Chapter Text
“So… who’s up for pancakes?”
The words hung awkwardly in the air, followed by a nervous chuckle.
Lucifer swept his gaze over the room, but it was distant, unfocused—like he was looking through everyone rather than at them. Then, for just a second, his eyes cleared as they landed on Charlie, checking, confirming that she was unharmed. Everything had happened too fast. He hadn’t expected it to end like this. With a slow, sharp exhale, Morningstar turned his attention to the first man.
Adam’s death had never been part of his plan. Not after everything that tied them together, all the way back to Eden. Maybe, deep down, Lucifer had wanted to shake him, knock some sense into that thick skull, beat the stupidity out of him if necessary—but never kill him.
“Dad, I don’t think… now’s the time.” Charlie murmured, brushing back a bloodstained strand of hair. Her eyes, like everyone else’s, remained locked on Adam’s body. “We should probably figure out what to do with… him. With his body.”
She shifted uncomfortably. Vaggie, standing beside her, rested a hand on her back and ran soothing circles between her shoulders.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s over.”
“Then why does it feel so wrong?” Charlie whispered.
They had won, hadn’t they? Her father had stepped in, saved them. No one else had to die. There had been no need for this. Even for someone like Adam. Even knowing what he would’ve done if given the chance. And yet, it still felt wrong. He was stabbed in the back. Her moral compass spun wildly between “He was going to kill us all” and “Murder is murder, even if it’s Adam.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Niffty piped up, her usual manic grin absent, replaced with a puzzled frown. “You said, See an angel, stab an angel. He was an angel.”
Charlie felt sick. A stupid, meaningless death over a throwaway comment.
“No, Niffty, you did the right thing,” Vaggie said firmly. She could feel how close Charlie was to breaking. Then, more for Charlie's sake than Niffty’s, she added. “That bastard had it coming. I’m sure he wouldn’t have stopped. So really, this ended exactly the way it should have for a piece of shit like him.”
Angel Dust was the first to break the uneasy silence that followed. He strolled over, hands in his pockets, glancing down at Adam’s lifeless body with a raised brow.
“Damn. That’s rough, buddy.” He gave a low whistle. “But hey, on the bright side, at least we don’t gotta listen to him screaming about how big his dick is anymore.”
Cherry Bomb sauntered up beside him, popping a bubblegum bubble.
“Seriously. Guy had such a stick up his ass, it’s kinda poetic that he ended up getting stabbed.”
She nudged Adam’s arm lightly with her foot, like she was checking if he’d twitch. When he didn’t, she gave a shrug.
“Honestly? Feels kinda anticlimactic. Like, bam, all that buildup, and now he’s just dead. No final monologue? No dramatic last words? Lame.”
“Oh, he had his final monologue, sis, and it was rather shitty one.”
Husk lit his cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he side-eyed the scene.
“Tch. If ya ask me, it’s about time someone put that jackass in the dirt. I ain't losin’ any sleep over it.”
Charlie’s stomach twisted.
“I just…” She hesitated, her voice small. “I don’t know if this was the right way.”
Angel Dust gave her a look, tilting his head.
“Doll, c’mon. If it wasn’t him, it would’ve been us. You get that, right?”
“And we still don’t know where the fuck is Alastor,” Husk added and then muttered under his breath so no one could hear him. “Hope Adam kicked his ass.”
“I know, I just…”
Charlie’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. She knew Angel was right. She knew Vaggie was right. But knowing didn’t make the gnawing unease go away.
Cherry rolled her eyes, nudging Angel with her elbow.
“Ugh, give it a rest, Ange. You know how she gets. Let her have her crisis.”
Angel Dust held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Hey, I ain't judgin’! Just sayin’—if it makes ya feel better, we can hold a lil’ funeral for him. I’ll even say a few words. ‘Here lies Adam, self-righteous prick, may he continue yellin’ in Hell’s group chat.’”
“Angel!” Charlie shot him a scandalized look.
“What?! He’d be laughin’ if it were any of us!”
“And he did laugh when it was Sir Pentious!” Cherry Bomb pointed out with pure disgust and hatred.
Husk let out a deep sigh, shaking his head.
“They’ve got a point, princess.”
Charlie sighed, rubbing her temples. She wasn’t sure what was worse—Adam dying like this or the way they were all talking about it like it was just another Tuesday.
Charlie shifted her gaze to her father. In the brief moment she'd been distracted, Lucifer had already made his way to Adam’s body and crouched down before him. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. For all his smug confidence, the sight before him gnawed at something deep inside. His fingers hovered over Adam’s messy hair, hesitating.
"Uh, Dad?" Charlie’s voice was careful, uncertain. Something about his demeanor unsettled her.
Lucifer didn’t answer immediately. His fingers finally settled on Adam’s head, smoothing down the unruly chestnut strands with an uncharacteristically gentle touch. And then—
A sudden burst of light engulfed the body.
Lucifer jerked back violently, scrambling toward Charlie in a rare moment of unguarded reaction. His wings flared slightly, an automatic instinct to shield her if needed. The light was blinding, forcing everyone to squint as an overwhelming radiance flooded the room. A tense silence stretched, anticipation thick in the air.
Then, as the light dimmed—
Where Adam’s body had once lain, now sat a much smaller figure.
The first human was still there, but he was... changed. He looked no older than five or six, his small frame curled up on the floor. His wild chestnut hair remained, but now two tiny horns peeked through the strands. His wings, once golden and shiny, had turned as dark as ink, the feathers appearing almost drenched in shadow. His skin had lost its human-like colour, taking on a mortal pallor.
His now fluffy animal-like ears twitched.
A flick, then another, like an irritated cat. He shook his head, disoriented, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Everyone stood frozen, struggling to process what they were seeing.
And then—
“Fucking son of a bitch—what the fuck just happened?! You goddamn, cocksucking, backstabbing, gutless fucks! I swear to fuck, when l get my hands on—What the actual shit did you bastards do to me?! Fuck! Fuck!!”
The string of curses came out in a furious, rapid-fire snarl, his small chest heaving with each breath. His tiny fists clenched against the ground, nails digging into the dirt as he let out an almost feral growl.
He tried to push himself up—only to fumble and collapse back down, his new, smaller limbs not quite cooperating. That only pissed him off more.
"What the fuck is this shit?! Why am I small?! Who did this?! I swear to fucking god—" He froze mid-rant, blinking as his own voice finally registered. Higher-pitched. Smaller.
His expression twisted into something beyond rage—pure, undiluted horror, but it didn’t spare the audience from another flow of curses "I swear to fucking God, I'm gonna get to you and make you choke on your own dicks!"
Adam pushed himself up on trembling legs, wobbling as he attempted to take a few unsteady steps toward the group. Instinctively, they all recoiled, as if they'd just seen a ghost.
And then—
His arms flailed wildly as he lost balance, and with all the grace of a newborn fawn, he toppled face-first onto the ground.
"...Just as soon as I figure out how to fucking walk on these goddamn hooves."
He groaned, pushing himself up slightly, glaring at the nearest person who happened to be Lucifer. "Seriously, how the fuck do you freaks walk on these things?!"
Lucifer snapped out of his daze first. He blinked a few times, then cautiously stepped toward Adam, as if approaching a skittish animal. Adam, however, glared at him like a crocodile lurking just beneath the water, coiled and ready to strike.
But Lucifer was faster. In a flash, he seized Adam by the ankle and hoisted him into the air. The sudden motion sent the tiny exorcist into a fit of furious shrieking and cursing, kicking wildly as he dangled upside down.
"Hmm," Lucifer mused, tapping his free hand against the small cloven hoof. "They really are hooves."
"No shit, dumbass! What, you fucking blind? What the hell else would they be—flippers?!"
Lucifer tilted his head, inspecting the wriggling child with mild curiosity. “And you even have a tail.” He rotated Adam slightly, gripping the fluffy appendage between his fingers and giving it a light tug.
Adam let out a strangled yelp.
“Hey! Hands the fuck off, you perverted son of a bitch!”
Lucifer turned around and looked at everyone with the expression of a bewildered father who had just pulled an angry raccoon out of a dumpster in his backyard and had no idea what to do with it.
"Charlie, take that back right fucking now," Angel Dust finally spoke up recovering from shock. "THIS—this is what's actually doesn’t feel right."
The golden sands of Heaven’s beach stretched endlessly, the waves rolling in with perfect, rhythmic precision, as if even the ocean obeyed divine order. The sun was warm but never scorching, the breeze gentle yet never chaotic. It was paradise—unchanging, eternal.
Lilith lay on a pristine white lounge chair, dressed elegantly in a wide-brimmed hat, dark sunglasses, and a modest one-piece swimsuit. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder as she sipped from a tall glass, its contents a bright, summery orange. She looked at peace, detached from everything beyond this artificial tranquility.
Then came the crunch of sand under boots.
Lute approached with purpose, her single arm swinging naturally at her side, the other a painful absence she no longer acknowledged. Her white hair, sharp and uneven from her asymmetric cut, caught the light like a blade. Pale yellow eyes locked onto Lilith, burning with barely contained fury.
“Adam is dead.”
Lilith didn’t react. Didn’t even twitch.
Lute’s black lips curled in irritation. “Your deal is done, and I’m in charge now.”
At that, Lilith slowly lowered her sunglasses just enough to peer at her visitor. The look she gave was unreadable, unimpressed. Lute clenched her jaw and pressed on.
“Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven,” she said coldly. “And if you want to stay here, you’re going down there and stopping that bitch. Do you understand me, Lilith?”
For a moment, there was silence—just the waves, the wind, the distant call of birds.
Then Lilith smiled. Not a warm smile, nor a kind one. Just the ghost of amusement, playing at the corners of her lips.
“Oh, darling,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You must be new to giving orders.”
Lilith let out a soft, amused hum and tilted her head, adjusting her sunglasses as she regarded Lute with the barest hint of amusement.
“You sound completely unconvincing,” she mused, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
She waved a lazy hand in Lute’s direction. “Go away. You’re blocking my sun. I don’t need uneven tanning lines.”
Lute’s eye twitched. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Completely,” Lilith said, sipping her drink. “Run along now, little soldier.”
Lute took a sharp step forward, her boots kicking up sand. “This is your responsibility!” she snapped. “It’s your daughter down there—your flesh and blood—”
Lilith let out a dry chuckle, lowering her sunglasses just enough to look at Lute properly. “Oh, sweetheart, I had a terrible role model for a mother. So it’s really no surprise that I don’t give a fuck.” She paused, tapping her lips in mock thought. “Although, no… I don’t give a fuck because Charlie isn’t my daughter.”
Lute froze, her expression shifting from frustration to shock. “What?”
Lilith smirked. “I’m cursed, darling. No children for me, not since I left Adam. Poor, tragic Lilith, barren and forgotten.” She gave an exaggerated pout. “So, Charlie? Not my problem. And she certainly won’t listen to some random woman who isn’t her mother. Especially not when her little dream is finally working judging by your words.”
Lute’s shock hardened into fury.
Something in her snapped.
This useless, self-indulgent whore had wasted her time, her patience—had wasted Heaven’s time. And the worst part? No one else knew the truth that she made a deal with Adam. Not even Sera.
Which meant no one would miss her.
A blade appeared in Lute’s remaining hand, materializing as if from nothing. The light gleamed off its edge, sharp enough to cut through divinity itself.
“Then you’re worthless to me.”
The blade plunged forward.
Lilith gasped, not in pain, but in mild surprise as Lute drove the weapon through her chest. Her fingers twitched, the drink slipping from her grasp, the glass shattering in the sand. Lute twisted the blade, savoring the way Lilith’s deep wine-red immortal blood poured down her torso, mixing with spilled drink.
Finally.
A stain worthy of her uniform.
Lute wiped the blade clean against the pristine fabric of her uniform, watching with grim satisfaction as the first streaks of crimson finally tainted the gold. A perfect, final stain. Lilith twitched, her body sagging as blood trickled from the wound.
Lute turned, ready to leave this pathetic waste behind—
Then the air crackled.
The very light around them seemed to bend, warping in a way that made Lute’s gut twist with unease. The sand beneath Lilith’s body shimmered, a strange glow radiating outward like ripples in water. Lute instinctively took a step back, gripping her sword as golden light surged, blinding and unnatural.
Lilith’s form twisted.
Her long limbs shrank, her silhouette collapsing inward as if the divine itself was rewriting her very existence. Her sharp, mature features softened—her body curling in on itself like a child sleeping in the womb.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the light vanished.
Lute stood still, her grip tightening around her blade.
Where Lilith had once been now lay a small girl.
Her golden hair, impossibly long, spilled around her in soft waves, glowing under the light of her halo like silk. A simple white dress draped over her tiny frame, its hem barely brushing the sand. Behind her, delicate wings stretched—soft and downy, their color a pale, luminous violet, matching the wide, dazed eyes that blinked up at Lute in confusion.
Lute’s breath hitched. The lieutenant and small girl looked at each other and then exclaimed almost simultaneously.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”