Adam

You have a different name to the one you first remember. It's so very different that it's a struggle to associate the two in your head. It's much easier to go by the nicknames that've been bestowed upon you, especially the one that means so very much to your dad. Pip.

‘My little apple pip,' he used to coo, dancing around the room with your in his arms as Charlie stumbled after you both, laughing and giggling. After all, your father's Lucifer; juggling two babies at the same time was hardly a strain on his powers, so making a game of it all had been for the best.

Those halcyon days have passed by now, smudged and faded around the edges but the feeling is just as crisp, just as clear as when you'd experienced it. For all the complaints you might have had about being reborn (about just where you've been reborn), you have no grievances for the father you've been gifted.

Yes, the past seven years have been hard, what with Lucifer spiralling into a depression so thick it'd been difficult to hold a conversation with him, let alone get him to accomplish anything. It'd been what'd pushed you into finally striking out on your own, into finally showcasing a mote of interest in the world beyond your family home.

Charlie's the extrovert, not you. Charlie's the one who have big dreams, who wants to push through, who has ‘how can we improve' and ‘how can I make things better' bouncing off the tip of her tongue.

That's not the kind of questions you like asking.

You much prefer the whys. Why are sinners eternally damned once they're here? Why is there nothing beyond being dropped in Hell and that's it? Why is Hell's supposed overpopulation Heaven's problem? Why are they so invested in their exterminations? Why is your dad not invested in this domain he's supposed to govern?

Why had Lilith left Lucifer, left you and Charlie both, without a word?

Why were you placed here? Why had someone or something looked upon you and decided you deserved to be here, reborn as a citizen or not?

You act on these whys. You sneak about, not as yourself but disguised in a way only those taught magics by Lucifer could, exploring the world but never opening yourself up to it. Most of the Pride Ring seem to have forgotten about you entirely, the majority seem to believe that there is only one Morningstar heir.

You prefer it that way really. As you move through the winding, crowded streets of the Pride Ring, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. Throughout the latest few years of your life, you've become accustomed to your father's apathy and your sister's boundless energy, but the questions that plague you are a constant weight on your shoulders. It's why you'd stepped away, why you'd dropped off of the map, so to speak.

Finding Mum had been your goal.

Lilith had disappeared seven years ago, leaving Lucifer a note of all things, stating she was going. No explanation why, no reason as to why she was leaving. Just that she was. She's ignored every one of your phone calls, ignored all of Charlie's too, and even the semi-omnipotent Lucifer had been unable to locate her.

But the way her absconding has affected your father -sending him spiralling into a black pit of depression that you'd only ever been able to shine your light into, not help him out of- and your sister -who began to constantly second guess herself, who began to suffer a crippling lack of self-confidence- had set your course.

So, you'd spent seven years trailing through Hell, seven years looking for a single clue. And, despite the personal growth you'd experienced... you'd found nothing.

Found nothing, and missed a shit-loads, it seems.

You stop by the storefront, staring at the TV station as that bitch Katie Killjoy continues her report/rant on how Heaven's extermination is cancelled (?) because Charlie did something useful for once (what a bitch this woman is) and that Adam has been slain. As you watch Katie's report, you can't help but feel a surge of anger towards her arrogance and condescension towards your sister. You've always known she was selfish and arrogant, but this takes it to a whole new level.

You consider confronting her, but you know it would be pointless. She's just like all the other sinners in hell; unaware or uncaring about self-reflection and she'd probably only laugh Charlie out of the room if she were to bring it up to her. You have no desire to try for something that is only destined to experience failure.

Still, you feel your heart catch in your throat when the segment goes on to explain how Lucifer (your dad, that's your dad!) has reappeared and put a stop to it all.

That he's shown an interest, that he's tried at all-

The grin on his face in the candid photograph of him makes your heart clench, makes your stomach light. It's the brightest you've seen him in years.

In a mad scramble, you dig about in your pocket, wiggling your phone free and switching it on. As you stand there, waiting for the electronic to boot up, you try to count back to the last time you'd bothered turning it on... Six... Seven months ago maybe? You'd only sent out a 'I'm safe' message after the last extermination before switching it back off again. As you wait for your phone to boot up, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. You're happy to see your father taking an interest in something, but you're also worried about what this might mean for Charlie and the Happy Hotel... Hazbin Hotel. It's had a name change, you note, watching the broadcast that doesn't seem to have anything else to report on. Of course it doesn't; yesterday was supposed to be extermination day. Only an idiot would have been out of the streets and, for all that your father had brokered that deal for Hellborn to be exempted from it... well, no one trusts Heaven.

Your phone pings back on, hundreds of alerts, messages and notifications popping up, one after the other. The latest one is from Dad, begging to know that you're okay, for a sign. Guilt washes through your bones, making you swallow, hard.

It takes but a moment for you to type out a quick 'I'm fine, are you?'.

You're not expecting for your phone to start ringing the moment you send it though. As your phone begins to ring, your heart skips a beat. You see your father's name displayed on the screen, and you hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. You haven't spoken to him in months, and now he's calling you out of the blue. You take a deep breath and answer the call.

"Pip!" The excited exclamation thunders down the receiver, almost clawing at your ear with its sheer volume. It's enough to have you holding the phone away from your head, grimacing into the glass shopfront. Even the nearest passing demon has turned, what might pass as an eyebrow ticked up in surprise.

"Hi Dad," you greet, cautiously putting the phone back to your ear. It's certainly a… thing. An experience -that's probably the word you want- to listen to your father's excited greeting, preppy and cheerful, as you watch the news footage of him in full demon form kicking the shit out of some uppity angel.

You pause, looking a bit closer. Because… isn't that Adam? The Adam?

It is!

You have no hope of burying the smile that blooms across your face as you watch the footage, listening to your dad ramble on about the extermination being over (like it isn't his fault it's suddenly ground to a halt!) and how it's been ever so long since he last saw you.

"I could pop around?" You offer, swallowing your suddenly dry tongue because, for all that you've been gone for years, you don't really have anything to show for your absence. Just a long list of places your mother isn't. "If you're home, that is?"

"I'm helping Charlie re-build her hotel, Pips. Hey! Why don't you drop by and see it? It's a sight, and I know Charlie misses you too!" That's no surprise. For all that you text her and occasionally exchange phone-calls, you've not actually seen your sister since… well, since Mum disappeared with only a note left to prove she existed. As your father invites you to visit the Hazbin Hotel, you can't help but feel a pang of excitement mixed with apprehension. You've been away for a while, and although you've kept in touch with Charlie, you aren't sure how receptive she'll be to you potentially visiting.

"Are… are you sure Charlie will want me there, Dad?"

"Of course, of course she will!" your father assures you, still sounding cheerful and optimistic. "She's always missed you, Pip, and I'm sure she'd love to see you again. Besides, I could use the help with the rebuilding. It's been tough work, let me tell you. And, out of the two of you, you were always the most receptive to my magic lessons. My good little apple!"

Now that does bring a smile to your face. Learning at your father's feet, you aptitude for magic, had always been a glowing point of pride for you.

"Okay. I'll come over tomorrow then… love you, Dad."

"I love you too, my little apple pip!" And then he's gone, disappearing off to no doubt being magic and wonder into your sister's life. And you stand there, staring blankly at the TV monitor that is now focused on Katie Killjoy again, your heart (if there's one in this demon body) back flipping again and again.

Because, because Dad sounded good. He sounded happy, sounded full of life. He clearly wasn't disassociating, is very much present. And maybe it's too much to hope for but… fuck. You hope there's a chance you might have your dad back now.

Losing him to his depression after Mum vanished has been crushing.

Turning on heel, you begin to slowly make your way back to your apartment when something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

Over by the entrance to an alleyway, you're sure you just saw something. You cautiously approach the entrance to the alleyway, your senses on high alert. As you peek around the corner, you spot a figure huddled against the wall, shivering. More alarmingly, there's a small pool of brilliant red blood beginning to gather where they're sitting, the scent of iron twisting through the air.

"Holy shit," you hiss beneath your breath, stepping into the alley (but keeping a hand up and ready, just in case), "are you alright?"

"Do I fucking look alright, dumbass?" the figure hisses, glaring up at you with brilliant golden eyes that're illuminated in a dark face. They're in full demon-mode, probably in part due to the fact they've been hurt and are no doubt stressed, so you brush off what would otherwise have been considered a social blunder.

"Okay, okay, sorry," you hold up your hands in a placating gesture. "Look, I'm here to help. What happened to you?"

The demon scowls but doesn't immediately lash out or flee. Instead, they seem to consider your offer of help for a moment before shrugging.

"I'm not supposed to be here— should be back in Heaven by now."

"Back in Heaven?" you repeat, stressing the ‘back' even as you take in the dark horns, the smug as shit voice and—

And you know who this is.

"Holy shit," you blurt out, hastily lowering your voice even as you get (foolishly) closer because you just can't believe it. "Adam?" Adam, the first man alive, and the ex-leader of the exterminators, looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Yeah, it's me, shithead," Adam grunts, rolling his eyes.

And yet, in spite of his words, he's doesn't seem all there. His eyes are vacant, staring off into the distance though, we're you not so used to Dad's own depression, not used to the way a person can check out of reality, you probably wouldn't have noticed. Not with how Adam's eyes are styled anyway.

Slowly (and really fucking cautious because this is the head of the exterminators, a group who only avoid making a target of you because of a deal brokered by your father), you squat down in front of Adam in an attempt to get a better look at him.

He looks like shit, to put it bluntly. It's harder than you'd have expected to tell, but you're relatively certain he's got a black eye equivalent, and he's oozing blood from the corners of his mouth, from his left nostril and some kind of wound under his clothes.

His exterminator clothes, you belatedly realise. Had ne mange to escape death after all?

No, that's not right; they News had been pretty clear on it. So… what's going on? How is he here, before you now? Has he pulled himself back together (and done a really shitty job of it) like all other demons can? But then, he isn't a demon, is he?

Adam, the first man, is an angel.

An angel who's bleeding red, not gold. An angel who isn't wearing a mask but is in demon form, whose wings are dyed black where you once knew them to be white.

It's down to your favourite question, isn't it?

Why?

Why is he here, why is he ‘alive', why is he a demon? Why, why, why?

And that's what prompts you.

"Do you want some help?"

"Fuck off." Adam snaps, his tone harsh and unyielding. He doesn't even look at you, just continues to stare off into nothingness. Clearly, he isn't in the mood for your help or even company.

Well, tough shit. The man doesn't look like he could fight off an imp right now, never mind take you in a fight. Besides–

"If anyone out on that street spots you, you're gonna get the shit beaten out of you–" You pause, giving him another once over. "–more than you already have, anyway." And, because clearly you have more of your father's dreams in you than you thought, you strike, stepping forward, grabbing Adam's arm, and hefting it over your shoulder as you stand. It's all done so quickly that Adam doesn't even realise he's being hauled up until he's already on his feet.

"Wha– hey! Get the fuck off!"

"Come back to me with your demands when you can do more than just squirm," you grumble, adjusting your grip as Adam tries to shove against you and fails miserably. Man, he might not have actually been slain (or maybe he was?) but he sure as hell has been on the losing end of that fight.

"Listen, you fucking bitch, I don't need your help!" Adam snarls, struggling against your grip. But it's no use. You're stronger than you look, and he's clearly not in his prime.

"Oh, I don't think you do," you retort, rolling your eyes. Your sarcasm is so thick, so blunt, that even he can pick up on it, a scowl overtaking his distinctive features which, come to think of it, are going to be a problem. He's in no state to reel in his full form though, is he?

Gritting your teeth and casting a furtive glance towards the entrance of the alley, you give a wave of your hand and allow an illusion to settle over the both of you, until you're just two regular demons stumbling back from a late night (early morning) on the town. As the illusion takes hold, you lead Adam out of the alleyway and onto the bustling streets of Hell. The city is a chaotic mess, with demons of all shapes and sizes jostling for space and shouting curses at each other.

And this is a day when there's been nothing but good news.

"What the fuck- where they fuck are you taking me?"

"Somewhere that's safer than you being on the streets teeming with demons who'd love nothing more than to tear you apart." You trudge onwards, ignoring the way Adam (evidently still out of it) mutters about how he'll 'tear those demons apart' and that they 'won't get a chance to lay a finger on his awesome might', totally ignoring the way you've strong-armed him into going where you want.

A small handful of demons cast quick glances your way, as if curious, but none of them see through your guise. As you head for your apartment, the latest question in a seemingly unending parade marches through your mind, though this one is admittedly fronted by a new opener.

What the fuck are you going to do with an ex-angel?

It takes about four hours for Adam to come around to something resembling coherency. During that time, you'd forcibly hustled him onto the couch, stripped him of that holy robe (though holey may be a more apt description by now) and tended to the phenomenal bruising that's decorating his torso. Nevermind the fucking stab wounds on his back that you'd been too slow to account for, resulting in the permanent stains on your favourite fabric cushions.

Once you'd sorted him out about as well as you could (otherwise known as fixed him up just enough that he maybe won't die on you in the next twenty-four hours), you'd then gotten to the most important part; defending yourself from him.

A containment ring around the sofa that you could activate remotely, several other spells layered into the walls against ill-intent (fine-tuned so that it only accounts for immediate bodily harm, not the thought of it as you'd normally set), and your favourite sword is now sheathed appropriately clipped to your belt instead of decorating the mantle. You spend the rest of the time waiting, sipping at the bottle of orange juice you'd bought from the store just hours ago, and occasionally glancing over at Adam to see if he's woken up yet.

As you do so, you take a moment to assess him.

There's no denying he's a sinner now; whatever white accents his wings had boasted have been stripped from him, replaced with a deep black dye. His fingertips curl into blatant claws, the edges dipped the same gold as his wings, a colour scheme that his long horns maintain, which have straightened out from the curled ones you recall during the 'extermination infomercial' that all Hellborn receive in their teen years.

On the plus side, he appears to have calmed down enough that he's slipped out of full-demon mode, the twisted exorcist mask bleeding out of existence to expose a semi-human face. There's a scar on his left cheek, a thick gold marking that brackets his cheekbone and, the more you look at it, the more you think it looks remarkably like the imprint of knuckles… hadn't your dad punched him at some point? Funny how that made enough of an impact to translate to his new form.

You turn back to the window, watching the rain batter against the glass as you take another sip of orange juice. It's cold and refreshing, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. Suddenly, you hear a groan from the couch, and you turn to see Adam stirring.