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trashsfanficgarden · 2 months ago

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As above, so below

Summary: After a long and awkward stay on Earth, Cain and Adam are back in Hell and are almost ready for the second phase of their mission.

Cain is still trying to make sense of his rekindle relationship with his father.

Adam is still grappling with his newfound freedom, away from the eyes of Heaven, but he doesn't have time to think about what being free really means. With the treaty broken, there's nothing stopping the Sins and Hellborn from returning to their old ways of hunting human souls.

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This dysfunctional father-son team is my new favorite duo and I really wanted to write a little about them, so I took the opportunity to finally get this scene out of my head. I guess this counts as a sneak peek or test for my Divine Intervention AU.

Warnings: Hell is horrible and Heaven isn't perfect. Cain is Lucifer's biological son. No sinner or fallen angel Adam, but a secret third thing. Unreliable narrator. Slight Lucifer and Lilith's bashing. Mentions of abuse and slavery.

English is not my native language, so please bear with me.

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Cain clumsily dodged the female figure's attacks. Each sword slash she delivered felt harder and faster than the last, leaving him barely time to do more than leap away from the blade.

Occasionally, he managed to block a well-aimed strike with the handle of The Spear his father had lent him. The sound of the impact echoed so loudly through the walls of the abandoned building that he felt it resonate deep into his soul. But his adversary was relentless, only as a warrior of Heaven could be.

Her upright figure and precise, flawless movements stood in stark contrast to his own tired form, with his knees bent into a low squat and shoulders slumped. He was exhausted. This wasn't even a challenge for her.

Suddenly, by a stroke of luck, one of her thrusts, launched hard enough to knock her off balance as he dodged, giving him the opportunity to strike for the first time. He drove his knee into her side, knocking her hard onto the ground. It wasn't strong enough to injure her, just enough to push her away and buy him a few precious seconds to escape.

Cain took a few quick steps back, keeping his eyes locked on her, but back to his usual bad luck, as he leaped forward, he crashed into a wooden post. He felt the old wood splinter against his back, throwing him off just enough that, when he looked up again, his opponent was already back on her feet with renewed ferocity. Her blade came down toward him, and he barely managed to throw himself to the ground. The sword grazed his shoulder, then sank deep into the post behind him.

Once again, all he could do was seize the moment to escape.

He ran toward the piles of wreckage that might offer him cover, almost dropping the Spear along the way.

But his father's Valkyries were nothing if not relentless. Why would this one be any different?

Cain wasn't even halfway there when he heard the distinctive sound of splintering wood. He looked back, dreading what he already knew.

Not only had she freed her sword, but enormous wings had erupted from her back. He saw them spread wide, majestically and ready for flight.

The wave of wind she unleashed as she rose into the air was so violent it knocked him to the ground. The Spear flew from his hands. Reaching for it was useless. All he could do was crawl toward any cover he could find.

He watched as she descend in slow motion. The sword pointed directly at his chest.

Cain instinctively shut his eyes and raised his arms to shield his face.

But when the blade touched his chest, there was no pain. The figure dissolved into a cloud of dust and mud, splashing over him, mixing with the dried filth of all his previous defeats.

"That was awful, Cain," Adam said, finally stepping from the shadows where he had witnessed the entire fight.

There was no harshness in his voice, just a flat, resigned tone. For some reason, that hurt more.

Adam stared at the destroyed post, unimpressed. With a flick of his wrist, a mound of dirt rose from of the ground, forming a large mass of dark red clay that sealed over the broken post. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep the structure from collapsing on top of them.

Not that they were supposed to stay there for long, anyway.

Adam turned back to his son, still lying on the ground, exhausted. Cain was trying to wipe the mud from his arms and spitting out what had gotten into his mouth. Whatever comment Adam had been about to make died in his throat. For a long moment, he said nothing. He ran a hand down his face slowly and let out a long, weary sigh.

He gesture for Cain to sit. Then, searched through the bag hang over his shoulder and pulled out a piece of fruit. It was a strange round thing, blood-red color and not bigger than a peach. He casually tossed it to Cain, who caught it by reflex.

Cain turned it over in his hands, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and suspicion. He waited for it to crumble to ash, but it remained intact in his grip.

He looked up at his father, doubt written clearly in his eyes.

"You can eat it," Adam said flatly.

"We still don't know what it is," Cain replied, his voice low with uncertainty.

"I saw some demons eat them. Some sinners too. No one died of diarrhea or vomited blood... so eat it."

He hadn’t sensed any corrupt aura or evil presence from it, either. Still, just to be sure, he had destroyed several of the plants from leaf to root, searching for any sign of danger. But no, everything about them felt normal. Just like any other plant on Earth.

"Is that your standard?"

"It's worked for us so far."

Cain frowned but obeyed. His fingers cautiously pressed the fruit’s skin until it split, revealing a deep purple flesh inside. It smelled sweet, but not like any modern fruits. There was something nostalgic about its scent.

"This isn't normal," Cain muttered, his gaze fixed on the fruit, forcing himself to not dwell on the memories. That never ended well.

"Nothing in Hell is normal," Adam replied.

It never was. but for some reason, something truly out of the ordinary had happened between his resurrection and return. Something that had caused the Pride Ring to transform from its typical sterile soil and poor parody of a metropolis to what could only be described as a damned green apocalypse; vines, trees, moss, fungi, and roots erupting from who-knew-where, spreading rapidly into every corner, claiming everything in their path.

Adam would’ve loved to blame it solely on the malignant nature of Hell. After all, the place was barely holding together in any coherent form, and only thanks to improvised miracles and the dried blood of his exterminations of sinners. And even that, as much as he hated to admit it, was about as good as trying to keep an old building standing with cheap duct tape.

His gaze drifted to the purple pulp of the fruit his Cain was eating. For once, he couldn't blame Hell.

"And you?" Cain suddenly asked between bites, snapping Adam out of his thoughts. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Adam shook his head and looked away.

"You know I can't. The whole being-dead thing—"

"Isn't the food of Hell the same as the food of Heaven?" Cain pressed.

Adam considered for a few seconds. He wasn’t the one who explained these things anymore. That's was Peter’s and Matthew’s job now.

"No... for some reason, it’s not. Heaven for us, is more like existing inside a thought," he said at last. "When we eat or feel something there, it's like experiencing a memory of what it was like on Earth."

He paused. It wasn't the best explanation, but it would have to do.

"Hell is something between Earth’s reality and Heaven’s memory thing. Real enough for sinners to suffer, but detached enough from mortal life to twist it. That weird in-between is why you can be here alive, breathe and eat… but you can't go to Heaven until you die.”

Cain stopped chewing. He stared at the half-eaten fruit between his hand, a little embarrassed he hadn't figured it out on his own.

"That sucks," he whispered.

Adam let out a joyless laugh.

"For mortals? yeah. It fucking sucks."

Silence fell between them, interrupted only by the occasional distant rumble of explosions from the city, a dire reminder of where they were.

Cain shuddered slightly at each blast. Though he’d spent a long time in Hell for a long time before finding his way back to Earth, he’d always had the dubious privilege of being able to stay away from the worst of it. Even then, it had never been this bad.

Adam let his gaze wander, appearing indifferent to the horrors of Hell. Maybe just a little more irritated than usual. He waited a few more minutes, long enough for Cain to finish a second piece of fruit, before finally speaking.

"What did you do wrong?" he asked in the most neutral tone he could.

Cain sighed, irritated. The constant questioning about his performance went from embarrassing to frustrating after the fourth consecutive defeat.

Just like when he was a child and failed at a hunt. His father would ask him what he’d done wrong in front of everyone, and he could do nothing but mutter some excuse, red face by shame and furious, hoping it would please his father enough to leave him alone.

He'd hated it then. Apparently, he still did.

"That I was born," he couldn't help but muttered with childish sarcasm.

Adam rolled his eyes, unimpressed at his comment.

"Fine, then tell me what you did right."

Cain didn't respond. He doubted he could have done anything right if every attempt ended with him on the ground.

Adam stare at him silently until he realized he wasn't going to continue.

"You're good at hiding," he said easily. It wasn't something he had to think much about. Cain had always been the best of all his children at stalking. Seeing that he still retained that skill, even after all those centuries, was surprisingly reassuring. "That's your greatest advantage: you move unseen and can strike without warning."

Cain nodded very slowly.

"But once you're discovered, it all falls apart," Adam continued with a steady voice. "You're not fighting seriously."

"I am," Cain replied, annoyed at his father accusation.

"No. You're running. You dodge and retreat, but you don't hit back." Adam met his gaze, his expression unrelenting. "You fight to be left alone. That's not going to help you here."

Cain looked down; his fists clenched with restrained anger.

"So, what do I do?"

"Fight to kill," Adam said bluntly. "Or i'll send you back to Earth."

Cain froze.

It wasn't the cold tone that stunned him. It was the ease of the decision. That hurt more than any shouting. He would’ve preferred anger. At least then he could believe his father wanted him there.

But he knew. He'd always known, from the first day his father found him on Earth, it had been clear he didn't really need him. He only wanted The Spear and Cain had already given it to him.

And even then, he’d managed to screw up so badly that Abel, of all people, had to come back and save his ass from the messed-up situation he'd gotten his father and himself into.

"I can do this," Cain said desperately, springing to his feet. "Even if they touch me, my curse—"

"Your curse won't help you!" Adam cut him off, raising his voice for the first time. His anger was sudded and sharp. "Not against the Sins!"

"You don't know that!"

"And neither do you!" Adam snapped back. Before Cain could reply, he added, "I won't send you into a fight I know you'll fucking lose just because you think your curse might save you!"

Silence fell again, this time heavier and painful.

Adam gritted his teeth, breathing hard. A part of him wanted to keep shouting, and oh heavens, how much he wanted to, but Cain remained silent. His expression had fallen, and he noticed the ghost of tears in his son's eyes.

"I don't care what you think this is going to prove." Adam’s voice lowered, but it was no less harsh. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

Cain lowered his head, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the tears from falling.

Adam exhaled slowly, more tired than angry. He looked away, giving Cain space to gather himself. He fought the instinct to comfort him and the stronger one just to walk away, unsure of how Cain would take any gesture from him.

In the distance, the sound of the city's suffering was slowly drowned ouy by a soft drizzle that lasted until the next morning.

Adam didn't sleep. He hadn't slept in a week. Not since Cain begged him to rest.

It wasn't new to him. Even in life, his sleep patterns had been chaotic; that's why he was usually the one who kept watch at night.

That habit stayed with him even after his death.

So, while Cain slept, Adam stayed alert and busy, looking for anything he could do to tidy the place up a bit. Only the most basic of chores. Not that he could do much anyway: his powers, though starting to return, were still weak. He wasn't about to waste energy pushing them to their limits, especially when he was already doing so by maintaining his normal appearance.

Shallow, he admitted. But he couldn’t stand it anymore. Just couldn’t.

Being locked in his Eden body for a week, so small and soft, with weak limbs that he knew could be torn off as easily as a sheet of paper was torture enough.

It was so fucking worth the extra effort if it meant being able to hear his own voice or see his reflection without feeling disgusted.

So, he did what he could with only his own hands. He moved trash and wreckage to clear the area, secured the entrances and exits, and even took the opportunity to make sure Cain actually got some rest.

After a while, he ended up at the upper level of the factory, across the hanging bridges and in front of a large window. Between him and Cain, they'd covered most of it with mud, but there were still some clear sections he could peek through.

The city of sin was in the distance. Disgusting as always, but the green suited it, he supposed.

The only place that hadn't yet been completely swallowed by nature was Lucifer's palace. But there was still time. He hoped that, between his crusade and his inevitable return to the Pride ring the damned thing will have been transformed into a greenhouse.

Maybe even a kind of fauna not covered in horns or fire would appear.

He leans against the railing, weary. The structure tilted slightly under his weight. A few things creaked. The Spear hit the platform when Adam carelessly spun it. The sound echoed with a dry, lingering note, like a bell that lasted longer than it should.

A childish habit. Like a child playing with a long stick.

Mike used to do the same thing.

The sound wasn't very loud, so it shouldn't have woken Cain. But just in case, he stopped. Instead, he stared at the weapon with something between annoyance and regret.

It was the first time he really looked at it since they recovered it.

The Spear of the Taxiarch.

It was a beautiful piece; completely golden and glowing a soft divine light. The long, sharp blade was crisscrossed with deep blue markings, like sacred veins: Michael's color.

Where the blade met the shaft, six wings fanned out like a crown. The handle was covered in finely etched spirals running all the way to the tip, also marked in blue, as if a sacred current had been channeled within.

Truly, Archangel Michael's finest work.

It was not made of mere angelic steel, but of Michael's own divine essence.

The only thing capable of destroying an immortal soul.

Adam had been there, millions of years ago, when he forged it.

It took Mike centuries to finish it, and when he did, the first person he showed it to was Adam, even before his own brothers and sisters.

He was so happy. So proud. His most important work, only for Adam to steal it.

And he didn't regret it.

He knows Mike doesn't resent him either.

Why would he cover for him if he did? Why take the blame for the disappearance of Heaven's most powerful weapon in front of Sera and the others? Why ruin his own reputation in front of all of Heaven?

Why?

Why Michael protected him through that? Why couldn´t do it before? Why leave him alone when he truly needed him?

Adam thinks of all the other times, before and after, when Michael could have spoken, been there, could have done something, and didn’t.

His fingers tighten around The Spear, feeling its power rush through his soul. He wonders if it was a gesture of love or guilt. He wonders if Mike would approve of what he's about to do.

He can wonder all he wants, but the truth is, it never mattered.

Not before. And it won't matter ever.

When Cain woke up, he didn't quite know what time it was.

The lack of a sun meant the passage of time was more a guesswork than anything exact. The rain, because apparently it rains in Hell now, only made his internal clock worse.

He stumbled out of what had once been an old supervisor’s office: a concrete shack tucked away in a hidden corner of the main floor, its walls almost completely destroyed.

Outside, the first floor stretched into a huge hall, filled with old pillars and beams wrapped in vines. All the dead, rusted machinery had been pushed to de sides to leave them more space. It was barely visible now, in the process of being consumed by ferns.

Above, corroded metal bridges crisscrossed overhead. Some barely holding together and on the verge of collapse. On one of them, which from what he could tell, had been recently repaired, stood Adam, silently watching the landscape through the, dirty tall window.

From a distance, Cain could barely make out the heavy slump of his father's shoulders as he held the Golden Spear tightly, like an anchor. Cain could imagine him frowning, his gaze almost empty, fixed on the distance, but with a hint of worry and loss he still tried to hide.

He stared far off beyond the city in ruins and chaos and beyond the ground below.

Toward where Aclima, Azura, and Seth were.

Maybe even Eve.

“Morning,” said Cain, stepping out of the shadows. His voice was so low it barely rose into the air, not even enough to echo. Still, Adam turned to greet him, as if he’d heard him loud and clear. “Morning,” he replied.

Adam looked down, and for a moment, habit almost pushed him to leap off the platform—but his feet remained steady.

He didn’t have wings anymore. And honestly, he wasn’t even mad about that; it wasn’t the first time he’d lost them. He was angry because this time it was taking longer to adapt than it should.

He resigned himself to taking the stairs, one hand firmly gripping the Spear, the other on the handrail.

“Did you sleep?” Adam asked, though he already knew the answer. He’d spent a few hours by Cain's side while he slept. Watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. Not that Cain needed to know that.

“A little,” Cain muttered, kicking at the dirt, uncomfortable under his father’s stare, and still nervous about how things had ended yesterday.

Adam stood silently in front of Cain for a few seconds, watching the wild, tangled strands of brown hair fall over his forehead, and the roots revealing the pale blond he tried so hard to hide. He felt a sudden urge to push it back, like he used to when Cain was a child.

A long time ago, when Cain was just beginning to hit adolescence, he loved having his hair fall over his face, covering his eyes. Adam would always try to tuck it behind his pointed ears, and Cain would always growl at him or roll his eyes so hard Adam swore they turned completely white for a moment.

It had been a strange and depressing experience. One moment, his little boy who used to cling to him during the day and curl up on his chest at night, suddenly couldn’t stand to be around him and the more Adam tried to hold on, the angrier Cain became.

Adam suddenly realized he had raised his arm, extending it halfway between them. Cain stared at him, his eyes wide open, following the movement of his hand.

For a fleeting moment, a look of sadness crossed Adam's face. But it immediately gave way to a tense, well-rehearsed seriousness.

“Pay attention,” Adam ordered in a firm voice, all traces of tenderness gone.

He snapped his fingers, and instinctively, Cain turned, expecting another clay exorcist figure to rise from the ground. But something else began to form.

A massive, menacing spider-like creature took shape, so large it nearly reached the ceiling. The earth beneath them wasn’t enough to fully mold its body, so Adam completed it with a shimmering golden illusion.

Cain didn’t recognize it immediately. His eyes swept across the lower body, entirely spider-like, up to a thin, humanoid torso with enormous wings on its back. Then they landed on the face: A round, wide grin filled with fangs, two enormous eyes, and several smaller ones trailing up its forehead.

That’s when it hit him.

"Mammon," Cain whispered, instinctively taking a few steps back.

Or at least, how Mammon used to be. before the Fall, back when he still roamed the Earth as a Watcher.

Cain had only seen him from afar, and only a few times. Even if Mammon had been the least cruel of the bunch, Cain had always gone out of his way to avoid him as much as the rest.

He’d tried the same in Hell, with little success.

Lucifer found him and clung to him for decades. He dragged him through every circle of Hell, parading him like a private joke. And when the novelty of Cain wore off, Lilith finally saw him for what he truly was and she discarded him, leaving him practically at the Watchers’ doorstep.

But by then, they had become twisted. Deformed by their own sins.

They’d lost all grace and beauty. Their bodies had become reflections of the horrors they once unleashed upon the world. Their remaining power, though diminished and unstable, was still dangerous enough to threaten Earth again.

Even the thought of them having another chance to try it made his heart clench with panic.

Earth was still too weak from their last attempt. He doubted it could survive a third.

"We’ll go for him first," Adam said, snapping Cain out of his trance. He blinked, only then realizing he was standing right beside his father.

Cain cleared his throat, masking the panic that had crept into his voice.

"Why Mammon?" he asked, turning his gaze back to the towering illusion.

"He’s the weakest," Adam replied, staring into the illusion’s face. The golden light flickered momentarily. He looked away slightly before continuing. "He holds complete dominion over the souls of Seth, Nefela, and their family. And you said he’s not on good terms with the others. If we start with him, the rest might not even notice—or care."

Cain said nothing, though his expression betrayed his unease.

Seth, his wife and children. The souls of their descendants down to five generations. All chained to Mammon. Dragged into Hell with their slaver.

Cain had never known them in life, but he had helped the last of their bloodline escape and go into hiding. The last pure-blood humans on antediluvian Earth

"What if it’s already too late?" Cain asked quietly.

Adam didn’t answer right away. The light forming Mammon’s illusion flickered again, and cracks began to spread through the clay.

"Then we make an example of him," Adam said, his voice deep, stripped of emotion.

"And after him?" Cain asked, trembling. His fists clenched from a mix of fear, tension, and for the first time in ages, a small spark of anticipation.

"Leviathan and Belphegor," Adam said, pronouncing the names like a sentence. "I want to take out the weak first."

“They’ll know we’re here by then.”

"They'll know I'm here." Adam turned and looked Cain in the eyes, red like an apple, a fact no one in their family had mentioned since Cain's birth. "You still have Lucifer's favor, don't you?"

Cain didn’t want to answer. Not because he didn’t know, but because he hated the answer.

"Yes. But only on paper," he finally replied, his voice reluctant. "I suppose without Lilith, it’ll be easier to return to his good grace."

If Cain saw a fleeting, wicked grin flicker across his father's face, he said nothing. At least that answered one of his doubts about the queen’s disappearance.

Adam extended the Spear to him, and Cain took it without a word. Resigned, he ran for cover, steeling himself for what was coming. Mammon began to stir with menacing slowness, preparing to leap as soon as his father gave the order.

Cain barely had time to hide when his father’s voice echoed.

"Begin."

#hazbin hotel au #divine intervention au #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel cain #hazbin hotel fanfiction #test one shot #i guess #work in progress

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