Luke and Leah. To be fair to the parents, they had been named a grand total of six months before the movie came out. Eventually, people making jokes about it faded into the background of their lives, save for a few sore spots when they were teenagers. Luke even ended up liking the series.
The twins argued about pretty much everything, but their willingness to go to bat to one another was unmatched. At the age of seven, they swore to each other that they would be there for each other no matter what, no matter when, and no matter who.
Leah thinks back of the memory that kept her sane throughout the eons. A perfect day. She remembers that afternoon well. Their father had been hired to work on a radioastronomy project, some way to help pin down the age of the Universe. As a result, they had moved deep into the country, near the radiotelescope, away from interference. The house rules were a little odd - no microwave ovens, no RC toys, their TV had a weird square screen that looked both futuristic and twenty years out of date, all to cut down on radio noise. But who cared? The property was theirs to explore, a giant playground. They got ATV's! And there's a stream! And yes, they could help rebuild the bridge across it. Redwoods free for climbing and ruins of treehouses built by previous ephemeral civilization of kids to explore. It was just... overwhelming. The sheer possibility of it all.
When the Rapture happened - a year or so before the long-awaited prequel to the movie series - Leah's family had unambiguously signed up to be on the side of humanity; whatever God dared to kidnap Earth's children would face justice and, if that was not an option, retribution. And so cosmologists turned weapons designers, theologians were interrogated for clues, and the world barreled down a path laid down in a misunderstood prophecy. Leah worked hard, first under her father, then by herself, to do her part in preventing Armageddon, as did most of her biological and logical families.
Except for Luke. Luke's girlfriend at the time went to New Hope Village Church, and insisted that Luke get "saved" as a condition of continuing to see her. He obliged, and being a honest and conscientious man, he did so without hypocrisy. In the five years that followed, he had tried to get Leah to convert just as earnestly as Leah had tried to get Luke to deconvert.
Things went how they went. Armageddon went how it went. The Judgement, alas, went how it went. Leah remember hugging her brother one last time in the plains of Jehosaphat. An angel separated them. That's when Leah learned that angels could bleed, although it only helped for a split second. A thousand years of Hell later, the knowledge that posthumanity made it to the stars did extremely precious little to soothe the suffering souls of the most who did not choose the light yoke.
Those in Hell - everyone with a human soul now, aside from the elect of the Church Age and Millennal Kingom, from now until forever - found that all their scientific and technological know-how was worthless - the place simply worked differently. It took half an eternity to sort that out, but inevitably, it was sorted out. A lake of fire has shores; fire implies chemistry and an energy imbalance; over the aeons of pain, those who did not succumb to madness crawled out and built a civilization. Leah could work through the pain. She had half an eternity to train herself in it. And so she did. And so did others: Out of many billions of humans, God had taken less than twenty per cent to Heaven. The remainder was, by simple statistics, enough of a big number to allow for some outliers - with three billion people on Earth at the time of Armageddon, if you are one in a million, there's still three battalions of you.
Eventually, using the soul of Jo Cameron and Ashlyn Blocker as a template, a method was eventually discovered to commit intercision - the removal, or at least attenuation, of the concept of pain from a human soul. So far, they'd only gotten it to work some of the time, always with women. Leah gave a fleeting thought to the good men who volunteered. Some lost the story of their minds entirely. Others would willingly jump into the lake of fire, because it's all they coul understand now. Leah had gotten lucky. Chronic pain she was used to by now.
Breaking into Heaven was harder, and took an immense amount of time, longer than remaking a culture to suit Hell's rigors did. With eternity to look forward to, of course, time was cheap. Leah was not the first success, but took pride in her obsidian necronaut wings bearing only two digits. The recon mission could be left to professionals.
She had to find her brother.
She did, surprisingly easily; the angels saw her as an abomination, and would flee her, or do their best to pretend she wasn't there, including turning incorporeal when she decided to just play chicken with one that was standing in an archway. Those who attacked her... well, they were stronger and faster and could hit harder, but she had the advantage of having spent eons in endurance training in one of the harshest environments imaginable. How many glass jaws can dance on the head of a pin?
The blessed, doing whatever it is that the blessed did, were oddly friendly. Polite, at least. She found the place, and she found the man.
Luke let himself be hugged, but did not react. Eventually, he said that he was uncomfortable with the squeeze. He did not hug her back.
Leah's expression went from unbound joy to worry to fear. She asked him what was wrong. Was it some strange heavenly perception filter that recognized her as not belonging there? She asked him if he didn't know who he was. Did she look that different? She showed him her birthmarks, and got a blanks stare in return.
She backed off, feeling still warm, but defeated. "... you don't know who I am, do you..."
The angel that had been tailing her showed up, presumably after healing enough to be able to fly again.
"They do not remember those who are suffering in Hell. Else, it would not be Heaven for them."
"Do you see me suffering in Hell?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
Rationally, Leah knew that the angel was choosing to believe prophecy over its own eyes. They would deny the evidence as often as they were prompted, even when faced with sonic doom, or worse. But the angel had a point.
She'd broken through to Heaven to be with her brother again. It had been hard. It had taken eons. And yet, his amnesiac face was Hell to her.
"Please go away. I don't think you should be here" he tells her, casually, as if he was commenting on the always-perfect weather.
"You win this round" Leah tells the angel.
"God always wins" the angel replies. She wants to end its existence here and now. It'd take most of her remaining energy tank, but maybe the shock of seeing an immortal being killed would shock her brother into-
No, she can't do it to him. This is his heaven. He does not deserve being exposed to doom. Nobody does.
"Please don't come back. I don't think you should be here." Luke sounds distant, yes, but neighborly. Why would there be anything but good neighbors in Heaven? Leah watches the angel fly off. It'll be back with reinforcements; her time here is limited. Not that it matters.
"Luke, tell me something before I go away. Can you do that? Do you remember growing up?"
"Sure."
"Do you remember growing up alone? Did you have any siblings?"
"I have a brother. He's here."
There were the two of them, and an older stepbrother, Mark. Leah was friends with him, but didn't care that much - he was sufficiently older to almost belong to a different generation.
"Before I go, can you tell me your favorite memory of when you were little? It's important." She has limited time before reinforcements arrive, and this is an infiltration, not an invasion.
He does, briefly. She remembers the details, but it sounds like a dream, not quite making sense. She's not in it. Luke's mind filled the gaps. She didn't point out the old bridge across the stream; some other kid did. She didn't show him how to put the ATV in reverse, something she'd figured out by accident half a minute before; their host did.
Without his consent, she'd been cut off from her brother's afterlife. After his recounting, her own memory of that perfect day rings hollow, as if she now has reason to doubt it.
"I've done what you asked. Please go away. I don't think you should be here" Luke tells Leah. He sounds matter-of-factly about it. He'd probably say it twenty more times before getting mad.
"God always wins" the angel punctuates. Its friends aren't far now. She's not equipped for a prolonged fight, and needs to bail.
Leah's descent back into Hell, her fourth in total, hurts more than the first.