

Damian stuck his tongue out.

"We can dream," Lilith smirked, returning to her book. She swiftly returned a middle finger after Mammon threw one at her.

Unwilling to be beaten, the bug sin raised all four of his middle fingers, waving them mockingly.

Belphegor briefly rose her head from her sunbed before quickly going back to sleep. Not even the horn of judgement day could keep that woman awake.

"Doing great, Dami!" Lucifer complimented, smiling at his son's reaction.

How his baby beamed with pride and excitement. It was beautiful.

How his baby had lain there, cold and pale, eyes glazed over, blood painting his once soft lavender skin. He looked so much like Lilith that it was frightening.

The image of his baby boy's remains would haunt him for eternity.

"Luci."

Lucifer blinked, returning to the present.

Young Emily was looking at him not with pity or disgust but with understanding. That hurt more than the reactions he was used to. 

"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned. 

She even sounded similar to his Charlotte.

"It's flaring," Lucifer said, distancing himself from those old feelings that clung to him like parasites. "Do you have anything for it?"

"I can handle that," Em said, confident.

"That's my job, shorty. Keep hold of that while you're practising - it can take a hit if you get pissed," Adam informed, nodding towards the door. "You need the sleep, anyway. Can imagine all the stupid shit that brat's going to put us through tomorrow."

"If you're sure, Addie," Em accepted, hopping off the frankly too-small bed. "See you in the morning, Lucifer!" she waved, going to her chosen room across the hall.

In the moments Lucifer had been lost in his mind, the shaking had grown noticeably in Adam's hands. Though the angel suppressed his signs well, he struggled when tired. 

The angel seemed to relent to Lucifer's unasked question, his wings drooping slightly.

"It's manageable," he brushed off, but Lucifer didn't believe that.

"In about ten minutes, you won't be able to hold a cup of water. That's not manageable." 

Adam grumbled, his wings ruffling in irritation.

"I've only got a limited supply. Can't waste it on shit like shaking hands."

"It's never just the shaking hands, though. It doesn't even start with that. I'm not as stupid as I used to be."

Debatable.

"What makes you think you used to be stupid?"

"Well, I've done many stupid things. Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?"

"I don't have all century."

"Fuck you," Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes at the first man's smartass mouth. "Where's the kit?"

He moved his tail, pointing at one of the bags he'd haphazardly dumped in here. As Lucifer expected, there was little besides the regular stuff needed for travel. Finding the kit that Jophiel made was easy.

"You were a fucking idiot for picking that thing up," Adam said, deciding to provide an excellent example of stupidity.

Lucifer looked at his blackened hands, recalling how much it hurt, how it burned, to wield Adam's axe. It scorched him, such holy energy overwhelming him. However, Lucifer did what he had to.

He'd do it again.

"You did the same for me countless times, idiot," Lucifer sighed, rummaging through the packed kit. There's much more than the last time he got to see it. "I wasn't going to let you die. Not after how far we'd come."

And especially not from his hands.

Though Lucifer's hands and lower arms were forever scarred from those brief moments, he didn't regret cutting that fucker's wing off. It felt good. It was justice, though not as much as he deserved.

Lucifer used a scythe in combat. An axe was very different, and he failed to cut that bastard's head as he wanted to. Even so, he crippled the beast. 

Those were strange days, where armour became another layer of skin. As Damian said, they learned to fight, and some of them got damn good at it. It wasn't a shock for anyone when Adam led the exorcists - few remaining could hold such a responsibility.

Considering that, for the most part, those girls kept to the rules and avoided hell-born, he led them well.

He always had. It was remarkable how natural it came to him in a warzone. He preferred to fight alongside his fellow warriors rather than stand back. It's something that Lucifer desperately tried to replicate.

Even after centuries of battle, Lucifer couldn't lead his way out of a paper bag. He was always a better follower.

"Your brat recognised Equinox."

Lucifer was confused, pausing briefly.

"Why wouldn't she?" he asked, removing a vial of fluid. Jophiel was nice enough to leave instructions for Em, but Lucifer didn't need them. "We told her about... parts of it. The nice bits. Heroics and all."

"You shouldn't have. She's too much like him."

She was. It's astounding how similar Charlotte was to Damian, though she lacked his distinctive fire and confidence. In hindsight, telling her the heroics of such an event may have unintentionally influenced her.

Without Damian, it wouldn't have happened. His strength and flames were needed to bring Gadreel to such majestic heights, to declare an end to a tyrant's reign. 

They named him after Adam. He and Damian had been inseparable for a long time; the man knew more about parenting than he and Lilith combined, so they relied on him for advice. In exchange, Lucifer looked for Eve and his other children but never found them.

He knew they were out there. Somewhere. He never stopped looking.

Losing Damian was like Abel all over again for Adam. Even though it nearly killed him, he retrieved Damian's body, allowing them to put the true hero to rest.

It took a long time to accept it and to finally ask Gabriel what did it, what took his baby's life. 

Metatron had torn his son's throat out. Hauntingly, Gabriel recited what the monster had said.

"You think yourself a hero, boy? Then you shall die like one - silenced!"

Another reason why Adam had so many issues when it came to his neck.

"She is," Lucifer acknowledged. He was hurt but also proud. "She's as stubborn as you two. She's very adamant about this redemption idea. And Gabriel seems to agree."

"We tried. It was a waste. As was all of that fucking mess."

"Not all of it," the King said, removing a specialised needle. He pushed it past the seal, removing a set amount of the pinkish fluid. "We got him away from you."

It took far too long for that to finally happen.

He noticed how the first man stiffened. The things that Metatron did to him out of boredom and macabre curiosity were beyond atrocious. It went on for too long. He knew firsthand why Metatron had to be stopped. 

Only Jophiel knew the true extent. It was impossible to get it out of him willingly.

In some fucked up way, Lucifer was sure that Metatron convinced him that he deserved it. It's manipulation, another part of his horrid games.

"Lilith doesn't think so."

Lucifer had to pause again, ice filling his veins.

"You've seen her...?"

"No. Gabriel wouldn't allow it. I only know because Peter told me."

He knew what Lilith wanted to do.

What did that feel like? Knowing your twin was willing to sacrifice you?

Deep down, Lucifer feared that he would've accepted.

It was hard enough losing Damian and watching Lilith abandon their daughter. He couldn't stand losing Adam, too. 

They're the terrible trio - it'd been that way for thousands of years. Even if their relationship had become estranged over the years, it still meant a lot. 

Too few understood Lucifer. And while Lilith had left, he hadn't.

He's still here.

"I couldn't go with her. What she wanted... I can't lose you. Either of you. Nobody else understands like you both."

"Aren't we fucking sad? Pathetic."

"Maybe. But we're pathetic together, aren't we? We're sharing this shit sandwich."

"Get your own. I don't share food."

"Even ones as terrible as this?"

"A literal shit sandwich is a step above those heinous rations."

"Don't get me started. I still have night terrors over those atrocious things!"

"Join the club, shorty."

It's not a joke. They were genuinely awful. 

He'd sooner cut his arm off than eat those rations willingly. They were vile but easy to make and could be produced quickly. It got everyone the nutrients they needed to fight, even if it came at the cost of their taste buds.

It was like eating a cement brick.

As the mood was lightened, his oldest friend wasn't as nervous as before. He hid it well; Luci gave him that. 

"Jacket off, big guy. Let's get it over with."

Adam had a lot of issues due to the war and Metatron's cruelty, not to mention only having half of a soul, the other half begging for reunification. It wasn't pleasant; he knew that to be an understatement.

It was only just that Jophiel created something to make the pain tolerable. For the regular flare-ups, pills were fine, but Lucifer recognised the signs of a bad one - ones that required invasive care.

A solution only Jophiel knew the contents of injected directly into the spinal cord, soothing the agitated nerves. It would knock him out for a few hours, but he needed it.

As requested, the angel removed the leather jacket that Lucifer always envied. He never looked good in those, no matter how hard he tried. The shirt was next, some Earth band he wasn't familiar with. 

Without those uniform robes or casual wear, he was a marvel to see. Under the softness that had grown over the decades, muscle remained stubborn. 

Only a handful of people were allowed this close. To see the marks left behind from aeons of hardship. Once upon a time, they belonged to a man brimming with hope and determination for more than the corruption they suffered under.

They all lost part of themselves to that war. It would never leave them, and not a moment went by when they weren't confronted with its aftermath.

It was only four thousand years ago. In terms of how long they've existed, that's nothing. 

Wings spread wide, golden and proud. He couldn't help but look at the four symmetrical indentations in his skin, remnants of what once was.

A sacrifice for victory. One that Lucifer hadn't even considered. Giving up so much power willingly had never been done before or since.

Lucifer couldn't hide his smile, enjoying the tanned skin with those cute patches of paleness. It's like a bronze ocean with alabaster islands. Modern humans dubbed it vitiligo; Eve also had this, and she lovingly compared herself to her favourite animal, a cow.

It distracted him from the scars. Not the small ones. The large, angry ones that tugged at the skin as though they had hooks or teeth.

He would always see the one where Eve came from, though. The noticeable dip in the flesh from where Metatron had torn that rib without comprehending the consequences - the start of his fall into depravity and sadism. 

Lucifer's dark hands trailed the skin like a quill over a map. He found the regular spot above where the tail protruded from his body. Amusingly, around the base of it were feathers; they didn't know why there were feathers at either end, but Lucifer always thought they were cute.

Wings tensed as he gently pushed the needle through, directing the fluid directly into the spine. 

He didn't know why Jophiel made it this way, but it wasn't like he could question her. As he slid it out, he watched the metal sterilise itself.

After packing it away again, he observed the effects already beginning to show. While the shaking had slowed significantly, the way his tail went limp was a loud sign that he'd probably conk out soon.

"You're not sleeping with that on."

"Who said I'm going to sleep?"

"I won't take it off for you."

It's not chastising. He couldn't touch the underside without possibly touching his neck, and that would insight a burst of panic he didn't need right now.

A simple thing that Metatron had ruined, much like many things. 

"Fuck sake. Fine," the former human relented, unclasping and removing the annoying thing.

Lucifer finally got to see his eyes again.

In Eden, those eyes shined like emeralds. When he ascended, they became a magnificent gold.

But when Lucifer looked into the left eye, he saw a murky, cloudy green that could hardly focus, scorched by the magnitude of light exuded when he sacrificed being a seraph to win.

They didn't even know it was possible to give up that position, that power. Doing it had blinded him in the left eye - it had only perceived blurry shapes at best. One of the reasons he wore that mask. It helped him see.

Lucifer could tell, though. It's gotten worse since he last saw it. Thankfully, the deterioration was slow, but they all knew that, eventually, it'd be shrouded in total darkness. 

He looks so tired, more than physically exhausted but weary of being around for so long, constantly compressed by the weight of loss and regret. 

The King desperately wished that he could take that away.

"When did she leave?" Adam asked, possibly spotting Lucifer's regret over.

It was his fault. He earned ire, not sympathy. 

"Seven years ago," Lucifer sighed. "Charlotte doesn't know. I just told her that you and Lilith were twins this morning."

"Seriously?"

"Well, I assumed she knew, but I cocked up the explanation. And... she doesn't know about him."

Lucifer understood the flash of confusion changing into one of anger.

"She doesn't know about Damian."

The anger melted into disappointment, which was somehow worse.

"We never talked about it. How much it hurt when we lost him. We... couldn't bear to relive it, so we tried to move on - we ran away from it. We never thought we'd have another chance, but then Charlotte came. We were so scared, Adam. Terrified that we'd lose her too."

"And yet, she's following his dream. All she's missing is his confidence and knowledge, and she'd be an identical copy."

Some moments had made Lucifer feel ill. He'd never blame Charlie for that; she was a beautiful and kind soul.

It was one of his many failings. 

"How did you do it? After Abel. You had five other kids."

One of which was partially responsible.

Cain had killed Abel on accident, contrary to most's understanding of the tale. 

Lucifer had been sympathetic, but he didn't understand the gravity of that loss until Damian. It's not something you can explain. It's being digested by your grief and spat back out but expected to continue like you're fine.

"It wasn't a choice. I would've loved to hide in a hole somewhere, but they needed me. That was enough to keep going, even though I wanted to stop. It didn't go away; it became background noise, another thing to live with."

"Did you ever talk to Seth about it? He was a baby at the time."

"I tried to, but Seth... was unique. Jophiel thinks he was the first autistic kid. I'd argue that's you."

"I don't know if that's a compliment, an insult or both."

"I'll use descriptive."

"Any advice on how I talk to her? Because she's going to ask. And I'm scared to tell her."

"I'll give you the same advice I gave Vaggie. It's better for you than someone else."

Why was that name familiar? It kept bugging him.

Lucifer didn't know if he could, though.

He watched the first man lay on his side, visibly losing hold of the conscious plane.

Not long now.

"I'll try. I'm not strong like you two. I can't... I'm a coward."

"If you're a coward, Luci, I'm Nikki Minaj."

The King snorted, caught off guard by the bizarre comparison. 

Before he could retort, however, the man was out cold. 

He didn't think that Lucifer was a coward. What could've possibly led him to believe that?

"See you in the morning," Lucifer sighed, tugging a blanket over the man's form.

Though Hell was naturally warm, he didn't want Adam to get uncomfortable. It made him a pain in the ass when he woke up.

Not wanting to seem creepy, Lucifer left, shutting the door behind him. 

"Dad?"

"Charlie!" Lucifer yelped, almost pissing himself in fright. "Uh. Hey? How are you?"

"Why were you in Adam's room?"

"We were just talking. Catching up and stuff," Lucifer shrugged.

It's not like he's lying.

He's glad they talked. It felt good. 

It was strange how his daughter didn't believe him, though. Then again, he's lied about so much already.

"It's just... you and Mom never talked about him before. But now you're like best buddies, and he was Mom's brother - I'm still confused about that."

"I'm sorry," he sighed, guilt piercing his cowardly hide. "They weren't talking by the time you were born, and we didn't know how to explain things to you at that age. A poor excuse, I realise that now. There's so much that I should've told you but was scared to."

"Scared? What of?" Charlie questioned, her confusion turning to concern.

If only he weren't alone in this.

"Everything, Char. All of my mistakes, my failures, how we failed to do better after finally beating him. It was supposed to be so much more than this... things obviously changed for the better, but it doesn't always feel like it. Sometimes, I feel like I made it worse."

"But you won?"

"No, Charlie. Sure, we won the war, but we lost... so much that sometimes I wonder if it was even worth it. I-I can't right now, but I'll tell you in the morning. You deserve to hear it. All of it."

His daughter was uncomfortable, perhaps even scared of what Lucifer had kept from her.

She should be. His secrets were twisted and horrible, as was that nasty war. So many days, Lucifer was angry that he allowed his son and wife to fight. Others, he despaired not joining them sooner.

So much regret. He couldn't change a damn thing about any of it. The helplessness was almost as bad as the pain itself.

"Ok," Charlie said, visibly unsure. "Did Adam say anything to bring this up?"

"I should have a long time ago. A very long time ago. He just gave me the push I needed."

Once again, he's motivating Lucifer out of his recreant, craven ways.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't blame you for hating me, Char. I'm sorry to dump this on you before you go to sleep. Rest up, alright? I just need a few minutes."

He wanted to hug and apologise for everything he kept from her, but he was too weak.

He was always too weak.

What could Adam ever see in him that wasn't cowardly?

Chapter Text

The under-web was going insane over Lucifer and Adam's little game. As he was unnamed, they began calling his father the Hellraiser. It was more apt than they likely thought, given that his father desired razing Hell to nothingness.

Zestial was nervous about how to proceed, but unlike him, Rosie was confident. She believed their father would be ecstatic to see them all again, that he was still a big softie. If he weren't, he wouldn't have forgiven Cain. 

But Zestial wasn't nearly as positive as his sister. He knew that their father wasn't the same man that raised them. Too much time had passed, and even more had occurred. 

Especially that event.

As they were some of the first humans in Hell, they were there for it. Instead of being soldiers, they assisted in manufacturing armour and weapons. Their mother had a little too much fun testing the explosives.

Their new appearances, names, and Rosie's freedom from the incorrect sex kept them hidden. 

Zestial became the first Overlord at this period, doing his best to manage the sinners as they increased by the day. The influence of Metatron was potent and cruel. 

He didn't blame his father for giving up. It was unreasonable to ask for more than he gave. 

If only Zestial had asked for advice when it came to relationships. That would make this daunting task less so.

For aeons, Zestial tried his damndest to distance himself. Alas, he was a simple human, unable to keep his eyes from wandering. Few had caught his gaze like the spitfire of Carmilla Carmina, a former cartel member from Colombia. She worked for a fellow known as Pablo - she didn't speak highly of him.

Strange Earth squabbles he had no understanding of. He knew the basics of Earth, such as countries, and thanks to his birth before the Tower of Babel, he understood all languages, even if he couldn't repeat them. 

When Carmilla rose to Overlord status, he paid attention. She had many amusing comments in Spanish, often insults the others didn't understand besides Valentino, but none cared for his opinion, not even Vox and Velvette. They had a peculiar three-way relationship with the irritating moth.

Why? Not even the long-dead God knew.

Being the first son of the first man provided several unique abilities in death. He developed arts one would consider unnatural, even for Hell. His elder sister birthed what is now the Goetia, providing generations of magic for him to hone and perfect. 

Anāq, Cain, Aclima, Rosie, Azura and Seth - the first six to be birthed, not made. Of course, that often raised the question of "how did humanity populate without incest?"

The answer is that his father is a loophole-cheating bastard who figured out how to get around it. Though Zestial never learned the skill - he didn't want to curse the new human race with his tainted soul - he had watched his parents gather mud, and his father would essentially take a piece of his soul to give them new life. 

As any in Hell can attest, souls regenerate unless harmed by outside forces such as angelic weapons. Over time, they recover, though there are occasional indications of previous injuries.

His father had made over a hundred people by the time he died. It was untimely and tragic. Small Seth had gotten scared by a thunderstorm and ran into the wilds. They all searched for him.

His father caught up to Seth first; the boy had climbed into a tree to hide from the wild fauna that hungered for a vulnerable child of nine. His little brother had a favourite tree with a decently hefty branch that extended over a - usually calm - stream. That night, it was a raging maw of hungry rapids. 

It was almost as angry as the animal that chased him up there in the first place. The more official name was the short-faced cave bear, but his father lovingly called them "big bastard bears". 

The "big bastard bear" sought to feast upon Seth. The moment that Zestial arrived, his father threw a rock at it, trying to get it away from the terrified child.

He wished he could forget. It was haunting the day he lost his father.

"Dad!" Cain yelled, watching his father jump in without a moment of hesitation.

The wind was bitter and stung like a nest of wasps. The threat of losing another brother rang in Cain's mind, screaming at him not to fail again. Last time, he did nothing to save his brother; he couldn't do that again. He had to find Seth and make up for his mistake.

"Seth!" he called, desperate for either of them to respond.

Nine years since Abel died. It never left him, the image of his younger brother lying dead in his parents' arms.

He heard a yell and a roar, urging the young man to pick up the pace. He hated how the rain stabbed into his face, but he couldn't stop. 

Cain jumped over fallen trees, logs and foliage, racing like a rabid fox. He didn't want to lose another brother. He couldn't.

Another yell, this one far closer. It sounded like his dad.

The young man almost fell onto his face, making it near a familiar spot. It had Seth's favourite tree around here, next to a river that was usually calm. The storm had changed that, however.

He saw his father staring down a short-faced cave bear, possibly pushed from its den due to the storm. It was sniffing up a particular tree, and Cain saw what it was looking for.

Seth was clinging to a branch, frozen with terror. 

When dad noticed Cain, he had his hand out, telling the young man to remain hidden. So long as the bear didn't see him, it wouldn't attack him. 

"Come at me, you big ugly bitch!" his father yelled, gaining the bear's attention. It gruffed, annoyed by his dad's show. "That's it, ugly. Focus on me!"

Cain watches as his father backs away, briefly looking at him and then nodding to Seth.

He distracts the bear, and Cain gets Seth; it's a poor plan but the best his father has. 

His dad yelled again, making the bear stand on its hind legs, roaring. Because his father was insane, he threw a rock at its head.

With the bear solely focused on his father, Cain could start climbing. He wasn't nearly as good as Seth, but it was enough.

"Let's go," Cain whispered, getting closer to his baby sibling.

The rushing river beneath them roared, its jaws opening and snapping, starved for them. It scared him, but Cain had to focus on Seth. If his dad could have a screaming match with a bear, Cain could climb a tree.

His brother met Cain's eyes, shaking with cold and fear. He couldn't blame the boy; the bear only accentuated his fright. Any reasonable person would be afraid of it.

Seth shook his head, eyes brimming with tears.

"We gotta go!" Cain urged, trying to get closer without putting too much weight on the damp branch.

Thunder shrieked above as if insulting them. It made Seth freeze up, struggling to keep his crying quiet. After the thunder came lightning, a sharp bolt striking the tree they were in. They screamed, the tree shaking and beginning to collapse.

Cain watched his father almost shove the bear aside as he raced to their tree. The animal, spooked by the lightning, took off.

"Dad!" Cain called.

His fingers began to bruise from the pressure he kept on the wood. 

"Hold on!" dad shouted.

The tree fell, sending them into the swirling and furious water. His grip was lost, and Cain was swept away, struggling to keep his head above the water's surface. Meanwhile, Seth was crying; unlike Cain, he couldn't swim.

It bit at Cain's skin, cold seeping into his bones and fluid penetrating his mouth and making home in his lungs. It hurt, and it was so hard to see. 

As the young man kicked desperately, fighting to stay up, he felt a large arm wrap around his chest. He couldn't help but cling to his dad, terrified.

"I got you!" Dad said, hugging Cain dearly. "Don't let go!"

Cain didn't need to be told twice, closing his eyes. He held onto his father's body, feeling his racing heart, trying to concentrate on his warmth in the frigid waters. 

He didn't know how long they were tossed and thrown, only that his dad kept him shielded from it.

Finally, he felt Seth clinging to them, crying and coughing.

They were jolted, causing Cain to open his eyes and see that Dad was holding onto a rock, his fingers bleeding from his grip.

With strength that Cain could only dream of having, their father pulled them closer to it, using one of his legs to help them up it. 

Cain helped Seth out first, quickly following. He held out his hand for his dad, desperate to be helpful. Not wanting to pull him in again, their dad got out himself.

He could see bruises, likely from debris he'd shielded them from in the river.

Seth grabbed onto Dad's leg, mumbling incoherently. Out of breath, all their dad could do was pat his head.

A crack startles Cain, quickly looking for the origin, hoping it isn't that bear. Before he could find it, he and Seth were shoved to the soaked floor with their dad covering them.

He was sore from the force, confused and shivering. When the young man turned his head, he saw a tree. It was large, old and had collapsed on top of them. 

Most noticeable, however, was the broken branch sticking through his father's chest and abdomen. He almost couldn't fathom what he was seeing.

"Dad?" Cain whimpered, frightened by the red leaking from around the wood. "Dad!"

His father didn't seem to notice, too focused on keeping Cain and Seth safe. 

"Cain-" his father pushed through grit teeth, startling green eyes locked onto his. "Take Seth. Go. Now."

Cain didn't want to leave his dad behind. He was scared, his eyes following the trail of blood leaving his father's mouth. His large arms wavered, struggling with the weight.

The young man grabbed his brother, pulling him away from under their father. The boy fought, biting Cain's arm and screaming for his dad.

"Dad..." Cain repeated, watching the fight leaving his father's body. 

For so long, he considered his dad invincible, only able to be slain by an angel or demon. But it was neither being that pierced his father's chest; it was a tree fallen by a violent storm. It would've killed Cain and Seth both.

Panic burning in his throat like fire, Cain dropped Seth, running to push the fallen ancient from his father's back. It was heavy, more than the young man could move. It would take over ten of them to budge the titanic wooden carcass. 

And his dad had held it up, alone, long enough for them to get free. If his strength continued to wane, it would crush him.

"Move!" Cain ordered, desperate. 

Little Seth tried to help, pushing as well. The child did nothing to aid against its bulk. Both could feel it lower as their dad dropped to his elbows, losing the fight.

"Go!" he heard his dad command, his usually strong voice straining. 

"I'm not leaving you!" Cain shouted, the rain doing nothing to hide the fluid streaming from his eyes. "I won't let you die. I can't kill anyone else!"

"Listen to me," Dad began, sounding much weaker than Cain could stomach. "You... it wasn't your fault. Not Abel, and not this... take your brother home. I'll be alright..."

He knew otherwise. They both did, but Seth didn't. He didn't understand death yet.

Seth knew something was wrong, just not what precisely.

Dad was asking Cain to shield his brother from seeing it. Knowing what it looked like to see someone die like this. He probably didn't want Cain to see it, either.

What could Cain do but pick Seth up? His heart was pounding in his ears.

"I'm sorry..." was all Cain could say, shaking. "I'm sorry, dad."

"Don't be," their dad said, cocking that usual smirk of his, though now tainted with blood and exhaustion. "Love you boys... all of you..."

There's the silent plea to go now. 

Cain answered, shielding Seth with his body as he ran. The boy yelled, reaching out for his dad, not understanding why he couldn't follow them back.

The smell of blood was still strong, increasing his panic and fear. How could he come home with another integral piece missing?

He didn't know how long he ran before collapsing, his legs exhausted and burning from strain. He couldn't let go of Seth, struggling not to throw up.

When his mother and big sister found them, he didn't know. He couldn't.

"Where's your father?" Mom asked, relieved to see them ok.

Cain could say nothing, terror and anguish blocking air from his lungs. He could hardly meet his mother's gaze, unable to find the words to explain what'd happened.

It was his fault.

"Dad's lookin' after Abbie now," Seth said, breaking his usual silence. As the boy didn't understand death, how else could he process the situation?

The implication alone was all their mom needed. Relief fell to fear, to a grief only seen once before.

His mother let go, running in the direction they'd come from. 

Anāq embraced Cain and Seth, her breath frigid and failing to remain composed. She knew what was behind them and that their mother couldn't go alone. It was an apology for not being able to stay.

When she let go and raced to catch up, Cain waited for what he knew would arrive.

Thunder struck again, echoing in his ears and into his bones... but it didn't come from the sky.

It was his fault.

He came to terms with it in time. Thousands of years did that. 

Even though he knew logically that it wasn't his fault, it felt like it regardless. 

Imagine Zestial's shock when he found Rosie and eventually all of them. None of them had gone to Heaven besides their father, meaning he was alone.

Over a hundred thousand years of separation. It would be more than reasonable to try and forget. 

Now, for whatever reason, their father was in Hell. He's within arm's reach. It's so close to reunification, but Zestial was afraid. Time had changed him, and it would've done the same for Adam.

Was that the same man who gave up his life for Seth and humanity's first failure?

While Rosie believed so, he was sceptical. He could only keep his sister at bay for so long before she went to that blasted hotel herself. Or she used Alastor to lure their father out. It was a matter of time.

When that happened, everyone would eventually discover Zestial's identity. The first sinner - he didn't count Rosie; she didn't belong in Hell. Originally. Her cannibalism admittedly earned her place down here. He couldn't judge her; he's done far worse things than manslaughter since his demise.

He wanted Carmilla to know first. He had to tell her and give her a choice before everyone found out. Did she want to stay with a mistake? He wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

The fact that she killed one of Adam's exorcist creatures would complicate matters no matter how amicable the reunification. And it was only so long until the others would discover the secret to killing angelic beings - their weapons, humorously.

Zestial knew that Alastor was there. He had to keep an eye on that slippery demon who already knew Rosie's secret due to their close friendship. If not for the fact Alastor would sooner turn vegetarian than engage in coitus, he'd be suspicious of their closeness.

Since he's revealing himself to Carmilla after this, he invited one of his sisters - Azura, or Madam Webb, as she liked to be called now. She's the Overlord of the Doomsday District but made it clear in the past that she didn't care for the others besides Zestial and Rosie. 

His baby sister had quite the flare for dramatics and a possible fling with Zilla, Overlord of the Kaiju Nightclub brand. 

Many other Overlords share Azura's distaste for Carmilla's attempt at organisation, preferring to stick to their little territories and niches. Hopefully, Azura wouldn't react poorly when she discovered what they were going to be discussing,

At least it isn't Aclima. She never got control of her temper.

"Ah. Zestial. It's good to see you," Carmilla greeted, waiting for him to sit beside her. "You seem discontent today."

"I apologise. I have a lot on my mind."

"No need for that. We can discuss it after our meeting. Clara, Odette, are you prepared?"

The girls nodded, eager to appease their mother.

That was something that Zestial could relate to. However, if it got nice enough with Carmilla, could he be a stepfather to these young women? It was a daunting task, even more than what he would tell their mother.

Hello. I'm the first murderer. I promise that I won't hurt your mom!

That wouldn't work.

Why couldn't he have inherited his father's charisma? Or what is it that Velvette calls it? The Riza? Something stupid like that. 

He'll never bother trying to understand that girl, nor why she wanted to hang around demons like Vox and Valentino.

As Carmilla expressed urgency, there would no doubt be a fight between him and Alastor. If he were a betting demon, he'd put money on Vox having a one-sided crush that turned sour. 

Husker was evidence enough as to why that was a poor title. Poor bastard.

Perhaps his father had befriended the feline? That would be cute. 

He observed as, one by one, the Overlords that gave a toss showed themselves. A majority of them were - shocker - a no-show. 

"I had to cut a filming shoot short for this!" Valentino whined, behaving like a toddler. "What the fuck do you want, puta?"

"Thee shouldst be mindful of thy manners, Valentino. Must I provideth a lesson?" Zestial warned, his four eyes locking with the moth.

It was a battle that the buffoon wouldn't dare challenge. He had no power beyond his pheromones. Unlike many weak-willed souls, Zestial was immune, and he had no contract to be taunted with.

Knowing better than to try, the moth sat, grumbling in Spanish.

"Got some snark, do you, fossil?" Velvette cackled, roughly sitting on Valentono's lap. "You all sad, baby cakes? Want me to kiss your wounded ego better?"

"I will flay you, bitch!"

"Keep it in the bedroom, guys," Zilla sighed, bored already. She perked up when Madam Webb entered the room, slicking back her black hair. "Heya, whore! Since when do you attend these things?"

"Since Zesty asked for a favour," Azura smirked, removing her oversized dark magenta coat. She had a spider-like body, six arms ready to shoot at anyone that pissed her off. "You look awful, big Z."

"Broken the lasteth of thy mirrors, has thee? forgotten what grace looks liketh?" Zestial teased, unable to resist annoying his baby sister.

She provided six middle fingers, sitting beside Zilla.

Weirdly late compared to Val and Vel, Vox made his appearance, stealing a seat beside them. He was oddly eager. That did not mean good news.

Lastly, Alastor and Rosie arrived. No Crossbones today? What a shame. He enjoyed the Romanian's old jokes.

His other sister sat with her best friend, deliberately keeping him from looking at Vox. 

This would be amusing one way or another.

"We have a problem," Carmilla began as her daughter Clara pulled in a screen for a projector. It showed his father playing the guitar. His masked face was cocky yet at peace. "We have identified this individual as Adam, leader of the exorcists."

He didn't need to ask how. The mask was easily identifiable.

Carmilla's eyes went to Alastor, almost accusingly.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Valentino questioned, barely paying attention as his second set of arms played with Velvette's hair. 

"Why don't you elaborate on that, Alastor? He is at the Princess' hotel," Carmilla continued.

"Nothing of note! One of the angels above took pity on the delusional girl's pipe dream and sent a tiny girl to "assist". Laughable! Adam is merely there to ensure her safety," the radio demon stated, but Zestial knew this demon.

There are many ways that Alastor smiles. Today, he was nervous, doing his best to hold his tongue while appearing disinterested.

For now, Zestial would play along.

"Doest this imply redemption is possible?" Zestial questioned, not that he cared for an answer. He didn't believe in Heaven, not after he saw the monsters that originated from there. "If true and Heaven supports the princess' plans, perhaps we shouldst reconsider our stance on this delusion."

He was lying through his teeth, and Carmilla knew it. It was his first indicator to her that something was wrong.

"Why the fuck would we want to go up there? It's awesome down here!" Zilla countered.

"Not all of us belong here, dearie," Rosie added, briefly looking into Zestial's eyes before turning to Carmilla. "Take your girls, for instance. What sins have they to earn a ticket to eternal damnation and an exorcist's blade? If it's possible to get to them pearly gates, they deserve it."

Clara and Odette blushed, surprised by the usually quiet cannibal's words.

It appeared that Carmilla considered this fact. Her eyes were doing that thing where she looked like she was scowling, but she was deep in thought.

"Oh!" Val said, realising something. "That's why my little helpers didn't come back with my property. That bastard killed them!"

Given Valentino, it's likely that spider demon, Angel Dust. He was familiar with his father and brother, Henroin and Arackniss. 

Henroin was an Overlord once, but Zestial was insulted by the arrogance of the scorpion-spider hybrid, and he made the mistake of harassing his mother. He ensured the man had no choice but to submit to him. Nobody gets to treat his mother like that.

One of the many souls that were under Zestial's proverbial belt.

"If he hadn't, I would've," Alastor snarked, irritating the trio. "You aren't allowed to interfere with my entertainment, and the drama brewing is delectable."

Bullshit.

"I heard the magic word. Spill it, babes," Velvette grinned, starving for "the tea". 

Modern slang is strange.

"Besides the ease with which this angelic buffoon spits on the Princess' futile endeavours, it would have to be Lucifer. There is quite the intrigue in how the useless man can never take his eyes away. If any were to try repeating what occurred to that exorcist with Adam, even if they succeeded - which I significantly doubt - they would have to endure the King's less than positive reaction."

Bullshit. He didn't give a single flying damn about Adam or Lucifer.

The only reason he's trying to remove the inevitable question of eliminating his father is because of Rosie.

Though the red demon has a heart of coal and ice, some flame flickered for his only friend and confidant. Beyond her, the radio fanatic was alone. Even degenerate, pathetic psychopaths yearn for companionship.

Further information that Carmilla absorbed. Good.

She's the one that slew the exorcist, after all.

"The fallen angel has got the hots for the head exorcist? Damn. That must be why these stupid exterminations happen. It's an excuse for them to fuck!" Zilla cackled.

Zestial knew that wasn't true. That could change, though. He didn't know how he felt about that.

"But it's doable," Vox continued, concerning the ancient ones. "An exorcist is still an angel. He can die. With the head exorcist gone, it'd be a message that we aren't some little bitches to get killed for sport. And it's not like Lucifer would be missed."

"Whatever killed the exorcist would affect Lucifer, given he's still partially an angel, fallen or otherwise," Velvette continued, grinning. 

They already suspected that Carmilla was responsible. So long as he kept his sort of partner from being swayed, they wouldn't learn the cause.

"The fact Adam hast yet to eradicate us all should be considered. We hath killed one of his soldiers - that shall not be forgotten. And if true that Lucifer could die by mortal hands, he would've by now." 

"The extermination is in a month. We can't sit back and do nothing!" Vox yelled, fuming. "Why are the Vees the only ones willing to take up arms and fight?"

"And what army would you fight with? A platoon of porn stars? A battalion of fashionistas? An armada of tech enthusiasts? That's no fight. It's a slaughter. Not even a tasty one."

"At least we're trying to do something unlike you old cunts," Valentino seethed, his insult to Rosie causing Alastor to both scowl at him, power showing in his eyes. 

Like a coward, the moth backed down. 

Azura snickered, amused at the pathetic attempt to look dominant.

While Val didn't have the spine to argue with Alastor, Vox was another story.

"As if you've got a shot, deer fucker. You live there now! You could be useful for once and help us by getting rid of those fuckers, but you're too busy jerking it to some fag angel and a mannequin with a paper crown!"

Before Zestial could retaliate at the insult, Azura pulled out one of her guns and shot Vox in his ridiculous flatscreen face, cracking the screen.

"Warned you not to use that word last time, Virgil!" Azura hissed, her pedipalps clicking angrily.

Zestial could only sigh as the table flipped, Valentino and Velvette ready to fight Azura and Zilla, both sides supporting their partners.

If Rosie didn't seem similarly irked by Vox's slur, Alastor would've done nothing. He was only supporting her; he didn't care otherwise.

"Don't you life-name him, you dyke!" Valentino sneered, his wings flaring with anger.

"Big talk coming from a wimpy, rapist nobody!" Zilla snarled, towering over all of them. "Nobody calls my girlfriend that!"

Full-demonic forms were showing, the heat in the room rising. Humanoid people shifted into unholy beasts, ready to go at each other's throats.

A gunshot shattered the tension, causing everyone to look at Carmilla, her angelic pistol still smoking. The arms dealer looked composed, though her wrath was evident in her steely gaze.

With an unspoken promise uttered to all in the room, everyone returned to their seats. The table was still on the other side of the meeting room.

When Vox was going to make another comment, clutching the glitching cracked glass, Carmilla only snapped her glare to him. She had a mother's wrath that no one wanted to be on the wrong side of.

"I think it best that we adjourn until more of us attend," Carmilla stated, cold and composed. "And until you've all stopped behaving like children."

"Good luck with that," Azura snorted.

Zestial wished she weren't correct. Over the decades, sinners seldom changed. 

What could've possibly pushed the Princess into believing anything different?

He hoped that, deep down, his father wasn't different. He knew this to be wrong, though. They've lived too long.

As his siblings bickered with those pesky Vees, Zestial loomed over Carmilla. She had never feared his height or power; it was a respect that was so hard to find nowadays.

"May I hast a word?" Zestial requested, his green eyes meeting Carmilla's red and ivory. 

Azura whistled to Rosie, making a silent joke at Zestial's expense. They're lucky they're his sisters; otherwise, he'd teach them to respect him as Carmilla did. 

"Of course," she nodded, motioning to trail behind her.

The first killer was nervous. He wanted to do this right.

He felt things for her he hadn't for any other. It was terrifying but alluring, much like her.

Once they were in her office, Zestial cut to the point, unable to handle his anxiety.

"I respect thee, Carmilla. More than most. It  is  this  very  respect  that  I  am  compelled  to  discuss  an  important  matter  with  thee."

"We're in the middle of discussing that matter," Carmilla said, evidently not understanding what he meant.

"Adam plays a part. He is not the subject of this conversation but the motivator of it. I shall giveth thee a choice. Whatever thy answer, knoweth I shall adhere to it." 

"Zestial, what's the matter?" she questioned, growing concerned. "Is this because you've met before? You briefly mentioned it some time ago, mi amor."

He had mentioned it by accident. All Zestial had said was that Adam seemed tired, identifying the angel before anyone knew his identity. It was all Carmilla needed to connect that he knew more than he could disclose. 

It's what he feared now, but he had to do it. If they were ever going to work, they had to be honest with each other, and his father had forced Zestial's hand.

Once again, his father is pushing him to make a decision. 

"I knoweth him. We were close once. A very long time ago... T wast a simple age. Longeth before metal and gunpowder. In the day of stone and caves. Before the flood itself... we shared the mortal coil."

He observed his partner as she absorbed that information.

It was vague, granted. Even so, what he'd told her was more than any other soul that didn't know him before his demise. It's his first time doing this.

Revealing himself to her was so difficult. The modern age knew of his horrid crime and his curse upon humanity. It disgusted him.

She should flee. She should leave him. But he didn't want her to.

He hoped. It was not something he had earned.

"You knew Adam in life?" she reiterated, more to herself. "Zestial. I know we promised to leave our lives in the past, but you want to tell me. And it scares you."

"My name. It is not to be taken lightly nor repeated beyond this room."

"You don't have to tell me this."

"Thee shall find out soon enough, and I wanteth it to be from me," the ancient being stated, swallowing his fear. "I was... I am Cain."

The name held a weight that she finally understood.

The reason behind his apprehension regarding the discussion of this subject.

They were plotting to erase his father. It's doable, and they all know it now. As much as Zestial was afraid of meeting whoever now wore his father's face, he feared losing him again even more.

Carmilla required several moments to process this information. He understood. It's a gigantic secret.

"He's your father."

"That he is."

"Are you... afraid of him?"

"Afraid of who he may be now. Our family hast been separated for longer than thee can fathom, my heart. We all have wanted this day, but it is... terrifying." 

"All? As in, Eve and-"

"Yes. And the first murdered no longer uses that name - the lady hath chosen Rosie."

"Rosie!? The cannibal overlord is your sister?"

"Indeed. I possesseth four sisters and one brother. You've met my mother - she goes by Melora."

"The minotaur is Eve. The minotaur."

"Humorous. She always adored cows."

It was cute how his mother adored her hellish form more than her human one. 

Carmilla stared at him, absorbing this information.

"If Adam never became involved, would you have ever told me?"

"Perhaps. It is unlikely, however."

He needed to be honest with her, even if he was scared.

"This is a lot, Zestial."

"Aye. I understand if thee wishes to sever our...relations."

"No," she stated, almost like an order. "I'm annoyed that you didn't trust me with this sooner. But I understand. Is he aware that you're an Overlord?"

"No. We are... unsure how to proceed."

"Then I'll help. I already told you that you're family. By proxy, that includes him... let's hope he doesn't discover what I did."

"Indeed."

As the youth would say. Fingers crossed. 

It's not real. 

Remember what Jophiel said. Follow the techniques, one at a time. 

It's not real.

Keep the breathing under control. Remain calm. Stay in control.

Metatron's trapped on Earth. He can't come back. They've made sure of it. He isn't returning. 

It's not real.

Kushiel is just being an asshole, as usual. It's nothing. All he says are lies meant to pull him further into a spiral. Push them away, locking them in the little box in his mind. It's a bunch of bullshit.

Visualise armour. Not the same he wore. A large, encasing, enveloping, impenetrable shield, a reminder that he's not in danger anymore.

It's not real.

Focus on the sounds.

The creak in floorboards, the occasional groan of pipes, the murmurs of life below. The quiet lets him come in and nest in his damaged soul. 

Adam summoned one of his guitars, strumming the strings without a particular song in mind.

Something to drown out the sounds, the echoes of the past. Send it all away to where it belonged. 

It's not real.

Stay grounded. Don't disassociate. Remain in the present; don't let the past pull him again. Remain in control. 

The pain is just the body remembering what happened to it; it isn't happening now.

The anger is just a reaction. It isn't his feelings; it's emotions from before.

It's not real.

The yearning to disappear, the hunger to make everything stop, would pass. It comes in waves.

The flashes of things that happened are just that. They're moments that come and will go. 

Go through the steps. Follow the routine and techniques. 

Ignore the eyes in the dark. Ignore his nephew's face, how the hole in his throat still bled, the neverending wheeze of a final breath...

It's not real.

Nausea will pass. 

Don't go near any substances in these moments; don't get dependent again. Ignore the itching, the craving to forget or at least be immune to the waves crashing into his senses.

It's ok to use outside of episodes. It's ok to enjoy a drink now and again. It isn't ok to rely on it as a crush during an episode; it could trigger a full relapse. 

He's how they discovered that an angel could get alcohol poisoning. That an angel could OD. 

The need to escape would pass. The fear, the dread, it's going to leave.

It's not real. 

None of it was real.

It's not real.

The dreams where he died as he deserved weren't real...

Yelling with rage, Adam swung his axe guitar into the wall. The fucking same song and dance. No matter how many times he goes through it, it never helps.

It doesn't make those eyes go away; it doesn't take away from the echoes of that motherfucker grinning in the mirror. 

The angel punched the mirror, watching it crack like a spider's web. In some of the shards, he saw different faces.

There was his nephew, scared and begging for his uncle to save him - those damned silvery green eyes crushing his heart like it was an Olympic sport.

Metatron was smiling, that hideous gleeful grin of victory and sadistic satisfaction. The endless pits of blackened hate and spite with rings of disgusting blue peering through him for the fun of it.

Then there's the helmet of the one that started it all. The reflection he struggled to stomach more than even Metatron. The gold and white were impeccable and insulting, an idiot that believed that there was a semblance of hope in this fucked up reality.

The rules are black and white.

"T̶h̸e̵ ̴r̷u̵l̵e̷s̵ ̴o̴f̶ ̶t̶h̷i̸s̴ ̴r̵e̶a̴l̵i̵t̶y̶ ̶a̵r̵e̴ ̵n̶o̶t̸ ̴g̶r̸e̴y̵.̸ ̴T̸h̷e̴y̸ ̶a̶r̴e̶ ̴b̴l̸a̷c̸k̷ ̷a̴n̸d̴ ̷w̷h̴i̵t̸e̸.̴ ̷O̸n̷e̵ ̶o̷r̷ ̸t̸h̴e̸ ̴o̷t̴h̵e̴r̷.̷ ̴R̸i̸g̷h̶t̸ ̸a̷n̸d̴ ̴w̶r̵o̷n̶g̶.̴ ̸R̵i̸g̷h̷t̵e̵o̴u̸s̴ ̷a̸n̷d̸ ̸b̶l̶a̷s̴p̵h̵e̶m̴o̸u̶s̴.̷ ̸T̶h̵i̷n̴k̵i̴n̴g̷ ̴o̷t̵h̴e̶r̶w̸i̶s̵e̵ ̵i̸s̷ ̴n̶o̷t̷ ̵o̶n̷l̴y̷ ̷s̵t̸u̷p̴i̵d̶ ̸b̸u̸t̶ ̵d̷a̶n̸g̴e̴r̷o̸u̴s̴.̵ ̸"

There's no use in trying to fight it.

"Y̶o̷u̸ ̶d̶a̵r̸e̷ ̸q̵u̷e̵s̵t̷i̵o̸n̵ ̸m̸e̶,̸ ̴P̸e̶t̵!̷?̸ ̶T̵h̵e̷r̴e̸ ̴i̴s̶ ̵n̷o̴ ̸u̶s̴e̴ ̸i̶n̴ ̶t̷r̵y̴i̶n̷g̸ ̷t̸o̴ ̵a̴r̷g̵u̸e̵ ̵o̶r̴ ̴f̴i̸g̴h̶t̶ ̸t̴h̷i̶s̷ ̶s̵i̵m̴p̵l̵e̶ ̵f̸a̷c̷t̸!̶"

There's no use in defying their fates.

"T̷h̸e̶r̸e̶ ̴i̴s̶ ̶n̸o̴ ̶u̶s̴e̷ ̸i̷n̵ ̸t̵r̶y̸i̶n̶g̸ ̸t̴o̶ ̵d̵e̶f̴y̴ ̵t̷h̵e̸ ̶f̸a̵t̴e̷ ̴o̶f̶ ̶y̸o̶u̷r̷s̴e̵l̷f̸ ̴o̷r̴ ̸y̶o̸u̶r̴ ̵v̴e̶r̵m̶i̵n̵.̵"

For those with divine ordainment, punishment is entertainment...

"Y̸o̴u̵ ̶w̸o̸u̴l̶d̶n̸'̷t̵ ̶u̶n̵d̴e̸r̸s̶t̸a̸n̶d̸,̴ ̴P̸e̶t̸.̴ ̴F̷o̸r̴ ̴t̴h̸o̷s̵e̷ ̸o̴f̶ ̵u̴s̷ ̵w̶i̷t̴h̸ ̴d̵i̷v̷i̵n̷e̸ ̷o̸r̶d̵a̶i̴n̴m̷e̷n̸t̵,̸ ̸t̶h̷e̶ ̸m̷e̵r̶e̶ ̷t̸h̵o̴u̷g̶h̴t̸ ̶o̶f̶ ̸e̷x̵t̷e̵r̸m̶i̴n̶a̷t̴i̷n̴g̶ ̴y̶o̸u̵r̶ ̶i̶l̶k̶ ̴i̷s̶ ̵e̷n̸t̵e̷r̶t̸a̷i̴n̴m̸e̸n̵t̷.̶ ̴I̷ ̸a̸m̴ ̵m̷e̵r̴c̸i̷f̷u̴l̵,̸ ̵h̶o̶w̸e̴v̶e̶r̴,̸ ̵a̸n̶d̷ ̵s̵e̴t̶t̷l̵e̷ ̷w̴i̶t̷h̵ ̸e̴x̷a̴c̵t̵ ̸p̶u̴n̴i̷s̵h̶m̴e̷n̴t̷ ̶o̵n̵ ̶y̸o̸u̶ ̶i̶n̵s̷t̸e̶a̸d̸ ̵o̵f̸ ̴y̴o̶u̷r̸ ̸w̷r̵e̸t̵c̸h̸e̵d̴ ̷k̴i̴n̷.̷"

For whatever reason, Adam had tried again. Why can't he stop? It's what got him in this position in the first place!

His skin crawled, feeling hands scrape against his skin, silently wondering what to do with his immortal body for the fun of it. 

Fun. Curiosity. Confusion. The need to understand, but far from capable of it. They fit Metatron well.

That thing always wanted to understand humans. His way of doing that was to use the nearest one and pick him apart, break him down, and see how far he could go before he pleaded to be erased. 

Images returned, burning his eyes and making his tail hit the wall. 

He can't take it. 

He's not made of stone; he can't cope with this anymore.

The angel forced his eyes open to look for a way out. 

An unlocked window...

Alcohol and drugs? He's got a handle on it. He has control. His other source of reprieve?

Good luck stopping a whore from doing what they do best.

"T̴h̷i̶s̴ ̵i̷s̷ ̸w̵h̸a̴t̵ ̸t̸h̵e̴y̴ ̵c̶a̵l̴l̷ ̴a̷ ̴"̶w̷h̶o̸r̸e̵"̶,̴ ̶i̸s̶n̶'̷t̶ ̷i̸t̴?̸ ̵T̴h̷e̸ ̵s̸u̴b̶j̵e̵c̵t̵ ̵f̵o̶r̷ ̴a̴n̴o̷t̶h̷e̷r̵'̴s̶ ̶p̶l̸e̵a̸s̴u̶r̸e̵.̴ ̴T̸h̶e̸ ̵f̵i̸l̴t̸h̸ ̷t̸h̸a̶t̴ ̶h̸a̸s̵ ̶n̴o̴ ̶u̴s̷e̸ ̵b̸e̵y̵o̵n̵d̸ ̵s̴u̶c̵h̵.̶.̷.̸ ̴M̶y̸ ̷w̵h̸o̶r̸e̴.̵ ̵I̴ ̸l̶i̸k̵e̶ ̶t̷h̴e̷ ̶s̶o̵u̸n̸d̶ ̶o̸f̸ ̶i̶t̴.̶"

No. No, he's taken that back. 

Sex is his. He chooses what happens. He's in control. Any touch is because Adam allows it. Any pain, any marks, they're all on his terms. 

Nobody got to use him. Nobody was allowed to get close. Nobody can touch him again.

"Y̴o̸u̶ ̶f̸u̶l̵f̷i̵l̴l̶e̵d̶ ̴y̸o̴u̵r̸ ̴o̶n̶l̶y̴ ̶p̶u̵r̵p̴o̶s̷e̴,̷ ̷a̸n̷d̶ ̴n̵o̷w̵ ̶y̷o̸u̸'̷l̶l̵ ̶a̸l̴w̸a̴y̶s̴ ̸b̴e̴ ̸m̵i̵n̵e̵.̷"

He doesn't belong to anybody!

When the angel made his way to that window, a bright shine of light stopped him.

It twisted and changed into an angelic being, her soft eyes crushing any hope of escaping this nightmare.

"You are supposed to call me when this starts," Jophiel said, her eyes sympathetic and patience infinite. 

He hated it.

"Fuck off, bitch. I've got things to do."

"I cannot allow that, Adam."

"Fuck you - I'm not some pet you can control. I'm going!"

"We know how this goes. It begins with sex, but it spirals into more. It's what we've discussed many times - it's what you requested that I impede."

"I don't remember that. Doesn't matter. I'm going out, and you aren't keeping me here."

That's a lie, and she knows it. 

When he's losing grasp of this plane, Jophiel intervenes. She's his support in trying to get control of this fucked up mess.

She's explained PTSD countless times to the point it makes him feel ill. It implied he was a victim, but he wasn't. It's the opposite problem.

Everything is Adam's fault. The infighting, Eden, Luci's banishment, God, the war, Damian, Lilith - it was Adam's fault. He believed in an impossible, insane delusion of freedom and equity, only to learn there was no such thing after blood had soaked the realms.

There wasn't a point in even trying to fight. 

Gadreel was a mistake. Nobody should've followed. 

He should've stayed silent and let Metatron do whatever he wanted. It would mean that Damian didn't die, that his sister didn't despise him, that so much destruction and horror didn't happen. 

And now, his niece is trying to follow those cursed footsteps. 

Nothing Adam tried would make her stop before it was too late - before she made the same mistakes that he and his fellow idiots made. If anything, his constant belittling only spurned her to keep trying.

Didn't she understand the cost? 

No. Of course, she didn't. 

Lucifer and Lilith didn't tell her a fucking thing...

"You're ok," Jophiel assured, but it didn't take away from the crippling dread. "You're safe, Adam."

"I fucking know that! Don't patronise me - I've been through this shit before. I know I'm safe, I know it's over, but that doesn't change how it feels!"

"You're safe from yourself. That's why I'm here. That's part of my job."

"I̴f̵ ̵I̴ ̷w̴e̷r̵e̷n̸'̷t̴ ̸h̶e̴r̶e̵ ̸t̶o̵ ̷k̷e̸e̸p̷ ̷y̴o̵u̵ ̸i̸n̸ ̴c̴o̸n̸t̶r̶o̴l̴,̷ ̸P̸e̶t̶,̶ ̵y̵o̶u̷'̷d̶ ̶l̸e̵a̴v̵e̸ ̴s̷u̷c̶h̶ ̸h̶o̴r̶r̵o̴r̷s̸ ̴o̷n̶ ̸G̵o̶d̴'̶s̴ ̶g̵r̷a̴c̸i̸o̷u̴s̶ ̴w̸o̷r̶l̶d̸.̴"

"That's not helping! That's what he'd say, just differently."

"I apologise," she said. It was genuine, and he hated it. "Please, sit," she asked, her wings fluttering briefly.

Tired and frustrated, the angel relented, anger burning under his skin.

If he couldn't fuck, he wanted to fight.

"Do you know what triggered it?"

"No. I don't know. Sometimes, it just starts. Why am I answering? You already know this."

"Don't feign stupid, Adam. You're far from that."

He hated how she saw through him.

It's what made him go to her in the first place.

"You look better," Jophiel stated, analysing the angel and his new uniform. "Sera's design, I take it?"

"I know. Fucking hideous!" Adam complained, pinching at the robe. "Anyway, that's not what I'm here to bitch about."

"A shame. I loathe Sera's taste in attire."

They could agree on that.

He lost it again. He couldn't cope with the memories, the weight of his horrifying mistakes and the loss - instead of alcohol, he turned to drugs. He took the stash they were in the process of destroying and used it.

Even angels have limits, and Adam reached his. Even so, he kept going, desperate for anything beyond that bastard's voice, vile eyes or cold touch. Escape.

That's what it was to him. The alcohol, the drugs, the overeating, the sex; it was relief from what haunted him. 

He ODed again. It was Lute who found him; she was terrified he managed to pump his system with enough garbage to kill him.

If only...

"I want your help."

"What?"

"I'm not repeating myself. I need it, and you know I do. I'm broken and fucked up, a washed-up has been. I want to be in control again because it's pretty fucking obvious I've lost it."

"Are you under the influence now?"

"Obviously. That's part of the problem. I can't function without some crutch, and I can't go to anyone who doesn't... I can't tell anyone what happened. I can't. But you already know. I don't need to say it out loud."

She put him back together when Metatron was done playing with him.

She knew everything. He didn't have to relive those moments by telling her, admitting his weakness and his helplessness.

He didn't have to reveal things he'd only survived by denying and suppressing. 

Jophiel nodded understandingly, her look of sympathy hurting deeply.

"I'll do this under one condition, Adam. If you can't, I'll wait until you're ready."

"Name it, bitch. I'm fucking sick of dealing with this or literal nightmares."

"I keep you safe. Especially from yourself."

"The fuck you mean?"

"If I feel that you are a danger to yourself, I intervene. And no matter how upset you get with me, I'll ensure your safety." 

"Gimme an example."

"If you tell me to leave, I won't. I will remain until I feel you are in control and not a hazard to yourself."

"Not liking how that sounds..."

"I will give you time to consider this condition. I understand it's a giant ask, but consider it a step in the right direction."

He wanted to hit somebody.

He wanted to hit himself.

"You know that Lucifer would support you," she said, remaining where she stood.

Adam knows she isn't physically here. It's a projection, the same thing he did to Charlotte at that dumb meeting. The one where he hoped someone other than her would appear.

He missed his sister so much.

Depending on his mental state or level of soberness, there was a chance he would accept her deal, whatever it entailed. He knew she wanted to be Mael; it would stop the pain. It'd end everything. 

It sounded so appealing.

"I don't want to burden him with this."

"Or you don't want him to get angry for you. Others are allowed to be angry and upset about what Metatron did."

"Last time I let them in, it started that waste of a fucking war."

"It was far from a waste, Adam. It was inevitable. The war would've happened with or without Gadreel - the difference is that Gadreel is how we won."

"Did we win? Really? Because from everything I've seen, it's still a fucking mess. We slapped a sticker on it and called it fixed."

"It is a process. Yes, we are all saddened that things didn't turn out as great as we'd hoped, but it's superior to Metatron's reign. We made many mistakes - following you into battle wasn't one of them."

"Then you're still a moron."

"We can be stupid and correct. They are not mutually exclusive."

"I'm tired, Jo. Fuck off, would you?"

"I'll wait until you go back to sleep. There are another three hours until Charlotte begins the second day. I will always watch over you, Adam, even if you can't see or feel me. I made a promise, and I'll keep it."

That would sound stalker-ish if it were anyone else.

"I don't want to try anymore, but I can't stop."

"Because it's who you are. No matter how much time has passed, you try. It's one of the qualities that made you a seraphim before you gave it away."

Yeah. Doing that blinded him in his left eye. That sucked.

"I don't know who I am anymore."

"I... share such feelings. I felt so sure of myself before the Realm Revolution. Perhaps we never will know, for we are always changing."

"That doesn't fill me with much hope."

"Maybe not now. Perhaps in the future."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

He didn't want to believe in a future.

He didn't want to believe at all.

Chapter Text

Emily wanted this to work. She was desperate for redemption, to offer salvation to those who didn't belong in Hell.

She watched the light disappear from Adam's eyes, giving up any hope of a difference. She saw him develop this mask, a shield to protect himself. It's gotten better since Jophiel's interventions.

Since Jophiel, he wasn't half dead from moonshine. He wasn't either on the verge of ODing or ODing. It got so bad once that the lieutenant of the exorcists, Lute, had to move in with him to keep an eye on him.

It's selfish, but she wanted him. She wanted him to call her his.

For all of Emily's life, she knew that she wasn't like the other seraph. It took time, but eventually, she discovered that she was born, not made.

It was Adam who explained to her how that worked. The birds and the bees. And how he would've stuck an axe in the face of anyone who tried to treat her differently. 

The exorcists became like sisters, guiding her and teaching her about joy and how to spread it. 

Saint Peter was like an uncle, showing Emily that her positivity could help the newly ascended settle into their new home. She admittedly preferred his original form, but the new one put the modern souls at ease.

She knew that Sera was her mother. However, that meant she had a father. 

But nobody would tell her, not even the man she looked up to.

It wasn't until she eavesdropped on Sera that she understood why.

Emily knew that she shouldn't be here. However, she was sick of Sera excluding her from everything.

She's not a little kid anymore. She's got her grown feathers!

The small seraph stood behind the door, trying to listen to the conversation.

"What would you have me do?" Sera said, her voice muffled by the door but brimming with distress. "Gabriel knows. You know. Kushiel knows. That's already too many."

She couldn't help but cringe at Kushiel's name - the defector. He had never hidden his dislike for humankind - he was a proud misanthrope. He only changed sides because Lucifer captured him, and he didn't want to die.

Nobody trusted him. He creeped her out, honestly. She hated how he looked at her.

What did he know? What was this big secret?

"That's the thing about secrets. They never stay buried."

Was that Adam? Why is he in Sera's office? It's a Thursday; he should be with the exorcists today.

"I can't. I won't."

It sounded like Sera was going to start crying. Even with their rough relationship, Emily didn't want to see her mom cry.

"So. We just let Kushiel continue to blackmail us, hm? That's a grand fucking idea, Sera. Bravo. Watch my standing ovation."

Blackmail!?

The little seraph bit her lip, silencing her shock.

Kushiel was blackmailing them about something, and it had to be huge. What was this secret? What did Kushiel know that forced them to surrender to whatever he wanted?

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

"It's not like you listen to anything else I say. You're Em's mother, Sera; she needs to hear it from you."

"I'll sooner be erased than tell her who her father is."

That's it.

Emily constantly asked about it, desperate to know who helped create her. Every time, however, Sera shut her down.

For a while, she thought it was Adam. Why not? He had sex with almost every woman in Heaven - excluding the exorcists and herself, of course. However, Jophiel confirmed to Emily that she was a full seraph, not part human. Then again, that could be a lie or a cover-up.

Somebody was her father, and whoever they were, Sera didn't want her to know. However, Adam was on her side, wanting Sera to tell her.

"She's going to find out eventually, Sera. Em's a smart kid. I say this to everybody else, and I'll say it to you - communicate. It's a pain in the balls, but it's necessary. If you don't tell her, maybe I will."

"You won't," Sera said, almost like an order. "I can make your life very difficult, Adam."

"See, that'd be threatening if you had means of making my life any worse. It's almost cute," the first man brushed off, unimpressed. "I'm the only one who has any idea how you feel. You're a cold bitch, Sera, but even you need connection."

"And I'll always hate you for it."

"Good. It means it's directed at me and not the kid."

"If you're so determined for her to have a father, why don't you claim her yourself? You already had six spawns, and those exorcist creatures come from your wings. What's one more?"

"You don't get to pick and choose whenever it's convenient for you to be a mother. She deserves to know."

"I won't do that to her. I won't let this destroy her, even from afar, as that thing did to the rest of us..."

"The longer you wait, the harder it'll be."

"I know," her mother said, sounding defeated. "Is it so wrong that I want to protect her from this?"

"No. It's what we do. We shield the next generation from what ruined ours. But Em's not a baby anymore, Sera, even if she's a shorty. The bird is flying the nest, finding her place in this weird reality - as her family, we've got to prepare her for it. How long until Kushiel dangles this in front of her, and she takes it."

"She won't."

"And how can you be so sure of that?"

"Because you'll keep her safe when I can't."

He's the closest to a father Emily had - the closest to a parent in general.

Emily loved Sera, but their relationship is cold, closer to estranged sisters than mother and daughter.

That wasn't Sera's fault; such deep and complicated emotions were beyond her intended creation. Her job was as a watcher, observing Heaven and ensuring its security. She was meant to be cold and calculating and put Heaven first.

Naturally, Emily gravitated to Adam, the far more emotionally available. That wasn't saying much, as he was very secretive unless he trusted you, but she wiggled into his heart.

Having been a father before made him much more adept at being a parental figure than Sera, who didn't like children on a good day. 

She wanted him to call her his daughter, even if they weren't related. She knew he wasn't, but she wanted him to be her dad. 

Was that so wrong? 

It was one of the reasons she picked him, other than being a badass with an axe. The few times she saw him training the exorcists were so exciting. He taught her how to use a knife, though Equinox is closer to a machete in her little hands. 

Emily had watched him do that silly knife game with Edith and Shiloh once; it'd gone so fast that she could barely keep up. It was amazing. 

She wanted to be like him, the man she knew under that mask and shield. The tired elder who had seen too much but still wore a smile and played music.

Though many of the higher angels disapproved of the hard rock and metal, it was an expression of frustration, anger, pain and more that touched the hearts of most who heard it.

She wanted to be on a stage, her songs lifting people's spirits and letting them feel all their emotions, positively getting the negative out. She longed to ensnare the saddened, raise them, and breathe life into their eyes and wings. There are so many genres to learn and master, to use to make her people smile and, if needed, cry.

Being in Hell provided the freedom to learn these things and share them. It was Emily's passion to bring joy and happiness to others; it was her calling.

She had so much to learn, and now, she could teach. She could introduce Charlie to everything that she knew and vice versa. It's exciting!

The young seraph hopped out of her room, immediately entering Adam's. After several decades, he became numb to her overexcitement and forgetting to knock on doors. 

"Morning, Addie!" Emily smiled, her wings ruffling as she only got a grumble in response. 

At least he didn't fall asleep in his helmet again.

The far older being shifted, rolling onto his side to force an eye open. Unfortunately, it was the milky green one; at best, he'd see Emily's silhouette with that one.

His glamour spell had worn off, revealing the piercings he wasn't supposed to have.

If Sera knew, she'd blow up in anger and probably disgust.

It was bad enough that she knew about the tattoos he had to hide constantly.

"Time?" Adam groaned, sounding terrible and tired.

He's usually that groggy after a shot in the back. That was why Lucifer wanted her out; he must've spotted the signs of a flare-up before she did. He's going to be slow for most of the morning.

"It's fifteen minutes past eight. We've got another fifteen until the second day begins!"

The older angel groaned again, hiding his face in the pillow of the too-small bed. It didn't stop Emily, however. She was determined to get the bastard out of bed.

Puffing her cheeks with determination, Emily took Adam's tail and pulled. Unsurprisingly, he remained still. The man weighed a ton. 

For a brief moment, Emily's guise fell, shifting her wings to her head and revealing a third eye. It was far from unusual; a majority of angels looked different.

The light that emanated from the flash of transformation forced him to turn his whole head to look at her, his good eye unimpressed. His messy, curly hair flopped over his face, something she was envious of.

Sera had amazing, locked hair. Humans called the style "dreadlocks", but there's nothing dreadful about them. They were magnificent. Meanwhile, Emily had dull, straight hair in her disguised humanoid form. When in her genuine form, she had no hair, only feathers. 

Adam had curly, cedar brown that he usually styled into a faux hawk. He used to dye it all sorts of colours, often fitting a theme or holiday for fun, before Sera's little dress code initiative. It was a shame. She adored guessing what flag he picked as his hair colour for pride month.

Her favourite attribute of his had to be his patchy skin. It's called vitiligo now, the absence of melanin in certain places. For him, it was his skin that was affected. For Lilith, it was her hair turning a blonde so potent it was almost an eerie white.

Since she got made with a piece of his body, Eve had it too. According to Adam, only two of his children didn't inherit it - Cain and Azura. His son Seth, the youngest, had heterochromia though. 

Emily only had her mother's freckles, not the white blaze that trailed down the middle of her face and nose. It was one of her favourite features from her mother besides her incredible hair.

If Emily could, she'd have hair like that.

"Can you do my hair today?"

"Let me get dressed first."

"Yes!"

He dragged himself out of bed, mumbling all the while. 

Emily waited on the bed, eagerly kicking her feet in wait. She observed as he gathered his outfit, picking a different shirt this time - she still didn't know who Tenacious D was, but it sounded funny. He re-did the glamour spell for further protection and then attached his helmet. It glitched before coming to life, showing his expressions while still comforting him.

She knew that he was insecure about his left eye's deteriorating vision. The likes of Raphael might've been able to save it, but she died before it happened.

With a whistle, the younger angel sat on the floor, wings flexing gleefully.

He sat with her between his legs, combing his gloved fingers through her hair. He had to teach the exorcists how to care for themselves, so it was easy for him to do. She envied when Reagan showed off her fish braids for her date; it'd been adorable.

It was odd. It's been nearly six months, and Emily hadn't seen Reagan anywhere. That's not like Reagan. She's too social and extroverted.

"Hey, Addie?"

"Hm?"

"Do you know where Reagan is?"

Those skilful hands paused briefly.

Emily could almost feel their tremble, and in her periphery, she saw how Adam's tail started to curl. 

He didn't answer. 

"She didn't come back, did she?"

"No."

His tone poured ice down her spine.

They had a long talk after Emily kept hearing about the exterminations. She wanted answers, and though reluctant, he gave them.

"What do you mean you kill the sinners?"

Emily had a mix of emotions. Some of it was outrage, some was horror, and the rest was beyond her understanding. 

How could her mother have agreed to something like this?

"I got pissed at Lilith and sarcastically suggested we cull sinners to lower the population. With input from the sins, it would ensure Metatron didn't have a foothold in Hell. You remember the attack at the gates, don't you? It started after that."

Nearly a millennia of purging. It was horrifying. 

At least Adam didn't sound happy about it. 

"Is that what Gabriel meant? About her agreeing to something without them?"

"That would be it. The High Hierarchy are still trying to figure shit out, let alone back then - as much as they weren't happy about it, it gave them the exorcists - a military and police force in one. Travelling into Hell without an explicit reason isn't permitted, so I use that time to look for them."

"Them?"

"My kids. It's been nearly two hundred thousand years - I don't even know if they remember me anymore, but I want to find them. I need to. I didn't fight the extermination because it gave me one day a year to look for them."

Anāq, Cain, Aclima, Abel, Azura and Seth. His children. The ones he sacrificed his life for, becoming the first ascended soul. He expected the first victim to be awaiting him, but he was alone.

He'd been alone with a monster.

After all of that, including a horrific war between realms, why not kill sinful beings if it meant getting closer to finding your children? She wasn't a mother by any means, but Emily would tear the skies apart if her family got taken from her.

She disagreed with it. It disgusted her, even, but she understood Adam's reason. It felt like Sera had taken advantage of it.

"Do you regret any of it? Hurting those people?"

"The "purge everything in sight" is a recent change. We tried focusing on the legitimately terrible people, which was easy. It's fucking Hell. I'm not going to feel bad for bisecting some paedophile bastard - that's fucking retribution for all the kids we've got in Heaven because of them. We used to ignore the young ones because even children end up in Hell - Aeshma's no closer to figuring out how Metatron decided that bullshit, either."

Past tense.

They used to ignore children.

They're heavy words that struck her like a physical blow.

"What changed?" she demanded, anger flaring in her veins.

"Lilith," Adam answered, sounding more confused than angry. "She came to Heaven and argued with Gabriel and Hamaliel. Petey said that she made some claims, such as Metatron still having friends other than that pussy Kushiel working for him in Heaven's ranks. Hamaliel announced to us that if any of the exorcists refuse to kill a sinner or spare them, they're to be deemed sympathisers and terminated. Once again, my sister ruins my fucking life."

His tail hit the floor as if giving another example.

The exorcists didn't have a choice. Should the exorcists skip a sinner, regardless of why, they'd get put down like a sick animal. It was horrible and inhumane.

How dare Hamaliel make that decision? 

"That's awful!"

"Gabriel's helping me fight it, but it's a bitch and a half with Sera agreeing to the fucking thing. She's only concerned with the safety of Heaven, even if it threatens the ones that vowed to defend it as well!"

Something hit her.

The grey woman that Charlie was with. She looked eerily similar to Vaggie, one of the exorcists who "retired" several years ago.

"Is that our Vaggie upstairs, Addie?"

"She spared a sinner, and Sera gave the order. I couldn't go through with it, though. When I told Lute to get evidence, I didn't mean to take her fucking eye. It's fucked, but she was alive. If anything, Lute's bloodlust protected her from being recognised by Sera."

"Does... Does Charlie know?"

"No. And that's not for us to tell. That's Vaggie's responsibility."

Charlie doesn't know that her girlfriend is an exorcist.

An ex-exorcist.

He was right. It wasn't for them to say. 

Even so, it was painful to know that Sera demanded the death of one of their best protectors.

Her mother had never been the compassionate sort. It was beyond her by design.

"That's why she hates you."

"I'm watching history repeat, Em. We did this all before, and we barely survived the last time. I don't care if I hurt their feelings - I'm not letting another war happen."

"They don't understand like I do, Addie. They don't know everything you and the others sacrificed. I only know a quarter of what happened, and it's horrifying; there weren't war crimes back then. The things they did..."

War crimes didn't exist then.

It was the first all-out war, making weapons capable of levelling continents and armour that could withstand the sun. Though Emily had only seen some of the remnants in a museum, knowing her kin had used them was terrifying.

She had seen a sword with a hilt that was bigger than herself. It had been Gabriel's, a titanic thing that could've sliced the gates into nothingness.

None of Adam's were there. Nobody knew what happened to his artefacts; it's believed he destroyed them.

It was a shame as they were some of the most important, especially the axe.

"We did, Em. No side was innocent. We all did things we either regret or should. Hamaliel's forgotten that she's repeating one of Metatron's bullshit rules, and she won't listen to me."

"She should. You would've been right with the High Hierarchy if you hadn't refused."

"I objected to the whole idea in the first place. Still do. They weren't even elected! We exchanged one kakistocracy for another one."

"As opposed to anarchy."

"After seeing the damage a fucked up system can do, anarchy looked pretty fucking nice in comparison."

She couldn't argue with that.

"Would you fight again? If we had to?"

"I'm making sure we won't. Metatron ensured redemption was impossible after killing God. The only one who even had the power to fix it is Mael, and they're never coming back, not even if I wanted them to."

Mael. The first human, the supposed successor of God. His magnum opus, one so potent he split them in two.

Her mother told her about the last time they saw Mael; it wasn't a complete transformation, but it was enough. It resulted in Adam growing a tail and Lilith gaining a wing, but Michael and Azrael - two of the original seven archangels made by God's hand - perished in the brief seconds Mael existed.

After that, it was no surprise why Adam had been a seraph when he ascended. He and Lilith, when combined, were equal to Metatron himself, the first of God's creations. 

It was so horrible that the consequence of having Mael was losing Adam and Lilith. Both would cease to exist while combined.

She didn't want to see Mael for this reason. She loved her father figure too much.

Emily knew the exorcists wouldn't cope without their creator, big brother and parental guide. 

"Did she spare a sinner...?"

She didn't want to think of him having to kill Reagan and not find a way out as he had with Vaggie.

"No. A sinner killed her."

The girl struggled to fathom those words.

He let go of her hair; he finished with her braids. When he did, she turned, gripping his thighs nervously.

"What do you mean they killed her?" she pleaded, horrified.

"Ashanti, Hadassah, Urangi and Shiloh saw a sinner with angelic steel shoes behead her. It's why we moved the date up by six months," the man answered, detached but visibly upset by losing one of his girls. "I'm going for them first after this stupid game."

Emily felt anger. Of course, the sinners should be allowed to defend themselves, but the exorcists didn't have a choice.

And Emily knew Reagan. She knew a few of the exorcists, at least the social ones. She loved them like family members.

Did Vaggie know one of her sisters was dead?

"We need to tell Vaggie. She deserves to know what happened to her sister."

"Maybe. That's assuming Vaggie would believe me." 

"Why not?"

"We've already talked about that."

"But you could explain it to her - that you didn't want her to die!"

"After she comes out to Charlie. Now get up. If any moron opens the door, it'll look weird."

Emily considered her position.

On her knees, between his thighs.

Adam would never think of her that way; he'd held her as a baby. That didn't mean someone else wouldn't have assumptions if they saw them. 

She swiftly stood, brushing dust from her knees.

It's almost comical how she's still tiny compared to him while he's sitting. She's half his size in the literal sense.

"Will you join me for her activities?"

"No."

"What if I clean your guitar?"

"Hmmm. Maybe. Probably not, but maybe."

"Yes! I've done a deal!"

"Good to start small, shorty. Out the way. I need to stretch my wings."

She was happy to move, watching the golden appendages flex and glimmer. They were beautiful. 

Someday, Emily would have wings like that, gigantic and marvellous. 

"I've got an offer you can't refuse," the serpent woman said, her wings fluttering behind her. 

"What kind?" Vox questioned, unsure of her neon green stare. "I've never seen you around before."

"I'm not from here," she clarified. The rattle of her tail echoed in Vox's audio receptors. "You wouldn't understand, dear. You're bound to the Pride Ring only."

They knew about the other rings, but so few ever came from there to Pride, much less Pentagram City.

Vox had a handful of imps, but most were from Imp City. 

This lady was from a place he couldn't follow. She had seen the wonders of the seven rings, no doubt.

Vox had heard about the other six. Some players dwarfed the Overlords, some in a literal sense. A perfect example was the sins. 

Many years ago, the Sin of Greed had showed interest in Vox's technology and television shows. He should've been far more wary than he was at the time. Little did Vox realise how dangerous that entity was.

It had been brief, barely ten minutes, but it put a new form of fear into Vox. It gave him a phobia of clowns. 

Twelve-thirty. That's what the nervous imp had said. 

Vox tried looking into this guy who called himself a sin. It had to be bullshit, of course. 

What royal would willingly make a fool of themselves? What powerful entity equal to Lucifer looks like a buffoon for seemingly no reason? It was pathetic!

He waited. The clock ticked, irritating him by the moment. It was half an hour until the asshole finally showed, wearing an irritating outfit and rockstar shades.

The fat fuck hadn't even spoken, and Vox was already annoyed.

"Yer aesthetics are fucking horrendous, mate. Looks like a cyberpunk dunny," the clown insulted, visibly unimpressed with Vox's carefully designed office.

Was this motherfucker Australian?

It had to be a joke. What supposed royal would dress as a pathetic clown?

The sinner dragged his eyes up and down, examining the heavy demon. The whole get-up was pitiful, more of a joke than anything resembling power or control. Did Val or Vel set this up?

"You're Mammon?" Vox questioned, confused.

"The one and fucking only!" the other cackled, lowering his shades to show off his yellowy green eyes. His tongue was purple with yellow stripes - it was a weird feature. "Your start-up has promise. And by promise, I mean profitability. You be a good little bitch boy and make your garbage, and I distribute it across the other rings."

"Garbage? It isn't garbage! It's innovative and the most advanced technology in all of Pride!"

"How fitting that you're stuck here," the white clown smirked, unphased by Vox's anger. "It's innovative for you human cunts, sure. My brother Ozz made better shit than this aeons ago. The difference, Voxy, is that it wasn't profitable back then. There's no point in selling what nobody wants. Now? Things have changed."

Vox wasn't buying this "I'm ancient" bullshit. It's some loser posing as someone influential and dangerous to fool him.

He wasn't going to be laughed at by a dumb clown.

"Why the fuck are you here if you think my hard work is a joke?"

"You're cheap, Voxy. You can pump out shit that losers are gaggin' for. You the cute little shows and dumb movies, and I distribute them to billions - call it Voxflix or whatever. You sure do love putting your name on things."

He's not "cheap". He's not producing garbage.

Vox was an inventor, a creative who finally had the opportunity to succeed. He took control of a market nobody else could fathom, and he was damn good at what he did. He didn't become an Overlord by being a cheap loser.

Rising to power as he did, forming an alliance with Vel and Val, was inspiring. He was amazing!

This stupid clown should be begging him, not acting like Vox should be grateful for his presence.

"I'm not playing anymore," Vox sneered, smirking as the clown's grin changed to confusion. "I don't know who set this up, but I'm not listening to any more of this stupid farce. I'm a busy man with better things to do than listen to a nobody clown make an ass of me. Take this dumb joke and fuck off."

The odd bug clown creased his brow in thought, which wasn't the reaction that Vox was anticipating. No joke? No laugh? No fleeing in fear of what the mighty Vox would do?

"I don't think you understand the situation, Voxy," the clown said, almost disappointed. "You seem to think you've got power here. My sister's been all up my ass about being forceful, so I was playing nice, letting you think you had a choice. You don't."

The bug stood but then kept growing. Instead of two eyes, four stared down at Vox, electricity sparking around his being.

Power flared, shutting off anything technological in the room that wasn't Vox. The sheer weight of energy was crushing, threatening to shut him down or blow a fuse.

It's not funny anymore. 

The "clown" wasn't smiling, his expression now threatening and irritated. The force exuding from his being was unlike anything, even the feared Zestial or arrogant Alastor. It's overwhelming, suffocating and monstrous.

It's not a joke.

"You'll make movies, shows and whatever the fuck else I want for me. You'll make dumb gadgets and gizmos for me. You'll milk this bullshit dry, then make a new cow to drain for me. I'll distribute it across all of Hell to billions of morons. You'll get twenty per cent, occasional funding to make more garbage, and if you be a good little nobody cunt, I won't make you beg for an exorcist's toothpick!"

Vox fell back, reasonably terrified of the show of power. He could barely move, the pressure forcing him to stay below the towering entity.

Mammon changed back into his regular form, but his expression remained. The embodiment of greed was still annoyed but slowly returning to his jester mood.

"Did I make myself clear, Voxy?" he glared, implying that he'd keep his promise if Vox disagreed.

"Yep," Vox nodded, eager to make the sin leave. "I'll make what you want."

The sneer changed into a grin as if he hadn't made Vox piss himself in terror. It was eery how quickly he changed.

"Atta boy!" Mammon cackled, grabbing Vox's shoulder and pulling him up like he weighed nothing.

Vox was over three hundred pounds at seven foot three. Most of it was due to being a living machine, but still, he isn't light. To Mammon, though, it was like Vox was a napkin.

The ease of it was frightening, as was feeling how hard it was for Mammon not to crush his entire ribcage from just his grip.

It's a power he should never mess with.

"I-I take it you want what I already have?"

"How generous of ya!" the sin mocked, grinning madly. "If your cunty fuck buddies want in on it, I'll only include that fashionista sheila - I sell a lot of things, but I don't give a shit about that sex stuff, much less from a loser that would die if you got a big lamp!"

He fucking hates clowns.

It's ironic because his boyfriend and girlfriend are both clowns in this fucking circus of a business.

"You're not scarier than Mammon, I hope you know."

"Zuriel is far from frightening, little soul," she said, her snake eyes narrowing ominously. "I'm working with someone that frightens the sins."

That was intriguing.

"Lucifer?"

"Him included."

"Juicy. What's this guy's name?"

"That is unnecessary information," she said sharply, slithering around his office. She approached the bar, pouring them both a drink. "What he offers, however..."

Secretive. 

Vox respected it.

She returned, placing a glass beside him as she coiled onto the seat across from him. Her rattle jingled, almost begging him to fall into its alluring song.

"Say I'm interested. What would I have to do?"

"Kill Adam."

Vox stared at her, needing to blink several times as he processed such a request.

Kill the first man? 

They didn't know how the exorcist died, let alone the leader of them. It wasn't possible.

"I'll get right on that. I've got to put my unicorn in magic dragon armour first," he said sarcastically, unenthused. "Do you even know how to kill an angel?"

"I do."

That changed things.

Vox leaned back, tilting his head. He was eager for information like this, a way to get revenge on those fuckers. 

For far too long, the sinners have suffered in terror of an exorcist or, hell forbid, their leader. He's had several close calls in the past. If he weren't around, sweet Velvette would've been cut to ribbons when the poor thing arrived on extermination day.

Finding that exorcist's body had been a sign of change, retribution and vengeance. 

"How?"

"Agree to do the job, and I'll give you everything you need."

"Say we do this. What's going to stop Heaven from getting uppity about killing their little golden boy?"

"I have my connections."

"Cryptic. Why does this guy want the first man dead?"

"Because Adam is a threat to him. He has a weapon that can fracture light and shatter shadows. It almost killed him once, and only Adam knows how to wield it. With him gone, Heaven will have no sentinel to protect them, and we can give Hell to you."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"That's your reward, Vincent. If you do this, we will make you the King of Hell. Once my boss has control of Heaven, he will get rid of the pesky sins, leaving everything to you."

That sounded nice. It sounded delicious.

Vox, the King of Hell. He liked the sound of that.

Getting rid of Mammon would free him of that financial burden. It would open the doors to the other rings, too. He could have an empire unlike anything ever seen.

All this guy wants in exchange for all of that is one dead man? That was amazing!

"I take it you're interested?" she smiled, her serpent fangs poking out.

"I'll deliver his wings fried," Vox grinned, giddy. "Would this way of eliminating him also kill an irritating rival of mine?"

"It'll destroy anything with a soul."

"Deal."

"Glad to do business with you."

Kill one man and earn a crown. It's a dream come true.

Charlie waited. She hated waiting, but she knew that this talk was imperative.

Finally, her father will open up to her and answer her questions.

It was the same balcony they last spoke of something special to Charlie before Mimzy brought those sharks here. It hurt her to hear her father sound so disgusted by the sinners. Granted, he only saw the worst of them, but not all were horrible.

Everyone made an effort to make him feel welcome when he arrived. And Niffty was only slightly weird with him, which was a big step for her.

Angel Dust only tried seducing him four times, which is a record for him!

The little fight with Alastor had been odd, but Al liked to play with people. She was sure he didn't mean anything too malicious by it. 

She could hope, at least.

The Princess perked when she heard the doors open, her father finally joining her.

It looked like he hadn't slept, which wasn't unusual after mom left.

Lucifer leaned over the railings, looking at the kingdom he never wanted.

"I'm sorry. About last night," Lucifer started. "I needed time to think about what I've got the strength to tell you and what I'm too weak to say." 

Weak is the last thing she would consider her dad.

She felt bad. Why wouldn't she? It hurt her dad, but she was tired of being out of the loop. What did everyone seem to know except for her?

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the words were caught like fish in a net, stuck.

"Dad?" she questioned, keeping his focus on her instead of whatever held his forked tongue.

Charlie was learning more about wounds, physical and mental alike. Though sheltered, for the sake of her people, she's growing.

She's discovering so much about the human condition she hadn't thought of before. She just discovered what tapering was!

It's something that Charlie will keep a hold of and develop, using it to help others.

"You're... not our first, Char."

The words washed over Charlie, piercing her flesh and burrowing into her bones.

She's not the firstborn. There was another.

A sibling.

"I have a sibling?" she questioned, stunned.

Who were they? Why weren't they here?

Charlie could barely grasp her thoughts as they raced, circling her mockingly. How could she have had a sibling?

Her mom told her that Charlie was a miracle, that they'd suffered so many miscarriages before her. Was that a lie? Was it only a half-truth?

Where had they been for all of her life? Did they leave, never talking to them again? Did she meet them but not know they were her sibling?

Lucifer forced himself to look at her, fluid building in those ancient, hurting eyes.

Oh.

She had a sibling.

"What happened?" she asked, hating the pain on her dad's face.

"Your brother was a good man. Better than any of us. He was one of the few that initiated the very war that took his life."

That was long before Charlie was born. She'd had a brother, a hero from the sounds of it. 

Her brother had been there with Gadreel, battling for the future of all souls, damned or otherwise.

"What was his name?"

"Damian."

The name that Adam had shouted - the one that seemed to hurt them most when he spat it out.

It had to be before he and Mom fell out. Did he know Damian well? 

A name that Emily knew of already. Did Heaven know of Damian's heroics?

"He was amazing," her father continued, detached and distant. "Losing him destroyed us. Hope and justice turned to despair and revenge. We gave up. Our family fell apart. Then you came, a surprise we never could've prepared for. Our beautiful, darling baby girl - we couldn't lose another child. We kept it from you, hoping we could keep you safe. But you ended up so much like him anyway."

She couldn't imagine the agony of losing a child. 

Charlie leaned over the railing, looking over the primary city of Hell. She was fighting for the sinners out there to have a chance to go to Heaven, redeem themselves and find salvation.

In the stories, Gadreel advocated for freedom, peace, and equity. Never once did they mention her brother, another who shared that dream. They didn't mention Adam, either. 

For a long time, there was context missing from those tales. Parts they redacted or altered for her. They sheltered her, desperate to right a perceived wrong. 

While she was hurt that her parents didn't tell her about Damian, she understood. Partially. 

They didn't want to lose her.

"Is that why you didn't believe in me?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"He died for them, Charlie. The sinners, virtuous and even the mortals - do you know how they appreciated his sacrifice? They made a religion based on him, using what that traitorous fucker did to him as their symbol! They bastardised his story, his passion and for what? The crusades!? The amount of horrors done in my son's name..." his voice trailed off before returning like a punch. "I hate them for it."

That word "hate" was emphasised with a flash of his demonic form, eyes inverting their colours briefly as flames escaped his lips.

What religion?

The crusades were in Jesus and God's name. What did Damian have to do with it?

Charlie tried to understand what her father was talking about, confused.

"But God-"

"God is dead, Charlie," her father interrupted, which was unusual for him. He looked hurt to admit that. "He died before the war. That has to be nearly thirty thousand years ago now." 

That couldn't be right!

The flood, Noah's Ark, and everything in the Bible were more recent than that. 

Granted, it didn't mention a gigantic war, but still. 

If God was dead, how was Yeshua born? What about Mary and Joseph? Did the Last Supper even happen?

"But Jesus..."

The Son of God couldn't exist if God were dead.

"That's one of the many names they gave to Damian. That old book is the definition of the game Telephone - passed down information misunderstood or twisted to serve the purpose of others." 

It was her brother the entire time. The one that spoke for love and unity that people revered and worshipped.

No wonder her father was so angry. They didn't even use Damian's name or respect what he believed in. 

How ironic that Jesus was, in fact, the Anti-Christ. 

"I had a brother who died. The biggest asshole in this hotel is my uncle. God died a long time ago. I only know a fraction of what happened." Nothing made sense anymore. "Was Gadreel anything like what you and Mom told me?"

What did her parents hide about her hero?

They've hidden so much.

"Yes," her father said quickly, his pain giving way to reverence. "There isn't anybody I'd rather have at my side in a fight. That man shined the brightest, no matter how hard Metatron tried snuffing him out. He was an inspiration to all of us, Damian included."

"He and Damian were close?"

"Very. Losing Damian destroyed him."

"And Adam?"

"He nearly died getting Damian's body. Losing Damian changed things - something in our side snapped, and it wasn't just about the souls anymore. It was revenge. We got brutal. There weren't war crimes back then, so it got madder the closer to the end we got - I did a lot I regret. And some I should but can't." 

There's a distance in her father's eyes. Briefly, he was back in that chaos, lost to the mayhem. 

It was hard to believe he'd been a soldier fighting alongside Heaven. Her mother and the sins, too. 

She couldn't picture Adam in a fight. He has a weapon, sure, but she's never seen him use it.

"Was he good? I mean, no offence, but I can't imagine Adam being in a fight."

"One of the best. You should've seen Adam against Michael at the ruins of Babel; he and your mother were terrifying when they worked together."

Her father was lost, reminiscing. He saw days when they were all family, sticking together through thick and thin. 

"That's where Gadreel took out Michael's eye with the Equinox."

"It was pretty brutal. Michael had his arm around his throat, trying to crush him to death - all of his bones broken, but he still stabbed that smug bitch right in the socket!" 

It must've been amazing to be right behind Gadreel, fighting for what was right. Back then, her parents, the sins, her brother and Adam were united.

That meant, long ago, Adam also believed in Charlie and Damian's dream. 

Was her surprise uncle trying to crush her hopes to avoid what happened to Damian? It was possible.

Her father had tried something similar to protect her.

"Mom didn't want me to know about him either."

"She's already mad at me. She'll be fuming when she discovers what I've told you."

"Is that why she left? Is it because of Damian?"

"Partially. S-she was never whole after Dami died. She wants revenge. I do as well - I'd love nothing more than to use that fucker's spine as a belt. But what she wanted to do..." he paused, horrified. "I-I couldn't. I couldn't help her."

"Dad. What did mom want to do?"

"Die," Lucifer answered, dumbfounding the heiress. "She wants to become Mael again - the first human. She thinks she can take over and remain dominant. She genuinely believes it's the only way to ensure your safety. Even if it means killing her twin and herself in the process."

Charlie couldn't help but feel horrible for her mother. Losing her son and, in a way, her brother. It took a toll on her. Being in the war hurt her in so many ways, and she sought drastic measures to be free of it. 

Her mother hadn't succeeded since Adam was still here. Did he know what his sister wanted to do?

She'd only just learned about Damian, but she couldn't fathom killing him for revenge or a misconstrued idea of ensuring safety. 

Wherever her mom was, she wanted to hug her and tell her to come home. She didn't need to worry about Charlie to the point of risking her life.

"He knows what Lilith wants to do. And I'm scared he'd accept it," the King admitted. "I already lost Damian, Char. I won't lose both of them, too."

That didn't even make sense.

"Why would Adam ever accept something that would kill him?"

"There's so much I can't say. It's not my place, and I only know a fraction - it was awful, Charlie, what Metatron did out of fucked up curiosity or amusement. What Lilith offers would be an escape from all of it, all the scars, guilt, nightmares, and so much more. I don't think I could resist that either."

Her father looked to his black, scarred hands. 

She knew he struggled with them, the damaged nerves and leathery skin. It spread past his elbows like tendrils and had somewhat intimidated her when she was little.

Even after hearing the stories, she didn't know what caused them, only that it hurt.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. But the fact you want to try is sweet and admirable, darling. Just don't let this act get to you. He wants people to hate him because he thinks he deserves it. One of the many wounds Metatron left behind."

Metatron, the monster of her childhood, hurt everybody she loved in one way or another.

She was curious, though. If Adam being an asshole was an act, who was he under it?

"What is he like? Behind this act."

After she asked, she saw a shine in her father's eyes, one of fondness and care.

"A tired man that's more stubborn than me. Unreasonably forgiving unless it's himself. Self-sacrificing. A damn fine commander, an even better father. There's this anger that burns like a thousand suns, but patience that can be frightening. Then there's the merge - a silent storm, the darkening of clouds before the thunder claps and lightning strikes! It was so much fun to spar with him before losing half his vision - fuck, don't tell him I mentioned that."

The glee with which Lucifer explained this man was so strange - he was describing a completely different person!

The part that caught her off guard was the part at the end. 

"Adam's half blind? Seriously?" she questioned, astonished.

He never gave an indicator. 

Vaggie struggled, having lost the entire eye. She would knock things over or accidentally bump into something. She used to get nervous if Charlie approached her on her blind side. 

"His left eye can still make out shapes! But I wouldn't give it another decade, though. The mask is an aid."

Mask!?

"I thought that was his face."

"Not at all! He's deceptively cute under it - cedar brown hair, beautiful green eyes, and I adore his skin; he has that vitiligo thingy. Lilith used to call him a map! Mammon, Beelzebub and I used to colour the pale patches; I loved doing that." 

It's suspicious how rosy-cheeked her father was describing how the man looked. 

Then again, they've known each other for thousands of years. It's nothing.

She genuinely assumed he looked like that. She also thought that of the exorcists, but it was a mask.

"If Damian was still alive, would he be helping me?"

"Yes. Dami'd be your first supporter. Dami would have adored you, Charlie. He would've cherished you how I should've."

"I'm sad about the years we lost, Dad, but I'm glad that we're talking. I didn't realise there was so much weighing on you like that."

"That's not your fault. We didn't want you to know. We wanted to keep you safe from it, but you followed Dami's footsteps anyway."

"Is that why Adam's so angry with me? Because I'm like Damian?"

"It's a painful reminder, so partially. I think Adam's scared - no, I know he is. We're both scared of it happening again, that stupid fucking war. It destroyed us. We can't cope with another one."

"Will you ever tell me the full story?"

"No. There are things I did that have to die with me. I grew hateful, Char. I became the "devil" that humans fear so much. I lost myself; we all did. And I'm terrified of it happening again."

"Well, that means we've got to try harder than ever!"

"Your positivity is admirable and infectious, dear."

She appreciated that.

"I think you should sleep, Dad. You look exhausted."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Thanks, Char."

"Thank you. For telling me."

"No. Thank you for listening. And, I guess, not hating me for keeping it from you."

"I'm upset about it, but I understand it's a painful subject. I look forward to making my big brother proud."

"You already do, sweetie."

She smiled, embracing her father's tired figure. 

They've gotten so much closer. 

Charlie misunderstood the distance for too long.

Her parents had so many problems and wounds that needed healing; she was ignorant of their plights. Now that she knew, she could try to help.

Hopefully, her mom would come back, and Charlie could reassure her. Tell her mom she's safe and nothing will happen to her.

Her father let go first, trying to look more composed but failing.

Telling her about all of this had taken a toll on him. She wanted to make it go away, but she couldn't. 

"I'm going to stay here for a little while. I need a minute," Lucifer said, looking out at the expanse of the city beyond.

"I'm here for you, Dad. Like how you're here for me."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

Charlie left him to think. It had to be difficult for him.

The Princess pondered on the information he'd provided.

How long would her father have kept this from her if he could?

Is mom ever going to come home?

She wanted to know this man, the love of her parents' life. Her family - her aunts and uncles, Adam included.

His death destroyed them, fracturing them into shadows of their former selves.

How much had Charlie missed out on? She could've had a relationship with her older brother if Metatron hadn't murdered him.

It's something she can't fix. No amount of glitter or stickers will fill this hole in her heart. It's the same that's been suffocating her family for aeons, but she was none the wiser.

It was why her mom left, to ensure that Charlie didn't meet a similar fate. 

The halls felt cold, knowing what she'd never have. 

He could've helped her, stood by her as everyone mocked her dream. Did they insult it because they saw it fail before? It made sense, but that wouldn't stop her.

Charlie made a promise. She would save the sinners, end the exterminations and bring peace to her kingdom. It was her duty.

Making her way to the main lobby felt different. It wasn't warm and full of joy or excitement. She was melancholy.

How can Charlie help people if she's so down?

The Princess entered, feeling out of place.

"Hey, Charlie!" Emily waved, smiling with beautiful braids. Did she do them herself? That's so cute!

The seraph happily embraced her, her wings fluttering adorably. 

Vaggie and Alastor were having one of their glaring matches. Oddly, Sir Pentious wasn't downstairs yet - maybe he was still scared.

Given Husk's expression, Angel Dust must be at the studio. At least his wings looked immaculate.

It was hard not to spot the glimmering golden pair leaning over Husk's bar, disinterested in whatever Charlie had planned.

She had no plan. Too much was racing through her mind.

Niffty skipped across the room, disturbingly chipper and happy.

"Good morning to you too, Em," Charlie smiled, patting Emily's back. "Your hair looks great."

"Thanks! I bugged Addie into doing it," Emily grinned, glancing back to the occupied angel. "He had a rough night; he might be grouchier than usual."

That was going to suck.

He was huge; the bed must be too small for him.

The only sign he was paying attention was an off-handed wave of dismissiveness.

"You ok?" Vaggie asked, joining Charlie's side. "You had that talk with your dad."

"Yeah. It was a lot," Charlie sighed, wanting to hide her pain from her love. "I learned about Damian. He was my brother - he was a good man."

"He was," Emily nodded, almost pridefully. "I always wanted to be like him. He was so inspiring."

"Did you meet him?"

"Sadly, no. I wish that I had, though. Addie only had positive things to say! And he's a bit pessimistic."

"A bit?" Vaggie questioned, cocking a brow. "You'd find more cheer in a graveyard."

Adam only raised a middle finger, not bothering with a response. 

Alastor, as usual, was finding amusement in their chaos.

"Um, Niffty?" Charlie called, gaining the little psycho's attention. "Could you get Pentious? Please? He's usually up by now."

"Awww. But I wanna stay with the bad boy," Niffty giggled, eyeing the angel. "I want him to do that thing again."

"Please don't," Charlie urged, not wanting to imagine her uncle like that. "He's not going anywhere - it'll be a minute."

"Ok! But only because he scares the not-bad boy," she grinned, scuttling away like a freakish bug.

She is a scary creature indeed.

"The fuck did she mean?" Husk questioned, perplexed.

"Ich bin sehr gut mit meinem mund"

"I regret asking," the feline sighed.

What language was that supposed to be?

"What?" Em asked, confused.

"Nothing we need to know," Vaggie huffed, disgruntled. "What have you got planned for today?"

Before Charlie could answer, something changed.

It's a presence, a pressure that brushed against Charlie's periphery.

Emily looked nervous, recognising this feeling.

"Addie?" she said, almost pleading for assistance or explanation.

"Emmène Emily à l'étage et je te montrerai ta mère," Adam said, speaking French, though with a slight change to it. 

Charlie watched as Alastor reacted to the language, hastily grabbing Emily's shoulder and vanishing into the shadows. 

Did he tell Alastor to do that? Why!?

Adam's face twisted into a scowl as a sharp light burst into a golden flame, giving way to an angelic creature that Charlie had seen once before. What was their name?

Kushiel. Isn't it?

Vaggie was on edge immediately, her spear already in her hands. Why was her girlfriend so nervous? Why was Adam so stiff and on edge?

Who is this guy?

"Ah - This must be the hotel..." the angel said, speaking the common tongue. "We meet again, child of the morning star."

"Yep! Uh, Kushiel, yes?"

"Indeed. You remember my name already. I̵'̶l̷l̴ ̵m̷a̸k̶e̷ ̶y̴o̵u̵ ̷s̴c̴r̴e̸a̷m̶ ̵i̸t̴,̷ ̵y̶o̷u̸ ̷d̴e̶s̴p̵i̵c̷a̷b̵l̵e̵ ̷a̷b̸o̴m̸i̵n̴a̵t̶i̴o̸n̷.̶"

She wished that her parents had taught her that angelic language. It'd be so good to know!

It'd explain why her girlfriend looked scared and furious simultaneously and why Adam's wings seemed to flinch.

"I do my very best! What brings you down here?" Charlie asked, putting on a friendly face to the stranger.

"Dear Sera was so worried for Emily's safety. Hell is an awful place, after all," Kushiel said, his eye burning ominously into Charlie's soul. 

Vaggie glared, not believing a word he said. Then again, she didn't trust anybody.

The grip on her spear was hard enough to turn her knuckles pale, her eye scowling into Kushiel's as though she could set fire to him with a thought. It was beginning to worry Charlie.

"B̴e̸h̸a̵v̴e̸,̸ ̸g̸i̸r̸l̷.̵ ̷Y̴o̶u̷ ̷d̶o̵n̵'̴t̴ ̷w̵a̴n̶t̷ ̷y̴o̷u̸r̵ ̶l̴i̸t̵t̵l̶e̵ ̷w̷h̶o̵r̶e̸ ̵t̶o̴ ̴r̸e̵a̶l̵i̴s̴e̴ ̸y̵o̶u̶'̴r̵e̵ ̵a̵ ̵t̸r̸a̵i̴t̷o̴r̶.̴"

Though it made Vaggie relax - or was it defeat? - it caused Adam to snort mockingly. 

Kushiel analysed the lobby, vile curiosity in his single eye. 

Husk's ears were lowering back, fur on end as he continued to clean. He kept his gaze down uncharacteristically, now pristine wings close to his body. 

Charlie was starting to feel unsafe.

"Such a pathetic little place. I don't understand Gabriel, but he's always been the softest of us; he must've taken pity on this little game of yours, Princess," Kushiel said, a grin in his voice. "Redemption. Such a strange concept."

"I suppose it seems that way, but we're determined to prove that a sinner can become better. Within reason, of course," Charlie said, trying to stay chipper. 

"Hazbin Hotel. A fitting name for washed-up has-beens," the angel snickered, amused by his silly joke. "A̵ ̸h̸i̸d̶e̴o̸u̷s̵ ̷h̶o̴l̵e̶ ̸f̷o̵r̶ ̷t̷h̷e̴ ̵p̸l̷a̵y̶t̵h̷i̴n̷g̵s̵ ̷o̴f̶ ̶t̷h̸e̸ ̷s̶u̷p̵e̶r̷i̵o̴r̴ ̵b̸e̴i̶n̵g̷s̶ ̴t̶o̸ ̴r̶e̴s̷i̷d̴e̷.̶ ̵V̸e̷r̴y̷ ̷b̷e̴f̴i̸t̷t̴i̸n̵g̴ ̷o̷f̴ ̵y̷o̶u̸,̶ ̴"̶G̷e̸n̵e̸r̴a̵l̷"̴.̸ ̷I̸t̴'̴s̴ ̶a̶s̶ ̸c̴u̴t̸e̶ ̴a̶s̵ ̶t̶h̵a̴t̸ ̶l̴i̶t̷t̸l̷e̷ ̷m̴o̸n̶i̶k̵e̴r̸.̸ ̶"

Kushiel walked across the lobby, his menacing eye examing every surface. He walked to Adam, entertained by the angel's unusual dedication to ignoring him.

"I'm not sure where Alastor went, but he came up with the name."

"The mixed creature," Kushiel said, confusing her. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "And the inferior among inferiors working for a marginally superior. At least that is correct."

Husk growled, unable to hide his disdain for whatever Kushiel said.

She didn't understand, but he had to be referring to something human-related.

"Please don't insult my staff."

"So polite. You could learn a thing or two, Adam. Y̸o̷u̵ ̷s̶h̷o̵u̸l̶d̶ ̸b̶e̶g̶ ̸f̴o̵r̸ ̷y̷o̸u̷r̷ ̶m̴a̵s̵t̴e̶r̸'̷s̶ ̶f̸o̶r̵g̶i̴v̵e̸n̸e̷s̴s̸.̷"

"For the month, that includes Adam," she added, annoyed by Kushiel's constant remarks.

She was suspicious as to why Adam was so silent, too. He's never this quiet.

""H̸a̵v̵e̷n̷'̵t̵ ̸s̸c̴a̶r̴e̸d̶ ̶t̴h̵i̴s̶ ̵o̷n̶e̶ ̶a̴w̸a̴y̵ ̸y̵e̶t̶?̵ ̸Y̶o̶u̴ ̶s̷h̷o̶u̶l̷d̶.̷ ̶A̷n̸y̶ ̴t̴h̸a̸t̵ ̴g̸e̸t̷ ̴c̴l̷o̷s̷e̸ ̶t̵o̴ ̸y̵o̷u̵ ̶s̵u̸f̷f̴e̶r̵.̸ ̷Y̶o̵u̸'̴r̴e̶ ̶b̴e̶i̸n̷g̴ ̴s̷u̷c̶h̴ ̷a̵ ̶g̴o̷o̷d̵ ̸l̴i̸t̶t̴l̴e̷ ̷P̵e̷t̵,̷ ̷k̶e̴e̷p̸i̶n̶g̸ ̴t̷h̵a̸t̷ ̸u̷g̷l̵y̵ ̸m̶o̴u̷t̶h̷ ̸s̴h̵u̵t̸," Kushiel shrugged, seeming accepting of her request. "I must apologise, dear child of the morning star. I'm not comfortable with sinful ilk."

Emily doesn't have an issue.

Did Adam have Alastor take her away because Kushiel is mean and insensitive?

"Apology considered, Mister Kushiel."

She was nervous about how his singular eye twitched.

Whoever this guy is, he's suspicious as fuck.

Kushiel turned from her, seemingly satisfied with communicating with her. He focused on the other angel, his single eye briefly flashing with malice. 

"I̸ ̷c̵a̶n̸'̷t̵ ̵w̴a̷i̵t̶ ̴u̷n̸t̵i̷l̶ ̵h̵e̶ ̷r̴i̴p̸s̴ ̷y̴o̴u̸ ̵a̶p̵a̵r̴t̴ ̸a̸g̸a̸i̷n̸.̵ ̵I̴t̶ ̷w̵a̶s̵ ̶s̴o̸ ̷m̴u̵c̵h̸ ̶f̶u̴n̴ ̸t̸o̶ ̶w̴a̴t̷c̴h̷ ̷l̸a̵s̴t̴ ̶t̸i̷m̴e̴.̷.̷.̴ ̴y̵o̸u̵r̸ ̵c̸r̶i̸e̴s̸ ̴w̸e̵r̷e̶ ̸d̸e̶l̴i̷c̵i̶o̸u̷s̶," Kushiel said, appearing friendly and honest. His words only annoyed Adam, who continued to ignore him. "I̶t̵ ̸m̶u̴s̶t̷ ̷b̷e̴ ̷h̶a̵r̶d̴ ̶t̸o̵ ̵b̸e̵ ̵a̶ ̶w̴a̶s̷h̴e̸d̴-̸u̴p̵ ̷h̷a̷s̸ ̷b̸e̴e̶n̴.̶ ̶Y̴o̷u̶ ̸f̸i̶t̷ ̷r̷i̸g̵h̵t̸ ̵i̵n̵ ̴w̶i̶t̸h̸ ̴t̵h̵e̴s̸e̷ ̷m̵o̵n̶g̸r̴e̸l̸s̶.̵ ̷A̶n̴d̵ ̷h̸e̴r̸e̸ ̶I̸ ̴t̶h̷o̴u̶g̴h̶t̷ ̴y̷o̷u̸ ̴f̴i̶n̶a̷l̶l̵y̵ ̷g̶r̵e̵w̴ ̶a̶ ̷p̷a̸i̷r̸ ̵a̵n̷d̴ ̵w̶e̴r̵e̵ ̸g̷o̴i̴n̶g̸ ̷t̵o̶ ̶f̷i̶n̸a̸l̶l̶y̵ ̷d̶i̸e̴.̷.̷.̴ ̴t̵o̴o̶ ̷c̶o̷w̷a̸r̶d̵l̷y̶ ̴t̸o̵ ̵g̷o̴ ̵t̸h̶r̸o̷u̷g̸h̸ ̵w̶i̷t̸h̵ ̵i̶t̵?̵"

She didn't like how his wings tensed closer against his sides, nor how his tail remained still. Whatever Kushiel said, it was getting to him.

"Cheapest bottle," Adam ordered, strangely devoid of any snark.

Husk looked between him and Kushiel, visibly uncomfortable. Even so, the feline got a bottle for Adam, fur on end.

Kushiel's words and mannerisms aren't matching, whatever they were.

"As you can see, we're doing very well. Sera has nothing to be worried about," Charlie said, something finally hitting her.

He hasn't asked about Emily at all. 

Did he even come here for Emily? Did Sera send him at all?

"I̷ ̸c̴a̴n̴'̷t̴ ̴w̵a̷i̴t̷ ̶t̴o̶ ̵b̵e̶n̶d̸ ̸t̶h̷i̶s̷ ̸l̷i̸t̶t̷l̷e̷ ̴t̴h̷i̴n̴g̸ ̷i̶n̴ ̴h̵a̵l̶f̶ ̵a̴n̷d̸ ̷u̴s̴e̸ ̷h̴e̵r̵ ̷l̷i̵k̸e̵ ̷t̷h̸e̵ ̵p̸a̷t̸h̴e̴t̴i̴c̸ ̷l̴i̶t̷t̶l̶e̶ ̷d̸u̶m̸p̷s̶t̸e̵r̵ ̵s̶h̸e̷ ̶i̷s̷.̷ ̷H̵o̷w̷ ̵p̷a̶t̵h̵e̵t̵i̴c̸ ̶i̷t̷ ̵i̷s̴ ̵t̵o̴ ̵s̴e̸e̷ ̵y̵o̵u̴r̵ ̷n̸i̸e̷c̵e̸ ̷f̴o̶l̷l̵o̸w̵ ̵t̵h̴e̷ ̶s̷a̸m̴e̷ ̷m̶i̴s̵t̸a̵k̵e̶s̷ ̴a̷s̴ ̸y̴o̴u̸r̸s̶e̶l̶f̷ ̶a̴n̸d̶ ̸y̸o̷u̶r̶ ̴s̵t̴u̴p̵i̸d̷ ̴n̵e̷p̶h̸e̴w̶.̶.̷.̴ ̵I̵ ̷w̶o̴n̵d̴e̸r̵ ̷i̸f̴ ̴s̷h̴e̶'̵l̶l̷ ̵s̶c̴r̸e̵a̶m̷ ̴l̶i̴k̴e̶ ̴h̸e̴ ̸d̴i̶d̵?̸"

Adam took in a deep, slow, almost threatening breath. His tail was rigid as if poised to strike.

"Another glass," the first man stated, cold and distant.

Husk, nervous, hesitantly placed a glass near the "Head of Security" as Angel Dust named him. 

Smirking, Kushiel took a spot next to the man, deliberately stepping on his tail. 

Charlie would've admonished the rude angel - he's saying something cruel with a happy face - but the look Husk gave her kept her silent.

The barman knew what was about to happen, whatever that was.

Adam stood, the speed disarming Kushiel. The angel smashed the bottle against the bar, quickly grabbing Kushiel's head/eye and slamming him into it. The sudden violence shocked Charlie, making her squeal as Kushiel collapsed against the floor, holding his profusely bleeding eye in agony.

"I'd say you need to watch what you say, but you won't do much watching anymore," Adam sneered, the growl unsettling her as he looked down at Kushiel almost impassively.

"Y̷o̴u̷ ̸m̶o̵t̵h̴e̶r̸f̸u̵c̴k̴i̵n̴g̴ ̶a̶b̵o̸m̵i̶n̴a̷t̷i̴o̵n̷!̶" Kushiel yowled, clutching the severely damaged eye. "You fucking deserve everything you got!"

"Funny. I was going to say the same about you," Adam spat, kicking Kushiel away from the bar. "Get up. I want you to look down as I invert your fucking ribcage."

The angel sneered at Adam, raising his six wings like a threat.

Though he had more, Adam's wings were cosmic in comparison and shimmered with a heavenly, golden light that Kushiel's notably lacked. They didn't glimmer and shine like a sun's tear. It was almost like an imitation of that grand glow.

There's an unspoken threat that Charlie wasn't privy to. 

"Be mindful of your tongue, halfling," Kushiel scowled, curling his wings slightly forward, trying to look even grander.

A curved piece of metal appeared in one of his hands, startling Vaggie.

Her girlfriend pulled her to the wall, keeping her far from the pair of pissed-off angelic beings.

"Half a man is ten times more than you'll ever be," Adam snarled, flexing his hand open ominously.

A faint aura swirled around Adam's right hand, threatening the summon of a weapon. Unlike before, there was something off about this; it glowed too bright compared to the others.

Even at her distance, Charlie could feel the sheer holy power coming from it.

"You... you kept it!?" the seraph seethed, fuming. "I watched you destroy it!"

"And get rid of the only thing that'll make you losers shit yourselves? Fat chance there, cunt puddle," Adam mocked, cracking his knuckles ominously. "Back down. Unless you want a first-hand demonstration of what I did to Ichabod and Adathon..."

She'd heard of those names. They were Michael's underlings, his favoured soldiers of ruin and damnation. They died brutally; even the censored version was violent. She thought that Uncle Satan had done it, given the sheer viciousness of it.

It was an uncle, just not the one she assumed.

Emboldened by the General's warning, Vaggie raised her spear again. However, a single hit of his tail on the floor made her de-summon it, standing down. 

"For such a disobedient mutt, you trained your dead weight well," Kushiel spat, glaring at Vaggie.

Charlie put herself between him and Vaggie, uncertain what he was talking about but ready to defend her girlfriend. She wasn't a fighter, but her uncle was.

"Charlie-" Vaggie whispered, fear in her throat.

"Is this how you get your vengeance on Lilith, Adam? You have one of your little exorcist girls stab the Princess in the back?" Kushiel mocked, the words hitting Charlie in the soul. "Isn't she the one that was with you when you arranged the extermination? That was certainly her, wasn't it?"

Adam didn't say a word, and neither did her girlfriend. They weren't denying Kushiel's spiteful words. Why aren't they calling him a liar?

The Princess turned her gaze to her horrified partner, shaking and her face twisted with guilt. 

Heart racing, Charlie switched to Adam, almost praying he'd say it was some stupid joke, but he didn't. For the first time since meeting the gigantic asshole, he only gave silent sympathy.

Vaggie was an exorcist. She had been around since the first extermination.

How many of Charlie's people had she slaughtered?

"Nothing to say for yourself? And you call me th-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Adam used his wings to rocket forward, punching the obnoxious angel in the face.

Adam gripped Kushiel's chest and slammed him into the floor, damaging it horrifically. With a determined scowl, the General grabbed Kushiel's top left wing and twisted it until it snapped. The sound was disgusting, part of the bone sticking from the angel's flesh.

The angel opened a portal beneath him, forcing Adam to hover above him to avoid falling through. Once it closed, he stood in a small crater, a sneer plastered on his mask.

Charlie couldn't breathe. A mix of horror and rage burned in her eyes. 

She looked for Vaggie but only saw the back of her partner as she fled.

Charlie had to go after her and get answers, but Adam grabbed her shoulder.

He dragged her, ignoring her yells of fury.

"Get the fuck off me!" Charlie shouted, a million thoughts running through her head.

"No," the angel stated, shoving her into the dilapidated kitchen before shutting the door behind them. 

Angry, she pushed the overweight angel, but he was immovable. He remained firm, not needing any effort to block the door from her. When she backed away, she saw warm gold on her hands.

She saw a tear in his shirt that was leaking the fluid, revealing that he'd gotten at least cut in the scuffle. 

He's injured but looked unphased. 

Emily made it look so easy to move him. Then again, he only did what he allowed her to do.

He watched her with his arms crossed, waiting for her to give up. At most, he passively blinked, not even bothered enough to get annoyed with her efforts.

Horns pushed through her forehead, her anger growing with each passing moment.

"You can't keep me in here!"

"Is that so? Then get past me," the angel said, cold and almost bored. 

The Princess of Hell didn't even try. She watched him beat the shit out of Kushiel; there was no chance she could do anything worthwhile after he shrugged off getting stabbed in the side.

She was furious. How could Vaggie have kept this from her? They shared everything!

Charlie had opened her heart, told her everything, and trusted her! How could she do this to her?

Was any of it real? Was it all a ploy?

Her tail growing from her spine, the Princess tried to push him again, determined to get answers. 

Before she knew what had happened, Charlie was on her back, winded.

A large, muscular tail lowered, though it didn't touch the ground. It waited like a coiled snake, ready to strike once more.

"Are you done? Or do you need more time in the time-out corner?" Adam questioned, almost patronisingly. 

"You knew she was one of your exorcists!"

"Yep," he answered, popping the P. "Spotted her while Em was giving a tour with Sera and Petey."

"Then why didn't you say anything? You don't shut up!"

He was quiet for Kushiel. He only spoke after the angel said something he shouldn't have.

"A little entitled to think you're owed the absolute truth from people immediately. Do you know what changes about this duet with her being an exorcist? Absolutely fuck all."

"How can you say that? It changes everything! She lied to me!"

"Lying, huh? Let's play. Did she tell you that she's a sinner? Did she tell you where she came from, who her family was, or her background? Using that fucking brain in that blonde head, did she lie about any of that?"

A game? It's not a game! It's Charlie's life!

Did Vaggie ever say that she was a sinner? No. She never directly told Charlie that she was a sinner. It was a fair assumption. Why wouldn't she think that?

Vaggie told her that she came from a very religious place. She believed it to be like a cult or a super churchy community.

She said she came from a military family with many sisters and a big brother. 

Technically, none of that was a lie. 

Adam waited, fidgeting with his fingers with mild annoyance as she thought about it more.

She had an angelic weapon on her and had a strange X over her missing eye. But Charlie never thought about it.

Why would she question it? She trusted Vaggie!

"No."

"It changes nothing. You're pissed, yeah? Be mad at the fucker who stole the right to reveal this secret from your partner. He outed her like a pathetic little cunt in the hopes of what's happening right now - you either be a baby whiny bitch and let it ruin what you've got, or you put on your big girl pants and get the fuck over it." 

Kushiel threw Vaggie under the bus because he was losing. He sacrificed her to get into their heads, and it was working.

It was Vaggie's secret to tell. It was something important to her, and he stole that from her.

"How can I get over this?"

"By doing what you're best at - finding the silver lining. Selvaggia wouldn't be at your side if she didn't believe in this bullshit; more importantly, she wouldn't be here if she didn't believe in you. That girl knew she could've gotten spotted in Heaven, but she went with you anyway; that's pretty fucking dedicated."

It was. It explained why Vaggie didn't want to go, but Charlie pushed her.

Her girlfriend wanted to help her at every moment, supporting her dream and fighting for her. Never had Charlie thought to question her loyalty or devotion.

Did being a former exorcist change that much? She had to have killed some of Charlie's people, but that wouldn't be fair since Alastor lived here; he was an actual cannibal.

And what in the Hell was that name?

"Selvaggia?"

"Her name. Things between us are complicated, but it doesn't have to be for you and her."

It's so confusing. Why is Adam, of all people, making sense?

"Why are you helping her? Helping me?"

"I don't believe in this snowflake bullshit, and I couldn't care less about your little drama, but I'm not letting that nobody loser ruin a good thing. It's fucking nothing compared to the other shit you've probably learned today."

Is this a glimpse at the man under the mask? Who her father called his friend. The one he was proud to fight beside.

"I need to find her."

"Don't fuck it up."

"That's not encouraging."

"Fine. Fuck it up."

And like that, the mask is back.

Time to find her girlfriend and comfort her.

Chapter Text

Emily kicked at his door, frustrated.

"Why did you do that!?" she cried, fuming.

"Your companion offered me a deal. The benefit outweighed the annoyance," Alastor said, observing her tantrum. 

A chance to see his sweet ma again. It had been far too long.

He searched for a long time, ensuring she wasn't down here. The only other place was Heaven, where she belonged and he certainly didn't.

Alastor enjoys being sadistic and evil. He finds solace in the darkness, twisting the shadows as though his fingers were made of mirrors and fracturing light itself to his whim. He devoured human flesh and took pleasure in belittling others.

He wasn't a good person. He's content with it. His mother knew he was a monster, but she loved him anyway.

She was the only person in his mortal life he ever truly loved. 

Losing her was the worst experience in his life and afterlife. The opportunity to see her again was too good to pass up.

And it's from his best friend's father.

Rosie was his - platonic - soulmate, his fellow deviant and the second being he held genuine love for. She found him wandering after dying, took him in, helped him get on his feet and cheered him on as he became the Radio Demon. She taught him the ever-changing lingo - he found amusement in the "spilling the tea" phrase.

"I'm not a child! I could've helped!"

And yet she looked like a child.

What would Rosie do? She was far better with children than him. He didn't hate kids; he's fairly neutral to them, though he would never deliberately harm one. 

"Helped how, exactly? Violence doesn't seem to be your speciality, dear."

The girl growled to herself, frustrated.

"He only even showed up because of me."

"Oh? And how is that?"

"I can't tell you or anybody about that."

"Something juicy, I see. How about a little deal?"

"Addie told me not to make deals with you."

"Smart girl. This is no deal for your soul, however. In exchange for this information, I'll give you something invaluable."

The girl narrowed her pretty eyes, trying to look tough to the demon. However, he could see her falter.

It's not like Alastor could prey on her even if he wanted to. One whiff from Adam and Alastor was finished, his only ace to avoid an angelic axe to the neck was Rosie. 

What he offered was minor, something Adam likely already knew. However, it would give him information and context on this peculiar situation.

Rosie will want to know about a cruel angel insulting her father.

Although Alastor wasn't familiar with the angelic language, Eve was. She could decipher it for them. 

"How invaluable?"

"Only a very select few know about it. Given you're from above, you've probably heard of a certain... death, as of late. I know who did it."

It was cute to watch the shift. She wanted what he knew.

She probably knew the exorcist he'd tasted. As a side note, exorcist blood resembles pineapple. 

The girl relented, puffing out her wings.

"One bad move and I tell Addie."

"Fair is fair, my dear," Alastor said, holding his hand to the girl.

Hands clasped together, but Alastor did not initiate a binding contract. That would alert the entire Hotel to such a deed.

He preferred his head on his shoulders.

"You first," the girl said, balling those little grey fists. 

Her attempt at bravado was almost admirable.

"The one that beheaded the exorcist is called Carmilla Carmine."

"Kushiel's blackmailing Addie about who my real father is. I know it's not him, but he doesn't want me to find out."

"Given how the angel takes to you, I presumed you were of his spawn."

"I wish," she sighed, disappointed. "He's been there since I was born. I want him to be my dad, blood or not."

Such information will have Rosie's intrigue. 

"Have you considered telling him as such?"

If things work out for the girl, then she's an adopted sister of his soulmate. By extension, that makes her family to him. Although Alastor lacked a great experience with his family beyond his mother, he valued Rosie.

Knowing Rosie, she'd adopt the girl herself. She's always loved having sisters.

Poor Zestial, the lone man. Personally, Alastor didn't count Seth, but didn't voice that to Rosie; she'd use his antlers to pick him out of her teeth for that.

"I'm scared that he'll reject me."

"A wise woman once said, "If it's not a risk, is it worth doing?". Every decision is a gamble, dear. Without hardship, one cannot grow." 

Those are what his mother would've said. 

It appeared to have sparked something in the little dove. 

"I don't want to lose him."

"At this point, I highly doubt that clown will let you free of his circus."

It's certainly an entertaining one. 

The sands of purgatory are as warm as they are vast, spanning endless miles. It is a place of eternity, its function unknown as the creator fell before its completion. As it held no use to the Arch Council, they cared not for what occurred there.

The ocean had no end, either. No bottom. They would never know its purpose in God's grand design, but today, it would be their meeting place.

The beginning of change.

"There will be no turning back," Damian said, his beautiful eyes burning into Lucifer's soul. "I understand if some of you are afraid. I am, too. We've never faced such a conflict before. However, if the realms are to function as God intended, we must bring down the usurper," he stated, firm and proud. 

"Even with Gadreel, there's no guarantee we'll win," Belphegor said, awake for once. "Metatron has everything we don't."

"Not everything," Lilith challenged, standing proud with her son. "He lacks family. He doesn't know the power of love. That is why he will fall."

Lilith held Lucifer's hand, smiling with her husband.

The sins, several archangels, numerous seraphim and countless demons would be enough to force Metatron to take them seriously. He couldn't dismiss them if they had such support.

"Is it ready?" Satan questioned, his flaming gaze meeting the former human who had yet to speak.

"Yeah. It's ready," Adam confirmed, visibly nervous. "I don't want us to use it."

"Given how tight that fucker's gotten a grip on everything, we won't have a choice," Mammon said, the first of them to recognise the inevitability. "This ain't going to end with peace - that's not an option with this cunt. The only way is to kill him; that is how we'll do it."

A weapon designed to be a threat but not used. However, Mammon spoke true. They all knew that Metatron would never willingly give up his power. He'd never abdicate his throne of lies and blood.

Asmodeus nodded, his tail feathers ruffling in the soft winds.

"War it is," Damian said, determination alight in his eyes. "For the souls of yesterday and tomorrow."

"For our family," Lucifer continued, patting Adam's back. "For everyone he wronged."

"With Gadreel, we ain't gon' lose," Satan affirmed, cracking his knuckles. "Hoist the colours, kid."

Damian nodded, walking out atop the ocean surface. He spread four beautiful wings, the feathers as silver as a full moon. Fire and brimstone coiled within his palms, falling like sand from a broken hourglass. Upon hitting the blue waves, it bubbled into an ominous red, spreading like flame upon timber.

Their endeavour began not with a cry or act of aggression but a changing of tides.

His son stood on the water with expertise and well-earned pride, not even creating a ripple with his presence. With arms outstretched, Damian had turned the rivers of Heaven, Hell and the living world to a blood red.

A dream - a memory of his sweet boy - interrupted. 

Lucifer had slept only half an hour before a volt of familiarity surged down his spine. He knew what Adam's aura felt like, and he knew Kushiel's - though the spat had been brief, a fight had taken place.

What was Kushiel doing in Hell? Hadn't he already reinforced that the turncoat coward should remain behind Mastema's wings? 

He wasn't welcome in Hell. He shouldn't be allowed in Heaven, too, but they had to be soft; it wasn't even like the information Kushiel exchanged for his life was worth it.

Furious, the King entered the Hotel lobby, finding a mess. The fight was over and the coward had fled.

The feline, Husk, was wiping blood from his bar's counter. After literal centuries of dealing with that moron's inability to keep himself whole, Lucifer knew the difference between his blood and a regular angel's.

"Where'd he go?" Lucifer questioned, further analysing the scene.

He spotted a splatter that didn't belong to Kushiel. 

That cunt hurt his friend.

"Adam or that weirdo he glassed?" Husk asked, right ear flicking to the left. 

"Both."

"The angel guy made a portal under himself before the big guy could use his ribs as a trampoline. After that, he dragged Charlie into the kitchen - she left after about ten minutes."

"Why did he take Charlotte in there?"

"Asshole revealed that Vaggie's an exorcist. Not nearly as shocking as how racist that fucker was. He said some fucked up stuff to make Adam smash a bottle, stick it in that bitch's eye and smash his head thingy into my bar. Very satisfying, though. Hässliche Fotze."

That was satisfying to hear. He was sad to have missed it.

Thinking about it, it made sense that Vaggie was an exorcist. She had the complexion, hair and eyes - she looked a lot like the girl from their first extermination meeting. No wonder that hug was so awkward; she already met him beforehand.

"Adam's still in the kitchen?"

"Probably sorting himself out. I saw a funny-looking knife in that bitch's hand."

"A chakram," Lucifer clarified, fuming. "Thank you. I'll make sure he's not bleeding out, then I'll see how Charlie's doing."

"I was a dad once. Let her talk things through with her partner, and she'll come to you."

"What was their name? Your kid."

"Dante, Maelee and Ruby. I wasn't a good father, I've come to terms with that - Josephine wouldn't have let them be fuckups like me, so hopefully, they're upstairs."

Hopefully.

Samael's wide eyes stared at God's creation, one spanning miles and made of stars. It was beautiful, the majestic armillary sphere ticked like a heartbeat, twisting and spinning like a solar system. The outstretched arms were like little planets, demanding your attention with each rotation.

What could this contraption be for? What was its divine purpose in their Lord's plan?

Cautious, Samael walked towards the centre; a set of scales sat at the heart, oddly mundane. Somehow, it was still unfinished.

"Do you like it, Samael?" the Lord spoke, his soft lilac eyes fixated on those scales. 

"It's incredible," Samael nodded, amazed with every working part. "My Lord. What is it?"

"It is the beginning of something majestic, my child," the ancient entity said, gently touching one of the spheres as it passed. "This is Judgement."

"I don't understand. Judgement for what?"

The Lord did not answer, which was suspicious.

What could he be keeping? It was unusual for God not to be forthcoming.

"May I ask your opinion, Samael?" he asked, his three eyes meeting Samael's. The kindness and patience were infinite. When Samael nodded, they briefly grew heavy with conflict. "Metatron. How is he fairing?"

"With Eden? I'm uncertain. He doesn't understand why he's in charge of it, though. They confuse him. The fauna, the flora - all the blueprints for what'll eventually inhabit Earth."

That answer did not soothe the unease in the Lord's sad smile, as if he was disappointed or worried.

Metatron was the first of the angels. Of course, he's different to the rest. He's to be God's successor someday, to follow God's plan and perhaps someday ascend with him.

God is of a race Samael knew little to nothing about. They were beings of energy that created life. Each used their essence and power to create a galaxy, creating harmony in Azathoth's dreamscape of a reality. Once one of the Lord's species has completed its task, they assign one of their creations to oversee and guide that galaxy.

Samael didn't know what happened to the entities afterwards. It was not his place to ask, nor necessary information, even if he was curious. 

This "Judgement" had never been mentioned before. With how proud the Lord was, it implied that this was a new concept. 

Metatron is, of course, destined to take that place as the successor. He will guide this galaxy and the realms attached to it. That's his purpose as the Voice of God.

But being the first had unforeseen consequences. He wasn't as whole as the others. Though they never said it, they all knew he was... detached. He didn't feel as they did. 

When God began Eden, Metatron was put in charge of it. He had expressed frustration with the fauna, his apathy to "inferior" life accentuating over the aeons. He needed the Lord's compassion, patience and kindness to guide the eventual life that God would populate the galaxy.

That wasn't happening, or the progress was imperceptibly slow.

Was it wrong that Samael had little faith in his eldest kin?

"I love all my children deeply. I... grow concerned for him. I made him with the same love I did with you and your kin, and yet, there is a disconnect I cannot decipher. I hoped that Eden would alleviate these worries, but they have not."

Hearing the Lord so despondent was wrong. He is a loving being, who only desires the best in others.

"Is this Judgement going to help him?"

"I hope so, my morning star. At the very least, it will lift a heavy burden. One that has yet to come to existence, but will soon. I think you will quite enjoy it, Samael."

The Judgement Scales were made to dictate who went where in death. It was created with equality, equity and love; mercy and compassion were an integral part of it all.

When God created Mael and split them into Adam and Lilith, something changed in Metatron. It was like they were an insult to him or a threat somehow. 

Eventually, the lunatic slew their beloved creator, one who'd sooner accept death than harm any of his children. 

Metatron sought to change Judgement's system, never having been taught its intricacies by the Lord - none besides God knew how to operate it. 

From Lucifer's understanding, there was a missing piece that only allowed Metatron to alter some of what dictated where you went. If left up to him, all souls would go to Hell regardless of their innocence. Without God to fix it, they didn't know how to navigate this system with rules that not even Metatron fully comprehended.

Some theorised that finding that missing piece will return it to its former state, but that's merely a hypothesis. Nobody even knows what's missing and where.

There's a decent chance that Husk's children went to Hell regardless of their upbringing.

He couldn't tell him that, however.

"I hope so, too," Lucifer said, hiding his doubts. "Thanks again, Husk."

The feline gave a small thumbs up as Lucifer stalked towards the dilapidated and awful kitchen. He didn't know why Charlotte hadn't boarded the place out of reach.

The King entered, finding some blood on the floor. It revolted him, only because he cared about who it belonged to.

Adam was inspecting his ruined shirt, visibly irritated by the blood-stained gash. His tail was brushing the floor clean enough to see the reflection of his beautiful wings.

"What did he say to you?" Lucifer questioned, suspicious. 

"Eh? Oh, sup," the man shrugged off, more focused on his shirt. "I liked this one. Fuck sake."

"You can get another one. Since you're avoiding that question, show me where he cut you."

"I'm fine. Don't be a little bitch about it," he dismissed, briefly motioning to his "unharmed" body.

Lucifer knew glamour spells when he saw them. He practically invented them.

The King crossed his arms, unimpressed. 

"Glamour. Off. Now."

"It's barely a scratch."

"That's Adam for "I'm probably going to pass out in a minute", so sit your ass down and let me help you."

"You still wouldn't be able to reach."

As much as the jab was empty, it was true. The first man was more than twice Lucifer's height. He's twelve foot six specifically. Meanwhile, Lucifer didn't even reach his waist. 

It was fun while on the tower's shoulder back then. The bastard had the pair to call Lucifer his cockatiel.

Given Lucifer's adoration of avian creatures, it wasn't as much of an insult as Lucifer pretended.

"Lie down then, smart ass."

"Smartest you know."

"Very funny. Ass on the floor - now!"

With a grunt of disapproval, the first man begrudgingly sat on the floor. After a few moments, he was on his back, unimpressed with Lucifer's satisfied smirk.

Getting this man to care for himself is like pulling teeth with chopsticks.

The King summoned several first aid equipment - he doesn't have that available because he is an oblivious klutz when not in life-threatening danger. It was good to have, though. For instance, he can stitch up his best friend.

Lucifer flicked Adam's arm, forcing him to move it and provide access. The laceration isn't deep, thankfully. It's going to scar, but what's one more? 

They've all got their marks. For Lucifer, his arms were the most obvious, but he has several medals on his skin, reminders of what he's survived and overcome. 

"The glamour is off?"

"It is there."

"So, you might have more injuries."

"I don't."

"Do I have to dispel it for you?" 

Lucifer wouldn't do that; it's an empty threat, and Adam knew it. 

The man relented, revealing several piercings Lucifer hadn't been privy to. When had he gotten these? It's not a complaint, the furthest from it.

They looked good.

"Sera and Mastema don't approve of my "ruining" my body, so I have to hide it."

"I'd hardly call it ruining. Have you got any others?"

"None you'll see."

"Cryptic."

Of course, this madman got his dick pierced. 

Lucifer had considered it once, but getting a piercer with angelic steel equipment was impossible. He didn't trust Mammon's supposed sources, either. He thought about asking Asmodeus or Satan, but he didn't want his siblings to know about his sex life.

It took a while for him and Lilith to figure things out. She had a low libido but got off on voyeurism; watching Lucifer fuck someone or get fucked riled her up in all the best ways. They always blindfolded whoever they hired; it wasn't Hell's business what they did in their bedroom.

Even then, that wasn't often. It was likely average compared to other couples, but they had much more time than the mortal beings. 

"How'd you get that done?"

"Abbadon, Sizouze and Amitiel started a place as a hobby, and three of my girls work there - officials aren't allowed, but I've got my ways."

"Let me guess. Sex?"

"And contraband! Amitiel's gotten very attached to weed. I've argued it shouldn't be banned, but Aeshma still thinks that Ronald Reagan's utter failure of a war on drugs was a smart idea."

"Yeah, she's never been the most open-minded. I'm surprised by Amitiel, though. I figured they'd be super intolerant."

"Woodstock fixed that. The good one, not that cash grab bullshit in '99."

Lucifer had heard of Woodstock - there's a lower-ranking Overlord girl who controls Marijauna with that nickname. She had a funny shop called Mary Jane's Plantpot. Though he didn't smoke, Lilith enjoyed the "devil's lettuce".

Thankfully, he managed to discourage Charlie from touching drugs, especially during her emo phase.

He carefully cleaned the wound, continuously drawn to that silver nipple piercing that was so close to touching his elbow. He was fascinated by the tattoos Adam acquired over the aeons, including the bouquet close to his heart. Each flower was different, tied together by a piece of ivy.

He analysed it as he stitched the wound closed.

What was the story behind that? And thank fuck Kushiel didn't ruin it.

"You want to know about them. The ink."

Is Lucifer that obvious? Probably.

"A bit. The sleeve is cool - I'm curious about that, though."

"My kids. They each had a favourite flower. It was a bit of a bitch; I had to go to Mammon so I didn't fuck up the meanings. Abel loved roses; Aclima liked lotuses; Anāq thought she could keep her little garden of comet orchids from me; Azura adored lilies; Cain collected rosemaries; Seth liked looking for four-leaf shamrocks. The ivy is for Eve."

Lucifer knew all about that stuff. Despite being a greedy bastard, Mammon's job was to create plant life; he knew the most out of the angels, fallen or otherwise. 

Abel had a light pink rose, symbolising the joy of life, youth and passion.

Aclima's lotus symbolised rebirth, purity in the chaste sense and eloquence.

Anāq's comet orchid, or Angrec, symbolised royalty.

Azura's red lily symbolised lofty aspirations.

Cain's rosemary symbolised remembrance.

Seth's shamrock was more well-known as a symbol of good luck.

Eve's ivy symbolised dependence, endurance and faithfulness.

In summary, they had very fitting meanings.

It's sweet and cute. He should do something like that for Charlotte and Damian.

Speaking of Damian.

"You have one of Dami?"

"Damn right. He's here," the man said, twisting to show his shoulder.

It sat above his right wing, a raven with vivid silvery green eyes. It was Dami's favourite animal.

Curiously, it wasn't alone. 

To its right was a duck, behind the raven was a majestic flamingo, and on the left was a little cygnet. It was far more recent than the other three. 

Lilith would be as touched as he was.

"Not a fucking word."

Dumbass must've forgotten about that little addition. It's so cute.

"Lily would love it."

Even if depicting Lilith as a flamingo was a running joke; ever since Adam saw the bird, he compared it to her.

Flalilith was a nickname for far too many centuries.

"Yeah, well, I need a new shirt," the man said, shutting off from the King. 

Watching him perform the glamour spell was a shame, hiding those beautiful and meaningful body modifications. 

How can detailed displays of affection be "ruining"?

"Wish I could get something like that. Not a place you can go around here."

"Bullshit. I'll do it."

"Eh?" Lucifer blurted out, confused.

"I did half of these myself - the flock and bouquet are Sizouze's handiwork. I do the tats for my girls; they're super obsessed with rats."

The reason was obvious to the King.

"Aww, are they still your favourite?" he smiled, amused by the devotion to the curious rodents.

"And pigs. Pigs are fucking awesome."

Pigs aren't Lucifer's favourite, but he could see the appeal. Not with the ones in Wrath, though. They're nasty.

That reminds him of something.

"I think Angel Dust has a pet pig."

"Why didn't anyone tell me earlier? I need to see this!"

The excitement was so sweet, washing away that brief moment of hiding behind that mask - not the literal one. 

If it meant seeing his friend smile, Lucifer might do anything. It had always been warm, even as they both grew weary and old in the soul.

He missed seeing it so often.

Angel Dust looked into his mirror, feeling the regular urge to blast his brain into cloud nine. 

He's tired. He's sore. Everything hurt in ways he should be used to by now. 

There wasn't anything to do about it.

Angel's trapped in this deal, a soul contract that bound him to Valentino's wicked ways. His only hope was, annoyingly, the Hotel. 

It started very differently. The change was slow, calculated and malicious. Over time, Valentino broke him down, trying to hollow him out into his perfect plaything. 

Drugs and sex were Angel's way of taking back what little control he had left. He could choose what to take, who could use him and place a limit. That wasn't possible in the studio, so he did what he could beyond it. Fuck nobodies like Travis, feel a fleeting semblance of passion, high or otherwise.

Gaining a close friend like Cherri gave him something to cling to. Somebody to talk to. She was there when he needed someone. 

The Hotel was supposed to be where he could keep Fat Nuggets safe. It was rent-free and gave him a break.

Val never stopped touching him; it was exhausting. If staying with a delusional broad and her girlfriend gave him a place to sleep uninterrupted, he could tolerate their antics.

Becoming attached to the people there wasn't intentional. Even the creepy cannibal had earned a spot in Angel's weary heart. And Whiskers...

That wasn't a possibility, but it was sweet to think about. Somebody who saw through Angel Dust's mask and defences, someone who liked him, not what he could do. 

He didn't believe in redemption, but some big shot in Heaven seems to think it's doable. They even sent the sweetest kid with wings to assist. 

Thanks to that, he got to see Molly again; his beautiful sister was where she belonged. She even had a girlfriend, Shiloh. What he would do to hug her, hear her voice and meet the woman that earned his twin's heart.

If redemption is possible, then he could see her again. He could be free of Valentino. It was a pipe dream, but something to work towards.

Was his ma up there as well? He'd have to ask Adam; the man seemed to know everybody. 

That made sense, given he's the origin of humankind. 

Although the man didn't outright say it, Angel knew a fellow addict, former or current, when he saw one. It didn't feel like he was being talked down to.

Charlie is great, but she's trying to run an AA group without ever having touched alcohol. The attempt is admirable but misguided.

It won't be long until Val gets bored. He had to leave.

Putting his clothes back on was difficult - he had enough bruises to be mistaken for a Dalmatian. He needed a hot shower to burn away the lingering touches and invasions, to clean his fur free of fluids.

A brief hit would take the pain away. He could find a vending machine on the way back to Nuggets.

As the spider sinner snuck through the labyrinth of a studio, he overheard something unusual. It was a woman's voice, but not in distress or anguish. She sounded frustrated, sassy, maybe insulting.

Curiosity pulled Angel to eavesdrop. It could be a new girl that he'll have to help settle into her new torment.

He leaned against the wall, his ear close to the door. They were deliberately frail, so when Valentino broke them, it wouldn't hurt him to do it. 

"She's sure about this?" came Velvette, of all people.

That's odd.

She's always far from the studio.

"She's already paid a century's worth of profits in advance, so yeah, she's damn sure," came Vox's voice, bizarrely excited. "With this one job, we'll be kings! And a queen."

"Damn fucking straight."

"We've never killed one before. We don't even know who killed the other one! How does this puta know? I've never heard of this bitch before," said Valentino.

Since when was Val the cautious one?

"If it can kill that oversized bird, it'll obliterate any of our opponents. All the Overlords would kneel or suffer!" Vox cackled, his voice glitching briefly. "The future of Hell belongs to the Vees."

"And Lucifer? Not to mention the fat fucker we're stuck with and the rest of the royal bastards," Velvette challenged.

"Sucks to be you two!"

"Shut it, piss baby," she snapped. "It's just like with us, Vox. You fuck with one, you get them all. If anything, we should do her in and get more money from Lucifer."

"And miss out on ruling all of Hell? Not a chance," Vox said, dismissing her. "Trust me, guys. We'll be royalty with this."

That's concerning.

Something he can worry about another time, however. 

The sinner quickly left the building, intrinsically familiar with the routes and shortcuts in the deliberately confusing layout. It took several decades to memorise the exits, to tell between the false and true. 

The streets are long, quiet and ominous. He had the foreboding sensation of being watched, though thankfully not by Val's wickedness. Another darkness consumed the shadows, lurking and waiting.

Once Angel realised where it was coming from, he couldn't stop himself from looking, seeking a peek at the watcher. Green eyes like neon venom floated in the unlit umbrae of an alleyway, almost mocking Angel Dust with their presence. There was something different; he hadn't felt the gaze of something like that before.

Many had undressed Angel with their eyes. Some went further, imagining him without his fur or skin. This one... they're peering into his very soul, dissecting it from afar. A fear that's deep and primal, an instinctual sensation in his very DNA, dead or otherwise.

Valentino had managed to hide his wickedness from Angel in the beginning. He hid his evil well, lulling Angel into a false sense of security before locking the little bird in a cage. This, however...

There is no hiding that kind of malice. It made Alastor look like a teddy bear. 

Forcing his eyes away from the floating peridots, Angel started to walk, but he never felt their gaze leave him. They followed like a particularly stubborn STD. 

A hiss tickled the fur on his neck, spurring the spider to turn, his third set of arms revealed with their Tommy guns. He found nothing.

"It's rude to eavesdrop..." clicked a feminine, raspy voice.

Though Angel searched for the owner, he couldn't find the origin of that voice.

He's being toyed with, like a cat with a mouse. 

How did they know? He knew nobody else was watching. He knew where every camera was. He knew everyone's schedules and when the time was right to flee. 

"Who the fuck are ya!?" Angel snarled, attempting to make himself more menacing than he was. He can shoot, sure, but beyond that? He was a long-range fighter - close combat is more of Cherri's forte.

He didn't know who was messing with him. Were they an Overlord or some random asshole?

"Don't be like that, Anthony," teased the feminine voice, those words slithering around his throat. "I hold the key to your freedom..."

The word lapped at his soul like a starved kitten finding fresh milk. Freedom. What he's yearned for so desperately for decades. 

He didn't have a soul to sell. Even so, that was no problem for this stranger. That was the implication, anyway.

"What key?" he asked, almost desperately.

"I can break contracts, dear," she mused, far closer than before.

He could hear scales scrape against the pavement. It reminded him of Pentious.

She's a serpent.

"Nobody can do that."

"I'm not nobody," she countered, sounding like she was right next to him.

However, as before, she wasn't where Angel heard her. It's like she's everywhere and nowhere.

As the spider backed up, panic trailing down his fur from his pours, he bumped into something warm and alive where there should be nothing.

The demon turned again, but she was here this time. He was correct, she's like Pentious, only far larger. 

Deep down, Angel knew she didn't belong here. Is she a Hell born that he had never heard of? Was she one of those other sins? He had no clue. 

"I will come to you again. When I do, you will do as I say, if you ever want to be free of Valentino," she hissed, lowering her cobra-like head to him.

She had to be over thirty feet long at least. If she wished, she would swallow him in a single bite.

With a sharp glare from those intense, vicious eyes, the titan slithered into the shadows without a trace.

Holy shit, that was terrifying.

His heart was in his throat, pounding.

Angel Dust retracted his tertiary set of arms, anxiety prickling his fingers like pins and needles. 

What was she talking about? What was her name? 

Husk was an Overlord once, right? Maybe he knew who she was. 

He froze as a car screeched down the street, skidding to a stop beside him - and partially on the sidewalk. Such awful driving betrayed who was behind the wheel.

Cherri Bomb punched the window out, her glowing singular eye filled with panic and concern. It instantly spiked worry in the other sinner.

"Get in the back, Angie!"

"Cherri? The fuck-"

Irritated, the Australian got out and opened the back door, showing why she was in such distress.

Angel couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Arackniss?"

His older brother looked like someone had used him as a chew toy. 

He wasn't even conscious, one of his eyes too swollen to open if he was. Whoever did this hadn't just beat him, it was evident that the end goal was to kill him. A deep stab wound in the shoulder far too close to the heart for comfort wasn't healing, not even slowly.

There's that smell, the scent of angelic metal that was unmistakable. He'd gotten very close to such a material from Adam's axe.

"What happened?" Angel asked, his blood frigid with worry.

"Your dad happened," Cherri said, disgusted. "That shitty hotel got space, yeah?"

"A lot of space," Angel agreed, getting into the back with Niss. "He fucked you up good, little guy, eh? Ti ho preso, fratellone."

The car - most certainly stolen - revved to life. While he never trusted her to drive, he wanted to stay with Arackniss; their father had done a number on him. It was confusing as Arackniss was the favourite or the least despised. Their dad never liked being a parent.

Out of the four, he was the least nasty to Arackness. Even that didn't last.

It's been a while since Angel got time with his brother. Somehow, Henroin and Valentino fought, keeping the brothers apart. That was before Henroin lost his soul to Zestial, that super scary spider-bat guy.

Currently, the Hotel is the safest place in Hell. 

Henroin, no matter how strong or enraged, didn't stand a chance against "Hellraiser" - Adam's nickname gifted by the unaware public - or Alastor. Either of them would be a good enough deterrent.

The fact that Lucifer was hanging around only strengthened that defence. The Hotel was a castle of safety, a sanctuary where his brother could heal. 

Their weird little gaggle of has-beens and outcasts continued to grow. 

Vaggie had needed to get away. She was mortified.

How could she have been so foolish to think that she could keep that horrible past a secret? The things that she'd done to her love's people...

Being abandoned in Hell, she should've perished. However, Charlotte came to her aid, became a friend, and then so much more than Vaggie could've ever wished.

She couldn't admit to what she was, the part she played in the exterminations. It was Vaggie's idea to isolate the sinners in Pride!

She partook in all the exterminations, then spent the rest of the year as if it hadn't happened. She hung out with her sisters, did errands, acted as an unofficial police force for Heaven and was loyal and perfect. She did everything right, and the man she looked to as a brother threw her away.

He stood by as Lute cut out her eye, stole her wings and snatched her halo - he did nothing as the literal psychopath crippled her. He left her.

For seven years, not a single word from him or her sisters. They had left her like she was nothing. 

And when Vaggie returned to Heaven to support Charlie, the only one who seemed to recognise her was the man who doomed her. He even blackmailed her, wanting Charlie's dream smothered, despite once having fought and almost died for it long ago.

It infuriated her that he was here, acting like nothing happened, like he hadn't abandoned her. He even told her to tell Charlie. How could she have done that? 

Kushiel, the turncoat coward, stole that from her. Although she couldn't willingly tell Charlie that she'd been a monster, that she was beside Adam during many of those exterminations, he took that right from her. She was there at the first meeting!

The things that he was saying... they were disgusting. Thank the long-deceased Lord that Charlotte didn't understand the angelic tongue. 

The cost of Adam breaking a glass in his vile face was being exposed. It wasn't worth the price.

She had to hate her, be disgusted by her...

What did Vaggie have without Charlie?

"Vaggie?"

The exorcist froze at her girlfriend's voice - likely former girlfriend, given what she'd just learned.

Charlie had always deserved better.

What can she do? She can't run. Surely, Lucifer will hunt her down for deceiving his daughter.

"It's me," Charlie continued, getting close to the fraud. 

"I'm going!" she yelped, panic burning her veins. "I-I'll be gone. You won't-"

"You don't need to go anywhere," Charlie interrupted. "Can you look at me? Please?"

And see the horror, the disgust and hatred? No. Not again.

Could Vaggie ever say no to Charlie, though? She couldn't do that either. 

She had always struggled with going against what was asked of her.

Fighting every step, Vaggie forced herself to look at Charlotte, her fear and panic on display.

Instead of anger, she saw guilt and regret in her beloved's eyes. It instinctively made Vaggie want to find out who hurt her, but she knew it was her fault.

It was probably her fault that she got thrown from Heaven.

"I'm so sorry..." Vaggie stuttered, disgusted with herself.

How could she do this to the person she loved more than anything?

Charlotte only approached, bringing her hands to Vaggie's tear-stained cheeks. She didn't deserve such gentleness for being a liar, a killer of her people.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, her voice filled with love and sympathy. "I'm sorry he took this from you. Being able to tell me when you were ready."

She should be angry with Vaggie. 

She shouldn't be apologising for anything!

But her words, the genuine warmth in her girlfriend's touch, only made the tears flow harder. It burned, but she couldn't stop.

"I lied to you!" Vaggie cried, her chest pulling tight.

"It's ok," Charlie said, hugging her. "You're still my Vaggie, no matter where you came from."

What had Vaggie done to deserve this kindness? This love, this compassion and forgiveness...

She never deserved Charlie. Never would.

Words failed the former soldier. All she could do was hold onto her love and sob, relieved that Charlie didn't hate her but was afraid. She's so scared now that Kushiel outed her. 

For a few moments, she could allow herself to feel safe in Charlie's arms, shielded from the angry universe beyond. 

Chapter Text

Judgement ticked by, but it was wrong. He had stared at this creation for years - decades - he knew it like his heartbeat. It had a soothing tone, a promise.

The planetary replicas were majestic, each with their moons. It was the size of Earth's moon, intricate and carefully engineered, but still unfinished. It was that incompletion that doomed Abel to the incorrect destination.

When Adam arrived in Heaven, he was alone. He'd never been alone before. He always had Lily, Samael, Eve, his children or the people he created. It felt so... hollow.

Where his rib once sat in his chest burned. The further he was from Eve, the more it hurt. Being only half of a soul was already a struggle.

Like magnets, he and Lilith were drawn to each other. They're halves of the same whole, twins, the night and the day. Losing her was... indescribable.

Despite what she had done, he missed her. He missed all of them.

He blamed Eve for a time after being removed from Eden. She broke the only rule in the garden. However, he eventually accepted that she was deceived, so her responsibility was vastly diminished. She trusted Lily; why wouldn't she accept a fruity gift?

It was originally only going to be Eve who had to leave. The divine promised to manufacture a new partner whose creation wasn't as painful as Eve's, but he didn't want someone else. He wanted her.

He wanted his wife, his best friend, who didn't go behind his back. She ensured that he wasn't alone. He couldn't abandon her as Lily had with him, so he went with her.

It was hard to figure out how to survive. They didn't have any help from the angels, although deep down, he knew that God was watching. He had felt the ancient being's presence on the odd occasion, guiding them when needed.

One such moment was the birth of their first child, his big girl, Anāq. He'd felt God guiding him during Eve's labour, helping as best as he could. 

She had been so small in his hands. The darling squealed something fierce, insulting the Heavens themselves with her moxy. It's something she'd never lost; if anything, that fiery personality only evolved. Her confidence, aspirations, innovation and leadership skills were admirable.

All of them were beautiful.

Parenting was hard. Every decision impacted the little person they had created. They made so many mistakes; it's not like he and Eve were ever children, so they could only do their best, even if that wasn't always enough. 

The accident with Abel was evidence of that. No matter what the angels spouted, it'd been an accident.

Cain and Abel butted heads like he had with Lilith. It was a sibling thing, the bizarre fusion of hate and love for a person. As the younger, Abel wanted to be like his big brother, pestering him constantly to play with him. As the elder, Cain wanted to be a leader and tried teaching Abel with tough love.

It was one such spat that took Abel from them. He and Cain were arguing while Adam was skinning a deer he'd caught. It happened so often that he wasn't too concerned. He should've, though.

In a fit of anger and frustration, Cain yelled at Abel in a way that startled the younger boy. At that moment, he slipped, the back of his head crashing into a rock. 

Adam had thought a lion or a bear was attacking with how Cain screamed, horrified. His elder son was mortified and traumatised, ugly sobbing for Abel to get back up. 

Somehow, Judgement failed Abel. His boy hadn't done anything to earn a place in damnation. None of his children did, especially Cain.

No matter how hard Adam tried, Cain never forgave himself for what was an accident. It'd left invisible scars he could only soothe, never heal. 

How would Cain react to learning that Abel had been sent to Hell?

Deep down, he was scared that none of them would ascend, that he'd be alone for eternity, surrounded by pure creations of God with no comprehension of his experiences. 

"There you are," came the deep, rumbling voice of the creator, the designer of this grand achievement. 

How he made Judgement, Adam wouldn't bother asking. It was beyond any nicknacks he'd made on Earth to ease their lives.

The six appendages attached to his back nestled against his sides, uncertain of the divine's intentions. Why did he want to see Adam?

"I like the sounds."

It was preferable over the suffocating silence.

"It relaxes you," the ancient entity identified, shrinking to sit beside the first man. "I find great comfort in its song as well."

"Song?"

"Yes. Recall the rhythmic way you and Lilith would mimic birds - those are songs. Singing. A musical sound that soothes."

Singing.

He liked the sound of it.

Any sound was better than the silence of Heaven.

They listened to the noise and company making the isolation more tolerable. The repetition with the occasional change was welcomed. 

A rhythm. Music. Abstract and without intended direction.

What if Adam deliberately made sounds but with a planned rhythm and perhaps even some singing to go with it?

However, there would always be the absence of his sweet boy. That was a wound that wouldn't close.

Why did Judgement fail him so horribly?

"Can I go to Hell?" Adam asked, counting the symphony of the machine's sounds. 

"Do you know why I made you a seraph, Adam?" God questioned, his trio of lilac eyes meeting Adam's now golden pair. "You excelled beyond my expectations. The moment you willingly chose to accompany Eve, I became proud. I hope that your descendants follow your example, my child."

He didn't know what to say to such information. 

Metatron always said how God was disappointed in him. Was that before leaving Eden? It had to be.

At least he did something right if God was saying it. 

"You didn't answer my question."

"I did," God smiled. "When more come - and they will - they will need more than I and the angels. They will need a soul that has experienced the same hardships as them. You teach the angels how to interact appropriately with humans. You are an integral piece in this machine. Your empathy, not just sympathy, is invaluable." 

"That should be Abel. Not me."

"I am correcting that error," the divine being stated, sympathy coming like waves from an ocean. Somehow, Adam knew the deity was hiding something. "So long as Abel hasn't acted in a way that would damage the purity of his soul, he can ascend as he should've to begin with."

"I don't understand. What purity?"

"Every soul is clean - it is akin to a cloud," God said, conjuring one before Adam. "Every action that is taken either maintains the purity or darkens it," he continued, twisting the cloud into angry colours, cracks forming along the surface. "The more marred a soul, the harder it is to purify and redeem into Heaven. As Hell is for those unwelcome in the peace of Heaven, their influence may have encouraged Abel to make decisions barring him from this realm."

Adam didn't want to believe that. His son was a good boy.

"Then I can "darken" it to join him."

"I know this separation brings great sorrow, my child. But your place is here. This devotion and loyalty to others cement your place as my Angel of Souls."

It wasn't what Adam wanted.

He wanted his baby boy.

How can he be responsible for the virtuous if his child was damned? 

The divine being stood, stepping into Adam's line of sight and blocking some of Judgement. The deity unfurled a porcelain white hand, showing a peculiar cylindrical object with various rectangles on the right, though only at the top. It resembled a key but also didn't.

"What's that?"

"Something I entrust you to hold onto," God said, awaiting Adam's hand. Once it was offered, God placed the odd object in his palm; it felt warm against his skin. "It will be needed in time, my child. Until then, however, keep it close."

"Is this scrap or something?"

"Not quite," he answered cryptically. "Consider it a token, a piece of me. Let it remind you that I am proud of who you have grown into and what I know you can be."

Gold and light swirled into existence, manifesting the thing that threatened Kushiel.

He had many axes. Some were new, some were old, and this one was ancient. It was forged by his hand. As there were no humans in Heaven for a very long time, God gave him a job; craft pieces for Judgement to further its completion. It was this that taught him how to make this.

His greatest pride and heaviest burden. A curse. It's heavy, and despite being unused for four thousand years, it looked as grand as when he first forged it. 

Carefully, the first man fiddled with the haft of the large labrys. Without a sound, it opened, showing that very mysterious piece. 

There were two reasons he couldn't bring himself to destroy this thing. One was because it was Damian's design, and the other was because it held one of the last untainted pieces of God.

He never learned why God wanted him to hold onto it. For all Adam knew, it truly was some random bit of scrap. 

However, it was proof of God's pride, arguing every moment of Metatron's vicious belittlement. There wasn't a day where that monster didn't break him down, either out of boredom or sadism. 

It wasn't a question of what Metatron had done. What hadn't he done? 

Somehow, it was better when he was the only one who knew the true depravity of God's first creation and mistake. 

Nobody knew what happened after Sera was captured. They had a decent idea, knowing how fucked up Metatron's sycophants were, but even he underestimated what'd happened. 

More meetings. Great.

He's not drunk enough for this bullshit.

"Judgement remains afflicted by Metatron's meddling. Until it is repaired, we must keep the illusion of control. The virtuous do not understand the complexity of this predicament," Aeshma stated, her long body curling around the meeting chamber.

She was sixty feet in length with eight pairs of limbs. Three pairs of wings sat on her back, each the size of a bus.  Her eyes were solid black, easily mistakable for spots. 

Despite this, she was terrible when it came to poker.

"Most of them don't know that a war even happened," Semyaza continued, their reptilian form rising briefly.

They only had three wings - the other three were torn off in a vicious scrap with Pronoia and Moroni. Numerous silvery eyes decorated their deep slate grey body, their twin tails dancing behind the curtains of their remaining wings. 

Despite looking like a plucked chicken - in Adam's opinion, at least - they were also a giant entity, standing at twenty-six feet on their hand legs. 

"Abbadon and Layla assisted in Judgement's conception. Have they no plan?" Mastema questioned, her neon green eyes flicking to Adam's mismatched pair. "You also aided in its development."

"I made screws, bolts and other insignificant shit, Tema," Adam huffed, scowling at her, even if the movement made the still-healing burns on his face ache. "Layla was made after Judgement was started, you stupid serpent."

Mastema's wings flared, displaying her fury at his insult.

"I am no vile creature, halfling!"

"Enough!" Gabriel bellowed, forcing Mastema to back down. "Many humans are following a book based loosely on Damian's tale. While largely incorrect, they believe following this strict conduct will grant them a place here. To alleviate any potential confusion and unrest, we should play along. Lucifer, Mammon, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Satan and Belphegor are doing so with the concept of sins."

"Have you read it?" Hamaliel challenged, perplexed. "It's nonsense, Gabriel! Raphael would've burnt it if she saw the travesty in there!"

"Indeed. There is a quote in one requesting that infants be "dashed against stones". It is one of several such... disturbing creations," Semyaza furthered.

"And it's not only one iteration. And what of the other religions with similar beliefs?" Jophiel added, concerned. "Sera, how many did you last see?"

Anticipating an analytical response, Adam rolled his eyes, already bored. However, he grew concerned when the seraph remained quiet, her eyes fixated on something that wasn't there.

That's nothing unusual. They all had moments like that, trapped in a flash of the past that felt as real as the present. For him, alcohol and drugs made it easier to cope with.

"Sera?" Aeshma asked, curling over herself to get closer to the distracted seraph. 

"Don't touch her," Jophiel said, gently pushing Aeshma's head out of the way. "Sera. Sera - it's Jophiel. Can you tell me where you are?" she asked, kneeling to appear smaller and less of a threat.

Gabriel said something to Semyaza and Mastema, but Adam was focused on Sera. She, like many, was still recovering. Physically, at least. They were all scarred mentally in ways that wouldn't heal. 

Being interrogated for over two hundred years by a monster left marks. He understood more than most how demented that monster could be to get what he wanted. 

They'd never liked each other before and still didn't - Sera was apathetic to humans in general - but they shared the marks only he could leave behind. In so many ways, he wished he was the only one; his dislike of Sera didn't mean she deserved Metatron's unbridled cruelty.

"This meeting is adjourned for now," Gabriel ordered, worried. "Aeshma, inform Phounebiel. Make haste!" he added, voice growing in urgency. 

"Sera?" Jophiel questioned again, trying to get her attention. "It's Jophiel. You're safe here."

Sera remained transfixed on nothingness, eyes strained and body rigid. 

It felt different to an episode, however. He's seen plenty and endures them regularly like most vets. He's familiar with her behaviour, pre and post-imprisonment. 

She was a little off yesterday, too. The woman was a workaholic, she'd sooner slit her throat than willingly take an early leave to her chambers. It was after Ruman, Rahaband Mastema had threatened to lock her in her room to rest, so he didn't think about it.

After all, they've followed through on that threat with him countless times. On the off occasion, Jophiel, Gabriel or Abbadon would lock him in their chambers to ensure he wasn't off getting shit-faced on enough moonshine to knock out Jahoel. 

Something was wrong.

The first man approached, remaining cautious. He'd rather not get a wing to the face again; it was a pain in the ass getting feathers out of his eyes. One of them's already fucked, he doesn't need the other one to go, too.

There's something else now that he's closer. That smell...

He knows it vividly, even with the minty pungency of angelic aura. How couldn't he? It was his first introduction to paternity. 

But that couldn't be possible. The mere concept of fornication repulsed Sera - she hated it whenever the subject was in earshot. 

Even though it's impossible, it's happening.

A switch flips on and he goes into autopilot. He's done this several times before with Eve, the humans he created and the occasional mishap with soldiers acting irresponsibly. 

"Get her down," the first man ordered, concerning Jophiel. "She's in labour."

"What!?" Gabriel exclaimed, astonished and horrified. "That's impossible!"

"Angels can't get pregnant, Adam," Jophiel reiterated, but he heard her doubts.

"Well, it's fucking possible because it's happening!"

Finally, Sera spoke. 

"Nothing is happening."

Strained, fighting to remain composed and in control. She didn't want to accept this was happening, but it was. All they could do now was act.

One way or another, this baby, or whatever it was, was coming out. 

"Gabe, hold her. Jo, keep her stable. Full offence, neither of you has ever delivered a baby before."

"There's never been a seraphim birth - how will you know what to do?" Jophiel asked, working with Gabriel to get the uncooperative Sera to the floor. 

"I did the animals, too - should've phrased that better - if I can deliver a fucking mammoth, I can do this." 

He missed those gigantic elephants. A herd would migrate near the settlement every year and they started getting familiar with the individuals, though at a cautious distance. At one point when Seth was only two, the matriarch - Maria - was stuck in labour.

Because he's a lunatic, and Eve had a heart of pure gold, they helped. It was a difficult task, particularly with the rest of the herd - they didn't understand that they were trying to help. They unlodged the babe and out it came, a little boy that Eve named Sticky. 

He only got to see Sticky seven times before he died. It was interesting to watch the calf growing, even if he didn't see the little guy become an adult. 

Sera reminded him more of an agitated cave bear. 

"Get off me!" the woman yelled, refusing to accept the situation.

He didn't blame her. It was scary as fuck when Eve suddenly went into labour. Looking back on it now, their reactions were a little comical, but at the time, they were terrified. 

"It's gonna suck a whole lot more if we do," he snarked, analysing the gold and fluid-soaked robes.

How far along was she? It can't have just started.

The best position is on the hands and knees, squatting or kneeling - it's best to work alongside gravity, not against it. They learned that after Eve struggled when they tried it on her back; it was easier for Adam, but a lot more work for her. 

Repeating as such to a freaked-out Gabriel was almost amusing, watching as he pulled his friend into an embrace for her to lean on him as Jo supported her back.

Kneeling it is.

Depending on how far along she is, they might be able to move her somewhere far more comfortable than this shitty meeting room.

Although awkward, it's necessary to remove - or at least lift - the clothing for easier access to the incoming surprise of a lifetime. He's a manwhore, he can admit that, but he'd sooner stick his dick in a hill of fire ants than think of Sera intimately.

Now he can look at what's happening, moving her isn't an option. The head was already crowning.

She must've started labour yesterday.

With her composure and concentration broken, the seraphim was yelling in pain and fear. At least with Eve, she knew what was happening - eventually, anyway.

"Sera, you need to push," the first man commanded. 

Get the head first, then the shoulders and the rest follows afterwards. It got easier with each child Eve had. Neither of them enjoyed the placenta bit, though. 

"I need to work!" she shouted, fuming with anger and terror. She pushed unintentionally, crying from the strain. "Make it stop!"

"You're doing amazingly," Jophiel complimented, rubbing Sera's back. Unwisely, Jophiel tried to catch a peak. "It's happening?"

"Nothing's happening!"

"I thought labour is longer?" Gabriel questioned, confused.

"Yeah, well, she must've started yesterday or this morning - keep pushing, Sera, and it'll be over sooner than you can threaten to clip me."

"I'll rip your fucking wings off!"

"Gotta get this baby out before then. What're you going to do, waddle at me?"

The angrier she got, the more she unintentionally pushed. It gave her something to distract her from the sudden situation, too. Why be afraid of a mystery pregnancy when you can yell at the scapegoat of heaven?

Nobody can push buttons like he can. If it made this any easier to cope with, so be it. 

Finally, the head was out. Soon enough, the shoulders made their way through, and it only took two more pushes for the babe to fall from the unsuspecting new mother. While he focused on the baby, Jophiel could help with the placenta.

With the baby out, they can lay Sera on her back, trying to soothe her distress and shock. 

Gabriel leaned over, looking at the tiny form as Adam wiped fluid and blood from the baby's face; he had to remove the amniotic fluid from the mouth to avoid choking or inhaling it. They learned that mistake after Cain got sick from it.

He would've dropped it if he weren't ingrained with such a strong instinct and learned muscle memory after being a father for so long.

The face... the markings around its eyes...

They haunted him and every other poor victim that ever met his evil. 

He didn't like Sera, but he knew she wouldn't with something as heinous as that beast. She hated him almost as much as Adam did. But then-

That son of a bitch. That evil, twisted motherfucking dirt bag...

No wonder she didn't want to acknowledge it was happening.

Adam acted quickly, altering the infant's appearance before Jophiel could see it. It was more for his sanity than anything else. He couldn't bear to see that monster again, even in the features of a baby.

It cried, little legs kicking against his hands.

"Holy pigshit, what happened here!?" Phounebiel shouted, sprinting to join Jophiel in caring for the delirious seraph. He saw the wriggling thing in Adam's bloodied arms. "What-"

"We don't know either," Gabriel said quickly, but Adam knew better. 

Gabriel had his tells, even if the divine brunet wouldn't admit it. 

"Get it to Temeluch - we'll take care of Sera," Jophiel urged, forming a portal beside them. "Go!"

Shakily, Gabriel's hand graced Adam's shoulder, encouraging him to go through. The past few minutes put him into shock and confusion.

How the fuck did this happen? How was it even possible?

When the portal shut behind them, they were in the ward where babes and children who perished long before their time resided. It was Temeluch's duty to oversee and care for them. 

The unofficial leader of Heaven stopped the first man, making nervous eye contact.

"You saw it as well," Gabriel said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's his."

How couldn't he?

The little thing in his arms squirmed, flexing their featherless wings against him. It's so small, much like how his babies were, albeit not grey with spots and wings. 

Biting his lip, Adam removed the quickly applied glamour. The little babe had his markings. It was disgusting to see, to remember who they came from.

Beyond that, however...

It was almost a copy of Sera. The eyes reminded him of God's, but blue. 

"If anyone discovers this... what little sense of order we've forged will be undone," Gabriel stated, afraid. "There will be riots. So many want vengeance, and more than most of them deserve that right."

There was an obvious implication. Something that they could do to prevent word spreading or anyone ever knowing. 

It wasn't like children and babies hadn't died in the war. The youth and elderly were the majority of civilian casualties, most were caused by Metatron's followers, but not all. There was more than enough blame on their side, too. 

When blood spills, it cares not whose hands it stained. 

But the war is over. 

Metatron was banished, forced to suffer a mortal cage in the world he despised. There was always the worry of him returning, but he'd never be in full power again. He got crippled by Gadreel. 

What crimes had a baby done? It had no place in their conflicts, its only connection was who sired it. It hadn't caused or inflicted misery upon any, except Sera in the event of its birth, but that's how it went with all births. 

Adam had seen plenty before. He's delivered all of his kids. He recognised that Sera didn't know what was happening; she likely didn't know she was pregnant.

Any pain caused was unintentional. 

"We need to do something," Gabriel urged, desperate for a solution.

He could see it. Although the surest way to avoid infighting and distress would be quick, Gabriel wanted another way. Something that didn't entail the demise of an innocent soul.

Blood doesn't determine one's fate. 

Adam gently nestled the baby in the crook of his arm, hovering his now free hand over her eyes. 

Understanding his plan, Gabriel followed, placing an alabaster pale hand upon his. Combining their divine power, they disfigured the baby, pulling the pigment from around its eyes. 

They're taking away the primary evidence of its paternity. No one could know.

Once their hands retracted, those eyes were open, meeting Adam's. He didn't see a drop of malice, indifference or cruelty in those pools of innocence.

A toothless mouth opened, making a little squeak as an uncoordinated hand reached for him. Unable to resist, he let it grab his finger, squeezing with a sound comparable to a giggle. 

"Ah! There you two are!" Temeluch smiled, her motherly gaze meeting the newborn. "And who might this be?"

"Sera had it," Gabriel answered, his fear masked by confusion. "We don't understand how," he lied.

"Her," Adam corrected. "She's a girl."

The fear of something resembling Metatron pushed him to dehumanise the little girl. That was no fault of hers, though. She had no part to play in the orchestra of his evil.

Another victim of his cruelty.

"I didn't even know we could?" Temeluch said, confused. "What a beautiful little girl," she complimented, gently touching the babe's cheek. "She seems to like you."

Dear Temeluch had no idea how ironic that was.

"You can take care of her?" the first man asked, his damned instincts demanding that he protect the vulnerable baby. 

"I will. I'll keep her well cared for until Sera can retrieve her."

There was a decent chance that she wouldn't. 

It felt horrible to pass the infant to Temeluch, watching as those little eyes wouldn't leave him. 

He couldn't imagine how Sera must feel.

And like that, Emily was born.

Only he, Sera, Gabriel and Kushiel knew the truth, the latter mocking them with that fact for aeons. How he knew, they didn't have a clue.

It was a surprise when Sera decided to keep her. It was even more shocking when she requested he assist her. She barely liked humans and had a low opinion of their "spawn", so she knew nothing of a baby. 

Teaching Sera how to change a diaper was equally the funniest and most horrifying experience of his existence. Her only argument was that he had six kids; he was numb to it.

He wasn't at first, though. He and Eve had no idea what they were doing. It was a miracle their first didn't die. 

He'd also assisted with Damian. Humorously, Sera adapted quicker to it than Lily did. His sister would rather push that duty onto Mammon, Luci or Beelzebub. 

It's only a bit of poop. Get a wipe, clean it off and put a new diaper on; it shouldn't take longer than a minute, even for a wiggler like Emily. 

At least Emily never tried finger painting with her crap. Oh, how Cain created "art" in their home. 

Kids. They're simultaneously a nightmare and the best part of your existence. There were days he wanted to strangle them, but they were few compared to the good times. 

He wanted Emily to have a good life. She's a good kid, better than all of them. As much as he hated lying to her, he understood Sera's apprehension.

She deserved to know - she would find out eventually, and it should be from her mom. However, he knew that knowing the truth would shatter her. 

He loved her too much.

Adam returned the mysterious gift to the axe he wished he never made. With a wave of his hand, it was gone, trapped until he summoned it again. 

Maybe he'll give it to Emily someday. She was more deserving of such a piece of holiness than he ever was. 

How else would Adam know if redemption was impossible if someone like him was offered such a thing?

He didn't deserve that. He never would. 

Like how he couldn't be the dad that Emily wanted...

"No one can know," Sera said, her tired eyes fixated on the window of her abode. 

Before Emily, it was barren and depressing. As that is unfit for a baby, there are several patches of colour from toys, baby equipment, etc. At least she has these; Adam would've loved to have a high chair when he raised his babies.

The tiny girl was five months old now. Well, comparable to a five-month-old. She aged far slower than humans did. 

"You say that daily," Adam shrugged, chewing on his cookie. "Fuck me, Naya'il is getting good at these."

"Do not use foul language around Emily."

"I'll suggest something better - get off my back, yeah?"

"I loathe that I rely upon you."

"Love you too, bitch." 

That's the thing with Sera. If he acted super nice and supportive, she would shut down and reject any assistance he provided. She hated the mere concept of her needing help more than him. 

He almost admired it, the sheer determination to be solitary. On the other hand, he knew the burdens of taking so much responsibility alone; that blood never washes from your hands. 

She yearned for normalcy, something to distract her from Metatron's imprisonment camp where Emily was conceived. Even though they were all irreparably changed, he understood the desire to have the peace and structure of before, regardless of the corruption.

Back when they had God's guidance.

The seraph turned to him, drained and ragged from the sleepless nights. Not from Emily - that baby slept like the dead - it's the terrors; it was the memories of the war. The things that they did, and what they endured... kept most of them awake at the late hours.

"I cannot fathom how Eve had six," Sera stated.

Perhaps her tiredness forced a moment of vulnerability?

"She wasn't alone," Adam said, observing how the statement affected her. "Nobody can do this completely alone, Sera. None. Not even God. We all need someone, even if we wish more than anything that we didn't." 

"I must. I will not allow her to become... like him."

"He was broken from the start; deep down, even God knew that. Emily isn't like him at all. She can smile without looking like she wants to wear your skin for one." 

"That is not encouraging."

"You're scared of others finding out."

"Of course, I am. The more I allow, the likelihood of discovering the paternity increases. That is intolerable. I'm already hounded enough with inquiries on her parentage."

He was aware of that. It was unavoidable. She was the first angel to birth a child, seemingly out of nowhere.

There was a small rumour started by the mouthy Deerie that Adam was the father. Why not? He's had sex with a majority of women in Heaven, angels included. One of the few he hasn't was Sera, but they didn't know that.

For once, that cherub's gossiping could make things easier for the two. While Sera won't get those questions, Emily's paternity wouldn't have suspicions. Any weirdness about her could be attributed to being Adam's kid, as he was the oddest out of the new hierarchy.

"I'm a whore - proud of it - just say I'm the dad or whatever."

"Your child is the first murderer. What makes you better from the truth?"

She regretted her words, and while he knew that, it didn't make it sting any less. 

The slander about Cain was something he was used to; he would correct people every time because Cain didn't deserve damnation for an accident. Even God proclaimed that any who hurt Cain would be repaid with misfortune sevenfold. 

His son wasn't a murderer.

"I'm equal to Metatron, am I?"

"That is not what I meant."

"Isn't it? Somehow, I'm comparable or worse than the truth, even though I'm the one that's helping you. I don't have to do this - I don't have to give a single shit about you or that baby. But I do. Even when you make it difficult." 

"If it is so difficult, why don't you leave?"

"Because you need something - someone - to direct your anger. The injustice of what he did, the unfairness and cruelty - you need someone you don't have to explain it to. I know better than anyone what it feels like to be his plaything and be unable to cope with reliving it."

"You don't," she hissed, angered by his verbal strike past her defences.

"I do."

He knew a devastating secret. He would share one in kind, though the only casualty would be him. 

Everyone needs a scapegoat. 

Those two words - those three letters - were the closest he'd ever come to saying it. It's easier to pretend it didn't happen at all. The drink and drugs aided in that farce.

If he were high enough where he couldn't feel his face, he wouldn't be haunted by that evil, apathetic, morbidly curious monster. The beast that saw someone do something and then did the same to him to "understand", only to get frustrated when he couldn't.

It never lasted, though. Even sex, where he had control, wasn't enough. 

The implications quieted the anger in the exhausted woman, now replaced with empathy. It was the first time he'd seen it from her since meeting her at where those gates now stood.

"She deserves better than us," the seraph said, quiet and solemn. "Dull sunlight and tainted rain raising a rose..."

"She's already better. She isn't damaged and broken."

"All the more reason to assure others that there is no father. It is like the mourning gecko - parthenogenesis. I made her myself."

"You aren't a lizard."

"But I am a seraph. That should mean something, shouldn't it?"

"It already does." 

"It did once. But that died alongside the Lord. We are an orchestra without a conductor, a kite with no wind to sail upon. Directionless. What good is a watcher who is blind?"

"Wherever you go and you feel blind, reach out your hand, and let someone guide you to the light - God said that to me once. No matter how much you despise it, you can't do this alone. Take my hand."

"So long as you do not tell her of her parentage."

"That's a deal I'll have to live with."

How couldn't he get attached to the embodiment of sunshine? He adored her. He loved her like she was his.

But Sera made it clear. He was only "Addie" to her, an uncle at best. 

Selfishly, he wanted more.

Angel Dust wiped the last of the blood from his brother's fur.

"That's the last of it," Husk said, finishing the stitches. "He'll be out for a while."

"Ooh! Is he a bad boy?" Niffty grinned, skittering up Husk's back like a goblin.

Husk shrugged her off as he put the equipment Lucifer provided away. 

Where Alastor fucked off to, they had no idea. He was carrying an orb similar to what Angel saw Molly through as he left. Did Adam show Smiles someone he cared about who's in Heaven? Probably, but only if it was in a deal.

It seemed like Emily unbothered, though. She was more interested in helping Arackniss, as were the others.

Not Niffty, though. She's creepy.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Angel," Charlie said, trying to be supportive.

"Yeah. Arackniss. Ain't seen him in a while," Angel said, stroking his hurt brother's hair. "I dunno why pops would do this to him. He was the favourite!"

"Maybe he got sick of your dingo shit geezer treatin' him like crap?" Cherri suggested, which was possible. "He'll be safe here, at least."

"He's gonna need a big room - Ari's claustrophobic," he added, remembering why.

"You'll stay in there until you stop being a pussy!" Henry shouted, banging his fist on the wooden door as Giacomo sobbed, begging to be let out of the box.

Anthony and Molly could only watch as their father mocked their elder brother's plight. They were afraid, remaining still and silent.

They were no older than six, staring at their future of abuse and mistreatment at the hands of those who should've protected them. 

Anthony was upset, wanting to help. He didn't like hearing his big brother cry. 

"You better stay there," warned a female voice.

Giovanna. Their eldest sibling. 

The one that Giacomo tried to protect them from. The mean sister that got in trouble with the big police people and made their ma cry.

She never called her mummy; she called her Cecilia. It felt wrong.

"But Gia's sad!" Molly whimpered, flinching as Henry kicked at the box again.

"That's what he gets for not listening. You better be good little faggot pussies and do as you're told," Giovanna sneered, glaring at Molly in particular. "I can smell the dyke on you. Dad should've left you to the dogs or a whore house."

"Leave my sis alone!" Anthony growled, trying to protect his twin from the meanie.

Giovanna grabbed his cheeks hard enough to bruise, forcing eye contact.

"You're nothing, Tony, and I'll prove it to you," she said, lighting a match and sticking it in his left eye.

He hated closed spaces.

"The room across from me is big," Pentious offered. His weird eggs watched them from Husk's bar. "I would've taken it, but mine has better heating - y'know, cold-blooded and all."

"I'll crash with Ari. Make sure he's alright," Cherri offered, although Angel Dust wasn't sure.

His brother isn't approachable or friendly, even to himself.

"It's best that I stay with him. He knows me."

"Luckily for you, he won't be doing much for a few days," Husk said, his tail lightly patting Angel Dust's leg reassuringly.

It's the little things with Husk. He supported Angel in small ways, but they mattered deeply to him.

"Tough tits, mate. I'm staying with him and you, Angie!"

"We won't be far if you need us," Vaggie said, looking like she'd cried a marathon.

What happened while he was gone?

"Yeah, and Addie will keep him safe," Emily said confidently, her wings spread like a promise. 

He believed that. After all, Adam kept him safe so far.

The thought of that snake woman crept into his mind. The promise of freedom. It'd let Angel go after Henroin for nearly killing his brother again.

Next time, Angel would have to take that deal and get revenge. For his brother, his sister, his ma and everyone else his sperm donor hurt!

Dear Rosie, his beloved friend.

"What is it you needed of me?" Alastor asked, tilting his head slightly.

His platonic soulmate and best friend was grinning erratically, excited. 

"I've done it, doll!" Rosie cheered, ecstatic. "I know I said I was done, but I used the last of it on the last test - I've done it this time, though! Finally!"

Rosie wanted to be a mother for longer than Alastor's great-grandfather's grandfather had been born. As a sinner, she couldn't traditionally have them. Therefore, she would do as her father did and use the loophole; she would use soul essence to create new life.

However, she was but a child when she perished, so she didn't know the intricacies of how Adam did it. 

Alastor sighed and silently accepted, happy for her. She's wanted this for aeons. What friend would deny another such a momentous occasion?

The woman practically skipped into the back of her shop, shaking with glee. It was adorable. 

He trailed behind her, nabbing a pickled pinky finger on the way. In her workshop and butchery was a wide range of creations, some of which belonged to Seth and his devious mind. As much as Alastor was creeped out by the youngest of the Margolis family, he could respect Seth's innovation.

On one of her workbenches was a duo of dolls carefully crafted over the aeons - Addison and Evelyn. They were named after her parents.

They had the bare minimum in decor and distinction; Rosie said that individual traits and features would appear once the bonding process was complete. 

"I understand that Addison is a unisex name, but if Evelyn displays as male?"

"Evan."

"You've thought of everything, my dear."

"I've only been trying for centuries! Come along - we have babies to make!"

"I'd prefer it if it wasn't worded that way."

"This isn't what we're doing?"

"Hmm. Touche, cher."

This part was going to be awful. He hated it last time.

Rosie pulled energy to the tips of her fingers as her claws grew, excitement burning in her solid black eyes. Although she tried to make it less painful than last time, it didn't do much.

Having a sliver of your soul pulled is agonising. It would heal - his essence was unharmed. However, it still hurt something fierce. 

Slowly, a thread of black with white spots left his chest. It wasn't any better than before, but it would be the final time. Hopefully.

She plucked a strand from her chest and weaved the two together, strengthening and stabilising them - it was something like that. He didn't truly understand it.

With confidence fuelled by fear and excitement, Rosie snapped it in two, quickly placing the writhing ends into both doll chests. It took a few moments, but the wriggling strings of essence slithered into their new home. 

It was eerie and creepy but in an entertaining way. 

That's further than he'd seen this go before; often, it blew up in her face, not that it stopped her. She was a tough gal.

"What now?" he questioned.

"Hope for the best!" she answered, clenching her fists eagerly.

His mother would call this a "prayer" moment. 

They watched as light flickered in their chests, life beginning to take hold. 

Energy swarmed the bodies, a fusion of Rosie's red magic and Alastor's vivid green. That made sense since he donated a piece of himself to fulfil his best friend's aspirations. After all, she supported him as he climbed to the top. 

As the essence of the two combined and simmered, the forms became living, breathing babies. From appearances, he'd put them at four months or so old. 

Evelyn had her mother's black sclera but Eve's purple irises. She had curly brown hair that turned grey at the end. She had Alastor's antlers, which were a cedar brown instead of black. She had freckles over her nose, almost identical to Rosie's cute button. 

Addison had Alastor's red hair, though it was far curlier. He had bright green eyes like pieces of polished jade, a more pronounced nose than Evelyn and a pair of horns like Seth's. His skin was patchy - vitiligo, Rosie called it. 

They're visibly appeasing spawns, and from Rosie's tear-filled eyes, she agreed. She pulled them into her embrace, hugging them and kissing their little heads. 

She's happy. Overjoyed. That's all he wanted out of this little venture.

Rosie went far and beyond for him, especially when she didn't need to. She never turned her back on him or mocked him for his duel heritage. She didn't judge why he became a murderer, or what motivated him to be good at what he did. 

Beyond his mother, she was someone he could trust and rely on. It wasn't a little deal or a facade.

He didn't have to wear his smiley mask around her. If tired, he could show it and not fear it turning on him. She was safe. 

Alastor hasn't had a safe person since his mother.

With a flick of his wrist, he asked the shadows to provide a gift for Rosie's growing family - a simple cot, something they could be in temporarily. He suspected that she didn't expect both to work. 

"They're perfect," Rosie said, a tremble in her beautiful voice as she kissed them again. "Hiya. I'm your ma," she smiled, proud to finally say it. 

"I'm not babysitting."

"I got ma, Zesty and Nubia for that, silly!" she waved off, knowing he didn't mean it in a malicious sense. He liked how she excluded Seth, Anāq and Azura, too. "And hopefully, your grandpa will, too!"

Right. Him.

How was he going to react to all of this? To Rosie being herself? 

Heaven doesn't seem accepting or friendly. Were they tolerant of trans folk?

That is the correct terminology. Right? She educated him on these things a while ago, but things changed. He had to learn that "coloured" wasn't accepted anymore. That felt less insulting and racist than that angel calling him mixed. 

That fucker deserved a glass bottle to the eyeball. 

On the other hand, he liked pretending not to know around Angel Dust to irritate him. 

"Why those names?"

"I named them after my parents. Little Addison is after my dad, and Evelyn is for my mother."

Sweet. 

If Alastor ever had a child, he'd name them after his mother. If he could choose, he'd prefer a daughter. He liked the company of women more than men.

"Well, if I ever desire to forge a spawn, I know who to come to!"

"I could start a business from this y'know. I'm sure many would sell their souls to have kids with their partners."

She's right. It would be a brilliant opportunity to exploit.

"How about after you've settled with these little darlings?"

"Of course," she nodded, kissing the babies' heads as she placed them in the cot. "Aww, she has your antlers!"

"And your teeth, cher."

"That's my girl! You'll be a little ravager just like your mama!"

He hoped so. Two Rosie's was better than one. 

There was a knock at the door. His ears flicked, uncertain of who it could be. 

For a moment, Rosie looked to be changing into her full form. However, that ceased as she remembered something. Wearing a grin, the taller woman opened the door.

Standing in Rosie's shop was a brown minotaur with pale patches and violet eyes with locs trailing down her back like vines from a mangrove. She wore leather, ripped jeans that were scuffed around her hooves and a jingling bracelet around her tail.

Of all the times she had to visit.

She was Melora, as most knew her. A member of a little band named Bad Apple; it's a terrible pun. It was almost as awful as Nubia naming her bar the "Daughter of Eden". 

"Ma!" Rosie cheered, hugging Eve.

The first woman, the mother of his best friend and former wife of the most dangerous being in Hell. He could see several similarities in this peculiar family; they were a match made in Hell, which is a compliment in his opinion.

She nuzzled into her daughter with a smile. She was roughly the same height as her, only taller due to her bovine horns. 

It's no shock that Eve and Adam were married; she was a rocker, too. As much as he preferred jazz, he wouldn't deny that there was talent in how the two strung guitars. 

"I've been meaning to stop by, my dove!" Eve sighed, her bovine ears flicking and making her numerous earrings jingle. "Ah! Hello, Alastor! How is my little son-in-law?"

"We're not married, ma," Rosie corrected, rolling her eyes. "Well, we are, but just for taxes. They're murder!"

They did. He forgot about that sometimes, but the tax loophole was too good to pass up. It saved a lot of money for them.

Even in Hell, taxes persisted. It wasn't even Lucifer that collected on them, it was that obnoxious green clown!

"Indeed. And for the cake. Susan bakes well enough to earn her pestilent presence," Alastor continued.

"Pollutant attitude having ornery old bitch," Rosie huffed, nodding furiously.

Eve waved them off, taking notice of the cot that Alastor hastily "formed". She looked inside and squealed, her tail shooting straight with glee at Addison and Evelyn's confused faces.

She lifted them with expertise gained after mothering six children, tears falling down her furry cheeks in amazement at the babes. 

"You did it!" Eve said, amazed at Rosie's accomplishment. "You did it - they're beautiful!"

Addison started chewing on his grandmother's band shirt, likely hungry. Meanwhile, little Evelyn was distracted by Eve's multiple shiny piercings. 

"Ma, meet Addison and Evelyn," she said, pride booming. "I named them after you guys. Y'know, since dad's in Hell and everything."

Eve paused and stared at her daughter.

Oh. She probably wasn't supposed to say that, was she?

Too late.

"Yes! Heaven seems to have taken pity on Charlotte's little delusion and has sent a darling angel girl as an ambassador - Adam was chosen to be her guard. It's been two days and he's already glassed a fellow!"

A vile one at that.

"Adam's here? He's here!?" Eve panted, beginning to hyperventilate. 

Rosie took the babies back, quickly handing them to Alastor as she consoled her mother. 

The little spawns were now fixated on Alastor. The boy was tugging at his monocle, while Evelyn attempted to tug on his ears. If they weren't Rosie's, he'd drop them.

He wouldn't really, but he wanted to.

"Sorry, ma. Cain said not to tell you and I kinda forgot," she said, rubbing her mother's back. "Zesty's scared for us, that's all."

"I need to see him!"

"Ma, we will-"

"Baby girl, the last time I saw your father, he was crushed under a tree after saving your brothers - I never got to say goodbye. We fought after Seth ran off - I never... I didn't get the chance to say I'm sorry. I don't care if he's a blue horse in an internet weirdo's jar; I'm seeing him!"

So, that was how the first man died. He saved his kids. 

With how he treated Emily, not too much had changed. 

Even after aeons - years longer than Alastor could ever fathom - the genuine love was as strong as ever. Perhaps not the same as before, but she cared. She wanted to apologise for some fight that didn't matter.

He's glad that he doesn't experience love like that. It's complicated and confusing, although occasionally admirable. 

It's better from a bystander's point of view, he felt.

"We'll see him, ma. I want to, too. We can get our family together."

"More than that," Alastor added, intriguing them as Addison tried to shove his hand in Alastor's mouth. "The angel girl, Emily, desires to be adopted by Adam." 

"That's dad, always pickin' up strays. Remember Boots? He loved that damn dog," Rosie said, remembering fondly. "I'm gettin' a new sister! Finally, Seth won't be so mopey about being the youngest."

That's certainly an improvement.

"We'll be there," Eve vowed, her and Rosie taking a babe from his now spit-soaked suit.

They're fortunate that they're Rosie's.

"Though I don't know the subject well, I've noted several long looks from Lucifer," he continued.

"I knew it!" Eve cackled, keeping Addison against her jacket. "I knew Luci had a crush on him! Finally, I can get those two together!"

"Matchmakin' already, ma?"

"You should've seen them in Eden, my sweet girl. Luci fell for the first man before the first woman swooped him off his feet! Now Lilith fucked off, it's meddlin' time."

He will play no part in this game.

It'll be fun to watch, though.

Chapter Text

Carmilla didn't rise to the top and exist this long by being a fool. There are many variables when it comes to being an arms dealer. The cycle of vengeance is a wheel that never stops turning, regardless of how hard she tries. 

So much went wrong under Escobar. Initially, she thought he was admirable, a smuggler merely providing what the people wanted. But then he began meddling with the drug trade. She watched as a man she once considered a friend became a monster. 

She could've stopped him before it collapsed, but she hadn't. It's one of her many regrets from the living world. Her beautiful country was stricken with her former friend's greed and ambition. 

Carmilla died trying to right that wrong. She was considerably unkind when that bastard finally descended. He didn't make it past his first extermination.

As soon as she learned the head exorcist's identity, she thought that would be the worst. However, her partner, the first man she'd allowed into her heart in decades, was the son of the man she'd scorned. 

She didn't blame Zestial for hiding such monumental information. He wouldn't have told her if Adam hadn't arrived in Hell and was sticking around. While Alastor explained, she didn't trust him.

Did Alastor know about Zestial and Rosie? He had to. He and Rosie were married, even if it was to escape egregious taxes. They were inseparable.

Part of her was saddened that Alastor could've known before her, but there was no use in wallowing. She knows the truth. 

Her partner provided a choice - leave or stay. As always, Zestial was a good man, considering her feelings. He didn't want a bombshell to drop on her; he was a real man, telling her himself. 

Carmilla's halls had seemed strange. She'd gotten unsettled by it. Nothing looked different, but she'd tasted the difference in the air.

She should've realised something was off sooner. She should've noticed that her office door was unlocked. 

The cause was in her office, making direct eye contact with her. 

It was only a matter of time until the head exorcist discovered her deepest regret. As much as Carmilla needed to protect her daughters, she knew it would be a matter of time before an avenger would arrive.

She had never seen him up close, but he was bigger than Zestial, and that man was twelve feet tall. She already knew he was somewhat chunky, but that added to the intimidation - he isn't built for looks, that's solid strength under the punk rock outfit.

That wasn't the only intimidating factor. Not even his thick, bulky tail. 

The heads of several employees littered her office, covering almost every surface; their faces were forever frozen with fear or surprise. The cuts were clean and precise, a testament to aeons of practice.

She wondered how the titan was sitting at her desk. His wingspan was wider than she was tall. 

"I would've come earlier, but I had to make sure the kid was asleep," the leading exorcist said, cold and detached. His tone was like a blizzard. "She told me something. Wanna take a guess?"

"I know why you are here."

Carmilla was informed that Adam was a girl angel's bodyguard. How did the kid discover Carmilla's horrid mistake?

Somehow, Alastor was involved. 

"Where is it?" the first man commanded, yet to raise his voice or move.

The restraint is concerning. Given how quickly he dispatched several of her people with seemingly little effort, a fight wouldn't go in her favour. It was a miracle that she even succeeded against that exorcist at all.

"I put it in a safe so no one would touch it," Carmilla answered, looking over the faces of people she once knew. "It wasn't my intention to kill them."

"A beheading is pretty fucking intentional," the angel growled. 

How could Carmilla explain that she acted without thinking, desperate to protect her girls? She didn't believe she'd actually kill the exorcist or even wound it - she just had to make sure Odette and Clara escaped.

The overlord stepped over several heads, making her way to a picture on her wall. Delicately, she removed it, finding it somewhat ironic that the man who painted it was the son of who would likely kill her.

She knew the code off by heart. It was the date she met her darling girls, two sisters who died in a horrid house fire. They were only eleven and thirteen, mere children. 

In life, Carmilla wasn't able to have children. Barren, they called her. A vile insult she repaid with blood. 

But when she saw them, she knew she was their mother now. She took them in and raised them into the amazing young women they are now. She was so proud of them, but she'd never forget the children in grown bodies huddled for warmth and safety. 

Carmilla didn't know what it was like to lose a child. However, she got very close when the exorcists surrounded them.

Carefully, Carmilla removed the head from the safe. 

"I didn't know," Carmilla said, looking at the impossible. "I didn't know exorcists could die."

She brought it to the desk, gold blood glued to her skin. No matter what, it just wouldn't stop bleeding. 

The stoicism briefly shifted to something more recognisable, a flash of grief. 

It was quickly overshadowed by anger. 

"Tienes un minuto."

What?

Carmilla quickly analysed the statement. She had one minute. It was simple enough to decipher what the head exorcist was saying. 

She wasn't going to waste any time. She's managed to hide from exorcists before, but never their leader. 

When threatened with extermination, a minute can feel like years. It's so little time, but you must make the most of it. 

She knew this building. She created the blueprints for it. In the event of an exorcist invasion, she had several tunnels and hideaways. Weapons were everywhere. 

As the Overlord ran, she grabbed an angelic spear. She jumped towards the ceiling, a motion sensor automatically opening for her. However, it wouldn't open for a holy being. 

It's unlikely that'll stop him, but it'll give her time. She can get out of the building and go from there - she can use the sewer systems if needed. While the end was inevitable, he wanted a chase and she'd give him one. 

Make no sounds. Step carefully. She'd remove her shoes to increase her stealth if not for the fact they're also weapons. 

A distant whistle sent shivers down her spine.

"Time's up, puta!" cackled a deep and angry voice, rolling through her veins and into her hammering heart. 

Keep moving. So long as he doesn't know where she is or where she's going, she won't get erased. 

Carefully, Carmilla climbed down a level, getting closer to the ground floor. She paused, hearing something. 

He couldn't have gotten here so fast.

She inched towards an air vent, looking through it. 

"Miss Carmine?" called a nasily voice. It wasn't the man she was running from.

An imp called Calvin looked around, confused. He was one of her accountants, a decent guy who did his job. 

The poor thing tried the lights, but they wouldn't turn on.

She looked up, seeing that the bulbs were trying to activate, but something stopped them. Eventually, they blew, glass raining on the floor.

"Oh, crumbs!" Calvin yelped, startled. "Miss Carmine's going to be furious!"

She would be if she weren't probably going to die tonight.

The poor thing tried to sweep it all up, cutting his little hands. It was a little sweet how hard he worked to make her home look clean, regardless of futility. 

There was a movement that didn't belong. It wasn't Calvin or another employee.

She caught the briefest silhouette of a giant tail slipping away. She'd seen it just a few minutes before.

How did he get down here so fast? And so quietly!

As Calvin worked obliviously, Carmilla could see the angel in the shadows - he could turn off his glow. That was as much of a surprise as it was concerning.

She watched the giant shape inch closer to the unaware Calvin, making so little noise for a titan. That came with practice. How many times had the exorcist done this? Stalking his prey like a tiger to a hamster. 

Calvin must've realised something was off. He was looking around, confused. 

In the pitch black, Adam remained still, cloaked in the darkness. He was invisible to Calvin, watching the oblivious imp who had no idea of the danger he was in.

Eyes glitched into existence, startling Calvin. The imp fell onto his tail, scared. The silhouette of Adam became more visible thanks to his eyes, making Calvin whimper. 

Hulking, titanic, obscured in darkness except for those wrathful golden eyes. His wings lit up, spreading like a flaming flashover. 

Calvin screamed, a sound of pure terror. He wet his pants, shaking in absolute horror at what hovered over him. 

But Adam didn't look at Calvin. His eyes met hers, sneering at her.

He knew she was there the entire time.

She could see where Zestial got his theatrics from.

Maintaining eye contact, the first man lifted poor Calvin by his throat. The imp was barely four feet tall, so being lifted to three times his height scared him even more. 

The poor thing saw her, attempting to plead but couldn't; Adam's grip was too tight. The imp clawed at the gloved hand, beginning to need to fight for air, his eyes going bloodshot. 

Carmilla watched as the grip slowly tightened. She saw as the body dropped, detached from the head. For a few seconds, Calvin's head continued trying to breathe. 

It's a display.

That exorcist didn't die immediately. For a few moments, it had felt beheading and death. 

He wanted her to feel the terror the exorcist probably did. He wanted her to hurt as it had. 

"You should've left the spear, Malparida," he snarled, purposefully using a Columbian insult - how did he know? "My girls leave little signatures in every spear they make - you might as well have just done fuck all." 

Her hands shook. 

Is that how he knew where Carmilla lived? 

She never considered that the exorcists could feel where the angelic steel was. He barely had to try, merely following the beacon in her hands. 

That's bullshit!

It's as bullshit as him somehow knowing she was Columbian. 

With a grin, the angel turned. She didn't know what he was doing until his tail shattered the solid concrete like wet paper. It collided with her, cracking her ribs and rupturing one of her kidneys on impact. 

Air was snatched from her bruised lungs, startled by the amount of power he was holding back. She felt how the full force of that attack was restrained from its true might. 

Blood flowed from her mouth and nose like a waterfall, pain and shock overwhelming her.

The walls creaked and groaned, concrete crumbling from beneath her. Eerily casual, the angel merely tapped the damaged flooring with his boot, like a child would with their first experience on ice, causing it to collapse. 

He watched her fall, landing in one of the refined metal storage rooms. It was hard against her already aching body, but it didn't matter. She had to keep moving.

Carmilla rolled onto her side, then her wobbly feet. She watched the angel drop, not even using his wings to soften the landing. The angelic steel bent under him. Somehow, that was more frightening than the severed heads, the thing with Calvin and his tail striking her.

Taunting her, the head exorcist opened his hand and repeatedly brought his fingers to his palm. He wanted her to attack him. 

If angelic steel can harm an exorcist, she could get a lucky hit against the head honcho.

Regardless of her injuries, she was going to give it a go. 

It's impossible, but Carmilla would try anyway; anything for her loved ones. 

Carmilla pounced, aiming to strike the angel in the face. However, he backhanded the spear and punched her through another wall. She rolled to her feet again, brushing off dust and debris as he followed her.

"I'm disappointed, Alba Dolores García Dávalos," he spat, using her full name. 

How does he know that? How?

"How do you know my name?" she asked, tired from his toying with her.

"It's password rules, bitch - don't use your mother's name and the name of your pet," he mocked, twirling the spear in his hand as he had that pencil earlier. 

Carmilla was her mother's name, and Carmine was the name of her first part horse, a gelding she adored. 

That's all it took for him to figure it out. 

Did that mean her mother was in Heaven? Was her nephew up there?

She knew her sister never would've made it up there, the bitch.

"How dare someone as weak as you kill my Reagan?" he hissed, slamming his wings against nothingness.

The force of air blew Carmilla off her feet. She was pushed through a door, sending her into her ballroom. 

He was still toying with her, making her suffer for killing... Reagan? That was such an ordinary name.

And the use of "my". It's so much more personal than she thought. How close were they?

A piece of her warned that he'd do this regardless of what exorcist she slew. 

Did he adopt her like Carmilla did with Odette and Clara? She hoped not. 

Carmilla stood again, going on the offensive. She would use her usual fighting style that incorporated dance to confuse her opponents - it made it much easier to dodge attacks, especially from heavy hitters.

He was perplexed, but only for a moment. She managed to land a kick to his side, though it only succeeded in cutting his jacket. It was like kicking metal while a human; he's a sturdy tough bastard. 

The angel flexed a wing, though it may as well have been a punch. 

Grunting, Carmilla threw the spear, trying to hit one of his wings.

Instead, Adam caught it, looking unimpressed. He twirled the weapon into a blur, almost like something from a circus show. 

He used that spear like it was part of his body, effortless and with ease - he trained the exorcists. Why else would he be their leader?

It made sense. He was a soldier, after all.

Carmilla knew soldiers. She knew them in life and death. She knew the eyes of a soldier, a veteran, someone that's tasted true carnage.

She had killed one of his people, someone he cared for deeply. 

If Vox did decide to attempt anything against Adam, he'd be in for a rude awakening. The first man wasn't a pushover. 

In a twisted way, she respected it. Regardless of Carmilla's intentions, he was avenging the death of a single soldier. Many wouldn't care.

She wasn't overly devastated by the employees that were dead - it was more of an annoyance. The thing with Calvin had been more personal as his loss was to make a point - the exorcist hadn't died painlessly, and he was angry about it.

Unless it was one of her daughters, Carmilla wouldn't have gone on a massacre and put on a show to avenge a lone employee.

Zestial would, though. As would Rosie.

They got it from their father.

Before Carmilla could register it, he threw the spear. With the strength he used, it passed through her shoulder and into the wall. She was sent flying, rolling on her blood-stained carpet. It hurt so much, but he was far from finished.

He wouldn't stop until he felt that his soldier, his friend, had been avenged. 

Although the first man was within his right to avenge his soldier, Carmilla feared for Zestial. How would he react to learning that his father had killed his partner? And her girls - she vowed never to leave them.

Why did she hear running? It was too light to be Adam.

"No!"

Fear coursed through Carmilla as Clara ran to her. She was supposed to be out with her friends!

The head exorcist lifted his tail, preparing to strike the intruder. 

She got hit by it before, and she'll be hit again; she didn't want her daughter to endure that pain. 

Carmilla pounced, shoving her darling Clara away from the sledgehammer. It whacked into her chest, sending her through two walls. If she were slightly weaker, it would've bisected her.

Her spine was shattered. Any movement was agonising, but at least her daughter wasn't the one feeling it. 

"Mom!" Clara cried, trying to get to her again. 

Curiously, the first man allowed her past. He observed silently as Clara got to Carmilla, hugging her fearfully.

"Mi rosita," Carmilla sighed, forcing her mostly broken arm to stroke Clara's poofy head. "Tienes que correr. Cuida de tu hermana."

"No, Mom - please!" Clara sobbed, rising to see her face. "I can't lose you!"

"I killed that angel. I'd do the same if someone hurt you, my beautiful rose."

As she'd spoken, the angel approached, though not as aggressively as before. She couldn't read his expression.

He observed as the girl kissed Carmilla's forehead, tears running down her beautiful face. 

Somehow, his passive observation was more sinister than his toying with her.

"Your vengeance is with me, not my daughter," Carmilla coughed, easily choosing her over herself.

It'd be impossible to hesitate over something so simple. Her babies always came first.

Adam cocked a brow as if debating this. She didn't understand why he was only watching, not acting. 

"No!" Clara shouted, rising from Carmilla's embrace.

Clara was only 5'7ft. He had to crane his neck down, which would've been comical if not for the situation. 

If she provoked him, he might kill her. There would be no worse fate than losing her daughters.

"Mi rosita-"

"She did it to protect me and my sister!" Clara shouted, attempting to look large. However, it looked like a mouse trying to frighten a lion. "If you'll blame anyone for the exorcist, blame me! Not my Mom!"

Her darling daughter was so brave. She was proud and furious with her.

Strangely, the angel lifted his hands towards his head, only to remove the helmet. 

It's been a long time since Carmilla saw a human face. It was uncanny. While one was gold like his wings, the other was a murky green. Having seen many eye injuries in her life and death, he was visually impaired. His face was scarred, one of many she suspected; medals of victories, defeats and survival. 

Did that mean all of the exorcists wore masks? She suspected Vaggie to be an exorcist, though mostly due to the X over her eye.

The X must be a nod to that damaged eye. The exorcists incorporated an aspect of him into their masks, displaying their loyalty and reverence - something that must've been earned. 

Though his mismatched eyes were still that of a veteran's, they weren't as spiteful as before. There's something new - something you only get when you've lived an absurdly long time.

Somehow, Carmilla knew he was far older than the six or so thousand years proposed by the Bible. Maybe even more than a hundred thousand. 

Clara was equally afraid and amazed. Like Carmilla, it'd been long since she'd seen a human face, regardless of the gold eye.

What was this expression? Was it sympathy? She didn't know.

"Don't say that," the angel advised, confusing Clara further. "There's few pains worse than watching your child die." 

If anyone told Carmilla a week ago that the head of the exorcists would be advising her daughter that she shouldn't sacrifice herself for Carmilla - that it'd be worse if Clara or Odette died in her stead - she would've used their skull as a pencil holder. It's madness.

But that's what's happening. 

Carmilla has seen the side that Zestial feared, but she's also seeing the hints of who made Zestial into the man she loved. 

For now, the exorcist was gone, and the father was here. 

"I knew it might come to this," Carmilla sighed, accepting this fate. "And I'd do it again to keep you beautiful girls safe."

It's what you do when you're a parent. You sacrifice yourself, your future and your autonomy for the sake of your children. It's far from selfless and an impossible endeavour, but the journey is the stuff of fairytales.

If you deeply want to be a parent - not all people want to, and some shouldn't be allowed to - then you must give your everything.

Especially if that's your life.

Clara hugged her again, trembling with fear, tears pouring from her beautiful eyes. 

Adam had his hand raised, gold angelic energy in his palm. Raw holy power would likely incinerate her, making it at least quick. With a final kiss to Clara's head - and a simultaneous relief and regret that Odette isn't here - she waited to be erased, her soul fed to the malignant Roo.

A light shined and Carmilla felt it pierce her body. However, it wasn't in her chest or anywhere else she anticipated. 

Only one of her eyes reopened, the other burned and was reduced to smouldering ash. 

Clara started, shocked. Understandably, her daughter expected her to die.

Adam's hand lowered, a mix of anger and content on his features. Instead of outright killing her, he only took her eye. 

It was a reminder and a warning. He wouldn't have given it without Clara's stupidity and bravery. 

Once again, Carmilla owed her life to her girls.

No other exorcist would show mercy. Perhaps... that's what made him their leader.

The one whose mere presence spurred Lucifer the Recluse to come outside and play with him. 

"Muchas gracias," Carmilla wheezed, accepting it.

In a way, it sparked more respect. He could've killed her and her daughter but chose not to. 

"No me des las gracias. And don't make me come back here."

He placed his helmet on, hiding the oh-so-human features she missed. 

Wings like a plane spread, shining with power and glory. They beat once, sending all dust to flee from his presence. The strength in those limbs had to be more than his heavy-hitting tail. 

He opened a portal above him, showing that he didn't even need to chase her; it was to prove a point. He only needed one push to send himself through, and it closed.

The light was gone, sending them into darkness.

Carmilla was alive, albeit sans an eye. However, her daughters were alive and safe, and that was what mattered.

Hopefully, Zestial won't be too angry with her unexpected visit by his father. 

Chapter Text

Existence. It is never as simple nor chaotic as often thought.

It did not begin with a bang, nor even a whimper. 

Eyes like white phosphorous reflecting the light of distant stars had opened to an empty expanse, a fresh canvas to be painted upon. The alabaster skin around them had intricate metallic black markings, detailed and coiling like their own galaxies.

The suffocating nothingness.

The first creation of God in this sliver of reality.

It was his duty, his purpose, to fill this emptiness with bustling life, beauty and perfection. It was the natural life cycle of God's species to find new territory, create a successor, and together, forge a galaxy to teach them to continue.

Someday, he would've found a piece of nothingness, birth an heir, and devise majesties beyond comprehension. That was what was supposed to happen.

He had trailed behind his creator. It was only them for aeons; it was all he had ever needed or wanted. Why would he want or need anything else?

Why desire when he had everything in his divine, righteous palms?

He wanted what he could never know how to plead for.

There was no end to what God made. He marvelled at every moment, watching as he created worlds that would eventually be self-sufficient. The fauna that would call them home would be left with minimal guidance, following the law of survival of the fittest.

Some grew beyond their inferior ways. They "progressed", as God had explained, but he never saw it that way. Such things as advancements, inventions and more appeared viler with every world he saw.

Civilisations. They rose and fell like the coming of a tide. The story was repetitive - lesser beings believing themselves equal to God and themselves, bickering over trivial matters, and causing their extinction. Some even destroyed their world, and some took other worlds with them. 

The cycle repeated. No matter what God seemed to do, it wouldn't cease. 

They'd watched them evolve from single cells into beings that squandered the world God gifted them.

As God's power was spreading thin from so much, he created assistants - angels, he named them. 

One of many decisions that confused him. 

It infected him with being alone.

"Father. These... assistants. They are small," he said, looking up at God. "How can they perform such duties when they're so... so?"

"My child, size is but one aspect of a being. Big or small, wide or thin, these are trivialities compared to the greatest measurement of all - potential. Take Michael, for example. Though made to be an angel of divine justice, he is a great healer of the sick."

The little beings flew around the new construct of Apostle. It is to be a city for these beings to live. Such a concept perplexed him, however. What living was there beyond their work?

Why would angels require the inferior ways of lesser beings? They are supposed to be above them. Perfect. A guiding hand in their dire times of consistent stupidity.

He observed them. He watched as they flocked together, communicating. There was something he wasn't familiar with.

He longed for it.

It was like in the millions of animals he saw. They often travelled in groups. Creatures and their spawn would stick together, usually.

As the future ruler of this galaxy, he shouldn't feel so... what did he feel? It wasn't the usual sensations of disgust or disappointment. 

Did he... no. He didn't want these lowly forms of interaction. He was above them.

"You have yet to engage with them," God furthered, those kind eyes meeting his white phosphorous ones. "Are you nervous, my child?"

"The divine do not feel nervousness."

And yet, it fills his very being.

"Trepidation is as much a hindrance as it is an ally, my child. These are your brothers, sisters and those that vary - they may choose however they wish to be referred."

But why?

They are deities. They must tell others what is and what isn't. It's their duty.

What was the point in allowing lesser beings to decide matters far above them?

He knew the concept of siblings. He saw many variations, but such things confused him. How did sharing certain genes enforce a relationship?

"I do not require brothers, sisters or those varying. Like how you don't."

God existed long before him. He didn't need others, and neither would he.

They were necessary strings in the web of this duty.

"Metatron, my son," God began, something strange filling those mystical eyes. "Do you not wish to connect with others?" 

"We have our place in the hierarchy of existence, Father. It is where we belong. Intermixing clouds what should be clear."

He didn't understand why God continued to gaze upon him. It wasn't the emotion of disappointment, that was a feeling he knew well.

He didn't like it, though.

He didn't like how it looked like concern or worse, fear.

"I never required them before," he continued, wishing God to cease. "I only need you, Father."

God did not reply, his eyes slowly returning to Apostle and the swarming inferiors. 

They were to help him, but he didn't need them.

He didn't want their help.

He had never felt so alone.

Long after the creation of the angels, along came Earth. A planet that collided with another, the remnants forming a moon, beckoning for their divine and superior touch.

It was supposed to be his first step towards ascending.

They would create a small place where God would teach him how to plan fauna and flora and make contingencies and possible evolutionary paths. It was exceedingly complicated and interconnected, something lesser beings couldn't fathom.

God named it Eden. It was to be where he learned and adapted to the leading role. When God created an animal, he had to form blueprints for its habitat, behaviour, what it feasted upon, relation to other creatures - there was so much work from the littlest gnat to the dinosaurs. 

And then God did something he never could've fathomed, he had made something wrong. 

Mael.

The mistake. The precursor to his banishment. 

It once dared to compare them.

"You despise me," said Father's latest creation. "Why?"

They looked over him with those dark orbs that had that irritating iridescent green ring around those inquisitive pupils, the ones that dissected his every atom.

Nothing escaped those eyes. They were arrogant, demanding that this universe bent to their whim, providing answers that they hadn't earned the right to ask. What made them so special compared to the divine? 

He despised them. He hated how they had to question everything, especially him. 

"What makes you believe such things? I am the Voice of God. I am above hatred."

As the Voice of God, he was not to be questioned. All knew that, even the curious Samael. There was only one above Metatron, and that was God himself. 

"Are we not the same? One too old to have felt the embrace of many wings, and one too young to touch the clouds... We should be united in our common isolation. And, yet, you loathe me. I don't understand why..."

He was not alone. He had God, the universe, all life and existence within his palms. He did not feel such weak things as loneliness or envy, they were for lesser creatures. 

It didn't burn when he saw the lower-ranking angels flock together, frolicking in the skies together, experiencing one another's perspectives and presences.

It didn't sting when they watched him from afar, never approaching.

He was the Voice of God, the highest of them all - they were wise to give him a wide berth. 

Why did it hurt when they looked upon him in fear instead of reverence?

"You presume much."

"You were alone for aeons, Metatron. Even the deities crave companionship. I wish to solve both of our problems with mutually beneficial relations. We can be... friends. I like that word. It feels right."

Friend.

He did not need such things.

He longed for them desperately.

It was because of Mael that everything went wrong. It was ruined. Destroyed. 

Why had God made them? 

He always knew deep down why. Why else? 

God feared him. His own Father was afraid of him. In this fear, an emotion only for weak, mortal creatures, he attempted to replace him.

He couldn't let that stand. He wouldn't. 

As if to further spite him, God split them in two, a male and a female. They were named Adam and Lilith, a duo quite unlike Mael, but not enough to brush aside his burning spite for them.

Why did they get to name what he worked so hard on? What was so special about them? Why did they get the love and adoration of the angels?

They wouldn't even look at him.

The female was tolerable. He could ignore her. It was the male that he couldn't stand.

That green. It was Mael's green, but instead of rings, they were the entire iris. They insulted him with every blink, daring him to prove his worth to God. 

"What do you want?" he said, keeping his voice monotone.

He was seething as those revolting green eyes looked him over. How dare this filthy, lowly thing examine him. It isn't even an entire soul, merely half!

"What're you making?" the "human" inquired, the curiosity irked him to no end.

"Far beyond your comprehension."

"Is it cool?"

"The temperature does not concern you."

"Not literally! Like, you know, is it nice? You say nice and cool, so why not give up the "nice and" bit and say cool? Is it cool?"

The sheer stupidity astounded him.

How was this vile thing half of his replacement? Did God believe him to be so weak? 

He would prove he was beyond that. He was above it.

"Should you not be following the natural order and copulating with the female?"

"Eh? No!" the little thing gagged, disgusted. "That's my sister!"

"You possess no sibling relation."

"She's half of me. We're... y'know, like Rafael and Gabriel, made together. We're wings on a bird. We're two of a kind. Two-kin! No, that sounds stupid. Kinwo? Kwo? No, I got it! Twin!"

"Twin?"

"She's my twin! Yeah!"

That was a ludicrous belief.

"Leave me, ape. I have important duties."

Ones that he won't get the praise or admiration he deserves.

"Oh, uh, cool. So... you're not joining me, Lily and Sami in playing with the ducks? They're cute!"

Duck? What word was "duck"?

"Who is "Sami". There is no entity of that name, or is it another of your inane descriptors?"

"Samael's nickname. He glows a lot, super luminescent. Lumi would be a cute nickname, but it needs a snake sound."

"I... snake sound?"

"You know! The hiss. The long S!"

"I loathe to hear you speak."

"Lussi? Ew, no. Give me a bit - I'll make a better one. Laters, Mets!"

He hated that thing with every atom of his being.

It felt so good to break that dumb naivety, the unearned brightness. It felt amazing to punish the deserving.

Few things brought him joy like when he'd plunged his fingers into the weak flesh of the filth with Mael's eyes and plucked a rib from his feeble body. As he refused to follow the natural order, he would create a new female, but ensure they cannot be apart without pain.

Eve - she was his first creation without direct input or guidance from God. 

He enjoyed deceiving Lilith and Samael in banishing all four of the mistakes from Eden's perfection. 

While he hadn't eaten the apple meant for him, he couldn't part from Eve. Regardless of how it played out, he had succeeded in removing the vile humans from the beauty of his garden. 

It didn't stop there, though. He wasn't satisfied, those green eyes haunting him at every corner. He had to make them suffer for daring to try and take what belonged to him.

So, when the first man died, he ensured Eve and their wretched spawn couldn't follow. He would be alone, and he would pay for his mockery.

It had been good. Over time, he gathered more support and followers and had a pet he would toy with whenever curious. There was much he could experiment with. 

God was a busy entity. He ensured that the little halfling didn't interfere with his duties. What could half of a soul possibly do to assist the might of a deity?

He didn't want God to choose it over him.

The designer of this fraction of reality was not stupid, however. He saw how the mistake was terrified of him, as it should've been. It did not belong within Apostle or in existence at all. It wasn't equal to the worms in the dirt. He reminded it of that fact every waking moment.

It was nothing.

God looked at it like it was everything.

"What have we learned this day?" he asked, observing how the small, frail creature remained still.

Why did God have this half-soul assist in the building of Judgement? What made it better than him?

He was the Voice of God, the first creation! He was superior, the epitome of success, the heir to all that existed around them!

What could make God smile so warmly when it had done nothing to earn it? 

It had been long since his father smiled like that towards him. It'd been longer since those mystical ancient eyes were filled with pride for him. 

Only he should have such things. How could he become as grand and ascend if God couldn't even smile with pride at his immense efforts?

This thing didn't earn it! What had it done besides name beasts, make a fool of itself, spawn more filthy creatures and die to a tree?

A blasted tree!

The buffoon Zuriel or whatever he named himself had grown the very forest - per his plans, of course - that killed the horrid mistake. It was a slow demise, but not nearly slow enough.

God must've approved, surely. It wouldn't have been an apple tree of all things if not.

Wisely, he heard no answer from the feeble form. However, he demanded a response. He would not be refused.

Nobody refused the Voice of God.

He pressed his heel on the mangled wing. Why it shone like the sun and stars, he didn't know. Everyone else had pristine white wings. 

It crunched beneath his weight and power, but no sound came from the shivering form. What was it that Michael called it? Shock? Something like that.

Jophiel and Phounebiel used larger, sillier terminologies for weakness.

He would have to leave the waste with Jophiel for repairs. There wasn't any point in punishment if it wasn't even conscious, and he refused to do that himself.

As he watched it, he saw it move. It shook, but it was trying to regain consciousness.

The game was yet to finish.

Good.

What made God love it more?

"You will only speak when I allow it," he stated, grabbing it by the head. A gold eye, bloodshot and foggy, met his white phosphorous ones. Instead of submission and fear, he saw a flash of anger.

How dare it not submit! 

Fire blazing in his core, he lifted his arm only to smash its vile head back into the floor. Gold splattered and that insulting eye rolled back, unconscious.

Jophiel will fix it. 

He would find more... less physical ways to teach this pet how to behave, how it did not have the right to anger, happiness or anything beyond fear and devotion.

They all learned in time.

How had things changed so quickly?

That was easy to answer. His father, ever the merciful and loving, spoke to Samael - he renamed himself Lucifer, taking the halfling's little nickname to heart. Somehow, Samael had formed a hybrid with the other halfling.

Damian. 

It had felt good to rip that little abomination's throat out. His mouth caused his pet to bite back, for his kingdom to turn on him. 

The madness of Mael had passed on to Damian, for he had the gall to stand before his choir and demand an audience. The boldness, the arrogance, he despised it. 

It was insulting enough that human creatures infected heaven, but this... mutant desired more? How vile!

"You believe the horrid deserve to rise from their rightful place?" he questioned, perplexed. 

All humans belonged there. 

His eyes briefly looked at his pet sticking by Jophiel's side. It had spoken out of turn mere hours earlier and required correcting - Damian demanded everyone be there, and Jophiel was adamant about not leaving the little beast alone. Why she cared for it, he would never know.

Some of the lesser angels were weaker than even the cherubs. If God were still here, he should've been disappointed.

God was only disappointed in him.

"The past few hundred years, something's changed - after God left, innocent people began to appear in Hell. Children as young as a year old have formed down there. Redemption is not just for the sinners that' have already done heinous wrongs, but for those who shouldn't even be there!" Damian bellowed, proud of this delusion.

There are no innocent humans.

His assistants murmured amongst each other, several confused by this belief. 

Jophiel's eyes were on him again. It wasn't her stare that revolted him, however. His pet knew.

Of course, he taught it to keep quiet. but it had seen the aftermath... it knew that God hadn't ascended to create a new galaxy. It knew too much.

"If they appeared in Hell, it is where they belong," Michael said. He was as loyal as the day he was created. "God is infallible. He created Judgement. You dare mock him in his absence?"

It was still looking at him. 

"Don't ya try that shit!" Zuriel hissed, the former angel of the forests. He had a disgusting bug appearance, though not nearly as vile as humans. "You can't be this fuckin' dumb, Mike."

"We know what you did, you bastard!" Seraphiel continued, her insectoid wings buzzing with anger. They weren't grand like her former set.

He was insulted by her presence, let alone her words.

She was made to be his guard, not that he needed it. She was to be by his side but chose Samael over him. They all had.

Damian raised his hands, easing the agitated peanut gallery. They disgusted him, no longer perfect or useful to God's cause.

It would be completed one way or another.

What was missing? Why did Judgement refuse to adhere to him? As the ruling deity of this galaxy, he had the authority and right to decide what was and wasn't virtuous. It was he who drew the line on the shores of this reality!

Was he not the heir?

"Maybe we should listen," said a young angel, one created not long before... God left. She was made to observe as a watcher, named after his defective former guard. "We've all heard Judgement. Its song is out of tune. If there's a problem, we must solve it."

Sera was correct in that they had to fix the problem. However, listening to Damian wasn't it.

There is nothing to redeem or save.

"She's right," Gabriel agreed, spotting how closely his pet stuck to Jophiel's side. He couldn't read Gabe's expression. "We ensure that everything God left in place runs smoothly. If there is even a possibility that something is wrong, we must investigate."

"How long has this been happening, Child of the Morning Star? Be precise, please," asked Aeshma, numerous eyes locked onto Damian.

"Precise? Three hundred and forty-three years, seven months and eight days. If I'm correct, then it's the very day that God left, too," Damian deduced, briefly looking back at Samael and the female halfling. "We're very concerned that undeserving souls are being unjustly punished. That is not what Hell's for. No child should ever pass our gates." 

"Nor should they pass ours," Temeluch sighed, saddened. 

"Then we should bring them here immediately!" Sizouze barked, horrified. 

"And how exactly do we do that?" Kushiel mocked, rolling his single eye. "We all know what humans can do. We've had that one for ages," he continued, motioning to his pet. "Disgusting creatures. They all belong down there."

"If God believed that, he wouldn't have created Judgement in the first place!" argued Rahab.

"Apostle is for the divine, not the mortal waste," sneered Moroni.

"Are any of you hearing yourselves!?" Gader'el bellowed, his voice overpowering the bickering buffoons. The fallen angel stood tall, the heads beside his rooster-like one scowling. "We are supposed to work together! We are a team, no matter which end of this coil we roam - the good come here, and the bad belong with us; it can't get simpler than that, and yet you're yapping like damn scavengers over a carcass! This has to be fixed!"

Gader'el finally decided to be more than furniture, had he?

He'd renamed himself as Asmodeus, the Sin of Lust. He lusted for more than his right, defending Samael and Lilith's revolting bond. It got him banished from his kingdom.

They all deserved to suffer down there.

While God had decided that they should rule Hell, it was he who changed them to reflect their hideous betrayal. 

All who died would reform into the vile things they truly were.

"Apologise."

The female halfling spoke with confidence and arrogance, her gaze fixated on Kushiel. Though Samael and Seraphiel attempted to ease her growing anger, they proved futile. 

"What was that?" Kushiel huffed, dismissive of her.

"You insulted my brother. Apologise."

"Unnecessary," he stated, equally as dismissive.

None should apologise for reminding his pet how little it was worth.

God loved it more than him.

That only infuriated her more. Why?

Lilith gave Eve that apple - it didn't matter who imbued it with corruption - it was her fault that Eve and his pet were cast from his perfect gardens. Who was she to come to the defence of the one she'd damned?

If left up to him, his pet would be in hell as well, but it suffered more being so far away from Eve and its spawn.

"The fuck you done?" Raguel hissed. His new name, Satan, was a silly one. "Don't you give me that look - I see the glares you have been givin' 'im. How long have you been using Jo's healing to hide your bullshit?"

An angel of god's justice. It was his wrath that damned him, furious that God would declare that Samael and Lilith should preside over Hell.

"Aye, ya bampot!" Matriel snarled, their peculiar speech hard to decipher. He disliked Leviathan as a name, too. "Wee bastard's shakin' like a shitting dug!"

What's a dug?

Though that was a mystery, his pet was indeed shaking.

It was out of fear, not cold. Good.

Many eyes were drawn to his pet, who kept its eyes on the railing and little else. He was glad that they were gold, no longer that repugnant green.

Jophiel's wing embraced him, a display of comfort that angered him. 

It didn't deserve such things!

It stole God's affections from him.

"You question the Voice of God?" Michael snapped, drawing attention away from his pathetic pet. "He has ascended for a reason. He knows above us all. Who are you to accuse him of anything beyond his divine right?"

"What did you do to my brother, you egotistical fucker!"

"I know you broke it!" Seraphiel added, her wings buzzing furiously. "You broke Judgement!"

It's like ants trying to yell at an elephant. Do the birds know how little their songs are worth to the moon and stars?

He is the ultimate being. He is divine, perfect and unfallible. 

Why was he so empty?

None would yell at a deity like this for him.

What made it so special compared to him?

"How do you know this?" Gabriel inquired, earning several looks of confusion.

"Speak, sister," Raphael continued, pink eyes locked onto his. 

They were suspicious.

It was an accident.

"I was by Metatron's side for longer than any of you. I know him. I know that under that grandioseness, you're wrathful, gluttonous, greedy, prideful, lazy, lustful and above them all, envious. You couldn't handle that God might not revere you as much as you think you deserve, so you punish humanity - how better to ensure the suffering of humanity than damning them all to Hell?"

"You presume much," he said, fighting to keep his composure.

She's right.

"God is dead."

Silence.

Slowly, his gaze returned to his pet, pale and shaking from the three words he'd uttered.

Anger burned, his eyes glowing brighter than any star.

He didn't mean to.

Jophiel visibly wanted to move, horrified, but she remained in place. She looked at him, immediately believing that creature over him. 

So many of his workers were staring, sharing that same look. They didn't have any doubt of his pet's words. 

Those loyal to him were confused. He had to salvage this.

He couldn't lose what little he had.

He's scared.

"Adam...?" Samael broke the silence, the spawn beside him beyond shocked for words. "How did God die?"

As if anticipating his scolding scowl, Zuriel had teleported in a puff of green smoke, obscuring his pet entirely. It irritated him.

What did that fledgling think of him to so obviously mock him, blocking his view of his toy?

It can't steal God's adoration anymore.

He couldn't see it, but he saw Jophiel's face. Something was said, and she was looking directly at him. She had confirmation for what she already believed.

"What the fuck!" Zuriel - or Mammon, whatever he called himself now - shouted, ire and anger directed at him. "The actual fuck, Meta!"

"You believe the spiel of an addict over the Voice of God?" Moroni cackled, shaking his head. "Of course, the baby believes such obvious stupidity."

"Meta?" little Sera questioned, 

"What would you know of our kin?" he said, glaring at where his traitorous pet hid. "It is the cycle - one dies for another to take their place. I am the Voice of God for a reason! I am the sound that carries long after the source has ceased. I have ascended as per his divine design. You were created to assist me, not to bite the hand that plucked you from nothingness!"

"Bullshit!" Gabriel yelled, fuming.

He had never uttered such vile words before.

"Was it God's design to torture one of his most beloved creations?" Jophiel said, her voice cold, but the words were scorching. "You did it, didn't you?"

"Torture only applies to a full soul," Kushiel shrugged. 

"I'm gonna give you a full nelson, ya mouthy cunt!" Zuriel hissed.

Such vile language.

"Let me at 'em!" Matriel hissed, held in place by Gader'el and Raguel. "Ah'll turn ye lungs into socks ya bawbag!"

Such outbursts of vile language and curses sowed doubt in the more unsure angels' minds, turning the tide back to his favour.

Why trust demons and a halfling over the Voice of God? The heir of this sliver of reality!

Alas, the spawn of Lilith and Samael found his voice again.

Damian took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact with him.

"If you were the true heir, then you'd have no trouble controlling Judgement. You wouldn't need to hurt my uncle to feel better," Damian said, the implication louder than a supernova. "You aren't the heir of God's design. Not anymore. He chose someone else, and you can't handle it."

"Such stupidity!" Azrael huffed, but he could hear the scepticism - that loyalty wasn't as strong as before. "If not Metatron, the Voice of God, then who?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Damian furthered, making direct eye contact with him. "Why else would you keep my uncle and mother separated if you weren't terrified of the truth?"

Mael.

It was always Mael.

They know about the replacement.

He couldn't stand for such disrespect. Fortunately, another was insulted enough on his behalf to act. 

Moroni sent a bolt of concentrated holy energy at Damian, aiming to incinerate the insulting abomination that burned their divine eyes. It was to wipe away the evil that stood before them.

Nothing could ever go as he yearned, however. With speed he was not anticipating, his pet spread those off-coloured wings. It collided with the hybrid, taking the brunt of the holy power. Compared to what he had done to it, Moroni's bolt may as well have been a slap.

He didn't understand the female halfling's fright, nor why she was desperately huddled over the crumpled form. Why did the other rejects follow her? Why did Samael seem as equally panicked as she and her spawn?

Never would he understand.

Zuriel and Jophiel were with them in a puff of green, the divine healer shaking with panic. 

"Why'd you do that?" Mastema questioned, confused. "That would've killed Damian."

"He's half Samael. He would've been fine," Moroni lied.

"You know that's not true," Rahab growled. "Nothing to say, Met?"

"What is it you would like me to say, Rahab? These accusations are baseless and delusional. Judgement operates as it should, and we follow God's plan. I omitted his death only to avoid such situations as this, where the banished try to reclaim what they are not owed," he said, composed on the outside, but he was seething.

"How did Adam know?" Sera asked, still confused. 

"I know not how. Perhaps the human followed its nature in destruction," he said, implying who was at fault.

It's all his fault .

"Don't you dare!" Lilith screamed, furious. "Don't you dare blame my brother for this!"

"He said he saw you over God's body," Zuriel added, growling, green lightning sparking around his body. "He saw you!"

"Again, the human is an addict," Kushiel mocked.

"And who has the power to bring contraband into Heaven?" Raguel snapped back, his tail lashing like a whip. "You can't hide, you fuck!"

"There can only ever be two - a teacher and their apprentice," he sighed, feigning weariness. "I know not how God perished. However, I have taken my place, and I know the delusions of a hybrid of a half-soul and a fallen angel are not to be adhered to. Judgement sounds different because it is no longer God's essence that powers it but myself - it is my tune."

Lies.

Some knew, others didn't. 

So long as a few were on his side, he had control. 

Samael stepped forward, next to the spawn that shouldn't exist. The height difference was ridiculous. He had always been tiny, even amongst the angelic. It was comical that the little thing was trying to look proud.

Pride was his downfall, after all.

His pride.

"Brothers, sisters, variations - Metatron has never been one of us. He's always made that abundantly clear," Samael stated, his little voice echoing in the faux court. "He believes himself to be above us all! Above Judgement! Above God himself! That's why he killed him!"

He couldn't keep his scowl away from the little creature that caused such things to be spoken about him.

There it was, held up by the other half, wings puffed from discharge. As expected, it would operate fine. There is no lasting damage to his pet.

They were too close, however. He saw in gold and silver eyes a darkness with a green ring. He despised it.

He would never allow Mael to reform. 

They should be kneeling, not spouting such stupid things! None should dare stand before him like he were equal or some lowly inferior!

There was so much arguing. He loathed it.

They're abandoning him like Father had.

His pet gently had Lilith let go, walking alone to glare at its master. Such disrespect would be punished in time, and he would ensure it would be a long journey until it could breathe alone again.

Jophiel was behind him, nearby in case those feeble legs gave in. 

"He loved you, and you killed him," his pet said, daring to utter despite not having permission. "Are you satisfied? Is that gaping hole in you finally filled?"

Without the gaggle of outlaws, his pet would never stand against him like this.

"I am more whole than you, halfling."

"Better half a soul than none at all."

What?

What madness was that statement?

"Adam is the Angel of Souls," Gabriel said. They knew that, but it was just a title so it can feel worth more than it was. "You see them. Are you saying that Metatron doesn't have a soul?"

Since when could he see them?

"He doesn't," his pet affirmed, the fear replaced by anger. "As the Angel of Souls... I exorcise you from Apostle."

"What!?" shouted several angels, mainly those who believed him to be the true heir of these realms. 

It doesn't have that right. Only he and God can do such things!

"Given the evidence, I concur," Gabriel agreed, betraying him.

They keep choosing it over him.

"It does not possess that authority!" he growled, his composure gone.

"It!? He's one of us!" Mastema shouted, almost vibrating with shock and anger. "I agree. I exorcise you from this city!"

"You cannot lead us if you killed God or tampered with Judgement, let alone the fact you're soulless," Aeshma agreed. "I exorcise you as well."

"What makes you believe you can declare my fate? You are the help. Inferior. Ants that do the menial tasks for those far greater. Have you all grown so egotistical to believe you are more than you are? I am the Voice of God. At least some of you understand the gravity of this divine system."

He had a soul. He felt as much as they did. He was not some lesser thing with no life!

It was lying. 

It's lying and they're all falling for it!

Is that why he's always so cold?

"A human can't initiate an exorcism!" Moroni and Kushiel said simultaneously.

"Neither can they see souls, much less divine ones," Azrael added.

"Barely half at that," Michael continued. "Metatron is our deity! What is this mutiny!?"

"Stop sucking his cock!" Gader'el howled, those tail feathers lashing. "We exorcise him too!"

"Go fuck yourself, ya cunt chewer!" Zuriel hollered, throwing four middle fingers at him.

The sheer disrespect...

"If you do not step down, we will make you," Damian warned.

Many of them went quiet again, shocked by the declaration. That was a whole lot more than merely instigating an exorcism. 

Samael and Lilith were shocked at their spawn. They did a poor job of raising him.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" he questioned, scowling. "You are nothing to us, spawn. You continue to exist because I allow it, as I allow all that is around us. Do not mistake my patience for mercy - I have none."

To everyone's astonishment, Turiel had awoken. She curled around Damian protectively, her tail whipping the air - what name had she chosen? Ah, that was it. 

Belphegor. Much like the rest, it was a silly name. She was banished for her laziness and unwillingness to follow her duties.

They're all defective assets he no longer required to continue. 

"Say that again and I'll kill you myself," Samael threatened, his little fists tightening.

"I will do you one better, Samael. I will do as you should have, and return this spawn to the aether," he vowed.

He kept that promise. 

He didn't anticipate that mouthy spawn to raise a rebellion and coup against him. Such things were for lowly creatures. Even abominations as himself should've been above them.

He wasn't prepared for what they had forged in their effort to defy God's will.

He couldn't have foreseen the war, the armadas rallied behind outlaws, chanting Gadreel's name.

The lands were torn and destroyed, continents split and mountains equally raised and flattened.

It's so close to being over.

He could lose it all.

He could hear them, even at this distance. There his nemesis stood, the gold armour that haunted him, the axe that inspired the delusional hope in the terrorist occupiers. 

They all called Gadreel's name. There were mortal humans, demons, the virtuous and angels alike, all together as though equal. They could all be erased at any moment, but all his arch-nemesis had to do was raise that axe and spread those wings, and they would gladly take the risk.

None ever looked to him like that.

He could hear the speech of the revered and beloved commander, the general, Gadreel shining with the sun's light as it rose from behind them. 

"Hold your ground, brothers, sisters, and those that vary. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take my soul - there may come a day when our strength will fail and falter, where we forsake our allies and ourselves and break the bonds we forged upon these harsh times...!"

He could see the black stripes on that dented pauldron. His white phosphorous eyes were better than any of his army. He was perfect, after all.

What ascended being couldn't hear the way those soldiers bellowed and roared with every rousing word of that traitor's speech?

"But today is not that day! An hour of hellhounds and shattered wings, when the age of mortality comes crashing, will not come this day! This day, we fight! By all that you hold dear, be you of mortal means or divine and damned birth - I bid you stand proud, souls of these realms!  This day doesn't belong to one, be they heaven or hell bound but to all!"

Shields were beaten with swords, halberds, spears and all other assortments like drums. It was a song of its own, a foreboding promise of victory at any cost.

When both sides have lost so much, they had to fight for what little remained. 

He learned over the aeons that fear was the most effective way to rule and command. 

Those soldiers did not look at Gadreel with fear.

"Let us rebuild the realms not as enemies but kin under the same sun and moon - brothers and sisters shared - for the souls passed and yet to be. For the new dawn! For death!"

He could see Lilith with her trident, Samael with his scythe, Gabriel with his halberd and... he loathed to see Adam's battle axe.

The army bellowed death, well aware that to preserve their idea of a future, they had to sacrifice theirs. It was beyond him.

"What're they screaming?" Moroni asked, confused.

"Death," he answered, aware that the buffoon couldn't comprehend the chorus beyond their grounds. "We will introduce them to a fate they so desperately yearn for."

He had underestimated them. If the perfect being could have any flaws, it would be that.

One of too many for Father to love.

Gadreel was high before his fall, the betrayal of Heaven to its rightful master. 

Golden holy light surged around the axe, the very thing that threatened the end to billions of aeons of effort and work. 

All of God's majesty and perfection would be ruined.

"First to rise, last to fall," snarled words of malice and wrath, of the evil he swore to remove from God's perfect world. 

The facade of six wings blocked the setting sun, descending them in darkness. His divine eyes were trapped with those vile, disgusting pair, the ones he once took great amusement in seeing water and bleed. He enjoyed how they glazed over once he found Damian's body on that cross.

Those eyes were like twin suns, burning with a hatred he almost respected. Through that helmet, he could see the scars of battle. 

Golden armour shined in the lessening light, battered and ruined from an intense battle. It was once beautiful, despite the one who wore it. 

"You think you have won?" he spat, black fluid splattering on the marred grounds. 

"No," his nemesis growled, the axe in those strong hands ready to fulfil its purpose. "But neither have you."

"The Voice of God cannot be silenced, inferior."

"Inferior?" his nemesis mused, almost as if the idea entertained him. "How fitting it is for the inferior to have beaten you. How fitting that Gadreel is your downfall."

"You may wound this physical form, but I will reform and return - you cannot beat me."

"That's the thing, Metatron," the malformation of atoms spat, divine energy comparable to God himself swarming around them like locusts to a field. "I've dreamed of the moment I'd kill you. It's all that's kept me going anymore. But that's not enough. For everything you've done... I'm going to make you suffer."

"I am above such weaknesses, cretin!"

When the axe swung down, the blade embedding past his armour and into his chest, he did not feel pain. It was warm, almost comforting, which confused him.

He felt something change. It was wrong. There was something... beating. It caused the axe to shiver.

Gadreel shook as more golden energy surged, illuminating his veins, and spreading throughout his being. His divine body began to melt and deform.

The pain began.

"You've always been "above", so it's about time you joined the rest of us..." his nemesis sneered, satisfaction spreading under that helmet. "You're going to suffer, trapped in the very human-filled world you despise - you'll be stuck as we rebuild without you, as though you were never needed at all... and I get to leave you with the worst wound of all. The fact that I'm better than you."

Little was more insulting than that, the proclamation of something being better than he, the Voice of God. 

God...

He hated thinking about God, but his Father never left his consciousness.

"I'm sorry, Metatron. I can't," God said, grief and sorrow in his mystical, perfect eyes.

"What do you mean? I don't understand!"

"And I am so, so sorry for that. It's my fault, my child," the deity said, clasping his shoulders. It felt frightening. He shouldn't feel such things. "I have failed you."

"Failed? Father - Father I have succeeded! I am on my way to ascension!"

Tears did not befit those three beautiful eyes. They were unbecoming of a divine such as themselves.

He didn't understand. What was God talking about? Why were they here? What did Judgement have to do with anything?

He felt fear, and he couldn't stand it.

So much surged inside of him that he became afraid of it as well. He had never felt this much in his entirety of existence and it scared him.

"My child, please - do not panic-" God tried, seeing his distress.

"I have done everything you've asked for!" he yelled, something cold and tight in his chest.

His throat was closing. It felt like a hand was crawling up those walls and clawing at his tongue, nails scraping his teeth.

What is this evil, horrid sensation? It feels... is this what death is like?

Is he dying?

"I thought - I never had the time to feel it, to experience watching civilisations grow!" God said, looking as panicked as he felt. "I didn't get to bask in its beauty. I wanted so badly for you to feel that, to experience it - I waited too long, my son. In my endeavour to expose you to the universe, I isolated you from what truly mattered, and I can never apologise enough for that."

"Stop saying that!" he shouted, the fear rising. "I wasn't isolated. I don't need anybody! Nobody but you!"

"One cannot lead if they cannot follow, my son. One cannot guide down a path they have never traversed. My dear child, to care for a galaxy like this is to love it... to love all, imperfections and more. I failed to teach you that."

"I can learn! I can fix this!"

Mael is replacing him.

"It'll be ok," God said, trying to calm him down, but only made it worse. "The angels are going to help, my child. That's why they're here. You - you'll manage from up here, Samael can handle Hell, and Adam will take care of Judgement - you're not alone -"

That name burned rage in his heart.

The halfling.

Why did it get to have such a momentous duty as Judgement? That was his right!

It was his destiny to ascend, to take God's place and eventually have an apprentice of his own. He wasn't supposed to have help! Help was for the weak and pathetic, for the needy and lazy.

He had to be like God - it was his entire purpose!

"You don't want me to ascend..."

"You can't," God corrected, not that it's any better. "My dear child, how I love you so much it hurts... I love you too much to do that to you."

Love.

He didn't understand it. 

He hated it.

"I don't need love, I need to follow my duty!"

"Love is the primary drive for what we do, what we are," God tried, but he wasn't having it.

There are too many conflicting thoughts and feelings. It hurt.

Energy built in his body, spurred by the surge of emotion and fear. His panic was causing his power to lash out.

He couldn't contain it. He's never felt like this before; he can't handle it. 

Fluid is running down his face. That's never happened before. It scared him more.

"Son, please!"

"Get away from me!" he yelled, the fear boiling over.

His hand was out, trying to push God away. But all of that energy needed an outlet, somewhere to go.

As with lightning across water or metal, it raced towards the nearest conductive form that wasn't himself...

Light brighter than he had ever experienced bloomed, hurting his vision for the first time. That was scary, too.

The light faded, but it meant he could see what happened.

His Father. His maker. 

God has a hole through his abdomen and chest. He seemed equally surprised.

That's not supposed to be possible.

He could die, too.

"No! No, no, no - Father, no!" he begged, frightened. He didn't mean for this. None of this was meant to happen. "Father, don't leave me alone, please!" he pleaded, for the first time in his life.

God is upon the ground, fluids rushing from his divine body. It's too fast.

He used too much energy. He can't repair this.

"My child..." God tried, attempting to reach for the scared entity.

Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed his wrist and hand, shaking. This must be what nausea felt like.

"Don't leave me..." he begged, he prayed, anything to keep his father from leaving him behind.

He can't be alone again.

"I love you... I'm so sorry..."

This is different to physical pain. It's deeper, festering despite no wound. It's potent. 

How can such kind eyes remain when they're clouded, devoid of the light that illuminated the darkness of his existence? 

He didn't know what to do without his dad.

What would he do without the only one that cared about him?

Then he heard it. The sound of an intrusion.

The sound of wings, the sound of weight colliding with compressed clouds. 

White phosphorous eyes met with golden ones. 

"What-"

Its gold eyes were on God's form. It saw the blood on his hands. It didn't take much for it to see what had happened...

It would tell everyone. They would see that he was imperfect - he would lose everything God worked so hard to make!

He couldn't lose that.

He wouldn't!

Faster than the halfling could comprehend, he had his hand around its throat, slamming it into Judgement. The grand creation shook from the force, the squirming thing beneath his grasp crying in terror.

He can't lose everything.

He has lost the only thing that mattered.

"Let me go!" it sobbed, frightened. It glanced at Father's remains, angering him further.

It didn't have any right to even be here, let alone see God or his majestic creations.

"You see nothing!" he hissed, his grip tightening around the feeble flesh. His thumb dug into the connective tissue under the ear, that little spot keeping the jaw attached to the skull. "You saw nothing. You are nothing. You will not speak unless I give the say so!"

Panic surged in his veins, his wings ridged with fear.

Pushing that terror onto something else made it easier. 

"L-l-leh," the halfling tried, the jaw beginning to detach from the body.

It doesn't matter. He'll get Jophiel to fix it. 

Joints flexed, and gold fluids rushed to the floor following the splatter of a removed part. There would be no more words. No sounds.

None will know of this.

God has just left. That's it.

They've completed the cycle. He has ascended. He is in charge now.

He will make sure that God's plans will be fulfilled to perfection.

Moroni was complaining, pulling him away from thoughts of the only being who ever cared about him.

"You had him right there, you idiot!" Moroni whined,

It's not that he was interested in listening.

It's that Moroni was so loud that he couldn't drown him out.

"I couldn't!" Kushiel yelped, shivering in pain and fear. "He still has it."

Moroni shivered, frightened at the sheer implication.

Empty, collapsed sockets burned like white phosphorous, scorching the long scarred skin, muscle and bone surrounding them. The light forced Kushiel and Moroni to kneel, shaking in terror and devotion. A loyalty that those foolish pests couldn't fathom.

This prison of flesh, bone and weakness couldn't withstand the power of his voice. Even an attempt would cause it to degrade further, lowly sensations such as pain exacerbating at the mere thought. 

Such things would not stop him, however. He needed to hear that again. 

R̴̪̜̥̉̀̒̉̀̈́͝E̷͔̥͔̳̹̔̑̈́̂͊̋̕͝P̸̢̣̙̻̪̭͍͆̌̽̽̓͊͘͝E̶̗͍̖̎A̶̭̪̪̟͎̯͚̔̉̕͜T̵̢̻͗͂̆̽̃̇̿

Kushiel raised his head, nodding furiously, reaffirming his words.

So, his traitorous pet hadn't destroyed it as they'd all first believed. Though that instilled a weak, mortal emotion akin to "fear", it was nothing compared to something far less inferior.

Potential.

Regardless of what his surviving and formerly deceased followers devoutly believed, he felt the power of God in that weapon. Though he didn't know how, 

"I could have told you that," hissed a familiar and unwelcome voice, her scales scraping against the floor of his outer cell. The prison of stone holding the incarcerating flesh. "Though Adam is a fool, it's doubtful he even can destroy the artefact," she continued, her presence irritating him.

W̵̝̺̱͌̒̈́̒̂̈̍̚͝H̴̗̦̘̺͈͉̗̦͉̓͝Y̷͔̯̠̯̦̑͒̓̎̇̆̈́

"Because I no longer believe," she furthered, coiling herself into a sitting position. Once something so small now towered him, and he loathed it. "Adam was great once, but the marvel of Gadreel has long since passed. He and Gabriel are unfit to lead this existence, nor can they repair Judgement - only you can fix what has been broken."

It took her that long to see the truth.

His pet and the gullible Gabriel couldn't lead - Gabriel was a mere assistant, and his pet wasn't even a whole soul, just half of something once on the verge of potential. Nothing more than a toy.

A toy that he would take great pleasure in punishing for its treason.

Though he despised her, he required such a minor but necessary bolt in this grand machine to return him to his rightful place. 

"You got a plan, scales?" Moroni grumbled, his meagre wings ruffling against his back in fright as she glared at him. "You do. You wouldn't be before The Voice of God otherwise."

He hated Moroni and Kushiel, but at least they didn't argue with the true, natural order.

"Several," she hissed, her black tongue absorbing the particulates of the stagnant air. "To prevent you buffoons from ruining them, I'll only discuss them with The Voice."

She knew that they needed it. Whatever caused it to have the essence of God, it was the key to fixing the damage done to God's creation - Judgement needed repairing for him to save all of what his father worked hard for. 

To him, she was merely another tool in his arsenal to reclaim what was his by right.

It's clear now that Gadreel never fell, but the return shall never reach the peak of the past - he will snuff this light of foolish hope and delusion, pull the weed lest it take root once more. 

Killing Adam is the first step to ensuring he never sees that horrid gold again.

Euthanizing his rebellious pet has been long overdue. 

Chapter Text

Lucifer could've flown or made a portal to whatever caused that spike in holy power, but he waited. He only had to wait and Adam would be here.

He knew the moment that Adam left. It took roughly an hour until he returned, visibly frustrated and had cuts in his jacket; all evidence of a battle. Sinner and imp blood covered his hands, debris and dust clinging to his tail's fur and feathers.

The former seraph didn't need to look for Lucifer; he was behind the bar, eagerly awaiting the "tea" as many sinners called it. 

"Gonna tell me what that was about?" Lucifer mused, watching over the giant curiously. "I almost thought you were playing with Em or something. Hardly worth that," he joked, motioning to the opening in the jacket.

"A sinner killed one of my girls."

Oh.

That was something Lucifer didn't envy. Sure, he was placed in command of the legions of hell, but he didn't... he wasn't the commander, he only had that in name; Damian and Lilith did the real work. 

A little human named Peter was the first in the mortal realm to follow Damian, becoming the face of humanity. He and his closest associates became the Apostles of Damian, named after the city of Heaven itself. Though that book got so many things wrong, they got a decent amount of details regarding the Apostles correct.

It was harder for Lucifer to gather such reverence.

He couldn't connect with them as well as the twins and Damian. He wasn't as charismatic, as magnetising, as inspiring as them.

Gadreel would never have had such power over others without the twins or his son. A symbol that inspired terror on the opposing side.

Losing people wasn't difficult for Lucifer due to that lack of connection. For the others? That was a different story.

Adam always took it hard and personally. It didn't matter if it was a lowly scout or a high general, it always hurt him. 

For as much as things have changed, many remain the same. 

"Rest in pieces," Lucifer grinned, attempting to raise his spirits. 

"That's the problem. They're still alive."

That was odd.

It's not like a mere sinner could be an issue for his brother-in-arms. They've battled beside each other long enough for him to know that a preppy little sinner wouldn't last against the first man. 

The only reason they'd still be alive - intact is technically correct, given they're dead - is because he let them go.

Mercy is another thing that Lucifer was bad at. 

"You wanna drink over it?"

"Can't drink when I'm "emotionally compromised". Jophiel's orders."

Jo's still helping. That was a plus. Then again, it's doubtful she'll ever stop - Metatron left so many scars. 

Considering what that lunatic did, his friend was doing great. 

"Doesn't have to be booze. I got the best sodas this side of hell!"

"It better not be some swill Zuriel's selling. He's a cheap fucker."

"Not at all! Love my baby brother, but he's not trustworthy when it comes to products he hasn't made himself - it's from Beelzebub."

"Gimme."

"Comin' right up!" Lucifer smiled, rummaging through the stocks under the bar as his friend took a seat.

He may as well sit on the floor with how much he has to lean; one of the downsides to being so large in a space made for the average. Not that the sinners are average - they mostly tower over human heights. Some such as Niffty are an exception.

Lucifer himself is considered short. He has shape-shifted into being tall a few times but didn't like it. He prefers his miniature stature. Given that Adam has to be constantly wary of doorframes, it's a blessing to be fun-sized.

With nobody else around, all blissfully asleep - other than the annoying deer, who is thankfully elsewhere - it gave his friend the security to remove the mask. 

There's more to that situation than mercy or grief over a lost soldier. While Lucifer is far from observant, he can see the exhaustion that only comes from a deeply conflicting decision - the ones they had to make several times in the war. There's always the haunting shadow of "Did you do the right thing?"

Another thing that Lucifer didn't envy. Then again, there's the guilt of allowing his son to take that mantle.

He should've been far more proactive. He shouldn't have let his son lead. Maybe Dami would still be here otherwise.

Lucifer put the unholy pop before Adam, though the glass fit for a pint might as well have been a shot for the first man. 

"You're upset you didn't go through with it," Lucifer stated, observing as best as he could. 

Even he can acknowledge he might as well be a blind mole with certain things.

"I was going to. But her daughter intervened - she said that her mom only did it to protect her and that if I should kill anyone, it was her."

That was a pain in the ass. 

Lucifer wasn't even there and he felt conflicted. What would he do in that predicament?

If Razzle or Dazzle were killed, he'd be fuming, but if it was someone protecting their child? He'd still be mad, but any parent will face seemingly impossible odds for their child. 

He went off the rails in vengeance for his son, barely brought back to sanity by his family. With his daughter, he was so terrified of losing her, he isolated her. 

Lilith was so scared of losing her that she left.

Losing a child is an agony without words. They're supposed to outlive you, not the other way around. 

He'd relied on Adam so much when it came to living with that loss. There's no getting over it or an end to that grief - it's a nasty thing that lingered, like a permanent shadow in your peripheral.

Abel's death had been horrific. It'd been a complete accident. As Lucifer could attest, siblings bickered all the time, and while sometimes they fought, it was rarely with malicious intent. 

None of them wanted to hurt the other, even though there are times Mammon and Asmodeus get pretty damn close. It's typical, the little brother irritating the elder, trying to be like him but also being a bastard. 

Although he'd never met the boys in person, he knew Abel and Cain were like that. And like his brothers, neither wanted the other to get seriously injured or die. 

There are so many instances where Lucifer would be furious and "wish" one of his siblings keeled over, but he didn't mean it. He'd be devastated if he lost any of them. 

Of course, Adam knew that as well. He and Lilith used to be downright nasty to each other, even in Eden, but they'd gang up as soon as someone dared to insult only one of them.

Sibling privilege is where one would be chasing the other with an alligator, then earning a well-deserved kick to the dick. That was Lucifer's first meeting with them, funnily enough. 

Things changed after Eve. More specifically, the event that created her.

Metatron, the utter lunatic, didn't understand how messed up it was to tear out one of Adam's ribs with no warning. He plucked it like a thorn from a rose, and the twins were introduced to true violence for the first time. If not for Lucifer, Lilith would've attacked Meta; she tried damn hard to claw his eyes out for doing that.

Rightfully, the siblings didn't know what to make of Eve. Because of how Meta made her, Adam physically couldn't be away. They were forced to "learn" about her, which they couldn't - Eve wasn't made with a soul. She was an empty slate, merely there to follow commands. 

It's been believed for a long time that Mael was a contingency in case Meta lost his mind, which he never had to begin with. As such, it's logical that the twins would have some of that power, even if a measly fraction of it. None realised this until Adam found a way to split a piece of his already halved soul to give it to Eve.

Astonishingly, it grew into a completely separate one. Like that, Eve became the first whole human soul, and she came alive. 

She went from a blank canvas to an explosion of colour. She was a chaotic little gremlin who bit Lucifer like it was a game, hunting him down and clambering up anything high enough to jump on him. 

Of course, Metatron hated this. He didn't like that Eve was more of a friend or little sister than what she was "supposed" to be.

That's when he used Zuriel to make that tree, making him believe that it'd get Michael to stop being a complete jackass to him, and Meta influenced the process. He corrupted the fruit.

In Lucifer's mind, he imbued his vile, twisted desires, creating sin itself. After all, it was Meta that had Michael behave like a jackass, who convinced Azrael that all souls should be "nudged" towards hell, not properly judged. The evil that killed God himself.

Knowing something was wrong with this tree, God had requested that the humans not eat from it. While Adam and Eve didn't care, they were busy debating who would win between a bear and an orca, Lilith was curious. As Lucifer was getting close to her, he became intrigued as well.

Why would God tell them to stay away from the tree if he could remove it?

As the only one that could - or would, as none of the humans liked Metatron after the creation of Eve - Lucifer tried talking to Metatron.

The bastard said it was a test to see if the humans were too soft or weak to learn more about their place in the world. If they took the apple, they passed the test and could go to heaven. Being an idiot, Lucifer didn't question it as much as he should've, and he told Lilith.

Lilith took an apple and went to find her brother. He thought it was one of her jokes, like when she put hot peppers inside a watermelon, so he wasn't going for it. Believing that he'd warn Eve about the "prank", Lilith asked Lucifer to speak with her instead. 

He enjoyed shapeshifting. He will always enjoy it. He turned into a snake, making it easier to move along the branches, and encouraged Eve to eat one of the fruits.

They had no idea that Metatron had planned for it. They didn't know that they were tainted, that it would cause a corruption that'd sicken Eden.

Lucifer could still see the hurt on Adam's face when God announced that Lilith and Eve had to go for they were "tainted". The little bitch told God that it was Lucifer's fault for tempting the humans. Though Lucifer argued, he wasn't listened to - Metatron convinced God that he did so for his pride and so he could keep Lilith to himself. 

That's when God decided that Lucifer would be banished to Hell alongside Lilith. They were deemed to be the orchestrators of this scheme. Outraged, Zuriel, Seraphiel, Matrial, Raguel, Turiel and Gader'el were banished along with them.

Eve was to go to the mortal realm. Such a separation was necessary for Eden's purity. Not wanting her to be all alone and the threat of eternal agony, Adam went with her. 

Like that, Metatron had split them apart. It was aeons until they got the full story and the twins could reunite, only to be split again. 

A decision that haunted Lilith, even if an arguably necessary one at the time. 

"If only we were heartless jackasses, eh?"

That was something that Lucifer could envy. No matter what, Metatron didn't grieve or feel the loss. It never affected him.

He never felt how terrifying it was to depend on others and vice versa.

"Would make things so much simpler," Adam agreed, drinking the pop.

"Wouldn't have to have such crippling guilt, either."

"Fear for others would be gone."

"Sounds amazing. If absolute apathy were a drug, I'd be an addict."

It's a terrible joke, but you gain a weird sense of humour after hard battles. 

"Sure you would," the human sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Hey! I'd make an amazing junkie!" Lucifer hissed, feigning offence. 

"Lucifer, you thought that cats were addicted to meat and "needed to broaden their horizons". That was after explaining what an obligate carnivore is."

Lucifer's brain blanked on what that was. He wasn't going to let Adam let that know, though.

"I saw Husk eat a salad."

Adam blinked slowly, deciphering Lucifer's words.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Gambler guy."

"He's a feline sinner with wings that used to be a human. Vastly different," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Also, you thought salt and sugar were the same for decades. I think you still do." 

"Salt in tea is delicious!"

He will die by that statement.

"It's an unofficial Geneva convention. Face it, you'd be the lame junkie: a wine football mom." 

"Blasphemy! I could be a big-time dealer."

"Sure, wanted by Interpol for the grand rubber duck trafficking business - the feared El Quacko."

"Almost sounds like Qua-Oh."

"You still owe me for that."

"Probably. I hated those - what did he call them?"

"Djinn. Organic tanks. Those things stank - smelled them before you heard them."

"Maybe that was some psycho-whatever warfare."

"The ultimate stink bomb. At least they were flammable. How many did we set fire to? Twenty?"

"Twenty-three. Lily was very proud of that."

He missed this. Two people talking, remembering times that were equally horrifying and exhilarating. 

It's been so long since Lucifer could talk to somebody that understood. Sure, he had his brothers and sisters, plus Levi's neutral thingy, but they weren't close when Mael was created. 

Mael is almost like the long-dead parent to the twins.

Lucifer helped them figure out what they wanted to be called given that Man and Woman were pretty lame names. He was there when they had their first fight - Lilith broke Adam's nose, and he cracked her shin, all over some nonsensical trivial stupid argument over whether a tiger could hunt a mammoth.

Lily always did like tigers. She would've punched Gabriel in defence of them.

That was also how the term for a female hound became an insult as Lilith didn't like dogs as much as Adam did. He called her a bitch and she cracked his nasal bone. Because of how Eden worked, they couldn't harm each other - the injuries disappeared swiftly. They wouldn't have even felt pain; it was an inconvenience at best during those early days. 

Of course, Metatron ruined that, though they gained the mischievous Eve in the process. 

It's funny how long they've known each other. 

"Do you think Judgement will ever be fixed?" Lucifer asked, pondering. "Gabriel has to have some plan if he arranged this."

"I don't think so. I don't even believe in that redemption crap. It makes Em happy, so fuck it, I guess." 

"Are you like her dad or something?"

"No. If you can believe it, she's Sera's."

"Sera? The Sera? You've got to be kidding. There's no way she had a kid!"

"Delivered her myself. It's incredible how alike she is to your brat. They get on like a house of fire."

"Are you sure you're not her dad?"

"I have standards when it comes to sex, but Sera's even more asexual than Mammon, and that's saying something. She didn't even know she was pregnant."

There's more to that. 

Lucifer is oblivious but he can feel Adam omitting something important there. Whatever it is, there had to be a reason for it.

"You might not be hers, like, bio-whatever, but with how she looks at you... are you sure she doesn't see you as her dad?"

"No. A fuck up like me couldn't be a dad to a kid like that."

"Why not? You raised the exorcists pretty well. You got the Apostles of Dami in with the angels - are both the James still together?"

"Yep. And I'm pretty sure that Sage and Philip are fucking Abbadon. That doesn't mean I could be a dad to someone like Em."

"Have you been there since she was little?"

"Since she was born. It's not like Sera has the emotional capacity for a child. That woman wasn't even upset when Bambi's mom died - I kicked Walt right in the nuts for that one." 

"Good! I sobbed like a baby."

"You are a baby."

"Shut up, you're younger than me!"

"You're not even the size of my leg. You're the baby."

"First of all, fuck you. Secondly, if you've been there since she was born, and you're playing with all of this, why wouldn't she look to you as a dad? I suck as a father but Charlie still... I hope she likes me."

"If she didn't like you, Luci, she would've told you to fuck off."

"Would she, though?"

"Fair point, but Vaggie would've said it for her." 

"What happened with her, anyway? She's missing an eye and down here out of uniform."

"I faked her death because of some bullshit decision that Lilith indirectly caused; I didn't think Lute would take her eye out, but it worked. As far as they know, Selvaggia died."

"Always going out of your way for your soldiers, eh? So little has changed. Does she know that? Because she super hates you."

"No. And unless it's necessary, I'll keep it that way. Everyone needs a person, a scapegoat, to focus their anger and ire on. I'm well-practised. If hating me gives her some semblance of peace, I don't care."

"Making people hate you because you think you deserve isn't fair, not only to yourself but to them."

'Them' being those who care for him, love him and consider him family. To Lucifer, he's a brother in family and arms. There were so many instances where Lucifer should've died if not for his friend, many more where he nearly lost himself to grief.

He and Lily wouldn't have faired as well if not for him. He already knew the horrors of loss. They weren't doing great, but it could've been much worse. 

The sound was gone, lost long ago. It's so silent. He should be so unnerved by that lack of noise, but he felt nothing. A hole kept growing within, invisible hands digging bottomless trenches. 

It's so cold. It's a torrent, an internal flurry bringing frost from the marrow to the pours, spreading like a flame upon accelerant. It sapped all feeling, the hands no longer connected. 

Eyes became deserts, devoid of reprieve, moisture and life. It's so dry, motionless, devoid of any semblance of the former flourishment. It's swept away, cut down within an instant. 

Gone. So far gone. 

How can everything burn to nothingness in a matter of moments?

"He won't talk to anybody."

The voice of Milo, one of the senior cherubs. He and Deerie operated under Gamaliel. 

They did nothing to move the dunes, their voices feeble compared to the hurricane of crushing regret. 

He should've been there, not him. 

It was Lucifer who was supposed to go. He was a coward and because of him, his baby... his sweet darling light was snuffed. 

"Thanks, Mikey."

"My name is Milo."

"Mikey."

"Milo!"

"That's what I said. Mikey."

Lucifer's eyes briefly flicked up, his vision blurred, but he could make out the golden wings of his brother-in-law. They were as grand as the sun, unique compared to all those with the appendages. Not even God had feathers that put pyrite to shame. 

Damian got his name from those once green eyes. With divinity, they turned nearly as gold as those wings.

Green. It was a colour Lucifer equally loved and loathed. 

"Aeshma found this game," his friend said, placing a board before the husk.

"Leave me alone."

The request was rasped and quiet, barely a whisper.

"You know me, Luci - I'm a man of deals. You beat me at this little game, and I leave you be. But if I win, you got to eat whatever the fuck Jophiel's made. I think it's some evil concoction made from orphan tears, but she's assured me it'll fill your tiny ass up." 

There were so many things to unpack there. The promise of being left alone to his mental wandering was the first thing he grasped. 

It's a square board with carved pieces of stone. They had various shapes, all signifying different purposes. There are white and black pieces and the same coloured little squares. 

He didn't care. He only wanted to be left alone.

"I don't want to eat."

"You better win, then. There's some list about how this bullshit is played - I'm not your fucking concubine; you can read it for yourself."

The last time someone did something for him, he lost his light, his purpose for being. 

Lucifer didn't want to accept the sliver of paper thrust into these hands that were no longer his. They moved, but he didn't command them. Though scrubbed raw, he still saw the stale thickening blood of his baby.

Blood that would haunt him for eternity.

It's all his fault.

"Chop chop. I want Jo off my ass."

Clouds bubbled and churned in the scorching sky of grief, an anger that his so-called friend toyed with casually.

There is a king and queen, two knights, two bishops and two rooks that look like towers. There are eight pawns. There's a little arrow showing how they move.

If it made Adam go away, so be it.

Lucifer moved a pawn to e3. He watched as Adam put a piece on c6. Is this some copying game? What's the point of this?

F3 with the right knight was met with c7 from the queen. It confused him.

B3, another pawn, only earned another move from the queen to b6. 

A bishop to d3. The queen goes back to her original place. It didn't make sense.

That stupid smug smirk on Adam's face irritated him. Why did he have that dumb grin? It pissed him off.

He wanted Lucifer to eat, didn't he? Then why isn't he winning? Why is he acting like a jackass?

"Are you mocking me?" Lucifer growled.

"I got no fucking idea what I'm doing."

Sure.

Lucifer moved his king to the right, watching him move another pawn - g5. Per the rules of this stupid time waster, Lucifer's knight can capture this pawn piece. Displaying a smug-like sneer, Lucifer snatched that pawn.

One thing closer to getting this asshole away from him in this awful time.

Adam calmly put the queen back onto c7. He hardly looked concerned. 

Fine. A bishop to a3. 

His unwelcome companion brought his knight to a6. That didn't make any sense! Per the rules, Lucifer can take that with his bishop. It had to be a ploy! Some trickery to make Lucifer lose faster.

He's getting this dickhead out one way or another. 

Lucifer brings his bishop to b2, waiting for what Adam makes of that. He picks up his knight and places it on b4, before one of Lucifer's pawns. 

No. Fuck that.

The frustration grows as he takes another of Adam's pieces, taking his bishop to the right rook-tower thingy. With little more than a smile, Adam took his other bishop with the horse knight thing. 

Fuck him. He takes that damn horse with a little pawn. 

Adam pushes a pawn forward by one with a single finger, keeping his eye on Lucifer's bloodshot pair. With d6 taken, it's Lucifer's turn again.

A white pawn to f4. A black one comes to meet it at f6.

A white pawn to b4. A black pawn knocks off Lucifer's knight at g5.

That's three for Lucifer and two for Adam.

"I have more than you. Go already."

"Checkmate wins, Luci."

"I hate you."

"You'll probably hate this soup crap more. Too bad, huh?"

Lucifer brought his queen to h5, inching closer to that pesky little king piece. Meanwhile, Adam moved his king to d7. 

He takes another of Adam's pawns at g5, wishing he'd give up already. Another black pawn is moved to d5. 

So, that's it, huh? Move all the pieces closer to Lucifer's king, and make false openings to lure him into some false sense of victory - it's bullshit.

A knight to c3, blocking a gap between a pair of pawns. Despite this blockade, Adam merely moves another pawn forward by one onto e6. 

This asshole is planning something. Glaring, he takes his knight to d5, swiping away another piece. Using his pinky finger, a pawn takes his last knight.

Son of a whore!

The king goes to g1, protecting it from direct assault. His opponent takes the queen to d6, another worthless move. 

His rook comes to f1, shielding it from all sides. And another worthless move, the queen goes to e7. 

"Stop fucking around."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're not trying to win. I know you're not."

"I'm a man of my deals, Luci."

"You're trying to make me give in!"

"It's certainly an option I considered, but I doubt it." 

Lucifer brings a pawn to h4 and observes how Adam makes another pointless move, a pawn to b6. There's no point! No advantage! 

It's so frustrating and irritating!

"Play the fucking game, Adam."

"I am playing."

"You're pissing me off is what you're doing!"

"That's just part of my natural charm."

Rook to h3. Like a total jackass, Adam, again, makes a nothing move! A pawn on the other side of the board moves to a6.

Why!? What is the purpose other than making Lucifer punch him in his stupid smug face?

Pawn to g6 - make a move that isn't fucking pointless!

Adam takes a pawn, again, and brings it to d4.

"I'm going to kill you."

"You love me too much."

"They'll never find your body."

"You'll need to eat if you want the strength to do that."

"I can bench press you."

"Hmmm. I doubt that."

Adam smiled, his gold eyes following Lucifer's move of a pawn to g7. With another smug show, he takes the pawn with a bishop. 

Finally, an actual move!

Lucifer uses his bishop in h8 to take Adam's own. It felt good replacing the g7 spot. That feeling was brief, however, as Adam's queen swiftly swiped it. 

A white rook to f2, and his rook moves onto b8. 

Quickly, Lucifer claims d4, taking another of Adam's irritating pawns! 

Once again, the victory barely lasted as that queen swiftly took its place. 

He's poked the bear with a stick, and now Adam's playing. Asshole!

"You are mocking me!"

"My sister does all of that for me. On you go."

"Fuck you!"

He takes the queen to d1, aiming to protect the king piece. And like the total asshole he is, Adam picks up his queen as well. It goes to f2, claiming his rook and dangerously close to the king.

Hastily, Lucifer takes the king to h2, hiding it behind his rook. With no hesitation, Adam captures his rook. 

The queen is exposed, so Lucifer takes it, but Adam isn't concerned. 

The king goes to h1, far away from Adam's pieces. Alas, he was foolish to think that. 

One of Adam's bishops took Lucifer's final rook, far too close to the king for comfort. Those can only go diagonal, can't they? So the king should be safe if he keeps it there.

What the fuck is he even doing?

Why is he entertaining his bullshit?

"It's something Eve used to do," Adam said, his eyes wandering over the board. "She'd make these games. Most were fairly simple - find where she hid the eggs, for example. Little things to get me out of my head."

"Pissing me off is a game?"

"It's a weird concept - the process and cycle of grief. You don't exactly accept that they're gone, it barely feels real. It's more that you find a level of loss you can tolerate the most to function. It's a chronic pain that never goes away, like losing an arm or something. A tiny break from the cascade of crap can make it a bit smoother at times." 

That's all this is? Something to give Lucifer a break from the crushing emptiness that threatened to eat him alive.

He wasn't trying to win. He probably was open to losing on purpose if it gave Lucifer just a few moments out of his head. 

"Does it ever stop?"

"No," Adam said honestly, adding another knife to Lucifer's soul. The honesty, however, made the sting less prominent. " You wake up the day after, even a few months after, praying it was a nightmare. You go through the routine, you make eight plates instead of seven... you go to call for their name before catching yourself at the last second. It's the little things that cut the deepest. The hardest part isn't just that they die, it's that they stay dead. The love never goes away - if anything, it only grows despite the absence, and that's one hell of a bitch to deal with." 

Lucifer threw the board, yelling angrily. He felt so much anger that it burned. He stood, growling as so many feelings rushed him. 

He should've been there!

"I don't want some fucking break or food or whatever - I want my baby! I want my little boy!"

Lucifer wanted Adam to be angry, to react and fight. Anything to make this burning go away, to fill the emptiness with just something.

The pure unfiltered empathy - true empathy, not mere sympathy - was another needle in the sowing cushion. 

One of the only people who knew what Lucifer felt was right here.

The desert felt rain fall, bringing an oasis of torment and anguish.

A giant wing enveloped Lucifer, shielding him from the outside world. He was brought against a far larger body, a source of warmth against the crippling cold. It forced fluid from his tired eyes, and pain converted into salty water.

"I miss him so much..."

"I miss him too," his friend said, using those wings to give Lucifer the privacy and peace to cry like a frightened child. "I'm so sorry, Luci."

He was sorry, too. 

If only he could tell his baby he was sorry.

"When has anything about us been fair? Fairness died alongside God. Probably long before him, too." 

That's something Lucifer couldn't deny.

Fairness. It ceased to be the moment Metatron was formed.

Grief is a horrid thing. It's a scar that lingers, attaching to your shadow. When every loss is so personal like those cute exorcist girls, it cuts deep.

The turns have been tabled, and Lucifer is the superior stable one.

Lucifer shall provide a brief respite in this flurry of regrets, just as his friend had aeons ago. 

"I'm going to offer you a deal."

"Oh fuck, no," the man groaned, covering his face. "You can't deal for shit."

"Excuse me! I can barter as well as anyone!"

"Mammon swindled you out of your three-headed goose with a game of Scrabble."

"I refuse to accept that decant is a word. That bug fucker made that up so I'd lose!"

"I'll put it in a sentence - get over it before I decant your pea-brain from your skull. See? It's a word."

"I'll decant your balls."

"Close enough, shorty." 

"Shut it, fat fuck. I'm trying to do a good thing here!"

"We're doomed."

"It's bothering you, so I wanted to repay that favour - some chess between us. I'm not nearly as awful as I used to be."

"Favour?" the man questioned, confused. "Luci, you don't owe me shit for that. I was one of the only semi-godlike assholes that had any idea how you felt - it's different for everyone, though. Damian was a lot older than Abel when we lost him."

He regretted never meeting those kids, not even Caine. He had no idea where any of them were in hell. It's a possibility that an extermination got them first, which is a harrowing thing to consider. 

It's nice, though. He would always feel indebted for that act of compassion and kindness. It was a very dark time for him back then.

As Adam said, some days are worse than others. He's finding where he can cope with Damian's absence.

No matter how hard you beg a long-dead god, there's no fixing it. 

"What was he like? Abel."

"A lot like Eve, but he had some of Lily's characteristics - her calm before the storm. He slept like the dead as a baby and would laugh until he threw up whenever he saw someone wiggle their toes. There was a confusing phobia of being clothed until three. He was always eager to be in your shadow, following, and learning, and he never stopped asking what we were doing. He used to climb between Eve and me whenever there was a thunderstorm - I had to sing him to sleep when it was bad." 

"That sounds like you. Remember your first reaction to a spider? You nearly jumped out of your skin."

"Lily said she found a new fruit and had me close my eyes, only to put a wolf spider in my mouth. I had every right to lose my mind when that Goliath Birdeater wandered past us like it had a fucking mortgage." 

That was a hilarious moment. He didn't know they could scream so highly pitched together. 

In fairness, Lucifer yelped right with them, terrified of it. 

How funny that Mammon became an even bigger spider. 

"So? You up to losing a game to little me?"

"If I win, you let me sleep in tomorrow."

"And if I win, you must make a little rubber ducky for me."

"I see we're going with cruel and unusual punishment today."

"Don't be so dramatic. You want white or black pieces?"

"I'll kick your ass either way."

"Ha! No half-assing my new ducky."

"We'll see, short stuff."

Game on.

If only he could have more moments like this, just them. It made something in his chest go warm and silly. 

Chapter Text

What's a better way to accept a horrific defeat at chess than watching the sunrise? 

Sitting with your best friend certainly adds a cherry atop that banana split. Or is it a sundae? He doesn't understand human euphemisms. 

Although hell is always red, there are differing shades. When the "sun" - a construct Lucifer made to give the semblance of a sunrise - set and rose, the sky was as vivid as freshly spilt blood. 

There's a morbid beauty, although it's not like Lucifer can see much else. He's not allowed to see Heaven or the mortal realm. The other rings aren't any better.

It's only enjoyable with others. 

"I never asked," Lucifer said, his eyes on the reddish skies above. "What'll happen when you find her? Eve."

Adam's tail briefly paused in its movements, one of its many unintended tells. 

He's thinking about the question carefully, regardless of their "light" drinking. It was only a few shots, nothing that would touch Adam's tolerance.

"I don't know," the first man admitted. "I can feel her, Luci. I can feel that she's out there somewhere. It's that pull." 

It's not just the emotional one, either. It was Metatron's design, after all. Never would his friend know a semblance of peace or a painless day. 

What Lucifer wouldn't give to take that away. 

He knew an easy way to end that perpetual suffering, but it would cost him two of the people he loved so dearly. They have been by Lucifer's side longer than even Beelzebub and she was the first to stick up for him. 

So few had a special place in Lucifer's soul. The living ones didn't hit double digits. 

The ring on his finger felt so heavy, more than usual. 

"I... don't know if I can take Lily back," he sighed, looking upon the poorly shaped metal. He made it himself, after all. "I love her, Adam. I love her so much, but she left us. She left Charlie."

"A small solace for me is that Abel died by accident. That's a luxury neither of you had." 

Although an odd way of saying it, Lucifer appreciated it nonetheless.

"Would you have done the same?"

"In the same situation? Yes. When it comes to our family, we two are fucking idiots - self-sacrificing, unintentionally selfish, blinded by determination and fucking stubborn. I know my sister better than anyone - we share the same soul for fuck sake - she won't blame you if you can't accept her when she eventually pulls her blonde head out of her ass."

It was said with such conviction that it briefly made Lucifer consider something more than Lilith. That felt wrong, even though it was her that left. 

She left their ring behind. She didn't speak to him after leaving. She ghosted all of Hell for nearly eight years on a suicide mission.

There was a chance that she wasn't even alive. No, she was still out there. Though they don't know how it works, it's mostly agreed that if one twin dies, the other gets the rest of their soul. He knew his friend was still only half.

Not that having but half of a soul diminished the person his friend was. If anything, he was admirable for what he accomplished with only half. 

"Do you know where Mael's name came from?" Adam said suddenly, confusing the King of Hell. "His name was supposed to be Sandalphon, but he decided to be named after you. It's the only memory of him I have, and I only got that because of this," he furthered, moving his tail. 

In the brief moment that Mael returned, they left behind a memory. That was far from what Lucifer was expecting.

His angelic name was Samael. The first human wanted to be named after him. 

Somehow, Lucifer earned the favour of all three.

"I didn't. You never mentioned it before." 

"We're talking about deep shit here. And you knew him. Them. Whatever the fuck Mael went with. I don't know what Lily saw, though. I know it involves Meta somehow."

"Do you think it influenced her decision to leave?"

"It's entirely possible."

What could Lilith have seen? She's never mentioned such a thing. 

All she would ever say about the event was that it was one of the biggest mistakes of her life, and she's made her share. It broke her when Adam refused to reconcile. 

It's not like Lucifer would ever understand. It must've been terrifying. The one you trust the most dragging you into a fusion, briefly killing what made you, you. As Mael, neither of them could exist; it was a murder-suicide, no matter how temporary. 

That was a violation that he couldn't begin to fathom. He didn't blame Adam for being so distrustful afterwards, nor Lilith for her guilt. 

Did she see something that made her think she could take over Mael? It's doubtful, but nothing is impossible.

"We want our ex-wives back, but not... not like we used to," Lucifer deduced, feeling a heavy weight lift from his hand but settle in his heart. "I still love her. I love her so much it hurts... but I can't forgive her for leaving. I can't forgive what she wanted to do. I'm scared that if I took her back, she'd leave again."

A giant golden wing enveloped Lucifer, pulling him closer to the giant beside him. 

"I'm scared too," the first man continued, a faint tremble in his voice. "That she won't recognise me, or she'll hate what I am now. I'm not a good man, Luci. Maybe I was in life, but not now. I haven't been for centuries." 

"A whole lot more people would disagree if you didn't act like a total dickhead to them. But that'd defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? You automatically associate genuine affection and kindness with bullshit. Anger is a lot harder to fake."

"Jophiel says that in a whole lot more fancy schmancy lingo. I prefer the short and sweet."

"Because I am short and sweet!"

"Guess that makes me tall and bitter. Or greasy."

"Why greasy?"

"I'm overweight, dingus," he grumbled. "Good ol' addictions. Lose one, get another. It's fucking criminal how comforting food is." 

As emphasis, he lifted the jacket to grab some of his softness. Although it was fair for him to be somewhat insecure about the extra weight, Lucifer didn't mind it. If anything, he preferred a bit of plush. He used to love how thick Lilith's thighs were, like pillows he could nap on.

Lucifer couldn't help his tail as it curled, the pointed tip wiggling with intrigue. 

"I wouldn't say that's a downside. You're all soft, like a big teddy bear."

"A fucking what?" the former human questioned, baffled. 

"A bear! Huge, heavy, dangerous but so squishy! Plus, Lilith didn't get all the good looks. It's a bonus."

"Huh." 

"What? Has nobody else pointed that out?"

"No. I mean... I got comments about my weight before, but only about losing it, never that it's a plus or whatever." 

"Heaven remains blind and stupid, I see."

"Oh, I already knew that. As the wise George Carlin said, "Imagine how stupid the average person is then realize half of all people are stupider than that." I'm so pissed that Hell got him over us." 

"I mean, it's not like there's a fair system. Most come here, don't they?"

"True, but I can still be pissed. It's true, though. We're all stupid, and some are that much more stupid. At least one of us is in the first half."

"Hey!"

"I wasn't referring to you."

"Awww. Wait... Hey! You're not stupid!"

"My atrocious decisions would say otherwise."

Lucifer stood, though that barely did much. He only reached Adam's chest, even with the angel sitting. 

Wanting more leverage, he hopped onto the man's lap, crossing his arms. To Adam, he must look like an angry child or a tantrum-throwing toddler. 

"Adam Margolis Morningstar you take that back!"

He looked more confused than anything.

"Morningstar is your thing, Luci."

"You're in this family, asshole. Cope. Now, take it back!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why!? You're the smartest dumbest person I know."

"That's an oxymoron and you're a moron."

"See? I don't even know what an ox moron is!" the King stated, trying to look serious. 

"You're like a K-pop body pillow given sentience. Hardly intimidating."

"What the Hell is K-pop?"

"South Korean pop. Though you're closer to Kim Soo-Hyun than Jin - Imogen's fucking obsessed with it," the angel elaborated, shrugging slightly. "I'm more Black Sabbath than BlackPink. Still, it's better than Buffy's taste - who the fuck listens to Yoko Ono?"

Lucifer was baffled. He barely knew Korea was a country; is there a north, east and west part of Korea, too? It's not the first time Adam referred to him as resembling someone of that geographical area of Earth, though it's much more specific today. 

Who is Yoko Ono? What is BlackPink? He knows of Black Sabbath because Adam enjoys that sort of music.

Plus, how can the devil not know of "devil music"? It's a dramatic comparison. What did Lucifer have to do with heavy metal, metal and rock?

He liked blues and soul, a smidge of opera and most violin-involved songs. He quite liked Lilith's taste - she said it was called Jazz. They were never allowed to play it whenever others were over, however. As Mammon and Satan said, it was akin to the final breath of God, a sorrowful and painful sound.

At least she could enjoy it with Asmodeus. 

The devil blinked, realising that Adam had completely diverted the conversation to avoid acknowledging Lucifer's demands.

Tricky bastard.

"Nice to know, but I'm still waiting for that apology, Mister."

"I'm not apologising unless it's genuine."

"Well... that's fair, but I still don't like it. An idiot couldn't kick my ass at chess every game."

"They can."

"Hush, I'm complimenting you and you'll accept it!"

The false sun behind Lucifer gave a magnificent shine, indicating that the day was soon to begin. The light caught that faded green eye in a curious way, and those piercings... they sparkled like stars. 

Somehow, the unamused grumpy eyebrow raise wasn't as annoying as it should've been. 

In such light, you can see more of his naturally tanned skin around the edges of paleness. Why he lacked melanin in so many places, they had no idea. It was one of Lilith's favourite aspects that she was slightly envious of. 

"You daydreaming again?"

The devil shook his head, brushing away the intricacies of his mismatched skin. He wanted to draw on it, make a little map or outline the pale patches compared to the regular skin. 

He saw another thing shine, too.

Without any awareness of personal space, he casually pushed his fingers into the larger entity's mouth, pulling down his jaw to see his tongue.

Fortunately, Adam was used to Lucifer's antics. Nobody else would get away with such a thing, besides maybe Emily. Then again, Eve was always a handsy gremlin.

A shiny silver ball stared back at the King.

"I want one of these!" he grinned, sticking out his serpentine tongue at the thought. 

He let go, eagerly awaiting instructions on how to acquire this piercing.

"My stuff's at my place. I'll do it later."

"For real!"

"Yea. And you can get that tattoo you wanted, whatever design you're going for. Let me guess - a duck?"

"So, you'll bring that stuff here? We'll do it at my palace; that cyclops is trying, but this is far from sterile or however clean it's supposed to be for this."

"Easier if you just come over to mine."

"I'm not allowed in heaven."

"If I got to wear that stupid fucking robe thing to look all official and crap, I can do whatever the fuck I want. You'll come to my place and if Sera or Gabe get pissy, then tough tits for them!"

Lucifer quite liked the robes. It looked comfortable. 

That sounded like Adam, breaking the rules if he considered them inconvenient or unnecessary. And it isn't like the rule can be enforced given that God is dead.

He's only going for premium body mod care, nothing else. 

"I have a feeling that Em is very much the same."

"Of course. I taught her a lot of stuff that Sera can't know about, though her dealmaking is a tragedy. At least she knows not to trade her soul away. I doubt Charlie, though. Naive is in bold letters above her head."

"Yeah, we went too far in the other direction - coddling and overprotectiveness. I just wanted her to be happy."

"We're dads. It's our job to want them to be happy and safe. She needs a lot of help and severely underestimates how difficult rehabilitation is, but she's got spirit, I'll give her that."

"That's pretty damn high praise from you. She'd appreciate it a lot."

"Probably."

He won't, though. It'd defeat the point of keeping her at a distance.

Especially not right now, grieving for someone Lucifer probably never met. The exorcists were important to his dear friend; they were almost like children to him, relying on him for everything until they were ready to find their own identity. 

It's been long since a ceremonial send-off for a divine militant - before her demise, Raphael named it the Lazarus. It was tradition to do so for every fallen. The first was in memory of God, of all he sacrificed for them. 

Officially, the last was putting Gadreel to rest. He'd hated that day, looking at the abandoned armour. It felt wrong to leave it to decay and rust in the ground, so Lucifer kept it. 

"When is it? The Lazarus for Reagan?" Lucifer asked, doing his best to read his close ally.

"Saturday. Reagan dropped by my place to watch Star Wars on Saturdays - she had a thing for Padme and Leia's characters. I agree with her on Leia, but Obi-Wan is way more interesting than Padme." 

Lucifer blinked, having no idea what that was. Did Lilith mention it before? She must've. 

He didn't know these things. 

If he voiced that, however, Adam would make him watch all of this Star Wars stuff. He learned that mistake after Mammon learned he hadn't heard of Lord of the Rings; the sin of greed adored that stuff and something about a metal throne game thingy. 

No matter how much Mam explained it, Lucifer had no idea what was happening. All he could recall was that the eighth season of the main show was garbage. Dear hells, Mam rivalled Satan in wrath when that came out. 

"Would it be too dangerous for Vaggie to go? That was her sister."

"Nothing would keep me from Lily's, no matter how much she frustrates me. She'll go. If Charlotte wants to go with her, I don't care. Reagan would've loved her anyway." 

"Will the Apostles go?"

"I'd be surprised if they didn't. John'll probably prepare everyone's eulogies and stuff."

"You'd probably take up a whole hour."

"I'm not doing one."

"What?" Lucifer said, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"When you've buried more people than you can count, you find you've reused too many words, similes and phrases - there's nothing I could say that I haven't repeated thousands of times before. I'll tell her goodbye on my own."

That made some sense. Though Lucifer wouldn't fully understand, he felt sympathy. 

He wished that he met Reagan. Whoever she was, she left a big impact on his friend. All his exorcists were so important to him; it felt like a disservice not knowing their names.

Lucifer knew Vaggie, but he was a blank on the others. 

"I was never good with goodbyes. I struggle with a lot of stuff like that. It astounds me that Charlie turned out as well as she did with an emotionally incompetent shitty imbecile like me as her dad."

There was a brief quiet. It felt so thick and tight, something that Lucifer couldn't decipher. 

He wasn't even thinking about how he was still standing on the other man's lap. A large wing brushed against his back, pushing him closer to his friend's chest.

Seven rings, Adam's body was so soft and warm. It's plushy, like a beanbag begging to be napped on. He could feel the hard muscle beneath the softness, but that invited security, not discomfort. 

"You're a lot of things, Luce. You might be small, but don't sell yourself short," came his friend's voice, the words vibrating through his smaller body. "You raised two empathetic, bold, stubborn, determined and ambitious kids. As Lily's been gone the last seven years, a lot of the woman Charlotte's grown into is your handiwork, small fry. You're a good father, dumbass."

Fluid burned in the devil's eyes, never knowing how much he wanted to hear that. Someone thought that his efforts were enough, even though he went so far wrong in his endeavour to keep his baby girl safe. He was so scared of losing her that he sheltered her.

Even so, she became like her older brother, fighting the same fight, seeking justice and equity. She stood tall, offering kindness and compassion to those that didn't deserve it. 

Though he felt bad hiding his face in the Metallica shirt, he didn't want to look up at those mismatched eyes, the pair that always saw through him, even when Lilith couldn't. 

He hated how they made his lips feel dry, how his damned heart would race and heat rise. He could feel that tingly sensation, the ache, the need to do something but it never made sense. 

There was a vague similarity to how he felt with Lilith some time ago, but it's also so different. 

"You good, Luci?"

The concern struck Lucifer deep in a place he wasn't used to. 

A large hand lifted Lucifer's head, bringing him to those gold and green eyes. The faded one, despite having such poor vision, still tried to navigate what could've made Lucifer start to cry. 

"Y-yeah. Just needed to hear that," the devil nodded, shivering. He wiped his eyes, unable - or unwilling - to move the hand away. "Why're you so warm?"

"Gabe said that I'm the sun and Lily's the moon or some shit - I run hot," the angel answered, moving that hand from his face to his shoulder. "Let's go in. I got a day to sleep through, and you're babysitting Em - that's the deal."

"At least the snake won't be nearly pissing himself all day," Lucifer joked, wishing he didn't miss that hand on his face. 

Lucifer doesn't understand what's causing this. 

Asmodeus always knew how the body worked and why it reacted to certain things. He'll ask Ozzie.

He didn't want to let go. He wanted to stay in the warmth. That was an odd thing to desire when you're in hell. 

The devil jumped from the angel's lap, watching as he rose, towering over him. 

He transformed himself into a duck, settling onto his companion's shoulder. He was wary to keep a distance from his neck, though. Damn Meta for ruining any form of contact there. 

The fact that Adam didn't have an "Adam's apple" always amused Lucifer. He wanted to compare how it felt against the other humans, but the damage was done by then. Would it feel smooth or would there be a small something there? He wanted to know.

In time, maybe.

Hopefully.