WARNING: Dark themes. Holocaust stuff; not for the faint of heart. Read at own risk.
He has no idea who his birth parents are or what they look like. (His eyes were his fathers, a light shade of cerulean that rivaled the sky, while his hair matches the dark brunette of his mother.)
He doesn't recall having any other family. (He'd had three older siblings; Alice, who managed to get married and move to America before everything went sour and never knew he existed; Lewis, who had been among the first to die because of his preference for men instead of women; and Iris, whom had been dragged off in the middle of the night by a group of four drunken soldiers. She'd never been seen again.)
He can't clearly remember the bitterly cold night a lovely blonde lady had walked past his makeshift box-crib and stopped to pick him up to ensure he didn't freeze.
His oldest memory is of the man whom he now considers his father holding him awkwardly as his future mother smiles widely at him, gently wiping away a bit of drool while trying not to laugh at her lover's obvious discomfort.
He will never know the life he could have had (his father had owned a very well-liked drug store, and there had been plenty of friendly people in his neighborhood; if he'd grown up where he was supposed to, he would have been just fine, completely oblivious to the pain of an immortal man looking to die), but he has to admit, he's incredibly thankful everything turned out the way it did.
A/N: Not as terrible as it could have been, but I just wanted to make sure no one flipped out. Abe has a really depressing back-story. :'(
~Persephone