To Marceline's best knowledge, kids were all snotnosed brats.

All they did was cry and moan, and refuse to eat their red when they were clearly hungry, and even on their 'good days', they would do nothing but be a drain on resources.

Then again, this came from her father - the same guy who thought that leaving his kid in a barren, post-war hellscape was somehow 'conducive to character building', so he wasn't necessarily a reliable source.

And, like. Literal demon. So.

Suffice it to say, she didn't have the same deep-seated beliefs regarding children as her father did.

It seemed more important now than ever before, as she was faced with a child. One small, whimpering child in the ruins of a perfectly good cabin town in the dead of night. Or, it had been perfectly good, but the 'ruins' part of that was much more relevant - everything was singed, if not outright burnt to a crisp, and the stench of rot that soaked the ground made her want to freaking vomit.

She sighed despondently as she surveyed it once more, hoping that another human would pop up from the smoldering wreckage - and maybe throw in a 'surprise, fooled you!' for effect.

Nope.

It was just her and the kid now.

"Hey," she said softly, kneeling down. "Hey."

The kid stared at her from the darkness, his watery eyes wide and afraid.

Her father used to say that the fear made him feel alive. Made him feel happier, because 'they' were scared of him.

Just another difference between them, Marceline supposed.

"I'm Marceline," she said softly. She extended her hand into the darkness. "Let's get out of here."

"Vampy?" the kid asked tearily, leaning back from her. It took a moment to process, but when it did, she felt slightly sick.

"Yeah." She smiled as genuinely as she could. "But I'm a nice vampy."

He seemed to ponder her words for a few moments, unsure as to what he should do. To her credit, in his mind, she hadn't bitten him, or even made a mean face - she was just reaching out.

"Okey," he replied shortly, reaching forward and grabbing her hand.

Things didn't get easier after that.

The kid was pretty averse to conversation. Mostly, she'd just get one-word snippets out of him before he'd clam up for about a week, and eventually start talking again after some random amount of time had passed.

She couldn't blame him. He'd been through a lot - but hopefully, he'd forget most of it. Some day.

She did manage to wrench out some key details on who he was. His name was 'Finn', his mom and dad were 'in the ocean', and he was somewhere around 'tiven' years old, whatever that was.

The hardest part, though, wasn't dealing with his hunger, thirst, or even his need for comforting. Food wasn't insanely scarce now that the world had (mostly) pieced itself back together - purely in a figurative sense - and water wasn't hard to come by, either. While she didn't consider herself very cuddly, Finn certainly seemed to think so, often dozing off in her arms while she read him bedtime stories.

It was actually kinda nice. It was like...a vicarious experience. Giving him love and affection after years of not really having anyone to direct it towards.

But getting back on track - the hardest part wasn't the hunger, or the thirst, or the need for affection.

It was dealing with his freaking sleep schedule.

She should have seen it coming; she blamed herself, really. Being nocturnal for so many years meant that she'd have to adjust her internal clock to living on the day side to take care of him.

But it was better than living alone.

This was a normal day for Marceline Abadeer.

At about seven or eight o'clock in the morning, Finn's patience would finally run out and he would mercilessly jump on her bed, despite the firm 'no jumping on beds' rule that she'd put in place - as much of a downer as it made her feel like, she really didn't want to have a practical exam on sutures. After that, she'd drag herself out of bed until she managed to get in the air, after which she would try to make some eggs, to varying degrees of success - Finn had taken to calling them 'hazy eggs'.

She was content to suck the red out of apples 'n whatever else she could rummage out of the trees, and Finn seemed pretty okay with colorless foods, so it was a win-win.

At about noon every couple of weeks, she spent anywhere from a couple minutes to an hour arguing with an petulant princess about the ethics of 'scholarly research' on the kid while he took a nap, and occasionally resorted to throwing as many apples as she could find at her until she finally gave up and left.

A few hours after that, she grabbed the kid and they went cave searching. He had a real knack for adventure - not so much in that he was good at it, but more that he really, really liked doing it.

At the end of the day, Marceline would carry Finn home to the little shack in the cave. They'd have dinner, she would tuck him in, and sleep would take them both within the hour.

Having come to expect an abrupt wake-up call in the morning, Marceline savored the day when she found no such disturbance. She slept peacefully, briefly, snuggling into her pillow. Then she bolted upright, taking in the empty, Finn-less room.

She shook her head, laying back down. He was probably asleep, right? Right. He was just sleeping in today.

A few seconds later, the covers hit the wall and she bolted into the hallway.

As a creature of the night, she made virtually no sound as she dashed to Finn's door, even as it practically flew open, revealing an empty bed and an open window.

"Shit!"

She flew headlong through into the cold morning air that permeated the cave.

"Finn! Finn!"

She flew out of the cave and winced as the morning sun singed her skin, but bore the pain just long enough to call out again.

"Finn, where are you!?"

She dropped into the shadow of a tree in front of the cave and looked around - the ground was wet and muddy. She could see the tracks in the mud, leading away from the cave - but the ended several steps into the grassy fields that surrounded her home.

Resisting the urge to break something, she flew back to the house and grabbed an umbrella. Sun protection in hand, she made a beeline for the Candy Kingdom.