Chapter Text
Pain.
Horrible, searing, gut-wrenching pain that churned at his insides (or whatever was left of them anyway). No doubt a soupy mess of ichor and shattered bone. Plunged straight through his ribs again and again—hell, that irony wasn't lost on him—he felt every push of the angelic steel splitting his skin on the way in. Then out.
God, he fucking hated pain. He'd felt enough of that shit on Earth. He’d suffered longer than any of these fuck-ups ever had—in life or rotting down here. Outlived most of them by centuries.
Yet here he was, sucking in his last breaths—dying uselessly under the sickly red sky. Face in the earth, no different than any gutless worm writhing away down here.
Except he was different. He was fucking Adam. Not some shithead damned to Hell for their countless fuckups, or—
Or what? Fuck, everything felt so muddy now. Even his body was starting to feel like the soil they plucked him from. Shit—was he melting into mud or something? Was that why he felt so cold? Ashes to ashes or whatever they said.
No. He was just dying. He could barely remember what the first time was like, and now here he was. The only thing he could see was that ugly, blood-red sky. The air burned thick with brimstone and—
When did he end up on his back? Did he writhe and squirm like a pansy, cry out till his throat was raw? His heart should’ve been racing. Instead, it knocked a slow, hollow drum beneath his slack hand. He could feel the low heat of sticky ichor pooling under his fingers. The very essence of his life spilling from his veins.
There was a dull pressure, and in seconds, minutes, hours—he couldn't even tell—the sky was gone, and familiarity filled his vision. Blurred at the edges, but unmistakable.
Lute.
She was glowing. Caked in ichor just like him. Were they gonna die together? Kick the bucket in a pair. Always in pairs with him. The worst things happened in twos. Half of one big fuckin’ mess, he guessed.
Whatever. They'd die together then.
It wouldn't be so bad with her here. If she'd stop screaming. Muffled, distorted—yet still so fucking loud. Shaking, pulling at his chest, and—shit, she was strong.
She was calling him—at least he thought she was.
He definitely heard his name. She never said it often. But hearing it from her—yeah…
It felt good.
He was gonna miss that.
~
When he came to, he felt weightless, as if he wasn’t even there at all. An illusion that shattered when dozens of flared, glowing eyes snapped into focus around him—and suddenly everything was far too heavy.
“How could this happen, Adam? Eve was your responsibility. To think now we have to—”
‘I—what? Me? The dumb bitch fell for the trick herself. Had the wool pulled over her eyes by that stupid fuckin’—’
Was that it? Was that what you truly felt then? Let us go forward.
“There has to be something we can do, Seraphim!” The words left his mouth before he even realized, fueled with a fire of rebellion that even surprised himself.
Even though they were his words.
“She was tricked! That bastard snake—”
“Was one of the hierarchy.”
There was that ever-present finality. The word of the angels was law. It was what he'd strived to follow since he'd drawn his first breath. Even when he had no face to connect them to. But now—now the eyes blinded him. Surely they saw through every ounce of his body and spirit.
“You needn't worry about the details. As the first man—” The Seraphim faltered for a moment, its many eyes shuddering with trepidation.
“The responsibility falls on you, too. Even if you didn't partake in Lucifer's—” it hesitated again, weighing its next word carefully. “Deception.”
‘Deception? Deception, my ass! He deceived Eve, not me—and now I'm the one who's paying for it!’
Your mind orbits your own these days, doesn't it my child?
A shudder ran up where he thought his back was, but his body still felt foreign—like he was housed in a dream.
If only he'd fucking wake up.
“Just let me talk to her, Seraphim—please! I can make this right, I can—”
The eyes surged and blinked in a way that clearly displayed its frustration.
“No. Certain matters must be resolved before we act. Until then, you must stay here, in the Garden. Where it's safe.”
There would be no rebuttal. The Seraphim had disappeared in a flash of feathers and twitching eyes.
The Garden, which had shrunk considerably from its vastness—no doubt the Angel's doing—felt incredibly cramped now. More like a prison than paradise, and he was its only occupant.
But he wasn't so alone, was he?
He stared back at himself, slumped against a lush green tree. Branches unburdened, stripped of sustenance but still strangely beautiful in their barren state.
He must really miss it that much, huh?
You had a rebellious spirit so long ago.
The air hummed around him, so warm and yet... distant.
“You call that rebellion?” he scoffed. “Guy’s a fucking pussy.”
You did your best. The voice soothed. It takes much strength for a human to stand against an angel. Even without the Morningstar's interference, you fought back against the hands that made you.
“Yeah, for five fucking seconds, what the hell does that matter?”
You cared.
“Cared?! I wanted to save my own ass! Fuck caring, fuck Eve. I didn't deserve to take the fall for what she did!”
So it was fear then. But born of what, my child? Jealousy? Self-preservation? Did you rage because you feared for yourself—or because you feared what they would do to her?
“I—”
He couldn't remember. For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at himself, combing through every second of his life. Centuries on Earth, even more time in Heaven. So how long was he in Eden really?
This may be the last time he'd remember it so vividly.
Speak, my child.
He took a deep breath, greedily drawing in Eden's fresh air. But even now it felt heavy, thick in his lungs. No different than the stale, sulfurous air of Hell.
It was nothing but a memory, a dream, a trick.
No tricks, no lies, my child. Only the truth.
“Yeah, well, the truth fucking sucks.”
It can often be disappointing, but there is much to learn from it.
“I learned enough after all this,” he gestured broadly, at the scene before him. “You learn real quick when someone else makes the decision for you.”
You may be right, but it's what happens after that which shapes you.
“Yeah, well, without me there'd be nothing to shape, or whatever.” He fluttered his hands in growing frustration. Who was she to say any of this? She was only the middleman. Some grand proxy for the big man in the sky. He was the one he should be talking to.
“I did more than enough for the world! I fucking made it! Without me, it would be a big ball of sticks and rocks and—”
Humanity is a beautiful thing. It has been shaped over so many years, enriched by all who inhabit it. Every soul plays its part.
“Well, every soul wouldn't exist if I didn't put them there!”
Each has its own story to tell. They weave a destiny only they can fulfill. Just as you did, and even now…
“For fucks sake, just cut the riddles already! There has to be something you can do to get me out of here, I—”
You came down here for a reason. A righteous goal, a just one? Do you know the answer?
“It is just! It’s fucking Hell! The label’s pretty goddamn clear! Every screw up, every shithead, every—”
Is that why you came, to correct their mistakes?
“To teach them a lesson!”
Or was it vengeance against the Morningstar?
He felt his teeth clamp around his tongue as his brain worked into overdrive. Wading as quickly as he could through muddy recollections. Eternity seemed to stretch on forever, and he’d always been shit at sorting his own thoughts.
“No.”
To punish your lesser children?
“No, nothing that serious, I—”
A human soul is so precious, my child. Each one holds the power to shape so much. Just as you did, and continued to do in your time after.
“I did it because I had to.”
As you always have, but you've had so many choices. More than any soul I've recorded. Those choices have woven a complicated story. If you truly believe your actions were righteous… then you have nothing to fear.
“Wait, what? The fuck does that mean?”
For just a moment, he sees her. Warm, golden fingers brushed along his face. All at once, he's flooded with an enveloping warmth. Radiating all the way down, shrouding him in a dense calm that quiets every worry in his head.
But only for an instant.
You were our first child… It hurts to lose you. But you've lost your way… There is nothing else I can do for you.
All at once, the warmth vanished, replaced by a vast, aching absence.
Adam scrambled against the air, clawed at nothing until his fingers dug into the evergreen grass. Bountiful and soft—as vivid as it was intangible. It dulled and withered under him, until he tore at battered soil—dry, cracked earth sickly red in color. His nails bled, breaking through his gloves as they bit into it.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It's in your hands now.
“Wait, what?” His voice tore from his throat. “No, no, no—you told me I earned this! You were there when—”
When you arrive, you will write a new story. Only you can decide how it unfolds.
He remembered the gentle smile she'd given him so long ago. Welcoming him back to eternal paradise—her touch was so warm, unlike the cold dismissal of the Seraphim. She'd understood him, she'd seen his life—recorded every second of it.
He wondered how she looked now, as she chucked him into the abyss.
The air grew thicker, hotter, as the red sky consumed the deep blue of Eden's horizon. Wretched, disgusting air flooded his lungs, forcing him to almost gag as he sucked it in.
“No—no no no! Listen to me! This is a mistake! You're the Speaker of fucking God! Use your fucking voice—do something! Make the old man take me back! I'd rather be dead than live down here!”
She said nothing more. He felt the warmth of her hands leave him—as an encroaching cold consumed his body.
Then all at once, the heat returned. It radiated through every bone in his body. Searing him from the inside out. It was the most painful thing he'd felt since—
Eve.
He thought he saw her for a moment, against the red-hot flames that licked at every inch of his body. She smiled with the same quiet warmth she’d once given him in Eden. Slowly but surely, it melted away against the pain, twisting into a vile silhouette amongst the flickering hellfire that had all but consumed his vision.
Well. That sealed the fucking deal.
Eternal—fucking—damnation.
He was going to boil in the pot with the rest of the screw-ups.
The pain rose to a fever pitch; his body felt intangible now, as if he and the flames had become one. It rose and rose, until—
Nothing.
When he came to, there was no more Lute, no more Hotel. Just a cramped, suffocating dark that stank of rot and sweat. He almost gagged, his arms flailed against the walls of his prison, knocking aside heaps of something damp and soft. A hollow thunk rang out, piercing his ears from every angle. Wait. He took a deep breath (big mistake). The rot filled his nose, but it was foul enough to snap him out of fight or flight mode. His hands shot up, feeling the cold metal that had him closed in, and pushed up with all his strength.
It gave way, and a sliver of crimson air seeped in. Regrettably, fresh in comparison to the filth he'd been swimming in.
A fucking dumpster. Of course. Maybe Vaggie did it. A bit of good ol’ fashioned revenge, huh? Yeah, well, he'd get her back for that tenfold, her and Lilith’s brat. This time, Daddy wouldn’t be there to save them.
God, his body ached. Even if he did manage to crawl back to that shithole motel, it wouldn't do him any good now. The pain was back in spades, and that was the last thing he needed right now. No, he needed to get shit together and find—
Lute.
The memory of her blood-soaked screaming face hit him clear as day.
Was she? No. No, she wasn't. Even battered half to death, the bitch had him in a vice grip.
No, she was fine. Maybe back in Heaven even—without him.
They probably thought he was dead. Shitty, but not a big deal. He'd make it to the embassy and let them know. After that, it'd be smooth sailing. Fly back, whip the girls back into shape, and come back for round two.
Yeah. What a great fucking plan. Still got it.
He heaved his way out of the cramped alleyway, and all at once it hit him like a truck.
Cars whizzed past—a cacophony of screaming, cursing hit him all at once. Useless white noise in the heat of battle, but now it felt like a fucking symphony. The buildings, riddled with signs advertising various acts of debauchery, stretched high into the red sky.
So much fucking red.
The embassy had to be close though; he just needed to fly up and get a better view. With one powerful beat of his wings, he soared high above the noise, perching on a nearby billboard.
His eyes swept over the skyline, searching for the glow of the halo-peaked spire.
Nothing. His vision felt all foggy. He wiped at the screen of his helmet, hoping to clear the haze—but whatever grime he’d marinated in back there was hard stuck. Fine, whatever, no one could see him anyway.
He rested his hands on the sides of it and yanked up.
It didn't budge.
Weird. Must be stuck.
He tried again. Nothing.
Okay, what the hell? Did the heat melt it to his face or something?
Whatever.
He’d deal with it when he got there. He'd leap a few buildings, take to the sky, and find it in no time.
Home sweet home was only a few agonizing minutes away.
He spread his wings wide and kicked off. The air caught them at a bad angle, but he recovered quickly enough. Small hiccup, probably from the pain. It was still radiating through his whole body, but he'd healed at least. No more stab wounds.
Whatever else he was dealing with—
They’d fix that when he made it back.
He gained altitude, clearing the rooftops easily now.
But the higher he climbed—
The heavier his wings felt.